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year 5, quarter 3
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”And you’re the one who would reap the spoils. A thief in your own right, I’d say.” Balthier fell into his chair, crossing his legs as he leaned against its back. ”A sorry state. I prefer the term ‘pirate’ myself.”
His client, a thick man with a weathered brow, plucked a coin purse from his pocket and pushed it across the table. ”I’ll call you whatever you want as long as you get the job done.”
Balthier glanced to the pouch, but didn’t take it. He made a point to never deal in larceny until he’d heard the details. ”Bold of you. This must be quite the heist.”
The man’s expression didn’t change. ”A sword. I want it by the morning.”
Balthier twisted the ring on his finger. Another day, another armament.
They’d chosen to meet in a tavern half protected by the chattering of its crowd and half protected by its less than reputable clientele. It hadn’t taken Balthier long to adjust to this country nor the people in it. So long as there were dives like this and cutthroats like the man across him, it was all more or less the same.
”By morning? Quite the deadline if I might say so myself.”
”It’s the only night it’ll be left unguarded. I don’t have the luxury to wait.” The man shifted forward and looked him straight on. ”That sword’s a special breed. Not the kind we usually get ahold of around here. It has the power we’d need to take care of a certain problem of ours. I’d pay a high price for it.”
”My my, the law catching up to you?” Balthier looked to the ceiling without interest. ”A magic sword. I can’t say I haven’t seen its type before.”
”Not magic. It’s infused with Dust straight from Sonora. Not that your kind would know anything about it.”
Balthier paused before he finally turned to face him. He’d heard that kind of talk of “Outlanders” already. ”You’re sending me into a den of smugglers,” he said with a wry smirk. ”More trouble than it’s worth, I’d say. Diamond Dust’s not something to be dealt in lightly.”
The man’s eyebrows raised in surprise before he quickly cleared his expression. ”It’s unguarded,” he said again. ”They’re moving it to a safehouse tonight. Blackwood Manor. The Blackwoods would do anything they can to avoid suspicion even if it means lacking in security.” The man rifled in his coat until he found a crinkled paper and pressed it on the table. A map. ”They have a secret vault beneath their cellar. You’d do best breaking in through the back.”
”Oh?” Balthier’s eyes pricked with interest. He sat forward and touched at the faded X scrawled at the back of the cellar. ”A secret vault, now that’s more my style. I assume the rest is mine for the taking?”
”Do what you want. I’m only after the sword.”
”Hm.” Balthier took the coin purse from the table and turned it in his hand. He felt the gil roll between his fingers like pebbles smoothed in water. ”A daring entrance. A vault of treasure. A dazzling reward. Now that sounds like a venture worthy of a pirate.”
Relief crossed the man’s face before he stifled it again. ”You’ll take the job?”
Balthier smirked with a tilt of his head. ”That would depend on the compensation.”
***
The deal went well. There was haggling to be had, negotiations, and more than a little intimidation, but he left it with the promise of ten thousand gil -- two thousand of which he was paid upfront. It was quite the job if he did so himself, and yet, he couldn't help a vague unease as the tavern door clicked close behind him.
Six weeks. That’s how long it had been since he’d woken in the hot and shifting sands. At first he’d assumed he must have crashed over the sandsea, but he’d found no sign of an airship and no landmarks to guide him. He’d trudged through the blistering sands for nearly a day before he’d found an outpost on its edges, and only then did he learn his circumstances.
These people had never heard of Dalmasca or Archadia or even Ivalice. They’d told him that his story wasn’t a new one. A rotten lot of luck he’d found for himself.
He stopped, smirking wryly as he pulled the map from his pocket. It would be a smooth cut or so his client had said. Still, his work was never that easy, and the target left him more than a little cautious. Nobles were all well and good, but he’d never had much luck when they doubled as criminals. Still, the pay had been more than worth the risk, and the thought of a cache of smugglers’ treasure…
”A cruel mistress, avarice.” Balthier rubbed at the back of his neck and continued on. There were only four more hours until dawn.
Rhea nursed a glass of cheap wine at the bar. The alcohol was just a gesture, something to make her fade into the background of the place while she listened and mused. She had lost count of the bars she had been in, over the last week. It hurt, wasting some of the few coins she had managed to scrape together in the new world on drinks she barely sipped at. But, she needed information, and there was no better place to get it than a place where people got drunk and talked loudly of current events.
