A/N: Thanks again to those who left reviews! Not much to say about this chapter, although it does have a quite a bit of dialogue. :D Hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Final Fantasy XII. However, I do own Valeia!

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::Suspicions::

Knock. Knock.

Balthier stood with Fran on the doorstep of a small apartment in the center of Archades. It wasn't a very fancy building, and certainly did not suggest that one of Draklor's former top scientists lived within. It just went to show how little some scientists were home. The hallway that they were in smelled musty and stale, causing Balthier to crinkle his nose in disgust. He didn't remember the apartment building being so ragged looking. It had been nearly a decade since he had last been there, after all.

"Just a minute!" Valeia's voice was faint and Balthier could barely hear it over the bell tower ringing nearby, screaming to the world that it was one o'clock.

"We must inquire about the crimes," Fran said suddenly. "Perhaps she knows a little about them."

Balthier nodded, now beginning to regret agreeing to aid Larsa the night before. It hadn't even been a full day since they were in the city and he was already growing rather annoyed. "Hopefully she knows more than a little and we can get this over with."

A moment later, the door opened, revealing a casually-dressed Valeia who clearly hadn't bothered taking down her bun from last night, leaving her hair to form into a messy half-bun. "Hi," she greeted them, moving out of the way so the two could step inside the two-room apartment.

Inside it looked like she had made an attempt to clean up, but had clearly failed. Dust gathered on almost every surface except for the large table covered in papers stacked into piles. In fact, it seemed as if the piles of papers were the only organized things in the home. Dishes were piled in the sink, some covered with a rag that looked like it was supposed to disguise the mess. There was a beat-up couch that sat by one of the two windows in the room, accompanied by two mismatched armchairs that appeared old, to say the least. A shirt was even hanging from the edge of a counter, which Valeia quickly noticed and snatched, throwing it into the bedroom before motioning her guests to the sitting area.

"I'm sorry if it's…" she trailed off, biting her lower lip in thought.

"Messy?" Balthier finished for her.

Valeia let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah…Oh!" She stuck her hand out towards Fran. "I'm sorry. I forgot that we haven't met. I'm Valeia. If I'm not mistaken your name is…Fran?"

"Yes," Fran responded, shaking the woman's hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"And you as well," Valeia grinned. Looking back over to Balthier, she folded her hands in her lap. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

Balthier glanced over at Fran, who gave him a nod, before saying, "Have you heard anything about the recent crimes? The hovercrafts stolen from Draklor, the six missing merchants, and the fires in Old Archades?"

Valeia's brow quickly creased in concern. "Fires? What caught on fire?"

"From what we were told, several abandoned buildings. As far as we know, there weren't any deaths."

"Abandoned buildings? As in, plural? Ffamran, you know how many people live in abandoned buildings down there! Some are packed with the homeless! It's impossible that there hasn't been a death because of it. Impossible. Typical government bullshit…"

"Calm down, Val. I don't even know how many buildings were burned down, nor do I know where in Old Archades they were. For all we know, they could have been truly abandoned." Balthier turned to Fran to give her a brief explanation, "Valeia grew up in the slums and gets a bit testy when it comes to the government's treatment of the people there."

"As I should," Valeia added.

Fran nodded. "I see."

"Now," Balthier continued, "the crimes?"

The woman sighed, her gaze wandering out the window as she spoke. "Right. I have heard about those other two. But I don't know a thing about them…Why do you ask?"

Balthier shrugged dismissively. "Oh, just curious. They seem a bit out of the ordinary for Archades, don't you think?"

"Many things are out of the ordinary these days." Valeia shifted her weight on the chair before continuing, "With the damage that the war had on the economy, people are becoming more desperate for money. Even I've noticed it. The hovercrafts are a strange thing to steal, but they are worth a nice sum. And the merchants were probably just kidnapped by a group of hungry people desperate for a meal or whatever they were carrying. Or they could have just been attacked by a herd of courel. It does happen, y'know. I don't really think it's worth worrying about. Once the country's financial situation starts improving, it'll all stop."

Balthier nodded. "You're probably right. However, I've noticed many people are becoming unsettled by them."

Valeia shrugged and leaned back against the armchair. There was a moment of silence before Fran decided to speak up.

"I understand you were a scientist?" she asked.

"Yes; still am, actually." Valeia motioned towards the piles of papers. "That's all my work over there. I develop airships and fuel, but that's really it."

