Chapter 51: Southern Cross and Northern Cross

Travel south to Lionel would take two days departing Zaland. Halfway there, upon the hills of the Balias Tor, they were accosted by another set of thugs employed by the Baert Trading Company.

Bolder than their captured compatriots, not a one of them surrendered. Outside a city's limits they could escape with none the wiser to their attack. Armor of fine make adorned them, and the considerable magickal might of two summoners bolstered their offense. Aided in turn by the steep mountain terrain they stood sentinel atop.

'Twas a fight close-in, grim and dirty. One of the Gryphons (whose name Delita never learned) fell beneath the esper Ifrit's monstrous flames. But Gryphon resolve and training, with Ser Cadmus's tactical ingenious, brought them a victory marked with burn wounds and sword cuts aplenty.

Wounds were mended by half-skilled white magicks, yellow chocobo innate magicks, and chemist potions. None could break however, the fever Delita found himself suddenly set by.

Clear, of course, the aftermath of being dragged in water's current 'til days end. Miracle enough he was alive, he'd not lambast such small price for failure. The large price of separating from Her Highness and Ramza however…

The Baert goons they'd escorted remained silent even upon seeing more comrades cut down. No matter how much they were prodded their lips remained sealed. Dire fate awaited them in Lionel, but better one than dead men.

With bodies laid to proper rest they were back on mount for fair distance before night's camp. No one wanted to sleep next to the dead if it could be helped.

His fever worsened on the next day's morning. Every move he took sluggish and fatigued. He'd fought under worst conditions.

Even still, the gates of Lionel Castle were a welcome relief to have actual bedrest. The Baert prisoners were led off to the dungeon whilst Beowulf, Mustadio and Delita all took audience with Cardinal Delacroix.

The man was much the same as Delita met him last. Save maybe an extra crease around his features.

Inside the small, almost impoverished room, pleasantries were exchanged and Ser Cadmus gave his report on the situation with both other men confirming it.

Thus came the reason for Mustadio's pursuit by the Baert Company. Auracite.

His Eminence brought forth the illustrious glow of the Scorpio stone to the relief of the young machinist. He placed the red stone shaped somewhat like a circle on the table before them. "You have seen a stone alike this beneath Goug, have you not?"

The young man, almost as pale as Delita now, nodded. "The machines of Goug have long since lost the fire that powers them. But bits and pieces remain, some well enough that whence the stone passes nearby they hum and stir with life renewed."

"Then mayhap his search for the stone may be in some way connected to these lost mysteries."

"He's taken my father hostage to coerce the stone's local from me."

"Your Eminence," said Beowulf, "I request permission to lead a company of men to apprehend Ludovich Baert."

"I must decline, Captain," said the Cardinal to the shock of all others.

"Your Eminence?"

"A company of Gryphons headed by their Captain will draw suspicious eyes. Ludovich might remove his leverage and plead innocence, if he even remains in-city" he spoke a certain wisdom. "No, this must be done with subtle touch. Secure the hostage first and confirm his guilt with more than one pair of eyes. I mean no offense to your claims, young Mustadio, but the Baert Company's public image shines like the sun. Tedious legal documentation and defamations of character may be all that await you with lone support."

The news troubled the man into silence.

"Ser Herial," the Cardinal suddenly addressed him. "I'm assigning you to be leader of a small team to lend covert aid to this young man."

Delita blinked a few times in surprise before answering, "Me? Your Eminence? Surely there are better candidates within the Gryphons numbers?" He knew entirely why he was being sent. If by some devilish chance a Lucavi showed itself once more, he was the only one with experience in such matters. But better off sending a full company for that.

"I agree with Ser Herial's self-assessment," added Beowulf. "To make no light of his skills, he fought well whilst beset by illness and fever. But we've men of little renown aplenty in our ranks. More than enough to aid Mustadio without imposing further upon Ser Herial."

His Eminence gave a slow nod at their resistance to the idea. "Very well, you've made your case. Beowulf, assemble a small team, five, six men max, to accompany Mustadio back to Goug."

"Thank you, Your Eminence!" The machinist bowed deep enough to nearly bang his head on the table.

The cardinal turned his attention to the thankful machinist. "No, thank you, young man, for bringing this to our attention. It's only because of virtuous men like yourself that Lionel can function."

"Y-you're too kind, Your Eminence," Mustadio stammered out.

"I am kind enough, now, you should get some rest before you depart," he advised, before facing Delita once more. "I've a small discussion with Ser Herial I'd have in private."

