Author's Notes:

Golden Zero16- Ghalib would consider a serious invasion of Fódlan, but he's smart enough to only do it if he knew he had a legitimate chance of winning. He stirs up zealotry in his army for his own benefit, but he doesn't have an irrational hatred of Fódlan himself. If he did invade in earnest, it would only be to increase his power. As it currently stands, he would have to win the war in Almyra before even asking that question. It would really come down to whether Fódlan is in position to defend itself by the time Ghalib secured Almyra and just how beat up his own army is. Almyra is definitely his primary goal, but you're right, Ghalib's victory would be gravely detrimental for foreign relations.

Chapter 18

Day 15 of the Lone Moon, Imperial Year 1182

Dimitri gazed upward as rain began to sprinkle his body. His lengthening hair captured most of the water, but several droplets still got into his eyes. He didn't care, as the sky remained the only sight that brought any sense of cheer or hope.

The dim alley he sat in was packed with the starving homeless of Fhirdiad, many hacking with consumption or shivering in the cold. The rain helped clear some of the grime, but the dirt transferred from the walls and bodies to the road would quickly be replenished.

Sustenance was scarce, but the people who frequented the street had formed something of an alliance. If someone managed to get ahold of food, it would be shared with all of the neighbors. This way, despite the paltry portion sizes, everyone would survive another day. Dimitri was given some as well, though the others were too intimidated by the hulking beast to stay around to visit. The street was crowded, but he was offered a bit more clearance than the rest.

Other than the rain, the day had started ordinarily. Dimitri went into high alert, though, when he heard marching soldiers draw closer. Patrols had become commonplace in Fhirdiad since the coup, but Dimitri's worry was vindicated when soldiers began to amass on both ends of the alley, lances and swords at the ready.

A man serving as the captain of the patrol stepped forward and loudly announced, "Despite our previous warnings, the occupants of this street have taken no action to clear the city. Per orders of Lady Cornelia, we are to personally escort all noncomplying vagrants out of the capital. Fhirdiad will no longer tolerate blight within its walls."

Many of the denizens drew away from the soldiers, huddling and whispering in fear. One elderly woman that often acted as a leader stood, motioned for her friends to calm, and then walked towards the patrol.

"We mean no trouble, captain. When we heard you were unhappy with our old location, we moved here away from public eyes. No one of importance comes this way. Please understand. We can't leave the city. No one has anywhere else to go."

The captain grimaced. "Then blame the choices that led you to this pitiable state, not me. My duty is to purge this city, and I will adhere to it."

Sensing that her efforts were falling on deaf ears, the woman reached forward to make a more desperate, personal appeal. Mistaking this as a hostile advance, a soldier near the captain drove a sword through the lady's chest. There was a pause as the homeless screamed and the captain winced when the woman fell dead. He quickly gathered himself, though.

"Enough of this. Soldiers, clear this alley immediately!" the captain demanded in disgust.

Dimitri grunted as the patrol began to harshly yank the crying helpless off the street and drag them out of the alley. Dedue had retrieved some of Dimitri's personal effects before the escape, but the only weapon he managed to give the prince was Edelgard's dagger. Anything large enough to be readily visible would be quickly confiscated from a vagabond wandering the streets, anyways. Needing more, Dimitri grabbed a loose piece of masonry on the street before he stood and approached the nearest soldier.

"If you would be so kind, would you please com-."

The man halted his speech when he realized Dimitri was inimical, but he was unable to react before Dimitri crushed his head with the stone. Another recruit cried out when she realized what happened, but Dimitri swiftly drove El's dagger into her neck.

By this time, the whole patrol was beginning to realize there was a serious issue at hand. The captain pointed towards Dimitri. "Someone stop that man!" he ordered.

Despite Dimitri's size and training, it would be difficult to stop them all at once. He kicked the first arrival in the stomach, launching him to the soldiers behind. As they tumbled to the ground, another neared him from the other end of the alley. Dimitri dodged the soldier's swing and drove El's dagger into the enemy's chest.

Dimitri stared in dismay. The "soldier" he had just murdered was no man. It was a boy that could be no older than thirteen or fourteen- close to the same age Dimitri was at Duscur. He released the dagger and watched the boy fall dead.

Was this Cornelia's idea of a soldier? Was this how young she recruited them? Or was this just the natural continuation of Faerghus's martial culture? Dimitri was only a couple years older when he first went into combat, after all.

The ill-fated prince wasn't ready when he heard the footsteps of another soldier splash through the puddles from behind. This soldier lunged forward with his lance aimed at Dimitri's exposed face. Dimitri grabbed the shaft and tried to push it away. He was quick enough to avoid this brush with death, but there was a strange sensation as his right vision blurred.

Ignoring this, Dimitri snapped off the upper half of the shaft with his left forearm and then drove the end through the soldier's chest. He was just as young as the previous foe. When Dimitri heard another approaching from behind, he did not even bother to look as he swung his fist at the next enemy's temple. The sound of his prey's body being dashed against the wall was almost nauseating.

"Pull back, pull back! Now!" the captain yelled, comprehending that he had lost control of the situation. "We need reinforcements."

Despite all the ceremony, the patrol was clearly not accustomed to its victims putting up a fight. The soldiers abandoned all of their prisoners during the retreat. Some of the homeless crawled towards their dead mentor, while others gawked at the five dead combatants.

Dimitri slumped against one of the walls, breathing heavily. His wound was more serious than he initially appreciated.

A girl in her teenage years with long, tangled hair approached Dimitri and tremblingly reached out a piece of torn cloth.

"Sir… You've been hurt. Let me help you."

"I don't need help," Dimitri muttered.

"But-."

"Leave. You can't stay here."

The girl stopped and blinked. "I don't understand. You've scared them away."

