CHAPTER 1: POLITICKING

The assassin was quick, a pulsating blur rushing down the hall. The curtains suddenly swelled on the left wall. The portrait of Emperor Gramis on the right came crashing down in an irreverent din. Basch kept his eyes on the shadow, breathing heavily as he sprinted in his full suit of metal armor. His knees were getting too old for chases, he reckoned, as he heard a pop come from below. How audacious of that trespasser to infiltrate the palace during the day!

The blur turned a corner. Basch trailed him into the next passageway, but stopped in his tracks as he doubled the bend. The ceiling suddenly closed over him. The sunlight was ripped right out of the air, and in its wake were patches of light. Titanic beams raced down the sides of metal plates that made for walls, and the pungent smell of some burning fuel leaked into his helmet. He knew this room. The beating heart of the palace. The mechanical floor.

"Damn it," he muttered, looking around helplessly. He had lost sight of the killer in the sea of pumping engines. Fat wires raced across the floor and gave off the occasional spark, and in the distance numerous magicite cells flickered in the dark like constellations. Basch took out his Tournesol—the great-sword he used to strike Vayne Solidor down—and brandished it. The hilt of his weapon began to glow and illuminated the space around him. In the darkness, it would give off light. In the Emperor's most vulnerable times, it would always be there to guard him.

Protect the young lord. Protect Larsa.

Those words filled his heart with fire. Basch put both of his closed fists to his heart, and felt his chest surge with an overpowering energy. It boiled inside of him, filled his bones and muscles with an incessant rattling feeling—as if some monster had wanted to escape from his flesh. Then he shouted: "Immobilize!" The energy broke out in a raw starburst of green. Tongues of emerald fire shot out in all directions passing through engines and beams and all! But no, it would not break the machines. It would only need to break one person. In the distance there was a sharp scream of pain, and then a loud, echoing thud. Basch grinned under his helmet, for he had done the breaking.

Basch broke into a clumsy sprint, head still spinning from conjuring the magic. He gripped the Tournesol and sped towards the sound. He passed rows of chugging contraptions and a braved through a cloud of heavy steam. A figure on the ground was closing in: a teenager, probably in his later years! He was all dressed in black, paralyzed in a very awkward fetal position. He looked like a figurine that had fallen off a shelf. His arms and legs were as hard as stone, but his face could still move, and more importantly, talk. Perhaps he could explain why he was holding a knife, and why the tip of it was sprinkled with some red.

Basch sheathed his sword, bent down, and grabbed the assassin by his long hair. He pulled him up by his locks so that they could see eye-to-eye. "Fearless," Basch commended in a low voice. His voice muffled as he spoke through his helmet. "And reckless. If you were a good assassin, you would have come here during the night." He scraped his eyes down the assassin's outfit. It was a light, leather armor of the darkest black he'd ever seen.

"Who sent you here?" Basch continued. The look on the teen's face seemed rattled, but the man did not speak. "Young men like you shouldn't be out killing royalty. You should be in the Academy. You should be finding a woman to settle down with. We live in a time of peace, and it is my sole duty to keep it that way."

"Guh—" The assassin began. "Gluh!"

The teen's stomach was met with a hard punch.

"Are you mute, boy? Speak!" Basch ordered. He gripped the assassin's hair tighter, so hard it made the young man squeal and gurgle out blood. "You have just attempted to kill the Emperor of Archadia! Have you no bearing on the implication of your actions? These such activities are punishable by death!"

"Buh…Buhl…" The teenager drawled through crimson teeth.

Basch's lips mimicked the cutthroat's muttering. "Buh…Buhl…You are not making sense!"

"Bulth…." Now, his eyes were flickering, and he was growing pale.

"Stay sharp." Basch knew the look in the young man's eyes. It was the same sort of slipping of a dying soldier. He carefully placed the killer down with a clunk and patted his body. Perhaps he had a deep wound—or perhaps he had broken one of his ribs. The man turned the teen over and looked at his back. Sticking out from his left side was some sort of metal stick, and it looked painfully planted into his skin. Perhaps the young killer had impaled himself from the blast. Basch couldn't help but feel responsible, but he had no time for pity. "Stay sharp, you fool."

Three imperial gunmen entered the floor, rifles cocked and ready. "Judge Gabranth!"

Basch looked behind him. They were standing ready for orders.

"How is the emperor?" Judge Gabranth asked worriedly. "Is he hurt?"

