Chapter 70: Unwanted Confession

Following Count Orlandeau's departure, a curiosity welled inside Princess Ovelia. She stifled it, but a visit to Ramza — now recovered enough to sit up — had rekindled and fueled it.

She approached Marquis Elmdore later that night and asked, "Are there any books on the Fifty Years' War available?"

Her question caught him well off guard. His reply, unsatisfactory, "Unfortunately no. The conflict is too recent for a complete masterwork of the campaign to have been penned. I've records aplenty, and a few scribes have attempted to consolidate information, but Limberry's participation is a limited view of the overarching picture of the war."

"Are any of those compiled works available?"

"In a state far from completion, Your Highness. The rigors of war often demanded haste and code, so transcribing them into a standard quality is a complex and time-consuming task. Save for inventory reports, which are dreadfully dull. And I'd be remiss to mention that reports are often contradictory, as no commander beheld the full picture of the war and all its fronts."

Her lingering curiosity dampered by plain facts. "Very well, then. Thank you for seeing me, Marquis."

"If I may," he said. "I am able to ensure that your history teachers begin to cover that era. I am well aware the undertakings of economy and food production can grow too familiar."

It was something she was intrigued by of her own volition. "If you would."

She, Agrias, and Lavian, departed.

"Your Highness," Agrias stopped her once only a handful of hall guards were within sight. "If I may ask, for what reason did you speak of such a thing?"

Ovelia faced her Lionsguard. "Count Orlandeau's leave reminded me that he knew my Lord Father." If he was. "I know so painfully little of him, and the war claimed his life, so…"

"Ah…" Agrias almost seemed relieved at the answer. "If you'd like, Your Highness, we could inform you to the best of our knowledge."

"Very much so," she replied.

Ovelia took a brisk pace to her room, not even waiting for the door to close fully before insisting on the details.

Agrias went into the broad matters of the war first (as Lavian closed the door). King Denamda II, her father's father, had a claim on the crown of the neighboring eastern country of Ordallia. When the King of Ordallia passed, King Denamda II pressed his claim and invaded.

Ivalice was at its heyday. The height of its power. Knights, more combined than every Order left in current Ivalice, marched with the full support and well wishes of the populace. And more, as where Ivalice first marched was the old lands of Zelmonia, a country that had long been under the oppressive yoke of Ordallia. Assisted by Zelmonia rebels, Ivalice looked ready to take Ordallia's capital and liberate Zelmonia within a few years.

Only for tragedy to strike as King Denamda II passed.

His firm leadership lost, the armies of Ivalice stalemated with Ordallia for many years.

That was when Romanda to the northwest invaded.

The island nation launched its mighty fleets at Ordallia's behest and Ivalice's heart was stabbed. Ivalice's Orders, pulled east by the war, were under strength at home and could not ward off the invaders.

This is where her father first made his name known in history.

Following in his own father's footsteps, Denamda IV was a fearless leader of men that drove out every attack Romanda could throw at them. In three years, all the ground Ivalice had lost was reclaimed and Romanda fled. An outbreak of the Black Death had crippled Romanda's industry and agriculture, preventing them from pursuing the war any further.

Under King's leadership once more did Ivalice look ready to end the war.

When trouble roused once more.

Peasants, drained gilless in taxes and food collection, took their farming implements and cried "no more!". Uprisings and banditry became commonplace, and the latter made the former occur more often.

A fate shared with Ordallia, so once more was the war postponed as the countries handled their own people.

(As Ovelia had overheard, a fair number of the commons who rose up were conscripted and sent east.)

Ivalice managed its affairs better and for a third time began its advance…

...for tragedy to strike. King Denamda passed. Some would say murdered — poisoned.

The Ivalician leadership was paralyzed and the talented Prince of Ordallia pushed back. Back beyond Ordallia's occupied borders. Back across allied Zelmonnia. And into Ivalice proper.

King Ondoria III was not the warrior-king of his father, and his father's father. There was no hope but to sue for peace. A peace Ordallia did not accept.

Only a long, drawn-out campaign brought the eastern nation to treaty. Ivalice had lost and reclaimed much of the provinces in the war and Ordallia's supply lines had grown long and ran through dangerous Zelmonnia territory.

