Chapter 22: Enemy Within.
Spite sighed as he flipped through his personal set of notes again, having memorized the results by heart.
The sun had begun to fall in Shambhala, a slight wind rushing against the canyon walls. It would only be a matter of time before the sun would disappear under the distant horizon.
Spite took one last look at the sky before he turned back to the deserted Machine Hall.
"Are we ready to go?" Yurius asked as he glanced at the orange pink sun in the distance, his eyes turning to find a figure hurrying from a nearby farmhouse.
Count Gloucester glanced at Lorenz before turning to Yurius. "Go around a field. It's potentially dangerous if you are caught leaving my home."
"Why is that?" Leonie asked, turning to the Count.
"Because there is a great risk that you will be seen by others. I do not know if there are spies or scouts watching my home."
Yurius frowned, but nodded. "Leonie, Ignatz?"
"Right, let's go," Leonie said. "Where's the site?"
"Plaza of the Elders." Count Gloucester replied.
"It's up north," Lorenz explained, a frown spreading across his face.
"Follow the crowds," Count Gloucester said. "They aren't going to go anywhere else at this hour."
"Alright then, we'll be off," Ignatz said, hurrying after the two before him.
Count Gloucester paused as he watched the door close, his eyes turning to the back of his son.
"Lorenz?"
"Yes father?" Lorenz asked as he turned around. "Is something wrong?"
"I need to speak to you about something."
"Spite?" Mortis asked into the microphone.
"Hello Mortis." Spite replied, his tone even as Mortis made to slightly adjust the volume.
"I have a question, if it's alright."
"So long as it can assist with your mission, I'll be pleased to help as much as I can."
"Just why were the Ashen Wolves so dangerous to you?" Mortis asked, unwittingly holding her breath as she waited for an answer.
"Each one of the members has a direct or indirect connection to Shambhala or my own family." Spite admitted after a long minute, his voice finally allowing Mortis to let go of the breath she had been holding.
"Direct?" Mortis asked, her voice low.
"Mostly indirect." Spite replied.
"What do you mean by that?" Mortis asked.
"Every member of the Ashen Wolves has at least had a limited amount of interaction with me or Aranea." Spite replied, his tone serious.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked." Mortis interjected.
"No," Spite said, his voice having hardened.
"I'm sorry if I brought up something-"
"Mortis, enough. You deserve to know the full truth."
Mortis swallowed as Spite let out a long sigh, her attention taken fully by the voice on the other end of the machine.
"I hired their leader to punish a certain individual." Spite admitted after a pregnant pause.
"Punish?" Mortis asked.
"Men belonging to a certain worm named Varley had interrupted a excavation I had sponsored," Spite explained. "They almost destroyed one of Old Agartha's libraries in the process."
Mortis winced as she heard the cold rage within the voice of Spite. "And you hired an assassin to go after him?"
"Not him, but his only child. A certain Bernadetta von Varley."
"The one with the Crest of Indech?" Mortis recalled. "That Bernadetta?"
"Impressive memory," Spite replied. "That is correct. Unfortunately for me, the attack failed. This… Yuri faltered at the last minute."
"So what did you do then?" Mortis asked. "You aren't big on forgiveness."
"I wrote him a letter reminding him that I knew many of his secrets. I made sure that he knew that any further intervention against Shambhala's projects would result in a massacre, not a simple assassination."
Mortis grimaced as she listened to the hardened intent within Spite's voice. "What about the old guy?"
"I ran into him while working on the Ordelia project," Spite said. "I doubt he would recognize me, but I'm still cautious."
"What about the monster summoner?" Mortis asked. "Hapi, I believe her name is?"
"That's correct-" Spite started. "What the hell do you mean by that?"
"Pardon?" Mortis blurted out, wincing at the sudden increase in volume.
"Not you," Spite replied, his voice distant. "Odesse tells me that Thales has returned."
Aranea watched the Machine Hall carefully as the last of the soldiers left the faltering portal that had led to the dark realm of Zaharas.
"So we have returned." Solon observed, his eyes scanning the room as the door opened, a unwitting magister hurrying in.
"Ahem- Lords and Ladies of the Sept-"
"Enough," Spite's voice echoed from behind the man, the unmistakable form of her twin bringing a frown to Aranea's face. "Odesse, bring Shambhala to heel."
