The Force's Shepherds
Chapter 121
Fall of the Tyrant
Pain lanced through Tharja's head as her eyes slowly fluttered open. The pain reverberated from her forehead, down her neck, into her chest and back. She shifted where she lay, feeling small grains of rubble and stone slip off of her as she moved. A groan slipped from her lips. A hard cough followed as dust got caught in her throat.
"Noire." She gasped, voice hoarse.
A sticky sensation ran down the right side of her face, rendering her right eye shut. She quickly reached up and wiped at her eye, swiping blood away and allowing her eye to open. As her vision cleared, she saw that the entire tower was in shambles. One whole wall, facing out to the Valmese army, had been blown to pieces. Dark magic and purple smoke lingered in the air like a vile haze.
Her body trembled as she struggled to get onto her hands and knees. Splinters dug into the palms of her hands from the chipped, broken up wooden stairs beneath her. She coughed again, wincing at how hoarse and sharp it felt against her throat.
"Noire!" She croaked.
Her daughter from the future had yet to reply to her, which worried the dark mage. She did not know Noire very well. They had rarely spoken to each other since she revealed her parentage; mostly due to Tharja's own apprehension about the entire situation, and despite Ben's best efforts to get her comfortable around Noire. One would think that little interaction would mean Tharja would care less if she was harmed or not. But there was a strange worry that stirred inside of Tharja when she failed to see her daughter in the rubble with her.
She shakily rose to her feet and stumbled down the broken steps, nearly falling over several times as her head swam and her legs wobbled. When she reached the bottom of the steps, her vision cleared up and she was able to properly see the devastation around her.
Bodies lay in the rubble she stepped through. Chon'sin archers that had shared the tower roof with her lay crushed beneath large stones, or blown to pieces by powerful magic. She swallowed hard as she stepped over a body. Outside of the ruined tower, she could hear the sounds of heavy fighting. Steel hammered against steel. Magical explosions shook the remaining intact walls around her. The screams of dying men and women reverberated through the air like a sickening choir. It gave her flashbacks of Port Ferox and Charlet. Of how desperate those battles were. Somehow, this one was even worse.
"Noire!" She called once more as she shuffled to the tower door, which had been ripped off of its hinges by the explosion that took the wall.
How did that explosion happen again? She couldn't recall. Her head hurt whenever she… wait… there was a Risen. A Deadlord, if she recalled correctly. And he-
"Oh no." She willed her body to hurry through the door, then froze once she got out onto the walls.
A Chon'sin soldier fell to his knees in front of her, blood spurting from a wound in his chest. A Valmese soldier drove a lance into the dying man's back, finishing him off. Before Tharja could even blink, the enemy soldier spotted her and charged, lanced leveled at her belly. Tharja reacted quickly, opening her spellbook and casting a quick Flux into him. The man screamed as he was blasted off of the walls, falling to his death below.
Pure chaos surrounded her. Chon'sin and Ylissean soldiers fought desperately to hold off wave after wave of Valmese that ascended ladders along the walls. Slowly, the men in red armor began to outnumber the Archaneans and their allies. Even though the Valmese were mainly conscripts, they fought well, using their superior numbers to overwhelm the enemy. One on one, a Chon'sin, Ylissean, or Feroxi soldier could easily win. Even if it was two against one, the safe bet was with the Archaneans. Things changed when it became ten to one, or worse, twenty to one. No warrior could best those odds.
Tharja's eyes roved the chaos, desperately searching for Noire. Had the explosion caught her and buried her back in the tower? Did it knock her out of the tower and into the Valmese ranks? Tharja's heart jumped to her throat at the thought of Noire down below, dead, her body being trampled by thousands of soldiers as they moved in to defeat their enemy. No one deserved such a fate, certainly not her child.
"Noire!" She shouted over the din of battle, praying that by some miracle, she heard her.
Dark magic flared to life in the air, making her freeze in place. Her eyes quickly scanned where the sudden influx came from, roving over soldiers as they fought around her. Her search quickly ended when she spotted the Deadlord down the wall… with her daughter in his grip, an ignited lightsaber in his hand.
Tharja did not think. She did not speak, did not scream, or cry out. She simply reacted. The pages in her spellbook flew in front of her eyes until they landed on a spell she had been working on for weeks. Unholy amounts of power welled up inside of her as her fury and fear spiked. She grit her teeth, condensing the dark magic into a powerful ball in her free hand.
"Waste." She breathed.
The ball of dark magic flared, then it burst into a river of purple, shadowy fire. It screeched across the walls with an unholy howl, scorching anyone that dared get in it's path, friend or foe. The spell's scream grabbed the Deadlord's attention, but too late. It slammed into him, forcing the stooped creature to drop both Noire and the lightsaber to the ground as it drilled into an impenetrable wall of magic surrounding him.
The lightsaber hissed back into its hilt when it hit the ground. The creature slowly turned to face Tharja, a sneer on his lips as he regarded her with an annoyed expression.
"Do you mind?" He growled as Tharja stepped closer, her focus entirely on the Deadlord and not on the soldiers fighting to the death around her, "I'm conducting an experiment."
"The only one allowed to conduct experiments on her is me, fiend!" Tharja snarled.
One flux shot out of her palm. Then two, then three. All three slammed into the enemy at once, erupting in a shower of dark magic and smoke. She then gathered a Nosferatu into her hand, charging it for several seconds before allowing the powerful spell to rocket into the plume of smoke surrounding her opponent. An enormous blast erupted on impact, shaking the ground around her and knocking some stones loose from the walls.
Tharja inhaled deep, letting her body briefly recover from the sudden exertion.
Take that.
Low chuckling caused her eyes to widen. The smoke began to clear, and the wretch still stood, completely unharmed. Tharja's hands lowered to her sides as she stared in stunned shock at the enemy in front of her. She could see a dark shield of some sort flickering around him as the aftershocks of her spells ended. When they did, his lips parted into a yellow toothed grin.
"Powerful indeed." He said, taking a step towards her. He briefly glanced back at the still down Noire, "Both of you are. The apple apparently does not fall far from the tree. And you are a mage after my own heart as well. Dark Magic is clearly in your blood."
"It may be in my blood, but I certainly don't take after you, monster." Tharja snarled as she let an arc-thunder spell crackle in her hand.
The Deadlord chuckled, "Yes, I can sense it. You have tremendous talent. A shame you will have to die here. I would have loved to learn how you acquired such skills."
He snapped his hand out, sending a fireball careening at Tharja. Tharja gasped and ducked low, feeling the flames singe the top of her head as the attack narrowly missed her and consumed a Valmese soldier just reaching the top of the wall instead.
She lashed back with her arcthunder, letting the thunderbolt zap across the space between her and her enemy with an enormous crack. The spell slammed into that dark shield surrounding her opponent once again, causing Tharja to growl in frustration.
What is he doing? She thought, eyeing her opponent as he flashed her an arrogant smirk.
Her eyes ran up and down her opponent as she tried to figure out what was generating the near constant shield around him. Was he wearing a charm of some sort? Was there a hex he cast on himself? She certainly never heard of any enchantment or hex that could make someone invulnerable, at least not for this long. Her eyes lingered for a moment on the strange tome in his grip. One unlike any she had ever seen before.
