A/N: Ok, we're back. For now I've decided to shift the scene from Izlude for a bit and focus on Ramza and company. By now, two months have passed since the end of the Lion War and our knight blade's real journey will begin :) I'd like to thank my co-writer and editor, Falchion1984 for inspiring and helping me write this sequel; I was stuck with writer's block for the longest time lol :D
Chapter 5: New lives, New Beginnings
Ivalice had been engulfed by flames, but the fires had guttered out.
The country had been devoured by floods, but the waters had receded.
The fields had been darkened by famine, but were now green once more.
Would-be tyrants had risen, but they had been toppled.
The people had suffered, but now they looked to the future with guarded hope.
The War of the Lions was over.
Two months had passed since Ramza and his companions had, at long last, tracked the imprisoned Alma to Murond Death City and vanquished the High Seraph Ajora, foremost of the Lucavi demons in Ivalice. Once the group had emerged from the ruins beneath Orbonne Monastery, Ramza had thought it best that the companions disperse and go into hiding, at least for a time. Even with the death of the High Confessor, as well as many of the most powerful officials and Templar of the Church of Glabados, the young Beoulve was still a sought after fugitive, perhaps even more so since the deaths of so many powerful figures had surely heightened his already infamous profile. His companions, who had followed Ramza through hell - literally, some of them claimed after their escapade through the Death City - were quite reluctant to abandon their leader. But, Ramza had convinced them that it would be best if they were no longer associated with him and Alma. And, thus, most of them acquiesced to his wishes, disappearing into the shadows and listening as the people of Ivalice gushed over their newly crowned king.
Delita Hyral the First.
If Ramza had believed himself to be past being surprised by Delita's machinations, then this news had forced him to concede that he'd been wrong. He had to admit that his former friend was exceedingly clever, earning the trust of powerful men who were blinded by their own ambitions, and then discarding them once they'd outlived their usefulness, all the while cultivating for himself an angelic image as a storybook peasant prince who'd risen from obscurity to wed a princess and bring peace to a troubled realm.
Ramza and his companions were likely the only people still alive to know the truth behind Delita's carefully crafted facade.
Yet, the young Beoulve kept his silence and had encouraged his companions to do the same.
Perhaps he had foreseen that their words would never been heeded.
Maybe it was because, despite Delita's methods, the people of Ivalice had at least some hope for a better future, and the young Beoulve could not bring himself to damage that hope.
Or, it might have been because, while people touted Delita's ascension as a miracle, the young Beoulve presenting had a miracle of a different sort to deal with.
One more common, and yet infinitely more precious.
"You're doing good, Lady Agrias!" the voice of Reis Dular rang out, muffled by the heavy door frame. "Just a little longer. Now, push!
Ever since that fateful day at Fort Ziekden, when the life Ramza had taken for granted had ended with a booming finality no less thunderous that the power kegs' exploding, very little of his new life had gone as expected...
...not the least of these surprises was that, very soon, he was going to be a father.
The young Beoulve had barely given even cursory thought to the notion of taking a wife and having a family, not even when friends of his father still saw fit to parade their daughters before him at the occasional ball. Yet, when he'd first met Agrias, he'd quickly been struck by her beauty, poise, and courage. At first, the feeling had been far less-than-mutual, as she had seen him as an impetuous child who was too young and green to have a place on the battlefield.
Yet, over time, across battlefields where they'd fought shoulder to shoulder and campfires where they'd shared many a watch by moonlight, the embers of her distrust had cooled. She had gradually become impressed by his considerable, if raw, skill and courage, and had helped him to temper these traits with good judgment and forethought. Upon learning of his infamous lineage, she had heard his explanation and had even voiced the belief that, if Balbanes yet lived, he would have been proud of his youngest son.
Ramza, in turn, had found himself aiding Agrias following Ovelia's decision to throw in her lot with Delita. The holy knight, who'd loved Ovelia like a sister, had been deeply hurt by the knowledge that the gentle princess would ally herself with such a man. But, the likelihood that she'd never see Ovelia again was the deeper wound by far. The young Beoulve, knowing that Agrias was a soldier first and foremost, had done his best to give her a mission and a purpose. And, amongst the small band of misfits arrayed against the worst of humankind and demonkind alike, the holy knight had found herself a place in this strange new world that the War of the Lions was creating.
It was not an easy process, however. And one night, in a moment of mutual weakness, the two had desperately sought one another out.
In the weeks that followed, Agrias noticed that her clothes weren't fitting quite right and that her appetites had become quite strange.
This had forced the holy knight to leave the battlefield, lest a lucky blow kill their unborn child, but Agrias refused to be idle. She would still keep the watch, aid in healing the wounded, and drill her comrades. And, many of their companions were thrilled at the news of her pregnancy, despite the complications it presented. Alicia and Lavian would often talk to the baby, often enough that Ramza felt crowded out, and, when Agrias stood at the back of one of the companions to guide them through a slash or thrust, her student would jokingly claim that the baby's kicking was throwing them off.
The child, though little more than a bump on Agrias' once slender frame, had helped to remind them all that a future might yet lay beyond the unceasing bloodshed.
