Echoes: Tale of the Holy Knight

by Author Nicholas Drew

This is the tale of a holy knight in the continent of Jugdral. A man who only wanted to protect his homeland, his friends, his family. But in the process, he ended up losing everything. This is the tragic tale of Sigurd, Holy Knight of Grannvale. And this is part 1 of the Genealogy of the Holy War Trilogy, given the Echoes treatment by yours truly.

4. Chapter 4: Prologue - Part 4

A.N: Here we go, the last part of the prologue. This has been great to get out. I hope everyone's been enjoying it. It is time to witness the birth of a holy knight of Grannvale.

Prologue, Part 4: Birth of a Holy Knight

The final push had officially begun. Grannvale soil had become Verdane soil as Sigurd's small band of warriors pushed across the bridge dividing Grannvale and Verdane. Inside Castle Evans, Gerrard had a look of pure rage and frustration on his face as he marched through the main hall to join his forces. The situation had gone from bad to worse in a matter of minutes.

I can't believe Gandolf lost! He acknowledged inwardly. One of the two strongest men not of royal Verdane blood and he just got incinerated like it was nothing!

One Verdane soldier ran up to Gerrard's side. "Is the guy who killed Gandolf and his forces still marching with the Grannvalians?"

"No, sir," the soldier replied, "it seems he left."

"Good, then we may still have a chance." Gerrard nodded. "We'll make a final stand here in front of Castle Evans."

"Sir, do we even have a chance?" The soldier asked. "I mean, these Grannvalians drove off our advance force, and even killed DiMaggio."

"DiMaggio was trash, and you know it." Gerrard snapped before sighing. "And if we do go down like that idiot, we'll at least go down fighting. We're Verdane soldiers after all, and that's how we're going to die if that's how it ends."

"Yes sir," the soldier muttered in defeat, knowing there was no way to dissuade Gerrard.

This would either be the moment where the soldiers of Castle Evans became legends or it would be their last stand…

Meanwhile, Oifey gazed at the small group of soldiers standing in front of Castle Evans through his telescope. "Well, Oifey?" Sigurd asked, riding alongside his squire and tactician.

"This is far more manageable, we can win this." Oifey reassured Sigurd with a smile. "When this is over, we need to find a way to really thank Lord Arvis for all his help, because he single handedly made this a winnable battle for us."

Sigurd chuckled. "You're right," he acknowledged, "when this is over, I'll invite him to Castle Chalphy. Perhaps a nice dinner in his honor, or we could all just enjoy some wine. Quan, Arvis, myself, and maybe even Eldigan if I can drag him away from Nordion long enough."

"With how busy Lord Arvis keeps himself, I think he would like that very much." Oifey replied. "You better remember that promise, Lord Sigurd."

Gerrard soon emerged from the castle, glaring at the charging Grannvale force. "CHARGE!" He screamed to the soldiers under his command.

Sigurd watched as men with axes flanked by bowmen came charging towards his group. "Here they come!" He warned his soldiers.

"Sir Midir!" Oifey yelled.

Midir narrowed his eyes. "Taking aim." He muttered, notching an arrow in his bow. He then yelled. "Vengeance for Yngvi!"

Midir let his arrows fly into the crowd of Verdane soldiers. Lex looked over his shoulder at Azelle, who was riding behind him on his horse. "Don't let yourself be shown up, buddy. I'm sure you want to tell Lady Edain how hard you fought for her sake." He encouraged his friend.

Azelle nodded and lept from Lex's horse. "Fire!" Azelle exclaimed, brandishing his Fire tome and blasting the crowd of enemy soldiers.

Verdane's soldiers quickly countered with a volley of arrows. "Evasive maneuvers!" Sigurd ordered as the large swath of horsemen began to scatter about to avoid the volley of arrows.

"Ethlyn, stay close to me!" Quan ordered his wife as the two moved off to the side.

Azelle looked up at the arrows in terror. He did not have much in the way of defense compared to Lex and the others. "Don't falter, Lord Azelle!" Azelle turned to see Marah running up to him, opening her own tome. "Be smart and use the flames of Fjalar to your advantage!"

"Elfire!" Marah yelled, creating a much larger fireball and launching it at the arrows coming directly towards herself and Azelle.

Azelle gasped. That was right, these flames can certainly incinerate mere arrows. And calm and clever Marah was there to remind him. It made him want to give thanks to his brother for leaving her with Sigurd's group.

"Fire!" Azelle contributed his own flames to Marah's attack.

The combined flames burned several of the arrows, protecting both Azelle and Marah from home. Azelle's expression became somewhat disheartened, however. He knew that most of the destruction came from Marah's flames. She was one of the best from the Rot Ritter after all, just like her sister, Aida.