That has to be it. She scowled.
The Deadlord laughed and cast another spell. This one made Tharja's eyes widen. She dove out of the way as he executed a flawless Waste, engulfing the area over her head in bright, purple flames that consumed a group of ten soldiers behind her. Their screams echoed around her as the flames turned them from soldiers into ash. Just as Tharja was about to counter, the Deadlord's assault continued. He launched a fireball, then a thunder, then an arc-wind that cut across the stones with a razor sharp edge. Tharja pressed her body to the ground and winced as the arc-wind buzzed over her head.
"You're an elusive one." The Deadlord grumbled.
Tharja grit her teeth. She could not land an attack on him, and he was making sure she did not have any time to counter. All she could do was dodge. Not a lot of good that would do her. Eventually, one of his spells was bound to connect. Given the power he was tossing around, if even one of his spells landed, she would be done for. Her body already felt weak from the explosions in the tower, as well as launching spell after spell into the never ending mass of charging Valmese. There was no way she could keep this up.
Her eyes landed on Noire. Her daughter lay completely still behind the Deadlord. Tharja's eyes widened as she noticed her eyes. She could not tell if they were open or closed, there was so much blood smeared over them. Her hair was plastered to her forehead by it. She lay there, so still and pale. The sight cause fury to erupt inside of Tharja.
"DIE!" Tharja roared, her pages stopping on a spell labeled 'Goetia.'
Purple and black lighting crackled from the pages to her free hand. She could feel her reserves sapped immediately from the sheer power coursing through her body. The dark lightning shot towards her enemy, making him stop in his tracks as it slammed into his shield. Tharja's grit her teeth as she watched the lightning explode against her enemy, knocking him back several steps, but leaving no trace of any harm on his body.
"Oh ho ho!" The Deadlord chuckled, "Very good. That one I actually felt a little bit. But you will not be able to defeat the mighty Gharnef so easily." He eyed her, "I'm curious, you've displayed a vast wealth of knowledge to me." Tharja narrowed her eyes as frost kissed the tips of Gharnef's fingers, "But are you familiar with this?"
Ice and snow erupted from the ground around Gharnef, appearing out of thin air. The temperature plummeted in the area as ice crystals gathered in his hand. With a cry, he launched the spell at Tharja, creating a wall of sharp ice shards in front of her. With nowhere to dodge or take cover, Tharja did the only thing she could. She grabbed the closest Valmese soldier, incapcitated him with a sharp punch to his nose, then jumped behind his dazed body. Letting the shards tear him to shreds instead of her. She winced when she heard a sharp exhale as his life ended. When Tharja was certain the spell had passed, she let his body fall to the ground, riddled with ice shards.
Gharnef chuckled evilly again, "Clever girl. Ruthless even. Are you sure you and I aren't cut from the same cloth?"
Tharja hissed. This clown was getting on her nerves, but there was no way to silence him. Goetia was the most powerful spell she knew. And it severely weakened her after using it. There was no way she could cast another without risking her own life.
Her eyes landed on Noire again. Her heart thumped in her chest when she saw her daughter stir a little bit, moving her hand and pointing her palm at Gharnef. As if she was trying to fight him still.
He threatened my daughter. Tharja thought, renewing her resolve If I have to give my life to save hers… then so be it.
She prepared to charge another Goetia when a blur of blue light rushed at Gharnef. Ben surged over the wall, landing what should have been an impossible jump. He slashed at the Deadlord, knocking Gharnef back as his lightsaber hissed against the shadowy shield.
"Tharja!" Ben called, "Are you-" His words died when he noticed Noire lying on the ground.
Tharja could see how every muscle in Ben tensed up. This was something she had not seen from her love. When Ricken died, she caught a brief glimpse of the fury he could unleash when pushed. When her life was in danger, she witnessed the raw power he could wield when backed into a corner. But she had yet to see how Ben fought when he was truly enraged. When all thoughts of restraint were discarded in favor of an all out assault.
But that was against his nature. That was not Ben Kenobi, and she knew it. If he attacked Gharnef, throwing everything he had against him, he would lose. The invincible shield Gharnef possessed, from what she observed, would not allow any harm to come to him.
So long as he is able to hold it. She eyed the tome with the skull engraved in its cover, resting in Gharnef's left hand.
She strode up to Ben's side and took his free hand in her own, drawing him out of his stupefied daze and causing him to glance at her.
"Together." She said, eyes narrowed at Gharnef.
Ben took a deep breath and nodded.
"Get that tome away from him. We can win that way." She advised.
"Are you certain?" Ben asked, voice shaking as he tried his best to not look at Noire and focus his attention on the Deadlord.
"No, but I don't have a better plan."
Ben exhaled, "Alright. I'll take him up close, you take him from afar."
"I might accidentally hit you."
Ben focused his sights on Gharnef, "You won't. I'll sense it coming."
Without another word, he dashed at Gharnef, lightsaber humming in his grip. Gharnef lips parted into an evil grin as he waited for the Jedi Master to reach him. Ben reared back and slashed hard at Gharnef's right flank. His blade sparked against the barrier around Gharnef before being pushed back by the dark magic enveloping the Deadlord.
Ben snarled, twirled his blade, then struck again. Just as his blade glanced off of the shield, he sensed a spell screeching up from behind him. He stepped to the side, watching as a thunder spell cracked in front of his eyes and hammered against Gharenf. Ben followed it up with a force push, forcing the Deadlord to backpedal.
It didn't harm him. Ben realized, But it still pushed him. He grit his teeth and deactivated his lightsaber causing Gharnef to laugh at him.
"Giving up so soon?"
"Funny," Gharnef's eyes widened as he felt something grip his entire body. Ben smirked at him, "I was about to ask you the same thing."
With a harsh cry, Ben shoved Gharnef with all the force he could muster into the next tower. The Deadlord crashed against the stones, making the entire structure shake from the impact. Before he could recover, a fireball shot at him, slamming against his barrier and blinding him with light. Gharnef hissed, squeezing his eyes shut just long enough for Ben to get in close again.
A fist smacked against Gharnef's jaw, spinning him around and causing him to fall flat on his back.
"You know, I don't understand what good an impenetrable magic shield is if I can beat it with just a punch." Ben stated, reigniting his lightsaber and standing over Gharnef.
The Deadlord stared up at him in shock, "How did-" He snapped his gaze to his hands, where Imhullu no longer lay. It rested by his side, just out of reach. The pages were open, and some were missing. The pages were torn out, but by who?
An enraged expression flashed over the Deadlord's face.
"Angry?" Ben asked, "Too bad. You have no idea what it really is." He raised his blade, "This is for my daughter!"
Gharnef roared, unleashing a massive thunder spell on pure instinct. Ben soared through the air, slamming up against the tower and sliding down it. Dazed by the spell, he struggled to recover as static arced over his body.
"Ben!" Tharja cried.
Gharnef whirled around to face Tharja as she charged Goetia once more. A spell he knew he could not handle without Imhullu's protection. The little mage was proving to be a greater nuisance than he anticipated. But more importantly, someone defiled his Imhullu, and he had a very good idea who did.
