***Author's Notes***
Revelation: (No offense intended)
I've been inserting a lot of my personal problems into this story. If you've been able to infer that conclusion, you have my congratulations.
Its my way of acknowledging my issues, though I don't believe its done anything decisive since I haven't solved or confronted them.
Namely, Ramza and Agrias are a mix of two people. Myself and a very special person. Ramza and Agrias for the most part represent extremes of myself. sharing aspects that are both harmonious and conflicting. However, enough hints of the other person is within them as well. I don't know if I'm wishing for this other person to read this, since I should bring it to the open with her, but she already knows -and hasn't called me out on it, and yeah. this statement won't clarify much, but sums up the situation quite nicely:
EVERYTHING HAS GONE TO HELL, AND IT WAS ME WHO PUSHED THE SHINY RED BUTTON..
This is a cry for help. It's a cop-out, but: I'm not good at connecting emotionally to other people.
I'm currently frustrated and angry, but that anger has no real target but myself. Yeah, I'm having the wrong motivations about writing right now, but I'm taking advantage of what little inertia I have left.
***Author's Notes***
Chapter 02-13 "Drifting Apart" (Chapter Two: The Manipulator and the Subservient, Scene 13)
In the sidechamber that Ramza had been waiting in, two hours had passed before the smith came in with several apprentices carrying the mithril plates of his armor.
Since the plates were forged and molded in the inseam of Ramza's bronze armor, fitting the metal pieces had been swift, composed mainly of looping through the leather straps through the shallow loops that protruded from his armor. "I know you don't care much for décor, but I felt that I had to do this for you. The bars and leather came from the cardinal's own stock."
"I appreciate it." Ramza knew better than to have any misgivings against anything extra someone went through for him. It was better to take the present with gratitude, no matter how insignificant or bothersome, if someone spent their efforts on you. "The color purple," he remarked.
"A dark shade of violet, actually," Venn corrected. "Unlike your bronze outfit, this one doesn't have those spikes. Yes, they are intimidating, but they serve no purpose except to get snagged."
"And the dragoon helm isn't?" Ramza countered.
"True. Do you want the wings on the crown of the helm removed?" the smith asked.
Ramza shook his head. "Its mithril; I know it takes forever to heat it to the point where it is malleable. I don't believe they will cost me my life. They may even distract opponents enough to spend effort trying to use them as protrusions to grapple."
"If you have the initiative," Venn replied, shrugging. "Always looking on the bright side, huh?"
If it was for the fact that the toughened and layered linen battle clothing he wore had been replaced by a thin slip of a linen vest under leather, Ramza would say that he felt the same. The mithril plate was almost as thick as the bronze that he used to wear. But, it was much lighter, as well as being much stronger. However, mithril wasn't tensile; it would shatter before it bent.
The pauldrons that Ramza wore he believed were as close to perfect as they could suit him. They covered the outer edges of his shoulders, mildly overlapping with the mithril breastplate over his leather cuirass, and the impediment on his range of motion was negligible - he couldn't even tell. They were connected to his breastplate by more leather straps on the exterior.
"Since you're not meant to be a walking shield, you only have so much metal on that a lot of it is suspended to your leather. Think of it as hybrid armor. Mithril's the perfect material since its best in a thin layer."
"Dragoons don't wear mail. . ." Ramza murmured.
"No, we don't," a man announced. "We rely on speed, not armor, unlike normal knights we don't just mass together, being juicy targets for an archer." Ramza turned to see a balding man in the armor of a dragoon enter the shop. Tucked into the crook of his right side was the helm that marked him as a dragoon, if the leather bottom, metal top armor did not give him away. "Since my men are going to be detailed to escort you as one of us, I felt it was imperative that I fold you into my platoon as quickly as possible."
"I appreciate it," Ramza remarked, learning more of what the cardinal had arranged. "I've been trained in the sword and the bow. . . but I haven't had much expertise with the spear as I should for this class of fighting."
The man shook it off. "It isn't a concern. We aren't limited to lances alone; polearms in general mostly."
"I've first learned to fight with staves," Ramza concurred.
`"Pardon me," the smith cut in. "We're done with most of your armor Ramza, except for your helmet and gauntlets - we'll be taking those fittings tomorrow. It'll be night soon." He paused. "The armor? Since its yours, feel free to take it with you; I might observe you exercising in them tomorrow -if I can fit it into the clock."
The lancer nodded. "We're not going to be the first ones in," he reported. "The actual military phase of the operation won't be for a few days. Our forces will be cutting off all escape for them before we extend any diplomatic offers. The lockdown of the province will take two to three days: the time it takes to spread the word to all the authorities."
"The cardinal is allowing Rudvich to surrender," Ramza concluded. "But, Mustadio wants to rescue his father as soon as possible." The hostage implication didn't need to be vocalized.
The dragoon lead Ramza off to the side, following the smith as Venn excused himself. "There are other appointments I have to keep," he told them.
"It wouldn't be wise for Rudvich to use hostages - not when the cardinal is making a direct challenge."
"It all depends on what is at stake," Ramza remarked.
Grunting, the dragoon agreed. "Whatever it was, it did cause the cardinal to mobilize some resources. . ." There was conspiracy in his voice. "I'm sorry Mr. Ruglia, I am known as 'Sanders.'" Ramza knew it was the man's surname that was etched onto the left half of the dragoon's breastplate.
***
Agrias had taken a nap through the afternoon, several in fact. With her, the goal was to sleep until she began to dream, and then she woke herself up again to fade away once more. She enjoyed the state of lucid unconsciousness, one of the few pleasures she craved and frequently indulged -when circumstances permitted. As such, it was the first time in over a week that she could do this again.
It irritated Alicia and Lavian frequently as Agrias would comment on the games of chess they tried to play, as Agrias seemed to doze in Alicia's bed. Agrias could see where the two knights played with a chessboard between where they sat on Lavian's bed. Agrias had only snorted when she noticed the awkward way Alicia sat, with her left foot planted on the bed with her knee bent, while Lavian curled both of her legs beneath her; Alicia wore a brown blouse with a gray skirt -which is what Agrias found appalling in her posture.
