Birth and Re-Death
Chapter 24: The One-Two Punch
"Good people! Warriors of Plegia! Welcome! Welcome, one and all! Your anticipation electrifies the air!"
"Blah blah blah, keep talking you stupid cripe," I mutter, still looking forward to the day I can get ahold of him and ram my staff where even a sun this obnoxiously bright doesn't shine.
"Flavia!" Robin calls for the eighth time, and then we're back at it. Again.
Fortunately, the early fight has pretty much become old hat for us by this point in terms of what the enemy will do, so we don't have much trouble directing the team right out the gate. Unlike with the last run, we're doing our best to power through the fatigue and keep the fight under our control.
Across all the runs we've done so far, one thing that helps us has become increasingly clear. Though the Plegian forces have a ton of soldiers to command, they aren't in very good communication with the leadership, so as a result they don't change up their tactics much in response to our own strategies. In other words, no matter what we do, we can count on the Plegians doing more or less the same thing every time. Even if, say, we do something truly unorthodox.
Something like having Donnel and Ricken ride atop dragon-Nowi's back and take to the skies to face the enemy in the air as a chaotic death whirlwind of magic and pointy things.
One hour-ish earlier...
"Randall and Robin, are you sure this is going to work?" Ricken asks nervously, glancing at Nowi next to him and Donnel on the other side of her.
"What, are you saying you don't trust Nowi?" I ask, gesturing to the little manakete.
Nowi gasps. "Hey, yeah! Don'tcha trust me, Ricken?" she demands, leaning in toward him with mock-aggression.
He raises his hands to defend himself. "I didn't say that! I just, it's just that I've never flown anything before. I don't know how to do it, is all."
Nowi scowls. "I can fly myself, you know. You don't have to fly me."
"Oh, uh, right." Ricken looks away sheepishly. "But I don't get why I couldn't just go up with Cordelia or Sumia. Don't they already have experience flying their pegasi?"
"For a pegasus to stay airborne, they can only handle so much weight. They can go fairly short distances with a second rider, but they definitely can't do it for a full capital raid, and we need those pegasi in good condition when we send them to rescue Emmeryn. Nowi's a dragon, so we're figuring that she can handle a little bit more," I say.
"Yeah, I totally can! I'm super strong when I'm in my dragon form!" Nowi says.
Donnel chimes in, "So I get why Ricken's gotta go up, what with the wind magic and all. But why am I the other one goin' up to protect him?"
"Because you're one of the lighter Shepherds, and we don't want Nowi to get too tired carrying two people around in flight. Gaius is probably around the same weight, but his sword and daggers don't really do much in the air compared to the lance. So you're our best option," Robin explains.
Donnel nods in understanding. "Alrighty then. I guess I'll grab up some reins from the supply caravan."
"Whoa, you guys are gonna use reins? Like I'm a horse?" Nowi asks.
"Well, we gotta be able to hang on somehow, right?" Donnel replies a little defensively.
"That's so fun! It'll be like playing a game, and I'm playing the noble steed!" Nowi says, giggling.
"Uh, yep, kinda. I'll go get them, then," Donnel says, taking his leave of us. "Should probably grab a saddle too," he mumbles as he leaves.
"You know it's not a game, though, right Nowi?" Ricken asks concernedly.
Still smiling, Nowi says, "I know. But it's a little easier if I pretend like it is sometimes."
When does it stop being a game to you, Randy?
I think my headache just came back. I decide not to comment, even when no one else says anything for a moment.
"Alright," Robin says, breaking what was getting dangerously close to the 'uncomfortable silence' threshold, "are we all clear on the plan, then?"
"Yup!" Nowi says cheerfully.
"Y-yeah," Ricken says, considerably less cheerfully.
As they leave, Robin turns to me. Wordlessly, we exchange a sleepy nod. The sorts of things a sleep-deprivation-addled pair of brains can come up with, ladies and gentlemen.
Despite Ricken's worries, it turns out Nowi isn't half bad as an airborne mount. Donnel is keeping a hand on the reins to stabilize them, while Ricken usually keeps a hand on Donnel unless he's casting. It's a little unwieldy at first ("WAAAaaaaaah!" Ricken's shout fades into the distance as they shoot skyward), but once they find their rhythm they really can't be stopped. Together, they become an unholy wave of devastation that mows down their wyvern presence in the air by allowing Ricken to fling Elwind after Elwind at the enemy from the safety of Nowi's protection and doubly guarded by Donnel's lance. The enemy doesn't really have a response, not even from their mages on the ground that used to give Nowi such trouble.
And why is that? Because without the wyverns up above to worry about, we can afford to take on a much more aggressive strategy from the ground, so our guys are punching through the ground troops with formidable efficiency. Led by Chrom, Frederick, and Lon'qu, different divisions of Shepherds are focusing on foot soldiers, cavalry, and mages respectively, and each group is doing its job well and keeping pace. This strategy keeps a lot of pressure off our tanks, which is great since they can focus on protecting our ranged units. For Robin's and my part, we're following Lon'qu for now so we can meet Tharja quickly before the mage-killers get ahold of her.
I think the novelty of Robin meeting someone from her past wore off somewhere between the third and fourth runs, so when she spots Tharja this time, she waves her over immediately and holds up a hand to prevent her from speaking the moment Tharja opens her mouth.
"Tharja, it's good to see you. We have a great deal of catching up to do, I'm sure, but right now I need to know you're with me. Are you?" Robin asks, striking a balance between sounding properly forceful and so tired I'm afraid she'll collapse before she finishes her thought.
Tharja, fortunately at least kind of understanding, says, "Of course. I'm always with you." She smiles evilly (I'm pretty sure that's the only way she knows how to smile, actually). "Always."
Robin blinks. "Right. Anyway, let's get moving."
Once Tharja is safely in our ranks, we switch over to Chrom's group to make sure Libra gets picked up as well. Luckily, it doesn't take too long before we run across him, and as a bonus, he doesn't have to save our asses this time around. Without the added benefit of air support, the Plegian regular military is really nothing special, it turns out.
As Libra draws close to our group, I decide to preempt the conversation a little bit to save some time and confusion. "Brother healer! Are you alright?" I ask.
Libra looks a little surprised that I immediately knew he was a man, but recovers quickly. "I am, thank you. My name is Libra. I'm relieved to see that the Exalted family has been kept safe thus far. When my colleagues and I learned that Exalt Emmeryn had been kidnapped, we set out at once to attempt to liberate her. However, only I survived the journey across these war-torn lands. Still, I wish to honor my brothers' sacrifices by joining you in rescuing the Exalt. Will you have my axe?"
Chrom steps forward. "Of course, we need all the help we can get. And a formidable wo– er, man of the cloth such as yourself will no doubt be a fine addition to the team. Welcome to the Shepherds, Libra."
Libra takes a knee on being spoken to by Chrom. "I live to serve the gods, and the family they have chosen to exalt and lead us, my lord."
"Uh, right. We should keep moving," Chrom says, looking something between embarrassed and flattered at being addressed in this way.
Alright, seems like it's been going well so far. The trio in the sky have been a huge help keeping the wyverns off our backs, and–
Oh hey, speak of the devil. They're touching down in front of us. Ricken and Donnel are quick to hop off Nowi, who doesn't waste a second transforming back into her human form and collapsing under the weight of the saddle on her. She flops facedown on the sand.
"Is she okay?" I ask Donnel and Ricken.
Donnel replies, "I think she's okay, just tuckered out like nothing else. I don't think she's used to flyin' for a real long time."
I notice Ricken's shaking a little bit. "W-well, I'm not used to it either! And I don't think I ever want to do that again."
I clap a hand on his shoulder to steady him (and myself; I'm really tired). "You guys did great up there. We can do this without sending you back up. Just keep an eye on the sky, Ricken. I don't think we've seen the last of the wyverns. As for you, Donny, I want you keeping an eye on Nowi until she's up and about again. Can you carry her?"
Donnel salutes dutifully. "Gotcha, Randall. No problem!" True to his word, he picks her up with no apparent difficulty and slings her over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes.
"Good. But stay out of combat if you can until she's alright. Maybe give her some vulnerary if you've got it," I add. He nods and runs off.
Okay, we haven't gotten this far in the battle too many times before, so we need to be careful. As I recall, those fortresses are gonna start dumping out reinforcements any minute now, so we can't be too hasty.
For the first time all day, though, this means we can set up a line ourselves. When they start sending forces to meet us, we'll already have our formation set and ready to repel the enemy. I'm relieved that we've kept our tanks out of the action as much as possible so far, because now we're definitely going to need them.
And right on cue, the fortresses open up and start spitting wyverns, soldiers, and mages out to meet us. Meanwhile, the wyvern rider reinforcements from the northwest finally arrive as well. While Virion and Ricken lead the ranged units in taking down the wyverns, Libra and I join the front lines to tank some magic hits before the two sides make melee contact.
It really hurts this time around. I think all this fatigue is making it harder to resist magical attacks, so even after just a few blasts from some comparatively weak wind and Flux spells, I'm really feeling the pain. Thankfully, with Libra on our side, he's quick to Ward me and heal up my wounds, making it a little easier on me.
We take our place behind the front line as the melee soldiers draw close, and I do the healing that I can when I'm in this state. With the headache and the fatigue, though, I'm not being the most helpful I've ever been. Libra's proving to be more and more of a blessing with every passing moment, it seems, since he's picking up my slack big time. He's also being a huge boon to the tanks by Warding them and keeping them in fighting shape. I'll have to have him show me that one sometime.
