OOC: Lord Chaltier here with another FFT one-shot involving my two favorite characters: Ramza Beoulve and Agrias Oaks. IMO, they make such a wonderful couple, their lack of interaction in the game only makes for more use of a person's imagination. Agrias might be a tad out of character, but I tried to stay true to her in-game personality. There's no certain point in which this takes place, just some time after Alma is captured. Hope you enjoy it.

Final Fantasy Tactics

-An Interlude of Destiny-

What A Warrior Fears

Night had fallen on the war-torn land of Ivalice. A country fiercely entangled in the bloody Lion War lay bathed in the calming moonlight. Within its serene atmosphere, some could momentarily forget about the horrors of the bloody battles, or the stinging pain of losing those close to them, or even their own way in the whole ordeal. The war was taking its toll on every living person in Ivalice, from the soldiers fighting the war to those overseeing it. No one was spared from the exhausting pressures the war was bearing down with. But neither side dared to submit. Both Prince Larg and Prince Goltana's stubborness concerning the succession of the throne caused the war to rage on with merciless abound.

However, previously unknown forces began to emerge. They were the true instigators, those who manipulated the manipulators. The army of the Devil, the Lucavi. Using the legend of the Zodiac Braves to their advantage, the demons encased within the Holy Stones brought forth carnage and destruction to those who chanced come across them. By merging their own soul with the demon inside the stone, the wielder of the Holy Stones became the physical incarnation of the Lucavi. It would seem that with such tremendous power and the right vessel to use accordingly, there was to be no stopping the Lucavi from using Ivalice's inhabitants for their own ends.

If not for the efforts of one courageous boy...

The legends were false. The rumors and myths, they were all nothing but lies. This war was not suppressed by the supposed savior of Ivalice, it was actually further entangled by his own greedy ambitions and selfish desires. This man was the true puppeteer, masked from the public attention and outcry by the very war that was going on. Veiled in its secresy, he slowly began his rise to the top. His goal was not that of the people who suffered in the war, but for his own ideals. The struggle against the Lucavi was unbeknownst to him, and therefore unimportant. There would be no one who could stop his inevitable success.

There is but one true hero, the true savior of the people...

Delita Hyral and all he accomplished was just a big lie. He took advantage of those who put trust in him, and used that as his weapon. The greatest weapon of all is truly that of trust. With the trust of one, you have a friend. With the trust of many, you have an army. But with the trust of all, you have a legacy. The people were fed the blatant lies by the Church of Glabados. Lies of how Delita finally was able to quell the fires of the Lion War and restore Ivalice to peace and prosperity. Left behind in the annals of history was the true hero, a young man who believed only in unrepentant justice.

He is the savior, the warrior of the people, borne from aristocracy, raised by battle, victor by will.

Ramza Beoulve. He was just a boy, but comandeered a vast amount of respect from those who followed him. He had the trust of some of the mightiest figures of that period of Ivalice history. From the mighty Temple Knight Meliadoul Tingel, to the omnipotent Thunder God Cidolfas Orlandu, they all followed Ramza's pure vision of delivering justice to those who continued to wrong the world of Ivalice. Ramza bore the heart of a true warrior, not bound by the corrupted politics of the nobles or the selfish wishes of the mercenaries. Ramza only fought because he felt that he was needed. No one who joined in Ramza's crusade ever questioned his intentions, knowing deep down that they were justified. Ramza never once mentioned a hint of regret of what he was doing, he truly believed he was doing what was right. Foolish to some, awe-inspiring to others, and for one, captivating...

What a warrior fears is only suppressed by what they care for...

"Everyone, we need to get some rest." Ramza said to his group. "We've still got a long way to go." Said the boy earnestly.

Ramza surveyed his troops. They looked to be thouroghly fatigued from their long journeys. He went over to each of them, checking on their health and any injuries they had sustained during the many battles past.

"This looks fairly serious." Ramza said with a hint of worry.

"It's nothing, please do not be alarmed, Lord Ramza." The Lancer, Jacob replied, wincing faintly at a gash on his arm.

"It's not nothing." Ramza said indignantly. "Amy, please come over here and help him."

"At once, Lord Ramza." The Priestess Amy obeyed fervantly. With a wave of her staff, a soothing light enveloped the young Lancer and began to slowly close the wound.

