Final Fantasy Tactics:
Sins of a Lonely Heart
Prologue: An Ode to a Betrayal
The land of Ivalice, a world that was on the verge of destruction from a bloody, brutal war. A war waged between two sides competing for one thing: power. The succession of the crown and the turmoil surrounding it brought forth the Lion War, perhaps the most terrible war in the history of Ivalice. Not only was this a war of nations, this was also a war of worlds. The world of Ivalice, and all those who dwelled in it, and the world of darkness, that of the Devil's Army, the Lucavi.
Within the shadows of the war, the Lucavi slowly rose to power, using key figures as their vessels. The greed, ambition, and hatred of these figures caused their initial corruption, and the Lucavi slowly ate away at their soul, until there was only an empty vessel left for them to manipulate freely. There was to be no stopping the advance of the army of the Devil, and soon, all of mankind would be laid to waste with the resurrection of the Blood Angel, Altima.
But this was never to be. The Lucavi and Altima's reign was ended before it came to fruition by the efforts of one courageous young man, and those who stood by his side. This man was only out for justice. He was a warrior of the people, not bound by the temptations of money or the promise of power in the political spectrum of the world. Peace was the only thing he sought, bringing about the end of many of the Lucavi's commanders and the almighty Altima by the power of his will. He was not driven by any sort of monetary compensation, only by the pure determination in his heart. He beat back the army of the damned and saved Ivalice from destruction. But his name was never once recorded in the annals of Ivalice history. He was an unsung hero who seemingly perished in the Graveyard of Airships, along with all those who fought alongside him.
The people of Ivalice never learned of Ramza Beoulve's struggle. They were fed the blatant lies of Delita Hyral's succession of the throne and his suppression of the Lion War. He was deemed the hero, a savior of the land. But unlike Ramza, Delita was driven by his own selfish ambitions. He was greedy enough to rise to the top, but resilient enough to not be taken by the power of the devil's army. Far removed from the real war going on, he became the most powerful figure in Ivalice. But be it fate, or maybe karma, he was struck down by the very person he held dear to him. Delita was slain at the hands of his wife, the Queen Ovelia. The monarchy was then thrown into utter chaos over who would then succeed the throne.
The legends passed down were all false. Delita Hyral did not maintain a long rule of peace and prosperity, he only further entangled the infernal power struggle over the crown. Even as king, Delita could not escape the harsh grasp of fate, and his life was soon resigned to it. Now Ivalice was without a ruler, a land without a king that was slowly tearing itself apart.
But, this is not the story of who came into power, or the bloody ways they used to do so. This is the story of the true hero's life after all the fighting was over. Fearful of the persecution that would surely be brought forth onto him by the church, Ramza and Alma Beoulve, who did indeed survive the encounter at Murond Death City, cut all ties with their heritage and those who fought alongside them, and vanished forever. Their life beyond the Lion War, while unaccounted for by the majority of history's scholars, will now be told through pure speculation and rumor.
Ramza Beoulve, while the most pure of fighters in Ivalice, was not without his own dark side. Just as love and hate are two sides of the same coin, so are innocence and decadence. But only through the most despicable provocation would Ramza's hatred be invoked, and this story is how that very event took place. Ramza Beoulve did not ask for very much, just solace from his dreadful life as a noble and the angst that was directed at him and his sister through the Church of Glabados' doings. All he wanted was to forget his life in the Lion War and live unknown to any and all who might have once known him. But just as he was once thrust into the war, he shall once again be called into battle, this time for his own well being. No, this wasn't a war of nations, nor was it a war of worlds. This was a war of existence. A war raged between only two sides: Ramza Beoulve and the hellish actions of the past that came back to haunt him. Temptations and corruption were afoot, ones that even Ramza himself could not resist.
Sins of a lonely heart bring forth a new corruption, one that would eat away even the strongest of saviors...
"Brother? Are you alright?" Alma's voice intruded on Ramza's deep brooding. For what seemed like hours, Ramza had been staring at the fire place blankly, not saying a word. This aroused concern in his sister.
The Beoulve lad looked at his younger sister and silently nodded, his eyes full of melancholy.
Alma said nothing as she embraced her brother in a tight, loving hug.
