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016 » it's a shot in the dark but i'll make it
( continued from here! )
[mornings, in ramza's camp, move both early and sluggish.
as dashing and heroic as it would be to simply run off to zeltennia, a party of roughly twenty men and women can do no such thing. a few well-trained soldiers rise before the crack of dawn; the others wake as the sky brightens, or else, because the sound and chatter of those that are packing to leave become impossible to ignore.
ramza and agrias are two of the precious few "heretics" that are up before sunrise, and they set to work immediately, with little conversation to spare. armor has to be put on, strapped, buckled; blankets must be packed, tents folded into canvas squares. ladd and mustadio join in the morning chores a bit later, taking stock of the party's food and water; rapha and marach, more keenly trained, work at concealing all traces of their tents and campfires in case anyone may be following their trail. alicia and lavian, the sentries from last night, are apparently being rewarded with the privilege of napping astride the pack chocobos while the others saddle the birds up with luggage and gear.
it's only later — when almost everything has been done, and the group is mostly waiting on some fastidious healers who insisted on washing themselves of last night's dirt in a nearby stream — that ramza realizes he hasn't yet seen the group's wayward knight templar, and raises his voice in the middle of camp.]
Isilud?
[mornings, in ramza's camp, move both early and sluggish.
as dashing and heroic as it would be to simply run off to zeltennia, a party of roughly twenty men and women can do no such thing. a few well-trained soldiers rise before the crack of dawn; the others wake as the sky brightens, or else, because the sound and chatter of those that are packing to leave become impossible to ignore.
ramza and agrias are two of the precious few "heretics" that are up before sunrise, and they set to work immediately, with little conversation to spare. armor has to be put on, strapped, buckled; blankets must be packed, tents folded into canvas squares. ladd and mustadio join in the morning chores a bit later, taking stock of the party's food and water; rapha and marach, more keenly trained, work at concealing all traces of their tents and campfires in case anyone may be following their trail. alicia and lavian, the sentries from last night, are apparently being rewarded with the privilege of napping astride the pack chocobos while the others saddle the birds up with luggage and gear.
it's only later — when almost everything has been done, and the group is mostly waiting on some fastidious healers who insisted on washing themselves of last night's dirt in a nearby stream — that ramza realizes he hasn't yet seen the group's wayward knight templar, and raises his voice in the middle of camp.]
Isilud?
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they rode in pairs instead of triplets, because ladd and the others are still away in gollund, and mustadio and isilud have gone ahead. the missing members thin their numbers more than ramza would like. they were already short on healers — now he has only the galthena siblings and some members of their artillery (mages and archers, mingled) to strategize with. but, at a distance, agrias had noticed something amiss with the gates; they sent rapha and marach to scout ahead, on foot, concealed in the shadows.
the netherseer is the first to report, enshrouded in the faint glow of teleportation magick. "it is as we feared," are his first ominous words, as he drops to one knee and lowers his head. "we will not find free passage through the gates. all who would enter bervenia are being stopped and searched — it is no secret that they seek ramza beoulve."
rapha returns not long after, materializing like rain upon grass. "the high confessor's knights, by the look of them," she adds to marach's observations. she does not kneel on first instinct, but she takes her brother's cue once she sees it. "there is a woman at the western gates who wears the hood of the templarate. 'tis forest green, as isilud's was. she must be the sister of whom he spoke."
ramza frowns at the news, crossing his arms and leaning heavily on boco's flank. "then he did not meet with her?" he wonders aloud, brows furrowed.
agrias's assessment is characteristically cynical. she is not smiling — then again, she rarely is. "or he did, and they now make to ensnare us, with mustadio held captive for bait."
marach, oddly, is the first to speak in isilud's defense. "i think it more like that he failed to persuade her, and she has killed him or taken him captive," he offers, quietly. his dark eyes do not lift from the grass beneath his feet.
it is the first time in a long while that marach has actively expressed an opinion.
