Finding My Way Back To You

by ShanoaWarrior

Brought back from the dead through the power of the holy stone, former Knight Templar, Izlude Tingel, is now able to keep his promise to his love, Alma Beoulve, whom he had died to protect and searches for her in post-Lion War Ivalice. Sequel to 'When Love Awaits'. Other pairings include Ramza/Agrias, Beowulf/Reis, Delita/Ovelia, Mustadio/Meliadoul, Rad/Alicia, Malak/Lavian.

44. The Demon in Your Heart

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy Tactics. I write this for your enjoyment only. I'd like to thank my co-writer and editor, Falchion1984, for his help in making this fic possible. Enjoy and please review!

Co-Author's Note: Falchion1984 chiming in again. Dang, but this has been a long project. And, a fun one! Anyhow, a way's back, I played Final Fantasy XII which, in case you didn't know, also takes place in Ivalice. My, admittedly questionable, understanding of the timeline suggests that Final Fantasy XII took place centuries, perhaps even millennia before Final Fantasy Tactics, hence it's being referred to as "Ivalician antiquity". This is why there's a cameo by Yaizmat - you know, the optional superboss with FIFTY MILLION HP, because that's oh so necessary - and Ramza wondering what Balthier would do in such a situation. There's also a reference to a certain nigh-legendary series of point-and-click adventure games, so see if you can find it.

Finally, in the interest of friendly competition, I beat Yiazmat in Final Fantasy XII: The Zodiac Age. Have you done the same? For that matter, have you beaten his tougher self in the PS2 original? If so, tell me in the comments and blow my mind.

Chapter 43: The Demon In Your Heart

"By the power vested in me by the Holy Church of Glabados, I now pronounce Sir Damien Mitchel and Duchess Catherine Seymour, husband and wife," High Confessor Ryker announced, his voice carrying clearly to everyone in Lesalia Castle's elegant chapel. Any one of Lesalia's infamous gossipmongers and social climbers would have killed to have borne witness to such a momentous occasion.

Not only were the King and Queen in attendance, which was a potent draw in and of itself, but so too were a variety of prominent marquesses, earls, and counts. Though the War of the Lions had drastically thinned the ranks of Ivalician nobility, ending many lines and leaving as many others bankrupt and/or exiled, seemingly to the point where every surviving and solvent noble in Ivalice could fit in that room, all manner of nouveau riche were keen to rub elbows with established lines that could prove valuable partners.

In particular, with the young Dukes of Lionel and Favoham.

Most of these came away disappointed upon learning that the Duke of Lionel was happily married and that the Duke of Favoham was courting a lady knight. Those who floated the notion of concubinage were turned away, rather forcefully, and ejected from the premises.

But, regardless of who was keen to rub elbows with whom, the bride and groom nonetheless stood at center stage. The Wyvern knight was clad in elegant ceremonial armor and the Duchess of Lionel was clad in an elegant white wedding gown that rivaled even that of the queen on her own wedding day.

The presence of Ryker was also quite unusual, but served to add yet more magnetism to the occasion. Normally, the High Confessor would preside only over the marriage of royal couples, but had apparently made an exception in the case of Sir Damien Mitchel and Duchess Catherine Seymour. Officially, this was done upon the request of the King and Queen of Ivalice themselves, though it was unclear as to just why this request was granted. So too was the reason High Confessor Ryker's jaw seemed to tighten slightly whenever he met King Delita's gaze. The popular raven-haired Wyvern knight and Duchess of Lionel were also the first non-royal couple to be wed in Lesalia Castle's royal chapel as well, making such an occasion all the more extraordinary. And alluring.

Were Lesalia Castle not amongst the most secure structures in all Ivalice, the ceremony would've been swarmed with gatecrashers.

As expected, the Duchess's brother, Duke Drake Seymour, known to a select few as Ramza Beoulve, and his wife Agrias Oaks-Seymour, as well as their knights and most trusted companions, were in attendance as well. More than a few cooed at the sight of Duke Seymour's infant daughter perched on her father's shoulders, waving and burbling at her aunt. Others raised eyebrows at the sight of Dame Meliadoul Tingel pillowing her cheek against the shoulder of the up-and-coming master machinist Mustadio Bunanza and Duke Malak Galthana putting an arm around the shoulder of Dame Lavian Murry.

Since the royal chapel can only fit so many people, ithad to be closed off to the rest of the Lesalian populace, of which hundreds were gathered outside, waiting for the newly wedded noble couple to emerge into the waiting hails of rice and flower petals.

And this was exactly what the Pieces Stone wanted.

As Damien Mitchel and his new wife, Catherine Seymour turned from the altar and High Confessor to face the wedding guests as well as the royal couple, a scene born of nightmares began to unfold. At first, the onlookers noticed only an odd burning smell, as though some inattentive guest had managed to get his or her ensemble a bit too close to the candles that dotted the room. But then, some noted that the smell was coming from the groom, who staggered in apparent pain. Small flames of a color that none could name, but which vaguely invoked brimstone, seared a neat hole in the groom's doublet and, through the hole, fell some sort of crystal.

Though most onlookers were baffled as to what this strange crystal might be, some did notice that exceptions dotted the room. Duke Drake Seymour, his wife, and their various associates all seemed quite alarmed at this development. So too did Duchess Catherine.

As for Sir Damien, however, he looked horrified.

"NO!" he screamed, one gauntleted hand darting for the falling crystal…

…except the crystal wasn't falling anymore. Instead, it had somehow managed to snatch itself from gravity's grasp and soared up to the ceiling. Most of the guests regarded the strange phenomenon with confusion and wonderment. At the altar, the unnoticed High Confessor Ryker beheld the phenomenon with astonished recognition and a murmured prayer.

For the Duke of Lionel, however, it was the beginning of a nightmare come true.

Even though he and Agrias had been sitting in the front pews, Ramza still had not been fast enough to stop the Pieces Stone before it darted towards its next chosen host: namely, the King of Ivalice.

Confused as well as shocked, Delita had nonetheless reacted as a lifelong warrior, snatching the holy stone out of the air before it could smash his face in. The young king regarded the Stone with befuddlement for a stretching second, his brow furrowing as a hint of recognition worked its way through his confusion.

But then, both vanished as an expression of terrible pain overwhelmed his features.

Though the veins in King Delita's hand bulged with the effort, it seemed he could not release his grasp on the malevolent crystal, not even when he brought up his other hand to pry up his stricken fingers. And even when Queen Ovelia tried to pry the Stone free, she was left screaming, clutching her blistered hand as unnatural heat burned her skin.

Ramza, his heart climbing into his throat as he realized what was happening, attempted to reach Delita before the Stone could work its unholy magic. But, by this time, the crowd of guests had been driven into a panic by these sinister sights and were stampeding for the exit and, rather than closing the distance, he was carried further away by the current of the frightened crowd.

By the time he'd broken free, it was too late.

"God stone bearer, with me now do treat," spoke a voice from beyond the mortal realm.

Recalling those very words presaging Weigraf's own transformation, Ramza shoved aside one panicked guest after another, but it was futile.

"Who…what are you?!" Delita rasped out through clenched teeth.

"Delita, don't!" Ramza cried out, but his warning went unheard.

"In a way, I am like you," the voice replied cryptically. "We are more than what we seem, and very different than what we are presumed to be. We chafe under the weight of our falsehoods, of the burden of pretense, and we both want to be free."

THAT caught Delita's attention. The pain in his expression eased while confusion and curiosity flooded in to replace it.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Let me show you," the voice replied.

This time, the Stone emitted a strange cloud of fell radiance that obscured and engulfed the King of Ivalice, forcing any looking in his general direction to avert their gaze. Then, when the unnatural light faded, the onlookers saw Delita, no longer looking pained or confused, smile.

It was a mirthless smile, one evocative of a shark cornering its prey. And, when Delita spoke again, his voice, though recognizable, carried an underscore of malice that caused some to sprout gray hairs.

"You are…very persuasive," he said, almost casually.

"Then, our bargain is struck!" the voice proclaimed. "Your spirit and my flesh as one shall merge. Life undying yours forever more."

Ramza shouted again, urging Delita to renounce the bargain, but it was too late. The transformation had begun.

And to his horror, it was unlike anything he had ever seen.

Ramza Beoulve had seen his fair share of Lucavi demons, from Queklain to Hashmalum, but none seemed to even compare to what his best friend was becoming. Even Altima herself in her deadliest form, had not been as terrifying.

Not nearly.

Before the horrified eyes of everyone in attendance, the King of Ivalice began to glow with a malevolent radiance and his form slowly changed from that of a young man to a monstrosity that even God himself could not have envisioned. Even Ramza was frozen in fear as he watched Delita's dark brown hair fall out, his green eyes become dark pits as red as the fiery depths of hell, and his tanned, muscled flesh harden into metallic scales. And then, he began to grow bigger. And, bigger.

And, BIGGER!

By the time the transformation was finished, the King of Ivalice had been replaced by adragon of a size that boggled the imagination. Even the various wild dragons Ramza had encountered on his journey compared to the monstrosity before him only in as much as a garden lizard compared to Reis Dular-Kadmus' holy dragon form.

Scales of burnished metal. Wings that sported wickedly sharp blades. A sole horn longer than three men standing upon one another's shoulders. A tail no less massive and festooned with barbs the size of spears. And, nestled within each wing and encircling horn and tail alike, were massive, concentric rings of eldritch power that seemed to glow a bit more strongly with each passing moment.

At the back of his mind, which had yet to be engulfed by the tide of horror and despair that flooded the rest of his senses, Ramza realized that the creature before him bore a terrifying resemblance to Yiazmat, a monster from Ivalician antiquity that had been slain by Vaan, Princess Ashelia "Ashe" B'nargin Dalmasca, and their brave companions.

Balthier – at least, the Balthier who had traveled with Ramza – had intimated that he was the same Balthier from those ancient legends. The Duke of Lionel suddenly found himself wondering if that was true and, if Balthier were here, whether he might know some weakness of this monster that had been lost to history.

Maybe he'd even be able to explain what Panelo had meant when, upon returning to the hall of Clan Centaurio with Yiazmat's head, she'd told the Clan Leader Montblanc "You and your catchy theme song can do your own dirty work from now on!"

But, those thoughts flew from the Duke of Lionel's mind as Delita (or Yiazmat, perhaps?) let out a blood curdling roar.

