The Fete
                                        ~ Rabanastre, Two Years Later ~

     It was a quiet, peaceful night for the fete.  Guards stood watch as always, but there were more than usual since the High Consul was finally in Rabanastre.  So far, there were no uprisings or violent rebellions.  On the contrary, the people of Dalmasca finally seemed relieved to have a leader back in the city – even if it was a sworn enemy.
     Balthier and Fran took this joyous occasion as a golden opportunity.  More guards did not necessarily mean thieving was more challenging; one just had to know where to look.  
     “Everyone will be upstairs,” Balthier explained, “and nobody will be down in the sewers and its connecting canals, to put it elegantly.  All the riches and trinkets brought for the Consul’s fete tonight will be put in one room – the treasure room in the palace – and I have an old map that will show us how to get there.”
     “You make it sound almost elementary,” Fran said.
     “Quite,” Balthier replied coolly.  “Because it is.”
     “Somehow I doubt this.  I have a feeling that more will become of us tonight if we go through with it.  Are you sure about the sewers?”
     “Losing your nerve?” Balthier teased.
     “Far from it.  It’s just too easy.  And it’s so quiet around here,” Fran observed.  “I would have expected a few more outbursts or delinquencies, but there is nothing.”
     “You’re probably right.  Let’s just blow the whole operation and go elsewhere to find our goodies.  Rabanastre has nothing to offer us.  I feel almost sorry that I flew my airship all the way over here in the first place.”
     He was mocking her.  He let out a grin and Fran put her hand on her hip.
     “Come on, Fran.  This will be fun.  What good is the leading man if he can’t have some adventure?”
     “You’ll go even if you suspect a trap?”
     “My dear girl, if it was a trap, it wouldn’t be set for us.  Both you and I know that.”
     Fran nodded.  There were whispers that once the High Consul finally took his position in Rabanastre, the few insurgents that were left would try to strike him down.  It was just a matter of when.  They remained hidden, but the Imperials knew that the rebels would come out sooner or later.
     “You’re talking about a diversion?” Fran asked.
     “No better time to steal the cheese when the cat’s looking the other way.”
     “Do you think the insurgency will strike tonight?”
     “If they wanted to go out with a bang, I’d have it no other way.  It’s the first night the Consul is in town, and a fete is being held in his honor.  Why wouldn’t they strike?”
     “I still do not like this, Balthier.  We could get caught in the crossfire.”
     Balthier sighed.  “Fran, Fran.  We’re going to slip away from under their noses!  I would love to see some crossfire!  Like I said: the leading man needs some action.”
     Fran shook her head, grinned, and conceded.  Balthier was always like that – mysterious whenever he wanted to be, but he snagged his audience every time.  He liked to create unnecessary suspense, and even on occasion called himself the “leading man,” as if he were really an important character playing the major role in life.  He was also a cad – a philanderer who flirted with whomever he wanted, whenver he wanted, and on top of that, his personality dealt a great deal of sarcasm and wit.  He came off as cynical, but on the contrary he took advantage of every opportunity that came across his path. She started up the small hovercraft, put it in gear, and straddled it.  Balthier loaded his gun, got on behind her, and they exited the small workshop behind the Aerodrome into the back alleys of Rabanastre.
     Once they reached the castle, Fran turned the hover off and it slid sideways to a stop.  Balthier jumped off and they hid the craft behind a large bush.  The castle was in the middle of the city, and two walkways led up onto each side.  A large garden and fountain were in the middle of the courtyard.  Great pillars lined the walkways and a wide, long staircase led up to the front entrance of the castle.  The walkways were at least a quarter of a mile, so the front doors of the palace were a long way.  Four guards were at the entrance – two on each side of the walkway – and four more were on patrol up and down the walkways.  They hadn’t yet seen Balthier or Fran since it was dark, and Fran stopped the hovercraft right before the walkway entrance.
     Frogs were croaking and the water from the fountain splashed peacefully, and every now and then there was the clink of armor from the patrolmen, but the sky was clear and it was a perfect night for thieving.
     “Now what?” Fran asked.  “Where is this secret doorway?”
     “There’s a door close by somewhere,” Balthier said in a low voice, “that will lead us to Lowtown.  There’s an entrance into the sewers from there, and after that it’ll be a snap to get into the palace.”