Judging from the screaming that rattled the door, however, Ramza suspected that his own future might involve acquiring a rather impressive collection of bruises once Agrias had given birth.
SSSSSS
Agrias bit her lip, vainly trying to hold back a scream. She had been in labor for well over four hours, her entire body bathed in perspiration and every muscle in her body throbbing as though she'd fought several Lucavi demons simultaneously. And, her ordeal wasn't over yet. Having been wedded to the sword for so long, the notion that she might find herself embarking on a new journey into motherhood had seemed positively ludicrous. But, then again, so had Lucavi demons walking amongst mankind and Saint Ajora being revealed as a fraud. Which, needless to say, wasn't impossible at all. But, as another wave of pain fell over her, she found herself regretting having discounted the possibility and that her knightly training had left her so woefully unprepared. Yet, despite the pain, she felt something else, something far stronger. She felt a mingled happiness and terror, the wonderment of being a parent delicately balanced against the fear that she might fail her child as she had seemingly failed Ovelia. But then, the scales began to shift as she recalled how, for all the trials and tribulations they'd been through, the father of her child was still at her side, as were Rad Phillips, Lavian and Alicia Murry, who'd insisted on remaining with Agrias whom they loved like an older sister. And, so too were Beowulf Kadmus and his fiancé, the dragonkin Reis Dular. These two, amongst others, had joined Ramza's band as they'd embarked on an ever twisting road to discover the remaining holy stones. Reis, though quite strange with her affinity for dragons and so eerily perceptive, had been a godsend. When she'd learned of the holy knight's pregnancy, she'd insisted on remaining with Ramza and Agrias until after their baby was safely delivered. Also being learned in the healing arts and having helped other women in childbirth, Reis had been invaluable in plugging the copious gaps in Agrias' knowledge of childbearing. Alma had also been supportive of Agrias, and, though the cleric hadn't appreciated being upstaged by the dragonkin, she'd voiced the hope that Ramza and Agrias would have a long and happy life.
Yes, part of Agrias was truly happy to be having a child that, she hoped, would grow up in a world where atrocities like the War of the Lions only existed in stories of long ago. But, another part of her also wanted to strangle the baby's father for putting her through this painful ordeal.
Alma, whose pride was still stinging from having been regulated to a lesser role in bringing her nephew or niece into the world, had been kept busy nonetheless. In fact, she had found herself nearly as belabored as Agrias. As the second hour of labor had come and gone, she found her brow streaming and her vision beginning to blur. She had been assisting Reis as well as Lavian and Alicia, but she found the cloth she held being used to wipe away sweat from her brow as much as from Agrias'. Had it always been so hot in here? And, could Reis have been a bit overzealous with the herbs she'd employed to aid the holy knight's labor? The cleric had been feeling dizzy and faint, and she couldn't understand why Reis, Lavian, and Alicia seemed unaffected. Aside from their concern for Agrias, the other three women looked perfectly fine. Another oddity, she'd believed that she had gotten over Ramza's decision not to allow her to handle Agrias' delivery alone. Much though the cleric hated to admit it, the dragonkin was far more qualified, as she had been through this many times and knew exactly what to do to sooth many a mother in the throes of childbirth even though she had yet to bear any children herself. Yet, though Alma now felt relieved that Reis was placed in charge, for whatever Alma was suffering from would have been every bit as debilitating as her lack of experience, a strange feeling had nonetheless crested in her heart and refused to go away.
It was almost like...jealousy.
The Beoulve girl, almost embarrassed by such a thought, shook herself back to attention and brought up one shaking hand to mop Agrias' brow, silently wishing that this ordeal would end.
After another twenty minutes of difficult labor and nerve-wreaking anxiety for all those involved, Alma's unspoken wish was granted. With once last grunt from Agrias, there was a cheer from the ladies that was quickly drowned out by the cries of a newborn baby. Agrias, who looked as windblown as a castaway on Midnight's Deep, sagged against her pillow, an exhausted smile lighting her features. Reis gently took the newborn in her arms, smiled a broad beaming grin, and gazed down at the holy knight.
"Congratulations, Lady Agrias, it's a girl!"
Excited, Lavian and Alicia as well as Alma looked over Reis' shoulders to catch their first glimpse of the holy knight's newborn daughter. While the twins cooed over the child, Alma kneeled at Agrias' bedside to wipe her brow, all the while wondering at the strange hole that had somehow opened in her heart.
"How do you feel, Agrias?" she asked gently, painting on a smile that felt only half real.
The holy knight smiled. "I've had better days. But, I'm alright now. Can one of you go get Ramza, please?"
"Of course", Alma replied as she looked towards Alicia and gave her a nod. The excited young monk wasted no time as she ran out the door, nearly tearing it off its hinges as she raced into the next room where the baby's father was awaiting the joyous news.
Alma was almost amused when she saw that Ramza had nearly jumped out of his skin when the door to his room suddenly burst open. The Beoulve girl saw her brother look up from his seat on the sofa and then lock gazes glance with the excited monk, the expression of incredible joy on her face quickly finding a twin on his own.
"Congratulations, Ramza! Your child is born! And, it's a girl!"
Alma turned away and wept, wondering why her tears felt so joyless.