Fran leaned forward slightly, faking interest. "So you work at Draklor?"

"No, no! I used to, but I haven't been there in…what? Three, four years?" Valeia laughed. "That place is a hellhole, as I was telling Ffamran last night. The equipment and resources available to you as a scientist are amazing, but the people and what they research…well, you had a first-hand experience of the war."

Balthier jumped in, "How many people were involved with that?"

She thought for a moment before answering, "It had to be hundreds. You should've seen the stock of nethicite we had at one point. But the second they asked me to join in, I left."

"So you never came in contact with the nethicite?"

"Oh, I did. Several times. Cid encouraged me to use it in new ship models. I know why everyone was so amazed and transfixed by it. The power that it had…only the Gods know what it could have done if used properly! Even I stayed up late at night, wondering if I should use it. For a scientist, it was the greatest thing in the world. But they abused it. Their concern was weaponry, not new forms of energy. So I stayed away."

"I see—" Balthier stopped, suddenly coughing several times into his fist, only pausing to inhale a moment before continuing. His dry hacks sounded similar to an animal's barking, causing his host to jump in alarm. "Could I—" he coughed, "get some water?"

"Of course!" Valeia stood up and raced over to the small store of food in the kitchen area of her apartment. "Um…I'm all out. I'll go get some from a neighbor. Be right back!" She hurried out the door. Once it had been firmly closed, Balthier got up.

"How was that?" he said to Fran with a proud smirk.

"You are quite the actor," his partner responded. "What do you want to look at?"

Balthier strolled over to the piles of papers and placed a hand on top of one stack. "These." He began flipping through the various documents, Fran quickly joining him. They spent a little more than a minute scanning through them before Balthier found something that piqued his interest. Removing it from the stack, all he could read was Dr. Cid's sloppy signature at the bottom of what he assumed to be a letter before the door opened and Valeia rushed in the room.

"I've got the—" She cut herself off, seeing her guests hovering over her papers, Balthier's cough appearing to have vanished. "What're you doing…?"

Balthier turned around after sneaking the letter into his pocket. "Just looking at some of your blueprints. They're impressive, as always."

Valeia frowned and set the mug of water in her hand down on the counter. He grimaced as he saw a small cloud of dust rise upon impact. "You could've just asked."

"Well I didn't want to risk you saying no."

Fran held up one of the sketches that she had found of a large airship in an attempt to divert the attention from the fact that they had lied to her. It looked strangely familiar to Balthier for some reason. "This is the main flagship of the fleet that replaced the one Ghis destroyed, is it not?"

Valeia walked towards the Viera, squinting in an attempt to remember the model. "Um…yes," she answered after a second of thinking. "Yes, it is. It was my last project at Draklor before I quit. I believe it was later destroyed."

Fran placed a hand on the table, taking a look at the drawing again, analyzing it. "Forgive me if I am wrong but…I vaguely recall the ship using nethicite to destroy some of the Resistance's fleet. Ah, there's the chamber for it here." She held it back out towards the others as proof. Balthier just smirked as Valeia froze.

She opened her mouth to say something then closed it again. She had just told them that she had stayed away from the nethicite because of its improper use. Clearly, she had aided in developing a form of nethicite-driven weaponry as well. Balthier raised his eyebrows, his expression calmly demanding an explanation from her.

"Well…" she began, "maybe I was using nethicite a bit. But how could I not when Cid glorified it the way he did? I swear, when I realized how much devastation it caused, I quit. I just…felt guilty about having created something like that so I lied. I'm sorry, I really am!"

Balthier felt like something wasn't right about her explanation. Still, he was beginning to get anxious about reading the letter in his pocket. "Apology accepted. Now don't take this the wrong way, but we really must be going."

Valeia's face fell even more. "So soon?" she said, a bit of disappointment seeping into her voice.

"Yes, we've made arrangements to meet with the emperor. Unfortunately, the only time he had free was at two," Balthier said.

"I am sure our paths will cross again," Fran interjected. "We will be in town for a while longer. It was nice meeting you."

Valeia forced a smile. "And you as well, Fran. Oh, and if your ship needs any repairs or upgrades, just ask. It's the least I could do."

Balthier made his way towards the door. "Thank you. I'm sure the Strahl's lacking something. I'll take you up for that sometime."

She nodded. "Well, it was nice seeing you again…again. Goodbye."

