Finding My Way Back To You

by ShanoaWarrior

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

8. Veils of Secrecy

A/N: Ok, we're back. Before we get back to our dashing knight blade's journey, we want to spend a little more time with Ramza and company and life at their new home. Once again, I'd like to thank my co-writer and editor Falchion1984 for his help in writing this fic. Please enjoy and review! ;)

Chapter 8: Veils of Secrecy

"You are...certain of this, Ramza?" Beowulf asked, his tone grave.

"I'm afraid so," Ramza confirmed, sounding somewhat winded after frantically counting the stones for what felt like the thousandth time.

The two men were seated in the dining hall of Lionel Castle, at one end of the expansive table which, owing to the mass of cobwebs blotting out the light from the nearest window, was shrouded in darkness. Much like the rest of the foreboding fortress which the small band of fugitives now called home, the dining hall was decidedly understated...

...at least, that was how a charitable person would describe it. Anyone else would call it gloomy and dismal.

Since Draclau was both a soldier and a clergyman, it was hardly surprising that the room where he took his meals had none of the gilded adornments or lavish decorations that were so plentiful in the homes of Ivalice's other power brokers. Most of those, knowing that an ostentatious dining hall was as potent a way to showcase their wealth and status as a table laden with fine food and wine, would have such extravagances as golden candelabras, silken tapestries, marble statuary, plush carpeting, and all manner of profligacy.

Ramza had never enjoyed such tableaus of unrestrained avarice, but Draclau's ruthlessly austere tastes weren't much of an improvement.

There was a long oak table, of distinctly unremarkable craftsmanship, that would seat a modest twenty people. Judging by the deep indentations in the faded and threadbare carpet beneath, it had been rare for the hall to see even that many guests. The chairs, none of which were upholstered, were hard and uncomfortable, and the wood was splintering in places due to the neglect the castle had suffered...or the Murry twins' overzealous polishing; there was some disagreement on that point.

The rest of the room did little to counterbalance the homely furnishings. Whereas it was not uncommon for the walls of such halls to be as crowded with tapestries as to dizzy a visitor, there had been little to either disrupt the monotony of the bare mortared stone or to alleviate the chill of the cold rock. Only a handful of tapestries had adorned the walls, but an infestation of moths had gotten to them prior to the arrival of Ramza and his friends. What was left of these neither insulated nor brightened the room, especially since all had been depictions of the supposed life of Saint Ajora. Such scenes from the false legend which had been on display included the infant Ajora, standing despite being but heartbeats old, before a well, from which wafted a noxious plume of green smoke. Those woven people who stood around the infant gasped in amazement or had prostrated themselves in humble worship while, further away, a huddle of people, each with a ladle of the well's tainted water in hand, had been gasping their last. And, as if that wasn't enough, there had been another tapestry depicting Ajora's execution, the artist having been quite overzealous in portraying the grisly scene in truly nauseating detail.

Needless to say, Lionel Castle's new tenets were not eager to have that particular "art" leering down at them through every meal.

Removing the tapestries, however, had caused the already persistent chill in the room to deepen, the drafts of cold air now becoming icy tendrils that brushed against the skin like malicious probing fingers. This made the cavernous but nearly empty hall seem all the drearier, and the almost funereal silence had a strange way of discouraging speech and laughter and any other sound of life...

...which, coupled with half the room seeming pitch dark, made it perfect for this clandestine meeting.

When Beowulf and Reis had arrived at the castle, after using some clever tactics to ensure that no one in the nearby city realized either their identities or destination, the young Beoulve had surreptitiously informed the former Templar that they needed to speak privately.

Being no stranger to either battle or intrigue, Beowulf had quickly gleaned that, whatever Ramza needed to speak to him about, the young Beoulve considered it to be of the gravest urgency.

Upon reaching this shadowy corner of the dining hall, Beowulf understood why.

Scattered before them on the expansive dining table, the true cause of the War of the Lions rested with seemingly innocuousness upon the freshly polished wood.

12 crystals, each of varying colors and cut in exotic styles, and each emblazoned with the faintly glowing sign of a house of the evening sky.

12 crystals that had driven once pious men mad with greed and hatred, and which evicted their very souls in favor of Lucavi demons; but which had also breathed life back into the dead, revived wondrous machinery which had laid dormant for centuries, and had undone the curse that transformed Reis into a dragon.

The holy stones. The twelve holy stones...

...and one was missing.

Following the defeat of Velias, as Ramza and his group continued their search for Alma and Vormav, they'd begun to hear troubling rumors from the various taverns where they sought sustenance and rest after hard days of travel. Apart from the rumors of Lionel's new liege lord, which had led to Reis's abduction and the battle against Celebrant Bremondt, there were also tales of monsters haunting the mines of Gollund, a mysterious vigilante targeting the Church of Glabados's wealth, Hokuten deserters turning to banditry, and a fearsome "iron sentinel" which guarded long lost secrets on the cursed isle of Nelveska. More on an impulse than anything else, Ramza had chosen to begin by investigating the rumors in Gollund and, much to his surprise, he came away from this little detour with a former Templar and a holy dragon in tow...

...not to mention a holy stone that had gone unfound by his band, Vormav's cohorts, and curious explorers all.

After that, and despite his near constant fear for the still-captive Alma as well as the complications of Agrias's advancing pregnancy, he had chased down these rumors with great fervor. And, in so doing, he had discovered the holy stones bearing the signs of Aquarius, Cancer, and, much to his surprise, Serpentarius, a thirteenth stone that had gone unmentioned in either the now questionable account of Ajora Glabados's life or the Germonique Scriptures.

Yet, when Ramza had compared the signs of the stones reportedly carried by Saint Ajora and the Zodiac Braves to the signs of the stones he'd recovered, he'd realized that one was missing from the set.

One holy stone, which could undo death and summon forth demonkind into the world, was unaccounted for.

"I can see why you needed to speak with me so urgently," Beowulf whispered, conscious that Agrias, Alma, Reis, and the twins were close by preparing dinner for the small group while Rad, judging by the commotion in the kitchen, was up to his usual tricks.

"Hands off the leg, you rogue!", Alicia or Lavian (Ramza couldn't tell which) chastised the dark knight.

Ordinarily, the young Beoulve would've gone in and tried to set Rad straight, but he decided to let these latest shenanigans slide. In fact, Ramza had been almost grateful for the dark knight unwittingly preventing his fellow outcasts from hearing this furtive discussion. Though he didn't doubt for a minute that they'd want to help, Agrias had Rachel to worry about and Alma was surely no less encumbered by her own child, still taking shape in her womb, and the ever present pain of having lost her baby's father to Hashmalum's claws. He was also hesitant to ask Rad, Lavian, and Alicia for help, since involving them in this matter would likely mean leaving his family unguarded when the time came to search for the errant holy stone.

And, of course, the twins would never keep a secret from Agrias.

That notion almost brought a smile to the young Beoulve's face, striking a contrast with the evidence of too many sleepless nights which marred his still youthful features. Before Agrias's pregnancy, the young Beoulve and the holy knight often fought shoulder to shoulder in their battles against the worst of mankind and demonkind. The seasoned holy knight had been nonplussed at first by the impulsive Beoulve, and Ramza vividly remembered how she'd lambasted him for charging to Mustadio's rescue when, as sometimes happened, Ramza's dearly held instincts to defend the helpless goaded him into running headlong into terrain which favored the enemy. Over time, however, as the tension between the two had eased, fighting together had become common practice with the pair and, later, had gone from an arrangement that Agrias barely tolerated to one she approved of.

When Ramza had left Agrias and Ovelia behind at Lionel Castle to rescue Mustadio's father, Agrias had said she believed Ramza might have potential as a knight of the Lionsguard and that she planned to give him a recommendation...

...and, not for the first time, Ramza blushed as he recalled what she'd given him instead.

Still, he shook himself back to attention, grimly contemplating the errant holy stone. Having seen what they could do, for both good and evil, the prospect of what might happen if the stray holy stone found its way into the wrong hands weighed heavily upon him. He had to do something to prevent such a disaster, especially since the War of the Lions had left Ivalice in so fragile a state.

What that something might be, however, proved elusive.

His new identity and the pardons for his other companions were still being crafted and, without them, Ramza could not even venture outside the castle by daylight without creating a panic...and a renewed interest in his demise amongst his remaining enemies. At the same time, however, he was reluctant to risk the lives of his companions, especially when such a search might cause them to run afoul of a newly awakening Lucavi demon. Yet, in spite of that, Ramza knew he could not ignore a holy stone which might even now be seeking a host for the demon within.

The young Beoulve suspected there might be an alternative, some solution he had overlooked, and yet he could not find it.

Having gone for weeks on end with only a modicum of sleep, coupled with the combined anxieties of his unexpected fatherhood, worry for his emotionally scarred sister and her child, and the always looming prospect that Delita's offer might prove less-than-genuine, the young Beoulve was utterly exhausted. Not just weary to his very bones, but his thoughts seemed to vanish into a fog bank whenever he contemplated where the missing stone might be and how to find it.

Above all, however, his heavy heart recoiled at the notion of seeing still more bloodshed after watching the atrocity that was the War of the Lions.

Finding his own wits askew, he had waited for Beowulf to arrive so that he might seek the former Templar's counsel.

As he studied Beowulf's features, however, Ramza found himself second guessing his decision.

The former Templar spent a long moment regarding the holy stones, his brow furrowed in deep, grim contemplation. Unsurprisingly, his gaze lingered pointedly on the Cancer stone, which he'd used to lift the curse on Reis and return her to her true form. This gesture served to drive home just how little time Beowulf and Reis had had for their love since Bremondt's jealousy had driven the delusional celebrant to act against the couple. Beowulf seemed to catch his train of thought, for he shook his head and waved away the words Ramza had been about to speak.

"You were right to bring this to my attention, Ramza," he assured. "And, if you will pardon my brusqueness, let us dispense with the words which are undoubtedly on your lips at this very moment. Even if you hadn't told me about the stray stone, Reis and I would have offered our services the moment we realized it was missing. As I have said before, Reis and I owe our happiness and our very lives to you, and we knew what we were getting into when we decided to repay that debt by joining your quest. So, let us discuss the matter at hand, shall we?"

Ramza, more than a bit surprised by the rejoinder, nodded his assent. Not for the first time, he found himself amazed at the depth of loyalty his companions had shown him, especially those who, like Beowulf and Reis, could have easily walked away from the supposed heretic and gone back to their old lives. Yet, in spite of that, each and all had stood by him right up until the final confrontation with Altima. Even those who had parted company with him after the explosive finale of their war with the Lucavi had only done so at Ramza's insistence, and, even then, they had made their departures with great reluctance.

The young Beoulve could not help but feel his heart glow. And, no less important, he found himself thinking that the former Templar might very well be able to help with this situation.

