Chapter 48: Undying Suspicion

By SodiumChlouride12, derived from Fire Emblem, owned by Nintendo.

A/N: Yeah, sorry about putting this out a day late. We got stranded somewhere in Montana, but on the bright side now I have plenty of inspiration for another snow episode. It's a shame I won't have another chance to write one of those until later...

Samuel and Lyn are going to find themselves in some conflict. Both with themselves and forces of evil lurking about. Look out for that. When faced with this adversity, both may find it neccessary to make some...dubious decisions.

N: Sometimes, we find ourselves lost in a prison inside our own mind. To escape is outside the realm of reality...but to stay spells nothing but misery. Where else can we find the key, except among the possession of our own wills?

Dreamscape...

This place...

I've been here before...

Am I...dreaming?

I was in the all-to-familiar void, a place between the spiritual and physical realms of our world. I had reached here because of my special carrier ability, which allowed me to access the void at random during my dreams. Usually, my presence here came at the precipice of some grander purpose...a purpose I was still unsure of.

Why am I here?

In the past, my experiences here had mixed results. My first encounters with Nergal were deadly and nearly resulted in my demise, but they also had the side-effect of severing any connection I still had with my evil creator. Later on, I received dreams warning me of future dangers, got imprisoned for making a deal with a demon, and fought that after-mentioned demon in a battle to the death. Fortunately, most if not all of those events turned out well for me, though any of those experiences could have easily went south if I allowed it to...

Proceed with caution, Sam. This may be a dream, but if you die here, you die for real.

I think that, but even I knew assumptions like those where shoddy at best. I've "died" many times here, especially when reliving traumatic experiences. To be honest, I wasn't exactly sure what the rules of this realm were, which isn't surprising since neither the laws of nature nor religion apply here. It appeared that the rules changed in every instance like a toxic high-school relationship, and I'm helpless to do anything but come along for the ride.

I still don't want to put myself in any unnecessary danger. There's no telling if I can still feel pain...

That attitude turns out to be proven right, and the surrounding darkness morphs just as it always did. The pitch black sky transforms into a low ceiling full of a gray tiles, and the floor turns hard with concrete. The wide open space closes around me into a series of cubicle-like rooms, easily replicating into a quasi-asylum environment. The few furnishing decorating the dim rooms were an assortment of office chairs, medical equipment, and several cots. The whole place had an overwhelming cold and depressing aura about it...and I'm filled with a sense of dread.

What is this place?

The room I'm in is a mental patient's living quarters, a horrible-looking structure with cracked walls, little to no furnishing besides a lone cot, and a complete absence of natural light. The lack of windows suggested that I was underground, and the blown-out door made me think this "asylum" had since been abandoned. The choking silence helped reinforce the latter belief...though that didn't explain the white hospital garb draped over my body.

Okay...this is weird.

Figuring I had nothing to lose, I walked out through the front door and found myself in a former "living area" that once housed the recreational activities of this asylum's patients. There was a stained, old sofa leaned against the stone wall, and a solitary blown-out television standing atop a stool with only two legs. Tucked away by the phone line was a window that served as the medicinal dispensary, though the nurse that manned that station was nowhere to be found...

This is creepy...

The whole place is colder than a midwestern winter, and my body shivers uncontrollably. I tuck my garb closer to conserve more heat, but the fabric is too thin to do much to help. My breathing condenses like a puff of wintered smoke, and I'm left scrambling for all and any sources of external heat.

It's...really cold. I need to start a fire or find myself a blanket.

Fortunately, my solution wasn't difficult to find. It came in the form of a damaged chimney tucked away by the after-mentioned television, and its pit was clean for use. There was no firewood in sight, but I spotted a pile of broken furniture nearby.

I can use this. It won't be as good as actual firewood, but at the very least I can avoid frostbite.

Working quickly, I created a tiny pyramid from the scrap wood. I search the whole compound for a pair of matches, of which I found inside the nurse's drawer alongside her pack of cigarettes. I discarded the latter and took the former...

...!

The fire burns bright in the dark room. It coats the gray walls with a layer of gold, and my skin radiates with life as the heat brought upon comforting energy. Elated with my work, I take a seat on a rusted sofa and pondered my next move.

Hm...so what now?

"What do you think you're doing?"

