The Force's Shepherds
Chapter 29
Behind Enemy Lines
All around Marth, was sand. Coarse, dusty sand that felt like small rocks beneath her boots. It was a familiar sight. One that had become normal for her. Ever since she had first taken on her mission to defeat Grima, her world had been nothing but sand. Dead landscapes. Deserts, void of any life. And barely any water. When her eyes first settled on this landscape, she felt a deep sense of desperation.
Had she failed in her mission? Was she dead? The memories of the duel on top of the Palace Walls in Plegia's capitol rushed to her mind. She gulped. Had Kage actually killed her?
She heard a noise in the distance. A loud, roaring blast that made her hair stand on end. It sounded like the roar of a dragon. And if it was, then there was only one beast that could make such a noise. Marth spun on her heel and reached for Falchion. But the divine sword was not at her hip.
In the end, she did not need it. What she saw was almost beyond her comprehension. High in the blue sky above her, suspended in the air like a jagged shard of metal, was a massive… what she could only describe as a strange triangular ship. The shadow of which blotted out an enormous expanse of landscape around her.
A second massive ship thundered into existence. Then a third. Finally, to both her horror and shock, a fourth ship boomed out of thin air.
And it made the other three look minuscule. This massive triangular ship was black in color. Easily three or four times larger than it three grey companions. While the first three ships caused her some alarm. Mostly due to their unknown nature. This ship made her hair stand on end.
She could feel something on board the big one. Something cold, menacing, hateful. Filled with controlled malice that cut through the air around her like a frozen knife. The hot air of the desert cooled significantly as the presence on board that one ship blanketed the land around her.
Her legs buckled. Marth collapsed to her knees. Her hands held her body up in the earth as she fought for breath. The presence, the only comparable ones were Maul and Grima himself. And while not as overpowering as Grima's, it certainly dwarfed Maul's. Not only that, it felt so much more focused than Maul's evil signature. Far more powerful. She could feel her hands trembling in the sand as her mind was bombarded by the dark side of the force. She bowed her head and shook. Whatever fell evil had arrived on her world, it was one that would doom them all.
"Lucina."
Her eyes widened. She raised her gaze. Her heart jumped to her throat.
Standing in the sand in front of her wearing flowing dress of white was a Manakete. She had locks of hair so bright that it nearly blinded her. Power radiated from the women. Blinding power. But warm. It drove the cold back. And through the light, Marth could see a gentle smile on the women's face as she looked at her.
Immediately, Marth felt like she knew who this women was.
"Naga…" She breathed.
The women's smile saddened a little bit, "A shell of her."
Marth's mouth felt dry as she stared in awe. Meanwhile, the shadows deepened from the massive ships lumbering high above her.
"Lucina," The woman Marth swore was Naga continued, "There are now other things to fear beyond my Brother."
In the distance, Marth could hear the dull roar of dragon. It sounded quiet, subdued. As if the creature was imprisoned.
"He is not awakened in this time… yet. But there are those whose goal is to bring about his resurrection." Naga continued.
Marth gulped, "I-I know. That is why I performed the ritual in order to go back and stop it."
"The Grimleal are no longer the only ones." A second voice said.
Shimmering beside Naga, radiating a dull blue color, was a man. He wore simple, cream colored robes. There was a gentle calm to his features. A sense of peace and knowledge that made Marth feel much more at ease with the situation around her. His face was older. She could make out small streaks of grey hair patched into the dark brown color that dominated his long locks and neatly trimmed beard.
"The Sith will soon become aware of this world." The man warned, "As a consequence, they will become aware of Grima."
"That must not be allowed to happen." Naga warned, "Qui Gon is right. The Sith, and their power, are growing. The Light must rise to meet it."
Marth's eyes widened, "H-how? Are-are you saying that I have to-" She shook her head, "I can't. I'm… I can't even defeat Kage. How can I possibly stop Grima and Maul and-and whoever is on that ship!?"
"You will not be alone. The Force has given you friends to assist you. And one to guide you when the Sith do come." Qui Gon continued.
Marth trembled as she knelt in the sand. It was one thing to try and prevent a terrible future. But to apparently be chosen by the Force to stop a parasitic evil that seeked to help the Fell Dragon. No, she was not strong enough.
Naga's soft hand gently caressed her cheek, "Do not despair, Lucina."
Another roar. Lucina looked up to see hundreds of smaller, stranger ships launching from the large triangles in the sky.
"You are far stronger than even you know."
….
Marth gasped as she jolted upright. Sweat coated her entire body. The sheets on the bed she was lying in clung to her wet skin. Despite that, she felt cold. She shivered and rubbed at her arms. And that was when she realized that her normal attire was gone. In its place was a very loose fitting robe with no sleeves.
Panic rushed through her. Where was she? Where was Naga and whoever that Qui Gon guy was? Her head swiveled as she looked around the room she was in.
