An Interlude in the Port of Balfonheim

A/N: Here is another thank you to everyone as already this story has reached fifty reviews (lots of happy yelping)!

A special note to Sapereaude13 thank you for the PM… the link worked fine and now I am no longer in ignorance as to what exactly LJ community is….yah!

Finally I'm still feeling my way in the dark a bit with Penelo/Larsa and sadly this chapter has been hijacked by the overall plot a bit….still I think the Larsa/Penelo fluffiness in here is rather cute. ;)

Penelo could not help but feel just ever so slightly like a kidnapper. Well, no, not a kidnapper, but she didn't think there was a word for 'helping the Emperor escape his palace to travel to a pirate port to meet with his friend who has just escaped his own war-torn country, so that they can discuss things that the senate doesn't want discussing.'

'Where did you find this craft?'

Larsa's soft spoken question startled her as Penelo concentrated on landing the tiny, pokey little airship (a skiff or skiffer as it was known by those in the trade) into the Balfonheim aerodrome.

'Oh, it's a rental.' Penelo admitted.

'I see.' Larsa, 'Did you rent the craft under your own name?' He sounded just a touch worried.

Penelo shook her head, nibbling her lip slightly as she manoeuvred the ugly, squat rusty grey skiff into a docking bay. She could fly an airship and was an able navigator but in truth she had never been very good at docking, or take-off, which were the hardest parts of airship piloting.

'I didn't rent it….a friend did that.' At least she hoped that Jules had rented it and not stolen the craft, she wouldn't put it past the streetear but Penelo trusted Gerty and Gerty said that they had a friend in the rental business that would take care of everything.

Larsa looked a little disconcerted, 'I see.' He said again.

'Don't worry.' Penelo managed a smile now that the skiff was properly docked and she hadn't crashed the thing into a wall (which she had done once to the Beirouge, and numerous times to the Veccara –much to Vaan's annoyance).

'These friends won't leave any traces. If the Senate find out you've left they won't find out how or where you went.'

'I am not sure I care if they do.' Larsa admitted sighing as he brushed a sweep of glossy black hair back from his brow. 'That's what worries me. I should care. As Emperor I really shouldn't be here.'

Penelo didn't say anything as she unbuckled her seatbelt and turned off the engines ready to leave the little ship. It wasn't as though she could say much anyway. She could see it from both sides of the argument.

Larsa wanted to see Al-Cid with his own eyes and talk to his friend, as anyone would, but as Emperor it would be really bad if he was seen with the disgraced Al-Cid by someone loyal to Al-Cid's brother or one of Larsa's political enemies.

'We can go back.' Penelo suggested quietly.

She thought that Larsa might be regretting the argument he'd had with Zaagabaath that had led to Larsa acting very un-Larsa like and just up and walking out of his own Palace.

Penelo could still remember every moment of the amazing scene when Larsa had refused to be told what to do any longer.

'My Lord you cannot go to Balfonheim. Not only is it politically unwise but the port of Balfonheim is not a safe place for a man of your status. There can be no guarantee of your safety.' Zaagabaath had said.

Larsa, who had been delighted to hear that Al-Cid had made it to Balfonheim and Ashe had been reunited with Balthier in Dalmasca; both men having miraculously escaped Rozzaria with the aid of Rikken from Balfonheim (Penelo, who found it all less miraculous because she knew how the rescue had come about, had sat quietly staring at the floor, hoping to go unnoticed as Larsa quarrelled with his guardian).

'I will ensure my own safety.' Larsa had replied hotly, which for Larsa was the same thing as Ashe ripping off her coronet and flinging it at someone who upset her (which Penelo knew Ashe had done once, however Balthier had ducked and the jewel encrusted gold band had broken a palace window and fallen into the garden rose beds).

'Need I remind you that Archades has not been a safe place for a man of my status either? I have survived at least five attempts on my life already and none of those have come from pirates!'

Larsa had then dropped down onto the sofa Penelo perched on and angrily begun lacing up his plain, sturdy travelling boots, seemingly forgetting that Penelo was beside him.

For her part Penelo was fascinated by this new side of Larsa; irritated, arguing back and determined to get away from Archades.

'My Lord….' Zaagabaath clearly knew he wasn't going to win but he was supposed to try so he did. 'This is no time for hot-headedness, my Lord Larsa the situation is precarious and filled with unknown dangers. This could be a trap.'

Larsa looked up and fixed Zaagabaath with hot, glittering blue eyes, 'I am aware of that. I have no intention of proclaiming my presence to the port and awaiting an outcry.'

