***Author's Notes***
Here's the completed version of the chapter. I've done some proofreading (well, if you could call skimming it once and trying to find superficial flaws proofreading).
As always, the notes and replies have been replaced.
Also, the genre of this fic will now be Drama/Romance. The story is really beginning to lean that way.
***Author's Notes***
Chapter 02-12 "Conflict of Interests" (Chapter Two: The Manipulator and the Subservient, Scene 12)
The cardinal arrived at the chapel alone. Nodding fatherly at Ovelia, he walked up to them. "You've done well Macaulay," he told the young squire that was Agrias' guide, dismissing him. Wordlessly, the squire paced away, his shoulders slumping as his duty was done and he was now free until someone found a use for him again.
The cardinal looked around, examining the people in the pews, gazing calmly at them. He turned to faced the chapel's entrance; he saw several families beginning to assemble, looking upon him. He lifted his hand at them benevolently, and several of the children broke formation from their parents' sides to rush the cardinal. The older children looked bored as they stayed back, looking as if their attendance wasn't voluntary.
Ovelia and Agrias made way for the little ones, happy to see children around them. Ramza stood his ground, watching them run around him, intrigued by their spontaneity and joyful intensity. Mustadio chuckled, sitting in a pew by the aisle, and making playful gestures with his hands at the little children who had not swarmed the cardinal yet.
Ramza noted how the cardinal doted affection on the children. It seemed kindly, grandfatherly, but he thought he saw something else. It almost looked like casual contempt to Ramza, which confused him. The way Draclau kneeled and blessed the children was suspect.
"Cad-nal, Cad-nal!" one of the children said, tugging more insistently on Draclau's robes than the others. "Who are they?" the boy asked.
Ovelia smiled at him, noting his worn clothing. By the redness that covered his skin, she could tell that his parents had just forced him to bathe. "I'm a princess," she told him gently, feeling embarrassed.
"Really?!" several exclaimed in unison.
Agrias had a soft smile on her face. Normally she viewed children as devilspawn, but that was upon seeing them from a distance and just thinking about -and judging- them. Now that they were in her immediate vicinity, she couldn't see them as she had before.
"Mm-hmm," Ovelia hummed to them. "And this is one of the knights who protect me," she continued, pointing her right hand at Agrias.
"Huh?" one of the children said. "But isn't your knight supposed to be a prince?"
"Yeah!" the other children agreed.
Mustadio was the first to begin chuckling as Ramza kept his hilarity to himself, which earned him a glare from Agrias as she interpreted the implication.
"Oh!" Ovelia said, shocked. Then she began to giggle. "She's not my prince charming," she assured them, feeling uncomfortable, and then pointed Ramza out. "But he is her knight," she remarked coyly, adding an obvious tone that the little ones were guaranteed to pick up.
"Ooh!" the children collectively cooed.
"She's blushing!" a boy obnoxiously called out.
"Meanie!" a girl chided him.
It wasn't that the children tormented her, but Agrias did feel completely embarrassed. "Make it stop. . ." she mouthed tiredly.
Ramza shook his head at her. He nudged his head towards the knot of anxious parents who looked on, their interest in such important figures overridden by concern for their offspring. Agrias recognized some of them as soldiers from the barracks she had found Ramza in. "So that's why they fight. . ." she murmured to him.
***
With the number of people in the chapel worshipping, and the nature of the case being presented, Draclau led them into a side room of the chapel, which was the actual priest's office. For a simple man that the cardinal was lauded to be, it did seem ornate, but it had more dignity with its aging furnishings than opulence.
From the other side of a round table meant for several people, he regarded them sagely. From his robes he procured a bundle of scrolls.
Everyone arranged themselves, with Agrias taking Ovelia's left side while Ramza took her right, and beside him was Mustadio.
Making his opening statement, Draclau lifted his gaze from the bundle of scrolls to Agrias. "I understand your situation Agrias," he said simply.
A brief pause followed, as Agrias wondered what would happen then. The statement could have meant everything or nothing; a pledge of total support, or bait to leave her open. She blinked that line of though away harshly.
"Moreover," Draclau continued, "I'll send a man to the High Priest in Murond."
Ovelia sucked in a gasp at the mention of the head of Ivalice's Church. Long ago, the island remainder of Murond had gone completely autonomous, having no liege lord, but a priest who controlled a massive corps of shrine knights -zealots and templars who fought for The Lord, not the semi-fanatic holy orders throughout the rest of the land who served mortal lords.
Draclau caught Agrias' eye, nodding. She shivered in fear. As much as she hated it, she was sending Ivalice into war. Withdrawal was always an option, Agrias knew, and her allegiance to the crown almost wavered. With the involvement of the 'Army of St. Ajora,' only total war was sure.
The Church, the Nobility, and the Peasantry were going to be involved in a triumvirate of slaughter that would leave Ivalice scarred even worse than how the Fifty Years' War mangled the land that saw her birth, childhood, adolescence and her lost of innocence.
Her thinking drowned out Draclau's immediate following statement until she blurted a question -one that was unnecessary. "Will High Priest Funeral help us?" she asked.
Draclau regarded her casually, almost with humor. "Don't worry Agrias," he told her, firm in his tone, a hard edge in his sunken eyes, "I'm with you." He changed his tone, almost as an afterthought. "You must be strong to make the princess feel at ease. Make yourselves comfortable in this old castle until word comes from the Holy Land."
How? Agrias wanted to ask. War couldn't be stopped. . . but I'm helping to start it. God. . . I didn't want this. . . she thought, the urge to cry beginning to be felt. Turning to her right, she saw Ramza openly looking at her. At that moment, she wanted to touch him, and her emotions screamed at both herself and him to do something, to reach out, just so that she could feel comfort. Anything that would make her feel better. . .
Even Ovelia noted her discomfort, as the princess' speech was slurred. "Thank you for your kindness," she spoke with a tone of confusion, feeling surreal as she was beginning to recognize what Draclau was implying by throwing the Church into Ovelia's camp.
Draclau let some of his emotions show, revealing a man who was tired. "St. Ajora is with us," he remarked slowly, having trouble putting conviction in his voice as he told them, "don't worry." Clearing his throat, he turned his attention to Mustadio, who had lingered in the back of the group, having retreated there. "Young mechanic," the cardinal said firmly, "I heard your wish too."
Ramza felt bothered, noticing as he winced, that it wasn't that the way the cardinal looked at issues was different from his, but that Draclau treated it in a cavalier manner. The rogue Beoulve thought that his former liege lord, Larg, could still be openly brought up on charges, but that would leave the other lion, Goltana, with the hunting grounds to himself. The church's corps were crack troops -most of whom were ex-soldiers- but they were not numerous. On the flipside, neither lion could ever claim moral superiority against the Church, who would doubtlessly have no trouble raising troops from the peasantry, if not outright converting existing military units.
"I'll send troops to Goug to destroy Bart Company," Draclau remarked casually, as if it was easy as ordering a soldier to hit the town on pay day.
"Thank you. . ." Mustadio replied, his tone astonished.
Unreal, Ramza agreed with the mechanic's feelings of surprise and confusion.
"But," Draclau replied, proverbially trapping Mustadio, "would you explain why they're after you too?" The question that Mustadio would not even tell the princess.
"I. . . can't. . ."
Agrias almost snarled. She knew she was upset, and she grew annoyed at how stupid Mustadio was being.
Draclau smiled thinly. "That's all right," he told him, as he reveals a ruby sphere that encased a burgundy stone. "Is this it?" he asked rhetorically.
"What is that crystal," Agrias blurted out, wondering why the cardinal had such interest in a fancy decoration; even she was not that attached to jewelry.
"Have you ever heard of the 'Zodiac Brave Story?'" Beneath her stress was the feeling that he was treating them much the same way he did the children. It wasn't a favorable comparison in her eyes. No adult really took that saying literally.
"You mean that fairy tale we used to hear in church?" Agrias winced and her voice shrank even before her sentence was finished. She had just played into his hands, and she knew it when she saw that smile on the cardinal's face.
"Here now!" the cardinal admonished mildly, as if trying to guide her. "Are you saying the church lied?"
Agrias was trapped, and Ramza saw it. Even if the cardinal was being benevolent, he felt that the man was going too far. They were in his thrall, and the man was almost toying with them - and there was the thought where Ramza believed the cardinal almost callous, cavalier about what may happen.
"N-no," Agrias replied, startled, "I didn't mean that. . ."
Ramza wanted to intervene, but knew that he was not expected to speak until spoken to. Like most, he found the idea of simply being there with almost no active role bothersome.
However, Ovelia stepped in, beginning to recite. "Long ago, when the land was much different, twelve brave warriors fought against the evil Lucavi (1*) who ruled the land. After a desperate battle," she continued, taking a breath, "they sent Lucavi into Hades and the land was peaceful." She was beginning to get an idea of what Draclau was implying. Her voice began to slow, and it was not because she was forgetting what it was she was repeating from memory. "They each had crystals with zodiac signs on them; they were called 'Zodiac Braves.' Ever since then, whenever humans are attacked, the Braves come to save us. . ." she trailed.
"You're quite learned Princess. Just as I expected."
Agrias frowned at that statement. It bordered on the patronizing.
"Mr. Simon taught me at the Orbonne Monastery." Ovelia felt like she was being interviewed by a tutor. Appraisement was a situation she was never comfortable in. It never stopped, but she was able to shield herself from most of the interest that people tried to hide about her. She brought up something else that she remembered, which she guessed was why Draclau had revealed the strange sphere. "He also said St. Ajora and the Braves saved Ivalice from chaos."
As one, Agrias and Ramza's hearts went cold. A weapon, they simultaneously concluded, trading glances.
"We call the crystals 'Holy Stones.'" Draclau confirmed. "This very stone," he paused and hefted the sphere he held, "is the legendary secret stone, the 'Zodiac Stone.'"
