Rain was drizzling over the city of Zanarkand, cloaking the sun in piles of heavy dark grey clouds. Larger fishes came out of hiding to swim freely in the darkness of the free waters. Mist had descended, bringing many residents out from their homes to pray near the sea for protection from those Worshipped against flooding, and thank them for increasing their bounties. The cold air carried with it the earthly smell of fallen leaves from the mountain range of Gagazet, which drifted into an open window to a bedchamber somewhere at the western wing of the Dome.
Dai Denzin stirred under a thick woven quilt, awakened in a foul temper by the miserable cold that made him shiver to his bones. Clicking his tongue, he rolled out of bed, tightened the sleeping robe around his lean body and moved to bolt the windows shut. His head throbbed in pain, an aftermath of the rounds of liquor that he had consumed on the previous night. Landing his eyes onto the stacks of working paper at the writing desk inflamed his feelings of wretchedness; it was yet another day of managing a series of useless and humdrum state affairs.
His days had been this dull and monotonous since ten years in the past, when Yu Yevon triumphed over him to become the leader of their city. Throughout their tenure as ministers within Yaj Yeshe's state cabinet, their immensely clashing values and beliefs led to the harbouring of a mutual feeling of distrust towards one another. Its consequences were most searing during the reshuffling of the state cabinet, when Yevon relegated him from the position of the minister of defence to the minister of the arts. As if bent on humiliating him further, Yevon had him replaced with Michewah, a sardonic woman who was twelve years younger and whom he dismissed from the armed forces one time ago for disobeying his orders.
Overtime, Denzin had grown exceedingly bitter with the direction that his life was taking, turning Yevon into a culprit whose name he associated with nothing but vulgar epithets. Every minute that he spent in the Dome reminded him of his fall from grace. He derided those like Kipu, who put too much trust in Yevon's supposed brilliance until he was willing to sacrifice himself for another newly discovered absurd ritual. Occasionally, he would let himself believe that Yevon had many people bewitched, for he saw no wisdom in following such an ill-advised leader.
"It's the ninth hour in the morning… why is no one here yet?" Denzin found himself complaining, angry at his attendants for their absence.
As if answering to his grievances, there were soon a few light knocks made on the door. He offered no reply, for he could guess who it would be. He heard the door open and close again, and then the soft sound of padding feet. He could smell her when she stood nearby, the familiar combination of red roses and jasmine fragrance, and felt his head fogging, and the heaviness on his shoulders lifting. He turned around to look and there she was – Chewa, with her captivating demure eyes which reminded him of an eclipsed moon and a delicate nose above pale pink dainty lips.
"Help me bathe before I have my breakfast," he instructed, quietly longing for the touch of her hands on his skin.
She bowed her head courteously without saying a word, reaching her hands out to help undo the sash of his sleeping robe from around his waist. When she walked into the washroom that extended from his bedchamber, he watched her and listened as she ran water into the bathtub. He made his entry into the washroom almost like a customary affair, cleaning himself first with a sponge and a soap, and rinsing himself clean with bowls of clear water without acknowledging her presence. This altered once he was within the comfort of the bathtub; he let himself loose, soaking under the warm water with both of his arms and legs spread out. Chewa poured fragrant oil that snaked onto him like ice on skin, then he felt the prints of her fingertips as she massaged tension away from his rigid shoulders, the nape of his neck and the lines along his eyebrows.
Under her caress, he almost went lost – lost to the tenderness that his body and soul yearned from someone like her. But just as quickly as a falcon would snatch a prey with its talons, he caught the vacant look in her eyes and remembered why she was even here with him. Just like him, Chewa's good fortune was overturned ten years ago when Pema belatedly disinterred her standing as Yeshe's mistress. Pema used all her power to throw Chewa out of the Dome and the temples, condemning her to a life of eternal dishonour. A chance encounter with her during one of his visits to the Highroad in Luca compelled Denzin to bring her back secretly as one of his attendants… and his bed warmer.
It was an excellent arrangement. They gave each other pleasure… and a partnership that was bound by the poisonous vengeance of seeing Zanarkand fall together.
"The recent intel you told me caused commotion at the congregation for certain people… good work," he said, smiling. "Have you heard of anything else?"
"There are rumours about another one of his stupid new rituals. I'm not certain if it'll be useful information," she replied, her voice sounding benign in his ears, almost betraying the sharpness of her words.
Denzin scoffed. "Oh, please do tell. Let me at least be entertained by the absurdity of it all."
"Supposedly it's meant to turn him into a beast that will protect that other Zanarkand of his," she said, cracking her lips into a smile of disparagement.
"It would be a wonder if he could use it at all before their total destruction by Bevelle's Machinas."
Chewa had withdrawn her hands from him and was wiping them with a towel, marking the approaching end of his bathing session. "I'll keep my ears open for any further word about the magic Machinas."
She stood to leave but Denzin was faster. He grabbed onto one of her arms and insisted, "Climb into the tub… and stay with me."
The door to the washroom slammed shut; Chewa's clothes were left disassembled on the floor near the bathtub and the walls of the washroom tremored with echoes of her moans and Denzin's grunts.