12. Hypnotize
...
After the assassination of King Lucias, all powers descended to the Council. Under the leadership of Brutias Rhys, descendant of King Archadias's closest advisor, Barbanas, the council focused on political reform. No longer would they live in a monarchy under a corrupt King. And so the Republic of Archadia was born. A new council of twelve members was created, and they called themselves the Senate.
– DURAI, "The Truth Of The Matter"
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...
"Kweh," the chocobo called, initiating their run through the Tchita Uplands. The thumping of the bird's racing feet filled Larsa's ears as they rode down a large hill, the grass beneath them rustling in the harsh wind. The skies, gray and cloudy, unsettled him with warning of an approaching storm. At the bottom of the hill, another chocobo stood proudly. Larsa pulled the reigns, halting his chocobo to a complete stop next to the other bird.
It was Vayne who mounted it, and he didn't even spare a glance at Larsa. Instead, he focused intently on something ahead of him.
Larsa felt irritated at his brother. "Why are we here?" he asked, "You know I dislike hunting."
Vayne's lips curved slightly at the question. "You have a soft heart, Larsa. And that is your greatest fault."
Offended, Larsa wanted to argue that his compassion was in fact his greatest strength, but before he could speak, Vayne lifted his hand to point at something ahead. "Take a look at those coeurls, Larsa."
Rude. Larsa closed his mouth into a tight scowl, but he did as his brother requested. Two fully-grown male coeurls circled each other, fangs exposed in warning, growling in a dance of danger. A small hare, fluffy and cute, shivered between them. "They hunt for the same hare," Vayne explained, "What shall they do?"
Larsa analysed the situation before him. One coeurl was much closer to the hare, and he inferred it must have claimed it first. He imagined what he would do if he was that coeurl. It was always best to avoid bloodshed. "The first who saw the hare should give to the second. It is not worth the fight. They can find another."
Vayne's lips curved into a smirk. "But there is only one hare in this entire land."
How absurd, Larsa thought, and he grew even more irritated. Still, he entertained his brother nonetheless. "Then they should share it."
"Don't be a fool. Half a hare is not enough to satisfy either of them. They will die as long as the other lives."
But before he could tell Vayne how silly it was to claim that there was only one hare in the entire span of the Tchita Uplands, he found that neither his brother nor his chocobo were there.
"Vayne?" he called, his heart racing in a panic. He could not lose his brother, not again. "Vayne!"
But there was no answer – the wind howled, and nothing more.
Then, the growling of the coeurls intensified, and he turned to see the second approaching the first. Its growling grew louder, nastier, until it snapped its jaw around the other's throat, sinking teeth into the pulsing flesh. The first coeurl fell, bleeding to death as the second claimed both coeurl and hare alike as its prey to feast on.
Larsa tore his gaze away from the gruesome sight, instead looking down at his hands. His hands…
They were stained with blood.
And somehow, he knew, it was his brother's.
...
...
Larsa woke in a cold sweat, his chest heaving.
What had he dreamt about? There was a coeurl… killing another? Then eating it? But coeurls didn't eat their own kind… passing strange, he thought.
Vayne was there. Why must his late brother haunt his dreams further? When would it end?
Penelo had said that dreams were meant to bring unresolved issues to light.
Did he still bear guilt for Vayne's death? For taking part in it? It was not he alone who fought Vayne that day on the Bahamut, and yet he continued to blame himself as though he were. There was also to consider the fact that Vayne threatened the safety of Ashe and her party first. It was self-defense; a killing under such circumstance was permissible under the law. There was no guilt to bear, and yet it continued to weigh heavy on his heart.
Vayne was threatening not only our safety, but the lives of every citizen of Rabanastre: would he have continued the use of nethicite, the city's paling would not hold. It was necessary to stop him. We did the right thing.
Vayne wanted war. He challenged Larsa to stand up and fight back. He smirked as Larsa drew his blade; he welcomed it. So why did Larsa feel guilty? Why must his subconscious continue to torture him?
"Stop it, stop it," Larsa shook his head, cradling it between his hands. That time has passed, and I should be looking forward. Today is to be a good day. I have just announced my plan to rid of the Chop System and it was met with applause. There are better things to worry over now.
Larsa continued to console himself as he got washed and dressed for the day.
...
...
As Larsa buttoned the cuffs of his shirt sleeves, Basch arrived to greet him as he did every morning.
