Chapter 78: The Deserter

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

A/N: Still trying to get back in the swing of things. Eventually, I'll get back to uploading every Friday by 5:00 CST. I'm trying hard to reach that point again. (Unfortunately, I'm still recovering from an all-nighter I had to take for a couple of midterms I had yesterday.)

Yeah, I read the recent review, and I hear you. I'll look back over the earlier chapters again and fix that. I'm also hard at work at editing the other parts of the story. It's a huge volume, so it'll take some time. I appreciate the feedback!

N: Our story shifts to a man who used to have his whole life dedicated serving the Bernese Crown. But, events occurred that forced him to turn traitor. This chapter focuses on the story of the Deserter, Heath.


Several years ago...

Heath looked down on his target from his Wyvern high above a coastal plain in Bern. There was a shadow of concern in his eyes as he watched the frightened and defenseless villagers below him scramble into their homes, the ones caught out down on their knees as they begged for their lives. The weight of his lance increased with the confliction in his heart.

These are the rebels who dare to stand against the authority of our King? He thought while avoiding the gazes of his fellow soldiers. They're common peasants! They haven't a single sword to their name!

Heath heard a voice chirp out from his right side. It was from his friend and wing mate Isaac, an amicable and jovial man with raven hair. He was the heart in the quartet in their trusted friend group, and as the most confident, he could not stand by as his countrymen stood at the brink of disaster.

"What...is going on here? Our men are roaming the streets and ripping civilians out of their homes. The men, the women...and the children, too. None of them act with a hint of hostility towards our king. Why...are they rounding them all up at the village square?"

Another voice rose to explain the situation, or at least tried to. It was from Lachius, the unquestionable brain of the group. He was cold, calculated, and always carried himself with a rationale unmatched by any other knight in the unit. In another life, he would probably have been involved in the field of science rather than battle, but his plebeian birth meant this was the only possible avenue of social advancement. His gray hair suggested wisdom wrought from experience, though he was the same age as his peers.

"I'm sure there's a reason behind this. General Vila is not a man who would order his men to cut down civilians. Such a thing is a complete and unnecessary waste of life. If the King or his advisors found out, he'd lose his job, if not his life. The villagers must be hiding their rebellion. Why else would our soldiers be preparing to set their homes alight?"

What?!

Sure enough, Lachius was right. Soldiers were collecting tinder and spreading it around the bases of the wooden straw huts. Mages spread out with fire tones in hand, in a formation that suggested they aimed to cover as much area as possible. Heath's earlier glimmer of concern morphed into outright fear, as did many of his comrades in his unit.

Then there was Belminade, the resident introvert. His pink hair had relegated him to much ridicule both in childhood and adulthood, though his military service had done much to shake many of the chides at his expense. Thankfully, his friends had grown to see past his embarrassing physical trait and instead knew him for his insightful, passionate thoughts.

He said, "This...does not make any sense. These villagers...I know these villagers. My sister is a nun at a convent here. She never spoke the king wrongly, nor did she ever toy with the possibility of rebellion. It took me a while to realize since Vila never mentioned the settlement's name in our orders, but...this place...these people. They would never turn coats against the king."

Heath looked at his friend with an expression of shock, as did his peers. Silence filled the air, and for a second, all one could hear was the wailing of women, the sobbing of children, and the bleating of sheep in a barn. No one knew what could be done, though morally, everyone understood what was right. It was only a matter of organization, and a consolidation of will.

Such a task fell upon the unit's leader, Vaida.

"Men!"

Vaida was a short, stout woman with a build befitting a ranking member of the military. She had short, golden hair, and a brash, authoritative voice that could shake insubordination from any rookie. Her vain, cocky attitude mixed in well with the high standing her unit felt about themselves, and this sense was expressed in many respects. None more so than their moral character and honor.

The whole unit, about twelve strong, looked towards their commander. They stayed in their standard "V" formation in the sky, the unit having been placed outside the village so they could eliminate any insurgents that tried to flee. However, such a thing may have been unnecessary...it was at what cost? To disobey any order given directly by a superior was abject to treason, a crime of which was punishable by death.

