Chapter 7: Precious Burdens
Lionel Castle was a foreboding place with a foreboding history.
Some twelve centuries ago, Saint Ajora Glabados - or, at least, the Saint Ajora Glabados most Ivalicians believed had died a martyr those many hundreds of years ago - was taken to the gates of this ancient fortress in chains, having been captured by the Holy Ydoran Empire. The priesthood of the ancient faith of Pharism, seeing their flocks diminishing as more and more of their followers were lured away by this new rising star, had used their deep rooted influence in the empire to quash the would-be usurper of the spiritual reins of Ivalice.
They had soon after dragged the reputed child of the gods to the Gallows of Golgollada, which would be remembered with infamy thereafter.
And, in so doing, they had signed their own death warrant.
Soon after Saint Ajora gasped his last in the grip of the noose, Murond, the heart of Pharism, was devoured by the raging seas. Even more than twelve hundred years later, only a tiny sliver of island remained of Murond where, ironically, the center of the Church of Glabados was later erected.
Since then, the faith which was built upon Glabados's reputed divinity and teachings had grown in strength, especially in recent years as it fed on the disdain many Ivalicians held for the crown and the nobility after Ivalice's defeat in the Fifty Years War. Yet now, with much of the church's leadership gone, the men and women of the cloth, much like their flocks, found themselves seeking their bearings in the new world that had been born from the ashes of the War of the Lions...
...at least that was some of them would say if asked in confidence, and more than a few of them would've believed it. However, the truth, known to only a handful of people, was far more complicated.
The newly crowned king, Delita Hyral the First, was one of those few, as was the newly ordained High Confessor Ryker. And, in an unspoken addition to the litany of ironies that so characterized Ivalice's spiritual history, the former had gone from the latter's puppet to the puppeteer of all he surveyed. Still, pragmatic enough to know that unmasking the church's machinations would backfire, Delita had contented himself with watching his former masters dancing upon the strings.
And, through it all, the grim walls and battlements of Lionel Castle, which had seen the rise and fall of one faith and the trials and tribulations of another, remained a silent witness to the unfolding of history.
Some of that history, however, was far more recent and had struck close to the heart of the Ivalician people.
Many had wept long and bitterly at the death of Cardinal Draclau.
Unlike many of those who had stood at the helm of Ivalice during the Fifty Years War, Draclau's name had never been spoken in contemptuous whispers, for all remembered his knightly heroics during that terrible conflict and his near daily efforts to shore up the peoples' belief that a better future yet remained attainable amidst those dark days.
But, again, the truth was more complicated.
Even if the people could be convinced that the reason they'd been barred from attending the cardinal's funeral was so that none would discover he had spent his final years in the service of demonkind, how much deeper that terrible revelation would grind in the dagger that was already sheathed their hearts.
Suffice to say, the name Ramza Beoulve, who was widely believed to have been responsible for the cardinal's death, was spoken only in the most furtive and scornful whispers.
However, once again, the truth was more complicated.
Many months after this tragedy, Celebrant Bremondt had arrived to take up the late cardinal's duties. Though none would dare say so aloud, all were soon quite certain that the delusional and cowardly Celebrant was no Draclau and, before they could even force themselves to swallow the notion of being under his governance, he too had been slain by the heretic Ramza.
And, in such dark times, two liege lords in as many years meeting untimely ends while acting at the behest of the Church of Glabados as governors of an ancient holding of the pagan Pharists - their deaths coming at the hand of a heretic, no less - was more than enough to cause the people to regard the ancient castle with no small amount of dread.
Some believed the castle to be haunted by the evil pagan spirits of the ancient Pharists while others, who had been leery of the castle even before Draclau's death, reiterated long held beliefs that the edifice should be torn down. Both groups, however, gave a wide berth to the empty castle...
...or, at least, they had thought it was empty.
On one quiet evening, the subdued activity of the city that lay in the shadows of the abandoned castle jerked to a halt when, to everyone's collective astonishment, the wailing of a child echoed from within the castle's master bedroom. Every pair of eyes snapped in the direction of the sound, and their amazement grew by leaps and bounds when an oil lamp in the window of the castle's master bedroom flared to life and a woman's gentle humming wafted out from within.
"I tell you, the castle's haunted," somebody murmured, his words punctuated by fearful whimpers.
SSSSSS
"Lady Agrias, how's this?" Lavian asked as she and Alicia, both twins skillfully balancing themselves on a pair of ladders, held between them a new painting Ramza had purchased to liven up the otherwise bare and dreary foyer of Lionel Castle.
And, indeed, the castle sorely needed such color to alleviate its vast expanses of clammy stone.
Ramza's companions had been, to put it mildly, rather skeptical at the notion of trusting the manipulative King Delita's promise of issuing pardons for the companions and creating new identities for the surviving Beoulve siblings. And, the former Beoulve had met with no small amount of resistance at the notion of his group taking up residence in the very site of their first battle against the Lucavi, not to mention that very place where Ramza had been branded a heretic and where Beowulf had been similarly besmirched after his beloved Reis had been turned into a dragon by Bremondt's errant curse.
Yet, despite the infamous secret history of both Delita and Lionel Castle, Ramza had held fast to his conviction that Delita could be trusted to be truthful when it suited him and, on a more practical note, that he wished for a safe and permanent home for the most innocent of the Beoulve line. Given Lionel Castle's new-found infamy, even the reward for capturing a supposed heretic could not tempt would-be bounty hunters to dare entering their new home.
Though some were still leery at the notion, all remembered how Ramza had guided them through one harrowing escapade after another. And, when weighed against the faith each of the companions had in young Beoulve's leadership and judgment, these fears simply could not prevail.
Bonds had been forged amidst the horrors of war and the travails of fighting against the worst of mankind and demonkind, bonds which were not easily broken.
Maybe new troubles would cross their doorstep, which was always possible given Ramza's supposed heresy, or maybe their future travails would take a form which had nothing to do with his alleged crimes. All that was certain was that, if their doorstep was darkened, whoever was responsible would find the true heroes of the War of the Lions armed and ready to face the threat.
For now, however, the Murry twins, who regarded Agrias Oaks as the older sister they never had, were quite eager to liven up the castle for their "niece".
Agrias, who in the past had been likened to an animated marble statue for her combination of cool beauty and grimly silent demeanor, found a smile breaking across her face at the twins's handiwork. After following Ramza and Agrias all over Ivalice and into the underworld to do battle against the Lucavi and emerging victorious, this delicate task was child's play to the two. Some amongst their former comrades in the Lionsguard would surely consider such a task to be demeaning, and Agrias might've agreed, but she was nonetheless most grateful that the pair had stayed at her side through the endless battles and her unexpected pregnancy.
The twins had grown in skill and wits during the war, even adopting different vocations for the first time in their shared memory. Alicia had made brief explorations into the craft of the thief and the archer before finding the role of the monk to her liking, while Lavian had made forays into the role of white mage, mystic, and, ultimately, summoner. While they'd enjoyed the experiment, and their new skills had served them well in many battles, old habits promptly reasserted themselves once the War of the Lions was over. Lavian and Alicia had ultimately decided that they missed fighting shoulder to shoulder and returned to their long held practice of fighting together, as well as their childhood habit of dressing alike. So alike, in fact, that only those close to the twins could tell them apart, and even then only because Lavian had a small mole on her left cheek while Alicia's was on her right.