With a hint of disbelief, Ovelia replied, "I didn't think it really existed." She began to think just how important a decision it was to sheleter Mustadio.
"They say the stone's 'Divine Power' surpasses Lucavi's." Draclau could not keep out the contempt in his voice. The Lucavi were the devils that everyone was taught to fear and hate. A topic that Ramza found questionable in a way of living based on love and kindness. "I feel a strange power, but it looks like an ordinary crystal to me," the cardinal reflected.
"What's wrong, Mustadio?" Ramza asked deliberately, knowing that now was the window of opportunity to get the engineer to talk. So this is why he's said nothing. . . Ramza concluded. "You look pale," he commented, feeling disdain at himself that he was resorting to such an approach.
Draclau provided the extra pressure. With the same caring appearance he had for his flock, the cardinal regarded him. "You saw the same stone underground Goug?" Again, it was in the same voice with which Draclau spoke to children.
Mustadio knew he could not hide it any longer, so he gave in. "Many broken machine parts are buried there," he began. "But if the stone," he paused, "gets near the machines, they start to howl."
Power? Ramza stated through his eyes towards Agrias, who was now looking at the engineer. As she blinked, he almost felt her reply.
"Bart Company's after the stone, right?" the cardinal continued persistently, but softly, like he would coddle a child into confessing what was wrong. First, you had to make the subject comfortable, unafraid of reprisal. . .
Mustadio's voice quickened. "I don't know what power the stone has. . . but Rudvich," he named Bart's owner, "wants to use its power to make weapons." That confirmed Ramza's thoughts. "My father told me never to give the stones to him. So," he said defeatedly, "they abducted him."
Agrias' upset state was growing stronger again as she saw what was in Ramza's crimson eyes; the transformation from calm to excited, yet keeping the same nonchalant façade.
She knew he was going to leave, but not with the shade of death in his eyes. Blood would out, and Ramza cared little if it was his or theirs - so long as he accomplished his mission. She thought back to others that resembled some of his traits -all of them dead. They all shared one feature before she saw them before the battles in which they fell - that expression in their eyes.
She could not stop him. She did not have the authority. Not anymore. . . she thought, feeling afraid, paranoia, anxiety, and what she felt about Ramza overriding her logic.
"Don't worry Mustadio," Draclau assured him. "The church will see to his safety." Unceremoniously, he followed, "While our men fight, we'll get the stone back."
Unaware of anything to say, finding the experience surreal, Mustadio just shrugged. "Y-yes, sir."
Nodding at Agrias, and painfully shutting out the image of horror reflected in her eyes and her beloved visage, Ramza stepped forwards. "I'll go to Goug with you," he informed Mustadio, indifferent to how the boy seemed relieved by his words. The cardinal's your only real support here, Ramza wanted to say, not Ovelia, nor Agrias, nor I.
She knew she wasn't being completely rational, but Agrias knew that she could not turn Ramza back. Within a day or two, he would leave - that was his nature, and she suddenly came to one line of thought that she had not considered in the few days -a week that spanned eternity- that she spent in his company. It was he that would slip out of her grasp.
Agrias wondered why it felt as if he was leaving her. Then, reality came crashing in. As she expected, within several days he would be gone. And all she could do at the castle while he courted death was pray.
Torn, Agrias moved from where she had anchored herself at Ovelia's side. "We made it this far thanks to you, Ramza," Agrias said numbly, unable to say more.
Feeling Agrias' unease, Ovelia concurred. "I wish I could've been more help," she said. "Please be careful." Even she winced at that, knowing that her words had probably sent a shard of terror into Agrias' heart.
Surprised, Ovelia could only stare as Ramza did not have eyes for her. His eyes. They frightened her. Even his (2*) eyes were not that intense.
"That's very thoughtful," Ramza said in a flat tone. "Don't worry. We'll be fine."
Agrias wanted to strike out at him.
***
After the meeting was concluded, Ovelia left with the cardinal to tour the castle personally. Since the cardinal had no guards accompanying him, and it was clear to Agrias that it was going to be a discussion that was best left unheard, she did not protest when Ovelia dismissed her.
I am a soldier, Agrias repeated to herself. I serve, I do not rule.
She was still upset. Before, she had only marched and fought where she was ordered. Now, she was becoming part of the process that would likely drag Ivalice into civil war. On a different emotional line, she feared for Ramza.
Angry that a man would affect her like that, taking away from her sense of duty, Agrias chose to focus some of her anger at him. She knew she was being irrational, but that knowledge did not alleviate her anxiety.
As she scanned the chapel for Alicia and Lavian, she noticed that they must have already finished. She lonely, and looking back at the rows of lit candles that were in the back of the chapel, she noticed that Ramza and Mustadio had already left.
Retreating to one of her most solid foundations, Agrias walked to one of the pews, kneeled, and began to pray.
***
"Where are we going?" Mustadio asked. "Shouldn't we have waited for them. . ."
Ramza just continued to walk down the corridors. "The details aren't for us to know. They also need time."
"Oh. So, where are we going?"
Ramza pointed to a group of guards. "I'm trying to find someone who can lead us to the armory. Both of us need to upgrade."
"We're going to be equipped this quickly?"
"The faster to save your father,"
Mustadio did not like that statement, and he threw back, "I thought Agrias was going to be the one that outfitted you."
Ramza shrugged, nodding his head as another armored squire on sentry duty came to attention. He turned his head to look at Mustadio sidelong. "She has her own concerns. It is best if she is not bothered."
"If you say so." Helplessly, Mustadio could only take Ramza at his word.
"Sir?" the squire asked. "Is there anything you need?"
"Could you tell me how to get to the armory?"
"Which one sir? The armourer or the armory?"
Thinking for a moment, Ramza shrugged. "I require both."
"Pretty or functional?" the soldier put bluntly. Mustadio had expected him if anything to ask how much money Ramza would spend. "Um, sir," the man continued after realizing his slip.
"Something a soldier would use. I'll trust someone the soldiers would with their lives."
The guard chuckled. Turning around, he hollered down the hallway. "Anderson, please, show them to the smith."
***
Upon reaching one of the blacksmiths -there were several in Lionel Castle- Ramza found himself being greeted familiarly, the middle-aged, scrawny smith who resembled a bookkeeper more than a metal shaper.
"Don't worry," the blacksmith told him in a friendly manner, pointing to a young female archer -Ramza guessed from her cut-off gloves and oversize boots- who gave Ramza a belittling smile, though her heavy breathing ruined it.
"Some woman -Agrias-" the archer panted, her short auburn hair mussed, "told me to tell you that the cardinal's decided to bankroll you - a bonus or something." She paused for a moment, giving the blacksmith a grateful look as he gave her a pitcher of water with a cup attached by a string. "Almost broke my neck running here," she muttered. "Also, the cardinal commented that he hopes if you don't mind if we outfit you as a dragoon. If you're going to be mounted on chocobo, a spear is better than a sword."
"I'm not as proficient with the spear as I am with the sword." Ramza cocked his head towards Mustadio. "He needs body cover too, as well as a backup weapon."
"You're the gun-boy?" the archer regarded Mustadio warily, who carefully nodded, now painfully aware of the weight on his hip. "Can you handle a bow?"
Mustadio gave her a look, and she laughed. "A dagger will do - I guess. A plain one's best since you'll have less to worry about if you cut yourself."
"Sarah, refrain," the smith admonished her.
Ramza had stepped up to the man. "I'm sorry, but would it be best if we started now?"
"One of my assistants can take care of him. . . first, let's get you measured."
"Um, Mr. Ramza, I'm going to have to run back and tell them that you received the message," Sarah pointed out. "Is there anything you want me to relay?"
"I appreciate it," Ramza told her. "There's nothing I could say that would mean anything to the cardinal. . . could you tell Agrias that-" he trailed off as he saw that Sarah had already began to sprint away.
"I'll send her your love!" she called back.
Ramza could only stare as Mustadio busted out laughing.
***
Rising from the pew, Agrias had to make a decision. As he respected her to fulfill her duty, she would have to relinquish some control to him so that he could do his. Even if she felt that he was seeking his death.
If that meant separating herself, then she would do it.
He too, had his role to act out, and if he was trying to get her attention, then let him.
She suppressed her resistance to such a thought.
The fact was, Ramza knew that he was straining her, yet he continued upon his path. He may or may not have had the choice to change his conduct, but the point was he did not.
Bitterness aside, Agrias felt that it was what she needed to do. No use fussing over what I can't help, she thought to herself. She looked over at the closed door that lead to the chapel's office. Hypocrite, her conscience accused. (3*)
***
"He said what?" Agrias replied coldly. She has made sacrifices before, and they were never times that she cherished. Yet, they were necessary. The smile the other woman had only served to harden what she had already concluded:
Duty came first.
Agrias had never possessed any vices, so she did not have experience with things getting in the way. All her life, she had devoted herself to something, a cause outside of herself. Somewhere she belonged.
Why did I even think there was something in him? Agrias asked herself.
Feeling awkward, Sarah stepped back. "I'm sorry. . ." she said, "I just assumed."
"Everyone has." Agrias knew why it hurt to say that, but she suppressed it.
"He's going to be in the armory for a while," Sarah told her.
Agrias just nodded.
"None of you know the layout of the castle," Sarah commented, "so, if you want to go see him-"
"I'll be at our quarters," Agrias explained.
Sarah just stopped trying.
***
"Aren't you cold?" Mustadio was wondering why Ramza, sitting shirtless on a stool in a fitting room with several squires, was not shivering. While Mustadio was still fully clothed, Ramza had given his clothes - which he told the smith was custom tailored to him - to the armory's staff. All he wore now was a gray towel at his waist.
Ramza shrugged. It had already been an hour, and yet he still did not have any goosebumps. "You get used to it."
