Chapter 18: The Ancient Evil Survives
"Lovely day we are having." Yurius greeted their peers as he stepped up from his chair.
"Good morning." Lorenz commented. "We are within reach of the Great Bridge of Myrddin."
Yurius nodded as Lorenz paused. "We were also able to secure the services of two additional carriages."
"That is good news." Yurius said as he glanced over at his partner. "Are you saying we now have our own carriage?"
"That's correct." Lorenz replied. "Maya will be in the carriage with Ignatz and Evi, if you don't mind your companion riding with them."
"That's fine." Mortis said firmly. "And I presume you'll ride out with Leonie?"
Lorenz shook his head. "No need. The road to Myrddin is well guarded. I will go with Leonie to watch her over the course of her hangover."
Mortis and Yurius exchanged a glance before the latter nodded. "Very well then."
"Once we get to Myrddin, I can see to try to repay the debt we owe you."
Mortis nodded. "We will be together until at least Garreg Mach, but that act would be appreciated."
"Can you be ready to leave in an hour?" Lorenz asked carefully.
"We can leave right now, should you choose." Mortis replied.
Lorenz nodded. "We'll move out as soon as possible."
Byleth winced as the carriage bumped along the road, the reinforced wheels making a great racket as they fought with the rough stones below.
"This was a bad idea then?" Dorothea asked weakly next to him.
"Yes." Byleth said grimly. "This was a bad idea. The road here will probably put us hours behind."
"I'm glad I wasn't the only one to think that." Monica said.
"Morganite Ravine." Byleth muttered. "I thought that the morganite here would have allowed for decent enough roads."
"I agree." Dorothea said as she looked out the window. "I thought the morganite would have allowed for better roads."
"There are better roads." Monica said halfheartedly.
"Where?" Dorothea asked.
"Erm. Ah. Right." Monica backpedaled, seemingly realizing that she had said something out of line. "Hawthorne would be annoyed if his roads were compromised, so please don't ask me."
"Where?" Byleth and Dorothea both asked.
"Nevermind." Monica said as she looked away. "I shouldn't tell."
A moment passed in the carriage before Monica broke.
"Alright. Fine." Monica said, holding her hands up in surrender. "There's a smuggler route that cuts through the mountains here."
"Why wasn't this mentioned?" Dorothea asked.
"Hubert vetoed the idea." Byleth replied. "Said the roads lead to a dead end."
"Ah." Dorothea said, pausing before she turned to Monica. "Why does Hawthorne need a properly maintained road that leads to a dead end?"
Monica shut up, her eyes darting around the carriage.
"Monica." Dorothea said in a sweet tone that even made Byleth flinch. "Tell us what Hawthorne needs that road for or I'll tell them about your boyfriend."
Monica's eyes widened as her jaw fell. "You promised that you wouldn't tell!"
"This is important." Dorothea said firmly. "Now tell me."
Monica swallowed. "There's an old mine somewhere at the end of that road he hid things in."
Byleth frowned. "What sort of things?"
Monica shook her head. "I was only there once, I don't remember."
"We can make a guess." Dorothea said, smiling sweetly at Monica.
"Really?" Bernadetta asked.
"I don't-" Byleth started.
"I remember now." Monica blurted out, her bluff called.
"What was it?" Dorothea asked, a thin smile on her lips.
"The shipment I saw consisted of paintings. Probably stolen from a noble house that was purged."
Dorothea gave the woman a strange look. "Why would Hawthorne go through so much trouble over a few paintings?"
"Artwork can be valuable." Byleth pointed out. "Hawthorne is clearly a very rich man."
Dorothea nodded. "Monica, do you know if he hides anything else in those mines?"
Monica shook her head, this time honest defeat in her eyes. "I was only there once."
Dorothea nodded as she leaned back into her chair. "I wonder what Edie and Hubie are doing?"
"I know you." Sylvain spoke as his eyes focused on the hard looking man standing before him.
"Do you now?" The man asked. "I'm Douglas. I act as Ashe's second in command."
Sylvain paused as the man handed something to him.
"What is this?" He asked weakly.
"Just tea." The man said as Sylvain eased himself up onto the bed.
Sylvain took a small sip of the simple blend. "It's well brewed."
