Apologies for the wait everyone. Wanted to have this up in time for the two year anniversary of the story, but had to delay a week due to real life being... the usual.


Chapter 41: General Discontent

We're back on the road within a week, heading south once more. Chrom doesn't want to waste any time; the prince is overflowing with righteous indignation and knows exactly who to take it out on.

I'm every bit as eager to get things over with as he is, but for one thing. I'm still waiting for Severa and Diana to return. I want to see my daughters one last time before I go. Before I possibly face my death. Gaius' words from before continue to ring in my head as time goes on, and the closer we get to this battle the more it worries me.

The nature of my own mortality is hardly lost on me, but I find myself thinking of it in a new context now. It's not about my own life now. It's about the people I'd leave behind. Severa and Noire, who rely on me so heavily. Diana and Lumír, who I haven't yet had a chance to be a father to. Emmeryn and Libra, who are suffering so much from the lies I've told. Chrom and Lissa, who I still need to tell the truth.

Cordelia, who I am in love with. Who I need to tell the truth to before facing my potential death. I won't have the life with her I dreamed of, not after what I've done. But I still want to take that first step. I still want to tell her the pain I caused her. There can be nothing else between us before that happens, and… even if she never forgives me I have to tell her of my failings.

For everything else, I leave messages. A letter to Severa, telling her how much it meant to me being her father. A letter for Diana and Lumír, painfully inadequate, apologizing for leaving them so soon; for never getting the chance to be the father they deserve. One for Chrom and Lissa, explaining why I did what I did, in which I do not bother asking for forgiveness. A letter for the rest of the Shepherds, telling them all what they meant to me. All of them are put into separate envelopes, bundled together, and after much deliberation, given to Maribelle. Since she will be remaining in Ferox to help the countless wounded who returned after our disastrous first campaign into Plegia, she's easily the best choice.

"I hope you have no cause to open it, but… I think it's past time I took precautions." I say solemnly, handing her the small bundle.

"You have my word, I'll take good care of them." Maribelle promises, a comforting smile on her face. "And I'll expect you back in good time so that I may return them to you."

Robert's farewell is more out of necessity, and contains none of the honesty. The poor wyvern can't come back to Plegia with me, being too vulnerable without a rider. I simply don't have the time to train in such a thing, and the only Shepherd who has such training, Virion, doesn't have the time to build a bond.

"Should anything happen to you my friend, you have my word that I shall look after him." Virion assures me when I broach the topic with him. "There are few in all the land who understand wyverns better than me, after all. And I have far too much left to do to die in a battle such as this. Good Robert shall be properly cared for, of this I can assure you."

For the time being though, Robert remains in Auream Dominus. I trust in Maribelle to keep him safe. She's fond enough of him (though she still won't openly admit it), and in the short time Robert has been with us he's come to trust her. The rest of the Shepherds are marching right back into Plegia, with the obvious exception of Ricken.

"I wish somebody else could stay to help look after you." I murmur during our final farewell. "I wish I could stay. But they need my help. If… when I come back, we can take some time to figure things out. I'll learn to ride you properly, and then you won't have to stay behind next time. Okay buddy?"

He lets out a low crooning noise, and I scratch at a spot he likes at the base of his skull. "Atta boy, Bobby. You be good now. Play nice with the Griffons, and don't let any of the Feroxi give you crap, okay? They try anything funny, you have my permission to set them on fire." I pause for a moment, thinking that one through. "Actually, maybe clear it with Maribelle first."

That's the last of the business I have to take care of before the war begins. With… one notable exception.

I think I need some time to work myself up to that one though.


It takes far longer than it should before I finally get the guts to talk to Cordelia. Our fourth day marching, to be precise. I could face Gangrel's army without batting an eye, but the thought of how Cordelia might respond to this… It might very well be the most terrified I've ever been.

Frankly speaking, if I wasn't in love with Cordelia, I doubt I'd be able to bring myself to do this. I can do this only because I'm doing it for her. She deserves everything I can give her. And first and foremost that means giving her the truth. Even if she'll hate me for it.

I stand at the edge of the Shepherd's camp, staring out into the black of night. In the distance behind me I can hear the others chatting around the campfires. Ahead of me are the clustered lights of the Feroxi army. We're camped in the fields, still several days' march from the deserts of Plegia's heart. The sky is clear and brilliant with stars, the look completed by a full moon. All in all, it's a perfect evening, which honestly feels like a slap in the face given the circumstances.

