"Following the destruction of the Draketongue Manse and, therefore, the official death of Her Excellency Feng-Yin of the White Dragon Clan, apparently by murder, the God-Emperor of the Old Kingdom sent representatives in protest to the kingdoms of Rozarria, Arcades and Dalmasca. It was agreed that the pirates, in their battle over the prototype, had destroyed each other and Her Excellency, and as such, the God-Emperor named a Mandate-Vendetta against the pirates of Ivalice. His Majesty the Emperor of Arcades, Lord Larsa, graciously allowed the construction of an Imperial Gateway on the Tchita Highlands, from which strode forth the first Summoners that Ivalice had ever seen, and the Old Kingdom's spirit-living engines of siege and war. The first pirate haven to fall was Balfonheim."
-Excerpts from Piracy after the Succession War, by David Walsinram, University of Archadia Press
Rules of Engagement
9
What the birds saw
Basch seldom, if ever, heard Lord Larsa raise his voice in disagreement, and this novelty stayed his hand before he knocked.
"…and you are certain that no bomb was present? Al-Cid, this is a matter of utmost importance!"
His Grace the Grand-Duke of Rozarria, on the other hand, kept his tone reasonable. "Come now, Lord Larsa. What else would you wish? A signed statement in blood from all my scientists? Besides – not that I am accusing anyone of such – the prototype did spend some time on an Archadian destroyer."
"It is well that you do not call blame, because Gabranth would never-"
"Whether he would, or he would not, the matter stands that this White Dragon child was killed by a bomb, installed in the prototype, of which both our countries have handled." Al-Cid sounded bone-weary, and there was a heavy rustle of fabric, as though the Duke had just slumped into one of the stuffed velvet couches in Larsa's office.
Basch decided that he had eavesdropped long enough, and rapped politely on the wood. "Sir."
"Come in, Gabranth," Larsa said, and Basch entered the chamber, closing the door diffidently behind him.
Larsa's private sanctum used to be his brother's, and Basch often wondered how much Larsa had really put his private grief behind him: it had changed little since he had first seen it, years ago: all of Vayne's souvenirs from his youth of conquest remained framed on the walls – here a scrap of tapestry from the Makir province; there an affixed, ceremonial sacrificial dagger from the Rothoar tribes. All that Larsa had added was another set of shelves, a little order in the cabinets, and one of his brother's spare blades, in a glass case over the door.
"Your Grace. Lord Emperor. You sent for me?"
"No need for formality," Al-Cid said, waving him with a melodramatic sweep of his arm to a couch. "We've heard tell of some rumors from the Old Kingdom forces that it is entirely possible that the pirates were not the culprits of that child's death, after all."
"And the rumors are quite absurd," Basch said, unsurprised. The Bureau he had inherited from his brother handled military intelligence, after all. "As you say, there is a belief that either Rozarria or Arcades was the source of the bomb. Dragon oil was used, it seemed, which is an extremely expensive substance, difficult to find in such pure a form as samples taken from the Purveema suggest was used. Save-"
"In the Rozarrian coffers, for use in creating Imperial fireworks," Al-Cid supplied, with a wry smile.
"And in the Arcadian Emperor's military custody, for creating experimental weaponry," Basch continued, with a glance at Larsa. His Emperor sighed.
"I understand what you suggest, Gabranth. No doubt the Old Kingdom wonders so themselves. How would some pirates have attained a large enough quantity of pure dragon oil with which to destroy themselves?"
"Still, you do not see my point, Larsa. Why was the child living with pirates, in the first place? Were she not on the Purveema, the destruction of more than half the Pirate Lords in Ivalice would have been seen as a blessing." Al-Cid thumped his fist down on the stuffed arm of his chair. This half year had worn down the Grand-Duke – he looked thin now, almost unhealthy, and there were dark rings under his eyes.
"Ah, but by the reasoning of the God-Emperor, she was there as a guest to Draketongue, who was a close friend, it seemed, of the patriarch of the White Dragon Clan," Larsa pointed out dryly. "She went to Ivalice with the blessing of her father, who claims that he had no idea what Draketongue truly was."
"The girl did not write home very much, did she?" Al-Cid said dryly.