A stray arrow was unknowingly coming towards Azelle, who was distracted due to his frustration at being weak compared to Marah. Marah noticed first and gasped. "Lord Azelle!" She exclaimed.

A large mass managed to move in front of Azelle just in time. The arrow clinked right off of the body that protected Azelle. Azelle gasped. "You...you're…"

Arden looked over his shoulder and smiled. "You doing okay, Lil' Lord Azelle?" He asked. "I'm glad I got here in time to protect ya!"

"I'm fine," Azelle smiled, "thank you for saving me, Sir Arden."

Marah breathed a sigh of relief. Aengus sped up to Arden and patted the man on his armored shoulder. "Good moves, big man," he praised, "you're strong and tough for sure."

Lex breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of his best body being safe and sound and turned his attention back to the Verdane soldiers. "You guys are certainly unfriendly." He muttered before his horse leapt into the crowd. Hooves trampled a few of the men before he began swinging his iron axe at the ones still standing.

Alec and Naoise stayed close together, charging right into the crowd of Verdane soldiers. Their contrasting styles of battle shone through in this moment. Naoise struck methodically at each Verdane soldier, aiming for vital areas. Alec, meanwhile, swung wildly, relying on his superior speed to stun the Verdane soldiers. His blows were often not fatal, compared to his best friend Naoise's attacks. However, when combined with Naoise's methodical attacks, they were an incredible team.

Nessa was striking at Verdane soldiers with her iron lance as well, not one to be left in the dust behind her two childhood friends. Quan was also proving the 'weapon triangle theory' that prevailed throughout the continent of Jugdral meant nothing to him. Finn and Ethlyn were providing support to the prince of Leonster.

Soon, the Grannvale-Leonster force broke through the line of Verdane's army of axe fighters. Sigurd quickly decapitated an archer and turned his attention to Gerrard, who was glaring hatefully at him. A few remaining archers trained their bows on Sigurd. "Oifey, get back." Sigurd ordered. "Go to your brother."

"Y-yes sir."

Sigurd rode rapidly towards Gerrard as a line of archers fired on Sigurd. Sigurd's horse weaved its way around most of the arrows with Sigurd's silver sword slicing right through the ones it could not avoid on its own. Gerrard's eyes widened when he saw Sigurd's blade shine in the sunlight.

No way, a silver sword? Gerrard was now very worried about this guy. The only time he had ever seen a silver-class weapon was in the hands of Prince Cimbaeth and General Khan. Both were men who surpassed him by a longshot.

Gerrard could only watch in horror as Sigurd leapt from his horse towards the archers and cut them all down rapidly with one swing each. The blows of the attacks sent each archer flying, showing the weight and might of a silver weapon. Yeah, there's no doubt about it. Gerrard gulped. He looked at the silver sword enviously and then at his steel axe and hand axe. Seeing that Grannvale dog...it's like watching Prince Cimbaeth swing his silver axe!

Damn it! It wasn't supposed to go like this! Prince Munnir said the Grannvalians would be weak from the war with Isaach! That Sandima guy said so, right? This was supposed to be an easy conquest!

Sigurd impaled the last of the archers and tossed the body over his shoulder. He turned his attention back to Gerrard. Gerrard saw the look in Sigurd's eyes and snarled, regaining his resolve to fight to the bitter end. "Grannvale dogs," Gerrard snarled, "damn you!"

Sigurd charged towards Gerrard and steel met silver. "I'm only going to say this once, where is Edain?" Sigurd demanded.

"How about you make demands after you win, ya dastard!" Gerrard responded. His biceps bulged as he barely managed to push Sigurd off balance.

Gerrard then went on the offensive. He tossed his hand axe at Sigurd, who ducked underneath the flying weapon. Gerrard smirked as the hand axe turned back towards him, with Sigurd dead in its path. "But I'll smash you to pieces before that happens!" He vowed, raising his steel axe above his head.

Sigurd quickly held his silver sword above him in defense as Gerrard brought the axe down. Sigurd heard the ground crack beneath his feet from the impact between the two weapons. He's certainly more imposing than that Verdane officer from Castle Yngvi. Sigurd acknowledged. He might've actually used one of the Combat Arts.

Combat Arts are special techniques taught throughout Jugdral that were often a good way to gauge a warrior's skill level with their weapons. Honestly, Sigurd had never expected that someone from Verdane could be capable of using a Combat Art in battle.

"Lord Sigurd!" Sigurd was snapped out of his amazement at a Verdane savage wielding a Combat Art (and quite well for that matter) by the sound of Oifey's voice. It was frantic, as though it were trying to warn him.

Sigurd quickly created some distance between himself and Gerrard and ducked instinctively. He gasped when he saw the hand axe thrown earlier streaking past him. It could have taken his head off had he not been careful. Gerrard growled in frustration as he caught the hand axe by the hilt. "Damn kid ruined everything." He muttered.

