Disclaimer: I only own OCs, of which there won't be many.
Michalis sat mutely in the unassuming house. A cold wind tossed his hair somewhat, and his nose wrinkled in slight offense to the setting he was in. There was nothing particularly… wrong, with the building, it just stood in stark contrast to what he had grown accustomed to.
Placing a finger on the table in front of him, he swiped a small line through the dust that clung to it. From the status the house was in, it might as well have been abandoned. Yet there was someone who did live here.
Gotoh, the occupant, stood nearby. His eyes were closed… Michalis had never seen them open, as if the White Sage was always meditating. His visits were frequent, Gotoh was nearly an advisor to him. Michalis came to him again today, and the visit, both knew plainly well, could possibly be the last.
Michalis knew that Orridyon was dead. When news that his trusted knight and bodyguard was dead had reached him, Michalis reaction had simply been to shake his head, as if the knight's death meant as much to him as dirtying clean boots with mud. He had simply turned pragmatically to his duties.
"Your thoughts betray you, Michalis." Gotoh said after a long silence. Michalis snapped his attention back to Gotoh. The White Sage's ability to outright know what Michalis was thinking at any moment did much to disconcert the normally unshakable King. Gotoh turned to Michalis and waved his hand, all the dust on the table lifted and fluttered away. Michalis breathed calmly, not fearing any dust coming toward him and choking him.
Despite Gotoh's eyes being shut, Michalis sensed that the man saw easily what was before him. Perhaps even saw straight through those he looked at. "Your think of your sisters, members of the army that will be here, today, to take your life."
Michalis' face hardened, for the first time since the death of his father, stress was clearly visible on his face. "Minerva has made her choice to oppose me. I understand what has to happen. I have to fight them."
"One sister… you worry about, more."
Michalis clenched one hand into a fist. "Maria… she shouldn't be on the battlefield. I'd rather she never be on one, but she certainly has no business being on one at her age. And she's so headstrong… Minerva should have stopped her, but she has never learned to say 'no' to Maria."
Gotoh stood with a face that looked almost apathetic. "Perhaps, you should listen to your sisters, and their belief as to Macedon's direction."
Michalis sighed. This discussion again. "I have made my decision to ally myself with Dolhr. I've already passed the point of no return. I could not ally with the League now if I desired to… and the League is not as noble as the breadth of the continent is trying to paint them as."
Gotoh quirked an eyebrow. "What leads you to believe that?"
"The League is fighting out of vengeance. They're bitter vindicators who think only in terms of who should be killed and who shouldn't. If they think of themselves as pure good and their enemies as pure evil, I imagine them to be more destructive and irrational then even Medeus. The last thing this continent needs is such a powerful group subscribing to such needlessly absolute views of good and evil."
"You say that now, Michalis, but I wonder…" Gotoh approached the still sitting King. Michalis grew apprehensive, but continued to sit as Gotoh continued. The White Sage reached a hand out and placed the wrinkled thing on Michalis' forehead. "I am capable of something that no other still living being can do. I can see the strands of fate, the threads of a man's destiny. Everything about a person, past, present, and…"
Gotoh's hand started to glow a dark blue color. "I can see your future, Michalis, and the Manaketes won't always be your allies. I see only…" His voice trailed off and his eyebrows quirked, whatever he was seeing in Michalis' fate, it triggered confusion in his face.
"What do you see?" Michalis asked, not able to entirely keep emotion out of his voice. The ability to see the future is something anyone would desire, and the chance to even have a glimpse of it was…
"Your youngest sister…" Gotoh said slowly, "Will save you from death, and guide you to an alliance with the Altean prince."
Michalis blinked as the glow ended and Gotoh lowered his hand. "I find that unlikely. I do not think her incapable, but… save me and lead me to ally myself with the League? No single person could do that."
Gotoh crossed his arms. "You underestimate your kin."
"No." Michalis shook his head. "I understand their capabilities quite well. Neither of them could be called weak or incompetent, they are both capable. Yet, neither Maria or Minerva is capable of what you just described."
There was the slightest twitch to Gotoh's face. Michalis wasn't sure what it meant, but he suspected that Gotoh had been irked. "Tread lightly, Michalis. It is destiny itself you are trying to face. Those who fight the current will be dragged to their proper place by the waves."
"I will… keep that in mind, White Sage." Michalis rose from his chair, and took a moment to examine the room he was in. A Dining Room perhaps, or maybe a Living Room. It felt inadequately small, even the smallest champers in the Castle were bigger then the entire building. As he looked at it, he knew just how… well, it would hold up if it was attacked. "White Sage Gotoh, would you move someplace else for the duration of today's battle? You are not safe here."
Gotoh didn't make much movement at the suggestion. "Why not rather end this folly, Michalis?"
Michalis turned to him. "What folly?" The question was honest, but it sounded slightly defensive in his own ears.
"Your power as King is absolute, the people's fondness for you is honest, the military has never seemed stronger. At first glance, you are the ideal king. However…" Gotoh turned to look out the window toward the Macedon Castle. "Everything is so frigidly built. Everything came from your folly, your own lust for power and the throne. Macedon has gone down the wrong path ever since you plunged that knife into your father's heart."
Michalis' body seemed to forget to move for nearly a minute at the realization that Gotoh knew. When it finally functioned again, he looked straight at Gotoh, his voice low and grave. "How do you know that?"
"Despite your murder of your own father…" Gotoh continued, ignoring Michalis' question. "You could have still led Macedon down the proper road, if only you had listened to your sister and accepted her aid."
"With Dolhr back in power and Grust and Khadein and Gra allied to it, Macedon could not have fought them as Minerva wished."
"Her rashness had to be tempered, she wasn't able to make the decisions on how to proceed on her own, yes, that is true. Yet you chose a path that was so much worse then a Macedon ruled by Minerva. Now, your leadership skills, military skills, and political skills have succeeded only in making you a pawn to the Manaketes. Your people mere expendable assets."
Michalis clenched a fist at the words, but slowly relaxed the hand. "What has happened cannot be undone. You, who understand destiny so much better then I, know that. I can only continue down the path I have chosen. And…" He turned around, "Macedon is not destroyed. Not yet. So long as I and my Wyvern fly, the nation has a future."
"And should you win, should Macedon's finest snap the League apart, what will you do? Where will you take Macedon from there? Where is there to take Macedon?"
The King started to move toward the door. His words had no hesitation. "If I win, I'll tell you what direction I plan to take the nation. Until then, my only interest is crushing the League and seeing the Altean prince dead on the grass."
Gotoh crossed his arms and slowly shook his head. "Then this discussion is over, is it not? Go, but I assure you, this day will not end in a way that pleases you."
