On the plus side, I wasn't blacked out for that long this time.
Apparently I screamed so loud, the whole infirmary heard. A team of clerics rushed in right after I lost consciousness, trying to wake me back up. After a while they succeeded, and I woke up again.
...And then I saw my arm again. And screamed even louder. Because I was really, really hoping that what I'd seen was just a bad dream. I didn't want to have an arm that resembled a burnt twig.
But as you all know by now, I rarely get what I want.
After I managed to calm myself and accept the fact that I was now part charcoal, the healers left. Yet again I was left to stew in my own muck as I tried to come to terms with what one of my boneheaded plays had cost me.
I'm no stranger to scars. Lot of people don't get to see it, but below my neck I look like a carving board. Slashes going up and down all over my chest, stomach, back, legs. Like someone was trying to make a really bad tic-tac-toe board. All of my friends look the same, it's the aftermath of surviving the apocalypse.
But this… this is the worst one I've ever gotten.
Why the hell did I destroy that damn staff!? It didn't even do anything except explode, and it probably almost killed me! Now I'm stuck in a hospital bed for the umpteenth time, and I look like a total freak show to boot! The effort I'm going to have to go through to cover this up is going to be completely mind-numbing!
Sure, some people are probably thinking I have my priorities out of whack. But you know something? Those people aren't as pretty as me! My good looks are an asset that I use to my advantage whenever possible! And it takes effort to be this beautiful as is! My morning routine takes over two hours!
Oh Gawds, I'll never be able to wear a summer dress now. Or a proper ball gown! I'm going to be like Kjelle and go to parties in a suit!
I'm never going to be able to show my face in high society ever again. I'll be one of those back-up girls people bring along to make themselves look better! I'm supposed to be the one who does that to other girls!
My life is over. This is actually the worst thing to ever happen to me.
It's then that I hear three knocks at the door, followed by a voice. "Miss Severa? Can I come in?"
Percy. Of course it's Percy. Wasn't I going to murder him over something?
Ugh… whatever. If I can't remember why, it probably wasn't important.
"Lock the door behind you." I order, putting my hand over my brand instinctively. Percy comes in, pushing along a pretty big cart completely filled with a bunch of medical supplies. Medicine, tonics, tools I can't name, even a stave sheathed against the side.
The kid sends me one of his signature nervous smiles, before he sees what happened to my arm and grimaces. His foot hits the break on the cart's wheel, then he goes to stand by my bedside sheepishly.
"The other healers warned me that you'd taken the wraps off." Percy lamented, taking careful hold of the crispy limb with both of his hands. He runs them along its length, his fingers pressing against what used to be my skin. He looks up to me, visually questioning if I'm getting any response. I shake my head, and he drops his hold.
"...Make a fist for me." Percy asks. Weird request, but I'm not gonna talk back to the doctor. I do as he asks, the back of my hand still covered up. I unclench it, then make the fist again, even rotate my hand from the wrist to boot.
Percy watches on in what can only be described as unabashed awe, as if he's seeing the most spectacular thing ever. I'll be honest, the urge to whip my hand and slap him for leering over me like I'm a carnival sideshow is growing.
He goes back over to his cart and pulls out a notepad and quill, immediately jotting down a rapid series of notes. Honestly surprised the parchment doesn't catch fire with how fast the tip's moving. The Priest's back over by my hand just as soon, the motions of his quill only getting faster and faster.
It isn't until after it stops moving before he speaks up again.
"You're not gonna like what I'm going to tell you." Percy says, staring at me with concern.
"Just skip the foreplay and lay it on me." I grumble. He blushes at my crass language, but it's nothing he isn't used to.
"...Your entire arm's basically one massive third degree burn." He points out, running the feather of his quill down to my elbow. "Everything from your shoulder to your hand has been melded into eschar."
"Es-what?"
"Dead tissue." He clarifies. "The black stuff. That's your skin… what's left of your skin. We already scraped off the rest."
"Oh. Well that's gross." I say calmly, forcing myself to not scream again. Which is really, really hard to do in this case.
