Rigged from the Start

Chapter 67

Leaning on Friends

I found my cane. It was in splinters at the base of the Longfort, which made walking around after the battle a challenge. Especially since I didn't have any adrenaline pumping through me anymore. Every step I took made my knees knock and my head spin until I finally gave in and slumped to a seat on top of a piece of rubble.

My right hand trembled to my face, wiping away sweat and smearing dirt over my cheeks. A long breath puffed from my lips. I glanced around the Longfort, finally taking in the extent of the battle for the first time.

Bodies upon bodies lay on the wall and the ground, their eyes vacant and skin pale against the torchlight around them. Blood ran in heavy rivers through rainwater, even as the rain finally relented and gave way to a light shower instead of a downpour. The once solid, frosted ground had been stamped into red mud. Discarded weapons littered the area. Arrows jutted out of the soil like the spines from a porcupine, and craters pockmarked the earth from where spells exploded. Large chunks of stone from the destroyed tower lay like boulders among all the carnage. Destruction incarnate.

My dry lips smacked together. I could feel a pounding headache coming on. If I wanted to do anything about it, I'd have to find my way to a healer and ask for a spare vulnerary- if they had any. God knows I could use one. If exhaustion didn't cause me to fall face down in the mud, then re-aggravating my injuries would.

Boots squelched through the mud to my left. I raised my head and was surprised to see Prince Chrom walking to me.

The battle left the Prince looking tired and haggard. Scrapes and bruises littered his hands and arms. His left arm hung in a sling, and a thick bandage was wrapped around his forehead, staunching the blood from the gash over his right eye. He ditched his dented and charred armor, now wearing a simple, blue doublet with a blanket thrown over his shoulders. Overall, he didn't look half bad.

Chrom gestured at the large piece of rubble I sat on. "Mind if I join you?"

I nodded. "Be my guest."

The Prince let out a weary groan as he took a seat beside me. He rested his one good arm on his knee as he observed the battlefield, watching as survivors transported wounded to the clerics in the rear. The dead remained, but I was sure they would be taken care of as soon as the wounded were tended to.

Hard to believe seeing a dead body doesn't make me feel nauseous anymore.

"I didn't get the chance to thank you," Chrom breathed. "If you hadn't shown up when you did, Marth and I probably would have fallen in battle."

I glanced at the Prince. He did not look like a man relishing in victory. He looked like a man realizing how close he came to dying. Gangrel bested him and Marth, mostly thanks to a magic sword, but he still won. He had Chrom on the ropes, ready to kill him with a blast of lightning. An experience like that had to be sobering for a man, a warrior, so used to emerging victorious in battle.

"It was nothing," I grunted in reply. "Did what anyone would do."

"Not everyone would have done what you did," Chrom replied, his tone short and sharp, causing me to jerk back in surprise. "You returned to the battle despite your condition and did what you could to help. Few have the courage to set foot on the battlefield, let alone do so in a weakened state. So, do not discount what you did like that."

I snorted. "I'm sure I'll get an earful later from several people."

That made Chrom chuckle. "Maybe. I didn't say you were smart doing it, but I've done some pretty stupid things in the name of bravery before too. Also, you are not the only one who is going to get an earful later. Pretty sure I've got one coming too."

"Lissa, Emmeryn, or Sumia?" I asked.

"Frederick," Chrom replied immediately.

That caused a loud laugh to tear from my lips. A stray tear dripped from my right eye as Chrom chuckled with me. The amount of catharsis achieved from that one joke managed to make me feel a little lighter despite the devastation around me. Chrom clapped me between the shoulder blades as our laughter ebbed away.

"Really though, from the bottom of my heart, thank you." He exhaled as he looked around, a tinge of sadness returning to his deep blue gaze. I saw his jaw tense up a little as a wooden cart rolled towards the gate to start collecting the dead. "There are going to be a lot of pyres burning soon."

I nodded. "Yeah." My throat tightened. "Hopefully we didn't lose anyone."

"Did you see any Shepherds in the healer's tent?" Chrom asked.

I sucked in a sharp breath. Donnel, Henry, and Lissa were all there. From what I could tell, Donnel had been severely wounded but would live. Lissa arrived as I left for the battle, so I did not know how she was faring beyond Vaike's declaration that her legs were broken. And Henry was… Henry. I still wondered what wires got crossed in his brain to make him think all that blood was a good thing?