Turning around, I noticed that I was not alone in the compound. Standing directly across from me was a man wearing a thick leather jacket, black gloves, thick woolen pants, and a short-brimmed hat. His face hid behind a large porcelain bird mask, and his cane was...disturbingly bloodied. I can only assume that he'd used it to bludgeon some poor soul.

This man...he looks dangerous. Why does he remind me of Doctor Swift?

Doctor Swift is the physician who treated me of my wounds after the final battle in Caelin. He was an arrogant, but kind man. He'd never walk around with a bloodied weapon like that, much less speak to me in a threatening manner.

Yet, here he is doing just that.

I said, "I could say the same for you, Doctor. What are you doing in my dream? Shouldn't you be in Caelin?"

The man doesn't flinch when I mention Caelin. In fact, he didn't react at all. He continues to stare at me from the comfort of his porcelain mask, a mask I just now realized was slowly contorting into a nightmare-ish version of itself.

He said, "Caelin? What is a Caelin? I'm here at the compound for a grand reason, young man. To cure the Pestilence...a vile disease that tears through man."

"The Pestilence?"

He's not referring to the bubonic plague...is he?

I didn't realize it yet, but this man and Dr. Swift...were two very different people. I should've caught on with his voice, he spoke in a manner that was much more ominous and mysterious than that Caelic professional.

He replied, "The bubonic plague? The Pestilence is the Pestilence. It's very important I continue my research here so I can defeat that disease once and for all. My peers here appear to have the same intentions, and they've graciously allowed me a human subject at last."

Human subject?!

I jump from the sofa and take a step back. The plague doctor doesn't move, but shifts his head like a painting in a haunted house.

I said, "W-What do you mean, doctor? What are you planning on doing to me? Is this not an asylum, a place to heal mental ailments? If I'm following correctly, you make it sound like the Pestilence is a biological pathogen."

"..."

The "Doctor" says nothing. I didn't know what was more unsettling, the consuming silence...or the hand gradually making its way to my throat.

I need to get out of here!

I turn to run, and I flee as far away as I could. I round the corner until I find a pair of large double doors, but before I could open them...

!

A hand firmly locks my ankle. It felt slimy and dead, much like the walker hands I'd felt in Swampmarsh. Looking down, I realize it was something much, much worse.

It was a morph, a being who biologically is not much different from myself. However, as its golden eyes locked on with mine...I cruelly realize that this morph was a distorted mess of science. It was bald and genderless...resembling more reptilian than humanoid. The being's pale skin is completely naked, save for a patch that read the numbers "046-2".

I try to pull away, but it was futile. He keeps me immobilized by the door as the "Doctor" got closer and closer, even as I tried to kick this monstrosity to get it to loosen its grip.

!

He grabs me by the throat, and an immobilizing burning sensation entrapped me. The closest thing I could compare it too was drinking the strongest proof bourbon known to man, but even that was a soft description. In reality, the feeling was more akin to consuming a hill of fire ants...

I can't breathe...

His grip was by no means forceful, but I was still powerless against it. I could feel the life drain from my body, and the world around me turned into a haze...

He said, "Yes...I will cure you of the Pestilence. I will cure you like I did with him."

With him?

My eyes widen with horror. Was...that morph his own creation? Is that mass of quintessence a former human who had befallen into whatever "cure" this maniac had in mind? Would I...turn into that?

"Mwahahaha! With this subject, my research will be complete!"

As the doctor's laugh permeated through the building, a blinding light shot through my eyesight metal escaping through a wind tunnel. It was at this moment that I realized I would not die today...

It was there, trapped within the jaws of deaths that I found my escape. I...

Woke up...

That morning, about an hour before dawn...

I open my eyes welcomed by familiar darkness, though this time the void wasn't absolute. Isolated particles of light bled through the canvas of my ceiling, and the sight is pleasing enough to produce one, anxiety-filled sigh.

I said, "That was some dream. It was so vivid too, it's been a while since I've been hit one of those. I wonder if it means anything..."

I stretch and get up to begin my day. After a nightmare like that, I doubted I'd be able to go back to sleep, so I figured it'd be better to spend this time running some errands I'd been putting off. I leave my tent with my pair of journey boots and stretch a little bit to loosen up my lame ankle.

Better start off with a little bit of yoga. Elimine forbid I aggravate this thing again...

"Hey Lieutenant Vacia! Good morning!"