"It will end with either my death or my sisters' deaths. I know full well the result will not please me." He departed the house. His Wyvern was waiting for him. The black-scaled creature's red eyes glinted in recognition at its master's approach. It raised its head off the soft grass it was resting on, making no sound. Michalis came and patted the creature on the snout. Quickly, Michalis climbed onto the Wyvern. The creature raised itself on its legs and spread its wings, revealing the green webbing as it let loose a piercing shriek. After a few moments it rose from the ground, flapping its wings, and taking its master back toward the familiar castle.
"King Michalis The Great." Gotoh said, emphasizing every syllable, it would be the last time he would speak of Michalis with his full title. "The King of Macedon. Murdering his own father, being a pawn of the Manaketes, and now being expected to slay his sisters. His struggles and regrets are on the verge of crushing him." He shook his head, feeling nothing but pity for the man. For the fool who remained ignorant to just how dark the path he was walking truly was.
"He's here." Maria held her Heal Staff close and looked at the Macedon Castle. She remembered the castle so well, or at least, how it was before everything started. Always being watched by guards had always been slightly creepy to her, but she loved spending time with her siblings and her parents. The Wyverns that her siblings rode were like big pets to her, even though she had been told that Michalis' Wyvern was exceptionally violent, even for Wyverns. It had always lowered its head to the ground and let it be caressed by the little girl.
She couldn't have ever looked at either of her siblings and said that there was one she liked better. Though it was more Michalis then Minerva that she idolized and wanted to emulate. Now, she and Minerva had taken it upon themselves to try and save the sibling who had so frequently acted as some strange guide for the two.
Living in such a large structure still had a certain cheerfulness to it. It wasn't cold, as some people might have assumed castle life was. She enjoyed it, but, being near the family she loved was worth so much more.
"Hey, Minerva." She looked to her sister, who was busy looking at the castle, and seeming to grow angrier with every passing moment. That anger briefly broke as she recognized Maria's voice. At the knowledge that they would be marching straight on the castle, a strong concern was birthed in her gut. "We… we're still here to help Michalis, right? We're still here to save him from his circumstances?"
There was the briefest look of conflict from Minerva, but she nodded. "That has never changed. We'll save him, no matter the cost." she clenched her hands, feeling the wind touching and tickling her face, as if the elements were trying to lighten her mood. Yet there could be no comfort, nothing could possibly placate her for what was going to happen.
"And we'll be a family again." Maria said, "Minerva, you'll have an easier time finding him. Promise me that you'll talk to him. You'll continue talking to him until he finally joins us."
Minerva's mouth opened to speak, I don't think things will go so well was what she wanted to say, but she didn't have the heart to say that straight to Maria. Her mouth slowly closed, and she just stared at her sister's face.
The moment of Minerva's silence made apprehension build in Maria's chest. "P-promise me, we'll be a family again at the end of the day, you, me, and Michalis. And the three of us will help Marth take down Dolhr."
Minerva knelt down to get her head level with Maria's. She should have been blunt, should have told her that Michalis wouldn't listen, and that violence was unavoidable, and would end in someone's death. Maybe Michalis', maybe Minerva's. Maria wouldn't like it, but it would have been easier. Yet as she looked at Maria, she wanted to say something, anything to placate her, keep her in high spirits… for just a little longer.
"Yes, Maria." She held her little sister's hand in her own. "I'll talk to him. I promise you."
Maria looked into Minerva's face, and slowly smiled. "We'll take back the years we lost, and Michalis will help us take down Medeus."
"Of… course." Minerva let go of Maria's hand, rising to her full height and turned away before her expression broke. Maria might have been relived for the moment, but nothing could soothe Minerva right now. Her heart felt like it was being torn from its proper place in her chest and tumbling down to her stomach. She almost wished she could have just ripped it out and be done with it.
"The Whitewings are going to come." Minerva thought out loud. "Against the four of us, even Michalis shouldn't be able to amount to much. If he doesn't listen to reason, and he probably won't, we'll-" she lacked the will to finish that sentence, to add the words kill him. With a shake of her head, she left the sentence unfinished and wandered on.
"I'm sorry, prince Marth." Catria bowed her head to Marth. It made sense that Minerva would have the Whitewings follow her when the time to face Michalis had come. It was how Catria had always envisioned the battle, but it didn't change the fact that it felt like the request that the Whitewings accompany her came out of nowhere. "I won't be protecting you in this battle."
"It's okay, Catria." Marth said, though he looked maybe a little miffed at her forced departure, or maybe Catria's eyes were playing tricks on her. "Go with your princess. This is the affair of your country, not mine."
She bowed her head, it was a natural reflex with Marth. Then she took a sudden step forward, grabbing his hand in hers. Her face approached his, and Marth suddenly leaned his head back, not sure of what was happening.
I can't believe I feel this way, but… Catria turned the awkward moment into a simple hug, holding Marth in her arms. Marth was too shocked by the sudden embrace for the idea of returning the gesture to occur to him. His most prominent thought was on what would happen if Caeda walked in. Catria's grip tightened, then eventually released, and she stepped away from him. I'd rather stay with him, then go back to princess Minerva.
She gulped once. "Forgive me for that. I'll return to princess Minerva, and be back to guarding you as soon as possible."
Palla looked at Minerva, saddled on her Wyvern, ready for this battle. The eldest Whitewing wondered how this would play out. They were heading out to face Michalis, who had been the greatest warrior in Macedon the last they had seen of him. Palla could only imagine that his skill had likely grown two fold.
A part of her was happy for this little reunion. It had been a long, long time since they had all fought together. Still, a part of her was upset by her forced separation, even if only a temporary separation, from Wolf. As she looked at her two sisters, she knew that they felt the same. Catria wanted to go back to Marth, and Est wanted to go back to Abel.
There was the slightest feeling of apprehension in Palla's mind over Est's contact, and she wasn't entirely sure if she approved of Abel and Est's interaction. She trusted Abel's character, yet worried that he was putting Est in dangerous situations before she was ready for them.
"Alright." Minerva turned her head and looked over the Whitewings, nodding in approval. "Our objective is to find Michalis. We will make an attempt to talk to him, but if he ignores any attempt to be reasoned with…" she turned forward and bowed her head for a second before it bolted upright. "We'll have no choice but to kill him."
The Whitewings were silent, for once it was Catria, not Palla, who seemed to be the most disturbed by how violent things could get with Michalis.
"As the rest of the League is fighting the brunt of the soldiers Michalis has left, we'll find him." She pumped her fist. "Ready, Whitewings? We move on Marth's signal."