The other two men gave their acknowledgement, while Beowulf seemed somewhat perplexed by the arrangement, he remained the loyal knight (even after the Church was not-so-loyal).

With but the two of them in the room (and with assurances of no eavesdroppers), the cardinal asked the heavy question. "What happened?"

He'd every day since being dragged into the journey south to come to a lie. And he gave it good. He retold the truths first: the kidnapping, the lose of chocobo, and the fight at the bridge. His orders were to mislead Ramza and seperate, taking Her Highness towards Besselat alone. But Delita informed the cardinal that he'd managed to convince Ramza of the validity of their plan. The better world for Ivalice that would ensue with the Church's stewardship.

The Cardinal nodded along, asking a light question here and there. Questioning the depths of Delita's retelling. But by the end of it, Delita was confident the Cardinal bought the lie.

"Ramza will either come to Zaland, or try and circle around north," said Delita. "I should meet with him as soon as possible. He does not have the connections in the Southern Order that I do."

"No," the cardinal shook his head with the refusal, "you are the only man trustworthy enough should the worst come to past."

A chill ran along his spine. His whole body felt pressured just remembering the fight. Bits of metal were still fused into his chest. And the fever made it all the worse.

"Though, I would underscore the chances of that. Baert is a man that works for us."

A fair surprise. But if the connection between a man accused of slaving was linked to the Church the reputation would plummet faster than a diving bird. "For what purpose does the Church consort with criminals?"

"Control, of course," the Cardinal answered like it was a young child's question. "Oh, do not mistake us, we've long attempted to root out ne'er do wells like Baert, but no matter how many we put to the gallows more just rose. People want what they can't have: in legal, they want power, gil and highborn art. Through the illegal they want opium, their enemies silenced and those forced to bend their every whim."

So the Church's rule, should it come about, would be no better than any other. Was the Cardinal even aware the hypocrisy which he spoke?

"But let one man rise to the top, take it all under his banner, and you have control. Where the drugs, foreign wines and other such black objects go. Limit them, earn wins. Funnel the money they do make into positive benefits like charities."

War of a different kind.

"Baert has been, most useful, to this point." But the Cardinal's blank expression spoke the opposite. "We've already replacements lined, should his heart give way from his decadence, or a knife through it. And he's well run his course. Letting that young man escape is an embarrassment, frankly."

"A pistol is a well-strong weapon," said Delita. "I'm sure more than enough of Baert's thugs learned that lesson."

The Cardinal nodded. "Barich, may he rest in peace, always advocated their use. Mayhap his words have more merit than we realized if but one could give so many difficulty."

"What would you have me do, Your Eminence?"

"We'll play both angles here. Saviour and villain. I've sent a trusted messenger to Baert. He'll bring the stone straight to my hands, should he grasp it. Stay by Mustadio, and retrieve it from him should anything poor happen. Use your best discretion, Herial."

Chance remained that Baert could betray them. Or by some chance the Cardinal had his doubts of Delita's motives. A way to test loyalties, or remove misplaced ones. "You've my word, Your Eminence. But I must bring to mind my worry of the worst making its fearsome visage returned."

"You would have us stop digging through Goug for this time?" He posed the question. "Progress is not brought by measures always safe."

"Progress digging through the wreck of a civilization that destroyed itself."

The cardinal loosed a surprising laugh. "I almost worry that I should accompany this excursion. Having a stone to seal away should one rise would be valued."

Another surprise from the cardinal. But the man was not a war hero for delicate sensibilities. "Mayhap scorpio in my hands?"

The cardinal's hands were a flash as he took the stone back. "No, no, the stone Mustadio speaks of should be there." His face contorted defensive and almost spiteful.

Quite possessive, wasn't he? "I understand, Your Eminence."

"Good, good." Welcome relief washed away the foulness broaching him. But he looked all the more weary for it. "Once this matter is settled we'll have you back towards the Black Lion in no time. Mayhap with some illustrious trust placed more upon your shoulders."

That meant… Delita repeated his words above. Dismissed followed, with the Cardinal motioning to inform Ser Cadmus.

He couldn't let the Church think him untrustworthy so soon. He had to do this.

The bed Delita was eventually led to was warm and comfortable like little else he'd experienced in his life.

Delita's fever didn't break on the next morning. If anything, it persisted worse than usual. Simply leaving the confines of his bed proved a tremendous task.

Breakfast was some thick porridge along with plenty of water and a visit from a full-time professional chemist. He was given a foul-tasting medicine to take on the morrow.

