XXVII.

It had been quite a journey out of neutral lands and into Archadia. Balthier and Fran had managed to avoid or sneak through all but one Imperial checkpoint, and the Strahl had sustained a bit of damage to her right flank in the skirmish that ensued—not from enemy fire, but from crashing into an Atomos while fleeing in panic. The collision had sent the small craft spinning into the larger one that chased them, and while it created enough of a diversion to earn them a clean escape, Balthier had felt with full force the brunt of his passengers, who for no less than a whole day and a half had heckled him for his clumsy piloting.

Ashe had spent much of the two-day journey in the cabin with Vaan and Penelo, sharing memories of life in Dalmasca before the war. They told her of their parents and their brother, of times before they had worked for their own food and shelter, before they had known the meaning of oppression and degradation. She felt overpoweringly grateful for their presence during this tumultuous time in her life, for she had found in the past two years no greater inspiration to continue her fight than their hopeful eyes, their heartbreaking tales—their faithful encouragement. Now that the strength of her woes had begun to grow and the shadow of the Empire had begun to darken, she needed the motivation of her people more than ever.

Twinges of fear crept up on her occasionally: the thought of losing one of her companions haunted her—the thought of them losing their lives in order to preserve hers—and the terrifying prospect of being caught and killed herself loomed at every turn. Though perfectly willing to sacrifice her life for her country, she knew that to do so would rob Dalmasca of its last hope. Her own importance prevented her from fighting with the same abandon exerted by the others, and she hated it.

For now, however, her greatest fear proved rather trivial: she had counted on retrieving the Dusk Shard herself—she couldn't trust Balthier or Fran with it—but she now wondered whether she could make it through the city without attracting the interest of strangers. Though her "lovely little nose," as Balthier called it, had not broken under the weight of Bergan's blow, both of her eyes had blackened below the lashes for the first two days of the journey down the mountain. She had held snow to it as Basch advised, minimizing the swelling (and sparing her much taunting from the others), and the bruises had nearly healed, but their pale presence remained in the form of violet half-moons beneath her eyes and a red splotch across the bridge of her nose, giving her the look of one either quite sick or prone to tears. Though her cortege had grown bored with poking fun at her wound, she prayed it would not garner her any unwanted attention in Archades.

Thankfully, they did not intend to immediately enter Archades, for the Strahl could not hope to elude the memory of the means by which Balthier acquired it, and they would not risk alerting the security of the royal city's aerodome. They approached Archadia from its eastern coast, the nefarious port of Balfonheim proving the most welcoming entrance. However, the pirates that ran the port maintained their own security measures, and Balthier cringed inwardly as he hailed the dock manager with Ashelia leering over his shoulder. He earned immediate recognition—much to Fran's amusement—but the princess remained almost suspiciously silent throughout the exchange.

"Where the hell you been, boy!" a rowdy Archadian voice boomed through the commlink.

"Oh, you know," Balthier mused. "The end of the world and back—a few times, actually. Is Reddas about?"

"Afraid you just missed him. Got some big job goin' on."

"How big?"

"Big enough he didn't wanna share with any of us!"

A wave of unease passed over the group, but Balthier knew better than to ask too many questions. "Ah. Right," he said. "So are we clear to land or are you just going keep up the small talk all day?"

"Sorry, kid. Dock thirteen is all yours!"

"My lucky number."

Vaan and Penelo bubbled with excitement as the ship landed in yet another country they had yet to visit, but Balthier said at first little and eventually nothing, shutting the Strahl down and heading to the cabin without so much as looking at the others. Basch noted Ashe's concerned gaze and responded with a shrug when she turned it on him, but Fran discerned their suspicions and offered brief assurance:

"He gets quiet when he's nervous."

On the dock, they found Balthier speaking with the shabby (but nevertheless joyful) manager, obviously eager to get on with their business, though his fellow pirate allowed him no such relief.

"It's about bloody time you two came back," he boomed. "What happened to the Rabanastre job?"

Balthier resisted rolling his eyes, instead placing a fist on his hip and glancing over his shoulder to the others. "Let's just say it went decidedly downhill."

"Where is Reddas?" Fran asked, approaching the two pirates calmly.

"Couldn't tell even if I knew," the dock manager answered. "Said he's doin' a favor for some guy named Zecht."

"Zecht?" asked Balthier.

"Yeah. Law of Exchange, you know? Said he thought he was dead, but now all the sudden he's back and ol' Reddas is in debt."

"That can't be good."

He smiled. "Nothin's good these days. Everything we steal goes to Vayne, cocky bastard."

"Didn't I always say that arrangement was doomed for failure?"

"Didn't I always say you're full of chocobo feathers?"

Ashe surveyed the horizon, taking note of the noise of the nearby ruckus they would no doubt encounter further into Balfonheim. Balthier seemed to perceive her impatience, though he did not look at her.

"Look," he said, "we're kind of in a hurry. We need to get to Draklor without drawing too much attention. I was hoping we could hitch on the weekly tribute."

"Good luck," said the dock manager. "The last caravan of supplies left this morning. Since when are you so careful? Just bust on in!"

