"Oh, bloody hell," I mutter under my breath, leaning around a corner with my heart hammering in my chest. "Not this again." The guards pacing the halls of Rabanastre's palace are perfectly spaced, the handiwork of Vayne Carudas Solidor's careful consideration. I sigh, straightening and pressing my back to the ornate wall of the palace as two guards walk by, their armor clinking with every step. Why so many guard's when you're "not afraid?"
The clinking turns the corner around the outer wall of the room I'm outside and I slide around the corner. I can't go in circles for much longer. Frustrated, I throw my head back, eyes shut as I take a deep breath. Footsteps, the hum of conversation upstairs, the thud of my heart. There must be another way... My eyes open and a smile spreads across my face. All hope may not be lost after all. I pull my lance free from its place on my back, slamming the pointed spearhead into the wall. There's a dull thud as it pierces through, lodged amongst golden swirls and deep green accents.
I pull myself up onto the polearm, tugging the ceiling vent open and swinging my legs into the opening. Dangling upside down like a lithe child, I jerk my weapon free, littering the floor with white crumbles, and cover the hole I escaped through a mere second before the guards come rushing in to see what caused such a ruckus. Grinning, I strap my spear to my back and crawl through the narrow space between the ceiling and the top floor. Perhaps next time, my friends. Avoiding trouble with the empire may just be an inherent skill of mine.
I know I've reached the right place when a golden glow bleeds through the next grater, reflecting off the shine of the empire's gold and jewels. The treasury. Voices hum from below; I debate interrupting the goings-on between the two speakers. I should have known others would find out about the cache of riches in Rabanastre of all places.
Normally, I avoid trouble at all costs, as it always gravitates toward me anyway. However, I simply cannot bear the idea that whoever beat me to it(with whatever cheating methods they used) gets the benefits of first pick. No, piracy isn't all first come, first served. Most often it's whoever survives the encounter that gets the prize. At least, that's how I play the game. Silently, I push the grate out of the way and take a deep breathe, clocking out their locations based on low voices.
"I play the leading man, who else?"
Without further hesitation, I drop from the ceiling, holding the end of my spear to the throat of the beholder of a glowing treasure. The boy before me looks startled, his fingers clutching tightly around the stone in his grasp.
"Hand it over and you may just leave intact," I demand in a sickeningly sweet voice, offering a devilish smile.
"Fran, the magicite," another voice comes. My smile melts away as I look between the two other figures in the room. One, a towering viera with snow-white hair and deadly claws. The other a young man in a gold vest and leather pants with pouches strapped here and there. I scowl as the viera, Fran, rests a hand on her hip, staring hard at the boy.
"Now then, I'll take that," she says firmly through a thick, tell-tale accent.
"No, you won't," the boy replies, holding the stone to his chest. "I found it. It's mine."
"That's not how it works, kid," I shake my head, digging the point of my weapon further into his tanned throat.
"And then when I take it from you, it'll be mine," the man replies, ignoring my words entirely. He leans against a locked chest, crossing his arms. The viera joins his side. I scoff, raising an eyebrow at the pair.
"Not a chance."
"And you are...?" the man counters, raising an eyebrow.
"None of your business," I fire back. Outside, the echoes of a struggle break through. I look back at the wall, frowning. The end of my spear clatters to the floor, and when I turn back, the boy is gone, a pair of doors swinging loosely behind him. "Fantastic," I scoff, throwing my spear back into its sheath and glowering at the two behind me before giving chase to the thief. They reek of my kind.
I sprint out the door and down the hall, following the pounding of the boy's footsteps. He's fast, I'll give him that. With my lungs screaming for air, I hurry up several staircases, catching glimpses of the scarlet sash around his waist every so often. The ground rumbles and a nearly deafening boom ensues just as I throw the doors to the balcony passage open. The boy and I stagged to the ground with a series of muffled cries. A pair of boots rushes past my head as I drag myself to my feet. The man from the treasury looks up at the massive airship over our heads.
"The Ifrit, eh? That's quite an entrance," he comments, eyeing the boy on the ground. I scowl at the back of his head as I rub a raw scrape on my bare shoulder with the armored hand of my left arm. "Impeccable timing. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were waiting all along," he continues, his voice growing grim.
A cannon snaps down from beneath the Ifrit, an imperial warship, and another missile blasts into the central garden of the Rabanastre palace. I raise an arm to shield my face from the flying dust. I can already hear the boots of the boy hurrying across the bridge, even before the man gives a frustrated shout of:
"Stop running!"
