A/N: Ah, Tactics. You are my favorite FF title. Too bad I can't get the PSP version, but oh well. First fic here, hope you enjoy! Review?

Chess Piece

The skies birthed a crimson gory upon the late eve. The jagged rocks separating twin lifts in the divide glowed in the wake, a majestic sight to any who had the time to acknowledge it. Unfortunately on this night, no eyes turned up to admire the sun and it's bloody fading of life, but rather remained firmly set between their boots and on the rocky ground. A thawing had taken place previous nights before, signaling the approach of spring and the end of winter; an accomplishment of the seasons that usually brought about satisfied smiles and pleasant laughter. Not upon this night. This night was the prelude to the rush on the windmill; and the collection of soldiers, of mere cadets, stared gravely at each other and to their silent leaders.

Rations were short, but they all managed to put something into their bellies. It was noticed but not spoken aloud that their leaders hadn't touched their meals, but their pain was understood and left to heal on its own. Nothing they could do or say would ease it and so nothing they did, and nothing they said. The fire crackled and popped and sent the occasional spark tumbling down the rocky incline of the plateau. They allowed the two to have the fire to themselves, and they were content with just letting Cain light their meager bundle of sticks every now and them to give them a flash of heat. Warmer than it had been during January, but the March nights still brought about bone-invading chills.

The way the two sat together, side-by-side, brushing arms whenever one moved to stir the glowing fire, looking to each other when they spoke in harsh tones brought about a sort of uncomfortable shift in the pit of their lower intestines. Amy tucked loose hairs behind her ears, looking to young, freckle-nosed House when she caught him staring at the two. When she touched his fingers light, the boy regained himself and stared down between his boots. Her sister Jessica stood, looking to the dying sunset, and then back to the boys. They weren't even men. They were boys, two cadets lost in a battle that the Beoulve brothers were in control of, and they were the mere pawns. Despite this knowledge, they continued to play; shoving the thoughts to the back of their minds in a desperate attempt to pretend that once…once they had Teta back and Wiegraf was dead…

Cain lit up the tinder before them, peering out under his hat cautiously. "We know Delita and Ramza well," he said quietly, the faint fire throwing light that revealed his jaw and nose, but yet shadow continued to hide the rest of his features. "They will recover if they're together." There was a silent agreement; some nodding of heads, some sighs, some shuffling of boots against the hard rock of the plateau. Darkness was settling in. The embers of the two fires traveled up into the sky in the thermal uplift, only to blink out like stars or blow away in the faint March breeze. There was movement, and the handful of battle-worn, faintly hungrily soldiers looked to their old friends. The Beoulve boys were lying down, curled against each other like small children, and their vulnerability was bare for all to see. Jessica and Cain twitched, their healing and tendering natures wanting to make them jump up and go console them. However, the glances they received from House, Amy, Brent, and Jeremy made them stay put and stay with their group.

"They're finally asleep," Jessica sighed, longingly looking their way. Delita Hyral and Ramza Beoulve were their fellow cadets, young and immature and innocent. Were they incapable of seeing what part they were playing in this chess game? Were they unable to see how they were being played with, toyed like a brand new present? Or did they just not care? The boys had been together since a young age, from what the ragtag crew of youth knew. The best of friends, the best of brothers, the best of lovers; it didn't matter what they were, they just were and were the best of however they thought of each other. There was an affection no one could reach or comprehend, maybe they couldn't either, and so no title could properly be applied. Be it brothers or lovers, they loved each other more than they could ever hope to love themselves. One a bishop thrown into shadow by the bigger players of this chess game, the other a pawn with self-doubt and hesitation lingering in his breath.

