Caspar's foot lands in a hole at precisely the wrong moment.
He lets out a yell of pain and hits the ground seconds later. A metallic tang fills his mouth as sharp, fiery pain radiates up and down his leg. The hoofbeats of the Death Knight's horse shakes the ground around him and he knows that he's about to meet his maker. It's a bitter, disgusting feeling; he's not supposed to fall like this. He's supposed to go down in a blaze of glory in some ultimate match: not clutching his rapidly swelling knee and trying not to howl as an invisible lance wedges itself deeper into his flesh.
A shadow falls in front of him and he looks up to find Mercedes standing in front of him. He can't see her face from this angle, but he'd be willing to bet his whole salary for two, no, six moons that she's got that same determined expression on her face as when they'd started this whole mission.
"Mercie, you gotta get outta here." He tells Knight's glowing eyes fall on him. He can feel the weight of that heavy gaze even with her body positioned between them.
"That's enough, Emile." Mercedes' voice is shaky but stern. How many times had this same scenario played out when she and Emile had been children? How many times had she, or their mother, stood between them and a blow meant to injure or kill?
The weight lifts off of Caspar and settles on Mercedes instead. The killing intent hanging in the air diminishes to some extent. "Mercedes… leave."
"The hell?!" Caspar snaps. "She comes all this way and you're just going to tell her to leave?"
The ground beside Caspar splits and hisses. He resists the urge to yell and settles for moving his upper body just enough to glare at the armored bastard. Caspar's forgotten the fact he just told Mercedes to leave for her own safety too. "Seriously? She came here for you and that's all you've got to say for yourself?"
The horse prances uneasily in place and stills immediately at the touch of the scythe's shaft against its flank. "This doesn't concern you."
"Like hell it doesn't!"
"Caspar, please…" Mercedes tries to interject.
He's having none of it and slams one fist into the ground. "You're her brother, right? You've really got nothin' nice to say to her after all this time?"
What is with this guy? It's like I'm chopped liver or something. Caspar wonders as Death Knight returns his attention to Mercedes as though he's not even there.
"Leave. Do not return…" He tells her again. The distortion from the creepy helmet makes it sound even more threatening than it should be. The scythe gleams in a stray sunbeam as he aims its keen edge at his sister's throat. To her credit and his dismay, she pales at the threat but holds her ground with her chin lifted in stubborn defiance.
These were not the opponents he anticipated. These were not the ones he expected to spill blood and litter their bodies like grotesque trophies to spread his legacy and name, to lure her out into his trap so that their dance can truly begin. A test, perhaps, to prove his loyalty to those who hide and slink in the shadows. The Emperor should have allowed him to kill them when he offered the last time; this matter could have been settled long ago and a proper war allowed to follow in its wake.
"Emile, please." She speaks again, pleading with him to return with her. "I'm so sorry… I should have come for you sooner. I'm sure it wasn't pleasant living in House Bartels."
It had not been. But the events that transpired back then are of little concern for him; that problem has long been taken care of and neither she nor their mother will ever face the cruelties that abomination in human form had in mind. It took a monster to kill another monster and it was a role he embraced with open arms.
"You will die." He tells her. Factual. No emotion discernible thanks to the helmet. It is there, beneath it all, and he does not wish for hers to be among the bodies he leaves in his wake. Not now, anyway. Not by the hands of another either.
Should she continue to defy him, to insist upon standing opposite him in this war? He will have no choice; he will kill her and he will do so in such a manner that she knows nothing of pain or fear. She will know, of course, that he is the one who has slain her and that is the last gift he will give her.
"The hell she will!"
"Be silent." The blue haired fighter is giving him a headache. Why must she always be accompanied by such annoying insects? Always buzzing and chattering and making such a racket…
Mercedes shakes her head. Gentle sorrow mingles with determination in her sweet face. "Even if I die, I've made my choice." She offers a hand to him. We can… we can go back to Mother even. Together. I'm sure she longs to see you, as I have all these years."
