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Gordin took air into his lungs slowly as he readied an arrow on the rope of his bow. Without warning, Gra had attacked him. He had met them as one of several dozen archers under an Altean commander, and though Gra suffered several casualties, the fight had ended in their favor. Had Gra not taken them by surprise, the end result might have differed.
He was hiding in one of the towers of the Altean Castle, the only survivor of the small Altean unit that Gra had attacked in the middle of a training exercise. The commander had urged him to flee when it had become painfully clear that Gra had won that little exchange, he didn't want to feel like he was abandoning his comrades, but his superior's orders were clear.
Flee, spread the word to all unaware. Gra has betrayed us. They must not be trusted, no matter what they claim.
As of yet, Gordin had not yet found anyone to rely that message to. It was only at this point in time that he had come to believe that the Gra force was not looking for him. He took another breath, unable to stop reflecting on the battle that had decimated the ranks of Altea's archers.
He had trained alongside some of those archers ever since his own apprenticeship. The commingled bits of regret and pity were tearing him apart from the inside. The question of if only and the nagging feeling of I should of done more consumed his every thought. He was lucky to have survived, but deep down, he wasn't sure if he was thankful, or if it was even a good thing.
His guilt was ever so briefly swept aside at the sound of the soft clinking of metal. Snapping to attention, it couldn't have come from his light armor, he realized that it had to come from someone else. It had to be a Gra soldier, living Altea knights within the castle were probably becoming increasingly scarce. Gra had abandoned any pretense for stealth it might have had, and had begun openly hunting and killing. Based on their movement, Gordin could swear that Gra seemed to be looking for… something.
He heard a door open beneath him, he crouched low and peered down the tower steps, yes, it was a Gra soldier. Gordin reaffirmed his arrow's place on the bow, ready to strike the Gra soldier at the first opportunity. Not yet, he wanted to be sure that the Gra soldier was by himself. Gordin wouldn't be able to single-handedly stop even a small Gra force, not with his quiver… drained, down to only three more arrows. he would be helpless if a squadron of Gra soldiers stormed up the tower. Perhaps he would pick a few off in such a situation, but what would that amount to in the end? He observed the ascending Gra soldier, the Gra soldier looked from left to right, as if he was looking for something, but never once looked up. A fortunate occurrence, otherwise he would have seen Gordin easily. Enough time passed for Gordin to surmise that the soldier was moving by himself, he readied himself to aim…
So engrossed in focusing on this one Gra troop, he failed to notice a second set of footsteps, footsteps that had taken an alternative approach up the tower, having crossed to the tower by way a connecting bridge from another tower, and were now right behind him. Before Gordin had realized what had happened, he saw a piece of cloth appear across his field of vision, then pull back onto his lower face, he made a sudden yell, but it was muffled.
"Be silent." The cold voice of a Gra soldier spoke up as he began to tie the piece of cloth securely. Gordin did not obey but instead made inarticulate yells, which likely would have been coherent words if he had not been gagged. "I said be silent!" The soldier repeated, "Maybe the captain will let you live if you behave."
Survival did not seem to be at the forefront of Gordin's mind, and he made an effort so struggle.
"Seems that Alteans aren't raised to be smart." The soldier murmured, clearly frustrated with having to restrain the flailing archer. He'd rope Gordin's limbs, first change he got. "You should feel privileged, you'll get to die, knowing exactly who it is that killed you. I can't wait to see the captain authorize someone to tear you apart."
The Gra soldier that Gordin had been observing arrived at the top of the tower. Witnessing the restrained Altean archer, he marched forward with arrogance. "Hiding out, were we?"
He seemed oblivious that his ally's timely gagging of Gordin had probably saved his life, and simply sneered. "You won't be needing this where you're going." He snatched the bow from Gordin's grasp, then moved to Gordin's side and ripped the quiver off of his back. He casually tossed both to the side, letting all three of Gordin's remaining arrows spill out. "To the captain with you."
Marth dashed through the Altean Castle, the path was a complicated maze, but he knew the route to the western gate easily enough. He knew the entire castle, along with all of its confusing snaking passages, like the back of his hand. It would be odd if he didn't know all the ins and outs of his home.
