Riovanes castle rooftop
Well, I guess Marquis Elmdore de Limberry isn’t dead after all. Despite the rumours floating between the empty jugs of ale in all the taverns in Ivalice, it appears that he has not been slain in battle but was alive and well and taunting us on the rooftops of Riovanes castle with his two trusted dancer retainers.
How that had even managed to catch me off guard, is an even bigger surprise than the surprise of finding not only someone who was supposed to be dead on those rooftops, but also even more intrigue.
Honestly, by now, dear readers, you would also think we had grown used to the numerous meanderings of my tale. After seeing Delita again, alive and well, and Wiegraf popping up everywhere (I truly hope he and his demonic form Belias are gone forever now), seeing Elmdore alive but also part of the greater conspiracy within the church of Glabados should not have surprised any of us. But it had.
Dancing the night away
Luso had insisted on coming along. He had mentioned something about being able to learn a special something to add to his game hunter repertoire. Honestly, sometimes it was as if this kid was from a different world, as if we weren’t even real to him, just characters in a tale he was reading. We had just witnessed Marach being shot by Duke Barrington protecting his sister, and that selfsame duke being flung off the roof like it was nothing by one of Elmdore’s dancers, and Luso could only think of what he could take away from the sorrowful battlefield we found ourselves on.
He needed to keep his wits about him and take this more seriously. We all had to. Ramza stood no chance. Lottie – or was it Celia? I heard Elmdore call out to them both – was swift in striking him down, and danced around perplexing any who would gaze upon her. Those dancers were amazing.
I took it upon myself to run to Rapha to protect her, after I had convinced Luso that now was really not the time to coax these girls to cast any kind of magic on him, no matter how bad he thought he needed it. Even Agrias had been knocked out at this point, and it was just my geomancer self and his game hunter self. And Rapha, of course.
Luckily, Luso’s common sense won, and he started hacking into – uh, Lottie, I think? – as I watched over poor Rapha. For a moment it seemed that this was it, we were done for. But when the dancer lady fell to her knees, Elmdore decided this was enough. He’d get the zodiac stone off us another way.
And off and away they teleported. Of course they did. It seems to be all they bleeding do.
I am Bathsua, protector of Rapha, and these are my memoirs.
Memoirs of a squire 