The sunrise that was just beginning to blossom over the horizon painted the distant mountains in soft pastels. A sea of trees stretched out for miles before them, swarming around the base and climbing halfway up the range before receding into craggy, snow-capped peaks. Beneath the Strahl in flight, tall grasses gilded by the early sunlight swept and rolled in the wind, rippling like ocean waves.
Balthier had not spent much time within Rozarria's borders. It was a large territory–massive, really–and though it boasted its fair share of towns, those were mostly located along the coastline, with long stretches of unsettled land between them, and thousands of miles of rugged terrain so rarely traversed that even a small settlement would be unlikely. Even Dalmasca, with its vast deserts, had more frequent foot traffic, and therefore was peppered with tiny villages and outposts joined by well-trod paths, no more than a day's walk separating them. In Rozarria, it was easy to become lost – and those that did were rarely found.
With Fran at his side and the Strahl for shelter and transportation, he didn't feel overly alarmed. But if they were planning a trek into the jungle, they would have to leave the safety of the Strahl. The densely packed jungle would preclude flying her within, and the lush canopy above would hide any sight of the tomb they sought.
So he and Fran would be forced to leave the Strahl and proceed into the jungle on foot. But they'd likely wander aimlessly without some sort of direction, and that would never do – Balthier didn't care to leave such things to chance. First, they would need to track down Vaan and coerce what information they could out of him.
Balthier overrode the Strahl's autopilot, kicking her back into manual and setting a minute adjustment to their course that would take them skimming along the edge of the Oenalian Sea. In all likelihood, Vaan would be found in one of the port cities. As Balthier figured it, he could eliminate many of the cities straight off; most would be too far south to suit Vaan's purposes. He would need to stock up his provisions and assemble a crew, both of which were far easier to do in the larger cities. If he were wise–and Balthier sincerely hoped that the last five years had matured the irritating youngster significantly–he would seek out a crew amongst those living closest to the jungle, those who might've ventured there before.
That narrowed down the choices considerably, bringing the options down to only a few cities. With the right inquiries made at the right places, Balthier was willing to bet he and Fran would have Vaan run aground by nightfall.
Hidden from view on the Oenalian Sea, the port city of Galina lay on an inlet, bordered on three sides by rolling hills that gradually faded into the eastern border of the mountain range marking the edge of Rozarria. Sheltered from the elements, the climate was on the whole temperate but burdened with a surfeit of morning fog which hung over the city until the sun finally deigned to burn it off around midday. It had no Aerodrome proper, for the fog that covered the city from nightfall to noonday made it difficult to direct an airship within the city for all but a few hours. Instead it had an unofficial skyport tucked into the hills on the western border of the city, where the sky could generally be counted upon to remain clear.
Galina was at the top of the list as far as Vaan's likely whereabouts went; the dense jungle began only a few miles west of the city's border, just past the ridge of mountains that jutted up in spiky peaks. If Vaan was looking for a guide into the jungle–and he would be a fool not to–then there could be no better city in which to recruit one.
Fran's delicate maneuvering brought them to hover just above the makeshift skyport, slowly easing down into a careful landing, settling the Strahl expertly between a pair of nondescript cargo ships. She toggled switches and powered down the engines, her graceful fingers moving through the motions of shutting down the ship with a fluid, practiced flourish.
"You might inspect the other ships," she suggested mildly.
"Inspect the–" He lapsed into silence, momentarily nonplussed. Of course–this wasn't an Aerodrome, with its private docks and tight security. This was simply an open-air dock; he could stroll along the lot and search for the Galbana. "Of course," he said. "I'll inspect them at once."
Fran disengaged the doors and extended the ramp, allowing him to slip out onto the lot as she gathered her things.
The lot was populated mostly by frigates and freighters; he was looking for something much smaller, much faster. He ducked between a longship and a cutter to emerge in the back row, searching the smaller ships docked there for the lettering etched upon the hull that would give him the name he sought.
He almost missed it. But the sun glinted off the tip of a wing just barely visible behind the body of a cruiser–a clipper class airship tucked away at the back of the lot, her body buffed to a gleaming shine. And there, upon the hull: Galbana, emblazoned in silver paint.