It's the longest minute of Caspar's life as the Death Knight stares at Mercedes' outstretched hand. He's either trying to decide if he should accept his supposed older sister's offer or he's getting ready to swing that scythe and cut her in half. It's an ugly thought and an uglier mental image still. His armor is starting to pinch where his knee has swollen up far beyond what it should have. He's going to need a serious heal and probably one of the vulnerary Mercedes has on her on top of it before he'll be anywhere near battle ready shape.
"I cannot." The two words are damning and he can see the way her shoulders hunch ever-so-slightly.
Even still, downed as he is, Caspar's fingers tighten over a small hand axe he strapped against the small of his back. That damn counterattack is going to hurt, if not kill him, but damn it if he's going to just sit there and let Mercedes die protecting him.
The scythe swings, the axe blade catches on the loop he's had it on and doesn't come away in hand. Caspar yells something profane and utterly inappropriate in his desperate attempt to do something to prevent what's coming.
An arrow soars past with a whistle and slams home into the horse's hindquarter.
It shrieks and rears up, its rider forced to drop the scythe mid-swing in order to keep from being thrown. One hand flies out and a nigh-invisible force roars forth from his outstretched palm to slam into the assailant's shoulder. Caspar hears the yell of pain and hisses as he tries to twist and see who'd arrived in the nick of time. He can't think of many archers off the top of his head and hopes it's someone who can actually take this guy out.
Ignatz!
Ignatz's arm hangs limply at his side and his free hand holds the injured limb tightly. The bow lies broken against the ground and the bespectacled sniper's face is grey-white with pain. He sees the look on Caspar's face and tries to give him a brave smile that falls pretty flat, all things considered. He's bought just enough time, however, and there's a crash of movement in the thickets behind him before Hilda and, moments later, Lysithea join their house mate.
"How annoying." Death Knight's voice shakes the small clearing around them with his fury. The horse is back under control. The scythe lifts from the ground and returns to his hand with another pulse of power.
"You can say that again." Lysithea retorts. Her eyes take on an eerie glow and black-purple fire erupts at her feet. The gold trim against the young mage's dress flutters against her legs as her body lifts from the ground entirely. Her mood goes from sour to utterly acrimonious in seconds as the light from the Gloucester Crest illuminates her from behind.
Gritting her teeth, Lysithea focuses on channeling the power in her body into the spell around her. She can curse the Crests later- and will with words that the rest of the Alliance pretend she doesn't know- after she's taken care of the Death Knight. She forces herself upright, head lifted high, arms and palms stretching heavenward, and feels the magic drain from her body and into bright purple elongated lances of pure magical might.
She sees the scythe swing up again and calls out to the armored foe. "Hey!"
Death Knight, as well as Mercedes, Ignatz, and Caspar look in her direction. Power blasts past her, a mostly missed strike from Death Knight that leaves a weeping cut against her cheek. He either missed intentionally to intimidate her, or her own magical power negated the majority of whatever it was he just tried to pull.
"Stay away from my friends!" She snaps and throws her hands his way.
The lances shoot forward like arrows fired from Ignatz's bow and slam down into the knight's body. His steed crumples beneath him, body pierced through, and pitches him off with a heavy clatter of hissing, steaming metal hitting the ground. There's a bellow of pain and fury as he falls that gives her little in the way of satisfaction.
"I did not expect one such as you." The helm has broken away to reveal a flash of hair the same soft shade as Mercedes' own and a cold steel blue eye.
"You underestimated me just like the rest of your little group." Lysithea replies tartly and focuses on evening out her breathing. "And just like them, you know what happens. You just lived through it."
Every cell in her body is simultaneously singing and on fire and it's really hard to take in a full breath without upsetting her body's balancing act. She can't afford to waste more time with someone who either has a death wish or a love of murder or both; they have to either capture him, kill him, or drive him off. She doesn't really care which at the moment so long as the task is done and they can get back to the others.
More magic pours into her battered body and she hisses at the intrusion even as the cool light acts as a balm to both outer and inner wounds. No matter how much healing magic is used on her, it's only a temporary measure for something that continues to kill little by little as time passes on. She's not ungrateful for it, far from it, any reprieve from pain is a welcome one… but this is not the time or the place for sentimentality.
Death Knight's visible eye narrows as it lingers briefly on her hair. "You…"
"What about me?"
His eye narrows further as he turns his eyes from her. "It is of no importance."