"You know," Sigurd frowned at Gerrard, "if you are skilled enough with a weapon to use a Combat Art, then you don't need to resort to such trickery. You're strong, for a Verdanite. Let me guess, is that the most basic of the Axe Arts?"

"It's called Smash." Gerrard replied.

"That talent and skill is wasted on a ruthless savage like you." Sigurd glared at Gerrard. "And all things considered, if the most basic of Arts is all you can manage, then your talent in general is wasted."

"Who do you think you are?" Gerrard demanded.

"I am a knight defending his lands, that's who." Sigurd replied. "A knight who won't lose to such basic techniques, even if they are wielded by someone with potential."

"Besides, if you can use the most basic techniques, it stands to reason that I can as well, right? Allow me to show you." Sigurd then charged right towards Gerrard. The Chalphy heir was upon him before his mind even registered.

Sigurd then pivoted on his right foot and turned nearly 360 degrees, increasing the force of his silver sword and striking Gerrard right across the chest. The force of the impact sent the Verdane officer flying with a scream of pain.

Wrath Strike, Sigurd revealed inwardly, one of the two most basic of sword arts, focused on increasing the might of a single strike through an increase in momentum.

Sigurd gazed at the destroyed chest piece that had once been Gerrard's armor. Such shoddy workmanship was always going to fail before the might of a silver sword.

Gerrard then rose to his feet, bleeding profusely. "Dastard...Grannvale dastard...always looking down on us...your time is over damn it...he said so...they said so…"

Sigurd scowled at Gerrard's words. Another foe I underestimated, he lamented, it's just like the instructors at Belhalla said, in the most basic sense, the only way to win is to strike a foe until they can no longer fight back, no matter what.

And as a knight, that rings especially true when the foe threatens the people of your land. Sigurd added inwardly, fuming at what these savages have done to Grannvale and to him personally by kidnapping a dear friend of his.

Then, before Sigurd could finish Gerrard himself, an arrow came streaking past him with incredible accuracy. "What?" Gerrard managed before being struck in his armorless chest.

Oifey gasped in amazement from the sidelines. He watched as the owner of that shot rode past Sigurd. Such accuracy. Even from here I could tell that shot was straight through the heart! He must've used one of the bow arts. A basic one at that!

Sigurd gasped when he saw that Midir had intervened. A part of him could feel a slight sting to his pride as a knight. However, he knew that this was probably more personal for Midir than even him. Midir leapt from his horse and trained a single arrow on Gerrard with a look of pure hate in his eyes. Sigurd quickly joined Midir. This one was definitely neutralized now, so he needed to make sure Gerrard could give him answers on Edain's whereabouts.

Gerrard looked at Midir in disbelief. "W-wait, you were using arrows?" He muttered weakly before spitting blood at Midir's feet. "You coward!"

Midir just glared at Gerrard for that. "Shut up!" He exclaimed. "Where's Lady Edain?! Bring her back, now!"

Gerrard was taken aback by Midir's words for a brief moment. Sigurd frowned, wondering if Gerrard was going to give them anything. Both Grannvalians were then shocked when Gerrard started wheezing and laughing, visibly in pain from the mere act of it.

"Too bad for you," Gerrard said weakly, grinning defiantly at Midir, "that dame of yours ain't here."

Sigurd and Midir's eyes widened at what came out of Gerrard's mouth next. "Prince Munnir's got her."

Midir's shock was quickly replaced with fury at the thought of Edain being in Munnir's clutches. Even if he knew that was already the case, hearing it again left him seeing red. He let his single arrow fly right into Gerrard's skull, killing him instantly.

Midir then started taking several deep breaths as the memories of his deceased comrades flashed through his mind, along with the smile of the Lady Edain. Sigurd looked at Midir sympathetically and walked up to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?" He asked.

"I'll be alright when Lady Edain is safe, Sir." Midir replied.

"I feel the same way, Midir, I really do." Sigurd promised. His four Chalphy knights ran up to him. He turned his attention to them. "Secure Castle Evans, if there are any stragglers that surrender, take them alive."

"Yes, Lord Sigurd." Naoise spoke on behalf of the quartet. They quickly went inside of Castle Evans.

Quan and Ethlyn ran up to Sigurd. "What now, Brother?" Ethlyn asked.

"Edain isn't here," Sigurd replied, "the Verdane officer said that Munnir has her."

"By the crusaders," Ethlyn muttered in horror, "no matter how far we go, Edain seems to get further and further away."

"Then I suppose this campaign isn't over yet." Quan realized.

Ethlyn gasped at the determined expressions on both Sigurd and Quan's faces. "Brother, Quan, before you two go charging off against the entire Verdane army, keep in mind we're in enemy territory now. What we faced off against was likely their advance force."