"Donnel, Henry, and Lissa were there," I muttered.

Chrom shot to his feet. "Lissa! What happened to her?"

"The infirmary collapsed on top of us. Vaike managed to get her free and take her to the healers, but she was banged up."

I didn't have the chance to say anything else. Chrom bounded away, any weariness he had replaced by worry and fear. He disappeared into the growing crowd of survivors moving through the area. Once he was gone, I sagged in my seat, running a hand over my eyes then pinching my nose.

I am not good at breaking bad news, am I?

A heavy breath sputtered from my lips. Donnel, Henry, and Lissa; were all down for the count early in the battle. I knew Frederick was injured too. But, like the walking tank he was, he kept fighting and manning his post despite his wounds. I didn't see him fall at the gate, and I didn't see his blue armor lying among the bodies clogging the road through the Longfort, so I assumed he made it to a healer on his own. Other than him, and Lucina though, I did not know the condition of the other Shepherds.

Did anyone else fall in the battle? Was anyone wounded? Were the Shepherds going to bury some of their own in the days to come? Memories of the future rushed to the surface, making my hands shake in my lap. Gaius's death, Tiki's death, and Anna's death shot through my thoughts like a violent bolt of lightning, causing terror to swell inside of me, making my chest tighten. That terror exploded when I realized something.

I hadn't seen Severa yet.

My gaze whipped from the gate to the wall. I scanned the battlements and ramparts, desperately searching for long red hair moving among the still standing Feroxi and Ylissean soldiers. When I only saw the usual army grunts, my throat constricted and my stomach twisted.

Maybe I can't see her from this angle? I sucked in a sharp breath, then rose to my feet, legs wobbling as I took a tenuous step forward. She might be in the tower with Robin. Yeah, that's got to be where she's at.

Small, thin raindrops pelted the top of my head and my leather pauldrons. My boots sloshed through water, blood, and mud as I shuffled towards the wall. When I reached the stairs, my head spun, and I slumped against the stone, nearly sinking to a seat as my legs wobbled. Shallow breaths shuddered from my lungs, drawing in flecks of rain and puffing them out as cold mist. I wiped some cold rainwater from my face and took one more shaky step towards the steps.

That's when I noticed Owain and Nah barreling down the steps towards me. Nah had a grim look on her face, but that was nothing new. Beyond her dour expression, she looked unharmed. Being a dragon in human form would give her some durability, I suppose.

But, Owain… he was not smiling. He froze when he noticed me standing by the stairs. Immediately, tears welled in his eyes as he approached me. A sinking feeling settled in my gut.

"Samwise," Owain croaked as he stumbled towards me. "I- we- Severa-"

Any weakness I thought I had evaporated. Both of my hands shot out and grasped his shoulders. Owain shook like a leaf in my grip as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Where is she?" I demanded, giving the young swordsman an unblinking stare.

Owain sniffled. "S-s-some clerics p-picked her up and took her to the rear," The dam broke for Owain as sobs wracked his lungs. "Sam, she was near the t-tower-"

My hands trembled as I kept a hold of his shoulders. "Which tower?"

Owain looked at the rubble around us. He didn't have to say anything else.

I spun on my heel, tried to run towards the rear lines where the healer tents were, and slipped in the mud. A snarl tore from my lips as I tried to scramble to my feet, only to fall into the blood and mud again.

A pair of strong hands hooked under my arms. I almost wrenched myself away from them until I realized it was Gregor helping me to my feet. A sympathetic look sat on the old mercenary's weathered face.

"Lean on Gregor. We go to healer together. Come, Owain, Nah."

Every fiber of my being wanted to shove away from Gregor and race towards the healer tents on my own, but my body betrayed me. I had no more strength in my legs. If I tried to go on my own, I'd end up face down in the mud, another cripple for the clerics to tend to. That was the last thing they needed.

So, I threw an arm over Gregor's broad shoulders and hobbled with him to the rear. Along the way, I found myself silently praying to whatever god could hear me that Severa was not dead.

I'm not sure what I would do if she was.

The screams hit me first. They were blood-curdling and bone-chilling cries. Yells of agony that made my hair stand on end. Groans and moans mingled with the screams of wounded, dying men and women, making my heart pound so hard I could hear it in my ears.

