Part 3: Peccatum Mortale (Mortal Sin), Chapter 2.


Dorothea walked slowly behind the mercenary, careful to watch her step along the crowded path, but even so, she was unable to avoid stumbling, and several times, the mercenary's outstretched hand was the only thing that saved her from taking a hard and embarrassing fall.

"What happened?" Dorothea whispered as they stopped by the side of the road, standing to the side as a heavy cart laden with groaning men rolled by, down the steep mountain path, barely controlled by the team of armoured guards on each side of the cart.

"Injuries," Gerald replied, his voice dry as the dusty road beneath them. "Probably the survivors they dug out from the stampede."

"Stampede?" Dorothea swallowed hard as she turned back to try to catch a glimpse of the cart, but Gerald merely placed an arm between her and the disappearing cart rolling down the mountain.

"The retreat from Garreg Mach was chaotic to say the least," Gerald explained as they continued to walk. "And, for the sake of your health, I would ask that you avoid breathing through your nose moving forward. The results will be… unpleasant."

"I've stood on a battlefield before," Dorothea reminded the mercenary, her heart sinking with every word he spoke.

"Not like this," Gerald shook his head as his eyes met her own, his lips curled in disgust. "Very well then, as you wish, but I have given warning as needed."

Dorothea took another step before the smell hit her like an open slap to the face. It was like rotten meat, drawn from the worst battlefields of the war, mixed with the coppery taste of fresh blood and a crushing feeling of hopelessness and terror, one that her stomach was unprepared for, and she only remained standing as Gerald kept a strong, steady arm around her shoulders.

"I," Dorothea managed to hiccup, the stench like an unyielding assault that blinded her and forced bile through her throat, and Dorothea tore herself from the mercenary's steady grip just in time for the awful taste of her own vomit to hit her taste buds and out of her lips, sparing them both the indignity of washing the contents of her stomach from their clothes.

"I warned you," Gerald's voice came from above, and Dorothea blinked tears from her eyes as a scented handkerchief was placed over her nose and mouth, giving her a scent of distant meadows and flowers rather than dust and death. "Can you walk, Lady Dorothea?"

"I-" Dorothea spluttered, each painful word forcing her to endure the sour taste on her tongue. "I can. How much further?"

"Not far now," Gerald said. "Maybe another hundred paces. The Emperor is currently holding court with what little remains of her guard after the… retreat. The situation is… dire."

Dorothea took a deep breath through the handkerchief, then she tried to climb up, but a poor step along the difficult path caused her to stumble, and it was only the support of Gerald's lightning-quick hand that caught her before she took another painful fall.

"Hold onto your handkerchief," Gerald said as Dorothea stabilized again, though this time she could feel her face flame with equal parts humiliation and shame. "I will carry you."

Dorothea wanted to protest, but she was weak, tired and thirsty, and her mind could only take so much horror, so she nodded her consent and closed her eyes.

The mercenary was gentle, with one strong, slender arm wrapped around her waist and another around her thighs securing her in place. It was merciful even, because it spared Dorothea from having to witness the sight of horror that must have been the source of the stench.

But from the safety of Gerald's back, Dorothea gasped as she saw hundreds of small figures along the lower cliffs of the Oghma Mountains, some moving, others deathly still, a scene that made her feel small and powerless as she was carried into the relative shade of a small trade tent off to the side of the road.

It was only when Dorothea was let down did she notice Edelgard watching her, her usually fair face almost the colour of chalk.

"Edie," Dorothea said with a slight curtsey. "I came as soon as I could."

Edelgard nodded slowly, her eyes drawn to a series of chess pieces that littered the only free table in the tent, her lips pursed as she toyed with the black Queen.

"Will there be others joining us?" Gerald asked.

Edelgard let out a slow breath, then she shook her head, tears leaking from her eyes.

"Edie?" Dorothea whispered, suddenly afraid. "Edie, please. Tell me what's wrong?"

"I've taken the liberty of offering my advice to your… our Emperor." Gerald said, his voice low and grim. "But she has taken my suggestions poorly."

"Your suggestions," Edelgard hissed the last word through gritted teeth. "You suggested to me that the only way forward was to slaughter a dear friend of mine as if she was a mindless beast to be put down."

"Is that not the same beast that has caused countless thousands of deaths before your very eyes?" Gerald shot back, his arms crossed. "If that very beast is not slain quickly, will hundreds more not waste away from famine and disease?"

"I know that!" Edelgard roared, throwing one of the chess pieces directly at the mercenary, who took the blow with nothing more than a raised eyebrow. "But I must be sure there isn't some other way forward."

"What-" Dorothea started, a moment before reality struck her. "You're going to kill Lysithea?"

Edelgard looked up at Gerald in response, but then she turned back to Dorothea, but she said nothing, though the broken, tearful look in her eyes told Dorothea all she needed to know.

"You-" Dorothea spluttered, at a loss for words until she turned to the mercenary. "Lysithea is a friend… we can't let her…"

"It is very tragic," Gerald admitted quietly, shaking his head. "But the tragedy will worsen the longer Garreg Mach is not in Imperial hands."

"I-" Dorothea didn't understand. "Explain."

"Perhaps it will be better for you to ask yourselves the questions that need answering." Gerald replied, sweeping an arm out of the tent in the direction of the countless crowds of the lost. "Tell me, how would you heal the wounds of the thousands of injured below?"

Dorothea swallowed as she tried to come up with an answer.

