"Catherine's squad is in position."
"Any sign of Yuri's yet?"
"No. Don't think they're due for another five minutes. Want me to ask Catherine?"
"Not worth it," Byleth muttered. "Let's stay down."
Ignatz nodded and returned his attention to the town square. Behind the two of them, another six soldiers laid very still on the rooftop. On the other side of the street, Catherine's squad mirrored them.
"Hey, look at that one with the black pauldron," Ignatz whispered, pointing into the square.
At the base of the stage, said soldier stood. He wore typical Empire red sans the sole piece black armor. It was subtle, but they were looking for it.
"That's him, the leader," Byleth murmured. "Signal to Catherine."
Ignatz flipped the mirror in his hand and caught the sunlight as it peeked through the clouds. Catherine, prone on the roof, saw it and passed the information along.
In Varley's city center below them, a black robed figure stepped onto the stage. Around the stage, civilians had begun to congregate for the sermon. Imperials were scattered among them and in the streets stemming from the beating heart of Varley.
"Repent!" shrieked the preacher, throwing his arms up and quieting the crowd.
"They're early," hissed Ignatz.
"On to plan B," Byleth murmured. "Let Catherine know."
As Ignatz signaled with the mirror, Byleth listened to what the lunatic was saying today.
"—savior, Edelgard! She has come from the heavens themselves, blessed by the Goddess herself! She will be our salvation and deliver—"
"Yuri's squad just arrived," Ignatz said. "Should I give the go?"
Byleth held up a hand for him to wait and looked to the sky. Hopefully, they were in position, because the cloud cover obscured her view.
"Go," Byleth ordered.
"I hate plan B," he muttered before standing on the roof. Byleth watched for eyes turning towards them, but they were in the clear. For now.
"Aim carefully," she said, moving from prone to crouching.
"Funnily, that's the part I'm the least worried about," he said, removing his Adrestian Longbow from his back. One of the other soldiers passed him the hooked arrow.
It had a long cord attached to the end of it, the end of which was anchored to the roof. Ignatz knocked it and pulled the string back with his shoulder blade. The preacher continued, uninterrupted.
Ignatz fired. The arrowed whistled through the air and struck the back corner of the rectangular stage, the side furthest from him. Ignatz pulled it taught with all his might, the arrow's curved end hooking into the structure.
The crowd gasped and the preacher paused, looking at the arrow embedded in the wood.
Byleth drew the Sword of the Creator and looped it around the cord. She jumped from the roof, holding the blade in her other hand, and began to slide down the cord. She accelerated and watched as another archer with a Longbow anchored their arrow opposite hers. From another roof, Catherine leapt off.
She disengaged from the cord before reaching the stage so as to not collide with it. Maintaining momentum, she pointed her blade at the preacher.
Her blade bit flesh as she crashed into him, killing him with naught but a warble. His body cushioned the landing and Byleth rolled with it, stopping on her feet.
The crowd screamed. Civilians panicked and ran.
"Start the ritual!" yelled the soldier with the black pauldron. He fled into the crowd while his lackeys converged on two civilians that were in something of a trance, equidistant apart off the stage.
No! Byleth swung the Sword of the Creator, its whip form extending out. But she wasn't quick enough and the tip glanced off his armor.
Catherine landed on the stage, less gracefully. She recovered and immediately leapt into the crowd to chase him down, Thunderbrand glowing crimson.
Yuri landed two seconds later, pressing their back to hers as imperials flooded the stage. He held Begalta firmly as they were surrounded.
"I hate this plan," Yuri growled.
Byleth chuckled. "You're not the only one."
Their reinforcements arrived, the remaining soldiers from the three squads ziplining onto the stage. Some bailed early, landing in the crowd to fight the imperials. Others landed on the stage, breaking the formation of imperials.
"Kill them!" screeched one of pale cultists from the crowd.
Byleth braced herself as imperials converged on them.
"That's the signal!" Claude called out to the rest of the wyvern riders, looking down to the solitary fireball Hapi had thrown up from within Varley. "I want no civilian casualties, understood?"
