Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy Tactics. This fic is written for your enjoyment only and takes place after the Lion War. Once again, I would like to thank my co-writer, Falchion1984 for his help in making this fic possible. Enjoy and please review!
Chapter 29: You Belong to Me, Part I
A welcome break in Limberry's persistent rain allowed Olan and his group to resume their travels and they soon came upon the Sadalfas Manor…
…or, what was left of it.
Once a stately, if somewhat excessive, edifice of natural stone that had been smoothed out and polished until it shone in the sunlight, adorned with fluttering banners and stained-glass windows, the manor's splendor had proven no shield against the ravages of nature.
Be it the nature of fires and floods, or of human nature.
After the startling revelation that this mysterious girl, who Olan and company wasn't even sure existed, was the younger sister to Algus Sadalfas, the man chiefly responsible for the death of Delita's sister, Teta, the chancellor had been constantly mulling over what he knew about the Sadalfas family.
What he'd found had been quite sobering.
Algus had reportedly claimed that his family had once been as highly regarded as House Beoulve and, much to Olan's surprise, this had apparently been true. Famed for producing gallant knights and outstanding commanders, House Sadalfas had sent its finest sons, along with those of House Beoulve and House Orlandu, to the battlefields of the Fifty Years War, confident – too much so, as it turned out – of victory.
And, that overconfidence spelled disaster when Lord Klaus Sadalfas, Algus' grandfather and then-patriarch of House Sadalfas, was captured by the Ordalians. Whether the man was yellow livered, or whether his captors were just that effective at breaking prisoners, none could say. But, either way, Lord Klaus had bought his freedom through betrayal.
At the time of his capture, Lord Klaus had been acting in concert with Lord Hans of House Claussen during the attempt to reconquer Limberry after its fall to Ordalia late in the war. While Lord Klaus would provide the main thrust of the attack, and then make an irresistible decoy when he seemingly pulled back and regrouped, Lord Hans would penetrate and take the undermanned castle.
With Lord Klaus in Ordalian hands, however, he had been "persuaded" to share the details of this plan, including how Lord Hans' contingent was sitting very neatly in a ravine near Poeskas Lake.
The Ordalians promptly bottled Lord Hans' troops in, and slaughtered them.
Lord Klaus was given his freedom in payment for this information, but it, and his life, proved fleeting as he met his death at the hands of a squire within hours of his release.
In the days following the massacre near Poeskas Lake, it had initially been believed that the disaster had all been attributable to simple misfortune. But, soon thereafter, one of Lord Klaus's bannermen, Sir Fritz, who'd been released as well, spread the tale of his lord's treachery. Despite adamant denials from the surviving members of House Sadalfas, the story had seemed downright plausible to the public.
Thus, in the twinkling of an eye, House Sadalfas went from an illustrious house, cherished by the whole of the kingdom, to pariahs.
Their reputation was sullied, seemingly beyond repair, their bannermen deserted them en-masse, and their fortunes rapidly evaporated.
Part of Olan could understand the depth, and fire, of the anger inspired by Lord Klaus's betrayal. So many brave sons and daughters of Ivalice, practically the cream of Limberry's youth, had been lost in that massacre and, to add insult to injury, salvaging the plan to retake Limberry Castle had had to be left to House Beoulve.
Thus, on top of losing practically all of their finest warriors, Limberry had had to watch as strangers retook their capital for them, while they were left lamenting lost blood and wounded pride alike.
Part of Olan, himself a veteran of the Fifty Years War, did indeed understand why House Sadalfas was so hated, and even shared the sentiment.
The rest of him, however, remembered the brief but vitriolic, and all too similar, ignominy his "late" step-father had been subjected to after his alleged betrayal of Duke Goltanna, until Delita's abruptly delivering on his promise to exonerate the famed "Thunder God Cid".
Whether it was empathy or merely a new understanding of how cruel and unforgiving people could be, Olan was deep enough in these grim contemplations that he had to be knocked back to awareness.
Literally.
"Ouch!" he spluttered, bringing up one hand to massage his sore pate. "What was that for?!"
"You were taking too long," Mydrede complained, tapping her foot impatiently.
Grumbling sourly, Olan turned his attention back to the manor itself. He'd heard tell that, following Lord Klaus's treachery, House Sadalfas had tottered on the brink of financial ruin and, once the family's last gamble – namely the promising young squire, Algus – had ended in failure, creditors and angry relatives of those who'd lost their lives to Lord Klaus's treachery had come swarming out of the woodwork, either to satiate debts, greed, or anger.
Doors had been smashed in, windows broken, valuables plundered, furnishings and keepsakes vandalized, and, ultimately, the corpse of House Sadalfas was picked clean, or nearly so.
And then, there'd been the flood.
Olan hadn't realized this until they'd arrived, but the river they'd been following was the very one that flowed downstream from Fort Besselat, which would've been the site of the single bloodiest battle in Ivalician history, if not for the sluice gates "mysteriously" opening to cause the battle to grind to a halt as the armies were parted by the ensuing flood.
That act by the true, but unsung, heroes of the War of the Lions had likely saved thousands, if not tens of thousands, of lives. But it also further complicated Olan's task.
It was not uncommon for manors to be built near such scenic locales as rivers or mountains, to impress upon guests the wealth and splendor of Ivalivian nobility or to give a lovely backdrop as they enjoyed drinks and discussed politics, trade, or trivial gossip. Sadalfas Manor had been built several meters away from the riverbank to lend such a backdrop to the then-wealthy family's home.
On parchment, several meters was a perfectly safe distance.
After all, how could the original architects have foreseen that a certain exceedingly heroic, and mildly demented, Beoulve would see fit to open the sluice gates upstream, causing the river to swell to many times its former size?
Unfortunately, that seemingly nonsensical possibility was precisely what had happened. And, although the river had since receded, the flood had literally torn away the rear wall of the manor, washing away what little might've been left inside and leaving once stately drawing rooms peppered with mold and pools of stagnant water.
Even worse, the basements, the most likely place to find written records of whether Algus had had a sister, yet remained waterlogged, and anything kept down there had undoubtedly been long since ruined.
Olan surveyed the desiccated husk of the manor, trying not to think too much about how structurally sound the exposed upper floor might be…or might not be, and then addressed the group.
"Francis, Mydrede," he began. "You two look light on your feet. You'll search the upper floor. Abel, Emery, you go with them. Use Float spells, that should keep you safe in case the floor gives way. Raffe, Wynefreede, Balmafula, and I will search the ground floor."
"What are we looking for?" Francis asked, not sounding like he particularly wanted an answer. Not that Olan blamed him, all things considered.
"Proof, any sort of proof, that Algus had a younger sister."
Under his breath, Olan added "And pray we come away empty-handed."