She said, "We will approach. Keep the formation close and keep your weapons ready."

Lachius raised his hand to protest, but her look alone was enough to dissuade dissent. Questioning one's commander was also considered treasonous.

Vaida checked her flanks before leading her unit to the village. As they flew through the sky, Heath stroked the neck of his trusted Wyvern, Hyperion. The nervousness in his skin was obvious to the experienced rider, and he felt it necessary to put his animal at ease. His welfare was important to him, since no matter what happened in their lives, they always had each other. Friends came and went, but wyverns were tied to their masters for life.

This very fact would become the most significant in Heath's life. Especially since he would soon be seen as a traitor by the very country he loved.


Present...

"Heath! I need you!"

Heath's ears perk up, alert at the order given to him by Commander Eubans. He moves with haste as he and his steed ride towards the side door of Fortress Gracia. His superior is there to meet him, and he has a stern look about his face.

"I'm here, Commander."

Eubans wipes some dust from his tuft of gray hair. The sight reminds Heath of an old friend he used to know, someone who was now long dead. He and everyone else from his old unit.

Eubans says, "You've come quick, a mighty good soldier you are. I trust you'll execute your next assignment without issue."

"...That's expected."

"You will attack from the west of the fortress. You'll be leading the spearhead which will be instrumental in putting an end to the whole group. It's imperative you do not fail."

Heath raises his brow, perplexed. "I don't understand. Why are we engaging with this group? We have no reason to. Lord Darin abandoned us and disappeared. It's not like he intends to pay us."

Heath had participated in the defense of Laus, though he only skirmished with the enemy forces with no loss of life. He and the rest of the mercenary group had been abandoned once the nobleman left his country, though, arguably, they still had a sense of honor to respect. They never completed their task of defending the Marquess.

Eubans says, "We must honor Marquess Laus' call and do our duty. Regardless, we cannot stay in Lycia and longer. We rebelled against Ostia, and we are hunted. We have no place. If we take their heads, we could be accepted in the Black Fang. We can find protection among their ranks."

Heath shakes his head. "As a knight and a man, I'm opposed to this plan. There are women and child— woah! Who is that you have in your possession?"

Heath's eyes widen as he notices a small girl unconscious on the side of a nearby wall. She has white hair, and a prominent black eye patch over her right eye. Her arms are tied together with a thick piece of rope.

Eubans says, "The men and I found her when we started our attack a few moments ago. She was in the way, and we had to remove her."

"...That mark on the back of her neck. You—"

"I did what I had to do to make sure we succeed in our mission. And you will as well. As you know, we must execute every single person in this fortress so he doesn't leave witnesses. That includes this little girl."

Heath feels his heart drop. A bead of anxious sweat appears on his brow. "Surely, you don't mean—"

"I do. Take this girl and kill her in the nearby forest. Then come back and do your duty."

"...Mhm."

Heath hesitates, and he looks again back towards the little girl. Then his gaze shifts back towards his superior.

"...I cannot do that. Please, you mustn't."

"You can and you will. She's of the age to recall memories rather well, and she could incriminate us to Marquess Ostia. It's best we don't exacerbate our bounties to the point that even the Fang won't take us in. Act quickly."

He turns his back on him and then walks away. Heath can only stand there and stare at his hands. The hands that used to belong to an honorable wyvern knight of Bern, but now to a soon-to-be murderer of innocents.


In the past...

Heath's hands shivered as his eyes parted from the burning roofs of what used to be village homes. His skin tingled with their warmth, though his soul felt colder than ever. He could only watch in utter shock as he observed his comrades, those of whom fought for the Bernese King and his subjects, kill the very people they swore to protect.

Then, the ringing of metal sounded as a lance fell onto the stony ground. It belonged to Belminade, of whose sister was a nun in this very town. Tears fell from his eyes as he languished on the tragedy of it all, though his wails seemed to fall on deaf ears.

