~ Chapter 4 ~
"Good morning!" Anna called to Owain, waving cheerily, as Owain made his way into the main dining room of the inn. Predictably, Drake was already awake and sitting beside the merchant. He looked up from his plate of fried eggs and ham, and greeted Owain with a nod and a smile.
"Good morning," Owain replied politely, as he seated himself. The innkeeper stopped by a moment later to bring him a plate of breakfast as well.
"I ordered breakfast for you already. I hope you don't mind," Drake said. "It seems there isn't any selection to be had, anyways."
"Thanks," Owain said gratefully, as he dug into the hearty meal hungrily. It was simple fare, but that didn't bother Owain much.
"Faux Lemuria isn't far. We should be able to reach it within a few hours," Drake said, as Owain ate. "I visited the apothecary last night. The lady promised to have a few concoctions ready for us by midday at the latest."
"That leaves us a few hours to kill," Anna remarked.
"I thought we could visit the market. Dragonflame Isle doesn't have too many merchants, but maybe we can find a suitable replacement for your sword, Owain," Drake said, gesturing towards the worn, bent, and scratched cutlass hanging from Owain's belt.
Owain nodded and swallowed. "That could be pretty helpful," he agreed.
Drake shot him a quizzical look. "Are you alright, Owain?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" Owain said, looking at Drake strangely.
"You don't seem like yourself today. I would've expected a comment about legendary weapons and their scars of many victories. Or maybe about a new legend being born," Drake said, with a faint smile.
Owain shrugged. "A weapon doesn't make its wielder." His rather deadpan tone seemed out-of-place, but Drake refrained from commenting on for the moment.
Still, Drake eyed Owain curiously, with a hint of suspicion dwelling behind his ruby eyes. He had overheard a bit of a commotion the night before, but when he checked in the inn's second floor hallway, all seemed quiet and normal.
"Umm… you wouldn't happen to have anything, well, longer, would you?" Owain asked hesitantly, as he inspected the weapon a middle aged merchant offered to him. The market was even smaller than Drake had led them to believe, and only a grouchy sailor with tanned skin, weathered by the salty ocean breeze, had any weapons available at all. Though he knew he shouldn't be so picky, Owain was thoroughly unimpressed by the vendor's wares.
"Egad! What do you take me for, boy? I'm a trader, not a darn smith! What you see here is what I've got!" the merchant grouched.
"But… I asked if you had a sword," Owain protested. "This isn't even long enough to be a dagger!"
"Aye. It's a steak knife. But it's got a sharp pointy end and that's as close as it gets. You buying or what?" the merchant replied.
"I think I'll pass," Owain declined politely. "I have a fairly good knife of my own. Thanks anyways."
"Bah! Wasting my time," the irascible vendor spat. He seated himself in the shadow of the general store once more, as Owain replaced the small, blunt knife on the man's makeshift stand, which was really just a thick log with the top and bottom trimmed smooth.
"Did you consider trying the axe instead?" Drake asked quietly, as they stepped away from the merchant.
Owain grimaced. "Did you see that axe? It's more worn than my cutlass. It's also more of a hatchet than a genuine battle axe." He turned to Anna. "What about you, Anna? Would you happen to know where I can find a good merchant or two that might have a sword for sale?"
"Not out here," Anna said, frowning. "I have a few contacts on the mainland who trade in weapons, but that doesn't do us much good right now."
"Oh well," Owain sighed. "I'll just try to be careful." Silently, he wished he had taken the time to learn how to properly care for a weapon. Many warriors couldn't be bothered most of the time, and instead opted to replace weapons every now and then, but the few that were truly careful with their prized armaments could use the same weapon, year after year.
Owain looked down at his own scuffed sword distastefully. It had been rather beaten and worn even when Owain first claimed it from the pirate he had felled in battle. Pirates weren't known for taking good care of their weapons. In truth, it had been a miracle that this sword had lasted as long as it did.
They stopped by the apothecary instead, hoping that the old healer would have their order ready to go. The concoctions were indeed finished, and by noon, Drake's still unnamed clipper sailed away from the docks, heading southwest.