"Alright, then," he intoned simply. "But, I'd like this to stay between us for the time being. Agrias and Alma have enough on their minds as it is, and I don't like the idea of leaving them unguarded, which is likely if the others become involved."

"Even if that is so, it might not stop them from wanting to help," Beowulf pointed out. "I agree that Agrias and Alma had best stay here, but they might very well be able to mind your new home in our absence, even without Rad and the twins." Here, he paused for a moment, a sly grin crossing his features.

"In fact, I dare say they would insist upon it."

At these words, Ramza found a ghost of a smile tugging at his features as another memory came back to him. When he, Mustadio, Rad, and his former classmates from the Hokuten academy set out from Lionel to travel to Goug, Agrias had made a point of placing Lavian and Alicia under Ramza's command. At the time, this had been because she'd found it a little too convenient that Draclau had been so willing to protect them from the Hokuten and the Baert Trading Company, not to mention his possessing a holy stone and showing a little too much interest in Mustadio's tale of a second stone being discovered in Goug. Sensing that the cardinal's amicable words might conceal sinister motives, and that any threat to the then-Princess Ovelia would come from within the castle rather than from without, Agrias had insisted that the Murry twins would do the most good at Ramza's side.

Perhaps she would make that same assertion a second time?

The thought caused a hint of a nostalgic smile to tug at the corners of his mouth, not just at the memory but at the strange propensity his life had had of late to come full circle.

Meeting Delita again, and coming strangely close to renewing their old friendship, though both men had changed so much since their youth together. Returning to Lionel Castle, though as master rather than guest or invader, and now, possibly setting out again to perform a final service in defense of the people of Ivalice, who would consider his death a cause for celebration.

It struck a strange contrast, how his history seemed to repeat itself even as he himself changed...

...and, in more ways than one.

Ramza nodded, as much to his own thoughts as to Beowulf's statement, while his gaze drifted earthwards and he caught sight of his own reflection in the metal plate before him.

As sometimes happened nowadays, it took him a moment to realize that the face staring back at him was his own.

The young man in the reflective metal ran his hands through his newly dyed hair. Much like Alma, Ramza's distinctive flaxen tresses had been colored a deep red, lest the blonde locks that so characterized House Beoulve attract unwanted attention. Apart from the new color, he had also allowed his hair to grow out a bit. Rather than the short cropped, boyish locks, Ramza's hair was now long enough to brush the nape of his neck, though still not quite as long as he had worn it in his youth. The band of stubble on his upper lip hinted that he was also attempting to grow out a mustache to complete his disguise by the time he, Alma, and the others left for Lesalia to answer the new king's summons...

...at least, that was the reason Ramza would give when asked. The truth likely had more to do with the numerous times when, while visiting a tavern for sustenance and information, the barmaids would start pinching his cheeks and teasingly ask if he was old enough to enter such an establishment.

That recurring annoyance had been a veritable staple of Ramza's life following his less-than-auspicious graduation from the Hokuten academy, and one which his comrades never failed to find amusing.

The young Beoulve had always grumbled about the embarrassment caused by his inordinately youthful features. But, when Agrias, by then his lover, had jokingly referred to herself as a cradle-snatcher, Ramza had decided that enough was enough.

Lifting the plate and using it as an impromptu mirror, he gave his altered features a cursory examination. Thus far, his efforts to look less boyish hadn't satisfied him. He still had the rounded cheeks that the barmaids were so fond of pinching and, when measured against those, his burgeoning mustache looked more akin to the sort a stage actor would pluck out of a costume drawer to wear during a performance.

Yet, the eyes that stared back at him, despite their childish broadness, belied the illusion.

Eyes that had seen much of what depravities humans were capable of inflicting upon each other, even without demonkind pulling their strings, and which silently longed for the most innocent of the Beoulve line to grow up in a better world.

Grumbling sourly, he moved to set down the plate when a commotion from the kitchen nearly made him drop it.

"Away with you, away with you!" the voices of Lavian and Alicia clamored in unison, though their tones sounded less-than-remonstrative.

Predictably, a disheveled Rad was bodily shoved out of the kitchen, his face spattered with a mingling of reddish sauce and, what Ramza suspected, was a smattering of lip rouge.

"Let me guess," the young Beoulve began sourly, "You were looking for some action? Double or nothing?"

"And, I found it," Rad confirmed, approaching the seated pair with his customary swagger. "What else can I say? Its fun when people have to find...interesting ways to cover their bets."

Ramza let his face fall into his upturned hand, blowing out an aggravated breath between clenched teeth. Rad was a brave warrior and a good friend, but his proclivities had caused Ramza no end of aggravation.

And, the fact that Lavian and Alicia had no compunction against joining Rad in his disreputable games didn't help matters either.

The young Beoulve supposed he hardly had much cause to be critical, however. After all, a scoundrel Rad might be, but his mischief had produced no children born out of wedlock.

"Alright, let's hear it," Ramza grumbled, bracing himself for the inevitable.

"What else can I say?" Rad asked rhetorically, never one to miss such an opening. "The best way to catch a man's eye is with leg, breast, or rack. And, the twins' are exquisite!"

The young Beoulve, idly wondering if his late father had had moments like this, lowered his head to an empty section of table and began banging his already throbbing pate into the unyielding wood. Beowulf matched his disapproval, but without the melodramatics.

"Oh, don't do that!" Rad chastised, sounding somewhere near apologetic before his usual smirk reappeared. "Makes me feel almost as bad as when the girls accused me of peeping last night."

It is a mark of all good commanders to know that unwinnable battles are best retreated from, and therefore Ramza threw up his hands and worked valiantly to not hear Rad's talk about how he'd been a perfect gentleman when carousing with the twins and how he'd 'scored'.

"So, what's got you two huddled in the dark?" he finally asked, his tone suddenly turning serious as his gaze pointedly drifted towards the holy stones.

Shaken from his preoccupation with not being preoccupied with the mischief Rad and the twins got into behind closed doors, Ramza took a moment to regain his composure and mulled over just how much to reveal about his discovery. Rad, for all his unsavory talk earlier, was a reliable companion and could keep a secret when needed. But, at the same time, if Rad came away from this meeting looking less than his usual roguish self, it might raise questions that Ramza would prefer went unasked.

He sent a quick glance in Beowulf's direction and saw the former Templar nod gravely. Ramza, in turn, let out a sigh of resignation, gestured for Rad to keep his voice down, and revealed his discovery.

The dark knight's face blanched and his normally chattering mouth parted in a gape of unmitigated shock.

"This...isn't some ploy to get back at me for… well, you know, right?" he asked softly, a hint of pleading in his tone.

Ramza shook his head. "No, it isn't. One of the stones is missing, I'm sure of it. It has to be the Pieces stone. It's mentioned in both the "official" account of Saint Ajora's battle with the Lucavi and the Germonique Scriptures. But, none of these stones have the matching sign. I thought we would find it when we went down into Midnight's Deep, but I never expected to find the hidden thirteenth stone, Serpentarius, instead."

Midnight's Deep had, indeed, been a nest of surprises. Not only had Ramza found a hitherto unknown holy stone, but he had wrested it from what appeared to the Elidibs, one of the most famed mages in Ivalician history, believed to have been lost fighting the Romandan armies during the Fifty Years War.

And, as if that wasn't enough, Ramza had secured this prize with the help of Byblos, a demon who had, for reasons unknown, broken ranks with the rest of his kind.

Byblos's motives were an enigma, as was how Elidibs had come to possess a holy stone. However, Ramza suspected that, if Elidibs had planned to leave the depths and bring both his arcane knowledge and his new-found demonic powers to bear against mankind, then the detour through the dark, deep dungeon had been worth every stumble.

"Where could it be?" Rad asked, seating himself next to the young Beoulve. "I was certain one of Vormav's minions must have had it. I mean, apart from Taurus, Aquarius, Cancer, Libra, Virgo, and Serpentarius they had all the rest."

"I thought so too, Rad. But, I was wrong."

At this pronouncement, a silence fell over the group, heavy and oppressive. Undoubtedly the dark knight and the former Templar, like Ramza, were grimly contemplating the implications of this discovery. Rad, whose pale stricken features contrasted starkly with his ebon armor, kept making furtive glances toward the kitchen door. Whether this was to ensure that the women had not heard what had been revealed or because he regretted leaving his rude games with the twins, none could say. Beowulf, remarkably calm by comparison, steepled his fingers and regarded the stones with a look of intense concentration.

Ramza, he suspected, looked like a mess, for he heard Beowulf address him with a concerned voice. "You're worried, aren't you?" he asked.

"I'd be lying if I said no," Ramza confessed, rubbing at eyes which were more red than blue. "Even with Altima gone, there is still a chance the Lucavi could return if even one stone should fall into the wrong hands."

"So what do you propose we do, Ramza?" Rad asked. "The stone could be anywhere, and we can't exactly go hunting for it before Delita comes through... if he comes through. For all we know, the Pisces stone could have been picked up by someone who has no idea what it's capable of."

"Hardly anywhere," Beowulf interceded. "Though the tale of the holy stones is well known, the stones themselves are not. Remember, you, Agrias, and Ovelia did not even recognize the Scorpio stone until Draclau told you what it was. To the untrained eye, they would seem no more than crystals cut in exotic designs, fit for high art or to con a fair bit of coin out of one foolish enough to mistake crystal for true gemstone. So, whoever finds the Pieces stone may likely try to sell it for a generous sum. Many nobles, even those who are less-than-susceptible to being conned, will surely pay good coin to have it in their collection. With all the nobles who were killed, imprisoned, exiled, or left impoverished as a result of the war, there are only so many inclined to purchase exotic trifles, so the stone's discoverers should have only a few prospects."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of!" Ramza intoned gravely, fearfully contemplating just who would be the natural choice amongst those 'few prospects'.

And, indeed, it seemed horrifically obvious now. Who else was there to buy such an exotic trifle now that so many of the myriad former power brokers in Ivalice were either dead, imprisoned, exiled, or destitute?

Who else could part with enough coin to satisfy the greedy discoverer of such a lucrative find?

Who else but the one man who, in a few decisive strokes, had made himself the sole power broker in the realm and had all the kingdom's coin at his command?

Though Ramza did not voice this dread revelation, Rad easily followed his train of thought.

"You're thinking of Delita, aren't you?" he asked. "You're afraid that if the stone surfaces, he will try to obtain it and, if he does, it may turn him into a zodiac demon too."

"As much as I hate to admit it, yes, it is a possibility," the young Beoulve confirmed sadly, suddenly feeling centuries old under the burden of memory he carried.