"Ben? You wanted to talk to me about something?"

I turn around and regard her with a hollow expression. "Cordelia. You came."

"Of course!" She replies earnestly. "You said it was important after all."

"Yeah. Important." I reply, staring despite myself. The moon does incredible things to her appearance. In the pale light her hair is like blazing fire, and her skin seems to glow. "I'm sure you noticed I've not been the most… talkative lately. I had something important I needed to tell you. And I've been struggling to find the best way to put it."

"Oh! Have you really?" Cordelia says, brushing a lock of hair from her face, eyes fixated on the ground nervously.

Ah. Of course. She still thinks this is a confession. "Cordelia." I say in a sharp tone, startling her from her nerves. She blinks in surprise, looking at me in confusion. "Cordelia, I called you here because I have done something unforgiveable to you."

"What…" She stares blankly at me. "I don't… understand."

"I've wronged you, Cordelia. I…" I snarl, running a hand through my hair and tugging at the roots in the vain hope that the pain might help my mind focus. "Fuck, I don't know where to begin. Just… Do you remember, that night we found out about Diana and Lumír, when we talked about the lies I've told? The details I've omitted?"

"I do." Cordelia says, her expression turning pensive as she fully realizes this won't at all be the conversation she was hoping for.

"I've known about much more than I let on." I say quietly. "The stories I heard of this place before I was trapped here, there's more to them than I said. I… I knew this war was coming. And… I knew what you would lose in it. Your fellow knights… I knew that they would die. That you would be left alone."

Cordelia goes stiff. "That's not possible."

"It shouldn't be. I really fucking wish it wasn't possible, honestly. But… it's true. It's how I knew Emmeryn's assassination was coming. It's why I was the only one not shocked when Emmeryn fell. And… it's why I was there to catch you when Aurora died. I knew that you would be coming while we were stuck in Breakneck Pass."

"You knew? All of it?"

"Not everything. There's been plenty that I haven't expected… but I knew you'd be left on your own. The last Pegasus Knight."

"Oh gods." Cordelia says faintly, looking ill. "You… how could you?"

"I… was scared." I reply honestly. "I didn't want things to deviate from their path. I still don't. Because for all the bad things that have happened, I… I believe that if things continue as they are, Grima will be defeated. It's why I've been trying to hide the truth all this time. If things change… we could be right back to a world where Grima destroys everything. The same world that Severa, and Diana, and all the others sacrificed everything to stop."

Her eyes glimmer with the briefest instance of understanding. And then moments later, it gives way once more to grief. "So… rather than risk a possible bad outcome, you chose to continue down the only road you knew…"

"And in so doing, condemned you to suffer." I nod, meeting her eyes. "I won't ask you to forgive me. I know full well I don't deserve such a thing from you. I'm just telling you this because… if I die in this next battle, the truth dies with me. And you deserve to know what a terrible thing I've done should that happen."

"So you want to die with a clear conscience, is that it?" Cordelia snaps. "All this time, after all we've been through, you've known? And you acted like nothing was wrong. How? How can you just… do that? Lie over and over again to everyone you know, to people who care about you. That's sick! You're sick!"

"I know." I reply. "I don't believe for a second that this will clear my conscience of anything. I just… I wanted to be honest with you. I really did think of you as a friend. Still do. I know how fucked up this sounds but you really do mean a lot to me. All of the Shepherds do! And I-"

She doesn't let me finish. Cuts me off before I can say another word. With a swift punch to the face. I stare blankly into the air, gasping for breath. Blood pours across my face, from a nose that has been absolutely crushed. And I realize from the sudden blurriness of the night sky that my glasses have been knocked off my face.

"How dare you." Cordelia spits furiously from above. "How dare you claim that our friendship meant anything to you after what you've done!? You lied to me! You sent me off with a smile! A damned smile! How can I possibly believe anything you say after that?" Her body shakes with barely contained sobs as she looms over me.