Heath laid his hand on his friend, as did Isaac. Lachius observed the destruction at Vaida's side with the very same cold look he always had, though he took to be observant. His eyes peered through the smoke and flame, radiating with conviction as they locked onto a gathering of cowering villagers by a church.

"The army has slaughtered much of the populace, but some have taken shelter in the house of Elimine. It won't be long until they fall upon them. There has to be about two dozen souls in there."

The path to take was obvious, yet hard to commit to. The attempt of a stoppage of the slaughter would result in them all becoming enemies of the state, a frightening proposition that meant they'd all never be able to call Bern home again. They'd never be able to call themselves soldiers of the crown, and would lose their right to the pension they earned at the end of their service. But...all those things. Was it worth it to give it all up?

None of the men were philosophers, especially not Vaida. Words were never her strong suit. Neither was thinking very hard. Her heart told her to do one thing, and she could not hold it in any longer. She took to her steed and raised her lance. She pointed the tip of her weapon towards an approaching squad of riders coming to lay waste to the church.

That was all her soldiers needed to see. It was a silent decision. By raising their lances, they committed to fighting against their brethren, and opted to protect the innocent. They chose to follow through with the honor code every knight abided by from the beginning of their training. But they could have chosen to act differently. They could choose to not raise their weapon and retreat away, back towards the main force. Or they could fight their wing mates. For every man in the unit, the answer was final and resolute, and of their own volition.

"...Forgive us, King Desmond."

In the end, they all raised their lances.


In the Present...

An Ostian foot soldier comes rushing in through the hallway. When he arrives at the lords' feet, his face is red with exhaustion, but he still musters the strength to deliver his message.

"Milords, we're under attack! They approach from the eastern gate!"

His words compel the group to silence. There's hardly a stir within Lyn, Eliwood, Hector, Canas, Ninian, and Nils' in his comatose body. However, resolve soon takes hold. The lords spring to action just as a handful of their allies stream into the room.

Hector says, "We must act quickly! Let's move Nils to the healer's room. He'd do well there."

Ninian protests, "No! We...mustn't. Just leave him here. Don't move him...please."

There's a reason behind Ninian apprehension. But they lack the time to inquire why. Understanding this, Eliwood says, "...I'm sure you have your reasons. We'll have to hold them off."

Lyn scrambles to rally together a few troops to their side. Some of them are drowsy from having been awoken in the middle of the night, while a few are absent. This included Erk, Serra, and Laniakea.

Laniakea...

She immediately stops what she's doing when she realizes Samuel's niece is nowhere to be seen. She frantically scans over the area for that child's familiar tuft of white, but sees nothing. Her skin turns stone cold.

Kent rides over to her side. The usual cold shoulder is noticeably gone, though in its place is a sight of pure fright. Concerned for his liege's condition, he asks, "Milady? What is the matter? You look as though you've seen a ghost."

"...Laniakea. Have you seen her at all recently?"

Kent raises his brow, perplexed by her inquiry. "No. I have not. I rushed here as soon as I could, but I did not see the child on my way here."

Lyn falls silent. Then she draws her blade. The Mani Katti glows in the darkness, emanating a vibrant white. But, oddly, it also exudes a hint of green. A foreign presence in a holy weapon that represents so much to its wielder only.

Kent observes as Lyn closes her eyes, as if lost in thought. She stands there for a moment. Then she opens her eyes. There's a fire in her eyes, befitting a diligent daughter of Hanon. She only has a few words to say to her red knight.

"The enemy has kidnapped Laniakea. If they do anything to her, I'll make sure they regret it."


Heath has reached the forest near the Fortress Gracia. He places the child near a tree overlooking a small creek, the water peacefully flowing. The moon allows some light to bleed through the light canopy above their heads, of which illuminates the child's face. The former Bernese knight wishes he hadn't been forced to see her face as he does the deed, but he doesn't want to risk making a bad strike in darkness. The cleaner and quicker the death, the better it will be for her.

