Alis Volat Propiis
She Flies With Her Own Wings
Disclaimer: I am making no profit from this whatsoever.
A/N: This and the fifth chapter which will be up in a few days will probably be my last updates for awhile. I'm starting college in a few days, and I won't have the abundance of free time I had during the summer.
Chapter 4: Captivity and Freedom
"Agrias! Please let me in," Ovelia pleaded, pushing into the room, the locked door finally giving way. She was familiar with this tower, its highest point being a small and circular room, the smooth stone walls completely featureless. The room itself could be described as blasé save for the large window opposite the door; Agrias stood there, her sandy colored hair unbound, ragged, and dirty. She wore nothing but a long red gown which blew in the strong wind chilling the room through the open window.
The other woman turned, and smiled, "Don't pity me," arms splayed wide and hair wild all about her; her eyes shone with a feral madness. Everything seemingly happened in slow motion. Ovelia ran forward, hands outstretched to catch her mentor, subconsciously knowing all too well what the other woman was about to do.
Ovelia caught air, and Agrias' red garbed figure whistled through the wind laughing.
"I'm free! Free," Agrias' mad screams proclaimed.
Ovelia's face a perfect mask of horror, she doubled over retching.
The dream had troubled Ovelia for two days. She'd spoken to neither Ramza nor Alma of the matter, preferring to keep it to herself. Alma would be disappointed that she'd even consider the words of a liar. Caius, she thought of the spy ever since the brawl in the alley. What truths could they find in his words? Their map had been true, but what else was truth from the mouth of a liar? He'd told them that Agrias was mad, and she'd agonized over that days since they'd left his hut. The information had hit Ramza the hardest of them all, and she'd tried her best to convince him that if there was any madness at all in Agrias then it was the result of traveling between worlds and was wholly temporary, but her recent nightmares didn't leave her so certain.
Ovelia ruffled Rose Red's feathery head, and the chocobo cooed at the sudden touch. They'd passed through another village yesterday, and heard nothing more of the rumor of the three lords of Ivalice. Thankfully it hadn't spread so far in this direction; hopefully it was just concentrated around Aurelius' keep and lands. As they neared the grassy steppes marking the beginning of the mountain chain which would lead them back home, Ovelia had been struck with a certain sense of nostalgia. She yearned for the quiet of the monastery of her childhood, but she'd been a different person then. Ovelia could never return to that sort of life.
Between her worry for Agrias, the situation with Clemence, and her own homesickness, a cacophony of thoughts roared in Ovelia's head. Then, the woman remembered Alma's advice. She wasn't alone; this wasn't completely her burden to shoulder. She'd never wanted so badly to be in Zeltennia; when she'd fled after killing Delita, she never wanted to see the city again.
Ovelia threw her eyes forward, Alma was ahead of her on her Boco, the golden chocobo, and Ramza rode at the front on his grim black nameless steed. Alma told her that he'd found the beast in the wild and tamed it; the tale had greatly impressed her and she admired him even more. His armor shining in the sun, newly enchanted, Ramza was the image of a perfect hero to her. The very word, hero, had been spoiled on Ovelia's tongue for so long.
As Rose Red climbed in altitude, Ovelia took time to really admire her surroundings. Before, the land of Ordalia represented only possible threats to her- its forests harboring bandits and monsters, the flat plains home to panthers and more brigands, and its mountains holding many other beasts as well, but the chilly country truly was beautiful. She couldn't deny that she missed the warmer tropical climes of Ivalice, but a part of her heart would miss Ordalia. She ran one hand through the tall grasses reaching her knees as she rode on, savoring the deep greenness and health in them; dew still clung to every blade as if it were morning though it was truly closer to noon.
The temperature had begun to drop as they rode on, and her breath misted in the air. Then, a whistle caught her attention from ahead; Ramza was signaling them to halt.
"We'll rest here for two hours," Ramza shouted from ahead. It was true that they'd been riding since early morning. Ovelia dismounted, feeling the cramp of riding for many hours in her legs. The trio instantly set to making the semblance of a camp on the shadowed side of a hill; Ovelia set the chocobos to grazing only a short distance away.
