"Your name is too recognizable. We can't be having people know who you are. From now on, you are the Shrike."
Petra opened her eyes, wisps of morning light starting to creep over the ridge.
"Good, you're awake," Lysithea said, already packing up their camp. "If we make good time today, we should make it to Enbarr."
She pushed memories of Hubert from her mind, yawning. "Weather allowing," Petra said, gesturing to the cloudy sky above them.
Lysithea glanced up. "Weather allowing. I have a plan, as well."
"For getting into the castle?"
"For Hubert," Lysithea said, watching Petra. "It would require your help."
Petra said nothing.
"Are you…" Lysithea searched for the words. "No. I need your help."
"Okay," Petra said, wooden.
"I'm not happy about it either," she said. "But it's something we have to do. Kill him, and Brigid is free. Our way to Edelgard is open."
"And what about you?" Petra said, voice lowering. "You've been quiet about what you will do to her."
Lysithea flinched. "How do you mean?"
"Will you kill Edelgard?" Petra asked. "Or do you think you can reason with her?"
"She is…was important to me," Lysithea said. "I…I'm not sure."
"Killing Hubert gets you access to her," Petra said, a faint growl in her voice. "If I'm going to do…that, then I want your word that you will kill her."
"I…"
Petra stood up, picking up her sword from next to her bedroll. She strapped it to her belt. "If you don't agree, I'm gone. I'll take care of my problems myself."
"We'll stand a better chance together," Lysithea tried.
"Correct," Petra said. "So I need to know if I can trust you to do what needs to be done."
Lysithea was quiet as Petra packed up her things, preparing to move out.
"Have you made a decision?" Victor asked over breakfast.
Caspar sipped at his water. "I know what my decision is. The question is what I am willing to sacrifice over it."
Victor raised an eyebrow. "The Emperor herself gave orders to report to Myson. I can only cover for you for so long."
"I know. Thank you, for doing that."
"Of course. I will not make this decision for you. But nor can I spare you the consequences," Victor said, sighing. They could speak freely, both taking their breakfast in Caspar's office. They needed no guards as two of the most dangerous warriors in the Empire.
"It's just a squad he wants you to lead," Victor continued. "It does not seem like there is much risk in that."
"Then why is he so focused on it?" Caspar countered. "His insistence on me leading these Deadlords speaks to some ulterior motive."
"True," Victor allowed. "That's not an unreasonable conclusion. There is much I protect you from as your father, but not even I can stop the Emperor should she turn her attention to this. Myson will run to her if necessary, I don't doubt."
"I know," Caspar muttered.
"Tell me what you need," Victor said, "and I will do my utmost to grant it."
"You could send me on a mission?" Caspar thought aloud. "Send me to kill someone in the Alliance?"
Victor frowned. "I need you at my side, son. The Alliance took our home. If Arundel can't stop them, they'll come here. We need every asset to repel them."
"You think they can take Merceus?" Caspar asked, surprised.
"Yes. Anything is possible in war. I have not survived this long by underestimating my enemies." Victor smiled warmly. "Think on what I can do for you, my son. I must go and meet with the mages about the ballistae that arrived yesterday."
"I'll speak with Bernadetta about it," Caspar said. "See if she has any ideas."
Victor paused. "Forgive me. Are the two of you…?"
"Together?" Caspar asked. "No. Maybe…"
His father waited, listening.
"It's nothing. Maybe after the war there'll be something," Caspar said, shaking his head.
Victor laughed. "Good! It would do you well to have something to smile about. You've been so dour since I returned."
"Let's win this war, then," Caspar said, amused.
Cornelia had abandoned Fhirdiad.
It didn't sit right with Sylvain. What commander leaves their post on the eve of battle? He'd expected a long campaign against the city, but the loyalists arrived to a disorganized army. Mopping up the imperials had proved easy.
"How's the arm?" he said in lieu of a greeting.
Ashe glanced away from his view over the city. "Stiff," he said, stretching his right arm reflexively. "But feeling better." The end of the raw, red scar peeked out from his sleeve. It stretched all along his arm, going up to his shoulder. A present from the imperial commander of Fhirdiad.
"Good," Sylvain said, leaning on the parapet of the castle's wall. "Won't be long before Rowe."
The name left a bitter taste in his mouth. A week ago, as they entered the final stages of planning, they'd received terrible news. The loyalist rebels who had retaken Rowe were besieged by the Death Knight and on the verge of losing the city.