Under the careful negotiations of Barbaneth Beoulve, peace was finally achieved. Even if the knight gallant himself did not live to see it.

The war left Ivalice wrought with insurrections, bandits and debt. Weak leadership from King Ondoria and infighting between noble houses only escalated the damages.

Now, now they were here.

Ready to start another war.

Hearing the story told her one thing: Ivalice could not survive another war.

She may not have had the heart to take a stand such as this if Agrias, Ramza and the others had not pledged themselves as they had.

Even now, she felt like letting go.

"That story tells its tale clear. The wrongness of war, and the suffering all who endure it bear. Especially the commons." Including—perhaps—even her.

"The unfortunate truth we have come to bear witness to, Your Highness," Agrias answered.

So many twists history could have taken to not force war where Ivalice fought itself. Thoughts surely shared by every person in Ivalice.

Yet... would any of those turns led to meeting Ramza?

No, she did not want to be glad for so much suffering.

It was one little ray of hope in her life she had, so to banish it was not something she could do.

So, perhaps now she finally realized what the Lionsguard and he felt, when they chose her and war over otherwise.

Mayhap she deserved this fate.

Wallowing in self-pity and half-concerns as everyone indulged her and the title.

Like her half-brother.

She gave commands, always at others' suggestions. They planned. Would not listen even if she said no.

Had her father and his been so meek? No. They'd been men of passion and strength.

Like Ramza.

Ramza.

If he were king.

If they were together.

The thought of it once more clutched her chest in pain. She felt flush in the face.

"Are you alright, Your Highness?" said Agrias, taking a step further from concern.

"Ah, yes, Agrias, I am." She'd let it show too easily.

"Mayhap you caught a fever from Ramza," she suggested. "Illness begets illness, I'm afraid."

Ovelia couldn't help a shudder at the thought. "I think mayhap it just a passing murmur." Oh what little words to describe it. "Our conditions traveling were far from ideal, yet none of us were beset by fever. To suffer one now just seems… odd." She frowned at the thought.

"Still, your health is a paramount concern, Your Highness. Even such a momentary lapse must be given full consideration."

The concern was touching, even if overbearing. "I do not think the blood of Atkascha should shudder in fear of the smallest malady."

"Illness plagues your family, milady. It is only proper to be wholly concerned with it."

Even should she not be Atkascha? "Your point is made, Agrias," Ovelia said, more harshly than she intended. "If I am taken by sickness I will offer you my deepest apology, but I think it not so grave to warrant putting aside a visit to Ramza."

"As you command, Your Highness." Agrias bowed aside.

"Rather, I think I shall spend a time by his side," she declared. "With full privacy, if you may manage it."

The question rather took her Lionsguard aback. "For what reason, Your Highness?" Lavian asked. "The doctors and we do not intrude overly much, do we?"

"It is… tiring, having those doctors in the room with each conversation. They're too insistent." It would be rather spoiled to declare they didn't respect her title after all she griped with it. "Nor am I ungrateful for your concern, but… it is a weight on his shoulders to always mind his manners in your presence. And he would be well off with as little stress as possible."

"That is… true…" Lavian frowned. "We may… waylay, two of them aside, and have the third, and any other staff, brought outside for other talk." Lavian's eyes flashed. "Yes, mayhap use this talk of fever, as well-founded concern? Outside of your earshot, to not worry you unduely."

A funny little coincidence. "Then let us do so."

"Patience, Your Highness," said Agrias. "This will require the cooperation of Alicia and Annabelle as well. We shall need to dissuade Lettie and Celia from intruding as well."

They shadowed her movements as well as the Lionsguard. "Yes, thank you, Agrias, I had not put consideration to that."

She smiled. It'd taken near a month but she could finally have a moment alone with Ramza again.

It was a melancholic thrill that sitting up under his own power was an accomplishment for Ramza these days. He'd still not taken a step from bed since his wits returned. Memories of Delita's difficulties weighed on his mind every time. The longer he laid useless the harder 'twould be to even begin.

And all thoughts of settling back into a familiar physical exertion were banned by the three. Once he could actually begin a regimen again it had to be a magickal curriculum. His mana veins were still delicate. If they were not properly tempered now he might never cast again.