"She's right, Sig," Aengus interjected, Oifey next to him, "If that dastard, Munnir left with Edain, that means we only drove back the advance force. If what we went up against was the entirety of Verdane's army, she'd be in this castle, considering it's the border castle."

"I don't think I need to tell you this, but we can't take on an entire army with just a few soldiers like this." Aengus grimaced. "We don't have Arvis to bail us out this time."

"You can't expect me to just sit here while Edain is in that monster's clutches, Aengus!" Sigurd exclaimed.

"I expect you to be smart, cousin, getting yourself killed does Edain no favors." Aengus said sternly.

Oifey stepped in between his brother and cousin before an argument broke out. "Regardless, Lord Sigurd, we should really rest up in Castle Evans for the rest of the day. We just went through two big fights in a row and went from Grannvale to Verdane in only a few days. Everyone's tired. We should settle inside of Castle Evans, set up any defenses just in case the Verdane army decides to lay siege on us, and discuss our next move."

Sigurd clenched his fist at that. "Oifey's right, Brother." Ethlyn spoke up, appealing to her brother's sensibilities. "This is soil we're unfamiliar with. We should take the time to assess the situation. If we die, no one is going to save Edain."

Sigurd heaved a sigh, knowing that Ethlyn and Oifey were both right. "Okay," he relented, "I don't like it, but you're right. We'll secure Castle Evans and have a war council to close out the day."

Meanwhile, Marah was taking some time to speak with Azelle, who was standing next to Lex. "You've improved since the last time I saw you wield your magic, Lord Azelle." Marah praised. "You've been working hard."

"I'm still not nearly as skilled as you, Marah." Azelle said shyly. "And I'm certainly still no match for my brother."

"That is certainly true," Marah acknowledged, remembering how Azelle had briefly faltered before that volley of arrows before she managed to snap him out of it, "to be frank, Lord Azelle, there's only one thing you lack. And that's confidence."

Lex lightly patted Azelle on the back with an encouraging smile. "What have I been saying to you, buddy?" He reminded him. "You're way strong. Back at Belhalla your magic ability was among the best in our class."

Marah nodded. "While I am part of this army, under Lord Arvis' orders, I will do all I can to watch over you, seeing as you are his brother." She promised Azelle. Her expression then turned serious. "That said, if you want to prove to your brother that you can survive on your own and that leaving Velthomer without his approval was the right decision, you must find the confidence to stand on your own two feet."

"I know," Azelle nodded, lowering his head, "it's just...it's hard."

Marah sighed. "I suppose it is...for some people. Forgive me, Lord Azelle, this was not something I myself have struggled with, so I cannot truly relate to you."

"All I can tell you is that you are strong, so you have no reason to not believe in your ability. You may lack major Fjalar blood, but you still are a member of House Velthomer."

"...I understand, thank you, Marah." Azelle relented.

Marah then turned and made her way to Castle Evans, heaving a light sigh. It seems that besides working alongside Lord Sigurd, my role will also be to play nursemaid to Lord Azelle. At least, for the time being.

I can tell he's getting stronger though, so it hopefully won't be for too long…

One by one, the combined Chalphy-Leonster alliance entered Castle Evans. Unbeknownst to them all, a lone wyvern rested atop the mountains of Verdane and the neighboring Agustria. Atop this wyvern was a young woman with crimson red hair and piercing green eyes. She wore the armor of a Thracian Wyvern Knight. The armor was colored silver and grey.

"They actually made it all the way to Verdane." She sounded surprised. "Well, I guess I'd expect nothing less from a ragtag bunch of soldiers led by Sigurd of Chalphy and Quan of Leonster."

She grimaced, remembering the orders given to her by her king, the ruthless but popular king of Thracia, Travant. "You are Seres, correct? Granddaughter of the retired General Krono, yes?"

"Yes, Your Majesty, that is me."

"You've made quite a name for yourself as a trainee, Seres. Consider me impressed. So impressed, I'm giving you an assignment."

"An assignment, Your Majesty?"

"Rumors are abounding that Verdane is about to make a move on Grannvale." Travant had said to her. "If that does happen, Quan, the champion of Leonster, will likely come to the aid of Grannvale."

"Why? If I may, Your Majesty, that does not sound strategically sound in the slightest."

"Quan is a dear friend of one of the duchy heirs." Travant had explained to her. "If Verdane attacks, and when he does ride out to aid Grannvale, I want you to take flight and tail them in secret. Take note of their actions."

"Alone, Your Majesty? How will I report back?"

"The Thracian Wyvern Knights are all over Jugdral, as we are mercenaries who serve as attack dogs for anyone who pays well. If you happen to come across a squad of them, report on Quan's actions. Of course, this will only happen if the campaign becomes a long one. If Verdane turns out to be a worthless foe, fly back to Thracia before he rides back to Leonster."

"Your Majesty, what will you do with this knowledge?"