Once the transformation was complete, Ramza was left frozen with horror and stupefaction. Not one of the Zodiac demons he'd faced in the past had been even a fraction that size. For a long, terrible moment, he wondered just how the demon could have manifested in so extreme a form…

…but then, he realized he already had the answer. He'd had it for days, but had failed to act upon it.

Delita was the perfect host. His lust for revenge for Teta's death, his willingness to sacrifice those he professed to be fighting for merely so that he'd have the opportunity he'd needed to make his move, the way he'd relished beguiling and then betraying those he blamed for the ills of the world, and how he'd had no compunction against framing the innocent for the deed all echoed what Agrias and others had said but which Ramza had been quick to refute.

Delita was a man of cunning, deceit, manipulation, and, above all, a man with a great and terrible capacity for hatred.

But, that was not all. He was also a man who, in the absence of a foe to outwit, outmaneuver, and conquer, had spent the last few weeks being slowly but surely crushed by the weight of his own sins. The realization that those who adored him were besotted with a lie and those who knew the truth behind the legend feared him had shattered the mental fortifications he had erected between his emotions and the reality of what he had done. He was a man who, though only too willing to believe that the ends justified the means, had grossly underestimated just how hollow such words would prove, given time for them to fester like so many wounds. And, both Delita and Ramza had grossly underestimated just how susceptible that had made the King of Ivalice to the Lucavi's temptations.

Either would've made Delita the sort of host the likes of which tantalized the Lucavi in their profane dreams. But, both?

The Lucavi could not have asked for better.

The Duke of Lionel was shaken from his reverie when he realized that Delita was laughing.

Worse, whereas the voices of Queklain, Belias, Zalera, Adramelk, and Hashmalum were perverted parodies of their host's voices, this one seemed unchanged. And, somehow, that made it even worse.

This was not the voice of a man of honor whose soul had been evicted from his very body, as Meliadoul and Izlude were certain was the case with their father. This was much more akin to Dycedarg, who had found not a slave master in the Lucavi but a partner. A willing accomplice.

And, above all, kindred in their shared maleficence.

"Ah," the creature who was once Ramza's best friend exhaled, stretching his massive form and causing the whole chapel to tremble. "That DOES feel better!"

Delita stretched again, and this time the walls around him SHATTERED. Masonry toppled, stained glass windows began hails of deadly shards, and screams rang out as the crowds outside, once waiting in gleeful anticipation, seeing the chapel disintegrating as a nightmarish monstrosity burst out of it, now ran for their lives.

The Duke of Lionel suspected it would only be a matter of minutes before all of Lesalia knew what had happened, and he shuddered to imagine the panic that would ensue.

He also wondered if he'd live long enough to worry about it.

Even if he could overcome the living nightmare his best friend had become, and even if he could bring himself to raise a sword against him, he HAD no sword. Having no reason to believe misfortune would befall this once joyous day, he had left his blade sheathed in his chambers, far out of reach.

Still, that did not stop the Duke of Lionel from taking action. Picking up Rachel, he thrust her towards Manon and instructed the boy to take her and run as far and as fast as he could. Young and clearly frightened though he was, the budding squire nodded his obeisance, took Rachel in one hand, snatched Charlotte's wrist with the other, and bolted. The latter had Ramza worried for a moment. Though he knew, albeit recalling it a split second too late, that Manon would no sooner abandon Charlotte than Ramza would Agrias, Charlotte's face had so drained of color and she trembled so violently that she looked ready to faint. And, even if she could keep her wits about her, one glance at how fat she had grown was enough to give him doubts that she could escape at all, much less keep up with Manon. Thankfully, the budding squire bore both charges gamely, weaving and shoving his way toward and then through the press of bodies that nearly clogged the too small door.

Shouting for those of his companions capable of magic to ready their spells, knowing that, without their weapons, that was all they could rely on against the creature that was once the King of Ivalice, Ramze grimly prepared for battle. The Knights of the Chimera, now having shaken off their horrified stupor, drew their swords and advanced on the newly awakened demon while Mustadio began pulling free and priming pistols which he'd concealed in cunningly sewn pockets in his ensemble.

If Delita was at all alarmed by this opposition, he didn't show it.

Quite the opposite, in fact. He seemed amused.

"Oh, is that any way to greet an old friend?" he asked, the inquiry ending in a terrible chuckle. "I will admit, this is hardly a fair contest. But, then again, I've learned from the demise of my brethren. Challenging a man who could slay six Lucavi demons to a fair fight is, shall we say, rather stupid."

It might've been Ramza's imagination, but he could swear that he could feel eyes at the back of his head following that pronouncement. Had the panic gripping whoever else was left to witness this horror tapered off, allowing drops of lucidity to trickle in? Or, were the infamous gossipmongers of Lesalia truly so committed to the trade of tittle-tattle that they'd spend their last breaths in its pursuit?

He didn't know which, though the vague possibility of the latter made the usually peaceable Duke of Lionel want to punch somebody.

Instead, he focused his mind on a powerful incantation that, in a grimly fitting irony, he had learned from the Lucavi assassins whom he'd slain along with Zalera.

"Brush off vanity and show-" he began.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Delita intoned in a singsong voice, raising one massive claw in an admonishing gesture. "You always did have tunnel vision, old friend. Always charging forward without taking in the scene first. Take a look around. Notice anything…problematic?"

After a moment's perplexity, Ramza saw what Delita was referring to.

Pinned beneath one of his claws was Ovelia.

And, as if that wasn't enough, Alma was trying to pull the Queen of Ivalice free despite Izlude trying to pull her away from the demon.

His heart climbing into his throat, Ramza turned to Lavian and Alicia. He then pointed to Delita and said in a panicked tone, "Hurry!"

The Murry twins obeyed him, as did four Chimera Knights who hacked at the demon's claws in hopes of freeing the queen, but Delita was ready for them. He swept his other forelimb into their path, sending the knights flying. The four Chimera Knights were sent hurling over the broken walls or through the gaping holes once occupied by beautiful stained-glass windows. The Murry twins smashed into what was left of the far wall of the chapel, fell to the floor, and did not rise. Sick with horror and driven beyond reason, Ramza charged next. Agrias and Meliadoul each snatched up a sword that had parted company with its owner following the first ill-fated charge and bombarded Delita with blasts of Judgment Blade, Hallowed Bolt, Crush Armor, and Crush Weapon. Several Chimera Knights charged while Rafa and Malak added Heaven's Wrath, Ashura, Nether Blade, and Corporeal Void to the onslaught while Mustadio aimed, fired, and reloaded his guns with practiced ease.

Indifferent to this latest assault - and, worse, seemingly unharmed – Delita turned to the pinned Ovelia.

"Do you remember what I said when we first met?" he asked, his tone almost conversational. "Oh, yes! "Tis your birth and your faith that rob you, not I"."

Then, he pressed down and, with a sickening splat, the Queen of Ivalice was no more.

Alma screamed as she witnessed the horrific death of her queen and best friend, her hands flying to her mouth as she turned green and looked like she was struggling not to retch. Izlude, who was the only one between them who actually had a weapon, tore the ceremonial blade from its sheath, pulled Alma behind him, and rushed the creature.

Unfortunately, his ceremonial armor and blade proved to be quite pitiful against the newly summoned Lucavi demon. As soon as he tried slashing into the gleaming metallic dragon's body, Izlude found to his horror that the creature was not made of flesh and blood at all, but some kind of liquid metal. Not only that, the demon's body quickly repaired itself, running like the liquid metal mercury, flowing over and filling the tiny furrows and leaving no hint that it had even been slashed in the first place.

Before the Wyvern knight could even think of what to do next, the metallic dragon swiftly brought up one forepaw and raked him with its razor-sharp talons. Armor was rent like paper, and the tender flesh beneath was reduced to bloody furrows deep enough to expose bone. Another swipe of those lethal talons ripped away his eyes and tore through his throat, instantly killing Izlude Tingel for the second and final time.

Alma, catatonic with horror and grief, slumped to her knees next to her newly-wedded husband's savaged corpse, and did not even notice either her brother's frantic shout of warning nor when one of Delita's forepaws came down upon her.

There was a splat, and Duchess Catherine Seymour, who was once Alma Beoulve, was dead.

"Most remarkable," Delita intoned as he absently crushed a Chimera Knight and seemed quite unbothered by the bombardment of Diving Ruination from a furious Agrias. "I almost forgot how much of a pleasure it was to take the life of someone who was in your way. I haven't relished a kill like this since I slew Goltana."

Ramza had been nearly as catatonic at Alma's death as his sister had been at losing her husband, but Delita's words jolted him back to the present as surely as if the pommel of a sword had been driven into his guts.

Why was Delita letting that slip?

"Killing Count Orlandu's doppelganger, though? Most unfulfilling," Delita went on as he grabbed another Chimera Knight, tossed him in the air, and then bit him in half in midair. "If the real Orlandu yet lives, perhaps you'll be kind enough to furnish with his new address?"

The Duke of Lionel heard soft, confused mutterings behind him, and found still more cause for despair when he realized that the demon's voice was carrying to the ears of hundreds.

Delita did not seek to kill the people of Ivalice, but to break them. To show them the treachery, deceit, and cruel bloodshed that lay beneath the veneer of their seemingly bright future.

And, ironically, he would do so with the truth.

The truth that would not liberate, but create only the hollowness that left one contemplating the futility of striving and suffering when all that was striven for proved but a fleeting, mocking dream which gave way to a world that promised nothing. The truth which would not only condemn, but create resignation to that condemnation.

Ivalice would, indeed, become a province of hell. And, its people would submit to demonic bondage once their king's corruption sapped their will to do aught else.

"Did Dycedarg Beoulve get the same thrill when he poisoned his own father for having too many scruples, I wonder?" Delita went on, delivering still more horror to all within earshot. "I wonder if Vormav Tingel enjoyed causing the Horror of Riovanes. My brethren had such a delightful partnership with them both."

Someone behind Ramza fainted, not that he could blame them. Meliadoul's teeth clenched, and she charged, shrieking, at Delita, only to be batted aside. Had Mustadio not caught her, she likely would have broken her neck upon the stone floor.

