Chapter 6: A New Journey Has Begun
Darkness.
All about Izlude was darkness, an ebony gloom that spanned from one horizon to the other.
He whirled, frantically seeking some point of light to guide him to safety, yet all he saw was the same impenetrable shadows that rose on all sides. He called out for help, yet the only reply was the forlorn echoes of his own voice.
Desperate, but aimless, he could only stumble along blindly, seeking the faint hope of escape.
He wandered on, for how long he could not say. Days? Months? Years?
Centuries?
He had no idea. Indeed, it was all he could do to hold back a rising tide of panic and keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Then, to his amazement, the darkness was dispelled in a burst of sudden radiance.
And, when he blinked away enough lingering stars to see, what he saw froze his blood.
It was Alma...and yet, it was not.
She was taller than his love - more than twice her height, in fact - and, rather than the delicate femininity he recalled during their time together, she had the toned form of a warrior. What's more, whereas Alma couldn't bring herself to stab her onetime captor in his sleep, this being positively radiated the menacing aura of one who reveled in bloody work. She didn't dress like Alma either. Rather than the simple but elegant gown of an aristocratic school, this being wore a skin tight outfit of crimson leather that accentuated her every curve, as well as a pair of knee high boots, a sheathed long sword strapped to each.
What's more, she had wings.
Yet, though these looked eerily similar to those feathered wings of the angels which figured prominently in the gospel of the Church of Glabados, these wings did not invoke images of godly souls being carried off to paradise.
Instead, the sight of them caused Izlude to recoil, suddenly in fear for his very soul.
Perhaps it was the almost blade-like appearance of the feathers. Maybe it was the wings' almost sensual undulations, which could almost make one forget how sinister this being looked.
Or, maybe it was how the wings shed red liquid, almost like blood.
Yet, for all that, there was no mistaking her face. It was set in a harsher expression that Alma's, yet the features he knew so well were all there.
Yet, when her blue eyes met Izlude's green orbs, there was no recognition.
"Ah," she cooed, speaking with his love's voice, almost sounding pleased. "Another offering to the High Seraph. Hasmalum's meager efforts have left me rather...peckish."
He could feel his heart drop into his stomach.
This had been Hashmalum's foul work?
The Lucavi demon who wore his father's flesh had kept Alma alive so that she could be turned into one of their foul number?!
Izlude was too horrorstricken to speak, his eyes stinging as the weight of this revelation fell upon him like a hammer. He felt it knock the breath from his lungs and jolt his heart as he saw everything he had struggled for, everything he had ventured back from the realm of the dead for, crumble before his eyes.
Anguish choked away his voice, but another rang out.
"Your reign of terror is over!"
He whirled to see a young man, one that both he and the demoness knew very well indeed.
"Why, if it isn't my big brother," the High Seraph cooed, accentuating her words with a giggle that stabbed at Izlude's heart. "Once more coming to chase away the shadows and do battle with the monsters under my bed. You do remember that, don't you brother?"
When Ramza replied, he could hear in his voice the longing for those simpler times...and the grief for what he had to do.
"That was a long time ago," he intoned sadly.
And, indeed, when Ramza stood full in view, it was clear that he was no longer a boy. He stood tall and straight, clad in resplendent armor emblazoned a crest the likes of which had never been seen in the fractured land over which man and demon waged war.
The white lion of Gallione's Hokuten, The black lion of Zeltennia's Nanten, Lionel's gryphon, Favoham's wyvern, the gorgon's head framed by a shield of Limberry's Aegis Knights, and the crown over swords emblem of the Lionsguard.
This young man, an outcast amongst the very people he nonetheless stepped forth to protect, wore the raiment of a champion of Ivalice, as though all the wanting and scattered strength of that troubled realm had coalesced into this one man in a final desperate gamble for survival.
And, he looked the part of one who could bear such a weighty mantle.
Whereas, back in Riovanes, Ramza had seemed as though one tottering on the threshold between boyhood and manhood, he was now every inch the knight he was born to be. He strode forth like a colossus, he gait measured and even, and a magnificent sword in one fist.
He gazed at the demon who had been his sister with regret, but without fear.
"Oh, come now," the High Seraph said in an almost admonishing tone. "You wouldn't hurt me, would you? Not your little sister."
As if to accentuate this terrible truth, the High Seraph murmured an arcane phrase, and some of her demonic features melted away...
...but, only some.
She seemed to shrink until her head could've been safely tucked under Ramza's chin, which was surely another strike aimed at damaging the champion of Ivalice's resolve. Yet, despite the ploy, his expression remained unchanged. The High Seraph, who had once been Alma, still had her wings, which she folded over herself as her leather garb evaporated into crimson fog, leaving her as naked as the day she'd been born.
Or, perhaps, the night she'd offered up her maidenhood and Izlude chose to take it.
That night came to him again, but this time leaving a bitter taste in his mouth as he recalled how happy they had been and how tragically short their bliss had proven. Through misting eyes, he saw the harshness of her expression easing and, for a terrible moment, Izlude could almost believe that he beheld the same young woman he'd pledged his heart to.
Almost.
Though she stood before them, as naked as she'd been when she and Izlude had made love, her wings strategically folded to protect her modesty, the very air around her still hummed with malice.
"You wouldn't harm me, would you?" she asked, her lower lip trembling.
Ramza heaved a heavy sigh, and Izlude feared he already knew the answer.
"My sister would rather die than live as your slave, High Seraph," he declared.
Izlude's earlier panic seized him once again, rising in a tide that threatened to engulf him. He had come to save Alma, but was that even possible with her having been subverted by the Lucavi?
Yet, even if he knew how to purge the demonic influence from his love, how could he stand against Ramza when the young Beoulve had beaten him before and was now clearly more powerful than ever?
Before an answer could come to him, Ramza's blade was already angled for the kill.
