Author's Notes: February 9th, 2013: Hey everyone, I'm just posting this to give you guys a heads up. It's been upwards of a month from my last post and I say that I have not forgotten about this story. I'm in college and most of my time goes to that. As it is, I do still write and I have no intention of stopping this story. If anything, I'm getting closer to the parts where I'll marathon out segments. The majority of the time consumption is due to the fleshing out of background instead of moving the main plot forwards. Don't worry, the plot is moving forward rapidly now. The next arc is going to be fast paced as you certainly know if you've seen the game.

Also as a note, I wanted to ask my readers opinion. I've contemplated uploading a secondary story as a palate cleanser. Not from the FFT fandom. If you have an opinion on the matter do tell me in a PM. As for now, have fun, enjoy, and thank you all for your patience and understanding.

Act 2,

Chapter 5

Waking up on the floor was a new experience for Ramza. Having usually spent his nights either sleeping in a bedroll out in the wilderness or sitting up in a chair, to find him on the floor was something of an oddity.

Though the bigger oddity was the pounding in his head, causing the young mercenary to wince as he sat up.

"Miluda, what happened last night?" He asked as he tried to stand up without causing more pain to his first hangover. The previous night seemed a blur, much of it having been eroded from his memory by the alcohol, to which his body had not become accustomed.

"You fell asleep on the floor." He heard the woman reply, though he could see that she hadn't moved from her spot on the bed, though from the soft tone of her words, he could only assume she felt similar to him. And that was quite horrendous.

"What happened, before that?" He asked back, finally pulling himself upright and taking stock of himself.

"We went out drinking. Came back. Passed out. Seems like a fairly normal day, we leaving today?" She explained, transitioning into the question as soon as she finished explaining. Her whole body felt heavy as she pulled herself into a sitting position letting the blankets pool around her midsection, the light of a long burnt low candle casting shallow shadows on the wall behind her.

"We leave just after sunrise. Are you sure you want to come with us?" He asked her, taking a second to look around and let his eyes adjust to the low light. "And why does my head hurt so badly?" He decided the last question after half a moment of silence and general pain.

"It's probably just the hangover, though you did fall off the bed at some point. Didn't even wake you up, but then, you're quite the heavy sleeper, aren't you Ramza?" Miluda answered with a smirk.

"So is the hangover the reason my head hurts or is it because I fell on my head?"

"I'd place my Gil on the hangover; you're too thick headed to let a little bump hurt you for longer than five minutes." She chuckled out as she stood and stretched out the tension in her arms and legs.

"Um, Miluda, Do you mind putting your clothes on?" Ramza asked, averting his eyes now that he noticed her exposed chest.

"You saw me without them yesterday, why do you care now?" She answered, not flinching at all as she saw Ramza give her a dumbfounded expression before looking away from her exposed body again, a heavy blush just barely visible on his cheeks in the dim light.

"Why'd I see them yesterday?"

"We got a bit friendly after the drinks and our shirts came off, now are you going sit there all day just because you're afraid of a pair of breasts or are we going to help Mustadio?" She uttered a sarcastic lightheartedness to her voice.

"You're right. We should get ready and should leave before too late. The maps show Goug as being to the west, on an island. It'll take us a couple days at the least to make it there." He answered his voice drifting to an emotionless monotone before he finally got around to pulling on his boots and tying them in a knot.

"You're worried." It was more of a statement than a question. She could tell he was perturbed by the way this situation sounded. Bart Company didn't sound like a bunch of thugs. They had money and they could afford hired muscle. Ironically, mercenaries just like them.

"We're walking into a trap. You know it too." He answered, turning to look at the woman as she pulled on her shirt.

"Looks that way, but the only way we're going to get Mustadio's father back is to go arrange a trade. You know just as well as I do that they have no intention of completing the trade. They'll want us to hand over the stone before they hand over his father. Once they have that, they've got no reason to honor their side of the deal."

"Do you have any ideas for how we can get out of this alive?" Ramza asked, offering the woman a hand as she stood from the bed.