"But, partnerships do not last forever," Delita went on, his tail shooting towards Ryker and coiling about the High Confessor. "On that note, Ryker, I'd like to make one thing perfectly clear: I killed Goltana because it was in my best interests. That your predecessor ordered me to do so, and was kind enough to facilitate it, was merely a fortuitous coincidence. As was his helping Dycedarg to assassinate Larg. I am no hound heeling at the church's skirts, nor have I ever been. And, your usefulness to me has ended!"

The tail coiled about the terrified High Confessor swung up and then down, so fast that it seemed to blur. Ryker's head struck the altar and burst like an overripe melon, spraying blood and bits of brain and bone everywhere.

"Brush off vanity and show reality!" Ramza chanted again, "Ultima!"

The astral energy, summoned from on-high by that chant, had been enough to stagger a Lucavi demon and outright kill many of their lesser brethren.

Delita. by contrast, barely even blinked.

"What an interesting incantation," he remarked, though his scale steamed. "In fact, don't you think there's a ring of truth in those words? Haven't you chafed under the lies you've had to live with, the secrets you've had to keep, the sleights and insults you've had to tolerate for the "greater good"? I hadn't even realized how much I detested being called a hero when I was nothing of the sort, of loving a queen who knew better than to trust me, much less love me, of thinking I could be content with turning arrogant nobles into willing puppets when I wanted to turn them into carrion. But now, I have embraced the truth. Embraced that I enjoy bringing suffering to my enemies. Perhaps you should do the same? Perhaps you should make those who scorned you over a pack of lies pay in blood? After all, isn't the truth setting right the scales of justice something you could appreciate…Ramza Beoulve?"

There were more gasps of shock and disbelief at this, but they hardly mattered. This final blow was decisive. Not only had Delita cast aside his own legend, but he had also exposed the church's corruption and complicity in sowing turmoil and deprivation in the lives of those in professed to shepherd, More than likely, he'd throw in the truth about Saint Ajora and the Zodiac Braves, just to make sure the wounds were well salted.

It was done, and all was lost.

If not for Ivalice, then certainly for Ramza himself. Either Delita would turn Lesaiia into a charnel house and the rest of Ivalice would grovel in short order, or the demon that had once been Delita would be slain and Ivalice would be left in turmoil. And, in either case, Drake Seymour would already be unmasked as "Heretic Ramza".

Regardless of which doom befell, Ramza knew he faced a final, unwinnable battle.

But, face it, he would.

Shouting for his companions to let fly with their spells, he added more blasts of Ultima to the barrage. Yet, Delita proved every bit as impervious now as he had moments before. Though every spell found its mark, not one seemed to do lasting harm. Fire made the metallic scales turn to liquid and run, but the malformed scales would later steam, fall away, and then harden back to their original state. Ice would harden over the scales, only for scales further up to liquify, flow over the ice, and wash away the minute damage. Lighting blasted gashes and even holes in the massive body, only for the molten scales to fill in and erase the wound in the twinkling of an eye. Bullets blasted small craters in the massive beast, only for its scales to flow over and mend them.

The bombardment petered out, Ramza and his companions dizzy and near to fainting from the effort, Mustadio's munitions expended, and the Knights of the Chimera dead. But, Delita stood unharmed. Then, with a perfunctory quip of "My turn", he reared up on his hind legs, piercing the domed ceiling, and belched forth a long, licking tongue searing flames that instantly began to set everything in the chapel on fire.

Everything and everyone.

Chapel and city alike resounded with screams, both from pain and terror, and anyone who was not killed outright ran for their lives. But there was no stopping the unnatural flames. The heat in the chapel increased so rapidly that people even began to burst into flames, some from their clothes igniting and others combusting from within. Worse still, the doors were now impassable. The intense heat had melted the metal of the frames, sealing the doors shut. Worse, too many of the doomed guests had succumbed at the threshold, either having been trampled by those who made it out first or dropping dead from the flames. Their bodies had formed into a pile of carnage that barricaded the door, leaving no escape for anyone.

Small mercies, there was no sign of Rachel or her unlikely bodyguards amongst the carnage.

Gritting his teeth and fighting the pain from his skin slowly being burned down to his flesh and bones, Ramza desperately tried to reason with his friend. Even though he promised Agrias that he would cut Delita down if he were to become a Lucavi demon, Ramza knew that it wouldn't be possible without a weapon. Still, he picked up the late Izlude's blade and pointed it at the creature that had once been his best friend, hoping to catch its attention.

"Delita!" Ramza called out. "I have failed you. There's only one thing I can do for you now: I will end your misery! If ever you were a man of honor, help me to set you free!"

Unfortunately, there was no sign that Delita would oblige, nor any sign of mercy or contrition in the monstrous metal dragon's eyes. The King of Ivalice was long gone, not through possession of his body by an evil demon, but through willing alliance with hell.

Whether he prevailed against this foe or not, Ramza knew his naivety had allowed this to happen, and would surely prove the death of him. And, soon.

Without another word, the Lucavi demon that had once been Delita Hyral, opened its mouth, took in a deep breath, and released a torrent of unholy flames at Ramza Beoulve, engulfing him in searing white heat.

SSSSSS

Ramza was jolted back to wakefulness as surely as if someone had emptied a pail of Finath's River's ever-frigid water over his head. A choked gasp tore free of his lips as a cold sweat bespangled his brow. For a long, long moment, he could see little in the darkness, which made it all the easier for the afterimage of the Lucavi to fill the void. Eventually, his eyes became accustomed to the dim light and, peering around, he realized he was in the guest room at Lesalia Castle which he shared with Agrias and Rachel, courtesy of his "cousin", the king. Agrias, who had apparently gotten up earlier to feed their daughter, immediately noticed Ramza's outburst and gently placed Rachel in the crib before rushing over to her husband.

"Ramza, what's wrong?" she asked, brows furrowing with concern.

Looking into the face of his wife, seeing the stalwart woman who had captured his heart so long ago, Ramza finally managed to calm the blood thundering in his ears. After several deep breaths and a moment to take in his surroundings, he realized what he had just experienced was all just a nightmare; Izlude and Alma's wedding would not take place for at least another few days. Yet, the nightmare he experienced was so real, he could almost feel the heat of the flames erupting from the jaws of the horrific Lucavi demon that Delita became once he'd been beguiled into embracing the terrible power of the Pieces Stone.

But there was no way in hell he could tell Agrias that. She was already giving him a hard enough time about Delita as it was.

"I…I just had a bad dream, that's all," Ramza stammered.

"What was it about?"

"I…I can't remember exactly. But it was really scary…" he lied, hoping that for once, his wife would buy it. As a child, Ramza once heard his mother say that people can usually remember only the last few moments of their dreams before they woke up.

Agrias had once admitted that, after the first time she'd killed a man in battle, she'd had nightmares for weeks. Those too had been fragmentary, often with her having a sword in her hand that she didn't remember drawing and not recalling who the corpse at her feet had been.

But the dream he had of his best friend becoming a Lucavi demon, by contrast, was so vivid and real that he feared that it may, in fact, prove prophetic. At least, if he didn't do something to prevent it.

Given that Ramza had never been a deft liar, and his wife was already aware of the danger of Delita being subverted, he was worried she'd make the, rather simple, deduction about just what had him so agitated. To his relief, Agrais did not question him further. People had bad dreams all the time that they either could not remember or did not wish to speak about, as she herself could attest. So, much to her husband's relief, the holy knight decided to let it slide.

"I see… would you like something to eat or drink? I can call for one of the servants."

Ramza shook his head. Though he was, indeed, hungry, he decided it was best to leave and do what he had been intending to since his sister had last paid him and Agrias a visit: to seek out and recruit the assistance of Beowulf and Rad for the purpose of investigating Delita's alarming behavior.

"No, thank you. I just remembered something I need to take care of this morning, and it looks like I slept later than I meant to. I'll just pick up something from the kitchen. Right now, I need to have a word with Beowulf and Rad."

Agrias, being as sharp as she was, already suspected that there must have been some connection between whatever her husband dreamt of and his haste to leave. Not to mention how he seemed keen to dress, sloppily, and be gone before she could question him further. The holy knight was more than tempted to question Ramza, or even insist on going with him, but she ultimately decided that it was best for Ramza to speak with Beowulf and Rad as soon as possible. So, she said nothing as Ramza headed to the washroom and quickly finished dressing, though he looked downright slovenly, before leaving. But not before giving her and Rachael a good-bye kiss.

After leaving his wife and daughter, Ramza headed to where he knew his friends were most likely to be: the castle training grounds, where Beowulf had been giving Manon daily training in the ways of knighthood. And wherever the two were, Ramza knew that Rad was not too far away. The young Beoulve was not privy to all the details but, apparently, Manon had stumbled across a female squire and her sister who had been mistreating Charlotte and an altercation had ensued. While Beowulf, of all people, had been appreciative of Manon defending a vulnerable girl, he had been stern about Manon's…methods. Rad, upon hearing the story, had also decided to bring his own measure of decorum to the situation.

"Tell me you made those pompous bitches cry," had been his exact words.

Rad was NOT a decorous man.

Still, the dark knight, who had also been a street waif in his younger years, had been able to see something that the ever-chivalrous Beowulf had missed. Manon had been up against a stronger opponent who had had more training than him, which meant fighting fair would've been foolish. So, the dark knight decided to assist Beowulf as much as he could, for he felt that it would be good for Manon to have additional "underhanded" skills in case his knightly training did not suffice on the battlefield.

Despite his admiration for knights, Manon could understand Rad's logic. After all, his recently broken nose could attest to its validity. Rad had impressed upon Manon that knights were a bit too rigid in their thinking and fighting style, which had inspired Ramza's decision to have his companions learn, and combine, various skillsets during the War of the Lions. Ultimately, even Beowulf realized that it would be unrealistic to expect their opponents to always fight fair. And, regardless, fighting fair against a clearly stronger foe could only lead to defeat.

This was especially true of those influenced by the Lucavi, as well as those who followed the orders of their mortal shells, as the Lucavi had tended to possess those in the upper echelons of power, who themselves would be defended by cadres of seasoned warriors. And, of course, the Lucavi also tended to summon their lesser kin, the Ultima Demons, who themselves also had no compunction against fighting dirty.

Chivalry was a fine thing in an even contest, or when dealing with prisoners and noncombatants, but not against demons.

