Part Three: The Blood of Kings
Act One: Dusk
Chapter One

The shadow in the stone dreamed. She dreamed of a man who lived in sorrow and dreamed of vengeance. The flickering haze of dreamscape grew blurry, then clear, as it focused in on a scene. A girl approached the man. Sophy, her name was. That meant wisdom… wisdom…

"Papa! We're ready," Sophy said as she shoved her way through the vibrant green brush. Her face was firm, her round, heather-flower eyes set with a determined glimmer. "Everyone's ready. We're going to win today, you know."

The man said nothing, lowering the blade he'd been holding up. In the solitude of this lush, green sanctuary, he'd cut himself off from his people by a wall of tangled undergrowth for a moment's reflection. But he wasn't alone… The man was never alone. The shadow stood by his side. Seeing the weariness and the worry still in his face, she reached out and touched the hilt of the man's sword.

"One sword," the shadow whispered. The man tore his eyes from the blade and met her gaze. He a firm, single nod.

"One sword, my friend."

He was ready. They were both ready. Him and his shadow.

"Where you go I go. A man is never free from his shadow."

She'd said those words to him, long ago. The man had laughed. He found them funny. That may have been the only time she ever heard him laugh…

A shadow… a sha-dow… Had she always been a shadow? Not always… She remembered the sharp pain, the crimson wetness spreading over her abdomen… The look in the man's eyes as he leaned over her, a look of shock and anger and deepening dread…

It had only been reasonable then, what she'd done. What they'd both done. But then came the fall, and the slavedrivers. The slavedrivers who denied their own blood and trampled their promises… There was nothing left but dreams.

So she dreamed. Sophy and Straks. The man and his shadow…

The shadow dreamed, of a man who lived in sorrow and dreamed of vengeance. Her dreams were his dreams. But her sleep grew restless. Someone had promised her… it would end soon. Soon, she would wake.

Soon.

Soon.

The Royal City of Rabanastre
Year 707 of the Old Valendian Calendar

Six months after Bahamut's fall

Balthier couldn't take his eyes off Bahamut. Sand crunched under his shoes and the buzz of the open-air marketplace surged around his ears, but the massive fortress claimed the pirate's full attention.

Bahamut loomed over Rabanastre like a gravestone, reaching up into the clear desert sky. The wider top caused the tower to lean to the side, its enormous glossair rings hanging around it like horseshoes. Moss and vines swarmed over every inch of it, making the ruin look like it'd sat there for a thousand years rather than six months.

Six months. The six blandest, longest months of Balthier's life.

Even if they could be easily bribed, Rozarrian prison guards oversaw a tight security. Balthier spent two of those six months in prison, until he could finally escape. Even then, it was only with the help of an unscrupulous cellmate. After that, not wanting to take an airship while the Rozarrian authorities were looking for him as an abettor of a known criminal, Balthier had offered his services as a sky pirate to a spice caravan looking to cross the Yensa sandsea.

This caravan consisted of a pair of twin brothers and their younger sister following in their late father's footsteps. Evidently, their father had worked up a considerable fortune in the work that cost him his life, and Balthier had neglected to point out that the trio was obviously overpaying him for that sort of job. Though, as it turned out, their incompetence spread beyond financial sense. The job paid well and got him across the sandsea, but after traveling through the desert for three months through mortal peril with those three, Balthier was more than happy to part with their company.

Per their agreement, Balthier said farewell to his traveling companions when they reached Rabanastre. It was from a distance he'd seen Bahamut for the first time since the day it crashed. A lake had sprung up around it, creating an oasis in the desert, the mossy ruin rising from its center. It was almost… beautiful. But to Balthier, it still looked like a looming headstone- the headstone of his grave.

But I am not dead. I'm alive and well and need to find my airship so I can get to the Salikawood and rescue Fran.

The Salikawood, in the northern part, west of a little town called Sial, underground. Balthier had rehearsed the words a thousand times. Deep down, he knew he'd kept Fran waiting, in the Red Fang's care, for nearly half a year, and that could not be good. Even further down, he ignored the doubts to whether she'd even be alive still.

Come on…

Balthier struggled in his mind to sense Strahl's presence. He'd left her with Vaan, so she should be in Rabanastre. It'd been so long, though…

There!