Douglas nodded. "Is there anything you want to eat?"
"Smoked meat." Sylvain laughed.
Douglas cracked a faint smile before he turned around. "We don't have any in camp."
"I know." Sylvain said. "I just like the stuff."
"I know." Douglas replied. "I've been told about your tastes."
"And who told you that?" Sylvain asked.
"Apart from working for Ashe, do you know me from anywhere else?" Douglas asked as he took back his canteen, their eyes meeting carefully.
Sylvain blinked at the question. "No. I er- wait, where's my lance?"
"The Lance of Ruin is under your bed." Douglas said. "Nobody has touched it since it fell there."
"Yeah, I'm glad people know not to touch it." Sylvain said. "Nobody wants to become Miklan."
It was when the name of his brother left his lips than Sylvain looked up, suddenly wary of the man beside him.
"Oh." Douglas said, his face unconcerned. "You remembered."
"You were part of Miklan's warband." Sylvain stated, watching Douglas with narrowed eyes.
"Correct." Douglas said. "Good memory. It's been over five years now."
"Why are you here?" Sylvain asked, inching closer to the edge of the bed.
"Ashe wanted me to guard you."
"Why you?" Sylvain asked, his voice hard.
"Because Ashe trusts me to do my work here."
"Does he know what you did before?" Sylvain asked.
"Of course." Douglas replied. "He personally recruited me after all."
Sylvain swallowed. "I want a replacement."
Douglas shrugged. "Of course. That can be arraigned. Will that be all?"
Sylvain paused before he closed his eyes as Douglas watched him.
"I want to know about Miklan." Sylvain admitted, looking at the former bandit next to him.
"What is there to talk about?" Douglas asked. "We found his funeral pyre after the battle."
"What was he like?" Sylvain asked. "When he was your leader?"
"He was a good boss." Douglas replied. "The best I had before joining the Imperial Army."
Sylvain paused at the words, letting out a slow breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Granted, he had his darkness like everyone else." Douglas admitted after a long moment.
"What did he do?"
"He once threw a challenger to his death out of a window. Enjoyed it too."
Sylvain raised an eyebrow. "And you said he was a good boss?"
"He kept us fed. Gave us a purpose in life for once. He would have been a good Ashen Wolf." Douglas scoffed. "Even now, I think of his as an intelligent leader."
Sylvain scoffed. "Father practically disowned him the moment he found that I had a crest."
"I know." Douglas replied. "He'd fantasise for hours about how he would kill your father if he ever got his hands on him."
Sylvain swallowed. "He did that?"
"A lot of threats. The only really constant one was flaying. Breaking fingers one by one was also a fairly common threat."
Sylvain held a hand up for the man to stop.
"We all have our darkness." Douglas said as he noticed the other man's hands. "Miklan simply hated your father and you more than anything else in the world."
"He changed." Sylvain said quietly. "After-"
"Glenn." Douglas finished. "I know that too. To watch his father cry over the son of a stranger while his own flesh and blood was being neglected made him snap."
"He told you about that?" Sylvain asked, his eyes narrowed.
"He mentioned it in passing one day. I simply never forgot those words." Douglas replied.
"What's my darkness then?" Sylvain asked.
"I don't know. I haven't been around you enough to know." Douglas replied.
"What about Ashe then?" Sylvain asked. "You being his second in command and all."
"When it comes to Ashe, it boils down to Christopher and Lonato."
Sylvain swallowed. "I heard that he watched Catherine kill Lonato from the professor."
Douglas shrugged. "I've seen some things that I'm not going to discuss, but yes, he did watch Catherine strike down Lonato."
"Why aren't you going to tell me?" Sylvain asked, turning his gaze to the other man again.
"Because it's not my place to judge him or to talk about his problems. That particular demon remains his and his alone to face."
"And I appreciate that." Ashe said, causing Douglas spun around.
Ashe, Felix, and Ingrid were behind him.
"Can we go now?" Felix asked. "The idiot is right there. He's fine."
"What was it about Miklan and Glenn?" Ingrid asked as she stormed toward Douglas, the man taking a quick step back into the tent.
"Ingrid, please." Ashe pleaded. "Could this wait? We need to have you seen by a doctor."
"What was it about Glenn and Miklan?" Ingrid asked again.