News of Delita's death had spread like wildfire across Ivalice, and it didn't take long for Ramza and Alma to find out. Both were deeply saddened by the loss of their childhood friend, despite the fact of his manipulative actions that led to his position as King of Ivalice.
His rule was short lived, despite the legends that it was an extended period. Ovelia, though totally devoted to her husband, could not bear the thought of him using others for his own selfish gain any longer. And so, on her birthday, with Delita bearing flowers to his betrothed as a gift of affection, Ovelia struck, attacking Delita with a hidden dagger. Delita then turned the dagger on Ovelia, slaying his Queen. As he slumped to the ground, mortally wounded, the mighty King Delita's final words were:
"Ramza...what...what did you get...?"
Ramza Beoulve got nothing. Nothing except blind persecution and a title of "Heretic monster" by the Church of Glabados. Ramza was forced to flee his home country of Ivalice. Now he and his sister Alma lived quietly on the outskirts of Ivalice territory, away from the jurisdiction of the clergy. The last two remaining children of the late Balbanes Beoulve could only meek out a quiet existence, far removed from any sort of contact between their lost comrades of the Lion War. They rarely ever showed their faces in public, for fear of being discovered by Church followers and punished for their supposed crimes.
"Brother," Alma began solemnly. "I too grieve for the loss of Delita, he was our friend."
"I know, Alma..." Ramza said dejectedly. "It's just...I can't believe he's really dead...and Ovelia too..."
Ramza took a seat on a nearby chair and propped his head on his hands. He looked out the window at the landscape surrounding he and Alma's home. It was a quaint little cottage, miles away from any sort of civilization. The two Beoulves changed their names and their identities, living now as husband and wife. Alma enjoyed the peace, she no longer had to worry about the fires of war or the horrors of living as a noble. Now she was content, living tranquilly with her beloved brother. Ramza, on the other hand, missed the feel of battle. He was groomed from birth to be a soldier, enrolling in the Gariland Academy at the tender young age of sixteen. From his first departure outside of the Magic City, Ramza was thrust headlong into the inevitable power struggle between Prince Larg and Prince Goltana. He fought against incredible odds, beating back the forces of the kingdoms out for his head and even the devil's army, the Lucavi. Ramza retained all of the Holy Stones he had gained during his travels, and they were now buried safely underneath his home. No one would ever find them, and the Lucavi would never be called upon again.
Life for Ramza and Alma afterwords was uneventful, to say the least. Every day, Ramza went to work odd jobs to earn money for himself and his sister. Alma remained at their home, silently tending to household chores while waiting patiently for her brother to return safely. With each and every passing day, Ramza grew more and more depressed, and Alma knew the exact reason why.
He was slowly being eaten away inside.
Ramza had but two real pieces of his life he could hold dear to him. The first was his sister, Alma. He cherished his sister with all of his heart, never wanting her to ever again experience the horrific events she underwent during the war. To see Alma subjected to the heinous intent of the Lucavi brought forth a rage never once felt before by the young Beoulve man. But he had stopped any such plans, and freed his sister from their grasp. He treasured Alma almost more than anything and anyone else in the world, no one would ever hurt her, Ramza would make sure of that. He would gladly lay down his own life so that she could be happy.
With Alma's safety and well being secured, the rage that once boiled within this normally quiet young man was soon quelled.
But with news of Delita's death, that rage was once again beginning to rise. Ramza never hated Delita for what he had done. He had manipulated his way to the top, but Ramza didn't ever bear a grudge. After all, he and Delita were best friends since childhood, almost the point where the two looked at each other as brothers. Ramza could almost understand Delita's intentions for doing what he had, but secretly took pity on him for the way he went about executing it. Now a victim of his own manipulation, the mighty King Delita was dead. Ramza's best friend was dead. That one other piece of happiness in Ramza's life was snuffed out. And now, with him gone, despair encroached ever closer to consuming Ramza entirely, further empowered by the rage Ramza felt inside him.
The only remaining pillar of guiding light in Ramza's otherwise dark and hellish life was Alma.
Alma took a seat next to Ramza and hugged him tightly. Ramza brought one of his arms over her shoulder and pulled his sister close to him.
"Alma...please...don't ever go away..." Ramza quietly whispered, his eyes beginning to well with tears.
"Never brother...I will never leave you." Alma consoled Ramza as her own tears began to fall down her cheeks...