I'm damned sure he's brought death here with him. I feel the cold touch of it on him.
-- Eugene O'Neill, "The Iceman Cometh"

Chapter Nine: Leisure and Crime

"Can I join you?"

Ovelia blinked and glanced up from her prayer. Teta Hyral stood a few paces away, hands folded at her waist, smiling, though the sun behind her made the shadowed expression hard to make out. Dark hair rippled in an errant breeze, and a few fallen leaves swirled about her ankles, drifting along the uneven stone floor of the church ruins.

Smiling in return, Ovelia sat back on her heels and scooted over, patting the ground at her side. "Of course. Sit down."

Teta did so, gathering her dress first. "I thought I'd find you here," she murmured as she settled into position.

Ovelia glanced back at the free-standing doorway, through which she could see a sea of waving golden grass and, farther on, the interior wall of the Zeltennia Castle courtyard, a solid construction of pale grey stone. "Yeah. I think it's the most tranquil place in the whole Castle."

Teta chuckled, ducking her head. "I agree. That's why I came here too."

"Is that a new dress?" Nodding the question at her friend, Ovelia tilted her head and waited.

"It is." Teta fingered one sleeve as she spoke. The garment was a step away from her usual plain fare; it was blue, for one thing, and rather thick, though the cut was close enough not to drown her figure. Scrolling silver embroidery climbed the sleeves and sides. "It's warm."

Ovelia quirked a smile. "I thought so. I'm a little jealous, since today's a little chillier than I was expecting."

"So bring a cloak next time."

She chuckled, poking at the tufts of grass growing between floor blocks. "I suppose I will."

Teta shifted, folding her legs and tucking the dress about to keep decent. "But really, was I interrupting you? If I was, you can say so."

"Oh, not at all. I was just praying, and I can do that whenever." And it's about all I can do, here. Lips thinned, Ovelia tugged a stalk of grass free from the ground before remembering to still her hands. "Teta?"

"Hmm?"

"What kind of...?" She trailed off, sighing, and tried again. "Is Delita really as... hard... of a man as he seems?" The breeze swirled again, toying with her unbound hair, bringing goosebumps to her arms.

Teta frowned at the ground for a moment before answering. "He's... maybe." Serious brown eyes glanced up to meet Ovelia's gaze. "He's very... driven, you know? He's trying to do something good, to make Ivalice a little more just, a little more stable. He just gets a little carried away sometimes. Tries the most effective solution to a problem, not necessarily the best one, if that makes sense."

"Yeah." Ovelia cleared a frown that had taken hold of her face. "He's sort of... instrumentalist."

"True." Teta frowned off past crumbling stone ruins as the breeze pushed long strands of dark hair around her face. "You know... if you wanted to help him with that, you could just... be there for him, really. Remind him that he's dealing with people, not numbers or chess pieces."

Ovelia lowered her gaze to the ground again, thinking. Be there for him? That's an ambiguous choice of words. "What do you mean? Specifically?"

Teta chuckled, a low sound almost lost to the breeze, and tucked drifting hair behind her ear. "My brother isn't crude enough to say anything about it, not outright, but I'm sure he has his eye on you."

"What? On me?" Blinking, Ovelia shot her friend a suspicious glance.

The other woman sighed. "To tell you the truth, I'm not even sure I should be talking about it, but... yes. Whenever he and I are alone together he asks me about you. Asks if you and I have talked, what we talked about, how you're doing. Stuff it doesn't seem like he needs to be concerned about, strictly speaking. He likes you, Ovelia."

"He... oh." Rolling lips between her teeth, Ovelia toyed with a stubborn blade of grass and thought. Is that true? He's never spoken to me about it. He barely speaks with me at all. "Teta, that seems... hard to believe." But what if it's true?

Her friend snickered. "See for yourself. Here he comes."

Glancing up sharply. Ovelia stared at Teta, then followed her gaze to where Delita was indeed striding in their direction, alone. He looked majestic as always, gold-armored, with a stately red cape whipping around his calves as the long grass made way for him. Dark hair, just a little wavy, lay brushed back from his face, lending him a rugged, almost windblown appearance. Or maybe he really was windblown; he was a man who moved so much, did so much, it seemed odd to find him alone in the middle of a courtyard. Forces of nature didn't wade through grass.

Swallowing past a throat gone suddenly dry, Ovelia ducked her head. Arranged her dress. Fan it out, just a splay of silk and... there. Perfect.

He arrived in short order, then swept a grand and flourishing bow. "Ladies." His voice was smooth as glass, deep as the sea. "How are my favorite women?"

Teta laughed, rising so she could deliver a playful backhanded slap to his shoulder. She could slap a force. Slap thunder in armor. "Flattery won't make up for being so busy you can never see us."

"Never? You wound me." Holding hands to his plated chest, Delita gave his head a slow shake.

She flashed him a grin. "I didn't think you could be wounded."

"Only by you, sister. No one else is worthy."

Letting her smile fade, Teta folded arms over her chest and arched a dark eyebrow. "So, have you come to sit with us? Or to whisk us away somewhere?"

Delita pursed his lips, glancing around, but nodded. "I can sit. It was clever of you to find a find a place where we can spot eavesdroppers before they're close enough to hear us."

With a roll of her eyes, Teta resumed her seat on on the weathered stones. "That's you, not us, Delita. Ovelia and I don't have any state secrets to discuss."

Dark eyes flickered towards Ovelia. "True. Highness, you seem quiet today. More quiet than usual."

"Oh!" She smiled up at him, then glanced back down to still the hands wringing in her lap. "Oh. Um... yes?" Another smile, this one uncertain.

He laughed, a delighted laugh, the sound of a good man watching children play, and her heart took to racing. "Suit yourself. Silence suits the wise, they say."

Wise? Is he mocking me, or is that a compliment? She giggled, then bit a lip. The wise shouldn't giggle.

"So, what did I interrupt?" Delita folded himself up on the ground, a smooth, liquid movement, easily reversible, like something a cat might do.

Teta snorted. "I asked Ovelia that just moments ago, and she says she was praying."

Again dark eyes, glittering with insight, slid in her direction. "Great. That way God trusts at least one of us."

"Delita!"

"Sorry." He adjusted his bejeweled scabbard, then leaned back on his hands and glanced from face to face. "Anything... new? Exciting? Teta, did you ever find that book from the library?"

"Oh. Actually, yeah. It took Master Alazar the better part of a week to find it, though, and I still haven't gotten to...."

Ovelia swallowed, listening to Teta with only half an ear as she devoted the rest of her attention to studying Delita out of the corners of her eyes. He sat just like a normal man might, leaning back, relaxed, squinting with one eye where the sun happened to be striking his face. That seemed odd, somehow, like he should be... lounging on a throne. A golden throne, carved with... lions? No, roses. Twirling a scepter, maybe, or swirling a goblet of wine so he could savor its heady aroma. Light from a thousand lamps would glitter off all the metal on his person, all the weapons and armor that complemented his natural strength, his forcefulness. There ought to be dancers in front of him as well, talented girls wearing... no, no dancers. Only Ovelia, on the throne next to him, laying a hand on his arm as she related charming some story of what the children had just....

No! God, what am I doing? Swallowing again, she stared at her lap, hoping the burn in her cheeks wasn't visible to the others. His eyes were on her now, though, watching, studying. She could feel them on her person, like... hands. Rough, strong hands, propelling her down, onto a mattress of feathers and white dreams, hands that could rip....

No. God damn it. Scowling now at her lap, Ovelia bit her lip, hard, trusting the pain to snap her back to the moment. A deep breath served to address but not dispel the tingling in her fluttering heart. Pausing until she could keep her features under some measure of control, she gave her head a toss and glanced back up to catch the end of the conversation.

"...almost a whole day to get it down from there," Teta was saying. "And then most of the next day just to clean up the mess. I still don't even know where it came from."

Delita shook his head. "Amazing."

Teta shook in a silent chuckle, brushing a dead leaf from her dress. "That's what I said."

Smiling, Delita turned his gaze to Ovelia. "What about you? You must have some tale of the things I've missed while cooped up in meetings with officers."

"I'm not th... you...." Taking a deep breath, Ovelia forced herself to meet his gaze, to swim against the current radiating from his heart, the sheer force of his personality. "Delita, what... what are you doing?"

He blinked. "Doing?"

