Chapter 1: The Defender of Igros
Misery in spades hung over the camp like Lucavi's bitter mistress herself. Hollow eyes of beaten soldiers watched the dancing flames, the trickle of smoke swirling up into the heavens, where each and every one of them longed to go. They longed for the fighting to stop. This, the Ivalice Death Corps, was the reincarnation of Weigraf's wonderful ideal, an ideal that now looked empty and mocking. Weigraf had been a great man and even he had not been able to realize the will of the Death Corps.
Rumor had it that Weigraf had joined the church and forsaken all he held dear, but there was very little proof of this. Those who said that were only trying to tarnish a great thinker's reputation. Lord Hyral didn't want anyone thinking Weigraf could be half as good as he, and so the monarch tried to ruin the reputation of the enemy. More believable rumor said an assassin sent by Lord Hyral silenced Weigraf to keep him from starting a revolution.
That was what the soldiers believed, and to them that was the truth. Looking through the shrubbery at them, Ramza knew if he told them the truth they would kill him. These soldiers did not want to truth, they wanted their lies to be real, they wanted Weigraf to be the pure man of commoner legends, the peasant's Saint Ajora.
The soldiers were maybe twenty strong with three Chocobos. Very few still had tents, most sat around their dwindling fires, waiting for death. A tattered tent, slightly larger than the rest, sat in the center of the camp. A battered and beaten flag hung, dead still, over the top of the leader's tent.
It was a pitiful affair, this beaten army of idealists. Already they had lost, their will to fight was gone, they were the living dead now. In only an hour or two the Ivalice Royal Knights would be upon them, crushing the remainders of the force that had so recklessly stormed Bethla Garrison.
Ramza had only just returned, and yet he knew a great deal of the chaos Ivalice was being thrown into. Lord Delita Hyral was gone, some said dead, others said missing. Rumors of all sorts circulated, so many that it was impossible to determine which had any truth in them. What was fact was the movement of this army. Seeing weakness, they had stormed Bethla Garrison, three hundred of them total. It had been a gory and worthless battle.
But the battle of Bethla Garrison was past now, it was no longer important. These men were destined to die and there was nothing Ramza could do about it. This worthless death, this useless carnage. Had nothing changed in all these years? Were humans still so base that they had to make war on one another?
Ramza turned to his sister, Alma. She was just as young as she had been fifteen years ago. The escape from Murond had left them this way, stuck in time. Neither would age, now or ever, stuck in this never-ending mistake. Alma nodded, no words needed to be spoken. There was much more important work to be done than mourning over these lost and ignorant souls. Sparkling light danced around the duo, swirling, growing. It engulfed them, dying in a bright flash. And then both were gone.
*****
Kaz Tyrburn charged, a horrible roar tearing from his throat. The wave of soldiers behind him collided with that before him, creating a sickening, churning tide of death. The rift between them was breached, the Black Sheep Knights colliding with the Igros Mighty Guard.
Upon the ramparts behind him were archers; their bolts of death falling like rain. Behind them, wizards prepared their spells, nearly ready to rip through the enemy. Below the support fire was the real battle, the knights. The tide frothed and churned, soldiers falling at alarming rates. The Igros Mighty Guard was well trained, yet not quite as well trained as the elite Black Sheep Knights, who held their own in the fight without more than a few archers for support.
Kaz leapt from his Chocobo, drawing the two rune swords he kept strapped to his back beneath his ash-gray robe. He wielded the deadly tools better than even the enemy, charging headlong into battle. He wore no headgear, no sword could touch him. Stained black light leather armor covered him from foot to throat, light gauntlets giving him the freedom he needed to grasp two swords. But Kaz was more than a blight to the battlefield.
He was a Lune Knight.
A chemist standing on higher ground drew his gun, leveling it with Kaz's head from a good twenty feet away. The fool knew nothing of the powers of a Lune Knight, knew not the dangers of drawing a weapon on one. Kaz relished in moments such as this, the ultimate power it gave him. Commanding soldiers was nothing compared to the exhilarating rush of preying on ignorance, taking full advantage of what the enemy did not know. In most cases, it was a mistake they'd never live to learn from.
