Of course there's a room waiting for her, if she wishes to change. Of course Larsa would think of such things before Penelo can even ask. He leaves her at the door, the Judge Magister following him towards the courtyard near the end of the hall.
The room - of course - is as perfect as every other inch of the palace. Maybe not quite fancy enough for a royal room, but more than spacious enough for her needs, with a full-length mirror and a privacy screen. A basin of fresh water with pale yellow flowers floating on its surface at one end,with a long expanse of marble floor and a small table set off to one corner, beneath a wide window covered by an ornate iron trellis. It might well be the sort of room she would choose for herself, if she were to work here, a quiet place to get a good deal accomplished.
"Stop it." Penelo murmurs, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, letting it out slow. "Stop it right now."
Maybe she should have held off at the third glass of champagne, not that she's truly feeling the effects, sitting at the same table as an Emperor's heirs a rather remarkable boon to sobriety.
The Lord Consul's lying. He has to be lying, even if she can't imagine why he'd bother making requests when making demands takes much less time. Maybe he is, and she's just too dumb and provincial to know it.
Penelo stares into the mirror, one last moment with this other girl, a pretty Archadian with her hair and eyes and she can have this if she chooses, for today and tomorrow and who knows how long after. Penelo can live this life, if she's brave enough to try. Even before the Lord Consul had made his impossible offer, Penelo had been tallying up every bit of food on the table - the fish flown in fresh daily, the caviar that never passed a port less wealthy than Bhujerba - and if he had a taste for the new and the different she could offer him a dozen Dalmascan banquets before she'd risk repeating herself, and that's not even counting what they eat outside the city walls. If a little variety might put her in his favor - the Lord Consul is still dangerous, she's sure of it, but is he a danger to her?
Migelo will lose business, if she accepts. Business and friends and who knows what else. Dealing with the Lord Consul will make up for the missing gil, but not the damage to his reputation, and she'll be in House Solidor's pocket then, obviously not a place anyone with sense would want to be.
Penelo has sense. What she doesn't have are options - and if it works? If he makes things better, if Penelo can make a real difference for Rabanastre, does it even matter if they despise her for it?
So this is what you're worth, hm? The walls themselves might as well be talking to her, the palace of her homeland now claimed by outsiders, stirred by a lonesome desert wind - the king murdered, her family gone, Reks himself one of the last victims of the war. A few crumbs from his table and you're so willing to serve.
What should she do, elsewise? Throw his consideration back in his face? Forget that he had plans for Lowtown, and that no one else will give him reason to stay his hand?
Ah, and that's all it is? Such selflessness? Look at you, with those pretty gloves and pretty jewels. Be as high-minded as you like, you still know the truth of it.
The truth is Penelo never could have dreamed of a day like this, a tour of Bhujerba, a trip home aboard a private airship. Being treated like a lady, with servants and favors and easy conversation - a guest. She's in the palace, and even at the best of times her father had never walked the halls so freely. Isn't this what it's all about - isn't this the moment she's been waiting for? Deals like this just don't happen, not even once in a lifetime - what's all the hard work in the world worth if she's too afraid to take the risk, to reach for the opportunity when it comes?
"What would happen to us, you and me, if the Empire left tomorrow? I'd still be here with nothing, and you'd still be here."
It's Nia's voice arguing in her defense, proud and mercenary, cutting down the ghosts of Penelo's conscience, those whispers of shame and doubt - and she absolutely knows what the other girl's advice would be. Use the Lord Consul's favor to go as far and as high as she can, if that means working in the city or in a job running the coast, sourcing him the best catch of the day. Do what her father taught her - bury the rich man in luxuries, as long as it pays - and if he turns out to be such a monster and there's no way out, she can always poison him, or kill him in his sleep. No need to betray her conscience after all.
"Milady?"
The maid announces herself at the door, and she's holding Penelo's old clothes - although they don't look old anymore, washed and mended and ready to be worn. Her boots have been polished, too, and Penelo can see that they've even been resoled, a task she'd been putting off until she might cut a deal to afford doing both at once. It seems her whole life has been shined up and handed back to her, a parting gift.
Selling your soul for so little… The city chides.
Buy it back at wholesale. Nia snaps in response. What do you think happened to them, all those girls you think ought to be here? The Dalmascans who cut their deals before the war? I bet they don't think about you at all, or their duty to the country I bet their families are still alive. Penelo knew she had it in her to hurt, to mourn. She hadn't realized she could be this angry. You don't owe them your life, or your happiness.