"Yes." Her hands twitched but she stilled them. "What are you up to? Your plans?"

He hesitated, dark eyes flickering towards Teta, who nodded. Then he nodded as well, leaning abruptly forward. "Okay, here's what's happening. The High Priest's plan calls for the Hokuten and Nanten armies to slaughter each other in one big battle. Each side's leaders are to be assassinated at the same time, Larg and Dycedarg, Goltana and Orlandu. Zalbag. Me." He grinned, a flash of white teeth. "Then, the Church will step into the rubble as the only remaining power, to act as a 'mediator' between the two beleaguered armies. The remaining leaders will have no choice but to agree to whatever Funeral proposes... which will, of course, be a plan which puts the Church in charge. So, Funeral wins, everybody else loses."

She frowned, opening her mouth, then paused, uncertain where to start. "Then... what's really going to happen, then?"

He smiled again, a smile just for her. "Same thing. Only I'm not going to die."

"Oh!" She ducked her head, adjusting the hem of her dress. "That's good." Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat.

"Ovelia, listen to me," he continued, speaking more quietly now. Two fingers alighted on her knee, and she jumped, but he just kept talking. "I'll still be alive, so we'll be strong. Strong enough to put you on the throne for real, since no one will be left to oppose you, and the Church doesn't have the sheer number of troops it would take to stop us. That's why Funeral needs the treaty he wants, because he can't just take anything by himself. This way that won't happen. You'll be Ivalice's Queen in... I'd say six months. Maybe less."

"That's...." She drew a deep breath, unable to look away; it took everything she had to force out a few words of disagreement. "That's... too much bloodshed."

"Maybe." The smile was gone now, but his eyes remained just as intent. If her objection had upset him, he gave no sign of it. "But at this point we don't have a choice. The forces involved are far too large for one person to stop now, so quickly, so the battle is just going to happen. The best we can hope for is to plan around it, to take it into account and use it, so that there only has to be one."

Ovelia offered a slow nod. That makes sense. He's probably right. "How can I help?" I probably can't, again. There's not much I can do, I suppose.

"Help?" He pursed his lips, staring off at something in the distance. "Help. Well, tell you what. Do you know Cidolfas Orlandu?"

"Orlandu? I met him when I was a little girl, I think."

He nodded. "Good. When we're at Bethla -- that's where the battle is going to be -- you can find him in his cell. He'll be imprisoned at the time. Find him and convince him that he needs to escape and disappear. If the Church types find him, they'll kill him. I have another plan that will throw them off his trail, but he still needs to be gone. Can you do that?"

"Yes." She threw him what she hoped would be a confident smile. "I can do that."


After a quick and efficient scuffle with port guards at the Murond docks, the ship voyage to Dorter proved disappointingly mundane. Ramza spent most of it dangling his legs over the edge, squinting off over the sun-kissed waves, ignoring entreaties to conversation from Jasmine, Lavian and Agrias. Alicia spent a few hours sitting silently with him and delivering the occasional punch to his shoulder or ribs, while the men had the grace to leave him alone.

In the first hours after boarding, he'd expressed his desire to take a leisurely pace, which had surprised the others at first. But with Barinten on pilgrimage in Murond, there was simply no telling when he'd be back in Riovanes; beating him there only to wait for him to show up afterwards wasn't a situation that appealed to anyone. Ironically, the ship to Dorter, the only one available when they'd left, would doubtless prove faster than one bound for Gariland.

Two days. Two days of solitude with his thoughts. Two days of Agrias bitching at him to get out of the sun or risk sunburn, and two days of his snappish retorts.

When he finally stepped onto the pier in Dorter, it was early evening. Clear sky, stars in the violet east and a fiery orange in the west. A handful of bare-chested crewmen hurried around, tying ropes from the ship to the pier, and he strode through them without so much as a glance. The rest of his companions fell in beside or behind him, all silent but for Lavian as she tried to pry conversation out of a stoic Knox.

Halfway to the inn, his right knee buckled. He staggered but caught himself with a grimace.

Agrias caught him too, with a shoulder into his chest and an arm around his back. "You okay?" she murmured, peering sideways up at him, her pale face just inches from his own. A lock of golden hair lay almost obscuring one eye, having fallen there during her lunge to catch him. She had freckles, apparently. The others, behind them, had shuffled to a halt in the street.

He pushed her away, then gave his shoulders an irritated roll. "I'm fine."

Blue eyes narrowed in clear suspicion but she nodded. "You keep saying that," she noted, starting down the street again, "but that's the second time I've seen you stumble since we left Murond."

"The first time was on the ship," he pointed out in a mutter. She was right, though. After his experience in the darkness under the temple, his joints just... didn't always work right. The healing had largely fixed things, and there was no pain, but every now and then, if he wasn't paying attention, one would give out. The fight to escape the city had gone perfectly, though; the weakness only struck at mundane moments. Climbing stairs, walking down a street.

She sighed. "Ramza... who do you think you're--"

"Just drop it."

"Fine. Whatever." She sighed again, a tight, irritated sound, and her posture stiffened; she was stalking, now, rather than walking.

He shook his head as they angled onto a wide cross street under a purpling sky. They still didn't know what had happened, and he intended to keep it that way. Not out of shame so much as a desire to spare them pain; if they knew, he'd have to reject their sympathy, and that would hurt them. This way everyone was happier.

No one spoke further on the way to the inn. On arriving there, he stowed his gear in an empty room before Agrias even finished paying for them, then claimed a seat at an unused table in one corner of the half-full common room. A buzz of low conversation filled the place, punctuated by spoons clicking against soup bowls or the occasional bout of laughter. Ramza stared at the tabletop and waited.

The others filed in shortly enough, crowding together to fit around the table, which was probably intended to seat five or six at most. Vector squeezed in on his left, while Alicia dragged a chair over to his right. Lavian ordered a round of ale and everyone, even Agrias, drank, except for Ramza who let his mug go untouched until Jasmine leaned over the table to swipe it.

"You know," began Lavian, thumbing her chin, "I sort of like this whole 'not hurrying' thing. Gives us more time to enjoy the scenery." Beside her, Knox lifted his eyebrows but said nothing, instead just sipping from his mug.

"The scenery?" Jasmine's smile was both crooked and sharp. "You mean common rooms? Or just Knox, there?"

Lavian gave her head a toss and fixed the other woman with a level blue-eyed stare. "I take enjoyment wherever I happen to find it."

Jasmine's smile widened. "I'm sure."

"You know what would be better than hearing you two bitch?" Alicia leaned back in her creaky chair, mug in one fist, bumping shoulders with Ramza. "We should find somewhere to dance."

"What?" Vector's head jerked up to stare at the redhead, wide-eyed. "You dance?"

Alicia bared her teeth at him. "I'm human too, you scrawny jerk. But to answer your question, no. I meant the rest of you could dance, while Iceman and I sit in the corner and watch how stupid you all look. Everybody wins."

Agrias snorted into her mug. "You're a fine one to call someone else scrawny."

"Stuff it, Agrias. Not everyone can look like a statue."

The Holy Knight shook her head. "I guess if people want to dance, I'll go too."

Lavian and Knox exchanged glances, then both nodded. "We'll come," answered Knox.

Vector cleared his throat and grinned. "I wouldn't say no to a night on the town. I can get new... supplies."

Agrias rolled her eyes. "I don't even want to know." Pausing, she shot Ramza a sideways glance. "Are you coming?"

He poked at the worn tabletop without meeting her gaze, and finally shrugged. "No. I'll just go to bed."

"That's because you're a jerk too," declared Alicia, pushing herself from the table. "We'll see you tomorrow morning, or in hell. Whichever comes first."

"Right." As the others rose and made their way to the common room door, in search of an establishment with music, Ramza edged along the edge of the room towards the stairs, then ascended on heavy legs. Once into the silent darkness of the bedroom he flopped onto his bed, threw an arm over his eyes, and waited.

The next day found everyone else alert as ever; it seemed they hadn't stayed out too late. Ramza quickly put the previous night out of his mind and concentrated on traveling, on avoiding the gazes of the gate guards, on keeping his eyes peeled for potential enemies hidden behind trees or hilltops. Any brigands or bounty hunters thinking they could surprise a weary man would find themselves mistaken.

