*And it is, it is a glorious thing to be a pirate king…*

Alright, no more opera for today.

XXVIII.

The Draklor Laboratories spanned an enormous compound at the northern end of Archades, not too far from the royal palace. Heavy security surrounded many of the buildings—particularly those that housed dangerous chemicals and rare specimens—but the main lab, being comprised largely of offices and archives, remained open to the public, thus granting the intruders instant access. Though Balthier had no trouble picking the locks that bound the doors to the restricted areas, the only way to the upper levels was through the mechanical lifts that remained entirely code-operated. Staircases, of course, would automatically open in the event of a fire, but in times that did not warrant emergency, locked doors and armed guards assured that they went without use. However, nearing the lift, they found the surrounding halls strangely devoid of any activity—empty of scientists, technicians, assistants, and even guards. The group paused in the barren white hallway, tensely surveying their surroundings.

"It's too quiet," said Basch.

"Passing strange," Balthier agreed. "There are supposed to be guards here."

Vaan shrugged. "Maybe we're just lucky, huh?"

"Maybe you're just optimistic," quipped Balthier.

"There is definitely something not right about this place," said Fran.

"Agreed," Balthier replied, pushing open the door to the nearest staircase, "but there's no time for caution. Step to it. Cid's office is on the top level."

Like the first door, they found the one at the top of the stairwell—the one leading to the very floor to which they aspired—shaken from its metal-toothed grip, hanging loosely on its hinges with neither lock nor latch to hold it shut. The floor housed mainly offices, all of which appeared empty, but Balthier noted that the evacuation alarm did not sound, and each office held little evidence of occupation at all. Indeed, they all proved impeccably clean, though devoid of any evidence of inhabitants: no books filled the shelves, no documents covered the desks. He knew that Cid had grown wary of his peers—paranoid, even, that they might overhear his conversations with himself and have him deposed—but this seemed a touch overboard, even for the ever eccentric Cid.

Though no reason for it presented, the group moved tentatively through the bland corridors, never speaking above a whisper and always watching the doors and corners as they neared and passed them. When they at last reached Cid's office, they found it a mess of no simple measure, a well-used contrast to the vacant rooms nearby. Several piles of loose papers sat on the floor, scattered and left to rest in the absence of movement within the chamber. The density of the stillness overpowered the obvious disruption that had shaken throughout the office earlier, for the contents of the room lied in a frozen reflection of its former action, but not a trace of motion could be seen any longer. They entered cautiously, though none expected to meet any living opposition, but the safety they found did little to settle their nerves, for coming face-to-face with the infamous Doctor Cid would have proven less problematic than not knowing his whereabouts to begin with.

"What a dump," said Vaan, poking a flimsy stick model of some elemental structure and accidentally shattering it.

"He's had visitors…" Penelo noted.

"The type lacking manners, by the look of it," added Fran.

"Maybe the Resistance beat us to him," Vaan suggested, carefully inspecting a pile of books that had spilled from their shelf.

"Awfully bold of them," Basch commented.

They continued to speculate and investigate, Fran even venturing to take a few sniffs of the papers scattered across the floor, but Ashelia soon noticed that Balthier seemed preoccupied with his father's desk. She approached with feline tepidness, her feet taking soft, calculated steps toward him, and though he seemed to perceive her attention despite her hesitance, he kept his eyes focused on the lone leaf of paper that he had dared to touch—a crude map of some sort, as far as she could tell.

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head, studying the drawing with a great intensity. "Giruvegan…He said he found it six years ago, and ever since he got back, this…"

"Strange…" she agreed, halting at his side and gazing over the map. It appeared by no means professional grade, bearing no key or accurate measure of distance, but what seemed most eye-catching were the cloud-like lines that surrounded its edges, and the faint eyes drawn on the rough outline of the sky island labeled Giruvegan. The faded figure roused in her memories of the inscriptions she had seen on Raithwall's casket, though something far more shrouded seemed to hide behind this image.

"I didn't know it was an actual place," Balthier said distantly, equally chilled by the sight. But something else then caught his attention, and he looked up to one of the many great boards scattered about the office, studying the numbers scrawled across it. "…That can't be right."

