It's a bright and shining afternoon through the viewport of the Strahl. Tropical shore stretches beneath the ship, and a balmy breeze drifts past it, even as winter stretches out its long hand across the World Tree's many realms. He hadn't bothered to learn the name of this place, nor the important roads that connect to it. There had been no need. It would only serve as a means to go from one place to another.
    Instead, he folded his arms and leaned back in the pilot's chair, listening to the subtle sounds of the ship; the electrical hum he could almost feel through the chair, and the smooth whine of the Strahl's glossair rings.
    The location beyond its wings didn't matter. The Strahl was home. It was everything, to him, to Fran; a means of livelihood, a home, and a symbol of their freedom, all in one.
    Once upon a time it had been a convenient means to run away. He had run so far, and yet the distance had been so little, returning full circle. It had only led him back to Archades, back to his father's insanity, and the complicated, dangerous mess that had nearly consumed three continents.
    Balthier shook his head, disgusted. "All that running, and I really did get nowhere," he muttered under his breath.
    She didn't speak, but he could feel Fran flick an ear as much as see the movement at the edge of his vision; a silent inquiry.
    "Just doing some thinking, Fran. Pay it no mind."
    "Your father." Both ears swivelled forward, but her gaze remained forward, searching beyond the viewport.
    "Something like that."
    "To rest, you had laid that matter, had you not?"
    "Oh, yes, I had. I can't say I'm happy about how things turned out, but it was closure, of a sort. What irony, though. He'd never been talking to himself. Venat had turned out to be real after all." He shook his head, bitter. "'Putting the reins of history back in the hands of man,' indeed. Mad as a wyrdhare after all. Not that the alternative is much more appetizing, our fates slaved to the whims of the Occuria..."
    Fran said nothing. He didn't expect her to, so he sighed and continued, hands ghosting over the controls of the Strahl with such practised ease that he paid no mind to his actions.
    "I suppose when it comes down to it, I don't want to see that girl doing the same thing." He shook his head, the twist of silver in his ear clinking softly against itself. "Throwing her life away in an effort to run as far and as fast as her wheels can take her."
    Fran flicked an ear again, silent acknowledgement, and he could feel her red-brown eyes upon him. "You care. Why?"
    "I don't know," he admitted, sourly. "But she's clever, and it would be a shame to see that potential, that spirit, wasted and broken. She'd make a good sky pirate, you know."
    "Yes," Fran observed. "But as she is now, too inflexible, she is."
    Balthier sighed. "Yes, there's certainly that. She knows what it's like to taste a sky pirate's freedom, I think, when she sits down at the control of that vehicle of hers. She just needs a little..."
    "Guidance?"
    His face twisted into a scowl. "Not from me."
    "Nor I," Fran agrees, tone so neutral as to seem nonchalant.
    "Time will tell."
    "It always does."
    He laughed. "I suppose if anybody's going to fall back on that general sentiment, it would be you, wouldn't it?"
    "Your point...?" Cold, cold, cold; to an outsider, maybe, but he could sense the thread of tolerant mirth.
    "You wound me," he said, with an irreverent half-smile. "I'm simply admiring your wisdom."
    "We'll see about that."
    "For now, it's best we take young Stojespal wherever she needs to go, and then remove her and her machine from the Strahl. Then, we can find a place for Nono to start his work. That conversion is bound to take some time, and I'd prefer to have a hand in it personally. It'll be all hands on deck." He patted the control yoke, chuckling. "She's a finicky girl, but our Strahl is entirely worth it."
    "Too, I will do what I can."
    "I would expect no less. Right. Once that's all finished, I'd like to pay a visit to Captain Rimehart again."
    "As you wish." Fran flicked an ear indifferently. "One thing at a time, sky pirate. 'Tis all any of us can do."
    "Truer words, my dear," Balthier sighed, keeping his gaze forward, watching for both terrain and vines, staying low on the shoreline. "Truer words."