"No," the booming voice of Thales said, freezing the man in place as two superiors gave him conflicting orders. "Stay here. They will learn of our presence in the morning."
"Spi- Periander, what is this?" Chilon asked, gesturing to a shattered corpse at his boots.
"A usurper and murderer." Spite replied, his eyes meeting those of Chilon. "I executed him yesterday and left his corpse to rot in Zaharas."
Chilon grimaced as he turned back to face the rest of the Septet assembled in the hall.
"Periander?" Thales asked, his eyes turning to the younger man as he spoke.
"Yes Agastya?" Spite asked, taking a slight bow as he spoke.
"What are the conditions of the rooms? Many of your peers are tired from their march."
"Empty." Spite replied. "The men I still kept under my command still remain within the rooms I assigned them."
"Very well then," Thales said, his towering figure turning to the assembled army. "Soldiers, you are all dismissed until daybreak tomorrow."
"What shall we do with the information we received?" Myson asked. "Regarding the Wind Caller?"
"We will deal with that come a meeting tomorrow," Thales replied. "Once I have addressed Shambhala. We will discuss a replacement for Bias."
"Bias has fallen?" Spite asked, his face blank.
"We believe so." Myson confirmed. "We have no concrete proof, but it would appear that her entire task force was obliterated."
Spite grimaced at the words before he nodded, "Very well then."
"Periander, are you missing any men?" Thales asked, his eyes meeting those of Spite.
Spite paused for a moment before he nodded. "I sent two trusted agents in an attempt to seek you out."
"Oh?" Thales asked, a thin eyebrow raised as he took a step forward, his eyes staring into his subordinate. "I am honoured that you are concerned for my safety, but in the future, do not fret. I will not fall so easily."
"Who was it that you had sent out?" Myson asked, his gaze turned to Spite. "Mortis?"
Spite nodded. "That is correct. The other soldier sent was the swordsman Yurius."
"Fair," Thales said, his eyes turning to find Solon, his face stony. "No matter."
"Where are they at the moment?" Chilon interjected.
"Mortis reported that she had reached the Great Bridge of Myrddin earlier today."
Thales raised an eyebrow at the information. "What else has she stated?"
"Three members of the Black Eagle Strike Force are travelling alongside the two of them," Spite replied. "None of them seem aware of the identity or motivations of my agents."
"And what are the identities of these Black Eagle agents?" Solon asked, his voice dry.
"Lorenz Hellman Gloucester is the most dangerous of the three, purely due to the influence of his father," Spite started. "He also appears to be the senior most member of the trio."
"And what of the other two?" Chilon asked. "How dangerous are they?"
"Leonie Pinelli and Ignatz Victor. Two commoners of no significant rank within the task force."
Thales nodded. "Where are your agents headed?"
"My initial orders were to have them infiltrate Garreg Mach to search for you, but clearly those orders are no longer relevant. Shall I order them to return to Shambhala?"
"No," Thales replied. "To have them turn around suddenly would arouse suspicion from our enemies."
"Should I have them continue with their mission then?" Spite asked.
"Are you in contact with them?" Myson asked. "If you were, then we could understand their situation well enough to plan accordingly."
"I am," Spite replied. "I was in contact with Mortis just before I was informed of your arrival."
"Is she still on the other side of the line?" Aranea asked, her eyes turning from Myson back to her brother.
"She should be," Spite replied. "I was in the middle of a call when news of your arrival came."
"Good," Thales replied. "Show me this... agent of yours."
Mortis blinked and set down her teacup as a hint of a voice escaped the headset on the desk next to her.
"Spite?" Mortis asked as she placed the headset over her ears.
"His name is Periander." The voice of Thales replied, cold and indifferent.
"Lord Thales?" Mortis choked out, having frozen in place in her seat, suddenly at attention.
"I am told that your name is Mortis. Is that correct?" Thales asked, his tone even.
"That's correct," Mortis replied, hurriedly adjusting her microphone. "How may I be of service?"
"Your mission is over. I have returned to Shambhala." Thales said.
"Ah, should I collect my partner and return then?" Mortis asked into the headset.
"No," Thales replied. "Your mission will change into one of reconnaissance."
Mortis swallowed before she nodded. "Very well then. Is there a target that you have in mind?"
"I am informed that you are currently travelling with three members of the Black Eagle Strike Force," Thales said. "These three are low value targets. None of them are of any importance to Agatha."