She was lost, adrift. Mist was gone and with it her roots and role. Since childhood, she had always known her lot in life and the path Fate had laid out for her. Without that, she had nothing. So, she simply focused on gathering information as she tried to decide what her role was in this new world.
It was in the midst of one such musing, as she sipped and grimaced at her wine, that she overheard a man being given a mission to find and procure a certain item.
If he's so good at finding things in this world, I wonder if he could find Rydia.
The thought sent ripples through the stagnation in her mind, and she sat up. She often dwelt on memories of her time with her daughter, and wondered if Fate had saw fit to bring her to this new world as well. The thought was luminous, dismissing shadows of doubt. Perhaps it was pointless, perhaps Rhea was the only person from her world who had been transferred to this new one, but even an endless, hopeless quest was better than drifting without direction.
Her resolve firmed at the same moment the man stood and left the bar. After dropping a few coins onto the bar to pay for the wine, she followed him out.
Best to talk to him in the street, anyway. Anyone could be listening in a bar, just as she had. And, if Rydia really was in that world, Rhea didn't want random ruffians in a bar hearing about a little girl, lost and alone. So Rhea quietly tailed the man from the bar for a while. She didn't make her tailing a secret or attempt to hide herself. She just hoped he didn't take off running when he noticed his tail.
He did not, and Rhea gave a short nod of commitment when she saw him pull out a map. This felt right. She was going to do this.
"Excuse me, sir?" she called to him, closing the distance between them. She displayed both her hands, open in a gesture she assumed was universal to show she was carrying no weapons and meant no harm. "Sir may I speak with you? It will only take a moment, and I promise it will be worth your while."
Of course, she was all but penniless, but her resolve was set. Just as she had put her life on the line protecting her daughter and village before, she would put everything on the line to find Rydia again. Whatever price he asked would be cheap, weighed against being reunited with her daughter.
He hadn’t noticed it at first with his mind whirring with infiltration plans and business negotiations, but her shadow caught the corner of his eye before long. He kept his trigger hand ready and pretended not to notice, but his vigilance didn’t last long. She approached him on her own. ”Excuse me, sir?”
”Mm?” Balthier paused and glanced over his shoulder. The woman didn’t seem the type to seek out dealings with a man like him -- at least not any she’d be proud of. She had a homely air with her modest dress and unstyled hair. With her tense shoulders and straight back, she seemed out of place in their less than reputable environment, but her eyes were sharp with a kind of determination that nearly set Balthier on edge. Had she followed him from the tavern? He was certain he’d never seen her before.
”Worth my while, you say?” His lips pricked with a smirk. Despite her deadset conviction, she didn’t seem the type to step a toe outside the law. Still, in these desperate, midnight streets, he couldn’t say he hadn’t seen it before. Not twenty paces away, a beggar sat with one knee clutched to his chest, and a woman with bare shoulders had tried doggedly to make eye contact with him outside the tavern doors. Balthier raised a dismissive hand.
”As lovely as you are, I haven’t the time nor inclination for frivolities.” A callous response to a woman without options, but one he couldn’t avoid. If he’d relented to every solicitation he’d fielded on the wrong side of town, he’d have never gotten anything else done in his life.
”Perhaps you’d be better suited by the docks? A far more amiable crowd, that.” Balthier shook his head and turned away from her, starting forward again. ”Now if wouldn’t mind.”
Rhea looked shocked for a moment, not quite comprehending. Then she did, and growled in disgust and frustration. Brilliant. She couldn't have come across as more of a mindless bumpkin if she tried. Her embarrassment almost turned her away but, if anything, the man's brusque denial of that kind of offer seemed to Rhea to be an even greater indication that he was someone she could work with. Swallowing her pride, she made another attempt.
"Please wait, you misunderstand," she said, catching up with him.
She knew she had already wasted her only real chance for a first impression, so she decided to throw all her cards on the table and let fate decide the rest. Falling in step beside him, she spoke quickly.
"I know you are presently engaged in an endeavor. I would offer you my aid, free of charge. I am uniquely talented in certain arts and-..." she cut herself off with another growl of disgust. Now everything was starting to sound like innuendo to her.
Enough of this.
Dodging around in front of him to block his path, she turned her back to the road, wary of any that might be watching them. She placed one hand against her chest, flat palm pointing up toward her chin. Above her hand she called a small cloud of mist, which she quickly shaped into the image of a young girl with green hair, green eyes and a bright smile.