He dove for his spellbook, grabbing it and avoiding a wayward arrow from hitting him. Just as Tharja finished charging her spell, Gharnef spoke a quick incantation. Golden light erupted beneath him and enveloped his form. In a split second, he vanished in a flash of bright light.
As soon as the Deadlord disappeared, Tharja sprinted to Ben's side, dodging several sword swipes along the way. She skidded to a stop next to him as he carefully stood back up, using the tower wall as support.
"That hurt." He winced, "He's gone?"
Tharja nodded, "Let's get Noire out of here."
They moved towards Noire. As they walked, Ben suddenly froze. Tharja furrowed her brow in confusion.
"Ben? We need to hurry?"
The air around them dropped in temperature. The already dark storm clouds over their heads turned black. Thunder rumbled in the sky as rain poured down in great sheets. A massive branch of lighting arced through the sky, revealing two points of golden light appearing at the center of the Valmese mass pushing against Koto's walls.
The lights faded. Another bright flash of lightning. Another peal of thunder. Then a woman's mournful wail pierced the sky.
Lucina stared down her opponent, blue eyes narrowed as she waited for Jango Fett to make the first move. She already successfully disarmed him of those strange weapons he preferred to use. The ones that shot fire. But she also knew this Deadlord was exceptionally crafty. She fought him once before, in Port Ferox. He managed to escape that time thanks to that strange pack on his back. One that allowed him to fly with the assistance of some strange technology or magic that she did not understand.
It doesn't matter if I don't understand it. A bead of sweat dripped down the side of her head as she held her breath, waiting for Fett to strike, I will defeat him.
Her patience won out. Fett uttered an irritated growl before charging right at Lucina. Lucina quickly slashed down with her sword. Jango lowered his head, letting the blade glance off of his rounded helm as he crashed into Lucina, slamming into her with a bone jarring tackle. Lucina uttered a cry as her sword slipped from her grasp due to the impact.
Her head snapped back when she hit the ground, causing stars flash in her eyes. As she lay, dazed beneath Fett, she felt an armored fist slammed into her side. Lucina bit back a howl as she quickly refocused herself, bringing her knee right up into Fett's groin. The Deadlord growled in pain as Lucina quickly turned the tables, cracking Fett's already broken visor with her cybernetic arm before grabbed him by the head and slamming him forward against the ground.
As he reeled, Lucina kicked him off of her, allowing her to scramble to her feet and gain some separation. Fett was not much taller than her, but he was still heavier, and more muscular. If this became a ground fight, she knew she would lose. She needed to keep this fight upright, focus on speed and agility. The Force gave her the advantage there, even if the Deadlord had Grima's power coursing through his undead viens.
Fett recovered quickly. He rushed at her again, aiming to take her to the ground once more. Lucina quickly sidestepped, using her new arm to bury a powerful strike into his armored abdomen. Iron crunched against his silvery armor as the blow reverberated through her cybernetic and into her shoulder. She hissed as she felt some pain from the blow, yanking her hand back to see the knuckles on the cybernetic dented from the strike.
What is his armor made of!?
She did not have time to figure it out. This fight needed to end. She could not afford to get caught in a long, drawn out affair with an enemy who did not seem to tire. As Fett doubled over from her first strike, she brought her knee up to his visor, cracking it against the glass and sending small shards into his face.
The Deadlord howled as he stumbled backwards. Lucina pressed the advantage, gathering the force in her palm and shoving him against the stone wall. The stone cracked behind the Deadlord as he slammed into the wall.
Now, she charged at him. Ready to rain blows down on the enemy until he was forced to run. Before she could reach him again, Fett raised his wrist. A stream of fire shot out from his gauntlet, catching Lucina by surprise. She uttered a cry and sank below the fire, narrowly avoiding it. The heat washed over her face as she stayed low and snapped her leg out, catching Fett by his ankles.
The Deadlord snarled as his legs were swept out from under him. As soon as he crashed to the ground, Lucina pounced again. She gathered the force around her once more and used it to shove Fett through the floor down to the basement of the tower. The rest of the floor crumbled beneath her feet as well, catching her off guard. Using the force to slow her fall, she managed to land on her feet across from a dazed Jango Fett.
"Not…" Jango hissed, yanking his cracked helmet off and spitting blood from his mouth, "Not bad, kid."
Lucina balled her fists, readying for the next round as Jango got to his feet. She was surprised by just how human he looked. It shouldn't have surprised her, but to see a grizzled, middle aged face behind the helmet took her off guard. He did not seem any different from a normal man. His tan face was clean shaven, a few faint scars rested on his jaw. Wrinkles lined the edges of his eyes. Short black hair crowned his head. The only thing marking him as non-human were the red eyes, mirroring the same color as the eyes of his Fell Master.
"Surprised?" He asked, "You thought I was a monster under that helmet?"
"You are one." Lucina snarled, "Just because you have human skin does not change what you are. You're a deadlord, You helped kill so many people I knew and cared for in the future. That will not change."
Fett snorted, "Surprisingly strong feelings for a Jedi." He raised his hands, ready to continue their brawl.
"I'm far from a typical Jedi."
Lucina swept forward, aiming a hook at Jango's head. Jango quickly raised an arm, blocked it, then hammered his free hand against Lucina's ribs. She winced as his armored hand cracked against her body, making her feel like the thin, leather plates she wore within her outfit were useless. She could already feel a welt forming on her side from the sheer force Fett punched her with. She may have dazed the Deadlord, but he was far from done.
He quickly followed it up with a sharp jab to her chin. Lucina bobbed to the side and kicked her right leg out, planting her foot flush beneath Fett's armpit. The Deadlord snarled as he staggered sideways. Lucina quickly sidestepped with him, delivering a jab to his head before throwing an uppercut.
He caught the uppercut and twisted her arm, trying to draw her in so he could take her to the ground again. Lucina followed the momentum, flipping up in the air and twirling with the twist. Letting the force run through her freely, she propelled herself fast over his head, yanking his arm backwards and pinning it behind him. She kicked out the back of his knee next, dropping the deadlord to his knees before her. Once he was down, she wrapped her hand around his chin, making him freeze.
She yanked hard on his chin, feeling the bones in his neck snap with a harsh twist. His body slumped forward, lifeless.
Once Lucina was certain he was no longer a threat, she relaxed, suddenly feeling the exhaustion in her body. Her bones ached, and she was certain Fett might've cracked a rib or two. She slumped back against a fallen slab of stone from the ceiling, letting out a long exhale.
"Two to one now." She breathed, recalling that when she first encountered Fett, she killed him with Falchion's shard in Ylisstol. She nodded to herself at that memory, "I think I might be getting good at this."
She took a deep breath and looked up at the broken ceiling above her. With the help of the force, she jumped back up the main level in order to rejoin the battle. She quickly located her fallen sword and plucked it up off of the ground before marching to the tower door.
Just as she reached for the doorknob a warning ripped through the force. Lucina winced and reached up, brushing her left hand against her head. A shuddering gasp left her lips as the dark side of the force howled in her ears. That howl turned into a roar as two dark prescenses made themselves known in the force. Their signatures eerily similar to the other deadlords on the battlefield, but somehow stronger.
