Author's Note: Shout-out to the old fans who are still kickin' around! If anyone has any requests for FE characters to add to the story, don't hesitate to leave a review! So far, the few mentioned in chapter 1 are safe bets. I'm most comfortable with FE7, 8, and Awakening, but will consider all requests!
Chapter 2: End of Days
When Jäger set foot on dry land at Avenghelst Harbor for the first time in three months, he swore that some part of him was still out there on the ocean, rocking back and forth with the vicious waves of high tide. He couldn't have been happier to be home - he paused a second to take in a deep inhale of the smoky air before pulling the homegrown cigarette from behind his ear and lighting the end of it. The nicotine rushed to his brain, quelling the irritability of dealing with the deckhands aboard his workplace, the Diamond Overture.
The city looked much different than he remembered. The skyline reached ever higher into the black cloud blocking the sun, metal cranes swinging their payloads in circles above the paved roads. Stagecoaches were becoming a rare sight, horseback transportation having fallen into disuse after the invention of the motorized gurney. It was for the best - it made breathing harder, what with the spewing of toxic exhaust, but that smell was infinitely preferable to the old odor of horse excrement baking in the city streets.
He hoisted his bag onto his shoulder, smiled, and set off down the road, past fishmongers and mountebanks, toward the sprawling cliffside estate that he called home.
"And the Fools bring upon the world eternal Death; both righteous and wicked awaken to Void and Darkness, to the gaping maw of the Destroyer!"
The speaker, a man much too young for the apparent delusions he suffered, waved his arms for the attention of passersby, but received none. He pushed the spectacles sliding down the length of his hook nose back up, the bridge of cartilage raw from the repetitive nature of the action. His mop of shaggy blonde obscured the eyes behind the glass lenses.
"Look to the stars, and you'll see that I speak the truth! To the constellations Joon and Octavian, at the breaking of daylight - to the blinding fire of the Raptured Dragon!"
"Get lost, ya maniac!" called a passing businessman, from the other side of the road. The doomsayer shook it off - he was used to that sort of treatment.
"One year! One year from today, we shall all perish!"
Jäger passed by the wild doomsayer with a chipper beat in his step - home wasn't home without the crazy folks on the corner spewing their religious nonsense. He produced a bronze coin from his pocket and tossed it to the ground in front of the madman, as payment for the entertainment. It clinked against the cobblestone, stopping the doomsayer midsentence.
The sailor passed by, tossing the butt of the cigarette into the street, when he felt something heavy smash into the back of his skull - the bronze coin tinkled once more to the ground, a welt forming where it impacted Jäger's skin. He dropped his bag and turned to face the doomsayer, who had taken an aggressive stance toward him.
"What the bloody fuck is wrong with you?" the sailor shouted at the madman, "Do you not like money? Is that not what you're here for, soliciting donations for your cult?"
"I am not a cultist, you dolt! What I am saying is the truth! I am here for awareness, not your pithy charity!"
Jäger sighed. He shouldn't have spoken. Now, he was exactly where the doomsayer wanted him - in a position to hear the eschatological gospel. The would-be prophet started up again, but Jäger waved his hand.
"I'm not interested, guy. Not in the slightest. I don't believe in apocalypses, or gods, or your fools and dragons and astrology-"
"This is no astrology, sir; far from. This is naught but good old-fashioned astronomy. And I say to you again - watch the horizon. You shall see. You all shall see."
"The funny thing about old-fashioned astronomy is that it was all bollocks. I wish you good health in your 'final year,'"
Jäger scooped his coin up from the road and scoffed at the madman. Astronomy. Pah. The man makes a mockery of such noble science.
The remaining walk to the public gurney was plagued with annoyance at the pain radiating from Jäger's crown. He'd never experienced such venom from a street preacher. As he boarded the vehicle amidst the well-dressed denizens of the Kralic capital, he found himself unable to rid his thoughts of that ungrateful man.
