Myst Knight
Lv. 25 Adventurer
Hey, this is Myst Knight, reposting my FFT story with better formatting (sorry about the new topic). Again, I warn you that this is a Ramza/Alma pairing story, so if that offends you, please turn back. In truth, I'm not actually advocating for these concepts or anything like that; it's just a fic.
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Desert Blooms
A Final Fantasy Tactics Fanfiction by Myst Knight
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy Tactics is owned by Square Soft. I write this without consent, and am making no money off of it.
This story is rated T for Ideologically sensitive material (forbidden sibling romance), violence, and some sexuality. For OLDER TEEN AND UP. No offense intended by the controversial content (and as always, don't try this at home!)
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Zeklaus Desert, Middle Ages
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Below the pale gaze of a noontime sky, a vast desert land spread itself across the horizon and dominated all with its rustic beauty. Cacti and underbrush made their homes in the cavern-like craters, twisting into such beautiful and ethereal shapes that even a dancer would be want to match them. The flashing sunlight brought unto the sandy dunes a sparking radiance reminiscent of gold, as if each grain was a treasure in of itself. But few who traveled the region could find any beauty in this arid setting, and they could only see the beauty around them as a small rose with too many thorns.
Ramza Beoulve trudged like a golem across the desert, taking large, almost violent steps against the seemingly endless mounds of sand. His battered but determined eyes were hidden behind soft, golden bangs that brought an air of serenity to contrast his soldier's grit. A brown cloak was draped over his shoulders and back, rustling with the burden the heavy gales set upon it. All in all, he had managed to become the very picture of a desert warrior, despite having only entered the region a mere half-a-day ago.
The boyish young man brushed a stray lock of straw-colored hair out from beyond his gaze, freeing himself to drink in both the sweltering majesty of the Zeklaus Desert, and the less savory touch of his memories. Truly, it had been only a scant few days ago when the misguided priest Zalmo had confronted Ramza as a heretic, casting the light of sin on his slaying of the monster Queklain, believed to be a holy entity. The defeat of the beast was only one link in the large chain of events that had led him, and those that would follow him, on a long exodus throughout his war-torn homeland in search for the puppet masters behind the violence. But no matter how muddled the path continued to get, or how much the puppet strings would constrict around him, he and his loyal crew continued to sift through the liars and Lions, united in their mutual desire for real, honest-to-goodness truth.
With a small swoosh of his cloak, Ramza pivoted to stare at the figures traveling the sands behind him, sighing with real sympathy. Though the Irgos-born noble had a perseverance that belied his plush upbringing, some of his allies hadn't quite the stamina for the Zeklaus Desert. Ergo, some of his ragtag army had split away to take a different path from their rendezvous point, leaving only his most steadfast companions to join him on the route through the desert. Companions such as the valkyrie-like Agrias, the sure-shooting Mustadio, and...
"Yeek!" a shrill, feminine squeal sounded out from far behind the tightly bound group of allies. Ramza's eyes knotted up at the cry, the voice instantly triggering a protective reflex within his mind. Breaking into a short dash, he sped back across the sandy dunes, leaving the rest of his allies to stop and gaze curiously at their leader. That leader was currently in back of them now, calling after the lone figure that was straggling behind, the newest member of their army. "Alma...!"
A good distance away from the rest of the group was a young, sandy-haired girl, carrying the same soft features as their leader. With a low-bound ponytail, an orange turtleneck, and a coral-pink skirt, she seemed a bit out of place among the collection of soldiers, wizards, and mercenaries. Her skirt was billowing up with the intense winds, forcing her to put a hand down to protect her modesty. A task that was becoming increasingly more difficult, due to the large quantity of elixirs, remedies, and other assorted goods she had precariously balanced in her arms.
Ramza crossed the distance to Alma in a flash, ready to aid her in her predicament. The girl blushed for a moment at being caught so exposed, but he remained placid, stretching out his arms and presenting his hands palms down. Her eyes widened a moment when she got the message, and she quickly relinquished her load into Ramza's arms. With the wind chilling her bare legs, she did away with each of the cumbersome items one by one, until all of them had been transferred to the boy's concerns.
With her arms now free, Alma bent slightly and reached at her flapping skirt with both hands, bringing the garment down with a resounding FWOOP! "Thank you, Ramza." She smiled up at him, her tone a combination between coy and relieved.
Ramza gave a small tilt to his younger counterpart, but with a slight curtness to his manner. Usually an indicator that a firm brotherly lecture was about to begin. "Alma, why did you insist on carrying all of the potions yourself?" he asked sternly, with only a slight curiosity breaking his instructional tone. "You don't enough muscle mass to handle them yet."
