Chapter 6: Of Merchants and Murders

The oldest cities of Ivalice follow a certain order. They are built along Ydoran frameworks, and the Ydorans had a gift for architectural planning that was not rediscovered until the time of King Delita. Dorter lacks such careful organization. It was not chosen because it was a suitable location for a city. How could it be? Located somehow betwixt shale hills, a dour bay, and a rancorous swamp, it is even now a nightmare of a place to live, a patchwork of careful luxury and disordered slum. It was founded because, during the chaos of the Fall, it was convenient to the wealthy interests of Ivalice to meet there rather than risk the long trek to their respective seats of power. East of Gallione and Murond, south of Fovoham and Zeltennia, west of Limberry and north of Lionel. It was a place where the rich got richer while the poor scrabbled in the mud. Such a place made an ideal recruiting ground for rebels across history, such as the Death Corps...

-Alazlam Durai, "A Sociological, Economic, and Political Encyclopedia of the Cities of Ivalice"

Ramza rapped out two slow knocks upon the door. He waited a moment, then rapped out three knocks in quick succession. When no one answered, he slipped his key into the door, turned the lock, and slipped inside.

They had been in Dorter a little less than a week, but the room seemed like it had held them for longer than that. There were only two small beds inside and two bedrolls on the floor, and for the sake of fairness the four men rotated between them. For convenience, each man had his own corner to keep his stuff, but between them they had still managed to leave trash and old food on tables and shelves and on the floor itself. Perhaps the innkeep could have dealt with it, if they had not given strict, expensive instructions to leave their room alone.

One more frustration, in a city fully of them.

They had set out from Igros late into the night, all still a little too drunk to manage their chocobos, Ramza's head full of his warnings of panthers. He swore he had seen one keeping even pace with them, perhaps trying to decide if they were easy prey or not. They had rested sparingly, driven on by Argus' desperation. Ramza was not entirely sure the Limberry squire had slept during the four days' hard riding that had brought them and their exhausted mounts to Dorter.

From his first glimpse, Dorter had made Ramza nervous. Dorter was a sprawling anarchy, the guarded palaces of minor nobles and wealthy merchants, the rows of stalls and vendors with their own armed attendants, the diseased tenements where the vast mass of Dorter's population tried to eke out some form of a living. The exhausted, saddlesore men had riden through the crowded streets, eyes wide and searching. Igros was nothing like this. No place Ramza had seen was like this.

Six days later, and Ramza felt still more unsettled.

The four of them had no real plans when they'd set off from Igros: just Zalbaag's words and what little they could piece together. A spy for the Hokuten had gone missing in Dorter, and that had to somehow be connected to the Marquis. Now, they had to find out how.

In the end, they had decided to each play a role they thought themselves best suited for. They had gotten this room on the edge of town, paid extra for a guarantee of privacy, and made sure to move on their own so no one would suspect they were colluding.

To be honest, Ramza had thought to crack this thing in the first day or two. With his nicer clothes and his brother's sack of money, he had played the agent of an up-and-coming Igros merchant looking to break into Dorter. The lie did not come easily to him, which Delita thought was a good thing. Delita believed that, if Ramza appeared naïve and unsure, men might speak more freely in his presence, hoping to cow, awe, take advantage of, or intimidate him. It was not exactly a flattering picture, but all Ramza wanted to do was find the spy in question.

He hadn't managed that. What he had managed was to be warned off by friendly aides and vendors. This was not a good time to break into the Dorter markets: word had it that the Death Corps was shaking down merchants, particularly ones dependent on the convoys and caravans. The Corps levied a "common tax" for use of the "common roads." Those who did not pay could not guarantee the safety of their cargo.

"Rank banditry!" Argus had snarled.

"Yes, it is," Delita agreed. "And not what the Corps is supposed to do."

"They're common criminals," Argus hissed.

"These are," Delita said, nodding. "But why would a group that wants the support of the people threaten them like this? No, this is a short-sighted move. It's not Corps' practice or policy. But it's just the kind of thing people who want to ransom the Marquis would do."

That had all been during their first day of inquiry, and Ramza thought they might find their man by the second. That had been absurdly optimistic, as he had discovered: most who were actually willing to talk just repeated some version of the story. The rest tried to lure Ramza into bribing them, or attempted to scam him out of his gil. Six days later, and he had nothing to show for it but a slightly lighter moneybag.

There was a knock at the door—two knocks, a pause, then three faster knocks. Ramza moved to the door and swung it open, admitting a dour Argus.

"No luck?" Ramza said.

"Luck!" spat Argus.

"I'll take that as a no," Ramza sighed.

Argus slunk into a chair. Given that there was no chance of hiding his Limberry brogue, they'd decided it was best for Argus to play with his cards face up: a man of the Marquis' retinue now charged with seeing him safely back home. He was authorized to pay the ransom, if he could find the man. He was also authorized to kill any citizens of Gallione he had to.