"Quan is the greatest obstacle between my goal of uniting the Thracian Peninsula. I must keep tabs on him. Depending on his actions from here on out, I may be able to either conquer Leonster, or find a weakness of his that I may exploit later."

"...I see."

"You still sound uncertain, my dear."

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I will of course follow your orders."

"Good girl, the truth is, the name you've made for yourself is not a good one." Seres remembered the color draining from her face at the sight of Travant's mocking smile. "It's hard to believe a screw-up like you is General Krono's granddaughter. Perhaps you've got too much of your dead father in you."

"But if you manage to deliver in this mission, Seres, I assure you that you will be rewarded for your efforts. You will be honored as a proper Thracian knight. I know how important that is to you, considering you're the granddaughter of a celebrated hero."

"...Yes, Your Majesty, I won't disappoint you."

Seres sighed. "Stuck with spy duties because I'm such a failure. King Travant wants me out of the way so that I don't screw up his plans to unite the peninsula" She lamented. "Oh grandfather...I'm so sorry it's up to me of all people to carry on your legacy."

The wyvern seemed to purr slowly at Seres' lamentations. It was as though it was sympathizing with her and trying to say something to cheer her up. This was not lost on Seres, who gently and affectionately stroked her wyvern's neck. "I know, Bellerophon," she said to her beloved mount, "at least we're together. It won't be all bad."

"And besides, if I can keep track of Quan and his friends, I can show the king that I'm capable of something. If I can do this at least, he'll recognize me as a true knight of Thracia and not just some washout trainee."

Seres then leapt off her mount, holding onto her iron lance. "I suppose I can at least get some training done while I'm on spy duty." She decided. "If this is how it's going to be, I'll make sure I return to Thracia a different woman!"

Meanwhile, across Verdane, other players began to make their move. A field of Verdanite corpses lined the area around Castle Genoa. The perpetrator of this act had trained the blade that caused so much carnage on a rugged looking Verdanite, who in turn, kept his silver axe trained on a young boy with shoulder length dark hair. He looked utterly terrified.

"Aunt Ayra!" The boy exclaimed. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

'Aunt Ayra' was a beautiful, dark haired woman with a chestplate and an outfit commonly seen among Isaach women, a purple dress with long white leggings. She looked a mixture between terrified for her nephew and furious at the man who had taken him captive.

"It's alright, Shannan," she assured the scared little boy, "I'll save you, I promise!"

The captor laughed. His remaining troops laughed behind him. Though his troops were a bit more nervous, having seen what she had done to some of their comrades. "This is quite the woman we have here, eh boys? Beautiful and deadly." The captor noted.

"You've got a damn good eye, Prince Cimbaeth!" One of the soldiers exclaimed.

"Indeed I do, and it is precisely that good eye that keeps me from wanting to take this lass as mine." Cimbaeth admitted. Though looking at Ayra once more, he was sorely tempted to try. She was stunning.

"Let Shannan go, you pig." Ayra growled.

"No, I don't think I will." Cimbaeth responded. "I saw what you did to my men, after all. I've never seen a swordsman of your caliber. You've received the best training possible, haven't you? So, mind telling me who you are, Lass?"

Ayra glared at Cimbaeth in response. Cimbaeth chuckled. "No need to answer, I think I know exactly who you are, Isaachian." Cimbaeth reached into his pocket and pulled out something that made Ayra pale.

It was a seal, a royal seal. The Isaachian Royal Family's seal, which had the image of the holy sword, Balmung on it. "I took this off the kid after we ambushed him at your little campsite. You should be glad he had this on him. It was the only thing that kept me from killing him."

Damn it all! I take my eyes off Shannan for a few minutes to go hunting and this happens! And we were doing so well after fleeing Isaach! Ayra lamented inwardly.

"I don't know why a member of Isaach's royal family is out here, and frankly, I don't care." Cimbaeth admitted. "But now that we're in this situation, Lass, you and I are going to make a deal."

Cimbaeth handed off Shannan to one of his soldiers. "Lock him up in the dungeon. If she tries anything, kill him." He ordered.

"Aunt Ayra! Aunt Ayra!" Shannan could only scream as he was dragged away from his aunt towards Castle Genoa.

"Shannan!" Ayra called out to her nephew in horror. She was tempted to run after him then and there. She had confidence in her speed after all.

"Oi, listen up, Lass, because the offer I'm about to give you is going to keep your precious Shannan alive." Cimbaeth told her. "You're going to offer that sword to me. All your skills are mine to use as I see fit."

"You do that, you cooperate, and the brat lives. It's that simple."

Ayra snarled. Working for scum like this would destroy her pride as an Isaachian warrior and princess. However, she promised her brother she would protect Shannan. His safety took priority over everything, even her own pride.

