N/A: Here is my first Eragon fanfic ! It is basically an alternative fourth book, based on my own interpretation of the Vault of souls.

'Farm boys are not named for the first Rider without cause. Your namesake was the beginning, and now you are the continuation. Or the end'

Saphira to Eragon

Chapter 1 : Aftermath

After watching the sunrise with Saphira, Eragon decided to go see the wounded. Even though he was terribly tired from the fight with the shade and grieving his master's death, he still felt it his duty to help heal the soldiers and offer comfort to those who couldn't be saved.

For hours, he talked to dying men, healed others, taught the members of the Du Vrangr Gata he met a few healing words. Saphira had returned to his tent, but she was not sleeping either. They both knew that they would need some time together to grieve before they could even attempt to get some rest. So instead, she was sending him energy, helping him in his self-imposed quest of saving as many lives as possible.

He knew that, exhausted as he was, he would not make a real difference in the final numbers. On the scale of an army, saving a couple dozens of men was barely noticed if one counted the soldiers. But Eragon, though often younger than most of the soldiers, had already seen enough battles and destruction to realize the importance of maintaining the troops' morale as high as possible. That alone, as a Rider and therefore a leader of the Vardens, was more than enough to justify his actions.

But mostly, he hated war. He hated killing. Especially humans. If he had not discovered Saphira's egg, he would probably one of those agonizing men. And he did not even know on which side he would have ended. Oh, yes, he had always hated the Empire and its Mad King – no one in Carvahall appreciated Galbatorix. But if he had simply remained the farm boy, whose main struggle was finding enough meat to last the winter ? What then ? Once the Vardens and the elves started the war in earnest, he would have only three choices : pray for the war to remain far away from the Spine, flee the Empire to join the Vardens, or be forced to fight for the king. In fact, he would probably have had to choose one side sooner or later. War spared no one.

He was extremely thankful for his time with Oromis, and how the old Rider had forced him to think about the reasons he was fighting in this war. He was also glad that the other species where on their sides. After spending time with them – even the Urgals – he had mostly outgrown his old ingrained prejudices. He knew he would now have the same guilt in killing one of them as he would have in killing a human. Though that might also be a consequence of the fact that he did not really feel human as much as he used to.

He was not blind either. Urgals had a brutal society, which meant that any lasting peace would necessitate careful thinking. Elves were excessively prejudiced against other species – and their isolation of the last century had certainly not helped – often feeling superior to them, and failed to realize that a shorter life did not always equal a less experienced one. Humans were often selfish, and their personal interests often seemed to interfere with their duty; but was it not those same interests that gave them the will to keep going ? Dwarves had a complex society and a strong sense of family and, as he had seen first-hand, this tended to slow them in taking decision as a nation. But once given, their support was invaluable and their loyalty was true.

As for werecats... Well, he wasn't sure he would ever understand this particular species. Sometimes, he wondered if werecats understood themselves, and whether Angela's unique way of being was not a result of living with one. Saphira sniggered at the thought.

'I had never thought about it that way. It would explain much.' she said as smoke escaped her mouth from her quiet laughter.

'It would. But then again, perhaps she was the one who rendered them all mad in the first place. I confess I would very much like to witness a conversation between her and an elf...' Eragon approved with a smile.

'Um... I'm not sure such conversation would be safe for the witnesses...'

'You are probably right. It would be worth it though.'

'And quite a noble death ! You did not give your opinion about Dragons yet. I'm quite eager to hear it.' Saphira added.

Eragon could feel the feral smile in her tone. But he was not intimidated in the least.

'You should be though'

'As if you would hurt me. And you can't blame me for stating the truth.'

'Then let's hear your truth. And remember that I'm not above punishing you. As long has it does not cause any lasting harm, of course.'

'So kind of you... Anyway, I would say that Dragons are proud and independent, carefree spirits. Like the elves, you can have difficulties admitting your mistakes. But I'm not sure how much more I know. How were the wild Dragons organized ? Did they even have a political system ? How much was it influenced by the Bond with the other species ? How different were the Dragons who chose a Rider from those who were wild ? I do not know. I mean, you and I were taught about all this by Glaedr. But it is quite different from actually experiencing it as we have had the opportunity with the other species.'