Admittedly, Olan had no idea why Delita wanted Algus' alleged sister found now after all this time. How or why he even suspected she existed was also a mystery, as the Chimera Knights who accompanied Olan – all of whom had fought alongside Ramza, Delita, and Algus during the war against the Corpse Brigade – had sworn up and down that Algus never once mentioned having any siblings. What records remained of House Sadalfas' genealogy had also proven less-than-helpful, but all that could be dismissed as Algus' parents wanting to keep their daughter a secret until Algus had managed to make such a name for himself as to, at least partially, salvage their house's legacy.
Either way, Olan found himself fervently hoping that Algus had, indeed, been an only child.
Because, for the younger sister of Delita's most hated enemy, there were few fates less dire than falling into the vindictive hands of Ivalice's king.
SSSSSS
Izlude silently drew in a deep breath as he held his pose of obeisance before Delita, kneeling with one fist over his heart, at the feet of the new, and unlikely, King of Ivalice and Duke of Lionel. Drilled all his life in courtly protocol, he kept his head bowed respectfully until both men gave him their permission to rise.
As he waited, the disguised Izlude took the opportunity to steel himself for the task that lay before him. The last, he hoped. Although Izlude had already successfully made his case to "Duke Drake Seymour", known to a select few as Ramza Beoulve, regarding his wish to court "Catherine Seymour", also known as Alma Beoulve, and had thankfully succeeded in convincing the young Beoulve to accept his suit, he still had the king himself to impress.
And, this time, he would not have the Pisces Stone to help him. Now, all he had were his wits and his words.
For Alma's sake, and that of the child they'd unwittingly created in Riovanes Castle, that had to be enough.
For Delita's approval to let him court "Duchess Catherine" was just as important as her brother's, if not more.
Taking the cue from Ramza, Delita gestured and said: "You may rise, Sir Damien Mitchell, late of the Order of the Wyverns."
With the king's permission having been given, Izlude stood up and assumed the regalest posture he could muster.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," he said courteously before briefly turning to Ramza. "And you as well, my lord."
Ramza nodded, quickly mouthing "good luck", and Delita continued. "I've heard that you've become quite the talk of the kingdom, Sir Damien. And not only because you've successfully captured the fancy of my cousin, Catherine. It has reached my ears that you also displayed considerable bravery before arriving in Lesalia. Is it true that you single-handedly drove out the Phantoms of Gollund, as the rumors say? I read it in The Lesalia Times recently, along with how your actions likely prevented the Ivalician Mining and Metals Consortium from collapsing and taking hundreds of jobs with it."
"Damien" had been reminded, often, of his exploits as "The Ghostbuster of Gollund", and still couldn't hear the title without the phrases "Who ya gonna call?" and "I ain't afraid o' no ghost" popping into his head for some strange reason. Still, while that had done much to make his case, he also knew that, here, certain…omissions had to be made.
Knowing that there was no way he could reveal that the Pieces Stone gave him the power to vanquish the phantoms, but not wanting to outright lie to the king, Izlude decided the best course was to hew as close to the truth as possible, leaving out the Stone but also telling what he could in a way that sounded believable, and doable for an ordinary man.
"The credit for that is not mine alone to take, Your Majesty," he answered. "I did trace the haunting in the mine to its source, yes. But, as diligently as I have trained with the sword, my skills alone could not have vanquished the phantoms; I had help from a band of traveling laborers and merchants. The phantoms' lair lay across a chasm, which they helped me to cross, and one of their number accompanied me with a supply of Phoenix Down for fighting the ghosts. Only with their assistance was I able to exorcise the haunted mines and enable the workers to return for good."
"I see…" Delita began as he gave Izlude an appraising look, as if unsure whether to believe him or not. The young knight before him was certainly more than he appeared, but Delita still could not quite put his finger on what might lay hidden. Still, he pressed on.
"My chancellor tells me you hail from Romanda. Is that correct?"
"It is partially correct, Your Majesty. My parents were Romandan immigrants, but I was born and raised in Yardow before becoming a knight in the service of the late Duke Barrington."
"Interesting. So that explains your lack of a clean Romandan accent despite having the trademark ebony hair and grey eyes of their people. Not to mention your having a distinct Favoham accent. A novel combination, indeed. I dare say, you've caught the attention of more folks than just my cousin's since you've arrived in Lesalia. Tales of your bravery have also spread far and wide."
Izlude blushed at the unexpected praise. "You are too kind, Your Majesty. I have heard tales of Lady Catherine as well, and she had piqued my interest so much that I had to make the journey to Lesalia to see her. And I must say that the rumors do not do her justice. Even though I am but the son of humble immigrants, I sought and have successfully obtained the wealth to ensure that I can provide her with the life she so deserves, if she would have me."
"Yes, I've also heard you've acquired quite a fortune in Gollund," Delita remarked. "And I must say I'm very impressed with how you managed to obtain more wealth in a few days than most noble families have in a few generations. That is indeed no small feat, especially since you carved your way through a host of phantoms to attain it. But wealth alone, even won through heroism, is not enough. I needed to see what kind of man you are for myself, in order to determine if you are truly worthy of my cousin's hand."
"I understand. And you have my word of honor that I will treat Lady Catherine with the love and care that she deserves, if you will grant me your permission to court her."
Delita shot Ramza a quick look as if wordlessly asking for his opinion. Despite keeping his expression one of humility, Izlude surreptitiously assessed the two men. Though Ramza had never outright said that Delita was aware that Alma was with child, it stood to reason that the king knew, as it would explain why he'd put such effort into finding Alma a husband, and with peculiar suddenness and urgency.
And, it was likely that both men knew that time was starting to run out for Alma. By Izlude's reckoning, she had to be three, perhaps four months along, leaving little time before she could no longer conceal the pregnancy. Ramza and Delita likely knew that they cannot afford to refuse "Damien's" suit, especially since he was the only one whom she has shown any interest in, let alone a willingness to be bound to him for life. In fact, from what Izlude had gleaned, the mysterious Romandan knight was the best they could ever hope for in a husband for Alma, and they both knew it.
Part of Izlude felt ugly for essentially winning this victory by capitalizing on the two men's desperation, especially since the cause of their desperation – namely, Alma's pregnancy – was a result of his allowing his ardor to overpower his common sense.
But, the rest of him knew that Alma needed the man she truly loved, and that their child needed his or her father. And, if Izlude had to play dirty in order to help his loved ones, he would.
Ramza nodded his approval and Delita quickly turned back to Izlude.
"Very well," he intoned, though Izlude had to read his lips to get the rest as blood began pounding in his ears. "You have shown yourself worthy of my approval. As the king, I could command that my cousin accept your proposal, but out of love and respect for her and her wishes, I will allow Lady Catherine to have the final word. Hence, you would do well to accept her decision as to whether she would have you."
Izlude fought the urge to sigh with relief. "Yes, of course, Your Majesty."
"Good. Thank you for coming, Sir Damien. It was an honor to meet you."