"Mate in three. . ." Agrias murmured, opening her left eye, the rested brown iris widening as it adjusted to the light again.
Alicia only growled as Lavian saw her endgame plan.
"Could you find something else to do?" she grated out.
"I don't want to think about what might happen. . ." Agrias muttered back, feeling ashamed that she was admitting this.
"You're not being fair," Lavian remarked gently, reaching forwards with her hand to capture Alicia's white queen with her black bishop. "Its hard on all of us. . . but its out of our hands."
Sitting up in bed, Agrias felt a little noxious. She glanced down again on the board. Gone were almost all of the pawns. Where either side had begun with complimentary pawn offensives, there was less than a handful between them now. They were in the sidelines, forgotten, forsaken and forlorn, with all the attention focused on the capital pieces.
For either player, it was sudden death. Their knights had taken them this far, and only a single white knight stood alone, threatening Lavian's black queen. All that remained was a single rook to either side, their kings castled. Yet, the bishops had taken no losses, neither side using them offensively until the now.
The white queen had been disposed of, and now the black queen was threatened by the white knight. The king was still free, but eventually, the knight would force a pin upon the royal pair; endgame had begun.
Cupping her hand to her face to smell if her breath had gone sour, Agrias turned away, finding herself disturbed by what she saw on the board.
The dreams she would have were not prophetic, but recollections.
***
Walking down the corridor, Ramza conversed with Sanders about what would be happening in the next few days.
"I suggest you not exert yourself physically in the next two days," the older warrior said. "From what's been going around, you've been in constant action, and your body's bound to have begun to adjust to that. However, only fatigue and atrophy will result if you keep that pace."
"Small runs," Ramza told him. "I'm going to need them in order to get used to this armor." He twisted his torso clockwise and back to make another redundant check. "Mustadio will not appreciate that it is going to be at least four to five days before he sees his father again."
Sanders shrugged. "I know it shouldn't matter even it is over a single man, but I'm only supporting this action because Rudvich is not only breaking the law, and because to the cardinal, he's enough of a threat to send troops after."
Ramza nodded, and though he knew he shouldn't say anything, he still put forth his own opinion. "There are some lines that be crossed, even if it is only for a single person's sake."
The dragoon reluctantly nodded. "You weren't talking just about a liege lord, were you?" he asked rhetorically. He slowed his pace and told Ramza. "Enjoy yourself for the next two days -reasonably. About the boy's father. . . you know that he's not the reason this operation is being undertaken." Turning around, the dragoon began to walk away, and Ramza did not look back.
"Mine neither. . . though it should be," Ramza murmured to himself, walking down a passage that seemed somewhat familiar to him.
***
After Lavian received Ramza at the door, Ovelia looked over from where she reclined on a cushion on the floor. The princess waved off the bow that he gave to her, exaggerated and lengthy only because he did not know just how much the armor would let him do. "I wish I could reward you as the cardinal has," she told him.
To his credit, Ramza did not start, or begin flustering to flatter Ovelia. "In our condition," he addressed them all instead of simply her, "we are not able to do much." He shrugged. "I believe I am beginning to live by my conscience now. . . I only want what need to survive."
Behind Ramza, Lavian chuckled silently, trading looks with Alicia, who only shrugged. 'If he's for real. . .' Lavian read in Alicia's lips. "It's a waste that you're not a soldier anymore," the chemist-knight said out loud. "Well, the Hokuten's loss, our gain," she said trivially.
"Would you please wake up Agrias?" Ovelia asked of Alicia. She turned to Ramza. "It would have been inconsiderate to leave you behind while we have our supper," she told him, giving him a conspiratorial look Ramza remembered only from Alma when she was committing conspiracy.
"Of course, highness," Alicia automatically replied, the bitter honey of her voice replaced by a clipped cadence. Quickly, she ventured into Agrias' room, and Agrias' grunt was heard afterwards.
"A banquet - why wasn't I told?!" Ramza heard the Holy Knight exclaim from the darkness of the other room.
Knowing better than to ask, Ramza took a breath. Lavian caused him to feel self-conscious when she announced loudly enough for Agrias to hear, "Even Ramza's dressed already - the festivities begins in half an hour."
It was only Ramza that didn't share a laugh at the set-up, feeling that since he wasn't one of the conspirators, he was also liable to be a victim. "A celebration for your arrival?" he asked Ovelia.
The princess nodded soberly, appearing somber. "And for what we may accomplish. . ."
***
A mediator in his salmon and gray robes was the one sent to conduct Ovelia to the main hall of Lionel Castle's keep. Escorting him was the knight Tabatha and the dragoon Sanders. Tabatha's armor wasn't complete, the most constrictive and non-distinctive pieces having been removed, and the literal battle dress - which reached past her feet without a train- she wore adorned by saffron filigree against a dark blue background, reminiscent of the starry sky. She had no weapons, not even a ceremonial sword, and she wore no gauntlets or forearm armor.
As a contrast, Sanders had no formal decoration. His armor was an unburnished shade of gray, the azure hue only coming from the mithril it was composed of, whereas Tabatha's visible pieces of armor were proudly polished mirrors of argent luster. However, he held a partisan, a halberd whose blade was etched, and the cypress shaft finished. It confirmed his status as a guard, the polearm a symbol of rank and authority.
Tabatha suppressed a grimace as Lavian winced when she greeted them at the door.
In Ovelia's protective group of four, only Ramza and Agrias wore armor; Alicia and Lavian opted for the dresses of blue and white that were their casual uniforms in their knight order. The knights' apparel wasn't martial, yet it wasn't overly feminine either. No frills, not even trim, simply a modest slip that was almost a robe.
Ramza took note of Agrias' sword from where she wore it from the frog (1*) that hung from the white belt around her waist - which was only for the sword since she wore armor. She looked just as she had this morning, though the characteristic frown on her face seemed weary now -which Ramza wondered about since Alicia had told him that Agrias had spent the rest of the day napping.
Upon commenting that he thought she did not have that habit during the journey., Lavian replied that it was only due to exhaustion that Agrias slept through a solid period.