"You shouldn't burden yourself with such a trivial injury my Lord." Jacob said. "We mustn't waste valuable energy."

"But you're wrong, Jacob." Ramza told the Lancer.

"The lad is right you know." An older voice chimed in. "You should listen well to the words of your commander."

"Yes, of course, Lord Orlandu." Jacob replied sheepishly.

"So my boy," Orlandu said, turning to Ramza. "How much longer do you think it will take to reach our destination?"

"I figure it will be a day or so more of traveling." Ramza replied. "I apologize for pushing all of you so hard, but I must save my sister."

"Not at all, Ramza." Meliadoul chimed in. "We don't blame you for wanting to save Alma, at least, I don't anyway..."

Ramza smiled a half smile and went over to the Divine Knight, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I'm very sorry about Izlude..." He said dejectedly. "I promise you his death won't go unavanged, I'll make sure of it."

"You need not concern yourself with my personal problems, Lord Ramza." Meliadoul told him. "This is something I myself must handle."

"I can't simply ignore this Meliadoul." Ramza interrupted. "We're all in this together. Your ordeals are ours as well, and we shall overcome them, one at a time. I refuse to turn a blind eye to the plight my comrades are undergoing, what kind of leader would I be if I did such a thing?"

Meliadoul looked up at Ramza, her eyes a bit misty.

"I...I thank you, Lord Ramza." Said Meliadoul. "I hope we can save your sister, I truly do."

Ramza nodded to Meliadoul and turned his attention to another of his comrades.

"Agrias." Said the boy.

"Hmm?" The Holy Knight, Agrias Oaks, mumbled, turning around and facing her commander. "What is it, Lord Ramza?"

"Are you feeling well? You haven't said a word all night. Is something bothering you?"

"I am fine, Lord Ramza, you worry far too much." Agrias said.

"We're going to save Ovelia." Said the Beoulve lad out of nowhere.

"'Save?' Agrias replied with a piqued curious tone in her voice. "What is there to save her from? She has embraced her life as that scoundrel's betrothed."

Ramza looked away and sighed dejectedly. Agrias quickly cooled her tone and bowed to her commander respectively.

"Forgive me for speaking ill of your friend, Lord Ramza, I was out of line."

"No no," Ramza said. "You're right Agrias, I just still find it hard to believe Delita is actually doing this when something much bigger is going on."

"He is oblivious to our struggle, Lord Ramza. Only we know the true nature of this war. He still believes this is just a war of nations." Agrias pointed out.

"Yeah, I know." Ramza agreed. "Let's just forget about it, okay? It's not really something I like to talk about."

"Why not?" Meliadoul said. "You share in our burdens, so why can't we share in yours?"

"It's just..." Ramza trailed off.

"Don't look so down, Lord Ramza." The female Wizard Tiffany, another of Ramza's trusted soldiers, said assuringly. "You're our leader, we follow you, so we should share in your hardships, just as you do ours."

"That's right!" Piped the Monk, Brandon. "Cheer up, my Lord!"

Ramza looked over his troops, and his grimace soon returned to that same innocent smile Ramza always liked to portray.

"Thanks everyone, that means alot to me."

"Hrmm..." Agrias mumbled, crossing her arms and turning away once more.

"Hey, Agrias, now what's wrong?" Brandon asked curiously.

"It's not your business." Agrias spat.

"Sheesh, what a grouch..." Brandon muttered lowly, almost to himself.

"Did you say something?" Agrias said, shooting an evil glare over her shoulder at the pugilist.

"What if I did?" Brandon said defiantly, shooting to his feet in a huff.

"Don't make me cut you down." Agrias said in a threatening tone, placing her hand on her sword hilt.

"Hey, any time, any place." Brandon answered proudly, bringing his deadly fists up to his face.

"Enough, the both of you!" Ramza shouted. "There will be no infighting in this group! Is that clear?"

Both Brandon and Agrias stood down accordingly. When he wanted to, Ramza could command his troops with the same intensity and drive of any battle hardened general. Perhaps the most compassionate soldier who ever took up the sword, he allowed his comrades the freedom to do as they pleased, but still instilled them with enough discipline that they never disobeyed his orders. He was able to maintain a perfect balance of camaraderie and control. While still a boy at the young age of nineteen, Ramza Beoulve was well respected amongst his fellow soldiers. He fought alongside them as their equal, never once straying into the rear to merely command from afar as some overseers might do. Always was he on the front lines with the other melee fighters. He trusted in their strength and vigor to keep himself alive, and countlessly had his trust payed off. That also could be said of his troops. They too drew their seemingly relentless power from the pure will of their commander. This power was almost limitless in its plentiful supply, and it had proven its worth time and again.

