Reviews:
Guest: Thank you, I'm happy you enjoyed.
Greer123: No problem. And I won't give away any spoilers, but I have plans for the whole Horcrux situation.
Lawbringer: I'm glad you enjoyed, I hope this one wasn't too late.
Gracie15Trowa: I do have plans for Griffith, but there was one option that I do plan on doing for certain.
Kabuto S. Inferno: Don't worry about not posting previous reviews. As a fellow college student, I can relate. But Thank you for your kind words and polite critique. I have gone back and tried to fix as many mistakes as possible. I'm glad that you're enjoying the story and thank you for still keeping up with it.
Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.
Following the victory at the Battle of Doldrey, Chuder was forced to withdraw a vast majority of their forces form Midland's territory. The deaths of General Boscogn and Lord Gennon proved devastating to Chuder's war effort as Boscogn was their top military general, and Gennon provided them with more funding than any other lord for the war effort. To further compensate for the loss, Chuder's monarchy devised a method for forced military drafting. But in an unexpected turn of events, the peasant population broke out in open revolt at the decree, and instead, their focus turned inward to combat the rebellion rather than Midland. With Chuder now focused on their internal problems, the Hundred Year War was at last at an end.
To all those who resided in Windham, it was a day to be remembered. As the Band of Hawk came riding back through the city streets citizens pooled around to shout praise to the soldiers. Men cheered and drank, women threw bouquets of flowers to the riders, and everyone had their windows open as all clamored to get a look at the young leader of the Hawks himself, Griffith. But the best view was from the castle, where Minister Foss and Queen Mary, as well as a few other nobles, watched the parade trot through the streets.
"Have you made the arrangements?" The queen asked him without looking in his direction. Her attention was on the parade below.
Foss gave an unnoticed bow of his bald head. "Consider it done, your majesty."
"Perhaps we should hold a feast when all is said and done?" She considered. "After his untimely passing."
How ironic, Foss smirked in agreement, that the White Hawk should meet his end after the war is over. He will be trapped inside the very walls he once defended. It was no secret that members of the traditional nobility despised Lord Griffith. A base-born peasant turned lord over a few victories, and if rumors were to be believed, captured the favor of Princess Charlotte.
Griffith was an inspiration to the peasant class, but one need only look at Chuder's current state to see how the low-born outnumbered the high-born. To allow someone like that so much power and influence was a gamble that Midland couldn't afford at the moment. The war with Chuder had nearly bankrupted the kingdom with its hiring of mercenary bands, and pay farmers to stockpile their crop should the capital fall under siege. Foss knew this, and more importantly, so did the queen.
Queen Mary despised Griffith more than anyone. From his birth status, to rise in rank, to her suspicion that he had been involved in Count Julius' death, she hated the young man to his core. It didn't help at all that her stepdaughter was quite taken with him. But the queen would not have to wait long for the demise of Griffith. Foss had pulled a few strings to acquire a poison from the Uterine Isles of the south. It was colorless, odorless, and most importantly, untraceable. A few drops of it in Griffith's goblet during the ball tonight and that would be the end of it.
"Minister Foss," a court courier approached him.
"Hm. What is it?" Foss asked. The courier handed him a letter with an unrecognizable seal. "Who is this from?"
"I was asked to give it to you from a lady of the court," the courier answered. "She didn't say what it was about." He bowed. "Excuse me."
Foss dismissed him and unfurled the parchment. His eyes scanned over the first paragraph and then widened in shock and horror at the contents of the rest of it. "…It can't…"
"Something the matter, Minister Foss?" The queen asked actually looking away from the parade.
Foss could feel sweat forming on his forehead but put on a fake smile. "Nothing is wrong." His hands curled around the now folded letter. "I just have an errand to run. If you'll please excuse me." Foss didn't exactly wait for his dismissal before exiting the chamber.
Once he was out of earshot from the chambers, he broke out into a run as fast as his short legs would allow him. How?! How could this have happened?! Foss' eyes nearly bulged from his sockets. That bastard! How could he have known! He was cunning; there was no denying that, but this? Elize…
Night had fallen quickly in Windham, but looking at the castle was like staring at the sun. Every window was illuminated by candlelight, and none has shown brighter than the ones from the ballroom. Hundreds of people could fit into the room and there was still enough room for others to dance. From the high ceiling and chandelier to freshly polish marble floor and decretive columns, the place practically screamed high class. It was too bad they had to dress how they did.