The woman returned to the smell of roasting meats and vegetables in a crude metal pot over a small fire pit. Her stomach growled in complaint at having not eaten since before dawn, and Alma tending the meal chuckled.
"It'll be finished in thirty minutes' time," Alma assured her.
"It's just a matter of waiting patiently," Ovelia chattered amicably.
Ramza rounded the bend from whatever business he'd been off to since they'd made camp.
"Ovelia, spar," he called to her.
"You'd best be off, then," Alma murmured looking up to her, smiling knowingly, "You'll make a fine warrior someday, Ovelia."
"You jest," Ovelia replied, "You have more skill with the bow and your brother with the sword than I could ever hope to have with the dagger."
"Just have patience," Alma retorted, "With practice, your abilities will flourish."
Ovelia ran off to Ramza's side then, drawing her dagger. Ramza did likewise, signaling her to stand in a fighting stance.
"Today we'll work on your footwork," he looked to her feet, "You are too rigid. Stand so stiffly, and you'll signal your enemy to your every move. Know this whether you face human foes or beasts. You should worry about this even more when facing a beast; the knowledge of war making is instinctively equipped to their kind."
Ovelia took Ramza's words to heart, and loosened her stance, leaning slightly to the left.
"Straighten up, Ovelia," he ordered, "A slant in your stance decreases your range of attack," she vaguely wondered if Ramza ever knew how terrific of a military instructor he'd make for training knights. His education represented itself well. Ovelia straightened, unused to the new stance, but it was all for the greater good. Ramza cleared his throat, "Now, begin."
Ovelia charged forward, the flat of her blade slashing out at Ramza's side so that she'd do no lasting damage. Such precautions weren't needed as Ramza easily dodged her blow. Remain calm, she chanted internally. She wouldn't let herself get frustrated. She tried a different approach, feinting to the right then slashing out to the left. Still no such luck, Ramza dodged the blow as if he were reading her mind.
Now it was his turn to lash out, Ovelia dodged backwards, stumbling, barely missing his blows. He grazed her side lightly, "If that'd been a real blow, you would have been fighting for your life right now, Ovelia. Faster!"
Ovelia was dodging as quickly as she could; she didn't have to be reminded how close she'd been to death before. Grinding her teeth, resolute, Ovelia went for Ramza's sword hand, the blow which had won her the battle in the alley, but to her surprise he'd struck out at hers first, and it was she that fell backwards nursing the pain in her hand.
Ramza sheathed his dagger, and extended out his hand to hers, helping her up. She bent low to pick up her own blade and sheathe it, embarrassment burning her features.
"Never count on what your foe will already know, Ovelia," he murmured.
"That was awful," she replied, lowly.
"No, that was much needed practice, and you'll be all the better for it. You have a natural quickness and skill with a blade," then he echoed Alma's earlier words, "You'll make for a great warrior, but until then, I smell Alma's cooking, and I'd say it's time for a well deserved meal."
Free from thoughts of Agrias, Ovelia turned her thoughts to the court of Zeltennia. She pondered how Olan fared. Did he miss her? She certainly missed him; he had been one of the few people in Zeltennia that she'd felt any semblance of friendship for. She'd loved her husband with that an all consuming hero worship for all that he'd proclaimed to do in her name, but she'd always been slightly fearful of him. The thought to consider Delita a friend had never even crossed her mind. Her only confidant was Olan.
He probably hadn't been prepared at all to deal with Clemence, but she was certain that Ivalice wasn't caught in civil war quite yet, despite Caius' words. The trio had decided earlier that what he'd said about Ramza's companions and Clemence had been thoroughly truthful, after hearing the latter rumor echoed in a pub.