Balthier halted in the middle of the sidewalk and closed his eyes, straining to touch the barely perceptible presence that brushed his thoughts. He couldn't make contact, but he could just sense the presence… A reminder of his peculiarities that had been absent from his life for the long trek over the sandsea. Yet not entirely absent. Every now and then, a whisper or a trickle would disturb his night's sleep, or a thrumming, second heartbeat would rear its ugly head during some life-and-death situation. He'd managed to hold it in. However idiotic they were, Balthier had had no desire to see his three young companions ending their lives like Bergan.

I will find out why. Once Fran is safe and sound. And that will only happen once I find Strahl.

Balthier opened his eyes and started walking, keeping his gaze away from Bahamut. His eyes fell on the royal palace, standing over the roofs of other Rabanastran residences. The palace was under renovation of some kind; perhaps preparing for the upcoming coronation of Dalmasca's beloved princess?

And how has our little princess faired the last half year? Hope she's kept her head high. She'd need it, out there in politics tempest. It's been so long. She…

Balthier stopped, banishing the thought with a shake of his head. Ashe could take care of herself, most likely. He had more important things to worry about at the moment.

Balthier cast one more glance towards the royal palace, sighed, and kept walking.

By following the faint tug of their connection, Strahl's unique airship presence, and a process of trial and error, Balthier made his way to Rabanastre's less wealthy sector; it had been easier finding the Strahl in the Nalbina hangers after the battle. Eventually, he came to a small hanger bay masquerading as a warehouse; perhaps the structure had originally been a warehouse. Balthier was relatively certain his airship would be inside; besides, it looked like the kind of place a street urchin would keep an airship. Balthier found the entrance on the side: a single door under an overhang, sheltered from the desert sun. Balthier tried the door: unlocked, to his surprise.

Vaan, you must keep better security around my airship, Balthier thought as he pushed into the hanger. He stopped at the most beautiful sight he'd seen in six long months. He let out a sigh of relief.

"Strahl, old girl, it's good to be back."

"Huh…? Bal…thier!" The astonished voice came to his mind with familiar rhythm. "It's you! But… wait, it… It can't… but… but… Balthier?"

"Is there someone else who talks to you?" Balthier said, starting towards his airship; her hull shone in the light falling from above. He hadn't seen the powerful machine, or heard her small, female voice for nearly long enough. However his ability to communicate with her pricked his sense of set-apartness, it was, indeed, good to be back.

"But you're… but you… but…" Strahl spluttered. "Oh, I don't care! Balthier, it's you? You're alive! Where on Ivalice have you been for so long? Didn't you die when Bahamut crashed? Where-"

"I rigged a crude warp with Bahamut's nethicite core, and I've been very far away." Balthier cut off the ecstatic stream of words as his fingers flew over Strahl's keypad; her door slid open. "The rest is a long story better saved for a long flight. For now, we have work to do."

"What? Where are we going? And where's Fran? Balthier-"

"As I said, when we're flying, Strahl." Memory of the reason for his urgency dimmed Balthier's mood. "Unfortunately, I don't have time to dilly-dally. Fran's in trouble."

"Oh. That… might be a problem," Strahl said. "Vaan's taken good care of me and all, while you were d- while you…" Strahl shook her head and sighed. "But my engines are on the fritz. Vaan and Penelo were getting the part, and they'll be back any moment. Hey, then they could help you!"

"I'd like to avoid that, honestly," Balthier said. "I'm sure the kids have worries of their own; they don't need to get sucked into this." Balthier pondered for a moment. "You think you can make it to the aerodrome?"

"Yeah, but we're going farther than that, right?"

"Yes," Balthier replied, "but I can rig up something there that'll get us to the Salikawood. I'll worry about getting back later." Balthier started through the doorway, then paused with a sigh. "And I'll leave a note for Vaan and Penelo; I'd imagine they'd be worried. Then we have got to leave."

…

"That's it; we're off." Finally.

Balthier stood outside the Strahl, hands perched on his hips, looking over his airship one last time. The grand ship, painted white, gold, and navy blue and edged with six metal rings, glittering the morning sun.

