Chapter 36: Rescue Operations
I've found in the past weeks, as battle lines drive further and further into Plegia, that the art of fighting can in many ways be compared to a sort of dance. Both require a proper awareness of your surroundings, understanding where to put your feet, and use of precise motions honed over time to perfection.
My partner in this particular dance has not been practicing his steps as I have. Their thrusts are sloppy, and my answering slash effortlessly tears through their armpit and leaves them unable to lift their blade. I step forward, bringing my hand axe into his neck almost as an afterthought as I pass him. My stomach twists unpleasantly at that last part, but I push past it with pure focus.
Another opponent has already stepped forward, attempting to bring a mace down on my shoulder. I hop to the side, letting the man overbalance, and take the opportunity to stab the soldier behind him in the back while they're preoccupied with Sully.
Sully snaps something irritably at me, upset that I interfered, but I pay her no mind, dragging my blade from the Plegian's back with a flourish that flicks blood into the face of the mace wielder. Thought he was closer than that; I was trying to blind him. Well, I guess the result is the same. As he cries in horror and attempts to wipe blood from his eyes, I stab him in the throat.
"How much longer?" I ask Sully, flicking the fresh blood on my blade to the ground.
"Not sure." Sully scowls, rushing past me to drive her spear into another Plegian soldier. "Lost track of the Prince a while ago."
"Damn. Me too." I sigh, deflecting a clumsy axe blow with my gauntlet. The man who swung the weapon stumbles at the hit, nearly crashing into me. I barely avoid the collision, grabbing the man by the shoulder and practically hurling him into a waiting Feroxi soldier.
She swings a battle axe at the poor bastard with enough force to cleave him in two, gives me a grin and an appreciative, "Nice pass!" Then rushes at the next unfortunate Plegian she sees before I can reply. I have yet to meet a Feroxi who hasn't mastered the steps to warfare. Excellent dancers the lot of them.
"Oi!" Sully calls, getting my attention. "I just saw Frederick give the signal! Chrom's pulling out now." I look in the direction she gestures and see Chrom and Frederick on the back foot, retreating as the Plegians attempt to interfere. They're actually pretty close. The chaos of open warfare can make it so hard to tell who's standing next to you.
I slip in next to him without too much effort. "You're being too obvious about this, Chrom." I say, falling in next to him. "At this rate the whole damn Plegian army is going to see you leave."
"Hard not to be obvious when every damn Plegian in the army is out to get me!" Chrom snarls, falling behind Frederick as he catches his breath.
I look over to the Plegians trying to get at us. They have a look in their eyes that mixes hunger, desperation, and rage. I suppose that's rather normal to see in a war, but with Chrom in front of them they do seem to be more intense than usual. Luckily for Chrom Robin already came up with a plan for dealing with this. "Eesh. Yeah, they're damn near frothing at the mouth. Here, push back with me for a second and then I'll make a distraction."
"What sort of distraction?" Chrom asks uneasily, looking my way.
The kind that's likely to set my mental health back a fair ways, unfortunately. "The violent, noisy kind." I grin, picking up a nearby mace and gesturing to a couple of nearby Feroxi. "Oi, you two! Back me up, I need to sell this!"
Chrom, the Feroxi, and I push forward slowly behind Frederick. Then, as the Plegian army starts to get riled up at the thought of killing the enemy commander, I let loose with the loudest bellow I can manage. The Feroxi back me up immediately, creating a yell in unison that manages to draw attention even on the noisy battlefield.
"IS THIS THE BEST YOU CAN MUSTER, PLEGIA?" I roar, swinging my mace out with enough force to collapse a soldier's helmet. The mace sticks, and the man is left stumbling about like a drunk, before falling at the feet of his allies with the handle pointed up in the air. He's as good as dead, but still twitches feebly on the ground. The sight is grotesque even by battlefield standards, and there's a small lull over those nearby as it sinks in. I draw my sword again, yelling with all the force I can while everyone is paying attention. "COME ON! GIVE ME A CHALLENGE! SURELY THERE IS AT LEAST ONE OF YOU WHO CAN POSE A CHALLENGE TO BEN THE BUTCHER!"
"This is your plan?" I hear Chrom ask incredulously from somewhere to my right. I let loose with the loudest and most evil laugh I can manage, pointing my sword the nearby Plegians in a sweeping gesture. To them it looks like a challenging stance. But to Chrom it serves as indication that I've caught the enemy's attention. He makes an understanding noise, and allows Frederick to herd him away from the front lines.
The two Feroxi seem to have caught on that the plan at this point is simply to go in as loud as possible, and back me up with furious war cries as I rush at the front lines swinging my sword like a maniac, screaming all the while.
"FIGHT ME, COWARDS! SPILL OUT YOUR ENTRAILS BEFORE ME! I WILL DRINK DEEP OF YOUR BLOOD ON THIS DAY! HAHAHAHAHAHA!" I bellow, basically trying to be as extra as I possibly can.
A part of me is thankful that Gaius is busy elsewhere at the moment. This is exactly the sort of thing that seems to freak him out, and I'd hate to imagine what he'd think of my nonsense.
The front lines around me start to collapse, both out of panic and because Frederick has sent two full platoons of our second line ahead to push with me. As the reinforcements charge ahead around me I lower my sword, and clap the two Feroxi who helped me on the shoulders. "Thank you for the assistance gentlemen! If you could be so kind as to keep yelling that kind of crazy shit to keep them freaked out, I think I'll be able to leave all this in your capable hands and move on to phase two!"