The notion pained the young Beoulve as his thoughts wended their way back to his elder brothers. As they had been from Balbanes's first marriage, he had not been particularly close to Dycedarg or Zalbag. When the two had promised to save Teta, and gone back on their word, Ramza could barely think of the pair without the scar over his young heart aching at the betrayal. When he had ventured to Lesalia following Queklain's death, hoping to secure the aid of Zalbag - and, through him, Dycedarg, who could affect policy in such a way as to undermine the Lucavi demons's scheme - the rebuke he'd received had been a stinging one. With the benefit of hindsight, Ramza supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. He'd had no proof, and Zalbag had no cause to trust him more than Dycedarg.

Until the eldest son of House Beoulve revealed his most heinous crime which Ramza, even after forging bonds of friendship with many who'd once sought his death, could not forgive:

The murder of Ramza's father and Dycedarg's: Balbanes Beoulve.

With such sheer ruthlessness and callous disregard for life, it was no wonder that the Capricorn stone had taken over Dycedarg's body so easily, transforming him into the Lucavi, Adramelk. No less evil was how he had manipulated Zalbag until, by chance or fate, he had discovered Dycedarg's crimes and, in an ironic display, joined Ramza in toppling the usurper who had soiled the name of House Beoulve. Zalbag might have joined his once-estranged half-brother, and Ramza would have welcomed him, but Adremelk's profane power had transformed Zalbag into a revenant, an undead creature that lived in perpetual agony while its memories turned to smoke.

Zalbag had died regretting his whole life, spitted upon the unwilling Ramza's blade, and Ramza had long been haunted by his inability to avert this especially bitter tragedy of the War of the Lions.

Although Ramza loathed keeping secrets from Alma, he could not bear to tell his sister the truth about their brothers. He feared this knowledge would devastate Alma, who had surely suffered far too much already, and so he swore Agrias and their other companions to secrecy on the matter.

Having had to fight and kill his older brothers had been more than enough of a weight on his ever-heavy heart. But, the prospect of that tragedy repeating itself with Delita, especially with the stakes all the higher with his former friend now occupying the throne, had caused that burden to feel like the weight of the world...

...which, he reflected, might not be far wrong.

Apparently, Beowulf could also sense the young Beoulve's train of thought. "You fear that if your friend becomes a Lucavi, you may be forced to kill him just as you were forced to kill your brothers. Is that it?"

Ramza nodded, seeking a smile at this latest display of his lack of subterfuge but failing. It had never been a secret to Ramza that he wore his heart on his sleeve, but it seemed that his friends could read his thoughts just as surely as if they'd been penned across his forehead. This was hardly surprising, however, considered everything they had been through together. This was especially true of Rad, who had fought alongside him since they were both mercenaries under Gafgarion's command. His former classmates from the Hokuten academy, who had been at his side from his first battle in Gariland to the final confrontation in the Graveyard of Airships, could also glean his thoughts the way an Arithmetician could glean the answer to a simple equation. And, even though Beowulf had not known him nearly as long, the former Knight Templar, much like his beloved Reis, had an almost eerie talent for reading people, particularly those who had earned his friendship and loyalty.

"Yes," Ramza confessed. "I won't bother pretending I know how or why the stones do what they do. But, I do know that people with troubled souls or impure thoughts, like Weigraf and Dycedarg, are susceptible to the stones' darker powers. And, these stones seem to have a knack for finding their way into the hands of potential hosts as well."

"Do you think Delita would use such a stone the way the other hosts did?" Beowulf asked, his tone carefully neutral.

"Frankly, I'm not sure. I doubt Delita would deliberately use it for evil, but he's managed to do a lot of reprehensible things which, I imagine, he considers to have been for the greater good. A Lucavi demon might very well be able to play on that, offering him even more power to make sure that no commoner will ever meet the same end as Teta. But, then again, Delita is strong willed and cunning, and I believe he'd rather die than be anyone's puppet again. And, we also know that the stones' ability to corrupt humans is limited. Otherwise, we would've all been turned by now. I'd like to think Delita can be trusted in spite of everything, especially with so much riding on him nowadays. But, even if he's as good as his word, I cannot let him know of the stones' existence, let alone allow him to obtain one. If a Lucavi takes over the King of Ivalice, then everything we've been through would have been for nothing...and there's no telling what disaster may befall this country."

Once more, a heavy silence fell over the small group. Perhaps, Ramza wondered, they too were mulling over the young Beoulve's words. Though Ramza had a fragile hope that Delita would keep his word and that he would not repeat the misrule of Ruvelia, Larg, and Goltana, none of them sincerely believed that the young king's anger had been extinguished. Nor did they assume that his lust for power and vengeance could be so easily cast aside after having simmered for so long during years of meticulous planning and careful execution, all aimed at bringing about the downfall of the previous order of Ivalice.

Even if Delita could be trusted to safeguard the fugitives, he was still a cunning and ruthless man with no compunction against deceit, manipulation, or murder when it served as the means to his sought after ends.

What havoc could a Lucavi demon wreak with so potent a weapon as Delita's mind, made all the deadlier by the authority of his crown?

The young Beoulve shuddered to contemplate the question.

"So what do you propose we do?" Rad asked after a long silence.

"There is only one thing we can do: search for the Pieces stone," Ramza declared. "I will find it alone if I have to; the rest of you have already been through far too much and I do not wish to trouble you further."

Beowulf shook his head. "No, Ramza. Out of the question. First of all, you don't even know where to start looking. Not to mention that it is far too soon for you try to head out into the world again. Were you to set out now, you may very well blow your cover, as well as your sister's. You must bide your time, wait until things settle down a bit more. And, even if we agreed to your plan, we would never let you carry it out alone."

Ramza looked as though he wanted to protest, but Rad interjected before he could speak. "I agree with Beowulf. It's far too dangerous for you to go out looking for the Pieces stone now, especially by yourself. You should wait, at least for now."

"What do you mean 'wait'?!" Ramza growled, remembering only belatedly to lower his voice. "You know what those stones can do! And, like I said, it would be a disaster to this country if Delita was subverted by the Lucavi!"

"I also know that you wished to hear my thoughts because you're worried that your own judgment is unreliable," Beowulf pointed out. "Why else would you have told only me? Why else would you not have already set out by yourself? You can deny it if you wish, but what else would explain those bags under your eyes or your slumped shoulders? I know you, Ramza. You may fear battle and death, but neither ever affected you like this. You want my advice? My advice is to focus on Agrias, Rachel, Alma, and your unborn niece or nephew. They are the people who depend on you and they are the people you can still help, regardless of whether or not the Pisces stone reemerges. They've already suffered much with what has happened. Don't add to it because of what might happen."

"You can't be suggesting I ignore a missing holy stone."

"Not in the least. But, consider. These stones have been missing for over twelve hundred years. For all we know, the Pisces stone has remained unfound by all. Such was the case with Aquarius and Cancer, as you may recall. And, there is far too much at stake for you to risk your cover by venturing forth blindly."

"He's right," Rad spoke up. "You must lay low for now. And besides, how will you keep this a secret from Agrias and Alma? You can't afford to endanger your life so recklessly, especially now that you also have your child to think about. When the time is right, we will help you find the stone, but not before."

The young Beoulve had to admit, the rare moments where Rad shed his ne'er-do-well persona could be quite striking. One moment, his hands could be engrossed in exploring a strange woman's hindquarters while, the next, those same hands could be working with potion and spell to snatch an injured friend back from the brink of death. No less remarkable was how the lecherous expression on his face could rapidly melt away and be replaced with one of earnest concern and unshakable determination.

Rad did not show that side of himself often; but, when he did, not even a Meteor spell could force him to recant.

Ramza, sensing that his chances of persuading Beowulf were even slimmer, sighed in frustration and gave a resigned nod. He knew his friends were just as worried as he about the stone falling into the wrong hands, but he also sensed that they were right in saying that setting out to search now would be foolhardy.

The only solution for the time being was patience...which, the young Beoulve had to admit, was his weakest point.

"You're right," he conceded. "Waiting is not what I do best, but it seems we don't have much of an alternative for now. I just hope that, wherever the stone is, it is not in the possession of someone who can be corrupted."

"Trust me, we're just as worried about it as you are," Beowulf affirmed. "But, I still believe that the wisest course is to wait until things are more settled before we begin our search for the Pieces stone. We found much we did not expect to, including stray holy stones, simply by keeping our eyes and ears open. Perhaps we will do so again."

"I agree," Rad chimed in. "Besides, these stones have been missing for twelve hundred years, and we've found twelve of the thirteen in just two years. I like our chances! And besides, if somebody else finds it first, we can just take it from them! I, for one, still have excellent thieving skills from my days as a pickpocket before Gafgarion recruited me. I'm confident I could even snatch it from the treasury of the king himself if need be."

Upon hearing that, Ramza could not help but smile. Having seen his friend's skills in thievery before, he had no doubt that Rad could deliver on that promise.

"I understand. Very well, I will wait a bit longer. Anyway, now that this discussion is over, I'll need to be putting these stones away, lest they contaminate our food."

Rad and Beowulf laughed, relieved that their former leader had not decided to argue the point. Though Ramza was by no means a dullard, his inane drive to hazard himself in order to safeguard the defenseless had propelled him towards quite a few dangerous decisions.

His unexpected fatherhood might temper that instinct one day, but Beowulf and Rad suspected that they might need to make other such interventions in the meantime.

As the pair moved to help Ramza place the holy stones, the blasted pieces of rock that had been responsible for wreaking such havoc in Ivalice, back in the small jewelry box that the young Beoulve kept them in, the twelve crystals suddenly flared.

And, as they flared, disembodied voices crept into each man's ear.

One voice spoke against allowing Delita to remain on the throne, saying that his legacy of treachery should be unmasked and the true savior of Ivalice crowned in his place.

Another spoke of vengeance against the false religion of Glabados, of corrupt clergyman recanting their many lies from within the grip of the hangman's noose.

More spoke still, of riches beyond compare, of fame that would echo in eternity, of willing life back into those who had been unjustly cut down by the storm of war, and of the need to live as exiles, in disguise or in hiding or in fear, being overturned by the power of the stones...

...power that was, at best, too great for any man to understand or wield and which, at worst, was derived from hatred and which reeked of false hopes and empty promises.

Firming their resolve, the three men snatched up one stone after another and shoved them into the jewelry box, the voices falling into seething silence as the box was snapped shut and locked.

Perhaps the stones, like their guardians, were biding their time.

At that moment, the three men heard footsteps as Alicia approached the table with the first course of the evening's dinner.