"All we need to do is get them to look at the stone. As soon as they've got it, we attack and grab Mustadio's dad. Once we've got him we can run back to the church's territory. Did the Count say what kind of support he was sending?"

"He said the church soldiers would move to shut down Bart's operations. If we can just get away from the meeting point, maybe we can escape back here. Check back up on the Princess and Agrias and start heading back to Dorter before the war heats up any more." Ramza answered, blowing out a candle as Miluda finished tying off her boots.

"Sounds good, now let's go. The blacksmith still has a package for us." She said, giving the boy a push out the door.

When they reached the road outside the inn, they could see the horizon beginning to lighten considerably, painting the sky a myriad of colors. From a vermillion red to a brightening magenta hue, the sky was painted as an artist would.

"It's nice out here. Why don't you wait while I go in and grab my armor?" The woman suggested as they began walking up the road.

"I can do that. You know it's been just over a year now that we watched that first sunrise." Ramza said as he was walking with his arms crossed behind his head. Eyes skyward.

"I remember. And I still haven't forgiven you for knocking me out!" She responded jokingly, giving the man a light jab in the ribs as she said it, coming to a halt in front of the blacksmith's shop. "Wait here, I'll be back in just a moment."

She entered the shop in a breeze, leaving Ramza outside to watch the clouds drift by in the lightening morning's light. His head still hurt from the previous night's escapades but it was drifting away now.

He stood there leaning against the wall for several minutes before he heard the shimmer of chainmail. What he saw was Miluda, covered in a suit of plate mail. The gaps between the sturdy plates of Mythril were reinforced with a shirt of metal rings underneath. The oddity however was the green vest tucked under her arm.

"Catch." Was the only warning he received as the woman threw the vest at him, causing him to wince at the heavy impact of the armored clothing on his chest.

"What's this for?"

"It's yours. That's an adamant vest from what the smith said and it's got more reinforcing than your old one. Give that to Mustadio, I doubt he thought about getting any armor for himself."

"Why not just give him the new vest and I keep the old one?"

"Because he's not going to be the one charging into the fray with me. He's going to be sitting back and making use of that gun of his while we spring his dad."

"Fine, but why'd you buy it? I thought the money was for when we made it home?"

"You know Ramza, a lot of the time you're smart. But the money doesn't do that much if we don't make it home. I'd much rather spend it now and ensure we live to go home, than save it all and die on the way."

A moment of comprehension passed between the two before Ramza pulled the shirt over his head and unbuckled the vest from his chest and swapped it for the new one.

"Thanks, Miluda."

They met with Mustadio just outside the castles gates and made their way to the western gates of the castle town.

The road was stable for the majority of the day, however as the sun waned, the hard packed ground of the grasslands surrounding Lionel Castle soon gave way to the murky wetlands of Zigolis Swamp.

"Goug is past the swamps. This forms a small bridge that should take us to Goug." Mustadio told them as they set up their camp for the night. The trio of warriors and the lone chocobo to come with them had spent most of the day marching at a steady pace and all of them felt a bit of relief at a chance to rest their tired legs. Marching on soft earth had taken its toll over the day's march.

"There's not much dry tinder here for a fire." Ramza noted, striking a flint stone against the edge of his blade to produce sparks, yet barely igniting the rubbery wet grass he had balled up as the beginnings of what he'd hoped to be a good fire. "I don't think we'll be able to keep it fed for long." He said as he cracked off the limbs of a long dead shrub sticking out from the murky depths around their campsite.

In the distance a dull rumble rang through as a peal of thunder broke off anyone's response.

"And it's going to rain." Mustadio said for the rest of them.

They spent that night in relative silence, spent primarily with the odd quartet surrounding the small embers of a fire that was struggling to stay alight. After a short while they each gave up and made their way to the tents in hopes of at the very least remaining dry once the rain started, as opposed to warm near a fire that refused to give off any heat.

"Stay dry, little friend." Ramza heard Miluda coo to Boco as she removed the saddle and covered him with a dry blanket to keep away as much of the chill as could be done.

