Une Fleuraison Constante
(A Constant Blossoming)
By Tenshi no Ai
All French translations by Hawk of Death
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square Enix does.
Chapter One: Simple Day
From the eastern horizon the sun seemed to bloom from the land, heralded by the soft hues of plum and peach as it sought to usher in the new day. As the darkness of the lingering night faded into the clear blue skies of another beautiful spring day, Ivalice sleepily awoke and began its daily rituals. While various monsters scampered about the dewy fields and shady forests for their meals, humans were ambling about in their respective villages, performing whatever they considered to be their life's work. Young women squeezed out liberal amounts of milk from the bulging udders of domesticated bull demons while young men urged on great minitaureans in the work of plowing the fields. Adults of both sexes began to open their shops and eating establishments, often helped or hindered by their children. Still others packed their goods onto rickety carts and wagons drawn by brightly-colored chocobos and made their way out, traveling on the well worn paths strewn throughout the country. Many of these paths led to the center of the land, the ride bumpy and unimpressive until the grand Château d'Ivalice seemed to literally appear out of nowhere, like a memory bidden by the faintest touch or scent.
Within the castle itself, the main flurry of activity was at the ground level as various merchants gathered from their respective halls, setting up their wares of the day from before the sun had decided to rise. Servants from the various noble families would hurry down to this area, gathering the best foods for their masters' and mistresses' breakfast before scurrying back and delivering the ingredients to the personal family cooks. For those not of the nobility or who could not stand their family at such an early time, if at all, there were large areas in each of the three halls where they could partake of their meals. These places were all run by harried women who could ill afford to be intimidated by the amount of people they would have to serve each day.
The higher the rank, the later they tended to wake. The only two exceptions to this case were the priests of Murond, for they had a requisite prayer time before performing the various acts of good and God needed for each day, and all the knights gathered within the ivory stronghold. By daybreak these good men and women would be hard at work training or relieving those who had the misfortune to have guard duty throughout the night. They accounted for most of the crowd at the various meal areas, chatting in full armor while they consumed their morning bread. This scenario was no different in either Murond, Zeltennia, or Gallionne.
However, Sir Zalbag Beoulve, commander of the Hokuten faction of Gallionne, preferred to eat breakfast at his desk.
This morning was no different from any other for him as he sat behind his large oak desk and idly took a bite out of a piece of bread laden with jam--fruits were held by the Glabados faith to be far better for the body than butter--while reading through various reports. As was his wont, he wore a long-sleeved black tabard with silver and gold designs rising up from the bottom hem and a high-necked mantle over his shoulders; a predominately gray cape flowed from the gold epaulieres over his mantle. Perhaps the most distinctive thing about his uniform were the foreign pieces of armor over his arms and legs, a gift from Marquis Elmdor of Limberry village when the young man became commander. Indeed, Zalbag was young, only approaching his twenty-ninth birthday in the coming summer, yet his hazel eyes seemed much older. Perpetually stressed with the crises that had affected the Hokuten since his ascension, lately he had been unsurprised to find gray streaks in his otherwise immaculate reddish-blond hair.
Swallowing down the last bite of his bread, he frowned at the paper before him before reaching for white quill that seemed to always be in the ink pot. He tapped the end of the dull utensil against the inner edge of the pot's opening before scribbling down a note in slanted handwriting. Just as he finished his notation, there was a knock at his door. Yes, what is it? he called, scanning through the next few lines and not bothering to glance at his door.
A thin, nervous looking man in dark blue robes entered, instantly recognized by the knight as an aide to Duke Bestrada Larg, the head of Gallionne hall. Excuse me, Sir Zalbag. Lord Dycedarg wishes for your presence at his office.
I wonder if it has anything to do with what I was just reading, Zalbag thought as he stood. Thank you, he said aloud, directing the comment more to the paper than to the aide. It was just as well, as the man scurried away after a requisite bow. Still frowning slightly, the commander followed shortly, closing the door behind him as he walked down the hall and up a winding flight of stairs into one of the many turrets of the castle, which was exclusively for the use of the Larg family. He looked around the area, swamped with blue and gold rugs and draperies over the white stone, shaking his head once before walking over to his brother's office and knocking on the closed door. Come in.
