Chapter Nineteen: Encounter

"Yardow was built to withstand invasion," Malak stated grimly. "It would take a lot of strength and ingenuity to conquer its walls."

"Which would mean a lot of soldiers that we can't afford to spare," Delita added just as grim.

Almost a week had passed since the battle for Yardow had begun. So far the Shrine Knights, who had escaped from the uprising in Riovanes and had joined the fort city's garrison, were able to repel their efforts.

Unlike Riovanes, where its insurrection had begun within its walls and had been somewhat controlled—due to the appearance of a Zodiac stone—as to not harm its citizens, Yardow proved to be quite the opposite. Delita and the others desire to capture the fort city with as little bloodshed as possible, but they were running out of options.

Victory, it seems, would come at a price.

"Then we must focus our attacks at the walls' weakest point, the gate," Ramza advised.

"But it's also the strongest," Orlandu argued. "The gate is wide enough for only one warrior to go through. Once the gate is breached, we can't rush into the city. We'll be picked off one by one by the archers as we pass through, and if we're lucky to survive the arrows, the Shrine Knights' swords would finish the job."

"Point taken," Ramza muttered in defeat then sighed as he shook his head. "It's a stalemate then. Unless we can find a way to rally its citizens to fight, they are left in the dark about our good intentions."

The people of Yardow only knew what the Shrine Knights stationed there tell them as they rarely leave the protection of their city's walls. During this time of struggle, they were locked in their homes, "for their safety" the Shrine Knights called it. If only a few were brave enough to venture out, then they would see the banners of Riovanes and the newly finished banner of Ivalice's sunburst amidst the army that had camped a few miles from their city, showing that they were not the enemy, but an ally trying to restore what once was.

"May I offer a suggestion?" Raizen suddenly voiced after a long, reflective silence.

"Please," Ramza encouraged the young Prince with a tired smile.

Though Raizen had recently fought in his first battle at Riovanes, he had shown an eerie aptitude when it comes to war councils. Not fairly strong in close combat, the young Prince made up for it in tactical planning.

"If we can't go over the walls, why not go through them?" he suggested. "Make our own gate into the city."

"And how do you suppose we accomplish that?" Sir Galyndo questioned, his own voice dubious.

"Cannons," Raizen answered simply. "Your Marines carry them on their ships, designed to sink enemy ships by puncturing holes into their wooden hulls. If they have the power to go through wood, imagine what they could do against a stone wall."

"Of course!" Kristopherson exclaimed, his eyes wide with comprehension. "They could easily tear down those walls!"

"I see…" Delita murmured in thought as he set to rubbing his clean-shaven chin.

With his appearance now eminent, Delita had decided to look as much as the King that had left Ivalice twenty years ago, to reassure his people that he was not dead, but alive and willing to take the throne. Ramza agreed that he certainly did look younger, as if he had gone back in time, to undo all the things he had done in his young adulthood. Perhaps he did so by waging this war.

"Do we have any of those cannons here in camp?" the King asked Sir Galyndo, who shook his head in reply.

"They are still at Riovanes. We never thought of bringing them along and even if we did, they're quite cumbersome to transport. Cannons are heavy things and require at least two chocobos each to haul them."

"Well, their usefulness is now needed," Delita stated. "How long will it take to transport them?"

"Probably three days," the Tempest Knight replied then shrugged as he added, "Four at the most. Shall I send a rider for them?"

"No," Orlandu replied before Delita could voice an answer. "Four days are too long. We must take into consideration the report about Yardow sending for aid. By the time the cannons arrive, we may be outnumbered…and outmatched. We must take the city as soon as able."

"But without the cannons to tear down those walls, we're powerless," Delita argued. "You've already witnessed our efforts in taking the city. Destroying those walls is the key into winning this battle for Yardow."

"I know that, your majesty," Orlandu nodded, "but there might be an alternative," he pointed out, "and it is here in this camp."

"Then out with it, old man!" the King exclaimed, as he pounded a fist on the table, flustered at this prevarication.

Orlandu was unperturbed by the outburst, only staring calmly at Delita, his eyes briefly flashing in warning. He may be getting on in his years, but he still possessed that spark that gave him the title of "Thunder God Cid".

"You may have not heard this," the old knight began as he leaned back in his chair. "The day after we buried Meliadoul at Orbonne, I ordered Mustadio to destroy the monastery. No one should ever suffer in that place again," he added with a sigh before straightening in his chair. "I know my story is hard to believe," he continued, seeing the doubt on the others' faces, "but it's true. Mustadio destroyed the monastery by using some items he had found at the mines in Goug. These items have an explosive force equal to that of a Bomb or a group of Bombs. From that time, he had only five of those items left, but I'm sure he has found a way to replicate them during our long exile. He may be able to bring down those walls with those items."

"Send for him," Delita immediately ordered Malak, not wanting to ponder on the impossibility of the tale. If the Engineer does possess the means of bringing down the walls, then they could probably take Yardow within the next day or two, sooner than waiting for the cannons to arrive from Riovanes.

Pleased with the thought, he casually leaned back on his chair, positioned at the head of the wooden table, facing the entrance of the command tent. To his right, his expression thoughtful, sat his son, to his left, Ramza. Orlandu occupied the seat to Ramza's left, his stark white hair and lined face a contrast to the stern youthful features of the raven-haired Tempest Knight, Kristopherson Galyndo, who faced him across the table.

