My first set of Campfire Vignettes covered Chapter 1 of the game, and this not surprisingly will be covering Chapter 2.

Things you should know about the Vignettes, in semi-random order:

1. Though this is the second set of Campfire Vignettes, they stick to canon, so you absolutely do not have to have read the others to get something out of these. You may enjoy them if you do read them, of course, but they aren't necessary.

2. However, if you have read them, you may get more out of this set – that goes doubly for having read Just Another Sellsword, which will give you an early introduction to Ladd, who isn't a personality-free generic, here. That one's just a short-story, so I would recommend that you read it at some point, as it won't take too long. (Click through to my profile to find it)

3. Feel free to ignore points 1. and 2. and just read and (hopefully) enjoy.

4. I promise, mostly these will not dip into the realms of depression that the post-kidnapping vignettes sometimes did, last time around. Ramza's still a bit depressed and still working through his grief, but he's trying hard not to wear his heart on his sleeve. It may not be all sunlight and flowers, but I'll try to steer clear of the deepest dark pits too.

5. They're not really a novelisation; they're more like a series of connected short stories, though they aren't quite that either. When I conceived the idea, I set myself the challenge of writing at least one vignette for each "day" of story-line game-play. (If you've played the game you probably have some idea of what I'm on about, even though I'm not explaining it well.) They're meant to elaborate on the characters in the game, who could use some fleshing out.

6. I'm not the world's most accomplished writer, but I do try hard not to suck too badly, either. I sometimes fail, though. Argath (tosser!), for instance, was woefully underdeveloped in the first set of vignettes. If you feel I'm doing badly at something, tell me, please (though try not to be too unpleasant – life's too short for people to be needlessly unpleasant to each other, don't you think?) :)

7. I'm a reasonably fast touch typist, which means that I can do stream of consciousness straight onto the "page". This leads to each vignette's header and footer becoming altogether too wordy, when I don't rein myself in - which I'm about to do right now!

Almost lastly (phew!) - the part of this that isn't quite canon is that instead of exactly a year having passed since the Ziekden Fortress disaster, it's been just over fourteen months. Not a huge difference, but worth pointing out.

Lastly lastly, as I've already hinted, I'd really appreciate any constructive criticism/reviews/comments – I appreciate all of them and I always try to ensure I respond individually to each one. I also try to apply any suggestions about style, retrospectively if necessary.


Vignette 1 – Lionsguards and Sellswords

A clearing, just off the Orbonne to Dorter road, late evening

Eight hours after the Princess' abduction, they set up camp, unable to go on in the darkness. The rain, thank the gods, had finally stopped an hour or so before.

Lady Agrias simply gave Goffard Gaffgarion and his two men a fulminating glance, grabbed up their empty water skins and stalked off into the night, towards the stream they had passed five minutes before, shaking her head and muttering balefully.

After unbuckling and removing his heavy breastplate, the youngest of the mercenaries started a fire and then tentatively approached the elder of the two remaining female knights, who was just finishing erecting the women's tent. Though her demeanour wasn't as hostile as her captain's, none of the women's attitudes, during the afternoon's forced march, could have been described as friendly.

"Lady Lavian, isn't it? I'm Ramza, I act as our little squad's quartermaster. Shall we pool our rations and I'll see if I can cook all of us up something edible. After the soaking we've all had, I think something hot would be preferable."

"Can you cook?" The knight asked him, sceptically. Ramza sighed very slightly.

"I... well, I'm no Master chef, but I'm not too bad. We picked up some fresh bread and a couple of cheeses at the monastery this morning and Ladd shot a couple of rabbits this afternoon – he's preparing them – and I thought I could smell wild garlic a few hundred yards back, so I'll go and investigate. As I said, something hot after all that marching would be welcome, so, er... a thick soup... or... something?" The women's unfriendliness made him nervous.

"I'll go and smell out the garlic; the soup sounds like a good idea. Alicia can tell you what we can contribute." She added as she turned away. Ramza turned to glance at the younger woman, who, by the look of her, wasn't much older than he - perhaps nineteen to his eighteen. To be fair, he thought, the Lady Lavian probably wasn't older than Ladd, who was twenty-one.

He also noticed that Lady Alicia was wan and sickly-looking and he remembered that Ladd had had to Phoenix Down her during the fight. There was a decent-sized rock next to the fire and he gestured for her to seat herself on it. He rummaged in one of his food bags until he found an apple. He polished it briefly against his jerkin before he handed it to her.