"She was very much attached to Draketongue. And, by the testimony Gabranth has given, he showed her much kindness. Perhaps she turned a blind eye – she was very young, after all. And this is quite irrelevant." Larsa added, a little testily, his renowned temper long frayed.
"Truly? Well, other than that, we have made quite the blunder – you, myself, Queen Ashelia," Al-Cid sunk deeper in the armchair and closed his eyes. "By allowing them to occupy Balfonheim – so close to Archades – and Tal-hadir, in Rozarria. True, they have all but eradicated our pirate infestation, but they now show no interest in leaving. And you have seen firsthand the power of their arsenal. Now they have three Gates near Archades and two near my capital, Kurdis."
"Dalmasca appears to have been spared, Your Grace," Basch pointed out.
"Dalmasca is yet recovering from Archadian occupation. I am not certain how much aid Queen Ashelia can lend us, were she even politically able to do so," Larsa opened a folder on his desk, leafing through correspondence. "The hatreds of her recovering citizenry still run deep. She has kept neutral so far."
"She is actually the reason for my visit," Al-Cid said, folding his arms behind his back. "This room is secure, I trust?"
"As much security as half a million gil in wards and machinery can buy." Larsa sat up straight. "What do you wish to discuss about Queen Ashelia?"
"I have been thinking," Al-Cid said mildly, "And this may be a long shot at first, but a certain pair of pirates of our mutual acquaintance have been known to be very good at being seemingly dead, when they are in fact alive."
"You speak of Balthier and Fran. They are dead," Basch said, his voice steady. He had long done his mourning, and it had been surprisingly painful, for all that he had known the pirate again only for a brief time. "I encountered Vaan and Penelo before they left to take refuge in Dalmasca under Queen Ashelia. They accompanied some ships from Balfonheim to the Purveema, and witnessed the explosion. Few ships survived, and they did not find the Strahl. Rikken told me that they were not amongst the refugees."
"I did speak of being seemingly dead," Al-Cid said, reproachfully. "Now, following this little thread, assuming that they are not in fact dead, where would a pair of the most wanted pirates in the world hide?"
"In Dalmasca, with Vaan and Penelo," Larsa said instantly. "Queen Ashelia has a gentle heart under her steel. You are suggesting…?"
"They are dead, Your Grace," Basch insisted, leaning forward. "They must be."
Al-Cid looked at Basch for a long moment, until the Judge-Magister began to blush, then back to Larsa, who shrugged slightly. "Even if they were not, Al-Cid, what use would there be of finding them?"
"The Bunansa family's name is known even in Rozarria, Larsa. And as your Magister has told us, Balthier was instrumental in researching the prototype. Perhaps he would know what ensued. Then the Old Kingdom representatives would return and we would have a diplomatic solution to an increasingly warlike situation for a change."
"It remains that this is purely hypothetical on your part," Larsa argued, then frowned when Al-Cid began to fumble in the sleeves of his heavy ceremonial robe. "Al-Cid…"
Al-Cid tossed an iconograph print to Larsa, then one to Basch. "One of my little birds took this picture in Dalmasca, half a week ago."
The print showed the bazaar, shadows harsh from the scorching Dalmascan sun, thronging with business. Shopkeepers stood on crates to stay above the mass of humans, Seeq, and other races as they bought and sold. And behind a bangaa precariously balancing a ceramic pot on his head was a pale blonde man in Dalmascan dress, his skin bronzed by the sun, his head half-turned to address someone behind him.
It was unmistakably Balthier.
Basch swallowed the lump in his throat and fought the heat prickling in his eyes. So the pirate had survived. But then, why had he not-
"So you see," Al-Cid said, and Basch realized hastily that the Grand-Duke was watching him closely, "The pirate survives. The question of his partner is a little more difficult. One Viera looks more or less the same, were she to dress in those little white tunics."
"Fran is different in that she has white hair," Larsa mused, staring at the photograph.
"By the same logic you would say that you could recognize the pirate Balthier by his brown locks," Al-Cid pointed out, with a lazy smile.
Larsa conceded the point with a sigh. "Did you speak to Queen Ashelia?" the Emperor placed the photograph delicately on his desk, as though it would combust at any moment, his eyes now unreadable.