She pictured Clemence as she remembered him, lithely built with a slick of chestnut hair pulled back and bound. Ten years her senior, he'd stood near his mother during the entire dinner party they'd both attended, seemingly timid but very observant. She'd been nine then, and she was twenty-two now, that'd place him at thirty-two. She remembered Omdoria, her father, hadn't cared much for the boy, his young illegitimate brother; their shared father, Denamunda, was away at war as the Fifty Years' War was at its height. It was hard to picture that this boy...no this man was the root of all Ivalice's new unrest. Ovelia certainly gave him much more credit than she used to, once seeing Clemence as the very mask of weakness after a few more encounters with the man before she'd been sent off to live permanently at the monastery.
The trio's pace at which they'd begun traveling significantly slowed as the terrain roughened and the temperature continued to plunge. Alma had compared the temperature to Goland's, the coal city high in the mountains back home at Ivalice. She'd told Ovelia that it was very likely they'd see snow before their journey was over for the day, and it was true. A few white flakes of ice began to waft down from the heavens, Ovelia shivered with an almost childlike joy. She'd seen snow only very sparingly having spent the majority of her life in the very warm monasteries in Southern Ivalice.
During one of their many nights of shared watches, Ramza told Ovelia that it'd snowed a great deal during the winters in Igros, and he'd delighted playing in the snow as a child with Delita. He'd spoken his friend's name very haltingly, unsure how Ovelia would take it, but she assured herself that Delita's name no longer brought any feelings of malice to her mind.
Ovelia ran a hand through her hair, wiping free a few loose snowy flecks. The wind had picked up, whistling through higher mountain passes bringing more snow. The landscape quickly transformed into a realm of white all high snow covered pines, rocks, and earth. The sky was a pristine blue, and all birds save for the occasional hawk or eagle were scarce here.
They'd stopped for another short rest, very brief only to reequip themselves with heavy hooded mantles and for Ramza to peruse the map, Alma and Ovelia shielding the parchment from snow.
"There'll be no more villages until we reach Ivalice. So we'll be sleeping under the stars until then; if we're fortunate, we'll find an uninhabited cave," Ramza traced their path through the mountains with his finger. The next few days were going to be a trial, Ovelia's internal voice chimed.
In a lavishly decorated room high in Zeltennia's Imperial Castle, a brunette man in richly decorated robes sat across from a woman in a chair situated near a window.
The man studied her intently, "Agrias," he spoke softly as not to alert the woman, "Anything…anything at all today?" Her sand colored hair had been scrubbed clean as was she by earlier attending nurses; she'd been dressed in a proper white dress. Her once beautiful face prematurely aged; wrinkles were set deep around her eyes and forehead. The man raked a hand through his hair, yet one of many problems he'd been called upon to tend to as regent, but he promised Ovelia he'd look after the kingdom that Ivalice would flourish under his reign. So far, Olan would assess this endeavor's result as far from exemplary.
Then, suddenly Agrias perked up, "Darkness," she stammered, "Dark, my eyes are dark. Ramza," her breath hitched with fear, "I'm falling! I'm fading," she screamed.
Olan clutched at Agrias' arms to keep the woman from injuring herself again, "It's not real, Agrias. It's all an illusion."
"My sword!" Her cry pierced his ears, "Where's my sword? Oh god, the devil killed our summoner. Ramza, run. She's coming. She's coming," Agrias' sudden outburst was traded for a series of spasms. She flung out her arms and gyrated in her chair, Olan fought to steady her.
"Help!" Olan called to the door of her room, knowing a mage and guard were posted on its opposite side at all times. The two came rushing into the room.
"Sleep," the mage intoned, the spell hitting Agrias; her protests calmed instantly, and Olan carried her over to her bed, covering her up. He left the chamber leaving the mage at Agrias' bedside and the guard at the door.
Olan had summoned the kingdom's best physicians and mages but none could cure her ailment. He'd exhausted his own expansive library at his family's personal estate, trying to find the cause of her madness. The ravings of her lunacy chilled him. Whatever horrors had driven so strong a knight mad he never wanted to encounter. He'd decided that it'd be best for her be kept under an enchanted sleep as often as possible, though he loathed seeing her so.