One of the reasons Sylvain detested leading was the decision he had to make. Retake the capital or march his army to death across the country to try and rescue his allies?
So here he stood in Fhirdiad, looking over the free city. Word had come last night that Rowe had fallen to the Empire again. The captured rebels were executed.
If they were unlucky, the Empire would reinforce Arianrhod, making their next battle that much harder. Maybe this had been Cornelia's plan the entire time. He sighed, not liking their options.
"I looked into that matter you asked me to," Ashe said, quietly.
Sylvain was glad that, in the absence of Felix, he had Ashe at his side. The man stood tall, long hair half up, looking over the city like the general he was. Without Ashe, Sylvain never would have made it this far. He was indispensable.
With how much both of them worked, they'd no doubt both be dead before their fiftieth years. Stress built up, and it had been a long five years. But hopefully, after it all, it would have been worth it.
"And?" Sylvian asked.
Ashe nodded. "It was her. I don't know how…but it was. The priest I spoke with told me her body was different. Modified."
"Modified?"
"Some sort of magic," Ashe guessed. "We don't know the exact nature of it. Or even if it was her. Maybe Cornelia created something artificial to taunt us."
"Is that possible?" Sylvain asked.
Ashe shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine. All I can say is that the person under that helmet was Annette."
He shivered. "It's eerie. She's been dead for years. To see her like that…"
"You should reach out to Claude," Ashe suggested. "Maybe he's encountered something similar in the south."
"Good idea," Sylvain said. "Though I can't imagine a messenger could reach them before we have to make a move."
"Worth a shot." Ashe shrugged.
"And Ingrid?" Sylvain asked.
"Ah," the archer said, looking down. "She's not taking it well."
They'd hoped to find Dimitri in the dungeons after his disappearance. The probability of their king being recaptured by the Empire was small, but possible. Ingrid had been holding onto every hope she had for the man she loved.
"Not surprised," Sylvain said. "Goddess, this war's going to kill us all in some way or another."
Ashe patted him on the back. "People are counting on us. We can't give up."
"I know," Sylvain murmured. "Just…tired."
"Take a night off," Ashe suggested. "I can take over the strategy meeting tonight."
"Will you, now?" Sylvain chuckled. "How're you going to fit that in with meeting with Lord Galatea? Or reorganizing the battalions? Or coordinating the supply lines?"
Ashe chuckled. "I'll manage."
"No, I'll be fine," Sylvain said. "Go, see Galatea. Maybe he can offer some advice about Ingrid."
"Maybe," Ashe said, not sounding hopeful. "Promise me after the meeting you'll get some rest, okay?"
"I'll do my best," Sylvain said.
It wasn't a promise, but it was the best either of them could hope for.
The Agarthan guard fell to the ground, an arrow lodged in his skull.
Bernadetta worked quickly, bending down and taking the black cloak. She threw it on, over her armor, pulling the hood up. It wouldn't hold up under scrutiny, but time was short. It had already been a day. Bernadetta worried that any longer would result in Indech's death.
Taking a breath, she entered into the Agarthan barracks. The first thing she noticed was the smell.
She gagged, the overpowering scent of rotting flesh assaulting her senses. Her hand reached out, grabbing the wall to catch herself. Goddess, it was dark too. How did these people see?
No, focus Bernie. No time for questions. His life depends on you.
I'm scared, she whimpered to herself.
Linhardt died while you sat in your room. Are you going to do the same for Indech?
Steeling herself, Bernadetta started to walk forward, keeping her hand on the wall. It was a slow march, the darkness and necessity for stealth killing any chance of speed. Her only advantage was knowing the layout—this barracks had the same floor plan as others in Merceus.
Her fingers, tracing along the wall, felt something moist. She nearly screamed, jumping back. What was that on her hand? Holding her palm close to her nose and sniffed. Blood. Why was there blood on the walls?
Goddess dammit, she should have brought a lantern. Or learned magic. Too late now.
Focus, she repeated to herself. Whatever was on the walls didn't matter. The path was ahead of her, straight forward.
But where were the Agarthans?
Shivering, she continued walking forward. Stay calm, she told herself. Stay calm. She bumped into a wall, the turn in the hallway that she expected. Looking left, she could see a faint light illuminating a closed door.
Stay calm, Bernie. End of the hallway's not far.
Each step took her closer, dread building in her stomach. If she opened that door, would the Agarthans be behind it? Goddess, there were supposed to be at least a hundred of them here. It was the dead of night, the chances all of them were patrolling Merceus were infinitesimal.
Stay calm.