Six Gryphons, Mustadio and himself were arranged to head westwards towards Goug. Gathered in a set of fine mythril kit (unadorned of any Gryphon insignias), and chocobos well-stocked on provisions. Mustadio greeted him with a cheery grin and some more thanks.

Delita was given command of the squad. Being a Templar sergeant wowed the otherwise untested Gryphons. Each of them just old enough to come free of whatever akademy the Gryphons tested under. 'Twas not so long ago he looked up with such hopeful eyes.

Their skills were fair, as to be expected from people Ser Cadmus specifically selected. The squad would have a good range of combat effectiveness in melee, range or magic.

Those were put to the test when they encountered monsters on their way to Goug.

The Tchigolith Fenlands were a poisonous marsh wetted deep black water from the blood of all those slain during the Fifty Years' War. Ghostly and skeleton undead barred their path west, along with a floating eye.

Mustadio's pistol was a great boon in the ensuing battle. Its bullets pinning skeletons fording the river to pace. The waters so powerfully foul that even undead horrors were wracked with its poisons.

The flying eye and the ghosts meanwhile, soared above the dangerous fens without care. Blade and spell were aimed at them as they made attack on the church line.

Scattered monsters could do naught against well-prepared fighters and it did not take long to put the undead down. The horrors would eventually return to this world without a proper exorcism to banish them, but Delita and company's travels had them saddling back west in little time.

Upon camping on less-tepid ground, their bodies were examined for cuts and infections. A few had scraps, which bode worry for the next day's mission. Delita's fever continued to burn, nearly dragging him into the grim muck of the fenlands twice.

The bridge leading to the isle Goug was situated on was a welcome relief and the eventual foray into the city proper was more so. Men and women garbed similar to their machinist escort dotted the streets at every corner. Mechanical wonders sold in street vendors. Pistols, unloaded Mustadio assured, were hung for display and effect. Small windmill blades were attached to every few houses. The Clockwork City of Goug was unlike any other city in Ivalice.

Few paid notice to their company as they rode in and made arrangements for stables and rooms.

Mustadio bid him outside shortly after the basic necessities were settled. A fading day's sun set the city of machines orange as they walked along a stone bridge.

"I don't see anyone from Baert," said Mustadio. "This passes strange, his men throttled the city whence I left…"

"Mayhap he retreats to Warjilis?" The base of the Company's power.

Mustadio's lips tightened into a thin line. "Best I scout the city to be sure."

"Better to group than separate further," offered Delita.

"Yes…" Mustadio absently replied. "'Twould be easier to search independently."

Seemed no chance to change his mind. "Where then should we meet?"

Mustadio pointed south. "The lowtown at night's onset. We'll be away from untrustworthy eyes that way."

Some measure of pride prevented the local man from proclaiming them slums. "Your father's description, should I perchance find someone claiming him myself?"

"Oh, of course." Mustadio gave a simple rundown. Mustache, longish hair more orange than brown. Walked with a cane and a limp.

"Stay safe."

The two parted ways.

Back at the inn, Delita gave the conversation's details to the squad and set them about to gather information of their own. He joined them after taking in dinner.

They found nothing but rumor. Baert had pulled his company men from town. Even the local branch office was closed. But every so often, a person would say someone matching the company's boss's description was seen recently.

It did not bode fortunate.

Still beset by a fever, thought breaking, Delita rounded the squad up and led them to the lowtown.

The base splendor of the main city was falling apart in its own unique take on a city slums. Crumbling stone buildings, rickety wooden shacks propped against them. More buildings with curtains for a door than proper wood and some not even that luxury. Every so often light broke from glass windows and cracked boards and worn stone. Peculiar the most were those reinforced with metal, and a windmill toppled over that still moved in the wind.

Atop the ruined windmill, and by night's glow, rain began to fall softly.

"This passes wrong," Delita said to the squad. "Fan out, ready yourselves for combat." Mustadio may well have been captured. Or worse.

The Gryphons hidden in drab green coloring took positions around the slanted building.

"Mustadio bought a good deal many men, eh?" A man's voice that could be mistaken for a pig's came from upon a nearby structure.

Delita turned eyes to the tower of shacks circling upwards around a stone chimney at their center. Standing atop it, was a man who looked near as ill as Delita, but many years elder and with so many chins they'd formed one bulbous mass. He looked the picture perfect of a decadent noble. Forest green robes, embroidered with shimmering gold of so fine a make the whole of lowtown could not even be a tenth their cost. His graying hair was meticulously combed over to give off an air of refinement and his beady little eyes acted like daggers.