"Demolish weapons with fury," Kaz said in an even tone, restraining the excitement of the moment. The Mighty Sword techniques of a Lune Knight fed off the calm that turned to rage, the order turned to chaos. Sword held high, he could feel the tendons of strength coiling across the blade, making it whole, filling it with his need. His mind's eye saw the chemist and the chemist alone.
Time stood still, unmoving, the world was helpless to save the chemist. Now was the time to break the calm, now was the time to release the fury of the feared Mighty Sword. Now was the time for the earth to be rent by the cry. Kaz obliged with a shout, "Hellcry Punch!"
The earth rippled and shuddered beneath the chemist, a small tremor of the spiritual world. The earth itself did not split open, yet yielded spiritually as the ethereal blade was drawn. The translucent blade was a bluish color, single-edged, the flat edge straight and perfect. It ripped through the chemist in spirit, engulfing his body in its raw power. The gun in his hand glowed angrily like a dying sun, resentful of all that would continue to live in the vast reaches of the universe. And then the ethereal blade vanished, the gun shattering into a million pieces.
The chemist survived the agony of the Hellcry Punch, but was horribly wounded. He would not last more than a few moments longer on a battlefield such as this. The Lune Knight charged, determined to drive the king's elite knights from his lord's castle. His dual blades whistled as he spun and danced, a picture of harmony in so much chaos.
Lightning rained from the sky, tearing deep gashes in the ground as it knocked the Black Sheep Knights into the air. Fire ran free as shards of ice graced the battlefield. Those still falling did not land alive, pierced by arrows from the ramparts. The Black Sheep Knights had underestimated the capabilities of the Igros Mighty Guard and paid the price.
"Leave and do not darken Igros again with your foul presence! Your king is not wanted in this land," Kaz Tyrburn shouted at the retreating knights of King Hyral. Cheers went up from those who survived the battle, yet in the back of each and every knight's mind was this: There would be more fighting. Kaz knew this and welcomed it; Igros would not fall to the corrupt kingdom King Hyral had created, whoever the new monarch was to be.
*****
"Bloody damn it, Kletian, what are you waiting for?" a disgruntled Rofel asked. He looked not a day older than he had that fateful day when the gateway to Murond was open, save the nasty scar running from his right temple down the side of his face. His right eye was useless now, a white, glassy orb that saw nothing but perhaps the spirits that haunted him.
"Quiet, Rofel. This spell takes time. It's not easy to get into the Bethla Garrison vaults, either we need this spell to be perfect or we need an invisibility spell. If you don't have one, let me work," the now agitated Kletian grumbled, returning to painting the incantations for his spell in a reddish mud upon the cleared forest floor.
"What do we need the stones for, anyways? Velius, Queklain, Zalera, Adramelk, and Hashmalum are dead. We won't ever be able to resurrect Saint Ajora," Rofel pointed out.
"That fool, Delita, has managed to collect all twelve 'Holy Stones' and put them in one place. And those you mention have not died, they linger in the world between worlds for a suitable body to be found once more. But that does not matter, I now know how to control the powers of the stones without calling forth the beast through the gateway. Now silence yourself and let me work," Kletian ordered. Rofel fell silent, allowing his partner to finish the job.
Rofel and Kletian were the perfect threat, they were thought long dead. They, much the same as Ramza, had been trapped in Murond Dead City. Both had fallen to Ramza and his allies, yet neither had died. When Altima was destroyed, the power expelled was used as a means to power a teleportation spell, pulling them, and unfortunately Ramza and Alma, into this world once again.
*****
The cold stone wall shimmered, first a little, like a pond rippling. Rays of light began to shine through, small at first, then as the wall began to fade away, gradually larger. The light danced and reflected upon the surfaces of the Zodiac Stones. A circular area of the wall faded completely, leaving shimmering, radiant light. Two shadows stepped through into the Bethla Garrison vault.
