Chapter 2: Conspiracy


Balbanes winced in pain. He could not rest. Not after what happened on the Mandalia Plains. How could he have failed? It was just a simple escort mission, yet somehow it went horribly wrong.

"Father! Is your wound troubling you again? Here, let me take a look at it."

Balbanes looked up. Teta was standing over him with a concerned look on her face. How long had it been? Six... no, seven summers had passed since their first meeting on the banks of the Finath River. She had lived with House Beoulve ever since, learning white magic from the priests in the monastery. Her brother had enrolled with the Military Academy at Gariland, and was doing well there, excelling in swordplay and strategy. She had been caring for him ever since he got injured, staying by his bedside well into the night.

"No, Teta, it's... okay. I'm... fine," Balbanes rasped.

"I insist! Please, let me see what I can do!" Teta said. Without waiting for a reply, she began to unwind the bandages that covered his wound. It was not a pretty sight. Infection had set in, turning the wound a vile shade of green. She winced at the sight. Balbanes sighed. Even the best practicioners in the land could not heal him, there was little Teta could do to assuage his pain.

Teta furrowed her brow. She cleaned the wound, and muttered a basic Cure spell over it. It soothed the wound, but did little to stem the growing infection. She frowned, and began chanting again. "It's... alright, Teta. I'll be okay," Balbanes muttered. Teta nodded. Fetching a swathe of bandages, she dressed the wound.

"When will the next healer come?"

"Soon, my dear," Balbanes rasped. "Duke Larg has promised to get the best priests in the land to tend to me. This injury won't last long." Balbanes gripped her hand tightly. "Fear not, Teta. I have fought and won many battles beyond counting. I will not succumb so easily to this infection."

The door opened. An older, bearded man stepped in. His orange hair was done up in a quiff, its tip flopping over the front of his face. He was clad in an exquisite robe, exuding an aura of dignity about him. He knelt in reverence to Balbanes. "At ease, Dycedarg," Balbanes said. Dycedarg rose to his feet. The eldest of the Beoulve brothers, he was a skilled diplomat and strategist who played a part in negotiating an end to the Fifty Years' War. "How goes the search?" asked Balbanes.

"We have traced Marquis Elmdor's kidnappers to Dorter, a trade city in eastern Gallione. We have tried to find out more, but sadly our sources have not been very... forthcoming of late," Dycedarg replied curtly.

Balbanes sighed. "We never imagined the Death Corps would attack his entourage. We were caught by surprise, and now those brigands have a hostage."

Dycedarg nodded. "I have instructed to locate the Marquis posthaste. Once he makes it back to Igros, we can start negotiations with Duke Goltana, and put an end to this damned succession crisis. But enough about that. Duke Larg's chemist has acquired an ointment that would help your injury."

"Good, good," nodded Balbanes. "Quickly, apply it to my wound, so that I would sooner know relief." Dycedarg moved to his bedside, and motioned for Teta to assist him. She quickly undid the bandages. The wound looked better, seemingly healed by Teta's attempts at curing it. Dycedarg gave her an odd look, but said nothing. "This won't hurt a bit," said Dycedarg. Uncorking the bottle, he poured the black liquid onto the wound.

Balbanes convulsed in pain. His body was burning, his limbs tearing apart. He could feel his lungs constricting, the air being forced out of his lungs. His vision was blurring, his body getting lighter.

"Dycedarg... how..." Balbanes gasped. Balbanes fell silent.

Dycedarg dropped the empty bottle, which shattered on the floor with a jangling crash. He grabbed Balbanes by the shoulders, trying to shake him awake, to no avail.

"It's no use. He is lost to us."

"Father!" Teta grabbed his hand. It was cold to the touch. "Why... why..?" Teta sobbed.

Dycedarg turned away from the scene. "Forgive me. I... need a moment to compose myself. I... will talk to Duke Larg. Get to the bottom of this." Dycedarg's voice was cold, his face emotionless. He abruptly left the room, leaving Teta to mourn Balbanes' death alone.


"Ramza, wait up!"

"Don't try to stop me, Delita. I will make Larg pay for what he has done."