A rush of primal satisfaction coursed through his veins; despite his overlong sabbatical rooted in a listless, inexplicable melancholy he had not been able to shake, his instincts remained sharp enough to run his quarry down in all haste.
The familiar crunch of Fran's boots upon the gravel had him whirling around, only barely smothering a triumphant smirk. "He's here," he said. "We've got him."
Fran arched a brow, and Balthier wondered if perhaps he hadn't been quite as adept at disguising his pleasure as he thought he had. But then, Fran had always possessed an uncanny ability to read people–humes in particular.
Rather than risk an untoward remark, Fran merely folded her arms over her chest and tilted her head. Finally, she said, "Galina is twice over again as large as Archades. It boasts a great many taverns and inns, in any one of which our young pirate might have taken refuge."
Balthier considered that grimly, stroking his thumb along his jaw in thought. "It's not outside of the realm of possibility that we might not cross paths with him before he leaves the city. Will you remain behind, or shall I?"
"Better that you should remain," Fran said. "Viera senses being what they are, I can track him more easily than you within the city." She touched the tip of her nose, a wordless reminder that she could sniff him out with relative ease.
"By all means." Balthier gestured to the dirt road leading down the hill into the city. "If you should find him, do bring him here."
Fran inclined her head gracefully. "I imagine you may have some questions to put to him that perhaps have little to do with the tomb we seek."
Though her tone was faintly chiding, Balthier merely raised her brows in mock innocence. "There's no such thing as irrelevant information," he said. "You taught me that."
Her lips quirked in a wry grin, just at the corners. "And if that information should concern Penelo, so much the better?"
"Quite. She, too, was once a rival of ours, if you'll recall. Best if we ascertain her whereabouts. For reconnaissance purposes, of course." He rolled up the cuffs of his shirt, settled against the Galbana's hull for a long wait.
"Of course," Fran echoed lightly. "What will you do if you find her?"
Caught off-guard, Balthier floundered for a response. He had never gotten that far in his imaginings. He had only wanted to see her, to be certain she was safe. Dreams and memories had tormented him for so many years–that piquant little face, drawn in wonder, delighted with the whole world. He had been unaccountably desolated when they had parted company so abruptly, aggrieved to have found that she had taken with her all the light, leaving the world bland and grey. Somehow he had grown accustomed to vicariously viewing the world through her lens of innocence and awe.
He had not easily settled back into normality, a reality that now seemed bleak and grim in comparison.
"I don't know," he mused. "Do you know, Fran, I think that worries me a bit–I truly don't know."
Briskly, Fran turned on her heel. "It should worry you," she said over her shoulder as she stalked away. "For it worries me, as well."
The afternoon sun might've been scorching if not for the cool breeze blowing in off the inlet. Balthier stretched, checked the time, and then readjusted his position, folding his arms behind his head to cushion it from the heated metal of the Galbana's hull.
He had been waiting perhaps three hours, watching the ships dock and sail away, ordering questions in his mind from most to least important to prepare for the inquisition he had in store for Vaan.
At the top of the list: Where the devil had Penelo run off to?
No, that would never do. The tomb–he and Fran were, ostensibly, on the trail of the treasure. Perhaps inquiries regarding Penelo could come third, or maybe fourth. Far enough down the list that he could make the question of her whereabouts seem less critical and more curious than anything else.
First, the treasure and its rumored location. Next, the likely validity of what information Vaan had managed to glean. Then Balthier might remark upon Penelo's absence, probe the boy for an explanation.
Moments later, the crunch of gravel and irritable muttering alerted Balthier to someone's approach. Two people–while the muttering was distinctly masculine, Fran's ears bobbed along over the prow of the cruiser. He jerked his pistol from its holster, leveling it at the end of the row, where she would soon emerge with her quarry.
Vaan was thrust suddenly into Balthier's line of sight, scowling as he rubbed at his ear. Balthier suspected Fran had, until recently, held the boy's ear in a tight pinch that Balthier himself knew only too well from his younger days.
He drew back the hammer of his pistol, the resounding click stilling Vaan's movements as he drew to a sudden halt.
"Going somewhere?" Balthier inquired blithely.
