The Zodiac Brave Story

by Xenoglossy

Novelization of Final Fantasy Tactics. I don't know how to better describe it. **The 'Manipulator and the Subservient' now finished!**

4. CHAPTER TWO: The Manipulator and the Sub...

CHAPTER TWO: The Manipulator and the Subservient










I.

'Ramza essentially ran away from home, creating for himself a new name and becoming a mercenary for hire under command of Gaff Gafgharion. Gafgharion himself was a curious fellow, expelled from his elite fighting force after the war because a peaceful Ivalice simply had no place for his brutality. War's greatest warriors must usually learn to fight like dogs to survive and unfortunately, they usually die like dogs whether on the battlefield, or in aimless, post-war pursuits.'
- The Durai Repots, Chapter III










Ramza eased his gaze back to watch the receding rain clouds clear the night sky in their wake. His mind replayed memories vainly, trying to make sense of what he had just seen. Over and over he watched the explosion at Fort Zeakden and over and over he saw Delita engulfed by the flames or caught beneath the falling suspension bridge.

Delita WAS dead. Nothing else made sense... no one could have ever survived that inferno.

'Except me,' Ramza reflected bitterly.

"So you know the kidapper, Ramza?" Gafgharion braced himself on the knees of his dark-plated armour and lowered his face so that it was level with Ramza's, "That's what I heard, otherwise you stopped Lady Oakes from saving the Princess for nothing."

Ramza shifted his eyes and sank deeper into his tangled sitting position. Gafgharion produced a fustrated noise form the back of his throat and stood, throwing his arms into the air, "I swear boy, I'll never get a straight answer from you till I lie on my death bed!"

Agrias pushed through the chruch doors suddenly, exiting into the courtyard with her shoulders and head hung as if someone had strung weights over them. She sighed guiltily, then raised her golden eyes and set heavy stares on the small gathering, "If he has the Princess with him, he can't of gotten far. We should leave immidietly."

Gafgharion 'hpmh'ed at her then placed his hands on his hips haughtily, "What makes you think we'll help you? It's not in the contract."

"I don't need help from one who is not even a Knight!" Agrias retorted harshly, "A Knight must fix his own mistakes. This is one of my respnsibilities as Ovelia's gaurdian. It's something I must take care of by myself." she hesitated a moment, the reached deep into one of her many pockets and brought out a water-stained peice of crumpled parchment. She turned to her last Knight and handed her the paper, "Lavian." she said gravely as the Knight fell to attention, "I am giving you your leave. As of now you are no longer part of the Hokuten."

Lavian's blue eyes widened and became frantic, "But... Captain..."

Agrais silenced her with a sharp hand gesture, "Your compensation money should become available in less than a week. I want you to deliver Alycya's will to her husband. He would better know what to do with then I."

Lavian swallowed her pride and bowed quickly, mumbling affirmation and thanks. She tucked the paper into her pouch and nodded one last time before leaving hastily.

"Why aren't you leaving too, Captain?" the tone Gafgharion inflicted Agrias's title with was almost mockery, "Why don't you just let us take care of this small matter?"

Agrias glanced at him sharply, "First you say that you won't help me, now you're telling me to let you take care of it? What exactly is it that you want?"

Gafgharion smiled enigmatically and spread his arms, "I want what you want, m'lady... as long as it's in the contract of course."

Agrias raised an eyebrow skeptically, "And what exactly does this contract of yours entrail?"

"Sorry. That's confidential information."

Agrias snorted, "Might as well guessed. Listen, Gafgharion," her voice was firm and deadly serious, "I really don't care if you and your boys here tag along or not, but I'm going to save Ovelia on my Knight's honor. I'll never be able to face the royal family again if I don't. And that's that."

"Let me come with you!" Ramza leapt to his feet suddenly, "I promise I won't be a burden!"

"Are you crazy?" Gafgharion exclaimed, "This's none of our business. None of yours, especially."

Ramza fixed his commander with a pleading gaze, "I have to know, Gafgharion. I have to see it with my own eyes!"

"You mean that boy you saw." Agrais interrupted softly.

"So you DO know him." Gafgharion paced a few steps, his arms crossed and expression dissaproving. Finally he sighed and shook his head, "You're all stubborn as mules. Fine, whatever. Rad and I will come with you, but if something happens, don't come crying to me."


*


Mirai Bottoms was at the top of his game during the best of times. The current job was dressed like a Knight, or at least a member of the church and would look aristocratic if not for his dark hair, the color of chestnuts. He tapped in the hilt of his sword imaptiently as the young assasin counted the bills.

"500 gil?" Bottoms leveled his stare with the Knight's "Don't you think that's a bit low?"

The Knight's voice was deadpan and uninterested, "And what would you have me pay you?"

"I think that 2000 sounds like a more reasonable rate."

The Knight crossed his arms, settling his decision, 'It would be easy to make you all heretics, you know."

"Is that a threat?" Bottoms hesistated then, because if it were, it would be a valid one. He looked the Knight over again, this time noticing the strange insigna over his left breast, which most certainly could stand for a church of some sort, "Um, how about 1000?"

"700, no more." The Knight handed over the extra stack of bills before Bottoms could argue further. The mercenary flipped through them and sighed. 700 wasn't bad, but...

"They'll be through here anytime now. It'll be a young woman and an older man. They may or may not have two youths with them. Either way it's inconsequential. Kill them all, understand?"

Bottoms nodded eargerly, "Of course. That was the deal, wasn't it?"

Voices rounded the corner. It was unusual to see or hear folks round the back alleys during the day. The Knight's mouth crinkled up at the edges in what Bottoms would guess was a smile, "Speak of the devil..."


*


Agrias really was trying her hardest. To ignore Gafgharion's attempts at chatter, that was. She was wracking her brain senseless trying to figure out where the kidnapper would have taken the princess, she even tried asking the boy where his friend would go. Ramza just looked sad and shook his head, saying:

"I don't even know if it was him, and even so..."

The young mercenary seemed to have a few pointed problems with finishing his sentences. He'd start out as if he were certain, but at some point his voice would fade and his vision would grow dewy and distant. Agrias wondered if this was a permenant condition of his, or if his thoughts were just elsewhere, much like hers.

"Lady Oakes, a moment of your precious time?"

Agrias spun on her heel and shot Gafgharion a death look, "I have no time for you, Gaff. Since all you care about is money, how much gil would it take to seal your mouth shut?"

"Well, if that's really what you want." Gafgharion lowered his voice, "I just thought that you might want to know... we're being followed."

A hush fell upon the small group. Rad whimpered slightly and reached for his sword and Agrias scanned the alley sharply. They were taking the back streets as to avoid the prying eyes of any Nanten spy that might be around but upon reflection, this seemed like less and less a wise idea.

Sure enough, there were footsteps. They plodded softly somewhere to the far right and crunching rooftile. In the wake of silence, they sped up.

"Only one." Agrias whispered. Rad seemed to relax slightly at this, but he still kept his hand near his sword, "Dressed lightly and wearing germaines boots, probably. Doesn't sound like anything more than an overgrown thief who fancies himself an assasin in these hard times... still, draw your swords."

"Excuse me, Lady Oakes, but these are my men and I give the orders, and I don't usually do freebies." Gafgharion waited until Agrias's expression was one of ultimate seething to wink and finish his statement, "But for one so beautiful as you, I'll make an exception."

Gafgharion drew his sword and rose up in one fluid movement as the young assasin threw himself from the rooftop, double knives bared and face frantic. The fight was quick, the older mercenary's movements both graceful and deadly. The assasin was dead within two slashes. Rad watched with an admiring gaze as Gafgharion dutifully searched the young boy's pockets, turning up a thin stack of bills.

"Only 700?" Gafgharion pouted slightly, "I'm almost insulted. I've delivered milk and bread for more than this kid's job thought we were worth."

"Or it could have been a warning." Agrias stated rationally, "I don't think anyone would be stupid enough to set one assasin out after a Knight and three reasonably seasoned mercenaries. There's something more to it."

"And who would be trying to kill us, Lady Oakes?"

"I know!" Rad piped up enthusiastically, "Goltana!"

Agrias shook her head, "No, I don't think Goltana was behind this. He has more sense. If he wanted us dead, we'd be dead."

"What about the Knights at the castle?" Gafgharion challenged, "Did he not want us dead there?"

"That was just a distraction. He has the princess, what should he care that we follow now that he's taking her to a safe place."

"You know where that boy's taking the princess?" Gafgharion's tone was a little snide and most definitely dry.

"Later. There are too many curious ears about. Let us room for the night and I'll tell you all then."


*


The Inn was called the 'Final Heaven'. Ramza had never liked small Inns with dramatic names, they always made him think of people dressing themselves up to look like more than they were. Like when vain, rich ladies piled on the makeup. Captain Oakes wore no makeup. She was a good, sturdy woman and Ramza liked her quite a bit, though her ineffectual manner made her seem inapproachable. She payed for the room and board of course, under a fake name. After their things were put away and everything taken care of she dissapeared.

"Out to do some shopping." Gafgharion scoffed, "Women..."

Rad strayed behind the grizzled mercenary like a lost puppy, but Ramza left the Inn, anxious to get some fresh air and time alone to think. As he drifted through the dimly lit streets avoiding the more trafficked areas, he allowed his mind to linger on those less-desirable subjects.

'Delita...' little else seemed to come up, which was understandable since little else caused him conflict. He felt a little guilty as he had almost forgotten was his childhood friend looked like. Now he would always remember, because these things were important. Like the way Teta's hair would lift in the breeze and the warm sound of Delita's rare laughter. It was like morning sunlight and the way his long fingers worked ceaselessly as he played the pipe, or wrote out those impossibly long essays for school, or even wrung the bucket up from the well when he worked in the stables on Sundays. The inticrite way Zalbag wore his hair, all in braids and twists; or the quick, sharp movements of Dycedarg's cold eyes as he read; or even the petulant way Alma would clench her skirts in her small fists when she didn't get her way. Ramza had begun to forget everything about his siblings, even the ones who were still living.

'Have I become that numb?' he wondered, 'Have I almost become someone else?'

He nearly walked past the store without noticing Agrias's gold-blonde head ducked over the counter. He stopped and stared at her through the dirty window. She seemed to be concentrating on the examination of a wrapped sword, waving the chittery store clerk away as she looked. Ramza took a deep breath and entered the shop. A bell tinkled and the clerk looked up from Agrias and rushed to meet the new customer.

"Good evening sir, and what sort of weapon would you be looking for tonight, sir?"

Ramza shook his head apologetically, "No, I'm sorry. I just came in here because..."

"Ramza Ruglia, good to see you." Agrias glanced up from her work and sounded almost genuinely glad that Ramza had come, "Come here and tell me what you think of this sword."

Ramza ambled his way towards the table where the sword sat and looked it over. It was plain and gray-silver, probably iron cast, with a strip of leather wrapped several times over on the hilt. He wonddered what exactly he was supposed to be looking at, then answered, "Um... it's an okay sword, I guess... it's a bit boring."

"What kind of mercenary are you?" Agrias marvelled, "It's not the extravagance that matters. This is as fine a sword as you'll find anywheres. I was thinking of picking it up for you."

Ramza looked at her with surprise, "What? Why would you buy me a sword?"

"Here, give me yours." Ramza unhinged his blade a bit clumsily, then handed it to the female Knight. She stepped back and swung it in a wide arc, "You see, you're sword isn't properally balanced. You can't go around fighting with this. It may cost you your life."

"Rad's isn't any better than mine..."

"You'd be surprised... where did you get this anyways... please don't tell me you bought it."

Ramza almost slipped and told her that it was his training sword from Gariland before he caught himself, remebering that he was pretending not to be a noble, "Um, it's been passed down through my family for a while. It's was my great grandfather's, I think..."

Agrais's handed him back his sword with a skeptical and lofty gaze, "You don't expect me to believe that, do you? I know you're a noble."

"What!" Ramza wrung his hands together and shifted his gaze, "I'm not a... but... what gives you that idea?"

Agrias smiled thinly, "You're soft. And on top of that, you're not even excited about these jobs like Rad is. You could be out commanding an army right now if you really wanted, so it's no wonder that being a small-time merc doesn't thrill you."

Ramza shook his head, "No, it's not that, it's just..."

"Nevermind. It's not important, Ramza. I'm sorry I pried. I'm sure you have some very good reasons that are none of my business."

Agrias bought the sword and the two headed back to the Inn together in silence. Ramza ran his fingers over his new sword and thought about the one Zalbag had picked out for him. It felt the same, but there were carved vines down the blade and the hilt curved out like two ornamental wings. The sword Agrias had bought handled just as well, but it was only the basics. Ramza allowed his gaze to wander and noticed that for all her prestige and honor, Agrias's own sword was plain and un-decorated as well.

'I am soft, aren't I? I'm so transparent...' Ramza became suddenly self concious of the careful, uptight way he was walking and tried a more casual stride, 'I've got to learn how to be rough like Captain Oakes or Gafgharion. I'll need to learn how to be a warrior, how to live without praise...' Ramza's thoughts flickered back to the academy for a moment and he wondered what his old classmates were up to, 'I wonder what Delita would have... what he IS like now... he could probably pass for a mercenary easily. I'd bet he's a Knight by now...'

He gripped the sword tightly and bowed his head. Night was falling and they would be out before dawn. He would find out how Delita was changed soon enough.


*


"How do you know Gafgharion?" Rad asked giddily the moment Agrias and Ramza slid into the seats adjacent to him. Ramza had almost forgotten about Rad's burning curiosity towards that particular matter. He already had his own theories, that Gafgharion and Agrias had been tragic lovers years ago. Rad worshipped the older mercenary and admired Agrias the way little boys admire strong, beautiful women, and thought it rather romantic.

"Can't you see it, Ramza?" he whispered as the two Knights exchanged verbal blows ahead of them, "They really love each other!"

Agrias sighed heavily and nursed her beer, brushing a strand of twany, ill-kempt hair behind an ear in an act of rare delicacy. She really was a pretty woman, despite her coarse nature and unforgiving stares.

"Gaff Gafgharion and I met on a job four or five years ago. It was just after I became a Knight, cleaning up after the treaty had been signed."

"Five YEARS!?" Rad screeched, "How old are you?"

Agrais tipped her head at him, gaze icy and percise, "I'm only twenty-four. You can wipe that silly look off your face, Tupper."

Rad fixed his expression accordingly, then folded his hands in embarassment, "Anyways, about this job..."

"Well... Gafgharion and I worked together for nearly three months and he proved himself to be just the cold-hearted, impertinent bastard I grew to know him as."

"And..."

"And that was that. End of story."

Ramza got the distinct feeling that it was indeed NOT the end of the story, but before he could say so Gafgharion plopped himself in the one empty seat at their table, a firm grip on a mug of ill colored ale.

"Ho Ramza, Rad! Lady Oakes!" Agrias's expression became that of absolute stress and she quietly removed herself from the gathering, "Drink your brew and be merry!" he called after her.

She left the bar area without so much as a glance over her shoulder. When she was gone, Gafgharion looked at Rad and Ramza meaningfully and whistled, "She's a cold one, Lady Oakes is, but a more right woman you won't find anywheres. Trust me, I've looked. She's the face of an angel and the temper of a caged tiger. She'd as soon run her sword through you than give you the time of day." he took a deep swig of his drink. His tone darkened, "And believe me, I've tried..."

Rad's eyes widened and he looked at Ramza excitedly, mouthing: 'I told you so.'

Ramza, however, was the one who asked, "You mean... you tried to court her?"

Gafgharion nodded somberly, "One of the more misguided things I've done in my life."

"But... but..." Ramza stuttered, "She was, what?"

"Seventeen. You never would have thought it, though."

"And you... you're old!"

"HEY!" Gafgharion slammed his beer on the table sending little tufts of foam flying, "I take that as a personal offense, boy. This old dog isn't so far gone that he can't land himself a woman now and then. Lady Oakes is just one woman that's never meant to be tamed." he smiled then, "And maybe that's what I find so attractive about her."

Ramza shook his head, not sure what to think anymore. When he, Rad and Gafgharion finally chose to retire they found Agrais already seated on her bed, armour off and sitting crosslegged as she stared out the window. It was a bit strange, sleeping with a woman in the room, but Ramza soon realized that Agrias was used to being the only female among a troop of men. Rad and Ramza took the remaining bed and Gafgharion simply opted to fall asleep sititng up in the armchair. When all was quiet and Ramza was on the edge of slumber, Agrias's soft voice broke through.

"Bethla..." she said, her voice small in the opressive darkness, "They're taking Ovelia to Bethla Garrison."










II.

'Oh God, forgive my brethern their mistakes
For they know not what they do
With all the suffering in this world
How can one man be everywhere to heal them?'
- The Writings of St. Ajora, Glabados Chruch










Ovelia shuddered, though her kidnapper had already given her his thick travelling cloak. The night was still young, the stars not yet finished unfolding themselves in the darkening sky. "Do we have to keep going through the night?" she complained, "I'm tired. And we haven't eaten yet. For someone claiming that they're trying to save me, you're not doing a very good job of it."

The words had their desired effect. Her captor stopped a few paces ahead of her and groaned fustratedly. If she couldn't do a thing to relieve herself of this perdiciment, she was at least intent on making it as miserable for this mysterious young man as it was for her. He turned and stared at her quietly as if trying to unravel her intentions, then dropped to his knees and began to build a fire.

Ovelia was confused, but she sat slowly and watched him as he worked swiftly and silently. As his slender, muscular arms moved beneath his plain-weave shirt she took in the smaller details: his skin was coarse like a farm-worker's and he was covered in scars from his neck down. They didn't look as if they were from sword-fighting, they were too patchy and dark. Burn marks, maybe? He had very long, deft fingers and everything about him was serious and sharply-cut. He finally produced a flame and sat, with one knee drawn up and his left arm swung over it casually. His dark, amber eyes glistened in the fire looking almost red and the flames caught all the angles in his severe face.

Ovelia caught herself before she could think him handsome. She heard about that happening before, princesses falling for their captors but she couldn't afford having those sorts of feelings about this boy, as different as he was from anyone she had ever met. The only dark haired people she had ever known had been Olan Durai and Teta Hyral from the monastery. Teta mostly stayed close to Alma Beoulve and no one liked her much because they all knew she was a commoner. She was a sweet girl nontheless, soft-spoken and smart. Something had happened to her over their spring break, though, and she never returned. Alma never wanted to talk about it and the other girls didn't care enough to ask.

"We'll have to wait until we reach the trade city tommorow afternoon before we can get any food. Can you hold out that long?"

Ovelia blinked. They'd been travelling so long in silence that she hadn't expected him to speak to her, "That's nearly two days." she said, "I've never been so long without food. It doesn't seem natural."

"Would her highness like me to go spear a wild goblin? Or perhaps she prefers Chocobo meat?"

Ovelia couldn't tell if the boy was being sarcastic, or if he actually meant what he said. She could bear the thought of eating wild-caught food less than the thought of not eating, so she didn't answer. After a moment, she said, "You don't have to mock me. I'm sorry I've lead a sheltered life, I'm just not used to these conditions. I've never slept outside before."