"And they'll come back, next time with more. Leave with your lives. Find somewhere else where they aren't looking."

She reached towards him again. "Okay, but let me fir-."

"Go!" Dimitri roared in frustration.

The girl wisely listened this time, albeit reluctantly. As the alley reverberated with the echo of the occupants' evacuation, Dimitri watched the blood that trailed down his face drip into the puddles on the pavement. The blood mixed with the water and dissolved into nothing, leaving only a memory.

At the Drop of Destiny - Day 11 of the Wyvern Moon, Year 1186 (Fódlan Calendar)

In an impressive display of logistical preparation, the armies of Elam and Shomal independently arrived on the banks of the Shahrud on the exact scheduled day and began a combined march to the west. Ghalib led his army out of the citadel, as expected, but he demonstrated some patience by not immediately intercepting his opponents. He instead waited until they reached the Sous River. Here, his forces set up a position on the western shore.

This decision gave Ghalib a trivial moral high ground in that his opponents would cross into his territory first, but the decision was more likely driven by the presence of literal high ground. While the eastern bank of the river was flat and low, the western side was shrouded in the shadows of cliffs around one hundred feet high. The elevation gradually tapered off further downstream, eventually allowing passage across the river. Dimitri and his companions would soon be marching into the Tabarzin at that location.

The location Ghalib had selected was at the highest point. Falling from the top of this precipice would have been daunting even if the river were as deep as the Airmid, but the shallowness of the Sous River ensured that no one could survive the jump. According to wyvern scouts, the hill actually continued somewhat past the cliff edge. Their enemy was centered upon its summit. Faruq's allies wanted a swift battle while the insurrections had no need to rush, which meant Ghalib was in the position to pick the terrain of his choice.

The king's army had pitched camp on the eastern shore halfway between Ghalib's forces and the passage up the cliffs. Dimitri sat with Marianne, Ariella, Farjad, and Khabash while Khalid met with the other commanders.

As he waited for the prince's return, Dimitri reached up and laid a finger on his eyepatch. He did not want to be the same person that led his friends to ruin; even so, his injury was a constant reminder of the consequences of hesitation. Dimitri believed that Khalid was innocent, but could he really know for sure? What if he was on the wrong side of this conflict? Ghalib's justifications for suspecting the prince were not entirely unsound. The mirza's argument had a few deficiencies, yes, but was Dimitri really getting an unbiased perspective from Khalid?

In the end, though, it didn't matter. If he questioned any of it out there, he would be dead before nightfall. He had to unburden himself of any doubts and become no more than a blade for Khalid's will.

Was he beginning to sound like Dedue?

Khalid soon rejoined his companions. Seeing his serious expression, Ariella probed, "Is the assignment that bad?"

The prince shrugged. "I guess it depends on how you look at it. On one hand, we've been tasked with arguably the most critical role of the battle. That also means it's one of the most dangerous."

"They trust us that much with that responsibility?" Khabash asked hopefully.

"It's less that they trust us and more that the job has fallen into our laps. Let me explain why." Khalid pointed upstream, where some of Ghalib's banners could be seen jutting out from the hills above. "Given the geography, we'll be attacking from the north. The cliffs obviously prohibit any attempt to circumvent their right with ground units, so they've positioned the bulk of their archers along the rim to make sure we don't try flanking with our wyverns. These archers will be covered by an infantry line, of course, but it will still be their most vulnerable point. They'll be willing to compromise there because they will expect our cavalry to be deployed on their left flank where we actually have room to maneuver."

"And they'll make that assumption for good reason," Farjad noted. "Please don't tell me they plan to cram us against the cliffs. Dealing with footed archers is not a good matchup for us. They'll shoot farther and faster."

"That's not the plan- at least, not at first. We'll start the attack on their left, indicating a desire to flank and pressure them into the cliffs. Just as they've gotten complacent about the pace of the battle, though, my command will pull back, ride to the other side using our infantry to obscure our movements, and then lead a charge along the cliffs. We should be able to slice right through their unsuspecting archers."

"Wouldn't backing them against the cliffs make more sense?" Dimitri questioned. "It would render a retreat much more difficult for them."

"A logical assumption, and another reason they'll be surprised." Khalid explained, "Instead doing what they anticipate, we'll create a pincer to compress them onto the peak of the hill. At the same time we charge, our wyverns will press an advance on the other side. Our enemies' wyvern riders are padded out by Sentinels who, frankly, have more experience on the ground than in the air. We'll toy with them at first and then overwhelm them with our full strength. Senusret and Demetrius are both confident that it will work."

"If our wyverns are capable of that, why not start there and forget the whole cavalry charge?" Khabash asked. "I agree with Dimitri. We'd be better off forcing them into the cliff than on the hill."

Khalid shook his head. "The concern is with the archers. If it's obvious that no attack will be coming from the east, it will be too easy for them to shift over and stall our wyvern advance. Somebody needs to thrash those archers or our best soldiers are going to be picked out of the sky."

Khabash motioned his assent. "Fair enough. Satiah wouldn't appreciate that."

"I still don't understand why it has to be us," Farjad insisted. "Why not have Anthony lead the charge?"

"If Anthony spun his horses around, it would be obvious that we were setting up a strategy. If it's me, though, it will just look like a spineless prince running back to his mother. Like I said, it's because it makes the most sense, not because they trust us. I wouldn't be surprised if a few of our generals are hoping I won't make it back."

Khalid then faced their healer. "The plan will be a bit different for you, Marianne. You'll get to partake in our charge since your magic will help scare them. Many of our opponents will be seeing combat magic for the first time. Before that, though, we're going to have you behind the frontlines. Whenever you see one of our soldiers pulling back due to injury, ride over and see what you can do. Be careful, though, as you'll still be within range of their arrows. Wherever you are, you'll be able to see us when we make our move, so fall in with us as we pass by."

