ASLEEP
Chapter Thirty-Seven – Keep it Moving
A long train of redheads slowly trailed in through the gates, about twenty of them in total. I sighed and sank my head into my hands – how the hell are you meant to explain to a woman's family that she was not, in fact, caught in a crossfire but murdered?
Don't do anything foolish. We'll hunt for the killer, of course, but tensions are too high to do anything else.
Chrom's response sounded more like something Frederick would say. Hell, Frederick probably advised him on what to say in a situation like this. Poor bastard.
We'll catch him – or her – but for now we shouldn't show our hand. The killer thinks that we still believe it was Plegia, we can use that to our advantage.
Robin's response was...well, Robin. Kind of ruthless, makes perfect sense, detached from actual emotional logic. Honestly, it's kind of terrifying sometimes. It's like...you go for someone he knows, and he stops being a nice guy and turns into the fucking Punisher.
Except arguably more competent. Or just more destructive. I mean dear god, that crap he pulled at the Castle? Or in the valley? It was horrifying. Glad he's on our side. Most of the time, anyway – I do wish he was slightly more compassionate.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Stahl asked, leaning against the wall and biting into a sandwich. I sighed and shookmy head.
"This is such a fucking mess, Stahl." I muttered. "I know it was kinda weird, but I really expected us to come out of this whole thing without a scratch. Instead, off goes Gregor, Vaike and Anna."
Stahl nodded miserably. "It's been a month, though. I think...maybe we should try to move on?" He suggested. I laughed bitterly and shook my head again – I'll get dizzy if I keep this up.
"My best friend's wandering around doing fuck-knows-what, and there's about to be a small army of Annas pissed off at him for not at least attending her funeral."
Annas? Anna's? Anni? What is the plural for the species of Anna, anyway? Why am I joking about this? What am I, Cameron? No, wait, that's not right. Even he wouldn't joke about this. There is something seriously wrong with me.
Then again, there's something seriously wrong with just about everybody. Especially in this world – everybody's got something wrong with them. Honestly, they're probably all coping mechanisms. Except for Tharja, she's just creepy for creepy's sakes.
THERE I GO AGAIN
"He'll be fine." Stahl nodded encouragingly. "Someone can talk the Annas down, and it's not like he can't look out for himself in a fight."
"If you're so confident someone can talk them down, why don't you do it?" I shot back. Stahl paled considerably.
"I'm sure you'd do better at it than me." He mumbled after a second. I snorted and shook my head.
"Stahl, I suck at speeches. You, on the other hand, are average at everything – which means you're a better choice here."
Stahl blinked. "I'm...not sure thats' how it works-"
"BOTH OF YOU!" A voice roared from behind us. "STOP SLACKING OFF ON DUTY OR I'LL REPORT YOU TO THE KNIGHT CAPTAIN!"
We glanced at each other, sighed, and turned around to face the quivering fat man in a town watch uniform.
"Is there a problem, Sergeant?" Stahl asked with a smile. The sergeant went red in the face, his thin mustache quivering.
"YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT THERE'S A PROBLEM, RECRUITS!"
Recruits? Bitch what are you talking about? "We're not recruits-"
"OH? THEN WHAT ARE YOU?!" He yelled, spittle flying everywhere as his two chins trembled with rage. "FANCY YOURSELF SHEPHERDS, MAYBE?! THINK YOU'RE BOTH BIG INVINCIBLE HEROES WHO WENT OFF TO THE WAR?"
Well look at that I think something just snapped inside of me. Oh, hey, he's on the floor. My hand is also covered in sweat. What a coincidence!
The sergeant started to pull himself up, but honestly if you don't finish what you start what good are you? I put one foot on his large belly and pressed down.
"Listen, you pathetic excuse for a human being. We might be big, and we might be heroes, but we sure as hell aren't invincible. We learned that the hard way."
I kicked him away from me, where he scrambled upright and scowled. "...striking a superior officer's a hanging offence. You'll hang for this, recruits!"
Is this man deluded?
"Shepherds are outside the regular chain of command-" Stahl began. The sergeant snorted.
"Soft in the head, are you? A pair of thin morons like you can't be shepherds!"
Bitch I bled for that title. My best friend died with that title, and now my other one's running off to somewhere because he can't handle the title. I am KEEPING THE FUCKING TITLE.
"Kylar." I said softly. The sergeant blinked, Stahl blinked, and then Kylar slammed into the wall behind him.
"SKREEEEEEEEEE!" He yelled, right into the sergeant's face. I pity him, griffon-slobber is not very pleasant. The sergeant blinked.