Vaan whirled to flee, but Fran had already rounded the corner, her arms folded as she silently shook her head in warning.
"Aw, hell," Vaan sighed. "Who called you down on me? Last I checked, my bounty was only five hundred gil. You must've fallen on hard times if that's enough to tempt you."
Balthier scoffed. "Five hundred? And what are your crimes, then–jaywalking? I've yet to turn bounty hunter, and I certainly wouldn't do it for a measly five hundred. I'll reassess when you've earned yourself a respectable bounty."
Vaan bristled with indignation. "I'm just careful, is all," he protested. "Can't add to my bounty if they don't know I was ever there. What do you do–leave a calling card?"
"Hardly. But over a long and illustrious career, we have acquired a certain reputation." Balthier shrugged. "The Queen and Emperor saw fit to cancel our bounties upon their ascension to their respective thrones. They might have meant well, but I was rather put out–it's decreased our notoriety drastically. I assure you, prior to that incident, we were worth significantly more than a pitiful five hundred."
"Balthier," Fran chided impatiently. "We've more important matters to attend to than talk of bounties."
Vaan glanced between the two of them, baffled. "If you're not here to drag me in, why are you here?"
As Vaan no longer seemed to present a flight risk, Balthier tucked his weapon back into its holster and shouldered away from the Galbana to stalk towards Vaan. As he came within reach, he reached out to snag the edge of Vaan's lapel, dragging the younger man close to snarl, "Where is Penelo?"
He heard Fran sigh, saw her out of the corner of his eye touching her palm to her forehead, shaking her head in consternation. Damn. It had just slipped out–he'd meant to shake the tomb's location out of Vaan, truly.
Vaan blinked and at last wrested himself out of Balthier's grip, sullenly straightening his jacket. "That's what I'd like to know," he muttered. "What the hell d'you think I'm doing all the way out here, anyway? Enjoying the weather?"
Too late to retract his foolish question; Balthier could only forge ahead. "We had heard you were scouting a tomb–do you mean to say you are in fact searching for Penelo?"
Vaan gestured vaguely. "Oh, the tomb. Yeah, I'll get to it eventually. But I can't risk it alone, and I've been without a partner for three years since Penelo ran off to get married."
The breath whooshed from Balthier's lungs as if he'd been punched in the gut. "Married?"
Vaan's brows drew together; he surveyed Balthier's horrified face with frank interest. "Yeah, to some Archadian asshole. I never liked him–shady sort, if you ask me. Pen and I had a falling out here in Galina, and she went home with him to Rabanastre. Of course, when I heard about the tomb, I figured it was the perfect excuse to catch up with her. But apparently she never made it back to Rabanastre at all. She's been missing since we cut ties." He dragged a hand through his disheveled sandy hair, blowing out a frustrated breath. "My intel says she never made it out of Rozarria."
"And since your search began, you've discovered...?"
"Nothing. It's like she's dropped off the face of the world." Vaan's eyes narrowed. "Why should you care? We've seen hide nor hair of you two in a handful of years."
But Balthier had seen them–briefly, in the eaves of the warehouse as they'd whooped and hollered the day he'd stolen back the Strahl. He and Fran had been assumed dead for the better part of a year; he had been oddly charmed to see the chagrin at finding the Strahl gone melt into abject joy as Penelo had eagerly read the note he'd left hanging in its place. She had shrieked for Vaan, and they had laughed and shouted and bounced around like a pair of overgrown children–until Penelo's merriment had given way finally to a flood of tears, as she threw her arms around Vaan and wept with relief.
"We, too, had heard of Penelo's disappearance." Far sooner than Vaan had, it seemed. "Owing to our history, we thought to aid in her recovery–" he ignored Fran's snort disguised as a cough "–and lend our assistance."
"By dragging me out of a tavern by my ear?" Vaan snapped with a glare in Fran's direction. "That's what you call help?"
"Until now, you were our only lead." Balthier pinched the bridge of his nose. "How could you let her run off? What do you know about the man she left with?"
"I couldn't exactly stopher, now, could I? She was of age; she wanted to go with him." Vaan heaved a sigh. "Never knew too much about him. His name was Raen, and he had a shifty look about him."