Marianne indicated that she understood. As no one else had any questions, Khalid crossed his arms seriously and continued, "To summarize, it's going to be a game of patience until we get the signal. We'll peel back and then launch assaults on both sides. The enemy will instinctively retreat towards favorable ground under duress, but that will pull them deeper into our snare." He then began to gather his belongings. "There's not much time to waste. We're supposed to be on the march promptly."

As everyone began to organize their effects, Marianne stood up unsteadily and tried with raised arms, "If it's okay to ask again… are we sure this is necessary?"

Of the group, Marianne had been forced into the most armor. They had relented to her demands of keeping her hands free and not using a full helmet, though that arguably made her appearance look all the more ridiculous. Not only was Marianne heavily adorned, but Dorte was also laden with plated mail not offered to the majority of the other horses.

Khalid apologized, "I'm afraid so, Marianne. You're lighter than most of us, so the extra weight won't bother your mount as much. Not to mention, Dorte is larger and stronger than the rest. And since your main purpose is healing, not fighting, it's more important that we keep you alive than it is for you to be quick and limber."

Marianne sighed and lowered her head sadly, but Khabash put a comforting hand on her drooped shoulder and suggested, "I know it's not pleasant to wear, but think of it this way- Prince Khalid is saying that you're the most important person here! In comparison, I'm maybe only half as essential. I mean, look- my forearms and shins are completely exposed. As for that poor fellow sitting over there… well, he's lucky to be estimated at even a third of your value."

The attire of the army as a whole varied quite widely. A few used heavy armor comparable to that of Marianne. The commanders and wealthier soldiers usually wore coats over chainmail, while the less affluent might be lucky to have a gambeson or a leather vest and shield. Some forewent armor altogether in the name of mobility. Most of the cavalry fell somewhere in the middle of these extremes. For headgear, about half wore cloth turbans while the rest wore pointed helmets with aventails. Dimitri found it odd that the heavy and light cavalry were not broken into entirely separate units, but presumably they would serve somewhat unique functions that complimented each other.

Khalid peered ahead and told Khabash, "If you have time to calculate nonsensical equations, I hope that means you're ready to go. I can see our regiment already assembling up there."

The prince and his retainers linked up with Anthony at the head of the Mobile Guard. They were accompanied by cavalry from Shomal. Though Shomal's squadrons technically remained independent of Elam, it seemed that Anthony acted as their primary commander in practice. Similarly, the wyvern corps from Elam appeared to answer to Senusret. Given how important these two groups were, it was understandable that leadership needed to be consolidated.

Once the cavalry was fully assembled, they led the way for the infantry across the Sous. While they slowly trudged through the water, careful to keep their horses from slipping on the loose pebbles, Ariella pulled up beside Khalid and Dimitri.

"I know you told me to stay back with the queen, but are you sure there's nothing more I can do? I want to help," she requested.

"Are you skilled with a lance, a bow, or with magic?" Khalid asked rhetorically. "If the answer is no, then the best thing you can do is help keep watch. I don't need you to commit to a suicide charge just to prove your loyalty."

Dimitri winced at that last comment, but he added, "Khalid is right. Even if you do little today, we still rely on you elsewhere. There's no reason to throw that away."

Ariella exhaled loudly. "Okay. If everyone's so sure about it. But if this is all I'm ever going to be allowed to do, I might as well stay home next time."

"Whatever 'next time' is, it hopefully won't be us going into battle again," Khalid reminded.

Once they reached the western bank, Ariella waited for the queen while rest began the climb up. As they ascended, they got their first clear look at the battlefield. The area was completely uninhabited. It was, however, covered in tall grass that occasionally hid unexpected undulations. There were some patches of trees in the vicinity, but the hill that Ghalib had chosen was free of forestation. Now seeing the full scale of the knoll, Dimitri was not enthused about fighting uphill. The slope was not steep, but it was very long. It would be exhausting for both man and beast.

As expected, the vast majority of the opposing army appeared to be from the Tabarzin. Many were adorned similarly to the soldiers from Elam and Shomal, though he noticed that some had adopted armor that looked remarkably similar to that of Fódlan. Perhaps artistic exchange across the Throat was more common than the Tabarzin armorers would probably admit. As for the Meteorans, most of those present were recognizable by distinct lamellar armor indicating that they belonged to the Sentinels of the Empyrean.

Dimitri felt his stomach increasingly churning with each step closer to the enemy. It wasn't due to fear. It was instead out of revulsion that humanity was eager to repeat the same mistakes so quickly. Just as the dark side of civilization had torn apart his homeland, he was about to watch many more die for the vanity of the strong. Countless families were already forever broken, friendships crushed or severed. How many more would join their ranks? How many orphans and widows would be forced into the streets or lose their will to live?

While a tent was pitched for Tiana and Soraya on a short ridge about a quarter of a mile from Ghalib's line, the Mobile Guard moved to form what would become the alliance's right flank. Once his soldiers were in place, Anthony rode to its front. He announced, "Khalid and I will ride out to meet the mirza. To be frank, this is likely only a formality. Don't hold hope that hostilities can still be avoided. We will return soon."

Khalid turned to Dimitri and asked, "Want to come along? It's customary to bring a few retainers for protection. No offense to Marianne, but even with her armor, I think you're still more likely to intimidate my uncle."

Dimitri assented, so the three rendezvoused with the other important figures of the king's army. Several other guards accompanied them, most of whom Dimitri recognized as members of the Shakiriyya.

The party waited at the midpoint between the two armies. They did not wait long before Ghalib and his most important supporters arrived.