"Why is it so cold here?"
"We're underground," one of the squires spoke.
"Which is why the air is thicker here," Ramza surmised.
"And stronger too," another squire joked.
"Mr. Ruglia?" a female squire poked her head into the room, giving the men a malicious smile that deflated any egos they may have had to that point. "We're ready for the next step now. The tanner is here."
***
"Mr. Ruglia, you have got to be one of the few people that came in here that we could fix up this quickly," the tanner commented.
"Excuse me?"
"Your clothing," the smith joined in. "They were made to be fitted with armor on - specified for your body especially. All we had to do was to make some traces."
"It can't be that fast. The last time I was-"
"Was your first, too," the smith interrupted. "Pardon," he excused himself. "Your bronze armor was a piece of work. Crude, but effective." He turned to the tanner. "It was too. With the shape it was in. . ." he turned to Ramza. "Just what kind of action have you seen?"
Ramza shrugged. "Small-scale engagements. Most hits were minor." He hefted the arm that had been hit by an arrow. "The damage was minor and there was a healer there."
"I'll chalk that up to the healer, not this," the blacksmith commented.
"You mean you didn't feel them touch you," the female squire directed at Ramza.
The smith agreed. "She's right. Good as it is, with all the stress fractures that I've found on the inside, this thing would've cracked pretty soon."
"How bad will it be?" Ramza clarified himself. "I'm going to depart soon -within several days. What can I expect?"
"It won't be perfect, but it'll be better than a pot."
***
Over his thin linen tunic, Ramza had been given a pair of sleeves that extended up his arms and tied into his hands at one end, and to each other behind his back. They felt rough, but it was only because of the items durability. These would prevent the metal he would soon wear from chafing him. He wouldn't rely on heavy folds of reinforced cloth anymore. He stood by the smith's office. It wasn't a room in itself, but an organized, very clean space set aside in a corner of the man's forge/armory. Sarah introduced him as Mr. Venn, novice armourer. The furniture was sparse: rought-cut, thick, and sturdy, made from oak.
It turned out that outfitting Mustadio had been child's play. He had even maintained his color scheme of yellow and blue, trimmed in leather red. No custom fitting was required; the soldiers had let Mustadio run free through the selection like a child. He still had a yellow shirt, but it was like Ramza's now: loose, baggy -for ventilation- and thick. It looked large, but they were designed to be difficult to snag. The material was thin in the proper section, but it was thick on the sections of the arm away from major joints. It would cushion, and serve as padding against the heavier pieces of equipment worn. The actual 'armor' was a conspicuous vest of sewn mithril scales with a distinct azure hue. The scales were large and chevron-shaped, not interlocking. There was internal wiring within to reinforce the weave. The pants were of the same canvas-like materials as the shirt, dyed blue. His gloves now were thin around the fingers - so that he could still manipulate objects with dexterity, but there was metal plating on the wrist. He now wore proper battle boots, and by their oversize nature, Ramza guessed that there was likely a dirk hidden in each.
To top it all off, Mustadio had gotten a blue archer-style hat with a feather, and within that hat's lip was a metal band.
"Now, if they always went for the centers of mass. . ." the smith quipped. "Reason why full-body armor exists."
"Every little bit helps," Mustadio said helplessly.
Turning his attention back to the smith, Ramza asked, "What can you accomplish in such little time?"
The man shrugged. "Your case is as hopeful as it can be. First, we have all your measurements and we can measure the features of your used armor. Second, you're going to be armored as a dragon. That's mostly leather anyway. Its not going to fit like a glove, and it won't be pretty, but it'll work."
"Good enough," Ramza concurred.
***
Ramza felt snug in his leather cuirass. The near-black leather fit him comfortably, although he felt much warmer than he did before in his shell of purpled bronze. It covered his upper torso, just barely covering the top half of his stomach, meant to protect his chest, upper back, and around the shoulders. It also served as the foundation piece of the rest of his upper protection. Around his waist an even thicker ring of leather that wrapped around his abdomen. It was of multiple layers of leather, and within was a band of mithril scales.
His leather leggings he did not know the name of. Simply that they actually had straps that extended over his waistpiece to lock onto his cuirass. His legwear extended all the way down to his calves, they ended, underneath a pair of thin socks tucked within, and then the steel-toed boots came in. These rose halfway up his hip before their straps reached up and locked around a belt he wore.
He could tell that the soles were incredibly solid, and Ramza could feel just how much leather he was wearing on his legs alone.
"Did they use a whole dragon's hide?" a knight commented, laughter in her eyes. "Crazy dragoons," she commented.
"Which is why we have all these straps tying them up to your waist and chest," the tanner had told him. "Red dragon would explain the shade. It looks constrictive, but its tailored to transfer some of the load to your upper back and abdominals.
"Its not substitute for plate or even mail," Mr. Venn told him. "But its been treated to be tough."
"The cardinal's special stock, dragon skin - leather, whatever you call it," the tanner commented. "Its been enchanted - just a little. It's a wee bit more resistant to physical and magic attacks."
"The metal wouldn't be the same way, would it?" Ramza inquired half- heartedly.
"It doesn't need it," Venn quipped.
Ramza looked on as the tanner turned to his peer and berated him. "You don't have to be so arrogant."
"No. . ." Ramza disagreed. "If he had no confidence in his work, he has no business being near a hammer."
***
While the smith molded and hammered his future metal shell, Ramza was encouraged to run through a set of maneuvers by himself, testing out each section of his leather layers. He was please since the dead weight he moved with his legs only felt twice as much - instead of the minimum six- fold it must have been.
Still, Ramza knew, running would kill him. He had never been trained to wear a full suit of armor. He had not advanced that far, and it was only in the massed bloodbaths that such troops met.
"You act like you were trained to be a knight, but now you're a mercenary. Plus, you're too young to have been in that war." the female knight from earlier commented. She had introduced herself as Tabatha, and she was in the armourer's forge to repair her armor as well as have it adjusted -which none of the males chlose to comment on, especially since her hand was on the haft of her sword as she told them about her situation.
"I was, in the Hokuten" Ramza told her, and before she could ask, he continued, "my only real experience then was chasing bandits, and the steel just slowed us down."
The woman snorted. "Thieves?" she had a laugh at that. "You're right, I would never have caught them."
Ramza shook his head. "They were Death Corps, actually." He noted from the way the woman's smile died that he had struck a nerve. He did not excuse himself.
"Is that why you left?" she asked him soberly.
"I'm not that noble," Ramza said, trying not to find irony in his statement. "I was forced into a decision where instead of acting for better or for worse, I simply stood back and let it all fall apart."
"Ramza was your name, right?"
"Yes."
"Beoulve," Tabatha said out loud. She began to chuckle. "Ramza? Ramza Beoulve!"
Keeping still, Ramza just remained silent.
"I wasn't introduced to you face to face, but someone did point you out when I was visiting the Gariland academy about four years back. So, you did run away." She rose, having a confused look on her face. "If you're worried about it, don't; I'm not going to give you away."
Ramza shook his head. "It really doesn't matter."
She shook her head. "If the rumors are true, and you did fight the Hokuten, I think its more complicated than that."
Shrugging Ramza stared into his gloved hands, wondering why they were made so light -without any metal backing, beginning to feel warm. The heat that he wasn't experiencing was not because of the layers of leather that he wore over linen. \
"Well, at least you're not making excuses," she remarked, giving up on trying to get an answer from him."
"I left because my conscience would not let me stay as I was. . ."
Tabatha frowned, appraising him again. "A noble who left everything over a question of morals?" She almost began to laugh, but she caught herself, thinking about her voiced postulate. "The only thing I found wrong with that is that it's the nobles like you that should be in power. . ."
Dully, Ramza replied, "I've thought about that." He shrugged. "I feel more satisfaction just serving instead of ruling."
The knight appeared to ponder, and told Ramza, "We'll have to talk about this again. You're brothers aren't exactly that popular either. . ."
"Are you implying that I should claim the Hokuten?"
"If you meant what you said about serving." She shrugged. "You only fought them because they were committing treason -you were justified; it was you who was in the right. I'm not pledging myself to you, but, if you really are true to your conscience, how can you do the most good to benefit everyone. You can serve best by ruling, or at least, making sure its good people who rule."
"Truth hurts," Ramza admitted. "It's a duty I know I might have to fulfill someday. I don't think I'm that strong a person. My brothers. . ."
"You have a heart," Tabatha assured him. "When you return from Goug, we'll talk about this again. I'm going to be busy along with the rest of the soldiers."
"Its only going to accelerate the situation if the mobilization is obvious. There can still be a diplomatic solution, but Queen Ruvelia isolated herself."
"We're all praying for it," Tabatha said, shivering.
***
"There's a whole castle and countryside to explore, and you stayed here?" Agrias said as she entered their quarters, knowing as she saw soft humming coming from the knights' bedroom.
Reclining on a small bed tucked into a corner of the room, Lavian wore a pale yellow sundress, the skirt reaching past her knees as she sat with her legs tucked underneath her on a cushion. Agrias felt some envy, staring at the classical beauty that Lavian was. From a distance at least. The few years of service had taken their toll. Where Lavian should have appeared to be a maiden, barely above a score in age, she had a mature appearance now. Lavian began her career a little after Agrias'. The difference: she was enlisted whilst Agrias had attended an academy.
She still possessed the soft slender lines, her loose dress hiding the conditioned flesh beneath. Lovely would have described Lavian, even with her detached, almost reluctant attitude to socialize. But, Agrias noted, Lavian's hands were as rough as hers.
Like Lavian, Alicia was in her bed, dozing; Agrias could see Alicia's toes wiggling in annoyance as the insubordinate knight tried to sleep in.
Looking towards the doorway at Agrias, Lavian shrugged. "Fatigue is finally catching up with us. I'm finding myself more and more tired every day."
