I got a review and remembered I'm still meant to be updating this fic. Heh. I've been heavily distracted by... well. Megamind. I'm entirely obsessed with Megamind at the moment. Yes the giantheaded blue alien with Will Ferrel's voice from that dreamworks move. THAT Megamind. Let's not even go there.
So anyway. Balthier and Fran'n... stuff
Pirates of Ivalice - Chapter 4
A Pirate always values things by how much other people don't want him to have it.
Judge Gabranth, or Basch if you knew him socially, escorted Balthier and Fran back out of the palace after their meeting with Larsa, engaging in an unsuccessful attempt to learn from either of them what had been discussed – to no avail. Soon they strolled freely on the streets of Arcades again, breathing relief to be out from under the crushing atmosphere of the menacing Imperial palace.
Much to their surprise, they found the Strahl almost exactly as they'd left her, bar a few slight irregularities that seemed difficult to explain. While in the same place and hands they had left her in, Balthier insisted there was a crack in the windscreen that had not been there before – cracks did not just appear sitting quietly in the corner of a city – and more importantly, the height of his pilot's seat had been altered. Something he claimed would take days to get right again.
However, other than the suspicious signs of a joyride – which was really one of the least troublesome things to become of the ship in their absence, and had probably even helped to keep it undetected by the anchorage monitoring council – they made a clean run of the city, departing it a great deal richer than they arrived. Which was, of course, the best way to depart anywhere.
If they were lesser pirates, they might have considered flying away to Balfonheim with their takings and leaving Larsa's task to rot. However, there was more to it than the boy Emperor had betrayed, and pirates did not easily walk away from a secret.
"So, Fran? What was it you saw?" asked Balthier once they were securely in their own airship, away from the always-alert ears of Arcades, as he fiddling irately with the height adjustments on his seat. "I could make neither head nor tail of it, but if there is important enough to merit my doing something so singularly unpleasant as what I am going to have to do, then you had better enlighten me before I change my mind." He'd realised that while talking with Larsa, Fran had detected something with her keen Viera senses the boy had been trying to hide.
"There is something he desires from that place we are tasked to find," she explained to him. "He wants no one to know of it, not even his most trusted allies and guardians. That is why we must be so secret – so invisible – and bring him back the location, so that he alone may go there and retrieve it for himself."
"Sounds plausible enough," Balthier murmured thoughtfully. "Are you quite sure of it?" he inquired; if he was dragging up a past he'd been rather effective at burying, plausibility was not enough of a qualifying feature.
"I am certain." Those words were all that he needed to hear. If Fran was sure, then he would place his faith wholly in her intuition.
"Then could you fathom what it might be?" he asked, but she shook her head.
"He was too careful not to speak of it," she replied. "How'ere, it cannot be something of obvious value to us."
"Of course," Balthier followed. "He assumes we wouldn't help ourselves to it of our own accord. We might, though," he pointed out.
"A necessary risk." Larsa wasn't fool enough to tell them they could have anything bar one piece of seemingly-worthless item from the loot, seeing as they would've quite naturally helped themselves to it. A pirate always wanted what was of the greatest value; however, it was Balthier particularly to whom things were almost exclusively valued by how much other people didn't want him to have them.
"So what are we to do?" Fran asked as her partner flew the ship low around the outer reaches of the city, looking for a place to land.
"Why, we will follow our dear employer's orders to the word," he answered with an ill-boding smile. "I will make to Arcades – for a very short-lived return of the prodigal son – discover who these people are and where they sit. Then we'll rob their hiding hole, and exactly to the good Emperor's word, take from it anything we want," he finished with a sly grin, which Fran shared in her own more measured form as the Strahl slowly dipped in to land.
"I am to sit the ship, then?"
"If you wouldn't mind," he answered genially. "She'll be much safer occupied, and I'm sure you'll prefer it out here anyway." He made a quick gesture to the foe-ridden plains around them. "The company is far superior to the city, at least," he muttered sarcastically. "We'll communicate in the usual fashion. The moogles at least are trustworthy enough."
"I would rather here than Arcades," Fran confirmed. "Even alone." Balthier kept a fond smile to himself as he stood and headed towards his quarters; Viera were usually solitary by nature, so it gave him no end of pleasure that Fran made an exception of him. However, sentimentality could wait until there was some treasure in their pockets, and he needed to pack for Arcades.
