Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem.
Chapter Three: Greil Mercenaries
Soren did not sleep well that night, to put it generously. It wasn't because he was uncomfortable, or anything like that—if anything he was too comfortable, lying beside the fire wrapped up in a spare cloak. Every time he closed his eyes he could only see the Greil Mercenaries' deaths over and over again, not stopping even for a moment, much less long enough to fall asleep.
It pained him, not just because he had to rewatch the deaths of his comrades, but because it reminded him of his ultimate failure as a tactician: the loss against Ashera. It had been his job to ensure something like that never happened, and he had done it well for years; but it only took one opponent, one failure of a plan, to end everything.
Deciding he'd spent enough time futilely trying to fall asleep, Soren sat up and extracted himself from his makeshift blanket, gathering a small number of things from his satchel. Books, mostly, but also his canteen and a small piece of wrapped up meat.
Once he'd appropriately collected his things, he moved a few meters from the fire and—facing away from said fire—placed them down next to a fallen tree. It would make a decent object to rest his back against, all things considered. Better than a rock, at least. Rocks were helpful when one was trying to sleep in cold weather—they reflected heat extremely well—but in the summer in Crimea? They made Soren overheat very quickly.
His small collection of items in their temporary home, Soren looked back towards the fire, judging the level of the flames. It had died down in the hours when he'd been trying to sleep; where flames had once reached almost a meter and a half now were barely a quarter of that, nearly burnt down to coals. It would be prudent to add fuel to the fire and return it to its former glory, and, more importantly, light the area once more. Once could never be too careful in the forest at night, even in normally peaceful Crimea.
There were some sticks lying beside the fire, originally meant as fuel before the fire had reached as low as it had, but they would not be enough. Soren should have been paying attention to the fire, watching to refuel it when necessary, but he had forgotten all about it, too distracted by the images in his head.
Signing under his breath, Soren moved out into the forest to collect more firewood. It was quite difficult to see far away from the fire, the only light being that of the moon as it filtered down through the trees above, and he was forced to fashion a makeshift torch to light his path.
He managed to collect enough fuel to last the rest of the night, and no more. There was no need to take more than he needed, and it wouldn't be too much of a shame if they ran out right before dawn. It took him several trips to collect it all, and he had no wish to make any more.
The firewood in its new home near the fire, Soren went back and took a seat next to the small tree he had moved his things to, leaning his back up against it and taking a long look at the forest around him.
There wasn't much to see, both due to the general lack of light and the amount of time Soren had spent staring into the fire, trying to sleep. What was more interesting were the sounds of the forest, quiet as many of them were. Most—if not all—of them were drowned out by the chirping of the many small insects native to Crimea, but a small number of them could still be heard in spite of their louder companions. Namely the slight rustle of small animals slipping their way through the wood, and titular calls of the Crimean Shriek Owl.
After his moment of observation, Soren reached to his side and took hold of a well-worn book, propping it open on his knees. The lack of light made it somewhat difficult to see the words on the pages, but he would make do. While reading, he drummed the fingers of his right hand on the corresponding knee, holding the book open with his left as he did so.
Normally he would have no issue at all with sitting still; it was a frequent occurrence for him, and a necessary one for any military leader. But there was a difference between sitting during a strategy meeting and not doing anything when he knew he was able to. By all rights, he should have been doing something about the Daein occupation of Crimea, even if it was only walking through the night to Fort Greil.
Several hours—or what seemed like it—into his reading, he closed his book and set it beside him, massaging the bridge of his nose. His eyelids drooped, but he forced them to stay open. Even hours after his first attempts he was seeing flashes of white and the sounds of bodies hitting stone.
At a sound from the camp behind him, he straightened and blinked the weariness from his eyes. The now-Princess Elincia must have shifted in her sleep, which implied actually getting to sleep in the first place. Soren was envious.
His shoulders slumped back down, and he rested his chin on his hand, which he had brought up from his side. All he wanted was to sleep, even if only for a few hours.
More rustling came from the camp behind him, and mere moments later Elincia slid down next to him, leaning her own back against the tree. She seated herself an arm's reach away; close enough to easily be able to converse, even in whispers, but far enough as to not be crowding him.