Alicia snored.
***
Still wearing her armor in its formal state, Agrias sat on a short stool, staring at a wall, wondering how she had come to this state: having nothing to do, except to think, and trying not to think about the upcoming bloodbath -if everything goes wrong, Agrias told herself.
Politely, Ovelia had dismissed her, and Agrias had to acquiesce. The cardinal could protect Ovelia far better than she. Agrias would have defeated the man in the field even in his prime decades ago - with or without his allies, Agrias was confident enough to believe- but she couldn't protect Ovelia politically. As Agrias grunted, she wondered why she felt a small pang of jealousy. I hope I'm not developing a complex of responsibility, Agrias grumbled to herself. Its nothing, she's been in danger, and its understandable that you'd be paranoid - it's your duty! she concluded.
She had not been especially relieved when the cardinal announced that he would dedicate a small detachment of his own men -women, Agrias corrected herself- a mirror image of the bodyguard detail the Order of St. Konoe assigned to Ovelia. Jealousy and pride, she told herself, trying to rationalize her negative feelings. She had no doubt that they would be experienced soldiers, if anything, she knew that they would be all-too- tailored for this role. Knights were good guards, but thieves were even better - knights were visible. Agrias admitted. . . those that were responsible for spying and assassinations would be even more effective at preventing them. Not like they would have been much help, Agrias reflected, thinking about the types of missions that were involved in Ovelia's 'security' as of late, discounting the recent time spent in the castle.
Sighing, Agrias had to admit, to have such petty concerns was a good sign. In comparison to what her fears were before -and her reasons for them- the situation may still be bad, but so much of the responsibility was taken off her hands.
"Agrias?" Alicia spoke with a voice slurred from sleeping. "I forgot to tell you something."
"What is it?" Agrias remarked, standing up and facing the more intense of her knights.
"Forget everything you're thinking about," Alicia yawned. "Back to bed. . ." she murmured, slipping back into her bedroom.
"I will. . ." Agrias said. After a moment of contemplation, and giving up on sorting through the blend of emotion and logic in her mind, Agrias began to unbuckle her armor.
***
Late in the day, the knights lounged about. Out of boredom, Alicia had arranged most of the groups' equipment on the floor, ready to take in for maintenance - should they ever find the will to get up.
"How come healing spells don't get rid of the fatigue?" Alicia commented.
Agrias cracked an eye open. She was surprised that she was beginning to feel drained too. Naps had always done that to her, sapping as opposed to replenishing. "Our bodies have finally caught up with us."
"We've been pushed so hard for the past few days that our bodies are just beginning to adjust to no work, and the fact that we just stopped is a shock." Lavian explained. "Plus, its not exactly damage we are feeling, if anything, the pain you feel is your body healing. Cure isn't as good as we make it out to be. Its good for injuries, but not much more."
"It vitalizes your life force as much as it treats wounds, but sometimes, it isn't enough. . ." Agrias murmured.
"Don't tell me that even white magic can addict people," Alicia commented.
"Excuse me?" This caught Agrias' attention.
Alicia reached over into her satchel and retrieved a bladder with a medical symbol and text painted onto it in black. "I've known people that have been hooked on potions. . . but for the most part, they abuse the ethers."
"Why do you keep pointing out things we don't need to hear?" Lavian brought up.
"Truth's funny." Alicia commented.
I'm not going to tempt fate, Agrias thought, keeping silent.
***
"Ramza's at the armory," Mustadio told the knights. "The people there said they're done with the rough-cut, but they want him around to test what needs to be fixed."
"What?" Alicia yawned, waking up from her nap. "Who's where, how, why, and when?"
Lavian made a calm appraisal of the engineer. "Mithril vest?" she asked.
"Yes," Mustadio nodded his head. "Cardinal Draclau let Ramza and I have access to his armory. I guess since Ramza's going with me to Goug to help me look for my father, the cardinal wanted us to be safer."
"New toys aren't going to save-" Alicia began, but caught herself. "Wait, both of you are going to Goug? But the princess is staying here."
Mustadio nodded. "Oh, is she still talking with the cardinal?" From the cushion Agrias reclined upon -her armor removed- she nodded, opening her left eye to give the engineer some eye contact. She nodded. Mustadio shrugged. "Well, Ramza said that he would follow me."
"I assume the cardinal will send some troops to accompany you." Lavian probed.
"I think so. In a couple of days, ready or not, I'm setting out for Goug to save my father," Mustadio declared.
Agrias ignored the glare Alicia gave her. "I hope you'll stay safe," she told him dully.
"Goug's my hometown. Now that I have the backing of the cardinal, I'm not going to stop for anything that keeps me rescuing my father from those thugs. When the people catch wind of what's happening, then others will jump in too."
Agrias lifted her hand from where it rose from the cushion, a subtle signal to the others to hold back any choice remarks they would have made at Mustadio's confidence. "Then, can you look out for Ramza too?" She asked.
Mustadio shrugged, "Of course." He was oblivious to the doubt of the others in the princess' suite.
"Do what you can. . ." Agrias remarked, her voice dry. She wanted to be mad at Mustadio just because he was the background cause of this dilemma that she hadn't resolved cleanly. Ramza was bound to push me past the limit. . . Agrias said to herself.
She wanted to not care. Because if she didn't care, it wouldn't hurt so much.
***
***Author's Notes***
Footnotes:
1. Lucavi is referred to as a group of demons, not a single devil. 2. The male being compared to Ramza is Delita. 3. The author was having issues writing. The hypocrite statement implies that Agrias WAS worrying over something she could not help - the future state of Ivalice, war, or no war.
I'm trying to be objective plot-wise as the moment, and the rest of this chapter went on to begin the foundations of what would happen in Goug after Ramza splits off by himself.
Keep in mind, the only entities his party at this point are Mustadio and Boco. Of the former, I am thinking I am not including into the story enough, but then again, he might as well be an ACC to me - and as to them. . . yes, I notice I am falling into the trap of giving them bigger and more influential roles.
Still, its assumed that they will be receiving an escort of soldiers. Meaning, the battle at Zigolis Swamp does NOT need to occur. I am still debating the role of that battle since it is insignificant.
As to the armor thing. Yes, I know I am obsessing over it.
As of now, I am trying to write thin detail since I just want to move the story along, so expect to see sparser narration in comparison to the dialogue.
It was sort of fun writing Agrias and Ramza off on their own.
To answer the obvious, yes, Agrias is pissed. To make it worse, Ramza will not back down; they haven't even talked about it yet. . .
On the bright side, it only took about a single 'scene' to go over the day. Next scene will cover the second night @ Lionel Castle.
***Author's Notes***
***Readers' Response Corner***
Here's my reply to Demolisher: (Please don't harass this person)
To the one with the name of demolisher:
Zing! Owwie. . .
With that out of the way. . . yes, you are correct. Let's address the one that hits hardest first:
Yup. I want my story to stay on page one. Thank you fractal submissions. In this, I am shameless.
BETA readers I do not use. I've given up on the idea of pre-readers since my first (real-life friends) have disappointed me, and I don't edit my chapters before posting.
The one time I picked up an editor per-se, the guy GOT INVOLVED in my writing, insisting on elements I did not want in there.
Moment it is completed - it is sent.
The matter of grammar:
*I write in a hurry. *I am lazy. *More often than not, I don't even proofread anymore.
Focusing on the its and it's issues, I've always ignored that. I've learned English more or less phonetically and literally. I fazed out any memory of elementary school English classes. I've given up and went to 'its' as the catch all for both words.
It would be thoughtful on my part, but I've always figured 'fuck it.'
This is Harvey's problem concerning plot:
He's writing a FRIGGIN HUGE volume of text that spans a matter of days.
With the same amount of writing, most authors would have gone into a year or so of storyline.
Look at the correlation.
Its the way I like to write. Its not a matter of ability to change -its my contentment with my anal retentiveness concerning detail and the fact that I've spent days writing about what happens every goddamn second of a day.
As to how I write the story when the two eventuall get split. . . I don't plan that far ahead tactically and I have no general strategy as to what I will commit to. . .
Man, you have got to be the first person to come down on me this harshly, but hey, it was called for. Surprised it took this long to cheese someone off this far. . . (well, get someone to post as opposed to just toss the story altogether) You've pretty much commented only on the structure of the story, not so much the contents. Then again, many just say 'keep it up' -and those just make me shake my head and sigh.
In fanfiction.net, I've always seen the 'reviews' section as a message board and a guestbook as opposed to actual 'reviews'. Understand this: I am doing this as a partial social exercise. I WANT to start conversations with people who read the story.
I am immature. Intellectual, but that does not mean I will act accordingly.
I figured the biggest reason you reviewed was because I was being too much of a little prick as an author, haven't I(?), as opposed to the actual story-text.
Seeing as I believe in aggression and taking the initiative, I can't agree with your platitude.
Sorry if I'm snapping back. I have been defensive throughout this. Eesh, if anything, I expected you to ding me for actually making my notes into a pseudo-message board as well.
Hell, to be honest, its when I go back and edit my own works myself that I just get frustrated and stop. Yep, I was expecting to be out of Lionel (the whole province) by chapter 8 or 9 from when I first started writing. . . yes, there are overruns.
-Harvey Bautista
P.S. Yes, this will be in the update's RRC. Your review (of sorts) was too damn good (really) to not reply to.
I know I'm really asking to get blasted:
Can you come up with a more detailed review based more on the story?
The rest of the RRC:
Moving onto the others. . . yes, I realize I am focusing too much on the romance. I'm starved for affection and have no experience: thus my frustrations seep into my writing.
Well, Highwaywoman, Agrias does want to stop Ramza, but again, nothing she can really do outside of being unreasonable. Her solution, cut him off emotionally so she doesn't feel pain when he leaves and should anything happen to him.
It happens. Its unfair by and for both sides, but it does happen.