     “Why are we leaving the hovercraft here?”
     “If we left the hovercraft by the Lowtown entrance, it’d get stolen for sure.  We’re bound to exit out of the palace.  I know we won’t be able to go back the way we came.  This will be our escape route.”
     Fran nodded and took her bow and quiver from the hovercraft, and they headed to Lowtown.
     The Lowtown slums were the same as they had always been ever since the war.  After Archadia had victoriously slaughtered the armies of both Nabradia and Dalmasca, the Imperials that took over the city moved most of the Dalmascans to the lower levels.  Some say it was to prevent rebellions, others say it was for the Dalmascans’ safety until the war was officially over.  However, two years had passed, and the Lowtown occupancy grew instead of declined.  It was getting more and more expensive to live above ground and more neglecting below it.  The Imperials maintained control as long as the Dalmascans remained rounded up in one spot.
     Beggars and orphans lined the hallways of the underground city, and there was a foul smell coming from every direction.  Rotting food, stray dogs, and occasional human waste were only a few of the things that were part of Lowtown.  The orphans made up most of the Lowtown population.  Most of their fathers had been killed in the war, and most of their mothers had either died of heartbreak, plague, or were working most of the time in the upper Rabanastre city to try to provide.  It was a sad sight, but Balthier tried to push it into the back of his mind and focus on the task at hand.  Fran, however, was receiving lots of stares and grew agitated.
     “Don’t mind them, Fran.  It’s not every day these people see a Viera.”
     “They’ll talk and we’ll be caught.”
     “Will you stop being so pessimistic?  You’re depressing me.”
They continued down the Lowtown alleyways until they reached a small door, surrounded by old wooden boxes.  The label on the door said “Storeroom 5.”
     “This is it!” Balthier exclaimed.  He opened the door and found a young boy standing in front of another door to the left.  The room was filled with boxes and crates.
     “Kytes, my dear boy, is this the way in?” Balthier asked the boy.
     “Sure is, mister.  It was pretty tough to open, but I managed.”
     “Good lad.  I knew I could count on you!”
     Kytes beamed and put his hands on his hips.
     “After you, Fran.”
     Fran stepped forward, but Kytes put his hand up in front of her.  “Hang on a second – what about my payment?”
     “Of course, Kytes, wouldn’t have dreamed of ripping you off.”  Balthier took out a silver coin and flipped it toward Kytes.  Kytes examined it, smiled, and shoved it into his dirty pocket.  
     “Okay!  You can go!  This is the second time I had to try to open this stupid door for someone.”
     Balthier cocked his head.  “What do you mean, ‘second time?’”
     Kytes was trying to wrench the latch open and grunted, “Oh, this other guy, Vaan – he’s a good friend of mine – said he wanted to get into the Garamsythe Waterway tonight during the fete, so I had a heck of a time trying to get this thing unlocked.  It sticks a lot.”
     “Another guy, eh?” Balthier was intrigued.  That meant they weren’t the only ones planning on getting into the palace.
     Fran gave Balthier a look.  He shrugged and winked at her.  She shook her head.
     The door gave a sickening creak and Kytes finally got the latch open.  “She’s all yours,” Kytes exclaimed.  “Have fun!  Be careful of the rats.  They’re all over the place.”
     Fran moaned.  “Fantastic.  Rats.”
     “My dear Fran, if you don’t cheer up, I’ll put you back on the ship and you can miss out on all the fun,” Balthier teased.
     They entered a small, dark hallway and went down some stairs.  The sound of falling water and the slight scent of mold and mildew filled the air.  However, it wasn’t musty, and it was actually a little better aired than Lowtown was.  The moment Balthier reached the bottom of the staircase, he stepped in ankle-deep water.
     “Damn,” he muttered.
     “Ruin your best shoes?” Fran teased.
     “I didn’t have this in mind,” Balthier examined his boot, “but we’ll have to make do.  Come on.”
     Fran and Balthier followed the waterway canal a while until they reached a cross section.  There were two other directions they could take.
     “What does your map tell you?” Fran asked.
     Balthier was about to pull it out when he noticed a dead rat floating in the water.  A trail of blood followed it.
     “We might not even need to use the map,” Balthier said.
     Fran followed his gaze and let out a moan.  
