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 Two: Discovery

The late morning sun was soothingly warm against Beowulf's uncovered face as he rode out of the castle, his hair ruffled by the slight breeze despite the fact that it was slicked back. The chocobo Izlude had picked for him was indeed a good one, as the small bag of supplies he had tied around the bird's neck was barely jostled as the monster steadily galloped through the vast green plains that encompassed the area around the castle. It was a calm ride, and the knight quickly lapsed into the thoughts that had been bothering him as of late.

Is there not something more to life?

Everything had come easily to him all his life. Born of noble blood in a good-sized village to the southeast of the castle, his childhood was filled with the comforts and quality of life only enjoyed by those with such a parentage. As his family was fairly devout, it was a foregone conclusion that he would join the local knights under the Church. By the time he was twenty, he was a Holy Knight. When he turned twenty-five, the Church asked him to move to the castle and become a vaunted Temple Knight. At twenty-nine, he was granted the title of one of the holy Pillars of the Glabados Shrine Knights, as he was a man with strong moral courage and noble bearing.

He was thirty-one now, and he wasn't sure what he could do from here.

With his gloved hands upon the reins, he slowed the chocobo to a walk. Looking around, he saw that there weren't any monsters prowling around the area. That was fine with him. Lately he had taken up this sport of his youth, hoping to give his life some meaning, but to no avail. Not for the first time did he think of his friends back home and wondered if they had found that elusive meaning. They had seemed to, from the last he had heard of them.

As Beowulf looked around some more, his eyes caught upon a strange area far off into the distance. Unlike the spring grasses, this place seemed to be of a darker tint, yet it wasn't a forest. Intrigued by this, the Shrine Knight urged the chocobo on, his white cape fluttering behind them as the bird gallantly ran forward. With the avian monster's youth and good health, they soon reached the outskirts of what now appeared to be a small grove flourishing in the middle of nowhere. Beowulf dismounted from the bird and led it forward, amazed by the sight. While the place was too small to be called a forest, it was densely packed with both sturdy and slender trees, their branches bent from the weight of their ripening fruits. Flowers the colors of apricot, lavender and periwinkle grew in abundance along the edges of the grove, making for a picturesque sight indeed.

His eyes seeking more of what lay within this quintessential spring beauty, Beowulf approached the wood, deftly tying the reins to a low branch in order to let the bird feed without the chance that it would become so enamored with its surroundings that it would run off. He pressed on afterward, circling the grove and marveling at how everything within it was apparently growing without a nearby stream. As he did this, he could see that just after the bend there was a small alcove. He walked faster, curious to see what wonders lay inside the heart of this mystical wood. He was not disappointed when he passed the bend, though the alcove was nothing more than that. There was an apparently misplaced stone within it, the same sort that was used to build the castle.

And, to Beowulf, upon that stone was the fairest flower the place had to offer.

The woman lounging there was nothing short of exquisite, possessed of sepia-hued eyes that, even as they widened at the sight of this wandering knight, still seemed seductively dreamy. Long locks of gold poured down over her shoulders, two locks in particular framing her oval face before curving down and over her modest chest. The coloring of her face, neck and arms was fair, in direct contrast with the deep purple shift that cascaded down from her shoulders to her feet, the skirt of the shapeless gown slightly fuller than the rest. Upon her shoulders and falling to her forearms was a lime-green knitted shawl, an odd piece that strangely went well with the twilight dusk of her main piece of clothing. The knight could not tear his eyes away from this vision of loveliness and she, likewise, stared back with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

Finally, she tilted her head slightly and parted her coral-tinted lips, murmuring,

Beowulf blinked as her velveteen voice reached his ears and his cheeks colored, though whether it was because of his own blatant staring or her casual greeting was unknown, even to himself. H-hello...I mean, good morning, milady, he corrected himself, trying to uphold some meager bit of chivalry and lack of familiarity. Then he noticed that this woman was now sitting upright on the stone block and he bowed his head in embarrassment. Forgive me, I seem to be bothering you--Why do you say that? Beowulf raised his head in surprise that she would talk out of turn. For the woman's part, she seemed as if she really wanted an answer to her question, continuing with, Did I say that?

The idea descended upon the man that this might be a mystical creature of some sort, and that it might be in his best interests to keep on her good side, lest she change him into a monster. He had read a lot about such temperamental beings in his youth. No, you did not, milady, just a mere hello'. I only assumed such from the fact that you were lying down before I arrived, and now you are well out of rest, he said lightly, smiling as she hurriedly nodded at his words.