Delita closed his eyes in contemplation, his face passive. Through the noise of the surrounding camp, he could hear Ramza shift beside him, his leather armor creaking. He could hear fingers drumming softly on the tabletop and the distinctive rustle of a robe.

How long of a time passed, he did not know, but soon he heard the flap of the tent pushed aside and felt cool air brush his cheek. He opened his eyes to see Malak returned accompanied by the Engineer, looking worn but optimistic as usual. "I was told I was needed." Mustadio's voice was cheerful. "What can I do for you, gentlemen?"

Orlandu said, "Mustadio, Prince Raizen has offered a plan that could help us win this battle, a plan to destroy a portion of the wall surrounding the city that is big enough for our soldiers to enter and I told him, as the others present, that you hold the key to executing it successfully. Remember Orbonne?"

"How could I not forget?" Mustadio murmured, his tone becoming dark, as he shook his head, trying to shake off the unpleasant memory.

"Then it's true?" Delita asked. "That you destroyed Orbonne?"

"Yes." Mustadio stared at the King, his cheerfulness gone, replaced by a grimness uncharacteristic of him. "And I could do the same with Yardow's walls."

"How long will it take you to prepare?" This time, it was Raizen who voiced the question.

There was a pause as Mustadio thought, then he said, "A day, I'd think; surely no more than two. I would need to determine at which point of the wall to destroy first then make some calculations on how many dynamite will be needed to destroy it without harming any houses nearby. If I'm not careful, the blast could be powerful enough not only to destroy the wall itself, but the surrounding buildings as well."

"At least it's faster than waiting for the cannons to arrive," Raizen announced before any objections might be raised. "As long as you're careful with your preparations, I see no flaw with the plan. How say the rest of you?"

"It has my support," said Kristopherson, relief in his voice, knowing that he didn't have to send a rider back to Riovanes.

"And mine," added Malak.

"Yes," Ramza said, "it sounds fine. They would be caught by surprise."

"Father?" Raizen prompted. "How say you?"

Delita paused before speaking, then: "I see no problem with it. So yes, I am in accord."

"And I," Orlandu announced. "I had thought to see more days of fighting and I am delighted the young Prince has offered a solution and the Engineer has the means of executing it successfully."

Raizen and Mustadio bowed their heads in acknowledgment.

"So be it," Delita said. "Make your preparations. The battle will resume in two days' time."

There was a murmur of agreement and a scraping of chairs as Orlandu and Kristopherson rose, but before they could take their leave, Wolfen burst in, looking quite alarmed.

"My lords!" he gasped. "Forgive the intrusion, but our spy has returned with some disturbing news." A bird of light-brown feathers on his shoulder twittered madly as it hopped about, flapping its wings, as if trying to convey the gravity of the situation.

"Must be serious," Malak murmured in remark, gazing at the bird's odd behavior.

"It is," Wolfen nodded before snapping at the animal, "Would you stop it already? I'm going to tell them." The bird puffed its feathers as if in indignation, but became silent.

"Well then, let's hear it," urged Delita.

"Of course," Wolfen again nodded. "The reinforcements to Yardow have arrived just now."

"Impossible!" Orlandu exclaimed in disbelief as he abruptly sat back down. "Reports say that Murond has sent its knights to Igros and Lionel to Bervenia. How could they spare enough knights to aid their own in Yardow?"

"Because these knights are not from the Church," Wolfen replied. "According to our spy," the bird chirped cheerfully, puffing its chest in pride, "these troops bear the symbol of a three-pointed crown."

"Lesalia..." Ramza muttered, his eyes troubled.

"What are they doing aiding the Church?" Raizen inquired curiously. "They do not belong there."

"Prince Clemence does not care what Jaren does with his army," Kristopherson explained, retaking his seat more slowly than the old knight across from him. "As long as it pleases the Church."

"The question now is what shall we do?" Orlandu asked. "They are not the enemy and I am loath to fight our own."

"Then we must persuade them that we are not," Delita answered simply, as if it had been obvious from the beginning. "I shall parley with the commander."

"Not alone," added Raizen. "I shall go with you. Perhaps together we could influence their decision in siding with us."

During the exchange, Ramza kept silent, his eyes turned inward in thought. If there was a chance they would engage with the knights of Lesalia, then there was the possibility that she...

"Ramza."

Delita's voice interrupted his musing, and he looked up to see everyone staring at him in concern.

"This news troubles you," Raizen noted.

Ramza smiled thinly. "Many things trouble me, my young Prince, but it's nothing for you, or for anyone, to worry about."

"I think it is something for us to worry about," Orlandu asserted softly, smiling in understanding as Ramza turned to look at him. "You're thinking of her, aren't you?"

The Beoulve did not immediately reply as he looked down at his hands, folded as if in prayer.

Recently, he and the others had learned of her transfer to Lesalia from a Tempest Knight, who, by chance, had visited the Imperial Capital long before Ramza's reentry into Ivalice and had seen the young woman fight in a duel when she was but a squire. The report had shocked them, to learn that she had returned to her place of birth. It seemed only appropriate.

