Chapter 10: Sword in Hand...
Their amalgamation of work drew the confused look of every Northern Sky knight they passed on the way, and certainly did Cletienne revel in why. Two Templars carrying a man shielded in white sheet, three men and a woman carrying a fifth, and two Templars with their swords on said five others.
"I think we've made quite the impression on the Northern Sky," he cheerfully said.
"Not one I'd relish," said Meliadoul.
"What ever do you mean?"
"Do not play the fool with me, Ser Cletienne Duroi. You could have handled that with less glib a tongue."
"Were my words not truth?"
She sent a scowl his way. "A grandstanding truth feigned to instigate. Gods must have helped you quiet any thought about worsening it with Lord Father's name."
A lip of laughter tore from the Corpse Brigade ranks. "What wondrous farce this is, we shepherd man on back while you bemoan petty bickering. Nobles are all disgusting, serving God or no."
"The same?" Cletienne sent a smile back, "Why my good ser, I think us cut from a rather different cloth considering Northern Sky would have your heads rolling by now." And the guard escort certainly looked ready to see it through.
"Gariland, Mullonde or Gaillione—little matter to us where out heads roll."
"You would not believe we mean to keep your heads attached then."
"Rot us away in gaol? Hang us from high? Or mayhap run us through with lance instead? Any option be done with whatever our fate and spare us your false hope of clemency beforehand. I'd sooner believe Saint Ajora a Lucavi than we see a week's worth of sunrises."
He sighed. Little to be gained in arguing with Dead Men, less so with Corpse Brigade and none with those resolved to die. But fair warning would be offered. "Do not lend weight to thought of running. Our exchanges make it clear enough how futile such would be."
"What do you know of futile you privileged brat? Did you fight in Zelmonian muck and face a hundred men with a dozen truesworn companions? Or did you sit home, warm and safe, as men of Ivalice died in foreign lands all so one man could call himself King of two lands?"
"Were the Dead Men not volunteers?"
"And we fought the same as every able-bodied knight we saw. But they receive coin because their capes were clean while ours banded with moth-bitten cotton. When we make plain our discontent we are suddenly the villains, to be put down like Ordallian dogs." The thief's mouth ran aquiver with rage. "When men of the right birth swing their swords 'tis for 'good and just cause' no matter how many fall bloody beneath those blades. I saw Eastern Sky knight toss infants a-score to a mighty blaze and after war's end he sips wine in a manse waited by three-score servants. Tell me Templar, where the Gods' love is for children crying for fathers and mothers put to death for holding pitchforks?"
Quite the tongue on this one. Mayhap he missed his calling as an orator. True, the thief cared none true for Ordallian sons, but such scorn and bitterness in his voice could be a most potent venom for queen's ears...
"You speak more bitter than you are," Cletienne accused them. "You could have cut it all and ran, yet you wear your colors and carry your fellow's burden still."
The thief coughed out a laugh. "You have not seen the depths of my bitterness, Templar. I will show you such when I am clad in Mullonde's guillotine."
Defiant to the end. This man would be an excellent addition to the High Confessor's plans. For now though, Cletienne prepared himself for Ramza's stop. "But not so defiant as to make the stand at Ziekden Fortress. Save the one of you."
Ramza did stop short, and prepared as he was, Cletienne did as well. Delita did not fall. Their whole convoy halted, as the Corpse Brigade's anger flared.
"'Twas obvious to see, where else but the fort's burning would such wounds come? While he fought, the lot of you ran. Luck blesses cowards it seems, for you to find your compatriot's body smoldering in snow."
"We fought to the end!" the thief screamed. "Not even Zalbaag Beoulve would doubt our courage."
More the like to lament their idiocy. Now the time to strike... "So, Wiegraf Folles yet lives, does he?"
Bolt-stricken did his Templars look; a wash of fear and loathing across Corpse faces. "Ha! You think we tell you his fate? Scour high and low for a man neither confirmed living or dead. Waste gil enough to feed a family a year for the smallest ember of rebellion."