I flinch and rest my hand over my fire tome. Given the dream I just had, I was ready to nuke whatever play-do looking mofo was about to violate my eyeballs.

But...that was unnecessary. The voice came from Hector, the younger brother of my employer and newest addition to our army.

Hector is a large man with broad shoulders and an intimidating set of armor to boot. He's a childhood friend of Eliwood, though it's clear to me he's the rougher, more vulgar part of the pair. He joined us yesterday after hearing word of his friend's journey, and he arrived just in time to rescue our group from destruction at the hands of those bandits. I met him after the fact, and we shook hands once it became clear we'd start working together for a while.

Still, I don't know how I feel about the guy. Although I appreciate the upfront attitude of this noble, he's still insanely stubborn and rash...more so than Lyn ever was. I feel like this is the type of wanna-be-hero who'd involve himself (and us) in a fight we had no business involving ourselves, so I made sure to keep mental tabs on him anytime we had a meeting. It was a thankless burden I forced myself to take on, but as the group's tactician I had the responsibility to ensure all of our personalities meshed well with one another. I consider this a very important job for the continued wellness of our growing army.

If only I had a say in who we can bring in here. In an ideal world, I'd screen everybody before they'd even get involved with us. Fighting the enemy is hard enough, we shouldn't be fighting amongst ourselves in top of that.

I try to set up an interview with every new trainee the morning after they'd joined us. I've already spoken to Rebecca, Eliwood, Marcus, and the others...but now I had more recruits on our plate. I need to interview fo- I mean three people ASAP; Matthew is unnecessary since he's already well acquainted with my new identity.

Might as well get started with Hector...

I said, "Good morning, Hector. Erm...you got a minute? If it's alright with you, I'd like to conduct a brief interview. Just something for me to start a profile on you."

Hector replied, "Eh? An interview? What in blasted hell is that?"

Mental note: Hector's never had an interview before. Initial impressions suggest that he's lacking the finesse most people in the noble class possess...

I said, "It's just where we sit down for a few minutes and I ask you some questions. They won't be too hard, I promise. I'd like to...gauge you as a human being."

He asked, "It won't get in the way of my morning training, will it?"

Puzzled, I raise my brow. It was a good thing there was only a half moon in the sky, otherwise Hector would've seen it.

I said, "You...you train at this time of day? Won't the lack of light hinder your workout?"

He replied, "Nope, I make do with moonlight. Besides, isn't that the reason you're awake too?"

"To train?"

"Yeah."

I chuckled, "Heavens no. The only reason I wake up at this hour is because I have trouble sleeping."

Upon hearing that, Hector puffs up his cheeks and squeezed them with his hands. He looked ridiculous, no different than a poorly executed joke at the hands of a pre-schooler...

He said, "Awww...you poor baby. Did my wittle boy have a night terror?"

?

Slightly irritated, I said, "Just sit down and lemme interview you before I get some magic practice in..."

Whether it be his appreciation of my dank humor, or some unexpressed fear for my fire tome, he agrees and together we take a seat by the now extinguished campfire. Its smoldering embers were like a lone candlelight amidst a sea of darkness, and I take the opportunity to strengthen it by throwing in a slab of firewood.

I said, "So, I take you and Eliwood are good friends? Where did you meet...?"

I learn that the two men met at a young age. It was a story taken straight from a poetic epic where they came across each other during an annual meeting between all the Lycian lords...

The oath of rites...

Many years ago...

It's winter in Ostia. Snow falls through the mountainous landscape, and the countryside is barren of all activity. A few souls scurry through the streets of town as they attempt to the warmth of their homes...but no one pays any mind to the routine ceremony taking place in Castle Ostia. Nobody, but the Lycian lords and their children...

Children wait impatiently on a round table inside of a well-furnished room. They were the offspring of the Lycian marquesses reaffirming their vows in the annual oath of rites, a ceremony where each man individually recounted their support for the alliance. It was a fairly trivial and tedious affair, but the importance of the events still necessitated the presence of every ruling family in Lycia. Everybody from the wives to the lords themselves loathed the event…especially so by their children.

Eliwood takes a deep breath as he silently listens to his father recite the ancient oath through the door. It was a phrase born out of a language long since made obsolete by the sands of time, and the soothing tongue makes the young boy lose some of his composure as his head slowly droops towards the table...

