Disclaimer: Anyone else noticed that when Wiegraf fights, he's always accompanied by female warriors ONLY? (The chocobo doesn't count) The man is pimpin'…but he's still a loser. Seriously, can he possibly compare with Elmdor? Not only does Elmdor have more style (only two escorts, not a whole friggin' harem), but either Celia or Lede would demolish Wiegraf in a heartbeat. I'd love to have an Assassin in my party. Plus Elmdor is the FFT clone of Sephiroth, so a little of the coolness factor carries over.

Author's Notes: I would sincerely like to thank the guy who posted up the game script on GameFAQs. Not sure if it's entirely legal, but it was a great help in remembering tiny details.

Alpha Draconis: Well, Ramza really isn't the brooding sort. He seems to be the ultimate 'nice guy' type. Heck, if I was him I'd probably have degenerated into the cynical anti-hero, but no, not Ramza.

Agrias might seem to be more open after the fight at the execution site…maybe because she just dropped right out of the story? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I recall that to be her last speaking role. Unless she spouts one of those weird Holy Sword incantations. And yes, I know she's older than Ramza… your point being?

No need to thank me, just doin' what I do.

tenshi no ai: Well, if you find Lakus boring you might not enjoy the story that much… 'cause he's the antagonist and he'll be around a lot. It'll get a little more interesting later on, though.

I have this thing against writing someone's name over and over again, like 'Ramza went and got his…Ramza turned around…etc'. So I type stuff like 'the Beoulve', which could be confusing, I guess, since there are two of 'em. I'll try to stop that.

I also have a penchant for those corny hints of trouble coming at the end of chapters. Yep, nothing like ruining the mood with some gloom…and I never said I was ever going to have Meliadoul take off her hood. As far as I'm concerned it can stay on forever. Could be better that way. As for the other comments, I think it's possible to inject romance into an action story, but it would be cheesy unless done correctly. I am not even going to try. Beowulf and Reis are pretty much an accepted couple, and I don't think I'll go out of my way to advertise that. Sorry.

Chapter Four

Olan peeked through the dense shrubbery that rose above the crumbling brick wall he and Balmafula were sheltered behind. Armored figures crunched along the gravel path fifty yards away, helmeted heads turning right and left to search their surroundings. None of them seemed to be paying any special attention to the overgrown rubble of an old tomb that they were using for shelter, and Olan breathed a faint sigh of relief. At that same moment, Balmafula's hand snaked up and over his shoulder, grabbing him tightly and pulling him back down.

"Keep down!" she hissed, glancing behind them. "Those are Shrine Knights. What're they doing here?"

He read the fear in her voice. He knew she had once been affiliated with the Church and that she had failed in her mission of killing Delita if he betrayed the High Priest. Perhaps they were searching for her? But then, all accounts of what had happened at Murond Holy Place pointed towards the death of the High Priest and his closest associates. What, then, was the purpose of the Shrine Knights here? Maybe the new leaders were now trying to eliminate everyone who'd known about the conspiracy. It was possible, but that meant that the eyes of Glabados were spread further out than he'd believed; how could they have known he and Balmafula would come here?

With that thought, he wondered if the Church would try to assassinate the king. Delita knew everything about their plans; in fact, he'd helped carry them out. He mulled it over, then decided it was impossible. Delita was sure to be on guard against any plots by the new High Priest or whoever was in charge; in its weakened and confused state the Church would never dream of killing the king. Then again, who could predict how a cornered rat would act.

"Are you listening?" Balmafula slapped his shoulder.

"Oh, sorry. Just thinking."

"Think less and act more. Come on, we've got to get out of here."

He nodded and followed after as the agile woman snaked her way across the grass and then dashed to the shelter of the next grave marker large enough for her to hide behind. He waited to make sure she was clear before doing the same. The pair of them zigzagged their way across the graveyard until they were hidden behind a wall of a mausoleum with a good view of the gates. Olan grunted briefly when he saw the glint of sunlight off a polished helmet. No way out here. Balmafula looked out further, then frowned and gestured for him to observe something. He craned his neck out to see better, then blinked in confusion when he saw a troop of knights herding a group of black-clad mourners towards the gates.

"What're they doing?"

"Doesn't matter right now. When the guards are all looking at them, we go over the wall." She indicated a portion of the stonework that had a large tree beside it to provide some cover.

"Maybe we should just try to outwait them."

"I don't like our chances with Shrine Knight patrols everywhere in the graveyard. If they spot us before we're out of here, we can just drop back down and hide. I'm sure we can outrun men in armor."

"Alright. Would you like to go first?"

She glanced at him, as though looking for any traces of sarcasm, then nodded briefly.

"Fine. Give me a boost when we get there."