Yes,what you say is true, she replied cheerfully. Then a stray thought seemed to arise, as her demeanor suddenly reverted back to the questioning girl from before. But, why would you assume? Certainly, it is good to form ideas based on the situation, but you were wrong when you said that you were bothering me, she frowned slightly. It seems to me that you could offend those who do not wish for your ideas to be forced upon them.

The more he listened to this strange woman, the more Beowulf was unsure if she was really something to be feared. She seemed to be some extremely curious sprite ignorant of human tendencies, yet still reasonable and logical in her beliefs. Well, that...that is true, but I cannot help my thoughts, and consequently, my words, he answered slowly.

I understand, she smiled, I am the same way. Though, it is a discomforting thing to have my intentions misread, you see.

He smiled back. Well, I can certainly see that.May I ask another question?Of course.Why do you keep calling me Because...I have not heard your name?

The woman laughed at this. I had not realized that! My name is Reis.

Beowulf looked at this pretty and chatty woman and decided to test his hypothesis. May I ask for your family name as well, Lady Reis?Well, certainly, she answered, not understanding the intent of his question, it is Dular. he responded, slightly disappointed at being proven wrong. He rather liked the idea of the legends of bygone days actually being held as true. You must live quite the distance away, considering the emptiness of the fields surrounding this area, he commented. There was no reply from her, and when he glanced at her she seemed to be patiently waiting for him to say something. You have not said your name yet, Sir Knight. He gave her an odd look at this statement.

It is Beowulf, Beowulf Kadmus, he debated on giving her his full title and decided against it. What was the worth of bragging to a woman about it? He didn't assume the title so that he could dishonor himself. But, how did you know that I was a knight?

Reis thought on this question, shifting her body on the stone so that she was sitting more upright. You have an upright posture and adhere strictly to formalities. Your cape is pristine, which it would not be if you were a mere traveler. The way you carry yourself suggests that you are often in armor, so that every move you make out of it is magnified due to your exerting the same shift of weight as though you were still within it, she smiled demurely at his shocked expression. My father was a knight, you see. But, I may be assuming just a bit.

That was when Beowulf figured that this Reis was no mystical creature. Fairies and nymphs were never sarcastic in the legends. ...You are correct, Lady Reis, and quite perceptive, he said after some time had passed.

Would you like to sit down, Sir Beowulf? You seem uncomfortable.No, I...I should leave now... he trailed off when a slightly hurt look formed a shadow over the woman's normally bright features, ...but if you would be so gracious as to want to put up with me for a while, I would be most happy to accept your offer.

Reis smiled happily in response, and something lightened in Beowulf's heart.

-0-

The cool air of the morning had burned off past the noontime hour, the springtime warmth descending upon the land just as the workers all over the country began to heed their stomach's call for nourishment. The various eateries in all the towns and the castle would be swamped with people taking a break, whether they were allowed to or not. Those traveling the countryside would stop and break out whatever meal they had packed beforehand, enjoying it as the slight breeze ruffled their hair and clothes.

I cannot believe you forgot to pack any food, Delita grumbled as he watched his chocobo feed on the wild grasses. Ramza looked at his best friend, irritation blooming pink on his fair skin.

I did not know it was just my fault, the blond sniped back. His own chocobo was happily rooting through the soft earth, satiated by the fresh greens it easily found. The crunching noises of bone beaks snapping through these plants was the only sound as the two young men sat and glowered at each other. It was both of our faults, Ramza finally conceded.

Delita sighed as his stomach rumbled, so audible that the chocobos paused momentarily from their feast to look around questioningly. Falling backwards onto the grass, he looked up into the vast sky. Which is the closer village, Gariland or Dorter? he asked, putting his arms behind his head, his red leather armor squeaking with the movement.

Dorter is just a few hours away from Orbonne. Gariland is too much of a detour, Ramza said after a minute, unless you want to-- the brunet said quickly, smiling. Can you imagine what our sisters would say if they found out the reason why we would be late?

Ramza laughed at this as he flopped backwards, mimicking his friend's comfortable position. Alma would say, Can you two not even take care of yourselves for a few days? You could have starved to death, and then what would become of us? Delita, that is exactly the sort of behavior that makes poor Teta worry so much!'

At hearing his sister's name, Delita winced. Oh, God...your sister could make even a saint feel guilty.She has had a lot of practice at that with us... Ramza shook his head, his smile wistful. I wonder if her stay Orbonne has calmed her down any?I wonder how Teta has taken to it? Delita commented, freeing one of the hands behind his head and ripping out a few blades of grass from beside him. It was quite the surprise to us that she would have been accepted to such a duty.

