Chapter 36

The Mad King's Lament

"This is it, then," Walter said soberly as he dismounted his mare.

"Yes, it is," Phila replied coldly, dismounting her own mare, and a soldier led them away. Her and Walter's horses were not destriers; they were for riding, not for battle. "The Mad King dies today. I will gut him myself, if I see him."

Walter glanced at Phila worriedly. She had woken up that morning in a cold rage. Walter had thought his own fury nothing to scoff at, but he found himself legitimately terrified of her; he never wished to see her like this again, and most certainly not directing this sheer, glacial anger at him. She had spared enough softness to thank him for staying with her, before the iron mask had fallen. Her responses to every sentence uttered to her were short, concise, and underlined in ice. Her expression never shifted from the determined, angry grimace that currently adorned her face.

"The tyrant's reign ends now," Mustafa spat from his side. Where Phila was as frigid as the peak of Mount Levantz, Mustafa's fury burned like dragon fire. Walter could blame neither of them, of course; Phila had said before that she loved Emmeryn as her own, and Mustafa had lost his own wife and child. He just hoped their anger wouldn't distract them from the mission.

"Stay focused, and we shall give the bastard his just desserts," Rickard said, his tone grave. "We need only wait for Prince Chrom to arrive."

And so they waited. They sat atop a hill overlooking Castle Sable; it was a daunting fortress, though it was certainly no Castle Plegia. The fortress was surrounded by the sparse vegetation and rocky outcroppings that Walter had come to associate with the Plegian highlands. Rickard had supplied that these highlands were the primary hunting grounds of the wild wyverns that haunted the mountain range. The lack of abundant wildlife paid testimony to that. That may also have been due to the thousands of Plegian soldiers occupying the space around the fortress.

Walter was disconcerted to learn that, despite Mustafa's mutiny shattering Gangrel's army from nearly a hundred thousand (a number that had turned Walter's blood cold; they almost numbered as high as the Ecclesian Army had!) to a relative handful, he had still amassed fifteen thousand men at arms to fight them. He realized this was likely all of Gangrel's strength in one area, but their own troops barely numbered thirteen thousand. The Ylissean Army had more soldiers overall, yes, but the other divisions, numbering a mere five thousand in each of the three, were scattered across the plains near the mountain range, to hold back any Plegian surprise attacks. If they fell here, those divisions would be all that stood between Gangrel and Ylisse. If Gangrel managed to assert his control over Plegia again, Ylisse would be in grave danger, Feroxi aid or not.

This battle would decide the outcome of the war, and the fate of the continent. Walter looked out, and saw the standard of Gangrel himself at the center of the Plegian Army:

"Here they come!" Flavia shouted cheerfully beside Walter, pointing excitedly to the east. "Finally, we can get this battle underway! I need to kill something!"

True to Flavia's word, Walter saw Chrom, Frederick, and Robin crest the edge of a hill a short distance away, followed shortly by the other Shepherds. Walter noted with some amusement that Frederick bore a banner with the Brand of the Exalt, the banner pole fitted to the back of his breastplate. The Shepherds quickly closed the distance, but Phila grabbed Walter's arm suddenly as Chrom approached.

"Do we tell the Prince?" Phila whispered worriedly, the first emotion besides that glacial fury that had entered her voice all day.

"No," Walter said sadly as the man himself approached. "He cannot afford the distraction now."

"Walter, it's good to see you again!" Chrom shouted, grinning madly as he approached. "How fares the Army, Grand General?" he asked in an almost mocking tone.

"If I had wished to die, I would have simply surrendered at Nowart," Walter replied crossly, though his tone carried a hint of mirth. "I wish to live, Prince Chrom. I beg of you, rescue me from the parchment-consuming monstrosity that you call an Army!"

Chrom and Robin laughed uproariously at this, and Walter adopted a stern frown, though one corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly upward.

"I'm glad to see you're acclimatizing," Chrom said as his laughter died down, though a large grin now adorned his face. "I assume there were no issues?"