Izlude, desperation taking over, reached for his own blade only to realize that it wasn't there.
And, he could only watch in horror as Ramza buried his blade deep in Alma's chest, both men screaming in anguish at the sight of the Beoulve girl slumping to the floor in a pool of crimson.
SSSSSS
"Young man, calm down!" a voice from somewhere called out. "Wake up, blast it!"
It is a truism in Ivalice that, when words failed, as they often did of late, violence quickly became the tool of choice. And, such was the case when Izlude felt a large, hard object strike him across the face.
"AHHHH!" he screamed, bolting upright so quickly that his would-be assailant leapt backwards.
Though "assailant" might have been something of a strong word. As the world came back into focus, Izlude saw an elderly man standing across from him, his palms held up in a calming gesture. Elderly the man might be, but age had done little to weaken his sinewy frame and brawny hands, the latter of which had the knight blade massaging a throbbing cheek.
"Who are you?" Izlude asked warily. "Where am I? What happened?"
"One thing at a time, young man," the old man said, cautiously approaching the knight blade. "You've just woken up, I don't want to overwhelm you. To answer your first question, my name is Doug Frederick and you are in my home in Kohlingen Village."
"Kohlingen Village? I've never heard of it."
"Yes, I hear that quite a lot. This village was established only recently. People displaced by the war had begun to flock here when the flood from Fort Besselt receded, hoping that the soil would be revitalized by the water. I was sowing my fields when I spied your faithful chocobo in the distance. We could always use another animal to pull our plows, so I decided to see if I could catch the bird. She bolted away from me before I got near her. But then, imagine my surprise when I saw her again the next day, dragging you behind her. She must have dragged you from the water to dry land and been looking for someone to help you."
Upon hearing this, Izlude could only shake his head in amazement. He wasn't overly surprised at Nelly's strength and loyalty, for she had demonstrated it time and again. But, given the poverty and chaos that the War of the Lions had sown, he was truly astonished that there was help for Nelly to have found. How easily he could've instead been discovered by someone who would've stripped off his armor for a few coins and left him for the crows. Murmuring a prayer of thanks, Izlude gingerly rose and took in his surroundings. His host, being a farmer, had a humble, but well-kept abode. The house was sparsely filled, its few furnishings being modest and well worn. However, the abode was snug and neat, and a spinning wheel in one corner suggested that a woman, likely Doug's wife or daughter, also called this place home.
"And, you've been looking after me ever since?" Izlude asked in amazement, distantly noticing that he once more spoke with Damien's Yardow accent. "How's Nelly, is she alright?"
"You mean your chocobo?" Doug asked, giving a reassuring nod. "Yes, she's doing just fine. She's been roaming the nearby pastures by day and sleeping in the stables with my other chocobos by night. Both of you were very lucky to have survived the flood. Many others weren't so fortunate, including the late queen."
Izlude was startled. "You mean Queen Ruvelia? What happened to her?"
"Well, much of that story is only rumor, mind you. As you may know, when her involvement in the plot to assassinate Princess Ovelia was discovered, she was imprisoned in Fort Besselet. In fact, one of the goals of the Hokuten's offensive there was to free her. But, during the battle, she vanished from her cell. Then, not long ago, her lifeless body was found washed up near Araguay Woods, along with several other knights who had gone missing from the field. By the look of it, she managed to bribe one of the guards into freeing her. But, it turns out that the queen's timing couldn't have been worse. As soon as she got outside, someone opened the sluice and she was caught up in the raging waters and swept away. Had the queen remained in her cell, she might very well have survived the flood."
Here, Doug paused for a moment and leaned in close to Izlude, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"I know this isn't exactly a becoming sentiment, but not many were aggrieved at her passing."
Unbecoming the sentiment might have been, but Izlude could not blame the old farmer. Ruvelia was a spiteful and vicious woman. Her husband, the late King Omdoria, had been an unfit ruler, as weak in will as he was in constitution. This had allowed the manipulative queen free reign to weave a vast web of information and intrigue...and to make sure that any threat to her position fell prey to her spider's venom. Rumors yet persisted that she'd had her own mother-in-law poisoned after the queen-mother had become overly critical of Ruvelia's heavy handed policies. However, when the queen sought to add Princess Ovelia to her list of fallen foes and thus neutralize both the young princess and Goltana, Delita had turned the tables by foiling and unmasking the plot. Shortly thereafter, Ruvelia was taken by the Nanten and consigned to Fort Besselat's dungeons.
Izlude doubted he'd be shedding many tears over her death, but, having nearly shared her fate, he found himself thinking that the executioner's blade might've been a kinder end to the former queen.
"To my knowledge," Doug continued, shaking the knight blade back to attention, "no one devoured by those waters has lived to tell the tale. But, you and your Nelly came away hale and whole. It's nothing short of a miracle."
Izlude was silent as he took in these words...and how Doug had unwittingly struck upon the truth of the matter. The fact that he and Nelly had survived the flood, especially when so many others did not, could only be attributed to the power of the holy stone. The same jewel that could evict men's very souls and turn them into demons had also restored his life and his precious eyesight, as well as disguised his face and voice so that his enemies would not discover that he yet walked the land of the living. Without its protection, both he and Nelly would have surely drowned. And, as if the gifts it had already heaped upon him hadn't been enough, Izlude could feel the reassuring bulk of the stone in his pocket, suggesting that Doug had chosen only to remove Izlude's armor rather than changing his clothes completely.
Just as surely as the stone could chose its hosts and bearers, it would hide itself from others.
This wonderment led to still more questions about the stone. Ramza and the shades of Izlude's parents had said that the stones' powers were given shape and purpose, for good or evil, by the person who used them. That seemed to suggest that the stones had something resembling a mind and a will, perhaps even a heart.
