Keiji is dispatched alongside a small force of Nohrian soldiers to free the village of Redshire.
Redshire
Night has fallen and camp has been erected by the roadside.
You sit with Flora by a small campfire, away from most of the Nohrians. Charlotte's tent however is right next to the one Camilla had prepared for the two of you. Doubtless, your blonde escort is under orders to keep a close eye such important 'guests'. And a close eye she keeps too.
The blonde lassie sits on a rickety wooden stool polishing her axe not thirty feet away. What's more, you notice a slight look of envy about her. A look that wasn't there until just now, when Flora looped her arm through yours and rested her head against your shoulder. While subtle, days at the lady fighter's side have sharpened your awareness to such quirks. The odd scowl here. The occasional sinister stare there.
You're more concerned about Flora right now, however. Fixated upon the fire, she looks a million miles away from the rest of the world.
Sighing, the maid looks from the crackling flames to you. "Why are you doing this, Keiji...?" she asks glumly.
Exhaling a long day's fatigue, you look skyward. It's too cloudy to see the moon tonight. "I don't quite follow, I'm afraid."
"Handing yourself over to them," Flora spells out. "And for me of all people..."
An answer you've reached during your sparse but no less meaningful time under Camilla's 'care'. "Because you deserve a second chance, Flora. A chance I know Corrin will give to you. And also for myself, too," you add. "So I might find answers to some troublesome burdens."
You recall Charlotte's words on the road to Bleakvale. "...you didn't just just surrender to Camilla because you had to. You did it for yourself, because you wan't more than what you have; or what youve been given."
Such words resonate with you now, for they represent the tiny resentful spark that has flicked within you for years. Since the day when you and Hana were subjected to horrors unspeakable. What's more, Camilla's having alluded to a better world has your attention.
"A part of me is content with this," you continue, lowering your eyes to the fire, "... and that same part of me wants to witness Camilla's actions more than words can express. So I may know if there is weight to the charitable acts I beheld while in Bleakvale."
"When you and Charlotte visited the tavern there, you mean?" Flora follows, you having told her about yesterday's happenings earlier.
Minus your making love to Charlotte, of course.
"Right," you answer with a nod. "And to see if Camilla truly intends to help her people beyond token gestures."
"A noble sentiment, Keiji. But still..." Flora looks into you, her eyes trembling with feeling. "You offering yourself as tribute for my safety, if only in part; it just doesn't sit right with me. I got you into this whole mess: I should be the one who gets you out of it."
Your heartbeat rises. A token to Flora's kindness; to her genuine remorse.
"And I'm grateful for your wanting to," you say kindly. Leaning close, you kiss the maid's forehead in thanks. Her cheeks pinken. "However, you've not the means to do so. I don't imagine Camilla trusts you: not after renewing your loyalties to Hoshido as you have. I therefore cannot let you risk yourself, not without certainty of your safety. Which is something we don't have; not without first offering myself in your pace."
Tears well in Flora's eyes and she smiles so very sadly. "...But I don't understand. How, after everything I put you through, can you still be so kind to me?" She chokes out a sob. Then she unloops her arm from yours and winds both around your waist. "...I don't deserve this... I don't deserve you...! And all of this mess only makes me feel lousier with myself. Because I know Sister adores you... and Lady Corrin too."
Felicia's darling smile flashes through thoughts. The memory warms you.
"And it's for your sister that you must return home safely," you reason. "It falls to you to ensure she is delivered into my mother's care. And that besides, she will need you next to her as she's healed: because I certainly don't see her surrendering her role as Corrin's protector, one eye or no."
Flora smiles thinly. Then she chuckles softly. "...You're right about Sister. She won't give up. Not on me or you, and especially not Lady Corrin. She and I are different like that. Felicia is pure; she wears her heart on her sleeve in everything." Flora sighs deeply. "I wish I could be more like her, honestly. That I could follow my heart and pursue that which I desire without worries of duty nor obligation."
A simple and honest desire, especially as you've likewise felt trapped by fears and conflicts for a very long time.
"And what, if you could embrace those desires, would you do?" you ask.
