708 O.V. The Archades Imperial Gaol

Despite their vaulting reputation and the amiability of Penelo's smile and Vaan's seeming harmlessness (despite the fact that he was conspicuously armed) it still took a while for Vaan, Penelo, and the four students to finagle their way into the Imperial Archades gaol. Of course after they had managed to get into the cellblock finding Balthier was simplicity itself.

He was playing cards with the prison warden in the guards quarters – naturally.

'Bleedin' 'ell – are yer cheatin' mate?' One of the guards, Private Laudermilk, slapped down his bad hand in obvious pique and slumped back in his rickety wooden chair.

The object of his address, the prisoner Ffamran (Balthier) Mid Bunansa looked up from his own ever-increasing pile of gil coins to the private and arched an inquiring brow coolly. 'Naturally,' he averred. 'Is this a problem?' Then without a by-your-leave Bunansa's quick, be-ringed hand snatched up a bit more of Laundermilk's dwindling reserve of coin to add to his own.

'What the – yer can't just outright admit to cheatin'!' Laudermilk was not sure what bothered him more, that the arrogant toff had spent most of the evening robbing him blind and he hadn't noticed until now, or that he could be so brazen as to admit it. Helplessly Laudermilk turned to his superior officer for help and guidance.

'Can't take the heat get out t'bleedin' kitchen Milky,' Snapped the warden on night shift, Sergeant Smythe. The Sergeant, a savvy man, had already rumbled the prisoner's game and recognised it as a clever ploy of bribery. As he appeared to be the beneficiary of said sinecures and enticements Smythe saw no reason to do a damned thing about it. Everyone knew Bunansa would go scott-free of all charges in a day or two – sodding gentry politics – and Smythe figured he might as well make a profit out of the situation while he could.

'But sarge!' Laudermilk, alas, was not all that savvy to the subtle nuances of power, influence, and corruption that flavoured Archadia's rather idiosyncratic judicial system. He stared from the benignly smiling prisoner to his superior officer in bafflement. Scamming prisoners of their gil was one thing, but he was not in favour of being on the receiving end of a con. That was bang out of order, that was. To add insult to injury Bunansa, as cheery as you please, siphoned off some of his ill-gotten winnings and pushed the coins onto Smythe who accepted the gift with indifferent grace.

'Oi!' Laudermilk was a appalled. 'That's not right!' The private pushed out of his chair, thoroughly put out. 'Yer can't use me own gil to bribe the sarge!'

Bunansa stared at him, 'I think you will find that I can.' Bunansa fixed him with a steady look. 'I've already donated a few hundred gil to your colleagues on the day shift, consider this an act of reciprocity.'

Laudermilk had no idea what reciprocity was but there was one thing he was clear about, 'Yer goin' t'bleedin' pay fer that mate.' Balling his fists Laudermilk was further infuriated when Bunansa, rather than showing even a twitch of concern, glanced over at the sergeant and inquired in disinterested aside, 'I take it this oaf is new to the Judiciary, hmm?'

'Aye,' Smythe sighed as he carefully finished sorting his bribery won coin into his gil pouch, 'Six month secondment over from the Tollbooth.' Smythe rose slowly from his chair, managing to make the gesture much more imposing than Laudermilk's fidgeting antics. 'And likely to be back at Tollbooth before he knows what's what too.'

'What?' Laudermilk quivered where he stood. The Tollbooth was the worst assignment any Judiciary underling could receive. It was a torture of tedium; cold, draughty and excruciatingly dull. Laudermilk had been counting his lucky stars ever since he'd won secondment out of there.

Bunansa was shaking his head sadly. 'Ah, the Tollbooth; I remember that from my days in Judiciary.' The prisoner eyed Laudermilk with feigned sympathy. 'As I recall self-mutilation and immolation were fates less feared than Tollbooth duty.'