Ramza made no attempt to disguise his staring. Instead of walking besides Ovelia, Agrias walked behind her, gesturing for Ramza to stay by her side. The Holy Knight's eyes were tired, he saw.
***
"Before you ask," she addressed him silently as they followed the mediator in the castle, "I've been having nightmares."
Ramza could guess as to what she dreamt about. "What were they about?" he probed.
"I can't tell. . ." Agrias muttered. "All I remember is that its something I don't want to recollect."
"You didn't seem to have these just a few days ago," Ramza whispered.
Shrugging, Agrias continued to stare past Ovelia. "That was because I had nothing else to dream about except saving her. . ."
***
The main hall was typical, Agrias noted, finding nothing about it unique. It had the usual separation of the classes, with the knights and local nobility in attendance at the row of tables that bordered either side of the rectangular chamber. The large presence of merchants struck Agrias almost as an affront. Aren't we supposed to be bringing them to justice? Agrias thought. At the back, opposite from the entrance, was a raised platform -a stage, Agrias sneered, where she knew they would be placed as the guests of honor.
Ramza took the initiative and crooked his left arm, and after hesitating for a moment, Agrias placed her right hand on his forearm, feeling self-conscious as they were the first to enter the chamber after the mediator.
"A feast before a war? This is something you don't celebrate," she said to him.
"It doesn't have to be about that," Ramza calmly replied, wondering why Agrias was so provocative now. "I'll draw from it what I want," Ramza replied. "Even if it isn't for the reasons you think are right, you can still enjoy yourself. . ."
"There's wisdom in being happy," Agrias acquiesced. Staring at him directly, she told him bluntly, "I am angry with you. . . for many reasons, but. . . I know that I am hurt because I care."
***
Predictably, Ovelia and Draclau shared the head of the main table, with Ovelia on the right, and Draclau on the left. Ramza paid no attention to the Lionel residents around him. He engrossed himself in trying to make a connection with Agrias. He noticed that she was trying to ignore him.
Agrias and Ramza were paired together at Ovelia's right. "Why are you angry?" He began gently, noticing how she meticulously arranged the portions of her meal into formations. "That I am leaving?"
"It was something I never took into account. . ." Agrias replied wearily, smirking at the awkward and uncomfortable feeling between the two of them. "But, that's something I could live with" she pointed out sharply, taking a breath. "I knew that somehow. . . we'd at least try to find each other again," Agrias sighed. "What bothers me is that you are resigned to die."
"So you understand that I have to go help Mustadio."
Again, Agrias shrugged. "Not really. But, you've convinced yourself that making sure that 'legendary,'" she mocked, "stone doesn't fall into evil hands. I know that if the cardinal is interested enough to help a single case like that engineer out, then it is something serious."
Ramza lifted an eyebrow, cautioning Agrias as to her surroundings. "You believe that I seek my death?"
"Seek it, expect it. . . they're the same. Haven't I told you that I've met people like you before, and how they all died?" At Ramza's silence, she continued. "They kept going when they shouldn't have. . . when they should have just held back or left it alone." She placed her bare hands onto the table. "I know I'm being hypocritical since I'm soldier, as it was their job to fight too, but Ramza. . ." she paused, her voice beginning to taint with emotional strain. "The way they thought. . . it wasn't that they understood the risks, but they went into it expecting something to happen."
"I can't promise you that I'll stay safe. . ." he told her, knowing that he could say little more.
"Exactly!" Agrias muttered, turning to face him. "Can you at least lie about that to me? No. You acknowledge that it can happen, and beyond that, I know you expect that you will run into something awful." Agrias winced at how bitter the wine turned in her mouth as she sipped to calm herself. "Why are you a coward in all the wrong areas, and a martyr where you shouldn't be?"
"Ramza. . . you need faith in yourself more than anything else. . . and there, you have none." She closed her eyes as she brought her right hand to massage her forehead. "I know I'm sounding irrational, but this is what I believe. If you insist on confronting everything, you're too weak to survive the way you are now."
***
No one at the banquet brought up the subject of Larg and Goltana's acts of treason, but everyone understood nonetheless. Embarassed, Mustadio was one of the focuses of the night, as for it was his father that this effort was being undertaken. Even Mustadio could tell that it was truly about the stone, but he also knew that the cardinal's and his motives overlapped in the details.
Ovelia said little, and Draclau made no attempt coax her, and to the surprise of the outsiders, did not speak himself. The cardinal watched over the floor and surrounding tables.
The tension in the room was palpable, as the real issues were not being addressed, but implied.
Ramza sat there, acting the noble automaton as he fell back on the etiquette taught him in his childhood, a past life, he reflected. He felt unease towards Agrias now, reciprocating the confusion and turmoil that she radiated.
He realized something as he observed her: she was isolating herself away from him.
To Ramza, there was little confusion as to how he perceived -and desired- the Holy Knight, but he knew not how to pursue. How to court Agrias? She's female, his reason told him, not a stone, yet Ramza was intimidated still. Agrias was a strong figure, and he knew that she wanted no one, yet, she had let him in.
The little touches were forward for him, but they were the most obvious approaches that he could make. Now. . . his touches seemed cold, frigid, and unwelcome.
He knew that he would not renege his decision to make sure that both the stone and Mustadio's father were retrieved. The former was important to Ivalice, somehow, even if it wasn't related to serving Ovelia with Agrias. His conscience wanted him to go, and Ramza resolved to follow his conscience, so that he would never become a victimizer -one who preyed on the innocent- ever again, through his action or inaction.
Yet, he also knew that he and Agrias might be separated for a long period of time. She wasn't shutting away for that, but because of what she believed. . .
A toast had been proposed, and obligingly, Ramza raised his goblet to participate. He tasted none of the dessert wine's sucre, only the bitter edge that fermentation had brought about.
I don't want to be here. . . he knew, looking at how Agrias sat, her elbow nudging his, yet he felt that they may as well have been on opposite shores.
"Agrias?" he asked. Agrias finished the rest of her chalice before she returned to glaring at him. "Why is it that you're acting like I've made a decision between my duty and you?"
That was the closest he'd ever come to broaching both subjects. . . and now that the gauntlet was on the table, it was up to Agrias to rise to the challenge.