Has the stone chosen to save Izlude's life and to prevent Doug from finding it because it wanted him to succeed, and chose those actions as the best means to achieve that goal?
Izlude did not know. And, in truth, he was hesitant to think it over. After all, having seen what else the holy stones could do, he feared to probe the riddle of what might happen if the stone chose to do something less-than-benign.
"I see...," he said quietly, purposefully adding a groggy slur to his voice to deflect any questions about his long silence. "Have you been looking after me and Nelly this whole time? If so, I owe you a debt of gratitude."
The old man smiled. "Think nothing of it, young man. It's not in my nature to just leave someone in need when it lies in my power to render aid. What's your name, son?"
"Iz-…," The knight blade caught himself as soon as he realized his near miss. This was the first time he had spoken to anyone since he left behind his true identity at the tomb that was now Riovanes Castle, and he had to take great care not to let that slip.
He still had no idea whether or not the fated confrontation between Ramza and Hashmalum had happened yet. Though, if it hadn't, it would be best if the leonine demon who wore his father's face did not become wise to the knight blade's continued presence in the realm of the living.
"Sorry, I'm Damien Mitchell," he said, fishing the late Wyvern Knight's dog tag out from under his shirt. "I was formerly a knight at Riovanes, bodyguard to Duke Garrath Barrington. However, he was not a generous employer, so I left to join the Goltana army."
Doug raised an eyebrow, and Izlude suddenly found himself wondering if there had been some flaw in his tale. "Is that so?" the old man asked, almost offhandedly, but then giving a nod of understanding. "Well, that doesn't surprise me. The late Lord of Riovanes may have painted himself as a humanitarian, with those orphanages he built after the Fifty Years War, but it was no secret that he had quite a few skeletons in his armoire. In fact, I even heard that his own wards had little love for him."
"Late? You mean Barrington is dead also?" the knight blade asked, feigning surprise though he already knew this, having heard it from the Galthana twins while he was shadowing Ramza's party.
"Unfortunately, yes. His crushed body was found in his castle courtyard. The investigators believe that he fled to the roof, trying to escape whatever force was behind the massacre. But, whatever it was caught up with him and hurled him to his death."
"Oh… that's unfortunate. He was hardly a good man, but not many deserve such a gruesome end."
"Indeed."
The knight blade still had much he wished to say. He wanted to know if there had been any news of what had happened in the aftermath of the flood that had nearly claimed his life, as well as any tidbits that might lend new direction to his quest. Yet, if this village was indeed newly built, he doubted that Doug had had much time to visit the tavern and listen to gossip, assuming this village even had a tavern. Nonetheless, Izlude could feel time pressing upon him. He wanted to get back on the road and resume his search for Alma. Having effectively lost the trail of Ramza and his companions, he knew his only option was to act upon his contingency plan and travel to Orbonne Monestary. Once there, he would lie in wait for the young Beoulve to arrive and the confrontation to unfold.
After that, it would just be the simple matter of finding Alma and stealing her away from Hasmalum's clutches without dying for a second time at the hands of either the Lucavi demons or Ramza's band.
Oh yes, simple indeed! Izlude mused with a mental snort.
Still, he could see no better alternative. And, since Nelly had also survived the flood and this newfound village lay somewhere fairly close to Fort Besselat, a journey to Orbonne would be swift.
Thus resolved, Izlude tried to get up. But, to his dismay, he found that he had not emerged from his ordeal at Fort Besselt quite as unscathed as he'd thought. His vision blurred and his legs wobbled beneath him as he tried to rise. His caretaker also noticed and laid a restraining hand on his shoulder.
"Not so fast, son!" Doug admonished. "You've been through far too much, and you need time to mend."
"Well… I appreciate your help and I don't want to sound rude, but I must return to the front lines," Izlude spluttered, trying vainly to figure out which of the three blurry old men was the real Doug. "Otherwise, I may very well find myself branded a deserter."
"Easy, son! You may not realize this since you've been comatose, but the War of the Lions is over! Has been for over two months. There is no battle for you to return to!"
Izlude stared at the old farmer for a long moment, too stunned to speak.
"The war is over?" he murmured, unable to hide his amazement at this news.
And, indeed, this news defied the knight blade's wildest dreams. Not so long ago, back when he'd still been aligned with the unseen instigators of the war - and, indeed, the unseen instigators behind them - there were days he found himself wondering if the war would ever end...
...which, he realized with the benefit of hindsight, was precisely the point.
The longer the war dragged on, the more people died either from combat, starvation, or disease. The longer the war dragged on, the higher taxes rose and the fewer jobs became. The longer the war dragged on, the more scarce food became and the more people succumbed to the slow torture of watching their neighbors and loved ones being ravaged by hunger.
The longer the war dragged on, the angrier people became at the crown and the nobility...and the more susceptible to the church's plans to displace the monarchy.
Yet, the war had ended. And, by the sound of it, very suddenly. What's more, since Izlude yet lived, he suspected that the Lucavi demons' plans had not come to fruition either.
Had his last prayer, that Ramza would find the means to expose the demons and that Ivalice would rally against them, been answered?
"How is that possible?" he asked, still dumbstruck. "How could the war have ended so suddenly? And, who won?"
A distant expression came over Doug's face and, when he spoke next, his voice held a palpable air of philosophical melancholy.
"Does anybody ever win in war?"
Izlude, recalling that Doug and his neighbors had built this small hamlet with their bare hands after their former homes had been consumed by the fires of war, lowered his head shamefacedly.
"Forgive me, I chose my words poorly."
"Yes, but you ask a fair question. Frankly, I don't believe either side truly won. But, if you're asking if it's Larg or Goltana who acts as regent of the throne, then the answer is neither. Both of them were killed during the battle of Fort Besselat."
"What? But, how?" he asked, though he already suspected the hand of the High Confessor at work.