To Owain's surprise, it wasn't difficult to persuade Anna into sparring with him again, and their swords clashed once more only an hour into their voyage. Perhaps Anna sensed that Owain would be fighting more cautiously, in an effort to protect his weapon from further degradation. Either way, their session was a stark contrast to their prior duels, in that Anna actually held the upper hand more often than Owain did.
"That was pretty good," Owain said grudgingly. "I guess the training is making a difference after all."
"Though I'm surprised to see you improving so quickly, Anna," Drake observed, visibly impressed.
Anna shrugged. "Maybe it's just luck," she said. "Or are you holding back, Owain?"
Owain gave a short, indignant huff. "Pfft. Holding back?"
They were at it again soon after, and this time, Owain managed to put Anna on the back foot quickly, easily controlling the rest of the battle.
"Yep, you were holding back," Anna said, sounding annoyed.
"Another round? Or are we done?" Owain asked.
"Done," Anna replied firmly. She turned and marched below deck, seeming thoroughly annoyed.
"Were you holding back?" Drake asked mildly, as he and Owain watched Anna disappear into the cabin.
Owain shrugged. "I don't think so. But maybe I was being more protective of my weapon than usual."
Drake said nothing and only looked at Owain. His piercing stare made Owain feel rather uncomfortable. "Is something wrong?" Owain asked hesitantly.
"Did something happen last night?" Drake asked flatly.
Owain wavered indecisively. It was odd, seeing as he hadn't known Drake all that long, and still hadn't learned all that much about his new companion. At the same time, he felt an inexplicable urge to share his doubts with someone. "I had a few strange dreams, that's all," Owain said softly.
Drake's gaze softened. "Good ones, I hope."
"I'm not sure," Owain admitted. "They were memories, really. Some good, some bad. But all of them about the friends I left behind when I came here."
"It must have been difficult," Drake said sympathetically. "Were they just friends? Or were they your comrades?"
"Both," Owain replied. "I fought side by side with many of them for years."
Drake looked lost in his own thoughts. "That sense of camaraderie is hard to forget, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Owain agreed.
"Still, it must be serious for you to abandon your dramatic flourish," Drake said teasingly.
Owain shrugged. "It began when I was little. My friends and I had a difficult childhood. I know it's silly, but I wanted to help my friends forget their troubles, even if it was only for a single minute. Sometimes they were amused. Sometimes they were annoyed. But honestly, that was okay, because it meant they weren't thinking about worse things." It meant they weren't crying anymore, Owain finished silently.
"That's surprisingly deep. Noble, too," Drake observed.
"There's nothing noble about making a fool of yourself, even if it's for your friends' sakes," Owain said, blushing. "But I guess after that dream, I realized none of them are here with me, and… I don't know. The theatrics just kind of feel… empty, I guess."
"Why didn't your friends come with you? You seem to care for them a lot. I'm surprised they would leave you to your quest alone," Drake asked. A shadow seemed to cross his eyes as he finished his question. "Did something happen to them?" Drake added, sounding worried.
"No, nothing like that," Owain said. "I don't think any of them expected me to travel quite so far. I didn't expect to be gone this long, either, for that matter. I might have gotten a little bit carried away."
"Well, I meant it when I said I'd be willing to help you find your way home. I don't know if there's anything I can do, but whatever help I can offer, I will. Once this is all over," Drake said.
Owain smiled. "Thanks, Drake."
As it was with the island where Earth's Bastion was situated, there were some abandoned docks extending from the part of Faux Lemuria that remained above sea level. They were constructed in the same slapdash manner as the docks of Dragonflame Isle and Earth's Bastion, indicating that they had probably been built by treasure hunters rather than those who had once lived upon the island.
"This is really weird," Owain said, as he peered over the edge of the dock. The water was incredibly clean, and he could see dozens of feet into the depths, deep enough to make out the tops of several stone buildings.
"Hmm… I guess any of the original docks that were here when the island sank have long since rotted away," Anna said, standing at Owain's side and similarly looking down towards the sunken city.