Currently, the twins were garbed in a pair of outfits based on the legendary, if strangely titled, Onion Knight. Both wore colorful doublets ending in short skirts, as well as high leather boots. Atop their heads, they wore ornate helms of ancient design, with distinctive visors that had a number of vertical eye slits, topped with a regal array of colored feathers. The one liberty they'd taken recreating the Onion Knights' uniform was that, rather than tucked into their helms, their long blonde hair cascaded freely to their shoulders. The flamboyant ensemble might make the twins look, to the untrained eye, more the part of ceremonial guards or stage actors than hardened veterans. But, again, those close to the twins knew better; and few were closer to them than their small audience below.
Agrias gazed up at the pair, still smiling as she gently rocked her infant daughter in her arms. Much like the younger knights above, she too had changed her garb after the War of the Lions had come to an end. Rather than the armor of the Lionsguard, she was clad in a dress of deep blue and light gray that brought out the color of her azure eyes. Much like motherhood, however, the dress had come as a surprise and fit on her rather awkwardly...
...literally as well as figuratively.
The elderly couple who'd kept the inn where Rachel had been born had given the dress to the new parents as a gift and, though the wife had spun it herself and with great skill, they had refused any payment. Their happy but nostalgic expressions as they'd presented the gift suggested that, like Ramza and Agrias, they were all too familiar with the challenges and complications which arose when parenthood came unbidden.
Perhaps they saw a bit of themselves in the new parents; two lovers who had unexpectedly learned just how capricious life could be. Yet, the holy knight suspected, the elderly couple had faced and succeeded in the same challenging journey which Ramza and Agrias had found themselves embarking upon when Agrias discovered she was with child. And, perhaps, their gift had been an unspoken affirmation that the younger couple would succeed as well.
Perhaps it was the early effects of motherhood on the holy knight's once strictly practical mind that caused her to accept the dress, or maybe it had been the wistfully happy expressions when the elderly couple had, quite possibly, witnessed some of their own stories of parenthood playing out before their eyes.
More likely, however, it was how, upon seeing the dress, Rachel had reached out and tangled her little fingers in the fabric, smiling all the while.
Whatever the reason, the holy knight had accepted the gift.
When Agrias had pressed the couple for details, they said the dress had originally been made for their daughter, but she had eloped with a famous bard before it had been finished. Though the elderly couple had since reconciled with their daughter and her husband, they hadn't been able to pass along the dress and, upon meeting Ramza and Agrias, thought it might find a good home with the young parents.
If the dress had, indeed, been made for the innkeepers' daughter, then she must've been a budding giantess.
Agrias stood at a respectable height of five feet and eight inches, but the dress's intended owner must've been taller by a sizable margin. The dress was much too long below the waist, and pooled upon the floor in a broad expanse of dragging fabric that covered her feet completely. What's more, the blouse was rather tight due to the muscles Agrias had built up during her years of wielding a blade. And, even if that hadn't been the case, the blouse's pinching her milk laden breasts would've more than made up for it.
The holy knight supposed that, much like when she continued to wear her armor during her pregnancy, her present garb must've made her look quite ridiculous. Or, to more charitable eyes, like a young mother whose knowledge of that role was sorely lacking. Yet, though there was truth in both, she nonetheless still carried herself with the poise and fortitude of the proud holy knight she was. The strength of arms and conviction that had made her a ferocious defender of the then-princess Ovelia, and a far more fearsome protector of her new-found family, would never leave her, even if she never took up the sword again.
Though Agrias hadn't taken the field since learning of her pregnancy, she nonetheless waged many battles of a different sort nowadays.
Since Agrias had given birth, her hands had been full caring for Rachel as well as running her new household alongside Ramza. The irony was not lost on her that their new home was the castle which had once been the domain of their enemies, the late Cardinal Draclau and Celebrant Bremondt. However, when weighed against the prospect of raising her daughter while on the run from church and state alike or amidst hostile foreign lands, the choice had been a simple one...
...at least, the decision had been simple. Making a reality of that decision had proven to be anything but.
After the passing of the castle's previous lords, Lionel Castle had been left abandoned by former residents and outsiders alike, and this neglect were made plain by the yards thick dust that carpeted the stone and the veritable forest of cobwebs that had sprung up amongst the pillars, rafters, and window frames during the several months prior to the arrival of its new tenants. Ramza, Agrias, and Alma had moved in shortly after accepting Delita's offer, along with Lavian, Alicia, and Rad whom King Delita conveniently sent to live with them as their bodyguards. When they'd first arrived, Lionel Castle had seemed more akin to a forgotten tomb; silent, forlorn, and heavy with the dust of ages. Fortunately for its new tenets, however, the castle remained furnished, likely because those who would've looted an empty castle were too superstitious to dare its doorstep. Thus, the small band needed only to clean away the dust to make it comfortable to live in. Still, perhaps owing to her burgeoning maternal instincts, Agrias thought it wouldn't hurt to add a few more touches to the place since this collection of cold and drafty halls would likely become their permanent home.
If this was to be her daughter's home, she wanted it to look and feel the part rather than the foreboding mass of rock she remembered from Draclau's time or the gloomy mausoleum she'd been greeted with upon returning to the site where the group had slain their first demon.
"Just a little more to the left!" the holy knight instructed. The twins obeyed and moved the painting, an antique picture of a phoenix rising from a dying conflagration that had largely turned to ashes, slightly to the left. The painting had caught Agrias's eye while she was shopping in Dorter Trade City with the twins. She had thought, correctly, that her friends would appreciate the symbolism, and the irony, of that the picture. How well, indeed, the image of fire and death becoming rebirth and renewal represented of their journey, their victory against Altima, and their emergence from the ruins of Orbonne Monastery.
"Yes, my lady! How's this?" Alicia asked, rousing the holy knight from her reverie.
"Perfect!" Agrias said with a smile. "Ok, that will be all for now. And, thank you for your help. I really think that painting was just the touch this place needed."
"I do say so, my dear lady," Alicia concurred as she slid down her ladder, promptly adopting the tone of a verbose and snobbish art connoisseur whom the twins had met years ago and behind whose back they'd told many a joke. "It's bold, yet subtle."
"Classical, yet non-traditional," Lavian added as she joined her twin, smirking as she recalled that the man whom they parodied had a penchant for doublespeak.
In another time, such shenanigans would've merited a reprimand from the humorless and disciplined Agrias. Now, however, she snickered at their antics and turned her gaze upon Rachel.
"Your aunties are very silly," she commented to Rachel, who seemed to be laughing along with the twins.
"No, her favorite aunties are very silly," Lavian corrected, and the pair promptly moved in to accentuate the point by crowding around the baby and making funny faces.
Rachel, who never needed much encouragement, quickly began giggling merrily at the display and, despite herself, Agrias soon joined in.