ramza casts his eyes toward boco's tailfeathers. he is seething with anger, but the anger is for himself, and not for anyone else. he should have never allowed this. he should have never agreed to let isilud make the journey on his own, or even with mustadio in tow — it was his softness, his vulnerability, that relented. but regrets are worthless and anger is even more so, and he has to find it within himself to let go of his emotions, to think with a logical mind. he wants to yell, he wants to shout, he wants to curse — but the only expletive to come to mind is fiddlesticks, and that doesn't quite seem appropriate.
finally, he sighs and unfolds his arms; he drops to rapha's and marach's level. "you two may rise, if you wish," ramza says, his voice gentle, his gaze warm. "i surely need not remind you that you are free — free of the grand duke, for now and for ever, and you need not fear retribution from any who were once under his employ. you need not kneel before me, nor before anyone else."
"i kneel because i respect you, ramza," is the netherseer's stubborn reply — and, flustered, ramza gives up, and pushes himself to his feet.
"nevertheless, we must enter bervenia," the beoulve continues, casting his gaze in the direction of the western gate.
"you would storm the gates with so few men to reinforce your charge?" agrias asks, but her tone is not disapproving — merely doubtful, and reasonably so. "we cannot even know whether mustadio is truly being held captive! suppose he is not — would he not be waiting for you at the eastern gates? we could simply try to ride around the city, and strike there."
"it would take too long. western or eastern gates — no matter where we fight, the battle will likely cause a commotion. if mustadio and isilud are yet free, they will make our way to us." sensing uncertainty, ramza tries to rally his troops to his cause. "we did well with a smaller group at orbonne, did we not? we simply must be careful."
rapha stands, helping her brother to his feet. "ramza is right. we have no other options — unless you would abandon our companions inside the city. but i'd not place any value in trying to sway isilud's sister with your words. she wore the anger of a woman in mourning."
(not all in ramza's group share his boundless idealism. the blond man who has designated himself the leader of the artillery unit in mustadio's absence is a minor noble from gallione, who knows ramza from his time at the gariland akademy — a former knight-apprentice, still young though he is older than ramza, older than isilud and marach and all the others in their group of boys-turned-men by some twist of desperate fate. he has seen ramza at his weakest, his most naive. to him, ramza is more of a responsibility than a friend, sometimes, and now is one of those times — but he is willing to play the role of demon, if it is for ramza's sake; he is willing to sin that ramza's hands might remain clean.
"be careful, he says," the young noble murmurs, sarcasm darkening his velvety tenor. "of course, you know what that truly means. we give them no quarter. strike to kill, and be quick about it."
his subordinates nod assent. it does not mean they do not love ramza; rather, it means they love him too much. they are pragmatic. they've had to be.)
when they ride to the western gates, ramza does not announce himself. he allows himself to be noticed, as is his wont.]
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But her composure is restored as quickly as it faltered, or at the least, she buries her sorrow, cloaking it in a thick shroud of hatred for her brother's murderer. That hatred burns hotter than Mount Bervenia's molten core, stoked into an inferno upon observing the heretic's audacity, to tread the ground where Saint Ajora once walked — this soulless devil wearing a child's face. Indeed, the sight of his face alone fuels her anger; rumours painted Ramza Beoulve a fiend, but the fiend hides behind an angel's mask. The handbills capture his likeness well only in that they give his spaulders their menacing spikes.
This was Isilud's last sight to look upon in this world.
"Ramza Beoulve!" Meliadoul calls, as soon as the man in question comes within earshot. He deserves no courtesy, no explanation, but there is one thing that she will force him to reveal while he yet draws breath. Behind her, the archers nock their arrows. "I am Meliadoul Tengille! You took my brother's life, and now my blade will end yours!"
She unsheathes it. ]
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(ramza's archers offer meliadoul no such courtesy. they, too, nock their arrows. all silently find their targets. all know that ramza's attempts at mediation will fail. even so, they do not take aim — yet.)
boco's talons rake the earth impatiently.]