"Just a minor cut on the right arm, sir," answered the forward most gun-man.

That outraged Basch. "Just a minor cut, you say? They said this assassin was this—" and he showed them the exact distance using his thumb and pointer finger, "—close to cutting down Emperor Larsa. I leave him with you for seven minutes, and he is almost killed! Who was in charge?"

The soldiers dared not make eye contact with Judge Gabranth, or each other. A susurration passed between them.

"Who was in charge!?" Gabranth yelled with an edge sharper than steel.

"My lord!" One soldier took a step forward, and bowed lowly. "Forgive me, my lord!"

"Unforgivable, soldier." Basch grabbed the young assassin and callously threw him before the gunmen's feet. "Bring this killer to the dungeons. Tend to his wounds and chain him. We are to have him interrogated there. After, go to Judge Zargabaath and deposit your arms and armor. This is your last day as an Imperial Gunner. Consider this mercy."

"Thank you, my lord!" The responsible gunman replied with a lower bow.

The three gunmen grappled the assassin by his stone-hard limbs and spirited him away from the mechanical floor. Their metal armor clinked away into the distance, and the sound of electric sparks running across the generators returned in the wake of the commotion.

Basch sighed and shook his head. "To another day," he said, raising an imaginary cup.

It was eleven o'clock in the morning.

Basch fon Ronsenburg was a decorated war veteran. He served in the Dalmascan army for almost seven years, after his homeland of Landis was invaded and occupied by the Archadian Empire. Basch fon Ronsenburg rose to the rank of captain only after three years—something quite unheard of in such military frameworks. His twin brother, Noah fon Ronsenburg stayed in their homeland of Landis, and with the help of his exceptional fighting skills, rose to the rank of Archadian Judge. After fifteen years of service, he had earned his place in Archadia's elite circle of judges—the supreme commanders of the Archadian military and the guardians of the noble House Solidor—and was addressed by the name Judge Gabranth.

During the 704 Valendian calendar, the empire of Archadia invaded Dalmasca. Basch fon Ronsenburg defended his new homeland on the frontlines in Nalbina Fortress. It was a small but hardy point of entry which but kept the Archadian armada from advancing into Dalmascan territory. Nalbina fell like a house of cards, and Archadia continued its advance towards the Dalmascan capital of Rabanastre. Noah fon Ronsenburg assassinated King Raminas of Dalmasca in the Rabanastran royal palace, and framed Basch for the killing. Being his identical twin, Noah got away with the killing. Basch was then arrested and brought underground for two years. The sky pirates Balthier, Fran and Vaan then liberated him in the Nalbina Underground.

Basch served a year in the rebellion against the Empire, working with Princess Ashe and the sky pirates. Their connections and interactions with Lord Larsa Solidor of Archadia and Lord Al-Cid Margrace of Rozarria helped settle issues within the feud. Unfortunately, it was not enough to stop the bloodlust of Lord Vayne Solidor—heir to the Archadian throne, who murdered his father and became Emperor or Archadia for a mere three months. Vayne was swayed by power. He attempted to reach the level of godhood and created The Bahamut, a weapon of mass destruction. During the final battle with Vayne, Judge Gabranth died protecting his honor and Lord Larsa. During his final momenths, Noah requested his twin brother to continue protecting the young lord and the good of the Empire.

Basch took possession of Noah's armor and title. No one but Emperor Larsa, Queen Ashe, and the sky pirates Balthier, Fran, Penelo and Vaan, knew about the switch. Basch continued to serve as Judge Gabranth for many years. Ten years have passed since the great battle.

Judge Gabranth entered the emperor's study cautiously. He was anxious, but more than that, ashamed. He could not show his face to Larsa, not after the breach in security. Gabranth could already imagine how frightened the emperor must have felt, and how powerless the ruler must have been without a judge by his side. An assassin in the throne room! What madness! His honor had been crushed! He would ask for pardon, and if necessary, answer to the dire consequences.

To his surprise, His Excellency was on his desk, signing some documents—occasionally leaning back to the scribe and asking clarifications as to what he had scrawled on the parchment. It was as if nothing had happened, as if almost getting killed was the most natural thing in the world!

Judge Gabranth felt his ears hot with guilt. "My lord."

The emperor stopped writing. Larsa looked up from his papers, and looked at the judge inquisitively. "What's the matter, Gabranth? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

His nonchalant reaction seemed to worsen the matter. Was Lord Larsa being sarcastic?