There are more? She thought as panic surged inside of her, How are there-
An ear piercing wail shot through the air. It rang in her ears, pierced her mind, and sent Lucina to her knees as pain split through her head. Ragged gasps left her lips as she felt the dark side crawling over the walls. It swept over the city like a consuming fog, swallowing up her other senses. Blotting out the deaths and pain she felt in the force and consuming it whole.
Panic seized her when she saw strange, purple mist shoot through the slit beneath the door and rush towards her. Lucina backpedaled, but could not avoid it as it slammed into her. Hard coughs wracked her lungs as the mist rushed into her mouth and nose, nearly suffocating her.
As quickly as the mist grabbed her, it vanished. Lucina sagged to her hands and knees, gasping for breath. As she sucked in air she realized something strange. Her ribs no longer hurt. She pressed her hand against her side and did not feel a massive bruise over it. Her brow furrowed in confusion.
What is going on?
She surged to her feet and rushed out of the door. Horror spread through her as she watched that same, strange mist run over the fallen bodies of every dead soldier on the battlefield. It filled their bodies, nearly consuming them whole. Their skin turned ashen, and their eyes turned red as the Fell Dragon's power filled them. Thousands rose to their feet once more, rendering everyone else fighting on the walls too stunned and terrified to move.
H-how!?
She spun around, looking at the strangely docile Risen surrounding her. It was as if she was reliving her past, and entering this world's future. Flashes of Ylisstol's last days danced in her mind.
Where is he!? He wondered, panicking as she searched the skies for any sign of the Fell Dragon.
Instead, she caught sight of a lone figure floating down to the ground, a black staff with a midnight gem on top clutched in one hand. A figure Lucina recognized and was now horrified to see.
"Aunt Emmeryn?"
Despite nearly every soldier, every guard, every able bodied fighter being out on the walls of Koto or at the main gate, holding off the Valmese Legions, the Palace still buzzed with activity. Tiki strode through the halls and corridors, looking around with sympathetic, sad eyes as she watched one wounded soldier after another wounded soldier transported within the Palace Walls on stretchers. She could smell the blood hanging in the air within the palace. If it was not a smell she was used to at this point in her life, she likely would've suffocated from it. Her sensitive ears heard the moans and screams from wounded men and women in different areas of the palace as healers attended to them, trying to save their lives.
Nowi slowly walked alongside the older Manakete, the usually energetic young Manakete rendered quiet by the suffering surrounding them. Every so often, her little ears would twtich and she'd snap her gaze in the direction of a loud cry, flinching as she realized what was causing it.
As the pair reached the palace entry, they paused, allowing several more healers to rush in with fresh wounded on stretchers. Nowi paled when she caught sight of the bloody wounds, barely staunched by heavy gauze and vulneraries. Tiki noticed her distress and placed a reassuring arm over her shoulders.
"Are you alright?"
Nowi gulped and shook her head, "They're all-" She squeezed her eyes shut, "It reminds me of Ricken."
Tiki furrowed her brow in confusion. She'd heard that name before. Everytime someone said that name, heavy sadness would linger on their words. She could sense through the force Nowi's own sorrow when she said his name. Then she sensed a second life force in Nowi move at the name, making Tiki's eyes widen.
How did I not notice before?
"Nowi?"
"Hm?"
"Are you-"
Nowi uttered a heavy sigh and nodded, "It's why I'm not out there, fighting."
Tiki swallowed hard. This was certainly unexpected. In her three thousand years she had some… trysts. Nothing that ever meant anything. They occurred out of curiosity more than anything else. The only one during that time who ever meant anything to her was Marth. Nothing ever amounted out of from her feelings for him. It was a relationship never meant to be. Yet, even in her small escapades, she never had something like that happen to her. She never allowed it. Yet here was Nowi, with a new Manakete growing inside of her.
Far too young as well. Tiki thought to herself with a heavy sigh.
"Was Ricken the father?"
Nowi sniffled and nodded, "He… he died, in Plegia. A Deadlord killed him."
Tiki opened her mouth in understanding. No wonder all of the Shepherds held great sorrow whenever Ricken came up in conversation. They counted him as one of their fallen. She observed how the Shepherds for a few days now, and they reminded her greatly of her travels with Marth and his companions. They were all a close knit group of not just comrades, but close friends. One could even venture to call them a loosely connected family. Not based on blood but on bonds. It spoke wonders about Prince Chrom that he was able to get such a diverse group of individuals to come together and fight as one. It certainly made him worthy of being part of Marth's bloodline.
Because of these close bonds, whenever one was severed, the pain lingered, both in reality and in the force. Tiki could sense it and she was sure Nowi could too, even if she did not fully understand it. It made her grief that much more intense, because she could feel every else's grief as well.
This one will need instruction. Tiki thought as she reassuringly rubbed Nowi's shoulder, Perhaps I won't return to the Mila Tree once this is all finished.
"Come Nowi." Tiki muttered, guiding her away from the main door when she saw more wounded being rushed up the palace steps, "Lets step away from here."
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Libra and Maribelle emerge from one of the palace's many rooms. Donnel was with them. Tiki recently learned that the young man was grievously wounded during one of the opening battles of the war. While nearly fully recovered, the other Shepherds were still hesitant to throw him right back into the heat of battle so early. So he stayed behind to guard the healers. A task he undertook with enthusiasm.
Tiki guided Nowi over to them. Maribelle noticed the duo first.
"Is everything alright, Lady Tiki?" Maribelle asked, slightly bowing her head in deference to the Manakete.
Tiki smiled a little bit, "There is no need for that, Maribelle. You are the noblewoman, I am not."
"But you are quite an important religious figure, as Naga's voice." Maribelle countered, "It is only proper that I show such deference." She noticed Donnel standing still and quickly smacked him on the chest, "Show deference."
"Aw, r-right." Donnel bowed, "My apologies milady. Still ain't used to this sorta thing."
Tiki chuckled lightly, "You both are fine." She turned her attention to Libra, "Do you require any assistance?"
Libra uttered a weary sigh, "I could use more elixirs and vulneraries. Sadly, our supply is running low and we have no way to replenish. I dare not send anyone out into the city to gather up what we need."
Tiki's ears twitched, "Sounds simple e-"
She froze, sensing the currents of the Force suddenly change throughout the city. The sense of uncertainty disappeared, replaced with a feeling of impending doom and dread. Nowi shivered beside Tiki, reaching out and taking her by the hand.
"It's really cold." The younger Manakete complained.
Tiki furrowed her brow. The others seemed to notice the sudden change as well. The dark clouds over the city darkened further, making the day feel like night. Lightning and thunder rumbled in the previously silent rainstorm. By no means were they natural.
The dark side… Tiki sensed it now. Her senses stretched out at that point, and she quickly found the source. Two new beings, new deadlords, being born before their very eyes. Her eyes widened. How? Robin died, so Grima should be…
She let her hand slip from Nowi's grasp.
"Tiki?" Nowi whimpered.
"Maribelle, keep Nowi close. Don't let her out of your sight." Tiki ordered the Duchess.
"What's wrong?" Maribelle asked, noticing Tiki's change in demeanor from gentle and quiet to focused and wary.
"I'm not sure, but I need to go to the front lines. Donnel, can you and Anna hold things here?"