Soon, it's apparent that Plegia doesn't stand a chance of busting through our lines. The momentum is totally on our side now. We won't be tricked by crafty reinforcement placement, nor will we allow ourselves to be worn down, even as they thrown basically everything they have left at us. This is it. This is going to be our run.
"Everyone! Advance with caution!" Robin commands, signaling that the enemy has finally worn out its supply of bodies to cast in our path. All that remains now is General Campari and his elite guard, who frankly aren't looking so elite shaking up there like that.
To their credit, though, when Campari shouts, "Guards! Protect the courtyard at all costs!" and gestures forward, none of the eight of them hesitate to charge us. They have their bravery, for whatever that's worth.
Tactically speaking, though, it wasn't worth much; unoccupied now that the wyverns have been taken down, our mages can focus their fire on the uncovered, exposed soldiers bum-rushing us. Though a few show some talent with dodging, it doesn't stop three of them from being totally obliterated before they've even reached us.
As for those who do reach us, they don't fare a lot better. Frederick, Chrom, Lon'qu, Panne, and Gregor each take on one of the guards, and even if it had been one-on-one, things already wouldn't be looking good for these goons, not even accounting for all the support the Shepherds are providing in the form of healing and covering fire. It is, in a word, a slaughter.
Campari shouts at us as Chrom, Robin, Tharja, and I approach, "Even if it's down to the last man, I will fight to protect my capital and king. You'll never stop this execution, Ylissean scum!"
"All that loyalty toward a cause that doesn't deserve it. You serve a warmonger, General," Chrom says, pointing Falchion at him threateningly as Robin and Tharja both ready spells to sling at him.
"It is not for a knight to question his king's orders. It is for him to serve, and serve unflaggingly! You Ylisseans will know the pain your country has caused!" Campari retorts, readying his lance.
As Chrom charges at the general, Robin and Tharja loose their spells at him simultaneously. It would make for a more dramatic story to suggest that he stood half a chance, but really, his thick armor doesn't allow him to even try to dodge, so he has to take both hits, already injuring him seriously before Chrom even gets to him. Honestly, Chrom activating a Luna strike and stabbing him in the chest clean through his armor was just overkill. I end up feeling kind of silly for coming along in case anyone needed healing.
As the general hits the ground and Chrom sheaths Falchion, it finally hits me. We did it! Holy shit, we actually did it! All that's left is to–
Oh. Right. It's the part that I was the most worried about. The part that I was sure was going to make yet another run necessary. An icy tightness grips my stomach.
"Randall! That's the last of them. I'm sending up Cordelia," Robin says, and the ice twists around some more. I don't have it in me to say anything as Cordelia takes to the sky.
Oh my God. This is it. Please, let this end quickly. God damnit my head hurts.
You're still a liar. A liar and a fiend who plans to use the life of his supposed friend to cover his lie.
"A couple? I'm inclined to doubt that we can do more than this last one."
"Exactly. We gotta do it this time."
A world YOU plan to leave behind, and you alone. You're alone with your lies.
I think about Breakneck. Really think about it. How I was happy to let Cordelia be injured or killed back then too, because I thought I was in control and I was playing with forces I didn't have a grasp on. Watching her fly up toward the top of the spire, it's not hard to remember the scene, even if it was months ago. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Aversa doing something with her hands. She's summoning the Risen archers. All it would take is just letting it happen now. My part is done, isn't it?
The Rescue staff weighs heavily on my back.
"I trust you now to only use it if you really know it's both safe and necessary."
She trusts me with it now. Even after what happened at Breakneck, Lissa put her faith in me. Robin did. Did I really learn nothing back then? I have to act as if this is the only chance I'll ever have, because it might be.
I frantically get out the Rescue staff and start running the calculations to move both Cordelia and Hyperion. It's gonna be a big Rescue, but I have to do this. I point the staff.
Come on, come on, think of where she's going to be, look at how Hyperion moves in the air, the natural lifts and drops, think, think, think. Don't pay attention to all those flashing lights going off, just focus! Now!
I release the spell, and am instantly bowled over as Hyperion crashes into me and flings Cordelia off his back and squarely onto my chest, knocking the wind out of me something fierce. If I weren't already so tired that I'm semi-functioning, I'd have probably enjoyed that a little bit.
It's almost enough to distract everyone from the volley of arrows that convened at the precise spot I just warped her from. And from the several dozen Risen archers now strewn about the courtyard, all of whom are already preparing to take another shot, this time at Emmeryn. Well, except the fair few that aim squarely at Chrom. As Lissa and the others draw closer to the courtyard as well, a couple take aim at her too. Looks like all the Exalted family members are targets.
Once she gets her bearings enough to realize what's happened, Cordelia scrambles off me. As she's helping me up, I can't resist cracking the single worst falling-related joke in the entire world: "Nice of you to drop in."
"What just happened?" she asks.
I nod toward the Risen. "You were almost Swiss-cheesed."
She's silent for a moment as she takes in the sight of the arrows all newly scattered through the courtyard. "I see. Thank you then, Randall."
I manage a smile. "Now we're even."
She looks back at me. "Yes, I suppose we are."
Meanwhile, looks like it's time for the dickhead to gloat. "Well now, isn't this a reversal of fortunes? Even if my archers missed your little pega-pony, they won't miss their new marks. And just in case you want to try any new teleportation shenanigans…" He snaps, and a couple of the archers trained on Emm turn to me instead. "So we'll be having no more of that."
It's amazing how quickly the atmosphere changed. Just moments before, the Shepherds were fighting their way through a hellish onslaught with everything they had, and they managed to handily defeat a decorated general with no casualties. Seconds ago, they ascended the steps with every bit of triumph owed to a victorious army. But with just a few flashes of light, everything has done a complete reversal, and suddenly we are all hostages. It's unreal.
"Gangrel. What is it you want? If all you wanted was Emm dead, you'd have had them fire already," Chrom growls.
"Well, first off, I'd like you to beg. Beg for her life, beg for yours, beg for the lives of everyone standing here. Because these boys are good enough to take down at least half of them before you could so much as turn around to start running," Gangrel says with a grin.
"I'd rather give up my life before I beg for it from you," Chrom replies.
"Tut tut, boy. You weren't listening. It's everyone's lives you're begging for. 'Twould be such a pity if you came all this way, suffered so much, only to lose your sister at the last moment just because you were a tiny bit too headstrong. Think of all the lives you've already taken. Was it all for pride, then? You really are a hypocrite."
Chrom's fists tighten at his side, but he doesn't say anything else.
"How about the rest of you lot? Anyone want to put their pride aside for a moment and get on their knees to save their Exalt?" Gangrel calls to the Shepherds at large. He's enjoying this too much.
Frederick steps forward without hesitation. "King Gangrel. Everything I have, and everything I am, I would gladly give it up for the Exalted family. Including my pride." He drops to his knees with the clang of metal on stone. "Please, I beseech you, spare my lord and my ladies. You may have my life if you so desire, but please allow my lieges to live today."
Chrom looks thunderstruck. "Frederick…"
Gangrel cackles. "Oh my, that was quite heartfelt. I rather enjoyed that. I mean that sincerely, a fine job. But is he the only one who wants to step up?"
I'm surprised when the next movement comes from Maribelle pushing her way to the front of the group. She too falls to her knees. "King Gangrel. We have met before. On your orders, Plegian soldiers killed almost everyone I knew and loved from my home. Those of us who survived that massacre will carry that burden to our dying day. I won't deny that I hate you with every fiber of my being. But if begging for the Exalt's life is what it takes to save her, then I will not hesitate. So please, stay your hand. I beg of you." I can't see her expression, but it's not hard to imagine it.
Gangrel grins pointily. "So, little Mari Contrari has come back to pay her old pal Gangrel a visit. We did have such fun during your last stay in my country, it's true. And I see that mouthy priest is still kicking around with you. The pair of you just couldn't stay away, huh?"
"I'm not a priest. I just think the robe is cool," I say.
He glares at me. "Quite. In any case, I like it. You hate me, and you aren't afraid to say it. That's how war should be. Honest and brutal. Diplomacy is the stuff of weaklings. However, sometimes one must allow just a touch of dealmongering if one wishes to get ahead." He pauses. "I grow tired of this. Oh, get up, you two. It's pathetic." They both stand and rejoin the group.
"So what is it you really want, Gangrel?" Chrom says, his rage just barely held back at this point after watching his retainer and one of his closest friends plead for his life.
He holds up a couple fingers. "Two things. First, lay down your sword. Total surrender, no concessions, no terms. Second, I want the Fire Emblem. Give me those things, and no one else needs to die today."
Chrom's enraged expression cracks a little bit with confusion. "I… What? The Fire Emblem?"
"Yes. And if you don't hand it over, right now, I'll have my archers perforate your sisters, your friends, and your own thick skull for good measure," Gangrel sneers.
Chrom pauses. "I…"
Robin interrupts, "Chrom! You can't trust him!" I can see her looking around frantically, searching for another way for Emmeryn to escape. For my part, I'm just praying Emm is as deceptive as I need her to be for this to work.
"I know I can't! But what other choice is there to make? Even if he plans to kill us either way, don't I owe it to Emm to do everything I can to try to save her, no matter how futile it seems?" Chrom asks desperately.
