The Wind…I always enjoyed the wind; it could be subtle, it could be sweet, gentle, angry, destructive and even healing. You could feel it all around you, caressing your very soul, as if it were hugging you. Paired with an orange gold sunset, no one could ask for a more perfect embrace. Strange this one area never gets snow, especially this time of year
I wonder when last did I take the time to just enjoy the wind or anything for that matter. When last did I just sit and feel all around me, and let go of the struggles of my life with the changing of day to night.
It probably happened before my father passed (murdered). My innocence shattered, when months later my hands were stained in blood. Blood perpetuated by a false pretense. Those not of noble blood, cried out to be heard, sacrificing life and limb for their country during the Fifty Year War, and all they got in return for their sacrifice was nothing and scorn.
So the Dead Men rose up, to make their voices heard, but of course silly me, knew not then, my own brother used their strife for his own gain.
Sigh!
Harping on that tragedy will get me no closer to what I have to do, let alone how to go about doing it.
If only I knew how to do it!
Sent back via a wish made in dying, to right the wrongs of my family, and ensure the future is better for it.
But Unlike then, I am now truly alone.
Alma, my dear sister will give me her strength, but she can't, not yet, not when Dycedarg is so closely bound to her, after she bombarded him with a means to be of use to the family. Even worse being that she's Ultima's vessel.
Is this how Delita felt I wonder, when he was alone, making his plans to change the world. Maybe I should go find him. Tell him everything, and together we can do it.
I chuckle to myself.
Where would I even look for him, when next we meet he'd be a Knight-Devout gaining the skill of a Holy Knight.
While at the time, I stood stagnant in my guilt and self pity (Which I know, is what i'm doing now). He became something more. Then I met Gafford Gaffgarion, joined his mercenary charade, not knowing how close he was to my brother.
The Fell Knight, a man once respected by all, a leader among the now destroyed Eastern Sky. Who over time during the war morphed into a butcher. He then proceeded to do the unthinkable and perform the rite to become a Fell Knight.
In my own desperation I did just that, I needed the power to save my sister, so I stepped into that dark world. I still remember how that power felt. It was intoxicating, and took everything within me not to be completely consumed by it. It granted me what I needed then, but it's not a power I want to rely on this time around.
Though that begs the question of what power do I want. Becoming a Knight-Devout is something the church can grant. Though would I subject myself to the lie of Ajora for power?
I killed for power, so it's not outside the realm of consideration.
My intention of heading to our Ancestral home was so that I could use the Island to regain all the skills I'd picked up in my Journey in Fighting the Lucavi, within at least a year. I mean it was enough back then, but I'd lost so much, so many people gave their lives for me, squadrons of recruits decimated in my quest.
I'd rely heavily on Agrias, Cid, Beowulf, Reis, Mustadio, Construct 8, Rafa and Malak, to do much of the heavy damage. When I learnt the power of the Dark Knight I did my best not too but, they still did much of the heavy lifting.
Sighing again, I looked towards the setting sun. Mandalia Plains had become something of a refugee in the past weeks since I'd returned to Igros. Despite the few ambushes of Red Panthers, wild chocobos and Goblins, it was still the place where I could clear my head of doubts, and strengthen my resolve.
Of course seeing a Jaw dropping Sunset, could lift anyone's spirits, so much so the crunching of heavy plates on the soil and stones barely got me to react. I figured it was probably Zalbaag. He'd left for Lesalia after our spar, but returned a few days later to reorganize the army and conduct training exercises.
I felt the weight of their presence as they sat next to me, closing my eyes, feeling the wind whip my hair, as I inhaled, I finally looked upon who I thought to be Zalbaag.
What, or who I saw, however shattered my every thought, and ability to breathe. Dressed in the legendary Grand armor. A set given to only the most Exalted Knights in all of Ivalice. A beautifully embossed, set of maroon plated armor, with intricate details along the grooves, and lining, that is said to be the language of God. The only one with this armor had died months ago if not a year. Yet they sat next to me staring into the now fading sunset.
"Fa…Father!" I croaked, not believing my own eyes.
The figure, looking strikingly like my father Barbaneth Beoulve, took in a deep breath, as his smile line flared
"There's nothing more beautiful in nature than a Sunset." he said, a deep baritone that warmed the very plains we sat upon.