There was silence for several minutes, neither of the two of them knowing how to break it. They hadn't interacted much, in the grand scheme of things, and, for all that the planning they'd done the night before, Soren wasn't interested in starting a conversation. He never really was, if he was being honest.
He sighed heavily, blinking his eyes for a moment too long. Ike's face filled his mind's eye, mere seconds before the blue-haired man was vaporized by Ashera, a scorch mark on the stone floor the only sign he'd ever been there. Soren shook himself, clenching one hand at his side.
At his side, Elincia seemed to have noticed her companion's distress and turned to look at him. "Is everything all right?" she asked quietly.
Something within Soren snapped at the princess's question. "No! Nothing is all right!" he spat, turning to fully face his companion. "We've only had our entire group killed by a literal goddess, been sent back to the start of the Mad King's War, the only other who knows of this is missing, we have no support in the slightest, and to top it all off neither of us can sleep!"
He drew in a deep breath after the end of his rant, slumping his shoulders and leaning back against the tree. He normally would never have gone off on somebody like that—he prided himself for being a very calm and collected person—but something about the princess' placid demeanor rubbed him the wrong way.
The princess in question remained silent in the face of his anger, even as it faded and he ran a hand through his hair. He hated it; not only because of his lack of control over his surroundings, but also due to the fog of exhaustion clouding his mind.
"Is that what you think, then?" Elincia questioned, her voice never rising above that first, almost inaudible, tone. "That there is no hope? That we are doomed to play out the same fate a second time?"
"Potentially," Soren said slowly, taking a moment to think through his answer. Elincia opened her mouth to say something, but Soren continued before she could get her words out. "However, despite the fact that we have no army, no allies, and no resources, we are in a better situation than we have ever been in.
"Our knowledge of the future will allow us to secure allies where we would otherwise be unable, in addition to lowering our casualty rate in the many battles we will take part in." He paused, rubbing his chin in a contemplative manner. "The only issue will be the lack of support we have, with only the Greil Mercenaries for a time. And even when we have King Caineghis's backing we will have no support until Begnion."
"We will have relative safety once we reach Gallia, should the mercenaries accept our proposal."
Soren's plan would make that a non-issue. There was very little chance Commander Greil wouldn't do what Soren wanted him to. Manipulating Greil wasn't something Soren wanted to do—he was Ike's father, after all—but it was a necessary evil. Commander Greil was somewhat predictable if one had known him for years.
They fell into silence after that, each of them contemplating the upcoming future. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, with both of them staring off wherever caught their respective attention. Occasionally, one of them moved, shifting into a more pleasant position and drawing the other's eye. Whichever one of them it was would quickly observe their companion to ensure that nothing had gone awry, before returning their gaze to the unknown.
Soren spent half his time observing the forest around them, checking to see if any hostile fauna had approached them during any lapse in his watch, and the other half was split between watching the fire and his companion. He was relatively sure that the fire would last until daybreak—he had gotten what was probably far too much firewood. The forest, on the other hand, needed the most watching. The princess could handle herself, Soren knew, and if anything were to happen to the camp she would be able to fight in an instant. But anything could theoretically leap out of the forest, including a detachment of Daein men, who would be drawn to the fire like moths.
It was tiring, to be sure.
Not too long after she and Soren had ceased their discussion, Elincia seemed to fall asleep, sliding her body down and using the log as a makeshift pillow rather than a back-rest. She had a slightly pained look on her face—a log wasn't the most pleasant thing to use as a pillow—but, after pulling a rough blanket up to her chin, she seemed more at peace than Soren would have expected.
Elincia being asleep brought little comfort to Soren, as he was still unable to sleep himself. Thus, he was left alone on his vigil of the forest, even if he had technically been as such the entire time.
Multiple hours after the princess had fallen asleep, Soren was still alone, but he was feeling slightly less exhausted than before. He had discovered that, using his Wind tome, he could utilize magic as a direct equivalent for sleep, eliminating the need for rest of any kind. Needless to say, he was very excited about the possibilities of such a technique. It would allow him to operate on no sleep during the many campaigns he would need to plan in the future.
