xxx
"The Corpse Brigade's end was as ignomous as their beginning. In spite of their prowess in the Fifty Year War, what brought the Brigade to its knees was a combination of the Order of the Northern Sky, and a single band of cadets, with scant renown to their names. Of course, that simple cadre of cadets… It is hard to call them mere cadets, as to do so would be to ignore the start of those praised and cursed names - Ramza Beoulve and Tanya Degurechaff."
- A Record of the War of the Lions, by Orran Durai, AU5.
xxx
Chapter 7: Kill the Boy
The trip back to Eagrose was simplistic in comparison to leaving it. We walked with a purpose in our step and pride in our hearts, our heads held high as Algus fussed over his liege lord. Vinya danced between groups, going from teasing Finn by jumping up to pat his head to flicking past Caim and tweaking his nose. We were in high spirits, after all; our mission was accomplished with relative ease, so I allowed the troops their little games and jokes.
The castle gate came up to us faster than before, even though the cheers of the commoners followed us here - a group of at least twenty people idling behind us as the gates opened up, Dycedarg's lazy smile and raised hand sending a scattering of cheers bursting from our backs. Zalbaag too, took a step forward, raising his hand in a wave, and the crowd went wild. These Beoulves… Why can't I be that popular!? It'd make my life so carefree and simple that it makes me want to cry!
"Welcome home, Ramza," Zalbaag said with a smile as Algus and the Marquis were ushered indoors by Dycedarg. The Marquis looked back with wide eyes, and I waved politely as the doors shut behind him, his eyes never leaving mine. "I see your mission was a success."
It had been a relatively swift journey back, barely a few days passing as I'd finally had a chance to drag Vinya aside for a crash course in 'Ivalician map-reading'. Dorter was practically a hop and a skip away from Eagrose; three days march if you took it slowly, and cutting right across the Mandalia Plains was relatively simple when all the monsters were running scared during a mobilization effort on the scale of whatever Zalbaag was up to.
We walked forward, the iron gates slowly closing shut in our wake, leaving our throng of admirers behind us. They dispersed quickly enough, each wandering back to their mundane lives. Eagrose was unchanged, the stones clean of moss, the statues surrounding us, it was as peaceful as it was previously. I could hear birds in the distance as they flitted from tree to tree, and the quiet murmur of the wind accompanied them.
"Aye, brother," Ramza said quietly, turning to look into the distance. I jerked my head at our troops, who quickly dispersed, apart from myself and Delita. "But…"
"But what, Ramza?"
"We may have gone a little overboard," he said, sending me an annoyed look. "Parts of Dorter have been… Lost."
"Lost?" Zalbaag arched an eyebrow. "Are you to say the Brigade put the city to the torch rather than have you take it?"
"No," Ramza shook his head. "We burnt it."
"A bit of fire never harmed anyone, Ramza." Zalbaag said with a laugh. "Ask our brother sometime about what he got up to during the war. Cities can be rebuilt, livelihoods restored. If that is what it takes to regain peace in Gallione, is it not worth it?"
"It… It doesn't seem just, brother," he whispered, clenching his fists. "We slaughtered them, aye, and assuredly they deserved it, but their screams, the look of horror in the archer's eyes as I thrust my spear through him-"
"-It is good that you still know what it means to be noble, Ramza," Zalbaag said, adjusting his sword belt. He looked into the distance, and all three of us followed his eyes, staring out at where Alma and Tietra were playing by the lake . Tietra flung water at the other girl, who let out an indignant shriek before tackling her friend to the ground. "But it is not for the likes of you and I to debate whether what we do is right. They were bandits and thieves, robbers who care not for the people of Gallione, but only for their pockets."
"And yet-"
"You cannot worry over the lives of the unjust in order to rise high as a knight, Ramza," Zalbaag said, clapping his hand on his brother's shoulder. "You are no longer a boy, after all, but a man."
"Is slaughtering men a work that only a man can do then?" Ramza said quietly.
"Your worries, Ramza, are the worries of a boy. Kill the boy, Ramza," Zalbaag said. "Kill him, and let the man be born."
He left it at that, turning on his heel and walking inside the building after Algus and Dycedarg. We stood quietly for a time, watching Tietra and Alma play; Delita and Ramza with the prodigious patience that can only be afforded to elder siblings, and myself with the impatience of the only child. In this world of blood and fury, it was absolutely absurd to see someone so highly placed as Ramza Beoulve afford himself so little leeway. Bravery? Justice? Nobility? Are we in the 21st century, Ramza? Those are concepts that only the truly strong can afford to hold, not a pair of cadets! We don't have any kind of power in this world beyond 'that which is afforded to us by our superiors', how can you miss this obvious concept!?
