The Valentians hadn't expected another force to hit them from behind. Nor did they expect the second army to follow soon after
Where the natives had been scattered and routed by the hordes of risen that came forward, these eastern seacomers marched on undaunted. Ylissean ranks kept perfect order, pushing past every soldier who was unfortunate to cross their path. Living or undead, they fell all the same.
Stahl continued to ride with the main force, sticking a ways back from the front line. He couldn't see what was going on, but judging from the sounds and the progress they were making, they were winning.
Not long after Cordelia and Sumia left, they'd found what had already attacked the Kingdom's troops. Morgan's reports of risen were confirmed ten-fold, with a large host of the monsters stumbling their way towards them. But numbers was all they had, and Ylisse could easily counter that with steel and discipline.
During the Third Plegian War, the Grimleal had made ample use of risen in their armies. The Valentians lacked experience dealing with them, but Ylisse had more than they ever wanted. Upon seeing the risen, Ylissean soldiers simply tightened ranks and brought up their shields.
Quickly, effortlessly, the Halidom's forces were able to press through this new threat. Even when the pegasus knights flew off due to new orders, Stahl was able to lead the remaining forces on without much casualty.
Still, seeing these things again bothered him. Too many times he'd nearly been killed by the shambling terrors. Even while keeping a good distance between him and them, knowing they were around was unnerving to say the least.
Hm. The son of an apothecary, turned squire, turned Shepherd, turned 'national Hero', scared out of his skin. Maybe he was the reason why his daughter had such bad nerves. He'd always told Tharja he went into a fight thinking he'd get his lunch handed back over.
Speaking of lunch, may as well have that sandwich a bit early.
He dug around in his saddle-sack, taking out the wrapped up food and giving in a whiff. Making meals out of rations wasn't easy, but you can always make a sandwich if you've got cheese and meat. Even if the meat was salted and the cheese was stale.
As the paladin took a bite, a soldier ran up before him. The man gave him a quick salute, which Stahl awkwardly returned as he kept the sandwich held in his mouth.
"Shomting sha mattuh?" Stahl asked, mouth completely full as chewed away. The reporting soldier looked on uncomfortably, visibly disgusted at the sight. Though it didn't seem like the horseman was going to stop eating, so he may as well just say what's going on.
"Sir, the risen. They're gone." The soldier told him.
Stahl nodded, swallowing the food before he spoke again. "Is it clear for us to send the messenger?" He asked, to which the soldier nodded. "Alright, get to the cavaliers and have them ride over to the Roseannean lines. We'll keep moving, clear out the rest of the risen as we go."
As Stahl brought the sandwich back to his mouth, the soldier shook his head. "Sir, you don't understand. They're gone." He repeated, emphasizing the word.
Stahl paused, confused. The soldier turned around, waving for him to come along to the front of the line.
He had to see this for himself.
They had all fallen over like nothing, at once.
One moment, Morgan had been surrounded. Shot clean off of her mount, hitting the ground. All around her were Risen, blades drawn and spears at the ready. All she had was a tome and an arrow lodged in her shoulder. Caeda flew above, but she'd yelled at the pegasus to just stay away.
The redhead had gotten to her feet, and through the pain had activated the lightning magic. Electric daggers manifested in her hands, a trick that her father had shown her. It had been ages since she'd fought on the ground, but the girl wasn't going to lie down and take it.
As the horrors closed, she was sure it was the end. She made her final prayers, said sorry to her mother and sister, told Brady she'd miss him one last time. Their lifeless red eyes surrounded her like demented fireflies in a bleak cloud, wrapping her in darkness.
And then they stopped.
Then they fell, collapsed like ragdolls. Instantly beginning to disintegrate into clouds of smoke and ash. She didn't have to lift a finger, and yet through some divine providence, she'd been spared an early demise yet again.
Relief swept over her as quickly as the fatigue. Morgan slumped down onto the ground, stunned as she lay in the ash coated grass. Before long she was laughing, happy to have survived yet another near death experience.
Her flying friend made her way down, landing at her side with a great flourish. Immediately, the black pegasus began to nudge at Morgan's head with her snout. An action that only made the woman laugh even harder.