"The honor was all mine, sire. Thank you for accepting my suit. And you as well, Lord Seymour."
"You're welcome, Sir Damien," Ramza said, looking nearly as relieved as Izlude himself. "I shall let my sister know of this decision as soon as possible. If she accepts your proposal, we can start on the wedding preparations right away, if that's alright with you?"
All too aware of the reason for the rush, Izlude quickly agreed.
"Of course."
SSSSSS
Ovelia folded her hands together while trying her hardest not to fall back into her longtime habit of twiddling her thumbs, a tendency she had developed back in her days at Orbonne Monastery whenever she was nervous or uncertain. She had invited Agrias to join her for lunch, but her old friend and former bodyguard seemed to be running late.
Though she managed to keep her digits still, their mutinous trembling did harken her back to memories of the old days. As strange as it sounded, Ovelia missed the times she and Alma lived in isolation from the rest of Ivalice's population. Despite that entailing a life of austerity in the humble surroundings of a monastery, which itself was located in a lonely corner of the hinterlands where it rained too often for her liking, they'd had more freedom to be themselves and not worry about what anyone thought of them, aside from the ever-kindly Father Simon and the other monks. Unlike now, in which both Ovelia and Alma had to be mindful of everything they said and did in public now that they knew that everyone in the kingdom were watching every move they made as the new Queen of Ivalice and Duchess of Lionel.
Even in those rare instances where the isolation, and the loneliness, had seemed like crushing weights upon her spirit, Ovelia had not reckoned that a world crammed with judgmental eyes might prove to be even worse.
In fact, these days, Ovelia felt like the only people she could truly feel comfortable enough to be herself around were Agrias and Alma. Until now, the young queen had not yet gotten a chance to spend time with her former bodyguard like she had with her best friend. But Ovelia could not blame Agrias for that, certainly not now that the holy knight was a new mother. Indeed, it won't be long before Alma would be as well. Hopefully, the gambit to find Alma a husband before she began to show would succeed.
Strangely – and, perhaps ironically, given that both Agrias and Alma had fallen pregnant out of wedlock, which would send Lesalia's infamous gossipmongers twittering for months – Ovelia could not help a twinge of envy, even though she herself was still young and would have plenty of time to produce an heir to the throne.
But, of course, that assumed she could ever become comfortable enough with her husband to even share his bed again. Once, Delita's touch alone was enough to make Ovelia willing. But nowadays, it caused chills to run up and down her spine as she recalled Delita's penchant for manipulating people to his own ends…and what tended to happen to those people once they'd outlived their usefulness.
"My queen, are you well?"
Ovelia was startled out of her thoughts by one of the young maids who'd brought a bottle of wine and two glasses to the table where she sat while waiting for Agrias to join her. While she had successfully managed to avoid twiddling her thumbs, Ovelia only belatedly realized that she had been resting an arm on the table, cupping the side of her face with one hand while tapping the glassy surface with the fingertips of the other.
She silently chastised herself for showing such weakness. After all, her husband might not be the only one who wanted to exploit her.
"Oh, you startled me!" she replied, painting on a smile. "Can you tell me when Dame Agrias Oaks will be arriving?
"Dame Agrias should be arriving shortly. She told me this morning that she may be running late, if putting her daughter down for her nap proves…challenging. She asks that you forgive her if that happens. But she will most certainly be here."
Ovelia smiled and sighed in relief that her old friend had no intention of passing on her invitation. Not that Agrias would ever do such a thing, but the young queen had been told that motherhood often led to stress that made one forgetful at times.
And, that was leaving aside how Agrias had fallen pregnant in the middle of the war, and while traveling with a small army on the march, no less.
Ovelia would sooner take a meat cleaver to her own hands than let Agrias catch wind of it, but what dregs of mischievous girlishness remained to the queen would sometimes paint a very, absurd picture in her mind's eye of what that looked like. She started with their meeting in the ruins of Zeltennia Church, where Agrias was simply too far along to conceal her pregnancy, and then she added in such ludicrous details as having to be carted about the battlefield by a chocobo, trying to fit her boots over swollen ankles and her armor over her swelling breasts, and Ramza being pressed against some unyielding obstacle by Agrias's belly as she berated him for some slight, the young Beoulve looking incongruously terrified.
Swallowing a snicker, Ovelia turned her attention back to her faithful maid.
"You're right, Edith," she said, an uncommon admission from royalty to a servant. "I'm sure Agrias is just being held up because of her new baby. I can't blame her."
"I'm sure she'll learn quickly enough and make a wonderful mother. And, so will you, Your Highness, when the time is right."
Ovelia frowned. As if she needed to be reminded of her royal duty as queen to produce an heir. Ironically, Delita himself did not try to pressure her. In fact, since that odd spell he'd had in their bedroom, she'd seen very little of him, even with the other issues of the reconstruction seemingly well in hand at the moment. However, their subjects, as well as members of parliament, were another story entirely. Not that Ovelia could blame them; the last thing the people of Ivalice needed was another war to determine who was their next rightful ruler. Although they would never say so directly, the members of the royal council, as well as the knights and servants, would drop hints about the issue of a potential heir.
Even Alma had inquired once or twice if Ovelia and Delita planned to have a child anytime in the near future. And Ovelia was sure that even Agrias will bring up the subject as well, despite her strong distrust of and deep, if masterfully restrained, animosity towards Delita.
"I am grateful for your confidence that I'll prove to be a good mother when the time comes," Ovelia replied. "Even if I am not so certain myself."
"No woman is born a confident mother, my queen. That is something we all must learn as we go," the voice of Agrias said with a, once unheard-of, touch of humor.
Turning, Ovelia and her maids saw Agrias Oaks approaching them.
Ovelia had to admit, Agrias had changed. But it looked to have been for the better.
Out of her customary armor, the Holy Knight was clad in a dark blue dress that was plain but looked formal enough for lunch with the new Queen of Ivalice. Ovelia had never seen Agrias in a dress before, not even when the latter had attended the balls as a guest rather than a bodyguard, but the color complimented her complexion and eyes wonderfully. That, in turn, drew attention to how, despite some smudge beneath her eyes, likely caused by late nights tending to her daughter, her eyes seemed brighter and her cheeks rosier. Her reddish gold hair also seemed softer, lusher, and, outside of its martial braid, tumbled in gentle waves as she approached.
Ovelia was also aware, though she doubted Agrias would appreciate her saying so, that the dress flattered the holy knight's figure as well. The lack of sleeves made it easier to see how, despite the ample muscles, that Agrias' arms and deceptively small hands were quite shapely and the bodice also revealed that she had some…appreciable assets under her armor. It did also suggest that, as was reportedly the case with women of certain body types, that some of the weight she'd gained had lingered, but Ovelia thought that the widening of Agrias' hips and more generous curves, if anything, helped one to see that there was, indeed, a gentle woman, and a woman who'd make a wonderful mother, beneath that steel plate and stern countenance.