"Hurry, Rofel, grab one of the stones!" Kletian urged. Each stone was placed neatly upon a red satin cushion, all made presentable as if they were actually holy. Rofel pulled a stone from his pocket, looking from it to the stone, 'Cancer.' They were identical. He grabbed Cancer, placing the real stone back in his pocket, the phony on the pedestal. It was all going perfectly.
Kletian had replaced Taurus with his imitation stone, turning to the portal. The light was beginning to dim; if they did not hurry the portal would close and trap them within the walls of Bethla Garrison. Grabbing Rofel's hand, he pulled him through, making it back into the forest clearing just before the portal snapped shut.
"Perfect. Now nothing will keep us from our revenge," Kletian said with a wicked grin.
*****
The Lune Knight pressed forward, driving his troops even deeper into the enemy ranks. Lancers on Chocobos followed directly behind him, tearing the enemy camp apart. Men scrambled for weapons, tried to stand and face this new enemy. They were no match.
With both swords drawn, Kaz Tyrburn led the charge, weaving destruction as he pressed forward. This attack had been his idea, to destroy the Black Sheep Knights once and for all. Twelve soldiers had broken away from the main attack force, wiping out the enemy's Chocobos. The rest of the hundred and fifty troops ran rampant through the camp, attacking anyone and everyone. The world had been turned upside down, everything was in a state of complete chaos.
Kaz loved it.
Then he saw him, the leader of the Black Sheep Knights was bold enough to join in the fight. Leaping from his Chocobo, the Lune Knight landed directly in front of the Dark Knight responsible for this loss of life. Swords swinging met shield and sword, expertly blocked by one who had lived on the battlefield for so long.
"It's been a long time, Felicia," Kaz growled, swinging his swords with more intensity than before. Adrenaline hammered through him, pounded more strength into his arms. Madness gnawed at the edges of his mind, fraying him as teeth ground, fury boiling. Heaven and Hell in one blissful moment, one raw pure emotion indefinable by any single word any mortal had ever coined.
"Yes, brother, yes it has. I trust you still believe you can protect Igros?" Felicia smirked, shoving first with her shield before swinging her sword to split Kaz's side. He blocked expertly, using the momentum of her shove to land a perfect back flip, springing forward with renewed energy to knock her off balance. This vicious dance, this beautiful fight, this unrivaled equality on the battlefield.
This rapture.
Kaz knew he could easily shatter her sword and shield, bring her defenseless body to her knees and cleave her in two, much the same way she knew she could steal fragments of his soul and bring him to his death. This was not a battle of special techniques, but a battle of pure swordsmanship. Steel rang on steel as the heated dance continued.
"Always you impress me, brother! I have not had a fight so exquisite in as long as I can remember," Felicia said, her words timed with the dancing of her sword. All around them the battle was winding down, the stench of blood feeding the flames of their hearts. Dodge and parry, attack and counter attack, not a single blow met its mark.
"Your Black Sheep Knights have fallen, sister! It is time to call this draw, retreat while you still can!" Kaz warned, leaping back several paces. Felicia nodded. Her sword found its sheath and with a smile and nod, she ran. No longer was she a Black Sheep Knight, but now, Kaz supposed, a freelance assassin. She would be fine, she'd lived that life before.
"Knights!" Kaz cried, "We are victorious! Return to Igros!" With that, he mounted the nearest Chocobo, turning with the survivors of this slaughter to return to the land they defended so well.
*****
Felicia ran, half laughing half crying through the forest where the Black Sheep Knights had set up camp. She was free, finally free! Oh how she had hated working for Delita, she knew all about his past and didn't want to have any part in it. But this freedom had come at the price of her comrades, her friends.
Fighting her thickheaded brother was always the height of her existence, yet it horrified her. One slip, one false move, and she would die. He thought so much of himself for protecting people, but really all he was doing was keeping a few people from death by slaying infinitely more. He had not yet realized killing is killing, regardless of the fact that he was several years her senior. Poor, ignorant fool.
A bright flash distracted Felicia from her thoughts. Her pace slowed quickly, there were voices up ahead. She became aware of the fact it was now dark and a good deal cooler than it had been earlier in the day. Her cape had long been abandoned in shreds, her light robes not providing enough protection from the elements. Her brownish hair was held back in a braid, what wasn't clung to her forehead. She ducked behind a tree as the voices drew nearer.