"The Limberry merchants don't know anything," growled Argus. "Except that there's talk of war in Limberry."

"War?" Ramza said. "With who?"

"With the Corps," grunted Argus. "With the Hokuten. With the Crown. It'll come to nothing and the in the meantime no one does anything."

"And the rest?" Ramza said.

"No one wants to piss off these common bastards," Argus said, shaking his head. "They worry more about the Corps than the Crown. It's a bad state, Ramza."

No arguing that. If the people of Ivalice could not trust the Crown to protect them, how could they feel safe? How could they believe in the people who were supposed to keep them safe, when the Corps could disguise themselves as knights, kidnap the Marquis, and slaughter his escort without reprisal? How could justice ever be served?

The door burst open. Ramza dove at once for his sword, while Argus rolled backwards out of his chair and grabbed at his bow, an arrow already nocked.

"It's fine!" Beowulf shouted, with a cloth pack pressed to his face. "It's me!"

Ramza and Argus glared at him. "You are supposed to knock!" shouted Argus.

"Waste of time," Beowulf said, sinking into a chair on the other side of the room.

"No, it's not," Ramza said. "Delita explained this." The knock was supposed to be their way of guaranteeing each others' identities, and possibly each others' lives. If someone learned who they were and what they were after, they would have to learn the knock as well, and that would require keeping anyone they captured alive.

"Look," Beowulf said. "If they've captured me, you bastards were dead weeks ago."

"Whatever you say, Wulfie," Ramza said.

Beowulf glared at Ramza. Argus cleared his throat loudly.

"Oh, what!" Beowulf yelled, whirling to face him.

"Any. News?" Argus asked, through gritted teeth.

"Oh, sure," Beowulf said. "'Nother one of those killings. Family's added their bounty to the pot, so it's up to 1200 gil."

"1200?" Ramza said. "What riches. That's enough to keep this room for two whole nights."

"These aren't exactly rich families, Ramza," Beowulf said.

"I know." He stared off into space, thinking. Dorter was never peaceful at the best of times, but word had it that there had been a string of killings lately, men struck down in dark alleys or abandoned hovels.

Ramza's distant eyes found Beowulf's bruised face. "You got into another fight?"

Beowulf scowled. "The bartender wouldn't believe me."

"That's because you look like a fifteen year-old running away from his dad," Ramza said. Beowulf had insisted on playing the role of a bounty hunter, which had led less to information and more to a series of fights and brawls whenever anyone expressed disbelief in Beowulf's story.

"I know about the murders," Beowulf said.

"What about them?" Ramza said. "That they happened?"

"More than that!" Beowulf said defensively. "These were executions. All sword wounds, real precise. Someone's taking these guys out."

"Could be the Corps," Argus said.

"Could be," Beowulf said.

"Or it could be unrelated," Ramza said. "As far as we know, this has nothing to do with the Marquis."

There was a knock on the door: two slow knocks, a pause, and then three knocks in quick succession. Ramza set down his sword and pulled the door open: Delita stepped through, his sword at his side. Like Argus, Delita's story required little in the way of disguise.

He glanced wryly at Beowulf. "Another fight, Wulfie?" he asked.

Beowulf shrugged, and Delita shook his head. "None of you," he observed. "Are any good at this."

"And you're too good," Argus said. "Should the rest of us be worried?"

"Why?" Delita asked. "Am I about to be discharged without pay?" He looked at Ramza.

"How could I do such a thing?" Ramza asked. "We don't pay you."

"See?" Delita said. "You're safe, Argus." He leaned against a wall, his arms folded across his chest.

"Any news?" Argus asked, his voice acerbic.

"Well, that depends," Delita said. "Nothing new, exactly. But some interesting bits and pieces that look a little different now."

"How do you mean?" Ramza asked. Delita had chosen to play a bitter former member of a noble's staff, looking for revenge after the mistreatment of his father. He went by his real name and advertised his military training. Delita figured that would make him look more attractive to the Corps, although the idea seemed to make Argus awfully nervous.

But few men and women were foolish enough to express their support for the Corps, even to a would-be recruit. Delita had gone to any bar or meeting that would have him, but had been largely unsuccessful in making any contacts. The Marquis' kidnapping had sent most Corps supporters to ground. No one wanted to be caught between the Hokuten and the knights of Limberry.

"Stop fucking around and tell us!" shouted Argus.

"Argus!" Ramza exclaimed.

Delita watched Argus impassively. Argus was breathing heavily, his face red.

"Sorry," Argus said. "Please."

"It's not much," Delita said. "Just trying to make everything fit. You know how many commanders the Corpse Brigade had?"

"Wiegraf Folles," Argus said. "The commoner who would be king."