His precocious sibling was less than intimidated by the grilling. "Brother, I told you I wouldn't be a burden," Alma insisted, staring up at Ramza with large eyes the same color as his. "The rest of your army is already carrying their share of equipment."
"Yes, well..." Ramza had already broken away from his sister's gaze and was rummaging under his cloak for some object. "In the Hokuten Knights, we would use 'bags' to carry around our essentials." With a flourish that was perhaps a bit too self satisfied, the boy presented a large brown sack and began to stretch out its insides. This action left Alma slack-jawed for a full three seconds before she recovered enough to launch into a mild tissy.
"Ooh, Ramza!" she chirped, putting her hands on her hips and stamping her foot into the sand, causing her skirt to shake. "I was walking with my knickers nearly showing, and you had that bag all along!"
"Good soldiers can find the solutions on their own," he tossed behind him, casually dumping the items into the bag. Inside though, Ramza was restraining a soft chuckle. Along with general amusement at the situation, he had noted that Alma's petulant attitude has mirrored their late mother's whenever she would have a mild spat with their father. It was a trait that he often found too endearing within the younger Beoulve, and was something he had missed in his life on several levels.
After leaving the potion-packed bag with Alma, the boy continued back to his spot at the head of the group, trying to make up for the slight addition in travel time. Walking alongside his companions, Ramza noted that the traveling order had changed during his brief exchange with Alma. Agrias and a few of her knights had watched the earlier scene with mild concern, ready to intervene on behalf of the younger girl's feminine modesty. This action lost them their place at the head of the group, leaving Mustadio, the young mechanic Ramza was passing now, to take the lead position.
"Quite the gentleman, eh Ramza?" Mustadio remarked lightly to the boy, readjusting the musket over his shoulder. "Always going after the damsel in distress?"
"Father always told me to never keep a lady in waiting," Ramza told him non-commonalty, not sparing a glance away from the long stretch of desert they had yet to traverse.
The easygoing engineer turned away from the other boy for a moment, running a hand from the top of his hairline to the short ponytail resting on his nape. "She seems to really like you," Mustadio commented, mischievous eyes shifting back towards his leader. "Is she your girlfriend as well as your sister?"
His goofy question was met with a swift gonk to the head. "Don't be daft!" Ramza snapped, puffing up a bit too much for a situation like this. "It's not like that!"
"Sorry, sorry!" the injured one cried out half-sarcastically, rubbing the growing welt on top of his skull. "Can't blame a guy for noticin' things. Stuffy bloke like you needs a cute girl like her, anyway."
Ramza just snorted indignantly, and picked up his pace to carry him farther from the bothersome conversation. He needed to make it more clear exactly what kind of nonsense would fly and what wouldn't. He also needed to make a note for someone to beat Mustadio up in the near future.
After a bit of relaxing, desert scenery to calm him down, Ramza mulled over what Mustadio had said in their stinted conversation. Jokes they may be, but Alma did indeed care for him, no doubt part of the reason she had decided to tag along with them for the present time. No doubt it was part of the problem as well, considering her lack of any real fighting experience. How could a young girl like her hope to survive in the harsh world that he lived in?
He had to admit though, Alma had made a good point about her necessity in this situation, what with her teachings as a Cleric from Orbonne Monastery, the very place they had to go. If ever Ramza hoped to enter the chapel with his heretic status, he would need someone to vouch for him. And even if there were other reasons why his sister was an unwelcome addition to his army, it was becoming more and more difficult to validate them. Aside from the brief fumble concerning the potions, Alma had been nothing but helpful to his friends, treating even the most grievous of wounds with her Healing Staff.
Ramza sighed exasperatedly. He could bloat up his big-brother position all he wanted, but the fact was that Alma Beoulve had him essentially wrapped around the pinky. And truth be told, hadn't it always been that way?
The muffled clomp of boots against sand broke the boy out of his inner monologue, and he turned to find Alma now walking alongside him. The hefty bag of potions had shrunken down to a mere scrap on her shoulder. "Brother Ramza, I've finished giving out the potions to everyone," she told him, presenting him with the empty sack. "If it's alright, may I keep a few for myself?"
"It's fine," he responded, taking the bag from her hands and nodding briefly. "Thanks."
Alma smiled warmly at Ramza's approval, then turned back towards the expanding sands that still stretched beyond sight. Matching her gait with his, the two siblings were again trekking across the desert, meeting the tender mercies of the winds together. The open breeze was still present, parting their bangs and sending a wave of desert debris into their faces. But they both found they could ignore this quite easily, having already been subject to Fate's more bitter attitudes.
The young girl stared after a pair of flowers that had brushed past her nose. "Spring is coming soon," she said, her gaze still tracking the now invisible blooms. "The desert will soon be alive with the March sand buds. It'll be beautiful."