All in all, Agrias, who had once been described as statuesque, and as cold as marble, now looked like the woman Ovelia suspected lingered beneath her veneer of sternness.
A lioness; as capable of being loving to her mate and cubs as she was of defending them against would-be threats.
Ovelia smiled, the first genuine one she had shown anyone aside from Alma. "Agrias, I'm so glad you made it. I regret to say that my husband and Duchess Catherine cannot join us."
Knowing that the maids were watching, Agrias gave a formal bow, forgetting that a curtsy would make more sense given her garb. "I would never break a promise to a dear friend any more than I would to the Queen of Ivalice, especially if the two are one and the same," she replied.
"I'd have understood if you couldn't make it. I know enough of motherhood to realize that it can be exhausting and time-consuming, especially when you're new to it."
Agrias smiled. "Do not worry, Your Highness. My husband, Drake, can watch Rachel for at least one afternoon. Surely, he can manage that much."
Ovelia could not help but laugh at the implication. "Of course, Agrias," she replied before beckoning for her former bodyguard and old friend to sit at the table across from her.
The holy knight took the invitation and made herself comfortable. As she expected, the small table was laden with her favorite foods as well as Ovelia's. Agrias had to admit to herself that she was impressed that Ovelia remembered such small details after everything that had happened to her over the last two years.
After Edith had poured wine for the two ladies, Ovelia turned to her.
"Thank you for your hard work," she intoned, letting her gaze roam over the rest of the maids who had been tending to her and Agrias's needs, so they knew she was addressing them as well. "You are all dismissed for now; my friend and I have a lot to catch up on and would like to speak in private."
Edith nodded. "Of course, Your Highness," she replied before turning to the other maids and nodded towards the nearby exit that led into the royal dining hall.
Taking the hint, the other maids gave one last polite curtsey to the queen and her guest before finally departing and leaving the two alone. Once Agrias was certain that she and Ovelia were alone, she finally asked the question that had been on her mind ever since she arrived in Lesalia. But not before giving Ovelia what she felt was a long-overdue apology.
"Before I say anything, I want to apologize for not coming to see you earlier," she began. "At least, not alone, as I suspect you would have wished. So much has been happening lately, what with Alma needing to find a husband quickly and all. Not to mention that I also had my hands full with tending to my daughter as well."
Ovelia chuckled. "Don't forget your husband too," she added.
"Yes… how could I possibly forget? Believe me, his sense of timing, and penchant for damn fool heroics, are something I'm sure I'll never forget. But I know Ramza can take care of himself. It's Alma that I've been more worried about. And you…"
Ovelia frowned. It didn't take her very long to realize where this conversation was going, but she knew it would have been inevitable. For while Agrias was no longer her personal bodyguard, the holy knight still regarded her as a dear friend and was just as protective of Ovelia as she was of Alma and the Murry twins.
"You need not worry, Agrias, really," Ovelia insisted, wishing she herself believed that. "The kingdom has a long road until it's thriving again; but, ever since Delita took the throne, things have been moving in the right direction at last. I'd say he's done better for Ivalice than the Atkasha royal family has for generations."
Agrias shook her head, slightly disappointed that Ovelia had tried to side-step the real issue she wanted to discuss with her. Even though she couldn't say she was surprised. And so, the holy knight decided to try the direct approach.
"Your Highness… Ovelia, you know that's not what I mean. I'm well aware that Ivalice is well on her way to recovery from the ravages of war. I'm more concerned about you and your recovery. Please tell me, are things well between you and the king?"
Ovelia flinched slightly when she noticed that Agrias refused to address Delita by his name, or even refer to him as her husband. The holy knight spoke of them, the royal couple, almost as if they were strangers to each other. And the worst part was that she was not far off the mark.
"Delita treats me well, if that is what you're asking, Agrias," she said, hoping that would suffice. "I can't really complain, considering that things could have ended up much worse for me, especially during the war. I could have ended up like Prince Orinas, missing with nary a trace. Or worse, dead like Queen Ruvelia. Even if her death was nothing more than a freak accident, it was still a horrible way to die."
"Yes, that is true", Agrias conceded, but sounding unhappy about it. "But escaping such fates does little good if you are living a life of…uncertainty."
"I don't understand what you mean…" Ovelia insisted, though the fact that she looked away from her old friend told Agrias otherwise.
Knowing that her husband, the king, was a sensitive topic for Ovelia, Agrias tried a delicate approach. Unfortunately, this was not something she was good at, for the holy knight had always felt most comfortable taking the direct approach whenever she wanted to make her opinions or concerns known.
But this time was different, because Agrias could sense that Ovelia was uncertain and even a bit skittish, and coming across as intrusive or insensitive to her former charge, who had already been through so much, might make her clam right up.
"Your Highness…Ovelia…if I may ask, do you still have that dagger I gave you when we last met?" Agrias asked slowly.
Ovelia nodded as she quietly pulled up her skirt to briefly reveal the hidden weapon that was strapped to her right thigh in a simple sheath before letting the fabric drop again.
"I have not let it out of my possession since you gave it to me, Agrias," she said solemnly. "Though it be only a sliver of metal, I still feel safer having it with me. I even keep it hidden under my pillow when I sleep at night."
Agrias raised a brow at Ovelia's revelation. "You have? And Delita has never noticed?"
The young queen sighed and shook her head. "Delita has been too preoccupied with other matters to notice. In fact, I doubt he would even notice if I had a sword next to me in bed."
"What do you mean 'preoccupied'? Do you suspect he's being… unfaithful?"
Ovelia flinched even though she knew Agrias was only concerned for her well-being.
"It did cross my mind at first," she confessed. "But after watching Delita's behavior for a time, I doubt that is the case. Still, something has been…off about him lately."
"How so?"
"I mean, Delita seems so…tense, uneasy, and unable to relax. He used to be so…well, what you'd likely expect, I imagine. Always keen to ensure he got the lion's share of the credit for ending the war and for the progress in rebuilding Ivalice. He'd also been going out of his way to show how different he was from past monarchs, with how he cares about the staff. Getting to know them, keeping track of how their families are doing, and even lending advice when the news is bad. He was also attentive and astute, never missing a detail during council meetings and quick to offer input on how to address the issues that arose."
"And now?" Agrias asked. Her expression was stony, but Ovelia knew her well enough to know that the holy knight didn't like what she had heard.
"Where do I start? Well, lately he's been so different. I think we both know that Delita's hardly the kingdom's sole benefactor, even if some people seem to believe that? Well, lately, it seems like he's going out of his way to point out the others who've contributed. But I doubt this is him being generous. Or modest. Earlier this week, I heard some of the councilors complaining that his mind had been wandering during the last several council meetings. The staff has also been whispering that he doesn't talk to them anymore."