"Aside from my own personal views of this Army's practices and procedures, no," Walter answered cheekily. "We are rested and strong, even despite the hundreds of pounds of parchment our beleaguered soldiers have been forced to lug around. We stand ready to charge on your command…provided we do not need to sign more forms in triplicate."

"I get it, you don't like paperwork!" Chrom laughed. "I'm glad to hear that we're ready, at any rate." Chrom turned to look at the others, but his face paled as he beheld the newest addition to the Army's command staff. "General Mustafa," he greeted quietly. "I am… glad to see that you are well."

Mustafa walked up to Chrom, positively towering over the comparatively tiny young man, his expression neutral. Frederick and Robin's eyes each narrowed, and their hands drifted toward their weapons. Before either could draw their weapons, however, Mustafa clamped his arms around the man, squeezing briefly before letting go.

"Water under the bridge, lad," Mustafa muttered quietly, before clapping his hand on Chrom's shoulder. "I understand how you were feeling, and I do not blame you. I might have even done the same in your shoes. My own rage burns now, after what the Mad King has done. What matters is that we are both alive, and ready to end Gangrel's reign. Together."

Chrom smiled, both relieved and touched. "Together," He affirmed. He then turned back to the others. "All of us, together, stand ready to end the threat of King Gangrel. We will not fail!"

"For Ylisse!" Frederick shouted. Seconds later, the Ylissean soldiers behind them echoed the call.

"For Plegia!" Mustafa roared; his own men roared with him.

"For Regna Ferox!" Flavia and Basilio cheered. The Feroxi chanted some war cry in their own language.

"For the entire damned continent!" Robin shouted sarcastically, earning laughs from everyone.

"For peace!" Chrom finished, earning a last roar of approval from everyone. He then drew Falchion, and pointed it toward the remnants of Gangrel's army. "Forward!" he cried, before turning and charging toward the Plegians. A second later, the fifteen thousand strong members of the Allied Army were charging after him. Walter almost chuckled as he heard Flavia's ecstatic laughter carrying over the din.

Walter, Phila, and Rickard hung back, however; their place was not the front line, but to command the Army, much to Walter's consternation. He had commanded hundreds of men before, of course, but never so many that he could not fight alongside them. Robin stayed behind with them, and Walter was thankful; the man was a veritable strategic genius, and much more familiar with this world's military structure. He could see the man's eyebrows furrow in concentration, and he cupped his chin. "May I make a suggestion, General Walter?" Robin asked seriously.

"You can bloody well take command," Walter responded bluntly. "I have always led from the front; sitting at the rear of formations like this has never sat right with me, not as my men die around me."

"Unfortunately, you can't do that," Robin sighed. "I'm not a political man, but even I can see the backlash we would all suffer for you passing off command to an untested stranger…But there's nothing saying we can't move forward with the men."

Walter smiled. "Very well then. Give me your recommendations as we march." With that, Walter drew his weapon and began jogging forward. Still too far from the front lines for his tastes, but that would be remedied soon enough. The rest of the lower-ranked command staff jumped as their General took off, and struggled to keep up.

"Our left flank is looking too loose," Robin rattled off as he followed, drawing his battered old tome from within his coat. "The archers should stop closer to the battlefield, to save time on readjusting their positions." The front lines met the Plegian ranks with an ear splitting crash, even at their distance. "The cavalry needs to disengage, they're getting bogged down."

"Close up the left flank!" Walter shouted. Several captains saluted, and went off to direct their men. "Order the archers as close to the melee as is safely possible, and have them cover the cavalry; they're bogged down, and the enemy wyverns are starting to target them!" Once more, officers saluted, and ran off to carry out his orders. Just like old times, Walter thought wistfully, thinking of his time in the Emissaries.

"And order our mages to focus their fire on the wyvern riders as well," Walter shouted as he noticed the wyvern riders becoming even more aggressive. "They are weak to magic, and need to be removed from the field." With their air support totaling a paltry two Pegasus Knights, they could not afford to let the Plegians have air superiority. "I want this battle to stay on the ground!"