"If they can truly prosper in this environment..." Ramza mumbled, narrowing his eyes to another grainy onslaught.
"They will," Alma smiled at him. "Ivalice won't let its strongest survivors go un-rewarded."
Ramza sighed with a long-suffering attitude, hooking onto a double meaning in his sister's statement. "I can only hope that's true," he said, half to the girl, and half to himself.
The ambiance of the desert had once again taken over the silence, and there was a sense that something had gone awry. The wind had picked up again before Alma found a moment to continue. "We're about halfway to the monastery now," she told him, her voice firm with conviction. "You'll be able to put a stop to the bloodshed."
"The battle has only begun, Alma," Ramza corrected her, staring off into the empty skies. His eyes then narrowed to slits, practically staring into the sun. "Still, I swear by the honor of the Beoulves, there will be no more Tetas."
Alma smiled meaningfully, and gripped onto his arm. "I know there won't be," she said, squeezing his biceps.
Ramza started a bit at the girl's fingertips on his arms, but soon a small smile grew on his face. She smiled as well, and soon the two were back together spiritually, as well as physically. With Alma clutching onto him, Ramza felt both burdened and blessed, as if he were entrusted with a holy artifact. Yet she was a treasure that comforted much more than mere gold and silver, a treasure that made him feel, somehow, that it would all turn out right in the end.
"You really ought to ask her out," a conspiratory whisper sounded out from behind them.
Ramza swiftly elbowed the meddling engineer in the gut. Sometimes, it was hard to believe that Mustadio was actually older than him. Alma's hold on him was made that much more uncomfortable.
"...wooooOOOO!!!" Then, out of the depths of the desert, a low moaning sound crawled up the sands towards the relatively-cheery trio. They all turned their heads at the mysterious echo, each developing a different perception of the noise. Alma's eyes registered confusion, having spend most of their time staring at magic parchments and rules of etiquette. But her brother knew what beast that sounded by cry, and his hand was already moving to his sword.
"Trouble!" Ramza shouted out, disengaging himself from Alma and looking immediately towards Mustadio.
The mechanic got the message quickly. "I'll get Agrias and the others," he said, turning around to dash back to their allies.
Nodding once, Ramza grabbed the fabric of the brown cloak he wore and began to loosen it. The knot was well done, but it gave way easily to the boy's quick and hurried touch. In one swift movement, he tossed the cape to the winds, letting it flitter away at the mercy of the desert. As the now cumbersome garment tumbled to the distance, the Squire charged off towards the unseen threat, his blue battle armor sparkling with the glow of the sun.
"Ramza...?" Alma spoke out, her hand reflexively going to her mouth on awe. "What's going on?"
"It's a monster attack!" the young man yelled, not even pausing to look in her direction. "Get to the back!"
"B-but, brother!" the girl tried again, a somewhat sad look taking the place of the jovial one in her eyes. "Can't I help at all?"
"No!" he shouted, picking up his pace and drawing his blade. "Stay here!"
Before anymore of this argument could play out, Ramza had already disappeared beyond Alma's eyesight. If he had stayed a moment longer, he might have heard a sad, sweet whisper being carried off into the wind. "But I can protect you too..." But he didn't.
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*****
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A gruesome cry of pure evil tore through the cacti and cliffs, chilling the hearts of all that dared to show their presence. The horrific screeches continued, as the creature whom uttered them waved its bony arms left and right to direct the Skeletons and Grenades that had gathered in the desert. The creature itself was a Bone Snatch, a vile being with just enough sentience to hate its foes with a passion. It was the leader of the small group of monsters the army was facing, and ultimately the one they would have to defeat.
Ramza's silvery blade tore through the spectral form of a Grenade, sending a burst of dark flame spreading away from him. Spinning elegantly on his heel, he brought up his sword just in time to intercept the kick of a Skeleton, sawing off the leg and leaving the beast snapping its hideous teeth in frustration. The boy was a whirlwind of artistic death, parrying and attacking as if in some elaborate sword dance. Though the phrase "War is Hell" still struck a chord within him, you would never know he thought it terrible by the killer grace in which the Squire moved.
Though the burden of taking on so many foes was heavy, Ramza always made sure to keep one eye on his party's condition. For what it was worth, they were all doing relatively fine in this random encounter. Mustadio was having a bit of trouble with two aggressive Skeletons, but Agrias had stepped up and knocked them out of the running with a quick Holy Sword maneuver. All in all, this seemed to be a melee that would end as quickly as it begun, and likely with no causalities.