"Probably. Some of the buildings may have been built from stone, but the docks would likely have been wooden," Drake said. He spared the buildings below a glance before strolling purposefully down the dock.
"Where will we begin our search?" Owain asked curiously.
"I'm not certain," Drake admitted. "We know the key won't be above water. There's no way it would have remain undiscovered for so long if it had been hidden above sea level. Thankfully, the island didn't sink too far. Since the earth key was hidden in a temple of some sort, perhaps we should be looking for a similar temple here."
The three of them wandered the island for some time. It was roughly circular, and approximately a mile in diameter. Very few of the ruins were on the higher portions of the island though – most of the buildings had been fully submerged.
"This doesn't seem right," Owain said, after staring into one of the lakes. "The roads just… end. It's like each of these lakes was a little tiny group of buildings, cut off from the rest of the city."
"Some of the buildings seem out of place, too," Anna observed. "I haven't seen any farms, and I doubt there was enough land here for fields, anyways. But there's a mill down there," Anna said, pointing at a tall submerged structure with the skeleton of a windmill hanging above it.
Drake smiled. "Very observant. It's one of the mysteries of Faux Lemuria. Although on the metaphorical surface, it resembles a city that was later submerged, the city's layout is… questionable, to say the least."
"But why would someone build a city this way?" Owain asked.
"No one's really certain," Drake said, shrugging. "It's also rather strange that so many of the buildings are situated in the lower parts of the city, and so few upon what used to be hills. On Dragonflame Isle, for instance, most of the buildings are intentionally constructed as high as possible, to avoid flooding. It's the same in most island and coastal civilizations."
"And no one has ever found anything to explain it? Old journals or plans or anything like that?" Anna asked.
"Nope. No treasure either, like I mentioned before," Drake said wryly. "This island is one big mystery… like more than half of the islands in this region. Even Dragonflame Isle. No one knows why they call it Dragonflame Isle."
"Perhaps the dragon Laguz used to live there," Owain suggested halfheartedly.
"Not according to any dragon Laguz I've ever met," Drake said, shaking his head. "This has always been a Beorc civilization."
"You've mentioned the dragons a few times now," Anna noted. "How well do you know them?"
"Fairly well," Drake conceded. "It's not unusual. Goldoa is not as secluded as it once was. Before the War of the Goddess, Goldoa was determined to remain isolated from the rest of the world. They suffered many losses in the Tower of Guidance, though, where the Radiant Hero and his comrades confronted the goddess herself. Those that survived learned from their trial, and now often venture forth to visit Laguz and Beorc kingdoms alike."
"Really? I don't think I've ever met one," Owain said. "Though, to be fair, I haven't seen more than a couple small villages near the coast and Port Toha."
Drake smiled. "I know of at least one Goldoan who frequents Port Toha, though he does not often reveal his heritage. You may actually have met him without knowing it."
"Really? What's his name?" Anna asked curiously.
"Sorry. I'm afraid he doesn't want his identity widely known," Drake said with a shrug.
The three of them walked around the island in silence for nearly twenty minutes, searching for anything that resembled a temple of sorts, until they came to one particularly large lake. A single building lied within the lake, and the top of the building protruded at least fifteen feet above the water's surface.
"I think this might be what we're looking for," Drake said.
"It's hard to believe no one's ever searched this building before. It stands out a bit, doesn't it?" Anna observed.
"It looks like people have tried," Drake said decisively, pointing at some marks against the top of the building. The building was remarkably plain in design, and there were plenty of light scratches and gouges. "Someone probably swam across, or used a raft, and tried to break through the top of the building."
"But it's made of stone," Anna said. "It's not that hard to break through stone bricks."
Drake shook his head. "The pillar was crafted from stone bricks, too. In fact, it occurs to me now that these bricks look the same as the ones that Earth's Bastion was built from. The stone seems more resilient. Certainly not indestructible, but enough to persuade explorers to search elsewhere, or for an alternate route."
"How could these buildings be made from the same bricks?" Owain wondered. "Would that mean this city was built by whoever built the pillars?"
"It's possible," Drake said. "Without knowing more about the pillars or this city, we can't rule it out."
"So… how do we get inside?" Anna asked nervously.