'Right yer are,' Smythe agreed as Laudermilk tried hard not to whimper where he stood. 'Shame to, Milky here's a bit on the simple side but he was learnin', bloody shame really.' Smythe rubbed his blunt fingers through the bristles of his close cropped beard and watched the green private with jaded eyes. Laudermilk broke down under the pressure with almost indecent haste.

'Please sarge! I ain't goin' t'say anyfink - just don't make go back t'Tollbooth.'

Still sat at the table Bunansa made a show of examining his cuffs, averting his eyes and looking downward so Laudermilk could not see his smirk. Smythe, who was used to breaking the will of innumerate minions under his command, remained impassive. 'Yer on thin ice boy – yer hear?'

Almost weak at the knees with relief Laudermilk was close to genuflecting at his sergeant's feet in gratitude. 'Thank yer Sarge; thank yer. I promise I ain't goin' to say nofink to no one about no bribes, or about letting prisoners move around the cells without shackles……or lettin' prisoners out of t'cells t' play cards or……'

Smythe cuffed him around the back of the head, 'Just keep yer damn gob shut boy, a-right?'

It was at this point, while Laudermilk bobbed in obeisance and Smythe stood, meaty fists resting upon stout hips in dubious benediction and Balthier watched the whole corrupt show with wry amusement that Vaan, Penelo, and the cohort of students entered the scene.

'Balthier we're here to……' Vaan stopped his words before they could be any more incriminating than his mere presence within the inner dungeons of Archades most infamous prison. He stood in the doorway looking a bit non-plussed and Penelo and the other four people with him promptly ran into the back of him, knocking him across the threshold of the room.

'Who the bloody 'ell are yer?' Smythe demanded, but without a great deal of ire. Truthfully Smythe wouldn't care if the whole gaol burned down around the magisters ears (so long as he wasn't on shift when it happened).

Balthier, for his part had planned for the contingency that someone might come for him here in the dungeons (hence all the bribes to induce the guards to further complacency) but was nevertheless a tad surprised to see Vaan and his sweet little compeer. He hadn't known the Rabanastrans were even in Archades to begin with. Of course, Balthier reasoned darkly, he should just stop being surprised by anything at all after all the peculiar twists of fate he had experienced.

'Ah Sergeant,' rising from his chair with easy grace despite his still tender wounds Balthier decided to make the best of the situation, 'These are the guests I've been expecting.'

Smythe eyed him and then the curved blade very obviously on display hanging from Vaan's belt. Smythe thought about the trouble he'd be in should anyone hear about all this. He thought about the high probability Bunansa was about to enact another one of those extraordinary prison breaks he was so bleeding famous for – and Smythe also thought about the pleasing weight of his gil pouch bulging heavily from his own belt. The prison warden sighed and came to a decision; after all it wasn't as though he even particularly liked this prison guard lark anyhow. Maybe he'd retire to some quiet village far from the capital and never have to see the inside of a gaol again – in any capacity.

'Guests, you say?' He asked mildly already knowing he didn't give a fig's arse for the answer.

'Hm, yes.' Bunansa's slight smile was the smirk of a man who didn't just expect to always get his own way – but knew absolutely that he would get his own way. Bunansa was just the sort of man to whom life gave way, instead of the other way around. 'It is the bane of popularity – one has to expect visitations even at such unseemly hours.'

Laudermilk continued to stare at them all in horrified awe and Smythe had just about had enough. 'A-right bollocks to it,' He pointed to the fair haired youth and his retinue. 'I ain't seen you, any o' you.' He glanced back at Bunansa. 'I ain't even seen you – bugger it, don't reckon I even remember if I seen me!'

(Insanity was in fact a legitimate defence plea in Archades, however as a defendant had to prove they were madder than the sodding judge condemning them it was not an oft used defence – Smythe would give it a shot, however, if it came to it.)

Bunansa inclined his head as graciously as any Emperor, 'That's the spirit, Sergeant.'

'Bah,' Smythe grabbed hold of the agog Laudermilk and barged past the six interlopers without further comment, leaving a very high profile prisoner alone with a group of unauthorised strangers, at least one of whom was clearly armed -and what was more, he didn't give a tinker's damn either.