The man on my right stares blankly at me, caught off guard by the sudden change in demeanor, but the other seems to have understood what I was going for. "Go on, get out of here." He snorts and jostles me with an elbow, then runs off ahead, screaming all the while. "I WILL SCATTER YOUR BONES IN THE SAND, PLEGIAN WORMS!"
I duck back to rejoin Chrom, Frederick, and Sully, looking back in admiration as the Feroxi man charges into the Plegian army. "That man has a bright future ahead of him." I remark, wiping blood from my sword with a rag. I grin cheerfully at the others, mostly to hide the fact that I don't want to look at the gore on my blade right now.
"I'm surprised that worked so well." Chrom says, pulling his hood up to cover his distinctive hair and leading us to the back of the battle lines.
"I have it on good authority that the rumors about me have become, to use the technical term, completely fucking insane." I reply, jogging along gamely. "I like to imagine I'm becoming something of a boogeyman figure to the Plegian army."
"Do you really?" Frederick asks, sounding skeptical.
"Eh, I'll admit the rumors bothered me at first, but I think my perspective changed when the people trying to kill us started reacting to it." I shrug. "At this point I've come to the decision that it's pretty goddamn useful."
"Results certainly speak for themselves, don't they?" Sully laughs. "Can't wait until I've got a reputation like that!"
"Of course you can't." I roll my eyes good-naturedly. Though after a moment's reflection I find what little humor I can draw from the situation is rapidly fading. My tone is decidedly more somber when I continue. "Well, if you do try to get a reputation like mine, make sure you avoid the nasty side effects."
"What kind of side effects?" Sully asks.
I slow my pace for a moment and hold up my arm so she can see how intensely my hands are trembling. "I've managed to train myself out of shaking like this while actually hitting somebody, but once the focus drops this can go on for a while. There's also a shitload of nausea, though I'm getting better at not throwing up after a kill, as you can see."
The others slow their pace, staring in horror, and I have to prod them to keep moving. "We're on the clock people, keep walking. And quit looking at me like I'm terminally ill or something, it's annoying." More like mortifying. Or humiliating. But I don't see the point in guilting them over this.
"Is this the sort of awe she meant?" A treacherous part of my brain asks and is immediately shut the fuck down. That's striding confidently into actual fucked up thoughts, and I don't have the time or patience to fight my way out of my own head right now. No thinking about scars. No thinking about stares. No thinking about a slender hand resting against my chest as I stare so deeply into Cordelia's red eyes that I fear I may drown in them.
…I may have to address that last one after all this is over. That last one feels… significant.
But right now I am far! Too! Busy! I am about to perform the sort of absurdly over the top scheme that I have always saved for Dnd in the past. Except this is real life, and when I fuck up in this there is a lot more at risk than a couple of numbers on a sheet of paper. I will probably die! And Emmeryn will definitely die! And Henry will probably be just fine, which is every bit as dangerous!
Thankfully any pressure I may be displaying can be disguised as pressure from Robin's mission. So if I get a bit too worked up driving the others back to where the Shepherds are congregating, it won't be seen as anything suspicious.
I'm still feeling plenty of pressure regarding Robin's mission anyways, so that's not even a lie. Especially with all the extra steps we're having to go through. All the fighting I've done so far and we haven't even begun the actual rescue attempt yet! This is all the goddamn prelude, we're just going through all this shit so we can get to the actual fight! Because apparently in a proper war we don't get to just march into the courtyard and start the mission. There's all these extra inconveniences, like armies, to contend with.
Well, I suppose that's what Robin has all those strategies for. Including the ones that involve me acting like a crazy jackass on the front lines. Speaking of which…
Robin is waiting for us at the medical tents, along with most of the Shepherds. "You're back, excellent! Chrom, were you able to escape without much notice?"
"The plan went well, thanks to Ben putting on something of a performance." Frederick remarks dryly. "The battle lines where Chrom was fighting are in complete chaos. It will be a while before anyone realizes that we have left."
"Excellent!" Robin nods to Frederick, walking up to my side. "Are you alright?" He asks in a low voice.
"Well as can be expected." I reply quietly.
"I see." Robin sighs. "I'm sorry Ben. I wish I could have thought of something better, but the only ideas I had that were likely to work-"
"Would have taken too long to organize and direct, yes." I interrupt, nudging him with an elbow. "Drop it man, I heard this whole speech an hour ago. As well as last night, as well as three days ago when you first thought of it. I said I'd do it, so quit kicking yourself."
"I shouldn't have to rely on such desperate and stressful measures though!" Robin sighs, tugging at a lock of his hair. "I despise sacrificial tactics, even if the damage isn't physical."
"There's always going to be loss in war, Robin." I shake my head. "You can never remove it. Only minimize it. Now drop the damn subject before the others suspect something's up. As far as any of them are concerned this was just another case of me being a reckless moron again."
"You didn't tell them?"
"Chrom and Frederick don't like me prodding at my mental health any more than you do." I say, forcing a grin as I notice Frederick eyeing the two of us suspiciously. "And we need them both to trust you absolutely right now. You want to talk to them about this, do it after the battle is over. We have no time or energy to waste on doubts right now. Not between our head honchos. Now, laugh with me, like we just told a joke. Sir Frederick the Wary is starting to wonder why you look so unhappy."
