Balthier is the one who comes up with the plan, since he fancies himself the brains of the operation.
Naturally, he doesn't voice that thought aloud, as he is seated beside two women who he knows would not hesitate to make him suffer, should they hear it.
Now, they're seated around the same low table in the back room of Migelo's shop. Samal has gone back to the darkness of Lowtown, and they are planning a rescue mission. It is dismally normal.
"Right," he is saying. "I'd like to believe this will be simple, but it is Vaan we are talking about. If he can complicate matters, he will."
"Not to mention he'll probably whine like a baby when we drag him back here," Penelo jokes, eyes bright again. "We'd all better agree not to listen to a word he says." It doesn't seem to have occurred to her that Vaan is likely in danger. Or, perhaps it has, and she is made of stronger stuff than he suspected.
"That would be a wise policy whenever Vaan speaks," Fran says with a quirked eyebrow. Balthier suddenly wants to tell her how much he loves her just then.
"And yet ignoring him won't be the biggest problem," Balthier reminds them.
"Why not?"
He turns to face Penelo. "It's a big continent. It's a huge network of continents. Unless you've been hiding your skills as a bounty hunter all these years, we're not going to find him alone."
Silence meets this proclamation. Balthier hates to be the bearer of bad news.
"So, we need to find out precisely what he is doing, and where."
"Marquis Ondore."
He nods at Fran. "Or at least someone in his command, someone else caught up in this pirate-exterminating nonsense."
Penelo jumps out of her chair, sprung to her feet like she's been hit by a float spell. "Well, that's easy."
Two pairs of eyes light on her, quietly asking if she's gone mad. She returns them with a steely glare. "We're friends with the Queen, aren't we? The Marquis is her uncle, she can get us in to talk to him."
Balthier can tell the situation is getting away from him fast. This was not what he had in mind when he'd agreed to help Penelo scant hours ago. "And just how do you propose we do that?"
Somehow, this finds Balthier seated at the table fifteen minutes later, candle on one side and inkwell on the other.
Penelo says that this is because he is the one who really 'gets' the social graces of the higher-ups, but he thinks it's really because she knows damned well that no one can read her cockatrice-scratch handwriting.
As it is, he finishes the last pen stroke with a flourish and lifts the sheaf of paper off the table to survey it properly:
H. R. M. Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca:
I do regretfully acknowledge that it has been some time since our last meeting, Highness. While I hope that you did not vex yourself too heavily over my safety, I also dare hope that you might have even missed me. Though I realize you may still harbor some rather harsh feelings toward me since my unexplained disappearance after the regretful Bahamut incident, one hopes that we can put that aside for a moment in order to aid the greater good.
It has been quite some time since our last communication, but I am assured that you retain much affection for your allies of somewhat less lofty social circumstances. (We can't all be Queen, you know.) As a result, I assume you also retain some tolerance for the antics of the headstrong pseudo-pirate Vaan. I know that you will be only too happy to aid us in the recovery of our favorite idiot, even if it means asking a rather large favor of you.
I know that you are as wise and just as you are beautiful, and do eagerly await your response.
Yours, as always,
Balthier.
When Balthier stands, he sends a small cascade of rejected first-draft letters tumbling from his lap to the floor. Penelo meets him before he can even exit the room, grinning and holding out her hand.
When he gives her the letter, she scans it quickly, expression starting at 'amused' and spiraling down into 'displeased.'
"Balthier, this doesn't even say what we want from her."
He can't keep himself from looking affronted. He thinks it's a fine letter. "These things take time, Penelo."
Her eyebrows knit together, the picture of uncertainty, but hands it off to one of the orphan boys who always hangs around the shop. The boy takes off at a run, though just how he thinks he's going to get the letter into the hand of the Queen, Balthier doesn't know.
Balthier makes his way out into the shop proper, where Fran is surveying the shopping bonanza with mild interest. "We wait?"
"I need a drink," is all he will say.
Balthier had been expecting to reach the Sandsea within five minutes of walking through Westgate. Instead, it has taken him three hours, but at least he's gotten there.
He and Fran have found their favorite balcony empty as usual, and are now sitting at it. Balthier, for all his insistence on needing alcohol, has been denied it by his very stern copilot, who reminds him that they may leave for Bhujerba at any time.
Balthier personally thinks that she needn't bring up his rather low tolerance for mind-altering substances. Since she's not letting him have any in the first place, it's just cruel and unnecessary.
"Fran, please," he starts to protest. However, he is cut short by the glint of steel he sees out of the corner of his eye.
It's a Dalmascan soldier, standing on the stairs and shuffling his feet against the flagstones.
Now, Balthier has spent a very long time trying to figure out just what those preposterous uniforms are intended to protect. The soldier – Vaan's age, perhaps; much younger than him - is wearing what look like a set of steel sleeves, a collar, leggings, and an oversized metal plate across his lower regions. That's it. Nothing over the chest, and a barely-adequate helmet.
The only conclusion he has reached is that the soldiers - much like the rest of the Dalmascan population - have some kind of allergy to clothing, and aim to wear as little of it as possible.
The soldier clears his throat, and his boots click on the floor.
"Yes?"
"Are you Balthier?" He sounds young, too. Nervous, even.
Balthier nods, and accepts a folded sheet of paper from the young man. Before he turns his attention to it, however, he watches the solder flee. Yes, lots of leather over his admittedly shapely backside, and entirely not enough armor.
He doesn't even pretend that he looks out of purely intellectual curiosity.
"Are you too distracted to notice? You've a letter from the Queen."
When he looks down at the paper he's laid on the table, sure enough, the Dalmascan royal seal is recreated in wax on the outside. "Yes, thank you, Fran," he says with sickly sweetness.
He prizes it open carefully, noting that the seal is far messier than befits a member of the royal family. Looking at how the sealing wax is smeared across the paper, he might have guessed it was put there with undue violence.
With that rather foreboding thought echoing in his mind, Balthier slips a note out of the envelope and reads:
Quasi-Legal Expatriate w/Delusions of Grandeur:
Contrary to what your ego may inform you, a Queen has many things to do with her day, none of which involve pining after the fate of pirates. However, a Queen may occasionally find herself in a position where it is befitting for her to put aside personal antipathies in order to better facilitate the peace and prosperity of her people. One may hope that your sense of duty would find you likewise inclined to keep your thoughts trained on the present and refrain from unnecessary communication with our royal person.
As for the matter of which you write, while I am quite concerned for the safety of all of my citizens (individual deficits in intelligence notwithstanding), I can do little to help if you will not deign to name this favor that you beg. I have faith that you would not trouble me, were these matters not urgent.
In service,
Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca
Balthier rests his head in his hands a moment, before sliding the sheet across the table to Fran. While she reads, he rubs his temples and asks what he'd ever done to deserve someone like Ashe in his life.
He also can't figure out why Fran is smirking when he looks up at her.
"Do you have a pen?" he asks. It's going to be a very long day.
A/N: I felt like chapter two was a bit conversation and plot heavy, so I decided to just make it a double update.
(Please read, review, and enjoy!)