Donnel scratched the back of his head, "We'll do our best ma'am."
Tiki nodded, "Good. I'll be back before long."
She turned away, pink cape fluttering behind her. Once she was out of sight of the other Shepherds she picked up her pace. She ran out of the palace's safe confines and into the chaotic streets of Koto. As she ran, she noticed two bright lights forming on the battlefield down the hill from the palace.
As I feared, more deadlords.
Her jog turned into a sprint as she rushed for the front lines. She could not make out what the Deadlords looked like, but she knew ill intent when she sensed it. Part of her was still confused as she neared the front lines, wondering how it was possible for more Deadlords to appear despite Grima's vessel dying.
Grima must have somehow survived. She realized, And he may be making his move to destroy us now.
If that was the case, then she knew what she would have to do. Grima was powerful, even without his vessel. She would have to confront him personally. Their battle would be devastating, and she likely would perish in the attempt. But she would make sure to take Grima with her if she had to. It would require her to unleash entirely, but after coming to know everyone within these city walls, she was fully prepared to make that sacrifice.
She neared the front lines. The sounds of battle carried on the wind and filtered into her sensitive ears. She heard the savagery before she saw it. Thousands of screams, cries, and groans rang out around her. Swords clashed, bows sang, spells thundered; for a lesser Manakete, inexperienced in their abilities, it would have been overwhelming.
But not for me.
She reached the main gate, where she knew the fighting would be the most intense. Immediately she caught sight of the strange Deadlord, Dooku, dueling another Deadlord. One with green skin and black robes that covered almost her entire body. Her green blade clashed violently with Dooku's red saber, but the old man appeared to have the advantage, forcing the other Deadlord to retreat back into the gate's shadow.
The next person she noticed was Luke. The young man was doing an excellent job commanding the Chon'sin military. He allowed Khan Flavia and her Feroxi to comprise the first few lines of defense, knowing that their heavier armor would serve them well against the waves of lightly armored Valmese grunts. Their lances also proved deadly for the Valmese cavalry that attempted to punch holes into the lines. Tiki saw horse carcassas and fallen riders littering the area beyond the main gate as the Feroxi pushed back the Valmese with each successive charge.
Any Valmese that were unfortunate enough to make it through the Feroxi Lancers came face to face with Luke and his men. His blue saber cut savage arcs of sapphire light through the air as he cut down one Valmese soldier after another. The Force wrapped around him, flowed through him in strange shades of gray that made Tiki quite curious about his true nature.
Her focus turned to the walls, where she spotted Prince Chrom and Sir Frederick fighting back to back against a never ending tide of Valmese surging up onto the walls. The gate was holding strong, but the walls were failing. That was where she was needed.
Tiki rushed to a set of stairs, quickly scaling them. As she neared the top, she drew back, watching the body of a Ylissean soldier fall onto the steps. She deftly stepped over the fallen soldier and stepped up into the fray.
As soon as she set foot on the walls, she attracted the attention of a group of Valmese grunts. They brandished their swords at her and rushed her. Little did they know the gravity of their mistake.
Tiki allowed white fire to consume her hands. She did not like the idea of attacking other humans, especially ones like these Valmese soldiers, who unknowingly fought alongside servants of Grima. But she had to defend herself in the end. A regrettable situation.
She buried a fist into the gut of one soldier, engulfing him in white fire that quickly killed him. The other soldiers hesitated at that point, but Tiki did not. She made short work of them and moved past their burning forms as the white fire consumed them.
Swiftly, she made her way towards Prince Chrom. As she reached him an ear piercing wail shot through the air, making her flinch and reach for her ears. The force howled with the wail, creating a wall of sound that nearly overwhelmed her. Fell, purple mist swept over the walls and city, causing goosebumps to form on her arms.
What manner of magic is this?
She whipped her gaze up to one Deadlord slowly fluttering back down to the ground, between the lines of waiting Valmese and the ones already engaged in heavy fighting. A second Deadlord waited for that one on the ground. While she did not recognize the first Deadlord, who wielded a black staff and seemed to command the mist rising from the ground, she did recognize the second Deadlord, and it made her heart stop in her chest.
It's… me.
How… how was it possible? Unless Tiki had some twin she was unaware of, then there was no way for a Deadlord to be her. It had to be some trick. An illusion created by the Fell Dragon to rattle her. It certainly worked. Her previous confidence walking into this battle wavered at the sight of an evil doppelganger lingering out beyond the front lines, as if it were waiting for her to come and fight.
The battle came to a standstill as the purple mist flooded into the bodies of the fallen. Tiki's eyes widened as she felt the force ripple around her. Her stomach lurched as she watched dead soldiers' eyes flick open all around her. Scarlet light filled their eyes as the Fell Dragon's power coursed through them.
Is he really this powerful? Tiki swallowed hard, Gods above. She thought, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.
She felt too stunned to move. She knew Grima was powerful, but she never imagined he could will the dead back to life at this magnitude.
Corpses rose to their feet on the battlefield. They remained motionless, as if they were waiting for a command. Both Valmese and Archanean soldiers stood still, holding their collective breath. All eyes were glued to the two Deadlords out in the open. The one with the staff turned away from the Conqueror's army and faced the city.
"E-Emm?" Chrom croaked.
Tiki sensed shock rip through the Prince. Sorrow swiftly followed as the Ylissean prince staggered forward, eyes glued to the blonde woman staring down the city.
Her eyes widened, Exalt Emmeryn. She grit her teeth in fury as she looked out to the two new Deadlords, Grima, you dare defile Naga's bloodline!
A horn blew in the breeze. It came from the Valmese lines. Tiki caught sight of Emperor Walhart straddling his horse, riding to the front of his last wave of men. A massive surge of Valmese were about to strike.
Is he that foolish!? Tiki thought, He thinks he can wipe out the Risen, the Deadlords, and us in one strike?
The Deadlord that wore Exalt Emmeryn's skin twirled around to face the marching Valmese. Silently, she raised her staff. Black light emanated from the gem on top of her staff. Each Risen she raised reacted to the light, turning their attention to it and groaning as one.
Tiki locked eyes with Sir Frederick. For the first time, she saw the Knight Commander look afraid. One Deadlord controlled a third army on the field. An army capable of wiping all of them out and growing its numbers in the process.
Tiki reached for a small gemstone hidden in a pouch on her hip. Her last resort may be necessary now. She would have to break the seal in order to make certain they were victorious this day. In order to stop Grima, she would have to risk her own power running amok.
Better mine than his.
The Risen shrieked all around her, making her hair stand on end. Valmese and Archanean soldiers shook in their boots at the sound. Then, to Tiki's utter shock, the Risen surged out of the city, off of the walls, and away from the gates, moving right at the charging Valmese legions. At the same time, Walhart's main cavalry broke into full gallop, with him at the head. He raised his massive ax, ready to cleave the head off of Emmeryn's head.
Both deadlords vanished in a puff of purple mist before he could slay them. Walhart recoiled in his saddle, but did not break off his charge. Instead, his cavalry and last army group crashed against the horde of Risen.
A switch flipped, and the fighting resumed. A Valmese soldier uttered a cry and swung his sword with all his strength at Frederick, catching the knight off guard. Tiki quickly stepped in, using her white flames to end the attacker's life before he could harm the Knight Commander.