"How do you know my upbringing was rough?" The dark haired boy challenged, "How do you know I'm a commoner... after all, I was trusted with this assignment."

Ovelia raised her auburn eyes, fluttering her eyelashes slighly, "Oh, I'm sorry. It's just... I was taught that old Murondic people were either all with the church or... well..."

Her captor looked away then. The firelight illuminated his profile and she noticed that he had a sharp nose and long eyelashes, "What's your name?" she asked on a whim.

He still refused to look at her and hesitated in answering, "... Delita." he gave no surname.

" 'One who must be approached delicately'." The name sounded strangely familiar to her ears, "That name suits you."

"You don't know anything about me."

"That's true..." Ovelia said softly, watching the stars through the canopy of trees above them, "But I'd like to. Like... are you friend, or foe?"

He finally looked at her. His gaze was so intense that it unsettled Ovelia, yet she found it oddly exciting to have those eyes on her with such focus, "I'm human, Princess, just like you."

Ovelia swallowed his cryptic answer but couldn't shake her gaze from his. He broke it off, laying back in the pine needles and moss and sighing loudly, "You should get some sleep, Princess. We've got a long journey ahead of us tommorow, and since I let the chocobo go we're doing it all on foot."

Ovelia laid back too, hugging herself within the folds of Delita's cloak, "Where are we going?"

"Go to sleep, Princess."

She decided not to pursue the subject any further. Instead she closed her eyes and thought about happier times, back in the monastery. She thought about Teta Hyral and how she would sing sometimes, when she thought no one was listening. Teta had an older brother, Ovelia wondered what happened to him, if he knew what happened to his sister. Somehow, her thoughts wandered further and her last thought in that weary, blurry half-asleep state was that the faint odor of hay and hickorey lingering on the cloak must the scent of it's owner.


*


When Ovelia awoke the next morning that fire had already been put out and Delita was sitting a few feet away, carving out a piece of driftwood into the shape of a pipe. She yawned and sat up, content to examine him while he whittled with his belt-knife.

"What are you making?" she finally asked.

"A reed pipe."

"Why?"

Delita stopped carving but his gaze never left the half-made pipe, "I thought of something last night. An old friend. I used to play the pipe." he tucked his knife back into his belt and stood, handing Ovelia the fluted wood, "Here. The cloak you're wearing is the only pockets we have between us. I don't want to lose it." he then helped the Princess to her feet and they began to walk.

Ovelia spent the entire morning fingering the pipe at the bottom of her pocket. It wasn't done, but the middle was already hollowed. It could probably produce sound, but hadn't been shaped properally yet to make melodies. Ahead of her Delita moved ceaselessly, his shoulders rising and falling as he walked, pushing the overhanging tree branches out of the path only he could see. As she watched his tall figure sway through the trees she wondered what he had suffered in his life to make him such a solemn person. His face looked as if it hadn't smiled for years and his eyes were so lonely.

Suddenly, he spun and drew his sword. Ovelia jumped back, only to find her shoulders gripped by strong, gloved hands. She yelped and tried to run, but was held back stiffly by the Knight behind her.

"Dammnit!" Delita shouted, "I knew we should have taken the path through the foot hills!"

"What's going on?" Ovelia twisted in the Knight's grasp a dozen or so more men stepped out from the undergrowth.

"Put down the sword stable boy. Let me remind you the only reason we don't slit your throat is because we need you as a 'witness'."

Delita' eyes were weary, but he sheathed his sword. He kept his gaze high, so it wasn't so much a surrender as a concession. He too was taken hold of by a burly Knight and forced back to walk side by side with Ovelia.

"Don't worry, Princess," he murmered, swaying closer as they walked, "This is only temporary. I'll get you out of this."

Ovelia nodded, not sure why she trusted his words but feeling duly reassured. Then she looked at the Knights, closely and caught something that nearly made her gasp.

They were wearing the White Lion of Prince Larg on their uniforms... they were Hokuten. Her uncle's men!


*


"If they took the path through the foothills we'll never catch them." Gafgharion grumbled childishly, "This is just a stupid idea. The Hokuten will take care of it. We'll end up at Bethla before them, and then what? We fight the entire Nanten army on their own? I wouldn't normally challenge your judgement, Lady Oakes, but..."

"What are you talking about, Gafgharion?" Agrias retorted, "You always challenge my judgement."

"Yes, but usually I just do that because you're quite fetching when you're murderous. But this time, I actually think that you're very, very wrong."

Agrias chose to ignore both statements and looked forwards steadily at the unchanging landscape. After a few moments, she stopped and put her hand up to silence any questions before they were formed, "Do you hear that?" she asked, "It sounds like... Princess Ovelia!" she turned her head slightly and gestured to the men before running towards the source of the voices. Gafgharion and Ramza kept her pace easily, but Rad tripped noisily and clumsily over himself until they reached the rocky foot of an outcrop.

They were at the bottom of the foothills and above them they could see a small waterfall and a bridge cluttered by Hokuten soldiers. In the center of the hubbled mass were s bound Princess Ovelia and her mysterious dark-haired kidnapper. As they quietly made their way up towards the bridge the argument met their ears.

"If you'd just cooperate we'll spare your life. It's not in our orders to execute you."

"That's a lie and you know it. Your orders were to kill her! Then after that, you'll kill me for knowing the truth!"

"Ridiculous! We came to help the Princess! Why would we want to kill her? You honestly don't think we'd let Goltana keep her as a bargaining chip?"

"Princess Ovelia!" Agrias's cry stopped the conversation and the Hokuten Knights turned their heads in surprise. The ring leader sighed heavily and massaged his temples.

"Great. This is all we need... Gafgharion, kill them all and do it now!"

Gafgharion drew his sword and Agrias gaped at him looking decidely betrayed. He shrugged simply, "Don't know what's going on but it's in the contract."

"What do you mean 'it's in the contract'!?"

"Exactly what I said, sweetcheeks. No offense, but it's part of the job."

"You mean... you're betraying us?"

Gafgharion swung his sword over his shoulder casually and rubbed the back of his neck, "Betraying you? Never Lady Oakes, never. This is business Our job description was the kidnap the Princess, ahem, unharmed... then to kill you and keep it quiet."

Agrais narrowed her eyes, "What are you getting at? The kidnapping's a sham?"

Gafgharion rolled his eyes, "Of course! The Princess is in the way! The Prince should be the next in line, if she's left alive there'll just be more problems. Don't you see, Agrias, we're doing this for the stability of the country."

Agrais snorted and met his eyes with fire, "You don't really believe that. You'd do anything for money, you're not even sure of this. The Princess may be adopted, but she's still loyalty."

Gafgharion met her glare and leaned forwards so that he was nearly on her level, "Ah, Lady Oakes, so world weary yet so niave... even Princesses can die for getting in the way! That's what royal blood is all about!"

Agrais drew back in disgust, "Are you mocking the royal family!?"

"Get in the way and get killed. It's the same for commoners. The only difference is people you," he pointed his sword hilt in Agrias's direction, "Pledging blind loyalty. Unless you make it to the top you, you're onyl going to be used so you're better off dead anyways!"

Agrias turned her head away, fists clenched tightly at her side.

Ramza spoke up. He turned to the youngest mercenary, Rad, who had pulled his tattered cap down over his forehead, "Rad... did you know about this?"

The boy blinked then nodded hesistantly. Ramza turned on Gafgharion, "Why? Why such a dirty trick!?"

Gafgharion chuckled harshly, "Dirty!? There's no 'dirty' when it comes to business. We're mercenaries, we do what we're hired to do and follow through no matter what. It's called 'being a proffesional'."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"If I told you, Ramza," Gafgharion said, voice taking on a condescending tone, "Wouldn't you have tried to stop me? You asked me to help you out, so I did my part, but don't you understand that if I don't do this, someone else will? People die all the time without you even knowing about it... that's reality, boy! You really think you can stop something you know nothing about?"

Ramza bit his lip, "But... but does that really make it right?"

Gafgharion swung his sword off from over his shoulder in a gesture of fustration, "No buts!" he shouted, "You're nothing but a child who doesn't want to face reality! If you don't like it why don't you try living without depending on someone else for a change, otherwise you're going to continue getting caught up in these situations that have nothing to do with you!"

During the exchange, the dark-haired Knight had apparently slipped free of his bonds. As Ramza hung his head, the Princess's kidnapper broke free from the grip of the Knight who held him and rna his sword through the Knight's ringleader. He grabbed the Princess and shoved her off the bridge. She yelped half in shock, half in fear but it wasn't a far way down to the ground.

"Well, this is lovely and all." the Knight commented testily, "But since we're probably all going to die anyways, we should at least fight together." The remaining Hokuten backed away a bit from the young Knight as he spoke, lost without their leader, "If the Princess is kidnapped by Goltana, they'll be rid of her and his rivals. I'm sure that's how Larg wrote the scenario." he laughed shortly, "Actually, no, Dycedarg Beoulve probably wrote it, don't you agree Ramza?"

Ramza raised his eyes and stared at the Knight for a long moment. Gafgharion reached out and took his shoulder, "Come now Ramza, Rad." he said roughly, "Let's take them."

Rad pushed his cap up from his eyes and nodded nervously, "Yes sir!", but Ramza shook his head slowly.

"Another helpless sacrifice..." he muttered.

"What's you problem?" Gafgharion tightened his fingers around Ramza's shoulder and lowered his voice, "You're in my debt, Ramza, remember that. I could very easily make your life a lot harder than it already is."

Ramza pulled away and drew his sword in one swirft movement. Agrais had been right, his new blade was a lot easier to handle than his old one had been, "I refuse to take part in any more bloodshed, especially sensless bloodshed like this!" the young boy's voice was tinted with true viciousness, his vision red around the edges. He could feel the rage bubbling up inside of him, all frothy and iron hot. His grip on his sword quivered, but he stood firm.

On the other side of the bridge, an older Hokuten nodded and snapped his fingers, "Pull out!" he commanded, waving his arm above his head, "Gafgharion, I'll trust you to clean up!"

Gafgharion's attention was pulled away from Ramza as the Hokuten retreated, leaving behind their dead commander. His face fell and he lowered his sword, "Wait!" he hollered after the soldiers as they left, "Wait! These weren't your orders!"

Agrais gently pushed Ramza out of the way and grabbed Gafgharion roughly by the arm, twisting it so that his sword was disarmed. He grunted as she began to bind his arms, "Not so rough, Lady Oakes." he joked halfheartedly, "I'm delicate, you know."

"You're a bastard." she hissed, tugging on the rope as she bent his arms behind his back, "You're a dog of war, nothing more. You make me sick."

"I'm not going to try to kill you, Captain. The Hokuten abandoned me. The deal's off, I doubt I'm even going to get payed for this. It's a shame, you know, because I was quite enjoying our time together."

"Shut up Gafgharion."

"No, really. I mean it..." He twisted his head back so that he caught glance of Agrais from the corner of his vision, "You know..." he began suggestively, "I'm a free agent now..."

She pushed him away from her and moved onto Rad who bent his head submissively. Agrais was less violent with him, but when he turned to look at her afterwards her gaze was unforgiving.

Ovelia's Knight had already made his way down the hill to tend to the fallen Princess. She was a bit ruffled with scratches and bruises here and there, but she was alive at least. Ramza followed after them, running down the hill without even waiting for Agrias's word. When he at last tumbled to the bottom, nearly falling over himself, he stopped and stared.

The dark haired Knight rose up to stare back and crossed his arms lazily, a slight grin tugging at his lips. Ramza inhaled sharply and stepped forwards, restraining himself from reaching out a touching the boy, just to make sure he was really there. "Delita." he said finally, "Delita... you're alive."

Finally, Delita's grin broke. It wasn't a glad grin though, it was tinged bittersweet and lined with loss, "Imagine meeting you here! 'Ramza the mercenary'." he laughed like it was a joke. Which didn't hurt too much, because when Ramza thought about it, it was. He tried to smile but only felt his eyes dew at the corners, "Tell me, are your brothers still running your life?"

Delita spoke as if nothing unusual had happened. He spoke as if they had just seen each other the day before at school and they could joke and laugh and pretend it was old times. Ramza wanted to scream. He wanted to bury Delita in frantic questions: 'How did you survive? What happened after Zeakden? How did you integrate yourself into Goltana's army? What the hell are you doing here? Are you okay? Does your sister's death still hurt? Do you miss her? Did you miss me? Do you hate me?' but instead he swallowed his tears and shrugged, "I don't know. They never tell me anything." he gulped, "But, um, Delita, if you don't mind me asking... why are you party to their plot?"

Delita widened his eyes, "What are you talking about? Don't be foolish Ramza! I'm here to rescue the Princess! To free her from those who are exploiting her."

Princess Ovelia looked at him when he said this. Her eyes were misty and her gaze a bit uncertain. Ramza couldn't discearn whether she admired him or was simply trying to figue out whether he was telling the truth or not. Ramza himself was unsure, as much as he hated to admit it. Delita had a way of twisting the truth so that it worked the way he wanted it to.

Gafgharion chuckled, having been standing there for some time under Agrias's watchful eye, "This kid's almost as good a liar as I am! Now, tell us the truth... who hired you?"

Delita's dark gaze, unnerving as always, set itself on Gafgharion, "I'm not like you." he said softly, "I'm not doing this for money."

"Then who are you, hmm?" Gafgharion shifted beneath his bonds and gave Delita an incredelous look, "Some kid who heard the plan and decided to save her for JUSTICE? You've got to be kidding me... now talk. Who hired you?"

Agrais gripped the mercenary's arm and jerked him violently so that he nearly fell down, "His plans are none of your business. You seem to be forgetting that you're a prisoner."

"And you seem to be forgetting that this boy kidnapped the Princess!" Gafgharion straightened himself again and towered over Agrias angrily, "I'm just being catious. I don't even know why I try to protect you."

Agrais stared up at him defiantly before spinning him around and cutting his bonds with her belt knife. She did the same with Rad, "Get the hell out of here, Gaff." she spat, "I never want to see you again."

Rad's face lit up, but Gafgharion only glowered, rubbing the bare spots on his wrists between his gloves and armor where the bonds had been. When he realized that the Captain was serious, he bowed deeply, "Well, whatever the Lady commandes I am compelled to obey. But don't place too much faith on never seeing me again. Our paths have a bad habit of crossing." he raised his head and nodded at Ramza, "See you round' Ramza. Take care of yourself." he then bowed again, mockery complete, "By your leave, m'lady?"

Agrais turned her nose up at him and he left, Rad in tow. The boy turned one more time and waved to Ramza before running off after his commander. Ramza felt mild remorse, after all Gafgharion had kept his identity a secret up until the end and taken care of him for nearly five months, 'Does this make me ungrateful? Should I have sided with Gafgharion and fought Delita and Agrias? Assasinated the Princess?' all his doubts we stowed as Ovelia ambled her way towards Agrais with a slight limp from her fall. She looked up thankfully at Ramza as she passed, soft eyes veiled by her thick eyelashes. She hadn't done anything wrong and hardly deserved to die. Ramza had done the right thing.

"Leave the Princess with me. It's better for her."

Agrias and Ramza both stared at him in shock. Ramza shook his head, "What are you scheming Delita..."

Delita seemed almost hurt, "Ramza, I really am telling the truth. What has amde you so suspicious." Ramza glanced down guiltly and Delita continued, addressing Agrais, "Think about it, Captain Oakes. Where would you take her after making an enermy of the Hokuten? Once they realize you lived Crack Hokuten troops will be out lloking for you. Just where do you plan on escaping to?"

Agrais was speechless. Ovelia looked at her gaurdian curiously, then back at Delita, "Think carefull, Captain." the dark-haired boy continued, "You know Prince Larg was in on this. The royal family is not on your side."

"And Goltana would just execute us to clear his own name." Agrias muttered bitterly, seeing the hopelessness of the situation.

"Exactly."

She looked at Delita with an expresssion lost somewhere between respect and loathing, "Well... what would you do?" she asked.

Delita looked at the broken bridge above them, "I do what you can't do, Captain Oakes."

"What do you mean?"

He leveled his gaze and for a moment and emotion flickered briefly in his eyes, "I... I can't tell you that..." he shrugged and uncrossed his arms, "Well... I suppose I'll leave the Princess with you a bit longer then... I have some matters to attend to." he turned to leave, but Ramza called after him.

"Delita! Wait!" Delita stopped, but didn't face him, "I'm... I'm glad I could see you again..."

"You cut your hair." Delita replied and Ramza fingered his ponytail. It just brushed his shoulders now. When he was young he had let it grow out nearly to his waist, "Dycedarg had been trying to get you to do that for years. I guess you decided on your own."

Ramza let his fingers fall from the short cropped hair. The truth was that most of his hair had been damaged at Fort Zeakden and had to be chopped off. He didn't allow it to grow out again in memory of Teta and Delita.

Ovelia rushed forwards, the bundled folds of her the bulky travelling cloak she wore fell, revealing her delicate, white gown. She set her feet and brushed a strand of dirty blonde hair out from her eyes, "Thank you, Sir Delita."

"See you around, Ramza."

The three watched him until his figure was nothing more than a shadow on the horizen. Then Agrias finally sheathed her sword completely and breathed as if the world had just been lifted off of her shoulders.

"Thank you for your support, Ramza, but are you sure you want to make an enemy of the Hokuten?"

"Don't worry, I've already decided," he said quietly, "It won't be as bad for me anyways. I'm just an insignificant mercenary. You were a Hokuten Captain. I'd hate to think of the warrant out on your head." he lied through his teeth. He decided that he most definitely was not as good at it as Delita, "The only question left is what should we do now? Like Delita said, no one will help us..."

"I've already throught that through." Agrais cut him off, "We could go to Cardinal Draclau. Glabaos Chruch had jurisdiction over Lionel. They might just be able to help. The Hokuten will have to be careful where they step that far over the border. It's the only place for us..."










III.

'The bearer of Tauras must be pure of mind
Wisdom, responsibility and integreity were his virtues
And also he posessed an Earth-strong
Stubborn nature'
-The Ledgend of the Zodiac Braves










Autumn set in and so the mines were opened again. They were dusty and dark and sometimes Mustadio forgot what he looked like. He gazed into the polished mirror determined to memorize his face this time. It was his seventeenth birthday and with October just around the corner his next six month mining term was about to begin.

'I'm quite good looking.' he reflected, pulling his yellow hair back into a tight pony-tail, 'And all these years of hard work and malnutrition have given me a slim but muscular figure. If only I didn't have to spend all my ruddy time underground, I'm sure I'd have girls at my beck and call.'

"Are you wasting your day away at that damn mirror again?" Besrodio's light-hearted voice drifted into Mustadio's room as the man poked his head through the door, "You've grown rather vain since they sent you back up to the surface this summer. What's going on?"

Mustadio groaned and pushed himself away from the mirror, placing his hands on his hips and giving his father a cross stare, "Dad, I'm young you know. Just because you were content to whittle away your prime in that hellhole doesn't mean I have to grow up to be a lonely old eccentric."