He draws his blade and observes a glimmer of moonlight reflect off its metal. Rather than his typical lance, he opts to pick up a short sword for the task. He's not proficient with it, but it will do.

The autumn leaves crunch underneath Heath's feet as he approaches her. They're heavy, much like his heart. He truly does not want to do this, but it is an inevitability since he chose to bundle his fate with Eubans and his mercenaries.

...So this is what I've become now. Pity...

Heath raises his sword. It's time to do his duty.

"...Mhm?"

To Heath's shock, the girl gradually breaks out of her unconscious spell. She ruffles for a bit on the dry leaves and opens her sole eye. Her orb of red meets the knight's own pair of gray. The rare color of her eyes is enough to compel him to freeze.

"...What? Who are you?"

The girl attempts to move her hands to wipe her face, but she cannot due to her bonds. Then, she tries to move her feet to similar results. Terror soon washes over her face as she realizes that the stranger in front of her has a sword in his hand.

Her voice trembling, she says, "Oh no! Where am I?! What did those scary people do to me?! Why am I tied up?! Where is Lyn?!"

Tears stream from her face, a large quantity dripping onto the dead leaves underneath. She is inconsolable, evident in her descent into a panic attack. She's not intelligent, but she recognizes when she is in mortal danger.

"I don't want to die! Someone please help me! SAMMY!"

The sight of a wailing innocent kicks Heath's knightly training into high gear. Without thinking, he drops his weapon onto the ground, allowing its tip to imbed itself into the dirt. He reaches out and grabs onto her shoulder.

"It's okay. Calm down. I'm not—"

"No! Get away from me! EEEEEEEEK!"

!

Suddenly, an abrupt gust of wind knocks Heath off of his feet. It does so with so much force that he slides on the ground, eventually resting just underneath the feet of his waiting wyvern. Hyperion strokes his master with his head to make sure he's okay, after which growling at the little girl.

Tasting crimson on his lip, Heath shakes the ringing from his head. What? He observes the surrounding air. That's odd. What a forceful gust of wind! But so random. The wind hadn't picked up at all until that very moment.

Heath shifts his attention back to the little girl, and oddly, the girl has quieted down. In fact, her head drops, seemingly from exhaustion.

"...Uh...mhm...so...tired. Some...one...please...help..."

Then, out like a light. Her body gives out, and she once again falls into the realm of unconsciousness. Heath approaches the girl again and sees his sword hasn't moved where he had left it. His hand tingles from what he had considered doing, but now after some thought (and perhaps influenced from the hit he just took), he understands he cannot go through with the order. If he had, he could no longer call himself an honorable man, and would turn his back on the very ideals he held paramount in his life.

He takes the girl on his back and walks back towards Hyperion. He will not end the girl's life. Rather, he will do what his morals tell him to do as he's fed up with the actions of Eubans and his mercenaries. He will return the girl to the army.

Then he will raise his lance against the men he once fought beside.


Blood curled screams fill the air, and the scent of iron oozes from every corner. Scores of men and beast clash within the cramped corridors, The fighting in the fortress has since intensified to levels unfelt for a long time.

General Galeforce rallies his men in league with the forces provided by the allied lords. They create a front at every entrance to their position, forming a shell of protection catered towards the defense of the more vulnerable members of the army. Ostia's heavily armored knights buckle their shields as they battle with the hostile mercenaries, eager to prove themselves in front of Marquess Ostia's younger brother.

"Form a wall!" Galeforce says. "We mustn't let a single enemy break through! This lot is nothing compared to our neighbors! Persevere!"

Unfortunately, such talk does not belong to a general with the command of a large legion of men. Although the fortress usually sported a force of fifty knights, many of them have taken leave due to a holiday, meaning they only wield a fraction of the force. Galeforce has already sent for some of them at a nearby village, but it will take a while for them to arrive. All they have to do is hold out.

"Hwaaaaugh!"

Lyn's knees grapple as she leaps from the saddle of a horse, her blade dripping in a river of crimson. Still in the air, her eyes burn with a fire unseen. The head of a mounted mercenary flies through the air, unceremoniously landing with a thump.