Larsa had snapped impatiently leaping to his feet once more and moving across to the weapons cabinet in his East Wing study that contained his trusted Joyeux and other short swords.

'I may have become a virtual recluse, trapped in this palace for the last year, sir, but need I remind you I was on Bahamut? I travelled to Mount Bur-Omisace with the lady Ashe when I was no more than twelve. I am not a fool.'

Penelo had almost forgotten to breathe as she watched Larsa buckle on his sword belts around his narrow waist and pull on a suede brown sur-coat, suddenly transforming himself from a well-dressed Emperor to a self-assured young wayfarer with a glossy shock of black hair.

She wasn't exactly scared of this new Larsa; instead her stomach swirled with a strange kind of prickly excitement. This was a different Larsa then the polite, gracious, well-mannered young man who was always so careful to think of others. Penelo wasn't sure, because she adored the nice Larsa, but she thought she might like this Larsa even more.

Almost absently Penelo brushed her lips with her fingertips. This new Larsa, she was sure, would not run away after kissing her. At least she hoped he wouldn't.

'My Lord, you cannot go alone.' Zaagabaath was stubborn, a man of duty who was going to do his duty to protect Larsa even if Larsa didn't want him too.

Larsa had turned then to Penelo who had felt like a dreamhare caught in the path of a bandercouerl when Larsa's brilliant blue gaze drenched her in an intense look that stopped her breath.

'I shall not be alone. Penelo will be with me.' Penelo had felt her heart somersault and her cheeks burn at his words. Larsa had turned back to Zaagabaath.

'If you question my ability to protect myself, you cannot dispute that the Lady Penelo is a veteran warrior of the Bahamut battle. I would trust her with my life implicitly.'

He said gravely, looking at Zaagabaath hard. Penelo thought she might have sprouted wings then and there and started floating she had been so filled with a sense of gratitude and pride that Larsa thought so highly of her.

Zaagabaath had looked defeated but he pushed on anyway. Penelo thought he was being silly; had Basch been here he would have just agreed to go with them to Balfonheim, but then Basch had been Ashe's protector and nobody told Ashe what she could and could not do.

Maybe today Larsa had decided he wouldn't be told what to do either? Penelo had wondered what that might mean for all sorts of things.

Larsa was watching Zaagabaath with narrowed eyes, 'You cannot stop me, Zaagabaath. That should make you feel somewhat better. Even if you try to prevent my leaving, I shall have the guards detail you at my leisure until I return.'

Penelo had gasped in shock and then covered her mouth with her hands to smother her giggles when she saw the look on Zaagabaath's face. She had never seen so much surprise on one person's face. His mouth actually dropped open.

Larsa nodded his head slowly, expression very grave. 'I think you have forgotten who is Emperor here. I am leaving for Balfonheim, Zaagabaath, and I am ordering you to assist in this endeavour.'

Looking grim, but with his mouth shut, Zaagabaath had given Larsa a formal Archardian style bow, clicked his heels and walked stiffly out of the study with a gruffly muttered:

'As you command my Emperor.' In response.

Once he was gone Penelo was left staring at Larsa in silence, her hands still covered her mouth because she had really badly wanted to giggle but was afraid that Larsa would be angry.

She needn't have worried; Larsa's mouth had twitched, he had frowned slightly and then he could not hold it in any more and Penelo had been delighted to watch Larsa collapse into hiccupping laughter that she soon joined in.

'I am sure I shall regret saying such shortly, but for now…' Larsa shook his head eyes shiny with laughter, almost without thinking he had took up and squeezed her hands.

'Penelo, I cannot express how long I have waited to say that!'

Penelo grinned, 'You were very Imperial like. Even Ashe couldn't have done better and you know how she is.'

They had laughed even more and it was lovely. To Penelo it had been kind of like being with Vaan, but much, much better.

Penelo, in the skiff sitting idle in Balfonheim Port, felt her lips curl up as she remembered, once more, Zaagabaath's face when Larsa had told him off. As if he knew what she was thinking, or maybe he too had been thinking about it, Larsa chuckled softly.

The sound in the small, dark skiff made her stomach tingle and her heart skip a beat.

'No, Penelo, I think this is the first decision I have made in months that I do not have doubts about. I do not want to go back to Archades….at least not yet.' Larsa had admitted quietly in a strange wistful tone.

Penelo looked at Larsa thoughtfully as he gazed sadly out of the dirty windshield glass and beyond. Her heart went out to him.

