This is a long chapter. A really long chapter. Sorry about that. My brother kept telling it was way too long, but I just couldn't find a proper place for a chapter break. This takes place between Parts One and Two, introducing certain elements and setting the stage for Part Two.
Anyways, even though it might take you forever to read it, I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Eleven

Nalbina Fortress. How did I end up back here?
Year 704 of the Old Valendian Calendar

Balthier clenched his teeth in annoyance, running through in his mind every way he might possibly extricate himself from this perilous situation. Heavy handcuffs held his hands together, and an armed guard walked on either side of him. It was flattering the Archadian government thought such measures necessary to stop him from escaping, but also frustrating. Balthier could easily pick the lock on the cuffs, but fighting off two Archadian knights with swords when he himself had no weapon would be a different matter.
The guards led him down another flight of stairs, deeper into the fortress. Balthier had heard the Archadians sealed off the lower half of the fortress turning it into a dungeon; the place was already known for its horrid conditions. However, it didn't seem that was where they were taking him. This place had cells along the walls, far more structured than the infamous Nalbina Dungeons.
It had been two months since the war ended and Balthier had taken Strahl and left the army. The Archadian government had immediately placed a hefty bounty on his head; apparently, his desertion combined with the theft of a unique, incredibly valuable airship hadn't sat well with them. Balthier had been on the run since then, doing odd mercenary-type jobs, hunting monsters and the like. He'd been surprised how much he enjoyed it. And he'd gotten to see the rest of Ivalice outside of Archades, just like he'd always wanted. This freedom was bought at the great price of everything Ffamran had ever been, but Balthier tried not to dwell on that fact.
In those two months, pursuit by the Archadian knights and headhunters alike had kept Balthier and Strahl on their toes. Luckily, Strahl was fast enough to outrun any aerial pursuers, so Balthier only really had to watch himself on the ground. Balthier knew he was a wanted man and had done his best to stay out of large cities, but today he'd ducked into Rabanastre, Dalmasca's capital, to restock. He thought it had been long enough since the Battle of Nalbina that he could show his face in public again.
And he'd been wrong. A group of Archadian knights stationed in the conquered nation's capital had spotted him and jumped on the chance to capture such a highly valued prisoner. He'd put up a fight but didn't stand much chance alone against four knights. They'd dragged him onto a transport craft, and while in the aerodrome, Balthier had managed to reach Strahl. She said that some soldiers had come in and were preparing to fly her to Nalbina Fortress, where their plan was to keep her until someone from YPA could be contacted. One thing Balthier was glad of in this whole situation was that he was also at Nalbina. At least Strahl would be ready and waiting when he escaped.
Balthier diverted his attention to the cells he and his escort were passing. The doors were thick and solid, each with only one small, barred window near the top. Most of them were empty, but a few held prisoners. None of these captives looked thin and worn, as one might imagine prisoners held in such rough cells for extended periods of time. Balthier deducted that this was merely a holding center, and he'd soon be shipped off to Archades for a nice public execution.
But war was months ago, and surely the spectacle of publicly executing a deserter would have far less sentiment now. Why hadn't the knights just killed him already? It puzzled Balthier greatly, but he wasn't complaining. As long as he was alive, he'd have a chance to escape.
"Which cell do we put him in?" one of the two guards asked.
The other one shrugged. "I don't think it really matters. The captain just said something deep down, so it'd be harder for him to get out."
"They think he's going to escape?" Guard One said with a scoff.
"Oh, you never know," Balthier interjected into the conversation. "I might be more slippery than I look."
"Quiet!" Guard Two said, smacking him over the head. Balthier kept his mouth shut this time, holding back the variety of sharp-tongued comments racing through his head. When he wasn't handcuffed and had a chance of fighting these guys off, that was when he could scold them for such insults.
"Put him over there," Guard Two said to the first, nodding towards a nearby cell. "With that thing bound for Draklor."
That caught Balthier's attention. What bound for Draklor Laboratories would need to be kept in these holding cells?
Guard One shrugged, then produced a ring of keys from his pockets. He fiddled with the door for a moment, and it swung open. There was a figure crouching in the shadows, but Balthier didn't have a clear enough view to make it out. Guard Two pushed Balthier through the doorway into the dark, dank cell, then exited through the same door.
"We'll be keeping watch outside," Guard Two called back, "so don't even think of trying anything!"
Then the door swung shut with a large clang, and the cell was plunged into darkness, save the sliced square of light falling through the barred window. The other person crouched in the corner hadn't moved at all. She didn't even raise her head when Balthier entered.
Squinting through the dark, Balthier could see her better now. She was a Viera, he could tell. Though he'd never seen a real one, Balthier recognized her as one of the secretive wood dwellers. Long rabbit ears, white with black tips, rose out of her flowing silver hair. The heavy, blockish cuff characteristic of Archadian jail cells bound her wrists and ankles. She knelt near the wall, staring listlessly at the ground.
Now Balthier understood what the guard had meant about something bound for Draklor. The Viera were known for having a deep and peculiar connection to the myst, the lifeblood of Ivalice from which all magic and energy sprung. A creature with such abilities would be quite useful in the study of myst and magicite. The Viera, however, were as intelligent as any human, and the thought that Draklor was falling so low as to use members of the high races in their research made Balthier sick.
Ignore the Viera's languid silence, Balthier worked on reaching the lock picks he'd stashed up his sleeves. Yes, he kept lock picks with him, just in case. Balthier was a wanted man now, and he wanted to be prepared for any situation. After a few minutes, he finally managed to get them to slide down to his hands. Quite pleased with himself, Balthier started the work of picking the locks on his cuffs. It took a lot of dexterity to reach the lock between his wrists, but it was nothing he couldn't handle.
Balthier turned his mind to what he would do after he got his handcuffs off. The guards were still outside, and then there was the matter of getting the door open. After that, a long and perilous journey out of the imperial controlled Nalbina Fortress awaited. And then, of course, there was the matter of Balthier's silent Viera companion. He had his own welfare to worry about, but he didn't like the thought of leaving her to whatever experiments his father had planned.
A plan slowly began to form itself in Balthier's mind, but he'd need a little help. This in mind, he decided to strike up a conversation with his silent cell mate.
"You feel like getting out of here?"
For a few seconds, the Viera made no response, then she raised her head. Cool brown eyes stared back at Balthier from an emotionless face. She studied him for a few long moments, and it was all Balthier could do not to show his discomfort under her sharp, searching stare. She looked only about twenty, but those eyes held the experience of many more years. They said Viera lived a great deal longer than humans, and from what Balthier could see, they were right. Finally, the Viera spoke, her voice quiet and heavy with a foreign accent.
"You have a plan?"
"If you're willing to help," Balthier said. The Viera looked back at the ground for a few moments before answering.
"What must I do?"
"First, hold still while I get your cuffs off." Balthier shed his own now unlocked handcuffs and held up his lock picks. The Viera's face showed not a trace of surprise, or any other emotion, for that matter. Balthier ignored this disappointingly taciturn response and walked over to her side of the cell, crouching down next to her. The Viera held out her bound hands, and he set to work on the cuffs. It was much easier to pick the locks on someone else's hands than his own, and Balthier made short work of her bindings. Once she was uncuffed, the Viera climbed warily to her feet. She was as tall as Balthier was, not counting the rabbit ears. She still watched him suspiciously, but Balthier ignored this unfriendly behavior. Instead, he held out his hand for a handshake.
"I'm Balthier."
After a few awkward moments, the Viera shook his hand.
"I am Fran."
"A pleasure to meet you," Balthier said. "Now, tell me, Fran; are you any good at acting?"