As expected, Ramza found the former Templar captain engaging in a one-on-one sparring session with Manon while Rad stood nearby observing the duo, a towel draped over his arm to wipe the young boy down whenever he needed a break. The dark knight wasn't worried about Beowulf, who had much more stamina than his trainee, but he was on the alert in case Manon got his nose re-broken.

Not wanting to interrupt, Ramza waited patiently for the sparring duo to finish before clearing his throat to catch their attention.

At the sound, Beowulf turned and found his friend approaching, his features tight with unspoken distress. Ramza's clothes also looked, to put it charitably, a bit unkempt. He likely had been in a hurry to get here and had thrown on his outfit with careless haste, not bothering to properly straighten it out before leaving his room.

Or put his boots on the right feet, Rad noted with some amusement.

Had he not picked up on the urgency etched into Ramza's features, Beowulf might have asked how Agrias could allow her husband to go anywhere looking so disheveled, especially at Lesalia Castle. A nobleman was expected to look impeccable before going out in public, and it usually sent tongues wagging when he didn't.

But, sensing that something serious must have happened for Ramza to pay no heed to his appearance, Beowulf held his tongue and allowed his friend to speak.

"S...sorry to interrupt," the young Beoulve huffed. "I hope that I didn't catch you at a bad time."

The older knight shook his head. "Not at all, Lord Drake. Young Manon and I are just about finished with his sparring sessions for today."

Turning to Manon, Beowulf said, "That's all for today, son. Meet me here again tomorrow, same time?"

Realizing that it must have been an important matter for the Duke of Lionel himself to come all the way here to speak to Beowulf instead of sending one of his servants, Manon nodded, sheathed his wooden sword, and made a bow of respect to both his teacher and the duke before leaving.

Even though Rad must've also sensed Ramza's mood, this didn't stop the dark knight from saying he hoped Manon had a good day with his "girlfriend".

The budding young squire gave a yelp, tripped, and then hastened away.

Once the boy was out of earshot, Beowulf turned to Ramza with a look of concern. Rad promptly approached the two, though he fixed his gaze on the doorway leading back into the castle. Whatever it was Ramza had to say, it wouldn't do if someone stumbled upon their discussion.

"What's the matter, buddy?" the dark knight inquired curiously. "You look so pale, did something happen?"

At first, Ramza wasn't sure how to begin. It would sound childish and insane if he told his friends he rushed over here because of a nightmare he had, even if it had seemed so real. But neither could he brush off the disturbing dream. Not when it might very well become a reality if the Pieces Stone and the King of Ivalice were ever to meet, so to speak.

"I'm sorry…," the young Beoulve apologized. "I have a favor I must ask of you. Delita…err, the king has been acting very strangely of late, and I'm very concerned about him.

Despite the fact that Ramza had not gone into too much detail over his concerns for the king, both Beowulf and Rad understood all too well what he meant. More than likely, they had by now caught wind of Delita's change of mood from Lesalia's famed gossipmongers and, despite not knowing Delita personally, were leery of this change.

"I see…what is it you need of us?" Beowulf asked, making sure to keep his voice low in case there was anyone within earshot around. Even with the precaution of Rad watching for visitors, the walls had ears in Lesalia.

Lowering his own voice, Ramza gestured for his two friends to come closer and said "I'm concerned that the Pieces Stone will find a new host in Delita…"

At this revelation, both Beowulf and Rad were startled. "What?! You know where the Pieces Stone is?"

Ramza almost kicked himself for revealing his knowledge of the holy stone's whereabouts without considering how he was going to explain that it was actually in the possession of a man long presumed dead. Who had, in fact, been dead, actually. And wasn't anymore. And that in itself would be a long story to recount, which would take time Ramza didn't really have.

"I've only recently discovered that the Pieces Stone is actually in the possession of my sister's fiancé, Sir Damien Mitchel."

Understanding dawned on Beowulf and his eyebrows rose. Unbeknownst to Ramza, the former Templar already knew about Izlude from his wife, Reis. The kindly dragonkin would never keep a secret from her husband and trusted him with everything. The fact that his own then-fiancee had been turned into a dragon and then back again was likely the only reason Beowulf had believed the outlandish tale.

"Ahh…I see. Was there a reason you could not simply take the Stone from Sir Damien? Is he reluctant to give it up, perhaps? From what I gather, he should understand that we are able to protect the Stones."

Rad's head snapped in Beowulf's direction and then to Ramza, shock writ large across his features.

"Wait, what?! Sir Damien has the Stone? And, what do you mean he "understands" that we can keep it safe?"

Ramza glared at Rad before placing a finger over his lips.

"Shh!" he hissed, hoping that nobody heard them. "Not so loud!"

Taking the hint, Rad quickly shut his mouth. Ramza didn't miss the dark knight gulping nervously, though.

"Look, it's a bit complicated, and I really wish I had time to explain. But, I don't, so I'm going to need you two to trust me on this."

Instead of pressing the young Beoulve for further details, Beowulf gently placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned forward slightly.

"It's alright, we understand. But before you say anything else, we should go someplace a little more private, yes?"

Relieved that neither Beowulf nor Rad was going to give him a hard time, Ramza breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're right. How about your room, Rad? We can't go to mine or Beowulf's for…obvious reasons."

As if he needed a reminder of how he was still single with no children, the dark knight rolled his eyes.

"Tsk, fine!" he huffed. "No need to rub it in!"

If the situation were not so dire, Ramza and Beowulf would have laughed.

SSSSSS

Once they were in the privacy of Rad's guest room, Ramza made sure to close and lock the door behind them, lest a servant accidentally come in for housekeeping without realizing the room was occupied.

Considering the state of the room, that did seem likely.

Given that they had a small, and very adventurous baby to take care of, Ramza and Agrias had been downright meticulous in making sure anything that could topple onto and injure Rachel was either out of her reach or padded out with cushions. Beowulf, long accustomed to setting the example for his fellows, took great pains to make sure his room was in excellent condition. As for Rad's room…the term "pigsty" sprang to mind.

"You making sure the maids stay in good practice?" Beowulf asked reproachfully as he gingerly removed a used plate from the floor and placed it on a table that was in dire need of scrubbing.

"Or, have you been too busy keeping Alicia and Lavian…entertained?" Ramza queried, his tone suggesting he'd rather the question went unanswered.

"Well, what else can I say?" Rad demurred. "Those two and I are…very aggressive. And, I can always appreciate a soft hand."

This blithely cheeky remark was met with two well syncopated facepalms.

"One of these days, your carelessness will be your downfall," Beowulf said gravely. "I can assure you, taking a "no limit" approach to life can end badly."

Given the gravity of the situation, Ramza almost wanted this argument to continue. Almost. But, with no small amount of reluctance, he loudly cleared his throat to get the attention of the other two men.

"So… now that we're alone, mind telling us what this is about?" Rad demanded impatiently.

Ramza brought his hands to his temples and sighed as if trying to massage away a headache at his friend's impatience. But then again, he couldn't blame Rad; the younger man had always been a tad too curious for his own good, and Ramza couldn't begin to count the times Rad had gotten them into, as well as out of, trouble because of it.

"Look, I'm sorry we have to intrude on your privacy like this," Ramza began, trying not to look at the other sort of filth in Rad's room. Apparently, he had taken to collecting some of the dirty art books called "men's magazines" that, unfortunately, also became quite common with Delita's new printing press along with The Lesalia Times. A copious collection wasstrewn all over the dark knight's room, and an accidental glance at one that had been left lying open had Ramza blushing. "But I have an important favor to ask of you and Beowulf."

Knowing few things could have Ramza this worried aside from the Holy Stones, and recalling that one such Stone had apparently found its way into the castle, it was not hard for at least Beowulf to guess what it was. And since the young Beoulve seemed confident that the Pieces Stone is currently in good hands, that left only one other thing.

"It's the king, isn't it?" he inquired. "You're worried something is the matter with him."

Grateful that Beowulf had saved him the trouble of figuring how to bring up Delita, Ramza nodded.

"Yes… my sister informed me that she found out through her friend, the queen, that the king has been acting strangely of late."

Though Ramza felt as terrible as his sister did for betraying the queen's confidence, there was no other choice. Alma could not have known such intimate details of Delita's behavior unless Ovelia confided in her. And now Ramza must confide in Beowulf and Rad if he wanted to prevent the nightmare he'd just experienced from becoming a reality.

"What's wrong with Delita?" Rad asked curiously.

'He's become more and more withdrawn over the past few weeks," the young Beoulve answered. "Doesn't socialize with the staff anymore, avoids the limelight, barely talks to Ovelia these days. He also seems distracted, his attention wandering even during council meetings."

"Do you think he's possessed by the Pieces Stone?" Rad questioned. "I mean, he is acting out of character, but it seems a bit of a leap that the Stone could've gotten to him. That doesn't really seem possible unless he's in direct possession of it, right?"

"Or, if it's close enough to influence him or fall into his possession," Ramza finished, shuddering as his thoughts went back to his nightmare from the evening prior.

"So, are you afraid that Delita will get possessed by the holy stone…or that he already is?" Beowulf pressed.

Ramza groaned. "Both," he admitted. "Although if it's the former, there might still be hope. That's why I need help from both of you. I want to do some investigating into the king's behavior, to find out exactly what the hell is going on."

To this, Beowulf and Rad exchanged worried glances before turning to Ramza.

"My friend, you know we'd do anything to help, but I'm afraid you'd be a bit too conspicuous if you tried following the king around to see what he does. You're not just another sellsword anymore, you're the king's "cousin" and a duke. Tongues will wag wherever you go, especially in a place like Lesalia. Even Rad and I might be easily noticed."

Ramza's heart sank when he realized his friend was right. But before he could say anything, Beowulf raised a hand as if he had not finished speaking yet.

"However, there might be another way," the former Templar pointed out. "Your old classmates from the academy are all Knights of the Chimera, so them shadowing the king would not seem untoward. You could ask them to watch the king, and they could do so without being noticed overmuch by the castle guards and servants. That is, if they're discreet about it. And, if they find anything, they can report to us."

At Beowulf's rather simple suggestion, Ramza wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry that he didn't think of it sooner.

"Yes, you're right!" Ramza laughed nervously while scratching his head. "I can't believe I didn't think of that! Now that you mention my classmates, I think that we should also recruit the help of Olan and Balmafula as well. I know they share our concerns about the king and can be trusted to keep a discreet eye on him. And because they did accompany my old classmates on that secret mission Delita assigned to them, they might have insight that we don't."