Slowly and carefully, the dress and the gloves and the corset come off. Unlike Larsa, Penelo doesn't even forget to remove the earrings. If the servant is at all surprised by the clothes she's stepping into, or that the dress needs to be delivered elsewhere, she's too polite to show it. Penelo will have to think up a gift for Rhiale to repay her kindness. It might be best to wait for the wedding announcement, as good a chance as any that Migelo will be asked to set up that celebration as well. Whatever strange spark of luck has brought her here, Penelo hopes it will pass on to those she's met, that Rhiale will find someone here she might come to care for.
"Did you have a nice time today, milady?" The maid asks shyly, as Penelo tugs her bracelets into place, and reaches into her pocket - where Balthier's handkerchief is waiting, newly pressed and folded, because of course it is.
"I did," she says, and somehow it's true.
Penelo feels saner and safer back in her own clothes, although she still doesn't feel much like herself, even with every ornament gone and her hair braided back up into place. It seems like anyone who looks at her will be able to see every fear and doubt, all that she's done and that she might do, some new, Archadian understanding clinging to her even now.
Larsa is waiting in the gardens, though not without company. He is seated at the edge of a fountain, gently stroking the neck of a brilliant emerald chocobo, perhaps one of the ones she'd heard earlier. Behind him, a small, blue chick is hopping about in the water, its feathers only half a shade darker than the sky. They aren't a common breed in Dalmasca, perhaps a gift for the Lord Consul's arrival.
Unlike most other chocobos, the blues have webbing between their claws, spreading their feet out wide. At top speed on calm waters, they can even run along the surface of a pond or lake, though for a barely-hatched chick in a fountain this mostly means a lot of splashing and tossing water in all directions while looking bewildered by its utter failure. The green chocobo is irritated by such exuberance, ruffling its feathers each time a stray drop falls, sighing deeply when the chick trips awkwardly and lands beak-first in a gap in the statue at the center of the fountain, making muffled sounds of increasing panic as it tries and fails to pull itself out.
"Careful there. You'll hurt yourself."
Larsa comes to the rescue in an instant, ignoring the thorough soaking from the struggling bird and the calf-deep water, using his coat to wrap up the frantically kicking legs.
"Easy, it's all right now."
Carefully, he wraps one arm around the chocobo's body, his other hand gently guiding its head free.
"There now. No harm done."
The little bird chirrups in happiness. The green lets out another sigh. Larsa makes an attempt to wring out his coat, to seemingly little benefit. His hair is hanging in his eyes, right until he sweeps it back, tipping his head toward the sun with a smile, and Penelo feels a pang of protectiveness so sudden and sharp it takes her breath away.
He's worth the risk. Larsa's worth trusting, worth tossing aside every bit of payback she might deserve and loyalty Dalmasca might be due. Even if it goes wrong somehow, Penelo knows it won't be because he didn't fight for her, because he didn't try. If he's going to give her his kindness and his loyalty, the least she can do is believe in him, and do what she can in return.
A wark of curiosity breaks the silence, and then the blue chocobo is hopping around her, stubby wings flapping in excitement at discovering a new arrival. Penelo kneels down, running a hand along the damp, downy feathers, the bird still little more than a baby. When Larsa's shadow falls across them it chirps again, making a mad little figure-eight of glee around the both of them.
"And my plan to greet you smelling like wet bird is a rousing success," Larsa mutters, wet and wrinkled in his undershirt, the coat a lost cause.
"It suits you." Penelo says, because it does, and she has the suspicion that this is often the way it is with Larsa, and perhaps even with the Lord Consul. Leave a Solidor to their own devices for too long and they'll find some way of keeping themselves occupied, propriety be damned.
He's happy to see her, even though Penelo's back to being the girl who stumbled out of the mines, even though it ought to be clear to him now that there's no other girl she can be. The four of them make for an odd, slow parade across the grounds, the green chocobo mostly pacing alongside them, the blue chick running ahead or behind or failing to hop a hedge or catch some bug only it can see. The Judge Magister stands in the far corner of the garden, close enough to keep sight of them but far enough that they can speak without being overheard. It is as private as things have been since Bhujerba - though that has been only hours ago, not the lifetime it now seems.
"I am truly sorry, Penelo, for the loss of your family."