"Caeda. Caeda! I'm fine!" Morgan promised, still giggling as she pet her partner. The motions seemed to calm the mount down, assured that the tactician hadn't been taken from this world yet. The younger sister sat up, a jolt of pain shooting across her arm as the arrow shifted in place. Morgan yelped, hand flying up to clutch the wound. Blood continued to trickle out, straining over her glove and warming her fingers.
The black pegasus took action, lowering her head once more. This time, towards Morgan's back, hovering her mouth where the arrowhead and shaft had punctured out. Caeda then bit down half-way past, snapping the tip of the arrow off. The metal edge falling harmlessly onto the grass.
Hearing the wood break apart, Morgan grabbed the feathered end and promptly removed what remained. She gave the rear end of the shaft a smug look, before tossing it away and standing up.
"Good thing these jokers can't aim, right girl?" Morgan said, Caeda whinnying brightly as an answer. Going to her satchel case, she dug around before pulling out an elixir bottle. Twisting the cap off and taking a long sip. It tasted like burnt gruel, but the potion did it's work. The pain instantly disappeared, and the bleeding seemed to stop. Though she still had a hole in her shoulder.
Looking at what remained of the injury, Morgan frowned. "Guess I'm gonna need to head back." She deducted, not liking having to leave the field when the battle certainly wasn't over yet. But sticking in the field with only one fully functioning arm wasn't going to do anyone any good, least of all herself. Though if she was quick... the wound could probably be mended in time for her to return.
With that in mind, Morgan mounted her steed once more. A quick beckon was given, and she was in the sky.
Looking around, she realized just how far from the battlefront she'd wandered. The moment risen had been reported to her, she took off like a bolt to try and verify the claim. A mix of surprise and morbid curiosity, she'd had the hairbrained scheme of trying to capture one of them alive. Far as she knew, no one had ever even attempted such a thing. It would've been a boon to her experiments.
Probably would've had to lop off it's arms and legs, but all she needed was a functioning torso anyway.
The masks had been a great start. She was so close to successfully extracting the bug that lived inside of them. But that didn't change the fact that they knew almost nothing about risen physiology. How did they move? Was there any brain function? Were their still organs inside them? Why did they explode to dust whenever they were killed?
All of this and more drove her rampant curiosity into overdrive. Much to Blanche's dismay, but Morgan didn't really care about how a stuffy-britches like her felt on these matters. 'We can't dissect them!' The Cleric had protested loudly. 'It would be desecrating a corpse!'
...Technically she was right. And from the looks that Virion and Cherche had given her, they weren't onboard with the idea either.
Oh well, what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.
Far below, Morgan could see that the battle had reached a total standstill. Blue, purple and green clad soldiers stood in multi-colored pockets across the field. Some sticking with their countrymen, others having formed slapdash bands for the sake of survival. Now that the dust had settled, everyone seemed on the edge. Waiting for the other side to make the next move.
On the far edge, she could see a large group of Valentians withdrawing fully. Their normally proud banners now caked in earth and blood, survivors limping back. It was a sizeable mob, but most of the invading army seemed keen on holding their ground.
Whoever rallied first would probably win this fight in one fell swoop. A renewed sense of urgency spurred Morgan to pick up the pace.
Fifteen minutes of hard flying later, she landed at the line of fortifications that had been dug. A sort of staging area for their army to launch strikes from, with a long line of Roseannean militia holding guard at the front trench.
Before she landed, she saw that they were all disheveled and battered. The camp also seemed a bit worse for wear, though not routed. As soon as she dismounted, a blue cleric was already rushing to her side.
"Commander, are you alright? You've been missing for almost an hour!" The girl asked, immediately spotting the new hole in her arm. Before Morgan could protest, she was already being guided towards the small group of tents.
"I'm fine, Sarah. Really." Morgan insisted, giving the girl a half-cocked smirk. "Lemmie guess, forgot your staff again?"
"Don't start with me. Remember who writes your prescriptions." Her caretaker hummed back. "Gods' bread, Morgan. You need to stop flying off on personal errands without telling someone!"
