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 Seven: Men of Morals

The breeze was crisp despite the afternoon hour, a snap of cold that served to wake men dozing off while in the midst of tilling the fields. The touch of the wind upon exposed skin was enough to pucker up the flesh, a chilliness worthy of the ancient ice spirit, she who was carved out of frost and magic with a seductive coldness that made the skin ache in more than one way. That was the kind of cold the aimless breeze held, piercing yet altogether invigorating.

However, Beowulf did not need the wind to exhale life into his body; a visit with the fair maiden of the grove was more than enough for him.

He was returning to the castle now, his thoughts lightened by the time he had with Reis. They'd eaten together, sharing skins bulging with water that he'd brought and red apples that were growing in the northeastern part of the grove. Next time he planned to bring one of his favorite treats, just for variety. The conversation was enjoyable, as it always was. He hadn't felt compelled to break the lulls of silence that occasionally occurred, so comfortable as he was in her presence now. He was not close to many people, and so he valued what he shared with the young woman.

Yet, he felt a lingering sense of guilt over it as well.

It was an unwritten rule as a knight that he would not indulge in certain indiscretions. It was his job description as the Pillar of Morality that he would be the example of all that was good and worthy about a knight, including a strict adherence to each and every rule that governed a knight's behavior. Morals, that monochromatic beast that mankind had set free among themselves, was something he had never questioned the righteousness of. He was not going to now, of course; he and the Lady Reis were just friends.

And she had quite beautiful skin.

He sighed as he approached Murond's stables. He was certainly the upright pillar of morality, sneaking out of the castle on the pretext that he would roam the fields for game when instead he would meet with Reis at the grove. But he swore that this was as far as he was going to go; he was absolutely not, in any way, going to cross the line from 'slightly questionable but still justifiable' to 'plainly dishonorable'. But that was not going to stop him from visiting that fair maiden, not at all.

There never were a lot of people at any of the three halls' stables, particularly in Murond's case. This was due to the fact that most of the clergy had ended up renouncing their homes in order to come here; while being a member of the cloth was a right and good thing in the eyes of the believers, it was far less so in the eyes of the parents who had borne children in order to continue on the family line. There were also cases of abandonment for poor families who could not feed yet another hungry mouth; such children were taken in by the parish and subsequently set to Murond in order to learn the arts of the clergy or the knight. For all of the castle's grandeur, it housed more commoners than several large towns put together.

Rofel Wodring was one of these commoners. He was also present in the stables as Beowulf entered, chocobo in tow. "How was the hunt...hm, what could you possibly hunt without a crossbow?" Rofel asked. Inwardly, Beowulf sighed again. Nothing went unnoticed by the Pillar of Knowledge.

"I was hunting the elusive beauty of life," was the younger knight's reply as he guided the chocobo into its hold. To his own ears, the answer didn't sound half as silly as he had intended it to be.

"Ah, truly the most majestic hunt of all. Our young Holy Knight of the Hokuten was looking for you."

Somehow, that didn't surprise Beowulf. "It seems that he is not the only one." After removing the reins from the gentle bird, he closed the pen and smiled crookedly at the older man. "What can I do for you, Rofel?"

Rofel had kind eyes, although sometimes a cruel intelligence flickered in the dark color. Now, though, there was something dulling them. "Well, it seems that the Hokuten have done something worthy of mention. Zalbag himself apprehended the leaders of the Death Knights."

Beowulf raised an eyebrow at this, though his face otherwise held the look of neutrality. "That does sound praiseworthy."

"It only gets better from there. Apparently these two leaders were marching alongside both the younger Beoulve siblings, as well as their family's wards, and certain individuals from Orbonne Monastery. You may hear the rumor that one of them was Princess Ovelia herself."

"Of course, rumors often have an element of the truth."

"Naturally. Another rumor is that the captured Death Knights will be facing execution in a few days, if not tomorrow."

"That is...interesting," the Temple Knight murmured, crimson eyes narrowed. "Without even a trial of any sort?"

The other man only shook his head.

"That does not sound fair in the least. I understand Zalbag's craving for justice, but this method is almost as bad as those crimes those Death Knights have committed. What do you think, Rofel?"