She smiled at him gratefully before biting into it – a regular supply of fruit, or anything else sweet, was a real boon in the hours after being resurrected – if you couldn't just rest, like you were meant to, it stopped you from experiencing the worst of the tremors and cold sweats that could develop, ultimately, into unconsciousness. Of course unconsciousness, or rather sleep, was actually the very best thing for recovery, but there had barely been time for her to grab a handful of dried fruit to eat as they walked, never mind take a nap.

"If you can just tell me what supplies you have and where to find them, I'll make a start on that soup. Once you've finished that apple, you should probably try to get a little sleep – even a few minutes is a big help in recovering, I've always found. I'll make sure someone wakes you in time for supper." He gave her a hesitant smile, which she returned with far less uncertainly.

"I'll go in just a moment but I'd better tell you about the supplies before I do. We've some barley and vegetables that we can donate, in that pack over there, but in the rush to leave, I think we left behind the more sophisticated foodstuffs we were going to be carrying for the princess. We've plenty of bowls for some reason, though, so soup sounds a good idea. I'm not a bad cook, and I would offer to help, but I can barely stop myself shaking. When it comes to cooking, Lavian isn't much good, but I gather that she's miles better than Lady Agrias, so if you need a hand, I'd ask Lavian."

"Ladd's pretty awful at cooking too," The other man grinned cheerfully and made a vaguely threatening gesture at his colleague, with the knife he was using to skin the rabbit. Ramza just smiled back, "but he's good at bringing down small game with a crossbow, then dressing it. Ser Gaffgarion... just... well, he just leaves us to it."

Alicia glanced across at the large, dark man, who had produced a wineskin from somewhere in the packs and was sitting, taking the occasional swig, glowering into the fire.

"Is he always so cheerful?" Alicia asked quietly. Ramza glanced quickly at his leader, then nodded very slightly with a small smile on his face.

"What about your captain?" He asked equally quietly.

"She's been head of the princess' guard since just after the war ended and she's developed a genuine affection for her Highness; she must be beside herself with worry. She's normally somewhat more... personable than she has been today." Again, he nodded slightly, then began to sort out the soup ingredients. Alicia headed for her tent and a nap. Ramza smiled briefly at her retreating back, it was a relief that one of the Lionsguards showed no hint of hostility.


Ingredients chopped finely, even a substantial soup doesn't take long to cook and all six of them sat around the fire, eating it with the excellent Orbonne bread and wedges of cheese, less than an hour later, the newly awoken Alicia yawning but looking a little less pale and unwell. After dinner, Gaffgarion took a new wineskin to bed with him, grunting out something to Ladd and Ramza about splitting the night watches between them.

Agrias watched him go, feeling a sense of relief that his sour, coarse presence had been removed. Of course, she was pretty sour herself, this evening, she acknowledged inwardly. She wished that the other two sellswords could be disposed of as easily as their boss but, as they were chatting fairly companionably with her two subordinate knights and it was still relatively early in the evening, she could hardly send them to bed like naughty children.

The two young men had surprised Agrias by being well-spoken and less uncouth than their master. She had let the conversation between Alicia, Lavian and them wash over her, only hearing portions of it between her bouts of brooding.

Ladd, the elder and far more garrulous of the two, was speaking now.

"... we didn't really know each other at the Akademy, of course, I was three years ahead of Ramza, but I recognised him, almost immediately, when we ran into each other in Dorter about two months ago. Ser Gaffgarion was looking for another man and I knew he wouldn't turn away an Akademy trained fighter."

"You're both Gariland Akademy graduates and you're working as sell-swords?" Agrias found herself saying, sceptically. Ladd gave a slight start as he heard her voice; it was the first time she had spoken all evening.

"Ah... well, my lady, I never said either of us actually graduated." Ladd said with a rueful smile. "Perpetual squires, doomed to never be truly knighted, I'm afraid - the pair of us." He added with a shrug.

She raised a brow but said nothing more – she'd just given the only contribution she was to make to the conversation. She went back to brooding quietly about how she could have been such a fool as to leave the princess without a single guard at her side, except poor Elsebee, who had dragged herself into the room to warn them about the attack, while she was appallingly injured.

Still sceptical about the pair's claim to have gone to such a prestigious training school, she half-listened as Ladd explained, somewhat sheepishly, that one of the instructors had been unhappily married to a much younger woman and how he, Ladd, had been expelled after being found in a compromising situation with her. It was clear that he saw himself as something of a ladies' man, if his attempts at flirtation with Lavian, in particular, was anything to go by, so she felt that, if she could believe anything, it would be this story.