Ghalib named as he pointed to each of his companions, "I come attended by my son Darius, Spahbed Youtab, Prince Abbas of Elam, Lord Philemon of Meteora, and Master Xanthippe of the Sentinels of the Empyrean."

There was a certain air of smug superiority radiated by Ghalib and Darius. Youtab, Xanthippe, and Philemon were stern but otherwise unemotional. Dimitri was somewhat shaken to see Philemon stand so resolutely against the king after their amiable conversation at the citadel, but he should not have been surprised based on what Ariella shared about the former regent's past. Abbas presented the weakest front. He was unable to look most of Elam's commanders in the eye out of shame. He could have been mistaken for an unwilling hostage were it not the hateful glare whenever his gaze happened in the direction of Khalid.

Tiana handled announcements. She did not sound like she enjoying the proceedings as much as the mirza. "Princes James and Khalid of Elam, Agha Demetrius, Commander Anthony of the Mobile Guard, Sardar Soraya of Shomal, Senusret, Protector of Shomal… and, of course, myself in representation of our king."

Ghalib bowed in acknowledgement and then began, "I'm sorry that it's come to this, sister. I've heard about the severity of Faruq's injuries. As sorry as I am for that, at least it means he won't endanger himself here."

"Your politeness is only outmatched by your hypocrisy. Let's not waste time. What are the demands of the mirza?" Tiana asked.

"Just as I have already stated- since you have demonstrated no intention to punish Khalid yourself, I demand the traitor to be handed to my authority. For our troubles, though, I would like to make one small addition..."

Ghalib cast a quick glance towards Dimitri- or rather, his lance. He then said while pointing, "I want the weapons belonging to Prince Khalid and his retainer. Those arms are of a class that have haunted our border for generations. I've had the misfortune to see one firsthand. They belong with our land's defenders, not with seditionists and foreigners."

The former prince of Faerghus smiled pensively. Ghalib referred to Freikugel, Hero's Relic of House Goneril. The stories of its power were apparently true. Dimitri found it a little reassuring to have outside confirmation that his knowledge of Fódlan's border situation was not entirely unfounded. It was easy for an Adrestian to talk sanctimoniously about the societal role of crests and relics coming from a place where they were little more than bragging rights for petty nobles. In the Kingdom and Alliance, though, the relics and their wielders still had an essential defensive function, and no solution for the problems confronting Fódlan would be complete without addressing that fact. Dimitri also couldn't help but feel a little amused that the weapon that Hilda had once described to him as "gross and weird" inspired such fear.

"The first demand is already unacceptable as it is, so there's no use quibbling over the details," Tiana dismissed. "Ironic that you should accuse the prince of sedition, Ghalib, when you are the one who marches against the banner of the king."

Ghalib retorted, "Only because my brother's banners are carried by fools supporting the man responsible for all of this."

"The only fool here is you, Mirza Ghalib," Demetrius accused unprompted. "You hope to take full control of Almyra, yet you ally yourself with someone who also wishes to call himself king. Where is King Justinian, anyways? Surely such a brave ruler would want to personally lead his followers into combat."

"You would do well to not address the mirza again," Youtab warned him, her hands shaking with anger. "But I suppose such behavior is to be expected from a crippled, inebriated renegade. Were there truly no better options in Nader's absence?"

Demetrius began, "You could take one of these hands in full and a few fingers to boot, and I would still be an equal match for a woman who thinks a title provides justification for titillative murde-."

"That's quite enough," Xanthippe interrupted. "I have no interest in listening to idle slander. The Sentinels do not look upon such behavior kindly. You should know better, Demetrius."

Dimitri found himself agreeing with Xanthippe- standing around hurling insults would accomplish nothing. Her words convinced Demetrius and Youtab to sullenly cease their barrage.

With silence achieved, Philemon answered Demetrius's original question. "My nephew Justinian of course wishes he could be here. Unfortunately, there were other issues to attend to at home. Your haste to spill Ghalib's blood rendered our schedules quite full."

"I thought we were doing you all a service," Soraya said. "Mirza Ghalib seemed rather impatient to proceed with hostilities in his letters. Waiting for a simple investigation into the incident in the Mikdash was out of question, after all. I wonder why that was…"

Ghalib shook his head. "This is going nowhere. Prince Khalid… Darius and I are both willing to duel you to prove our honor. If any shred of your own remains after what you've done, you would readily accept. The blood of your friends will otherwise be on your hands."

"Sorry uncle, but I'm going to pass on it this time," Khalid declined.

The mirza spun his horse around. "Very well. Surrender with honor, and I will spare the rest of your lives. I have nothing more to say."

As Ghalib's host rode away, Soraya observed simply, "That went about as expected."

Tiana nodded. "Everyone, you know your duty. May you be blessed with good fortune," she prayed before withdrawing.

During the ride back, Anthony told his companions, "For reasons I'll never understand, people start to lend credibility to a lie when the prevaricator repeats it enough times with enough bluster. But at the end of the day, it's still a lie. Don't let your uncle get into your head, Prince Khalid."

Khalid smiled. "I'll be fine… I've heard much worse. But thank you for your concern, Anthony. Stay safe out there."

Once in position, it was only a matter of waiting for the signal. Communication on an Almyran battlefield was rather complex, utilizing messengers, Meteoran horns, trumpets, and flags. Dimitri did not know what most of them meant, but he was informed that a trumpet would indicate their first charge.

When the instrument sounded, there was a moment before anyone moved. It was if no one could believe their ears. As one horseman gave a cry, though, the rest joined in unison. The battlefield came alive as their army charged forward. Ghalib's infantry waited patiently, while the mounted units mirrored the movements of their enemy.