Fortune seemed to favor him today, as he did not encounter any Gra soldiers along the way. However, he passed obvious signs of battle, as well as some stray corpses, mostly Alteans, with the occasional Gra soldier. Most of the Altean knights, he suspected, were taken by surprise, and might have at least taken some Gra soldiers with them if they had known about the attack beforehand.
He had been witness to training rounds and small mock battle between Altean and Gra forces. He had seen enough to know that in a direct confrontation, Altean knights were a cut above Gra troops. Gra's advantage right now was born out of stealth, surprise, and the fact that Altea's proper military was elsewhere, and possibly no longer properly existed.
Trying his best to shove away the sorrow and pity he felt for the deceased Alteans, and his shock at the realization that Gra was now an enemy, he quickened his pace. Before too long, he had arrived at the western gate. He felt relieved, but only for a moment, seeing a pair of cavaliers present. His hand moved to his rapier and slowed his movement.
Too late. One of them realized that someone was nearby and turned his head, Marth tensed for a moment… then relaxed when he recognized Abel.
"Sire." Abel nodded at the prince. "I am glad you're safe, your sister bade us protect you."
Frey, the other knight, came up. "Prince Marth, princess Elice has already made the preparations to escape from Gra's hands. Her plan is to escape the castle, cross the plains, reach a nearby harbor, and flee by ship."
"I see." Marth relaxed his muscles as he took his hand off his rapier. "My sister… always was one to calmly come up with a plan when everyone else would panic."
"Yes sire. Calm judgment comes naturally to her." Abel agreed. "Though you are more then capable of sound analysis of a situation yourself."
The compliment generated only a thin smirk on Marth's face, before returning to a more neutral expression. Something else just came to mind. "Wait, will this harbor have a ship ready?"
"Not to worry my lord." Frey said with confidence. "Sir Draug is seeing to that. We need only trust him."
"Draug." Marth looked lost in thought for a moment, then his expression slightly brightened. "A hundred Gra soldiers could throw themselves at him, and they still wouldn't get under that armor."
"Most certainly, sire." Frey agreed. "Draug is a veritable wall. It'd take more then Gra's cheap iron to bite through his proud armor."
"Sir Jagen will join us outside the castle." Abel said. "He may be getting on the older side of things, but he's still the pride of Altea, all the same. Elice suggested that we not attempt to leave without him."
"Is he close?"
"We don't know, sire." Frey responded, he turned to a tower. "Soldier, is Jagen en route?"
Marth turned his head to the tower Frey seemed to talk to directed his gaze upward. At the top of the tower was a lookout crouching at the top. The lookout peered out in the distance, straining his eyes to look across the whole landscape.
"Soldier, is Jagen-"
"I heard you the first time!" The lookout snapped back, as if people asked him if he saw something in the distance far too often. "I can see someone approaching, but I can't tell if it's Sir Jagen." The lookout stood slightly up from his crouched position, "I can't quite make out the color of his armor or his emblem, but I-" The voice suddenly ceased, as if the words had been ripped out of his throat, and without warning, the lookout fell backwards over the ledge. He landed motionless by Marth and the two cavaliers. Sticking into him was…
"…an arrow." Abel hissed. There was an arrow in the lookouts chest, which, combined with the fall, had killed the man. "Blast, what is Gra doing at the western gate?"
"Gra? But, we're supposed to meet Jagen here." Frey muttered, "How many of them are there?"
"Hold on…" Abel dismounted from his horse and went to the gate, he poked his head into view of the approaching Gra soldiers. "I'm counting… wait... six at the most."
"Six?" Frey sounded absolutely astonished. "Is that… it? Are you sure you counted correctly?"
"They've probably already entered en mass through the main gate, Frey." Abel said with a practical tone. "These troops are likely more focused on plugging up the western gate then actually invading through it."
"Six of them…" Marth closed his eyes, thinking hard. "I don't think even Jagen can handle six by himself, but if we… hm…" Marth's hand went to his rapier.
"Sire, are you sure that's a good idea?" Frey asked as Marth unsheathed his weapon. "Though a small force, they outnumber us and-"
"We can't turn around. The Gra force already in the castle is too large to fight with our numbers. Forcing our way through those six is the best way to handle our situation."