That was just how justice worked in Archades.

******

Lanlet-Downe: Iona

The tranquil forest was still; watchful but also sanguine. 'You speak in riddles hume.' Fran, seated on her downed log sat quietly and regarded the agitated hume male pacing before her with implacable steadiness. 'You mourn Fantl yet in your voice I hear blame.' She frowned. 'You would lay some measure of blame at mine and Balthier's door, yet you and Fantl both are strangers to us.'

'You don't understand!' Ethain, gripping his wild dark hair at the roots, whined pitifully teeth bared in a pantomime of torment that would make even the most overwrought mummer blush with shame. Fran remained unmoved.

'This I have said.' She pointed out calmly. 'And yet explanation you still refuse to grant.'

For a moment Fran wondered if this trying Hume man-child would continue to rant and rave and gnash his teeth in a parody of grief until the sun fell behind the horizon and night condensed amid the forest paths. She also wondered if perhaps she had found a being irritating enough to try even her legendary patience in this Ethain. Balthier no doubt would be amused to hear of such a thing.

'Alright,' After a few moments Ethain let go of his head and spoke once again in more normal tones. 'Alright - it's like this. Fantl, she was so alive, right? So vital and good and she just wanted so badly to be just like you! The sodding legendary Fran – that's what she called you. Said you were everything a Viera should be; proud and strong and capable, and not afraid to stand away from the Wood.'

Fran sucked in a quick, but silent breath of surprise and almost involuntarily her hand crept towards the pendent strung around her neck. She wondered if it was possible for this hume to know how his words tore at her like jagged stones. It took all Fran was not to flinch away from him as he continued on with his confession.

'You got to understand, the Viera here, they weren't like Viera on the main land. Fantl didn't really have a clue what life was like off this bleedin' island,' Ethain shook his head sadly. 'She had it in her 'ead that every Viera exile was just like you – and that every bloke was a bleedin' Balthier!' Bitterness had crept back into Ethain's voice now and once again he began to rake his fingers through his tangled hair in mounting agitation. 'She was bleedin' bonkers she was; sweet as the day is long, but bless her heart, Fantl weren't the sharpest knife in the rack.'

Fran arched a brow, 'Indeed?'

Ethain had the grace to look chagrined for defaming the dead, yet he did not recant the statement. Flapping a hand vaguely towards Fran he stared fiercely out into the dappled shadows of one of the woodland paths. 'Aye but who is the bigger fool in the end, eh? Her for being a bit touched or me for……' He stopped abruptly, as if a guillotine blade had just sliced in twain his words.

Fran tilted her head. 'For what? I can smell your guilt hume, and know I do that you wish to unburden yourself of some secret shame. What did you do to Fantl that you would confess such anger to me here and now?'

Ethain turned to her, expression wretched and face wane. He opened his mouth, his true confession on the tip of his tongue – but his earlier procrastination had cost him, for it was not he who answered but another.

'He lied and in so doing destroyed my dearest Fantl.'

A Viera materialised at the mouth of one of the shaded forest paths as if wrought by arcane forces (or at least she did to Ethain – Fran had already heard the approach of soft Viera footfalls). This Viera was paler in complexion than Fran herself and her hair a few shades darker, touched with gold where Fran's was white as Kerwon frost. Fran instantly recognised in this unknown Viera the touch of wisdom and grave authority, much as her own sister Jote wore about herself like an invisible cloak. Rising from her perch on the downed log Fran stood, moving almost protectively closer to the daft hume Ethain.

Watching with quietly gentle eyes reflecting the steady peaceful presence of the forest spirit the Viera nodded to Fran. 'Greetings sister Fran once of Golmore now of……,' the Viera paused and smiled faintly. 'Now of Ivalice at large. I am L'Moi of the Lanlet Viera. I bid you welcome.'