"Sir!" chorused his battalion.
"Dive!" Claude ordered, spurring Tishtar down through the clouds. Hilda, riding pilon with him, gripped his waist harder.
They soared below, like a cascade of falling rain. Claude screwed his eyes shut, placing full faith in Tishtar.
She roared and he gave the order, "Pull!"
Claude's eyes snapped open and forty feet from the city square, Tishtar and every other wyvern pulled out of the nosedive. As they drew closer to the ground, each person riding pilon leapt from their wyvern. Hilda clapped him on the back and jumped.
"Circle 'round!" Claude yelled after she was gone. "Target archers on the buildings, support our soldiers!"
They all broke off into prearranged formations, sweeping across the sky to pick archers off. But not Claude.
Tishtar swept around independently to where Ignatz still remained on a building. Pausing by him briefly, Claude picked him up.
"Why didn't we go with the first plan?" he shouted over the wind as Tishtar flapped her wings to get them higher.
"They started preaching," Ignatz shouted back. "They were moving ahead of the pattern."
"Dammit," Claude muttered. Then, louder, "We get the leader?"
"No. I saw Catherine in pursuit though," Ignatz replied.
"Got it," Claude said. "Give Lorenz the signal."
He watched from the corner of his eye as Ignatz knocked an arrow in his Longbow. The form was awkward as he was unused to firing mounted, but it did the trick.
Ignatz fired, the arrow shooting into the sky with a long red streamer attached to the end. Within seconds, Hapi launched another fireball into the sky, this time mixed with dark magic. It detonated about a hundred feet away from where Tishtar hovered, which was the sign for Lorenz to begin attacking the walls.
"Ready to get back down there?" he asked, looking at his passenger.
Ignatz sighed. "Take that dive easy, please."
Claude laughed. "No promises!" Tishtar surged into a nosedive.
Byleth staggered back out of the errant fireball's path. It collided with the wooden stage, devouring the structure.
A few feet away from her, Yuri jumped from the stage into the fighting. Most, if not all, of the civilians had fled, but two were being held by the cultists. The Mockingbird made a beeline for one, hacking his way through with Begalta.
Byleth focused on the other one, on the opposite side of the stage, past the fire. Out of instinct, she shied away from the flame.
No, she reminded herself. There's no need to fear it anymore.
She ran at the fire.
Somewhere, Hilda screamed at her. But she paid no attention. After all, there was nothing to fear.
Instead of jumping over the fire, Byleth ran through it. Flames licked at her legs, catching her coat she always wore. She could smell fabric burning. But she did not burn.
Her cloak engulfed in spreading flames, she jumped from the stage, a burning phoenix in the sky. The cultist's eyes turned to her and he let the spell slip in shock.
Thank you, Rhea, she thought bitterly. For whatever you did to me. Damn the woman, but this had its uses.
Byleth landed and walked to the cultist without a hitch in her step, still alight.
"You—" the cultist shouted, terrified. "Demon!"
"Here to take you to hell," she growled, severing his head from his shoulders. The innocent woman that had been at his mercy snapped out of the trance, screamed, and ran away in a panic.
Byleth took her coat off and threw it aside to spare the rest of her clothes. Around her, the imperials formed an uneasy circle, too afraid to approach.
And axe caved in the head of the one nearest to the burning stage and Hilda tore into the encirclement.
"Sothis, the Goddess, and Seiros!" Hilda screamed. "What the fuck was that, By?"
"New trick," she grinned, spinning the Sword of the Creator in her hands. "Ready to take care of these fuckers?"
"I'm gonna kill you for scaring me like that after we're done here," Hilda shot back.
Byleth laughed and disengaged her sword into a whip. "Gonna have to fight these guys for it."
Catherine skipped the stairs, jumping down the decline instead. She hit the ground and kept running, gaining on the armored man.
He raised a hand and fired a bolt of Dark lightning into the sky. Catherine swore loudly and picked up the pace, the buildings around her blurring by.
A screech came from the clouds above and an imperial wyvern rider tore through the sky. The creature tucked its wings in, fitting between the tight buildings.