It was a dark room. A few small candles burned in the shadows around her. There was a small fireplace with no fire in it. A couple of wicker chairs. A sand stone table and desk sat to her right. To her left was a small window with thick, heavy, purple curtains blocking out the sun.
She moved to get out of the small bed she was in. Pain rushed through her entire body. A hot, burning sensation that forced her to spasm right back into the mattress. Marth sucked in huge gulps of air as she tried to keep herself from screaming.
"Your tolerance for pain is impressive." A woman said before uttering a dark snicker, "If anyone else had been subjected to the torturous spell you were hit with, they would have welcomed death with open arms."
Marth strained her eyes into the dark. Then she saw her. A dark haired Grimleal mage sitting at the desk. Barely visible in the dim candlelight. Marth's face paled. It was the same Grimleal mage from the inn.
"The fact that you are even capable of movement at all is even more impressive."
Marth tensed up. Who was this women? How did she end up in her room?
"Before you ask," The Grimleal continued, "My name is Tharja. You are lying in my bed, in my room. I reside in the Temple of Grima. Yes, I rescued you. No, not because I am a nice person." Tharja got up from her seat and moved closer to Marth, "But because my own curiosity got the better of me."
Marth stared at Tharja wide eyed. Before she could speak, Tharja held up a pale hand.
"Be careful with what you say." She warned, "For one, we are in the Temple of Grima. My colleagues will not appreciate a child of Naga sleeping among them. Two, you are currently under a truth hex. So whatever you say to me, will be the truth."
Tharja moved back to her desk and began to run her finger along the spine of several books she had sitting on it.
"I won't force you to say anything." Tharja continued, "I already tried to comb through your mind using a scrying hex. But… needless to say, you've got a sharp mind. Doing that actually hurt a little bit. Obi Wan Kenobi would be proud of you."
Marth shot up in the bed, ignoring the burning pain in her body.
"How do you know that name?" Marth asked.
Tharja smiled darkly, "He told me." She saw the shocked look on Marth's face and chuckled, "Not exactly willingly."
Marth grit her teeth, "What have you done to my master?"
Tharja snickered, "Master? So he isn't just a magician, is he? He is your teacher." Tharja plucked a book from her shelf and began to flip through its pages. She then grabbed a small piece of charcoal, "I have not harmed him in any way. In fact, he is still inside of the King's Palace. As far as I am aware, he is at least alive. I learned his name when him and I had a little… chat back at the inn."
Marth did not know whether to breathe easier or to be much more alert. Either way, she was worried. Her master was still in the Plegian palace. Which meant he had been captured. And the only person capable of capturing him was Maul. She swallowed hard and felt a pit form in her stomach.
"You have been asleep for almost a day." Tharja informed her.
"That is a day too long." Marth replied before trying to move again.
But once again, Tharja raised her hand to stop her.
"You're not leaving here." Tharja said, a hint of warning in her voice, "Not until I get what I want."
Marth's eyes narrowed at Tharja.
"Truth hex." Tharja smirked, "I have some questions for you." The mage moved across the room to the end of Marth's bed, "I want you to tell me about yours and Obi Wan's powers."
Marth clenched her jaw.
"Don't try to keep yourself from saying anything." Tharja warned, "Truth hexes are mild compared to what I have been trained to do. I could easily torture the information out of you. But that is rather… messy. And I'd prefer to keep my room free of human blood." The mage flicked the book she was holding open, "So… what exactly is your magic?"
Marth felt it. The pressure against her mind. A worm that was trying to burrow into her thoughts. Coax her into speaking everything that was in her mind pertaining to the Force. She struggled against it for a moment. Then the pressure built up. It felt like her brain was being squeezed tighter and tighter. Like she was a boa's prey. Trapped in a predator's deadly embrace.
Her mental walls crumbled. Marth gasped and quickly placed them back. But not before she spoke to Tharja.
"The Force." She gasped, sweat beginning to form on her brow, "It's called the Force."
Tharja quirked an eyebrow, "The Force, hm?" She scribbled notes down in her book. A book that Marth realized was an empty tome, "And what are you capable of when using this Force?"
Marth squeezed her eyes shut. She was fighting with everything she had. But she felt so weak. Her fight with Kage had sapped so much of her energy. And Tharja was not a novice dark mage. Marth did not doubt her power or skill.
But if she broke under the pressure of the Truth Hex, then for a short period of time, her mind would belong to Tharja. Her thoughts would be like the pages of a book. Open for the dark mage to peruse at any time. There was too much at stake for that to happen. To many lives hung in the balance. Too many futures were in jeopardy. All because Tharja wanted to know about a mysterious magic.