"You know, this might not have to be quite as unpleasant as I suspected," he said by way of announcing his return to the cockpit a while later, having prepared a bag for the city; a few choice provisions he would need to tie him over a short residence in the finer areas of town. "If I arrange enough rumours correctly, I think I should have anyone I need in the palm of my hand by the end of the week. What's more, I'll need not go into old acquaintances, bar the one who can fix everything for me."
"Jules," Fran deduced. "You will trust him for this?"
"I will bribe him," Balthier corrected. "His services can make my impersonation of a self I no longer acquaint with as short as can be. Plus," he added brightly, "if he doesn't help me I'll knock his teeth in." He wasn't going to enjoy parading around as the son of Cidolphos Bunansa, regardless of whether he was or not, but he could always look forwards to hurting a detestable rumourmonger like Jules.
He suspected that his ghosts had been as exorcised as they were ever going to be anyway, so provided he took care in his actions, he wouldn't need to be any more involved than if he was impersonating a stranger. It would actually be easier than becoming a stranger, he supposed, as he could have the benefit of actually technically being his supposed persona.
While he'd be a liar if he claimed to have no anxiety concerning the mission, he certainly wasn't going to let that stand in the way of a perfectly good state secret just dying to be uncovered. It could end up being the performance of his lifetime, he reasoned with himself, as he readied the last of his supplies to leave.
"You will have to pass through Sochen," Fran said, plucking a bow from the wall and stringing it over her back. "So I will go with you as far as the old town." Balthier heaved a sigh, and they strolled out onto the foggy Tchita uplands.
"I wish there were some other way," he lamented, as the first of a rather large pack of wildcats started to eye them ominously. "I do so hate that rotten, stinking hole." The first of Fran's arrows took down the leader, but not before it had a chance to roar, and draw close all its pride.
"And the Sochen Cave Palace is rather nasty, too," he quipped, and was greatly delighted to hear Fran laugh.
"Why if that ain't a sight for my sorry eyes," remarked Jules, the most famed streetear in Arcades and proverbial Don of the information market. "Tis' a sky pirate whose name slips my mind for the moment," he exclaimed, examining Balthier carefully, as always.
"And you, Jules," he returned the greeting coolly, nodding his head sharply as he kept his arms crossed tensely over his chest.
"Last I hears you and your delightful companion were getting your sticky fingers into the royal palace of all places," Jules told him, and Balthier never failed to be impressed by how fast news travelled in this city.
"If we were, it is no business of yours," he said curtly. "Not when there's other work to be done." He made it clear he was serious, and Jules accordingly beckoned the lone pirate into a quiet corner of the old city where they could speak a little more privately.
"Tis not Balthier who warrants your aid today," he explained ominously, "but... Ffamran." Jules's eyes widened a little in surprise.
"Pray, what's the cause of this jubilant return?" he queried suspiciously.
"A little business, Jules, that's all," answered Balthier. "I lack gil."
"Rather a dull story," he retorted sceptically. "I'd say I didn't believe you, if I hadn't heard of all those debts you be owing all across Balfonheim," Jules sneered. "Ain't so fine on your luck, as of late, am I right?"
"Keep on, Jules, and I shall be forced to break something," Balthier explained coldly. "Preferably your jaw, so as to keep you from talking for a good long while."
"Oh you got the manners of a pirate, all right," the city-greased man muttered defensively. "No need f'personal threats, dear Ffamran," he scorned. "I'll always help someone such as yourself... for the right price."
"But of course. You know I always like to use the best on matters of importance," Balthier replied tersely. "Unfortunately enough, that's you." He reached into one of his pockets, and withdrew a still-bound stack of gil.
"I want it known that Ffamran is out of 'hiding'," he instructed, tossing the cash into the eager man's hands. "I'd appreciate it it if I'm well recommended to some reputable codger from the Arcades upper circles as soon as possible." He was exact as he could be in his instructions; if Jules was not given sufficient guidelines, he would weave any mischief he could. "If you do me good service, there will be more where that came from," he stated firmly.
"My, Ffamran," Jules exclaimed hyperbolically. "Fancy seeing you here of all places."
"If I need you, I will find you," he concluded, crossing his arms over his chest assuredly. "Believe me, Jules, I will find you."
"I'll bet your dashing lady-friend will be a rather enchanting shadow for me, won't she?" he suggested.