"I think the same as yourself. However, that man will not listen to such an argument at this point. He was quite worried for the safety of his siblings, after all." There was a strange twinkle in Rofel's eyes as he continued with, "He thinks too much with his heart and not enough with morality, do you not think?"

Beowulf turned away, heading towards the door that led to Murond itself. When he touched the doorknob he turned slightly, his profile distinct with the gathering shadows hanging at the entrance. "I think the same as yourself."

He entered Murond, his cape fluttering behind him like the banner belonging to an invading force.

-0-

"How could you be so reckless?"

Agrias Oaks nearly winced at the question as it was thrown at her with all the force a reprimand should carry, but her training as a knight kept that reaction in check. During her journey to the castle she had often carried thoughts of a similar vein, though they had not been coated with the same seething anger as they were now.

As a knight and the princess' bodyguard, she had vowed on her honor and good name to follow the princess' every word, but she had often privately wondered if the day would come that she would have to disobey an order on the reason that it did not serve the princess' best interests. Thankfully, the princess did not usually like to give orders, saving Agrias from having to act on this dilemma. Taking the princess back to the castle was one thing; they both knew that she could not impose on Bishop Simon's kindness even further; there were always new acolytes who needed the education only the monastery could provide. She had to return. Agrias could understand this. However, letting the Death Knights into their party was an order the lady knight had very nearly argued. But she hadn't, and now she could only wonder why. There was more than the princess' life at stake.

There was also the matter of Agrias' own knighthood.

"Well then, Lady Oaks? What would compel you to contemplate, not to talk of actually allowing the leaders of the Death Knights to travel with you? For your foolishness you risked not your own life, but the lives of those traveling with you." Zalbag Beoulve glared at her from across his desk, where she stood rock still. He hadn't offered her a seat.

She had unwittingly traveled with Wiegraf and Miluda Folles, the sibling leaders of the Death Knights. Agrias couldn't believe that, out of all the people 'Cadmus' and 'Lenneth' could've been, they were actually masking those infamous identities. She had only sensed a bit of it from the man, only because of how crisp and flawless his moves were in combat. If he had used one of the Holy Sword skills she would've known, as everyone knew that the leader of the Death Knights was a member of the rarest of elite knights, the White Knights. If she had seen that, she would've known. Perhaps that was why Wiegraf played the part of a deserting Death Knight; there was some sympathy to be had for the wayward.

Now she understood Miluda's words. In the days when the Folles siblings were commander and subcommander respectively of the Lionel Holy Knights, Miluda had acquired the unflattering nickname of Lionel's 'Bloody Valkyrie'. Agrias hadn't realized it until she had entered the castle walls, and since then she had been replaying the journey in her mind, picking out every clue, every hint with the fervor of one possessed.

"You are truly blessed, Lady Oaks," he enunciated her title of nobility, not once in the meeting referring to her as a knight of any sort, "that I have no command over the affairs of Lesalia's Royal Guard. If I had, I would have stripped your title of elite knighthood and cast you back to the novice league for your gross negligence and unforgivable lack of basic common sense! As it stands, I will send a formal reprimand to the captain of the Guard--"

"--Sir Beoulve," she interrupted, the first time she had spoken since she had been ordered to appear before the Arc Knight. Zalbag's face darkened at the interjection, but the rules of chivarly forced him to yield to a woman, and with that in mind he gestured for her to continue. "Forgive my impudence, but I was following the order given to me by the princess."

Suddenly, Zalbag's face went blank. She could see the struggle in his eyes though, his righteous fury at battle with the duty all knights were expected to bear, the honor of following their liege to death. His lips thinned. "Get out."

"S-sir?" Despite all his yelling, he had still been icily polite to her. This was markedly different, and she hoped that it was the signal of change.

"Do you not know how to follow orders when they come from a knight?" He leaned over his desk, his hands planted on the top of the desk. "I can understand one's duty to their liege. However, you risked the lives of my family in order to achieve the ends of the princess, and that is unforgivable. Please leave, Lady Oaks."

She did so, stiffly and with her hands clenched at her sides. Nearly trembling in humiliation, she passed by the Beoulve and Hyral siblings, all four of them near the door to the Hokuten commander's office. Ignoring their looks of curiosity, she marched up to the turret that housed the Larg family, which now included Duke Larg's ward.