'Well, I certainly can't contest your accusation of pride... And I also agree with your feelings on Dragons in general. I can only hope that we will one day have the opportunity to find out.' She concluded sadly.

During their talk, Eragon had healed three more men, two from the Vardens and one from Feinster. He much preferred healing to killing. He regretted that his training had had to be so focused on destroying lives, when the purpose of a Rider was much more vast. Many of the wounds he saw were beyond his current knowledge, but not beyond the possibilities offered by magic. He would have to try and further his experience in that particular field. Looking at the soldiers, he found himself cruelly wanting. How many more would he have been able to save, had there been enough time for him to receive a full training ?

The man he had just finished healing, who was the one from Feinster, grabbed his arm :

''Why do you do this ? Why do you heal us ? We are enemies. You did not hesitate to kill my fellow soldiers just a few hours ago. Yet here you are now, healing us in addition to your own men. I do not understand.''

''I did not ask for this war. I did not ask to be a Rider, and all that it entails. Make no mistakes, I do not regret it. And if I could go back in time, finding Saphira's egg is the last thing I would change. But that does not mean that I have to like everything in my duties as a Free Rider. I do not like killing – no more, I guess, than you do. But I also know that killing Galbatorix is a necessity. And unfortunately, that cannot be achieved without this war.''

''You could have remained hidden. Left the people of Alagaesia alone. My life was not ideal, I'll grant you that much, but it was fine. Then you Vardens started this war. I lost my brother, who went to the Burning Plains. As far as I know, you could even be the very man who killed him !''

''I have no wish to make excuses. I do not expect the people in the Empire to ever forgive me for being the catalyst of this war. But Galbatorix already destroyed far too much over the last century. And he will not stop on his own. He is mad. He is not fit to rule a kingdom.''

''And you are ? How old are you ? What do you actually know of life besides destruction ? Are you even human ? Why couldn't you just leave us to our own problems, instead of making it your own ? Why can't you just leave Alagaesia and end this war ?!'' the man cried.

''I have no wish to be king. If I can, I will never draw a sword once this war is over. That is all I can promise.'' Eragon freed his arm from the man's weak grasp, trying not to let his confusion and unease show after this new allusion to Angela's prophecy.

Pushing the discussion in the back of his mind, Eragon turned to the next man, quickly assessing his condition to be beyond his abilities. He whispered a few words of comfort to the dying man. The words sounded hollow to him, but they brought a smile to the soldier's lips. He then crossed the room to take care of the next wounded man. He briefly stopped to correct the pronunciation of a young member of the Du Vrangr Gata.

The pattern of healing and comforting kept repeating itself for a couple more hours. Regularly, the bodies of dead soldiers were carried out, the emptied beds immediately occupied by new soldiers in need of medical help. The members of Du Vrangr Gata left one after the other, surrendering to the exhaustion of the battle and healing session.

Once Eragon himself was too exhausted to keep going, he finally stopped. He dragged himself back to his tent, but he did not enter it. Instead he positioned himself comfortably against his dragon's flank. She wrapped herself around him and covered him with her wing. Silently, they let go and shared their emotions, their most cherished memories with Oromis and Glaedr. They knew that Glaedr was still somewhat alive in his Eldunari, but they were aware that he would, could, never be the same after such a loss. So in a way, they had indeed lost both of their masters in the battle against Murtagh-Galbatorix.

But added to the grief was the fear. Oromis' death made them wonder how many more loved ones they might lose in the coming month. And worse, of the possibility of losing each other. They doubted they would survive such a shock, and even more that they would want to survive it. And if they did, they would have to keep going until the end. For the Vardens. For all the men who lost their lives since the Fall. And for the dragons.

They finally fell asleep, but fitfully. Distant voices seemed to call them, but no matter where they turned there was only darkness. When they finally awoke, they were surprised to realize that they had had the same dreams. This had not happened before, even during Eragon's prophetic dreams. But the bond between a Rider and his dragon was supposed to deepen with time. Was this another, less talked about, part of it ? Oromis and Glaedr had refused to tell them what to expect, and when.

'Any relationship takes time and deepens in its own way, at its own pace. There is no way to tell how many fruits you will reap, nor the time when you'll feast on them.' had been Oromis' only answer.