Ivalice was a world that was, fortunately, inherently capitalist. In a capitalist society, one exchanges money for goods and services. These services can be vast beyond all rational belief, the hundreds of possibilities located inside of them enough that a single person could never hope to accomplish half of the wonders of capitalism alone. But right now, I - we - are less than cogs in this monstrous machine. Cogs don't have rights, or ideals, or anything but the concept of 'movement' that is deeply embedded into their inner psyche. This ability, to move, is one so inherently obvious to the average cog that the concept of 'stopping' would be impossible. We are the nuts and bolts of this machine, the things that allow cogs to move. An important part, yes, but easily replaceable. Stop trying to get me replaced, idiot! I worked hard to get to this point in my second life!
"How do you do it, Degurechaff?"
"Do what?"
"Does it not bother you when men scream for their mothers as they bleed? Does it not affect you, knowing that we killed them for their crimes?"
"They were criminals, and we were dispatched by Lord Dycedarg," I said simply in response. "It is not the place of cadets to question the wishes of our superiors, is it not? We followed the orders we were given."
"Did our orders include razing half of Dorter to the ground, then?" Ramza whispered as he watched the girls play. "For Tietra and Alma to remain safe… is this what it truly requires?"
"You think too much, Beoulve," I replied. The wind blew soft at Eagrose, the branches of the trees lazily rocking back and forth as we spoke. The rustle of leaves was a soothing sound, especially compared to the sounds at Dorter. "As Lord Zalbaag said, it will be rebuilt. But if we do not hammer the lesson into the Brigade, will they not simply spring up again? And again? Endlessly sprouting, until their demands beggar the nation for coin?"
"Aye, and yet…" Ramza clenched his fist, raising it as he stared a hole in his hand, like the answers would be given if he glared at it hard enough. "If we are to be knights in earnest, is it not important for us to be just? To be noble and righteous, brave and true to the end?"
"That's an ideal, Beoulve."
"In the end, Degurechaff," he said, smiling sadly at me. "Ideals are all we have."
I didn't like these sorts of conversations. It was so much simpler with Dycedarg or my subordinates. With Dycedarg, all I had to do was follow the flow of the conversation and promise to fulfill my obligations, as any good employee would. And my subordinates listened to me, because I had beaten into them what was necessary for us to succeed in this world of martial prowess. Ramza was…
Difficult. Exceedingly so.
Ramza Beoulve was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and seemed to have no idea what the implications of such a birthright meant. Ramza Beoulve was a person with exceeding, almost ludicrous skill in combat, but he seemed to believe in that inherent thing called 'goodness', in spite of all the proof that the world threw at him that there was no such thing that existed. It made me wonder why that devil had even bothered with the likes of me, when people like this existed.
"Listen to your superiors. Follow orders. Do what is required of you. That is all that is needed to rise high in society, is it not?"
"Is it so important to you, Degurechaff, to rise high, even at the cost of what you believe in?"
"What I believe in, Beoulve," I said with a smile, "Is that society honors those who deserve it, and casts down those who do not."
"Hah!" Delita barked out a laugh. "What a cynical viewpoint. I can't say I'm surprised, but even so."
Cynical? How naive of Delita Heiral to say such a thing. As the son of a commoner who had risen high through the position of his friend, I expected better from him. While such a thing was standard here, I had assumed he had enough forethought to comprehend why he was being allowed to rise up in the ranks.
"That sort of society you believe in Degurechaff, I don't think I could stand it." Ramza said quietly, watching his sister and her friend. "In fact, I would be more inclined to destroy it."
"I'd be more than happy to debate politics with you at a later date, Beoulve, but look around. No rest for the wicked."
He turned, to see Zalbaag once more walking towards us, a cadre of men behind him. I counted at least seven knights, six mages, and a scattering number of archers, all mounted on chocobos. Zalbaag dismounted from his, and looked at the three of us.
"Ah, it's good you're here," he said with a broad smile. "Ramza, our lord brother has given us orders. Let us eradicate the Brigade, once and for all. You know of the Thieves' Fort?"
"Aye," Ramza said, a grim look on his face. "Are we to make way at once?"
"You catch on quick, Ramza!" Zalbaag said, a quiet chuckle as he spoke. "Go to the Thieves' Fort. You should know of it, yes? It's under a day's march from Eagrose itself. Capture those who surrender, kill those who do not. An easy mission, isn't it?"
"Easier than the previous, certainly." I muttered. Delita elbowed me in the side, and I gave him a dirty look in response.
"Aye," Ramza murmured, a worried look on his face. He smoothed it out with a smile, looking at Zalbaag. "The fort we played in as children, then?"