Mortis nodded as she glanced around her room. "What, or who would be a high value target?"
"Over the course of the war, two-." Thales said, falling silent mid sentence.
"Pardon?" Mortis asked, straining her ears as she mentally repeated the seven words.
"Periander has informed me that you are familiar with the human identities of Cichol and Cethleann," Thales replied. "Our information states that they fled from the battlefield and are currently in hiding. You will do well to find their location."
Mortis nodded. "Should I wait for my partner before departing?"
"Where-" Thales started, his voice falling silent before starting again. "Periander has reported to me that he has travelled into the territory of Count Gloucester, correct?"
"Correct. He said that we would appear suspicious if we were to suddenly ignore the debt that was owed to us."
"So be it. You have my permission to wait another day" Thales replied. " If your partner has yet to arrive within that time frame, then you are to abandon him."
"Mercie, is my father alright?" Annette asked as she glanced at her closest friend, her face wrought with worry.
Mercedes replied by simply placing a finger to her lips, silencing her friend.
Annette grimaced as she stepped away from the infirmary alongside her friend.
"Your father will be alright," Mercedes assured her as they entered the stairwell. "His wounds were well bandaged."
"Did- did he ever call for mother?"
Mercedes shook her head at the question. "Your father wasn't conscious when we worked on him."
Annette swallowed as they moved down the flight of stairs, looking to the cool night sky beyond.
"Lady Annette?"
Annette glanced down at the sound of her name, smiling as she greeted the gatekeeper.
"It's good to see you Kyle."
"Ah- Lady Annette, Lady Mercedes," the gatekeeper said quickly. "Lord Linhardt has requested your presence in the dining hall."
"Is there something wrong?" Mercedes asked.
"I-uhh, I don't know. Lady-erm, Princess Petra has arrived."
"I see," Mercedes said, giving the young man a bow in the process. "Thank you for finding us so quickly."
Seteth paced quietly along the floor as Gregory Dominic watched him.
"Gregory, may I ask you a question?"
The baron blinked at being addressed, but nodded regardless.
"Do you remember Lady Cornelia's assistant during our talks during the war?"
"The knight Mortis?" Gregory recalled, his face concerned. "Yes, I remember her. What is it that you want to ask?"
"How well did she seem to know Cornelia?" Seteth asked the man.
"I'm not- Annette?"
Seteth followed the line of sight of the baron to the two figures at the door, falling silent as he spotted the man's niece.
With scarcely a sound, Madeline Dominic rose from her seat, a hand covering her mouth as she stared at her daughter, who stood frozen at the doorway.
"Mo-mother?" Annette asked, her voice faltering as Madeline Dominic rushed forward and embraced her daughter.
"I see you find her," the voice of Petra said from the other side of the dining hall, the princess of Brigid beaming as she walked forward, watching the reunion unfold. "That is great!"
"Ah, that reminds me," Gregory Dominic said as he stood up. "Crusher is still within the carriage."
"I'll get it for you," Seteth promised. "Stay with your family."
Gregory paused for a long moment before he joined the family hug, one arm around Annette, the other wrapped around Madeline.
"So dear brother," Aranea offered as she glanced at the ruined door propped up against the wall. "What in the world happened here?"
Spite grimaced and sank back into his chair, rubbing his eyes. "It's a long story, but it's a story that's been concluded. How have you been?"
Aranea snorted, "I've been dead for a while."
Spite raised an eyebrow in response, "Literally or figuratively?"
"Your science experiment hit me with a corpse axe."
"Ordelia or Hresvelg?" Spite asked.
"You already know the answer to that, dear brother," Aranea snarled. "They've had us dancing to their tune this whole time."
"Concerning," Spite replied. "But I must ask the question of if I hurt you with the missiles."
Aranea gave her brother a strange look, "What the hell are you going on about? What missiles?"
"Thales ordered me to level Arianrhod. It is my hope that all your forces were dead before I erased the city."
Aranea shrugged, "Dear my stupid brother, I was well and truly dead. I can't tell you what you would up obliterating."
Spite nodded as he sat back into his chair, fiddling with a desk cabinet, "Would you like some tea?"
"No," Aranea replied. "I want a shower, then the strongest drink you have hiding in your desk."
"Shower's available, feel free to use it," Spite replied with a shrug.