"Larg was killed by a Nanten assassin who had infiltrated his personal guard. Goltana met his end by the hands of Count Orlandu. Thunder God Cid had been relieved of command when evidence was found linking him to a plot hatched between Larg and certain officials of the church who were seeking to advance Prince Orinas' claim to the throne. The count was imprisoned in Besselat, but, just after the sluice was opened, he broke free. He confronted Goltana and the pair died on one another's swords."
"But if Larg, Goltana, and Ruvelia are all dead, who rules Ivalice now? Prince Orinas is far too young."
"Unfortunately, the young prince is nowhere to be found. He has not been seen since the flooding of Fort Bessalet, and is presumed dead."
"Then, who sits on the throne now?"
"Believe it or not, the new king is former Blackram lieutenant, Delita Hyral."
For a long moment, Izlude stared at Doug in disbelief, his mind unable to take in what he had just heard. Delita? Delita Hyral now sat upon the throne? To Izlude's knowledge, the man wasn't of royal or even noble birth. How could he have managed even to secure a place amongst the contenders for the throne, let alone claim the prize? The knight blade was about to voice these questions when he suddenly remembered the conversation between Ramza and Agrias back at Riovanes, which he'd overheard while hiding in Barrington's meeting room. He also recalled Rafa's comment about the black knight and the princess never being seen far from one another, and it didn't take long for him to make the connection.
Delita, Izlude recalled, was a very cunning man, a Machiavellian of the highest order, able to entice friend and foe alike into dancing in the palm of his hand.
Apparently, Izlude had grossly underestimated just how clever Delita was, if the Blackram lieutenant could win a crown by winning the heart of the princess.
Doug seemed to have sensed his train of thought. "Yes, it's true. Hyral became king after rescuing Princess Ovelia and finally ending the War of the Lions for good and all. Though he may be common born, he is highly revered by the people as the savior of Ivalice."
Knowing that the old farmer had no reason to lie, Izlude easily surmised that Doug didn't know the truth about just what lay beneath the new king's angelic image. However, Izlude thought it best to hold his tongue. If this surprising development had, indeed, ended the War of the Lions, then Izlude found himself reluctant to risk that terrible conflict starting back up again by exposing the new king's facade.
After all, even if Izlude shared his insights into Delita's true character, who would believe him?
"Ah, but here I am fawning over him like some country maiden when you must want to know the how of it," Doug spoke up, shaking Izlude back to attention. "After the deaths of Goltana and Orlandu, Delita rose to command the Black Lion faction. By then, Larg and his closest advisors were dead and the Hokuten were spent. Between that, and with Ruvelia and Orinas missing, Delita was able to persuade the White Lion to surrender, promising clemency to his former enemies if they pledged their fealty to him and his queen. Almost immediately thereafter, High Confessor Ryker recognized Delita's claim to the throne and vowed to support his efforts to rebuild Ivalice."
"Wait, High Confessor Ryker?" Izlude asked, puzzled, for he remembered Ryker as being only a decidedly unexceptional cardinal of the church.
"He was named High Confessor after the death of his predecessor. No one is really certain how this was accomplished, but an armed party infiltrated the great church in Murond and assassinated the late High Confessor."
Being only too aware of the avarice that lurked beneath the late High Confessor's protestations of piety, Izlude offered only a solemn nod in reply. As was often the case on this most mystifying of days, this revelation created more questions than it answered. Had the High Confessor been privy to the depravations of the Lucavi? It was doubtful that a Lucavi demon would accept such a frail old man as a host, even if his voice was a potent tool. That argued against Ramza and company killing him to reclaim a holy stone, but it was still possible that the young Beoulve did have a hand in the old man's death, and Izlude suspected that the church would claim so in any event.
And, with the High Confessor dead and his office now held by someone far more malleable, the knight blade found himself suspecting that Delita would not be playing the role of puppet monarch.
Upon reflection, Izlude had to admit that he was impressed by Delita's accomplishments, despite the treachery, lies, and bloodshed that he'd used to weave it all together.
He'd been reared as a pawn of the nobility, being born to a humble family of serfs, and then he'd seemingly traded one master for another by joining in the church's plot to seize the reins of Ivalice.
Now, however, he had well and truly turned the tables.
The nobles who'd once ruled over him were either dead or were groveling before him, while the church that sought to make him their puppet king now found that the strings had been cut and their puppet now danced freely.
Delita was unopposed by church and state alike.
But, did the same hold true for demonkind?
Izlude did not know, but he recalled that he had his own problems. Whoever now sat upon Ivalice's throne, it did not change the fact that he had to save Alma. He'd been about to rise again, feeling marginally steadier on his feet, but an admonishing look from Doug brought him up short.
"I see. Well, that's quite a lot to take in. But, if what you say is true, and there is no battle for me to return to, I must find some other line of work. I sense that my services as a knight may no longer be required."
"Trust me, son, you aren't the only one," Doug intoned kindly. "Now that the war is over, many knights and soldiers have chosen to set aside their blades and take up more peaceful work. Many cities and towns that have been ravaged by the war, particularly those on the front lines, so there's great demand for builders, masons, and anyone with a strong back who's after an honest day's wages. Given the demand for such labor, I imagine that would probably be your best bet."
Izlude nodded and, seeing that Doug wasn't making any objections, gingerly tested his footing. Once he saw that his legs would support him, he carefully rose. The room spun for a moment, but soon the floor and ceiling swung back into place and, after a few experimental steps, the knight blade let out a sigh of relief.
"I may just take your advice," he said, turning to Doug and offering his hand. "I should be on my way soon, I've already burdened you enough. I don't have much money left on me, but I still wish to repay you for your kindness."