"I'd run," Flora confesses at a whisper, squeezing you in her arms and burying her face against your chest. "...I'd have you take me as your lover; then I'd elope with you to some small town in Nohr's western mountains, or neutral Izumo." Looking up at you, the maid's eyes glint affectionately. "Then I'd tell you to forget about this damned war; to throw away all the pain and shame eating away at you. We'd live in peace - the two of us - together..."
Your heart swells at the notion of living in peace - of knowing a world without conflict. To live a life with Flora as your lover would be far from displeasing.
"And suppose we could; suppose we ran," you continue gently, clinging adoringly to the fantastical idea, "...would you ever look back?"
"Never," Flora answers resolutely. "I'd live every day with joy and gratitude in my heart, all while never looking to my old life."
"And would you desire a family?"
"Definitely," Flora replies without hesitation. "A little girl, if the gods graced me with such a blessing. And I would name her Ophelia"
You frown with mock hurt. "And here I'd hoped you'd honor me with a son," you chuckle.
"Oh I'd have a second child if you wished it, though I'd honestly pray for twins from the start."
A curious desire, although you're fairly certain as to the reason. "So they could grow up like yourself and Felicia did, I imagine?""
"Exactly," Flora confirms with a tender undertone. "Having a twin is a wonderful thing," the maid reflects with a brightened smile. "You share a special bond quite unlike any other. Goodness, Sister and I even used to speak in our own made up riddles when we were little. And we even shared a crush on the same boy once," she adds with girlish hum, fluttering her lashes. "And what a strapping young gentleman he turned out to be."
You'll play along with Flora's little game. For now. "Oh really...?"
Flora inches her face nearer yours. "Really. And I'll let you into a little secret, too."
And closer. "I'm all ears, milady."
And closer still. "Well, you see... she and I recently made a promise to one-another; a promise to protect this young man should he remember us."
"Then it seems this young man is certainly lucky, having two such wonderful women in his life."
"I would say so, yes," Felicia's sister agrees, pressing her mouth to yours.
"Ahem!" Charlotte clears her throat loudly. Flora flinches and tears her lips from yours, meekly inching back.
Looking to the blonde girl sitting across from you, you narrow your eyes. "...Is there a problem, Miss Charlotte?" you ask with a touch of irritation.
"Not a one," the lady brawler answers snidely, scowling as she stands from her stool. "But I ain't being kept up all night listening to the sound of two of you shagging, that's for damn sure." The mere talk of sex causes Flora to shiver within your embrace.
"And supposing we wanted to do just that," you pose in icy suggestion, "would that be any concern of yours?"
"No it wouldn't," Charlotte snarls, gritting her teeth. She turns her back to you, her shoulders tensed with anger. "...But it's only fair you afford me a decent sleep, especially with how late we stayed up last night, dontcha think?" She glances back and leers at you hurtfully. Then she thunders off to her tent.
Peeling herself from you thereafter, Flora stands and brushes herself down. Her usually pale face is washed a furious red "...I'm going to bed, too," she utters shyly. With that, she steps over your outstretched legs and hurries for the tent. You keep your eyes fixated on the girl's back as she goes.
The maid pauses after opening the tent's flap, her balled hand scrunching the fabric. "And here I'd wondered all day why you smelled faintly of her perfume, Keiji," Flora utters, her tone somewhat dour. "...You've certainly a wounded; misguided heart concerning matters of romance," she sighs. Glancing back thereafter, the lassie flashes you a rainy smile. "And thought I don't entirely appreciate such things, I don't fault you for them, given what I know of you."
You smile weakly, honestly grateful for her consideration.
"Anyway," Flora continues, "don't stay up too late, you hear? Should I awaken in the night to find you out here, I'll drag you inside," she tells you sternly. "I won't have you catching cold; Sister would never forgive me if I did." Concerns imparted, Felicia's sister enters the tent.
Alone now, you look again to the fire's dancing orange embers.
"Thank you, Miss Flora..."
For all of your flaws, she still cares for you deeply.
The noon sun stands high in the sky, a rare pleasure for gloomy Nohr. You however cannot enjoy its soothing warmth in peace and quiet.
