The Archadian Imperial Palace; Grand Conference Room

A/N: hello everyone, here is one last chapter before Christmas!

This time the special mention goes to Panzer718 who read through six chapters in one go while bouncing up and down on her sofa and reviewed every one…..thanks!

P.S: little warning for some violence that might ….possibly…upset some people. So read on if you dare.

Al-Cid sat before them on one side of the huge sandalwood table, his birds arrayed behind his chair, his sunglasses in place.

'Officially I can tell you nothing.'

He said in heavily accented standard Ivalic tongue; as he tossed his head to knock the thick straggles of black hair from his eyes. Balthier could not stand the rolling, imprecise diction of the Rozzarian accent. It put his teeth on edge.

There was a shifting of cloth on fabric as the other occupants of the room, reacted to that single careful statement. Ashe sitting flanked on either side by Vaan and Penelo cut a sharp eyed to look his way.

Balthier quirked an eyebrow and then turned back to Al-Cid, 'And unofficially?'

He enquired dryly. Technically he had the least right to speak of anyone else in the room; he had no official rank in the Archadian government and was not a recognised representative of any country. However he had never let such trifles as diplomatic etiquette stop him in the past.

Al-Cid Margrace spread his hands in a gesture designed to demonstrate an innocence of intent and spoke as a representative of his country.

'De House Margrace has no quarrel wit' de Lord Larsa.'

Al-Cid hesitated and nodded respectfully to Larsa who sat on Balthier's right side and had seemed content to let either Ashe, Basch or Balthier himself do most of the talking. Larsa smiled slightly and nodded in turn.

'I do not doubt your friendship, Al-Cid.' He assured his unlikely ally warmly.

Al-Cid nodded, 'I stand as your friend, most true.'

'Yes, don't we all.' Balthier murmured under his breath and Fran, sitting on his left, shifted minutely in silent warning to him to behave.

'I am sure that there has been a misunderstanding of some kind.' Larsa was saying.

'House Margrace has been a friend to me since my coronation. I know that House Margrace, much as House Solidor, now stands a friend and proponent for peace in Ivalice.'

Balthier, who had had exactly six hours sleep in forty-eight hours, could feel his patience with the delicate artfulness of the purple prose slipping from the lips of the various heads of state gathered here to discuss a relatively straight forward charge, waning rapidly.

Balthier had spent over a week tearing Bhujerba apart (metaphorically and in some cases literally) gathering incontrovertible hard evidence that Rozzaria had been secretly funnelling large amounts of Gil into Joaquin Ondore's private coffers as well as into the Bhujerban treasury.

He was impatient to get to the meat of the issue so that he could retire to a well earned rest and wash his hands of the whole sordid affair (at least for the next twelve or so hours.)

Interrupting the verbal beating around the bush that he had stopped listening to Balthier cleared his throat and spoke up.

'And what about Joaquin Ondore? Does the House Margrace stand his friend as well?'

'Balthier.'

Basch growled at him from across Larsa and he could almost feel Ashe's eyes boring into him with disapproval. Balthier blithely ignored him and kept his own gaze focused on Al-Cid and his 'birds'.

He had found that watching the Arch-Duke's 'birds' was more informative than watching the courtly trained Margrace himself.

One of the identically dressed 'birds' in the centre of the threesome Al-Cid had bought with him twitched noticeably (at least the movement was noticeable to Balthier who had become something of an expert at reading body language after years of partnership with the undemonstrative Fran.)

Al-Cid shook his head slowly once more, raising a hand to sweep his hair from his face. 'I 'ave never met de younger Ondore.'

Balthier felt a less than pleasant smirk curl his lips, 'Perhaps one of your many siblings has, however?'

He was contravening not just the laws of address to ones supposed social superiors but most rules of polite conversation as well. He didn't care.

He had had to shove his arm, up to the elbow, into the pipe works of the Ondore estates internal plumbing system in search of the hidden incriminating evidence Joaquin had not had the time to dispose of properly.

After those horrors and worse feats that did not bear remembering, even Balthier's manners were strained beyond breaking point, and it didn't help that, for though no discernable reason other than personal prejudice, he truly loathed Al-Cid Margrace.