I am not your brother's killer!
[the words come out more aggressively than he intends — he would say it gently, quietly, but with meliadoul on the parapets, he has no choice but to yell.]
Isilud is not dead! He came with me to Bervenia — he chose to ride ahead because he wished to speak with you!
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"You dare come here to lie? Is it not enough that you left us no body to recover? Now you would seek to blacken his soul like yours?" Arm outstretched, she points the tip of her blade at Ramza; no more than that, not yet. "My brother would never betray his family, nor his faith! I will ask it but once, Ramza: what have you done with him?"
The need to know stays her hand, for now, eclipsing her desire to expose this heretic's true face, his thirst for chaos, before she makes good on the vow she swore to Isilud and the threat that was her greeting for House Beoulve's godless son. ]
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I have done nothing to him! He is in Bervenia, searching for you now alongside a dear friend of mine!
[logical appeals had not worked well against isilud at orbonne monastery; suspecting much the same for meliadoul, ramza tries an emotional appeal.
(behind him, his mages grip their staves.)]
He told me you were as the earth to his sky — that you kept him grounded, that we could trust you, if we had but the chance to explain ourselves! We mean you no harm!
[no, isilud had not been quite so lyrical, perhaps, but such is the impression that ramza received...]
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"You mean me no harm?" Her voice is quiet at first, but from there, it rises in volume. "You have done me harm beyond repair, and still you do more!" Meliadoul's free hand makes a fist, and she pounds it against the stone parapet. "Pray tell, Ramza, when did you and Isilud speak as friends? When Wiegraf fell? When you spilled my brother's blood? You would have me believe him a traitor and my father a liar!" Once more, her fist and the barrier meet. Barely pausing for breath, she launches her verbal counterattack in a torrent to refute Ramza's claims.
"I saw Riovanes. Among the scores of corpses that we came upon, we found your taunts — the scant remains you left behind. Tattered cloth and mangled plate, and you feign innocence! My brother's Stone was—" Suddenly, her arms lower. "Know you which one he held?" ]
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Pisces — [the word is out of his mouth before he can stop himself] — he held Pisces, but — the Stones are not the holy relics you think them, Meliadoul!
Isilud is alive. He has not betrayed Ivalice, no, nor has he betrayed you — but your father has!
[the grip around his blade loosens. he presses his sword hand against his chest, to indicate an earnest plea.]
You will not believe me, I know. But this I must tell you, lest he take you unawares. Folmarv cannot be trusted! He is not the man you knew! Within the auracite lie imprisoned the Lucavi of legend, and they would see Ivalice in chaos! They walk among us, demons given flesh, and your father is host to one of them. It was he who bloodied the halls of Riovanes!
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Meliadoul draws herself up. "Atone for your sins, Ramza. Demons walk among us, I see it well, though you play the purehearted saint in the making. Your disciples you may send hence, but if you possess a scrap of honour, you will stay and you will face me. Draw your blade!" ]
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[ramza's tone is steel upon steel, harsh and passionate.]
If you would have me draw my blade and begin this battle, then I will not draw it. No one needs to die this day, Meliadoul. I seek nothing in Bervenia. I wish only to find my friends within her walls.
[boco paws the ground again, fluttering impatiently, but ramza holds his reins tight, and the bird is not fool enough to disobey orders. agrias no doubt has her uncertainties as well, but she keeps her hand on her blade and her eyes trained on the soldiers at the gates, unblinking, ready to strike at a moment's notice.
all are ready. all are waiting.
the young noble from gallione flicks his cloak over his shoulder.]
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Sagittarius disappears between folds of fabric again.
"Your companions need not follow you to their deaths. Consider this my offer of mercy." As proof, Meliadoul lifts her hand, this time to signal for her soldiers to stand down. "Undeserving you may be, but I would have us cross blades in a fair duel." ]
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but it cannot be helped, and he cannot be percieved to be coveting the stone here; he pushes all thoughts of demons and their prisons away from the forefront of his mind.]