Ever the strategist, Soren had decided that he would reuse almost as few of the plans he had made Before as he could, opting instead to use far more efficient and life-saving plans whenever possible. There were many cases where he had thought that his plans weren't perfect—he wasn't so arrogant as to say that—but since he knew almost every variable for said plans that was relevant before they even happened, he could have everything prepared and perfected.
Still, that would only make matters slightly easier; as much as Soren loved to demean their military strategy, the Daeins were no fools. He would always need to be ready to adapt his plans as the situation required. As any good tactician should.
After many slow, agonizing hours of watch, the sun finally began its daily ascent into the sky, prompting Soren and his companion to rise from their makeshift bedrolls.
There wasn't much they needed to do to collapse their camp before leaving—Soren had let the fire go out not too long before daybreak, leaving only the smoldering coals resting in their fire pit. He doused them with some water from a nearby stream shortly after crawling out of his blankets, scattering the ashes into the forest after he'd done so.
That left them to quickly collect their things—the only things they really had were from Soren's bag—and, after a short meal of the rest of food Soren had brought, they set out in the direction of the Greil Mercenaries' hideout.
After about an hour of travel, the two caught sight of their destination; the old, moss-covered fort that was the Greil Mercenaries' base of operations. Commander Greil had found it not too long after he had started the group, quickly taking possession of it when he learned it had been abandoned for years. It was formerly used by Crimean troops guarding the border to Gallia as a rest stop, but Crimea's improving relations with the Gallians had caused them to abandon it.
The walls of the fort extended around the main group of buildings, covering them in a blanket of protection and forcing any attackers to fall into one of three small chokepoints: the eastern, southern, or western gates. The walls had served them well in the past; giving them a perfect line of defense against the Daeins, forcing the enemy to throw themselves into those defending the gates, earning a quick and bloodless victory.
Directly inside the gate was a small shed with nothing special about it, only used for the storage of weapons and equipment. Most of the time it was filled to the brim with various arms and armors, everything sorted neatly and efficiently by Soren himself, fulfilling his duties as quartermaster. But if he remembered correctly, there was a distinct lack of resources in the shed prior to their departure to Gallia, for unknown reasons. Something was always wrong whenever he returned to the group from a trip, both before and after Greil's death; no one else ever bothered to take up his position when he left for short periods.
Across from the armory—if one could even call it that—was the living quarters for the majority of the group, excluding Commander Greil and Captain Titania; the two of them lived in the main keep, both to cement their authority, and so they would not wake anyone up when they went out to do their training together. The living quarters was a large, rectangular building, with two glass windows on the front and one on the southern side. Underneath them lay some flower bushes the younger members tended to in their spare time.
Perpendicular to the living quarters was the keep of the fort, its tall, castle-like appearance somewhat contrasting the smaller scale the rest of the fort took. Most of the group spent much of their time in the keep, it being where the eating hall and meeting room stood, as well as the library. There were many differing types of books in the library, for the mercenaries' differing tastes in literature; for instance, Mist and Rolf both enjoyed a good adventure novel, while Rhys preferred medical textbooks as the resident doctor.
As they made the final approach into the fort, they were met with the sight of Mist seated on the steps of the keep, a heal staff cradled in her arms. The girl's head was bent down towards the ground, face a picture of concentration as she lowered her staff. On the grass in front of her, there lay a small brown bird, one of the many that flew through the trees in Crimea, its wing bent in the wrong direction.
The staff glowed softly, and Mist smiled brightly as the bird's wing fused itself back together. Once she was done, she picked up the creature and held it in her hands, speaking quietly to it before tossing it back into the sky with a content smile on her face.
"Mist," Soren greeted, stopping a few meters from the girl.
Mist yelped and quickly hid her staff behind her back, looking around wildly. "Who—oh, it's you, Soren. When did you get back? And who's this?" she asked, peering around Soren to look at Elincia.
"We need to speak to the commander as soon as possible," Soren said, dodging the questions.
"Father's out training Ike again. It could be some time before they return." She gestured to the south, where the field that Greil preferred to train in lay. "He's in the usual place. I think they took Boyd with them as well."