With his cape billowing in the wind, Michalis stood on the top of the Macedon Castle. His Wyvern was nearby, looking at the enemies that were approaching. Its eyes, much stronger then a humans, scanned the ranks, and it noticed Minerva. More prominently, it noticed Minerva's Wyvern, and its eyes narrowed to malicious slits.
Its chin was stroked by Michalis' hand, and it relaxed itself. No matter how much it hated Minerva's Wyvern, and the other creature returned the sentiment, it wouldn't do anything without Michalis' permission.
"Prepare for battle." Michalis ordered, some nearby attendants bowed and darted away. His single greatest elite may have been dead, but it was a negligible fact. The greatest elites of Macedon were still here with him, and that would be more then enough. It would not be a complicated battle, and needed no complicated strategy. Slay Marth, and the others would retreat. Xemcel had specifically stated that Minerva and Maria had to be slain as well, the thought repulsed him, but he knew what he had to do to keep Macedon secure.
The battle would be simple, but that fact didn't soothe Michalis. He turned to his Wyvern, the creature grunted, seeming to understand Michalis' feelings, but it cocked its head as if to simultaneously say that it didn't understand. Michalis' hand fell on its face, rubbing gently just below its eye. After a moment, he got up in the saddle, his lance in his hand, and a very special shield slung onto his arm.
Iote's Shield. Something that remained from the days of Iote, Michalis' distant ancestor. The weapon had been blessed by the Divine Dragons in the ancient war against Medeus. Though not something of mythical strength, like the Falchion, it possessed great power, which his Wyvern would reap the benefits of.
As long as he held the shield, arrows were nothing, and unnatural wind was perfectly negated. The blessings to the shield had been tailor-made to suit a man riding on a creature of the air. His only weaknesses were diffused. Macedon's sacred treasure was in his grasp, and nothing could defeat him now. The shield had been designed to aid Iote in fighting against Dolhr, Michalis sighed at the irony of the fact that it was now being used to aid that very nation.
A long shadow fell over him, he didn't bother looking up. Macedon's elite flew above him, waiting for their king to join their ranks. Their numbers were legion, Michalis' training had allowed even with most unsuited for combat to become soldiers the likes of which few could ever become. They were inferior to Grust's Sable Order, but not by much, and with Michalis at the helm…
He climbed onto the saddle of his Wyvern, the creature made a small growl, and then rose off the ground on its master's signal.
"Our objective is to meet and defeat Macedon's military." Hardin stated, looking over the soldiers. "King Michalis is not the concern of any of you, he will be met by Minerva and the Whitewings. Should you encounter him, flee. You are only to engage Macedon's rank-and-file." Hardin turned to the distance, signaling with a hand just as Marth came up to him. The soldiers began to fall into uniformed formations.
So very, very soon after the fall of Grust, the League was ready to break another part of the Dolhr Alliance. Marth should have felt a sense of accomplishment at how far the League has come, instead, all he felt was conflict. He didn't want to aid the destruction of Minerva's family, but he was honor-bound to lead the League here. He could only trust that Minerva could find… some way to solve this, but doubted she could.
He looked over his shoulder. "We are here to strike down another component of the Dolhr Alliance. All of you, do your best to drive back their forces and rout them." He pointed to the distance. "We're moving now."
With high spirits, the League began to move. It wasn't hard to spot the waiting Macedon army. Up in the air, their numbers darkening the landscape, blocking the sun out with their numbers, outnumbering the League to the point of absurdity. They were there, mobilized and ready to try and pluck the soldiers of the League off the face of the continent.
Minerva and the Whitewings soared above the League. Everyone knew what was about to happen, and no one said a word. Marth raised a hand to call for a small halt, there were no whispers from within the League's ranks that needed to be silenced. Looking toward the Macedon army, Marth saw a single black Wyvern between all the Wyverns of different colors. Feeling a slight chill inside of him at the sight of Minerva and Maria's brother, Marth pointed forward, and the Battle of Macedon… began.
The Wyvern Riders and Pegasus Knights of Macedon descended, and were met by the core of the Archanean League. The first few waves of Macedon's military were killed almost instantly by the League's archers, but in time Macedon's numbers came too quickly for the archers to keep up with. Utter pandemonium ensued as Macedon's army made wild swooping runs through the League, some managing to injure their enemies, but most getting cut down before they could rise up out of the mob of soldiers.
Though they died, Macedon's army succeeded well in disorienting and dividing the League soldiers. Marth looked at how the League seemed to be falling into small groups, and wondered if this was what Michalis wanted his army to do. The tactics the enemy employed… they were so different then anything Minerva or the Whitewings had ever used. It felt strange, he looked up, seeing Minerva battling the enemy in the air. She looked frustrated, running afoul of Macedon's tactics.
At the very least, Minerva was still ripping through her enemies, and the Whitewings, despite their time apart, were well coordinated. He saw the three suddenly all stab into a single enemy at the same time in a maneuver he had never seen from them before. Marth sensed that they were likely far superior combatants since the last time they had fought side by side like this. This war had tested and forced everyone to improve. Still, the enemy was a veritable cloud of wings and lances, and it was likely taking all of Minerva and the Whitewings' skill just to survive up in the air.
The Macedonian enemies attacking the grounded League soldiers were even greater in number. A swarm of locusts descending upon them with lances wrapped firmly in their fingers. Marth stabbed at one enemy with his Rapier, sinking the blade into a Wyvern's neck, ending the creature's life while Jagen slew the rider. Though Macedon was doing very good at disorienting, distracting and separating them, Macedon's numbers were starting to thin. If the League could just keep it up…
Impressive. Michalis looked on from a distance, his focus primarily on his two sisters. Minerva in the air, Maria on the ground. Both capable and strong in their respective fields, Minerva the warrior, Maria the healer. Looking at their skill… yes, they were certainly his kin. He could be proud of them, and yet…
It was time to meet the warrior. His Wyvern raised its head and let loose a piercing, shrill shriek. His soldiers heard, and heeded. They withdrew from their attack upon Minerva and went to the ground, leaving him to meet his sister. Slowly, but not reluctantly, Michalis approached.
"Hello, sister." Michalis began, looking at the familiar face. He hadn't been given much time to speak to anyone save Marth in the Grust Castle, and enjoyed the familiar sight of family. The sense was bittersweet, and he quickly moved on to business. "You have returned to Macedon. What do you make of it, Minerva?"
Minerva's eyes narrowed, and her first impulse would have been to attack, but a moment of hesitation stopped her. She kept her eyes on every movement Michalis made, and met his question with an answer. "I'm not impressed. The nation was better when father was alive."