     Balthier grinned.  “Let’s follow the lad.  It seems he knows where he’s going.  Maybe he knows something we don’t.”
     “How far ahead of us do you think he is?”
     “I’m not certain.  We’ll just keep our pace and see what befalls us.  This will make things easier, at least.”
     “Just as well,” Fran said gruffly.  “He’s already dispatched the rats for us.”
     Balthier started to laugh and held up a rat tail.  Fran gave him a disgusted look.
“He’s not a great swordsman, to be sure,” Balthier chuckled.  “He missed his mark about five times.”  He began to swing the rat tail around and pretended as if to throw it at Fran.
     “If you chuck that at me, so help me, one of my arrows will reach your gut.”
     Balthier sighed and flung the rat tail over his shoulder.  “No sense of humor whatsoever.”
     They kept walking and followed Vaan’s trail through water, staircases, cement walkways, more water, and finally, a staircase bordered with torches.
     “This must be it,” Balthier said.  “Ready, Fran?  Our moment of truth awaits.”
     “We’ll probably have to nab it from the poor boy,” Fran said.
     “Probably,” Balthier agreed cheerfully.  “Oh well.  Let’s get on with it.”
     They entered a long hallway and Balthier stopped, flat against the wall, when he heard soldiers talking.  The hallway was a T-junction, so they could go either left or right.  Inching towards the edge, Balthier peeked around the corner to the left, and Fran did the same to the right.  There were no troops to the left, but something was glowing, and Balthier knew it was the secret entrance.  It had already been engaged.
     Fran motioned with her head that there were troops to the right.  Balthier nodded and reached into his bullet pouch.  He took two bullets out and tossed them behind the soldiers.  
     An immediate reaction of “What was that??” and “It’s probably that boy again!” followed shortly after, and the moment their backs were turned, Balthier and Fran ran swiftly towards the secret entrance.
     Once they were through the door, they were in another small room.  It was very dark and Balthier lit a match.  Fran, who didn’t even need the match, searched the walls with her keen eyes and then at the floor.  She examined wet footsteps that went to the right…backtracked…then went straight…shifted to the left…
“Here,” Fran said.  She stepped forward and felt the wall.  There was an indentation, so she pushed it in, and a clicking noise made Balthier snap his head to the right.  He stepped forward, and all of a sudden the wall opened up.
     “Very nice, Fran.  Let’s move.”
     They both entered the treasure room and found Vaan.  He hadn’t noticed them; his back was to them and he was holding something orange and glowing.  Balthier looked at Fran and nodded.  It was the exact same thing they were after.
     “Quite a performance,” Balthier said.
     The boy, startled, swung around and balled his fists.  In one hand he held the Magicite crystal.
     “Who are you?” he demanded.
     “Why, I’m the leading man, of course.”  Balthier grinned coyly.
     The boy didn’t share in Balthier’s game and set his jaw.  Fran stepped up beside Balthier and put her hand on her hip.
     “Fran, the Magicite, if you please.”  Balthier eyed the rock held in the boy’s hand and nodded towards it.
     Fran stepped forward and held out her hand.  She was at least three feet taller than the boy.  “Now then, I’ll take that.”
     “No, you won’t!”  The boy backed away and a menacing look was on his face.  “It’s mine – I found it first.”
     “And then when I take it from you, it will be mine,” Balthier said impatiently.
     Balthier usually handled these sort of situations with a calm and collected mood because he dealt with idiots most of the time and it was pointless to get angry.  In this circumstance, the boy was clearly inexperienced and he could take the Magicite anytime he pleased.  Even though he was fully annoyed, Balthier remained casual and confident in the fact that eventually, he or Fran would just flick Vaan’s earlobe and steal the Magicite when he wasn’t looking.
     Vaan was about to retort something back when a sudden yell and the sound of armor and swords filled the entire chamber.  Troops were being called to deal with intruders, and Fran and Balthier looked away towards the commotion.  They had automatically thought that they’d been caught.
     Fran looked back towards Vaan.  “Balthier!” she exclaimed.
     Balthier turned around to find that Vaan was already gone.  The entrance was gaping open.  He sighed.  “And exit stage right.”
     “The Gods do not smile upon us,” Fran said grimly.