They would wait, then. Ike's training was vitally important to the survival of the world, and it wouldn't do to interrupt it. Even one extra training session could be the difference between life and death. A thought suddenly struck him that, since the swordmaster Stefan would be completing Ike's training, it might make little difference in the end. Still, it couldn't hurt,
Soren nodded to Mist. "We will be waiting in the boardroom." He jerked his head in the direction of the keep, leading the princess in and taking the first turn to the boardroom.
Stepping through the open doorway, Soren took his seat on the right of the head of the table; his designated seat. He sat across from where Titania would sit, were she there, while Commander Greil took the head of the table. They were the only three who had assigned seats, Soren and Titania because of their knowledge and experience, respectively.
Elincia sat down next to the mage, back straight and head held high, like she was holding court in her throne room, not seated at an old wooden table. She folded her hands in her lap, completing the image of a queen in her court. The only thing she was missing was her royal armor, as opposed to the orange dress she was wearing.
The fact that Commander Greil was away was irrelevant; it would not change the time of their arrival in Gallia very much, if at all. If anything it would increase their chances of survival at the border; the Daeins would grow lazy and sloppy the longer they held position.
Soren was patient. He could wait. He had been patient for years during his childhood, if one could call it that, waiting for something to change his life for the better. He had been patient during the time in between wars, his need to use tactics barely satiated by small battles against bandits.
As they waited, small sounds could be heard throughout the building; most likely someone doing repairs on the admittedly old keep. The mercenaries drew straws every so often to decide who would do the necessary repairs to certain buildings in the fort, but very few of them actually wound up doing them, the usually being taken by Greil or Titania.
Soren lightly tapped his fingers on the top of the table, a stark contrast to his companion's stillness. It wasn't that he was nervous, more bored than anything else. While he was somewhat content to wait for Ike and Greil to return, that didn't mean he enjoyed it.
A map of Crimea on the wall drew his attention, and he quickly ran the Daein army's known locations through his head. They had enough forces to cover the border to Gallia, as well as covering their own border with Begnion, so it was rather strange how easy it had been to pass their border guards. The Daeins would have spread their men throughout the Crimean countryside, seizing control of as many forts as possible; Crimea had many of them from the Daein-Crimea war of 410. From there they would seek to remove any remaining resistance, but it would take them almost a year to do so, giving the Greil Mercenaries plenty of time to go to Begnion and back.
Someone's boots abruptly rang against the polished wooden floors of the keep, quickly followed by several door opening and closing in succession, before Rolf poked his head into the room. The boy's eyes widened when he saw Soren in the room, even further when he saw Elincia beside the mage. He left momentarily, returning with a small loaf of bread which he quickly tore into, passing pieces to Soren and Elincia.
"Hello," Rolf said after he finished chewing his bread, eyeing the princess curiously.
Soren mumbled a quick greeting before stuffing his own slice into his mouth. From what he could tell, Rolf had just come in from his secret archery training with Shinon, the slight reddening of his fingers and left arm attested to that. It was honestly amazing how none of them had noticed the two leaving for several hours each day, Rolf returning with sore arms and occasionally a slight smile on his face. Shinon never left with an extra bow, Soren had observed the man for many years and had never seen him leave the fort with one, so it was logical to assume that he had hidden a bow somewhere in the forest.
"I assume you are waiting for the commander?" Rolf half-asked, half-stated, looking to Soren.
He nodded. "Indeed."
"He and Ike should return shortly," Rolf said, "I passed the two of them and Boyd on the way back."
As if on cue, several loud thuds came from the entryway, shortly preceding Greil's entrance into the room. The man was massive—Soren had forgotten just how large he really was—standing a head taller than anyone in the company. His signature orange cape flowed behind him as he strode into the room, clasped with a small brooch at his neck. Hardened features betrayed no emotion, reminding Soren of the way all of the company looked after two separate wars.
"Welcome back, Soren," Commander Greil said, taking his place at the head of the table. "Mist told me you had urgent news."
"I do," Soren confirmed. "But it would probably be better if the others were here."