"This is my daughter. I believe fate may have brought her to this place, this world just like it brought me. If she is here, I must find her at any cost."
After she was sure he had gotten a good look, she closed her hand, dismissing the mist.
"As you can see, I am an illusionist," she said, the lie slipping easily from her lips. It had been a long time since she had last openly admitted to being a summoner from Mist, and it wasn't the first time she had introduced herself as something else. "I know basic magic, and am adept at handling both animals and monsters. Though I realize I am out of place in a city, I was raised in nature and am a proficient survivalist. I am also very good at keeping secrets. I believe I could be an asset to you on whatever your current quest is."
She paused, allowing a moment for it to all sink in before continuing.
"I ask for no monetary reward in exchange for my help. I only ask that you return aid for aid. Help me search for my daughter, after your current job is complete. I need your help, not just for the search, but to find my way here. I am a stranger in a strange land."
Tilting her head slightly, she stared straight into his eyes, hoping he could see the sincerity there.
Balthier raised an eyebrow as she approached him again. Aid free of charge? Talented in certain arts? He felt his eyes catch at attention even as she cut herself off in obvious frustration. She chose instead to dodge around him and stand directly in his path. He stopped to consider her, head cocked to the side.
Well this had certainly gotten interesting.
She made an odd hand motion that might have been a spell. A strange wind passed and then a cloud formed above her palm. Both of Balthier’s eyebrows raised this time as the cloud formed into a human guise -- a girl more specifically. The figure was no older than eight with the same emerald hair as the woman before him. She carried the kind of cheerful disposition only found in children, and his heart sank as the implications became apparent. Her next words were almost unnecessary. Their relation was obvious.
"This is my daughter. I believe fate may have brought her to this place, this world just like it brought me. If she is here, I must find her at any cost."
”Hm.” It wasn’t a request he hadn’t heard before, but it was one he tended to dread. Said missing persons never turned up whole if they ever turned up at all. And a girl of that age…
She didn’t give him time to decline. Instead, she dispersed the cloud from her hand and continued on with the dogged determination of a businesswoman on a catch. He couldn’t deny, her offer was an intriguing one.
”I never cared much for family,” he said. ”Or the finding thereof, but an illusionist. Now that has a certain ring to it.” He crossed his arms and tilted his head as he considered her. As much as he was loathe to admit, he was in need of a partner and he was in no position to turn down an offer when he heard it. ”Quite the eavesdropper too, I see. Well, if you know my current engagement then you’ll know it’s not the most tasteful of work. You don’t seem the type to dabble in thievery.”
He shook his head and started past her. ”But if your mind’s set, I’ll not stand in the way of a mother on a mission. If you have the mettle for it then consider your proposal accepted. A trade of rumors for aid. You never know when you might come in need of parlor tricks.” He raised a dismissive hand as he continued on. She would either follow or she wouldn’t.
”If we’re to be allies then why not a name? I’ll not ask your real one, mind. Merely a point of formality.” He glanced to her. ”Balthier. Use it as you will.”
Balthier's warning as to the nature of the work had Rhea's mouth twitching into a small, sad smile.
"I am the type that follows the path that fate sets for me. I believe we are all given roles to play, and I will play the role I am given. I believe it was fate which brought me to this world, fate that put me in that tavern and fate that-..." here she paused, the smile on her lips becoming playful, "... perhaps, caused your patron to speak a bit too loudly of things better kept secret."
Falling in step beside him, she pressed one hand to her chest. For the first time since she had arrived in this new world, she felt like she had a direction and something to take her mind off her desperate search for Rydia. She did not mind Balthier's dismissive attitude. Honestly, she was quite content to keep things as professional as possible.
"I believe you can trust in my aid, Balthier, and I hope that I can count on yours. My name is Rhea of-..." another pause, another sad smile. "... of nowhere, I suppose. Not anymore. Just Rhea."
”Fate and I have never met eye to eye. Too many restrictions, I’m afraid. A man should be free to write his own role, wouldn’t you say?” Balthier sighed and let his head tilt to the side. ”Men like those don’t know how to keep their discretion,” he said. ”A right lot of trouble it’s gotten me into.”
Still, there was something strangely satisfying about the thought. Fate. It was an almost seductive word in the right hands. Here you are. Not to worry for trifles like choice. Everything is as it is meant to be. Balthier had never seen it wielded by anyone outside the influence of a tyrant.