Douglas exchanged a glance with Ashe, who nodded his approval.
"Miklan was furious that Lord Gautier cared more for the dead son of a stranger rather than him." Douglas explained. "It caused him to start to try to kill Sylvain."
"Sounds like Miklan." Felix said. "Always angry about these things."
"Was he friends with your brother?" Douglas asked.
Felix scoffed. "A training partner, nothing more."
"I saw him floor Glenn once." Ingrid admitted after a moment of silence. "I had snuck into the training grounds to watch."
"Miklan was a dirty fighter from the very beginning." Felix said as he crossed his arms. "But yes, just a training partner, nothing more. Glenn respected him though. Said that he was being wasted just for not having a Crest."
"Surprised he never served with the Ashen Wolves though." Ashe said finally. "He sounds like he would fit right in."
"We didn't know the Wolves existed until Conand Tower." Douglas admitted after a minute. "Not until they showed up on our doorstep."
"What are you doing?" A furious voice behind them snapped. "There's a patient that needs looking after!"
"I'm fine!" Sylvain shouted. "I'm perfectly fine!"
"Not until I say so!" The woman shouted back.
"A friend of ours needs a check up." Felix said quickly.
"And who is that?" The tiny healer growled.
"I'm fine." Ingrid protested. "I had my wounds bandaged already."
"Oh." The healer said. "You were the one snatched by that dragon."
"I'm fine." Ingrid repeated again, glaring as the healer pushed away Ashe and Felix.
"I get to make that call." The woman said firmly. "Now sit down on that bed."
Ingrid made a move to storm out of the tent, but froze under the glare of the woman.
"Now, you three. Scam." The woman said as she turned to the three men standing at the entrance to the tent.
"Right." Ashe said as he hurried away. "We'll be at the main command tent if anyone needs us."
Ingrid tried to voice a protest before she felt a hand on her shoulder, forcing her in place.
"General Galatea." The doctor said in a sickly sweet voice. "Why don't you sit down?"
Mortis waited until the trip was underway before she turned and cracked open the trunk that held the antique radio set.
"Spite's probably worried sick." Yurius observed.
"He's not that kind of person." Mortis replied as she turned the machine on, placing the headset over her ears.
"You just told me yesterday he cares about you."
"I'm not Kronya. He doesn't care about me that much." Mortis said with a roll of her eyes. "He's not going to lose sleep if we went a few days without contact."
"Mortis?" Spite's voice asked through the headset.
"Can you hear me?" Mortis asked as Yurius fell silent.
"I can." The overlord of Shambhala replied. "I apologize for being out of contact."
"What happened?" Mortis asked.
"A group of deserters managed to escape Shambhala. I had to personally hunt them down."
"Alright. Deserters." Mortis said. "Glad to hear that it's dealt with."
"Have you managed to get back onto the road?" Spite asked.
"We're about a half day away from Myrddin." Mortis replied. "We managed to find another group that's travelling to Garreg Mach."
"Very good." Spite said, his tone impressed. "Who are you travelling with?"
Mortis paused. "We are travelling with three members of the Black Eagle Strike Force."
"Which ones?" Spite asked, concern in his voice. "The members of that task force range from immensely dangerous to close to harmless."
"Ignatz Victor."
"Useless worm." Spite muttered. "Our files had him marked for an early grave, but he's not a threat by any stretch of the imagination even if he did survive the war."
"Leonie Pinelli."
"A hack job mercenary." Spite said with a dismissive laugh. "And the last one?"
"Lorenz Hellman Gloucester."
Spite snorted. "Useless twit. Our intelligence indicates that he was recruited for political purposes alone. His father is supposed to be of great influence in the Alliance."
"So nothing of interest to you then." Mortis said.
"No." Spite replied. "Unless they happen to be very close to the Emperor, the Fell Star, or Hubert von Vesta, they should not prove to be any trouble to your operation. And from our intelligence, they aren't particularly close to that particular trifecta."
"They'll inevitably make a report to their superiors." Mortis argued.
"They will. Which is why I suggest that you be out of reach for the rest of their strike force when they make that report." Spite said. "In the event you require the services of Shangri-la, you should outrank Patricia regardless. Your Athame alone will ensure that."
"Are there any other figures I should be aware of?" Mortis asked.
