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Pirates of Ivalice - Chapter 7

A Pirate can always think on his feet.


Fran didn't entirely appreciate her partner wolf-whistling at her after she emerged from her room in the formal dress he'd given her, but she wasn't foolish enough to expect anything less from him. The gown was not greatly different to traditional Viera attire, simply adding a long skirt that skimmed the floor as she walked; however, it was enough that she could be admitted to the palace without scandal.

"I have outdone myself," Balthier remarked, practically glowing with pride. "Fran, you are enchanting beyond words," he serenaded far too enthusiastically for anyone, much less a highly sceptical Viera, to take seriously.

"No doubt you will find some given time," she interjected coldly. "New," she accused, directing her address at his own clothing – not by way of a compliment; it was likely where he'd spend the rest of his share of gil from Larsa, but he just cocked his head at her and grinned.

"Perhaps," he said privately, fastening a jeweled cuff-link in a hand-stitched cuff without the slightest hint of shame. "But, if you will recount, since we left the Dalmascan palace I have had no fewer than four shirts ruined in some way or the other, so I am duly entitled to a recompense." Fran said nothing, but her silence was approval enough. They set off from the Strahl through the Arcades aerodrome, and then caught a skycab to the Imperial Palace.

Their entrance was meant to be understated, but it was difficult to be subtle in any actions in Arcades with a Viera at your elbow. While Fran's dress was considerately chosen with all the right intentions, it did absolutely nothing to lower her profile as they entered the Palace. Heads turned from the moment she stepped up to the gates. She began to suspect Balthier had known as much, and probably just wanted to dress her up.

"I have an arm if you desire it," he offered quietly, when he noticed her cold eyes rolling uncomfortably around the main room upon their entrance. He knew his partner far too well to think she would even consider asking for support, so it was always down to him to offer it. He could hardly say that he felt entirely happy with every other man in the room looking at her like an appetizing cut of meat, so he was more than willing to assist..

"Not necessary," she replied confidently, holding her head up high and returning to anyone who dared meet her eye a look that could have shattered glass. She was perfectly capable of handling herself without Balthier's help, but should she wish a little pretense on his part to act as a buffer, she was glad she could ask.

"As you wish," he murmured in reply, letting a hand drift to the small of her back instead, and shooting her a sly smirk – they were both aware he'd take full advantage of the situation to be as outrageous a flirt as he could, simply because she would never let him get away with it normally. Being a pirate, he was an opportunist by nature, so not being allowed something only ever made him want it more. In a way, Fran knew she only reaped what she had sown.

They started to casually sift through the guests in search of Larsa, who was glaringly visible in a startling combination of an electric blue waistcoat, yellow shirt, and boots that were decorated in lime green.

"You know, friend, have you ever considered you may be colorblind?" said Balthier by way of greeting, cutting straight into the middle of an ongoing conversation, much to the shock of every person with an ear bent that way. For a few stark moments, guests only stared at him in blank horror – faux pas wasn't even close to the word for such a comment.

"You know, that is exactly what my governess used to say to me," replied Larsa, and with a warm smile he shook he Balthier by the hand.

"It has been too long since we last met," Balthier choose to lie, while Fran stood behind him neutrally assessing the room. She wouldn't have much chance to slip under the radar and loot belongings as she was, but she was sure some chances to take advantage of the situation would present in time.

"Yes, too long indeed," Larsa agreed guiltlessly, and then turned to the rest of his company. "My friends, may I introduce..." he began, and then trailed off at the right time so that Balthier could supply his inventions for the night. The surrounding guests, meanwhile, had at last noticed that a Viera was with the forthright young man, and were all unashamedly in staring at her, even the women.

"The Viera ambassador to Arcades, Jule" Balthier introduced, stepping aside modestly and gesturing to Fran, "and myself, her secretary."

"Ah, yes. How fares your stay in Arcades?" Larsa questioned merrily, finding great fun in the game being played; being Emperor to one of the great powers in Ivalice left little opportunity for the usual entertainments, so he liked to find them wherever he could.

"Oh, most hospitable, most hospitable," Balthier conjectured. "There is no absence of work for the likes of us."