It struck him as peculiar, sore muscles needed rest, but he was the one in bed for improper use of magick. Little to reinforce his perceptions on the matter. Though, it did somewhat seem like an equivalent of his body weakening by languishing in bed.

He kept his mine as sharp as able. But one could only count the stones that made the ceiling, walls and floor (within vision) so many times before it became tiresome. Attempts to assume how many he weren't seeing led to counting beds, tables, chairs, curtains and windows.

He'd earned a healthy new respect for aspiring arithmeticians.

In came Ovelia and Lavian. Not quite either of their routine times, but a welcome relief from monotony and boredom.

Only the white mage (Derwin) was in room at the moment. And he was led outside by Lavian shortly after. The first time all three had vacated since he'd been aware.

And with Lionsguard absent, the first time he'd been alone with Ovelia in far too long. A blue cloak draped her shoulders and covered her beneath it.

The little smile that slipped unto her lips made clear as day she planned this.

"That was clever," he complimented her. "How have you been?"

She giggled lightly at his question. "Better, now that we've time like this." She took her familiar seat beside him. She pushed free her hands (a white dress underneath the cloak) and leaned forward.

Their hands met.

Even still sore as his was, he wasn't letting go.

With time again they talked. What they couldn't say to each other—really, her, as his side of their exchanges had already been spoken and were not of interest.

It was much of little things, more expressed opinions on books and her constant distaste of the conditions. The constant kneeling and lack of freedom.

Not much as it was; still a good thing to be open like this.

"Ramza," her face hardened, "I want to announce, about us."

A strange mixture of anticipation and dread welled inside. "What brought this on?"

"I am tired of being pressured into marriage," she sourly said. "Even after my direct refusal the marquis still floats the idea."

Forced into one marriage to be rid of another? Hardly proper first steps for a proper union. "I… would rather we delay—let-me-finish-please," he hastily tacked on before he hurt her. "I'd rather like to be able to kneel before I propose." Nothing about their time had been common or right or proper. He could scarce provide for her the duty and station she deserved, but every detail he could get right he would.

The breath Ovelia held as her mind went dark was loosed and replaced with relief. Much preferable. (He did as well not that he was aware he had held.) The heartbeat pounding so loudly in his chest could not be well for his health but he'd have it no other way.

"For true?" Both her hands took his on in between them. "It will be difficult, I'm aware, but we can make the marquis listen."

"Perhaps peruse any books on Orators." He'd dabbled back at Mullonde. Not as much as he should, honestly. Certainly the journey here could have been aided by being more erudite. "We'll need every manner of persuasion we can."

Lionsguard (Annabelle would be furious, and right after they'd become less hostile); Stone? Mayhap not… If he spoke the truth to Count Orlandeau?

They were too out of sorts. He'd not even the funds to purchase rings or host a wedding. They'd imposed enough on their hosts—as if they would even let it progress so far.

This is what she wanted and he'd support her. They were in love.

What else could it be?

Every word to describe haste applied and he did not care.

"We should not tarry, any longer," said Ovelia, and broke their grasp. "We are lucky to earn even this little time."

"I can think of something rather quick to best end this on."

It had been so sudden but so… nice. But also awkward and they'd never talked about it. Was it good? Bad? He leaned to the former but she never repeated and he didn't want to impose and—he just went for it and kissed her once again.

She didn't pull back, she didn't relent. She pushed forward in their embrace and he embraced this as everything he ever wanted.

But breaths needed to be taken and they pulled back.

Cheeks of both aflame—alive.

She smiled and he leaned forward—the door splintered inwards and Marquis Elmdore stomped into the room.

"Not only your father's face but his ardor as well. Release Her Highness before your head is released boy." His hand quivered on the handle of his still-sheathed katana. One misstep and the blade would be loose. He meant every word of it.

Ovelia leapt from her seat hands moving to accuse. "Marquis Elmdore what is the meaning of this!?"

The Lionsguard and three doctors followed in after her words.

"I'd thought to have more time than this but you've forced my hand," he replied with a cooling fury. "Your Highness, step away. You've played the part written for you in a script penned by Dycedarg Beoulve wonderfully. Any affection you've garnered for him has been planned by his elder brother."

