Symmetry
Chapter Three: If Looks Could Severely Inconvenience
Franz levered the lock off the stable stores with a steel lance, feeling ridiculous as he used a weapon to get at weaponry, but Franz greatly preferred swords and the lance looked about as sturdy as an origami shield already. From inside he picked out what he wanted, used the steel lance to brace the castle door shut, and set about trying to motivate Forde's horse. Over the years, his steed had developed the same laid-back attitude as its rider, but none of the other adult ones would trust Franz, and he needed a strong one. "Come on… come on… ergh – how does Forde ever get you to charge an enemy?"
In protest of being asked to do work, Forde's horse neighed and clapped its hooves on the stone. In protest of Franz's easy journey through the castle to the stables, the universe placed a squad of enemy soldiers in the corridor outside.
"Hear that?" one of them asked.
"Just some horse getting weird," another said dismissively.
"Don't be an idiot, Renais horses are the best in Magvel. Fetch a great price on any market. …We should definitely check it out."
"'Cause there might be someone in there?"
"…Yeah. Sure."
By now Franz had managed to get the saddle and gear onto Forde's horse, and was halfway mounted when the first blow made his steel-lance-barricade vibrate like a guitar string. He abruptly changed tactics, and although the horse wasn't very co-operative, the invaders clearly had no idea who they were dealing with. Another two impacts almost played a chord on the ancient, eroded metal. A third snapped it, between the shaft and point, and two men burst into the room. Franz's incredible powers of observation quickly slotted them into the Not Citizens of Renais category, which meant they were both due a good bash.
"Told you it was just a horse," said the second, slightly less criminally-minded mercenary.
"Even better," said the first, who was helmeted. "Let's get it outside and in with ours, so we can get the gear and stuff off later, once we've got the castle." They approached the horse cautiously, and Franz slipped out from behind the door.
"…Are you sure that's all right with–"
"Hey, we got hired to help those guys get in here for some other big prize – the sort you'd be lucky if you could spell. They won't care about who gets a few big steeds."
"That's the plan," Franz agreed, neatly snatching the mercenary's helmet off before he clocked them both on the back of the head with the pommel of his sword. It would have been faster to kill them, but then the memory would have grated on him all day, and rope was plentiful in the stables anyway. He left them bound and gagged in the vacated stall, and rode out into the morning.
Everything still seemed quiet from outside the castle. The flags drifted morosely in the vague breeze, but all else was quiet stillness. This was apparently the quietest siege in history, and Franz wondered just what the invaders were up to. 'Some big prize', the merc had said.
At the south wall, things were a bit louder; soldiers clustered around the main gate, which had been opened without damage. How had anyone managed that? It would take an inside agent, someone who looked friendly to Renais but secretly worked for their anonymous foe. Franz grinned at the irony as he donned the unconscious merc's full helm – it covered his face, and was painted with the group's insignia on both sides. Add to that his generic steely armor, and he looked like any other young mercenary.
They only had a few cavaliers riding with them, but those were obviously on patrol, which gave Franz an opening he desperately needed. Aside from a long detour through the winding forest, there was no way to ride southeast without being spotted. He formulated the skeleton of a plan and set out, not daring to waste any time until the royalty and Seth were safe. Predictably, one of the invaders called out to him as he charged, somewhat awkwardly, past the gate.
"I said, get over here!" the archer repeated. Franz pulled up on the reins and pulled vaguely in the archer's direction, as if he didn't know who had spoken. "Where do you think you're going?"
"Hrmfrrflmf," Franz garbled, as if he couldn't speak inside the helmet. He also made a point of staring several feet to the left of the one shouting at him.
"Oh, bloody hell. Gone and got your head stuck in the wrong size helm?" Franz nodded and tapped his gauntlet against the metal a few times. It rang in his ear like earmuffs made from gongs. "By divinity, I don't know what kind of mess I'm commanding. All right. Get over that way – I said that way – and Brinks'll get you out of there, maybe even with yours ears still attached." Franz nodded again and started toward the southeast. "No, I said that way! That's the wrong – oh, hells, we're better off without him." Franz urged his brother's horse into a gallop.
"Does it still hurt?" asked Sergeant Faval, prodding.