"That's not the worst part." Percy tells me, poking at my arm with a finger. "All of your…" He starts, before scratching his hair with his finger. "Gods, there's no good way to say it."
"The good way to say it is to spit it out." I puff. The news might be bad, but watching him bellyache about it is even worse.
"...The damage to your arm is completely irreversible." Percy informs in a solemn voice. "Whatever hit you burned all the way through into your muscles. Frankly I can't believe it didn't reach your skeleton. But your sensory and motor nerves are gone. There aren't even any left to try and repair."
I nod numbly. I figured as much was the case, this isn't the first time I've seen the left-over of a nasty burn. Laurent had cooked enough Risen for me to see what char-broiled skin looked like a thousand times over.
"Medically speaking, your arm should be completely immobile. But..." Percy continues to explain, going back over to his cart rifles through the different levels. By the time he turns back around, he's put his notes down and is now holding a drawing of a human body.
"It's honestly unheard of. This shouldn't be possible." He says, his eyes bouncing back and forth between the chart in his hands and my body. And I'll be honest, I don't like the look he's getting behind his glasses. It's too… 'kid in a candy store' for me to be comfortable about it.
Come to think of it, this was the same look he was giving those test-tubes when I was looking for Caeldori last week. Percy looks giddy, like someone just offered him ten pounds of free cake. Which doesn't bode well for me, because I am not going to be someone's guinea pig for 'science'. Had enough of that with Laurent.
...Oh Gods, when Laurent sees this I know he's going to put me through tests.
"Other than that, the rest of your body seems to be fine." Percy continues to explain, pushing the cart even closer to my bed as he starts mixing a bunch of multi-colored potions with one another. "There's been no track of respiratory complications, your brain's recovered from the shock completely. Far as I can tell, the circulatory system has balanced itself out. You haven't undertaken any more trauma, so you're not at the risk of another seizure."
"Wait, another!?" I cry. How did I have a seizure!? All that happened was I got blown up!
"Petit-mal, nothing to worry about." Percy added way, way too casually. You don't just tell someone they had a seizure and not expect them to start freaking out over it!
"I'm just glad you didn't suffer a stroke. That would've killed you for sure." He finishes up. I keep observing him as the red and blue liquids mix together into a ghastly purple. Something tells me I'm going to be drinking that, and I don't like it.
And people say my bedside manner is horrible. No wonder he spends most of his time with his nose in a book or at an alchemy desk.
Then again, I literally asked him to lay it on me. So I've got no one to blame but myself for getting all of these grizzly details.
Percy steps up by my left and extends his hand. The weird cocktail he's been prepping is there, ready for me to take. I grab it, bring it to my nose for a whiff, then immediately wretch as the rotten smell takes a stranglehold over my mouth.
"I'd tell you it tastes better than it smells, but then I'd be fibbing." Percy laments.
"Pretty sure it'd make me feel better if you did." I complain, swirling the weird drink around. At this point my mark's plain as day to see, but if he's been treating my wounds then he already knows I have it. "So, what's it for?"
"Blood thinner. Just to make sure there isn't any clotting, because then you will have a stroke." He points out. "Once you drink that, I'm going to reapply the bandaging and ointment. Then we'll see about getting you walking around."
Ointment. So that's what the yellow goop under the bandaging was.
I grumble to myself, before bringing the vial up to my lips and downing the slew. It tastes vile, the most bitter and repugnant mess of roots and water I've ever tasted. Soon as it's down my windpipe, I'm doubled over the side of my bed and trying to hack it back up.
By the time I'm sitting upright again, Percy's got a new set of bandages and the yellow crud set and ready.
First he starts slathering my arm in the ointment again. All the black crust gets covered in something you'd find filling a lemony cake. Then he starts to wrap the gauze over everything in two separate parts, leaving my elbow free to bend without ruining his handiwork. By the time he's done, it looks the exact same it did when I woke up.
I lean back against my bed when he's done. Percy remains sitting in his chair, while I keep clenching and unclenching my fist. The four-eyed little runt doesn't look like he's leaving the room. He just keeps staring at my arm, my face, or his cart.
