Argath it

2 Aries

The rogues we had encountered in the backstreets of Gariland the other day, turned out to be of the Corpse Brigade. A band of “revolutionaries”, they would love to hear themselves called, standing up against the noblesse. In truth, they only cause trouble. Not just for the elite, but also for the common man down the street. After having seen Greg’s father being robbed by their members, I found it hard to imagine they weren’t using this honourable cause as an excuse to continue their bloodthirst after the Fifty Years War.

Sure, there is inequality in Ivalice, and there is a wide gap between the noblemen of Ivalice and its peasantry, but there is but little we can do about it. I heard Delita was a lowborn once, but I’m not sure if he can still be called that. He and his sister had lived with Ramza’s father for so long now, one could suggest they had broken the mould of the fate of their lowly existence. All the better for them, of course.

I am well aware of my privileges. Unlike Delita, I have been lucky enough to be born into a family of noble knights. That is why my brothers and I naturally enlisted in the Military Akademy of Gariland and were accepted without complaint. It was the natural way of things. But my father and his father before him had always fought to protect everyone, not just the noblemen and their families, or the priests. That is what we learned from our father early on, and it is what I continue to put into practice every day. We fight for everyone.

Before we continued on our journey towards Eagrose, Greg had decided to teach us all how to correctly administer potions and how to use them in battle. That way, he had said, he didn’t always have to be in the line of fire when things got a little heated, or when he would be otherwise engaged. Little did he know the latter scenario would arrive soon.

Mandalia Plains

We were on our way to Eagrose, fully equipped for the journey, when Delita stopped us all. Navarre had been travelling in the back for a while, still recovering from our encounters with the Corpse Brigade in Gariland, and here they were again, those “revolutionaries”. They had a hostage with them, and we had come just in time to thwart their plans to do away with the poor sod.

Though “poor” is probably not the best adjective to describe this knave with. Ramza decided that the squire was our primary concern, he was to be freed from the claws of the Brigade and protected by us. But as we prepared to battle, the sly little squire pulled out a sword and felled one of the brigands in one swoop! I haven’t seen anything like it before!

I mean, why would a well-organized band of “revolutionaries” neglect to strip their hostages off their weapons first? This was amateurism at best! If this was the tenure for the rest of the battle, it could have been an easy one.

We all thought it, surely. That is why we didn’t expect it, as we just waited around the brigands to die so we could ransack their bodies for extra consumables or equipment. Before we knew it, the brigands had gathered around Greg and pummelled him silly. He stood no chance. Of course, being the Gariland apothecary’s son, Greg was the only one among us who knew how to administer Phoenix down to rouse a fallen companion, and bad luck would have it that he was the first one to be targeted.

We couldn’t waste any more time standing around. Greg was about to bleed to death, those Brigade’s corpses could wait.

We grouped together to strike down the Brigade entirely, and I rushed towards Greg. Poor Greg, we were just in time. He still had some energy left to explain to me how to use the Phoenix down he had brought with him, but he was in bad shape.

The hostage, however, had no interest in what damage we had suffered keeping him safe from harm. He mumbled something about the marquis Elmdore being in danger. That Ramza was the son of a Beoulve of the order of the Northern Sky meant everything to him. How the poor squire begged Ramza to help him, it sounded like a cacophony to my ears. Could he not just try to be empathetic to the squires who had just saved his bleeding life? Was that too much to ask?

As I sat next to Greg, nursing him back to health, I idly listened to the conversation that reigned between the marquis’s squire Argath, Ramza, and Delita. The marquis had been taken by the Corpse Brigade. He would still be alive since he had a use for the Brigade, it was agreed, but Eagrose would certainly be in an uproar about this. It was our next stop, either way, so off we went…

Still, just a mere thank you would have sufficed, Argath. We did just save your bloody life and almost lost our chemist because of it.

I am Bathsua, the squire, and these are my memoirs.