"I can only imagine," Larsa agreed with a private joking tone. "Now, you simply must have a drink," he invited as a waiter passed by with thin fluted glasses of wine, but Balthier held up his hand.

"I think not," he deferred, having had quite his fill the night previous. "Milady, as all of her kind, takes poorly to the spirits, and spending so much of my time with her," he said with a very pointed look towards the gentlemen who still eyed his partner, "almost every moment of our day together, that I do not partake myself anymore merely out of habit."

Fran remained austere, but Balthier's sharp glances toward the male portion of their present company got the message across quickly enough, and soon a few of them shuffled off – miserably back to their wives or mistresses, or so Balthier liked to imagine.

Larsa, who was evidently usually very bored at this kind of event, probably took more pleasure in their presence than they did, having great fun taking them around and introducing them to various acquaintances and socialites. Balthier took pleasure in having an excuse to dote on his 'employer' without her protest, and spent much of his time scurrying around fetching things for her on utterly useless pretenses. However, it did give him plenty of opportunity to disappear off and return with mysteriously clinking pockets.

"Milady," he said adoringly as he held up his latest offering to her, saving her this time from a pair of gentlemen whose nearby wives ought to have been bothered by the way their husbands were looking at Fran, but were far too engaged in their own chatter to so much as notice that the olive-skinned lady did in fact have foot-long ears on top of her head.

Fran rolled her eyes, but saw that Balthier actually held a watch she had seen drawn from the jacket of one of the men only minutes ago. That, at least, brought a smile to her face. He leant in close, having to stand on the balls of his feet to be able to whisper to her without being overheard.

"Would you believe he dropped it?" he said secretively, enjoying himself far too much for the entire evening not to be premeditated in some calculating way.

"No," she replied sceptically. "I wouldn't." He cracked another grin, and with a casual movement dropped the watch into a pocket for safekeeping.

"I know not whether to call you suspicious or wise," he remarked.

"Both," she answered astutely. "How much longer do we need to stay?" she questioned, growing increasingly bored of the evening; however, for the first time in the evening Balthier was completely oblivious to her, instead staring across the room with a serious expression. "...Balthier?" she probed, speaking softly so that they might not be overheard.

"What?" he said with a jump, snapping his eyes back over to hers with nothing less than panic.

"I asked when we were to leave," she repeated, but found new matters more important. "What draws your concern so?"

"Oh, nothing," he said over-carelessly. "Nothing at all. We need not stay a moment longer... in fact," he announced hastily. "I really think we should go – right now." She followed the trail of his distressed glances, but the only remarkable thing she saw was a young woman striding purposefully across the room in their direction, with her expression none too favourable. Which was not really that remarkable, because it happened a great deal more than one would expect with Balthier.

Or exactly as often as you would expect, depending on how well you knew him.

Larsa was at the woman's elbow was, and did not seem nearly half so troubled by the situation as either the woman or Balthier did; upon reaching a close enough distance he attempted to introduce the two.

"Now, have you two met my cous-" he began amiably, but was quite shockingly cut off by the woman.

"You!" she shrieked, gesturing at Balthier. "What in Ivalice are you doing here Ffa-" She did not get half way through the word before he interrupted.

"Maddam please!" he rushed forcefully, his composition not wavering in spite of becoming the subject of the entire room's scrutiny in a heartbeat.

"Recall, my dear, that we are in public," he sternly reminded her, and she looked around as if she had honestly forgotten. She hushed herself quickly, as Balthier took her by the arm and led her away – throwing back a look back at Fran in the hope that she would clear the unexpected mess up for him.

Larsa looked more puzzled than anyone, and even Fran did not fully understand who the woman was or what her purpose was with Balthier. She could well be the lady of the house they had robbed a night previously, but he had not been specific enough that she could know for sure. It was equally likely she was another contact Balthier had upset posing as his old self, or even an old flame who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"...My cousin, Ceciliana," Larsa finished his sentence half-heartedly, and then looked across to Fran. "Although I suspect that perhaps an introduction is not necessary." They both watched as Balthier wove skillfully between guests still dotting the doorway, managing to keep his stunned company from murmuring another word.

"Seems not," she replied coolly, feeling Larsa's observation with indifference.