     “What’s the matter, Fran?  I like it better that way!” Balthier grinned and started running after Vaan.
     The front entrance to the treasure chamber led Balthier down a grand hallway and then up two flights of staircases.  The entire area had been emptied due to the “intruders.”  Balthier began to realize that they weren’t the ones being searched for, and had reveled in his plan; it would have been absolutely perfect if not for this blonde upstart he was chasing after now.
     The two long staircases led to another long hallway, and then Balthier followed Vaan off to the right.  Vaan barreled through large double doors and out onto the upper tier of the outside entrance of the castle.  Balthier was even more impressed with himself.  They were now right above their escape route, and the courtyard was down to his right as they ran out of the palace.
Without stopping, Balthier pointed to his left, and Fran nodded and jumped off the upper tier into the bushes.  It was a long way down, but she was tall and nimble and could handle the drop.
     Vaan stopped ahead of Balthier and looked over the ledge to his right.  Balthier suddenly realized the commotion around them.  He did the same and noticed the Imperials fighting with insurgents in the courtyard.  Suddenly, a large bolt of fire flew past Vaan and exploded into the courtyard, killing both insurgents and Imperials.  Balthier looked up and saw an airship.
     “Ah, the Ifrit!  What’s she doing here?  Making her grand entrance, no doubt,” Balthier said to himself.  He looked towards the fight again, and then back up to the Ifrit.  His expression grew grim.  “Impeccable timing, as a matter of fact.  If I didn’t know better, I’d say they were waiting all along…”
     His attention turned to Vaan again, who fell over from the strike, stumbled back up, and looked at Balthier.
     “Well?  There’s nowhere to go…” Balthier stopped short of his speech when Vaan turned and started to run again.
     “Stop running!” Balthier growled in exasperation.  Suddenly, Vaan’s path was blocked by Fran on the hovercraft.
     “End of the line!” Balthier’s tone grew annoyed.  “You have something that belongs to me.”
     The boy gripped the stone and took a step backwards.  It was within Fran’s reach, but she looked up and her expression made Balthier turn around.  Soldiers had spotted them and they were running across the upper tier.
     “Damn!” Balthier swore.
     The soldiers were closing in, and there was only one way to go.
     Balthier pursed his lips and looked at Fran.  “Fran, let’s move!”  
     Suddenly, he grabbed Vaan and shoved him over the ledge.  “Off with you!” He yelled.  Vaan screamed and started to flail as he flew off.  Jumping after him, Balthier managed to grab his arm and Fran flew under them, catching Balthier in his seat with Vaan dangling behind.  Balthier yelled out loud as Vaan’s weight yanked his arm down, and he tightened his grip so he wouldn’t drop him.
     “Let me go!  Let me go!”  Vaan yelled.
     “Keep this up, and I will!” Balthier roared back.  “Quit struggling!”
     The weight of the trio began to bog the hovercraft’s rear, and Vaan’s kicking and screaming did not help.
     “I’m going to kill him,” Balthier said under his breath.
       The hovercraft started to swerve violently.  Fran struggled to maintain control.
     “Fran!  What’s wrong??” Balthier grabbed onto her waist to keep from toppling over with Vaan.
     “I don’t know!  It’s not heeding me!”  Fran frantically pushed buttons and flipped switches, and her feet kept pushing down on pedals to give the hovercraft energy, but the machine started to shake and lose altitude.
     “I don’t have time for this!” Balthier growled.  Vaan continued to yell and tried to pry loose of Balthier’s grasp.
     They were still going at full speed, but they were heading back towards the side of the palace and sinking fast.  Fran knew they were going to crash, so she aimed towards the blown-apart courtyard, in a spot where the Ifrit had fired, because she knew that there had to be a water source leading to the fountain, and hopefully the waterway was down below.
     “I’m slipping!” Vaan yelled.
     Balthier looked ahead and knew where Fran was headed.  “Not good!” he grunted.
     In an instant, the three crashed through the crumbling courtyard floor, back into the Garamsythe Waterway.  As the hover broke through the barrier, the three riders flew off into the water.  With a spark and a small explosion, the hovercraft short-circuited and broke apart.
     They had fallen a long way, but the commotion above didn’t seem to stop.  Luckily for the thieves, the Imperials were far too busy to deal with the insurgency than to notice a random hovercraft crash.
