As the council of the Nabateans sat down, Tathre looked around. Several things were rushing through his head. Besides the general administration of Nabatean people in Zanado, they came across one major problem. Camouflage protection, phantom troops patrols, and agriculture. But now, they're confronted with one of the largest issues. A band of bandits crossed through their barriers, beaten their troops, and camped themselves outside of their hidden village.
How these group of humans found them was beyond imagining, but they came asking for aid.
Their people were split. As tradition dictated, a majority rule before any major actions were done for their people. They were family, the only ones left following Mother's sleep, and Great Draco-Wars. There was always the prospect of finding a mate among the humans, but many decided to abstain from their kind. Cichol was not one of them. Yet, his daughter Cethleann was born as Nabatean as well. A new blood was born into the world. But perhaps that was too risky.
Regardless, those two could not make it. Cichol abstained from the vote. Cethlean was too young for any administrative decisions, and abstained as well.
Thus, they were marked as 'Against'.
With every major counted Nabatean at the table their leader, he spoke. The eldest of the Children commanded a presence equal to the youngest and the last of mother's direct blood. "The Council of Zanado shall continue. As the votes have come to twenty-two to five, we will allow the five who wanted to join these humans to speak their mind."
This was the way, allowing catharsis between those who disagreed.
The first one, Bres stood up. "I fail to see why we are hiding in the shadows, waiting for the enemy to come to our gates. The moment they find us, we'll be trapped in our valley. Perhaps indefinitely."
"And thus, we'll be safe."
"This is now how we should live." He rebuked. "Look at us. What we are doing. Are we not Nabateans? The luminous sun from which all civilization of this land blossom?"
Baler the second, spoke. "That was a long time ago." His voice ancient and gravelly. It's what gave him the title 'Smasher'. "These humans, no matter what era or time, are all the same. Monstrous creatures of weak bones and pale skin, grand in numbers."
"And yet, here we are, imitating their form." Eithniu rolled her eyes.
"Quiet."
The air constantly shifted. Ancient magics from a begone era seeping through word and emotion. Hot air immediately cooled by another's power. Even the shadows and wood felt alive, twisting and turning against the might of their powers.
"Eithniu," Tathre continued. "Are you too one of the members that voted to intervene? What say you?"
Bres took his seat again as Eithniu stood up. "Think about the potential. If we charge into battle against the beings, we can set those old rumors. Be hailed as heroes of Fódlan. No longer will we need to hide."
"And what of escalation?" Another Nabatean asked. "We march into battle; these beasts will adapt. The Great War shown their ability to adapt at a frightening pace."
"Those people are dead."
"Says you."
Shouts erupted in the room. Tathre sunk his body into the chair, letting the family argue once more. They were Children of the Goddess no doubt. Magic flinging like some human food fight. Thinking of the humans, his thoughts returned to his brother Cichol. While he found a mate, it was by chance. One human that decided to stay with him for as long as she did. Then she was inducted by the family, taking his blood.
Macuil was furious, storming out of the room, only to return to see their child.
He said it was a one-time deal. To find love in the most unusual of places. Perhaps they too needed to expand. These days, finding company was hard. Everybody knew everybody, family was known.
But Baler was correct. Exposing themselves to the world if these humans were anything like their ancient enemies, would they come with bow and sword? Yes, these were nothing compared to the weapons of the past, but it wouldn't mean it wouldn't hurt. These humans were adapting faster than before.
As for their ancient enemy, there was always a feeling that the shadows were walking. Knifes in the dark, speaking in archaic tongues of a world long dead. Was it paranoia? He couldn't tell.
There were nights when he saw the sky ignited into a sea of flames. Earth reduced to charred remains, and oceans evaporated into nothing.
The argument continued. This was getting nowhere, and the room was getting stuffy. Tathre skirted around the family. There was one person who tried stay away from the rest of the family matters. A young woman, keeping to herself and a small white flower she tended.
"Rhea." He asked, tapping her shoulder. She nearly hopped out of her seat, seeing him.
"T-Tathre, I didn't see you."
"Come, let us leave them to argue about themselves."
"But aren't they...?" Rhea ducked under a lobbed cup. "Right. Let's leave."
Sneaking out of the room, the oldest and the youngest smiled at each other. Laughing, enjoying the levity of it all. No matter what, they were family. Family stayed together, no matter what.
"Rhea, walk with me." He turned. "I saw your vote to join the humans in their fight."
"Yes. I wanted to help them."
"But why?" He asked. "You know of the direct history between us and the humans. What happened in that war. So why join this fight? How is it any different than any other war they wage?"
"Because…" She paused, collecting her words. "Because mother did the same. After the war, she healed this world. In the end, it was the humans that repopulated it. She gave them a second chance. Why should we be any different?"