"And Penelo never noticed his...shiftiness?"
"Penelo always tries to see the best in everyone. You'd think being a street kid would've beaten it out of her, but she's still a shit judge of character." Vaan cast a speaking glance at Balthier. "She liked you well enough, after all."
Balthier had never particularly noticed that; she had always seemed to treat everyone to the same effervescent, ever-present friendliness. But clearly whatever Vaan had seen in it was enough to merit that suspicious look.
He cleared his throat and said, "Suppose we work together, then. With two ships we can make short work of it."
Vaan shrugged, scratched at the back of his neck. "I've covered the southern border already," he said. "Been working my way north for a solid month, hitting every town on the map. I can't help but think she either doesn't want to be found, or..." He let the unfinished thought speak for itself.
"She's not dead," Balthier snapped.
"Yeah, you think so?" Vaan fired back. "Ashe hasn't heard from her. Larsa hasn't heard from her. Basch hasn't heard from her." He ticked them off on his fingers. "I can't find a single person who's so much as seen her from a distance in three years."
"So she doesn't want to be found," Balthier retorted. "I've never let that stop me from tracking someone down, and I don't intend to begin now. Are you in? Or must I simply extend your regrets to Penelo when I find her?" He folded his arms over his chest. "I'm not altogether certain she'll be eager to kiss and make up with you when she learns you gave up so easily. With me, on the other hand..."
Though he had made the intimation simply to goad Vaan into compliance, Balthier had not expected quite the vitriol that resulted. Vaan's spine snapped straight with outrage; he pulled back his fist and growled, "You son of a–"
Fran caught his fist before it could fly, curling her claws around his arm to press it back down. "You humes, so quick to anger and so much given to violence." She sniffed disdainfully. "Let us not come to blows unnecessarily. It bodes ill for an alliance."
Vaan shrugged off Fran's hold and speared Balthier with a vengeful glare. "Maybe I couldn't save her from Raen, but I'm sure as hell not going to leave her to you," he said."I never liked the way you looked at her."
Baffled, Balthier canted his head one side. "And how did I look at her?" he inquired, genuinely curious.
"Like you were a wolf and she was a fluffy little bunny," Vaan spat. "Like you'd pounce on her, given half a chance."
Balthier's brows lifted in astonishment. He risked an inquisitive glance at Fran, but she only shrugged, her face arranged in that practiced neutrality she had long since perfected. Strange that she had not actually denied the charge. Unsettling, really.
He brushed off the irritation that Fran's disloyalty had caused, cleared his throat and said, "You were mistaken. I assure you, I have no nefarious intentions where Penelo is concerned."
Vaan scoffed, rolling his eyes in patent disbelief. He shoved one hand in his pants pocket, and raked his free hand through his shaggy hair. "You think I'm stupid or something? I know you; you can't pull one over on me with that bullshit." His voice lowered to a menacing growl. "Let's just be clear. You'll keep your filthy hands to yourself."
Balthier had never been one to follow orders from anyone–save Fran, when the situation merited it–and was more than a little irked at Vaan's disinclination to take him at his word. Rather than attempting to pacify the volatile boy, he opted instead to fuel Vaan's rage yet further. "If you truly believe me to be a threat to her, well...you had better hope that you get to her first."
With an inarticulate sound of rage, Vaan launched himself again at Balthier. Fran heaved a sigh, snagged Vaan by the neck of his vest, and dragged him back. With a long-suffering look aimed at Balthier, she inquired, "Was that necessary?"
"No. But it was fun." He couldn't help himself, really. Vaan was simply too easy to provoke. If the boy intended to cast out unjust accusations, he could damn well take whatever Balthier cared to dish out in return. "Let him go, Fran. He knows he's better off with us than against us."
Against her better judgment, Fran released Vaan even as he struggled in her hold. Propelled forward by the momentum of his formerly futile efforts to dislodge himself from Fran's grip, he swung wildly at Balthier, who easily blocked the reckless attack. He took advantage of Vaan's surprise to maneuver himself out of the way, twisted Vaan's wrist behind his back, shoved the younger man's face against the hot metal of the Galbana's hull, and pressed hard enough for the strain on his wrist to make Vaan yelp in pain.