"Boco tucked in for the night?" Ramza chuckled as the woman stepped into the tent, tying the flap behind her to keep it from swinging open when the storm neared.

"He'll be fine for the night. Boco's seen worse than a thunderstorm." She answered as she unbuckled the straps holding her bracers on before going to work on her pauldrons.

"And you?" He couldn't help but ask at the implication of her statement as he rolled onto his back, resting his head on his own shirt, balled beneath his head.

"I've seen worse. Boco's not the only one with scars, you know." She smirked back, letting her breastplate fall down beside her.

"Hey, I've got my fair share as well!" He answered back jokingly. He liked the simple interaction they had. It seemed honest. There wasn't all that much either could do to offend the other. And what little that could be done, neither would try out of respect or perhaps admiration of the other. Ramza for his trust in the woman's strength of spirit and steadfast resolve, and Miluda for her trust in his honorable ideals and kind-heart.

"Fine then, favorite scar?" She asked him, finishing with one more piece of armor before sliding down to unbuckle the greaves.

"My favorite scar?"

"Yes, your favorite scars! And you better tell the story of it, otherwise the game is no fun." She answered with a slight pout.

"Fine. Umm." He pondered for a moment before shouting "Here," as he pointed to a jagged line of slightly darker skin along his lower abdomen barely noticeable among the ridges of coiled muscle.

"How'd you get that one?" She asked back, finally finished with her armor she stacked the items together to her side, just as the sounds of rain droplets could be heard plinking off the stitched and rubber resin coated surface of the tent.

"I was sparring with my brother when I was young. I'd just learned how to hold a sword and Zalbag was helping me train."

"I've heard he was a skilled swordsman. It must have been nice to practice with a master like that."

"Well, back then he wasn't as skilled as the Zalbag you've heard of. Zalbag was a natural leader, though mainly because he was unrivaled in his swordsmanship once he joined the knights, at least in this generation. But when we were both younger and I'd just started learning how to swing a practice sword, Zalbag swiped me good in the chest, saying something loud about "Watching your guard first and then attacking." Afterwards though, he had me drink a potion and whispered "My very first day training with a sword, Father asked me to spar with him. I was so happy, I forgot about the fact I was practicing with a master swordsman. You want to know what Father told me." "He continued, pausing for a moment as a peal of thunder rumbled outside and giving Miluda a chance to take in the story.

"What'd he say?" She asked, taking a closer look at the long line of scar tissue.

"Your grandfather gave me a scar just like this one, and the thing he told me was. "Every Beoulve is a master swordsman, whether by design or fate we are all artists on the battlefield. We are to hold the very ideals of Knighthood. Right below those ideals are the rules of being a warrior. And the very first rule is "Never leave yourself open."" Ramza said with a fake deep accent, trying to replicate the vocal quality of Zalbag before he laughed to himself. "And to never forget that a potion always helps afterwards."

They both laughed at the joke for a moment before Ramza continued. "I like the scar, it reminds me of Father, even if Zalbag and Dycedarg don't act like knights should, at the very least I know that Father's teachings stuck for me."

"Nice story, Ramza." Miluda answered, giving him a light jab in the chest. "Now, want to hear a real story?"

"Oh, by all means, take the stage oh queen of stories." Ramza mocked as he sat up just to bow before her in a sarcastic manner."

"Well if you insist." She chuckled before pushing him back down onto his back letting the stories and steadily increasing rainfall create a not unpleasant atmosphere.

"Tell me Ramza, Have you heard the story of the battle of Viura?" She asked first.

"Isn't that the capital of Ordalia?"

'So you've heard of what happened in the Fifty-Years War there?"

"Not very much. All I know is that it was the farthest the Ivalician forces made it before we were pushed back by the Romandans and Ordalians."

"Well I have a story for you, about this scar, right here." She said, leaning forwards and pulling up the back of her shirt, exposing a trio of discolored spots in a less than equal triangular formation.