Usually, Basch was bright and cheery at the sun's first rise; however, today, as he removed his helmet, he looked less like a proud Judge Magister and more like a lost dog.
"Lord Larsa, good morning," Basch greeted, drops of sweat running down his forehead. "May I have a word?"
"Good morning to you, Basch," Larsa said, frowning, "You look troubled; Are you alright?"
"Yes my lord," Basch said, looking completely not alright. "Please understand I do not wish to sour your morning. However, there is something you must see."
"What is it?"
"I have just received the first response to your announcement last night: a new issue of the Tsenoble Report. I fear… it does not go in your favour, my lord." Basch's face was solemn as he handed Larsa the paper.
What Larsa saw on the front page was far worse than any of his nightmares.
The End of the Chop System: the End of Archadia's Prosperity?
by Joras Rickard
That was an alarming headline certain to scare anyone. What gentry propaganda is this?
Was the article as false as the headline? No doubt it would be. Larsa skimmed through the words, filtering out any useless details.
"I wish to end the Chop System," Emerpor Larsa Solidor announced at the end of his speech for the annual Midsummer Festival last night, much to the shock of all gentry in attendance.
Lord Larsa argues that the Chop System, which was first established over two-hundred years ago at the dawning of the Empire, has tainted the morality of the Archadian people. "…In our pursuit of perfection, we have lost our way, becoming a people obsessed with power and status," he says. "We would do anything to gain the power we believe we rightfully deserve. We sacrifice our integrity, disregard kindness and compassion, pushing others down as we ascend."
In abolishing the Chop System, Lord Larsa also plans to eliminate the chop requirements to enter Archades. This would allow all citizens of the Empire, credentials or no, to enter the city. However, this would also include foreigners from Dalmasca and even Rozarria to enter Archades as they will. His Excellency asks us to "Imagine an Archades where you are free – to enter as you like, to think and speak as you would, without fear of losing all you have earned and all that you have built – where you are free to simply be."
In his reign since Vayne Solidor's death in 706, Lord Larsa has shown no hesitation in taking from the gentry. On that fateful day when the Bahamut fell from the sky and Archadia lost the battle over Rabanastre, His Excellency granted sovereignty to Dalmasca, losing many valuable resources for the Empire. Soon after, the Council of Ivalice was born, and its members decided at the first State of the World summit that the Empire would pay for all war damages to Dalmasca. Lord Larsa complied without argument, stating that it was "the first step towards building peace between our nations."
In further efforts to build what he claims as "peace," it appears His Excellency has decided to use the wealth of the gentry class as nothing more than a tool to build with. When the Orbonne bill was passed in 708, it was the tax money from the gentry class that paid the most of it, with no reward to show for our efforts.
With no future tax breaks in sight, and now with this announcement, His Excellency's new endeavor has most of us gentry apprehensively holding on to our chops. For what else remains to us than our dignity?
Larsa didn't wish to read any more of it.
So the gentry were displeased with his announcement? It was of no surprise; but rather, expected. However, this article was nothing more than a scare tactic to ignite paranoia in the masses, and that could only lead to trouble.
"Perhaps there is hope," Basch offered, as though reading Larsa's worried thoughts. "We have yet to receive any letters from citizens. In time we should see words of support."
Larsa looked up from the article to see Basch's optimistic smile. "Yes," Larsa nodded, "You're right."
What was one article, written from one man's perspective, when there were thousands of citizens within the city's walls? There was no reason to worry just yet. Give it time, and we will see what the city has to say. Everything will be fine.
He wished he could believe his own words.
...
...
Penelo had no recollection of when she finally fell asleep the night before, if she had at all. The Midsummer Festival was... a lot to digest. The dance with Larsa was executed perfectly, and Penelo had the opportunity to meet all four Senate Leaders, finding two possible suspects in Caine and Garamondt. However, she failed to charm either of them, and had a disagreement with Caine in particular. Worst of all: Balthier was caught by Rhys and sent off to some jail cell of which the whereabouts were unknown.
Now that she thought about it, Penelo never got an answer from Rhys as to where Balthier was being taken. Perhaps that kiss he gave was meant for nothing more than to distract her...
A blush warmed her face as she brought a hand to where the senator had kissed her cheek. Danfordt Rhys was handsome, while also kind and unprejudiced for an Archadian nobleman, not unlike Larsa. After last night, it was clear to Penelo he had an interest in her. But how much of it was genuine, and how much of it was for "the public eye," as he had said about relationships involving public officials. Balthier said everyone in Archades had an agenda. Was Penelo a part of it? Me, with an Archadian Senator? How could I ever think that?
