Welcome to Part Two! Enjoy!

Part Two: The Clash of Empires
Act One: Spark
Chapter Twelve

The royal city, Rabanastre
Year 706 of the Old Valendian Calendar

"Oh, the bright sun and the shimmering sands, and all those buildings! There's so many people, too! Did you see that fountain? Oh, the water sparkling like diamonds in the glorious desert sun! And those red flowers! This place is amazing, the shining jewel in Dalmasca's fallen crown! Balthier, why don't we come here more often?"
Balthier was relieved as Strahl's enthusiastic, poetic description of the city below came to an end. At the moment, he was focusing on getting her parked in Rabanastre's aerodrome, and he used that as an excuse to mostly ignore her. He deemed her question as purely rhetorical and didn't answer.
It had been two long years since the Battle of Nalbina Fortress, and all that seemed so long ago it wasn't worth remembering. Yes, all that had been in another lifetime. Now, Ffamran was long since dead and buried. Balthier was finally free from the past, from Archadia, the nethicite, and his heavy heritage. At least, that's what he liked to believe.
The life of a sky pirate had turned out to suit Balthier rather well, far more than being a Judge ever had. Fran had adjusted to it quickly as well, and working with her in a business of sky pirating had soon become everyday life. Certainly, they met new people frequently, but Balthier's only constant companions throughout the past two years had been Fran and Strahl. And of course, Fran had no idea about airships and Balthier's abilities, so to her, Strahl was just a nifty mode of transportation.
It had been two years since the war's end, and Balthier could now enter towns and move around with a good deal of safety. If you mentioned 'the sky pirate Balthier' to a group of high-ranking Archadian captains, then chances are it would stir some sort of remembrance; however, it had been long enough that Balthier's face now longer instantly prompted the authorities to chase him. Bounties still existed, nevertheless, and Balthier always made sure to watch himself. He knew the faces of all the most notorious headhunters, most from experience, and always kept an eye out. One headhunter in particular had been a nuisance, a ruthless Bangaa named Ba'Gamnan. Balthier and Fran had had many narrow escapes from that one over the years. Every time they slipped away, Balthier thought that maybe Ba'Gamnan would finally give up, and every time he'd come back angrier and more determined than before. But hopefully no headhunters would interrupt their plans this time.
The city of Rabanastre, the former capital of the conquered kingdom of Dalmasca, was preparing for a grand occasion. A new consul from Archadia was to be inaugurated as Rabanastre's representative that day, and the word was they were sparing no expense on the fete that night. The celebration was to be held in the royal palace, the former home of Dalmasca's royalty. The palace also held a copious treasury full of a variety of ancient relics, and with everyone enjoying themselves at the fete, the security around that treasury would be lax. At least, that's what Balthier was hoping for. Such an opportunity was too good to pass up. Thievery wasn't he and Fran's usual business, but one particular relic of Dalmasca's had captured his attention. He'd heard about it from ancient legends, and of course from the local airship hubbub. They never forgot anything, not even the stray mumbles of the king from years ago when he thought no one was listening. It was called the Dusk Shard, supposedly a piece of magicite passed down through the generations among the Dalmascan royal family. The Dusk Shard represented the birthright of a Dalmascan ruler, and possessing it was considered proof of lineage. Of course, now King Raminas and his only child Lady Ashe were dead, and the Dalmascan royal family extinct. However, the inconsistency among myths about the Dusk Shard had got Balthier's curiosity piqued. He'd heard certain tales of Dalmasca "fighting" with the Dusk Shard, only that seemed impossible. How could someone use a piece of ordinary magicite as a weapon all on its own? His intent was to get a good long look at the thing, then probably pass it on for a nice spot of gil. All in a day's work for a sky pirate.
