Movement IV
Pherae
It was midday already, the winter sun a blinding beacon of light in the opaque sky. By now, the smells of blood, human flesh and death had left the army back at the Shrine. They had departed early in the day, so they could leave that damnable place and continue on Lord Athos' orders – to return to Ostia and search out the resting place of Roland's legendary sword. Most of the soldiers, particularly the ones who heralded from Lycia and Ostia, were eager to be rid of Bern's demonic forests and winter.
Eliwood of Pherae was jerked out of his thoughts quite suddenly at the sound of teeth chattering and a young boy's soft voice speak questioningly. His eyes met upon the shivering form of Ninian, one hand holding the reigns of Lyn's mare that she and her younger brother both rode upon while her left, ringed hand held her fur cloak tight to her pale, silk-clad body. There was a woolen scarf around her neck as well and gloves hiding her hands, so the only skin shown was on her brow and cheeks.
"Are you alright?" he asked suddenly, pulling back on his horse so that he fell even with the green-haired girl. She turned her haunting eyes to him and forced a small smile, though her teeth were still clattering together due to cold.
"I-I am-m fine, L-Lor-Lord Eli-Eliwood," she said softly, forcing one of her rare smiles, "Just cold . . ."
He raised an eyebrow. It was noon, the sun was out and most of the snow in this particular part of the woodlands was barely covered in powdery snow. He had taken off his own cloak, since his tunic provided more then enough warmth to make due with.
"Are you sure nothing is bothering you?" Eliwood asked, not to sound like he was prying too much, "You seem too pale to be just annoyed by cold weather."
Nils looked at his sister warily, chewing his bottom lip and finally speaking on his sibling's behalf. "Ninian has had . . . apprehension for a few hours, since when you spoke with Lord Bramimond last evening. She didn't sleep well."
A slight spasm of anxiety and fear wretched his heart. He knew Ninian could foretell danger, hell, he wouldn't be alive right now if she couldn't sense mortal peril, and to hear that the arcane dancer had felt apprehension the night after they'd arrived at the scene of a massive slaughter wasn't the greatest thing he could have heard. Out of the corner of his eye, he looked over to Merlinus' caravan, where Rose had taken refuge amongst the food and supplies.
Coloring fled to the dancer's cheeks immediately. "I felt uneasy last evening," she explained, "But Nils could not feel anything and it passed quickly. It just was nerves, after seeing the Shrine in its state."
Eliwood sighed, not wanting to think about it. They had debated on whither of not they would bury the soldiers or leave them to vultures and other scavenger birds, but in the end Hector had won the argument and they had abandoned the corpses.
('Would they have done any different if it was us dead on those fields?' the Ostian lord-ling had barked in response to Mark's protests.)
Even though she had been a lesser fact of importance, Eliwood still found his aching mind think of that Lady-General Clockwork and what Hector had transferred from Clockwork to Eliwood, Lyndis and Mark late last night. None of the words had gone down too well with any of them.
Mark had sat brooding for several minutes, his brow and thick eyebrows furrowed as they always did when he was presented with a difficult situation. Lyndis had shut her eyes in intense concentration that had ended in an angry sigh and the Sacaen marching back to her tent in a silent fume and Eliwood had not been able to comprehend any of it, due to the aching migraine that couldn't leave his head alone.
The phrase 'It is by Miss. Mary's orders that these heretics fell today' was particularly unpleasant though it left one thing clear in all of their minds; this act was done by a religious madwoman. The thought made Eliwood's skin crawl, as it had when they had met with the heretic Kenneth over two months ago. Those who deal out horrible deeds in the name of religion weren't worthy of mercy, weren't worthy of any sort of pity or sympathy, which went against his instincts.
Eliwood shook his head, only adding more pain to his headache. It never seemed to go away these days. Ninian continued in a softer voice, as if sensing his mental pain.
"Perhaps we should stay longer at the next town we come to, so we can rest and draw together plans. It has been a tiring few weeks, and we should get as much rest as we can."