Greil grunted and told Rolf to fetch the rest of the group, the boy quickly scampering off, before casting a calculating look at Soren. Blue eyes bored into Soren, making him feel like the older man was staring directly into his soul. There was something about the way Greil held himself that made Soren wish to tell him everything; it was the same charisma that his son had used to recruit an entire army to retake Crimea. The trait ran in the family, from what Soren could tell. Mist also had it, to a lesser degree, that she never utilized.
During what seemed like forever of Greil watching Soren, the rest of the mercenaries had entered the room and had taken seats at the table, ready for the news Soren had to tell them.
After getting the go-ahead from the commander, Soren rose to his feet and moved next to the map on the wall, ever so slightly changing the way he stood in preparation for giving a briefing.
"Two days ago, Daein launched an armed invasion of Crimea," he started. "I was at the library in Melior doing some research when word reached me of the invasion; soldiers clad in armor black as midnight ravaging the countryside, wyverns screaming through the air above them."
"The Daein army?" Commander Greil asked rhetorically.
Soren nodded in return. "Correct."
"Were they provoked into the attack?"
"Not that I know of." Soren shook his head. "But you are no doubt aware of the relations between Daein and Crimea; the… hostility that has been present throughout these past years must have come to a head.
"It is apparent that the Daeins have been preparing for this attack for some time, however, the speed and ferocity of their attack is like none I have ever seen before. They have left destruction in their wake, even going so far as to destroy sections of Melior itself. And that is to say nothing about the supposed treatment of the civilians and their homes thus far."
"A bold move from the Daein army," Captain Titania noted.
"But, should they succeed in their goals, an excellent one," Greil confirmed. "I do not doubt that the king of Daein would employ such underhanded tactics. Continue, Soren."
"Duke Renning, King Crimea's brother, deployed much of the Crimean army in an attempt to halt the attack, leaving the rest behind to ensure the safety, and escape, of the people of Melior and its surrounding villages. After word reached me, I left the city and came here."
Some of the information Soren was sharing was not any he had access to at the time of the invasion, but had learned after the war from survivors. There was not much he could work with, had he not brought up the extra information, and he wanted to give a proper assessment of the situation to Greil. It was never a good idea to go into a situation lacking intel, something many people had learned the hard way.
Greil leaned forward in his seat, folding his arms down on the table. "But we don't know how the war will end, do we?" He shook his head. "It does not matter. We are far enough from the capital that we may be the first to know this information. You did well to return so quickly, Soren. There was some risk involved, was there not?"
Soren waved off the question. "It was nothing."
"We may be mercenaries," Titania began, "But this war still affects us, and our business."
"What will we do about it?" Ike asked from the other side of the room.
"That is the question of the hour," Greil confirmed. "But first; who is your companion, Soren?"
Elincia took that as her cue and rose to from her seat, standing beside Soren at the front of the room. "I am Princess Elincia Ridell Crimea, the only daughter of King Ramon Crimea."
Many of them who were not previously paying attention, mostly the younger members of the group, looked up and stopped whatever they had been doing to pass the time, clearly interested now that a Princess was involved.
"A princess, eh?" Greil said. "I've never heard of a Crimean princess; what proof do you have of your claim?"
Elincia looked to the floor, hesitating for a moment. She was about to speak when Soren saw an opening, voicing his thoughts. "I will vouch for her identity. She bears a striking resemblance to King Crimea, of what little I know of him. And the number of Crimean Royal Knights I found near her proves that she is at least a noble of some kind. If that is not enough, while I was on my way here I slipped past a patrol of Daein soldiers who spoke of hunting for a princess of Crimea."
The rest of the group looked to Soren in surprise. Before the war, he would have never vouched for Elincia, but it put events into motion that he knew needed to happen; resulting in Elincia being crowned Queen, which would be vital in years to come.
"That is enough for me, Commander," Captain Titania said, breaking the silence that followed Soren's words.
"Very well, please continue, your highness."
Elincia smiled lightly, clasping her hands in front of her. "My thanks, Commander Greil. My father wished for me to seek refuge in the kingdom of Gallia, with King Caineghis. Father hoped he would be able to help me. I was traveling there when my escort was attacked, and I was knocked unconscious in the chaos. That is where Soren found me. He told me he was a member of a mercenary group, so I came with him in hopes of hiring you to escort me to Gallia."