Besrodio laughed heartily and wrapped a thick arm around his son's small shoulders, leading him out into the hallway of their small house, "Do you really think that I wasn't a girl magnet in my day? I was a handsome and charming young fellow... but you are a different story, my son. You have far too much of your mother in your face and figure. Girls are looking for the manly type nowadays," he stopped laughing and his tone turned deadly serious, "But you never know, Mustadio, you might be able to pick some of the older, single men down at the mines this winter. December is a long, cold, lonely month."

Mustadio pulled away from his father's arm and rolled his eyes, "Just more proof that the world hates me... out of my two parents only the cruel one survives. Mom was much nicer to me, you know." he stuck out his tounge as he slid into a rickety, wooden able chair. He folded his hands on table and said, "So, anyways, where's my birthday present?"

Besrodio was in the process of drinking the remaining, week-old milk from the jar. He eyed Mustadio abruptly and a dribble of milk ran down his chin as he slammed the bottle on the counter nervously, "What birthday present!?" he demanded, wiping the milk from his gotee with his sleeve.

Mustadio buried his face in his hands and calmed himself. It was a ritual, almost. His father did it every year and although it genuinely scared him when he was little it had begun to wear a bit thin. As per procedure he raised his head and replied with very little intonation, "What. Father you did not remember? Today was the day I turned seventeen. Oh, how horrible this is, that a father should forget his own son's birthday. How absolutely tragic. I am amiss."

Besrodio sat oppsite Mustadio, milk jug still in his hands, and shook his head, "I'm serious this year. I really didn't get you a gift. I mean, last year I fixed up that old pistol for you as a sort of right of passage. You're a man now."

"Then why do you insist that I'm actually a woman? Really, father, you're hardly consistent."

"I say that you're a woman because right now you're pouting like a little girl. Where did I go wrong? Did I spoil you as a child?"

Mustadio glanced at his ratty clothes quickly, then laughed, "Well, it's hard to spoil a kid when you're this poor."

Besrodio also laughed, "Yes, but we're happy and isn't that all that matters?"

Mustadio's expression grew slighlty miffed and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head, "Well, you could have at least warned me so that I didn't get my hopes up. If I'm so adult now, why don't you just let me move out on my own."

"Because until you turn eighteen and your contract with the mine is up you don't legally make enough money to buy water."

"That's the problem with Goug." Mustadio sighed, "Those damn mines... all the children forced to work in them until they reach eighteen, and by then everyone's too worn and tired to leave."

Besrodio's face grew stern, "You want to leave Goug?"

Mustadio let his head fall to the side and he watched the steady mass of people float by in the crowded streets through their soot-stained windows. Most of them had dark hair and dirty complexions, more than anywhere in Ivalice. Most of Lionel laid on the border of what was once Murond. Some of the land, including Goug and the surrounding Barius high and lowlands, were considered Murondic in the older atlases. Mustadio had known more pureblood Murond families than Lionelian and could even speak of bit of the 'old tounge', yet he never felt out of place, "No... I could never leave Goug. The soot and steam is in my blood and if I hate the laws, I love the city."

Besrodio observed the silence. It happened between them every so often as much as they tried to avoid these sacred moments. It reminded them too much of the Mother and Wife they had lost. It was important to always keep the cheerful banter up and never to cry in front of each other and they strayed away from any serious topic like the plauge.

Besrodio coughed loudly, forcing his face into a wide, fake grin, "Well... I may have forgotten your birthday gift, but there is something I've been meaning to show you for a while now. Come, let's go to my workshop, I'm sure you'll love it!"


*


Besrodio's 'workshop' was nothing more than four slanted walls and a thin roof that had been tacked on to the main house when Mustadio had started working in the mines. Besrodio got bored when his son was out for most of the year, so took up tinkering with machines as a pastime of sorts. The roof always had to be fixed up when it rained and there were no windows, but there was plenty of space and a desk built into the left wall.

"I found this in the mine a few weeks back just before your term was up." he lifted the stone delicately and placed it in his son's warm palms, "It's a curious thing. Makes the machines go all wild. I had to pocket it and leave quickly before the warden's caught me."

Mustadio held the stone up to the slanted light that fell through a large hole in the roof. It was orangey and reflected the light funny- as if it stole a bit of them beam's glow before sending it off on it's way, "You mean you stole it?"

"It's just a stone." Besrodio replied defensively, "I doubt anyone's going to miss it."

"Hmph. A blind man could tell that this is no ordinary stone. If anyone finds out you have this we're going to be in some mad trouble." Mustadio turned the stone catching it from a different angle. There seemd to be some sort of symblo carved into the center of it. He squinted to read it.

"I wanted to conduct some experiments with it before telling anyone." Besrodio paused, "Oh, and if you're wondering the engraving is the symbol for 'Tauraus'. It's a Zodiac symbol."

Mustadio's eyes popped out and his jaw dropped. He stared past the stone at his father agast, "What did you just say?"

" 'The color of warm earth, stern and steady the bearer of the Zodiac Stone Tauraus must be...' " Besrodio quoted the old story. Everyone knew it, of course, but it had never occured to Mustadio that it might be true. Only religious fantics believed all that rot about the twelve Holy Warriors who banded together using the strength of the Zodiac to defeat the evil King of Murond, then were ressurected to form St. Ajora's disciples, and there were no religious people in Goug. But still, hearing his father quote the story as he stared at the strange stone in his hand, Mustadio began to doubt.

"There's got to be another explanation, Dad." he said breathlessly, cupping the stone in one hand, "Let's no jump to such fantastical conclusions."

Besrodio pouted jokingly, "Oh, come now Mustadio, it's so much fun!"

"Dad, be serious here a moment! You said you wanted to conduct experiment before saying anything. What did you mean by that?"

Besrodio paced as he spoke. He always grew excited when speaking about anything even remotely scientific. Mustadio often though his father should've taken up Chemistry, "Well, it's just an idea, but I would have to do it systematically to properally record the effect of the stone in different conditions..."

"No, no, no!" Mustadio interrupted before his father could get lost in his mutterings, "That's not what I meant! I meant... where and when? How do you intend to do these experiments?"

Besrodio blinked, "Well... in the mine of course."

Mustadio shook his head, "Dad, you're not supposed to be down there at all except in off season of weekends. How the hell are you going to find the time."

"I'll manage."

"No, let me do it!" Besrodio was stunned silent and Mustadio continued speaking excitedly, "I'll be down there every day and every night until March! I'll have unrestricted access to the machines since I'm nearly done my contract so I'll be in the perfect position. Anyways, the warden's have already given you warnings but my record's perfect!"

"Mustadio! It's two dangerous!"

Mustadio giggled, "No it isn't, that's the point. I promise I won't screw anything up, just slip me your notes before I head down next week and I'll be back in March with all the information you could ever want on this doohickey!"

Besrodio opened his mouth like he wanted to object, but gave up, "There's no arguing with you when you've made your mind up... fastidious and charming... whatever your mother was thinking when she said she wanted a child born on the cusp of Virgo and Libra I'll never understand."

"Don't worry, Father, you've put your research into good hands." but as Mustadio pocketed the steon his thoughts were on anything but scientific progress. His curiosity had been piqued and he figured that if he had some sort of guide, he might possibly be able to find other 'Zodiac Stones' and prove beyond doubt whether the silly ledgend was true or not.


*


December was definitely the worst month to be caught working. The cold seeped down into the stone and settled with a chill that lasted until spring. The warden's never provided the workers with cloaks so everyone pushed extra hard just so they would sweat so hard that the cold would be welcome when they shivered beneath their thin, canvas sheets. If the young workers had been Gariland students they would have been preparing to go home for Winter Holidays, but for the Goug children all they had too look forwards to was another three and a half months until their six week leave.

Mustadio drank the sooty water from his canteen and rubbed the Zodiac stone thoughtfully as a few other workers discussed current events. He wanted badly for a mirror and wondered what a mess he would look, with his skin all smudged and his hair stained black from the steam. "Dad's right,' he chuckled inwardly, 'I have become vain.'

"I heard that the King's died." a younger worker whispered suddenly into the conversation, "No sign of war yet, but the conflict between Larg and Goltana grows more vicious every day..."

"Ha." an older girl laughed without passion, "That news is probably out of date. I'm not surprised if the war's already been fought and won by now."

"Who are you bets on, Mauri?" a boy about Mustadio's age wondered.

"Goltana, of course." the girl sniffed, "He's blood related to the King after all."

"Nah!" The boy snickered, "Larg's got the support of the Beoulves and he's the Queen's brother... besides, there's also those rumours..."

"What rumours?"

"Well, I heard that..."

"Excuse me." the gathering of children looked up to see a troup of richly dressed men come forwards in the darkness. They were mostly blonde, except for their leader, an overweight man who's hair was the color of dust in the darkness. They all wore expression that clearly said these children were scum of the earth in their opinion, "We're looking for a young man named Mustadio Bununza. Do any of you know him?"

For once, Mustadio was thankful for the annonymity of the mines. He was quite sure none of these other kids knew his name and with all the soot and dim lighting he looked just as dark haired as the others. But then the girl spoke up, "Oh, you mean Mustard boy back there?" she jerked her thumb at Mustadio and he remembered her- Mauri Ronf from his thursday detail, "You don't want anything to do with him. He's just plain trouble."

"Yes." the hefty man drawled, speaking as though his voice came through his nose rather than his mouth, "I know...."

All at once Mustadio realize what this was all about. The stone. He paled, hoping that the other's wouldn't see the beads of sweat forming on his forehead through the dust, "Oh shit."


*


Princess Ovelia didn't eat like a lady. Oh, Ramza was quite sure that she probably did at the best of times, but here in the Goland Inn after two days without food and protected by her secret identity she ate like an animal half starved to death.

Agrais gave Ramza a meaningful look across that table that the boy didn't quite understand, but ti probably had something to do with the fact that Ovelia hadn't once even made a motion to removed the dirty cloak still slung over her shoulders. It was definitely Delita's, as it exactly matched the one Ramza himself was wearing. The cloaks they had bought on route to Zeakden a year earlier. The Princess did indeed seem taken with her kidnapper which worried Agrias to no end.

"She would have followed him off a cliff had he asked her to." the Knight shook her head, "I just don't understand what Princesses see in the dark, tortured and abusive type. They're merciless charmers, I suppose..."

Ramza had wanted to tell her that Delita wasn't like that, but he bit his lip because if he were to be honest with himself, he just didn't know anymore.

'What can a year do to a person?' he wondered as Ovelia shoveled down her third helping of carrot-mash stew, 'Can it twist someone so out of shape that even their best friend would never recognize them if they spoke? Can it take despair and turn it into maliciousness, warp kind natures into manipulative ones? What has a year done to me... didn't I used to have hope.' he sunk into his chair, burying his face in the wolly arms of his cloak, 'Maybe I should have gone back to Zeakden after Zalbag found me. Maybe if I looked hard enough I would have found Delita and we could have given Teta and Algus proper funerals and made Dycedarg apologize and then everything would have been happy and perfect again.' he closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of damp wool and spring, 'God... even I don't believe that anymore... Gafgharion's right. I'm just a stupid child who doesn't know how to take care of himself. Even now I'm pretending to help Agrias save the Princess, but really, I'm just looking for her to take care of me like Gafgharion did... like Delita and my brothers used to.'

"I... I think I'll go to bed now." Ovelia said softly, half rising from her seat. Both Ramza and Agrias looked up, having finished their meals long before.

"Princess, the sun has not even gone down yet. We still have some shopping left to do."

Ovelia nodded, "Yes, I know. You and Mr. Ruglia can go on without me. I haven't slept in a proper bed for a few nights and I am quite exhausted."

"Please, call me by my name." Ramza insisted. He hated hearing his fake named used in general speech. It sounded like a lie, stinging everytime it fell from someone's lips.

The Princess smiled sweetly, "Okay... Ramza..." Agrias furrowed her brow, but Ovelia was adament, "Please Agrias, I'll be fine. I doubt there are any Hokuten in Goland. Besides, you don;t want to leave it all up to the man here. Males can't ever be trusted with anything."

It was meant to be a harmless tease, but Ramza turned bright red. He had never been refered to as a man before and it surprised him, afterall, he was barely seventeen years old. Ovelia said her goodnights and he and Agrias headed out with an extensive list of Potions and salted foods to last the long journey to Lionel.

"Why did you turn against Gafgharion?" Agrias asked after some time. She didn't look up from her list, just asked as if it were an offhanded sort of thing. Ramza froze up, unable to answer. Was she questioning his loyalty?

"Um... well... it's just that what he was doing was so... wrong."

Agrias nodded gravely, "You're a good person, Ramza. Now that I know that, I trust you more than anyone."

Ramza was shocked, "Why is that, Captain?"

"Because as long as I'm doing the right thing, you won't betray me. If I do something to lose your loyalty it means that I've strayed from the path of light and I deserve punishment." she glance dup from her list, ice-blue eyes strangely warm, "I'm trying to say that you have a conscience, Ramza, unlike most people who have seen a battle first hand."

"That's funny, Captain, because I always just assumed that you knew what you were doing."

Agrais shrugged, "Well, we all make mistakes now and then. If you're like me and have a sense for war, sometimes the lines between right and wrong blur. That's why we need more people like you in the world. You're not a warrior, Ramza, but at least you understand justice."

Delita's words came back to him, 'There are things more important in life than warfare, Ramza'. Was this what his father had meant when he told him to be a just man?

"Thank you, Captain Oakes, I..."

"Don't call me that anymore. I am no longer Hokuten, Ramza. I have no rank. I am simply Agrias now."

Ramza nodded but silenlty balked at the idea of calling her by her given name. She may only have been twenty-four years old, but Gafgharion was right about one thing- she carried herself like a seasoned general who should be treated with the upmost respect. Despite the fact she no longer belonged to any army, she still held rank in Ramza's eyes.

Suddenly, a young man came tearing down the street, pushing passer by's to the side as he ran frantically. He dissapeared around the corner and was soon followed by a small group of theives. Agrias folded her list and tucked it into her belt, nodding to Ramza in a suggestion that they follow. Despite her being a fugitive, she was still unable to let trouble be and go on her way.

They followed the theives until they entered an alleyway. The boy was pressed up against the wall at the back, swearing and fiddling with a small, metal cylindar in his hands. The thief leader grabbed him by the scruff of his tattered clothing and sneered in his face.

"Hmph. Looks like we've finally caught up to you. Now hand it over!"

"Hand over what?" the boy's voice was eerily collected for the siuation he was in, "I don't know what you're talking about."

The theif threw him down and kicked him in the side, "Don't lie to me, you little miner boy. We know who you are Mustadio!"

The boy pulled himself to his feet streniously and grinned, "I don't even have it on me, idiot. I'll never tell you where it is, and if you kill me, you'll never find it so you might as well just tell that bastard Rudvich to give up and go screw himself!"

The theif leader hissed and the rest began to close in. It was at this moment that Agrias chose to step in, Ramza dutifully behind her.

"What's going on here." she asked casually. The theives turned and looked upon her with fear. They recognized the trim blue and white armor she donned, the unmistakable crest of the white lion.

"Hokuten..." one of them gasped, "It's not worth it! We'll get him later, scramble!" The gang took no time in clearing out, jumping the fences and rooftops. The mysterious boy sighed in relief and let his legs give out, collapsing against the cold brick of the alley's wall.

As they approached him, Ramza realized what horrible shape this boy was really in. His clothes were black with dirt, grime and what looked like soot and all frayed around the edges. In the places where his shirts and pants were ripped, bloody skin showed through the cracks and Ramza couldn't tell if his hair was dirty or actually the color baked pumpernickle bread.

Agrias knelt at his side and removed one of her gloves, laying her bare hand over his forehead, "You're very warm." she said, "Your ill and injured. We're going to take you back to the Inn with us, okay?"

The boy nodded weakly, eyes closed, "Yeah, and, um, thanks. They probably would have killed me... and stuff."

"What's your name?"

"Um, I'm Mustadio. Mustadio Bununza. I'm from Goug."

"Goug?" Ramza wondered, "That's a long way from here!"

The boy opened his eyes, the clear and sharp color of a sunny, summer sky, and looked at Ramza with a good-natured grin, "Yeah, tell me about it."


*


The next morning Mustadio joined them at breakfast. Ramza was shocked when he sat down and had hardly recognized him cleaned up. He was a short boy, probably no older then Ramza, with a thin build and skin that looked as if it hadn't seen much sunlight in it's life. His hair was a dull, yellow-blonde and he whistled as he walked towards Ramza and Agrias, a slight skip in his step.

"Man, you would NOT believe how great I feel!" he exclaimed, yawning as he lifted the menu and scanned it over, "It's been months since I've had a proper bath. I mean, it was necessary and everything and of course people who travel like that don't bathe often anyways, but it was just getting to that point where it stops being courageous and becomes obscene. I couldn't even stand to be around myself, I smelt so bad. And on top of that..."

At that point Ramza's brain stopped processing. He blinked a few times and watched Mustadio's mouth without actually understanding the words. In all his life Ramza had never met anyone who talked so much, and with such enthusiasim! He glanced over at Agrais who seemed to be having similar thoughts. She looked back and shrugged, so both let him talk.

They learned that he was the son of a poor inventor. They lived in Goug, a small town in South-Western Lionel, and were mechanical geniuses of sorts. Mustadio's contract in the mines had nearly been up when he had to go on the run and he had been dodging around the country since December.

"That's... five months!" Ramza gasped, doing the math in his head, "How did you survive for five months!"

"If I knew that," Mustadio sighed, "I'd write a book about it. I just got by I suppose, kind of funny since I've never been out of Goug before and it was the dead of Winter when they came after me..."

"Who is it?" Agrias cut the youth off before he could launch into another one of his tirads.

"Who is it what?"

"Who's after you?"

"Oh, the Bart Company!" Mustadio answered like it was common knowledge.

"The Importer?" Agrias wonder incredelously.

Mustadio's tone darkened. He lowered his voice and tipped his menu downwards, "Oh, they do MUCH more than importing. Not many people know it, but they're a criminal syndicate into everything from smuggling to slavery." he snorted and raised his menu again, "What do you think the mines are all about?"

"Why are they after you?" Agrias pressed.

"You know why they call us mechanics?" Mustadio asked offhandedly.

Agrias raised an eyebrow, obviously confused over what relevence this had to her inquiry, "Something about a lost civilization being hidden beneath Goug. When St. Ajora was alive there were airships in the sky and robots in the street. But the technology was lost due to social decline and now no one knows whether it really existed. Everyone had heard that."

"It did exist." Mustadio stated it like a fact, his voice holding no intonation of the fantastical, "I've seen the proof yself- airship parts and old mmachines are buried under Goug. We work in the mines in order to restore these lost legacies."

Ramza's eyes lit up, "That wierd thing," he began, "That wierd weapon you were trying to use on the theives. Is that one of the machines?"

Mustadio let the menu fold itself back on the table this time, and pulled out the weapon. He laid it on the table and allowed Ramza to examin it, "It's called a 'gun'." he explained, running his fingers down the smooth metal of it's stubby hilt and along the tunnled nose, "It works by propelling a metal 'bullet' using explosive powder can be used from greater distances than a bow. This one's just primitive, I've heard ledgends of guns that even shoot magic."