"She is our responsibility." Orlandu gently placed a gnarled hand on Ramza's arm in comfort and support. "We will watch over her during the battle."

"If it comes to that," Ramza murmured.

"If it comes to that," Orlandu amended as he nodded. "We owe Agrias that much at least."

"Yes," Ramza agreed, "we do." He then sighed as he unfolded his hands, laying them flat on the table as he rose from his chair. It seemed that he came to a decision as he looked to Delita and Raizen in determination. "Tomorrow I shall ride with you to Yardow, and even if we fail in convincing the Lesalian knights to join us, we'll have at least one of them on our side. It is the least we could do…" he added somberly as he turned to look at Orlandu, Malak, and Mustadio, all nodding in grim agreement.


In the waning light, Ramia watched as her men set up camp outside Yardow's walls. Since they were too many for the city to hold, arrangements were made for the knights to camp out.

Her own tent was already set near the city's gate, having refused Troy's—commander of the garrison stationed in Yardow—offer of quarters at the city's barracks. She'd rather stay with her men out in the field than to hide behind walls. Young though she may be, she was willing to prove herself among her men.

The youngest to ever have attained the rank of commander, many were a bit doubtful of her abilities to lead the knighthood. Many had called for Gyle's leadership, but surprisingly, he had refused, humbly giving her his support. Ramia knew then that Father Jaren had spoken with Gyle concerning their differences.

Though still somewhat wary around him, she was grateful for his assistance as he managed the settlement of the troops and later brought word to her that they have settled down.

"Good," Ramia nodded in approval. "Take command, Lord Gyle. I want you to look after the camp in my absence."

"Are you going somewhere, Lady Ramia?" Gyle questioned.

"I have been invited to attend dinner with Commander Troy where I will be apprised of the situation," Ramia explained. "I shall return shortly and brief you on the situation. Perhaps between us we can formulate a plan on how to engage the enemy."

"Very well." Gyle nodded in agreement. "I shall await your return." He then saluted and Ramia returned the gesture before taking her leave, turning away to enter the nearby gate to the city.

The trip to the city garrison was short, the building standing against the city wall, near the gate from whence she entered and took the few steps to the garrison's door, briefly pausing to study the surrounding walls where Shrine Knights stood guard in the watchtowers while others patrolled the ramparts. Torches were being lit as the sun finally disappeared and in their glow, Ramia saw the wounds some bore—some grievous, others minor—and wondered what had happened since the city's siege as she continued on to the garrison where the guard on duty saluted before ushering her to the commander's quarters.

Troy sat at a simple four-legged table, a decanter at his elbow, a glass of—what Ramia presumed to be ale—clutched in his right hand. Torchlight fell slanting across his face, and when he smiled in greeting, Ramia saw lines of weariness drawn across thinned cheeks.

"Your knights are settled?"

Ramia nodded. "Thank you for your concern."

"It is I who should be thanking you." He gestured at the chair in front of him. "Please sit. You'll take ale?" he asked as Ramia sat down, indicating the decanter.

Ramia shook her head. "No, thank you. I prefer some warm cider in this cold weather."

"Ah, yes," Troy nodded, glancing out the window thoughtfully. "Winter is almost upon us…"

"The more so to bring this siege to an end," Ramia pointed out, "before the first snows come."

"I couldn't agree with you more," Troy acknowledged as he reverted his attention back to Ramia. "Now that you and your troops are here, I have no doubt we will end this siege long before then."

"Then tell me of the current situation so that we may find a way to resolve it as soon as possible." Ramia shifted in her seat as to find a comfortable position, knowing the explanation may take the better part of her evening.

"Yes, of course." The garrison commander gulped a measure of ale, as if in preparation for the lengthy report. "It's been nearly a week since the battle began. So far, our walls have sufficiently protected us, our archers having the advantage as they shot the enemy down."

"But not without taking damage themselves," Ramia commented, recalling the wounds she had seen.

"Yes, unfortunately." Troy sighed at the reminder. "Unlike us, they have skilled mages among their ranks. We can't protect ourselves against their magic and our medical supplies are low. We have too many wounded to man the walls."

"Another reason for the reinforcements." Ramia leaned against the back of her chair, her expression pensive. "I shall make arrangements for the wounded to be treated and the walls to be reinforced as soon as our meeting is adjourned."

"Thank you," Troy nodded in gratitude.

"As to engaging the enemy," Ramia continued, "are there any more details you could provide that may be helpful to their defeat?"

Troy emptied his glass and filled it. "I've already told you what I know, Lady Ramia, but there are those who had fought them personally at Riovanes Castle. Perhaps they could provide you with an in-depth report on their tactics."

"I'd speak with them."

"Now, Lady Ramia?" Troy glanced at an hourglass sitting on a shelf over his right shoulder. "It's almost time for dinner. A feast is prepared in honor of your arrival."

Ramia smiled reassuringly. "I did not plan on speaking with them today, Commander. Tomorrow, in the presence of Lord Gyle, where we can plan accordingly and perhaps gauge the enemy's number and strength from a vantage point on the western wall."

"That would be wise," Troy agreed as he stood up and ushered her out of his quarters and into the mess hall.

Little did they know, they would gauge the enemy sooner than expected...

…or as one should put it, the enemy would sooner gauge them.