"This brings us back to our previous topic; if we were to provide aid to Princess Elincia, we would be choosing sides in this war. Thoughts, Titania?" Greil asked.
"We have lived in Crimea for many years, Commander," Titania replied, "And it's the closest thing our company has to a home. We have been contracted many times by the Crimean royal family and its surrounding noble houses, and they have been extremely generous employers. As well as from a moral standpoint, it's in our best interest to assist the princess."
Greil nodded thoughtfully, turning away from his deputy. "And yours, Soren?"
"As it stands, the Daein army's presence in Crimea poses a significant threat to the safety and future of this company. We have no idea of what they would do if they were to discover the presence of a heavily armed and well-experienced mercenary company in their newly conquered lands. They could attempt to kill us for simply existing, or make us a job offer; there's no way to know." Soren shrugged. "While the latter is far less likely, in my opinion, it is still a possibility to consider." He paused, thinking through his next sentence.
"It is also worth considering the potential debt the Crimean royal family would have with us, should we agree to the princess's proposal. Not to mention the notoriety we would receive for our work for her, both positive and negative—whichever you prefer." His eyes met the commander's. "Either way, I believe it is worth the risk."
The commander frowned in thought. "And the rest of you? Gatrie, Shinon?" Greil turned back to the rest of the group, as he asked the question, directing his unblinking gaze at the archer and armor knight.
"I could never say no to a pretty girl, whether she's a princess or not," Gatrie said longingly. "Although… I do prefer country girls, now that I think about it, far less standoffish." He blinked when he realized everyone was staring at him, quickly shaking his head. "Forget I said anything; whatever you think is best, Commander."
"I say no," Shinon said bluntly, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall. "It would be far safer for us to simply hand the princess over to the Daeins for a small fee. And I'd rather not go to Gallia, stinking beast country."
"Oscar, Boyd, what are your thoughts?"
Oscar took a look at his brother, before turning Commander Greil, taking the lead for the two of them. "I'm with Captain Titania. We'd be essentially giving the Daeins permission to kill the princess, if we were to do anything other than help her."
Boyd nodded emphatically. "Agreed. We should help her. That's what heroes are supposed to do."
"And you, Rhys?"
"We should never refuse to help someone in need; it doesn't matter if she's a princess or not," the frail man said, looking Commander Greil directly in the eyes. "That is what I believe."
"Yes! Let's help her!" Rolf said excitedly.
"We have to help her, please!" Mist agreed.
Greil nodded and turned to look at his son, who had a thoughtful expression on his face. "Ike?"
Frowning slightly, Ike was silent, thinking over his decision. It was quite clear to those that knew him well what his decision would be; he would protect the princess. It was just who he was, even before the Mad King's War. He would always help those in need, even to the detriment of himself. "I agree with Titania. I say we help her and take her to Gallia."
The commander's face did not change; he had clearly been expecting the answer from his son. "I see. Now that you have all said your piece, I have made my decision: we will escort the princess to Gallia."
Shinon huffed angrily, but said nothing, a dark scowl on his face. He would not contest Commander Greil; he was too much of a coward for that. It was not until after Greil's death that he had voiced his malcontentment.
"Go prepare your things; the journey to Gallia will not be short," Greil ordered. A series of nods circled the room, and the mercenaries began to shuffle slowly out of the room, each splitting off in their own direction once they were out the door.
Before long, Soren, Elincia, and Greil were alone in the briefing room; the commander resting his elbow on the table and scratching his chin lightly. His shoulders were drooping minutely, only noticeable to someone who had spent years with him and Ike. It would not be surprising for Soren to learn that Greil was wary of the Daeins. The man was both a deserter and a criminal in the country after his theft of the medallion, and he was likely hunted shortly after his and his wife's escape with it. Even a warrior of his skill had to bow to numbers and flee, especially when potentially faced with an entire army.
Soren moved to the door and stopped before going through it. "Princess Elincia," he voiced, drawing her attention. "If you wish to make yourself useful I would suggest speaking to Mist in the galley; she should have some work for you."
She gave him a grateful smile and he left the room, heading for his quarters. He passed several other mercenaries on his way, all of them busy with some sort of job, greeting them as he went. There were many things that needed to be done before they left, other then simply packing one's individual supplies.