He chuckles weakly in comparison to myself, but it works well enough. Frederick looks back to Chrom, preoccupying himself with keeping an eye over the agitated Prince.
"Robin, everything going well so far?" Flavia announces her arrival loudly, walking up to Robin and clapping him on the back. She gives me an easy going grin as well. "Heard you were raising hell on the front lines a minute ago."
"Just making use of that nickname your people gave me." I smirk back, with only a little bitterness. "Those Plegians really don't think much of butchers, it seems."
Flavia's grin falls at that, eyes darting towards the men and women coming up behind her. "I see." She says, looking suddenly irritable. "Well, good to hear you're making the most of it." Interestingly enough her bad mood seems not to be directed at me at all. Annoyed that some of her guard chose to deal with their problems with me by spreading gossip, perhaps? It did always strike me as a distinctly un-Feroxi thing to do.
"At any rate, now that you're here we should be ready to get moving." Robin says, hastily changing the subject. "Everything's ready on your end?"
Flavia looks back at Robin with a bemused expression. "Oh, we're ready alright. Basilio's eager to start the charge properly, and I've got my best and brightest here at your disposal." She leans in closer and continues in a whisper. "And that… other matter is taken care of."
The other matter is Chrom's decoy. Little more than a blue haired Feroxi man with a big fuck-off sword and a fake tattoo. By no means a close resemblance to the real person, but now that the fighting has begun it hardly needs to be; the chaos of battle will make it all but impossible to get a proper look. Chrom has been told nothing about a Feroxi taking his place on the front line of course; he would never approve of such a thing. It was something cooked up by Frederick, Flavia, and Robin to ensure the Plegians won't be ready for the next stage of our plan.
"Sounds like it's time for the briefing then." I nod, turning towards the other Shepherds and cupping my hands to my mouth. "OI, FALL IN! THE BRANIAC HAS SHIT TO SAY!"
"WELL IF ALL HE HAS TO SAY IS SHIT, I DON'T SEE WHY WE SHOULD BOTHER!" Sully yells back, to resounding laughter from the rest of the Shepherds as they move to congregate around the tactician.
"Thank you for the vote of confidence, Sully." Robin grins, though the nerves make it seem somewhat strained. "Now then to review, once we reach the courtyard things will become complicated. The exact nature of Gangrel's elite guard is still unclear to us, and the Plegian army retains aerial superiority. Remember to expect formations and plans to change at a moment's notice. Watch for Sumia, she'll be relaying my orders if I need to make any serious changes. If the situation grows dire and I am unable to account for it, find a Field Commander and stick with them. That'll be Flavia, Frederick, Virion, and Ben."
This… would be the part of Robin's plan I have the most issue with. He sprung the Field Commander idea on me a few days ago, after determining that the battle in the courtyard will become far too complicated and chaotic for him to account for possible variables. Flavia is an obvious choice since she's leading her own team of soldiers, and Frederick has experience leading knights, already bearing the title of Knight Commander. Virion also makes a fair bit of sense since he's a keen tactician in his own right, if not as accomplished as Robin in battlefield tactics.
I am also apparently qualified though, and that strikes me as utter nonsense. I am still despite my best efforts one of the weaker Shepherds in a fight, though I've crept close to the perfect median that is Stahl in the past months. And my tactical ability, while not terrible, is not good enough to make up for this deficiency. I'm above Frederick, but still well below Virion or Robin.
It's probably because of the invasion incident. And all of the ranting that old soldier was doing about my skills. Fuck you, Jeremy. Racist geezer.
"Wait, what about Chrom?" Donnel pipes up curiously. Chrom makes to answer, but looks somewhat confused himself, which no doubt means that Robin has been too busy to talk to him about this.
"Because," Frederick interjects dryly, saving us from a rather awkward moment. "Knowing milord as I do, I pointed out to Robin that Chrom shall likely be wherever the fighting is thickest at all times. Hardly the ideal place to be directing confused units in the heat of battle. The rest of us at least have the good sense to step back for air once in a while."
Chrom chuckles sheepishly at that, "I suppose you have me there." He replies. "I have no intentions of leaving the front line as long as my sister's life is at risk. Very well then! I shall be our vanguard, and will leave the rest in your capable hands!"
"Any other questions?" Robin asks, looking around the group. "No? Good. You have two minutes, make any remaining preparations quickly. We can't afford to wait any longer than that."
The huddle has barely dispersed when I feel an insistent tugging on my sleeve. I turn to see Noire, looking even shakier than usual. "Noire? Is something wrong?"
She looks hesitant, but leans in nervously all the same. "I need to talk to you."
If I'm being honest I'm still not sure what to make of Noire right now. Despite my assurances to the girl back in Regna Ferox, and despite my best efforts to not hold a grudge, there's definitely a part of me that's upset with her for hiding Diana's existence from me. I try to keep it hidden, but I think she can tell. It would certainly explain why I rarely speak to her these days. She's avoided me ever since Severa left.
So when she leads me away from the other Shepherds, to the base of a nearby dune, I can't help but find it odd. "We're not going to have much time left to talk at this rate, kid" I comment, looking back at the Shepherds. "Robin wasn't joking about that time limit."
"I know." Noire says quietly. "I just… I had something that I n-needed to ask you."
"Okay, shoot." I reply, meeting her eyes.