And if I win?
[soft-spoken and angelic though he may be, ramza meets meliadoul's challenge with a sword-saint's confidence.]
If I win, will you grant us a peaceable passage?
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"I will grant your followers passage," she replies evenly. "They are free to go, no matter the outcome of our duel. If you win, I go to my brother, my vow unfulfilled." Her hand returns to her blade, fingers settling around its grip. "But you will not win. This day is your last, Ramza!"
Meliadoul Tengille is no fool, but this amount of confidence she will permit herself to show. ]
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[agrias is the first to intervene. "ramza!" she cries, her voice dipped in a near-growl. "you would trust her in this?"
the beoulve's response is a gentle smile. "even if you do not," he replies, "won't you trust me in this?"
(agrias looks dubious, even as ramza gracefully dismounts and walks closer to the ramparts — but even so, she takes hold of boco's reins, leading him and her own bird toward the far end of the field where their archers are waiting.
the blue-eyed blond watches the proceedings with crossed arms. "be at ease, lady agrias," he murmurs, with generous warmth. "we all know ramza is not infallible. of course i have seen him defeated: i have seen him cornered, injured — even crying, once or twice. but in all my years of knowing him, milady, i have never seen him lose a one-on-one duel.")
on his feet with meliadoul above him, ramza draws his blade. no doubt the divine knight will take some satisfaction in it — it is hard and unyielding and edged in dark metal, like the menacing spikes of ramza's armor, and it is distinctly at odds with his innocent face. he runs his gloved hand along its length, as is his usual custom; his eyes lower as if in prayer, then rise once more to meliadoul's face.
she will have to come down from the gates; clearly, he is not about to scale the wall.]
You may have the first strike.
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A fair duel is their agreement. She bows her head, turning silently to the gods, straightens to her full height, and descends to Ramza's level. The earth beneath her soles once more, she lifts her sword and invokes its holy strength.
Then, with a ferocity born of grief and rage and loathing combined, Meliadoul lunges at Ramza. ]
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he plays an evasive game for the first few exchanges of their blades. ramza does not take the offensive even when he has opportunity to do so; instead, he blocks, he dodges, he sidesteps like a dancer. he has no quarrel with isilud's sister. how, then, should he bring her to surrender without causing undue harm?
he has time to think about that. the problem now, ramza figures, is how he's going to deal with her holy sword techniques when they come. he's had scant few opportunities to practice against agrias.]
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Isilud's face flashes across her memory, and she sets her jaw.
Furiously, she redoubles her strikes, her efforts concentrated on forcing Ramza's weapon from his fingers. The sword-thrusts skirt the border of carelessness, savage and frenzied. Meliadoul's blade seems alight.
Elsewhere, Mustadio has found his way to Bervenia's church. ]
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[as if somehow reading her intent, ramza holds on to his blade even more tightly, employing a two-handed blocking maneuver that withstands the force of meliadoul's blows at the cost of placing his fingers in some danger. naturally, he draws his hand back to his side after he has ducked out of the reach of her onslaught.
things would be simpler if this were a battle he wished to win. he could settle it as he did with paul's companion: swiftly, quickly, mercilessly.
it would be nice if he could simply strike a lethal blow.
but being elegant hasn't gotten him anywhere in the past few minutes.
and, somewhere between another swift sidestep and an even swifter parry, a thought occurs to ramza. a foolish thought. a thought so stupid, and so silly, and so reckless that, really, delita would laugh if he were there to see it, and zalbaag would groan and plant his face in his hands, and bemoan the death of the fair fight, and dycedarg might even smile at the sheer audacity of his common half-brother — something so dumb and distinctly ramza that he cannot resist the impulse to do it —
ramza reaches out and grasps one end of meliadoul's blade, harmlessly, making as if to forcibly wrench it out of her hands with a strength not commonly found in a man with his slight frame —
elsewhere, a hooded figure stoops by the streamside, laying a hand on the grass where ramza once slept.]
