A/N: I say you won't have to wait as long for next chapter and I make you wait even longer *sweatdrops* Sorry. Writer's block slammed me; though I have the rebellion planned out, actually writing the scenes for it gave me a lot of difficulty. Doesn't help that someone (you know who you are :P) got me into Overwatch and that game is really addicting.
The Zubatman: Well, it seemed to work for Nah. Of course, on the other hand, we don't know if it'd work forever, or if Corrin will even think of giving in to those sorts of urges.
Nitewind: Oh no, you're definitely right about that: Anankos's dragonstone didn't work because he was too strong. Corrin and Lilith just don't know that, which is why they're worried.
With a sigh, Lilith sets aside the book and reaches for another. Outside, the air is still and windless, and if she looked out the window she'd see the steep descent of Mount Sagesse. The Sevenfold Sanctum and the Rainbow Sage's house have become historical preservations in two years since his death, and it had taken every bit of royal clout her brother had to get Notre Sagesse's rulers, King Florian and Queen Nadine, to agree to let her into its library, under the stipend that she was to leave all books in his house. She was also warned that if any of them were damaged in any way, Corrin's grandchildren would be paying them off. It wasn't necessary, the Rainbow Sage had used a combination of magic and frequent bookcare to keep his library in good condition, but Notre Sagesse was rather protective of its knowledge.
Unfortunately, it seems the Rainbow Sage kept a decided lack of notes on dragons and dragon physiology, Lilith muses, flipping idly through the pages. Even humans had notes about their biology for medical studies. But perhaps dragons simply didn't get sick, and so didn't need such things. She can't recall being ill, ever, but there's no way to know for sure.
She isn't here alone—Corrin had sent a small contingent of scholars with her, and they're hastily scribbling words down as fast as they can read them, even on matters unrelated to dragons. The Rainbow Sage's library is massive, a veritable treasure trove of history. It even has information about Valla, its culture and origins, which they'd thought lost when Anankos had burned down the Vallite royal library.
The next book she's taken appears to be one of the Rainbow Sage's diaries. Its age is apparent in the use of parchment instead of paper, and the cover is unassuming, plain brown leather. Her eyes trace idly over the words on the first page, already resigned to finding it as unhelpful as the rest. —tried my best, but the dragonstones I've helped him create—
She's turning the page when what she read finally clicks into place. The dragon's golden eyes snap back to the sentence. Lilith picks the book up and holds it closer, her nose almost touching the parchment, rapidly re-reading the entire page.
We are the last now, Anankos and I. The few of our kind who hadn't yet ascended did so two decades ago, when the war ended. Anankos stayed because he simply couldn't discard his attachment to Valla, and I stayed to try and help him. I've tried my best, but the dragonstones I've helped him create are insufficient. The first shattered after only a decade; the second, half that; the third, in just a year. His power is simply too great for them to store, and that worries me; he was one of the most powerful of us, and should his sanity deteriorate, I fear what would happen to the humans.
"Father…" Lilith whispers, throat clogging. She knows the story of her father's fall, of course, but to read the words of someone who knew him, a first-hand account of the events, is a poignant thing. Another part of her mind worries at one small detail—how long did dragons really live, for a decade to be considered something short? She hurriedly goes on to the next passage; it's impossible to tell how much time has passed, as the Rainbow Sage doesn't date his entries, time apparently being beyond dragons.
Anankos has given up on the dragonstone plan. He used the shards of the last to make a pendant for the Rheos royal family. Rather than trying to hold back his power, he intends to hold back his madness; he wrote a prophetic song, hoping that in combination with some magic and the dragonstone, the Rheoses will be able to soothe him with it. King Cadros has been friends with Anankos since he helped him forge Valla decades ago, and he easily agreed to the task. I attended the first ceremony, and it's promising; the king's voice was beautifully loud and clear, and Anankos looked more at peace than I've seen him be in a long time…
She keeps reading, passing by accounts of war and famine and plague and peace. Nothing else of interest comes up again until the diary is almost over:
He's utterly distraught. The Rheoses have been dying from the song, one by one, and the people are starting to hate him for it. Worse, Anankos is asking me to forge a weapon to kill him with. "A golden blade, on par with—no, greater than—the sacred weapons you crafted for Hoshido and Nohr," was all he said, eyes gazing at something unseen. One of his Silent Dragon visions, probably. "That's what must kill me, should the worst come to pass. That's the only thing that could kill me." I've tried to protest it; I'm tired of making weapons of war, and I don't want to lose the only friend I have left. The humans here, they are nice enough, but they die so fast. But Anankos is adamant…
The sword has been forged, and Anankos has left it in Hoshido—he's afraid if he keeps it in Valla he'll destroy it in a moment of madness. Now he's told me he wants me to craft one last dragonstone. Not for him, but for someone else in the future. He wouldn't say who, but I can suspect. There are no dragons left; but a half-dragon? Most of our kind sneered down at unions with humans, but there have been some before. Some would say they get the worst of both worlds, the lifespan of humans and the primal instincts of dragons. Many of them died young, abhorred as abominations by both worlds and unable to control themselves, too emotional in a way our kind are not. Why did we never think to offer them dragonstones before? They're weaker than us, it would probably help control their powers perfectly…
She starts when she reaches the final page, eyebrows climbing up her face.