"You do not know her yourself?" he questioned intuitively. "I rather thought that partners such as yourselves shared all?" Fran smiled in a way that suggested she might have laughed in a more relaxed situation.

"I have not the patience or interest for such things," she remarked, "so, he does not share them with me." Even partners as close as they were needed their own privacies, and Fran cared very little for the details of who or what Balthier had amused himself with, should he feel the need to. She was confidant that if he truly desired to be with another, then he would simply say so and end their partnership on good terms – just as she would if it happened the other way round.

"Then you have no idea what all that would be about?" inquired Larsa, who was nurturing ever-greater concern for his cousin's welfare.

"I am afraid to say, Emperor," she told him, with the faintest shadow of a smile behind her sharp Viera features. "Your guess is like to be as good as mine."

Meanwhile, Balthier had only just hustled his unwanted company out of sight when spoke up again.

"What in the blazes are you doing here?" Ceciliana cried in outrage, twisting her wrist out of Balthier's grasp the moment they were out of earshot of the majority of guests. "I... I thought you were a renegade of the Empire, Ffamran!" she said furiously.

"Moreover, you went off last night and never returned! I was sure that you had been slain by a burglar...why, I was so shocked I passed out for a full hour!" Balthier thought to mention that was far more likely because of the copious amount of wine she had drunk, but sensed that there would be no stopping her until she'd said her piece, so he calmly crossed his arms and waited.

"I awoke to discover my home ransacked and no sign of you, so I ran and begged for help – only to discover from my uncle that you were meant to come to me today! Why, when he discovered that you had already come, and I told him of your seeking a marriage, he professed to know nothing of it!" Balthier attempted to stop his eyes from glazing over as she spoke, but it was an uphill battle as she raged on, "I deserve an explanation for this... nay, I demand an explanation, Ffamran!"

Balthier didn't quite know what to say once she finished; he'd rather been banking on never seeing this woman again in his life, but suddenly she was threatening to blow the whole operation.

"I...I..." he stuttered, urgently shredding through ideas in his mind. "... Could I not say the same to you!" he retorted confidently, landing upon the first thought that seemed even remotely plausible. "Was I not lied to also?" he assaulted. "Offered to be hid by a woman I see in the Emperor's select company the very next evening? A fine place to put my trust, for sure," he said scathingly, and the sharpness of his words appeared to hurt her.

"I..." she gasped, shocked. "I am not known to be that which you know I am," she countered in a hushed, secretive tone, stepping closer to him and checking over her shoulder for eavesdroppers. "You claimed no such thing. You swore to me you would be imprisoned should you be on Arcades' streets another day. Now here you are in the Emperor's entourage," she accused determinedly.

"I..." Balthier began, forcing his mind to think faster than it was accustomed to, feeling like he was trying to grind through some well-rusted cogs. "I am a prisoner," he concluded dramatically, and instead of reading total disbelief on her face, there was only confusion.

"Ah... when I left to search for the burglar last night... I... arrived in the kitchen and saw... Imperials!" he lied spectacularly. "They had tailed me to the upper district, and were soon to search your very house – it was they who made such terrible noises, you see!"

He half-believed that at any minute, Ceciliana would burst out laughing and call in the Imperials to drag him off to the cells, or worse yet, force him at gunpoint to marry the awful woman. Nevertheless, as long as she was silent he continued trying to dig upwards.

"Then... in my panic, I attempted to hide from them, causing the awful mess you found, but then... I realized if I were to be caught, your good name would be dragged down with my own, and your family's secret possibly uncovered – this I could not abide by," he professed dramatically, piecing parts of the story together as he went.

"I realized I had but a moment to flee, and in my panic smashed a window and fled from it; I had only seconds to spare before they were to descend upon the house. I ran from them as far as I could," he narrated, his confidence growing as he realized that his audience was listening with nothing less than total and utter devotion – giving him what he felt was much greater artistic license with his storytelling.

"I ran... but alas," he lamented tragically, "I was captured by no fewer than eight Imperial soldiers... armed Imperials... and their dogs." He decided that he much preferred this version of events for the night; it was far more heroic a story than his ungracefully falling half-drunk out a window, then adding insult to injury by landing in a puddle.