Turning his body to get a better look at his friend, there was a curious look on Ramza's face. Why do you say that? Teta is capable at magic, is she not?No, that is not what I meant, Delita turned away, not willing to offer an explanation. Such basic tactics of dodging the situation had never worked with Ramza, who persisted with, Then, what do you mean?

There was a blank look upon the brunet's face as he kept his back to his friend. Finally, he sat up, keeping his face turned away while his features were kept perfectly impassive. It is...still strange for Teta and I to live in such a world of splendor, he stated. Just a few years before, we were nothing more than the children of common chocobo keepers. Now Teta is a cleric of the faith, and I'm eligible for service in the Hokuten... Delita stopped and shrugged. Well, it all seems strange, still.

Ramza was not the type who was easily confused by another's words. However, he wasn't quite sure of the point to his best friend's words. Wait...so then, is it a problem?That is not what I said.You...you make it sound as if it were, the blond's dark eyes darkened further when something occurred to him. Are you uncomfortable with the castle?...Well, that is a part of it, Delita said, suddenly looking very uncomfortable with the topic at hand, it is just...things seemed...warmer, I suppose, when your father and mother were still around. Seeing just your brothers, and the other cadets...I am all too aware of my heritage and how I do not fit into the surroundings.

Ramza grew solemn at the mention of his parents. With Father's death, Mother was certainly allowed to feel as if she herself no longer belonged there, he murmured, with her and Alma so far away, even I do not feel as if I belong there anymore.

The friends looked at each other, connected by the underlying sympathy they held for each other as Ramza, the half-blood Beoulve who was not expected to amount to much, and Delita, the misplaced peasant who had been taken in under the late Balbanes Beoulve's wing. After this, Delita said, his tone friendly and warm once again, we should take a journey, you and I. Travel around Ivalice, visiting the villages and meeting the people. Maybe then we could find a place where we do not fit so oddly.

Ramza smiled at this suggestion, sitting up in his excitement to say, We should definitely tell Mustadio this the next time he comes around to the castle. He would know the best way to travel Ivalice, considering how often he does it.

Delita nodded at this, noticing for the first time that he held blades of grass in his gloved hands. He held out one hand to Ramza, cheerfully asking, Do you remember when your father showed us how to play the reed flute?

With a smile and without a word, Ramza took some of the blades and put them to his lips, the high and buzzing noises emitted from the instrument' startling the chocobos and causing them to flap their small wings in surprise. The two laughed at the spectacle they caused, finally standing to calm down the birds before mounting them and continuing their journey.

Somehow, their hunger had fled away a while ago.

-0-

There are old buildings, the sort with a pedigree and a look that is not of the place where they inhabit, usually attempting a grander scheme than the area would like. The grand castle was one such place that belonged to this category, for it was the legacy of those immigrants who were proud to name the country and themselves as being of Ivalice. Then there were the truly old buildings, those places that were the land they stood on, and the very air around them whispered of the land's magic, of the grace of the fairies from before time was invented as they streaked through the rooms and entwining halls with wings that glittered with glamour, of the power of the ancient dragons as they gathered and spoke of concepts that could never be even glimpsed at by the human mind lest it be crushed by the weight of true knowledge. These were the buildings angels had descended to from their drifting clouds, for only such a place could bear the light and limitless beauty and still stand proudly afterward.

Orbonne Monastery was one such place.

It had existed at the coast of Ivalice's southern shore far before the immigrants had discovered the land, all worn gray stone and countless secrets even then. It was a holy place, Ajora Glabados had announced to the various and sundry holy men that accompanied him, and they agreed with him for it would be nothing short of foolish to disagree with such a truth. That good man had christened this dwelling of stone and magic La maison sacrée qui retient les secrets de Dieu , Monastère Orbonne, or The sacred dwelling that holds God's secrets, Orbonne Monastery', for in a dream Ajora had been told by God that Orbonne' was the ancient and powerful word bestowed upon the place. Indeed, the monastery held many secrets, the most well-known one being how it was able to repel those it did not feel were worthy to step past its creaking outer doors. This was how the Glabados faith tested those members who wished to learn clerical magic, and those that could step into the blessed abbey were surely deserving to behold its other secrets.

Even with such a wondrous legacy, Alma Beoulve couldn't wait until she was beyond Orbonne's cold walls once again. On that point, the same was true with Teta Hyral.

Now that the weather was fair, they had taken to partaking of their studies outside, often setting themselves upon the higher stones of what was once a foreboding wall that surrounded the monastery. Under the blue skies they would share the knowledge within the dusty scriptures they took out of the bookrooms, scriptures that had never before seen the light of the sun. Simon Pen Rakshu, a bishop of the Glabados faith who had been charged with tending to the place decades ago, had allowed the girls the opportunity to do so whenever they wished, knowing that nothing was a better cure for the doldrums than fresh air.