That sweet nativity. She spoke like mother's warm heart. Always watching, but never intervening unless the world itself was at stake.
She truly was Sothis's favorite. "Yet, you heard their arguments."
"And I still believe we should do the same. Even if that enemy is out there, we can't just sit here. Mother wouldn't want us to recede from the world."
"Even if that world rejects us?"
"It'll only reject us once we stop."
Baler nodded, looking at the rest of their village. Perhaps, one day. Perhaps Rhea will be the salvation for them all…
-.-.-
Serios rubbed her eyes, leaning up from her makeshift bed. Various bumps and rocks on the rock made her jitter back up. She has long since gained the reputation of a living Saint. A reputation propagated and only slightly exaggerated by Wilhelm.
Through him, Serios was gaining renown. Localized but spreading. When Wilhelm first announced his support for her, she immediately fled back into the temple, tossing herself into the bed. It was beyond embarrassing, even if the people of the city clapped. They all knew her, and that just made things worse.
But as all things, they were ending.
Wilhelm's Consulship retirement was coming. With that, they were searching for another person to fill in. But the people under him were not completely up to the task. In fact, a few wanted him to stay just a little bit longer.
As for the rest of the Fódlan Empire, the various territories were left to wage war or settle agreements between one another. While he was an admirable military leader, the territories Chatti surrounded them.
Seeing the surrounding territories as threats to their own sovereignty, Wilhelm launched an invasion against them. But they were getting bogged down. Casualties were piling on both sides, and Wilhelm was getting impatient.
Serios said they had the blessings of the Goddess behind them, but with an ever-growing counter-offensive, the army of Enbarr was bleeding.
That is where Serios and the rest of her family were heading to. The borders between both territories.
Amid the forestry and fields, Wilhelm's base was neatly organized. Nearby villages offered the soldiers meals and spare food they could give for war beasts. Minor shrines were erected for prayers to the gods.
Indech nervously played with a small flower piece he had. "Aaah, I hate all these crowded places."
"It's for a few days." Macuil snorted. "After this silly bout we can head home."
Serios looked over to Cichol and Cethleann, the father and daughter duo. Cethleann was young, a pre-teen by human standards. Their mother remained in Enbarr, keeping their home tidy. Somebody needed to keep the people welcomed in their prayers. A warm and loving family, even going into a warzone. Cichol lightly bopped his daughter's nose to her displeasure. She huffed, turning away.
Arriving where they needed to be, Serio was the first one off the carriage. The camp was spaced, tents pitched up around with soldiers patrolling, eating and chatting. She searched for the main tend. It was fairly obvious, being the biggest one there.
Several soldiers turned their heads. Awe-struck and mouths agape, their superiors smacked them, getting them back to their duties. As always, they showed the typical human nature: Violent and aggressive.
Arriving at the tent, two men stood on guard. Spears crossed before the entrance as Serios glared. "I have an appointment with Consul Hresvelg."
One of them looked over, scurrying into the tent for a moment. She heard Wilhelm's voice, irate from the constant scouting reports. Finally, the guard returned as they opened up the tent. All of them stepped inside.
A rather spartan setup with a standard bed and carpeting. For a Consul, he lived rather sparingly, just like his house in Enbarr.
Besides Wilhelm was another woman. Iris Hevring, a rising companion of sorts. She was rather sleepy-eyed, a war scholar and inventor of the Empire. Currently, she was looking into ways to improve armor, but nothing has come up thus far.
Sadly, Wilhelm leaned hard into the table, propping himself up by his arms. Before him laid an entire map of the local region. Oblong pillars were placed about the map, colored red and green. The green pillars were numerous over the red, but they had the advantage of a high ground.
"If we take the left flack, it may be better…" Iris yawned.
"But they've got the numbers to swarm us down. Even with our advantage, we are out-numbered 4-to-1."
"With their numbers, I'm surprised they haven't decided to sneak a few to disrupt our supply lines."
"Do you think bandits will swoop down like a bunch of barbarians on our soldiers?"
"People will try anything these days." He sighed, pulling himself back up. Rubbing his hand over his face, he looked back to Iris. "You're dismissed, I've got some guests to talk with."
"As you will." She bowed, heading to leave. Curious eyes looked the family, but she snorted and hurried off.
"Serios. Welcome to the camp. There… there isn't much." Wilhelm finally addressed them with open arms.
"I see that you've carried yourself well on this campaign." Serios smiled. "I heard there was a rat problem as well."
The man scowled. "Disgusting little creatures. Give them too much and they'll grow to enormous sizes."
The last of the Nabateans laughed. "Haa, the Consul of Enbarr is scared of a few mice?"