Her feet seamlessly touch the ground, and her gaze shifts towards her next enemy. He's an archer with his weapon pointed at the red knight guarding her flank, Kent. She raises her sword to continue the fight, but before she can, something flies from the periphery of her vision.

!

It's an arrow, and it embeds itself directly into the archer's dominant arm. The pain is enough for him to release his projectile wide left, allowing Kent to deal with the man on his own. Turning her head, she realizes her helper has come from a person she'd met once before under similar, hostile circumstances. His nomadic wear, green headscarf, and silent face makes his identity obvious.

"Rath?!"

Rath of the Kutolah. He is here with a mercenary force, one of the first to have received Galeforce's orders. The man squints his eyes as he observes Lyn's figure from his position atop a staircase, and his eyes glimmer with a hint of shock.

Kent rides over to his liege's side and wipes some blood from his lip. "Huh. Is that...Rath?"

Lyn nods her head, too flabbergasted to say much else. The last time she'd seen him, he sat in the prison of Castle Caelin after trying to kill Samuel. The man had apologized for his actions and Lyn convinced her grandfather to let him go upon vowing to never do such a thing again (Sacaens famously never lie). Since then, Lyn had only heard stories of his whereabouts, though nothing concrete.

!

"Milady!"

Kent nudges his steed forward just in time to parry the hammer of a charging assailant. He and the man grapple, a surprising feat considering Kent's mounted advantage. This goes on for a few seconds until Lyn finds an opening to approach.

"Get away from him!"

Noticing her advances, the assailant's eyes widen with shock. He steps back, releasing Kent from his hold and just barely parries Lyn's strike. However, he is not able to set his feet in between switching opponents, and the anger behind Lyn's force pushes him off balance. He falls onto the ground, drops his weapon, and finds himself incapacitated with the Mani Katti above his throat.

Unimpressed with how his fight turned out, he says, "So, are ye going to kill me? It's shame enough that you had to rescue your manservant over there."

From her adjacent position, the Sacaen receives a better look at her new prisoner. He has an intimidating figure, with bulging muscles, pasty skin, a thick bushel of brown hair, and freckles across his face. He has scars all throughout his arms and neck, with the most prominent on the side of his head. His green eyes are static and uncaring. Oddly, the man looks vaguely familiar, though Lyn can't surmise why. Regardless, she presses her sword down upon the man's throat, enough to break the skin but not enough to seriously injure. The axeman winces with pain.

Lyn says, "I need some information from you. Are you Fang?"

The assailant hacks and coughs out a wad of saliva and snot onto Lyn's feet. He speaks with a scruffy tone.

"Bah. Like I'd tell you. Women like you should know your place."

Lyn's right eye twitches with annoyance, but she doesn't react. Instead, she motions towards Kent. "Roll down his left sleeve. Everyone in the Fang has a tattoo on their upper arm. It looks like a black snake with venom dripping from its fang."

Kent does as he's told, a task made much easier by Lyn's actions, and the absence of other enemy soldiers nearby. He reveals that axeman does have a tattoo there, but instead of a black snake, it's a skeleton holding onto an hourglass.

Kent mutters, "Well, that puts that theory to rest."

Lyn presses further, "You are not a part of the Black Fang. What are you doing here? Have you seen a white-haired child recently?"

"Like I said before, I ain't talking to no—ack!"

Lyn adds a little more force onto the grip of her sword, letting a stream of blood trickle down. The axeman's eyes quickly transform from defiance to outright fear.

"I don't think you have a choice in the matter. I don't want to kill you, but I will."

"...F-Fine! We're wanted by Ostia because of our role in Laus' rebellion against them. We're here because our commander thought if we eliminated you all, the Fang would happily allow us into their ranks. F-For the little girl, I heard that the commander sent for Heath to kill someone of that description in the nearby forest. By now, she's probably already dead."

"...What?"