Larsa had become a prisoner in Archades since he became Emperor, usually allowed to go no further than the gentry controlled areas of the city and only then if accompanied by an armed guard.

It was sad because as clever and learned as Larsa was he wasn't the stay indoors, nose in a book sort. Larsa had an adventurous, curious spirit and it was, Penelo thought, a waste that Archades didn't let him out and about. Larsa would be able to do more good if he was let out of the Capital now and again.

She also thought that it would be good for Larsa. He was only seventeen, after all.

An idea came to Penelo; it was a game she and Vaan enjoyed playing. A game of make believe. 'Larsa, I have an idea.'

Larsa turned to face her slowly, the faint light from the crystal-lamps in the docking bay catching his hair and casting his face into shadow. 'Oh?'

'Yes. You need a new name.' Penelo smiled warming to the idea.

'A new name?' Larsa frowned.

Penelo nodded, shifting in her seat. 'Yes, your travelling incognito, so I can't call you Larsa. You have to be someone else, with a cover story and everything. Think of a name.'

She encouraged, twisting in the bucket seat so she didn't have to strain her neck to look at him.

Larsa smiled faintly, 'Very well…..Lamont.'

Penelo rolled her eyes, 'Oh, original.' She said and then remembered who she was talking to and blushed slightly, 'I mean…..'

Larsa was smiling, 'You mean that I have no imagination.' He shook his head, 'I suppose you are right, but I like the name and it has always brought me luck. I met you the day I devised that alias, after all.'

Penelo fidgeted in her seat a moment, 'Okay, you can keep the name Lamont. I guess it's a nice name.'

'Indeed, but which name do you prefer, Lamont or Larsa?' He looked almost serious as he asked that question except for the twinkle the dim light from the outside crystal-lamps brought to life in his eyes.

Penelo decided to ignore the question and focus instead on creating a new identity for Larsa. She had her pride after all. She wasn't going to go around blushing like a silly girl. She was supposed to be the older one.

'So you're Lamont but what do you do? And you can't say you're an emperor or a senator or anything like that, it has to be a normal trade.' She added, making up the rules of this game as they both sat in the near dark of the skiff.

'I see, and naturally, no one who engages in politics can be deemed normal.' Larsa sounded deeply amused, turned in his seat also so that he could face her.

Penelo sighed impatiently and ended speaking to Larsa in the same strained, but patient voice that she used with Vaan. 'Lamont is not a politician. This is supposed to be a chance to be what you're not Larsa, that's the whole point in having a secret identity.'

Larsa blinked, 'And I need a secret identity?'

Penelo began to fiddle with her seatbelt again avoiding the very open, bright eyed look Larsa was giving her.

'You do if you want to get out of the Palace every once in a while.' She pointed out, a little embarrassed and not sure why.

'Ah, yes. Good point.' Larsa sat still and thoughtful for a few seconds, 'Could I be some form of trader; perhaps a travelling salesman of some sort?'

'Star fruit!' The idea popped into Penelo's head unexpectedly and she grinned hugely.

'You are a travelling star fruit salesman. You bring Dalmasca's native fruit to people all over Ivalice.'

Larsa gave her a bemused and slightly sceptical look, 'And there is such a market for star fruit in Ivalice?'

Outside a group of Moogles floated by followed by a rather scarred and suspicious looking Seeq wearing a heavy, over-stocked tool-belt. The Seeq's metal heeled boots clanked heavily on the sheet metal walkway adjoining the docking bays and the vibrations ran up the thin hull of the skiff.

'Star fruit are very important fruit, Larsa. Trust me.' She said seriously. Wouldn't Vaan be pleased?

'I do.' Larsa said equally serious.

There was a moment's strange silence between them and in it Penelo realised that really they should have got off the skiff and gone to meet Al-Cid a good ten minutes ago.

It wasn't really proper (at least Penelo didn't think it was, though her understanding of Archadian proper-ness was less than complete) the two of them sitting alone in the dark together.

'Anyway,' Penelo said a little too loudly and a little too cheerfully, 'You are Lamont the travelling star fruit salesman and you're here in Balfonheim to…'

'To sell star fruit?' Larsa suggested with a smile.

'Yes,' Penelo nodded, 'and while you were selling your fruits by the beach I came along and you stopped me and asked if I wanted to buy some star fruit.'

Larsa looked both curious and amused, 'I am a somewhat presumptuous salesman, I take it. May I ask what you are doing in Balfonheim?'