Ramza reached out a picked up the gun, shivering at how cold and polished the metal was. It was impressive and exotic, but he could feel the weapon's monstorous power, just barely repressed. He put it back on the table quickly, gaining new admiration for Mustadio. Ramza could never use such a weapon as the 'gun', it frightened him.

"We've gotten off topic." Agrias said irritably, "You were going to tell us why the Bart Company is after you."

"You said you were going to see the Cardinal, right!" Mustadio's bright eyes caught Agrias's gaze suddenly, "He's a war hero the people of Lionel. My father too, I know he'd grant your wish and then the Princess would be safe!"

Agrias was impatient, "Yes, and?"

"And, um, take me with you!" Mustadio grabbed Agrias's hand and fixed her with a pelading look, "I must meet with the Cardinal!"

Agrias pulled her hand away, insulted, "Why would you need to see the Cardinal Draclau?"

"To save my father, of course! The Bart Company kidnapped him to make me speak and the Cardinal's the only one who could possibly rescue him! But he would never meet with a dirty mechanic from Goug, so I'd need to come with you!"

"You still haven't told us why the Bart Comapny is after you in the first place." Agrias's temper was slowly rising and Ramza could do nothing but remove himself from the conversation and watch quietly. He liked Mustadio despite the boy's exhausting nature, but could understand Agrias's reservations.

"I... I can't tell you why they're after me."

Agrias shook her hea, "Then we can't take you."

Mustadio's eyes went all wide and glassy, "What!? You can trust me, I promise! I have to see the Cardinal!"

And suddenly, Ovelia was there. She must have come downstairs sometime earlier in the conversation and simply listened, because when she sat down she said: "Mustadio can come with us, Agrias."

Mustadio leapt up form his seat and grabbed Ovelia's hands this time, his eyes sparkling like two barely contained wildfires, "Really!? Thank you, Ovelia, thank you!"

Agrias didn't quite balk, but she rebuked Mustadio sharply, "Remember, you're in the presence of a Princess."

Mustadio coughed, released Ovelia's hands then dropped to his knees submissively, "Please forgive me my imprudence, highness."

Ovelia giggled behind her slender hand, "Oh, it's quite alright Mustadio. Agrias would do well to remember that we're undercover. All this bowing is probably a tad conspicuous."

Mustadio slowly rose and got back into his seat, grinning madly. Agrias grumbled a bit, then buried herself deep in her own menu, but Ramza could tell she was glad to have Mustadio with them. It would be refreshing to have a light heart on the journey. Ramza himself was just looking forwards to having a friend again.










IV.

'The divine will of the church is all
For it is the will of St. Ajora.
Love Ajora first, then the church
Then your family, then your neighbour
Then your enemy... and finally,
You may love yourself...'
- The Scriptures of Glabados










They crossed the border of Lionel less than a week later without hassel. The land grew hilly and dry, rocks jutting out from the ground here and there, seeingly without pattern. Of course that couldn't be true, because as Ramza's father always used to say, nature always had pattern and purpose, just mere mortals were often too dim to recognize it. Those were the sorts of knowledgable gems Alma had picked up from her father much in the same way Zalbag inherited his battle prowress and Dycedarg his sharp, political mind.

'But what did I get?' Ramza didn't mean to feel so sorry for himself, but there was something about the melanchony of the pink and orange sunset weaving itself among the clouds that caused his mood to plummet. He pressed his palms into the grass and tipped his face back to watch the red sun sinking into the hills. Ovelia sat not far from him, skirts around her in the pattern of a flower. Instead of staring at the sky, she studied the dull-green grass below her, carelessly picking at stray blades. Ramza wondered if it had something to do with personality and upbringing that one looks either at the sky or the ground. Teta always looked downwards, especially when spoke to. She hardly raised her head to the clouds unless someone told her to look up or it was snowing.

"Lionel castle is just over this last hill. Your journey is nearly over, Princess." Agrais was leaning casually against a thick-trunked tree, sharpening her sword's edge with a large, granite stone. The grinding noise was sharp and soft, blending quietly with the breeze.

Ovelia raised her eyes, but not her head, and allowed her gaze to veer only as far as the horizen, " I wonder if Cardinal Draclau would really help us?"

"He's very loyal to the church, Princess." Agrias assured, "And right now he's neutral in the dispute between Larg and Goltana. I'm sure he wouldn't defeat justice by handing you over to either of them."

"I hope so..."

"Besides," Agrais ceased sharpening her sword and dropped the stone. It rolled a few feet downhill then stopped, grounded in a steep rut, "He's a respected figure within the church. I'm sure they'll take you back if he's asks them to."

Ovelia nodded and lowered her eyes again, "I wish a weren't a princess." her voice was bitter and as close to harsh as such a gentle person could ever hope to manage.

Agrias looked up from her sword, where she had been running her thumb along the newly sharpened edge and widened her blue eyes, "Ovelia!"

"I was always surrounded by convent walls. I'd only ever seen the sky through their windows." her voice shook and she sounded faintly as if she were crying, "Even after hearing about the deceased King's adoption, I stayed there for a long time... I... I'm not complaining, just... People are dying because I'm Princess. It's all so painful..."

Agrias bridged the gap between her and Ovelia and placed a single, strong hand on the Princesses shoulder. She spoke, usually cold voice warm and comforting, "Please, Ovelia, it's not your fault. It's those who are trying to take advantage of you that are to blame."

Ovelia nodded and sniffled. She brought a delicate hand to her face and wiped her eyes slowly, "I met a girl at Orbonne. She said she'd also spent most of her life in a Monastery. She used to laugh at how similar our lives were. But she wasn't a Princess... isn't it funny?"

"She was the Beoulve girl, Miss Alma, was she not?"

Ramza started at that, and turned his head sharply to stare at the Knight and Princess. He'd never expected that Ovelia had known his sister, though now he realized that it was probably inavoidable since they attended the same classes.

"She was my only friend. All the other girls just wanted to be with me because they'd heard the King adopted me." Ovelia laughed, a sad giggle lined with tears, "I wonder if we're really doing the right thing. Maybe the Cardinal will just end up using me like everyone else."

Agrias didn't have an answer. She drew her hand away and crossed her arms, a darkness passing over her face.

"Hey! Captain Agrias!" all three spun their gazes around to see Mustadio running over the rise towards them, waving his thin arms happily. He stopped between Ramza and Ovelia, bracing himself on his knees as he caught his breath, then jumping to attention and giving Agrias a joking salute, "No one's following us as far as I can see. No sign of either the Hokuten or Rudvich's men. With only a day and a half to the castle, I'd say we're off scott free!"

Agrias nodded gravely, "Good work, Mustadio. I'll scout ahead then we'll get some sleep. Expect me back in an hour or so." she gave Ovelia one last look before leaving.

Mustadio fell back into the grass, letting out a long breath as he sprawled out and closed his eyes, exhausted.

"I don't think she likes me much. She keeps sending me out on these scouting missions like a slave!"

Ramza stifled a laugh and Ovelia glance at Mustadio wryly, a thin smile working up her rosebud lips, "Oh Mustadio. Agrias likes you plenty. It's just her way. People have to prove themselves to her."

Mustadio groaned and opened his eyes narrowly, "Well, there's not going to be much left of me to prove anything if things keep going the way they are. I appreciate ehat you're trying to say Princess, but I still think she's trying to kill me." after that, Mustadio closed his eyes again and fell asleep.

Ramza was thinking about his sister when he noticed Ovelia digging in the deep pockets of Delita's travelling cloak. He watched her as she brought out a slender instrument and pressed it to her lips. She blew, but the only sound that came out was a strangled squeak. She drew it away from her mouth quickly and glanced at Ramza, blushing. "Sorry. I've never played one before."

"That's okay. Here, can I see?" Ovelia handed him the pipe over Mustadio's slightly snoring body and he clasped it in his hand tightly, examining it before he brought it to his mouth and blew gently, his fingers moving clumsily as he had forgotten. He played a sort tune and when he finished, Ovelia was smiling brightly at him, the only thing of her tear remaining being the pink circles around her brown eyes.

She clapped quietly, "That was excellent, Ramza."

Ramza nodded humbly and handed her back the pipe, "Thank you. My father taught me how to play, but I never was as good as..." he stopped himself short, but Ovelia finished for him.

"... Delita. His name was Delita, wasn't it?" Ovelia stared at the pipe absently, "So yuo were the old friend... how do you know him?"

Ramza nearly said that Delita had been the stable boy at Beoulve manor, but remembered that no one knew who he was. Instead, he shrugged, "We were close as children. I don't really remember how we met. It was a long time ago."

Ovelia nodded, "It's strange, your name sounded very familiar to me. I think Alma's brother..." Ramza tensed, "His name was something like yours... Ransa or Ranma... well, it was very close."

Ramza sighed discreetly, "I wouldn't know. I don't know anything about the Beoulves."

Ovelia nodded, "I understand I just... I just want to know if Alma is safe..."

Ramza glowered, having been wanting to know the same thing for months. Last he had heard, she'd left the Monastery to go stay with Zalbag, wherever he was, "I'm sure she's fine." he whispered, more to convince himself then Ovelia, "She's got famous brothers, afterall. They'll take care of her." involuntarily, he shuddered like he always did when remembering the way Teta's lifeless body plummmeted from the bridge at Fort Zeakden.

"Play another song." Ovelia passed the reed flute back to Ramza, "Something... uplifting."

Ramza scoured his memory for what had been Alma's favorite. The mysteriously named suite 'Rydhia'. It was a more complicated tune, but one Ramza had played many times. His fingers warmed and found their places easily as memory flooded him over and suddenly, the sky didn't seem so melanchony anymore.


*


Gafgharion tapped his fingers impatiently across the polished wood table in the Beoulve manor. Such upper-class dwelling often made him testy as he didn't like the impeccableness of the wall hangings and the shimmer of the treated wood-surfaces. It all seemed very unnatural.

Dycedarg's cold eyes fixed themselves on the mercenary begrudgingly, "I've read the reports. I'm dissapointed, Gafgharion. I was told you were the best."

"Oh, I am the best." Gafgharion stopped his fingers moving and gripped the table, "But I was outnumbered. Usually, I could handle such a situation, but I was not aware your troops had been ordered to withdraw."

"Well, 'proffesionals' should be prepared to deal with such setbacks."

Gafgharion swung his legs up and rested his feet on the sickeningly clean table, folding his arms behind his head and leaning back. Dycedarg deepened his glare, but the mercenary ignored him, "So what do you want me to do about it now?"

"Do anything you have to! Capture Ovelia and kill Agrias and the others!"

Gafgharion peered over his muddy boots curiously, "What about Ramza?"

Dycedarg pushed his chair away fro the table with a loud creak and paced towards the cabinet near the window. He uncorked a tall bottle of brandy and poured it into a fragile-lloking glass, throwing it back hard, "He's a disgrace to the Beoulve name. I only left him alone because I thought he'd learn how harsh the real world is. I never thought he was that dense."

Gafgharion shrugged and leaned back again, "Did his strong sense of justice come from his father?" he wondered airily.

The question had the desired effect. Dycedarg slammed his glass down on the cabinet surface angrily, "My father spoiled the brat!" he fumed, "If he obeys orders, fine. If he resists, you'll have no choice but to kill him."

"It's hard to believe even you'd say that about your own brother. Sickening." Gafgharion snorted, but changed the subject, "So what about Cardinal? With the church supporting him, not even the Prince can do anything easily."

Dycedarg calmed a bit, and poured himself another drink, "I've already prepared for that." he said in between sips, "There's no need to worry."

"So that's it eh?" Dycedarg didn't answer, "You know, the more I hear, Dycedarg Beoulve, the less and less I like you."

Dycedarg turned and smiled at the mercenary nastily, "If that's how you feel, you'd best hold your tounge. Don't forget how easily your head can be cut off."

Gafgharion set his feet on the floor hastily and held up his hands in a diplomatic manner, "Hey, hey! Stop that! I'm your loyal servant." he winked, "And remember, I'm not stubborn like your brothers."

"Then don't make any more mistakes."

"Right." Gafgharion cleared his throat, "Speaking of which, who exactly was it you hired to kidnap the Princess?"

Dycedarg froze, "What?"

"When we were chasing her in Dorter there was this kid with her. I was just curious if he was really with Goltana or you hired him. Seemed to know you pretty well, but denied being a part of either faction."

Dycedarg's eyes were wide with shock and confusion, perhaps a bit of paranoia, "What did he look like. Describe him to me!"

Gfagharion shrugged, "I don't know... he was a tall and skinny kid. Had a mean look about him and was good in a fight for being so young. Looked almost Murondic and had these big, ugly burn scars everywheres. Weirdest thing is that your brother seemed to know him."

Dycedarg paled white and dropped his glass. It shattered into tiny, crystalline shards at his feet but he staggared towards the table instead, bracing himself against it as he swayed, "No." he whispered, "It's impossible. Delita died at Fort Zeakden."

"Well, higness, if I knew this news would cause you so much stress I would've with held it."

"No, no." Dycedarg shook his head vehemently, mumbling beneath his breath "It's good... I... something will have to be done about this..."

Gafgharion stood abruptly, "Okay. In which case, this being none of my business, I shall now take my leave." Dycedarg waved him off impatiently, anxious to be alone with his thoughts...

*

Cardinal Draclau was a large and contemplative man who always sat with his fingers intwined and rested across his wide knees. His gaze was penetrating, and whenever he spoke in that calm, deep voice a smacking noise followed his words, sounding much like the man was licking something off the roof of his mouth.

"I understand you situation, Captain Oakes." he soothed, "And I assure you that I will do everything in my power to help expose Larg's plot and keep the Princess safe from harm."

"Do you really think the High Priest Funeral will help us?" Agrias wondered warily, "After all, the Murond church has never exactly been known for it's willingness to help strangers."

Draclau smiled sweetly, "Do not worry, Captain Oakes. I'm with you, I'm sure we'll figure something out... besides, we muct act strong to make the Princess feel at ease." he groaned as he stood, placing a supporting hand in the small of his back, and appraoched the small gathering in his office, "You must make yourself at home in this old castle. Anything you need, do not hesitate to ask. Now, Young Mechanic..."

Mustadio's head shot up form where he had been staring at the ground dejectedly, toeing at the buildup of dust o\in one of the corners.

"The good lady Captain Oakes has also told me of your dilemma. Mustadio was your name, was it not?"

Mustadio nodded hastily, "Yes, yes. Mustadio Bununza."

"I was not aware that the Bart Company had such... dealings with the underworld. I have already sent troops to Goug to dissolve the company."

Mustadio's sky blue eyes lit up like firecrackers and he very nearly leapt for joy, "Thank you! Thank you! I don't know how to repay you for this, Cardinal! I'm sure once he's safe, my father will be gratful, but we don't have much in ways of money so..."

Draclau raised a meditating hand and wore a sutiably charmed expression, "Now, now Mustadio. I do not do these things because I desire payment, I do them because it is the divine will of Ajora that one always help his neighbour in times of need. All I ask of you is to tell me why the Bart Company was after you."

Mustadio's glee faded and he withdrew once again into his corner, "I... um, I can't tell you that..."

Draclau walked back to his desk and sat down again, nodding somberly, "That's alright... I think I might understand. Does it have something to do with this?" Draclau's hand reached into one of his many drawers and he produced a fist-size red stone. He placed it on the table and nudged it gently towards his audience. Mustadio gasped.

"What is this?" Agrias raised an eyebrow at the Cardinal, who simply smiled.

"Have you ever heard the 'Ledgend of the Zodiac Braves'?" he replied.

"You mean that old Fairy Tale children always hear in church?" Agrais scoffed, "What of it?"

Draclau's expression darkened, "Here now. Are you saying the church lied?"

Agrias shook her head nervously and did a light bow, "Oh no, no. I didn't mean that at all!"

Ramza had been sitting on a step near the entrance of the room only half listening to the exchange until that point. He polished his sword aimlessly, but at the mentioned of this 'Fairy Tale', his curiosity perked. He rose slowly and came to stand beside Mustadio against a far wall.

"Long ago when the land was much different, twelve Holy Warriors fought against the evil Lucavi, hideous demons who ruled the world.After a desperate battle, they sent all the Lucavi to Hades, the Underworld, and the land was peaceful again." Ovelia's voice droned softly almost like she was reading directly from a textbook, "They each had stones with the Zodiac Signs on them and these stones gave them power, so they were called the Zodiac Braves. Since then, whenever the land is in trouble, the twelve Holy Warriors of the Zodiac will come again to save us, just like in old times."

"You're wuite learned Princess." Draclau said, clearly impressed, "Though I would expect no less from a student of Father Simon."

Ovelia blushed modestly, "Yes. Mr. Simon taught me a lot of stories during my time at Orbonne. He also said the St. Ajora and the Braves saved Ivalice from chaos once too, and that's why the Murond King wanted him hanged. But I... ah, I always thought they were just stories... not quite true, but metaphors for living."

Draclau reached for the stone that lay on the desk and ran his fingers over it thoughtfully, "Yes, we call these stones the Holy Stones because of the great deeds one can fufill with their power. They say it's divine power will supress Lucavi." he peered through the stone much in the same manner that Mustadio had when his father had first shown him Tauras, "I feel a strange power... but it looks just like an ordinary stone to me..."

Ramza noticed that Mustadio was gaping at the Cardinal in horror, his gloved hands wringing themselves incessantly and his eyes unblinking. He leaned slightly towards the blonde mechanic and whispered, "What's wrong? You're very pale."

Draclau's vindictive gaze found Mustadio and he place the stone on the desk once more, "You saw the same thing udnerground Goug, didn't you? In the mines."

Mustadio gulped and breathed deeply a few times before answering, "There are many broken machine parts hidden under the city. Most times, you can't get them to work but when the stone gets near them, they start to howl."

"Bart's Company is after the stone, aren't they?" Draclau persisted, "You have it. That's why they're after you."

"I don't know what power the stone has..." Mustadio's voice was shaky, but defensive, "It may be good and it may be evil, but I don't care. All I know it that Rudvich wants to tuse it's power to make weapons. My father told me to keep the stone from it at all costs, even if it meant my life or his... that's why they abducted him, because they want me to tell them where the stone is." at this point, his speech became tinted slightly with viciousness, "But I'll never tell! Even if they have to kill me and pry the information from my corpse, no one will ever find it." he narrowed his eyes at the Cardinal, "I mean no disrespect sir, but not even you."

Draclau's mood lightened instantly. He laughed and spread his arms, "Don't worry Mustadio! I am a man of the church, what need have I for limitless power? I was just curious."

Mustadio eased a little, but the color hadn't yet flowed back into his face.

"I'll go to Goug with you." Ramza turned to Mustadio and nodded resolutely, "The fighting may not be finished when you arrive. Besides, I have nowhere to go anyways..."

Mustadio tipped his head like he was going to object, then shrugged, "Sure. I really appreciate it, Ramza. I hope you know, but please, when you meet my father don't mind him. He's a bit of a flake."

Agrais took Ramza's hand and shook it firmly, "We made it this far thanks to you, Ramza."

