Hello and welcome to one of my fastest updates for this story. Free time is an amazing gift. I did want this to come out on Saturday but time is a fickle thing. But, here it is at last.
And with that, I'll stop griping. Here's what you came for.
Enjoy.
When Lord Ephraim had requested for her help, Fir didn't realize it would come to this.
The Scourge Lord had come blazing through the woods atop his steed just before the vanguard was to march to the gates of Tellius. His sudden appearance, with his flowing sea-green hair and savage visage, shocked everyone in the unit, Fir included. And to further her surprise, he had come seeking aid. Or to be more specific, her aid.
Rather, it was him making good of the favor Fir had acquiesced to him upon their first meeting, on the way to the war council tent. She almost forgot she had actually said that in passing. A small voice in the back of her head was beginning to regret that she had offered such an unconditional deal.
After all, how was she supposed to know that Ephraim needed her help in kidnapping someone?
Their captive, now bound tightly, courtesy of Fir, still didn't move as she lay against the wooden planks of alleyway buildings. Lord Ephraim had subdued her so easily, it was like watching a grown adult beat down a mere child.
Actually, it was exactly just that.
The girl, still unconscious, looked even younger than Fir, who herself was just ripe into her own maidenhood. Her weight further proved her youth, Ephraim being able to carry the girl with just an arm as he scaled down the building Still, she knew that the two could take no chances. When Ephraim and Fir had made their way into Hearth, Fir was able to see the girl's colleague before he disappeared: the fabled dancing mercenary.
Fir didn't know the man's name but she heard tales of him, both on and off the battlefield. Genny made sure of it. He was an ex-Emblian field commander whose talent with blade could rival some of the finest in the Order. No one knew the reason as to why he abandoned his loyalty to Embla. One day he was among their finest duelists. The next, he became the masked mercenary that fought for neither side.
Fir had confirmed the reports too. In her free time, many moons ago, she had actually gone to one of the Order's debriefing assemblies, and past all the stuffy bureaucratic and political jargon, and overheard that three of Embla's field commanders had suddenly up and abandoned their posts, never to return. Captain Raven was acquainted with one of them, as he had served in the Emblian regiments before he turned his blade against them, but it wasn't the dancing swordsman. Instead, it was a woman with a temper next to none could hold a candle to. Her hair was as red as the fire that broiled her blood.
Apparently, that woman was the dancer's wife.
The third commander, a talented dark mage with a penchant for theatrics, had vanished altogether from Zenith. The dancer and the demon woman were at least seen together but the mage never made his presence known to anyone, may it be his compatriots or enemies.
Their true identities were still a mystery. All Genny had said was that they never revealed their true names to anyone. Broaching the subject made Fir's head spin. She was more comfortable with swinging a sword than she was swimming in the pool of her own thoughts. Uncle Karel had taught her the value of meditating whenever one could off the battlefield but she was but a mere novice at such a refined practice.
Still, no matter how green someone was, they could still control their breathing.
In, Fir quietly thought to herself, softening the pace of her lungs, out.
In, out.
It didn't help that there was still the unconscious body of a stranger in front of her.
She would practice with Roy the next time she got a chance.
"She's going to be fine." Ephraim said, as if to put Fir's thoughts at ease. "It was only enough force to keep her pacified until we figure out what to do."
Pacified? Fir felt that Ephraim's method was more geared towards obliterating targets rather than subduing them. The nasty welt on the poor girl's face was more than enough proof of that.
But the terrible scar that ran parallel to the injury foretold of much worse things the girl had been through.
How one could survive such a wound to somewhere so vital, Fir could only wonder.
"Here."
Ephraim's gruff voice pulled her away from mulling in her thoughts again. Looking up towards the Scourge Lord, Fir saw that he held a familiar object in his hands.
It was Roy's dagger, the one Matthew had given to him as a gift.
Roy said proudly that it was one of his prized possessions, after the sword and armor his father had left him.
He had told Fir that he spent an entire afternoon and evening scouring around Askr looking for it but came up with nothing. Why was it here with the mercenary girl?