"Ouch! Yes!" Amelia snapped, pulling her foot away from him.
"Probably a sprain, maybe a little break," the sergeant decided, straightening up. "Full marks on beating the starch out of your opponents, recruit, but if you're going to stalk away triumphantly, try to take a route that's not a bog."
"I said she was useless."
"Narsh, if she's so useless, stand up."
"I told you, my legs are numb!"
Amelia smiled and replayed the memory of knocking Narshen off-balance and smacking the pressure points under his knees with the heel of her lance. He had crumpled like a house of cards under a wyvern. The other three had been subdued in a variety of similar ways, usually not causing anything like permanent damage but very efficiently removing their will to fight. A fifth recruit had rushed her from behind, close to the end of the match, but he was breathing much better now. Amelia hadn't intended her second backwards jab to swing up like that, so she hadn't put her full strength into it.
"How in blazes did she do all that?" one of them demanded, as though Faval had somehow rigged a different Amelia in place of the real one.
"Recruit, are you addressing a superior officer?" Faval asked.
"…Yeah…"
"Then do it properly!"
He asked again, this time expanding greatly on the cursing, but ended it with "…sergeant?"
"I was expecting you lot to pay attention to your surroundings. You've only been winning against her because I've been giving you advantages as you had not earned, based on the assumption that you would have a clue what to do with them, i.e. learn a tactic or two from someone who knows more about battle than the rest of you put together!" Faval nearly smiled, although it was the sort of expression that would unnerve an elderbael. "Never let it be said that I am a man who cannot take a lemon from life and turn it into an acidic area support weapon! Therefore I considered it advisable to let you see what happens when Recruit Amelia is allowed to fight on her own terms, e.g. you lot get your rears handed to you on a military-regulation-sized platter!"
Even Amelia joined in the gawking. It lasted quite a while.
"…You've been doing this on purpose!" she repeated. "Uh… on purpose, sergeant?"
"In a manner of speaking," Faval agreed.
"What manner is that, sarge?"
"The 'too bloody right I have' manner, recruit. And you haven't been complaining about it, which shows fortitude, but you'd better practice storming away victoriously a few more times or you'll break something."
"Like my nose," Narshen grumbled, although it was just a bruise.
"That which does not kill you should at least hurt enough for you to know better next time!" the sergeant declared. "Everyone on your feet! Recruit Narshen, I hope you make friends quickly, 'cause you're going to need them to carry you! Recruit Amelia, you will notice at this time that your lance, helpful pole that it is, can also function as a handy crutch until such time as you need to ventilate a hostile force! I know I gave you all an order because I saw the trees bend, so move! We are on the march!"
Whoever these enemy soldiers were, they knew how to be efficient. As Seth and Eirika made their way through the corridors of Castle Renais, they found that the weapons had been removed from every storage place, including the ornamental suits of armor. It didn't matter quite as much as it might have, as they also only ever heard the distant echoes of the intruders. Obviously this was meant to be a subtle conquest-and-attempted-regicide.
Eirika was trying not to think like that, but she couldn't imagine why else anyone would want to take over Castle Renais right now. The treasuries had been depleted significantly by the restoration effort, and the more conventional treasures – the great ceiling mural of the battle against the Demon King, or the hidden chamber of the Sacred Twins – were essentially impossible to remove. The only reason to bother invading would be to kill Ephraim, and probably Eirika, too.
Seth couldn't help thinking like that. He was well aware that this danger was probably a match for the Grado invasion force that had killed King Fado, and the royal twins were now his responsibility. Well, if it came to a life-or-death situation, at least his confusion over Eirika would become moot. Knights tend to make better dead heroes than nobles.
Somewhere in the castle, Eirika decided, she would find a weapon. Something sturdy that she could use well, like a rapier, or a table. Something good in mahogany, maybe. Once she had armed herself, she would find Ephraim and Tana, and then she would kill absolutely anyone within forty miles who had considered harming a citizen of Renais. It was a good plan, and too straightforward to have major strategic flaws. She always had been the better strategist, she thought with a hint of pride.
"We're getting close," Seth murmured.
"To the royal chambers? Seth, I've lived here longer than you've known what a horse is."
"My apologies. Of course."
