Gangrel stood in his throne room and watched as High Inquisitor Aversa and dozens of her Inquisitors walked into the palace. The palace guards, all clad in heavy blue and gold armor with the Mark of Grima engraved on it, bowed before Aversa as she walked by. Along one side of the throne room were Gangrel's Enforcers and officers. They did not bow to Aversa or her Inquisitors. As Aversa walked by, her Inquisitors broke off one by one and took positions opposite of the Enforcers at the other end of the room. By the time Aversa reached Gangrel, there were two lines of Grimleal agents on the two ends of the room. They leered and glared at each other.
The mood between Gangrel and Aversa themselves wasn't much better. Gangrel gave an incredibly feigned smile as Aversa stepped towards him and bowed. "High Inquisitor! How nice of you to come down from High Point."
"Emperor! How nice to see you wearing your official attire, instead of that dreadful thing you pieced together from people who died thirty years ago."
"I am in no mood for this, woman!"
"Whereas I just love to spend time with you." Aversa said sarcastically.
"You're the one who came here!"
"The Fell Dragon ordered me to come here. It refused to speak with me at High Point. It wanted to talk to us both."
Gangrel looked Aversa up and down. She hadn't appeared to have aged a day in thirty years, but he knew very well that it was fake. Nothing about Aversa could be taken at face value. "You of all people criticize my appearance? I can always take off my outfit, but you're stuck casting illusions on yourself to make your appearance bearable."
Aversa gave a fake smile of her own. "Oh sweetie. We proved long ago that you just aren't capable of being my intellectual sounding board, but I appreciate your attempt at a battle of wits."
"Why don't you just go back to playing with dark magic with your Inquisitors. Leave the actual ruling and governing of humanity to me. After all, I was the King of Plegia. You were just a sycophantic cultist."
"The Fell Dragon appreciates my loyalty. You're just a puppet ruler. Now why don't you go back to doing nothing until someone pulls on your strings, like a good puppet."
"Don't talk to me like that, woman!"
"You think I want to spend time with you?"
Gangrel shoved Aversa, and Aversa shoved him back. The two looked at each other for a few seconds before trying to tackle each other to the ground. At the sight of their leaders fighting, the throne room rapidly devolved into an all out brawl as Aversa's Inquisitors and Gangrel's Enforcers went at each other, relieving workplace stress in the most violent way possible. The Grimleal members had just enough sense to avoid pulling out their weapons, for if they did the royal guard would descend on them. So long as everyone only used their fists, the royal guardsmen couldn't be bothered to lift a finger. They stood unmoving in dissonant silence as the other Grimleal members around them threw down like bar patrons. It was a bewildering sight. The throne room was ornately decorated with the finest luxuries available, and its dedicated guardsmen stood disciplined and still, yet the government agents inside acted like they were in a slum riot. Gangrel's Enforcers and Aversa's Inquisitors got along with each other about as well as their leaders did, and the two organizations took jabs at each other whenever they could. Sometimes they actively sabotaged each other. Sometimes they withheld resources and information from each other. Sometimes they just settled things with their fists. The Enforcers and Inquisitors punched each other, kicked each other, poked eyes, threw things, put each other in armlocks and chokeholds, tore clothing, pulled hair, gave wet willies, called names, insulted parents, wives, husbands, and children, and generally behaved like kids yet to learn sportsmanship. The leaders of the human race and the representatives of the Fell Dragon itself squabbled and bickered like children really, and at the center of it all were Gangrel and Aversa themselves. Gangrel had Aversa in a headlock and was forcibly rubbing his knuckles along the top of her head when the Anointed Ones entered the throne room. As soon as they did, Gangrel and Aversa stopped fighting and straightened themselves out. The other members of the Grimleal soon followed suit. By the time all the Anointed Ones were in the room, no one was moving.
The Anointed Ones were men and women who had given their lives to caring for the Hierophant. The Hierophant was Grima's body. The Fell Dragon would possess it whenever it needed to talk to human members of the Grimleal. At all other times the Hierophant was unconscious, and so his every need had to be tended to. This was the task of the Anointed Ones. They fed the Hierophant, cleaned him, tended to his waste, massaged him, and applied a number of magical rituals to reduce the effects of aging.