"Prince Marth…" Frey's mind swam for another option. In the current situation where Altea was in such a predicament, the greater priority should be placed on stealth, not on confrontation, especially if the sounds of battles could carry, but his groping for an alternative wound up giving him no counterargument. He sighed, conceding the point.
"If that's your decision for our course, then I am content." Abel nodded his approval as he got back on his horse. "Six Gra soldiers is no trouble, please stand back and let Frey and I clear a path-"
"No." Marth cut Abel off. "I will fight as well."
"What? But sire, you-"
"I will not stand back like a coward when others risk their lives for me." Marth adamantly swore, holding his rapier at his side.
Frey and Abel exchanged an uncomfortable look. With an expression of frustration, Abel spoke up "…with all due respect, sire. If one of them sees you and escapes, Gra's main force will be on us. There would be no escape."
"Abel, this is an order." Marth harshly responded. "If people are risking themselves for me, I have to do something more then just huddle in the corner."
"But-"
"No, Abel." Marth raised a hand up to command silence. "I need to do this. I am the prince of Altea, if I am fighting, then I need to be alongside my soldiers, no matter what the situation is."
A silence hung for a few seconds. Abel's expression hardened as his eyes traced to the side.
"Then… let us continue." Frey interjected, drawing the confused gaze of Abel. "Gra's forces are most likely building within the castle, every moment we waste is a blow to our chances of escape."
Abel might have tried to reach for something to say in protest, but almost as a way to end the discussion, two Gra soldiers marched into plain sight. Tense and clearly expecting a fight, a comrade of theirs having been the originator of the arrow that had killed the lookout. One soldier took one look at the cavaliers and scoffed. "Hmm. What a token force."
The Gra soldiers completely disregarded the two cavaliers, then their gaze flittered to Marth.
"Well, well…" one soldier chuckled as he moved his hand to the hilt of his sword. "I spy with my little eye, a prince who is going to make me rich."
"Come quietly." The second Gra soldiers said as he took his sword out. "The captain will decide the fate of the remnants of the Altean military, surrender peacefully, and we'll put in a good word for you."
"Peacefully?" Abel snapped, "You're one to talk about 'peace'."
"So that's a 'no', is it?" The Gra soldier shrugged as he readied himself. "I thought you'd say that, you Alteans are defiant far past the point of absurdity."
"Better then betraying someone at the drop of a hat." Abel said with a deep, threatening tone.
The soldier readied himself, unperturbed by the insult. He charged, on his heels was the second soldier. Abel and Frey responded in kind, their lances flying forward, looking to pierce the Gra troops before they could approach their liege. It didn't help that their liege refused to behave and accept protection, and rushed forward. To his credit, even as he put himself in harm's way, he was surely competent, the thing that discomforted the cavaliers was just how precious his life was.
The two Gra soldiers jumped back, one of them narrowly avoiding a lethal jab from Frey's lance. "Not… bad." One of the soldiers conceded, taking a few more steps back. "Unfortunately, we have something you don't. Support."
Abel raised his eyebrow at the word, then something caught his eye. Something descending from above. Acting on reflex, he reached out and grabbed Marth by the shoulder and yanked him away, just as an arrow descended upon the exact spot Marth had been standing at. Without Abel's intervention, the arrow likely would have gone straight into Marth's gut, or pierce through his leg.
"Humph." The Gra soldier scoffed as two Gra archers appeared from behind, guarded by another two Gra swordsmen. All six Gra soldiers that Abel had seen were now accounted for. "Most people wouldn't see that coming, it would seem that your self-preservation instincts are the only thing about Alteans that leaves something to be desired."
"Your jeers are not all that clever to begin with." Frey responded. "Save your breath for your dying scream, turncoat."
Abel allowed himself a private, mental smirk at how easily the troops of Gra were angered. The soldiers postured their shoulders in offense, the swordsmen charged as the two archers readied their arrows.
They four swordsmen came at them no differently then when their numbers were only two. A straight and simple charge, no attempt at using their numbers to divide and conquer, not even as much as an attempt to flank them. The only thing worrisome were the archers, just as the swordsmen got within range of the cavaliers lances, arrows began to fly.