To whomever is reading this: I may not have Anankos's precognition, but I suspect someone, likely whatever half-dragon he sees, will be needing help in the future, and may eventually come here. As far-sighted as he is, my friend sometimes tends to overlook possibilities he doesn't see, such as the dragonstone breaking or being lost. To you, I leave the secrets of my crafting, should you need another. A bit of dragon's blood is all you need to craft one, and even diluted, it should work…
"Yes," she whispers, unable to stop herself from grinning broadly. "Yes!" One hand pulls out a clean sheet of paper and quill from her apron pocket. Dipping it in the inkpot nearby, Lilith begins to copy the notes on the creation of dragonstones and the biology of half-dragons.
Corrin is in his study, head in hands as his bleary eyes study the paper before him. It's a report from the Nohrian town of Belvoir—yesterday evening the mining facility there was overthrown. He doesn't need to be a seer to know the rebellion is starting. They mean to take away our weapons so we can't fight, there'll be more attacks at other facilities…I'll have to send more soldiers to each… will they try for food next?
"Corrin?" Azura knocks gently on the doorframe, and he glances up. She gives him a sympathetic smile. "The guards are reporting that someone's here to see you."
"Is this important?" he rasps, rubbing at his eyes. It's late in the evening and he's exhausted, but he can't go to sleep, not yet. Not until he figures out what to do about this.
"It involves your father figure, so yes, I'd say so."
He shoots out of his chair, tiredness gone. "He came back?"
"Not quite. According to the sentries, he has information about the rebellion for you."
"A bit late on that," he mutters with a wry glance at the papers. "But of course I'll see him. Can you—"
She's already moving to his abandoned chair. "I'll finish these up, don't worry."
Corrin thanks her with a kiss on the cheek, and leaves to prepare a room to receive Gunter in. He also calls for Nestor. The Vallite still has difficulty looking at him, and he tries not to wonder whether he'll find a knife in his back someday. Thinking like that is what turns decent people into paranoiacs. So he tries to show that he still trusts him, hoping that maybe it'll soothe whatever private worries he has.
The guards are firm but not rough as they bring their escort before the king. Sentries had easily spotted him coming in, and upon recognizing the black armor, the sigil on his shield, sent word to their monarch. Guards line the room, and Gunter's weapons are taken from him before he's escorted in.
As much as Corrin trusts his old mentor—even still—he can acknowledge the need for security. If he were to die now, Valla would be torn apart by civil war.
"There's no need to kneel," he interrupts as Gunter tries to do just that.
He rises, slowly. "If you say so, my lord." An uncomfortable pause. Corrin's eyes rake over him. He looks well, uninjured and healthy. That's good—he'd privately worried about whether he'd be able to take care of himself. Or if he'd even want to.
After it's stretched out too long, Corrin says, "Azura and I got your present." It had been a lovely wooden jewelry box, more for Azura than for Corrin, but he'd instantly recognized it; Gunter had carried it around, one of his last mementos of his late wife. Both the gesture and the knowledge that his father figure had been to his wedding had touched him deeply, and meant far more than any present. "You didn't have to give something that sentimental."
"It'll find more use at a queen's bedside than in my rucksack." Gunter sighs and shakes his head, a stern glare Corrin's familiar with crossing his face—it's the one he always used to use when his pupils acted up at the Fortress and he wanted them to sit down and listen. "Your Majesty, you know this is no pleasure visit."
"I do," he acknowledges. "But I'm still happy to see you again."
The knight snorts. "You may feel differently when you hear the news I brought."
And then Corrin listens to the news he brings, indeed feeling the joy drain away, replaced with firm grit and resignation. It's very helpful, of course it is, knowing for sure who he can count on to side with Lord Jiro, but it hurts. It hurts hearing the list of people who want him gone, who think he can't rule, who want him dead. And of course he's worried for Haru.