Zalbaag nodded, and Ramza put a hand up into a lazy sort of salute. "I suppose I'll see you when we return then, lord brother."
"Nay, Ramza," Zalbaag replied, his hand clapping his brother's shoulder. "Alas, our task is a bit more in depth then your own. We will not see each other until those damnable remnants are wiped out. This is your victory lap. When we see each other next, I expect I'll have to call you ser!"
He laughed, mounting his chocobo and waving a hand.
"Oh, and Miss Degurechaff-" he said, looking at me. "Do try to keep Ramza safe, would you? He's a bit prone to flights of fancy, as it were."
I saluted, staring at Zalbaag, lips a determined line across my face.
"I'll do my best, Knight Devout."
"Hah! Your ethics are impeccable, Miss Degurechaff. I'll see you three at the victory feast!"
He clicked the reigns, and the troop exited Eagrose. We watched them go, their mounts fading into the treeline with monstrous agility. Naturally, we were not as high up as them though. We would, of course, be forced to walk once more.
Damn it. I was hoping for another vacation, and yet..!
And yet…!
Again with the tasks! More of them, at that! Protect Ramza?! He's an idiot! I can't protect him from his own stupidity, Zalbaag! Give me something more reasonable, would you!?
"I'll collect the men," Delita said, leaving. "We'll meet back here. Ramza, Degurechaff."
Ramza nodded, and Delita left it at that. The two of us stood, Ramza's eyes still staring out into the distance where his brother had just left.
"Degurechaff," he said, looking at me. "If you try to create another Dorter-"
"It's a barren fort for thieves, Beoulve. Does it really matter what it looks like at the end?"
"It matters not. If you wish for us to descend into hell alongside you, I'll stop you."
"Stop me? Our orders were from your brother, were they not?"
"Aye," he said, turning to look me in the eye. His eyes burned with a fire I didn't even know he had, and it sent a shiver down my spine. Oy, aren't we friends Ramza?! Why are you treating me with such fury right now!? "But I will not stand by as innocents are slaughtered."
"Who was innocent at Dorter, then? The civilians had long since abandoned the city to the Brigade's dogs."
"For their crimes, they deserved death, yes. If they had lived honestly…" Ramza sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Perhaps they would not have met such a fate. But was Margriff wrong? Do they not deserve to be paid for their actions during the war?"
"Very well, Beoulve, do as you wish." I replied, crossing my arms with a stern look. "But that ability in and of itself is a blessing that is only afforded to the nobility. It is your right to use my blood - everyone's blood - in your mad quest for justice."
"That's not what I meant, Degurechaff."
"Then what is the stopping point, Ramza? How many lives are you willing to tread over, so that your enemies can go to their God and say they died with honor?"
He didn't reply to me, staring into the distance like it would give him an answer to the questions I posed.
"I'll do it with my own power, then," he said, clenching his fist. "I will not climb over the corpses of the present to find the future I desire."
"That's beyond unreasonable. No single person can change the entire world, Beoulve."
"Then, is it not grand that I have such a wise and brilliant person such as yourself to direct my way?" He smiled at me, and I rolled my eyes, examining one of the nearby statues over the idiot in front of me.
Ramza was stupid. Ridiculous beyond belief. Totally irrational when it came to things such as 'honor', 'ideals', and 'truth'. His concepts were not fit for an aristocratic society in the early parts of a medieval era; the things he states are too high-minded for such a thing. Justice, peace, honor - all of these are ideas that are suited for the Victorian era and onwards, far too late for him to even be alive during that time. He's too far ahead of his era, really. But that's fine. We're both a little misplaced in time, in the end.
"Then it'll be my job to teach you why that's foolish, I suppose."
He laughed at that, and we fell into a companionable silence until Delita returned with the men. Algus was there as well, a grin on his face as he quietly spoke to Vinya about something or the other. We stood in front of them, and Ramza sighed.
"Do you wish to speak to them this time, Degurechaff?"
"Why Beoulve, has my station changed since we last spoke? Have I become a member of that fabled upper class of society that we lowly beings must cup our hands to grab their piss as it runs down their trousers?"
"God, your way with words is disgusting."
"Would you prefer I bow and scrape to you? Oh, Lord Beoulve, I truly wish for nothing more than your success!"
"Enough," Ramza said with a smile. "I'll speak to them again."
"Men," he began, walking forward, "A simpler task then last time. We are to ransack the Thieves' Fort, and to lay waste to those inside of it. Capture those who surrender, kill those who do not. Simple enough, isn't it?"
A spattering of cheers rose out from our assembled troop. I felt depressed that they were so easily mollified.