"You ought to know better than that," Balthier chided. "Have you learned nothing in the years that have passed? Never let yourself be goaded into an emotional response."
"Get. Off." Vaan snarled the words, but they were garbled, forced out between clenched teeth and a cheek that was still firmly shoved against the ship.
Balthier tugged on Vaan's wrist, eliciting a hissed expletive. "When I can be reasonably certain that you won't attempt any further equally idiotic attacks," he said. "Surely you must see the merit in allying ourselves with one another. The Strahl's faster by far than the Galbana; we can cover ground more quickly."
"I don't need your help!" Vaan snapped.
Balthier pressed on Vaan's captured wrist until the younger man fell silent, breath hissing through his teeth as he breathed through the pain. "You might not. Penelo, on the other hand, very well might. Will you hold onto your pride at the expense of her safety?" He leaned in and applied more pressure, wrenching Vaan's wrist higher.
"Okay! Okay," Vaan howled. "Gods, just let go already!"
Balthier held for a moment longer, until Fran huffed and said, "Balthier. I believe you have made your point clear."
Reluctantly, Balthier released his hold on Vaan and stepped back a pace, his hand going unerringly to the handle of his pistol in the event a quick draw might be required. But Vaan only groaned and flopped around to brace his back against the hull of the Galbana as he gingerly flexed his aching hand, trying to restore feeling to it.
"Then we're in agreement," Balthier said. "Fran, you'll accompany Vaan aboard the Galbana."
"What? No–I don't need a babysitter," Vaan replied.
Balthier clenched his teeth against an unwise retort and pinched the bridge of his nose. After a quick, sharp exhalation, he gritted out, "The Strahl has a significant speed advantage on the Galbana. Fran's heightened senses will aid in mitigating the Galbana's shortcomings. We'll conduct our search more efficiently if she travels with you rather than me."
"There's nothing wrong with my ship!" Vaan protested.
Fran folded her arms over her chest and tipped her head to the side as she scrutinized the Galbana. "She's a base model," she said. "Respectable, but not remarkable. Unless you have had her modified, she is merely a means of transportation."
Though Fran hadn't intended the words as criticism, Vaan had clearly taken them as such. Balthier caught Vaan by the shoulder and squeezed. "The Strahl is a military prototype," Balthier stressed. "She's got modifications unavailable to civilians. Heat-sensors, stealth cloaking, and spy technology just to name a few. Her systems can track moving targets from miles away–a feature we've had little use for lately, as Fran's vision is just as good. You need Fran to make up the difference."
Vaan shrugged out of Balthier's hold and gritted out, "Fine," between clenched teeth.
"Good." Balthier took a step back, and said, "Fran, you have the Strahl's frequency codes. I shall rely upon you to maintain communications." This, with a pointed glance at Vaan, whom Balthier trusted roughly as much as the obnoxious whelp trusted him. Which was to say, not at all.
Fran placed her hand squarely in the center of Vaan's back and shoved him towards Balthier. "I will collect my things," she said to Balthier. "Best if you watch him until I return."
"No need," Balthier responded. "I expect he's intelligent enough to know when he's been outmaneuvered." He clapped Vaan on the shoulder, inciting a guttural growl from the younger man.
"Why even bother tracking me down?" Vaan snarled. "If the Strahl is so much better, I mean."
"You know Penelo best," Balthier said. "Your insight is just as valuable as my ship." He stretched his arms above his head, a lazy, fluid gesture conveying his lack of fear that Vaan posed any sort of threat to him. "We want the same thing. There's no need to pit yourself against us on principle; in this matter, we're better allies than enemies."
Vaan's gaze flitted away uneasily. "I used to know her," he said. "When we were kids, I knew her. I haven't even seen her in three years." He raked his fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, hunching his shoulders. "Even before that, somewhere along the way, I stopped knowing her. Or maybe she stopped being the Penelo I knew."
Balthier thought back to the effervescent, exuberant child she had been, considered how their myriad tribulations had failed to dampen that vibrant spirit. In his mind she was eternally that laughing girl, suffused with endless delight over something as simple as falling snow.
"Come, now," he said. "How much could she have changed?"