It was when Ramia and Gyle were listening to the Shrine Knights' report the next day that they received news that a delegation from the enemy camp wished to speak with the Commander of the Lesalian Knights.

"How did they know we're here?" Gyle inquired warily. "Our arrival was not made public and I doubt the enemy has spies within the city."

"I was surprised myself, my lord," Galvin, who had brought the message, replied, trying to hide the aversion in his voice. Like Ramia, he disliked the knight ever since the day he had questioned Lord Oaks' honor. It had been an insult to him and his family and he could not quite forgive him even if he openly supported Ramia.

"Whatever the case, this may be our chance to learn more about our enemy," Ramia stated and Galvin could see the resolve in her eyes, and something else…

A hunger, a desire for retribution.

He realized then that this has become a personal matter to Ramia.

"What do you think, Lord Gyle?" she inquired as she looked up at her second standing besides her.

"That would be the wiser course," he responded calmly, his tone neutral as to not sound patronizing. As second-in-command, his duty was to aid the inexperienced commander, but all he had done was arrange the army's billeting and listen to the Shrine Knights' reports. Ramia seemed quite able to handle military matters herself and he was afraid that his resourcefulness will not be needed. He could not have that especially if he were to carry out Father Jaren's personal order and gain the position as commander in exchange.

He recalled the small conversation he had with the priest after Ramia's appointment as commander, remembered his order perfectly and the promise given if he were to carry it out successfully.

Make sure Ramia does not return from the battle at Fovoham. Do this, Lord Gyle, and I shall appoint you commander in her place.

He coveted that position, but if things continued on the path they were on now, his dream will not see reality. Somehow, he must find a way to manipulate the young Holy Knight, to turn things into his favor…

"Shall I bring them then?" Galvin's voice brought Gyle from his musing.

"Please," Ramia nodded. "It's time we put a face to our enemy."


As they were escorted to their promised meeting with the commanding officer of the St. Konoe Knights, Ramza searched the houses, the walls, the streets for a familiar face—a face he had seen for a brief moment at Grog Hill.

But the only familiar face he found was the knight that led them, the one he had seen accompanying her that night that seemed to be a lifetime ago. He wanted to ask him if there was a chance they could meet her after their appointment with the commander, but knew that such a question would only serve to raise suspicion, so he kept silent.

Just as well, for it proved unnecessary when they finally reached a building at the other end of the city, far from any escape if worse comes to worst.

They were quickly brought to a small room with its simple furnishings, the light of the morning sun filtering through the only window to the right of the doorway where someone stood, surveying the walls through the glass, hands held behind their back. An older knight stood behind a long wooden table, gazing at them curiously as their escort announced their arrival.

To which the person facing the window replied: "Thank you, Galvin. You may return to your duties."

As their escort—Galvin—saluted before taking his leave, Ramza looked to the commander, sensing something very peculiar about her.

To know that the commanding knight of Lesalia was a female did not surprise him, it was the fact this woman sounded very young, but then again, he wasn't much older himself when he had led his friends against the Church.

This did not seem to bother Delita as he stepped forward and said, "Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Commander."

"And what do you plan on accomplishing in this meeting?" she inquired as she turned away from the window to walk to the table where the older knight awaited, her back turned towards them, the light from the window revealing a long braid of golden hair.

Ramza glanced at Delita, who nodded in return. Both men recognized the hairstyle. Agrias had worn her hair in the same manner, unlike most female knights who left their hair down, like Lavian and Alicia. As she calmly sat down behind the table, facing them for the first time, it was hard then to hide their surprise.

"Ramia…!" Ramza gasped as Delita stared in disbelief.

The young woman they had sworn to return with to the others sat before them, a commander of knights. The mission that had seemed straightforward now had become complicated.

Upon hearing her name, Ramia went on the defensive, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as a hand went to the hilt of her sword. She noticed Gyle stepping forward slightly as he demanded, "How is it you know the Commander's name?"

Seeing that his father and Ramza were still in a state of shock, Raizen took it upon himself to answer the knight's query, stepping away from Delita's side to confront the man. "The name of Ramia is well-known in our camp."

"Her name may be known, but that doesn't explain how you could match her name with her face," Gyle refuted.

"Her face," Ramza suddenly inserted, Raizen's answer spluttering into silence, "is the face of her mother."

"My…mother?" Ramia asked with a distinct sense of dejá vu. She looked at Gyle, wondering if he felt the same way. This encounter seemed familiar to the encounter she had with him five years ago when they had first met at the practice ground in Lesalia.

Gyle did feel as if he had gone through this before, his features grim as he studied the group carefully. He thought he knew all of the people Agrias had come into contact with in her life, save for the time she had served as Queen Ovelia's bodyguard…

Were these people then those she had traveled with during that time? He vaguely remembered seeing a squire among their retinue along with a strange boy when they had stopped over at Lesalia for a brief visit. A peculiar bunch for knights to travel with, he had thought, but had given no further notice.

But now he wondered…

If these men had traveled with her during the war, perhaps he could use that information to his advantage.

And used it he did when he said to Ramia, "My lady, I believe I know how these men know your mother."

"You do?" Ramia was slightly surprised at the statement for it had been her next question to the strangers, as it had been that time long ago.