"No more words," he said, laughing a bit. "Let us be on our way. Gallione's freedom from the brigade is at hand, and I will not have it sullied by mere words. Let us take back our country from these brigands. With me!"
He walked out the gate, and I jogged a bit to follow. Peeking back, everyone followed us with shining eyes. Oy, we're setting out so fast you didn't even have time to get a meal! Be a little angry, please! That way, I can convince Ramza we should wait a little bit longer! For myself, of course! I want to read more of the library, not trudge through the mud to go to some stupid fort!
Ahh… This really is the worst.
We marched in spite of my inner pleas.
The journey to Thieves' Fort was relatively short, honestly. I moved with purpose next to Ramza's side through the Mandalia plains, quietly fuming as we walked. The grass quickly gave way to mud, our marching feet easily covering the ground with an almost unnecessary level of speed. This was such a disgraceful use of human resources it made me want to cry. Even if we're just cadets, shouldn't this be a job for someone higher up? Dycedarg, if you're there, why are you forsaking your voice and brother for such a minor gain!? You have a massive itinerary of forces on your side, and you're using these as if it matters? I just don't get it!
As expected, what I had once thought were competent and put-together superiors, are actually worth as much as the garbage on the side of the road. This is the inherent problem with an aristocratic society - meritocracy is thrown to the wayside. Lord Dycedarg did not receive his position in life because of any 'merit', but because it was his 'birthright'. As such, the very existence of aristocracy is a stain on all those who believe in merit, but to say so is to mock those who live in it from up high. In spite of all the advancements of technology, and how far away I was in my time as a manager of human resources from this medieval world, it still maintained similar features to it. It didn't matter that it was the year 20XX, and not 14XX, the superiors that I had were not entirely deserving themselves.
'Your promotion couldn't go through, X-san's son needs some working experience.'
'I'm sorry, but the director insists Y-san be promoted in your place.'
'Z-san is the only person who could take this position, wouldn't you agree?'
In the end, this meritless method of promotion held fast and strong for hundreds of years. But it was yet another obstacle to be crushed underneath the power of signaling theory. Those promotions I was passed up for were not the sort of jobs I wanted to do in the first place. Middle management is the best. Being too high up the food chain means you have to deal with the consequences of your actions, and the politics that come along with operating outside of the natural societal norms in order to attain such a position in the first place. So, while Dycedarg's incompetence is frustrating, it is not unexpected - it is the natural order of things when you reach a position in society where merit ceases to be the core function of how positions are maintained. The overreliance on inner politicking means that you lose sight of how the real world functions.
Just one more year. Just one more year and I won't ever have to bother with such ridiculous assignments again! As Dycedarg's 'voice', my position would naturally be raised to his equivalent, and I would be able to flee the cruelty and wickedness of the battlefield forever! No more burning bodies! No more cries of help! No more curses on my name! Ahhh, it's going to be so peaceful I could cry.
"I don't want to bother with trash," I said with a sigh, glancing at Ramza. "Should we prepare a barrage?"
"Aye," Ramza said, frowning at the fort. "An easier advance is always… appreciated, is it not? Speak to the men for once, Degurechaff. They like you better then me anyways."
"Hah… Always forcing off the unsavory things on the likes of me, aren't you? Damn noble."
"Just follow the order, Degurechaff."
I walked towards the men, my arms behind my back. I didn't really like public speaking, but in order to follow my beliefs in signaling theory, I would have to. Signaling theory is a beautiful concept that I thoroughly encourage everyone to believe in. For the average person, signaling theory is a confusing thing, but after I encountered the Chicago School of Economics in life, I understood it perfectly.
I must signal that I am a valuable human resource to others, in order to obtain a peaceful and serene life. In my world, being a 'valued resource' was simple; one had to complete tasks set in front of them, until such a time that tasks ceased to be placed in front of them that were more difficult - they maintain a similar level of skill for the vast majority of the time. In signaling theory, one party, the sender, will 'signal' to the other party, acting as a receiver, the value of the information they are conveying. So look lively, Ramza.
I'll show you that even Delita can't compare to me when it comes to rallying troops.
"Men," I said, turning a swift face to walk horizontally alongside our small troop, "This is the last of it. After we crush the Brigade here, Lord Zalbaag's sweep will doom their efforts to topple our glorious nation of Ivalice. These remnants are not even animals in this wondrous place known as Gallione - they are vultures, feasting like the carrion-feeders they are on the rotting pieces of this great country."
I turned to face them, a bright smile on my face as I raised a hand, clutching it into a fist.
"Prepare for them a welcome mat that only mages can! Show them that these hopes and prayers they call desire will be met with the greatest God of all - the monstrous cannon of the Northern Sky's wondrous mages!"