"I think that's a good idea," Rad agreed. "Why don't you talk to Olan and Balmafula while Beowulf and I can go talk to your old classmates about the plan?"

"Great idea," Ramza replied, relieved that they were able to come up with a feasible solution after all. Normally, the young Beoulve preferred to do a task himself, just to make sure it was done right; but this was one thing he knew he couldn't do alone and must rely on others. Turning to Beowulf, he expressed his gratitude for the older knight's wisdom.

"Thank you, Beowulf. I owe you one for this."

"Think nothing of it, my friend. I suggest we get started as soon as possible since your sister and Sir Damien's wedding is only a few days from now. Speaking of which, have you gotten a chance to talk to him again? I'm guessing he is the one in possession of the Pieces Stone, no?"

Ramza sighed and shook his head. He had not spoken to Izlude since the night he and Malak discovered that he and Sir Damien Mitchel were the same person. But since Beowulf brought him up, it may be a good idea to talk to him, and Meliadoul too, about what to do with the Pieces Stone before the wedding took place.

"No, I have not. But now that you mention it, I probably should speak to Izlude about the holy stone as well."

At the mention of the Wyvern knight's true name, Rad stared at Ramza in confusion.

"What did you say? Izlude? Izlude Tingel? That bouncing lunatic Templar we fought beneath Orbonne? What does he have to do with this? And, isn't he dead?"

Ramza cursed himself for his slip of the tongue. Though he had intended to let everyone closest to him know of Izlude's secret as soon as the time was right, he also knew that Rad wasn't going to let him off easily until he explained himself.

Fortunately, Beowulf came to his rescue again. "It is a bit of a long story, Rad. And I'm afraid that time is of the essence when it comes to addressing the troubles of the king. I'm sure Ramza will happily fill you in on the details as soon as he is able."

Grateful for his friend's assistance, Ramza's eyes silently showed his gratitude. Giving a slight nod of acknowledgment in reply, Beowulf turned to him and continued.

"But for now, I think it is best that you see your sister's fiancé to see what he has to say about safeguarding the Pieces Stone before their wedding. Meanwhile, Rad will talk to your old classmates and I will consult with Olan and Balmafula. With luck, we can quickly enlist their help with investigating the king's strange behavior as well."

Ramza didn't need to be told twice and took Beowulf's suggestion as his cue to go. Depending on how much he learned from Reis, the former Templar could very well save Ramza the trouble of explaining why and how Izlude Tingel was back among the living. And while he was at it, he could hopefully recruit their other allies to their cause as well.

Ramza could only hope it would prove to be enough.

SSSSSS

In the vastness of Ivalice, there were more than a few cities which never seemed to sleep. Dorter, for example, seemed a bustling center of commerce no matter the hour. Even at midnight, one could find shops and businesses which cater to clients who either find wakefulness by moonlight rather than sunlight or who are interested in wares of a…less-than-wholesome nature. Taverns too seemed to operate without respite, as nary an hour seemed to pass which didn't see patrons trickling in to partake. Gollund too seemed forever restless, as the great stores of treasure beneath the earth, and the lumber of the surrounding mountains, were in demand all over the realm. In both communities, someone was always awake, whether engaged in work or leisure, honest or otherwise.

One might expect the decadent city of Lesalia to be much the same, but one would be mistaken. A city packed with nobles, servants, craftsmen of every stripe, and artists of every description, the people who beautified that isle of marble were well aware that proper rest was essential to making sure they could continue with their demanding professions whilst their clientele hardly needed the encouragement to sleep off a night of revels. And, with the upcoming wedding of Duchess Catherine Seymour of Lionel and her chosen suitor, Sir Damien Mitchel, all Lesalians knew that an occasion to remember was on the horizon. And, whether engaged in making their mark on so memorable a wedding or simply keen to enjoy it, none wanted to be sidelined by exhaustion. Thus, the usually bustling streets slowly emptied as the hours went by until there was nary a person in sight.

Except one.

Unlike the rest of Lesalia, Ramza Beoulve, AKA "Drake Seymour", could not afford to sleep. At least, not yet. Even though he knew the streets were practically empty, the Duke of Lionel knew that he could not afford to risk being seen and recognized. Though Lesalia's nightlife was downright miniscule compared to other cities he'd visited in his travels, and the city seemed as silent as the marble that featured so prominently in its architecture, he still kept on the alert for anyone who might have yet to take to their beds for whatever reason.

Few things could rouse a sleepy Lesalian – or Lesalia itself, for that matter – than something that fired the gossipmonger's imagination. And, the sight of a nobleman on the streets, alone and clearly trying to go unseen, would do precisely that.

"Why is Duke Drake Seymour out at this time of night?" they would say.

And, as often happens with idle gossip, the unfounded speculation would get ever more ridiculous each time it changed hands.

"He has no inheritance, since he was appointed his title rather than coming from an established noble line with a family fortune, and no one seems to know where the money he does have came from. Perhaps he gambles or sells opiates?" they might say, which would've been quite ironic given Ramza's real heritage.

"I've heard tell that he is a skilled combatant, so perhaps he supplements whatever money he has by fighting in those underground arenas which His Majesty frowns upon?" they might say, unaware that much of Ramza's wealth came from selling the many treasures he'd found on his journey and which were still the talk of Lesalia's scholarly circles.

"He is a young and attractive man, who looks like one woman would be too few to…please him. Perhaps he has a mistress or two, or more, and is keen for a rendezvous?" they might say.

If they were sensible, that last one would be swiftly followed by "On second thought, he is married to Lady Agrias Oaks, who is a knight and can split a man like firewood with one blow of her sword, so we should all shut the hell up."

Ramza was not holding his breath on the gossips striking upon THAT pearl of wisdom.

Still, though Ramza was well practiced in keeping himself safe while traveling alone and going unseen when needed, it was not lost upon him that heading out in the dead of night, completely alone except for Boco, was what most would consider unwise for a nobleman. And, more to the point, he suspected Agrias would insist he spend a night or two on the couch once she learned that he'd slipped out after she'd fallen asleep.

Still, this was important enough to justify the risk, if not the discomfort. And, with Tingel Manor so far from the castle, walking there, and thus drawing even less attention to himself, was not an option.

Small mercies, Boco was more than intelligent enough to sense his master's wishes and had gotten the outpouring of affection and delight out of his system before their impromptu outing.

The Duke or Lionel still winced as his scalp voiced its displeasure with the chocobo's preening him, however.

Still, he was glad to have his old mount back. Boco had been every bit as brave as whomever was riding him into battle, and he'd been a godsend when Agrias's pregnancy reached the point where she could no longer march with the rest of the company. Though Ramza had certainly hoped to get his loyal mount back after Meliadoul was done hunting down rumors of lesser Lucavi demons still at large, he'd feared that day would be far off…or might not come at all, given the nigh-suicidal state the Divine Knight had been in at the time.

Either way, he gave Boco's long neck an affectionate rub despite knowing that Boco would give him a peck on the head in return.

Sometime later, and hoping that he'd managed to avoid attracting unwanted attention, Ramza soon reached his destination, namely Tingel Manor. Though most of Lesalia's wealthy and artistic populace would've been adamant about getting their beauty sleep, the hour wasn't all that late, so Ramza was certain that both Izlude and Meliadoul were still awake.

When he'd advised Izlude that the pair of them needed to speak, privately and urgently, his sister's fiancé had surprised the Duke of Lionel by choosing Tingel Manor as their meeting place. Ramza had had some reservations about that. The "late" Sir Izlude Tingel had lived in Tingel Manor all his life, but Sir Damien Mitchell did not. Wouldn't Lesalia's famous gossipmongers be sent into a feeding frenzy by Dame Meliadoul Tingel playing hostess to someone else's fiancé?

Especially when that man already had lodgings at a prominent inn? And, since Meliadoul had managed to track down the servants who'd resigned from her family's service during her father's possession by the Lucavi Demon Hashmalum, that meant there were eyes, and mouths, to confirm such salacious sounding rumors.

He gave a furious shake of his head and tried to calm himself down. Izlude had proven himself to be trustworthy, and Meliadoul would not have agreed to this if she thought that it was a bad idea. So, he decided to have faith that the two of them knew what they were doing.

Besides, even if he wanted to redraw his plans this late, time was not on Ramza's side.

Since he'd given his pocket watch to Alma to remind her not to take too long choosing a husband, and she kept on "forgetting" to return it, Ramza tried to gauge the hour by the position of the moon. By his, somewhat questionable, reckoning, he was right on time. He had made sure to send a telegram via one of his servants earlier that day to inform the Tingel siblings of his arrival, and that it was a matter of utmost importance. Since the time he'd specified he'd arrive was any moment now, he was confident they were ready to receive him.

Well, reasonably confident. Maybe.

To his relief, one of the newly rehired servants of Tingel Manor awaited him near the entrance and dutifully pulled the gates open for him. As the servant worked, Ramza quickly made sure that he had, in fact, donned what might pass as commoner's garb that would not betray his identity as a duke and that his hood was pulled low to shroud his face. For good measure, the young Beoulve made sure to pull a twenty gil bill from the wallet that Mustadio had recently gifted him, and quietly placed it in the hand of the young servant boy.

The lad's eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

"You never saw me, understand?" Ramza said while avoiding eye contact with the servant, hoping that the bribe would be enough to keep him quiet. While he disliked having to buy anyone's silence, Ramza knew that the fewer people who knew of his impromptu visit, the better.

"Yes, sir," the lad managed to choke out.

Ramza said nothing more and passed through the gates before dismounting and quietly handing the reins to the servant boy. The lad still seemed dazed by the sudden windfall but, thankfully, did his work well and made a point of never letting his gaze stray towards Ramza.

After making his way past the gates, Ramza finally arrived at the front door of Tingel Manor and knocked. He knew that if another servant answered, he would have to have another "tip" ready. The notion of bribing his way out of trouble, or at least using bribery to avoid trouble in the first place, left a bad taste in his mouth but he'd learned hard lessons about practicality during the war.

What one wanted to do and what one needed to do had a nasty habit of becoming estranged at inconvenient moments.

But to his surprise, it was not a servant who answered the door, but the very person he had come to see.