House, the young knight, unsheathed his blade and examined his reflection. The youngest addition to this team already had the same, tired, anxious expression that the rest of his comrades bore. They had not been fighting as a team for too long; a few months, but it felt like years and the unusually low respect that they received (even though the were the Hokuten, they were led by Beoulves!) at stores had caused an unexpected shortage of needed supplies. Cain had become their unofficial white mage, when his real talent was for that of the black magic, for their collection of potions was potentially dangerous to head into battle with. Six potions was not enough for the reckless soldiers to survive on; especially with Ramza and Delita. The two flung themselves at enemies like banshees.

Jessica and Amy, the sisters, were two completely different personalities. Amy was a bold and strong monk; her fists as effective as the long and broad swords the knights carried. Jessica was a thief, but had only just recently been a dedicated archer. She had a sweet heart, but was swift on her feet and with her hands and could be utilized best as a thief. Brent and Jeremy themselves were lovers. Brent was an archer, with strong fingers and sharp eyes. Jeremy had become a knight as well, and was much taller and stronger than his wiry partner. Cain was a black mage; a wizard, but frequently used the skills of a chemist or priest to help support his fellows. Most times he didn't have to, as House, the freckle-nosed adolescent, was one of the bravest and most compassionate out of all of them. Despite the dangers, he'd run into the middle of a fight and heal or revive a fallen comrade, no matter the consequence.

The group was strong, and believed in each other and themselves. It was because of this bond of trust and reliability that they knew exactly how to handle the two boys. Both were knights themselves; one had the aspirations to become a lancer, while the other's motives remained a mystery. He only murmured his deepest, private thoughts in Ramza's ear, and the young Beoulve would smile and whisper back to try and rouse the other into smiling. It usually worked. It would send relief through them all, for Delita was known for being a bit of a hothead, and if Delita got too bitter, the mood was spoiled for them all. Ramza was excellent at fixing his mood.

More evidence that they were perfectly in balance with each other. It would be a sad day when the two were separated.

House slid his weapon back into its sheath and stood, fingers resting on the hilt of the blade, looking down into their small fire. Something troubled the boy's eyes, and he jumped down off of their perch on some of the higher rocks. He wandered up the incline, pausing to look up into the dark sky. The last, fading fingers of light had disappeared and were consumed by heavy clouds. It smelled of snow, and Cain glanced to Amy and Jessica. Getting the idea, the two girls jumped down from their positions and moved carefully and quietly to the minor stack of weak wood besides the boys' fire. They generously paused to feed the flames by their feet, then took the remaining stockpile back to their own fire. Cain helped the fire spread to it, and the immediate warm soothed them all. Brent settled down, sleeping on Jeremy's stomach, and Jeremy kindly pulled his cape around him like a blanket.

Cain offered to stay awake and keep the fire alive while keeping watch. Comforted, Amy laid down with her sister. For a while, the popping of the wood in the fire was his only company, until tired House moved back to their loose circle. House rubbed at his sharp blue eyes, sitting down besides Cain. "I see things," he admitted quietly. "I was a priest, you know…I have premonitions…and…I don't like what I saw…"

"No one ever does," Cain said fairly, voice low, and he reached over to pat the freckled knight's shoulder. "Don't dwell, kid. God, he knows we'll get there when we get there. He's just getting preemptive when he sends out images." House nodded, leaning back onto the rocky incline, and rolled his head ever so slightly to see Cain's face just barely etched in the darkness his hat cast over his face. "Just fight with all of your strength in battle, son, and God will smile on us with victory. We'll get back Teta, and then we can safely train again…"

"I don't," House said quickly, hesitated, then continued. "I don't believe God smiles on anyone, Cain."

"Don't speak heresy," Cain reminded in a low, quiet voice. "Blasphemy will get you killed, House, and don't you dare die because of your thoughts." House nodded tiredly, and Cain cooed for him to sleep, and the exhausted young knight curled his cape around him. Soon, the boy was at Cain's feet, and the wizard breathed the crisp air quietly. Shutting his eyes, he exhaled quietly, and murmured to the heavens. "If God does smile…Let him smile on us."