Your first test begins now.
You stand among thirty or so Nohrian soldiers. Camilla's camp lies at your back and a wide-open road to your front. Belted to your hip once more is your father's katana. How good it feels to have the weapon back in your care again, if only for the purpose of this noble task.
Charlotte handpicked each member of this fighting force throughout the morning. Among their number are well-built axemen and spearmen both; they account for twenty of your overall group, give or take. Supporting from the rear are half a dozen bowmen with quivers strapped to their backs. Finally and perhaps most importantly, healers. The core of any fighting force big or small, Charlotte opted to bring four with her. When including yourself, Charlotte and a standard-bearer, the total stands at a modest but not unimpressive thirty-three.
"Just down the road from here is Redshire," Charlotte tells the battlegroup, pointing northward. The village is a speck in the distance. "Lady Camilla's scouts say we're to expect somewhere between forty to fifty bandits; that's more than enough to keep a few dozen farming families like those in the village under the boot. But what these half-brained louts won't be expecting is a visit from trained soldiers commanded by the princess."
Charlotte's approximation of the situation earns a few proud chuckles from her comrades.
"A question if I may, Miss Charlotte," you speak up, raising your hand.
"What is it?" asks the blonde, turning around.
You look over the troops among you, your comrades for this task.
"I notice we've none skilled in the dark arts among our number," you observe. Nohr being respected and feared for its dark magic as Hoshido is for its diviners, you expected to see at least one or two added to the group. For offensive support if nothing else.
"That's right, we don't," Charlotte answers flatly. "And that's because we won't need any," she adds confidently. "Because for one, bandits around the countryside usually ain't bright enough to host mages among their number. And second, I ain't one to keep spell flingers close; the take too much protecting. That and they get in the way more times than not."
The lady fighter's way of thinking with this isn't too sharp, you feel. "Then if bandits rarely use mages, would it not make more sense for us to do just that? A volley of fireballs before crossing swords should trim their numbers down. Not to mention it would certainly hurt their morale."
"And who made you tactician for this little job, huh?" Charlotte grumbles. "Last I checked you ain't one for that kinda thing."
"You're right, I'm no strategist. And nor do I proclaim to be." You fold your arms.
"Then what makes you sure it's a good idea?" Charlotte questions sharply, a brow raised.
Your answer is a simple one. "Battle experience. I've little time for books, beyond those containing the philosophies of swordsmanship, of course. That said, a survivor of many battles learns the battlefield's flow in earnest. And one thing I can say for certain is this: a Hoshidan samurai's worst nightmares when facing down a Nohrian force is not its axemen or spearmen. Our masters impart knowledge from youth to counter frontline fighters like yourselves."
Your remark earns a dark chuckle from one of the soldiers to your left. A towering wall of a man with a shaved head and arms not unlike tree trunks. "I'm thinkin' we test those words, Hoshidan," he says smugly. "If yer man enough for it, that is."
"Shut it, Bradley!" Charlotte barks, hands on her hips and glaring. "Now's not the time for dick flexing! You wanna fight? Do it back at camp!"
Bradley scoffs and lowers his arms to his sides, falling back into line. "Whatever you say, Charlotte."
"Wise choice," the lady leader hums coldly, smirking. Situation defused, she looks again to you. "Now, get to the damn point already, Keiji!"
You nod. "Very well. My point is this: a samurai's largest fears on the battlefield are twofold - Nohr's ruthless cavalry being the first. The second are your country's mages. Fighting on the frontlines is evermore stressful when sidestepping fireballs and dodging between cracks of lighting."
"So what then, you're suggesting we bring a mage with us?"
"Correct. Though the choice of whom is yours to make, naturally."
"...Fine, if it'll shut you up," Charlotte agrees. Tapping a finger to her chin, she ponders. "But who to pick? Hmm..."
"How about Elena?" Bradley suggests with a sharp snap of his chunky fingers. "The gal certainly knows how to whip up a fireball. for one. And she were sure as hell all over Koji the other night when he were drunk," the fighter adds, thumping your bicep.
You rub your aching arm. "It's Keiji," you correct him. "And that besides, just a moment ago you desired a fight."