Lowering her head in shame, she lowered her sword. "Very well, Cimbaeth, we have an accord. However, I will only offer my sword to you, are we clear?"

"Crystal clear, Lass," Cimbaeth promised, "I'm not so desperate that I'd bed a woman who'd probably kill me in the process."

"I like 'em submissive." That last comment made Cimbaeth's troops laugh cruelly.

Ayra grimaced at this. This man certainly was a pig. However, this pig also held Shannan's life in his hands. She had to follow his orders, for now. Father, Mariccle, please forgive me. I've shamed you both.

Meanwhile, at Castle Verdane, a handsome man wearing a bandana over his dark brown hair was pleading his case to an elderly man on a throne who was flanked by a man in dark green robes that covered what the man could only assume to be a disheveled face of pure evil and another man with greying hair, decked out in in armor with a silver bow and quiver strapped to his back.

"Father, I must insist that Verdane end these hostilities towards Grannvale!" Pleaded Jamke, 3rd Prince of Verdane. "Our nation has had friendly relations with them for years ever since you took power! How could you throw it all away like this?"

King Batu, the formerly pacifistic king of Verdane, sighed. "I have made this clear to you on multiple occasions, Jamke." Batu gestured to the man in green. "Sandima warned us that Grannvale intends to expand, with or without our consent. I cannot allow the people of Verdane to fall under Grannvale control. They will subjugate us, just like they intend to do with Isaach. Just as Isaach is nothing but a nation of barbarians to them, we are viewed as the same."

"Father, it is only because of Verdane's past! You've done so much to destroy that image with your policies!" Jamke reminded him. "Don't you see? You've brought back the image of the Verdane barbarian with your actions! You, Munnir, and Cimbaeth will be the death of this kingdom if this keeps up!"

Jamke took a moment to glare at Sandima. Ever since that cretin showed up here, things had gone to hell for his family. He could remember Sandima conversing with his brothers, filling their heads with glory and pleasures if they would just take Grannvale for themselves.

Munnir and Cimbaeth were never the most gentle of men, but they only got worse when Sandima came here. Jamke could certainly believe that Sandima could get to them. But to his father?

Jamke looked pleadingly at the grey haired archer. He would listen to reason of course. "Khan, please, you must surely agree!" He pleaded with his mentor, the beloved general of Verdane. "Releasing that monster, Gandolf, from prison, unprovoked attacks, this is not our way!"

Khan gazed at his former student with a twinge of sympathy before sighing. "Whether it's our 'way' or not, the king has made his orders clear, Prince Jamke." He said firmly. "And his order supersedes even you, my prince."

"Khan!" Jamke exclaimed, visibly betrayed. He could see Sandima's expression turn smug out of the corner of his eye.

"This is a fight for Verdane's survival, no matter what. We have no choice but to proceed." Khan sighed.

"A fight we started!" Jamke exclaimed.

"Enough, Prince Jamke!" Khan yelled. "Your father has made his decision. Do not force him to punish his son!"

Jamke gasped, realizing that Khan was still looking out for his former student in his own way. He sighed and bowed, speaking through gritted teeth. "I understand, forgive my rudeness, Father. I will take my leave."

Batu simply nodded as his youngest son left the throne room. Khan turned to Batu. "Your Majesty, while I will gladly follow any order you give me, I must ask, are you absolutely sure this is the path you wish to take?"

"You doubt me, Khan?" Batu seemed hurt.

"I have never doubted you before," Khan assured him, "I lent my bow to you because I wanted to see a peaceful Verdane. And I've lent my bow to you now because I want to believe that Grannvale's destruction is the only way to continue that. But I must know if there's absolutely no way we can ensure the continuation of a peaceful Verdane through diplomacy."

Batu gestured to Sandima. "Sandima…"

"I know what Sandima has said, Your Majesty!" Khan interrupted. "I want to hear it from you! Is there truly no way to end this diplomatically?"

Batu seemed to hesitate for a moment. He then responded. "The dye has been cast already, Khan." He said sadly. "Grannvale already made its plans to subjugate us, and Munnir attacked in response to those concerns. Neither side can back down now."

Khan sighed and bowed. "That is all I need to hear. When the time comes, I will lend my bow as your general. I will take my leave as well, my king."

As Khan dismissed himself, Jamke was already storming outside of the castle. He had one single destination in mind. Castle Marpha. If appealing to his father was not going to work, he would have to try his foolish brothers instead. If the 'grunts' did not fight, the king would have no choice but to stand down.

Considering he would be going through the Spirit Forest, it would likely be a few days' journey. That mystic place was always difficult to navigate. But Jamke would not falter. He could not falter.

And so, a few days passed. Sigurd's forces spent the time resting and fortifying Castle Evans. During that time, Princess Ayra of Isaach would integrate herself with Cimbaeth's troops. She had no choice. Prince Jamke of Verdane, meanwhile, would soon reach Castle Marpha to appeal to his brother Munnir to end these hostilities.