Balthier had left the note for Vaan in the hanger, giving the quick explanation that he was alive, needed his airship back to rescue Fran, and that he wasn't to be followed- and a brief directive to send his regards to their princess. Now, the repairs were done and Balthier could finally take off for the Salikawood to rescue Fran.

If she's even…

No, Balthier thought as he strode towards the Strahl's door. He'd gone as fast as he could. Fran would be fine. She wasn't dying a lab rat just because Balthier was too slow-

"HEY!"

Balthier turned his head sharply. Behind the door on the opposite end of the hanger, the suntanned face of an eighteen-year-old boy topped by a shock of blond hair showed through the glass as he pounded the door.

Seeing he'd been noticed, Vaan shoved open the door and sprinted across the hanger. The door swung on its hinges, and behind it a girl in a dancer's suit apologized hastily to the Moogle attendant.

Vaan came to a halt a few yards away and leaned on his knees, panting. He looked like someone who'd made a long sprint in the desert sun. Balthier turned to face the kid and watched him gasp for several moments.

"Vaan, exactly what part of that note convinced you I wanted assistance?'" Balthier asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Oh… Come on!" Vaan drew in a deep breath, straightened, and wiped his forehead with an arm. "I didn't… believe it. Hey, you are alive! Where-?"

"I believe I said as much in my letter," Balthier replied. "What I didn't say was 'come chase me.' Reunions are all well and good, but I don't have time for that right now."

"Hey, you stole my airship," Vaan said with a shrug. "What'd you want me to do?"

Balthier narrowed his eyes. "Your airship?" Vaan wasn't going to joke about that.

"Uh, my… borrowed airship." Vaan rubbed the back of his head, smiling nervously. "You know, the owner'd be kinda mad if I lost her."

Balthier rolled his eyes with a sigh.

Penelo flew over from the doorway, blond pigtails sailing behind her. She stopped seamlessly and glanced between the magnificent airship and its pilot, eyes wide. "You are-! What happened to Fran?"

Balthier sighed. "That, I don't have time to explain."

Vaan shrugged. "So let's go."

Balthier gave Vaan a searing look. "I'm going. You don't have to trouble yourselves with this."

"Come on!" Vaan said. "We thought you guys were dead! The least we can do is help Fran out!"

Balthier shook his head with a sigh. How many times had he had this argument? How had it always ended? He groaned inwardly.

"Fine, then. I don't have time to argue about these things." Balthier turned back towards the Strahl's door. "If you're coming, let's be off."

Vaan grinned, then turned the smile to his sister. "Come on-"

"Oh, wait!" Penelo fumbled in her pocket, extracting a paper and pencil.

"Penelo, what are you doing?" Vaan said.

"I have to write a letter for Ashe!" Penelo replied. "Her coronation's tomorrow! We were supposed to meet her beforehand, remember? If we don't make it back in time, I need to tell her why. It won't take long."

Penelo spread out her paper on a nearby barrel and started scribbling rapidly. After several moments spent waiting, Balthier shook his head.

"Look, I'm leaving, and whoever can get on board before takeoff is welcome to lend a hand."

"I'm done!" Penelo folded the paper lengthwise, then ran up to the Moogle attendant, who'd followed her in. She shoved the paper into his paw with directions that left the little furry creature wide-eyed, then dashed back to Balthier and Vaan.

"I'm ready," she said.

"Good." Balthier marched up to the Strahl's door. He caught Vaan's eye on the way by. "And I'm driving."

…

"Where are we going again?" Vaan asked, shoving through a low-hanging limb. The leafy branch sprung back at him, and he ducked under it, grumbling.

"Just west of Sial, underground," Balthier replied.

They'd found the town of Sial, little more than a collection of tiny huts springing up on the roadway through the forest. A single inn stood at the entrance, accommodating what few travelers came through the Salikawood.

Westward from town lay off the trail, and Balthier, Vaan, and Penelo had struggled through the undergrowth for hours. Thinner branches above let rays of sunlight fall to the forest floor, unlike the dark recesses of Golmore Jungle.

"But you said one of those Red Fangs told you that, right?" Vaan said continuing the march. "You sure we can trust them?"