"Your other self mentioned to me once that… that we might meet my mom here. Do you know if that's true?"
"Do I… huh." I blink, taken aback. Come to think of it, the original timeline didn't have an execution to prevent, did it? So how then did Tharja join the Shepherds in that timeline? Reflecting on that does nothing to answer her question. "I… suppose that's certainly possible." I say, doing my best to look thoughtful. "Why, what did my future self tell you?"
"He said she had high standing in Plegia as a mage, and that if things went differently we might have to go to the capital to meet her." Noire replies sheepishly.
I find myself constantly marvelling at my future self's talent for telling these kids everything while simultaneously telling them nothing at all. Truly an aspirational figure. "So, now that we're here in the capital you're thinking you'd like the chance to meet her?"
Noire's hand snaps to her pendant, a sign that she's about to lose her temper. Her face contorts with rage, and her body trembles. Rather than yelling though, she glares off to the side and snarls, "I want nothing to do with that damn monster."
I blink, having not expected that response at all. "…Huh?"
Her hand loosens, and she trembles with grief and rage at once. "I'm sorry! I-I don't mean that! Or, I-I do, but I also don't! Oh, this doesn't make any sense, does it? I'm sorry, I just-"
"You have mixed feelings." I answer for her, suddenly understanding. "You love her, but you resent her for what she did to you."
"E-exactly!" She responds, looking surprised. "How…?"
"I'm familiar with the feeling." I mutter. "Not to the same extent you are, but my family back in my home world had its fair share of problems. Anyways, you want Tharja to be a secret to the others, right?"
"Uhh… oh! Yes. Yes, all of them. Even Chrom and Cordelia. I don't want anybody to know. I don't… I want to be rid of her after everything that happened, but I also… just… I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be asking this of you after what I did! After what happened with Diana you must still be so upset with me, but-"
I pull her into a hug. "I won't tell anyone. Not until you're ready."
Noire goes stiff in my arms, apparently not expecting me to agree. "You… you won't? Even though I lied to you?"
"I still won't." I reply firmly, holding her head against my chest. "You're entitled to your secrets, for as long as you need to figure things out. Until then, you can just be my niece, alright?"
Her hands cling to my back and she begins sobbing into my shirt. "Thank you! Thank you so much! I thought you hated me after what I did."
"Never." I reply calmly, patting her on the back. "I'm still upset with you, don't get me wrong. But I won't let that stop me from caring about you, alright? We're still family. And if you aren't ready to be a family with Tharja again, then you don't have to be."
She sobs a while longer, but I can only wait so long before I'm forced to get her attention once more, pulling away from her and pulling a handkerchief from my pocket for her. "Sorry Noire, much as I'd like you to take your time with this, we do have to get moving. Robin's getting antsy. I think time's up."
She scowls in Robin's direction with a bit more venom than I'm expecting, but doesn't argue, following me back to the group. To his credit, Robin only looks a little upset to be waiting for us. He doesn't know why we were delayed, but can certainly tell it's important enough. He refrains from asking questions, simply nodding to us and turning to the others. "Alright, Shepherds, get to positions! It's time to move!"
I head for the front, to stand next to Chrom as part of the Vanguard with Vaike, Frederick, Sully, and Flavia's group. Which I note, to my displeasure, includes Raimi. Haven't seen the idiot since that time she threatened to beat me to death (not to be confused with the time she attempted it). Pretty sure Flavia's been doing her best to keep the two of us separate since then, but that doesn't seem to apply when she needs her best soldiers. Nor should it. She's a petty bitch who blames me for all her failings and almost certainly started the 'Ben the Butcher' rumor to begin with. But she's also strong, and in a war that last thing is the only one that matters.
From the look on her face as she sees me step up nearby in the front line, she doesn't quite agree though. I make a mental note to keep my distance in case she tries something… unprofessional.
"It's a shame Lissa couldn't see us off." Chrom remarks softly as we begin to move.
"Couldn't be helped." Sully replies. "Healers are busy enough without her running off. It's a wonder we could get away with having Maribelle leave."
"Still not sure about having her go on such a dangerous mission." Vaike remarks. "I know Gaius ain't a bad guy, but it don't sit right with me having him look out for her with everything else he's gonna be doing."
"Which is why we sent Panne and Gregor with them." I reply. "With the sole exception of Nowi those two are the most dangerous people in the Shepherds. Pretty sure we have more to worry about than they do."
"Ben is correct." Frederick remarks, leading us up the side of a towering sand dune. "We will face far more resistance than they do even if their part in the plan should go wrong. Now brace yourselves, we will be in the open shortly."
Everyone falls silent, save for the grunts of exertion as we make our way uphill. Still hate this part of the plan, but at least this is the only climb we should have to make in the course of this stupid charge. It's happening at the beginning for good reason; this is the part of the battle where we'll most need the momentum. And the best vantage point for our spellcasters.
I crest the dune and grab a quick swig of water while the rest arrive next to me. The heat is intense, especially with the gambeson I'm wearing. The cloth armor adds enough to the heat that I'm already starting to get worn down. I take the briefest of moments to survey the landscape while I'm at it, making the most of the time the Shepherds are taking to climb the hill.