"Viura was an old and very proud city. Stonework, Art, the city itself was cultured. It held up the role of being a capital as well as being the center of culture for the Ordalian provinces."

The vanguard advanced through the rows of cobblestone tiled streets. The masons of Ordalia were a skilled bunch indeed if they'd managed to build not only the columns that gracefully decorated the structures of the civil buildings but also manage to shape the stones that were smooth enough to allow a carriage to easily travel along the road.

She could smell it everywhere. An odd combination of fire and blood tainted the air as she marched along the road. Around her, other commoners who'd been conscripted were leading the way into the once thriving capital city. Though she wasn't a conscript, she could feel a kindred spirit with the men and women around her. They all fought on the hopes that they'd have a better life after the war. They weren't Knights, and they most certainly weren't nobles. These men formed the backbone of the Ivalician army under the command of King Denamda the Second of the Ivalice Crown.

The majority of the men weren't heavily armored, and wore paddings composed solely of light leather or thick linen cuirasses. Most didn't even wield a sword. Most of them were just issued a long pike and sent onto the battlefield to fight. The resources to craft mass quantities of swords and shields were better used equipping the heavily armored fighters as opposed to the arming of peasants who didn't know how to use the weapons anyways. Give them a spear and the simple instruction to use it and send them on their way. Archers marched behind the peasant army; simple longbows were strung up and in hands as the small unit marched with them.

They marched nearly unopposed through the capital of their enemy. It was a strange sensation to conquer ones foe with such success. The king's leadership was indeed a great boon. However, as they made their way deeper into the city a rumor began to spring up from the back ranks to the front.

"The king is dead?!" Was the first warning they received. A messenger had arrived from the rear lines and reported the news. Immediately the vanguard formation halted their advance and waited. With the king dead, the leadership of the army needed to transfer to a different commander.

"What about his son? Denamda the Third?" She asked, gathering with her comrades to question the messenger. The march would have to resume later, they couldn't afford to advance too far until the new commander of the army gave them the orders and support to move forward, otherwise they'd be cut off from the rest of the army and surrounded.

"His eldest son fell in battle when we breached the city. His younger son isn't here to take command. He'd make a fine leader, but we need someone to take command now." The messenger answered, letting everyone in the leading army know the situation as it stood.

"Then who is leading us here?" An older man carrying a dented helmet under his arm asked.

"Balbanes Beoulve from the Hokuten is drawing closer to reinforce the army, and Cidolfas Orlandu of the Nanten is already taking immediate command. We should have new orders by dawn. Take up defensive positions and await further orders." The messenger said, before he rode off again on a red chocobo.

"Everyone, entrench yourselves here. I want guards posted on shifts and no fires. We don't want to give ourselves away any more than we have now." The leading Knight ordered.

The night ran on and was dully quiet, in the distance they could see the fires of burning buildings, and it put the soldiers on edge. However, as dawn rose to greet them, they hoped they could move on soon. Sitting still in the Ordalian capital didn't bode well for any warriors, especially those from Ivalice.

"Everyone, get up and ready. We move out as soon as we receive the new orders." The Knight commanded once more, signaling the men to begin armoring up and readying for the march.

As the leader turned his back to begin organizing his soldiers, everyone awake in the camp could hear a heavy click.

Everyone heard the sound, yet couldn't pinpoint the source until a few seconds later, when the Knight keeled over, a thick bolt punched through the man's metal armor, blood leaking through the crack at a rapid pace.

Chaos erupted among the troops as the Ordalian ambush was sprung. From the tops of nearby buildings Ordalian Archers armed with crossbows began firing down into the group of Ivalician soldiers. In the meantime the chanting of a mage could be heard over the whistles of crossbow bolts. As it finished a great fire sprang up in front of the army, preventing any advancing and trapping the men, forcing them to turn their backs on the attackers.

From the side streets advanced the Ordalian infantry, pouring out to isolate the Ivalician army before they could retreat.

Men were being cut down on the sides as the entirety of Ivalice's vanguard broke formation and routed backwards, trying to flee the killing field that had been set up.