The scolding from the other Ylissean only made Morgan's laughter restart. Which in response, made the healer release an exasperated sigh. The two entered the medical cantonment, Morgan promptly being sat down on a cot and told to sit still. She stuck her tongue out, pouted, and did as she was told.
"There's a line of messengers waiting at the command post. Colonel Picard is dealing with it, but he's rather slow." Sarah informed, taking two vials and mixing them together brusquely. Instead of going for a stave, she reached for a sewing kit, then marched back over.
Morgan groaned rather loudly. Picard was Blanche's second in command, and unlike her, he had no redeeming qualities. During this act, the cleric waved at the flier with the bottle. "Remove your clothes and lie down, I'll need to fix this the old fashioned way."
The tactician's carefree bluster left, suddenly growing nervous as she eyed the tent. There were others present, but they were all wearing Ylissean uniforms. None seemed armed either.
Catching on, her attendant sighed once more. "The only people here are members of the Expedition. Now please, undress so I can get to work."
Swallowing her qualms, Morgan did just that. She undressed down to her skin, the only article remaining above the waist were the wraps she kept around her chest. For a moment, her brand flickered to life as her nerves grew, but then returned to dormancy.
"You know those leave marks." Sarah noted, waving a finger at Morgan's chest before taking a seat on a stool next to her. "Didn't I tell you to buy proper smallclothes after the rash you got last time?"
Morgan snorted, sucking in a breath as the healer poured the potion where the hole was. It was like a cold fire, blistering and burning. "You think I'm going to fight wearing lingerie?"
"Considering the size of your assets, it might be the better alternative." Sarah muttered, not wanting to have to relive the last episode. Three days straight of applying ointment and seeing parts of her superior she rather would not have seen. "Wait, are you telling me the only bra you have is lingerie?"
"...Maybe." Morgan admitted.
"Why?" Sarah asked.
Despite herself, Morgan could feel her face glowing red. "I-it was the only thing I could buy in Roseanne! Basically all the boutiques were selling lace- wait why do I even have to explain this!?"
"I'm your doctor, remember? You always have to explain yourself to me." The healer replied dryly, wiping the excess away from the now disinfected wound. She knew that Morgan was lying through her teeth, but she didn't know nor care why.
As the Cleric took the needle and began to sew the wound shut, Morgan blew one of her own bangs out of her face. "So why's there a line of messengers waiting for me at the main tent? Shouldn't Blanche or Virion or Cherche be able to help them?"
Sarah paused in her motions, going very still as she realized Morgan hadn't been here for what had occurred. She stayed quiet, finishing up her needlework before bringing her friend up to date.
"The Brigadier is missing." As expected, Morgan instantly bolted up in the cot, eyes wide as saucers. "She lead a group of healers to the front. Something about ferrying wounded back here. They returned without her, the Risen ambushed them."
"Is she dead?"Morgan asked, growing panicked. Sure, she had her problems with her local counterpart, but she didn't want Blanche gone. Just to get her attitude checked out.
"No one knows. Her second in command refuses to send a search party." Sarah continued, starting to pack up her medical kit. "Apparently, she left contingency orders to hold the line if command was lost."
"But Viron and Cherche-"
"Were both critically injured and are both being evacuated to the Capitol as we speak." The healer said, making Morgan go quiet all over again. Silence ruled between the two. The healer finished up with her things, walking to place the back in their spots. Morgan sat in place, horrified beyond belief.
"H-how…" She started to ask.
Yet again, Sarah sighed, fatigued and disheartened. "Risen came. Rushed past our guard detail. Ignored everyone but them, then skewered them both in the command post." She explained. "It was as if the rest of us weren't even here. By the time we dispatched the group, both were bleeding out."
Storms of emotions washed over Morgan in waves. Shock, fear, terror, disgust. All coated with an anger directed at herself. She'd left on a fool's errand, having told Virion and no one else, leaving both him and Cherche behind. If she had stayed, she could have helped. If she could have helped, they could've been fine.
Through it all, she began to add it up. The Risen jumping her mid-flight. Blanche being ambushed on her trip. A strike group coming here and targeting the two leaders of this whole country. Planned, coordinated, and executed to near perfection. It was sheer luck that she survived. Lightning doesn't strike twice, let alone three times, in the same place.