"Just the standard number." Spite said in a bored tone. "Ashen Wolves, Nabateans, Lysithea von Ordelia."
"Who is the last one?" Mortis asked. "Name seems vaguely familiar."
"The survivor of the Ordelia incident." Spite explained. "Our intelligence suggests that she was present at Garreg Mach during the year of the Flame Emperor."
Mortis nodded as she turned to Yurius. "You want to say anything?"
Yurius paused before he pulled on the headset. "Spite?"
"Hello Yurius." Spite replied evenly. "I trust that you have been well?"
"Did you catch the guy who killed Ryan?"
Spite paused at the question. "No. I've caught one person involved with it, but the rest of them have yet to make a move."
"I see." Yurius said as he glanced at his partner. "May I ask a stupid question?"
"You have my attention." Spite replied, amusement evident in his voice.
"If I run into, well-"
"Monica von Ochs?" Spite asked calmly, the amusement in his voice dead.
"I understand." Yurius said quietly.
"If she is willing to serve Shambhala, then she will become a useful asset in the future." Spite explained. "That being said, she's also a very dangerous asset, particularly if she has been in contact with the Black Eagle Strike Force since Operation Dancer."
Yurius nodded. "That's all I wanted to know."
"Very well then." Spite said. "Ask Mortis if she has anything else to say."
Yurius glanced at the form of his partner, now visibly nervous.
"Mortis, are you alright?" Yurius asked.
Mortis glanced back at Yurius before she shook her head, though he could see something flicker in her eyes.
"Are either of you two ill?" Spite asked.
A question flickered through the head of Yurius, and he took a moment to compose his thoughts.
"Was Pinelli present for the final act of Operation Dancer?"
"Pardon?" Spite asked as Mortis gave Yurius a murderous glance, her hands clenched tightly into fists.
"Leonie Pinelli." Yurius repeated. "Was she present for the final stage of Operation Dancer?"
Spite paused at the question, perhaps surprised at the blunt nature of the question.
"Yes." The overlord of Shambhala finally said. "Our archives indicate that she had been transferred into the class taught by the Fell Star shortly before the final battle of the infiltration campaign."
Mortis glared at Yurius again before she gestured for control of the headset.
"Spite?" Mortis asked softly into the headset.
"You sound like you have something you want to get off your chest." Spite observed. "You have a tendency to dance around the question when you are uncomfortable with something,"
"I do." Mortis confessed, the pressure building in her chest growing heavier.
"Does this have anything to do with that damnable mercenary?" Spite asked.
"She said-no,she claimed that she was there when Kronya was killed." Mortis said, quietly waiting for Spite to speak.
"And your point is?" Spite asked, his voice neutral as he spoke. "Unless she personally claimed the kill, I have nothing against her. She will die as an enemy of Shambhala. Nothing more, nothing less."
"I understand." Mortis said finally. "That is all I have to say."
"Very well then." Spite said. "I'll leave you to your work. Good hunting."
Mortis glared at Yurius as she placed the precious headset down.
"Why were you asking him about Pinelli?" Mortis asked as she undid the machine, returning it to their trunk.
"I want to know if the story was real or not." Yurius protested.
"Where would a mindless savage like that find the name of Zahras?" Mortis scoffed.
"Do you believe her?"
"Yes." Mortis said in turn. "I wish I didn't, but I believe what she said. Solon killed Kronya to open a gate into Zahras."
"Damn." Yurius muttered as their carriage turned a corner, slowing to a crawl.
"Odd." Mortis observed as she leaned back into her seat.
"What happened?" Yurius asked.
"We are stopping."
The door to the carriage swung open as Ignatz popped through the door.
"Something wrong?" Yurius asked.
"Leonie is sick at the moment." Ignatz explained sheepishly. "She's vomiting into the river as we speak."
Yurius and Mortis both grimaced at the words.
"Guess we wait then." Mortis said as she leaned back into her seat. "Just our luck it seems."
"This site will do." Thales announced as he paused in the middle of a large room.
"Where are we?" Chilon asked, his eyes darting about in the darkness.
"This was once a military outpost that stood in between Old Agartha and Shangri-la." Myson replied.
"Correct." Thales said. "Very good."
"Why are we here?" Chilon asked.
