Alright, this is a relatively short, but very important chapter. It's not short because of the timing (by the way, happy holidays for whatever you're celebrating), if that's what you're thinking. It kind of just is. Anyway, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy. This'll be the second chapter of three with no author's notes (and not just because I'm trying to figure out what to do with my ever expanding bio page…I explained last chapter).
Also, sorry a shorter chapter took so long. I got slammed by finals (including a research paper the size of my better chapters using mostly sources dating from before the Roman emperors), but that's no excuse. If I wanted to, I could have had this done before finals. I just had a hard time writing everything down. I finally realized that my idea to wait after the holidays was stupid because A, then I'd be giving you a gift late, and that's bad, and B, I'd be caught up in the holiday buzz anyway even afterwards.
Anyway, let's get to it:
The rain kicked up as soon as the palace had faded from sight. It was heavy and wet, the sort of rain Martin wouldn't have expected from a desert. It quickly turned the once arid soil into a quagmire, one that was making their progress through the ravine all the more difficult. On the bright side, it would only add to the confusion that was so far keeping the Plegian Royal Guard from pursuing them. The dark, brooding clouds and the rain were strangely fitting. Nature was mirroring how they were all feeling.
Emmeryn was dead. A fall from that height alone shouldn't have been survivable, but when it was combined with a blast of dark magic that had shattered rock and the debris that had fallen with her? How could anyone live through that?
It wasn't supposed to be this way. That blast of magic had been a retaliation, an attempt to make sure Emmeryn didn't leave alive. It wouldn't have happened if the Ylisseans Shione had rescued hadn't been there, if they had all died when they were originally supposed to.
And the worst part was that Emmeryn's death was the best thing that could have happened with these new circumstances. She wouldn't have sacrificed the lives of those knights for her own sake. She had managed to make a stirring and beautiful speech to her enemies. And now that she was dead, future events would proceed normally. Chrom would become the next Ylissean ruler, Plegia would be defeated, and everyone would honor Emmeryn's sacrifice without knowing just how unnecessary it was.
The tactician shook his head. How had they screwed everything up so very badly? What the hell had happened? A few months ago, his biggest concern had been finding something worth a plate of food and a warm bed. Now he was balancing the cost of lives and their effects on the future of this world.
As if it wasn't bad enough, there weren't even any lives he could hold Emmeryn's up against to say that it had been worth it, that her sacrifice had saved someone else. There had been no word from anyone on the rescue team. Even the ones who had survived the initial attack hadn't returned. Shione, too, was gone. He'd disappeared shortly before the pillar had fallen. If he was dead, if any of them were dead, Martin didn't know what he would do. Too much had gone wrong already. Too many had died needlessly.
Even as his thoughts whirled around endlessly, his feet kept moving forward, almost autonomously. The mud was everywhere. It slowed their progress to almost a crawl. But everyone struggled through it, pushed constantly by the fear of a Plegian counterattack and the desire to leave the palace and the nation.
"Hurry!" Basilio called out, at the head of the group. "There should be carriages waiting just through the ravine!" He was pushing through the muck to the best of his ability, and was making good progress. He was one of the few among them who didn't seem dazed and confused. Whether his long life had desensitized him to loss or he was just hiding his pain, Martin didn't know. But he was the only one who could be said to be still leading the group.
Chrom was walking with the rest of them, but it was clear his own mind was far away. He didn't say a word, or react to anything. All he did was move forward. Even that seemed to slow, and eventually he stood still.
"Chrom, please!" Robin called out to him.
With a groan, the prince stirred himself. He was barely holding together.
"I'm…I'm coming." He managed to say.
"What about all the missing?" Martin called out, finally compelled to say something. Were they just about to leave his friend behind?
"We can wait for them on the other side of the ravine. It does no one any good if we get trapped here." Basilio responded. "Quickly, now! We're almost…" He trailed off, noticing something ahead. Martin noticed it too. A pair of shapes that quickly resolved into aggressive Plegian soldiers, axes at the ready and scowls on their faces. They wore fur cloaks, sodden with rain, and their helmets dripped with moisture, but their attention was fully on the Ylisseans. Martin heard Basilio curse.
Chrom took notice, as well. Martin watched as his eyes narrowed, and his listlessness transformed into anger. He knew what was going through the prince's mind. Chrom had finally found something to blame for his sister's death, something to take his rage out on. Something to keep his mind from continuously reliving what had just happened.
