Ramza looked at the empty space where he guessed something large and mechanical was supposed to wait.

"If enacting the true version of this memory does not see you free, perhaps we should try something else." There was steel in Ramza's voice. He wanted to do something to help. He was quite willing to go out and meet their foes head-on. His hand rested on his sword hilt, though he did not draw the blade without MarKus's permission.