'House Margrace does not support terrorists.' Al-Cid replied obliquely.

Balthier smirked, 'Good for you.' He replied blandly.

From further down the table Ashe cleared her throat sharply, clearly annoyed.

'Al-Cid, as representative of Dalmasca and Bhujerba in the absence of either my uncle or cousin, I wish to assure you that neither you nor any member of the Margrace Household stand accuse of any crime.'

'Indeed not.'

Larsa nodded emphatically casting a surprised and vaguely censorious look over to Balthier; who tired, irritable and convinced as the others weren't that Rozzaria was involved in the conspiracy against Larsa, merely slouched back in his chair, and curled his lip.

'We have evidence that Margrace Gil paid for the contract on Larsa's life.' Balthier snapped.

Diplomacy be damned, he had not wasted seven months of his life to sit here and be patronised by a foppish dandy.

Al-Cid was not the only one who twitched at Balthier's flat and unapologetic statement. Larsa, Vaan and Penelo, who had never really seen Balthier truly irritated, were surprised by his show of belligerence.

Ashe, who had seen Balthier when he was in a foul mood and inclined to share it, could not believe he was behaving so childishly in front of the future Emperor of Rozzaria.

Basch found himself growing suspicious. He did not trust Balthier's intentions and was half convinced his uncharacteristic display of ire was a ploy of some sort, though admittedly, he did not know to what ends.

Fran had not only seen Balthier in a full sulk but, once, memorably, in a towering rage wherein she had had to restrain him from entering into physical violence. Therefore she was the least surprised by his less than amiable behaviour.

Al-Cid, who knew more than he was saying, simply sighed as he conceded the inevitability of divulging his family's dirty laundry before the sky pirate did it for him.

'I would see dis evidence.' He said calmly.

Balthier smirked triumphantly, having caught the flicker of resignation in the man's features and the almost imperceptible ripple of discomfort that ran through the three birds standing silent sentry at his back.

Basch pushed the file of papers retrieved from all manner of unpleasant and difficult to reach places in Bhujerba across the sandalwood table top to Al-Cid, shooting a veiled, but highly disapproving, look to Balthier.

Al-Cid flicked through the papers, written agreements for the transfer of secret loans to either the Bhujerban treasury or Joaquin Ondore's private funds. Balthier saw him stop on one particular piece of parchment and knew exactly which one it was.

Balthier smirked slightly more widely as he remembered how he had happened to discover the loan agreement signed by both Joaquin Ondore and, more delightfully, Alem Al-Farouk Margrace, one of Al-Cid's illegitimate younger brothers.

It had been well hidden and he would not have thought to look inside the mattress on Ondore's bed had he and Ashe not been…..testing the springs of said mattress when he became distracted by the unmistakable crinkling sound of paper.

Ashe had been less than impressed when, instead of returning to the original activity they had been engaged in; Balthier had retrieved a small dagger from his discarded belt and gone about slicing the mattress to pieces.

'Dis does not prove dat Alem, my brother, knew of de attempt on de Lord Larsa's life.' Al-Cid pointed out, addressing Balthier directly.

'No. It doesn't.' Balthier accepted calmly. 'But nor does it prove categorically that he didn't know that the Gil he so generously loaned Ondore would be put to such a use.'

'Al-Cid.' Larsa interjected. 'As the Lady Ashe has stated this is not an interrogation, nor is it an inquisition.' Larsa glanced reproachfully at Balthier before continuing.

' But you must understand that such a document, found within Joaquin Ondore's personal affects, under circumstances such as these, raise questions that we must have answers for.'

Al-Cid steepled his fingers in front of his lips, elbows on the table top and thick brows drawn down over his eyes,

'Alem is not my friend. He opposes my father's decision to name me successor. You my friend, Larsa,' Al-Cid reasoned out loud, 'are seen as supporting my bid to succeed my father. Dat you and I are allies strengthens my claim, if you were to be no longer de Emperor of Arcahdia….'

Al-Cid trailed off with a provocative raising of his eyebrows and a languid flick of his wrist as again he swept his hair from his brow.