"Bloody hell, Kletian, was this the closest you could get us to Igros? Do we really have to walk all this way?" a man's voice complained. "Quiet yourself, Rofel. I told you, I haven't perfected using the Zodiac Stones yet. They're supposed to be a gateway between worlds, not a tool for amplifying magic," a second man's voice said. There was the rattle of armor, then a new voice spoke, "The Zodiac Stones? I don't know how you got them out of Bethla Garrison, but I believe they belong to me."
There was a gasp of fear, then a scream. The second man tried to say something but was cut short, ending in a scream. Dead silence followed, broken moments later by the mysterious voice, "You can come out now, they're dead."
Felicia stepped out from behind the tree cautiously, sword drawn. Under the nearly destroyed armor and disheveled hair, she saw none other than Delita Hyral! In each of his rusted and stained hands there was a Zodiac Stone, Cancer and Taurus.
"I needed these," Delita said in a frightening tone, "You see, this world needs Lucavi. If nobody purifies this world, you pathetic little humans are going to continue filling it with shit. Do you understand?" "But," Felicia gasped, "But I heard you were dead!" "Dead? Oh, yes, I am quite dead. Do you know what happens to a Holy Knight when they give themselves in to the darkness? I'm the same as you, only more powerful than you could ever imagine," he said with a sickening grin. "How could you? How could you give yourself over to such powers? You're Ivalice's ruler, how could you betray us like this?" "Betray? What do you know of betrayal? I've been betraying people since I began the ascension to king. There is nobody left for me to betray. Now, if I am not mistaken, you were placed in charge of my Black Sheep Knights, shouldn't you be getting back to them?" The tone in his voice was deadly. "They're dead," she said, flat as stone. "Well then, we have a problem, don't we? Run. Now. Or else you may not live to see tomorrow."
Felicia did just that, she ran. She didn't know why Delita was so close to Igros, nor did she care. Wits escaped the fallen knight as she ran for her life, into the darkness and away from the madman laughing behind her.
Misery in spades hung over the camp like Lucavi's bitter mistress herself. Hollow eyes of beaten soldiers watched the dancing flames, the trickle of smoke swirling up into the heavens, where each and every one of them longed to go. They longed for the fighting to stop. This, the Ivalice Death Corps, was the reincarnation of Weigraf's wonderful ideal, an ideal that now looked empty and mocking. Weigraf had been a great man and even he had not been able to realize the will of the Death Corps.
Rumor had it that Weigraf had joined the church and forsaken all he held dear, but there was very little proof of this. Those who said that were only trying to tarnish a great thinker's reputation. Lord Hyral didn't want anyone thinking Weigraf could be half as good as he, and so the monarch tried to ruin the reputation of the enemy. More believable rumor said an assassin sent by Lord Hyral silenced Weigraf to keep him from starting a revolution.
That was what the soldiers believed, and to them that was the truth. Looking through the shrubbery at them, Ramza knew if he told them the truth they would kill him. These soldiers did not want to truth, they wanted their lies to be real, they wanted Weigraf to be the pure man of commoner legends, the peasant's Saint Ajora.
The soldiers were maybe twenty strong with three Chocobos. Very few still had tents, most sat around their dwindling fires, waiting for death. A tattered tent, slightly larger than the rest, sat in the center of the camp. A battered and beaten flag hung, dead still, over the top of the leader's tent.
It was a pitiful affair, this beaten army of idealists. Already they had lost, their will to fight was gone, they were the living dead now. In only an hour or two the Ivalice Royal Knights would be upon them, crushing the remainders of the force that had so recklessly stormed Bethla Garrison.
Ramza had only just returned, and yet he knew a great deal of the chaos Ivalice was being thrown into. Lord Delita Hyral was gone, some said dead, others said missing. Rumors of all sorts circulated, so many that it was impossible to determine which had any truth in them. What was fact was the movement of this army. Seeing weakness, they had stormed Bethla Garrison, three hundred of them total. It had been a gory and worthless battle.