Once more, Agrias found herself marveling at how much she had changed since meeting Ramza. Not so long ago, she would have frowned upon such a frivolous display. Now, however, she had a keen appreciation for the catharsis of laughter and the strange way that her worries for her daughter and her future seemed to diminish when in the presence of friends new and old.
And, one of the former had chosen to make himself known at that moment, for Alicia and Lavian suddenly found themselves being lifted into the air.
"Oh, you ladies slacking off while I've been scrubbing down those windows?" Rad asked, gazing up at the twins upon his shoulders.
The still giggling twins made a pretense of trying to extricate themselves from his grasp, but promptly ceased their squirming in favor of kissing the dark knight on each cheek. Agrias felt more than a hint of disapproval at the sight, but worked to keep her features from showing any such reproach. Though Agrias wasn't quite the iron-clad disciplinarian she had been before sleeping with Ramza, she had not been thrilled when she noticed that Rad and the twins were routinely passing the night in the same tent. Rad only said the trio was having some harmless fun before turning in, though Agrias somehow doubted she and Rad had the same definition of the word "harmless". The twins vouched for him, however, and Agrias decided that, having earned her trust many times over, the pair deserved the benefit of the doubt.
Besides, considering Agrias might very well be having similar conversations with Rachel when she was older, the holy knight decided she'd best pick her battles carefully.
"It does look much better in here, though," Rad commented, making short jumps and wheeling about in the air while the twins clung to him for dear life. "I think we've earned a breather, and I for one am anxious to have some fun with my favorite playmates."
"Just don't hit the ceiling this time," Agrias said, almost thankful when Rachel began to fuss.
"With what?" the twins asked in comical unison, sporting identical cheeky grins.
"Anything at all. Well, it looks like Rachel is getting hungry, so if you three rascals will excuse me…"
"Of course, Lady Agrias", Lavian said with a wink. "We'll get back to work once we've...gone a few rounds. Just leave everything to us!"
The holy knight, forcing herself not to cringe at the image of what those 'rounds' would look like, nodded and left the castle foyer, making her way to one of the bedrooms to feed her daughter. Given that she was practically swimming in her dress, one might've imagined she'd be terrified of tripping over her too-long skirts and toppling over while carrying her precious burden. And, indeed, that dread prospect was never far from the holy knight's mind. Yet, to her amazement, though her eyes never once strayed from those of her daughter, her feet seemed to wend their way to the bedroom of their own accord without so much as a stumble. When Agrias had mentioned this to Reis, the dragonkin had simply smiled and chuckled good naturedly.
Whatever revelation Reis had left unspoken, Agrias was grateful for it. Since Rachel had been born, Agrias rarely got a full night's sleep, as the infant needed to be fed once every few hours. All too often, the holy knight found herself waking up in the middle of the night to nurse and, after that, settling in, almost entranced, to rock her until the sun peeked over the horizon.
Needless to say, Agrias was happy to take whatever small mercies she could get.
Although Ramza did everything he could to help with Rachel's care, this late night nursing was something only the child's mother could do. In addition to getting used to their ironic new home, the young couple had the much greater challenge of getting used to being parents as well. They shared the master bedroom, though only after those magically inclined amongst Ramza's former classmates from the academy had confirmed that no demonic presence yet remained, and kept their daughter in a cradle nearby. During the day, whenever Agrias needed to rest and Ramza and Rad were busy tending the castle, Rachel was cared for by Alma and the twins. Just as surely as they'd fawned over Agrias during her pregnancy, Alicia and Lavian, who already adored the baby girl, couldn't have been kept from her by several Lucavi demons. Alma was also eager to care for her newborn niece, not the smallest reason being that she'd soon be a mother herself, but few could miss the wistful expression that crossed her face when she thought no one was looking.
Though the group had by now learned that Izlude was the father of Alma's baby, and had even coaxed a few stories about him from the Beoulve girl, they nonetheless refrained from prying out of respect for her grief. Besides which, the small group frankly had their hands full with the new and strange circumstances they'd found themselves in.
Apart from taking care of Rachel, there was also the matter of clearing away the neglect the castle had suffered since the deaths of its former lords. In order to maintain the secrecy of the Beoulve siblings' identities, the companions had to make do without the convenience of servants, though it would have been difficult to convince anyone to live and work in the castle anyway. Beowulf and Reis, who had settled in a nearby village, visited often and helped out in any way they could, and the dragonkin had been invaluable in helping Agrias and Alma take their first steps into motherhood. It would probably take months to clean the whole castle with only the six of them, and perhaps longer still before Lionel Castle felt like less like a home-in-exile and more like a true home, but nobody complained. It was enough that they, as well as their rest of their companions who accompanied them throughout their journey, had survived the war and had at least a chance of living peacefully, even if it was in hiding. They just had to wait a little longer, until the new king granted them official pardons, before they could venture out in public, undisguised and without fear of being hunted. That process, however, would take some time.
Delita had implored them to be patient, and Ramza hoped his old friend would prove as good as his word. Until then, however, the small group kept their weapons close and remained on the alert in case the worst should happen.
And, if the worse did come to pass, those responsible would sorely regret it.
Arriving at the door, and still marveling that she hadn't tripped in the morass of fabric about her feet, Agrias slipped into the room she shared with Ramza. Shutting the door behind her, she settled herself comfortably on a sofa located near the window. Agrias adjusted her grip on Rachel and gratefully worked to free herself from the satin casket she had somehow crammed herself into. Unlike most gowns she had seen during her time in court, this simple dress had only two straps, which were held in place by a pair of metal fastenings designed to snap together. The elderly woman who'd woven the dress described it as a modern accouterment.
Given Agrias's previous experiences with modernity, such as Mustadio's infamous alarm clock, she'd been a bit wary.
Still, she supposed this was certainly better than the onerously ostentatious gowns typically worn by noble ladies. Being a minor noble herself, Agrias had been, forcibly, made to wear one in her younger years and she still had nightmares about those crosshatching laces that had to be tied untied one by one. However, when the holy knight found herself gritting her teeth as she blindly probed for the fastening with her free hand, she was left wondering whether this design was much of an improvement.
The strap soon came free with so loud a snap that she was almost afraid she'd broken it. Almost.
The loose strap soon found its way into Rachel's tiny hands and she brought the shiny metal up to her eyes, staring at it in wonderment.
"I've got half a mind to let you keep it," Agrias grumbled and she began to nurse the hungry infant. "Modernity, indeed."
As Rachel dropped the loose strap and began to suckle, Agrias gently massaged her tender breasts which, after having been crammed into the too-tight blouse for so long, were ablaze with red and showed signs of bruising. The holy knight could not keep a grimace from crossing her features as she surveyed these small disfigurements. She'd heard quite a few people describe her as attractive, though Ramza had been the only one who'd made her believe it, but those recollections had turned sour as she'd dealt with some of the less desirable changes to her body. Even before having given birth to Rachel, Agrias had noted with no small amount of displeasure how, whenever she'd donned her armor, a task which seemed to grow more arduous with each passing day, the exercise left her feeling like a two pound sausage in a one pound casing.
Despite Ramza's assurances to the contrary, Agrias was still convinced that being relieved of her precious cargo had not restored her once svelte proportions.