His plan had succeeded, as expected.
Soren's room was marked with a simple sign with his name on it, as were the others, each with a simple wooden door to protect the privacy of the user. Many of them had painted symbols underneath the signs, all with some degree of importance to the painter. Soren was not one of these; having never had one of enough importance to mark his door with.
The inside of Soren's room was dark as midnight, no windows or candles to light it. Perpendicular to the door lay his desk, a hard oak one that was older than Soren himself; it had been in the room when Commander Greil had claimed the fort, many years before, and he'd instantly taken a shine to it, preventing anyone from moving it out of the room. The surface was covered in a conglomeration of notes, tomes, and other small trinkets he'd found at various points in his life.
On the left side was a small cot that Soren only occasionally used, with only a pillow and a thin blanket covering it; southern Crimea was typically somewhat warm, but sometimes reached almost freezing during Winter, when he would fetch extra coverings from Mist.
To the right was a massive bookcase that dominated the room, shelves covered completely in both literature and magical tomes, in an uneven amount, if Soren was being honest. While he was almost fanatical about collecting tactic- and strategy-based books, it was very easy for someone to find themselves with an excessive amount of tomes.
His satchel made a soft impact with his cot as he tossed it down, digging underneath it to find his box of clothes and a larger bag. Even though he was only supposed to be packing for the trip to Gallia, he knew he would be gone from the base for far longer than Greil thought, and would pack accordingly. He packed two spare sets of robes and other nessicary clothing, as well as the books that he had purchased in Melior, before going to his bookshelf and scanning it for powerful tomes.
It quite frankly disgusted Soren how few stronger than El-level tomes he had in his possession, but he supposed it was the level he had been on prior to the war. He could far surpass it now, if his magical prowess had not been lowered from his trip through time.
Mere minutes later, he had packed all of his things and secured all of his important documents for travel, placing them securely in two small bags; there was plenty more he wanted to bring, but had no space for, so he had put the extras in a hidden compartment that he knew could even survive the building being burned down.
After making sure he had everything he could carry, he left the room and placed his bags in the entryway of the living quarters, along with several others' bags. There was no one in the room, but he could hear people moving in their own chaimbers, rifiling through their own no doubt important belongings.
Soren walked out of the living quarters and stepped across the courtyard, passing Boyd, who was on his way out of the storage shed with an armful of weapons. The two glanced at each other as they each went their own directions, Soren to the keep, and Boyd to the front gate, where he placed the stack of weapons on the ground.
The inside of the keep was bustling with activity, people moving this way and that as they threw items quickly into crates. Soren jumped to the side as Gatrie came bowling through, a large crate full of goods in his arms, the blond man quickly moved into the galley and disappeared from view, the door softly closing behind him.
Poking his head through into the galley himself, Soren saw Mist, Elincia, and Gatrie throwing assorted foodstuffs into crates and packing them up. Gatrie was mostly attempting to flirt with Elincia, emphasis on 'attempting', so he was not getting much work done. The two girls were chatting merrily about one thing or another, as girls are wont to do, completely ignoring the knight.
Soren left to find Commander Greil; he needed to speak to the older man about the necessary logistics of the trip to Gallia. As far as he knew, they did not have sufficient food or weapons to make it to Gallia; in the past they had needed to heavily ration their food just to make it, so it would be vastly preferable to acquire more. There was a small town somewhere to the southwest of their hideout where they could buy more, about halfway to Gallia, but he didn't know if it had been overrun by the Daeins yet.
Only a few steps from the Commander's office, Soren was stopped short by someone banging on the front gate; a soldier, by the sound of it. The man had slammed his fist into the wood and created a specific sound that could only come from an armored hand. He shouted something Soren couldn't quite hear and waited a moment, before shouting again.
The hall in the keep was quickly filled with mercenaries leaving their work, all of them congregating outside the door in an attempt to see who was causing the ruckus. It was a man clad in gilded black armor with a lance held lightly in one hand, his face set in a steely expression. He had short-cropped dark green hair, and green eyes slightly hidden behind high cheekbones. A battlehorse stood slightly behind him, held by another man in black armor.