The voice was too familiar, that my eyes began to shed tears I didn't think I had anymore.
"Though if I had to name one thing more beautiful, it's seeing the man my son grew up to be."
I closed my eyes and tried to stop the dam to no avail; how is this even possible, how is he here?
"Ho..w are you here, Father?" I asked, my breath stuttering as I looked him dead in the eye.
The smile lines stretched further as his warm almost chocolate brown eyes danced in mirthful bliss.
"My Son needed me, why wouldn't I be here."
My hand reached out to touch the armor and it was warm, tangible, and real. I hugged him.
"Ha!, the last time you hugged me, was when I scolded you for lifting Cid's sword, nearly sent me to my death right then and there…how you've grown since then, your mother would be proud."
I didn't say anything, I couldn't say anything, he was here. His arm wrapped around my shoulders, squeezing me into him and for a moment, it was simply a reunion of improbable proportions but neither of us cared. However after a minute or so, he began to move me off of him slightly, trying to get a look at my face.
"You really do look like me when I was your age, more so than Dycedarg and especially Zalbaag, he definitely took to his mother more keenly, like Alma, oh she is definitely your mother to a T," he said chuckling. "As for Dycedarg well, he was a fine mix I suppose, but he unfortunately seemed to have developed his mother's rather vindictive side, a side she concealed rather well."
My eyes widened as I stared into his own…
"Father, did…did you know?"
"That Dycedarg had me poisoned," he said, sighing. "Yes, I knew, though maybe it was just a tad too late to fix it, but yes I did know."
My mind raced with ever darkening thoughts, my head bowing at the unthinkable scenarios that could have played out but most all if he knew, why he said anything, why did he let himself die.
"You're wondering why I didn't say anything."
I looked up at him.
He chuckled deeply.
"Ramza, you've worn your heart on your sleeves my son, it was a burn I couldn't share, you were too young, too inexperienced and Dycedarg would have easily destroyed you."
"But ," I started, Father however raised his hand.
"Zalbaag if he had known, the burden would have broken him, loyal as he's always been."
"SOMEONE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN!" I Yell, causing a flock of resting birds to scatter.
Standing up in fury I began pacing, fist tightly wound.
"Ramza, my son, it wouldn't have saved me, it was my time."
"You don't know that"
He chuckled.
"You look so much like me, when I was young, when I learnt I could no longer be cured, it made me regret many things. Most of all how little time I had with my children, especially you and Alma."
"Then why did you keep it to yourself, Mossfungus is curable and Alma was, already powerful in the healing arts." I snapped.
"When I learned of my disease,Ramza, it had progressed too far already. I was a man on borrowed time, so I set out to stop the War, so you and your sister could live a more peaceful life." he shook his head, looking at the stones beneath him. "I thought at least Dycedarg wouldn't hurt the both of you, including Delita and Tietra, you unfortunately got your naivety from me."
"Yes, well everything went to shit."
"I know, I saw all of it, I saw what you endured, I saw the Man you became and what you sacrificed, and I see now, that you've returned to the past, you're struggling to find an answer."
"Answer?" I questioned.
"Yes, an answer, as to what to do, to set about the change you want." he said, scratching his Chin.
I sighed plopping down next to him again, my anger still boiling, but no longer overflowing. I stared down at my father as his mind raced with what he wanted to say.
"Ramza, you aren't Delita."
I looked at him with a confused expression. I knew that already.
"You aren't Delita, he'd always been gifted with his quick wit and rather talented Sword arm." he said this time looking at me, and focusing his eyes on my own.
"Yes, I'm well aware of Delita's skill, I'd never beaten him in anything, to my own chagrin."
He chuckled.
"You do know what that is?"
"Father I don't see what that has to do with anything, other than slamming my already fragile self-esteem to the ground."
He chuckled again, which made my anger flare.
"Ramza, when you fought the Lucavi, Templars and all manner of creatures, did you question why you could do it? Or did you just do it?"
"I mean I didn't really have time to think about that, I was branded a Heretic, always on the run and the Alma got taken" I said, confused again.
"Precisely!" he shouted, startling me a bit.
"Ramza you accomplished feats beyond what normal and abnormal men could do."
"I always had help though, Agrais, Mustadio…Uncle Cid."