'Dere are many among de Rozzarian war pavilion dat do not share my enthusiasm for peace. Dey see my actions t'ree year ago in aid of de Lady Ashe,' Al-Cid nodded politely to Ashe, who smiled faintly in return. Balthier, seeing this exchange, frowned slightly, 'as a sign of weakness, neh. Dis could be a conspiracy to weaken me by attackin' de Lord Larsa, my friend.'

He nodded to Larsa and then let his eyes sweep across the rest of the people gathered on the other side of the table. Balthier, unimpressed with this interpretation and having his own ideas of what was really going on, straightened up in his chair and stared at the Arch-Duke's shaded eyes.

'Or it may be that Ondore had his own reasons for wanting Larsa dead and your brother Alem simply saw a band wagon to jump on.' He mocked.

Al-Cid was nodding, 'Alem is vicious, like de rabid fiend, but he is, how you say, lazy. It is his way to see others do his work for him.'

Balthier, sensing the opportunity to drive home his point, glanced from one end of the table to the other before speaking again.

'Perhaps, your lord grace,' He drawled with mocking insincerity, 'your brother had a different objective in mind when he made himself Bhujerba's unofficial banker?'

He let the insinuation hang in the air.

If Al-Cid was as innocent in regards the actions of his brother and political enemy's actions as he claimed he would not have an answer for such a vague question. If Al-Cid was not so naively unaware of what his family had been doing in Bhujerba, then he would have little choice but to address the real meat of the issue.

Al-Cid pulled off his sunglasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing long fingers over closed eyelids as he spoke once more.

'Peace is not natural to many in my family. Dey do not understan' it, eh. Many in de government saw Bhujerba as a stalkin' 'orse, as you say; de perfect front in which to build up an ally against future aggression from Archadia.'

'By propping up Bhujerba's failing economy?'

Balthier made it a question, though he knew the answer; had, in fact, suspected the truth for some time, since the first inkling had come his way that Bhujerba may be behind the threat to Larsa.

Balthier had played the loan shark more than once himself, in his former career as sky pirate and gentleman criminal; he knew how the game was played.

When he saw only suspicious, wary looks from the others around the table, and Al-Cid seemed to have no inclination to speak up, Balthier deigned to explain.

'Rozzaria's fifth column forced Halim into open revolt against Vayne in the Bahamut battle and in doing so lost Bhujerba her reputation for neutrality. Many Archadian traders stopped dealing with Bhujerba after that; they believed the city state to be in the pocket of the Margrace's.'

Balthier smirked an inclined his head ironically to Al-Cid, 'No offence.'

'None taken.' Al-Cid demurred with no little irony, before taking up the narrative himself.

'Bhujerba's decades long neutrality, how you say, backfired? Wit'out allies she was forced to turn to Rozzaria, to my brother, who saw de opportunity to gain control of de purveema an' it's magicite wit'out de need for military invasion.'

Al-Cid admitted and in doing so conceded he knew more of the situation than he had at first suggested.

'I swear to you my friend,' He looked to Larsa, 'I knew nothing of this until after Joaquin fled Bhujerba.'

Larsa merely nodded but remained silent. On the other side of the table Ashe looked stiff with anger, towards whom, Balthier would rather not know at that moment. No doubt she would take it out on him after this meeting concluded.

'And Joaquin Ondore, being a rather impressively foolish man, by all accounts,'

Balthier paused to nod to Ashe, who had referenced her cousin's lack of native wit more than once, before resuming his speech, 'and no doubt encouraged by Alem Al-Farouk, concocted the notion that Bhujerba's poor fortunes were all Larsa's fault and would be miraculously resolved by having Lord Larsa assassinated.'

Balthier shook his head with grim amusement. 'Though the mind boggles as to how he would think killing the Archadian Emperor would make the blindest bit of difference to his country's, or his personal, fortunes.'

'Perhaps, it is a shadow of the war that motivated such feelings?' Larsa suggested sadly. 'He would not be alone in such feelings against House Solidor.'

'The sins of your forebears do not, and should not, reflect upon you, Lord Larsa.' Basch spoke up in defence of Larsa's plummeting confidence.