…

Fran's acting skills were quite adequate for Balthier's plan. In one corner, she lay, crying out like she was dying. Hopefully, the guards would come in to see what the commotion was about, and that would be their chance to escape. Only so far, they hadn't taken the bait.
"Guards!" Balthier called out, hoping to add to Fran's charade. "Can I have a hand here? Something's wrong with her!"
Balthier adjusted his handcuffs, trying to keep the unlocked bindings from sliding off. If the guards saw that he'd gotten his cuffs off, then they would surely realize this was a trap. After a few moments, the door flew open. The two guards came trudging in, looking none too happy.
"You go see what's up with it," Guard Two said to his companion, pointing over to where Fran lay thrashing in the corner. She really was putting up a good show; if he hadn't known she was pretending, she could have even fooled Balthier. Guard One knelt next to Fran, and Guard Two planted himself in the doorway, glaring at Balthier.
"Don't you even think about making a break for it," he said.
"The thought never crossed my mind," Balthier replied.
Suddenly, Guard One let out a shout as a kick sent him stumbling backward with surprising force. Guard Two rushed forward, but Balthier caught his leg with his foot and sent him crashing into the stunned Guard One. Guard Two hit his head on the wall on the way down, and the two of them tumbled to the ground in an unconscious heap.
"Nice work, Fran," Balthier said, letting his handcuffs drop. Fran rose slowly to her feet, stepping over the slumped forms of their guards. Her face was still as stony and emotionless as ever. She didn't say anything.
"What do you say we find some fresh air?" Balthier said, nodding towards the door.
Fran nodded slowly. "Yes," was all she said. Balthier let out a sigh, figuring he wasn't going to get any more out of her.
"Then let's get moving."