"And I still do," Bradley confirms with a toothy grin. "After all, Camilla wouldn't have ordered you come with us unless you were half-decent."
"How very kind," you mumble.
"Do I hear folks talkin' about me?" calls a lassie with common-born flare out from behind. The group turn in the direction of the voice's origin.
Jogging down the path (and wheezing as she goes) is a woman a few years your younger, adorned in raggy dark blue robes. You recall hazy flashes of drinking and chatting with her while at Camilla's Ice Tribe encampment. Or to be precise, the girl was half-drunk and sitting in your lap. What's more, you recall her having a filthy but no less immense sense of humor. Something that almost had the girl whisking you off to her bed, had Charlotte not intervened.
Mages are usually slim bookish sorts. Not this girl. She's well-built for lass - broad and chunky. Her face is wide and dusted with freckles, and she sports a fair complexion with a strong jaw. Thick and scraggly orange curls spill from the sides of her pointed mage hat.
"We were as it just so happens, Elena," Charlotte tells the mage, her gaze sharpening. "Still, I don't recall asking for your help."
"Well yer gettin' it anyway," she fires back tomboyish flare.
"Oh really...?"
"Damn right!" Elena insists, smiling with wonky (but pearly clean) teeth. "My uncle's livin' in Redshire these days, shacked up with some tart he rescued from a brothel some moons back. I've just gotta make sure he's alright, ya see. And 'specially since he's the only livin' family I've got nowadays." Her piece stated, the girl falls in to your left. "Don't you worry or nothin'! I'll be keepin' my arse right here with our new Hoshidan friend."
"I'm sure you will," Charlotte grumbles. Rolling her eyes, she groans deeply. "Fine, fine! But you'd better pull your weight, you hear me dammit?"
"Loud and clear there, Miss Charlotte," Elena pledges with a salute.
"Good, good. Then let's get this show on the road already." Charlotte looks ahead to the distant dot that is Redshire. "Alright!" she continues commandingly. "I want the standard bearer up front!" The young lad tasked with carrying the Nohrian banner hurries to the head of the small force as ordered.
"Is it time...?" he asks the lady fighter somewhat cautiously.
"Uh-huh." Charlotte nods. "Do it. Just as Lady Camilla wants. This is for the people after all."
"Right away." The standard-bearer then removes the usual Nohrian banner (baring a white emblem and black backdrop) and replaces it with one with its colors altered. The insignia is black and the its backing is instead a pristine white.
Charlotte raises a fist in honor of the new standard. "For Nohr's Light!" she announces with dedication.
"For Nohr's Light!" her comrades follow in unison.
"Alright then!" Charlotte keeps on, thumping her fists together. "Let's get our asses moving!"
The small garrison marches as ordered. You follow with Elena at your side.
What you just beheld has you muddled. The changed Nohrian standard is the same as the one you saw while visiting Bleakvale. It clearly has a meaning that you've as of yet unaware. You'll ask Elena.
"Might we talk for a moment?" you pose in a hushed tone, tapping Elena's broad shoulder.
"Sure thing!" the redhead answers, brushing a rogue auburn curl from her eyes. "What's on yer mind, Milord Keiji?"
"The standard, why is it different to the ones you Nohrians usually carry?"
"Cuz it's the start of something new 'n different," Elena explains. "...Best I not say too much more 'till the time's right though."
Whatever the meaning, it seems you'll find out soon enough. "Very well then. Thank you, Miss Elena."
"My pleasure!" the girl answers, slapping your back. "Anything else I can help ya with, seen as you're our guest 'n all?"
There is one thing, though small as it is. "Indeed. Might I know more about yourself, Miss Elena?"
"Course you can!" the lady mage answers gladly. "Although I'm guessin' you don't remember much of the other night, do you?"
You shake your head. "I'm afraid not, no. Wine's haze saw to that."
Elena sighs, appearing a touch gloomy. "Fair's fair." Then she cracks a small smirk. "We'll start again then, like brand new. I'm Elena," the redhead introduces herself. She raises her hat's brim afterward. "Born 'n raised in Windmire, I was. My ma was a whore and my daddy a conscript," she announces, flicking her fringe aside and sporting an eager smirk. "Want someone cursed? I'm good with curses... even the nasty kinds. I also go the mile in bed, if that's yer fancy."
