Chapter One - Situations Unresolved

Ramza woke in the quiet of deep night as a cool breeze blew through his tent.

It was not very dark, due in part to the moonlight that seeped through the flaps in the tent. He could see the candle he'd accidentally left burning as he'd fallen asleep, a pitiful puddle of wax on a saucer by his head. He normally didn't waste expensive things like candles, but he was exhausted. His whole cadre was exhausted.

Ramza sat up, scrubbing his hands through his blonde hair. His body ached endlessly, it seemed, but sleep was fitful for him. After they'd returned from the City of Death, he thought he would sleep for years. As it turned, he couldn't even sleep for hours.

He slipped out of his tent, shivered slightly despite the sultry summer heat. Even at night, it was uncomfortably warm. No, what made him shiver was the dead quiet around the camp. After Murond, after the City of Death, after the haunted silence his company had spent six days passing through, Ramza didn't think he ever wanted to spend his days in such dreadful quiet. He slipped back into his tent and sat down upon his cot. After a few moments he lay down, and immediately heard a voice outside his tent.

"Sounds like I'm not the only one awake," he heard a woman say, and his hand fell quickly to the hilt of the long-sword that lay beneath his cot. "Can I come in?" Agrias Oaks asked, and Ramza sat up, raking a hand through his hair.

"Yes, of course…" Ramza said, snatching up a plain white shirt from where it lay on his footlocker. He slipped his arms through the sleeves as she entered, but didn't bother with the buttons. "Something on your mind?" He fumbled under his bed for a lamp and the box of sand that held a handful of still-smoldering coals. She waited until they lamp was glowing dimly and then spoke.

"I want to talk to you about what comes next. About what we do next. About this fool plan of yours-"

"Most of those people out there still have lives to lead-"

"And you don't?" She asked sharply.

"-as long as they don't mention my name where a Church Examiner can hear."

"If you send them away and the Church finds you- you can't fight off an army alone."

"I can't fight off an army with a handful of men and women, either."

"And if you run into someone who recognizes you?" Her retort was sharp, her voice tinged with unease. She stood, came near him before crouching in front of him and taking his hands in her own. "There's no end to the list of people who want you dead."

"There's nothing I can do to change that now," Ramza replied softly.

"I won't let them have what they want," Agrias said, her mouth a thin line, "particularly because you want to see your 'friend' again."

"He is not so bad as you think he is," Ramza said, suddenly uncomfortable about their sudden proximity. Her hands were smooth, not nearly as callused by years of swordsmanship as Ramza's own were.

The situation became very awkward for the squire. "He's had plenty of chances to kill me," Ramza continued, "plenty of times my end would have saved him endless trouble. He hasn't, and I…. as suspicious of him as I am, I still think he is my friend." He drew his hands away with a shake of his head, and tugged his shirt closed.

Agrias chuckled mirthlessly, a cold sound that made Ramza wince. How long had he refused to consider pursuing her? It had been a year, at least. There were always more enemies to face, more battles to fight. Ramza had always considered himself a romantic, but he also knew that some things had to come first.

Would things have been different between the two of them, had he not been obsessed with his quest for Truth?

Stop being so dramatic, he told himself, and bid her good night.

"I'm sorry," he finally said. "We should probably go our ways for the evening. We'll have a long day ahead of us.

"Yes, well," she said, standing, "I suppose there's tragedies the world over. Comparatively," she said, her smile as cold as a winter morning, "there's worse than this."

"There's that," Ramza said, standing himself. She twitched her shoulders, as though she were about to turn and leave, but did not move further. In the pale lamplight, when it seemed for a moment that there was nothing in the world but the two of them, she looked inviting. Tempting was the word a priest might use.

Unable to resist, he leaned toward her, intent only on a brush of the lips. It was something he'd thought about for months, stayed awake thinking about. But she leaned forward suddenly, threw her arms around his neck, pressing her lips against his in a long, fierce kiss.

His resolve vanished.

For a lifetime they stood there, wrapped in one another's arms. Finally, they drew apart, their hearts beating feverishly. "I've loved you for a very long time," she whispered against his shoulder.

"I love you," he said, breathlessly. She smiled, turning her face up to him, and he kissed her again, deeply and longingly. When they drew apart again, he bent down and whispered, "I love you, and I'm sorry it took so long to tell you."

"There, now," she said, smiling, her face aglow in the pale lamp-light. "Isn't that better?" She uncoiled her arms, and before he could even protest she disappeared from the tent. "Get some sleep," she said, "Dawn breaks in three hours.

Ramza stood there, for a long time, wondering what it was that had happened, his body refusing to move for fear the moment might simply have been a dream that would end the moment he twitched a muscle.

He sat down on his cot, snuffed out the lamp, and lay down again in the darkness. The sultry summer night made it hard to fall asleep, but he was glad when he did, for a hundred reasons or more.