"No matter how powerful Cid was, or Lady Agrais, they couldn't always protect you, you had to do so yourself, you killed the Lucavi possessing, the Cardinal, you defeated Wiegraf, who mind you, gave your brother Zalbag a run for his money on numerous occasions, by yourself, not to mention Gafgarion who was my equal for awhile."
"I mean, Wiegraf was consumed by his anger, he wasn't the same, and Gafgarion became a brute."
"Does that diminish their skills?" he asked
I shook my head.
"Ramza your biggest weakness, as a child has always been doubt in yourself." he said, putting his hand on my shoulder, tugging me to look at him. I hadn't even realized I looked away.
"You doubted whether you belong as a Beoulve, a doubt put there by those around you, including myself."
"Father you never.." he cut me off.
"I should have done better to shield you and Alma from that. I loved your mother, popular to disbelieve as it may seem. I did, but when she passed," his eyes welled up, and he began to swallow hard. "No, that and the war is no excuse, I should have protected you better, but I assumed your elder brother would."
"Father."
"I placed too much on their shoulders, Dycedarg's especially, made him focus so heavily on our family's name, so much so I didn't see it morphing his sense of pride into a dark obsession to make our family rulers of men."
"Father, that's not on you, Dycedarg he, he was always overly ambitious"
"Still as your father…I digress, what's important Ramza is, that you doubt yourself, and doubt makes the body heavy, the mind muddled, and spirit fragile."
"What's not to doubt, I don't know what to do, or where to start, because I get this feeling, that I've already irrevocably changed the future, so even if I know what will happen, I'm not sure if it will be the same way."
"The only constant in this life Ramza is change, it's how we handle change that truly separates us from people. Not our blood. You are a Beoulve, but more importantly you are my son. I have absolute faith that you will do what's right, because you've done so already."
My father wrapped his arms around me, though where there was weight, this time it felt almost as if a cloud had touched me, it was then I noticed he'd become translucent.
"Father !" I cried.
"It would seem my time is up, I had so much I wanted to say, but my duty was to give you some closure, and tell you to stop doubting yourself my son."
" I don't know If I can do this again, especially with you."
"You can, and you will, that's the beauty of Faith, it doesn't simply mean worship of God, you can place faith in others as well, and you Ramza, you are My Son, never forget that."
"Father don't go…!"
"I love you my Son, You can do this, you can find a way."
I buried my head in my hands.
"Oh one last thing," my head whipped up, "I left something for you when you came of age in my study, just pull the Sword out of the Knights Armor's hand near the fireplace…and you'll see, not even your brothers know of this."
He chuckled, a mirthful one at that, as he faded away into nothingness, and just like that I was alone, the sun, having complete set, revealing the night sky, that danced with an array of stars.
I just cried. I screamed, and yelled, even destroyed a few stones with my fist… in a fit of rage. After a while, I slumped to the ground. Everything that happened was completely un-Knight like but I couldn't care any less.
Then as I stared at the stars above, recollecting my father's words, and even questioning whether it all really happened, I felt myself begin to drift towards the memories of the future; my past. My father was right, even if everything changes, it doesn't change what I have to do, just how I go about it.
I need to train in the isles, get stronger. I need to find a way to the Princess, she will still have an assassination attempt on her life. Delita will still become a Holy Knight and work with the Church. The Stones will come into play soon, if they haven't already, I need to get my hands on one earlier than before. My mind began to buzz with my father's words again.
I had no time to doubt, a year may seem long but it wasn't, especially seeing as I had less of it to prepare myself.
Getting off the ground I made my way to my Chocobo which had dozed off some few meters away, scratching its plume, she immediately popped to life, which was filled by heavy squawking
"Sorry girl, we stayed longer than intended, let's head back shall we."
I holstered myself upon her and we rode off to Igros.
The next day came quickly, I woke up much later than usual, as well, I didn't return till dusk at the Castle. Zalbaag had made his way into the city, while Dycedarg had apparently left for Gariland…interesting! Traveling to Gariland knowing how badly it snowed there. Well whatever he's up to now can wait.
Looking around the Castle I also found no signs of Alma, did she go with Dycedarg to Gariland?
The maids and butlers, who did their work diligently, paid no heed to me.