"Keiji of Izami," you chuckle, warmed by the mage's humble spirit. "The son of a common-born swordsman from Hoshido."
"Pleasure's all mine, milord!" Elena chimes. "And I'll stick close to ya from here on too, since word has it you're a princess' retainer 'n all."
"My thanks, Miss Elena." You pat the girl's shoulder. "What's more..." A curious spark claims you. "I recall us getting rather close the other evening at the encampment. Might I ask how close exactly, if you don't mind refreshing my memory?"
"All I shall say is you're a fine kisser, Milord Keiji," Elena reveals quietly, winking. Then she stares at Charlotte's back and huffs. "But a certain somebody wouldn't let me enjoy yer fine Hoshidan company for too long."
As ever, wine got the better of you. A shameful twinge tugs at your heartstrings. "Do forgive me, Miss Elena."
"Not a problem!" the spellcaster snorts. "Ain't nothin' for you to be sorry for. Although..." Elena leans closer. "I'd be careful if I were you, milord. Though she don't look it, I hear Miss Charlotte's actually quite the protective sort once you win her over. Go steady, or she might just fall in love with you."
A warning you'll heed, though the notion of winning Charlotte's heart isn't something you're against. "Thank you for the warning, Miss Elena."
"Pleasure's all mine! And you know where to find me, should you ever want a drinking partner," she adds fondly.
An offer you'll keep close to heart.
"Alright then, we stick with the plan," Charlotte tells you and your comrades in a low voice. "The archers and Elena will remain out of sight. Then, once our mage friend flings the first fireball, our bows will follow with their first volley.
You stand just beyond Redshire's border: a dirt pathway a few hundred feet outside of the village proper. A path markered by a weathered signpost.
Villagers hurry into the safety of their homes at the sight of Charlotte's small liberation force. One even goes so far as to ring the village's church bell. Doing so causes a great many of the bandit occupiers to grab weapons and rush out to meet you in a hurry. Fifteen brutish thugs bar the path into the settlement soon thereafter. At the front of their formation is a burly bloke scrawled in messy ink tattoos and baring a crooked smile.
Size and muscle more often than not counts as a leadership quality among these sorts. He's probably the one running things.
"I'd fuck off if I were you," the tattooed bandit warns with a guttural chuckle, pulling an axe from behind his back. "This village right here is ours, both its lands and its people. Try taking it from us and we'll rip ya to shreds! Or there is another option," he follows with a darkened laugh.
"Such as?" Charlotte inquires with hands on her hips and a devilish scowl.
The ruffian's leader looks past Charlotte and yourself to the soldiers behind. "The men among ye can do the smart thing: hand over yer women. We could use a few good breeders in this shitsty!" he booms with laughter. "Gods, half the lassie's here be too young to put out!"
Your hand lowers to your katana's hilt. Narrowing your eyes, you glare daggers. These animals are just like Hans and his ilk.
"And supposing we don't?" you pose hatefully.
"Then we'll just take em anyway, and kill all of you fools for the trouble!"
"Whatever you say," Charlotte cuts in with a scoff. "Now, I ain't one for warnings, so I'd clear out now before we clear you out ourselves," the lady fighter advises. "If you don't? Well, let's just say it won't end well for you." She cracks her knuckles. "And I've been longing for a good fight for days now."
"Ha! Very funny," the bandit leader bursts into laughter. His lads copy him like good little underlings. Calming down soon after, the ink-scrawled oaf eyes Charlotte with heat and licks his lips. "Bet you won't be sayin' that after a few good beatings 'n a fat belly, wench."
"You wish!" Charlotte mocks.
"Wish? Who said anything about wishing?!" The leader raises his axe. "Lads, kill em! But keep as many of the women alive as ye-" A fireball whizzes in from the east and strikes the bandit head on. The spell quickly expands and swallows his whole body. Crumpling to his knees, he lets out a pitiful scream and rolls in the dirt. It doesn't take long for the ethereal fire to eat through him. Soon naught but a tiny, whimpering husk is left.