--

House had Ramza on his back, their party weakly moving along until they settled back at Igros Castle from the explosion at Fort Zeakdon. Once the Beoulve and his group were safe within its thick walls, they holed up in a series of connected, small rooms on a far end of the castle. When asked why so far from his brother's rooms, Ramza said nothing more than he had no reason to see them. So for the next while, as the soldiers recovered from battle and the explosion at Zeakdon, they remained at Igros, training and observing and learning.

The first month had been the hardest. Something of a darkness had clouded their minds as they watched Ramza mourn for the loss of his companion. No; mourning would have made it obvious. It was silent and agonizing death the other was suffering through, but no one had the antidote to cure the poison of misery in his heart. Zalbag's actions, Delita's death, and being alone was harsh on their leader's mind. No one, not even Cain or Jessica, could console him. Jeremy pretended to ignore the distraction behind those soft and naïve eyes during practice, or would fidget with his gloves when he noticed that the knight had to stop and carve a new hole in his belt.

"He's dead," Amy finally said to him one day in the courtyard, fists curled, eyes smoldering. Alarmed by this, Ramza looked up from his bible in surprise. Then those eyes went blank like that of a dead man's and he stared back at the page. Amy grabbed him by his hair, took out a knife she kept in her pocket, and sliced off his ponytail. With a wild sputter, Ramza's fingers shot up to the loose hairs and felt the soft locks.

"What in God's name was that for?" he snapped. "You can't just--"

"Delita is dead. You are young and alive. We're getting fat here, Ramza, while you are wasting away. The instant you look healthy again, we're going. I don't care where, Ramza, but Igros will kill you," the monk said simply, holding out her hands in indignant but honest truth. Ramza blew her off, turning his back and snapping shut his read. When she sighed softly and started to leave, however, the knight was standing and murmuring an apology for his behavior. Amy and he returned to their bedrooms and he finally issued his first demand since Zeakdon.

"Gather your things," he announced. "We're leaving Igros. Someone fetch Brent and House from the stables; fetch a chocobo or two to carry our things."

"Dycedarg is utilizing all the chocobos," Cain spoke up. "Sent them out to battle." Ramza grit the back of his teeth, like he always did when something frustrated him. With an aggravated sigh, he gestured for his mates to gather their items anyway, and then the lean soldier went to go get House and Brent himself. The walk down to the Igros chocobo stable was not unpleasant by any means, and the distance gave him time to think and look around himself. The trees lining the main path were in bloom; bright and alive and colorful. Petals of all the spectrum rained upon the ground, covering the soft, worn dirt path and blanketing it gently as though it was an infant that had a hard time sleeping at night. Above, the skies were a bright blue, dotted only with an occasional cloud.

Delita, he caught himself thinking, but he shook his head to rid the mind from his name. No more of him. No more of that cadet. Times have changed, and it was time that he changed too. As he called House and Brent to him, the two jogged up to meet him, and he explained to them the situation. They agreed, and Brent went back to the stable to grab some old chocobo saddles and some swords they'd found that could prove useful later. House, however, stayed with Ramza. It was a slow moment, but after it had passed, House turned to the blonde and looked at him intently.

House looked dizzy, almost faint, but he was standing tall and he looked a bit worried. "…It won't be long," he said softly. "Before things kick up again. It's only just beginning, Ramza…But I'm here with you, all the way, to my death. We all are. You have our strength. You aren't alone, ever." Ramza blinked in surprise, but his eyes were set and he nodded, patting House's shoulder.

When Brent returned, they all started back to the front of the castle to join together and leave. They departed, but just before they stepped off of Igros land, Ramza ran his fingers through his hair, looked up, and declared them mercenaries.

"I don't know what my brothers are planning. I don't. But I won't be their tool, not willingly."

With that, they stepped off together, and Ramza remembered thinking one last thing;

I'll wisen up, Delita. I'll avenge you. I promise…I love you. Good bye.