Lyn's heart squeezes as if ensnared by a bear trap. Her throat tenses up, and a cocktail of emotions injects itself into her veins. She nearly loses her grasp on reality, but somehow, she stays the course.

Lyn lowers her head, her hair dropping to cover her eyes. She lifts her sword from the axeman's throat. "Leave," she says.

He doesn't think twice. He breaks into a sprint, escaping past a corner. His direction suggests that he doesn't intend to return to his army, but towards the open wilderness outside. If the mercenaries find out about his treachery, death is certain.

Lyn sheathes her sword and sits on a flat, idle piece of stone rubble. She sits there in silence, with her hands covering her face. Stricken with grief, all she can do is blame herself for letting Lani out of her sight. She not only allowed the demise of the child in her negligence, but failed to uphold the one thing she promised to herself when her fiancé perished. To defend the person he traded his life for.

Rath approaches her, and so does Kent. But Lyn rejects both of their attempts to console. They are the last people she needs at this time.

Kent says, "Milady, are you okay?"

Lyn responds coldly, "No. I don't need you to help me. You are the last person I need help from. Return to the front and allow me a few minutes of repose."

They obey her orders, and leave. Now alone, tears begin to blot from her eyes. They fall and drench the ground with her sadness.

Grief. Sadness. Pity. These are all things Lyn feels on a consistent basis. The only question is when will it end?


"Let's go, Hyperion!"

Heath weaves his steed through the tight corridors of the Fortress Gracia, doing so at breakneck speed. At first, his free flying demeanor has Eubans' mercenaries confused at the sight, but Heath's message makes his intentions clear.

One mercenary exclaims, "Heath! What are you doing?! Get into position!"

Heath smiles and then weaves Hyperion down to attack the man that shouted at him. This particular person has caused him much pain for disavowing the morals he cherished so much. His lance impacts the flat side of his shield, shattering it, but breaking his wrist in the process.

"Ack! Heath's gone rogue! He's sided with the enemy!"

Lifting his reins up, he dashes away from the mercenary's rear just as a hailstorm of projectiles are sent his way. He takes to approach from a different angle with hope of catching out some isolated soldiers, or to perhaps meet up with the lords' army.

With the wind at his face, Heath realizes there's no turning back now. Hopefully, the girl riding behind him will serve a peace offering towards them, otherwise, the man might just ride to his death. He hopes that the stories of their kindness and generosity weren't made up.

Heath locates a different passageway through to the center. To his benefit, he realizes that a few of the allied soldiers, a monk, and two swordsmen, are engaged with several of Eubans' men near a stone pillar. They are losing and would need some urgent assistance.

Now's my chance!

Heath readies his lance and rides straight into the mage delivering support from the rear. The poor man never stood a chance, as the knight impales straight through him with his lance. His scream notifies his four peers of his presence, though, by the time they come to terms with their situation, they know it's too late.

From the air, Heath removes the lifeless mage from the tip of his spear. His body falls onto the ground, an ample metaphor for their fleeting chances at winning this fight. The smoke from the mage's magical fire creates a smokescreen around the battlefield, a scene that gives the man some deja vu.

This smoke. He thought. Boy, does it bring back some memories.


The past...

The smoldering embers of the village pushed smoke into the sky. Wyverns and their riders streaked through it, dancing in a fight for life and death. Men called for their mothers as they screamed their last. But it was all for naught. It became abundantly clear that their unit's efforts were in vain, and the village, along with all their inhabitants, would be lost.

"Commander Vaida..." Heath choked through the smoke. "Our unit has taken heavy casualties. Balminade, Isaac, they're all..."

Vaida wiped some blood from her forehead. "I know. The village is lost, and there's no point in fighting. We have failed. But General Vila is an ambitious man. I've only just recently realized what he set out to do. He falsely reported this village as rebellious and intended to raze it to improve his standing with the King. Now that we've stood in defense with the commoners, Vila will no doubt blame me for miscommunication, and shift the fault of the commoners' death onto us. We will all be branded traitors and hung."