Laina and Everett were just returning from their morning patrol when Ramza strode out of his tent, wearing the mussed white shirt he'd fallen to sleep in. His trousers were just as wrinkled, and he was sure his hair was a mess, but he felt disinclined to care.

The morning bustle of the camp was pleasantly noisy, and Laina and Everett's casual attitude said that they hadn't seen a living soul (or an undead one) inside the valley or outside. That made Ramza feel more than a little better.

Mustadio stood up, from one of the nearest campfires, and handed him a plate. "We've been keeping this warm for you," the young mechanic said with a grin. Ramza took the plate and sat down between Orlandu and Beowulf, shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth. Orlandu waved to him, but Beowulf was too caught up in talk with Rad to notice Ramza.

"You slept in, I see," Orlandu said, nodding approvingly. "About time you took a rest."

Mustadio nodded in agreement. "Yeah, especially after the way you've been pushing yourself. Did you sleep well?"

"I slept terribly," Ramza said around mouthfulls of food. "And honestly, after two nights in the City of Death, I'm not sure I ever want to sleep again.

"I slept like a baby," Mustadio said, "aside from hearing the couple in the tent next to me declare their love for one another at some ungodly hour of the night."

Ramza froze, but Beowulf turned toward the mechanic with irritation. "If you want, you can move your tent across the camp. But stop complaining about Reis and I," the Magic Knight said, leveling his fork at Mustadio.

"Easy there, Captain," Mustadio said with a grin. "I don't mean anything bad by it."

Ramza had a second helping, and actually took time to enjoy the food. Occasionally he'd sneak glances at Agrias, at another cookfire with Lavian, Alicia and Reis. They weren't giggling. Then again, Agrias didn't succumb to the sort of gossip that some men and women fell prey to.

That was one of the things he liked about her, come right to it.

By the time he'd finished his breakfast, half the tents were packed, and several people were already packing up the pots and pans.

He climbed onto one of the wooden chocobo carts, raised his hand, and waited for the camp to fall silent. It did so in a fairly short amount of time. He hadn't officially told the group his plan, but he had the feeling word had gotten around.

"This is a dangerous time," Ramza said, "because the Church will want someone to blame for what's happened to them. I have a feeling they'll want me. There's… fair chance they'll get me, before I find safety anywhere, and I don't intend to let anyone

"So here's my solution," Ramza said. "We'll split into several groups- four people apiece. You can decide on the groups as you please, or you can even go your own way, but the plan is to meet in a small town a week's ride east of Limberry Castle called Ityca. If we decided to stay there, we stay there. If not, we can move elsewhere as a group or… vanish. However, I'll be taking Boco and going to Igros, where word has it Delita's gone for the time being."

"Why do you have to go see Delita?" Mustadio asked, frowning. "He's basically stabbed anyone in the back he's had to to get where he is. He'll probably do the same to you."

"That's possible," Ramza said, "but I have to take that chance. He's my friend, and I have unfinished business with him- and something that might be able to keep him and Ovelia safe from the church."

Inside his tent, he started to pack his saddlebags, deciding to let the majority of the extra equipment go in the carts with the rest of the company. He packed his sleeping roll, his sword, and enough rations to get him five days out. He heard the flap rustle, and he knew he it was behind him. "Agrias, look, I'm not changing-" he turned to see Meliadoul, arms folded across her chest, eyebrows raised. "Oh, I thought- sorry. I thought-"

"It's fine, it's fine. I just…" She hugged herself, sighing. "I really don't think this is a good idea. Neither does anyone else. Do you really need to do this, Ramza?"

"Yeah, I really do," Ramza said, running a hand through his hair.

"It's a dangerous world out there, Ramza, and Delita is a dangerous man. Just… watch yourself." With that, Meliadoul slipped out of the tent, possessed of the same dangerous sense of grace that marked Orlandu and Agrias.

He packed up a few more things before Agrias did enter, with Alma beside her. The two of them folded their arms across their chests and gazed down at where he knelt beside his cot, tucking a pair of daggers into his boots.

"Let us go with you," Alma said, and Agrias nodded, her eyes narrowing.

"Under no circumstances," Ramza replied, standing. "I might as well take a whole squad if I took even one of you.

"So take a whole squad," Agrias replied.

"I know Delita, I've known him as long as you," Alma pleaded. "Take me with you. I can help."

"Under no circumstances," Ramza said again. "I won't let either of you accompany to Igros, and that is the last thing I have to say on the subject. Alma, you would increase the chance of us being recognized, and Agrias- you're the second most experienced member of the group. The others need you."

As he pushed past, Agrias took him by the arm, her normally stony face creased with worry. "Please don't do this." She whispered, refusing to beg but unable to simply let him go. He laid one hand upon hers, smiled, and left the tent.