"Finally... this very morning I was in shackles before the Emperor," he carried on solemnly. "Only... he did not throw me to the dungeon because... because he wants me to uncover the rest of the..." He closed in on the idea suddenly, the brilliance of it only just occurring to him as he said it. "Yes!" he gasped. "Why, your very act of identifying me has put yourself at risk, Cecily!" he burst.

"Cecilian-" the poor woman began, but Balthier ran straight over her words without a second thought.

"-Larsa has imprisoned me, and is forcing my hand to uncover the entire network through my association with your family. Of course, I could not deny your acquaintance, as you almost spoke my name just now... but I thought that perhaps if I could whisk you away, you might make an escape. So... so you must leave at once!"

It was a feat of fiction that even he was impressed with.

"Your entire family could be at risk if the Emperor finds out what has passed between us," he pointed out ominously, when she didn't make an immediate dash to jump out of the nearest window and rid himself of her for good.

"...Truly?" Celiana gasped frightfully, not even a moment of doubt crossing her mind.

"True as my feelings for you," he replied sharply; unquestionably the only honest thing he'd said to her so far. "But you must be gone," he urged, wrapping his hands around her shoulders and starting to push her in the direction of the exit. "If you can get away now, perhaps the both of us will be spared," he promised as he felt her hesitation through her body. "I may be able to slip his net of my own accord."

"Do you really believe so, my love?" she exclaimed, and thankfully Balthier was behind her, so didn't notice the way he flinched with her intolerably romantic term of address.

"Oh, certainly," he said through gritted teeth, guiding her forwards ever-faster.

"So, we will be together again soon?" she questioned, spinning around suddenly to face him with barely enough time for Balthier to wipe the scowl off his face.

"I will be by your side again before you even know it, Ce-... my dear," he unashamedly lied, and then with a firm grip whirled her away from him again. "However you simply must go now," he pleaded, "or all will be lost."

He was certain that he had her this time, when at the last moment she spun again and threw her arms around his neck. With a soft groan Balthier rubbed a hand on his forehead wearily, patting her on the back with his other arm the way someone might pet a whining dog. He counted to five before gently prying her away – he didn't want to be too harsh, for fear of scurrying her convenient but totally misplaced faith in him.

"Later, later," he repeated as lovingly as he could, in spite of a general inclination towards throttling her rather than embracing. "Now off you run." He gave her a slight push, accompanying it with a smile to suggest he was being playful rather than trying to shove her out of his way, muttering thanks to all the gods he knew as she finally took the hint and skittered out the door.

Once he had confirmed that she was most definitely gone, Balthier smoothed his hair back into place, checked his appearance in a nearby mirror, and returned to the party none the worse for wear.

"Pray tell, what was all that in aid of, if you don't mind my asking?" interrogated Larsa when the incognito pirate rejoined his company. "Ought I be worried for my cousin Ceciliana?"

"Ceciliana?" Balthier echoed, finding the name only vaguely familiar, and then realizing that was what the woman had kept on saying to him. "Well, only as much as she ought be worried about you," he replied ambiguously, stepping close to Fran's side with a relieved air.

"I am afraid I do not quite follow you," said Larsa cautiously.

"I am afraid that was rather the point," he replied glibly; as a true Arcadian born and bred he knew better than anyone the value of information, and was careful not to give away anything without getting its due price first. His failing good mood – a result of his fraught interaction – did nothing to help his tone, either.

"I imagine I better not ask, in that case," the Emperor said with a quiet, resigned sigh. "If you do not mind, I have some other company to attend to." He bowed his head politely before stepping away from them, but none of them missed the air of mistrust and tension. Cordial as they may be at times, they were not – and would not – ever be true allies.

"We ought to be going on our way too," Balthier remarked wearily to Fran, who more than shared his sentiments. "It never pays to leave the Strahl alone for too long, especially in Arcadia," he added with a glance at the retreating Emperor.

Whether the Strahl was far remodelled beyond her original state or not, the Empire still maintained that she was Arcadian property, and as such should be recaptured at any costs. In practice Larsa was not much bothered about rogue airships, and the Arcadian skyfleet certainly wasn't missing them, so he overlooked the issue at both their conveniences. Too much upset, however, could easily change the boy's mind.