"Don't forget about the drink," Aranea replied as she turned to the side bathroom.
Spite sighed as the door to his personal bathroom closed, "Bloody hell."
The dining hall was nearly silent apart from the fish-devouring monster that was Flayn, the tiny girl devouring a large platter of fish as her father and uncle watched from another table.
Indech sighed as he placed down his teacup, his eyes focused on the table next to them, his eyes wandering over the sight of the Dominic family.
"Something on your mind?" Seteth asked, watching his brother with keen interest.
"The descendents of the eleven, do they know? The weapons."
Seteth shook his head in turn, his eyes falling upon the form of Crusher.
"Do you remember our brother?" Indech asked, his eyes hardening at the weapon.
"Tlaloc?" Seteth asked, his lips drawn into a hard line.
Indech nodded, "Some days I wish I could hear his laugh, just so I could yell at him."
Seteth closed his eyes, "It's a painful memory."
Indech sighed, tearing his gaze from his brother's desecrated corpse, "Let's talk about something else then."
Seteth nodded as he faced his brother, "Indech, why is it that you've come here?"
Indech turned his gaze to his niece, now watching the conversation intensely before he sighed.
"Brother?" Flayn asked, her eyes drifting to the form of her uncle, "Just why is uncle Indech here?"
Seteth swallowed, his gaze shifting back to his brother. "That's a good question. Indech, just why did you abandon your solitude?"
Indech blinked as he glanced around the room, no less a dozen pairs of eyes focused on him, "Brother, are they- are they trustworthy?"
Seteth grimaced as he glanced around the room, of the students he had taught and the rare comrade he had fought alongside.
"I trust them," Flayn said, cutting through the silence. "I trust the professor."
Seteth turned to match his daughter's gaze before he nodded, "I trust them too."
Indech turned to watch the face of his brother before turning to Flayn, his eyes taking a long moment to meet her eyes before he spoke.
"The scions of Agartha came to kill me."
Flayn gasped and Seteth flinched.
"I killed them," Indech said after a moment, turning his gaze to watch the reactions of his audience. "But I know they would not have relented with a single force. Many more would come."
"And you chose to leave," Seteth finished.
"I feared for your safety," Indech replied. "That you would have been cut down by our enemies."
"We're safe," Seteth promised, through his face showed open discomfort.
Indech nodded, his face scanning the room, "And what of Macuil and Seiros?"
"Macuil chose to leave civilization behind," Seteth said after a long pause. "All our information says that he's still somewhere within the Sreng Desert."
"And our sister Seiros?"
"Dead," Seteth said as he exchanged a glance with Linhardt. "She fell in battle."
"How? Seiros surpassed all of us in combat."
"Our sister spent many years trying to bring back mother," Seteth said, his face dark. "It- it would lead to her downfall."
"Mother? But The Thief King tore her apart."
Seteth shook his head. "She succeeded in her quest. Somehow, she brought back our mother."
"But that makes no sense. Why would she be dead then?"
"May I speak?" Linhardt asked, his eyes watching the two Nabateans before him.
The table in the prisoner tent was short and stubby, made from what had once been a solid oak tree a decade prior.
"Name?" Ingrid asked the woman sitting before them, her hands clasped before her.
"Bias," the woman replied, her face neutral.
"That's not your name," Douglas said after a long moment of silence. "What's your real name?"
"Periander."
"She's lying," Felix snarled. "She's toying with us."
"What would you like us to call you?" Ashe asked after exchanging a glance with Sylvain.
"Kronya would suffice."
Ingrid snapped to attention at the name of Jeralt Eisner's murderer, the men behind her staring at the prisoner in shock.
"Right-" Douglas said, having been the first member of their group to recover his wits. "Should we just call her prisoner? Doesn't seem like this name game is going to get us anywhere."
Ashe exchanged a glance with Sylvain and Felix.
"Yeah, I think that works," Caspar said. "Not like anything else has worked."
Ingrid nodded as she turned back to the prisoner, "Very well then. Tell us about why you were here."
"Kill Macuil."
"Who?" Caspar asked. "The saint?"
"Saint Macuil has been dead for years," Douglas snorted. "Everyone knows that."
"You're all idiots," the woman replied. "You have any idea how hard it was to even find that damn Nabatean?"
"Naba-what?" Caspar asked, his head turned strangely at the name.