A gruesome signal for you and yours.
Charlotte raises an arm. "Now, everyone move!" she commands.
Everyone among your number spreads out into a looser formation and readies weapons.
Arrows fly in from the left and right. One of them strikes a bandit clean through the eye and kills him outright. Another gets lodged in a second man's stomach. He then falls to his knees and screams out in panic and pain. Another fireball collides with the man directly to his left seconds later: it ignites the bloke and has him rolling on the floor in a burning mess. Stunned, other bandits among the group break off and scatter in several directions.
"Damn you, bastards!" one of the remaining thugs screams. Raising his axe, he narrows his eyes upon Charlotte.
The buxom blonde is already preoccupied with chasing down another fleeing lout. You won't let anyone harm her.
"You'll be facing me, I'm afraid," you announce. Calm and collected, you bar the bandit's path.
"Out of my way, Hoshidan rat!" the cur growls in warning.
You shake your head without a further word.
"...Fine then. I'll cut through you instead!"
You simply nod. Then you wind your focus tight. In and out you breathe; the world around you slows as the bandit approaches. A second passes. Another. A third. In your mind's eye, you recall the fires and flames of the past. Innocent screams tarnish your thoughts: those of a massacre.
A massacre you won't see repeated. Not in another village, and not so long as you live.
The bandit turns his wrist outward and swings his blade.
You sidestep the clumsy attack with little effort. Then you swipe your katana's sharp across his abdomen in a single deft movement. Stumbling, the thug falls to his knees and clutches his hands to his middle. Blood seeps through his fingers and shock takes hold.
One second more. Two. Three. The bandit's face washes as white as a sheet. His hands then fall away from his middle and his eyes widen with panic. His fleshy pink innards hang out of his body as though disgusting parade ribbons. A sputter leaves him, followed by muted utterance.
Finished, he falls face-first into the dirt and scrunches his eyes shut.
"Light Dragon guide you," you whisper, returning your katana to its sheathe. Even the lowest of the low deserve peace in death.
The situation playing out around you appears to be in hand for the most part. Your comrades are chasing down and felling the remaining bandits with little issue. Chief among them is Charlotte. Brutish and deadly, she effortlessly lops off a ruffian's head in a single swing. Then she swings back and damn near cleaves another into two-half's with her beyond-impressive strength.
Your heartbeat honestly flutters at the sight. You whistle, impressed.
"Power and beauty combined," you utter.
A woman after your own heart. Much like Hana... if a little bit rougher around the edges.
What remains of the lowlife host scatters to the winds: the Nohrian cohort enters the village-proper a short time later. You stand at the group's front with Elena positioned loyally to your right. An orange fireball roaring in her palm, the auburn mage is ready to dispense further judgement.
"Run for your lives!" one of the remaining bandits screams as he turns tail and retreats. A particularly brave villager brandishing a wheat scythe soon cuts him down.
"Keep on em!" Charlotte orders, pulling her axe from a fallen foe with a bloodthirsty snarl.
Again the village bell rings out. A small militia gathers up in Redshire's main square in response to the summons. Comprised of young lads and lassies both, most among the warband brandish dulled old swords or well-used tools for labour.
"Alright, let's drive these bastards out!" an older bearded man at the group's front declares boldly, a self-appointed leader.
From there the ragtag band of scruffy fighters fan out and aid Charlotte's soldiers in chasing down and removing any ruffians they find. One villager in particular outright overpowers a bandit and mangles the fellow with his own mace. You likewise help another (a scrappy young lad with a wooden mallet) chase down and vanquish a brawny axeman who tries slipping out through a barn with a pouch of silver coins amidst the chaos.
Archers lying in wait outside soon pick off any bandits who actually make it out of Redshire itself. The last enemy falls to an arrow through the back soon after. Silence follows. Then an almighty cheer rings out across Redshire for all to hear.
Tis truly a blessing to have saved an innocent village for once. You're full to bursting with satisfaction at the sight of such grateful townsfolk, and so you lean up against a nearby farmhouse and watch the celebrations in earnest.