Doug shook the proffered hand, but waved away Izlude's words. "It's alright, Sir Damien. You may be back on your feet, barely, but I can tell that you have not yet completely recovered. Besides, there is no need to hurry. It'll probably be quite some time before Ivalice is back on her feet and, until then, I doubt you'll have trouble finding work in mending this realm's wounds."
Here, Doug paused and a sad smile crossed his face.
"And, in truth, I would like you to stay at least a little longer. My children has long since left home, and it's just my wife and I here. We have only a few strangers here with us, and the days are too long and quiet. If you would be so good to provide us with your company for just a few more days, I'll consider this debt you so insist that you owe me to be paid in full." The old farmer smiled as he said this, his age and hardship showing and yet outshone by how grateful he was that he and his loved ones had weathered the storm. And, Izlude could not keep a smile from tugging at the corners of his own mouth as well. For the moment, he was able to forget his troubles and silently revel in simply being alive. Once again, death had seized him with its clammy fist, and once again he had had the good fortune to slip free. And, as if that wasn't enough, he still had his faithful mount who had brought him to this place of safety and had discovered people kind enough to nurse him back to health.
He felt, for the first time in the long time, that Ivalice's long night was giving way to dawn.
What's more, he felt a renewed sense of hope that he would some way, somehow, find his beloved Alma again…
SSSSSS
For the next three days and nights, Izlude remained with Doug and his wife. Since it was just the three of them, there was never any shortage of work needing to be done into order to keep the modest farm afloat. Izlude spent much of the day helping around the old man's barn and assisting his wife with some housework. As a knight and a former nobleman, he was not used to performing such menial labor, but he considered it a small price to pay after everything the old farmer had done for him. At first, his host took care not to work him too hard, but both men were amazed at how Izlude seemed to grow stronger with each passing hour. His caretaker also took note of the knght blade's jet black hair and steel-grey eyes which was very rare among native Ivalicians.
Whenever Doug mentioned this, Izlude could not prevent his hand from straying to the pocket where the holy stone yet lay hidden.
As the sun vanished into the western sea, work in the barn would cease and Izlude would help Doug's wife, Helen, to cook dinner and, afterward, shared the evening meal with the elderly couple. The two spun quite a yarn about their children, all of whom had thankfully survived the war, and Izlude found himself getting quite absorbed in their stories. Doug and Helen had not had an easy life, before becoming parents or after, and some of the antics of their children had left him agape. Yet, for all that, there was no mistaking how greatly the elderly couple's happy memories outweighed the bad, or how their faces lit up at the prospect of their children returning to them with little ones of their own in tow.
That train of thought called to mind the knight blade's own dreams of reuniting with Alma, marrying her as he had promised, and starting a family.
That dream seemed close now, with the war over, and all the sweeter after hearing such tales as Doug and Helen told of rearing their own children.
Still, Izlude knew he would need some direction in order to make those dreams a reality. So, after pursuing the subject of Doug and Helen's children for a polite length of time, he asked them about what else had happened during his two and a half month coma. In addition to the deaths of the dukes, the queen, and the High Confessor, the elderly couple revealed that many other high ranking officials of church and state alike had also been killed or gone missing during the war. Izlude learned, with little interest or pity, that Celebrant Bremondt, the odious man who had briefly ruled Lionel after Cardinal Draclau's death, had been slain, along with Aliste who was the recently appointed commander of Lionel's Gryphon Knights. Since both funerals had been open to the public, as had the High Confessor's, it stood to reason that none had been Lucavi, even though the Celebrant's casket had reportedly remained closed throughout the entire service. That hadn't come as much of a surprise, however. Though Izlude knew Bremondt only by reputation, the late Celebrant had a reputation as being a self-centered, delusional coward who hid behind a cadre of hired blades.
Unbecoming the sentiment might be, but Izlude suspected that, whatever bastion of worship emerged in Ivalice following the War of the Lions, it would be better off without such men to despoil it.
A number of Pro-Orinas nobles had also been killed or exiled, their estates and possessions passing into the hands of Delita's supporters. Most of these were commoners that had been granted peerage and, like the new king himself, been remade to stand atop the hierarchy of society where once they'd been beneath notice. Very little of this was helpful to Izlude, until the elderly couple mentioned the apparent demise of the Beoulve family.
Hearing this, Izlude felt the blood drain out of his face.
Could Ramza, Alma, and their friends have met their end while he'd wandered the limbo between life and death?
At first, he adamantly refused to believe it. After all, if they were dead, then why wasn't Ivalice firmly in the sulfur smelling claws of the Lucavi? And yet, if Alma had been corrupted by demonkind, as his dream had suggested, then what other fate could have befallen her other than some horrific reenactment of Ramza's blade piercing her breast?
In fact, if Vormav's tortured soul was anything to go by, death might be a kindness by comparison.
He shook off the thought, so violently, that his hosts regarded him with concerned bemusement. Thinking quickly, Izlude let a note of grief seep into his tone.
"Forgive my outburst. My father served with the great Balbanes Beoulve during the Fifty Years War and enraptured me with tales of his heroism. It...it is, indeed, a tragedy that his progeny should meet such a fate."
The ease with which he feigned this grief, and that it didn't feel feigned at all, bothered him. And, he wondered if that might hold some dread portent.
"Indeed, it is," Helen said sadly as she ladled some beef stew in Izlude's bowl. "News is a bit scarce out here, but we'd heard that, in the weeks following the dukes' deaths, Lords Dycedarg and Zalbag Beoulve also met tragic ends."
"Do you know any specifics?" Izlude asked, despite his fear.
"Not many, I'm afraid," Doug replied. "Lord Dycedarg appointed himself guardian of Prince Orinas after Duke Larg's death, that's no secret. The late High Confessor sent a representative from the Knights Templar to persuade him to accept a truce which the church was brokering to both sides, but to no avail.