"We swim," Drake said, pulling forth a small glass vial filled with a semi-transparent blue liquid. "Though I'm not too much of a swimmer, I'm afraid."
"Neither am I," Anna said quickly. Both of them looked at Owain.
"I can swim," Owain said, and he reached for the vial. He inspected the liquid closely. "Will this let me breathe underwater?"
Drake gave a short bark of laughter. "Wouldn't that be nice? I'm afraid not. But it's supposed to make your body more efficient with air, so you can hold your breath longer. Here, take the second vial too."
Owain stripped of his tunic and tied it around his waist – billowing clothes made swimming far more difficult. He then carefully tied one vial to the makeshift sash, before uncorking the second vial. "I'll be right back," Owain said, and he quaffed the liquid in a single gulp. He waited several seconds, and when he didn't feel any different, he decided that waiting longer probably wouldn't do him any good. Maybe the apothecary had ripped Drake off.
After measuring the distance of the dive to the temple's open doorway, Owain dove into the water, and propelled himself toward the opening with wild and uncoordinated strokes. He knew how to swim, but unfortunately, he wasn't exactly an expert. Despite his earlier doubts, the potion seemed to be working, and he didn't run out of breath nearly as quickly as he expected.
"Are you sure it's a good idea to send him alone?" Anna asked, after Owain disappeared beneath the water's surface.
"I trust him. Don't you?" Drake asked.
"Well… I guess, but it still seems like it could get dangerous. He's a good fighter and all, but what if there are traps inside?" Anna said uneasily.
Drake grinned. "Don't lie. You're just worried he'll happen across treasure without you."
Anna blinked, and glanced at Drake blankly. Then she smiled sheepishly. "Alright. You got me," she admitted.
When Owain reached the inside of the temple, he found it surprisingly empty. There was no furniture, or even any indication that there had ever been furniture. It was as if whoever had built the temple had erected the walls, then left. He wondered if perhaps the island had been flooded just as the temple had been completed.
There weren't even any staircases leading to the open floor – just a large, round opening. Owain swam to it, wondering how far the water had pushed up into the temple. But the water had only pushed a couple feet into the upper floor, and he soon burst free of the water's surface.
After catching his breath, Owain looked around, and to his surprise, the interior of the temple almost perfectly matched Earth's Bastion. Like the lower floor, there was no furniture, and the supporting columns were plain and undecorated. The floors were made of the same square stone tiles. The same vines covered in luminescent fruits were growing along the walls and floor.
The only decorations at all were a handful of flower beds, and a small pedestal. Unlike the ones in Earth's Bastion, these flower beds were laden with various waterborne flowers, growing in small basins of water rather than soil, with small vents leading to the lake below.
Upon seeing the flower beds, Owain was immediately reminded of the gardens of Castle Ylisse. Even in his own timeline, during Grima's reign, before Ylisse fell, the gardens were kept clean and orderly, a sanctuary of serenity, kept away from the gloom that permeated the world around them. Even someone like him, who didn't pay much mind to flowers, could find a moment's peace within that garden.
Owain stared idly over the garden's rails. From here, he had a perfect view of Ylisstol's markets.
The city was busier than ever, but tensions ran high, and even though he was too far to hear them, he could see the explosive bickering between the citizens. There were soldiers amidst them, and acting surprisingly uncouth. He couldn't make out the individual figures gathered around one of the farmer's stalls, but he didn't have to. It was a common enough sight. Gold wasn't in shortage, so that was never the cause of these disputes. But some soldiers had no qualms in pushing civilians out of the way, demanding to be served first. Frederick, Owain's father and captain of the Ylissean Royal Guard, would no doubt discipline these men if he knew of it, but with so many offenders, it was simply too much to handle.
With a sigh, Owain reflected upon how his father had been feeling more distant lately. He couldn't rightfully blame his father, either. Owain's mother, Princess Lissa, had insisted upon joining Ylisse's defenders when the risen assaulted Ylisstol four months ago. Queen Sumia herself had been there, leading the new and inexperienced Pegasus knights personally until a risen-hurled javelin brought her Pegasus out of the sky. Lissa had tried to reach her sister-in-law's side before it was too late, but the risen quickly overwhelmed her, too.