Dimitri knew what was expected of him. Rather than wield Areadbhar, he would first use a light bow to pester the Tabarzin cavalry. The regiments spun about each other in what almost looked like a dance, constantly trying to outflank the opposing force while showering them with arrows. Riders often slipped to hang from the side of their horses to avoid enemy projectiles. This constant, delicate motion added to the imagery of a dance. These techniques were not common in Fódlan, but Dimitri thankfully had months of practice.

Every so often, one side would draw their secondary weapons and make a charge to see if they could break the enemy's organization and force a full retreat. It was here that Dimitri made an impression.

Swords had difficulty slicing through chain mail, so they were primarily used either as blunt tools or against exposed limbs. Spears were more effective, but their thrusts required precise aim that was difficult when both units were on horseback.

Areadbhar was another story. Dimitri's lance cut through the first Tabarzin soldier within its range like the chain mail was no more durable than butter. The Tabarzin cavalry nearly crumbled as he killed three more, though they finally rallied enough to push Dimitri's friends back. He was about to press forward anyways when someone hit him in the shoulder with the blunt end of a pole. It was Farjad.

"Don't be asinine, Dimitri," Farjad cautioned as he turned his horse around. "Stay up here alone and you'll have every bow in the Tabarzin aimed at you. No enchanted lance will save you from that."

"Right…" Dimitri muttered reluctantly before falling back with the rest. Khalid had been nearby as well, likely ready to drag Dimitri out if Farjad wasn't able to convince him.

The Tabarzin cavalry's first charge failed spectacularly, and they afterwards focused primarily on defensive maneuvers. Elam's next assault ended similarly to their first, though no one had to remind Dimitri to withdraw this time. Before they launched their third charge, though, Dimitri's bow spun out of his hands when a projectile grazed his fingers. The cuts weren't deep, but the arrowhead managed to take a bite out of every finger on his right hand but his thumb. He tried to push through the pain, but it quickly became clear that he couldn't use his lance effectively. He cursed and wheeled away from the frontlines.

As he rode to where he saw Marianne in the distance, Dimitri surveyed the full scope of the battlefield for the first time. The infantry lines were constantly pushing each other forward and backward. Troops could be seen recovering close behind the main line, preparing to lead the next advance. By this time, the number of bodies was beginning to accumulate.

The wyvern corps were at the very far right of the battlefield past the cavalry, careful to avoid the range of the mounted archers below. The movements of the corps were similar to that of the cavalry, with the exception that an additional spatial dimension was at play. As Dimitri watched, a wyvern in Shomal's colors was downed in dramatic fashion. He did not want to imagine how upsetting it would be for everyone if it was Satiah plummeting to the ground.

Dimitri waited for a few seconds while Marianne finished tending to a woman serving in the infantry. Once complete, Marianne turned her focus to Dimitri's hand.

"What happened?" she asked as he began her work.

The warm tingling in his fingers felt uncomfortable, but it was not a new experience for Dimitri. "An arrow, I think. I didn't see it, but it couldn't have been anything else."

"Is everyone else okay?"

"Of our friends, yes. Khalid's cheek was cut by something, probably a ricochet. Khabash and Farjad are fine."

"That's good. You've been fortunate. The casualty rate is a lot higher than that based on what I've seen."

"How are you doing?" Dimitri asked her.

"I'm unharmed."

"I'm glad to hear it, but that's not exactly what I was trying to ask."

Marianne sighed as she understood. "… It's a lot to bear. I'm not strong enough to help all of these people."

Just as Marianne pulled her hand away, a horn played a two-note ditty at Tiana's headquarters, which was within shouting distance of their location. At the same time, a signaler raised a new flag.

Dimitri watched as their cavalry made a sudden push forward in response. This one seemed to go wrong from the start, though. Somewhere between a quarter and a third of the regiment quickly went into full retreat in Dimitri and Marianne's direction.

Despite knowing the plan, it took Dimitri a moment to realize that it wasn't a retreat at all. He turned to Marianne and told her, "I think that's our signal."

"O-oh, right."

Marianne looked uncomfortably at several members of the infantry limping in their direction. As callous as it may have felt, though, the best way to stop the bloodshed was to turn the tides of battle instead of helping the wounded one at a time.

Dimitri and Marianne urged their horses into a trot and merged alongside their comrades.

"I hope you two weren't getting cozy back here while we did all the fighting," Khabash joked as they made the turn to ride parallel to the cliffs. "That lance of yours really is something. Are you still certain I can't use it?"

It was difficult to converse over the noise, but Dimitri felt it would be rude to not answer. "If I changed my mind, wouldn't I have let you borrow it while I was getting cozy?"

Khabash bellowed with earnest laughter. "Look, he jests now! That's something to see!"

The footed archers of both armies had gotten complacent. It was impossible to get a clean aim at the enemy infantry without risking their own soldiers, so they had fallen back some distance from each other in order to avoid having to trade shots. That was fine for the king's archers, but those from the Tabarzin were given a rude wake-up when a horde of cavalry materialized from behind Elam's infantry line at full speed with weapons drawn.

Had they been paying attention to the flags being frantically waved at them from the top of the hill, the archers should have realized the danger. Instead, they were completely unprepared as they loosed a disorganized volley at the cavalry. A few horses were downed, but most of the arrows were deflected by either armor or raised shields. The thin infantry line defending the archers made a valiant stand, but only the lucky avoided being trampled.

Khalid's squadron began to cut away at the panicked archers once through. Many fled up the slope. Some tried to defend themselves, though, including two that landed hits on Dimitri's mount. Its rider just barely managed to roll away before being crushed as the horse crumpled.

Dimitri dropped Areadbhar when he fell. As he reached for his weapon, he heard someone coming at him from behind. He probably could have dodged, but he was unable to test that theory when Khabash drove a spear through the man's chest. With this extra time, Dimitri then finished the assailant off as planned.