Griffith had told them that they would have to look their best for tonight's events, and Harry had almost wanted to disobey that order. Much like Rickert, Harry found himself wearing a heavy wool doublet with a poofy collar and, a bib? That probably wasn't what it was actually called, but the way he had to put it around his neck and tuck it in the front of his outfit made it feel like a bib.
Walking into the ballroom beside them was Corkus, who seemed to be pulling off the outfit much better than either of the boys. "Stick your chests out," Corkus advised them. "Act confident, you can't afford to look nervous now." How he was able to say that while wearing a wide-rimmed blue hat with a feather in it, Harry would never know.
"Does it have to be so itchy?" Harry asked Rickert as he scratched at the side of his neck. How did the nobles wear this?
"I have no idea," Rickert fiddled with some of the buttons on his cuffs. Despite getting their outfits tailored Harry felt rather uncomfortable, and the large crowd of nobles in the ballroom wasn't helping much either.
They were supposed to be heroes, and Harry couldn't stop scratching at his neck. The way some of the nobility were looking at them made Harry feel like some kind of fish on display. He was out of his pond and swimming into some larger lake filled with fish much bigger than himself. Harry felt a large hand place itself on his shoulder, and look up revealed it to be Pippin, the resident giant of the Hawks.
Wordlessly, Pippin helped tuck in his bib-like and adjust his collar. "Thanks, Pippin."
The giant nodded and replied, "My sister is a tailor."
"Don't look so nervous," Judeau said to both boys. "Smile. It's good for you." Harry saw Guts actually roll his eyes at the suggestion. It looked like he and Rickert weren't the only ones a bit uncomfortable; Guts looked as if he would rather be anywhere but here. Maybe it had something to do with his outfit, a fancy white doublet, and a blue overcoat. Or more likely than not, his inability to bring his sword with him.
But it came as no surprise for Harry that Griffith seemed completely at ease by the new surroundings. His clothing was tailored to match his piercing blue eyes and he wore his white hair tied behind him. He had only taken a few steps into the center of the hall before being swarmed by a flock of ladies.
"Lord Griffith, would you please share a dance with me later tonight?"
"Lord Griffith, what do you think of my pearl necklace?"
"Lord Griffith, would you please indulge us with stories from your battles?"
Harry had to give credit to him; Griffith was keeping an incredibly cool head under the assault of questions. "While my tales are numerous, it would be uncouth to talk about such things with the conflict over so soon out of respect for all those who have fallen."
Judeau shook his head. "Well, he knows how to please a crowd."
"Wow! He seems so at ease!" Rickert remarked.
"Damn! He could at least send a few our way." Corkus grumbled.
Corkus's wish came true sooner than expected as another flock of ladies made their way over the group of guys. "Are you a member of the Hawks?" "You must be so strong."
"Indeed I am!" Corkus capitalized. "In fact, I'm so strong I sometimes scare myself." However, Corkus' time to shine was cut short when the ladies noticed Guts and swarmed around him instead.
"You're the leader of the Hawk's Raiders, aren't you?"
"…Yeah."
"Is it true you defeated General Boscogn?" "I heard he was the strongest general from Chuder."
"…That's right."
"You must be so brave, would you share a dance with me tonight?"
"…Uh…"
Harry almost felt his jaw hit the floor. For the time that he had known Guts he had never once seen the man nervous, but now in a completely foreign setting, Guts seemed just as socially awkward as Harry felt.
"Maybe some other time," Guts declined the offer walking away from the crowd of ladies, much to their disappointment. "Why don't you talk to my companions? They're free." And like that Harry found himself being swarmed.
"Don't worry; we'll take care of them!" Corkus said to Guts as he struck up a conversation with two ladies.
"Sir, would you care for a dance tonight?" One of them asked Judeau.
"That's kind of you to offer, I'd be happy to accept," Judeau replied.
Three women took to admiring Pippin. "He's got such broad shoulders." "You must be so strong, Sir."
And then there were the ones taking to Harry and Rickert. "They're so adorable!" "They'll grow into little gentlemen, won't they?"
Harry looked over to Rickert and an unspoken conversation happened between them. 'What is even going on?'
'I don't know, Harry. But I'm kind of scared now.'
"Ladies," a new voice cut into the conversation. Walking towards them were two men, one with brown hair and a neatly kept beard, and the other a clean-shaven blonde man whom Harry recognized as Sir Owen.