"Plegians!" Basilio called out. Everyone took notice immediately, drawing weapons and readying defenses. Chrom wasn't the only one who wanted revenge. "I knew it couldn't be that easy…they're right in our way! We must fight!"
"Ylisseans!" A voice called out, and Martin paused. The speaker hadn't sounded spiteful or angry, something he had come to expect from the men Gangrel sent to face them. The man who stepped out of the fog was dressed like a Berserker, but he was far from unkempt. His beard was well trimmed and his hair was clean-shaven. His scarred face was grim, but not harsh. He approached with a bearing that could have been called noble. He neared his Ylissean enemies and watched impassively, his feet firmly planted and his arms behind his back.
"I offer you mercy!" He called out. That had to be a first. No one had called them dogs or curs yet, either. "Surrender to me now and live!"
"Surrender?" Basilio called out gruffly. "Sorry, I'm not familiar with the word." Martin prepared for a fight, but the Plegian's response caught him off guard.
"Emmeryn would not have wished for this to come to bloodshed." The man answered, calmly.
"Don't speak her name!" Chrom immediately cried out, furious. Martin couldn't say he blamed him. Was this guy trying to bait them? But then he saw the man's expression sadden
"Your rage is justified, Prince Chrom." He shook his head sadly. "But the meaning of your sister's final sacrifice was not lost on me. I suspect many Plegians who heard her final words would say the same. If you lay down your weapons, I vow to protect you as best I can." They couldn't surrender, of course. Even if he was telling the truth, it would doom Ylisse. But this man wasn't like the others. He had a sense of dignity that the other Plegian leaders they had encountered lacked. So why was he with them?
"How can we trust you after what your barbarous king has done?" Frederick echoed what everyone was thinking. Even his stern but stoic demeanor had been phased. "I think we shall take our chance with weapons in hand!"
"I suspected you'd say as much." The Plegian replied, taking a long, slow breath. "So be it, Prince Chrom. I shall endeavor to grant you a swift and dignified end." He turned and walked away before anyone could react, no doubt to fortify his position. But his men were still here, and they seemed ready for battle.
Martin readied his spellbook, the rain dripping right off the enchanted pages. But he couldn't focus. He wasn't angry or vengeful like the others…just terribly sad. Even now, at their lowest point, the fights just kept coming. The peace Emmeryn would have wanted wouldn't come.
Kellam was glad for the rain. He didn't want anyone to know that he was on the verge of tears. Not that they would have noticed anyway. He was practically invisible, even to his friends. Of course he noticed the constant confusion about his presence, or rather the lack of it. He saw everyone look right through him. Even the constant clank of his heavy armor did nothing. Of course, whenever he talked to people, he played everything off like he didn't notice, or care, or thought it was funny. In truth, he was sometimes even proud of how easily he could pass unnoticed. But every now and then, he realized how much it hurt that no one knew his face. Even their strange allies from across the sea had done a better job of knowing when he was around than his own comrades had.
Not the Exalt, though. He hadn't ever talked to her, but she had been a common sight around the capital. Whenever she had passed, she had always graced him with the most beautifully honest and serene smile. It had been at him, he was sure. The first time, he was sure it had been a mistake. He looked all around him to find who she must have been looking at. But he had been alone. When he turned back to her, she had nodded at him, as if to ensure him she was looking his way. She had recognized him! Even after that day, she always seemed to know when the knight was there. She couldn't have known who he was beyond that he was a Shepherd, but she had seen him when no one else had.
Now, that serene smile was gone. And so Kellam wept for someone he had barely known.
He stopped slogging through the mud with everyone else, watched as a pair of Plegian soldiers appeared out of the driving rain in front of them, and readied his lance with the others. He had watched on as the enemy general had made his speech. But he hadn't heard it. Instead, he struggled with his emotions, and slowly his sadness turned to rage. Rage at the people who had killed Ylisse's Exalt, the ones who had hurt his friends, even at everyone who looked right through him. And so when the battle began, he charged.
The pair of brigands barely had time to react when the massive wall of metal and rage charged through the rain. The first one had almost readied his weapon when Kellam cried out.