"Hmph! Enough of this!"

Eliwood is abruptly brought back to reality as a peer jumps onto the table with a knife in his right hand. The red-haired lad recognizes him as the only child of Marquess Laus, the bombastic Erik.

He said, "I'm tired of sitting here and doing nothing! We ought to make our own oath, one much more binding than the spelling bee our fathers are conducting right now! Come, join me as we create a pact much stronger than words!"

Erik concludes his fiery speech by lightly cutting the palm of his hand. He then passes his knife to the girl next to him, who shrugs her shoulders and followed suit...

Present...

I look at Hector with a face somewhere in between the realm of disgust and disbelief.

I said, "That sounds nasty as hell."

"Shut up and let me finish. I'm about to reach the good part."

Eliwood feels a sting of pain as the blade penetrated his skin. He didn't really understand why he and the other kids had to this...but Erik was far too influential with the others for him to say no. Besides, even with the pain he still felt a sense of comaraderie with his peers, and this would be an excellent bonding moment for the future leaders of this nation.

Erik looks on approvingly as they returned the knife to him. Eliwood was the last one with a clean hand, and now they can proceed with the new and improved ceremony.

Gathering the attention of the other children, he exclaimed, "Now! Let us join hands in strengthening our pact among the Lycian nobility! We will not stop by merely doing this with words. May the blood we spill now keep this alliance together for another millennium!"

The crowd of Lycian lordlings erupt with approval, and Erik shakes the hand of marquess Ryerde's first-born. Everyone else follows suit, though Eliwood hesitated. This ultimately turned out to be an unwise decision, and potential partners disappeared like snow at the turn of winter.

Drat...I shouldn't have devolved into cold feet. I need to find someone, but who'll join hands with me? I barely even know anybody here...

"Hey, you're the son of marquess Pharae right?"

Eliwood turns his head and spots the person who was arguably the most important in the room (besides maybe Erik). It was the son of marquess Ostia, the blue-haired dynamo named Hector. Up to this point, the two of them had never met, and only knew of each other through stories passed down by the intrigue of court. Because of distance, the two cantons didn't have much in terms of diplomatic relations, and thus today served as the first meeting between the two lordlings.

Eliwood replied, "Yeah, my name is Eliwood. I take that you're Hector of Ostia?"

Hector nodded, "Yes, I am. Now, are you just going to stand there...or are you going to shake my hand?"

Eliwood chuckled. He had heard that Hector liked to cut to the point, but even then he didn't expect him to be that up front.

Eliwood said, "I suppose I should. My hand is bleeding, might as well."

Hector replied, "Ha! Well, we better get on with that then..."

The two children smiled as they shook hands. There was a sense of vigor and mutual respect as they did so, and both understood this would be a memory they'd recall for years to come. Although neither of them would know it, this would become the dawn of a great and long friendship...

I jot down some final notes as I wrap up the interview with Hector. The whole thing had progressed smoothly, and despite some rather vulgar behavior [from both sides] we had reached a state of mutual understanding.

I said, "Thanks for your time, Hector. I got everything I needed, so you can go ahead and begin your morning training."

Stone-faced, he replied, "Tell me Kenan, are you familiar with the concept of the Lycian Exchange?"

"Lycian Exchange?"

The Lycian exchange is a concept that states "All favors should be reciprocated when needed". There was no time limit associated with the honoring of that favor, and if the favor-taker so chooses they could "cash-in" their favors immediately. Its closest familiar equivalent is the "solids system" seen among young folk in the American school system, though this version often held cataclysmic consequences especially when considering the power held by these nobles.

Hector said, "You are in my debt, and thus you must help me train in the morning. I need a sparring partner, and I don't want to wake up Eliwood from his beauty sleep."

My heart sinks. Knowing this man's strength, I didn't relish the thought of spending half an hour trying to parry his axe. Although at one point I wielded plenty of strength, most of it had gone away when I was rotting in prison. Amidst all the things going on between then and now, I never bothered trying to build it back, and now I'm regretting that decision.

I said, "Uh, I think I'll p-paaaaaaa"

I'm wriggling like a worm as Hector effortlessly lifts me up into the air by the back of my hood. He didn't seem to care that I weighed about 150 pounds; the blue-haired noble easily beat me by over 75.