Outside the cell, there weren't any guards, at least not so far as Balthier could see. The hallway led past small empty cells, up a flight of stairs and out of view. Balthier was about to lay out his escape plan when Fran started off down the corridor.
"Fran!" he called after her, and she stopped and looked back.
"Yes?" she said.
Balthier let out a sigh. "I was thinking we'd try and stick together. Many hands make light work and all that. We stand a better chance of seeing daylight again if we work together."
Fran pondered for a moment, then nodded.
"What is your plan?" she asked at last.
"We head up and out," Balthier replied. "They've got my airship in the aerodrome, and if we can make it there, she'll be able to get us out of here."
"There will be guards at the aerodrome," Fran said.
"It'll be easier than getting out the front door," Balthier said. "This is a fortress, remember. Exits are few and far between."
Fran nodded. "True. Now, those guards will wake soon. We should leave now." With that, she continued her walked down the corridor and up the stairs. Balthier let out a sigh, then set off after her. He caught up with Fran at the top of the stairs, where she was fiddling with lock on a heavy door blocking their path.
"Why not let me take care of that?" Balthier said. Fran glanced back at him, and he held up the ring of keys he'd taken from their guard. After a few moments, she reluctantly stepped back. It only took a few tries for Balthier to finds the right key, then they carried on.
As they continued down the pathways in the belly of Nalbina Fortress, Balthier got the feeling Fran wasn't used to working with others. He wasn't either, really. This made their collaboration rather challenging, but Balthier still believed it would be easier to escape together than on their own. After two more flights of stairs, the hallway opened into a wider hallway, two more doors along the opposite side. Two Archadian soldiers patrolled the hall's length. Upon seeing them, Balthier, who had emerged first, quickly stepped back into the doorway, nearly crashing into Fran.
"What is it?" Fran asked, her voice holding the barest hint of frustration. Balthier was almost relieved to hear some semblance of emotion from her, albeit negative.
"Guards," he hissed back. "We've entered the fortress's central complex. There'll be a lot more knights from here on out, so we'd best tread lightly, hmm?"
Fran nodded slowly, then peered past Balthier at their situation.
"How shall we get past these?" she asked. "I see no way around."
"We just need to be patient," Balthier replied. "Let's wait and see if they move on."
After a few moments, Fran nodded reluctantly. So they waited.
"Heard they brought in some important prisoner this morning," one of the guards said to the other, stopping his pacing. The other also halted.
"Yeah, I heard that, too," the second guard replied. "I bet whoever brought him in got a nice pat on the back."
"No kidding," the first guard scoffed. "Meanwhile we never get thanked for guarding the fortress. You'd think keeping those prisoners in jail would be just as important as getting them there."
The two guards were now completely locked in conversation, oblivious to the two prisoners now attempting an escape. Seeing this as their best opportunity, Balthier scanned the hallway. To his right and past the guards, it turned to the right, and to his left, it ran up to a T-intersection with another passage. The out-juttings of various pillars along the walls provided plenty of hiding places in case the guards turned around and actually started doing their jobs. Balthier was just about to make the dash out when he remembered his Viera companion.
"Fran," he whispered to her. "We move now. Hide behind those pillars if they turn around. And do remember to be stealthy, alright?"
Fran nodded, then tensed to run. The guards had drifted a little farther down the passageway, and now was as good a time as any. Balthier dashed out from the doorway, followed by Fran, ducking behind a pillar on the other side of the passageway, a little closer to the T-intersection. There was another door on this wall, slightly ajar.
"Wait, what was that?" one of the guards said. Balthier couldn't see them from his position, but he could hear their voices, and the clink of their armor as they turned around.
"Come on, let's take a look," the other guard replied. Their heavy footsteps came in Balthier and Fran's direction. Balthier made a quick motion to Fran, then edged towards the other door. There may be more guards behind it, but it was the only way out. Time was of the essence, as the guards would soon be close enough to see around the pillar. Balthier quickly slipped through the exit, and Fran followed. As soon as they were both inside, Balthier silent pulled the door closed.
"Close one," he breathed out, still trying to be quiet. He turned away from the door, taking in their surroundings. This room was small, one dim lantern hanging from the ceiling. An assortment of weapons and other small belongings lay on crates and up against the walls. Fran was already crouched near one wall, examining a bow and some arrows. This was the fortress's stash of prisoner's confiscated belongings.
"Ah! What luck," Balthier said, scanning the assortment of items for his own weapon. After a few moments, he spotted it: a long rifle, propped up against the wall atop a crate.
Balthier's injured arm from the Battle of Nalbina had never healed quite properly. Yes, it was fine enough for everyday tasks, but when it came to swinging a sword, that wound made it impossible. Back in his days at Draklor, Balthier had had much experience with guns of all sorts and had become quite skilled in their use. This rifle was one he'd custom-designed in the months since the battle, useful not only as a firearm, but long and strong enough to use as pole in close combat, as well as light enough for him to wield easily. It was a very efficient weapon, and had served him well, but it never quite reached the majestic feeling of a sword's weight and power.
Banishing nostalgic wishes for a mightier weapon, Balthier picked up his rifle, examining it and making sure it was still loaded. Once he was satisfied with his weapon's condition, he turned back to Fran. She was in the process of slipping a quiver of arrows over her head. Her tall rabbit ears caught momentarily in the strap, but she managed to settle the load of ammunition across her back. In one hand she held a long bow of dark wood, archaic letters etched along its length.
"That yours?" Balthier asked, nodding towards her bow. Fran simply nodded in response. Then she glanced back over at the door. One white ear twitched.
"They guards have moved on," she said. "We should leave now."
Balthier nodded. "Alright then. Let's move."

