Chapter 26

Blood and Sand

"Hey, Walter! Wanna play a game?" Nowi asked Walter excitedly.

"For the eleventh time, NO!" Walter shouted in exasperation. The child was getting on his nerves quickly; Thomas had never been like this!

"Aww," Nowi groaned in disappointment. "Why not?"

"How old are you, Nowi?" Walter asked testily.

"I dunno… a thousand…something?" Nowi responded uncertainly, before breaking out in a huge grin. "But look, no wrinkles!" Walter groaned in irritation.

When Walter had been told that a child was joining them, he'd had concerns. Donnel was arguably too young himself, but somebody even younger!? Then he'd been told that this "child" was in fact a thousand year old dragon in human form. While that idea strained credulity, Walter had opted to believe it. And so, before meeting Nowi, he had expected her to be a child filled with centuries of wisdom. The idea was a little unnerving, but Walter had accepted that.

But no. She was a thousand year old who acted like a twelve year old. And her…spontaneous and…cheerful behavior was quickly grating on Walter's nerves.

"Begone, Nowi," Walter ordered from atop his horse. "I have no time for games, or stories, or jokes, or anything else."

"You're a big old grump," Nowi pouted, before running off. In search of a new victim to torture, Walter had no doubt.

"Yeah, you're a big old grump," Robin chided from his other side. Walter shot the tactician a glare of utmost loathing, and the man laughed raucously at his expense.

"I'm going to tend to Captain Phila," Walter grumbled, pulling his horse about, and away from Robin's continued laughter. At this point Chrom and even Frederick were laughing at his expense, and he swore he heard Lissa snorting as she tried to contain her own laughter.

Three days had passed since they had first tended Phila's wounds. While he was doing that, the Shepherds had run across a sect of Grimleal sorcerers at the oasis, trying to recapture Nowi and sell her into slavery. Gregor had apparently been under contract with them, but broken the contract when he discovered he was (inadvertently) aiding the slave trade. Walter had grown some respect for the man for that, strange as he was. The petty part of him, however, secretly wished that they had failed in rescuing Nowi; the child was a nuisance. Several of the more laid back Shepherds got a long with her, Vaike especially so, but the more serious members couldn't stomach her for more than a few minutes at a time. Walter, it seemed, had an especially low tolerance for her.

His horse pulled up along the supply wagon, and he looked inside. Captain Phila had been "gently persuaded" to ride along in the wagon as opposed to even riding her pegasus on the ground; Walter had insisted that her injuries should not be subjected to the strain of riding, and the wagon cover would keep her out of the sun. After several hours of arguing and a short, one-sided wrestling match between healer and patient when Walter had tried to physically place her in the wagon the morning after they'd first tended her wounds, she had begrudgingly "agreed" to ride the wagon.

Phila glared at Walter as he gazed neutrally into the wagon. "What?" She asked tersely.

"The only thing I bother you for," Walter replied, a slight tinge of amusement to his tone. "Armor and tunic off, please."

Walter felt himself crack a small smile as she began undoing the clasps on her armor (that he had insisted she didn't need to wear, she had insisted otherwise, and Walter had simply given up), cursing all the while. He turned in the saddle in a pretense of privacy as she removed her tunic and applied the breast covering Lissa had fashioned for her to wear during her healing sessions. Walter was mildly annoyed by the need for it; did she really think him so unprofessional, or such a lecher, that he would ogle her feminine assets under a pretense of medical care? It was an insult to his own oaths as a healer, much less common decency! Regardless, it was easier to simply go along with it. At Phila's signal, he dismounted and climbed into the wagon, his horse following faithfully behind.

Walter smiled in relief as he removed the bandages and inspected the wounds. It had only been two days, and there was still much work to be done, but her back looked much better. It was still angry red and scarred, but the red hue was greatly diminished from the initial treatment, and the scarring on the skin was disappearing. He knew Lissa had been applying Ylissean magic to do just that. With luck the scarring would only stay in a couple of the worst areas. He had been half-healing the major wounds into the range he knew the others could reliably heal themselves with Bersian magic, and letting them finish the rest. Not many of those spots remained now. Her chest had been fully healed after the first day; only a small, jagged scar remained of the wound.

"Your back looks much better," Walter told her as he began his work on one of the worse areas. "With luck, the scarring won't be as severe."

"I will wear them with pride," Phila said resolutely. "I sustained these injuries in service to the Exalt, and resisted the poison of an assassin as well. Not many could survive such injuries, yet I remain standing. Or sitting, as it were."

"I agree that you deserve to take pride in such things," Walter mused as he kept healing. "Though, I do hope you will not obtain any more scars like this."

"I would bear a thousand more of them for Lady Emmeryn," Phila responded instantly.

"You are quite loyal to her, aren't you?" Walter asked absently.

"It is my duty as her bodyguard," Phila answered evenly.

"It seems more than that," Walter ventured. "You seem fond, in almost a maternal fashion."