Two woman archers with bows ready and notched came to the man's left. He was doubtless Ludovich Baert.

"I underestimate the low-going price of Lionel's sellswords, it seems," the man continued. "Bring him forth."

At his word, a green-capped thief dragged a beaten and bloody Mustadio forth into the rain.

"Looks like… like, I messed up, sorry," Mustadio spat out with lips leaking blood.

Delita looked back at Baert. "Where's his father?"

"So demanding." Baert snapped his fingers and another green-capped thief came bearing the other Bunansa.

"Father!"

Besrudio Bunansa was not the mess his son was, but 'twas clear his imprisonment was harsh. The man holding him did more work to keep him upright than the senior's own legs.

"D-don't tell them anything…" the mustached man choked out.

"I'm a reasonable man," Baert lied. "Simply give me the stone, and this can just all, go away."

The Gryphons were ready to go. White magicks could be thrown at the Bunansas. The wind and rain would throw off the archers' aims. This could be over quickly. Were he not to let the man go.

Baert's patience thinned. "Oh, do we need to open some more holes here?" The thieves drew knives to necks.

Mustadio's eyes went wide at his father's predicament. "Delita," instead he addressed him, "at your feet, there's a chimney. The stone lies within."

"Don't do it, son!"

Good, good, they could all get out of this alive. Delita nodded and followed the instructions. From within the wet and sooty stack he pulled free a gemstone.

One that was very clearly not authentic auracite to Delita's eyes. It posessed none of the peerless luster that cancer or scorpio did. It shone yellow, and the symbol of taurus was chiseled into the horn-shaped stone.

Delita suppressed a little smirk. Delivering another stone personally would reaffirm his value in the Church's eyes. Mustadio would have it elsewhere.

Delita returned to the highest point atop the slanted, broken windmill. Above, Baert looked down with the delight a fat man did at seeing his favorite meal.

"Release them first," demanded Delita.

"This is not your transaction, boy," Baert spat down in contempt. "The stone first, then they go free."

They were his only leverage. Baert did not have the numbers in view to simply fight for the stone. "Knives down and them set halfway to our side. I've no trust those knives return to sheathes otherwise."

"You slander my good name sirrah!"

"You are the one with hostages."

The blatantly obvious accusation replaced the pale face with one red and flush. "They shall stand at roof's edge and my men a dozen paces back. You will toss me the stone and then they may go free."

The drop at that point was about Mustadio's height, an acceptable distance. Though the limping father may find it more difficult.

"Agreed."

The Bunansas were set as instructed, with the Baert green-caps back, and out of view entirely.

Delita gave them comforting nod before tossing the false auracite at Ludovich. Against expectations, the fat-fingered man actually caught the gemstone with no difficulty. His eyes stared deep into the stone.

"Wonderous," he spoke and dispelled any notion he caught the deception. "A true Zodiac Stone at last! I'll have the world as mine own after this. Deal with them."

Throwing away lives to keep the part played. Disgusting.

Baert moved retreat as swiftly as his girth could. The Bunansas made their leap forward towards Delita and Gryphons with Baert knives narrowly missing their back. Enemy arrows rained down but naught but water struck them as they hobbled into cover. Where Baert vanished, came two summoners clad in wide green cloaks and red horns banded around their temple.

A fight that could be avoided with ease, made to bloody men who nonetheless did deserve death.

"White magicks to the Bunansas," Delita hastily ordered and one Gryphon went to it. "Summoners first with all you may muster." Facing esper Ramuh in the rain would spell their doom quick as the lightning it cast. "Cover the Bunansas the rest of you."

The Gryphons proceeded with all due haste. Delita and two leapt into the middle ground between the buildings. Their aim, the summoners. Black magick casted the swifter between the two disciplines, but 'twould not be enough on its own. Holy Sword was to tip the balance.

Magicks in his blade were loosed and up above struck the two clumped summoners in Judgement Blade's faux-ice. Real ice and lightning enacted a follow up and came two deathrattles right after.

The most pressing danger death, Delita turned their attention to the archers. Those with the Bunansas could best two well-armed thieves through sheer numbers.

Arrows loosed once more and blessed by the God of luck for one found its way through rain and wind and armor to Delita's hip.

This would just make the fever ever the worse…

The Gryphons rushed the stack the archers were perched upon. Swords the superior to bows proven easy.

A glance back saw the thieves down as well.

Victory at little a price.