Yet, one glance at Rachel's luminous eyes was more than enough to silence such thoughts.
It was also enough to reinforce the irony of her sudden motherhood. During her time in the Lionsguard, the holy knight had met more than a few women amongst their ranks who were mothers. At first, she had responded to the notion with skepticism...at least, during her more polite moments. Otherwise, her opinions on the subject could be quite unflattering. After all, how could a woman sworn to the defense of the throne be able to fulfill her duties with such a distraction as children? And, what's more, the Lionsguard were also meant to look formidable enough to dissuade would-be foes of the royal family from even attempting to do any harm to those protected by the Lionguards's claws.
Women nearly bursting out of their armor from lingering pregnancy weight hardly fit that particular image.
Then, she had met Lady Beatrix.
Lady Beatrix was a Lionsguard knight with many years of service behind her. She was also married to a Touten knight by the name of Steiner and had, at last count, five children. She also fit Agrias's image of what a Lionsguard knight was supposed to look like about as well as Agrias fit into her newfound garb. She was certainly attractive with her well curved figure and comely face, despite the patch which covered the eye she'd lost in battle against the Romandan armies that had invaded Ivalice across the Rhana Strait. But, below the neck, years of childbearing had left their mark, lending her a matronly bulk that made her look, in the overly opinionated Agrias's mind, more akin to a bipedal cow than a hardened warrior.
In hindsight, the holy knight should have known that whispering such things behind the back of a superior officer would lead to trouble. And, sure enough, the older knight had caught wind of Agrias's opinions and, rather than reprimanding her, offered the holy knight the chance to test those assertions in the training yard.
Two minutes and two score bruises later, Agrias was suitably chastened.
But, it wasn't until she'd become a mother herself that she'd understood why.
Reis, who'd heard the story not long before Rachel's birth, had echoed the holy knight's understanding that, contrary to appearances, there were few things more ferocious than a mother protecting her young. In those same women the holy knight had once disdained, that same protective instinct readily transferred to the younger knights under their command and the royals under their wing. That, she realized with the benefit of hindsight, was why Beatrix was such an outstanding commander.
Much like Ramza, she cared about those she led into battle and, no less important, she never gave them an order she wasn't willing to carry out herself.
Agrias found herself hoping that, one day, she'd have the chance to meet Lady Beatrix again and tell her that, after being drubbed by the older knight and walking more than a few miles in her boots, she'd learned that lesson well.
Agrias was also grateful for Reis who, in addition to delivering her child, had also been generous enough to visit often and show her the ropes when it came to motherhood. As a child, it had always been Agrias's dream to become a knight. And, she'd pursued that dream with the relentless tenacity that had made her a legend amongst the Lionsguard and the obvious choice for the role of Princess Ovelia's chief protector. Even leaving aside the lesson she'd learned on the tip of Lady Beatrix's training sword, she never wanted to marry, let alone have a child. But now, especially after everything she and Ramza had been through, the holy knight was now all too aware of how much she might've missed if chance had not seen fit to drop a certain young Beoulve into her lap.
Maybe she would take up the sword again, or maybe not. But, either way, she now understood those wistful smiles that crossed the faces of those Lionsguard knights who had families waiting for them back home, and she now shared their unspoken wishes to live in peace with her daughter and her love.
Agrias was shaken back to attention when Rachel let out a small burp, usually a clear sign that she was done with her meal. Remembering the first time she tried to breastfeed Rachel, Agrias spent a moment gaping in amazement at how quickly the time had passed. When she'd first pried off her blouse she'd felt a bit awkward, not the smallest reason being that Reis had been watching with those unblinking, eerily perceptive eyes of hers. However, seeing the problem, the dragonkin had helped the holy knight to relax and get comfortable enough to feed the hungry child, allowing Rachel to have her fill much quicker than Agrias would have managed on her own.
After rocking the baby silently for a few moments, the holy knight heard a knock at her door.
"Agrias? Are you in there?" a soft female voice called out. "May I come in?"
"One moment, please!" Agrias called out in reply, conscious of her present state.
She managed to snatch up the loose strap before Rachel could begin playing with it again, but, though she strained and grunted, the strap stubbornly fell short of reuniting with its other half.
"Um, are you alright in there?" Alma asked, a hint of nervousness seeping into her tone.
"Yes, of course, Alma!" Agrias called back, though the strain in her voice likely contradicted her. "I'm just having some trouble with...oh, never mind. Please, come in."
Almost before Agrias had finished her sentence, she heard the door to her room slowly open and her love's younger sister entered. Though she'd looked concerned for a split second, the sight of Agrias struggling to cram herself back into her blouse soon caused Alma's worry to give way to mirth.
A two pound sausage, indeed! Agrias mused sourly, already plotting her revenge the next time she and Ramza met for a training duel.
Working to stifle her laughter and looking for all the world like a small girl slipping into the kitchen to steal sweets, and reminding Agrias more than a bit of her love's own youthful demeanor, Alma walked in as quietly as she could to avoid startling Rachel.
The Beoulve girl had been trying to keep a straight face at the sight of Agrias's predicament but, ultimately, the quivering upon her lip soon gave way to laughter. Agrias scowled for a moment but then, to her amazement, found herself joining in.
Perhaps it was the sheer ridiculousness of it all, she agonizing about a recalcitrant dress when she had a daughter to raise and a home to put in order, all the while hoping that no one outside their small group would learn of the supposed fugitives hiding in the castle. Maybe it was recalling what Alma had been through - being abducted by the Templar, losing her love, nearly having her very soul evicted from her body by a demon, and learning she was with child by the same man who'd breathed his last in her arms - and that the Beoulve girl deserved whatever joy she could find.
Or maybe, inexplicably, Agrias had found some amusement in this seeming indignity.
"Father Simon often said that the most simple things in life are the most vexing," Alma quipped in a terrible imitation of a sagely tone.
The holy knight had a rejoinder on the tip of her tongue but, when Alma took the troublesome strap and secured it, Agrias decided to let the quip slide.
After all, she could always repay that particular debt after Rachel's little cousin was born.
"How is she?" Alma asked as she took a seat beside the holy knight and leaned in to gaze at her tiny niece.
"She's doing well, thank you. As for me, I could use a bit more sleep," Agrias answered with a smile.
"Do you need any help?"
Agrias laughed softly as she continued gently rocking Rachel in her arms. "No, it's alright, Alma. I appreciate your offer, but this is something only I can do."
When these words caused the corners of Alma's lips to curve downwards, the holy knight placed a hand on the younger girl's shoulder and gave a reassuring smile.
"I know you want to help, and, like I said, I appreciate it. But, I have a hard enough time spending time with Rachel with Alicia and Lavian around. Besides, you shouldn't trouble yourself with me when you should be preparing for your own baby," she countered with a wink as her eyes drifted towards her friend's belly.
Alma blushed as she placed her hand over her belly. A distant expression came over her features as she contemplated her child, though Agrias knew from prior experience that such musing inevitably led to thoughts of the baby's father.
