Disclaimer: Final Fantasy characters and settings belong to SquareEnix. Just borrowing them for a bit and I'll put them away when I'm done.

Per Fas et Nefas
by RaichuTec

Prologue:
Bevelle's activity had only increased since the end of Vegnagun, and the lines that once divided them from the Youth League and the rest of the world slackened and eventually fell away. Tense alliances gradually became lasting bonds and old traditions gained new meanings. Yevon was gone. A thousand years of prayer to the statues of Fayth and High Summoners alike had to be replaced with something new.

New Yevon tried to provide for some of it. The older generation, along with some of the more conservative youth, found themselves lost in the chaos after the Eternal Calm. And fell further into that struggle to find meaning as everything changed and old traditions crumbled to dust. Perhaps they would have gone back to war again, in the attempt to arise from the ashes with an identity in their hands.

But for the second time, the only living High Summoner, Yuna, had managed to gather people under the same banner. To fix the lines of communication and break down the barriers they all erected. And then to help solve a tragedy left to fester for a thousand years and help a few others along the way.

Baralai would always admire her for that. To somehow get in and fix the problem without getting her hands dirty in the process and walk away still as pure as when she arrived. She never had to stay, though. To remain behind to ensure that her repairs remained intact, to keep everything held together even tenuously. Perhaps that was her secret.

In the meanwhile, Baralai had many tenuous strings to hold together and somehow make sure they were still tied together at the end of the day. The peace after Vegnagun made it easier, at least. Less tension in the air, people more willing to work toward mutual goals. But it never lasted. You couldn't just erase a thousand years of history without a struggle. Every change had to be resisted first, and then embraced fervently and eventually an even balance could be established with time. The trouble was that there was nothing to struggle against, no great evil to unite anyone. And people wanted that gap filled, someone to play the patsy for them so they had somewhere to lay their burdens and complaints.

For years, Sin played that role, and the Al Bhed to a lesser degree. Then the Guado took up the mantle after Sin's defeat along with the division between factions. Now that there was nothing to declare evil, tension was slowly rising again. A never ending cycle.

He paused in his thoughts, rubbing the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes to take them off the pages he'd been reading. More reports and proposals to go over, sign where appropriate or reject when necessary. There was restlessness among some of the members, he knew. They missed the days where Bevelle was in control, and bemoaned the slow dismantling of the secrets below. Via Infinito had to be cleared out. The temple sealed away. Other secrets had to be carefully found and neutralized. A veritable collection of machina and a hoard of plans left to gather dust. Nothing as horrible as Vegnagun, thankfully, but still so much firepower it made Baralai wonder if they would have just destroyed the world, had it not been for Sin's unconventional solution to such wanton power.

All of it could be used to re-establish Bevelle as a world power, some argued. It was folly to destroy it. Once Baralai might have agreed, when he still saw Nooj as an enemy and used everything at his disposal to undermine his former comrade. But he had no love for the secrets he had to keep back then, or for the methods Bevelle and Yevon employed. Part of their move forward was to be rid of their negative past.

But it never stopped the complaining. Thankfully it was a small group that nipped at his heels like pups demanding attention. They just seemed to bark the loudest, despite their low numbers. Arguing with him during council meetings, sending him correspondence after correspondence with alternate proposals for some of the machina or other things found in the depths of Bevelle's labyrinths. Reasons why they should continue to use fiends to protect sacred places. Every excuse in the world to resist the inevitable and with each proposal there came a definite rejection. Baralai held onto his position as Praetor by any means necessary, and the letters stacked in front of him gave more than enough impetus to continue doing so.

The knock at the door was greeted with a relieved smile. Any excuse to delay his reading was welcome at the moment. It might mean a late night, but he'd deal with it then. "Come in, please."

He turned as the door swung open and admitted Rialdo. Standing well over six feet, he was an anomaly among the New Yevonites. Half Ronso and half Guado, it was difficult for him to find his place in the world. Yevon had provided him with comfort thanks to the former Maester from Gagazet, and he had been fanatically devoted to the order right up till its last breath with the winds of change extinguishing the need for it. He stood out in any crowd, with his feline features melting into gangly limbs. His forehead boasted only a small, rather stubby looking horn as well. A disgrace among both the Ronso and the Guado. Sadly, he had not taken well to the changes to Bevelle and was one of the strongest opponents to the destruction of Bevelle secrets as they were discovered.

Baralai's smile nearly faded. He anticipated either an argument or another difficult conversation with the half-ronso.

Rising to his feet, he bowed at nearly the same moment, both of them circling their arms before rising. It was an old tradition that would probably last for many years to come. Baralai had to tilt his head back to really be able to look Rialdo in the eyes. They regarded him calmly, though a pensive undercurrent hinted at inner tensions. "Praetor Baralai. I wanted to have a word with you, when it's convenient. I took the liberty of having tea brought in for us as well. Am I here at a bad time?"

Polite, Rialdo's voice carried a soft purr combined with the Guado ability to enunciate. It was nearly a beautiful baritone and sometimes Baralai wondered what it might be like to hear him sing the Hymn of the Faith. A pity that they were always so at odds. "No, it isn't a bad time. I welcome an interruption at the moment and tea sounds lovely. Please, come in and have a seat, Rialdo."

Formalities completed, Rialdo bowed one more time and settled himself into one of the lounge chairs found haphazardly placed within the Praetor's office. Baralai simply twisted his desk chair around and sat down again, just as a young priestess entered, the tray in her arms laden with tea and its compliments. While he was sure he was in for another round of tense negotiations with the half-ronso, Baralai still welcomed the opportunity to get away from the paperwork for just a little while. Besides, he could always hope to steer the conversation away from volatile subjects for awhile.

"I'm not actually here to argue, Praetor," Rialdo finally spoke as the tea cups were handed out to each of them. "I'm here just to... talk. You've made our course of action rather resolute. And I think perhaps a compromise might be better than just trying to stand our ground."

"It depends on your idea of compromise," Baralai replied calmly. He stirred the tea idly, studying Rialdo's expression and mulling over his opening words. Everything in Bevelle was a song and a dance and you had to learn to read between the lines if you wanted to survive. "Rialdo, I am impressed that the Traditionalists are so resolute. It is unfortunate to me that I must take such a hard line. I know that you're intentions are good."

"But good intentions still bring us Sin," the half-ronso countered. It was something Baralai had been quoted saying on many an occasion.

He chuckled quietly, "Touche." The tea wasn't too hot, either, he discovered. It tasted of honey and a hint of cinnamon. "I'm interested to hear this compromise of yours, Rialdo. I won't make promises, but I will always listen."

"I'm afraid it's more of a necessity for you to compromise than us." Rialdo put his cup down after that, rising quietly from his chair. "While it was suggested that we simply have you assassinated, Praetor, I knew that would be folly. Therefore, instead I'm afraid we must use your good name for awhile."

There was a definite shift in the atmosphere, then.

"Rialdo..." The change to his tone of voice immediately alarmed Baralai, instinctively checking his distance to the exit and making note of anything he could use for a weapon. He had long been mired in the work of a leader, but that didn't mean he let his body go idle.

And Rialdo knew that. "Please, Praetor, it will only be a moment more. I promise, I will allow no harm to come to you. And in the new world, when it comes, I will make sure you have your place."

Baralai rose to his feet slowly, glancing down once at the tea and realizing his folly. Already his mind had begun to swim, numbness spreading down his arms and legs till his fingers and toes began to tingle. By the time darkness finally saw fit to drag him under, he'd already begun to fall, caught at the last moment by the strong arms of the half-ronso.

He hadn't even the mind or ability to ask what this new world would entail.