As he strode through the long hallway, lords, ladies, and servants of the court bowed their heads to pay their respects to him as regent. Regent, he scoffed in his mind, to a brat that shirked his lessons and was poisoned by his mother's lies during his monthly scheduled visitation to the castle in which she was imprisoned in Lesalia. She'd cried that a mother shouldn't be denied the right to see her child, and the noble faction that opposed him agreed with the ever power hungry banshee. Olan sighed, but Orinas was young, only four years old and still very much a boy. He could hardly blame the child for his behavior; Olan would see that he'd be properly brought up if only he could keep Ruvelia, the boy's mother, from ruining him.
Olan pulled back the door to the royal meeting chamber finding at least a dozen attendants, couriers, and advisors waiting to converse with him. He waved a hand signaling for them to wait and sat at his desk.
"You first," he said pointing to the attendant nearest his desk.
This attendant was small mousy haired woman. She wrung her hands, "Health, your majesty."
"Formalities aren't needed in this chamber," Olan retorted, looking down at a scattered series of letters from dukes, lords, and marquises throughout the kingdom. The new Marquis of Limberry complained of rising unrest amongst his peasantry. He gazed upward to give the woman his full attention, "Speak."
"Nobles supporting Clemence have been seen ransacking Orbonne Monastery, milord," the girl replied, unable to completely discard Olan's title.
Olan's eyes screwed up in a razor like stare, "What would take them to that damned place? Orbonne has been abandoned since the end of the war, anything of value already pilfered by knaves and brigands."
"I know not, milord," the girl replied, "Our eyes there said they saw the knights retrieve a parchment of some sort, however."
Olan nodded, now curious as to what the document said, "Look more into the matter and report back to me as soon as possible."
"Yes, milord," the woman scurried off.
"Next," he signaled to the courier behind that had stood beside the woman silently waiting his turn in line to speak to the regent. The man handed him a letter.
"Milord expects a reply speedily," the courier murmured graciously, looking towards his toes unwilling to look Olan in the eyes.
Olan sighed, frustrated, "I haven't the time at the moment. I will send for you to return to this chamber within a few hours for my reply," he placed the letter to the side and spent the next two hours dealing with the others in the room. Luckily, he hadn't been told anything as troubling as the news of Clemence's men in Orbonne. He was used to hearing news of peasant revolts and growing unrest in Ivalice; he loathed that the drought still continued in Gallione and that there was very little that could be done. He'd emptied nearly half the royal coffers attempting to appease the poor, and that was working slowly but steadily. All he had to have was patience. In the end, hopefully it'd work against Clemence, who the commoners had begun to view as something of a people's hero. Just like Delita, Olan thought darkly.
Having the next few hours to himself, before Olan had to return to the dreaded chamber, he strode onto the lands surrounding the castle having a goal in the mind, the castle's crypt. Two knights walked at his side; Olan loathed being followed by the guards, missing his old freedom but such things were for his own good.
Tracing a familiar path to the low lying stone structure half submerged into the earth, Olan stepped inside the crypt, an eerie mood sweeping over him. The true royal crypt lay back at the old imperial capital, Lesalia, housing all of Ovelia's forefathers, but Olan had two impromptu graves made here for Ovelia and Delita. He'd never dare desecrate the true royal crypt with a bastard like Delita.
This crypt housed many royal cousins to Ovelia, mostly Goltana's forefathers. It was said that one true king of Ivalice whom had died hundreds of years ago was housed somewhere deep inside the crypt. Olan passed dusty corridors and shelves lined with the skulls of knights and attendants, their bodies buried beneath the stone floor of the tomb following tradition.
Down another set of stairs and through a long grey corridor, Olan found his destination. He turned to the two knights at his flanks, taking a torch from one, "Await my return at these doors."
Alone now, Olan shut the marble doors behind him, journeying through another short corridor, and reached a small rectangular chamber. The room housed three raised graves, two occupied and one empty. He strode by the first coffin, a small rectangular box of marble, spat on the second, and stopped the third.
"Hello again, Ovelia," he greeted full well knowing the woman wasn't dead, but that she'd escaped to a simpler existence far from Zeltennia, "I pray that you are happy wherever you may be at the moment," Ovelia decided in the end that it was best that he didn't know where she'd gone; it made the guise of her death that much more believable, "But, know that I haven't failed you yet. I'll save this kingdom by any means possible."