"Two birds with one stone." Thales replied as he reached into the folds of his cloak.
"What is that?" Chilon asked as he saw the horn within the hand of Thales.
"A gift from the previous Periander, made many decades ago." Thales explained, examining the simple tool.
"Spite?" Myson asked.
"His predecessor." Thales replied, examining the tool carefully. "A relic made for the dead of Zaharas."
"What does it do?" Myson asked, his eyes watching the small horn with suspicion.
Thales smiled, a thin, lifeless line against his skin.
Then the horn sounded.
"I apologize for my actions last night." Hubert said, finally breaking the silence in the carriage.
"There is no need for that." Edelgard said. "I should apologize for startling you."
Hubert swallowed. "Yes, let's move on from that incident."
"Hubert?" Edelgard asked after a moment.
"Yes Lady Edelgard?" Hubert asked.
"I have my troubles."
"I will always listen." Hubert replied quickly, stopping as Edelgard raised a hand.
"I feel guilt." Edelgard said.
Hubert swallowed. "I-"
"I've never told you this, but I met your associate Mortis once after that last meeting."
"What?" Hubert asked, his face stunned.
"It was with Jeritza present in the dungeons." Edelgard explained. "The handover of Kronya to the care of Jeritza."
"But I was present there-" Hubert replied, his face stunned at the words.
"She didn't say anything, but she warned me to watch over Kronya."
"She was the guard along with Thales?" Hubert asked.
"The smaller one." Edelgard replied. "The one who handed me the Flame Emperor's cloak back.
Hubert frowned. "She hid a letter in there?"
"It was a simple note, not a full letter." Edelgard replied. "It was hidden in between two layers of cloth. It fell out when I took it off after the handover."
"What did it say?" Hubert asked, his visible eye narrowing.
"Watch over Kronya." Edelgard replied. "Just those three words."
"Watch over Kronya." Hubert said. "Why?"
"I don't know." Edelgard said quietly, her eyes facing downward.
"Wait." Hubert said quietly, his eyes turning to Edelgard, having connected the dots. "You blame yourself for Jeralt's death?"
"Even if I hadn't been warned, I hated that the Professor's father had been murdered on my watch." Edelgard admitted. "And yet I had been warned well ahead of time."
Hubert grimaced, his lips tight. "I must remind you that none of us ever knew that Solon would betray us like that. It was, and will never be, your fault."
"And yet I feel a great guilt." Edelgard said. "To have a hand in killing Jeralt Eisner. To be… manipulated like a puppet on a string."
"How long has this gone on?" Hubert asked, his face turning to rare concern.
"I had a nightmare the day when we were supposed to leave Enbarr."
Hubert didn't reply, but his attention was rapt.
"The Professor accused me of killing his father in the dream."
Hubert grimaced at the words.
"It was just a dream." Hubert offered finally.
"And whenever I think of the night under the stars I spent with the Professor, in a place where I saw my mother after escaping Enbarr, I feel-"
Hubert looked away, his lips drawn in a thin line.
"Guilt." Hubert said finally, the word silencing the carriage once more.
"Guilt that I took his father away from him. Guilt that I chose to deceive him for so long."
"You didn't kill Jeralt Eisner.." Hubert replied instantly. "Kronya and Solon did. And Thales planned it all. And that's why we'll kill him."
"And yet I was warned well ahead of time to watch Kronya." Edelgard said. "And when she cut down Jeralt, all I could do was stand frozen."
Hubert sat silently for a long minute. "What do you intend to do?"
"I will avenge Jeralt." Edelgard admitted finally. "For all the victims in this war, I will bring down Shambhala. And maybe then…"
Hubert nodded as he looked out of the window. "And we will walk that path with you. Our oath hasn't ended yet."
"General Ubert?" The young woman before him asked.
Ashe turned quickly, Douglas and Felix also stopping to watch the young woman.
"Yes?" Ashe asked, glancing around the camp.
"I would like to thank you." The woman said quietly.
Ashe paused as he turned to look at the young woman. "Why?"
"You avenged my mother."
Ashe pressed his lips together as he crouched down to face the girl at an equal height. "I don't understand."
"My mother was at the central hospital when that witch burned it down."
"Witch?" Felix asked, his face confused.