Around midday, grassy rolling hills gave way to sandy rolling hills. Stunted bushes grew from the barren soil, but little else did, and from time to time they climbed through shallow cracks in the ground, perhaps dried-up riverbeds. Zeklaus Desert was an empty place, a place devoid of all but the most trivial life and activity. It suited him.

Hours later their path carried them past the old rat cellar where he'd once fought the Death Corps. Amber afternoon sunlight glowed blindingly on its pale surface, crumbling stone scraped bone-clean by the elements and the years. Agrias slowed as they approached, then pulled down the scarf covering her nose and mouth against the blowing sand. "We may as well camp here, right?"

Ramza shuffled to a halt a few paces past her, then turned around, frowning. "Why?"

Clear blue eyes flickered his way. "It'll be dark in a few hours, and I'm tired of camping at that little ridge we usually stop at, farther north. We're not in a rush, remember?"

He stared at her for a moment, then at the roofless shelter. "Yeah, I suppose." Tugging his dustcloak tighter around his shoulders, he ducked against the stinging wind and angled towards the structure's open doorway. The others followed.

After settling into the sparse space inside, he found a corner and sat in it, letting his eyes drift shut and his head loll back against the stone wall. Sunlight through the doorway painted warm blurs on his closed eyelids as he huddled closer into himself, hugging knees to his chest. The others left him alone, chatting and laughing as they waited out the daylight hours.

Much later, after a dinner of dried rations and hard bread, he sat with Agrias and Alicia atop the crumbling walls of the nest. Bars of clear moonlight left lumpy shadows of their forms on the sand below, etched the rest of the world into silver and black. The wind had died down at nightfall, leaving the desert cold and motionless as the grave.

"You know," muttered Alicia beside him, "we could actually stay here a day or two."

He cut his eyes towards her without turning his head, then returned his attention to the empty terrain. "Why?"

"Bandits stay here a lot, right?" she reasoned. "At least, we're always fighting them around here when we travel through. So I thought it would be fun to hang around for a bit and butcher any groups of highwaymen that might try to camp here. We'd probably clean up this trade route, at least for a few days."

"That's not a bad idea," murmured Agrias. "I think we should have enough food and water to last a few days. If you don't mind, Ramza."

He shrugged, folding his legs under him. A few chips of weathered stone fluttered silently groundward with the motion. "Sure. After that, I think I want to go to Lesalia."

"What?" Agrias half-turned to face him, a collection of cool moonlight and feminine shadows. "Why?"

He shrugged again. "Kill my brothers."

"Uh...." She hesitated, studying him sharply. "Why not just... talk to them, instead? See if they really are your enemies before you attack them?"

Ramza frowned, then waved a dismissive hand. "Alright, fine."

"Don't be a dumbass," sighed Alicia, resting her chin on her knees. "You can't attack your own family."

"Why not?"

"Well, you...." She trailed off, then grunted. "Well, first of all, there's still a bounty on your head. If you show up at Lesalia Castle asking to speak to your brothers, the guards there'll just take you and hand you over to the Church."

He made a face. "I doubt it."

"How the hell can you know? You don't--"

"Look," he interrupted. "Larg and my brothers run the place. If they haven't been trying to kill me, they'll at least let me talk to them. There's no way a group of soldiers would try to claim the bounty without getting permission from Zalbag, at least."

Silence answered him. Somewhere in the distant night, a hunting bird's lonely howl echoed.

Eventually Alicia sighed again. "I suppose you're right," she whispered.

Nobody said anything further. When his skin started pebbling in the chill night, he climbed down and sought his blankets.

Two days -- and three fights with brigand bands -- later, they left the rat cellar behind and continued northward. Goland proved uneventful, apart from being a place to buy more food, and after less than an hour in the city they were already out of it, on the road again.

Lesalia, he found, was everything he'd heard about it. Grand, opulent, prosperous. A little pretentious. Armed to the teeth, too, with Hokuten soldiers filling the cobblestone streets to bursting.

Agrias insisted she stay out of sight, at an inn, so he left the girls and Vector with her, taking only Knox to the castle proper. The towering knight said nothing as they strolled through the streets under lumpy grey clouds threatening rain, and Ramza guarded his tongue as well. True to his prediction, the guards at the gate gaped at the sight of him, but made no move to apprehend him.

In less than ten minutes he was ushered alone to Zalbag's study. A stately but cozy space, it stood just big enough to contain a desk, a few shelves full of old books, and a handful of banners Zalbag had claimed from fallen enemies during the Fifty Year War.

"Ramza," he greeted without looking up from the journal he was writing in. "I'm surprised to see you here. What is it?"

Ramza clenched his teeth, glancing around the room. Nice place. So this is how they reward you for letting your sister die? "Where's Dycedarg?"

"Busy." A lion-carved brass pen whispered across rich paper, leaving a trail of glistening calligraphy. "Why?"

Ramza took a step closer to the table, into the ring of warm light issuing from the lamp on his brother's desk. "You let Alma die."

Zalbag's pen paused. Then he glanced up, golden eyebrows drawn together into a high-minded scowl. "What? What are you talking about?"

"You heard me. I said you let her die."

The other man sighed. "That was almost two years ago, and--"

"A year and a half."

"--and you still haven't gotten over it? She fell, Ramza." Zalbag's dark eyes bored angrily into him. "She fell. It was an accident."

"Because you had Algus shoot at somebody standing right next to her," added Ramza with a slow nod. "And then when she fell, you didn't even check on her."

Zalbag shook his head, pausing to set his pen aside before answering. "The Death Corps were closing on us there. I'm sure you know that. They weren't just some band of rabble I could leave to Algus, so I don't think you appreciate how busy I--"

"She was your sister."

"Half-sister. And it's not like I--"

"You didn't even come back afterwards. You just left."

"I was busy." A definite note of chill entered Zalbag's voice, and he leaned forward, planting hands on the mahogany desktop.

Ramza met his brother's hard stare for long moments, then gave his lips a distasteful twist. "Okay. You didn't care."

Zalbag's pointed chin-beard quivered as he fought visibly to control his temper. "How dare you accuse me of that?"

Ramza spread his hands. "Because it's true. You didn't care. You're no brother at all."

A fist slammed against wood, rattling and nearly toppling a vial of ink; the flame in the desk-lamp danced at the disturbance. "Get out! Get out of here, you half-blood brat! What the hell do you think you know?"

Without a word Ramza turned and made for the door, leaving his fuming brother behind. Strangely, he didn't feel particularly angry. Frustrated, yes, and a little strange at having to hate one of his own kind, but not angry. I was right. Zalbag could safely be added to the list in his head, the list of people on the wrong side of the moral line. People who could be fought or killed should the need arise. There's nothing in his armor but pomp and pride. I was right.


For a long time after Ramza left, Zalbag stared at the open doorway. Then, sighing, he slumped back into his chair and rubbed a shaking hand down his face. Alma had been a dear girl, and he'd wanted to remember her alive. Not as a half-frozen corpse. Ramza wasn't smart enough to walk away too, and look what it got him. He's dead inside. Not like Alma wanted that for him. Staying away, staying whole... it had been the right choice. People could grieve in different ways, couldn't they?

Expelling another tight sigh, he let his hand drop and stared at the open journal on his desk, but his eyes just roamed without seeing. Stupid Ramza. Thinks he's so... thinks he's wise enough to judge. What a dumbass.

Scowling again, he swiped his pen from the table and resumed writing. The pen bit deeper into the paper than before, even going so far as to tear the paper.


"Welcome back to Riovanes, sir! I hope your pilgrimage was--"

"Yes, yes, it was lovely." Barinten strode past Norton, his white-haired manservant, without so much as a glance. Once into his chambers he paused, eyes darting around, noting every detail. In the bedchamber, a bed as wide as it was long, with posts supporting a downward-facing mirror above. Sheer white curtains over the windows, allowing a diffuse glow to illuminate the room from the cloudy sky outside. In the antechamber, a set of four carved and gilded armchairs, each more ornamental than the last, for guests. In the study, his desk with all the drawers closed, locked, with the keys still weighing down his belt pouch. Everything was in place, it seemed. Nothing had been touched.

"Is there anything I can do for you, sir?"

He smiled, turning to Norton. "No, thank you. Actually... yes: send Rafa to me."

"Right away, sir." The older man bowed his way out of the suite, and the door clicked shut behind him.