"Right away, General," the Mage captain saluted, before running off.

"There!" Phila shouted as they caught up to their own lines. "Gangrel's banner!" Walter followed her outstretched finger, and growled; there indeed was Gangrel's golden standard. Walter frowned in concern as he noticed a standard with the Brand of the Exalt nearing it, the one Frederick had mounted on his back; Chrom was about to encounter Gangrel.

"To the Prince!" Walter shouted to the men around him. "With haste!" With that, he began pushing himself into the men in front of him. He did not want to leave Chrom to face the Mad King alone.

"I don't think so," a sultry feminine voice called out. A second later, a violent eruption of dark magic blossomed in front of him; Walter cursed as seven men were thrown from the blast zone, screaming in agony. The dark magic then pushed outward, barely missing Walter as he scrambled out of its way. Once the magic stopped, Walter noticed it had seared a small arena of sorts into the soil, nearly fifteen yards across and bordered on all sides by malevolent looking black flames; he could see Robin and Rickard searching desperately for a way past the flames. He turned his gaze upward, to see Gangrel's consort Aversa, mounted atop a pegasus.

Walter frowned as he beheld the creature. Every pegasus he had ever seen had been a pure, glowing white. This one, however, had a coat that almost appeared to be made of tar; slick, almost shining, but so unsettlingly black that it sent shivers up his spine. The creature's eyes were dark red in color, almost the shade of blood, and the beast twitched and jerked erratically; the pegasus was obviously driven to madness. This must be one of the Dark Fliers that Phila had told him of. The creature looked wholly…wrong to Walter. Like looking at a reflection of oneself, but seeing something else entirely looking back at you.

"What have you done to that poor creature!?" Phila cried indignantly next to him. Walter was relieved to see that she had avoided the blast as well. Unfortunately, the blaze had cut them off from the other soldiers; they were alone with Aversa.

"Oh, this beast?" Aversa asked flippantly, before shrugging. "I've had her for a while, she's such a good little pet. She's lasted much longer than the others did, at any rate. What of it?"

"You…you know very well what I mean!" Phila roared. "You have tortured that poor creature, corrupted it!"

"Hardly," Aversa scoffed. "I have simply made her stronger. You and your worthless traditions... you sanctimonious Ylisseans fear true power, and condemn all who refuse to partake in your cowardice. You even shy from utilizing the natural light magic normal pegasi possess! My mount is far more powerful than any other pegasus alive! Perhaps you would like a taste?" she purred. Aversa then gathered magic into her hand, a seething mass of darkness that set Walters hairs on end even from that distance. The pegasus itself began to…well, "glow" wasn't the right word to Walter. There was no light to this creature, not anymore. As the creature whinnied madly, an aura of pure, black energy flared around it, feeding Aversa's spell even further. Within seconds, the orb of energy had gone from the size of a fist to the size of a large melon. Grinning cruelly, she flicked her hand almost lazily, sending the spell careening toward Phila. So distracted was Phila by the pegasus' pitiful, maddened cries that she hardly noticed the spell being fired at her. She began to move too late.

Walter rushed into Phila from the side, however, knocking her clear of the spell. He kept his eyes on her briefly, to ensure she was alright, before he began to turn to block the spell. Walter braced himself as the hairs on his neck stood up; the spell was too close, he knew, and he would not be able to dodge or block. This was going to hurt

Even as he continued to spin, futilely hoping to get his shield up in time, the spell connected with his right arm. An eruption of black flame blossomed into existence from the impact point, and the pressure of the explosion threw Walter bodily into the air. Walter cried out in agony as the black flames scorched his arm, even through the armor, before landing with a painful groan on the ground; his mace skidded away from him. Not that Walter thought he would be able to lift it anyway; his arm screamed at his mind in pain.