Ovelia nodded, "Yes, thank you. I just wish I could have been more help."

Ramza turned bright red and scratched his head with his free hand, "Oh no, you could have done it without me."

The Cardinal laughed heartily at this and proclaimed that Ramza was a fine young man before ushering the entire group off the the kitchen for some supper before Mustadio and Ramza went on their way.










V.
' 'Truth' is a subjective word, perhaps the most so in our language. It's so easy to twist the truth into the half-truth, which is worse than a lie because one can never directly proclaim it to be untrue. The problem is that in wartime, whatever your superiors tells you 'The Truth' is, that's what you are forced to believe and live by, therefore everyone fights for their own personal 'Truth' and in the end, no one can tell where the lies begin...'
- The Durai Reports, Chapter I










Ramza's first impression of Mustadio's home town was a coughing fit. He had never really thought about it before, how a city could be so self contained that the moment he stepped through the main gates of Goug it seemed he had been transported to another world entirely. The air fogged thick and black and the heavy throng of people, carts and animals increased the background noise a considerable amount of decibles. An ox-driven carriage flew past them, causing clouds of soot-sprinkled dust in the air and Ramza's lungs just couldn't take it anymore.

He doubled over, one hand on his stomach and the other over his mouth as he convulsed. People stared at him disdainfully and Mustadio grinned with an embrassed smile as he waved them off, patiently leading Ramza out of the crowded street by his shuddering shoulders. When his fit passed, he blinked and attempted to decipher his surroundings through the hazy smog.

"I don't mean to be rude, Mustadio..." he began tenatively, jogging a few steps to catch up with the swiftly moving mechanic, "But did you really grow up here? I mean..."

Mustadio shot Ramza a winning sile over a narrow shoulder, "It takes getting used to I know. Anyways, you think the streets are bad, wait until you see the mines!"

"I'll pass, thank you." Ramza rolled his eyes and scanned the foreign surroundings in awe. The buildings were all stone and glass except for the occasional wooden shack leaning haphazardly against a larger structure. The signs above the shops glew in gray gloom and almost all of the people had dark hair and glimmering-black eyes. His head was turned to his left observing a particularily interesting establishment with a curious picture of a dancing woman painted outside of it when Mustadio stopped abruptly in front of him. Ramza slammed into his friend's back and scrambled backwards, only to be jostled by strangers.

Mustadio saved Ramza from getting swallowed in the crowd by grabbing his wrist sharply and dragging him round a corner onto a less crowded walkway. His expression was grim.

"What's wrong?" Ramza whispered, sensing the brevity of the situation.

"Something's wrong..." Mustadio muttered back, tugging at Ramza's arm with an increasing urgency.

"You think Bart Company escaped?"

Mustadio bit his pale bottom lip and stopped, releasing Ramza's arm. He looked around catiously, "I don't know. I haven't seen any of Rudvich's agents, but it doesn't seem like there's been a fight. Something is very, definitely wrong here..." he paused, then gestured towards the brightly decorated hovel across the road from them, "Hey, Ramza... I need to check something out, but it's somewhere a non-Gougian can go, if you know what I mean. Can I trust you to meet me in the alley behind this bar in exactly three hours?"

Ramza furrowed his brow, "Of course you can. I'm not a child."

Mustadio cracked a strained grin, "I know Ramza. Sorry, I'm just a bit... tense right now."

"I understand."

"Okay. Don't forget, three hours!" Mustadio held up three fingers before melting into the crowd. Ramza sighed and looked the bar over warily. It didn't seem like the kind of place one would want to spend a respectable evening in, but if Mustadio was recommending it, he should trust the boy's word. Besides, it was better than getting lost.

He attempted to make his entrance inconspicuous and took a secluded seat in the front corner of the bar. When the barmaid asked him for his order, he requested the least flashy beverage they had- milk- and waited in silence. He drank his milk contemplatively, studying the broken mechanical clock on the far wall with almost inhuman concentration. Which is why he jumped at the mere mention of his name.

"Well, well, well... if it isn't little Ramza Beoulve."

Ramza nearly fell out of his chair, his milk glass spilling it's contents out over his boots and shin-gaurds. He was so busy wiping at the drink furiously with his pocket hankerchief that he didn't notice the owner of the voice sit down opposite of him. When he rose, nose wrinkled up from the milk's strong, sour smell, he found himself staring into a pair of wry, green eyes and an arched eyebrow. He jumped again.

"Don't use that name!" He whispered harshly, "And who are you!?"

The girl looked taken aback. She crossed her arms over her chest, both lost in the billowing, multi-colored and patched cloak of a Wizard. Her pointed hat sat before her on the table, it's point crumpled slightly at the tip.

"I'm Stepfanaie Arlock."

Ramza stared blankly. The girl huffed and brushed an unbelieviably long strand of brown hair over her shoulder, "From Gariland!" she stressed.

Ramza remembered faintly, a long haired, quick tempered Chemist with Murondic features. This girl looked an aful lot like the girl who had treated his wounds during their exam... hadn't she wanted to be a... Wizard?

"I remember you." he said finally, feeling a bit dim, "You were always in my attack squadron."

Stefanaie nodded an affirmative and began tending to her hat, smoothing out the wrinkles and tweaking the point so that it stood up impeccably, "So what do I call you then?"

"What do you mean?"

The Wizard sighed exasperatedly, crushing her hat's point down to the table. She narrowed her strange colored eyes at Ramza, "Well, you don't want to go by Ramza Beoulve. What should I call you? And may I ask why you're in Goug under an alias? Pretty tricky business for a noble if I may say so... and while you're at it, where's Hyral? Last I checked you two were practically joined at the hip."

Ramza felt buried under the barrage of questions, and it took him a moment to sort them all out in his mind, "Um... I go by Ramza Ruglia now. I'm not really with the Beoulve family anymore so I had to take up a job as a mercenary to get money. You know how it is."

The girl gave out a short laugh, "You'll really need a better fake name than that to get by, you know. Ramza's not exactly a popular name and God, do you look like a Beoulve!"

Ramza shrugged, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks, "Well, it's gotten me by well enough up until now... and who are you to judge anyways?"

Stefanaie grinned enigmatically, "Just think of it as a point of advice from one Gariland graduate to another... by the way, you didn't answer my third question. Where's Hyral? In our last month at school he recommended a book to me and I've been wanting to write a letter to him or something... it was very good, you see."

Ramza froze still at the question. He had been about to answer with a saddened expression and heavy heart that Delita had died over a year ago, but he remembered.... Delita was alive, just... "I... don't know where Delita is right now. Last year, just after we graduated, his sister died during a battle and then... well... things got a little hectic and I don't really hear from him much."

Stefanaie opened her mouth to reply, but obviously lost her words. She pulled her hat down over her head firmly, hiding her tart face beneath it's impressive shadow, "That's unfortunate. Death and the breaking of unbreakable friendships... I'm sorry Ramza, I really am..."

"Yeah... but it's all in the past now..." Ramza ran his finger slowly around the cloudy rim of his once milk-filled glass, "What brings you to Goug?"

Stefanaie pushed the brim of her hat up so that only her bright eyes were visible beneath the mess, "Well, after graduation the rest of our squad banded together. You know, Remington, Aston and Elitannia? We've been travelling and doing odd jobs since. Made a pretty good living."

Ramza's eyes lit up, "Remington? You mean Remington Orvius? He's here?"

"Erm." Stefanaie shrugged apologetically, "Fraid' not. I'm here on my own actually. We split up three days ago for a proposition, but we're meeting up back in Warjiis in about a week."

"Ah." Ramza lowered his eyes, "How's Rem doing?"

"Same old, same old. You know how jerks like him amble through life." she pulled the brim of her hat down again, "He's a Knight now. But Elitannia dumped him soon as she started studying Summoning. That's some magic, needs lots of concentration. No time for a boyfriend, you know."

Ramza didn't know, in fact, having never really stopped to pay much attention to the ladies aside form occasionally noting one's good looks. He did feel a pang of inadequecy hearing of Remington's new rank. Ramza himself was still barely a squire.

"You still haven't told me why you're here."

Ramza's mind popped back into reality and he realized that, indeed, he had not given the girl a halfways straight answer. He glance at the clock again, only to find that the minute hand had not moved since Stefanaie had come to sit down, "I just finished a job of sorts. I'm here to help a friend."

"Oh." Stefanaie said like it was meaningful. Then she leaned forwards and placed a hand aside her mouth, "This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that whole 'Bart Company' mess?"

Ramza's eyes widened and he met Stefanaie's gaze, "How did you know about that!?"

Stefanaie leaned back in her chair casually, "I know everything." she winked before rising out of her seat and waving cheerfully, "Well Ramza, I suppose I'll see you around!"

"Um, yeah." Ramza waved back and his mind began counting down the seconds until he had to meet Mustadio once again, eyes trained on the forever motionless clock.


*


Exactly two hours, thirty three minutes and four seconds later (or something like that- he had lost count at least sixteen times) Ramza paced the muddy, wheel worn rut behind the bar.

"He's late..." Ramza felt a distinct wetness on his cheek and he looked up just in time to meet a raindrop falling into his eye. He wiped at it furiously, and the clouds ripped open, dumping an impressive downpour over the city of Goug, Ramza wrapped his arms around himself and leaned against a wall, mumbling, "He's really late... I wonder if Mustadio was caught..."

"Are you a friend of the Bununza boy?"

Ramza whipped his head up to see thw owner of the voice, a hefty middle-aged man with a shock of dirty-brown hair, expensive looking robes and an umbrella slung over one shoulder. He smiled, but it was a sickly smile that made Ramza shudder inwardly."Who are you?" Ramza demanded.

Then man's answer was to snap his fingers and shout out over his shoulder. "Bring him!" A sly looking chemist and a burly theif tore into the alley supporting a limp, blonde boy between them. The boy looked up and Ramza gasped, it was Mustadio, but his face was bruised and broken in places, blood leaking from his nose and left cheek. Both his eyes were black around the edges and he could barely hold them open.

He coughed, "S-sorry Ramza."

Ramza drew his sword and stepped forwards, "Mustadio! Are you okay!?"

"Don't come any closer." The older man drew a large weapon from his belt buckle and Ramza recognized it to be a 'gun', much like the one Mustadio carried. Ramza backed off, but did not ease his grip on his sword. Hopefully, he didn't look as battle-green as he felt.

"So you must be Bart Rudvich." he growled attempting to sound brave. His mind twisted itself inside out trying to figure a way out of the situation, "Let Mustadio go and I'll consider sparing your life!" no, that was all wrong.

Rudvich chuckled thickly, "Brave words when you're outnumbered three to one. Now, be a nice little boy and give us the Holy Stone. We know Mustadio hid it here."

"I don't know what your talking about. I don't know anything about a 'Holy Stone'." Ramza's courage was beginning to shrivel away and his sword shook in his hands.

"Of course you know where it is." Rudvich's gun made a clicking noise and he raised the muzzle higher, turning to Mustadio, "Come now, Mustadio. I'm a fair man. Tell me where the Holy Stone is and I promise not to embed a bullet in your friend here's heart."

Mustadio looked up frightened, his puffy-blue eyes dancing nervously. He pulled away from his captors weakly and fell at Rudvich's feet.

"Fine, I'll tell you where it is."

"Mustadio! No!" Ramza lept forwards, but his friend shot him an angry look that plainly said: 'Don't mess things up Ramza. I know what I'm doing.'

"In father's workshop. It will be in the chest under the desk."

Rudvich lowered the gun and smiled evilly, "Excellent. The Cardinal will be pleased." He kicked Mustadio violently under the chin, sending the mechanic flying into the wall. Mustadio slumped like a broken doll and Ramza was fearful for a moment that the boy might be dead. Then his eyes popped open and he turned his mischivious glance towards Ramza, grinning beneath his wounds.

"I'll trust you boys to clean up here." Bart dissapeared around the corner of the alley and before Ramza could blink, the theif was on him He barely had enough time to raise his sword and catch the double knives en route to his neck. The rain made for hard fighting and it didn't help much that the theif was large and well-musceled. Ramza's heels dug into the wet-mud, causing him to slide back under his opponent's superior force. He slipped out from beneath it and spun, but the theif was fast as well. Ramza parried and feinted for his life, but didn't find a window of opportunity until his foe made an error, slipping on the mud and turning his back to Ramza ungaurded for just a second. Ramza slashed with his sword across the theif's back. It was only a light wound, but enough to make the larger man cry out in pain and drop his weapons.

"Stop right there!" Ramza had forgotten about the chemist, which turned out to be a mistake since the sly and skinny man now had Mustadio buckled beneath his forearm and was pressing a knife to the mechanic's neck, "Don't hurt him anymore and your friend lives."

Ramza spat, "You'll kill us anyways, those were your orders."

The chemist pressed the knife harder and a single drop of blood leaked out over it's glinted blade, immedietly washed away by the rain. And then, there was a hole in the chemist's head. His eyes clouded over with death instantly and he fell backwards, leaving his blood splattered over Mustadio's skin and clothing. The theif yelped loudly and scrambled over the wall and out of the alley for his life.

Mustadio and Ramza stared at each other wide eyed before turning their attention to out of the alley to where the shot of death had been fired. There, illuminated by the glow of the street and hat bent beneath the pressure of the rainstorm, stood a young wizardess, smoking gun still held in the direction of the dead chemist. She lowered the gun carefully and pulled off her hat.

"Stefanaie!?" Ramza exclaimed.

The long-haired girl shrugged and tucked the gun into one of her many pockets, "I'm a trained chemist. Besides, I grew up in Goug."


*


Surprisingly, Besrodio was in much better shape than his son, for someone who had been stuffed in a drain gutter for five months. He blinked a bit, as if he didn't recognize his surroundings, then his eyes, the same sky-blue as his son's, lit up with joy.

"Mustadio!" he exclaimed, happily wrapping his strong arms around his child. Ramza and Stefanaie helped the two Goug natives into the bar and sat them down at a table near the back. As soon as they were seated comfortably, Besrodio turned on his son angrily.

"I heard them talking! How could you give them the stone!" he hissed, "Don't you know that Rudvich will try to revive the old weapons beneath Goug with it's power! And now that the Cardinal is in on it, there's nothing we can do ot get it back! What were you thinking, boy!"

Mustadio smiled smugly and placed his chin in one palm, aquiring a knowing air. This was quite a feat, considering he was doing it through two black-eyes, a split lip and clothing stained with both blood and dirt, "Heh. Good for them."

Besrodio reeled and glanced at his son questioningly, "Mustadio! This is no laughing matter!"

Mustadio reached deep into the travelling pack that hung off his belt beside his gun and pulled out a dark-yellow crystal. He threw it up in the air casually, allowing it to catch the light of the bar lamps, then shoved it back into the pack, "They forgot to check the most obvious place. I made a fake, y'know, just in case something like this happened."

Besrodio buried his face in his hands making an exhausted noise, "My God, boy. You make me cry sometimes..."

"So... you mean they DON'T have the real stone?" Ramza was impressed with Mustadio's forsight. To tell the truth, he never would have figured the boy as the type to give something that much thought.

"Of course not!" Mustadio laughed merrily, "They must be halfways to Lionel castle by now and going absolutely crazy!"

"I still can't believe the Cardinal was in on this." Stefanaie muttered, injecting herself into the conversation, "He's a man of the chruch afterall..."

"Before we get into any further discussion." Besrodio cut her off, "I do believe that introductions are in order."

Mustadio smiled guilty, "Sorry Dad, of course. Um, this is Ramza..." Besrodio reached out and shook Ramza's ahnd firmly, "He saved my life up in Goland. Him and this Knight, a lady named Agrias Oakes. And this is Stefanaie Arlock." Stefananie forwent the handshake but she nodded in Besrodio's direction and removed her hat to show her face, "I just became aquainted with her back in the alley tonight. She also saved my life."

Besrodio smiled at his son wryly, "Wow, you do collect life-debts like most men collect bottle caps. Why did I ever let you leave home?"

Mustadio blushed beneath the layer of mud caked on his face, "Hey! I can usually take care of myself, but it's kind of diffficult for one to do so when they can barely stand!"

"Anyways..." Stefanaie coughed loudly and none to politely, "Back to more important matters, I know it's none of my business, but the Cardinal being in on this whole stone plot... doesn't seem too useful for you guys. The next time someone comes for the stone, it'll be the Lionel army that's after you."

"We'll be out of Lionel tommorow. Then we'll figure out what to do."

"Wait." Ramza slammed his palms on the table, "Agrias and Ovelia! They're in danger!"

Mustadio crinkled his brow in Ramza's direction, "What do you mean? They're safe in the castle... oh shit!"

Ramza sighed, "It all makes sense. If the Cardinal was in on it for the stone as well, what's to keep him from taking Ovelia hostage? We've got to get back to the castle!"

"You'll have to take the back way in, in that case." Stefanaie commented, "The front will be far too gaurded. There's a transport boat leaving for Warjiis by sea tommorow. That's your best bet."

Besrodio nodded thougtfully, "The lady's right. You guys better start getting rested up."

"But wait..." Mustadio scratched his head in deep thought, "I still don't understand. Why would the Cardinal want the stones in the first place? He said it himself, he has no desire for unlimited power."

"The Zodiac Brave Story..." Ramza replied quietly. Everyone turned to stare at him intently as he spoke, "His intentions may not have been evil at first... people are sick of wars and political infighting. Exploiting the ledgend of the Zodiac Braves by using the Holy Stones to create new braves he can bring the entire world under control."

"Unite the provinces again." Stefanaie scoffed, "But the way he's going about it right now we'll be ruled under nothing more than another dictatorsip."

"Most governments turn into dictatorships in the end." Besrodio agreed, "No matter how good the intentions of it's propegator. Power makes men mad."

There was a long observed silence that Mustadio broke, clapping his hands, "Well, then it's decided. Tommorow morning Ramza and I'll take the first transport to Warjiis." he turned to the Wizard, "How about it Stefanaie? You wanna tag along?"

Stefanaie shook her head, "Love to, I really would. But you see, I've got a job to do here. I'm supposed to be teaching some kid here math as part of my Calculator training. Figured I'd learn some math skills myself... sure beats drinking ethers all the time."

"Well, hopefully we'll meet up again in the future." Ramza waved as the Wizardess gathered her cloak about her, ready to excuse herself from the conversation.

She winked, "Oh, I'd bet on it."


*


"So you're using the Princess as bait to get the stone back? Hardly sounds like something a Holy man would do."

"You know, Gaff Gafgharion, you're maddening insubordinace almost doesn't make you worth the gil I pay you." Cardinal Draclau spoke through cleched teeth, barely containing his contempt for his two guests.

"Besides." Rudvich added huskily, "If you hadn't let them escape, things would have been fine."

"Hey!" Gagharion pointed an armor clad finger at the crime lord and glared, "The stone was never part of my job. They hadn't even met that mechanic brat when I left. Don't blame me for your mistakes!"

"I'm not the onle one making mistakes here, Gafgharion!"