     Fran was the first to stand; she got on her hands and knees and then lifted herself, using a wall as support.  She walked over to Balthier, who was lying on his back and staring straight ahead.  
     “Are you all right?”
     “Never better.  That was very good driving, I must say.  But it just proves my point even further on why I am the Captain of the Strahl, my dear.”
     Fran shook her head.  “You’re mocking me.”
     “I would never.”
     She helped Balthier get up and he held up his arms, dripping wet, and stared at himself.
     “Ugh.  Covered in who-knows-what.  Wondrous.”
     “Be thankful that you are alive,” Fran said.
     A soft groan made them both look towards Vaan, who was slowly getting up and rubbing his head.  He still had the orange Magicite firmly gripped in his hand.
     “All right there, lad?”
     Vaan didn’t say anything, but he nodded.
     Fran walked over to what was left of the hovercraft and examined the engine.  “Strange,” she said.  “It wasn’t a malfunction; the glossair rings didn’t just drop.  It was as if they just…disappeared.”  
     They both stared at the orange crystal that Vaan was holding.  There was a short pause.
     “Forget it,” Balthier said gruffly. “It’s just as well.  Even if we could fly, the Ifrit is out there playing with fire, and I’d rather not get burned.  Guess we’ll have to go the old-fashioned way.”  He looked around at the canals and surrounding waterways.
     Fran noticed that Vaan was staring at her, so she stood up and stared back.  Vaan looked at the ground.
“Not many Viera where you come from, thief?”  Balthier asked.
     “The name’s Vaan,” the boy replied huffily.  He looked at Fran.  “…Sorry.”
     Balthier shrugged.  “Well, Fran is special, I admit.  In that she’d deign to partner with a Hume.”
     Fran grinned at Balthier and put her hand on her hip.  “Oh?” She replied in a mocking tone.  “Like a sky pirate who chooses to steal through the sewers?”
     “Pirates?” Vaan asked, suddenly interested.  “You guys are sky pirates?  Does that mean you have an airship?”
     Balthier narrowed his eyes and looked at Vaan.  “The name’s Balthier,” he mocked.
     Vaan remained silent and stared at Balthier.
“Listen thief – Vaan,” Balthier said in an impatient tone, “We’d best get out of here to avoid any more trouble.  As for the time being, it seems wise we should team up and combine forces if we want to make it out of here alive.”  His tone grew more serious.  “If you ever want to see your home again, you’ll do exactly as I say.  We’re going to be working together now, understood?”  Balthier eyed the Magicite.
     Vaan noticed, and hid it behind his back.  “Don’t even think that you’re getting this.”
     “The thought never crossed my mind.”
     The trio made their way back through the canals toward Lowtown.  Balthier made pithy comments about his wet boots, Fran scolded him, and Vaan remained silent for the most part, except when he asked about airships.  Balthier was brief in his answers to Vaan, or he did not answer at all, because he didn’t want to give too much away.  He had been through enough ordeals with this boy to rid him as soon as he could, and he wasn’t interested in making friends.
     “Balthier,” Fran said softly to get his attention, and she pointed to three dark mounds floating in the water.  Bodies.
     Vaan stood over them.  “Who…?”
     “Insurgents,” Balthier replied grimly.  “Most like they thought to take advantage of a lax watch while the fete’s on…”  He knelt down and picked up a sword.  “…and to feed the good Consul a length of steel for his supper.  I should think Vayne is used to such hospitality.”
     Balthier stood back up and put his hands on his hips.  He disliked the situation more and more, and he gave Fran a concerned look.  Pacing back and forth, he began to think aloud.
     “Clever…Vayne used himself as the bait to draw them near, then sent in the air brigade.  A fine, bloody banquet.”
     Vaan looked down at the bodies and sighed.  He crossed his arms and watched Balthier.  Balthier stopped pacing and looked down at the ground.  He appeared bothered, then finally let out a groan.
     “I daresay I’ve soiled my cuffs.  If a dungeon’s waiting for us at the end of the night, it’d best have a change of wardrobe.”
     Fran smirked.  It was Balthier’s way of maintaining his cool visage under pressure.  He always used puns to cover up his frustration, and in this case, they were getting deeper and deeper into something they’d rather not be a part of.  All they wanted was the Magicite; instead they got this mess.