"Dammit!" roared Catherine as she brandished Thunderbrand and ran faster. But it wouldn't be fast enough, as her quarry grabbed the outstretched hand from the rider.
Claude, having seen the Dark magic, chose that moment to fly above them on his alabaster wyvern. Tishtar would be too slow to get to the leader. He jumped off Tishtar with nearly a hundred feet between him and the ground.
His bow was in his hands, and arrow knocked before he leapt. Falling at increasing speed, he drew and loosed the arrow. Tearing through the heavens faster than he fell, it found it's mark in the neck of the imperial wyvern rider, the woman's body buckling. The armored cultist fell as her arm gave out.
Tishtar twisted in the air with astonishing agility and with a great flap of her wings, reversed direction. Claude reached out his arms and snagged her as she flew by.
"Goddess," Catherine breathed. She knew Almyran wyvern training was ridiculous, but that was a whole other level of crazy. Nader couldn't arrive at the front soon enough.
The armored cultist scrambled to his feet, but his fall had bought her more than enough time. Catherine dashed up behind him and jammed Thunderbrand into his back. She pulled it out and delivered a lateral slice, cutting off the cry of pain.
Catherine took a quick breath, sparing herself a moment to calm down, before turning back to rejoin her comrades.
We raised the Alliance's flag over Varley today. What could have been a hard fight was circumvented by clever planning on Yuri's part.
This ritual concerns me, though thankfully we stopped it. According to Yuri's sources within Varley, this cult appeared from nowhere. Nothing we've been able to turn up has shed any light on these individuals. The hallmark of them is their pale skin, almost as white as snow. I've seen a few people fitting that description over the past years in battle.
Yuri claims Aelfric—Myson, he called him—is the leader of this sect. We don't know enough about them and that scares me far more than Edelgard does. This ritual was going to sacrifice innocent people and we know nothing as to the why of it.
I should feel accomplished. We took Varley, our first decisive victory on Empire soil. But where is Count Varley? Why was Bernadetta not here? Why wasn't anyone of note here? Could the Empire really be willing to just abandon an entire city? Why did every cultist we tried to take prisoner kill themselves before we could get them?
Questions upon questions. Not enough answers.
It feels far too much like Remire for my liking. A gut feeling, though I trust my instincts. Those same pale, black cloaked people were there as well. It can't be coincidence. Solon, Kronya, and now Myson, these must be leaders of this organization. What do they want?
The citizens of Varley are grateful, at least. Seems these interlopers had a brief reign of terror over the city. Rescuing them of that seems to have earned us their cooperation. My conscience is spared any qualms with killing these cultists, at least. The people I've spoken to made it sound like they were trying to manipulate the teachings of Seiros to include Edelgard in them. This is, I suspect, to capitalize on her popularity. But odd, given her opposition to the Church.
Which brings me to my theory. This group, it acts independently to Edelgard's authority. Appealing to religion for whatever they want makes sense for Varley—the late Count Varley was Minister of Religion. There must be quite the significance in faith within the city. I can't imagine Edelgard would condone any usage of doctrine, much less painting herself as a second coming of Seiros.
I need more to back this up. I sent Marianne and Hapi to investigate the undercity. If I'm lucky, they'll return with answers. If not, I'll get more questions.
-Excerpt from Claude von Riegan's personal journal (Harpstring Moon – Year 1186)
Caspar frowned, drumming his fingers on his desk. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of this?"
Myson stepped into Caspar's office, hands folded behind his back. Thank the Goddess one of Caspar's soldiers he'd had monitoring the Agarthan barracks warned him of his arrival.
The Agarthan's lips curled. "I wanted to talk about some matters that concern the two of us."
"I had assumed that from shutting yourself in the barracks, you had no interest in my affairs," Caspar commented, continuing to drum his fingers.
"A correct assumption," Myson said, taking a seat across from Caspar, much to his displeasure. That meant the man intended to stay longer than a few minutes. "But there are some matters that we must discuss."
"Make it quick then," Caspar insisted.
