Though most of the Ylissean continent was now covered in desert or badlands as a result of Grima's blight, there was a notable desert in Regna Ferox that had existed for millennia. This was Mamorthod, a desert that stretched for kilometers over Ferox. It was common knowledge that this was once the site of the ancient city state of Thabes. Thabes had been gone for centuries even back in the Hero King's time, and now it had been millennia since the city was inhabited. No records of the city had been available even centuries ago, and now the city was only known in legend. It was said that Thabes was a highly advanced civilization, and it possessed technology so beyond current understanding that some of it had yet to be rediscovered. For ages treasure hunters had attempted to find riches in the ruins, and everything that could be recovered easily had long since disappeared. By the time the First Exalt had created the Halidom of Ylisse, the desert was completely abandoned. A few brave and foolish treasure hunters would occasionally try to uncover treasures deeper in the ruins, but for the most part people left the area alone.
When the Fell Dragon took over the world, it ordered the Grimleal to reinhabit the area. Now the entire desert was under heavy lockdown, with the Grimleal 1st army dedicated to patrolling the sands and warding off intruders. Every major landmark in the area, from the Thabes Labyrinth to the Ruins of Time, now featured a Grimleal garrison. No one, not even Gangrel or Aversa, had any idea why, but Grima insisted on controlling these territories.
As strategically unimportant as most of the area was, there was one structure that had since been made practical. The Tower Of Thabes was an ancient edifice that rose from the dunes to the north of Marmorthod. There hadn't been anything there for millennia, but the Grimleal had since made it their headquarters in the region. Because the area was only inhabited on Grima's orders, and because the Fell Dragon refused to tell any of its followers why, the Grimleal had taken to calling it Camp Faith. In other words, you needed faith in Grima to think that being there wasn't a complete waste of time.
Inquisitor Thomas made her way through the tower's narrow and quiet halls as she prepared to deliver her report to Aversa. At first glance, Thomas looked like little more than a relatively well off peasant woman. At the sight of the bow slung across her back, one might think her a mercenary or hunter. No one would guess that she was an Inquisitor, but she was not only that. She was one of five members of Aversa's inner circle, making her one of the highest ranking Grimleal agents in the world. She looked nothing like anyone of comparable rank, mainly because she didn't wear robes typical of dark mages, and also because she didn't look like an evil stereotype. Thomas was of slightly below average height. Other than a bit of muscle in her arms from using her bow, she didn't look imposing in the slightest. She had curly, almost white blonde hair that flowed down to her shoulders. Her soft blue eyes accentuated her naturally warm and friendly features. She looked inviting and easily approachable, even while holding her face in a cocky expression. At her rank Thomas could have any clothing she wanted, but she chose simple trappings. Other than a bit of leather armor on her chest, she looked little different from a farmhand. Her clothes were notably masculine, and Thomas had a disdain for female fashion in general.
The Grimleal that ruled over the world now was like the Grimleal that had worked to resurrect Grima in name only. The previous Grimleal had been a cult. It revolved entirely around a single leader, and members all had a religious devotion to Grima. They fully believed in their cause, and most members had been born into the organization. A handful of members worked primarily for self gain, but most cared only about resurrecting their master. The modern Grimleal was a government more than anything else. Grima itself had ultimate authority, but day to day affairs were managed by Gangrel and Aversa. The two frequently bickered and quarreled, and they shared a unified vision only when the Fell Dragon forced them to. The members of the modern Grimleal were all outsiders that had joined, and their motivations varied wildly. Unlike the old Grimleal, a few members joined out of genuine devotion to the Fell Dragon, but the vast majority joined out of self gain. Many Grimleal agents saw the organization as a way to achieve wealth and power. They didn't particularly care about Grima's goals. They just wanted to be with the people in charge.