He is. Larsa honestly is, and maybe it shouldn't matter but it does. Mother would have adored him. Father would have been thrilled by Penelo being here at all, let alone making such a connection, and her brothers would have teased her mercilessly when they weren't busy asking him about ships and birds. Larsa would have been welcome in her home, and gladly. Penelo nods, not quite trusting her voice. Thankfully, he seems to understand.
"My Lord Brother should not have said that about Rabanastre."
"I did ask."
Larsa shakes his head. "You don't have to worry. He would never allow it."
Except the Lord Consul isn't the Emperor, and even an Emperor has advisors and Senators and Judge Magisters and who knows what else, with wars to plan and fight and win and people in great cities all making demands, and there's no saying what tomorrow might bring. Penelo's had a few years now, to learn how fast the world can change, and all the ways in which she is entirely expendable.
"It might not be in his power to change."
Larsa frowns, his expression thoughtful and distant, as if he has considered as much already. "The situation with Rozarria has not improved, and the Lord Consul's position here, so close to the border… he puts a great deal upon himself." True enough, though Penelo doesn't think Vayne Solidor would be satisfied with any less. "Too many have already suffered, there must be some way of making peace. We do not have to come to bloodshed."
"What are you thinking?" Penelo says, and she remembers the way Vayne had looked at his brother, annoyance covering for worry at even seeing him in the palace - and it was a risk for him to come here. Maybe a small risk, but Larsa had also gone to the mines in Bhujerba without a guard, with no idea what he might be walking into. As reckless an adventurer as Vaan, perhaps, but where Larsa's plans were that much more careful, the risks and consequences were surely far greater.
"Be careful," she says. "You shouldn't do anything dangerous."
"I must do what I can, to help my Lord Brother and my country." Larsa sees her worry, and his determination gentles slightly. "The stewardship of Archadia and her people is my obligation, as much as anyone else's. If I am to do right by my House, I cannot put anything else, not even myself, above their well being - or yours."
"We'll be fine." Penelo says, holding back the absurd urge to call for the Judge Magister, and she has the sudden thought that perhaps his real occupation is to protect Larsa from himself. "We survive, we always have." It makes her ill, to imagine him braving danger for her sake, and Penelo reaches for his hand before she realizes what she's doing, clutching it the same way she'd grab for any other child in Lowtown about to make some idiot mistake. "Promise me that you won't go into the city alone."
Larsa's not a Lowtown orphan, though, and she can't ask him to do anything, let alone demand it… even though that's exactly what she's doing. Penelo drops her eyes, and knows she ought to apologize, even if he is not quick to draw his hand away.
"I dare say I would prefer it if you were my guide. I have rarely found Bhujerba more enjoyable." Penelo's the one who reached for him, and she's still startled by how close they're standing. "Might I call on you, when things have calmed down?"
It's difficult enough to consider a business proposition, that the Lord Consul wants her here because she's useful, because she'll serve some purpose. It's another matter entirely, when there's no pragmatism to be found. If Larsa was too polite to simply throw her out on her ear, Penelo had at least expected his embarrassment, an awkward distaste at realizing she was every bit the commoner she seemed. Instead, he seems to think this is only the first day of their acquaintance, blind to everything she can see as the obvious barrier to anything but a temporary alliance.
"Larsa… I'm not…" Penelo makes a vague gesture at her clothes and her - her everything. "This is me, who I am. Just this."
He's looking at her - and he doesn't stop looking. The same steady gaze as his brother, though it makes her nervous for entirely different reasons.
"I don't know exactly who you are, Penelo, that is true - but I would very much like to learn."
Is she blushing? Penelo shouldn't be blushing. It's just one of those things refined gentlemen do, that his words all sound like compliments. The brilliant and charming Archadian noblewomen Larsa no doubt spends the rest of his time with, they'd know exactly how to respond, but coy flirtation is the one dance Penelo's never learned the steps to. Rather useless, when she'd been busy enough with living, and afterward there'd never been a compliment that hadn't come without a price attached, calling her pretty in the hopes of a discount, or some way of sneaking into Migelo's favor. It should be the same with Larsa, but nothing at all is the same with him. If he were any other boy she'd have already thought about how handsome he is - and he is - but it seemed so obvious and silly and pointless to make note of it and she really does need to stop blushing.
"Wark!"
"Kupo!"
Thankfully, while she's been stumbling through new ways to be ridiculous, the green chocobo has been scouring the gardens for food, shiny objects and threats - and there's no telling which it thinks the moogle dangling from its beak might be. The bird has thankfully only grabbed their new arrival by his accoutrements, and the moogle flails at it for a moment before sighing in resignation. The blue chick hops up and down, chirping with excitement as Larsa frowns, though there's a good deal of amusement hiding in his eyes as he steps up to the chocobo, arms crossed.