Delita stared incredulously at the blond squire. To challenge Duke Larg's assertions was a foolhardy move on Ramza's part. Duke Larg was part of the royal family, and was trueborn brother to the Queen herself. A lowly squire such as Ramza stood no chance against him, even with his status as a noble. Even so, there was no evidence that Larg himself intended to kill Balbanes; he did not believe that a trusted friend of the Beoulves was capable of such treachery.

"Ramza, your brothers are investigating the issue, and I trust that they will find out exactly what happened. Right now, the Duke's chemist is going on trial for malpractice, and he will be punished for his transgressions. There is no cause for worry."

"That is precisely why I plan to pursue this matter," came Ramza's curt reply. "Duke Larg, my brothers and all the rest, they are all bound by their shallow titles and superficial relationships. They dare not challenge their boundaries, but meekly assume their places in society. I can already see how this is going to end. My brothers will withdraw their allegations as a 'personal favour' to the Duke, and we shall be none the wiser. I am the only one with the courage to seek justice for my father."

Delita furrowed his brow. Ramza spoke the truth, but he still could not fathom why Larg, or anyone for that matter, would want to kill Balbanes. The Fifty Years' War had ended, and Balbanes was no longer a Knight Commander of the Ivalice Army. Rather, he had assumed the mantle of a diplomat, negotiating settlements between the lords of Ivalice. However, it seemed no mere coincidence that his demise would coincide with the Marquis Elmdor's kidnapping, bringing the negotiations between Larg and Goltana to a halt.

"Ramza... the person behind all of this, I think that they are trying to sow discord between the Gallione and Limberry. For what purpose, I do not know. All I know is that we cannot let them get their way. We must rescue the Marquis and put a stop to this madness."

Ramza laughed. "Well, we better get moving. Where's the nearest Death Corps encampment? If we ask them nicely, maybe they'll apologise and hand the Marquis over like the well-behaved brigands they are. Or maybe they would prefer to kill us and stick our heads on the nearest pike. You can never tell with these guys sometimes."

"Dorter. He is in Dorter."

Teta stepped out of the shadows, a troubled look on her face. She had overheard the entire conversation, and it worried her greatly. "Dycedarg said that they had narrowed down the search to Dorter, that trade city in eastern Gallione. I think that they are holding the Marquis there." She shook her head. "Is there no other way? I fear the worst, that both of you would end up getting hurt, end up dead. I could not bear the thought..."

Ramza grinned. "We'll be alright. Between my magic and Delita's swordplay, there's nothing we can't handle." Delita nodded in agreement. "Ramza performed so well in the Academy, they had to group him with all the girls. You should have seen the looks on their faces. I don't blame them though, wouldn't want to be classmates with a smelly oaf such as him."

Teta smiled weakly. Reaching around her neck, she unclasped her necklace, fastening it around Delita's neck. "Brother... I want you to have this. It's the good luck charm Father bought for me, and I hope it will keep you safe on your travels." The emerald pendant glimmered in the sunlight, glowing brilliantly green. Delita embraced his sister. "We'll be back, Teta," Delita reassured. Ramza waved goodbye, and the two squires went on their way towards Dorter.

Teta sighed. No matter how hard she tried, she still could not help but fear for their safety. They were sinking ever further into the web of political intrigue, and she feared that they might come to harm. She prayed that the worst would not come to pass, prayed that they would find justice for Balbanes.


Author's note: Algus is absent in this chapter, and I don't intend to bring him in anytime soon. He's a gigantic ham, and I think it would be rather hard to justify his overdone class-ism (not sure if that's a word xD). I do have other plans for Zeakden though, so keep an eye out for that ;). I'm mostly making it up as I go along, so I have a vague idea of what I'm going to write, but it's not set in stone or anything. It'll mostly follow the structure of the plot, but I'll be changing a lot of details and a lot of characters as I go along.

Oh, and there aren't any Lucavi, Germonik Scriptures or holy stones in this fic. I'm going to keep it fairly realistic, sort of like real life except with magic and swordskills and class changes and stuff. Stay tuned for the next update!