She did not have the strength of her master. And it quickly became apparent to Marth that Ben had been able to fend of Tharja's mental assault. If he hadn't, then Tharja would already know the answers to these questions. Even then, it would have been just barely. She was able to pry his true name from his mind. That alone was evidence that, while Ben may have been able withstand Tharja's interrogations, he had not been able to block her out entirely.
So what hope did she have of mounting a powerful defense?
The answer was none. So continuing to fight was not an option. She could give in. Let Tharja see everything and pray that the dark mage would not turn on her in an instant. As of now, Marth was only alive because of the dark mage's curiosity.
Or…
"How about a bargain?" Marth gasped as she fought to keep her mental defenses up.
Tharja snickered, "And why would I do that? I have you at my mercy. As I said before, a truth hex is tame compared to what I am capable of. Would you like to test me?"
"I could scream." Marth replied.
The smirk on Tharja's face ran away.
Marth nodded. She almost bit her tongue as she continued to fight, "I could scream. Then the entire temple knows I'm here. And I'm sure your superiors would want to know why you have a Ylissean insurgent locked up in your room." Marth let out a weary laugh, "Try explaining that away. If they had their way, I would have already been killed or tortured, no?"
Tharja narrowed her eyes dangerously.
"So," Marth continued, "You are technically betraying your own Order." She uttered a dry laugh, "All because you want knowledge. Well, I'm more-" She grit her teeth and shook her head, "More than willing to give it to you. As long as we are able to make a deal."
Tharja frowned, "Are you trying to negotiate with me?"
Marth gave her a weak smile, "Maybe?"
Tharja tapped the piece of charcoal against a page in her book. She pursed her lips.
"In exchange for your knowledge?" She asked.
Marth sucked in a sharp breath. Her mental defenses were almost gone. She was running out of time.
"You help me rescue my Master and friends."
Tharja uttered a small laugh, "So either way, I end up a traitor. That does not sound like a bargain to me."
"Correction," Marth continued, "You end up a traitor to the Grimleal, and a friend to Ylisse." Marth's breathing was starting to become labored. The pain in her mind was intense now. In mere moments, she'd be forced to give in. Her mind and body were too weak for this kind of fight, "So instead of both sides wanting to kill you. Only one will want to. Your odds of survival just jumped fifty percent."
Tharja's eyes widened for the briefest of moments. Long enough for Marth to notice. But still, the mage kept a good poker face.
"Because I can guarantee you this," Marth gasped, "If you kill me. Or harm me. It won't just be Ylisse coming for you. The one I was fighting, Maul's apprentice, he won't take too kindly to that. And I'm sure Maul won't either. After all, they did not kill me outright. So they obviously have designs for me."
A bold faced lie, but a bluff Marth needed to play. She needed to make Tharja feel trapped in a corner with no other options but her deal.
Tharja hummed to herself. Her silence was painful. Marth forced her mind to ignore the pressure. What she wanted to do was utter a silent prayer to Naga for strength. But if she did that, she'd give away just how close she was to breaking. And the deal would be lost.
Tharja's slammed the book in her hands closed. The pressure in Marth's mind faded away. Marth let out a loud gasp before she slumped back in the bed.
"Deal." Tharja said.
She moved beside Marth. She placed a pale hand on her wrist. Black markings appeared on Marth's hand. Then they faded as well. The truth hex evaporated completely. Tharja then closed her eyes and muttered something under her breath.
Strength surged through Marth. Her injuries felt less serious. She felt lighter, more energetic. The burning sensation that had been crawling over her skin the entire conversation had faded. Tharja let her hand fall from Marth's wrist.
"That hex will last for a few days." Tharja breathed. A little drained from the spell, "But once it wears off, you will be in utter agony. But that hex will give you the strength to help in our rescue."
Tharja swept back across the room over to a wardrobe in the corner. She reached into the wardrobe and withdrew robes that would normally be on a Grimleal initiate. She tossed the robes across the room.
"Put these on." Tharja instructed.
Marth gaped at her for a moment. Her bluff actually worked? She felt a twinge of pride hit her. If only her Master could have seen that little negotiation.
She rose from the bed and peeled off the loose robes she had been wearing. Her breath got caught in her throat.
Scars ran over her skin like red spiderwebs. Fresh and throbbing. Shaped like small bolts of lightning that arced over a stormy sky. Her face paled.
"Like I said," Tharja commented, "Your tolerance to pain is impressive. Now hurry up. We need to get moving."
Marth nodded and threw the robes on. She winced a little at the sight of Grima's seal over her breast, but it was a small sacrifice to make. The mission was not over. Not while she still drew breath.
Once the robes were on her body, Tharja withdrew a familiar weapon from her wardrobe.
Marth uttered a loud gasp before she grabbed Falchion from Tharja. She stared at Tharja for a moment. But before she could say thank you, Tharja cut her off.
"Hide it in your robes. We don't want you to be recognized."