It was also rather disturbing that Seth was so… edgy. Eirika wasn't used to edginess in the Silver Knight, heroic general of Renais. Never before had he ridden into battle with less than perfect certainty that he was doing the best that he possibly could. Now he seemed to be constantly afraid, not that he was doing less than he was able, but that he couldn't do what would be required of him to save her.
And, Eirika knew, it was her that Seth was intent on protecting. Well, she supposed, that was reasonable, since they didn't know what situation Ephraim was in… but that was duty. Seth would kill or die for Ephraim, because it was his duty. Protecting her was something else that duty had no part of. He approached it with the determination and fire of a Chosen One working to fulfill their mystical destiny. Or even Destiny.
Did he believe so strongly in the way she was helping to lead the kingdom? Was it loyalty to her father, and his last command to protect her from harm?
He certainly didn't love her, or he would have shown it by now.
Eirika wasn't certain what that meant for her own feelings. She still hadn't quite worked out what love was, or was supposed to be, but she expected it was foolish to be devoted to someone who cared for her only through personal directive. It wasn't easy – Seth was brave, compassionate, and as stable as a battalion of magnetized knights – but there was no chance that the Princess of Renais was going to trip over herself trying to court the commander of her military.
Seth motioned for her to stop when they reached the next intersection, and leaned carefully around the corner. Things didn't look good from there; three mercenaries were standing guard outside Ephraim's door. 'Standing guard' was a laughably formal way of putting it, but they were standing there, or at least nearby, and – this was the sort of detail that a veteran warrior noticed quickly – all holding swords as tall as some recruits he had trained.
"That looks like they've already gotten inside," Eirika hissed.
"Indeed," the paladin agreed. He nodded down the hall on the other side of the juncture. "Run, princess."
"I am not fleeing, armed or not!" she protested.
"I didn't intend that you should," Seth replied. A smile tugged at one side of his face, giving him an expression that she knew had caused more than one Frelian Pegasus knight to consider moving to Renais.
Borse had been wondering for more than an hour how long they'd have to stand guard here, and was starting to think no one was ever coming out of this room. In that case, it would be safe to relax a bit, maybe bring out a pack of cards, and add a little bonus to this week's pay –
"What was that?" Teak snapped, staring down the hall.
"I saw it too," Flynn agreed. "A cape, long blue hair–"
"Princess Eirika!" Borse demanded. "Get her; there's a bounty!" All three of them charged down the hall, Borse lagging under the weight of his heavier armor. This put him at the back of the group, so that when they turned the corner – and yes, that was Princess Eirika they were chasing – he was the one Seth tackled from behind and bore down onto the stone floor.
Teak was gratified to see that the princess was unarmed, but this wasn't quite the gift he expected it to be. "If you" – her first high kick connected with a sound like someone beating a steak with an oar – "did anything" – the second one stunned him into dropping his sword – "to my brother" – the third dropped him like a one-legged tripod – "then I'll be back for more," she informed him.
Flynn rushed Seth, who was too busy to be subtle and so brought his sword up in a wide slash across the man's torso. That was him down, but Borse shoved upwards and threw the paladin off, rising to his feet to face Eirika. She had taken up Teak's unwieldy blade, but it couldn't be used well enough in the enclosed space to do anything more than score the mercenary's armor. He laughed at Eirika's attempts until she made the obvious conclusion, and swung at his head. Borse ducked and would have counterthrust viciously, except that his bent posture opened a gap between two back plates, and Seth was much faster than he.
"Thanks," said Eirika, glad that there was no carpet underfoot to be stained. "What about the third?"
"It looks like he'll be down for some hours – let us find the king," said Seth, barely finishing his sentence before the princess was away down the hall. She had dropped the giant sword, but sheer cold fury at anyone hostile to her brother made Eirika terrifying enough on her own. She threw open the door, fairly certain that, whatever was happening in the royal chambers, it wasn't private.
She froze for a moment, as shock and fears she hadn't let herself imagine collided at the point marked 'transcendent vengeance'. If she hadn't heard Franz's description, she would have thought Ephraim had requisitioned a marvellously crafted statue of a sleeping Tana. She lay on the floor, apparently knocked off her feet by some assault, and her eyes were wide with surprise.