Thinking of their master brought back the pain of loss to the forefront of their minds. No longer able to bear the inactivity, they got up and warned their guards that they were going for a fly. Though he had promised not to leave them behind again, he needed time alone before facing the rest of the Vardens.

He knew he would have to make an appearance to ensure the troops morale remained high. They had conquered the city, but their were many losses. Also, Eragon himself needed to discuss several things Nasuada and the other commanders. Firstly, the fact that he had seen soldiers stealing the inhabitants of Feinster, which could not be tolerated. If such behaviour was tolerated after only a few battles, he truly feared was the men would feel entitled to once they neared Uru'Baen. Then, there was the matter of Lady Lorana. Though she had swore fealty to Galbatorix, she simply wanted to protect her city and its people. He could not condemn her intentions.

And they had to go to their masters' funeral. He made a face at the thought. None of the leaders would like that. They were always reluctant to let him go away from the army. It had already been hard to obtain some time in Ellesmerà after the Burning Plains. He would need a lot of persuasion to convince them now that they were getting deeper inside the borders of the Empire...

'Sometimes, I wonder if you do not suffer from amnesia.' the dragonness declared, interrupting his line of thought.

'Why would you think that ?'

'You swore fealty to Nasuada. I did not. If they prove too difficult, I will simply make it clear that I will not allow you to miss Oromis and Glaedr's funeral. Besides, we should be the ones to officiate it anyway. If they want a Rider, they must learn to accept that he has other duties besides being a powerful weapon in battle.'

'I know. I can't help but think that it is partially our fault, though. Neither of us likes political games. You can't deny that we were more than happy to focus on training instead of learning all the intricacies of the political mechanisms of the Vardens, the Surda, the Dwarves... I did not even know how Dwarves choose their king before I joined Orik at Farthen Dur!'

'And though the Council has often caused us problems, we still do not really know how much real power it holds, and what are his prerogatives.'

'It is a great oversight on our part...' Eragon sighed.

'Not really. Focusing on training was vital at the time. There is no need to learn the rules of a game if you never live long enough to actually play it.' Saphira reasoned.

'But there is no point in surviving a battle if you cannot survive the aftermath.'

'True. But we should not forget that we have had little time to prepare. We accomplished much, and I hatched barely a year ago. There is a limit to what can be done.'

'I know. And I'm proud of what we accomplished so far. But I do wonder whether it is enough. We can only promise to do our best. What happens when your best still is not enough ?'

'You cry. And then you search for another way to do your task.' Saphira stated.

'That's not exactly helpful, you know.' He remarked.

'I do. But I cannot think of a better answer.' She paused 'And we might already have this other way. Or an hint of it at least.'

'You are referring to Solembum's advice, aren't you ?'

'I am. But, like what happened with the Menoa tree, I'd think that events will show us when the time is right.'

'Let us hope so.'

They were silent for a while, enjoying the bite of the cold wind on their skin, or scales, and delighting in the freedom it made them feel. Such small moments of pleasure would probably grow fewer and farther between as they advanced towards the final confrontation. It was also a good reminder that, despite the war raging on the grounds, no living being in Alagaesia would ever be able to destroy the quietness of nature.

'Not that nature is always kind and calm, though' Eragon shivered, remembering the storm they had encountered with Brom on their journey to Teirm.

'Are you securely tied to the saddle ?' Saphira suddenly asked. 'I'd like for us to truly fly together.' She added eagerly.

'You know I'm always ready for that !' He answered with a smile.

Eragon quickly checked the restrains around his legs and arms, and then let go of all the barriers between himself and his dragon. Their minds merged, and he felt himself leaving his body behind, and became fully aware of every muscles, every articulations and every tensions in the dragonness' body. As one, they flew, rolled, made sharp turns and steeper dives, perfectly aware and confident in their capacities of correcting the trajectory in time.

After about a quarter of an hour, they minds slowly separated, almost regretfully. Eragon carefully sat up, massaged the arm he had been laying on and that had become a little stiff. Saphira slowed her flight and stopped her acrobatics.

He glanced towards the ground. Many men had obviously been watching them and were cheering. Saphira circled above the crowd to thank them. Seeing the soldiers reminded him of his need to talk to Nasuada about the behaviour he witnessed during the battle.