Here's the completed version of the chapter. I've done some proofreading (well, if you could call skimming it once and trying to find superficial flaws proofreading).
As always, the notes and replies have been replaced.
Also, the genre of this fic will now be Drama/Romance. The story is really beginning to lean that way.
***Author's Notes***
Chapter 02-12 "Conflict of Interests" (Chapter Two: The Manipulator and the Subservient, Scene 12)
The cardinal arrived at the chapel alone. Nodding fatherly at Ovelia, he walked up to them. "You've done well Macaulay," he told the young squire that was Agrias' guide, dismissing him. Wordlessly, the squire paced away, his shoulders slumping as his duty was done and he was now free until someone found a use for him again.
The cardinal looked around, examining the people in the pews, gazing calmly at them. He turned to faced the chapel's entrance; he saw several families beginning to assemble, looking upon him. He lifted his hand at them benevolently, and several of the children broke formation from their parents' sides to rush the cardinal. The older children looked bored as they stayed back, looking as if their attendance wasn't voluntary.
Ovelia and Agrias made way for the little ones, happy to see children around them. Ramza stood his ground, watching them run around him, intrigued by their spontaneity and joyful intensity. Mustadio chuckled, sitting in a pew by the aisle, and making playful gestures with his hands at the little children who had not swarmed the cardinal yet.
Ramza noted how the cardinal doted affection on the children. It seemed kindly, grandfatherly, but he thought he saw something else. It almost looked like casual contempt to Ramza, which confused him. The way Draclau kneeled and blessed the children was suspect.
"Cad-nal, Cad-nal!" one of the children said, tugging more insistently on Draclau's robes than the others. "Who are they?" the boy asked.
Ovelia smiled at him, noting his worn clothing. By the redness that covered his skin, she could tell that his parents had just forced him to bathe. "I'm a princess," she told him gently, feeling embarrassed.
"Really?!" several exclaimed in unison.
Agrias had a soft smile on her face. Normally she viewed children as devilspawn, but that was upon seeing them from a distance and just thinking about -and judging- them. Now that they were in her immediate vicinity, she couldn't see them as she had before.
"Mm-hmm," Ovelia hummed to them. "And this is one of the knights who protect me," she continued, pointing her right hand at Agrias.
"Huh?" one of the children said. "But isn't your knight supposed to be a prince?"
"Yeah!" the other children agreed.
Mustadio was the first to begin chuckling as Ramza kept his hilarity to himself, which earned him a glare from Agrias as she interpreted the implication.
"Oh!" Ovelia said, shocked. Then she began to giggle. "She's not my prince charming," she assured them, feeling uncomfortable, and then pointed Ramza out. "But he is her knight," she remarked coyly, adding an obvious tone that the little ones were guaranteed to pick up.
"Ooh!" the children collectively cooed.
"She's blushing!" a boy obnoxiously called out.
"Meanie!" a girl chided him.
It wasn't that the children tormented her, but Agrias did feel completely embarrassed. "Make it stop. . ." she mouthed tiredly.
Ramza shook his head at her. He nudged his head towards the knot of anxious parents who looked on, their interest in such important figures overridden by concern for their offspring. Agrias recognized some of them as soldiers from the barracks she had found Ramza in. "So that's why they fight. . ." she murmured to him.
***
With the number of people in the chapel worshipping, and the nature of the case being presented, Draclau led them into a side room of the chapel, which was the actual priest's office. For a simple man that the cardinal was lauded to be, it did seem ornate, but it had more dignity with its aging furnishings than opulence.
From the other side of a round table meant for several people, he regarded them sagely. From his robes he procured a bundle of scrolls.
Everyone arranged themselves, with Agrias taking Ovelia's left side while Ramza took her right, and beside him was Mustadio.
Making his opening statement, Draclau lifted his gaze from the bundle of scrolls to Agrias. "I understand your situation Agrias," he said simply.
A brief pause followed, as Agrias wondered what would happen then. The statement could have meant everything or nothing; a pledge of total support, or bait to leave her open. She blinked that line of though away harshly.
"Moreover," Draclau continued, "I'll send a man to the High Priest in Murond."
Ovelia sucked in a gasp at the mention of the head of Ivalice's Church. Long ago, the island remainder of Murond had gone completely autonomous, having no liege lord, but a priest who controlled a massive corps of shrine knights -zealots and templars who fought for The Lord, not the semi-fanatic holy orders throughout the rest of the land who served mortal lords.
Draclau caught Agrias' eye, nodding. She shivered in fear. As much as she hated it, she was sending Ivalice into war. Withdrawal was always an option, Agrias knew, and her allegiance to the crown almost wavered. With the involvement of the 'Army of St. Ajora,' only total war was sure.
The Church, the Nobility, and the Peasantry were going to be involved in a triumvirate of slaughter that would leave Ivalice scarred even worse than how the Fifty Years' War mangled the land that saw her birth, childhood, adolescence and her lost of innocence.
Her thinking drowned out Draclau's immediate following statement until she blurted a question -one that was unnecessary. "Will High Priest Funeral help us?" she asked.
Draclau regarded her casually, almost with humor. "Don't worry Agrias," he told her, firm in his tone, a hard edge in his sunken eyes, "I'm with you." He changed his tone, almost as an afterthought. "You must be strong to make the princess feel at ease. Make yourselves comfortable in this old castle until word comes from the Holy Land."
How? Agrias wanted to ask. War couldn't be stopped. . . but I'm helping to start it. God. . . I didn't want this. . . she thought, the urge to cry beginning to be felt. Turning to her right, she saw Ramza openly looking at her. At that moment, she wanted to touch him, and her emotions screamed at both herself and him to do something, to reach out, just so that she could feel comfort. Anything that would make her feel better. . .
Even Ovelia noted her discomfort, as the princess' speech was slurred. "Thank you for your kindness," she spoke with a tone of confusion, feeling surreal as she was beginning to recognize what Draclau was implying by throwing the Church into Ovelia's camp.
Draclau let some of his emotions show, revealing a man who was tired. "St. Ajora is with us," he remarked slowly, having trouble putting conviction in his voice as he told them, "don't worry." Clearing his throat, he turned his attention to Mustadio, who had lingered in the back of the group, having retreated there. "Young mechanic," the cardinal said firmly, "I heard your wish too."
Ramza felt bothered, noticing as he winced, that it wasn't that the way the cardinal looked at issues was different from his, but that Draclau treated it in a cavalier manner. The rogue Beoulve thought that his former liege lord, Larg, could still be openly brought up on charges, but that would leave the other lion, Goltana, with the hunting grounds to himself. The church's corps were crack troops -most of whom were ex-soldiers- but they were not numerous. On the flipside, neither lion could ever claim moral superiority against the Church, who would doubtlessly have no trouble raising troops from the peasantry, if not outright converting existing military units.
"I'll send troops to Goug to destroy Bart Company," Draclau remarked casually, as if it was easy as ordering a soldier to hit the town on pay day.
"Thank you. . ." Mustadio replied, his tone astonished.
Unreal, Ramza agreed with the mechanic's feelings of surprise and confusion.
"But," Draclau replied, proverbially trapping Mustadio, "would you explain why they're after you too?" The question that Mustadio would not even tell the princess.
"I. . . can't. . ."
Agrias almost snarled. She knew she was upset, and she grew annoyed at how stupid Mustadio was being.
Draclau smiled thinly. "That's all right," he told him, as he reveals a ruby sphere that encased a burgundy stone. "Is this it?" he asked rhetorically.
"What is that crystal," Agrias blurted out, wondering why the cardinal had such interest in a fancy decoration; even she was not that attached to jewelry.
"Have you ever heard of the 'Zodiac Brave Story?'" Beneath her stress was the feeling that he was treating them much the same way he did the children. It wasn't a favorable comparison in her eyes. No adult really took that saying literally.
"You mean that fairy tale we used to hear in church?" Agrias winced and her voice shrank even before her sentence was finished. She had just played into his hands, and she knew it when she saw that smile on the cardinal's face.
"Here now!" the cardinal admonished mildly, as if trying to guide her. "Are you saying the church lied?"
Agrias was trapped, and Ramza saw it. Even if the cardinal was being benevolent, he felt that the man was going too far. They were in his thrall, and the man was almost toying with them - and there was the thought where Ramza believed the cardinal almost callous, cavalier about what may happen.
"N-no," Agrias replied, startled, "I didn't mean that. . ."
Ramza wanted to intervene, but knew that he was not expected to speak until spoken to. Like most, he found the idea of simply being there with almost no active role bothersome.
However, Ovelia stepped in, beginning to recite. "Long ago, when the land was much different, twelve brave warriors fought against the evil Lucavi (1*) who ruled the land. After a desperate battle," she continued, taking a breath, "they sent Lucavi into Hades and the land was peaceful." She was beginning to get an idea of what Draclau was implying. Her voice began to slow, and it was not because she was forgetting what it was she was repeating from memory. "They each had crystals with zodiac signs on them; they were called 'Zodiac Braves.' Ever since then, whenever humans are attacked, the Braves come to save us. . ." she trailed.
"You're quite learned Princess. Just as I expected."
Agrias frowned at that statement. It bordered on the patronizing.
"Mr. Simon taught me at the Orbonne Monastery." Ovelia felt like she was being interviewed by a tutor. Appraisement was a situation she was never comfortable in. It never stopped, but she was able to shield herself from most of the interest that people tried to hide about her. She brought up something else that she remembered, which she guessed was why Draclau had revealed the strange sphere. "He also said St. Ajora and the Braves saved Ivalice from chaos."
As one, Agrias and Ramza's hearts went cold. A weapon, they simultaneously concluded, trading glances.
"We call the crystals 'Holy Stones.'" Draclau confirmed. "This very stone," he paused and hefted the sphere he held, "is the legendary secret stone, the 'Zodiac Stone.'"