But there were also many other reasons why one would join the Grimleal. Some joined simply because the Grimleal was the government. Throughout human history, people have always felt a desire to be in the military or law enforcement. It's the job, not the flag, that they care about. They join the Grimleal simply because it's the authority, and they'd just as readily have joined the militaries of Ylisse, Plegia, and Ferox if they'd been born a few decades earlier. Others joined for the economic benefits. Some had little direction in life, and saw little else to do. Some believed it to be an adventure. Some just wanted to see what military service was like.
There was a recurring theme among the most devoted members of the modern Grimleal. For them, the organization had been a chance to escape the socioeconomic conditions they'd been born into. A defining aspect of feudalism is a lack of social and economic mobility. The classes that made up a feudal society were so defined that they were almost like castes. People did what their parents did. For generations people did what their parents did. It was hard to become anything else; to move beyond a role in society you were often given at birth. In such feudal systems, change often only comes through societal revolution, and in a way the Fell Dragon's rise was that revolution. The old kingdoms were destroyed. Old noble families ceased to matter in some cases, and old alliances were disbanded. The ancient regime and its aristocracy were swept away in favor of a new order, and this machine was fueled by new agents. Many were from lowly backgrounds, and Grima's rise gave them the chance to rise through merit. The new world order the Grimleal had since created had built a new feudal system all its own, and many still squandered in poverty, but there was still more social mobility now than ever. Joining the Grimleal was an opportunity to move up in life for many people, and such opportunities never existed before. In a twisted way, Grima's rise was one of the greatest things to ever happen to the lower classes.
Courtney and Altman were examples of this. The Grimleal gave them the opportunity to be more than peasants, and also provided them training with dark magic. Ascension and Sentzke escaped their primitive culture through the Grimleal. The Fell Dragon showed them a developed world they didn't even know existed, and both had become far more than they ever could while stuck in their tribe. Dartsmoth had been born to a persecuted tribe in his own continent. He and the rest of his people had been forced to live as nomads for crimes their ancestors had done decades before, but the Grimleal gave him a second chance. General Rouchfort was given the opportunity to serve in a real army again after Emmeryn and the Ylissean nobility exiled him decades prior, and so the career soldier served faithfully. Even Gangrel and Aversa were examples. Gangrel had little waiting for him after he left the Shepherds, and Aversa would be able to do little else but go back to the life Validar took her from. Now Gangrel was an Emperor, and Aversa had power and wealth beyond anything she would ever get otherwise. All of these people escaped societal persecution and or economic damnation through the Grimleal. Whereas many saw Grima as enslaving humanity, some could only see it as a liberator.
Thomas was an interesting case. She had been born into a life of wealth and prominence, but it was a gilded cage. Thomas' family was Ylissean nobility. Though their prestige faded after Grima's rise, their wealth didn't. Thomas' father increased the family fortune through deals with the Grimleal early in its rise, and he had hopes of making his house prominent in the new world. His greatest wish was for a son to carry on the family's legacy, but Naga gave him eight daughters over five wives instead. Born six years after Grima's rise, Thomas received her masculine name out of sheer spite, and three of her other sisters got this same treatment.
Thomas's father was deeply conservative, and he expected nothing else than for his daughters to marry and increase the family's wealth and connections. Thomas wanted much more for herself, but her father punished her severely for any behavior not one dimensionally feminine. She eventually attempted to survive on her own through a life of crime in her desperation for freedom, but her father decided he'd rather silence her then let the house's reputation be damaged. Thomas was hunted by her own family until, out of options, she turned herself into the Grimleal. Aversa's agents had heard of her story, and they gave her the chance to prove herself. But a few years later, Aversa personally selected her to be one of her most trusted inquisitors, and now Thomas answered only to superiors that trusted her to work independently. She owed her freedom to the Grimleal, and now she'd willingly dedicate her life to it.
The noblewoman turned inquisitor finally made her way through Camp Faith's halls and arrived in the tower's primary command center. This was a large, open room at the very top of the tower, but still inside the building. The room was surrounded by windows on all sides, and their was very little of interest in it. The one installation the room did house dominated everything in the space, and it was easily the most important asset in Camp Faith. This was the Faraskjótr. Like High Point, it was built with assistance from the Fell Dragon itself, and it was far more advanced than anything humanity could ever make on its own.
