He wasn't surprised that Katarina joined the fight. He wasn't quite expecting the younger Ascart to hold onto her like a backpack and use her magic to help his fiancée dance around the battlefield like she did, but it was a welcome surprise nonetheless.
Keith Claes' magic was too strong. Gerald saw Alan and Mary Hunt also help out, so he quickly informed them of the current strategy. The lady lacked the ability to cut distance like Katarina and Alan did, so Gerald sent her closer to Maria Campbell and the guards that hadn't rejoined the fray. Gerald himself accompanied her, but only to get himself patched up with the blonde's light magic before going back.
He didn't need Maria Campbell telling him about the elder Ascart still being around the golems. He could hear the sonic booms even while falling back with Mary Hunt. He was exactly six golems north and eight to the west, relative to the little healing camp. At least the last time he heard the wind explosions.
What were the measures of the golems? Maybe with more light, Gerald would be able to measure them. But as things stood, it was a fool's errand. One the prince didn't have the time to humor.
He had only enough time to catch his breath, clean the blood off his sword's handle and try (but fail) to steady the shaking of his hands before falling back to the battle.
With Keith Claes already in Maria Campbell's care, they only needed to wait for him to snap out and call back the golems. However, and given how he was giving zero responses when Gerald got there, that seemed fairly unlikely. The prince pooled his energy back into the fight, helping Katarina destroy joints from the golems, rotating which he attacked to mark the pace of the fight, as well as giving everyone chances to see with his fire magic.
That had been the plan, at least from the moment Nicol-sama charged in alone.
Gerald had been careless. Time and time again, Keith Claes denied him victory and got away without them anywhere close to capturing him. Gerald should have known things would go wrong even when got the edge on the conflict.
"Hang in there…" Gerald wheezed as his muscles flared with the effort he was doing "I'm not… Done with you…!"
Maria Campbell's eyes almost got out of their sockets when Gerald came back with the elder Ascart on his back.
The guy was heavier than Gerald expected. The prince almost dropped him before the standing guards helped him get him off on the ground gently, the remains of his garment hanging by threads to his torso and exposing the brutalization he went through.
If Gerald had been bloodied, Nicol-sama had gone through a verifiable bath of blood. His left eye was shut tightly from how swollen his face was, the shoulder on the same side inclined too far out to be unbroken. He had slammed onto something on his way to the fight, but hadn't noticed until he ran out of steam… Gerald stopped going in that line of thought. He didn't need, nor want, to know these sorts of details.
Maria Campbell went to work, but was stopped by Gerald before she could start. He was aware the noble was just barely hanging on to life, but he needed to do this before.
As if he had always been a doctor, he used his hands to push the shoulder back where it should be, making sure to do it in a way it wouldn't hit something else, and just ruin the mage's body beyond recovery. Gerald closed his eyes and spun back his legs to how they should be, making the light mage cringe with the sickening snaps that came out of Nicol-sama's body.
Then, Maria Campbell started healing him.
He didn't know if it would make a difference, but it was worth trying.
The prince went back to the fight, where he gave a glance and formed a pattern in his mind to follow.
The damage had piled up, and they still had enough firepower.
He commanded his men and finally began dwindling the numbers among the golems. Less efficiently than he would have liked, but the combined effort of everyone working together finally broke through Keith Claes' power.
He couldn't remember when dawn came. He couldn't remember when the sun eclipsed his own fire and allowed everyone to breathe peacefully, as Katarina cut the last golem in half with her magically-forged sword.
For how long had they been fighting? Counting the previous attempts it was 6 days and 22 hours, 34 minutes and who knows how many seconds.
Taking into account Keith Claes had effectively held the whole academy hostage 4 days after Nicol-sama left, that made 3 weeks, 2 days, 18 hours, 37 minutes, and a lot of seconds since this all started.
More or less, Gerald could be missing some minutes in the calculation. But that was enough for him.
"Why?!" He snapped out of his thoughts when Maria Campbell yelled. When was the last time he had been this tired? "Nicol-sama… Nicol-sama...!"
Gerald kept quiet, seeing the people lose their minds as the light mage hugged the elder Ascart to her chest. He turned to see Katarina hugging her unconscious brother and the younger Ascart close to her, and only being prevented from running to the noble by that reason.
He stared down at the raven haired noble, a lot of information popping into his mind as he did. He couldn't make an educated guess about the guy's condition without checking, but that wasn't necessary.
He looked so peaceful, caked in his own blood but completely healed up otherwise. His features brought unpleasant emotions to the front of Gerald's mind, scenes that played out as vividly as if they had just happened yet that were ignored all the same.