"What?" Ashe asked.

He approached the board and took up the pen laid at its base, then tentatively copied down the original equation, making a few additions. "…What the hell?" he asked softly.

The princess stepped up to his side, her expression furrowed. "A mistake?"

"Are you kidding? The only mistake he's ever made is me."

"Bal." Both turned upon hearing Fran's call, and she met their questioning eyes with relieved confirmation. "Reddas has been here."

Balthier raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Really?"

"I could not confuse his scent in a hundred lifetimes."

"Hmmm…"

"Something we should know?" Basch asked.

"Certainly," said Balthier. "I'm just not sure what it is."

He stepped up to a blank patch of board with a bit more confidence, then, in the strong, elegant lettering that highly schooled Archadians were widely known for, began scribbling out what appeared to be a complex mathematical formula. The others gathered in slowly, unsure of what precisely they now witnessed, none having ever taken into account that the skypirate had been raised a noble and worked alongside scientists and mathematicians for much of his life. Finishing his father's equation, he stood back contemplatively, a light in his eyes like they'd never seen, an upset in his voice like they'd never heard.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said with a faint sigh.

"Havin' fun there?" Vaan mused.

"This is wrong," Balthier replied.

"What?" asked Fran.

"This." He gestured gracefully to the altered copy of the equation, explaining as best he could: "Manufactured magicite is powerless on its own. It has to be buried in mines and kept under pressure for centuries before it grows its energy, and even then, it's so unstable it usually changes its genes and mimics the stone around it. That's why we're still mining the natural stuff." Now he pointed to the string of tangled letters and numbers that he had written. "This is a genetic model of magicite—in numbers." And then he gestured to Cid's equation. "Over here is nethicite." Pointing out a small divergence in subtext numbers attributed to one of the element-signifying letters, he continued. "The only difference is right here. He didn't create nethicite, he just fused a single cell of it with artificial magicite. So he makes all the magicite he wants, then turns it into nethicite so it can absorb energy out of Mist."

"So?" Vaan asked.

"Magicite creates energy," Balthier answered. "We don't know how, but that's beside the point. He's using existing energy." He received nothing but blank stares in response, and suppressed a sigh as he went on with yet another explanation: "Look. One of the most basic scientific theories is that energy can't be created or destroyed, only transferred. So, assuming we've been right on that one since the dawn of the age of reason, magicite doesn't create energy—we've always considered it the exception, but that doesn't make much sense in the scheme of things. If it doesn't create it, it must be somehow absorbing it, which means that nethicite is nothing more than a catalyst. Mist comes out of the planet, and nethicite absorbs Mist. If magicite is doing the same without Mist, then it must be ditching the middleman and absorbing the Mist straight out of the planet itself. Now, maybe a few pieces of nethicite will be harmless, but by speeding it up with all of his little manufactured toys, he's disrupting the whole process and sucking the planet dry before it can transfer more energy."

They stared at him with empty eyes and confused expressions, and Penelo, blinking slowly, spoke for them all: "…He's a vampire?"

"Close enough," Balthier replied.

"So all this energy he's taking…" said Ashe, "is being used by Vayne?"

Balthier nodded. "Scary, isn't it? He's getting massive amounts of nethicite for a fraction of the cost of magicite. Spend the extra on more ships, charge them all up…we're pretty much screwed."

"An army more powerful than the world it dominates…" Ashe said quietly.

"You're not makin' any sense," said Vaan.

"Just trust me," Balthier sighed in return.

Suddenly a crash sounded down the hall, and frenzied shouts rang out, indiscernible amid the echoes, but clearly referring to some escaping threat.

"They found us," Penelo whimpered.

"Reddas, more like," added Fran. "We should lie low for now."

But Balthier smiled smugly, heading for the door and carefully opening it as the ruckus outside died down. "Better yet, we'll use their confusion."

His plan proved a smart one, though Basch did not appear at all eager to involve the princess in it. She, however, met his hesitance with her usual insistence, and before long the whole group had ventured out into the halls once more, following the violent racket at a fair enough distance that they went for the most part unnoticed.