"Emile, please. Let's go home." Mercedes interrupts before Lysithea can offer a blistering retort in return. "We won, isn't that how it works? To the victor, um…"
"To the victor go the spoils." Hilda supplies helpfully. "Though, Mercie, I really don't think that applies in this situation."
A pause. "Is the Death Knight really your brother?"
Mercedes is nothing if not confident.
"Yes."
"..."
Even Lysithea looks surprised at the lack of denial from the Death Knight. "It's done then, we've accomplished our mission and can take him back with us."
"No." He replies.
"Uhh, hello? We beat you. You're hurt. We won, that's how that works." Caspar retorts. "So apologize to Mercie for threatening and trying to kill her."
"I would not have to try." Agitation in the man's voice. The thought of killing her brings two separate and conflicting emotions to the table and he has no time to deal with either of them. He seems to be listening for something and finds, with grim satisfaction, that he hears no echoes of the living other than the rabble around him. Noisy children, all of them but for Mercedes.
Lysithea braces for the pain as she walks over and tends to Ignatz's wounds. He winces as the healing light races through and repairs torn flesh, tendon, and cracked bone. It's sore as sore can be by the time she is finished, but he can use his arm and shoulder again.
"Why can't you go with us?"
He is silent for far longer than any of them are comfortable. Ignatz and Hilda position themselves accordingly in case of an ambush. Caspar gives Lysithea a wide grin as she heals his injuries too. It's not perfect by any means and man does it hurt like hellfire to put weight on, but he's back in action and can protect them all now.
"Orders." Death Knight- Emile, as Mercedes calls him- finally responds. His attention focuses back on Caspar as he gives the one word explanation.
Caspar gives him a blank look. "Orders? I don't know anything about your ord- oh." It clicks a little too late for him to take back. Hubert's specific directions when they engaged the Death Knight and what he was supposed to help them do.
Aw man, I totally forgot. Hubert's gonna kill me.
A pause, the others are about to drill him for answers, and Caspar hefts his battleaxe back into position and cheerfully brings it down on the Death Knight's shoulder.
Now he remembers what Dorothea and Hubert had told him before they'd split off; it's embarrassing, but he'd gotten a little too excited about the idea of fighting Death Knight and forgot all about the real reason he'd been assigned with Mercie, Hilda, and the rest of the Alliance members there. He yells as the Death Knight retaliates in kind and finds himself flying back into a copse of trees behind him with a thud of impact.
Bastard hit him harder on purpose just because he could, Caspar just knows it and hits him again with the throwing axe he couldn't manage to get loose earlier.
Lysithea is caught off-guard as a result as he utilizes Caspar's throwing axe to redirect his counter to the powerful mage. She goes flying into a thicket with a most undignified shriek. Hilda is not far behind her and Caspar winces when her shoulder clips a low hanging branch.
Ignatz gets the worst of it, again, and actually slumps in a worrying way after his skull smacks sharply into a tree trunk.
Mercedes' gown whips around her ankles as she clasps her hands before her in prayer. Red lines flare to life in a circle around her body. Her eyes are open and remain on the downed form of her younger brother. "Emile… please, fight on our side instead." She pleads with him one more time. She knows she can get through to him, truly, she does. That's her little brother and even now when he shouldn't hesitate and cut her down… the sweet boy she's always known is still in there.
"I cannot." He tells her again, same as he had earlier.
Please don't make me do this. Don't make me… Mercedes follows the movement of his hands, bracing herself to strike him down should he attack, and watches him lift and open one hand to show her what lay within.
"Take this and go."
A chain of blue gemstones and gold beads decorate an elaborate necklace with a large, heavy pendant in the shape of an upside down crescent moon. The bright, vibrant colors of the pendant contrast sharply with the night-black armor that covers him from head to toe. At its heart, the red-and-ivory sphere of a Crest Stone glows faintly in response to her touch as she accepts the offering with one hand.
The Rafail Gem; House Lamine's familial Relic passed down through the centuries.
It takes quite a bit for her to maintain the concentration on the spell she has waiting to unleash and accept the necklace. "This is… a Hero's Relic?" She looks from the sacred artifact back to her brother. "You and I must share the same Crest, but that means-."