Olan suddenly shifted topic, looking back to the corridor behind him for a moment and turned back to Ovelia's grave speaking to her as if she were there, "I apologize about Agrias' state. I've done everything I could for her. We do the best we can here to see that she's safe, clean, and well-fed, but what sort of life is that? I try not to despair, but my thoughts have been dark of late," Olan began to walk from the chamber to his awaiting knights, but turned suddenly to Ovelia's grave once more, "Health, my friend," and then he was off without another word.
An hour after the sun had fallen behind the high peaks, a low growl caught Ovelia's attention. Ramza and Alma were a small ways ahead of her, and she scanned the nearest ledges for the source of the sound; snow obscured her vision.
"Ramza…Alma," Ovelia called softly enough to not alert the creature that'd made the sound but loud enough for Ramza and Alma to turn towards her. Catching her expression, they rode to where she stood.
Ovelia shook her head, "I'm certain the noise was an animal's growl, but it could be the wind's howl."
Alma surveyed their surroundings, "The snow hides almost everything up high."
"We should ride in a tighter formation," Ramza suggested.
"A sound notion," Ovelia agreed. They rode on for many hours until it was late into the night, Ovelia's unseen predator never revealing itself. Ramza finally decided that it was best they made camp. Spending another hour searching for a cave and not finding one, they settled for an area of the open earth where the snow was the lightest. They shared a meal of cold dried meat; making a fire had proven impossible in the windy mountains. It was Alma that suggested they sleep closer together that night with the chocobos huddled near them for warmth.
Continuing their nightly tradition, Ovelia lay against a sleeping Rose Red staring into the nighttime gloom with Ramza at her side as Alma slept. Neither really had spoken since they'd begun the watch, and so Ovelia passed the time thinking. Her mind ghosted over thoughts of Olan. How had he been faring? Did he still think of her? This was followed by a similar series of questions, and then she returned to the nightmare. Agrias…Ovelia's insides froze thinking of the other woman, and then a new thought unfurled in her mind completely unbidden as if it had floated in from the outside air on the drifting snow. Ramza had seemed to care for Agrias quite a lot. How deep did that affection run?
Glancing over to the man in question, Ovelia's cheeks colored. She ran a hand through her hair, a nervous habit. Her train of thought had seemingly become more increasingly derailed whenever she was near Ramza. Ovelia audibly sighed in frustration.
"All well?" Ramza questioned, glancing over to the woman.
Ovelia waved her hand in air, "Fine…all fine," she wrung her hands and looked down to her feet. Since when had she worn her emotions so openly? Hadn't she been groomed for better? When she was Queen, no, even a princess it had been her lot in life as royalty to contain herself; she remembered her only emotional outburst occurring when she'd discovered the true validity of her noble birthright and cried her way into Delita's arms. Nothing was logical now; she'd fractured into many little pieces which coexisted as separate entities in one body. There was the Ovelia that was ready and all too willing to assume the role of warrior queen, and then there was the woman she'd always been, shy and quiet.
"Ovelia," she heard Ramza call to her softly at her side.
"Hmmm?" Ovelia never looked up from her feet still lost in her thoughts.
"Are you sure that you are fine? You're very quiet tonight," Ramza began and continued, "I hope you're not angry with me over the sparring session earlier; I know it was quite different than our earlier lessons. If it's too much, too soon-"
"No, that's not it at all," Ovelia murmured. I just believe I may be beginning to feel emotions which aren't appropriate for me to feel for you, she left off, saying instead, "I'm just troubled tonight."
"Ah," Ramza replied knowingly, understanding nothing, "It's Clemence."
"Yes," she lied, licking her lips, "I am worried for Ivalice. It has been troubling me for the entire day," that had been truthful. Clemence and Ivalice had occupied a good portion of her mind throughout the day.