"Have you even looked at it at all, Minerva?" Michalis responded. "The bandits of Macedon have been all but eradicated. Poverty effectively does not exist, the nation has grown more unified, and the people are closer then ever before. Father never succeeded in doing this, but I did. I wasn't the one who named myself 'The Great', Minerva. It wasn't my loyalists in the military who conceived it either. The people, the common people of Macedon, whom you believe that I trample underfoot, gave me that title."
"You… you don't care about the people." Minerva said, though there was a subtle, almost unnoticable sense of doubt in her voice. Something that the discerning Michalis easily noticed. "You're only interested in power and having a throne under you. No leader that cares about the people would ally himself with Dolhr."
"You're wrong, Minerva." Michalis spoke calmly, "Have you never stopped to consider the strength of Dolhr's allies? Gra, Grust, and Khadein. Macedon could not have fought them and Dolhr by itself. My alliance with them was built on pragmatism, the wish to keep the people safe. So long as I proved myself a useful ally, they left the Macedonian people alone." He looked hard at Minerva, almost accusingly toward his sister. "Every time you disobeyed an order, the Macedonian people were threatened. For every order you refused or ignored during your servitude, the Manaketes threatened to slay the people of the nation. Your actions have put the people in much greater jeopardy then mine have, and have cost them much more. Or do you presume that the bloodbath of yesterday, which you assisted in, did not rob so many Macedonian families of someone dear?"
Minerva opened her mouth to retort, but at first no sound came. Slowly, she developed her argument. "Those… were necessary sacrifices. Some had to… to die for Macedon to return to the path it should have been on all along."
One of Michalis' fingers went up to stroke his forehead for a moment, then dropped back down. "Minerva, would you kill everyone in Macedon, burn the nation to ashes, and say that you saved it? You've made it quite clear that you can't see the illogic staring at you straight in the face."
"I… you…" Minerva began, growing flustered as the words she would have needed to crush Michalis' argument were nowhere to be found. "You… Michalis, you're wrong. You've led Macedon down the wrong path. You've proven yourself unworthy of the throne."
"Such a compelling argument." Michalis responded, partially amused, partially disappointed in Minerva's irrational words.
"Michalis, please." Minerva said with a suddenly softer voice. "I don't have the words to make the convincing argument you want and need, but I know that you're wrong. Please, join me and the League. Macedon can turn upon Dolhr and be a great champion to the cause. Please…" her voice slowly trailed off, her face pleading. She looked into Michalis' stony, unmoving face. "Michalis, for Maria's sake, if not for mine."
He turned away, pained at the mention of Maria. Hope surfaced in Minerva's heart, she hoped that the mention of Maria would have gotten through to him. Slowly, Michalis turned back to Minerva.
"The Hand of Medeus, Xemcel, came to me recently. He spoke of the League's approach on Macedon. He told me, if Macedon is to continue, I must supply Marth's head, and, as a sign of my loyalty to the cause, my sisters' as well."
"Michal-" She tried to speak her brother's name, but the realization of what he just said hit her with a sickening force. "Michalis! No, please…"
"I won't ask for your or Maria's forgiveness." He said. "I'm sorry." He raised his lance in his right hand, and Iote's Shield on his left arm, and his voice gained a new commanding tone. "I am King Michalis The Great, ruler of Macedon. I have dedicated my life to the prosperity of Macedon and the people's right to the pursuit of happiness. I will let no one sully this nation. Minerva, for aiding an army that invaded Macedon, you will be punished with death."
Minerva looked down, aghast and horrified, and then anger deeper then anything she had ever known before exploded from within her. Not anger directed at Michalis, but at the Manaketes. She would not… could not, forgive Dolhr for forcing Michalis to make a decision like this. Suddenly, all she wanted to do was to see her axe plunge into the necks of the Manaketes of Dolhr, Xemcel's in particular.
"Minerva." Michalis spoke, drawing his sister's undivided attention. "Come at me as if you're trying to kill me. If you don't, I'll kill you."
"I'll… save you, Michalis." She lifted Hauteclere, holding it with hands without resolve in them. "The only way I can. I'll… free you… from your circumstances." The same words Maria said so often, to save Michalis, save him from his circumstances. She took in a deep breath, unable to stomach what she was about to do, but not relenting from it either.
"Whitewings." Minerva commanded somberly. "Attack."
The fighting continued on the ground. The orgy of violence continued as severed wings and broken corpses fell upon what had once been healthy, unblemished grass. Maria was hard at work, healing a wound that had been inflicted on Marth's thigh. As she healed it, she took a small moment to liken herself to Marth's dependable guardian angel.
When that was done, Marth, and his bodyguard, Jagen, took off to their next targets. Maria turned to watch them leave, and then her eyes were drawn upward, and she saw both Minerva and Michalis. Only, they weren't talking, they had begun to attack each other. She looked, her mouth hanging open in horror as Minerva and the Whitewings, Est included, charged at Michalis.
She wasn't the only one who noticed. Several soldiers on both sides of the army turned to the battle above. League soldiers on the ground had no way of aiding in the battle against Michalis, and the Macedonian army respected Michalis' order to let him fight. A strange silence fell across the battle, Maria looked on in shock. Then, slowly, the fighting began again, ground and sky.
Hauteclere came down, Michalis blocked it with Iote's Shield. Not even a knick was made into the design of the shield. Michalis' Wyvern snapped at Minerva's, biting and cracking some scales on the head of Minerva's Wyvern. Minerva rose Hauteclere back up into the air and tried to swing again. Michalis swung his lance, connecting the blade of his weapon with Minerva's axe, throwing her attack away with enough force that even her Wyvern backed up somewhat.
Minerva regained her orientation and looked at Michalis. She pointed at him with a look that seemed to state that she felt victory had been achieved. Michalis raised an eyebrow, then suddenly realized the position he was in.
"Forgive me, King Michalis." Palla said, she and her two sisters were around Michalis in formation. Palla raised her lance up, "Together, sisters. The Whitewing's Triangle Attack!"
All three of them charged toward Michalis. He knew exactly what this attack was, it was the signature attack of the Whitewings, he had seen it several times, and had been impressed by it. A three man charge at one target, that always had a lethal result. Even so, there were flaws in the attack. If one knew where to look, it was simple to diffuse.
The Whitewings approached with the intent to kill him. With enemies coming at him from three different directions, it was easy to freeze as fear coursed through you, and that's what made the attack so intimidating. Michalis rose into the air, feeling no fear, the tips of the lances of the Whitewings connected with each other, fatally piercing through nothing, in contrast to what they had intended. Michalis floated above, not one thread of his royal uniform damaged.