"If you would be so kind?"
The bird chirps, the sound oddly muffled around a mouthful of belt, and tilts its head, reluctant to let go of its prize. Larsa clears his throat a bit more sternly, and the beak snaps open, the moogle's wings fluttering just fast enough for him to land on his feet. Penelo assumes he's here for Larsa, startled after a moment's pause to realize the moogle is holding the document case out to her instead. The green chocobo preens at its feathers as if it never had an interest in any of them.
The case bears a wax seal, the blue crest of House Solidor in miniature. Archadians are amazingly fussy with their contracts but at least it means there's always a copy somewhere - they do tend to keep to their word when it's all set down in script and gilding. Penelo unrolls a pair of documents, physical evidence of the unbelievable, should she need the reminder. An official contract to become the Lord Consul's advisor, just waiting on her signature - and a full pardon for Vaan of 'any and all crimes for which the accused has been charged or sentenced for.'
Penelo rubs her thumb over Migelo's crest, the one he had her come up with for just these sort of contracts. Of course Vayne would know how to find it. He probably knew everything about her before she'd ever left the room. Penelo had been the one to create it - the silhouettes of three birds in flight, one for each of them, after Migelo had insisted she and Vaan be included, rising above a field of white wildflowers that had always been her mother's favorite. Penelo had sketched it fast out without much thought, and she'd never really considered what it would look like, how official it would be in paint and gold.
"My Lord Brother is quite skilled at choosing those best suited for the task." Larsa says. "I hope you will consider his offer."
Penelo thinks that maybe, she might have said no to the Lord Consul. If she tried, she might have convinced him that it was just too dangerous for those who depended on her, that she wouldn't be strong enough to choose helping Dalmasca over being hated by it.
Saying no to Larsa is just not going to happen.
The city bell rings out, faintly audible even from inside the palace, and it isn't that late but it makes for a good excuse.
"I need to go."
"You are still determined to make your own way home?"
"It isn't far."
Larsa bites at his lip slightly, and for all his wise words and thoughtful moods, for a moment he looks exactly his age. Even the chocobos seem to notice the change in his mood, the green leaning in to nudge him with its beak, the blue warbling uncertainly near her kneecaps.
"It's silly of me," Larsa says, "but it feels like once I let you leave, you will disappear forever. Promise me that you won't?"
Penelo is rather sure she's used up all her life's surprises with today. The only thing that might keep them apart is Migelo never letting her out of the shop again.
"If you promise me that you'll stay in the palace."
Larsa nods. "All right, I promise. If you'll agree to keep something safe for me."
The Judge Magister is still on the far side of the courtyard, too distant to see it when he takes the Nethicite from his pocket and hands it to her.
"Larsa, I can't take this."
But when he folds her fingers around it - she lets him.
"If I am found with it, there will be trouble and scolding." He grins, the sort of smile that could convince anyone do anything. "You can't possibly wish such a fate on me."
"You said it was valuable. Rare." Priceless, actually. Penelo's pretty certain it's priceless - and suddenly sure that what she's feeling is more than just simple protectiveness. Oh dear.
"It is. So I know I can trust you to be careful with it, until we see each other again."
How is it that he can say such things, and they always carry the weight they're supposed to? Penelo's a trader five generations deep, the whole business is about fancy words and fancier promises, pleasant flatteries that mean nothing even before they're said - but it isn't that way with Larsa.
Penelo's wanted nothing more than to escape the palace from the moment she set foot inside, but now it seems to take all her strength to step out through the gate. The blue chick tries to follow her, and there's a moment of laughter to break the tension as they corral him back into the gardens, the green bird nestling down to play grudging nanny to the adorable menace.
"Thank you, Larsa, for everything."
Out of the corner of her eye, Penelo can see her own warped reflection in the Magister's armor, standing right beside them now that Larsa's near the exit. Gabranth must hate the very idea of her - pardon certainly hadn't been on his mind in Bhujerba, but whatever he thinks of all that's happened, the meal or the offer Vayne has made or even the heat of day, there's nothing but silence behind the helm.
Larsa smiles. "The pleasure was mine."