"Too risky," Eliwood answered, closing his eyes so that a particularly bright spot of sunlight wouldn't sting his eyes, "I won't put you two at risk by staying at an inn and letting the Black Fang catch up with us."
"We will be fine, Lord Eliwood," said Nils eagerly, "You, Lord Hector, Lyn and Mark have never let us be captured. Don't become too paranoid for our safety that you let yourself die of exhaustion."
Again, Eliwood sighed and turned his horse's path so that he ended up away from Ninian and Nils and closer towards Mark and Hector. The Ostian and Nabatan were arguing over something, and the topic fell to his ears when he drew closer.
". . . She knows something about that attack!" snapped Hector agitatedly, "And we need to find out what!"
"How could she possibly know something?" replied Mark, gripping his journal tightly. Eliwood had never seen the tactician without his leather-bound journal, in which he wrote down everything from battle plans to what he ate for breakfast. The peacock quill he wrote with, its plumage dull and faded and missing a good few feathers, was stuck in the middle as a bookmark. "She doesn't even speak the same language as that psychotic Clockwork woman you said!"
"That bitch said she was looking for a girl with a silver pocket watch," spat back Hector, narrowing his navy eyes, "Which is that silver pendent Rose or Mary or whatever her name is wears!"
"Maybe it's popular wherever they come from," said Mark icily, "Take one look at Rose and tell me, honestly, if she can be from Elibe with facial features like that?" He held up a hand and began to tick off characteristics. "Can't be Ilian; eyes are too violent and no Ilian has red hair like that, can't be Sacaen, Bern doesn't produce midgets like her, too thin and small to be from the Western Isles and too pale to be from Nabata. The only country I'd even consider her being from is Lycia, and, well, her face is too thin to be a Lycian woman."
"I'm going to have to take Mark's side on this one Hector," interjected Eliwood, wary of being at the butt of Hector's mounting temper, "She could have found that necklace somewhere, or could have been given it as a gift. There are too many variables, and I doubt that someone who flinches at a sheathed sword would steal something that incites an invincible battalion to chase after her."
Hector glared at his friend in anger. "And she couldn't possibly be a good actor? She couldn't possibly be paranoid because she's on the run?"
"Would you rather kill her and keep the pocket watch?" said Mark, the grip on his journal white-knuckled and tight, "Would that calm your nervousness?"
"Shut up, both of you!"
It was Lyndis. The Sacaen had been riding with Kent, since she had given up her own horse to the dancer and her brother, though now the swordswoman had dismounted and had one hand on her Mani Katti and one on the mahogany of her bow.
"We have no way of knowing whither or not this girl is guilty or innocent," the Caelin princess said icily, her long strides easily keeping up with their horses, "And until we can find more information about her, let's focus more importantly on stopping Nergal before Elibe is destroyed by dragons. Does that sound like a good idea?" she asked sarcastically, venom dripping from her words.
Even Hector got scared by Lyn when she spoke like that, though he did little to show it. Turning to look at the path ahead, the Ostian lord fell silent and Eliwood hid the smile on his face when he turned to Mark.
"We're about two days away from Pherae if we go at a faster pace," said Mark immediately, guessing Eliwood's thoughts correctly, "Maybe a day and a half if we ride without sleep."
"You can be the one to tell the army, then," said Lyn, a cruel sort of smile twisting her tan face, "That way you can deal with all of the resignation papers and pay all of them their checks out of your own pocket."
Mark's thick eyebrows met in a dark scowl and he gnashed his teeth together in an effort to calm down. "Oh? You would rather dawdle around and let them have their beauty rest while a madman gains more power to destroy the world?"
"We can't do anything without troops, O Brilliant Tactician."
Eliwood smiled and turned to the bickering Sacaen and Nabatan. "If they'll ride through tonight, tell them that we'll stay for three weeks in Pherae."
That silenced both of them in an instant. Lyn shook her head and her knight's stern voice answered in place of his charge. "Three weeks?" asked Kent, raising a copper eyebrow, "Is that the wisest course of action?"