"OK. You can go now." I say, not so subtly telling him to beat feet. But he shakes his head at me, his glasses almost slide off before he pushes them back up.
"Caeldori made me promise that I'd keep an eye on you. So I'm doing just that." He tells me, my anger from the battlefield coming back. Now I remember why I wanted to murder him. He's been getting touchy-feely with my daughter.
"You seem to be quite close with her." I tell him, not even bothering to hide my malice. At once I see him start to sweat in panic, edging his chair just the tiniest bit away from my bedside.
Because sure, I might be a cripple. But I'm still a cripple that can put him in the hospital.
He doesn't want to talk anymore about it, but unfortunately for him, now I want answers.
"Percy." I say.
"Miss Severa." He responds, sounding almost like a mouse.
"Why have you been spending so much time with Caeldori?" I ask, the edge in my voice growing sharper.
Again, he gets quiet. And like usual when he gets nervous, he starts staring at the ground. Running away to wherever he can, because he can never handle being in the situation he's dragged himself into.
He saved, though. A quick succession of knocks starts to hit the door. He takes the chance and runs out of the room, not even grabbing his cart before disappearing entirely.
Oh, he is so dead.
None of my family's waiting outside to greet me. Which means they're all probably busy, or no one told them I woke up. While I was looking, I overheard a few of the hospice workers talking about some big military trial happening downtown. Good enough place to start as any.
One of the healers puts my arm in a sling. The whole time they're looking at it like it's some sort of alien life-form. The guy gives me a half-assed, pitiful smile, then sends me on my not-so-merry way.
Not gonna lie, I'd like to visit this city once without getting knocked around. I mentioned it before, but even during the fight with Walhart, I ended up getting hurt in Roseanne. Back then, it was getting trampled by horsemen. Now it's getting clubbed by swords and nearly vaporized by renegade manaketes.
...Right, that brings up another problem. The Manakete.
You'd think I'd be used to fighting dragons by now. What with Grima and Anankos defining my life as much as they have. But this newfound revelation's got me still spinning through each step.
Manaketes are supposed to be almost extinct. Far as I know, only four are supposed to even be alive. Two of them are Nahs, one of them is her mother, and the last is Tiki. The rest of them were wiped out millenia ago, during Marth's time. No one knows how, or why, but they all disappeared after Medus died.
On top of that, out of all the dragons I've seen, I've never had one be able to dig underground like some sort of huge mole-creature. They have wings they're supposed to be in the sky. Not under my feet trying to turn horses into cherry jam.
Mother's probably warned everyone about this new problem, but that doesn't mean we can do anything about it. He can dodge us so easily, and he's also linked to all of the Risen. Finding him was a complete fluke, and we don't know where to start if we're going to hunt him down again.
...We need Tiki's help. Where's a Demi-Goddess when you need her?
I sigh to no one in particular as I continue to walk, having left the castle entirely and am already well into the city itself.
The cobbled stone streets are covered in streamers and confetti. More than a few empty wine bottles too. I can see a few workers picking up the refuse, stowing them into large bags and then throwing those onto mule pulled carts. The streets are relatively full of life, people going to and fro talking with one another. Once in a while I spot someone in a militia uniform, lazing around and drinking in the atmosphere.
I wonder how the fight wrapped up, anyway.
If I'm back here, instead of in a field hospital, that probably means most of the army is as well. Mother and Aunt Sumia showed up, which meant they had to have brought plenty of reinforcements. And with the black eye we gave them the first few days, a new army coming from the flank would have broken them into pieces. Plus the Risen on top of that…
I'll just ask Mother and Morgan when I see them.
"Hey, you! Girl with the shiny armor!" A voice calls over to me. I look over to see a middle aged man standing behind a food stall. Sausages hang from the roof and around his head like stalagmites in a cave.
I trot over to him, glancing at the hanging meat closely. I've never actually had a sausage before. Prepared foods were something I never really got used too. Fanciest meal I can usually stomach is a sandwich or a bowl of soup.