But now, back with Sigurd, the knight and heir to House Chalphy was preparing for another war council with his comrades to discuss their next move in rescuing Edain and stopping the Verdane menace that would only continue to plague their lands.

However, before Sigurd could reach the war council, he was suddenly stopped by Oifey. "What is it?" He asked his cousin.

"Lord Sigurd, there's something urgent we must discuss." Oifey said.

"How urgent is it? We are supposed to have a war council today, Oifey." Sigurd reminded his cousin.

"Sir, no one else is in attendance right now. It seems you're the only one who hasn't heard the news." Oifey noted.

I suppose that's no surprise, Lord Sigurd's been running himself ragged in trying to prepare to continue this campaign of his. Oifey added inwardly, remembering how Sigurd got involved in fortifying the castle and even conducting scouting missions on his own.

Sigurd raised a questioning eyebrow at Oifey's words. "Very well," he relented, "what news do you have for me, Oifey?"

Oifey nodded. "It's an envoy from His Majesty, Sir. They are seeking an audience with you."

Sigurd's eyes widened. "They are waiting in the main hall, Sir." That was all Sigurd needed to hear. He quickly made his way to the main hall of Castle Evans, with Oifey close behind. When he reached the main hall he saw that all of his comrades were already there, gazing upon the envoy, an older man who was flanked by four knights who carried the colors of Belhalla.

Sigurd recognized this old, balding man who had nothing more than sideburns and a mustache now. He was Filat, King Azmur's longtime servant and envoy. "Sir Filat, it is a pleasure to see you." Sigurd, thankfully, did not forget to be formal in this situation.

"And I you, Lord Sigurd." Filat bowed respectfully. "I do wish it were under better circumstances. A pity that Verdane returned to its savage roots."

"I agree, Sir, but don't worry, we'll win."

"That I am sure, Lord Sigurd. I am here to deliver you a message from His Majesty." Filat told him. "Your performance in this battle was outstanding. His Majesty is highly pleased."

Filat then removed his silver sword from its sheath. "And for your victory and patriotism, he has thus proclaimed your ordination as a holy knight of the realm. I am here to conduct the ceremony, as His Majesty is occupied with the war in Isaach."

Sigurd's eyes widened in shock. There was a collective gasp amongst his comrades. The rank of holy knight was more of a title than an actual military rank. However, that title was the highest honor any knight could receive. "I hardly deserve such an honor, Sir!" Sigurd exclaimed.

"That is for His Majesty to decide, Lord Sigurd, and he has decided you are quite worthy." Filat assured him.

"Take a knee, Sigurd, this is not the time to forget formalities and traditions." Quan encouraged him with a smile.

"There's hardly anyone more deserving than you, Lord Sigurd!" Naoise declared.

"Hail Lord Sigurd, Holy Knight of our glorious fatherland!" Nessa added.

"Here, here!" Lex yelled in agreement

Sigurd admittedly wanted to weep at the words of encouragement from his comrades. He found himself falling to one knee and lowering his head to Filat. "Lord Sigurd, Son of Byron and Heir to House Chalphy, do you swear to defend king and country? To uphold the ideals and values of our great fatherland?"

"I swear it, all of it." Sigurd vowed. "I pledge my undying fealty to His Majesty, and to my fatherland."

Filat then placed his silver sword on Sigurd's shoulder. "Then by the power vested in me by His Majesty, King Azmur, and in the name of our great heroes of old, the 12 Crusaders, I hereby ordain you a holy knight of the glorious kingdom of Grannvale."

Filat then sheathed his sword. "Arise, Lord Sigurd, Holy Knight of Chalphy."

There was a round of applause from Sigurd's friends. "You honor me with these actions, Sir Filat." Sigurd said softly as he rose to his feet.

"The honor is all mine, I assure you." Filat said. "Now, before I go, let us talk about business. You have orders, straight from Prince Kurth himself."

"I would hear them."

"From here, it is imperative that you hold Evans." Filat explained. "We can ill afford to lose such a valuable defensive point to the enemy. You and your men shall be handsomely paid for your service. Provided, of course, that our territory survives unscathed."

"I have confidence in my comrades, Sir Filat, we will not fail you." Sigurd assured the old man.

"If you intend to continue pushing deeper into Verdane territory though," Filat continued, "Prince Kurth suggests you wait a few days and prepare."

"With all due respect, Sir Filat, Lady Edain of Yngvi is being held captive by Prince Munnir of Verdane. I cannot wait forever."

"You will not, Lord Sigurd, I assure you." Filat promised. "If you truly intend to take on all of Verdane, you will need more than a handful of troops. Thankfully, your father and Duke Ring have both sought to correct this situation."

"My father and Lord Ring?"