The battle is getting more intense by the second to the east and west, but here there is only a paltry force. The Plegians were using it to scout earlier, but Virion's been busy picking said scouts off for the better part of an hour. After the third they started sending them elsewhere. I can actually see one in the distance now, no doubt running to alert some higher up about the small enemy force on the attack. Of course, since he did make the mistake of being seen by me, it's only a matter of time before Virion… yup. Down he goes.
Still, no doubt there will be others, so we have no time left. Chrom's head is still covered, but that can only do so much. We have to move now.
There's no call to charge. No true semblance of order. This part of the plan is just a desperate sprint. 'The more undisciplined the better,' Robin had said. So I don't wait another moment to start sprinting down the hill. Sully and Vaike beat me to it by only a narrow margin, with Chrom and the Feroxi hot on our heels. All part of the ruse. This isn't a focused counterattack, we're just a pack of desperate bloodthirsty idiots running at the front line. Nothing for an enemy commander to worry about. A charge like this could be stopped by even the most rudimentary of defensive lines.
Until Miriel, Robin, and Ricken blow said lines the fuck up, that is.
I don't pay the Plegians so much as a glance as I run, focusing on staying at the front of the pack and keeping my feet so I don't get trampled. The defensive line isn't worth paying attention to; by the time I reach them they've already been sent flying in an explosion of fire. We're spitting in the face of war tactics right now; no tactician in their right mind would typically waste a spell caster of Miriel's level on such a paltry defense. She'd have a far greater effect throwing her magic at the thick of the battle, like, exponentially larger. Basilio's forces number in the thousands, and the Plegian army assembled against us has nearly double our forces. You'd have to be crazy to use Miriel's degree of firepower to supplement a force of a few dozen.
Apparently though, Robin is of the opinion that overkill is the way to go for this mission.
The Shepherds mow through what remains of the smaller defensive line with little difficulty. Zero difficulty, in fact. All I have to do is maintain the momentum I gained on my downhill run, rushing headfirst through the smoke left by magical fire. I see a brief glimpse of Plegian survivors attempting to rally around a knight through the haze, but Frederick reaches their leader and swings his spear with enough force to cut through the armor like butter.
"Holy shit!" I exclaim as Frederick repeats the feat on another knight. "How the hell did you do that?"
"Hm?" He looks over at me as I run up to him. "Ah, yes. I had forgotten until now that you have never seen this. It is an interesting trick I picked up some years ago. This is hardly the time to explain such things though."
"Fair enough." I reply, tailing him once more. Hopefully he can teach me that particular trick. Being able to deal with armor that easily is a real game changer… Come to think of it, this is probably a game thing, isn't it? Didn't the Luna skill do something like that?
Holy shit, was that an actual skill Frederick just used? I was starting to think they weren't real. Like, obviously Gaius can pick a lock like nobody's business, and I've certainly looted a corpse or two, but the crazier stuff like Luna is another thing entirely. Then again, this would explain some of the crazy shit Anna can apparently do, like scale castle walls without equipment…
I really wish I'd known about this before I started making desperate plans with little hope of succeeding. This could have made my life so much easier!
A scream echoes in the distance ahead of me, breaking me from my reverie. I spit out a curse and double my pace, realizing I've begun to fall behind. If I move any slower I won't even be able to call myself part of the vanguard anymore. I'll be moving with the supporting fighters like Lon'qu or Cordelia. Not that fighting alongside Cordelia is a bad thing…
Actually if I'm spacing out with thoughts like that in the middle of a fucking warzone then it's definitely a bad thing. What the hell is wrong with me?
Another scream in front of me. I look ahead and see one of the Feroxi from the vanguard getting tossed in the air. There's too much dust in the air to really tell what did it though. Dark mage maybe? I can't think of what else might be able to throw a person like that.
That thought persists until I reach the man and see that rather than magic he looks like he's been crushed. And his clothes don't bear the telltale signs of shredding that come from wind spells. This was definitely some sort of blunt force trauma.
Another scream suddenly echoes from my right. Then again behind me. Whatever is doing this is hitting wherever it pleases, not giving a shit about our positioning. I look up, but see no sign of wyverns. The air may be dusty, but not enough to hide a wyvern's shadow. All I see in the air is Sumia's Pegasus.
Which is telling since she wasn't supposed to be airborne yet.
"BE CAREFUL, EVERYONE!" She calls as she flies overhead. "THEY'VE SENT AXLE DRAGONS AFTER US! GET TO THE WALL AS QUICKLY AS YOU-" She pulls up suddenly, dodging an incoming arrow, then yells defiantly and hurls a javelin not far from me. I hear a scream from over a nearby dune, followed shortly by Sumia shouting in alarm. "Oh no! BEN, LOOK OUT!"
I barely have time to dive out of the way as a sled comes flying past me, its driver leaning heavily against the controls with a javelin sticking in his back. It's a truly remarkable thing, these sleds. Such obtuse controls, yet they always seem to find a way to crash into people even when nobody is properly steering the damn things. Unfortunately for me, even though the sled misses me, the people riding in the back of the damn thing are quick enough on the draw. I look back in the direction the sled is travelling just in time for an arrow to hit me in the chest, knocking me flat on my ass.
It knocks the wind out of me, to say the least, and I hack for breath as I roll on the ground in pain. Thankfully the gambeson has stopped the arrow from piercing, but it still hit hard enough to crack a rib. I see Sumia flying closer out of the corner of my eye, and wave her away frantically. Those archers are far more interested in her than me, I'm sure. Thankfully she seems to get the message, or simply takes my gesturing as a sign that I'm alright, and moves on. No doubt giving directions to the others.