"Tana…"
"The king," said Seth, arriving behind her. He darted across the room, looked in one door, slammed it shut –carefully– and ran to the next, where he gasped. Eirika didn't think Seth had ever gasped before in his entire life, but he had the lungs for it. She leaned past him to see Ephraim, crumpled and leaning against the side of the bed. Petrified.
And sitting in an ornate chair against the wall, Rennac looked up from sharpening his daggers. "At last, you're here!" he said, sounding relieved. "There isn't much time, and it's quite complicated, so listen – you have to get Sieglinde, quickly – there's a summoner in the castle, a powerful one, he's created some kind of artefact – he's looking for the Sacred Stone – I've managed to lure him here, but undoing all this is going to be difficult, he's got help."
"Rennac, what are you talking about?" Eirika interjected. "Who has been turning everyone to stone? And how did they get all those soldiers inside the castle?"
"I can only answer so many questions at a time, princess," said Rennac. "But you can start by turning around."
They did turn, in time to see the dark power welling up behind them. Seth and Eirika attempted to leap away, but the blast of Flux still sent them sprawling across the room.
"He was talking about me," said the summoner. "A good story, Rennac."
"Inventing things on the spot is a specialty of mine," the rogue agreed as the fallen warriors groaned. "Does it pay extra?"
Franz charged at maximum speed through the forest, not having to urge Forde's horse at all. He was more concerned with directing the steed's breakneck gallop along a safe path, because the Gwyllgi fifty feet behind them didn't seem to be tiring in the slightest, and all three of its heads looked hungry. Franz had been able to deal with the pair of mauthe doogs when he stumbled across them exiting their bramble-thicket den, but their stronger form was out of the question for a lone cavalier.
Plans, plans, you came up with a good one for tricking those mercenaries a few hours ago, now just think of one that can stop a ravenous conglomeration of pure evil. He had already tried throwing his stolen heavy helmet at his pursuer. The Gwyllgi had eaten it.
He tried to remember what Lute had said about monster hunting habits. It had been interspersed with commentary on how brilliant she was, so Franz had to filter through quite a lot of memory to find anything important. "…Created unnaturally, and so don't behave like ordinary predators… only attack animals when humans aren't available… of course, since I'm exceptionally talented and can read over forty dead languages… they're very stubborn about catching prey after seeing it… so snuggly; I really should bring my genius to bear on domesticating them…"
At the next sturdy low branch the horse sped underneath, Franz reached up and caught it, letting his forward momentum help him clamber up on top. The horse kept running, not aware that the Gwyllgi was a committed example of what someone who had spent too much time around Lute might call a 'humanitarian' (in the same sense that Queen Tana had declared herself a vegetarian). The Gwyllgi arrived seconds later, leaping high enough to scratch at the branch, but its wolfish shape was not suited to clambering, and Franz was able to kick it away easily.
He was, in a way, now in a much safer position, but it was a bit of a stalemate as far as being rent limb from limb was concerned. He considered hacking off a smaller branch and seeing if the old 'Fetch!' trick would work, but Franz guessed that, at best, only one of the three heads might be distracted. Surely there had to be some way of turning those multiple heads to a disadvantage… but monsters didn't argue, so there was no chance of stirring up a disagreement between them, was there?
Oh. Of course there was.
The Gwyllgi stood underneath the branch, staring up at Franz, who was crouched at the thickest point, where it met with the tree. An entire chorus of simmering growls was rising up to him in a perfect harmony of terror, but knights tend to become knights because they have an odd response to terror – metaphorically, a tendency to run up to it and kick it in the shins.
Franz leapt, grabbing the end of the branch as it passed more-or-less underneath him, and swung down in a slow arc as the wood creaked and bent. The monster wolf seemed paralysed as its left and right heads appeared to strain to split off. Both desperately wanted to bite, but more importantly, both desperately wanted to bite first, and disagreed on which way to turn. Franz turned his fall into an awkward sort of drop-kick that knocked the central head into the tree-trunk, and started swinging as soon as he had regained his footing.