Balthier settled Strahl nicely in the docking bay at Rabanastre's aerodrome, and the dome-shaped roof overhead folded closed. A few switches flipped and buttons pressed, and the hum of Strahl's engines quickly died away. Fran sat in the copilot's seat next to Balthier, assisting in the process. Strahl was designed to be flown by two people, and, as she had predicted, Fran's support had been invaluable over the years. Balthier had come to trust her completely, and though he wouldn't never have thought of it this way, much less said it, she was sort of like his big sister. Fran possessed wonderful talent with machines, which Balthier found ironic, considering she was from a race of magic-using forest-dwellers. When he asked her about that, she just said that she'd, "lived in the lands of the humans many years." That was probably the largest glimpse of her past that Fran had given him, but Balthier was okay with that; he hadn't breathed a word about Archades and his past to her, either. They both lived their lives in the present. At least, that's what Balthier tried to do.
With Strahl all docked, Balthier and Fran disembarked. A bouncing group of mechanic Moogles met them. The tallest of the little furry creatures came up to Balthier's knee.
"Want us to do some maintenance on your airship while you're out and about?" one of the Moogles asked. "We'll have her running like new by the time you get back!"
"No, thank you, that's alright," Balthier said with a dismissive wave of his hand. The Moogle looked shocked.
"It doesn't cost any extra!" he said. "It comes packaged with the stay!"
"That's alright, thank you," Balthier repeated.
"Oh, come on!" Strahl's voice entered his mind. "You know they're not gonna do any harm!"
"And you know I prefer to do that sort of thing myself," Balthier replied. "Who knows what they'll find out, or who they'll tell? Do you want to go back to YPA?" Strahl's only reply was a sigh. Balthier knew his suspicious, over-protectiveness ruffled Strahl's feathers, but he didn't like to take any chances.
Balthier and Fran continued on towards the door, leaving the group of flabbergasted Moogles.
"The fete isn't until tonight. What do we do in the meantime?" Fran asked, her voice thick with her foreign accent. Balthier could understand her perfectly after the two years they'd spent together.
"We could listen to the new consul's inauguration speech," Balthier replied. "Might be interesting. More practically, we should stock up on supplies, and you should do a final once-over on that hoverbike of yours." A few weeks ago, Fran had found an hoverbike in an ancient ruin. The machine dated back to the mysterious, unknown civilizations that existed long before empires like Archadia and Rozarria had even been founded. Such ruins were often full of surprisingly advanced technology, a fact that baffled many archologists. Whatever its origins, Fran had made restoring the small flying vehicle to its former glory her pet project, working tirelessly for days. Balthier had thought the endeavor a lost cause, but Fran's stubborn determination had somehow managed to succeed. That hoverbike was an integral part of their plan for infiltrating the palace that night, and Balthier wanted to make sure it was absolutely ready.
"It will work," Fran replied, her voice and face as taciturn as ever. Balthier had found watching her ears and posture revealed her emotions far more than her face. Right now, Fran was ruffled he thought her hoverbike wouldn't work.
"Even so, you should check," Balthier said. "We don't want that ancient machine breaking in the middle of things, now do we?"
Fran nodded slowly. They had reached the door by then and were exiting the hanger bay, the group of dejected Moogles drifting slowly after them.
"Hey! Good luck out there, you two! Be careful!" Strahl called after them. Of course, only Balthier could hear her, but he appreciated the sentiment, nonetheless.
"We will," Balthier replied. "See you tonight."
"Yep!"