Agrias did not speak to Alma, for she doubted any words she had would lessen the pain Alma felt over Izlude's death. Besides, even after learning at least some of the story, her head was still spinning. During his quest, Ramza had crossed paths with a remarkable collection of characters, many of whom had joined the young Beoulve after having first met him on opposite sides of the battlefield. Malak had tried to blackmail Ramza and later kill him, but then joined his former enemy after learning of the depravity his sister had been subject to at the hands of the man Malak had once trusted most. Likewise, Meliadoul had tried to kill Ramza after having been duped into believing he had been Izlude's killer. She had very nearly lost her own life in her quest for vengeance, and one could only imagine her astonishment when Ramza used two valuable elixirs to save her. When she had seen Marquis Elmdor transform into a Lucavi demon, and realized that Ramza's outlandish tale of Izlude's fate was true, she joined her former foe.
Had Izlude lived, might he have joined Ramza's band as well? Agrias supposed there was little point in asking, but she didn't doubt for a moment that that same question was on Alma's mind every waking moment.
The holy knight feared that she had little to offer that would comfort the Beoulve girl. After all, for all the trials and tribulations she'd been through, she still had the father of her child at her side whereas all Alma had were a handful of memories...
...including holding the savaged body of the man she loved as he breathed his last.
Having little else to offer, Agrias sidled up to Alma and used her free arm to draw Alma into a hug. Such gestures only recently having worked their way past the holy knight's once stony exterior, the embrace felt strange to her. Not for the first time, Agrias found herself wishing that Meliadoul was still a member of their company. Izlude had been her brother and, perhaps, the shared grief of his loss would have given both women what Agrias herself could not. But, the divine knight had parted company with the group before Alma had even realized she was with child.
Having served the church all her life, only to see it and her father corrupted by demonkind and then losing her brother to the Lucavi, had left the woman with a deep crisis of faith as well as two gaping holes in her heart.
Would knowing that she had an unborn nephew or niece have been the light that guided her out of that darkness?
Unable to answer her own question, Agrias simply tightened her hold on the Beoulve girl, trying to let her firm embrace say that which her tongue did not know how to put into words. After a few minutes, a small babbling caught the attention of both women. They lowered their gaze to see Rachel flailing one chubby arm in the direction of Alma's belly.
"I think Rachel is eager to meet her cousin," the holy knight opined, glad for the opening.
Alma smiled, and this time the grin did not waver, as she stroked her belly once more.
"It almost doesn't seem real," she admitted. "Even after Reis told me, there are still days I look in the mirror and wonder if she might've been mistaken."
The holy knight could understand. Apart from remembering all too well the disbelief she'd felt when she realized she was with child, there was also how, at three and a half months into her pregnancy, Alma looked nothing like Agrias had. By then, the holy knight's pregnancy had become quite noticeable...
...to put it mildly.
By the time Agrias was three and a half months along, she could no longer see her feet when standing. Between that and the swelling of her ankles, getting in and out of her boots had transformed from a simple task to one that required two men tugging at each leg. Another slight to her knightly pride occurred when she'd reached the point where fitting into her armor without risk to her precious burden became impossible. She'd had to slip into a town where the hunt for the supposed heretic was a lax affair and hire an unscrupulous armorer to rectify the situation.
The disgusting little man's solution might've cost Agrias an arm and a leg, if a bout of hormonal rage induced sword swinging on her part hadn't nearly cost him an arm and a leg.
Still, Agrias had had to part with a fair bit of coin to get her armor modified, some more for the armor to be further modified so that it could still fit her even after having given birth, and still more for the armorer to forget he'd ever had the holy knight as a customer.
Unbecoming of a holy knight it might have been, but she'd passed that night praying he'd be afflicted with an acute case of dysentery.
Eight months into her pregnancy, by which time her slow, ponderous waddling had forced her to more-or-less become a fixture upon Boco's saddle, she had gotten into an argument with Ramza. She still had no recollection what their brief feud had been about, but she was quite certain that the sight of her belly pressing against him while the rest of her stood a foot away had incensed her far more than whatever Ramza had done.
Suffice to say, Agrias was feeling faintly incredulous that Alma had barely begun to show. In fact, unless one were to observe her closely, her pregnancy could easily be missed. Agrias had heard tell that some women started showing later than others, and there were even some rare cases of women carrying a pregnancy to term with almost no visible signs. Agrias had heard the twins mention this to Alma once or twice, but the Beoulve girl was sure she wasn't going to be one of those rare exceptions.
Agrias was shaken back to reality, however, when Alma wriggled free of her grasp.
"Sorry about that," she murmured, turning her gaze towards her hands which she wrung in her lap. "I've been...well, in a daze. With everything that's happened, and the baby on the way, it's as if I stay still long enough it will all..."
The remainder of Alma's words were left unsaid, but Agrias hardly needed to hear them. The holy knight remembered feeling adrift, just as Alma had, when Ovelia had left her and the church's machinations were exposed. In the blurred weeks of numbed pain and disbelief that had occurred between these events and her night of passion with Ramza, she'd thrown herself into even the most menial tasks in the hope of keeping her thoughts at bay, lest the wall she'd erected between her emotions and her new, strange reality come crashing down upon her.
This had staunched the wound, but it wasn't until she'd realized her love for Ramza and discovered the true depths of her friendship with the Murry twins that the wound had begun to heal.
As yet, however, Alma had only her brother. And, Ramza had his hands full. So, Agrias hoped what support she could offer would be enough.
"I understand," she said. "And, you've already been a great help, Alma. I appreciate you helping with Rachel's care so I can get a little more sleep at night. But, I don't want you to put too much strain on yourself; that wouldn't be good for you or your child."
"I won't, I promise." Alma said softly as she gently stroked Rachel's tiny head and gently ruffled the child's soft reddish, blond hair, so like her mother's. "And besides, after all the trouble you, Ramza and the others have gone through to rescue me, I figure that helping however I can is the least I can do."
"Well, like I said, don't overdo it. And, there's something you need to know about what you're going through; you're not alone. A lot of us are still reeling from...everything that's happened. Take me, for example. When I arrived to escort Princess Ovelia...I guess its Queen Ovelia now, do you think I had any idea what was going to happen when I arrived at Orbonne that night? I expected a simple escort mission, not to end up in the middle of a civil war. And, when I first laid eyes on your brother, I never would have believed that I'd be mothering a child with him. For good or ill, life is full of surprises."
The holy knight had been, admittedly, rambling her way to the point, but stopped short when she noticed a mischievous grin tug at the corners of Alma's mouth.
"I'll say," she quipped in a wicked tone, gazing down at Rachel. "I was very surprised when this little one didn't turn out to be a twin...or a triplet."
Alma accentuated the point by prodding Agrias's stomach which, much to the holy knight's chagrin, was quite a bit more yielding than it had been two and a half years prior.
"Oh, very funny, I'll be sure to remember that when you're eight months along and as big as a cow," Agrias grumbled, but then calmed herself. "But, to get to the point, you're not alone here. I may not know you as well as Ramza, and neither do Alicia or Lavian, but any one of use would be glad to lend an ear if you need someone to talk to."
Alma looked as though she might argue the point, but then she gave a slow nod.
"I appreciate that," the Beoulve girl finally said after a long pause. "And, so far, I really have been doing well. Reis has been a great help in getting me ready. After everything she's done for you and Rachel, I doubt I could be in better hands."