They waited in silence until the procession was almost at the gates, then she abruptly patted his leg as a signal and bolted towards the wall. He was right behind her, folding his hands together to give her a foothold as they reached their target. She unhesitatingly planted her foot in his gloved hands and he pushed her up as far as he could until he saw her hands grab the top. Her other foot scrabbled for a moment, then found purchase and she levered herself up the rest of the way until she was straddling the top of the wall. As she turned and reached down to give him a hand up, Olan said a silent thank-you to whoever ruled the universe that the cemetery's ornamental walls were not lined with spikes. Then he grabbed her hand and clambered to the top, where they both jumped down. At that moment, though, a sentry chose to glance back in their direction.

"Stop! There they are!"

The two pelted in the other direction at full speed, followed by a ruckus of shouting and clanking as knights dashed after them. Balmafula glanced over her shoulder.

"What now?"

"Run until you see Hokuten!"

The duo lowered their heads in unison and charged on down the street.

Lakus watched impatiently as the squire scrutinized the tracks.

"They started running here. Not more than an hour or so ago."

"Then let's get going." The churchman gestured impatiently. "They must be captured as soon as possible."

Tyralt scrutinized the path ahead. The field was open and relatively bare of most objects that could hide a potential ambusher, but some ways ahead the path narrowed down, hemmed in on both sides by large trees that could have archers waiting in their branches or swordsmen hidden in their shadows.

"Perhaps a little more caution would be in order as we approach the tree line, your eminence. The heretic could have a camp there, and sentries watching the path."

The Pagan Examiner scowled.

"And just what to you suggest?"

"A prudent idea would be to trap anyone who is waiting to trap us. We send a mounted force ahead to seal off the other side and then both units push forward at once. If they're in there they'll have no place to go."

"If they're even in there."

Tyralt shrugged.

"If not we'll just keep after them. If they've kept on going for a while, we couldn't catch them if we tried."

"Very well, then. Get on with it."

Ramza looked up at the sky.

"Well, it's getting near noon. We'll have a meal and then break camp. It's a nice day to travel."

"It would be better," Beowulf groused, "if we had enough chocobos for everyone."

"Well, we don't. Everyone will be on foot anyway. The chocobos will be carrying our gear."

"We should buy a few. Come on, Ramza, surely you've made that much money by now."

"Stop complaining, Beowulf." Reis gave the knight a disapproving look. "Walking never hurt anyone."

"Of course, but it's not for me that I'm complaining." He gave her an exaggerated bow. "It pains my heart to see my love forced to walk like all the rest of us unworthy peasants…"

She laughed. "Stop it!"

"Aw, don't get mushy on us, please." Malak shook his head. "I can't stand that."

The Temple Knight shrugged elaborately. "Not the most romantic situations… or traveling partners."

"All right, cut it out." Ramza shook his head, more with resignation than any real feeling of annoyance. Traveling with this bunch was never dull. "Who's cooking?"

There was no reply. Ramza glanced over his shoulder, then belatedly realized that Worker 8, who they'd placed in charge of keeping track of the cooking order, was gone.

"Um… does anyone remember whose turn it ought to be?"

There was more silence, which was broken by Reis.

"No. We all forgot to ask for the schedule before Worker 8 left with Mustadio."

"Oh. Who wants to cook, then?"

Another pause followed his question, then Agrias stood up.

"I'll do it."

Malak nodded, looking relieved.

"Thanks, Agrias. We ought to make up a new order."

Alma stood also.

"I'll help you, Agrias. Ever since I've been with you I've never been called to cook yet."

The Holy Knight nodded, then turned to their provisions. Alma started round the fire pit, elbowing Ramza playfully as she went by.

"Why don't you help too, brother?"

"Er…"

"No." It was Beowulf who spoke. "By common agreement Ramza's excused from cooking duty."

Alma looked around a circle of suddenly grim faces.

"Why?"

"Have you ever tried your brother's cooking?" Meliadoul spoke the question.

"No…"

"Lucky you." There was general agreement.

Alma glanced at her brother. Ramza shrugged.

"I have to get firewood and do the washing twice as often," he offered.

Orlandu wandered back in from the edge of the camp where he'd been on guard duty.

"Who's up?"

"I am." Rafa got up and headed off to relieve him. Cid brushed some dried leaves off his cloak that had attached themselves to him while he was sitting.

"Ramza, where do you plan on going?"

"I was actually hoping to stay in Gallione, but now that I think about it, it might not be such a good idea. Maybe we'll head north, to Fovoham. Malak and Rafa know the area, and it's further from Murond and Lionel. The Church probably hasn't given up on me yet."

The old man nodded gravely.

"I had that feeling too, Ramza. I agree with your decision. Better to get as far away from them as possible."

At that moment, a dark shadow blotted out the sun overhead.