The Dalmascan armour felt unnatural to Gabranth. Air brushed too freely over his face, the heavy fabrics too flexible for a swordsman used to full-plate. It offered little protection to the vitals and none at all to the head: little wonder that the Archadians' victory had been so absolute.
For years, Gabranth had wondered if he had chosen the right path, if his brother had not been right in his actions, in his choice to abandon his homeland. But proof of the Archadian Empire's superiority was in the fates of both Nabradia and Dalmasca. It lay also in the fate of Landis but he chose not to dwell on that. The past was unchanging and his own choice had been the better.
Nalbina Fortress was a wreck, the fighting between the remains of the Dalmascan Resistance and the might of the imperial forces laying waste to the place. His soldiers sloshed through walkways flooded when parts of the fortress's towers had fallen. Airship debris still fell on the broken flagstones, the paling not yet restored.
The interior of the fortress had fared little better. The stone work in the wall columns was chipped, the blue marble inlays laced with cracks like cobwebs. Checkerboard floor tiles had been pounded into dust by the marching of thousands of heavily armoured men. Torn banners hung from walls like ghosts of the Nabradian forces.
A single imperial soldier approached from the corridor behind them. "Their arrival is imminent. A small number have been separated. We move."
Gabranth nodded at the soldiers. They could not fail now; Dalmasca would surrender and he would be promoted. The Order of the Knights of Dalmasca was at their doorstep, among them, Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg, Gabranth's traitor brother and the player upon whom the game's outcome rested. Basch may have thought himself a skilled warrior but Gabranth's orders were clear; Basch must reach the treaty room alive.
King Raminas stood as Gabranth and his men moved into the treaty room, cutting down the unsuspecting guards. Confusion writ bold upon his face, Raminas moved to defend himself. But before he could take a single step, Gabranth was there with a knife to bury in his chest.
"Captain Basch…" the King wheezed.
Gabranth smiled. "My apologies, your Majesty." He pushed the old man back into his chair. "But we could not allow you to sign this treaty."
"The treaty is signed."
"With steel, your Majesty. Writ in royal blood."
"Captain…" The King's head rolled to the side, blood pooling in his lap. Again, the King's mistake made Gabranth smile. Being mistaken for his brother had seldom before worked in his favour.
"They approach," one of the soldiers hissed, stepping away from the door.
"Kill them all. Spare only the Captain. I would have him watch." Gabranth took out his sword, ready to strike down the resistance as the doors flew open.
Three men in Dalmascan armour rushed in, their advance halted by the swords of the imperials. The clash of steel on steel rang out as they tried to fight, outnumbered more than three to one. Their captain froze, eyes on Gabranth.
"Noah!"
"My name is Gabranth. Judge Gabranth." He smiled at the look of shock on the Captain's face, an imperfect reflection of his own.
"Brother, please—"
Gabranth's blade arced through the air, slicing across Basch's face. "You're no brother of mine."
Basch fell, the soldiers surrounding him. "Noah—"
"Silence him," Gabranth commanded. "We await our witness. See that the others do not make it this far. When the game is won, take him to the dungeons." He watched Basch struggle as the soldiers dragged him to a corner of the room, waiting in the shadows. The best view in the house.
It was not long before the last Dalmascan soldier crept into the room. He was young – probably an orphan, fighting to survive. Just a kid: not the witness they had been expecting. His eyes focussed only on the remnants of his fallen comrades and the body of the slain king.
"Your Majesty," the boy murmured as Gabranth drew up behind him. He span around, too late to defend himself. Once again, the Dalmascan armour was useless as Gabranth slid his blade between the boy's ribs. "Captain… Why?"
"His Majesty was a traitor," Gabranth begun, signalling to his allies to move in and 'arrest' him. The boy fell, weakened. Gabranth looked back as the men rushed him. The boy would live at least long enough to tell all that he had seen. Beyond that…
Gabranth continued shouting at the imperials as they manhandled him to the floor, his part as the traitor captain well-rehearsed. Even as Vayne Solidor, the Archadian Emperor's son stood before him, he continued, relishing the opportunity to spit venom at the man who would probably sooner kill him than look at him. Finally, they dragged him away, the boy left unconscious on the floor.