"Catherine." Douglas spat with barely hidden contempt in his voice.
"I-" Ashe started, his face gaunt.
"We watched you." The girl continued. "Thank you."
"We?" Douglas asked, his voice betraying a note of panic, suddenly wary of the crowd around them.
"We watched from a distance, but we saw you take her head."
"Hold on, what are you going on about?" Felix asked, his gaze turning from the three before him.
"We're going." Douglas said quickly, grabbing Ashe by the collar, pulling the younger man to his feet as he barrelled through the crowd.
The crowd around them had grown, even as Ashe hastily rose to his feet.
"It's the avenger." One man whispered.
"I didn't see him that night, but he's awfully young." A second voice opinionated.
"Wasn't he the son of Lonato?" A third voice asked out loud.
"Does it matter? He avenged the soul of Fhirdiad!"
Douglas swore as he seized the arm of his lord, dragging him through the crowd, Felix following, his face bewildered by the scene.
But the cheers following them continued, the crowd rapidly swelling in size even as the trio hurried away from the crowd.
"Avenger!"
"Vengeance Incarnate!"
"Thunderbreaker!"
The first of the dead to reach the chamber made Myson wish he had avoided eating anything.
Leering wisps charged the chamber, answering the unmistakable call of the horn, their incorporeal bodies twisting and flickering in ways that were simply inhuman.
Despite the swarming spirits charging them, Thales stood firm, his face impassive as a thousand faceless ghosts swirled about him.
"I think I'm going to be sick." Chilon muttered as the ghosts assailed their position, the two lesser members of the Septet watching their leader nervously.
"Silence." Thales barked.
Then as one, the ghostly spirits fell silent, as if the presence of Thales had somehow commanded their collective attention.
Then Myson saw the ghosts properly for the first time, and promptly staggered back.
The ghosts lacked faces, most consisting of nothing more than thin, translucent smoke.
"Cato. Son of Shambhala." Thales barked. "I have need of your services once more."
The ghostly tide shifted as a single face leered through.
"Thales!" A voice shouted.
Slowly, Thales turned to the spirit that had spoken, followed by Myson and Chilon.
The lifeless form of Kronya had fought through the crowd, the young woman still holding shape despite a gaping hole in her chest.
Thales replied with a vicious blast of magic, the explosion throwing the ghost back, obliterating three faceless ghosts in the process.
But yet Kronya still returned, though her form had flickered from the attack.
"My lord?" A voice asked from the other end of the room.
"Solon." Thales said calmly. "Good. I have need of you once more."
The ghostly form of Solon was flickering in contrast to the almost lifelike form of Kronya, and much had been lost.
"I see you have come to terms with your death." Thales observed.
"I-" Solon said weakly. "I had few regrets left."
"In our victory, those will be corrected. Come join us in service."
"I will." Solon replied quietly, the ghostly figure taking knee.
"Aranea." Thales called. "I will need your strength in the new world ahead."
"Sister!" The shifting form of Kronya shrieked. "Tell him!"
But the ghostly form of Aranea parted the undead crowd with grace rather than force, the gremory merely taking knee before Thales, the woman unwilling to even look upon her superior.
"Kronya." Thales said in a voice Myson had never heard before. "I will only tell you this once."
"What is it?" Kronya asked, her ghostly face suddenly hopeful.
"You have served your place in our history books." Thales promised sweetly, his voice soft as he smiled at Kronya. "Your services are no longer needed by Shambhala."
"No!" Kronya shouted. "I will bring that Byleth down! I will take his head from his shoulders and bring it to you!"
"No." Thales said as he turned his gaze away. "You have already outlived your usefulness."
"But I-" Kronya whispered, her face breaking as her form began to shimmer.
"Begone, those whom I have not called." Thales ordered as the legions of faceless ghosts seemed to shrink away, their bodies slipping into the darkness away from the chamber.
"I-" Kronya began, her face faltering as her form flickered and faded, claimed by the legions of the dead.
Thales did not say another word, but smiled as the crowd of ghosts returned to elsewhere in the forbidden realm of Zahras.
"Now that the chaff is separated from the wheat, let us commence." Thales said as he turned from the two remaining revenants, his stride steady until he reached the three condemned prisoners.