Perhaps it was best if she kept her distance.
Then, her stomach sank at the sudden reality of her plight. The reason above all else why sleep never took her: She was supposed to send a letter to Ashe, but she couldn't bear to write all of her mistakes onto the page, so instead she tossed and turned with it all in her head.
I allowed Balthier to get tangled into all this mess. I got him arrested. I traded vital information to a reporter in exchange for a wild chocobo chase set by Jules. Ashe is going to call this off as soon as she finds out and I won't be able to stay here and help Larsa, or my country for that matter.
Not that anything she's done so far has helped. She was turning out to be the worst ambassador, ever.
However, there was little time to ruminate over her failures. She had an endorsement deal to sign with Augustia's Gowns. If association with a prominent designer was going to help her gain favour with these people, it was worth a try. Larsa had said it was a good idea.
Besides, she looked pretty in that dress.
She supposed it was reason enough.
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...
Black ink flowed smoothly from the golden feather pen as Penelo signed her name onto the document. The agreement was that she would model a dress each day for the remainder of her stay in Archades until the Council of Ivalice State of the World Summit, and she was allowed to keep five of them.
Penelo placed the pen back in its holder with a flourish that signalled finality. "It's a done deal," she proudly announced, turning away from the wooden office desk to hand Augustia the clipboard and attached endorsement contract. "I'm all yours."
"Thank you, darling, I much look forward to working together." Red lips shined as Augustia smiled down at the document, then at Penelo. "Now: it's about time we put on today's dress. Shall we?" With her small, graceful hand, Augustia gestured towards the door of her office.
A dress was already hanging behind the red curtains of the fitting room, ready for Penelo to try on. It was cerulean blue with gold accents and geometric patterns; a two-piece dress just like the one before, light to keep cool in the summer. This one was strapless, with heavy necklaces to cover the empty space on her neck and shoulders. Augustia brought in more gold jewelry pieces to decorate Penelo's arms.
"I imagined a cerulean dress on you would look like the sky meeting the sun," Augustia stepped back to marvel at her work, auburn hair and green eyes shining. "I was right."
In this dress that hugged her figure, elegant yet stiff, Penelo looked every bit a proper Archadian lady.
"Now- let's style your hair to match." Augustia waved for Penelo to follow her out of the fitting room. A vanity mirror stood at the back of the store, a station with the purpose of styling customer's hair for special occasions. Penelo sat in the parlor chair, mahogany with plush burgundy cushions. Her reflection looked half a corpse from her restless night, dark circles under her eyes, just like Larsa. Is this what Archades does to people?
If Augustia noticed, she didn't say anything; to that Penelo was grateful.
At such an early hour, the store had yet to open, leaving only sparkling gowns and mannequins to keep them company. In the quiet stillness of the empty boutique, Penelo saw a safe opportunity to ask Augustia an important question. "Augustia, what did you think of Larsa's announcement?"
Augustia sprayed Penelo's loose hair with product that smelled of rose and lilac. "Yes, I did," red lips parted to reveal a glowing grin. "And I must say, I think it's all very exciting!"
"You do?"
"Yes, of course!" Augustia picked up a gold comb to run through Penelo's hair, carefully untangling any knots left behind. The gentle scratch on Penelo's scalp was a welcome comfort in her anxious state. It reminded her of growing up with her mom, who would comb and braid her hair every morning. "With the gates open, women from all over Ivalice can visit Archades and wear my dresses!"
Was that all she cared about? How the bill could help her business? "That's great," Penelo said, "But aren't you worried about how things will change? How your chops won't mean anything anymore? More designers would emerge and you'd have more competition. Doesn't that scare you?"
Augustia waved her free hand in dismissal. "Of course not, my dear; I am not so insecure as that. A confident and competent business owner would consider this a fun challenge to put their creativity and skills to the test. If anything, this new Archades could only reveal the ugliness and frailty of closed minds."
Oh. "You surprise me. I figured most gentry would disagree with it."
Augustia gently pulled all of Penelo's hair back and tied it together to prepare for an updo. "I follow my own mind, not any words in the papers," with grace and precision, she divided Penelo's hair in three even sections to start a braid, "I still await the day everyone else decides to join me."