The stench hit me next. An overpowering scent of blood, gore, and rot smacked me. The smell was so powerful that I had to cover my nose with my hand. My eyes watered, and my stomach tied into knots as my worst nightmares played in my mind. Specifically, the one I dreamed of before the battle.

If I could make my feet move faster, I would have. But, I was barely putting one foot in front of the other. The only reason I was even upright was thanks to Gregor's generosity.

Despite my urgency, another part of me wanted everything to slow to a crawl. I was terrified of what I would see.

That terror was justified. Walking into the healer's large pavilion was like walking into a butcher's shop. Blood smeared the canvass walls in grotesque handprints and ropes of scarlet droplets. The mud beneath my feet had a crimson tinge that made me not want to wonder what had soaked into the soil. Thankfully, it was too cold in Regna Ferox for flies to buzz around, because they would have loved this place.

All of the cots were occupied with wounded men and women. All of them had a myriad of injuries, portraying a cornucopia of prolonged suffering behind the battlefield carnage. I saw soldiers missing limbs, their stumps bandaged tight as they lay curled up around their missing appendages. Bits and pieces of wrecked armor lay in a stack off in the corner.

Those who didn't need to lie down on a cot were sitting next to the walls: miserable and exhausted. A few weary gazes followed me and Gregor as I stumbled forward, moving towards Maribelle as she flew between cots with vulneraries, bandages, and her healing staff.

"Emmeryn!" She hollered, shocking me with her sudden lack of regal decorum. "How many more bandages do we have?"

"Not enough," The Exalt replied, her calm voice somehow rising over the moans and groans filling the air. When she spotted me and Gregor, sympathy washed over her face. My heart sank as she wiped her blood-stained hands onto her now filthy robes and approached us. "Are either of you injured?"

"Gregor has ear ringing, but nothing more," Gregor replied with a wave of his hand. He lifted me a little on my feet, taking the weight off of my numbing legs. "Samwise here needs vulnerary. Boy lacks man strength."

"You know why that's the case," I growled in reply, only earning a pat on my shoulder in response.

"Gregor knows."

"Yes," Emmeryn nodded serenely. She drew in a deep breath, using a scarlet finger to pull a frayed lock of her blond hair out of her face. Her blue gaze focused on me. "I can get you a vulnerary, but you will have to leave immediately. We do not have the room to accommodate-"

A snarl slipped from me. "Where's Severa?"

Emmeryn's eyes closed. "Samwise-"

I glared at Emmeryn. The only thing that kept me from stomping towards her was Gregor's firm hand grasping my shoulder.

"Where is she?" I demanded again.

Emmeryn did not respond. But, behind her, I saw Maribelle's eyes flit off to the far corner of the tent. That was all I needed to know.

Adrenaline shot through me again. I managed to tear free from Gregor's grip and rush past Emmeryn, despite her protests. Gregor said something about grabbing me, but I ignored him.

I flew through the rows of cots and wounded until I reached a cordoned-off corner of the pavilion. A higher concentration of clerics and priests moved among the wounded back here. My heart jumped to my throat when I heard several of them giving last rites to already dead or dying soldiers.

A heavy hand grasped my shoulder, making me jump.

"Samwise, come," Gregor said, his voice calm yet firm. "Healers must work."

I shrugged his hand off. To my surprise, he did not try to stop me as I shakily strode towards the cordoned-off space. A couple of clerics and priests gave me anxious, worried glances as I moved among them, but they did not move to stop me either.

My throat tightened when I moved past the blood-stained sheet separating the corner from the rest of the pavilion. Only a few cots sat in this area, and they were all occupied. Dented, shredded armor lay scattered across the floor, along with blood-stained rags. I covered my nose and mouth with my hand as the smell threatened to make me vomit.

The poor souls in these cots were bloody wrecks; skin and muscle torn open not by blades, but by devastating spellfire. Burns littered the wounded here. My hands shook.

Then, I saw Severa.

She lay on a cot, eyes closed, head on top of a pillow. Her red hair was pulled back behind her head, matted with blood and grime. Bandages were wrapped around her forehead, with several splotches of blood leaking through them. Her lips were split and cracked, bruised black and blue. Several more gashes littered her cheeks and chin. A sheet covered the rest of her. A few dark splotches sat along the sheet, especially around her chest and arms.