…

Rabanastre was a bustling city, full to the brim with people. Most of them were native Dalmascans who'd lived there since before the war. The atmosphere was bright and full of energy, bathed in the bright desert sun. This cheerful spirit in the air was dampened by the constant presence of Archadian knights on every street corner, their dark armored figures a constant reminder that Rabanastre was a conquered providence of Archadia now, rather than the grand capital of an ancient kingdom.
Balthier had managed to convince Fran to give her hoverbike one last checkup, and he'd helped her lug it out of Strahl's hold before heading off to gather supplies. Yes, so there was Balthier, weaving through the crowded streets of Rabanastre, running errands. But such things were necessary. Balthier would make sure he and Fran both had enough ammunition for their respective weapons, as well as get a feel for how well-guarded the fete would be. Store patrons could be quite chatty, and Balthier knew how to subtly pry desired information out of such talkative people. He was engaged in such a conversation with a certain shop owner when the loud noise of a bell rang from outside.
"The parade must be starting," the shopkeeper said, nodding towards the door. "That new consul from the Empire's gonna give a speech." From his tone of voice, Balthier could tell this shopkeeper wasn't particularly thrilled with the arrival of a new consul. He imagined most of the Dalmascans felt likewise.
"Sounds intriguing," Balthier said. "I think I'll go check it out." Word about was Rabanastre's new consul was a person of some importance, and Balthier's curiosity prompted him to go take a look. He quickly paid the shopkeeper and headed outside.
The sidewalk was thronging with people, all straining to see as a massive float ventured down the road. Balthier pushed a little farther into the crowd to get a better view. Atop the float stood a man with long black hair, sailing past high above the throng below. Rabanastre's new consul.
The float continued on a ways, coming to a stop in front of the palace, a magnificent structure standing in the center of Rabanastre. A Judge dressed in full armor walked up to the stand at the float's top above the man with black hair.
"We will have order!" he called, and the hubbub of the gathered crowds trickled to a stop. "I give you your new council," the Judge continued. "His Imperial Highness Lord Vayne Solidor, son of Emperor Gramis Solider, Commandant of the Archadian Empire's Western Ar-"
The Judge was cut off as Vayne walked up to the stand, marching past him to face the crowd. The Judge let out a startled cry of, "Your Excellency!" but Vayne gave no mind.
"People of Rabanastre!" Vayne's voice echoed over the now quiet crowds gathered below. "Is it with hatred you look upon your consul? With hatred, you look upon the Empire?"
The crowd's unpleasant response reflected Vayne's sentiment. Shouts of animosity were hurl from the young and the old, filling the air again with noise.
"There was little point in asking." The crowd quieted again as Vayne continued. "But know this: I harbor no idle hopes of frustrating that hatred, nor shall I ask your fealty. That is the due of your fallen king, and rightly so. King Raminas loved his people, strove to bring you peace. His was a rule worthy of devotion. Even now, he remains among you, protecting you. His ardor for the peace and weal of Dalmasca falters not. I would ask only that you do your king honor. Together, let us embrace the peace His Majesty would surely desire. Two years now divide us from war's bitter end, yet still its shadow looms over all, stifling the infant peace. A pall only you may cast off! Achieve but this one thing… and your hatred of me, and of the Empire, will grieve me not!"
By this time, the audience sat in rapt attention, drinking in Vayne's every word. Vayne himself grew more animated as he spoke.
"I will stand fast. I will endure your hatred, suffer your slings and arrows. I will defend Dalmasca! Here will I pay my debt! I swear it now! Though Kind Raminas and Lady Ashe be gone, they stand ever at the side of their people. In honoring peace… you do honor their memory, and to Dalmasca. What I ask, I ask plain. My hopes now rest with you."
Vayne gave a courtly bow, and the crowd that had once hurled barbs of hatred erupted into vibrant cheers. Vayne's rhetoric was quite impressive, to say the least; only the most silver-tongued of speakers could change such a crowd from foe to friend with a single oration.
"An impressive speech."
It took all Balthier's self-control not to jump in surprise as Fran's voice came from behind. He spun around to find her standing behind him. Her face was blank as ever, but the twitch of her ears said his response amused her.
"Yes, it was," Balthier said, brushing off Fran's startling arrival. "The consul has quite a way with words. Now, on to more important things; Fran, how's the bike looking?"
"It will work," Fran replied. "Everything is prepared for tonight."
"Good," Balthier said. "Now all we have to do is wait."

…

Fireworks burst in a spectacular explosion of colors and noise, lighting up the dark night sky of Rabanastre. Within the palace, the consul and his invited guests were happily dining, welcoming Vayne Solidor to his new position. Outside, backed by fireworks, a pair of pirates flew through the air unnoticed on an ancient hoverbike.
Balthier hated that thing. The hoverbike worked just fine, yes, but it was so… wrong. The flying device operated not on a skystone but on an electrical system. Such things worked for tiny transports like the hoverbike and small skimmers, but it just felt so wrong. It flew, and yet it wasn't alive, couldn't talk, not like a proper airship. It just felt so horridly unnatural.
Balthier shoved away that crawling discomfort and focused on the matter at hand. Fran sat at the front, taking the controls of her little pet project. There were guards on patrol in the palace courtyard below, but the fireworks provided more than enough cover for the hoverbike. They sailed through the sky right over the guards' heads. A large walkway stretched over the courtyard, leading straight into an open hallway: the perfect entrance.
"Fran, down there," Balthier pointed towards the walkway, and Fran nodded. She guided the hoverbike down towards the walkway, and they came to a halt just above it. Balthier jumped and landed quietly on the stone walkway below, and Fran on the hoverbike touched down a little ways away.
"The treasury shouldn't be too far from here," Balthier said, making sure to keep his voice down. "Let's move, Fran."
Fran simply nodded, climbing off her hoverbike and moving over to join him.