"If you ladies were interested in a dance, I do believe Lord Wolflame is currently available," Sir Owen informed. Much to Harry's relief, the ladies stopped crowding him and the others in search of this "Lord Wolflame."
"Hey! I'm still available!" Corkus chased after them.
"Forgive our intrusion and allow me to introduce myself," the brunette gave them a polite bow of his head. "My name is Sir Laban, I believe you know Sir Owen from your first battle with the Blue Whale Knights."
"The pleasure is ours," Judeau politely greeted. "And thank you for that. I never knew court ladies to be quite so forward and persistent."
"This is exciting for them," Sir Owen said. "Meeting men who worked for their status is something of a rarity for them."
"They think of us like trophies then?" Harry wondered.
Sir Laban waved stroked at his fine kept beard. "An interesting analogy, but not incorrect. Try not to think less of them for it, most of them have been brought up at a young age with the knowledge that they would one day marry a high lord. To interact with men who are now hailed as heroes of Midland though, and one who worked for their status as well, it is a rarity for them. Perhaps they felt the need to let their hair down for a night."
"Their hair?" Rickert asked confused.
"It's a metaphor," Sir Owen informed. "But Sir Laban speaks truly; it's a break in their way of living, and one they seem to welcome. Just look at your own female companion." Sir Owen nodded to four men who were talking with a rather pretty girl with mocha skin and short black hair wearing a light red dress.
"Whoa, that's Casca!" Harry realized not recognizing her at first.
"And she's not wearing any pants," Rickert noted as well. Compared to her usual attire, a dress seemed the farthest thing from what she would want people to see her in.
"She certainly looks lovely," Judeau commented with a bit of red on his freckled cheeks.
"I've heard many men asking her for a dance," Sir Laban told them. "She's turned them all down."
"If she wishes for a dance with your leader, she best make haste," Sir Owen observed a new crowd of ladies swarm around Griffith. "Once the princess arrives, I doubt anyone else will have a chance to dance with him."
"You know the princess well?" Rickert asked.
The two knights shrugged. "We know her enough to know that she's very much like her mother. A kind girl with a faint heart, but with room to mature."
"Well said, Sir Owen," Laban agreed. "I look forward to the day that I can call Charlotte queen."
Guts hated the crowd. He hated the chatter that came from the crowd; he hated the clothes that he had to wear. It was stupid; all of it was. The war is over, understood, no need for a celebration like this. He leaned back against one of the pillars on the outskirts of the ballroom. Only a handful of people were over here and they were the ones who didn't want to be dragged out to dance, and he fit right in with them.
Guts spared a brief glance when the royal family made their entrance onto the floor. The band began with an elegant tune that was lost on him, and the king opened the dance with Princess Charlotte instead of his own wife.
After that dance concluded, the king shared one with his wife before excusing himself to watch the ball from a balcony overlooking the ballroom. This allowed Charlotte to share in a dance with Griffith. Others soon joined in and the floor was now alive with people dancing along to the tune of the band.
To Guts' left, a group of nobles was asking for the hand of a pretty woman in a light red dress that he didn't recognize. She shook her head twice and rushed over to where he was leaning on the pillar. She grabbed onto his arm and tried pulling him away.
"There you are, I've been looking for you."
Guts was confused and starting to get angry. Who did this woman think she- Casca?
There was no mistaking it; the one leading him away from his stoop was Casca. He hardly recognized her. In place of her helm, there was a flower, she wore heels instead of boots, and of course, the dress. It was so… jarring!
"Those men kept pestering me, and I didn't know what to do about it," Casca hurriedly began explaining. "I kept telling them, no, but more just kept showing up, looking at me like some kind of foreign animal. I figured if you'd pretend to be my partner, then they'd leave me alone."
Guts had no idea what to say to that. The sight of her actually in a dress was incomprehensible. She narrowed her eyes slightly. "You're staring."
"I didn't know that you liked to wear dres-!" Guts was unable to finish his sentence as Casca elbowed him below his jaw and he bit his tongue on accident.
"Don't patronize me," Casca averted her gaze to the nobles she had rejected previously. "And it's working. Just follow me."
"I don't dance," Guts said tasting a bit of blood in his mouth.
"Neither do I," Casca said as she instead let him away from the dance floor and out a set of doors to the outside balcony. She sat down on the railing and took off her heels. Guts sat on the railing itself wondering why she had dragged him out here. He wasn't exactly complaining, it was better than in there at least.