When Gunter is done speaking, Corrin takes a seat and steeples his fingers, bowing his head over them. He wanted to be done with war once Anankos was dead, and it's being thrust upon him again. It's scary in a way much worse than when he commanded an army, because he isn't just holding the lives of soldiers, men and women who knew what they were signing up for; he's holding the lives of an entire nation, elderly and children and everyone in between, most of whom just want to live in peace.
"Can we trust him?" Nestor asks. He's never quite been comfortable around Corrin after what he'd learned of him, but the man is still unshakingly loyal to Valla, and the country remains his first and foremost concern. "By all accounts, Your Majesty, this man is a traitor who tried to kill you."
"I'd trust him with my life," is Corrin's firm response. The knight snorts. "Yes, and that turned out fine for you in Valla."
The half-dragon smiles. "I'm alive, aren't I? So I would say thing turned out fine, yes."
"Optimistic as ever." It's half-admiring, half-reproachful. Gunter brushes imaginary lint off his travelling cloak. "In any case, I've informed you about these rebels. I'll take my leave now."
"Gunter," Corrin starts, rising from his seat. "Stay."
"Your Majesty, you know why I can't—"
"I know why you won't let yourself stay," the half-dragon interrupts. "And I'll respect that. I'm not asking you to stay forever. Just to help me through this. I'll need all the allies I can find, and you suppressed many rebellions under King Garon's rule; you have experience in this field. I'd appreciate your expertise."
Gunter flinches at the reminder of his past misdeeds, and the king winces; perhaps he should have worded that more carefully. Then he scoffs and shakes his head. "Rather underhanded of you, my lord. Appealing to what's left of an old knight's tattered sense of duty to reel him back in…"
"I didn't mean it like—"
"You didn't intend it, but it came out that way all the same." The old knight sighs. "But you're right, my lord. I can't turn my back on this, so I'll stay for now."
Corrin's face brightens. He wasn't lying when he said he'd respect Gunter's wish to leave, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to spend time with him. A small part of him even hopes that maybe spending time in Castle Avalon, helping with this task, will soothe his guilt somewhat, and make him change his mind. "Excellent. I'll have a servant show you to a room, you must be tired…"
"I appreciate it. Tomorrow morning assemble a war meeting so we can discuss the situation further; there's also advice I can impart unto you…"
"The Akiyamas are a strong, well-respected clan," Corrin said, tapping a finger against the parchment showing their clan seal. "We'll need their support if we want to suppress this rebellion. Currently, Lord Jiro is using the head's son Haru as leverage for their allegiance. That means rescuing Haru is a top priority—though I would have done it anyway."
"If we fail, Lord Jiro and his allies will likely use it as an excuse to point at the king's incompetence," Gunter interjected, one gauntleted hand tapping away at the tabletop. "They've already begun revolting in areas, so it's vital that we get the rescue right on the first try, for there will be no seconds."
The king nodded tensely before resuming, eyes meeting each person when he addressed them. "Lilith is off in Notre Sagesse to find information about dragons; she's sent word she'll be back at the end of the week. Azura and I will be handling relations with the nobles we know are siding with Lord Jiro, see if we can sway them. Mozu, you're in charge of stockpiling food; depending on what they target, we may find a shortage on our hands. Silas, send soldiers to strengthen the garrisons of our mining and food resources, they'll probably attack them to weaken us. Felicia, you're good with gossip and your betrothed is in charge of intelligence; use the grapevine to worm out anything you can about the rebels. You're also in charge of Kaze's duties for a while, until he's done with what I'm about to assign him ."
They all nodded at their given tasks. Corrin turned to Kaze. "Kaze, I'm entrusting you with leading the rescue mission to save Haru. Gunter will fill you in on the security and layout of the estate; take whatever men and resources you think you need and be gone tomorrow morning."
The ninja bowed, one arm bent across his chest. "It will be done, my liege."
His fists tighten in memory. I will not fail you again.
That was what he'd vowed, as he stared at the king's dead body in Cheve years ago. I will not fail again. He has only recently forgiven himself for his mistakes there. Being freed of guilt after carrying it for fourteen years, more than half his life, has been a strange sensation. He has no desire to ever pick up the chains again.
More than that, he feels personally responsible for Haru being in the situation he is. He'd failed to notice that the recent letters were forged, too distracted by the possibilities of an insurrection to look closer at an assurance that one noble was not going to rebel. Perhaps if he were better at his job, they could have quashed this months ago.