Here, Ovelia paused, her brow furrowing in perplexity and something dangerously close to concern.
"It's almost like he's become a different man," she intoned, almost sadly. "And, that's not even the strangest thing."
"What do you mean?" Agrias asked, trying to keep her tone even.
"You recall Chancellor Olan, correct? And, Balmafula and Ramza and Delita's old squad mates from the Hokuten Academy?"
Agrias nodded. Though she was only barely acquainted with Balmafula, she'd known Ramza's old schoolmates nearly as long as Ramza himself. She also knew and respected Olan's keen wits and courage.
"Well, just after the first ball, Delita sent them off," Ovelia continued.
"Because?" Agrias asked.
"Well, that's just it, I don't know. And, neither does anyone else. I've asked everyone I could think of, and nobody has any idea what could be so urgent that Delita would send his own chancellor and six of his best knights to deal with it. …Agrias, what's wrong?"
It was not often that Agrias let her feeling show unbidden, which made this particular slip all the more eye-catching. Ovelia's brow furrowed, wondering what was going through her former bodyguard's mind.
Not for the first time, Ovelia wished she'd had, or learned, the wits to see whatever Agrias had presumably seen between the lines of what had been reported.
And, also not for the first time, she wished she'd shed the naivete of her younger years in time to at least see that the man she'd fallen in love with was dangerous. Especially to her.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Your Highness," Agrias said hastily. Too hastily, in Ovelia's opinion. "This is quite strange. How has he seemed around you, when you're alone?"
"Well, that's just it, Agrias. He and I haven't been alone for days. Outside of the balls, I've barely seen him at all for some time now. And, even then, he'll barely meet my eye. Something is wrong with him but, for the life of me, I cannot fathom what that might be. Even though I am his wife, he is simply so difficult to read."
"True," Agrias agreed, an odd hesitation in her voice. "Ramza is just the opposite, which makes me wonder how he and Delita ever became friends; they are like polar opposites."
"That may be true now, but maybe that wasn't always the case?" Ovelia mused. "I know they remained friends even after they were at odds with one another. Do you have any idea exactly when, or how, that started, Agrias?"
"I think I do…it was a personal tragedy that affected them both so much, and completely changed their outlook on life."
"So, you know…about Teta? Delita's younger sister?"
Agrias was startled. "Yes, how did you know?"
"Well, since you and Ramza have been together for a while, I figure he must have told you at one point."
"Well, not exactly," Agrias confessed. "As close as we are, even Ramza hesitated to tell me exactly what it was that made him and Delita drift apart. Ironically, it was Alma who told me. She and Teta had been close at one time. Didn't Alma ever mention her to you?"
"She mentioned having a close friend who died in a tragic accident before we met at Orbonne Monastery, but the pain was too near for her to feel comfortable going into detail."
"I can understand why. Did Delita ever tell you? I can't imagine him as being the sort who'd be open about his past with anyone, even you. No offense, of course."
Ovelia smiled and shook her head. "None taken. I can understand why you would think Delita would keep that part of his life hidden from everyone, including me. But you'd be surprised. I know I was when he finally told me why he held the nobility of Ivalice in such contempt and why he wanted to change the old system so badly."
"Because it was the callousness of one noble, and the lies of another, that cost his sister her life."
"Yes…but sadly, Delita seemed to forget that it was also a nobleman who took him in and raised him and Teta like his own children. And that Ramza and Alma treated them like their real siblings, even now. I was disappointed about that but at the same time, I was relieved and grateful that Delita was still willing to help Ramza and Alma. And of course, you…"
Agrias sighed. As much as she hated to admit it, if it wasn't for Delita, she too, would have been forced to go into hiding or remain on the run with Ramza for the rest of her life. And it would have certainly affected the life of their daughter as well. Not to mention Alma and her baby. Agrias supposed she did owe Delita that much at least. Even so, that still didn't mean she had to like or trust him.
Right now, she didn't. And, she had no idea when, or even if, that might change.
Especially regarding Ovelia, whose well-being still mattered to her, nearly as much as her own daughter's, even though she knew her former charge had the protection of many well-trained bodyguards.
Because the Queen of Ivalice was likely in more danger from the man whose ring she wore and whose bed she shared than any assassin who might strike from the outside.
"Ovelia, you know I only have your best interests at heart," she began, speaking cautiously. "If you cannot trust the very man to whom you've given your hand, you will very likely live your whole life in misery, fear, or both. If worst comes to worst, I really think you should leave Delita."
"You mean like a divorce? I fear something like that might cause quite a scandal."
Although Agrias thought an annulment of the royal couple's wedding might be the best option for Ovelia in the long run, she had to agree that it might have drastic short-term repercussions. While common amongst the lower classes, divorce was frowned upon and rare within the nobility. Further, there had only been one time in the history of Ivalice that a royal couple had gotten divorced, and it had been a sordid affair. A previous Ivalician King had a conflict of interest with the High Confessor, who also happened to be the uncle of his queen, whom he wanted to divorce so that he could marry his mistress instead.
Suffice to say, that had not been one of the finest chapters in Ivalician history.
"I know that a divorce might be a blow to your reputation, Ovelia," Agrias said, well aware of the understatement. "But don't you think that's a small price to pay for your safety and peace of mind? If it were me, I'd prefer that over the crown and all the wealth in the world."
"I do too. I really do, Agrias. But even if I wanted it, do you think Delita will agree to a divorce just like that, when his reputation could also be affected?"
"If he doesn't, then you can trust me to bring you someplace safe. I think that if Delita truly wanted to rule alone, without the complication of a divorce getting in the way, he may not protest or try to pursue you if you just disappeared. I'm sure the more…eccentric may wonder if he had a hand in your disappearance, but that's a chance I'm willing to take."
Knowing her old friend's dislike of her husband, Ovelia could not help but laugh at Agrias' valiant attempt at a joke. But her mirth proved brief and bittersweet, for the young queen had to consider it, if her husband did indeed become too dangerous for her to remain.
"Agrias, you don't have to go through all this trouble or put yourself at risk to protect me," she said gently. "I am no longer your charge or your responsibility, I'm not your problem."
Agrias shook her head. "I know. But I'm not suggesting this for any of those reasons. Even when you were under my care and protection, I thought of you as being more than just my charge. I consider you a dear friend. And I still do. I think of both you and Alma, as well as the Murry twins, as my younger sisters. And, I know there are others who feel the same."
"I understand. And I believe I also speak for Alma and the twins when I say we are grateful for your guidance and protection. But it's now time for you to worry about your own life, your husband, and of course, your new daughter."
The holy knight bit her lip when she realized her concern for Ovelia had made her forget her husband and daughter, albeit momentarily. Agrias was now married with a child, and couldn't just help Ovelia flee to safety like she did back before the war.
Agrias would remain loyal to Ovelia, likely unto death, but that did not change the fact that she had other responsibilities, and other lives, to consider.