”Rhea of Nowhere?” Balthier mused before he glanced to the woman beside him. ”Well that’s the two of us then. I’ve heard Nowhere’s getting quite popular as of late.” Of course, Balthier had taken the title long before now, but he supposed his new circumstances had worsened the situation a tad. Had he ever heard of such a kingdom as Serentestra? Not in the slightest, but that only made the situation that much more exciting. Now if he could only find an airship…
Balthier patted down his pockets until he found the slightly crumpled map. He shoved it at her. ”Learn it,” he said. ”Those are the plans for the vault in question. We’ll make haste for the cellar. I’ll not be holding your hand.”
It would give them something to do for the rest of the walk at any rate.
Balthier had no particular interest in small chat. Instead, he took to silence as a default, only breaking it to advise her on some matter of importance. They talked routes of entry, the division of treasure (she seemed largely uninterested in it), and battle strategy should worst come to worst. ”I’ve found that most fights are won before they begin,” Balthier said. ”It’s always best to have a plan in mind. I’m a man of gunfire and magic myself.” He glanced at her. ”Black arts to be more specific. I prefer to keep my distance. I’d rather not have a sword at my neck.”
The grunge and rust of the lower quarters faded to high windows and clean brick. A series of high-roofed manors loomed on the horizon. Balthier glanced at her. ”Quiet now. Let's not make any new friends.”
He kept an eye for the manor in question and it wasn’t hard to find. The place had the family name labeled at the postbox outside -- Blackwood. Balthier stopped to consider it from a distance. It wasn’t unduly wealthy (he doubted there were any with the means in a trading town like this), but it certainly wasn’t anything to scoff at. He counted three floors and at least a dozen windows. There was a balcony on its eastern side and trelise for ivy near the front though the entrance grounds were problematically wide and without cover. A line of ornamental shrubbery split the manor from its neighbor property and Balthier nodded to it before starting behind it at a crouching pace. He didn’t bother checking for the woman behind him.
Balthier’s stomach sank as they reached the back. Footsteps. He stopped and peaked once over their cover to find two men lurking near the door. While they weren’t in uniform, they kept an obvious vigil over the grounds and the lack of cover therin. Balthier’s lips soured. ”So much for unguarded.”
Rhea listened to Baltheir's responses with interest, and allowed for silence when it was obvious he wished it. There was plenty to occupy her mind, beyond conversation with a stranger. If anything, she appreciated the professional distance being kept between them. This was a simple transaction. She even allowed him to give her directions on being silent and following along. To be fair, though she may have been much more at home than him in the wilds or a cave, he did hold himself much more naturally than she in the city. Unconsciously, she began to mimic his way of moving. She was a quick study.
The map was of only passing interest to her. She would be hopeless indoors, and intended to rely almost entirely on Baltheir's back to show her the way. At his statements on his preference for tactics, she nodded.
"Yes, I've always found magic to be quite a useful solution to just about any problem," she said.
Then she gave him another look. In her world, those who used magic were scholars who spent years studying for the chance. Of course, some natural talent was involved, but Rhea's image of magic-users had them all as book-ish types like her husband, or researchers like herself. If this Balthier could use magic, he certainly didn't seem the type. She decided not to ask, or press the issue, though. She would not want him asking after her specifics either, so she respected his privacy.
When they arrived at the destination, she shared Balthier's consternation at the guards, but it was short-lived. This was fate, as all things were. No sense cursing it, best just to deal with it. She remembered a tactic she had used some years ago. A quick calculation of the odds of success came up good, so she started preparing.
First, she very slowly called on a screen of mist to arise in the area.
"I'll have the mist come in very slowly," she explained to Balthier, quietly. "I've studied normal fog movement patterns and can mimic natural fog to the extent that the guards shouldn't be able to tell it's unnatural. It will take a few moments, though, so if you have any preparations to make for the infiltration I suggest you do them now."
As she waited for the mist to slowly build, she laid out her plan in a deadpan murmur, obviously seeing nothing unusual or absurd about any of it.
"I used this to slip past some goblins a few years ago. Men aren't goblins, of course, but I believe there's still a high probability of success. I'm going to turn them both into pigs."
Still holding out one hand to call the mist, she used the other to pull a staff out from her cloak. It was short and had a strange, twisted pattern running up its length. Too small to be useful to an adult as a walking stick, it seemed more like one carved for a child.
"With this I can quickly and easily change living beings into pigs. The transformation is temporary, but it should last long enough for us to get in and out, assuming we are not obstructed too long inside."