The guards in the palace were incredibly sparse, just as Balthier had predicted. He and Fran slinked through the hallways with little difficulty, never once raising an alarm. After much time and much puzzlement, they managed to unlock a secret doorway which Balthier assumed led to the treasury. If not, then at least it would lead to somewhere interesting. So he and Fran started down the passage. At the end, it opened up into a wide room scattered with all sorts of treasure: undoubtably the palace treasury.
Only they weren't alone. The sounds of footstep and breathing indicated another presence. Balthier quickly hid behind a tall crate and motioned for Fran to join him. After a few moments, their fellow occupant came into few.
Instead of an armored guard, it was a scrawny kid. He couldn't have been more than a teenager, with the blond hair and suntanned skin of your average Dalmascan. The kid tramped around the room, staring at the conglomeration of treasures with wide eyes: some amateur thief. The thief turned to peer into a vase, hitting some lever in the process. It set off a mechanical clinking sound, and the face of a nearby statue split open. That attracted Balthier's attention far more than little Thief; inside the statue's face was a hunk of crystal of an orange-red hue. It was obviously magicite of some kind or another, hopefully, the Dusk Shard.
An excited look took over Thief's face as he saw the crystal.
"Jackpot!" he said, so loud is made Balthier wince. He was surprised guards didn't come running. It was a good thing security was lax that night, else Thief would likely be skewered on the end of a knight's sword.
Thief proceeded to grab the magicite from the statue, staring at it with a grin.
"Yes," he said to himself. "Wait 'til you see this, Penelo."
Sitting there watching Thief go about his business wasn't getting them anywhere. Balthier had his sights set on that stone, and he wasn't planning on leaving without it.
"Fran," Balthier hissed to his partner, keeping his voice as low as possible. "I'll distract him, and you sneak around and catch him from behind, alright?"
Fran nodded, slipping away around the row of crates, out of view. Balthier quickly thought up a clever way to introduce himself and capture Thief's attention, then pulled out from behind his cover.
"That's quite the performance, but I'm afraid it's over, now."
Thief spun around with a gasp as Balthier strode into view.
"Who are you?" Thief said, eyes wide.
"I don't really think you're in the position to demand names," Balthier replied as Fran slipped out from behind the crates and came up sharply behind Thief. "Fran, the magicite."
Thief spun around with a gasp as he saw Fran. Balthier almost felt sorry for the poor kid.
"Now then, I'll take that," Fran said, her stony gaze locked on Thief.
"No you won't." Thief said, clutching his newly acquired treasure against his chest. "I found it. It's mine!"
Balthier rolled his eyes. "And then when I take it from you, it'll be mine."
Thief's eyes darted back and forth between Fran and Balthier, and he took a step backward towards the wall. Balthier was impressed that the kid hadn't lost his cool yet. Perhaps he was tougher than he looked.
The distinct sound of knights' armor clinking came down the passage Balthier and Fran had taken, signaling the arrival of soldiers. Balthier glanced momentarily in the direction the noise came from, only for the sound of a door to draw him back to his surroundings. Thief had taken advantage of the momentary distraction and dashed out a side exit. The door still swung on its hinges from when the kid slammed it. Thief had gotten away. With the Dusk Shard. Balthier let out a long sigh.
"What now?" Fran asked.
"You get back to the hoverbike," Balthier said. "I'll chase our juvenile miscreant. Be ready to help, will you?"
"Right." Fran nodded, turning back towards the tunnel. "Good luck."
Against a kid like that? Balthier hoped he wouldn't need luck.