"Come on, look at me!" He heard himself cry, his voice full of anger and grief. He threw his full weight behind his lance as he struck the Plegian, killing them instantly. The brigand's ally had already started his attack, but Kellam was prepared. He brought up his shield, blocking the blow, and then drove it forward in a bashing attack, staggering his attacker. With another cry, Kellam turned to face him and struck at the Plegian. His momentum drove the now dead soldier to the ground, and Kellam fell with him.
He hit the ground, and lay there for a few moments, suddenly exhausted. He…he had stopped them. They wouldn't hurt his friends. Then, for a few moments, all he could hear was the rain pounding on his armor. Then footsteps. A hand on his back.
"Kellam! Kellam, you damned pip-squeak. You better be alright." With a great deal of effort, he rolled himself over. Through the rain, he could see Sully, scowling at him. And yet…was that concern?
"I'm…okay. I don't know what came over me." The cavalier held out her hand, and he grasped it. A few moments later, the knight was standing upright.
"I'll say. That was impressive, even to me. Almost scary, even, you damned idiot." Had he made an impression? Kellam looked around, only to find that everyone was staring at him. There were no Plegians here. They had probably fallen back and fortified their positions.
Chrom was the first to recover, clearing his throat. He signaled, and the rest of the Shepherds took up their positions. But Kellam knew from the glances they threw him that he had made an impression.
He would do everything in his power to keep them safe, even if they didn't see him. He would be their invisible shield. Emmeryn had given her life to protect them all. He would not falter if he had to do the same.
The Prince of Ylisse stared out across the battlefield while Robin formulated a plan of attack. Crown Prince…could he really call himself that anymore? He was no Exalt. He could never replace his sister. But could he even claim the title of prince, when he had failed to protect the one thing closest to him?
"Prince Chrom." He turned to the source of the call. It was Cainne. Something about her seemed familiar to him…and then he realized. She seemed possessed by the same anger, the same sorrow, that he felt all too acutely.
"Prince Chrom, I would like your permission to face the enemy's general."
"What?"
"If we can neutralize him, the rest of the Plegians won't stand against us. We can pass through unopposed, without a fight."
"No. It's far too risky." Chrom replied. "Besides-"
"Besides, what?" She cut him off. "The Plegians need to pay? You need revenge for your sister? You know that Emmeryn would-"
"Don't!" Chrom yelled. "Don't you dare speak like you knew her!"
"You aren't the only one who feels her loss, sir." Cainne replied, her voice losing the sharp edge it had held. "But she believed in peace even at the end. She would not have us needlessly slaughtering one another."
Chrom knew she was right. Emmeryn would have tried to prevent all this bloodshed. The anger he felt ebbed away.
"Fine…" he finally answered. "Go. We'll wait here, hold out as long as we can until Gangrel catches up to us." Cainne nodded, and left him alone with his thoughts.
Mustafa thought the rain was fitting. A day such as this didn't deserve sunlight or warmth. He knew that what had occurred was a tragedy, no matter how necessary. But he was a soldier, not a king. He would not question what had happened, and he certainly would not show his doubts to the men that counted on him.
And so when the Ylisseans had escaped the palace and a squad of wyverns had arrived at his front door with orders to stop them from leaving, he had accepted. Mustafa was in command of the only fort in the pass, along with its garrison. He and his soldiers, supplemented by the wyvern riders from the palace, were the only things stopping the Ylisseans from escaping. But the news of what had happened at the palace, what their Exalt had said, travelled with the wyverns, and now he could hear the grumblings of worry and discontent among his troops.
"Forgive me, sir," It was one of the newly arrived troops addressing him. The man was practically quaking with fear. "But I...I no longer see the justice in hunting these people down. I accept any punishment you see fit, but after all that's happened...I just can't." The man's resolve steadied as he went on, and though it was clear he feared retribution, he did not back down. Before Mustafa could reply, however, the solder's comrade spoke up.
"How dare you question the general's orders! You know full well the punishment for insubordination is death!"
"B-but, sir! These people are-" Mustafa cut him off.
"These questions are not ours to ponder, lad." Mustafa spoke calmly, with no anger in his voice. He felt sympathy for the man in front of him, even if he did not agree. "The soldier does not judge. The soldier delivers judgment."
"Sir, I..." It appeared he was not swayed. "I cannot raise my lance against them. Even if... Even if it means death." Why? What had caused this? Could it have been that…?
"...You were there when Emmeryn spoke, weren't you?" The soldier nodded, and Mustafa understood. "So be it! Those of you unwilling to fight are dismissed!"
