Okay, to answer the inevitable question "Did you write all these chapters at once!", I will say NO. I just uploaded them and published them all at once. Thank me later. Another chapter (the seventh, or eighth if you count the prologue) may be a while in coming, depending on how well this story is received. Only a drunken golem will think that I own any part of Fire Emblem. Actually, a drunken golem would probably kill me...
Three: A Fateful Decision
"Father!" Roy burst through the doorway, running straight into his father's sheltering arms. Behind him, Lilina entered the chamber, looking for her father. Her eyes dimmed when there was no sign of his presence. Mikhail stood in the doorway. "Oh, Father, it was so horrible! There was an assassin on the parapet, and he shot at us! And I only just pushed Lilina and I out of the way in time, and–"
"Hush, Roy." Eliwood's normally fiery eyes now looked like the coals of a campfire, still just barely glowing in dawn's harsh light. But Eliwood's dawn was not of a peaceful day; it was a day of war. He look at Roy's face, pushing back the messy bangs that covered his son's face. "You need to be brave now, okay? I may not be able to comfort you in the days ahead, and you need to be able to deal with problems yourself." He let Roy back down on the ground and walked towards the door as Roy looked on, confused.
"You must be Lord Pent's representative, then?" Eliwood shook hands with Mikhail, sizing up Lord Pent's trusted student. He was fairly built, and strong looking for a magic-user. His face was unusually full of life, and his high cheekbones gave him a look of nobility and dignity. And yet, his eyes were so full of compassion. He would truly be a great ally, Eliwood could sense.
"Yes, your Majesty." Mikhail bowed, his cloak swishing on the marble floor. "I am Mikhail, Second Apprentice to his esteemed Count–"
"That will do, Mikhail. I know who you are here for." Eliwood's eyes sparked with mischief. Mikhail was taken aback by how youthful his majesty seemed, even though his appearances would mark him worse for the wear. "I...must thank you for saving my son..." Eliwood bowed. "And I am sure Marquess Ostia is thankful as well."
"Of course, your majesty. Lord Pent's spies found out about the plan only a week ago. My escorts and I hurried to intercept the assassin, but he had left the inn at Saracept prior to our arrival. Luckily, the innkeeper–"
Eliwood sighed and shook his head. This one was a little too overzealous, perhaps. "I thank you for the account, but I have little time for it. The Council of Elders is holding an emergency meeting in minutes, and it is sure to be a struggle." Eliwood gestured to Mikhail, and the mage followed the Marquess down the hall. Eliwood spoke to a servant, who sent Roy and Lilina to their chambers upstairs. Then they continued their walk. "I am not sure how much you grasp of politics–"
"I have sat on the Etrurian Council of Sages for Lord Pent on several occasions."
"Well then, you must understand how corrupt it all is. I hate it myself, but I must answer to them still." Eliwood laughed bitterly. "I wouldn't wish my job on anyone, even my son."
"I know what you mean, sir," Mikhail said, even though he didn't, completely.
Eliwood smiled and started to speak, but was interrupted by a court person. "Your majesty, the council has assembled and is awaiting you in the chamber." The courtier grabbed a cloak out from under his arm and threw it over Eliwood, letting two servants clasp it. He then handed Eliwood a huge sword. Mikhail marveled at it; it seemed to burn with an eternal flame, even though there was no heat, nor were there flames. He breathed in a gasp as he realized that he was looking at Durandal, the legendary, dragon-slaying sword of Roland.
Eliwood touched it reverently, then put it in it's scabbard and clasped it to his belt. Then, putting on an air of authority, he threw open the door to the council chamber.
The giant, circular room was home to many oaken desks, all of which were in use by two or three people each. The members of Eliwood's council, Mikhail bemusedly observed, were dressed in outlandish fashions, wearing thick robes of furs and hats adorned with claws of ferret and peacock feathers. Mikhail had to suppress a chuckle. The Council of Sages in Etruria was so blandly simple, and yet–he realized now–so elegant.
Eliwood sat in a marble chair above the council, his red-violet robes cascading down the white marble like a river of cooling lava. Mikhail, as an honored guest, was brought a chair, which he thankfully sat down in. This was not, Mikhail came to realize, the illustrious Lycian League. Rather, it was the Pheraen courts.