Nodding with satisfaction at the now-thick mist shrouding the street and pooling in the open courtyard, she looked to Balthier.
"I will start with the one on the left. I suggest you head to the right. Stay close to the wall, where the shadows and the mist will keep you hidden. Move very slowly, and don't make a sound. Head for the door when you hear the second pig hit the ground."
With these bizarre instructions completed, and not waiting for Balthier's reaction, she slipped into the mist of the courtyard and headed left.
The guards may not have seen anything unnatural about the evening mist that was now filling the courtyard, but it had made them wary. Rhea had to creep very slowly around the left side of the first guard to avoid his sweeping gaze. Luckily, her forest-patterned cloak helped her blend in with the greenery of the grounds and, after a few tense moments, she was presented with his unprotected back.
Like a snake, she sprang forward silently, thrusting the staff so it touched his unprotected leg. She held it firm against him, so even when he jerked in alarm at the touch the staff stayed in contact.
"Piggy piggy oink oink," Rhea chanted quickly. Yes, it was childish, since it had been the incantation she had invented for the staff when she was barely older than Rydia. It had served her faithfully since childhood and, rather than embarrassment, the chant made her slightly nostalgic for the good old days studying her first magic spells in Mysidia.
With a quiet 'poof' the guard became a little blue piggy.
Before it even had time to hit the ground, Rhea reached out and clamped her hand over its snout to keep it from squealing. The other guard wasn't that far away, and had heard the brief scuffle.
"Biggs?" he called.
Quickly, Rhea bound a thread around the snout of the piggy to keep it quiet, then sent it running toward the other guard.
"What the-... Biggs there's a pig over here!" the guard called, bending down to scoop up the pig as it came barreling toward him.
That was the opening Rhea was aiming for. With his hands full of pig, he wouldn't be able to block her attack even if she came at him from the front. Leaping out of the mist at him, she thrust out her staff again.
Unfortunately, the guard was much better trained than any goblin she had dealt with. Dropping the pig, he drew his blade in one fluid motion and turned aside Rhea's thrust. It was only his confusion that saved her, as she was thrown off balance and a blow from the blade easily could have ended her life. Instead the guard looked at her in utter bewilderment. Thankfully, she looked much more like a swineherder than she did a robber.
"Biggs what the hell are you doing over there? Who's this crazy wench?" he called.
Rhea's mind told her desperately that she should be running, using the mist and perhaps a little ice magic to get away, but that would lead to failure and failure would mean her one lead on finding Rydia would vanish. Still, she had no hope of defeating the guard in a straight fight either. Her fight or flight reflex was locked down, unable to choose one or the other.
To her credit, the woman’s resolve didn’t waver. In fact, her eyes burned with something even hotter as she set eyes on the two armed men keeping vigil over the grounds. Something had changed in her. Maybe she had the stomach for this afterall.
She waved her hand, and Balthier felt a shift in the air. It took him a moment to recognize the change -- was it heavier? -- before he noticed the slow roll of fog creeping in like something alive. Balthier’s eyebrows raised. If they’d been alone, he would have whistled.
”Not bad,” he muttered, glancing to her. It seemed she hadn’t lied about her uses as an illusionist. The gears in his head were already ticking with the possibilities.
He took her advice and made an inventory of his options while they waited. He had three potions in his side pack along with an antidote, an echo herb, and a phoenix down. Their use came first then magic if the situation seemed right. Balthier brought a hand to his chest and concentrated, gathering a mystical light to himself once the fog was thick enough to obscure it. Libra. He peered through the foliage with a heightened sense of sight. A right lot of good it would do him in the fog, but it never hurt to try.
His partner pulled what looked like a roughly-hewn club from her cloak and held it up with a deadly serious look. Balthier blinked at her. ”Beg pardon?” He must have heard incorrectly. It had almost sounded like she planned to…
”Head for the door when you hear the second pig hit the ground.” Rhea dodged into the fog before he could say a word. Balthier stared after her, taken aback. Once the words had processed, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
”As clear as mud.”
He crept off slowly down the underbrush, emerging only once he was certain he was out of sight. Practice kept his step light, and more than once he caught the telltale red glow of a trap hidden beneath the underbrush. He skirted carefully around them (thank the gods for Libra) as he reached the other side of the yard.
A man’s voice pierced the fog. Balthier stifled a curse as he quickened his step. It was no wonder her plan had gone wrong -- whatever it was. If that voice was to be believed, it did indeed involve a pig.