As one arrow mutely descended, Marth managed to, almost impossibly, catch the arrow on the blade of his thin rapier, most likely stopping it from piercing through a critical joint, and knock it away. In his next motion, Marth's rapier cut into the neck guard of one of the swordsmen.
"Gurgh…" The soldier of Gra gargled as his hand went up to clutch at his throat, he backed away as the blood began to spurt out. His allies covered his position as he came to a stop and kneeled down. He coughed, the blood that came out dripped out of the bottom of his helmet, he knew, of course, that he was finished. Gripping his sword, he stared at the continuing fight, one of the last things his eyes registered was the lance of one of the cavalier's piercing through a fellow Gra troop.
Two Gra soldiers were dead, the remaining swordsmen backed away, signaling the archers to increase the frequency of their attacks. The first arrow sank into the armor on Abel's chest, but failed to pierce into his skin. With his free hand, Abel grabbed the arrow and snapped it in two, tossing what he broke off on the ground, though leaving the arrowhead in his armor.
One archer released arrow after arrow with startling speed, with none hitting their mark, but were hitting close enough to make approach difficult. The archer was readying his next arrow before the last had even crossed half the breadth of the room. The two Gra swordsmen stood back, enjoying the show as they spun their swords threateningly, and waiting for the cavaliers to make a fatal error, at which point they could grab the prince.
The other archer, though still abnormally quick to release his arrows, was slower, and was taking time to aim. His arrows were the more accurate, but he, eventually, began to slow the release of his arrows. Taking another arrow, he aimed carefully, lining up his aim with the head of Abel.
The archer smirked, feeling that he had arrived at the opportune moment, the swordsmen would be able to move on once one of the cavaliers was gone. He began to loosen his grip on the rope…
…when he suddenly felt a sharp pain. Sharper then any he had felt before, right in his chest. He looked down to see a lance forged of silver skewered through him.
"Sir Jagen!" Abel yelled with relief. As if he felt the battle had been won. Jagen didn't immediately respond, leaving the silver lance in the archer for the moment, he took a regular lance of steel out and turned his sight to the second archer, who had just turned in realization that an Altean was so close to him. Without a wasted movement, the second archer was killed.
"Sire. Hold on." Jagen spoke, the paladin charging forward on his horse with his steel lance. Jagen, one of the best trainers and knights Altea had ever known, laid waste to the last two Gra soldiers.
"Are you safe, sire?"
"Yes, Jagen." Marth answered, sheathing his rapier. "Though, there's no telling what might have happened if you're arrival had been further delayed."
"Sire. Though I would ask you to inform me all that has happened, it is more prudent to leave as soon as possible, someone must have heard the sound of battle."
"I know, Jagen." Marth said, and then continued, his voice laced with regret and disappointment. "The castle isn't safe anymore, not after Gra's betrayal."
"Sire…" Jagen felt at a loss for words. Talk of comfort and concern far from his forte. He turned to the first archer he felled and calmly removed the silver lance from the corpse. "Surely we shall return someday, but today is a day we have no choice but to flee."
Marth sighed deeply. "We're supposed to make our way to the nearest harbor."
"Yes. Your sister informed me of what was to be done before she went to meet you. Prince Marth, let us make haste."
"What is this?" The Gra captain creased his nose as Gordin was thrown in front of him. "Must I be required to decide the fate of all of Altea's survivors?"
"Begging your pardon, captain." The Gra knight spoke as he forced his hands on Gordin's back, keeping the Altean archer on his knees. "-but this is the system that King Jiol outlined."
The captain grunted. "Far from my place to question our King's command." He stepped forward as the Gra soldier he was speaking to worked to enact a more proper restraint on Gordin. In a few seconds some rope bound Gordin's arms together at the wrists. "Altea trains some pathetic fools. Loyal to the end, but fools all the same, it would seem. What to do with this one?"
The captain raised a hand up to his chin to stroke in contemplation, "I could mount your head on a pike, after a public execution of course. We do sorely need an example to be made as we prepare to leave the castle and sweep across the nation." The captain paused, waiting for a response, and found his nostrils involuntarily flaring at the archer's expression of defiance. "I wonder just how much, or how little, pain it would take to make you regret that look."
Gordin's expression didn't change, though he did shrink back somewhat as the threat was made.
