Schemes Before War has been updated 2020/02/09. Originally published in 2016.
Schemes Before War
Dawn had come, and as the sun rose over the waters, the ever-weary soldiers rose from their beds. Roy had already been up for a short time now, as sleep had escaped him for much of the night—in truth, he had been almost afraid to sleep, for fear that the dragons may have visited him in his dreams.
He groggily stared out into what little of the morning sun he could see, his eyelids heavy and his body exhausted. As he looked out, he could have sworn a dot had begun to grow in the sky in front of the sun, but he shrugged it off as his imagination taking advantage of his tiredness.
It wasn't until a few minutes later, however, that he realized the dot was not just his imagination—it had grown considerably, and it looked like it had wings. Roy's eyes narrowed as he tried to focus.
What looked to be a Pegasus knight was approaching their encampment. Roy blinked slowly a few times and pinched the bridge of his nose before looking out to reassure himself of what he saw—and, once again, he saw a Pegasus knight.
"What would a lone Pegasus knight be doing coming here," he mumbled to himself. He pushed himself off the ground with his hand and dusted himself off, deciding it would be best to inform Marth of their incoming visitor.
Marth had barely woken up when Roy came to him, and, upon hearing what he had seen, nearly dropped what he had been holding of the tent's supports that he had been groggily gathering. Cain offered to finish tearing down the tent for Marth—an offer the prince gratefully accepted—and Marth followed Roy out to where he had seen the Pegasus knight.
By that time, the visitor was already at the island shore not far from them, and Marth seemed to recognize them.
"Is that… one of the Whitewings?" he questioned out loud, which made Roy look over to him. Marth glanced to Roy before heading out to meet her a little further out, and Roy hesitantly followed.
"Prince Marth," the blue-haired girl said as she landed her Pegasus in the grass. "Finally, I've caught up with you. I am Catria, one of the Whitewings of Medon."
"Yes, I remember you from before," Marth said. "What are you doing here?"
Catria looked down before looking back up at Marth. "I have come with a request from Princess Minerva."
This caught both Marth and Roy by surprise.
"Minerva?" Marth questioned.
"Yes," Catria responded with a nod. "She is planning to lead us against Doluna in rebellion; however, we are unable to do anything so long as Doluna holds Princess Maria, my mistress' younger sister, captive in Castle Deil."
Roy's eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "So that's why she attacked us alongside Harmein?"
"Unfortunately, yes. She has been under Doluna's thumb for far too long now, and her conscious is unable to handle much more," Catria explained. "We need to rescue Princess Maria, but we are unable to do it alone. Will you help us? The Whitewings will assist you in your plight if you are able to free the princess."
Roy looked to Marth, who had a stern expression as he contemplated Catria's question. Catria, though she did not want to show it outwardly, was desperately hopeful.
"… Alright, we will help," Marth said. "It's decided."
The Pegasus knight visibly relaxed as she bowed her head. "Thank you, prince Marth. With this news, I can leave knowing that soon my mistress and we Whitewings will no longer be under Doluna's control."
"Are you not staying here to help us?" Roy asked.
"I wish I could," Catria said, her expression troubled. "But my sisters and I were split up, for the enemy feared that we would work to conspire against them if we were all together. If I were seen on the battlefield alongside you now, surely my sisters would suffer for it."
Marth nodded in understanding. "That's fine, I understand. This is already a risky situation you put yourself in by coming to us," he said, to which Catria nodded.
"It is," she said. "Nevertheless, I am thankful I found you. I must go now, however, or the others will notice my absence..."
Her Pegasus flapped its wings as it lifted from the ground. "Thank you again, prince Marth, and I am certain we'll see each other again soon—but next time, on the same side of the battlefield."
With that, Catria departed. Marth and Roy watched her leave before Marth turned.
"I will go inform the others," he said before looking to Roy again. "… Roy, you look like you haven't slept a wink. Rest for a while; we've still got some time before we depart for the castle."
Roy shifted. "It was that obvious, was it?"
Marth smiled slightly. "The bags under your eyes say it all."
Roy had been thankful for what little rest he got before they left for Castle Deil—the travel was a long one, at least two days in length. They had already left Pyrathi and had started their trek across the peninsula.
Every single bone in Roy's body ached dully, though he would not complain out loud, nor would he let it show through his body language. Once in a while, he would find himself looking ahead to Marth, who was a short distance in front of him.
Even though Marth was young, he was a capable leader. A capable, thoughtful, and compassionate leader—and though he was still learning the art of war, his power on the battlefield was impressive.
Roy couldn't help but wonder if he would be like that himself one day. Or had he already been? For some reason, there was this lingering, nagging feeling in the back of his mind, that maybe he had been important at some point too.
The Akaneian League travelled as far as they could that day—as the sun finally began to set, Marth halted the company and had them set up camp for the night in a field nestled between two forests. By the time the camp was built, the sun had already hidden itself behind the horizon and stars dotted the skies.
Marth had gone to Malledus and Jagen to speak with them in private and had been absent for quite a while. Roy was seated at a campfire along with a few others—namely Barst, Darros, Merric, Matthis, Lena, and Julian.