Outside, the passage was indeed clear as Fran had predicted. They made their way to the T-intersection, and Balthier examined both passages intently. The one to the right continued on a ways, then turned right, while the one to the right disappeared down a staircase. They didn't want to go back down, so Balthier decided the righthand hallway was their best bet.
"I'm thinking we should head-"
"This way." Fran sharply cut him off. She started down the lefthand passage, the opposite of where Balthier was about to say.
"Fran! Wait!" Balthier let out a sigh as she continued on towards the downward stairway. After a few moments, she stopped and looked back. "We want to head up and out, right?" Balthier continued, trying to remain calm. "This way leads deeper into the fortress."
"The myst flows this way, seeking open skies," Fran said, turned back towards the stairway. "There must be some way for it to escape. If it can, so can we."
With that, she disappeared down the stairway. Balthier let out a long sigh. He could just leave her and go on down the logical pathway, but what if Fran was right? Balthier had no personal experience with the Viera's powers of the myst, and no idea if they were reliable or not. However, common knowledge said that the Viera's myst-powers were not to be taken lightly. It really all came down to whether he trusted his instincts or Fran's abilities more.
After a few moments, Balthier followed Fran down the stairway with a sigh. At best, she'd be right, and they'd make it out of the fortress easily. At worst, Balthier would learn not to trust Viera's judgement in the future.
At the bottom of the staircase, Fran was nowhere to be seen, however, sounds of a conflict were coming from just around a nearby corner. A flash of light and the sound of arrows whooshing added further evidence that there was a battle going on. Apparently, Fran had forgotten to be careful. Balthier pulled his rifle from its strap across his back and rushed out to join her.
Around the corner, a battle awaited, just as Balthier had predicted. Fran stood against one wall, quickly knocking an arrow and firing it. The nearest of the five attacking guards dropped. The immediate attacker dealt with, Fran closed her eyes, focusing on something. A swathe of light shimmered around her for a moment, then she flashed out one hand. A rush of fire flew from it, knocking back two oncoming guards. Her path cleared, Fran leaped from the wall into the open. Balthier had seen battlemages at work before, but few rivaled that skill and speed.
Two soldiers now remained. One was rushing Fran head on, and the other rounded to catch her from behind. Fran quickly dealt with the one in front, but she hadn't noticed the last one behind, whose sword was primed for a final strike. Balthier raised his rifle and easily dispatched him. At the sound of a gunshot, Fran whipped around, an arrow ready to fire.
"It's just me, saving your life," Balthier said, throwing up his hands. Fran studied him intensely, as if she wasn't sure it really was him. After a few moments, she lowered her bow, nodding.
"This way." She pointed down the corridor, beyond the fallen knights. Then she started off, without anything else, not even a thank you for Balthier's last moment intervention. Balthier swallowed his annoyance at this ingratitude and followed her.
"Where are we going, exactly?" he asked as he caught up with Fran.
"We follow the myst's flow," Fran replied simply. Balthier held back a frustrated sigh.
"And that means…?"
Fran stopped her quick stride, fixing Balthier with her intense, taciturn, timeworn gaze. After a few moments, she spoke.
"The myst flows through sealed places such as these," Fran explained. "It seeks freedom, an open ground to flow upon. We follow its current to the opening which it flows to." Fran nodded down the corridor ahead of them. "It runs this way."
"Thank you," Balthier said, satisfied to finally have an explanation. "Now, shall we get going?"
Fran nodded and started off again. Balthier followed.
They continued into the fortress. Balthier made sure to keep his eyes and ears open, preferring to make it out without any more encounters with imperial knights. There were more soldiers out now, though that wasn't surprising; the guards Balthier and Fran had knocked out in their cell had most certainly come to, and someone was bound to notice the battle that had gone on a while back. The fortress guards knew that there were prisoners on the loose and catching them was top priority. As for Balthier and his new companion, they were doing their best to keep a low profile and avoid the prevalent guards. Fran led them farther down, and Balthier found himself relying solely on her guidance. This sort of trust wasn't something he'd had to use very often in the past two months, but he managed. One thing Balthier could tell was that Fran had no ill will toward him, and that they both shared one common goal: escaping as quickly as possible.
The pathway through the fortress stopped forking so frequently down this way, and they were faced with less important decisions. However, eventually the path split into three, all the paths together making a cross-shaped intersection.
"Which way, Fran?" Balthier asked. Fran closed her eyes a moment, focusing. She was about to speak when a shout cut her off.
"Hey! You there! The prisoners are over here!"
Balthier spun around, quickly whipping out his rifle. Fran produced her bow in like fashion. Two guards raced down the corridor towards them. Footsteps came from down one of the other passages as well, though Balthier couldn't tell which one. Using his rifle, Balthier managed to take out one of the approaching guards before they reached them. Fran had directed her attention down the pathway to their left, in the midst of casting a spell. After a few moments, she whipped out one hand, throwing a sheen of ice over the floor. Shouts indicated several guards sliding to a stop.
The one remaining guard charging them from behind arrived with a shout, swinging his sword with surprising speed. Balthier jumped back to avoid decapitation and flipped his rifle around grasping its length with both hands. He'd trained in the use of a pole during his short time with the Judges and was quite good at it. It wasn't nearly as refined an art as sword fighting, but now wasn't the time to morn over all that.
Balthier blocked the guard's second strike with his rifle, then a third. His fourth strike swung around, and this time he caught Balthier's left arm. The slice wasn't deep and certainly wouldn't have any long-lasting effects, and Balthier ignored it. He took advantage of the opening and hit the knight in the head with his rifle, a well-place strike that sent his helmet flying off. The second blow knocked him to the ground unconscious.
Meanwhile, Fran was holding off two more knights using a combination of magic and arrows. Balthier flipped his rifle back around for its intended use and aided her. In a few moments, all foes were eliminated.
"You're hurt," Fran said, narrowing her eyes at the slash on Balthier's arm.
"It's just a flesh wound," Balthier replied. That was true; it was a minor injury. It hurt a ton and bled like crazy, probably staining his shirt horribly, but he'd live.
"Hold still." Fran slung her bow over her back with the quiver and walked over to him. She reached out and put her hands over the wound. Balthier instinctively jerked away, but then a pulse of warmth and energy rippled from Fran's hands. In a moment, the pain faded away and the bleeding slowed to a halt.
"Impressive," Balthier said, pulling his arm away and examining where the wound had been. It was completely healed.
"The myst has many uses," Fran said simply. She walked toward the pathway on the right, opposite the one where she'd fought the guards, which was still carpeted with ice. "This way," she said, pointing down the corridor. "We're almost to the exit."
Balthier nodded and gestured down the hall.
"Lead the way."

