14 Leo
Today I’ve learned that in the whole of Ivalice, the reed flute is something only the Beoulves can pass on. One would have thought, with all the reed available, children everywhere would have ventured out by themselves to try such things, though admittedly, I’d never gotten the hang of it myself.
And apparently so, neither did the princess. I wanted to chat with Lavian and Alicia and passed the princess and Agrias musing about our prospects in running up to them. I had just managed to hear a gods awful sound emerging when Ovelia tried to whistle on a piece of grass after she had explained she learned it from a dear friend but had never gotten the hang of it. My ears agreed. She hadn’t. Then, Agrias asked if it was Alma of the house Beoulve?
And I was thrown back to a year ago when Ramza and Delita both played the reed flute, and I had caught mention that Ramza’s father had taught them both. Odd, but I could see some use for it in battle situations.
As I passed the princess and Agrias, I saw a familiar shape hiding in the shadows. Ramza! What in the hells was he doing eavesdropping on a princess of all people?! The pervert! I wanted to shout at him, just to have the satisfaction of having him discovered, but Mustadio was a step ahead of me. He had been looking all over for Ramza, he shouted, as Ramza hastily gestured to be quiet.
Too late. Agrias and the princess came out to see what the commotion was about, so I continued my path towards the back of the ruins to have a chat with the girls. We’d be moving soon, and it was safe enough, the Northern Order had not followed us.
As we chatted away, the wind delivered us the sound of two reed flutes. Ramza had successfully taught Ovelia how to play the reed flute. Honestly, how do those Beoulves do that, anyway? I must ask Ramza to teach me too! Or Alma, if we ever see her again – – wait, perhaps not Alma, my pained ears reminded me.
Balias Tor
With the prospect of meeting the cardinal to ensure Ovelia’s safety and whatever Mustadio wanted to speak with the cardinal about, we pressed on to Balias Tor. Not surprisingly enough, we were stopped by more sellswords. They didn’t wish to quarrel with us, the leader warned, just with Mustadio.
Agrias was having none of it. With the fierceness of a lion, she told the sellsword that since we were going the same way as Mustadio, they had best to withdraw if they didn’t want any quarrel with us.
I was ready for it. I had just decided to pick up the black arts again and couldn’t wait to cast some fireballs onto this deceitful lot. Though when one of the sellswords materialised Ramuh for the first time, I knew what my next job would be. I’d do anything in my power to become a summoner!
The mercenaries fell rather quickly, and though Mustadio remained thankful for our support, he still would not tell us why these men were after him.
Why, Mustadio, why?
I am Bathsua, caster of death by fire, and these are my memoirs.
Memoirs of a squire 