Her armor lay beside her cot, and my breath caught when I spotted it. Her gambeson was nothing but leather tatters. The chainmail that sat beneath it was melted and twisted. The rest of her clothing was nothing more than rags, either destroyed in the tower explosion or cut away by healers.

Everything felt numb as I trudged towards her bedside. My legs finally gave out when I reached her, sending me to my knees as a sharp gasp shuddered from my lungs. My throat and chest tightened. Tears misted in my eyes, and my chin trembled as I bowed my head.

Footsteps approached me from behind. A heavy breath sounded, but I did not raise my head to acknowledge it. I didn't want to look up and see how broken Severa looked.

"Gregor knows," Gregor said, sympathy filling his voice. "War… this is result. Shame."

Words failed me. All I could manage was a weak croak as my forehead pressed against Severa's bedside. Another shuddering gasp rattled my lungs. Tears burned down my cheeks as all of my composure threatened to crumble. Gregor gave my shoulder a gentle rub.

"We should go," He advised with a mutter.

I shook my head, but I couldn't muster the strength to resist. Gregor grasped me by the arm and lifted me to my feet. He hooked my arm over his shoulders and dragged my limp, exhausted body out of the medical pavilion. Through my teary eyes, I spotted Maribelle approach us and hand Gregor a vulnerary.

"Have him take this," She said, giving me a concerned look. "Samwise, I promise someone will fetch you when Severa is more stable. For now, go rest, pray to Naga, do what you must to find some solace."

I swallowed hard but still couldn't say anything. If I tried to speak, I would only manage to sound incoherent. My feet dragged behind me as Gregor practically carried me away from the healer pavilion towards the somehow still intact barracks. As he carried me, one thing sat on my mind.

The nightmare I had, where Severa lay on the walls, dying. For some reason, I was starting to think it wasn't a nightmare after all, but something far worse.

Me and Gregor were the first people to return to the Shepherds' barracks. The silence within was sobering and stunning. After all of the horror, chaos, and noise of the battle, quiet sounded wrong.

But, quiet is what I needed. The quiet allowed me to grieve without being bombarded by all the pain around me. It allowed me to digest everything that happened.

That did not mean I did a good job taking in what occurred. When we got into the barracks, I stumbled my way to the barracks kitchen and rummaged through cabinets until I found an entire bottle of firewine. I squeezed that bottle tight as I set it down on the counter and wrestled with the cork.

"Damn it."

I grit my teeth, jaw tight as tears still blurred my vision. My hand slipped from the cork, causing a cramp to surge through my fingers and an enraged snarl to erupt from my lips. I grabbed the bottle by the neck and raised it, ready to launch it across the room.

Gregor grabbed my arm. He gave me a stern glare as he kept my arm from surging forward. Then, he pried the bottle from my hand and nodded to a chair.

"Sit," He ordered.

He said it with such firmness that I felt compelled to obey. My legs wobbled to the closest chair. When I slumped down into its warm embrace, I sighed, then shielded my eyes as more tears dripped down my face. A harsh sniffle shot through my nose as I continued to fight off sobs.

Glasses clinked from the common room's kitchen space. A cork popped, and firewine flowed into a pair of glasses with quiet trickles. Heavy steps approached me, causing me to let my hand fall from my face.

Gregor held a glass out to me with one hand while he held one for himself in the other. I eyed the glass, swallowed hard, then took it. The old mercenary gave me a nod before taking a seat in a chair next to me.

A heavy breath exhaled from his nose as he brought his glass to his lips. My glass stayed away from my lips, surprisingly enough. Just seconds ago I wanted to down an entire bottle of firewine in one gulp. Now, with Gregor beside me, I couldn't work up the energy to sip a glass of liquor.

Gregor took another sip from his glass then glanced at me.

"Good," He commented, "you slowed."

I snorted, then finally brought my glass to my lips. I took a sip, let the alcohol burn on my tongue, then swallowed. My face wrinkled as it torched my parched throat. "I don't normally act like that."

"Gregor knows," He nodded. "Owain spoke highly of young Samwise. A moment of weakness now is natural."

I snorted. "Weakness?" My glass touched my lips again and I took a longer sip. "Feels a lot worse than weakness."