But the battle of Bethla Garrison was past now, it was no longer important. These men were destined to die and there was nothing Ramza could do about it. This worthless death, this useless carnage. Had nothing changed in all these years? Were humans still so base that they had to make war on one another?
Ramza turned to his sister, Alma. She was just as young as she had been fifteen years ago. The escape from Murond had left them this way, stuck in time. Neither would age, now or ever, stuck in this never-ending mistake. Alma nodded, no words needed to be spoken. There was much more important work to be done than mourning over these lost and ignorant souls. Sparkling light danced around the duo, swirling, growing. It engulfed them, dying in a bright flash. And then both were gone.
*****
Kaz Tyrburn charged, a horrible roar tearing from his throat. The wave of soldiers behind him collided with that before him, creating a sickening, churning tide of death. The rift between them was breached, the Black Sheep Knights colliding with the Igros Mighty Guard.
Upon the ramparts behind him were archers; their bolts of death falling like rain. Behind them, wizards prepared their spells, nearly ready to rip through the enemy. Below the support fire was the real battle, the knights. The tide frothed and churned, soldiers falling at alarming rates. The Igros Mighty Guard was well trained, yet not quite as well trained as the elite Black Sheep Knights, who held their own in the fight without more than a few archers for support.
Kaz leapt from his Chocobo, drawing the two rune swords he kept strapped to his back beneath his ash-gray robe. He wielded the deadly tools better than even the enemy, charging headlong into battle. He wore no headgear, no sword could touch him. Stained black light leather armor covered him from foot to throat, light gauntlets giving him the freedom he needed to grasp two swords. But Kaz was more than a blight to the battlefield.
He was a Lune Knight.
A chemist standing on higher ground drew his gun, leveling it with Kaz's head from a good twenty feet away. The fool knew nothing of the powers of a Lune Knight, knew not the dangers of drawing a weapon on one. Kaz relished in moments such as this, the ultimate power it gave him. Commanding soldiers was nothing compared to the exhilarating rush of preying on ignorance, taking full advantage of what the enemy did not know. In most cases, it was a mistake they'd never live to learn from.
"Demolish weapons with fury," Kaz said in an even tone, restraining the excitement of the moment. The Mighty Sword techniques of a Lune Knight fed off the calm that turned to rage, the order turned to chaos. Sword held high, he could feel the tendons of strength coiling across the blade, making it whole, filling it with his need. His mind's eye saw the chemist and the chemist alone.
Time stood still, unmoving, the world was helpless to save the chemist. Now was the time to break the calm, now was the time to release the fury of the feared Mighty Sword. Now was the time for the earth to be rent by the cry. Kaz obliged with a shout, "Hellcry Punch!"
The earth rippled and shuddered beneath the chemist, a small tremor of the spiritual world. The earth itself did not split open, yet yielded spiritually as the ethereal blade was drawn. The translucent blade was a bluish color, single-edged, the flat edge straight and perfect. It ripped through the chemist in spirit, engulfing his body in its raw power. The gun in his hand glowed angrily like a dying sun, resentful of all that would continue to live in the vast reaches of the universe. And then the ethereal blade vanished, the gun shattering into a million pieces.
The chemist survived the agony of the Hellcry Punch, but was horribly wounded. He would not last more than a few moments longer on a battlefield such as this. The Lune Knight charged, determined to drive the king's elite knights from his lord's castle. His dual blades whistled as he spun and danced, a picture of harmony in so much chaos.
Lightning rained from the sky, tearing deep gashes in the ground as it knocked the Black Sheep Knights into the air. Fire ran free as shards of ice graced the battlefield. Those still falling did not land alive, pierced by arrows from the ramparts. The Black Sheep Knights had underestimated the capabilities of the Igros Mighty Guard and paid the price.
"Leave and do not darken Igros again with your foul presence! Your king is not wanted in this land," Kaz Tyrburn shouted at the retreating knights of King Hyral. Cheers went up from those who survived the battle, yet in the back of each and every knight's mind was this: There would be more fighting. Kaz knew this and welcomed it; Igros would not fall to the corrupt kingdom King Hyral had created, whoever the new monarch was to be.