Halfway down the path toward the outer wall, Penelo glances back, half-certain he's already gone. Larsa is still there watching her, and raises a hand in farewell. She returns the gesture, and nearly walks into the guardsman waiting at the bottom of the path. The soldier bows to her, and Penelo takes one more moment to savor it, this strange world that has paused to allow her a glimpse inside, and then she's alone again at the edge of Rabanastre.
It feels strange just walking home, each step oddly off-balance, as if the world around her is no longer as vast as the world inside her head. Penelo picks at the wax seal on the case until it's a meaningless blob, until the case might contain any sort of missive or inventory from one of Migelo's rich clients. The Nethicite is hardly a weight at all, but Penelo is aware of even the slightest shift of it in her pocket - invaluable and entrusted to her. A promise and a secret, just for the two of them - and she's blushing again.
The carefully paved lanes around the palace give way to more roughly cobbled paths, and Penelo ducks into a shortcut along an empty side street. With no one to see, she lifts up on her toes and spins for the sheer joy of doing so, scraping free small puffs of dirt and swinging her arms around like a child. The city is safe for the moment, and Vaan's safety has been ensured by the hand of the Lord Consul himself.
"Penelo?"
The voice, low and smooth, doesn't startle her. Turning to see the viera who's hailed her, now that is a bit of a surprise. It's Krjn, from the clan hall. Penelo knows of her, even though they've never spoken - viera tend to be well known, with so few of them in town - though she can't imagine what Montblanc's partner would ever need from her. The expression on her face must betray the sort of day she's had, she can see the viera's expression soften, one hand raised as if she were a nervous beast in need of calming.
"I have been sent for you, by… recent acquaintances of negotiable repute, as well as friends who wish to see you safe. They wait for you outside the city. I will take you to them."
If it were anyone else, Penelo might yet be skeptical, but she's not even certain a viera can lie, let alone whether they'd ever bother.
"Penelo!?"
"Oi, Pen!"
Penelo stifles a grimace as two more voices bash their way into the moment, Kytes and Filo tumbling around the corner with equal expressions of curiosity and excitement. Always looking for some new mischief, far too good at getting involved at business they ought to leave alone and she can see they've clearly marked her as the best entertainment to be had. Which is fine, as long as she can at least keep them in the dark about where she's been.
"I told you it was her." Kytes says. "We saw you come from the palace!"
Damn it all.
"We heard from Migelo, that they took you to Bhujerba. He's worrying his tail off. Was it really sky pirates?" Filo doesn't look as much relieved at Penelo's safety as annoyed that she didn't get abducted too. "How did you get away? Are the pirates still around?"
"Why were you in the palace?" Kytes asks. "Did you go to steal something like Vaan did? What'd you get?"
"What happened?" Filo says, the two of them talking over each other. "Who's the viera? Is that the one that was with the sky pirate?"
Penelo swears she hears Krjn snort softly, but the viera's expression doesn't change and there's no more time to consider it before Kytes is tugging at the scroll case in her hand.
"What's that? Where's Vaan? Why'd you go to the palace?"
"Okay. Okay, wait." Penelo takes a step back, keeping the case firmly out of reach, trying for her best serious adult voice that occasionally almost works. "I need to go now, but I'll be back soon. I need you both to go tell Migelo that I'm safe, and that Vaan's safe. Tell him we'll be home as soon as we can. Don't say any more about sky pirates, or the palace and… and tell him not to panic if the Lord Consul sends any notes."
Or shows up at the door. Before today she thought she had at least some idea of what Vayne Solidor was about, restricted by the sensibilities of his status if nothing else, but now Penelo is certain she has no idea what he is truly capable of.
"What do you mean if…?" Kytes starts, but there's no good way to explain that and thankfully Krjn seems to understand the need for a quick retreat, already moving up the street, Penelo stepping backward as fast as she can follow, tossing platitudes to cover her escape.
"Everything's okay. Just tell him not to worry. It's all going to be okay."
Penelo vanishes as quickly as she'd appeared, following the viera down another street and out of sight, moving toward the East gate. Who knows where she's going? Who knows where she'd been? Usually she's the one scolding them for not being where they're supposed to be or doing whatever work she thinks they ought to be busy with. It's not like she doesn't take care of them, but Penelo can be kind of boring when she's not getting kidnapped.
"Where is she going with that viera?" Filo says, still convinced she would have made the much better hostage. "And what was she doing at the palace?"
"That was an Archadian contract." Kytes says. "Why do you think she had it?"
"Sky pirates?"
"The Lord Consul?"
The two of them look at each other, and start to giggle.
Penelo's going to be in so much trouble.