"Let this session of the Council of Pheraen Elders begin." Eliwood said, watching the court recorder with amusement as he willed his old, wrinkled hands to write in absurd shorthand.
"Your Majesty, with all due respect, this summoning of the council is absurd!" One of the men in the back stood up, rattling his hand like a saber–which he had obviously never held in his life–at Eliwood.
"I quite agree, Sir Marchond. But it was the Citizen's Guild and Army Spies Guild members that called this meeting. Let us see what they have to say before you blame me, hmm?" Eliwood glared at the lord, and lord sat down in a huff.
Presently a gentleman at the front of the chamber stood, unfurling a sheaf of parchment as he cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, we have called this meeting to address our concerns about the state of the kingdom. There have been..." he hesitated, as if he were about to swear in public, "..rumors, that war is brewing with Bern." His eyes raised above the line of his spectacles. "With all due respect, sir, is this any time to start a war? We barely got through the drought this summer without an impeachment hearing, and now you want us to go to war with Bern, the military capital of ?" The lord's words seemed to echo with the rest of the council, and there were murmurs of agreement throughout the chamber.
"I agree completely, Sir Channing, but I am afraid it cannot be avoided." Eliwood nodded to a servant, who left through a side door. He continued, "My most trusted informant just returned this morning with news that Bern, under the direction of General Murdock and one of King Zephiel's advisors, a man named Bearoth. He is here, and he will speak if you wish to hear from him."
The curtains rustled, and a figure stepped out of the shadows. The chamber gasped collectively, as he was dressed in the armor of a Bern soldier. "Forgive his disguise, council, he has not been given time to change since he arrived." Eliwood's reassurance kept the council in their seats. The spy lifted his helmet to reveal short, blonde hair and shiny eyes that oozed mischief. Mikhail was not fond of these type of people, but it was not his place to speak against this informant of Eliwood's.
Without introducing himself, the spy began his account. "A fortnight ago, I disguised myself as a guard of General Murdock and was present in an audience with King Zephiel, the General, and a man called Bearoth." He spat the last name out, and most gathered that this was an unsavory character. "The armies of Bern are going to war now, though it sounds as though they have been preparing to do so for quite some time." Those words sunk into the audience, keeping them glued to their chairs. "They are recalling the Wyvern Riders and marching on the city of Shellak as we speak." He looked at Mikhail and continued, "They also have a group of magicians that will be leading an assault on Etruria. These magicians," he turned back to the audience, "are apparently under the direction of this Bearoth himself."
The council could barely contain their grief. Another war in twenty years. Some of them had been there during the Second Scouring, when Pherae had no king. A shudder went through those that remember those dark times.
A young lord in the corner stood and shouted, "What of Zephiel? Did he not order this war? Just a month ago there was talk of negotiations..."
"Unfortunately, Lord Keller, I myself witnessed the demise of those negotiations." Eliwood's voice was grave. I was attacked near Shellak by General Murdock, who no doubt reported to Zephiel that I had attacked him, which made it an act of war because it was on disputed territory."
Cries of outrage sounded throughout the hall. "What do you plan to do about this then, Marquess Pherae?"
"Hear me, council, for the record. I myself will see to the defense of the East, and hopefully I can make it to Bern Manse and right this myself."
"But, sir," one shouted, "you will be needed at the Lycian League!"
Eliwood thought about this for a moment, then responded. "My son will go in my stead."
More cries were heard.
"He's just a boy!" one said.
"Who will protect him?" several said.
"And what if you both die? What then!" Lord Channing had risen again. "We will have no heir to the throne, and Pherae will be left lawless!" Several agreeing shouts were heard after this.
"SILENCE!" Eliwood's voice boomed, silencing the Council. "My son is a fine young man. He is well prepared to go to the Lycian League. I will send some of my finest knights to protect him, as well as Lord Pent of Etruria's representative." Eliwood motioned to Mikhail, who stood. Then he continued, "As for your question, Lord Channing, the country would not be left lawless or without government! The Lycian League would take care of it's government, as it has done with Caelin."
The murmurs of dissent slowly died, until the chamber was silent. Eliwood rose. "Mikhail, Matthew?" Mikhail and the spy rose with him. "Council is adjourned." With that, Eliwood and company left the council chamber.
High up, from a hidden balcony behind a curtain, Roy and Lilina looked at each other in dreadful anticipation. They were going to Ostia.