"You're right, Ovelia. I guess it slipped my mind for a moment now."
"It's all right, Agrias. I'm happy you still care so much for me. But I think that your first priority now is to your husband and daughter. I'll be fine, so don't worry about me. If it makes you feel any better, you'll be the first person I send for if I find that I do need help."
Ordinarily, Agrias might've felt at ease after hearing her queen's words, finally able to relax, at least a little. But these were not ordinary circumstances. Indeed, Agrias wasn't even sure what the phrase meant anymore.
What she did know, however, what that it was possible that Delita's oddities might signify something worse than Ovelia thought.
Much, MUCH worse.
"That does make me feel better," Agrias said, hoping it sounded more convincing than it felt. "Thank you, Your Highness. Please don't hesitate to send for me if you need anything; you know I'm always here for you and I'll do everything in my power to ensure your safety and well-being."
"Of course, …by the way, would you like some dessert? There was this one Romandan dessert that I introduced Alma to not too long ago. It's called Bird's Milk Cake, if I'm not mistaken. Soft chocolate sponge cake layers with custard buttercream. Subtly sweet, but pleasingly so. I dare say, it had Alma drooling."
A sly smile crossed Ovelia's features and she coyly pointed at Agrias.
"Yes, just like that," she quipped, giggling.
Able to practically feel the blood running to her cheeks, Agrias clapped a hand to her mouth to find…absolutely nothing. Which sent Ovelia into gales of laughter.
Despite not appreciating the small prank, the holy knight had indeed found herself almost drooling at the mention of dessert, and had been worried that her sense of propriety might've slipped. During her pregnancy, she'd developed a number of cravings for sweets and other exotic fare, and it seemed they still hadn't dissipated even after Rachel's birth.
Which can be quite a pain sometimes.
However, since she was happy to finally have a moment alone with her old friend, especially when a smile had finally appeared on her face, Agrias decided to make an exception and indulge herself.
"I'd love to try it, Ovelia."
The young queen could not help laughing when she noticed how cute Agrias looked when she was offered dessert. Those rare, almost girlish smiles from Agrias were adorable and the stark contrast between her customary sternness was enough to lighten her spirits.
She hoped baby Rachel would have a smile just like it when she was older, and that it would have much the same effect on those around her.
"Of course."
SSSSSS
"One, two, three," Alma, who was seated at her vanity as she combed her hair, heard Charlotte whispering as she strode forward, a book balanced on her head and her arms spread like an aspiring tightrope walker learning the motions of the craft at a safe height…
…and clearly needing more practice.
"Oh!" Charlotte spluttered as the book toppled off her head and to the floor, the little girl trying vainly to catch it in midair.
An illicit giggle almost escaped Alma, but she swallowed it at the last second.
She still wasn't sure if Charlotte, who'd once been a favorite target for the more abusive children at the defunct workhouse, would feel differently now about being laughed at or whether those old wounds were still too tender. Erring on the side of caution, she instead said "Just keep practicing, you'll get better."
Maybe Charlotte was nervous about her seeming fumble happening where her lady could see it, or maybe she was still adjusting to her mistakes, however trivial, being greeted benignly. Either way, Charlotte gave a grateful nod and bent down to pick up her book…
…tried to, anyway.
Alma watched, her lips compressed into a thin, grim line, as Charlotte was stopped a few inches from the book by her belly which, owing to her newfound, and rather disconcerting, eating habits had gone from an emaciated husk to a burgeoning potbelly to a distended mass that sagged partway down her thighs and jiggled as she tried to get it out of the way.
If Alma didn't know better, she'd have assumed that Charlotte was one of those nigh-stereotypical noble's brats who'd be allowed a steady diet of junk food for the bargain price of a smile and stretching out the syllable "Please" to absurd length…only to pay the vastly higher price of overtaxed hearts, gallbladder disease, and deteriorating joints later in life.
The current resemblance between them and Charlotte was too close for Alma's tastes.
The thin, grim line became a frown. When Charlotte had first crept into Alma's life, it hadn't taken her long to see that although she, and Manon, had left behind the defunct workhouse where they'd been abandoned by church and state alike, some of the harm had lingered. With the two having been on the receiving end of abuse, be it disciplinary or spiteful, Alma had had to learn, quickly, how to strike a balance between keeping the pair on the straight and narrow while not frightening them off by being unduly harsh when admonishing them.
She had managed to accomplish that before, and even achieved some success when helping the young and hot-blooded Manon to refrain from letting his hands wander around the fairer sex. And, it seemed time to do so again.
By Alma's reckoning, Charlotte had gone from nigh-emaciated to glaringly overweight, and all in a matter of weeks. Not only that, but Alma had more than once caught a glimpse of Charlotte taking more, much more, from the dessert table set up during the balls than the two had agreed upon beforehand.
Impressing upon Charlotte the importance of keeping a promise could wait, however. Right now, Alma decided to start with the girl's health.
She still wasn't sure if she was acting as a surrogate older sister to the children or as a stepmother. But, either way, she had made a vow to do whatever she could for them and it was time to act upon it.
"Charlotte, could you please come over here?" she beckoned.
Charlotte had managed, barely, to get her dropped book back in hand, and the sight of the girl having to bend over sideways to do so since bending forward clearly wasn't feasible only reinforced Alma's assertion that this conversation needed to happen. At Alma's gesture, Charlotte seated herself upon a stool near the table, regarding her with an attentive smile.
Whether that was true affection for the woman who'd filled a sizable void in her life or if she'd caught wind of how some children tried to charm their way out of trouble, Alma couldn't say. But, since it wouldn't be changing her mind either way, it hardly mattered.
"I think you need to be more careful about what you eat, and how much," she said, making sure to use her now well-practiced tone that relayed serious intent couched in concern.
Perhaps Charlotte hadn't been planning to try and bluff her way out of a lecture after all, because she blinked in perplexity. A small hint of worry did cross the little girl's features, but Alma quickly disarmed it with her next words.
"I'm not upset, just concerned," she paused as Charlotte let out a sigh of relief. "I remember that first night back in Lionel Castle, where you ate so much it made you sick. And, we both know that wasn't the last time, was it?"
Whether it was at the thought of having disappointed her lady and benefactor or the recollection of belching in her face when Alma had tried to massage away Charlotte's engorgement, embarrassment tinged the girl's cheeks.
"Listen, I can understand," she said solemnly. "Back when you were at the workhouse, you went hungry often, didn't you?"
"Most of us did," Charlotte admitted unhappily. "The bigger, meaner kids usually got the food, and kept most of it for themselves. What they did let us have was never enough."
"I'm sorry you had to go through that. And, I can understand that it must've taken a while to get used to not having to live like that anymore. Believe me, before you and I met, before the war, I lived a very different life. And then, things changed. People I wanted to keep close were lost, I had to leave behind a place I once called home. And, for a while, it just wouldn't sink in that things were different. You've had times like that too, haven't you?"