"Enough, Ruvich." The Cardinal leaned his forehead on one hand, exasperated, "I'll return Ovelia to Lord Dycedarg as promised, the stone is your only concern. But he does have a point, Gafgharion. Don't you need to get rid of those who know about the kidnapping anyways? The theif who took the stone is almost certainly with Ramza. You can catch them both using the Princess. Two birds with one stone."

"Exactly what I was thinking." Gafgharion's voice was with held and not as certain as it usually was. He look at the Cardinal warily, "But what if..."

"You are being weak." Draclau proclaimed.

Gafgharion shook his head, " 'Careful' is more like it. You've got to be careful if you want to survive on the battlefield."

"I'll make sure you're protected."

"That's not what I was getting at." Gafgharion growled, sighing heavily to close the subject. Rudvich and the Cardinal both stared at him mildly confused.

"If you'd like, we'll prepare an ambush of sorts... we need to put that other woman to use somehow."

Gafgharion's dark eyes flickered, "Do you mean Lady Oakes? I hardly think that's necessary. I'll be fine on my own."

Rudvich snickered into his hand, "Do I sense that you have some sort of affection for this woman, Gaff? How... unbecoming."

Gafgharion almost blushed. Almost, "I have affection for no one, I'm a mercenary. Allies today may be enemies tommorow. Even you, Mr. Rudvich." Gafgharion stressed the respectful title in such a manner that Bart caught the hidden meaning and withdrew from the confrontation, no longer sneering.

"Fine then." Draclau interjected, "I'll leave it up to you."

"Are you serious!" Bart objected, glancing at his leader pleadingly in disbelief.

"Don't let me down Gafgharion."

Gafgharion stretched his arms and yawned as he kicked back from the table and rose energetically from his seat, "No problem. I'll even get the stone back, you'll see. I'm MUCH more reliable than him." The door swung a few times as he exited. When he was gone, Bart glared at the Cadinal incredeously.

"Why him? He's got a bad habit of betraying his former employeers! What's wrong with you!?"

Draclau slowly opened the top drawer of his desk and removed something, clenching it tightly in his left fist. He stared intently at some point on the wall far beyond Rudvich's head. Bart looked over his shoulder and saw nothing, so returned his eyes to the Cardinal.

"What? What's wrong?"

"You've failed me too many times, Rudvich. Now it's time to take some responsibility."

The room was engulfed in a deep, red light that seemed somehow... unholy. Bart's eyes went glassy with terror. He backed into the wall and clawed at it desperately in an attempt to escape, but it was too late. The next day a maid reported that she had heard screaming from Cardinal Draclau's office approximately four minutes after Gaff Gafgharion took his leave, but her duty officer said that she had probably just been imagining things again and the incident was not put on record.










VI.
'While everyone's path is littered with the occasional pothole, mercenaries are often faced with canyons to cross and moutains to climb. Fortunately, they are often clever enough to go around them.'
- Famous Proverb










Ramza was exceedingly glad to finally arrive in Warjiis and get some solid ground under his sea sick feet. He couldn't stumble off the ship fast enough, nearly falling once he hit ground that wasn't moving.

Mustadio followed behind a couple people and couldn't help but laugh. He patted Ramza on the shoulder and shook his head, "Ramza, Ramza, Ramza. You are niave... never been inside a bar, never seen a steam engine and never been on a boat. What are you, a sheltered noble kid?"

Ramza wanted very badly to answer, 'Yes. That's exactly what I am not leave me be so I can elegantly go throw up my last three meals into the sea' but restrained himself. He suggested: "Hey, Mustadio, why don't you go Inn shopping? I think I might need some fresh air to recupperate."

Mustadio raised a speculative eyebrow, "Can I trust you not to let yourself get picked up by some old sailor looking for a little fun? And I don't mean boxoum lady sailors."

Ramza gagged on whatever he was going to say and spun Mustadio to face him, "Can that really happen!?"

Mustadio calmly removed Ramza hands from his shoulders, "I was just kidding, Ramza. My father always used to say stuff like that to me... like that I look too much like my mother so all the old miners would want a piece of me. It's just for fun Ramza, don't take things so seriously."

Ramza caught his breath and composed himself, then thought about it really hard. When Mustadio put it like that, it actually was kind of funny, "Hey, you and your father are really close, aren't you?"

Mustadio's expression became serious and he ran a slender hand through his slick, yellow hair, "Yeah... I really don't know. We don't really... talk... like we used to when mom was alive. It's mostly like we just try to avoid the subject, you know. And with me away for most of the year anyways..." he fiddled with the buttons on his travelling coat and looked at Ramza, "What about your father? Does he know what where you are right now? I get the feeling you've been away from home for a long time."

Ramza's breath caught in his throat and he remembered the dream he had the night before leaving Gariland. That was the day everything had started, "My father died... several years ago." 'Don't worry father, I won't forget.'

Mustadio's eyes flickered and he hung his head, embarassed, "Oh. I'm sorry. I know how it is, never easy to lose a parent."

"It's okay. He was ready to go anyways. And then there was my older brother, he took care of the rest of us."

"You've got siblings?" Mustadio looked up again, this time his gaze curious.

Ramza nodded, "Two older brothers and a younger sister. And... well, before father died he adopted two other children. Their farm burned down and they showed up on our doorstep. But they were different, um..." not commoners, "... they were Murondic."

"Ah." Mustadio said as if he completely understood, "You're from where? Up in Igros I suspect. You don't see many evidence of old Murond up there, do you? I never had any siblings. The whole concept seems strange to me... my parents always thought I was a hand full on my own."

Ramza laughed, glad that the conversation had taken up lighter tones once again, "I can certainly see how that came about!"

"Hey!" Mustadio's voice turned defensive, "I was a really good kid... just loud and a bit over-exuberant, but all kids are like that!"

'I wasn't.' Ramza thought, but he didn't vocalize. It was hard being the youngest boy in a family of warriors and ploiticians. Something about the war being so close to home really quiets a child. Alma was the same way, they only spoke when necessary.

"Annnnnnyyyyyways, I'd better get to finding an Inn our we'll be sleeping out on the streets tonight, and I don't mean to complain, but I don't exactly think my body could handle that in this state, "He gestured towards his face, still split and bruised.

Ramza nodded and found a seat atop a wooden cargo crate. He pulled their luggage up beside him and waved as Mustadio left. Already he could feel his stomach settling back into place and his muddled insides shifting into the proper order. He turned his gaze on the water and for a moment, admired it's dark sapphire crystalline beauty, stretching to a limited infinitey to meet azure skies. Now that he had time to appreciate it from a neutral spot, rather than on top of it, Ramza could admit that the sea had it's own kind of un-ending beauty. It looked so calm and peaceful from afar, until you looked closer and noticed then white tipped waves tossing about helpless ships.

Ramza's father always used to say nature had hidden patterns, but he also used to say that people were foten like nature- what you saw at first glance was often not all there was to see.

Ramza closed his eyes and breathed in the sea breeze deeply. As much as he hadn't enjoyed his short journey by ship between Goug and Warjiis, he had aquired a love for the smell of fresh, sea air. Something about the subtle mingling of salt and wave stirred his heart which, he concluded, was probably why do many poets were anxious to write about the ocean.

Someone sat down beside him, breaking his train of thought. The manner in which this person moved was almost, and Ramza could think of no better way to describe it, familiar. He opened his eyes only to find himself staring at a sharp, dark and wounded face he would have known anywheres.

"Delita!" he gasped, "What are you doing here!?"

"Heard you might be here." The dark haired boy answered simply.

"What? What do you mean by that?" Ramza wondered if Delita was being vauge and sudden on purpose, or if he was just missing the point.

Delita leaned forwards slightly and placed a hevay hand on Ramza's shoulder. The young Beoulve noticed then the dark and anrgy brun marks running up his arms under his shirt sleeves like huge, bloody veins causing his mind to harken up the images of pain, fire and death that were Fort Zeakden in his cloudy memory. He also noticed that Delita's skin was strinkingly pale, more so than he had ever seen it and especially for early summer. His gloves were dark leather, tied up firmly around the sides and with loose cuiffs. He was dressed considerably nicer than the time at the bridge, scant traces of gold trim here and there, but for the most part plainer than even Ramza's scruffy armor.

"Go back to Igros, Ramza, for your own sake," Delita said softly, his voice tinged with something like concern and sounding almost like the boy Ramza had known from childhood, "It's healthier to keep your nose out of certain things... things like princesses and stones."

Ramza's expression soured and he shrugged Delita's hand off, resenting the condescending tone his old friend had taken on. It was much like the way Balbanes would speak to his children when trying to gloss over the losses posted in those dreaded monthly war reports. Sometimes, Ramza swore that Delita had inherited more from his family than he had.

"Why do you care so much? If we rescue the Princess, doesn't that just make your job easier?"

" 'The best ways don't always lead to the best results'." Delita sounded as if he were quoting something, "Rescuing the Princess only sovles one problem. I can save her from all of them." the dark haired boy's voice turned wistful then, and he looked out over the sea much like Ramza had done only minutes earlier. Ramza remembered Ovelia's shy adoration of her captor-turned-rescuer and wondered if maybe, just maybe...

... no that was ridiculous. "Delita... how did you survive?" the words fell unbidden from Ramza's lips before he could stop them. After they were asked, he felt like slamming his head into the nearest blunt surface until he bled.

But Delita showed no emotion. His eyes didn't even flicker red like they used to when faced with unsavory subjects. He answred Ramza's question, "Teta... Teta saved me... I guess she was watching over me."

Ramza swallowed thickly, turning this thought over in his mind, trying to process exactly what Delita was saying when the boy stood up and began to leave. Ramza leapt up after him.

"Wait! Delita! What is it that you're trying to do?"

Delita stopped and raised his face to the horizen. His shoulders rose and fell slowly as if he were sighing, "Larg, Goltana, your brothers... haven't you noticed, Ramza? They're all caught up in the same flow... I'm just going against it, that's all." he looked back at Ramza over his shoulder and smiled bitterly, "I'll see you again, Ramza... if either of us live that long."

"Delita..." but already his figure receeded into the sparse crowd, somehow forbidding that anyone follow. Mustadio randomly appeared from that same direction, coat undone and waving his arms excitedly. He practically tumbled Ramza over, grabbing his arm excitedly.

"Hey! I found us a halfway decent Inn right off the bat! And you would NOT believe who I ran into there! ... hey, Ramza, are you okay?" Mustadio switched his gaze to dissapearing silouhette of Delita, then back to his stunned friend, "Did you know him or something?"

Ramza thought about this for a few moments and decided that this Delita was different from the one he had known. Delita was always serious, not cold; intelligent, not cunning; tempered, not emotionless. His smiles had been rare, true, but they were never lined bitter and pained, they were always genuine and warm. Ramza shook his head and leaned over to pick up his travelling bag, "No. I don't know him."


*


"Ramza! Buddy! Where have you been!? And while you're at it, whatever happened to Hyral?"

"Why is that always the second or third question someone asks me?" Ramza mumbled, still reeling and utterly confused from his ealier encounter.

Stefanaie leaned over and whispered to Remington discreetly, "Delita's kinda gone AWOL. Bit of a touchy subject."

"Oh." Remington turned red and buried his face in his beer.

"What brings you to Warjiis?" Elitannia McDowell wondered, smoothing her pert, honey-colored hair as it fell endearingly over her shoulders. With her elegant Summoner's cloaks falling about her all green velvet and gold, crossed over a black dress, Elitannia's womanly beauty had taken on a most intimidating quality. Mustadio blushed bright pink everytime the pretty Gariland graduate opened her mouth. Ramza, however, had gone through school with her and fielded the question with relative ease.

"Well, you see, we inadvertantly got ourselves mixed up in this whole mess involving the Bart Company and the Cardinal Draclau, so we're kind of on the run now, but first we've got to stop off at Lionel castle to rescue to Princess who may or may not be a hostage due to our actions."

This brought a hush over the table. Elitannia blinked, Stefanaie nodded sagely, Remington spit his beer back into his glass, sputtered in shock and the small, dark haired boy at the end of the table dropped the bow he had been studiously restringing and stared at Ramza admiringly.

"The Princess Ovelia?" he whispered.

Mustadio shrugged, "Yeah, well, it's not exactly a hired job. It's just that we were travelling with her before so common courtesy dictates..."

"Wow..." Remington marvelled, "You mean you two were actually shacking up with her holiness, the Princess Ovelia Atkascha!? Talk about scoring!"

Stefanaie punched the Knight in the shoulder with as much force as her tiny first could manage. He yelped and glared at her, wounded, "Not everyone thinks about scoring all the time, Remington. Just you." for extra measure, she kicked him savagely under the table, then turned and smiled sweetly at Ramza, "In that case, Ramza, we'll come with you."

"What!?" Ramza excalimed, "You can't do that!?"

Stefanaie pushed the brim of her hat up and stared Ramza down with her green eyes, "And why can't we?"

"Because... it's going to be dangerous and this is none of your business!" Ramza stuttered.

"Yeah!" Mustadio agreed suddenly, having been just as taken aback as his companion, "Who are you to decide for the others?"

"I'm not deciding for the others." Stefanaie insisted, "Just Rem here, because he's too stupid to decide for himself."

Remington glowered, still rubbing his sore shin, "She's lying. Stef's a slave drive. Accept her into your party and you'll never breathe without her permission again."

"Come now Remington." Elitannia commented airily, "She's only that way with the guys."

"Wait, wait..." Ramza cut off the banter and turned the conversation back to the issue at hand, "I don't understand. What's in it for your guys? It makes no sense."

"It makes perfect sense. Elitannia retorted, "There's so much bloodshed these days and so much people making money off it... we just thought it might be nice to be fighting for a cause for once, even if we don't get payed this time."

"And besides," added the small bou breathlessly, "We'll get to meet the Princess Ovelia!"

Stefanaie laughed, "Well, I don't think any of us have that ulterior motive... except for Rem here." she thwacked Remington on his head and he yelped, "Which just goes to show that all men are pigs... well, except for you, Ramza."

"Hey!" Mustadio balked, "What about me? Am I a pig?"

Stefanaie giggled behind her hand, "Oh no, of course not Mustadio, but that has to do mostly with the fact that you're not a man."

Mustadio's face contorted and he jumped up, toppling his seat behind him fuming, "That was completely uncalled for, Wizard! I just suffered severe emotional and physical trauma! Look at me, I bleed!" he waved frantically at his broken wounds, "And how did my dad rub off on you so quickly! You were only around him for a few hours!"

Ramza leaned back in his chair, defeated. He didn't speak, only listened to the cheeful banter, already feeling the weight lifted off his shoulders and being replaced by that comforting sense of stability that comes only from being surrounded by old friends. Even though he hadn't appreciated Rem, Elitannia, Stefanaie and Aston back in his school days, they were here and now he did and that was all that mattered.


*


Agrias was at once agast and furious and if her icy blue eyes could shoot daggers, Gaff Gafgharion would have been laying in a bloodied pile of raw flesh long ago. Instead, she was restrained by a stotic, Lionel soldier glaring with all her might as the aged mercenary paced in and out of her line of vision.

"Well, Lady Oakes, if this isn't a coincidence."

"A planned coincidence, I have no doubt." Agrias hissed, struggling beneath the large soldier stone-like grip.

"Such hostility!" Gafgharion sounded truly insulted. He stopped pacing and tapped his foot, 'tsk'ing beneath his breath, "And after I've come to offer you your freedom!"

"I'd rather die than accept a favor from you." Agrias replied sharply.

"Well, unfortunately you don't have that option." he came closer and cupped Agria's cheek in his rough, leather-bound hand, "Listen carefully, Agrias, because this is how it works. In a few moments I'm going to have the good Knight here release you. Then I'm going to close my eyes and count to two hundred. You're going to take this window of opportunity and run, get over those castle walls and get yourself as far away from here as you can possibly manage in the time you're given."

Agrias lowered her voice so that it was soft, but deadly, "And what if I decide to instead draw my blade and drive it's cold steel into your heart while your eyes are closed?"

"I won't stop you." Gafgharion grinned knowingly, "I'll be dead. So then what?"

"I suppose you're going to tell me."

"Of course. I'll be dead and then your two hundred seconds will be null. You'll be captured and thrown in the dungeon."

"Yes, but I'll go with the satisfaction of having killed you."

"But what sort of satisfaction will that be when in exchange, Ovelia dies?"

Agrias's face paled, "What?"

Gafgharion released his grip on the female knight's cheek and rose to his full height, smiling down at her in a way that was most certainly creepy, "In exactly fourty-eight hours, the Princess will be executed by order of Lord Dycedarg Beoulve at the Golgorand execution site." he placed a contemplative finger on his lips, "Hmm. Fourty-eight hours. Seems like exactly enough time to get to Warjiis, hire some help, and arrive at Golgorand just in time to stage a heroic rescue. Because that's what you're best at, isn't Captain?"

Agrias mulled over this a moment, "Wait... this makes no sense. Why would you want me to interfere with the execution. Nice try, Gaff, but this reeks of a set up."

"But you'll never know whether I'm telling the truth, will you my dear Lady?" he widened his grin with faux-sweetness, "Besides, I doubt you'll live longer than evening."

"And what if I do make it in time?" Agrias asked, smiling back forcibly, "What then, Gafgharion?"

Gafgharion's expression turned from wicked to truly dangerous, his eyes aquiring that cold, blood-thirsty fire of a seasoned mercenary who loved his job, "Well then, Lady Oakes, that's where things start to get interesting."

The gaurd unclamped his arms from Agrias's and she fell with a short gasp, looking around in confusion. Gafgharion closed his eyes and turned his back to her, "You'd better get a head start, Captain." he called pleasantly over his shoulder, "Two hundred seconds is not nearly as long a time as it sounds!"


*


Already they could see the lumbering form of Lionel castle looming over the horizen like a dark, shadowy monster in their nightmares. Ramza certainly wasn't looking foreward to the battle, though he had thought himself prepared. The deeper they dug themselves into this situation, the more brutal were the battles they found themselves in and Ramza knew with certainty that he would end up having to kill again.

'You're nothing but a child who doesn't want to face reality! If you don't like it why don't you try living without depending on someone else for a change, otherwise you're going to continue getting caught up in these situations that have nothing to do with you!'

Maybe Gafgharion had been right. Maybe Ramza had no right dealing with any of these dire issues that were far beyond him. Maybe he sould have just stayed at home and become an obidient little brother to Dycedarg like Zalbag.

'But it does have something to do with me,' he sighed, 'If it didn't before, it certainly does now. I don't know how it happened or what it means, but I'm a player now. My contribution to these times may change things. If I withdrew now, things might turn out very differently.' it dawned on Ramza sickeningly, like a red sailor's sky on the morning of an important journey, 'I'm not... insignificant...'

"Hey, is it just me, or does it sound like we're coming up to a battle over this rise?" Stefanaie stopped walking and shushed everyone, cupping a hand around her ear. She squinted as if limiting her vision would enhance her hearing, then jogged ahead, falling to her stomach when she's reached the hill's summit. She stayed there for a few second, then turned her head and beckoned for the other's to follow her lead, green eyes catching the evening sunlight.

Sure enough, there was a battle taking place on the even ground at the base of the shallow hill. A woman seemed to be admirably defending herself against six soldiers, two already laying lifeless at her feet.