Miluda was no exception. Though she was a steadfast warrior, she knew that trying to hold ground when the men around her routed would only get her killed. She turned her back and ran, feeling supremely lucky that she'd had the opportunity to arm herself and put on her armor before their leader gave the order to do so.

The rout proved ill-fated however as more crossbowmen were springing up from the rooftops along the road. This was their territory and they knew how to move around it without using the main road. A skill the army from Ivalice did not hold. Around her she could see men being dropped, warriors she'd fought with several times and some soldiers with whom she'd never actually met, were being shot down from the rooftops and all the while being chased by the Ordalian army. It was very clear to everyone, if you fell down, or stopped running. You died. And this spurred some soldiers to run faster than they had in their entire lives. Though around her she could still see the bonds of brotherhood as some men stopped their mad retreat to help fallen comrades, slinging a wounded man over his shoulder, she watched a behemoth of a man carry two of his fallen allies when their strength gave way. It was a touching sight, or at least would have been had circumstances been different. As they ran she could see the welcoming sight of the allied forces growing steadily closer. If the men could retreat just slightly farther, they could regroup and make a counter-attack.

The problem was that all around her she could see that her allies were dwindling. They'd already left a line of corpses behind them, and not many of which were from the Ordalian force.

"Damn." Miluda said under her breath as she did something risky. She kept running for a few feet before she ducked low and grabbed a thick wooden shield painted red under the Nanten's black lion crest off the corpse of a knight.

While her comrades in arms kept rushing past her, she stood her ground, sword drawn and shield raised. None of them would make it if someone didn't keep the enemy distracted.

She crouched underneath the shield, feeling it shudder as heavy bolts stuck fast in the hard wood. She clenched her teeth as she felt the metal tip of one poke through the wood, scraping the side of her arm, just barely leaving a cut.

The crossbowmen all spotted her, and took aim, trying to shoot down the one defiant warrior who stood up to their trap.

Around her she could hear the thudding sound of bolts either missing her or feel them sticking into the shield. Her leather armor wouldn't do that much to stop the bolts, but if she was lucky, it'd do enough to divert the attacks. "Regroup with the main army! Keep running!" She screamed to the stragglers as they slipped behind her. Many limping together, bolts sticking out of their bodies and small puddles of blood behind them.

As she briefly looked over she caught eyes with the massive man carrying his comrades from earlier. She could see he had a few bolts sticking out of his chest. He was bleeding heavily, more so than the other wounded men nearby. His armor was shredded and he looked to be on his last legs.

It was a strange sensation to look into the eyes of someone so close to death. Time seemed to slow, or perhaps it was her mind catching up to what was happening, because it was all being imbedded into her memory. This man was willingly so near to death, and yet he carried two other men with him knowing that he'd worsened his chances of survival by raising those of his allies. They locked eyes, and he smiled. Perhaps knowing that together they'd saved more men than the entirety of the rout had or perhaps it was simply the fact that he knew he wasn't the only one to risk everything for the rest of the army.

As she watched him, she felt a sharp pain in her side, breaking eye contact for the moment she saw that she too had taken a bolt, though this one was to her lower back. She bit down to stifle the scream as she felt it rip parts of her flesh. She ducked lower, letting the shield take up the entirety of her side before she took a glance back at the man. She saw him nod, before he leaned slightly to free one of his arms, and used it to rummage through the bag on one of the unconscious men on his back's property. He did it for a half a moment before he finally withdrew a flask, its glass body filled with a large dose of blue liquid. He nodded to her, before throwing the vessel to fall in the dust at her feet.

She was speechless, though she hardly had the ability to speak as it was. She was busy trying to fight the pain in her back as it tried to overcome her. She leaned down to pick up the flask and downed the contents as quickly as possible. She could feel the flesh on her back start to numb and then felt as the reformed muscle and skin force the bolt out, letting in fall to the ground, blood drying quickly on its tip.

She used the moment of renewed energy to rise from her crouch and strafe over to protect the last of the Ivalician stragglers, the giant man and his human baggage.