"What were you three talking about?" the former monk asked curiously as she set out platters of hot food on the table.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with, just lambasting Rad for his behavior, as usual," Ramza answered, trying to make the lie sound as smooth as possible so that Alicia would not become suspicious. Like Alma, deception did not come easily to him, and he strongly disliked speaking falsely unless he had no choice or, as was the case with his elder brothers' deaths and Delita's true legacy, when the truth would deal more pain than any lie ever could. He knew also that the Murry twins had a tendency to tell each other, as well as Agrias, everything. His earlier whiff of nostalgia aside, Ramza knew that, if his love learned of what he was considering, she would never let him hear the end of it. The young Beoulve was relieved when he saw that Alicia's answering smile did not hold even a hint of suspicion.

"I see. Anyway, Agrias and the others will be out with the rest of the food soon. Would you three be so good as to lend a hand?"

"Of course!" Ramza answered, perhaps a bit too eagerly, as he turned and nodded towards Beowulf and Rad. The three wasted no time as they began doling out portions of lamb, roast chicken, ribs, and other delicacies upon the modest metal plates, as well as snatching utensils from the nearby cupboard to finish setting the table as the rest of the women emerged from the kitchen.

"You see those?" Rad asked Ramza, gesturing at the leg of lamb, chicken breast, and rack of ribs, all of which were making their mouths water. "Like I said, works of art!"

Lavian and Alicia giggled at his compliment, even after Rad had chosen to express his admiration with a playful slap to each twins' buttocks.

Agrias watched the display with, Ramza suspected, a growing urge to introduce the pommel of her sword to Rad's front teeth. At the last, however, she shook her head grimly and took her seat.

Though the dining hall was no less dark, nor any less chilly, it seemed far less foreboding once the small band had seated themselves and dug into the modest but lovingly prepared meal. Dinner passed by quickly, the seven companions engaging in their customary banter about their plans as well as hopes for the future. A cheer rose around the table as Beowulf and Reis announced their plans to, at long last, marry, possibly before they departed for Lesalia with Ramza, Agrias, Alma, Rad, and the twins. The young Beoulve, grateful for something to focus on besides the errant holy stone, promptly raised a toast to the happy couple. Rad, never one to miss an opportunity for mischief, promptly asked Ramza and Agrias when they planned to marry. The young Beoulve, who'd been holding his mug of chilled milk aloft, nearly dropped it at the sudden question. Agrias, who'd been about to take issue with Lavian and Alicia migrating from their chairs to Rad's lap, was left gaping when the dark knight's words registered. Both of the new parents were already blushing by this time, but they blushed all the deeper when they noticed that the rest of the table was eyeing them with keen interest.

All too conscious of the redness gathering about his cheeks, Ramza was forced to admit that he had not given much thought to the idea of marrying Agrias before their friends mentioned it. And, judging by the holy knight's sudden fascination with the floor, she hadn't either. After all, being hunted by church and state alike hadn't exactly permitted much thought of the future beyond how best to evade the many snares and foes that littered their path.

Now, however, the notion was taking root in Ramza's mind.

The young Beoulve had long been fascinated by the beautiful holy knight, enchanted by her grace, her poise, and the unwavering strength of her convictions. Yet he also knew that, despite her frosty exterior, she was far from the animated marble statue she'd been likened to in the past.

He had seen her after Ovelia had thrown in her lot with Delita, and when the faith she'd followed all her life had been revealed as a lie spun to beguile the masses into unknowingly worshiping a demon.

He had seen her rage, he had seen her weep, he had seen her despair, he had seen her hide all that agony behind a stony mask and make the patently false claim that all was well.

And, he remembered how the sight of her agony had wounded him more than any of the numerous sword wounds he'd taken during his long and infamous career.

When she had stumbled to his tent, imploring him to help her forget, he knew that to oblige would be a stain upon his honor nearly as dark as any of his alleged crimes...

...yet, he also knew that he would rather burn at the stake than watch her suffer so any longer.

That decision, Ramza had to admit, wasn't one of his best. And yet, whenever he looked into Rachel's eyes or watched the normally stoic holy knight smile when she rocked their daughter to sleep, he knew he would never wish to take back that choice.

Yes, he did wish to marry Agrias, but did Agrias wish to marry him? Since they already have a child together, he knew he'd already waited much too long to do right by her. And, though he was still uncertain of Delita's trustworthiness, he nonetheless could not suppress the hope that the new king of Ivalice might be able to make good on his promise and that the most innocent of the Beoulve line might be able to have the life he and the others had given up to safeguard Ivalice.

He wanted Rachel to have a place to call home, a family that loved her, and the peace of mind knowing that she could fall asleep at night knowing that both parents would still be there come dawn.

He wanted that life for Rachel, and he hoped Agrias would be a part of it.

At the very least, Ramza and Agrias would have to become engaged so that when 'Drake Seymore' arrived in Lesalia, the ladies would know that he was already taken and not risk the holy knight's wrath by vying for his affections.

Ramza glanced in Agrias's direction, noting the holy knight's blush deepen to crimson when Alicia and Lavian promptly took it upon themselves to plan the supposed wedding.

"We really don't want to fight over who's going to be Maid of Honor, so we'll settle for being Bridesmaids. Alma can be the Maid of Honor, but we are so planning the bachelorette party. That's alright with you, isn't it, Alma?"

When the Beoulve girl let this pass without comment, Ramza turned toward his sister's seat and saw that it stood empty.

"Where did she go?" Ramza asked, his earlier wistful thoughts giving way to concern.

"She said she was feeling tired and wanted to go to bed early," Reis spoke up, though her drawn brows suggested that there was more to the Beoulve girl's departure than that.

Ramza had been about to press the dragonkin for details, but she raised one hand to forestall his words.

"Don't worry," she assured. "I need to examine her anyway, so I'll make sure she is well before Beowulf and I depart."

So saying, she rose from her chair and left the table, but not before turning back to Ramza and Agrias and offering a congratulatory smile.

"I believe I speak for her, however, when I say that you and Agrias have always made a lovely couple. And, that you'd make an even better family."

As the dragonkin left the room, Beowulf, Rad, and the twins lost no time echoing the sentiment, though Rad's customary lewdness promptly caused the talk to degenerate into good-natured bickering. Soon enough, Agrias was positively flustered while Ramza, barely hearing the chatter, felt longing tug the corners of his mouth into a rare smile.

SSSSSS

Oh, what was I thinking?! Alma silently recriminated herself as she neared her room.

The meal had gone well enough and, despite the persistent arguments against Alma exerting herself during her pregnancy, the Beoulve girl was pleased for the simple diversion of cooking a meal for her brother and her new-found friends.

But, that's all it had been; a diversion.

As she had said to Agrias, being idle for too long could only allow the enormity of what had happened to her, and what might yet happen, to wash over her in a tide of grief and dread.

While she was roasting the chicken, or seasoning the ribs, or making idle conversation with her brother's remaining companions, she was almost able to keep her underlying thoughts in abeyance. Almost.

Though she'd held the pendulum of her thoughts in place for a time, her grip was shaky. And, it grew all the more tenuous as she saw Ramza eyeing Agrias with adoration, Beowulf and Reis sharing loving glances, and even Rad's crude flirtations with the Murry twins.

She'd wondered more than once just how those rude games might come to an end. Though the three of them sharing a tent had not been nearly as flabbergasted as Ramza blushingly telling Alma she'd soon be an aunt, the sight of the dark knight, monk, and summoner sneaking about in the wee hours had been quite startling. Though Ramza was of the opinion that Rad was just the twins' playmate, and that he would be just as attentive to anyone whom had spoils which his wits might allow him to pilfer, Alma was not so sure.

The Beoulve girl had, at times, noticed Rad's gaze drifting back and forth between the twins, his usually lewd expression replaced by one of uncharacteristic nervousness and indecision.

Perhaps Ramza wasn't the only one wondering at his future, and who he might share it with.

This latest diversion, however, had proven to be her undoing, as it caused her thoughts to wend their way toward Izlude. The knight blade had been as different from the lavacious dark knight as night was from day. Izlude had been tender and respectful, and though he'd readily admitted he'd found her attractive, he'd also admitted that she had been the first and only woman he had ever coveted...

...she had also been his last.

Recalling Izlude had caused the wound in her heavy heart to throb with renewed pain and, when the conversation had shifted towards engagements and weddings, the pendulum of her thoughts promptly tore free of her grasp and swung in the opposite direction.

Reminded once more of her own loss, Alma found herself feeling uncomfortable as well as a bit depressed and she'd excused herself from the table.

By the time she had realized her mistake, however, it was too late.

Surely her abrupt departure had attracted some notice. And, since there was little need to guess the cause, her flight might very well have marred what should've been a happy occasion.

Though they'd only known each other for a short time, she'd come to think of Reis as an older sister like Agrias and Meliadoul, and knew that the dragonkin had earned a happy life with Beowulf a hundred times over. Yet, the Beoulve girl's flimsy grasp on her own emotions had allowed her to detract from Reis's well deserved moment of happiness.

The notion set her gut to roiling, and she could swear that she felt her child give her an admonishing kick as she arrived at her room. Ironically, her new room was the very same one Reis was confined to during her captivity at the hands of Celebrant Bremondt. As soon as the door shut behind her, she found herself once more gripped by the indecision that had so often plagued her amidst the trials and tribulations she'd endured since her abduction from Orbonne. She found herself wondering if it would help if she'd gone back to the dining hall and apologized for being so inconsiderate. She quickly discarded that idea, however, deciding that the happy occasion would most likely return to its proper course without her around as a distraction.

That thought struck her as surely as a slap on the mouth. Though Agrias and Reis had assured her that she could always talk to them when her spirits were low, she could not help but feel like a burden to them when they had been through so much during the war and since both women had their own lives to live. Ramza too had earned that and, mutton-headed though he might be, she suspected that it would not take him long to take Rad's advice and marry Agrias.

As for Alma, she remained in grief for the man she'd loved and lost, and alone in spite of the friends who remained at her side.

As if roused by that thought, she felt a stirring beneath her ribs, punching a gasp from her lungs as her hand reflexively darted to her womb.

"I'm sorry about that," she whispered, surprised that she didn't feel the least bit foolish talking to her stomach. "Mother's just been having a hard day."

Her words, though more instinctive than anything else, jolted her back to awareness. In six months, if not sooner, she would be a mother. Maybe she would have help raising her child, or maybe she would be on her own. But, it hardly mattered.

This child was all she had left of Izlude, and this child needed her.

That reminder of just how much rode on her slender shoulders left her shaken for a moment; after all, she knew even less about rearing a child than Ramza and Agrias. But, a stretching second later, something kindled to life in her breast. Whether it was a desperate determination not to lose the chance to be the mother of Izlude's child as she'd lost the chance to be his wife, whether it was recalling the vow she'd made never to forget Izlude and the love they'd shared, or some burgeoning maternal instinct, or some mingling of all three, she could not say.

Whatever the reason, she knew she could not afford to wallow in her grief.

"Maybe turning in early would be a good idea," she mused, partly to her unborn child. "I need to clear my head and, from what I've seen of your little cousin, I should get what rest I can before you start keeping me up half the night."