After ridding himself of a few more monsters, Ramza felt it was time to finish off the leader. With a loud battle cry, he charged straight for the Bone Snatch, ignoring the frustrated growls of the beasts he passed. The Bone Snatch had seem him coming, and flung an orb of water-based magic at the young fighter. But he only had to alter his path by a hair to avoid the projectile, and the skeletal-monster was open for a swift, final blow.
"Eyaaaa!" Ramza cried, leaping into the air in a wild attack upon his foe. Raising his sword above his head, he closed in on the hapless Bone Snatch, who had no more time to prepare a second magic assault. With a loud swiping motion, the blade was brought down upon the monster, and the sickening sound of hard metal against shattering bone rang in the boy's ears. A sound with a more positive connotation than one might think, for it signaled the death of a threat and a step closer to victory.
Ramza sighed heavily, feeling some of the tension drain away from his body. There were only a small number of opponents left, foes that would easily be extinguished in a short amount to time if he helped his party out now. He gritted his teeth slightly, and made as if to charge into battle once again.
BZAATTTTT! ...and then, a horrible sensation took over his arm, like a bolt of lightning amongst the heat of Hades. Ramza hollered out in pain, crumbling under the power and onto the blood-soaked sands below him. As quickly as he could, he tried to regain control of the situation, switching his sword over to his good arm for a hasty counterattack. But he had only just begun the motion when he found himself nose to nose with a smoking Wizard Rod...along with the wizard that carried it.
Ramza's eyes were still squinting in pain, but he managed to catch the heavily-garbed features of the foe that had come out of the blue. That foe was indeed a wizard, the famous Black Mage with all-concealing hat and glowing yellow eyes. He has chosen to wear green robes instead of the standard blue, indicating that he served no royal power. Even now, the boy had the feeling that his enemy was smiling under his cloak, all too ready to enjoy the death of a careless opponent.
"Such a shame to fall after such heroics," the Wizard cackled, like some sort of fairytale sorcerer. "But I suppose there is no honor lost in falling before such strategy."
"You mean..." Ramza managed to get out, still trying to find a way out of his predicament. "You were the leader all along...?"
"The mightiest warrior never shows his face on the frontline until the end," the Wizard philosophized, sneering under his hat at his helpless prey. "A lesson you are too late to learn, my friend!"
Ramza just growled in frustration, the blood from his wound wetting the sand around him. The sleazy spellcaster took this as a cue to continue, raising his Rod in preparation for the final hex.
And then, the gasp of a female voice broke through the tension like a knife blade, momentarily shattering the do-or-die situation the two warrior had been involved in. Both the Wizard and Ramza turned to find a girl standing not seven meters from where they were, her hands to her mouth in abject horror. Her eyes, before frozen in fear and concern, had now focused into iron orbs within her head. And then she was running, running, wielding her Healing Staff like a bludgeon.
The Wizard brought his weapon away from the fallen warrior, and narrowed his eyes in anticipation. "Another foolish heart rushes to death," he cooed, pointing the Wizard Rod straight for the girl.
"Alma, run!" Ramza yelled out, exerting all the energy he had been saving for a final strike. "Get out of there!"
"I won't let you hurt my brother!" Alma cried, raising her staff as if to knock her nemesis' head off.
"Worry about yourself, dearie..." the Wizard snapped, bringing his rod back behind him for an assault. "Before worrying about others!"
Convinced that this was an opponent unworthy of his finer talents, the Wizard swung his rod in an attempt to simply club the girl. But Alma managed the dodge just in time, and the weapon merely grazed the first three clumps of her bangs. Rushing past in a flurry of skirts and legs, she rolled over to Ramza's side, and brought the Healing Staff up to bear. Closing her eyes, she let the battle tension wash off her body, and began to chant the only useful words that she had learned at the Monastery.
"For the sake of Ivalice's love and liberty," Alma called out, her voice detached from the raw violence radiating around her. "MBarrier!"
And then, a brilliant green forcefield formed around the girl, enveloping both her and Ramza in its luminescence. Everything in its protecting shell was cool and refreshing, like the waterfalls in central Ivalice. The beautiful bubble felt as if it were a world just for the two of them, as the rushing sands and winds refused to touch the duo. Nor did the curses of the Wizard, who was none too pleased at a magical development that he was not a part of.
"GAWH!!!" he screamed out, pointing his Wizard Rod at Alma in accusation. A burst of fire shot forth from the bauble of the rod, licking at the barrier like a ravenous Cuar. Yet for all of the spellcaster's rage, the flames failed on all counts at entering the magical orb that contained its targets. It just coasted from the girl and boy in a flair of harmless fireworks, cracking along the desert sands until they were mere black ash.
Ramza stared in amazement as his gentle sister. How could she possibly have such power against the nature of magic..and such resolve? But Alma herself seemed to have no knowledge of the calamity of the situation, focused everything on the matter at hand. Her gaze just got harder and harder, as she spent all of her teachings in making sure not one of those flames ever touched her brother...