*****
"Bloody damn it, Kletian, what are you waiting for?" a disgruntled Rofel asked. He looked not a day older than he had that fateful day when the gateway to Murond was open, save the nasty scar running from his right temple down the side of his face. His right eye was useless now, a white, glassy orb that saw nothing but perhaps the spirits that haunted him.
"Quiet, Rofel. This spell takes time. It's not easy to get into the Bethla Garrison vaults, either we need this spell to be perfect or we need an invisibility spell. If you don't have one, let me work," the now agitated Kletian grumbled, returning to painting the incantations for his spell in a reddish mud upon the cleared forest floor.
"What do we need the stones for, anyways? Velius, Queklain, Zalera, Adramelk, and Hashmalum are dead. We won't ever be able to resurrect Saint Ajora," Rofel pointed out.
"That fool, Delita, has managed to collect all twelve 'Holy Stones' and put them in one place. And those you mention have not died, they linger in the world between worlds for a suitable body to be found once more. But that does not matter, I now know how to control the powers of the stones without calling forth the beast through the gateway. Now silence yourself and let me work," Kletian ordered. Rofel fell silent, allowing his partner to finish the job.
Rofel and Kletian were the perfect threat, they were thought long dead. They, much the same as Ramza, had been trapped in Murond Dead City. Both had fallen to Ramza and his allies, yet neither had died. When Altima was destroyed, the power expelled was used as a means to power a teleportation spell, pulling them, and unfortunately Ramza and Alma, into this world once again.
*****
The cold stone wall shimmered, first a little, like a pond rippling. Rays of light began to shine through, small at first, then as the wall began to fade away, gradually larger. The light danced and reflected upon the surfaces of the Zodiac Stones. A circular area of the wall faded completely, leaving shimmering, radiant light. Two shadows stepped through into the Bethla Garrison vault.
"Hurry, Rofel, grab one of the stones!" Kletian urged. Each stone was placed neatly upon a red satin cushion, all made presentable as if they were actually holy. Rofel pulled a stone from his pocket, looking from it to the stone, 'Cancer.' They were identical. He grabbed Cancer, placing the real stone back in his pocket, the phony on the pedestal. It was all going perfectly.
Kletian had replaced Taurus with his imitation stone, turning to the portal. The light was beginning to dim; if they did not hurry the portal would close and trap them within the walls of Bethla Garrison. Grabbing Rofel's hand, he pulled him through, making it back into the forest clearing just before the portal snapped shut.
"Perfect. Now nothing will keep us from our revenge," Kletian said with a wicked grin.
*****
The Lune Knight pressed forward, driving his troops even deeper into the enemy ranks. Lancers on Chocobos followed directly behind him, tearing the enemy camp apart. Men scrambled for weapons, tried to stand and face this new enemy. They were no match.
With both swords drawn, Kaz Tyrburn led the charge, weaving destruction as he pressed forward. This attack had been his idea, to destroy the Black Sheep Knights once and for all. Twelve soldiers had broken away from the main attack force, wiping out the enemy's Chocobos. The rest of the hundred and fifty troops ran rampant through the camp, attacking anyone and everyone. The world had been turned upside down, everything was in a state of complete chaos.
Kaz loved it.
Then he saw him, the leader of the Black Sheep Knights was bold enough to join in the fight. Leaping from his Chocobo, the Lune Knight landed directly in front of the Dark Knight responsible for this loss of life. Swords swinging met shield and sword, expertly blocked by one who had lived on the battlefield for so long.
"It's been a long time, Felicia," Kaz growled, swinging his swords with more intensity than before. Adrenaline hammered through him, pounded more strength into his arms. Madness gnawed at the edges of his mind, fraying him as teeth ground, fury boiling. Heaven and Hell in one blissful moment, one raw pure emotion indefinable by any single word any mortal had ever coined.
"Yes, brother, yes it has. I trust you still believe you can protect Igros?" Felicia smirked, shoving first with her shield before swinging her sword to split Kaz's side. He blocked expertly, using the momentum of her shove to land a perfect back flip, springing forward with renewed energy to knock her off balance. This vicious dance, this beautiful fight, this unrivaled equality on the battlefield.