"It's such a change from what I usually wear, I know," she began. "Riding a horse and swinging a sword around is much more comfortable to me."
Guts nodded. "I know the feeling. I never thought I'd be wearing an adult bib," she chuckled, "or see 'Big Sis Casca' in a dress."
At that, she huffed indignantly. "Men's clothing is more practical." A silence fell between. "But, it is a bit silly. Wearing this I feel like a church bell. Be honest, it looks ridiculous, right?"
Honestly?
"No," Guts said. "You actually look nice."
It seemed that opposite of what she was expecting but brightened because of it. "Really? You're being honest?"
"Yeah," Guts told her. "You look better than those noble girls crowding around Griffith. You have more self-control and respect for yourself than any of them." Guts looked up at the half moon. It was getting chilly out with the changing of the seasons and snow would be falling soon, a complete change from the arid climate of Doldrey. But even with the seasons' change, it strangely didn't feel all that cold where the two of them sat.
"Thank you," Casca said.
"Why don't you ask Griffith to dance with you?" Guts wondered.
A sad smile had worked its way onto her face. "Oh no, like I said I don't dance either. I haven't since I was a little girl in my village; I'd end up stepping all over his feet. But I'm surprised you actually came to this. You hate these kinds of events."
"Well, I wanted to see this through to the end," Guts settled on. "Ever since I met you and Griffith three years ago it's been unlike any time I've spent with other mercenary groups. Thant's why I'm here, to see it through to the end."
She was looking at him, the gears in her mind already working to understand the meaning behind his words. "You want to leave. You want to leave the Hawks." The way she said it, he knew she wasn't asking. He remained silent, and perhaps that was all the answer she needed. Until he had that dream like Griffith, he could not call himself an equal.
"You can tell me, you know that," Casca said to him.
A loud round of applause erupted from inside the ballroom, no doubt the king was about to make a speech of some kind. "That sounds like our new sponsor," Guts guessed. "Why don't you head on inside, I'll catch up with you later, I'm not really in the mood to listen to a tedious speech."
"…If that's what you want," Casca reluctantly said as she put her heels back on and made to head back in.
"You know," Guts began, stopping her in her tracks with his words.
"Yes?"
"...Never mind," Guts decided against it. "Go on, try to have fun." She hesitated for a bit longer as if she wanted him to continue, but she headed back in after another silent pause.
There is another reason for me being at this party. She doesn't know, nobody else knows but Griffith. In a few minutes, it'll happen.
Harry thanked whatever god there was that when the king began his speech, all the dancing had stopped. Sirs Laban and Owen were friendly, but they seemed to be about the two most decent nobles in all Midland. He and Rickert eventually had to dance but had found girls roughly their own age.
Knowing basically nothing about dancing, Harry stepped on his partner's feet more than once, but she assured him it was fine. She was probably lying. Rickert had fared no better than he did, and the boys agreed to never dance again in their lives. That was just before the king began his speech.
"A little while ago, a Chuder diplomat entered Windham with a signed treaty of non-aggression. It has been a difficult war that has spanned generations, we've lost many friends and loved ones, but it necessary that we rebuild after this ordeal. I expect all of you to use your assets to continue the prosperity of my reign. As I'm sure all of you are well aware of, this armistice is largely in part to the contribution of The Band of the Hawk, and their leader, Count Griffith.
"They have succeeded where others have failed and showed great bravery and courage of unmatched magnitude. In two days time, a celebration will be held for them as they will bear the title of the White Phoenix Knights and will hold second in command of all of Midland's armies. I shall personally knight all within their band." Cheering erupted from the nobility. Was he going to be a knight? They had been the only toys he had from under the cupboard, and he was going to be one! He and Rickert exchanged a high-five.
Waiters poured out onto the floor serving wine to all who accepted. "Please sir, take one," a servant said to Griffith offering him a goblet.
"Ah, why thank you," Griffith accepted.
The king raised his own goblet. "And now, a toast to our young heroes and to the prosperity of all of Midland."
Cries of, "Here here!" broke out. Harry clinked his goblet with Rickert's and Pippin's. They all took a sip together. That was when it happened.
Krakk!
Griffith's goblet shattered against the floor, and his body fell soon after.
All talking had stopped. Everyone's eyes took in the sight of Griffith lying motionless on the floor. No, Harry's brain finally seemed to boot backup, just in time to hear Casca crying Griffith's name out.