It went well until he stabbed through the left head's neck, killing that part of the monster. With only two remaining, the Gwyllgi was able to resolve its differences easily, and immediately spun to slash at him with fangs and cruel claws. Franz staggered back, clutching at the gashes on his sword arm. He had healing salves in the packs on the horse, but there was no chance of finding Forde's steed with this single-minded beast after him…
Over the thunderous rumble of the monster's stereo growling, Franz heard a much sharper, staccato rhythm grow louder. The downside of being single-minded, of course, was that the Gwyllgi wasn't paying any attention to creatures other than Franz, right up until Forde's horse concussed it with trampling hooves. When his equine assistant had passed, the cavalier lunged in with a killing strike. The creature hissed, turned to ash, and crumbled.
Franz had barely had a chance to breathe when he heard more feet pounding the ground. "Who's there? Come on, I heard the scuffle, so you might as well show your… oh. …Sir Franz, isn't it?"
"Sergeant Faval!" Franz acknowledged. He looked between the instructor and Forde's horse, which was cropping a wild tuft of grass and looking as smug as horses are capable of looking. "…Did the horse lead you here?"
"Something like that, yeah. Found us just over that hill there. Just a moment," said the sergeant, half-twisting to look back the way he came. "My grandmother could march faster than you lot! Pick up the pace, recruits!" Faval turned back to Franz. "News from Renais, is there?"
"Lots," said Franz sighing, "and not nearly enough. Let me explain."
Eirika rose to something like a sitting position, rubbing her head where it had hit a writing desk. Rennac was reclining lazily in his chair, while the strange summoner had assumed an imperious position, with his robes folded into his crossed arms. "It's far too late to resist, princess. That was always the brilliance of my plan – you were guaranteed never to know anything until it was far too late. Now, are you ready to surrender? I believe it's the tradition for the victor to be irritatingly condescending in his implausible generosity."
"I expect I have a great deal more experience in that than you do," said Eirika, reaching under Ephraim's bed. Seth, it appeared, was pretending to be less conscious than he was – at least, she hoped he was acting. Either way, Eirika had just laid her hand on an emergency rapier, and lunged at the summoner. He didn't flinch, and Eirika wondered why, until Rennac struck with mongoose speed and deflected the thrust with a pair of curved daggers. Baffled by the idea of fighting a former ally, Eirika wasn't sure what to do with him – somehow killing, even if she could manage it, would be unsatisfying.
She settled for disarming the rogue, but that was exactly what Rennac obviously intended to avoid, and with his blades constantly whirling in blurred tandem, it was impossible to pick a target that would still be there when she struck. The princess pushed the offensive, backing him up against the wall, and it was going well until another spell of Flux burst from the floor beneath her. Eirika collapsed with a shout, and every muscle seemed to catch fire as she tried to use it.
"This is too late," said the summoner, striding across the room to look down on her. "Tell me where the secret chamber is; I demand it! Carcino will have the last Sacred Stone!"
Seth chose that moment to deliver a hook punch to the back of the summoner's head, causing him to sprawl forward into Rennac – hopefully getting stabbed in the process. Still shaking the dark aftereffects out of his head, Seth lifted Eirika to her feet and nearly dragged her out of the room. Dark magic was, sometimes literally, hell to fight, especially in close quarters with a rogue for a bodyguard. He didn't like leaving King Ephraim behind, but Eirika was clearly in greater danger, and they had an opening to escape…
At least, it appeared to be clear until they reached the central royal chamber, where something was lurking near Tana. No, lurking wasn't the right word. No half-snake demon the size of a young dragon could lurk well in a room where its slithering 'hair' touched the ceiling. It was a Gorgon, and it was huge. The creature's pincer hands clicked irritably as Seth skidded to a halt. It wasn't quite between them and the door, but they would have to pass through what might be called merciless-savaging-range to get out.
"Ah, you've met my loyal pet," said the summoner, idly pulling one of Rennac's daggers out of his chest and casting it aside. There was no wound left behind that Seth could see. "I would advise you not to annoy her, but… well, so few things don't annoy Gorgons, and she has a particular grudge against everyone in the world but me."
Hsshhhh… The Gorgon seemed almost confused by Seth's lack of motion; perhaps she wondered why he wasn't running, considering that he hadn't felt the power of Stone yet. He pulled Eirika closer.
"Princess. You must escape and lead the knights to victory," he whispered to her.