"But I don't want to abandon you, sir!" This wasn't cowardice, then, or fear of the Ylisseans. The man wanted to be loyal, but he couldn't bring himself to fight the enemy, not with what he had heard. From what Mustafa had gleaned from the others who had seen it, he himself couldn't fault the man. He didn't think this war was just any more than this poor soldier, not any more. And yet…
"I cannot defy the king, lad. I know him well. He would murder my wife and child to set an example. I will accept the blame for your actions today. Now go!" For a moment, the young man could only stare in awe at Mustafa.
"W-wait, General!" He finally stammered out. "I see a cause worth fighting for, one I believe in: loyalty to my general." Mustafa smiled at that.
The rain seemed different, now. It was still somber, yes, but at the same time, Mustafa could almost imagine that it was washing away old burdens. He and his men were not fighting for the king who sat on the throne, but for their country, their family, and each other. The Ylisseans, too, now had something to fight for.
Whoever walked out of this valley would be those whose conviction proved stronger. Whoever failed here would be remembered by their people as heroes. The fate of two nations rested on what happened next. Mustafa knew it, and he knew the Ylisseans did as well.
And so, when he noticed the Ylissean standing on the edge of the cliff above, staring at him, Mustafa knew his conviction would not be enough to win this fight.
He realized that he was prepared to die, if it meant fighting for something he believed in.
He realized that his country would think of them as heroes, and that his family would live well even when he was gone.
He realized that their deaths here would mean that Ylisse lived another day, and in the face of what the Exalt had said, he wasn't so sure that was a bad thing.
And so, he would welcome his fate with open arms, as was the way with his people and all those who worshipped the Fell Dragon. He could not change it.
But he would not let the Ylisseans win so easily.
Cainne watched the Plegians prepare for battle from overhead. She had been lucky enough to find a path up one of the large hills in the center of the valley, and had avoided most of the soldiers who were arrayed against her friends. Now she was able to look down on their last line of defense. She could even see the general who had first challenged them, the one whom she had told Chrom she would neutralize.
Even through the rainfall, she was able to hear the conversation he had with his subordinate, and her path became clear. Then he looked up, and his eyes locked onto hers.
"So, then, have you come to kill me?" He called out, and his troops took notice. Suddenly, every eye was on her. She leapt down the cliff face, to the nearest wall, and then into the courtyard, facing him. He seemed surprised by her agility, or perhaps by her non-human nature, but he stood his ground.
"I would see that no more harm befalls my friends." He nodded.
"I am General Mustafa of Plegia." He told her, and drew his axe. "If you wish to keep your lives, then you must win them."
"Hold, general!" She called out, before he could attack. "I would offer you the same mercy you offered us. Lay down your arms, and we will leave you be."
"Is that so?" Mustafa replied after a moment, surprised. "Do you speak for the rest of the Ylisseans?"
"I speak for no one but myself, but it is what Emmeryn would have wanted. She gave her life hoping for peace."
"And yet, it is my king that killed her. Why would you offer us mercy?"
"Why would you offer those who just stormed your own capital the same kindness? I have heard how you treat your men, and who you fight for. If you fear for the safety of your family, why stop the people who have the best chance at casting down the king who would harm them?" At this, the general paused for a long moment before replying.
"I wish it were that simple, Ylissean." He shook his head sadly. "But if I did as you suggest, it would be too late for them. Even if you were to dethrone Gangrel tomorrow, his wrath is swift. And there will always be another to take his place." Then, his expression hardened. "I fight for my family and my country, something I am sure your prince understands well. And neither would have me back down."
"Then, if there will be no persuading you, I challenge you." At this the general paused. Cainne continued. "Only you and I need to fight. No one else needs to die. Whoever falls, their forces surrender." Mustafa stopped to consider this. And then, he nodded.
"So be it, Ylissean. We shall meet here in one hour, and decide this. Convince your leader to follow your lead and have your allies stand down. I shall do the same and we will meet here."
"What are you doing?" The Plegians had offered Cainne a room in a far tower in which she could prepare, so that neither combatant would have an upper hand due to fatigue or cold from the rain. She was under guard, of course, for any sabotage, but they had been courteous. And as for Lyta, she hadn't needed anyone's permission to find Cainne.
"What I think is right." Cainne replied. Lyta buried her head in her hands.