"No," Balthier replied, "but it's the best lead I have, so there's not much choice."

"When we do find the base, how are we going to get inside?" Penelo, marching between Balthier and Vaan, asked.

"I'll worry about that once we know what we're up against," Balthier replied.

"Well, then after we save Fran-" Penelo paused to clear her throat. "You two should come to Ashe's coronation. I'm sure everyone'd be so happy to see you."

Balthier had been pondering that course of action. "Mm," he replied, not looking back at her. "Maybe. I'll consider it."

"Well that's good, cause I… I already told Ashe you'd be coming," Penelo faltered.

Balthier looked over his shoulder with a start. "You did what?"

Penelo crumpled under his gaze. "Sorry. I just thought you'd…"

Balthier sighed and marched ahead with renewed vigor. "Look, why don't we all focus on the task at hand? And keep your eyes open; there should be something around here."

"Uh, yeah, about that…"

Balthier stopped and turned at Vaan's voice. The kid had stopped a ways back and peered around the trunk of a thick jungle tree, holding down wild ferns to get a good view. Vaan glanced at Balthier, motioned quickly, then locked his gaze back on the forest beyond.

Balthier and Penelo joined Vaan behind the tree. Penelo peeked around her brother, and Balthier looked around the other side. Seen through the branches of another massive fern, three men uniformed in blue tunics and brown cloaks stood loosely around a rather large hole yawning in the moss-covered ground.

"Ah-ha," Balthier said, keeping his voice down. "That looks promising. Good eye, Vaan."

One of the Red Fangs glanced their way, and all three yanked their heads behind the tree's ample trunk. Balthier waited several moments, and when no alarm sounded, he cautiously peeked back out. The three remained, as nonchalant as before.

"Alright then," Balthier said, drawing back into their cover. "We need to take out those guards without letting them raise an alarm." He stole another quick glance at the guards, quickly formulating a plan. "But try not to hurt them too bad. Mind that sword, Vaan."

Vaan drew the aforementioned weapon; its blade glinted in the sunlight filtering down from above. Penelo nodded and clenched her hands around her staff.

Balthier drew out his rifle. He took one last scouting glance at the three guards, then nodded to Vaan and Penelo.

"On three?" Vaan said, voice a whisper.

Balthier rolled his eyes. "Yes, on three. And do try to take them by surprise. One."

One Red Fang guard, bearing a scar above one eye, sat down on a large rock by the entrance, saying something to the others that Balthier couldn't hear.

"Two."

Balthier shifted his hand around his rifle's handle so he could swing it without bumping the trigger but shoot quickly if the need arose.

"Three."

Balthier broke from behind the tree, feet flying over roots and undergrowth. He caught one of the standing Red Fangs by the head before he could spin in surprise. Balthier cracked his head down on his knee, knocking him out cold.

Scar sprang off the rock, flashing out his short sword, and the other Red Fang spun just in time to dodge Vaan's advance. Balthier blocked Scar's overhead strike, spun away from a second blow, and caught a third on his rifle's shaft. Clenching his teeth as he held back the other man's sword, Balthier glanced at Vaan and Penelo's progress. They circled their opponent. Vaan, behind the man's turned back, waved at Penelo. She spun her heavy wooden staff over her head, hitting the man in the jaw. He stumbled back, and Vaan stuck out his leg; the man hit it and pitched backward.

Balthier shoved against Scar's stiletto and jumped back from the engagement. Scar advanced. Balthier flipped his rifle around and slammed the heavier handle end into the Red Fang's face. He gasped and lurched backward, and Balthier claimed the opening for another strike. At the second blow, Scar stumbled back and fell, still.

Balthier scanned Vaan and Penelo's situation; their man had hit his head on the rock Scar had been perched on and was out cold. Balthier breathed out a sigh, letting his muscles relax. His bad arm throbbed a protest at the action.

"Splendid work." Balthier slid his rifle into its holster and studied the fallen guards. "Now we take these uniforms and sneak inside."

"We do what?" Penelo said in horror.

"They're the ones who joined an amoral organization that kidnaps innocent Viera," Balthier replied. "I can't be held responsible for what indignities they have to suffer." He knelt by the nearest guard. "Vaan, help me."