Faris was no stranger to the rough-and-tumble life of a city's seedy underbelly. There was a kind of charm to the unwashed and an honesty among thieves. Once, not so very long ago, Faris had been known through the less reputable parts of the world as a fierce pirate captain -- a no-good, fearsome leader with a sharp eye and a tongue to match. He'd been welcomed into the bars of Tule and Walse with a kind of reverent hush. No one wanted to tangle with pirates -- at least, not if they knew what was good for them.

Of course, a certain kidnapping had changed all of that. Faris was known more for his heroics now than for his ruthlessness. Bartz hadn't been the smartest of men, but his idiot charms could bring out the best from even the seediest of criminals. Truth be told, Bartz' puppy dog eyes had done more to save the world than his sword ever had.

"The wide-eyed idiot..." Faris took another swig of his drink -- a mixture of sickly sweet juice and bottom-of-the-shelf vodka the locals called a "Dragon's Claw." The taste was like rotten peaches, but he tried to swallow before it touched his tongue.

"I know, right? What's he on, thinking we'll buy something as crazy as that?"

"Eh?" Faris glanced to the man on his left. He was burly with arms like hams and callouses on his fingers. A dock worker maybe, or a miner. He nodded towards the crowd at the center of the room. 

"That kid. He's talking crazy. Something about a princess."

"A princess?" Faris raised an eyebrow towards the crowd. If he craned his neck, he might have caught a hint of blonde in the middle. 

"Yeah, kidnapping a princess or something. I think he came in the wrong door."

"Kidnapping a princess...A man'd have to have a lot of brass for that. Dangerous work."

The man gave Faris an odd look, but Faris had already placed his drink on the counter. For once, the barkeeper paid him no mind as he slipped towards the crowd with a pocket half-full of gil and a chip on his shoulder. Maybe he'd return to his pay for drink. But then again, maybe he wouldn't.

"But, we couldn't have predicted what would happen next." A young voice rose above the drunken squabble of the bar. Faris peered around the shoulder of an airship docker to see a boy perched on the table with his head held high and his legs dangling off the sides. The boy raised a hand to his chest like an actor center-stage. His eyes shone brightly in the dim candlelight.  "The Queen shot us down, not even caring that her own daughter, the beautiful Princess Garnet, was on the ship as well. We fell, our ship crash landing in the forest, none of us sure we would survive..."

For a long moment, the crowd was silent, waiting for more. The boy flashed them all a devilish grin. "I'll tell you guys the rest tomorrow!"

The docker groaned quietly. "What? You can't leave us hanging like that!"

"That's it? I bet it's all made up anyway!"

"What happened to the airship? Come on!"

The boy hopped from the table and started through the crowd with a spring to his step. He didn't pay any attention to the grumbling, and instead made a bee-line for the bar. Faris watched him sharply.

There was something about him that Faris didn't like. The boy was even shorter than Faris, but he walked as though he hadn't noticed that the bar was full of rogues and that maybe he'd do best not to rile them. The boy had the eyes of a cherub, the grin of a hustler, and the swagger of a hired sword. Faris followed him until they'd reached the counter. Then he folded his arms, leaned against it, and eyed the boy coolly.

"A princess, eh? Ransoming royalty's a dangerous business. You don't seem the type." Faris looked the boy over again and raised an eyebrow. "So what's your story? Your real story? You look like you fit in here about as much as I do." Faris glanced to the faded shirts and denim pants of the bar's patrons. Not a tunic, a glove, or a strip of lace in sight. "So out with it! Where'd you come from? How'd you get here? There's something odd about you, and I can sniff out trouble from a mile away."

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