"Chrom, there's always a way out. You must see that. I just… have to figure it out," Robin says, her own fatigue showing as she finishes her sentence.
"Robin… I know what has to happen. Gangrel, you win. Everyone, lay–"
"Wait!" Emmeryn calls, and even though she's all the way up there I can hear her perfectly. Yes, yes, she's going to speak! "Gangrel, I want a say in this decision. I am still the Exalt of Ylisse, after all, not my brother." It's pretty clear that she's amplifying her voice somehow. How far is her voice carrying? Is this how she manages to spread her message of pacifism so far and wide?
"You'll have a tough time ruling from up there, or in the grave, Exalt," Gangrel retorts.
"I think you'll find I can do plenty. Is there no hope that we can reach a peaceful resolution? I wish to end the hostilities; that's all I've ever wanted between our countries," Emmeryn says.
"The peace of victors, you mean. When the war ended between our countries, with Plegia strangled with the bodies of the dead and drowning in blood, only then were you satisfied to end the war!" Gangrel shouts.
"You know that I, a mere child of less than ten years, had no clout in those days. From the moment it was in my power, I worked to steer us away from war. And you're wrong if you think Ylisse didn't suffer as well. Some communities never recovered from losing most of their able-bodied adults, and many starved even when the war was finished. The path to prosperity has been long-fought and hard-earned, as you no doubt know. You had the mantle of a leader thrust on you only when peace had finally been negotiated, but you oversaw Plegia's recovery with phenomenal success. Would you really leave that behind just to start another war?"
"The war never ended for us, you condescending harlot," Gangrel spits. "The suffering never ended. And in our hearts, we all know who is at fault. It's you! It's all of Ylisse!"
"Wrong again. It's the fault of men and women already more than a decade dead. You and I never chose war back then, which makes your desire to choose it now all the more baffling. Now, I wish to choose peace. Will you choose it with me?"
"I will have the peace my people deserve! The peace of victors! Now choose! The Emblem or your lives? You cannot have both!" Gangrel borderline-screeches.
Chrom interrupts, "The Emblem! You can have it! There may someday be a crisis where it may have helped, but if all you need is the Emblem to think you're a victor, then I'm happy to let you win."
Gangrel grimaces at Emmeryn. "Well, Exalt?"
She's silent for a long moment. Is this it? "Thank you, Chrom. I know what I must do to stop this." She steps forward. "Plegians, your ruler has turned down my offer for peace. I can see why he would; you have already taken our capital and captured me, Ylisse's Exalt. It may appear to many of you that victory is already in your grasp. But the war is far from over if you would choose the path of violence and conquest. If you'll choose peace with me, not a single soul must perish… after today." She takes another step forward. Come on, Emm, you've still got the sheet, don't you? "Let mine be the last blood that must be spilled in this war."
Chrom realizes what she means to do. "Emm, wait! No! NO!" The archers don't stop him from running for the spire, as Gangrel seems to know he can't possibly make it in time. Meanwhile, the king is grinning like a madman at his own realization of her plan.
She falls. No slow-motion, no dramatic music, just the panicked screams of Lissa, Maribelle, and others filling my ears and spiking the pain in my head. I keep my eyes firmly trained on her, trying to see any sign of the wind magic being used. Her hands are folded tightly in front of her, so I can't see if she's holding anything.
She hits the ground. There! Was that it? Did I see a flash of light, or was that just my imagination?
It doesn't matter yet; we need to get her, whether she's alive or not, and get the fuck out of Dodge. Things are already moving very quickly, and even though Gangrel hasn't ordered the Risen to fire yet, I can tell he's gonna be thinking about it here in a second. I don't think I have it in me to do another Rescue in this state, though. I turn to the panicking Maribelle and shake her shoulders.
"Maribelle. Maribelle! Listen to me!" I shout, eventually snapping her out of it just enough that she looks at me. "Rescue Emmeryn's body. I can't do it."
"But, but I've never Rescued anyone successfully before. Where's Lis–" Maribelle says, distraught.
"No time! Lissa's in no state to focus enough to do it! Just do it!" I interrupt, thrusting the Rescue staff into her hands.
She swallows. "O-okay." She raises Rescue staff and points it at Emmeryn, then lets loose the spell. Fortunately, even with her mind no doubt all over the place, and even with such a lack of experience, she focuses enough to get Emm over to us safely.
I turn to Maribelle, half-delirious with relief and fatigue. "You did it, Maribelle!"
She's pretty clearly shocked. "I… I did…"
I shift my attention to Emmeryn on the ground in front of us. She looks… pretty bad. I can't tell if she should look worse than this after falling from that height (I don't actually have much experience watching people fall from cliffs), so I can't really tell if she used the sheet or if she even still had it. Her ribs are definitely smashed, and there's a good bit of blood pouring out of her head as well. Still, there's a chance she's alive. Even if I can't Rescue in this state, I think I can still try and Mend her. I pull out my Mend staff and point it at her, but then reconsider. If Gangrel sees us heal her immediately, then no one will believe that she's actually dead, and the whole ruse will have been for nothing. She has to hold out for long enough for us to get some distance between us and them. I settle for covertly pouring just a little vulnerary down her throat and praying it keeps her going for long enough.
I set aside the Mend staff for the moment and lift Emm off the ground, looking for what I can do with her now, because my tired ass sure as hell can't carry her for long. Fortunately, Maribelle has already remounted her horse and is getting ready to get the hell out of here. She doesn't say anything as I put the Exalt's limp body on her horse; she just holds one arm behind her back to wrap around her and keep her in place behind her. She nods at me.
Basilio and his men arrive, disrupting things just enough that the Risen archers don't fire just yet, instead waiting on new orders from Gangrel. The Feroxi cover our escape as we start to book it west instead of east like Robin had wanted, but like I always figured would happen. There are some cries behind us as we go, and I assume that means the Feroxi are taking some casualties to cover for our escape, but there's nothing we can do at this point. I did what I could, and for once I actually feel like I mean that.
Oh wait, not yet. Still have to make sure that Emmeryn is actually alive. Now that we've gotten away a little bit from the enemy, I stumble-run up to Maribelle and tug on her boot. She looks down at me, eyes stained with tears.
"Hang on a sec, Maribelle. Lemme see the Exalt," I say, and once she stops, I pull Emmeryn down from Fleur-de-lis onto the sand.
"Randy, what on earth are you doing?" Maribelle asks, dismounting from the horse herself.
"Trying something. It just might work," I say, getting out my Mend staff. Please work, please work, please work.
Though it makes me lightheaded even to try, I will the magic to leave the staff and enter her broken body. Come on, please, give me this one.
Yes. Yes! Holy shit, yes! Her wounds are closing! Her chest is bending back into shape! Holy Jesus, thank you God! When I'm finished, her body is, but for the bloodstains on her skin and clothes, the same as it was before. It worked.
When I look at Maribelle, her hands are clasped over her mouth, and the tears flow freely. I think I might be crying too; my vision is blurring with tears of my own. Oh, wait, hang on, no, it's just regular blurring. Damn, that healing really took it out of me. I really should have had Maribelle do it. Am I…?
Oh no, no no no, I can't be, not now! Not when we're so close…
"Send a message to General Mustafa in the Midmire. Tell him the Ylisseans were spotted moving west. Have his men put on high alert. I want those cretins brought back here. In body bags!" the king commands a wyvern rider from his personal guard.
"Yes, Your Majesty. At once," the rider says, taking off and flying at breakneck pace to the west.
Gangrel steps over the bodies of the Plegian and Feroxi soldiers alike. Though he should feel as though he has won, he doesn't. He killed the Exalt, didn't he? It wasn't his first priority of the day, but compared to what the Ylisseans lost, he came out on top by nearly any metric (not counting the number of troops lost, but frankly there are still plenty to go around).
So why does this victory feel so hollow?
He comes across the body of General Campari. The man's incompetence led to their much larger force losing to an exhausted, desert-scorched group of whelps from the coddled east. On their home turf, no less. How could a single commander botch such an easy job? He gives the thick armor a sharp kick.
To his surprise, the middle-aged general groans faintly. He's alive? Gangrel is quick to pull out his healing staff and put it to work. Sure enough, the man's wounds close. He's still unconscious, but he may yet live.
He whistles, summoning a cavalier from his personal guard. He points to the general. "Get this man inside. It seems he doesn't even know how to die correctly."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Aventine, could you come in here a moment?" Mustafa says as calmly as he can, but he can't keep the shaking from tinging his voice with fear.
"Mustafa? What is it?" Aventine asks as he enters the room. He notices the small sheet of paper held in the general's hand.
"It seems the Ylisseans are going to try to escape through the west. That can only mean they intend to take the Midmire, don't you agree?" Mustafa asks.
Aventine begins to understand. "Then… the worst has happened?"
Mustafa chuckles nervously. "The worst… perhaps not. We all heard the Exalt's words, after all. Maybe they can take root in some of the people. Take the spirit out of this meaningless war. But it is almost certainly the end of me."
"Mustafa, no! You can't mean that!" Aventine protests.
"They will come here. Of that there can be little doubt. And I have here the order to stop them at all costs. It seems it is finally my turn to die for king and country." The general leans back in his chair, chuckling humorlessly.
"You could still come with us, Mustafa! You and the family!" Aventine is nearly begging.
