What's this? Another chapter so soon?! Yes it is!
I'm very excited about having gotten this out so quickly compared to my previous schedule, since it means getting closer and closer to a climax and then a conclusion. But there's still so much more to be seen, so sit tight!
FallenRaindrops: that is exactly how I picture it too! I remember seeing m!Grima's damage CG with his everything out, and the Discord group I'm in just. collectively lost its mind. And yes, at least at one point in the fic the canon Shepherd will group will all have interactions with one another.
AmeYuuki: who said there won't be Olivia/Daraen content in this fic? ;)
Jinx333: thank you for your kind words! I hope you like this chapter too!
If Robin thought the feast was a respite, then she had another thing coming…
One Plegian was bad enough to give him nightmares. Two more was past his breaking limit. The horde that had descended upon the castle trapped his mind within an endless loop of paranoid terror.
The castle was a sanctuary no longer; the city was sacred no more. Their arrival had tainted them irreparably.
First Themis was invaded, now Ylisstol. Is Mount Prism next? he fretted.
Even being in the same room as them was pure agony. His skin crawled uncontrollably as he witnessed, utterly dismayed, as the castle's occupants cooed and fawned over the animals and gifts on display. Nothing more than expensive bribes and baubles. Would the court really go as far as to forget their morals and principles over spices and silks?
Knowing them, it's likely, he thought darkly, downing his goblet of wine in a single gulp. It threatened to come back up in a rush of bile as a Plegian servant offered him a refill. He declined, naturally—the wine was now tainted as well.
He had to leave the feast before his disgust became too obvious. To tolerate the presence of Plegians in Ylisstol Castle would be to spit on the memory of Exalt Godric (may he rest in peace). The last straw was seeing how Chrom, innocent, hapless Chrom, delighted in the company of such godless heathens. That vile Plegian, garbed in devilish thorns and an absolutely indecent tunic, sat by his side: laughing, talking, touching him, feeding him—
Gasping for air as he finally escaped into the gardens, he immediately sought out his blackmailer.
"You're upset because of a couple of Plegians? Gods, you're hysterical. Come back to me when there's a real problem to tackle." They rolled their eyes as they reclined leisurely on a ratty divan, munching away on a pouch of kumquats.
They had set up shop, so to speak, in an area so well hidden within the castle that even he had no idea of its existence; its only inhabitants were multitudes of spiders and their cobwebs. Centuries of discarded and forgotten furniture and trinkets had been gathered up and placed around the circular room in an attempt to make it more suitable for humans.
Not that it did any good. He wrinkled his nose in distaste as he touched the wall and, startled, withdrew it from the slimy, mouldy stone. "I-it's n-not just t-that…h-how are we to achieve anything with those i-infidels hanging about?"
"What, like it's hard? Good grief, are you expecting me to do all the work around here? Are you seriously whining about such trivialities so early in the game?"
"N-no," he protested, hurt over being belittled so. "I…I just think that their presence presents…difficulties to what we hope to achieve."
They scoffed. "That is the entire point of working from the shadows. What's a few more people to worry about? It's not as if they'll be able to sniff us out and ruin our plans. No one even knows that we're even acquainted. You're worrying about a minor inconsequence in the grander scheme of things."
"E-even so—"
"And besides…" they grinned, wickedly fierce, their square teeth uncannily white in the low light of the room. "We've more important things to discuss."
They withdrew a sheaf of papers from within their robes and threw it on the rickety table, scattering them across its rotting surface.
He stared, unsure.
"Are you daft? Go on and read them!"
He gathered them up shakily. All were written in the common script, mostly maps and permits allowing for free passage on the continent's roads—very hard to come by nowadays.
One of the notes, however, caught his eye:
"'This Writ is to be used as a Proof of my Authority…I am charged with organising a Search Party to locate His Highness Prince Daraen and bring him to Safety by the Power of The Theocracy of Plegia…'" he read aloud. The letter's authenticity was verified by the wax seal stamped at the bottom, an ugly, bruise purple six-eyed sigil.
Their blackmailer smiled as he trailed off.
"W…what on earth is this? Where did you get this from? What does it mean by 'search party?' Who would need a search party? And for P-P-Prince D-Daraen? But he's here in the castle! What is going on?"
They rose from the divan with an impossible fluidity, their steps simultaneously lazy and giddy as they circled him with that knowing, catty look in their eyes. "That's what we're about to find out, my dear. Just stand back and watch."
They stepped on a large stone embedded into the floor. To his amazement, the ground rumbled and groaned beneath them, the sound of grinding gears filling the room until a rocky set of stairs spiraling deep beneath the earth was revealed. A rush of musty cold air from below greeted them.
"After you," they said with a grin.
He gulped. He leaned forward into the yawning, looming dark. Then, with a frightened, hesitant first step, he descended the stairs into the consuming black. They followed after. Soon, the gears began to grind again and the stone moved back into place, with nothing left behind to suggest that they had been there.
I know people have their ideas about who are these two conspirators, but, even though some guesses might be right, wrong, or somewhere in between, I can't say anything at all until the time is right ;)