He said, "I won't take no for an answer. If you weren't prepared for this, then you shouldn't have asked for a favor. You're a swordie right? I've sparred with Eliwood plenty of times, and although our series is tied I think you won't stand a chance against me!"

"Tied? He told me he's beating you by three."

Hector laughs and pats me on the shoulder. Over the horizon, I spotted a rising sun cradling against the green grass. The new addition of light gave way to a small ring indented in dry dirt, and I gulped when I saw the long sword sticking up from the ground.

Throwing me onto the ground, he said, "Beating me by three, eh? I'll be sure to talk to him later. You'll see firsthand why what you've heard is fake news."

Several Days later...

"KEEEEENAAAAAAN!"

My ears bleed as Serra's screaming expunged itself through the entirety of our moving caravan. Noticeable groans ripple through the army, and I'm left having to deal with this pink banshee alone...

I said, "Serra...I told you to call me by my formal name, Lieutenant Vacia."

We were en route to Castle Santaruz, the home of the marquess. After entering the country, Eliwood informed me about some peculiar details in regards with the bandits that attacked us...

They were far too organized to be simple bandits. Marcus proposed the theory that they may have been waiting for us to arrive...and if that's true then there might be something more sinister lying ahead. I'd...like to go talk to Marquess Santaruz. He knew my father, and I think he may know something about what's going on...

"Mark, you're losing yourself deep in thought again! You should be focused on my wonderful self!"

Mark?! Does...she know?!

Had it not been for the mask on my face, my look of shock alone would've been enough justification to arouse suspicion. Luckily, everyone in the army had grown accustomed to Serra's outbursts, and they paid us no mind. Everybody, except for Matthew.

Glaring at me, he motions his hand below his neck like a guillotine was decapitating it. It's a frank reminder that if anyone ever found out my true identity, then he and his employer would be powerless to protect me against any vengeful souls...

Like the survivors of Azazel's rampage at Castle Caelin.

In a hushed tone, I said, "Serra, I don't know who Mark is, but do I need to remind you what my name is? It's Kenan, and I'm going to need you to memorize that fairly quickly if we're going to work together."

I needed to get in this little girl's mind that me and Mark are not the same person. Behavior like this shouldn't be treated like a game, though Serra didn't seem to understand that.

She said, "Oh? I'm sorry, for a second there I confused you with another guy I knew. You two just...feel so similiar. I don't know why I feel this way, you're much more uptight and mature than he ever was."

Uptight?

Serra's gaze slowly floats over towards a nearby mountain. She was reminiscing over times since long past, a time when I went by a different name than I do now.

She said, "He had a thing for that princess, and she did too. I don't know what she saw in him; I mean it's not like he was a horrible person. It's just that...I felt like she could have done so much better."

Slighted, I asked, "How so?"

Serra smiles as she notices the intrigue in my voice. In her eyes, I had fallen into the trap she had expertly crafted for herself, and now she had my full attention.

She said, "Well, in my opinion he was quite boring. Always studying and rambling some nonsense about natural sc- whatever. I couldn't imagine having to listen through that day after day, I think I'd rather die than do that. Lyn even complained to me about it at one point...oh her poor soul..."

She complained to Serra about it?

"Don't think that's the end of it! He had the most atrocious looking facial hair I'd ever seen in my life, and I'd spend everyday wondering if he'd do us all a favor by shaving it. He was also so arrogant 100% of the time, and I just wanted someone to set him straight. Ugh...I should've done it myself. Everyone knows just how good I am in changing people."

I quipped, "You sound a bit arrogant there yourself little lady. If he was here, I'm sure he wouldn't take too kindly to hearing that..."

I was being patient with her. I had to, she's only 16 years old and I can't lose my cool to this high school mean girl. I'll bend, but won't break. I'm 20 years old...I can handle this...

She continued, "I wouldn't really worry about that. He's somewhere far away, probably in the desolate isolation of this continent's western islands. It's a good thing for Lady Lyn. In his absence, she's found herself with a noble from the prestigious southwestern cantons. Quite the upgrade in my opinion."

Noble?

A pit of disappointment builds around my gut. This wasn't the first time hearing this news...but that didn't make it any less painful.

I said, "She...found someone else?"

She nodded, "Yes, I don't remember the name of the young man, but I hear he's truly dashing. Polite, genuinely nice, and rich. What else can a woman want? If you were in Lyn's shoes, wouldn't you take that over a conceded, burdened commoner?"