The Anointed Ones carried the Hierophant in a casket plated with solid gold, and they silently carried this casket all the way to the steps of the throne room. They opened the casket and carefully lifted the Hierophant's inanimate body out of it. The Hierophant was completely naked. The care he had received from the Anointed Ones kept the Hierophant's body in good shape, but it was still starting to show signs of aging. The man had very pale skin and stark white hair. Gangrel and Aversa recoiled at the sight of the Hierophant. Though they had seen him many times, they could never get used to the sight of him. They had once known the man before he became the Hierophant. Back then his hair was still white, but he was young and lively. He had once been their enemy. He had once fought against the Grimleal. He was once something they hated, something they feared. He was once a man that had fought to stop the Fell Dragon. Gangrel and Aversa once knew him as Robin.
Robin was the child of Validar, the former leader of the Grimleal. He had been born to be the Hierophant. It was his destiny to be Grima's body, but Robin's mother took him away. Robin became the tactician of the Shepherds. He fought against both Gangrel and Aversa, and he won countless victories for them. He even married and had two children. He tried his damndest to escape from his destiny, but in the end the will of a single human could not resist the Fell Dragon. When the Shepherds fell, Robin was found injured but alive. The Grimleal broke him until he became the Hierophant willingly, and helped to bring about the end of the "Human Regime". Gangrel and Aversa had once hated him, but they were still sickened every time they saw him now. No one could deserve this.
The Anointed Ones slowly lowered the Hierophant to the ground, and then immediately bowed. Everyone else in the throne room, Gangrel and Aversa included, soon followed. Purple energy began to circle around the Hierophant, and six glowing blood red eyes appeared above his face. The Hierophant's body was covered by strange plate armor that seemed to materialize from the purple energy. It was pitch black, yet had a noticeable purple sheen, and had spikes randomly and chaotically protruding it. It looked beyond anything a human metallurgist could ever make. The Hierophant began to hover off the ground until he was standing on his feet. At this point he was fully armored, and the six glowing eyes dominated his face. Whatever remained of Robin's consciousness was now gone. Grima had possessed its human vessel.
"Lord Grima." Gangrel and Aversa both said.
Grima looked down on them. "Get up." Its inhuman voice stated in a dismissive tone. Gangrel and Aversa slowly rose to their feet, both trying as hard as they could to contain their trepidation. It was virtually impossible to tell how Grima was feeling behind those six glowing eyes, and Gangrel and Aversa tended to assume that it was always angry. "Why does Chrom still live?" Grima's voice reverberated through the throne room, shaking the foundation itself.
"He's still… you mean the assassin…" Gangrel tried to think of a way out. "Why… why does it matter? He's just one man." Gangrel winced, knowing even as he said them that those weren't the right words. Grima stared intently at Gangrel, and he suddenly found blood running from his nose.
"DO NOT QUESTION ME!" The entire throne room briefly shook, and blood surged out of Gangrel's nose. He tried to cover it and nodded sheepishly.
"S-sorry! I'm sorry!"
"Chrom can wield the Falchion. He can kill me! This is my world. I will not allow the spawn of the Hero King to run around in my world. There is also another. A woman named Ophelia. She can wield the Falchion. She could kill me."
Aversa stood up straight. "Lord Grima, with all due respect, what are the odds?"
"Your primitive and bestial grasp at intelligence cannot begin to understand what I see. I have peered into other timelines. I have seen Chrom or his accursed daughter slay me with the Falchion. I will not allow this possibility to exist in this timeline. When you two negotiated humanity's surrender, you told me that humanity would never get in my way." Grima took a step forward, and Gangrel and Aversa scurried backwards. "You're getting in my way."
Gangrel briefly turned his handmaiden, the same woman that tended to his young daughter, finding her cowering behind a royal guard. He frantically gestured for some water, and the woman hurried away. Gangrel turned back to Grima and gave a sheepish smile. "Uh, well… I'll take care of it! I'll kill him! I will!"
"If you don't, I will reflect on my decision to spare what remains of your kind. You will be the emperor of nothing!" Grima then turned to Aversa. "You! I want you to focus more resources on Project: Xenologue. I know your forces constantly bicker with Gangrel's forces. They're wasting time! You're wasting my time!"
Aversa took deep breaths and tried her best to stay dignified. "Of course, Lord Grima."