"I will tell you when I have the time." The reply was clipped and precise, which Ramza took as an omen. "Not now, not here, and never while you have the advantage."
***
Ramza had wanted to retreat at that point, to get away from what he thought was animosity from Agrias. She was angry at him, but Ramza did not want to confuse that with hatred. Anger at something what one did, and hating that person are not the same to Ramza, yet, he had trouble interpreting the signals Agrias was giving out, if any.
Yet, he knew, to pull back, to ignore, to forsake the issue, was the wrong thing to do. Action had to be taken. Not something to show himself off, but to make her believe that he cared, and Ramza began to wonder how he was ever going to reach someone who appeared to be determined to push him away - unless it was on her terms - he thought, feeling offended.
That was one sign Ramza had that he did not view Agrias from the foot of a pedestal; he still had the ability to be upset with her. "Unless she means it. . . it doesn't matter," Ramza murmured as he stared forwards at a band of two guitarists, a drummer, and violinist. He remembered the conversations he had then, when he was haunted by ghosts of the past, and when Agrias was harried by what may come to be.
His words had come full circle and, Ramza admitted, bit him in the ass. He was upset because she was upset. It wasn't irrational. Ramza knew he was doing something that was causing pain to someone he cared for, and that they in turn, were lashing out at him. Both facts served to burden him with despair. The matter of retrieving the stone -no matter how important it may be as much as the cardinal implied- seemed moot compared to how Agrias and him were being driven apart. To attribute it on duty was an escape; to blame it on emotion is spiteful; to leave it to fate is ignorant.
Knowing that he would only torture himself just deliberating all the causes, effects, and aftermaths, Ramza forced himself to a decision. "If you will excuse me highness," he spoke clearly, obtaining Ovelia's attention, who nodded for him to do as he pleased, and he rose.
He placed his the fingertips of his right hand upon her shoulder, and upon feeling her recoil at first, and then stiffen, Ramza's doubts disappeared. He had to act. . . he had to make the attempt, and he realized that he had been thinking about Agrias almost as a battle; something -someone- to be won or lost. Now, all he wanted was to show her -regardless of what she's accepted, believes now, or will ever presume- that not only does he care, but he desired to share his life with her.
He left the tables and paced towards the band, whose members saw him coming and stopped their playing. Ramza knew he was creating a dramatic effect, but he chose to ignore it, disregarding how everyone's attention came to him. There was only one other soul in that chamber of a thousand that was significant to him, and if he had to be this blatant to pierce the veil. . .
His thought before one of the guitarists introduced himself was that nothing else matters.
***
***Author's Notes***
Footnotes:
(1) A frog is a type of belt that a sword's scabbard hangs from. Think of a belt with two straps hanging down attached to a scabbard. Its more practical than tucking a sword into your belt, since this rig gives you more room to maneuver since the sword isn't digging into your side. However, it may bounce around a bit since its hanging.
Ramza finally begins to confront Agrias.
Both a good, and bad thing. The stupidest time, really. They are about to split up -with bad sentiment on either side, and he wants to solidify something.
I don't know much about girls, but I assume that that half the species would be, well, angry.
I'm drifting apart from the setting descriptions again. . . though that might change in the next scene or two.
Hopefully, Ramza's thoughts don't seem too advanced. He's seemed to have gone past the stage of 'I think I like her,' but then again, he's no longer a child, and those thoughts have passed their point of development. In other words - he's already beyond that stage, as evidenced by his actions.
Ramza's issues? I'm still trying to accept most of mine.
Yes, this piece is meant to be a cliffhanger of sorts. Kudos to the people who can guess what happens next.
***Author's Notes***
***Readers' Response Corner***
First off:
Damn, Ilvinaeda. that was a lot of text.
Well, let's address your review.
When it came to writing Alicia and Lavian. that was totally half- assed. The game really gave no clue as to their personas, so I took liberty and created my versions.
Well, when I've mentioned I've inserted a lot of my problems into this story. yeah, I wasn't shitting you. That might explain why the past few chapters seemed irrational and bi-polar.
Agrias is. understandably so. I actually don't want to go into further detail about that. its weird enough venting in this department. She's pissed, and she has reason to really stick it to Ramza. Sucks to be him.
I've enjoyed the times when Agrias and Ramza just opened their hearts to each other. but. yeah. the current state of affairs. not gonna happen unless Ramza takes it into the open (which he is beginning to. the worst possible time though).
'Wheel of Time': Medieval fantasies aren't my thing. I've read up to the point where they reach Whitebridge and are split up, but I grew to detest it. None of the characters were ones I could sympathize with. except for Nynaeve. oh yeah...
As to 'Trial by Tenderness': It rocked to the point where Cevn began to introduce us to his space-time theory. when it got to that, I began to confuse the story for a lecture. Only good SI out there. and sadly, he pissed it away. Yet, up to chapter 100 or so, it was still bearable. The tangential stories were actually GOOD, since they dealt little with the sci- fi overkill that ruined TBT for me. Cevn fell into the trap of continuing the story while revising whatever direction he wanted to take it.
Geez, I'd swear you were a friend of mine. the references are almost creepy.
M'eh. I'd like to discard some details, but as it is now, so many things are just simply too convenient. Again, 'show,' not 'tell.' Who knows, both may be a good compromise.
Obviously, Lionel Castle is a death trap, though currently it's a source of writer's block (I'm simply not as motivated as I was at the end of summer). and hmm, I have to point this out - Once Ramza is on the road. the story may accelerate (positive, not negative).
To Novalon: Random characters? The starting party of the game? They are alluded to, but, no, they will not play any roles in the story. Why should they? I'm not going to build relationships to them since they aren't essential to the plotline. Sorry to sound snappy, but the starting party was never meant to come back in, since they are going to reek of 'Munchkin.'
Well, Minka-chan. that compilation-clean-up plan went to hell. sorry. I appreciate what you're telling me, and I'm hoping that you begin to improve. I'm a bit of a bastard when it comes to criticizing others, so it may not be a good idea for me to pre-read for you ^_^;
Um, Highwaywoman. I'm sorry. ahead of time, I really am.