Fran and Balthier said their goodbyes and left, both relishing the taste of fresh air once they got back on the street. As they walked down the road, Balthier's hand hovered over his pocket. His fingers were itching to snatch it out and read it, but he couldn't there. No, there was too great a chance of someone reading it over his shoulder. He shook his head at his thoughts. It probably wasn't even an important letter. He was just building this up in his head. Still, there was a slim possibility that it could answer some of his questions…

Fran suddenly stopped walking. Balthier barely noticed and kept on going a few more paces before realizing her absence. Turning around, he shot her a quizzical look.

"Should we read it here?" The Viera gestured towards the building they were standing in front of, which Balthier realized was a bar, one of their preferred places for discussions. There were no waiters and usually more than half of the customers were drunk, creating enough noise for the sober people to be distracted by anyone else's conversation. To be honest, Balthier was glad that Fran saw his eagerness. To wait until they returned to their room at the palace would have been absolute torture.

"Yes, I could do with some liquid relaxation," he said, and the two entered the bar. They picked out a table in the back of the room that was against a wall and was surrounded by only other empty tables. After taking their seats, Balthier didn't wait a second to pull out the letter.

The first thing he noticed was the fact that nearly the entire letter had been scratched out with black ink to the point where only the first few sentences were legible. It didn't seem to be out of frustration, just boredom, as Balthier spotted a few stick figures behind the random lines. It didn't take long for him to spot the date, one of the few things not crossed out, and his brow creased in thought.

"Fran…do you have any idea what the date was when we reached the top of the Pharos?"

Fran gently took the letter from him and looked at the date as well. "Not the exact day, but it was certainly before then. This was written perhaps two or three weeks afterwards."

"Strange…" Balthier muttered, taking the letter back. After staring at the date for a second more to make sure that the year was right, he began to read the few sentences still legible aloud:

"'Dear Valeia, I apologize for not contacting you sooner. Hopefully everyone has continued to work on without me. It is a shame that...'I can't read anything past that." He inwardly sighed and threw the paper down on the table. He had been right—the note hadn't told them anything. Then again, the date was rather peculiar. Could Cid be…? No, it was impossible. He had seen his father die with his own two eyes, had heard his last words. The letter had to have been pre-written, or even someone trying to trick Valeia.

"The date bothers me," Fran commented.

"Me too. We'll have to look out for anything suspicious." Balthier folded up the letter and slipped it back into his pocket, even though it was nearly worthless. He figured that he might as well keep it around, just in case that date proved to be useful. "So, what did you think of my old friend?"

"She was kind. I do not trust her, though."

"I wasn't expecting you to. I never fully have. She was born and raised in Old Archades, so you never know what's going on in that mind of hers."

Fran crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back in her chair slightly. "If she was raised in the slums, then how did she end up with Draklor's elite?"

"Coincidence and scholarship." At Fran's questioning look, Balthier rested his arms on the table and lowered his voice, as though what he was about to say was a secret. "She had always been good with airships and had tried repairing some old ones in a junk yard on her own. One day there was an airship crash--a small one, nobody was hurt--in the middle of the city. Its location made it so that it couldn't be moved by machinery, so the only option was to fix it. Problem was, it was a very old model and nobody had the wires needed to completely fix the engine, or whatever was broken. Valeia had developed universal wires, something unheard of at the time, and snuck over to fix it herself--they wouldn't allow her to attempt to because she was only thirteen. Or fourteen. No matter. Long story short, she was able to repair it, my father was there, he was impressed and convinced that she was some sort of child prodigy, and gave her a full scholarship to the junior Akademy--"

"Where you were attending, correct?"

Balthier nodded. "However, she was completely and utterly dumb when it came to anything besides airships or things that related to them. We got partnered up for a project, we became friends, and then I helped her get through school. That's part of the reason why I don't trust her even now that she's left the slums. Sometimes she simply does not know anything. That and she became my father's apprentice, which makes me think that she used nethicite much more than she said and perhaps is involved in something right now, what with her 'private work.'"

The thought was not a pleasant one. What if she was continuing Cid's legacy? It would explain the Draklor theft a bit. He shook the thought off. He had other things to worry about right now than Valeia and his father. They still hadn't even looked at the crime scenes yet.

Balthier's eyes trailed over to the bar as he tried to relax a bit. He noticed that they had his favorite ale and smiled."Did you happen to catch the name of this place?"

"I did not notice it."

"Hm. Well, we'll find our way back. I'd like to come back here later."