"You're meddling in affairs that aren't yours to meddle in. Need I remind you that we're here to find Aiden and get home? That's it. Nothing else."
"That's why we were here, the four of us. But I joined the shepherds because I wanted to help. Now…now so much has happened. Because we were here."
"Because we interfered when we shouldn't have. All of this happened because of us."
"So I'm going to set things right." Cainne answered. "We have spent too much time trying to tread the line between interfering and keeping things the way they were. And that's why the Exalt is dead. We can't tread that line anymore. And if I have to choose, I'm choosing to make a difference."
"You're set on this, then." It wasn't a question.
"Yes." Then the door to the tower opened.
"Ylisseans," the soldier stated. "It's time."
Somehow, Cainne had convinced the prince to follow along. He hadn't necessarily agreed, but he hadn't disagreed, either. In his current state, Chrom had decided against passing judgement. Robin, as tactician, was in control of the army, and he had thought the idea was good enough.
So they sheathed their weapons and marched to the fort, wary of a trap. But Mustafa had kept to his word. He had also ensured them that further reinforcements from the palace would not arrive, as far as he knew. Gangrel had thrown his lot in with their garrison, and their garrison alone. Now the Shepherds were encamped outside while Cainne prepared.
Robin's only worry was the possibility that Cainne lost. He'd asked her what they were supposed to do if they had to surrender. He couldn't stomach the idea of falling into Gangrel's custody, but starting a skirmish would negate the entire reason both sides had entrusted their fates to two individuals.
Cainne had simply responded that she wouldn't lose.
In truth, she had no idea what would happen if she lost. If that came about, it wouldn't concern her any longer, as the duel was supposed to be to the death. But everyone had entrusted their freedom to her. It was a responsibility she did not take lightly.
Why had she done this? She was still asking herself that. She couldn't justify another bloody battle so soon after Emmeryn's speech. She was weary of the bloodshed. And though she didn't talk about it, she felt Shione's absence deeply. Even if that clown was constantly on her nerves, he had always been loyal. He had been there, when and wherever there was. Now…she desperately hoped he was merely lost.
But the heart of the matter was one simple fact. Emmeryn had given her life for a cause she believed in. Cainne could do no less.
She walked outside into the rain-soaked courtyard. Mustafa was there already, standing at the opposite end of the square, gaze unflinching. Mud squelched under the Taguel's feet as she crossed the field, turning to face him. A ragged cheer echoed halfheartedly through the air. Apparently a few of the Shepherds had managed to convince the Plegians to allow them to watch.
"Are you ready?" The general asked.
"If there is nothing else I can do to dissuade you." Cainne replied. The general smiled, then turned his gaze to the crowd who watched from above.
"Soldiers of both nations! We fight here to avoid greater bloodshed, in the name of an Exalt who only wished for peace. Should I fall, I would expect you, my soldiers, to follow my orders and lay down your arms. I would only ask that the Ylisseans spare my men. Should I prevail, I will do my best to ensure that they, and their country, remain unharmed. For though fate would have us meet as foes, we must remember that all of us, no matter who, fight for what we believe is right."
Then silence hung over the courtyard. It seemed no one even dared breathe. Cainne readied her lance. Someone, somewhere, rang a bell, and Mustafa was on her.
He moved incredibly quickly, leaping through the air almost instantly after the bell rang. Cainne barely had time to roll to the side as the axe cleaved the air where she had been. The Plegian general did not relent, taking advantage of his momentum. He came at her from all directions, swinging and thrusting with his axe almost inhumanly quickly. Cainne didn't have an opportunity to raise her weapon, let alone fight back.
Then, as she dove away from another strike, her back hit the wall. Mustafa swung at her head, and she ducked. The axe clanged off the stonework, and in that momentary pause, Cainne sprung out of her crouch straight at Mustafa. She hit his chest straight on and knocked him over, unbalanced as he was from the swing. Cainne kept going, ducking into a roll and landing on her feet. She turned around, spear in hand. Surprisingly, Mustafa was already on his feet.
Now it was her turn to be on the offensive. She lunged at him, knowing that she had to end this quickly before he could attack again. Blow after blow rained down on the Plegian, one flowing into another, but none connected. What he couldn't dodge, he met with the head of his axe or a bone plate. Then, Cainne stepped back. Mustafa quickly opened the distance between them. He was prepared to avoid the spear that was thrown at him. But it distracted him enough that he didn't react in time to avoid a few hundred pounds of angry Taguel that suddenly charged him.