     They continued on, and as the three sloshed through a narrow canal, they noticed that it opened wider and separated into four different waterways.  The water echoed off the walls and high ceiling, and Balthier suddenly halted.  He flattened against the wall and held out a hand, indicating that Fran and Vaan remain silent.
     Voices could be heard at the junction, and Balthier was about to turn around to avoid the clamor when he heard metal clashing together and a woman’s yell.
     Vaan heard it as well and leaped forward.  Balthier tried to grab him, but he was too late.  He looked at Fran, clenched his teeth, and ran after Vaan.
     The fight was happening on top of the canal wall; Fran, Balthier and Vaan were down in the water, so they had not been seen, but five soldiers had cornered a young woman to the edge of the waterway and were about to finish her off when she slashed out at a soldier and knocked him off the canal.
     “Who would be next?!” She demanded.
     Balthier raised his eyebrows and watched as Vaan ran up to the wall.  The soldiers were closing in, and it was obvious that she was trapped.  He crossed his arms and glanced at Fran, who was watching as well.  She glanced back and shrugged.  They were stuck in this now.
     The girl was about to strike again when Vaan yelled, “Jump down!”
     Startled, everyone looked downwards at the blonde boy standing in the water.  The girl looked back from the boy to the soldiers.
     “Hurry!” Vaan yelled.
     The girl conceded and jumped.  Vaan caught her, to Balthier’s surprise, and the four remaining soldiers immediately ran across the canal, down the stairs, into the water, and surrounded the four.
     Fran sighed.  “Our ranks grow by the hour.”
     Balthier cocked his gun.  “And our troubles with them.”
     “She’s not alone!” a ranking officer yelled to the others.  “Get them!”
     Vaan drew his sword, Fran her bow, and Balthier took aim.  Without hesitation, he shot one soldier in the face and Fran hit another squarely in the neck, just above the armor, with an arrow.  Vaan and the young woman were attacking another, and Fran quickly drew another arrow to dispatch the last one.  Balthier loaded his gun, but then looked at Fran.
     He held out his hand towards the soldier.  “Ladies first,” Balthier smiled.
     Fran grinned and the soldier was down in the water before he even knew what was happening.
     The young woman sheathed her sword and looked at the three strangers around her.
     “Are you all right?” Vaan asked.
     Trying to take advantage of the moment, Balthier tried to back away as quietly as he could.  Whoever this girl was, she was part of the insurgency, and if she was part of the insurgency, she was being hunted down.  This was a very bad ending to an already bad evening.  Fran followed Balthier.
     “Yes, thank you,” the young woman replied.
     “I’m Vaan,” he introduced himself.  “This is Balthier, and – “ Vaan turned around to introduce the two and noticed that they had already halfway succeeded in escaping.  Balthier and Fran were walking away nonchalantly when Vaan yelled, “HEY!”
     Balthier stopped, closed his eyes, and looked at the ceiling.  Fran put her hands on her hips.
     “What’s your name?” Vaan asked the girl, ignoring Balthier.
     “Amalia,” the girl replied.
     “Amalia, huh?  Nice to meet you!” Vaan said cheerfully.  Balthier almost coughed, or laughed, or both.
     “Please – there were others with me.  You didn’t see…?” Amalia asked.
     Fran walked up to her and shook her head.  “…I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
     Amalia looked at the ground.  “…No…they’ve….”
     Suddenly, the Magicite in Vaan’s hand began to glow.  It surprised all of them, and Vaan held it up and examined it.
     “What the…?”
     “Now isn’t that impressive,” Balthier said with interest.
     “I told you not to get any ideas.  It’s mine,” Vaan said menacingly.
     Balthier sighed.  “I’m afraid the jury’s still out on that one.”
     Amalia’s voice changed instantly.  “You stole that?”  She sounded almost disgusted.
     “Yeah!” Vaan answered proudly.
     “Have you finished?”  Fran interrupted everyone impatiently.  “When those guards don’t report in, they’ll come looking for us.”
     “…If they aren’t already,” Balthier added.
     Vaan looked at Amalia.  “You should come with us!  It’s better than being by yourself.”