Gyle nodded. "These men may have traveled with your mother during the Lion War. That is how they could recognize you. And if I'm not mistaken, they came here to convince you to side with them as they had persuaded her during the war."

Ramia bristled at this and she glared at the trio. "Is this true?"

"In part," Delita admitted. "We have also come to convince the St. Konoe Knights to join us in our cause."

Ramia snorted derisively. "Then you have just wasted your time, gentlemen. I have no intention in joining your army and I will not allow any of my knights to defect to your side."

"But your duty is to your country and its people!" Delita insisted as he stepped forward, to which Gyle reacted by readying to draw his sword. Delita noticed this and so disciplined himself to calm down. "I thought," he began once more when he had calmed, "that a knight from a very well-respected family would understand that."

Ramia's expression hardened. "My father left before I was even born," her voice was filled with suppressed anger, "my mother imprisoned, and my grandfather murdered. My family was once respected but it was you men and the others who were with you that brought its downfall and I fight to reclaim what was lost." She then waved a nonchalant hand. "Talk all you want, but you'll find that I am not so easy to convince as my mother."

Delita looked to his son, hoping he could offer a fresher argument to this seemingly hopeless debate. Raizen, however, shrugged helplessly. There was so much he could do, but healing one's bitterness was something different.

Delita then turned to Ramza, who shook his head and said, "Enough. We respect your decision, Ramia."

"That's Lady Ramia to you, knave!" Gyle snapped.

"Lady Ramia…" Ramza amended as he bowed his head, a note of sadness in his soft voice. "I'm sorry that you feel that way."

"Don't be," she sneered. "I don't need your sympathy."

Ramza felt as if he had been stabbed between the ribs. He had seen bitterness manifest itself in the form of two female knights, especially in Lavian, but it seemed Ramia personified the very character. And he could not help but blame himself for all of her woes.

"Lord Gyle, please show these men out of the city." Ramia's curt command brought him from his reverie.

"Why?" Gyle inquired, confused. "They have admitted that they were the ones who persuaded your mother, that they are," he paused as he turned to look at the trio, "the heretics," he saw one flinch slightly at the label and knew that the assumption was correct, "the Church is looking for. They are the key to your mother's freedom. Will you let them go so easily?"

"I let them go so they could bear my message to the others in their camp," Ramia responded evenly.

"And what is that message?" Raizen asked, wishing in his heart that he could have done more as he had promised at the meeting yesterday.

"That justice has finally caught up with them."


Rad came to meet them as they rode through camp, his eyes searching as they led their chocobos to a picketed area where they left them to be tended after by the attendants. "I take it the meeting did not go well," he remarked upon seeing their sullen expressions.

Delita nodded. "There's much to explain."

"And much to plan," Ramza added, his voice somewhat subdued as if to hide his pain, which Rad could clearly see in his eyes. Somehow the knight knew there was more at stake at the upcoming battle than just the recovery of the fort city, the recovery of the entire province, and he clasped a supportive hand on Ramza's shoulder.

"Whatever you plan on doing, leader, know that I will follow you, no questions asked."

Ramza smiled his thanks, then said, "We must gather the others. They need to hear this."

"I'll go," Raizen volunteered.

"Find Sir Galyndo as well," Delita yelled after his son as he began to run off. "This also concerns the Tempest Knights."

"I guess I'll go too," Rad said as he began trotting off after the Prince. "He may have some trouble finding the others."

Ramza nodded then sighed as he watched Rad disappear into the camp. "How shall I explain it to them?" he asked Delita.

"You'll find a way," his friend replied reassuringly. "You always do."

Ramza wished he could share his friend's confidence, but he could not forget the anger he had seen in Ramia's eyes nor ignore the hatred he had heard in her voice…


The command tent had fallen silent after Delita's account of the failed meeting. It unnerved Sir Galyndo as he observed everyone's faces, seeing remorse in some, resolve in others, but what they all had in common was a faith in each other. The Tempest Knight had never seen such a bond of friendship as strong as this group of 'heretics'. They must have shared much during the Lion War to feel the others' pain.

"What are we to do now?" He winced at his own voice, which seemed magnified in such a restrained atmosphere. He didn't want to break the silence, but knowing that doing nothing, reaps nothing, and he needed to know if they were still continuing on with the plan.

"What indeed…" Orlandu murmured as he shook his head. "This is unexpected. I had hoped we would avoid much bloodshed with the joining of the Lesalian order."

"We had hoped too much," Delita said from the head of the table, "or should we say, assumed too much. But bloodshed can still be avoided, must be avoided."

"Then you ask for the impossible," Malak stated from the other end, near the tent's entrance. "Blood will spill when Mustadio destroys those walls."

"Shrine Knights' blood, yes," Delita nodded. "What I meant is to avoid the spilling of Lesalian blood. If we are to continue on towards the capital, I need the swords of every able knight in every knight order. Lesalia is no exception. They must be reminded of their duty."

"But how?" Kristopherson questioned. "From what I understand from your report, your majesty, this…Ramia seems to be angry with all of you."

"And without good reason," Lavian sighed, her eyes sad and weary. Rad set a firm hand on her shoulder, lending his support, and she was glad of it as she took it, seeking comfort in its touch. "She remembers her mother, of that I am glad," she continued, "but it saddens me that we encounter her under such circumstances."