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Next Up- Part 2
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Desert Blooms
A Final Fantasy Tactics Fanfiction by Myst Knight
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy Tactics is owned by Square Soft. I write this without consent, and am making no money off of it.
This story is rated T for Ideologically sensitive material (forbidden sibling romance), violence, and some sexuality. For OLDER TEEN AND UP. No offense intended by the controversial content (and as always, don't try this at home!)
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Zeklaus Desert, Middle Ages
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Below the pale gaze of a noontime sky, a vast desert land spread itself across the horizon and dominated all with its rustic beauty. Cacti and underbrush made their homes in the cavern-like craters, twisting into such beautiful and ethereal shapes that even a dancer would be want to match them. The flashing sunlight brought unto the sandy dunes a sparking radiance reminiscent of gold, as if each grain was a treasure in of itself. But few who traveled the region could find any beauty in this arid setting, and they could only see the beauty around them as a small rose with too many thorns.
Ramza Beoulve trudged like a golem across the desert, taking large, almost violent steps against the seemingly endless mounds of sand. His battered but determined eyes were hidden behind soft, golden bangs that brought an air of serenity to contrast his soldier's grit. A brown cloak was draped over his shoulders and back, rustling with the burden the heavy gales set upon it. All in all, he had managed to become the very picture of a desert warrior, despite having only entered the region a mere half-a-day ago.
The boyish young man brushed a stray lock of straw-colored hair out from beyond his gaze, freeing himself to drink in both the sweltering majesty of the Zeklaus Desert, and the less savory touch of his memories. Truly, it had been only a scant few days ago when the misguided priest Zalmo had confronted Ramza as a heretic, casting the light of sin on his slaying of the monster Queklain, believed to be a holy entity. The defeat of the beast was only one link in the large chain of events that had led him, and those that would follow him, on a long exodus throughout his war-torn homeland in search for the puppet masters behind the violence. But no matter how muddled the path continued to get, or how much the puppet strings would constrict around him, he and his loyal crew continued to sift through the liars and Lions, united in their mutual desire for real, honest-to-goodness truth.
With a small swoosh of his cloak, Ramza pivoted to stare at the figures traveling the sands behind him, sighing with real sympathy. Though the Irgos-born noble had a perseverance that belied his plush upbringing, some of his allies hadn't quite the stamina for the Zeklaus Desert. Ergo, some of his ragtag army had split away to take a different path from their rendezvous point, leaving only his most steadfast companions to join him on the route through the desert. Companions such as the valkyrie-like Agrias, the sure-shooting Mustadio, and...
"Yeek!" a shrill, feminine squeal sounded out from far behind the tightly bound group of allies. Ramza's eyes knotted up at the cry, the voice instantly triggering a protective reflex within his mind. Breaking into a short dash, he sped back across the sandy dunes, leaving the rest of his allies to stop and gaze curiously at their leader. That leader was currently in back of them now, calling after the lone figure that was straggling behind, the newest member of their army. "Alma...!"
A good distance away from the rest of the group was a young, sandy-haired girl, carrying the same soft features as their leader. With a low-bound ponytail, an orange turtleneck, and a coral-pink skirt, she seemed a bit out of place among the collection of soldiers, wizards, and mercenaries. Her skirt was billowing up with the intense winds, forcing her to put a hand down to protect her modesty. A task that was becoming increasingly more difficult, due to the large quantity of elixirs, remedies, and other assorted goods she had precariously balanced in her arms.
Ramza crossed the distance to Alma in a flash, ready to aid her in her predicament. The girl blushed for a moment at being caught so exposed, but he remained placid, stretching out his arms and presenting his hands palms down. Her eyes widened a moment when she got the message, and she quickly relinquished her load into Ramza's arms. With the wind chilling her bare legs, she did away with each of the cumbersome items one by one, until all of them had been transferred to the boy's concerns.
With her arms now free, Alma bent slightly and reached at her flapping skirt with both hands, bringing the garment down with a resounding FWOOP! "Thank you, Ramza." She smiled up at him, her tone a combination between coy and relieved.
Ramza gave a small tilt to his younger counterpart, but with a slight curtness to his manner. Usually an indicator that a firm brotherly lecture was about to begin. "Alma, why did you insist on carrying all of the potions yourself?" he asked sternly, with only a slight curiosity breaking his instructional tone. "You don't enough muscle mass to handle them yet."
His precocious sibling was less than intimidated by the grilling. "Brother, I told you I wouldn't be a burden," Alma insisted, staring up at Ramza with large eyes the same color as his. "The rest of your army is already carrying their share of equipment."