"Indeed, your father has sent five hundred Chalphy knights to aid you. And Duke Ring has sent three hundred knights of his own as support. Both apologize for the fact that neither can send members of the elite Gruenen Ritter and Beige Ritter."

"The knights of Chalphy and Yngvi." Azelle gasped. Midir looked down, unsure how he could face his comrades with the sad fact he failed to protect their liege lady.

"I can't accept such reinforcements." Sigurd shook his head. "Any soldier would be better served in the Isaach campaign."

Filat laughed. "It seems you haven't heard the news. Victory is already in sight for us in Isaach. The eastern barbarians fell to our might quite easily. It would appear that their army was in a state of confusion."

"Confusion? I find that very hard to believe." Sigurd admitted. "Isaachians are a proud warrior people."

"It doesn't matter now. Prince Marricle, the acting leader of Isaach's forces, is dead, just like his father. He was slain by Prince Kurth himself in battle. All that's left is to clean up what's left of their army and we can begin the Grannvale occupation. Perhaps we can civilize those barbarians."

Sigurd was beginning to grow uncomfortable with Filat's words. Even if they were uncivilized, like the people of Verdane, they were still people. They deserved to be treated as such.

"I must get going, I cannot be away from His Majesty any longer." Filat admitted. "Best of luck, Lord Sigurd. Grannvale expects every man to do his duty."

With that, Filat and his entourage exited Castle Evans. Oifey spoke up when the envoy was gone. "Well, Milord?"

"Prepare the war council regardless, Oifey." Sigurd said. "It seems our strategy must now account for the reinforcements we are about to receive from Father and Lord Ring."

"Soon, everyone," Sigurd addressed his comrades, "soon we will begin our campaign and move deep into Verdane territory."

"And we will win. We will save Edain, no matter what."

Little did Sigurd know, this first battle was the first of many. Little did Sigurd know, this was the beginning of time of great upheaval in the continent of Jugdral. The wars that would shape the holy continent, just as the great Holy War from hundreds of years ago did, would soon begin..

A.N: Best girl Ayra is here! Huzzah! And no, it's not because she's hot. I mean, she is, but anyone who's played Genealogy knows exactly why she's best girl. We've also introduced another new OC, the failed Wyvern Knight Seres, who is now spying on Sigurd and Quan on King Travant's behalf. I'm sure everything will turn out fine.

And now, here we are at Nicholas' Unit Review once again! We'll close out the Chalphy soldiers with the walking internet meme himself. He's strong, he's tough, he's a good boy. It's Arden

Strengths: Well, he's great in Heroes. But, this is Genealogy. And unfortunately, Arden doesn't have a lot of strengths. Genealogy is known as Horse Emblem because of its massive maps, and Arden is a slow armored knight lumbering around maps while your speedy horseback units are cleaning things up. That said, he's still an armored knight. So you can still rely on him to tank physical hits. And thankfully, unlike the case with most armored knights, plenty of enemies can't double because they need the Pursuit skill to do it. He also comes with Vantage, which allows units with health below 50% to attack first. This might actually be where using Naoise and Alec to chip might come in handy depending on how you strategize. Set up the kill for Arden, and he can kill with vantage if they come after him. Also, there's an event that gives him the Pursuit Skill. Problem is, he's slow as hell, so the chances of him proccing it are...well, low. Unless you're dealing with a lance or an axe, which are very heavy weapons compared to swords.

Weaknesses: As much as I love Arden as a character, and I'm not just saying that. I LOVE Arden as a character. His design is great and he seems like such a gentle, sweet guy with a heart as big as his armor, if Heroes is any indication. He's also arguably one of the weakest units in the game. Honestly, if Sigurd wasn't such a great unit at the start and you didn't get other good units early on as the prologue went along, Genealogy would be brutal at the start. Again, Arden's an armored unit so he's rarely going to be in on the action. Horse Emblem, remember? It's sad, too cuz he'd be a great unit in most other FE games. But he's stuck in Genealogy. You basically have to commit to use him and cheese your way through boss fights since they heal inside the castles they command if you want him to be usable, and even then, his primary role will be defending the castle. And his damage output is abysmal compared to other units. He's lucky he's an armored knight, otherwise he'd die quickly. Much like Naoise and Alec, the only way to use him effectively is commitment and a little bit of tinkering.

Overall: Again, love him as a character, but sadly, great characters do not always translate to great units. Arden is a good example of this. Honestly, I never leave him to defend the castle, I take him with me. Enemies rarely reach your home castle, barring shenanigans. Then again, maybe I should try to make the enemy come to him in my next run. Another situational unit, like his fellow Chalphy knights, but never an MVP.

I hope everyone enjoyed 4-part prologue. I released this as a way to gauge people's interest in the full story, so let me know what you think in the reviews. Thanks for reading.