These people were not simply the pawns or grunts for Ramza to use and then simply throw away. They were his friends, their trust gained from the fiercest of tribulations, strengthened with each battle, and constantly tested with every passing day. Never once did a soldier in Ramza Beoulve's brigade regret their decision of joining his ranks. He trusted them, and that trust was returned tenfold.

"The night is growing thinner." Orlandu pointed out. "We should all be fast asleep by now."

"Yes, Orlandu is correct." Ramza said. "Everyone, please get some rest."

Later that night...

Ramza sat awake by the dwindling campfire, still looking over his group. They had all gone to sleep, and were resting soundly. Ramza looked at each one of them with a shy grin. To think that he alone commanded all of them was quite overwhelming for the Beoulve lad. But deep down, Ramza knew that they were people, just as he himself was. They were human beings, from all walks of life. Their ranks mattered not, they all stood as one single unit, never leaving anyone behind, always tending to each other's safety and well being. It was safe to assume that Ramza Beoulve commanded the strongest army in all of Ivalice. Morale was never an issue with this party, they all regarded each other in high spirits and got the same in return.

"Hmm?" Ramza said, looking over at two of his comrades. It was Jacob, the Lancer, sleeping on his side. His silver dragonic armor reflected the light from the fire onto the person sleeping next to him. It was the Priestess, Amy. She too was fast asleep, with her head resting on Jacob's shoulder. Ramza smiled at the two shyly, silently hoping the best for them.

Ramza well understood the concept of love and its affect on those in the field of battle. He knew that love could begin and thrive anywhere, be it the calmest town or the bloodiest warzone. There was no written law of the concept of human emotions. Nobles, peasants, knights, mercenaries, this was another matter in which rank and status had no place in. Ramza understood that if something like this were to develop within his ranks, he would welcome it, as that would only further enhance the bonds in which his soldiers felt with one another.

Ramza then looked over at Agrias, who was sound asleep against a mighty tree trunk. Ramza saw that the tree was made of oak, and silently laughed to himself at the irony of it. His laughter was soon quelled when he saw what he saw every night. The one thing he had for many nights past seen Agrias continue to embrace: her sword.

Agrias always slept with her sword at her side, never letting it go. This made Ramza feel a bit sad, and take pity on the Holy Knight. He knew of her past, he had even tried to help her with it, but there was no stopping her fate. Agrias had lost Ovelia, even though she had sworn to protect her. And now Ovelia was living content as the wife of Delita. Agrias had lost her way, finding purpose now only as she continued to tread along with Ramza's group. Ramza hated seeing Agrias as she was. All the Holy Knight ever thought about, all she ever talked about, was war. She fumed of how she hated it, yet at the same time relished in the sheer amount of energy she possessed as she fought. Ramza didn't approve of her hypocritical notions, but also dared not to intervene in her personal life. Whether it be from respect or just that same feeling of pity, Ramza had never once tried to reach out to Agrias.

Tonight, however, was going to be an exception...

Ramza quietly crept over to the sleeping Agrias, stepping lightly over his other sleeping comrades. When he finally reached the Holy Knight, he stopped as he stood over her sleeping form. He knelt down and reached for her sword to take it from her grasp, but stopped. Something was distracting him from his objective. His eyes widened in sheer awe. Ramza was completely dumbfounded.

Agrias looked so...innocent.

This surely wasn't the same Agrias that Ramza knew. She didn't possess the usual scowl that always seemed to have itself etched on her person. Her face was at ease for once, and Ramza couldn't help but stare. Ramza always knew that she was beautiful, but without her veil of indifference, she looked truly stunning. The Beoulve boy felt his heart begin to race. Ramza didn't know what was going on in his mind, but he thought of one thing and one thing only. He had to touch her face. He had to feel her skin. He didn't know why, but he didn't seem to want to find a good reason to object to it anyway. All he could think about was touching her. His mind kept demanding he do it, repeating the command over and over again, hammering it into his conscious.