Cainne's beastly forehead collided with the berserker, driving him towards the wall. If she could pin him there…but it was not to be. Mustafa actually grabbed onto his attacker, and attempted to pull himself onto the Taguel's back. She'd be defenseless. She leapt and shook her head to the side, throwing him off. He landed in the mud, and Cainne immediately reverted to her human form and grabbed her lance, not far away from where she had stopped. She couldn't let that happen again.
She barely brought it up in time to deflect his next attack. Damn, but he was fast! She had expected recklessness from a berserker, but he fought with purpose and planning, the same qualities that she supposed had earned him his position. She batted away strike after strike with the handle of her lance.
He swung from high, again. She held her weapon over her head. It stopped the blow, but the handle shattered. The force of the hit drove her to kneel. Mustafa leapt back, instinctively reacting to the cracking wood and the splinters that had been sent flying. Cainne hung her head, and her arms dropped to her side…these damned shoddy lances would get her killed.
The rain continued to pour down. Cainne felt it dripping off of her face. Emmeryn…Shione, Aiden…everyone. They'd all be caught, forced to surrender by her foolish attempt to save lives.
Mustafa approached, still wary. He knew his opponent wasn't human, that she didn't need a lance to fight. And yet, she wasn't moving. Had he landed that last blow?
What an irony, Cainne thought as Mustafa drew close, to be killed not by the most ruthless and vicious Plegian soldiers, but by the commander who only wanted the best for his people. But then, that was how conviction worked. It was why Chrom fought, why the Shepherds and her friends stood by him. It was what had made Emmeryn sacrifice herself.
Cainne had to make things right. And that all depended on the next few seconds.
Mustafa approached, still wary. He raised his axe. Cainne's hand went to her amulet, and the resulting flash blinded Mustafa. The now transformed Taguel flipped over in midair, and suddenly Mustafa found himself propelled across the arena by the force of Cainne's kick. Then, just as suddenly, she changed back. She charged at him before he could recover, delivering a withering flurry of blows. She used the shattered halves of her lance like two individual weapons, battering him with the solid end and driving him to the wall while fending him off with the lance's tip. In seconds, Cainne had the Plegian general pinned against the stone. One end of the lance pinned his arm, the axe having fallen to the ground. The bladed end was against his throat.
He blinked, clearing his eyes. Then, once he gathered his bearings, he closed them again, and nodded.
"Please, let this be the end." Cainne said, making sure to keep the pressure on his throat. "Surrender, and we can all walk away from this."
"We are far past that point. I'm sorry." The general took a deep breath. "Please, spare my men. Hold to your word."
The sound of a large flying creature passed overhead. Cainne didn't dare take her gaze off of Mustafa. But he seemed almost…resigned to his fate. It almost even seemed that he had a slight smile on his face as he faced death. Cainne braced herself. She…she had to end this.
"W-w-wait! Ylisseans, hold!" Cainne turned to face the speaker. It was a wyvern rider, just landed. That had been what she had heard fly overhead. He wasn't dressed for war…in fact, he seemed young. He was fumbling around with a bag strapped to his back. "I-I bring word from the King!" The lad was trembling as he pulled a parchment out of the sack. He tried to open it, oblivious to the fact that it was already being soaked through. "It's for the Ylisseans! General, you-you'll want to hear it too!"
"Boy," the general, still pinned against the wall, tried to speak past the spear point. "I'm a bit busy. Doubt anything the King could say will change much at this point. The best course of action you could take would be to leave."
"N-n-no, sir! You need to hear this! Th-the King of Plegia orders all soldiers involved in the operations against Ylisse to-to stand down! He extends a formal apology to Prince Chrom and the nation of Ylisse for the events earlier this day, and requests a chance to discuss peace! Until that point, all Plegian troops are ordered to stand down, and he hopes the Ylisseans will agree to at least a temporary ceasefire!"
"What!?" Cainne wasn't sure who had shouted. At this point, she supposed it didn't matter. Every one of them had to be thinking it. The Mad King…wanted peace? Cainne stepped back from the wall, letting Mustafa fall to the ground. She gazed at him. The man was shocked, and she couldn't blame him.
"This from the country who would not have you back down, general? I believe the rules of this war have just changed."