And then, as I squint blearily up at her, she stops trying to hold back her tears at all. "How can I possible trust, for even a moment, that you ever cared for me!? How can I believe that I matter to you knowing you've been lying all this time?" She sobs, falling to her knees beside me. "I… I loved you Ben! Your friendship meant the world to me! And yet… you watched me lose everything without a word of warning. The most horrible experience of my life, and you did nothing to stop it! How? How could you do this to me? How could you?"

I say nothing in reply. How can I? What defense could there ever be? She's completely right. And I knew that from the moment I made that decision all those months ago. I knew what I was doing to her couldn't be undone. I knew that my silence was damning her to suffer. Regardless of the outcome I'm striving for, there is no doubt in my mind that her suffering is the worst of everyone my lies have affected. This isn't like Chrom, Emmeryn, and Lissa. There's no happy reveal at the end of Cordelia's story. No lost loved ones returning from the grave. Just loss, and betrayal.

I betrayed her. I love her, and I betrayed her. I may not have killed her comrades, but through my inaction I condemned them all the same. I could have done something, anything to warn them. To help them pull through. To spare Cordelia even a little of her pain. And I did nothing.

Raimi was right to call me a butcher all those months ago. I am every bit the monster she accused me of.

And so I hold my tongue. Spare Cordelia the pain of hearing my words. No more feeble attempts to defend my actions. I simply lay on the ground, my face a mess of blood and tears, until Cordelia finishes sobbing and composes herself enough to leave me. She doesn't say a word as she walks away. Doesn't spare another glance.

And I am left, half-blind and bloodied, to snivel alone in the dirt like the bastard I am.


My face is healed the next morning. The same cannot be said for my glasses though. They're not completely broken, but Cordelia's punch put a very noticeable web of cracks in one of the lenses. Miriel assures me she knows somebody capable of fixing them, but that person is all the way back in Ylisstol. So this battle, which I was already nervous about surviving, will now be fought partially blind. I'll have to take on the Plegian army while my left eye can barely see properly. The world around me becomes a blurry mess, and my performance in spars suffers for it. Whereas before I was roughly on par with Stahl, I'm back to being one of the weakest Shepherds in the group.

Robin loses it when he first finds out about it. It doesn't help that, with Cordelia making it a point not to talk about the incident, I elect to inform the others that my state is the result of tripping in the dark. Lissa probably knows better since she patched me up, but if she suspects somebody punched me in the face… well. She probably realizes I must have done something to deserve it, and so chooses not to investigate. So as far as anyone knows I'm just a dumbass who tripped up and blinded myself on the eve of battle.

And between the heat and my brain struggling to process the world through the fucking blur, it only takes a day for my head to start hurting like an absolute bitch. It's a dull ache that sets in and follows me through everything I do, every conversation I have, every moment I'm awake. All I can do to stop it is to close my eyes, but that's not exactly an option on the march.

So, in summary: I'm blind, in pain, can barely function without tripping over my own two feet, and have everyone pissed at me for being a moron. I am completely and utterly miserable, and likely about to die in battle.

And I take great satisfaction in that. I deserve it. I deserve all the horrible shit that's happening to me, and I know it. So I don't complain. I don't mention the headaches to Lissa. And when Robin tries to tell me I'm not fit for duty I laugh in his fucking face.

"I'm serious, Ben." He glares at me, "I'm not letting you fight like this."

"Robin, look at me." I reply, grinning savagely, "Look me in the eyes and listen good. There is only one way you can stop me from fighting. One. Way. I'm going out there. And I'm going to fight. Whether you want me to or not."

"Damnit Ben, do you have a death wish? You can't fight without your glasses! You're a mess without your vision!"

I think on that for a moment, "I am. But I don't care. I'm fighting. Don't like it, then kill me. You don't have the manpower to spare anyone to hold me, so that's your only option."

"Is there truly nothing I can do to change your mind?" Robin asks despairingly.

"Not a thing." I reply, turning to leave.

"Whatever happened between you and Cordelia, this is no way to fix it!"

I stop. Turn slowly to look at him. "What did you just say?"

"I know something happened. Everyone knows. It's obvious from how you two have been acting for the past day. You've both been miserable since last night. And I know you're not clumsy enough to break your damn nose so badly by tripping!"

"Do you have a point?"

"Whatever happened isn't worth dying over, that's my point!" Robin shouts angrily, "Nothing is worth that! What would Severa think if she knew you were acting like this?"