Gangrel's handmaiden returned with two glasses of water. She handed one to Gangrel, but tripped as she tried to hand the other glass to Aversa, spraying water all over Grima. For a moment everyone in the palace froze in horror. Grima briefly looked down at the water on the Hierophant's body, then turned to the handmaiden. It grabbed her by the throat, lifted her well off of her feet, and then slammed her into the palace floor with such force that it shattered. She didn't move again after that. Grima then turned to Gangrel and Aversa, who were wide eyed and completely unmoving. Grima nodded its head, and the two suddenly fell over in agony. They ran their hands through their hair as a sharp pain appeared in their heads, and blood poured from their ears, eyes, noses, and mouths. "YOU TWO WASTE MY TIME!"
Grima's every word caused a small earthquake, and several people in the room were knocked from their feet. Gangrel and Aversa spasmed uncontrollably, and at this point they were soaked in their own blood. "We're sorry! We're sorry!" Gangrel cried out.
"My will be done!" Grima extended its arms to the side, and once more the Hierophant was surrounded by purple energy. The armor disappeared, and the six glowing eyes disappeared from his face. The swirling mass of energy circled the Hierophant until he was naked, and the body fell limp and unmoving. The Anointed Ones were there to catch him before he hit the floor, and they carefully lifted him up and placed him back in the casket. Gangrel and Aversa slowly rose to their feet and wiped the blood off their faces as they left. Aversa turned and shoved Gangrel.
"You idiot! This is all your fault! We should have hunted down Chrom thirty years ago, but no! You were too busy taking trophies off the bodies!"
"What are you mad about, woman! I'm the one who has to find a new handmaiden." Gangrel turned around to find his attendant loyally standing by him.
"Is there anything you need, milord?"
"Yes. Bring me a handkerchief, and a new pair of pants."
"Of course, milord."
"Bring High Inquisitor Aversa nothing. Absolutely nothing."
"Of course, milord."
"Finally, mobilize my chief enforcer."
The attendant's stoic face was briefly taken by shock. "Your chief enforcer!"
"Yes. No more assassins. I'm doing playing games. I want a professional to handle this."
In a chamber deep beneath Gangrel's throne room, two men stood looking down on a young woman. The woman was forcibly restrained to a chair, and she desperately struggled against her bonds. The younger of the men circled her. The elder stood to the side, carefully watching everything.
"ASCENSION." The man circling the young woman yelled at her. "WISTFULLY. AERONAUTICAL." The woman violently convulsed, whipping her long, navy blue hair around as she did so, and roared at the top of her lungs. The man didn't stop. "KYMATOLOGY. ECDEMOMANIA. NIDIFUGOUS." The woman finally stopped spasming at this point, but she didn't stop screaming. Her cries became a long, unbroken wail, reminiscent of a banshee. Still the man didn't stop. "INTUSSUSCEPTION. NECROSIS. GARRISON."
The woman immediately fell silent and stared at her feet. The man slowly stepped in front of her. "Good morning, comrade." The woman quickly looked up at him.
"E-13 is ready for compliance."
The younger man stepped aside and the older man quickly knelt in front of the woman. He held out his finger. "E-13, look at me. Look at daddy. Look at me." The woman slowly brought her eyes to the man. "Look at my finger." The man moved his finger around, and the woman followed it with her eyes. The man stood up and turned to his assistant. "She's as ready as she'll ever be. Undo the restraints." The man walked towards the door at the end of the room and nodded towards a royal guard standing to the side. The guard nodded back and walked through the door. The man straightened his long white robes and stood erect as the guard returned with a man that had been waiting outside. The man was wearing a rudimentary black suit of tactical gear fashioned from leather and segmented plate armor over black mage robes, and his face was obscured by a mask reminiscent of a skull. The man didn't seem to have arms. Instead prosthetics were attached to him at the shoulders. The prosthetics were very loose approximations of human arms, but he had no hands. The prosthetics ended in large gauntlets like the end of a warhammer. The gauntlets were attached to the arms through sockets, and it was possible that they could be traded for more convenient substitutions of the human hand, but the man couldn't be sure. The prosthetic arms weren't solid constructions. Rather, the different pieces of the arms were held together by swirling bands of dark magic. It was like nothing the man had ever seen. The armored man seemed to notice the attention paid to his prosthetics, and he responded with a harsh glare. The man steeled himself and looked his visitor in the eye. "Hello. My name is Dr. Kryczek. The Reaver program is my brainchild. I developed the neural conditioning necessary to turn violent criminals and political prisoners into loyal soldiers."
"So you're the reason why they'll do anything you ask them to?" The man responded in a brutish and raspy voice.