"She's been a great help to us both," Agrias agreed. "I don't know what I would have done without her. Anyway, isn't Reis coming to check up on you today?"
"Yes, she and Beowulf will be over for dinner as well. If you don't need anything of me, I better go help Lavian and Alicia with the cooking."
"Yes, I'll be just fine. Go on and help them, Alma. Or should I say, 'Catherine'?" Agrias teased as she reached out and touched the Beoulve girl's newly dyed hair.
Not long ago, Alma's flowing locks had been the distinctive blonde color that seemed to characterize so much of the Beoulve line. However, with Ramza having been branded a heretic and Alma largely believed to be dead, it would not do for someone to recognize those distinctive flaxen tresses. Thus, she'd taken the precaution of dying her hair a deep red, and the color had proven quite flattering to the Beoulve girl. The rich red accented her rosy complexion nicely, especially since her pregnancy had left her hair much lusher.
Alma laughed and brushed at her dyed hair almost self-consciously. Although she was fond of the name Delita had chosen as her pseudonym, she still preferred to be addressed by her true name when alone with her brother and friends.
"Please, I still prefer to be called 'Alma'," the Beoulve girl insisted. "And, I'm sure my brother would still prefer to be called by his real name as well. Those names are all we really have left of father and, despite what Delita says, I fear that might be all we'll ever have to remember him by."
"I understand," Agrias admitted, her heart aching at the backhanded reminder that, even if Ramza and Alma were ultimately vindicated, they likely would not live to see it. "But, both of you will need to get used to your new names to protect your identities. If someone calls out your "name", and you don't react, people might not think anything of it the first time. But, if it happens over and over, someone might start to wonder. And, that's especially true of a place like the capital. A newly inducted noble will attract a lot of attention, and even the smallest slips can end up being gossiped about for months."
"I understand, but I stand by what I said. When it is just us, I'd still like to be called 'Alma'."
"Just be ready to be 'Catherine' when we head to the capital next month. All this subterfuge aside, I'm sure Ovelia will be wanting to see you."
"She will be wanting to see you as well. And Rachel, too. I'm sure Delita must have told her about your new daughter by now."
The instant these well-meaning words escaped her lips, Alma seemed to realize that Ovelia's close friend and former protector might react badly to the mention of Delita's name.
After all, though Ramza and Alma believed Delita might be trustworthy, Agrias was far from convinced. Where the Beoulve siblings saw the man who had once been and might still be their friend, Agrias still saw the man who had abducted Ovelia from Orbonne and, from there, had lied, manipulated, and killed his way to the throne...
...not to mention into Ovelia's wedding bed.
The corners of Agrias's mouth drew downward at the thought. Even during the campaign against the Lucavi and their human puppets, her former charge had weighed heavily upon her mind. Between wondering where the then-princess was and how she might be faring and fearing what might befall her now that she'd been ensnared by Delita's web of deceit, not to mention the yawning chasm of guilt and recrimination that had opened in her heart at having failed twice to rescue her from Draclau, the holy knight suspected she'd nearly driven herself to madness.
Perhaps, if not for that fateful night in Ramza's arms, she might very well have fallen into that chasm, never to emerge again.
But, ultimately, Agrias had found her charge again.
During a stopover in Zeltennia, the group caught word that Ovelia tended to pray in an isolated ruin nearby. Agrias hurriedly threw on a voluminous cloak, summoned Alicia and Lavian, and sought out the young woman who Goltana - and, she suspected, Delita - sought to use as a figurehead in their bid for the throne.
Perhaps it had been the suddenness of this discovery, or maybe the effects of her pregnancy had left her judgment askew, but the holy knight was forced to admit that she'd had no particular plan for that venture. Even though she was well away from Goltana's stronghold, stealing Ovelia away would be far too dangerous with Delita always hovering over her shoulder. What's more, if Agrias were recognized as she made her way to the ruins, it could spell disaster, especially since her advancing pregnancy would preclude the possibility of fighting free or fleeing. Still, perhaps owing to the child stirring under her ribs, Agrias wanted, at least, for Ovelia to know that she was not forgotten and that, though they yet lurked in the shadows, her friends still lived and would come for her when they could.
However, their reunion was brief and did little more than rub salt into old wounds.
While escorting Ovelia to Lionel Castle, unwittingly spiriting her from the grasp of one captor into the hands of another, the holy knight had sensed that Ovelia, sequestered all her life in some remote corner of the realm or another, had been charmed by her handsome captor. And, when the two women had met again, Agrias regarded it as a troubling sign that Ovelia had waved aside the effrontery of Delita addressing her by name. Her charge's expression when she regarded the man who later became her husband, a curious mingling of affection and wariness, had caused the holy knight's heart to sink.
She'd wanted to run Delita through on the spot.
But, at seven months pregnant, she knew she'd be no match for Delita. And, though Alicia and Lavian had accompanied her, she'd doubted the twins could prevail against so powerful and wily a foe.
Thus, Agrias had had little choice but to trust that Delita would leave Ovelia unharmed until another chance came to spirit the princess away from her captors. She'd given him a dire warning of the consequences of harming Ovelia, which barely made the Black Ram lieutenant blink, and then offered the princess what little protection she could.
A dagger.
Against a depraved duke with thousands of swords at his beck and call, not to mention a man whose conniving wits made him the more dangerous enemy by far, all she could offer for protection was a sliver of iron.
Despite tireless effort on the part of Ramza and the Murry twins, the following night had been solemn and somber for the holy knight who had, once again, been cheated out of rescuing her charge. Worse than that, cheated out of saving a friend and seeing her being lured further and further into Delita's web of deceit and whatever manner of disaster lay in the offing.
Agrias had forgotten none of this, but she had the wherewithal to rein in her anger. She turned to face Alma, who looked quite abashed at her misstep, and the holy knight raised one hand in a conciliatory gesture.
"Alma," she began in a guarded tone, "since it's just us, what manner of man is Delita?"
The Beoulve girl's abashment promptly gave way to perplexity.
"Didn't Ramza tell you about him?" she asked, puzzled.
"He did, but I was wondering what you have to say about him," Agrias replied, once more seeking the elusive words she needed. "I know you and Ramza are willing to trust him, but, after everything he's done, I'm worried. And, not just about us or even Rachel, but about Ovelia too. So, tell me, what manner of man is he?"
Alma still looked taken aback by the request, and the less-than-subtle reminder that Delita might yet withdraw the protection he'd offered. Still, after a long, contemplative silence, the Beoulve girl finally spoke.
"Ramza and I loved Delita very much," she began, her eyes misting at the reminder of simpler times. "Ramza probably already told you how our father took in him and his sister, Teta, after their parents died of plague."
Agrias nodded, and Alma continued.
"Most of my memories of those days are of Teta. She was my best friend. Father liked her as well, and even used his influence to get her enrolled in the same school as me so we wouldn't have to be apart."
Here, Alma's nostalgic expression darkened with sadness and a rare hint of anger.
