A/N: The previous chapter was in Kaethe's point of view to show a more in-depth example of her personality and goals. This chapter shall strictly follow into Soren's point of view and thoughts. I hope it wasn't too confusing. I don't want anyone to think this is some story starring some random person and not the FE folks. This story is for Senerio a.k.a. Soren!
P.S. It shall continue in Kaethe's point of view till the divider simply for the flow of the story. Thank you for understanding.
Kaethe followed Volke to a stone bench underneath a blossoming tree. Each flower had seven petals. The flowers had a peculiar pink streak on their petals, unique to their species. One floated down due to the breezy spring wind and landed on Kaethe's head. She took the flower and placed it behind her ear.
The two sat down on opposite sides. Volke leaned against his legs and hid his face in his fists. He peered up, trying to think of something he could say. Kaethe stared at him curiously, but waited till he spoke first. Volke mused, "Have you found out The Ebon Arrow's identity yet?"
Kaethe replied quietly, "I'm pretty sure I have." Her eyes widened, "I gave him the wrong name! Tsk, too late now. Soren will have my head." Kaethe laughed with a hint of bittersweet joy. She blinked her pale discs of ice and sighed. Her mind was having a war without her. On one side, she wanted to hunt down The Ebon (Black) Arrow and strangle his neck. On the other side, she wanted to forget all this madness and go about as a wanderer.
"I've researched information on The 'Black' Arrow as you referred to him." A chill went up Kaethe's spine. Soren stood in front of her with a pamphlet tied by leather. All one had to do was poke holes through the corners of the pages, tie the pages together, and voila! One now had a book of sorts. "Ebon and black, how did one such as yourself misconstrue them?"
Soren watched his teacher fumble with her hand motions. Kaethe for some reason felt the need to reenact her words. Soren had always found it refreshing compared to an old cobbler who started off "You kids are so lucky these days…" or "When I was your age…"
Soren loathed the whole comparison between an elder's life and a child's. Did those senile old fools really think ignorant whelps of this generation cared about what they had to say? Soren didn't think of himself as an ignorant whelp so to speak. He was more of a traveling spirit who felt the need to criticize the lesser people of this world. Change didn't come from waiting. One had to do something in order to change.
In Soren's case, he liked to change the way certain people acted. For all the sugar and honey in the land, nothing could help the sour and bitter truth. Soren preferred to spit out the sour bitterness than coming up with sugary honey garbage.
Soren waited ever so patiently. Kaethe retorted, "I make mistakes too, Soren. Don't think yourself so high and mighty. That shall be your downfall." Soren sneered and stroked the spine of his tome anxiously. I don't need anyone to worry about me. Certainly not Kaethe! Why should people start to care now…?
Soren glanced over at Volke curiously. He spun around and looked for more people. "Nobody else is here yet? You make for a poor commander, Kaethe. I honestly believed you could do better." Kaethe merely smiled, causing Soren's stomach to churn out of anger and frustration. She never flinched from the sting of his words; she never faltered from the lack of tact in his actions.
Kaethe's responses to Soren's decisions caused him to grow partially angry at her. The other feeling he felt was curiosity as to why she bothered to put up with him. More so then often, the curiosity of his mind won over the anger.
Something was behind Soren; he could hear footsteps approaching. Perhaps he had underestimated his teacher. Soren could see Rolf rushing forth with a group of mercenaries trailing behind him. "I found everyone but- Ah, there you are, Soren!" Soren narrowed his eyes and rethought how much credit Kaethe had. Yes, he had given just enough which wasn't very much to begin with in the first place.
Soren stared at the small band of people amassing before him. Everyone was accounted for. All Kaethe had to do now was make an announcement. Soren watched as she cleared her throat. Kaethe must have thought up an enormous bang. "Everyone, thank you for assisting me on this mission. As a certain member of 'intelligence' has told me, there is a man out there killing relentlessly. Innocents, of all ages, no matter where they are from this man is out there hunting his idea of prey. This killer goes by the alias The Ebon Arrow. He is a sniper no less and a crack good shot. A single arrow in between the eyes. Who else could have pulled off the shot?"
That comment caused Shinon to shift to one side uncomfortably. Soren assumed that Shinon thought he was being singled out from the others. Soren couldn't exactly blame him.
Kaethe continued, "Now then, the so-called prey. Most beorc don't know of their existence, but the laguz know of them quite well. The Branded, hybrids with beorc and laguz blood, are being killed and I've been unable to pinpoint the reason why. My friend in the field of intelligence thinks that The Ebon Arrow is indirectly trying to get another involved."
Soren raised his hand and answered, "The fool wants revenge upon an individual so he targets others to lure in his true objective." Kaethe nodded and Soren dropped his hand contently. Kaethe looked around nervously and stared at Soren.