'Regardless of any real or imagined fault,'

Ashe said from her place further down the table, 'my cousin's actions are reprehensible and completely unjustifiable. I am ashamed to claim shared blood with him.'

Balthier sighed irritably, 'We can argue over the nature and extent of Joaquin Ondore's culpability when we know where he is.' He pointed out impatiently, looking sharply to Al-Cid.

'I 'ave no good news to bring you, I fear.' Al-Cid shook his head ruefully.

'On discoverin' de nature of my brothers actions and dat Joaquin Ondore had come to Rozzaria I sought out de traitor and my brother.'

Al-Cid sighed deeply, and swiped his hair from his brow yet again with an impatient hand.

'My brother now sits in de palace dungeon for his part in dis conspiracy. Alas, de former Marquis, I regret it much, escaped and I know not to where.'

It was Ashe who broke the ensuing silence that followed that dire news. 'Then my cousin could be anywhere?'

Basch turned to Larsa, 'Your Lordship it is possible Ondore may try once more to take your life. Desperate men with nothing left to lose are dangerous indeed. You must further delay your coming of age celebration and retire to a safe location away from the Capital.'

' No.' Larsa said with shocking finality and just the tiniest hint of childish petulance.

Al-Cid spoke up, 'I must agree wit' de Judge Magister, my friend. I 'ave my troops searchin' de hills of Ambervale for de fugitive but alas, I fear he left Rozzaria almost as soon as he arrived.'

Larsa shook his head, 'No. It is better to lure this man out, by offering him a prime target, so that we may end this once and for all. I will not postpone my celebration and that is my final word on the matter.'

He added darkly when Basch opened his mouth to argue. Then the young Emperor rose to his feet and walked around the table to shake hands with Al-Cid, who rose from his chair also and ruffled the small boy's hair, much to Larsa's annoyance.

'I must leave to report back our words to my father, but I shall return for your celebration tonight, my friend.'

Larsa nodded firmly, 'Please do. Regardless of the actions of your brother I still consider the Margrace family as my allies.'

Al-Cid nodded and bowed curtly to Larsa before circling the table to take Ashe's hand before laying a decorous kiss upon her signet ring.

'My lovely desert bloom, 'ave you received de grain you newly requested from Rozzaria?'

Ashe smiled faintly and nodded her head politely, 'My Secretary of State informed me that the grain to Dalmasca has been received, your lord grace. I thank you.'

Al-Cid waved a hand in limp-wristed dismissal, 'Consider it an apology to you for our earlier reticence, eh?'

Balthier watching this exchange intently resisting the temptation to roll his eyes and instead folded his arms across his chest, a frown puckering his brow.

Ashe had, with canny and somewhat ruthless enthusiasm, seized upon her new status as acting Marquise of Bhujerba to push a fair trade of grain for her starving country on Rozzaria with Bhujerban magicite as the currency.

Of course it would not take long for her people to eat their way through this emergency shipment, but for the moment at least, the food crisis had been abated. Thus Ashe was free to represent Dalmasca at Larsa's coming of age celebration and at these proceedings.

Al-Cid and his entourage having finally left, with Basch and Larsa escorting the Arch-Duke to the private docking bay where his airship waited, Balthier took a moment to rub at his temples.

He was tired and he had a headache and all he was truly thinking about was a great deal of sleep.

'You are in unusually combative spirit today.'

Fran murmured as she watched, bemusedly, Ashe leave the room without a word to Balthier, Penelo and Vaan trailing behind her.

'You have angered Ashe.' She added as an afterthought, 'Basch also.'

Balthier lifted his face from the cradle of his hands and smirked humourlessly, 'Basch is never happy with me Fran and no doubt Ashe will get over it shortly.'

Lethargically he hauled himself up from the table and stretched his arms over his head, rolling his neck on his shoulders to ease out the kinks gathered from sitting down too long.

'I am going to bed.' He announced decisively.

Fran quirked an eyebrow at him ironically, 'It is daylight still.'

'Yes, and tonight we shall be guarding the Lord Larsa against homicidal Marquis' instead of partaking of the festivities, or more pertinently, sleeping.' He pointed coolly.