Felicia would have chided him for thinking that way, he thinks with a small, wry smile. She never likes it when he engages in self-deprecation. His betrothed had made it perfectly clear to him that he was to return alive from the mission, teary eyes threatening waterworks if he didn't. He couldn't promise he would—and she knew it, she was as much a soldier as him—but he had promised to not take any unnecessary risks.
Now, he and a group of some twelve others crouch outside the estate, watching the guards patrol the walls. Gunter had drawn a map of it, from his brief time inside, and they'd all studied it carefully, memorizing everything depicted. They know the dungeon is near the guardhouse, behind the main building. They also know it is near the south wall, only a short dash away, and while the wall is twenty feet high and frequently patrolled, other areas are not so protected.
With a few hand motions, Kaze signals his men to begin to move, scaling the walls and disappearing into the nooks and crannies on the other side. There will be no speaking until they've extracted Haru and themselves from the estate. All communication will be done through hand signals and body language.
Despite what intelligence Gunter gave them, there were some things he simply could not provide—they don't know when the guards are scheduled to change, for example. So there can be no incapacitation, at least not until they reach Haru. Missing guards might be noicted right away and alarm sounded. They will be relying solely on stealth.
They move slowly across the estate, keeping to the walls. The plan is to move alongside it, counter-clockwise from their starting position in the north, until they reach the prison building. A direct route across the yard would be faster, but with the moon hanging bright and full in the sky, it's also considerably riskier. Here, in the shadows of the walls, they can hide.
In a stroke of good luck, the guard on duty at the prison is the same one Gunter told them about, lazy and half-asleep. He's halfway through a yawn when Kaze flash steps behind him. One arm goes around his mouth, muffling his yell, while a dagger slices through his neck. Ruby drops of blood splatter the ground at the guard's feet, and his struggling form stills. Kaze drops his body and, with three as backup, darts inside the building—the rest of the ninja stay outside as watch.
It's dark, but moonlight shines through the bars of the windows. Haru is in the last cell, dozing. Ninja instincts jerk him awake at their soundless approach, and he immediately grasps what's happening. He keeps silent, eyes glittering in the dark, as Kaze crouches and cracks the lock.
The door swings open. The sole healer they brought, an onmyoji named Ayame, raises her festal. The inside of the dungeon is briefly illuminated by green light, and the scent of flowers fills Kaze's nostrils. Haru's eyes slide shut in relief as the bruises and blood on his face and body close.
Once he's healed, Kaze extends a hand. The other man stumbles when he tries to stand; his hair and clothes are ragged and filthy, his cheeks gaunt. They both still when the sound of an owl's hoot echoes through the night—the signal from the ninja outside that someone is approaching. Kaze's eyes are training about for a backup escape route when the owl hoots again, thrice this time; threat neutralized.
When he cautiously steps over the threshold, there's a freshly dead body at his feet. Perhaps an unfortunately patrolling soldier, perhaps a guard going to the privy. He'll never know. But if they aren't out by the time the soldier's absence is noted, they'll have a fight on their hands. Going as fast as they dare, they begin retracing their steps.
They have almost made it out, and Kaze is starting to think everything's going too well, when the loud ringing of a brass bell shatters the silence of the night, and the tramping of feet on grass reaches their ears. Kaze shifts his grip on Haru so that one arm is freed, moving towards his shuriken.
Unlike the one lazy guard on duty, the lancers who charge them are sharp-eyed and filled with vigor. The moonlight glances off the blades of their naginatas. Resolute, the soldiers with Kaze move forward for the contingency plan—hold off all attackers long enough for him to escape with the target.
The clashing of steel on steel rings out as the two forces meet. Disengaging from the fight, Kaze ducks beneath arrows and spells as he makes his way to the walls. Behind him, Haru's breath is coming in harsh, ragged gasps as he tries to keep up. They're relying almost entirely on their comrades keeping the attention off them, and it only works for so long before four soldiers notice and rush them.
Haru taps Kaze on the shoulder, his fingers moving rapidly in familiar Hoshidan code. Leave me.
The green-haired ninja shakes his head, firmly and shortly. An exasperated look crosses the other man's face, but soldiers are rushing towards them; there's no time for further argument. Fingers tap again, clumsy in haste. Give me a weapon.
