Chapter 37: The Winding Road
I think this story has just about reached 100k words with this chapter. Woo! I like to measure personal writing success through my word count, so this is good for me to see. For me, writing a fan fiction that's novel-length is a good measure of my passion for my work, so it's good to see that it still hasn't faded away yet. Let's keep this good thing rolling!
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The caravan that had left Garreg Mach Monastery that crisp morning was rather long. Granted, long caravans of carts and horses were hardly an uncommon sight, given that the monastery was the center of both Fódlan's religious world and the headquarters of the legendary Knights of Seiros, but on that day, the train of travelers was definitely larger than normal. And it had every reason to be, as the students of the three houses of the Officer's Academy were heading out to Gronder Field, territory of the Adrestian Empire, to participate in the long-awaited annual Battle of the Eagle and Lion.
Well, long-awaited for most of the student body, at the very least. At least a good ninety-five percent of them. An example of that figure in action would be the large cart occupied by the House of the Black Eagles. A majority of the students (excluding Linhardt, who was currently fast asleep and slumped over in his seat) were all sharing the same wavelength of energy and excitement. Caspar in particular was practically bouncing up and down on his bench at the thought of finally facing the other students in fierce combat, a battle with honor on the line. Even Edelgard seemed to be enjoying herself, allowing herself a light smile at the idea of leading her charges into battle as House Leader. The exception to this mood, of course, was Bernadetta von Varley.
It was as if Bernie was trying to physically merge with the wooden walls of the carriage, she was pushing so far up against one of the back corners. She wasn't entirely sure if it was the rather winding road that the wagon train was taking down the side of the mountain that the monastery was on, or if it was her own nerves, but she felt like her stomach and intestines were tying themselves into knots. Having shoved down a bunch of sweet breads and pastries for breakfast in an attempt to calm her nerves most certainly didn't help either. Regardless of the reasons why, the entire experience was making Bernie sick.
"Just breathe in and out, Bernie. In… and out. In… and out," the Varley girl's brain was repeating to her over and over again. Every repetition was punctuated by the sound of Bernadetta inhaling and exhaling loudly and deeply through her nose.
Regardless of how hard she was trying to stay calm and collected, a thin sheen of sweat was starting to form on her head and brow. "Air, you need some more air!" the recesses of Bernie's mind warned her next.
Before she could put direct thought into it, her body made the decision for her to open up the nearest canvas flap that was covering up one of the wagon's windows. Saying it was a window was being a bit generous, as it really was just a square hole with a rim cut into the walls of the carriage. It was by no means luxurious, but such wagons were certainly durable enough for long-haul trips. There was a reason that these wagons and carriages were used frequently by the Knights of Seiros. Where there was no comfort, there was durability and fortitude instead.
As soon as the flap was opened, Bernie's face was hit by a cool gust of wind. Although winter had long since passed everyone by, the altitude of the mountains meant that even on a temperate day there could be chilly winds. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing, of course. The breeze instantly dried up the rivulets of sweat on Bernie's face, and the small shock of the cold brought her back to her senses somewhat. There was a certain quality to the mountain briskness against the skin of her face that Bernie found agreeable. It was probably one of the few decent physical sensations that came with the concept of leaving her room.
Through her nose, Bernadetta kept on taking in that cool, crisp mountain air. It wasn't a very common sensation for her, as someone from the Varley county. While it certainly did have its hills and mountains, it was a particularly arid region, where many varieties of grass and tree did not dare to grow. And even whenever one of the Adrestian Empire had one of its frequent muggy summers, that only made the county feel even hotter than normal. The weather in the central mountains was nothing like home, probably for the better if she was being honest with herself.
"I'm sure that Sylvain is used to weather like this," Bernadetta then thought to herself, letting her mind wander as she allowed herself to calm down a little.
Was he, though? Sure, Faerghus was a generally a cold-climate kingdom, but the Gautier lands were on the borders of Sreng, the great northern desert. Maybe he was more used to places like the lands of Varley? It was only a hunch, though. Sylvain never really brought up the topic of his home in their conversations. Given how much Sylvain resented his Crest along with some of his family members, the reason for that was pretty clear. He shared what he was willing to with her, and to force more information out of him about that would just be cruel. Bernie certainly didn't have the ability or means to do that in her.
Regardless, the idea of Sylvain being used to an arid environment was somewhat intriguing. That meant that if he were to ever visit the Varley lands, he would be fairly comfortable. Of course, that was presuming that the both of them would be able to go there together. For all Bernie knew, Sylvain had to return to the Gautier lands once his education at the Officer's Academy was finished. But it was at least nice to indulge in the mental fantasy of it all.
Yes, it was all very clear in the eye of Bernie's mind. She could see it now: her and Sylvain wandering out in the dry hills of Varley, out of the view of the scornful and controlling view of her father. They would hunt for desert flowers by day, and by night they would return to their secluded cabin where they would dance and sing, or perhaps make each other laugh with funny stories they would tell one another over a warm dinner. And when they slept in the same bed together, she would be able to hear Sylvain's heartbeat through the soft skin of his bare chest, listening to the faint pitter-patter of his heard as he cuddled her in warm embrace that she would never want to leave.