"My thanks, milady." Frederick nodded.
"Focus on the battle at hand, Sir." Tiki replied, "It looks like these Risen are on our side."
"Indeed." Frederick glanced around a moment. He then whipped his gaze around, "Where is the Prince?"
Tiki furrowed her brow. She searched the chaos on the walls, but found no sight of him.
He saw his sister on the battlefield... oh no.
"Frederick, we need to get out there." Tiki nodded towards the mass of Valmese cavalry and Risen clashing in the rice fields outside of the walls.
Frederick paled, "You don't think-"
"He saw Emmeryn. I don't think, I know." Tiki interrupted, "We cannot let him die today."
"I'll give my life before I allow milord to give his own!" Frederick declared, surging towards a Valmese ladder and punching a Valmese soldier off of it. He held out a hand to Tiki, "We must make haste."
Tiki took his hand and held on tight. Frederick shoved the ladder away from the wall. The ladder teetered for a moment, then plummeted down towards the shrinking Valmese ranks. At the last moment, Tiki shot a wind spell at the ground, slowing their descent just enough so the impact didn't kill both of them.
Tiki sprang to her feet, whipping white fire around her as Frederick shakily rose. At that moment, a roar erupted from the city. Feroxi Lancers came screaming out of the main gate, crashing into the confused Valmese lines and tearing them to shreds. Khan Flavia and Luke lead the way, both wreaking havoc on the enemy. Yen'fay followed them with thousands of Chon'sin soldiers. Sweeping through the now terrified Valmese ranks with ease. Their charge focused directly on the Conqueror as his own charge came to a halt thanks to the dwindling ranks of Risen on the field. A last desperate gambit to defeat the seemingly invincible man.
And it may just work. Tiki thought as she watched the Valmese front lines break before the charge. They fled before the fury of the Archaneans. A small retreat turned into a large route as the sea of red receded back to their leader.
"Frederick." Tiki breathed.
"Yes, milady?"
Tiki set her sights on the horde of Risen. At the very center, she caught sight of the two deadlords. Emmeryn stood at the center of the undead mass, staff radiating its fell light as she commanded the horde. The Deadlord wearing Tiki's skin stood beside her, as if it was guarding her. Anytime a Valmese soldier got close, she would quickly dispatch them with a blast of purple fire radiating fell magic. It made Tiki's stomach flip.
Walhart's charge slowly worked towards her, but he was losing horsemen by the thousands to the Risen. Still, his stubbornness won out. Or perhaps it was his own arrogance believing in his perceived invulnerability. Regardless, the battle hung on the edge of a knife, and Tiki could feel it drawing to its close.
"Let's help end this."
Despite his youth, Chrom had seen many battles. From light skirmishes involving no more than a dozen or so people, to titanic clashes of armies that enveloped entire landscapes and cities, he had seen war in all of its ugly colors.
At first, the battle at Koto had been no different. Certainly there was much more desperation surrounding this battle than any before. It was not everyday he helped lead an army of roughly sixty thousand against an army of one million, but he still viewed it as another battle. He still viewed it as winnable, because he and the Shepherds had already been in so many impossible battles. In every impossible situation, they carried the day. Whether it had been in Plegia when Gangrel led his armies to crush the Feroxi and Ylissean coalition once and for all, or at sea when the Valmese navy was barreling towards the Archanean shores. Charlet and the meat grinder that was the city's port and beach, Demon's Ingle and the volcano's fury in the midst of heavy fighting; it all impacted the battle, impacted him, but it never wavered his ability to command and his belief in victory.
He felt that resolve being tested with every uncertain step he took out into the rice fields beyond Koto. His boots sank into mud and deep puddles as he marched out of the city. While he marched, the Archeanean and Chon'sin armies charged out. Screaming at the top of their lungs as they routed the first few waves of stunned Valmese. But the Prince was not focused on the routed enemy lines, or the stifled Valmese cavalry charge further ahead of him. His entire being was focused on one woman, with a black staff, commanding a horde of Risen that blocked the Conqueror from finishing off Koto's defenders.
It was Emmeryn, or some strange perversion of her. It couldn't be her. She was dead. He watched Maul kill her. Saw her body plummet down the cliffs in Plegia. He was never able to bury her because of Gangrel and the Grimleal, but he was at her funeral. Mourned her for days afterwards.
No, it was not Emmeryn. She would never step foot on a battlefield and lead soldiers. Such actions were against the creed she tried desperately to hold onto. She believed in peace above all else and would never lead an army unless it was her only option. Whatever this thing was in front of Chrom, it was not Emmeryn. It was an abomination.
His heart ached at that realization. It looked just like her. She seemed paler than he remembered, appeared menacing instead of tranquil, but everything about her looked similar.
He needed to know if it was really her. Needed to see if Emmeryn was actually alive, or if this was some sick spell tricking his mind. His pace picked up as he rushed towards the Risen horde that churned in front of him, consuming the retreating Valmese soldiers and adding their corpses to their ranks.
Another roar erupted from his army as they shattered the rest of the retreating Valmese and barrelled towards the Risen. To Chrom's shock, Emmeryn raised her staff, and the sea of Risen parted, allowing the Archanean army to charge through them and slam into Walhart's stalled charge. He could see Luke and Flavia at the very front of the charge, leading Lancers and Chon'sin warriors into the mass of terrified Valmese soldiers and cavalry. Their charge not slowed by anything, not even the thick mud from the storm.
Falchion was already slick with blood as Chrom neared the main fray. He paused within the Risen ranks, looking around as sudden horror filled him. These Risen were all once on his side, or on the Conqueror's side. Their peace and free will were stripped from them as they were made to serve some insidious purpose. A purpose he failed to understand in the moment. It was a vile action that Chrom knew Emmeryn would never do, nor would she be capable of. He glanced at her one more time. He was so close to her, he could practically see the glow of her red eyes through the throngs of walking dead.
Chrom turned his attention back to the main battle. The Conqueror's charge may have been stymied, but he was not defeated. His numbers were still vast, and soon his army would recover and push back against the Archanean advance. Chrom needed to rejoin the battle. His men, the brave soldiers of Ylisse, needed to see him standing on the front lines, fighting with everything he had to preserve their freedoms. Fighting to end the reign of a tyrant. This selfish goal of seeing Emmeryn once again would have to wait.
The only way this battle would end, the only way the Valmese would surrender entirely, is if their figurehead fell. The Conqueror needed to be defeated in battle, personally. Chrom tightened his grip on Falchion and turned to charge into battle. Rain dripped down his face as his blue eyes scanned the chaos for the Conqueror.
It was not hard to find him. The mammoth of a man had dismounted from his steed in order to fight the Archaneans. His massive ax swung in savage arcs through the air, lopping limbs off any enemy of his that dared to challenge him. Chrom's eyes narrowed as he watched Yen'fay break free from fighting the Valmese grunts in order to stand face to face against the Conqueror. Regardless of how great a warrior Yen'fay appeared to be, Walhart was a powerhouse. He would need help.