"She denied all involvement, of course, even when I showed her the photograph. Naturally. Balthier is her friend, after all, even after everything. That is why I asked you to call 'Gabranth' to this discussion. You did live in Dalmasca for many a year, and perhaps Queen Ashelia will speak to you where her loyalty to her friends causes her to keep her silence with us."
Larsa turned to look at Basch, and his expression was uncomfortable. "I would not order you to go."
"But you would ask, sir?" Basch did not look up.
"Aye. I am sorry. But you need not go in any official capacity," Larsa amended quickly, his implication obvious. Were Basch to meet Balthier in Dalmasca, he need pay no heed to his role as 'Gabranth'. Basch would have smiled if he could – as if t'would be so simple a thing as assuming a role in theatre.
"I will leave for Dalmasca on the next flight, Lord Larsa."
--
When the door closed, Al-Cid smiled, as Larsa shook his head slowly. "I do not like your methods, Al-Cid."
"You made no move to stop me, Lord Emperor," Al-Cid drawled, with a teasing emphasis on Larsa's title that the Emperor pointedly ignored.
"Balthier was – is – my friend. But he did play that unforgivable trick on Basch's feelings. I do not know." Larsa clasped his hands tightly under his chin. "And if the alternative is war… I truly do not know what we should do. We do need the information from Balthier – that much I agree. Giving him up to the Old Kingdom – that I do not. If their interest was solely in conquest, I can assure you they will not stop so easily."
"No. They will not," Al-Cid nodded soberly. "But in the world of politics a week's delay, a month's, can be invaluable, and I do think the pirate would be worth just that. Put out the word, that the existence of witnesses to what transpired atop the Draketongue Purveema have come to light, and that we seek said witnesses with all ado. Delay and misdirect the representatives the Old Kingdom sends you."
"And so we wait?" Larsa pinched at the bridge of his nose, a gesture that made Al-Cid smile. "What?"
"Your brother always did that, when he was irked," Al-Cid said softly, and for all the amusement in the Grand-Duke's face Larsa was schooled enough to read his gentle warning.
"I remain just as much myself as the Arcadian Emperor, your Grace," Larsa said dryly, "To continue to disapprove of your methods."
"'Tis a start," Al-Cid grinned broadly. "A start. Now you just need to get yourself a gorgeous wife with nice childbearing hips to settle down with. I have many cousins of marriageable age, perhaps-"
"Al-Cid!"
--
Halfway through packing Basch was well enough past shock to look askance at Zargabaath, who was lounging in his (Gabranth's) apartment's couch in a military jacket and breeches, boots propped up on the scuffed antique table, looking at the photograph.
"'Tis after hours, but did you not say you were busy?" Basch said mildly, as he folded another shirt into the bag.
"If t'was your brother, he would have said 'get the fuck out of my place'," Zargabaath's wrinkled face crinkled into a grin.
Basch snorted. "Do not think I am not tempted, but I would not be so rude as to say that to a bearer of gifts." Zargabaath had, surprisingly enough, provided a couple of sets of Dalmascan-style vests and breeches which, although a little tight across the shoulders, were still fairly comfortable.
"My cousin has no need for them at his age." Zargabaath shrugged, "And you will stand out like a sore thumb in Archadian dress."
"I was planning on wearing my-"
"And I do believe 'tis time you disposed of that set of patchwork rags you were previously 'wearing'," Zargabaath continued blithely. "After all, people usually dress at least decently when meeting lovers."
Basch turned bright red (to his embarrassment) and dropped the snow globe souvenir that Larsa insisted he give to Penelo, and spent some confused moments rooting under the bed for it. "That… that's not… I mean…" He took a deep breath. "'Tis not that way."
"Hah!" The old man looked satisfied, and Basch sourly remembered that for all of Zargabaath's reputation as a militaristic Judge, his severity in Court and his iron fist in classes, he took a paternal approach to treating his associates, and somewhere along the line Basch had been classified as such in the older Magister's mind. It was probably because Zargabaath was the one overseeing Basch's continued private reeducation in the Archadian legal system, and admittedly, he liked the cantankerous old man, but…
"Besides, you did not answer my question. Were you not busy?"
"And you are changing the subject," Steely gray eyes winked briefly at Basch before turning back to the portrait. "Certainly I am busy, but nothing that overtime on my Chief Aide cannot solve."