"Marth was the one that had the dagger." Ephraim answered again, reading Fir's mind. "The mercenary here must have pilfered it off of him when his guard was down. Keep your guard up when she wakes up."
His response only further exacerbated her questions regarding the dagger but she saved them for later. Instead, Fir accepted the weapon graciously and gingerly tucked it away in her pouch.
"Your partner will be pleased to have that returned back to him." Ephraim added as he reexamined the knot he tied around the mercenary's legs. "So, try not to die."
Fir felt her ears grow hot. She could only guess at what Ephraim meant by "partner" but her relationship with Roy was no real secret at this point.
Originally, she was against making a big fuss out of her relationship with Roy but he insisted that several members ought to know, particularly Hector. The general was as happy as can be despite the turbulent days that surrounded them, happy as if Roy were his own son.
For Lord Eliwood was no longer here, much like her own father.
But Fir had to set aside these somber thoughts. Instinctively, she set her hand around the prized blade that rested at her side, gripping it tightly.
Their prisoner began to stir from her slumber.
Relia's head was still spinning, her vision blurry, her hearing muddied.
She reached for her face only to find her arms tightly bound to her back. The sting of the rope against her wrists instantly cleared the fog that clouded her head. She tried moving her legs only to find them in a similar state. Her pulse quickened.
She was trapped.
"You're finally awake."
It was the same voice she had heard before she was struck unconscious.
Relia's eyes darted around the dark alleyway, trying to find the owner of the coarse voice. Fighting through the darkness of the unlit alley, her eyes came to a halting stop when they encountered the crackling embers that dotted a shattered chestplate. Following the trail of cinders, Relia finally saw who the voice belonged to.
The flowing sea-green hair. The broken armor littered with the dying remnants of a fire. Those piercing eyes awash with vindictive grief.
They were unmistakable.
"So he's actually returned…" Relia muttered to herself. "… Scourge…"
Many of the Heroes that filled the ranks of the Order were all those stood out from the pages of history, but the Scourge Lord of Renais was a peculiar one. By all means, he should have fought for Embla, given his violent past and tendency to resort to ruthlessness. He was known for his sheer power at decimating entire brigades of soldiers alone with his fearsome, flaming lance. Even Inigo and Lady Luna were wary to steer clear from him. His very mention would strike fear into many a soldier's heart. Relia couldn't deny that herself.
But one day he had disappeared. That was many seasons ago. After the Battle of Lif, nobody from Embla and Askr alike knew where the lancer had gone. It was as if he had vanished from Zenith itself, leaving not a trace for even the most expert spymaster to follow.
The information network had spread that the Scourge had returned to Zenith and Relia felt stupid for ignoring the signs and whispers that came her way. The reports were obvious as day. No one man could dislodge an entire invasion force of Embla alone. But here she was, completely at the ruthless lancer's mercy, with no escape in sight.
While her face remained tight-lipped, an unmistakable sensation many would call dread had begun to spread to every recess in her body.
Still, a question lingered, one that prevented fear from overriding all of her senses.
Why hadn't he killed her yet?
If the Scourge's objective was to hunt down Emblians, or ex-Emblians in her case, why hadn't he, the man responsible for the deaths of the countless, killed her yet?
Did he not view her as a threat? If he had subdued her, an adept at nearly all forms of combat, with nothing but a single blow, then surely that would have been the case. But she was bound, unable to move freely. Why the precaution?
She had to find out what his motive was.
"Should I consider it an honor or insult that you haven't killed me yet?" She bluffed, putting on a braver front than what she truly felt. "Didn't think you of all people would be so afraid of me and need to tie me up."
Ephraim was unfazed.
"You're tied up to make sure you don't try anything stupid."
"Do I look like the type to do anything stupid?"
"Please!... Don't make this harder on yourself!"
A voice that didn't belong to either of them, and one Relia did not recognize, pierced the suffocating air.