"But, even his influence wasn't enough to change the minds of some of the other girls," she continued. "They always teased her for being of low birth, day in and day out. And, not just behind her back either, but to her face whenever they were feeling bold enough. And, as if that wasn't enough, there were the teachers. They didn't believe Teta belonged there and they'd take even the smallest excuse to single her out for humiliation. But, she never once complained. Just the opposite, in fact. Even with all of that went on there, and all the pain it must've caused her, she kept her shoulders squared and her head held high."
As she'd relived those memories, Alma's already misting eyes had begun to brim with tears and she had to pause to tamp down what might've otherwise become a bout of weeping.
"I'm sorry," she said, her words punctuated by a sniffle. "I was just remembering when she...died. Even after all this time, it still hurts to think about it."
As if having Izlude's death on her mind at all hours wasn't enough, Agrias mused, furious at herself. This was a mistake. I should not have asked when she's still so fragile from...everything.
Almost as though sensing the holy knight's thoughts, Alma shook her head furiously and dove right back into her tale.
"Delita spent more time with Ramza than me, but Teta spoke of him often. After they lost their parents, before father took them in, he worked tirelessly to support her. For a long time, they were each other's whole world. Even after Delita become Ramza's best friend, and Teta mine, they were never apart for longer than they had to be. When she went with me to that school and Delita went with Ramza to the Gariland Royal Military Academy, they wrote each other every day. Ramza wrote to me too, about how Delita outworked all of his classmates and excelled in everything he tried. Everybody besides us and father seemed to hold it against him, but he always wrote that Teta's letters made him feel better."
Having been to academies like the one in Gariland, and knowing how much of an upset it must've been for a commoner to win a place amongst the elite ranks of Ivalice's men-at-arms, Agrias found herself impressed that a few letters could counterbalance all that scorn.
But, then again, Delita would not have claimed the bloodied crown if he'd had a thin skin.
Still, these stories did help Agrias to paint a more complete picture of Ovelia's new consort...though she would not consider him Ovelia's 'husband' until he'd earned that sentiment.
Regardless, she could tell that Delita was clearly a man with great drive, for he would have to be in order to even graduate from the academy, where his roots could be so readily used against him. And, from what she had been told of his relationship with Teta, his capacity for deceit and murder might not all-encompassing.
Delita had invoked Teta's name as his reason for fighting. He'd also intimated that she was how he'd managed to escape death at Fort Ziekden.
Did he consider her memory a fitting reason to, however surreptitiously, do right by his former friends and their companions?
Or, was her tragic death simply something he used as an excuse to justify the unscrupulous path he'd traced from an obscure farmstead in Gallione to the royal castle in Lesalia?
Loathe though she was to admit it, Agrias simply did not know. On the one hand, Delita's love for Teta might mean he would keep Ovelia and the small band of fugitives safe, both out of loyalty to his old friends and out of respect for his sister's memory. But, on the other hand, Goltana had thought Delita loyal and trustworthy right up until the Black Ram lieutenant had ran the old duke through.
"I still remember when Ramza and Delita returned home after graduating from the academy," Alma went on, shaking Agrias back to the present. "Even back then, Ramza hated fighting. He was good at it, but he always held back because he hated killing others, even an enemy."
Agrias nodded gravely, remembering her beloved confessing that much to her not long after she'd first seen that there was an outstanding warrior under that boyish frame and babyish face. The holy knight hadn't reveled in bloodshed either, but she'd long ago reconciled herself to the sad truth that duty and circumstance often conspired to deprive one of feasible alternatives.
More than once, she'd found herself wondering if Delita might be of a different persuasion. Taking another's life in battle was one thing, winning the trust of another and then killing them while they were unarmed and unsuspecting was quite another.
"Ramza barely scraped through graduation while Delita graduated with honors," Alma went on, a hint of a smile valiantly trying to take shape on her face. "I remember seeing them as they came through the castle gate. They didn't write about how they'd done, but I could tell the moment I saw them that the news was good because of this childhood tradition they had between them. They always carried with them this black chess king, from father's ivory set. They'd always pass back and forth between them whenever one of them won a victory. "King of the Moment", they called it."
Now, that half-formed smile did win dominance on Alma's face, though any mirth it might've held was lost in the battle.
"Seems ironic now, doesn't it?" she asked rhetorically. "But, I remember Ramza tossing it to Delita and saying "King's to you, Delita." I think Ramza wanted to do that sooner, not to mention say in his letters how well Delita had done, but Delita must've talked him into holding off until Teta could see. And, she was thrilled."
That particular tidbit had surprised Agrias, since Ramza had never mentioned it. But, now that she thought about it, she did recall one rather strange night during the pursuit of the kidnapped Ovelia. Ramza had, during his watch, fished something out of his pocket and spent long moments staring at it, almost entranced. Agrias hadn't bothered to ask what it was, but she now found herself wondering if it might've been the same chess king that Alma had spoken of.
Perhaps Ramza had won it back before that fateful day at Fort Ziekden and, upon seeing that his lost friend was still alive, found himself wondering what convoluted path fate had traced in separating and then reuniting them.
What's more, after having parted ways with Ovelia in Zeltennia, she'd noticed that Delita had been eyeing her intently and, as she'd made her way back towards the city, he'd followed her. Already suspecting that crossing paths with Delita would herald a confrontation, one hand was reaching for her sword while the other, guided more by instinct than thought, clutched her belly protectively.
Yet, strangely, Delita had made no move to attack.
Instead, he'd let out a chuckle that made the holy knight's skin crawl and whispered something which, upon reflection, might have been "King's to you, Ramza."
Still incensed by the Black Ram lieutenant's actions - indeed, by his very presence - Agrias had been too flustered to give much thought to his parting words. Now, however, she found herself beginning to wonder. Could he have, in that one glance, discerned that she was with child, and by whom? If so, and he'd managed to gauge just how far off she was from giving birth, it would explain how the newly crowned king had known Ramza had a newborn child and how he'd just "happened" to find the small band of fugitives during Rachel's first hours of life.
Then too, there was his choice of words. He spoke almost as if he'd been congratulating the absent Ramza, and in the same fashion he and Ramza had done in their youth, no less.
That fell far short of proving Delita could be trusted, but the barest sliver of doubt was now prodding at the back of Agrias's mind.
"Was giving the boys that chess king your father's idea?" she asked, though somewhat distractedly.
"Yes, but not in the way you think," Alma went on, redness suddenly gathering about her cheeks. "Back when we were still little, before Delita and Teta's parents had died, the rest of the set got ruined. He kept the black king, since it was the only intact piece, probably because the set had been a gift from Count Orlandu."
"The rest of the set was ruined? What happened to it?"
"I did...I was teething."
The holy knight was left gaping for a long moment as she turned that image over in her head. Ultimately, she sensed an illicit quiver in her lower lip and felt a spasming in her larynx that, in due course, soon erupted into explosive laughter. Alma made a pretense of pouting before she joined in the hilarity. Once Agrias had wiped away enough mirthful tears to see, she could not help but notice that, though the Beoulve girl's guffawing had died down to breathless giggles, a smile yet lingered on her face.
It was a tired smile, more nostalgic than happy, but it was a smile nonetheless.