"Yes, well..." Ramza had already broken away from his sister's gaze and was rummaging under his cloak for some object. "In the Hokuten Knights, we would use 'bags' to carry around our essentials." With a flourish that was perhaps a bit too self satisfied, the boy presented a large brown sack and began to stretch out its insides. This action left Alma slack-jawed for a full three seconds before she recovered enough to launch into a mild tissy.
"Ooh, Ramza!" she chirped, putting her hands on her hips and stamping her foot into the sand, causing her skirt to shake. "I was walking with my knickers nearly showing, and you had that bag all along!"
"Good soldiers can find the solutions on their own," he tossed behind him, casually dumping the items into the bag. Inside though, Ramza was restraining a soft chuckle. Along with general amusement at the situation, he had noted that Alma's petulant attitude has mirrored their late mother's whenever she would have a mild spat with their father. It was a trait that he often found too endearing within the younger Beoulve, and was something he had missed in his life on several levels.
After leaving the potion-packed bag with Alma, the boy continued back to his spot at the head of the group, trying to make up for the slight addition in travel time. Walking alongside his companions, Ramza noted that the traveling order had changed during his brief exchange with Alma. Agrias and a few of her knights had watched the earlier scene with mild concern, ready to intervene on behalf of the younger girl's feminine modesty. This action lost them their place at the head of the group, leaving Mustadio, the young mechanic Ramza was passing now, to take the lead position.
"Quite the gentleman, eh Ramza?" Mustadio remarked lightly to the boy, readjusting the musket over his shoulder. "Always going after the damsel in distress?"
"Father always told me to never keep a lady in waiting," Ramza told him non-commonalty, not sparing a glance away from the long stretch of desert they had yet to traverse.
The easygoing engineer turned away from the other boy for a moment, running a hand from the top of his hairline to the short ponytail resting on his nape. "She seems to really like you," Mustadio commented, mischievous eyes shifting back towards his leader. "Is she your girlfriend as well as your sister?"
His goofy question was met with a swift gonk to the head. "Don't be daft!" Ramza snapped, puffing up a bit too much for a situation like this. "It's not like that!"
"Sorry, sorry!" the injured one cried out half-sarcastically, rubbing the growing welt on top of his skull. "Can't blame a guy for noticin' things. Stuffy bloke like you needs a cute girl like her, anyway."
Ramza just snorted indignantly, and picked up his pace to carry him farther from the bothersome conversation. He needed to make it more clear exactly what kind of nonsense would fly and what wouldn't. He also needed to make a note for someone to beat Mustadio up in the near future.
After a bit of relaxing, desert scenery to calm him down, Ramza mulled over what Mustadio had said in their stinted conversation. Jokes they may be, but Alma did indeed care for him, no doubt part of the reason she had decided to tag along with them for the present time. No doubt it was part of the problem as well, considering her lack of any real fighting experience. How could a young girl like her hope to survive in the harsh world that he lived in?
He had to admit though, Alma had made a good point about her necessity in this situation, what with her teachings as a Cleric from Orbonne Monastery, the very place they had to go. If ever Ramza hoped to enter the chapel with his heretic status, he would need someone to vouch for him. And even if there were other reasons why his sister was an unwelcome addition to his army, it was becoming more and more difficult to validate them. Aside from the brief fumble concerning the potions, Alma had been nothing but helpful to his friends, treating even the most grievous of wounds with her Healing Staff.
Ramza sighed exasperatedly. He could bloat up his big-brother position all he wanted, but the fact was that Alma Beoulve had him essentially wrapped around the pinky. And truth be told, hadn't it always been that way?
The muffled clomp of boots against sand broke the boy out of his inner monologue, and he turned to find Alma now walking alongside him. The hefty bag of potions had shrunken down to a mere scrap on her shoulder. "Brother Ramza, I've finished giving out the potions to everyone," she told him, presenting him with the empty sack. "If it's alright, may I keep a few for myself?"
"It's fine," he responded, taking the bag from her hands and nodding briefly. "Thanks."
Alma smiled warmly at Ramza's approval, then turned back towards the expanding sands that still stretched beyond sight. Matching her gait with his, the two siblings were again trekking across the desert, meeting the tender mercies of the winds together. The open breeze was still present, parting their bangs and sending a wave of desert debris into their faces. But they both found they could ignore this quite easily, having already been subject to Fate's more bitter attitudes.
The young girl stared after a pair of flowers that had brushed past her nose. "Spring is coming soon," she said, her gaze still tracking the now invisible blooms. "The desert will soon be alive with the March sand buds. It'll be beautiful."
"If they can truly prosper in this environment..." Ramza mumbled, narrowing his eyes to another grainy onslaught.