This rapture.
Kaz knew he could easily shatter her sword and shield, bring her defenseless body to her knees and cleave her in two, much the same way she knew she could steal fragments of his soul and bring him to his death. This was not a battle of special techniques, but a battle of pure swordsmanship. Steel rang on steel as the heated dance continued.
"Always you impress me, brother! I have not had a fight so exquisite in as long as I can remember," Felicia said, her words timed with the dancing of her sword. All around them the battle was winding down, the stench of blood feeding the flames of their hearts. Dodge and parry, attack and counter attack, not a single blow met its mark.
"Your Black Sheep Knights have fallen, sister! It is time to call this draw, retreat while you still can!" Kaz warned, leaping back several paces. Felicia nodded. Her sword found its sheath and with a smile and nod, she ran. No longer was she a Black Sheep Knight, but now, Kaz supposed, a freelance assassin. She would be fine, she'd lived that life before.
"Knights!" Kaz cried, "We are victorious! Return to Igros!" With that, he mounted the nearest Chocobo, turning with the survivors of this slaughter to return to the land they defended so well.
*****
Felicia ran, half laughing half crying through the forest where the Black Sheep Knights had set up camp. She was free, finally free! Oh how she had hated working for Delita, she knew all about his past and didn't want to have any part in it. But this freedom had come at the price of her comrades, her friends.
Fighting her thickheaded brother was always the height of her existence, yet it horrified her. One slip, one false move, and she would die. He thought so much of himself for protecting people, but really all he was doing was keeping a few people from death by slaying infinitely more. He had not yet realized killing is killing, regardless of the fact that he was several years her senior. Poor, ignorant fool.
A bright flash distracted Felicia from her thoughts. Her pace slowed quickly, there were voices up ahead. She became aware of the fact it was now dark and a good deal cooler than it had been earlier in the day. Her cape had long been abandoned in shreds, her light robes not providing enough protection from the elements. Her brownish hair was held back in a braid, what wasn't clung to her forehead. She ducked behind a tree as the voices drew nearer.
"Bloody hell, Kletian, was this the closest you could get us to Igros? Do we really have to walk all this way?" a man's voice complained. "Quiet yourself, Rofel. I told you, I haven't perfected using the Zodiac Stones yet. They're supposed to be a gateway between worlds, not a tool for amplifying magic," a second man's voice said. There was the rattle of armor, then a new voice spoke, "The Zodiac Stones? I don't know how you got them out of Bethla Garrison, but I believe they belong to me."
There was a gasp of fear, then a scream. The second man tried to say something but was cut short, ending in a scream. Dead silence followed, broken moments later by the mysterious voice, "You can come out now, they're dead."
Felicia stepped out from behind the tree cautiously, sword drawn. Under the nearly destroyed armor and disheveled hair, she saw none other than Delita Hyral! In each of his rusted and stained hands there was a Zodiac Stone, Cancer and Taurus.
"I needed these," Delita said in a frightening tone, "You see, this world needs Lucavi. If nobody purifies this world, you pathetic little humans are going to continue filling it with shit. Do you understand?" "But," Felicia gasped, "But I heard you were dead!" "Dead? Oh, yes, I am quite dead. Do you know what happens to a Holy Knight when they give themselves in to the darkness? I'm the same as you, only more powerful than you could ever imagine," he said with a sickening grin. "How could you? How could you give yourself over to such powers? You're Ivalice's ruler, how could you betray us like this?" "Betray? What do you know of betrayal? I've been betraying people since I began the ascension to king. There is nobody left for me to betray. Now, if I am not mistaken, you were placed in charge of my Black Sheep Knights, shouldn't you be getting back to them?" The tone in his voice was deadly. "They're dead," she said, flat as stone. "Well then, we have a problem, don't we? Run. Now. Or else you may not live to see tomorrow."
Felicia did just that, she ran. She didn't know why Delita was so close to Igros, nor did she care. Wits escaped the fallen knight as she ran for her life, into the darkness and away from the madman laughing behind her.