Heath frowned, but this was to be expected. Everyone understood the consequences of what would happen if they were to defend the villagers. But, hearing it from their commander, the woman they held up and looked to for support, held an extra dose of pain. The villager's lives were taken advantage of to push the career of a heartless traitor of the people, and so were theirs.

Vaida tightened her grip on her lance as she observed her soldiers fighting the army in vain. "There's no point in fighting anymore. We must consider our lives on the run. Heath, take the others and run."

"What?! But what of you?!"

She shook her head and gave a cocky smile. "Do not worry about me. I'll give these louts more than their fair share. I am a respected Sergeant in his Majesty's wyvern knighthood. I can take a hundred men."

She waved her hand at Heath. "Go! While you still have time! As for you, I hope you have a good life, Heath. Disguise yourself and go into exile in Lycia. Try to settle down, and perhaps you'll find yourself living in peace."

Then she vanished into the mess of fighting. Heath took whatever men he could and escaped into the nearby hills. The handful of survivors separated then, and that time was where he said goodbye to his friends and comrades...

But even now he still thinks about what happened to their beloved general. Had she died with the others, making Heath the final survivor of the unit? Or did she survive? Only fate knows.


"Hands up! Who are you?"

"My name is Heath, a former knight of Bern. I believe I have some cargo of interest to guarantee that you won't bring me any harm?"

"...On Saint Elimine's good name! You've brought Laniakea! Lyn was looking for her!"

"Oh, so that's the girl's name. I would like to speak to your leader about joining up with you folks. As you can see, I'm no longer employed."

"Guy, take the sleeping girl to be tended to. As for you, I cannot guarantee you a role within our army. However, we are recruiting, and this will most certainly put you on good graces with lords. If not, I will be your mouthpiece."

"...Excellent. In that case, I think that leaves you, me, and that red-haired fellow. I held some rank in the mercenaries' forces, and I know the strategy they are employing. Follow me, and we'll put an end to this battle quickly."

"What?! What do you mean by that?"

"What I mean is that the commander only has a small entourage defending him while the main force is involved in a frontal assault. We take care of the commander, and everyone else can scamper away."

"I see! Let me call for our two pegasus knights to aid us. We'll do as you say!"


"Heh...that was a doozy."

Heath winces as Priscilla applies a healing spell to his bloodied stomach. Eubans had given him a beating during their fight with him, but in the end they prevailed. Eubans, the man who ordered him to kill an innocent, was now dead. His mercenary group has since dispersed into the wilderness, disbanded for the foreseeable future.

Heath and the rest of the army are tucked away in the castle's main hall while the lords speak to Marquess Ostia, who'd recently arrived after they pushed back the mercenaries' attack. The quartet of nobility has taken to the throne room while the rest of the army sits and licks their wounds.

Priscilla finishes her spell, and then sighs. "You were quite reckless out there. But, I must admit that were not for your actions, I think we would have fared much worse. I would much rather spend my time healing my friends than burying them."

Heath replies, "Eh? I take it you've suffered some casualties recently. Am I right?"

Priscilla solemnly nods, and Heath takes the gesture as a hint not to press the issue any further. Instead, he asks about someone he hasn't seen for a while.

"And...that girl. Laniakea was her name? What's come of her?"

Priscilla gives a light smile. "She's all right. She's tired, probably from the stress of being kidnapped. You have my sincerest thanks for that. She and Nils are like the two children of the army. To many, they feel like a son, daughter, or even a younger sibling. If anything were to happen to any of them...well..."

"I think I know what you mean. I'll take note of that, and I accept your thanks. I was acting in accordance to my ideals instilled to me as a knight."

"...I see. It's fortunate that we have all these knightly types here. It makes the surrounding air...honorable."

Heath chuckles and looks out towards the pathway to the throne room. Likewise, a smile streaks across his face, too.

"Yeah. I guess you can say that."


"My brother, it pleases me to see that you're alive. If another day went by with me in the dark, I think I would've arranged your funeral rite."