In turn Fran nodded deeply, almost a bow, and spoke in the Viera tongue. 'Thank you sister L'Moi of Lanlet; as my ears are long I will honour the peace and tranquillity of your home and the sanctity of the Wood and Way.' Once she had delivered the proper greeting in turn Fran switched to the common hume tongue of Ivalice. 'My tidings are ill; I come to bear news of the passing of your sister and to tell you her body now feeds the green grass and the wild winds of Cerobi.' Fran could scent the real and aching sorrow hidden behind L'Moi's seeming serenity and hesitated momentary before speaking the last bitter truth, 'As does the flesh of her unborn babe.'

L'Moi shuddered all over, eyes closing in pain so much more sincere than all Ethain's loud and over-blown gestures of grief. 'The Wood had told me thus,' L'Moi whispered soft as a falling leaf. 'Yet I……' the Viera's ears twitched and she looked up to meet Fran's regard. 'Fantl was flesh of my flesh; child of my womb.'

'I am sorry.' Fran said knowing the words were no recompense at all. She watched the other Viera carefully however, sensing the hidden violence therein. 'My heart would weep for you sister L'Moi, but this is a pain that I know not.'

L'Moi nodded solemnly, 'We know of your trails, sister, and your blessings. You are a beacon to those of the Viera who have not yet forgotten how to speak as well as listen.'

Fran was startled by this praise, both sincere and perplexing and thus was not quick enough to act in time. Too slow she could but watch as the bereft Viera turned her reddish eyes upon Ethain and something hard and furious crept up upon her lovely face. 'You,' The Viera hissed. 'You are to blame; liar – deceiver! You killed my daughter!'

Ethain flinched back, almost cowering. 'No – I – it wasn't like that! I didn't mean……'

Then there were no more words for L'Moi had moved faster than thought to cross the clearing and wrap her long taloned hand around the hume's neck. L'Moi's other hand pulled back, claws poised to rip out Ethain's treacherous heart.

'I have waited for this moment hume,' L'Moi hissed in ice cold and feral sibilance, 'since the time you stole my daughter from me.'

******

Archades Imperial Gaol:

Alone and unsupervised in the guards break room Balthier relaxed idly back in his chair and laced his fingers together over his stomach, regarding the six people before him with mild interest.

'Vaan,' He nodded, 'Penelo.' He glanced at the foursome of students who had helped him escape Draklor after the partial collapse. Not particularly surprising considering his rotten memory for names (and tendency towards self-absorption) he realised at the last instant that he could not for the life of him remember a bleeding one of the little blighters' names, 'Ahem and……sundry others.'

At the crestfallen looks on the faces of the four students Balthier arched a brow. 'Well, well, one successful rescue and you presume I should remember your names, do you?'

'Master Balthier,' Nono's head poked up out of the flap in the backpack the tall, pale white and gold student wore on his back. A little wriggling later and the moogle was free to half leap and half flutter on stubby wings over to the table where he landed and looked up at his captain, master, and figure of unadulterated adoration with large and doleful liquid obsidian eyes. 'Master Balthier – you promised not to commit treason again!'

Balthier frowned testily, 'And I haven't.' Which was completely true; bribery yes, gambling in a government building – yes, contravening the code of conduct for prisoners – too bloody right he had, but he hadn't yet committed any infringement of the law that constituted treason, 'Yet.'

Looking away from Nono's chiding regard (and feeling obscurely like a naughty little boy caught with his hand in the confection jar) something occurred to Balthier after a moment. He frowned at Vaan and Penelo.

'By the by, what the bloody hell are you two doing in Archades?'

'Oh that's simple,' Penelo breezed across the room, pulling a potion bottle from her satchel. 'We were bringing the Strahl back to Draklor for her maintenance and……'

Balthier jerked as if someone had pinched him, 'You brought my bloody ship back to Draklor?' Mildly horrifying images of his beauty smothered in the rubble of the falling tower filled his mind. He glowered darkly. 'I presume my girl is still in good nick?' He said softly in tones that suggested strongly that any other answer but a resounding and reassuring yes would likely result in uncouth and considerable violence.