With a hint of disbelief, Ovelia replied, "I didn't think it really existed." She began to think just how important a decision it was to sheleter Mustadio.
"They say the stone's 'Divine Power' surpasses Lucavi's." Draclau could not keep out the contempt in his voice. The Lucavi were the devils that everyone was taught to fear and hate. A topic that Ramza found questionable in a way of living based on love and kindness. "I feel a strange power, but it looks like an ordinary crystal to me," the cardinal reflected.
"What's wrong, Mustadio?" Ramza asked deliberately, knowing that now was the window of opportunity to get the engineer to talk. So this is why he's said nothing. . . Ramza concluded. "You look pale," he commented, feeling disdain at himself that he was resorting to such an approach.
Draclau provided the extra pressure. With the same caring appearance he had for his flock, the cardinal regarded him. "You saw the same stone underground Goug?" Again, it was in the same voice with which Draclau spoke to children.
Mustadio knew he could not hide it any longer, so he gave in. "Many broken machine parts are buried there," he began. "But if the stone," he paused, "gets near the machines, they start to howl."
Power? Ramza stated through his eyes towards Agrias, who was now looking at the engineer. As she blinked, he almost felt her reply.
"Bart Company's after the stone, right?" the cardinal continued persistently, but softly, like he would coddle a child into confessing what was wrong. First, you had to make the subject comfortable, unafraid of reprisal. . .
Mustadio's voice quickened. "I don't know what power the stone has. . . but Rudvich," he named Bart's owner, "wants to use its power to make weapons." That confirmed Ramza's thoughts. "My father told me never to give the stones to him. So," he said defeatedly, "they abducted him."
Agrias' upset state was growing stronger again as she saw what was in Ramza's crimson eyes; the transformation from calm to excited, yet keeping the same nonchalant façade.
She knew he was going to leave, but not with the shade of death in his eyes. Blood would out, and Ramza cared little if it was his or theirs - so long as he accomplished his mission. She thought back to others that resembled some of his traits -all of them dead. They all shared one feature before she saw them before the battles in which they fell - that expression in their eyes.
She could not stop him. She did not have the authority. Not anymore. . . she thought, feeling afraid, paranoia, anxiety, and what she felt about Ramza overriding her logic.
"Don't worry Mustadio," Draclau assured him. "The church will see to his safety." Unceremoniously, he followed, "While our men fight, we'll get the stone back."
Unaware of anything to say, finding the experience surreal, Mustadio just shrugged. "Y-yes, sir."
Nodding at Agrias, and painfully shutting out the image of horror reflected in her eyes and her beloved visage, Ramza stepped forwards. "I'll go to Goug with you," he informed Mustadio, indifferent to how the boy seemed relieved by his words. The cardinal's your only real support here, Ramza wanted to say, not Ovelia, nor Agrias, nor I.
She knew she wasn't being completely rational, but Agrias knew that she could not turn Ramza back. Within a day or two, he would leave - that was his nature, and she suddenly came to one line of thought that she had not considered in the few days -a week that spanned eternity- that she spent in his company. It was he that would slip out of her grasp.
Agrias wondered why it felt as if he was leaving her. Then, reality came crashing in. As she expected, within several days he would be gone. And all she could do at the castle while he courted death was pray.
Torn, Agrias moved from where she had anchored herself at Ovelia's side. "We made it this far thanks to you, Ramza," Agrias said numbly, unable to say more.
Feeling Agrias' unease, Ovelia concurred. "I wish I could've been more help," she said. "Please be careful." Even she winced at that, knowing that her words had probably sent a shard of terror into Agrias' heart.
Surprised, Ovelia could only stare as Ramza did not have eyes for her. His eyes. They frightened her. Even his (2*) eyes were not that intense.
"That's very thoughtful," Ramza said in a flat tone. "Don't worry. We'll be fine."
Agrias wanted to strike out at him.
***
After the meeting was concluded, Ovelia left with the cardinal to tour the castle personally. Since the cardinal had no guards accompanying him, and it was clear to Agrias that it was going to be a discussion that was best left unheard, she did not protest when Ovelia dismissed her.
I am a soldier, Agrias repeated to herself. I serve, I do not rule.
She was still upset. Before, she had only marched and fought where she was ordered. Now, she was becoming part of the process that would likely drag Ivalice into civil war. On a different emotional line, she feared for Ramza.
Angry that a man would affect her like that, taking away from her sense of duty, Agrias chose to focus some of her anger at him. She knew she was being irrational, but that knowledge did not alleviate her anxiety.
As she scanned the chapel for Alicia and Lavian, she noticed that they must have already finished. She lonely, and looking back at the rows of lit candles that were in the back of the chapel, she noticed that Ramza and Mustadio had already left.
Retreating to one of her most solid foundations, Agrias walked to one of the pews, kneeled, and began to pray.
***
"Where are we going?" Mustadio asked. "Shouldn't we have waited for them. . ."
Ramza just continued to walk down the corridors. "The details aren't for us to know. They also need time."
"Oh. So, where are we going?"
Ramza pointed to a group of guards. "I'm trying to find someone who can lead us to the armory. Both of us need to upgrade."
"We're going to be equipped this quickly?"
"The faster to save your father,"
Mustadio did not like that statement, and he threw back, "I thought Agrias was going to be the one that outfitted you."
Ramza shrugged, nodding his head as another armored squire on sentry duty came to attention. He turned his head to look at Mustadio sidelong. "She has her own concerns. It is best if she is not bothered."
"If you say so." Helplessly, Mustadio could only take Ramza at his word.
"Sir?" the squire asked. "Is there anything you need?"
"Could you tell me how to get to the armory?"
"Which one sir? The armourer or the armory?"
Thinking for a moment, Ramza shrugged. "I require both."
"Pretty or functional?" the soldier put bluntly. Mustadio had expected him if anything to ask how much money Ramza would spend. "Um, sir," the man continued after realizing his slip.
"Something a soldier would use. I'll trust someone the soldiers would with their lives."
The guard chuckled. Turning around, he hollered down the hallway. "Anderson, please, show them to the smith."
***
Upon reaching one of the blacksmiths -there were several in Lionel Castle- Ramza found himself being greeted familiarly, the middle-aged, scrawny smith who resembled a bookkeeper more than a metal shaper.
"Don't worry," the blacksmith told him in a friendly manner, pointing to a young female archer -Ramza guessed from her cut-off gloves and oversize boots- who gave Ramza a belittling smile, though her heavy breathing ruined it.
"Some woman -Agrias-" the archer panted, her short auburn hair mussed, "told me to tell you that the cardinal's decided to bankroll you - a bonus or something." She paused for a moment, giving the blacksmith a grateful look as he gave her a pitcher of water with a cup attached by a string. "Almost broke my neck running here," she muttered. "Also, the cardinal commented that he hopes if you don't mind if we outfit you as a dragoon. If you're going to be mounted on chocobo, a spear is better than a sword."
"I'm not as proficient with the spear as I am with the sword." Ramza cocked his head towards Mustadio. "He needs body cover too, as well as a backup weapon."
"You're the gun-boy?" the archer regarded Mustadio warily, who carefully nodded, now painfully aware of the weight on his hip. "Can you handle a bow?"
Mustadio gave her a look, and she laughed. "A dagger will do - I guess. A plain one's best since you'll have less to worry about if you cut yourself."
"Sarah, refrain," the smith admonished her.
Ramza had stepped up to the man. "I'm sorry, but would it be best if we started now?"
"One of my assistants can take care of him. . . first, let's get you measured."
"Um, Mr. Ramza, I'm going to have to run back and tell them that you received the message," Sarah pointed out. "Is there anything you want me to relay?"
"I appreciate it," Ramza told her. "There's nothing I could say that would mean anything to the cardinal. . . could you tell Agrias that-" he trailed off as he saw that Sarah had already began to sprint away.
"I'll send her your love!" she called back.
Ramza could only stare as Mustadio busted out laughing.
***
Rising from the pew, Agrias had to make a decision. As he respected her to fulfill her duty, she would have to relinquish some control to him so that he could do his. Even if she felt that he was seeking his death.
If that meant separating herself, then she would do it.
He too, had his role to act out, and if he was trying to get her attention, then let him.
She suppressed her resistance to such a thought.
The fact was, Ramza knew that he was straining her, yet he continued upon his path. He may or may not have had the choice to change his conduct, but the point was he did not.
Bitterness aside, Agrias felt that it was what she needed to do. No use fussing over what I can't help, she thought to herself. She looked over at the closed door that lead to the chapel's office. Hypocrite, her conscience accused. (3*)
***
"He said what?" Agrias replied coldly. She has made sacrifices before, and they were never times that she cherished. Yet, they were necessary. The smile the other woman had only served to harden what she had already concluded:
Duty came first.
Agrias had never possessed any vices, so she did not have experience with things getting in the way. All her life, she had devoted herself to something, a cause outside of herself. Somewhere she belonged.
Why did I even think there was something in him? Agrias asked herself.
Feeling awkward, Sarah stepped back. "I'm sorry. . ." she said, "I just assumed."
"Everyone has." Agrias knew why it hurt to say that, but she suppressed it.
"He's going to be in the armory for a while," Sarah told her.
Agrias just nodded.
"None of you know the layout of the castle," Sarah commented, "so, if you want to go see him-"
"I'll be at our quarters," Agrias explained.
Sarah just stopped trying.
***
"Aren't you cold?" Mustadio was wondering why Ramza, sitting shirtless on a stool in a fitting room with several squires, was not shivering. While Mustadio was still fully clothed, Ramza had given his clothes - which he told the smith was custom tailored to him - to the armory's staff. All he wore now was a gray towel at his waist.
Ramza shrugged. It had already been an hour, and yet he still did not have any goosebumps. "You get used to it."
"Why is it so cold here?"