SSSSSS
"How is she?" Ramza asked as he looked down at Agrias who, completely spent from the birth, had dropped off to sleep after spending a few wondrous moments with her daughter.
"She's exhausted, but she will be just fine," Reis answered as she handed the baby girl to her father. "All she needs just now is to rest, that's all.
"Aye," Beowulf agreed, clapping a hand to Ramza's shoulder. "Congratulations to you and Agrias. We're very happy for you both."
Ramza, his joy leaving him too tongue-tied to speak, simply smiled as he took his newborn daughter in his arms. "I can't thank you two enough for your support," he said.
"No, the honor is ours," Beowulf insisted. "Without you, I would have never been able to even find Reis, much less break the curse that had been placed upon her. And, lest we forget, you helped me to rescue her a second time from Celebrant Bremondt. I owe you a debt beyond payment and we are only too happy to do this in return for your generosity."
"That's right!" Reis agreed. "Anyway, have you decided on a name for your new daughter yet?"
In truth, Ramza had no idea. That he would become a father while on the run from church and state alike and battling Lucavi demons for the fate of the world wasn't exactly an eventuality he'd been prepared for and a name for his child was the last thing on his mind.
"I'm not sure… what do you think, Alma?" he asked, turning to his sister.
Alma, who still brushed at her eyes, seemed startled by the question. "Are you asking for my opinion? Why don't you ask Agrias when she wakes up? She is the baby's mother, after all."
"True…but it wouldn't hurt to have a suggestion from my little sister."
Alma hesitated for a moment as she probed her mind for name for her newborn niece. "Well, maybe we can name her after our mother?" she suggested.
Ramza raised an eyebrow "You mean 'Rachel'? Do you think Agrias will like it?"
The Beoulve girl rolled her eyes. "Well, why don't you wait for her to wake up and ask her? In any case, I need to get some rest. Agrias isn't the only one whose been run ragged by this ordeal."
True to his nature, Ramza looked quite sheepish when he realized that he'd completely overlooked his sister's state, as well as the others who'd assisted Agrias during her hours of labor. "I'm sorry, Alma," Ramza spluttered in apology. "Forgive me. I owe you a debt of gratitude as well. Please, get some rest and I'll talk to you again later."
Alma nodded, silently grateful for the reprieve, and had been halfway out of the room when a wave of dizziness washed over her. The image of doorway she'd been heading towards suddenly wavered and began to tilt from one side to the other. Her gait faltered and she started to stumble. Alma was dimly aware of Reis' voice asking "Sweetie, what's wrong?"
Alma did not answer. Even if she had known, her thoughts had become strangely scattered and distant. All she did know was that the world was suddenly turning dark, and not just because her vision was strangely failing. Somehow, though she could not explain it, the sight of Ramza and Agrias' child had caused some sort of chasm to yawn open in her heart.
And, from within, wafted billowing clouds of melancholy and regret.
The last thing she saw before her world went dark was her brother and friends rushing to her side.
SSSSSS
"Alma?" she heard a distant voice call out "Are you awake? How are you feeling, dear?"
Alma groaned as she slowly opened her eyes and found herself in bed. Through eyes bleary with tears, she saw Reis leaning over her, gently wiping at her brow with a damp cloth.
"Reis, is that you?" she asked hoarsely as she tried to sit up, but the older woman gripped Alma's shoulders and gently pushed her back down onto the bed.
"Yes, Alma, it's me. You are still not well, so please do not try to move yet."
"What happened, how long have I been out?"
"A few hours. You passed out after you told your brother to wait until Agrias had woken up to see if she wanted to name the baby after your mother."
Alma stared at Reis and, when she spoke, she could not keep her befuddlement from her words. "Have you been looking after me this whole time?"
The older woman smiled and nodded and Alma could not help the feeling of guilt that curdled in her gut. Reis was a truly remarkable woman. In the past day, she'd helped Agrias through her labor and, barely a heartbeat later, she had taken on the burden of caring for Alma as well.
The Beoulve girl's early incredulity towards the woman now turned to mortification at her own foolish pride.
"I'm sorry, Reis," Alma said, though it nearly came out as a whimper. "I didn't mean to cause you trouble. I don't know what came over me…"
"You didn't?" the dragonkin asked as her smile grew wider. "Really, Alma? Even if that's true, I would have volunteered anyway. After all, you will also be needing my help soon."
The Beoulve girl had been feeling quite groggy after her episode, but Reis' words had roused her just as surely as a pail of icy water being tipped over her head.
"W-what do you mean?" she asked, her voice quavering so she barely understood her own words.
Her expression softening, Reis leaned over and placed a hand over her friend's belly. And, even before the dragonkin spoke, the Beoulve girl remembered with sudden dread how her dress had seemed a pinch too tight of late.
"Alma…," she asked gently, "Why didn't you tell us you were also with child? Especially me? Beowulf and I owe our happiness, and our very lives, to your brother. And, I also consider you as a friend as well. You know I will always be here for you when you need me."
Reis's words only came to Alma in bits and pieces, their meaning too great to grasp all at once. She shook her head frantically, as though the simple action could negate what she had just heard. "No, I'm not, I can't be!"