He pounded on the gate another time, hand visibly clenching on the shaft of his lance. "In the name of the kingdom of Daein, open this gate and identify yourselves!"
The door opened once more, all of the members of the small group being quickly pushed aside as Commander Greil marched through to the gate, stopping a short distance from the Daein soldier and standing in a loose, yet ready, stance. The Daein stopped his pounding and inspected Greil, taking note of his posture, and the war axe looped into his belt.
"Who are you?" the Daein demanded rudely, not giving Greil any time to identify himself.
Soren moved near the front of their group as Commander Greil answered the Daein, prepared to call out orders for when they inevitably attacked. He noticed the others had subtly taken up their own weapons, those that had them, at least; Rhys had picked up a small branch that was lying around.
The Daein army had some… issues when it came to combat; the Generals that Ashnard had put into place lived for combat, as well as most of the Four Riders, passing down their lust for combat to their subordinates. It was something Micaiah had only distantly needed to deal with when she'd commanded the Daein military. Soren vaguely remembered her mentioning it during one of their stops in the Tower of Guidance.
The two large men argued back and forth for a moment, the Daein growing more and more agitated as they went on. The Daein seemed to mistake them for Crimean knights and very quickly drew his weapon of the commander. The two exchanged a few quick blows before the Daein backed off in the face of Greil's might, mounting his horse and riding back down the path to his men.
"Ike," Commander Greil barked, "You're in charge of the defense of the front gate, Soren will help you. I'll handle the back gate."
"Understood," Soren said, already having multiple plans for this exact scenario drawn up in his head.
The commander shot Titania an unreadable look, likely telling her to keep an eye on the younger members of the company, and ran to the back gate. To the side, Ike looked troubled at his father's decision to put him in command for such an important battle, but quickly recovered. "I hope you have a plan, Soren."
"I do. Gatrie and Titania cover the western gate, backed up by Shinon, while the rest of us handle the southern one. We should be able to handle the choke point that is the southern gate. And if we can't, then Gatrie or Titania can slide over and assist us, or vice versa," Soren explained.
Ike nodded. "Take your positions, everyone."
The battle did not last long. The lackluster Daein forces were no match for the well-coordinated Greil Mercenaries, the black-clad soldiers all falling in the field to the south of the fort. The mercenaries had performed well, in Soren's opinion; the less experienced among them accounted for several deaths among their opponents.
Even with the short duration of the battle, Soren could see its effect on his fellow mercenaries, the slight droop of their shoulders, and the tiredness in their eyes. Battle was an emotionally draining endeavor, but one that Soren was well acquainted with, and was close to immune to its effects. He wasn't always that way; many years before, when he'd only been a new mercenary, he'd been like them, but going through two wars had gotten him used to the horrors of battle.
He observed the field from the top of the small hill that the fort sat upon, taking in the field of blood and bodies that lay beneath him. It was a gruesome sight, one that would have caused lesser men to turn away; men and their equipment strewn every which way across the ground, armor stained red with blood. Soren had never enjoyed unnecessary messes when it came to battle, but it was something that took more effort to prevent than to cause.
He turned away from the carnage and walked back to the fort, head lowered, eyes directed at the grass under his feet. This was the first of many battles, he knew, battles that he had already fought once, and would have to again. It was not something he was looking forward to. He would try to prevent what he could, along with his companions, but the future of Tellius was always war; there was nothing he could do to stop it.
I'm back! Sorry it took so long; writing actual characterization properly is hard! This chapter is a fusion of the current and previous drafts, along with a few edits here and there that were noticed while proofreading, so there might be some mistakes in places due to that fact. But, eh, I just wanted to get this out so I can continue the story.
I will also be doing some edits to the previous chapters as I upload this one; changing a few individual words in a place ot two. Most likely not noticeable at all, but they're bugging me so I'm gonna do it.
Also, I will be slowing down in the writing department to focus more on characterization than I did before, and it's unlikely I'll be able to hold an update schedule because of that. I'll still do my best to keep once a month, but I'm not going to sacrifice quality for speed. We'll see what happens.
Anyways, I'm outta here. See you later!