"Could you do it with magic?" Gerald asked. "You have maybe a handful of healers, maybe a dozen. All who will need rest once their magic is drained. How long will the wounds of those suffering below fester in the heat?"

Still, Dorothea had no answer, and when she looked over to Edelgard, she could see her long time friend had no answer either.

"And what of food and water?" Gerald continued, his voice cold. "You have little in the way of livestock, unless you intend to have your citizens eat their horses, and the stores of wheat and rice are still within Garreg Mach itself, which we do not have the resources to take, and we certainly do not have the facilities to cook."

"Enough," Edelgard barked. "You have said your piece."

"And what of your citizens on the Tailtean Plains?" Gerald asked. "Their supply lines are cut off now, are they not? How would you feed them without control over Garreg Mach?"

"Enough!" Edelgard shouted. "Wait outside for your orders. Dorothea, stay."

Dorothea watched the mercenary give a slight nod, then step out, his presence still visible some paces away, but far enough that Dorothea felt some level of privacy alone with Edelgard.

"He's almost like Hubert," Edelgard said softly, sounding like she was on the verge of tears. "But-"

"Hubert would never say such a thing," Dorothea whispered.

"No," Edelgard slumped to her knees, her face buried in her arms as choking sobs escaped past her lips.

Dorothea fell to her knees next to Edelgard, and she took her friend's head into her chest, rubbing Edelgard's back gently.

"She's so young," Edelgard managed between sobs, her body wracked by the tears. "She has her whole life in front of her and yet… I have to give the order to kill her."

Dorothea closed her eyes. "Are there any ways to cure her?"

Edelgard's voice died, her shaking body unable to pronounce the syllable, but Dorothea could still read her lips. No. The answer was no.

"Is there anything I can do?" The question was a desperate grab at a fleeting sliver of hope, long buried under the grinding reality of death. "Anything?"

"Miss Dorothea?" Gerald's voice came from the entrance of the small tent. "We are just waiting on you."

"One minute." Dorothea snapped, feeling equal parts angry and violated. Gerald might have been an Opera troupe guard, but his presence was certainly unwelcome, especially with Edelgard on her knees.

"We have only so much time before night falls," Gerald snapped back. "Torches will draw too much unwanted attention to us, and to wait until daybreak would see hundreds die of thirst and hunger."

"This guy is right," a new voice cut in, one Dorothea was not expecting to hear.

Dorothea looked up and blinked at the dirty, ragged form of Hilda, leaning on a long, iron axe and looking grim.

"Hilda?" Dorothea's voice came out like a gasp. "What- what are you doing here?"

"We have only so few men able to walk," Gerald explained, his dark, piercing eyes pitiless. "And those who can risk their lives to hunt the wild beasts in the lower valleys of the Oghma Mountains."

Gerald paused for a moment, his eyes travelling across the scope of the tent. "Miss Goneril has volunteered to break out and contact whatever reinforcements may be to the south, as have I."

Suddenly, Dorothea understood. "You want the Professor to kill Lysithea?"

"Lysithea…" Hilda had paused at the name, her face wracked with anguish. "She… she wouldn't have wanted to live as she is."

"Dorothea," Edelgard's voice still was ringed by emotion, though a sense of steel had returned. "Byleth and Hubert will recognize and trust the two of you to do the right thing. That is why we need at least one of you to break through."

Dorothea swallowed. "You want me to come with you."

"Yes," Gerald nodded. "Our odds are increased if you are with us. If we were to… run into trouble, then it would increase our odds of success to split up."

Dorothea nodded at that as she looked back over to Edelgard, feeling a wave of discomfort rise within her. "Where will we be going?"

"The Officer's Academy would be a good place to raise a banner," Gerald said, gesturing for Dorothea to follow him outside. "A banner there would be seen for miles around, not to mention the castle will provide both defensive fortifications and is the only place we could possibly find medical supplies."

Dorothea nodded at that as the three of them rounded a corner, and her stomach almost gave out on her again at the scene of carnage.

"Are we- are we supposed to go through that?" Hilda's voice sounded weak and shaky, and Dorothea looked over to see that Hilda's face had turned pale, and her hands were shaking.

"We will go through the rooftops," Gerald replied. "It will provide us with a better chance to avoid detection, but if it is required, we must head down to street level."

Hilda took a long, gagging breath as she turned away from the road and the source of the horror, her body shaking and shivering as she fell to her knees, her axe clattering to the ground next to her.

Dorothea closed her eyes and grabbed at Hilda's hair, just before Hilda wretched and spilled the last meal she had onto the side of the road.

Dorothea looked away from Hilda as she heard her former classmate emptied her stomach, but the only solace came when Hilda stopped her retching and tapped at Dorothea's wrist, signalling that she was finally ready to stand again.

Dorothea still helped her rise back to her feet, and she even picked up Hilda's discarded axe, though she trembled and dropped the weapon twice before she was able to hand it back to a pale Hilda standing next to her.

"If you're prepared to move out," Gerald cut in, his voice firm but polite, standing a respectful distance away from Dorothea and Hilda. "We will proceed, and I hope to reach the Officer's Academy before the sun sets."

Dorothea glanced back over to Hilda, and she was rewarded with a shaky nod as Hilda gathered her wits once more.

"Let's go then," Dorothea said as she began to follow Hilda into the city of the dead.


AN: Part 3-2 is complete. Next part: Back to Byleth and co.