'Larsa, you are a salesman. Of course you have to try and sell your fruit.' She pointed out simply, 'And it's not presumptuous because it just so happens that I was thinking how much I'd like a Star fruit and you appeared with a wheel-barrel full of them.'

Larsa raised a fist to his mouth and coughed politely, clearly trying not to laugh. 'A wheel-barrel? Do I not warrant a vendor's stall, or at the very least a cart?'

'You prefer to travel light. Don't nit-pick Larsa!' Penelo was beginning to think that Larsa and Vaan actually had something in common. They both asked silly questions at the worse times.

Larsa managed to look properly sorry and nodded his head almost as if bowing to her, 'Apologies. I am unfamiliar with secret identities, and I must confess, the intricacies of life as a small trader. What happens after I give you a star fruit?'

'Give me? No I buy one.' Penelo said firmly.

They were leaning forward in their seats and Larsa's suede leather clad knee brushed against her own boot covered knee as they sat together huddled like two people sharing secrets, which they sort of were.

Larsa shook his head firmly, 'Oh, no. I gave you a complimentary Star fruit. I am not such a rogue that I would try to sell a fruit plentiful in your native country to a lady such as yourself as if it was so great a bounty. I would be nothing more than a charlatan.'

Penelo thought about this and the very real fact that Larsa would make a lousy salesman with an attitude like that. In fact she told him as much.

'Well, kindness is a greater reward than material wealth.' Larsa said just vaguely affronted.

Penelo grinned, 'Only a rich person would say that.' She told him confidently, thinking about the unhappy fact that rich people were usually happy anyway. 'Only someone with lots of Gil would say Gil doesn't matter.'

'Well….' Larsa did not appear to know what to say to this. Then he seemed to remember where he was and what he was supposed to be doing.

'In any regards,' he said with the authority and command native to the Emperor of Archadia, 'I am not a star fruit salesman and we must meet with Al-Cid.'

'Right.' Penelo nodded, wondering if she had upset Larsa, but that didn't seem to be the case.

As they eased their way past labourers over-burdened with sack clothes filled with mysterious produce and the occasional well dressed wayfarer or buxom painted lady filling the aerodrome foyer, Larsa cast her a swift, amused look.

'A philanthropist. I shall be a philanthropist, not a fruit salesman. As you have stated that I don't have the necessary hard-nosed ruthlessness to make a success of a career in commerce.'

Penelo turned to him to say something in response and at that moment a large, greasy, somewhat bad-smelling man, ploughed into her before ricocheting off her into the wall of the aerodrome with a drunken groan. Penelo staggered into Larsa who caught her before she fell. She smiled at him nervously in thanks.

After that it was a matter of staying alert and keeping a hand near their weapon belts and Gil purses as they hurried along the dusk darkened main boardwalk towards the Whitecap Tavern. There was no time for idle talk.

Penelo and Larsa (or Lamont the travelling philanthropist and former unsuccessful fruit salesman) slipped around the back of the large, square, pale brick building sat upon the crescent stone panorama facing out towards the Naldoa Ocean, that housed the infamous Whitecap Tavern.

Reaching the worn, rotted wood door at the back of the tavern Penelo rapped on the door firmly in a quick and intricate rhythm; the secret pirate's knock. (It was funny that of the four veterals of the Bahamut who had ever been pirates Balthier refused to have anything to do with such a ridiculous custom and Fran seemed to share this view, while Vaan could never remember it and only Penelo actually used it.)

A moment later the viewing window opened and a pair of hard, suspicious eyes glared at them both. Penelo smiled brightly.

'Hey, Elza, how are you?'

She ended up talking to the scratched and warped wood of the door as the spy window had already been snapped closed. A moment later the door opened just wide enough to admit the pair of them.

Penelo had time to take in the small, beer stinking, storeroom filled with barrels and crates; a dim, dirt covered crystal light hung from the low, water stained, cracked ceiling and barely illuminated the shabby inside of the Whitecap's cellar.

'Larsa my friend, dis is an unexpected surprise, eh?'

Penelo turned towards the cheerful, heavily accented voice. She expected to see the same floppy haired man in his early thirties wearing the tight fitted trousers and the open shirt that she had first met in Mount Bur-Omisace five years ago.

What she saw instead shocked her to her core.

'Al-Cid, what has happened?'

Larsa moved swiftly towards his friend as the once proud and graceful Al-Cid limped into the room supported on the arm of one of the strange silent women who always followed him about and made Penelo nervous because they never seemed to blink.