"Nevermind," Ingrid sighed. "Tell us about the Athame. You obviously know enough about it."
"What's there to say? It's a replica. Spite and Mortis have the two real ones."
"Who is that?" Ingrid asked, her eyes watching the woman before her with malice.
"Spite or Mortis?"
Ingrid glanced behind her as the men shook their heads in confusion.
"Spite then," Ingrid said. "Who is this Spite?"
"Kronya's big brother," the prisoner said with a shrug.
"Kronya had a brother?" Sylvain asked, slamming his hands into the table. "She had a brother?"
"A sister too," the prisoner offered, almost cheerfully. "Spite's twin."
"Impossible," Sylvain muttered.
"Why is it impossible?" the prisoner asked. "I believe that all of you know someone with siblings."
"That's not the point," Sylvain hissed. "There's two more murderous assassins running around?"
"What? No. Hell no. Spite and Aranea are both mages. Kronya is the only one of them to not have her head screwed on right."
"And what about this Aranea then?" Ingrid asked. "Who is she?"
The woman sitting before them raised a eyebrow. "You don't know? You killed her after all."
"It's good to have running water again," Aranea said as she returned to face her brother at his desk. "Almost as good as this bourbon you've prepared me."
"To making up for lost time." Spite said as he raised his glass.
"To making up," Aranea replied, downing her drink with a single swig. "Making up for lost time."
"More?" Spite asked, hand already on the half empty bottle he had at his desk.
"Only in a minute," Aranea replied, her eyes studying her brother. "You've lost weight."
"It's a hot summer," Spite replied. "Stressful one too. How is the husband hunting?"
Aranea laughed. "Very funny. Remind me to smother you in your sleep."
"Mortis is my apprentice now, not yours. Find another idiot to do your dirty work."
Aranea scoffed as Spite refilled her glass, taking a long drink as she leaned into her chair.
"Where are you sleeping tonight?" Spite asked, his hands slowly drumming against the table.
"Not sure if there's going to be any open beds," Aranea said. "Unless you happen to be offering yours?"
"It's probably a lot harder than what you are used to, though I probably have a spare pillow somewhere."
Aranea nodded as she took a slow sip of her drink, leaving a significant portion of the amber liquid within the glass.
Spite moved to fill the glass before his sister waved him off.
"Addy, you don't have to do that for me."
"I'm hosting this little reunion of ours," Spite replied. "If I'm not pouring the drinks, then who will?"
"I didn't pour drinks back in Arianrhod either, Mortis got good at figuring out what I wanted."
"Good on her," Spite replied. "Good to see our investment in her paid off."
"Any of those kids would have done the same," Aranea said with a scoff.
"If only they had the brains to avoid attacking a member of the Septet in broad daylight," Spite shot back. "If only."
Aranea slammed her glass onto the desk in response, "Do you really have to hold that over my head?"
Spite shook his head, his face having turned serious, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought up the topic."
"Then let's change the topic," Aranea said, turning from her brother in annoyance. "What are you thinking about?"
"Mortis and the meeting tomorrow. Wonder what that mess is going to be about?"
"Bias and her entire unit have gone dark," Aranea said, watching her brother's eyes darken. "It's likely they've suffered a gruesome fate."
Spite leaned heavily into his chair as he crossed his hands in his lap, "What about Pittacus?"
"I am Pittacus now."
Spite gave his sister a long look before he grabbed his drink, downing the entire glass in a single gulp.
"You just implied that a full half of our fighting men and a third of our lesser magi have been wiped out." Spite concluded. "Please tell me that's the bourbon talking."
When his sister failed to say a word, Spite filled his glass before downing the refilled drink in a single swig, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion.
"I suppose neither of us are going to arrive at the meeting sober," Aranea laughed. "What was it with Mortis again?"
"She was asking me about our relationship with the Ashen Wolves."
"That outcast group?" Aranea asked, raising an eyebrow as she sipped her own drink.
"She was asking why each of them constituted a threat to her mission."
"All of that Black Eagles Strike Force could have constituted a threat to her mission," Aranea replied. "What makes the little wolves so dangerous?"
"Well, for one she didn't know any of them from beforehand. It was only when they turned up mid year that I even knew they were in Garreg Mach, and that was before we actually took a look at their history."
"Who was Mortis asking about?"