"How do you think life is there?" Yurius asked his partner as he approached her from behind.
"Life where?" Mortis asked.
"How do you think life is for those kids across the river?"
Mortis glanced up, her eyes watching two boys.
"I wouldn't drink the water from the river without at least boiling it." Mortis observed finally, one of the boys glancing back at their position across the river.
"Just because of them?" Yurius asked.
"Leonie too." Mortis replied. "Disgusting excuse of a sentient being, even by the standards of savages."
"What did you think of von Vestra?" Yurius asked.
Mortis turned her gaze away from the two boys across the river before she continued, her face complenative.
"He's a lot like Spite."
"Really?" Yurius asked.
"He's very devoted to his little Edelgard." Mortis said. "Tried to keep her out of the loop whenever we spoke."
"Really?" Yurius asked. "How does that relate to Spite then?"
"Kronya didn't know much about the world outside Shambhala." Mortis replied. "Spite kept a great deal of information away from her."
"Why?"
"You want to ask me why Spite didn't want to mention his blood feud with his direct superior to his loose cannon of a sister?"
"Alright, fine. You have a point." Yurius conceded.
"I think when he first met Hubert, he saw a lot of the same things that he saw in the mirror."
"What does Hubert have to do with anything?" Ignatz asked.
"Ignatz." Mortis greeted.
"You told you that you met Hubert before." Ignatz said.
"We did." Mortis confirmed. "Our direct superior did too."
"That's interesting." Ignatz replied. "When was this?"
Mortis shook her head. "I know that they met, but not exactly when."
"So your boss likes Hubert then?" Ignatz asked.
"A great deal." Mortis replied, watching the other man carefully. "He found his dedication admirable."
"Are we ready?" Lorenz asked weakly as he hurried over.
"Is Leonie feeling better now?" Yurius asked.
Lorenz nodded. "I'll have to watch her to make sure she doesn't drink all of our money away, but she should be in good enough shape that she makes it to Myrddin safely."
"Alright then." Mortis said. "Are what few coins I have left safe?"
The other three cracked weak smiles at the joke before Ignatz nodded. "I'm sure she can't drink her way through the entire treasury."
"I see that you are done with him." Spite said as he approached two bored looking soldiers standing before the broken forms of the two traitors, both condemned missing both pieces of flesh as well as limbs.
"What do you think boss?" The man on the left asked excitedly.
"The fact that they are still alive and capable of suffering is enough for me." Spite replied. "Summon forth the rest of Shambhala. I want them to see this."
"Even the guards on the outposts?" The man on the right asked.
Spite paused. "Very good point. But I trust there will be no shortage of witnesses willing to tell their friends the fate of these traitors."
The men nodded. "Shall we go now?"
"If you wish." Spite replied. "There is still time before the punishment will be enacted."
The men paused before leaving their overlord behind.
"Now." Spite said quietly as he ran his finger upon the broken form of the mage. "How shall I punish your treasonous little friends?"
The bound man failed to react apart from a slight flinch.
But the half dozen ambushers behind Spite took a long moment to lock the door to the rest of the base.
"Seteth?" The voice of Annette asked as the green haired man sat quietly in the library, his fingers flipping through a thick tome.
Seteth looked up, his eyes watching both Annette and Marianne as he closed the old tome.
"Hello there, Annette, Marianne."
Annette swallowed as she approached the older man. "Is it alright if we sit?"
"Please do." Seteth replied, gesturing to two other seats at the table.
Annette glanced at Marianne before she took her seat, her hands clasped tightly before her.
"Was there something that you wished to ask me?" Seteth asked as he watched the two sitting before him.
The sight of both Marianne and Annette flinching confirmed the truth to him.
"Very well then." Seteth said. "Feel free to ask."
Annette exchanged another glance with Marianne before she started. "How was my father during the war?"
Seteth clasped his hands on the desk as he watched Annette carefully. "Your father was very devoted to the church during the war."
Annette paused. "And what of my mother? My uncle?"
"I only spoke to your uncle only a single time over the war." Seteth admitted. "He mentioned that your mother was in good health, but he had little else to say about the topic."
Annette closed her eyes as she nodded. "Did my father ever speak of me?"