"Hmm…" The captain examined Gordin further, then shook his head. "Imprison this one, I shall determine his fate later. The rest of the invasion takes precedence at this moment." The Gra soldier nearby grabbed Gordin by his waist and hoisted him up, then walked away.
"Sire, let us make haste." Jagen motioned at a bag fastened to the back of his horse. He opened the bag, and pulled out several heavy cloaks, "Allowing someone to recognize us would spell our doom, so we need some manner of disguise." He offered the first cloak to Marth, then extras to Abel and Frey. "We also can't attract undue attention, we'll have to move slowly, we'll bring our horses, of course, but we'll need to travel on foot."
"What?" Frey was confused at Jagen's last words. "Sir Jagen, we need to flee with all haste. As long as we're within eye-shot of the castle, we-"
"No one is going to be observant as to what's going on outside the castle right now, Frey." Jagen spoke forcefully. "They're more interested in combing the castle, they won't be examining what's going in, out, or away from the castle for some time."
"Combing the castle…" Marth repeated. His thoughts drifted to his sister, "I hope she'll be with us soon."
"As do I, sire." Jagen said, "All we can do is continue on and hope."
Marth frowned, "Can't we wait a little while for her? She can't fight, if Gra has found her, then-"
"No, prince Marth." Jagen shook his head. "Our chances of failure increase with every moment we dawdle. Please, put the cloak on, sire."
Marth sighed, then lifted the cloak up, he began to put it on. He wasn't used to wearing something of any shade besides regal blue, but now was not the time to worry about color.
"Prince Marth!" A voice resounded just as Marth put the cloak on, he turned on his heel in the direction of his voice. A soldier was seated in a horse, he and his horse slowly staggered into view.
"Cain." Jagen's eyes widened with shock and recognition. "Weren't you with the legion King Cornelius called? What-"
"Jagen… not… not now…" Cain breathed hard, and Jagen got a closer look at the knight. His red armor was splattered with blood, some old, some fresh, most of it, Jagen suspected, was the knight's own blood. Large chunks of the knight's armor had been ripped off, revealing deep gashes in the flesh. Cain's face had numerous minor cuts on it, nothing that seemed critical, but enough blood that, combined with the blood across his armor, probably meant that Cain was feeling the effects of excessive blood loss. Lastly, Jagen could swear that he saw something poking out of the back of Cain's armor, as the knight moved past the paladin, Jagen realized that Cain had numerous arrows sunk into him, mostly in the back of his shoulders.
"Those… wounds." Marth seemed unsettled. Jagen was surprised, he had seen sturdily built and well-trained knights die to far lesser injuries. "Cain, we need to get those treated, and-"
"Prince… Marth…" Cain cut his lord off as he leaned forward, resting his head on the neck of his horse. "Your father… I… message… ungh…" Cain pressed his hands onto his horse's neck and pushed himself back to a semi-erect position. "Your father… gave me a message, you must… hear…"
"A message?" Marth felt a sudden feeling of relief. "If he has a message to deliver, then… he's alive, right?"
"Prince…" Cain muttered, before groaning from the pain. "If… if this should claim me," he said, speaking of his wounds, "I must at least… deliver…"
"Not now, Cain." Abel said, "Our higher priority is escaping."
Cain turned to his old friend and gritted his teeth, but he was too exhausted and in too much pain to grope for a counter-argument.
"We'll be fleeing on foot. Slower movement, Jagen believes, will attract less attention." Frey said, "Can you walk, Cain?"
"Yes…" Cain said, "My legs are… mostly injury free."
"…do we need you to help you off your horse?"
Cain struggled for a moment, attempting to get out by himself, but only earned himself a sharp rise in pain. Letting out a small moan of discomfort, he nodded to the question.
"Let's hurry, then." Frey said as he dismounted off his horse to get up close to Cain. "Our enemies have advantages enough without one of Altea's finest dying."
"Back from hunting, are ya?" An Altean youth smiles, he and his little harbor community too out of the way to have any indication as to what is going on in the rest of the nation. For the moment, life went on as normal for him, reclining on the grass and watching some clouds.
This peace was fleeting, and the blissful ignorance would not last.