"Something has troubled me as well," Ramza replied lowly, looking away suddenly from Ovelia, staring off into the night's gloom as if he couldn't look her in the eye, "It's a selfish thought. I know it. You'd be most disappointed in me, Ovelia."
Ovelia's eyes widened; the man who defined selflessness having a selfish thought? Impossible. She had to know, "What is it?" she breathed.
Ramza blushed and scratched his hair, "I am ashamed. While you so selflessly worry for the welfare of Ivalice, my thoughts haven't nearly been so magnanimous. I've tried to think solely of Ivalice, but I confess my mind is divided by thoughts of Agrias' welfare. It's foolish of me, but I cannot banish Caius' words from my mind. I wouldn't be able to bear it if she were mad."
Ovelia's heart fell, and suddenly she was the one who felt ashamed. The woman was her mentor and guard; she'd protected her with her life often almost at the expense of her own many a day when Larg had been out for her blood, and here she was having the audacity to feel a petty jealousy over a stupid infatuation. There, she'd admitted it to herself finally, after having spent the last week denying it. Ramza was so completely different from Delita, almost his opposite, and she couldn't help but find herself drawn to him, captivated by him. His actions reflected nothing but true nobility; she'd found any excuse to catch spare glimpses of him even though she and he were together nearly the entire day, every day for the last month. What right did she have feel any ill will towards Agrias or his love for her. Hadn't she, herself, agonized over Agrias and her wellbeing after her nightmare for two full days, but she couldn't cast aside of her paltry spite for any love that Ramza held for the woman.
"I understand completely," Ovelia replied, her tone unrecognizably hollow. She damned herself for her insincerity…this jealousy was entirely an animal reaction.
Ramza mistook her tone for one of anguish and patted her arm, "But, we mustn't despair. The truth will be revealed when we reach Zeltennia. Until then, I promise you that I won't let my personal feelings cloud my judgment."
Unlike, I, Ovelia thought bitterly, not voicing her reply.
A roar split the air, undoubtedly the creature Ovelia heard earlier. Never a dull moment, Ovelia thought almost happy for the distraction. While Ramza woke Alma, Ovelia rose to her feet, drawing her dagger. The chocobos were up in an instant, hissing at their approaching enemies.
Then, Ramza was at her side, sword drawn, and Alma readied her bow from the rear. Now, they waited. Hot breath misting in the air as they padded through the snow, their great paws slowed to a predatory march, eight panthers stalked through the white line of falling snow in a perfect half circle into Ovelia's field of vision like ghosts; the snow created an odd aura around their great golden bodies. Ovelia understood instantly what the panthers were doing; they were boxing her and her companions in so there'd be no escape.
Alma let an arrow fly, downing one panther instantly. One down, seven to go, Ovelia mentally cursed. Rapidly reloading, Alma wounded another in the leg; the creatures wised up, and charged before giving Alma time to pick off another. Now, it was time for her to act, Ovelia thought falling into a battle stance remembering what Ramza had taught her.
Straighten up- she could almost hear his voice in her head, her eyes focused on one that had zeroed in on her in particular. She charged forward, dodging the panther's vicious bite. She slashed at the mighty beast's side, and it yelped in pain returning a ferocious scratch of its own. Its great clawed paw caught in Ovelia's leg. She screamed but didn't halt for a moment, stabbing upward underneath the panther's throat. That was the blow that finished the beast.
Another of the great cats whistled through the air landing at her side, dead, a chocobo's talon marks set deep in its flesh. Had it been behind her? She turned and Rose Red warked in reply, pawing at the ground before launching itself at another of the beasts. Three were dead by Ovelia's count. She turned to Ramza, two more lay at his feet, and at some point in the mêlée Alma had turned to magic, the singed smell of another panther's flesh reaching her nose. The chocobos made short work of the other two, and then as quickly as it began, the battle was over.
Staggering over to Alma and Ramza, Ovelia suddenly became aware of the full extent of her wound.
"Ovelia, you did well," Ramza began ready to congratulate her on slaying the panther alone; he stropped abruptly catching sight of the horrendous gash along Ovelia's leg.