Without another word, Tharja moved to her door. She pushed her door open and Marth followed her out of her room.
The hall outside was dimly lit by flickering red torches. Shadows clung to the walls and floor. Dark and deep. The entire place seemed to be void of any light whatsoever. Marth swallowed hard then turned to follow Tharja as the mage strode down the hall.
They passed several other rooms. Marth could hear voices coming from the other side of some of the doors. Most of them were hushed. Some were mad. Others loud and brash. Each tinged with a dark malice. A cold evil that Marth noticed was strangely absent from Tharja's presence.
The dark mage in front of her pushed another door open. Bright light hit Marth's eyes as they entered a large, rocky courtyard. Arcing over the courtyard, like giant beams of bone, were the ribs of the Fell Dragon. Marth's breath hitched at the sight.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Tharja said, "To think such a being existed on our physical plane at one point in time."
"A monster you mean." Marth said.
"Watch what you say." Tharja warned, "There are ears everywhere here. And to us, Grima is not a monster. Naga is."
Marth's eyes widened as they crossed the courtyard. They passed several small groups of mages that huddled together like school children on a playground. Marth noticed out of the corner of her eye one mage that sat alone from the others. And unlike all of the others, he had a bright smile on his youthful face. A Grimleal mage that seemed to enjoy the daylight and the warmth of the sun. And just like Tharja, his presence did not feel evil.
"Eyes to yourself." Tharja hissed, "Look at someone the wrong way and they will take it as a challenge."
"Where are we going exactly?" Marth asked.
"The markets." Tharja replied as they moved towards the Temple exit.
They two passed through the Temple gates. Tharja gave the gaurds that stood vigil a stern glare that told them to mind their own business. Then they both moved into the city streets. As they walked, people would quickly step out of their way. Careful not to offend the mage and her friend in any way.
"They fear us." Marth noticed.
"And rightfully so." Tharja replied, "The power we wield is otherworldly to the common folk. The Grimleal are the voice of Grima. We speak his divine words to the masses. And they listen."
"Grima is not divine." Marth growled under her breath.
"To us, Naga is not divine." Tharja replied, "There are two sides to every coin, Marth. Grima and Naga are part of the same coin. The side you look at the most is the one you will always favor. The one you will know the most about. To look beyond one side of the coin is to gain knowledge not just of one perspective in life, but to see the entire scope of life and death. Change and stability. Chaos and Order. Then when you see both sides, you can see the center. And realize just how much of existence is not black and white."
"I think Grima and Naga are pretty easy to distinguish." Marth replied as they entered the city markets.
All around Marth was a large, open space in the city. But there were few stalls. The Plegian Capitol did not receive as much trade as any Ylissean or Feroxi city for that matter. The nation's reputation for harboring bandits kept most merchants from risking the journey to this dusty corner of the world.
"In some ways." Tharja replied, "I'll admit, I do not know much about Naga. The study of her is rather… restricted. But I know much about Grima."
"Then how can you think that Grima is not a monster?" Marth asked.
Tharja folded her arms, "To you, Grima is death. No?"
Marth nodded.
"To us, Grima is change."
Marth gave Tharja a puzzled expression.
"What is death but the greatest of changes?" Tharja asked.
Marth opened her mouth, but could not think of a response. The blue haired girl frowned and shook her head. No, she would allow herself to think Grima could somehow be good. The Fell Dragon was evil incarnate. She knew that to be true. The monster was responsible for the apocalyptic future she knew. How could that not be evil?
"Why are we in the markets?" Marth asked, tired of the previous conversation.
"Changing the subject, are we?" Tharja snickered, "Very well. We are in the markets to gather information. While not bustling, there are still plenty of people here. And people like to talk. And rumors love it when people talk. If we are to find your friends we must hear the rumors."
"Wouldn't they all be in the palace dungeons?" Marth asked.
"Kenobi is." Tharja replied, "But your red haired friend, she is missing. I watched her fall off of the palace walls when I grabbed you. Then there is the Taguel and the Thief. They slipped away from the guards. Only Grima knows where they are hiding."
Marth felt a small rush of relief. Panne and Gaius were alive and they had managed to escape. Cordelia was missing, which worried Marth. But there was a chance she was still alive and on the run as well.
Tharja frowned then cocked her head a little bit.
"Do you hear something?" Marth asked.
She hoped the dark mage could hear something through the masses of people. While not as massive as Ylisstol's markets, the Plegian markets still had a lot of people milling about. There was so much noise that it made it difficult for Marth to even hear Tharja at times.
"A slight enhancement hex." Tharja explained, "And yes, I heard something." She turned to Marth, "I know where to find your Thief and Taguel friends."
….
Gaius sighed before taking a long swig from the little bottle in his right hand. He took in a sharp breath as the alcohol hit his tongue. It burned hard and sharp as it ran down his parched throat and into his empty stomach. Once it hit his stomach he unwrapped his last chocolate bar and devoured the sweet treat.
