Her eyes catch three shapes ahead. They grow closer, and she realizes that they are the falcon knight scouts she had deployed beforehand. It's then she notices that her palms are sweaty with anticipation, and she's been gripping her mount's reins so tightly that her knuckles are white and her nails dig into her palms. Two of the knights fly over her, and she assumes they fall into formation in the back. The third swoops below and maneuvers herself so that she comes up to the right.

"The castle is being overrun," The knight shouts over the winds.

"I'm curious," The sorcerer began. His commander stood to his right, her head aligned with his shoulder. Off in the distance, a cluster of black specks marred the orange-gray sky. The sun hid behind the clouds, almost shielding itself from what it was about to witness.

"About what?" His commander responded apathetically. The question was obviously directed at him, as no one else was around, yet he didn't get the feeling that she was actually speaking to him.

"Why Lord Grima ordered the castle to be attacked. Evacuations began quite some time ago. Anyone worth killing wouldn't be there now." Not that he minded. Actually, he'd been waiting for that moment. He'd stand amidst the glorious flames of bloody retribution and they would finally know the pain he felt when they razed his village and stole everything and everyone.

"If you want to be poetic about it," his commander's voice yanked him out of his musings, and for a moment, he thought she knew all of it. She still chose not to look at him. "I'd say symbolism. Or irony, if you'd like. If you were looking for a simpler answer, then nothing. Destruction for the sake of destruction." Again, not something he was adverse to. "I may communicate with Lord Grima often, but I cannot claim to know his desires. Only guess. But if you're worried about Naga's children slipping from our grasp, you've misplaced your concerns." She seemed amused at the thought. If he looked at her then, he would see a faint, twisted smile on her face.

"Your Grace! Enemies ahead! Approaching fast!" Despair quite visibly washed over the exalt's expression as the crowd dissolved into panic. The knight riding beside her gritted his teeth.

"We'll have to meet them."

She pulls a dagger from its holster on her waist and turns it in her hand. It's freshly polished- he can see the reflection of her eyes glistening with sadistic mirth. "Three steps ahead, Argath."

"Can we retake it?" Lucina shouts, and before she can dread an answer the knight responds. The moment she hears the regretful, hesitant voice, she knows.

"Unadvisable, Highness. The Risen appear to be coming from within the castle, and a much larger force marches on the castle from the west. Even if we could reclaim the castle- somehow- their reinforcements will take us. The city is lost." Too late- "But the exalt and the princes were able to escape, along with many Ylisseans. We should hurry to their side now, for yet another force of Risen pursues them." Relief washes over her for the briefest of moments, but then her heart sinks once again as she spots Ylisse in the distance, the burning houses encircling the castle in a sea of flame.

"Lucina! We have to –"

"What about inside? Are there people still in the city?" Her answer is the wailing and screams that drift up with the flames and smoke as they fly closer.

"Form up! Form up!"

"When I give the signal, charge! We have to time this right to allow for a detour!"

"Sir, they're increasing pace!"

"Dammit, get into position, now! On my mark-"

"Ah." He's been so captivated by Ylisstol burning in the distance that he nearly jumps. He turns to her instantly to see her looking somewhere past the castle.

"They've made contact."

The hooves pound like thunder but their footfalls sound earthquakes and I run right to it like a child into its mother's arms say, are you watching, Mother? You probably shouldn't I rather you wouldn't I imagine you'd cry I'm about to but don't worry I'll be a man like you taught me and Father never did because he died was it like this? What would you say? Though I don't think I'd hear you the hooves and the swords and the spears the axes the arrows the flames the thunder the wind the shouts the screams the blood it's deafening it's blinding all I know is this thrust it there don't step on that him her gods no one deserves that I don't want that then make sure you don't get it.