"Are you sure? Have you been experiencing nausea and an increase in appetite lately? Have you noticed your clothes getting a bit tighter, or your mood suddenly shifting? Did you miss your monthly cycle?"
Alma sagged against her pillow, the weight of the truth, and the irony therein, crashing down upon her all at once. There was only one person who could be the father.
The same man who'd abducted her from Orbonne Monastery on that night that seemed like a hundred years ago.
The same man she'd tried to seduce in order to win her freedom, only for the tables to turn as she fell in love with him instead.
The same man who had pledged to take her as his wife, but had died before they could wed...yet not before leaving a part of himself with her before their tragic parting.
"Well, yes," Alma admitted, wondering how much the perceptive dragonkin had gleaned from her long silence. "But, I thought that I'd only missed my cycle because of the hard travel we'd had after leaving Murond. I'm not used to these long marches like Ramza and the rest of you."
"I see… well, you thought wrong, Miss Beoulve. If you don't mind my asking, have you been… intimate with anyone in the last few months?"
Alma felt her face turning red at her friend's questions. But, after everything Reis had done for her, she simply could not bring herself to lie to the older woman. "Well…yes," she answered shyly, lowering her head as if too embarrassed to look Reis in the eyes.
How small the words sounded when weighed against the truth. Had that been why the joy she should have felt at her niece's birth had been so tarnished? Because she had been aware, without truly realizing it, of this cruel joke fate had played on her? Already adrift, with her family largely gone and her home forever denied her, she now had the knowledge that her child, the one she was supposed to raise alongside Izlude, would grow up without a father.
As if nearly having her own soul evicted so that a demon could occupy her body hadn't been enough.
More tears came, and Alma found herself wondering if she would ever have enough tears for this. Reis put her arms around the weeping cleric and drew her close, letting Alma cry unabashedly into her shoulder.
"The father must've been someone you cared deeply for," Reis observed. "May I ask who he is?"
"Um… would it be alright if I tell you another time?" Alma asked in a voice that was very young and very small.
Reis sighed, but nodded understandingly. "Very well, I understand if you do not wish to speak of it now. Just try and get some rest. And, don't worry about a thing. You still have people who care about you, and I don't doubt for a minute that they'd care for your child as well."
Whatever Alma might have said in reply could not get past the lump in her throat as she recalled the one person she most wanted to talk to...and who was now lost to her forever.
"In the meantime," Reis went on. "I will be awake a while longer. So, if you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask."
Alma managed what she hoped was a credible imitation of a smile, feeling some small relief that her friend decided not to press the issue further. "I will, Reis. And thank you, for everything you've done for me and my brother."
"No problem, dear. I'll be taking my leave now. Rest well, Alma."
"You too. Good night, Reis."
SSSSSS
Unfortunately, sleep proved elusive for Alma after her caretaker left. Even after turning the notion over in her mind for what felt like days, the revelation that she too, was with child still stabbed at her heart. Though, she supposed, she shouldn't have been surprised. Alma knew the possibility of getting pregnant when she and Izlude became involved, but she had been so desperately torn between her love for him and her fear for her brother that whatever inner voice might have given warning had been drowned out. If Izlude had lived, she still would have been alone and with a baby on the way, as his duties would have taken him from her side from time to time. But, Alma believed she nonetheless would have been so happy, knowing that the father of her child still lived and still loved her. Now, by contrast, she felt lonelier and weaker than she had while in Hashmalum's captivity, even though she was surrounded by friends who loved and cared about her, including her favorite brother.
Realizing that sleep would not find her this evening, Alma sighed and rose from her bed. She was still upset, frustrated, and more than a bit frightened of what she'd learned and hoped that a walk in the brisk night air might help to clear her mind. She had to think long and hard about her future, and that of her child. And, if Reis had guessed at her pregnancy so easily, Alma feared she didn't have much time to decide what she was going to do next. Pulling a light cloak over her nightgown, Alma put on her shoes and made her way outside. Their current domicile, a country inn which had been booked under one of Ramza's numerous aliases, had a small but lovely courtyard that sprung up amidst the square enclosure of rooms, kitchens, and storerooms that rose around it. As she passed into the garden, wending her way along the cobblestone path and past towering hedges dotted with flowers, Alma turned her gaze towards the starry night sky and the beautiful moon. Yet, the radiant glow she'd so adored as a child only caused still more pangs of sadness as memories assailed her. She remembered how, during her "captivity", she and the knight blade would take walks like this around the Riovanes Castle grounds and enjoy their evenings together, lost in each other's eyes before she had to be returned to her room.
Why?! Alma asked herself as her eyes brimmed with tears. Why did you have to die?!
Alma found the onrush of tears to be unstoppable as she remembered the horrible fate that had befallen her love, and the realization that he would never see the child that was growing in her belly.
"Alma? Are you all right?" a voice rang out, causing the Beoulve girl to stiffen.
Frantically dapping at her eyes, Alma spun around to find her brother, Ramza. He stood not too far behind her, almost as though he had been watching her in silence for the past few moments.
"I-I'm fine!" she insisted, but knew she sounded just the opposite. "Why do you ask? And, how long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough," her brother answered, a rare hint of firmness entering his tone. "Is it true what Reis said? Are you with child, Alma?"