"To have done the right by these people feels nice," you tell yourself at a whisper. If only you had done the same in Okashi that fateful day.
Charlotte's standard-bearer rushes into the village square under the escort of two bowmen. He stabs the pole carrying his banner into the ground by the village's well so that it flies proudly for all to see. A sign of change too, if what Elena told you is anything to go by.
After a short time the cheers from villagers subside. Their militia leader meets Charlotte by the well.
"I can't thank you enough for freeing us like this, Miss Warrior," the bearded gent says with a respectful bow. "For weeks now we've petitioned aid from the royal capital, but nobody came. Pray tell good lady; are you here on behalf of His Majesty?"
"Nuh-uh, I can't say I am." Charlotte shakes her head.
Her answer earns a raised brow and a confused look from the man. "Then who...?"
"I'm here at the behest of Lady Camilla. We're not under orders of the crown; I serve as a part of her personal host." The lady brawler gestures toward the standard on display beside the well. "Her Ladyship seeks to do right by her more humble subjects. This banner signifies as such."
Hanging his head, the aged man sighs sadly. "Then the king did not care to protect his loyal subjects..."
"No he did not. Lady Camilla seeks to change things however, as a guiding light for Nohr through these troubled times."
"I see." The bearded man raises his eyes. They shine now with devotion against the standard. "It appears we owe this day to Lady Camilla then."
"Indeed. And all the princess asks in return is for you to hold it close."
"And hold it close we shall!" the militia leader laughs warmly. He turns to face his people and throws a victorious fist into the air. "Let us give praise to our beloved princess; to our liberator. For Lady Camilla; for Nohr's Light!" he declares joyously.
"For Lady Camilla!" the other villagers likewise rejoice. "For Nohr's Light!"
You look from the celebrating townsfolk to the proudly flying standard. Your heart flutters excitedly.
"A cause for the people," you reflect with a gladdened smile. "A cause I can get behind."
"We did it, Keiji! We did it!" Elena cheers. No sooner than shifting your gaze are you struck by an orange blur! Leaping into your arms, the auburn girl throws her arms around your shoulders and wraps her thick legs around your lower back.
Stunned as you are by the leaping tackle-hug, the mage's spirit and energy have you beaming in but a moment.
"We most certainly did, Miss Elena," you answer, leaning against the tool shed to support another's weight.
"Damn right we did, milord!" Elena flashes a grin. "And here you are standing all on your own! Well, to the victor go the spoils!" Elena then puckers her lips and presses them to your cheek. Your heart hammers amidst the sudden (but not unwelcome) showing of affection.
A fine victory prize if you've ever had one.
Miss Elena is certainly a forthright lassie through and through.
Further appraisal of Redshire's condition has your heart sinking.
Never before have you encountered such hardship. Not while you were stationed in Hoshido at least.
Each was a tale you weren't prepared for.
Countless villagers recounted stories their few precious belongings being rounded up by the bandits and sold off corrupt traders under the ruffian's employ. Worse still, those among the humble populace who resisted were beaten black and blue. One unfortunate sir - a night watchman - had his daughter dragged off and set upon by a gang of the thugs. He told harrowing tales of her screams with tears in his eyes. Now the poor lass is with child.
Something else you weren't prepared for was Camilla's visit to the humble village.
Ringed by a half-dozen knights, the princess talks with a somewhat flustered Selena by the village hall.
"But milady, you being here under such thin guard is ill-advised," the redhead protests with a grumpy huff. "As your retainer it falls to me to ensure your protection! What's to say more bandits won't come, and in greater numbers than before?"
Camilla merely chuckles in light of her dilligent protector's concerns. "Worry not, my dearest Selena," she says, patting the younger lady's head. "Charlotte and her retinue have formed a watch around the village. We are quite secure for the moment."
"But still-"
"Hush now, dear." Camilla kisses Selena's forehead affectionately, as though a mother comforting her child.
Calmed by the gesture, Selena clutches a hand to her chest and bows her head. "Alright. But I'm not happy about this."
"Ire I shall accept, dear. Worry not though, for we shall not be here for much longer." Camilla turns to you. "Keiji, come here please."