"There's a difference! Rats are fat and disgusting. Mice are cute!"
Macuil coughed, arms behind his back. He was getting impatient with their lollygagging.
"Yes, Wilhelm. We're hear for support. Tending to the wounded, moral support from the Goddess."
"I mean, that's good and all but," He motioned to the map, "This battle coming up, I'm not seeing it ending in anything bout a rout against us."
"Have you considered backing down?" Cichol asked.
"What? After invading their territory, finding that they were more than willing to fighting us? I wouldn't doubt they did that just to provoke us." He sighed. "Scouts came back, saying more troops of theirs are coming. If we don't capitalize here, they'll march to Enbarr."
"Are you planning to die on the battlefield?" Serios frowned.
"It's a good death." He admitted. "Please. Attend to whatever you wish here. I'll have another carriage ready to evacuate you out of harm's way."
Macuil and Indech moved to the opening. Cichol and Cethleann bowed their heads. Serios however remained in the tent, unmoving. Her eyes closed, a decision made in a split second.
"Wait, my friend." She spoke. They stopped.
"I have received a revelation from the Goddess."
Wilhelm blinked. Serios went over to the map. "If you are to achieve victory here, you must order your army to paint this symbol on their shields."
With a stroke of ink, the Nabatean drew lines. An oval, like an egg top, enclosing around twin-pronged fork and a semi-closed circle. Almost like a symmetrical stylized leaf. Macuil's eyes widened, fangs lengthening in his mouth.
"This is…"
"A symbol of Goddess, one of many. If you paint these, no harm shall come to those soldiers. And especially, you."
Wilhelm tilted his head, eyes narrowing for a moment. Watchful orbs looked at Serios then her family. He shrugged. "I suppose we've got nothing to lose with such a venture. It will be done."
"One more thing, Wilhelm. For this protection, I will need to see you at night. It requires a… special ritual."
He raised an eyebrow. "If any other woman asked that of me, I'd suspect a travelling brothel."
Serios puffed her cheeks, crossing her arms. "How dare you!"
He laughed, "Call it payback from the rat comment. But if that's required, then very well. I accept. The guards will let you in."
-.-.-
Deep in the end, Serios snuck around the camp. Small campfires luminating the land. She looked to the distance and saw other burning lights. They far outnumbered them. Sentries continued their routes, making sure to rotation between shifts. Passing through tents and makeshift chairs, she continued towards Wilhelm's tent.
"May I ask what you're doing?"
She nearly shrieked, backing up. It was Macuil, eyes glaring, and arms crossed.
"What do you mean?"
"That. Your blood. That power…" He warned. "What do you think you're doing?"
"I'm giving him victory to further his ambitions."
"You are giving him an easy way out. If these humans are truly worthy of our investment, they will win this battle without our aid."
"And then what? Rebuilding ourselves for the next person to get close? Have their ambitions be used?"
"If necessary, yes." He huffed. "You have no idea what giving this human your blood can do."
"It won't be any different from Nemesis and his cohort."
"So you say!" The Wind Caller walked to Serios, inching closer with every step. Weight dropped in every turn, a small gust of wind pushing. "One Crest bearer will not be enough against our stolen brethren."
"One is more than enough."
"You say this, their armies outmatching this pathetic little province. He's using you."
"And we are using him!" She growled. "Mutual relationship."
"Don't give me that, little spawnling. You may be the youngest, perhaps even the favorited daughter, but that does not mean we are blinded by age. I've seen it in your face. Your stance, the way you laugh.
"You like this human."
She scoffed. "What of it? Wilhelm's different."
"Are you going to make a decision based on the delusions of a young girl? A savior?" He warned. "We Nabateans have lived on this earth for far longer than any other creature of these lands. Be careful, for the smallest pushes, the tiniest actions may have greater repercussions than you know. Or can see."
"This isn't the pantheon, save your sermons there, Old Draft."
Macuil shook, binding his teeth. Hands curling into fists, charged with a hurricane's might. But he let go. He wouldn't dare hit her. Family was family, and they were all they had left.
"Very well. Go. Do whatever. Do as you please. I'll stay we have Nemesis's head on a pike, but once that is done, I'll no longer set foot on these lands."
Serios returned an irritated head twitch. Always with her older siblings, constantly babying her like some child. Yes, she's mother's favorite, what of it? The last of the Nabatean race. There will be another dawn for them.
As he turned away, he continued. "But remember this, little spawnling. When this is no longer the case, you'll see a world very different for all of us. We Nabateans are long-lived."
He turned away, walking back to his tent. "But these humans are not."
The last of the Nabateans, born of the progenitor, she is the One…
watch?v=f7fjwfjY7dQ