Dude, it's the only griffon for miles. If you still don't think we're shepherds, I will throw you off of this wall right now.
...aaaand he fainted. Stahl sighed and shook his head. "That was..."
"Interesting?" I offered. "Come on, let's get out of here. I wonder why he thought we were recruits?"
As I tried to walk past, Kylar grabbed my sleeve in his beak and pulled. What the hell, man?
"Kylar, I can't play with you right now-" I grumbled, before he pulled harder and started into my eyes.
"You're not trying to play with me." I muttered, kneeling down and rubbing his beak. "What's wrong, boy?"
"Do you think he's noticed something?" Stahl asks me curiously. I chewed my lip thoughtfully.
"I'm pretty sure he has." I agreed. "Comeon, boy, show me the problem."
Kylar turned away and dropped down from the wall, gliding to the floor. Stahl glanced at me, sighed, and took the stairs.
"He did that on purpose, didn't he?" He muttered. Smirking, I followed him.
"Knowing him, yeah." I patted Kylar's wing. "Alright, where is it?"
Kylar stretched out and pointed his beak at a pair of bins set up in an alley against the wall...what? "Alright, bird, you've already eaten, and you're not a scavenger anyway-" I started, right before Kylar ripped a hole in the side of one of the bins with his beak, and a greyish corpse fell out. Stahl blinked, and opened the other bin.
"There's another one in here." He reported. Groaning, I rubbed my temples.
"I guess we found those recruits the sergeants thought we were." I sighed. "Alright, let's have a look around-" I turned around, and blinked when I saw what was painted on the other side of the alley.
"Is that blood?" Stahl blinked, reaching out to touch it. You know, I could have sworn I recognize this pattern. Hey, yeah! This is the thing that's on Robin's hand! Cool! Wait...
...Merde. That's the design on Robin's hand.
"Aaaand there's grimleal in the town and they're killing people." I grumbled. "Woop de fucking do."
"How do you know they're grimleal?" Stahl asked curiously.
"WELL GEE, MAYBE IT'S THE FIVE-FOOT GIANT EYES OF GRIMA PAINTED IN BLOOD!"
"This complicates things." Robin mused as he stared at the quite frankly fucking obvious giant eyes. "...it looks kind of like my tattoo."
This is about to get awkward. "Robin, I hate to break it to you, but it looks exactly like your tattoo." I grumbled. "That's not really the important part, though. The important part-"
"Is that we have crazed killers loose in the town." Robin sighed, rubbing his temples. "This might get difficult."
"What d'you reckon their plan is?" I asked, shuddering slightly as the town watch dragged away the two drained corpses. Robin stared unflinchingly at the wall, muttering under his breath.
"I can't imagine they'd just come in here to kill two fresh recruits, as tragic as that is." He said after a few seconds, glancing up at the sky and biting his lip. "It's probably something to do with the exalt."
"Why'd they still be after Emmeryn, though?" I wondered, walking out of the alley. "The war's over, there's no point any more."
"It's entirely possible that there are some fringe extremists who don't take kindly to being defeated by a pacifist." Robin mused, walking next to me. "This is something we should bring up at the next council meeting, though."
I snorted to myself. "You're sure everyone will listen?"
"Emmeryn and Chrom will." Robin said, nodding firmly. "The rest of the nobles don't really matter if those two agree on something."
Sighing, we drew to a stop outside the palace gates, where Robin nodded cheerfully to me before going inside with a wave.
"I'll see you at the memorial tomorrow, Julian." He called out. "Don't worry, we'll get to the bottom of it."
Great, now you're doing more to solve the murder of two random guys rather than the murder of somebody you actually knew. Good going, Robin. Good fucking going.
Well, that was oddly bitter of me. Gonna have to work on that. Welp, time to find a tavern, get wasted, and then write a memorial speech about Gregor. While wasted.
He'd have approved.
The memorial service began two hours ago. I'm standing in line, waiting for the part where they ask me to talk about Gregor. Gods, I'm going to miss the big lug. One of the pegasus knights – I think her name was Yalla? - stepped down from the podium where she'd just talked about her fallen sisters. Libra's standing in front of a copy of whatever the hell their holy book is called, there's nobles seated at tables - nobles who don't know jack shit - and civilians thronging everywhere who probably can't even hear. At least the high table's full of good people. Phila looks kind of impatient - can't blame her, this is so dull - and Emmeryn's crying.
Waaaay too soft to be a wartime leader. Fuck, maybe Cameron was right. She's going to be a shit Commander for the Valmese war. That's going to suck.