"The famed Triangle Attack." Michalis noted, looking at the astonished faces of the three women. "Not impressive." Holding his lance ready, he descended on the three, they scattered before he reached them. A certain distance away, they turned to face them. Their faces…
Their confidence in meeting and defeating Michalis had turned to mist the moment he so easily evaded their signature attack. He turned his attention from them and back to his sister. She was coming right at him, he raised his lance and blocked her first attack. Hauteclere moved across his lance, generating sparks as it went down the handle, and then lifted.
Michalis saw what he believed was an opportunity, and brought the lance back for a thrust. Minerva swung her axe again, Michalis immediately disengaged from his attack and tried to pull back, but could not completely avoid the axe swing. The axe lightly went over his chest, ripping easily through the fabric of his clothes and cutting a gash into his chest.
So shocked at the sudden wound, he briefly let go of the rein of his Wyvern. He began to, fall… from the saddle of his Wyvern. His lance flew from his hand as he began to descend.
"Michalis!" Minerva called out, suddenly swooping down. As she saw her brother plummeting, she tried, desperately, to reach him, catch him. As they approached the ground with sickening speed, she reached a hand out. "Michalis, grab my hand!"
He looked at his sister. His face was… confident. "It is not me you should be worried about, Minerva."
She hesitated at the strange words, then looked above her. Michalis' Wyvern was descending, and the black creature was moving far faster then Minerva's red mount. Minerva's eyes widened, and she immediately banked to the side to get out of its way. The black Wyvern swooped underneath Michalis and caught its master. The King raised a hand up and caught his lance as it fell to him.
The Wyvern flapped its powerful wings and slowly ascended until it was level with Minerva. Her face was relieved, but it quickly shifted to an expression of determination.
"You impressed me, Minerva. Last we sparred, you would have never been able to interrupt that attack." He readied his lance, ignoring the small amount of blood daring to seep out of his chest. His Wyvern flapped its mighty wings and rose above, Minerva followed, ascending higher and higher, until they were well above where they had been fighting earlier.
"Michalis, more then ever, I want to help you." Minerva said, looking at her brother. At the height they were at, a fall at this point might, by some miracle, not kill one of them, but it would most certainly end the battle. She realized that Michalis wanted to end the battle, rather then engage in a prolonged struggle. "I can't bring myself to support what you're doing, that's not the kind of help you need. I can't persuade you, we've already established that that's hopeless. There's only one way I can help you, and that's to…" She left the rest of the sentence unspoken, and her resolve shook.
"I cannot die." Michalis answered. "Not when Macedon's security, and future, are my burden to bear." Minerva closed her eyes for a moment, then slowly opened them again. Her brother… so much was on the verge of crushing him, if he truly slew his siblings, he would really be broken. That, she knew, was what the Manaketes wanted. A man as militaristically capable as Michalis would never rebel once he had been so thoroughly broken.
They both looked at each other, and knew that the end had come. The Whitewings stayed back, no longer taking part in this fight. Michalis and Minerva shared a look, then immediately charged.
Minerva's axe sliced through the air in an attempt to reach Michalis, but it failed, time and again, to reach its target. Michalis' Wyvern snapped at the soft underbelly of the opposing Wyvern, eventually biting and ripping a deep gash into its enemy.
They briefly separated from the exchange, Michalis dashed around on his Wyvern, making fast hit-and-run attacks on Minerva. Minerva gritted her teeth as her Wyvern was incapable of moving so quickly, slowed as it was by the wound to its gut.
Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself and watched as Michalis came at her. She dodged the attack and swung Hauteclere at him, missing entirely. She put too much energy in the swing and nearly fell forward out of the saddle.
Michalis came at her again, she knew she wouldn't last against him for much longer. Not if she continued to fight like this. She watched her brother approach, and decided to do something she believed Michalis would not expect. She charged straight at him, Hauteclere in her hands. For just one fraction of a second, surprise registered on Michalis' face.
Rather then connect with a possibly fatal attack against his sister, Michalis instead felt Hauteclere slash through his hip. Immediately afterwards, the very moment he had realized the pain in his hip, Hauteclere slashed across his back.
"M-Michalis…" Minerva's voice sounded apologetic and sorrowful. "I… the fight is over. Let me take y-"
"Truly…" Michalis began, his lance slipped from his hand and began to fall down to the land so far below. "…skill, worthy of… a member of the… Royal Family." He turned the hand that had held the lance and looked at the now shaking palm. He wondered… if father was smiling smugly at him, from above, or below.
Macedon… my people… I have failed you.
Minerva began to reach out to try and grab Michalis, but was too slow. Michalis suddenly began to slip from the side. Minerva, in a panic, tried to wrap a hand around him, but was too late. Michalis fell from his saddle and began to plummet.
Immediately, Minerva swooped down, the only thing mattering to her in this precise instant was getting to and saving her brother.
Michalis' Wyvern raced neck-to-neck with Minerva's Wyvern as both tried to reach Michalis. Minerva didn't care who reached him first, she just wanted him to be safe, to live beyond today. He had been forced to make too many tough decisions for death today to be his reward.
The ground began to come into sight. Neither Minerva or Michalis' Wyvern were getting closer to the King of Macedon. Animal panic set in Minerva and she tried to make her Wyvern move faster. The wind buffeting her face was making her eyes water, or maybe the fear of what could happen was beckoning tears. The ground had become so close, and yet they were still far from Michalis.
Seconds that felt like hours passed, and the pursuit of Michalis' gravity pulled body ended… as he landed with a sickening cracking sound on the dirt and grass of Macedon.
Minerva landed and immediately dismounted from her Wyvern, sure that Michalis was dead. Her eyes, blurred from the water that had leaked from them, managed to catch slight of movement. Michalis' chest was heaving up and down, he was still breathing, he was still alive. She tried to approach, when two rows of fangs appeared in her face.
Michalis' Wyvern shrieked at Minerva, a murderous threat to stay away. Minerva jumped back in shock. She tried to approach again when a hand grabbed her shoulder. She turned to see Palla behind her, the eldest Whitewing looked to be empathizing with Minerva, tears trailing down her cheek. Minerva turned back to where Michalis lay.
The black Wyvern managed to get its head under Michalis' broken body, and then lifted its head up, scooping its master up and letting him fall into the saddle. The creature looked at Minerva, if it had even a shred of warmth for Minerva or the red Wyvern, such feelings were gone now. Minerva looked into its eyes, and realized, the beast was crying. Trails of tears had come, going down the scales over what had happened to its master.
With a final shrill cry, the black beast took flight, taking its dying master, Iote's Shield still slung on his arm, away from the battlefield.
Minerva wanted to follow, no matter what Michalis' Wyvern thought, she wanted to help Michalis. She wanted to-
"Minerva!" She was caught off-guard by the sound of her name being shouted. She turned, the first thing her blurry vision noticed was that the battle was over. Macedon's army had been ripped apart. Then her eyes focused on the one who had just spoken.