Zalbag did so, entering the relatively plain surroundings with something bordering on relief. Other than the dark rug on which the desk was situated on, the room was devoid of Gallionne colors. Dycedarg Beoulve sat at the desk, dressed in the black and silver robe that made many a person think that the man was just a mere aide to Duke Larg. It surprised many to find out that the eldest Beoulve sibling was a Rune Knight, one of the rarest ranks of knighthood awarded in Ivalician history. Despite that, he had chosen to become the Duke's aide instead of inheriting the Hokuten command from their late father. Take a seat, Zalbag, Dycedarg gestured to the lone chair on the other side of the desk.
No, I cannot stay long, the younger of the two closed his eyes. So then, the Royal Order truly believes that the Death Knights have ceased their attacks?
Dycedarg leaned back in his chair, stroking the end of his beard. Having shared the same parentage, the elder brother also had the same reddish hair, albeit with fewer gray hairs despite an age difference of eight years. Apparently so, he answered. It would be an ideal time to bring Alma and Teta back to the castle.That is true, Zalbag nodded slowly, opening his eyes to look at the elder man, I will send the best knights available--That should not be necessary.Send Ramza and Delita in their stead. It would be good for them to leave the castle every now and then.Without escorts? Zalbag, skeptical of the suggestion, crossed his arms as he aimed a questioning look at his brother. Even if the news is true, it seems reckless to allow them to go off without first examining the veracity of this claim.
The look Dycedarg sent to his younger brother was piercing, yet a small smile crept over his face. Father was not nearly so protective. Zalbag smiled too, despite himself, Mother was, though. He looked away, thinking for a moment before shaking his head. Alright, you win. I will have them leave today. Dycedarg said, nodding more to himself. The coming festival would not be the same without everyone together again.
The younger man blinked in surprise at the admission; his brother did not readily reveal sentimental feelings. Yes, that is true. Well, I shall go and find those two. He was about to leave the room when the door opened, revealing Duke Larg, who was dressed in his usual robes of red and blue. My lord, Zalbag quickly knelt, the speed of the action eliciting a chuckle from the duke.
It is alright, Sir Zalbag. You may go. At the duke's words, the Hokuten commander rose and left the room without raising his head. Duke Larg looked over at his closest aide, the good humor quickly draining from his youthful features. He was young for a duke, the same age as the eldest Beoulve at thirty-seven, but being the brother of the queen of Ivalice it was a foregone conclusion that he would be a highly ranked noble, regardless of his age. Is everything going well?Yes, my lord, everything is going as I said it would, Dycedarg answered respectfully, do not trouble yourself with these minor things.It is a relief to hear that from you. Very well, I will leave everything in your hands. Ruvelia has informed me that everything has gone well on her end as well, the duke smiled, though some nervousness lay within his blue eyes. Of course, if anything should happen...
The eldest Beoulve smiled, though it was a cold one. There are plans for that as well. Do not worry yourself too much, my lord.
-0-
Surrender now, or die in obscurity!Do you think those words will frighten me, coming from you?Sword blades clashed together in harsh dissonance once, twice, three times before their owners backed away, glaring at each other warily. One was blond and the other a brunet, sharing similar dark brown eyes that, despite the harsh looks they were giving to each other, danced with excitable joy.
They should, since they come from a Beoulve!Oh, are we wielding names instead of swords now?
The blond dashed forward at his friend's comment, the sword in his right hand swinging down in an overhead strike that was easily thwarted by the brunet's own sword. Metal streaked along metal with an ugly screech before the brunet went on the offensive with a stab at his friend's left side. The tip of the sword was parried away by the other, who adopted a fencing stance afterward.
Do you want to keep playing at this game, Delita?Serious now, Ramza? Fine!