Alma was silent for a long moment before answering, torn as she was between her desperate wish to confess all and the fear that she'd only further burden her brother who had already been through so much.
Ultimately, it was the child in her belly that decided the matter.
"Yes…I have been for the last three months," she confessed, her words ending in a sob. "I just didn't realize until Lady Reis told me."
Ramza was silent for a moment as he took this in. And, despite the effects of early motherhood on her thinking, Alma could sense her brother's train of thought. Altima, the High Seraph, would have been all but invincible if she had been resurrected at full strength, but the same, ironic cruel twist of fate that had scarred Alma had also denied Altima her victory. In order for the High Seraph to be resurrected at the height of her profane power, the sacrifice of a virgin maid was required. And, by the time Hashmalum had attempted to sacrifice Alma, she was no longer a virgin, having coupled with Izlude only weeks earlier. Fortunately for her, the Lucavi demon was unaware of that, otherwise, he would have unhesitatingly disposed of her and searched for another sacrifice. If not for this one fluke, Ramza and the others would have stood no chance against Altima. But, both survivors of the House Beoulve thought it best to leave this revelation unspoken.
"I see…" Ramza said simply.
"Are you upset with me?" Alma asked after a long pause.
Under normal circumstances, Ramza was forced to admit that he would have been very disappointed to hear of such a thing. But, the times had changed. And, having just fathered a child out of wedlock himself, he knew he was no position to lecture his little sister about chastity.
"No…," he answered, causing Alma to sag from mingled relief and exhaustion. "I understand, and I'm very happy for you…"
His words trailed off for a moment, as though he were carefully weighing his next words. Ultimately, he asked "Izlude is the father, isn't he?"
"Yes…," Alma whispered, easing herself onto a stone bench. "But, he was nothing like the others. He was never possessed by the Lucavi, he even tried to save me from Hashmalum. I...I loved him, Ramza."
Ramza joined her on the bench and, as Reis had done before, allowed Alma to sob into his shoulder for a long moment. Yet, once her tears were spent, the Beoulve girl felt as though the bleeding at her heart had been staunched. The wound was still there, it probably would remain until the day she died. But, knowing that the same brother who'd always shown her patience, understanding, and love was still at her side, as were his friends, had helped to ease the pain.
"He sounds like he was a good man," Ramza observed, speaking with the voice of someone who knew regret only too well. "I wish I'd had the chance to know him. But, Alma, you need not worry about a thing. I will protect your child every bit as much as my own. And, I'm sure the others will agree with me."
"Thank you, Ramza," Alma gushed, nearly overwhelmed by gratitude.
"You're welcome. Well, we'll have a lot to discuss. But, for now, please come back inside before you catch cold."
Nodding, Alma rose and headed back to her room, the ghost of a genuine smile dawning on her face at last.
"One more thing, though," Ramza called out, moving alongside Alma and placing one hand on her stomach. "Congratulations, Alma."
SSSSSS
As has been noted many times, and by many different people, Ramza was truly a study in contradictions.
He had the body of a boy, a face evocative of one younger still, and yet the heart of a man.
He was a fierce warrior who hated fighting and who never took a life without wishing he hadn't needed to do so.
He was an outstanding commander who wished day and night that one of his more seasoned companions would take up the mantle of leadership.
He had seen the depredations people were capable of inflicting upon one another, and yet he always held true to the belief that many good people yet walked the earth.
He had lost his place as heir to one of the greatest fortunes in Ivalice, and yet nonetheless counted himself wealthy beyond measure by virtue of the friends he had and the love he'd found.
"You plan on letting her meet me before either of us goes gray?" a woman's voice snapped him from his reverie.
Ramza, looking for all the world like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, turned sheepishly to face Agrias. The holy knight, though still exhausted from birthing the daughter Ramza now cradled in his arms, looked no less fearsome as she lay abed with her nightgown askew and her flaxen tresses disheveled.
"Sorry about that, Agrias," the young Beoulve said sheepishly, turning back to the newly dubbed Rachel. "She's just... so hard to let go of."
"Well, you'd better get used to it. Sooner or later, she'll want to be fed. And, I rather doubt she'd find much of a meal under your shirt."
Blushing at the implication, Ramza gently eased the tiny girl into the holy knight's arms. Considering that Agrias had never handled, much less reared a child, the young Beoulve was surprised to see her quickly shift her grip to cradle the baby's head and gently rock her back and forth with an almost hypnotic gentility. Watching the pair, Ramza wondered, not for the first time, how things had turned out as they had.
They were both fugitives, living off the - admittedly, considerable - war chest they'd amassed during the conflict, and they now had the added complication of a child to raise in whatever life in exile they'd manage to eke out for themselves. And, that was leaving aside the revelation of Alma's own pregnancy by the late Izlude Tingel.
Yet, for all that, the only thing Ramza could think about was how innocent Rachel looked as she was being rocked back and forth in Agrias' arms, and how the holy knight's normally hard features softened so as she gazed adoringly at their child.
"I would've thought she'd be much bigger," Agrias opined after Rachel had nodded off. "Especially considering how fat I was near the end."