Mustadio choked, "Ramza, is it just me or is that really Agrias?" he whispered worriedly.

"That's... defnitely Agrias. Who else would be fighting Lionel troops in a Hokuten uniform?"

"Friend of yours?" Elitannia wondered.

"You could say that." Mustadio groaned and placed his forehead in his palm, "I'm taking this as a very bad sign..."

"Well then." Remington stood and cracked his knuckled loudly, "I hardly think six men on one defensless woman is fair. Perhaps we should break this part up."

Ramza followed his old dorm-mate's lead and rubbed his fingers along his sword's hilt, already dreading drawing it, "I hardly think Agias is helpless, but you've got the right idea."

"Right." Stefanaie and Elitannia stood almost in unison, the young Wizardess looking the pale Aston and beaten Mustadio over, "Aston and Mustadio can cover us from here, we'll go in. Five on six sounds a bit more reasonable to me." Although Stefanaie claimed there was no leader in their four person band, the way everyone nodded to her wise orders told otherwise.

Ramza followed the Knight, Summoner and Wizard as they ran down the hill trying to make as much noise as possible so that the soldiers would draw their attention away form the exhausted Agrias and it worked. The six of them fell back and Agrias collapsed to her knees, breathing deeply, as Remington shouted: "Hey! Why don't you try some of the spraint with us, boys!?"

The oldest of the group, who wasn't much older than Ramza himself, stepped forwards and sneered, "And where did you come from, that a bunch of girls like you four think you can take us?"

Stefanaie's eyes sparkled beneath the wide brim of her Wizard's hat and she raised three fingers. An arrow flew with surprising accuracy and hit the snide Knight in the heart. He gugrled slightly, stumbled back a few steps then fell. Agrias looked up, trying to find where the arrow had been shot from and the other soldiers paled.

"Now." Stefanaie said, "We can do this bloodlessly, or I can introduce you to my charming friend Elitannia here. She's been training in Summoning, you know."

A few of the Knights began to quiver, everyone knew that a fully trained Summoner was among one of the most dangerous things a person could ever run into in their lives. Not many people trained in the art, as it was difficult and strenious and often halved one's lifespan, but Elitannia didn't waver, only crossed her arms and smiled.

Another uppity soldier spoke up, "She's naught' but a girl, and neither are you. We've still got the upper hand, lass. You'd better back off and let us deliver the good Captain here back to the castle or you're in for a world of hurt." he raised his sword threateningly.

"Are you really sure you want to do that?" Stefanaie's voice took a turn for the innocent, "I honestly think we can settle this peacefully." she snapped her fingers and it seemed flames srping up from nowhere's under the soldiers's feet. The whole pack of the yelped and jumped, their boots singed and the fire still blazing below them. The youngest three ran but the older two remained, glaring defiantly at the Wizardess who just shrugged and snapped her fingers again, calling forth a lighting bolt, which was quite perculiar considering the skies were clear.

One of the obviously knew what was good for him and tore after the other three. The last hesistated, as if he thought that he might be able to take on the four youths on his own, but realizing he was likely to get an arrow through his throat spun clumsily and called for the others to wait up for them.

"Stefanaie, you're just too cool." Remington shook his head and Ramza couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. Stefanaie bowed dramatically as Mustadio and Aston came up behind them, panting.

"What the hell just went on down here?" Mustadio demanded, "There was a lightning storm... or... something."

"That was just Stef showing off." Remington rolled his eyes.

"Yes, because everyone else seemed too stunned to do anything. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I've just used up all the energy my body was saving to get me through the next three weeks. I've got to go drink an ether and pass out." She politely removed herself from the conversation and Ramza rushed to help Agrias up.

The lady Knight brushed back her strewn hair and nodded thankfully at the small group, "Please accept my gratitude. I may not have escaped with my life if you hadn't intervened." her tone was even and sincere, but gave one the feeling that she would have prevailed despite their help. Mustadio chuckled under his breath.

"Leave it up to the Captain to get herself neck deep in trouble, yet appear perfectly in control of the situation."

"Where's Princess Ovelia!?" Ramza asked desperatley. Agrias expression mirrored his concern.

"She's in great danger! They're planning to execute her at Golgorand in hours!" She peered over Ramza's shoulder at his newly found entourage, "Are they accompanying us?"

Ramza nodded, "Yeah. They're friends from... er, school. We can trust them."

"Alright. Introductions are in order, but we must move quickly."


*


The sun was dipping deep under the far hills and the first stars of nightfall had begun to show their faces. Gafgharion tapped the seconds away on his hilt, buried deep within the heavy cloak of an executioner. He was beginning to fear that the good Lady Oakes wouldn't show.

"Come now, Agrias, you're much better than this. Where are you..."

The girl struggled at the gallows, her dark brown eyes nearly closed and her neck chaffing at the noose tied tightly around her. Gafgharion continued muttering to himself: If Agrias didn't show up soon, that was it. He'd pull the switch and the entire thing would be over and now wouldn't that be a shame.

"They're coming, Commander!" a young Knight atop the barracks called down following a sharp whistle. Gafgharion released a tense breath and pulled his black hood down further over his face to hide it.

"A little tardy, Lady Oakes." he whispered, taking his position, "But we can still work with this."


*


"That's far enough!" Agrias shouted, looking as if she were ready to take on the entire Lionel army on her own despite the fact she was disheveled and had several open wounds scattering her body, "Return the Princess now!"

Ramza scanned the dim execution ground catiously. The place was plain and un-apocolyptic, certainly not what one would expect from the site of St. Ajora's death. There was only the executioner and one gaurd, but the place was tense and silent. Why was there such lax security? Why were there no spectators? Witnesses? His eyes fixed themselves on Ovelia, her fine dress torn and bloodstained and her eyes trained downwards. But she looked up at exactly the wrong moment.

Ramza gasped, "Agrias, that's not..."

"Heh heh... you've all fallen into a trap." The executioner threw off his heavy, canvas cloak revealing himself to be Gafgharion, sword already drawn and eyes malicious. From behind him, four Knights and three archers slipped out of hiding. The faux-Ovelia easily came free of the noose and shook her hair free of it's barely-done braid, producing a blade fro within the folds of the Princess's red cape.

Agrais's manner became wary, not like a woman defeated, but like a caged animal, "Should have known. You'll never change, Gafgharion... now where's the Princess."

"In the castle. Where's the stone."

"What stone?" Agrias oved like the expert swordswoman she was as Gafgharion came closer. Ramza wasn't sure who would win in a fight and he wasn't exactly anxious to find out, "I don't know anything about a stone."

"Stop playing the fool, Captain. I'm talking about the Zodiac stone. The one blondie there stole from the Cardinal." he jerked his chin in Mustadio's direction, "Just have him hand it over."

Mustadio backed away, fiddling with his gun, "If you want it, you're going to have to take it from me!"

Remington, Aston and Elitannia meanwhile were mortally lost. They looked at Stefanaie questioningly, since she seemed to know what was going on, but the only answer they got was the perky Wizardess reaching tenatively for her own weapon.

"Well, that's too bad. Anyways, before we kill you I've got a bit of a service to perform, a favor for a friend if you could call it that." He relaxed his sword and opened his arms in Ramza's direction, "Ramza! Come back to Igros where you belong! Your brother said he'd forgive you. You don't have to die unecessarily."

Ramza was aware that Agrias and Mustadio were giving him looks. Shocked, 'what the hell is he talking about, Ramza?' looks, but the Beoulve was having a hard time understanding exactly what Gafgharion was trying to say.

'Dycedarg said... he would forgive me?' his anger rose in his gut and began to show on his usually mild-mannered face, 'Did Dycedarg order Gafgharion to kill me if I didn't obey?'

"No." he said firmly, moving closer to Agrias and celnching his teeth, "You can tell Dycedarg that I'm not like Zalbag! I won't be involved in anymore wrong doing just because he tells me it's alright!"

" 'Wrong doing!?' " Gafgharion sputtered, "What do you mean boy!? You're a Beoulve! You have a mission to accomplish! 'Wrong doing' indeed. It's the life you were born into, don't be such a fool!"

"My brother is making war for personal reasons!" Ramza shouted back, "What else can you call it other than evil!?"

"Oh please." Gafgharion rolled his eyes dramatically nd took a few steps forwards, "I'd call it 'sacrifice'. You need it to accomplish anything. Without sacrifice there's no progress! No history! Look at Ivalice! It's Corrupt! Someone must change it, and that's what Dycedarg's trying to do! Listen, I don't like the guy anymore than you do, but he's got the right idea. Stop being so thick headed, boy. Think!"

"No! I refused to let there be anymore helpless sacrifices like Teta!"

"FORGET ABOUT FORT ZEAKDEN!" Gafgharion bellowed, throwing his head back in fustration, "It couldn't be helped! You're a Beoulve! You've a given duty, it's fate! Listen, kid, I like you. Don't throw you entire life away because of something you couldn't have helped!"

"Is it fate that killed Teta?" Ramza growled, "Is it fate that let her die? She was only twelve years old! No, WE killed her! Yes, us, my family, the Beoulves! We killed her out of convinience! She didn't need to die, the only reason she did was that Dycedarg got lazy! I've run from the truth long enough, I'll never let my ignorance kill anyone again!"

"Ramza, are you really a Beoulve?" Agrias asked softly, not letting her stance fall, but setting her dark blue eyes on Ramza heavily.

Gafgharion laughed harshly, "What? You didn't know, Argias? Please tell me you didn't buy all that 'Ruglia' spraint. His name is Ramza Beoulve, the youngest of Balbanes sons and a runaway."

"It's true." Ramza bit his lip and gaze at Agrias pleadingly, watching her eyes for signs of either approval or distrust, "But I'm not like my brothers! I didn't know about kidnapping the Princess! I swear it!"

"This is ridiculoud!: Gafgharion cut in, clearly growinfg impatient, "ONE GIRL has died. So what? We must first think about 'justice'!"

Ramza looked back to Gafgharion, gripping his sword in both hands again, "There's no justice in using and decieving people! I can't just ignore people dying in the name of 'justice'! I'll save the Princess, I don't care what you or my brothers say!"

Ramza's burning anger was enough to propell him forwards although he realized he was being exceptionally foolish. He nearly caught Gafgharion offgaurd. The old mercenary hadn't been expecting Ramza to jump at him, but he gained his ground quickly, subduing the young Beoulve with his superior strength, skill, speed and experience. Ramza fell to the ground and winced as Gafgharion's blade fell towards him, but suddenly Agrias was threre, blocking the dark blade's descent. He marvelled at her as she easily parried Gafgharion's vicious assault even after her grueling day. If he had any doubt about Agrias's opinion of him, they were instantly dissolved. She had saved his life without a second thought, that was all the answer he needed.

Ramza jumped to his feet in time to meet a younger soldier's blade and noticed that the small skirmish between the two older Knights had descended into a full blown meele. It was all a blur, all that mattered to Ramza was the sharp clanging of cold steel on cold steel and he fought madly for his own life; Here and there he heard the clap of thunder or the hiss of ice or saw an arrow flying by. Once, he even caught sight of Elitannia, emerald cloaks strewn aside and twirling a blunt, oak staff violently.

Ramza found himself pinned against the gallows, his foe's face dripping sweat and blood. He brought his sword down, but Ramza stopped it desperately, feeling his weaking wrists buckle. He slide under the taller Knight's elbow and the blade drove itself into the rickety wooden structure. Ramza took this oppurtunity and drove his own sword into the other youth's side. He pushed and turned the hilt, forcing it in deep until he felt warm liquid running over his hands. He tried not to think of the nature of this liquid, tried to forget it was blood. He imagined the young Knight's life force draining from his body like ale from an unstopped keg.

He pulled the sword from the dead Knight's body quickly, shoving it back into the hilt so he wouldn't have to stare at it, bloodied but still cold. The battle was over, the field around the gallows stained with blood and littered with dead bodies. Ramza looked them over carefully, but his friends were all lined up along the stubby wall, looking up.

Gafgharion and Agrias were still battling and it didn't look like either of them were ready to fall. They had somehow made their way up to the roof of the barracks and as Ramza watched the seasoned masters, he realized for the first time the asthetic beauty of sword art. The ducked and slashed and blocked almost like it was a coordinated dance. If you forgot that the desire end result was death, it could be beautiful.

Gafgharion leaned back, away from Agrias's blow and said haltingly, "Well, it doesn't appear that either of this are really in the condition to finish this fight. I'll be seeing you around." he snapped his fingers, much like Stefanaie had when frightening the knights who had been assaulting Agrias, and then he was gone.

Agrias's eyes widened and she cursed, falling forwards. She caught herself, using her sword as a brace, "Dark magic," she muttered, looking around wildly, "That just isn't natural."

"We should... rest before heading to the castle." Stefanaie removed her hat and wiped her brow, "And clean our clothes of..."

"Yes." Ramza agreed, his voice small. He looked down at his bloodstained clothes and almost began to cry, "But not here."










VII.
'The Zodiac Stones are the ultimate Holy Relics
The have the uncanny ability to fester out evil in all it's forms
And destroy it with as much impunity as evil destorys good
Perhaps, this ruthlessness is what makes them so potent
Who knows what would happen if a Holy Stone fell into the hands
Of someone... unworhty?'
- From the Studies of Bishop Simon










Ovelia's food was once again untouched. Delita sighed when he saw this, but was not shocked. She hadn't been eating since the day Agrias left the castle. She'd just sit there and stare at the dirty floor, withering away and not caring.

"You can't go on much longer without food." Delita said sensibly. She didn't look at him or answer, just shrugged her slender shoulders lightly as if he should've realized by now that was her intent. Delita tried again, "I know what you're trying to do, but it won't work. Don't you realize that no one will mourn your death? In fact, it should make most people happy. So if you think you're going to start some sort of revolution by starving yourself in this dungeon, you're deluded. There's no point in you dying so just eat the food!"

Ovelia's usually calm eyes whipped up then, defiant and burning with anger, "I should have known you were in on SOMEONE'S plot! Why else would someone give me the time of day unless they had some sort of use for me."

Delita shook his head, "You've got it all wrong, Ovelia."

"Do I really?" Ovelia grinned showing all her teeth. It was a sarcastic expression made all the more ugly by the Princesses purity, "If you're not handing me over to Larg, then what do you plan to do with me, hmm? Am I going to be used a bargaining chip again, or perhaps the pretty figurehead of an army. Ohh, I think that would be best, dont you? Killing people in my name?"

"None of that. I'm just going to take you somewhere you belong. That's all."

"So you are using me." Ovelia's face fell as if she had finally convinced herself, "But you can't make me do what you want."

"I don't really think you have too many other options right now, Princess." Delita's tone was irritated. He leaned his back against the prison wall and crossed his arms "If you want to live, that is."

Ovelia was taken aback, "Was that a threat? I thought you didn't want me to die?"

"It wasn't a threat."

"Then what did you mean by it."

"I meant that..." the secret meaning of Delita's words were cut off by the loud creak of the dungeon's door signifying the ominous entrace of two men. One was the Cardinal Draclau, drastically changed from the good natured man Ovelia had met upon entering Lionel castle, and the other was a Knight she had never met before. He was tall and broad in a muscular manner with a severly chisled face and dark, intelligent eyes. His wavy, chestnut hair was wisked back in a classy style and he wore dark purple robes, marked by the insigna of the Murondic church. Ovelia could tell that this was a dangerous man. He spoke.

"So... she's Ovelia." it was more to himself that a general statement.

The Cardinal attempted a kind smile, but Ovelia would not be fooled again, "How are you Princess?"

"As fine as someone can be while tied up in a dungeon." she retorted, his expression darkened.

"I hope you realize that you wouldn't be in here right now if you'd just behaved." Ovelia hmphed and turned her head. The dark Knight laughed and shook his head.

"She's almost too good a substitute. Those old boys at the council really did their work, you can hardly tell she's not the real thing!"

Ovelia's eyes flashed in his direction, and she noticed that even the stotic-faced Delita was looking to the mysterious Knight for answers.

"Mr. Vormov." Draclau said delicately, "She hasn't been told."

The Knight- this Vormov- stopped laughing abruptly. His face became gim, "I see... poor girl."

"What are you talking about?" Ovelia asked breathlessly, not sure she really wanted to know. She could feel that pit of dread building inside her, the one that came whenever something horrible was about to happen. Only this time, it had something to do with her.

Vormov leaned closer and talked as if he were trying to comfort a child, "Listen carefully... you are not a Princess."

"W-what?"

"The real Princess died a long time ago. You're just a substitute. A back up plan, just in case."

Ovelia's mind took those words in far too easily and she was afraid that she might start believing them. She drew away from the man as if he were hot irons and closed her eyes, "No. You're lying to me!"

"It's not a lie." the Knight continued breezily, "You are not Ovelia. Old senators didn't care much for the Princess Luveria so they made you to take the throne someday, outsing the real Princess. They killed two older Princes, in fact, and made it look like an illness just so you could take the center stage. Omodolia would be too weak to rule, so you'd take the throne." he raised up to his full hight and made a fist. His voice didn't sound angry though, only amused, "However, Orinas was born. Even now, no one knows whether he's really the King's son. There's been a nasty rumor floating around for the past few years that Larg may have had some 'seeds' planted to make his sister royal-mother. In any case, the old men's plan was ruined."

"Liar!" Ovelia insisted, rufusing to even make an attempt to listen. He couldn't know what he was saying to her. Even if it was the truth, why did she have to know about it? Killing, plotting, lying, all for her sake? It was horrible, everything she loathed done in her name. And for what? So she could be a puppet? Was that her only purpose in life, to be used? "I don't believe any of it!"

"Think what you will. It doesn't matter to me." Vormov shrugged, "All that matters is that you're called a 'Princess'. No one else knows the truth and that makes you the ace up our sleeve."

"What are you going to do with me?"

"Nothing. Just be a 'Princess' as you are now."

Something in the Knight's tone made Ovelia shudder. Slowly, she looked at him, doing the best to form a snarl on her lips, "My ancestors were Atkachas! You can't control me!"

Vormov snarled right back, "Then what? If Larg catches you, you'll be killed right? We just want to help you take the throne."

Liars, all of them. All these men who pretended to be her friends, even the handsome dark haired boy who offered to save her life. She wanted to fight them, but she also wanted to curl up in a corner and die. What made her life worth living? She was just a doll, a pawn. What's the point of living if you'll never have any free will. She lowered her eyes submissively, "Who are you?" she sobbed, "What do you all want from me?"

"We're allies of neither Larg or Goltana. Just collaborators."

The Cardinal placed a hand on Vormov's shoulder, "Vormov, we should let her calm down. Once she comes to her senses she won't refuse our help." Ovelia got the feeling that she wasn't supposed to have heard that.

'Sorry.' she thought sarcastically, 'I forgot... puppets don't even listen unless their told it's alright.'

"You're probably right." Vormov replied in that same tone. Ovelia wanted to tell them she wasn't stupid, but doubted that even she believed it.

The two older men left, but Delita lingered a moment, approaching Ovelia and kneeling next to her, "You should really eat. It'll be a three day journey, but I promise things will be better once we get to Zeltennia."