Interesting. Augustia put Penelo's hair up in a currently trending style for women in Archades: pinned up in an elaborate braided bun, with wisps of wavy hair on the sides and adorned with gold accessories. After Augustia secured the hair with a holding spray, Penelo gazed into her reflection, turning her head side to side to admire the gleam off the golden rose pinned into the bun.
"You look like an Empress."
Penelo glanced at Augustia through the mirror, who was smiling warmly as she admired her work. "You said that last time," Penelo noticed, "What makes you think I look like an Empress?"
"'Tis an idea one cannot help but imagine, considering your close friendship with Lord Larsa."
"What?" Penelo gasped.
"Did you see the way he looked at you last night? Or were you blinded by how brightly he was glowing?"
"Ah-Hmm," Penelo choked on her own words, not sure what to say. Larsa hadn't looked at her any different than he usually would: Like he always had... relaxed eyes, a warm smile, attentive. With that open heart of his, that was how he looked at everyone, certainly?
Right?
"Hmmm so you were blinded indeed. A pity." Augustia shook her head. "Well- you will see it soon enough." She lifted Penelo's chin to get a better look at her. "Perhaps when your eyes are not so tired. In the meantime, I have something to brighten them."
Augustia reached over to grab a small tin can from the vanity dresser and removed the lid with a pop. With practiced fingers, Augustia lightly dabbed beige cream under Penelo's eyes until it was well blended with her skin. "There. Better." Augustia smiled as she pulled away.
It was as though Penelo had a full night's rest; the dark circles were gone. In Rabanastre, she never wore makeup outside of performances. If she was tired, everyone knew, and they would bring her cactoid flower tea to help her find sleep. But Archades was a different culture, and it was of no surprise that in a city where one is expected to be perfect, everyone did their best to conceal their faults and suffering.
After placing the makeup down on the dresser, Augustia made her way behind Penelo and gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze, both women gazing into the mirror. "I see a young woman who could bring a brighter future to both our countries; what do you see?"
Penelo took a deep breath, and on exhale, said, "An imposter."
"Now, now," Augustia rejected Penelo's claim with a wave of her finger, letting go of her shoulders to step around the chair and face her. "You are a dancer, correct? You choreograph routines, and put together shows? You decide every last detail, down to the costumes?"
"Yes," Penelo nodded. That's right. I'm so much more confident in Rabanastre, in Dalmasca... but here it's like I'm nothing. I feel so small...
With dramatic flair, Augustia brought a pointed finger to Penelo's forehead, giving her a slight nudge. "Then use that creative mind of yours to repaint your self-image. An effective tactic, I assure you. I have used it many times." Augustia stepped back and offered a smile, compassionate and maternal. "I see much bigger things for Archades – and you."
Penelo stood up from the chair, spine tall and shoulders back. Perhaps there was hope to fix all of her mistakes. "Thank you, Augustia. I'll try."
"There is no need to try, darling. Just do." Augustia offered one last smile, along with her hand. "Good luck today."
Penelo gave her hand a firm shake, grateful for the other woman's support. Augustia was able to make Penelo look and feel brand new without even the use of potions or white magicks. More importantly, she made Penelo feel a bit less alone in a foreign country.
Repaint myself- got it. I can figure out who's spreading the rumors, and who's trying to kill Larsa. I can free Balthier. I can charm those Senators and help Larsa get his bill passed. I can turn things around. I can be a better Ambassador.
Maybe if she repeated it like a mantra she would start to believe it.
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...
Penelo left Augustia's Gowns to allow the seamstress to focus on preparing her boutique for the business day. In the early hour of the morning, the district of Tsenoble was just starting to come to life. The gentry's most punctual members were already up and going, shuffling along the cobblestone streets in their doublets and dresses, ready for the new day of work and opportunities. The first aircabs dispatched from Central whirred just above, reflecting the amber glow of the rising sun.
A newsstand was set up just down the street from Augustia's, in the middle of Tsenoble's busiest shopping center. The Tsenoble Report just put out today's issue, and people were lining up to read everything that happened at the Midsummer Festival. Anxious to know what the gentry response was to Larsa's announcement, Penelo purchased a copy.
The front page was enough of a shock to pull her down a Giza rabbit hole.
"The End of the Chop System: the End of Archadia's Prosperity?" Penelo read aloud, dismayed. A blatant lie on the headline of the front page. She shouldn't have been surprised, but there was a part of her that hoped Senator Rhys was wrong when he said the gentry's applause to Larsa's speech was just for show. She had hoped at least some of those claps were out of genuine support.