Myson glowered. "I think we can stop pretending you don't have people posted around our barracks. I should like that to stop. I tolerated it before, but as our work becomes more…delicate, I detest the attention."
Caspar didn't flinch. "This is a fort, Myson. Soldiers are stationed everywhere. I assure you that none of them are watching you with any intent, this is just protocol for every barracks."
The Agarthan hissed in annoyance. "Cut the horseshit, boy. Let me make this very clear. Either pull your soldiers off, or I will be all too happy to inform the Emperor about your latest guest."
He stopped drumming his fingers. "And that would be?"
"The Brigid princess," Myson said. "You thought you could hide her from me? I see everything in this fort, boy."
Caspar shifted uncomfortably, throwing in the towel for the sake of his friend. "Fine, we understand each other. I'll give the order."
"Good," Myson purred. "Now, the other order of business concerns what I have been doing in the barracks with my people."
"I suppose it's useless to ask what that is?" Caspar asked, raising an eyebrow.
Myson chuckled. "On the contrary, this concerns you. We've been very busy creating a strike force for her majesty. You are her first choice to lead it."
"I am overseeing Merceus," Caspar automatically said while the cogs spun in his mind. Created? The screams had been silent for a while now. He'd assumed they were torturing prisoners or something.
Were they creating demonic beasts, perhaps some new kind of creature? But if that was the case, why ask him to lead it?
"For now," Myson stated. "We both know the Minister of War is due to return soon. When he does, he shall take up the mantle of Merceus, leaving you free."
"What does leading this group entail?" he asked, avoiding the topic of his father. That was news Myson shouldn't know.
The man shrugged. "Nothing out of the ordinary, I assure you. Why don't you come to the barracks and I'll show you?"
Something tugged at the back of his mind that screamed not to go. Something base, something primal within him, like his instinct to survive. An instinct reforged after he'd gotten his Crest.
"I've got my hands full with Merceus preparations," Caspar declined. "Everything must be in working order if the Alliance comes knocking at our door."
Myson didn't show any emotion in his face. "Very well. The offer remains open, Lord Bergliez."
"Is that all?" he asked, eager to be done with the man.
His guest stood and smiled. "That is all, Lord of Merceus. Enjoy your time as its commander before your father returns." A veiled reminder. Myson turned and departed.
As soon as the door closed, Caspar was on his feet. He had to act, had to prepare. Whatever Myson had planned, it couldn't be good.
And he needed to figure out what it was.
Lorenz listened to rain against glass as Yuri spoke. The three of them sat around a small table in Varley Castle, their residence for their expected brief time in the city. The room they'd picked was private, far away from prying ears.
Claude nodded. "You're sure Derdriu is safe?"
"Positive," Yuri answered, running through reports from his network of informants. "As far as I can tell, they achieved victory without much trouble. I don't have a clear idea as to why, but I'll find out."
Yuri had no doubt already communicated this to Seteth. There weren't illusions that Yuri's first loyalty was to Abyss and the Church, a distant second being the dual leadership of the Riegan brothers.
Lorenz hadn't gone public with the adoption, but he'd told the inner circle. They'd congratulated him, telling him he deserved it. Hilda in particular seemed overjoyed at having a new Riegan to bother. But the rest of the world didn't need to know yet, not while Lorenz was immeasurably busy as acting-general of the Alliance's army. Once Holst took over, then he could consider it.
The dynamic between the brothers turned out to be just as natural as their politicking. Lorenz handled the affairs of general while Claude took the reins as leader of the Alliance. They worked well together, but he'd never doubted that.
"And Rowe?" Lorenz asked. "Have we heard anything there yet?"
Yuri hummed and nodded, flipping through pages. "Latest intel suggests the rebels took Rowe and have Lord Rowe hostage. I don't expect that to last, but it should help out our friends in the north, if only to divide the enemy's attention."
"Last I heard, Sylvain is planning to attack Fhirdiad," Claude murmured, running a hand through his hair. "I suggested he try and fool Cornelia into thinking he would attack Charon instead. If it diverts them even a bit, it'll help them."
