Chapter 1-Celebrating in Silence
The dragon was dead, and with it Nergal's mad schemes. A great weight had been lifted from the shoulders of those who fought to save, not only their own nations, but the very world itself. This was a day of victory, a day of celebration, and a day of release. Taking over for Eliwood, Hector had declared a rest and a party at the Dragon's Gate, and each survivor of this long and grueling battle tried to relax and savor their victory in their own fashion.
Lord Eliwood, to no one's surprise, had confined himself to his tent for the entire day. Considering all that had transpired, he needed the time to breathe, rest and mourn, and nobody would begrudge him that. To some watching eyes, it was noted with interest just how much time the fair Pegasus Knight Fiora spent loitering around the Lord's tent. Finally, Isadora convinced Marcus to allow Fiora to relieve him of guard duty, as there was simply no chasing her off.
The Lady Lyndis spent her time in the company of a certain red cavalier, both mourning a shared loss, and cherishing the prospects of life that still lay before them. This left the burden of responsibility on Hector, but he surprised all by bearing it without complaint. His friends had done their shares, and he would see a mountain tore up from it's roots before he would deny them their rest. If this meant that he would bear the mantle of leadership alone from hereon in, then so be it.
And the others were content to see to their own affairs, spend time with their friends and lovers, and remember their fallen comrades. It was in this manner that a sudden revelation came to the swordfighter Guy of Sacae. He had no real friends in this army. His fellow swordsmen, Raven, Karel, Harken and Karla either saw him as competition or simply another sword. His fellow Sacaens were no better, only Lyn and Rath, who each had their own things to do, were warm towards him at all. Looking around, it came to him that there were only two men in this entire mess that he might at all consider friends, and both were conspicuously absent…
The sounds of the celebration began to fade behind Matthew as he left the clearing. Let the others celebrate, he was in no mood for gaiety. The young spy's thoughts were uncharacteristically dark as he walked on, caring little for wherever he may be going as the only thing he could see were visions of a red haired corpse, struck down by a man he was now forced to call ally.
He did not know how much time had passed before a quiet voice snapped him out of his reverie, "So it would seem that even hardened spies can shed tears."
Resheathing his daggers, having drawn them the moment he heard a voice, Matthew sighed heavily, "Dammit Grant, you know better than to sneak up on me like that."
Grant could only chuckle, "If I'm not mistaken, you were the one approaching me. I've been here for hours." Sliding over on the rock he was occupying, the large tactician gestured for Matthew to have a seat, should he want it, "I'd offer a coin for your thoughts, but it's not hard for me to guess where those tears would come from. You were really in love, weren't you?"
Wiping his eyes clear with the inside of his cloak, Matthew slumped against a nearby tree and began to laugh softly, "You don't miss much, do you? But I suppose that's your job, isn't it?" Picking up a couple of acorns, he began to toss them back and forth, a simple exercise to keep his mind in the present. He could not afford to lose himself like that again. What if it had been a morph they had missed that had noticed him? Or even Jaffar seeking to…no. Matthew shook his head, trying to make himself believe that Jaffar was no longer his enemy, without much success. Turning his attention back to Grant, he cocked his head and decided to ask a question of his own, "So why did you leave? I needed some time alone, but you've got a bunch of friends to be with back there, why'd you leave them?"
As he often did when asked a personal question, Grant was silent for a moment while he removed his spectacles and wiped them clean, thinking how best to answer while he cleaned them. After a minute or two, he redonned the eyewear and simply shook his head, "Tacticians…don't have friends, Matthew. You should know that. We're much like, say, spies, in that regard. We cannot afford to get close to anyone as we never know when we will have to order them to their deaths."
Matthew could only scoff, "Hah! You're good enough that you shouldn't have to worry about that. We have tons of strategists in Ostia, and not one of them could even hope to compete against you."
Closing his eyes, Grant shook his head again, fighting back a tear or two of his own. "Tell that to Sain and Lowen. Or even Lord Wallace. Or Farina. I'm sure they'd be quite willing to disagree with you on that account."
"Losing only four soldiers in a war against someone like Nergal isn't bad at all. I bet nobody else could have even won, much less with so few losses. You did the best you could, and nobody could have asked for better." Remembering the incidents, Matthew had to try and defend Grant against…well, himself. "Besides, Sain and Wallace weren't your fault. Sain broke formation, and he almost got me killed too, remember? And Wallace didn't tell anyone he was injured. A lot of that dark magic doesn't leave physical scars, you know. It's his own fault, but he did hold the passage long enough for us to win. It's the way that old bull wanted to go."
Leaning back to stare at the heavens, Grant opened his eyes, "And what of Lowen and Farina? And Sain should have had enough trust in me to hold to my orders, even if it didn't look like a good idea. I don't always have time to explain my plans."
Having nothing to say, Matthew could only sit in silence with the tactician, each contemplating their own losses and failings, and each looking ahead to a future of uncertainties. Grant was right, spies and tacticians don't have friends, they have allies and subordinates at best. Perhaps that is what allowed Matthew to understand him a bit better than the others could.
The two sat until nearly dawn, listening to the distant sounds of revelry from their camp. But neither Grant nor Matthew spoke another word. They only sat there, celebrating in silence.
(Author's Note: Chapter 1 is mainly just introducing the tactician, as well as geting a feeling for how I'm going to write Mathew and Guy. Any comments on how I portray them would be most welcome.) Author's Note #2(Added Aug 2010): Wow, reading back over this after so long...this is pretty lame. For new readers, don't worry, it gets better! I promise!