Teta, when do you think the Hokuten regiment will come for us? Alma asked while staring longingly to the north. If she squinted and tried really hard for it, she could just barely see the tops of the turrets of the castle. Adjusting the book on her lap, her fingers soon moved up to adjust the sweater she usually tied along her shoulders, or her fine, flaxen hair set behind her in a tail. She was a lively girl, bright and cheerful like the morning sun, and she held great promise in the arts of white magic.

Well, it is hard to say for sure...there is still the danger of the lurking Death Knights... Teta murmured in her sweet, low voice. This was similarly the type of person she was, a mild, sedated sort of girl who kept her own counsel. She was to the moon as Alma was to the sun, reflecting the other girl's cheerful quality while never quite exhibiting her own, and for that the two girls were nearly inseparable. Otherwise, the darker girl would be more prone to solemnity; even now, as she watched Alma stare off into the distance, her own exquisite features were drawn in a subtle sadness.

That is true, Alma sighed loudly. Brother Zalbag must have had trouble trying to completely eliminate them with the sort of winter that had fallen upon us.

Merely blinking at the straightforward words as she was used to them by now, Teta smoothed out the skirt of her lavender dress as she considered her next words. I wonder how our brothers are doing, she commented, trying to bring a perk into her voice like Alma had taught her to, they would nearly be knights by now.

A wicked grin spread across the younger girl's face. Delita, I would believe. Ramza is a more difficult case.What a thing to say! Teta exclaimed, surprised at her friend's comment. The blonde was usually her brother's truest supporter. Your own brother!

Alma giggled at the shock expressed by her best friend. Ramza is like me, in that he has a talent at magic. However, with the sword, even I could give him a fair fight.I saw you wielding the lady knight's sword, the elder girl said in an accusing tone, Ramza would never look as if he were about to cut off his own arm.

The blonde's eyes widened in playful indignation, as she cried out, It was my first time! If only I had beseeched Brother Dycedarg into letting me train as a cadet, we would not be having this sort of conversation at all.If such a thing had come true, we would not be conversing at all, Teta said softly.

Sensing a sudden change in the mood, Alma reached over and held Teta's hands in-between her own, inwardly surprised at their coolness even with the warm weather. It is only in jest, Teta, the blonde smiled comfortingly, I would not abandon a friend, let alone my very best friend.

The brunette looked away, a small smile gracing her lovely face. Your words are always so kind, she squeezed her friend's hands, I am sorry that I seem to always bring clouds over any conversation--

Alma shook her head at this. It is only because you are missing Delita as much as I am missing my own brothers that you are so susceptible to melancholy.

Something darkened within Teta's chestnut-colored eyes, yet she nodded at her friend's words. You are right, it will pass when I see my brother again, she echoed.

Are we interrupting something?

Alma and Teta turned, the former's face as alight in joy as the latter's was hesitant. Princess Ovelia, please come sit with us! And you as well, Lady Agrias!

Ovelia Atkascha smiled and nodded at this invitation, her golden hair fluttering behind her as she moved to sit with the other girls. She was as pure a beauty as Teta was exotic, her clear blue eyes gentle and her skin lacking the effect of the sun's kiss. She walked with dignity up to the wall, setting herself upon one of the lower stones after a quick glance at her bodyguard, the indomitable Agrias Oaks. The woman made sure that she was always a few steps within reach of her charge, her solid boots and practical uniform of the Royal Holy Knights setting her apart from the younger, more casually-dressed girls. She stood next to the princess, dark brown eyes surveying the area with a hawk-like efficiency, her right hand never straying far from the silver hilt of her sword.

So then Alma, Teta, how are you today? Ovelia asked. Though they all lived in the monastery, Ovelia often had a different schedule from the others. Her guardian, Lord Larg, had placed her here after her half-brother, King Omdolia, had died of illness years before. Due to her longer stay, she was a higher rank of cleric than the other two, despite the few months' age difference scattered between them.

We are well, Princess, Alma quickly chirped, knowing that Teta was very shy in the presence of royalty, and how are you?

Ovelia blinked in dismay. Please, at times like this, I prefer to be simply called she glanced up at Agrias, who was keeping half an ear in the conversation, is this alright with you, Agrias?Princess, whatever you wish to be called by your friends is fine with me, the woman said in the professional tone she was known for. Ovelia grinned at this answer before turning back to her friends.