"How much would your swords fetch?" he posed the question. "A thousand gil? Abandon them, strip armor and you would yet have enough to last a year as well."
"Lay down our arms and die when some noble comes seeking bloodsport."
"Better rise and die." Yes, this man would be most useful indeed. The cardinal would delight at having such a man at his beck and call. "And it has led you naught."
"Bah," the thief spat. "I tire of these games. I would sooner my ears be split than listen to your circuitous drivel anymore."
"So be it."
Their march continued without incident. Any time it seemed the Corpse Brigade might dare slip away, Meliadoul or Isilud had it covered. Though it took well into sun's set for them to reach the port, they arrived before it dipped below horizon.
They oversaw transfer of the prisoners up and into the ship's brig, before bringing Delita to the ship's sickbay. As much as it was the better condition, the ship's surgeon and his room smelled of brimstone and it forced leave from the Tengilles.
Laid to rest, Ramza took seat by his friend's side.
Ship lurched, and another voyage was underway.
"I suppose reminding you that he'll receive the best care short of the king himself will do little to comfort you, still, if by the slightest sliver of a chance may his life be saved it will be because you found him."
The Beoulve drew no comfort and barely offer a grunt response.
So be it. Let manners die for no reason! Cletienne turned towards the surgeon, the only man on-board who didn't have eyes darkened by working a full-day's hours in shifts getting the ship sailing. "Take care of them both."
"'Tis my job."
He left the station, brimstone replaced by the salty air of the sea. Tengilles on deck, hurriedly gossiping over their first victory. Armor already peeled aside, they learned quickly, as one would expect from the grand master's scions.
"Revel in it," he said as he approached them, drawing their attention quick. "Take pride in any victory but especially this one. Rare a fight without dead on the ground."
"We'll be ready for when that happens," said Meliadoul. "I have honed my arts to a sheen in anticipation."
"And well we needed them," said Isilud. "Ramza's plan was well, but still not absolute."
"Let this be a lesson: You can never plan for everything. Isilud, you were correct with there being an additional man, but him being incapacitated was not known. Though the fault lies at my feet for that." Or the Northern Sky who said only "four".
They nodded. Meliadoul spoke. "As we bear witness with Ramza's friend accompanying us."
"I've never seen him more distraught," said Isilud. "Nor seen, and forgive me for this, a noble bemoan a commoner so such. Even, ahem, a bastard." He shifted at the uncomfortable truth.
"Has Loffrey and his diastase for 'sers' not already stricken such thoughts from you?"
"I near no claim of superiority over my birth, Ser Cletienne!" Isilud did retaliate. "I simply speak truths, as you did."
It was wonderful when they learned. Alfredo could teach swordplay 'til Saint Ajora returned but words were far from her forte. "It is said that Barbaneth Beoulve himself was a man—champion to the commons. As is his sword friend: Lord Cidolfus Orlandeau. If this Delita's friendship is as true as Barbaneth's and Cid's, it is small wonder he reacts as such regards of rank and title."
"You would compare a common man to a man called Thunder God?"
"I see a man who nearly magicked himself to death trying to aid a friend. Barbaneth once fought through three hundred men single-handily to break a path clear for Cid's forces to retreat. He is his father's son for any man he calls true friend."
"I think four men beyond him considering his need of us," Isilud wryly smiled. "Though I believe you exaggerate, I shall... keep an open mind on this."
"The Gods cannot love a closed heart." Even as they chaffed under Lord Father's name they still wore it with pride and station that needed to be humbled if they were to be Braves.
"Love?" said Meliadoul. "Mayhap love is when you care more for another than yourself."
Cletienne couldn't help a smile at such excellent words. "Love for commons, love for Father and Brother and Sister. Is it not wonderful?" He threw his arms wide. "What more reason do we need that the Gods smile upon us?"