Spinning on his heel, Barinten hurried to his study and unlocked the sliding cover over the surface of his desk. Then, claiming a seat on the cushioned armchair, he found stationery and set about penning a very brief letter.

Vormav,

I offer you formal invitation to dine with me at Riovanes. I am in possession of something you will no doubt find quite interesting, perhaps even shocking. I await your visit here at your earliest convenience.

Cordially,
Gelkanis Barinten

Grand Duke of Riovanes

Smiling to himself, he folded the thing into a careful square of creamy paper and dripped a circle of blue wax over the edge. As he rummaged through his drawers, looking for his official seal, the outer door opened and closed, making barely a whisper each time.

"Ah, Rafa," he called without looking up. "Come in here." There it is. Smiling, he pulled a heavy gold ring from the lowest drawer, then impressed its device upon the still-hot wax. Afterwards a stylized wolf stared back up at him, teeth bared and growling.

There was no sound, only the faintest impression of shifting air, of a change in the ambient castle noise. "What do you want?" came a low female voice.

Setting letter and seal both carefully aside, he turned to face his visitor. Honey-brown skin, with a woman's shapely curves wrapped carefully in white linen unbroken save by a waist-sash of vibrant turquoise. Eyes the color of oak, with hair to match, gazed at him without blinking from under a crimson headband enclosing hair and hood alike.

When she only stared back at him, he summoned a smile. "Malak should be arriving shortly in Lesalia, if he's not already there. Meet him there and help him kill Ramza Beoulve."

Not a flicker of emotion crossed Rafa's face. "The heretic?"

Barinten let his smile fade. "Yes, the heretic." This coldness of hers, this sullenness, was a new thing. She'd smiled often as a child, even as a young woman, all the way up until... about five weeks ago. But it had been a fair trade; her smile was nice, but the rest of her was so much nicer.

She nodded once, dark hair swaying forward from within the hood. "Is that all?"

"That's all."

Without a word she spun on her heel and stalked towards the door. She couldn't help but stalk; she just had that kind of natural grace. Barinten watched her hips until they'd disappeared, then retrieved the sealed letter from his desk and allowed himself a chuckle.


It was raining when she left the castle. Rain. She'd never cared for it, particularly, preferring the sun and dusty heat, but now she found it refreshing. A welcome change, a bath of water to quench the red-hot blade of her tension. Tension she wouldn't have to carry much longer.

Drawing rein just before the city's outer gates, she turned in her saddle and peered through a hazy curtain of rainfall towards Riovanes Castle. From here it was a mere blocky shadow, fuzzed and haloed by the intervening precipitation, but she peeled lips back from her teeth to stare at it anyway. I'm never coming back here. Never. Unless it's to kill you.

After a moment Rafa tugged the hood of her cloak lower over her face, then heeled her chocobo back into motion. Grumbling thunder rode at her heels, chasing her out of Riovanes.


Agrias planted her boot against the skull of a kneeling bandit, then yanked her blade free from it. The man dropped limply to the ground, but she was already spinning around, pausing to survey the rest of the battle.

Only it seemed to be over. Mostly. Ramza, as usual, was sprawled face-down on the ground, covered in his own blood and surrounded by enemy corpses. Another brigand nearby was merely empty smoking clothes, courtesy of Jasmine's Holy, and most of the others had already fallen, save for one limping archer desperately fending off attacks from both Knox and Alicia.

Exhaling in relief, Agrias turned and hurried through a steady drizzle to where Ramza lay motionless among tall leafy grass and yellow wildflowers. A gurgling cry somewhere behind her announced the last man dying as she dropped to her knees next to her friend. Closing her eyes, she set her sword aside, rested open palms on his back, and willed his tired heart to beat again.

Ramza stiffened, then curled into a coughing ball. Blood-spattered hands fumbled briefly for purchase on the ground before closing around long stalks of grass, and then he held them tightly, shiveringly, as he drew several long, steadying breaths. Only then did he lift his face from the blood to squint up at Agrias.

She thinned her lips and held a hand down to him. "Morning."

He stared at her for long moments before sighing, glancing down at the state of his torn and mud-soaked clothes. Wet golden bangs flopped over his face, nearly concealing his eyes. "Hey."

"You gonna get up?"

"Yeah." Swallowing, he threw a hand into hers.

As Agrias helped him to his feet, she frowned. Something seemed... different. "Ramza, you've lost weight."

"Oh?" Once standing, he rubbed a shaking hand over his face, replacing some of the mud with blood, and stared around the terraced Grog Hill at their companions looting the dead.

"Like, a lot of weight." Chewing a lip, she studied him sideways. The changes must have been gradual, to accumulate without her noticing them, but now the obvious jumped out at her. The plain earth-toned breeches he often wore had always seemed a little loose on him, but now they looked downright baggy, and likely would have sagged had his belt not been pulled so tight. His shirt, of plain blue cloth, lay slicked to his chest, looking more like a sodden banner wrapped around wooden poles than a garment on somebody's torso. Even his face looked different, a little more angular, more lean. On the whole, he'd passed through slim but hadn't quite reached gaunt. Skinny, then. "Seriously, are you okay? Are you sick or something?" Shuffling forward, she reached a hand towards his forehead.

He grimaced, batting her arm away. "Oh, for.... Agrias, I'm fine. I'm not sick."

"Fine," she sighed, letting her hand drop. Even if he was, he wouldn't admit it anyway. "I won't bring it up again unless it gets in our way, but... could you maybe... make an effort to eat a little more?" As he scowled at her, prepared to argue, she held up a hand and spoke before he could. Have to explain it in his terms. "I know you don't care, but do it for everyone else's sake. At the least, if you look healthier, you won't have to deal with people always asking how well you are."

His scowl faded to a wary frown, but after a moment he nodded. "Yeah, I suppose."

"Okay, thank you." She shook her head, then gestured at one of the three crystals rotating in the grass around the pair of them. "Grab one. You look like hell."

As he squatted to do so, Agrias suppressed a sigh. He's been off since Murond. What the hell happened there? They must have mistreated him, as we'd feared. Not like he'd answer if I asked, though.

Once his injuries were erased, he stood up and greeted with a nod the approaching Jasmine. "How's everyone else?"

"Totally fine. You want to keep moving or camp here?"

He paused, glancing at others more distant, at Alicia and Vector slapping mud from their clothes. "We move. Riovanes is... how far, again?"

"Three days, on foot." Agrias brushed wet hair from her face. "Yardow's the only sizable city between here and there."

"Right." His bronze eyes slid north and west, past the rough peak of the hill, following the road to Yardow. "Let's go. Not like Barinten's going to question and murder himself, is it?"


Rafa stepped out from behind her rock and watched as the odd party hurried off along the road, most huddling against the chill drizzle. His face was different than she'd been expecting, more blank and stony than the grinning mask of evil on all the bounty posters, but she'd had no trouble recognizing Ramza Beoulve. That's him? The guy everyone wants to kill? He looks like... a dying beggar. But fights like a madman.

Rain pattered into mud, clicked against worn stone, as she stared after the group. Seven people. More than she'd been expecting. Even if she'd been planning to obey the Grand Duke, she wouldn't have had a chance in open combat, not outnumbered so badly. And why are they going that way? Towards Yardow? They were supposed to be staying in Lesalia.

Rubbing thumbs against forefingers, she turned and gazed in thoughtful curiosity back east, towards Lesalia. Malak was in that direction. Moving, coming closer; she could feel him. Was he following this Ramza? He must be.

Without further hesitation she turned and strolled back to where she'd tied Hien to a maple sapling a half-hour past. The bird stood huddled under the sparse leaves, pecking idly at the ground in hopes of finding food. At her approach he glanced up, blinking wide eyes, and she ruffled his golden neck feathers as she untied and mounted him.

The road carried her swiftly eastward. Rain pelted her face, slid down her neck.

She found Malak mere hours later, at a bend in the road next to a grove of wild apple trees. He looked intent as ever, dark brows drawn together in scowling concentration as he snapped Ortia's reins for more speed. The others had apparently found him as well, the ninjas and summoners, for they rode fanned out behind him, all bent over the necks of their feathered mounts.

Rafa drew to a halt a hundred paces away. Malak slowed to a walk, then met her face-to-face from two paces away.

"Grand Duke sent you?" he guessed, brushing rainwater from his face.