Seteth shook his head. "I saw him very infrequently, for he spent much of his time alongside Dimitri and Rhea. I spent a great deal of time working alongside Dedue and to a lesser extent, Duke Rodrigue."
Annette fell silent.
"Even now I question just how much I may have revealed to the enemy over the war." Seteth admitted a second later.
"What do you mean?" Annette asked.
"Lady Cornelia sent an underling to Fhirdiad on occasion to discuss the war." Seteth explained. "A Dark Knight by the name of Mortis. An equerry."
"Who was he?" Annette asked.
"She." Seteth corrected. "Even as I look back on the meetings, I feel a sense of dread. How she always seemed to watch me from a distance, how even Rodrigue nor the records of Fhirdiad seemed to never have even a mention for her."
"You believe she was a-" Annette started.
"An Agarthan, yes." Seteth said. "A descendent of those who almost destroyed us in the past."
The table fell into silence a moment later as Seteth looked at Annette again. "I'm sorry if I could not provide any other help with your inquiry."
Annette nodded before she turned to the other woman at the table. "Thank you. Marianne, didn't you have something to ask him?"
"Oh!" Marianne exclaimed in surprise. "Sorry, yes. I did."
Seteth turned his head to face the blue haired woman. "Please ask. I will assist in whatever way possible."
"Seteth, do you know about my Crest?" Marianne asked.
"The unknown Crest?" Seteth asked.
Marianne swallowed before she held up a hand, her Crest flickering to life before her.
"Maurice."
"Watch carefully." Chilon whispered to Myson as Thales reached the first of the condemned, the dim fire of Zaharas flickering as Thales paused.
Then reached into the man's chest, dark magic around the first finger of Thales tearing easily through the unfortunate victim, the man screaming in pain as a second finger followed the first.
"Is my brother well?" The flickering ghost of Aranea asked, watching the prisoner die with seemingly halfhearted interest.
"We aren't sure." Myson replied, glancing at Chilon for support. "Our radio back to Shambhala faltered shortly after we sent a message to destroy Arianrhod."
"What happened?" Aranea asked.
Chilon and Myson glanced at one another before turning to the distracted form of Thales, now having claimed his grisly prize from his victim.
The man still lived however, gasping feebly as his legs kicked the air.
"Poor bastard." Chilon muttered.
"He'll be out of his misery soon." Aranea replied.
"I hope so." Myson whispered, his face pale.
"Now, old servant." Thales commanded. "Rise and serve your people once more."
Even Chilon took a staggered step back as the heart torn from the dying victim slowly rose from the iron grip of Thales, whispers of dark flame hungrily revolving the stone as drops of blood from the dying man rushed forward, ever more crimson and black orbiting the black heart, now beginning to beat as magic and blood was fed to it.
And then the spirit of Solon, once Cato, was dragged into the ritual, the fading ghost becoming a third thread around the pulsating heart.
"Watch carefully Myson." Thales barked. "This is the power of Old Agartha!"
And then the chanting began, the thundering voice of Thales echoing from the walls of the chamber as the heart began to spin, rivers of blood, arcs of magic, and threads of spirit increasingly mummifying the black heart of the original victim.
Even though a part of him screamed in horror at the unholy scene before him, another part of Myson understood.
The words spoken were the tongue of Old Agartha, a language only a handful of the Septet spoke fluently.
"Malice." Myson translated, almost unwittingly.
Chilon frowned as he turned to the other man.
"Hate." Myson said. "Strength. Service."
"He's translating." Aranea said as she glanced upon the confused look on Chilon's face. "It's Old Agarthan."
"We offer." Myson whispered, his voice reduced to a whisper as the voice of Thales rose to a shout. "A chance for vengeance, power-"
And then the room exploded with dark power, the culmination of the unholy ritual knocking both Myson and Chilon back, both men wincing as they climbed back to their feet.
"Ascension." Myson finished as he found his legs once more, watching the pale form of the reborn Solon.
AN: DunDunDun.
Goddammit. Now I have to figure out a way to write the Ashen Wolves into the story. Thanks DLC Wave 4!
Regardless, the plot thickens and the body count grows.
Next Time:
Hard truths and easy lies
Wasted blood
A difficult night
Voice of the enemy
Nobody likes reactionaries
Read. Review. Follow.
Still looking for a beta.
Review.