"Anything for your approval," Ovelia murmured, her words slurring. Dizziness overtook her, and she collapsed onto her side.
"Traitor," Agrias accused, her beautiful features made harsh when her face was contorted into such a frightful mask of anger.
"No," Ovelia shook her head, waving her hands. She was half appalled by Agrias' smashed form, rivulets of blood, fragments of bone, and flesh framing her body. Her legs were obscured by her red robe, and Ovelia was half disgusted with herself at being repulsed by her friend.
"You left me when I needed you…stole my freedom away," Agrias laughed, a certain madness catching in her voice.
Ovelia stammered, "I tried to save you, Agrias, tried to stop you from jumping-"
"Liar!" Agrias screamed, "You were the one that pushed me. Don't you remember?"
"No, I would never. Agrias, I would never harm you. I wanted to help you… I want to help you still," Ovelia cried, tears beginning to form at the corners of her eyes.
"Help me?" Agrias laughed, "Look at the state of me. Rob me of sight and body," the woman pointed an impossibly broken arm towards the tower's highest point some seventy feet in the air from where the two were now.
Ovelia sank to her knees, wiping at her eyes, "Agrias, you were the one to jump. I tried to stop you," she repeated, her voice breaking.
The other woman laughed again and lapsed into a coughing fit, blood spraying upon her lips. Then, her eyes turned fiery once more, "Manipulator," Agrias spat.
"Never!" Ovelia screamed, fighting against a pair of strong arms holding her down. She was no manipulator; her vision cleared and she peered upward into Ramza's face. Alma was at her leg. .
"What happened?" Ovelia inquired, feeling a headache coming on.
"Welcome back to the land of the living," Ramza replied cheekily but she could see relief plainly in his eyes.
"Oh," Ovelia exhaled her mouth a perfect circle. It all came flooding back, the battle and the wound from the panther.
"Lucky for you," Alma chimed, looking up from Ovelia's leg, "the wound was shallow. Unluckily though it was poisoned. A panther's claws are its most dangerous accessories. It's never the bite you should fear."
Ovelia groaned, still lagging miles behind both Ramza and Alma in wisdom. Closing her eyes once more while Alma tended to her, Ovelia muttered, "How long was I unconscious?"
"You never really were," Ramza answered her looking away, "You were delirious. Nothing you said made much sense to either of us."
Ovelia's eyes popped open, "What did I say?"
"Most of it was rather slurred and incoherent. You did mutter something about a window though," Alma answered the woman, rubbing a strange salve over Ovelia's wound; a sudden coolness pervading throughout her leg. The injured woman sighed audibly, relieved.
"Worried you'd confessed a deep, dark secret aloud for us to hear, Ovelia?" Alma retorted, wagging her brows. She then chanted a quick curing spell over the wound, the flesh mending anew.
"Catty, catty, girl. What cheek," Ovelia countered.
Alma gave Ovelia's knee a pinch.
"Ow," the woman replied in protest squirming underneath Alma's touch. Despite all of her motherly ways, Alma had a playful soul.
"All cured then," Alma replied, "There's nothing that can be done for the leggings though. If you want to wrap a bit of bandaging around it to keep out the cold, then that's fine by me."
Ovelia pulled herself to her feet, bandaging the torn fabric. She'd have to purchase new armor in Ivalice, and that's all there was to it. Hers had been significantly worn as it was, even before the panther's attack. She glanced over to Ramza who'd been strangely quiet, and then a statement that had been forgotten until now arose in her mind.
Anything for your approval, the phrase echoed in her head. Ovelia's features flushed.
"Still feeling out of sorts?" Alma asked, looking at the girl.
"No, I'm fine," Ovelia shook her head.
"Good," it was Ramza that spoke then, "With fresh blood on the air, I think we should resume travel early. I wouldn't want to be here for any other monsters these carcasses attract."
Ovelia nodded. It was sound judgment. The three hastily cleared up their camp and soon found themselves on the road again, starlight guiding them on. Ivalice, Ovelia's eyes were set forward on her homeland though all she could see in the immediacy were Ordalia's high white peaks, I return to you.