"We're underground," one of the squires spoke.
"Which is why the air is thicker here," Ramza surmised.
"And stronger too," another squire joked.
"Mr. Ruglia?" a female squire poked her head into the room, giving the men a malicious smile that deflated any egos they may have had to that point. "We're ready for the next step now. The tanner is here."
***
"Mr. Ruglia, you have got to be one of the few people that came in here that we could fix up this quickly," the tanner commented.
"Excuse me?"
"Your clothing," the smith joined in. "They were made to be fitted with armor on - specified for your body especially. All we had to do was to make some traces."
"It can't be that fast. The last time I was-"
"Was your first, too," the smith interrupted. "Pardon," he excused himself. "Your bronze armor was a piece of work. Crude, but effective." He turned to the tanner. "It was too. With the shape it was in. . ." he turned to Ramza. "Just what kind of action have you seen?"
Ramza shrugged. "Small-scale engagements. Most hits were minor." He hefted the arm that had been hit by an arrow. "The damage was minor and there was a healer there."
"I'll chalk that up to the healer, not this," the blacksmith commented.
"You mean you didn't feel them touch you," the female squire directed at Ramza.
The smith agreed. "She's right. Good as it is, with all the stress fractures that I've found on the inside, this thing would've cracked pretty soon."
"How bad will it be?" Ramza clarified himself. "I'm going to depart soon -within several days. What can I expect?"
"It won't be perfect, but it'll be better than a pot."
***
Over his thin linen tunic, Ramza had been given a pair of sleeves that extended up his arms and tied into his hands at one end, and to each other behind his back. They felt rough, but it was only because of the items durability. These would prevent the metal he would soon wear from chafing him. He wouldn't rely on heavy folds of reinforced cloth anymore. He stood by the smith's office. It wasn't a room in itself, but an organized, very clean space set aside in a corner of the man's forge/armory. Sarah introduced him as Mr. Venn, novice armourer. The furniture was sparse: rought-cut, thick, and sturdy, made from oak.
It turned out that outfitting Mustadio had been child's play. He had even maintained his color scheme of yellow and blue, trimmed in leather red. No custom fitting was required; the soldiers had let Mustadio run free through the selection like a child. He still had a yellow shirt, but it was like Ramza's now: loose, baggy -for ventilation- and thick. It looked large, but they were designed to be difficult to snag. The material was thin in the proper section, but it was thick on the sections of the arm away from major joints. It would cushion, and serve as padding against the heavier pieces of equipment worn. The actual 'armor' was a conspicuous vest of sewn mithril scales with a distinct azure hue. The scales were large and chevron-shaped, not interlocking. There was internal wiring within to reinforce the weave. The pants were of the same canvas-like materials as the shirt, dyed blue. His gloves now were thin around the fingers - so that he could still manipulate objects with dexterity, but there was metal plating on the wrist. He now wore proper battle boots, and by their oversize nature, Ramza guessed that there was likely a dirk hidden in each.
To top it all off, Mustadio had gotten a blue archer-style hat with a feather, and within that hat's lip was a metal band.
"Now, if they always went for the centers of mass. . ." the smith quipped. "Reason why full-body armor exists."
"Every little bit helps," Mustadio said helplessly.
Turning his attention back to the smith, Ramza asked, "What can you accomplish in such little time?"
The man shrugged. "Your case is as hopeful as it can be. First, we have all your measurements and we can measure the features of your used armor. Second, you're going to be armored as a dragon. That's mostly leather anyway. Its not going to fit like a glove, and it won't be pretty, but it'll work."
"Good enough," Ramza concurred.
***
Ramza felt snug in his leather cuirass. The near-black leather fit him comfortably, although he felt much warmer than he did before in his shell of purpled bronze. It covered his upper torso, just barely covering the top half of his stomach, meant to protect his chest, upper back, and around the shoulders. It also served as the foundation piece of the rest of his upper protection. Around his waist an even thicker ring of leather that wrapped around his abdomen. It was of multiple layers of leather, and within was a band of mithril scales.
His leather leggings he did not know the name of. Simply that they actually had straps that extended over his waistpiece to lock onto his cuirass. His legwear extended all the way down to his calves, they ended, underneath a pair of thin socks tucked within, and then the steel-toed boots came in. These rose halfway up his hip before their straps reached up and locked around a belt he wore.
He could tell that the soles were incredibly solid, and Ramza could feel just how much leather he was wearing on his legs alone.
"Did they use a whole dragon's hide?" a knight commented, laughter in her eyes. "Crazy dragoons," she commented.
"Which is why we have all these straps tying them up to your waist and chest," the tanner had told him. "Red dragon would explain the shade. It looks constrictive, but its tailored to transfer some of the load to your upper back and abdominals.
"Its not substitute for plate or even mail," Mr. Venn told him. "But its been treated to be tough."
"The cardinal's special stock, dragon skin - leather, whatever you call it," the tanner commented. "Its been enchanted - just a little. It's a wee bit more resistant to physical and magic attacks."
"The metal wouldn't be the same way, would it?" Ramza inquired half- heartedly.
"It doesn't need it," Venn quipped.
Ramza looked on as the tanner turned to his peer and berated him. "You don't have to be so arrogant."
"No. . ." Ramza disagreed. "If he had no confidence in his work, he has no business being near a hammer."
***
While the smith molded and hammered his future metal shell, Ramza was encouraged to run through a set of maneuvers by himself, testing out each section of his leather layers. He was please since the dead weight he moved with his legs only felt twice as much - instead of the minimum six- fold it must have been.
Still, Ramza knew, running would kill him. He had never been trained to wear a full suit of armor. He had not advanced that far, and it was only in the massed bloodbaths that such troops met.
"You act like you were trained to be a knight, but now you're a mercenary. Plus, you're too young to have been in that war." the female knight from earlier commented. She had introduced herself as Tabatha, and she was in the armourer's forge to repair her armor as well as have it adjusted -which none of the males chlose to comment on, especially since her hand was on the haft of her sword as she told them about her situation.
"I was, in the Hokuten" Ramza told her, and before she could ask, he continued, "my only real experience then was chasing bandits, and the steel just slowed us down."
The woman snorted. "Thieves?" she had a laugh at that. "You're right, I would never have caught them."
Ramza shook his head. "They were Death Corps, actually." He noted from the way the woman's smile died that he had struck a nerve. He did not excuse himself.
"Is that why you left?" she asked him soberly.
"I'm not that noble," Ramza said, trying not to find irony in his statement. "I was forced into a decision where instead of acting for better or for worse, I simply stood back and let it all fall apart."
"Ramza was your name, right?"
"Yes."
"Beoulve," Tabatha said out loud. She began to chuckle. "Ramza? Ramza Beoulve!"
Keeping still, Ramza just remained silent.
"I wasn't introduced to you face to face, but someone did point you out when I was visiting the Gariland academy about four years back. So, you did run away." She rose, having a confused look on her face. "If you're worried about it, don't; I'm not going to give you away."
Ramza shook his head. "It really doesn't matter."
She shook her head. "If the rumors are true, and you did fight the Hokuten, I think its more complicated than that."
Shrugging Ramza stared into his gloved hands, wondering why they were made so light -without any metal backing, beginning to feel warm. The heat that he wasn't experiencing was not because of the layers of leather that he wore over linen. \
"Well, at least you're not making excuses," she remarked, giving up on trying to get an answer from him."
"I left because my conscience would not let me stay as I was. . ."
Tabatha frowned, appraising him again. "A noble who left everything over a question of morals?" She almost began to laugh, but she caught herself, thinking about her voiced postulate. "The only thing I found wrong with that is that it's the nobles like you that should be in power. . ."
Dully, Ramza replied, "I've thought about that." He shrugged. "I feel more satisfaction just serving instead of ruling."
The knight appeared to ponder, and told Ramza, "We'll have to talk about this again. You're brothers aren't exactly that popular either. . ."
"Are you implying that I should claim the Hokuten?"
"If you meant what you said about serving." She shrugged. "You only fought them because they were committing treason -you were justified; it was you who was in the right. I'm not pledging myself to you, but, if you really are true to your conscience, how can you do the most good to benefit everyone. You can serve best by ruling, or at least, making sure its good people who rule."
"Truth hurts," Ramza admitted. "It's a duty I know I might have to fulfill someday. I don't think I'm that strong a person. My brothers. . ."
"You have a heart," Tabatha assured him. "When you return from Goug, we'll talk about this again. I'm going to be busy along with the rest of the soldiers."
"Its only going to accelerate the situation if the mobilization is obvious. There can still be a diplomatic solution, but Queen Ruvelia isolated herself."
"We're all praying for it," Tabatha said, shivering.
***
"There's a whole castle and countryside to explore, and you stayed here?" Agrias said as she entered their quarters, knowing as she saw soft humming coming from the knights' bedroom.
Reclining on a small bed tucked into a corner of the room, Lavian wore a pale yellow sundress, the skirt reaching past her knees as she sat with her legs tucked underneath her on a cushion. Agrias felt some envy, staring at the classical beauty that Lavian was. From a distance at least. The few years of service had taken their toll. Where Lavian should have appeared to be a maiden, barely above a score in age, she had a mature appearance now. Lavian began her career a little after Agrias'. The difference: she was enlisted whilst Agrias had attended an academy.
She still possessed the soft slender lines, her loose dress hiding the conditioned flesh beneath. Lovely would have described Lavian, even with her detached, almost reluctant attitude to socialize. But, Agrias noted, Lavian's hands were as rough as hers.
Like Lavian, Alicia was in her bed, dozing; Agrias could see Alicia's toes wiggling in annoyance as the insubordinate knight tried to sleep in.
Looking towards the doorway at Agrias, Lavian shrugged. "Fatigue is finally catching up with us. I'm finding myself more and more tired every day."
Alicia snored.