"You weren't fat, you were glowing," Ramza contradicted reflexively, remembering some rather violent mood swings that characterized the time Agrias had been unable to see her feet for nearly three months.
"Apparently, you have a lot to learn about women. By the time I was four months along, I felt as wide as a walrus. And, I probably looked ridiculous trying to wear my armor in such a state."
Considering it was he who had put Agrias in "such a state", Ramza could offer only a nervous laugh in reply. Luckily, the holy knight seemed to have been engaged in a rare bout of humor, for she gave a smile and motioned for him to move closer. The young Beoulve carefully seated himself at her side, both new parents well and truly entranced by the tiny treasure Agrias held in her sword callused hands.
And, in that moment, Ramza forgot his troubles. Or, perhaps, it would be nearer the truth to say that he refused to be cowed by those troubles. Whatever else happened, the battle he and his companions waged against demons and corrupt humans had ended. He had, he hoped, done honor to his father's memory and all that remained was to see that the specter of war, which had cost Ramza and company so much, never touched either his little girl or his unborn nephew or niece.
He would not see another Teta.
His introspection came to an end when the door creaked open to reveal Rad, the dark knight gesturing for Ramza to approach. Telling Agrias to try and get some rest, the young Beoulve left the room to confer with the former mercenary.
"What is it, Rad?" Ramza asked, and Rad handed him a letter.
"This arrived at the front counter an hour ago, Ramza," Rad said, unmistakable wariness in his voice. "When the innkeeper gave it to me, he said the guy who handed it in said that it was from the king. He seems to know you're still alive and well, even knew which alias you were using."
Ramza heaved a heavy sigh, wearier and saddened than panicked by this news. Given Delita's resourcefulness, not to mention that he now commanded the resources of an entire kingdom, it was only a matter of time before the newly crowned king tracked down his former friend. The young Beoulve had hoped that would happen after plans had been drawn up for the remaining companions to disappear into the shadows, but it seemed the same luck that had seen him through Murond Death City had finally run out.
A chill rippled at his heart as fears for Agrias, Rachel, Alma, and her child slithered up his spine and spread icy tendrils through his mind. Would they be spared? Or, would the ruthlessly pragmatic Delita decide that, where his duplicitous legacy was concerned, the only good witness was a dead one?
Remembering the callous disregard for life Delita had shown when he'd executed Zalmo, not to mention what Ramza suspected was the truth behind the tale of Goltana and Orlandu killing each other, he feared the latter was all too likely.
"I don't like the sound of this," Ramza admitted. "But, I think I ought to see what he wants."
"Are you nuts?!" Rad blurted, but quickly dropped his voice to an urgent whisper. "He'll likely add your head to his collection, so that he can put the church in his debt and consolidate his power."
"You might be right. But, if it's me he wants, I'm willing to make that sacrifice. Just in case, I want you and the others to pack up and be ready to ride. If I'm not back by morning, then ride off without me."
Rad had been about to object, but Ramza silenced him with an upturned hand.
"Listen to me," he said with a rare hint of firmness in his tone. "If something happens to me, I need you and the others to take care of Agrias, Rachel, Alma, and her baby. I'm not going over there to sign my own death warrant."
"If you go to see Delita, that's exactly what you'll be doing."
"Maybe. But, if it buys the people I care for the time they need to make their escape, I'm willing to do it."
Here, Ramza paused as an ironic grin crossed his features.
"I can't explain it," he admitted. "But, seeing Rachel, hearing her little heart beating against my chest...there's nothing I won't do for her, nothing I wouldn't risk. And, I want to make sure that she has the long and happy life that all of us gave up when we decided to fight the Lucavi."
Rad opened his mouth, but whatever he'd been about to say died on his lips and he gave a sad nod.
"Well, Rachel still needs a father," he noted, laying a hand on Ramza's shoulder. "So, don't think you can afford to die for another, say, fifty years or so."
Ramza chuckled and placed his own hand on Rad's shoulder, giving it a comradely squeeze.
"I'll do my best. Thank you, Rad. Now, please go and do as I've said. If I can, I'll circle back to catch up with you."
"You'd better."
After his friend left, Ramza broke the seal on the envelope and removed the sheet of parchment that lay within. Even before unfolding the letter, he was already certain of who it was from. And, sure enough, the bold strokes of Delita's handwriting confirmed his suspicions. The letter was brief but direct and straight to the point; the new king wanted Ramza to meet him at the nearby cemetery at midnight. The letter had instructed Ramza to come alone and promised that Delita would do the same. And, inevitably, the letter also warned that it would not be wise to refuse. As he was about to leave the inn, Rad and Beowulf, who had been having a conversation in the lobby, spotted him. The former Knight Templar, who must have been told about Ramza's hastily drawn plan in case the meeting went ill, raced over and asked where he was going.
"To meet with a friend," Ramza said simply, not even breaking stride.
Knowing all too well who this 'friend' was, Beowulf insisted on accompanying him. Rad, claiming he'd already disseminated the young Beoulve's orders, quickly voiced his agreement. Sensing that time was too precious to waste arguing, Ramza agreed on the condition that they do not tell Agrias and the others, unless their band was forced to flee the inn, and that they kept themselves out of Delita's sight.