The Queen's Manse
Everything had gone much more smoothly than expected, and Queen Mary couldn't be more thankful. Only an hour had passed since Griffith had died from the poisoning, ending the celebrations rather abruptly. Her stepdaughter, Princess Charlotte had fainted at the sight of Griffith's body and presenting her "husband" with the distraction needed to come here to her personal manse within the city of Windham with a few other noblemen as well as Minister Foss.
The short minister had made the necessary arrangements for the poison to be put in Griffith's drink; it was only fitting to invite him to this after party of sorts as a reward for his services.
"It was a complete success," Lord Wald congratulated the minister for his poison.
Foss seemed to the queen, nervous as he replied. "Oh, come now. It wasn't all me."
She waved his modesty aside. "You should feel proud, Minister Foss. Without you, this plot would never have succeeded."
Foss gave a small bow of his bald head. "You are too kind." Foss' hand grabbed his hat, squeezing it rather tightly.
"What is the matter?" She inquired. "You look positively ill, minister."
Hiccupping a response, "It must be the light. I tend to look rather sickly in candlelight." He was met with skeptical looks from all who were present.
Steering the conversation away from the minister, Lord Richmont asked, "But what of the waiter who served Griffith the wine? If he is to be captured he could confess our involvement."
"You need not worry," Foss assured him. "A few moments ago I received a report from an associate that the waiter has been dealt with."
A chuckle came from Lord Wald. "Is there anything you hadn't accounted for, minister?"
"You flatter me," Foss said as he rose from his seat in the private dining room. "But if you all will excuse me, I have to return to the castle soon. My presence is required to make a final inspection of the body."
The queen eyed Foss as he left the room, but then turned her attention back to the assembled group of lords. "At last the stability of Midland is all but secured."
"To think that a mere mercenary could become a leader of Midland's armies. Ridiculous!" Lord Wald exclaimed.
"Peasants and farmers should stick to what they know best."
"Any other country would have considered us a laughing stock."
She raised her hand to silence their laughing. "In any case, you all have toiled for our common goal. For that, I thank you."
"We are unworthy of your kindness," Lord Wald praised. "It is us who should be thanking you. Without your much-needed support, this would have been a sham."
He thanked her, and he should. For what she had set into motion the royal bloodline of Midland was now secure. Charlotte might not have been her daughter, but it was no secret that the young girl had feelings for the late Griffith. If the young Hawks career had been allowed to prosper for any longer, Mary might have found herself calling him as her son-in-law. Thankfully, that was never going to happen.
Now Charlotte would marry a lord of noble birth, preferably one of Mary's choosing, one who could be manipulated under her influence. Charlotte was too much a damsel to be a fit queen anyhow. What is that smell?
She need only to look down to see plumes of smoke drifting through the wooden floorboards, and she wasn't the only one to notice.
"What is with all this smoke?" Lord Wald questioned as he and Lord Herr tried to open the door.
"Ah!" One of them exclaimed. "The handle's all hot!"
Another tried to open it. "It's no use. It's locked from the other side!" with panic seeping in, two of the noblemen tried to forcibly knock the door down.
"Step aside!" Wald dragged a chair over and began to rapidity knock it against the door. He made far better progress than the others, and on his seventh swing managed to break the door. But there was no cause for celebration, for as soon as the door came down, a torrent of flame came rushing in, burning Lord Wald and three others.
"Fire!"
"How did this happen?!" She shouted as she raced to open the window. Jumping would be a lost cause as the room they were in was at least three stories high. And even if they managed to survive the fall, the fire was encircling the entire manse. They were trapped.
A gush of the cool wind blew the smoke away just enough for the queen to catch sight of a figure standing at the steps leading up to the manse. It was a slim young man with a head of long white hair. "It can't be…"
But it was. Taking a few steps closer, the White Hawk stared up at her defiantly.
"Griffith!" She shouted down. "How is this? You were dead!"
"And for all intensive purposes, I appeared to be," Griffith called up to her and the few remaining. "I arranged for it to be so."
"You what?!" She shrieked
"What I drank was not the poison you intended. Instead, it was a toxin that numbed my muscles for a time long enough for me to appear dead. But it was not just for show, it allowed me to trap you all at once." His voice was lacking any malicious tone, but somehow that seemed to make it all the more sinister. He had known all along what she had been planning.
"Hold your tongue you insolent degenerate!" She yelled down.