Agrias vowed not to tell the princess of this. It would only worry the girl. And, with the way the woman felt right now, she knew she could not be trusted in speaking of this without hurting her princess.

She wondered if the royalty could ever be hurt as much as their retainers.

-0-

Ramza Beoulve watched Agrias Oaks go, confusion settling in his heart. Was it just him, or did the Holy Knight look rather pained? Why, when she had just left Zalbag's office? "That is...a bit strange."

Delita Hyral had a different insight on what they had just seen. "No, I do not think so. It is expected, truth be told."

"I do not get it," Alma stated, frowning as she kept her eyes down the path the Holy Knight had disappeared to. "I would think that she had gotten praised for leading us back to the castle."

Delita turned a shrewd eye upon the blonde. "Even while walking alongside the Death Knights?"

The group quieted at this. The Death Knights that they had traveled with were the topic of the rumors that were spreading around the castle. However, the rumor wasn't with their identity. Everyone knew that already. They were Wiegraf and Miluda Folles, Lionel village's corrupted knights. Today's capture would surely embarrass the Order of Glabados; Murond had not done a single thing against the two, even though it was widely rumored at one time that they would strip Wiegraf of his White Knight title. The Pillars hadn't even remarked on why they were content with letting the elder Folles keep his elite knighthood after the attack on Limberry village.

To most cadets and clerics it was an issue of little importance, but since they had traveled with that infamous duo...

Teta shook her head, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders. "They did not seem like bad people," she said softly. Alma, next to the elder girl, nodded vigorously.

"Yes, exactly! Lenn...Miluda was a bit frightening at first, but it was mostly that mask that did it, really." Alma turned to her brother, her eyes pleading at him to agree with her. "And Ramza, what did you think of that man, Sir Folles? I mean, since you and Delita often had to hunt with him."

"Well," Ramza started slowly, "he was a quiet man, yet he was helpful to us when we needed it. Remember, Delita," he turned to the brunet and continued with, "that one time, when we were chasing down that porky? He did not lecture us for losing it, like my brothers would have done, but rather--"

"He gave us tips on how we could improve our sword swings, so that we could easily subdue a small beast like that one," Delita finished. "I understand how you feel, but do you think that Zalbag would listen to our pleas?"

Alma pouted at this. "Delita, stop being so realistic! I rather like the idea that we could do something important. Brother Zalbag is sometimes zealous, but he has a good heart and righteous morals, so he would at least listen to us..." She frowned as she noticed Delita's skeptical expression. "Stop that!"

A small chuckle escaped from Delita, and he mockingly bowed to his friend's sister. "As you wish, Lady Alma."

"Delita Hyral, you are incorrigible!"

Ramza laughed and Teta offered a small smile at the antics of their siblings. For some reason, Delita and Alma got along in the same manner little children did, talking happily one minute and mercilessly teasing each other the next. "Well, we are here at any rate," Ramza interrupted, easily drawing everyone's attention with the pleasant tone of his voice, "although I do not think that Zalbag would be so easily swayed by our opinion, we are allowed to find out their fate. And afterwards, we can have dinner and celebrate Teta's birthday. Right?"

Teta nodded shyly. "Thank you, Ramza."

They walked the few short feet to Zalbag's office. By mutual consensus it had been decided that Alma would knock on the door, an imposing wooden creation surrounded by the stone that had created the castle. She did so, adding a, "Brother, may we talk to you, or are you too busy to see us?" to soften him up. Being the only girl child of the Beoulve siblings, she had found from an early age that a little charm and guilt tripping went a long way in getting what she wanted.

A few minutes passed without response. He has finally done it, Ramza thought, Zalbag has finally killed himself with his work. The door swung open after another moment, the Arc Knight's face showing more of his daily stresses than usual. "I am sorry," he said in a formal tone, his eyes softening as he gazed at the group gathered in front of his office. "What can I do for you?"

"Brother," Alma whispered, her tone pensive, "what are you going to do about the...people we traveled with?"

"The Death Knights, you mean?" There was a harsh timbre running through Zalbag's usually moderate voice. "They will be executed for their crimes against Ivalice, naturally."