No doubt trying to salvage their original plan to craft a puppet monarchy. Izlude mused silently, but he shook himself back to attention as Doug continued.
"But, barely a week later, we heard rumors that Ramza, the youngest Beoulve, broke into Igros Castle and killed Dycedarg. There were witnesses from amongst Igros' castle guard."
That Ramza would be painted as the culprit hardly surprised Izlude. After all, who better to be cast in the role of villain than a man who'd earned the ire of every corrupt power broker from Igros to Limberry? No doubt those "witnesses" had received a generous payment for their testimony.
"The strange thing is that these same witnesses claim that Ramza and Lord Zalbag were fighting together against Lord Dycedarg."
That, Izlude was certain, could not have been in the High Confessor's script.
"But, why?" he asked, hardly needing to feign confusion. "Why would Lord Zalbag fight alongside a heretic against the head of his house?"
"The witnesses spun a confusing tale," Doug admitted. "They claim that the elder brothers were fighting before Ramza even arrived, that they'd heard an argument through the door. Lord Zalbag accused Lord Dycedarg of killing their father, though Lord Dycedarg insisted to the guards that it was some madness talking."
Madness it might have seemed, but Izlude could see the method in it. If Dycedarg had, in fact, been responsible for Balbanes Beoulve's death, and Zalbag somehow discovered it, then it would explain why the estranged siblings did battle and why Zalbag would abide a so-called heretic fighting at his shoulder.
"And, what of Lord Zalbag?" he asked. "How did he die?"
"Yet another mystery," Doug went on. "No one saw him leave Igros after Lord Dycedarg's death, even though the city around the castle is guarded at all hours. And yet, his body was found in Murond days later, right around the same time of the High Confessor's death. The church is reportedly handling the investigations, but who knows if they'll find anything with all this upheaval. What bothers me is that the funerals of the elder Beoulves were not open to the public."
Remembering that the same had held true with Cardinal Draclau, and the most likely reason why, Izlude needed little time to guess the truth. What evidence there was to hand suggested that Dycedarg must've been involved in the Lucavi's schemes as well. Given that Izlude knew from his vision in the realm of the dead that many Templars had been turned to the ways of demonkind, that "representative" might very well have offered Dycedarg a place amongst the demonic ranks. How Zalbag had fit into the scheme was less clear, however. Mulling the question over, Izlude found himself wondering if Zalbag might've joined his younger brother after Dycedarg's death, and that Ramza had stormed Murond in an attempt to rescue his sister, as the young Beoulve had mentioned back in Riovanes. Perhaps Zalbag had died in the assault, and the church had been too stunned by the death of the High Confessor to craft a more plausible cover story? Whatever the reason, it was clear that those elements of the church which were in league with demonkind hadn't wanted their scheme uncovered by some observant mourner.
And, if this likely demon, or demons, had been vanquished at the hands of Ramza and his companions, it had surely heightened the young Beoulve's infamy amongst the true architects of the War of the Lions.
"What of their younger siblings, Ramza and Alma?" he asked, fearful though he was of the answer.
"A lot of people claimed to have seen Ramza since he was declared a heretic, such as those rumors of what happened at Igros," Doug answered, his derisive snort suggesting he did not credit these supposed witnesses. "As for Alma, however, she hasn't been seen since she left Lesalia months ago. There was talk that she had been to Orbonne and then taken to Riovanes Castle by the Knights Templar, for questioning into the matter of Ramza's heresy. But then, she disappeared, her body was never found, and those few who survived the massacre were too unhinged to testify as to her whereabouts."
Inwardly seething with frustration at this latest setback, Izlude listened with half an ear as Helen went on to explain that, with the elder siblings dead and the younger Beoulves missing and presumed dead, the now deserted Igros Castle and the family's wealth had become property of the crown. Izlude wondered what Alma would have made of this news, that the home she'd known all her life was hers no longer, that her elder brothers were dead, and that her childhood friend had wed the princess...
...and, for that matter, whether she even cared.
After all, a demon would have little interest in wealth or family...and the same held true of a corpse.
He shook off the notion, more surreptitiously this time, and silently affirmed over and over again that Ramza and Alma had to still be alive. Interestingly, just as he'd managed to convince himself, he felt a strange warmth radiating from his pocket. It suffused the flesh of his leg, travelling up into his breast until it crested in his heart.
It summoned to mind his mother, faint though his recollections of her were, when she'd given him a hug and assured him that, as bad as things were, the next day would prove better.
Could the stone share his conviction? Or, for that matter, could it know that Alma yet lived?
He didn't know, and he was at a loss as to how one might interrogate a holy stone. Nonetheless, he decided to continue asking about any other unusual events that had occurred during his coma, hoping for some clue by which to resume his mission.
"Well, now that you mention it," Doug began, stroking his chin meditatively, "I heard that there was a mysterious explosion at Orbonne Monastery not long ago. The cause is unknown, but some say they spied a small group of people emerge from the ruins. No one seems to know who they were or why there were there, but they disappeared shortly after."
Upon hearing this, the knight blade's heart, briefly lightened by the stone's seeming affirmation that Alma yet lived, sank into his boots. After all the trouble he'd gone to in secretly trailing Ramza and his companions for nearly two weeks in hopes that they will lead him to Alma, Izlude found, much to his dismay, that he was right back where he'd started. Worse, in fact. When he'd first begun his search, he'd at least had the knowledge that Ramza would pursue the captured Alma to Orbonne. But, with the fated confrontation having apparently come and gone, he now had no idea where to seek his lost love.
But, just as the knight blade found himself ready to give up, the stone made its hidden presence known once again.
This time, he felt a cool, almost admonishing energy radiating from it. It evoked a memory of his father, back when his soul had been his own, during one of his sterner moments. The image of his father's face, drawn in an expression of restrained ire, painted itself over Izlude's eyes and he could swear that he heard his father telling him to pull himself together and that no knight ever won a battle by turning his back to the challenge.