Al-Cid looked like one huge, bloody bruise. His tanned skin was every shade of a painful rainbow; green, blue, black, purple, brownish-yellow. His head was bandaged, one eye was swollen and squeezed shut and one arm was in a sling.

Al-Cid still managed to smile and reach up with his good hand to tussle Larsa's hair (though Larsa was now as tall as Al-Cid) 'Eh? Pfft. Nothing my friend, dese are nothing.'

Larsa stepped back and, frowning slightly, took a moment to brush his hair from his eyes. ' Have you no healer or curatives with you? These wounds need to be treated, Al-Cid.'

'No, no, it is well. Let de wounds lie as dey are, my friend. I take my penance gladly as I be thankful for de life I still 'ave, eh?'

Al-Cid stepped back, wincing as he leaned heavily on his bad leg and the blue tunic wearing silent woman caught his arm and led Al-Cid to the rickety trellis table set up in the cellar.

Larsa, concerned for his welfare frowned at Al-Cid quizzically. 'Nonsense; there is no logic in refusing treatment when it is available. Penelo would you…?'

Penelo had already approached Al-Cid from the other side of the table her hands glowing faintly with the healing magick she had called to her.

'Wait.' Al-Cid held up a hand and looked keenly at Penelo, 'Tell me, how fare your mistress, my dear friend de Lady Ashe?'

Penelo blinked in surprise and cast a swift glance Larsa's way, puzzled. 'Um, she's well I guess. I think what happened to the cathedral has upset her but having Balthier back will help. Vaan says they've already cleared most of the wreckage, ready to rebuild.'

Penelo could not help feeling guilty that she had not gone home to Rabanastre to see for herself but told herself firmly that she was needed by Larsa; not to mention Jules and Gerty wouldn't let her go.

Al-Cid and the strange woman, who stood protectively close to him, shared a strange look the woman placed a supportive hand on his shoulder.

'And de baby? De Lady Ashe's child lives?'

Penelo nodded, 'Yes.'

A strange expression crossed Al-Cid's dark, handsome face. It was thoughtful, relieved but also slightly angry, or at least it seemed so to Penelo. Al-Cid nodded slowly.

'Den my penance is no longer needed.' He gestured with a smile for Penelo to come closer. 'I am grateful to yourself, my lady Penelo, for any help you can be giving me.'

Larsa moved towards the table and sat down across from Al-Cid, hands clasped together on the table top, pensively.

'Al-Cid this makes no sense; why should the Lady Ashe's welfare have any bearing on your decision to take healing or not?' Larsa asked keenly. He frowned. 'Who inflicted such grievous injury upon you, my friend?'

Al-Cid could not answer at first because Penelo had started her healing. Closing her eyes she ran her hand up and down the length of his body, her open palms hovering an inch above his skin, sensing for the worst of his injuries.

She worked on his head, then his torso, each blackened bruise caused by some form of blunt implement, or a fist, or a booted foot, throbbed under her palms like an angry, burning ache. Soon she had a headache just from this contact with his pain and wondered how Al-Cid could be so cheerful when he was suffering so.

It seemed to Penelo, who was an experienced white mage and had seen more than her fair share of injuries, that whoever did this to Al-Cid had not wanted to kill him; instead they wanted to cause as much pain as they could. This attack had been vicious.

Finally it was over and Penelo opened her eyes with a weary, but relieved, sigh that was echoed by Al-Cid himself. Restored to good health, Al-Cid smiled and kissed the back of both Penelo's hands with a flourish that made her blush.

'I am in your debt, my golden bloom, truly you be a gracious and goodly maiden.'

Penelo felt herself grow red to the roots of her hair and cast an almost embarrassed and guilty look Larsa's way. 'Um, that's okay, as long as you feel better.'

Al-Cid grinned and the word provocative popped into her head at the look on his face; heavy lidded dark eyes and lips curled into a slow, creeping smile. Penelo took a few quick side-steps over to the safety of Larsa's side.

'Al-Cid.' Larsa said seriously, 'I think it is for the best if you go to Dalmasca.'

Penelo looked to Larsa in surprise, but was then distracted, as they all were, as Fran slipped into the cellar from the doorway leading to the main rooms of the Whitecap. Penelo had thought Fran was in Dalmasca with Balthier.

She might have said something in greeting or question to Fran, pleased as she undoubtedly was, to see her. However Larsa was talking once more, his tone grave and very serious.