"It is not my place to say otherwise. But is it naught but common chance that the two were reunited? There were any number of churches for him to lay, for you to pray, or for Corpse Brigade to stay."
He shook his head. "Are either of you aware, that every church is associated with the zodiac, as we people are?"
"I believe I've heard of this, yes."
"What then, would you say, was the sign of Saint Elmo?"
"I have naught an idea. Capricorn?"
"Gemini?" Isilud guessed.
"Correct, Isilud," Cletinne answered. Correct Tengille smiled; wrong Tengille did not flinch in disappointment. "Your signs, if I recall. Latter mine as well."
"So," said Meliadoul, "you pray at churches bearing your sign?"
More than that. He clutched hand to chest. They would learn no matter the course. None around them so much glanced in their direction, and under fading light he pulled it out.
They gasped at its holy radiance. Amethyst in color, formed of two diamond shapes wedged together along their flats and bearing the inscription of "Gemini" on its middle.
"By the Gods..." Meliadoul gasped. "A Zodiac Stone?"
"I thought the cardinal's Scorpio the only one remained in Church possession?" Isilud asked, as he, too, stared in awe.
"'Til I arrived 'twas so. I spoke of mother devout, yes? So, when I first laid my eyes upon this stone seven years' past I gazed the same as you do now."
Their faces ran flush with new pride at the holy auracite of the Gods before them. "Are there any others?"
"Loffrey bears Capricorn, though the whys and hows of it I am not privy too. All Templars know the cardinal's stone, but not the specifics of its acquisition in Zeltennia. But alas, the other nine remain lost to us." He returned gem to its resting place in tabard. Their eyes lost their light at it, but remained focused. "A Gemini bearing Gemini in a Gemini Church? I do not believe in coincidences when I have the Gods' own artefact in my pocket."
"Whence did you find it?" Isilud asked, so eager to hear. "Was it that church?"
Cletienne shook his head. "During my short tenure at the Akademy for the Magick Arts I investigated the works of Elidibus."
"The famed mage of the Fifty Years' War?" asked Meliadoul. "The one that vanished without trace?
"The very same. His theories and tomes had been raided many times over the years, but when I searched through his works I discovered an overlooked secret. A sheltered hall hosting his deepest mysteries and secrets, and among them: Gemini."
It struck an odd chord with Meliadoul, and the elder Tengille grimaced. "Did Lord Father have a hand in his disappearance?" Isilud snapped his face towards her, but said nothing.
"It is Church decree that all artefacts of Saint Ajora's life be found and returned to the Church if retrieved. But the Fifty Years' War begat many men never found and secrets never uncovered. The Western Sky's disappearance, the fires at the salt flats, the strange lights of Nelveska Temple. History flows with mysterious events we cannot feign imagine. What remains of the Holy Empire of Ydora underneath the Black Coral Sea? Does the line of the Hero-King Mesa still flow? Does Serpentarius exist?" Ah, his excitement was boiling over but he did not care! Let caution be swept away in sea breezes and night falling upon them! "Where men of the crown concern themselves with the knight across the border who should be his brother, we solve the great mysteries of history. I hold a very piece of fact that Saint Ajora lived."
His exuberance was only shared in part by the Tengilles, but at least it wasn't Northern Sky Knights falling to their knees in laughter fueled by ignorance.
"I don't think I shall ever share such passions, Cletienne," said Meliadoul, who smiled. "I simply see the happiness plain upon your face, and I am glad for that."
Such a kindness she did share with her father. How he worried so when he brought Gemini before the Knights Templar, balking his own father's concerns to do so. Now though, a Templars's mantle rested upon him, and soon enough a Brave's title.
"That is enough excitement for all, for any day, come, let us rest and awaken to home."
"Do you think Ramza will join us for training, tomorrow?" Isilud asked his sister.
"I do not think even Alfredo can tear him from Delita's side."