A/N: Here's a new chapter, and in-theme for this time of year! Hope y'all like it!

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Alma was enjoying the breeze in her hair, as they all walked down a paved lane toward their destination. She pulled her cream-colored cashmere cloak up tightly around her neck, until the collar of the luxuriously soft fabric brushed against her cheeks, as she quickened her pace a little, and examined the stone gargoyles on the front of the dark mansion they approached.

While most of Ivalice was surely suffering through deep snows and the worst of winter, there was merely the crisp chill of autumn-like weather here in southern Ordallia, in the relatively small town of Tiridates.

Malak had recently made friends with a merchant in town, a man named Abelard, who Alma guessed to be in his early-thirties. Abelard had invited Malak and the rest of their household to join him and his family for a holiday party at their home.

Abelard had, mayhap, been a bit surprised to learn that Malak's household currently contained eleven adults, no children, and one robot, but he had still insisted that they were all welcome to come to his party. He told Malak he had already invited at least thirty others, so the size of their own group was not impossible to accommodate.

Abelard's wife was a heavily pregnant woman named Sylphie, and she greeted them warmly at the front door before ushering them inside.

"I am so sorry if we're too early!" Meliadoul exclaimed to Sylphie. "We are often late for everything, so we left our home with extra time to spare."

"No, no," Sylphie assured them, in her thick Ordallian accent, "Come in, please! I've been excited to meet this group that Abelard cannot stop talking about. Are you the one who uses Holy magic?"

Everyone paused to watch as Construct 8 bent at his metal waist in order to fit through the doorway.

"No, um, that is Agrias," Meliadoul said, gesturing. "My magic is a bit different. It is difficult to explain…"

As Meliadoul, Agrias, and Sylphie made small talk, their group was led into the main gathering area of Abelard and Sylphie's spacious home.

Immediately, Sylphie's three small children raced over to see Construct 8, who responded politely to Ramza's requests that he give the children piggy back rides.

Looking around the room, Alma saw that three other guests had also arrived early, and were helping to hang up decorations.

The holiday they were here to celebrate was a foreign one to Alma. It was in honor of the spirit of Solyeuse, who Alma assumed must be some sort of saint who was utterly unrecognized in Ivalice.

Certainly, the way the Ordallians celebrated would have been frowned upon in Ivalice.

"Your costume is… beautiful…" Agrias said, slowly, to Sylphie. "What, um, what is it, though?"

Abelard had told Malak that during the celebration of Solyeuse, everyone wore intimidating masks or costumes, to scare away evil spirits and ensure that the coming year would be free from the presence of such demons, monsters, or wicked-minded imps.

Alma knew that Altima would never have been scared off by a spooky mask, but she didn't say that to her hosts.

Alicia, Malak, and Lavian wandered across the room and offered to help the strangers to suspend strings of decorations from the walls and the ceilings of the living area.

Another small group of guests arrived, and more stilted introductions were made. Alma's other friends were still trying to make small talk, but it sounded notably awkward, as they had no history, and not much common ground, with the locals. When one of Sylphie's servants brought round a tray of drinks, there were almost audible sounds of relief from some of the people assembled, for the distraction.

We need music, or something, Alma thought to herself.

Or something.

With a bit of focus, Alma sent a rolling wave of glee throughout the group. It wasn't anything that could be seen with the eye, but Alma recognized its effects hitting its recipients—their sudden smiles; their tense, overly-polite postures releasing into relaxed slumps.

Altima had used this little trick as an extra tool to keep her servants loyal to her.

Her subjects always felt good, joyful, whenever they were around her. And they remembered that feeling— when they were not around her, when they were off doing her bidding. They wanted more opportunities to bask in the bliss her presence brought to them, like a pleasure-inducing drug; to be blessed with the chance to kneel before her winged, angelic form.

This time, however, no one assembled here was aware that the feeling was emanating from Alma herself. She was fairly sure that she wasn't trying to be selfish, this time. Maybe there was no harm in this, in using a bit of her special magic to make sure that her friends had fun tonight.

Maybe, she thought, the motives were all that determined whether a spell was evil or beneficial.

Looking across the room, Alma saw that Ramza and Meliadoul had joined some strangers and were beginning to learn the rules to some sort of local drinking game.

Alma decided she was not going to participate in that. She was taking a break from alcohol in general, as she was beginning to worry that she had relied too heavily on drinking to deal with her feelings over the past few months. She didn't want to become like one of the many drunks she had known at Igros castle: quietly despondent and clearly unable to even enjoy the good fortune associated with their high births.