It's a bad idea. Haru's in no condition to fight; even with the recent injuries patched up, he's still malnourished and weak from months of imprisonment. But he deserves a chance to at least defend himself, so Kaze slips him a dagger. Then he sinks into a battle stance, eyes calculating, calculating…
His fingers flick out a shuriken with expert practice, lodging it in one's unexposed throat. The man falls; then the other three are upon them. Kaze has to let go of Haru to weave and dodge; in such close quarters, with an injured comrade nearby, he can't risk throwing shuriken, so he can only nick at them. The poison on the edges of his weapons will wear them down, but it'll take time, time they don't have. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Haru trying to fight off a swordmaster with just the dagger, barely able to deflect his blows.
Kaze spins, risking a thrown shuriken at the swordmaster. It tears open his leg, pushing him off-guard long enough for Haru's dagger to stab deep in his belly. What happens after that, Kaze doesn't see, as white-hot pain rips down his back.
They start backwards as a fiery horse charges inches away, ramming into the guards and sending them flying. It circles around their bodies with a ghostly whiny before disappearing. Kaze shoots a grateful glance at Ayame; she sets aside her glowing scroll and reaches for her festal, channeling magic through it into the gash on his side. He sighs in relief as it stitches shut. It's the last thing the young woman ever does, because a javelin arcs through the air and pierces her chest seconds later. With a bloody gurgle, she falls, festal slipping out of her fingers.
Kaze turns away, sparing a moment to mentally say a prayer for her. But her life has bought them a reprieve; the javelin-thrower is either dead or doesn't see them, because he or she doesn't appear to take back their weapon or pursue them. His purple eyes glance at Haru as he pulls out two pairs of metallic climbing claws, shuko, they're called. Can you climb?
Got no choice, do I? Haru's dryness is visible even through code. Setting his jaw, the black-haired man steps away from Kaze and straps his set on. He shakily starts to climb the walls, the other trailing behind. It's nerve-wrackingly slow; Kaze could normally be over this in a few seconds, but he has to stay with Haru in case his strength fails and he starts to slip. He is very much aware they're relying solely on the darkness and the battle to camouflage them.
The whistling is the only warning Kaze gets, and he jerks hard to the left. Half a second later, an arrow slams into the spot his shoulder had been, embedded deeply in the wall. With a frustrated growl Kaze twists, spots the archer crouching on an opposite rooftop, and throws a shuriken in her general direction. It doesn't hit, but it startles her enough that she slips. She falls backwards, her shriek cut off short by impact with the ground.
Flipping back around, Kaze notes that Haru's reached the top, and rapidly scales the rest of the wall in seconds. He keeps low to avoid alerting any snipers to his position and drops to the ground on the other side with a grunt, landing cat-like on his feet. Around him a few others are helping Haru down.
This is all? He signs to one.
The rest are inside, buying us time.
One of the first tasks all ninja trainees had was to train a puppy. For one year it was an affectionate, loving animal, following them everywhere and assisting them in various situations. Then, at the end of the year, they had to slit its throat or else forfeit the training. It was a lesson to never become so attached to something that you weren't willing to leave them to die, or even kill them yourself, if duty called for it.
Saizo had had an easier time of it than Kaze, and still did. But he too had eventually worked up the nerve to kill his dog and pass the test. He would never forget the faces of those comrades he lost, but he would never jeopardize the mission to save them either. So he only nods stoically at this news, mentally preparing himself to write the letters to their families.
Elixirs are distributed, everyone taking only a single sip, enough to seal the worst wounds. Then they're on their feet again. There's no time to rest; it won't be long before Lord Jiro's soldiers set up a perimeter search for any stragglers, and they need to be gone before then. There are fliers waiting at the rendezvous point, a mile away; wyverns, since pegasi are strictly diurnal. Enough to escape, but not enough to fight, should the worst come.
Of the original thirteen men and women who went to rescue Akiyama Haru, only a little less than half made it out. Four were killed in battle, two were captured, and two more died of their wounds on the road home.
A/N: Long-time fans of Fire Emblem may notice some similarities between the half-dragons and the Branded, and I did pull from Tellius lore a bit (specifically the parts about being outcast by both "races" and getting screwed inheritance-wise) when making them. As for why I gave them a human lifespan instead of a dragon or manakete one? That's based entirely off Corrin aging normally. He looked twenty by the time he was twenty, whereas manaketes and half-manaketes age slower. There's…really nothing else. Fire Emblem really tends to sort of hem and haw about how half-dragons/half-manaketes/dragons aging works.
Tl;dr—Fire Emblem doesn't offer much information, and this is happier than him outliving everyone he loves, so it's the route I'm going.
Anyway, that's my first time writing any sort of extended action sequence. Let me know if any of it seemed too clunky, if it was too hard to follow, etc.