"Aw, how sweet of you," Aversa taunted as Walter clutched his burning arm in agony. "Ever the gallant knight, aren't we? I remember watching you so desperately try to save that woman at the Castle; when I'm done toying with you and send you to your false gods, I'll gladly send her your way next. I'm sure you would two lovebirds would enjoy-aargh," she cried in agony as a throwing javelin collided with her left arm, the one holding her spellbook. The tome dropped to the ground once free of its owner's grip, and the pegasus thrashed wildly; the javelin had clipped its wing when it flew past, and the creature now struggled to stay aloft.

"Be careful who you 'toy' with, harlot," Phila snarled, before drawing her regular lance. She shot a worried glance at Walter, keeping one eye on Aversa as the woman cursed and spat, struggling to remove the javelin's head from her arm and stay mounted with the pained flailing of her mount. "Are you alright?" Phila asked worriedly, bending over Walter and looking at his arm nervously.

Walter grimaced in pain, and shook his head. "My arm," he said. "it burns, but not in the same way fire does… it is cold, colder than ice." Walter ripped off his gauntlet, and noticed that his hand, while spared the direct impact of the spell, was already turning a sick purple color from the effects of that spell. "Whatever fell magic this witch uses, it is nothing to be trifled with. I do not think my arm will be useful from here on out." He attempted to flex his hand, but abandoned the attempt as a spike of pain shot through his arm.

"The mouthy whore is disarmed," Phila said reassuringly. "Her mount is injured as well. We need only-" Phila cried out in pain as another spell collided with her shoulder; Aversa had managed to remove the javelin, and glared down at Phila's now-prostrate form in hatred.

"I don't need my tome to kill you," Aversa seethed, clutching her injured shoulder. "And this beast will take more than a simple wound to the wings to fell! I will enjoy watching you both-" Aversa cried out in pain again as Walter struck her with a lightning spell from his shield hand. Walter smirked as the voltage jumped between Aversa and her mount; he had guessed that the witch had somehow made the pegasus survive on dark magic instead of light, and that had lessened the beast's resistance. Walter had not spared any power in that spell; within seconds, the dark pegasus began dropping from the sky, whinnying in abject pain. The beast collided with the dirt with an audible thump, and Aversa was thrown from the saddle, rolling to a stop a few feet away.

Walter frowned as the sorceress struggled to her feet; She was clearly a skilled mage, if she could survive such a spell. Even as her mount lay on the ground, thrashing wildly, she strode over and pulled a finely crafted, short handled silver lance from a holster on the saddle.

"What, you thought that pathetic spell would be the end of me?" Aversa scoffed at Walter's concerned expression, before sparing a dispassionate glance at her mount. "You think I cannot fight unless mounted? You are most certainly wrong on that count."

"You will die all the same, hag," Phila spat, limping up beside Walter. He looked at her in concern; her shield had been discarded and she held the lance in her injured arm tenderly, but she simply nodded once. Walter trusted her judgment.

"We shall see about that," Aversa spat back, before preparing a spell in her injured hand, and launching it at Phila. Walter quickly stepped in front, letting his shield absorb the blow; unlike his armor, his shield had been enchanted by the most skilled bishops in the Ecclesian Church, and resisted all but the strongest spells. The dark energy splashed harmlessly against the surface and dissipated, with no injury to either of them. Aversa narrowed her eyes at the display.

"Stay behind me," Walter muttered quietly so Aversa couldn't hear. "I will defend, you can attack."

"Right," Phila said. With that, Walter began marching forward, shield raised, Phila directly behind him. Aversa began stalking forward herself. When the three were within striking distance of each other, they began circling each other slowly. Walter could hear the encouraging shouts of the soldiers beyond the dark barrier; Aversa turned and glared at them, but it made little difference. He noticed Robin, however, staring at the woman slack jawed, completely out of sorts. He made a mental note to ask him about that later…if they survived.