In this damnably backwards land I've found myself in, mages are the equivalent of a God, dictating the pace and position of the battlefield from down high. Those who fight in melee combat are oftentimes simple corpses that happen to walk. Firaga, Ifrit, Ramuh… How can a melee fighter compare to the dangerous power known as sorcery? It's simply impossible for the likes of them in most scenarios.
"Mages!" I said, throwing my hand to the side. "Spells at the ready! Hold your fire until my command!"
I twirled my staff, and slowly crafted a box of time around the entrance to the fort, weaving around it to slow the area if any dared to exit it. I left a few holes on the side, for our melee fighters to enter - and myself to follow, naturally - but once the box was nearly finished, I held the cast back.
"Ahhhh," I said with a sigh, "Truly, the scent of mana in the rain is a delight, is it not? Let's make it a little easier to smell, so that our enemies can taste it on their tongues just as well as we can!"
I finished the spell, collapsing it into existence. The transparent mana suddenly solidified, a shining green prison with slow moving circles inside of it, that danced delightfully as I could hear the mutters of those behind it as they started to move.
"Are they here?!"
"Quick! Prepare for battle! Milleuda, please, you must flee-"
"Damn those knights! Do those bastards really think so little of us!?"
"Ramza," I said to our commander, saluting with two fingers. "Would you like the honors?"
"Do it yourself, Degurechaff," he said, his eyes narrowing as he pulled the spear off his back, his hand running over it as he muttered under his breath. Lightning started to bloom on the weapon, and he twirled it once, then twice, before hoisting it like a javelin over his shoulder. "At your word."
The air stilled.
"FIRE!"
Ramza's arm flew forward, and out of his spear launched a gunshot of thunder magic that blitzed through the gate at ridiculous speed. A second passed, and I heard an explosion of mana from where it had landed, and in the sky I saw Shiva's beautiful visage expand into existence, Her ice blasting downwards amidst screams. A fira followed it, Tenevere's fire dropping like a meteor amongst the ice, creating a wondrous explosion.
"Oh praise be to God, his name is the summoner. That sounds about right, doesn't it?"
"The concentrated mana of an esper is really a sight to behold. Amen."
"What are you lot standing around for?" Algus asked with a smile as he raised his sword. "Degurechaff has prepared us such a wonderful slaughterhouse, has she not? Let us greet the enemy with a shout of joy and blades of kindness!"
A roar went up from the melee unit, who charged forward towards the entryway. I rolled my eyes at their excitement to charge towards their deaths, but prepared the ground they ran upon with time, enhancing their speed as they rushed for the gates. Gingerly, I followed along, the rest of our mages at my side as we approached the gates, all of us preoccupied by casting as we moved.
Ahead, I could see Ramza was already inside, his eyes cold as his sword clashed against a knight's blade, a snarl already on his lips as they separated. He muttered something under his breath, and his blade erupted in flames when he whirled to engage another swordsman in combat, lifting his spear and slamming it through the man's gut before turning away once more. He was fine, so I examined the battlefield.
Everyone was doing their job as a resource so far. As always, it was important as a manager to observe your employees at their tasks, and it appeared that there was little for me to do to aid them.
To each according to his ability, to each according to his need. If none have the need of my assistance, then I have accomplished my task, or duty, for this battle. This is the nature of meritocracy, and the battlefield is one of the ultimate forms of meritocracy that can possibly exist. While an ordinary person like me would ordinarily have no way to thrive in such horrific events - the likes of murder, or assault - this world is inherently different from the civilized society I cherish. In an era where all that matters is martial prowess, the only solution is to maintain said discipline at the highest possible standard. In my previous life, what had mattered was signaling that I was a good manager of human beings, able to lead them into their predetermined boxes for predetermined outcomes. Such a skill is still useful here, but on a more immediate scale. While ordinarily, my resources would be assigned to accomplish tasks that would lead the company to greater heights, now my resources are assigned to 'not die' and 'kill our enemies'. It is a refreshingly simpler set of tasks then any prior commitments, as everyone here is ultimately dedicated in the extreme to accomplishing said two tasks.
After all, it is easy to dedicate a person to their work when their life depends on their success.
I didn't see anyone who needed immediate assistance, my box of time doing its job splendidly of slowing down their forces. The battlefield itself was a simple one this time. The insides of the fort were run down, a dilapidated mess of rusty metal and broken wood that formed what looked more like a death trap then an actual fort. The stone bricks underneath my feet were coated in moss and grass, and I snarled with disgust as I could feel the wet garbage seeping into my boots. It'd be such a pain to clean those, damn it. But, as I was examining the battlefield, a female knight raised her sword with a snarl, shouting a string of words I had been dreading.