The four teenagers had various looks of surprise on their faces; even Delita, who had predicted such a response, seemed disapproving. Beside him, Teta said nothing, looking down at her shoes and hiding her face, a tactic she employed when she felt strongly about something but wished to not offend anyone with her thoughts. Ramza and Alma had twin disturbed expressions on their faces. "It seems so soon, brother," Ramza finally offered, inwardly wincing when his elder brother shot a piercing glare at him.

"It is only justice," Zalbag said. "They were the ones who started the Death Knights, willfully opposing the order the castle brings upon the country. It was because of them that we knew fear after we had enjoyed peace for decades. They invaded Limberry and tore through the villagers--the very same people they claimed to defend!" His gaze swept over the children who stood before him, his expression darkening. "It is none of your concern. Obviously, you are all still too young to understand the importance of there is to mete out punishment to those who deserve it. That is what keeps all of us safe, after all."

The commander's last two sentences hurt the cadets especially, wounding them with their age and inexperience. Teta was now closely examining her shoes in an effort to distance herself from the harsh words. Strangely enough, Alma was unmoved; due to her straightforward nature, lectures tended not to have an effect on her. "But Zalbag," she argued in an impassioned way, "they said that they had information. Surely you would listen to them for that--"

"Enough," he said, an edge to his tone that made the youngest Beoulve wince as if she'd been cut. The Arc Knight did not take lightly to insubordination, whether it came from his troops or his family. Outwardly, he tended to treat them the same. "I have work to do, and I am sure you have other things to do now that you have returned."

"Oh, of course. My 'Lord Brother' always has more important things than his own family," Alma sniped back, though it was without her usual fire. Ramza almost interceded at this point; some of the greatest family arguments began with an off-the-cuff remark from the youngest Beoulve. Happily enough for him, Zalbag looked too weary to take the bait.

"Good, run along now and be a good child," Zalbag drawled before returning to his office, closing the door behind him. Completely forgetting her good upbringing, Alma angrily stamped her foot down, her hands clenched at her sides.

"Well, that was a remarkable showing," Delita muttered, crossing his arms and sending a look of disbelief at the youngest of the group. "Alma, I do not think that will get you anywhere."

Ramza shook his head. "It is too bad." He glanced at Teta, who was doing a fine job of looking lost and alone among a group of people, and tried to smile for her sake. "Teta, you should see the present I got you. I believe you will like it more than Delita's gift."

"Excuse me?" Delita asked, a small smile creeping up the corners of his lips despite himself. "Teta, you will definitely like my present more."

Teta smiled, especially once Alma got into the fray. It was a good portent to see a smile on her normally solemn face, but as they walked away Ramza could not help but feel disturbed by the recent events. Zalbag knew what he was doing, Ramza believed. At the same time, the young cadet couldn't help but feel, deep in his heart of hearts, that his capable elder brother was wrong.

But if Zalbag was wrong and the Death Knights were right, what was the fate that would befall Ivalice once the executioner's ax fell?

-0-

Below the structure of the castle existed a great network of tunnels that twined and intersected each other while leading to all sorts of odd places in each of the three halls; the exception was the marketplace, which was based in the main entrance of the castle, directly underneath the royal quarters. Not one person in the castle knew exactly where each tunnel led, and there were secrets that had been untouched since the day the castle had been blessed for the final time. What was known was that each hall had its own private dungeon somewhere within the sprawl, and that once a person entered one of these dungeons it was a blessing if they were allowed to die within a day. They were places of absolute filth and decay, where tortures could be performed without the screams of the prisoner rising beyond the ground and disturbing those that slept in the castle proper. Light from magic fire fixtures flickered lazily within the darkness, dying just as slowly as those cast away in this den of the unforgiven.

It was dark. That was all Wiegraf Folles knew.

This was because of the scratchy sack the Hokuten had tied over his head, closing it off with a thick length of rope hastily tied around his neck. It was tight, and if it weren't for the porous nature of the bag he knew that he would've been dead before he ever reached the executioner. From his youth, he knew that the bag was the kind used to hold potatoes for shipping. The thought made him hungry, but he he knew that food was a luxury unknown to those who languished here. His arms were tied behind his back with the same sort of rope that threatened to close his windpipe. It was one arm's wrist to the elbow of the other, bound together so tightly that there was a constant ache in the upper joints of his arms. Even his hands were bound through the use of a thinner cord that yanked his fingers up and aligned to his upper arms. It was cutting into the joints of his fingers, and he knew that moving his fingers would cost in blood. His legs were bound too, done with three sets of rope tied around his thighs, just below his knees and his ankles.