A short ride on his chocobo brought the young Beoulve to the cemetery where he awaited the arrival of the new king amidst the eerie reflections the moonlight cast on the gravestones. Delita's choice of meeting place, and the irony therein, was not lost on Ramza, and he surreptitiously loosened his sword in case it came to a fight. He fervently hoped that Delita would not make a fight of it, regardless of his plans for this meeting, but the young Beoulve could not keep a grim presentiment from taking root in his mind.
Yet, remembering Rachel's slumbering face was enough to firm his resolve and steady his hand.
Whatever happened to him tonight wouldn't matter, so long as Agrias and Rachel remained safe.
The sound of leaves rustling drew his gaze down the path and, sure enough Delita emerged from the shadows. Lowborn he might have been, but one would never have guessed that from his expression of calm self-assurance, the poise and grounded grace by which he moved in his resplendent golden armor and blood red robes, and how those royal trappings somehow seemed to belong there.
Delita was not the same young man who had followed Ramza to Fort Ziekden in their failed attempt to save Teta from the Corpse Brigade.
But, then again, neither was Ramza.
Both men had emerged from that tragedy, much as the phoenix rose towards the sun, but each man had been transformed very differently.
Ramza had become a pariah, sought after and hated for adhering to a moral code that Ivalice had abandoned, while Delita had become a master of manipulating history itself from the shadows.
Now, they stood face to face, each beholding a stranger.
Ramza's introspection was broken when, to his surprise, he saw that Delita was true to his word. The newly crowned king had met him alone as well, with not a single bodyguard in sight.
"You're alone," Ramza said, barely able to force the words past the sudden lump in his throat as he watched his old friend dismount from his chocobo and contemplated what scheme this might presage.
Delita seemed to catch his thought, for he raised his arms in what Ramza supposed was meant to be a conciliatory gesture. "Yes. And, as you can see, I am unarmed as well. You wouldn't attack an unarmed man, would you?"
Knowing that Delita's sharp wits were deadlier than any sword, Ramza was far from assured by these words.
"No… not unless I was threatened," he replied, accentuating the warning in his words. "What do you want, Delita?"
"To make you an offer…"
"An offer? What could you possibly have that I would want?"
The new king stared at him incredulously, almost as though the question had offended him. "Are you seriously asking me that? Where do you intend to go after you leave here? You are still a wanted man, and even I am not strong enough to protect you, given your...penchant for making enemies."
Ramza's eyes narrowed dangerously, though Delita didn't so much as even blink.
"We both know I could not have stood idly by with...," he trailed off, catching himself before revealing the one aspect of the War of the Lions that Delita was unlikely to be aware of. "With everything that was happening, how could I have done nothing?"
Much to his surprise, Delita gave a small smile. "That's one thing I've always admired about you. You have the courage of your convictions, even when it has...unhappy results. Still, the fact remains that your prospects are bleak. The death of the High Confessor didn't wipe away your alleged crimes. If anything, it added to them."
"You need not concern yourself with that. It's not your problem."
With that, the young Beoulve turned and began to walk away. Some part of him supposed he ought to consider himself lucky that Delita had made no attempt to capture the fugitive Beoulve, but that voice was drowned out by the disappointment Ramza felt when he'd seen only the gleam of a calculating mind in Delita's eyes, as though this meeting had been no more than one further move in some grand game.
If Ramza hadn't believed it before, he did now. The Delita who had been Ramza's friend, his brother in ties that ran deeper than blood, no longer existed.
"Wait, Ramza, please hear me out!" Delita entreated, almost desperately.
Despite himself, the young Beoulve did halt. Why he did so, he could not say, however. Perhaps the strange note of desperation in Delita's tone had piqued his curiosity. Maybe concern for what remained of his family, and the most innocent of the Beoulve line, compelled him to seize upon any chance to keep them safe, no matter how small or far-fetched.
Or, could it have been that yet enduring belief that, for all the evils people were capable of, there were still some in the world who were capable of good...
...and, like some of Ramza's allies who had once been enemies, they chose to reveal themselves at the strangest time.
He did not know, but some inner voice told him to turn nonetheless.
"What is it?" he asked, still palming the hilt of his sword.
"You've lived the last seven years of your life on the run," Delita pointed out, ending his sentence with a careless shrug. "Do you really want to keep doing so for the rest of your life?"
"Once I leave Ivalice, I won't have to anymore."
"Are you sure that's what you really want, Ramza? And, more to the point, where would you go? Ordalia? They hate Ivalicians with a vengeance and, much like the church, they would offer you only the pretense of a trial before killing you. Romanda might be a better choice, if only for a time. Should they learn of your identity, I imagine they would offer your extradition in exchange for, shall we say, certain trade concessions? What's more, even if you carve out a niche for yourself in a foreign land, are you willing to live out your life there as an exile? To never again to set foot on the land of your birth? The land your father died to protect? The land that, for all intents and purposes, you died to protect?"
Ramza was silent for a long moment, pondering his former friend's words. This conversation had dredged up memories of Delita relaying to Ramza, at that time the would-be rescuer of Princess Ovelia, that the young Beoulve had no friends to whom he could turn, as either faction would kill him. And, with a dread sense of déjà vu, Ramza realized that, as had been the case then, Delita was right. Though Ivalice had done him few favors since his father's death, it was still his home and the land he had fought to save from the depredations of man and demon alike. Ramza knew his deeds would garner no acknowledgement, let alone thanks, but he still hadn't wanted to quit the land of his birth.
