Chapter 35: Betrayed
Riding into the city brought back all the faint memories Ramza held of his previous visit. When Lord Father still lived. The whole family walked the streets. The knights, the guards, the commons. Every man, woman and child they passed knew who they were. Barbaneth Beoulve and his children! Bastards though half of them were none would challenge the Knight Gallant to his face.
Nothing so complex burdened his mind at the time. The people were nice because they were. The city was big and bright and new compared to Eagrose. Always some new trinket to stare at or sweet to convince Lord Father to buy. A fancy scarf or a gilded play sword. 'Twas a wondrous time for all.
The streets were packed enough that the procession forced uncomfortable mergings and clustering as they passed. All the joy Ramza remembered was replaced with bitterness and angry stares.
All the religious were trapped outside the city, it seemed.
The Celebrant led them to a Church nearby. He exchanged words with one of the priests—that grew more heated until an intense stare cowed the local man down. Something to be admired in any man who stood ground against the Inquisition for any length of time.
The clergy cleared the congregation out from the Church. Stabling their mounts, the Church forces entered.
"This shall be our house whilst he investigate the heretic's whereabouts," the Celebrant said as they settled in.
It was a modest dwelling and the previous occupants made themselves scarce.
"I will be meeting with Lord Commander Zalbaag Beoulve to bring this to his attention."
Ramza bristled at his lord brother's name.
"You two shall accompany me." He made indications to both officers.
"No," Ramza steadfastly refused. "'Tis too dangerous."
"Do you intend to speak to him?" The Celebrant gave a look that said any words said back would be a poor thing to do. "You are here to stand, be silent, and give enough credence that this heretic is a threat that it requires the Inquisition and Templarate to work together."
"So I speak if need be?" asked Isilud.
The Celebrant gave a small nod of his head at the question. "Come, we've little time to waste."
They could do with some rest, but there was no arguing with the man. Especially not now. 'Twas rather impressive that despite all the years he had on the young officers the old Celebrant seemed as spry as any recent akademy graduate.
On foot they truly made better time traveling Lesalia's streets. Little time was taken to chart their path through the waves of people and make entrance to the noble district. The higher class of guard stationed at the dividing gates also powerless to impede the progress of the Church.
Whence they followed streets up to the gates of the Royal Palace itself. From its position at the heart of the city, the great keep towered over every other building in the royal capital. Two dozen men and women safeguarded its unassailable gate. All the men clad in Northern Sky colors, whilst the woman bore the signet of the most honorable duty in Ivalice: the Lionsguard. The personal guard of the Royal Family itself.
But even the mighty Lionsguard could not impede the head of the Inquisition. Though the knights on duty resented it immensely they submitted, letting the Templars inside the grounds.
To the sides of the palace were a number of buildings for other services. Where Royal Attendants, Lionsguard and, for their purposes, Lord Brother Zalbaag held his command.
The halls they entered were passing familiar to Ramza. Upon a time the office they were being led to was occupied by Lord Father.
Even one of a pair of knights outside was familiar. Though the man was a great deal more gray than when last Ramza recalled, the Northern Sky knight served under his Lord Father for the war.
For the brief moments just outside that door Ramza's mind filled with every dire thought. A host of knights awaited the other side ready to drag him before the gallows. His lord brothers waited beyond, blade to Alma's neck to force him cooperate. Isilud and the Celebrant turned on him. Every manner of horror.
But they went in without incident. The usual exchange of titles broke the air and nothing out of the ordinary occurred. (If one ignored the peculiarities of the situation as a whole.)
Lord Brother Zalbaag sat at the head of the table. Three small chairs at the facing him. He bade the men sit.
The Celebrant had them stand whilst he took the seat opposite.
Ramza stared at his Lord Brother, the helmet's face shielding him from any scrutiny.
Zalbaag set his eyes on both men—Ramza quickly averted. He could not have noticed. Could not be piecing together the truths of who lay behind the helmet. Not even he was that skilled. Ramza had grown a tad since they last met. His posture stood straighter, his armor much thicker than his cadet's uniform.
But the surcoat he wore was damn-near the same shade of blue!
He'd bite his lip if it would not be noticed.
Yet if Zalbaag did make note of the color, he did not show it. 'Twas not wholly uncommon a color.
Zalbaag exchanged some light pleasantries with the Celebrant. All these months and his Lord Brother was the same. Did Tietra's life mean nothing to him?
"Now, if you'll excuse me for asking, Your Excellency, what business brings the Head of the Inquisition to Lesalia accompanied by two Templars?" Zalbaag's voice betrayed a hint of an edge Ramza had grown accustomed to hearing when annoyance gripped his Lord Brother's mind. Even if he was Devout, he still held his standards.
A damn pity they didn't apply to commons girl.
"Lord Zalbaag," the Celebrant addressed him his tired voice as even as he could make. "The business of the Inquisition is what it always has been. We have come to Lesalia to accomplish our duty. A heretic most foul hides within the Capital's walls and we have come to bring it to justice."
A slight, otherwise unnoticeable flaring of Zalbaag's nostrils preceded his answer. "Grim news, Your Excellency. To come during preparations for Ajorafest is the worst possible time."
