THE ROYAL, THE RUNAWAY, AND THE STREET RAT – CHAPTER 3
Fran coughed as she inhaled even more dust.
The passage they'd found beneath the carpet clearly hadn't been used in a while. Cobwebs hung on the walls like tapestries, and the air was thick with dust. It didn't help that she'd gone down first – Fran had to endure the filth while Balthier descended down through the reasonable cleanliness she'd left in her wake.
"How far down are we?" he called down to her.
"It's too dark to tell."
Balthier groaned. The two carried on in silence until Fran started at the feeling of cold stone beneath her feet rather than the wooden ladder.
"There's your answer." Fran stepped off of the ladder and felt around in the darkness for a door. She pushed at a stone, and when she felt it loosening she continued, and soon the stone thumped to the ground on the other side. A single shaft of light poured into the small room. Granted, it the light was dim, but it was light all the same.
Fran kept pushing at stones until she had enough room to clamber through the hole. Once out, she extended her hand to Balthier. He took it, and pulled himself out into the open. The pirates took their time to loosen their muscles and brush off their clothes – being stuck in a cramped space for so long hadn't done them any good.
Balthier was about to speak when Fran's ears twitched. She'd heard something.
"Quiet," she ordered, and Balthier obliged.
Through one of the walls, Fran could hear metal knocking against metal, and wooden chests creaking open. Then a metallic clunk, and after that, a barely audible gasp. Someone was in there.
"We have company," she said, and Balthier raised his eyebrows.
"Do we now? We'll have to introduce ourselves."
Fran pointed Balthier in the direction of what she'd heard. The wall would've gleamed gold if the room wasn't so dankly lit. Balthier pressed his hand against it, and it slid down, revealing a treasury worthy of its name.
Gold, jewels, and magicite glittered in the candlelight. Golden statuettes sat upon stone pedestals, and chests full of priceless gems lined the walls. But among them stood a thief holding the very thing they'd came for – the Goddess Magicite.
"Quite a performance." Balthier's announcement of their arrival gave the young man a start. He whirled around to face them, looking like a frightened Giza bunny.
"Who are you?" He asked, his blonde hair made brighter by the candlelight.
"I play the leading man, who else?" Balthier replied with a smirk, and Fran stepped out from behind him. Now that gave the boy a real shock.
She walked over to him, staring him down, intimidating him.
"Fran, the magicite." Fran heeded Balthier's order and reached out to grab the magicite from the thief's hand.
"Now then, I'll take that."
"No, you won't." The boy recoiled before she could get her hands on it. "I found it. It's mine."
Balthier stepped further into the treasury. Fran abandoned the boy to stand with her partner. Balthier looked up to her with exasperation, and Fran couldn't blame him. The stranger was being awfully childish.
He folded his arms. "And then when I take it from you, it'll be mine."
The boy looked ready to retaliate, but he was interrupted by the sound of yelling guards and clanking armour. Fran and Balthier were equally used to that sound from their sky pirating days, but the boy looked like he was about to soil himself. Clearly, he hadn't thought his plan through, whatever that plan may be.
Balthier sighed, not happy that their supposedly fool proof plan hadn't worked out in the slightest. He gave a sideways glance at the door they came from, then looked back up at Fran. "Exit stage right."
As the thief broke into a run and disappeared through the door, Fran remarked: "The gods do not smile on us."
"I like it better that way." Balthier smirked, and the pirates followed the lead of their new acquaintance.
Penelo was taking dirty plates to the kitchen when it happened. She had barely got down the steps when the sounds of sharp screaming pierced the air. She dropped the plates in fright, their smashing only adding to the cacophony. The young girl raced up the stairs to see what had happened, only to see that the once glamorous dining hall had been turned into a place of chaos.
The nobles were being evacuated by imperial guards, and the consul was nowhere to be seen. The evacuation was far from orderly – the haste of the panicked people had left the whole room a mess. Chairs had been haphazardly pushed out by the nobles, and some of the crazier ones must have climbed over the table, as the once beautiful layout had been turned to a wreck.
Scared, Penelo turned back to the kitchens and shrieked when she found someone right behind her. It was only Migelo.
"You scared me to death!" Penelo cried, placing a hand on her chest.
"My apologies, but you need to get out of here," the Bangaa told her, pushing her along.
"What's going on? What's happened?"
Migelo leaned in and told her: "The Resistance tried to kill the consul."
In any other situation, Penelo would be less than surprised. But at that moment she was caught in the middle of it, and her panic sky rocketed.