My eye twitches once. The wrath building up in my hands were indescribable, and it took everything within me not to draw my dagger in anger. My face boils red like a volcano...and I was nearing my limit.

You...you don't know who I was. Stop talking like you do.

It felt...frustrating listening to her speak about me in this way. We'd never had a close relationship the first time we'd traveled together, though I learned plenty about her by listening to Erk's squabbles. Yet, here she was speaking to Kenan like she truly knew who I was. From my perspective, her arrogance and outright ignorance served as an unforgivable sin.

"Y-You..."

!

"That's enough Serra, hold your tongue."

Just as I'm about to break my nerve, Matthew comes in and silenced the pink cleric. He's cool and collected, which was the complete opposite of what I was right now.

Serra said, "Aw come on, I was just starting to have fun."

Matthew scolded her, "Nobody has fun by ridiculing a dead man. Mark's already seen his justice in Illia…he found his demise at the end of a noose. Please, I don't know what they taught you in the convent, but at least let his soul rest."

"..."

Serra goes silent. The gravity of the words she had said begin to weigh down on her, and although she was doing her best to keep a poker face, she knew she did something wrong. Had Serra been more experienced in the game of life, she probably would've apologized right then and there...

But she wasn't. All she did was begrudgingly leave in silence, with Matthew alone to quench my fuming temperament.

I clenched my teeth, "Serra...is quite the gossip."

Matthew sighed, "Unfortunately. She's a handful, and a devil when you grant her an instance of your attention. Mmm, tell me...are you upset?"

"Very."

He said, "Well then, I'm afraid you must hold it in. Lord Eliwood told me to inform you of some trouble..."

I asked, "More bandits?"

Surprisingly, he shakes his head. The concern in his voice is so striking that it makes me forget about my previous tribulations.

He said, "No, I'm afraid it's much worse..."

"We're dealing with some old friends of yours..."

"Shit..."

I swear under my breath as I view the...predicament before me. Dozens of bandits swarmed around Castle Santaruz like fire ants on a colony mound. They easily outnumbered us, and by the look of them they looked much stronger than our last opponents...

Eliwood muttered, "I don't like the look of this. Hector, do you have any idea what's going on here?"

Hector replied, "No, but it doesn't sound like these people are employed with the marquess. Look at their garments. They don't contain the colors of this canton, yet they seem too organized to be simple bandits. I mean...just look at their troop formations..."

I peer down the plain we had set down our position. Nearby, I can spot the fence of a nearby village, along with the silhouette of another far away on the other side of a river. There's a bridge protecting that after-mentioned river, and it's guarded by a few armed men. One of these men looked...peculiar when compared to the others, and by the appearance of his dress I could infer that he was the only sacaen in the enemy army.

But why is this significant?

I shake my head and sigh. In truth, this detail wasn't significant at all. A person's nationality holds no bearing in this battle. I needed to analyze other details such as troop placements, terrain features, and defense fortifications if we're going to defeat this difficult foe...

However, I could not pause and take my time with such trivialities. As they say in some war diaries: "Wait to attack an enemy too long, and they may attack you first..."

A nearby bush ruffles with life. At first I think it's the wind...but our scrappy lord sees through it.

Hector exclaimed, "Hm? Who's there? Show yourself!"

"..."

The bush ruffles again, but this time more vigorously. Eliwood looks on wide-eyed as a large man emerged from the vegetation, while I do the same in regards to his sturdy-looking armor.

He sneered, "Pah! I can't believe I was spotted by a snot-nosed stripling!"

The man is a green-haired knight named...Boise. I don't know why I know his name, but considering my past it's likely we'd met at some point in the Black Fang. However, despite that I still couldn't know for certain if this man was here on their orders. Or more specifically, on the orders of Nergal...whether directly or indirectly.

[In reality, the knight's name was Boies. At this point, my memory was so shoddy that I'd switched up his name with a city in Idaho. I wouldn't realize this until much later.]

Hector asked for the knight's name, but he refused to give it. Instead, Boise taunted him with a plethora of insults not appropriate for this account...which Hector reacts to negatively.

He said, "I don't need your name. Why should I care what a corpse is called?"