"It's not bad thing," Gregor followed up. "Any man would be like you now."

I sniffed and wiped at my eyes. "A complete wreck?"

Gregor bobbed his head back and forth. "When someone a man cares for hurt, all masks gone. Not bad thing. Release is needed, or you grow worse."

A bitter laugh left my lips as I hunched over in my seat. Both of my hands clutched my half-empty glass of firewine. My gaze fixated on the empty fireplace, looking at the stone smothered in soot and smoke. My throat bobbed when the nightmare I had shot through my mind again.

"How do you handle this?" I wondered out loud, not intending it to be a question for Gregor. Nevertheless, he answered.

"This, sometimes." He raised his glass. "Other times, company of friends works. Shutting friends out though?" He shook his head as he crossed his right leg over his left knee. "Never work. Gregor learn this over many years and much loss." One of his calloused hands reached over and smacked my shoulder, fingers gripping it tight and giving me a small shake. "Severa will be okay."

My lips thinned into a line as more tears threatened to cascade down my cheeks. "You saw her, didn't you?"

"Yes," Gregor replied, his hand falling from my shoulder. "Gregor's seen worse before. Saw worse in rest of healer tent."

That was a sobering statement. Severa was in rough shape, but Gregor was right. There was worse in the healer pavilion. I still did not know how healers and clerics like Lissa, Maribelle, Libra, and Emmeryn did it. Seeing one good friend injured was enough to knock me to my knees. I couldn't face the constant barrage of suffering and carnage like they did.

I ran a hand over my mouth as the pungent smell of firewine wafted into my nose.

"She'll be okay?" I muttered.

Gregor nodded. "Tough girl."

I grimaced. Severa could be the tougher than the hardest steel, and it still might not be enough. But… worrying like this was only going to make me go gray. It did not help the situation, and I think Gregor was trying to tell me that in his way.

"Thanks," I mumbled to the old mercenary before sipping my glass again.

Gregor gestured at me with his glass then tipped it back, draining its contents down his throat. Once it was gone, he let out a loud exhale that happened at the same time as the barracks door opening.

"Lucky! Ya in here?" Gaius called as he shut the door behind him.

I glanced over my shoulder. Gaius was one of the few Shepherds that did not look worse for wear. He still had dirt, grime, smoke, and flecks of blood on his skin, but none of it was his own. He was slippery in combat; I knew that firsthand. A few scuffs and tears littered his clothes and cloak, but he was otherwise unscathed. Seeing that produced the first bit of relief in me all day.

"Good to see you, Gaius," I said, a sad smile on my lips.

Gaius clapped my shoulder before taking a seat across from me and Gregor. "You too," He crossed his legs and stretched his arms over his head. When I didn't say anything to him, his eyes slowly widened. "What happened to Ginger?"

"Oy," Gregor cut in, making Gaius freeze in his seat.

"I'm just asking the guy," Gaius defended. "She's my friend too, geez. Although, I'm nowhere near as close as Lucky here is, but-"

"She's badly wounded," I mumbled, making Gaius's words die in his throat.

Gaius's arms fell to the armrests of his chair. He blinked, then nodded as his lips thinned into a line. "Well… fuck."

I snorted. "That about sums it up."

Gaius took a deep breath, hopped to his feet, moved to the kitchen, and grabbed an empty glass along with the bottle of firewine. He quietly poured himself a drink before returning to me and Gregor. After refilling our glasses, he puffed out a long breath and ran a hand through his sweaty, orange locks.

"How bad?" He asked.

I swallowed hard. "Bad enough, but… Gregor thinks she'll live."

"That so?" Gaius remarked. "When did ya take healing lessons, Gregor?"

I could tell Gaius meant for that comment to be a sharp jab. But, Gregor did not take it that way. He rolled with Gaius's words, shrugging as he brought his drink to his lips.

"Never," Gregor grunted. He sipped then lowered his glass. "Gregor been on many battlefields. Knows things; some good, some bad. Seen bad wounds often. Severa not worst, but will need to time to heal."

"Ah," Gaius nodded, his tone lacking the bite his previous comment had. "Experience. Gotcha." His lips twitched after he took a long gulp from his drink. "Tell me, Gramps, how long have you been at it?"

"Gramps?" Gregor scoffed. "Gregor not old enough to be gramps."