This was the way all prisoners of the castle were treated, helplessly bound and awaiting their turn before the ax.

He knew that his sister shared the same cell in the chilly dungeon; he had heard the thump her body had made when they threw her in. The sound of her breathing was apparent, and that comforted him. It was his fault she had come with him here, but he had still allowed her to follow him even though he knew that this hellhole was their likeliest destination. But he had to come here, regardless of his fate.

At least he had tried.

Miluda was coming around now, something he could easily tell by the sound of metal banging against the cool stone. The Hokuten apparently hadn't bothered to remove her gauntlets and greaves and God knows what else she was wearing underneath her dress. He was thankful for this, that the Hokuten were still decent enough not to inappropriately touch his little sister. Mission or not, that would've been unforgivable.

"Ah...nn...dammit..." He sighed inwardly as the sounds she was making filtered through the sack and entered his ears. Of course the first coherent word out of her mouth would be a curse. "M'head...Wie..."

He lowered his head, careful to make sure that the rope around his neck didn't cut off his oxygen. "Miluda, I'm here." The words were said hoarsely. He wanted water, and knew that the likeliness that such a boon would be granted to him before their execution was nonexistent. He knew someone who had worked in the castle's dungeon; a sad job, to be sure, but there was money in it, especially during an insurrection. He wondered how much the current jailer was going to receive for holding Ivalice's corrupted White Knight, the first in the country's existence.

"M'head's...ringin'...can't focus..." Miluda muttered, her words slurred. Wiegraf was momentarily worried that she'd been hit even harder than he'd imagined, but his practical side knew that it didn't matter compared to their fate. "This...gaol?"

"Yes. I suspect we're inside the castle's dungeon, beneath the surface."

"Nn. Arms, this bag...execution-style?"

"Yes. I've heard that Zalbag has an aversion to torture." He took in as deep a breath as he could manage, then continued. "We'll probably be killed tomorrow."

"No!" Her shout echoed along the walls, filling the room--whatever the size--with her protest. "I can't! Sally...we still need to avenge Sally!" She broke down then, coughing brutally and trying her hardest to gasp between each fit.

"They won't listen to us," he explained patiently, "the Hokuten will never listen to us. If we had gotten into Murond like we planned, then this wouldn't have happened. As it is, there's not much hope for us."

"Comforting, brother," she spat venomously. "Given up? You? I won't, no matter what you say!"

This time he did sigh loudly. If he was going to die in mere hours from now, he was not going to spend his remaining time arguing with his only family. "I know. I'm just being realistic. If we're able to get out, I promise we'll avenge her as well as the others."

"That's what you said before, when we saved that princess."

"And I meant it. Salia was my friend too."

Silence reigned over the two, their conversation having a strain on their ability to breathe. Wiegraf tried to sit back in a certain way, leaning back so that his weight rested on his shoulders in an effort to alleviate the pain that was radiating from his arms. This was a futile effort, and he briefly entertained lying on the ground before tossing away that plan. It would've been hard to get back into a sitting position with his arms and legs bound.

He had known things could go this horribly wrong, and yet he had gone ahead. Unlike his sister, however, he was not motivated by revenge. He had just wanted to right a wrong.

There was an ominous clanking sound in the distance. He wondered if it was already time for their executions, even though he had calculated that they had been bound down here for only over a few hours. Perhaps Zalbag had wanted them to be killed without even being made an example of; an evening execution would spoil the appetites of the ladies, after all. Uncharacteristically, he was feeling more than a little bitter over being denied an audience to die in front of. At least then he would've been able to divulge the secret burning within him, and maybe someone would bother to act on it.

And if not, let them all die. Except for a select few, he had no love for nobles.