"Watch it." I say coolly. "I don't care if you think you're doing it for my own good, you do not use my daughter against me. I haven't forgotten her. Haven't forgotten any of those kids. Not for a single goddamn second. I'm not going out there to die. I'm going out there to kill."

I storm out of Robin's tent, ignoring his calls and muttering to myself as I go. "Only thing I can do around here without being a goddamn fuckup, after all. Ben the fucking Butcher. Chrom's pet fucking monster. Too fucking weak to do anything else. Too fucking cowardly to make a real change."

I see Cordelia watching me from nearby as I leave Robin behind. I don't dare meet her eyes. I tell myself my glasses are the only reason my vision is too blurry to see the expression on her face. I picture her eyes gazing with contempt all too easily regardless.


Of course there's only so long I can stay in a mood like this given the company I'm keeping. The Shepherds are friends first, siblings-in-arms second, after all. And when they see me rushing into yet another one of my moods they start intervening in every way they can think of.

Henry starts fixing my glasses every day with a strange time loop spell he apparently knows. Lissa realizes my head is fucked up and metaphorically kicks my ass for not telling her about it with a scolding that lasts more than an hour longer than the time it takes for her to fix it. And Gaius starts pestering me on damn near an hourly basis, effectively dragging me out of my own head. They're good friends. Better than I feel I deserve, though I no longer feel inclined to voice that thought after the look Lissa gave me the last time.

Biggest MVP for stopping my one man pity party has to be Robin though. The man proves himself a capable tactician once more, by coming up with an idea to outmaneuver my depression that is, frankly, completely insane.

"You're promoting me?" I exclaim in disbelief, staring slack-jawed at Robin from across the war room (more of a tent, really). "To fucking GENERAL?"

"In recognition of your earlier performances, yes." Robin replies, a proud smile on his face and a triumphant gleam in his eyes, "The group you led to kill the Grimleal High Priest back in Ylisstol was impressive enough. And when the Deadlord devastated our back line in our push to rescue the Exalt you rallied them brilliantly. Without the leadership you've shown in this war many of our best would not be here today."

"Everyone I spoke to was in agreement." Chrom says, "Your swift action in directing both during battle and the recovery afterwards has saved many lives. Many of Flavia's best were impressed with you. And Stahl has told me on no uncertain terms that you are the only reason he and Ricken didn't die."

"I… I really didn't do anything special." I say, looking around frantically. The others in the war room are oblivious to my misgivings though. The only disapproving face I can see in the room is Raimi. The rest of the Feroxi Generals seem to range from disinterested to cautiously optimistic. And those Shepherds present are all beaming at me.

"I daresay we are near-unanimous in disagreeing with that sentiment." Chrom chuckles. "You needn't worry, Ben. You'll have all the support you need to lead these men and women in the upcoming battle."

"Yes, commanding our left wing will be no small task, but I have absolute confidence that you're up to the challenge." Robin says, a smug look on his face.

"Robin, I'm not sure what fucking Twilight Zone we've entered that I have to tell you this, but there is a massive fucking difference between leading a couple dozen people and leading half an army!"

"Oh, it's really only a quarter of the army." Robin says dismissively. "See, the plan is-"

"Robin!" I snap furiously. "I am not qualified for this position."

"You are." Robin says, completely impassive. "In fact, in light of recent events I daresay this is the position you are most qualified for."

And that's when his goal becomes clear to me. Robin came up with this as a plan to keep me away from the front lines. The crazy son of a bitch promoted me to general just to make sure I'll be kept too busy managing things to fight on the front lines. Soldiers die fighting. Generals die in bed. And Robin wants the latter for me.

Worst part is, it's going to work. I don't think I'm qualified for the position, but he knows as well as I do that if I'm forced into it I'm going to do everything in my power to do it right. With so many lives depending on me I have to. I am most qualified for the position of general out of everything I could do, because it's the only position he can think to give me where my sense of duty might outweigh my desire to break something.

"You know, when I said there was only one way, this wasn't what I meant." I say bitterly, glaring half-heartedly at Robin across the table.

"I make my own way." He says, looking relieved. He recognizes my words for what they are: an admission of defeat. He wanted me off the front lines, and he's done it. As much as I want to lose myself to catharsis, I don't have that option anymore. Not without putting far too many lives at risk. So I sit back, frustrated, as Robin turns his attention away from me and towards the others. "Now then, as I was saying! Here is the situation we've been presented with."