Luke was occupied commanding the bulk of their forces. Directing charges and defenses, leading the Chon'sin forces into the fray. Flavia was busy preventing the Valmese cavalry from regaining any momentum, marching her lancers up the field of battle and pushing the enemy back on their heels. Above the battlefield, the Pegasus Knights swooped down in savage, lightning fast strikes. Picking off Valmese soldiers unfortunate enough to stand out too much in the melee. He could not find Ben or Dooku, but he assumed they were busy dealing with the Deadlord monsters that entered the battle back near the walls.
That left him, the Prince of Ylisse, to join the disgraced General of Chon'sin in a duel against the Valmese Tyrant. He cast one last longing glance to Emmeryn, took a deep breath, spun on his heel, and charged at the Conqueror.
He steeled his courage. Raindrops ran down Falchion, mixing with blood in runny, scarlet rivers that drenched his hands. His muddy boots stomped up onto the rain soaked road where Yen'fay stood against Walhart. As Chrom approached, Yen'fay made his first move, snarling as he swung his sword in a harsh, upwards arc. Walhart jerked his head back then shot a large fist out at Yen'fay, tagging the much smaller man on the chin.
Yen'fay stumbled back. The punch didn't even look like it had a lot of force behind it, but it was enough to daze the Chon'sin general. Before Yen'fay could fully recover, Walhart's ax hissed through the air, aiming to take his head off.
It did not connect. Chrom dashed forward, raising Falchion and catching Walhart's axe with the divine blade. The two weapons ground together. Sparks spat from the steel. Chrom grit his teeth as his feet sank further into the mud.
Naga, he's strong!
Chrom yanked Falchion away, the divine blade shrieking as it slid against Walhart's ax. Before Walhart could follow up with another strike, Chrom hopped back to stand by Yen'fay's side.
"Thought you could use some help." Chrom remarked, focusing his eyes on Walhart as the Conqueror remained still in front of them.
"Appreciated, but he's mine." Yen'fay snarled, "He had my sister killed. I will avenge her."
Chrom glanced over at Yen'fay. Usually the man wore a neutral mask on his face. That mask was gone, replaced by an enraged expression as he stared down the Conqueror. Yen'fay shivered with anger as he tightened his grip on his blade and pointed the tip at the Conqueror.
"This is your end, Tyrant!"
Before Chrom could react, Yen'fay charged again. His katana cut a brutal swath through the rain soaked air, aiming to take the Conqueror's head from his shoulders. The Conqueror displayed shocking agility, ducking beneath the strike and slamming the blunt side of his ax into Yen'fay's gut.
Yen'fay doubled over. Air wheezed in and out of his lungs as he struggled to breathe. He staggered forward a couple steps before dropping to a knee, one hand clutching his stomach.
"A pathetic effort in the end." Walhart said, tone even as he glared down at Yen'fay. He looked at the battle around him, watching as his forces consolidated and reorganized. The Archanean charge lost ground, and the Valmese roared to life once more, "Such a waste. You could have been so much more under my Empire, Yen'fay. You were so much more already. Now, you sacrificed your life, your family, your people, for what? Some misguided attempt at freedom, at peace on your own terms?" His milky eyes glanced over at Chrom, "You both don't see it, but I do. Peace can only be achieved one way, through force. Peace through strength. If you stand against my goal to unite this world, then I shall sweep you aside. For if you stand against me, you stand against peace."
Chrom grit his teeth as Yen'fay struggled to rise to his feet.
"This hardly looks like peace to me." The Prince spat back, circling around Walhart so he could get near Yen'fay, "What good has your conquest done, Conqueror? It has caused your own people to grow desperate as they yearn for freedom, for the ability to decide their own destinies."
"Desperate?" Walhart's face twisted into a snarl, "Do you have any idea what this continent was like before you decided to invade? Before I decided to embark on my great conquest? This land was enveloped in petty wars. Peasants were slaughtered like sheep as dynasts throughout the continent battled each other. For what? For a scrap of land, or for respect due to a perceived slight. It was chaos, and I have brought order. You intend to upend that order, and for that you will die." Walhart circled Chrom, moving away from Yen'fay and allowing the Chon'sin General to stagger to his feet, "I wanted to bring that same order, that peace, to Archanea as well, Prince." His milky eyes glanced over at Emmeryn as she raised her staff once more, rallying what remained of the Risen around her, "You could say that at one time, your sister and I were of the same mind. That we held the same goal at heart."
Chrom's face twisted into a snarl, "You dare say that? Emmeryn would be appalled by what you have done."
"And I am appalled by what she did." Walhart retorted, "I admired her for her desire to achieve peace, but I was appalled by her lack of will to achieve it. The meek, the weak, they do not deserve peace because they are incapable of seizing it. She realized the error of her ways too late." He glanced in Emmeryn's direction, "I heard of her death, but it puzzles me how she is here now. Perhaps, in your desperation, Prince Chrom, you have made a pact with a demon. What greater enemy to peace is there than someone who is willing to do that?"
Chrom struggled to contain his anger. He glanced at Emmeryn as well. The many lessons he learned from her, both in life and in the wake of her death, raced through his mind. Even with a tyrant like Walhart, she would have given him one last chance to change his ways.
"You claim to want peace, then let us end this fighting." Chrom said, lowering Falchion as he faced Walhart, "Join me, let us be allies instead of enemies."
"ME!? JOIN YOU!?" Walhart scoffed, "Does a pegasus join with the flea on its back? A dragon, with a cow it eats? You forget your place, boy! I am the Conqueror! I will unite the world!"
Chrom grit his teeth, "No… you won't. I will. Not through fear, or strength of arms. Not by forcing people to choose the sword or the knee, as you have done, but by stoking people's hearts… not their fears."
"Such tripe." Walhart growled, "I've heard enough. You, just like your sister, are weak. Incapable of recognizing the harsh realities of the world we live in. This cruel world, the enemies we both know to exist, they only understand one thing. Those that would stand against peace only understand strength. You are incapable of understanding that, so you will join them in death. Die for your peace!"
Walhart's ax twirled in his hands. The mighty weapon hissed through the air and rain. Chrom quickly raised Falchion and blocked the savage strike. The Prince jerked Falchion free and countered, flicking the tip of his blade at Walhart's chest. Walhart muscled through the strike, letting the blow glance off of his scarlet armor, leaving a deep scratch, but nothing more. Like an unstoppable bull on a rampage, Walhart stormed at Chrom, swinging down with his ax. Aiming to cleave the Prince in two.
Chrom sidestepped the strike, but Walhart moved quickly. He adjusted his ax and swung to the side. Chrom's eyes widened. He could not dodge this attack. As quickly as he could, he brought Falchion down to meet the chop, just barely lowering it in time to block the ax blade.
The brute strength behind the swipe sent Chrom falling backwards. He landed hard in the mud, sinking a little bit as the rain intensified around him. Walhart pounced, standing over Chrom and raising his ax over his head, murder in his once unreadable gaze. Chrom's eyes widened. He was not going to be able to move fast enough. The mud kept him from getting the leverage he needed to block the coming blow.
Just as Walhart was about to bring Wolfberg crashing down onto Chrom, Yen'fay attacked. The Chon'sin General drove his sword into Walhart's back. Walhart howled as Amatsu slipped through his scarlet armor and bit into his body. The massive man twirled around and backhanded Yen'fay, the sudden motion yanking Yen'fay's blade from his grip.