Yet, even that much was enough to make Alma look truly radiant. And, seeing that her efforts had pierced the gloom that had hung over the Beoulve girl since learning she was carrying her dead beloved's child had done much to gladden Agrias's heart.
After getting her breath, Alma continued with her story.
"Teta's death changed all of us," she said, her tone solemn but without the weight of grief held too long in abeyance. "Ramza lost his faith in Zalbag and Dycedarg, since they'd promised to save Teta and went back on their word. I was left alone, almost as alone as I felt when Izlude died. I missed Teta so much, I thought Delita had died with her, Ramza never came home, and I couldn't speak to my 'brothers' once I'd guessed what must've happened. As for Delita...I don't doubt for a minute that Teta's death changed him and I won't bother pretending I know what's going on in his head or what happened between him and Ovelia. But, I believe that he's sincere about wanting to help us. He could have handed us over to the church, or at least leaked rumors that we were alive so that the church would be too busy chasing us to interfere with his plans. Not only that, but he's had plenty of chances to turn you and Ramza in during the war. But, he hasn't done any of that."
Here, Alma paused for a moment and then looked Agrias square in the eye. Despite the redness and the profusion of tear tracks about her eyes, the holy knight saw iron determination in those sky blue orbs.
"I'm not saying I approve of what you and the others say that Delita has done," she prefaced. "But, I cannot bring myself to believe that he's the same as Larg, Goltana, Ruvelia, or Marcel. Maybe I'm right, maybe I'm wrong. But, he's still a friend, and I believe I can trust him."
For a long moment, Agrias was silent. When she'd first met Alma back in Lesalia, she would never have guessed that the cheerful headstrong girl who'd blackmailed Ramza into taking her along on his ill-fated hunt for the Virgo stone would be possessed of such strong conviction. But, then again, her brother had also surprised Agrias time and again, not the smallest way being how he had helped create the small treasure now squirming in her arms. What's more, as she'd coaxed out more and more stories of the Beoulve girl's time with Izlude, Agrias was forced to concede that Alma had shown a great deal of courage in her bold, if somewhat harebrained, scheme to win her freedom.
No less surprising, Alma's defense of Delita was quite spirited. She'd offered quite a few insights that helped Agrias paint a more complete picture of the man who held their futures in his hand, but without making excuses or rationalizations for his disreputable acts.
Whether the newly crowned king deserved such an advocate, however, still nagged at the holy knight. More than his wits or his strength of arms, his ability to charm would-be allies had likely been his greatest asset during his journey to the throne.
How many who would have spoken so vehemently in his defense later found his blade sheathed in their backs?
"Even if that means putting your child at risk?" Agrias asked, pointedly gesturing at Alma's belly.
The Beoulve girl winced at these blunt words, but, to her credit, did not shy away.
"What choice do we have?" she asked rhetorically. "Without our new identities, Ramza and I can't even go out in public without causing a riot. And, without those pardons, you and the others can't either. So, that leaves us with, what? Living on the run? Sneaking our way to Ordalia or Romanda and living in exile? Going to sleep each night wondering if we'll wake up in chains, or we'll even wake up at all? No. I'd rather take my chances with Delita than have my child live like that."
Here, Alma paused as she drew in a steadying breath and meditatively drummed her fingers over her belly.
"So much of what Teta went through, including her death, was because she was born the daughter of a poor farmer," she said, her tone never wavering despite revisiting such a painful subject. "I don't want my child to go through such hardship because his or her uncle just happened to be a convenient scapegoat for a bunch of corrupt nobles and clergymen."
Agrias, after a moment of silence, responded to this rejoinder by raising one hand in the gesture of a fencer acknowledging a hit. Once more, Alma's words - and, more importantly, the conviction behind them - had impressed her. The holy knight still had lingering doubts about the man who had professed to be the instrument of their salvation, especially since any duplicity on his part could put Ramza, Rachel, Ovelia, and the others in dire peril. But, hearing both surviving Beoulves vouch for their former friend, even after everything he'd done, had caused some of Ramza's contagious optimism to seep into her fears.
Agrias could not share Alma's convictions - at least, not yet - but, she could respect them.
Maybe the same luck that had seen her and her baby through countless battles and a journey into hell would still bear out Alma's claims. And, even if it didn't, the small band of fugitives was ready for such an eventuality.
"Delita's very lucky to have you and Ramza to vouch for him," she said at last, hoping the newly crowned king would not judge such gifts to be expendable. "I really hope you're right about him."
"So do I," Alma answered softly.
After a moment's hesitation, the Beoulve girl reached over and took Agrias's hand. The smooth skin, unmarred by calluses, felt almost foreign in the holy knight's grip. But, after a moment, Agrias found herself giving the smaller hand a comradely squeeze. A small gesture it might've been, but Agrias nonetheless found herself believing that their rambling talk had helped to remind the Beoulve girl that, despite the cruel hand fate had dealt her, she was not alone.
Maybe Agrias could not help Alma through her grief the way Meliadoul would have, but maybe what Agrias could do would be enough.
"I'm glad we had this talk," Alma said finally, a hint of a smile once more on her lips. "And, I know I don't know you nearly as well as Ramza or the twins, but I think my brother is in good hands. And, so is my niece."
"I'm glad I could help," Agrias replied, her gaze turning back to Rachel when she noticed the baby give a small yawn. "And, as I said, if you need someone to talk to, I'll be here."
"I'd appreciate that. And, I stand by what I said earlier. I'd be happy to help out with Rachel. After all, I'll be needing the practice."
"I know. Anyway, you should be running along now. I'll be in the kitchen to help as soon as I put Rachel to bed."
"Of course." Alma agreed as she got up and headed for the door. "See you then, Agrias."
"You too, Alma."
With that, the Beoulve girl gave one last appreciated glance at Agrias and then passed through the door, gently closing it behind her. By this time, Rachel had drifted off to sleep and, after gently pressing her lips to the baby's forehead, Agrias rose and made her way to the cradle. Once more, despite the morass of fabric dragging about her feet, she carried her tiny daughter across the expanse of stone and carpeting without incident and gently deposited the baby into the cradle. Agrias kissed the baby's forehead once more, pulled the blanket over her and then turned to make her way to the kitchen.
Then, as she took one step away from the cradle, she found the long dress finally slipping underfoot. With a sudden lurch, she went toppling to the floor.
Agrias landed in a heap upon the plush carpet with a muffled crash, though this was more than enough to rouse the baby from her nap.
Rather than a lung splitting wail, however, Rachel reacted to the spectacle by going into a fit of giggling.
Normally, Agrias would've found her heart melting at that sound. But, with both her knightly and mother's pride throbbing along with the rest of her, the holy knight found a scowl overtaking her features at the sound of Rachel's chortling.
"You got that from your father's side of the family, didn't you?" Agrias grumbled. "Well, I'll remember that when you're old enough to wear these blasted things."
A/N: Ok, now the party settles at Lionel as their permanent home. I got this idea from the fan-made sequel of FFT I saw on YouTube called 'Journey of the Five' which I highly recommend for FFT fans. Once again, I would like to thank my co-writer and editor, Falchion1984 for his help and inspiration in keeping this story going. :)