Camp was set up just beyond the ravine. True to Basilio's word, his servant Olivia had been ready with transport out of Plegia. The main body of the Feroxi army had long ago left, after providing the distraction for the failed rescue attempt. But now, with the Mad King's request for a ceasefire and peace talks, the Shepherds were unsure if leaving the country was necessary.
"Milord, this is obviously a trap! He plans to draw you in so the Fire Emblem does not leave Plegian soil!" Frederick argued. "I should have died before allowing the Exalt to be captured. I not allow the same mistake to happen to you!"
"So what now, oaf?" Flavia asked in the meantime, turning her gaze to Basilio. "Has the Mad King ever done something like this?"
"Don't look at me, I'm not in charge anymore!" Basilio quickly shot back.
"I picked a fine time to regain the full throne." She closed her eyes.
"Maybe…maybe Emmeryn's…er, perhaps Gangrel was affected by the Exalt." Robin told Chrom, stepping around the issue.
"You did your best, Robin," Chrom replied, cutting straight to the issue Robin had avoided. "You have my thanks. It's my own failures that haunt me now. And now this…Gods, I'm just so powerless…"
"It's not your fault either, Chrom." Robin immediately answered. Chrom looked at him, and shook his head.
"She did it for me, Robin." Chrom slowly answered. "So that I wouldn't have to live with the guilt of either choice, she chose for me. She sacrificed herself rather than give up what could one day save her people… But now, can I justify walking the emblem right back into Plegian hands because of some hope that she changed things? Or do I walk away now and give up on what she had dreamed of?" He cast his gaze downward. To Robin, he seemed to sink in on himself.
"Chrom…" Robin called out softly. "Listen to me. Look at me." When the prince slowly returned his gaze, he knew what to say.
"I was powerless once, too, remember? And yes, alone, I don't think either one of us is half the person your sister was." The tactician began. "But together...maybe we can be something more. If you fall, I'll be there to pull you back up. When you fight for your sister's ideals, I'll be by your side. You don't have to become your sister, you know. You can still be true to yourself. You just have to give people hope in whatever way you can. And whatever decision you make now, I'll stand with you."
"And what if I can't? Chrom lashed out. "What if I'm not worthy of her ideals? What if I fail? Robin, what if I drag you down with me?"
"If you aren't worthy, you'll keep at it until you are." Robin replied with confidence that surprised even himself. "And if we both fall down… well, that's what friends are for, isn't it?" And for once, Robin even cracked a smile. Chrom didn't have a chance to reply when he was cut off.
"That's right." Nowi chimed in. "I wouldn't even be here if not for you."
"You gave me your trust, and now you have mine." Tharja added. "For the time being."
"Were you unworthy, I would have left long ago." Lon'qu stated matter-of-factly.
What followed was a great outpouring of support for Chrom, one which he had sorely needed. One which, truth be told, everyone in the room had needed. The Shepherds had entered the canyon pass disjointed and grieving, but now they had a reason to fight. Martin, who had been listening in with the rest, would have added his own support, were it not for Lyta suddenly appearing behind him, tugging quietly but insistently on his and Maribelle's shoulder. Not wishing to interrupt, they quietly exited the tent.
"Good, you came." The Plegian soldier told the three as they approached. "The victor of the duel wanted your help." The rain had slackened now, and the storm would soon pass. The sun had already been revealed close to the horizon, illuminating the cliffs.
"Really?" Maribelle asked. "What could you all possibly want?"
"A few pegasus riders showed up just now, over the canyon. They refuse to talk to us or believe us in the first place, but they look like they're in a bad way. They might need healing," The soldier looked at Maribelle, "and the lady said they might talk to you two." He finished, looking at Martin and Lyta, before pointing towards the canyon mouth. Martin could make out Cainne, waving. But she wasn't looking at them.
Martin and Lyta rushed over to her side. She acknowledged them with a nod, then set her sights back on the mouth of the canyon. Martin stared, but couldn't find anything that she could be looking at. And then, suddenly, there was movement atop the cliff. Slowly, a familiar form materialized. He was battered and covered in filth, but Martin recognized the poleaxe and the pegasus that appeared behind him. Within a minute, Shione had rode Anem down to ground level, and dismounted a few feet away from his friends.
"Hey, he said, cracking a short-lived grin before his gaze fell. "I guess you guys miss-" His words were cut off when he was nearly bowled over by a heavily armored Taguel. He was too surprised to react when Cainne engulfed him in a hug. Martin just stared.