"They will," Alma smiled at him. "Ivalice won't let its strongest survivors go un-rewarded."
Ramza sighed with a long-suffering attitude, hooking onto a double meaning in his sister's statement. "I can only hope that's true," he said, half to the girl, and half to himself.
The ambiance of the desert had once again taken over the silence, and there was a sense that something had gone awry. The wind had picked up again before Alma found a moment to continue. "We're about halfway to the monastery now," she told him, her voice firm with conviction. "You'll be able to put a stop to the bloodshed."
"The battle has only begun, Alma," Ramza corrected her, staring off into the empty skies. His eyes then narrowed to slits, practically staring into the sun. "Still, I swear by the honor of the Beoulves, there will be no more Tetas."
Alma smiled meaningfully, and gripped onto his arm. "I know there won't be," she said, squeezing his biceps.
Ramza started a bit at the girl's fingertips on his arms, but soon a small smile grew on his face. She smiled as well, and soon the two were back together spiritually, as well as physically. With Alma clutching onto him, Ramza felt both burdened and blessed, as if he were entrusted with a holy artifact. Yet she was a treasure that comforted much more than mere gold and silver, a treasure that made him feel, somehow, that it would all turn out right in the end.
"You really ought to ask her out," a conspiratory whisper sounded out from behind them.
Ramza swiftly elbowed the meddling engineer in the gut. Sometimes, it was hard to believe that Mustadio was actually older than him. Alma's hold on him was made that much more uncomfortable.
"...wooooOOOO!!!" Then, out of the depths of the desert, a low moaning sound crawled up the sands towards the relatively-cheery trio. They all turned their heads at the mysterious echo, each developing a different perception of the noise. Alma's eyes registered confusion, having spend most of their time staring at magic parchments and rules of etiquette. But her brother knew what beast that sounded by cry, and his hand was already moving to his sword.
"Trouble!" Ramza shouted out, disengaging himself from Alma and looking immediately towards Mustadio.
The mechanic got the message quickly. "I'll get Agrias and the others," he said, turning around to dash back to their allies.
Nodding once, Ramza grabbed the fabric of the brown cloak he wore and began to loosen it. The knot was well done, but it gave way easily to the boy's quick and hurried touch. In one swift movement, he tossed the cape to the winds, letting it flitter away at the mercy of the desert. As the now cumbersome garment tumbled to the distance, the Squire charged off towards the unseen threat, his blue battle armor sparkling with the glow of the sun.
"Ramza...?" Alma spoke out, her hand reflexively going to her mouth on awe. "What's going on?"
"It's a monster attack!" the young man yelled, not even pausing to look in her direction. "Get to the back!"
"B-but, brother!" the girl tried again, a somewhat sad look taking the place of the jovial one in her eyes. "Can't I help at all?"
"No!" he shouted, picking up his pace and drawing his blade. "Stay here!"
Before anymore of this argument could play out, Ramza had already disappeared beyond Alma's eyesight. If he had stayed a moment longer, he might have heard a sad, sweet whisper being carried off into the wind. "But I can protect you too..." But he didn't.
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*****
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A gruesome cry of pure evil tore through the cacti and cliffs, chilling the hearts of all that dared to show their presence. The horrific screeches continued, as the creature whom uttered them waved its bony arms left and right to direct the Skeletons and Grenades that had gathered in the desert. The creature itself was a Bone Snatch, a vile being with just enough sentience to hate its foes with a passion. It was the leader of the small group of monsters the army was facing, and ultimately the one they would have to defeat.
Ramza's silvery blade tore through the spectral form of a Grenade, sending a burst of dark flame spreading away from him. Spinning elegantly on his heel, he brought up his sword just in time to intercept the kick of a Skeleton, sawing off the leg and leaving the beast snapping its hideous teeth in frustration. The boy was a whirlwind of artistic death, parrying and attacking as if in some elaborate sword dance. Though the phrase "War is Hell" still struck a chord within him, you would never know he thought it terrible by the killer grace in which the Squire moved.
Though the burden of taking on so many foes was heavy, Ramza always made sure to keep one eye on his party's condition. For what it was worth, they were all doing relatively fine in this random encounter. Mustadio was having a bit of trouble with two aggressive Skeletons, but Agrias had stepped up and knocked them out of the running with a quick Holy Sword maneuver. All in all, this seemed to be a melee that would end as quickly as it begun, and likely with no causalities.
After ridding himself of a few more monsters, Ramza felt it was time to finish off the leader. With a loud battle cry, he charged straight for the Bone Snatch, ignoring the frustrated growls of the beasts he passed. The Bone Snatch had seem him coming, and flung an orb of water-based magic at the young fighter. But he only had to alter his path by a hair to avoid the projectile, and the skeletal-monster was open for a swift, final blow.