Balthier and Fran continued on into Nalbina Fortress with no further encounters with the guards. They had to hide often, but after what felt like hours, they arrive.
"Though this door," Fran said, stopping abruptly and turning to an inconspicuous door on the side of the passage. She laid a hand on the handle, then paused. Her tall rabbit ears twitched, and she glanced back down the hallway they'd just come from.
"What is it?" Balthier asked.
"More guards coming," Fran replied. At the start of this journey, Balthier would have been skeptical, but Fran had proved her accurate hearing many times since.
"Then let's hurry," Balthier said. Fran nodded and pulled the door open. She hurried inside, and Balthier followed, pulling the door quickly and quietly shut behind them. Inside, this room was small, bare save another door on the opposite wall.
"Though there?" Balthier nodded towards the other door. Fran didn't reply. She was staring at the door they'd come in by. Footsteps sounded outside, and Balthier strained to make out the knights' words.
"Nothing here, sir," one said.
"Have we got guards on the tunnel to the aerodrome, soldier?" another asked.
"I don't think so, sir," the first replied. "Should we set some up?"
Balthier stopped listening and pointed towards the mystery door inside their room.
"You think that's the 'aerodrome tunnel' they're talking about?" he asked.
"Perhaps," Fran replied.
"Well, it'd rather convenient if it was. What'd you say we take our chances and find out?"
Fran nodded. Balthier moved to open the door, only to find it locked. He pulled out the ring of keys he'd take from their guard so long ago and tried those. None of them worked, so Balthier pulled out his lock picks and set to work. This lock took longer than those on the handcuffs, but he managed to finish it before any guards came inside. Finally, the door swung open, revealing a straight tunnel, dark but not very dank. Balthier figured they used this to bring important prisoners straight from the holding cells to the aerodrome without making it a spectacle to Nalbina's population. From what Balthier had heard, the township outside the main complex had become quite the bustling little town. All those citizens probably had very little idea of exactly what went on within the fortress itself.
"This looks about right," Balthier said, standing from where he'd knelt to unlock the door.
Fran nodded. "We should hurry."
"I agree," Balthier replied. He gestured toward the long dark tunnel. "After you."

The tunnel led straight from the fortress to the aerodrome and was completely empty aside from Balthier and Fran. The door at the other end was locked also, but nothing Balthier couldn't deal with. The aerodrome was busy and buzzing with people from all over, just arriving or preparing to depart. There were knights here and there, but they weren't on high alert. Early morning sunlight drifted in through the windows; it had been late afternoon when Balthier was dragged from Rabanastre. He couldn't believe he and Fran had spent the whole night in the fortress. At that thought, weariness tried to rise up inside him, but Balthier fought it back down. They weren't out of Nalbina yet.
It wouldn't be that difficult to get to Strahl's hanger. Balthier had no idea where Strahl was kept, but he did have a little bird who could tell him. While he and Fran kept near a corner trying to look inconspicuous, Balthier reached out to Strahl. The voices of many airships hummed through the air, but he could find hers easily.
"Strahl? Where are you?"
"Balthier!" Strahl voice fizzed with excitement and relief. "You made it! What took you so long?"
"Oh, just escaping from Nalbina Fortress intact," Balthier replied with a hint of sarcasm. "Now, I need to know where you are and exactly how many guards we're dealing with."
"Give me a second!" Strahl said. "I'm in hanger five, and there are… six guards in the with me. They've already sent a message to YPA, and I really don't want to go back there, so could you maybe hurry?"
"That is my plan," Balthier replied.
"Thanks," Strahl said. "See you in hanger five?"
"Right."
All that settled, Balthier turned back to Fran. He now realized she'd been watching him intently the whole time he talked with Strahl. He wasn't used to worrying about other people when he talked to her. Fran didn't look worried or suspicious, but then again, her face always looked as emotionless as it did that moment. If she'd noticed anything out of the ordinary, it didn't show. However, another problem presented itself; how would Balthier tell her they needed to go to hanger five without raising the question of how he knew this? They could just go their separate ways there, but Fran, as a Viera, would stand out like a sore thumb amongst the humans, Bangaa, Moogles and Seeqs in the aerodrome. She'd be found in no time, dragged back to her cell, and eventually be shipped off to Draklor. Fran had aided Balthier greatly in his escape, and he intended to see her safely out of Nalbina Fortress. He owed her that much.
As for how he would get them to hanger five without raising suspicion, Balthier formulated a quick plan and went with it.
"They've got my airship here somewhere," he said to Fran. "We should get down to the docking bays and start looking."
Fran nodded slowly, saying nothing. Her cool brown eyes reflected no emotion, as usual.