'What do you think we should do, Saphira ?'

'You are not the leader of the Vardens. It is not your burden to punish wrong behaviour.'

'I know. And thank the gods for that! But I still think that I should make a statement. Directly tell all the men that such behaviour cannot be tolerated, especially from men who swore to fight against oppression.'

'They do not understand all the reasons of this war. I doubt they actually care about saving the Dragons. They fight because they want to break Galbatorix' hold on their ancestors' lands. But I'm glad they actually recognize a handsome and gifted dragon.'

'Such modesty ! I agree with you, though. And in a way, I admire them for being willing to sacrifice so much of themselves for this task. But if that reason was enough for them to gamble their life in an uncertain war, it should be reason enough for them to respect their fellow human beings.'

'You know that I do not understand all the humans' customs. But I agree that those soldiers behaviour will not endear us to the inhabitants of the Empire. And when this war is over and done with, it will be our task to make sure everyone manages to live together without stomping on their neighbour's eggs.'

'Which might actually be harder than killing Galbatorix. At least now, we know who our enemy is...'

'True.' She made a barrel roll. Eragon gripped the handle tight. 'We also need to decide what to do with your prisoners. And Lady Lorana.'

'Lady Lorana's fate is not for us to decide either. But I will speak for her. She only swore to Galbatorix to protect her people. Basically, her motives are the same as ours. She just didn't have the same opportunities we have had. I can't blame her for doing whatever she could.'

'I liked her too. I doubt Nasuada and even Orrin will be against treating her well. It would only alienate them further from the inhabitants. And from us once we make our opinion known.' She added with a feral grin.

'And the soldiers ?' He prompted.

'It is important for you. I will support you whatever you decide.' She simply said.

'Thank you. First, I will have to check whether or not they are sworn to the Empire. If they are, we cannot trust them, no matter their opinion. I will try to arrange for them to be taken to Surda. Hopefully, my status of Rider will be enough to protect them. If we lose this war, their fate will be up to Galbatorix. If we win, I will try to make sure they get back their lands and return to their families.'

'How will you support them all ? I doubt the Surdan king will be willing to pay for such treatment.'

'We did earn quite a lot from fighting. We are paid as an officer. Though I first tried to refuse, I'm glad now that I have the money. And as the last free Riders, we have everything they left behind. Someday, we will get it back from Doru Araeba. Or from Galbatorix.'

'True. And I'm sure Orrin will rather lend us money than having us turn on him. He wants to be king.'

'I know. I'm not sure it would be such a great choice, though.'

'And if the men still have their freedom from the Empire ?'

'Then I will offer them to fight alongside us or remain prisoners until the end of the war. Hopefully, some of them will chose to fight.'

Saphira started to slowly descend toward the ground and their tent.

'Will you keep offering this to the soldiers in the next battles ?'

'I think I will. Unless it proves impractical, of course. At least, I know the men I had to kill chose to fight. It does not absolve me, but I confess it eases my mind somewhat. When you think about it, those men are not our real enemies. They are victims more than anything.'

'I know. And I approve, though I will not pretend that I have the same logic as you. But it is the best logic for you. So I will respect and support your decision.' After a short pause, she added 'As long as you do not do anything foolish, of course.'

'Of course. And thank you.'

They landed near the tent. Immediately, Blödgharm approached them, congratulating the dragon on her prowess before telling Eragon that Jarsha came by with a summon from Nasuada. They had to join her and the other leaders in a couple of hours in the main tent, to discuss the aftermath and what to do next.

Before he had time to reply, a soldier, who had followed Saphira as she prepared to land, asked what was to be done about the prisoners. Eragon told the soldier that he would come after his discussion with the leaders, and inquired where the prisoners were currently stationed. He then asked the soldiers to confirm his presence to Nasuada and to whomever was guarding his prisoners. He also added that said prisoners were not to be mistreated in any way.

'I haven't really seen Roran since the battle. Do you want to come ?' He asked Saphira.

'I will stay here, I'd like some rest before debating of human politics. Besides, we both know that your family reunion will be easier if I'm not physically there.'

'Roran and Katrina have gotten used to you.'

'I know. And I'm happy to be welcomed by your nest-brother and his mate. But the others from Carvahall still need time. No need to disturb your family time with their gawking.' She declared, yawning.