"You know I cannot. Even if my family's safety was assured in the short term, it runs the risk of exposing everything we have worked for so long to accomplish. If an otherwise loyal and steadfast general suddenly turns tail and runs at the sight of an undermanned, morally deflated army, that draws undue attention to my affairs, and when the investigation begins, it's only a matter of time. Time you'll need to accomplish our goals. No, it can't be done."
"If they're so weak, then why not… actually defeat them?" Aventine asks. "I mean, couldn't you?"
Mustafa shakes his head. "I don't know. Maybe. Probably. But that's not the point, Aventine. If we crush the Shepherds now, the balance will be shifted irrevocably. Gangrel will be all but unstoppable if we let things get too far out of hand. He's already powerful, doubly so with that witch at his side, but if we deliver the Fire Emblem to him, with the prince's head in a bag to boot, the Plegian army will have no reason to turn on him."
"So you let them win. But why must you die yourself?"
Mustafa is quiet for a moment. "Their Exalt has shown the people that sacrifice has meaning. Hopefully, I can show the Shepherds the same thing. For my men. For my family. And for our cause."
Aventine can't deny the tears pooling in his eyes. "Mustafa, I don't want to do this alone."
The general stands and places a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder. "You won't be. Those who fight for our cause will always stand by you. And when someday you achieve our goals and bring about true peace on this continent, I'll be watching from the next life. And for as long as you never forget me, I will never have died."
Aventine nods slowly. The men move at the same time to embrace each other. After a moment, Mustafa says, "Please, tell my wife. Tell Mikkel. I love them, more than a dullard axeslinger like me could ever find the words to say."
"You were never a dullard. You were brighter than any of us," Aventine says as the pair let go of each other.
"Well, I suppose that could be considered a matter of opinion. In any case, there isn't much time left. The Shepherds will arrive before long, and you must be away before then. Duke Osprey is waiting for you at his villa."
"How am I to get there, Mustafa? If the Shepherds are already inbound, I can't take a horse, after all."
"Very true. It's time I revealed my last secret to you. My ace in the hole," Mustafa says, smiling mischievously.
"What do you mean?" Aventine asks.
Mustafa turns to the shadowy corner behind him. "Alright, enough with the theatrics. Are you ready to go?"
Aventine turns as well and yelps on seeing the man he has somehow missed this entire time. Though the black armor covering him head to toe helped in that regard.
"Yes, general. I'm prepared," the man says, his voice muffled by the visor of his helmet. He steps forward extremely stiffly, his arms locked at his sides.
"Excellent. And I trust Phila is making arrangements to transport my family to Osprey Villa?"
"So far as I know, it was to be her first priority on release from confinement. Or so it was communicated to her by our man at the prison."
Mustafa nods. "Thank you, my friend." He turns to Aventine. "Godspeed, Aventine. We're all counting on you," Mustafa says.
Though this new man makes Aventine feel distinctly uncomfortable, he pulls it together for long enough to say goodbye to his old friend. "I wish you could be there to see it. The new world we'll create."
Mustafa smiles. "It is enough for me to know that you will make it, and that my boy will grow up in it."
The man in black says, "Lord Aventine. It's time to go."
I'm awake.
Now I'm really awake. I shake my head and try to get my bearings. I'm riding a horse. Well, riding passenger, anyway. Someone's arms are holding the reins on either side of me. I look behind me to see who's holding the reins and see it's Stahl, who looks at me when he notices me stirring.
"How long was I out?" I ask urgently. Or as urgently as I can when I'm already on the brink of falling back to whatever mini-coma just took hold of me.
"About ten minutes. Maribelle's just up ahead; she had me pick you up so we could focus on getting out of here. We're doing our best to keep a move on," Stahl replies. I sigh with relief. Thank God it wasn't a long enough time that something crazy might have happened. "Especially since it seems like everyone is in a bit of a panic. I don't know what happened to you, but Robin was a little out of it as well, and without her guidance not a lot of people know what to do. We're kind of spread all over the place."
Well okay, nevermind then. "And where's she?"
"I mean, she's technically awake, but she's so exhausted I'd say it hardly counts. I think commanding the troops through such a crazy ordeal took it out of her. Not to mention… you know, losing the Exalt." So it's not common knowledge among the Shepherds yet. "She's behind us making sure everyone else has gotten out," Stahl says.
"Okay, as long as she's safe, and as long as everyone made it out alright. Would you mind if I stayed on Fennec for a while? To be honest, I'm not a hundred percent confident in my ability to keep myself conscious," I say weakly.
"Yeah, don't worry. Just hang onto me. Get some rest. Maybe even sleep if you can. We're hoping Basilio's agents will be able to get us out of here, but while we look for them, you should try to relax. You look pretty strung out."
I have to admit, it's tempting, even in this tenuous situation. If we really have to keep battling even more today, I'll be in no state to help when I'm like this. But even so, if we can't keep an eye on everyone, it's not a safe call. I remember how determined I was to stay conscious even when Maribelle and Lissa had to put my chest back together after Aversa got ahold of it, all those months ago. If I can stick it out through that, surely I can manage to stay awake a little longer.
Is that a raincloud?
I hate rain. One of the best things about living in the desert is that we so rarely have to deal with it. But it seems like whenever it rains, it absolutely pours. Even safely under the roof of the compound, the air still has that acidic tinge to it that stings the back of my throat. And in the rain, I can never shake the feeling that someone is standing right behind me. Maybe it's because of the sound of raindrops hitting the ground behind me, or maybe it's the thicker quality that rain gives the air, but it's a dreadful feeling.
And even here in the compound, without the rain itself falling on me, I still have that feeling. It makes me think of that–
"A nice day out," the voice I least wanted to hear whispers from somewhere. I can't hold back a small scream, but then I hold my breath, waiting for it to say something else.
…
Nothing. Did I imagine it? I allow myself to breath again. I need to see Master Validar, even for just a minute.
I have to consciously keep myself from running as I go down the hallway to his quarters, but when I get close, I hear muttering that makes me stop short.
"Little Exalt Emmy, such an impressive speech. Impressive, impressive, made an impression, don't you think?"
I can't hear the voice very clearly, but there's no mistake. That hooded… person is in there, talking to Master Validar. I can faintly make out him saying something, but he must be at the far end of the room, as I can't understand what he's saying.
"Well, it wouldn't be fun if your enemy didn't have skill, right? If you have all the cards, it's not a very interesting game…" Master Validar says something, the tone suggesting a question. "Yes, that's why. Has to be interesting." I reach out to the doorknob, unsure of whether or not to enter.
Master Validar says something else in reply. Then the hooded person's tone changes, taking on a downright bone-chilling edge, and they say, "I didn't ask for your opinion, Validar. When I want it, I'll let you know." If it weren't the same voice, I'd hardly believe it was the same person. The hooded person loses their typical meandering way of speaking, and each word cuts through the air, even through the thick door.
My hand freezes on the doorknob. I can't tell if I need to act to protect my master, or if getting involved would just make things worse. I definitely don't want to see that person either way.
Master Validar says something else, more quietly this time. The hooded person replies, "I want things to be interesting. That's all. Everything, so boring, boring, boring." Neither of them says anything for a moment. "Speaking of, I want to see about shaking things up. See which other apples are ripe to fall from the tree. I will see you soon, very soon."
I wait outside the door for something, anything to happen. A minute or so passes in silence, my hand still lingering on the doorknob. Suddenly, the door is pulled open, and my heart skips a beat until I realize it was Master Validar opening the door.
"Damnation!" he exclaims, then takes a breath as he recognizes me. "Ah, Aversa, it's only you. You startled me." He looks considerably worse for wear. His face is pale, beaded with sweat, and his bagged and sunken eyes suggest a lack of sleep. It also becomes apparent after only a second or two that he hasn't bathed in some time. I knew that he has been out of sorts for a while now, but it appears to have worsened recently.
"Master, are you alright? You look unwell," I ask, trying to peer around him into the room and see where the hooded person has gone.
"I am fine. I have simply had a difficult time adjusting ever since we were thwarted at Ylisstol. But it is of little concern. We serve a divine purpose, after all, and a few sleepless nights are a small price to pay," he says with a hint of exasperation.
"Forgive me, but what are you adjusting to? I don't understand." It seems as though he's actively placing himself in my line of sight so that I can't see past him into the room, but I don't want to be too obvious about my desire to peer in.
"It is no matter to anyone but me and our lord," he replies curtly. "Is there anything you need, Aversa?"
I shake my head. "Nothing, Master, except that I wish to know what you would have me do next to help our cause." It looks as if I have no choice but to give up on seeing into the room.
His eyes narrow. "I believe you have done quite enough. Even with a surprise wave of dozens of Risen, you couldn't manage to best the Shepherds or even kill their leader, who had already been captured by Gangrel and was standing atop a lone spire practically begging to be put down. I know that child Gangrel is incompetent, and his generals doubly so, but the battle was so lopsided in our favor that I am baffled at how you managed to muddle it up."
The words sting in my ears, making me wince. "M-master, I–"
"I do not have time to play nursemaid to the feelings of a dependent child incapable of carrying out the simplest of tasks," he snaps.
"It was not so simple, Master Validar!" I can't help but protest. Of course, this has been on my mind as well. "That healer of theirs, that Randall, he knew what I was going to do! He acted too quickly for it to make sense any other way! He's read my mind, or something like it, and it gives them an advantage over us! I even sent a surprise wave of Risen to dispatch them before they got to Golgotha, and they defeated them handily, as if they had been waiting for them! There is something going on here!"