And I am alright, really. Not perfect, obviously, but my pain tolerance is high enough these days that I should be fine to continue. Breathing is only a little tight right now, and with all the running I've been doing that seems like a safe call that the damage is minor. Must not have been a very heavy arrow.
Still pisses me off enough that I pull my spellbook on the next sled I see get close though. There's still something very satisfying about seeing the lizards flying off without their rigging like demented hubcaps. No time to reflect on that though. From the looks of things I'm near the back of the pack now. Pretty sure I wandered off course at some point, because everyone else seems to be well ahead of me. Must have been turned around in the dust and smoke at some point.
The other Shepherds appear to have reached the walls of the courtyard, and are using them to full effect. The sleds can still shoot at everyone, but at least they can't run anyone over any more. A few of them still seem to be making their way over to the others, and I take the opportunity to blast another that drives a bit too close.
"Good shot Ben!" I hear a voice call from my left.
I look over and see… nobody. Which can only mean one thing. "Got turned around as well, did you Kellam?" I remark, moving in to finish off a Plegian quick enough to bail from the sled in time. He's disoriented enough from tumbling that it's an easy kill with my sword. I take a deep breath to fight off the nausea, and grimace as my rib twinges in protest.
"Not turned around, exactly." Kellam reports from somewhere nearby. "I heard Sumia yelling your name earlier and came to make sure you were alright."
"Minor injury." I shrug. "Fractured rib. Nothing to write home about."
"A fractured rib!?" Kellam exclaims with enough volume that he finally seems to solidify next to me. "Ben you can't keep fighting with a fractured rib!"
"Dude, I've fought with far worse." I stare at him in confusion. "I'll admit it's not ideal, but still no biggie."
"I'm starting to think you've got a twisted sense of what counts as a biggie." Kellam frowns sternly, grabbing my shoulder. "We need to get you to a healer, I'm amazed you can breathe properly will everything that's going on."
"We didn't bring a healer, remember? Only person with the training is Miriel, and she doesn't have a staff." I reply, shrugging him off and breaking into a jog. "Besides, it's way too risky to try to retreat by ourselves. We're behind enemy lines right now. It's all or nothing."
Kellam groans in defeat, following behind me. "This seems like an awful idea, for the record."
"It's the only idea." I reply, steering the two of us towards another circling sled not far away. "Come on, I think there's another straggler over there."
Unfortunately the driver of this sled seems to have realized what I'm up to out here, and promptly steers in the opposite direction when she sees me approaching. The riders yell and shake their fists as they ride away, firing a few more arrows at their prey as they vanish over the next hill.
Kellam recognizes the victim first, rushing ahead of me suddenly with a horrified cry. "Donnel!"
The kid is, as always seems to be the case when I find him, in bad shape. He's limping heavily as he stumbles towards us, and has an arrow sticking from his back. I know from experience how debilitating an injury like that can be, but from the dents in his shield and the broken arrows scattered around him, Donnel didn't seem to get the memo on that one.
"Kellam! Mister Benjamin!" Donnel cries weakly as Kellam reaches him and helps take the weight off his injured leg. "Thank goodness y'all came when ya did! I thought they had my number."
"You held out well kid, good job." I reply, fishing a vulnerary from my pocket. "Here, drink this, it'll help with the pain and the blood loss. Though, come to think of it…" I take a swig from the bottle before handing it over. "There, finish the rest."
Donnel gratefully accepts the bottle and starts drinking. Kellam takes the opportunity to confront me again. "I hope you aren't going to claim that Donnel's injuries aren't a big deal either."
"Dude, uncalled for." I snap back irritably. "I wouldn't say that about an injured person."
"Unless it's yourself who's injured." Kellam mutters, before relenting. "You're right that that was uncalled for though. Sorry."
"I get it, things are tense." I shrug, still hurt but not wanting to push the issue. "Everything I said about retreating with just two people still applies to three though." Kellam scowls at that, but concedes the point.
"What do we do, then?" Donnel asks worriedly. "We're sitting ducks out here, and the others are too busy to help us."
I look back towards the wall where the other Shepherds are fighting, wincing as I see a flock of wyverns closing in to join the sleds. No way we can push past all that. "For now, lay low, move parallel to Chrom, and keep an eye out for more stragglers. We have to wait, either for an opening to reach the others, or enough backup to do the same."
"I can see why Robin named you as a field commander." Kellam nods in agreement.
"Well I can't." I snap irritably. "If I was any good for this position I wouldn't have got my ass lost in the first place. Still, we might as well make the most of it since we're here. Let's head south and watch for anyone else who needs help."
Progress is slower on both fronts, certainly slower than I'm sure anyone would like. My little group can barely move, both in the interest of keeping out of sight and because of Donnel's sprained ankle. Meanwhile, across the battlefield, the Plegians are making Chrom fight for every inch he can progress towards the main courtyard. It's a wonder Emmeryn hasn't collapsed from exposure to the sun, standing as she is on the lonely peak of dragon bone that serves as Gangrel's execution platform.
So far we've only managed to gather two other people, a brother and sister duo who introduced themselves as Isaac and Ira respectively. Isaac fell victim to another sled, and had his arm mangled when the damn thing ran him over, and Ira stayed behind to help him. Both seem largely unconcerned with the situation, in sharp contrast to the rest of us.
