Chapter 6: Two Weeks a Templar
Meliadoul led the charge as she was wont to do. Her sword stricken against Alfredo's own flat. The Beoulve would move in to draw attention and pressure away from the lady after. His performance had improved remarkably after a proper meal and rest and he quickly filled the blanks in the Tengilles' assault. With attention turned on these two, it gave the youngest time to soar through the sky and bring sword down from above.
It missed, as she was well aware, but his thrust after kept her on defensive and turned it swiftly into a three-way direct assault. Though she kept them all to her front (Isilud center, Melidoul right and Beoulve left), they pressed her more and more with each day and every second. Sword could only take so much from Meliadoul's timed swings and the formation was designed to take advantage of it.
With but a duo, she was always able to double down on a surprise attack and fight her way free or victory.
The third had stopped gap any previous flaws now.
So she would simply create them anew. Alfredo held shield forward, taking all the blows she expected and slid to the left while under its protection. Lining all three of her opponents. Before they could reform ranks, she bashed aside Ramza's strike and thrust his sword from hands.
Beoulve fell back as Meliadoul took center attention and covered her retreating ally.
Alfredo smirked, Isilud's coming strike was easy to see.
Suddenly being struck in the face was a force she did not see. She stumbled back in surprise as Meliadoul finished her task and battered away Alfredo's blade.
She knew Isilud's strike was coming but could not stop him from landing behind.
Shield alone was not enough to rebuke the Tengilles, especially whence another unseen blow struck her leg out.
Two dullard sword points rested at her throat.
"'Tis our win, instructor," Isilud said, with all the pride of any man would be at his first victory.
"Tomorrow's another day, students," she said and pushed away those tips. "One I'll recall Beoulve's martial arts." The blonde-haired lad stepped into view, hands still glowing from the effects of an aurablast. "Dismissed."
"Aye!" the three replied.
"I am well-timed then," Loffery's voice came behind and she turned to confront. "The grand master would see you this instant Alfredo."
"Then I shall greet him." 'Twas time for officer rotations, surely the reason for her summons.
"Do not get your hopes up," he dourly warned her.
Never was it good when he urged caution. "Another's been assigned to Gallionne then?"
"Those words are for the grand master to speak," he paused and glanced at the trainees. "And not in front of others."
Also did it concern them. Lack of surprise again. "I said dismissed, students! Or do crave tomorrow's lesson today?"
The three scampered off towards the barracks mess. She would beat the smiles and triumph for them come dawn, but for now let their boasts amongst the rank-and-file inflate.
She kicked her pace forward and hurried her way to the Grand Master's office. Being presentable and punctual was impossible, but she could wipe sweat from her skin and slick her honey hair back.
She knocked on the heavy oaken doors upon her arrival. "Alfredo Remeres, reporting as ordered, Lord."
"Enter," his muffled acceptance.
Aflredo pushed the door open and closed it behind, leaving her with the grand master alone. He worked at his desk, in the unbelievably simple office. What would his children and the Beoulve think when they first lay eyes on it? Surprise at how dull the office of one of the most powerful men in Ivalice was? Or admiration of the humble nature? Or what when they saw his grand office, lined with smoothest silks and glittering golds in the cathedral proper?
"At ease." Alfredo dropped her position. He looked up from the papers he worked on. "How fare their training?"
"They're comradery grows, as does their skill," she answered. "Beoulve skill-at-arms still exists, thinned by commoner though it is. His inclusion completes the both, and the trio's forced me to swordpoint."
"In two weeks?" he raised an eyebrow.
"I've yet to unsheathe my true sword, but yes all the same."
"Do avoid killing. Your evaluation, in-depth this time."
She nodded. "Meliadoul is her parents' child true. She's her mother's looks and her father's sword. She compensates a woman's arm with a keen mind. She's a divine knight through and through."
"Isilud?"
"A nightblade for sure, that one, with his constant hopping about."
"I'll see Claudino as his tutor then." He set aside two documents. "And Ramza?"
She bit her lip at them. "I've but two weeks experience with him and it is... not clear."
"Oh?" His interest vested, he leaned forward. "I thought he an ark knight like his brother and yourself."
"He fits it true, but more as well. Their victory today was brought by a sudden surprise of monkly arts derived from his fist."
"Not uncommon for a knight to learn a monk's skills to expand their repitoire. 'Twas your error that saw your lose, first and foremost."
She nodded again. "I aware my mistake, Lord. But it is not simply that he has a fair count of skills at his command."
"What then?"
How best to put her query? "'Tis more than just an expanded skillset that worries me. Two weeks past did his life tear asunder and yet now he fights Templar so easily? He bonds with your sired swiftly, takes command naturally and fights ferociously."
"A Beoulve true, born-so or not." The grand master leaned back. "Ser Zalbaag was much the same with you and Marquis Elmdore upon his training here, was he not?"
She ruffled at the names. "True we were steadfast, for what little time we shared, but I would not put Zalbaag's command in battle above your own, Lord."
"You mean to say mine own children trust a boy they treat with for but two weeks above their own father?"
"I misspeak, Lord, they would trust their lives to you above any Beoulve, even Barbaneth himself, but already does he act as leader and commander in our fights."
"Then you worry they'd trust him over the other Templars."
"Yes, Lord." It'd taken a month for Meliadoul and Isilud to take even the first steps to cooperation in their spars. Perhaps they'd simply learned cooperation on their own... But again, it'd taken some time for the two to begin acting in unison. With three she'd expected a great deal more difficulty, not to be on ground in a fortnight.
He gave a deep nod towards her concerns. "The specialized training should widen their perceptions of others then."
