Because it wouldn't be Suikoden without Silverbergs.
Disclaimer: Nope, I still don't own it.
Spoiler! The end of S III, so if you haven't gotten to the final confrontation, read at your own risk!
The Color of a Plan
Rain pattered against the window in a steady rhythm, lending dejection to an already dreary gray sky. The red-haired strategist stared out the window without really seeing, lost in thought. Behind him, candles lit a desk covered with reports and papers, and a table holding a map, with counters spread across it, indicating his forces and his enemy's.
Anyone who entered would probably chide him for staring at the rain, instead of at the map. He was supposed to be planning their next move, after all. But he, unlike lesser strategists, did not need the assistance of books and plans. He was a Silverberg, and Silverbergs needed nothing but their own minds. Besides, his own head showed him the picture so much more clearly than the stupid markers on an inadequate map.
Not that he couldn't use markers. Of course he could. His training had been very complete. He just didn't see the point. There was so much more to strategy than moving little red and blue markers around on a map. It was fascinating, to try to predict what moves the enemy would make. After all, humanity was so fickle. The enemy could run in more directions than one. You couldn't see that as clearly with markers.
Would his brother think of all the options, he wondered? They had been taught the same, but they both brought different beliefs to the battlefield. One was fighting for power and ambition, and the other was fighting to end the war and save the continent from certain destruction. Was it even possible to see the same things, through two so different lenses?
He didn't hate his brother. He crossed his arms over his chest and ran that thought through his mind again. No, he didn't hate his brother. He was disappointed, yes. He wanted more than anything to prove out as the better strategist, most definitely. But he did not want his brother to die, and he did not want his brother destroyed. He just wanted—needed—to win.
Tomorrow would be their last chance. If they lost tomorrow, it was over. Not for him, necessarily. Silverbergs tended to walk away from the war no matter which side they were on. But for the army, and for his leader, there would be little hope. And if they won tomorrow, well then, that would finish it too. Both sides knew this was the last battle. Both strategists knew this was their last chance.
The True Runes Luc had gathered would be in different places in the ruins. Luc would be at the center. Each rune would need a protector. How could he use that to his advantage?
He would think of a plan, he was sure. Besides, that was for later. First there was the battle to get through. What path would be best? Where could they retreat to? He ran through the strategy he had chosen for the hundredth time, searching for anything he might have forgotten or left out. He had compensated for the use of runes, and cavalry, and infantry. Monsters and true soldiers. What would his brother think of, that he might have forgotten? No matter. He would just have to react on the spur of the moment, tomorrow. He was perfectly capable of formulating or reformulating a plan in the middle of a battle. It was not ideal, perhaps, but he could do it.
He watched in the reflection as the door opened. He composed his face, even though he would not let the other person see it. He just couldn't let others know that this was hard for him in any way. He must be cool and collected and in control.
"It's on the desk," he said coolly, without turning or waiting for the question.
The other walked over to the desk and picked up the paper on which he had written his strategy. The other looked it over for a moment, and nodded. "Good."
"We may have to change it quickly, tomorrow," he reminded the other.
The other glanced over at the redhead. "Fine." The other walked to the door and closed it firmly on the way out. The redhead turned back to the window, studying his reflection again. "Tomorrow, brother, we will see whose plan is better," he promised softly. Then he turned to return to his desk. It wouldn't hurt to look everything over one last time before tomorrow.