So saying, and hoping a night's rest would help her regain her composure, she changed into her nightgown and had been about to snuff out the candle when she heard a knock at the door.

"Alma? Are you there? It's me, Reis. May I come in?"

The Beoulve girl suddenly felt her fragile resolve tremble. As had happened often of late, the dragonkin had been the first to notice the sudden peculiarities in Alma's mood. Although the Beoulve girl tried to conceal her resurgent melancholy and sound as though all was well, she supposed she should've known that she could not fool Reis. Like her love, the dragonkin was also very perceptive and had an almost eerie knack for reading people, even those she had not known for long. Much to Alma's relief, however, she'd refrained from calling Alma out on her lie in front of the others. Instead, she said she'd come to Alma's room once the meal was over.

Alma had hoped that Reis's claim had been an idle one and, in truth, Alma wouldn't have blamed her.

Still feeling guilty, the Beoulve girl considered making some excuse to get Reis to leave but, having seen Agrias, who was visibly more pregnant and far more ferocious, repeatedly fail to ward Reis off, Alma discarded the notion.

"Alright," the Beoulve girl answered as she quickly opened the door for the dragonkin.

As the dragonkin entered the room, Alma could not help but be impressed that she could enter what had once been her gilded cage with nary a hint of discomfiture. This room, which Bremondt had gaudily decorated for the woman his delusional mind believed was his love, had changed very little since she was imprisoned behind its locked door and warded walls with only the prospect of Beowulf's death to keep her company. But, then again, Bremondt was dead and Reis was reportedly able to tame dragons with the power of her will and breathe fire. So, it stood to reason that a woman of her talents did not scare easily.

Alma did, however, find herself wondering if such a woman forgave easily.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, struggling to keep her voice even. "All that talk about engagements and marriage got me thinking of..."

She couldn't finish the sentence, but she hardly needed to. Reis gave an understanding nod and clapped a hand on the Beoulve girl's shoulder.

"Don't worry, we understood," the dragonkin assured, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Still, it doesn't excuse what I did. I mean, after everything you and Beowulf have been through, it was inconsiderate of me to ruin the occasion. I should've stayed and just held it together."

"Alma, there are three things wrong with that statement. First, you didn't ruin it. If you know what we've been through, you'd know it would take more than a hasty exit to rob us of our happiness. Second, the idea of "holding it together" during pregnancy is a joke. These mood swings will come when they come, and there's no stopping them. And, third, I've seen other women do much worse when their hearts were all awhirl while carrying a child. I could tell you stories about Agrias's pregnancy that would make your hair curl."

Having seen one or two such stories for herself, Alma could not help but snicker, the small laughter seeming to her as much a treasure as water in the desert.

"That's better," Reis affirmed. "Now, why don't you get on the bed at we'll get started."

The Beoulve girl nodded and took her place on the edge of the ostentatious four poster. Ever since she and the others had moved into Lionel Castle, it had become routine for Reis as well as Beowulf to visit at least twice a week, in large part so that the dragonkin could check up on Agrias and Rachel, as well as Alma to ensure that her pregnancy was progressing without any complications. Ten years of experience as a midwife had taught Reis that routine check-ups for expectant mothers were invaluable in detecting potential problems which, if left unchecked, might lead to miscarriages and death in childbirth. Since Alma had spent nearly three months of her pregnancy in the captivity of a disguised demon, and then briefly possessed by one herself, Reis would take no chances with her latest patient.

Before Reis followed Alma into the room, the Beoulve girl noticed that she had stooped to retrieve a plate which she'd set on the floor next to the door. On the plate was some kind of pastry she had never seen before, coated with a sheen of sweet syrup.

Perhaps it was one of those strange pregnancy cravings, or the fondness for novelty that so characterized young people, or maybe it was the simple fact that she was eating for two.

Whatever the reason, the pastry's aroma made her mouth water.

"That looks delicious, Reis. What is it?"

The dragonkin smiled. "It's a popular dessert where I came from called 'flan'". I made some for your brother and friends. But, since you could not stay for dessert, I made sure to save you a little. I suspected you'd need a little something to cheer you up, and I'm sure your child would appreciate it as well," she answered with a wink.

Alma laughed softly. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Reis, but you didn't have to."

"Of course I did. Eating well is essential to having a healthy baby. I trust you have been following my instructions? Remember, six small meals a day as well as plenty of water and milk, but no wine, ale, or spirits."

"Yes, I remember. I normally don't eat this much, but I suppose this is natural since I'm eating for two now."

"Right," Reis said as she handed the dessert to Alma and watched with a snicker as the Beoulve girl eagerly took a bite. Though her prior grooming would never have permitted such a display, Alma found herself sagging with delight at the sweet and savory flavor that assailed her taste buds. Her first bite was just barely within the confines of a noblewoman's standards, and her adherence to dining etiquette promptly took a nosedive from there.

"It's delicious, Reis. What's in it?" she asked, her words muffled by rapid forkfuls.

"Eggs, sugar, flour, caramel, and syrup. It's very easy to make; I can show you sometime if you'd like."

"I would," Alma said as she finished the last bite and set the empty plate on her night table. "But, Ramza doesn't want me spending too much time with cooking and housework. I practically had to beg him to let me help with dinner tonight. He's worried that I might put too much strain on my body and lose the baby, but I think it's preposterous. I mean, Agrias had followed him all over Ivalice, fought Lucavi demons, and still managed to have a healthy baby."

"Well, Agrias is a strong woman. Not that I'm saying you aren't, but she is a warrior. And besides, she had little choice. With the church and both the White and Black Lions chasing them, there was no safe haven for her to wait until she'd given birth, though Ramza certainly tried to find one. And, considering all the strain she placed on her body and the fact that she didn't always eat well, it's a miracle Agrias didn't miscarry. But, like I said, she didn't have much choice. However, you do, so I suggest you do as your brother says. He and the others can run the castle just fine without your help for the time being."

That was hardly what Alma wanted to hear, since time spent in idleness might very well allow her grief to simmer and bubble over. But, the dragonkin's mention that the circumstances of Agrias's surprise pregnancy could have easily cost her baby's life had struck a chord. Though she knew Agrias would deny any such insinuation, and probably quite vocally, the holy knight seemed to have had her carrying Ramza's child well in hand. Granted, she'd looked quite ridiculous wearing her armor in such a state and her ponderous waddle had only made her look all the more absurd. But, for all that, she had nonetheless seemed as solid and indestructible as the stout trees from which she drew her surname.

That Agrias's baby had been at risk all the while had never occurred to Alma, and she suddenly found herself second guessing her reluctance to take Ramza's advice.

As tragic as it would've been to lose Rachel, Ramza and Agrias could have another child.

Alma, however, would get no such second chance.

"Anyway, since we're talking about good advice," Reis went on, shaking Alma from her reverie, "I'd suggest you start lighting a fire in here before bed. This room is freezing!"

So saying, the dragonkin moved towards the room's fireplace, inhaled deeply, and blew out a gout of flame. The moldering logs in the fireplace, which looked as if they hadn't been touched since Reis's captivity, promptly caught fire and a warm conflagration crackled to life, lending badly needed warmth to the once cold and forbidding chamber.

"Will your children be able to do that too?" Alma asked once her awe had subsided enough to permit speech.

At the notion of having children, and the thinly veiled implication that Alma believed she'd be a good mother, a delighted blush crossed Reis's features.

"Not until they are around your age," the dragonkin answered, her expression giving way to one of ironic humor and restrained horror. "A fire breathing teenager, now there's a charming thought. But, enough of that. Now that you're done eating, please lay down so I can examine you."

"Yes, Reis." Alma obeyed as she laid down. Taking a chair from the nearby writing table, the dragonkin set it right next to Alma's bedside before seating herself. After a quick reminder that a dragonkin's skin was quite a bit cooler than those of a normal human, she placed her hands over Alma's belly. The Beoulve girl flinched at the chill, but quickly settled, allowing Reis to feel the slight movements coming from inside her friend's womb, a sign that the baby was doing well and that Alma had indeed followed her instructions faithfully.

"It looks like your child is doing well. If you keep this up, he or she will be just as robust and lively as Rachel."

Alma smiled. "I'm glad to hear that. And amazed, really. When you told me I was with child, I was worried that Altima might've done something to the baby when...," she let her words trail away, shuddering at the memory before continuing. "What I don't understand is how you were able to tell I was with child when everyone else, including myself, had no idea."

"I'm not so sure that's entirely true. I think you did notice the changes to your body, but you were so preoccupied with everything else that happened, not the smallest of which being helping bring your little one's cousin into the world, that you did not think much of them until you passed out."

That point served to drive home just how little Alma knew about these capricious waters she'd soon be wading into. If Agrias's knowledge of motherhood was slim, Alma's was truly minute. And, six months was very little time to learn before the baby arrived. Realizing this, Alma listened raptly as Reis pointed out once again that the Beoulve girl had missed her monthly cycle, a key sign of being with child. And Alma listened with great interest as the older woman went on to explain how the two were connected, something that she, ironically, did not learn during her training as a cleric at Orbonne.

If her instructors had thought her too young to learn that particular aspect of the healing arts, she could safely say they'd done her no favors in being so concerned with her delicacy.

"Do you think my child will be a boy or a girl?" Alma asked as she meditatively rubbed her belly.

"Unfortunately, there's no way to tell until the child is born," Reis admitted, though curiosity seeped into her features. "If you could choose, would you like a boy or a girl?"

The Beoulve girl was silent for a moment before answering. "I'm not sure…," Besides the gender of the child, Alma also found herself wondering what he or she would look like. Would the child have her golden hair? Or perhaps Izlude's dark locks? Would his or her eyes be the color of the sky or that of the Burgosa Sea, which was famous for its dazzling green waters? Perhaps those two colors would mingle, lending the child irises that drew on both of his or her parents? It was a possibility that her child might, indeed, have both Alma and Izlude's features mingled together, considering that Agrias had bluish-green eyes and reddish-blonde hair which, Alma supposed, owed to two parents whose disparate features came together quite beautifully in their child.