Chrom surged to his feet, using Yen'fay's distraction to his advantage. He swiped with Falchion at Walhart's back, slashing through his armor until Falchion met Yen'fay's blade. He quickly yanked Falchion away, grit his teeth and backpedaled away from a wild swing from Walhart's ax.
The Conqueror's face twisted with pain and rage. With a snarl, Walhart pulled Amatsu from his body and let it fall to the ground. Somehow, the two strikes did not stop him. It only made him grow stronger. Chrom took a deep breath as he thought quickly, trying to figure out how to finally defeat the Tyrant.
The massive man was far stronger than him. Walhart was also seemingly faster. In every way, the Conqueror was a superior warrior. One blow from his ax could be the end for Chrom, whereas the Conqueror shrugged off two harsh blows from Yen'fay's blade and from Falchion. Chrom would have to land a fatal blow, but he needed to create the opportunity to do so.
He recalled a lesson he received not too long ago, from a mad swordsman and a crotchety old man.
Dictate the rules of engagement.
What were the apparent weaknesses in the way Walhart fought? He was faster, stronger, more skilled, but he relied on brute strength more than anything else. Arrogance permeated every strike he made and every word he spoke. He truly believed that his way was greater than any other. Which meant he was overconfident in his approach.
I need to bait him. Chrom realized.
He quickly backpedaled, creating distance between himself and the Conqueror. A frustrated growl rumbled from Walhart.
"Running away? Are you realizing the error of your ways?" He rushed at Chrom as Chrom backed away towards the edge of a rice field.
At the last second, Chrom jumped to the side, avoiding Walhart's savage ax swing. As Walhart's ax hit nothing but air, he lost his balance on the edge of the road. For a moment, he teetered back and forth. The teetering ended when Chrom drove his shoulder into the small of the Conqueror's back, using all of his strength to pick the massive man up and drive him into the flooded rice field.
Water flooded every sense. The sounds of battle turned muffled. His breath lodged in his throat as he held them, trying to prevent water from flooding into his lungs. Chrom could feel Walhart struggling against him in the water, but his size and strength betrayed the Conqueror here. He twisted and turned, but he could not generate the same amount of power while slowed by the water, could not gain the leverage he needed to swing his ax as Chrom remained on top of him, keeping them both underwater.
The rules of engagement changed. Walhart was no longer in control. Even if this domain was just as perilous for Chrom, it was far more dangerous for the man in extremely heavy armor.
Walhart's struggling intensified. Bubbles rose from his lips as he spun around to face Chrom. Chrom jabbed the pommel of his sword against Walhart's right hand, causing him to lose his grip on Wolfberg. Walhart's head surged up and collided with Chrom's forehead. Chrom grit his teeth as sharp pain lanced through his skull, but he refused to fall back. He shoved Walhart down again, pressing the conqueror into the deep muck at the bottom of the rice field.
The Conqueror's eyes widened as he struggled to get to the surface. His hands clawed at Chrom. His feet kicked desperatly, trying to dislodge the Ylissean Prince. Chrom's lungs burned. He was almost out of air.
Just a little longer.
Walhart reached up and grabbed Chrom's head, taking Chrom off guard. The Conqueror yanked Chrom's head forehead, bashing it against his breastplate. Stars danced in Chrom's eyes as his head spun. His body slackened as he recoiled from the sharp blow. Walhart slipped away from him, making Chrom's heart speed up in his chest.
The Conqueror emerged from the flooded field first, poking his head up and throwing himself against the embankment along the road. Harsh coughs wracked his lungs as he crawled up the small slope towards the road. As he reached the top, Chrom surged up from the water. Unlike the Conqueror, he raced up the hill, Falchion in hand. With a loud cry, the Prince drove Falchion through the back of Walhart's shoulder, not stopping until he felt the divine blade pierce the muddy ground. Pinning the Conqueror down.
This time, the Conqueror did not cry out in pain, he simply sagged against the ground, gasping for breath. As he lay there, Yen'fay stepped forward. Amatsu rested in his hands as he stood over the exhausted Conqueror.
Chrom remained on top of Walhart, keeping his weight pressed down on Falchion in case the massive man tried to wriggle free. He looked up at Yen'fay.
"I'd say we won." He breathed.
Yen'fay's hard gaze remained fixed on the defeated Conqueror. Chrom saw the General's fists tighten.
"This is my chance." Yen'fay breathed, "To kill him for everything he has done to my family."
Walhart tensed beneath Chrom. Chrom bowed his head and nodded.
"Yeah, it is." Chrom raised his gaze, "But… would that make you any better than him?"
Yen'fay's eyes snapped up to Chrom. His brow furrowed as he contemplated Chrom's words.
"No…" Yen'fay admitted, "It wouldn't." He placed the tip of his blade near Walhart's throat, "Give the command." He ordered the Conqueror.
The Conqueror's milky eyes stared up at Yen'fay. Fury faded away, replaced with shock as he realized that he had lost. He glanced around, watching as the horde of Risen returned to the main battle, colliding with his already off balance forces and slaughtering them. The conscripts that made up the majority of his army tossed their weapons down and fled in the face of such a terrifying onslaught. Right into the whooping cries of a group of mercenaries led by a wild haired man with a large sword. His famed cavalry, the soldiers that made him an Empire, crumbled as Feroxi Lancers and Risen monsters slammed against them.
It was over, but he refused to believe it.
Walhart snarled as he raised his powerful voice.
"I will never-"
Chrom cracked a fist against the back of the Conqueror's head. Walhart's eyes fluttered, then he went limp; lying face down in the mud, blood, and rain.
Chrom uttered a weary sigh and looked up at Yen'fay.
"Got tired of his blustering."
Yen'fay snorted, "So you drowned him. Smart move." He looked around.
The Valmese were running. Many saw their Conqueror fall, and lost heart. The fear of the Risen added to their terror, forcing the once mighty Valmese army to crumble. Soldiers in red armor threw down their weapons and raised their hands in surrender. Archanean and Chon'sin soldiers quickly surrounded those who surrendered, keeping their weapons trained on them in case of treachery.
But there would be no treachery. Walhart was beaten. With his defeat, the spirit of the Valmese Empire was broken. Yen'fay took a deep breath.
"I hope I don't regret killing him now."
Chrom got to his feet, leaving Falchion in Walhart's shoulder.
"You won't." Chrom replied.
The Prince observed the battlefield. A few Risen chased after the retreating Valmese soldiers, but most turned docile once the outcome was determined. Against all odds, the Shepherds and their allies carried the day once again.
The war was over.
And chapter! The battle is finished! And with it comes the end of the Valm War. This was a tough battle to write. So much had to happen in such a short span of time that is was extremely difficult to juggle. But I am happy with how it turned out, and I hope it was entertaining for all of you as well. There will be an epilogue chapter for this arc coming up next, so stay tuned! We've got some cleaning up to do in the wake of this war after all. Then… well, we'll see where it goes from here. There's a certain Sith Lord still searching for this planet after all.
Anyways, let me know what you all think of this chapter! As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!
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