Gabranth bowed lowly. He could not bear to look Larsa straight in the eye. "Emperor, I take full responsibility for what happened this morning…" And he stopped, expecting a good shouting or some other emperor-like condemnation. But Larsa did not speak. It seemed no one did today. "I shan't leave you with those gunmen alone again. They are ill-experienced. Forgive me, sire."

"Sir, if you would give us a minute," Larsa said, addressing the scribe.

"Very good, my lord," the scribe replied, sliding out of the study.

"Emperor Larsa, forgive me, I—"

"—That's enough sorrow for now, Basch."

Basch looked up, and removed his helmet. Now he could see Larsa in full clarity. The emperor was seated in a most regal way—as if posing for a portrait—square shoulders exuding authority and deep blue eyes beaming attentiveness. In this instance, however, his visage gave way to something quite tender. "Lord Larsa…I…"

"It is dangerous to talk about assassinations in front of other court members."

"My lord, this one harmed you," Basch worried, looking to the ripped sleeve of the emperor.

Larsa looked down to his cut. He covered it with his left hand. It did sting, but no one was to know. "A flesh wound. Nothing more. And you're not to speak of it to anyone in the palace."

Basch hung his head. How could he keep such a big deal a secret?

"This is not only for me. Imagine how unsafe the other staff would feel if they realize there was an incident. They'd be performing their duties in fear. We don't need that right now. I am not ignorant, Basch. I am fully aware of the threats on my life. Four assassins have attempted to kill me in the last ten years, two of which took place in this very palace. If there is anyone to be concerned the most, it should be me. Yet I sit here, signing papers. You worry."

"I always worry, my lord. You are the emperor."

"And you are my friend. I am telling you, as a friend, that you should not fear leaving my side. I'm fully capable of protecting myself. I know how to use a sword," the emperor suddenly chuckled, then immediately collected himself. A trait he had picked up in the last few years. "Basch, there are more important things to be dealt with. For example, these signatories. And those old bastards later in the afternoon who pry into these signatories."

"The senate, your excellency," Basch corrected, a bit annoyed.

He knew Larsa and the senate hated each other some days, and tolerated each other on most. Certain policies would take months to draft, because of conflicting interests. Basch hated politics, but was impressed on how well Emperor Larsa could navigate such dicey waters. The man had seen how the once child-emperor had matured into a man worthy of carrying the Solidor name. He had seen how the young lord had learned the Game fast. He realized how the senate hated Larsa for being a quick learner, yet everyone still kept all sorts of polite formalities when dealing with each other. Archadians were so non-confrontational and passive-aggressive about many matters. If they were Landisians, the problems would have been quickly resolved by duel!

"Would you dine with me Basch? 'Tis almost luncheon," Larsa said, tucking the papers into a drawer.

Emperor Larsa rose from his seat, gathering the train of his robe under his heavy, wooden chair. He strode towards Basch and beamed him an ambivalent smile. The two of them would have stood at the same height, were it not for the tall diadem that weighed down on the emperor's head. Basch put back on his helmet, and then held out his arm for his master to hold. The man gracefully declined. Instead, Larsa gently pushed the judge's metal arm down, strode forward towards the door and opened it for the both of them.

"I would like to turn your attention to the third section of this bill, my lords."

There was the flipping sound of pages, a hundred of them all beating like a flock of birds. Emperor Larsa squinted, looking at the fine print on the document. The ink on his paper had been smeared, but he was too tired to complain. He placed the documents down and listened attentively to the senator, who would be reading the section out loud.

"Section Three of Imperial Bill Five-Oh-Four-Five!" declared Chancellor Drace. "Eligibility of half-castes in regards to applying for a gentry status. The individual would be allowed to apply for a gentry's status, and would be granted the following rights resulting in that status. First, the individual would be allowed to hold estate in the districts of Nilbasse, Trant, Molberry and Rienna. Second, the individual would be allowed to defend himself in court without going through the previous processes as prescribed by Imperial Law Oh-Seven-Oh-Nine. Third, in regards with marriage to another full-gentry, the properties would be allowed to transfer to the half-gentry in case of the pure full-gentry's death—"

"I will have to stop you right there, Senator Drace," cut in another senator. All heads turned to a man with a long, braided beard. His name was Senator Granch, and he was stroking his chin wildly. "Since when did that third bullet get pass the fifth reading? I recalled a number of senators voting against such matter."

"Your numbers are mistaken. The senate was in favor of this, six-to-five."