She nodded.

"To kill Ramza Beoulve?"

Another nod.

"Did you pass him heading the other direction?"

"I did."

"Good. Let's go." Snapping his reins, he dug heels into Ortia's flanks and bolted into motion.

Rafa turned around and sped to catch up, while the others fell in a few bird lengths behind, along the road. "Is he the guy you captured in Murond?"

"Yes."

Her lips tightened. "So why is he here? Did you lose him?"

Malak expelled an angry sigh. "No, the Church did. They were torturing him, but he escaped."

"Escaped?" Surprise widened her eyes, but she kept them trained straight ahead, on the mud-slicked road winding between rocks and trees. "He escaped from under the temple?"

Her brother grunted. "Not exactly. Wiegraf released him so they could fight, only Ramza killed him and forced a priest to help him out."

"He fought... wait, Wiegraf? Wiegraf Folles?" Her fists tightened on Hien's reins. "After being under the question? And won?"

"Wiegraf screwed up," dismissed Malak, "but yes."

"Then how were you able to capture him in the first place?"

Malak didn't answer. Seven pairs of chocobo claws squelched onward in the mud.

Rafa found herself thinking. Considering her options. A man who'd fought and killed one of the most dangerous men in Ivalice after what must have been days of torture, who'd broken out of confinement and headed to Lesalia only to... Wait. "Malak, why's he going to Yardow?"

"Dunno. Grand Duke didn't tell me anything."

She frowned. After leaving Murond, the first thing the Beoulve had done was head to Lesalia, only he'd taken his time, traveling for some three weeks or more before he'd reached it. What's in Lesalia? The Queen? No, she'd have had him killed. Larg is... no. Dycedarg. His brothers. To Lesalia, to speak with one or both of his brothers, and then to Yardow? Or Riovanes? Does he want something with Barinten? It's not an official visit, or one of the other brothers would have come instead, so what could he...?

She blinked, then swallowed. Barinten had been in Murond when Ramza had. Had in fact arranged his capture. Did he know? He must. He's going there to settle a score.

Her eyes slid sideways, to where her brother rode in preoccupied silence. Short dark hair lay slicked against his forehead, but he didn't appear to notice.

Rafa cut her eyes back to the road ahead, let her heart thump a few more times before speaking. "Hey."

"Hmm."

"We don't have to do it, you know."

"Don't be a moron."

"Think a--" Cutting herself off, she gazed sideways but managed not to turn around to glance at the soldiers. Angling her chocobo closer to Malak's, she spoke in a lower voice. "Think about it. Our village burned mere days after he addressed the elders. After they refused him. Then he found us among the refugees, and--"

"You shut up!" hissed Malak, twisting to glare at her. "He didn't have to raise us, but he did! Took us in, fed us, taught us things!"

"Taught us to kill," she corrected in a mutter, tugging her raincloak closer about her chest. "Don't most children adopted by nobles get an education? They learn about things, about philosophy and statecraft and history. All we learned was how to use our abilities as weapons."

"And that's not good enough for you?" he growled, dark eyes glaring daggers at her. "You want to turn on the only man who's ever shown us kindness?"

"Kindness?" The word twisted her lips, left the taste of ashes in her mouth. Letting her eyes drift shut, she took a slow breath, resolving herself to speak of a matter that had resulted only in a shouting match when she'd brought up once before. "I told you what happened. What he did." The pain was gone now, the discomfort, but not the shame. Not the fear, the shivering hatred.

Malak shifted in his saddle. "You... I told you there's no way he... just shut up, okay? Just shut up about it. I need to think."

Rafa shook her head. He didn't want to believe it.

Their ride elapsed in silence after that. Mounted, they approached and even overtook Ramza Beoulve and his friends along the road. The others kept hiking, faces down against the rain, barely acknowledging Rafa and her companions as they passed. She watched them, though, even twisted around in her saddle to stare back at them until rain and distance hid them. An idea had drifted to the forefront of her thoughts. A plan.

It was several hours before nightfall when they reached the gate of Yardow. Malak issued curt orders to the soldiers just inside the wall, arranging for their chocobos to be whisked away, for men on the towers to watch out for Ramza and his gang. Then he stood cross-armed just inside the gate, stewing.

Rafa waited with him as rain fell from a featureless grey sky. She spoke only once as they waited for the heretic's arrival. "Malak."

"Mmm."

"It doesn't have to be like this."

He didn't answer. She slumped, staring at the interlocking stones beneath her feet.

When the lookouts sighted the Beoulve, Malak snapped more orders, arranging the ninjas, setting the summoners up to flank him. Rafa waited at his side, staring through the open gate at the path just outside. Her musk rod, propped into the ground against one of her boots, was smooth against her palms and fingers.

"Here he comes!" whispered one of the ninjas on the wall, pointing to a spot some ten paces outside. "Heretic Ramza Beoulve!"

Rafa hefted her staff and broke into a sprint, bolting through the open gate and onto the broad expanse just outside. The party she'd seen just hours before stood outside, sodden and muddy, weapons appearing in fists, but she addressed them before they could speak. "Ramza, help! This is a trap!"

"God damn it! Rafa!" Malak's voice rang out from behind her.


Ramza skidded to a halt on the worn paving stones, eyes darting to measure the situation. A woman in white running towards him, asking for help. A ninja on the wall, probably more inside. A man who'd just called after the woman -- Rafa? -- with a voice he'd heard somewhere before. No one else on the wall, or among the trimmed grass before it, apart from his friends.

His eyes snapped back to the woman. Dark hair and eyes, honey skin. She needed help.

Nodding, he darted to position himself between the wall and her, and spoke without tearing his eyes from the battle unfolding just within the city's gate. "How many are in there?"

"Six." Her voice was low and musical. "Ninjas, summoners and a--"

"Knox!" The big man paused in the act of hurrying up into Yardow proper, then turned as Ramza jerked a thumb at the woman behind him. "Guard her."

Knox nodded again, then bolted towards the two of them. Ramza sped past him, into the city.

Inside the gate lay a broad avenue separating the wall from the nearest houses, and a dozen or so combatants filled the empty space. Vector, he saw, was already down, though he'd taken a summoner with him, and Alicia was doing her best to fend off attacks from two ninjas at once. As he watched, Agrias fired off a Holy Explosion through one of the men. Lavian and the last ninja were circling, trying to get behind each other, and Jasmine remained outside yet.

That left a summoner and an oddly-dressed fellow Ramza took to be this group's leader. Damn it. That summoner'll shred us. Grimacing, he angled towards the woman standing alone. She managed to complete a spell during his approach, and he gritted his teeth as a blizzard of diamond-sharp ice flakes tore through him, but then he was behind her unprotected back. One punch stopped her heart in her ribs, and before she could scream he reached around to snap her neck.

Letting the body drop to the ground, he turned and raced for the leader, but not before the man invoked some bizarre skill at him. Ramza dodged bursts of flame erupting without apparent cause from midair, though one managed to strike him, burning what Shiva had already frozen. He countered with an Earth Slash, leaving the wizard bruised and bloody but standing.

As he closed for hand-to-hand, the man laughed harshly. He boasted the same exotic coloring as the woman outside, though with shorter dark hair and an intent scowl despite his laughter. "Ready to take a second drubbing?" he asked as his staff blurred into motion.

Ramza blocked the first strike, then launched a flying kick at the other man's head, which he dodged. "You... your voice." An open-handed strike connected with only the spinning staff. "You're the one who surprised me in Murond."

"You dropped like a bag of bricks." The wizard shook his head. "I'm Malak."

Ducking under a spinning strike at his head, Ramza launched another offensive, only to see the other man skid back. Damn it. His reach is too long with that staff. The man fought holding only one end of the weapon, holding it almost like a spear, and it was light enough to blur with every strike.

The thing hummed at his midsection once more and Ramza blocked it with an upraised forearm; wood cracked against flesh and pain flared through his arm. A Wave Fist rippled into the wizard's chest, driving him back another pace. In the momentary respite Ramza clutched at his injured arm, but he could still clench a fist with it. Nothing was broken.

"Think you can help her?" murmured the wizard as he danced forward with another offensive. "You can't. She's bound to us."

Ramza ignored the attempt at taunting, instead focusing his attention on the other man's weapon. I have to get past that thing. But it's too light, and he's too fast. Another swipe at his head, which he barely avoided. But this is just like fighting anyone else, isn't it?