Yuri nodded, making a note for themself. "I'll ask my contacts to investigate that, see if they buy it. Do you think the Margrave has a chance?"
"At winning?" Claude asked. "Sure. It'll be tough, but Sylvain's changed a lot from the academy. I don't doubt him for a second."
"What about from the Empire?" Lorenz asked. "Our reports aren't saying much."
Yuri shook their head. "I'm not much better off. All my contacts in Aegir have gone quiet, which scares me. I'm used to losing my people, but so many at once?"
"Damn," Claude muttered. "Has it happened anywhere else?"
"Thank the Goddess not. Arundel and Bergliez are making their way with unfortunately good time. I suspect Bergliez will beat us to Merceus and Arundel will attempt to engage us west of Varley, judging by how they're moving. So, if you're telling the truth about this Almyran army, it sure would be convenient if they showed up soon," Yuri said, directing the statement to Claude.
Claude smiled disarmingly. "Of course I am. Marching through a mountain range takes time."
Yuri nodded, clearly still having his doubts. "Fine. The only other bit of news I have is rumor. Apparently, the Empire is planning something big out of Merceus."
Lorenz frowned. "Is there any evidence to support that?"
"No, except that I trust this source with my life," Yuri said. "But none of the other people I have there have corroborated it. So my conclusion is inconclusive."
"If the Empire has some new weapon," Claude thought aloud, "then we ought to push to Merceus to take them by surprise. But of course, we can't do that until we take Bergliez and deal with Arundel."
"Which is why having the Almyran air legions would certainly help," Yuri said dryly.
"Give Nader time," Lorenz said, cutting Claude off from replying. "I've met him myself. If you doubt Claude's word, then take mine."
Yuri nodded, not satisfied, but placated. "Then shall I return to Seteth and tell him the course of action stays the same? Advance on Bergliez and meet up with Holst's army there?"
"Yes," Claude said while Lorenz nodded. "Focus on figuring out what happened at Aegir. If Derdriu is safe, then Ferdinand will make his way south. He and I have a plan for the city, provided we can assess whatever has occurred there."
"Trust me, there we have our priorities aligned," Yuri said. "I'll take my leave. Keep me posted should Sylvain be in contact."
Claude agreed and the Mockingbird left. As soon as the door to the small room closed, he turned to Lorenz. "After all this time, he still doesn't trust us?"
Lorenz chuckled. "He's a schemer, like you. Give them time, I have a feeling they'll warm up to you."
"Is this what I was like?" Claude grumbled.
"At first," Lorenz said, thinking back to kinder days. "I trust Seteth and if Seteth trusts Yuri, that's good enough for me."
"Fair point," Claude nodded. "By the way, you haven't heard anything from Holst, have you?"
Lorenz shook his head. "Not since they arrived in Hrym."
Claude nodded, bothered by it. But neither had an answer.
"Anyway, let's go check in with Byleth and the knights," Claude said, standing. "They'll have finished securing the city by now."
"Goddesses and Gods, what the hell is that smell?"
Marianne wrinkled her nose, holding her hand that held flame aloft. Light spread down the hallway, revealing nothing but cold, dusty stone.
Hapi was having much less of a good time. A rat skittered through the light from Marianne's magic and Hapi yelped, jumping back.
"Don't like rats?" Marianne asked softly.
"They're not my preferred critter," Hapi scowled, shying away from where it darted.
"Let me go first," Marianne offered. "Maybe I can scare them off."
"Or I can burn them," Hapi grumbled.
Marianne shot her a disapproving look. "Dislike them or not, they're living creatures."
Hapi waved her off. "Yeah, I know, Marigold. Just…keep them away from me."
With a nod of agreement, Marianne continued down the sewer hallway. But that wasn't entirely accurate, because the design plans she'd seen for the undercity didn't have this hallway. Ignatz had run the two of them through what to expect.
This hallway, which coincidentally ran beneath where the city's center was, hadn't shown up.
If only she could ask the rats about the place, she lamented. But the sadness brushed through her quickly, a familiar melancholy at the loss of that ability.