Damien Mitchel – or more accurately, Izlude Tingel – slowly opened the heavy mahogany doors of his family's home. Ramza could not help a twinge of envy at the sight. Granted, Tingel Manor had only a passing resemblance to his former home at Igros Castle, but the sight of "Damien" admitting him to his home in another life reminded Ramza painfully of the home that was now lost to him forever. The young Beoulve could not help a flicker of jealousy towards his future brother-in-law. Even though Izlude had to live under a false identity like himself and Alma, whatever contrived story the former Templar and his sister had concocted to explain his presence allowed him to have the manor he grew up in with his sister, however briefly.

The young Beoulve was not too proud to admit that that stung.

At first, Izlude said nothing and instead gestured for Ramza to enter. As soon as the door was closed, he said in a low voice.

"Welcome. I've been expecting you. You said there was something important you wanted to talk to me about that couldn't wait?"

Ramza nodded. "Yes. But I prefer to discuss it someplace more private, if you don't mind."

"Yes, I understand what you mean. We can use my guest room or the late Lord Vormav's office. Dame Meliadoul has given me permission to use the latter, if needed."

It was not lost on Ramza that Izlude addressed his elder sister and late father rather formally. But that should come as no surprise since, like Ramza himself, Izlude had to take every precaution to keep his true identity a secret, including masquerading as a guest in his own house and acting like a stranger towards people he'd known, man and boy.

"Very well. Please lead the way, Sir Damien," Ramza said, taking care to use Izlude's chosen alias instead of his true name.

Izlude gave a silent nod in reply and beckoned for Ramza to follow. Since Meliadoul was nowhere in sight, Ramza assumed that she was asleep. Truth be told, he had hoped that she would've been on hand to make sure the servants cut him and Izlude a wide berth. Even if they did what seemingly every other Lesalian didn't, and kept their mouths shut, he was hoping to avoid curious eyes.

Would any of the servants find it suspicious that Sir Damien Mitchell, who'd reportedly never set foot in the manor before in his life, knew his way around the place as if he'd grown up there? But Ramza also knew that now was not the time to ponder such questions. Right now, there was something far more important to discuss, and he had to have faith that his future brother-in-law and Meliadoul had already resolved those worrisome details.

The young Beoulve was silent as he followed the equally silent Izlude to his late father's office, a small room with an expansive desk lavishly crafted of brown maple wood and shelves of books, not unlike the one Ramza's own father had back at Igros Castle. Now that Vormav was gone, however, Tingel Manor and everything in it fell to Meliadoul. Originally, the wealth of the Tingel family was supposed to be divided between Vormav's two children; but since Izlude was presumed dead, so too was his claim to his family's fortune.

Ramza understood all too well what it was like to lose everything and having to start again from scratch. He was fortunate that Delita had given him and his sister a new home and identity while Izlude, despite being wealthy in his own right after his exploits as The Ghostbuster of Gollund, was nonetheless dependent on the so-called generosity and protection of the Pieces Stone to simply go about his business without being recognized, much less get to where he was now. And so far, both of them were fortunate that the Stone had chosen to aid Izlude as much and for as long as it had.

Why this was, neither man could say for certain. While the Stone seemed like no more than a hunk of crystal, it, much like the other Zodiac Stones, seemed to possess a will or even a mind of its own. And, although the Stones were perfectly capable of allowing the Lucavi Demons entrance into the world via the cooperation of a willing host, whether the Stones themselves were good or evil remained ambiguous.

Even the thought that the Stone had helped Izlude all this time, and all this way, so that it could ensnare King Delita was little more than a theory…albeit a plausible and deeply terrifying one.

As soon as Ramza was inside, Izlude made sure to close the door behind him and lock it. Even though it was unlikely any of the servants would dare to intrude upon the privacy of their mistress's guests, especially at such an hour, Izlude preferred not to take any chances. After taking a moment to collect his thoughts, Ramza finally broke the silence.

"Sir Damien…Izlude," he began quietly. "I'm sorry that we never truly had a chance to talk due to…well, everything that's been happening. Both during the war and even now. And I wish I had time for pleasantries, but we both know there is something more urgent I need to discuss with you."

Izlude seated himself at the edge of his late father's desk and folded his arms. Although Ramza did not elaborate, he knew exactly what his future brother-in-law wanted to say.

"I know… it's the Pieces Stone, isn't it? You're wondering what I plan to do with it before the wedding?" seeing Ramza's nod, Izlude gave a solemn dip of his head in return. "It's alright, my sister has brought up the subject more than once. Considering what the Leo Stone did to father, I was surprised she was as restrained as she was."

"So, what ARE you going to do with the Stone?" Ramza asked, unable to keep himself from holding his breath as he awaited Izlude's reply.

"To be honest, I'm at a loss," the disguised Knightblade admitted. "As you know, my sister will be attending the wedding, and she plans to give all our servants the day off. I have considered leaving the Stone here in the manor, but that has its risks. What if I cannot maintain my disguise if it's not in my possession? Also, what if the Stone gets stolen? Though my sister has a number of safeguards in place at the manor, someone might succeed in breaking in nonetheless."

Ramza felt his heart sink at Izlude's confession, for he also had the same fears regarding the Pieces Stone. If the Stone wanted King Delita, it stood to reason that it'd take more than a few locked doors to stop it. If the Stone could reach out to suitable hosts, it wasn't much of a stretch to think it could ensnare a capable thief to snatch it out from under Izlude's nose if needed. The only other choice was for either him or Izlude to bring it to the wedding, since either man would likely prove resistant to whatever fell promises it might offer. But, as Ramza's dream indicated, that also came with great risk as well since Delita, along with Ovelia, would most definitely attend Izlude and Alma's wedding.

If Delita was still in nearly as fragile a state that had caused him to mistake Ramza for Algus, and nearly chop his head off, then letting the Pisces Stone near him was to court disaster.

The only thing Ramza could think of was to ask Izlude to try giving him the Stone again. Granted, that wouldn't mean it would be all that much further from Delita, but the young Beoulve knew that, since he'd carried twelve Zodiac Stones without them subverting him, that he could safeguard it, at least until the wedding was over.

As far as plans went, it wasn't all that impressive. As the brother of the bride, and likely to give the bride away in place of their late father, he'd be carrying the holy stone in Delita's very presence. Even if the Stone could not beguile him into, say, giving it to the King of Ivalice, who was to say it couldn't find a way around that small problem?

But, Ramza didn't have another plan, nor the time to come up with one. So, as had happened when he'd unmasked a demonic conspiracy to bring hell to Ivalice, and with him having only a handful of brave souls to help him thwart the plot, he would simply have to make do.

"Izlude, do you think you could try handing me the Stone again? If it will accept me, at least temporarily, I think I may be able to keep it away from Delita until the wedding ends. I know it's a long shot, but so far, none of the holy stones I've acquired has ever tried to escape my possession."

For a long moment, Izlude was silent, as if he were weighing Ramza's words. He could see the young Beoulve's logic, in that none of the Stones he'd collected thus far had slipped his grasp. But, then again, those same Stones had never been found by or been near enough to a suitable host to attempt escape. Even more problematic, if the Stone really was helping Izlude only to get near enough to the King of Ivalice to enthrall him, and Izlude tried to part with it now, might the Stone take action to force him to retain it? Or, worse, retaliate against him for parting with it?

The Stone had breathed life back into his lungs after his death, and gifted him with a new face to let him move about without being recognized. Could the Stone take back either gift? And, if it did, what would the ramifications be for Alma and their child?

But, then again, Izlude had seen what a Lucavi Demon could do, both before and after it shed its guide of humanity. As Vormav Tingel, Hasmalum had been cruel and violent, driving away all but one of his family's servants as even the most paltry infraction or shortcoming was answered with brutality. As himself, the leonine demon had caused the Horror of Riovanes, killing hundreds of people in a rampage whose bloody aftermath was still whispered furtively in taverns to this day.

If such a demon took hold of the King of Ivalice, especially when he seemed vulnerable to its temptation, it would be a thousandfold worse.

"I believe you, Ramza. I really do," Izlude assured. "But, this time could be different, and we both know it. I may not be as close to the king as you, but I have met and spoken to him a few times during the war. And even then, I could tell that he was troubled. Not unlike my father was when he lost my mother. And, judging by the gossip that Alma has relayed to me, he's gotten much worse in recent weeks."

"Then you know why I am so concerned about what we should do with the Stone?" Ramza pressed. "You agree with me that the Stone might be…interested in Delita?"

"I do… more than you can imagine," Izlude replied as his thoughts briefly returned to his late father. It was bad enough that Lucavi demons managed to possess many high-ranking nobles and Templars, turning them against the very country and people they had sworn to lead and protect, but for one to take possession of the king himself, especially one as ambitious and intelligent as Delita Hyral, would bring about disaster the likes of which the country has never seen.

"Then…will you trust me with the Stone? If only until the wedding is over?" Ramza very nearly pleaded.

"You know I trust you," Izlude assured. "In fact, I would trust you more than anyone with the Pieces Stone, including myself. But, you do remember what happened the last time I tried to give it to you, yes?"

Ramza sighed. The painful burning sensation he felt when the Pisces Stone rejected him had been quite memorable, indeed. It had also left an unbecoming blister on his hand; one so unsightly, and so conspicuous, that he had to wear a glove to conceal it for days after the fact to avoid any uncomfortable questions. And, he suspected that Malak had had to do likewise as well.

But, much like Izlude, he knew the stakes. The Zodiac Stones he'd recovered, at least those that managed to ensnare a suitable host, had come within inches of bringing Ivalice to her knees. One Stone in the hands of the King of Ivalice would likely be all the Lucavi needed to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat…and, in so doing, spell doom for the human race.

A blister, or even the loss of a hand, would be a small price to prevent that.

"Yes, I do. But I can think of no other way than to try again to see if the Stone has changed its mind. And I do believe that it has a mind of its own, if it can choose to help some people while possessing others. That's been proven with how they revived you and Malak and helped Reis, even if we don't really know why the Stones chose to do any of those things."

Izlude pondered the notion for a moment before finally relenting. Whatever the Stone's inscrutable intent might be, and regardless of what it had done to help him, it was still dangerous. Not only did Izlude have to lug it everywhere like it was a part of him while risking being corrupted all the while, but there was every possibility that it was offering him a false bargain and would desert him the moment it found a host more to its liking.