"Which means someone must have switched his vote."

"I am the one, Senator Granch."

"Chancellor Drace, I suspect you have a good rationale for making such a decision! This is madness! We cannot agree to such matters. If you are to open this window of opportunity to the half-castes, then there would be more bad consequences than good!"

"Such as?"

"The rise of murder charges, your honors."

Emperor Larsa spoke up. "Senator Granch, since when has murder been connected to granting half-castes rights on properties?"

Granch beamed irritated eyes at the emperor. He gritted his teeth. "My lord, a good friend of mine was killed in his flat last month. He was married to a half-caste, but they did not have children. Him and his wife were the only two people in the flat during that evening. When he died, his properties could not be transferred to the wife, and his assets were frozen by the central bank. Curiously enough, his wife is one of the prime petitioners of this bill. Look!"

Emperor Larsa grimaced. He picked up his copy of the bill and furiously flipped to the last page, to where all the signatures were. "Signed by a certain Charlotte Vint," he muttered and looked back up at Senator Granch. The old man was nodding. "Are you saying that Mrs. Charlotte Vint was responsible for her husband's death, and that she's pushing for this bill to retrieve all her husband's frozen assets?"

"You pulled the words right out of my mouth, Your Excellency!" Granch exclaimed, seemingly triumphant.

"That is a blatant accusation. There is no such proof," Larsa retorted, folding his arms. "Perhaps you are forgetting that these half-castes have been pushing for a gentry status for decades now. If this government is to function for the common good, then will this bill not be the best for all? After all, the only caveat is that one of their parents does not belong to Archadian aristocracy. There still have, to some degree, noble blood. Can they not be excused for how they were born?"

"When you give people excuses, they are bound to abuse it," Granch spat.

"Gentlemen, enough, please," Chancellor Drace said calmly. But Senator Granch looked so furious, he could have set anything on fire by just looking at it. "Granch, say your peace."

"Yes, I would like to say that if this bill is passed, we would be letting cockroaches into our city. They would be breeding even more half-castes! This bill would be challenging the system we have taken so long to uphold," Granch explained, eyes scanning the senate. He saw their conflicted looks. He then faced Emperor Larsa, and a capricious glint flickered in the senator's his eye. "Of course, we cannot blame His Excellency for supporting such peasant sentiments. He has had much experience with mingling with outsider trash in the past."

Larsa's eyes shot open and he almost flew off from his seat. "Excuse me?"

"With all due respect, Excellency, you must not let your sentiments cloud your judgment on this matter. The senate knows of your dealings with the sky pirates and the Dalmascan insurgents many years ago. We have been kind to turn a blind eye to these for the past decade, but we will not allow you to bring such ideologies into our society."

Larsa felt defeated for a second. The way Granch said it but only reaffirmed his beliefs: Archadia knew everything about his past, and if he were to do anything to radically change the society, his questionable—not to mention personal!—past would be exposed. He would dare not walk that path. The emperor could have called Granch out with a certain 'ad hominem!', but he knew the senator's ears would not hear any opinion but their own. "Senator, the half-castes have already reached the boiling point. It will not be long before we get burnt. They have already caused a ruckus in Old Archades. Additionally, many gentry are in favor of the bill. This issue has taken four months to reach the fifth reading. One cannot callously toss it away. If the senate wishes, we will look through it for another meeting."

"You all but delay this futile cause. I am going to file an official inquiry on the Vint case tomorrow, and will present to you the findings in a few weeks, your honors."

Larsa massaged his temples. "This bickering will get us nowhere. I call for a recess."

The doors were opened. The senators rose from their seats and exited the chamber with much muttering and hissing. Everyone except for Chancellor Drace and Emperor Larsa were left inside the room.

"Progress, my lord," Drace smiled wearily. He cupped Larsa's square shoulder.

"Yes, it would have gone much faster without Granch's incessant buzzing," Larsa sneered, taking a kerchief out of his pocket and dabbing his forehead. The skin under his diadem was exceptionally sweaty. The man's tone softened. "Thank you for switching your vote, Drace. I'm sure your sister would be proud."

"My sister devoted her entire life to your cause, Excellency. I would do the same."

"Thank you," was the only thing Larsa said, but wished he could say much more.

"After the recess, there is one more thing we have to discuss before the session adjourns."

"What is it?"

"The issue you've been avoiding for too long."

Emperor Larsa gulped. He feared this day would come.