"I don't think alcohol and candy are appropriate right now, man-spawn." Panne scolded as she sat on a small, stone chair.
Gaius shook his head, "It's perfectly appropriate for right now." He raised the bottle in his hand, "For mourning," He then raised the candy wrapper, "For thinking."
"You require candy to think?"
"I require sugar to think." Gaius corrected, "And this just so happens to be the only sugar I have on me."
Panne snorted. But she could not be too annoyed with the thief that sat on the chair across from her. Without his knowledge and guidance, she would have been captured by the Plegians. And once that happened, the Mad King could have ordered her execution. Then the Taguel would truly be extinct.
Gaius had been able to keep his wits about him as they ran from the Plegian city guard. He guided her down dark, twisting alleys as they tried to lose the enemy that dogged at their heels. It reminded Panne far too much of running from human hunters back when her warren was still alive. She still shivered at that feeling. To feel like prey was not in the Taguel's nature. But humans had managed to make each and every one of her kind feel that fear. It was unnatural and terrifying.
Eventually, they managed to lose the guards. Once that happened, Gaius hopped off of her back and followed hidden symbols carved into some of the stone buildings around the city. At the end of those symbols, was a hidden doorway cut into the rocky face of a cliff. Inside of the cliff was a den for thieves. A little tavern and inn that catered to the criminal underbelly of Plegia's capitol.
It was very cramped. Carved into a natural cave in the cliff side then hidden by stone. Only thieves could find the entrance. And only thieves knew about this place. A place of refuge after a long day's work. Gaius had used this place as a safe house many times when he was just a petty thief on the Plegian streets. The tavern wenches were familiar with him. The owner tolerated him. This place was a safe as safe could get for a fugitive. The dark shadows on the inside of the tavern allowed Gaius to feel like he was coming home.
Once inside, Gaius visibly relaxed. He and Panne took the table furthest away from anyone else. Promptly ordered the hardest liquor the tavern had. Then the man-spawn proceeded to silently stew before finally uncorking the bottle.
Gaius took another sip from the bottle.
"Damn it all." He muttered before setting the bottle down, "You want some, Whiskers?"
"No."
Gaius snorted, "Figures." He plucked the bottle again, "More for me."
Panne rolled her eyes. Using her fast reflexes, she snatched the bottle from Gaius's hands just as he brought it to his lips a third time.
"Hey!"
"No more until we have a plan." Panne scolded.
Gaius slumped in his seat. He motioned at the bottle, "The plan, Whiskers, is to get drunk enough so that I forget about this whole day."
"That is not a plan. That is wallowing."
"Well it works for me!" Gaius snapped.
Panne narrowed her eyes at the thief. Gaius groaned and hung his head.
"Please let me get drunk."
"You don't think our friends are alive, do you?" Panne asked.
"How can they be?" Gaius asked, "You were there too. Cordelia was fighting off the entire army on her own. King Gangrel laid a trap for us. Ben was caught by Maul and probably killed. And Marth got her teeth kicked in by-" Gaius took a sharp breath, "If I ever see that blond haired son of bitch again I'll gut him. I swear it."
Panne inclined her head, "So there is some fight still in you."
"Enough for vengeance." Gaius snarled, "I. Don't. Fail. Jobs." He leaned back in his seat, "And that bastard Kage…" He snorted indignantly, "I can't believe it. That kid played me like a fiddle."
"He fooled all of us, Gaius." Panne pointed out.
"That's comforting." Gaius sassed, "You truly are excellent at consoling people, aren't you?"
Panne frowned, "Our friends are not dead. I refuse to believe that."
"Whiskers…"
"Until I see their bodies with my own eyes they are not dead." Panne leaned forward in her seat, "Right now, the Shepherds are the closest thing to a warren I have. And the one who allowed that to come about was Ben. Him, Chrom, and Robin allowed me to join the Shepherds. Without them, I would be all alone again. Do you know what that is like?"
"It's a hell of a lot more peaceful." Gaius muttered.
"It is terrifying." Panne continued, "Having no one to call friend. No one to call upon when you need help. No one to just… talk to." Panne gulped, "It is a feeling worse than sorrow."
Gaius closed his eyes. Of course Panne would feel that way. She had already lost one family. And just as she was starting to build another one, they were being ripped away again.
I'm going to need more booze.
"We must rescue them." Panne said, her voice firm and resolute.
"How?" Gaius asked, "What are we going to do? Knock on the front door? Ask nicely?" Gaius shook his head, "Whiskers, I hate to say this, but… it's over. They beat us. Exalt Emmeryn is going to die tomorrow. And if our friends aren't dead yet, then they will be executed with her. And there is not a damn thing we can do about it."