Frederick had never been the same since. Even before losing his wife, he had rarely smiled to begin with. Now, his stone cold expression hardly changed at all. He had lost Exalt Emmeryn years ago. He failed to save Prince Chrom on that terrible day where Grima was reawakened. And now he had lost not only his wife, but the last royal of the generation he had been sworn to serve.
"What are you doing here?" a girl's voice rang out, stirring Owain from his thoughts. Owain turned to see Severa standing behind him. The sixteen-year-old girl still remained Lucina's best friend, and was among the most gifted fighters of their generation. There were twelve of them, the descendants of Chrom's Shepherds, in total. All twelve of them lived in the castle now, training hard. Each and every one of them knew that one day, their parents' battle would one day be theirs.
"Just thinking about Dad," Owain said glumly. He instantly regretted speaking of his father, though. With the death of Queen Sumia and Princess Lissa, Frederick was the sole survivor of Prince Chrom's legendary Shepherds. Of the twelve children descended from the Shepherds, Owain was the only one who was not an orphan. To have a parent to fear for was a luxury none of his friends could enjoy any longer. Severa her younger sister, Morgan, had it worse than most of the other children, too. Their father had disappeared when Prince Chrom was killed, and their mother had been among the first to perish in the war that followed.
"Good. I'm thinking about him too. Can you kick him for me when you get the chance?" Severa grouched. Owain quickly moved aside, making space on the bench for his friend, but she seated herself against the wall instead.
"What did Dad do?" Owain asked, surprised. These days, all his father did was train the new recruits and discipline the soldiers that were caught acting inappropriately. Some of the recruits would complain about Frederick's rigorous training regime, but Severa never seemed bothered by it.
"He's a total dunce!" Severa said angrily. She pitched her voice low in an effort to mimic Frederick's gravelly, dispassionate tone. "You're making your mother proud, Severa! You use a lance as well as your mother did, Severa! That was one of your mother's favorite moves, too, Severa!"
Owain grimaced. He knew where this conversation was headed now. Severa's mother had always been a sore spot for her. According to the other Shepherds, Severa had once been as close to her mother as any little girl could possibly hope to be. But it wasn't easy growing up in the shadow of the last and greatest Pegasus knight. Compounded with the fact that Cordelia had left Severa and her sister alone, and Severa had grown to hate her mother's memory. "I'm sure Dad didn't mean anything bad by it," Owain said, trying to defend his father.
"Of course not," Severa said bitterly. "He doesn't mean anything bad. He just always assumes everything I do right comes from my mother. And of course, anytime something doesn't go perfectly, it's because I'm not my perfect mother, after all."
"No one thinks that," Owain argued.
"Oh, really? Tell that to the other soldiers then, who look at me with disappointment every time I miss a parry, or my lance goes off mark. Or better yet, tell your own cousin who gets all sad and mopey every time I tell her I don't want to be a Pegasus knight like my mother was," Severa said sarcastically.
"Lucina? She wants you to be a Pegasus knight?" Owain asked, startled. Lucina and Severa had always been the closest of friends, and it was surprising to think that the two girls could have had a falling out over as trivial a thing as this. Besides, Lucina was sensitive enough to know how Severa felt about this particular subject.
Severa rolled her eyes. "Gods. Are you daft? Of course not. I'm talking about Cynthia."
Owain cringed. Of course it wasn't Lucina pressuring Severa. Lucina's younger sister, on the other hand, wasn't nearly as perceptive. Or maybe Cynthia just didn't know Severa too well, despite growing up in the castle together. Cynthia revered her heritage, unlike Severa, and always seemed to assume every other descendant of the Shepherds was the same. "You know Cynthia. She just wants to live up to her parents, and thinks we should all aspire to the same thing," Owain reminded.
"Right. Because we should all dream to have kids one day, then run off recklessly and die somewhere and leave them all alone," Severa retorted scathingly. "Oh but no one cares about that, because my mother's death was a tragedy. She didn't want to leave her kids, but she had to go and fight for 'what really mattered'. To fight and die for Chrom? Or was it to join Dad in death instead of staying here for Morgan and me?"