***Readers' Response Corner***
Revelation: (No offense intended)
I've been inserting a lot of my personal problems into this story. If you've been able to infer that conclusion, you have my congratulations.
Its my way of acknowledging my issues, though I don't believe its done anything decisive since I haven't solved or confronted them.
Namely, Ramza and Agrias are a mix of two people. Myself and a very special person. Ramza and Agrias for the most part represent extremes of myself. sharing aspects that are both harmonious and conflicting. However, enough hints of the other person is within them as well. I don't know if I'm wishing for this other person to read this, since I should bring it to the open with her, but she already knows -and hasn't called me out on it, and yeah. this statement won't clarify much, but sums up the situation quite nicely:
EVERYTHING HAS GONE TO HELL, AND IT WAS ME WHO PUSHED THE SHINY RED BUTTON..
This is a cry for help. It's a cop-out, but: I'm not good at connecting emotionally to other people.
I'm currently frustrated and angry, but that anger has no real target but myself. Yeah, I'm having the wrong motivations about writing right now, but I'm taking advantage of what little inertia I have left.
***Author's Notes***
Chapter 02-13 "Drifting Apart" (Chapter Two: The Manipulator and the Subservient, Scene 13)
In the sidechamber that Ramza had been waiting in, two hours had passed before the smith came in with several apprentices carrying the mithril plates of his armor.
Since the plates were forged and molded in the inseam of Ramza's bronze armor, fitting the metal pieces had been swift, composed mainly of looping through the leather straps through the shallow loops that protruded from his armor. "I know you don't care much for décor, but I felt that I had to do this for you. The bars and leather came from the cardinal's own stock."
"I appreciate it." Ramza knew better than to have any misgivings against anything extra someone went through for him. It was better to take the present with gratitude, no matter how insignificant or bothersome, if someone spent their efforts on you. "The color purple," he remarked.
"A dark shade of violet, actually," Venn corrected. "Unlike your bronze outfit, this one doesn't have those spikes. Yes, they are intimidating, but they serve no purpose except to get snagged."
"And the dragoon helm isn't?" Ramza countered.
"True. Do you want the wings on the crown of the helm removed?" the smith asked.
Ramza shook his head. "Its mithril; I know it takes forever to heat it to the point where it is malleable. I don't believe they will cost me my life. They may even distract opponents enough to spend effort trying to use them as protrusions to grapple."
"If you have the initiative," Venn replied, shrugging. "Always looking on the bright side, huh?"
If it was for the fact that the toughened and layered linen battle clothing he wore had been replaced by a thin slip of a linen vest under leather, Ramza would say that he felt the same. The mithril plate was almost as thick as the bronze that he used to wear. But, it was much lighter, as well as being much stronger. However, mithril wasn't tensile; it would shatter before it bent.
The pauldrons that Ramza wore he believed were as close to perfect as they could suit him. They covered the outer edges of his shoulders, mildly overlapping with the mithril breastplate over his leather cuirass, and the impediment on his range of motion was negligible - he couldn't even tell. They were connected to his breastplate by more leather straps on the exterior.
"Since you're not meant to be a walking shield, you only have so much metal on that a lot of it is suspended to your leather. Think of it as hybrid armor. Mithril's the perfect material since its best in a thin layer."
"Dragoons don't wear mail. . ." Ramza murmured.
"No, we don't," a man announced. "We rely on speed, not armor, unlike normal knights we don't just mass together, being juicy targets for an archer." Ramza turned to see a balding man in the armor of a dragoon enter the shop. Tucked into the crook of his right side was the helm that marked him as a dragoon, if the leather bottom, metal top armor did not give him away. "Since my men are going to be detailed to escort you as one of us, I felt it was imperative that I fold you into my platoon as quickly as possible."
"I appreciate it," Ramza remarked, learning more of what the cardinal had arranged. "I've been trained in the sword and the bow. . . but I haven't had much expertise with the spear as I should for this class of fighting."
The man shook it off. "It isn't a concern. We aren't limited to lances alone; polearms in general mostly."
"I've first learned to fight with staves," Ramza concurred.
`"Pardon me," the smith cut in. "We're done with most of your armor Ramza, except for your helmet and gauntlets - we'll be taking those fittings tomorrow. It'll be night soon." He paused. "The armor? Since its yours, feel free to take it with you; I might observe you exercising in them tomorrow -if I can fit it into the clock."
The lancer nodded. "We're not going to be the first ones in," he reported. "The actual military phase of the operation won't be for a few days. Our forces will be cutting off all escape for them before we extend any diplomatic offers. The lockdown of the province will take two to three days: the time it takes to spread the word to all the authorities."
"The cardinal is allowing Rudvich to surrender," Ramza concluded. "But, Mustadio wants to rescue his father as soon as possible." The hostage implication didn't need to be vocalized.
The dragoon lead Ramza off to the side, following the smith as Venn excused himself. "There are other appointments I have to keep," he told them.
"It wouldn't be wise for Rudvich to use hostages - not when the cardinal is making a direct challenge."
"It all depends on what is at stake," Ramza remarked.
Grunting, the dragoon agreed. "Whatever it was, it did cause the cardinal to mobilize some resources. . ." There was conspiracy in his voice. "I'm sorry Mr. Ruglia, I am known as 'Sanders.'" Ramza knew it was the man's surname that was etched onto the left half of the dragoon's breastplate.
***
Agrias had taken a nap through the afternoon, several in fact. With her, the goal was to sleep until she began to dream, and then she woke herself up again to fade away once more. She enjoyed the state of lucid unconsciousness, one of the few pleasures she craved and frequently indulged -when circumstances permitted. As such, it was the first time in over a week that she could do this again.
It irritated Alicia and Lavian frequently as Agrias would comment on the games of chess they tried to play, as Agrias seemed to doze in Alicia's bed. Agrias could see where the two knights played with a chessboard between where they sat on Lavian's bed. Agrias had only snorted when she noticed the awkward way Alicia sat, with her left foot planted on the bed with her knee bent, while Lavian curled both of her legs beneath her; Alicia wore a brown blouse with a gray skirt -which is what Agrias found appalling in her posture.