The memory of Gerome and Cynthia, broken and bleeding as they arrived to Roseanne a few months ago. Now she was reliving that nightmare with two more people who meant the world to her.
...No. No, she wouldn't sit here and surrender to her own despair. Not when there was still work to be done.
Morgan stood up, dressing herself and mounting her armor on. Sarah bade her farewell as she jogged from the medical tent to the forward command post.
The cleric hadn't been kidding. A small mob of ten different soldiers were all clamoring around the clearly overwhelmed Colonel. His hands waved up and down, trying to get the group organized into some kind of fashion. Unfortunately for him, it seemed that his peers had as much respect for him as Morgan did.
As such, Morgan forcefully shoved herself into the middle of the gaggle, then grabbed the bumbling officer by the necktie.
"You have ten seconds to tell me why you haven't sent a search party." She ordered, ice dripping from each word. She pulled tighter, the man's tie very rapidly closing around his neck like a noose.
"I… I… decided it would be a misallocation of Ducal resources." Picard meekly tried to explain, easily becoming intimidated as the fire-haired woman had him in her clutches. He quickly recalled the time the foreigner had silenced an argument using a lightning spell, and very much did not want to end up like that building's roof.
"You thought it would be a misallocation to save your General?" Morgan raged, pulling his face even closer. The man kept stammering, now trying in vain to pull the tie free.
"I'm only following her orders!" Picard continued to rationalize, doing his best to weasel out of this predicament. "Miss Navarre clearly stated that if she was killed or captured, that we were to hold and repulse! And as her loyal executive, I am merely enforcing her will while she and the Ducal family is indisposed!"
The messengers were all quiet now, watching with unrestrained glee. Meanwhile Morgan was very quickly beginning to lose her patience with all of this. Picard wasn't an idiot, but he was extremely self-serving. It was an open secret that he thought he deserved to be in command over some Church woman. In fact, when Morgan was in the room as Blanche was given the job, he had stormed out. Cursing each step of the way.
Morgan just never thought he'd go as far as to try and help her get killed. It was treason, but it was treason that could easily be played off as an honest mistake.
Still, he was a liability now. One that she couldn't afford.
In a move that could only be described as 'Severa-esqe', Morgan sucker-punched the man firmly across the mouth. He staggered back, slamming into the planning table before falling onto the grass. Picard didn't move, out like a light.
Morgan rubbed her gloved knuckles, looking over her shoulders to the shocked guards. "Kindly escort the Colonel back to base-camp. He's clearly indisposed."
The two men looked at one another, one nodding before the came over and took the unconscious man by each arm. He was dragged away like a common criminal, out of sight and hopefully out of mind for the rest of the day.
Now being the only voice that mattered, Morgan turned around. She spoke sternly, trying to imitate her mother when she gave orders to the Knights back home. Shoulder straight, stance firm. Asserting her authority in the vacuum while she still could.
She hoped none of them could sense how scared she was under all of the bravado.
Of all the situations she'd survived, this was the first time in years Blanche had ever been scared.
She hadn't felt fear when the Church lead the march against the Risen seven years ago. There she'd fought through far more hordes of the undead, combing through destroyed and slaughtered towns by the dozens. No, then she only felt anger and hatred for Grima.
She hadn't felt fear in Fort Stieger, when the resistance member had lodged that spear into her side. All she had felt then was anger as well, along with a rush of energy that had ended with her lopping the poor dastard's head off. A churning bloodlust for all who dared stand against Walhart, particularly once she'd heard Virion was part of the attack.
No. The last time she'd truly felt afraid was when the Conqueror first came to Roseanne. While she hid in the city's cathedral, shepherding civilians inside as a safe haven from the missles and trebuchets that fell onto them. Flaming arrows and boulders reducing much of the city to rubble, bodies lining the streets and soldiers going from building to building hunting down anyone who dared to fight back.
This situation had been an unwelcome refresher.
Blanche had been marching through the woods for a while now, having cut her way through the Risen who'd dare attack her men. She had bought them time to flee, but in the process had cut off her own path to rejoin them. So instead, she'd run in the opposite direction.