Removing the chain gauntlet from his right hand, Ramza set it on the ground and slowly inched his bare palm toward Agrias' face. As it neared its destination, Ramza felt his face turning a bright crimson. He didn't know what he was doing, but couldn't stop himself from finding out.

"Stop it Ramza..." The boy muttered to himself. "Just stop..."

But ever forward his hand crept. Ramza closed his eyes, preparing for the worst. Agrias would surely awaken and see all of what Ramza was doing. She would be furious at him, perhaps even lash out at him. But Ramza didn't seem to care.

Then, it happened.

Ramza felt his hand touch skin, and he slowly opened his eyes, expecting to see Agrias glaring at him angrily. But it wasn't what he thought it would be. Agrias was still sound asleep. Her soft breaths came out from her mouth and hit Ramza's hand, tickling his every sense. Agrias' face felt so tender and warm, like that of a newborn leaf. Her skin was laden with all sorts of small scars from her years as a Knight, but this only intruiguied Ramza even further. The Beoulve kept gliding his hand over Agrias' features, his heart nearly pounding right out of his chest. It was so addicting to Ramza, to feel the warmth that Agrias for so long had kept to herself. It was selfish of him to do so while she was sleeping, however, he kept at it.

"Enough...I have got to stop..." He muttered.

But yet, he couldn't. Ramza was savoring every lasting minute of this, right down to the smallest millisecond.

Ramza was starting to feel lightheaded. After what seemed to be an eternity of carressing Agrias' face, he finally pulled his hand away and stumbled backwards, gasping for breath. Agrias started to stir, prompting the young boy to snatch up his gauntlet and dash back to his own resting area. He plopped down on the ground and turned away from the rest of the group, quietly belitting himself to sleep.

"I'm such an idiot...what was I thinking!" Ramza fumed, closing his eyes in frustration.

Agrias' left eye slowly opened, squinting over at Ramza. With little to no sound, she moved her sword away from her body and placed it on the side of the tree. She then brought a free hand to her face and kept it there. She could still feel her skin tingling.

What is it that we warriors fear? The Holy Knight began to brood to herself...

What can we, those bred from birth to be soldiers, expect to gain from having fear?

Do we fear battle?

Of course not. We are artists of war. The battlefield is our canvas, and we paint a picture of grim death and carnage with our weapons. We take in stride those we have cut down before us, using their deaths to keep us humble, but at the same time, honoring their departing souls to keep us from becoming unrepentant murderers. That is what seperates us from the scoundrels of the world. We have meaning in our slayings. There is nothing to fear from battle, as there is no reason to do such a thing. I am one with the battlefield, and it is one with me. There is little else that gives me such wondrous feeling of power. I am strong, and because of this, I remain in this tainted world of decadence and deceit, with my sword at my side. My blade is my vessel to convey my strength to those who stand against me. I endow my every ounce of spirit into my sword, and that is what has kept me alive for such a very long time. I've seen thousands upon thousands of battles, and every time, I thank the heavens I was blessed with such a prowress for war.

Do we fear death?

To many, death is the ultimate price one must pay for their dedication to the art of war. They fear and loathe death, wincing as they near its embrace. I despise cowards such as that. As a warrior, death is just a part of the grand scheme, just the same as a sworn allegiance is. You cannot run from death. Be you the strongest knight or the most powerful king, death will come for you, someday, somehow. You can either cower in shame at its beckoning, or you can welcome it with open arms. I choose the latter. Death does not scare me, and when my time eventually does arrive, I'll gladly forfeit everything and be taken away from the field of battle. I will not resist nor hide, as both are equally futile. Those who do run are despicable weaklings who have no place whatsoever on the field of battle. I will not run, not now, not ever.

Do we fear betrayal?

This is the breaking point for a number of those who have overcome their fear of death. To be misled by those who they put their trust into can drive even the best of warriors to insanity, or even suicide. It is true that one must be loyal to their lord, but true loyalty should only remain for one person: themself. I will serve those who command me without a question or doubt, but my true loyalty lies only with me. In that sense, it can never be misplaced, lost, or broken. I am my own fortress, standing ever vigilant against the tides of war, never crumbling when all seems bleak. When others fall, I remain. When they are betray or are betrayed, I still remain loyal, to myself.