"Knight Beata, Knight Maria, Knight Ilistra, Knight Verris, Knight Skyla, Knight Ressi, Knight Roseann, Knight Viera and Knight Ashiok. Naga guide their souls." Libra said gently. "Now, in memory of Gregor Cohen, Sir Julian Galipeau."
...they didn't tell me I've been knighted. Ah, well. That's not important. I took a few steps up to the podium and dragged in a deep breath.
"Gregor Cohen was my comrade in arms long before either of us joined the shepherds." I said shakily. "It was thanks to him that my friend Kylar and I even survived the first few months of our careers as mercenaries. Together, we went on many adventures, always trying to do the right thing no matter what money the bad may have brought us."
"Is good payment." Gregor grunted, glancing at the large mound of gold. "But kidnapping little girl? Is not good job."
"I'm going to have to agree with the big guy." I shrugged, loosening my axe. "Find someone else if you have to, but don't involve us."
Naturally, one of them began the 'Righteousness doesn't pay' speech we've heard a million times before, and then they attacked us.
"Four to one?" Gregor grinned as he slammed a meaty fist into the ranting man's face. "Is not good odds, no?"
"For them, anyway." I shot back.
"We...fought together many times." I said quietly. "We always had each other's backs, and Gregor paid for my stupidity with his life. He died at the battle of Ire Canyon, protecting Kylar and myself from a wind mage."
I glared out at the crowd. "It feels like I'm missing my best arm. But I'm not going to let that stop me from making sure nobody ever dies for me ever again."
I turned around and nodded at the large crypt built for the fallen. "Rest in peace, buddy."
I stepped away as Libra resumed droning, this time for a company of archers that had been ambushed in one of the many other skirmishes in the war. This is going to be a long night.
I need a drink. Thankfully, the table at the back is more than willing to oblige me.
"Nice speech." The pegasus knight snorted.
"Thanks" I drawled, pouring a cup of wine. I wish this was stronger. "This all they have?" I swung my arm around, scanning the table.
"Believe me, I looked." She snorted. "I'm Ialla."
Eh, I was close. "Julian."
Behind me, Chrom was talking about Vaike. I don't really give a fuck, to be honest. Vaike was a nice guy, but I'd rather not listen to some over-exaggerated garbage about him. No offense to Great Leader, of course, but...agh, I hate politics.
Might as well enjoy this-wait.
This doesn't smell right.
"What's wrong?" Ialla asked. "You've gone all pale."
"...fuck my life." I grumbled, before putting the glass down and shouting across the hall. "I DON'T MEAN TO ALARM ANYBODY, BUT I THINK THE WINE'S POISONED."
So, naturally, the fancy-shmancy nobles start panicking. Wonderful. I'm not cut out for this intruige bullshit.
"Are you sure?" Frederick asked, pushing through the crowds.
"Listen, pal, sir, I'm Quebecois. I know wine, and more importantly I've spent enough time in a tavern in this city to be able to tell you this ain't wine." I shoved it in his nose. "Unless you'd like me to take a sip first?"
Frederick snatched it out of my hands and took a sip himself, spitting it out immediately. "Aconite. Get the healers."
How did he..."How can you tell?" I asked, taking a few steps away from the pitchers.
"Bodyguard training leaves one with sensitive taste buds." He muttered lowly. Oh, hey, that explains how he can't even remotely stand gamey meat.
That's...actually that's a really convenient talent, not going to lie.
"What's going to happen, Frederick?" Chrom asked cautiously as he approached us.
"The healers are going to make sure nobody's been poisoned, and I'm going to get the guards and sweep the grounds." Frederick said calmly. Robin pushed his way through the rush of healers – shit, there's like, ten Annas in there. Fuck, I've still got to deal with that – and came to a panting halt next to us.
"...poison can't be the main idea." He sucked in a quick breath. "It would've been picked up sooner or later, and these guys are smarter than that."
"These guys?" I raise an eyebrow. Robin glared at me.
"The crazed cultists running around that you uncovered, do keep up." He snapped. "Frederick, don't sweep the grounds. Cover the Exalt. That's going to be their main move."
Chrom turned to glance at the high table where Emmeryn should have been. It's empty now.
TABARNAK
A/N: This is far too short, but my schedule's getting crushed to hell and I figured I might want to put SOMETHING out first.
Merde = French for 'Shit'
Tabarnak = French Canadian slang, pretty much means 'fuck'.
Don't you just fucking hate midterms sometimes?
The fact that Breaking Bad just ended didn't really help either. I was bawling. Helped with writing the memorial scene at least.