She wanted to really live; however strange her life had become.

"They would have all been arrested for this, back home," Rafa commented, in a quiet voice meant only for Alma's ears.

Alma startled, briefly confused and feeling that Rafa's statement was directed toward the secret spell she had just performed. Then it clicked, that Rafa meant the occult decorations and the monstrous costumes the guests wore for the feast of Solyeuse.

"Yes. Indeed. The inquisitors would have quickly put a stop to this sort of celebration," Alma answered back, just as quietly.

"I am glad that we are here to see it, though," Rafa said. "I like the costumes! I wish we had put more effort into dressing up, after all. I shouldn't have listened to Agrias telling us not to."

They had been a bit skeptical when Abelard told Malak that everyone dressed as demons and ghouls and trickster sprites for this event. It was hard to imagine anyone doing that, given their own strict religious backgrounds. Most of them had only conceded to buy small eye masks in bright colors from the marketplace, as their "costumes" for the night.

But the other attendees, even pregnant Sylphie, had costumed themselves from head to toe.

They had just learned a moment ago that Sylphie had dressed as a nixie, with flowing robes in varying shades of blue and green. The very darkest, muddiest colors were at the bottom, meant to connote water, or the hem of her gown being wet. She had also sewn the pattern of a mermaid's tail onto the back of her skirt.

Sylphie's husband, Abelard, was dressed as a demon he told them was called Asmodeus. Perhaps she was just crazy, but Alma thought that mayhap Asmodeus might be another name for her own dead servant, Hashmalum— who had worn Vormav's body most recently.

Abelard's costume seemed to suggest the head and body of a lion, though he wore mostly red and green robes, as opposed to the charcoal-blue robes Hashmalum had actually favored.

Alma caught herself thinking fondly of Hashmalum for a brief moment; speculating as to how he would smirk at this silly human display, how he would have already fetched her a drink if he were here beside her right now.

She shook off the thought.

Linking her arm through Rafa's, Alma said, "Let's go find out if they've anything to drink besides mead."

Walking through the great room and hall, they examined the decorations that were almost complete now. Strings of small bird bones on yarn hung like cobwebs everywhere. Various symbols made from sticks and stones and thread were also attached to the walls and ceilings, meant to ward off evil spirits.

Golden candelabra were placed every few feet along the walls, as well as a very large chandelier hanging from the ceiling in the center of the space. The glow from the multitudinous candles gave a dimly warm, and mysterious, light to the area.

They walked through the house until they found the kitchen, where a few servants were hard at work preparing the food for the party. Mustadio and Besrodio were also in here, trying to sneak a few snacks in advance.

Alma felt a jolt in the general region of her belly, upon unexpectedly seeing Mustadio.

That had been happening to her a lot lately, and it was completely silly, considering that they lived in the same house and she saw him multiple times in a day.

"Ahm, I was wondering, have you anything else to drink; something like apple juice, mayhap?" Alma said to the servant nearest her.

Mustadio was currently tearing into some sort of pastry made with dates and nuts, standing next to his father halfway across the room, but he met Alma's eyes a few times while she waited for her drink, and she half-smiled at him.

With cups in hand, Alma and Rafa rejoined the party in the haunted-looking great room.

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"Ow, fuck!" Mustadio exclaimed.

Ramza had just crushed every bone in Mustadio's hand, or so it felt like.

They were playing a card game where, when a certain card appeared, the players had to slap their hands down upon it as fast as they could. The first person to touch the card was the winner, while the others had to drink more mead as their "punishment" for losing.

Ramza seemed to be taking the 'slapping' part of the game far too seriously. Mustadio had clearly won this round, being the fastest to slap the card, but Ramza had then brought his hand down on top of Mustadio's with the force of a damn war hammer.

"Sorry!" Ramza said cheerfully, while Mustadio tried to shake the pain out of his hand. Ramza took his required five sips of mead with equal cheer.

"I think I've about had it with this game," Mustadio said to the people who were sitting at the small, round table with him. "Where did the others go, anyway?"

It was only him, Ramza, Meliadoul, Lavian, and one stranger, sitting there.

"I think I heard Rafa say they were going to go do the corn maze outside," Lavian said.

"Corn maze?" Meliadoul asked.

Apparently, they hadn't grown corn where she grew up.