More than once, Alma had had dreams where Teta's death had never happened, only to wake up and wonder if she'd ever get back that happiness she'd enjoyed in slumber. Though she didn't pry, she imagined Charlotte had had a nightmare or two where she was back in the workhouse, hungry and abused once more.
At the girl's nod, Alma pressed on.
"When that happens," she began, placing a comforting hand on the girl's shoulders, "keep in mind that you've got a lot of people now who care for you. People who like having you around and who are willing to lend an ear if you need to talk."
Here, she paused and, after a moment's deliberation, decided to come to the crux of the matter.
"And, those same people want you to be healthy. This," she paused to gesture at the girl's doughy, sagging belly, "is not healthy."
Was Charlotte cringing at the idea of not having three slices of cake after every dinner, or at Alma's seeming displeasure? It was sometimes hard to tell, but at least she didn't seem fearful.
"I've seen a few people who never control what they eat, at all, and it can catch up to them when they get older. You remember how sick you were that first night? Well, believe me, there are worse things that can happen for the same reason. Now, I'm not saying no sweets ever, but I am saying that you need to make sure you eat the right foods too. You remember those apples and pears that grow in the orchard near Lionel Castle?"
Hoping that Charlotte's mind didn't go directly to pies and custards, Alma continued.
"Those are tasty right off the tree, aren't they? Especially when they're ripe. They're also quite good for you. There are also plenty of vegetables you might enjoy. Asparagus might not look like much, but roast it with garlic and it's delightful."
Seeing she had Charlotte's attention, hopefully in the way she wanted, Alma pressed her advantage.
"You know how Manon's been eating his fruits and vegetables lately, along with meat and drinking milk? Well, if he wants to be a knight someday, he'll need to be big and strong," here, she paused and allowed a teasing edge to creep into her words. "And, he looks much better now, doesn't he?"
Charlotte blushed. Visibly.
"Well, eating healthy and keeping in shape will do that. I know I can't give you back the time you had in that workhouse, but I can help to make sure you can have a happier life from now on. Nobody's going to take away your place under my roof, or the food from your plate. We're happy to have you around, but sometimes we need to do things to make others happy, and I think you watching your health is just the thing for now."
Charlotte's brow furrowed and, after a long moment, she nodded.
"I'll do that, Lady Catherine," she said, with remarkable sincerity.
"I'll hold you to it," Alma replied, pulling the girl into a tight hug.
As Alma released the girl and turned back towards her mirror, as she sometimes did in recent weeks, she spoke to her baby.
Well, sort of.
Sometimes, she fancied that, when she used her mind to form the words, her baby could hear them. And, since the baby tended to kick when she did so, it was easy to believe the baby heard her. Maybe even understood.
Who knows? She mused. Maybe by the time you come along, I'll actually know what I'm doing.
Strangely, she felt as though the stirring beneath her ribs had a contradictory air.
What do you mean you don't think so? she thought to the burgeoning life in her womb. Don't be fooled; just because I can be kindly doesn't mean I'll tolerate backtalk.
The answering kick from the baby seemed somehow, inexplicably but positively, defiant.
"I never had to change Manon and Charlotte's diapers?" she somehow imagined being the baby's rebuttal. …you might have a point there, actually.
Despite some awareness that imagining her unborn child not only talking back to her but delivering a reasoned rebuke might be a bad sign about her soundness of mind, Alma nonetheless felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips.
Her family may have been bizarre, and the question of who was what within it was likely a genealogist's worst nightmare, but it was still her family and, whatever happened next, her baby would be surrounded by people who loved him. Or her.
Aside from a huge collection of aunts and uncles, blood-related and otherwise, her baby would also have a veritable army of older brothers and sisters, in the form of the orphans who'd been recruited to live and work in Lionel Castle.
And, perhaps Sir Damien would, indeed, be a part of that family.
"My lady, are you there?" a young female voice called from beyond the oak door leading out into the corridor.
Like the burgeoning Lady-In-Waiting she was, or would become soon enough, Charlotte hopped off her stool and hurried to the door. Deep in her own thoughts and heedless of the visitor, Alma began meditatively turning the ring Damien had given her, quickly becoming lost in her own thoughts. Prior to the – in some ways, welcome – distraction that Charlotte had provided, Alma had retired to her room to think over what she and Mustadio had discussed when he came to see her in the royal gardens.
She had no idea how Damien Mitchell might be connected to House Tingel, and could barely contemplate the question without a stab at her heart at the inevitable reminder of Izlude, but she knew she had to face the truth.
There was more to Damien than he chose to reveal, and she needed to know what if she was going to trust her heart to him.
"Oh, hello!" the voice said as Alma heard the door open, likely whomever was seeking entry greeting Charlotte. "Is Lady Catherine in?"
"Yes, she is," Charlotte replied politely. "Please come in."
"My lady, I bring a message from the Tingel household!" the voice said as the speaker drew closer.
Now that caught Alma's attention.
Although she would have preferred some time alone with her thoughts, Alma was curious as to what Meliadoul wanted to tell her. She also saw it as an opportunity to question the older woman about Damien and what connection he could possibly have with her family.
She felt no small amount of trepidation at the prospect, not only at having to face the memory of her lost love but also having to face the woman who'd nearly become her sister-in-law. Granted, her relationship with Mustadio had reportedly helped the divine knight to heal, but the memory of the cold-faced woman who'd grimly accepted Izlude's ring with nary a word was one Alma wished she could forget.
Yet, as she had affirmed, both to herself and Charlotte mere minutes ago, she had responsibilities to those she loved. And, they had to be fulfilled.
Rising from her table, Alma turned to see a young maid, not much older than Charlotte, holding a small silver platter upon which rested a sealed envelope. Upon closer inspection, Alma recognized the wax seal as the crest of the Tingel family.
"Thank you," Alma said, forcing a smile. "I apologize for the delay in answering. I was lost in my thoughts."
The maid gave a polite smile and bowed her head. "There is no need to apologize, my lady," she replied. "It is to be expected from a lady of your station who is soon to be wed."
Alma blushed. Damien had just barely proposed to her, and now the whole kingdom knew about it?
After pondering the thought for a moment, Alma realized how silly it was for her to find it surprising. At all. Of course, everyone would know by now. With the new printing press, not to mention Delita's rigorous promotion of the balls, it stood to reason that the news would spread across the whole kingdom like wildfire; much faster than even a few years ago, when news often took weeks to reach the entire populace.
Trying to ignore the blush she felt creeping up her cheeks, Alma accepted the letter when Charlotte dutifully took it and passed it to her. At Alma's nod, Charlotte fished a gold coin from the pouch that hung at the belt she'd, somehow, gotten around her paunch and quickly dropped it into the maid's hand.
"Quite dedicated, aren't you?" the maid commented with a smile.