I sprint after the boy and the man, wincing at the sore ache in my hip as I go. Just as the thief approaches the door, a motorized bike pulls out in front of him, driven by the viera from mere minutes ago. Of course. A good sky pirate always has an escape plan. I skid to a stop, brushed aside by the brisk pace of the man in the vest.
"End of the line!" He calls over the whir of the engine. "You have something that belongs to me," he continues, holding out a hand decorated with colorful rings and bracelets. It hardly matches whatever getup he was going for. He heads for the boy, looking startled when lights shine down over our heads.
"More this way!" comes a booming shout.
Cursing under my breath, I sprint after the man and the thief without hesitation. I can't afford to be caught. Not again.
"Fran! Let's move!" While the viera rides down over the edge of the balcony, the man hurls the boy over his shoulder, leaping onto the edge of the bridge. "Off with you!"
With that, he throws the thief down, jumping after him. Not one to hesitate in the face of danger, I follow, resisting the urge to squeeze my eyes shut. Hardly seconds later, my fingers dig into the back edge of the bike, clinging for dear life as we speed through the air on a wild escape mission. The man landed in his seat behind Fran, his hand firmly gripping the boy's wrist as he dangles in the air just like me.
"Let go of me!" he protests, trying to fight.
"Keep this up and I will!" the man counters, scowling down at his newest liability. The bike wobbles, moving up and down rapidly as it struggles to keep itself up. "What's going on, Fran?"
"I don't know. It's not heeding me!"
I grit my teeth, my stomach churning when I look down at the passing ground. You're never afraid of heights until you're hanging off the back end of a malfunctioning, flying motorcycle. Unless you're already afraid of heights, I suppose.
"I don't have time for this!" the man shouts back, frustration clearly laced through his voice.
"I—I'm slipping!"
"Not good!"
Another blast has us sharply turning a corner, the bike rapidly falling toward the ground. Several cries resonate through the air as we crash land. Rolling, spinning, flying through the dirt, I come to a painful stop upon hitting a hard brick wall with a groan. The motorbike skids to a stop on the ground, sparking. Fran rolls to her feet, crouching by the bike as I force myself up, dusting the dirt off my loose white shirt.
"What happened?" the viera asks, frowning at the bike. "Our hover didn't just drop—it disappeared."
"Bah, forget it," the man huffs, sitting on the crumbled steps of what once was a grand entrance. Now, it's a pile of debris in the bottom of a sewer system. "The Ifrit's playing with fire, and I'd rather not get burned." He offers Fran a sly smile. "We'll go the old-fashioned way."
"Fates above, I always get roped into the worst situations," I mutter, crossing my arms. The man watches the boy as he stares at Fran with wide eyes.
"Not many viera where you come from, thief?"
"It's Vaan," the boy counters quickly, looking back down at Fran. "Sorry." The viera straightens, staring back at him with sharp red eyes.
"Well, Fran is special," the man explains, leaning forward on his knees, "in that she's deign to partner with a hume." Fran raises an eyebrow at him.
"Oh? Like a sky pirate that chooses to steal through the sewers?" she counters. Balthier spares her an annoyed glance.
"Pirates?! You guys are sky pirates?!" Vaan asks excitedly. "So you have an airship?"
"It's Balthier," the man replies sharply. I sigh, shaking my head.
"I could've told you they were pirates the second I saw them in that treasury." Vaan turns to me with bright eyes.
"You're one of them?!"
"Not one of them," I reply, nodding toward Balthier and Fran. "But yes, a sky pirate all the same." Flashing a charming smile, I shift my weight onto my left hip. "The name's Shae." Balthier huffs, getting to his feet and pointing a finger at Vaan.
"Listen, thief—Vaan. If you ever want to see your home again, you do exactly as I say." He raises an eyebrow. "Myself, Fran, and you. We're working together now. Understood?"
"And what about me?" I counter, crossing my arms. "I'm not just going to give up and let you both take the claim on that magicite."
"Fine, fine," Balthier scoffs, waving a brightly accessorized hand in the air dismissively.
"Don't even think you're getting this," Vaan snaps, holding the magicite behind him defensively and glaring between the pirates on either side of him. Balthier exchanges a quick glance with his partner.
"The thought never crossed my mind."