Then, out of nowhere, he tears one of the things off of it's chain and offers it to me. As I stare at it carefully, he gives me a clear-cut smile.
"Take it. All of you soldiers who've come back, I've given one. Smoked and ready to eat!" He says, pushing it into my unslung hand as I grasp it. "Think of it as a thanks for fighting."
I bring the thing up to my nose and give it a whiff. Spicy, with maybe some brown sugar in it? Never put sweets in meat before.
"Gee, thanks." I respond, not a single ounce of enthusiasm. His expression droops, but I'm already walking off and away before he can say anything else. I take a bite out of the thing and chew, going through an effort to ignore everyone else as I go.
What, you were expecting me to get some kind of warm fuzzies because he gave me some food? That my heart was going to get ten sizes bigger and I was gonna learn to appreciate that I made it out of there?
Yeah, no. That's not how this works.
I'm gonna let you guys into a little secret. People like me, who've been doing this for as long as we have? We don't give a damn about what the townsfolk feel when we make it home.
We've been through it all before. The parades, the celebrations. The parties and everyone throwing themselves at our feet. And then two months later I'm in another muddy ditch, up to my waist in corpses and my sword's stuck in some poor dastard's neck.
Soldiers aren't in this business for cheap thanks and trinkets.
Some of us do it for gold. Some of us do it for love of home. Some of us do it because we have no choice. Some of us do it because we're psychopaths who like murdering people.
You all know why I do it already, so we're not gonna bang on that drum again.
But I'm honestly numb to all of these celebrations. Even if I wasn't walking around with this new scarring, this isn't fascinating or validating. The only thing this means is that I survived another fight, so I can just go survive the next.
It's a cycle. I've accepted that. Hopefully, I'll break it one day. But I can't now, not with a genocidal dragon on the loose.
...Crap, this is actually really good food. I should've bought the whole link.
Sooner or later, I make it to the city courthouse. It's a big, gray, vast building. You'd almost think it was a second castle, with how ornate and intricate the outside carvings were. Pillars quadruple my height, a large metal shield hanging off the roof. Marble steps leading up to the entrance. Naga's sake, does everything in this city need to be made of this stuff?
I stomp my way up, when my ears catch to voices I'm quite familiar with. Both male, one I've heard a lot recently and the other I haven't heard in years.
Stahl and Rudy are standing in the large main door, the two brothers talking between one another in an excited tone. It isn't until I get to the top of the steps that either of them notices me.
Stahl's the first to spot me, and he instantly breaks into the widest grin. Both him and Rudy break off to walk towards me, the older horseman opening his arms as we close the gap.
"Sev! You're awake!" He observes, happy as ever. Before I know it, he's got his arms around me and I'm getting lifted off the ground in a twirling hug.
Not the most comfortable thing, seeing as I'm in my armor, but I'm enjoying it.
I laugh as he sets me back down, looking up to the tall man. "Long time no see, cowlick. Growing a mustache?"
He snickers, releasing his hold on me as he runs his fingers over the long stubble over his upper lip. "Dunno, I'm thinking about it. Rudy says it'd look good on me."
"Just don't try and make it a goatee like last time. Tharja almost leveled the entire town." Rudy jokes, before punching my good arm. "Good to see you back in action, ma'am. Had a nice nap?"
"Nice enough." I say with a casual shrug, before looking past them into the building. "Heard there was something going on, figured I may as well see for myself. Who's getting hung?"
"We don't know if-" Stahl starts, before Rudy speaks up.
"Well, apparently they're trying the head of the Royal Guard for treason." He tells me, earning a moderate stink-eye from his older sibling. "Rumor has it he's the one who let Virion and Cherche get stabbed."
"Excuse me." I ask, dumbstruck and blind-sided. Virion and Cherche got what? When!? HOW!?
Seeing that I'm not nearly as in the know as he thought, Rudy backpedals. Stahl shakes his head, taking back the conversation as he ruffles my hair. "Don't worry. They're alive, just… hurt. We're taking good care of them."