Trust among comrades is as equally assanine as that of the fear of death. Today's ally could very well be tomorrow's enemy, and vice versa. Any true warrior is abreast of that fact. You may think you know a person, but when all is said and done, you realize you know very little of what said person is actually capable of doing. When you are betrayed by those you call "friends," you feel lost. That is just the first step of inevitable self destruction. One can only gain when nothing is sacrificed. If you don't sacrifice your trust to others, then you can never lose it. It is one of the most basic principles of war.

But yet, this boy, this knave called Ramza Beoulve, he goes against everything I know. He may not realize it, but I can read him like an open book. He fears battle, but yet he leads a mighty platoon of Ivalice's most powerful warriors, including myself. He fears death, but never backs down from a fight, no matter how treacherous it may be. He has been betrayed time and again by those close to him, but refuses to break. He shatters every code of a true warrior, but he also rewrites them. To say Ramza Beoulve confuses me is an understatement. I feel...captivated by him...drawn to him, for some reason or another. It is beyond mere curiousity, something that, for the longest time, I could not place.

But now, I feel...different. He is my commander, but also, my "friend." I would never be his pawn, but he has never once viewed me as such. I have never felt that Ramza would betray me. He has always been there for me, from the time I lost Ovelia, up until now. That same naive boy continues to remain at my side. It makes me feel...how can I put this...safe. I've never felt like this in all my time in the knighthood. I can put my full trust into Ramza, knowing that he will never misuse it. He only wants justice, nothing more, nothing less. Money and power do not matter to him, he disavows any such material and political possession. If nothing else, I have the deepest and utmost sense of admiration for him, but with this feeling of his gentle hand still fresh on my skin, that sense of admiration is slowly starting to develop into something much more...

On this very night, at this very moment, I have found out why the young Beoulve lad captivates me so.

It is a very complicated feeling, but I am almost completely sure of what it is. But it is absurd beyond comprehension as to why I, a Holy Knight, could feel such a thing for a knave like this. It frustrates me to no end at how I am rethinking all of my views on what a warrior is, just because of him.

A knight needs not these feelings of compassion, there is no place for them on a battlefield, nor will there ever be.

That is what I have told myself for such a very long time. Now I see that I really was mistaken. This feeling is not a hindrance, and it certainly isn't a burden. It is exactly the opposite, it fills me with a new vigor that I have never once felt before in all of my life. While still a bit confusing, perhaps even frightening at points, I'm learning to like this new feeling that continued to envelop every ounce of my body and soul. I never want this feeling to go away, I want it to be here for the rest of my days.

...So that's it...

That is what a warrior truly fears.

We fear loss.

A general term, but it truly explains our plight. If we lose our true place in the world around us, we become meaningless. Death is but a nuisance that will remove us from our misplacement, as such there is no reason to fear it. Battle is a determining factor in what could be and what is lost, which is why we as warriors fight so hard to prevent any such thing from occuring. And betrayal, while always devastating, can not even begin to match what it feels like to lose our purpose. We can never lose our place, as then we will lose ourselves and everything around us. That is pure self destruction, and leads to an agonizing life and a meaningless death in obscurity.

War is not my true place, nor is the knighthood. I've deluded myself for far too long. I am truly grateful to this young man, Ramza Beoulve. He has given me a real place, not that of the temporary and fleeting feeling that battle has, for so long, kept me sated. Perhaps this place really is the most important of all, surpassing anything I've believed to the contrary. I will remain in this place for as long as possible, as it has finally given me a true shred of meaning that I can call my own. This is no one's place but mine. My meaning, and mine alone.

Ramza Beoulve, he is my meaning, and I will stay at his side. For his sake, and also, for my own.


I truly thank you from the bottom of my heart, Ramza, please allow me the honor of remaining with you, as you have given me something that is irreplaceable.

Agrias closed her eyes once more and returned to the realm of those that slumber. Her meaning renewed and restored, Agrias felt like a completely new woman. She no longer felt the feelings of displacement and distress she had up until this fateful night. Now she felt her true calling in life, and she heeded that call with great dignity. Agrias would remain devoted to one person and one person only: Ramza Beoulve.

The next morning...

"Lord Ramza, it is time to wake up now." Ramza could hear the voice of Jacob enter his ears. The Beoulve sat up with a start and let out a large yawn. Looking around, Ramza saw that nearly everyone in the group was already awake and ready to depart.

"Forgive me for sleeping so late." Ramza said as he got to his feet.