He gestures to the simulation of the battlefield set before us. "Gangrel has chosen to take the fight away from the capital, and has come to us instead. He's taken up position here." He gestures towards a trio of fortifications spread across the south side of the map.

"Fort Nerul." He gestures to the fort on his left. "Fort Zera." He gestures to the right. "And the largest of the three, Fort Twain." He gestures to the third, at the very back. "Together they form what the Plegians call the Triad. While the plains of this region favor us far more than the Plegian army, these three locations easily make up for it. The terrain makes each fort difficult to claim on their own, but together they form a near impenetrable wall when fully garrisoned. These three forts are one of the main reasons we were forced to travel through the desert on our previous campaign into Plegia. We had to give them a wide enough berth that they wouldn't have a chance to send troops after us."

"But now that Gangrel has chosen to make his final stand here, we no longer have that option." Basilio muses, "I have to hand it to The Mad King, he may be a lunatic, but he understands a thing or two about tactics."

"It's a formidable defense," Robin agrees, before grinning confidently, "But as I said, only when fully garrisoned! And right now, they are anything but. Our scouts have reported mass desertion amongst the Plegian army!"

There's a chorus of excited murmuring amongst those gathered. I sit up straighter in my seat. And Chrom grins triumphantly. "It's true everyone! My sister's voice has reached the Plegian army! Gangrel's men chant her name as they leave the field of battle! Once the Mad King is slain this war shall be over!"

"Let's not start talking like the battle is already won." I cut in, breaking the levity. "This is incredible news, don't get me wrong, but if we let ourselves become overconfident now we could throw our best chance at winning this war away."

"Ben is correct." Frederick says with a firm nod, "This is not a victory. It is simply an advantage. One which we must be prepared to ruthlessly exploit."

The mood sobers as everyone focuses on the map. Robin clears his throat. "Yes, well. It's true that it is an advantage, but I'd argue it's far from simple. This twist of fate could present us with an interesting opportunity. If we play our cards right, we should be able to break the triad wide open. The strength of the triad relies upon two things: the formidable natural defenses of the three forts, and the proximity the forts have to each other. The plains between the three forts are ideal for our cavalry, but Nerul and Zera each are set upon great hilltops, and Twain is surrounded on three sides by impenetrable mountains. The even terrain benefits us in an open battle, but also makes it all too easy for the three forts of the triad to reinforce each other, or even hit us from multiple angles."

"The solution then, is simple." Robin points at Forts Nerul and Zera. "We take these two forts at once, so that they can't use their infamous flanking maneuvers. Fort Twain is the hardest to take of the Triad, but is slower to deploy reinforcements as a result. Historically they specialise in dealing the final blow once Nerul and Zera have already successfully flanked their opponent. With the army suffering from such terrible desertion, they won't be able to hold out well enough for their classic strategies to work!"

"So you're aiming for speed then." I nod thoughtfully. "Break them before they can adjust to their newfound weakness."

"Precisely." Robin agrees eagerly. "And to that end I will be supplying the bulk of our magical firepower to the left and right wings of the army. This will mean a harder time for Chrom and Flavia in the center, but if we can take the forts quickly enough then we can fall upon Gangrel's army from three directions at once. Do this well enough and we can crush the Plegian army before they can retreat to Fort Twain. And that is critical, everyone." He looks around the room to ensure he has everyone's undivided attention. "If they manage to withdraw successfully into Fort Twain it will not end well for either party. With most of our forces still recovering from the last battle our only choice will be a war of attrition. We'll have to starve the King out. And who knows if the rest of Plegia's army will stay peaceful long enough for us to do that."

"It'll be a balancing act in the middle then… Push too hard and the Plegians may retreat." Chrom muses, before perking up as an idea seems to strike him, "Or rather, in such a case, we should be drawing the Plegian army out, shouldn't we? So that we can trap them more easily…" He looks up, and sees several of us staring in surprise. "Oh, am I wrong? I apologize, I realize strategy isn't exactly my forte…"

"No!" Robin exclaims, "No, you're exactly right. I apologize Chrom, I suppose I'm just not used to you getting ahead of me in these meetings."