'Of course she is,' Penelo uncorked the potion bottle and plunked it down before him on the table. 'Are you alright? You look pale.' The girl then proceeded to try and take his temperature with a hand to his brow. Irritably Balthier caught the offending appendage and pushed it away. 'Do you mind? I don't believe I am so decrepit as to require the services of a nursemaid.'

'Not yet,' Vaan muttered somewhat darkly as he slouched into one of the empty chairs around the card table. 'You promised to try not to get killed for at least a year.' He added a bit put out. Balthier narrowed his eyes.

'Why is it that everyone feels the need to remind me of various promises made, hm?' He asked somewhat rhetorically. 'More to the point, considering that I am in fact banged up for treason, why would anyone presume that I have a word of faith to keep in the first place?'

Vaan shook his head stubbornly, 'That's what you always say when things like this happen.'

Above and beyond all the sundry and varied trials and tribulations of his existence there was one peculiarity that forever confounded and dumbfounded Balthier. Primarily the delusion held by all manner of foes and allies alike that he possessed any redeeming qualities of loyalty, honour, or decency. The gods only knew he had done nothing whatsoever to encourage such ridiculousness – quite the reverse in fact. Yet the truly frustrating part was, despite the fact that he wasn't going around telling people he should be trusted or relied upon, the bloody fools kept expecting him to behave in a trustworthy and reliable fashion anyway. It was all the more maddeningly annoying when people who actually knew him (such as the Dalmascans), and, what is more, knew him to be the deliberately selfish, obstinate and fickle man he was, persisted to hold him to a standard no sane person should expect of him.

It was all bloody unfair.

'Right,' Balthier bit out succinctly after a moment silent stewing over various injustices, 'Enough of this nonsense. I believe I asked you a question, hm? What are you lot doing here?'

'We came to help you.' Penelo said easily lowering herself into the other chair around the table and opening her arms so Nono could sit in her lap. 'We heard about the assassination attempt, and then your arrest, and thought you might need us, especially with Fran gone,' she frowned curiously at Balthier. 'Where is Fran? Someone told us she left the city before the quake.'

Balthier broke off his half-hearted battle of glares with his increasingly insubordinate subordinate and glanced at the golden haired girl. 'Conveniently enough she did.' He conceded. 'Viera business.'

'Viera business?' Suspicion did not sit well on Vaan's sunny features but he made a valiant effort all the same. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

Balthier arched a brow. If he didn't know better he might suspect Vaan had it in for him. Sullen and disagreeable was not an attitude Balthier intended to encourage in his alleged protégé and the brat was a trifle old for an adolescent rebellion.

'It means,' Balthier enunciated succinctly hoping that his tone indicated that he had had quite a day already and was not about to brook temper tantrums from uninvited guests, 'that Fran is away on business pertaining to the Viera. Really Vaan is the common tongue that hard for you to grasp?'

Losing interest in looking into Vaan's angry eyes (and having no desire to try and ascertain what the former sand urchin was upset about) Balthier dismissed the matter completely from his thoughts and regarded the group of students hovering near the door.

'Has consorting with the criminal element become the new fashionable pastime, or are you all so bereft of entertainment that you have decided to break into the Imperial gaol for a lark?'

'We're here to help you, Director.' The lone female of the group, the bright eyed one whom Balthier had stumbled upon atop Draklor under the rubble of most of the ceiling, stepped forward all a-quiver with earnestness. 'We're willing to commit treason if we have to.'

'Er…hang on a minute,' The blonde boy looked somewhat less willing to dare a future appointment with the final necktie and Balthier decided he might well be the brains of this foursome (which said precious little of merit for any of them). The small fat lad with the bouncy black curls scoffed derisively at his compeers but didn't immediately offer up either a word for or against the girl's sentiment. Balthier sighed.