She says this, and yet after a year she still refuses to call me by my given name, the girls giggled at this while the lady knight tried her best not to roll her eyes. The routine was a sort of running joke, but Agrias had never liked being the aim of any jest.

Alma glanced out into the distance once more, holding back a sigh. If only someone would come and take us away from this dreary place, she said, her fingers playing with the edges of the book on her lap.

With a nod, Ovelia looked down, plucking an imaginary wrinkle out of her pristine white gown. The royal knights should be here soon, for my tenure here is over, but it has been such a long time since I have last seen home...I wonder what has changed of the place?Nothing much, I am sure of it, Agrias commented, the castle is steadfast in its traditions. For instance, there is a festival in the coming month for the summer equinox.That is true, is it not? It will be like a homecoming party...ah, how I miss it! Alma exclaimed, giving the direction of the castle an even more longing look.

Ovelia was more calm about this, her eyes reflecting some of the sadness in her heart. Well, it certainly sounds wonderful. I am sure it will be a fun affair.

Alma, used to these sort of hesitant answers from Teta, smiled cheerfully at the princess. It is like what I told Teta. Staying here for too long saps one's energy. Once you get past Orbonne's walls, you will instantly feel nothing but excitement at the idea of coming home!

Doubtfully, Ovelia looked to Teta, but the older girl was too busy looking out into the distance with a pensive expression. She could understand the feelings behind such a sad face, despite Alma's continued optimism. I believe you, Alma, she said carefully, unwilling to contradict the younger girl's cheerful words, it is just that, having not been past these walls in years, I am worried by what lies beyond them.

-0-

In a small glen near Orbonne Monastery, two people sat on the slender branches of trees, the green of their uniforms helping to camouflage them from Agrias' careful watch. Though the lady knight could not see them, they could certainly see her and her charge.

So, that is the princess. She's pretty, isn't she?They will be here soon.Zalbag's knights, or the royal escort?Whoever it is, they will not be expecting an ambush, I am sure of it.Hmph. Poor them.

-End to Chapter Two-

I'm starting something of a contest, a very informal one. All I want is a name for Izlude's moogle, and it must fill these criteria:

-A feminine name (not just a female name, but feminine-sounding as well);
-Something that sounds bright and cheerful;
-I don't necessarily care about the culture behind the name, but I would prefer one with European descent so that it fits with the style of the story.

It's not that important, though I'd like to have the choice finalized before the next chapter, which comes out 10/26.

-Damn formatting. The floating' comma in the middle of the French part of the Orbonne quote is not a mistake, for if it weren't there, the text becomes chopped'.

Reviewers!

Yo, Hawk of Death. I'm happy that you're happy. :) Hm...I probably shouldn't say this, but it seems that many FFT ficcers prefer to only write about Ramza, an eligible girl for Ramza (so then we mostly get Agrias and rarely Meliadoul) and during/after the game' stories. Well, it's like that in all sizable fandoms, but...am I being too critical?
Anyway, Zalbag rules.
Ramza and Meliadoul are your favorite characters? Cool. Melly is awesome, and Ramza's one of the better heroes (if not one of the best FFT ones). Who else do you like?
Thanks for your efforts with the translations, you're really lucky to be bilingual.
Keep Kletian away from Meliadoul...? Heh, I'll try.

Woo, The Burning Misery's long-long reviews! Honestly, I love em. Speaking of reviews, while it's always nice to have lots of reviews, I definitely prefer quality over quantity, so I'm very happy as is. To put it another way, WHW was a lot worse with feedback in the beginning, but it is to date my most favorite effort.
Who does like Dycedarg, seriously? But, I'm sorry to say, he's needed for the plot.
I like the pillar' ranking idea too. Somewhere in the game, it mentions the Beoulve family as the pillars of knighthood', which somehow turned into the titles of the top Shrine Knights that I have here.
I'm really happy that there are people who like AUs (though, in your case I could tell how much you liked them as soon as I looked at your Favorite Stories...you have a lot of them, by the way). I do too, though I'm not really fond of fantasies. But, if the shoe fits...
Although I'm being a hypocrite in saying this, you probably shouldn't write out two chaptered stories at the same time, especially if you're not used to the process and effort and such. Well, I wish you good luck in it, especially since it gets so much easier the more you work at it.

Luna! Yo. Actually, aren't you writing a fantasy AU story...well, it has an awesome title, I remember that much, but it's for a fandom I don't know anything about. Tennis no Oujisama? Well, anyway, I'm really glad you like this story so far. The style is...it's strange and slightly overbearing to me, but it feels pretty and I like it.
Character interactions is an easier thing to do than properly pacing the plot.
Keep up with the stories if you really like them, but don't do it just for my sake, okay?