Asked laughingly by Alicia if he had also had to leave school after seducing one of the masters' wives, Ramza had just blushed a little and mumbled something about being forced to leave after having problems with his family in his final year.

Agrias' thoughts about everything she could have done differently, today, were briefly interrupted by the regret that all three of the women had served their apprenticeships out at the Yardrow Akademy instead of Gariland and hence couldn't verify or disprove the young men's claims. From what had been said about the men's ages, Lavian would have been in the same year as Ladd, Agrias a year ahead of them and Alicia in the class above of Ramza, had they all been at the same school.

She rose suddenly, announcing her intention of going to bed.

"Two watches only – I'll take second. Alicia, you don't need take a watch, tonight." It was clear that Alicia would not be completely over being resurrected until she had had a full night's rest. She nodded gratefully and followed Agrias to their tent. Ramza got up and headed off to bed, himself, stopping to slap his friend on the shoulder and murmur.

"I'll let you take your watch with Lady Lavian, but do try to behave yourself, all right?" Ladd grinned at him and made a gesture as if adjusting a halo above his head. Ramza only grimaced slightly at him.


Ladd shook Ramza awake for his watch in the early hours. He emerged from the tent at the same time as the Lady Agrias left hers. He saw her shiver slightly, in the early Autumn chill, and nodded towards the fire.

"Warm yourself, my lady, I'll walk the perimeter." He finished doing up the buckles of the straps that held his dark-painted breastplate in place, as he reached the line of trees.

After ten minutes he returned to her. She sat turned away from the fire, as if trying to keep some night vision, but she wasn't looking around, just staring fixedly at the ground. He looked at her thoughtfully, sighed, then after asking her permission to sit, settled down near her, peering off into the dark woods for signs of trouble. Suddenly she spoke fiercely.

"After the fight, you said that you thought that you recognised him. Who is he and how do you know him?" Ramza took a deep steadying breath, he'd expected this question to come much earlier, though he still felt unprepared to answer it.

"His name is Delita Heiral, we were close friends as children. It... it might help if I tell you that we were brought up to show the utmost respect to women and I promise you, he won't harm the princess."

"And I suppose he rendered her unconscious using respectful behaviour?" She almost spat the words at him. Ramza looked off into the darkness.

"No... I... no, you're right. I haven't seen him in over a year, but the Delita I knew would never have done that. Yet... I still feel certain he won't do anything more to harm her." Delita liked pretty girls - a lot - but he wasn't disrespectful towards them.

"You fill me with such confidence." She said, witheringly. "So... are you working with him?"

"What? No! Why... How could you even...?"

He realised his voice was louder than it should be while the others were sleeping and trailed off. He took a couple of deep breaths before continuing. When he did, he forced himself to replace the indignation in his tone with a measure of calm he didn't entirely feel.

"Of course, I realise that it is rather a coincidence and you have no reason to trust me. Working for Goffard Gaffgarion is hardly a recommendation, after all, is it? But please think about it for a moment. Would I have confessed to knowing him if I was part of this plot?"

"Possibly not," she conceded grudgingly, "but I still want to know more details – tell me about this Delita and how you know him."

He cleared his throat slightly then began slowly, each word feeling like a punch to his gut. He didn't want to paint a negative picture of Delita, especially after all this time thinking he was dead... but for him to be involved in this... Ramza knew in these circumstances that he had to be as honest as possible for the princess' sake.

"Delita is ambitious and he's very good at planning and solving problems – he sees what he wants and he doesn't stop until he achieves his goal. Above all, though, he's a pragmatist - you need to understand that – it's his greatest asset when he's planning something. He'll have thought about what to do if we catch up with him and he'll know how to react to get what he needs from the situation.

"As for how we knew each other, his mother and mine were best friends, when they were girls. After his parents and most of the rest of his family died of plague ten years ago, he and his sister came to live with my family. He and I are the same age to within a few months and we each had a sister only a year or so younger, so we all four became very close. My two brothers are a lot older than the four of us, so while I respected them, I was far closer to Delita, Tietra and Alma than I ever was to my brothers. Tietra, Delita's sister, died a little over a year ago. I was certain that Delita had been killed on the same day. I was injured myself, but even so... I just assumed... which means I left him for dead... and he wasn't." The last was said in a hoarse horror-stricken voice. This was something he'd been trying, all day, to avoid thinking about.