"B-but how…" I sputter, not putting it together. They weren't on the front line. Sure, they had a command post close to the battle. But there was an army between them and everyone else!
"Risen ambush. Same one that nearly wiped us out." Rudy tells me, regaining himself. "Except for some reason, this guy decided to pull his guards away from their tent. Right as the shamblers show up. Coincidence?"
"Apparently he tried to leave that War Cleric they've got in charge for dead too." Stahl continues to enlighten, referencing Blanche. "My group found her while we were flanking the Valentians. She was covered head to toe in red. Gods knows how many people she had to cut through to even stay alive."
So Blanche made it too. Everyone's still here, even if they got as beat up as I did. Worse, judging by the sound of Stahl's voice. Mother used to tell me him and Cherche were oddly close. Partially because of how similar their personalities are, partially because they're both animal lovers.
Gods, this day just keeps getting more and more complicated.
"How long until the trial's wrapped up?" I ask them both, wanting to see if I can catch a glance at this rat bastard. Maybe wring his neck when he gets escorted out of the building.
"Not long." Stahl informs. "Morgan just got called as a witness, the crowd was eating it up when we left."
My attention grows even more as my sister's presence is mentioned. If she's here, then maybe the rest of my family is as well.
I nod, and follow them into the courthouse's winding halls. Yeesh, it's even bigger inside than it was out. Go figure.
After what seems like an eternity walking, we find the right room. The door opens to reveal a full house, both normal citizens and military officials in the seats watching the spectacle take place. At the front of the room is a row of three chairs, each one filled with two older men and one ancient woman in the center.
Before them, I can see Morgan standing at a podium as she recites her side of the story. Her back's facing us, but she's pretty distinctive with that new look she has going on. Note to self, give the long-mane look a try. Blanche is standing to the side, looking more 'Cleric' than General. Her armor's been traded for some more ascetic robes, along a halo crown resting on her pink hair.
Sitting at the back end of the room, I see two empty spots on the bench backed up by a railing. Mother's sitting there, and I'm guessing they were too before they left to have their little chat.
The three of us move over, Stahl and Rudy sitting back down while I lean up on the railing. Mother turns to spot me, becoming starstruck for the briefest of pauses before breathing a sigh of relief.
"Oh thank Naga, you're conscious. We were going to leave for the hospital as soon as this was over." She tells me, putting a hand over mine as it clutches the brass.
"Lucky I've got a natural sense of direction." I quip, then point up towards the stand. "How's it going?"
"Your sister has spent the past ten minutes tearing this man apart." Mother says, staring up at the condemned with a mixed gaze.
He wasn't much to look at. Skinny, almost too skinny to wear any armor before buckling in on himself. Angled features that you could cut yourself on. Matted black hair and a soul patch under his lower lip. Chains were wrapped around his wrists, and two guards both stood at his flanks.
So this was the guy who almost got them killed. He doesn't look that tough. He also doesn't look scared. Usually weasels are terrified right before they get smacked. And the look Mother's giving him isn't one of particular loathing.
"What's your take on this, Mom?" I ask, not catching the disconnect between her emote and the situation.
Mother takes a breath, running a single finger to straighten her bangs out. "Well… Morgan does not like him. But I am not convinced he acted out of malice, more incompetence."
"Same result in the end." I point out.
"Maybe, Severa." Stahl answers. "But one's stupidity, the other's treason. You know what happens to traitors out here."
"Some rope, followed by a short drop?" I joke dryly. Something that gets my mother to frown in disapproval with how lightly I'm taking the chance of this guy getting executed. Forgot how sensitive she gets with this stuff.
"I'm not convinced. There's too many variables." Mother repeats, solidifying her stance on the matter. "If these all were errors, he should be removed from command. No more, no less."
I huff, not feeling as merciful as she is. My eyes drift over to Blanche again as a soldier approaches her, handing something off. The two whisper about something, before the messanger leaves just as quickly as they came.
My attention's brought back to the front of the room, just as quickly.