Eragon nodded, smiling half-heartedly. Carvahall was home-town to them both, but it was also quite isolated. Besides Brom's stories, the inhabitants of the northern village had grown hearing only legends, often picturing Elves as child-stealer, Urgals as bloodthirsty monster... None of them had ever seen a Dragon before the battle of the Burning Plains, and Saphira was the reason they had to flee their beloved lands in the first place. Eragon feared the day one of the people from Carvahall would ask him to show them an image of the village or of one of those who chose to remain. Seeing its destroyed state once had been hard enough, month ago. And he believed the shock would be worse for men who had fought to defend it than for a man who had always felt apart – though he had truly loved his home-town and his uncle's farm.

He trotted towards the part of the camp where the people of Carvahall had set their tents. As he neared the area, he heard the sound of metal hitting upon metal. Looking around, he saw Horst, obviously forging a new blade. He went to him, asking him about the people of Carvahall. One of them, Orval, had died in the battle, and would be buried tomorrow, following Carvahall's tradition though he could not be buried in Carvahall's lands. He whispered his condolences, eyes slightly wet, and continued on to his cousin's tent. He would deal with that particular loss on the morrow. He had no energy to think of it today.

He knocked on the side of the tent to signal his presence. Immediately, his cousin opened the side of the tent and invited him in.

''I just heard about Orval. I cannot stay long. I just wanted to make sure you both were okay.'' Eragon explained.

''We are okay. Or... Orval will be buried tomorrow. Will you be able to come ?''

''I will come. I will have to address the men some time tomorrow, but I will come.'' He paused ''How are doing ? You both knew him better than me.''

No one stated the obvious. Eragon had left over a year ago, leaving the people from his childhood behind, whereas Roran had defended them against the Ra'zac and then led them to Surda and relative safety. Though Roran had now understood his cousin's reasons and forgiven him, it could not be denied that Roran was closer to the people of Carvahall than Eragon would ever be. The loss was bound to affect him more.

Roran sighed, his shoulders sagging.

''It's hard. I know that I cannot decide the fate of my men in battle. That it is already a blessing that no other died. But I still feel like it is my fault. And how are you, brother ? I haven't seen you since we entered the city.''

''My masters died. I will have to go to their funeral as well. I feel like every person I get close to ends up dying.''

''I'm sorry'' offered Katrina while Roran looked at him with sympathy.

''Do you know how they died ? Were you told ?'' Roran asked.

''They were killed in battle in Gil'ead, against Galbatorix. Well, Murtagh controlled by Galbatorix.''

''When will you leave for their burial ? I'm sorry to bring that up, but the men's are not exactly all cheer, right now. If you leave suddenly... I doubt it will go down well. Especially not when it was your arrival which enabled us to win the last battle.''

''I do not know yet. I will try to wait until the last minute, but as the Leader Rider it is my right and duty to officiate at their last ceremony. And I plan to address the men tomorrow, hopefully that will be enough.''

Eragon looked searchingly at his cousin. Roran had been leading his own group of men for several months, now. Perhaps he would be able to enlighten him about the despicable behaviour he witnessed in Feinster.

''Roran, in your time as a captain, have you ever had to deal with misbehaviour ?''

''I thought I had already told you about my fight with Yarbog to earn the Urgals' respect...''

''Yes, you did. I was referring to men stealing, ransacking, the villages you conquered.''

''Oh. No, I have never had to deal with such behaviour. Well, only once. I sermonized the man, and I haven't caught any man stealing since then.'' He exchanged a glance with Katrina. ''Why did you ask ?''

''During the battle, I encountered several soldiers plundering a few houses. It is part of why I want to address the troops tomorrow. I am ready to make many sacrifices for this war, but this... Well this is not necessary. In fact, it will only cause more problems later.''

''I agree. But I only know how to manage a few men I know personally. I have no idea what could be said to convince a whole army.''

''Neither do I. I will have to find something before tomorrow...''

They all stood silent for a while, before Katrina suddenly asked if he wanted some tea. Eragon smiled gratefully, but refused. He was already running late for his meeting with the leaders. After promising to come for Orval's funeral, he left hastily to meet up with Saphira and go to Nasuada's command tent.