And, who would be a better candidate than the King of Ivalice?

If anyone was able and willing to take the Stone off his hands, it would be Ramza Beoulve. After all, he had managed to obtain a dozen holy stones during the course of the War of the Lions, and not one of them had managed to subvert his will.

"All right. But, are you sure this is what you want to do? Even if this actually works, it leaves the question of just what you'll do with it. After all, even if you don't mind wearing gloves again for a few days if this doesn't work, what do you plan to do if this does work? There's no way you could take the Stone all the way back to Lionel and return in time for the wedding. Hiding it in Lesalia runs the risk of the Stone reaching out to someone to steal it. And, having it with you at the wedding seems much akin to moving a princess to a higher floor of a burning tower."

Izlude's mention of blisters almost caused Ramza to roll his eyes, though the Duke of Lionel's disdain towards acting condescending and disrespectful in the face of genuine concern stopped him. And, more to the point, the rest of the disguised Knightblade's concerns were well founded. After all, a long time ago, Delita had said much the same about his efforts to rescue Ovelia from Cardinal Draclau.

And, much like back then, Ramza didn't have an answer for that rejoinder. At least, not yet.

In truth, the Duke of Lionel hadn't planned much beyond seeing whether he could take the Stone. With so little time remaining before the wedding, which he could ill afford to spend drawing up plans that could easily be overturned by a cruel whimsy of fate, he'd chosen to plan step by step. He would see if he could, in fact, take the Stone from its bearer. If so, he'd start planning what to do next. If not, then he'd try to come up with an alternative.

Either way, though he appreciated the other man's reservations, Ramza would gladly risk another blister if it meant keeping the Pieces Stone from possessing Delita or anyone else.

"Yes, I'm sure," he assured Izlude before holding out his hand. It was not lost on Izlude that Ramza was offering his left instead of his right hand since the blister he had received from the Pieces Stone had not yet fully healed. "I don't know what I'll do if this does work. I'll keep it from getting to Delita, but I'll have to work out how as I go. Yes, I know, that's not much of a plan, but I'm asking you to trust me."

Since he didn't want to waste time arguing, Izlude did as Ramza asked. Taking the Pieces Stone out of his pocket, he once again held it out and…hesitated.

For a long, long moment, Izlude stared at the Stone, his expression one of grimly silent contemplation. What was going through his mind, Ramza wondered, and with no small amount of trepidation. Was Izlude simply pondering whether or not his disguise would remain in place if he and the Stone parted company? Was he mulling over whether Ramza could be trusted with the Stone when, by the Duke of Lionel's own admission, he had no real plan for how to make sure it stayed safe?

Or, was it something worse?

Ramza had seen that the Stone had a mind of its own, for he had seen it strike a bargain with Weigraf. Seen that the Stone could recognize that the White Knight was fatally wounded, consumed by rage and grief at having been bested again by the so-called heretic, and that was the perfect moment to ensnare him. Could the Stone be sensing the danger of being passed to another who would not be fooled into accepting such a pact? Was it issuing threats and ultimatums with a voice Izlude alone could hear? Perhaps it was playing upon Izlude's concerns, causing the disguised Knightblade to second guess Ramza's, admittedly unimpressive, plan?

Whatever was happening, it caused Izlude's hand to tremble as it cradled the Stone. His jaw to clench and his chest to heave as if his breath were spasming in his lungs. Ramza could swear he saw perspiration dot the other man's brow as well. He was fairly certain he'd said something to Izlude, but blood began to thunder so in his ears that he could not guess at his own words. But then, ever so slowly, Izlude's fingers unclenched, and his palm began to turn over, inch by inch, until the Stone dropped into Ramza's waiting hand.

As soon as the Stone touched his skin, Ramza braced himself for the painful burning sensation he had expected after his last experience with the Stone. Izlude, who seemed to snap back to awareness as though a pail of frigid water had been emptied onto his head, seemed to expect the same. But, surprisingly, nothing happened this time. The Stone did not try to burn its way free of the young Beoulve's grasp.

Ramza blinked, dumbfounded. He blinked again, but the unlikely image of the Pisces Stone did not greet him again when he opened his eyes.

Instead, he saw Miluda.

Gasping in amazement, he also saw that he was no longer in Tingel Manor, but at the Brigand's Fortress, south of Igros, where he had bested the Corpse Brigade's second-in-command so long ago. As was the case back then, the night was dark, rainy, and as gloomy as the conflicted heart that had beat uncertainly and unhappily in the young Beoulve's breast.

And, much like back then, Miluda regarded him with undisguised hatred, insulted by his show of mercy when she had demanded a warrior's death.

Recalling how she had later gotten her wish, and how tragic and needless it had been, Ramza could feel his eyes water.

When he wiped them away, however, he wondered why the Pisces Stone would shove this image into his mind. Was the Stone – or, more likely, the Lucavi Demon within – angered at having been parted with its chosen bearer? And, if so, was that because it, indeed, had had its sights on Delita? Or, did it have something else planned for Izlude and being parted from him had sparked its ire? Ramza had no way of knowing the Stone's inscrutable will, not for certain, but he did know one thing: as powerful as the Stone was, it could do nothing without mortal man's cooperation.

And, perhaps seeing it would not get it, the image faded and Ramza found himself once more standing before his unlikely future brother-in-law. The Pieces Stone remained as cool and silent in Ramza's hand as it had been in Izlude's a moment prior.

Both men spent another long moment gawking at the holy stone, partly in absolute shock and partly in unfathomable relief.

"I don't believe it, it worked!" Ramza exclaimed.

"I can't believe it either. I'm so relieved! But, at the same time, a little worried," Izlude confessed.

"You're still worried the Stone might…strike back at you for letting it go?"

"Can you blame me? In all likelihood, I'll need to maintain my disguise for as long as I live. What if that can't be done without the Stone's power?"

"That may not be as much of a problem as you think, actually. Neither Alma nor I have ever needed the power of any of the holy stones to disguise ourselves. We did it the old-fashioned way, and I'm sure you can too."

"You mean with hair dye and contacts? What about my skin tone? If you can recall, I was originally a good bit darker than I am now."

"Well, if that's what you're so concerned about, I don't think it would be hard to claim that you got a tan."

Izlude pondered the thought for a moment and had to admit that Ramza did have a point. Both he and Alma had a dozen holy stones in their possession yet neither of them was dependent on any of them to maintain their disguises. And, while the Pieces Stone did get Izlude out of troublesome situations that were beyond his control in the past, he no longer needed its protection now that he was safely back in Lesalia and had already convinced Alma to marry him. And for the second time, no less. In fact, now that he thought of it, there was not a single thing Izlude needed the Pieces Stone for now, except to maintain his disguise. Or, so he thought, until Ramza assured him that he no longer needed it for that purpose.

And, more to the point, now that the Stone's hitherto inscrutable motives for helping him were now suspected, and suspect, keeping it was simply too dangerous. Whatever good the Pisces Stone might've done for Izlude, and Alma and their child, it could not be allowed to ensnare King Delita during his moment of vulnerability.

"Yes, you're right," he finally said. "I suppose I can try. If you and Alma were able to do it, there's no reason I can't as well. However, since you intend to keep the Stone on you instead of leaving it in your room, I'd feel better if you sat in the front pews, since I may need the Stone's power to maintain my disguise. At least until the wedding is over."

"Yes…my thoughts exactly. It's not like I can keep the Stone anywhere else until I return to Lionel."

"Oh? So, I was right that that's where the rest of your Stones are? Yes, it is fortunate that they're so far away from here. I assume you've stored them someplace safe, since you can't take all of them everywhere with you. I can tell you from experience that lugging one holy stone around is already quite enough trouble."

Ramza couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, I know all about it. I've collected and lugged around a dozen stones for almost two years during the war, so I completely understand where you're coming from, Izlude."

"I was wondering about that, by the way. You say you have a dozen. But, with this one, that makes thirteen. The Legend of the Zodiac Braves made no mention of a thirteenth."

"Yeah, well, that legend was…pretty misleading. But, yes, there was a thirteenth stone, Serpentarius. We found it in Midlight's Deep, the lighthouse far east of Warjilis. It had enthralled an old mage who looked a lot, and I mean a lot, like the hero Elidibus."

"…you're serious? Everyone thought he'd been killed in the retaking of Riovanes Castle during the Fifty Years War."

"Well, I have no idea if it really was him. And, frankly, the first thing that came to mind after I found the Stone was if we could fit it in the wagon after Mydrede splurged on shuriken two days beforehand."

Although his words were intended to be humorous, Ramza's expression changed slightly to one of dismay, one that Izlude quickly noticed. Although he did not say so, it was not hard for the former Templar to glean what had Ramza so troubled.

I supposed I'd be stressed too, if I knew I had to be responsible for a dozen – no, correction, thirteen – holy stones for the rest of my life… Izlude mused, but refrained from voicing his thoughts. Instead, he tried offering a solution.

"Do you think it would be possible to destroy the holy stones?"

Ramza sighed and shook his head. "I don't know. Mustadio thinks it's highly unlikely. And I'm not going to be around forever to guard them. The only thing I can think of that might be remotely possible is sending the holy stones beyond the reach of any human, if such a place exists."

As the Duke of Lionel finished, he pondered his own words. Not long ago, Mustadio had suggested that the orrery, with which they had accidentally summoned Cloud from his home plane, might be just what they needed. Granted, the young machinist would need considerable time and experimentation to riddle out the device's secrets, but he did seem confident that he could get it to work again and use it to send the Stones where they would be beyond mortal reach.

But, even if he was right, that left open the question of just where they'd be sent.

Sending them to wherever Cloud had come from was out of the question. Though he had been often incoherent sounding and rarely talkative, his unusual clothes and enormous sword made it clear that, wherever he was from, he was most certainly not the sole resident. So, the Stones would have to go somewhere else. The emerging study of the stars had revealed that some of those pinpricks of light in the sky were entire worlds, but whether they might be home to beings which the Lucavi could enthrall might remain unanswered for centuries. Mustadio was confident that, by riddling out how the orrery worked and exploring its capabilities, he would find a solution.

Ramza hoped he was right.

"I understand…and, maybe it does?" Izlude offered. "You never know. I think you might want to discuss the possibilities with Master Bunanza before you head back home. He seems to be very knowledgeable about many things."