As her thoughts turned once more towards the baby's father, Alma found a sigh of melancholy parting her lips. As brief as her time with the knight blade had been, and as tragically as it had ended, she was happy that a part of Izlude would live on yet. Part of her knew that her child was proof that Izlude had loved her and that she could do no greater honor to his memory than to raise him or her well. But, another part of her also knew that having his child would serve as a painful reminder of the man she had loved, lost, and would mourn for the rest of her life, especially if the baby was a boy. She would never be able to look at their child's face without seeing the face of the man she had loved for a short time and would mourn for a lifetime staring back at her. But, once more firming her resolve, Alma decided she would find a way to keep the promise she'd made to herself and this child. Maybe it would be best to take Agrias up on her offer when her grief weighed too heavily upon her. Or, perhaps the wiser course was to keep such thoughts to herself. She did not want to trouble her brother and his friends further, not unless keeping silent might harm her precious burden, for the Beoulve girl doubted there was even one single person in all of Ivalice who had not lost something or someone precious to them in the terrible conflict that was the War of the Lions. Innumerable mothers and fathers had seen their sons and daughters depart for the front never to return, as well as the reverse, and just as many brothers and sisters had buried their siblings in shallow graves amidst Ivalice's many battlefields. No, with or without the proffered shoulder to cry on, Alma had to be strong. Izlude himself would have wanted it, just as surely as he would have wanted their child to grow up happy and well loved.

"Well, whether it's a boy or a girl, I'm sure your child will be as beautiful as her mother," Reis affirmed, gently stroking Alma's hair. "Or as handsome as his father, if what you told me about him is true."

Alma blushed, her memories for once bringing a smile to her face at long last. "Trust me, Reis. Izlude was the most handsome man I had ever seen. But, please don't tell Ramza I said that; he might get jealous."

Reis laughed. "Of course not. It'll be our little secret."

SSSSSS

After the small band of fugitives had finished a serving of Reis's delectable flan, followed promptly by a second, the good natured mischief in the largely deserted castle quickly drew to a close. After Beowulf and Reis had taken their leave and the others have retired to their rooms for the evening, the lights in the windows of Lionel Castle winked out and whispered chatter gave way to soft snoring. In the master bedroom, however, Ramza yet remained awake. Though he'd elected to take Beowulf and Rad's advice, the errant holy stone still teased at the back of his mind. Sensing that sleep would prove elusive this night, he decided to while away the time by reading the letters from their other companions who had accompanied them on their journey during the war. These had wended their way to the young Beoulve's new home through various channels, all of which likely kept secret and safe by Delita's invisible hand.

While Ramza was glad to have some means of keeping in touch with his friends, it added yet another complication to the question of their continued safety.

After all, since these letters passed through Delita's hands, it meant that, if the new King of Ivalice went back on his word, he'd know where to find Ramza's other companions as well.

Shaking off the notion, and reminding himself that he was jumping at more than enough shadows already, Ramza chose the first letter. Judging by the way it had been written by several different people, and that the rough way the parchment had been handled suggested those same people had been somewhat argumentative regarding whose turn is was to write, it must've come from his old classmates from the Hokuten academy. The first portion of the letter looked as though it was written in the flowing script characteristic of Francis the thief and Mydrede the ninja...and that there'd been some pushing and shoving over whom controlled the quill.

Hey, Ramza. You didn't think you'd get rid of us that easily, did you? Well, we've arrived back in Gariland. Since it was well behind the White Lion's lines, it didn't get hit as hard as some of the other towns we've seen. Still, it's kinda eerie being back here after everything that's happened since we graduated. Not many of the others from our old class made it through the war, and we can't exactly start chatting up those who're still around. Still, after all the practice we got in keeping a low profile, we'll manage until Delita makes good on his promise.

Here, the handwriting changed into the blocky text of Abel the black mage and Emery the white mage, the section they'd written being especially smudged with grasping ink stained fingers.

We likely won't stay in Gariland for long. Too many memories. As for where we'll go instead, we're undecided. We've been hearing talk about Delita founding a new order of knights. With so little left of the Hokuten, Wyverns, Griffons, Nanten, and Aegis Knights, I guess he thinks it's easier to start from scratch. They say this new order will be called the Order of the Chimera, since many of the surviving knights will be joining to serve as officers and new recruits will come from every which where. We have been thinking about joining once our pardons come through, since it would give us a window into Lesalia. It's no secret that Agrias doesn't trust Delita - frankly, we're not sold on him either - and it might be best if someone she does trust is watching out for Ovelia.

Ramza gave a nod of approval to his absent companions, though he hoped their vigilance would prove unneeded. As he moved on, he saw that the next portion of the letter was written in the calligraphic script he'd long associated with Wynefreede the samurai.

It's still hard to believe everything that's happened. Delita being a king and all of us being fugitives. I've known a long time that life isn't fair, but this is just unreal. All we've been through, and we're likely to be the only people who know about it? I know, I know, you asked us to keep our mouths shut about just how Delita got onto the throne, but that doesn't mean we have to like it. Frankly, it blew us away that you didn't try to use the skeletons in his closet against him. Still, whatever else Delita might be, it seems like he's managed to do right by his new subjects. Schools for the poor are popping up like toadstools and, with all the reconstruction projects Delita's been sponsoring, there are jobs aplenty. We still find ourselves wondering how much of this might be just an act to win the peoples' favor, but who knows? Maybe Delita will surprise us in a good way, for once.

Despite the note of frustrated skepticism the letter had taken, Ramza found a smile tugging at the corners of his lips at such hopeful signs. In particular, the hitherto unheard-of notion of educating the masses might very well bring about changes to Ivalice that would still be felt after Delita's rule came to an end. And, perhaps, some truly tangible good, the sort that nobody would need to rationalize or use convoluted reasoning to justify, would result from those on the lower rungs of society being better equipped to improve their lot in life. The last part of the letter was written in Raffe the dragoon's chicken scratch and, as was often the case in the past, Raffe's first sentence caused a laugh to part Ramza's lips.

After due consideration, the requisite deliberation, and the customary number of broken noses, it has been decided that I will finish this letter. Frankly, the others have covered a lot of what needs to be said. But, we all wanted to say congratulations on your daughter's birth. If we can find a way to get to you without attracting notice, we'd love to meet her. In fact, with luck you might see us in Lesalia when you head up there next month. For now, we'll be keeping our ears open for jobs in the taverns. Yeah, yeah, we know, you offered us a very generous severance package, but we think you'll be needing that money for your kid. Besides, since none of us is quite safe yet, the job we took on way back when is not quite finished. Here's hoping that changes soon, and may we meet again in happier times.

Raffe, Francis, Abel, Wynefreede, Mydrede, and Emery

Still laughing, and finding himself thinking Rachel would enjoy having a few more eccentric aunts and uncles, Ramza turned his attention to the remaining letters. He decided to read Mustadio's letter next.

Greetings, Ramza! I wanted to tell you that I have safety returned to Goug to continue my research of ancient machinery alongside my father. I've got so many things I want to tell you about, not the least of which being that Construct 8 is working like a dream. I'm really glad the Aquarius Stone was his activation key rather than his power source. A machinist could spend a lifetime trying to figure out what makes him tick, and enjoy every minute of it. He's also been helpful with excavating the ruins and identifying areas which we didn't even know were there. I tried to ask him how he's able to do that, but it might be a while before I can understand everything he said in reply. Don't worry, though, I'm already on it! I was also able to figure out how to use that orrery to send Cloud home. He still doesn't seem stable to me, and his strength is beyond human. But, I could swear I saw him tear up when he laid eyes on that flower girl in Sal Ghidos. I still don't know what to make of that, and he didn't bother telling me before he walked through the rift to his own world without so much as a 'thank you'. I'm not sure where Balthier has gotten to, and I still have no idea what to make of him. I've always thought of myself as being pretty good with guns, but I swear, you'd think that guy was born with one strapped to his hip! Another thing I can't make sense of is what he meant when his gaze lingered on that wrecked airship in the graveyard. The way his expression became so forlorn and he murmured that strange word Strahl. That still has me baffled. But, you know what's even more bizarre? When he headed off, he left behind plans for an airship. And, they're the real deal! I've done some calculations, and the mechanics all check out. As if his calling you "Vaan", calling Agrias "Ashe", and Orlandu "Basch" wasn't strange enough!

Ramza could practically feel the machinist's exuberance wafting off the parchment, and couldn't help but smile. Mustadio might've been older than Ramza, but the young Beoulve could not help but think of the machinist as a bright and eager boy, always excited at the prospect of building some new gadget.

As for Ramza, his fascination with airships ended when one of them was literally blown out from under him.

Still, if any man could bring about another era in which airships crowded out the heavens, Ramza was willing to bet that Mustadio would be that man. And, with that, he turned his attention back to the letter.

There is one other thing I'd like to ask you about, though. Have you heard from Melia? She was in a bad way when we escaped from Murond, and I'm kinda worried.

Ramza's eyebrow arched at the nickname the machinist had given the divine knight. As Ramza recalled, Meliadoul hadn't appreciated it...but, then again, they hadn't exactly met Meliadoul under the best of circumstances. If the life Ramza had known had come toppling down on that fateful day at Fort Zeakden, then the twin blows of Riovanes and Limberry had caused Meliadoul's life to turn to dust and scatter on the wind. In the span of a few weeks, the divine knight had lost her brother to the leonine claws of Hashmalum, learned that her father, lost for years to demonic corruption without her even realizing it, had been the culprit, and discovered that the faith to which she'd devoted her life had been a sham concocted by the very evil behind the loss of her family. That barrage of horrific revelations seemed to have caused her heart to crumble in her chest, leaving behind only a well-honed machine of battle that Construct 8's long dead creators would have envied.

She rarely spoke, she took her meals and her rest well away from the others, and her otherwise lovely face was always marred by exhaustion and the jaded air of one for whom life had become merely a succession of days leading to the end...and that everything prior to that end had been gutted of joy or meaning.

Mustadio, who could be surprisingly empathetic despite how much time he spent in the cold silent company of machines, had taken it upon himself to help her...

...but, as often happened in those pursuits of his which did not involve machines, the results left much to be desired.

Less-than-suitable for the frontlines, Mustadio would often support the divine knight by firing over Meliadoul's head, shielding her from ranged attack and providing the distraction needed for her to bring her unique sword skills to bear. Having lost his own shield to such techniques during their battle in Bervenia, Ramza had been eager to see these talents put to use against their myriad foes. Mustadio had always been the first to complement Meliadoul's skill and bravery, though the divine knight's response usually looked more akin to a grimace than a smile. These recollections suddenly nudging aside his preoccupation with the errant holy stone, Ramza read on.

I tried to convince her to come to Goug with me. I thought maybe it would help if she got a fresh start, but she turned me down. When she left us, just before Rachel was born, she said something about seeking out her fate. But, with what happened down in Murond the last time "fate" came up, I have my doubts.

Ramza couldn't blame the machinist. Not long after it was discovered that Altima's explosive demise hadn't killed them, Meliadoul had slipped away from the group, Mustadio following not long after. The others had been discussing how best to clear the rubble blocking their path back to Orbonne when a gunshot rang out. Ramza had raced in the direction of the sound and found Meliadoul huddled on the floor massaging her forearm. Her unsheathed sword lay not far off and, between the blade and its owner, was Mustadio, frantically trying to hide the smoke issuing from his gun's muzzle.