Right into a Valentian column. The only plus side was that they were easier to kill than the Risen.
Now she marched through the forest, covered in ash and blood. Her axe gleamed grimly in the sunlight, red having baked itself into the steel. Each step she took left a clear trail behind her, leading back to the massacre she'd carried out.
It was no wonder that even more Valentians found her once more. This time surrounding the War Cleric, forming a box in the trees around her with arrows nocked. She stood firmly in the middle, axe not leaving her grasp. Every inch of her being told her this was it, this was the end. And in her mind, Blanche knew she wasn't ready.
But that wasn't what scared her. The sound of clunking steel is what sent a chill down her spine.
A tall, dark man in green general's armor came forward. In one hand was a long poleaxe, the other a battered shield that had seen more action than most people would witness in their lives. His face was marred with scars and burns, each one a mark of someone's failure to put him six feet under.
The towering behemoth stopped ten paces in front of her, staring her down. Like a statue casting a long shadow over an ant.
"Blanche." The man spoke, his voice like an earthquake.
"Maddox." The cleric answered, tightening her grip.
"Here I thought we were on a first name basis." The General commented, letting his sheild fall and dig a small crevace into the dirt with the force of gravity alone. "How long has it been?"
"Two years, at the Conclave's summit." Blanche recalled, posture unchanging.
"Hrm. Feels longer." Maddox said, taking in his opponent's battle-hardened apperance. "I thought you'd given up on killing."
Blanche grunted, blowing away some crimson dribble from her mouth. "Well, Linus, you forced me out of retirement. Just be glad I let them most of them run."
The man grunted. "They're going to need therapy after what they saw you do."
"Like these archers will, when I'm done with you?" Blanche taunted, faking bravery in the face of a man who she knew could kill her.
"I'm not here to fight." He said, spinning his weapon before slamming the spear into the ground. He then released his grip on both items, letting them remain as they were while he went forward. "I'm here to talk about the letter."
The Cleric's stance tensed even more, her axe coming up as the man encroached. "You recived orders as well?"
"I did. Every one of their Knights has." Maddox informed, holding place as he saw the weapon raise. "I just need an answer, then I'll let you leave."
"Not even taking me prisoner?" She asked, not believing it.
"They still think we can solve this diplomatically." He clarified.
Blanche laughed, short and sharp. It scratched like a cough coming out of her lungs. "You're invading my home. What kind of mad diplomacy is this!?"
"That was Albein's doing. I'm in formally his service, just like how you're in Virion's." Maddox explained, drawing the obvious parallel of their positions. "Though I'm surprised, considering how badly you wanted to kill him."
"We reached an understanding." Blanche said. "One that makes me question why the Conclave would go against Tiki's instruction."
"She's been overruled." He informed.
"Overruled? The daughter of Naga?" Blanche repeated, instantly calling his bluff. This was absurd, the idea that a demi-god's word could matter less than a counsel of old windbags who never left the Mila Tree. "You're joking."
"I wouldn't be following through with this if I was joking." The General assured, resolute in his words. "She's been overruled."
"By who?" Blanche demanded.
"The only one who can overrule her."
That information made Blanche break her stance. Her arms dropped to her sides, axe still clutched tightly in hand. The cleric's couldn't believe it, if it had been anyone else saying it, she wouldn't. All the while, Maddox stomped forward until he was right before her.
"I need an answer." He repeated for the final time.
"It's not possible." Blanche asked, voice small and unsure.
"Do you really think I'd be risking this if it wasn't true?" He observed. "They've already given him the relic. I saw him use it with my own eyes."
It was impossible. Never in a million years did she think this would happen. But these past few months had been a return to the impossible. With the Risen, the two Fellblood girls and these new wars. Everything was changing once more, just as it had when Grima had been resurrected.
The Cleric sheathed her weapon, her hands unclenching. The fear only grew, spreading from her spine and digging into her soul.
Blanche knew the man before her well. She knew he wouldn't lie about something this serious.
Which meant she only had one choice.
Cordelia sat next to her daughter's unconscious body, sending a prayer to every God and Goddess she knew.