Balthier chased Thief out of the treasury, down hallways and up stairs. Soldiers were suddenly everywhere, but luckily Thief avoided them as well. The overabundance of soldiers greatly confused Balthier; something was going on, besides the break-in of a few sky pirates.
Thief was quick for his age, and never seemed to slow down. Eventually he dashed out onto the outdoor walkway where Fran had parked the hoverbike. Hopefully, she'd be waiting nearby to help. Balthier skidded to a halt at what he saw outside. Below in the palace gardens, a massive swordfight raged. Imperial soldiers fought against a rag-tag group in Dalmascan armor. Balthier had heard rumors about a group of Dalmascan rebels who worked in the shadows to free their nation from Archadia's control, but no one really believed it. Apparently, the insurgents really did exist, and they, too, had decided to take advantage of the fete for a strike against the new consul.
A bombardment from above disrupted the fighting in the garden; the heat and force of the explosions were strong enough to shake the walkway. Balthier glanced upward to see a very familiar dreadnaught hovering above the palace, spitting fire into the conflict below. Was that the Ifrit? The timing of her entrance was impeccable. It was almost like the imperials had been waiting all along…
Another flurry of explosives sent a cloud of dust billowing over the walkway, and Balthier raised an arm to block it. Thief, who had also stopped to watch the spectacle below, took off with the same speed and energy he'd used the whole way through the palace, not tired in the least.
"Stop running!" Balthier shouted after him in exasperation. Thief did, but only because Fran on her hoverbike came flying in to block his path. Finally, the chase was over.
"End of the line!" Balthier called. "Now hand over that magicite."
Thief glanced back and forth between them in a panic, searching desperately for some way to escape. But there was none. Balthier and Fran had finally caught him.
Before any of them had time to act, a spotlight from Ifrit bathed over the whole walkway. A division of soldiers burst out of the palace behind them. That wasn't good.
"Fran!" Balthier called. "Let's move!"
Fran drove her hoverbike over the edge of the bridge, hovering below it and waiting for Balthier to join her. But Balthier wasn't going anywhere without that magicite he'd worked so hard to get. Thief wasn't going to drop it anytime soon, so Balthier decided to throw caution to the wind and do what was necessary. He rushed at Thief, tossing the kid over his shoulder and racing towards the edge. Thief struggled, but to no avail. Balthier climbed up over the railing, tossed Thief over it, then jumped after him.
Balthier landed nicely in his seat on the hoverbike behind Fran. He caught Thief's wrist as he fell passed, and the hoverbike started off, the kid dangling all the while.
A sharp jolt of energy rushed up Balthier's arm, surprising him. The hand he grasped was the one that held the magicite, and the crystal ebbed a faint glow. It was close enough to grab, if Balthier wanted to drop Thief to his death. But that sharp wave, that painful ripple of static-like energy from the stone… it felt just like…
But that was impossible. That feeling reminded Balthier too much of the nethicite, but that couldn't be right. The nethicite Draklor had was a one-of-a-kind specimen. Right?
But Balthier had no time to worry about that now. The bombardments from Ifrit were still coming strong, and Fran was narrowly avoiding them. Balthier found it hard to keep his hold on Thief's wrist as she weaved between fire-blasts. And to make things worse, Thief was still struggling.
"Let go of me!" he shouted.
"Keep this up and I will!" Balthier snapped back at him. That seemed to quiet him down.
Fran made another sharp turn, narrowly avoiding yet another explosion. The hoverbike's engine made a worrying whining sound, and the lights along its length faltered.
"What's going on, Fran?" Balthier asked.
"I don't know," Fran replied, yanking futilely on the bike's controls. "It's not heeding me!"
Balthier let out a sigh. The hoverbike had to break now? After they'd checked it so thoroughly?
"I'm slipping!" Thief cried, struggling to grab onto the hoverbike with his other hand. Balthier tried to readjust his grip on Thief's wrist, but to no avail. The magicite brushed up against him, and another jolt of inexplicably familiar power rushed up his arm, only causing his grip to loosen further.
"Not good!" Balthier said, barely holding on. A sudden blast came down right in front of them, and a cloud of smoke and fire enveloped the hoverbike. The last thing Balthier remembered was the feeling of falling, the screech of metal breaking, and Thief's screams as they descended.