"Lost your horse, too?" Dimitri asked.

Khabash answered, "He took a lance to the belly when we first broke the line. He lasted long enough that I didn't immediately realize it."

There wasn't much time to talk. Sensing an opportunity to overwhelm their unhorsed foes, the survivors from the infantry line began to swarm them, several of which were armored. Khabash and two fellow soldiers that lost their horses would be unable to cut through the enemies' defenses, and it seemed infeasible that Dimitri could handle them all on his own.

Thankfully, he didn't have to try going it alone. The first opponent that neared the group was felled from a single arrow loosed from Failnaught. The next one stood no chance when a beam of plasma fired from over Dimitri's shoulder struck its target directly in the chest. Two more were knocked back by the blast of Marianne's Thoron spell despite not even receiving the direct impact. Those who weren't physically affected ran all the same in terror.

"You know, Dimitri, it's not often that I get to stand taller than you. I could get used to this," Khalid observed. "There's a loose horse over there you can take. Khabash, you're probably light enough to join me. Give me your hand."

"I thought you'd never ask," Khabash teased.

Dimitri turned to follow Khalid's order, but before he reached the horse, he heard Khalid yell out, "Hold, hold!" to the entire squadron.

The prince squinted in the distance back towards their original position. When Dimitri followed his gaze, he was shocked to see their field quarters being swarmed by enemy wyverns. There weren't many of them, and Elam's reserves and footed archers had moved to handle the threat. Given that and the efforts of the Shakiriyya, Tiana and Soraya would probably be safe.

Their lords did not seem to be the primary targets, however. Rather, the wyverns were harassing their signalers. They had expected to see a flag indicating that they had broken the Tabarzin's right flank and, if the battle was going well on the other side of the hill, another flag signaling that the left flank was crumbling as well. Instead, all that could be perceived was chaos.

Dimitri knew the predicament that Khalid faced. If they pushed through the enemy line at the same time that Senusret forced the enemy's left wing to collapse, they would have Ghalib's army firmly within their pincer attack. If Ghalib's left flank held, however, Elam's cavalry would be wedged behind enemy lines alone. The center of the opposing army could adjust to close the hole, and Khalid's squadron would likely be slaughtered. They could try riding all the way around the army or just fleeing south, but it would be difficult to make it back without facing either the Tabarzin cavalry or wyverns alone. Anyone unhorsed would be as good as dead. The hill blocked their view of the opposite wing of the battlefield, and with communication severed, there was no way for Khalid to know how their wyvern corps were fairing.

A fellow soldier rode up beside Khalid and asked the obvious question, "What are we doing? If we don't keep moving, we're going to los-."

The woman paused when she observed something farther up the hill. Everyone else saw it, too, but there was little they could do. A portion of the archer regiment had rallied and formed a new line higher up. Their bows were aimed in unison at Khalid's companions.

Dimitri had just enough time to slide behind a fallen horse as the volley loosed. He heard two arrows pierce the flesh of the carcass acting as his shield. Several horses screamed in agony, and bodies could be heard tumbling to the ground. Dimitri watched Farjad crawl to safety nearby, leaving a streak of blood behind him wherever his thigh brushed across the grass. He then raised his head enough to confirm that Khalid and Khabash had both been unhorsed. Their horse had survived but was now bolting across the field alone.

Both men were left completely exposed to another volley. As the archers readied their bows, Khabash helped Khalid to his feet and wrapped an arm around him. The prince appeared to have injured his shin or ankle after his fall, perhaps from being stepped on, and needed assistance walking. Khabash could have fled much faster on his own, but he wasn't about to abandon Khalid.

"Come on, you have to keep moving!" Khabash encouraged. "I swear, this isn't the way you're goin-."

Khabash was cut off when the second volley loosed. Dimitri ducked as the arrows sprang towards their targets. When he sat up to survey the damage, he saw that Khalid had fallen to the ground. He had received no new injuries, but the person that had kept him standing had released his grip. This was because three arrows had buried deep into Khabash's back.

Khabash hunched forward slightly, but he managed to stay on his feet. Using willpower alone, he refused to let his body expire despite impossible odds. After two or three seconds, though, he had expended the last of this miracle. Khabash was dead by the time he hit the ground. As if in a last act of service, he landed on Khalid to protect him from the next volley.

The next volley never came. Another spell had been fired at the crowd, delaying the attack just long enough. A trumpet sounded, and a flag was being waved on the hill's summit. This time, the archers were dutifully paying attention to their commands. They took off in the other direction to face a new threat.

There was only one logical cause. Soon enough, they had visual confirmation that Senusret's wyverns had broken through the line. It was an intrepid effort on their part; unfortunately, the failure to eliminate the archers rendered the gains untenable. The wyverns did their best to harass the enemy, but they were quickly taking heavy casualties. It was only a matter of time before they would need to retreat.

With the moment of opportunity they had, Dimitri ran to Khalid's side and lifted him to his feet, careful to move Khabash aside as respectfully as possible.

"Now… now's our chance. We have to go forward…" Khalid mumbled under his breath as if he had to first convince himself of that truth while fumbling with his dwindling supply of arrows. "I'm not running while my friends die for me. Not again."

"You can't do much of anything in this state," Dimitri opposed.

"Then find me a healer."

They found Marianne restoring Farjad's leg. The warrior of Shomal was breathing rapidly and shallowly. Even with his wound closed, he clawed away at the grass muttering inarticulately. Dimitri was unsure of Dorte's whereabouts.

Dimitri helped Khalid sit down so Marianne could start her treatment. However, he soon had to ready Areadbhar again.

"You might need to move back. We've got company," Dimitri told them.