There was a scuffle. The clink of a pulled blade. Balthier emerged from the fog, unnoticed with the distraction. He crept directly behind the man before he struck like a cobra, grabbing from behind, pulling his gun, and shoving it beneath his throat in one quick motion. The man stiffened in his grasp and started to shout something before Balthier pressed the gun barrel into his neck.
”Careful now. Wouldn’t want an accident, would we?” Balthier glanced to Rhea. Whatever she’d done, the second guard was nowhere to be found. He nodded to her. ”Care to work your magic?”
She looked in shock, but quickly shook it off. With hardly a moment’s hesitation, she pulled her stick and thrust it at the man with an incantation that he thought must have been a joke until the magic struck and he lost his grip. Rhea dove down and grabbed the man (thing? pig?) before it could reach the ground, tying its snout with practiced ease. Once again, Balthier was left staring.
”A woman of your word, I see.” Where did one learn a spell like that? He supposed it was neither the time nor place to ask. ”Keep close behind.” With that, he started towards the door, testing the unlocked handle before he pressed himself against the wall to its side. He listened for footsteps as he opened the door and peered around the corner. It was a kitchen complete with stove, cutlery, and a faint glow of embers in the hearth. A red circle danced its warning spiral at the door’s landing.
”Care-ful,” he said with an almost playful pause between. He edged around the sigils that only he could see. ”Match my step if you would.”
With the trap avoided, he pressed himself at the doorless frame to his left. Nothing. The stairs to the cellar were only two empty rooms away and they traversed it easily. The silence pricked a warning at the back of his neck.
”And now for the hunt.” Balthier crossed his arms as he eyed the cellar in question. Nothing but barrels, kegs, and dust as far as the eye could see. He sighed. Libra was useless for this. ”You wouldn’t happen to know a spell for finding doors?” he asked. ”It’s terribly tedious work if you haven’t luck on your side.”
After the second guard had been turned into a pig, Rhea finally felt like she could let out the breath she had been holding. She took a moment to steady herself, pressing a hand to her heart to still her pounding heart and calm her breathing. It had been quite a while since she had come so close to possible death or capture.
She momentarily forgot their circumstances, and opened her mouth to thank Balthier. Luckily, she caught herself just in time and closed her mouth, instead giving him a simple, relieved nod of thanks.
Inside was all his domain. Rhea was used to the simple homes of Mist or the utilitarian dormitories of Mysidia. She had never been inside anything that could be called a mansion. Even with the map in her head, she couldn't fathom how one would navigate the complex corridors, stairs and linked rooms within. Luckily, Balthier seemed more confident in his movements, so she happily trailed behind him, mimicking his every step.
Only when they skirted the magic trap was she distracted from their goal. Pausing, she looked down at it, even going so far as to pull out a scrap of parchment and a charcoal to create a rough sketch of it. She only got about a quarter of it finished before she noticed that Balthier was about to leave her behind. The scholar in her stamped a foot in frustration, but her fear of being lost in the labyrinthine mansion pushed her onward.
Their descent into the basement was blessedly uneventful, though Rhea had to hold a sleeve in front of her nose to keep from coughing at the dust. It reminded her of a trip to the deepest sections of the library in Mysidia. The nostalgia of her days studying magic brought a quirk of a smile to her lips as she responded to Balthier's question.
"I believe in fate, but not luck I'm afraid," she said.
She then murmured a short incantation and pointed two fingers of her right hand. Spidery tendrils of quietly crackling yellow electricity danced between her fingers.
"The study of magic is the study of nature and all its forces. A simple lightning spell can do so much more than shock your enemies," she continued, seemingly enjoying the chance to provide some instruction.
To demonstrate her point, she stretched out her hand, letting the yellow electricity shoot out a foot or two in front of her. It arced and danced but, even in its chaos, it was clear to see that it was snaking toward a specific location on the floor. Rhea's hair floated just a little from the static charge as she turned and flashed Balthier a smile.
"It seems there is more metal over there than it would initially appear. Perhaps a trap door?"
There was a barrel over the portion of the floor the electricity indicated, so Rhea borrowed Balthier's help shifting it enough to reveal a metal trap door in the floor. In the center of the metal slab was a pull-ring, but the door was held fast by solid padlocks on two of its edges.
"My method for dealing with locks is quite loud, so I'll leave this in your hands."