"Maria…" Minerva began, weakly. She realized that Maria had seen everything, she had seen Minerva battle Michalis and wound him like that. In direct conflict of everything Maria had wanted Minerva to do.
"Don't talk to me!" Maria shouted, Minerva flinched at the raw anger in the young voice. "You… you barely tried to talk to him. You attacked him, you ripped him from the saddle and threw him to the ground. You… wanted to kill him."
"I…" Minerva was too overwhelmed with grief to try and defend herself. These soul-wrenching accusations were the last thing she needed right now. "Maria, I-I tried-"
Maria turned away. "I said don't talk to me!" She trembled with sorrow and anger. Est, no longer on her Pegasus, came up to Maria. Maria looked at her friend, she wouldn't have gone against Maria's wishes like this, she had no choice but to just follow Minerva's orders, no matter what they were. That was her belief, Est wouldn't have betrayed her.
"Maria…" Minerva tried to begin talking again, "Please, try to understand-"
"Stay away from me." Maria suddenly hissed, "Until Michalis is back with us, I don't want to talk to you."
Minerva's mouth opened, and it felt like her heart and soul had escaped out of it. Maria ran away in tears, and Minerva collapsed to her knees, her fists hammered into the dirt, as tears came unhindered from her clenched shut eyes.
The battle was over, Macedon's army was in pieces. The entirety of the nation would likely follow suit in short order. Marth shook his head, just a minor gesture of displeasure that didn't do justice for what had happened today. He decided against trying to talk to Minerva or Maria right now, and moved to other duties. Aside from eliminating the threat that Macedon posed as a member of the Dolhr Alliance, especially with such a capable man at its helm, there was something else he had come here to do.
The White Sage had told Marth that he dwelt in 'an old house not far from the castle.' He sent scouts, more accurately, Wolf and Sedgar, out to try and determine where Gotoh was. In time, they returned to him. They reported nothing conclusive, but offered one very strong possibility. Marth went there now, Wendell came with him, eager for the chance to see the White Sage again. Merric came at Wendell's request, and in turn, Linde.
The building was where Wolf and Sedgar said it would be. Marth held the bag that contained the two Spheres in his hand. He briefly contemplated what he would do if it wasn't Gotoh in that building, but shook his head. If he wasn't there, it was likely abandoned. The building looked like it hadn't been properly maintained for years. Marth wondered why the White Sage, who was likely used to some level of extravagance, lived in a building like this.
Marth approached, at the very least, the door seemed to have been used recently. Cautiously, he grabbed the knob with his free hand and opened it. He entered…
"Marth." A familiar voice spoke. The prince was on-guard at first, but slowly recognized the speaker. It did not have the ethereal tone it had when inside his head, but it was the voice of one certain person.
"White Sage." Marth said, stepping further in, and seeing the man in one of the larger rooms of the building.
Gotoh stood, an aged, elderly figure. More then just old, Marth looked at him, and he felt as though Gotoh stood outside of time altogether. At the same time, despite his obvious age, Marth could sense the White Sage's power. Seeming to waft off of him like an aura, and Marth was not attuned to magic. He could only imagine what it was like for his three companions.
Gotoh nodded in approval at Marth, then turned his head. "Wendell."
"White Sage." Wendell stepped forward, "It pleases me to see you again. For a long time, no one knew where you had gone after Gharnef's rebellion."
"And it is because of his rebellion that you have come to me now." Gotoh observed, he had orchestrated it such. Without him, more accurately, without Starlight, Gharnef would remain as untouchable as he had always been. He was well pleased to see that a face as familiar as Wendell's persisted. After looking at Wendell for a time, he turned his attention to the other wielders of magic.
"My student, Merric." Wendell identified the first, hoping that Merric's strength of magic was to Gotoh's liking. The White Sage's expression and body language conveyed neither disappointment or approval in the Altean mage. Wendell's heart briefly sank, but he immediately reprimanded himself. If Merric was not yet at the level that Gotoh felt defined someone as skilled, then Merric simply was not at that level yet. He would be in time.
"And… Linde. The daughter of Miloah." Wendell continued.
Gotoh turned to Linde. He wasn't surprised or shocked, not exactly. Yet the fact that this woman was the daughter of one of his students garnered his undivided attention. He looked at her, or through her.
"S-sir…" Linde began, feeling unnerved at how it felt like Gotoh already saw everything about her, body and soul, despite looking at her with closed eyes.
Miloah was one of the finest wielders of magic that I had seen in my long life. Thoughts of the training of Miloah, of his natural skill and fast growing expertise, and his great heart, briefly flooded the White Sage's mind, then dispersed. Yet I see far more potential in his offspring. Gotoh lingered on Linde a moment longer, then turned to Marth. "You… have brought the spheres, have you not?"
Marth held up the bag, "Yes, as you requested. The Starsphere and the Lightsphere."
Gotoh held a hand out, and the bag floated out of Marth's hand, the Starsphere and Lightsphere rose out of the bag, which fell empty to the ground. The two spheres fell into Gotoh's hands. He was pleased to feel the familiar things in him, filling him with the essence of familiar power.
"With these two spheres, I am now capable of creating that which can break the veil of Imhullu. I would like a little time to do so." Gotoh wasted no time, and began to chant in a tongue that Marth had never heard before. As he spoke in what Marth presumed was an ancient language, the spheres began to rise out of the White Sage's grip. They both began to glow, weakly at first, but soon they were bright enough that those present had to look away.
The chanting continued, light spawned from both spheres and joined together. The energy, holy and divine, conjoined in a blinding flash, the flash pulsed as something… physical, seemed to be birthed within it. Then… the light was gone, and a single, blue tome hovered in the air. Gotoh brought his hands forward, right beneath the tome, which floated gently down until it rested in his hands. The Starsphere and Lightsphere continued to hang in the air, and then the Starsphere suddenly cracked, letting loose a blinding array of energy that filled the house as though a small sun had been born. It looked as though it was on the verge of shattering. Then, both spheres vanished, out of sight.
"This… is hope." Gotoh said, his attention exclusively on the tome he now had in his hands. "The candle that holds the cloying shadows back. The one spot in which the will of darkness be denied. Take it, Marth, give it to someone you deem worthy, and may Gharnef's rule finally end." He extended his hands, Marth hesitated a moment, and then took the tome, being careful to not drop or damage it in anyway.
"Someone worthy…" Marth wondered aloud. Merric, Linde, Wendell, Boah, Etzel, all worthy users of the spell. Yet Gharnef was no fool, he wouldn't be defeated easily. It would be the best if he could determine who would be the best user of the spell. Too much would be lost, if the tome was lost.