He had wanted to settle in this land, away from prying eyes, and raise his daughter alongside Agrias. But, with a price on his head, he knew that he had little choice but to flee, for his family's sake as well as his own.
"What about Agrias and your child?" Delita interjected, following Ramza's train of thought with eerie precision. "And your little sister? Is the life of a fugitive what you want for them?"
Ramza gritted his teeth as he glared at his friend. Of course, Delita would learn of his new daughter. As Ramza had come to learn, the young king was cunning and had eyes and ears in many places. By this point, he would have thought that nothing Delita did could surprise him, but he never thought the new king would go so far as to exploit his love for Agrias, their child, and his younger sister.
Yet, unscrupulous though Delita was, Ramza couldn't find a hole in the man's argument. If he'd had only his own life to consider, Ramza would have willingly consigned himself to living the rest of his life on the run and eking out such a life as he could on foreign shores. But, his life was no longer his alone. Indeed, it hadn't been since he'd fallen in love with Agrias and resolved himself to rescue Alma. Nearly a decade ago, he chose to run away from his home and his brothers after the tragedy at Fort Ziekden in the vain hope that he could walk away from the pain of betrayal and, what he believed, was the death of his closest friend. Now, however, Ramza had his love and his child, as well as his sister and her child, to think about- he could not afford to think only of himself.
"What do you propose then, Your Majesty?" he asked, making no effort to conceal the venom in his words.
"What if I told you I could make it possible for you to return to Ivalice and live in peace?" Delita asked, an earnest expression on his features. "That I could give you and those you hold dear a new life?"
"And what do you ask in return, Delita? I very much doubt you are willing to help me simply out of the goodness of your heart. Back in Zeltennia, you told me that you would not think twice of killing me should the hour came, or did I hear you wrong?"
Delita hesitated for a moment, looking almost pained at his former friend's harsh words, and then sighed. "You did not," he admitted. "It was a time of war, and I have said and done much that I wish I hadn't. Yet, none has pained me as much as parting ways with you. I know you have no reason to believe me when I say this, but I still consider you my friend. In all the time since we've found each other again, I've never told you. And for that, I apologize. I may not be able to clear your name just yet, but I can still pardon your comrades so that they can live out their lives peacefully without fear of being hunted by the church."
"How can you do that?"
"You'd be surprised just how much I'm privy to these days. But, that is a tale for another time. The point is that the balance of power in Ivalice has shifted in my favor. Much of that, I owe to your assistance, however unwitting. And now, I want to help you."
Here, Delita paused and turned his gaze towards the heavens. He raised one hand, from which Ramza spied Teta's pendent glinting in the moon's rays.
"Teta would have wanted me to. Please, think about what I've said, Ramza."
Once more, Ramza was silent. His rational side told him that he should refuse Delita, that his former friend was a master of manipulation and deceit, and that this was surely an elaborate trap to ensnare the only people privy to the truth of his rise to power. And, that was certainly possible, as Delita had beguiled many into trusting him only to discard them when their usefulness had ended. And yet, deep down, another part of him still wanted to believe in his old friend despite everything that had happened between them. A glimmer of hope - guarded and distant, but a glimmer of hope nonetheless - had flared to life in his mind. Delita had shown that he could be truthful when it suited him. What's more, while they had embarked upon very different courses to bring peace to Ivalice, he and Delita had never truly been enemies, as Delita had found one excuse after another to spare Ramza's life and had even assisted him several times throughout his journey.
Ramza knew things would not, and could not, be as they had been before that tragic day at Fort Ziekden.
He and Delita had embarked on journeys too far removed for their paths to ever converge again.
Yet, as different as the two were now, could they nonetheless reach an accord?
Weighed against such wonders and horrors that Ramza had seen in his long journey, from the holy stones breathing life back into Malak's lungs to the transformation of men into demons, this seemed all too possible.
And, as the notion began to take root in Ramza's mind, it became all the more tantalizing. If Delita was being truthful - admittedly, a big "if" - it would mean that Ramza's companions would be free of further reprisals from the church. And, even if Delita could not wipe away Ramza's alleged crimes, the chance that the young Beoulve could raise his daughter, knowing that she was safe, might very well be within reach.
If offering Delita the benefit of the doubt could make that happen, then he owed it to them to try.
Ramza faced Delita once more. The newly crowned king's ever-present calculating expression still made him wary, but it no longer seemed quite as sinister as before.
"Very well…," he said at last, a note of relief in his tone. "I'm willing to see if you mean what you say. Please, don't make me regret it."
"I won't….," Delita affirmed, and Ramza was struck by how his former friend's shoulders sagged in relief at these words. "And, thank you, Ramza."
A/N: Ok, our brief interlude with Ramza and company will end here and we will be shifting the scene back to our knight blade, Izlude ^^ Once again, I would like to thank my co-writer and editor Falchion1984 for making this sequel possible and please review as we would love to hear your opinions on our fic ;)