"It's no bother, lad." Orlandu said, trying to stifle a laugh.

"What is so funny Orlandu?" Ramza asked curiously.

"Well," Orlandu started. "You would've been the first one we awoke, but we didn't want to disturb Lady Agrias, you know how she gets when she's in one of her moods."

"Huh?" Ramza said as he scratched his head in confusion. Looking down, Ramza saw what Orlandu was talking about.

"Oh, my..." The boy stuttered.

Agrias still lay sound asleep, her head propped up comfortably on Ramza's cape. Her sword was still at the tree trunk where she was the previous night.

"Uh..." Ramza bumbled. "...A...Agrias?"

Agrias stirred a bit, then her eyes fluttered open. The Holy Knight sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"A good morning to you, Lord Ramza." Agrias said curtly as she got up. "Please pardon my rudeness in using your trusty cloak for my pillow, it was very imprudent of me to do such a thing without your permission."

"N...no, not at all Agrias!" Ramza said flusterdly. "D...did...did you sleep well?"

"Indeed." Agrias replied. "I think that was the best sleep I've had in months."

"I'm...glad I could help...?" Ramza said confusedly. Agrias merely shook her head and chuckled.

"It is already midday, my Lord, shall we get going?" The Holy Knight offered.

"Yeah, let's go." Ramza said, turning to his troops. "Okay everyone, move out!"

All of Ramza's comrades began marching onward to their destination. Ramza, as usual, was the last to leave, making sure no one was left behind. As he made sure the last of his recruits were on their way, he too was about to set off, but stopped when he saw that Agrias had left her sword against the tree trunk. He hurried over to it and scooped the blade up in his hands.

"I can't believe Agrias almost forgot this..." Ramza said.

"I didn't forget." A voice said behind him. Ramza turned around.

"Agrias!" Exclaimed the boy.

"Come now, Lord Ramza, you honestly believed I would leave behind my trusty blade, didn't you?"

"Uh...well...I guess so...sorry..." Ramza said with a hearty laugh as he offered the sword to her. She took it in her hands and nodded.

"Let's go." Ramza said.

"One thing first, my Lord." Said Agrias, prompting Ramza to stop once more and look back at her.

"What is it?" Ramza asked innocently.

Before he knew what was happening, Agrias had set her sword down and raised her hand to the boy's face, caressing it with her bare palm.

"A...Agrias...!" The boy stuttered, his face beginning to become flushed once again.

"Such a child." Agrias said with a sly grin as she removed her hand and recovered it with her gauntlet. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to disturb a lady as she sleeps?"

"You...you were awake!" Ramza exclaimed in pure panic, to which Agrias nodded.

"Oh no..." The boy stammered, turning away from Agrias.

"Stupid Ramza!" He shouted at himself in his mind.

"Are you quite done with your show of embarrassment, my Lord?" Agrias questioned. Ramza turned to look at her once more, preparing for his fate...

"I'm so sorry Agrias..." Ramza apologized profusely. "I don't know what came over me...I hope you're not angry..."

"Perhaps you too would feel a bit agitated if someone practically raped you in your sleep, my Lord." Agrias poised.

Ramza's eyes shot wide open.

"Oh god..." Ramza moaned, burying his face in his hands. "I'm sorry..."

"Ha ha ha." Agrias laughed heartilly. "You are so easy to frustrate, my Lord. I was only joking."

"You...you were...?" Ramza said with a sigh of relief, knowing that his life had been spared for another day.

"I was." Agrias reassured him. "To be perfectly honest, I actually enjoyed it..."

"Huh? You enjoyed it?" Ramza said in shock.

Agrias smiled at him slyly once again.

"But don't let it go to your head." Said Agrias. "You haven't wooed me over just yet."

"I...I never...I mean I..." Ramza trailed off.

"We'll just leave it as it is for now." Said the Holy Knight. "There are much more important matters that we must attend to."

"Y...Yes, of course." Ramza spoke again. "Let's get going, we've already fallen behind the others."

"You are right, let us go."

Agrias picked up her sword once more and left the area, with Ramza in close proximity.

As a warrior, I only fear losing my place in this world. I will do whatever I can to make sure that never happens. Fear shall not make me weaker, it will only make me further appreciate what I have now.

We, as warriors, our places secure, have nothing at all to fear.

'Fin