"Uh…okay, now I know I must have hit my head." Shione finally said. "The demon bunny showing compassion?"
"Can you just shut up for once?" Cainne replied, her voice muffled as she buried her face in the cloth around his shoulder. And for a moment, he did.
Finally, she backed away, holding him by his shoulders at arm's length. "If you ever run off on us and get lost again, I will not hesitate to hunt you down."
"There's the Cainne I know." Shione replied, before wisely stepping back. Then, the sound of sniffling caught his attention. "Martin, are you crying?"
"Uh, no!" The tactician responded. "It's just really rainy here, and…oh, hell. It's been a really intense day, alright?" Martin followed this by engulfing the pegasus knight with a bear hug, knocking the wind out of the beleaguered Shione.
"Easy, easy!" Shione called out. "I'm hurt!" Martin let him go, and Shione regained his composure. "Are we done? Because I've got two others waiting on me up there, and a captain who's in serious need of medical attention." This got Maribelle's attention.
Within minutes, thanks to her calm yet intimidating demeanor, Maribelle managed to secure herself a medical tent in which to care for the grievously wounded Captain Phila within minutes. That both Phila and Thaneta, along with one other pegasus knight from the rescue, had survived, albeit with major injuries, was a shock to the other three Shepherds present. When Cainne asked him what had happened between the rescue attempt and the reunion, Shione had merely said they would discuss it later.
"It wasn't very interesting. A lot of avoiding Plegians, mostly. But listen, something came up just before all hell broke loose. Aiden was there."
"Aiden!?" Cainne responded, barely keeping her voice below a shout. "Where? How?"
"I don't know where he got off to. It was a struggle rallying everyone else, and he had already disappeared." Shione replied. "But he said you'd meet again, on his terms."
"Oh, like hell we are!" Martin said. "We're gonna find him, and we're gonna do it soon." It was at this moment that a signal rang out. Everyone was being summoned to the command tent. Chrom and the others had made a decision. "Or, you know, we can find him after this whole war thing is dealt with."
"Tomorrow, we return to the palace." Chrom started off. There were no murmurs or calls of alarm; rather, most of the Shepherds had been in the room, adding their opinions to the discussion when Chrom had decided. "Most likely, it is a trap. But if it is a trap, then I know we will be able to fight through it. More importantly, I will not be a coward like our enemy. I will also not let myself be consumed by vengeance. My sister gave her life for an ideal, that there could be peace between our people. I will not turn my back on any chance, no matter how slight, to see that dream become reality. Thank you all for helping me realize this."
"Milord!" a gruff voice called out. Its owner, the Plegian general Mustafa, approached the prince. "I cannot speak for what the king may be planning. But as far as I am concerned, our orders to maintain a ceasefire are earnest. If you would have us, my men will accompany you to the Plegian capital, to ensure you don't encounter any…unwelcome company."
"And if you're not so foolhardy as to fall for the same thing twice," Flavia stated, "My people will hold onto the Emblem until you return, ensure that it is safe."
"You are, after all, taking my best dancer!" Basilio added with a laugh. "It's only fair we get something in return."
"Thank you," Chrom replied. "But the Emblem is the responsibility of Ylisse. We will care for it, and not even the Mad King will take it from our people. I do not know what Emmeryn thought the Emblem could be used for, but it is a symbol of hope to our people. We will bear it with us, and bring the hopes of our people as well." He turned to the Plegian. "As for you…we have been on opposite sides for a long time. I can't forgive what your nation has done to mine. But I will try to bridge the divide, for her sake. This responsibility falls to me and the Shepherds, we would not see you and your people put in further danger." Mustafa nodded, and backed away.
"All right, enough talk!" Basilio roared. "We're ending this, one way or another. And if Gangrel thinks we'll fall for another trap while we're still licking our wounds, he's got another thing coming!"
"Let him try." Chrom answered. "If it comes to it, I'm ready to dethrone the mad King, once and for all."
In the crowd, Shione turned to Cainne.
"I leave for a few hours, and you've challenged a general to a duel, the Plegians called a ceasefire, the Mad King wants peace talks, and Chrom is about to go charging off to deliver them? We're in way over our heads here. This isn't the history I remember."
"I know." Cainne answered. "Exciting, isn't it?" Shione just nodded.