Once again, Izlude wondered at the stone's behavior...and what it might mean for his quest.
"I see…anything else I should know before I head back out into the world?" he asked, wondering if the stone might react if pertinent information was spoken in its presence.
"Well, the only thing more I can tell you is that King Delita has appointed two relatives of his as the new Duke and Duchess of Lionel," Helen answered. "Since that province has lost two lords in as many years, I doubt there were many other candidates."
Even before the stone began to quiver against his thigh, that tidbit piqued Izlude's interest. "Relatives of the king, you say? What are their names?" he asked, certain he'd struck on something.
"Drake Seymour and his younger sister, Catherine, both cousins of the king."
Judging by the stone's now frantic gyrations, this was no coincidence. Izlude may not have known Delita particularly well, but he did remember the former Blackram Knight mentioning that he had no living relatives. His parents had died of plague, and his only sister was killed in a tragic accident not long after. These 'cousins' of the king were, likely, nothing of the sort.
As Izlude pondered who these "cousins" might be, and the holy stone's insistent thrumming threatened to tear open his pocket, he felt more and more certain that there was some connection between the king's supposed relatives and the missing Beoulves...
...or, perhaps it was even simpler than that?
Ramza's actions throughout the war had done much to advance Delita's agenda, however unwittingly. What's more, Ramza had admitted that Delita had passed up many opportunities to kill the young Beoulve, despite seemingly compelling motives. More curious still, Izlude recalled that Delita had fought alongside Ramza against Zalmo, even though he risked his hidden agenda in doing so.
Delita had, Izlude suspected, rewarded those who previously trusted him with a dagger in the back. But, what if he'd chosen to honor Ramza's contribution, and their old friendship, differently?
Could the new duke and duchess of Lionel be the younger Beoulve siblings, living under false identities as Izlude himself was? Could Delita have repaid their contribution to his new life by giving them new lives in turn, where they might be safe from any lingering foes? The stone fell silent as he completed the thought, but not without releasing a surge of warmth which carried an almost congratulatory air.
As he dipped his bread in his stew, Izlude asked as casually as he could "This new duke and duchess, what are they like?"
"I've never seen either of them," Doug admitted. "But, from what I've heard, the Seymours are redheads with sky blue eyes. They are very close in age, and quite young too. Duke Drake is said to have been a mercenary who fought at King Delita's side. He certainly has the build of a fighter, but I've heard some ladies say that he has quite the baby face. His sister, Duchess Catherine, is said to be a ravishing beauty skilled in the healing arts. There are rumors that she was briefly engaged to a knight - a Templar, no less - but that he died in the war."
Izlude had been taking a sip from his ale as he listened to Doug, but nearly choked on the liquid when he'd heard that last sentence.
Engaged to a Templar? One who had died in the war? Even without the holy stone humming in his pocket, there was no mistaking where this trail of clues was leading.
The Seymours could only be Ramza and Alma Beoulve.
At this revelation, his heavy heart seemed to grow wings and fly free, dancing upon the air as the winds of a brighter future bore it ever heavenward. But, having already tipped his hand once, he bent all of his will to letting nothing more than an expression of curiosity cross his features
"I see… I'm curious, about this new duchess," he said, all too conscious of the depths of his understatement. "Perhaps she might have use of my blade. You say they both reside at Lionel?"
"At the moment. They just moved into the castle recently and haven't been out much. However, we've heard tell that both of them will soon be summoned to the capital by orders of the king. By the sounds of it, their cousin wishes to formally introduce them to the royal court as well as the Ivalician citizenry. If you are interested in presenting yourself to them, I recommend you head to the Lesalia in about a month," Helen suggested, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Though, if you do enter their service, I suspect most of your time will be spent beating back eager young suitors."
After everything Izlude had been through since his father's fateful summons, including his brief sojourn in the realm of the dead, shielding Alma from unwanted male attention sounded blissful by comparison
"Madam, I look forward to it."
SSSSSS
That night, after Izlude had left the table and sought his bed, he could not help but marvel at the incredible stroke of luck he'd just had. His benefactors, in addition to nursing him back to health, had unwittingly told him where to find Ramza and Alma. Where once he'd feared his quest had failed, that his miraculous resurrection had gone to waste, he now had a clearer trail than when he'd first set out to find his lost love. Even better, his adopted identity gave him an excellent cover story by which to get close to Alma. As a newly titled noblewoman, there would be no shortage of men looking to earn their bread by safeguarding her from ne'er-do-wells.
Still, despite this fortuitous turn, there was still much to do before he could seek out Alma.
According to the Fredericks, 'Catherine Seymour' was still single and would be introduced to marriageable men through a ball the newly crowned royal couple plan to hold in a month's time. Izlude could not help feeling a turning in his stomach at that particular tidbit, however. What if Alma accepted one such suitor and he arrived to find her already another man's wife? It was possible, given that she had ample reason to believe that the knight blade was dead, and this dire prospect was enough to cause him a sleepless night.
Restless, but refusing to let despair find purchase in his mind, he resolved to spend the night planning his next move. As his hosts had suggested, he would make for the royal capital where the new duke and duchess will make their entrance into Ivalician society. In the meantime, he would need money and new clothes, as his second brush with death had left him rather impoverished and less-than-presentable. He would need funds, which meant he would need to find some work along the way to Lesalia. Since the road between Limberry and the capital crossed Dorter and Goland, both of which were places that would likely pay good coin for a strong pair of hands, he would start by traveling towards the two towns and seeing if either offered likely prospects. Once he had enough gil to afford presentable attire, he would present himself to the Duchess Seymour.
Hopefully, the stone would choose that moment to undo its alterations to his face and voice, allowing them to be reunited for good and all.