Marianne walked forward slowly, sparing a bit more light into her hand. Fire mixed with White magic made for a luminescent beacon that didn't blind like pure White would.
Hapi dogged her footsteps, eyes pointed to the ground for any more rats. For her sake, Marianne made sure the light in her hand extended far enough forward to scare them away.
Poor little ones, she cooed silently. But this was far more preferable than Hapi murdering them all like she'd suggested.
"I see a turn," she murmured quietly. It wasn't a turn in the hallway of black stone, she realized, it was a passage into a new room.
"You see inside?" Hapi asked, getting closer to Marianne.
"I need to get closer," Marianne said, creeping forward. "Might be rats in there, so hang back."
"Gladly," Hapi muttered.
She brushed a hand against the stone wall as she neared the passage. Wait, that wasn't stone. Marianne stopped, looking at it as her fingers brushed against it. It felt like glass, like obsidian.
"How…?" she wondered aloud. There weren't volcanos around here, nor could obsidian be molded by any method she knew. This hadn't been built by Varley architects. It couldn't have been.
A tiny bit of fear prickled the back of her mind. She walked forward into the room, holding her light aloft.
Her eyes landed on an operating table as a figure, human, surged from the shadows. An older man, pale, with knife aloft leapt at her with far too much alacrity.
She acted without thinking, using her free hand to thrust up into the air. A foot in front of her, a stalagmite of ice emerged from the ground, spearing the man through the chest in midair. The ice continued to extend, taking the man further away from her as he used the last vestiges of life to slash at her with the knife.
"Marigold!" Hapi shouted, racing into the room, blackness pooling in her hands as she casted. A bolt of Darkness lanced out, stabbing the already dead man. "Holy shit."
"Oh Goddess," Marianne muttered, stumbling back. "I…I didn't even have to think."
"Great reaction time," Hapi praised, not noticing her discomfort.
"Yeah," Marianne accepted, gingerly stepping forward. The bright beacon in her hand grew, shedding light on the circular chamber.
Hapi cased the room quickly, hand outstretched with her signature Dark lightning flickering between her hands. "I think we're good." Post-battle calm settled into her and she finally took in the operating table. "Oh, fuck no."
"Hapi?" Marianne asked, tearing her eyes away from the corpse on the table. Her companion was hyperventilating. "Hapi!"
"Hey," Hapi choked out, unable to look away from the table. "I'm gonna wait outside. If you need me…um, try not to." She scampered out before Marianne could make it to her.
Marianne bit her lip and snagged a hefty book from the table that held various tools, none she recognized. A quick leaf through the pages told her it was research notes.
She took a final glance at the man on the table and stopped. Marianne knew this man.
Near a decade ago, Alister had taken her on a trip to Adrestia. It had been some political meeting, something she hadn't understood. But she'd met various nobles there that she scarcely remembered.
But she remembered enough to recognize Desmond von Varley, the former Count Varley.
Marianne held the book close to her chest and left the room, disturbed. The body looked long dead, judging from the decay, but that face. Rigor mortis didn't look that sharp after so long.
Pushing it from her mind, she made to catch up with Hapi.
"What the hell do you mean, an army?" Claude asked as he followed Lorenz along the city's walls. It still drizzled, so they needed to get closer.
"About a fifteen minutes ago our spotters saw an approaching army," Lorenz explained. "As soon as I heard, I got you. I don't know anything else."
They finally made it to the turret in the wall Lorenz had been leading him to. Hilda was already there, wringing her hands worriedly.
"What's the status?" he asked, squinting through the rain. Archers needed to have good eyesight by necessity, but there were limits to everyone. He saw the host, but couldn't make out anything.
"Looks pretty small to me," Hilda said, catching him up. "If it's Empire, it makes no sense to me. Think Count Varley's coming to reclaim her city?"
Lorenz shook his head. "Bernadetta's not an idiot."
"How would we know, she was in her room the entire academy year," Claude murmured, distracted. He placed a hand above his eyes to block out the rain.
"Could be orders?" Hilda suggested. "Like Edelgard ordered her to retake it?"