"It saddens all of us, Lavian," Beowulf concurred. "But as Sir Galyndo had put it, what are we to do now? Delita," he looked to the monarch, "you said that we need to avoid the spilling of Lesalian blood. How do you plan on accomplishing that?"

"Sleep," Alicia interjected in her rough voice, which caught everyone's attention.

The knight maiden had become a bit more communicative since Ramza's arrival, but her speech was often clipped and she only spoke when it mattered most, as if she didn't want to waste her breath uttering words. Oftentimes, however, the words she did utter were very cryptic and difficult to interpret.

Such was the case.

"Sleep?" Beowulf repeated, confused. "Are you tired, Alicia? Do you wish to retire?"

The redhead shook her head. "Sleep," she said again, this time pointing at Lavian, who shook her head in turn.

"I'm not sleepy," she said.

Alicia growled, which set the others on edge as hands fingered hilts and stocks alike, afraid that the woman was turning berserk again. But the redhead did not growl in anger, but in frustration for it was difficult to express her thoughts with words.

"Sleep!" she exclaimed, this time holding both of her arms up. "Sleep!"

The others looked to each other, hoping that one of them had an interpretation of what the knight meant, but each shook their heads. Even Lavian was not able to understand what her friend was trying to convey, and she understood her better than the rest. Then suddenly:

"I know!" her son cried out enthusiastically, his hand raised as he jumped up and down in an attempt to gain their attention.

"What is it, Randall?" Lavian implored as she placed a gentle hand on her son's shoulder to calm him.

"Magic, mother," Randall replied and Alicia nodded, uttering, "Sleep!" again as she raised her arms. "Alicia is saying that we should cast a sleep spell on the knights," the young man interpreted afterwards.

"Of course!" Raizen exclaimed in understanding as Orlandu pounded the table, chuckling. The stance Alicia had taken was indicative of a mage casting a spell.

"Easier said than done," Malak inserted bluntly. "We only have a few squadrons of mages against thousands of knights. They'll be vulnerable as they cast their spells."

"A trap then," Ramza suggested without hesitation as he turned to a pile of rolled maps at a side table, searching for a moment, the others waiting in silence. He finally found the map and pulled it from the pile, unrolling it onto the table afterwards where the others could see.

It was a map of the fort city and the surrounding area. "Mustadio, exactly which portion of the wall do you plan on destroying?" he asked, gesturing towards a dark line that indicated the boundary of the city.

"Here." Mustadio pointed at the gate. "It's the weakest point of the wall so it seems sensible to destroy it there. It will be difficult to set the explosives with it being guarded heavily, but it can be done."

Ramza nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful as his eyes roved over the parchment, trying to picture the deployment of knights and mages. "Very well then," he said. "Once the gate has been breached, we will charge into the city," he continued in a determined voice. "I will lead a strike force through the destroyed gate to clear the way for our wizards. Lavian," he looked to the knight mage, "I place you in charge of them."

She nodded in understanding and Ramza continued with the strategy:

"A rank of archers shall hide in the nearby woods, taking out the defenders that remain on the wall. They shall clear the way for Lavian and her unit to secure the wall. Mustadio," this time he turned to the Engineer, "you will lead this unit."

Mustadio understood the responsibility given him and nodded in acceptance.

"Once the wall is secured," Ramza resumed, "Mustadio and my units shall continue to fight until the Lesalian troops will arrive to aid them. The second unit can help us if they wish, but I prefer they wait until Ramia and the others arrive."

"Where they could cast the spell safely," Orlandu murmured, stroking his beard as he reviewed the plan in his mind. "It may work…"

"But what if they arrive before then?" Malak was ever the observant one and Ramza wondered if that had been a result of him leading his people. Before then, the Beoulve had known him as a follower instead of a leader, but in a way he was glad for his sharp mind. It's been twenty years since he had led an army, though small, and he had to admit that he was a bit out of practice.

After giving it much thought, he answered, "Subdue them, but do not kill them. It's the only thing we can do without suffering any casualties on both sides. Wounds can be healed, but the dead can't be raised."

"And the Shrine Knights?" Malak returned.

"Kill them," was Ramza's cold response.

Everyone was taken aback by that simple command; it lacked any compassion, only malice that they have never heard from the Beoulve when it concerned their enemy. He had always shown mercy, giving them quarter whenever they chose to surrender. But it seemed none would be given nor offered.

"The Church has taken enough innocent souls with their lies." He looked at everyone, his gaze piercing as if he was staring into their very souls. "No more."

Blood would be spilled tomorrow…

The day of reckoning.


The gray light of pre-dawn limned the skyline, a flock of birds taking to the air as they began their hunt for an early meal. All was quiet, and if it weren't for the sight of knights on the walls, one would say it was peaceful.

A Shrine Knight yawned openly, leaning against his spear heavily. He had stood on watch all night and he longed for bed. Once the sun peaked over the horizon, he would finally be relieved from duty. He yawned again as the first ray of light peaked over the horizon and with it oblivion as he was blown from his post by a huge blast that destroyed the western gate and nearby sections of the wall.

Shouts of alarm filled the air as a force of enemy troops rushed the entrance. They were led by a flaxen-haired man in leather wielding two swords, and they had robed wizards with them.