     Amalia cocked her head upwards as if she were measuring up to Vaan.  “Very well,” she said with a flat voice.  She walked past the three into a waterway.  Her attitude immediately changed from friendly to almost haughty.  “The situation requires I accept such help as I can find, though it be from thieves.”  She glanced at them with narrowed eyes.  “I shall accompany you until I find my companions, no longer.”
     Balthier nodded.  “Good.  All the more better for us.”
     Amalia walked away, immediately taking the lead, and the three watched after her.
     “What’s wong with her?” Vaan wondered.
     “You have a lot to learn,” Balthier said, “before we even get started on your thievery.”
     “What’s that supposed to mean?”
     Ignoring Vaan, Balthier and Fran followed Amalia into the waterway, where they made their way towards Lowtown once again.
     “We’ll keep to our affairs, and she to hers,” Balthier told Fran and Vaan.  “I doubt we’ll find her wanting in valor…being such an upstanding member of the insurgence.”
Balthier was fishing, and Amalia took the bait.  He was poking around for some hints as to who this woman was, especially since the magicite had glowed in her presence, and his suspicion was confirmed when she swirled around and gave him an indignant look.
     “Resistance,” she replied.
     Balthier hardly heard her.  He knew he had hit the nail on the head.  Fran put her hand to his arm and looked at him.  He seemed he was going to be sick, but he kept pushing forward.  He looked at Fran, and Fran knew exactly what he was thinking.  This was no ordinary young woman in front of them.  They were pretty certain that they were standing before the Princess of Dalmasca.
     “I’m afraid we’ve bitten off more than we can chew,” Balthier said quietly to Fran.
     “We must keep going forward.  Maybe it won’t be as bad as we think,” Fran tried to console him.  Two sky pirates with an enormous bounty on their heads accompanying another thief and a princess, long thought to be dead, now leader of the rebellion, did not bode well.  Fran and Balthier both knew that a grim future awaited.
     “You’re right, Fran,” Balthier smirked.  “Now I’m being the pessimistic one, aren’t I?”
     Fran smiled and continued forward.
     They made their way through the wet labyrinth, fighting all sorts of creatures like rats, giant frogs, bats, and slime molds.  Balthier’s clothes got so dirty that he almost welcomed prison, as long as it meant being somewhere dry.
     “I simply can’t believe this.  I don’t think I can get any wetter than this.  You’d think water would wash off the grime.”
     “You should know better not to wear white on the job,” Fran joked.  “Your gunpowder has gotten everywhere.”
     “And this is my favorite shirt,” Balthier said back sarcastically.
     Amalia let out a noise, like an exasperated sigh, and Vaan remained silent.  He had tried to make small conversation with Amalia, like asking where she was from, how old she was, did she have any family, but Amalia would always ignore him or say something blunt like, “I’m sorry, I’m not at liberty to say.”
     Vaan eventually gave up and the party grew silent.  It was clear that Amalia did not want to spend any of her time with such riffraff, which only increased Balthier’s suspicion that she was just more than a mere insurgent.  She had to be royalty.
     They finally came upon a large gate, at least twelve feet high, with double doors.
     “Ahh, at last!” Balthier exclaimed.  “First thing I do when I get into Rabanastre is to find somewhere with a nice, hot bath.”
     Vaan pushed the gate open and they stepped through.  A small pool of water stood in the middle, and a narrow staircase to the left led up to an upper tier walkway that crossed over the water.  The walkway led to the door to Lowtown.
     “This is it, Amalia,” Balthier said, with a hint of scorn in his voice.  “We go our separate ways; but next time you get into trouble, please leave us out of it.”
     Vaan stared at Balthier, and Amalia narrowed her eyes at him.  She let out a “hmph,” and turned toward the stairwell.
     “STAND AS YOU ARE!”  A bellowing voice rang out and echoed throughout the large room.  Amalia froze.  Everyone looked up onto the upper tier, and a line of soldiers had already formed and blocked the entranceway.  They were caught.
     Balthier scanned the line and noticed a tall, sinister man walk slowly past the soldiers and look down at the prisoners.  He had long dark hair and black eyes.  He was richly dressed and his chin was held high.  It was the High Consul.
     Amalia noticed him as well, and she pulled her sword from her sheath.  Balthier quickly stepped forward and grabbed her.
     “Now is not the time.”