"We moored in the aerodrome for once," she reminded him as they made their swift disappearances, as did a number of carelessly abandoned purses of gil from pockets and poorly-fastened handbags.

"Which I am very much glad for," he said with relief, stretching out each of his shoulders in an attempt to alleviate all the tension the past few days' trials had wound up in them. "We'll not have far to go before we're home again."

The words were optimistically spoken, but too soon said, as what greeted them was a very cold, empty airship bay in the Arcades aerodrome.

"But... how could this happen?" questioned Balthier exasperatedly, his voice echoing off the bare walls. "Are you certain it was this bay?" he asked Fran again.

"You know as well as I, we've made no mistake," she replied, her own tone dead and unforgiving, as she observed the vast empty space.

"Well then, where is our ship?" he snapped crossly. "It is not as if she could just vanish into thin air." He paused for a moment and then picked up a discarded nut near his feet, throwing it high and long through the air, waiting hopelessly for a clang against something, anything that might suggest that what he saw wasn't what he saw.

He looked across at Fran, who wore a solemn expression.

"No," he pleaded, his anger quickly funnelling away into fear. "Don't say it, Fran."

"She is gone," the verdict passed.

"Don't you think I can see that?" he snarled, gesturing with a wild swing of his arm across the empty bay.

"Stolen," Fran elaborated, in spite of not being asked to.

"How?" Balthier spluttered. "By whom? She's armed with the best security devices in Ivalice, and was docked in the safest damn aerodrome in the entire nation!" His shouts bounced around the distressingly empty room, reminding them both of the terrible reality.

"There ought to have been guards," she pointed out, beginning to look around for any clues or calling cards left by the apparent thieves.

"There ought to have been a great many things," Balthier retorted sharply, "at least one of which should have prevented someone from stealing our sodding airship. We are the sky pirates," he ranted, "it is we who are meant to steal!" There were only a few situations in which Balthier ever really lost his cool, but losing his airship – and by extension his entire means of living – filled places one through to five in his top ten list.

"We must be calm," Fran interjected coldly, and her partner shot her a less than pleased look. "There will be some sign of what passed," she explained. "Ranting will not help."

"No, but it will make me feel a great deal better," he replied cruelly, tipping his head back to look up at the sky above them longingly. "It has to be the little brat," he declared suddenly, sounding as if his Imperially-unsympathetic company of present were starting to rub off on him. "The invitation tonight must have been a distraction, so that he could double-cross us."

"Why would he do so now?" Fran pointed out. "He may possess the power to have her taken, but it is unlikely he would choose to betray us now, when he has so recently been asking for our aid."

"Who else could it be?" Balthier challenged. "Vaan is only just capable of finding his own ship, let alone ours, and it is hardly common knowledge that we docked in Arcades tonight." The private bay they had used was one of the most secure in the whole Aerodrome, and filled out in a pseudonym; not a soul ought to have been able to find them.

"There is no such thing as a secret in this city," his partner reminded him frostily. Arcades was hardly Balthier's favourite place to be, but she was unashamedly even less fond of it than he. "Larsa did not act as if he held guilt toward us tonight," she said firmly, making it clear that she was giving him her final decision on the matter. "I do not believe he betrayed us."

Balthier turned his head to watch at her for a moment, and then sighed and dropped his shoulders. He knew better than to question her judgment, even if it was not the result he wanted.

"Think of how loose our tongues were upon leaving the Palace today," she pointed out regrettably. "We chatted too casually of our intent to dock at the aerodrome. Any passer-by with an ear for us would have heard. Did hear."

Balthier's steadily more ruinious expression confirmed the dreadful truth; they ought have known better, but their confidence from the night's pursuits had loosened their caution.

"Then there's only one man left in the city who could have done this," he said resignedly. "And I did so try to warn him against it." After flexing his fingers, he wrapped one hand around the other and clicked his knuckles wearily. "Come," he beckoned, setting off towards the aerodrome exit. "I think it time we pay my dear acquaintance Jules a visit."


End of Chapter 7


Traa-la-la leave a review if you fancy. Tell you what I fancy? Balthier. ;)