Lavian began to explain, while they all stood up and made their way through the large house to the back doors.

Mustadio followed along, feeling warm and lazy from the spiced mead he had drank a few cups of throughout the night.

Outside, a short walk away, there was a huge corn field with paths intentionally carved through it, to create a winding labyrinth. The corn stalks towered above their heads, in thick, nearly-impenetrable walls, making it impossible to see anyone else after they ventured inside the maze. They could hear whoops of laughter from some of those wandering within.

Mustadio looked around at all of the strange costumes on the other party guests: here, someone dressed and heavily powdered to look like one of the ghosts that haunted Lake Poescas. Over there, someone wearing a mask that looked like the head of some monstrous fish. To his left, a group of rowdy children costumed like imps, complete with twisted horns upon their heads.

Some of the costumes came eerily close to reminding him of some of the Lucavi demons they had destroyed in Ivalice. He tried to tell himself it was just his imagination creating similarities where there actually were none.

Soon after choosing one of the many entrances to the gigantic corn maze, their group came to a three-way fork in the path.

"Shall we split up?" Ramza said. "We will see who can get through fastest."

Mustadio chose the path on the right, and set off alone, carrying one of the many lanterns that their hosts had left outside the labyrinth for this purpose.

He wandered for a long while, mostly choosing to go right again, whenever more forks in the path presented themselves.

The tall walls of cornstalks looked vaguely sinister, all around him, in the dim lantern light.

Why do people enjoy this? Mustadio wondered to himself.

He eventually hit a point where he felt like he had been wandering for a whole hour, or more. He wished he had another cup of spiced mead in hand, to warm him. He often heard the voices and laughter of the other people in the maze, nearby to his path, but he rarely passed right by another person.

Am I going to have to shoot my gun in the air to let people know where I am, to get rescued from this damn thing, like a lost little child? Mustadio thought darkly.

He was, in fact, beginning to wonder if he would be trapped in the labyrinth all night, when he nearly walked straight into Alma, who was turning the corner, coming the opposite way.

"Oh!" he exclaimed.

"Mustadio!" Alma exclaimed back, her cheeks rosy from the chill air.

"Uh, hi," Mustadio said, feeling suddenly unsure what to do with either his hands or his feet.

"Are you having fun?" Alma asked, gesturing vaguely around at the whole maze around them.

"I wouldn't really call it fun," Mustadio admitted. "I've been wandering for ages, and still haven't found a way out. I only hope Ramza is having the same problem."

"I have been in here for a long time, too," Alma said. "I think we must be close to the end; the field is only so big, after all!"

"If I'd known this was going to take this long, and be this boring, I wouldn't have entered in the first place," Mustadio said.

"Oh, come now, it's not boring! It's an adventure!" Alma insisted.

"It's definitely boring," Mustadio insisted back.

Alma frowned in annoyance.

"Boring, hmm?" she said, after a moment.

Before he could reply, bursts of something were appearing all around him, seeming to spout from the general direction of Alma's gesturing hand.

An ethereal light blue fog swirled around their feet, filling the path as far as he could see. Countless tiny lights twinkled within the fog, sparking, then disappearing, then sparkling again. And from out of the fog, little beings of light began to fly up, their laughter like tiny bells.

Fairies? Mustadio thought, incredulous.

A few of them poked at him playfully, or pulled at his hair, flying away before he could actually touch them in return. Some seemed to be beckoning him to walk a certain direction, as if they wished to guide him out of the maze. Or, mayhap, lead him further astray inside it.

"Is that interesting enough for you?" Alma asked, rhetorically.

"W-what did you do?" Mustadio stammered. He had never heard of any spell like this one.

Alma grinned widely; a very mischievous grin that, for a moment, forcibly reminded Mustadio of Ramza's smile. And then, she quickly ducked away from him and dashed off down one of the paths, out of sight.

Mustadio stood still for a few more minutes, after she left. He was not usually one for much introspection, but he found himself marveling at the strangeness of his life thus far: that an ordinary boy who had worked in the mines of Goug should find himself fighting gangsters, church members, and demons alongside a recklessly brave, renegade nobleman— that he should have survived those fights, to end up here in Ordallia, to wander a maze that had been enchanted especially for him, by the oddest woman he had ever known.

Looking around at the twinkling fog, and the playful fairy lights still dancing through it, he felt suddenly and unexpectedly happy with where life had taken him.

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