Aversa made the first move; a swift, deadly jab with her lance, aimed for Walter's injured arm. Walter blocked it with practiced ease, and Phila took the opportunity to jab her own lance in return. The head of the lance skated past Walter's ear at an uncomfortably close distance, but he trusted Phila not to cut him. Aversa cursed at the unexpected counterattack, and just barely managed to duck aside. She then leapt backward and cast another dark spell, which Walter again blocked. Walter advanced forward again, Phila still behind him.

Aversa quickly found herself on the defensive. Walter advanced relentlessly, stopping only long enough to parry or block her attacks. Whenever they were in range, which was quite often with Walter's aggressive pace, Phila would stab at the witch in a flurry of precise strikes; it took Aversa no small amount of skill and luck to avoid them all. Aversa attempted to counterattack, but this was not like facing one opponent with a shield and lance; even as Walter blocked, Phila was able to retaliate, whereas a single soldier would have to pick between one and the other. Even so, Walter found himself taxed; Aversa was quite proficient with that lance of hers, and tended to launch her spells wherever and whenever Walter was least prepared to block them. Phila's labored breathing in his ear told him she was tiring as well, doubtlessly because of the effort it must have taken to thrust her lance with a burnt arm.

Walter's eyes narrowed as he spotted an opening; After one hasty attempt at a dodge from Phila's strikes, Aversa had become just slightly off-balance. Walter surged forward, surprising even Phila, and swung his shield in a backhand. Stunned by the sudden aggression, Aversa did not move in time, and received the full force of the blow on her jaw. Walter's shield rang clearly as it connected, and Aversa stumbled. He then released a fireball at her point blank, and it struck the sorceress in the chest. Aversa screamed in agony as the spell blew her backwards, and she tumbled ungracefully past her still writhing mount.

"Prepare to face the Lord's judgment!" Walter barked as he and Phila strode brazenly toward the groaning sorceress.

"I bow to one god alone, and that is Master Grima," Aversa snarled weakly as they drew near.

"You will see which of us has the right of it shortly, I suppose," Walter said coldly as they stood over the witch, and Phila raised her lance.

Before Phila could strike, however, a thunderous cheer sounded from nearby. Walter looked toward the source of the noise…that is where Chrom would have confronted Gangrel! Walter thought worriedly. Had Chrom bested the Mad King…or had the opposite happened?

"It appears sad little Gangrel has sung his last lament," Aversa chuckled faintly from the ground.

Walter's brow furrowed his confusion as he looked back down upon Aversa. "You appear to have little faith in your King, concubine."

Aversa just laughed amusedly, furrowing Walter's brow further. "His death was foretold. Gangrel's death is but the first of many that will lead to the end of mankind," she said ominously. "All but the most faithful will be purged from the earth. Prepare yourselves, Ylisseans; your time will come soon." Even as Phila drew back again in preparation to silence her, there was a blinding flash. When Walter's vision cleared, naught remained of Aversa but the faintest traces of runes; she had teleported to safety.

"Insane hag," Walter dismissed shortly thereafter, before surveying the battlefield. He smiled as he saw the Plegian soldiers around them surrendering en masse; Chrom had indeed slain the Mad King.

"It's over," Phila said almost disbelievingly as she witnessed the same thing Walter was. "We won."

"Yes, we have," Walter affirmed. What he was going to say next, however, was cut off by a frantic whinny. Aversa's perverted mount yet lived, thrashing wildly about the earth. "What should we do about that pegasus?" Walter asked soberly.

"It…it would be best to put it down," Phila remarked sadly. "None have ever succeeded in reverting a pegasus from this state, especially one so far gone. The poor creature is beyond our help."

Walter frowned as he looked at the pegasus. The beast continued to thrash madly, apparently panicking that it had been left behind by its mistress. Despite the effects of Walter's spell wearing off long ago, it had still failed to regain its footing; it was truly a pitiful sight. But something about it…compelled Walter.

"No," Walter said resolutely. Phila looked at him curiously. "I will heal this poor beast."