     He knew that if she were indeed who he thought she was, it would be better to keep her alive than to let her die like a dog in the sewers.
Amalia slowly sheathed her sword and nodded.  She stared at the Consul.
     “Arrest them,” the Consul said.
     Troops ran up and cuffed them.  Forming them in single file, they led the four prisoners up the stairwell into Lowtown.  They were back in Storeroom 5, but a large crowd began to form to catch a glimpse of the insurgents that had been caught by the Empire.  They were marched out of the storeroom and lined up.  A ranking officer was talking to the High Consul, and Amalia was trying to overhear the conversation when she couldn’t help but hear a commoner’s observation instead.
     “Who are they?”
     “They’re the thieves that stole into the palace.”
     “Is that what the commotion was all about last night?”
     Amalia’s jaw dropped.  “They think me a common thief!” She said incredulously.
     “Better than a common assassin,” Balthier retorted.
     The Consul finished his conversation with the officer and started to walk away with some escorts.  A soldier came up to Amalia, grabbed her arm, and pushed her away towards an exit.
     “These people have done nothing!” Amalia yelled to the Consul.  “Release them at once!”  The Consul ignored her and continued to walk away.
     “What are you doing??” Vaan yelled after her.
     “Shut up!  I’m thinking!”  She snapped back.  With that, she was led out of Lowtown.  Balthier shook his head and looked at Fran.  This was definitely not the way they had planned it.
     All of a sudden, a small blonde girl pushed through the crowd.  “Wait!”  She yelled.  “He didn’t know what he was doing!  You have to let him go!  It was an accident!”
     She was knocking people over and making such a commotion that two guards had to seize her.  She started to struggle, but the guards held her tightly.  “You have to let him go!  You have to!”  She yelled.  
     Balthier realized the poor girl was on the verge of tears.  Is she Vaan’s sister?  He wondered.
     “Penelo!” Vaan yelled back.  “It’s okay!”  He paused, looked at the ground, and looked back up at her, trying to be cheerful.  “I’m sorry, but that dinner will have to wait.”
     Balthier had no idea what Vaan was talking about, but he looked at Penelo and she started to cry.
     “I told you….” She trailed off.
     “It’ll be okay!” Vaan started to try to console her, but a guard yelled, “That’s enough!” and hit him on the back of the head, making Vaan fall to his knees.
     “No!  Stop it!” Penelo yelled and cried harder.  She wrenched free from the two guards and ran towards Vaan.  “Leave him alone!”
     Balthier eyed the guard behind him and noticed that he had drawn his sword; he was ready to arrest her as well, or possibly even run her through.  Before he knew what he was doing, he stood in front of the guard and caught Penelo before she could reach Vaan.  Confused, she looked up at him with tears in her eyes.
     Pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket with a cuffed hand, he handed it to Penelo and said, “Hold onto this for me, will you?  At least until I bring Vaan back.”
     Penelo wiped her eyes and took the handkerchief.  She appeared hesitant, but looked at Balthier and nodded.
Another guard grabbed Vann and roughly lifted him up.  “On your feet!”
     The guard that was behind Balthier aimed his sword at him and said, “You!  Over here!”
     Balthier sighed.  He had to put on another show for Penelo.  The calmer he was, the calmer he knew she would be.  If he acted like being arrested was an everyday occurrence, Penelo would be reassured of Vaan’s safety.  Ironically, Balthier was indeed arrested quite a bit.  “All right, all right.  Edgy, aren’t we?”
     The guards led the three out of Lowtown towards the Aerodrome.  It was already early morning; they had been making their way through the Garamsythe labyrinth all night long, and they squinted from the sunlight as they were brought outside.  Vaan was still a little groggy from the blow, and he stumbled most of the way.  Two guards were on either side of him and they were trying to keep him upright, dragging him half the time.  Balthier got shoves every now and then to maintain course, and Fran remained silent.  People stared as the prisoners were brought, one by one, into the Aerodrome.  Balthier heard whispers of “palace” and “insurgent” and “last night’s fight.”  He chuckled to himself; Amalia was worried about being mistaken for a thief, while he was worried about being mistaken for an insurgent.  They approached a small hangar that contained a transport airship; big enough to probably carry twenty on board.   They were loaded onto the ship and the door slammed behind them, leaving them alone in the darkness.