"If you are trying to convince me that it is in fact YOU that is the source of the problem, you are doing a fine job of it. It seems that you are unable to keep any secrets hidden. If I didn't believe in the loyalty you've shown so far, I might go as far as to suspect you of leaking the information yourself," Master Validar retorts.
I'm caught off-guard. "N-no, I would never! Master, you know I wouldn't–"
"I will think on it. Begone from my sight, Aversa. Perhaps you could set your mind to how to prevent the Ylisseans from escaping and rallying support. Or perhaps you should avoid thinking too much in general, else we risk that wretched priest learning all our strategies once again," he hisses, slamming the door and just barely missing my face with it.
I manage to get a few steps from the door before the pressure building in my throat threatens to burst. I do my best not to cry. Crying doesn't help anything. It definitely doesn't help Master Validar. Why am I always letting him down?
It's that Randall. He's the source of everything that's gone wrong for me in the last few months. He keeps anticipating everything or otherwise getting inside my head.
I still haven't forgotten what he said. That I'm being brainwashed. He tried to convince me that it was Master Validar that was doing it. But then today, Master Validar suggests that it might be that I'm the one sharing information with Randall. Could that be true? My head does start to hurt whenever I think for too long about what he told me. Is he hexing me somehow?
Either way, the fact remains that I've been more of a liability than an asset for a long time now, and the pressure of trying to get Master Validar to treat me like he used to it getting to me. I didn't used to be like this.
I feel like I'm losing my mind.
Eventually, we make it far enough west to get to what I'm assuming is the Midmire. I had never really given much thought to what the Midmire actually is when I played the game in the past, but as we have fled further and further west and the ground's unevenness has assumed a sort of strange regularity, it's become increasingly clear that those tall mounds that separate the aisles of the battlefield are actually the half-buried gigantic spine of the ancient Grima. While we were at Golgotha, the ground was high enough that the bones were totally underground, but here in the mire the ground dips enough that the bones are exposed. We've been traveling for at least an hour. It never hit me before just how unbelievably leviathan Grima is, but as we ride past increasingly imposing vertebrae, I'm hit with that sense of cosmic smallness that reminds me of the first time I saw a chart comparing Earth to the sun, and then the sun to other stars. The idea that Lucina ever stood one-to-one against something like this makes my gut churn.
I shake my head to clear it. We won't be able to go any further west from here without attracting Plegian attention, and if we can manage to bust through here, the rest of our trip back north should be through area we've already cleared out. This is our best shot at getting out of here.
The first step is to find Robin. We need a plan to get out of here without losing anyone, and it needs to be solid before one or both of us loses consciousness again. According to Stahl, she should be behind us, so we head back a ways, trying to see anything through this freakish and dramatically well-timed downpour.
When eventually we do find her, near the back of the pack with Tharja at her side, she looks well and truly miserable. Her hood is up to keep the rain off her, and Tharja has her arm around her shoulder to support her. As we draw close, I hop off Fennec.
"Robin, what's the plan?" I ask.
She glares at me. "What are you talking about? We need to go back! We need just one more run. I can work it out, I know I can."
Oh, I see. She doesn't know either. Maribelle hasn't told anyone yet, I guess. That might be for the best, actually. We don't want the Shepherds to be looking too happy as we make our escape, after all. It's kinda fucked up, but it's true. We can tell everyone once we're safely on the road.
"Hey Stahl, and Tharja too, can you give us a minute?" I ask. Stahl nods and rides ahead, but Tharja stands firm.
"I'm not going anywhere. I just got Robin back, so I'm not letting her out of my sight," Tharja says. "Especially when she's in this state."
"Tharja, please," Robin says. "I will be fine. Can you go up ahead and make sure everyone is staying together?"
The struggle is evident on her face. On one hand, she really isn't ready to let Robin out of her sight, but disobeying a direct request from her doesn't sit well with her either obviously. Only after a few very tense seconds does she finally relent and skulk off toward the others up ahead.
Once she's comfortably out of earshot, Robin turns to me and shoves my shoulder, which in my current state takes a significant effort not to fall over from. "What the hell have you been doing? We need to be going back, while there's still time!"
I keep my volume a little more in check as I lean in to tell her, "Robin, Emmeryn isn't dead. There's nothing to go back for."
Her eyes widen. "She's not? Then, the magic sheet worked?" A disbelieving smile breaks out on her face.
I shrug, feeling my own smile coming on despite the dreary environment. "I don't know if it was the sheet or if it was just luck, but my staff was able to put her back together again just fine. She should be with Maribelle right now. And before you ask," I interrupt as Robin opens her mouth, "no, I didn't let any Plegians see me heal her. The little ruse she pulled is intact."
"It is? Oh my gods, that's great!" Her hands grab onto my upper arms. "We have everything in place, then. We just need to get the hell out of here. Are all the others up ahead?"
"Should be. But we're not out of the woods yet. We need to break through the forces stationed at the Midmire here. It's the surest path to a safe retreat," I remind her.
"Right, right." She lets go of me. "I remember seeing that on the map. So that's Basilio's backup plan. Alright, we can make this work. As long as everyone stays together, we can do this." Looks like she's already back in her tactician mode. We set off to rejoin the others.
"One other thing, as a heads-up. I maaay have fallen asleep for a little while there after I healed Emmeryn. It's likely our save point moved as well, but frankly I don't want to find out. In either case, the events of the battle are probably set in stone now," I say as we walk.
Her expression hardens a little. "Randall, we can't be that careless. It's good this time because the battle went our way, but if you'd set Emmeryn's death in stone by passing out trying to heal a corpse, we'd be in deep trouble right now."
"I know, I know. It's not like I meant to. But I had to try. Everything else had been going our way to that point. And I don't think we had another run in us, honestly. And even then, we don't know the rules of this power yet. Maybe the save point is still with you waking up this morning," I reply.
She considers for a moment. "You may be right. About the power, and about our ability to handle another battle. Even this run has been a stretch. We need to be more careful about what fights we pick in the future," she muses. "I hate to admit it, but we got lucky."
We shut our traps about respawning stuff as we get closer to the others. It seems like everyone is pretty worn out, which I'm sure is the result of a lot of things piled on top of each other. The battle was hard-fought and longer than any battle we've endured before, we had to fight in the heat of the desert and are now slogging through a rainy mire, and on top of all that, as far as they're aware we lost the only thing we came all this way for. It makes me feel like shit to withhold the truth from them, but it's only for a little longer, and we need to focus on the fight ahead anyway.
Fortunately, most of the others have pulled together to escape as one, but a few of our more volatile members have charged off ahead toward the Plegian encampment, which is distressing. Among the missing are Chrom (unsurprising), Vaike, Sully, Lissa (she went after Chrom), and Frederick (I assume to keep an eye on the other Exalted siblings). Everyone else is accounted for.
"Alright," Robin tells the group once we reach the spine itself, "if we're going to get everyone out alive, we need to keep our heads. Focus on keeping each other safe. Sumia and Cordelia, take Randall and Libra and search out the ones who went ahead; heal them up if they need it. Maribelle, could you, um, hand over the Exalt to Donnel, please?" With as much reverence as possible, Donnel takes Emmeryn down from Fleur-de-lis and holds her bridal style. If he notices her breathing, he doesn't say anything. "You, Stahl, and Panne will be the advance party of the group. I'll be on with Maribelle on her horse providing covering fire, and Ricken, you'll do the same on Stahl's. Everyone else, keep close to Kellam and Gregor. Donnel, how's Nowi?"
Nowi stands next to him, looking a little out of it still. She raises a hand. "I'm okay, just kinda pooped. And sad."
Robin nods. "Only assume dragon form if you have to, then. Today took it out of you. Gregor and Kellam, make sure everyone is keeping up and staying together. Don't fall too far behind us in the advance party. If we're approached from behind by anything, I want Nowi to transform and give three short roars. Everyone clear?" We all respond in the affirmative. "Good. Let's move!"
Cordelia finds me within a second or two. "Randall, you're with me. Libra is considerably lighter than you, and I trust Hyperion with the weight more than I do Kestrel."
I nod. "Alright, let's get to it."
I try not to actively enjoy getting to ride with one arm around Cordelia's waist as we take off. I'll let you guess how well that worked. What's slightly less appealing is her long red hair blowing straight into my face, obstructing both my vision and ability to breathe normally. Thankfully, once we get up to what I guess you could call cruising altitude, the hair calms down a little and I can see.
We examine the aisles toward the east side of the battlefield while Sumia and Libra handle the west. At one point, a few wyvern riders come after us, but even with my dead weight changing up her balance, Cordelia handles them nicely. It's also helpful that Ricken sends a few Elwind blades our way from the ground to keep the enemy from synchronizing their attacks in any way. From there, Cordelia's agility advantage proves more helpful than the enemy's blind speed in this rain.
In the meantime, I'm straining my eyes to try and find any of our friends down below. Looks like a whole lot of Plegians to me. Wait, what are they doing in that eastmost aisle? They're fighting someone! Who is that down there…? I see blue. Did Chrom go off on his own to take the fight to the Plegians? That idiot.
"Cordelia, someone's down there," I say, tapping her shoulder and pointing down to the aisle. She nods and shoots down closer to the person in question.
Hang on, that's a horse. That's Frederick! Why the hell is he off on his own? I'd think he would stick with Chrom and Lissa for sure, but they have to be at least a few aisles farther down the battlefield. Maybe he's acting as a decoy to keep them off the others for as long as he can.