Balthier rolled his eyes openly this time, walking away with a smirk. "Thanks, Jules."

"Don't get killed, kid! This place is boring as hell without you!"

The others followed Balthier and Fran through the winding docks, fearful of the locals, but nevertheless pleased to have infiltrated enemy territory with such ease. Only Basch and the princess exhibited any distrust of the pirates, though Basch felt certain that his distrust—his suspicion that Balthier would interfere with Ashe's plans for the nethicite—would only benefit the group in the long run. Ashe would not be double-crossed again, however, and allowed herself only minimal restraint on account of Balthier's recent trust of her.

"How did Zecht die again?" she asked.

"Nethicite," he replied shortly.

"Do you think it would be possible to survive something like that?"

"I suppose anything is possible."

"What good is a weapon that kills its user?" she mused. "Perhaps Ghis used it the wrong way. Do you think Reddas would know?"

"I learned a long time ago not to question Reddas on what he knows," Balthier said flatly. "Don't ask him about Zecht. If we start sniffing around where he doesn't want us, he'll have us all taken care of faster than you can say pirate."

At that moment a trio of brawling drunkards crashed to the ground before them, drawing to their attention their present entrance into Balfonheim. Balthier groaned at the display, but Fran released one her mystifying smirks, wiggling her tail as she stepped carefully around the scuffle.

"It's good to be home?" she asked.

"Something like that," Balthier replied.

"The gods have a hand in everything," she added in Vieran.

They did not linger in the port, passing quickly to the road beyond that would lead them to the capital city of Archades, but the lively surroundings Balfonheim provided seemed a vast relief in comparison to their solitary travels so far. The merrily reckless pirates that frolicked in the streets proved a great form of entertainment, and the rowdy outbursts the travelers overheard from the many taverns gleaned more than a few giggles.

No one dared interfere with the group, though, for Fran and Balthier had earned considerable names for themselves—and for that the princess and her cortege felt exceedingly grateful. Vaan remembered Balthier's infamy within Archadia from his brief incarceration, and marveled at the power it now lent him. Though Vaan had always imagined freedom as the greatest attraction a life of piracy provided, a reputation, it seemed, made it worth the danger. A life without burdens or interruptions—Vaan had never known such an existence possible.

Balthier did not exactly seem happy with it, though—not now, at least—and appeared to slightly unwind as they left the raunchy port and took to the quiet trails in the countryside. Archadia lent itself well to foliage of all types, its temperate weather varied enough over the course of the seasons to coax a wide array of flowers and trees out of its land, and with them the countless creatures they attracted. The group met a slight delay when Penelo insisted on studying a strange bird that hovered near a blossoming bush, but she quickly got them all back on their way when a small lizard skittered across her path.

The conversation seemed to lighten considerably after this, but Balthier added only the occasional remark, focusing much of his energy, it seemed, on not appearing anxious. Soon, however, he had no need to try, for they all tensed up noticeably as they entered Archades. Balthier assured them that the back alley he led them through posed no danger, but their real concerned lied not in their entrance, but in their eventual escape—the city was well-guarded, and it seemed unlikely that they would leave it on good terms. Fortunately, the distracting splendor of the city slowly lessened their worry, and they found themselves more interested in their surroundings than the purpose of their visit.

The architecture conveyed the same refined beauty evident in the Archadian accent, and the cleanliness of the city lent it a distinctive air of affluence. Towering skyscrapers ornamented with rounded windows and finely scrolled balconies lined the main streets, seeming to raise gently on their shining shoulders a horizon laden with vast wealth and high culture. Their roofs adorned the clear sky, their windows alight with fluttering draperies and gleaming glass, sunlight gliding elegantly down their smooth lines and glowing behind their luminous silhouettes as though it rested there, at leisure along with the rest of the populace.

In spite of the lackadaisical luxury that radiated from the city, from the streets Archades seemed alight with the bustle expected of such a metropolis. The intruders found no difficulty in hiding themselves, for the citizens traveled in a tightly-packed stream into which the princess and her cortege easily burrowed. However, they did find themselves subject to a few intrigued gazes, and thus followed Balthier's lead with all due swiftness and perhaps a heavier collective expression than the situation warranted.

Fran did her best to ignore the stares she received, for while she had indeed grown quite used to them, with the princess at her side, she hoped to avoid such awe as she normally mustered in strangers. It proved impossible, but Ashe did not seem concerned with it, having considered the risk well before their arrival. For her part, Ashe behaved as normally as she could, mimicking the carriage and attitudes of those around her with surprising ease that she concluded she owed to her royal upbringing. Unfortunately, this simple camouflage did not aid Penelo, who nearly tiptoed when distracted by the many wonders of the city and crossed her arms protectively whenever she did catch herself acting like a foreigner. Vaan, too, drew unwanted glances with his excited expression and wide, ungainly steps, though he seemed aware of this and tried unsuccessfully and often rather comically to blend in.