'The Lady Ashe and yourself have been targeted by this Kiltia Ascendancy, and after discussion with the Marquis Halim Ondore, who has gathered much information on the modus operandi of this fanatical group; we believe that the advantages of having you muster a resistance with Dalmascan backing outweigh the risks that putting you and the Lady Ashe together may incur.'

Al-Cid stiffened and the blue tunic woman gripped his shoulder all the more tightly. Fran folded her arms around herself in a strange gesture that wasn't very like her as she leaned against the wall silently. She did not look at anyone in the room.

To Penelo it seemed that the temperature in the room dropped suddenly. She shivered, not liking the sudden heaviness in the air.

'No. It is not wise that I go to Dalmasca; I 'ave no risk to cause de Lady Ashe further difficulty.' Al-Cid shook his head slowly, firmly.

'I intend to return to Rozzaria as soon as arrangements for transportation can be made. Dis is my battle. I shall be a man, eh, and fight it myself.'

'Al-Cid that is ridiculous.' Larsa argued.

'The Kiltia Ascendancy threaten us all. The only reason Archadia has not experienced anything worse than a few rural skirmishes is because the religion of Faram has never had great sway in the Empire, but in time, I'm sure that will change. We must unite to liberate Rozzaria and ensure Ivalice remains in peace.'

'De Lady Ashe is my friend, just as you be.' Al-Cid smiled but his eyes were hard and stubborn. 'I will not risk her when she is wit' de child. Too much de blood is on my hands already, eh?'

Larsa opened his mouth to argue, 'Halim Ondore believes that Ashe would be agreeable to such an alliance between her kingdom and yourself…'

'Al-Cid cannot go to Rabanastre.'

Fran's cool voice interrupted Larsa. Penelo watched, afraid though she couldn't quite say why, as Fran raised her ancient, red eyes to survey them all. To Penelo it seemed that Fran was uneasy and sad, which was so strange as to be frightening to Penelo.

'Fran why are you here?'

Penelo was surprised to hear her own voice and she wondered why she didn't finish her question: And why isn't Balthier here with you? Because even being married to Ashe and Fran spending so much time with Basch in Landis hadn't gotten in the way of the two pirates partnership and it was very….unsettling….for Fran to stay in Balfonheim with Al-Cid, of all people, and not go with Balthier to check on Ashe.

Fran looked Penelo straight in the eye, and it seemed to Penelo, who could read Fran pretty well, even if she did say so herself, that the Viera looked tired.

'Penance.' Fran said.

Penelo frowned, her heart thumping uncomfortably, 'What for?' she whispered. She felt Larsa lace is fingers through hers and she squeezed his hand. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Fran spoke carefully, 'It is right that one partner in a business should make amends for the transgressions of the other.'

Fran looked boldly to Al-Cid, but to Penelo, watching closely, it seemed that the flinching around Fran's eyes spoke of some sort of deep sadness…..or guilt.

'I shall depart for Landis now. The debts we two owe are paid.' Fran nodded to Al-Cid, to Penelo and to Larsa and turned to go.

Penelo's eyes darted from Larsa, who looked as confused and worried as she, to Al-Cid who looked as tight-lipped as his blue tunic wearing lady-friend, and then she finally broke away from Larsa's side to follow Fran.

'Fran wait!' Penelo caught up with the long-legged Viera as she left the Whitecap and headed towards the aerodrome.

Fran did not turn but she stopped walking. Penelo came level with the woman she viewed as both friend and mentor. 'Fran what's wrong? Why don't you want to go see Ashe and Balthier?'

'When he is ready he will ask for me. Until such time I shall keep my distance from Balthier.'

Fran started walking again, her long white hair whipping in the wind and her gait steady.

Penelo could only stand agog in the salty sea breeze rushing in from the surf, watching Fran's retreating back. What could have happened to make Fran say something like that?

A strange, dark and chilling suspicion crawled up Penelo's spine and entered her mind. The bruises and cuts on Al-Cid's body; Penelo could be wrong but she thought they looked very like they could have been caused by the butt of a rifle.

Penelo felt deeply strange and disloyal as the next logical step in her thoughts came to her; she resisted it. She tried to block it out. Balthier was family to her. Yet it made sense; the pieces fit. Or at least most of them did.

It just left one question; one burning question. A question Penelo was not sure she wanted to find out the answer to, as she lost sight of Fran in the crowds and turned back towards the Whitecap. Despite her misgivings Penelo could not help but pose that one dark and frightful question in her mind.

Why Balthier had tried to kill Al-Cid Margrace?