In any case, he seems to be doing pretty much alright. Even when it's five on one like it is now, his presence dominates the scene. Before we even get down to him, five has become four thanks to an absolutely savage blow he lays on one of the mercs attacking him.
Even so, we want to help out as well, so Cordelia swoops low and stabs at near-freefall speed through one of the others before pulling back up, wrenching her lance out as we lift off again. We pull around quickly, then dive back in for another attack. While Frederick is focused on another merc, Hyperion shoots between two lancers, and while she stabs the one on the right, I decide to help as well and take a swing with my staff at the one on the left. The sound isn't unlike an aluminum bat being swung at full speed against a metal support beam. It also jars my arm something awful, so I decide that even though it might have helped, I won't be doing that again.
However, as we come around this time, we see that the wyvern riders that had been fighting us have also spotted Frederick down there and are looking to make an aerial strike of their own. Before we can get to him, one takes advantage of his distraction with the remaining ground soldier by diving down behind him and taking a swing at his lower back. The blow knocks Frederick clean off his horse, sending him crashing to the ground in a heap.
As the rider that hit him comes back up, Cordelia stabs down at him from above, mortally wounding him and knocking him off his mount. Before the other wyvern rider can make his move on Frederick, Cordelia cocks her arm back and launches a javelin that had been strapped to Hyperion's side down at her target. It misses the rider but hits the wyvern's wing, sending it off course and making it crash into one of the vertebrae. Rider and mount together crash to the dirt on top of the remaining ground soldier.
Holy shit is Cordelia good.
We touch down, and while Cordelia heads over to the crashed rider to make sure the soldier, the rider, and his mount have all been dispatched, I book it over to Frederick, staff in hand.
Before I can even raise my staff, though, he holds up a hand to stop me, then pushes himself to a sitting position with his arms.
"No time! I already drank vulnerary, and the wounds are closed. Just get me back on my horse. I will recover when there are no Plegians left in our way," he growls. I check his back just to make sure, and like he said, despite the missing armor chunk that had been knocked away, the skin underneath is sealed. Secretly I'm relieved; I don't know if I could handle healing anyone right now without putting my consciousness in danger, and that is the last thing we need.
Cordelia has made quick work of the enemy, so she comes to help me get Frederick squared away. He handles pulling himself off the ground mostly by his arms supported on our shoulders, and when he walks to his horse, he walks with a limp. Seems like his legs must hurt like hell still. Even so, all he really needs from us is to get his leg (and the heavy-as-hell armor that adorns it) over the horse and into the stirrup. Other than that, the juggernaut looks more or less as undaunted as always.
"I will ride north, but the pair of you should head over the bones and rejoin the others posthaste," Frederick says. We nod and waste no time getting back in the air.
As we pass over the vertebrae into the west aisles, it looks like the rest of the team has convened on Chrom's position. The others are all there as well, and the Plegian forces are dwindling. It seems that Robin has been leading them well.
Down on the field, it's evident that Chrom is fighting with the ferocity of a wild animal. He's right on the front line, slashing with wide, unmeasured strokes. If the enemy weren't so clearly terrified of him, they probably wouldn't have a difficult time beating him, but fortunately, intimidation is a factor, so they are all held back by their own pants-shitting fear.
As we touch down looking to help out as well, a booming voice cuts through the rain and the din of battle. "Warriors of Plegia! Stand down immediately! That's an order!"
On command, the remaining Plegians drop their weapons and back up as quickly as they can. Out of the obscurity of the rain steps a man dressed in armor that looks like it's made of bone. He's bald, he's got a long beard, and he carries a massive axe. It's General Mustafa, AKA the best bad guy in the game. I was actually hoping we could get through here quickly enough to avoid having to fight him. Plus, I still have some lingering questions about why he apparently commanded Vasto to intercept us at Breakneck and why he had a deal with Aventine. Questions I can't ask if he's dead.
"Prince Chrom!" Mustafa shouts. "My name is General Mustafa Issachar of Plegia. Will you hold for just a moment while I speak?"
Though Chrom seems to have a moment where he considers just continuing his attack, he at last lowers his sword. "What could you possibly have to say?"
"I want to tell you that I heard your sister's words. We all did. Her message reached farther than you may know. I agree with her desire for peace. Many of us do, in fact."
"Then lay down your arms, all of you, and let us go, right now," Chrom replies.
Mustafa shakes his head. "I cannot. Not so easily. The king knows me well. If my men and I were to allow you to simply leave, I could not guarantee their safety, nor the safety of my family. And I see in your face that you know well the value of family."
Chrom raises his sword again. "Then you mean to fight us!"
Mustafa quickly replies, "No, Prince. I mean to fight you, specifically. And I mean just myself, as well. This is what I propose: you and I shall duel. If you win, I hereby order my men to stand down and allow you passage out of this place. But if I win, I want you to order your troops to submit to imprisonment. I don't wish there to be more bloodshed, but I cannot oppose Gangrel openly. So I ask this of you. Let us duel, and if you win, I want you to spare my men. Do you agree?"
Chrom considers for a moment. "Alright, we have a deal. But if one of your men so much as twitches near one of my soldiers when this is done, I will cut down every Plegian here. Understood?" he snarls.
Mustafa nods. "Understood. Let us begin." He brandishes his axe.
The rest of us back up, and the fight begins. Chrom still fights with the rage he had before, but this time he's coming against a much more formidable warrior. Mustafa isn't intimidated by Chrom's anger, nor is he daunted by Chrom's strength when it's so imprecisely applied. He easily bats aside and parries each of Chrom's swings, but infrequently follows up with a counter of his own. Even so, Chrom is taking some serious hits, just about every time Mustafa decides to attack.
Chrom isn't just losing this fight; he's throwing it away. Does he think that after losing Emm, there's nothing left to fight for? Is he just leaving it all on the field before making his exit? That must be why he stormed off ahead of everyone else. He intends to die.
I'm afraid that if any of us intervene, even with healing, then the duel will be off and the fight will ensue. I can see up on the vertebrae above us that as the duel has progressed, more Plegians have been gathering just in case they need to take us prisoner by force after the duel. This could turn to a full-scale fight if the duel is violated.
But I have to do something.
"Chrom!" I shout, almost without thinking. "Emmeryn isn't dead! She survived the fall!"
It seems like almost everything pauses at once. I feel every eye in the Midmire turn to me, including Mustafa and the rest of the Plegians.
"Randall? Is that true?" Chrom asks weakly.
"Yes. Yes, it's true. I healed her myself. Donny, can you bring her here?" He carries her through the crowd, and Chrom and Lissa rush over and place their heads on her chest to listen for a heartbeat. They both gasp. "I didn't want to say it because I thought her sacrifice might not motivate the Plegians to abandon this war unless they thought she was dead. But she was willing to die. Whether it was luck, or divine intervention, or whatever, she didn't. She's alive," I explain. Then I turn to the general. "Mustafa, can't this stop? Will you help us actually stop this war?" I ask.
Mustafa thinks for a long while. "Even so, I… There are still things that…" He starts laughing. "I admit, I did not anticipate that. Young man, you have totally undermined the sacrifice I intended to make for my men. I was initially planning to allow Prince Chrom to win, to die here, in the hopes that my men could be spared. But if even your Exalt yet lives, that rather takes the wind out of my sails." He laughs some more, a full chest-laugh. "Plegians, stand down. Prince Chrom, your man here has won the duel for you."
Chrom turns to me and throws his arms around me, followed swiftly by Lissa. Each of them is crying. We stay that way for a couple minutes. While that's happening, Robin steps forward.
"General Mustafa. Will you join us? You could help us bring peace to our countries," she says.
He shakes his head. "That remains one step too far. I cannot ask my men to turn on their motherland, even when she is headed by a tyrant. The families of each man to turn coat are in jeopardy, after all, as are all his friends and associates. No, open rebellion is beyond us. But you are free to go this day, and know that our hearts also yearn for peace."
From there, things at last start calming down. Mustafa's men start returning to the fortress, along with the man himself. So we managed to spare him after all, huh? Not bad. Maybe today could actually turn out alright.
Robin takes a covert swing at my head when no one's looking. "What are you doing? I thought we intended to keep her survival a secret from the Plegians, not announce it outright to their general!"
"You saw what was going on! Chrom was going to get himself killed if someone didn't intervene. Well, I guess with what Mustafa said, maybe not. But even so, Mustafa seems like a good man to me. Maybe he'll have his men keep it a secret from the rest of the Plegian army and the war will still die down," I counter.
"A secret kept between two people is difficult to hide. Among three, even more so. Among a whole fortress' encampment of soldiers? There's no chance. This will come back to bite us, I'm sure of it," she says sourly.
"Maybe it won't, though. We have to believe that the Plegians really want peace too, Robin," I reply.
She sighs. "I guess we can hope." A small smile creeps onto her face. "And I suppose it's nice to avoid conflict when we can. Even if that's not how I would have done it." She gets more serious again. "Anyway, we still haven't seen Frederick. Did you and Cordelia manage to find him earlier?"
Oh fuck. I forgot about that in the heat of the moment. "He went north from the eastmost aisle. I don't know what happened to him from there."
She blanches. "Let's go."
However, not long after we get to the north side of the spine, we spot Frederick's horse trotting toward us from the east, its rider looking a little worse for wear but certainly alive.
"Frederick!" I call as we rush over to him. "What happened?"