I couldn't help but let out a quiet chuckle as my glass hovered near my mouth. "How old are you then?"

Gregor gave me a sidelong glare. I swore, I heard Gaius snickering under his breath. A snicker he muffled by taking another drink.

"Forty-six," Gregor answered.

Gaius choked on his firewine. Harsh coughs shot from his lungs, followed by a weak wheeze. He sucked in a sharp gasp and gestured at Gregor.

"You-" Gaius coughed into his arm. "Damn. You're a gramps for this line of work."

Gregor leaned back in his seat, a small smirk flashing on his weathered face. "Heh, maybe."

"More like definitely." Gaius wagged a finger at Gregor. "Remind me not to fuck with you."

"Are old people off your usual mischief list, Gaius?" I asked.

"Old people in a young man's profession are," Gaius retorted as he sank into his seat. "Old fools like Gramps here know tricks that would make my life pretty miserable if things got nasty."

That caused a chuckle to rise from Gregor. "For young thief, you're wise."

"I'm not a young thief. Middle of the road in terms of age actually," Gaius remarked. "Sam's getting up there for a thief, aren't ya?"

I cracked a weak smile. "I've never really been a thief, actually. Unless you count stealing pastries for my mentor as thievery."

"Bullshit," Gaius said. When he saw I was serious, he arched an eyebrow. "Huh… no kidding then. How long have you been at this game then?"

"A year and a half, just about." Both Gregor and Gaius gave me wide-eyed stares. "What?"

Gaius tucked his chin. "You must've had one hell of a mentor then, cause you're damn good at what you do, Lucky. That, or my nickname means something for a change."

"Probably a bit of both," I admitted. Brief memories of Anna and Gaius from the future went through my mind, causing the corners of my mouth to twitch up. "And yeah, I had a pair of good mentors."

Gaius nodded. "Well," he reached out with the bottle of firewine and filled up my glass to the brim, "care for two more?"

I looked at him puzzled. "Two more?"

"Gregor," Gaius turned his head to the mercenary, "how do you get through a bad day like today?"

"Company of good friends and lots of drink," Gregor declared.

"Exactly! So, Lucky, allow us to teach ya how to forget about today. Gregor says Ginger's gonna be fine, right?" I nodded, then Gaius continued. "And, I'm sure the healers are looking after her. So, we're gonna sit here, drink, and talk nonsense until all that we can think about is nonsense rather than the past few hours."

A quiet snicker left my lips as Gaius downed his entire glass in one gulp. Gregor chuckled with me, before following his lead. After taking a heavy breath, I tipped my glass back and gulped the firewine down. My face screwed up tight as the liquid burned down my throat and settled like hot coals in my gut.

"Shouldn't we be… hooo." I exhaled, then took a deep breath. "Don't you have a job to do right now, Gaius?"

"Not really," Gaius shrugged. He filled all three of our glasses again. "Plus, everyone else is busy doing stuff I ain't interested in doing. Whiskers is helping clear debris with that big, furry form of hers. Kushi went with the rest of the friendly Plegians away from the main camp. Mustafa thought that'd be a decent way to ease tensions."

"Makes sense," I nodded.

"And Red is salvaging weapons and armor from the dead," He grimaced. I frowned. Gregor looked less than happy by that too. "Can't blame the girl for picking out stuff to sell,' Gaius finished with a shrug.

"She could've waited a day or two," I muttered, shaking my head.

"Anna's will Anna," Gaius pointed out.

Gregor hummed in agreement. "Prince will say something."

"Oh, I'm sure he will," Gaius nodded. "The question is: will Anna listen?"

"Flash enough gold and she will," I muttered into my drink.

Gaius almost spat out his firewine and Gregor uttered a heart-warming chuckle. The conversation devolved from there until we all drank enough firewine to forget how we even started talking.

Gregor turned out to be right. A drink, and good friends, helped. But, Severa pulling through would help more than anything else.

And chapter! The come down from the battle, always a tough thing to write, in my opinion. As you can see, not everyone got out completely unscathed. We've got some bad injuries, but thankfully, Emmeryn is alive and she is one heck of a healer. Anyways, not much else to say about this chapter. Let me know what you all think of this chapter! As always, I hope you all enjoyed it! Have a nice day!

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