"Ridiculous!" she retorted.

"Absurd," Ramza added on. "I've turned my back on my lord brother's ways!"

"So makes a fantastic tale," Elmdore replied, his eyes darting between the two of them. "The noble knight turning his back on a family for the sake of a princess? Risking life and limb a dozen times for her sake? 'Twould come as no surprise to blossom into more. Quite the simple plot to hoe."

"He lies in bed from defending me and has thrice-more approached the gates of Paradise repeating that act."

"All such wounds inflicted by blades of the Northern Sky," Elmdore responded. "Constrained and blunted to not be fatal." Elmdore shot him a narrow stare. "As well as any self-inflicted magicks."

Ramza scoffed. "I'm hostage to this bed; your men all claim I'm near-invalid, yet you accuse these wounds intentionally taken?"

"Such carefully measured farce at play at Limberry's gates. How convenient they did not swarm your self the moment your taunts went high. Blood shed is more convincing than victory claimed flawlessly."

Ovelia threw her arm in front of Ramza protectively. "He has confided in me and protected me near-equal to a Lionsguard and I'll not hear such slander from you any longer Marquis."

"You are too taken in by his story, Highness," Elmdore hissed. "The moment his troop brought me to Eagrose I was met with demands and concessions as price for my rescue. Altruism died with their lord father."

He turned even that to his advantage? Ramza could only gape at the audacity. To hold no concern for commons was a vile standard of the nobility but not even other highborn? What, then, did Ramza expect? Dycedarg's assassins were after Ovelia's life. He should have realized this sooner, if anything.

"I am aware his intent was not so selfless because he told me," she steadfastly declared. "He declared this was for his own benefit as well."

"Yet still you defend him and his brother's tainted hands."

"Do not think yourself absent any intent to use me for your own ends either, Marquis," she shot at him. "He gave me more chance to decide my future than you did when he faced those 300."

"And had Cid and I not saw fit to intervene your only choice of future was death."

"Did you just not say blood shed is more convincing than none?" she retorted expertly.

"Twisting my words does not give credibility to him."

"How then, does twisting the truth lend credence to your claims?"

Her words paused any reply from the Marquis for a moment. She hadn't won, but she was putting up more resistance than Elmdore expected. It was a welcome sight to see her radiance again.

The Lionsguard, though more accustomed to their lady's triades, clearly hadn't expected this course of events. They restrained themselves. Their lady could match equal here.

The wroth which the Marquis had entered with had finally found temper. He steeled his face with a deep breath. "Then let us hear his story in full," he declared.

Were he in better condition Ramza might not have flinched at the levy.

When he did a smile crept unto the Marquis's lips. "He already springs back, because he knows his story lies. You're not as practiced in deceit as your brother is."

"Aye," he agreed, "I patron myself to the truth more often."

"Then the truth is?"

Impossible to tell. Not even Zalbaag would take the truth as given. What chance did the marquis have to listen?

"Not for you to know, Marquis," Ovelia interjected. "I have experience the veracity of Ramza's words first-hand."

"Did Dycedarg spit in your face he was responsible then?" She could not respond to that. "No, I did not think so. It is concealed because brought to fore 'twould be simple to disprove."

"What reason is there even for your accusation?" she switched discussion. "For what dastardly purpose would they want my life taken yet still allow me into your hands?"

"'Tis not scenario ideal; a secondary plot or tertiary perhaps. Contingencies are a basis of warfare and he excels in that craft."

That rankled at Ramza's mind for a reason he knew not.

"That is… that is simply absurd!"

"Your temper betrays your doubts."

"I have none regarding him," she declared.

Elmdore gave an explosive sigh. "You've let honeyed words and a daring crusade blind you, Highness. How clear do you know him beyond his name and face? What more to he, than swinging sword or casted spell?"

"And what do you know of him beyond his half-blood brother?" she remarked back. "I have seen his flaws—our first troubles of combat he saw fit to announce he'd abandon me."

"...I… what?" The question mayhap caught him more off-guard than anything save Saint Ajora returning to Ivalice. Even the Lionsguard shot him disgusted looks. "And you defend him?" his tone tinged mystified.