"The commoner who would kill all kings," amended Delita. "But that doesn't matter to us. Wiegraf commanded the bulk of the Corpse Brigade, but had two chief lieutenants. His sister, Miluda, led an all-women unit called the Valkyries. The other was a man named Gustav Margueriff."

"Gustav?" Ramza repeated.

"He operated behind the Ordallian lines," Delita said. "Making it hard for them to get supplies, fomenting rebellion in the territory they'd occupied. The forces of Limberry might not have held out without them."

"And that gives them the right to hurt their lord?" Argus snarled.

"Argus!" Ramza said again. "Calm yourself!"

"I wasn't defending them," Delita said. "I was explaining. You have to understand your enemy if you hope to defeat them."

"And what does this history lesson tell us?" Argus growled.

"Well," Delita said. "All three were discharged without pay, as were their followers. That was when they led the Brigade into rebellion. That was when they became the Death Corps."

"And?" Argus demanded.

"Wiegraf's been hounding Igros and Lesalia," Delita said. "Using the old forts along the Lenalian Mountains and the Fovoham Plateau. Gives him lots of chances to disrupt the nobility. The Valkyries are supposed to be in Mandalia, harassing Hokuten patrols, making it impossible for them to gather their strength. So where's Gustav?"

"I take it you know?" Argus said.

"No idea," Delita said.

"Then why bring it up?" Argus yelled.

"Aargus!" Ramza shouted again, rising from his chair.

"No, Ramza!" Argus roared, whirling to face him. "They will execute the Marquis if we don't find him! And what are we doing? Wasting time talking to merchants and playing pretend. Or is it pretend, Delita?" Argus glared at the other man, still impassive on the wall.

"How many men have been killed now?" Delita asked, staring at Argus.

"How..." Argus trailed off, his glare softened by confusion.

"Uh, six," Beowulf said, his eyes flickering between the other men.

"Six," Delita said. "I wonder if one of them was Zalbaag's spy?"

Silence in the room. Ramza and the others glanced between them.

"What are you saying?" Ramza asked.

"I think I'm piecing something together," Delita said. "Six men, each killed very precisely. Executed, one might say. Why? I think it was because that knew too much."

"Too much about what, Delita?" Ramza said. In spite of his admonishments to Argus, he was beginning to feel aggravated himself. Why was his friend insisting on being so enigmatic?

Delita shook his head. "Like I said. I'm figuring this out. We know the Corps is here, shaking down merchants for protection fees. Let's leave the fact that that's not what the Corps' is supposed to do: someone's doing it. So why haven't we run into them? We're all over this city. One way or another, we should have heard something. But the only thing we know for sure is that the six men are dead. Executed."

Ramza's annoyance was gradually draining away. He felt like he almost understood what Delita was aiming at. He could see the pieces clicking together.

"Six men are dead," Ramza repeated. "Executed."

"Just as the Corps seems to have disappeared from Dorter," Delita said. "After a series of shakedowns that violate Corps' policy. After the Marquis was kidnapped. And we don't know where Gustav Margueriff is, do we?"

"The men that took the Marquis...the men threatening the merchants..." Ramza thought to himself. "They're the same?"

"And they're gone," Delita said. "Except for these dead men."

"What does that matter?" Argus growled. "Dead men don't talk."

"No," Delita said. "But their living friends do."

Argus's mouth dropped. "What?"

"The man who died last night-" Delita started.

"Erik," Beowulf interrupted. "Erik Fulke."

"Erik," Delita continued. "He had a friend. Ivan Mansel. But wouldn't you know it, Ivan's gone missing."

"You think Ivan killed Erik?" Beowulf asked.

"I don't know," Delita said. "But I spoke with his mother, and I do know that Ivan and Erik used to play at a little hovel on the outskirts of the slums. Their little fort. And I heard from a man at a bar that Ivan used to host pro-Corps meetings there."

Argus' mouth dropped. "You...you don't think..."

"I think we've had no answers," Delita said. "And I think we've earned some. Don't you?"

Argus nodded jerkily. "Delita," he said. "I'm sorry."

"It's nothing, Argus," Delita said. "If it were Ramza that had been taken, you think I'd be acting any different?"

"I'll be sure to get kidnapped next time," Ramza said. "See you put your money where your mouth is." From the corner of his eye, he saw a strange look pass over Argus' face, but it was gone as swiftly as it had come.

"What money?" Delita said. "You don't pay me."

Ramza moved to his sword, but hesitated. "Delita," he began. "You said we shouldn't all leave together."

"I did," Delita said. "But I have it on good authority that Ivan Mansel had supplies delivered to that hovel last week. If he's anywhere-"

"Then what are we waiting for!" Argus exploded.

"Not a damn thing," Delita said, and the four men set out into the night in pursuit of the first real lead they'd had since they left Igros.