The two of them started off towards the hangers, steering clear of any knights. Once they reached the docking bays, Balthier did his best to discreetly direct them to hanger five. They cracked open doors and glanced in several hangers until finally they reached hanger five. Sure enough, inside sat a massive airship, white paint strewn with patterns of gold and navy blue. The docking roof was open, and sunlight glanced off her hull in all directions. Balthier smiled at the sight.
"Here we are," he said, nodding towards the door that cracked open just enough for them to peer inside. "This is my airship: the Strahl." Balthier had to remind himself to put 'the' before her name. He hadn't had to deal with that sort of thing before.
Fran nodded. "How shall we get past the guards?"
Balthier could see three guards standing between the door and Strahl; they were chatting amongst themselves, clearly not expecting any challenge. Balthier briefly wondered who let these knights get so slack on their duties, but then reminded himself not to look a gift horse in the mouth. These knights' carelessness would work greatly in their favor. Wanting to know precisely what they were dealing with, Balthier reached out to Strahl.
"Strahl? You said there were six guards earlier. Where are the others?"
"Hey! You made it!" Strahl beamed. "There's two on my other side; one of them left a little bit ago. I think someone from YPA's arrived already. So maybe you could, you know, hurry?"
Balthier could hear the fear in Strahl's voice, though she tried to hide it. The only thing he could do for her at the moment was to get out of there as fast as possible.
"Right," Balthier said to Strahl. "We'll be out of here shortly."
Balthier turned back to Fran.
"All we need to do now is get past those guards," he pondered aloud. "We could go in all guns blazing, but we're outnumbered, and I'd hate to take too great a risk. What we need is some sort of distraction to get at least some, if not all, of them away."
"What about a fire alarm?" Fran asked. She pointed to a conspicuous red lever on a nearby wall, plastered with your average 'do not pull except in emergency' text.
"That should do," Balthier said, nodding. He walked over to the lever. "Fran, get away from that door. We don't want them thinking anything suspicious is going on, now do we?"
Fran nodded and pulled away from the door, picking out a sheltered corner behind a bushy green plant as her hiding place. Balthier yanked down the fire lever, and sure enough, the alarm bells went crazy. As quickly as he could, Balthier joined Fran in her hiding place. After a few confused moments, four guards came rushing out of hanger five's door, streaking away down towards the main body of the aerodrome. There had been five before, so this left only one guard for Balthier and Fran to deal with. That would be easy.
As soon as the guards were safely past, Balthier and Fran broke from their cover.
"We should hurry inside," Balthier said. "It's only a matter of time before they realize there is no fire and rush back here."
Fran simply nodded.

They took out the singular remaining guard with ease. That dealt with, Balthier unlooked Strahl's door and stepping inside.
"Balthier! You're back!" Strahl exclaimed. "Who's that with you? Is she a Viera?"
"That's Fran," Balthier replied. "She helped me escape the fortress. Now, if you don't mind, we need to hurry and get out of here."
"Fran!" Balthier called back. The Viera still stood outside the doorway, staring up at Strahl. "We need to get going. Are you coming?"
After a moment's hesitation, Fran nodded. She followed Balthier on board, and they both hurried up to the cockpit.
Balthier settled down into the captain's seat, a now familiar location. Light filtered brightly down from the open roof and through Strahl's windshield, scattering all around the cockpit. The open sky beckoned.
Fran sat down in the copilot's seat, a little warily. She scanned the controls in front of her for a moment, then sat back.
"Let's get going!" Strahl's familiar voice echoed in Balthier's mind, both excited and relieved. "I am so ready to FLY!"
Balthier chuckled a little at her enthusiasm, then turned to Fran.
"You ready?" he asked.
Fran just nodded.
Without further ado, Balthier reached over Strahl's controls, maneuvering through a familiar rhythm of button-pushing and switch-flipping. Strahl's engines hummed to life, and Balthier could feel her pulsing with excitement. A division of guards appeared in the doorway to the hanger, but all too late. Strahl took flight, rising up into the clear blue sky, bathed in Dalmasca's bright sun. Shouts flew upward, but they were unnoticed. The one-time occupants of Nalbina's prison had escaped!