Hector smiles awkwardly, and scratches the back of his head. It's an unfamiliar gesture, and Lyn, Eliwood, Leila, Matthew, and Ninian all raise their brows. Regardless, he replies, "Sorry, I've been a bit busy."

Uther shrugs his shoulders from his position in his throne. His thin, blue beard looks rough and disheveled, a notable juxtaposition to the noble's neat armor. "Yes...Leila's last report has covered much. Eliwood, my apologies for what happened to your father. I was powerless to help."

What?

Lyn feels...a little disturbed by Uther's concern for Eliwood's father, but more for the spy who nearly died in service of him. Apparently, the thieves notice this as well, and both of their postures shift in a manner that's barely noticeable. Regardless, neither make their feelings known, as is required of their service to one of the most powerful houses in the region.

Eliwood replies, "No...Nothing could have been done. More importantly, we met a sorcerer who...do you know of Nergal?"

"Only what was reported to me. I understand that he appeared a year ago and seized control of the Black Fang. Then he ensnared Laus against Ostia. I can't see what he's after..."

Eliwood lowers his head, a sense of dread clearly visible on his brow. "The dragons that vanished after the Scouring...He wants to...bring them back again."

Uther's eyes widen with shock. "What?! That can be done?"

"Yes. Let me explain..."


"Ugh..."

Lyn sighs as she picks at a fresh scab form on her right hand. It comes from a blister that has recently popped, having been formed from the excess pressure on her hand from wielding her blade. At her side, said weapon sits idly, content to rest in its master's bedroom.

Whew. What a day.

Her bedroom is a quaint establishment with some decent furnishings, a well-made bed, and more importantly, a personal bath. Despite Lyn's protests, Uther had insisted she take the room often given to travelling princesses, though, if the warm running water was any indication, she's glad to have been pressured into the matter.

I haven't had a good bath in some time. We didn't have warm water in the plains, but this is surely something the Lycians have us beat.

Lyn looks over at her side and sees Laniakea sleeping soundly on her bed. Having her in her protection gave her much relief, as the sorrow and guilt would have been a damning burden to carry. She'd showered her savior with a storm of thank-you's and the like, though, as a former knight, he only replied that "it was my duty to save the innocent." Lyn made sure to remember his name, Heath, and to persuade the other lords to allow him into their ranks. A role within their army was a small reward for his heroics.

Lyn sits down on her bed and strokes the white strands of hair on Lani's head. Her mind wanders to the discussion in the meeting earlier that night...

Despite the showing at the Isle, the wounds he suffered there has made Nergal very weak. But the Fang is making moves to ensnare the country of Bern under his grip. The dark sorcerer hopes to use the large, militant country to advance his will, having done much to curry the King's favor. This cannot be allowed, and the lords would be travelling to Bern first thing tomorrow morning if not for a suggestion at Uther's behest.

"...If there's time, head for Missur. Go to the Nabata Desert, you may find aid there. It is said that a living legend resides within its sands."

A living legend. Lyn wonders what the nobleman meant when he said that. When inquired for further information, the Marquess only placed a finger over his lip, and smiled. He couldn't dwell any further, as if restrained by some agreement unbeknownst to them. All that Lyn knows is that they are to head to the desert, and that she should procure a hat to protect the head of her dear Lani. She's unsure if the tike tans well, but she'll not leave that up to chance.

Lyn looks out towards the moon hanging high in the night sky, allowing herself to take in its blue light. A part of her feels incredibly worried. Thus far, they've avoided any losses after losing their tactician, though they were fortunate to have not stumbled on a precarious situation. However, eventually, that will not be the case. At some time, the army will face adversity that will test their will and ability to cooperate. If they fail, they will lose more to death's embrace, just as they already have for Oswin and Samuel.

Lyn's heart sinks to the center of the earth. It's because she understands that it's not a matter of if the army will suffer deaths again. It's when.


A/N: I would really appreciate it if y'all took a little bit of time to respond to the poll I've had up for some time now. Currently, Fir has the lead with 4 votes, Shanna has 3, Lani has 2, and Sophia has 1. Thank you!