I was left alone, and for the first time I was thankful. I quickly scarfed down some breakfast and made my way to my father's study.
Dycedarg had his own study made for himself, leaving my father's old hovel, practically untouched. So opening the door to it proved a little challenging, as I knew not where the keys were, however after some dexterous attempts at picking the lock, I got it open, to which I was immediately slapped with a heavy cloud of dust, causing a coughing fit.
Note to self, I should clean this place when I have the time.
Looking around, while fanning the dust away, the room was large, filled with memorabilia from his time at war, knick knacks from his travels, along with various racks of armor pieces bent and damaged. I'd guess he'd worn those to battle.
The Large rug in the center that holds the wooden Mahogany coffee table my mother gifted him before Alma and I were born, Father did like his Mahogany. A gentle light also peaked in from the outside, though for how long, I knew not, the snow had been rough this time around. Despite the nostalgia however,the room was stuffy, warm and hard to breathe in.
The fireplace near the western wall was blackened, with a few chunks of dried and brittle wood still laying there. I'd probably suffocate if I lit a flame. So instead I made my way to the curtains, to reveal the midday sun, which was mostly covered by gray clouds, but the limited light was enough to brighten the study…abit.
The old memories desperately wanted to surface, but I pushed them down. To give validity to whether I'd seen my father or if it were a fever dream I'd developed from traveling through the snowy valleys, towards the greenlands of Mandalia.
As the light bounced around the room, my eyes wandered back to the fireplace, where to its left alone a set of silver Plate Armor, stood upon a rack. In its left hand a longsword point downwards was spied.
What could father have hidden in this Armor? I couldn't be sure, but in order to know, I had to take the sword from its hand.
Walking towards it, I placed my hand on the pummel, hoping to lift off, but the thing felt like it weighed more than the Castle, it wouldn't budge. So instead I tried to pull it towards me, it worked, It was still heavy as all hell, But as I pulled I realized the tip of the blade was in the stone floor, and as I pried the blade from the knight's hand, a loud Click! rang through the room.
This was then followed by a rather ear numbing stone on stone grinding that might as well as caused me permanent ear damage.
At the source of the noise, the fireplace had begun to split in half, moving apart to reveal a staircase leading downwards.
What in the world! When was this even built?
Sighing, this must have caused quite a ruckus and no doubt people would come to investigate, thus staring into the dark void, I descended, and immediately, the braziers on the wall lit up leading down a narrow hallway.
Whenever this was built, one thing I do know is that it was definitely a long time ago, sometime before my own grandfather.
Taking it all in, I eventually followed the lights, fighting cobwebs, spiders, lizards, and all manner of creepy crawlies. The path itself had many twists and turns that I probably ended up spending the better part of an hour to finally get to the end of this maze
To my surprise, a large iron door greeted me. Oval shaped, kind of like an egg, with various patterns, that looked rather similar to that of Northern Sky symbols, with its handle being placed at the center.
What could my father have kept in here? Though I guess this truly also answers whether or not I did speak to him. The evidence of this place made that clear. The answer of how is a different matter entirely. If I had a stone in my possession it would have made complete sense, in a miracle sort of way.
Either way it matters little right now, taking a deep breath, I grasped the handles pushing the door open. It was quite heavy, taking all my strength to budge the damn thing but I did somehow get it open.
Inside of a rather sizable room, already lit in that familiar warm orangey glow, was something that truly made my Jaw drop to the floor. Inside was a myriad of coffers brimming with Gil, gemstones and all manner of rare materials.
Additionally there are weapons, armors and heaping pile of potions, phoenix downs and other vast array of items, that made my head spin trying to count it all.
"What the hell!," I shouted audibly.
There must have been enough Gil to support an entire army for at least two winters. How on earth did my father hide all of this? Why on earth did he not use this for the people.
Looking around, partially gobsmacked, I finally noticed at the farm end a small wooden table and chair. A lamp sat directly in the middle, along with what I could make out in the distance, some parchment.
Walking towards it, I probably almost tripped over boxes of Gil and gemstones numerous times. As I got closer, the weirdest thing I found was a ladder hidden behind a stone column that led upwards to a trap door. As If couldn't be even more surprised there behind the staircase, was another section of this weird basement/treasure vault, left unexplored.