"Perhaps," Balthier replied. "As long as you aid me, there's no need for you to watch you back."
"I always do," Jules retorted. "Can't afford not to in my line of work."
"I imagine that's why you're still alive. So far," he quipped threateningly. "Farewell, Jules."
It was surprisingly easy to find the people he was looking for, Balthier discovered. Jules made good on his end of their dealings – for now, at least, and he'd a foot on the ladder before the day was out, in the form of an elderly gentleman who was well respected, rich, and also completely senseless.
It was then no more than a case of having each rung on the ladder recommend him to the next one up, and by getting men drunk and talking the right talk – with the casual mention of who his father was if the situation needed a catalyst – he was able to find a man who was deeply affiliated with the group Larsa sought. With a little bribery and an innocent spot of blackmail or two, he'd managed to get himself an audience with said fellow one evening, and had informed Fran that tonight could be a game night.
It hadn't been much more than a week, and she was keeping perfectly well out in the Uplands in their ship by herself, slaying fiends and enjoying the peace and quiet, checking up on Jules now and again. He, on the other hand, missed her company terribly and was sick of this city and all its banalities.
"Ffamran Bunansa!" the bloated gentleman in question said enthusiastically, shaking Balthier roughly by the hand in the smoggy air of one of Upper Arcades' most exclusive lounges. "By gods, it's been years since I heard your name."
"We've had troublesome times, friend," Balthier replied, laying on a city accent thick and heavy, as he had become accustomed to in the past week. "Troublesome years indeed. I thought it better to weather them out away from the City."
"What've you been doing, by heck?" the man inquired, passing Balthier a cup of wine poured from a carafe. "Heh heh!" he coughed, pressing a tarry rag to his mouth and then taking a deep, sucking breath on his pipe. "Oh, no matter to it," he decided hoarsely as smoke billowed from his mouth, when Balthier stonily refused to provide him with an answer. "You have returned at last. Tis only a shame your father is no longer here to see it."
Whilst to the careful observer, a tensing of Balthier's jaw and deepening of the shadows over his face as he drank could be seen, his companion was no such man, and the uncomfortable reaction to the mentioning of the doctor was passed by unnoticed.
"Yes, quite," he muttered sparsely, his knuckles just a little white around his glass.
"A great man, your father," the gentleman proclaimed. "Such vision."
"You could call it that," Balthier reluctantly agreed. 'Obsession' or 'madness' were far closer to the words he preferred, but he reminded himself it was all part of the act.
"Ahhh, such a loss to our city," the man said pitiably, and Balthier saw his opening.
"I hardly agree," he stated clearly, tilting his chin up a little disagreeably. "I think he would be stricken with horror, seeing what has been made of Arcades these three years past." He paused a little for dramatic effect. "A child in power," he proclaimed. "What madness would befall us next?"
There was a tense moment in which his companion processed Balthier's words, as if he were considering them carefully for insincerity. It was a lie to say that Balthier was absolutely certain he would be believed – at least not so suddenly, but he would give it his best shot, if it meant getting out of Arcades even a day sooner.
"You're a good fellow, Ffamran," the gentleman chuckled at last. "Oh yes," he snorted, "a smart man indeed. Dammed right, too! That foolish boy Larsa spits upon the great name of Solidor with each passing day. Why, if I thought I could live anywhere else I would have fled Arcades the minute Vayne Solidor fell."
"A great loss," Balthier lied, finishing his glass as his companion did the same, but managing to refill the gentleman's cup twice as full as his own, bringing it almost to the brim without being remarked upon.
"Ohh yes indeed," the gentleman slurred, puffing on his pipe again thoughtfully. "Arcades hasn't been the same since."
"And Dalmasca lost too," Balthier pointed out, causing the man to cough suddenly and pound his hand upon the table with the pipe in it, almost snapping the mouthpiece in two.
"Blast to those sand rats too," he grumbled. "We won their lands through fair warfare did we not? Why the blazes return them to a bunch of rebels and that woman of a ruler. Oh, but you know what they say about Dalmascan women, don't you, friend?" he rambled with a dirty, drunken laugh. "There's one thing they're good for," he laughed again, "–and that's lying on their backs!"
While Balthier could enjoy a joke on some of the more the scandalous ways of Dalmascans as much as the next conservatively-raised Arcadian, he couln't help feeling the desire to punch the gentleman in the face just a little. He would have to settle for emptying his pockets after he passed out. Which wasn't far off, judging by the glazed look in his eyes.