From behind the Scourge Lord's broad shoulders, Relia could faintly make out the outline of person that stood there. Judging by the slim frame, and even in the dark, Relia knew it was that of woman. From the shadow's posture, the woman had her hand by her side, resting on the hilt of what only could have been a blade.
The woman stepped closer, close enough where the dim light of the town cast its light. Relia strained her eyes to make out the finer details she couldn't see before.
She was a female swordsman, with refined features to boot. Her long, lavender hair was neatly tied towards the back before sprawling wildly past her shoulders. She was obviously trained in the eastern arts given the way she behaved with her blade. The swordswoman was not much older than Relia, her youthful futures still yet to recede. And those youthful features were now contorted to be filled with concern.
Genuine concern.
"Please." The girl pleaded. "We only want to talk."
The bruise on her face began to ache.
She would have rubbed it if she could.
"I get the talking, but I don't see how knocking me out cold and binding me up qualifies as 'talking.'"
"It's for your own good." Ephraim snapped. "Lest you want to lose your arm."
Relia privately agreed that she'd rather keep both of her arms. She sighed.
"What does the Scourge Lord want with me personally that he graces me with his presence?"
Ephraim took a step forward, his armor crackling. He motioned an arm to the girl behind him. She must have quickly understood what he meant because she rummaged through the pouch she had slung on her side. After having found what she was looking for, the swordswoman tossed the object to Ephraim.
Catching the object with ease, Ephraim rested it against Relia's cheek. It was cold as ice.
And very sharp.
The girl involuntarily gasped and Relia had understood why after a moment.
A thin stream of blood had trickled its way down her cheek from the object had greeted her. Strangely enough, she felt no pain.
"Why did you have this?" Ephraim asked, ignorant of the wound he had inflicted.
"Can't see it from this angle." Relia retorted, her tone defiant. She wasn't sure how long she could keep up the act. She acted plenty of times in the past, but during none of those times was she ever filled with as much fear as she was now.
"Then would you like me to remove your eye so that you can?" Ephraim asked, his voice betraying nothing, the knife still held firmly in his hand.
"L-lord Ephraim… please." The girl begged.
As juvenile as the girl's attempt at stopping Ephraim was, it surprisingly worked. Ephraim closed his eyes for a moment before removing the sharp tip from Relia's face. She winced as the blade retreated from her cheek, allowing the evening air to greet her exposed, bleeding wound as more blood began to pour now that the knife no longer plugged it.
Ephraim held the sharp weapon mere inches away from her face. Even in the dark, she could make out exactly what was held before her. Ephraim asked her again, the knife seemingly closing in with every word.
"Where did you get this knife?"
She had little reason to deny the lancer an answer.
"I got it from a swordsman fellow, much like you." Relia answered, gesturing towards the girl. "Very mysterious one, that one."
Ephraim raised an eyebrow, the first change in expression Relia was able to see. Even though he said no further words, his eyes alone demanded that she continue her explanation.
She had no qualms in doing so.
"Short, wild hair and dons a mask" Relia began. "Thought it was for the festival but she's wearing it to hide her identity. And it looks oddly familiar to Ini—"
"She?" The girl asked, perplexed. "Aren't we talking about Marth?"
Relia clicked her tongue. Inigo did tell her to be wary of her word choice back in the bar. Marth's ruse was easy to uncover for anyone with a careful eye. The way she walked, carried herself, and stood her ground was undoubtedly that of a woman. Relia had pondered earlier as to why "Marth" would have to hide her identity but didn't think about it too deeply.
Everyone has secrets they keep from prying eyes.
"Anyway," Relia continued, before the conversation derailed. "Marth had business with my captain and the two haven't been seen since. I took the knife from Marth as they were drinking at the bar. That's all."
Ephraim stood up and whipped the blood off the knife with a clean stroke before handing it back to Fir.
"Where's your leader?"
Relia shook her head. "I don't know… Last time I saw them, they were—"
Then it hit Relia like a wall of bricks.
What the hell was she doing?
The memories of what she saw before being knocked out came flooding back to her.
The human traffickers.
The transaction.