"That'd certainly be a quick turnaround. We've barely been here more than a day," Lorenz said.
"They're flying a flag," Claude said, making out a waving banner in the wind. "I can almost see—"
He stopped. Hilda huffed, "What?"
"Those are Goneril colors," Claude whispered.
Hilda snorted. "Check your eyes, Riegan. That army is way too small to be Holst's."
Lorenz' breath caught. "We haven't heard from Holst in weeks…"
Her eyes widened. "Wait. Lorenz, you're not implying—"
"Lorenz," Claude barked, already moving. "Muster up whatever healers we have available and then some. They probably have wounded. Hilda, you're with me. We're riding out there with Tishtar."
"Oh Goddess," Hilda whispered, raising a hand to her mouth in horror. "Sothis—"
"Hilda! Now!"
Felix pointed his sword at Dimitri, who had shrugged off his cloak by the fire. Dedue was standing, trying to interpose himself between the two of them as their argument raised in volume.
"You're running away," Felix accused, bringing his blade into a tighter two-handed grip as he pointed it. "Going south?"
"It is my duty," Dimitri snarled, holding his Relic at the ready. Fire nipped at the blue cloak by the fire.
"Your duty?" Felix mocked. "Your duty is to kill Edelgard? Fuck you, boar! Your duty is to your people!"
"Felix—" Dedue tried, but Felix took a step to the left, eyes burning into the man he'd once called friend.
"My own people won't even let me lead them," Dimitri roared through the forest. "You! Sylvain! Ingrid! None of you! You fight your battles in the north when the real war is in the south." He pounded the end of Areadbhar into the ground. "We should be marching south, not playing Cornelia's games."
"You wonder why you aren't our leader?" Felix shouted, his stance not betraying any of his anger. "Because you don't fucking think!"
"Watch it, Fraldarius," Dimitri growled.
Dedue placed himself between the two of them again, face as impassive as ever.
"Don't you give a damn about your people?" Felix screamed, voice raw. "Don't you care at all for their suffering? No, you don't, boar. All you care for is your petty revenge."
"How dare you." Dimitri stepped forward; his lance angled dangerously. "You would ignore those who have died?"
"I lost people too," Felix spat, crouching lower. "And I'm not reduced to an animal. Turn back, boar. This is your last chance to be king instead of a beast. Turn back, or I swear on my life I will bury this blade in your neck."
"Felix!" Dedue raised his voice.
"She must die, Felix," Dimitri said in a low tone. "And if I must kill you to make you understand, then I will."
"Look at you!" Felix shrieked, almost pleading. "How could you become this? How could you! We trusted you, loved you. Depended on you! Your people had hope, hope you would be the start of a golden age!" He got quiet, narrowing his eyes. "Where did that Dimitri go? Where did my friend go?"
"Maybe you're the one who changed," Dimitri said.
Felix shook his head. "No. I don't think so." The cloak caught fire, the blaze spreading through the dry grass and edging towards the nearby pine trees. Light wicked at Dimitri's face, showing the mask of sheer fury on his face.
No, not a mask. This was the real Dimitri, the one he'd always feared would win out.
"My friends forgive me," Felix rasped. What had he done to have to put down a second person close to him? "Goddess forgive me."
"You'll lose," Dimitri taunted. "All I need is to land one hit on you and you won't be going home to your husband."
Felix saw red and twisted to the right out of Dedue's way; firelight flickering in his polished blade.
Author Notes: I've mentioned it in responses to readers before, but I want to clarify that I will not be using the javelins of light in this story. I'd rather do something else, keep things fresh (and without fantasy nukes). Obviously, that raises some questions about the Agarthan plotline. But I'll address that later after a significant plotpoint.
Happy birthday to this fic! It's still so strange to think it's come so far, we're nearly at chapter 60! Wowzers. Thank you all for making this year absolutely fantastic by reading and commenting. You've made a world of difference to me. I cherish each of you for how you've helped me feel more confident in myself. Especially those of you who have been here since the beginning, thank you for believing in this story.
Editing Notes:
2/14/2022: Minor grammatical adjustments.