"Mate in three. . ." Agrias murmured, opening her left eye, the rested brown iris widening as it adjusted to the light again.
Alicia only growled as Lavian saw her endgame plan.
"Could you find something else to do?" she grated out.
"I don't want to think about what might happen. . ." Agrias muttered back, feeling ashamed that she was admitting this.
"You're not being fair," Lavian remarked gently, reaching forwards with her hand to capture Alicia's white queen with her black bishop. "Its hard on all of us. . . but its out of our hands."
Sitting up in bed, Agrias felt a little noxious. She glanced down again on the board. Gone were almost all of the pawns. Where either side had begun with complimentary pawn offensives, there was less than a handful between them now. They were in the sidelines, forgotten, forsaken and forlorn, with all the attention focused on the capital pieces.
For either player, it was sudden death. Their knights had taken them this far, and only a single white knight stood alone, threatening Lavian's black queen. All that remained was a single rook to either side, their kings castled. Yet, the bishops had taken no losses, neither side using them offensively until the now.
The white queen had been disposed of, and now the black queen was threatened by the white knight. The king was still free, but eventually, the knight would force a pin upon the royal pair; endgame had begun.
Cupping her hand to her face to smell if her breath had gone sour, Agrias turned away, finding herself disturbed by what she saw on the board.
The dreams she would have were not prophetic, but recollections.
***
Walking down the corridor, Ramza conversed with Sanders about what would be happening in the next few days.
"I suggest you not exert yourself physically in the next two days," the older warrior said. "From what's been going around, you've been in constant action, and your body's bound to have begun to adjust to that. However, only fatigue and atrophy will result if you keep that pace."
"Small runs," Ramza told him. "I'm going to need them in order to get used to this armor." He twisted his torso clockwise and back to make another redundant check. "Mustadio will not appreciate that it is going to be at least four to five days before he sees his father again."
Sanders shrugged. "I know it shouldn't matter even it is over a single man, but I'm only supporting this action because Rudvich is not only breaking the law, and because to the cardinal, he's enough of a threat to send troops after."
Ramza nodded, and though he knew he shouldn't say anything, he still put forth his own opinion. "There are some lines that be crossed, even if it is only for a single person's sake."
The dragoon reluctantly nodded. "You weren't talking just about a liege lord, were you?" he asked rhetorically. He slowed his pace and told Ramza. "Enjoy yourself for the next two days -reasonably. About the boy's father. . . you know that he's not the reason this operation is being undertaken." Turning around, the dragoon began to walk away, and Ramza did not look back.
"Mine neither. . . though it should be," Ramza murmured to himself, walking down a passage that seemed somewhat familiar to him.
***
After Lavian received Ramza at the door, Ovelia looked over from where she reclined on a cushion on the floor. The princess waved off the bow that he gave to her, exaggerated and lengthy only because he did not know just how much the armor would let him do. "I wish I could reward you as the cardinal has," she told him.
To his credit, Ramza did not start, or begin flustering to flatter Ovelia. "In our condition," he addressed them all instead of simply her, "we are not able to do much." He shrugged. "I believe I am beginning to live by my conscience now. . . I only want what need to survive."
Behind Ramza, Lavian chuckled silently, trading looks with Alicia, who only shrugged. 'If he's for real. . .' Lavian read in Alicia's lips. "It's a waste that you're not a soldier anymore," the chemist-knight said out loud. "Well, the Hokuten's loss, our gain," she said trivially.
"Would you please wake up Agrias?" Ovelia asked of Alicia. She turned to Ramza. "It would have been inconsiderate to leave you behind while we have our supper," she told him, giving him a conspiratorial look Ramza remembered only from Alma when she was committing conspiracy.
"Of course, highness," Alicia automatically replied, the bitter honey of her voice replaced by a clipped cadence. Quickly, she ventured into Agrias' room, and Agrias' grunt was heard afterwards.
"A banquet - why wasn't I told?!" Ramza heard the Holy Knight exclaim from the darkness of the other room.
Knowing better than to ask, Ramza took a breath. Lavian caused him to feel self-conscious when she announced loudly enough for Agrias to hear, "Even Ramza's dressed already - the festivities begins in half an hour."
It was only Ramza that didn't share a laugh at the set-up, feeling that since he wasn't one of the conspirators, he was also liable to be a victim. "A celebration for your arrival?" he asked Ovelia.
The princess nodded soberly, appearing somber. "And for what we may accomplish. . ."
***
A mediator in his salmon and gray robes was the one sent to conduct Ovelia to the main hall of Lionel Castle's keep. Escorting him was the knight Tabatha and the dragoon Sanders. Tabatha's armor wasn't complete, the most constrictive and non-distinctive pieces having been removed, and the literal battle dress - which reached past her feet without a train- she wore adorned by saffron filigree against a dark blue background, reminiscent of the starry sky. She had no weapons, not even a ceremonial sword, and she wore no gauntlets or forearm armor.
As a contrast, Sanders had no formal decoration. His armor was an unburnished shade of gray, the azure hue only coming from the mithril it was composed of, whereas Tabatha's visible pieces of armor were proudly polished mirrors of argent luster. However, he held a partisan, a halberd whose blade was etched, and the cypress shaft finished. It confirmed his status as a guard, the polearm a symbol of rank and authority.
Tabatha suppressed a grimace as Lavian winced when she greeted them at the door.
In Ovelia's protective group of four, only Ramza and Agrias wore armor; Alicia and Lavian opted for the dresses of blue and white that were their casual uniforms in their knight order. The knights' apparel wasn't martial, yet it wasn't overly feminine either. No frills, not even trim, simply a modest slip that was almost a robe.
Ramza took note of Agrias' sword from where she wore it from the frog (1*) that hung from the white belt around her waist - which was only for the sword since she wore armor. She looked just as she had this morning, though the characteristic frown on her face seemed weary now -which Ramza wondered about since Alicia had told him that Agrias had spent the rest of the day napping.
Upon commenting that he thought she did not have that habit during the journey., Lavian replied that it was only due to exhaustion that Agrias slept through a solid period.