"Heavenly wind, carry us to the fountain of power! Esuna!"
No! Why do they always have to make the battlefield so ridiculously annoying to fight on?! Just remain easy targets and let us kill you! If you hadn't lived this way, you wouldn't have had to die in the first place you idiots!
My box of time shattered before the spell, the wave of holy magic erupting in a fountain of power that encoated the area. I spat a half muttered curse, but another mage was engaging us, and I covered my body in mana, before collapsing it. My body vanished, flickering next to her; ignoring her startled glance as I jammed a katana in her side. Her horrified eyes followed me as I drew it from her body, watching coldly as she fell. The knight who had cast the spell looked at me in horror, and I flicked the blood off the blade before sheathing it with a curious look.
"You… All of you… Are you monsters who feel naught at the deaths of your fellow man!?"
"You consider yourselves men?" Algus asked as he turned from one of the knights, placing his sword on his soldier. "Men do not burn down villages and kidnap their liege lords, girl."
"Is the right to be paid so callous to the likes of you nobles?! Are we not humans, just like you!? If you cut us, can you not see the blood that pours from our veins?"
Algus barked a laugh, tapping his sword against his head as he leaned forward, opening his mouth to speak, but I spoke first.
"Humans?" I said with a raised eyebrow. "Brigands are less than human. More worthless than animals. A brigand is someone who deserves only the fire and fury of hell itself. If you were a human, you would have lived honestly, like the rest of us."
"It is only due to the nobles that we even must fight! If they viewed us as they should… In the eyes of God, all men are equal!"
Algus straightened his shoulder, his brow furrowed in a contempt so complete that it could only be called pure revulsion. "Animals such as you have no god!"
She let out a monstrous scream and rushed him as he spoke, proving herself to be a total idiot. Seriously, doesn't anyone understand what a 'battlefield' is? There's more than just you and whoever you're fighting on it, and the consequences of your actions might be swift and immediate.
I held out a claw-like hand pointed upwards, and concentrated mana underneath her feet. It was heavier, a denser material then I would ordinarily use to prepare a spell, but that was purposeful - even a support mage has to have some form of attack.
"Revenge of a fallen star," I hissed, crushing my hand into a fist. "Gravity."
The ground collapsed beneath her, and she let out a shriek as she fell downwards into the rubble, Algus moving to engage as Delita stopped by my side, looking at her with frustration.
"Degurechaff," he muttered with a tight grip on the handle of his blade, "Is she truly our enemy?"
"As the leader of the troop we were told to crush, is she not, Heiral?"
Her screams as she struck at Algus echoed through even the murkiness of the rain. Seriously, this girl was taking this entirely too personally. As a human, I naturally don't want to die. I'm even willing to kill in order to remain alive. This is the most basic level of human interaction - to 'eat' or 'be eaten'. If you didn't wish to be eaten, you shouldn't have sunk as low as criminal behavior.
"Is it truly all because of a difference in birth?" Delita asked, staring at the sky as it poured water down on us. The rain made it hard to see as the sun lowered itself to slumber, the moon already beginning to crest over the edge of the horizon. "All this death, all this bloodshed, for such a small and insignificant thing?"
"If they wished to live well, they would have followed the law, Heiral."
"Hah… You would take such a cynical view, Degurechaff," he muttered, clutching his sword. "Very well then."
He moved away from me, clashing against another swordsman, his blade moving like lightning when it met his opponent's, the two men engaging in a duel.
Ramza had made his way back over to me, and he watched with grim eyes, his mouth curved downwards into a vicious scowl as the rain roared around us, lightning hammering down and setting his figure with a flash of white. Algus and the woman struck each other, and Ramza's fist clenched around his spear so tightly that I could see his knuckles whiten.
"Enough of this," he hissed. "Enough of the bloodshed, the dying, the screaming."
He walked forward, and his spear twirled as he disarmed the two with one hand, grabbing Algus by the collar.
"Look around you, Algus! What victory have we achieved? Slaughtering innocents? Killing those with naught to their name!?"
"Did they not strike first, Ramza?" Algus said with a furious rage, grasping at the other blond's collar. "Did they not rape, murder, and kidnap before we ever set out?!"
"Not like this. This death, the screams in the air… By God, I can't stand it."
The woman looked at him shakily as he turned away from Algus in disgust, walking back towards me.
"Go."
What?
"Go, whoever you are. Run from this. Go back to your life. If you come in front of me again, I…"
"Milleuda Folles," she said, her face held up with determination. "I care not for your petty forgiveness, Beoulve. You bear the name of the nobility, and you shall now and forever be my enemy."