"I don't know what to think of this," Matthis said. "It all just feels like some sort of trap, and we're walking right into it."
"Heh, I get ye," Darros said as he continued to clean his axe. "This ain't the kind o' leadership I thought I'd see from a prince. It's pretty dangerous."
Merric frowned. "I'm sure prince Marth has his reasons. He wouldn't just jump head-first into something without thinking it out first."
"Even so, that doesn't change the fact that this whole thing reeks of a setup," Matthis said.
"When I used to work for the Soothsires, they'd pull this kind of stuff all the time," Julian added. "If it's a trap, I wouldn't be surprised."
Merric was clearly uncomfortable with how little faith the others seemed to have in prince Marth's decision. Lena looked around at everyone before stopping at Roy, who had been silently staring into the fire for the whole debate, not really listening.
"… Roy," Lena said, drawing his attention away from the fire. "What do you think? Do you think that this is just a trap?"
Roy blinked slowly and stared at Lena for a moment before looking back to the fire. "What do I think…?"
Marth, who had just finished meeting with Jagen and Malledus, had overheard Lena's question. Though he was about to walk to the campfire himself, he decided to pause behind a nearby tent to listen.
After thinking for a moment, Roy returned his gaze to the others. "I think that prince Marth is smart," he began. "And I don't think Minerva is one to lie."
"Prince Marth has given a lot of us something that we wouldn't have if not for him—food, clothes, weapons and armor, and, even though they're constantly changing, a group of friends and a home," Roy continued. He looked to the fire once more, his gaze drifting as he watched an ember flit away into the air. ". . . Though I've only known him for a few months, I trust his leadership, and I trust him with my very life. I will fight alongside him, and my comrades, until my last breath escapes me. So… whether this is a trap or not, I have faith that he will make the right decisions in that defining moment, and we will emerge victorious."
The others at the campfire hushed, the only noise being the crackling of burning wood—Roy's words had left them with no rebuttal.
Marth was taken by surprise and could not help but stare in silence at the back of the mercenary that had just stood up for him. Even though they had known each other for a relatively short period of time, it was apparent that Roy held Marth in very high regard. The prince's gaze slowly lowered to the grass by the tent's edge.
Slowly, a small, genuine smile graced his expression.
Deciding against intruding, Marth turned and left towards his own tent to retire for the night.
It had taken the Akaneian League two nights and two and a half days to finally reach their destination. On the horizon loomed Castle Deil, which, under other circumstances would have been more of a relief—but because of its occupation by Doluna, all it spelled out was more warfare.
"So, you're telling me to keep an eye on this kid if we ever have to deal with him?" Zharov said gruffly, sitting on his throne. "Why should I believe you, someone I have never met before?"
"I assure you it will be in your best interest," spoke the target of Zharov's questions. A figure dressed in black robes stood before the throne, a tome in his hand. "Perhaps you will realize why when you do finally meet…"
A knock on the door to the throne room drew Zharov's attention away from the cloaked man. "Come in," he said.
Princess Minerva entered the throne room. "General," she said.
Zharov's eyes narrowed. "Princess Minerva, why are you here? It is unwise to leave your designated post, seeing as though your sister's wellbeing depends on your ability to obey orders."
Minerva's lips pursed. "General Zharov, I did not come to start a problem, and I am aware of my sister's current state. I only came to request to see her. She is only a child, to be left alone in a prison for so long…"
"That's not happening," Zharov said, cutting her off. "She is a prisoner, a hostage. Start following orders if you're so concerned."
Minerva cringed slightly, and the door behind her suddenly burst open.
"General! We've got a problem!" shouted a soldier as he entered, and Zharov let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl.
"Interruptions everywhere," he muttered. "What do you want?!"
"I'm sorry general, but it's an emergency! The rebel army, they've been sighted! They're coming in from the east, and quickly!" the soldier reported.
Both Minerva and Zharov were surprised.
"The rebels…?" Minerva whispered to herself. "That means prince Marth is coming…"
"Damn it, why the hell would they come here, anyway?!" shouted Zharov as he stood. "No matter! Ready the troops and the Dragoons, we'll wipe out those blasted rebels here before they get the chance to go any farther!"
"Yes sir!" the soldier responded with a salute before running back out of the throne room.
"Minerva, I better see you on the battlefield," Zharov growled at her. "If not, your sister will be the one to pay alongside those Akaneian League fools."
Minerva tensed before nodding. She quickly left the room so she could prepare herself for the upcoming fight.
"And you," Zharov said as he looked to the cloaked mage. "You go on ahead and warn Khozen and Volzhin of the approaching rebel army. I'm sure they'll be more than willing to pass on the word of your loyalties to Medeus. I would do it myself, but now my hands are full."
The man smiled under his hood. "You have my thanks, general," he said, his voice eerily smooth. In a wisp of dark wind, the mage was gone.
Zharov clicked his tongue and turned his back to the door of the throne room. "Those damned children," he growled. "All of them, from the prince to Minerva- all of them are fools. And every single one of them will pay."