Their blood, Mother, it's black or is it ours I can't tell there's too much of it to tell the difference but I know mine it's in me right now for now not like Orran's he's over there it's over there. It keeps coming Mother they keep coming and you have to keep going and I move slice I get one I've got a lot but they keep going I'm afraid but I'll keep going too do you think I'll be like be remembered like they remember Father served the Halidom of Ylisse and her exalt but there's no halidom now never was no exalt no holy sons and daughters of the divine dragon just warmongers with blood-crusted hands that offered praise and thanksgiving to Naga forsook us long ago left us for her kingdom somewhere in the sky but you still believe Mother thanked Naga for everything even the gray skies the dead fields your sleepless nights even that gravestone you call husband and the murderer you call son will you still have one when this is over if it's ever really over because the dead keep rising because the bodies keep falling were any of them like me had a family had someone who wonders where they are now what do they think of marching around stitched up red glowing eyes purple-skinned flies crawling out of sores swollen entrails barely held in by shredded skin rotted wounds it's been a while since I've smelled this smell of decay unfulfilled wishes lives that should have ended but never did is this really how you live by the sword die by the sword in the name of some dastard on a throne that nobody will remember or everybody wishes they could forget

I don't think I'll ever forget this ground so bloodied it squelches if you step on it gods

I should concentrate thinking too much gets you run through can't let that happen won't make you bury me Mother I promised you're all I have I'm all you have

"It appears they've done a decent job of a distraction." His commander observes as she pulls a tome from under her cloak. A ways in front of them, on the ground, is a festering, squirming mass off screams and rings of metal. Below it, the ground is stained a dark red. The rest of Ylisse's populace is another cluster of specks away. "Ah, well. They've had their fun." With one hand, she grips the reins of her pegasus, preparing to dive. The other readies an Arcfire tome. Argath follows suit, bracing himself on his wyvern. Watch, mother. They're going to burn as you did.

He feels something warm from behind, then suddenly the warmth is a blaze, an explosion of searing heat and brilliant pain that spreads from his back to the rest of his body until he's completely engulfed by it. He opens his mouth to scream and all he can think is this is death as he slips off his wyvern. Amidst the ravenous flames eating away at his body, the shock, and the screaming, for the briefest of moments, there's clarity- Is this what it felt like?

He hurtles to the ground, dead long before he hits it.

It burns for a moment then it's cold now it's cold and warm hurts dripping spilling out are you watching Mother don't please don't look away not now I'm not ready to see

Drops of something wet and cold fall on his face. Rain? How long has he been lying here? It's definitely been a long time- when he tries to recollect himself, it's that feeling when you wake from a deep sleep, but you know you're just going to close your eyes again. The rain increases. When he gropes around with the hand that he can feel, his fingers clamp on wet, sticky objects- mud, grass, or some other things he'd rather not think of right now. He hears the mud slosh near where his right arm should be and he swears he catches a glimpse of dark blue.

Highness. Milady, he tries to croak, but he doesn't think it comes out. The sloshing gets louder, closer, and it stops by him. He tries to open his eyes wider, but all he can see is blue and some outlines of gold.

Sir-

Is it over

They're safe we succeeded in that hold still I'm going to call

No don't

He opens his eyes a little more, and it's just enough see her kneeling there, crestfallen, dirty, beaten. A far cry from earlier today "-why don't you come along and make sure that doesn't happen". He did his job, at least. The only problem is that he'd intended to make it past this. In his wildest imaginings, he'd see the Halidom restored, and bask in the vibrant tranquility once chased away by the torches of war and religion. He fancied it a reality someday (and part of him still does), but judging by how numb and weak he feels, the only vibrant tranquility he'll get is the afterlife- hopefully. He relaxes his eyelids, and everything goes blurry again.

Permission to request something of Her Highness

A delay. The rain pounds, and he thinks it's gotten colder.

Granted

Folke reaches up with his hand to grasp her shoulder, but he can only raise it towards her. As she tiredly takes it in her own, Folke notes that someone's is shaking. Whether it's his, hers, or both, he can't tell. So in an attempt to be encouraging, he squeezes her hand a little and smiles slightly. None of this is your fault this burden was thrust upon you unjustly anyone else would have broken by now

Win my country back

When he ventures one last look at her he sees it- the heavy, fearful determination that her father once wore as he led the Shepherds to the Valmese fortress I'm going to end this I promise you I will, and he knows he won't have to wait for an answer. For now, that's enough.