"We need rest and supplies," explained Eliwood calmly, "And time to plan a strategy. It'll help us all, I'm sure of it."
"And you aren't worried that the Black Fang will attack Pherae?" asked Lyn. Eliwood gave a smile and a small chuckle.
"The day my father's castle is conquered is the day that Hector apologizes for being rude."
Pherae's capital city was exactly as Eliwood's memory of it, from the merchants and buyers haggling over prices to the sights of the blooming lilacs and gardenias in the gardens surrounding Castle Pherae. Many of the citizenry paused to look as the army moved through the city towards the castle, many of them grinning joyously and waving at the sight of the Marquess' only son and heir to his post.
In the back of the army, Wil and Rebecca looked pleased at being back in the city of their birth, though both Snipers were pale from lack of sleep. Rebecca tucked a stray lock of emerald hair behind her ear and adjusted herself in the saddle of her chestnut pony.
"Three weeks here," she said breathlessly, "It'll be like being back home, won't it Wil?"
Her childhood best friend looked at her and smiled to, though his was more strained. He had, after all, run away from home years ago without any word of explanation. "We'll probably spend most of the time getting supplies," he said, a depressing outlook compared to his usual optimism, "So I don't think we'll be able to send greetings to everyone we know."
"Don't be a spoilsport Wil," she said, unable to stop the smile creeping off her face. He grinned to, and looked eagerly at the upcoming figure of the Marquess' castle. Neither of them seemed to notice a slim, redheaded girl slip from Merlinus' caravan and dart out into the crowds of buyers and Phereans, clutching to her chest a stolen lance.
The guards at the gate of the castle immediately saluted upon seeing Eliwood's face and commanded that the drawbridge be lowered. Eliwood, for one, was looking forward to seeing his mother again after all this time away from home. He knew that Lady Elenora would throw a fit seeing him pale and thin, but it was better then the hordes of women who'd lately been only after his head.
Lyn was looking apprehensive as she followed Eliwood, Hector and Mark into the main hall of Castle Pherae. She was used to Castle Caelin, but she still felt out of place amidst the sweeping corridors decorated in red and blue of Eliwood's father's home, even though her friend had assured her that there was nothing to feel nervous about.
"I should really go and get supplies," said Mark testily, "I'm no good with nobility."
"So what does that make us Mark, farmers?" said Hector jokingly, though there was a look in his eyes that clearly told the tactician not to answer.
"Well, from the way you swing you're axe, I'd reckon blind woodcutter."
"I thought I recognized your voice Hector."
Lady Elenora, stewardess of Pherae in the absence of her son and widow to the late Lord Elbert, was sweeping down the halls at an alarmingly fast pace for a woman dressed in heavy skirts. Her deep indigo hair was tousled and her skin was pale, but she smiled widely and flung her arms around her son's thin shoulders.
"Saint Elimine blesses me, it's been so long Eliwood," she breathed, pulling away and looking at her son in the way that only a mother could do, "You've lost weight," she noted sullenly, "And you're so pale. I thought Sir Lowen and General Marcus would have made sure you ate correctly."
"It's good to see you to Mother," he said with a smile as Elenora turned to look at Hector, standing on tip-toe so that she was level with the Ostian's chin. "You haven't changed a bit Hector," she noted and looked to where Lyn and Mark stood warily.
"Ah, Lady Lyndis, Lord Mark," said Elenora with noticeably more formality then what she had used to address Eliwood and Hector, "It's good to see you two again, Eliwood spoke so highly of you when I last saw you."
Lyn bowed stiffly, Mark inclining his head in a jerk nod as if both of them were made of plywood. Elenora looked back to her son and tucked a lock of hair that had come loose back into her elaborate bun.
"Have you come to tell me your journey is over?" she asked hopefully. Eliwood shook his head.
"We're on our way to Ostia, but we're going to stay here for a few weeks to rest and gather supplies."