Basch felt a temporary twinge of sympathy for Chief Aide Trillian, and busied himself locating the antique scrollwork that Larsa wished to gift Queen Ashe. He was fairly sure he had left it on the dresser. "We are not lovers."
"As of yet." When Basch's ears reddened, Zargabaath snorted. "I am very familiar with the look of matters, Basch. He did use to be my Chief Aide. Even then he had more than his fair share of admirers."
That comment made something in his belly twist, uncomfortably. "He is handsome,"
"And that said so stiffly," Zargabaath grin was almost sly. The damned ascetic old fox was enjoying himself. "I but came to lend you the clothes, bring some wine and give some-"
"Advice?" Basch inquired, and had to hide his smile as the older Judge sniffed. "I am a little too old to be lectured, and you will but call your own age into question were you to persist. I think Balthier knows very well why he is sought, and what would happen were he captured, and I know that I am being used. Is that the sum of your advice?"
"Said so self-evidently," the older Judge grumbled, "Sometimes I worry about you."
"I but wish to know what occurred. Nothing else."
"You do have a duty as a Judge."
"Were you to see him, would you take him into custody? You are well aware what our current laws would dictate."
"I am not the one leaving for Dalmasca," Zargabaath said comfortably, "And were he to take leave of his senses and appear before me in Archades I daresay I can contrive not to recognize him."
"And you would put aside duty so easily?"
Zargabaath was silent for so long that Basch regretted his words, but before he could apologize, the old Judge said, quietly, "During the 'succession war' I stood aside as your brother killed a close friend of mine, Basch. Judge Drace was also his friend – she had been the first to approach a foreigner, so far away from his homeland and so out of place in the Akademy. The choice destroyed what was left of him, and I am not sure what standing aside has done to me."
"Zargabaath…"
"But then, I am an old man, and I am approaching the age of mandatory retirement," the other Judge smiled faintly. "Duty will excuse an old soldier of hers for bending the rules, I am sure. I lost many friends in the war. I am not sure I wish to begin the next with the loss of yet another."
"The next?"
"There will be war, regardless of what the Emperor can do, I think," Zargabaath stretched out further on the couch, turning his eyes up to the ceiling. "The actions of the Old Kingdom so far do not suggest peace, and I think this war was long in their planning. Why send a young girl with little or no escort to a distant shore, to live with a pirate lord? Surely they were but waiting for her death."
"Then we should simply prepare for war?" Basch looked over Zargabaath's shoulder, to the large glass windows that overlooked the central square park. Below, a group of children seemed to be playing tag around the trees, tailed by a large dog, which pranced around them, wagging its tail excitedly. Airships cruised leisurely past in the transway beside the square, over the sheer drop down to the Lower City. Archades was only beginning to forget the wars.
"We have no reason to oust them as yet. And they do not seem warlike to the citizenry. For the moment, all we have are suspicions, and they did aid us greatly in disposing of the pirates."
That was true, at least – Basch had seen the colorful performing troupes, so popular in their staged dances in the Eastern Circle; the small contingents of scholars that thronged the University. Hells, only a week ago a group of the best students of the final standard of the Akademy had been drafted into escorting some military Old Kingdom personages around the Department. He vaguely remembered them sitting through one of the Court sessions over which he had been presiding.
"So you are saying that the citizens of Archades, at least, would greatly oppose a war." Basch said wryly. "And Lord Larsa-"
"Mayhap he listens overmuch to the 'voice of the people'," Zargabaath said, not without a little distaste. "But that is his will, and as I have said, I am an old man."
"As well as one of Archades' foremost generals," Basch pointed out. "If you foresee war, no doubt you have already begun your own preparations."
"You were also a general, Basch." That made Basch blink – for safety's sake, Zargabaath hardly if ever used his true name. "Whatever you may learn in Dalmasca, I hope you return once you have satisfied your curiosity."
"You take ever too long to get to what you truly wish to say," Basch said, recognizing what he saw as the old man's underlying request and acknowledging it with a faint incline of his head. He was going to Dalmasca to find and speak with Balthier, and that was all he would do, official capacity or not. "Rest assured, I have no intention of tarrying."
"And by so saying you have not heeded my words of the past half an hour," Zargabaath retorted, shaking his head. "Good luck finding the brat. When were you leaving again?"
"Within the hour."
-tbc-