When the next strike angled in at his head, he caught the staff in one open hand, then twisted. His other hand snapped forward, striking the weapon itself. Wood flexed, then cracked apart, sending chips sailing a few paces away.

Ramza let his momentum carry him through the rest of a circle, reversing his grip on the staff segment as he twisted. A backhanded stab sent the weapon's jagged end into the other man's chest.

The wizard grunted and staggered back, blinking at the arm-length of wood protruding from his ribcage, but Ramza didn't allow a moment of mercy. A kick drove the thing in even further, and one more open strike to the flat end drove it piercing out the man's back, through armor and cloak alike.

A few more steps backwards, arms windmilling to keep his balance, and Malak finally looked up from the instrument of his death. His mouth opened and moved, but no sound came from it. After a moment he collapsed to his knees, then toppled to the ground. Falling rain pushed around the pool of blood spreading from his chest.

Ramza ignored the man, glancing up at the rest of the fight. The ninjas had hacked Alicia down, but one had been charred to death and the other was just now falling with Lavian's blade in his middle. Everyone else was already tending to their wounds and looting the dead.

Shaking his head, Ramza squatted and patted down the body of the dead man at his feet. A few coins, a bracelet of gems, all stuff they could use, and... wait, what's this? Digging under the man's coat, he produced something hard, shiny and red. Oh. "Scorpio?"

After a moment he sighed, tucking it into one of his own pockets. It made belated sense, really; if this Malak had captured him, he'd have taken the stones, so Wiegraf would have been wondering where they were. Further searching did not reveal Taurus on Malak's person, however. Damn it.

A sudden sob jerked his head up. Knox and Rafa had made their way into the city, and now the woman's face had crumpled in agony, one fist pressed against her open mouth. Staggering towards the body, she dropped to her knees and reached one hand out to touch the dead man's shoulder. "Ma... Malak? How could... no...."

Beside her, Ramza stood upright, staring down at the process of her grief. Blood dripped from his fists to the ground, but the woman didn't notice, curled as she was over Malak's body. Shortly Knox wandered over as well, his usually-stoic face a mask of misery, and Jasmine helped a limping Alicia their way.

Somewhere in the city's rainy distance, a man shouted. Another, in a different direction. Ramza faced his gathering companions. "Change of plans. We have to keep moving."

Agrias nodded at the weeping Rafa. "What about her?"

"She comes with us."

The Holy Knight opened her mouth to argue, but he only looked at her, and she nodded. "Fine." Beside her, a pale and bleeding Vector nodded as well.

Squatting once more, Ramza touched Rafa's shoulder. "We need to go."

"We... I can't...." Choking, sniffling, she scrubbed the back of one hand across her face and shook her head. There was blood on her hands, blood on the snowy fabric of her clothes.

Ramza's face tightened. "I'm sorry, but there's no time." Reaching out, he wrapped arms around the woman's waist and heaved her to his shoulder. Then he staggered; he probably wasn't strong enough to be doing this, but he was already moving, heading for the gate with unsteady steps. Wood rattling across stone behind him announced someone picking up Rafa's staff, and then they were out of the city, making a beeline for the wooded hills a half-mile away, as twilight fell along with the rain.

It was over an hour later before they stopped. He'd long since handed Rafa over to Knox, but exhaustion dragged at his muscles nevertheless. Dropping himself to a rock on the edge of their makeshift campsite, he focused chakra after chakra until blood stopped leaking from his body. Then he simply sat there, drained, and stared at the others.

They'd claimed a clearing some fifteen paces across and strewn with pine needles. Towering evergreens rose in every direction, bundles of boughs and shadows in the failing cloudy daylight. Along one edge of the clearing lay a fallen log, mossy and half-rotten, on which Jasmine, Alicia and Vector were seated. Knox and Lavian stood a short distance away, talking quietly, faces serious, while elsewhere Agrias rooted through their jumbled belongings for food. Rafa sat huddled in herself, alone, staring at nothing. Her face was still more wet than the rain alone could account for.

Sighing, Ramza dragged himself to his feet and shuffled over to her. "Malak. Who was he?"

She blinked up at him several times before his presence seemed to register, and then she hugged her knees even more tightly. "My brother."

"Your... your brother." Ramza swallowed, staring down at his open hands. They'd started to shake. He lifted one to rub his face, and then his knees gave out, depositing him on the ground beside her. Rainwater dripped from his hair, running down his face, blurring his vision.

She didn't answer, only stared into space. Across the clearing, Agrias gave the two of them a strange glance, then scooted a little farther away, perhaps hoping to provide more privacy.

Ramza stared at the mud under his folded legs. "Who are you?" he whispered. "We know only your name."

Cloth shifted beside him. "Rafa Galthana." She paused, then sighed. "My brother and I were war orphans. Our village... burned, but Barinten found and raised us. Taught us things."

"Assassins," muttered Ramza. "I've heard of you."

"Assassins. Only I found some old records saying... records about his soldiers, what they'd done during the war. He ordered it. He had the village burned so he could get his hands on us."

Ramza slicked wet hair back from his face. "Why?"

Rafa sighed again. "We... have skills. Like magic, but not. Unique, I think. So... I tried to bring that up with Malak, along with... other recent things, but he didn't want to listen. I wanted to leave, to run off with him and do something else, but he wanted to stay with the Grand Duke."

He nodded, plucking a leafy weed from the muddy soil. "What are you going to do now?"

She remained silent for long moments as the clearing succumbed to evening darkness. With the world thoroughly soaked, and with possible pursuit behind them in any case, nobody bothered with a fire. Instead, Vector and Jasmine produced squares of oiled cloth and spread them along the ground so that at least a few people could sleep without getting muddy.

Eventually the assassin turned her head his way. "What about you? What are your plans?"

He shrugged. "We're on our way to Riovanes. I need to talk to Barinten."

"About what?"

"About these." As he spoke, he fished under his vest and shortly produced Scorpio and Aries.

Rafa frowned. "What are they?"

"Zodiac stones. Scorpio and Aries." When she only blinked back up at him, he stuffed the things back into his pocket. "I had two on me before Malak captured me in Murond. Then I just now got this one from him, and another one from Wiegraf earlier, so Barinten probably has the third one. Or at least he has to know something I can use."

Dark eyes scanned his face. "You're going there to question him? Or to kill him?"

Ramza met her gaze without pretense. "Question, yes. Kill... maybe. Depends on how he answers my questions."

She nodded. "Then I'd like to come with you."

He hesitated, studying her, but could read nothing of her intentions from her face. Her manner was bland, nonchalant, as though she'd just decided to order soup for lunch, not to interrogate and potentially kill her foster father. Does she really get it? "Rafa... it's not just Barinten. We're after everyone who might know anything about the stones, who might be using them to stir up and manipulate the war. This isn't a single mission; it's a job."

White-clad shoulders shrugged. "That's fine."

"And we're likely to be going up against the Church again. I think they know the most of what's going on. You'd be a heretic too."

"I don't care."

His eyebrows climbed despite himself, and he found himself glancing across the campsite, to where Knox and Lavian were sitting together, too close. Chatting. Finally. Someone who gets it. "Okay. You can come with us."


Her dreams were shadows and fire. She awoke sweating, shivering, soaked by rain.

Rafa lay in her blankets for some time before finally rising in the cloudy pre-dawn twilight. Some of the others were up as well, the pretty Jasmine, the towering brute called Knox. None were speaking, and their faces were grim as they went about their morning routines. Perhaps her mood had affected the others, or perhaps Ramza's had, but their stiff postures and downcast faces bespoke an unwillingness to break the silence. She understood this to be unusual; none of them carried a loner's cold aura, not like Ramza did. He was different from them.

By dawn they were moving. She'd left Hien in Yardow, and Ramza's people lacked mounts anyway, so the travel was by foot. But brisk. She could barely keep up.

The rain tailed off around midday, when they crossed into the cursed Yuguo Wood. In less than an hour the undead she'd managed to avoid on her way to Yardow had attacked. She fought savagely, coldly, eager to prove herself to her new companions, and the fight was over in moments. Nobody spoke -- perhaps this was commonplace to them -- save for Vector, who laughed nervously as he made some comment about her Heaven skill.