"Any time is terrible if heresy is afoot."
"Of course, Your Excellency." Zalbaag leaned back in his chair. "I humbly request your discretion in pursuit of your foeman."
"Lord Zalbaag," the Celebrant's voice took a harsher tone, "this meeting was to inform you of our presence. Were it but any other man that held command they would not get the privilege."
The intent soured Zalbaag's face in a heartbeat. "Your Excellency, both the Inquisition and Templarate searching for this heretic would alert him to your search with great haste. I caution you to
"Lord Zalbaag, your concerns are noted. But the heretic we pursue is dangerous enough to form union between our two holy offices. He shall not be gifted enough leeway to escape our sight again."
Ramza could imagine the teeth grinding Zalbaag would do out-of-sight.
"I will… inform my knights as such, Your Excellency."
"Very good, Lord Zalbaag. There shall be nothing else, but if such comes, you shall be informed." The Celebrant gave a curt nod of his head before rising. "Go with the Grace of the Gods."
Their attempt to leave was interrupted by the old knight intruding. "Lord Commander," the knight addressed, "you've another visitor."
"Very well, my current guests were departing. Send them in."
"'Tis Lady Alma, m'lord."
Alma! Ramza's head snapped to the man without thinking.
Thankfully, Isilud followed suit to cover any suspicions.
If Zalbaag noticed he did not show it. He let out a frustrated sigh before answering. "Naught to do then. Allow her in."
The knight gave a nod before departing, returning shortly with Alma in tow.
Almost exact as he remembered her. Her soft, rounded features perked in surprise at her guests. Her rich blonde hair tied back in a pink bow. She gave a curtsy in her red-pink skirt to the departing clergy.
He wanted to rip off his helm and tell her everything. Drag her from Zalbaag's clutches to Mullonde. Keep her safe!
But he did nothing but turn and walk away.
The walk back was nothing but a miasma of regret and anxiety for Ramza. Isilud's attempts to cheer him failed utterly.
She was here to prepare for Ajorafest, of that he was certain. Alma was a cleric-in-training for the Church. She was like engaged in some service.
"I must say, the Lady Alma is quite a pretty girl."
Ramza blinked a view times to clear his vision. Recounted every word he just heard spoken. He'd been distracted and unclear. Truly Isilud wouldn't say such a thing. "Pardon?"
"Caught your attention now, have I?" Ramza could just imagine him grinning beneath his helmet.
The Celebrant was a good number of paces ahead, too far to overhear. "I mislike your implication, ser."
"Oh? Better she be bargained off to some dandy twice her age then?"
"Of course not."
"Come now, my friend," Isilud walked closer. "'Twas but a jest."
"Surely that makes it better."
Isilud gave an exaggerated sigh. "Would you like me to say she's a swarthy hag then?"
The glare Ramza gave him was somewhat muffled beneath the helmet but the other Templar got the intent well enough. "'Twould be so bad? Truly? Or do you trust her elder brothers more?"
"That is not it." Ramza accompanied it with a shake of his head. "How would you feel if I courted your sister?"
"Praise you for your fine eye before I blackened it of course!" Isilud heartily laughed.
Ramza found himself joining in for a bit.
"But levity aside," Isilud continued, "what shall you do for her?"
"I know not." Akademy and monasteries had kept them apart for so long. After fleeing as he did, was there any right to take her away?
"What say I do feign an interest in having her hand. Would her Devout Lord Brother reject a betrothal to the son of the Knights Templar?"
Alma and he were always bound to be wed to solidify blood ties and family fortunes. While the idea of finding someone to love was always a fancy, 'twas one he nevertheless harbored deep inside.
Mayhap the Templarate was a path to that, free of Beoulve shackles as he were.
But not free enough.
"Give me time to think."
Isilud nodded, and they continued on.
With their return to the Church, the Celebrant laid out his plans. Ramza would remain within the holy walls to act as a coordination whilst the Inquisitors and Templars searched the city.
That was well enough for him.
The Celebrant went further into the details of how they caught Ser Beowulf's trail and the indication of his goal. A tome of secrets cradled somewhere in the Royal Capital.
Any questions of "why" were shunted aside by the Inquisitor as irrelevant. Any attempt to point out knowing the tome would be helpful in located the heretic were branded useless.
When he was alone Ramza sighed in frustration at the obstructive Celebrant.
But he had his duty to fulfill.
A week, thought Ramza, it took a whole week to finally track him down.
When the Celebrant arrived on the morning Ramza was utterly flabbergasted when he revealed he'd finally found him.
Anti-Crown rebels had stolen away the tome the prior night,as the Inquisitor planned. His men trailed the arrogant fools (as he put it) back to their stronghold in the slums whereupon they confirmed the target.
With no honest men to consort with, the heretic had thrown his lot in with criminals to pursue his "deranged" intentions.
A quick round of discussion broke out about how best to approach and for once the Celebrant listened to the suggestions of others.
The Templars ran some quick recon, estimated the enemy forces and came up with a working plan.
Ser Beowulf was an accomplished swordsmen and tactician so they needed to strike with speed, surprise and remove him first.