"I met a few more Plegians after you and Cordelia departed. Needless to say, I came out on top. They did manage a few blows on me, but with the rest of the vulnerary I carried, the damage is mitigated. Now I simply feel quite numb, and very much in need of rest," he explains.
"Why were you off on your own anyway?" Robin asks.
"I meant to serve as a diversion for milord and milady, that they might escape by a different path. But it seems that now the Plegians have stood down and are letting us pass. What's happened?"
"Mustafa told his company to let us go. Emmeryn's message must have gotten through to them," Robin replies.
Frederick sighs with relief. "Then we are at last delivered, at least for today. That is a mercy," he says, leaning forward concerningly.
"Whoa, there," I say. "Let's get you an actual healer there, boss."
"N-no need to trouble yourselves. I will be…" And that's all he manages before he slumps over on his horse. Even if he's not actively bleeding out, I want someone who won't pass out from the effort to heal him up. Fortunately, Libra is one of the Shepherds near the back of the pack. I call him over.
"Can you make sure he's just resting and not actually hurt? I'm on the verge of collapse myself here," I say, and as I say it, I realize how much I mean it. I'm not gonna last much longer.
Libra smiles gently. "Of course. You two can go on ahead. I will guide his horse to carry him alongside the caravan."
I nod gratefully, and Robin and I trudge off to rejoin the others. After a few moments of silence, I wordlessly raise my hand. She realizes what I'm after and gives me the sleepiest high-five I've ever experienced.
Good God do we need to sleep.
We meet Olivia, along with the rest of the Feroxi operatives ready with our caravan carts to get moving back north. I don't get the chance to speak with her personally, nor would I really want to when I'm in this state. Right now I've got one thing on my mind.
As Robin and I climb drowsily into the command wagon, Robin points to Donnel walking nearby. "Donny. If anything, and I mean anything, happens, I want you to come get us first before doing anything else. Got it?"
He salutes, knocking his helmet askew with his enthusiasm. "You got it, Robin."
Robin and I enter the wagon as the horses start pulling it into motion. She silently slips off her coat, rolling it up into a sort of round-ish shape, and immediately gets on the floor and lies down, using her coat as a pillow. Figuring that's a better idea than using a magic tome again, I pull my robes off, and ignoring how drenched they are, roll them up and lie down a few feet away from her. It's not comfy, but at this stage, I'm so far beyond caring.
I don't dream either. Dream-Melinda's got nothing on me after today.
"Um, Robin? Randall?"
No, please, don't. I want more sleep. I need more sleep.
"Maribelle told me to come get you. She said it's urgent."
Not a chance. Whatever it is, she's got it.
"Really urgent."
Ugh, fine. I wrench my eyes open. My body gets acquainted with a new level of soreness it's never experienced before as I slowly sit up and take a squinty-eyed look at Ricken in the doorway.
"What is it?" I ask as Robin slowly starts moving as well.
"It's Exalt Emmeryn. She's woken up."
Well, that gets the body moving. When I stumble out of the wagon, I'm greeted with a vindictive blast of desert sun to the eyeballs. And to the skin, for that matter; it's damn hot.
"How long were we out?"
"About a day. We didn't want to wake you, but this is… well, you'll see." He sure doesn't look too chipper considering the news he's delivering. What's up with that?
Oh no.
I book it over to the medical wagon, with Robin following closely behind. When we get inside, Chrom, Lissa, and Maribelle are all gathered around Emmeryn, with Frederick lying asleep nearer to the front of the wagon. As we enter, Emmeryn looks at me with what I can only call a helpless expression.
Please no.
"Randy I–" Maribelle begins, then stops herself. "We did everything in our power to make sure that Exalt Emmeryn would stay alive and safe. To that end, we succeeded. Physically. But mentally, there appears to have been some… damage." Lissa sobs into her brother's shoulder. "She cannot speak. And she doesn't appear to understand speech, as far as we c-can tell," Maribelle continues, but she starts getting choked up as well. "O-of course, it's good that she s-survived, but w-we couldn't… well…"
"We couldn't save all of her," Chrom mutters. His fists are tightened in his lap. "Even after all of that, everything we sacrificed and worked for, she still…"
I have no idea what to say. I don't know what to do. I can't think. Emmeryn looks at me almost pleadingly, as if I'll have some answer for why all these people are speaking gibberish and crying around her. I don't have any such answer. It doesn't seem like Robin does either, because she doesn't say a thing.
"Emm, it's me!" Lissa suddenly shouts. "It's your baby sister! Lissa! Don't you recognize me?"
Emmeryn jumps in surprise, turning to look at Lissa. As Lissa continues to plead with her to recognize her, Emmeryn's expression shifts from confusion to fear and sadness, and tears start welling up in her eyes too.
"L-Lissa, darling," Maribelle says through her tears. "Perhaps w-we should give your s-sister some time. M-maybe a good rest is all she n-needs."
Though Lissa still sobs openly, she allows Maribelle to drape her desert cloak over her and take her outside.
Chrom, Robin, and I sit in silence for a few minutes while Emmeryn looks around in bewilderment. Maribelle is right, of course: what Emm needs is rest, and lots of it. But I'm still not able to convince my body to get up and leave.
Finally, Chrom stands and heads for the door, pausing to plant a hand too firmly on my shoulder. "You did what you could. Thank you for that," he says in the tightest, most strained voice I've ever heard. He throws on his cloak and leaves the wagon.
"Randall," Robin says in a low voice. "We need to take some time to process this. Why don't you come with me?"
Before I can think to reply, Frederick coughs on the other side of the wagon as he wakes up. I turn to Robin.
"I'm gonna make sure he's okay. You go ahead. I'll meet with you soon," I say in as neutral a tone as I can manage.
She doesn't fall for it; I can see it in her expression. Still, she nods and leaves the wagon. Picking up a staff and walking over to Frederick, I kneel down beside him. He's had his armor stripped off and is only in the somewhat-shredded butler uniform of black slacks, a white shirt, and a black vest and tie. The man doesn't know the meaning of leisure, I guess.
"You doing okay?" I ask. That's right. Focus on Frederick right now. Someone you can actually help.
"I… I believe so, only…" He tries to sit up, but falters and falls back down. "Oh. Oh my." He tries again, and fails again. He reaches down and feels his upper thigh, then slides his hand down to his knee. He does it with the other leg. "Randall, I… I can't feel my legs."
My heart stops in my chest. Come on, not this too. Jesus, I don't know if I can handle this. "Wh-what? What do you mean?"
He takes a couple deep breaths first. Then when he's collected himself, he says, "I can neither feel nor move my legs. Can you attempt to heal me with your staff, please?"
In the back of my mind, I already remember what I read before. If he lost bone or otherwise had a part of his spine straight up taken out, there's nothing I'll be able to do. I try not to panic as I hold the staff up and let the magic, considerably weaker than normal, out and into his legs.
After a few seconds, I ask, "Anything?"
He strikes his leg with a fist. "Nothing."
"Frederick, what happened?" I ask, doing my best to avoid shouting.
"Well, I suppose after that significant blow from that wyvern rider, I must have taken quite a bit of damage. The vulnerary did at least stop the bleeding, but I was still in pain afterward, so it failed to do a complete job. Even so, I sent you and Cordelia off because I was concerned more for milord and milady's safety than my comfort.
"After that, though, there must have been a weak spot in my armor near the small of my back, because when I engaged a few more Plegian soldiers after that, one of them scored a mere light blow on my back. It hurt for a moment, but the pain quickly faded, so I presumed it to have been a feeble strike. However, I think now that the reason the pain left me so quickly is because the feeling itself had left my lower body. As I said before, I drank some vulnerary for my trouble and thought I was in fine shape. I was so caught in the thrill of battle that I didn't notice the lack of feeling before I lost consciousness. I only… noticed it now." His hands have started shaking during his recounting of the story.
I should have known. I shouldn't have trusted vulnerary alone for a blow that huge to such a sensitive area. I should have inspected it before we left. God damnit. God damnit!
"Randall, is there someone else in the wagon? I can hear them, but I can't see them behind you. No one else was injured during the escape, I hope?" Frederick interrupts my thoughts.
"O-oh. It's, well… here," I say, sliding out of the way so that he can see Emmeryn, who looks back at him with the same confusion that she looks at everything with.
He audibly gasps. "M...Milady Emmeryn?" he whispers. "You survived?" She doesn't reply or do anything that suggests she knows she's being spoken to, but a smile slowly grows on his face nonetheless. "Dear gods above… I thought it beyond hope."
I decide it's better to drop the bomb on him right away. "Frederick, she's lost her ability to speak or understand language. She also seems like she might have some major memory loss."
His expression remains the same awed, disbelieving joy it was before. "Milady… Oh thank the gods," he says, and for the first time, I see tears flow from his eyes. To my amazement, he starts dragging himself on his arms across the floor over to her, his legs limply following in his wake.
"Whoa, Frederick, hang on," I say, but to no avail; he won't be stopped.
He comes to rest beside the pretty well terrified looking Emmeryn. "Milady Emmeryn…" he says reverently, gently reaching out and taking one of her hands. "Forgive my impropriety, but…" Her body tenses up at his touch, but she doesn't pull away. He holds her hand with both of his, rubbing his thumb slowly over the back of her hand as if to reassure himself it's real. "You survived. When I saw you fall, I… No matter. You've escaped death, and that's all that matters to your faithful knight."