Soren muttered, "Are there any questions?"
One hand went up. It belonged to Stefan, the green-haired swordmaster they had found in the desert of Begnion. On first glance a stranger might have thought Rolf, Boyd, Oscar, and Stefan were all related. Such wasn't the case.
Soren nodded and Stefan asked, "What's you say about this predicament, Soren? Haven't you told anyone besides Commander Ike?" Soren stared at Stefan with wide eyes before resorting to a hateful glare. Stefan was unaffected and waited for an answer.
Soren spun around and closed his eyes. He grumbled to himself and raised his hand. A gust of cascading wind came down upon Stefan whom easily dodged it with grace. His speed truly did make up for his naturally low resistance. Soren resented that fact more than ever right now. "You want to tell them? Fine! Just shut up, and leave me alone, human."
Mouths dropped open and eyes grew wide. The desired effect had been accomplished. Soren would leave them pondering his intentions, subtly leaving behind clues, but never acknowledging the truth. They wouldn't and couldn't understand.
Stefan murmured under his breath, "I guess he's forgotten I'm a Branded as well."
Soren walked away silently, prepared to fetch the supplies they would need. Come to think of it, Kaethe didn't tell him where they were going. The phrase 'hopeless dolt' entered his mind and out. For a motherly sort of figure, Soren enjoyed disrespecting her quite a bit. Yet at times he caught himself going easy on Kaethe and Ike.
The harsh reality was that Soren was growing soft and he knew it. He wanted to do something about it. There was still pride he could salvage, but lately he had been letting it spill out of his palms. Each grain that fell represented each time he regretted an action of his. Soon Soren would act like an hourglass. He undeniably didn't want that to happen.
Weakness came from dependence. The concept of friends stemmed from dependence. Dependence sought to destroy his personality and being. He hated dependence and displayed that hatred fiercely.
Now where are those darned vulneraries?
Soren stayed a few paces behind the group. He scowled as one after another they looked at him. What was so weird about using the term human? It wasn't like discrimination had lost its existence. Everyone demanded so much of him. He didn't care about their needs so long as those few he trusted were fine. Ike and Kaethe. Older sibling and mother. That was his analogy.
So now the group was marching through a dense forest made all the thicker by the humidity. Half of the liquid on Soren's body came from the air and not sweat. A disgusting thought, really. Kaethe had gone off about The Ebon Arrow in Gallia's vast forests and jungles.
Not everyone was pleased with the idea of trekking through sticky vegetation. The one who hated it the most – whom was also irritating Soren with his endless objections – was Shinon. I hate doing this, I can't believe I'm doing that; a never-ending waterfall of complaining. Shinon could have been much crueler in Soren's opinion, but Ranulf was walking right beside Shinon.
Soren felt something run under his skin and looked behind him. He caught a glimpse of a black cloak and a black ribbon. A blur of white. He slowed his pace and scanned his surroundings frantically. Soren saw a sparkle in the distance and shoved Jill to the ground.
Soren shouted, "Ambush!" Everyone ducked as an arrow narrowly missed Soren's cheek. He was relieved the Jill had decided to leave her wyvern behind and come with just a lance. Jill was probably glad about that too. "Show yourself, coward!"
An archer sprang from a nearby bush and held a bow in his hands. He aimed it at Soren and caught his breath. On his right hand which kept his arrow in place, Soren saw the mark of the Branded. This boy's mark was a blue color instead of red like his own. The archer had an evident pair of feline ears and a grey tail. His hair was tied back messily in a ponytail. A pair of yellow eyes watched Soren's every movement.
The archer boy twitched his throbbing arm, and suddenly dropped his bow. He clutched his bleeding arm, surprised that he had been hit. Soren watched curiously as the boy ripped out the arrow, shaft and head, and snapped it in half on his leg. Soren's eyes met the boys and both were silent.
Soren held up his hand and Shinon hesitantly lowered his bow. "Since when did you become commander, whelp?"
Soren brought his hand to his forehead and pushed away his bangs. The archer boy gasped in shock. Soren didn't look back at Shinon, but he answered, "This boy is like me. I won't let you kill him. You for one would never understand." Soren kept his forehead clear as he moved towards the boy.
Quickly the boy grabbed his bow and strung another arrow. He hissed and aimed straight at the cursed symbol. "I'll kill you if you take another step, wretched human!"
Soren chuckled and raised his other hand, making a mild wind appear. The wind stripped the bow from the boy's hands and threw it against a tree. "Am I human?" A silencing hush fell over the group. The boy stared at Soren horrified and started to run. For some reason, Soren decided to pursue the boy.
This mission had turned out to be a nice break from his occupation as staff officer.