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Meliadoul feints a low strike from one side, but twists and directs her blade to seek Ramza's arm. She will puncture every protective layer he wears, she vows, and draw blood. Then, surely, Ramza's tactics will change.
But her sword lands no such blow. Its upper end caught in Ramza's grip, it only slides against his gauntlet.
So sudden and unexpected is the act, that Meliadoul gapes, stunned, scarcely believing that it took place at all — a second's distraction that she cannot allow. The tug she feels pulling her blade towards Ramza, and her arm with it, alerts her to his apparent strategy. She tightens her own grip. She gives the weapon a counter-tug.
She steps in, abruptly, and shifts her weight into going where Ramza's hand wrenches her, into targeting the gap between elbow and shoulder that Ramza's armour leaves comparatively exposed—
A second's distraction was her folly. Her momentum conspires with the force of Ramza's move to disarm her; her refusal to loosen her hold works against her. She finds herself hauled too close, her steps made maddeningly clumsy as she tries to adjust her path, but overbalances.
Instead of Ramza's arm, her blade sheaths itself in the ground.
From up above on the ramparts, cries of dismay are heard. Meliadoul's eyes do not lift from her sword. ]
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he shakes crimson off his gauntlet. the divine knight's fumbling had forced the weight of ramza's careful grip from his fingers to his palm; her blade cut through his gloves, leaving him with an open gash and wine-red blood still seeping into the leather. still, a bleeding palm isn't the worst injury he's ever endured. he curls and uncurls his hand, grimacing.
and with all the petulance of a child promised his due reward:]
May I leave now?
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She waits.
And waits.
Her head is not lopped from her neck. Ramza does not plunge a length of steel through her back.
May I leave now, he asks, as though she has inconvenienced him with some paltry matter, and she seethes to think that he mocks her still. Slowly, she raises her head. "And have your henchmen finish this?" ]
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[he is being petty, and rather more antagonistic than he knows he should be. meliadoul is a woman in mourning, and she is angry at her brother's killer, and it makes sense that she would not believe ramza's words — but ramza, for his part, tires of protesting his innocence. if she thinks him a villain then he will play the part.
...ramza does not make a very good villain, however, and once he sheathes his blade, he holds his unbloodied hand out to help meliadoul to her feet.]
I could not bring myself to face Isilud if I put steel through his sister's heart.
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She stares at the gloved hand offered to her.
How can this be mercy, how can she expect a miraculous reunion with Isilud, when Ramza confirmed his role in Wiegraf's death? And yet—
If Ramza's reluctance to duel was no ploy, what then?
Then nothing is as it seemed. Then she regains the brother she thought taken from this world, but loses her father. Then Ramza's intentions are good—
But he gathers the Zodiac Stones, even as he spouts his warnings.
Meliadoul draws back from Ramza's hand and lowers her eyes to the ground once more. "Go. Take your companions and be on your way. If my brother waits for me as you say, I will find him." Her form flickers, wreathed in a faint blue glow, and she disappears to rejoin her soldiers and give the order to withdraw.
Meanwhile, having come upon Isilud limping out of the church, Mustadio succeeded in forcing a potion on the knight. His efforts then turn towards persuading Isilud not to make straight for his former comrades, given how poorly his first attempt at reasoning with them has gone — is Meliadoul even among this group? What if Isilud's kind friend Loffrey has spread the news of his survival to them? Ramza and the others should be at the eastern gates by now, and together, they stand a far better chance.
"Not a word of this to Ramza," Isilud implores, still a touch too pale as he and Mustadio hurry through alleyways to avoid the notice of the soldiers that the machinist spied in the streets earlier. ]
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ramza simply draws his outstretched hand back to his side.
once inside bervenia, agrias gives orders to split up, search for their two missing men, and regroup within an hour. she claims ramza for her partner, and the most obvious location, the eastern gates. everyone else goes everywhere else.