After that, he falls silent, content merely to hold her hand and lie beside her. For her part, Emmeryn slowly relaxes as well, her expression finally dropping the fear and apprehension and replacing them with a sort of quiet calm. As she does this, I realize I'm intruding on a pretty sensitive moment.
As I make my way to the door, I turn to Frederick. "We'll be in and out to keep an eye on you two. Make sure to sleep as much as you can," I say stiffly, then shut the door behind me.
Even though I just woke up from a day of sleep, I'm already drained. For the rest of the day, I walk in numb silence, completely disregarding everyone who tries to talk to me and even ignoring the sun beating down on me as I left my robes in the command wagon. I do my best not to think about anything. At dinner, I don't eat. I set up the old black tent and unroll my bedroll as soon as it gets dark out. I get as comfortable as I can with my new collection of sunburns, then go to sleep.
Maybe all this is just a bad dream. A really bad dream.
"Yes, you'd rather like that, wouldn't you?"
"Oh for Christ's sake, do I look like I need this?"
"Now more than ever, actually. But perhaps you don't need to hear it from me after all."
"What do you mean?"
In the blink of an eye, Mindy is gone, replaced by a man I scarcely recognize.
"Been a while, Randall."
"Oh my God, Jackson, it's you!"
"Right you are. I think you'd nearly forgotten about me."
"What are you talking about? Of course I wouldn't!"
"Why not? You didn't know me all that long, after all."
"But you were a friend to me! You were always kind and accommodating even to a novice like me."
"You say that now. It's easy to say that now. But the truth is you never think of me. Isn't it? And don't forget: you can't lie to me here."
"I… Look, you know how crazy my life has been! I haven't been able to think about much of anything!"
He grimaces, then in an instant is replaced by a little old woman.
"Isadora! You have to believe me! I haven't forgotten you all! I haven't!"
"You stood there. My daughter had been killed, beheaded by that witch, and you did nothing. I died in vain trying to avenge my daughter alone, dearie. What could you possibly have to say for yourself?"
"There was nothing I could do! I tried to die in order to save you, but it didn't work!"
"It wouldn't have worked anyway, as you now know. Robin was off with the rest of the Shepherds, was she not? No, I'm not talking about your power. It is you that didn't save us. You knew they were coming, and you warned no one."
"I didn't know when they were coming! How could I have told them that the enemy was coming without knowing when? And even if I did, how could I have justified having that information?"
She stands a little taller, slowly shifting and smoothing out, her hair growing until it's Maribelle standing in front of me.
"So my family died to protect your precious secret, Randy?"
"It's not like that! You barely knew me then! You wouldn't have ever believed me!"
"That's what you tell yourself. But you were never even inclined to try warning us. You never considered it. You were too busy having fun training and flirting with the cute blonde and her quaint servants."
"Maribelle, that's not true—"
"And then, on top of that, when I gave my heart to you, you stomped on it and handed back the pieces when you were through with me."
"You know that's not how that happened! It wasn't healthy, what we were doing! I did something good!"
"You did something convenient. Easier to cut and run than to sort out your problems at their core. You left them all to me to handle alone while you went off with everyone else, carefree as a lark. They all took your side, Randy. Even Lissa at times."
"You have to know I never wanted to hurt you, Maribelle! I have never wanted that!"
"But you did it anyway. And I still hurt, even now."
"Maribelle, please listen to me!"
But she's gone. Replaced by Lissa.
"Why didn't you save my sister, Randy?"
"Wh-what? I… I did! She lived! She survived the fall! That's more than we would've had if I had done nothing!"
"You saved her shell. You saved a thing that looks like her, but it's not my sister anymore. She'll never look at me the way she used to. Now she'll only look at me with that fear in her eyes, Randy. It tears me apart."
"Lissa, I did everything I could! I don't know what else I could have done!"
"Why didn't you Rescue her as she was falling? Or even before we sent Cordelia up in the first place?"
"It was… it was important that she say the things she said. That she made that sacrifice. That she show everyone she was prepared to die."
Lissa's gone now, with Chrom taking her place.
"So that's why you took our sister from us."
"I didn't! She made that choice herself!"
"A choice she would never have needed to make if you had done the right thing!"
"I… Look, Chrom, stopping this war is bigger than any person, even—"
"Don't you dare say that it was a sacrifice you were willing to make! It was never your choice to make! You monster. This is still a game to you, even after all this time. Everything you've seen. Everything you've done."
He collapses to the floor, but when he hits the ground, he's changed into Frederick.
"I'll never walk again, Randall. You did this to me."
"I didn't! That blow you took knocked pieces of you loose that I could have never put back! Even if I had acted immediately, the damage would have been permanent."
"But you let us believe Exalt Emmeryn was dead. You fueled our despair, and drove us to this. I would never have needed to act as the decoy if milord were not so distraught at the supposed death of his elder sister. I would be able to walk right now if you had told him straight away."
"I was unconscious! He left and ran ahead!"
"You were on Stahl's horse for an hour, and you made no effort to make the truth known. It's only the smallest of mercies that you revealed it in time to save milord, but you didn't in time to save my spine. I will never walk again, Randall. You did this to me."
"Please, stop. Please."
Still lying on the ground, he changes to Emmeryn herself. She doesn't say anything, but rather just looks at me with that confused, helpless expression, pleading with me to help her.
"Emmeryn, I didn't mean for this to happen to you. Please, if you understand anything, understand that I never intended this. I never thought this would happen."
"..."
"God damnit, it was all going so well! We were going to save you, stop the war, fix everything. But that's all gone out the window, and all because I couldn't come up with a good enough plan. I even knew what was going to happen in advance, and yet I still came up short."
"..."
"Son of a bitch. What am I even telling you this for? You don't understand anything right now, huh?"
"...Say it."
"Huh?"
"Say it."
"Say what?"
"Say it!"
"Tell me what you want me to say!"
"SAY IT!"
"I don't understand!"
"SAY IT!"
"I'm sorry!"
"SAY IT!"
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
Now Frederick is here, repeating it with her. "SAY IT!"
"I'm sorry, please just stop!"
Now Chrom and Lissa. "SAY IT!"
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
Now Jackson, Isadora, and Mindy. "SAY IT!"
"I'M SORRY!"
Finally, Maribelle. "SAY IT!"
"I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!"
"Randy!"
"I'M SORRY!"
"Randy, wake up!"
"I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY, JUST PLEASE STOP!"
"Randy!" Someone is shaking me.
My eyes snap open.
I'm in my tent. It's dark and cold. What am I holding onto?
I lift my head a little and realize I've had my face buried in Maribelle's lap, and we're not alone in the tent either. Robin is close by, holding onto my left hand (and based on the reddish marks on her hand, I'm guessing I was crushing it pretty awfully), while outside the tent I can see at least Chrom, Lissa, and Cordelia standing there, peering in with concern.
"Randy," Maribelle says gently, pulling my attention back to her, "it was just a dream. That's all. Just a dream."
I realize I must have been shouting out loud in my sleep. No wonder I've apparently woken up half of the Shepherds. A wave of shame is added on top of the guilt and stress that I can see now have been mounting for quite a while. Finally, the dam bursts.
For the first time since I came to this world, I start crying. Ugly, full-throated sobs that make it difficult to breathe and impossible to do anything but pour it out. I can't even speak properly at this point.
Maribelle pulls me in by my shoulders and buries my head in the crook of her neck, wrapping her arms tightly around me while I hang onto her back and stain her nightgown with tears and snot. I hear Robin scoot closer and feel a third hand on my back, rubbing my shoulders softly. The only thing anyone says over my wailing is Maribelle quietly whispering "Shh," in my ear, as if she were a mother comforting a child. I certainly feel that way right now.
After some time, I tire myself out, emptied of tears and sobs for one night. I allow Maribelle and Robin to guide me back to my bedroll and lay me down. The pair of them each give me a soft, understanding smile as they leave the tent, closing the black flap behind them.
Before they do, though, I see the others still standing outside. Not one of them had left.
A/N: So, that about wraps up what I'm tentatively calling the first major arc of the story. Been a long time coming, huh? And to think, at one point I was considering making this chapter and the last chapter one big monster chapter. I know you guys have generally spoken favorably about the lengthier chapters, but both of these together would've been pushing about 30k words, and that's a whole new level of length, so I'm glad I called off that idea. I know I kinda ended things on a downer note with this one, but I felt that pretty appropriate considering Chapters 9 and 10 of Awakening are arguably the saddest in the game itself. Gotta knock our heroes down a few pegs before they can rise up to triumph another day, right? I'm excited to launch into the second phase of the Plegian War in earnest here in the coming chapters. Plenty of goodies coming your way!
As always, I have to thank the wonderful Syntaxis and Mixed Valence for their help with making this chapter the best it could be. Their advice was indispensable this time around, especially in regards to a moment I've decided to save for a later chapter. You'll see. Oh, and speaking of Syntaxis, they've started up a subreddit specifically for the FE fanfiction fans among us! So if you haven't already, go and show r/FireEmblemFanfiction some love and spread the word! And here is your out of context Syntaxis quote of the week: "But I distinctly remember that there was this forbidden section for just eighth graders. We thought the books there must have been all about this filthy 'secks' thing we kept hearing about."
I think I've been doing a little better with responding to my reviewers personally, but if I didn't specifically send you a message, it's likely because I didn't have a particular question for you in response to your comments. Even so, I read and love everything you guys throw my way :3
As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!