"Thank you, Commander. Your… colorful testimony has been noted." The oldest judge drones. Morgan bows her head, before taking a few steps back and walking back to what I assume is the prosecution's table. I resist the urge to wave at her. Not really the best time, considering the setting.
The granny coughs a few times, before she speaks up again. "Unless the prosecution has any more evidence to present, the Triumvirate has reached a verdict."
Blanche steps out from the sidelines, then. Her robes flowing around like they've got a mind of their own. She goes to where Morgan was standing previously, before shuffling around with what's in her hands.
"Bishop Navarre, we ask that you respect our procedures and request to be called forward." One of the men demands, giving his best attempt at an evil eye to the holy woman. Sadly he's too chubby and too bald for it to work, he resembles a chipmunk even from here.
"Apologies, magistrate. But my men have finished searching the Colonel's personal quarters." She says, before lifting up the parcel for everyone to see. It's clearly a letter, I'm barely able to make out a green stamped seal from all the way back here. "With the Triumverate's permission, I request to read it's contents aloud to the court."
"I object." The chained up shrimp-man's counselor booms. "Magistrates, this trial has gone on since the Army's return from the border! The Count wishes to return to see his family after fighting to defend the Duchy. I request we move to judgement at once!"
The old crone in the middle waves her hand, before looking to Blanche. "I assume this is a matter of importance, Bishop?"
Instead of answering her question directly, Blanche begins to unfurl the letter in her hands. With an exaggerated, artifical clearing of the throat, she begins to read off the contents.
"'To General Maddox, of the One Kingdom-'" She reads aloud, saying a name that makes me rise up in my seat. I see Morgan do it as well, as her Ylissean guards suddenly come to arms. "'-I am pleased to inform you that the preparations have been finished. Both the Duke and Duchess will be absent from their castle in a fortnight's time, providing your agents ample opportunity to strike.'"
"LIAR! SHE'S A LIAR!" The Colonel starts to screech. He stands up to his feet, obviously trying to lunge at Blanche as she reads the letter. Both of his wardens grab him by the arms, before they throw him down hard against the floor.
Blanche doesn't even stop, continuing to read the words as he screams and the audience starts to churn. "'My men have been ordered to concentrate their patrols around the gates and southern sector, leaving an opening for them to infiltrate the Keep and complete their objective.'"
The situation quickly starts to deteriorate, most of the room starting to catch on to what Blanche is insinuating. Immediately, the four of us stand up, moving down the center aisle to grab Morgan and get out of here.
The assassins in the castle months ago. Me stopping them from catching younger Gerome. All of it suddenly makes so much more sense.
"'With the heir in your captivity, I hope that after the surrender is negotiated, we shall be able to work together to unite the rest of the continent. Glory to the one Kingdom, glory to Valentia, glory to Albein. Death to the false Duke.'"
It was the last straw to set the onlookers off. The tide of viewers all rush forward, calls for blood and retribution filling the hall. Immediately, the Colonel's guards released him, turning their spears towards the mob as they started to encroach further. Morgan's own detail started to close in around her, escorting her away from the mess.
As we meet up with them, I grab her by the arm and start dragging her to the nearest door. We look at once another in the eye, coming to an understanding before we run out of the building as fast as our legs can carry us.
While we leave, the Magistrates call for order. There isn't any to be had, and the bailiffs aren't going to establish it at this rate. All they can do is try and form a wall between the angry mob and their target, while said target keeps screaming that he's an innocent man.
The last thing I see before I slip out the door is Blanche, well out of the way as chaos erupts now, having slinked back against the wall as her own knights make no effort to try and pacify the situation.
The smile she has is so evil, even Tharja would be creeped out.
A/N: Still in 'social quarantine' or whatever the CDC is calling it. Sooner this crap is done, the better. Don't get me wrong, I like the chance to write. But I'd like to also be able to go outside. And, y'know, not have people becoming deathly ill. Priorities, I sure have them.
Stay safe, everyone. Wash your hands, properly prepare your food, spend some time with your family. And for God's sake don't go doing anything stupid.
o/