Boise laughs, "Hahaha! The cub thinks he's a wolf! Does your bite match your bark? Tell you what, if you make it to the castle alive, we'll find out, eh?"

The presumed enemy commander then runs off back to the enemy army. Hector and Eliwood quickly get together to discuss battle plans, but meanwhile I'm left in silence deliberating about what had just happened.

Was...that man with the black fang? He was in plainclothes...and I couldn't see the characteristic tattoo hidden under all that armor. What's going on?

Ugh...damn it Hector. Why did you have to piss him off?

Later...

"Hey Eliwood, that's the swordsman those village folk were talking about...isn't it!?"

"Yeah, it looks like they've posted him to guard this bridge. Be careful, that blade of his is dangerous..."

We'd arrived at the bridge connecting the castle to the surrounding villages. A ferocious river hummed underneath its wooden planks, though the water was the least our worries. Standing directly at the other side is a Sacaen swordsman, a warrior some villagers had warned us about earlier when we protected their homes from the enemy.

"Careful about that one. He's fast and carries a powerful blade, the expertly crafted Killing Edge brand of swords..."

The Killing Edge derives most of its strength from its potent critical hit ability. A critical hit deals 3 times the damage than a regular hit, and nothing can really be done about it except stacking armor or dodging. However, I'm too slow and have no protection to do any of those things. Another factor that can influence a critical hit is the "luck" quantity, though given my past I doubted I had any of that to speak of...

So, with all these things to consider, this swordsman served as the perfect assassin to end my life. I need to avoid fighting this guy at all cost, lest he carve me up into tonight's serving of pasta.

"..."

Shoot, he's coming right at me is he?

The green-haired swordsman barrels through the bridge like an unstoppable supersonic train. He clears the wooden arches faster than most Olympic sprinters in a 100m dash, and his sword firmly aims itself for my throat...

!

"Ack!"

The blade cleanly cuts through the air, but before it could decapitate me I manage to catch the blade with my metal hand. My robotic limb cracks and whines as mana quickly pumps its way through the metal gearing...with the tips of my fingers bending against the sheer force carried behind this young man's sword.

The man said, "Huh...my sword should've torn through your hand like paper. What...exactly are you hiding underneath that glove?"

With a simple flick of the wrist, he twists his blade and effortlessly rips out my hand straight from its socket. The scrap metal falls onto the ground with a light thud, and the grass below me turns crimson red from the amputated wiring connected to my ulnar artery...

I scream out in pain, but somehow manage to maintain my composure. My heart sinks when I spot my amputated hand wriggle on the ground like a worm, but my immediate concern was towards the exposed artery profusely spewing out blood.

Crap! I need to stop the bleeding or else I'll pass out! The screwdriver...I need it to shut off the intake valve!

However, just as I'm scrambling to receive my tool hidden deep within my pocket...my attacker lunges forward again.

Eliwood exclaimed, "Lieutenant, watch out!"

!

Clang!

I gasped. Eliwood had stepped forward and parried what would have been a fatal strike with his rapier. The swordsman's blade is red hot from the rough contact, but as the man strained to push forward into his opponent's shoulder, Eliwood uses a technical finesse move to manipulate his body weight onto the ground below. His elbow hits the dirt hard, but the sacaen gets back on his feet undeterred.

He...saved my life...

He grumbled, "Hmph! You're tougher than that guy over there, but you won't beat me! One day, I will become the greatest swordsman in all of Sacae!"

Eliwood replied, "Sacae? I have a good friend that comes from there. She's quite the frugal warrior...but I've never sparred with her. I wonder if you fight like her."

He was obviously talking about Lyn. By the way she was talking about her, it seemed like they'd improved their relationship while I was gone...

Good for her, Eliwood isn't like the rest of these pompous royals...

The warrior scoffed, "Bah! I taught myself how to fight, and no one can copy my style. Better prepare yourself you red-haired lion. I'll give you a fight you'll regret!"

I look on as the two swordsmen ready their stances for another bout. Both of them were pretty much equal in strength, and I didn't know if Eliwood would win. I couldn't help my noble friend either; I'd lost about a pint of blood during my frantic attempt to close my gadget's intake valve, and the loss of mana neutered any attempt of offensive magic. I'm done fighting for the day, but Eliwood still had this swordsman and plenty of bandits between us and Boise.