Fran walked with him out of the conference room but parted ways with Balthier as he made his way to the Judiciary building where he was quartered and Fran went to attend to whatever business kept her occupied of late.

Upon entering the quieter parts of the Judiciary building leading to the new annex where his rooms were located, Balthier noted that there were noticeably fewer people and Judiciary guards on watch than he was used to seeing, but wrote this off as people slipping away to prepare for the evenings excitement.

Too tired to be at his most vigilant Balthier entered his suite without more than a cursory look around the main room before crossing to the bedroom. He was working on the back strings of his plain black leather vest when the hackles rose on the back of his neck.

It was only years of instinct developed and honed in the vocation of sky piracy that saved him at all as he threw himself to the side and as someone, previously hidden behind the door to the bathroom, lunged at his back.

To Balthier's great detriment, however, he was not quite fast enough and the impact of something, long and sharp and metallic, puncturing his lower back and driving through his body, slicing internal organs on its route, to burst free between his ribs, staggered him and knocked him forward towards the bed.

Balthier's instinctive reaction to the realisation that he was not alone had saved him from instant death via the piercing of his heart, only to reward him with a slower, infinitely more painful, death.

As he grabbed for the bed post to steady himself, vision greying out, a man of middling height and build caught hold of him and hissed venomously in his ear.

'Bad luck Bhadra. You should have stayed a dirty smuggler and pirate. I had no quarrel with you and your ilk until you interfered.'

Balthier did not scream as the man slowly withdrew the sword from inside his body, but could not keep his feet and slumped to the floor, onto his knees, dragging the bed sheets with him.

He managed to turn his head, as fire and ice cascaded through his veins and his thundering, labouring heart's beat pounded in his ears; with failing vision he looked upon the man who had impaled him.

'Marquis Joaquin Ondore I presume?'

Balthier croaked sardonically before painfully coughing blood. His right lung, clipped and pierced by the wicked rapier in the Bhujerban's hand, collapsed and filled with blood, which spilled thickly down Balthier's chin in a wet rush.

Grey and white dots ate at his vision as he struggled to stay upright on shaking forearms and refused to let his eyes leave the wild and blood shot gaze of Joaquin Ondore.

All this time spent looking for the renegade Marquis and he was lurking in Balthier's own bathroom all along; Balthier would have laughed had he not been choking on his own blood.

'All this time and I thought it was Larsa and the Empire that was the evil to be rooted out so that Bhujerba may prosper.'

He only faintly heard Ondore's voice that seemed alike a rushing wave of muffled sound receding like the crashing ocean surf, as his arms gave way and he slumped onto his side; hacking and coughing onto the carpeting.

'But I have been watching. Oh, yes Bhadra, I have been watching my cousin and you these days in my estate. I saw my cousin, greedy little Ashelia, take over my country and use my magicite to feed her people. How dare she? How dare she think she has the right to rule my country?'

Ondore, dressed in the brownish leathers of a labourer and looking less than well-groomed, almost foamed at the mouth in his fervour, pacing the floor before Balthier, who clung to his life by sheer force of will.

'Then I see the virtuous and just Queen Ashelia rutting like a whore with a sky pirate. Ha! But I did laugh until she said she would make you!…..You another piece of Archadian scum, her Consort. That's when I knew who my real enemy was.'

Balthier, who was breathing shallowly through his nose and trying not to vomit up any more blood, hands pressed to the oozing exit wound in his upper chest, struggled to focus on the madman when Ondore crouched beside his head and caught up Balthier's short hair to jerk his head up.

'Oh no, Bhadra, you don't die yet. You must live a little longer so that my cousin can be made to suffer!'

Joaquin Ondore doused Balthier's wounds with a potion to seal the entry and exit wounds but this did little for the more serious internal injuries.

'You are going to wish you had never been born, Archadian scum, when I am through with you; do not worry though, Bhadra, for your suffering will be as nothing to what awaits my cousin Ashelia.'

Joaquin Ondore's maniacally grinning face was the last thing Balthier saw as he almost gratefully descended into dark and empty oblivion.

A/N: Aaaahahahahah! And more evil laughter as I wish you all a happy, healthy and felicitous Christmas!