Mustadio sighed and sat down heavily, driving the point of his thin sword into the ground. It had been a hard days march--though most were, and he was unused to wearing armor. Never mind that he was not given a chocobo. No, chocobos were just for those that had earned them! With a scowl, Mustadio picked a stone off the ground and idly bounced it in his hand. There was a rebellion in Zeltennia--he hadn't even been told why, not as long as he just served as another grunt--and the Church had, of course, volunteered to quell it. With mediation and negotiation it is possible to put down most resistance, but soldiers like Mustadio were always sent just in case the talking didn't go well.
Mustadio had survived the battle with Ajora. He and Malak alone, as far as he knew. He didn't understand why--magic was never his strong point--but Malak had only come up with a feeble excuse that it was some sort of side effect of Ajora's magic, that sent them back. It didn't make sense to the engineer (he still thought of himself as an engineer in his mind, even if he was a Temple Knight now), but he could never come up with something better himself.
He had found Malak after quite some searching for other survivors, wounded and barely alive. Seeing no other choice, Mustadio had taken him to a church, looking for a priest to heal his wounds. The following days had been terrible. Malak was restored, of course, no priest would allow anybody to go on in such a terrible condition, even an enemy. Well, some priests, Mustadio had met--and fought--more priests corrupted by greed and power than he had ever imagined even existed. But instead of being the heros they should have been, saving the world from Ajora nearly at the cost of their lives, they were treated as villains. Still! Even after all they had gone through, even with proof as strong as the Durai Scriptures, the Church managed to brand Olan and all of Ramza's entourage as heretics, hiding the truth once again.
Mustadio almost laughed at the irony. He and Malak had changed their names--Maitreya and Geist respectively, and Malak had even given up his exotic hair-style, no longer shaving the sides of his head. Instead, his hair was now around shoulder length, tied back into a small pony tail like Mustadio's. But just changing names apparently wasn't good enough. Anybody would recognize him as an engineer. Instead of continuing their lives before the battle with Ajora as they had hoped, the two had flocked to the Church's personal "army", just had most soldiers after the Lion War. Who would look among the soldiers of the Church for heretics? A small paradox; Mustadio had made sure to wear the same gold armor and gray robe that Balk, another engineer, had worn. Of course, Mustadio couldn't remain as an engineer, not if he was to reveal his identity. He, like Malak, both trained as knights. And he hated it.
He hated wearing the Church's uniform. He hated serving as a grunt for the same force that had tried so desperately to crush him and Ramza. He hated swords, he hated army, he hated working for Delita Hyral. King Delita, now.
Twisting his face into a scowl, Mustadio hurled the small stone away, at the back of the closest Temple Knight for several yards around. It struck squarely in the center of the brown robe, between the golden pauldrons that they all wore. "Hey!" Malak growled, and spun around to face Mustadio. Or at least, he tried to; he ended up nearly stumbling after his leg buckled.
Malak's left leg had never worked properly after the battle with Ajora. He always denied it--despite the obviousness to anybody but the blind--and in truth, he could still walk and run nearly as fast as Mustadio, if nowhere near his original capabilities. Malak's limp, slight as it was, greatly detracted from his once athletic disposition. And though he never spoke of it, Mustadio could tell that Malak hated that most of all.
"Sorry," Mustadio lied. He had never liked Malak. He wasn't sure why. It certainly wasn't that he disliked magic, especially since it had saved his life more than once in the years he had travelled with Ramza. It wasn't Malak's foreign nature, either; Mustadio had certainly dealt with odder people. No, something in the man would simply not allow him and Mustadio to be the greatest of friends. But if the fighting with Ramza didn't make them well enough allies to depend on one another, the fact that they were both on the same boat, named heretics, did. "I didn't see you there, I was just tossing rocks around. I'm bored."
Malak just shrugged and sheathed his sword. He had been practicing, like he almost always did after they marched. Though his limp made him much slower to move and react than most people, and he had always been more proficient with a quarterstaff than any other weapon, he was still Mustadio's obvious superior with the sword. Mustadio never bothered to learn the sword until recently, and even then, only enough to pass by. A gun was all he needed.
"You should really talk to more of the other knights," Malak said in a conversational tone. With practice, his accent had all but dissappeared when he spoke. "Some of them know some stuff that would interest even you."
Mustadio blinked, ignoring the unspoken insult. Malak was making friends with the knights? "Why would I talk to them? You'd think, well maybe you could, that after all we've been through, that I wouldn't care too much for the Church and all their little cronies?"