The gurney dropped him off at the foot of the overgrown drive leading through the wrought iron gate of the Schenkkan family estate, a dilapidated three-story country home overlooking the ocean. From the bottom of the hill, he could see his sister Francesca rocking in a chair on the porch, her pregnant form unmistakable even from so far away. Three children tossed a leather ball around the yard, a young mauthedoog chasing it through the air.
Francesca saw her sailor brother's unusual shade of hair from atop the hill and stood from her chair, waving the green and black fabric she'd been sewing on the porch.
"Mum! Mother, Jäger's home! Come quick!"
The children dropped the ball at the sound of their uncle's name, their faces alight - the leather landed on the ground and was promptly devoured by the doog, the sound of air hissing through the holes punched by its razor teeth. Jäger trudged up the dirt path as the children rushed toward him in massive bounding leaps.
Jenoah, the oldest of his nephews, was the first to arrive, hugging Jäger around the waist, trying for the bag slung over his back. It was huge, and heavy - and probably full of exotic gifts from across the ocean. The two girls wrapped around his legs, immobilizing him, their excitement drowning out the welcoming calls of Jäger's mother and sister.
By the time Jäger reached the porch, the sun had gone down. His mother, a proper woman who'd only just recently begun to show the signs of time's passing, brought him in for a hug, tears held back behind murky brown eyes. Francesca reacted similarly; Jäger could not believe how far along her fourth pregnancy had come.
"Mother - sister - I have such tales from the sea. Such wonderful things to show you. But I am weary, and have not slept on solid ground in too long. Forgive me if I do not join you for supper this eve," the sailor relented.
Francesca and Mrs. Schenkkan shared a look that Jäger recognized. The look of knowing sorrow. Despite the joyous exultation of the children as they awaited their souvenirs, Jäger's mood sunk.
"Mom? Is...something wrong?"
"Jäger...it's about your father..."
Jäger stood beneath the light of the moon an hour after the nightly lunar eclipse, at his father's headstone. The elation he'd felt from being home, after so long, had all vanished. Now he felt nothing. No happiness, no pain. Shell shock.
There were no words. He'd waited three months to see the man who'd shaped his life. The man who'd built their estate with his bare hands, who'd devoted his life to the Schenkkan name. But Jäger would never see him again - not even to say goodbye.
He dropped to his knees and wept into the dirt.
Leuther Halvard Schenkkan. Age 56. Black lung, they said. Killed by the city he'd helped create.
When the wind chill dropped too low for Jäger to stay outside, he went into the barn and locked up the towering wooden door. He would sleep there, for whatever time he had left to sleep.
As he made his bed from hay and an old tattered blanket, he approached the stall closest to the front of the barn, where he beheld a sleeping pegasus. The only true friend he had left in this city. The winged horse had slept most of the night, and was still unaware that its owner had come home.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be better.
Jäger lay upon the scratchy hay and closed his heavy eyes, but sleep was a distant dream. When he noticed the light streaming through the barn doors turning blue with the morning's approach, he stood, restless, and stretched. Perhaps all he needed was a Kralic sunrise, with its vibrant polluted pinks and greens.
He lit a cigarette and watched as the moon sank to the horizon out west. He heard the pegasus stirring in its stall - she could smell him. She was probably itching for a ride - with Leuther gone, gods only knew how long it'd been since she'd stretched her wings.
Jäger flicked the embers of the tobacco into the sky. As they fell, Jäger saw the brief flashing of burning paper pass in front of the glowing moon.
And as the cigarette died a graceless death, Jäger noticed that the embers had not.
Seven bright red lights emerged from behind the moon and streaked through the sky, toward the horizon, before disappearing as suddenly as they'd appeared.
What in the hell...I must not have slept a wink...
His pegasus whinnied for attention - it was time for her feeding.
Jäger looked once more to the moon, sure he'd been hallucinating. He saw no sign of the streaking fires.
He entered the barn and approached the pegasus; the horse neighed and retreated from his touch. She acted as though she did not remember him. Either that, or she was scared of him. Definitely scared of something...
The sound of hay crunching behind Jäger betrayed his assassin's presence.
Reviews are appreciated! Poor Jäger just can't catch a break, can he?