"Looks like folks are getting impatient over there." Isaac comments, shading his eyes and squinting out over the sand. "That King is hopping around like a damned loon."
"As long as he's not joining in the fight." Ira replies, snapping the head off of an arrow from her brother's quiver. "I heard that stupid looking sword of his shoots lightning."
"It does." I remark tersely. "He knows how to use it too. From what I've been told he can knock a Pegasus out of the sky." Several in fact, from what Cordelia's reported. Can't wait 'til the insane bastard dies, I really can't.
Isaac whistles appreciatively, to my intense irritation. "That's no easy feat. Not like shooting wyverns at all." He nods towards the Shepherds. "I reckon that fancy archer of yours could do it, maybe the girl, but in most cases you need sheer numbers or high level wind magic to bring down a Pegasus. I'd have a hard time even if I had both hands." He winces as Ira snaps another arrow. "That's not an invitation to break my shit, Ira."
"You aren't using them, and we need to get that arm in a damn splint already." She retorts, pulling a roll of cloth from her bag. "Now sit still for a minute and let me tie this." I can't help but grimace at the thought. His arm really is in terrible shape, the whole thing a swollen purple that sticks out against his dark skin. It reminds me of my arm back at the end of kidnapper's keep, if a bit less… perforated.
"Try to be quick about it." Kellam interjects. "I think I see somebody fighting over by that… bone pillar… thing. I'm not sure what that is, actually."
"Bone pillar works well enough." I reply, looking in the direction he's pointing. The pillar in question is massive, but I can still see figures moving about just beyond it. "I see it too."
"Shit." Ira remarks. "Looks like you'll have to wait, brother."
"I can manage a splint if you leave the cloth." Donnel pipes up. "My leg may be a mess right now, but my arms work just fine."
She tosses the cloth to him and grabs her battle axe. "Knock yourself out, kid. This shouldn't take long anyways."
"Let's hope not." I remark, sparing another glance towards the rest of the Shepherds fighting in the distance, and the massive explosions erupting there. "It looks like Miriel is getting impatient."
"You Shepherds are all nuts, you know that?" Ira remarks with a grin as we start moving. "You sure you're not Feroxi?"
"Can't speak for the others, but I know I don't have a bit of Ferox in me." I reply, grinning back.
"Sully's grandma is from Ferox, actually." Kellam remarks.
"That explains a lot."
"Which red-head is that? Short hair or long?" Ira asks, pulling ahead of Kellam and me despite our best efforts. "They both kick ass well enough."
"Short hair." I reply. "She's dating this guy."
"Ben!"
"Hoo, well aren't you lucky!" Ira crows. "Let's kick some ass then so you have something to brag to her about!"
"Uhh, alright then!" Kellam replies uncertainly.
"Come on, show some guts!" Ira yells, irritated with the feeble response.
"Focus you two, we're almost there." I snap, readying my sword as the sound of fighting echoes from just out of sight.
The three of us race around the pillar and arrive in an absolute bloodbath. The shattered remnants of at least two sleds are lying scattered in the sand, with bodies strewn about everywhere I can see. Some look to have been killed on impact, but several more still have been cleaved through. Only seven remain, in various states of injury, all fighting a single person.
"Libra!" I cry out in shock. I had forgotten he showed up here, honestly. Which is honestly baffling now that I think about it, because normally those sorts of details would stick in my mind. I guess I got so used to seeing him in the church that I… forgot he was an accomplished fighter in his own way.
And he has been fighting. His white robes are soaked and splattered with red. His axe is coated in enough gore to make me sick to my stomach at the sight. He stands tall, despite the wounds covering his body. An arrow in his shoulder. A cut below his eye still dripping. A long slash running almost the length of his right bicep. Only his staff remains pristine, shining in the sunlight even as the rest of his body is dark with blood.
"Ben! It is good to see a friendly face after so long!" Libra calls out in relief as he meets my eyes. The Plegians whirl about in surprise, not expecting enemy reinforcements so far from the battle. Libra doesn't miss a beat, turning to the Plegians assembled and raising his staff in a gesture of triumph. "Hear me, men and women of Plegia! Naga has shown her love for me in this moment! I give you one last chance to throw down your arms. Though you fight against me this day you are not my enemy! Cast aside your weapons and be spared!"
None of the soldiers listen to him, though more than a few of them glance between the injured monk and my group nervously. Libra sighs, lowering his head. "So be it. As a final kindness, I grant you swift death."
"I think that's our cue." Ira remarks, hefting her axe and moving forward. I've barely taken a single step to follow when Libra explodes forward and cleaves a woman's head from her shoulders. And it's enough to make me falter.
A part of me has always known what Libra is a capable fighter. But it's different to see him in action, different in that it seems real to me for the first time. For a long time now he has been a priest only. One of those rare things that's so similar to my own experiences from home. A kind, caring, reliable source of wisdom. So like the pastors I remember from the days when I believed in a higher power. I guess… I had forgotten he had this side to him. There's hardly been a trace of it there when I spoke to him in the church. Here he still shows his compassion, but with a touch of wrath to keep it company.
And why shouldn't there be? He worships a dragon, after all. The thought brings a bitter smile to my lips, but otherwise fails to rouse me from my stupor.
Ira and Kellam have moved forward to aid Libra in fighting, but I can't seem to move my feet. I guess this is what you'd call a crisis in faith?