They fell back slowly, nearing the reformed lines of knights, all wearing the Nanten standard. So that's who's reinforcing us. She backed up further, and finally as the large man hauled his comrades to the waiting reinforcements as well as priests and chemists who were ready to heal them. She finally turned her back to make her escape. She saw the man pass out face down on the ground before the chemists could coax him forward to accept healing.

She was meters away from her allies. She dropped the shield, now riddled with bolts and near the point of breaking, its once proud crest now marred with the attacks of their foes. The healing effects of the potion were on the wane when she made her retreat.

She heard it first. Then felt it. A click followed near instantaneously by the high pitched whistle of fletching in the wind. She gave out a cry as the first bolt pierced her side. This time punching through the leather armor and forcing the tip deep into her back. She managed to take another heavy step forward before she felt another bolt lodge itself next to the first one followed by a third bolt higher than either of the first two. She could feel her breath shorten, and her limbs growing excessively heavy.

Her vision narrowed, the periphery growing dark. She took another step before she fell to her knee. She couldn't force her limbs to move any further. Running here and then defending the soldiers was too much. She didn't have any more strength to go on.

She could hear a loud rumble, and from nearby she could hear the sound of a commanding voice shouting out a command. "Hold the line!" She saw a shadow overtake her vision. The form was a silhouette and the features were blurring, but she felt a powerful hand pull her up, his gravel textured voice rumbled in her ears as she heard him speaking to the soldiers nearby. "If only I had more knights like this woman. Get her to a priest. She has done her duty. Now it is our turn…" Her eyes were too heavy and she couldn't see anything, she felt strong arms pick her up and carry her back through the ranks of soldiers, finally the sound of soldiers dimmed and the sound of a tent flap opening was all she could hear.

Inside the tent she could hear nothing for a good time, until finally a great clash of thunder pierced the silence, breaking the calm aura for a moment before once more the world drifted to silence, and darkness overtook her.

"Do you know who took command of the armies at Viura when we were pushed back?" Miluda asked Ramza as she finished telling her story.

"Count Cidolfas Orlandu? I was taught that his Knights led a valiant defense but was forced back when the army from Romanda joined the Ordalians."

"Correct. I didn't find out until after we were forced out of the capital. I call this scar "The gift of the Thunder God." I lost consciousness right after he pulled me into the ranks, but the soldiers told me that he single-handedly destroyed the archers that slaughtered so many of our soldiers after he had them carry me out."

"Did you ever speak to him?" Ramza asked, curious to her connection to the man.

"No. After the battle the command was transferred to Prince Denamda the Fourth. The Nanten didn't fight alongside the common army after that. They operated away from us."

"He's a kind man and a powerful knight. You must have impressed him greatly if he said that."

"I hope so. Though I doubt I'll be spending much time around Goltana's generals with the war going on." She answered him, chuckling lightly to herself as she thought about that concept.

A moment of silence passed between the two before it was broken by Ramza.

"You should get some rest. We'll be marching to Goug tomorrow, and we can't be sure if we'll be able to rest any once we get there." Ramza mentioned, thinking of the long day they had coming before he noticed a slight abnormality. "What happened to your blanketing?"

"I gave it to Boco; He'll need it in the rain out there." She answered, pointing over her shoulder in the general direction of the large bird.

"It's already getting cool out, you'll get sick." He replied to her.

"I'll be fine."

Ramza leaned back down to rest his head on the bundled shirt he was using as a pillow. After a moment of silence, he leaned back up. He could see she already was shivering slightly.

"Here" He offered, gesturing to the side of the blanket he'd brought. The rough cloth wasn't pretty but it was warmer than nothing at all.

She made to protest for a moment before accepting the offer and curling up next to him, already enjoying the added warmth of the blanket and the heat radiating from the young man next to her.

Had he been near anyone else, he would have found the situation awkward.

Together the two warriors found a peaceful slumber. Until the loud chirping of a certain chocobo awoke them while the sun was still hours away.