Owain didn't have a good answer to that. In truth, very little was known about the Shepherds grim fates. Severa's father, Robin, had disappeared immediately after Chrom's death. The prince and his tactician had been best friends, and practically brothers. Still, there were whispers that it was Robin himself who had killed Chrom. Owain wasn't sure he believed those rumors.
And then there were the many missions, as the Shepherds left, trying to take the fight to Grima before the fell dragon recouped his strength. No one ever spoke of how the battles went – the bodies the survivors returned with were answer enough.
Owain didn't know why Cordelia left, but he had a feeling it was for the same reason his own mother had insisted on defending the city alongside the queen. But his mother's death pained him, too, and that was after Owain had enjoyed many years beside his parents, despite the darkness around them. There was no escaping the sense of abandonment that came with the loss.
"Just don't listen to them," Owain said, on impulse. "Forget what they're saying, Severa. Our parents were all supposed to be legendary warriors, remember? But everyone knows you're the strongest out of the twelve of us, except for maybe Lucina. You'll be your own legend one day."
"What are you talking about? This has nothing to do with being a legend," Severa fumed. "I don't care what other people think."
Owain thought to point out that the fact they were having this conversation at all was enough to show Severa did care, but self-preservation thankfully kicked in before he could speak, and he stayed tactfully silent.
"I'm just tired of everything I do being compared to her."
"People like to compare," Owain said sagely. He then grinned impishly, as an idea came to him. "Those who would measure us against our progenitors have been deceived! They do not recognize the potential brimming within us! One day, we shall transcend those who came before us, and succeed where they once failed!" he said, hopping to his feet and flourishing his arms dramatically.
"Sit down, you idiot," Severa huffed, rolling her eyes. "And our parents didn't fail. They were fighting against the fell dragon himself. I'd like to see anyone put up a better fight than they did."
"One day, Severa, one day," Owain said gravely, as he sat back down, doing his best to hidehis smile. It didn't escape his notice that Severa was now defending her parents. Of course, now she was annoyed with him, too. Then again, Severa was always annoyed with him, and he hadn't been skewered… yet.
Owain shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He must've been more homesick than he realized, if all it took to set off memories of Castle Ylisse was seeing a flowerbed. Or maybe it was just the aftermath of his dreams.
Trying to put the nostalgic feeling behind him, Owain approached the pedestal. Lying upon it was a key, identical to the one that Drake had used to open Earth's Bastion, save for the color. Oddly enough, there were veins in the stone, seemingly made of flowing water. When Owain reached out to touch it, though, it felt like ordinary rock. It didn't even feel as if there was a seam.
There was an inscription on the pedestal that Owain hadn't noticed at first. After taking the key and binding it carefully to his makeshift sash, he crouched down to read the inscription.
From water, we were born,
To water, one day we shall return,
From the sea comes our strength,
Here lies the first step of your next trial,
To prove yourself against the ocean's might.
Numbly, Owain began approaching the entrance again, quaffing the other potion as he slipped into the cold water once more. He knew now that it was no coincidence the temple was almost empty. It was too perfect. It was as if this entire temple had been built, knowing the island would one day be submerged to the exact depth to make this room hard to reach, but not flood it.
As he reflected upon his new discoveries, Owain realized Anna and Drake had been right about the seals, too. This temple and Earth's Bastion had been meticulously designed. The creators of the Dominion Scepter had gone to great lengths to properly protect it in a fashion would allow its ownership to pass to a worthy wielder.
At the very least, he was no longer worried about the scepter being lost for good. But he still remembered the warnings of the pedestal on Dragonflame Isle. He, Anna, and Drake were still quite in the dark when it came to their impending trials.
Worse yet, if these trials were meant to prepare them for battling a dire eidolon with the fabled Dominion Scepter in hand, Maelstrom was certainly far stronger than his previous battle with the behemoth had indicated. Even if they found the scepter, and even if they could someone track Maelstrom down, the battle would not be easily won.