Even worse, the article was written by Joras Rickard. Had he spilled the info she gave him on the trade deal? Oh crap. Penelo's heart raced as she scanned the article, eyes darting left to right.
Thankfully, no words exposed a trade deal, and Penelo could live another day. However, every word was used to build a story about Larsa sabotaging the success of his own country.
How could they betray their own Emperor like this? All Larsa ever did was try to make the world a better place; he didn't deserve this backlash.
Penelo had a feeling this wasn't the only article in the paper attacking Larsa. With haste, she flipped through the pages, the paper crinkling noisily in the quiet morning. The second article was a large summary of the gentry-exclusive Midsummer Gala, including her dance with Larsa, which was described as "a beautiful display of art with questionable intentions."
The fashion page had an article highlighting the best and worst outfit choices at the gala, reviewing each outfit in great detail, with Augustia's Naldoan Sea dress ranking high on the "best" list. At least I did one thing right, Penelo thought.
Once Penelo reached towards the end of the paper, she found the Letters to the Editor. Most letters were written by citizens in response to specific articles from the previous issue, however there was a column dedicated to letters written to the Report at large – addressed to the Editor-in-Chief. As Penelo skimmed them, she caught sight of Larsa's name mentioned, and chose to read further.
To Lord Jurias Rhys,
Lord Larsa's announcement to abolish the Chop System was appalling, marking a cold end to the Midsummer Festival. I and many other gentry in attendance agree that the Report is responsible to open a public forum on this bill as it is with utmost importance we put a stop to this atrocious attack on Archadian culture.
- A Concerned Citizen of Tsenoble
Penelo had to roll her eyes at that. Your precious culture is toxic. The only thing you should be concerned about is learning how to be a better person.
If one letter was enough to get her blood boiling, she felt it was best not to read further, for the sake of her health. She flipped to the last page: the Rumors section.
Whispers about everything and everyone were submitted anonymously to the Report, and the juiciest ones were chosen for print. Penelo recognized the Occurian-style rhyming couplets about Larsa still in circulation, however...
There was a new rumor.
So high, he sits upon his throne of lies,
So frail, he soon will fall right through the skies
Penelo's breath was taken, the newspaper crumpling in her trembling grip. Fall right through the skies? Penelo panicked. Do they plan to push him off the Palace? Finally ripping her eyes from the paper, she whipped around to look at the striking tower of the Imperial Palace, and imagined a haunting image of Larsa falling off it towards his gruesome death below. Tears welled in her eyes, clouding her vision.
Would someone really murder him, all to maintain their status quo? I can't let this happen...
Sending out this message now, the day after Larsa's announcement to the public, felt more a threat than any of the other rumors. Whoever was writing these was serious. They've declared war on Larsa, and they wish to execute their plan soon. A poor choice of words, Penelo thought as her tears started falling.
What do I do now?
As curious people began to notice her crying, Penelo quickly grabbed a handkerchief to absorb her tears, dabbing gently as not to undo the work Augustia had done on her face. After, she returned her gaze to the cityscape before her. The diamond-shaped building known as the Senate Chambers gleamed in the morning sun, beckoning her.
I bet Caine knows something about these rumors.
He was her main suspect, or at least the most accessible one, as the Chairman had no interest in speaking with her. There was also the comment Caine had made about serpents that reminded Penelo of the previous rumor. Plus he had a connection to Jules...
Penelo set forth to the Senate Chambers, chin held high in her march towards a battle she was not sure she was prepared to fight.
...
...
The Senate Chambers was busier than last Penelo saw it. Outside the front entrance, guards fended off curious reporters desperate for the Senate's opinion on Larsa's bill. In the lobby, postal workers were shuffling in and out, carrying large bags of envelopes to be delivered to members of the Senate.
Penelo marched right up to the receptionist, a woman named Anne with red hair tied up in a fashionable bun not unlike Penelo's own.
Upon Penelo's request, Anne pressed a button on a device that would allow her to speak with Caine directly from his office. "Senator Caine," she spoke into the microphone on her desk, "Ambassador Penelo is here to see you."
"Ambassador Penelo, you say?" the Senator's voice was muffled through the device, yet Penelo could hear the curiosity and opportunism. "Send her in."
Penelo was directed to the top floor, where only the Leaders held offices. Out of the elevator, down the hall, fourth door on the right. Once she arrived, she pressed the doorbell, repeating in her mind what she wished to say to Senator Caine.