"Well of course not, this is the whole reason I hired you!" Chrom chuckles.

The levity spreads throughout the room, with Basilio declaring in a loud voice, "Careful now tactician, if the Prince keeps making calls like that you'll be out of the job before long."

"Really though, it's a solid idea Chrom." I note, "Gangrel's smart, but his sadism overrides his sense all too easily. If you make it seem like you're retreating, he'll be all too eager to pursue…" I pause as I notice the odd looks the others are giving me… right, with all the story shit I've missed, I've only seen this guy like, twice in my life… "I… might have spent a good bit of my time in Dolgrim pissing Gangrel off."

"Well, lucky for you then that you won't be facing him." Robin says, shaking his head, "Just leave King Gangrel to Chrom, Flavia, and I. Your job will be dealing with this." He gestures towards the map, "Fort Nerul. You take this fort, Basilio takes Fort Zera, and the battle will be ours."


Taking Fort Nerul is not an easy task, even with the location operating at a fraction of its normal capacity. The Fortress sits at the top of a steep hill, and in preparation for our arrival the roads up to it have been torn apart. The climb up to the front doors involves scrambling through line after line of ditches, clearing through wooden spikes set in the bottom of what must be half of them, and cowering from falling arrows every step of the damn way.

"Better than I expected, honestly." I remark from my position, well away from the action. "I thought there would be spellfire by now."

"Such things will be better left until our forces draw closer, I believe." Virion notes from nearby. "Or at least such would be the case if this were a normal siege. What few mages the enemy has elected to keep here will do them little good today. By the time they show up…" His voice strains at this as he pulls back on a bow nearly as tall as he is, launching an arrow far into the distance. He squints after the arrow as it vanishes from my view, then clicks his tongue irritably. "Well, as I was saying, by the time the enemy mages should appear, I shall have properly grasped the range."

"Don't feel pressured to perform a miracle, man." I comment, watching as the vanguard inches forward. "I have other plans for dealing with the mages. Plans that don't involve firing accurately from across a fucking battlefield at a moving target with cover and an advantage in elevation."

"Ah, but why should you be forced to rely on such unreliable plans when I am here?" He replies, giving me a cheeky grin. "These conditions you describe, they are barely a challenge for an archer of my skill."

I hum thoughtfully, still focused on the battle. "As you wish. Kellam's persistence is paying off. I believe they're pulling more soldiers to the front gate."

"Four more archers, yes." Virion chuckles. "The man may lack a presence outside of battle, but now few can take their eyes off him!"

"I doubt he's happy for the attention in this case." I laugh along, before turning to one of my messengers. "Go tell the dark mages to be ready. It's almost time." I turn to the next, "Go tell Vaike he needs to hold back, any closer to the east gate than that and he'll be drawing too much of their fire.

The messengers rush away, and I gesture to my wind mage. The specialist starts weaving my voice into the air, and I call out loudly. "Enough of this waiting! All troops, advance! Take this gate, and don't delay about it!" The words echo out across the battlefield, and I see the army surge forward through the path my vanguard has cleared.

This is the part of the battle where I'm expecting the most casualties. Kellam's heavily armed group of infantry were able to inch forward without terrible losses, and that will have helped clear much of the road. But the bulk of my soldiers aren't nearly as well armored, meaning the downpour of projectiles is going to be devastating.

But it won't last as long as the defenders likely think.

"The enemy has sent a messenger." Virion notes, peering into the distance. "A request for reinforcements, perhaps."

"Maybe…" I muse, "Seems a bit early for that, though. Haven't even blown their fucking wall up yet."

"Indeed." Virion says, looking troubled, "Well, perhaps the enemy commander is the proactive type, no? Let us be ready all the same."

In spite of this troubling sign, things proceed as planned for the next fifteen minutes. The army pushes forward, slowly but surely, drawing closer to the gates, until I give the signal for them to hunker down. They use the ditches dug into the road as cover, cowering under the hail of arrows. To the defenders it seems as though they have my attackers pinned.