"I'm going to be a Lady-In-Waiting for Lady Catherine when I'm older, so I need to practice," Charlotte replied proudly.
"I'd say she's in good hands."
"Thank you," Alma said, speaking both for herself and Charlotte. "But, please don't congratulate me yet. My engagement hasn't even been officially announced yet."
"Of course, Duchess Seymour. Forgive my impudence."
Alma shook her head and smiled at the young maid. She'd been about to dismiss her when she realized that the maid had unwittingly provided a way for Alma to finally find the answers she sought about her mysterious new fiancé.
"Please, do not worry yourself about it. I truly appreciate your thoughtfulness. By the way, may I ask a favor of you?"
"Of course."
"I know I should not ask, but can you please tell Her Highness, the Queen, that I have an important matter I must attend to and if she would be so kind as to have lunch with me another time? And if it's not too much of a bother, can you also send for Master Mustadio Bunanza as well? I wish for him to accompany me to the Tingel Manor when I answer this summons."
"Certainly. I will inform the queen and send for him at once."
"Thank you."
SSSSSS
After finishing a, perhaps unseemly, portion of the Bird's Milk Cake, Agrias and Ovelia continued to banter for some time, mostly about inconsequential matters with a few more important subjects, such as Alma hopefully getting married soon, mixed in. Ultimately, Agrias took her leave, relenting when Ovelia insisted on giving her a parting hug.
The moment the holy knight was well out of the young queen's sight, however, her smile fell away and her brow furrowed with consternation.
She'd had her doubts that Ovelia was happy being married to Delita, but what she'd heard of the man's recent oddities now had her fearing the situation might be even worse than she'd expected.
And, she had expected it to be very, very bad.
That Delita went to great lengths to make sure that every success in the reconstruction was indelibly stamped as being his handiwork was only to be expected. For all his carefully cultivated image as a beneficent and angelic monarch, she'd long suspected that he was every bit as prideful and egotistical as those he'd scorned. His taking an, exceedingly, active role in the governance of his kingdom, in stark contrast to the late King Omdolia III who delegated such matters to his wife out of a weakness of will and body alike, furthered the impression in Agrias' mind of Delita's lust for adulation, as did the new king working to connect with even the humblest within the castle walls.
Yes, these things were to be expected, as were how they'd likely worked wonders for ingratiating Delita to the populace.
The recent oddities, and drastic shifts, in his behavior, however, were not expected.
And, given how Delita had always seemed so focused on his ambitions and schemes, it seemed doubtful that he would mold himself in such a way that might undermine his image.
Yet, as Ovelia had put it, it was as if Delita had become a different man.
In a dark corner of her mind, wherein nightmares of the past were ensconced behind walls of mental discipline, was the possibility that Ovelia might've been more right than she knew.
Following the battle against the Lucavi Zalera, when Meliadoul had first joined with Ramza's band and where Rafa and Malak had had their first glimpse of a Lucavi Demon in the flesh…scales…whatever, all three had promptly come to her wanting to know just what the hell (she still cringed at the accidental pun they'd used) they were up against.
How they'd listened without choosing to desert, she still didn't know.
Regardless, she had told them of how the Lucavi needed their vessels, the Zodiac Stones, to pass to a compatible host, typically a deeply troubled soul, in order to take possession. She then relayed what she'd known of Cardinal Alphons Draclau, Weigraf Folles, and Marquis Mesdoram Elmdor, both before and after they'd been possessed. This had quickly caught Meliadoul's attention, as she reluctantly added that her father, Vormav Tingel, had become volatile, temperamental, quick to anger, and prone to violent outbursts following the death of his wife…and a curious crystal being given to him by the High Confessor.
This recollection had caused a, deeply troubling, pattern to take form in the holy knight's mind. Quickly, she parsed through the evidence.
Over the past few days, Delita, once an active and outgoing man, had become increasingly withdrawn, shying away from once common interactions with those he'd taken pains to charm.
No less peculiar, where once he'd let no scrap of credit slip past him, he now seemed to be practically avoiding the limelight.
While Agrias had considerable doubts about any professions of love Delita might have for Ovelia, she doubted that any attempts to manipulate her would involve him suddenly beginning to avoid her for days on end.
While these could be dismissed and any number of reasonable explanations offered, there were two things that, to Agrias' mind, made the possibility of innocuousness seem quite remote indeed.
The first was that Delita had sent away Olan, Balmafula, Raffe, Francis, Abel, Wynefreede, Mydrede, and Emery, all of whom were formidable combatants, well aware that Delita needed watching, and who could practically shadow him at all hours. And, no one seemed to know just where they'd been sent or why.
The second was that the missing Zodiac Stone, the Pisces Stone, had by now repeatedly crossed Delita's doorstep.
The direst – and, Agrias feared, the most likely – explanation settled into her gut like a load of cold, hard lead.
Delita had suddenly stopped monopolizing the credit for Ivalice's reconstruction and had abruptly begun shoving his subordinates into the limelight?
A Lucavi Demon would care little for fame and adulation, and would instead want time and distance from the public eye in order to conduct his machinations.
Delita had been letting his mind wander during council meetings and was no longer a social butterfly amongst the help.
A Lucavi Demon would care nothing about this month's economic forecasts or that butler's son getting into art school.
Delita had gone for days, at least, while barely sharing a room with Ovelia, let alone a bed?
From what Agrias had heard, a Lucavi Demon could not even imitate love, so why would he undertake something as laborious as mending a deeply troubled marriage?
Delita had sent Olan, Balmafula, and his and Ramza's old squad mates on some mysterious errand that no one seemed to know anything about?
Of those on the, already quite short, list of people who knew Delita needed to be watched, those people were the only ones who were around Delita practically at all hours and were the only ones in the castle who had a fair chance of slaying a Lucavi Demon in combat. So, sending them off to who-knows-where for who-knows-how-long to do who-knows-what would seem a sensible precaution for a Lucavi Demon to take.
Add that troubling pattern to a Zodiac Stone already passing close to Delita, who'd already been acting strangely even beforehand, and the holy knight had every reason and then some to fear the worst.
For now, she would find Ramza, and whomever else of their band was near to hand, and relay what she had learned. From there, they'd need to devise a course of action.
By chance, her urgent trek took her past the castle's chapel, wherein a number of young men and women were being inducted into the Order of the Chimera, another brainchild of Delita to cement his vision of his own righteousness. Agrias caught snatches of the knightly vow being recited by the neophytes, which had undergone some clever alterations since Delita took the throne, but which nonetheless retained the tradition conclusion:
"God Save the King!"
The irony of it – ironies, actually – hit Agrias like a slap across the mouth.
If Delita had, indeed, been subverted by the Lucavi, then not only was he irrevocably removed from God's saving grace but, king or no, if Delita had been subverted….
…then Delita must die, she concluded grimly.