As Severa had flown back out of the tunnel, there had been a pulse of energy. It blew outwards, expanding in every direction before sucking itself back into the staff. Her pegasus had caught itself mid-fall, but not in time to catch it's rider as well. That duty had been hers, flying downwards and plucking her child from the sky before she became a red smear on the forest floor.
The Captain didn't know what Severa had done. Only it's repercussions.
She'd returned to the farmstead as fast as Aurora could fly, both of them landing to be greeted by Gwen and the same two soldiers who had welcomed them at the beginning. The two had panicked as they saw Severa's birthmark burn through her glove, but Gwen had quickly silenced their fears. Together, they rushed her inside, setting her in a cot within the count's office next to Gwen's plunder.
Outside, the country girl could be heard talking to the two soldiers.
"Listen tuh me." Gwen said, staring both of her juniors down. "Neither of y'all are gonna say a thing about that mark, got it?"
Claudette and Connor looked to one another, neither comfortable with this new information about their old Captain or this situation as a whole. But Gwen quickly snapped her fingers, drawing their attention back to her.
"Look, I know yer both nervous. I was too when I found out." She continued, before stepping to the side and pointing through the door where Severa and Cordelia lay behind. "But that woman's led us through hell and back. She came out here tuh save us when anyone else woulda written us off fer dead."
The two militia members kept quiet, neither sure if they should speak up next. In truth, they didn't know what to do even if they wanted to tell someone. And both of them knew what would likely happen if the fallen flier was found out.
Besides, they were scared of the mark, but they weren't scared of Severa. She'd more than earned their trust.
"We won't tell a soul." Connor promised.
"I'm honestly going to try and forget I saw anything." Claudette followed up.
Gwen chortled. "Yeah, good luck with that." The hayseed noted, when she saw four figures marching towards them in the hallway. Caeldori was at the front, leading what seemed to be three other pegasus knights.
Connor and Claudette saw the oncoming entourage, and decided it was time for them to leave. Both soldiers moved down the hall, traversing around the fliers and returning to their posts.
"Lemmie guess. More Ylisseans?" Gwen asked as Caeldori and her company arrived. Carefully, she took in the new arrivals' appearances.
Two were falcon knights, wearing similar uniforms to the Volkners. The white haired one kept a horned visor on her head, while the onyx haired woman had a blue cape hanging off her left shoulder. Between them was a strawberry blonde woman wearing strangely unarmored outfit, two shields hanging off her hips along with a pair of tomes.
"They're here to help guide everyone back." Caeldori told her, nervously peering into the room that Gwen was guarding.
Getting the hint, Mire pushed the door open and cleared the way. "Well, go on. I'll get everyone ready tuh march."
The three women went inside, but Caeldori remained where she was. "I'll help you. I've done all I can for Minerva."
"Can it move?" Gwen asked, prefering to keep distance away from things that could breathe fire. De-winged or not, wyverns still weirded her out.
"She can walk. And she'll be able to carry those who cannot." Caeldori corrected, a spike of annoyance filling her breast. For the past half-hour she'd been jumping between healing the poor beast and consoling Gerome. Both had taken her full attention, and both had left her emotionally drained. Not even counting what had happened to her mother.
Gwen folded her arms over her chest, then shook her head. Reading people was a skill she'd picked up back when she stole for a living, and Caeldori read like someone who was in deep need of a break. "Go rest. I'll handle it when they're done."
"But-"
"Looie, please." Gwen insisted. "All due respect, but you look like dogshit. If anythin' you should be restin' more than half of us. So stop bein' such a friggen' martyr and take a break fer once."
Caeldori stood still, trying to form a protest, but not able to do so. She was tired, and she was hungry. Her grandmother had already assured her that everything was fine, and though she wanted to be with her mother now, the room was already quite occupied.
"...Thank you, Gwendolyn." Caeldori said, grateful for the concern.
"Mmhm. Now, let's go get some grub. There's turkey legs with my name on'em, and I'm willin' tuh share." Gwen informed, making a spinning motion with her finger. Caeldori smirked, turning and leaving the door with the local following behind.
After all of this, a little rest would do everyone good.
A/N: Originally this was supposed to be a 2K long blurb to post a few days after the last chapter, but it grew into a full blown installment. Oh well.
o/