Malak looked around hurredly. Though nobody was near enough to hear him unless he shouted, he lowered his voice anyway. "Just shut up and listen for a bit, OK? Most of the soldiers aren't as devout as you'd think. I mean, they did come from both sides of the Lion War, with little else to do. They're soldiers, you know?" Mustadio supressed a frown. He hadn't thought of that. "Look, some of them just like to talk, like normal people." Malak's voice lowered to a dull whisper, and he moved over to squat next to Mustadio. "There's been rumors, Maitreya"--even when nobody was around, they used each other's false names--"that Ramza has been seen. Ramza and Alma, travelling together."
"What?" Mustadio cried out. Malak winced, so he lowered his voice. "Are you serious? Are you positive?" Mustadio hardly waited for Malak's nod to continue. "Then what are we doing? Ramza is alive! And if Alma is, too, then... then..."
"Lower your voice," Malak snapped softly, but he continued with Mustadio's tirade. "Yeah, if Ramza and Alma had survived, who knows who else did? Maybe even Rafa." His face broke into a sudden grin. "Or even Agrias?"
Another scowl crossed Mustadio's face momentarily. Sometimes he wished he had never slipped that he had feelings for the Holy Knight. Almost always, when they were alone, Malak managed to tease him with that. "Well, I don't see why we're still around. If Ramza were alive"--he had to be, Mustadio refused to accept this as just some dumb rumor that a heretic pronounced dead by the church could still be alive--"we wouldn't be hanging around with these Temple Knights. Let's go find them!"
For a while, Malak didn't respond, he just eased his sword in it's scabbard. "Well... think about that, Mustadio." It was a sign of his irritation that he didn't use the false name. "We'd have to go AWOL, unless you feel like lying to the Inquisitors. You know as well as I that they're good at catching that sort of lie. So we'd make enemies of the Church, again, on a whisper of a rumor that Ramza is alive..."
Mustadio did think on that. The excitement left his voice after he spoke again. "I'm willing to do that," he said at last. "How long have we run from the Church before? And this time, we won't be running around striking at the Church, either. We're just two people who didn't feel like fighting anymore. Do you really think they'll expend that much energy hunting us down?"
Malak nodded. "Good answer. Actually, the Church has heard the rumors, too, and is organizing a small party to find him, themselves. Now, I'm pretty sure the Church wouldn't act on something as small as some soldiers' gossip, so maybe they know something we don't? Anyway, I think we should leave tonight. While everyone's asleep. They may not even notice we're gone until much later."
Mustadio frowned. Malak hadn't told him about the Church knowing until just now on purpose. Trying to make him look like an idiot, no doubt. And now trying to take charge! But before the engineer could say anything else, Malak got up and started practicing with his sword again. Instead of speaking, Mustadio just dug up another pebble and threw it at him. But as the stone flew through the air, he couldn't control a single ecstatic thought that ran through his mind.
Ramza is alive!
Mustadio had survived the battle with Ajora. He and Malak alone, as far as he knew. He didn't understand why--magic was never his strong point--but Malak had only come up with a feeble excuse that it was some sort of side effect of Ajora's magic, that sent them back. It didn't make sense to the engineer (he still thought of himself as an engineer in his mind, even if he was a Temple Knight now), but he could never come up with something better himself.
He had found Malak after quite some searching for other survivors, wounded and barely alive. Seeing no other choice, Mustadio had taken him to a church, looking for a priest to heal his wounds. The following days had been terrible. Malak was restored, of course, no priest would allow anybody to go on in such a terrible condition, even an enemy. Well, some priests, Mustadio had met--and fought--more priests corrupted by greed and power than he had ever imagined even existed. But instead of being the heros they should have been, saving the world from Ajora nearly at the cost of their lives, they were treated as villains. Still! Even after all they had gone through, even with proof as strong as the Durai Scriptures, the Church managed to brand Olan and all of Ramza's entourage as heretics, hiding the truth once again.
Mustadio almost laughed at the irony. He and Malak had changed their names--Maitreya and Geist respectively, and Malak had even given up his exotic hair-style, no longer shaving the sides of his head. Instead, his hair was now around shoulder length, tied back into a small pony tail like Mustadio's. But just changing names apparently wasn't good enough. Anybody would recognize him as an engineer. Instead of continuing their lives before the battle with Ajora as they had hoped, the two had flocked to the Church's personal "army", just had most soldiers after the Lion War. Who would look among the soldiers of the Church for heretics? A small paradox; Mustadio had made sure to wear the same gold armor and gray robe that Balk, another engineer, had worn. Of course, Mustadio couldn't remain as an engineer, not if he was to reveal his identity. He, like Malak, both trained as knights. And he hated it.
He hated wearing the Church's uniform. He hated serving as a grunt for the same force that had tried so desperately to crush him and Ramza. He hated swords, he hated army, he hated working for Delita Hyral. King Delita, now.