Unfortunately, a trio of guards caught them rounding a corner, and the group had no choice but to dispatch them before they alerted others to their presence. The scuffle ended as quickly as it began, the guards finding themselves well outnumbered, but the group soon discovered that they would have inevitably met the same fate had they not discovered the intruders. As they proceeded through the white hallways and toward the stairwell, increasing numbers of dead guards presented, some flat on their faces against the cold floor, some slumped sullenly against the walls.

The trail led up the stairs to the roof, and the group paused at the final doorway, Basch once more reminding the princess that her life was too precious to risk so freely. Swallowing her disappointment, she allowed Balthier and Fran to bust through first, though, up on following, she found all danger directed not at her but at Cid, who, flanked by a pair of guards, neared an Atomos idling on the roof. A tall man of imposing build—Reddas, the princess and her cortege assumed—encroached on the slowly retreating group, his lone sword drawn in response to their three and his voice thundering even as he calmly attempted to reason with the scientist.

"You know deifacted nethicite brought down the Leviathan. How can you persist in this folly?"

Cid responded with a rather jovial laugh, and spoke with tone free of even the slightest unease. "Have you come here to stop me? Honestly, I allotted you more sense than that."

Balthier stepped into view then, near to Reddas' side, yet still a step behind him. "Consider your numbers, old man," he said plainly. "And bear in mind that the voices don't count."

"Ah, my favorite scrap of skyscum!" Cid exclaimed. "What brings you here?"

"Treasure—what else would a pirate want?"

Reddas glanced over his shoulder. "Just can't keep yourselves out of trouble, can you?"

"It's more an art than a vice," Fran replied, nearing his other side as the rest of the cortege followed with swords drawn.

Balthier ignored the exchange and took another step toward Cid. "Just hand over the Dusk Shard and we might kill you quickly."

"You've come all this way for that trinket? I thought you above this." He paused then, looking to his side with sharp attention, though his guards had edged forward and no one now stood at his side. "Hm?" And now he quickly turned his gaze to Ashe, who studied him incomprehensively. "Ahh…The princess of Dalmasca?" he scoffed. "She's not entirely without merit."

"Don't listen to him," Balthier warned quietly.

"Not very hospitable…" Cid went on to no one in particular.

Ashe shook her head in pity. "…You're out of your mind."

"You're the one carrying around a worthless rock," Cid shot back.

"Do not lend him your ears, My Lady," said Reddas. "He means to use you."

Cid rambled on, looking to his side as though some unseen being stood there, answering its silent inquiries. "Damn it, what do you want with her? She's useless."

"Shut up!" Balthier interrupted.

"We're not here to steal the Dusk Shard, but to destroy it," Ashe added. "You've seen what it's capable of. If you truly care for Archadia, you will do the right thing."

"Ah," Cid replied calmly. "Nothing like a bit of hypocrisy in the afternoon. You must think our country seeks power without regard for means or consequences."

"I know it."

"But just how far will you go for power, Princess? Are you really willing to let the nethicite consume you?"

"I mean what I say. I will destroy it."

"You mean it and you say it, but I'd love to see you do it."

She glanced briefly to Balthier, but he did not meet her gaze, his eyes focused intently on his father, his expression fraught with betrayal. She did not understand how a simple stone could make a man fall this far, but now that she saw it with her own eyes, she felt a surge of determination fill her—inspire her. She would not let her country down. She would not let Balthier down.

Returning her hardened gaze to Cid and setting her jaw staunchly, she quietly growled what Balthier could not: "Someone has to learn from your mistakes."

Her words had a far greater effect on him than she had anticipated, and after taking a brief moment to consider her with genuine concern, he smiled subtly and spoke in a tone that on some half-hidden level expressed pride in her resistance: "A worthy daughter of the Dynast King. You would do well to go to Giruvegan. You may receive a new stone for your trouble—if you can beat me to it, of course."