"That's good," responded the lady, though her voice had taken on a sullen quality, "Time to catch up on things. I do have something to ask of you to do, Eliwood, if you have the energy."
He raised an eyebrow and Mark leaned in curiously, tucking his journal away into the pocket of his long cloak. Elenora licked her lips and spoke softly. "A woman arrived this morning and asked to speak with the Marquess about urgent business. She says her name is Wolfhound, but she won't speak with me; just the Marquess."
"What does she want?" asked Eliwood quickly, hand moving instantly to his rapier. Elenora smoothed her long skirt and lead them down the hall without another word. Eliwood tried to calm his aching nerves.
It was odd, that a woman had appeared to speak with the Marquess the same day they arrived in Pherae, when it was quite common knowledge that the Marquess of Pherae had been dead for nearly four months now. This was also only a week after a bizarre siege in which the soldiers had not been killed. Were the events connected? At the very thought, his breath caught in his throat and he gripped the knuckle bar of his rapier very tightly.
The dining hall was immense and well cared for by the servants in the castle. The cherry table was high polished and not yet set for dinner, though now only one woman ate at the table. The hall's only occupants were two guards at the door and a thin, very short woman who leaned against a chair, examining her long nails.
Elenora cleared her throat and the unknown woman walked forward, bowing as she did so and smiling vacantly. She had almost lime green hair and brilliant hazel eyes, with skin made paler by the tangerine-orange coat she wore over a blue dress. In short, she presented the image of a very colorblind person.
"Are you the Marquess of Pherae?" she asked to Eliwood in a voice thick with a unique accent that made it hard to understand.
"You would be . . .?" asked Hector snappishly. The woman chose to ignore Hector and spoke only to Eliwood in a lofty, wavy sort of voice.
"My name is Fictor Volfhound," she said easily, though with her accent, she probably meant to say 'Victor Wolfhound.' He frowned. A woman named Victor? "I vant to know if you hafe seen this woman."
From the incised pocket of her coat, she drew out a small piece of paper and held it out so Eliwood could take it. It was a painting, a very detailed one painted on glossy parchment, of a young woman with long red hair and a black dress. She had a vaguely familiar look to her, and he realized with a jolt that woman in the portrait was.
"Why are you looking for this woman?"
Wolfhound raised an eyebrow. "So you hafe seen her?"
"Maybe," said Hector crossly, "What is her crime?"
"She has stolen a priceless item from my mistress, a necklace called a pocket vatch, and she has killed a relative to my mistress as vell. Her name is Roseland Fletcher, but she might be calling herself Rose Blackthorn."
Eliwood stared at the smiling girl in the portrait, holding in her hands a smooth wooden violin. Was she a killer and a thief and responsible for that attack on the Shrine of Seals? Had he really stood up for her just two days ago against accusations that were now proven correct?
"What is your mistress's name, Dame Wolfhound?" asked Eliwood casually, trying not to sound suspicious.
Wolfhound smiled and pulled her long braid back into a bun that lasted only a few seconds. "Her name is Mary Fenrir."
"Oh? Mary Fenrir?" asked Eliwood, shooting a sidelong glance at Hector, "I think I heard that name before." Wolfhound tilted her head on an angle in confusion. "Really? Lady Fenrir lifes across the ocean. I didn't think that anybody here on Elibe vould knov her."
"Well, we did meet somebody who said that one hundred men were eaten on orders of a 'Miss Mary Fenrir.'"
Wolfhound's pale face went red in fury and she bore her teeth in a furious snarl. "Damn Clockvork!" she snarled and darted forward immediately, grabbing Elenora by the neck and drawing a stiletto knife from her braid. Lyn darted forward, Mani Katti drawn and quickly followed by Eliwood and Hector with their own weapons drawn. Eliwood was quicker, raising his rapier only to be greeted with a scream and flash of a silver blade.
Lady Elenora fell dead to the ground, eyes wide with fear as blood gathered in her mouth.
I do not own Fire Emblem, Nintendo does. I own all original characters.