The Faraskjótr was essentially a giant warp stave; a teleportation system capable of moving people across vast distances. The magic to do this had been known to human civilization for millenia. What set this installation apart was its exponentially increased size and power. The Faraskjótr could be called on to teleport anyone in the continent. Upon activation, a pulse of dark magic is hurtled from Camp Faith towards the position of whoever called for it. The energy travels significantly faster than the speed of sound, and it can reach even the most remote areas of the Ylissean continent within minutes. The Faraskjótr's range isn't infinite. The entirety of the Ylissean continent and parts of the Valmese continent could be reached, but it couldn't teleport from anywhere else. For example, the personnel of High Point couldn't be teleported if the city was hovering over another part of the planet entirely. Like a warp stave however, the Faraskjótr's range was greater when teleporting people to their destinations. In this context, the installation's range was theoretically infinite. People could be sent anywhere in the world at a moment's notice, though this could be a one way trip if the distance was too great. Unlike a normal warp stave, the Faraskjótr could also teleport multiple people. As many as fifty could be moved at once.
The Faraskjótr had its limitations. The system consumed massive amounts of energy whenever used. Teleporting a single person put it on cooldown for thirty minutes, and teleporting fifty people rendered it inoperable for three hours. To prevent strain on the system and to ensure high priority individuals could always count on the teleporter being available, only very high ranking members of the Grimleal could request use of the Faraskjótr. Even then there was often a queue. Lastly, teleporting more than twenty people required advance notice. The Faraskjótr thus could not replace conventional travel for the majority of Grimleal personnel, but it still provided certain agents the ability to be anywhere they were needed, provided that they started relatively near the Faraskjótr, rather than in another part of the world.
Maintaining and operating the Faraskjótr, as well as handling the requests for its use, was a challenging prospect. The man responsible for this arduous task was Inquisitor Al-Amin, one of Aversa's inner circle. Though other high ranking inquisitors, such as Altman or Thomas, were frequently called on different missions, Al-Amin's sole responsibility was to operate the Faraskjótr. The Grimleal 1st army soldiers stationed there even answered to their own officer. Al-Amin's only job was to maintain the installation. He didn't command. He didn't move. He just stood in front of the Faraskjótr all day and waited for someone to request its use. Thomas thought it had to be a mind-numbing job, and Aversa couldn't have found someone better than Al-Amin.
Al-Amin stood in stark contrast to Thomas. He looked like a stereotypical dark mage, clad in heavy black robes and concealing most of his face in a hood. Whereas she was young and lively, Al-Amin was seventy three years old and incredibly sluggish in his movements. While Thomas often carried a cocky tone and expression, Al-Amin was quiet and reserved. His expression rarely ever deviated from a cold, intense stare. Thomas loved to hear herself talk, but Al-Amin only ever said what he had to. Thomas noted his familiar but entirely unwelcoming stare as she walked into his office. Though she'd seen it dozens of times, her eyes were invariably drawn to the Faraskjótr itself. She just couldn't get used to it.
The Faraskjótr took the form of a floating ball of dark magic. It was suspended about a meter off the ground, and it was three and a half meters tall. The energy was a dark, almost sickly black and purple color, and swirls and asymmetric patterns could be made out on the tumultuous surface of the sphere. Blasts of dark magic in the form of black and purple lightning bolts occasionally arced out of the Faraskjótr. Getting struck by one of these wasn't exceptionally painful, but it wasn't pleasant either. Thomas remembered that Al-Amin stood as close as he could to the Faraskjótr without being struck, so Thomas kept this same distance herself. At this range she was safe, though her long hair still stood up at end. Al-Amin's emotionless stare followed Thomas across the room. She nodded to him when she finally reached him, but he didn't react. "Al-Amin! Buddy! How's it going?"
"Inquisitor Thomas." He responded in a blank tone. "You want something."
Thomas noted that this wasn't phrased as a question. Al-Amin often figured out what people wanted before they could even say anything, though this couldn't be difficult. There weren't many reasons why anyone would visit him. "Come on, darling. Can't I just want to see an old friend?"