Though neither had said so explicitly, it was obvious what had happened. Having been denied death in battle against the Lucavi, Meliadoul sought to end her own life, only for Mustadio to intervene.

But, judging by the distant, wistful expression on Meliadoul's face and her whispered rambling about fate having been cheated, it was doubtful that she'd show much gratitude for the machinist's intervention.

Ramza did, however, find himself wondering if there might be more to the machinist's actions than that. Mustadio's surprising empathy aside, it was no secret that Meliadoul was very attractive. More than that, however, after having seen his father dangling over the jaws of death and having narrowly slipped away from the reaper's grasp many a time, perhaps Mustadio had found himself thinking that life was, indeed, brief and fragile.

After all, the civilizations whose lost technologies so fascinated him likely served as a daily reminder that time was never on anyone's side and that, with only so many years to seek what joys and experiences one might find, there are few if any second chances.

Perhaps now, with a future free of the games of war played by the worst of mankind and demonkind, Mustadio's agile mind had turned towards the future and he'd found himself wondering if a certain former divine knight might have a place in it? Curious, he continued reading.

I'm hoping that, if you have the chance to talk to her, you might have better luck. You always did have a talent for persuading people. After all, look what you talked Agrias into. Ha, ha, ha! Speaking of which, I'm going to see if I can see you in person when we meet in Lesalia again next month. My father also extends his gratitude for saving him, as well as keeping me safe, heh heh. But, there is one thing I must ask you about. Now that Altima is gone and the war's over, what do you plan to do with the holy stones? We both know how dangerous they are, and I think it's best if we find some way to destroy them. I've talked it over with my father and he agrees, but says that it may not be possible. Perhaps the best thing you can do is seal them away and let the secret of their locations die with us. But, we can discuss that when we see each other again. Until then, take care my friend.

Mustadio Bunazsa

Ramza's earlier amusement over the machinist's veiled interest in his former companion promptly gave way to a frown at Mustadio's mention of the holy stones. Once more, the missing Pieces stone teased at the back of his mind and he suddenly found himself wondering what might happen if Beowulf and Rad were mistaken in their earlier counsel. Ramza supposed it hardly mattered whether the stone was already found or down some hole waited to be discovered. As the true savior of Ivalice, the young Beoulve had also found himself the rather unwilling guardian of the Zodiac Stones, and this weighty obligation was now his responsibility whether he wanted it or not. He knew the potential the stones had for evil as well as good; but all too often, they have been used for evil. Having seen firsthand what they could do once they'd ensnared the corrupt, Ramza knew the stones must never be allowed to fall into the wrong hands again. If it was possible to destroy them, he would spend the rest of his life trying to find a way to do so if that's what it took to keep a monstrosity such as Altima from ever returning to the human world.

But for now, he knew that agonizing over the unknown would serve only to sap his strength and cloud his wits when he'd need both, not just in case news of the stone did surface but to safeguard his family as well. Thus resolved, he placed Mustadio's letter aside and picked up another letter, this one from his father's old friend, Count Cidofolas Orlandu. Or, as he was better known, "Thunder God Cid".

Hello, Ramza, I trust you have been well since we last saw each other? I could not help but notice that you broke your sword arm during our last battle and I pray, even now, for your swift recovery. As for myself, I have decided that this shall be my last adventure. I have lost count of how many battlefields I have walked, how may foes I have laid low, and how many friends I have had to bury along the way. I wish for our battle against Altima to be the last time I shall have to shed another's blood. It's not as if I've much choice in the matter either. My age is catching up to me at last; my bones ache, my hands tremble, and my heart lurches in my breast. It's quite clear that I'm not as young and spry as I used to be. Sadly, that might not deter those who have cause to wish me harm, so I'm going to lay low and live out my remaining days somewhere peaceful and quiet. Due to the circumstances of Duke Goltana's death, and my alleged role in it, I cannot disclose where I will be going nor when or if I will return.

On a less somber note, I wish to extend my gratitude for your having Luso accompany me on this final journey. Luso reminds me much of your father's stories of you. The lad is energetic, adventurous, and never hesitates to help a friend in need. Still, it's no secret that, with the war over, he's eager to resume searching for his missing friends. He tells me that he's heard nothing from them, neither word nor rumor, and it's obvious that he's deeply concerned. Once I'm settled and my affairs are in order, I'll send him on his way. He's done well by us, and I can only hope that he will find what he seeks.

Even in these quiet corners, however, there is news which has caught my attention. I heard from Olan that King Delita has appointed you and Alma as the new duke and duchess of Lionel, and that Agrias as well as Rad and the twins are living with you. He also told me of your new daughter and I want to congratulate you and Agrias both. I'm sorry I could not be there to see her, but I'm sure she must be beautiful. Your father would have been proud of you and would have dearly loved to see his grandchild if he had lived. I can make no promises about whether I will be able to see you again but, if I cannot, know that I wish for nothing more than your happiness. Once again, congratulations on your little girl and I know that she is in the best of hands.

T.G Cid

As he finished the letter, Ramza sighed sadly. Like himself, the former count's good name had been a casualty of the war. Orlandu, who had commanded the Nanten during the Fifty Years War and had fought bravely at the side of Balbanes and his Hokuten, was also believed to be dead. Yet, the manner of his supposed death was every bit as ignominious as it was false. During the aborted Battle of Fort Besselat, where both of the warring dukes were slain, Orlandu had been relieved of command and imprisoned after "evidence" had emerged of a conspiracy between him and pro-Orinias members of the church.

Unsurprisingly, Delita had been appointed as the new commander of the Nanten and, consequently, became Goltana's new right-hand man.

Shortly after Ramza and company had freed Orlandu from the Fort, news reached their ears that, during the chaos resulting from the sluice being opened and the battle grinding to a halt, Orlandu had broken out of his cell and he and Duke Goltana had killed each other. Orlandu being present and very much alive amongst Ramza's companions made the truth clear enough, but it was another truth which would never let see the light of day so long as Delita lived.

After all, that Delita likely killed his own liege lord and painted an innocent man as the culprit might tarnish his image as a benevolent king.

Orlandu himself hardly seemed to mind, since Goltana's lust for power had undone his wits, but that didn't change the fact that the man who was an even greater hero than Ramza and Delita combined would have to live out his life in obscurity. However, unlike Ramza and Alma, the former count had little reason to fear pursuit. The body of Delita's decoy, which resembled Orlandu as surely as a twin, had been discovered at the scene of the gruesome deed. Ramza doubted many would genuinely revile Orlandu for his alleged crime, but that the former count's name was so besmirched rankled him. However, the young Beoulve forced himself to remember that his father's old friend only wanted to live quietly in peace for whatever time he had left. Perhaps he would have a chance to see his friend at least once more before his time in this world came to an end.

After setting Orlandu's letter aside, Ramza picked the next letter, this one being from Malak Galthana.

Greetings, Ramza. How have you been? Rafa has been pestering me to write you, and to find out about yours and Agrias's baby. I know Rafa and Agrias had some disagreements, but I think Rafa enjoyed having a strong woman around to look up to. As for me...well, I hope you know what you're getting yourself into. With everything that's happened, I can barely picture myself finding a woman, let alone raising a child. Still, Rafa seems to think you'll do fine and, considering all you've done for her, I can believe it. I was told that your old home has been abandoned and, since everyone thinks all the Beoulves are dead, the castle has become property of the crown, along with your family's wealth. I guess, since Delita can't afford to exonerate you publically, giving you and your sister Lionel instead is his idea of offering something in return. I find all that ironic, considering Lionel was once the home of your enemy. I hope he pays you well to govern that province, and that your baby grows up in a better world than we did. As for my sister and I, we had returned to Riovanes. I know, I know, that surprised me too. But, Rafa had some mementos of our village there and, since the castle's treasury had been untouched by the Lucavi, I figured I might as well collect the 'severance pay' Barrington owed us, since it would help us to make a new life for ourselves.

When I reached his treasury, however, I found his will tucked away inside. I read it and found, much to my surprise, that our adoptive father had named us his heirs and left his entire estate and fortune to us. I had to track down and question one of his former solicitors to make sure the document wasn't part of some twisted joke, but the whole thing is legal and binding. Perhaps, in his own twisted way, he did love us, though I can never forgive what he did to Rafa. She was hardly impressed by this gesture and, to make up for my years of willful ignorance, I have tried to appease her by putting our father's estate up for sale. But, to my dismay, I found that I could not find one buyer, even after offering it for a price that a scullery maid could afford. Apparently, a handful of knights and servants had managed to escape the Lucavi massacre and spread the word, as did the investigators who came to Riovanes after Barrington was killed. As a result, everyone now believes that Riovanes is haunted and we're now stuck with this unwanted inheritance whether we want it or not. But I suppose, for better or worse, Riovanes is still our home; it's not like we have anywhere else to go since our village was destroyed long ago. However, since the orphanages Barrington established have also come into our ownership, I find myself wondering if this might be a blessing in disguise. Not long ago, we were amongst those orphans. Barrington used them as a recruiting pool for his assassins but, maybe with him gone, some good can be done for those children. Maybe we might even be able to do some good with Riovanes, like you probably will with Lionel. I can only hope that, in time, people will get over their fear about what happened here and we will be able to hire a staff again. Rafa and I won't be able to accomplish much if this places comes down around our ears.

There is one other thing on my mind, however. I know this isn't my business, and that you always gave everyone in our group a lot of leeway, but I really think you ought to do something about Rad and the twins. Maybe this is just me looking for ways to make up for how I let Rafa down, but I don't like the way Rad's always stringing Lavian along. When I realized what Barrington had done to Rafa, all I could do was fume at my own stupidity, but Lavian was able to put a smile back on her face. She was also able to shake me out of my self-recrimination and get me to see that I was making Rafa feel even worse by beating myself up. Well, I know Rad is a friend of yours, so maybe you could try and talk some sense into him. You do have quite a way of persuading people.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to seeing you and the others again in Lesalia. If you can, bring the baby. Rafa will be thrilled to see the little one. Until then, take care.

Malak Galthana

Of all the myriad words and phrases that could describe Ramza's reaction to the netherseer's revelation, "blown away" likely came closest to the truth. The young Beoulve had to admit, despite having first met on opposite sides, he was impressed by Malak's grit. Still, he pitied the Galthana twins for having to live at Riovanes by themselves now that their adoptive father was dead, along with majority of their knights and staff who were killed in the massacre which became infamously known as 'The Horror of Riovanes'.

Those few who had managed to escape, and those fewer still who'd managed to keep their minds from coming undone by what they'd endured, had emphatically refused to return, and Ramza honestly couldn't blame them. Still, he shared Malak's hope that people would eventually get over their fear of the late Duke Barrington's home and help his unlikely heirs to make something good out of his depraved legacy.