"When we next meet, I will kill you without hesitation." He informs her. She teceives this warning and this one alone. He has done all he can to keep her from harm's way and she has made her decision abundantly clear. He cannot and will not grant her another reprieve the next they meet upon opposing sides of the battlefield.
He watches the hurt flash across her face. Hurt that dissolves all too quickly into defiant determination and silent strength she has always, always been known for. Even in their childhood, she was the strongest of them all.
Mercedes lifts the necklace up for him to see. "You won't kill me," she assures him. "I have this now."
"Hmph." He picks himself up from the ground, leaning heavily on the scythe for a long moment before eyeing it disdainfully and casting it in Caspar's direction. He has no need of a flawed, faulty weapon such as that. There are new ones, ones that have not yet bathed in the blood of battle, that await him back at the barracks that are more suited to his use.
It is a weakness, he tells himself, to look back at his sister once more. To see her clutching the Relic to her chest and the flickering embers at her feet a hint at the spell she has prepared to use against him… and the loneliness on her face as she watches him leave… it brings about an ache in his head and chest that he finds troublesome.
"Do not die until I can kill you." He tells her as he disappears into the shadows and out of her sight.
Mercedes watches him go, his back straight and proud and stubborn as her own, and feels the jagged stones threaten to pierce her flesh with the grip she has on the Relic. She releases the hold she has on both the necklace and the spell with a deep breath out. The magic buzzes angrily about, restless and wanting to be used, and gradually fizzles out into a hiss of steam and scorched grass at her feet.
Lysithea has picked her way out of the thicket and has all manner of leaves and bits of twigs sticking out every which way from her long white hair. Hilda is complaining, loudly, that for a Knight, Mercedes' brother sure doesn't know how to treat a delicate lady. Caspar himself is just… thinking, she can see, where he's landed.
Orders… Mercedes thinks to herself as she goes over to check on Ignatz first and foremost. Her hand is warm against his cool skin and she finds a pulse easily. She finds the knot against his skull even easier still and focuses her magic into his body to heal the injuries her brother has caused. Emile had said something about his orders and they may very well be connected to Caspar's own.
It would be a pity if Caspar were an enemy, she rather likes the rambunctious boy and his enthusiasm.
"Oh dear." She murmurs as Lysithea spots him first and stalks over with her palms full of dark fire. "Ignatz, dear, are you awake? I'm afraid I need to prevent Lysithea from-"
"Slaying Caspar?" Ignatz replies with a wince as he reaches up to press against his throbbing skull. "Please, no need to linger. I can handle it from here."
Hilda drops down next to him a handful of seconds later and winces as she takes a page from her brother's book and resets her dislocated shoulder with a nauseating pop. "Ugh, it sucks having to realign your shoulder back into place. And you have to be careful or it might pop out again." She watches Mercedes hurry over to where Lysithea is reading Caspar some sort of lecture she's probably memorized from their time at the Academy.
"How… do you know that, Hilda?" Ignatz asks, looking a little queasy. His eyes scan her for any other injuries. Nothing but some scratches here and there, Hilda's always been tougher than she tends to portray herself as. He's seen her step on a broken piece of pottery and only hiss in annoyance.
Of course, that was because she'd thought no one had been around to see her...
"My brother." She replies with a yawn and bumps his uninjured shoulder with her own as she settles next to him. Her eyes are on the two shorties of the group as Caspar holds up both hands in an attempt to ward Lysithea off and Mercedes does her best to try and stand between them. "So. What's your thoughts on Caspar?"
"Well…" He watches the first bolt of black-purple energy explode something above Caspar's head. "Good intentions, poor execution in whatever orders he was given."
She smiles. "Not an enemy or spy for the Empire?"
He gives her a sidelong glance. "...w-well…"
"I don't think so either." The smile widens at both his hesitation as well as the frantic yell from Caspar as Lysithea ducks under Mercedes' arm. The youngest member of their class was floating in the air with her magic swirling around her body and has continued chasing the fighter down. Chunks of sod blast into the air and fall like dirty rain with every intentionally missed strike from the young mage.
"For obvious reasons." Hilda adds as she watches the fiasco unfold.
Claude was going to be so sad he missed this.