As he walked toward Boco, he had the feeling he'd had when he went to Zeltennia to warn his brother, when he went to Orbonne to stop Vormav, when he'd left Igros to find the Hokuten agent in Dorter.

He had the feeling he'd felt when he'd decided to chase after Princess Ovelia when Delita had captured her.

The current was flowing again, and he'd taken his stand.

The young rider who entered Igros was nothing out of the ordinary- Igros was a great city, once the capital of a great nation before it had fallen under the banner of Ivalice, hundreds of years before. There were riders aplenty in Igros, even riders with swords, and if he drew his cowl over his face- well, he didn't stay in any one part of the city long enough to draw notice. When he found the inn he wanted, he passed a gold coin to a young lad and drew back his cowl. His hair was black, almost unnaturally black, and his skin was smudged with heavy soot. He knelt down beside his mount, a fidgeting chocobo that was spirited enough to have been a wild at one point. "Do you know where the Hokuten encampment is, boy?"

The boy nodded to him, and the rider drew a letter from his coat. He handed it to the boy, drew ten more gold coins from a purse at his waist. "I'll give you ten more crowns gold if you find a Black Sheep Knight there named Delita Hyral. Give him that letter, and he'll give you ten gold coins. Savvy?" The boy nodded vigorously, and darted off with the letter clutched in his hand, hair whipping in the wind. The rider tied up his chocobo and slung his saddlebags over his shoulder. The innkeeper who greeted him was fat and bald, but the rider knew he was honest. "I'll need a room for the night," the rider said, "and my mount stabled. What's the price for that?"

"Ten crowns gold," the man said, and the rider's eyes narrowed. "It's a fair price," the innkeeper insisted, "with the war and all."

"The war's over," the rider said, pointing to his mount as he opened his purse again. "but even so, that's fine."

The rider sat before the tomb of Balbanes Beoulve, to the right of which were the tombs of Balbanes's two wives, and his two eldest sons. The rider heard footsteps behind him, but made no move to turn around. "I'm not sure whether to curse your father or bless him. Sending me off to Gariland Academy… I never dreamed it would lead me here," Delita Hyral said, moving smoothly and surely in his gold burnished armor. Again, he walked with that cat-like grace that seemed to mark the really talented swordsmen the rider had met.

"I'm a little surprised at what's happened to me," Ramza said, "but I'm not terribly disappointed." He stood, turning to face his friend, running a hand through his black-dyed hair. It wasn't much of a disguise, but it was enough; even Delita blinked in surprise.

"It was stupid to come here," Delita said, walking up to the edge of Balbanes' grave. "You shouldn't have come."

"I've heard a lot of people telling me that," Ramza said, a bit wistfully. Delita snorted.

"You should have listened. You don't know how much the Church wants you right now. They're looking for someone to blame for this whole affair, and you're their number one candidate. I'm not strong enough yet to protect you from the Church- I may not ever be."

"You'd be a lot stronger with the Germonik Scriptures in hand," Ramza said, pulling a book from the satchel at his waist. Delita inhaled sharply, and the squire smiled wickedly. "You'd be able to take the throne, keep the Church's influence out of Zeltennia. That's what you want, isn't it? To marry Ovelia. To take the throne," Ramza said, unable to keep the note of bitterness from his voice. Delita's gaze darkened.

"Yes, that's what I want," Delita said, squaring his shoulders to the squire. "And I'm going to do it, too. Not just for power. Not just because I love Ovelia- which, for some odd reason, I do- but because this country needs a strong leader. This war has divided the rich and the poor more starkly than any war in history, and I'm tired of seeing people who can't eat because they don't have money, who can't make money because there are no jobs. You want to see a civil war again? You will, if this kingdom doesn't start to close its fist on nobles who barricade themselves in their keeps while the rest of the world starves. Yes, I want power," Delita said, stepping closer to Ramza, "and I'm going to take it, because I don't trust anyone else with it. Especially not someone born to nobility, who doesn't understand that people are people, regardless of birth."

Ramza stared at him, defiantly, before he put a hand on the Holy Knight's shoulder. "Then be a good king," Ramza said softly, offering the book to Delita. Delita looked down at it, frowning.

"If you give me that book," Delita said, "there's nothing to keep me from stabbing you in the back the moment you turn around. I could give you to the Church and keep the book, and I'd be stronger than ever."

"You could," Ramza said, "just the way you could've given me to Zalmo and let the Church have me then."

Delita chuckled, took the book from Ramza's hand and threw his arms around the squire. "Take care of yourself, brother," Delita said. "It's a dangerous world."

"I keep hearing that," Ramza said, grinning. He turned and walked away from his old friend, from one of the only people who might have understood him.