Twisting his face into a scowl, Mustadio hurled the small stone away, at the back of the closest Temple Knight for several yards around. It struck squarely in the center of the brown robe, between the golden pauldrons that they all wore. "Hey!" Malak growled, and spun around to face Mustadio. Or at least, he tried to; he ended up nearly stumbling after his leg buckled.
Malak's left leg had never worked properly after the battle with Ajora. He always denied it--despite the obviousness to anybody but the blind--and in truth, he could still walk and run nearly as fast as Mustadio, if nowhere near his original capabilities. Malak's limp, slight as it was, greatly detracted from his once athletic disposition. And though he never spoke of it, Mustadio could tell that Malak hated that most of all.
"Sorry," Mustadio lied. He had never liked Malak. He wasn't sure why. It certainly wasn't that he disliked magic, especially since it had saved his life more than once in the years he had travelled with Ramza. It wasn't Malak's foreign nature, either; Mustadio had certainly dealt with odder people. No, something in the man would simply not allow him and Mustadio to be the greatest of friends. But if the fighting with Ramza didn't make them well enough allies to depend on one another, the fact that they were both on the same boat, named heretics, did. "I didn't see you there, I was just tossing rocks around. I'm bored."
Malak just shrugged and sheathed his sword. He had been practicing, like he almost always did after they marched. Though his limp made him much slower to move and react than most people, and he had always been more proficient with a quarterstaff than any other weapon, he was still Mustadio's obvious superior with the sword. Mustadio never bothered to learn the sword until recently, and even then, only enough to pass by. A gun was all he needed.
"You should really talk to more of the other knights," Malak said in a conversational tone. With practice, his accent had all but dissappeared when he spoke. "Some of them know some stuff that would interest even you."
Mustadio blinked, ignoring the unspoken insult. Malak was making friends with the knights? "Why would I talk to them? You'd think, well maybe you could, that after all we've been through, that I wouldn't care too much for the Church and all their little cronies?"
Malak looked around hurredly. Though nobody was near enough to hear him unless he shouted, he lowered his voice anyway. "Just shut up and listen for a bit, OK? Most of the soldiers aren't as devout as you'd think. I mean, they did come from both sides of the Lion War, with little else to do. They're soldiers, you know?" Mustadio supressed a frown. He hadn't thought of that. "Look, some of them just like to talk, like normal people." Malak's voice lowered to a dull whisper, and he moved over to squat next to Mustadio. "There's been rumors, Maitreya"--even when nobody was around, they used each other's false names--"that Ramza has been seen. Ramza and Alma, travelling together."
"What?" Mustadio cried out. Malak winced, so he lowered his voice. "Are you serious? Are you positive?" Mustadio hardly waited for Malak's nod to continue. "Then what are we doing? Ramza is alive! And if Alma is, too, then... then..."
"Lower your voice," Malak snapped softly, but he continued with Mustadio's tirade. "Yeah, if Ramza and Alma had survived, who knows who else did? Maybe even Rafa." His face broke into a sudden grin. "Or even Agrias?"
Another scowl crossed Mustadio's face momentarily. Sometimes he wished he had never slipped that he had feelings for the Holy Knight. Almost always, when they were alone, Malak managed to tease him with that. "Well, I don't see why we're still around. If Ramza were alive"--he had to be, Mustadio refused to accept this as just some dumb rumor that a heretic pronounced dead by the church could still be alive--"we wouldn't be hanging around with these Temple Knights. Let's go find them!"
For a while, Malak didn't respond, he just eased his sword in it's scabbard. "Well... think about that, Mustadio." It was a sign of his irritation that he didn't use the false name. "We'd have to go AWOL, unless you feel like lying to the Inquisitors. You know as well as I that they're good at catching that sort of lie. So we'd make enemies of the Church, again, on a whisper of a rumor that Ramza is alive..."
Mustadio did think on that. The excitement left his voice after he spoke again. "I'm willing to do that," he said at last. "How long have we run from the Church before? And this time, we won't be running around striking at the Church, either. We're just two people who didn't feel like fighting anymore. Do you really think they'll expend that much energy hunting us down?"
Malak nodded. "Good answer. Actually, the Church has heard the rumors, too, and is organizing a small party to find him, themselves. Now, I'm pretty sure the Church wouldn't act on something as small as some soldiers' gossip, so maybe they know something we don't? Anyway, I think we should leave tonight. While everyone's asleep. They may not even notice we're gone until much later."
Mustadio frowned. Malak hadn't told him about the Church knowing until just now on purpose. Trying to make him look like an idiot, no doubt. And now trying to take charge! But before the engineer could say anything else, Malak got up and started practicing with his sword again. Instead of speaking, Mustadio just dug up another pebble and threw it at him. But as the stone flew through the air, he couldn't control a single ecstatic thought that ran through his mind.
Ramza is alive!