The clanking noise was getting louder, and it was accompanied by the heavy steps of someone who detested physical labor. The clanking and the ponderous footsteps stopped somewhere in the area, and Wiegraf noted the new sound of a key being placed in a keyhole. Squeaky hinges protested with a hideous screech, and the footsteps became louder. Due to his finely honed senses, Wiegraf could feel the presence of someone in his vicinity, made all the more apparently when a pair of hands began to roughly handle the ropes that bound his legs together. These were undone in a prompt manner, and the hands moved to rip off the ropes and cord around his arms and hands next. There was the matter of the sack over his head, but the hands ignored this in favor of yanking him up on his feet.

"Follow me." Wiegraf noted that the voice belonged to an older man who, oddly enough, sounded almost bored. Dutifully, the knight followed on stiff legs where the man pulled him to. "Stand here and I'll get to work on your sis. Don't bother touching the bag."

Mercifully, Miluda was not in the mood to fight with the man, and soon she was led out and made to stand by her brother. It was there when the man undid the ropes that held the sacks closed over their heads. It was an unsettling experience for Wiegraf; even though the dungeon was dark, there were balls of magic fire encapsulated within glass hung throughout the hall they were in, the mediocre light enough to bother his sensitive eyes.

"Well, your freedom's just down that passageway," the man, who was everything Wiegraf had predicted and then some, said while pointing down a crooked hallway to his right. "And," the man lowered his voice to a conspiratorial murmur, "you two are a disappointment. I thought you were gonna give the nobility their what-for, and instead you accost your own people?"

"I apologize," Wiegraf said crisply before stalking down the path shown to them. Miluda followed, looking forward in a very deliberate manner.

"That's just what Zalbag had said, wasn't it? About Limberry?" she questioned once they had gotten a safe distance away from the jailer.

"Hm. It'll always be 'our fault', don't you think?"

"I suppose in a way it really was. But this is suspicious, don't you think?"

"Being let out in such a prompt manner? I agree."

"Perhaps Zalbag means to frame us for another sort of crime? Or perhaps someone else's plot?"

"I hardly consider it a 'plot'," a third voice piped up, and both siblings rounded the next corner in a hurry once they recognized this new voice.

"Beowulf!" Miluda exclaimed, rushing to the other man's side. Wiegraf couldn't resist smiling, though he hung back and studied the man before him. A close childhood friend of the Folles siblings, nevertheless neither of them had seen Beowulf in the golden Shrine Knight armor, complete with the detailed white surcoat that marked him as the Pillar of Morality and one of four leaders of Murond's military faction.

"I would have been here sooner, if not for the fact that it is very hard to put this armor together. Also, apparently executions do not need to be performed with a sense of morality, however much I disagree with that notion," Beowulf explained before glancing at Miluda's face. He frowned. "Miluda, that is quite the bruise..." He reached down and lightly touched her left temple, a burst of luminescence exploding from his fingertips and nearly blinding Wiegraf in the process.

"Well, you really didn't have to worry. I mean, a bruise is such a small thing to a knight," Miluda protested, though her face expressed the immense relief she felt at his healing touch that her pride wouldn't allow. Beowulf nodded obligingly, turning to Wiegraf for an explanation.

"Miluda decided that it would be a smart idea to pull a sword on Zalbag."

The lady knight smiled wistfully, though the meaning was obscured by the shadows that had settled over most of her face. "I wasn't thinking, he means to say. I couldn't help it, it was just how that spoiled little noble couldn't even be bothered to listen to us before condemning us to death."

Beowulf nodded. "Speaking of which, we should keep walking. It would not do us any good to be caught here by a Hokuten." They began walking at a steady clip, the siblings a half-step behind their friend. After a bit Beowulf couldn't resist asking, "Why did you come here, anyway? As much as I would like to say that you are both welcome here...well, I dislike lying."

"We have some information that we would like to pass onto someone of authority," Wiegraf answered, hesitating by a breath before continuing, "It would be preferable if we could talk to Zalbag, seeing how the Hokuten seem so willing to persecute the Death Knights."

"In all honesty, you are not liked by the Nanten either, after Limberry," Beowulf quietly informed him. "Limberry is technically a province of Zeltennia, after all. But you are right, the Hokuten are the ones pursuing the Death Knights. Sir Zalbag has even been so bold as to confront me, considering the past we three share."