When was the last time Gerald had been so done with everything?
He knew he should feel something, anything really. But it had been far too long. Never before had he exerted his abilities like this, never had he needed to rely on anyone to get by and bring the best results ever. And yet, in the eve of this seemingly pyrrhic victory of his, he felt something even worse than emptiness.
Those dark orbs weren't opening. That venomous tongue wasn't uttering cutting words. By all means, this should be something to be celebrated. Something the dark magic had made as evident to him as his love for Katarina about Gerald. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to feel joy about it. The void quickly became something else. Colder, far more horrible.
Gerald pushed his tired body forward, dropping to his knee and taking a lungful of air before covering Nicol Ascart's nose with two fingers, and his mouth with Gerald's own.
Live.
Gerald separated and gave rhythmic pushes to Nicol-sama's chest. The timing perfect, the execution flawless.
Come back.
He took another lungful of air and started anew, without wasting time in trying to hear if the mage's heart was beating or not.
Don't leave.
How long had Maria Campbell been healing him for? Minutes? Hours? How plausible was it for Gerald to pull this off? How plausible would it be for anyone else to?
"You crass, obnoxious, repulsive man. I'm not done with you." Gerald barked between his teeth, his concentration wholly on the technique he was performing. Otherwise there was no point. Otherwise, anyone would do a better job than him.
Nicol-sama spat something that might as well have been a piece of bone, Gerald dodged it with a mere tilt of his head in an instant.
There.
Gerald Stuart, everyone. The genius prince that can even revive the dead, apparently.
He sighed, features hard in spite of the weight that just washed off his back. He caught his breath for a moment before getting off Nicol-sama's body and properly addressing the expectators.
Gerald must have kept up his frown, because only Alan's face showed relief change his features. The blond prince coughed on his fist.
"He will recuperate."
He tuned the cheering out and tried to fix his suit by reflex. He didn't have it. He was also lacking one of his shirt's sleeves, and one shoe. He hadn't realized, and his mind traced the events back to try to find where they could have ended up.
The battle was a hazy memory. He couldn't remember.
It didn't matter, so he stopped trying.
"Gerald-sama…" The young Sophia dropped to her knees, hands clasping at the hem of the prince's dirty vest. She spoke amidst sobs, but Gerald didn't need to hear them to know what she was trying to say.
He looked at Katarina, still holding the perpetrator between her hands. Her face had contorted into a very unlady-like mess. Had she been like any other high society girl, her make up would have caked her face like a clown. Yet this was Katarina, so of course she wore no makeup to speak of. Gerald waited until it was appropriate to move the younger Ascart to let go of him and slowly walked to Katarina.
"It's over." That was a lie. There were a lot of things to sort out, many which would require the Claes to do something about their younger child.
None of that had to be in Katarina's mind, though. Not yet, at least.
Katarina held her brother even closer, quick nods in place of any answer Gerald would get.
He wanted to be a good fiancé, to hug her and reassure her. But for perhaps the first time in his life, Gerald Stuart had no energy to do so.
He still lifted Katarina's face and smiled weakly at her.
"It's all going to be alright." He whispered. His voice wouldn't go any higher than that.
Again, Katarina nodded. And Gerald renewed his march towards his room. He needed to report to Sirius-kaichou but… That could wait. Or Alan could do it, he knew what to do after all.
He saw Katarina's maid on his way back. She was crying, fist balled in impotency, head hanging low. It must have been hard to be in her place, seeing Katarina leave to fight yet being powerless to do anything about it. Gerald played the event in his head. He could almost guess the words the maid said to Katarina, begging her to come back safely when trying to stop her failed.
He nodded at her, placing a hand on her shoulder. He said the one thing the woman wanted to hear and allowed her to rush to her mistress when the news hit her fully.
He continued to walk.
Gerald arrived at his room and quickly ordered his priorities. He took the stuff he needed and headed to the makeshift showers, not too far from the dorm.
They had been created with the help of water and earth mages. The water deposited in a way that was easily accessible for the nobles trying to wash, and was refilled periodically to keep hygiene and morale high enough.
He mechanically washed himself, and got dressed. He made sure to get rid of the dirty water and headed back to his room. There was no one waiting for him, but that too was of his own design. He climbed on top of the bed and closed his eyes.
Too close. That was far too close.
He held up as well as he could, but it had still been way too close.
He gave up on his responsibilities for the rest of the day. Gerald deserved to rest as much as he wanted after 3 weeks, 2 days, 18 hours, 37 minutes, and a lot of seconds of only sleeping about 3 hours per day and in intervals of 30 minutes at a time.