You push off from your perch by a storage hut and join the princess. "Milady Camilla," you address her with a bow of the head.
"Raise your head, dear."
You do as asked.
"Now, I hear you helped liberate this place with the utmost bravery," the Nohrian royal continues.
"I did," you answer. "Because it was the right thing to do. People such as these..." You glance over your shoulder for a moment. The everyday folk are busy with work as though little has happened. One little girl feeds chickens, while a young lad walks a skinny goat down the path toward the outskirts of town. "...Those who cannot defend themselves don't deserve to suffer wrongdoings for simply being as such," you conclude with dedication.
"A noble sentiment indeed, Keiji," Camilla praises, patting your shoulder. "And one imparted by your Hoshidan upbringing, I'll wager."
"Moreso from my training as a samurai," you explain with a hint of pride. "My swordmaster sensei oftentimes highlighted the importance of those with strength at their disposal helping those who cannot help themselves." A teaching you've lived by, as often as you've stumbled in the pursuit of such strength.
Camilla smiles agreeably at your reasoning. "It sounds as though your master was-"
"Milady Camilla, tis truly a pleasure for one of such renowned beauty and personage to visit our humble town!" a man calls from behind most jovially. You look eastward in the voice's direction, as do Camilla and Selena. A bald man with a rounded face and lopsided glasses approaches. He sports patchwork brown trousers, and a white undershirt with buttons stretched to their limits by his large stomach. Two crudely armed young men militiamen walk at his sides.
"My name is Gantz, milady, the mayor of this little town," the man continues. Closing the gap, he bows before Camilla on hand and knee. His protectors follow. "And allow me to thank you from the bottom of your heart for all you have done for us."
"It was nothing, Mister Gantz," Camilla insists kindly, smiling brightly. "And please, stand. I'll not have you prostrating before me, not when I've merely done what is expected of me as a princess of these lands."
"But of course, milady," Gantz says, rising to his feet. He then turns to the banner of Nohr's Light, still flying proudly beside the well. "In truth, I had heard the rumours of an army helping those in need while brandishing a banner of white." The mayor scratches the back of his head and laughs heartily. "Had I known it was a force headed by you milady, why I would've sent some of our lads to bolster your numbers.
"Ah yes, this indeed proves there are at least some who care for the lots of those beyond Windmire's court. And speaking of which..." Gantz looks again to Camilla and taps an index to the side of his nose. "...I also hear whispers of change abrewing in several other villages such as this. They say folks in Bleakvale and Darkmarsh would prefer the embrace of a loving queen as opposed to a power-hungry king."
"Why I've simply no idea what you mean," Camilla hums, smirking.
"Of course not, milady. Of course not. Well, whatever the case, we've eight strong lads and two smart girlies who're happy to join your forces from here on.
"And I shall take them gladly," Camilla agrees, bowing her head. "Although, I have but a single request in exchange for my services."
"Name your price, Princess."
"Should followers of my father's eventually come to this place, I would have you tell them that the bandits simply grew tired and moved on. What's more, also kindly tell them that we came here to collect taxes for the war, as was expected of us. Taxes which you may of course, keep to aid in your rebuilding efforts."
Gantz brings an arm around his waist and bows most respectfully. "It shall be done, our Exalted Light. And again, thank you."
"Thank my not," Camilla replies modestly. "I am simply fulfilling my duties as your princess, Mister Gantz."
The village mayor leaves with his guards in step with the discussion concluded.
"Selena, Keiji," Camilla heeds you both. "Come now, we're leaving."
"As you command, milady," Selena answers with a bow.
"As you wish," you add, following the two women from a distance.
It is here and now in Redshire that Camilla's intent shines as though a beacon. By winning the hearts of the people, she seeks to erode her father's influence. Though whether or not she desires to take the final treasonous step, you cannot say. Her reasons for wanting Corrin yet elude you, also.
"Hmph," you smirk, your hand balling into a fist. "A royal willing to fight for her people," you contemplate in a low voice. "She would certainly be the first."
The rebellious flame within you again flickers. And it's becoming stronger.
To be continued...
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