Disclaimer: I own neither Final Fantasy XII nor its characters.
A/N: It has been a very long time since last I wrote one of these. My thanks to BlueTrillium who is such a wonderful and patient beta!
You always think that you will have the constant stream of willingness mixed with determination and then life steps in and foils even the best of intentions. I am certain that many of you are very disappointed with the lack of updating on this story. I cannot promise anything however, even though I wish I could promise the world to you all. Truly, if it wasn't for the heartfelt pleas and such kind reviews I would have stepped away from this and fan-fiction for good. I, too, want to see an end to this story, but at the same time I do not wish to rush through it just so there is an end. I have put a lot of time an effort into this and want it to be just as intriguing as ever. I hope only to not disappoint. Again, thank you so very much for your willingness to put up with such tardy behavior on my part. Enjoy!
Chapter Twenty-five
They had traveled for hours upon hours and she had no way of knowing where they were. She was not even sure if it truly had been hours, but it felt like it. Penelo glanced at the little sleeping girl across the way. She had finally fallen asleep again.
The terror Caliata must have felt upon waking made Penelo's heart constrict. She doubted the child had ever set a foot outside her palace home. There was little she could do to comfort the girl though because they were both bound and gagged apart from each other. Penelo could feel the ropes bite uncomfortably into her wrists and ankles. She hoped that Calia's ties were not as tight. Their captor seemed to be well versed on ensuring that neither could reach the other as they were also bound to a cable hold on the wall.
The strewn feathers on the ground made it clear that the man usually dealt in chocobo transport. Penelo had strong suspicions that there was nothing legal about that particular cargo either. Her blue eyes searched the area some more, but nothing could help them. She had no way to free her hands and no way to reach Calia.
She closed her eyes tightly to fight back the sting of tears. She wanted to believe that they would be rescued, but she also understood the severity of their situation. This man, whoever he was, was not a bounty hunter. Penelo had a sinking feeling that emerging from this alive was a very slim chance.
A rescue would have given her hope, but Balthier had once told her and Vaan that kidnapping royalty for ransom in Rozarria was pointless because the royal family didn't care. They could simply have more children, thus no one child was more important than another was. Her gaze fell back to the chestnut-haired child. If she were the girl's mother, she would have moved the heavens and hells to get her back.
She closed her eyes and sighed. Penelo knew that the chances of being rescued were even slimmer on her end. Vaan didn't know where she was. She didn't even know where she was. Balthier and Fran couldn't help her either. Their captor didn't leave a ransom note. As for Basch, Basch had a responsibility to Larsa and so help her, if he failed Larsa, well she didn't know what she would do.
A tiny whimper escaped the tiny frame curled up across the floor. It was all Penelo's fault that Calia might never see her family again. It was all Penelo's fault for tempting Basch to stray. It was all her fault that Balthier was angry with Basch. It was all her fault that Vaan would have to grieve for her too. Guilt was a terrible feeling and it just kept swirling around in her stomach.
Basch pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. He knew the name 'Heil.' He just could not remember how. He stood up and began to walk towards the aft of the ship once again.
"Sweet Ivalice man, sit down," Balthier said in a clipped tone. "I will not tolerate you and your clanking about another blasted minute."
Basch growled, but seated himself all the same. "What can you tell me of Heil?"
"He's the worst type of cutthroat to take to the skies," the sky-pirate spoke softly. "Anything to turn a profit and he'll even double-cross his employer if the price is right."
"I know the name but I cannot seem to place where," Basch admitted begrudgingly.
Balthier gave a dry chuckle. "It wouldn't surprise me if you had heard the name. Some years back he made the name for himself by dealing in chocobos."
Balthier paused and Basch waited for him to continue. When the sky-pirate remained silent, the judge magister prodded. "Chocobos?"
"Pedigree to be exact, from Gramis' personal stock. One of the first and only cases I ever had the displeasure of being a part of. The man somehow managed to not only avoid death, but prosecution as well. There was rumor among us lessers that he was given immunity because he was willing to be an emissary."
Basch's eyes widened. Now he remembered exactly where he knew the name from: Noah's personal journal. It had been a case that confounded his brother because the thief was caught red-handed and walked away without even a trial.
"He was not made an emissary," Basch said flatly.
"You remember him then, Judge Magister?" Vafara's soft voice questioned with a tinge of hope.
He looked to her and shook his head ruefully. "Nay, my lady, I merely read the case on him. It is where I remember the name from."
Vafara's hazel eyes narrowed. "You were head of the 9th at that time, were you not?"
Basch nodded hesitantly not liking where this conversation was now headed.
"It should have been your responsibility to collect the evidence against him in this matter. Though I profess I have little knowledge of how the bureau operates, I should think such a case would leave you wondering where you went wrong?" The Rozarrian girl's tone was accusing and shrewd.
Balthier chucked and pushed a button on the console before turning around in his seat. "Not merely another pretty face, are you princess?"
Vafara looked impassively at the brunette before responding. "No, I cannot afford to be. But I wonder, will you offer me the truth?"
He gave a vicious smirk. "Truth is a skewed perspective on an individual's observation. Why were you so willing to join us if you cannot trust us?"
"Because she does…"
Vafara turned her gaze back out the window and Balthier's eyes widened slightly. Basch sighed and closed his eyes.
"The bond that ties us all together," the sky-pirate said with a smirk.
"I have sent on a communication to him, but he will not be pleased." Fran's lilting voice interrupted his thoughts.
"You did make sure to tell him that it wasn't my fault this time round?" Balthier asked.
Fran raised a perfect eyebrow and Balthier's shoulders drooped. A red light began to flash on the control panel nearest Fran. Balthier turned to Basch.
"You get to deal with his temper tantrum this time."
The great and mighty emperor of Archadia sat at the desk positioned in the center of his drawing room. With elbows perched on the wood before him, his folded hands rested on his forehead while his thumbs massaged his temples. He stared at the paper beneath him in a combination of disgust and incredulity.
Senator Vasren was a careful man indeed. Almost too careful, by the accounts of this latest report, but there was still nothing that could tie him to Brusnile's accusations. There was little left that Larsa could have the man investigated for and it made the young man livid.
Brusnile was a traitor. There was no denying it. But to have both he and his daughter make such convincing claims against the same man, it was too much of a coincidence. Larsa could only hope to wait out Basch's return. Perhaps the Judge Magister could find something that the rest of the bureau was overlooking, that he himself could not find. They were due back tomorrow and Larsa knew he could stall the execution for at least another week if needed. He was emperor after all.
Heavy footsteps invaded Larsa's ears and he looked up from his desk. A lone guard bowed and proffered a folded parchment towards him. Larsa gave him a quizzical look as he received the parchment and dismissed him.
With careful hands, the young man unfolded the parchment and began to read. His steady grasp began to shake and soon his fingers were threatening to crumple the edges. The parchment dropped as the same hands cradled his face that shook back and forth slowly.
"No, sweet Faram, no," he whispered brokenly.