Wind blasted over Strahl's windshield, puffy white clouds breaking as the magnificent airship soared through the skies away from Nalbina Fortress.
"Ha-ha! And we're off!" Strahl cheered in Balthier's mind. "That was just a tad too close!"
"Yes, we'll try to avoid such narrow escapes in the future," Balthier replied. The last thing either of them wanted was to go back. Balthier never intended to set foot in Archades again, and he knew Strahl was terrified of returning to YPA. Balthier would do his best to keep either from happening.
Balthier sat back in the captain's chair, a satisfied smile creeping its way over his face. Fran, however, looked as taciturn as ever. There was no excitement on her features, no happiness, just that same frustrating blankness. She was still staring at the controls.
"This is an impressive airship," Fran said after a few silent moments.
"Oh, at last someone realizes my worth!" Strahl said in a teasing voice. Balthier chose to ignore her.
"Where did you get her?" Fran asked.
"Oh, you know…" Balthier trailed off, thinking of a proper reply. 'I stole her out that same aerodrome we just left,' didn't seem to cut it.
Fran said no more, letting the matter drop. Her eyes continued to rove over the controls, taking in every detail. Balthier just focused on steering Strahl. They were in open skies above the Dalmascan Estersand, and virtually no steering was required, but it gave him something to distract him from the awkward silence.
"Chatty, isn't she?" Strahl said.
Balthier let out a scoff. "Very."
After a few more silent seconds, Fran finally said something.
"What is it that you do, exactly?" she asked, finally tearing her gaze from Strahl's controls and settling it on Balthier.
"What do I do?" Again, Balthier had to ponder an appropriated response. He stared out the windshield, trying to think of what to say.
"Say you're a sky pirate!" Strahl's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"A sky pirate?" Balthier withheld the lengthy sigh that wanted to escape his lips. "Strahl, that's not a very defining term. 'Sky pirate' can mean anything from mercenary to vigilante to treasure hunter; pretty much anyone who considers themselves exempt from any crown or council."
"Then that's perfect!" Strahl said. "Isn't that exactly what we are? So go on! Tell her we're sky pirates!"
Balthier let out a sigh but could see the sense in Strahl's words.
"Alright, fine."
He turned back to Fran. "W- I am a sky pirate." Balthier had to catch himself before saying 'we.' The last thing he needed was Fran thinking he was schizophrenic or something.
Fran nodded slowly and said nothing else. Balthier decided to change the subject.
"Is there anywhere I can drop you off, Fran?" he asked.
Fran stared at the ground for a moment before replying. "Anywhere will do."
"Anywhere?" Balthier raised an eyebrow. "Isn't there somewhere you can go? What about your home?"
Fran shook her head. "No. My home… I cannot return there. Anywhere will be fine."
Balthier frowned. "Surely there's somewhere you can go."
Fran shook her head again. "The Viera reject those who choose the outside world, and the world of humans is not fond of outsiders. Anywhere will be as good as anywhere else."
That didn't feel right, just dropping Fran off in some random place, where who-knew-what could happen to her. And yet, what Fran said was true; while Balthier knew little of Viera culture, he knew that wandering Viera were view with great curiosity and little else. If she couldn't go back to the Viera, either, then she really didn't have anywhere to go.
"Why don't you ask her to come with us?" Strahl said, intruding in Balthier's thoughts for the second time.
"Come with us?" Balthier said in surprise. "Strahl, are you out of your mind?"
"I'm being serious!" Strahl continued. "Just a few days ago you were saying how much easier it'd be to drive me if you had a copilot. Besides, I think you'd benefit from some more human interaction. And she doesn't have anywhere else to go. You could just ask, and if she says no, then that's that, right?"
Balthier sighed. And yet, Strahl did make a good argument. She always did. Balthier all but owed Fran his life after that harrowing escape from Nalbina Fortress. In reality, it had only been by Fran's abilities with the myst that they had found an exit, and her magic had won them every battle. If she really didn't have anywhere to go, then Balthier couldn't just leave her high and dry.
"I could use a copilot," Balthier said after a few moments, choosing his words carefully. Fran stared at him, her face as emotionless as ever. Her tall rabbit ears perked up a bit, though.
"You want me… to come with you?" Fran asked. She sounded a little hesitant.
"They say every good sky pirate needs a partner," Balthier replied. Of course, he hadn't even thought of himself as a sky pirate until a few moments ago, but he let that slide.
Fran stared out the windshield a few more moments, watching the clouds ripple by below. Her brown eyes showed no emotion, as usual, but it was obvious she was thinking hard. After a few long, silent moments, she nodded.
"Alright."
That was it? Just, 'alright?' But it was a yes. For better or for worse, Fran was Balthier's partner. He couldn't wait to see which it would turn out to be.

…

Time carried on its ceaseless flow. Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years. Ivalice was a wide and varied world, covered in ancient ruins and vicious monsters, and there was no end of work for a pair of sky pirates. Time passed, and the past grew further away. Fran turned out to be a wonderful mechanic, and overall, a very reliable person. Her and Balthier grew to be very good friends. Neither pried into the other's past, and things worked out fine. Fran showed that though her face never displayed it, she did indeed possess emotions. After a good deal of time, Balthier learned to identify them, and just as Strahl predicted, he benefited from a dose of human interaction.
Balthier was changing. Strahl didn't think he realized it, but in the first long months after the Battle of Nalbina, he had changed significantly. He was going through the long and subtle process of changing from Ffamran into Balthier, whoever that would be in the end. Strahl didn't say anything about it, only watched and offered her support. Balthier thought she was so completely open, that she didn't keep anything from him, but really, there was a lot Strahl didn't say. Even though she tried to forget about YPA, about the fact that she was a weapon of mass destruction, it wasn't something so easily left behind. It was something she could feel, some acute difference, some strange and ebbing force deep inside that set her apart. Strahl wanted more than anything to know why, why she wasn't your average airship, or even why she was an airship at all, trapped in this shell of cold steel and never able to help.
But Balthier had his own struggles; he didn't know who he was, either. Quite often she'd find him fingering that wrench, the gift from his father so many years ago. He'd told her about it, about what it meant, about his powers and family line, about the mystery that surrounded them both. Strahl knew exactly how he felt, not knowing why or what he was, bearing an inexplicable difference that set him apart. Strahl couldn't bear the thought of burdening him with her own struggles, when Balthier already had so much to bear himself.
So she said nothing. Just listened. That was really all she could do. Trapped, that was the only way she could help. Listen and smile and laugh. Seeing everything Balthier did and went through, Strahl felt helpless only able to do that, but at least she could do that. That was her purpose: to live up to her promise, to be there for Balthier when he needed her, helping in the only tiny way she could. Nothing else mattered.