Phila sighed. "The Exalt lost her parents when she was nine years old, Walter," Phila told him gravely. "For most of her life, I'm the only woman the age of her mother that she's had regular contact with, and I never had children myself. I eventually came to care for her as my own…could we change the subject? I worry greatly for the Exalt and my shame at failing her burns brightly, and I wish not to dwell on it."

"I understand," Walter responded. "We will speak nothing further of it."

A few minutes passed in silence as Walter continued his work, before Phila spoke again. "Tell me of your homeland, Bersia was it?"

Walter raised an eyebrow, though Phila couldn't see it. "What do you wish to know?"

"Whatever you wish to speak of," Phila responded vaguely. "What of your family?"

Walter smiled sadly, before speaking. "I had a wife and child once, but no longer. My wife passed from illness seven years ago, and my son went missing…I guess it was thirty years ago now. Though to me, it would only be a month or so." Phila turned around and gave him a curious glance. "Thirty years have passed in Bersia in my absence, but I was at the Altar of Nowart scarcely a month ago."

"What is this Altar of Nowart?" Phila asked. "I've heard rumors regarding your arrival here, but do not put stock in hearsay."

Walter sighed, before imparting the short version of his story that he had told most already. He had burned down Greyhampton, retrieved the Heart, been forced to betray the Patriarch, and fled to Nowart, where he had destroyed the Ancient Heart and summoned Encablossa.

"This all took several months, of course," Walter said as he finished. "I left much of the detail out of it. Those memories are… less than pleasant."

"It seems everyone has things they don't wish to discuss, doesn't it?" Phila asked wryly. Walter grunted in agreement; no one went through war without some unpleasant souvenirs and scars, be it physical or mental. "I pity poor Cordelia, however. Her struggles are so recent, and she struggles to not dwell on them, yet still performs her job so admirably. I worry how long she can keep up this pace, however."

"Cordelia?" Walter asked. "What is wrong with her?"

"She bears the guilt of being the only survivor," Phila answered somberly. "And I know not how to help her. She and I both know I will not be around forever, and Sumia was never formally inducted into the Pegasus Knights before Prince Chrom recruited her for the Shepherds, so that leaves Cordelia with the burden of carrying on our traditions once I am gone."

"You've got at least thirty winters left," Walter argued, "at least if I've anything to say about it."

Phila chuckled. "While I can't argue against your skill with healing magic and the probability of it keeping me alive, thirty years is not a long time when you consider the survival of the Order of Pegasus Knights, especially when those thirty years are being numbered by an unknown assassin."

Walter scowled. "We will find this assassin, Phila," he said, laying his gauntleted hand on her shoulder comfortingly. "You've no need to fear." Chrom had been absolutely irate when he had been informed of the attempted poisoning; Phila was like a mother to Chrom as well. If it was not his own sister's life on the line, he may well have turned the Shepherds about to scour Ylisse for the apothecary who'd handed her the poison. Walter had considered going back himself; he did not like the idea of leaving the assassin be, and he was not unskilled at investigatory work, but Phila's current health remained the priority.

"I fear not for my own life, Walter," Phila clarified, "but for Cordelia's sake. If I'm assassinated, she will have no one to turn to. I know not much of her life, she has always been secretive about it, but she came to Ylisse nearly a year ago, seeking to join the Order. She seemed… lost, and so I reached out to her. She was guarded, at first, but eventually we grew close. She even told me once she viewed me as a second mother." Phila sighed. "I shudder to think how she would take it if I were to die, after losing all of her sisters."

"We will not have to worry about that for quite a while," Walter insisted. "And if such a thing comes to pass, I will watch out for her."

Phila turned and raised an eyebrow at him."You would do that?" she asked hopefully.

"Yes," Walter responded without hesitation. "I am sure I would have to earn her trust, of course, but I can still watch out for her health and welfare regardless."

"I…thank you," Phila said, her tone relieved. "I'm grateful for your consideration."

"Think nothing of it," Walter responded as he finished his healing work. His ears perked up as he heard wingbeats behind them. Fearing Plegian air cavalry had found them, he looked frantically out of the rear of the wagon. He was surprised to see Cordelia flying toward them, coming in fast and low, looking positively horrified. Walter frowned in concern; the Pegasus Knight was practically unflappable in every other scenario Walter had seen her in; what could have her so upset?

"Cordelia?" Walter called as she came within earshot. "What is wrong?"

"Where is Prince Chrom?" She stated frantically. "I have dire news that I must deliver!"

"At the head of the column, as usual," Walter answered. "But why…" Cordelia was already gone, bolting over the rest of the column.

"That was… disconcerting," Phila said worriedly.

"I'm going to see what the problem is," Walter told her. "Perhaps now would be a time for you to wear your armor. If we come under attack, you will need it."

"Agreed," Phila responded as she began buttoning up her tunic again. Walter leapt out of the wagon, quickly mounting his horse and galloping to the head of the column.

He wasn't even there before he heard Chrom shout "He WHAT!?" Walter doubled his pace, and within seconds was at the head of the column.

"General Thorne burned the oasis to the ground," Cordelia said, obviously repeating herself. "There were no survivors."