The knight blade also had hopes of seeing his elder sister again. Having seen her accompanying Ramza in the vision he'd had during his brief time in the realm of the dead, he suspected that she would not be too far from the Beoulve siblings, especially if Alma had indeed given Meliadoul his letter. Assuming that reality played out much like the vision implied, and the evidence of a titanic confrontation at Orbonne suggested it had, he might very well have the chance to explain himself to his sister. More importantly, he hoped his return might help to revive at least a little of the sister he had known and loved. He still remembered her feral expression and livid screaming when she'd practically hurled herself on Ramza's blade at Bervenia and the blank lusterless expression on the image of her from his vision.
Whether his return might banish that anger and sadness and help her to heal, he did not know. For now, Izlude decided that he would cross that bridge when he came to it.
SSSSSS
At some point while he'd been drawing up a rough timetable for his job hunting, Izlude had finally succumbed to the late hour and dozed off. He was roused, however, when a familiar wark echoed through his window. Realizing he'd slept past the planned hour of his departure, he vaulted out of bed and snatched up his pack. He charged down the stairs, only to be barred by a smiling Helen.
"Surely you didn't think we'd send you off so unceremoniously?" she asked rhetorically, gesturing to the table behind her.
Upon the table was what must've been half the old couple's larder. Pork, bacon, beef, eggs, fish, an assortment of fresh vegetables, and pitchers of milk. The sight of it caused the knight blade's stomach to rumble and, though he knew time was pressing upon him, he relented to this final act of hospitality.
After all, there was no telling when, or if, he would ever see his benefactors again.
Seating himself at the table, he offered a hurried prayer of thanksgiving and then filled his plate. Doug came in just before Izlude had managed to get the first forkful past his lips, saying that he had loaded Nelly's saddlebags with such travel rations as dried meat and smoked fish, as well as several filled waterskins. Izlude, somehow forcing his fork away from his mouth long enough to offer his thanks to the old farmer, wasn't surprised when he saw Doug wave away his words.
"Think nothing of it, young man," he insisted.
"Still, I do wish I had some way to pay you back," Izlude admitted, suddenly conscious of just how light his purse was.
"The help you've been around the farm was more than enough," Helen answered sweetly. "Besides, having a strapping young man around the house brought back memories of the old days."
Helen was, no doubt, referring to her sons, and Izlude could not help but blush at the implication. At Helen's insistence, however, he turned his attention back to his meal. With his departure drawing near, excitement was soon threatening to crowd out his appetite, but he nonetheless forced himself to finish his meal. In between mouthfuls, he conferred with Doug and Helen about his hastily drawn plans. Offering the cover story that he'd need to look less like a ragamuffin in order to have a chance at entering the duchess' service, he voiced the notion of working in Dorter or Goland long enough to earn the money for making himself more presentable and to cover other expenses.
Doug gave a nod of approval and, in replying, he gave the former knight blade one final gift.
"You might also consider some, shall we say, treasure hunting," he suggested. "You might not know this, but, during the war, Dorter and Goland became nests of crime. Vice, trafficking, opiates, thievery, usurary, smuggling, you name it. Most of these crime rings have gone silent or been broken up, but very little of their loot has been found."
Here, he paused and leaned in close to Izlude, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
"The maze of sewers and coal shafts beneath those two towns would be a likely place to look. And, if you did find some of that loot, you might very well be able to retire."
Or offer a proper dowry to "Duchess Seymour", Izlude mused, the notion already taking root in his mind.
He had already decided that he wouldn't turn away from a stint mining coal if it would help him reunite with Alma. If he discovered a small trove of forgotten treasure in those soot stained tunnels, so much the better.
And, even if he didn't, it would not stop him. Whether by the sweat of his brow or the luck of the devil, he would find his love again and they would have the life he'd promised her.
Finishing his meal, and finding himself regretting the rapidity with which he had done so, he took his leave of the table and headed for the stables. He had little need to seek out Nelly, for she let out a wark of joy and poked her beaked head out of her stall the moment he drew near. Izlude, surprised but relieved at such a greeting when his work in his hosts' home kept him too busy to visit her, gratefully stoked his faithful mount's bill. Seeing that Nelly was still in superb health, just as Doug had promised, he was once more struck by his good fortune in being rescued by the elderly couple. His hosts had truly been generous beyond words. Not only had they rescued and cared for him, as well as Nelly, for over two months during his coma, they had also given him provisions for his journey without accepting any payment.
Impoverished these souls might have been, but their kindness shone brighter than any jewels or gold that might be found within the folds of the earth.
Much though Izlude wished he could offer more than words of gratitude, he knew he could not delay much longer. He opened the stall door and strapped on Nelly's saddle, the saddlebags bulging with provisions that would keep well on the long road ahead. Nelly, who was too capricious to stand being cooped up, was only too happy to be embarking on another journey with her master.
Before he set off, Izlude sought out both Doug and Helen and gave each of his benefactors a hug. "Thank you so much for everything you've done for me. I will never forget it. And, once I have found a trade to earn my bread, I will come back to visit and repay you properly."
Doug smiled and characteristically waved away the knight blade's words. "Think nothing of it, son. We were happy to have you with us, however briefly. Good luck on your journey, and may the Lord be with you."
"You too, my friends. Goodbye…"
With that, Izlude swung into the saddle, snapped the reins and rode off, once more seeking his lost love amidst the changed world that was Ivalice.
Changed it might have been, but perhaps it was still a place where his dreams, of a peaceful life with Alma at his side and of the joys of rearing a family, might yet come true.
A/N: Ok, we will end this chapter here. Once again, I'd like to thank my co-writer and editor, Falchion1984 for his help in keeping this story going and we'd like to thank all our readers and followers too Please review and tell us what you think and suggestions are always welcomed. ;)