Ramza made no attempt to disguise his staring. Instead of walking besides Ovelia, Agrias walked behind her, gesturing for Ramza to stay by her side. The Holy Knight's eyes were tired, he saw.
***
"Before you ask," she addressed him silently as they followed the mediator in the castle, "I've been having nightmares."
Ramza could guess as to what she dreamt about. "What were they about?" he probed.
"I can't tell. . ." Agrias muttered. "All I remember is that its something I don't want to recollect."
"You didn't seem to have these just a few days ago," Ramza whispered.
Shrugging, Agrias continued to stare past Ovelia. "That was because I had nothing else to dream about except saving her. . ."
***
The main hall was typical, Agrias noted, finding nothing about it unique. It had the usual separation of the classes, with the knights and local nobility in attendance at the row of tables that bordered either side of the rectangular chamber. The large presence of merchants struck Agrias almost as an affront. Aren't we supposed to be bringing them to justice? Agrias thought. At the back, opposite from the entrance, was a raised platform -a stage, Agrias sneered, where she knew they would be placed as the guests of honor.
Ramza took the initiative and crooked his left arm, and after hesitating for a moment, Agrias placed her right hand on his forearm, feeling self-conscious as they were the first to enter the chamber after the mediator.
"A feast before a war? This is something you don't celebrate," she said to him.
"It doesn't have to be about that," Ramza calmly replied, wondering why Agrias was so provocative now. "I'll draw from it what I want," Ramza replied. "Even if it isn't for the reasons you think are right, you can still enjoy yourself. . ."
"There's wisdom in being happy," Agrias acquiesced. Staring at him directly, she told him bluntly, "I am angry with you. . . for many reasons, but. . . I know that I am hurt because I care."
***
Predictably, Ovelia and Draclau shared the head of the main table, with Ovelia on the right, and Draclau on the left. Ramza paid no attention to the Lionel residents around him. He engrossed himself in trying to make a connection with Agrias. He noticed that she was trying to ignore him.
Agrias and Ramza were paired together at Ovelia's right. "Why are you angry?" He began gently, noticing how she meticulously arranged the portions of her meal into formations. "That I am leaving?"
"It was something I never took into account. . ." Agrias replied wearily, smirking at the awkward and uncomfortable feeling between the two of them. "But, that's something I could live with" she pointed out sharply, taking a breath. "I knew that somehow. . . we'd at least try to find each other again," Agrias sighed. "What bothers me is that you are resigned to die."
"So you understand that I have to go help Mustadio."
Again, Agrias shrugged. "Not really. But, you've convinced yourself that making sure that 'legendary,'" she mocked, "stone doesn't fall into evil hands. I know that if the cardinal is interested enough to help a single case like that engineer out, then it is something serious."
Ramza lifted an eyebrow, cautioning Agrias as to her surroundings. "You believe that I seek my death?"
"Seek it, expect it. . . they're the same. Haven't I told you that I've met people like you before, and how they all died?" At Ramza's silence, she continued. "They kept going when they shouldn't have. . . when they should have just held back or left it alone." She placed her bare hands onto the table. "I know I'm being hypocritical since I'm soldier, as it was their job to fight too, but Ramza. . ." she paused, her voice beginning to taint with emotional strain. "The way they thought. . . it wasn't that they understood the risks, but they went into it expecting something to happen."
"I can't promise you that I'll stay safe. . ." he told her, knowing that he could say little more.
"Exactly!" Agrias muttered, turning to face him. "Can you at least lie about that to me? No. You acknowledge that it can happen, and beyond that, I know you expect that you will run into something awful." Agrias winced at how bitter the wine turned in her mouth as she sipped to calm herself. "Why are you a coward in all the wrong areas, and a martyr where you shouldn't be?"
"Ramza. . . you need faith in yourself more than anything else. . . and there, you have none." She closed her eyes as she brought her right hand to massage her forehead. "I know I'm sounding irrational, but this is what I believe. If you insist on confronting everything, you're too weak to survive the way you are now."
***
No one at the banquet brought up the subject of Larg and Goltana's acts of treason, but everyone understood nonetheless. Embarassed, Mustadio was one of the focuses of the night, as for it was his father that this effort was being undertaken. Even Mustadio could tell that it was truly about the stone, but he also knew that the cardinal's and his motives overlapped in the details.
Ovelia said little, and Draclau made no attempt coax her, and to the surprise of the outsiders, did not speak himself. The cardinal watched over the floor and surrounding tables.
The tension in the room was palpable, as the real issues were not being addressed, but implied.
Ramza sat there, acting the noble automaton as he fell back on the etiquette taught him in his childhood, a past life, he reflected. He felt unease towards Agrias now, reciprocating the confusion and turmoil that she radiated.
He realized something as he observed her: she was isolating herself away from him.
To Ramza, there was little confusion as to how he perceived -and desired- the Holy Knight, but he knew not how to pursue. How to court Agrias? She's female, his reason told him, not a stone, yet Ramza was intimidated still. Agrias was a strong figure, and he knew that she wanted no one, yet, she had let him in.
The little touches were forward for him, but they were the most obvious approaches that he could make. Now. . . his touches seemed cold, frigid, and unwelcome.
He knew that he would not renege his decision to make sure that both the stone and Mustadio's father were retrieved. The former was important to Ivalice, somehow, even if it wasn't related to serving Ovelia with Agrias. His conscience wanted him to go, and Ramza resolved to follow his conscience, so that he would never become a victimizer -one who preyed on the innocent- ever again, through his action or inaction.
Yet, he also knew that he and Agrias might be separated for a long period of time. She wasn't shutting away for that, but because of what she believed. . .
A toast had been proposed, and obligingly, Ramza raised his goblet to participate. He tasted none of the dessert wine's sucre, only the bitter edge that fermentation had brought about.
I don't want to be here. . . he knew, looking at how Agrias sat, her elbow nudging his, yet he felt that they may as well have been on opposite shores.
"Agrias?" he asked. Agrias finished the rest of her chalice before she returned to glaring at him. "Why is it that you're acting like I've made a decision between my duty and you?"
That was the closest he'd ever come to broaching both subjects. . . and now that the gauntlet was on the table, it was up to Agrias to rise to the challenge.