Linde stepped forward. "Let me have it." She suddenly said. Marth turned to her with a shocked expression. Her expression showcased determination, but at the look of apprehension in Marth, her face and voice turned pleading. "Please, prince Marth. Gharnef robbed me of my father, I have every right to want revenge. The tome should go to me."
"Ah…" Gotoh turned to Linde. "I see only… smoldering hatred… in you."
"I have every right to want justice, White Sage. He killed my father, your treasured student, and… he…"
She has the potential to far surpass her father. Gotoh noted, looking at the magical energy moving through her. Yet as long as she holds on to this hatred, she won't as much as match Miloah. She would only meet death if she faced Gharnef as she is now.
"As you are now, you do not possess the strength to face Gharnef, daughter of Miloah." Gotoh said flatly. Linde's head jerked back as though she was offended by the words. "Hatred offers no strength, no true resolve. Cling to it as your crutch, and you will become as empty and as insignificant as one of the corpses impaled on a pike in Dolhr. Rather, take strength from those who need you in their lives, let them guide you. If you cannot take such strength and mold it into a weapon against Gharnef, you will never be worthy of Starlight."
Linde looked away, not thinking for a second that she should let go of her grudge against Gharnef. Yet… she thought of those who needed her. Once, she would have thought of Nyna above anyone else. Now, she could only think of Merric and Roshea like that. People she needed… but, precious to her, they couldn't match her feelings of anger for Gharnef.
"Think long and hard, daughter of Miloah. You cannot fight Gharnef with hatred. Starlight is not to be wielded out of some misguided sense of vengeance or with burning hatred. The one who wields the tome must wield it with the desire to protect, a yearning to keep close those who have not been yet forced to relinquish their souls."
Linde stared straight at Gotoh, not able to say anything.
"Regardless of who takes Starlight, the time to face the wielder of Imhullu has come." Gotoh turned to the table and waved his hand. A pattern appeared on the wood. It took a few seconds, but Marth realized that he was staring at a map of the continent. It looked like it had been etched into the wooden table, but he knew it was simply the White Sage's magic. "Gharnef bides his time in the Temple of Thabes." One part of the map suddenly glowed, illuminating where Gharnef was. "It is far… so far away from Macedon. It would take months for the League to reach on foot. Furthermore, the path is nearly impassable, you would lose more troops on the treacherous path then you would in the battle against my erstwhile apprentice."
Marth looked at the map, seeing the marking that denoted mountains. Thick, tall, steep, where one misstep could send someone plummeting to his death, it was the bane of travelers. He gritted his teeth. "Is there another way to reach him? We need to give him as little time to react as possible."
"I can… bring you there." Gotoh said, waving his hand again, making the map disappear. "All of the Archanean League can be brought there. Merely tell me when you are ready, I can bring the entire League there all at once."
"When we're ready? We'll go right no-"
"No, Marth." Gotoh shook his head. "Not so soon after such a battle. Many of your soldiers are taxed and weakened after a battle like today's. Sending you there now would be sending walking dead to their graves. Take your time… see to your army's health, then return to me. The battle will be soon, but not today."
Marth took in a deep, calming breath. Gharnef stood between him and his sister, he'd charge there by himself if he could, but he recognized the wisdom in Gotoh's words. "When the League is ready for the battle… and not a moment later, White Sage."
For the time being, the decision had been made that nobody try to enter the castle of Macedon. Michalis had been beloved by the people, and the presence of the League could have instigated a riot in the castle town. Instead, the army made camp a healthy distance from the castle, and the town in front of it.
One part of Marth was curious about the interior of the castle. He couldn't help but wonder how it compared and contrasted to Castle Altea. He would not be a human if he did not have those curiosities. Still, it was in the army's best interests that they not approach the structure.
He sat by himself in his own tent. Right now, he spent his time reflecting on the battle, and what had transpired today. Macedon had no further role in this war, just like Grust and Gra before it.
It was funny, not amusing, just… strange. As he spent his days in exile in Talys, he always dreamed of destroying the Dolhr Alliance. Those days, he painted the nations to be a loose collection of savage animals, good only to fight and kill. So much had changed since those days. So, so much. He would have never expected the Prime Minister of Gra to have opposed Jiol, or see himself become a friend of Macedon's two princesses, or discover the sort of honor that Camus of Grust upheld.
Now, Gharnef. There couldn't be anything redeemable or honorable about that man. Everything he did was out of spite. The Dark Pontifex was a man who was incapable of handling the fact that he was not Aura's successor. So… he himself had aided Dolhr in plunging the continent into its current nightmares, all out of a petty grudge and sense of victimization.
As he was thinking, the front of his tent suddenly pulled open. He immediately reached for his Rapier, in case a vengeful Macedonian had come. He turned to the entrance of the tent and saw a familiar figure.
"Minerva?" He blinked in surprise at this sudden visit. The royal Wyvern Rider of Macedon looked completely miserable. Of course, he told himself. She had gone through something today that few would ever be forced to go through.
"Marth…" her voice cracked, revealing a previously unseen weakness. "Can I… come in?"
He nodded to offer permission as he sat back down. Minerva stepped in, Marth wondered what she was thinking. He wouldn't pretend that he understood what she was going through. He understood losing a sibling, yes, but he knew for a fact that his sister was alive. Michalis, it wasn't known if Minerva's brother still held onto life.
Minerva sat down next to him, crossing her arms and bowing her head. She sat like that for a long time, the minutes of silence stretching to the breadth of a full hour. Every few minutes her head slightly raised, as though she was readying herself to talk, but it would sink back down in time. Then, she suddenly spoke.
"I've torn my family apart." She said petulantly. Her words came slowly, as if speaking them physically pained her. "I could have fought differently, not hurt Michalis as bad, just, restrain him instead of doing what I did. He would be alive, maybe even with us. If he was here to see that he had been defeated, I'm sure he would have seen that he had nothing to lose by allying with us. Instead, I…" her words trailed off, her will to speak dying.
"I don't have the honor of a Dolhrian Manakete." She finally said, "I had always been the one most opposed to peaceful solutions. Now look at what my methods have resulted in. Maria's right to be so angry… I don't… deserve…"
"Minerva." Marth interrupted, placing a hand on the despairing princess' shoulder. She seemed suddenly intent on blaming herself for everything. "You did all you could…"
She didn't even have the will to clench her hands. "All I could do wasn't enough. Michalis is gone… probably dead. The throne falls to me, but… I don't deserve it. I don't…" She turned to Marth, the proud princess of Macedon had never looked this vulnerable before. At the moment, she was yearning for some measure of comfort, but Marth's face, sympathetic and calming though it was, wasn't enough.