Ramza lunged forward with a basic fencing strike, which Delita parried before it could hit his red leather armor, not bothering to adopt the style his friend was now using. Instead he swung his sword diagonally at the blue-clad blonde, who deflected the blow. Soon the match degraded to the friends striking the other's swords in a futile attempt to score a point on the other and utterly failing to come anywhere close to that goal.
So, is that what the instructor is teaching you two? Perhaps I should replace him with someone with competent skills...
Both boys quickly lowered their swords at the voice, Ramza looking around with wide eyes. Brother! What are you doing out here?
Zalbag glanced around. They were outside of the castle, in a small alcove of the castle walls. He knew that the two often came out here to practice their swordplay just after breakfast, as they had afternoon practice with the rest of the Hokuten cadets. I have a mission for you two, he answered lightly.
A mission, sir? Delita asked quietly. His hair, which was fairly long with the ends touching past his earlobes, was messily hanging over his ears. His complexion was darker than most of the residents of the castle, an olive tone than reddened nicely in the sun. There was something of shrewdness in his dark eyes, glinting even now at the elder Beoulve's words.
'Sir'? From you, my given name is fine, the older man smiled as Delita hurriedly nodded. Anyway, the mission is to go to Orbonne and bring Alma and Teta back.
Ramza frowned, sheathing his sword in the scabbard at his side. His blond hair was unruly and tied into a tail, his face blotched red from the recent exercise. Just us? But what about the Death Knights?There has been no activity from them as of late, so it should be safe enough, Zalbag answered, privately marveling that his younger brother would have the same concerns he held, besides, you are both practically knights anyway, so it should not be such a difficult journey.
The friends looked at each other for a long moment before Delita nodded. We will go.Good to hear, the commander replied. There will be chocobos waiting at the front entrance. It should not take more than a few days to reach Orbonne, he looked at his younger brother, who was oddly quiet. Any objections, Ramza?
The bright-haired boy was startled out of his thoughts. None at all. We will go to the marketplace right now.
Slightly concerned, Zalbag merely turned away, tossing a few words over his shoulder as he walked away, My sisters are important to me, so please take care of them.'Sisters', huh? Delita murmured long after the Hokuten commander had left.
Well, naturally. Teta has always been like a sister to me.Hearing that from you is fine, but I never expected Zalbag to say anything like that. Ramza shrugged, and if Dycedarg had said it?
Delita rolled his eyes at that, deadpanning, I never wanted to see the end of the world.
The friends laughed at that as they entered the castle and headed into the marketplace. It was crowded and noisy, with only the loudest of merchants able to be heard over the din and therefore able to attract the most business. Without any spoken words, the true sign of a compatible and long-standing friendship, the two headed over to buy curative items and rations, skipping an entire area filled with gleaming weapons and sturdy shields. While Delita considered the amount and cost of the items, as he had a better head for analysis and numbers than Ramza could ever profess to, the blond scanned the area. It was dark, with light streaming in from only the thin slits carved high in the room to prevent flooding during the rainy seasons. There were many different sorts of people in the marketplace in the morning, and it had always interested the young Beoulve that there were so many different sorts of jobs in the world.
There was a man nearby, a tall blond dressed in a casual tunic, pants and boots topped with a cape. Ramza felt he had seen this man before, and when the man turned his head slightly while talking to the merchant the young Beoulve was taken aback. It didn't help that Delita had finished his negotiations with the shopkeeper and casually tapped Ramza on the shoulder, startling the noble. What is it? Delita asked, curious.
That man, there, Ramza inclined his head towards the tall man, who was starting to leave with a bag of supplies, he looks familiar. Strange, though...he has red eyes. The brunet watched the man turn away from them and leave, walking towards the entrance to the Murond hall. He looks like the man Zalbag was talking to a few days ago.
The blond teenager's eyes widened. Now I remember. He would be one of the Four Pillars of the Shrine Knights, er...the Pillar of Morality? Delita grunted, losing interest. We should leave. The sooner we get to Orbonne, the sooner we can finally see our sisters again.True. What has it been, a year? Two years?A year and a quarter, because of the Death Knight attacks. We missed celebrating Teta's birthday.Should we bring our gifts with us, or leave them for later?Leave them, it--ow! Delita stumbled as a man rushed into him. This man turned around, holding up one of his hands in placation, as the other was occupied with a leather bag.