"You're a good fellow, Ffam...ran," he burbled a little more sedately, apparently tired by his sudden exertion of laughter, and not noticing that Balthier hadn't found his humours entertaining in the slightest. "A man who could use good friends," he slurred.
"Good friends is exactly what I'm in the market for," Balthier encouraged, taking another sip – the wine, while purchased by a pig, was still rather to his liking. "I am only just returned here, and know few men of decent standing and influence."
"Is that so?" the gentleman replied. "Well, you know, I happen to be very well connected in this City."
"Oh I can tell," Balthier said lavishly. "A man of your presence would have to be."
"Ohhhh yes," he said, puffing out his chest a little before puffing on his pipe a little more. "I could well introduce you to some of my..." he mulled over the word to use, "compatriots."
"If that came to pass, I should be greatly indebted to you," Balthier said with a bow of his head, and the gentleman grinned proudly.
"Tis no trouble at all!" he professed, and after rummaging around in his waistcoat pocket with his stubby-fingered hands, he pulled forth a scrap of loose parchment. "Blast and damn," he cursed as he continued to finger around in his jacket. "I cannot find a..."
"Pen?" Balthier supplied, holding out the one he'd been carrying around for this very purpose with pleasure.
"Ah yes, my thanks to you," the gentleman said sluggishly, grasping the slim implement in his hands awkwardly and scrawling out a name. "This is the name of my good brother," he explained. "I will tell him of your troubles, and he will be sure to help you."
"You do too much," Balthier said a little wearily. It was not a name he desired but an address, and if he spent any longer in this city he feared he was going to shoot someone, so he pushed harder.
"How'ere, friend, I must soon be gone, I fear, as I have a little urgent trouble that prevents my remaining in the Upper quarters too long." The gentleman's face contorted with an emotion Balthier gauged to be sympathy.
"What trouble?" the obscene fellow inquired eagerly.
"I have crossed paths with the man who rents rooms to me," he explained. "A filthy servant of the Emperor." Balthier was lucky his audience was so drunk, because his dramatics were way over the line of reasonable. "I spoke to him of my displeasure with Arcades of recent, and in my temper may have spoken one or two harsh words. As it becomes the man is a retired soldier! He now not only evicts me from my rooms, but has reported me to the Imperial bureaucracy as highly suspicious and even traitorous!"
Balthier made a surprised and enraged expression at the gentleman, suggesting it as the emotion that he should feel in return, which was obediently mimicked it back at him.
"Oh this will not do!" the gentleman snorted with rage. "What an awful state of affairs, my boy! Only just returned and to this? No, no, this will not do," he babbled, leaning over the parchment again and scribbling on an address. "Here, this is the home of my brother's daughter – my dearest niece, Ceciliana," he said. "She is a girl of great empathy and class, a cousin to the House of Solidor. Stay with myself tonight, and I will have words with her tomorrow morn – she will house you until this issue can be... ahem," he chuckled, "resolved."
"Sir," Balthier objected half-heartedly. "Would it not be of the greatest impropriety for a single man such as myself to stay with a similarly unattached lady?" At this, the gentleman just chortled.
"You will see, Ffamran," he sniggered, sucking again on his pipe. "It is not quite as you think. Go to meet her on the morrow, and all will become clear."
"I cannot thank you enough," Balthier said enthusiastically, actually sincere in what he said for once. "You have been of great help to me. I feel I must go now, though," he said with a false air of disappointment. "I can still spend one more night safely, thanks to-"
"No no!" the gentleman objected. "I will not hear of it! You will be my guest! Why, you must stay and finish this carafe at least." Balthier looked at the half-empty pitcher of wine, and then at the time on the far wall. It was particularly good, and so horribly wasted on such an uncouth, unappreciative audience. Not to mention, the oaf would be unconscious by the time they finished it, so he'd have opportunity to lighten his pockets and get away without trouble.
"Well... I can certainly do that much," he agreed, and poured himself a full glass. He'd have plenty of time.
End of Chapter 4
Well howdy doody. I just finished a 3 hour exam so what better time to lighten the mood with a little fanfiction? NO better time, I tell you. I hope anyone reading this is enjoying it, I had such a fantastic time writing it I do hope it's not terribly dull and boring or something awful like that :(