Delita limped over to the white mage and had the arrow pulled and wound closed. The Bunansas were the worse for the wear, but the rain was steadily washing away the blood.

"We should reach shelter," said Mustadio pointing to one of the shanties nearby.

A quick jaunt inside. It was small, cramped and leaked but it did not have rain falling directly on their heads. Two of the Gryphons manned the door, one tended to the injured and the rest milled about on a watch.

"Are you alright?" Mustadio asked his father.

"My wounds are healed, thanks to your friends here. Whom are they?"

"Gryphons," said Delita.

"Thank the Cardinal!" The elderly Bunansa prayed. "But I would think more of you to uncover Baert's duplicity than this?" Delita explained the Cardinal's misgivings about Besrudio surviving should a whole company of Gryphons descend upon the town. "But for my life Baert now has the auracite." He frowned. "Even the full strength of the Church would be hard-pressed to battle against Cataclysm machines."

Delita nodded. He'd first-hand experience he'd not like to repeat.

Mustadio snickered.

The unsituational noise drew looks of ire from the Gryphons.

From the folds of his clothes the machinist drew forth a stone.

The true taurus stone.

Its luster was undeniable and even held in gloved hand Delita could spy the inscribed symbol within. Mustadio had made a convincing enough fake.

"They'll find little use in a fake such as that."

"Well done," Delita complimented him. "Were Baert's goons so incompetent not to search your person?" He lacked his firearm, but…

"I'd hidden a number of fakes around the area," he gleefully answered. "With the real one amongst them."

Plan became ever the clearer. "Excellent, a fake may not be evidence has solid as true, but we find less chance of fighting men of metal with it in his grasp."

But, what now?


The entourage of the Princess journeyed north under the miserable conditions that beset them. The Lionsguard did their best to provide comfort for their lady's needs, but three thin cloaks were not proper bedding. All the camping supplies had been destroyed and all sleep was with full exposure to nature's elements.

All the worse that the Lionsguard refused to let him speak. They tolerated his presence as an unfortunate necessity, and that was it. They even spoke rare amongst themselves when he could overhear. It took him two days to finally put face and name of all the Lionsguard together.

Agrias was their captain. A Holy Knight, skilled, and entirely loyal to her lady. She never let Her Highness out of her sight, unless it could not be helped. She had watches and patrols set quickly and effectively for so few women under her command.

Lavian was the second here, and the one who supported the idea heading east under the "Lucavi's advocate" role. That did not convert into friendliness with him, however. When she prepared their meals with a bit of flavor his was always excluded.

Alicia was set as the forward scout as they headed north. She seemed to have a good head for maps and terrain, and more often than not their sleep locales were as dry and safe as off-path could be. Besides Her Highness, she was given the most active rest.

Annabelle, the one he poorly bartered with in Orbonne, shot him glares at every opportunity she had. He almost worried he'd find a sword at his throat mid-night.

Each of them were some manner of long and blonde-haired, as most nobility of Ivalice was. Agrias's was braided together, as were Her Highness's. Annabelle's was a bit shorter, more reddish and she herself was the lowest in height, being half a hand below Lavian. The rest were near as tall as Ramza himself. Their armors were a better indicator, each having unique scars from their clash with the Northern Order.

For all his concerns, they'd yet to depart without him. Some small, small comfort.

It took three days traveling safe and away from Northern Sky patrols to make it north of the Besselat Lake. The Fusse Plains and the Fusse River were what separated the territories of central Lesalia and eastern Limberry on maps of Ivalice. They'd be patrolled by both Orders and neither were their allies at the moment.

Under Alicia's guidance, they reached the river's banks. Winter had not yet yielded to spring, even if Aries had turned into the second month of Taurus. Cold winds swept over the grassy, gently sloping plains tinged with the river's rapids.

The river's depths were well out of sight and frankly far too dangerous for anyone to swim across.

As he was about to raise point of his dragoon skills, another man's voice too dangerously familiar spoke first.

"I'd thought this a crossing east viable but not this configuration."

Ramza's blood froze colder than a blizzaja spell. He turned to face the man revealing himself from whatever hill he hid behind.

Zalbaag Beoulve approached.


Author's Notes: It took a lot of restraint not to just name this Black Southern Cross.

Asahar4: Thank you for your Review. That's refreshing to hear. That kick review seems to have gotten me some good focus. And this Review here is what kicked me to add the Ramza part here instead of letting this lie solely as a Delita Chapter.

Thank you all for reading and have a insightful day.