And then suddenly the gate begins to open. And like a furry missile Panne comes flying from inside the fortress, with Gaius clinging to her back. The army surges forward around her, making for the open gates to the fortress. The defenders on the walltop surge together, calling more and more reinforcements from the other walls…

And just as they gather to drive back my army, Henry and Tharja blast the walltop with a cloud of dark magic. The first magical attack of the siege. I waited long enough that they either forgot the potential danger, or would assume I didn't have mages, in the hopes that they would recklessly gather in this moment. And now the defenders, already too few for the size of the fortress they were attempting to protect, have lost nearly half of their forces at least, while an army rushes through their gates.

"It's done." I say decisively, once again letting my wind mage carry my voice across the battlefield. "Soldiers of Fort Nerul, you have fought valiantly, but this battle is over! Throw down your arms now, and I shall let you live, and tend to your wounded. Any who fail to surrender will be killed." I gesture to the wind mage, and speak to Virion normally. "How are we for time?"

"Behind Basilio's pace, but still ahead of schedule." He notes with a pleased expression. "Your little deception worked wonders, my friend!"

"Basilio had Nowi to work with, he had it easy." I snort. "Anyways, we should have time to regroup and get things mostly settled here before making our move against Gangrel. Let Kellam's team look after our prisoners, the man's earned a break, relatively speaking. His group aren't ideal for the sort of pace we need for the next stage of Robin's plan anyways."

Virion and I send messengers out to coordinate the care for our wounded as we move towards the Fort. I can't help but feel pleased at how well the plan worked. Sure, these tactics wouldn't have been as decisive if the enemy wasn't operating at minimal capacity. Gaius and Panne, for instance, wouldn't have had the slightest chance at infiltrating a fully manned defense. Still, it's nice to see my first stint as commander of an army go so well.

"I think Robin made the right call." I decide, looking to Virion. "Keeping me away from the action was the best thing for me."

"I'm inclined to agree." Virion nods, "Your skills in battle have come a long way, but your current condition is far from ideal."

"Yeah…" I sigh. "And really, letting pent up stress out in the middle of a fight is exactly the sort of thing I've been-" I flinch as there's a loud cracking sound, and my vision suddenly goes blurry. "Ah, shit." I take off my glasses and examine them, "Looks like Henry's spell wore off."

A loud screech rings through the air. I look up in alarm. Virion nocks an arrow immediately. "Wait, was that… really?"

"Wyverns!" A voice cries out from the fort. "Dozens of them, inbound from the south!"

"What?" I snap in alarm, fitting my glasses back on my face and scowling as my left eye remains blurry. "Here? Now? What the fuck is Gangrel thinking?"

"Perhaps he doesn't yet know that Fort Nerul has already fallen!" Virion replies, an eager look on his face. "We must mobilize our archers immediately, this is a most golden opportunity!"

"What we need to do is mobilize everyone inside the damn Fort!" I snap irritably, rushing forward. "If those wyvern riders show up now, the Plegians we haven't rounded up yet will…" I trail off uselessly as loud cries and the clanging of weapons starts to ring out from the Fort. "Damnit, they rallied. I was afraid of that! Move in quickly, once those wyverns reach us everyone stuck in the fort will be…"

I am, of course, far too late. By the time I've trailed off the air around the Fort has become thick with leathery wings. Virion and I watch in horror as the flock of screeching beasts swarm about in the air above the Fort. That surprise turns to confusion as the wyverns delay only a moment before moving on, not even pausing to harry my men locked in battle on the wall top. And as the wyverns start to beeline towards my location, that confusion turns to panic.

"They're aiming for command! Open fire! Bring them down!" I roar in alarm as the swarm descends towards us. My archers do not hesitate, immediately firing up at the new threat.

Interesting fact about Wyverns: despite what you might expect they are most well defended on their bellies. They are a species that specializes in attacking a foe from the sky after all; most potential damage for a wyvern will come from below them. So unlike Pegasus, shooting one down isn't as easy as just pointing an arrow and firing. The only reliable way to bring a wyvern down with a bow is to take out its wings. This can often take more than one arrow, as wyvern wings are mostly comprised of a resilient membrane.

Despite all of this, the diving wyverns are so reckless in their attack that those of the group at the front find their wings shredded in seconds. It could almost be said that my people are too effective at killing them; it only takes a few short seconds before everyone is dodging a veritable storm of dying wyverns falling from the sky. It's like the battlefield is being struck by thrashing, scaly meteors.