…

There had been political unrest in Archadia for a long time, and Dr. Holdre had suspected a war was coming. Archadia's demand of their new weapon had been proof that this war was starting soon. However, the war wasn't really what Dr. Holdre was worried about. He was losing his specimen.
A year ago, Dr. Holdre had almost given up on Project Buversia. Forty-six attempts to create a proper graft, and every one a failure. Back then, their intention had only been to create a skystone that would be unrivaled in power output. With such a capacity, broader horizons lay open to them than even the realm of airships. Who knew what could be achieved with such a versatile and extraordinary myst-catalyst? But after so many failures, Dr. Holdre had been ready to give up. But then suddenly, it succeeded. YPA's forty-seventh attempt at a coherent splice had been a success. And the result? Specimen GB47.
After that unexpected accomplishment, testing had begun in earnest. Some worked on a shell suitable for such a skystone, and Dr. Holdre had gathered his most accomplished magicite researchers to work with him on the specimen itself. The more experiments they did, the more apparent it became that Project Buversia had more potential than just a controversial power source. The level of myst-focus achieved by the new specimen went far beyond energy conversion. What Specimen GB47 could do…
But that was all over now. When YPA had run out of funds, they went to the Archadian government for a loan, promising the short-term use of the resulting airship in exchange for money. That had been before they knew what else Specimen GB47 could do. Only now, days away from the final experiment, Archadia had called in its loan. Dr. Holdre scolded himself for being so short sighted.
Dr. Holdre crouched on the floor of the engine room of the shell that would become YPA-GB47 Test Combat Fighter. The engines were only half assembled, waiting for the installation of the most important component. Waiting for Dr. Holdre to give up his most precious possession, the specimen he had worked so long and hard on: Specimen GB47.
Dr. Holdre held the small stone in one hand. It was small enough to fit in his palm, with smooth faces like a gemstone. But this little rock was far more precious than any gemstone. The shining stone was pale crystal orange, clear like stained glass, a vein of crimson blood-red snaking across its surface. Dr. Holdre ran one figure along the vein of red, relishing this last moment. A familiar rippled of energy pulsed from its surface, jerking along his fingertips.
"This is only a delay," Dr. Holdre said aloud. "You'll be back home soon." Talking to the skystone was ridiculous, but Dr. Holdre found himself doing it quite often. He spent so much time around the little thing, and often there was no one else to talk to. The specimen's surface rippled with an inner light, then again in an uneven pattern. Was that light the ebb and ripple of words, a strangled attempt at a response? No, that really was crazy. Dr. Holdre knew that well enough.
Dr. Holdre tore his eyes from his precious specimen and reached out to place it in the center of the open engine casing. He bit back his frustration and worked to attach wires and tubes to the stone's surface, securing it as a part of the airship's systems. Once he was satisfied with all the connections, Dr. Holdre shouted up the staircase for the others with him to begin the test run. After a few moments, the engines began to rumble and shake. The skystone began to glow with an intense light, the tubes gripping its surface shaking as they received the flow of myst energy. The glow of bright light was a familiar sight, one Dr. Holdre had seen many a time through countless experiments. The stone's orange surface bled golden light, and the long stripe of blood-red pulsed a dusky glow. They had been so close, almost there…
"But you'll be back soon." Dr. Holdre no longer cared about sound like a lunatic as he spoke to the skystone. Something about it prompted him to do so. "Then, Project Buversia will continue. You have a purpose waiting, my GB47."
With that, Dr. Holdre shut up the engines and left his precious specimen behind layers of metal and wires. He'd have her- it- back soon, and then things would continue. That, he was sure of.

Dr. Holdre paced his office, constantly glancing at the clock, as though that would make time flow quicker. A message had arrived from Nalbina Fortress that they had finally managed to catch the deserter who'd stolen the GB47 fighter. After two months, they'd finally have it back. Those two months had been agonizing for Dr. Holdre. He could still remember how horrifying it had been when the message arrived saying their craft had been taken by a deserter. Why GB47, of every airship there?
But now they'd caught him, and finally YPA was getting their specimen back. Dr. Holdre had sent his assistant to retrieve the airship, but that had been hours and hours ago. He should have been back by then. What was taking him so long?
At last, the door swung open, and Dr. Carks entered the room.
"Is it here?" Dr. Holdre asked. "Where is Specimen GB47?"
"It's… ah… well…" Dr. Carks worked his hands nervously. "They had it at Nalbina, sir, but… the man who stole it, he, well… he escaped and… he took the airship with him."
"WHAT?" Dr. Holdre sucked in a deep breath, struggling to stop his anger from exploding. "You're telling me the Archadian Empire can't keep one thieving cur in prison long enough to get me my specimen back?! You mean they lost it again?"
"Yes…?" Dr. Carks said, looking incredibly nervous. He had come to expect Dr. Holdre's short temper over the years but was by no means used to it.
Dr. Holdre sucked in a deep breath, marching away to sit down in his chair. A multitude of papers were strewn over the desk in front of him, all on Project Buversia. He had pulled out all the files in preparation for the continuation of the project.
"Dr. Carks, please leave me alone," Dr. Holdre said, still struggling to stay calm. Dr. Carks hurried out of the room with no complaints.
Dr. Holdre started to flip though the papers on his desk, more to vent his anger than for any other purpose.
"I can't believe this…" he hissed out under his breath. The image materialized in his mind, the small glowing stone, his precious, one-of-a-kind specimen, now lost again. "So close, and they snatch you away again. I can't believe Archadia can't deal with a little thieving sky scum… But it doesn't matter. You'll be back. I will succeed. Project Buversia will continue, and no sky pirate is getting in my way!"