Though before going further I made it towards the table. Upon it were Seven letters, waxed sealed, with our families crest. The paper had degraded slightly from its time down below, but it was still in relatively good quality.
Flipping one over, the unmistakable hand writing of my father beckoned my eyes to the name of the person this letter was penned to. This letter was meant for Alma, meaning the others were meant for the rest of us.
Flipping the rest over I was rather shocked to find that two were for me, one was meant for Zalbaag another for Delita…one for Tietra, one for Alma and the last for Count Orlandu. None were meant for Dycedarg; father probably penned them before he became completely bedridden. Though it's quite telling, what he must have felt, not having penned one to his eldest son, who he knew poisoned him.
"Father…"
With a shaky breath, I took up one of the two letters for myself, scribbled in small lettering just underneath my name was "Read this First" and so I did just that. Breaking the seal with a knife, I pocketed before coming down here.
Dear Ramza,
My Son, how much you've grown, each day you flourish I see hints of myself as a younger man, wanting to head off into the world to do good and make my family proud.
Yet I also see much of your mother's warmth within you. You and Alma both had such little time with her, she was truly a remarkable woman, who captivated me like no other had before. To Dycedarg and Zalbaag's dismay.
With each passing day my body grows weaker, and so does my mind ever so drift towards your mother. I will see her soon. This I know, but it's shameful. Dycedarg and Zalbaag gained much from me as they grew, including my wisdom and experience, which neither you nor Alma will have as you take to the world as Adults. Thus as a Father I believe it is my duty before death to leave you with something. This letter and this place you stand in shall not be revealed to you until your eighteen year, but what you stand for in my son is your inheritance. All I can leave you and your sister is the wealth I amassed in my younger days. How I did so is irrelevant.
You will see next to this table a ladder that leads elsewhere, the key is under the lamp. When you do get there, please open the other letter.
Ramza my son, I know in the days and years to come much turmoil will hit you, and revelations of things done may attempt to break the good man I know you too be. Remember this however, You are my Son. The Son of Barbaneth Beoulve, but most importantly the Son of Seraphina Lylia Lugria, and we both Love you dearly my son and believe that you will follow the path you are meant to follow. I hope your brothers continue to treat you the same as they always have even after I'm gone and that Delita and Tietra will be there for you in the worst of times, for they are as my own. When I do go, I'll make sure to tell your mother all about you.
Live Well, Live True and most importantly, don't doubt yourself, Have the Conviction to follow your Heart.
Love,
Your Father.
Wiping the tears from my eyes, I folded up the letter, placing it inside my shirt, staring at the other letters. I gathered them up and took an old sack that was just laying about and placed them in there, tying the straps to my shoulder.
I kept the other letter addressed to me in my hands, before lifting the lamp, that revealed the Key to the trap door. Taking it, it oddly felt very heavy, even though it probably barely weighed a pound. Taking the Lamp with me just in case, I rounded the ladder to investigate the hidden area behind it. It revealed more Gil but also more weapons and armor, but there was also, sitting upon a single granite podium, a book.
Wrapped in fine leathers, and detailed by, what I assume to be a master leatherer. Getting up closer to inspect the book, I noticed that near the opening were two straps, held together by a buckle that had a keyhole in it.
Father must not have wanted anyone to read it if he went through all that trouble, but he wouldn't have left it to me to find if he didn't want it read either. So I did what I thought best and grabbed it, stuffing it in the sack with all the letters. It was a sizable book so it still poked out slightly.
Glancing at everything else, there were finely made vases, dining sets made of pure silver etc.
It made my head spin with the thought of how much actually resided in this space. It was as if I'd found a legendary Pirates horde.
Shaking my head, I made my way to the ladder, taking another breath to calm my nerves, I knew I was about to be surprised again, but I was hoping it would be a minimal one, and nothing up there would be any more surprising than what I found down below…
Oh how wrong I was.
Sorry for the delay, I probably rewrote this chapter 5-6 different times not really liking how it was coming out so I kind of settled for this one. Also probably at the end of the day I'll go back and edit some mistakes in previous chapters to make it flow better. I do hope you enjoy this chapter and i'm currently working on Chapter 6.
I don't own FFT (Unless your talking about mt WOTL copy for Psp), that is clearly Squeenix's own. I just make kinda badly written stories on it.