Basch had substantial trouble as well, in spite of his many years serving royalty, but his difficulties spurred not from habit but from the deeply distracting thought of Gabranth living for ten years amid this culture. He found it nearly impossible to believe that his brother could ever fit in here, and this pervasive thought made him all the more conscious of the intimidating exclusivity that surrounded him: the coarse contrast of his rugged Landisian accent against the elegant Archadian, the solemnity of his war-hardened countenance against the carefree expressions of lighthearted civilians born into prosperity—every detail served only to reinforce his discomfort and more effectively make him feel like a hapless pony among thoroughbreds.

Balthier, on the other hand, fit in seamlessly, a reckless buck suddenly a regal stag now that he had returned to his home of so many years. He found nearly laughable irony in the realization that he had long before given up trying to assimilate to his native culture—to meet the expectations of Archadian society—only to suddenly find himself the most well-adapted of the group. However, he did lament the position in which he now stood, for although he did not condone Archadia's actions as of late, he still loved his country, having forsworn its impractical standards not because of any disdain for them, but because he did not feel them worth the sacrificing of the inner deviations that made him affable in his own mind. Some part of him rejoiced in coming home—although a larger part still trembled in fear.

"Wow, Balthier," Penelo said with a small smile of wonderment. "You fit right in."

"Unfortunately," he replied. "Though the rest of you may have some trouble outsmarting the city watch."

"We'll do what we can to blend into the crowd," Ashe said somewhat bitterly. "Our names may be notorious, but our faces are not far-known."

"True," Vaan added with a smirk. "You're our princess, and we didn't even recognize you."

"I noticed."

"I still say you should have stayed behind," Balthier growled.

"I still say it's not going to happen," she shot back.

"If our goal is to blend in," Fran injected, "perhaps I should have stayed behind."

Penelo assured Fran of her beauty and the supposed fact that anyone who found it problematic would do so as a result of their own problems, not hers, and while the others found her cheery injections gleefully uplifting, Basch once again found himself staring at her a bit too intensely. Thankfully, she still did not notice, but he worried that he had begun to make too comforting a habit out of this, though he hesitated slightly upon deeming it on any level a source of comfort. Gazing at one girl while thinking of another reminded him only of past misery, and while he had at one point believed that his wound had somewhat healed, he now felt certain that it cut as deeply as ever, and he had merely numbed himself to the sting.

In truth, it pained him most to suppose that she didn't just look like her, but possibly like her. He had always joked with his wife that he wanted a son, and she returned the jest by insisting that they would first have a daughter, but never had he stopped to clearly imagine what any child of theirs might look like—in truth, he had never allowed himself such thoughts, for he knew they could lead to no good. But Penelo—if ever there lived a decent example of the possibilities, it was her. He wanted to cry.

"…You think too hard," Vaan noted.

Basch clenched his eyes shut briefly and shook his head. "I'm sorry…Your sister—reminds me of someone."

Looking out to Penelo with tepid suspicion, Vaan nodded slowly, trying not to let his protective instincts take over. "…Right."

"Relax," Basch added, catching on quickly. "I could more easily be her father."

Penelo turned to them, noting the lag in their steps that separated them from the others, and flapped her hand eagerly to beckon them forward. "Keep up, you guys!"

They finally turned off the main street, finding a little more breathing room as they broke from the great horde to a lesser crowd. Balthier still stared forward, eyes on the horizon, but Penelo seemed oblivious, too fascinated by the glimmer of the great city around her.

"Don't think we won't leave you behind," she warned as Vaan and Basch rejoined the cortege.

"With babysitters like these," Ashelia added, "who needs the Empire?"

"Aw, come on," Vaan replied. "We're not gonna let anything happen to you!"

"Not on accident, at least," said Basch.

"He means that, you know," Fran continued.

"This is just like Rabanastre," Vaan explained. "With so many people around, if anything bad happens, you won't be alone."

"I never thought of it that way," said Ashe.

"I never thought I'd come this far away from home," Vaan added.

Penelo giggled. "Much less that it would all be the same in the long run."

"…Hey, this is where Monty lives, isn't it?" Vaan asked somewhat hesitantly.

"I guess so…" Penelo answered. "Hard to imagine him in a place like this."

"Ah, he's a tough little guy. I bet he loves it here."

"I don't know…"

Now Vaan laughed, more to brighten Penelo's mood that to voice his own amusement. "Come on. Try imaging little Balthier running around here. If he survived it, Monty won't have a problem."

"Being an only child," Balthier injected, "I think I had something of an advantage over Monty."

"He's not gonna take Vayne's throne," Penelo shot back. "He doesn't even want to!"

"He'll have to," Balthier countered. "There's no way around it."

Seeing the confused futility on his sister's face, Vaan stepped in, briefly casting a glare on Balthier before he spoke. "Even if he has to, it'll be alright. Monty will be a good emperor."

"Monty gets what he wants," Balthier said dryly. "And you're going to put him on the throne."

"Optimism," Ashe chided.

"We're going to need a hell of a lot more than optimism," he replied, stopping at a corner and folding his arms.

"What?" Ashe asked.

He nodded upward to the many towering buildings before them. "We're here."