"I suppose this is what you were used to," Griffith calmly continued. "Sitting and scheming behind closed doors. But this is war. There is nowhere to sit on the battlefield."
The flames danced their way closer to her and the two other nobles who were trapped. Licking at the hem of their clothing, the warmth and dread quickened. And as the heat raged on in the room, so too did the fury inside of her. "Griffith, you impudent swine! Do you actually intend to kill me, the queen? Do you believe a boy of common blood could burn me, the Queen of Midland to death?!"
Griffith crossed his arms, the only indication that he was losing his patience. "Death on the battlefield comes for everyone, regardless of class. The loser must die."
The flames had reached the beam support in the ceiling. The wood gave out and fell. "Aaaaaaghhh!" A final scream from the queen as the structure of her world caved around her as it went up in flames.
Walking down the steps of the manse, Griffith stopped to address Minister Foss who, at this point was wringing his hands as if to wash away the deed of lighting the fire, to begin with. "Are you unwell, minister? Are these ploys not uncommon in the court?"
Foss swallowed his own saliva before replying. "Elize? Is she safe?" Griffith snapped his fingers and a trio of hired thugs came escorting a young girl with them.
"Father!" The girl yelled as she ran into Foss' arms.
"I thank you for your cooperation, Minister Foss," Griffith said. He then fished out a coin purse and handed it to one of the thugs. "As a reward for keeping the girl safe from all of this." Of course, it was also the money for her kidnapping, to begin with as well.
The leader eagerly accepted the money. "Pleasure doing business with ya. If ya ever need any more dirty deeds done, yeh know where to find us." He flashed a toothless smile.
"I'll keep that in mind," Griffith said, not meaning to ever take them up on their offer. The thugs took their leave, and Griffith followed soon after, but not before casting a last glance back at Foss and his reunited daughter. He would keep quiet about this event, if not… now he at least he knew the price for that.
The sound of the coin purse jingling was how he was able to track the thugs down. But even then they talked much too loud for their own good. They openly boasted of how much money they carried and if Griffith ever decided not to hire them again then they would blackmail him with this.
But the thing was, they wouldn't.
Choosing to reveal himself, Guts stepped out of his hiding place. He had abandoned his horrendous party getup in favor of a breastplate and a dark cloak, and of course, his sword. He had to visit Godo again for a new one after Doldrey, and this one handled just as well as the former.
One swing was all it took for the once trio to be cut into six. And with that, all loose ends were tied in a neat bow.
He met up with Griffith in a secluded location down a back alley in the lower district of Windham. "It's finished?"
"Finished," Guts confirmed. "But what about that minister? Is it safe to let him go?"
"Maybe," Griffith answered. He didn't sound too worried about it.
"Maybe?" Guts parroted.
"Relax," Griffith smiled at him. "I believe he's learned his lesson after this. And if not, I'll take care of it."
Guts looked to where the smoke now touched the sky. "Caused quite the uproar. All those nobles and the queen… Who'd have thought a dead man was pulling the strings."
"Guts…" Griffith began. "Do you think me a dreadful man?"
"Huh?"
"I've hardly dirtied my hands tonight, and left the killing of those men to you," Griffith elaborated. "Out of everyone in the Hawks, I told only you of this plan of mine when they would be more than willing to help. Do you not resent me?"
Was he really asking that? Guts knew that despite the image that Griffith put up, he was no saint. Neither was he. At his very core, Griffith was a man driven by ambition, a raging fire that made the fire that killed the queen pale in comparison. He had that dream in mind.
"You do realize you're asking that question to the guy who killed a hundred men, right?" Guts asked. "Not really much of a point to it. That's what I do, swing my sword. This was to reach your dream, right? You haven't lost sight of it have you?"
After a brief pause, Griffith let out a small sigh of relief at Guts' opinion and chuckled. "Thank you." Guts clapped him on the back.
"Now why don't we head back? A dead man like you shouldn't be spending all night out here. You've probably kept everyone worried too long."
Griffith Hmmd. "I suppose you're right."
"You know," Guts said, "I don't think you noticed, but Casca put on a dress."
Griffith looked shocked. "Did she?"
"Yeah," Guts said. "She actually looked nice." Griffith smiled s the two of them set back to meet with all the others who would no doubt be shocked to see Griffith alive.
A/N: That's it for this chapter. It took a bit longer to write because I had a paper due for my one college class, but hopefully it'll still be on par with the rest. Thank you for reading.