The archers were gone, but some of the infantry that originally compromised the center of Ghalib's army had shifted over as reinforcements. Commanding this group was none other than Prince Abbas, who pointed towards Dimitri and gave some inaudible order. Abbas's presence was likely not a coincidence. Dimitri theorized that the eldest prince knew Khalid was among the cavalry charge and desired to personally finish off his despised brother.

Abbas may have wanted a swing at Khalid, but he was still afraid of Dimitri. A large portion of Abbas's subordinates charged forward in unison while he waited to see the result.

Abbas's plan was effective. No strength or speed of one man could stop them all, and many of the enemies tried to circle around Dimitri altogether. He lunged to reach some of them, but this left him vulnerable. A lance scraped the side of his stomach, and a sword swing to his chest nearly knocked the breath out of him. His mail kept him alive, but he couldn't reasonably expect it to last through much more.

The assailants' advance forced Khalid's squadron to continue backing up towards the bluffs above the Sous. As Khalid was still unable to stand on his own, two of their men dragged him backwards by the arms as needed. Some of their comrades farther away were pressed to the very edge of the cliff. A soldier had Farjad pinned down with his head and shoulders dangling over the face until Khalid freed him of this enemy with a well-placed shot from Failnaught. Farjad desperately rolled the body over the side.

Dimitri stood at the front, but he could hear crust beginning to break loose and tumble into the river below as his companions neared the edge. He was running out of options until someone came up alongside him.

"Dimitri… can you carry me to the other side?" Marianne asked as she pointed towards the enclosing circle.

Dimitri thought Marianne was speaking figuratively until he realized just how serious her expression was.

"I can try rushing through, but… it's dangerous, and I don't know what you hope to gain."

"There's a plan. It's the only idea Claude had. We've already explained it to the others."

"… Very well."

Thankfully, the enemy was just as surprised when Dimitri suddenly picked up the woman next to him and charged forward. As they barreled through the line, few thought to strike them or even come within range of his lance. They instead saw an opportunity for a clean view of Khalid.

Ghalib's soldiers gleefully lunged towards the injured prince. They were confused when all of Khalid's companions ducked to the ground, but they did not comprehend the motive before being struck by a jet of piercing blue wind that emanated from Marianne's hands. The momentum from the vicious gust carried most of the enemy combatants right over the precipice into the Sous. Those who avoided the fall were killed all the same in the ensuing counterattack.

There were more soldiers to be dealt with, but the loss of this vanguard devastated the morale of Abbas's surviving command. Abbas himself was now within reach. He motioned several more to advance.

Dimitri knew the face of a particular opponent- it was Parveen, one of Abbas's retainers. They were not friends in the least, but he had worked alongside her for months. Parveen's expression was etched with fear and regret as she neared.

Still, there was no room for hesitation on the battlefield. He parried Parveen's swing and mercilessly drove Areadbhar through her stomach.

More soldiers charged as Khalid's group closed in. Abbas's other retainers, Janan and Parviz, moved to join them, but Abbas held them back. He began to shuffle away slowly, nearly tripping over a bump as he drew a sword to defend himself if necessary.

Just then, a loud horn sounded from deep behind Elam's lines. Dimitri had heard it sound several other times during the battle, but rather than a quick blast, this note seemed to be held until its player ran out of breath.

For some reason, the clash of blades quieted as the soldiers from both sides ceased their attacks. Dimitri glanced around confused for several seconds until he realized that everyone was turning to watch something behind Ghalib's army.

After another moment, a long blast of the horn was returned from the top of the hill. At its sound, the soldiers around Dimitri began to back away from each other and lower their weapons. While most of them grimly walked back towards the center of their ranks, a few actually engaged in conversation with the people they were trying to kill just seconds earlier.

"Is it… over?" Dimitri muttered in confusion.

"Yes," Khalid answered as he approached, now able to at least hobble about on his own. "Both sides have indicated that they are willing to suspend hostilities for now."

It felt wrong for the battle to end just as soon as they seemed to be having some success, but there was obviously much more to consider than their limited perspective. Dimitri accepted the outcome with a silent grimace.

Abbas, who had narrowly escaped an early demise, was now within talking range. He told Khalid, "Uncle neglected to mention it, but I would happily duel you, too. It's the natural ending to all of this."

Khalid shook his head. "I didn't kill Shahid, and I don't want to kill you, either. As difficult as this may be for you to believe, I don't share your fascination with fratricide. Nothing I can say will sway you, but I would ask you this, Abbas- remember who you're following and who you've sided against. There's a lot more at stake here than your feelings for me."

Abbas snorted and sheathed his sword. "Farewell, brother," he grumbled before turning away.

Most of their troops began their withdraw, but Dimitri noticed where Farjad sat on the grass alone. He approached his friend and offered assistance.

"Farjad… give me your hand."

"Don't touch me!" Farjad shouted hoarsely as he slapped the outstretched hand away and scrambled a few paces back. He then relaxed some and allowed Dimitri to see his watering eyes. "How did this happen? This isn't what I signed up for. Khabash… what were you thinking?"

Dimitri put his arms around Farjad and pulled him onto his feet. After a gentle nudge on the back, Farjad finally put in some effort of his own by walking towards Marianne. She had returned to Dorte's side, seemingly using what little strength she had left to heal him. The horse had collapsed at some point in the action after his armor was riddled with arrows. Thankfully, the extra protection had prevented the projectiles from penetrating too deep. Dorte would have been put down without an experienced healer, but fortune was on his side. Dimitri had a strong suspicion that Marianne would not complain about the armor again.

After Khalid joined them, Marianne asked, "I still don't understand. Who won?"