"We can still fight." Panne suggested, "As long as we are alive they stand a chance." Panne leaned forward in her seat, "After all, the greatest thief in the world is still free. Ready to spring them all loose."
Gaius's eyes darted back to meet Panne's dark brown ovals. She was not joking with him. There was no mockery in her voice. She genuinely believed he was the greatest thief in the world. And she believed in him. Believed he would be able to help her save the members of her new warren.
MORE BOOZE!
Gaius groaned, "Flattery… my one weakness."
Panne gave him a confused expression, "I thought sugar-"
"Was my biggest vice. Not weakness."
Panne quirked an eyebrow, "Aren't those two the same-"
"Well," Gaius clapped his hands together, "Screw it. If we leave this tavern, we're dead anyways. Might as well go out in a blaze of glory. Congratulations Whiskers, you managed to guilt me into doing something incredibly stupid."
"I wasn't trying to guilt you into any-"
"So here's the start of the plan," Gaius leaned over the table, "We need to wait until the moment of the executions. Then…" He started to snap his fingers as he tried to organize his thoughts, "Booze me, Whiskers."
"I already told you-"
Gaius grabbed the bottle and tore it from the Taguel's grasp. He uncorked it with his teeth and took several large gulps from it. He let out a loud gasp before sucking in a deep breath and uttering a loud hoot.
"Damn good stuff!" He hollered, "So, we wait until the execution. As they are about to be executed we sneak past the Plegian officials and take Gangrel hostage. While you hold the King hostage, I'm going to take care of the executioner. I'll cut Benny, the Exalt, Blue, and Red's binds. Then we will use our hostage to ensure our escape." He chugged the last drops of alcohol, "Brilliantly stupid! Exactly what they would not see coming!"
Panne started incredulously at Gaius.
"I'm not letting you drink anymore after today."
Gaius kicked his feet up on the table and gave her a smug grin.
"Admit it."
"Admit what?"
"The booze worked."
Panne pinched the bridge of her nose. She shook her head. How in the name of Naga did she wind up friends with this man-spawn? He had a way of both amusing her and making her feel like throwing her head into a brick wall. No other human had managed to make her feel both happy and annoyed like that before. It was an odd mixture.
Unfortunately, she was feeling more annoyed than happy at the moment.
"Good plan yeah?" Gaius asked as his cheeks began to turn pink from the alcohol.
Panne sighed, "It is the only one we have." She rose from the table, "We must hope it works."
"Where are you going?" Gaius asked her as she moved away from the table.
Panne sighed, "To find out when our friends are supposed to die."
Gaius recoiled as Panne stormed away from him towards the tavern's exit. Gaius let out a long breath. After a few moments, he signaled a tavern wench.
"Another bottle please." He said, "Oh… and the sweetest sweet you have."
"We have dried melon." The tavern wench replied.
Gaius scowled, "On second thought, make it two bottles along with those." Gaius sighed as she walked away, "After all this is done, if we aren't all dead, I'm raiding the Ylisstol pantry."
….
Cordelia pressed her back into a small shack in the slums of Plegia's Capitol. She blinked exhaustion from her eyes and let out a long, groan.
Naga, she was tired. Every single muscle in her body was stiff and in pain. Then there was the scrapes and bruises. The ankle injury that she was certain was at least a sprain. At the worst, a fracture. She could feel a couple of ribs creaking in her chest with every breath.
That fall from the walls really did a number on her. But she could not stop running now. The city guard were combing the city for her. She had taken down too many of them for them to just let her slip quietly into the crowds of people. It was no longer a matter of capture the Ylissean for King Gangrel. Now it was a matter of vengeance and pride for the Plegian military.
Cordelia gasped for breath and winced as pain lanced through her sides.
Yup… broken ribs. She thought as her grip on her bloodied sword tightened.
The temptation to just fall to the ground and go to sleep was tremendous. She had been running for a whole day. Ducking and dodging into back alleys and dark corners. Fighting off groups of guards as they cornered her in a dead end or cut her off from a path of escape. But the will to fight did not leave her. She had to fight on. Not just because she wanted to live.
She had to fight in order to make sure the others could escape.
Cordelia did not know the fate of her companions. She did not know what happened to Ben, Gaius, or Panne. But she prayed to Naga that they made it out of the palace alive. Hopefully with the Exalt as well.
She did know the fate of Marth though. And it was a grim one. The last she saw of Marth, the girl was dying as Kage blasted her with bolts of lightning. A spell so intense in its power that it would have made any Ylissean mage quiver in terror. It terrified Cordelia when she saw it. Marth was one of the strongest warriors she had ever seen. To see her on the ground, screaming and spasming as Kage tortured her to death-
Cordelia heard the gauntlet on her hand creaking as her fingers curled into a tight fist. Kage, he was the traitor. He was the one who alerted the Plegians to their plan. He was the one who told the Plegians about Exalt Emmeryn's escape to the Eastern Palace.