The cloaked man's words: "More."
She had to find Inigo.
Hearth was in danger.
Ephraim must have noticed the change in her demeanor. Yet, he did nothing. He was still waiting for an explanation to which Relia had none.
She had no time to waste. But why was were mind in pieces? She knew what she needed to do and where she needed to be. But why couldn't she tell them that?
The binds around her arms and legs did little to alleviate her panicked mind. In fact, all they did was further exacerbate her pressed mind, the sharp pain of bound rope only dredging up painful memories of the past.
"Lord Ephraim!"
There, from the corner of her eye, Relia could make out the shimmering figure clad in white and blue armor that shone in the dark, poised gallantly against the more sinister-looking lancer.
Like a knight in shining armor.
"Prince Alfonse!" The girl exclaimed, dropping to a knee.
The crown prince of Askr? Relia thought to herself. What the hell is he doing here?
The prince rushed past the two and went straight to Relia. Kneeling beside her, he pulled out a gauze and fabric and held it against Relia's wound.
"Are you alright, milady?"
The prince's pure, blue eyes entered her own. A warm feeling flushed over Relia, the pain and panic that had coursed through her veins subsided, filling her with a gentle calm.
"Y—yes. I'm alright." She managed.
"I apologize for Lord Ephraim's demeanor." The Prince said. "He can be… rough."
Relia shook her head. "Been through worse."
Ephraim didn't kneel nor did he bow. He stood quietly, unperturbed at the prince's sudden arrival, an air defiance swirling about him.
"I—I'm sorry, milord." The girl, Fir, apologized, bowing. "I—I"
"Don't be. It was much easier to locate both of you this way."
A voice came from behind the prince. From the alley's shadows emerged a dashing man, clad in red hunting garb with golden locks.
With his elegant poise and sharp eyes, he was undoubtedly an archer. And if it weren't for the situation Relia's heart would be aflutter.
"Don't you have somewhere to be right now, Alfonse?" Ephraim asked, his voice deadpan.
"Indeed I do." Alfonse replied. "But after hearing the news, I feared the worst."
Relia could see Ephraim's eyes widen momentarily. "What news?"
"There was a festival taking place tonight in Hearth." The golden archer interrupted. "Perfect time for many unsuspecting people to gather together, unwary. Perfect time for brigands to seize their prey."
Alfonse nodded. "We figured that's where Marth and Genny may have been taken."
Relia recalled the trafficker's ringleader saying something about a cleric girl being taken as well. It seems the Order and its heroes knew how to do their homework.
"Have we figured out where they are located?" Ephraim asked, breaking his silence.
Jeorge nodded. "I did a bit of surveillance and saw a pooling of people around the southern side of the town. Armed guards are at every corner. Not the friendliest of company, which is a surefire sign that's where our M.O. is."
"Then we should head there soon!" Fir suggested. "If they are human traders, they will be making a trade soon. Time isn't something we can't afford to lose!"
"Someone is finally speaking my language," Relia muttered to herself.
"We can't just up and go and make our presence known to the whole world." Jeorge explained, shaking his head. "The brigands know the area much better than we do. Going about our business carelessly would be akin to sprouting a deathtrap and putting civilians in danger. That is something we cannot afford."
Relia's idea of them all storming the brigands soured.
All eyes, except Ephraim's, floated around, trying to find an answer apparently along the wooden walls of the alley buildings.
A sudden brilliant idea flashed in Relia's mind. One that would have probably made Lady Luna proud.
"Ahem. Can I interest in you fine fellows with a proposition?"
Alfonse looked perplexed and nearly dropped the cloth he held to her cheek. "What are you talking about, miss…"
"Relia."
"Yes, Miss Relia." Alfonse said, nodding apologetically. "What do you suggest?"
"You said you needed help from someone who knows the land well." Relia reasoned before flashing her most charming, and devilish, smile. "And I've got just the person for that."
The members of the Order exchanged glances. "Explain." Their voices, unison.
"How would you like to hire yourselves some mercenaries?"
END of CHAPTER