Miluda shook her head at this. "He's like a mad cuar, frothing at the mouth at anyone who crosses his path. Do you really think he'll listen to us, Wiegraf?"

"It has to be done," was his curt reply. Beowulf threw a side glance at him before returning his attention to the path ahead.

"You both must be hungry. Murond is the safest place for you, and I suspect that Rofel would like to talk to you before the night is over. In the morning I will try to convince Sir Zalbag to meet with you on equal terms." He looked at his friends and smiled. It was a comforting gesture to Wiegraf, who knew that the older man was a poor liar.

"You don't even want to know...?" Miluda asked, looking somewhat perplexed.

"You can tell me, if you like." There was a door ahead, and Beowulf tugged it open. "Welcome to Murond hall," he said, bowing extravagantly. Miluda laughed, the first time Wiegraf had heard it since their long journey months before. He took it as an good omen; perhaps things would become more auspicious now.

"Thank you," Wiegraf told Beowulf after Miluda had walked past them, into Murond proper. "I wasn't hopeful."

"You, the eternal idealist?" Beowulf clasped the other man's shoulder. "You have saved me many times before, back home. It is the least I can do now."

Wiegraf agreed with the sentiment. It was similar to the thought that had brought him to Orbonne, and now to the castle.

It was the least he could do now.

It was the only thing he could now.

-End to Chapter Seven-

I have summaries up to the eleventh chapter, and I've decided to go ahead and make this a weekly serial despite not having the full summaries completed. I don't want to drag this series out as a biweekly much longer, or else I'll be writing this story into the next year.

-Egg on my face: I screwed up with Orlandu's job class translation by believing someone else's word. After I got the idea recently to check the kanji, I realized that 'Holy Swordsman' wouldn't be completely off because Orlandu's 'kensei' class uses the reading for 'sei' that means 'holy'. 'Sword Saint' is what I've heard another person use, but now I'm curious as to what sort of 'saint' would use the Night Sword skillset. It's my mistake, but I rather like 'Swordmaster', probably because of Seiken Densetsu 3's Swordmaster class. If someone's so outraged because of this, I'll change it, but I'm inclined to keep it as it is now.

Reviewers!

A Moment of Silence (this would be to the anonymous reviewer whose name consisted of a number of dots), thanks for the comment. I've heard the same thing about VP having a chance at being rereleased. I guess there's a good chance at it; they rereleased Xenogears as a GH when I seriously doubt it sold enough copies to get to that level.

Hey, Luna. I'm kinda glad you weren't all like, "Those Death Knights were Wiegraf and Miluda? Well duh, I figured that out the minute they showed up!" because then my sensitive artist's soul would've collapsed. I can't relate to having an older brother or being an elder sister, I'm an only child. But I'm enjoying feeling out how Zalbag would feel, since even in-game he seems more protective and dependable than, say, Dycedarg. Sibling bonds matter a lot in this story; it's really the best thing about the game, so why change that? I'm glad to read that you're interested in how the story will progress. With this kind of story, it's really hard for me to tell how people are taking the overall plot.
Oh, and I was smiling after I read your review of Training Days. I feel the same way you do about FFT and romance...the game just doesn't inspire pairings. Well, it does, but they don't feel right. That's why I like it so much; it's nice to think beyong putting two characters together at a whim.
Hey, are you going to this year's Otakon, by any chance? A friend of mine and I are planning a cross-country road trip for it, but since it's in August this year it's pretty inconvenient.

Hello, Hawk of Death! Yeah, I figured you'd be caught off-guard by that scene. Can't say that there will be any other 'shocker' type scenes though...because then it wouldn't be a surprise!
Thanks for your review of Training Days, by the way.

Hi, Trueborn Chaos. Nah, if I can help it I won't be using OCs in this story unless it's someone I've named and attempted to make a personality for in WHW. There's just so many characters to use from the game that I'd like to keep it as pure as possible. I didn't know about Orlan's involvement with the Triple Triad game in VIII, probably because I hated that minigame. Cards were only good for refining, as far as I was concerned, and the Card command existed. I do know about IX using most of Tactics' equips and I've submitted at the FFCompendium before.
And with that being said, thank you for your review of Training Days, and I especially appreciate your pointing out that error. It's been fixed.