When evening came she found a spot by herself at the edge of the campsite, a broad space atop a craggy green hill. Below stretched half of northern Ivalice, it seemed, a collection of bushy trees and rectilinear farm fields etched into the earth. The vantage point from the hill was good enough that others used it frequently; a well-used firepit beckoned in the center until Knox got a blaze going in it.

After dining on an apple from her own supplies, she tossed the core down the hill and resumed her thinking. Her grieving.

At least until the feel of someone's eyes on her disturbed her introspection. Glancing up, she spotted Ramza watching her from twenty paces away. The fire, almost due behind him, left him largely silhouetted apart from a sliver of warm illumination dancing along the edge of his face and body. She met his gaze openly and waited.

Long moments later he turned and shuffled away, to the other side of the campsite, where he dropped to sit on the ground, outside of the fire's light. Rafa frowned after him, then rose to follow.

Agrias and Jasmine blocked her path, however, faces open and honest, perhaps artificially so. "Hey," greeted the former Holy Knight. "We don't want to impose or anything, but if you need to talk to anyone, we want you to know that you can. With anyone here."

"Except Ramza," added Jasmine with a grin. "He doesn't talk much."

Rafa glanced from face to face, one pale and chiseled, one olive and smiling. Then, shuffling forward, she reached for the silver hoop pierced through Jasmine's nose.

The priestess skidded back, raising one hand to catch Rafa's wrist, then blinked as though surprised she'd moved. An uncomfortable smile spread over her face after that, and she chewed a lip. "Um, what...?"

Rafa shook her head, withdrawing her hand from the other woman's grasp. "Thank you for the offer." Her voice threatened to crack as she spoke, so she did so quietly. "I... will keep it in mind."

Agrias nodded. "Okay. Just... so you know." The two women exchanged glances, then strode off towards the fire, Jasmine offering one last smile first.

Once they were gone, Rafa continued on her way to where Ramza sat alone with his back to the fire. He didn't turn around as she approached, didn't move as she claimed a seat on the damp ground beside him.

Long moments passed, and he said nothing. His head hung a little tilted to her side, and his bronze eyes stared disconsolately at the empty air.

Eventually he stirred without glancing at her. "What?" he whispered.

"You were staring at me. Why?"

His eyes slid shut, and his face sagged further, if possible. "I shouldn't have killed Malak."

Rafa blinked, then shifted her gaze to her lap. After a moment she placed her face in her hands and shook. Her eyes stung, so she squeezed them shut, and despite her efforts a few gasps escaped her slack lips.

"I still don't understand why you want to come with us, really," continued Ramza in a dead monotone. "You don't know any of us at all, and I'm a notorious heretic, and I've just hurt you in a way that's very hard if not impossible to recover from. Not a lot of reason to travel with us."

She bit her lip, hard, giving herself another sort of pain to focus on. Another sniffle and her eyes blurred further, and she scrubbed them wearily clear.

"So I just... I don't know. Why do you want to kill Barinten, anyway? If you really found those histories you talked about, why couldn't you have just showed them to Malak? Wouldn't he have believed you?"

Rafa sighed, wiping one last time at her eyes, and cleared her throat. She opened her mouth... then paused, glancing sideways at Ramza. At the heretic, the crazed killer. He wasn't even looking at her, instead poking at the ground before him. Something about his posture, about how his shoulders were slumped, radiated the feel of... humility? Indifference? Whatever it was, he was someone who wouldn't judge.

She lowered her gaze to her lap, let her eyes drift shut. "Barinten... was never a good parent. He was too busy to spend much time with us, and even when I was younger, he used to... his hands would... would roam." She swallowed, cleared a scowl. "I was young, seven or so, and though that seemed a little different to me, I didn't really get its significance until I got older. And as the years passed, it got... just a little worse, every day. Until just a few weeks ago."

She paused, but Ramza had the grace not to interrupt, so she took a breath and forced the words out. "Things got... much worse, then. Infinitely worse. It was night, and... I don't even think he'd been drinking, and I woke up and he was there, and he just... I... couldn't stop him. Tried to scream, but all I could do was whimper. It hurt, and it hurt for a week, but he just laughed about it, like it was nothing out of the--"

"Rafa?"

"Hmm?" She was shivering now, fingers curled into helpless fists.

"Did he... are you saying he... raped you?"

She swallowed again, then gazed over at him. He was staring back at her with a peculiar expression on his face, one she couldn't recognize. After a moment she sighed and stared back down at her lap.

"Oh, Rafa." His voice was a broken whisper, robbed of hope but glowing with sincere concern. "Rafa, I'm so sorry."

"So I just... had to get out of there," she murmured, toying with the laces of her boots. Her heart had calmed now, had slowed to a healthy pace, now that the words were out. "You're right; I could have proved it to Malak, about the village, but he was always a hothead. He would've blown up in my face, and then it would have been a week before we could speak again, and that was just too long. I had to leave."

"I understand."

She shook her head, then glanced sideways again. "So... well, that's why I want to kill Barinten."

Ramza nodded, staring bleakly at the ground.

She watched him for a moment, then tilted her head at him. "What about you, then?"

Lifeless hazel eyes rose to meet her gaze. "What about me?"

"Why are you like this?"

His face clouded momentarily as his eyes stared inward. Then he heaved a heavy sigh. "My... sister died."

She blinked, gazing off to the southeast for a moment, before frowning at him. "And?"

He shrugged. "The Death Corps kidnapped her. During the rescue attempt, she died. I was right there."

Rafa paused, eyes narrowing as she studied his profile. "What does that have to do with all this stuff you're doing?"

"It... doesn't." He shook his head, then spread his hands. "It was negligence that put her in that position in the first place. My brothers didn't care. Nobody cared. So I just... I want to find all the people in the world who are like that, who can just let innocent people die or even orchestrate their deaths, and kill them. That's all."

She chewed a lip, watching him. He'd used expansive, sweeping gestures during his explanation, the most animated she'd seen him during the day and a half of their acquaintance. This is important to him.

Abruptly he grimaced, shifting his seat on the flattened grass. "This is a little odd."

"What is?"

He gestured vaguely between them, having apparent difficulty meeting her gaze. "I've never talked about this. With anyone. I... don't know why I am now."

She watched his discomfort for a moment longer, then shifted her gaze out to the darkness below the hill and swallowed past a lump in her throat. "We understand each other. You can't understand someone until you've suffered what they have."

"I suppose."

She didn't answer, and he didn't speak further. A quarter-hour later she rose and sought her blankets, and he did the same.

The next day brought more travel. Only a few hours of stiff hiking remained between their campsite and Riovanes Castle, but Ramza insisted on setting a brisk pace, and nobody complained. Rafa certainly didn't; the sooner she got there, the sooner she could confront Barinten.

Riovanes was just as she'd left it days ago, hard lines and unforgiving corners. Stark, blocky and intimidating. The only elements of beauty in the city were the delicate spires topping the castle towers and the arches of the aqueduct carrying water from nearby hills. At the city's outer gate, the pair of guards atop the wall barely even glanced in their direction as they strode inside.

By some hidden signal, Ramza and the others ducked quickly out of the street, into the first decent inn they came across. Rafa followed them in, gazing with mild curiosity at the sparsely-peopled common room, a collection of round tables polished to a warm glow. Agrias spoke quietly and to the point with the balding and muscular innkeeper, and then the whole group was trooping upstairs to the guest rooms.

Once inside the largest such, Rafa watched as Ramza shut the door, then frowned at him. "Why are we at an inn?"

"To plan," answered Agrias, throwing open the room's shutters, allowing a view of the upper story of the fur shop across the street. "And to stay out of sight."

"It's sort of a tradition for us," added Jasmine with a smile. Seated on the bed beside her, Vector bobbed his head in a nod.

"The plan today is very simple," decided Ramza, crossing arms and leaning back against the door. "Rafa's bringing me in as a captive, and no one else is coming."

"Don't be a moron," snapped Alicia. "Do you remember what happened the last time we didn't bring everyone with us?"

Ramza leveled a steady gaze at her. "Yes. I spoke with Zalbag in Lesalia and walked away without any problems."

The redhead's face flushed to match her hair, but her icy glare didn't change. "I... mean the time before that."

"Yeah. I got captured."