It sounded wrong hearing about it, yet at the time, for the reasons he had...

"How absurd it sounds, I know. Then and now. He would have left me to locate a friend washed down the river. Who here would have made such a choice?"

"Never, Your Highness," Agrias spoke for the Lionsguard.

But Marquis Elmdore had told her flee so that he might preserve his lands. He could not answer.

"I'd little choice but to follow him. Never once had I been taught how to live on my own." She looked at him, face soft in spite of harsh words. "He fought again. To protect me. He called lightning upon himself to vanquish our pursuers."

"He has played that act again and again, just because he struck himself with thunder—"

"Thundaja," Ramza corrected.

"You cannot strike yourself with Thundaja," Elmdore pointed out.

"You can when you've enemies' metal within your gut."

"Then you should have died."

He'd lost track of how many times death should have applied for him by now.

"You did not listen," she rebuked him. "He was willing to abandon me. If this was all for a plan to remove me, why not let me reach to Eagrose? Why not take it when we were alone? Why would he search for a friend rather than see his duty to the end?"

Elmdore had no swift reply to that. A look of deeper consideration betrayed him. "I am not the full examiner of Dycedarg's means," he said. "But it reeks of too coincidental that he happens to overhear plans against you, Highness. That is not the level of carelessness to expect from him."

Ramza said, "He is not without flaws his own. The Corpse Brigade attack on our manse left him bedridden. Even he can be careless. As he was again. You scarce believe I would betray blood so neither would he."

Suspicion remained deeply etched on Elmdore's face as he scrutinized the pair. "You turned your back on your House… for what?"

"'Tis it so difficult to believe 'for righteous cause?'"

"The luxury of youth," he remarked. "Yes—I do not believe. To throw aside and take stand against family on but hushed words? I overlooked this story for the benefits it brought but now you stand at trial. You reveal no confrontation with him. No talk with Zalbaag. Only an act of spying which you claim no mastery of. Either as a man of forthright boldness or shadowed intent, you had every avenue a better approach than absconding here as your first."

Dammit. There was no answer to give. Even if he revealed his reasons for turning against brother that would make Elmdore's accusations more entrenched.

"Alma told him."

Ovelia drew all attention back to herself.

"Who?"

"His trueborn sister and last of the Beoulves. She overheard Dycedarg's plot and told Ramza, and I. He did not wish to bring his sister to your attention in any way but I'll not stay silent."

If Alma knew that certainly would be a truth.

"Why does Beoulve daughter concern herself with your well-being, then?"

"We studied together, for a time, at Orbonne Monastery. We were friends." Ovelia stopped but Ramza knew, in any other circumstance, she would have ended with: Perhaps my only friend.

All of Elmdore's pointed intent about blood first had been turned against him. "She believed her own kin so capable of such, so easily?"

"Ziekden Fortress proved our brother capable of such," said Ramza. "He had Delita's sister killed rather than capitulate to the Corpse Brigade in any fashion."

"Delita?—Herial's sister? Your denouncement of your brother is because he had a commons girl killed?" Elmdore could not help but gaze in... wonderment? "By the Gods that must be the truth."

'Twas Ramza's turn for surprise. "How...?"

"'Tis too absurd to be a lie. It's difficult even to articulate a proper response to this." The Marquis shook his head. "One girl," he repeated. "I've seen noble men more chuffed by the ash on their clothes than all the lives lost in villages they just burned. Slavers left to profit on broken commons 'til they take nobleborn as product. Landed nobles who hire bandits to steal more gil from those to be under their protection."

"I believe, Ramza Beoulve, because no one would otherwise be so daft as to make a claim that the life of one commons girl was justification enough to abandon family ties. And certainly is such a thing inconsiderable by Dycedarg."

Even the famed friend of commons Marquis found him fool for this? Tietra's life was not so worthless.

"Do not insult the honor that led him to protect me," Ovelia demanded.

"Honor must be matched with sense, Highness," Elmdore replied. "Which has its leave of both of you. Whatever illicit affair between you stops this instant."

"Govern your tongue, Marquis," Agrias interjected. "One more careless remark about our lady and any oaths of hospitality no longer apply."