Ramza's brows rose. "Oh? I didn't realize you were acquainted with Mustadio."

"Honestly, I've met him only once," Izlude confessed. "It was at the tailor shop where I was being fitted for my ceremonial garb to attend the ball. Though I was a stranger, Master Bunanza was very happy to tell me about his new inventions or plans for them, so to speak."

"Yes, you're right, he is. I can't begin to count how many times his crazy contraptions have made our journey much easier and more convenient than it would have been otherwise. Even the damn alarm clock that Lavian and Alicia absolutely loathed kept us from oversleeping and helping us make sure we had sufficient time to do everything we needed to before night set in."

As he said this, Ramza forgot about his weighty responsibility for the holy stones and managed a laugh and Izlude couldn't help doing the same as he recalled how pissed the Murry twins were when Mustadio's alarm went off loudly enough to wake the entire province. And how they'd threatened to shoot it to pieces and failed.

For both men, the light-hearted moment proved sadly fleeting and they quickly became serious again. After a moment's deliberation, Izlude asked another question that had been on his mind since he discovered that the Pieces Stone might very well accept Ramza as its now owner.

"Ramza, I really hate to ask, but would you mind if I held onto the Stone a little while longer. You can come see me before the wedding, and I will give it to you to hold onto. Until then, you can rest assured that I will guard it with my life and not let it out of my sight."

For a long moment, Ramza hesitated. He was surprised at this request, and briefly worried that the Pisces Stone might not have given up so easily after all. But, he eventually relaxed when he remembered that Izlude had come this far with the Pieces Stone since he had been revived. The Stone, whatever its abilities and motives, had been in his possession long before Ramza even knew that Izlude still lived, and yet it had not ensnared him.

Perhaps it couldn't, not after Izlude had been made so personally and unmistakably aware of what they could do if handled carelessly. Regardless, the Duke of Lionel found himself nodding his understanding.

"Yes… of course, you're right. It would be silly for me not to trust you when you've already come so far for my sister's hand. And not only that, convinced her to marry you again before she even knew who you really were. I apologize for ever doubting you, Izlude."

The former Templar shook his head at what he felt was an undeserved apology.

"No, Ramza. You owe me no apology. Just the opposite. I was the one who took Alma from Orbonne and put her at risk by bringing her to Riovanes. Even though I had no idea the Lucavi had sunk their claws so deeply into the Templarate, that was still no excuse for taking a defenseless girl to use as a bargaining chip."

"Well, there's plenty of blame to go around," Ramza confessed. "I was the one who left Alma alone to tend to Father Simon, and I was dumb enough to bring her to Orbonne in the first place. Looking back, I realize it was one of the stupidest things I've ever done. She was not a trained and experienced warrior, and I never should have let her talk me into bringing her along when I knew the Office of Inquisition would be after me. Still, I'm grateful that it had been you who took my sister and not one of the others. And I'm also grateful that you took such good care of Alma and protected her when I couldn't. Even now, I shudder to think what might have happened to Alma if a Lucavi-possessed Templar had gotten ahold of her instead, or if the Lucavi hadn't realized she was…worth keeping alive. So, thank you, Izlude. And I mean that from the bottom of my heart."

And with that, the Duke of Lionel offered a hand to his future brother-in-law, which Izlude gratefully accepted, relieved that Ramza bore no grudge against him for the mess he had unwittingly gotten Alma into, and in more ways than one.

"Thank you, Ramza, I am honored. I know we haven't had much chance to talk until now, but I'm glad we did. And I hope we will have more chances to do so again in the future."

"Yes, I do too. I can think of no one else I'd rather have for a brother-in-law. While there are still a few matters left that I must deal with, I feel a lot better knowing that my sister will be in good hands."

"I understand. I feel the same way about Meliadoul, even though I know she's more than capable of taking care of herself. Although she's not in any hurry to marry, I can tell she's taken quite a liking to Master Bunanza. And, no disrespect to him, but I think they'd make an odd couple."

Ramza had to suppress a guffaw since that would come off as disrespectful to Meliadoul and Mustadio, both of whom he considered his dear friends. And, the former of whom would likely answer his mockery with her fist. Besides, given how odd a couple he and Agrias were, it wasn't like he had any room to talk.

Instead, he said. "Hey, don't underestimate Mustadio. He's no swordsman, but his marksmanship is second to none. Aside from his contraptions, Mustadio's sniping skills have also been invaluable on the battlefield. Without him, we might not have been able to defeat Balk, who was also a very skilled marksman."

Izlude's nose wrinkled in distaste as he remembered Balk's despicable methods. While he was admired by the other Templars for his brilliance even though he depended on his sniping skills in combat because he was inferior with the sword, his willingness to endanger civilians as well as inflated ego and overconfidence eventually lead to his downfall.

"Yes… I do remember. When I still served in the order, I was grateful that I didn't have too many encounters with Sir Balk since he spent more time in his lab than on the field. Even my father disliked and distrusted Sir Balk, though he tolerated him because of his useful skills. In any case, I think I will also be seeing more of Mustadio in the near future. I also owe him thanks for helping my sister while I was…gone."

"Wait, does Mustadio know who you really are?" Ramza pressed.

"Yes. Meliadoul told him while I was telling Alma who "Damien" really was. And, it was a good thing she did. I didn't realize this until Meliadoul saw the problem, found a solution, practically gift wrapped it, dumped it in my lap, and said "You owe me", but Mustadio had found out that I was visiting Meliadoul at the same time that I was courting Alma. At first, he thought I was either…taking advantage of Meliadoul's grief or that I had riddled out what she had been doing during the war, as well as Alma's true identity, and was blackmailing them. I'm not sure what Meliadoul will want for cleaning up that mess, but it'll be substantial, mark my words."

"Well, I wouldn't get too worked up about it. Besides, even if you did try to explain it to him, could you have succeeded? I've learned many hard lessons during the war, but the toughest one was having to accept that I can't do everything by myself. Especially now that I'm a duke and cannot go anywhere without attracting attention unless I'm in disguise. I've learned that there are times I must rely on others, even if that means asking them to take risks I'd rather take myself."

"Yes, I actually do understand," Izlude said. "There is only so much one man can do alone. If possible, maybe we can both consult with Mustadio in determining what to do with the holy stones after the wedding."

"My thoughts exactly. Three heads would be better than one. Thank you for going along with my plan, Izlude. This means the world to me. I don't want to keep you up any longer than I already have since there's still so much to be done before the wedding. We can worry about the holy stones after."

"Indeed, but you hardly need to rush off. If you are too tired to return to the castle, I can offer you a room here for the night, provided you can get up early enough to return home before the townsfolk are out and about."

Ramza laughed softly and said "I thank you for your generosity, Izlude. But I think it's best that I return to Agrias tonight. If I didn't, she might think I spent the night doing something I shouldn't. I can all but guarantee she'll have me sleeping on the couch regardless."

Now it was Izlude's turn to laugh. "Ah yes, I recall hearing about your marriage, not to mention half the castle gushing over your adorable daughter. You're no longer a free man! But don't worry, we'll soon be in the same boat, so it's all good!" he joked while patting the other man on the shoulder before continuing. "But seriously, I understand. However, before you go, I would like to make a…parting remark?"

Ramza lifted an eyebrow at this unexpected request, and it rose a bit higher when he noticed the sly grin on Izlude's face.

"Obviously, Meliadoul can't be an aunt to Alma and my child," he began. "At least, not publicly. But, she's very much convinced that her niece or nephew will grow up to be a big, strong warrior who will kick Rachel's butt."

All thoughts of returning to the castle promptly fled Ramza's mind at this affront.

"Oh, really?" he asked, injecting an adversarial note into his tone that might've been convincing if not for the mischievous grin he wore. "We just might have to test that theory, sometime. After all, with me and Agrias as parents, not to mention Balbanes Beoulve as her grandfather, Rachel's veins are full to bursting with the stuff of warriors!"

"You forget, my child is also a grandchild of Balbanes Beoulve as well as Vormav Tingel, too. If we're talking pedigrees earned on the battlefield, I think my child has the advantage."

"Don't get too overconfident. That's how I bested you way back. Rachel will learn how to win uphill battles at my knee, and Agrias's too."

"Well then, I hope she doesn't inherit your judgment. After all, how many heretics are dumb enough to travel to Murond Holy Palace? And politely announce themselves at the door, no less?"

"Are you so sure about that? Maybe they weren't sensible enough to run away from the "big, evil heretic"?"

"Might've had something to do with your face. Even with you trying to grow some facial hair, and not quite succeeding, I can still see your baby fat. Hopefully, Rachel will inherit her mother's face."

Izlude promptly pantomimed the act of pinching the air and toying with it in much the same way barmaids were known to pinch Ramza's cheeks during his travels. Presumably, Meliadoul had dropped that little tidbit.

Ramza made a mental note to not let this embarrassment go unanswered.

"Well," Ramza began again, "you'll have your work cut out for you making sure your child can keep up with Rachel. She has two parents who can make a knight out of her, but Alma isn't a warrior."

"I wouldn't dismiss Meliadoul, if I were you," Izlude warned. "And, perhaps Alma is not a warrior in the same way as you and Agrias. But, she has wits and grit. As for you…well, you've got grit. Only a dullard would claim otherwise."

"Hey, I've got wit! And, you? You fight like a dairy farmer!"

"How appropriate, you fight like a cow!"

The two bantered about which of their children would prove the better as only proud doting fathers could until, ultimately, Ramza had no choice but to accept Izlude's invitation to stay the night. That, of course, meant that Ramza had had no choice but to face the wrath of an irate Agrias who, displeased that he would sneak out to deal with important matters without informing her, much less bringing her along, promptly made him sleep on the couch.

While Ramza was busy pondering whether Izlude had arranged this purposefully, Agrias then proceeded to get on top of him, saying that this would ensure that he couldn't slip out without her knowledge…and warning him against intimating that her being the heavier of the two would help ensure he stayed put.

Ramza had already learned, the hard way, that Agrias was overly sensitive about those few pounds from her pregnancy that stubbornly lingered on her figure, but her threat had given him an idea to assuage her temper.

Later that evening, Ramza, and a decent percentage of the castle's population, discovered that Lady Agrias Oaks, implacable holy knight and seasoned veteran of the Lionsguard, was ticklish.