His offer distracted them from the guard behind him, who stealthily took from his pocket a piece of magicite and triggered it, launching a blinding array of lights at them. The fantastic explosion of color dimmed in a matter of seconds and soon condensed itself into nothingness, absorbed by the small chunk of artificial nethicite in Penelo's hand. Unfortunately, however, by the time the air cleared, Cid, the guards, and the Atomos had vanished, leaving the group on the lab's roof in a state of considerably confused disappointment. Penelo studied the stone calmly, noting its warmth and shimmer, and Balthier glared at the horizon before shaking his head in defeat.

"I hate it when he does that," he grumbled.

Vaan turned to his sister with a grin. "Aren't you glad I brought you along?"

Penelo responded with a groan, and a deep, eloquent voice sounded from behind them:

"Perhaps you think me remiss…" They turned to see Reddas approaching, a look of rather cordial skepticism on his face. "Princess Ashelia, I take it?"

"Yes," she said with a nod, extending her hand. "And you must be Reddas."

"The one and only," he replied, shaking it. "I wasn't expecting you for quite some time—though I must say I find it a pleasant surprise so far."

"I wasn't aware you were expecting me," she said sharply.

"Lamont told me to keep an eye out for you and one of the Rozarrian princes. He said it may be to my advantage."

"I see."

"So is it?"

She shifted her weight slightly, trying not to regard him as she so often did Balthier. "…I understand you pay Vayne handsomely for your independence."

"That I do," he confirmed with a bold grin.

"Then yes, I may be able to help you."

"Then by all means, allow me to escort you back to Balfonheim—the Strahl is no doubt docked there, yes?" He cast a mischievous glance on Balthier, who rolled his eyes in response.

"Clever and kind," said Ashe, following the Pirate King toward the nearby door that led them back down the stairwell. "Balthier didn't nearly do you justice."

"I'd expect no less of the old boy."

"Oh, God…" Balthier groaned.

They headed down the many staircases, ready to strike if they met opposition, though they found none in light of the recent rampage that had cleared the building. Balthier appeared rather embarrassed, avoiding Ashe and for once taking Fran's lead, but he did not seem distrusting of Reddas, and therefore none took his behavior too seriously.

"I wonder if you'd do us another favor on the way?" the princess went on.

"Gladly, if I'm able," said Reddas.

"We've been told you know a man named Zecht…"

"Damn it, Ashe…" Balthier muttered.

"Zecht?" Reddas replied thoughtfully. "The Judge who once guarded our new emperor?"

"Yes," she answered with a nod. "Could you take us to him? It's very important."

Reddas beamed at this, immediately disregarding the seriousness of her inquest with a bellowing reply and broad smile. "Ha! Take you to him? Certainly, Highness! He is at Nabudis—has been for the last two years. Going on three, I believe. Cold as stone and useful as a hawk without wings. You're free to ask whatever you wish of him, but don't expect any answers."

"Then he is dead?" she asked, more irritated than dejected. "But weren't you doing this for him?"

"You've spoken to Jules, eh? That piece of—your pardon." He shook his head and waved his hand in dismissal, continuing on with more sober a tone. "What I do here, I do to fulfill a promise I made to Zecht on his deathbed, nothing more."

"I see…"

Reddas continued on jovially, but Ashe soon grew aware of Balthier's eyes boring into her, meeting the gesture in an admittedly childish attempt to out glower him.

"What?" she asked in a hushed growl.

He hesitated, glaring at her with what almost looked to be pain in his eyes, and finally whispered, "You scare me sometimes."

Upon reaching the ground floor, they proceeded to the docking bay where Reddas' impressive airship awaited them. Fran noted that it was a Bhujerban model, and the Pirate King regaled them with the tale of how his previous ship had been lost in a great escape, and how he had subsequently stolen the new one and succeeded in outrunning his pursuers with it. He then apologized to Ashelia, assuring her that her uncle had no involvement in the debacle, but when he spoke of his intelligence preventing him from interfering with the intentions of a man so strict as Halim Ondore, he inadvertently implicated himself further.

"How should you know of his strictness?" the princess questioned. "From my experience, his reputation makes him seem too lenient."

Reddas withheld a sigh and smirked subtly. "…I suppose it is useless to lie to Your Highness?"

"And then some," Vaan added.