It was his fault she was wounded in Plegia's capitol. His fault her friends were in danger. His fault that the Exalt was captured.
She grit her teeth and felt rage build up in her.
It was his fault that Commander Phila and all of her sisters in the Pegasus Knights were now dead.
Her hands were shaking with fury. If she saw the little bastard again, she would kill him. Not just for herself. But for Commander Phila, and every single Pegasus Knight he helped murder.
But first she had to survive. And those odds were grim at best. Nonexistent at worst. She was running out of places to hide. She would not be able to run forever. And there was no one she could turn to for help. Eventually, unless a miracle occurred, she would succumb either to exhaustion or to an enemy's blade. Then it would end. And she would not be at peace.
Cordelia sucked in a large breath. She winced when her ribs shifted again. Then she limped along the wall. Her sword dragged in the dust near her feet as her arm rested limply at her side. Her other hand guided her along the wall. Her vision was starting to grow spotty. She needed rest. Gods she needed rest.
A voice whispered to her. Cordelia was instantly alert. Her arms snapped up and raised her sword to eye level. She pivoted, ignoring every ache and pain, and leveled the deadly blade in the direction of the voice.
Standing in the doorway of a small hut was an elderly woman. Her back was hunched. Her once black hair had turned white long ago. Deep wrinkles ran over her face like long trenches in the earth. And her eyes were cloudy like milk.
"You sound injured, child." The old crone croaked as she hobbled towards Cordelia with the help of a gnarled cane.
Cordelia swallowed hard but kept her blade trained at the old woman. She was Plegian. And the Plegians wanted to defeat all Ylisseans. And they certainly wanted to kill all of the Pegasus Knights. Considering the fact that she was the last one, all it would take was a dagger in the back for that goal to come to fruition.
The old woman stopped just short of the blade's tip. She gave Cordelia a gentle smile.
"I'm not going to hurt you, little one." She said as her clouded eyes stared up at Cordelia.
Cordelia was about to reply when she heard harsh voices in the alleyway nearby. The clink clank of armor caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end.
The old woman turned away.
"Come quickly." She said, "Before you are found."
Cordelia's gaze turned to the end of the alley. She could take her chances with the guards once again. Pray that their numbers did not overwhelm her. Or she could take her chances with an old, blind woman.
The choice became obvious when she thought about it that way.
Cordelia pushed away form the wall and staggered after the old woman. She collapsed into the woman's house just as she shut the door behind both of them.
The floor was dusty. The wooden planks that had once provided a solid foundation had long ago rotted away. Splinters raked through Cordelia's palms as she tried to push herself up.
Knobbly hands grabbed Cordelia beneath her arms. The old woman looked frail, but she was surprisingly strong. She hauled Cordelia to her feet and helped her over to an ancient wicker sofa.
Even though the sofa was gnarled and knotted, it was the most comfortable seat in the world for the exhausted Pegasus Knight. She let her head fall back against the rough, reedy back. She could feel her eyes beginning to finally close.
"Rest now." The old crone said, her voice grainy yet sweet, "I will make you a remedy."
I wish I could. Cordelia thought as she fought off sleep once again.
She needed to be alert. At any moment, she could run into an enemy in this city and be killed. She needed to keep at the ready. She needed-
"Rest." The old woman said sternly this time.
Cordelia felt a cold, damp cloth press against her forehead. Then she felt the woman's knobbly fingers work on the buckles of her armor. The heavy steel fell away. Cordelia did not move to protest. She felt a wooden bowl press against her cracked lips. Warm water hit her parched mouth then rushed down her dry throat. She greedily drank as much as she could.
The red head gasped for breath when the bowl left her lips.
With just a few kind gestures, she already felt a million times better. But a question kept bouncing through her mind.
The Plegians hated the Ylisseans. So why would this old woman help her?
"Wh-" Cordelia tried to speak. But her throat was so dry. All that came out was a hoarse whisper. The old woman waved her hand. Silencing the red head.
"Because it is the right thing to do." The old woman answered, "Not all Plegians wish doom upon Ylisse."
Cordelia gave the woman a puzzled look.
The old crone, despite being blind, seemed to be able to notice Cordelia's confusion.
"I lost my husband during the last war. He died during one of the first battles."
She shuffled over to a small, rickety cabinet. Inside were jars of dried spices and herbs. Her hands ran along the labels until she arrived at a pair near the end of the row. She plucked them out of the cabinet and shuffled back towards a small stove. She placed the herbs into a copper pot and began to stir it in now boiling water.