She was here to find out if he was responsible for the rumors, yet she couldn't just ask him directly; even if he was the one behind them, he wouldn't tell her. She had to go about it in a subtle way.
With a soft hiss, the door slid open, and Caine stood before her in a dark gray doublet, matching trousers, and a loose belled shirt. "Ambassador Penelo," he greeted her with a wicked smile. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit? After our disagreement last night, I must say I feared you would not wish to see me again."
Repaint yourself, Penelo repeated her mantra. You are no longer Penelo the street dancer. You are Ambassador Penelo of Dalmasca, and you will conduct yourself as though you are royalty and refuse to take no for an answer. You will be like Ashe.
Penelo matched his smirk with one of her own, holding her chin high. "Well, you were wrong about me."
Caine's chuckle was a low rumble of delight. "I am glad to see it." He stepped aside, waving her in. "Welcome to my office. Please, have a seat."
Two well-cushioned chairs and a coffee table stood in the center of his office, a large space of all dark wood and green accents. Penelo sat in the green cushions of the chair, spine straight and ankles crossed: her best imitation of a proper Archadian lady. When she looked at the wall across her, a painting of two identical pale hume faces in dramatic lighting hung above Caine's desk. It appeared to be a pair of twins, or perhaps the same person painted twice. A brunette woman displayed exaggerations of two vastly opposing emotions: joy and sadness. An actress, perhaps?
"Coffee?" Caine offered, holding a glass coffee press and ceramic cup, "Rozarrian press." Penelo accepted, watching the steam rise as Caine poured her a cup. Penelo took it with cream and sugar, and she admitted the stronger flavor of the coffee was preferred over the gentle Archadian teas.
Penelo studied her surroundings, comparing the office to that of Senator Rhys's. Instead of books on history, there were books on wine and farming. Bottles of BACCHUS brand wine, whiskey and bourbon lined the shelves, a display of pride.
Most notably of all, the light was especially dim for an office.
"You keep your office awfully dark," Penelo remarked, "Did you drink too much last night?" Rude, Penelo admitted, but Caine had said at the gala that he preferred her "brutal Dalmascan honesty."
Her tease was met with a wry smile. "Hm-hmm," Caine chuckled, returning to his seat behind his desk. "Nay, I am not so reckless as that. I keep my office dark as I am prone to headaches that leave my eyes sensitive to light."
Penelo could see it, then: the dark circles under his weary eyes, the way he gently massaged his temples with thumb and forefinger. A sleepless night, perhaps? Penelo knew that all too well. A sleepless night after a party was a well recipe for a headache. "Funny," she said, "Larsa has those same headaches."
"One of the few experiences we share, I assure you."
After a sip of coffee, Penelo placed her cup down. "You think you're so different from him, huh?" She challenged. "Why is that? Last night you kept going on about how he and the other gentry were born with privilege, and that the noble houses today benefit from the reputation and inheritances of their ancestors. That they didn't work to get what they have."
Caine leaned forward on his desk, resting his chin on clasped hands. "That's correct."
"But Larsa's different than most gentry," Penelo argued, doing best to keep calm, her shoulders relaxed. "He uses his privilege to give back to those in need, not hoarding it for himself. The citizens of Orbonne are reliant on his mercy now, yes, but because of what Larsa has given, they have a chance to build a future of stability on their own. And this bill could make it easier for them to sustain a life here."
"Ah, is this why you came?" Caine lifted his brows, "To preach to me?"
"No," Penelo shook her head. "I wanted to ask you a few questions. And I know you're not one to hold back on the truth, no matter how harsh it is."
Thin lips curved into a smile. "Is that so? Well then," He unlaced his fingers, sitting up. "What do you wish to know?"
Penelo got right to it. "Last night you said about Larsa, 'the serpent doesn't slither far from its nest.' What did you mean by that?" It was subtle enough, and perhaps it wouldn't get her any real answers, but in Archades any bit of knowledge was worth something, and could be used as a piece to solve a greater puzzle.
The smirk that usually pulled at the senator's lips released, and like night to day, Caine went from court jester to court Judge. "Of that I was referring to his cunning nature that he shares with his late brother. I am aware you disagree, but I must urge you to heed my words, Ambassador."
He had her attention, certainly, his solemn grey eyes holding hers in a firm grip. It was then she finally noticed the red veins that weaved across the white of his eyes, threatening to take over. Penelo brought the coffee cup to her lips and drank modestly, waiting.