"Your predecessor's failed experiment," Spite replied. "The previous Cornelia, not the previous Pittacus."
Aranea groaned, "That idiot Cornelia couldn't take notes to save her life."
"She wasn't the sharpest blade on the rack, no," Spite replied. "But yes, I was going to explain to Mortis why she should prepare for a battle whenever that girl sighed."
"Did you get to explain?" Aranea asked, glancing at the radio on the floor next to the desk.
Spite turned to the machine before he shook his head, "Odesse interrupted me before I could. I'm sure Mortis has already gone to sleep."
Aranea rose from her seat as her brother tilted his head.
"Aranea, what are you doing?"
"I'm calling her," Aranea replied. "I don't think you know her well enough to understand her sleep habits."
When she heard the voice, Mortis grabbed her Athame, the blade reflecting the moon as she sat up, her eyes darting around the room as she slid her legs off of the rough bed.
When she heard the voice again, Mortis turned to the radio that linked her back to Shambhala, her fingers trembling as she placed the headset over her head.
"Mortis here," she said, blinking sleep from her eyes.
"I told you she's still up," the voice of Aranea scoffed on the other end of the line, though the woman's voice was distant, as if she was speaking to someone else within the room.
"Lady Aranea?" Mortis asked into the machine. "Is that you?"
"Yes Mortis, it's me. My brother here has filled me in on your current situation."
Mortis swallowed, "Was it true that you were killed in Arianrhod?"
"You really were worried that you blew me up weren't you?" The distant voice Aranea asked, her tone dismissive.
"I- I'm sorry," Mortis said, her lips pressed in a frown.
"Not you," Aranea scoffed. "I'm arguing with my brother."
Mortis winced as she thought about her next words, "What are your orders?"
"Oh, that's very nice of you," Aranea said. "Sending Mortis and the other idiot? I didn't think you would go that far, dear brother."
Mortis grimaced, "Lady Aranea, was there a purpose for this call?"
"Just finishing up your understanding of the Ashen Wolves, my dear," Aranea replied. "And in particular, the one known as Hapi."
Mortis thought of the interrupted conversation with Spite before she absentmindedly nodded, "Oh, that. I had forgotten it all over the course of the new assignment."
Aranea chuckled, "Fortunately for you, I'm very much familiar with the descendent of Timotheos."
Mortis grunted her confirmation, "What is it that I need to know?"
"She's fundamentally an enigma for us. No thanks to the incompetence of the previous Cornelia Armin."
Mortis blinked, "Pardon?"
"The first Cornelia Armin was always one of our agents, right from the beginning," Aranea explained, her tone hardening as she reached the end of her sentence. "What a shame then that she was stupid enough to betray Shambhala."
"What?" Mortis spluttered, the news of a traitor to Shambhala driving the last of her exhaustion from her head. "What happened?"
"You can thank my brother for the whole mess," Aranea replied. "He mastered the Blood Reconstruction technique while Cornelia wasted her time and our resources creating an uncontrollable weapon."
Mortis blinked, "I don't understand."
"Let me explain," the voice of Spite said, replacing Aranea. "The original Cornelia Armin was a member of the generation before mine, and she had created in her youth a program to corrupt and weaponize the Crests of our enemies."
Mortis swallowed, "But how does that link to anything?"
"A few years before you entered service, I managed to successfully implant a second crest in the body of one particular Lysithea von Ordelia, though the operation caused the deaths of all of her siblings in the process."
"What does that have to do with the original Cornelia Armin?"
"Her experiments to corrupt the blood of our enemies ended in abject failure around the same time. The girl known as Hapi had no control over her powers," Spite scoffed. "The experiments were ordered to be shut down after the Myson of the time was overrun and slaughtered by wild beasts lured by the reckless use of the Crest of Timotheos."
"What happened with her turning traitor?"
"Envy," Spite replied. "She aimed to take the name of Periander upon the death of my predecessor, but I was named his successor before she could lay claim to the title due to my success on Blood Reconstruction."
Mortis nodded, absorbing the information, "How did you discover that she had turned traitor?"
"A minor beast incursion," Spite replied. "The location of the beasts was far too similar to where the previous Myson had been slain, so we raided the laboratory that she had used prior to the experiments being shut down."
"And you uncovered evidence linking her to the beasts?" Mortis asked.