Alicia nodded. "So what makes you think--"

"Listen," sighed Ramza, scowling at the floor beneath his feet. "Rafa is known here. She's expected, and can reach Barinten himself without question. She can claim I'm there with a proposal or something, and I won't say anything until he sends his guards away. Then he's ours."

Alicia frowned at this, dark eyes narrowed, obviously trying and failing to find fault with the plan. Then she sighed.

"And," continued Ramza, "any plan that requires more people will also require fighting, which actually makes it less reliable. Rafa, are you willing to do this?"

She nodded. "It makes sense."

Ramza nodded as well, then pushed himself from the door. "Alright. We'll see the rest of you guys in a couple of hours."

"Wait."

He paused, then glanced back at Agrias. "What?"

The swordswoman gave her lips a distasteful twist. "At least leave the stones here. If you're captured again, I don't want to lose them."

"Oh. Yeah." He fumbled around briefly for the Zodiac stones, then tossed both to her. She caught them gingerly in both hands, hissing, as though afraid they might explode.

Rafa stirred, glancing around at everyone's belongings stowed against the walls, under the beds. "Is there anything we can use as a hood? Or some rope?"

"Actually, yes." Smiling, Lavian reached into her pack and produced a fold of black cloth, while Vector somehow came up with a length of hemp rope. A few minutes of tying and fiddling left Ramza giving a fairly convincing impression of a captive, though the ropes binding his wrists behind his back remained loose enough for him simply to shrug out of.

And then they were out, into the warm early-afternoon sunlight angling in against stone walls and streets. The city remained as populous as ever, stuffed full of merchants yelling at travelers. Full of animals, some loose, and urchins and street performers and beggars.

Rafa spoke only once on their way through the city. "Ramza."

"What?" His voice was muffled by the black hood.

"I won't be able to do it with my own hands."

"Okay."

At the gate to the castle proper, the guards waved at her, and one leered. She ignored them. Inside was a maze of hard greyish corridors illuminated to barbaric splendor by flickering wall lamps at too-far intervals.

A few questions to servants and pages directed her to the castle's top floor, to the Grand Duke's dining chamber. She pushed her way in without even knocking and strolled onto the low stone balcony area, Ramza in tow.

A broad space below. Sunlight slanting in to leave warm bars across the rug-clad floor. A table big enough to seat twelve, only now Barinten was the sole person at it, and he glanced up in sharp surprise at her entry. A fat man, balding in front, in a stately green robe, his face twisted in impatient irritation as only one born to nobility could do. "Oh, Rafa. You're back already?"

She nodded, striding to the rail of the balcony, a level rising some three paces higher than the floor below. There were guards, five guards. Two knights flanking the door behind her, then two more and a time mage lounging around behind Barinten. "Yes."

The Grand Duke grunted, tearing a bite from a leg of chicken. "Who the hell is that?" he muttered around a mouthful of food.

"This is a captive. He has a proposal for you."

"Oh?" Barinten chuckled, shaking his head. "Where's Malak?"

"Malak is dead."

The man paused at this, twisting around to frown at her. After a moment he resumed his chewing, then swallowed. "Killed by Ramza?"

Her face tightened. "This... should be discussed in private."

Barinten nodded impatiently, waving his guards off as he retrieved a silk napkin to wipe his face. The guards shifted and started shuffling towards the door, one man scratching an itch on the back of his neck as he did so. They found nothing unusual in this, at being dismissed so the lord of the castle could speak to his pretty assassin in private.

Once they were gone and the doors were closed, Rafa pushed Ramza ahead of her. He stumbled at the top of the stairs, and again at the bottom.

"Who's this, then?" sighed Barinten, twisting his chair around as they approached. "One of Ramza's troop?"

Two paces away, Rafa's hands were sweating. She released Ramza's rope, then, in one swift motion, drew her belt knife and pressed its edge against Barinten's crotch before he could even react. "One word from you," she murmured, staring into his widening eyes, "or one shout for the guards, and I'll cut your balls off."

"What is the meaning of this?" he hissed, teeth bared in fury. "Are you turning on me? You little bitch!"

Beside her, Ramza proceeded unhurriedly to slip his hands from the rope and unwind the hood from his head. "Shut up. You're going to answer our questions."

"Who... you!" Barinten's eyes widened again and his face went pale as he recognized the face on so many posters around town. "What the hell do you want?"

Without even a flicker of emotion, Ramza punched him in the face. "I said you're going to answer our questions. Don't make me repeat myself."

Barinten shook his head groggily, then spat blood to the floor. "Fine. What are your damn questions?"

Rafa narrowed her eyes. "Where's Taurus?"

"Oh? Is that what this is about? You filthy ingrate! Turning on me to get your grubby little hands on the Zo--"

Another punch from Ramza silenced him. "Use your tongue wisely while you still have it. You can answer questions in writing if you have to."

Barinten glared icy murder up at the other man as his blood-slick lips writhed in impotent hate. After a moment he bared his teeth in a snarling smile. "Taurus is in my pocket, you daft bastard," he answered in a low growl, pronouncing each word with delicate and sarcastic precision. "You'll never get away with this."

Unworried, Ramza reached into the Grand Duke's coat and shortly came out with a glittering yellow gem. Without a word, without even blinking, he tucked it into his own coat.

Rafa nodded another question at their victim. "Why were you trying to kill Ramza?"

"Why do you care about him? He's a madman, you know. I can't believe you're siding with him against me, you stupid little whore. Which of you seduced the other into coming here?"

She sighed, trying to summon a measure of patience. "I'm not yours to command anymore," she corrected. "You lost that privilege when you showed up in my room at night. But if you answer our questions with a minimum of rancor, I promise I won't kill you."

"Whatever. Fine." Barinten shifted in his chair, as well as he could with a dagger an inch from gelding him. "I... wanted the stones, and Ramza was in the way. Killing him would both eliminate a rival for gathering them, and serve to win the Church's good will."

"Is that why you were in Murond?" asked Ramza flatly.

The Grand Duke nodded. "I knew you were headed there, and that you were important to the Church."

Rafa shared a wordless glance with her new companion, then stared back down at her enemy. "Who's your contact in the Church?"

A sigh. "Vormav. Vormav Tingel."

"Who is he?"

"Shrine Knight. Top-ranking."

"What have you discussed with him?"

Barinten grimaced, opened his mouth, then glanced down at the dagger before slumping. "Not much. I just recently sent him a letter inviting him here."

Ramza frowned. "Why?"

"To leverage the fact that I have... had Scorpio and Taurus. To buy his help, find out where the others are, how they can be used."

Rafa tightened her grip on the dagger. "Why did you burn my village? I found the records. I know what you did."

Barinten donned a bloody grin. "Your elders were insolent. Refusing me? Honestly."

Her jaw clenched against her will. "You don't understanding the meaning of the word 'no,' do you?"

He shrugged. "No is meaningless without the power to back it up."

She shifted her gaze to Ramza. "Speaking of power, we're done, aren't we? I don't have any more questions."

He frowned at this, then regarded the sitting Barinten with as much expression he might give an insect. "I believe we're done. Up, now. On your feet."

Barinten waited until Rafa sheathed her dagger before standing. Dark suspicion painted his face. "What?"

"Over here." Ramza gripped the other man's shoulder with one hand, and with the other pointed towards the stained-glass windows. "There's something I want you to see."

Barinten rolled his eyes but complied, shuffling towards the windows, squinting against the light. "What? You can barely even see anything through th--"

He cut off with a grunt as a kick from Ramza sent him skidding forward. Into the windows. A balding head struck glass and shattered it, sending shards glittering out into the windy afternoon. Brinten planted shaking hands against the stone wall to push himself back, but Ramza leapt on him, smashing him back down onto the jagged remains of the window on the sill. One fist curled into greying hair, lifted him up, and slammed him down again. Razor-sharp wedges of glass bit into human flesh, growing slick with blood as they pierced face and throat and chest alike, again and again.

In moments it was over. Barinten's body lay slumped halfway out the window, oozing ruby life in generous trails down the wall.

Finally Rafa managed to pry her fingers from the hilt of her dagger. "Ramza... that was... brutal."

Humorless brown eyes shifted to meet hers, unapologetically. "Brutal is what I do now."

She swallowed, then smiled. A genuine smile. "Thank you."

He turned to regard the window, now opening into nothing but air and sunlight. "I bet we can get out through the windows. Let's go."