"First, he forms the Council of Ivalice to coerce the Empire into paying for Rabanastre's reparations. Next, he establishes Orbonne to add to the ardent population, so he can then use those numbers to pressure the Senate to vote in favor of his bill. When he reinstated the Senate, we had hoped it meant he intended to cooperate with us, but it was not so. Vayne, too, once feigned smiles to charm his enemies before striking them. You would know well from experience."
That last comment was meant to drive Penelo to his side, but she wouldn't allow it. She put her cup down, half-empty. "Vayne was guilty of far worse than Larsa and you know it," she argued, "And it was the Senate and the gentry who refused cooperation first. Larsa wants to do things the right way, but you've left him with no choice. And if it's all for a good outcome, is it so bad? It's not like he's forcing the ardents to agree with him. They genuinely support this."
"The ardents benefit, yes, but at the expense of the gentry. Is that fair?"
Penelo's instinct was to say it was not fair to take from others, but was it taking when the gentry already had everything and more? She was so tired of apologizing for wanting the less fortunate to have a chance at a good life.
"I think it is fair," her voice was firm in her conviction, "And so should you. Or is it just rumors that you started your business from the bottom?"
Caine's lips parted as though to speak, but his words left him. Silence held the air for a long few seconds before he spoke again. His lips pulled into a wry smile. "You truly believe in your Lord Larsa, then. If I am so mistaken about him, then pray tell me: who is the real Larsa Ferrinas Solidor?"
Penelo pulled her spine back up after it had slumped in her passionate argument. "He's the kind of man a girl from the streets can trust. Someone who, despite having been born into nobility, has his own built-in morality no one can corrupt. He has saved me many times, and expects nothing in return. I trust him with my life."
Caine said nothing, only offering his smirk as he listened.
"And what about you?" Penelo countered, "Will you tell me who the real Bacchus Caine is? You were an ardent once, weren't you? Maybe even less than that. You complain about the gentry, yet you became a member yourself. Why? Do you use your privilege to give back to those in need? And if not, have you forgotten what it was like to be treated by the elite as though you're not even a person?"
Pride flashed in Caine's focused eyes as he studied her. "You are the only one to ever question that," he noted, "Quite perceptive of you. No one raised in Archades ever would question a man's ambition." It was then he stood, hands behind his back, sauntering towards her with one dramatic step after another.
"Citizens of Archades are raised since childhood to value nobility above all else. Those born into it are taught to hold it with all their might. Those born without were taught to strive for it as though naught else mattered in the world." He was in front of her now, and he leaned forward until his eyes were level with hers, red-veined eyes unmistakable so up-close. A twitch in his smile threatened his composure. "But I was brought here too late to be indoctrinated. So what does that tell you?"
It would mean he wasn't doing any of this for status: the business, the senate, none of it. But if not, then, why?
Penelo looked away, allowing her eyes to go distant as she roamed through her mind for an answer. "If you're not doing it for nobility… not for power or status… maybe not even for the money… All that's left is…" she looked up at him, and to her relief Caine backed away from her to stand at his full height. "You do this for the greater good somehow. Am I right?" She didn't even believe it, yet it was the only answer logic could direct her to after process of elimination. Penelo dared to ask, "And you joining the Senate is somehow tied to it, isn't it?"
"I'm afraid if I were to tell you my life's story, we'd be here all week. Alas," he gestured to his desk, "I have fan mail to attend to." A large stack of letters piled high and unevenly on his desk, threatening to topple over: messages from citizens expressing their opinions on Larsa's announcement.
"Of course," Penelo finished her coffee with one last gulp, stood up and offered a bow. "Forgive me for taking so much of your time, Senator."
Caine shows her out the door. "Perhaps a better time will find us together, when we are both well-rested. Good day, Ambassador."
Now I know he was once an ardent, and he's not interested in nobility, Penelo's thoughts raced as she strode through the halls of the Senate Chambers. He wasn't even born in Archades. If not, then where? And how did he end up here against all odds? And why would he stand against an Emperor he ought to agree with?
It didn't make sense.
Unless... he was putting on a facade. In The Truth of the Matter, the author DURAI said that "a politician's false pretenses are his sword and shield. Without them, he will be devoured." Did he wear two faces, just like the woman in the painting above his desk? And if so, which face was the real one?
...
Author's Note:
This chapter was named after the song "Hypnotized" by System of a Down