I threw my faith aside long ago though. So I can't be letting myself freeze like this. This isn't about religion. Don't let that chain shackle you again. Ignore the church bullshit and move on. Your friend is in danger. Do something about it.
The next soldier to approach Libra takes a throwing axe to the skull. And with that a spell is broken, and I can make myself advance once more. Of course by then the other three have mopped them up.
"Was starting to think you'd lost your nerve!" Ira barks back at me with a grin, shaking the blood from her axe.
"Well I couldn't let you have all the…fun…" My usual act of false bravado is abruptly shattered when my head starts spinning. My vision blacks out for a brief moment, and I barely manage to direct my suddenly stumbling feet to my right so that my blindly grasping hands can find the piece of bone hiding this fight. Despite the colossal size of the damn thing I barely make it, leaning heavily as I retch into the sand.
"Ben, are you alright?"
"The hell happened to him?"
"Nausea, I think! He fractured his rib earlier; I'm amazed he lasted this long without something happening."
It's actually just the PTSD, but thanks for the convenient excuse Kellam.
I spend a while longer vomiting and waiting for my heart to stop pounding in my ears, before I feel a pressure ease on my chest, and suddenly start breathing easier. The improved air flow does wonders, and I regain my senses easily after that. Okay, maybe it wasn't just PTSD.
I straighten up and look over at Libra, now hovering nearby with his staff raised. "That helped a lot, thanks man."
"Hey, you sure your head's on straight yet?" Ira asks bemusedly. "Any way you look at it this is a woman."
Libra sighs, staring blankly into the sky as if praying to Naga for patience before turning around with a beatific smile. "Actually, Ben has the right of it. I am indeed a man of the church, not a woman."
"Oh." Ira blinks at that, then blushes. "Oh, damn."
"If that's settled, let's get going." I interject. "We've got two wounded that could use your help Libra, and the sooner we get them sorted the sooner we'll be able to make a proper push to rejoin the others."
"Uhh, right, sure thing!" Ira nods, jogging ahead. "I'll lead the way. Just follow me." She flexes before running, in a way that probably isn't nearly as discreet as she thinks, then runs back to Donnel and her brother with a bit more enthusiasm than necessary.
"Damn." I mutter in a low voice as we move to follow her. "Think maybe you should tell her you're batting for the other team? Might save you both some trouble."
"I doubt we'll encounter each other enough after this for it to matter." Libra chuckles. "I see no need to embarrass her with a needless confrontation."
In a stunning display of medical skill it takes Libra a matter of minutes to fix Donnel and Isaac, despite Isaac's arm looking like a big purple lump. Without injured soldiers to care for I deem the group ready to head for the wagon lines and rejoin the Shepherds. The path is largely clear by now anyways, with most of the wagons having been handled by Miriel. The bulk of the fighting has progressed to the fortifications outside the courtyard now. Only a little while longer before everything kicks off.
Gaius' group should be on their way by now. Robin's plan is about to come into effect. Gangrel's trap is closing. And once all hope is lost, the time for my plan will finally arrive. Which means I need to get over there already.
"If you see any sleds approaching let me know!" I call to the others as we advance across the sand. "Isaac, watch for wyverns! Libra, stay at the back. You may kick the most ass in this group, but you're also our only chance if something happens to any of us. We need to make sure we're ready for when things go to shit."
The others give an affirmative.
I don't hear it though.
Because as they open their mouths to answer me their voices are drowned out by a deafening bellow. A roar so loud the sand seems to shake with its intensity.
A roar that sounds distinctly familiar.
My strength leaves me as my brain makes the connections. I fall to my knees in the sand, staring ahead in horror.
"Oh fuck no." I whisper, a plea as fervent as any of Libra's most devout prayers.
"Mister Benjamin? What's going on?" Donnel looks down at me, eyes wide with fear.
The wall of the courtyard ahead explodes in response. I see bodies fly through the air, but with the sudden cloud of dust erupting at ground zero I can't tell if they're Plegian, Feroxi, or… Shepherd. Stone rains from the sky all around us, a deadly rain that stretches from the wall to far behind me. One of the larger pieces knocks a wyvern from the sky, the screams of beast and rider joining the sudden cacophony as they're crushed into the ground.
The battle ceases as the reality of what just happened sinks in for all present. Those not caught in the explosion still, weapons lowered as they turn to the shattered wall and stare. The sleds remaining near the scene take off at top speeds, the axle dragons racing away heedless of the direction of their drivers. For several agonizing seconds all that can be heard is the agonized screams of those trapped in the mayhem, unseen amidst the thick cloud of dust settling over the immediate area.
And then, a towering figure waves its spear, and the dust is blown aside. In its place, an armored behemoth stands nearly ten feet tall, unconcerned by the stone falling around it. Its armor may once have gleamed in the sun, but has long since been blackened by filth and time. Its blade still gleams though, the end of its spear as long as my forearm. And beneath its helm, I see glowing red eyes.
That I'm seeing it all for the second time does nothing to diminish the dread it instills in me. No, if anything, it's only amplified. I feel the same sense of hopelessness that took hold of me the first time I saw this creature. A monster of impossible strength, come to tear through us like paper. And this time there is no bridge to hold it.
The Deadlord has returned.
And suddenly making this plan of mine work is the least of my worries.
Oh yeah, that guy.
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