"When he died," She continued, "I was alone. I had to raise my son all alone. He was… ten when my husband died." A sad smile fell on her face, "He was such a good boy. And when he joined the Plegian military, I was so proud of him. Even prouder still, when he was chosen to march with the King Gangrel's honor guard during the final battle of the war." She continued to stir the boiling water, "He came home, and the King named him to be one of his Kingsguard due to his valor in battle. My son came home a hero. And I was forever thankful to Grima for allowing that to happen."
She stopped stirring. Her trembling hand lifted the wooden spoon to her mouth and she sipped on the concoction she was working on. The old woman bobbed her head, satisfied. She grabbed a wooden ladle and scooped a spoonful. She brought the liquid over to Cordelia.
"Drink up. This will help numb the pain."
Cordelia hesitated. But then relented. She gratefully drank the bitter concoction.
A wave of warmth rushed over her body. She could feel some aches and pains fade as she sat still on the sofa.
"What-" Cordelia cleared her throat, "What happened to him?"
"Hm?"
"To your son?"
The old woman smiled sweetly, "Well, he served good King Gangrel nobly. You must understand, at first King Gangrel was a great king. Ambitious and prideful, sure. But also understanding, generous, and patriotic. He wanted nothing more than to see Plegia thrive in the wake of the war. He wanted to rebuild the kingdom and make it into the envy of every other nation in the world. There were grand plans in order. Cities were to built along the western coast for trade. Roads constructed through the desert. Aquifers built and wells dug. Farms planted where they could be planted. The boy king was destined to be the greatest ruler in our country's history."
The old women let out a sad sigh.
"Then, my colleagues in the Grimleal sank their claws into him."
Cordelia felt her muscles tense up. No wonder the concoction the old woman made her was so effective. She had likely been practicing how to make it for decades! As a Grimleal mage, she must have knowledge on so many different spells and potions. But that also made her extremely dangerous.
"More specifically," The woman continued, "A young mage named Validar took hold of him. Him and his little apprentice, Aversa." The woman snorted, "Snotty little brat. Anyways, they got into the King's good graces. Eventually he elevated them to the level of political adviser. A way to appease the radical factions within the Grimleal." She let out along sigh, "And that was when everything began to fall apart."
"The Grimleal took control of the education plans the King had laid in place. Instead of learning to build, the Grimleal taught children to destroy. Then they took hold of the King's city building plans. Claimed they were a waste of resources and gold. Then they took hold of the flow of information. No one could speak out against them for fear of being imprisoned, killed, or worse. Around that same time, the good King began to change. His countenance began to grow sickly. His eyes no longer bright, but manic and fearful. Validar and Aversa had succeeded in poisoning his mind. Turning the brilliant ruler into a madman."
Cordelia listened in utter silence as the woman took another breath. She held another ladle of medicine to Cordelia's lips. The pegasus knight silent sipped it.
"My son saw the changes. The King trusted him. Or so he thought. He confronted Gangrel. Warned him of the poison in Validar and Aversa's words." A small tear ran down the old woman's cheek, "I watched as Validar had him burned alive. Powerless to stop him. And the King laughed the entire time as his loyal soldier screamed." She bowed her head, swallowed, and shook her head.
"I'm… I'm sorry." Cordelia said.
"It is not your fault, little one." The old woman said, "I told you all of this, because I could feel the anger and hatred in you. It is what drew me to you in the alley. That hatred is what drove Validar's actions. It is what drove King Gangrel mad. And I don't want to see a beautiful flower such as you wither away like that."
Cordelia's mouth hung open.
"But… but why help me?" Cordelia asked, "Your reason can't just be because you like me."
The woman gave her a gentle smile, "No. It is because I still have hope. The King is long gone now. There is no saving him. But perhaps, when he is gone, and the Grimleal are defeated, a new king will come. And he will lead my people to prosperity. My son dreamed of that day. I hope it comes true, for his sake."
The woman took the rag from Cordelia's head, dabbed it in more precious water, before dabbing it against her boiling forehead.
"Now rest, little one. I will wake you if any trouble comes."
Cordelia swallowed then nodded. Her heavy eyelids slowly fell. Sleep embraced her. And she welcomed it.
And chapter! A little filler before we get to the showdown chapters! Marth is with Tharja. That was a little twist on canon I enjoyed doing. While I do enjoy Tharja's almost nihilistic approach to turning on Plegia in the original game, I do feel it is kind of out of nowhere and very uncharacteristic of a Grimleal mage. They are pretty much indoctrinated into a cult. So I decided to put a bit of a spin on it in order to make her turn make more sense in a way. I hope I accomplished that.
Meanwhile, Gaius and Panne are about to try another crazy rescue. And Cordelia is injured and in the care of an ex-Grimleal mage in the slums of the Capitol. And just a day or two away are our favorite Prince and Tactician. The battle is almost here! I'm excited to write it! I've got it all planned out. And yeah… it's gonna be one hell of an event.
Anyways, let me know what you all think. As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!