There were no sentries, such would be cautious but draw attention. A heretic needed to be out of sight to survive.
The Celebrant layered his holy magicks upon them. Spells of protect, shell, regen, haste and even the mighty arise would bring the encounter further to their ends.
Everyone took to their positions. Isilud and O'Neal perched above a roof to catch any in retreat. Redford, Emerald, and Lambert took a frontal position with most of the Inquisitors (whose names Ramza never learned). Ramza was with them, whilst the remainder brought the rear with the Celebrant.
The door to the hovel was locked, but Redford's particular set of skills bypassed that blockaged. As silently as they could, they entered…
"Finally!" Beowulf slammed the book down, tearing apart some of its ancient parchment from sheer force. Minutes ago 'twould be foolish but he had what he needed now!
"Found your mark, I take it?" the man in charge of the ruffians Beowulf had aligned himself with spoke up.
"Two parts of my goal are met, yet the remainder elude me at present."
"Well and good for you then," the man mocked.
"My thanks for sheltering my men and I, but we must depart."
"A pleasure. You ever feel like helping more with taking down Luveria's corrupt regime we'll welcome you right back."
He had other corruption on his mind. "We'll see." Beowulf smirked and offered his hand—
"Enemy attack!"
Another man came running down the stairs panicked—silenced as an Inquisitor descended upon him.
"Dammit your stupid—"
His lips continued to move but no words came. Beowulf's attempts to respond were the same. A spell of silence!
He'd naght but sword skills to rely upon then!
Criminals and heretic knights rallied against the invading Inquisition—and Templars!
A familiar blue officer's tabard descended amongst the others. So these were Bremondt's executioners!
And Celebrant Zalmour to cover the rear. Might the Grand Master be lurking 'round corner as well?
Such thoughts were all amusement left as Beowulf joined in the carnage. His knights and the gang ruffians clashed quickly with the Church forces in the run-down basement.
Their opponents, who thought themselves so much the better broke back with surprise on their faces as the easy foemen they came to best did not falter. The gang leader had drilled these men into acceptable enough knights and stalked the streets of Lesalia under Lord Commander Zalbaag's eye. 'Twas not one to trifle with if he put his mind to it.
But they were still hastily trained with only a few months experience. Whence the Inquisitors and Templars regained composure they fought with an even greater ferocity. Any strikes Beowulf's men made did not leave lasting blood. Magickal effects for certain.
Beowulf joined in the fray just as the gang members were getting cut down. With his and the leader's aid the front stabilized for a second. Beowulf's sword lashed out and cut into the arm of a lightly-armored Inquisitor. But not nearly as deep as he hoped. 'Twas true. Could he speak he'd demand a retreat.
Some of the ruffians began to fall back out the other stairs, otherwise unused to be saved for this purpose.
Beowulf motioned for a fighting retreat and those who still could followed. A third his knights could not and half the gang.
Screams broke from behind, one of those fleeing falling back with an arrow lodged in his knee.
Dammit, they'd set a watch. Of course they would! Fool he was not to think it sooner!
Beowulf put a renewed effort into fighting. His sword slipping past his Templar foeman's guard, stabbing into a gap in armor. The Templar fell back bleeding.
The Officer stepped forward to meet his steel.
The Lugria boy was fast and accurate with his strikes. Whilst every move Beowulf attempted was countered or evaded. He was reliant enough against the slavers yet he'd improved this much!
Beowulf attempted a feint around the boy's guard, but he saw right through it and pinned his sword aside with his shield. He kicked the shield away, but it left him vulnerable to a stab from Lugria. Beowulf stepped to the side, but it still grazed him.
He slammed his arm tight around the overextended arm and trapped the Templar. His own sword swung around, but could only clatter against the boy's greaves after a block from his shield.
Lugria struggled to pull back, blocking slash after slash with his shield. Beowulf struck, and switch, sending a kick and knocking Lugria off-balance—open! Beowulf swung his sword at the helmeted head!
Lugria fell back intentionally, dragging Beowulf down on top of him.
Reckless, but it gave him enough leverage to push the former Gryphon off, roll away and recover on his feet.
It but reset their duel.
It did not do the same for the rest.
Beowulf's allies were being cut down, only three Church hunters down in response.
The gang leader rushed past Lugria. His sword raised to strike down the Celebrant nearby!
Lugria turned, thrust upwards, impaled the man straight through his heart.
"Damn!" the leader somehow eked out as he went limp.
Lugria petrified.
Seeing his chance Beowulf moved to strike but the swords of two others blocked his way. One that would be an allied knight. His eyes were foggy gray, and his movements sluggish. More magical confusion.
"Snap out of it!" Beowulf yelled.
'Twas not enough.
Last man standing as he was encircled…
No! No, no, no, no, no!
Ramza pulled free his blade.
'Twas the sound most deafened and changed and sheer coincidence! 'Twas not a voice he recognized!
He held the bleeding, dead body of the man he just slew. Pulled helmet free.
"Fulke!"
Author's Notes: Well that checks one generic off the list.
Thank you all for reading and have a lovely day.