"Go, before I change my mind."
She gave him a dirty look, and Ramza stood next to me with stoic eyes and clenched fists as she began to stagger away.
Let her go? Ramza, you idiot! She's one of the leaders of the Brigade in the first place! If you won't do anything about her, she'll just end up rallying another series of troops to try and execute on their ridiculous demands again. Ugh, fine. As always, the dirty work is left to the working class people like me. I drew a katana from my side.
"Degurechaff?" Ramza whispered to me. "What the devil are you doing?"
"Brave weapon," I hissed, staring at Milleuda's back. "Turn to a deadly blaze-"
Ramza's eyes widened, and he started to move. I didn't bother looking at him, the sword already shaking with power as I raised it. You bastard, leaving this to me. Zalbaag said to protect you, right? This is just protecting the future you, from your own stupidity.
"Kikuichimonji."
The sword exploded in my hands, sending out a massive burst of fire towards the woman, who turned with a look of horror in her eyes-
-And Ramza intercepted them, His spear moving like a whirlwind as it burst with electricity, the attack halting where it stood. He blocked me. He blocked me! I'm trying to save his life, and he's stopping me! This idiot, fine. It's just like the entrance exam then, isn't it?
I'll have to teach him another lesson.
"Leave," he said to Milleuda, who was watching the both of us with wide eyes. "This is a personal matter."
"Haaaa?" I let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "As expected, Beoulve, you've managed to muck everything up even without trying. She'll go to the Brigade, and they'll come after us. Use your head, will you?"
"Tanya-" Ramza's fist clenched around his spear. "If I let you kill her, I fear I'll lose myself to you."
What does that even mean, Ramza? You're not talking sense at all! This lesson's going to be way stricter than the last one if you keep this up, do you hear me!
"Move, Beoulve. I don't want to hurt you."
Our troops had stopped their efforts in taking prisoners, the idiots that they were. You lot aren't involved, so stay out of it! This is just a… a… a disagreement between co-workers, alright! Sure it's embarrassing to do it so publicly, but it's still fundamentally a disagreement! I curled my fingers around my staff, and Ramza drew his sword.
"No Tanya," he said with a sad sort of smile as he pointed his sword at me with his right hand, his left still holding his spear. "I won't."
This idiot really thinks that if he calls me by my first name, I'll suddenly start blushing and stammering like a schoolgirl? That it'll make him correct, because he knows my first name? We've been going to school together for over a year! I should hope you know my first name, after all the time we've spent together!
"I won't let you kill her for the crime of being born. If I did, what would be the difference between us and the Brigade?"
Ramza's point was idiotic. This entire situation was so stupid I wanted to scream.
"Fine," I hissed, twirling my staff. "If you won't listen to reason, then I'll just have to make you understand."
"Oh God," a voice said from behind us. "Are they really going to-"
"Get to cover! Get to cover as fast as possible!"
"Hah…" Ramza let out a breathy laugh as he held his sword steadily at me, like a kid who didn't understand that weapons were dangerous, and to be pointed at enemies. "What was it you said to me when we first met?"
"This world is a harsh one," he said, lightning running down his sword as his face grew determined. "Both cruel and unforgiving. It is no place for the weak. Leave this world to the strong, and go running back to your charmed life of peace."
He cut through the air, and a bolt of lightning struck two feet from me. What? What the hell was he doing? Those weren't sword techniques, was he… Was he casting spells through his sword?
Ramza, this is why you're best aimed at my enemies, not at me!
"I suppose—" his words high and hesitant as his lance burst into flame, and he took a step forward, "—I just want to test myself."
"Beoulve, cease this ridiculous display and let me kill her!"
He rushed me, and I flickered, leaving an after image behind, but he endlessly plowed forward, the flaming spear in his left hand carving towards my face with such a blistering speed that it was all I could do to blow up yet another katana, the howling winds the blade summoned clashing with his spear, the endless slices of energy barely managing to batter back the magic he was somehow pouring into the thing.
"Tanya," he said in a breathless voice, and I could swear that it was Zalbaag speaking in front of me, not Ramza. "I have grown strong."
And that was when he tried to stab me, the bastard.
I flickered out of his grip, my staff gripped in my hands as I started casting, layering spells on top of each other. The things I would usually place on Ramza to let him slaughter our enemies went onto me - ha
ste, shell, protect; the colors wove themselves around me like an endless stream, as Ramza came for me again. I didn't let him approach, already pouring mana into another katana - it was one in eight. One in eight, unless you overloaded it.
This one did not.