"Eyaaaa!" Ramza cried, leaping into the air in a wild attack upon his foe. Raising his sword above his head, he closed in on the hapless Bone Snatch, who had no more time to prepare a second magic assault. With a loud swiping motion, the blade was brought down upon the monster, and the sickening sound of hard metal against shattering bone rang in the boy's ears. A sound with a more positive connotation than one might think, for it signaled the death of a threat and a step closer to victory.
Ramza sighed heavily, feeling some of the tension drain away from his body. There were only a small number of opponents left, foes that would easily be extinguished in a short amount to time if he helped his party out now. He gritted his teeth slightly, and made as if to charge into battle once again.
BZAATTTTT! ...and then, a horrible sensation took over his arm, like a bolt of lightning amongst the heat of Hades. Ramza hollered out in pain, crumbling under the power and onto the blood-soaked sands below him. As quickly as he could, he tried to regain control of the situation, switching his sword over to his good arm for a hasty counterattack. But he had only just begun the motion when he found himself nose to nose with a smoking Wizard Rod...along with the wizard that carried it.
Ramza's eyes were still squinting in pain, but he managed to catch the heavily-garbed features of the foe that had come out of the blue. That foe was indeed a wizard, the famous Black Mage with all-concealing hat and glowing yellow eyes. He has chosen to wear green robes instead of the standard blue, indicating that he served no royal power. Even now, the boy had the feeling that his enemy was smiling under his cloak, all too ready to enjoy the death of a careless opponent.
"Such a shame to fall after such heroics," the Wizard cackled, like some sort of fairytale sorcerer. "But I suppose there is no honor lost in falling before such strategy."
"You mean..." Ramza managed to get out, still trying to find a way out of his predicament. "You were the leader all along...?"
"The mightiest warrior never shows his face on the frontline until the end," the Wizard philosophized, sneering under his hat at his helpless prey. "A lesson you are too late to learn, my friend!"
Ramza just growled in frustration, the blood from his wound wetting the sand around him. The sleazy spellcaster took this as a cue to continue, raising his Rod in preparation for the final hex.
And then, the gasp of a female voice broke through the tension like a knife blade, momentarily shattering the do-or-die situation the two warrior had been involved in. Both the Wizard and Ramza turned to find a girl standing not seven meters from where they were, her hands to her mouth in abject horror. Her eyes, before frozen in fear and concern, had now focused into iron orbs within her head. And then she was running, running, wielding her Healing Staff like a bludgeon.
The Wizard brought his weapon away from the fallen warrior, and narrowed his eyes in anticipation. "Another foolish heart rushes to death," he cooed, pointing the Wizard Rod straight for the girl.
"Alma, run!" Ramza yelled out, exerting all the energy he had been saving for a final strike. "Get out of there!"
"I won't let you hurt my brother!" Alma cried, raising her staff as if to knock her nemesis' head off.
"Worry about yourself, dearie..." the Wizard snapped, bringing his rod back behind him for an assault. "Before worrying about others!"
Convinced that this was an opponent unworthy of his finer talents, the Wizard swung his rod in an attempt to simply club the girl. But Alma managed the dodge just in time, and the weapon merely grazed the first three clumps of her bangs. Rushing past in a flurry of skirts and legs, she rolled over to Ramza's side, and brought the Healing Staff up to bear. Closing her eyes, she let the battle tension wash off her body, and began to chant the only useful words that she had learned at the Monastery.
"For the sake of Ivalice's love and liberty," Alma called out, her voice detached from the raw violence radiating around her. "MBarrier!"
And then, a brilliant green forcefield formed around the girl, enveloping both her and Ramza in its luminescence. Everything in its protecting shell was cool and refreshing, like the waterfalls in central Ivalice. The beautiful bubble felt as if it were a world just for the two of them, as the rushing sands and winds refused to touch the duo. Nor did the curses of the Wizard, who was none too pleased at a magical development that he was not a part of.
"GAWH!!!" he screamed out, pointing his Wizard Rod at Alma in accusation. A burst of fire shot forth from the bauble of the rod, licking at the barrier like a ravenous Cuar. Yet for all of the spellcaster's rage, the flames failed on all counts at entering the magical orb that contained its targets. It just coasted from the girl and boy in a flair of harmless fireworks, cracking along the desert sands until they were mere black ash.
Ramza stared in amazement as his gentle sister. How could she possibly have such power against the nature of magic..and such resolve? But Alma herself seemed to have no knowledge of the calamity of the situation, focused everything on the matter at hand. Her gaze just got harder and harder, as she spent all of her teachings in making sure not one of those flames ever touched her brother...
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Next Up- Part 2