"Yes."
"Neat." The man extended his armored gauntlet. "My name is Courtney."
"Am I… am I expected to-"
"Just shake my damn gauntlet!"
Reluctantly Kryczek shook Courtney's prosthetic arm. "Courtney? I know that name. You were a Lord Lieutenant right?"
"I was. Then I lost my power base. They made me part of The Rockpile, but I lost that job too."
"What happened?"
"Chrom and his sad little harem happened. They took away my face, then my arms."
"They cut off your arms?"
"You try falling off a mountain and see if you still have all your limbs. Anyways, they gave me a psychological evaluation afterwards. They told me I hated them too much. They told me I wasn't stable. They told me I wasn't eligible to be a regular officer anymore, but they said I'd be perfect for this job."
"So you're operations commander because you hate them so much?"
"Now you're getting it."
Kryczek rolled his eyes and ran his hand along his frazzled beard, a beard that had turned gray from stress long before age could take its toll. "Of course they had to send a brute."
"Just point me at my newest toy."
"She's not a toy! She's my life's work. Follow me." Kryczek scurried down the hall, and Courtney slowly rumbled behind him. Kryczek stopped by the woman. Her restraints had been undone, but she still sat in the chair, patiently waiting for instruction. Kryczek turned to her. "E-13 darling, allow me to introduce you to the operations commander of your next assignment. This man is named Courtney." Courtney stood over the woman, and when she stood up she barely went up to the top of his chest.
"This… this is Gangrel's chief enforcer? This is the woman who killed so many people? I thought she'd be taller? She's a little girl!"
"I assure you she is capable of this mission."
"You know, there's something on her eye. On her left eye there's some kind of…" Courtney leaned in and got very close to the woman. She didn't so much as flinch. Courtney stared at the woman's left eye until he could make out a very distinctive brand on it. The Mark of Naga. Courtney jumped almost a meter backwards. "Gah! This… this is… THIS IS-"
"Quiet! I know who she reminds you of, but I assure you she is not that woman. Lucina is dead. E-13 is a symbol of the new world order."
"How… how is this possible?!"
"When the Shepherds fell, their infant children were taken by the Grimleal. I experimented on them to develop the neural conditioning for the Reaver program, and they became the first Reavers. Gangrel wanted Chrom's infant daughter to be his personal enforcer, however. I've worked with E-13 since she was an infant. I turned her into the greatest warrior in the world."
"Gangrel really is a sick bastard isn't he?!"
"I could report you for that comment, but I'd rather get to work."
"What does E-13 mean?"
"Experiment number thirteen."
"What were the other experiments?"
"That's classified."
Courtney sighed. "Of course it is."
Kryczek inspected E-13, who had been standing perfectly still the entire time. "Allow me to personally protest her deployment on this assignment. She just isn't ready. She is far more powerful than any other Reaver, but her conditioning isn't perfect. She follows orders without question, and she kills with unparalleled efficiency and brilliancy, but she's dangerous. She flies into blood rages where she'll kill anything she sees. I've seen her kill civilians."
"Collateral damage."
"I've seen her kill Grimleal soldiers!"
"They're just Reavers."
"I've seen her continue to fight ever after being covered in injuries!"
"Ooh. She's tougher than she looks."
"She's not ready!"
"I don't care. Gangrel personally requested her. Besides, I only need her to kill. She can do that right?"
"Well… yes, but-"
Courtney looked at E-13. "You and I are going to have a lot of fun together, girl."
"Ready for compliance."
"Is that all she can say?"
"She only has a few predetermined responses."
"Hey girl, how do you feel about the weather?"
"Ready for compliance."
"Do you like to go dancing?"
"Ready for compliance."
"How do you feel about current events?"
"Hail, Grima."
"Well that gets old."
Kryczek stepped in between E-13 and Courtney. "Well you don't need to talk to her! She's not your servant. She's Gangrel's chief enforcer. You are in charge of this operation, but you do not own her!"
"Whatever. She'll do whatever I say right?"
"She'll do whatever I say. I'm the only one she'll listen to."
"Fair enough. Get your tactical gear, doc. We're leaving." Courtney pushed Kryczek out of the way and looked at E-13. "This is what's going to happen, girl. I'm going to take you to see a man you haven't seen in a very, very long time, and together we're going to kill him."
"Ready for compliance."
"I like her already."