"This is fucking insane!" I cry out in disbelief, tossing a lightning spell into the fray. "Are they suicidal!?"

"Suicidal or not, there is little we can do to stop them!" Virion shouts grimly, firing steadily even as sweat gathers on his brow, "There are too many to delay them for much longer!"

As if on cue, the next wyvern to swoop out in has its wings relatively intact, and dives at us with a deafening scream. I roar to be heard over the thing, but can barely hear my own call to "Brace for impact!" over the din.

The wyvern is nearly upon us when Panne hits it from the side, leaping high enough into the air that she nearly lands on top of the creature. She roars in defiance, teeth and claws bearing down mercilessly as she rips the wyvern out of the air. Her momentum carries the two of them sideways, and they hit the ground rolling and snarling, disappearing into the chaos of the battle.

I look back to the swarm just in time for the next wyvern to land, jaws snapping at me, eyes mad with fear. Its rider sits slumped in the saddle, body perforated with arrows. I narrowly dodge another bite, bringing my sword down on the back of the poor creature's neck. The body of the wyvern collapses to the ground, spine damaged if not severed, and I move to put the beast out of its misery.

As I finish my foe off somebody calls a warning to me, barely heard past the cacophony of battle. Unfortunately it comes too late. I barely have time to look up from the slain wyvern before another downed wyvern crashes into the ground next to me. The initial impact sends me staggering, and so when a thrashing tail flies towards me I'm utterly helpless.

The air is forced out of my lungs. I tumble through the air. I feel suddenly nauseous from the way my head is spinning (a small part of my brain struggles to remember the last time I was in a battle where I didn't throw up at least once). I land badly, rolling head over heels, limbs twisting about in ways that can't be healthy, even as I try to curl up and prevent any serious damage.

I come to a stop, staring up into the sky blankly, mind and body reeling. More wyverns are still flying overhead. Right, still dangerous. I need to move. My limbs… are moving, but struggling to do so. Something damaged, though somehow nothing seems to be broken. Wait, never mind. Three of the fingers on my left hand are facing the wrong direction. That's it? Damn, not bad. After a tumble like that my neck should probably be done for. I haul myself wearily to my feet, trying to spot a familiar face in the mess.

I've barely spotted Gaius running towards me when everything goes sideways again. I'm off the ground once more.

…What hit me this time?

…Why haven't I landed yet?

The ground is suddenly very far away.

Oh fuck, I'm being carried.

Had I my wits about me, I might have been able to put my sword through the talons of this monster before I could be carried too far. But my head is still fuzzy. I'm amazed I even have the strength to hold my sword, honestly, but my right hand is clinging to the weapon with everything I have. Almost as tightly as this fucking wyvern is holding my leg.

The battle is waging in the distance beneath me, armies colliding with a dull roar that echoes all the way up here. If I squint in the direction we came I can vaguely see my soldiers fighting to finish off all the wyverns that were shot down. The others are retreating with my captor. There are barely a dozen left, less than a quarter of the attacking force, and all of them are injured.

It suddenly occurs to me that this suicidal charge was entirely for the purpose of capturing me. Why else would they retreat as soon as they caught me? And that means… well, it means I'm extra fucked.

And just as that sinks in the wyverns begin to descend. And I am dropped unceremoniously at the feet of the Mad King Gangrel. He sits in an impractically ornate chair, well away from the battle lines, surrounded by hard-eyed soldiers. By his side stands a woman that can only be the Grimleal Aversa, looking dark and elegant save for the twisted smirk on her face. A nice big crowd of Gangrel's best and most spiteful, with me stuck in the middle.

He seems almost unconcerned with me at first, polishing his sword as I gasp for breath. "Well, isn't this a lovely surprise." He says with a false air of casualness, "Ben the Butcher, dropping in for a visit. Such a thoughtful present my wyvern riders have given me!"

He rises from his throne, blade cracking with electricity, as if with anticipation. The point rises, stopping mere inches from my nose, close enough that I can feel the charge of energy around me. "I'm going to spare you the pretty speeches today, Butcher. I'd far prefer to have this matter sorted quickly so I can get right to killing your damn friends. I have one question for you, before I kill you."

His features twist with hatred, body trembling with anticipation. "Now tell me, Butcher. Where did you hide the Exalt?"


This is fine.

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