"You speak of Claudino, his return or does Isilud go to him?"
"He returns before month's end."
"Gallionne is free then?"
"Loffery goes to replace him."
Ill-luck that was! Her sword eager to clash with Zalbaag's blade once again.
"Then Meliadoul?"
"She'll apprentice under Linnett in Bervenia."
She paused. "Not under yourself?"
He narrowed his eyes of coal. "The Lions draw ever closer to war. Ivalice teeters on knife's edge. But a handful of the Zodiac Stones grace our protection. My time is rife with work unending. I cannot spare even an hour teaching others. Even for my own flesh and blood." A rare moment of sympathy flashed his face.
"I'll see her disappointment short then, Lord."
"Good. Cletienne returns on morrow's midday."
"Has he been successful?"
Another head shaken 'no'. "I go myself to seek. But Leo's light may elude us."
Curses. The Gods' love may be easy, but Their light was difficult to see in such trying times. Cardinal Delacroix's Scorpio, Loffrey's Capricorn and Cletienne's Gemini were but all the stones they had. What greater shame was there for the church to not hold the most sacred of artefacts in its possession?
"Should then we not send more Templars, Lord?" she asked. "
Lord Folmarv sighed. "Nay, the High Confessor has forbade as such. Her Majesty's bloody-handed executions grow out of hand and too many roving Templars would arouse the paranoid harpy's suspicions."
She could not help a stark laugh. "My apologies, Lord."
He waved concern aside. "Barich returns before week's end as well."
"Barich? Has the White Lions claws sunk into Lionel as well?"
"Nay, but he tires of toiling in Goug's machineworks."
"Oh? Shall he finally learn the sword then?" That 'gun' of his was too unchivalrous.
"Enough with your pettiness regarding him. His hands are nor more fit for blade's hilt than Cletienne."
"Cletienne also does not spend every waking hour swearing bloody vengeance on the nobility either."
"We are here to rid ourselves of rotted aristocracy."
"And shouting it from the rooftops as he has shall have them with executioner's ax to our necks erelong."
He gave due consideration to that outburst. "Such passion shows our cause just, but reckless passion shows us fools. I shall order his temperament calmed before I depart."
"And if he does not comply?"
"Make him."
She smiled. Thudding the braggart would be much-needed relief after missing Zalbaag. "What then of Palamedes, Lord?" The last officer unaccounted for in this conversation.
"His last missive indicates Baron Grimms continues to be mired in action with the Order of the Ebon Eye."
As the Corpse Brigade was to the Northern Sky, the Ebon Eye was to the Southern. That they survived past their eastern counterparts demise dragged Duke Goltanna's position through the mud.
"If their war of attrition continues, the Black Lion would be crushed beneath the Northern Sky. I go to assess the situation whilst I make my search."
"Such danger ser?" And such bias, after already did he warn her of the queen's wroth.
"Assess and nothing more. It may be this turns to our advantage if we make smart work of it."
Such was the wisdom of the Grand Master of the Knights Templar. "I have every faith in your success, Lord."
The cheers, japes and well-wishes of the full-mantled Templars fell upon the trio who'd bested the lucavi-of-an-instructor the second their first foot crossed into the mess.
A dozen conversations exploded with them and little could they do to keep up. But eventually banter died as hunger rose and the trio were left to ply their meals in peace.
Save them finally a moment of peace amongst themselves quickly filled with their own excitement.
"I daresay the honey in our meals will forever be less sweet than her face," said Isilud.
"Inscribe that memory well, dear brother," replied Meliadoul. "As she'll inscribe Judgement Blade upon us all whence."
"I thought her an ark knight?" Ramza asked. Her movements matched well with Lord Brother Zalbaag's own.
"You think her not capable of hiding another knight's skills?" Meliadoul posed the question.
Clever enough that Ramza turned thought to it. After his martial surprise she was certain to bring forth new techniques her own. "We ought offer another surprise our own then." He smiled.
"Monk's fist or something else?"
They'd a plethora of options. Spell? Sword? Blunt perhaps? "I'll give it due thought."
"We all shall," added Meliadoul.
Lunch continued thereafter, with but light discussion of their options. Once meals were settled, the three parted ways. Ramza to his own quarters and the Tengilles elsewhere. "A secret," they annoyingly said.
A surprise for him soon, for sure. Positive, he hoped.
Room retired to, he again paused in the unfamiliar surroundings. Even as he stayed night after night, it never felt right. Well-furnished it was, though beneath both Beoulve's Manse and the Military Akademy's best. Far cry above thin tent canvas.
Bed and trunk retained from his first-day quarters, but added by weapons rack, armor rack, dresser, desk, mirror and windows. Even a cabinet for drink (filled with only empty glass now after he'd sent it away). Twice in size it was, that after so much addition enough room was free to practice his sword's strikes or fists blows.
It was an officer's quarters and he was now dressed as such. Sky-blue tabard over the golden plated armor of the Templarate. Blonde hair freed from tied band and as clean he could make it. In the mirror 'twas hard to believe himself now, gilded as such. Northern Sky he sought for so long, Templar livery looked out of place in his mind's eye.
Yet it was true, and every night reminded him of such. Delita and Tietra's fates never left his nightmares. He'd just learned to manage it thinking of new improvements or speaking with the Tengilles.
It did not always help.
Sometimes he wondered how would Delita converse with them. Or Alma, or Tietra. How Fulke would earn their favor, or Glyda their admiration. Would they grow tired of Deitrich and Pelinne's fawning? Or embrace it like Stone did? Speaks of fathers fondly with Margarete?
Such thoughts ran as cold as Ziekden's snow. It would never happen now.