Forgive me, I was not paying attention, the man said, concerned. His skin color was darker than Delita's and his hair style appeared foreign, with shaved sides and with the rest of his dark brown hair pulled into a tail just over the back of his skull. Delita nodded shortly and the man hesitated, but instead just nodded back and left.
Are you okay? Ramza asked, glancing at the man's back and noticing a small imprint of a red lion on the back of his bright yellow mantle. Hm, he has Zeltennia's mark on him.
Delita glanced back. He seems a lot nicer than most Zeltennians, then. Well, shall we go?
-0-
After running into Delita Hyral of Gallionne hall, the man with the yellow mantle learned his lesson and began slowly jogging through the marketplace. This consideration for the other people milling about the area was duly rewarded, as he reached the entrance to Zeltennia hall without further incidence. He made his way up several flights of stairs and walkways with a practiced familiarity, and as he reached his home he smiled, jiggling the bag he held as he opened the door. His dark eyes widened when he saw that there was already someone inside the rather spartan place. Father, I did not think you would be here at such an hour, the dark-skinned man commented as he closed the door.Ah, Orlan, the same could be said for you, Sir Cidolfas Orlandu, commander of the Nanten faction, said warmly from his seat at the table in the common room. He had been reading a book, but at his adopted son's arrival he placed it down and turned his attention to the younger man. How is your mother?She is more than fine, though she wishes I would visit more often, Orlan raised the leather bag he had been holding in his left hand, she wishes you the best, and has asked me to give this to you.
The weathered Swordmaster glanced at the unobtrusive object, something like reluctance crossing his face. She is still not trying to pay me for taking you in, is she? It was a known fact that, while the good knight often liked to perform charitable works, he preferred for them not to be acknowledged too often. He had adopted Orlan Durai a little less than a decade ago, after the boy's father had died while under service to the Nanten, and the widowed mother was still trying to pay Cidolfas for his kindness despite her own meager pay as a shopkeeper.
Orlan walked forward and deposited the bag onto the table. I made sure to check before I left, he sat down across from his father and smiled guilelessly, you would like it.
His interest piqued, the Nanten commander took the bag into his capable hands and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. Your mother has good taste, Cidolfas complimented, setting both items aside. And how is Zarghidas?The village is... the young man, a skilled astrologer who cared not for the castle's opulence, seemed to be searching for the appropriate words, well, it is as impoverished as the day I left.Ah. Duke Goltana has yet to address that, I see.Duke Goltana has yet to address a lot of things, Orlan muttered bitterly, urged on by the recent memory of his mother's struggling store and the village's faded look. When he looked up, he was greeted with his adopted father's stern face and realized he had gone too far in his criticism.
The knight leaned back in his chair, something of a glare affixed to the man before him. Loyalty is the Orlandu way. Watch what you say.Forgive me, sir, Orlan looked down, properly chastised, it will not happen again.
It was quiet in the room as both men took a deep breath and let go of the moment. Finally, Cidolfas broke the silence, saying, As to why I would be here at such a time, there has not been anything for me to do.What about the Death Knights?Dycedarg said that the Hokuten would take care of it. Orlan frowned slightly at this news. Surprising. The Hokuten tend not to take command of a situation that easily.
His father laughed at this. In the days long before, Balbanes would eagerly take charge just to spite Vormav and I! But his sons are cautious and no one from the other halls is willing to challenge that.
Smiling faintly, the astrologer closed his eyes. Not even you, Father?Heroes must rise out of their own wont, not from the wills of others, Cidolfas murmured. With Balbanes gone and Vormav distracted by his work, I am afraid that my time is coming to a close.
Orlan looked at his adopted father then, surprised at those words. Cidolfas Orlandu was not the type to think of his own destiny, rather, he tried his hardest to substantiate the destinies of others. Duke Druksmald Goltana, the Nanten, even Orlan himself all benefited from the revered knight's steadfast loyalty and benevolence. To hear the words of an old, tired man coming from the renowned Thunder God Cid's mouth worried his adopted son.