A light red blush grew across Bernadetta's face. It was thoughts like those that made her truly treasure the presence of Sylvain in her life. If he just held onto those thoughts in the meantime, then perhaps the caravan ride over to the Gronder Field wouldn't be so bad after all.
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Meanwhile, farther up in the caravan line, Sylvain let out a mighty sneeze. The backlash was enough to send him reeling, which was a bad thing considering that he was currently riding on the back of a horse.
"Goddess bless you," Ingrid off-handedly said from her own mount.
Sylvain rubbed his nose. "Thanks. Man, this cold air is getting to me today."
"It is kind of dry, isn't it?" wondered-aloud Ingrid.
"Yeah, a bit," Sylvain agreed. "Hopefully I won't get a cold or something before the big battle. I mean, how much would it suck to get sick right before the Blue Lions' time to shine?"
"I'm sure that we would shine regardless of your presence," snarked Felix from his own horse.
Sylvain let one of his trademark self-assured smirks cross his face. "Hey, never underestimate the power of a good cavalier. I'm gonna get a lot more people before you finally manage to run up to someone to whack them with your sword."
"Do you want to keep count during the battle then?" Felix then wagered.
"How can I be sure that you won't just fluff up your own numbers?" Sylvain teased back.
"Pffft," Felix scoffed, "I'd hardly have a reason to. If anything, that's something you're more likely to do."
"It would be for the best if we didn't turn the Battle of the Eagle and Lion into a 'sword'-measuring contest," Ingrid commented, although neither Sylvain or Felix paid it any mind.
"We can make that bet even more interesting," Sylvain then leered. "What do you say about the person with the least number of kills having to do one thing for the winner, no matter what it is?"
Felix, against all of his better judgement, actually began to consider the wager. His confidence in his swordsmanship skills was just that strong. "Define 'anything', Sylvain."
"No weird sex stuff, of course," immediately stated Sylvain. "I think the both of us could agree to that."
"Right," Felix nodded along. "That's being kept off the table."
Off to the side, Ingrid seemed to be trying to consider something, as if she was trying to picture something clearly in her mind's eye. A small bit of redness spread across her cheeks at the same time she rolled her eyes at whatever she imagined, before focusing her gaze back on the winding road in front of her.
"But anything else goes. What do you think?" Sylvain offered.
Felix furrowed his brow in thought for a moment, before relaxing them as he made up his mind. "Fine. But don't come crying to me when I beat your score."
Sylvain clapped his hands together. "Great! I'll make sure that you eat those words, Felix," he said, adding in another wide grin.
"You're talking too much," was Felix's jab back at Sylvain. "Keep it up, and you'll bite your tongue riding your—HRRRKK!"
Before Felix could finish his sentence, a hand shot up from holding the horse's reins and his eyes shot wide open from a sudden influx of pain. Both Ingrid and Sylvain couldn't help but have their attentions drawn by the sudden agonized groan of their friend. They both saw Felix then lower his hand, revealing his teeth to be bloodstained as he wore a large, suffering grimace on his face.
"You were saying, friend?" Sylvain teased some more.
"Fruuch yeeew," mumbled Felix through his closed jaw. Then, with a snorting noise, Felix leaned back before letting a huge wad of spit fly from his mouth. Although it was mostly directed to the side of the road that everyone was traveling on, it was very clear to see that it was colored the bright red sheen of blood as well.
"Eugh," Ingrid groaned, slightly disgusted.
Felix frowned at Sylvain specifically after turning his head back around to face him. "Just so you- ow, know, I bit the side of my cheek, not my tongue," he pointedly said.
Sylvain shrugged. "I guess you've got me there. You're not so completely unfortunate after all."
"You're the unfortunate one," Felix shot back, now cradling his right cheek in his palm.
As if an electric shock went through his body, Sylvain over-acted his response to Felix's jab. "Oh man, that on hurts. It really does, right in the heart. I'm not sure how I can recover!"
"Enough, you two," scolded Ingrid to Sylvain's side. "I'd rather just focus on what's coming up at Gronder Field in more practical terms. Try to focus more on that and not your bet."
Sylvain let out a small chuckle. "Sure, sure. I've had my fill of fun for now anyway."
Felix, on the other hand, just let a light snort out of his nose, nodded at Ingrid, and then focused his attention back on riding his horse. He was more than eager enough to put the embarrassment of biting the inside of his mouth accidentally behind him.
With all of that said, the only thing left laying in front of everyone was that road to Gronder Field, from Garreg Mach to the Adrestian Empire. No matter what twists and turns were waiting for them, it was doubtlessly going to be a time they wouldn't forget. Unforgettable memories were about to be forged at that one heath, for better or worse.
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Even though this is a bit of a transitional chapter, I still had a lot of fun writing this one. It's also a good chance to get in a bit of levity before the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. There's going to be a lot of action during that part of the story, so some fluff and comedy beforehand is nice to get everyone's palates cleansed and ready for it.
Anyway, this is The Draigg, and I'm signing off on this chapter for now!