Ashe returned his smirk, and he began with a heavy tone: "The marquis came to me last week with a proposition. He had heard of my hatred of nethicite and asked if I might help him relieve the Empire of it."

"That is why you are here?" Ashe asked, mildly accusing.

"No, no, Highness," he replied quickly, "not in the least. I told him I would not help him bring such destruction upon Ivalice. But I have no doubt that he will seek out some other means of stealing the Dusk Shard, so I came to beat him to it—with every intention of destroying the nethicite once I get it, I assure you."

"You would really deny yourself such power?"

"I certainly would. When I say I do this for Zecht, I do not mean it as any slight matter. Cid told him the workings of the stone and Vayne ordered him to first steal it and then use it. He killed his own men—every last one of them. Now, granted, I fully believe that Vayne did not know how powerful the nethicite would be, but with this war what it has become, I am certain that Vayne or Emperor Margrace or even Marquis Ondore—if Your Majesty will forgive me—would scarcely hesitate to use nethicite against one another."

"Even knowing what it's capable of?" asked Ashe.

"That is the sentiment I found in your uncle," Reddas replied cautiously.

"Then the marquis—he is set on war?"

He leaned back in the pilot's seat and spoke with a slight sigh as he steered the ship away from the laboratory. "The time approaches when he must make his position vis-à-vis the Empire clear. When he helped you off the Leviathan, he spited the Judges full sore; he cannot sit in idleness and expect to avoid a reckoning. The marquis shares my distaste for war, yet if it comes to it, he will show no quarter."

"Don't worry, Princess," Penelo injected. "All we have to do is hold up our end of the deal, remember? There won't be any fighting."

Reddas laughed softly, flashing the girl a warm smile before turning his eyes back to the sky before him. "You must be Monty's little friend."

"Huh?"

"He's full of the same optimism. Let's hope it spreads."

"Optimism may be a great aid," said Ashe, "but it will not be able to prevent this war alone."

"Well…" Vaan speculated, "what if the Resistance can take it? You know, what if they win the fight?"

Balthier resisted rolling his eyes. "Now we've gone from optimism to flat-out foolishness."

"Just trying to help," Vaan defended with a shrug.

"As long the nethicite's in play," said Basch, "the marquis won't stand a chance. It's just what Vayne wants. He'll lure the Rozarrians and the Resistance to the field, then crush them both with the nethicite."

Now Balthier smirked, mustering what cockiness he could while in the presence of the Pirate King. "Lucky for us, Cid has the stone. We can follow him, smash the nethicite to pieces with Raithwall's sword, and relieve Vayne of his secret weapon."

"But Cid's going to Giruvegan," said Vaan.

"We have a map," Balthier answered. "Sort of."

"You really mean to follow that thing?" Ashe scoffed.

"He's survived worse ideas," added Fran.

"We're working with professionals, remember?" Vaan continued with a smile. "And we have to get the nethicite away from the Empire somehow. May as well just start, right? Even if we don't know where we're going, it's better than wasting time."

Ashe gave Vaan a subtle glare that weakly masked her agreement, and Reddas laughed once more.

"Fly first, ask questions later," he said to Balthier with a hint of pride. "The lad is more pirate than you are."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Balthier shot back.

The princess could not see herself made useless—perhaps, she thought, Vaan had been planning on that—and, folding her arms begrudgingly, she tried her best to lighten her expression. "I suppose no real decisions can be made until we know what we have to work with," she admitted. "We'll take our chances with Giruvegan and go from there."

"Willing to act so soon?" Reddas asked.

"You think I shouldn't?" she asked back.

"I hope you will not think it too bold of me to mention, but did you not lose your own husband to nethicite?"

Her eyes narrowed, their steely grey paling like a storm cloud. "Your point?"

"If Doctor Cid has spoken the truth," Reddas continued cautiously, "you may well be rewarded with another stone in Giruvegan…"

"I don't need a lecture."

With this, the princess strode quietly out of the cockpit, Basch following her with a weighty sigh, and Balthier turned to Reddas.

"She won't listen to me, either."

"Of course not," he replied with a grin. "She's not stupid."