Ovelia locked eyes with him for a moment, asking him silent questions with her gaze. She assumed his answer was something akin to a mental shrug as he avoided the subject: 'What are you really trying to do? Why are you trying to make me think you care about me as a person? I'm not a person, remember. Just a wind-up toy in the hands of overgrown children.'

"Delita! Let's go!" The dark haired boy rose quickly and left, leaving Ovelia alone and confused with her own conflicted thoughts. She pressed her cheek against the cold stone of the dungeon floor and secretly hoped that she'd be dead by the time she woke up.


*


"Can you imagine what it's like not to be?"

Ramza looked up fro his washing surprised. Aston was a timid little boy and didn't speak often and to suddenly coe out of nowhere and ask such a vauge, philosiphical question. Ramza shrugged, not sure what the young archer wanted hi to say, and watch the blood soak off his shirt in the river, creating light red rings in the water.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well... you seem a little discotent after that last battle."

"Of course I am!" Ramza wrung his shirt with increasing vigor, "I killed someone. That's never a nice feeling. I don't... I just don't like killing people."

"Well, neither do I. Do you think just because you're a noble you shouldn't have to get your hands dirty? In war, everyone kills. Even milk maidens."

Ramza let the laundry fall back into the water with a wet splash, "Are you going to start treating me differently because I'm a Beoulve? Aren't you a noble too?"

Aston crossed his legs and sighed, pulling his own shirt out of the cool water and letting it wave in the breeze, "Sort of. I was a war orphan, but Stefanaie's father adopted me, much like your father with the Hyral kids. Anyways, Mr. Arlock was in the employ of the Bart company. That made Stef and I as good as nobles in the eyes of the Gariland administrator. Nevertheless, I've probably killed more people in my life than you've met."

"And you're proud of that?" Ramza had thought Aston was quiet, shy and nervous manner and now here he was talking like a seasoned warrior. Talking like he was... Gafgharion.

'Was this what Gafgharion was like fourty years ago? Quiet, thoughtful and ruthless?'

"No, I'm anything but proud but I do it because I have to."

"You don't have to..." Ramza stood and shook his partically clean shirt in the breeze, "No one has to kill."

"If I didn't kill, I'd be dead by now. Face it, Beoulve, in the end our base instincts tell us to keep ourselves alive. Now answer my question. Can you imagine what it's like not to be?"

Ramza rolled the words on his tounge before saying them, and even then he wasn't sure, "Um... no. I don't, but I'd imagine it would be something like sleeping... only a very deep sleep."

Aston folded his laundry over his arm and shook his head, "No. That's not it at all. I know it's not, because sleep is pleasant, comfortable. Whatever happens after you die must be horrible, otherwise people wouldn't fight so hard to avoid it." he left before Ramza had a chance to reply.

Ramza thought very hard about this, and laid his slowly drying shirt on the ground, carefully pulling his sword out of it's sheath. He stared at the blood on it's length before plunging it deep into the running water.

'Not being... is it really fear of death that makes people fight? Am I afraid to die?' he thought about his first real battle. It seemed like so long ago, back at Gariland with those theives. He remembered those dreadful few seconds between the knife digging into his side and Stefanaie dragging him off into the alley. They were blurry, but from what he could remember they were some of the worst seconds of his life, up there with the moments of Teta's death and his ruminations about Delita's certain doom- and he hadn't even been close that time.

'But just beause the alternative is your own death, does that still make it right?' Then Ramza thought about never seeing Alma again and suddenly, he didn't care anymore.


*


Gafgharion barely made it to the castle before them. The Teleport spell could only be used once at the best of times and it wouldn't carry one very far. Aside from that, he was heavily injured. His battle with Lady Oakes had been more trying that he would admit even to himself, but he would still prevail.

This time he had no support. They were all dead and he very well couldn't go and ask the Cardinal for another chance. He knew what those stones could do and facing Draclau now would be worse than being eaten alive by rats.

'I could just leave. Run to Riovanes or Limberry and forget I ever even took this job in the first place. Take some time off to regain my strength and go on with life as usual.' he laughed at himself, because as tantalizing as the idea was, he knew it was not an option.

First of all, he had his proffesionalism to worry about. He'd never given up on a job before and he wasn't about to make this one a first.

Second of all, this job had become somewhat personal to him. He hadn't been lying when he had said he liked Ramza, but the boy had problems dealing with reality. If he could die having taught the mule-headed youngster one lesson it wouldn't be a waste. Ramza was Balbanes only true son, as far as Gafgharion could see, and he didn't want such brilliant genes annihilated by the world simply because their owner had problems moving on.

Thirdly, there was Lady Oakes. True her hatred burnt at him like nothing ever had, Gafgharion knew he could never die happy unless she was there to watch. He didn't even know why he tried, why he was so persistent. His casual adoration for her had slowly mutated into a mutual hatred over the years, but God, did the woman know how to wield a sword. She also knew how to cut someone with her eyes and words and for some reason, those abusive tendancies were always the ones foolish men treasured.

"Well, well. How the mighty have fallen." Gafgharion chuckled at the iron, and braced himself against the castle wall to meet Agrias's eyes. She twisted her pretty lips, "You look like spraint. You just don't give up, do you?"

"Just this one last battle!" he croaked, surprised at how broken his own voice was, "Then I'll die a cotented old man."

Agrais corssed her arms and made no move towards her sword hilt, "Forget about it, Gafgharion. I won't give you peace no matter how you plead. I'd rather you suffer."

"Not you, not you!" Gafgharion raised an arm weakly and pointed at Ramza, who jumped as if pulled out of his imaginary world (which was where he most likely had been), "Ramza is the one who must fight me!"

"Me... me?" Ramza nodded and got his sword out, but didn't look too certain, "You're too weak. It's hardly fair."

"Then don't do it Ramza. He's full of spraint, let's just go rescue the Princess. He'll die within a few hours, it's not worth it." Agrias's words were unusally biting. Gafgharion realized that the 'two hundred seconds' game had probably not raised her opinion of him much.

"Come on, Ramza. I'm not so far gone that I can't give you a challenge." He steadied himself on his feet and raised his sword, "Now fight me! En garde!" he rushed at Ramza, who then had no choice but to engage in the battle.

Gafgharion had never seen the youngest of the Beoulve males fight before and noted that he was awkward with a sword. Although he was just and righteous without trying in the tradition of his father, all the old man's fencing skills had been wasted on Zalbag.

Still, Ramza was quick and had a fast mind. He caught on to Gafgharion's tricks easily and soon was moving and twirling like the Gariland graduate he was. His friends watched on silently, but most of them were biting their lips, hands tense on respective weapons in case Gafgharion should suddenly prove himself to be more than a wounded, dying man.

He hadn't meant it, really. His feet were tired and one of his boots caught on a stone, sending him plummeting backwards. To the audience he suspected it looked like he was giving Ramza an opportunity. Agrias's eyebrow shot up as she analyzed his seeming act of charity but Ramza knew the turth. The unfaltering Gaff Gafgharion had finally faltered giving him just enough time to raised his sword and jam it through the old mercenary's jugular.

Gafgharion had just enough time to see the expression on Ramza's face- the frozen lips and unblinking eyes- and know he had suceeded. He had forced the youngest Beoulve to kill in cold blood a disadvantaged opponent and he had forced his to do it with real malice.

Ramza Beoulve had finally grown up.


*


Ramza walked ahead of the others as they stalked through the castle, ignoring pestering chamber gaurds and house maids. He didn't really feel like himself. He still held to both his sword and the fresh memory of how Gafgharion died under that blade, blood gushing from the wound in his neck like fountain as he tumbled dead to the ground. He felt remorseful, but not enough that he was mentally berating himself or drowning in self hatred.

'Is this wrong? Or have I reached my limit. Kill four people and suddenly you're an expert on the subject? Or maybe... maybe I finally understand war.' Not that there was much to understand. War was horrible and it ruined lives. End of story.

Ramza threw open the Cardinal's door with the force of a hurricane, but it seemed that good Cardinal Draclau had been expecting them. He was standing on the rise in front of his desk, his back turned to the door. Something about the calm way he was standing made Ramza stop at the bottom step and wait for the man to speak.

"Gafgharion is not as good as he claims... or was it bad luck?" he turned on the small gathering, a sick smile painted across his fat face, "Anyhow, you're good. I won't deny it, afterall, you have Beoulve blood running through your veins, even if you are a bastard child." Ramza winced. His mother had always been a sore spot for him, one Dycedarg had always enjoyed poking at, "But I don't require your interference anymore." The Cardinal continued, "Leave the stone here or I'll show no mercy."

"Where the Princess!" Ramza demanded.

The Cardinal frowned, "Why, why, WHY must you save her? You deserted the Beoulves. What can you change yourself? Don't waste energy. Without 'power', nothing can be achived. You're powerless."

"Where's the Princess!?" Ramza would have rushed forwards if not for the two hands on his shoulders restrainging him. One belonging to Agrias, the other to Mustadio.

"What's wrong with you Ramza?" Agrias hissed, her fingers sharp and firm on his collarbone.

"Don't push yourself. Something's not right." Mustadio echoed Agrias's concern, "Something bad's about to happen."

Ramza let his shoulders fall and calmed himself, taking deep breaths, 'What is wrong with me...'

"Ovelia's not here anymore. She left for Zeltennia hours ago. In the end, she chose our help over yours."

"That's a lie." Agrias replied with certainty, "Ovelia would never accept your help. It would mean losing her freedom again."

"Quite the contrary, Captain, Ovelia has just begun to think for herself. She chose us for the obvious reasons... to take the throne. Why don't you join us? You can get the best of the Hokuten, and the little Beoulve here can finally out do his brothers. We care about the world too, how about it?"

"What's with all this 'we' business." Mustadio muttered, his hand still on Ramza's shoulders. Ramza ignored him glared at the Cardinal, disgusted.

"You don't know what we want at all! I don't want to change the world! No one can do that! No one's reckless enough to think they can!"

The Cardinal seemed amused by the proceedings, "Well, then what do you want, Ramza Beoulve?"

"I just don't want people to suffer and die needlessly."

"But can you really speak for all you party?" Draclau's eyes fell on Mustadio, "What about your little Engineer friend here? After all, he's holding a stone, and don't stones posses the power to change not only the world, but the truth of everything with it's power?"

Mustadio had been instinctively running his fingers over the small sack on his belt where the stone was held. He drew his hand away guiltily and hung his head, "No, I... that's not what I want either. I don't know what you're talking about..."

The Cardinal tapped his thumb against his chin and made a loud smacking noise with his lips, "How... unfortunate. You don't understand. Well then, I suppose I'll have to show you..."

The Cardinal unfolded his hand, revealing the Holy Stone he had shown Mustadio during the first visit to the caslte. He mumbled something in a language Ramza didn't understand and the entire room was illuminated with blinding, red light. Ramza sheilded his eyes and through the blu he could see the large figure of the Cardinal engulfed. It slowly grew and twisted, mutating and curling until the red smoke cleared.

"Oh... dear lord..." Elitannia backed into the wall and Remington galianty spilt his lunch. Stefanaie only cocked her pistol, green eyes wide as Aston's hand emerged from his quiver, four arrows between his fingers.

The Cardinal was gone. In his place was the lucid, but still flickering image of a grotesque creature, like something out of an old October-fest story. It's wide, grinning mouth was full of rotted and decaying teeth, sharp as razors and crooked. His body was nothing more than a sheet of dull-green leathery skin, stitched together at the middle to hold in the sloppily arranged intestines that seemed to be all but falling out of him. Embedded in his forehead was the Zodiac Stone. The creature bared it's claws, large, glimmering sickles potruding from each doughy limb, and laughed. It's voice was terrible and booming, it seemed to come from everywhere yet focused at a single point, and along with it there was this hich pitched ringing. Ramza cupped his ears but he couldnt escape the din.

"Now do you see? The limitless power? I've suprassed mere human frailty and in essence become a God! You mortals will never understand, you're brains are too under developed to grap the great and wonderful concepts of the master! The teachings of the Lucavi."

'Lucavi, Lucavi...' the words sounded familiar, but the ringing continued even after the beast stopped talking, 'That should mean something to me but why can't I... why don't I remember...'

The room began to tilt as a musky, nerve-numbing smoke began to fill the room. Ramza took his hands away from his ears and steadied himself against the wall. The monster was trying to throw them off gaurd so it would have a chance to kill them.

'Not today...' Ramza stumbled and fell through the mess, hpoing that at the very least, Agrias would follow. Unfortunately, it seemed her body had taken too much abuse already and she slumped in the corner, barely concious but still clutching her sword. Ramza pressed onwards, though, he couldn't allow the others to die. This was his and Agrias's mess. Maybe even Mustadio's. But Remington, Elitannia, Stefanaie and Aston shouldn't have to die because of the enemies they had made.

He blacked out for a moment, then came to at the feet of the creature. He got to his feet, head clearing a bit and raised his sword, only to be thrown back by a red glow. He cried out and cowered, his entire body infused with bright, burning pain. Then he understood.

"Mustadio!" he cried out, voice hoarse and warped by the ringing, "Mustadio! Shoot it! Shoot the... the Zodiac stone!" he couldn't be certain whether the mechanic was in a state to process the words, or if he was even concious. Ramza slumped and played the waiting game, but sure enough the loud snp of gun shot sliced through the ringing and a quick bullet hit the stone. It didn't crack, but the noise and smoke both stopped as the creature reeled backwards a few steps.

Ramza didn't wait. He cut his sword upwards with a loud grunt. He only severed three of the stitches, but that was enough. The creature howled, his dying cry like the screams of a thousand souls. It wasn't pretty and Ramza was caught beneath the barrage of putrid monster gut. He flailed his arms madly and gasped for breath only to find none.

"Help!" he tried to call, "Agrias! Mustadio! Stefanaie!"

He went all dizzy as his lungs burned for air and he gave up. His muscles all went limp and he offered himself up to the darkness. There was another blinding flash of red, then suddenly, there was no dead body on top of him. Just Ramza sprawled out on the dusty ground staring at the celing and clutching th Zodiac Stone to his chest.

He blinked a few times and tired to sit up, only to find his joints stiff and achy. He fell back to the floor and stared some more. Eventually, Mustadio and Agrias entered his vision, both looking a little pale, but no worse for the wear.

"Hey, Ramza, you alive?" Mustadio snapped his fingers, trying to promt a reaction from his prone friend.

Ramza nodded weakly, a lost thought occuring to him, "The Cardinal... er... the creature he became... he said he was a Lucavi."

"Yes." Agrias looked conflicted, "He did say that, didn't he."

"But... I thought that the stone's power was holy. That it was supposed to destroy evil itself. But the Lucavi were..."

"Don't wrack your brain right now, Ramza." Agrias soothed, "We've all been through a lot. We'll figure something out later."

Ramza nodded again, "Yes... later." he closed his eyes, and although he was completely aware that lying in the middle of a dead man's floor was certainly not an appropiate place to sleep he allowed the black to wash over him and carry away his conflicts.










VIII.










"You're the one who saved Ovelia?"

The boy bowed graciously and hastily, dropping to one knee and bowing his head so that it almost hit the floor, "Delita Hyral, Black Sheep Knight under Baron Grimes. I was sent by order of the Baron to save the Princess. I've completed my mission."

"Hyral?" Minister Gelwan raised a very blonde eyebrow, "Never heard of you."

"The Baron died last month in an attack by the Ryomuken." Goltana echoed his first Minister's speculation, "I heard the the entire Black Sheep unit was wiped out."

"That's why I returned." the young soldier answered smoothly, still one one knee but having raised his eyes."

"How's the Princess." Goltana glanced at his advisors. The eldery Kababrif came forwards with an answer.

:Sleeping soundly, sir. She's exhausted from the long trip. She's been through a lot."

"I heard you brought a Prisoner." Orlandu still eyed the guest with only one eye. The other was turned to the boy's sword.

The boy leapt to attention, "Yes sir. Bring him in!" a castle gaurd entered the large meeting room restraining an all too willing young Nanten. He threw him to the ground roughly at the feet of the Black Sheep Knight, "Why did you kidnap the Princess?" he asked loudly, signifying that the Knight was to answer for the entire audience.

"We wanted to frame Goltana to prevent him from taking Lesalia and therefor taking the regency."

"And who gave that order?" the boy continued, "Prince Larg?"

The prisoner shook his head, "No. It was one of Goltana's aides."

"Ridiculous!" Gelwan excalimed, flustered, "No aide would ever do that! Orlandu, silence this lout!"

Goltana made a calming motion with his hands, "Listen, Gelwan, listen..."

"Thank you, majesty." The boy bowed again, but only slightly this time, the returned to questioning, "Who was that aide?" the prisoner hesistate, "Talk! Now!"

"Will you spare my life?" the prisopner had obviously meant it to be a private question, but with the hush and echo of the large room, everyone had heard his cowardly plea.

"If that;s what you really want. Now, who was it?"

The prisoner's finger homed in on the Minister Gelwan like a child blaming an accident on a younger brother. The Minister acted out instantly with rage, signifying his guilt.

"How dare you!" he fumed, "It's a lie! I don't even know this man!"

"What made you betray your Lord, Gelwan?" the young Knight sneered, drawing his sword. As he did so, Orlandu's hand fell to his own hilt, "Were you secuced by the Queen? How sickening."

Gelwan's face was white as a ghost and he had broken out in a cold sweat, "This is insane. I don't know anything!"

"Treason is a serious crime, Minister." the Knight chided.

"I said I don't know anything! I..." Obviously the young Black Knight lost patience. He thrust forwards and drove his sword through the Minister's stomach. When he withdrew it, the blade immedietly returned to it's sheath, but Orlandu didn't relax his gaurd. As Minister Gelwan lay writhing and bleeding to death on the floor, the Knight bowed for a third time, on his knees again.

"Let me say this!" he began, appleasingly, "We must go to the Capital with the Nanten now, or you may be held responsible for this plot! First, we must remove The Queen and Prince Orinas, then place Ovelia on the throne. Please, Lord Goltana. It's the only way!"

Goltana leaned forwards in his chair, as if in deep consideration. Orlandu exchaged a befuddled glance with his son, Olan, then shook his head. Who was he, this Delita Hyral, to waltz into Goltana's meeting room preteding to be humble and loyal only to tell the man what to do with his army? The boy may have had a point, but Orlandu had a feeling tusting him would ultimately be Goltana's downfall.

To his horror, Goltana nodded slowly, "Yes. I think that may just be the thing to do..."


*


'Goltana went to Lesalia and confined Ruvelia in Bethla for kidnapping the Princess and allowed for Ovelia to acceed the throme. But Larg insisted Orinas was the legitimate heir to the sucessor and had him acceed instead.Larg became the regent as gaurdian immedietly. His first action was to send to Hokuten, led by Orinas to Bethla to rescue the Queen. Meanwhile, Goltana sent the Nanten, led by Oveliam, to take care of things in Lesalia and Bethla. This was the beginning of the uphevel which would later be called 'The Lion War'...'
- The Durai Reports, Chapter III