"Walter," Phila rebutted sadly, "There is nothing to be done. That witch has so far befouled this pegasus' body that it is beyond recovery, to say nothing of its mind and soul. You will only prolong its torment."

"I will not doom this creature," Walter said stubbornly. "I look at this creature, and I almost…see myself in it. I have told nobody of this, but I had nearly fallen to the Ancient Heart myself." Phila looked at him, surprised at the admission. "The artifact was strong, and with the burden my crimes had placed on my soul, I had begun to buckle beneath the strain. Toward the end I…I was possessed of dark, murderous thoughts," he admitted. "The Heart was…alive, in a manner of speaking. It implored me to slay all around me, to seize its power, to rule all of Bersia. It filled my head with images of blood and death, power and glory, pleasure and comfort, anything it thought it could use to tempt me. At first, I could resist, but as the days wore on, my resolve began to crack." He shook his head. "It was Justino that saved me. He begged of me to part from the Heart, to pass it to another even for a day. But I could not; I did not wish to risk the lives of my men, and then possessiveness overcame me. We…fought," Walter sighed miserably. "I had nearly killed him before I came to my senses. At that point, I begged of Justino to free me from it. I sent him ahead to the Altar, while I delayed our pursuers in Brimstone Forest. He took the Heart with him. When I met him at the Altar, he was so…drained, despite only having a day's lead. We did not need to speak of it; I knew his burden, his pain, and he then understood mine. He gave it back to me as soon as he could."

"I had no idea," Phila said quietly after Walter was silent for a moment. "You always seem so…resolute. Strong willed. It beggars belief that your will could crumble so quickly, and from what you say of Justino, he was equally strong. Was this Ancient Heart truly so terrible?"

"Beyond description," Walter affirmed as he continued to observe the beast's maddened flailing. "It is an artifact of the Devil, its power has altered the course of Bersia's history more than once before. It turned my stomach to take possession of it again when I arrived at the Altar, and it pressed against my mind during the entire battle. But as I see this poor creature thrashing before us, I see myself, floundering beneath the crushing influence of the Heart. I cannot stand by in good conscience and doom this beast to death, not when others suffered and died to save my own life, my own mind. Not when the Exalt and Prince Chrom took me in and gave me a chance, even after learning my past. King Gerald, and many others I'm sure, would say the same things about me that you say about this pegasus, yet here I am, hopefully a better man than I once was. I am not sure I can succeed in curing this beast's condition, but I could not live with myself if I did not try. If I do succeed, I will care for it. You say that pegasi revile men, but even if it does accept me, I will do my best to ensure it remains alive and healthy."

Phila was silent for a long time, watching pitiably as the pegasus' thrashing began to die down, its exhaustion overcoming it. "I will help you," Phila said resolutely.

Walter turned to Phila curiously. "You will?" He asked, surprised. He had not expected her help, or even understanding. Walter himself had poor expectations for the result.

"Yes," Phila replied confidently as the beast finally passed out from its exhaustion. "Few know more about pegasi than I do, you will need my help. You are right; it is wrong to so casually sentence this poor creature to death. We must try, at the least."

Walter broke out in a genuine smile, one wider than most that he'd smiled since coming to Ylisse. "Thank you, Phila," he said softly, before turning to the soldiers around them. "Bind up this beast, and prepare it for transport!" He barked. With Aversa gone, her barrier of dark flames had died away, allowing the soldiers access to the battleground. Several of the men shot hesitant looks towards the General, but ultimately their discipline kicked in and they moved to obey his orders.

"Come, let us find the Prince and congratulate him on his victory," Walter told Phila.

Phila nodded in response, and they began walking toward the cheering soldiers ahead. "Walter," she said suddenly.

"Yes, Phila?" Walter responded.

"You are a better man than you once were," Phila told him with a smile. "You've no need to doubt that."

Walter said nothing in response; he simply smiled as they broke through the crowd, reuniting with the rest of the Shepherds, who were all cheering for their victory against the Mad King. Gangrel's reign of terror had finally come to an end.