"We caught her red handed." Spite said with a chuckle, as if he was sharing a joke with his sister. "She was standing over the unconscious body of the experiment she had previously been ordered to dispose of when we stormed through the door."
"And you killed her," Mortis finished.
"Naturally. I dislike leaving behind loose ends," Spite offered. "We dumped the corpse in Zaharas."
"And what about this Hapi?" Mortis asked. "Why wasn't she- well, disposed of?"
"Because Cornelia Armin was dreadful at taking notes," Spite scoffed. "No matter how much we ransacked her study, we could not find details on her results in regards to this Hapi, nor what processes she had used."
"And Lady Aranea was there to continue the work?"
Spite snorted, "No, my sister was there to maintain our position within the kingdom's political elite. In fact, the assassination campaign you and I completed was to dispose of agents the original Cornelia Armin had recruited whose loyalty we could not be sure of."
Despite the new information, Mortis yawned, desperately trying to blink the sleep from her eyes.
"Ah, I see that you're tired," Spite offered. "We'll let you sleep then, I can finish with Nuvelle in the morning."
Mortis closed her eyes for a long moment as the voice of Aranea came back on the line, "Mortis, don't worry about the little wolves, none of them would recognize you anyhow."
Mortis opened her eyes again as she slid onto her back, finding that her leg had fallen asleep.
"Aranea signing off," the voice of the woman said as Mortis drifted away.
"Mortis signing off," Mortis whispered as she lifted the headset from her head, her body slowly sprawling out on the cool floor as she fell into a deep sleep.
Ferdinand sighed as he washed the grime and sweat from his hair, dunking his head back under the cool water of the river he had camped next to.
"I wonder what I'll have for dinner," Ferdinand said. "Perhaps I can save the sandwich for tomorrow."
"Hey Yuri!" a far too familiar voice shouted. "Check this out!"
Ferdinand blinked a moment before he registered the muscle bound man throwing himself against the water, and only two moments before he was drenched, spluttering in stunned silence as the man resurfaced, roaring in laughter.
"What in the world?" Ferdinand asked as he blinked the water from his eyes, his face stunned as he stared at Balthus.
"Hey Ferdinand," Balthus said, grinning ear to ear. "Hey Yuri! Ferdinand is here too!"
A moment passed before Balthus turned to Ferdinand, looking at the noble suspiciously, "Hey, wait a second, what are you doing here anyways?"
"Finally you ask the right question," Yuri muttered from the shore. "Hurry up though, we only have a bit before the girls demand their turn in the water."
Ferdinand glanced up at Yuri before he wiped away his soaked hair, "What are you two doing here anyways?"
"What kind of dolls did Bernadetta make?" Yuri asked, his eyes looking down on Ferdinand.
Ferdinand gave the purple haired man a dirty look before he sighed, "Carnivorous plants."
"What happens to Constance when she's in the sun?"
"She switches off," Ferdinand growled. "She loses all confidence in herself."
"Deideru," Yuri snapped.
"Linhardt trapped Hubert on top of a tall building that he couldn't climb down from," Ferdinand sighed. "Ingrid had to fly her mount up to rescue him."
"He's the real Ferdinand," Balthus observed with a roll of the eyes. "Hey Ferdinand, you got any soap?"
"Balthus, I thought I told you to prepare better," Yuri muttered from the side of the river. "Still, it's your fault for trying to take a shortcut."
"I have soap if you want it," Ferdinand offered. "Please don't drop it, the river's currents are strong enough that we might never get it back."
"Hey Yuribird, B, we found someone's campsite. Looks like Imperial- oh hi Pompy."
"That's my camp you found," Ferdinand offered, "why are you here anyways?"
"We were digging through Arianrhod," Yuri admitted. "Hubert wanted us to see if there was anything that we could link to Edelgard's creepy uncle."
"You find anything?" Ferdinand asked.
"Only a symbol, we found a guy buried under a building with a symbol on his uniform," Yuri explained, his face impassive.
"Was this symbol an eye?" Ferdinand asked, his mind darting to the dead soldiers in the capital.
"How the hell did you know that?" Yuri asked, his face hardening.
"Because we found one as well."
The convoy trudged along slowly before stopping entirely, stopping before a large pavilion, well lit by torchlight.
"Well, it looks like we'll wait here," Yurius observed. "Looks like Mortis is going to have to wait."