"The gate's been breached!" Gyle burst into Ramia's tent to find her struggling into her armor.

"I heard!" she growled, finally latching the last buckle on her armor. Grabbing sword and shield, she rushed past Gyle to quickly give out orders.

But the attack had come so suddenly that it had caught Ramia unawares, her troops in disarray as they, like she, struggled to quickly equip themselves for battle. Those who were ready—a quarter of the order—stood in attention, awaiting orders.

Nodding in approval at their readiness, she turned to Gyle. "As soon as the others are prepared, lead a few brigades of knights and wizards along the wall," she ordered. She felt strangely composed after the first few moments of surprise, and well aware of the situation, her mind seeing clearly the plan that was beginning to form as she gazed up at the wall. "Perhaps we can use it to our advantage. In the meantime, I will lead these men," she gestured to the readied troops, "to push the enemy back. Hopefully, that will give the Shrine Knights enough time to retrieve their wounded and pull back."

"Agreed," Gyle nodded. "I shall see to the forming of the brigades and join you soon."

"I shall have them this day," Ramia vowed, her eyes shining with purpose as she turned to her troops, which was increasing as more knights joined the ranks. She drew her sword and raised it high, the knight blade catching the sun's rays as it rose steadily higher into the sky. A brilliant flash later, she was charging into the city, yelling out a battle cry.

The others followed her, unsheathing swords and shouting out their own battle cries, a cacophony of war.

The decisive battle for Yardow has begun.


Ramza briefly admired Mustadio's work as he led the advancing party inside the shattered gate. It was completely destroyed along with most sections of the wall, the knights on guard either buried beneath the rubble or burned by the fiery blast.

The few Shrine Knights, who had escaped the week's past battles intact, were still in disarray after the initial attack and he took advantage of their confusion as he led the charge into their midst, hearing the deadly whistle of arrows from behind as Mustadio's unit began working on the defenders left on the wall.

As Ramza and Mustadio's units continued to wreck havoc on the disorganized Shrine Knights, Lavian carefully led her unit of magicians, which consisted of Ramza's Ordallian friend, Rae, Beowulf, and seven Tempest Magicians, through the gate and decided to split her group into two equal parts, each taking a side of the destroyed gate.

Beowulf led four Tempest Magicians to the southern side of the gate while Lavian took the rest up the northern side, each group carefully climbing to the top as the Shrine Knights began to rain arrows upon them.

Up on a hill further out from the west gate of Yardow, Delita and Raizen sat on chocobos with a few units remaining on standby if they should be needed in the battle. But everything seemed to be going well, as Raizen remarked to his father, observing the battle through Mustadio's invention—the spyglass—marveling at how he could see the encounter clearly as if he was in the midst of it.

He watched as Lavian's unit finally secured the wall, Mustadio's unit having done their task of eliminating the remaining Shrine Knights, and positioned themselves accordingly as they waited for the Lesalian reinforcements to arrive. Mustadio's unit, however, moved into the city to support Ramza's unit as they pushed the enemy back.

"Let me see," Delita said, reaching out a hand to his son, who gave him the spyglass in return. He then peered through it and nodded in approval at what he saw. "Everything is as Ramza has predicted," he commented as he continued to survey the battle from afar.

Despite the enemy having the greater numbers, they were sorely hard pressed as both Ramza and Mustadio's units kept the offensive. Flashes of lightning rained down from the sky from Orlandu's Lightning Stab even as bodies flew everywhere as Draven and Alicia's berserk states lend them the strength of a hundred knights combined.

Then he saw them.

A great wave of swords and armor, the metal glinting in the mid-morning sun, rushed towards the battle, and in their midst he recognized the standard of Lesalia.

Delita lowered the spyglass, his expression solemn. "They come."


They outnumbered their enemies, yet they were fighting a losing battle. Troy ordered his men to hold the line until reinforcements would arrive. But it seemed hopeless as he watched more of his knights fall to either sword or arrow. Two of his enemies were especially merciless, chopping into his ranks as if scything through a wheat field.

Then he heard them.

The Shrine Knight Commander briefly looked back and saw that the reinforcements have finally arrived. "Stand firm, men!" he ordered, hope renewed at the sight of their allies. "Our allies have arrived!"

At that declaration, the Shrine Knights began to fight with renewed vigor, confident now that they would win this battle when just moments before they were ready to surrender.

Likewise, Ramza and Mustadio's parties pushed the attack even as Lavian's group readied themselves to cast the sleep spell on the approaching reinforcements. But as the Lesalian army edged closer to the front lines, both units slowly retreated until the Lesalian troop burst through the lines, Ramia leading the charge.

"Back! Fall back!" commanded Ramza and both units made a full retreat, leading the charging army within range of the spell.

"Don't let them escape!" Ramia roared, rushing headlong, eager to do battle and to win back her mother's freedom. The St. Konoe Knights followed her willingly, the Shrine Knights joining within their ranks, all unsuspecting of the trap set for them, the thought of victory blinding them.

Lavian watched as the army came within range and she gave the signal. As one, her unit began to cast the sleep spell.

Ramia realized too late that she had brought themselves into a trap, watching as one by one her men slowly fell to the ground fast asleep. Some were stubborn, however, fighting droopy eyes and yawning mouths as they continued the charge. But they, too, soon fell to the spell and she was left alone, the ground around her littered with snoring knights.