He also found himself wondering at Malak's interest in Lavian. Aside from how difficult it must've been for Malak to admit his error in judgment regarding Rafa and what she'd been through, Ramza had found himself quite surprised to hear Malak express such an interest in another of the young Beoulve's companions. The netherseer had been slow to connect with his onetime foes and, as he had mentioned, he'd been quite caught up in his self-directed anger after the 'Horror of Riovanes'. Though, now that Ramza thought about it, Malak did seem to have cooled off some weeks later. He'd still been somewhat reserved with others, but he become less standoffish and had even allowed his brooding exterior to fall away. If Lavian had been able to bring that about, the young Beoulve found himself wondering what might happen if the two were to meet again.

After setting Malak's letter aside, Ramza got to the final letter in his stack, this one being from Meliadoul Tingel. Considering that the child Alma carried was Meliadoul's nephew or niece, Ramza was more than a bit anxious to learn what had befallen the former divine knight.

It has been some time, Ramza. I am writing to let you know that I am well, all things considered, and that I have found what I've been searching for since we vanquished Altima. I think I finally understand why Izlude died and why father did the things he did. I only wished that I had seen the truth sooner; and, for that, I am sorry.

As for what I have been doing since, I've heard rumors that creatures resembling the lesser demons we fought during the war are still on the loose in Ivalice. Most of these rumors are laughed off as drunken delusions; but, after what happened to Izlude and the Lucavi's other victims, I'm not taking any chances. I was able to track down Byblos and he (at least, I think Byblos is a he) has proven invaluable in tracking the fiends. It is strange, however, that he is so eager to fight his own kind, or that he would fight alongside humans. But, after what happened with my father, and with you, I suppose I should know that appearances can be deceiving. Boco has also proven valuable in carrying me to the reported sightings of these demons, not to mention chasing them down when they try to flee my blade. I thank you for lending him to me, and I hope I can return him to you unharmed.

As for what I will do when these reported demons dry up, I don't know. Like you, I have also been summoned to Lesalia, but I'm not sure if I want to go. Even with the lingering traces of demonkind to hunt, I have become lost; I no longer have anything to protect or hold dear, something that had been the crux of my entire life. Mustadio had offered me a place to stay in Goug, but I fear I'd make poor company since he already has to support his father. Even so, with the benefit of hindsight, I suppose I do owe him an apology for the way I'd treated him during the war. At the time, I was so wrapped up in my grief that it felt like he was smothering me. Now, that I'm alone save for my hunting companions, I almost find myself missing him. Though, I will admit, re-gifting that Tynar Rouge hardly helped my impression of him.

In any case, I'm sorry to trouble you with these thoughts. I just needed to let it out, and I hope you understand. Now that father is gone, the entire Tingel estate and fortune has passed onto me, including Izlude's share. It's probably enough wealth to tantalize King Delita's interest, though I would gladly give it all up if I could have my brother back. Anyway, if I don't come to Lesalia, I hope that we will meet again some other way. And, should you cross his path before I do, please tell Mustadio I regret that I did not show him the respect his kindness deserves. Yours truly,

Meliadoul Tingel

Upon reading the former divine knight's words, Ramza's heart sank into his boots. Though none of those who'd fought at his side came away unscathed, even if they were happy nonetheless, this letter was truly disheartening. And, in spite of Meliadoul seeming to find some purpose in her upturned life, he could not help but wonder if the former divine knight might once more consider finding escape from her heavy heart upon the edge of her blade. In truth, however, he couldn't blame Meliadoul for feeling so low. He still had Alma, Malak still had Rafa, and Lavian still had Alicia. But, Meliadoul was utterly alone now that her parents and only brother was gone and that she'd discovered the church she had served faithfully her whole life was a fraud. With Vormav - or, more accurately, Hashmalum - as well as all of their other high-ranking officers dead, the order of Knights Templar had effectively ceased to exist. Granted, there was little use for them now that the Church of Glabados no longer had as much influence in Ivalice as they did before. Still, Ramza hoped that the former divine knight would change her mind and meet them in Lesalia. Perhaps the news that she would be an aunt in a few short months if Alma's pregnancy went well might rekindle the spark of life in her. Maybe Mustadio's fumbling affections might as well.

Ramza could not say. Though, he could not help a snicker of amusement at the barb Meliadoul had directed at the machinist. Like Ramza, Mustadio had been rather taken by Agrias and had thought to offer her some Tyner Rouge as a birthday gift. Procuring such an indulgence was no small matter, however. Mustadio had had to part with a fair bit of coin to obtain it, and it had been weeks before he'd received the goods.

However, by the time he'd had the lavish gift in hand, Agrias's pregnancy was quite visible and she and Ramza had professed their love.

Despite being somewhat harebrained on matters not relating to science and machinery, Mustadio had chosen not to intrude with such a provocative gesture. Instead, as he subsequently admitted to Ramza, he'd chosen to give the rouge to Meliadoul in the hope that a feminine trifle might ease her melancholy. Judging by the letter, however, her reaction must not have been what Mustadio had hoped for.

Feeling the anxiety that had kept him awake ebbing and his eyelids growing heavy, the young Beoulve tucked the letters in his desk drawer and made his way back into the master bedroom. Apart from the cradle, which even now held the last and most precious treasure of the once wealthy House Beoulve, the room seemed almost colorless. 'Almost' because his love was seated next to the slumbering infant, clad in a loose nightgown and with her long hair out of its usual braid, the reddish-blonde tresses cascading down her back and shoulders in soft, tumbling waves the color of a woven dawn. For a long moment, Ramza simply stood and watched as she brushed out her long hair, her eyes turning to gaze adoringly at the slumbering treasure tucked away next to her. A rare smile, precious beyond gil, lit up her features as she extended one leg to gently rock the cradle with one bare foot. The young Beoulve could swear he felt his eyes misting at the sight, especially when he recalled all the trials and tribulations which they had been through to reach this moment, and how easily it could have all ended up being for naught.

Ramza may have had no alternative to bringing his pregnant lover with him on his journey, but that did not change the fact that one slight shift of how events had unfolded could have easily seen them burying their child instead of rocking her to sleep.

"Ramza? Are you still up? Why don't you come to bed?" Agrias asked, breaking his reverie as she turned and spied him.

"Sorry, my love," he apologized. "I was just reading some letters from our friends. It looks like they're all doing pretty well. Mustadio and the Galthana twins will meet us in Lesalia, and my old classmates might as well. But, I'm not sure if Meliadoul can make it. Count Orlandu has decided to find a quiet corner of the land where he can retire in peace, and likely won't be able to come. He wants to keep his whereabouts a secret, but I would like for him to meet Rachel if he gets the chance. Mustadio has sent Cloud back to his own world, Luso's searching for his friends again, and Balthier has gone...well, nobody really knows."

While Ramza had been talking, Agrias had risen from her seat, pressed her lips against Rachel's tiny brow, and crawled under the sheets of the modest bed.

"Well, I can understand the Count not being able to make it," she opined, "but, Meliadoul? Why not?"

Ramza sighed as he slid under the covers and sidled over to his love. "I guess she's still not over Izlude's death. I can't blame her, since Alma isn't either. I worry for both of them," he said as he entwined his arms around Agrias.

"I understand, but there is nothing you can do but give them time to heal. You've already done all you could for this country and her people. It's time you think about your own happiness for once."

His earlier silent adoration for his love dawning once more in his mind, he replied simply "I know."

Tugging her in closer so that his form melded into hers, he took a moment to silently revel in how much she and their child meant to him. His hands roamed her torso, finding it softer than he remembered from their first night together, but just as smooth and with the warmth of happiness radiating from it rather than the chill of despair and disillusionment he recalled from the grim days following Ovelia's defection to Delita.

Normally, such a gesture would have elicited some grumbling from Agrias about the remaining weight gained during her pregnancy that yet lingered on her otherwise statuesque form, but all that passed her lips was a sigh that brought the young Beoulve up short.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, unable to keep a hint of urgency from his tone.

"Ramza…," Agrias began after a long pause. "With everything that's happened, I never had a chance to tell you that I'm sorry you lost your family's home. And, your name on top of that."

The young Beoulve smiled almost nonchalantly as he gently took Agrias's face in his hand before giving her a kiss. "Don't be," he whispered. "As long as I'm with you and Rachel, I am home. I already have all that I ever wanted and I regret nothing."

"I see…," Agrias replied, letting out a sigh of relief. "I'm glad you feel that way. There were times I found myself wondering if your life might've been simpler if...well..."

"Simpler doesn't always mean better. It would've been simpler to go back to Igros after Fort Zeakden, but I haven't wanted my old life back since Teta died. After that, after seeing that even a Beoulve could stoop so low as to go back on their word and take an innocent life, I wanted nothing to do with them. The castle, the wealth, the acclaim...it all seemed so pointless by comparison. I wanted to make something else of myself, something better."

It seemed that Agrias approved of his words, for she shimmied down in his grip and tucked her head beneath his chin.

"And, I'd say you've succeeded," she opined. "I know you've probably heard this before, but I think your father would have approved. And, I'm glad it's you who will be at my side as we raise our child."

"So am I…," Ramza paused for a moment, gently pressing the holy knight against him. And, in that moment, his ever-heavy heart seemed finally and truly mended as the light of their love shined upon it and sheared away the lingering thunderclouds of the War of the Lions.

Being with Agrias, raising their child, was a truly perfect island amidst the storm tossed sea of time they'd travelled over the last two years and he did not want to leave it. Ever.

"Hey, Agrias?" he spoke up, surprised he could get the words past the lump in his throat.

"Yes?" she asked, her lambent bluish-green eyes rising to meet his sky blue orbs.

"I know that it's a bit late, but…,"

"But, what?"

With one in-drawn breath that summoned all the courage he could muster, he let out five small words with the power to change the world. "Will you marry me, Agrias?"

The holy knight stared at her love in shock for a moment before bursting into laughter.

"Yes, of course I'll marry you, Ramza! I thought you'd never ask!" she answered before giving her fiancé a passionate kiss.

And, amidst the wonderment of their newly sealed pact to, at long last, wed, and beyond the blessed years that lay ahead as they would raise their daughter and keep her safe, there was more. It was a subtle fluttering of memory in the back of Ramza's mind which, little by little, coalesced into Delita's voice. When that distinct baritone spoke, Ramza heard, for the first time in a long time, the voice of his childhood friend. There was no calculating undertone, no cryptic words, and no veiled threats.

Instead, his words held what might be an oblique omen that, at long last, the darkness was lifting from the life of the young Beoulve whose pursuit of justice had made him an outcast.

In the back of Ramza's mind, Delita said King's to you, Ramza...

A/N: Ok, Chapter 8 down. The next will cover Izlude's journey to Lesalia and treasure hunting along the way!