***
Still wearing her armor in its formal state, Agrias sat on a short stool, staring at a wall, wondering how she had come to this state: having nothing to do, except to think, and trying not to think about the upcoming bloodbath -if everything goes wrong, Agrias told herself.
Politely, Ovelia had dismissed her, and Agrias had to acquiesce. The cardinal could protect Ovelia far better than she. Agrias would have defeated the man in the field even in his prime decades ago - with or without his allies, Agrias was confident enough to believe- but she couldn't protect Ovelia politically. As Agrias grunted, she wondered why she felt a small pang of jealousy. I hope I'm not developing a complex of responsibility, Agrias grumbled to herself. Its nothing, she's been in danger, and its understandable that you'd be paranoid - it's your duty! she concluded.
She had not been especially relieved when the cardinal announced that he would dedicate a small detachment of his own men -women, Agrias corrected herself- a mirror image of the bodyguard detail the Order of St. Konoe assigned to Ovelia. Jealousy and pride, she told herself, trying to rationalize her negative feelings. She had no doubt that they would be experienced soldiers, if anything, she knew that they would be all-too- tailored for this role. Knights were good guards, but thieves were even better - knights were visible. Agrias admitted. . . those that were responsible for spying and assassinations would be even more effective at preventing them. Not like they would have been much help, Agrias reflected, thinking about the types of missions that were involved in Ovelia's 'security' as of late, discounting the recent time spent in the castle.
Sighing, Agrias had to admit, to have such petty concerns was a good sign. In comparison to what her fears were before -and her reasons for them- the situation may still be bad, but so much of the responsibility was taken off her hands.
"Agrias?" Alicia spoke with a voice slurred from sleeping. "I forgot to tell you something."
"What is it?" Agrias remarked, standing up and facing the more intense of her knights.
"Forget everything you're thinking about," Alicia yawned. "Back to bed. . ." she murmured, slipping back into her bedroom.
"I will. . ." Agrias said. After a moment of contemplation, and giving up on sorting through the blend of emotion and logic in her mind, Agrias began to unbuckle her armor.
***
Late in the day, the knights lounged about. Out of boredom, Alicia had arranged most of the groups' equipment on the floor, ready to take in for maintenance - should they ever find the will to get up.
"How come healing spells don't get rid of the fatigue?" Alicia commented.
Agrias cracked an eye open. She was surprised that she was beginning to feel drained too. Naps had always done that to her, sapping as opposed to replenishing. "Our bodies have finally caught up with us."
"We've been pushed so hard for the past few days that our bodies are just beginning to adjust to no work, and the fact that we just stopped is a shock." Lavian explained. "Plus, its not exactly damage we are feeling, if anything, the pain you feel is your body healing. Cure isn't as good as we make it out to be. Its good for injuries, but not much more."
"It vitalizes your life force as much as it treats wounds, but sometimes, it isn't enough. . ." Agrias murmured.
"Don't tell me that even white magic can addict people," Alicia commented.
"Excuse me?" This caught Agrias' attention.
Alicia reached over into her satchel and retrieved a bladder with a medical symbol and text painted onto it in black. "I've known people that have been hooked on potions. . . but for the most part, they abuse the ethers."
"Why do you keep pointing out things we don't need to hear?" Lavian brought up.
"Truth's funny." Alicia commented.
I'm not going to tempt fate, Agrias thought, keeping silent.
***
"Ramza's at the armory," Mustadio told the knights. "The people there said they're done with the rough-cut, but they want him around to test what needs to be fixed."
"What?" Alicia yawned, waking up from her nap. "Who's where, how, why, and when?"
Lavian made a calm appraisal of the engineer. "Mithril vest?" she asked.
"Yes," Mustadio nodded his head. "Cardinal Draclau let Ramza and I have access to his armory. I guess since Ramza's going with me to Goug to help me look for my father, the cardinal wanted us to be safer."
"New toys aren't going to save-" Alicia began, but caught herself. "Wait, both of you are going to Goug? But the princess is staying here."
Mustadio nodded. "Oh, is she still talking with the cardinal?" From the cushion Agrias reclined upon -her armor removed- she nodded, opening her left eye to give the engineer some eye contact. She nodded. Mustadio shrugged. "Well, Ramza said that he would follow me."
"I assume the cardinal will send some troops to accompany you." Lavian probed.
"I think so. In a couple of days, ready or not, I'm setting out for Goug to save my father," Mustadio declared.
Agrias ignored the glare Alicia gave her. "I hope you'll stay safe," she told him dully.
"Goug's my hometown. Now that I have the backing of the cardinal, I'm not going to stop for anything that keeps me rescuing my father from those thugs. When the people catch wind of what's happening, then others will jump in too."
Agrias lifted her hand from where it rose from the cushion, a subtle signal to the others to hold back any choice remarks they would have made at Mustadio's confidence. "Then, can you look out for Ramza too?" She asked.
Mustadio shrugged, "Of course." He was oblivious to the doubt of the others in the princess' suite.
"Do what you can. . ." Agrias remarked, her voice dry. She wanted to be mad at Mustadio just because he was the background cause of this dilemma that she hadn't resolved cleanly. Ramza was bound to push me past the limit. . . Agrias said to herself.
She wanted to not care. Because if she didn't care, it wouldn't hurt so much.
***
***Author's Notes***
Footnotes:
1. Lucavi is referred to as a group of demons, not a single devil. 2. The male being compared to Ramza is Delita. 3. The author was having issues writing. The hypocrite statement implies that Agrias WAS worrying over something she could not help - the future state of Ivalice, war, or no war.
I'm trying to be objective plot-wise as the moment, and the rest of this chapter went on to begin the foundations of what would happen in Goug after Ramza splits off by himself.
Keep in mind, the only entities his party at this point are Mustadio and Boco. Of the former, I am thinking I am not including into the story enough, but then again, he might as well be an ACC to me - and as to them. . . yes, I notice I am falling into the trap of giving them bigger and more influential roles.
Still, its assumed that they will be receiving an escort of soldiers. Meaning, the battle at Zigolis Swamp does NOT need to occur. I am still debating the role of that battle since it is insignificant.
As to the armor thing. Yes, I know I am obsessing over it.
As of now, I am trying to write thin detail since I just want to move the story along, so expect to see sparser narration in comparison to the dialogue.
It was sort of fun writing Agrias and Ramza off on their own.
To answer the obvious, yes, Agrias is pissed. To make it worse, Ramza will not back down; they haven't even talked about it yet. . .
On the bright side, it only took about a single 'scene' to go over the day. Next scene will cover the second night @ Lionel Castle.
***Author's Notes***
***Readers' Response Corner***
Here's my reply to Demolisher: (Please don't harass this person)
To the one with the name of demolisher:
Zing! Owwie. . .
With that out of the way. . . yes, you are correct. Let's address the one that hits hardest first:
Yup. I want my story to stay on page one. Thank you fractal submissions. In this, I am shameless.
BETA readers I do not use. I've given up on the idea of pre-readers since my first (real-life friends) have disappointed me, and I don't edit my chapters before posting.
The one time I picked up an editor per-se, the guy GOT INVOLVED in my writing, insisting on elements I did not want in there.
Moment it is completed - it is sent.
The matter of grammar:
*I write in a hurry. *I am lazy. *More often than not, I don't even proofread anymore.
Focusing on the its and it's issues, I've always ignored that. I've learned English more or less phonetically and literally. I fazed out any memory of elementary school English classes. I've given up and went to 'its' as the catch all for both words.
It would be thoughtful on my part, but I've always figured 'fuck it.'
This is Harvey's problem concerning plot:
He's writing a FRIGGIN HUGE volume of text that spans a matter of days.
With the same amount of writing, most authors would have gone into a year or so of storyline.
Look at the correlation.
Its the way I like to write. Its not a matter of ability to change -its my contentment with my anal retentiveness concerning detail and the fact that I've spent days writing about what happens every goddamn second of a day.
As to how I write the story when the two eventuall get split. . . I don't plan that far ahead tactically and I have no general strategy as to what I will commit to. . .
Man, you have got to be the first person to come down on me this harshly, but hey, it was called for. Surprised it took this long to cheese someone off this far. . . (well, get someone to post as opposed to just toss the story altogether) You've pretty much commented only on the structure of the story, not so much the contents. Then again, many just say 'keep it up' -and those just make me shake my head and sigh.
In fanfiction.net, I've always seen the 'reviews' section as a message board and a guestbook as opposed to actual 'reviews'. Understand this: I am doing this as a partial social exercise. I WANT to start conversations with people who read the story.
I am immature. Intellectual, but that does not mean I will act accordingly.
I figured the biggest reason you reviewed was because I was being too much of a little prick as an author, haven't I(?), as opposed to the actual story-text.
Seeing as I believe in aggression and taking the initiative, I can't agree with your platitude.
Sorry if I'm snapping back. I have been defensive throughout this. Eesh, if anything, I expected you to ding me for actually making my notes into a pseudo-message board as well.
Hell, to be honest, its when I go back and edit my own works myself that I just get frustrated and stop. Yep, I was expecting to be out of Lionel (the whole province) by chapter 8 or 9 from when I first started writing. . . yes, there are overruns.
-Harvey Bautista
P.S. Yes, this will be in the update's RRC. Your review (of sorts) was too damn good (really) to not reply to.
I know I'm really asking to get blasted:
Can you come up with a more detailed review based more on the story?
The rest of the RRC:
Moving onto the others. . . yes, I realize I am focusing too much on the romance. I'm starved for affection and have no experience: thus my frustrations seep into my writing.
Well, Highwaywoman, Agrias does want to stop Ramza, but again, nothing she can really do outside of being unreasonable. Her solution, cut him off emotionally so she doesn't feel pain when he leaves and should anything happen to him.
It happens. Its unfair by and for both sides, but it does happen.