"Oh my lord…"
With Migelo's encouragement, Penelo fled back down the stairs to the servant's entrance, which was just about as chaotic as the dining room. The servants were clustered around the door, pushing and shoving, clamouring for escape. Not wanting to be caught up in the crowd, Penelo started searching for another way out.
As she ran further and further into the dingy, servant's quarters, she wondered if she'd made a mistake in abandoning the others. Now she was alone, or at least, she thought she was. One of the Resistance members could be right around the corner, happy to take a hostage…
Rounding a corner, Penelo's heart skipped a beat when she saw a window opening out onto the palace's side. She ran forward and started to push it open. The window swung open with ease, and Penelo clambered out into the outside world.
The outside of the palace was worse than the inside. The Resistance and the Imperial guards were battling in the courtyard. The screaming of those fallen hung heavy in the air, and dead bodies lay amongst the fighting ones.
There was no sign of the evacuated nobles, or the crowd of servants. Penelo stood by the side of the castle, and scanned the area for means of escape. When no clear course of action showed itself, Penelo whimpered.
I should've stuck with the others.
Suddenly, someone was charging towards her. It was a woman - not a guard, but a resistance member. She wore the armour of a Dalmascan general, and carried the weapons to match. Her features were hard to pick out in the night. She dashed to Penelo's side and instructed her the way only a general would.
"There's ivy in the back garden. Use it to climb over the walls, and you'll be safe." With that, the woman charged back into battle, leaving Penelo dumbfounded.
Who was she? Why did she help her? Was her advice genuine? How did she know? Despite these questions racing in her mind, Penelo felt that she had no other option but to follow the woman's advice. She turned and fled to the back of the palace, and sure enough, the back walls were covered in ivy.
The fighting had spread to the back, but it wasn't as intense as the front. Penelo made a mad dash for the ivy, sticking close to the shadows of the palace walls. She grabbed onto the thickest vine she could find and hoisted herself up, climbing as fast as she could to reach the top. When she arrived, she slid over the side, not even thinking about how far down the drop was. As she landed, she slipped and twisted her ankle, crying out in pain.
But no matter how painful the fall was, the important thing was that she was safe. Using the stone walls to support her, she lifted herself up and limped back to the main city, the sounds of war echoing in the darkness.
"Stop running!" Balthier yelled.
Fran and him had followed the magicite thief back up to the bridge they'd arrived on. They had a full view of the fighting going on in the front garden as well as the airships that clustered in the sky. The boy had stopped, but only to stare dumbfounded at the battle.
"What's going on?" he asked, but it was almost inaudible for the huge explosion that had just shook the palace. Fran and Balthier instantly dropped to their knees, and they held firm. But the boy was sent reeling by the blast, and only just managed to steady himself before he landed on the stone.
"Fran, the bike," Balthier said under his breath, and Fran nodded, standing up and dashing past, unnoticed.
Balthier rose and looked to the sky. "The Ifrit, eh? That's quite an entrance. Impeccable timing. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were waiting all along."
The boy stared at him for a moment, but soon continued his escape. He skidded to a halt when he saw his route had been obstructed. Fran, who was astonished at finding the hover bike where they'd left it, had driven it right into his path, blocking any hopes he had of escape.
"End of the line!" Balthier yelled over the din of the battle. "You have something that belongs to me."
The boy looked shocked – he was in over his head. But soon Balthier shared this feeling as a spotlight shined straight on them. He looked to the Viera, "Fran, let's move!"
Fran nodded and started up the bike. It lifted into the air smoothly, and she spun it around. Guiding it down to the bridges edge, she was just in time for Balthier to grab the boy and throw him on to it. He was swiftly followed by Balthier himself, who managed to land on the bike while the boy fell past them. Balthier grabbed onto his hand, and soon they were soaring back into the sky – but something wasn't right.
"Let go of me!" the thief yelled, still clinging to his magicite.
"Keep this up and I will," Balthier growled at him.
The bike started to slow down, swerving in all the wrong directions. No matter what Fran tried, it wouldn't obey her. Balthier shot her an angered look. "What's going on, Fran?"
She shook her head, still struggling with the controls. "I don't know. It's not heeding me!"
"I don't have time for this…"
"I'm slipping!" the boy yelled, and his complaint seemed to do nothing for Balthier's already tetchy mood.
Fran had lost full control of the bike when it suddenly turned off. They hung, suspended in the air for a split second, and then the bike went crashing down to the ground. It collided with the damage caused by the earlier explosion, breaking through the weakened ground and into the murky depths of the Garamsythe Waterway.