Ramza sat for a few moments more, as distracted as Lady Agrias, who hadn't seemed to take in much above half of what Ramza had said, but then he sighed and pushed himself to his feet. He headed off to the treeline to patrol again. He couldn't truthfully have called himself "on watch" though, as the tears that he had been holding back after forcing himself to recall that terrible day, complete with this new, horrifying realisation, quickly began to cloud his vision.


Earlier that night, the woods close to Dorter.

"I said, no thank you." Her tone could have frozen any of the more fiery nether-hells.

"Your Highness, you must eat something." The dark man spoke well and, apart from the blow that had taken her senses, he had been strangely courteous. There was bread, cheese and a pasty of some sort on the metal plate he had tried to hand her. The deep brown eyes regarded her, glanced at the plate and back at her again. She watched him tear a small piece off each of the foodstuffs and pop them into his mouth. After swallowing them, he spoke again.

"I apologise for handling your food, but as you can see, there's no poison or drugs." He said, after a few moments, proffering the plate again - she didn't take it from him.

"I'm not hungry. Surprisingly, it appears that being assaulted and kidnapped does nothing for my appetite!" She folded her arms and glared at him.

"Sarcasm, and a whole sentence - we appear to be making progress... I'm truly sorry I hit you, Princess. I don't expect you to believe this, but what I did today saved your life." He looked at her for a long moment, his face inscrutable, then looked away and grabbed up a couple of branches and threw them onto the campfire, almost as if he was made uncomfortable by her continued glare.

"You're right; I don't believe you!" She said and heard him sigh. He glanced back at her plate of untouched food and set it down on the grass next to her, reaching into the packs and producing a pasty for himself. He'd eaten more than half of it before he spoke again.

"You know, Princess, I remember one time when I was a little boy, I refused to eat my dinner. My grandmother, who lived with us, had it served to me for breakfast again the following day and told me that I'd be given that at every meal until I learned to appreciate that food doesn't come for free and we have to eat what we are given. Though, I think, what I actually learned was that cold cabbage for breakfast is a truly vile thing!" He said, with the ghost of a grin. He quickly finished his pasty.

"So now I know what I'm being given for breakfast?" Her tone sarcastic again.

"You can have anything I have with me for breakfast, Highness, if you'll only eat it. Foolishly, perhaps, I was simply trying to make conversation. It was a bad choice of topic, that's all. How terribly inept of me!" He rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger. "Forget it. I'll erect your tent and you can get away from my offensive presence."

It took him about ten minutes and, despite herself, as she watched him warily, Ovelia found herself surreptitiously breaking off a tiny piece of her pasty and eating it, while he wasn't looking. It was good. However, she ate no more of it, as she really didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her eat anything he had provided. When he was close to finished, her stomach let out an embarrassingly audible growl. He glanced over and, for the second time, she saw a smile play on his lips, for just a fleeting moment.

"If you'll eat something, I can still pretend you didn't, if that would make you feel better." He said.

Now who was being sarcastic? She glared at him for a moment, then sighed and broke the pasty in two and nibbled at one half, continuing to throw stormy looks his way. She watched him place a bedroll and blankets inside the tent, then place another bedroll outside, though within a foot of the entrance flap.

"If you try to sneak away in the night, you'll have me sleeping in there, right next to you. If you're compliant, you may have your privacy."

"You're so kind." She said, getting up and and stalking to the tent. As she stooped and entered, she saw him give a sketchy bow and then let down the entrance flap of the tent. She had been watching carefully and already knew that the tent flap fastened in several places, but only from the outside. Right now, running would be futile anyway - she had no idea what beasts lurked in these woods and, for all she knew, he might have accomplices close at hand.


Author's Note:

I hate the idea of a vapid, weak-minded Princess Ovelia, which I have seen done more than once. She's young and, because of a sheltered upbringing, she's terribly nave, but she isn't stupid and she's not entirely without spirit. Instead, I like the notion that, for now, she'll give Delita a run for his money.

Agrias, on the other hand, is right-royally pissed off; she's in overall charge of Ovelia's safety and security and she's just lost all control of the situation. She has failed in her duty; she's career military and so is her father, so she's been brought up with the idea that duty is paramount. She will undoubtedly continue to be less than pleasant to Ramza and Ladd until they prove themselves – she has no reason to like or trust them, after all.

[Just to be clear, Ramza's soup is not remotely like STEW (if you don't know what I'm waffling on about then try to lay hands on a copy of Diana Wynne Jones' "Tough Guide to Fantasyland", which is a hilarious satirical "guide book" of fantasy tropes for anyone who has read at least a couple of fantasy books. It would make a great stocking-filler for any fantasy fans.)]