The girl he was talking to frowned a little. "Yeah, I'm back, but I didn't bag anything. There aren't any good stags to hunt, it's like they're hiding scared or something."
"Ah, guess they know what a shot you are, Norne." The boy got up to a sitting position with a smile. "Those deer are smarter then a knight, they realize that Norne The Merciless is out, they're gone."
"Norne The…" Norne cringed. "Don't give me a title, this is just a way to get some food on the side. I prefer meat over fruit."
"Aw, just take the compliment." The boy laid back down, "Seriously, you might be able to get somewhere in the military."
Norne rolled her eyes, "I'd love to meet the royalty, but I could do without all the stuck-up rules and knights. I like to actually express myself. Not lick boots."
"I'm sure being a knight isn't really like that. There's probably some really fun parts to it, and-"
"Nah." Norne interrupted, shrugging her shoulders as she turned on her heel. "A little excitement couldn't hurt, but I suppose a boring life isn't all that bad." She stood there for a second, letting the air take her words, waiting for a response from the boy.
"Guess Altea's enemies will sleep a little easier tonight, knowing that you're not interested in military service." He rolled over on his side. Norne shrugged off his words and walked away. The grass outside the harbor proper was a good place to walk around in, though the walking tended to get old real fast. She stretched her arms as she walked through the fields. Maybe her friend had the right idea, a nice nap in the grass might feel good right about now. On the other hand, she might wake up with bugs crawling through her hair, that was enough incentive to keep her walking and awake.
She yawned. With word that Altea's military had left, she had considered some minor vigilante work, but had, in the end, decided against it. Not only was Altea normally unnaturally free from thugs and criminals, but she also wasn't very familiar with hunting someone who could think and plan an escape. Never mind the fact that she figured that the deer were probably better then a lot of the people in Altea in the whole 'thinking' and 'planning' thing. She yawned again. Life was boring, at least when the military was here she could eavesdrop on a few knightly conversations, those were interesting. Sometimes.
"Excuse me." Norne jumped at an unexpected voice behind her. Couldn't have been that boy. Too mature sounding. She turned around to see a man, obviously a knight.
"Um…" Norne examined him. The armor this man wore was a bit thick, clearly with more then a little sturdiness and defense in mind. Another look at the design of the armor told her that the man was an Altean knight. Judging by the way his armor bulged, she suspected he was probably very muscular underneath. "You're a knight? I thought that Altea's military was-"
"Please, ma'am. Not now." The knight interrupted her. His face, though gentle looking, was also dead-serious in its expression. "My name is Draug, and the future of Altea is at stake today. There's supposed to be a harbor nearby. Which direction is it?"
"Uh…" Her first reflex might have been to laugh at the idea that Altea's future 'was at stake', but another look at his face, which was becoming more gravely, squashed any lightly amused skepticism she might have had. Norne looked around for a moment, mentally retracing the steps she had taken today. She pointed off in the distance. "It's that-a way, Sir Draug."
"My thanks." He nodded before marching in the direction she pointed. "You should flee at once. Altea is no longer safe."
He began to walk past her, and a little spark of thought burned into existence in her mind. So… a part of me wanted a little excitement, huh?
"Sir Draug!" Norne called out impulsively, making the older man stop in his tracks. He turned back to her. "You, uh… need an extra archer?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Are you… volunteering?" He looked at a loss for words for a moment, then regained a cool face. "I appreciate the enthusiasm, ma'am, but I don't think you understand what you're agreeing to. If you come with me, you likely won't see Altea again for a long, long time. Provided we even succeed in getting a very… precious cargo, out of the nation."
"Right." Norne gave a slightly cheeky smile, as if everything she was about to do was all old news to her, and was used to danger. In reality, she probably hadn't been in true, critical, legitimate danger at any point in her life. "I've already got my bow in my hand, and my quiver on my back. I'm ready."
"Not yet." Draug said calmly. "You need to understand what you're going to help with, and exactly what's happening to Altea." He half-turned and motioned his head in the direction of the harbor. "Walk with me, there's much you need to hear."
Little FYI. The captain from the last chapter, and the captain that Gordin is brought to in this chapter, are the same character, and the captain is the same captain from Prologue IV in Shadow Dragon.
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