She reached the door. Resting a hand on the knob, she twisted it. Dull light greeted Bernadetta on the other side in a small square room, lit only by a lantern hanging from a hook.
Along the far wall, Saint Indech. His head hung limp, strung up spread-eagle against the wall. Nails were pounded through his palms while his legs were bound and similarly maimed. The man had been crucified against the wall.
"No," Bernadetta muttered, crossing the room. "No, no." She held her blood covered hand up to his face. She felt air, faint, from his nose.
He was alive. Throwing back her hood, she felt for his pulse. It was there, but weak as well.
"Hang on," she murmured, drawing a vulnerary from her belt. Lifting his head, Bernadetta cursed, realizing she didn't know enough first aid to get him to drink something while unconscious.
"Shit," she whispered, making a decision. "Sorry." Reaching for one of the nails, she pulled with all her might. It tore out of his skin and the wall, a spout of blood following suit.
Indech gasped in pain, too weak to scream. But it did the job, his eyes fluttered open.
"Here," she urged, pressing the vulnerary to his mouth. "We don't have enough time."
He drank greedily, like a stranded man in a desert, then fell into her. She caught him, helping him back up and holding him there.
"Who?" he whispered, voice deprived of its light quality. Instead, it was the kind of rough only a night of screaming could bring.
"Bernadetta von Varley," she whispered. "I'm here to get you out of here."
"Var…ley?" Indech's eyes shut for a moment before opening again. Instead of a dazed expression, his eyes shook with the intensity of blood and thunder. "Varley? House Varley?"
"Yes?" she said, unsure what he meant.
"No!" he said, struggling against her. His expression was awake; he was lucid. "Get out of here!"
"I'm not leaving without you!" she said, reaching to pull the next nail out.
Indech pushed her away, weak as he was. "Goddess, listen to me! I won't have my descendant die for my sake. Go, get out of here!"
Bernadetta's eyes widened before shaking her head. She grabbed the second nail just as she heard a voice behind her.
"My, what a touching family reunion."
"You're alive!" Ashe gasped, hugging Felix without thinking the second he stepped through the gates to Castle Fhirdiad.
He grunted, the mostly healed wounds from Manuela throbbing. "Think I'd get killed?"
Ashe pulled back and gave him a look. "We sent you to bring a message to the Alliance and you never returned. Can you blame us?"
Fair. "Sylvain thinks I'm dead?"
"No," Ashe said. "But he's certainly been worried. Where have you been?"
"Helped out the Alliance repel an attack on Derdriu," he said simply. Felix's eyes narrowed. "Have you not heard about it?"
Ashe shook his head. "We've been cut off from a lot of information lately. Last we heard, Alliance took Varley."
"Wish I had more to give you," Felix said. "I've been on the road for a while. Something…something happened on the way here."
"What?" Ashe asked.
Goddess, he had to tell everyone about Dimitri. He had to tell Ingrid about Dimitri.
"I'll tell everyone at once," he said, avoiding it for the time being. "Later. Where's Sylvain?"
"Strategy meeting with the army's leadership," Ashe said.
"And you're not there?" Felix asked.
"Someone's got to take care of everything else." Ashe laughed.
Not knowing what else to say, Felix just nodded. Ashe seemed to understand, though. "Go see him. He needs good news. We can talk later."
Felix said a hurried thanks and took off as soon as Ashe finished talking.
He couldn't find her. Caspar returned to his office with a frown, Bernadetta unfound. After this long, he thought he knew all her hiding spots in the fort. Maybe there was a new one?
On his desk, an envelope sat on top of the scattered papers. Caspar glanced at it, not recognizing the wax seal. Pulling a knife from his belt, he broke the seal and opened it.
His eyes widened in horror and he dropped the letter. Seconds later, he was grabbing his armor. The speed at which he put it on was second to none, the kind only experience could bring. Grabbing his weapons, a silver axe and his hammer, Caspar smashed through the door in a hurry.
Please, don't make me be too late, he prayed for the first time in years. Goddess, favor me once, please.
On his desk, the letter lay. The paper was neatly folded with a few choice words written in Myson's sharp handwriting.
Come and get her.
Author Notes: Mmm now that's a good cliffhanger.
Greetings from Faerghus! About time we got our northern boys back on screen. Everything with Faerghus has kept getting restructured and changed over the past thirty chapters . I'm finally confident enough with the plan to start moving forward with the north. Thank you for your patience.
Editing Notes:
2/16/2022: Minor grammatical adjustments.