I was thinking of saving that bottle until the festival, Orlan said, standing up, but perhaps we should drink to our good fate now.
-0-
At the marketplace, Ramza Beoulve had noticed a man who he had later recalled to be one of the Four Pillars of the Shrine Knights. While there was a commander for Murond's military faction, the illustrious--if not distracted--Vormav Tingel, there were three other Pillars, supporting the ideals of the Glabados faith. Ramza had guessed that this particular Pillar was the Pillar of Morality, and he was right. Had he thought a bit more on that particular line, he surely would've recalled some bit of gossip that one of the Pillars was an avid hunter who spent much of his time around the grassy fields that surrounded the castle. Perhaps the young Beoulve would've then connected the gossip to the casually dressed man. He would've then been correct once again.Sir Beowulf Kadmus, the Pillar of Morality for the Shrine Knights, was indeed a hunter.
The knight walked into the Murond section of the chocobo stables, discriminately examining each avian monster as he strode past the stables. Noticing a familiar figure at the corner of the room, he smiled and approached quickly. Good morning, Sir Izlude. Another punishment?
Young Izlude Tingel, about to turn seventeen in a couple months' time, looked chagrined as he turned from feeding the chocobo to greet his superior. Good morning, Sir Kadmus. Father seems to have given up on me.
Beowulf raised an eyebrow at this, already knowing what was at the heart of this pessimism. Did you not tell him about your eyesight?You know Father hates to hear excuses, Izlude was about to say more, but a small, white moogle flew up to him, hovering before his face until the young man handed it a few stalks of Gysahl Greens. The mystical creature zoomed away, holding out the greens with its tiny paws to a particularly ravenous looking red chocobo. Izlude grinned at this sight, pushing back his light brown hair from his forehead before noticing the older knight's blank expression. Well, it is just as Sir Wodring says: Even for the smallest tasks, use all that is under your command to use'.Ingenious. Wherever did you find the creature?It followed me home a few weeks ago.That sounds like a charm Sir Kletian would want for himself.Yes, but he would only use it on my sister.
Beowulf paused at this oddly straightforward comment. Izlude was unarguably the kindest and most polite of all the knights in Murond; however, his inability to hide what he was thinking led to many incidents of awkwardness and once prompted a comment by Sir Rofel Wodring: Once again, young Izlude has shown us the true danger of misdirected honesty.
The young man realized what he had just said and laughed nervously. Well, it is a good thing Melia is not here. She does not like to think about those sort of things.Where is your sister? Beowulf asked, mentally trying to decide between two different chocobos.
Out to fetch someone to fix a series of doors throughout the hall. They seem to break at an alarming rate these days, the Night Blade took one glance at the other knight and turned back to his punishment. The chocobo in the second stable to the left of you is a patient one, good for hunting.
The honored Shrine Knight smiled at the advice. He was known to be fairly indecisive about the less important things. Thank you, Sir Izlude, he replied sincerely, going over to the stable the young man had mentioned and prepping the chocobo there for the hunt.
And outside the castle, the sun was still rising on what was just another simple day.
-End Chapter One-
I didn't realize it until now, but it is a very hard thing to plot out an epic' series, especially while writing another series at the same time. I'll do my best not to fail everyone, though!
-For the most part, I plan on following the original Japanese take on the translations. Hence, Olan becomes Orlan, Holy Swordsman becomes Swordmaster (the translators actually switched the kanji around to get the former translation), and Knight Blade becomes Night Blade.
-All ages are based on, or approximated from, the first chapter of the game.
Reviewers!
Hey, Hawk of Death, I'm glad you liked the prologue. I'll probably be calling on your knowledge for the next chapter. :)
Yo, The Burning Misery. Er...I think you mean recreating the Lion War', not the Fifty Year War (that happened before FFT). While there will be a lot of events that I'll be recreating, many of them will stem from different reasons, or have different outcomes.
As for the question of outside contacts...yes and no. You'll see.
