Author's Note: Before I get another review telling me what I already know, let me say that I am aware that the chapters of this story are short. Regretfully, I don't have time amidgst all my other projects and schoolwork to go back and revise every single chapter. Luckily it's not that long of a fanfic, and so in the future with will and time permitting, I hope to rewrite it and lengthen the chapters to 3,000 to 5,000 words each. In the meantime, please be patient with me and enjoy the story as it is. If I see another review complaining about this, I will know that you did not read the author's note, and that bothers me very, very much.
Despite all, I thank you all for your wonderful reviews and am so happy to be able to come back to a warm reception. Please enjoy!
"Conspicuous Company"
Escorted onto the sizable carrier ship (the same size as the Ixion, much to Balthier's chagrin), they were finally placed in a large cell and left. A single guard stood watch near the door, but said nothing. Balthier was about to exchange him in conversation, if only to pass the time, when he heard footsteps echoing down the metallic halls. The guard bowed and fled.
Standing at the entrance of the cell was a tall man, not much older than Balthier. He had short, raven-black hair with eyes black like nethicite. He sported sharp features: a pointed nose, thin lips, and naturally fine black brows that seemed severe even set in his neutral expression. His lips tugged into a grin, revealing dazzlingly white teeth. "Good to see you again, Drenne."
Glancing up, Drenne's face fell before twisting into rage. "You're the accusing lord?"
"One and the same," said the man, his voice dark and velvety.
Drenne spat. "Accusing I can understand, but lord remains to be a title you're barely deserving of."
He chuckled. "I see absence does not make the heart grow fonder." Menacing eyes turning to Balthier, he said, "Won't you introduce me to your friend?"
"I hardly think you deserving of introductions," she responded airily.
The nameless man shook his head. "Still spurning propriety, Drenne? I see your father's done a fine job."
She laughed harshly. "Any father who chooses you for a suitor obviously does not have the best business sense when it comes to his daughter."
Ignoring her, the man turned to Balthier and offered a quick bow. "Allow me to introduce myself, then. I am Lord Rinae Dimarcus of Mirane."
"You may be unfamiliar with it, Balthier," Drenne cut in, "on account of it being such a small and insignificant territory." She looked up at Rinae. "A reputation also befitting its lord."
"Oh, how you slay us with your recycled wit," Rinae drawled, growing tired of the exchange. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation when you're feeling more amiable."
"Slim chance of that happening," Drenne mumbled under her breath.
"I would then like to invite both you and," he observed Balthier with distaste, but smiled wickedly, "friend to dinner, where we may partake in more cordial conversation. The guards will fetch you when it is prepared. By your leave, milady." Rinae bowed and disappeared down the hall.
"How charming," Balthier remarked sarcastically before turning to Drenne. Her brows were knitted together in a furious expression. "A past flame?"
"Hardly," Drenne hissed. "A snake of a man – though, in the eyes of my father, the perfect provider for his daughter."
"Fiancé?" He was only slightly surprised.
"I suppose you'd call it that," she said, leaning her head back against the wall. "If such a vile creature deserves a title at all."
"I take it you weren't keen on the marriage."
"To put it lightly," she said, "I'd rather be eaten alive by Urutan-Yensa."
"Do you spurn all men?" he wondered, and she laughed.
"By traditional standards, Rinae is hardly a man." She looked at Balthier, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "But if you're worried about your standing with me, you make take solace in the fact that I intend to get a second taste."
Balthier crossed his arms. "Be still, my beating heart."
Not an hour had passed when an assembly of guards escorted them through the various halls of the ship to a room made for dining. Rinae was already seated at the end, sipping a glass of deep red wine. He smiled as they each took a seat at the table, neither motioning to drink.
"Please, I'd hardly poison you," Rinae assured. "The bounty on your heads is halved if you're dead."
"What a gracious host you are," Drenne remarked, still refusing the wine.
Again, Rinae ignored her, and instead turned to Balthier. "Are you enjoying your stay on the Pirx? It is my own airship, not one of the imperial fleet." He spread his arms, motioning to the spacious room. "Hence I have installed rooms for such special occasions."
Drenne saved Balthier the effort of replying. "Yes, we are quite enjoying our stay. The holding cells are incredibly comfortable, and I especially love what you've done with the steel bars. Really, you should go into interior design."
"If you'd hold your tongue for once in your life," Rinae replied, "you'd come to find that no one is interested in it for the purpose of speech."
Drenne glared. "And if you'd hold your breath for once in your life, you'd come to find that people like you much better when you aren't breathing."
Much to Balthier's surprise, Rinae chuckled. "Regardless of your idle chatter, I brought you here to tell you both something. Rather than take you directly to the Emperor, we're to make a quick stop in Mirane for the course of a few weeks' time. The Quill is there as well, its crew quite comfortable in the palace dungeons."
Balthier could see Drenne's knuckles turn white, her fists clenched. "You've no right to confiscate my ship!"
Rinae rolled his eyes. "Hardly, Drenne. If you insist of depriving me of what I want, you'll only receive the same treatment."
"And what is it you want?" Balthier interjected, edging a word into the conversation.
The dark man's eyes danced merrily, yet maliciously. "You'll just have to wait and see, won't you, Balthier?"
"This dinner is over," Drenne announced, getting up from her seat.
"But you haven't even had a sip of your wine," Rinae droned.
She smiled, taking the glass in her hands. "Then I insist you have it." Without warning, she threw the glass at Rinae. It shattered against the back of his chair inches above his head, deep burgundy liquid soaking him.
Rather than curse, Rinae mumbled something beneath his breath. "I do hope you have better etiquette at the reception."
Balthier was curious as to what he meant, but instead followed Drenne's lead and was escorted from the room by guards.