"'Tis not for you to decide whom I give favor to," Ovelia steadfastly declared.

Marquis Elmdore split his attention from the two ladies demanding it. His rebuttal addressed both, "Ill-manners on my part, I agree. But these matters are of such grave import, that they spark passion aplenty. Too much so. With cooler heads, then, let me say thus: Your Highness you must not be taken in by him, regardless of where his loyalties lie. You need allies and political advantage and he offers none."

"He does."

Elmdore shook his head. "Mayhap, in a future flung far, where this war is done and you are queen. A Beoulve would work wonders for trust among White Lion lands. But what is before you, remains the important part. There may be no future if there is no present."

"Then why have you not made any offers of betrothal between yourself and I?"

He shifted uncomfortably at the accusation. "I am your ally already."

"But it fulfills your goal, both future and present, does it not?"

"It does—but others will gain you more."

" I…" she struggled.

If only he could stand to comfort her.

"I do not want more—I want him."

Ramza pushed his legs over the edge. He braced his arms to force himself up. His legs were… like they weren't there. Like they were empty of everything that let him stand. If he'd tried to put weight on them, he'd have just awkwardly collapsed.

Elmdore took a deep, deep breath. "Your Highness, it is only natural, after being in the company of him after so long sequestered that certain biases would form. You are of that age—we've all held such passions. He has, acknowledged by all, risked his life a great deal many times for your sake. Noble, and valiant, for sure. Your judgement is sound, but it is not wise."

"Huh?" Ramza confusion slipped his grip and he tumbled down.

Ovelia knelt to his side. "You're hurt," she noticed, without regard for the Marquis's accusations.

He was always hurt. "Yeah…" One of his scars was cut on falling. Stupid. Even if it was minor.

Ovelia grabbed a nearby swatch of cloth and covered it for him. (Over the doctor's objections.)

"Thank you."

"It is but a small thing, compared to all you have done."

"Enough," Elmdore declared.

"Enough, indeed," Ovelia said right back. "You have overstepped your bounds, Marquis. You—none of you, have say in this matter."

Already bitter Lionsguard hardened further.

Instead his gaze shifted to Ramza. "The matter clears. Will you not be the one to speak the truth you so claim to champion or will that duty fall unto me?."

"I am befuddled entirely to what you mean," he answered… truthfully.

His answer only seemed to narrow the marquis's eyes. He placed hand to chin in some thought his own. "So, that is how it is, then." He turned his back to them. "So be it. Come to terms with on your own pace but do not twaddle for long, we've not the time to indulge flights of fancy." With condescending and mysterious words the marquis left them.

His departure now changed attention and Ovelia was quick to answer. She looked at the Lionsguard. "Agrias, Annabelle, Lavian, Alicia… each of you deserves to know." She met eyes with each as she said their names. "At my nadir he saw fit to care. Care about me, not the title I hold. He offered to flee, run from Ivalice and its attempts to end my life. Throw aside all he had to not just save my life but pursue any happiness. Always has it been 'duty', 'honor', 'station'. Even when you tried, Agrias… everyone, there was always the wall of 'Princess' between us."

Agrias stepped forward. "Because we respect you, Your Highness."

"I know!" Ovelia shouted. "You respect me. You have fought for my sake. But each was always for Princess Ovelia. But he… he fought for Ovelia. He fought for her and the princess. I honor your loyalty—I do, but ever is there that gulf between us. Only Ramza… and Alma dared cross that."

The Lionsguard turned downcast. Their lady did not trust in them as she had him.

"Agrias… everyone, I'm sorry," Ovelia apologized to her knights.

"You need not say such a thing, Your Highness," Agrias responded. But there was bitterness at the betrayal in her words. "We are your knights regardless. We depart." They dragged the medical staff away with them, leaving Ovelia and Ramza alone once more.

"They are cross with me," Ovelia admitted. "I should not have hidden this from them."

Gods, there was no good answer to that. "They… will understand."

"I hope so…"

They'd not even the interlude to properly explain themselves. Or make their announcement.

Gods, may this all work out.

AN: I don't even have an excuse for this one's extreme break.

Thanks everyone sticking around.