Slowly, she stood back up and walked a few steps away. She knew the aftermath of fighting her brother would be beyond difficult to cope with, but never expected anything like this. She heard Marth stand up and place a hand on her shoulder. At any other point, she would have swatted the hand away. Yet, she just turned around, and saw that Marth seemed to want to help her.
Without thinking, she suddenly embraced him, holding him close, as if proximity with him was all she needed to be at peace. There was once a time she would have dismissed Marth as soft, but in this moment she thought of him as everything she was too pathetic to be. If only he could have stayed with her, to temper her aggression and let her know what the best path was. Her grip was tight, and she wouldn't let go. All she felt was the overwhelming belief that she had been in the wrong from the very beginning. How did she not see how things would go?
Reluctantly, she let go of Marth. She breathed calmly, knowing how pathetic she had to look right now. "I'll be ready for the next battle, Marth. I swear, I'll destroy Xemcel, for the decision he forced Michalis to make." She looked at Marth, then turned away, regaining a fraction of her old confidence and pride. "I'll continue to fight for the League until Dolhr is defeated. I know that people will think that I joined with the League just to steal the throne, because I'll have to take it when Medeus is defeated. I…" she nodded to no one in particular. "I'll do what I can, but I'm not Michalis."
"You'll do… fine, Minerva." Marth said. "There could be no good resolution to today, you just have to continue on, and try to make the best of what happened." He didn't talk of Maria, that's not a subject Minerva should have been forced to discuss right now. He believed that Maria still loved her sister, but… the royal family of Macedon was in a tense setting now, now that two siblings had attacked each other with the intent to kill. Any attempts to mediate it would require careful treading. "For now, we only have the rest of the war to focus on. We won't return to Macedon until Medeus is defeated."
Minerva made no reply.
Marth wanted some fresh air, and opted to leave his tent after Minerva departed. He shook his head, and took in a deep gulp of the Macedon air. It seemed to honestly taste different then Altean air, or the salty Talys air. His cape blew gently from the weak Macedonian breeze.
"Mar-Mar?"
His reaction was somewhere in between a cringe and a sigh. There was only one person who would address him with that title. He turned, "Yes, Tiki?"
"I was wondering what you were doing by yourself." Tiki cocked her head, "Aren't you scared of the dark?"
"Um…" He was momentarily tongue-tied. It was hard to believe that a Divine Dragon just said something like that. If there was one thing he could say about Tiki, she acted in the exact opposite manner of how Marth would have presumed a Divine Dragon would act. "No, Tiki, not particularly."
"Then… what are you doing?" Her eyes darted around nervously, and Marth realized that she was probably scared of the dark.
"I was just… thinking." He sat down cross-legged, getting his head level with hers. "The defeat of Grust, and of Macedon, were much more bittersweet then I could have ever expected them to be. I never thought of our enemies as anything but monsters."
Tiki twisted her lips. "Aren't they the bad guys?"
"Well, yes. But it's not always that cut and dry." He groped for words, trying to come up with an explanation that would make sense for Tiki. "Not all evils are performed for evil purposes. And sometimes, cruel acts are done for the best. It can be difficult to sort out."
"How can a cruel act be for the best?"
"I…" he sighed. "Sometimes, even the worst acts can seem sane when one looks at them long after the fact, and consider what affects they had. Though I would never want to slaughter people just because they're associated with a group, maybe, at times…"
Tiki tried to understand what Marth was saying, but she couldn't wrap her youthful mind around it. "I… don't understand. Can't there be a simple explanation for everything? Some people are just good, and others are just bad?"
"I wish it could be like that." He shook his head. "Camus The Sable and King Michalis… weren't bad people, but they supported the wrong things. What happened to them… I can't bring myself to say that we did the 'right' thing to try and slay them, but I don't think anyone can say that we were in the wrong, either."
Tiki scratched at her head, now even more confused.
"Sometimes, the issue of good and evil is confusing. I'm not a God, I can't just say that someone is evil and be justified. However, I do know that some people have to be killed. Like Gharnef, who we'll be fighting soon."
"Him…" Tiki trembled, "He's the one who left me all alone in the Fane, Mar-Mar."
He nodded. "He'll be our next enemy."
"When?"
Marth paused, he couldn't give a real estimate. It would depend upon when the League was ready to fight again. How long that would be was hard to gauge, most of the soldiers were completely exhausted right now. He turned to Tiki and told her the only thing that he believed he could say. "Soon. We'll fight him soon. Be sure to get your rest, Tiki. It won't be an easy fight."
She thought about resting, but… "I don't like sleeping." Marth did a double-take at the strange statement. "When I dream, I'm always alone. And… what if I slip into a years long sleep again?"
Marth managed a smile, and seemed surprised that he would manage one today. "If you get into a sleep like that, I'll wake you up, Tiki."
Tiki looked at Marth's honest eyes, and felt completely relieved. Slowly, she laid her head down near him, taking solace in Marth's presence. She was oblivious to another presence nearby.
Gotoh stared at the little Divine princess resting near Marth. Naga's daughter. The last time I saw her, I was… He shook his head, memories from many lifetimes ago flooded into him from just one glance at Tiki. He continued to look at her as a short sleep, short even by human standards, overtook the girl. It was hard to believe that so innocent a girl was the daughter of mankind's savior, Naga.
Still, no matter how innocent she was, as long as she held that Divinestone, she was among the strongest on the continent. Perhaps she could even stand up to Medeus on her own. If she was aided by Marth while he was wielding Falchion, Medeus would have little chance of victory.
But even a little chance was a chance. Gotoh disliked it, considering the stakes that would be in such a battle. Medeus was no fool, he would have likely prepared for such a contingency. The League, no, the continent itself needed an extra precaution taken to ensure that all would be well, come the day the fight was brought to Medeus' Keep.
Bringing his hand forward, he pointed a finger at Tiki. A small series of lights, looking almost like glitter, spawned in the air and slowly moved. It went straight for Tiki, going unnoticed by the sleeping girl and the only half-awake Altean prince. It entered Tiki's body through the back of her head, seeming to just pass through skin and muscle and bone.
Nothing happened, and for the time being, nothing would. In time, Gotoh's actions would bear fruit, and could very well be what allows the League to achieve victory at the very end. In time.
I, personally, dislike the black and white nature of the whole Michalis/Minerva issue in the game. I prefer to think that neither one is exactly in the 'right'. (Contrary to how the game seems to be saying that Minerva is complete 'right' and Michalis is completely 'wrong') I tried to figure that into this chapter.
Please review.