I said, "Eliwood, it may be wise for us to retreat and let the knight deal with this. I can't assist in this battle, and I don't want to risk losing you in this battle."

Eliwood stares down his opponent. Hearing my request, he sighs and slowly sheathes his blade.

He said, "Very well, I will trust your judgement. Let us meet up with Marcus and Lowen at the nearby village. Erm...are you going to be all right?"

I nodded, "Yeah, you saved my life milord. You...have my thanks..."

Growing frustrated, the swordsman slams the tip of his blade into the grass.

He exclaimed, "Hey! I'm still here! I'm nowhere near done with you. Get your sword back out so we can fight!"

!

"That won't be necessary."

Our company thief emerges from an unseen crevice underneath the bridge. He'd apparently been hiding there for Elimine knows how long, though I'd never given him the order...

Well, I told him to scout out for reconnaissance. I wonder if this was the implementation of that; I did give him a large degree of freedom.

The swordsman gets noticeably shaken from the sight of Matthew. His arms shiver, and he nearly drops his sword...

He said, "M-Matthew! What are you doing here?"

Matthew replied, "Ah, but I should be asking the same about yourself. What are you doing involving yourself with these scummy bastards? You should know better...you even cut off our poor tactician's hand. What the heck were you thinking, Guy?"

My hand beats with pain as the severed framework stains brown with crimson. Admittingly, it didn't hurt as much as the first time I lost it...though that didn't bring me any peace.

Guy said, "I-I needed the work. They're the only people that'll hire a Sacaen around these parts! What am I supposed to do about institutionalized racism, Matthew?! Tell me?!"

Matthew snickered, "Well, you can start by turning your swords on your former employers. You'll be working for us now. You owe me, remember? You can't say no...your heritage says as much."

"..."

Guy sighs and motions towards the castle beyond the bridge. He said, "Ugh… damn you, Matthew. I finally find work, and now I have to throw it away. Fine. Help me deal with these arrogant bastards. They're all terrible, none of them have yet to beat me in a sparring match."

Guy sheathes his sword and walks in the castle's direction. Firmly pleased with himself, Matthew smiles and gives me a pat on the back.

He said, "You like that? It pays to have a man like around, Lieutenant."

I glared at him, "Don't touch me. I don't consider you my friend. This is nothing but a business relationship. Do not forget that."

Matthew replied, "Eh...I do apologize. Let's...go ahead and finish the mission, shall we?"

"Let's..."

Later...

Boise leans over in pain as Eliwood extracted his blade from his shoulder. The towering, flamboyant man was now reduced to a gray shell of his former self, and death was near.

However, before expiring, he muttered one final sentence...

"You've beaten me…but you're too late to save him… Too…too bad, eh, laddie? Geha ha…geha!"

With those words echoing through our minds, we rush inside the castle to find a gruesome sight. In our quest to speak with Lord Helman, we'd finally be able to fulfill that request, but at the behest of something much more sinister.

We found him slumped and bleeding over his throne with a knife protruding from his back. Upon seeing this, Eliwood became distraught, and he rushed over to his side despite calls from Marcus to stay put. The man was at death's door, but he provided us with some important final words...

"Go to Laus...Darin knows all..."

"Please...beware of the Black Fang..."

The old man had said other things besides that, but I'm too shaken by his last phrase to care. He had mentioned the accursed name of that blasted organization, the same one that took away my little girl from me. The organization headed by the devil in a human's skin...Nergal...

Beware of the Black Fang...

Those words glued to my mind like a sticky wad of molasses. Somehow, I sensed that the Black Fang were involved in this mess involving Lord Elbert. It was the only thing that made sense...

Now infused with a new injection of vigor, I clench Laniakea's locket firmly in my left hand. Marquess Ostia's was right in setting me up for this job. I won't rest until I avenge Alex and get my little girl back, even if means I have to kill this bastard sorcerer myself...

A/N: Welcome to the end! I've been...wondering if I can ask y'all a favor. Soon I'm going to drop a poll asking some...pretty monumental questions to my viewer base. I'll be basing how the rest of story goes based on those questions, including Sam's spouse, certain characters classes, and the nature of the ending. I'd like to write this story to y'all's taste, so if you want a voice in this 50 chapter series than go ahead and vote. I'll start them next week, go look in my profile for info.

I won't consider any poll valid unless there are at least 15 submissions.