'Marvellous,' pulling sharply on one of his cuffs and ignoring Penelo as she solicitously (and pointedly) pushed the potion bottle closer to him Balthier regarded his 'guests' with tired eyes. 'Had it not occurred to any of you that perhaps I have no desire for your help, hm?'

'You didn't want anyone to help you with the Phoenix either,' Vaan actually snapped, arms crossed defensively over his chest and cheeks hot with months of repressed anger, 'but you still needed it.'

Much like the crashing impact of a falling tower silence thundered down around the ears of the seven humes and one moogle in the room.

Balthier stopped fiddling with his cuff. Penelo froze in the process of petting Nono. The moogle himself abruptly stopped wallowing in the pleasure of said petting, and all eyes rooted upon Vaan. It was palpably evident that all was not well with the usually inanely good natured Rabanastran. The four students, as one, shuffled a few steps away from the table and closer to the only exit. Penelo bit her lip, praying that her partner knew what he was doing, even as she realised that hoping for such was incredibly foolish. Vaan meanwhile, both the epicentre and cause of the brewing storm, held Balthier's gaze with all his will and refused to back down in word or deed.

No one dared to breathe for a count of three pounding heartbeats.

Then Balthier's cold smile scythed across his face, baring teeth in a silent snarl. 'Pardon?' He asked with faux pleasantness. 'I don't believe I heard you correctly. Care to repeat that?' If words could cut Vaan would have been bleeding.

'You heard me,' the younger man said, stubborn challenge in every word. Huddled near the door, well aware that they were intruding upon a moment of great significance the nuances of which they could not hope to understand, the four students of the Cohort barely dared to blink as another, edged, silence caused the ambient temperature of the small stuffy guard room to drop noticeably.

Balthier stared at Vaan expressionless, his face hard as planed marble, heavy-lidded eyes growing as remote as the cloying mists of the feywood. He was suddenly and dangerously still, not so much as twitching a finger. Vaan stared back at him, equally still, equally unwavering. Penelo, caught in the crossfire, clutched Nono to her and tried not to draw any undue attention her way. Deep down she had known this had been coming for months. She'd known ever since Balthier had declared that anything to do with the Phoenix, and what had happened to him in Landis, completely off limits for further discussion. As far as Balthier was concerned the matter was in the past, and like the rest of his past, it was to be forever ignored.

As far as Vaan was concerned that just wasn't right; it wasn't even fair. Balthier had nearly died (had actually been mostly dead for three whole days). This wasn't like the Bahamut when he had merely pretended to be dead for a year. This time it had actually happened - and it had been by his own hand. That was the thing Vaan couldn't forgive. Balthier might die because someone proved to be clever enough, or more likely just lucky enough, to kill him and Vaan could accept that (though he would do his best to make sure it didn't happen) but the idea that Balthier had tried to kill himself, that made Vaan angry.

Reks had died and left Vaan alone in a world torn apart by war. Reks had died a slow, pitiful lingering death in silent agony and ignominy wasting away day by day - and all the while he had forced Vaan to watch, helplessly, as he did so. When his brother had died Vaan had truly thought no one (excepting Penelo who claimed an entirely separate part of his heart) would ever fill that void in him. Then he had met Balthier and Fran……and he had had a family again. Then, a little less than a year ago, he had almost lost it that family all over again.

The silence that had gathered like a smothering weight shattered when Balthier jerked into abrupt motion. He clicked his fingers, the sound as harsh as a rifle rapport.

'Out,' He barked at the four students before then turning to Penelo and Nono, 'That includes you two.' Turning back to Vaan Balthier's lips pursed into a single bloodless white line. 'I think Vaan has something he wants to say to me – and it does not require an audience.'

A/N: Angry, assertive Vaan! Who'd have thunk it? This chapter went a little off on a tangent (Angry Vaan will not be denied) but I promise I am building up to some patented Spikey44 doesn't-stand-up-to-close-scrutiny plot twists in upcoming chapters. ;)