Walter gaped in shock. He remembered Thorne wanting to destroy that particular oasis, one they had stopped at the previous day, because it was a vital resupply area for the Plegian army to move north to south in this region. He thought he had convinced the man to leave it be…but he was terribly, horribly wrong about that, apparently.

"Gods," Robin gasped in horror. "Nobody survived?"

"No," Cordelia confirmed. "I was delivering our report on troop movements, but when I arrived, they were…they were just executing the last of the villagers, dumping their bodies in the pool, and destroying the well. The oasis is as good as gone, now. At least until someone repairs the well, but in the middle of a war…"

"That's horrible!" Lissa cried. "No, that's beyond horrible! That's…that's… I don't even know a word to describe how awful that is!"

"I told him not to target civilians!" Chrom roared in rage. "I specifically told him to not target non-combatants, and he did it anyway! That is IT! Once I get ahold of him, I'm going to-"

"Milord, please calm down," Frederick pleaded. "Don't do anything rash."

"Rash? Rash!?" Chrom yelled, causing Frederick to wince. "The man just murdered dozens of people, for no good reason! We can't just let him get away with it!"

"We have no choice for now, Prince Chrom," Walter spoke up. Chrom leveled a glare at him that could have vaporized the peak of Mount Levantz, but he held the Prince's gaze. "Turning around to arrest him and reorganize the army under new leadership would irreparably damage our timetable, and we won't get to the Exalt before she's executed." Chrom winced at that. "However, there is something we can do."

"I'm listening," Chrom replied.

"We could warn the Plegian citizens of the Army's arrival," Walter stated. "While it would blow our cover as a 'mercenary band', it would allow the civilians time to flee from the path of General Thorne."

"And risk the Plegian Army becoming aware of our movements?" Frederick argued incredulously. "We can't afford to be attacked by the Plegian army, not with less than twenty men. We have no choice but to allow General Thorne to continue unmolested, as much as the thought turns my stomach."

"No, Frederick," Chrom stated resolutely. "I would rather cut my way through the entire Plegian Army than allow Thorne to kill every Plegian between here and Castle Plegia. We'll do as Walter suggested."

"As you command, milord," Frederick responded in a tone that showed his displeasure.

"He won't get away with this," Chrom growled. "Even Emmeryn won't allow the man to go free after this. Once we get her back, the bastard's going straight to the headsman's axe, I swear it on the blood of those villagers. And I'll be swinging it myself!"

Walter frowned as he swung his horse around and trotted to the back of the column to inform Phila of the events. The young man had never been prone to anger before; the capture of his sister and the strain of the war were clearly taking a toll on the young man. Walter hoped that he wouldn't stay like this once the war was over; nobody his age needed to be that bitter and angry, lest they end up like Gerald.

Walter arrived at the wagon, and imparted unto Phila all he'd learned. Her own expression turned sour. "Damn that bastard," Phila growled. "I always knew he was harsh, but this level of brutality?"

"What do you know of him?" Walter asked. "I worked with him shortly on the plans to deploy the Army, and he seemed possessed of a lust for Plegian blood, but it never appeared to be irrational like this; there was always a military reason for his proposed attacks. What can you tell me of him?"

"Much," Phila responded. "During the latter half of the war I served with him, and dealt with him for fifteen years after the war as Lady Emmeryn's bodyguard while she was in Council meetings. Exalt Bertrand, Chrom's father, deployed the man to the hardest fronts of the First Plegian War; he was a man known for getting results, which is what earned him the title of Grand General. He was severe but fair before those experiences, but afterwards he became harsh and cold." Phila sighed and shook her head. "He's been arguing for a second war with Plegia for years now, since the very first Plegian bandit raid. Duke Themis has likened him to a leashed, rabid wolf, and it's not unfitting…but he never just slaughtered a village for the sake of it. It's not unbelievable… but nor do I want to believe it. We were…close, once," she said, blushing slightly. "He intended to court me, but…well, that didn't work out. He eventually married a different woman, and has a child two years younger than the Prince. But he is a different man now than he once was. Harsh. Cruel. Cold. But, in his own fashion, wants what's best for Ylisse. We have a saying here in Ylisse; 'when all one has is a hammer, everything starts to look like a nail.' I believe this phrase was made specifically for Roark."

Walter nodded in acceptance. It seemed a fair assessment of the man. He'd proposed leveling several villages, sure, but there was always a practical reason for it. From what Walter could tell, at this point he was a wild card at best, and a war crime waiting to happen at worst. He would resolve to keep an eye on the situation.

"Sir Walter," Cordelia's voice came floating from ahead of him. He looked up to see Cordelia approaching casually atop her pegasus from the front end of the caravan. "Milord Chrom wishes to speak with you after dinner tonight."

Walter raised an eyebrow. This was… unexpected. "Did he specify what he wished to speak about?"

"No," Cordelia responded evenly, "but he emphasized its importance. It sounded more an order than a request, truth be told, and I would not ignore it…not with the mood Prince Chrom is in." With that, she turned about and flew away.

Walter frowned as she flew away. The timing of this was certainly strange, and certainly not a coincidence. Suddenly, Walter found himself hoping they would march through the night and not make camp.