Chapter Six: Deifected Nethicite, mad scientists and agitated Viera
'At least your sword is to the point.'
With the tip of Ghis' ornately decorated and unfairly lethal sword against his throat Balthier supposed it was a fair guess to assume the Judge-Magister recognised him.
He was more than a trifle surprised that the Princess gave up her bauble in exchange for his head remaining securely affixed to his body. Perhaps she was not as cold and ungenerous as he had thought?
Of course it made not the slightest difference in the long run, and he questioned the Princess' tactical thinking if she really thought it did. He, Fran, Basch, Vaan and Penelo were all dead. If not now then upon reaching Rabanastre.
This time it was also highly unlikely that he and Basch could disable their armed escort, especially with the deluded turncoat Vossler busily talking collaboration to the Princess at their backs.
Though he felt not the slightest sympathy for the man, Balthier could at least parse out Vossler's reasoning. It made a lot more strategic sense than the Princess's plan to take on the might of the Empire with a stone.
Still, as his was going to be one of the corpses Vossler stepped over to see the restoration of his Princess' throne, as a puppet of Empire, no less, Balthier found himself feeling something less than admiration for the man's plan.
'It burns, the Mist burns.'
Fran's garbled speech and her laboured breaths had been playing on him for the last few moments as they were marched, shackled, towards holding cells. He knew what this foretold but had precious little chance of diffusing the potentially lethal situation.
When Fran exploded into berserk motion, scattering Imperials with satisfying ease, Balthier was already wriggling his wrists free of his restraints.
'I always knew Fran disliked being restrained, I just never knew how much.' He muttered somewhat inanely and completely untruthfully when Vaan, or Penelo, or some such, started panicking about Fran.
' What of you Princess?'
He inquired coolly sidling up to her icy majesty, shaking off the restraints. He needed to know where she stood, he didn't particular relish the prospect of fighting Vossler and the Princess, should she side with her erstwhile protector.
'I like Fran's idea.'
The Princess thrust her wrists forward for him to pick the restraints and Balthier allowed himself a slight grin. Fran was caught in Mist rage and that was always terrifying to him but at least it would be six against one.
Vossler would fall and Balthier was determined to see him not get up again. Fran was out of control, in pain and would suffer for it for days after if they even survived this encounter. Somebody needed to pay for that.
Being a little too pragmatic of mind, having been raised to mathematical equations as lullabies and a laboratory for a nursery, Balthier was wary of magicks and so it came as a surprise to realise that he was summoning his own Quickening upon Vossler.
Vaan and Ashe were quick to call down their own Mist induced vengeance on the traitorous captain, especially as Fran was all but hyperventilating in a corner of the hangar bay.
Fires of War, indeed. Let the man fall to the very thing he had sought to buy his way out of. Vindictive anger surged him on even after the Quickening left him feeling drained and tired.
He barely spared the Knight a second glance as he fell under their combined assault, strolling nonchalantly over to where Fran struggled for breath and helping her to her feet. He was the only one she would allow to touch her.
' A wonderful distraction Fran, another perfect escape from captivity.'
He spoke to see if he received a reaction, a way to gauge how badly hurt she was. Fran's ears twitched and her fingers gripping tightly to his waist flexed. He allowed himself a breath of relief as he turned towards the docking bays.
' Ashe, lets go.'
He called to the motionless Princess. She stood some way between himself and Fran and the fallen Vossler, if she was to say her final words she had best be quick.
Without a word spoken to Vossler the Princess turned her back and followed after them; leaving Basch, her new protector, to hear the last confession of a newly fallen Knight.
Squeezing everyone into their stolen getaway craft he watched much as everyone else did as the Eighth Fleet imploded in a liquid spray of Mist and flame.
Deifected Nethicite.
It was Fran who explained what happened, the power of that little bauble, which reduced an entire aerial attack force to nothing more than memories.
Deifected Nethicite.
I go to Giruvegan. Care to accompany me, son?
Giruvegan, what is there?
The greatest marvels known to man, Ffamran; years of research is near fruition. I am close to getting my hands on genuine deifectedNethicite
Oh, is that all? No old man, I think I'll stay here. Shiny stones don't interest me much.
Callow youth.
Deifected Nethicite. Nothing more than memories, voices in the wind, as he recklessly steered their commandeered vessel back towards the floating lump of rock that had caused so much destruction and left not a scrap to mark the fact.
Deifected Nethicite. Fancy that. He'd been hunting down the same treasures that had so consumed his father all those years ago and hadn't had the wits to realise it.