"I won't leave you here," Eirika snapped back, sounding affronted by the suggestion.
Seth pulled again, nearly forcing her to face him. "I cannot let myself fail you… my lady." He stared into her eyes until his entire world was as black as night, limned with oceanic blue.
She saw it, and nearly gasped.
"Seth–"
"Go!" he shouted, pushing her toward the door and drawing his sword against the Gorgon. Starting simply, Seth swung his blade around in a high, meteoric slash. Eirika stumbled as her wish to stay and fight collided with the knowledge that Seth was right, and she darted out before the next blast of Flux could catch her in the doorway. Knowing that she was safe, a weight rose from Seth's mind, and he sank into the battle for the sake of the battle. He could handle a single monster, despite its unusual power…
His powerful blows knocked the creature's guarding arms to either side, leaving one of its hearts open to a good piercing. Uncooperatively, the blade's edge clattered ineffectively across the Gorgon's dark scales. And neither the summoner nor Rennac were making any move against him. Well, his main objective had been completed, and life was getting too complicated anyway…
The Gorgon's eyes flared with blackness.
Crrrack!
"The next group east of here in under Sergeant Dominick," said Faval, looking at the sun to determine just which direction east was in the hilly forest. "We'll find him tonight, and we'll both go looking for the next ones… all the knights should be gathering near Castle Renais by nightfall tomorrow – morning at the latest."
"I'll ride the other way, but… more than a day before we're ready to take back the castle?" Franz asked, looking pained.
"Nothing to be done for it," said Faval. "I've got faith that the Princess and the King can hold their own for that long." It hadn't occurred to him, or Franz, that traitorous rogues could be involved.
"…Right. Well, if you can spare anyone, I wouldn't mind backup," said Franz, frowning.
"Amelia!" Faval shouted, turning to find that she was already standing just behind him. "Ah. You're the biggest punch in the smallest packaging; you're assigned to Sir Franz. Oh, she's got a leg injury."
"Doesn't matter on horseback anyway," Franz insisted, waving the concern away. "…Hi, Amelia."
"Sir Franz," she said, grinning.
Sergeant Faval got the impression that he had just done something he wouldn't have approved of, if only he had any idea what he was doing. Still, he formed up the rest of the group and started them on a fast march to the east, leaving the cavalier and recruit to pick their own direction.
"There wasn't anyone else badly injured, was there?" asked Franz, digging through his saddlebags.
Narshen and company flashed through her mind. "Not badly, no," she decided. "Certainly nothing debilitating except to really stupid egotism."
"…Sounds like you've been having fun," said Franz, producing an Elixir. "I just wouldn't want to have kept this a secret if anyone else needed it. Hold still." He soaked a bandage with a dose of the potion, and started tying it around her ankle.
"What's your plan?" asked Amelia. "Are we taking the groups in the west?"
"There aren't many knights out there," said Franz. "Anyway, I thought we could just speed things up a bit, since I doubt even the Demon King could stop Sergeant Faval from gathering the army now that he knows what's at stake."
"Speed things up?"
"Yeah."
"As in…"
"I thought we'd head back to Castle Renais and retake it ourselves."
Amelia contemplated this for a moment. "Sounds good. This bandage should soak in and fix everything up by the time we get there?"
"That's the plan," Franz agreed, helping Amelia to her feet. "Want some help onto the horse?"
"Um… yeah. …Franz?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think either of us is going to die before this battle's over?
The cavalier recoiled in shock, which then faltered and faded into an uncertain concern. "Uh… well, no. Of course not."
Amelia sighed. "Then I don't really have an excuse for this."
She kissed him.
For several moments afterwards, Franz stared blankly ahead, looking like a man witness to miracles. Eventually he managed to focus on Amelia again. She was smiling at him in a way he had become familiar with on their original quest: it meant he had just done something that, for reasons he couldn't comprehend, counted as cute in her judgment. "…I think that doesn't require an excuse. Um… ever."
"Shall we ride?"
The next coherent thought Franz had didn't arrive until he was already riding north again, Amelia sitting in front of him with her lance in hand, ready to obliterate any monsters that came their way. It was, somewhat shockingly, not about her, but Castle Renais and the enemy waiting for them. They are so going to lose.