A wave of flaming energy burst around Ramza, whose eyes narrowed as he ducked backwards to avoid it. I watched him move, still muttering spells under my breath. Damn it, damn it, damn it. I should have never avoided black magic, what a stupid idea! I don't have any offensive long range spells, and this idiot can apparently cast through weapons! What kind of monster is he?
"Stop it, Beoulve," I said with a frown. "This lesson is going to get more and more brutal by the minute."
"Lesson? But you're on the run, Degurechaff," he said with a smile. I flushed, glaring at him. He stops me from saving future Ramza and for what? To do our standard byplay of banter? This isn't the academy Ramza! Get over yourself! "Isn't it you who told me to never give up an advantage?"
Not against me, idiot! Do you honestly think I bothered training with you all that time so that way you could try to murder me?! Get it together, you brat!
"I've had enough of your tantrum, Beoulve," I said. "If you get out of the way, I can still catch her."
"Always so aggressive…"
"Beoulve, I'm warning you!"
He let out a sigh, before twirling the sword in his hand as ice started growing on it, the element slowly encroaching over the blade until it encased it entirely.
"Have you any idea how those words you said cut to my soul? As I lay on the ground, staring upwards at the sky… All I could think of was how I could prove you wrong."
Wrong? Wrong!? You absolute buffoon, I was trying to save you! You're a noble! You could have taken a backseat like your sister, and lazed around all day while attending easy classes at a normal school instead of a military academy! Instead, you're out here with me in the dead of night, dueling for the sake of a bandit woman!
"I never meant for you to care that deeply about what I said."
I could feel the spells enhancing my senses, and it meant that I was prepared when Ramza raised his sword, cutting it through the air. A blast of ice carved its way into existence where I stood, and I flickered out of it once more, making his brow furrow. Good. It shouldn't be easy to fight me, right? Even though he's ridiculous, all I have to do is be more ridiculous.
I forged a box of time around him, the flickering walls of mana giving him pause as he glanced at them, his body slowing down as he tried to move. He grinned at me from behind the box, and I smiled back. Something was racing in my body, making me move faster, making me feel stronger. What was it? What was this rush of blood that ran through my head, that encompassed my body and made it feel so much lighter?
Ahh…
Is this adrenaline?
"Your tricks are always so interesting," he said, twirling his spear. "But even so-"
His spear flared up, an explosion of flame coating its tip, his legs tensing with energy as he grinned like a madman at me. His body vanished, a surge of power erupting from his legs as he smashed through the top of my box like it wasn't even there, the magic slowing him, but not enough to actually slow him down. I'd have to triple layer, maybe even quadruple layer it in order to prevent this idiot from moving. Ramza was a devil. He careened towards me like an out of control rocket, his spear held back, and I let out a mad laugh.
"Fine, Ramza! Let's dance, you idiot!"
I pulled a katana out, the weapon barely holding on as Ramza crashed into it, and poured mana into it. More. More. How far can it go? That's not really the question, is it?
The question is…
How far can I make it go?
More mana. The weapon was already shining with light, a high pitched whining sound that echoed through the air, intermixed with… Was that laughter?
Who the devil was laughing?
Ah. It's me. It's me and Ramza. We're locked to each other, and neither of us can stop laughing.
"Coming this close," I said again, smiling so wide my face started to hurt, "That was a mistake."
I cracked the mana.
The sword exploded, shards of it carving across my skin, one of them jamming into Ramza's arm, making him stagger backwards, dropping his spear. I pulled a knife from my boot, and rushed forward, angling it upwards so it would slip easily into his side. He grinned at me in response, pulling his own knife and I could see a flash of steel as it slammed into my arm.
We embraced with blood.
"You're an idiot," I whispered, coughing. "Stupid beyond belief. She'll try to kill you, you know that, right?"
"Aye," he replied, his teeth covered in red. "But is it not better for the two of us to settle our differences this way, instead of with her head?"
"I hate you, Ramza."
"I can't say the same for you, Tanya."
My eyes flickered, darkness beginning to cover them as de Floure approached, a panicked look in her eyes. Mana swirled around her, as she began to desperately heal the two of us. Seriously, Lily, take a break okay? We've both suffered worse during training. Knife to the side? Between the ribs? Please. I nearly disarmed - literally and figuratively - him once with a lightning spell. Beoulve's built of tougher stuff than the rest of you, so I'm allowed to try a little harder against him.
"Don't…" I choked out, clutching his arm. "Don't tell Dycedarg."
"I wasn't goin-"
"Don't!"
"Aye…" he murmured, his eyelids fluttering. "I won't."
Damn it.
Now the score's 566-3 in verbal sparring with Ramza.
We collapsed into darkness, and I saw nothing.
xxx