"Why are you so concerned with her being alone?" Ignatz asked, taking a moment to clean his glasses.
"That's right. You mentioned that she travelled a lot, why is it so bad to leave her alone?" Leonie followed. "She can handle herself can't she?"
Yurius shook his head as the convoy shuffled forward, "She doesn't like Evi all that much. I'm worried that something might have happened between them."
"And why are you so concerned about Evi?" Leonie asked, stepping ever closer to Yurius.
Yurius shook his head and turned back to the convoy, "It's about the money again. Maya likes spending too much of it on Evi."
"I don't think it's too much," Ignatz said. "Evi must have lost all her clothes while travelling. There's nothing wrong with helping her back on her feet."
Yurius winced as he glanced up, the trees of the hills breaking out into a clear plateau.
"Yurius, why is Mor-"
A powerful trumpet drowned out Leonie as a thundering caravan pushed forward, a dozen heavily armoured guards following the various workhorses.
"May I have your attention please!" A voice shouted at the head of the convoy.
"You recognize the blond guy on the horse?" Yurius whispered to Ignatz.
"I- I can't see," Ignatz offered, his slender frame much smaller than the burly farmers who towered over him.
"Fucking Acheron," Leonie hissed. "Should have expected that snake was behind this."
"I thought we took him down," Ignatz muttered, his face scrunched in disgust.
"The professor had Hapi break off the chase to focus on ensuring we took down Judith," Leonie growled. "They let him slip."
"My fellow countrymen!" Acheron shouted over the din of murmuring. "I come here to ask for your support! With your help, I'll be able to break the chains of the cruel empire!"
Yurius glanced at Leonie, her face turning from disgust to murderous rage.
"That bastard is inciting rebellion?" Leonie whispered under her breath. "How stupid is he?"
Yurius almost laughed at the unexpected comment, but turned his gaze to the pompous noble on the horse.
"With this gold, I'll be able to buy an army to fight for our freedom!"
"Doubt it," Leonie muttered. "No mercenary in their right mind would sign up to fight the empire's legions. Not even Jeralt would have done that."
"Of course, I also ask for your support in this noble endeavour." Acheron continued. "It is only by our combined power that we can stand against the empire!"
"Where's our food?" A voice at the front of the crowd shouted. "We have families we need to feed!"
Acheron turned to the crowd, his face shocked at the prospect of civilians being disinterested in the idea of rebellion.
"Food! Food! Food!" The crowd chanted, surging forward in their rage.
"Silence!" Acheron shouted as he charged forward, waving a poorly maintained sword over his head. "I will not tolerate this behaviour!"
At the words of the count, the crowd surged forward, rushing desperately at the caravan as Acheron was torn free from his horse, disappearing beneath a crowd of charging peasants.
"Enough!" A second booming voice shouted over the din.
For a moment, the crowd stopped at the sight of a small army of soldiers rushing from the woods around the road, though the sight of the banner of House Gloucester resulted in no shortage of cheers from the crowd.
Seeing that they had been surrounded, the handful of guards who had followed Acheron turned and broke, hurrying to flee the way they had come.
A dozen heavily armoured riders promptly put a screeching halt to the escape, their lances forcing the small infantry brigade back, the soldiers of House Acheron dropping their blades one after another as they surrendered.
"Friends! Come, take what you will need, and eat well tonight." Count Gloucester called. "There is no need to pay gold for your birthright!"
"Well, that seems to be that." Yurius muttered as the crowd rushed forward, taking a moment to step forward, nodding to two approaching soldiers as he tore the hood from his head.
The first man shared his nod, the second one bringing a heavy hammer upon him.
Instinct allowed Yurius to dodge the blow aimed at his head, though the first soldier slammed the butt of a spear into his stomach, knocking Yurius back and expelling the breath from his lungs.
Even as instinct and his training screamed at him to move, the next blow found his arm, knocking him to the ground.
From somewhere in the distance, Yurius heard Leonie scream, followed with a panicked cry from Ignatz.
Then the soldier brought his spear down, and Yurius knew darkness.
AN: Chapter 22 is done. Do relax. Yurius isn't dead.
Next chapter:
Chapter 19: Para Bellum. Part 1.
Verrat.
Sticks and harsh language.
Chains and fire.
Fear and truth.
As always, review, follow, etc.