"I will tell you when I have the time." The reply was clipped and precise, which Ramza took as an omen. "Not now, not here, and never while you have the advantage."
***
Ramza had wanted to retreat at that point, to get away from what he thought was animosity from Agrias. She was angry at him, but Ramza did not want to confuse that with hatred. Anger at something what one did, and hating that person are not the same to Ramza, yet, he had trouble interpreting the signals Agrias was giving out, if any.
Yet, he knew, to pull back, to ignore, to forsake the issue, was the wrong thing to do. Action had to be taken. Not something to show himself off, but to make her believe that he cared, and Ramza began to wonder how he was ever going to reach someone who appeared to be determined to push him away - unless it was on her terms - he thought, feeling offended.
That was one sign Ramza had that he did not view Agrias from the foot of a pedestal; he still had the ability to be upset with her. "Unless she means it. . . it doesn't matter," Ramza murmured as he stared forwards at a band of two guitarists, a drummer, and violinist. He remembered the conversations he had then, when he was haunted by ghosts of the past, and when Agrias was harried by what may come to be.
His words had come full circle and, Ramza admitted, bit him in the ass. He was upset because she was upset. It wasn't irrational. Ramza knew he was doing something that was causing pain to someone he cared for, and that they in turn, were lashing out at him. Both facts served to burden him with despair. The matter of retrieving the stone -no matter how important it may be as much as the cardinal implied- seemed moot compared to how Agrias and him were being driven apart. To attribute it on duty was an escape; to blame it on emotion is spiteful; to leave it to fate is ignorant.
Knowing that he would only torture himself just deliberating all the causes, effects, and aftermaths, Ramza forced himself to a decision. "If you will excuse me highness," he spoke clearly, obtaining Ovelia's attention, who nodded for him to do as he pleased, and he rose.
He placed his the fingertips of his right hand upon her shoulder, and upon feeling her recoil at first, and then stiffen, Ramza's doubts disappeared. He had to act. . . he had to make the attempt, and he realized that he had been thinking about Agrias almost as a battle; something -someone- to be won or lost. Now, all he wanted was to show her -regardless of what she's accepted, believes now, or will ever presume- that not only does he care, but he desired to share his life with her.
He left the tables and paced towards the band, whose members saw him coming and stopped their playing. Ramza knew he was creating a dramatic effect, but he chose to ignore it, disregarding how everyone's attention came to him. There was only one other soul in that chamber of a thousand that was significant to him, and if he had to be this blatant to pierce the veil. . .
His thought before one of the guitarists introduced himself was that nothing else matters.
***
***Author's Notes***
Footnotes:
(1) A frog is a type of belt that a sword's scabbard hangs from. Think of a belt with two straps hanging down attached to a scabbard. Its more practical than tucking a sword into your belt, since this rig gives you more room to maneuver since the sword isn't digging into your side. However, it may bounce around a bit since its hanging.
Ramza finally begins to confront Agrias.
Both a good, and bad thing. The stupidest time, really. They are about to split up -with bad sentiment on either side, and he wants to solidify something.
I don't know much about girls, but I assume that that half the species would be, well, angry.
I'm drifting apart from the setting descriptions again. . . though that might change in the next scene or two.
Hopefully, Ramza's thoughts don't seem too advanced. He's seemed to have gone past the stage of 'I think I like her,' but then again, he's no longer a child, and those thoughts have passed their point of development. In other words - he's already beyond that stage, as evidenced by his actions.
Ramza's issues? I'm still trying to accept most of mine.
Yes, this piece is meant to be a cliffhanger of sorts. Kudos to the people who can guess what happens next.
***Author's Notes***
***Readers' Response Corner***
First off:
Damn, Ilvinaeda. that was a lot of text.
Well, let's address your review.
When it came to writing Alicia and Lavian. that was totally half- assed. The game really gave no clue as to their personas, so I took liberty and created my versions.
Well, when I've mentioned I've inserted a lot of my problems into this story. yeah, I wasn't shitting you. That might explain why the past few chapters seemed irrational and bi-polar.
Agrias is. understandably so. I actually don't want to go into further detail about that. its weird enough venting in this department. She's pissed, and she has reason to really stick it to Ramza. Sucks to be him.
I've enjoyed the times when Agrias and Ramza just opened their hearts to each other. but. yeah. the current state of affairs. not gonna happen unless Ramza takes it into the open (which he is beginning to. the worst possible time though).
'Wheel of Time': Medieval fantasies aren't my thing. I've read up to the point where they reach Whitebridge and are split up, but I grew to detest it. None of the characters were ones I could sympathize with. except for Nynaeve. oh yeah...
As to 'Trial by Tenderness': It rocked to the point where Cevn began to introduce us to his space-time theory. when it got to that, I began to confuse the story for a lecture. Only good SI out there. and sadly, he pissed it away. Yet, up to chapter 100 or so, it was still bearable. The tangential stories were actually GOOD, since they dealt little with the sci- fi overkill that ruined TBT for me. Cevn fell into the trap of continuing the story while revising whatever direction he wanted to take it.
Geez, I'd swear you were a friend of mine. the references are almost creepy.
M'eh. I'd like to discard some details, but as it is now, so many things are just simply too convenient. Again, 'show,' not 'tell.' Who knows, both may be a good compromise.
Obviously, Lionel Castle is a death trap, though currently it's a source of writer's block (I'm simply not as motivated as I was at the end of summer). and hmm, I have to point this out - Once Ramza is on the road. the story may accelerate (positive, not negative).
To Novalon: Random characters? The starting party of the game? They are alluded to, but, no, they will not play any roles in the story. Why should they? I'm not going to build relationships to them since they aren't essential to the plotline. Sorry to sound snappy, but the starting party was never meant to come back in, since they are going to reek of 'Munchkin.'
Well, Minka-chan. that compilation-clean-up plan went to hell. sorry. I appreciate what you're telling me, and I'm hoping that you begin to improve. I'm a bit of a bastard when it comes to criticizing others, so it may not be a good idea for me to pre-read for you ^_^;
Um, Highwaywoman. I'm sorry. ahead of time, I really am.
***Readers' Response Corner***