She was the only one left that stood between victory and defeat.

"Cowards!" she shouted defiantly at her enemies even as she wondered how she had escaped the spell's grasp. "You dare resort to sorcery?"

"We dare to prevent unwanted bloodshed," one of them answered as he walked forward slowly to stand facing her, alone and armed.

"You!" she hissed as she recognized one of the men she had met yesterday.

He nodded. "I am Ramza Beoulve. I am the one you seek."

"Ramza Beoulve?" Ramia repeated in shock. "The heretic Ramza Beoulve?"

At long last, she found the source of her family's suffering. She could finally end it here today and fulfill her grandfather's wish. With the death—not capture, for he wasn't worth capturing—of the heretic, there would be no doubt that Father Jaren would honor his promise of releasing Agrias.

Ramia angled her sword in accusation. "You are the one!" Then, with an earsplitting shout, charged forward, sword lifted high to cleave Ramza's unprotected skull.

The knightsword moved with appalling speed, slashing down as Ramza sidestepped, hacking his own sword—flat side of the blade as to soften the blow—at the Holy Knight's midriff, seeking to strike where the breastplate ended. He saw her shield move as though propelled of its own volition to block his cut, and felt his wrist throb with the impact of the blow. He danced back as Ramia's sword sang round, slashing at his throat, feeling the wind of its passage rustle past his face, and turned his blade, aiming for the underside of the forearm.

Again the shield turned his cut, smashing his sword arm up, crashing against his chest so that he was driven back, struggling to maintain his balance as Ramia turned with deadly speed to send a reverse stroke hacking at his side. The steel caught his armor, numbing his ribs, and he spun round, letting himself be driven towards a house, looking for an opening as the Holy Knight's blade darted and wove before him.

He backed away, fighting on the defensive as Ramia bellowed a battle cry and charged afresh, her hazel eyes glinting in anticipation of victory. They darkened, however, as Ramza countered the attack, as if he had expected it, merely parrying her thrust with a tap, her momentum driving her forward so that she barely had time to block his next attack, grimacing as she felt the flat side of his blade slap against her exposed back.

Ramia quickly turned, anger welling in her eyes at the taunt, but Ramza stood patiently, his eyes showing no delight in this duel, but a kind of sadness.

Regret?, Ramia thought as she charged again. Yes. You shall regret everything you've done!

And into her mind came a vision of the lash descending again and again against her mother's back, heard the taunts of the other knights, watched as her grandfather died in her arms, and beheld the withered form of the once proud Holy Knight that was her mother sitting in a dank cell. Of all the suffering she and her family went through…

All because of this one man.

"I'll make you regret everything!" she yelled, those past images fresh in her mind, lending her strength and purpose, as she commenced her attack with a fury of blows, slashing and hacking at Ramza's head and ribs, moving around the confined space of the city, oblivious of the onlookers.

Ramza knew that it must end. He allowed her to continue forcing him back, circling the entrance yard of the city, defending himself, no longer seeking to attack.

"Why do you not attack me?" Ramia demanded, hoping to coax her enemy to fight back as to find an opening in his defense.

"Because I do not wish to fight you, Ramia," Ramza replied, his blades dancing before him as he deflected and blocked Ramia's blows. "I do not wish to hurt you."

Ramia snorted then and swung her sword in a great arc. "Hurt me? You've done more than 'hurt' me." The knightsword sent sparks as it slashed against the stone wall of the city. "You are the cause of my pain and my suffering and I shall end it all today by taking your head!"

Ramza knew it was time and he acted as though in desperation, hoping to end Ramia's misguided mission in one blow for she was right. All will end today, but it would not end with him losing his head, as he ducked and stepped inside Ramia's swing, at the same time ramming the pommel of his sword into her belly.

Ramia gasped, staggering back at the blow before falling to her knees as she tried to catch her breath.

Ramza stood above her, calm, as silence filled the city. "No more," he said. "I will not fight you anymore, Ramia, only ask for your surrender."

"Never," she growled between breaths as she looked up at him in hatred. "I'll never surrender, not while I live." She struggled to rise, but that blow did more than just winded her, and she fell back to one knee, grimacing, not in pain but in defeat. The duel had drained her of her strength and for the first time in her life she felt very vulnerable.

"Then you leave me no choice," Ramza returned as he raised his sword.

Ramia saw the sword rising above her, watched it arc upward. She did not flinch, only glared at her enemy, angry at him and angry at herself that she had failed. She had failed to grant her grandfather's wish and she had failed her mother. All the struggles she'd been through had been for naught.

All because of this one man.

The sword flashed when it reached its zenith, catching the sun's light, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the deathblow, praying that she would be forgiven in the afterlife. She did not see the sword descend, did not see the pity in her enemy's eyes, only felt a sharp pain at the back of her head before oblivion claimed her.

"I'm sorry, Ramia…" Ramza murmured as he gazed at her slumped form. "You left me no choice."

A trumpet call pierced the air, a mournful song echoing through the city like a wailing ghost, sounding the retreat as Gyle took the rest of his knights from the city, leaving Ramia behind, fulfilling his order to the priest.

And as they left, the first snows began to fall.

Winter has arrived.