"fear not, ramza," she says, once the others are gone, gentle in the way that she is gentle when she has no immediate enemies. "we will find them within the free city, i am sure of it. think not on those who would refuse to hear the truth. we do not fight to make those truths known — we fight the evils that would hide them."
ramza clenches his stinging palm. "thank you, agrias," is all he says, and for the time being, he lets her lead the way.
they do find isilud and mustadio at the eastern gates after all.
it's a surprise. it's a surprise because meliadoul's lack of knowledge regarding ramza's true goals implied that isilud never met with her. because ramza had hoped that the commotion of his battle would draw isilud's attention and it did not. because, surely, if isilud did not accomplish what he set out to do, then something must have gone wrong in the execution.
and he knows that something must have happened. he can tell by the look on isilud's face, the slightly panicked glint to mustadio's roving eyes: something must have happened. and if something happened, then it would be wrong to be angry with the knight templar and the machinist over circumstances beyond their control.
but ramza has, by his standards, had a Very Bad Afternoon. he was forced to fight a battle he had no desire to win, and he was unable to convince a friend's sister of the truth, and he is tired, and his hand is sensitive and bleeding and stinging and he didn't have the heart to beg agrias to soothe his aches while mustadio and isilud were yet unlocated. and he shouldn't take it out on them, but to see them simply standing there, safe and unimprisoned (though isilud looks somewhat rumpled and haggard), after all of ramza's troubles and worries, the fact that after all that effort they are simply standing there —
ramza opens his mouth
closes it
and looks toward agrias, his expression dangerously neutral. maintaining eye contact with her, he raises his injured hand, palm facing the sky, points it in isilud's direction — and lets it drop back to his side, limp and exhausted. the meaning of the gesture is clear: you deal with this.
agrias does, in the way that only agrias can. she crosses her arms and fixes the boys with a steely gaze. she has but two words to say.
"explain yourselves."]
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And if Meliadoul is there, Isilud can introduce Ramza to her face-to-face.
At the gates, the soldiers are gone, but the company has yet to arrive — so it seems until Ramza and Agrias reach the meeting place. Their reaction is baffling, and it deters Mustadio from calling out to them, though Isilud takes a few steps in their direction. Something has happened. It is there in Ramza's weary look and Agrias's frown.
'Not a word of this' does not extend to explaining the situation, despite Isilud's sinking sense that he walks through the halls of Riovanes Castle again, led before his father to face. A strange thing to think — Ramza and Agrias have nothing in common with his father.
"What is it...?" Mustadio questions uncertainly, looking between his friends. "The gates were barred, I had to warn Isilud, and here we are now. What is there to explain?" He approaches Ramza and tries to catch his gaze. "The Church has Bervenia under watch — even Isilud—" The rest, he hastily swallows down, largely out of lacking all the pieces of the story. ]
... I could not meet with Meliadoul.
[ Speaking up to admit his failed undertaking, Isilud ceases his gazing at the side of Ramza's head and lowers his eyes to linger on the hand that Ramza used to point at him. ]
But she may be here now, with the force sent to Bervenia...
[ Let me find her, he means to ask, but he thinks of Loffrey's parting words, and Riovanes, and Ramza's expression. All of it fills his head to split his skull; he cannot clear it. His body's only wish is a moment to rest, at odds with his plans. ]
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the holy knight runs a frustrated hand through her long hair — there are no plates on her gloves to irritate her scalp — as she suddenly whirls upon goug's unfortunate young machinist. "and you, mustadio!" she thunders, though in a slightly gentler tone, more like a scolding than an outright questioning. "what do you mean, you had to warn isilud, and here we are now? you were not with him when he was injured? we sent the both of you for a reason!"
ramza is still staring into the distance, apparently detached from the proceedings.]
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