Khalid sighed. "Technically, it's an operational draw. Our advance stalled, but they didn't have the strength to mount one of their own… hence why they agreed to stop the fighting." He then dislodged a chunk of grass as he dug his sword into the ground. "From a strategic standpoint, though, this is a disaster for us. We've depleted our army, while Ghalib's will grow once the Meteorans are organized."

"What happens now?" Marianne then inquired.

"We help take care of the deceased and recuperate. After that… I honestly don't know. Especially once most the blame is thrown on my shoulders."

Dimitri walked to Khalid's side, yanked his sword out of the dirt, and handed it back to him.

"We go home," Dimitri told the prince. "And we save the thinking for later."

Khalid nodded in resignation. Once Dorte was back on his feet, Khalid's group followed the rest of the survivors, who were trudging back to their army's headquarters at a sluggish pace. Many of them were bodily injured, and those who weren't still suffered from physical and mental exhaustion.

They received no respite upon their return. There was whispering as they approached, and many glared at Khalid angrily. Just as Khalid expected, he was already singled out as the person responsible for their failure.

One commander marched in their direction and began, "What the he-."

Thankfully, Queen Tiana quickly intercepted him. She kept the man at arm's length from Khalid. "Hold your peace! As your queen, I will have none of this! We can debate the course of battle later, but for now, I want everyone focusing on seeing to the dead and wounded."

The man grimaced and stepped away. "… Yes, Your Majesty." Though he said nothing more, it was obvious that this man was contemptuous of the queen's order, seeing it as a mother pathetically covering for her son's failures.

When they were free from any hostile ears, Tiana told them, "I didn't realize how dire things were for you until a wyvern rider was sent back to report your situation. We had a bit of a predicament to take care of here ourselves."

Dimitri surveyed the headquarters, which was still a mess from the unexpected attack. Ariella was gathering scattered maps and writing utensils, while Soraya nursed a cut to her forehead.

Khalid commented, "No kidding. How in the world did that ambush get back here? I thought we scouted the area ahead of time."

"We did, but the scouts were primarily looking for larger numbers. It would have been difficult to pick out just the few if they were well hidden. I don't know exactly where they came from, but it was behind us. They must have been within either visual or hearing range of Ghalib's army, waiting for the signal."

"Was anyone killed?" Marianne asked.

"No one on our side, thankfully. Several of our signalers were wounded, and Soraya got cut up some when stuff got flung around. We took care of the assailants, but the ambush achieved its goal. It would seem Ghalib didn't have a plan of his own. His only move was to disrupt our communication as soon as we made our gamble, and our alliance was such a mess that it worked." Tiana rubbed her forehead. "Look at me go, talking about the battle and breaking my own advice. Listen… there are others I still need to talk to. You should go find your friends, but I'm glad all of you are alright."

When Tiana left, Ariella raced over to them. She hugged Marianne and then provided a short blessing over the men in her native dialect. She was unable to say more before someone else joined them.

"Oh, thank goodness. It looked terrible down there," Satiah exhaled with relief upon seeing them. As she counted the faces, though, she realized that someone was missing. "Where's my brother?"

Dimitri, Marianne, and Farjad all faced Khalid. It was his responsibility to break the news.

"… Khabash was struck down by archers while trying to defend me," Khalid retold. "I… he fought bravely, Satiah. Just as he always said he would."

The young woman did not seem to process what she was being told. "You mean… he's still back there?"

"Satiah… he's gone. I'm so sorr-."

With abrupt understanding, Khabash's sister removed her helmet, cast it to the ground, and strode away. After placing a shaking hand over her mouth for several seconds, she began walking towards the site of the cavalry charge. Satiah presumably wanted to find her brother's body, but it would be a difficult task alone.

"I'll help her. I know where's he's at," Farjad mumbled as he followed after her. Dimitri wished he could say something to help, but Satiah clearly was not in any condition to listen.

Khalid and his retainers walked through the throngs of survivors. Many of them were being treated by battlefield surgeons. There were a handful of other magic healers the army had rounded up in the previous weeks over the complaints of some of the Votaries within their ranks, but these healers were neophytes when compared against Marianne's skills.

"Is there anything you can do to help?" Ariella asked Marianne.

The healer looked down and held her hands together. "I'm sorry, but I just don't have enough stamina left."

Ariella shook her head hastily. "That's alright; it's not your fault." She frowned almost guiltily. "You shouldn't have to bear that responsibility alone."

The doctors were not on the level of a healer like Marianne, but they at least seemed to have more refined procedures than their counterparts in Faerghus. There, Dimitri had seen injuries cauterized by hot irons or boiling oil if a magic healer was unavailable. The Almyran surgeons were less eager to burn or amputate, and some even used a kind of thread to close wounds.

Despite the heavy casualties, most of the people Dimitri knew were still alive. Demetrius, Senusret, Anthony, and Nousha were all safe. They also crossed paths with Prince James and two of his retainers. They would later learn that his third, Issachar, was among the dead. As usual, though, the poor and the weak were the first to be crushed by the consequences of war.

When they reached the end of the troop, Khalid faced his retainers and requested, "I want the three of you to promise me something here today."

"That we will live through this?" Ariella guessed.

Khalid shook his head. "Even more than that. I want your promise that all of this… everything that you see here… that it will mean something. Do you understand?"

Dimitri, Ariella, and Marianne all agreed to the solemn promise. Marianne then cleared her throat.

"Claude… if you don't mind, I would like to say a prayer. A prayer for the dead… and the living."

Khalid smiled feebly. "I think that's a great idea."

The four would soon help collect the fallen warriors; first, though, they knelt down together in unison. Dimitri lost track of the words as Marianne prayed, but he was awed by the melody of her voice. For as long as Marianne spoke, her entreaties broke through the anguished cries of the army to reach the heavens.