"No."
"Well… okay I do need your help. We need to report to the High Inquisitor soon, and you know that I'm still learning to use dark magic. Can I piggyback off your transmission?"
"Your tome. Inoperable?"
"My transmission is finicky. Can I just use yours?" Thomas grinned. "We'll be dark magic buddies. It'll be fun."
"Unlikely."
But without saying another word, Al-Amin did take out his own tome. The farakveða tome was one of many dark magic tomes created after the Fell Dragon's rise. It allowed real time communication with anyone who also had their own tome, regardless of distance. The Grimleal used this tome frequently for their communications, and Aversa required that all her inquisitors have one. The few inquisitors who couldn't use dark magic had to have others operate the tome, and Thomas was still learning. Thomas and Al-Amin stood in awkward silence for a few minutes until the elder inquisitor's tome began to glow, indicating that he was being hailed. He fired a blast of magical energy into the air. The blast paused in flight and suspended itself in the room. From the magical energy materialized a humanoid figure. Slowly but surely the image became more and more clear, until finally a flickering but otherwise detailed image of High Inquisitor Aversa appeared. Several more holographic images appeared a few seconds later, depicting Altman, Dartsmoth, and Ascension respectively. Ascension was completely incapable of magic, so she was piggybacking off of Aversa's transmission. Aversa's image looked around and smiled, happy to see the five members of her inner circle together again. "Alright, my lovelies, let's get to work. Dartsmoth, put out your cigarette."
Dartsmoth's people literally smoked a strange plant they called tobacco. It was apparently an addictive habit, and Dartsmoth wasn't entirely in control of it. He couldn't go more than a few hours without smoking. He also became irritable if denied a cigarette, though he wasn't always pleasant regardless. "Loptyr's bloody piss, Sheila! I'm nowhere near you!"
"Just do it, love. For me?"
"Ratshit Plegians." Dartsmoth's hologram put out his cigarette with his boot. Thomas sneered at him.
"What can you expect from an unmutual."
Dartsmoth's face twisted with rage. Thomas didn't actually know what that word meant in this context. She just knew that Dartsmoth used to be one on his continent, and he was infuriated at the mention of it. Thomas loved teasing him, especially since Dartsmoth didn't seem capable of taking it well. "Shut your whore mouth! If you had any idea of what that word meant to my people. Any idea!"
"I'd probably use it even more." Thomas interjected. Dartsmoth turned to Aversa.
"You going to let her talk to me like that?!"
"You know my policy, love. My dearies are responsible for defending their own egos."
Dartsmoth turned to Thomas and removed his sunglasses, something he almost never did. His hologram flickered and warped, and his eyes seemed to shine brightly. The inquisitors thought nothing of it, but Aversa knew what this meant. She was one of the few people that knew Dartsmoth wasn't entirely human anymore, and he hid one of the few traces of this behind his sunglasses. "One of these days, Thomas, you won't be a hologram to me. One of these days your pudgy, girlish bloody face will be next to mine, and your father will be scraping what's left of you from a can!"
"Ooh. I'm shaking in my boots over here."
One of the few pieces of furniture in the room suddenly fell over. Dartsmoth had apparently tried some kind of spell on Thomas, but Camp Faith had a ward that protected it from magic. It was a testament to Dartsmoth's power that he had managed to affect the building in any way. Aversa looked over to him and figured out what he was doing. "Dartsmoth! Need I remind you the penalties for treason?!"
"Yeah, yeah." Dartsmoth took a deep breath and put his sunglasses back on. "Let's just get on with it."
Aversa turned to look at everyone. "Alright. I want full reports on everyone's progress. Thomas, since you do so enjoy your own voice, why don't you start?"
"Gladly. I've got the most pressing news anyways." Thomas straightened her posture. "I just got an interesting report from my MAC-SOGs in southern Ferox. A group of independent mercenaries are claiming that they've captured a high value target. They want to hand her over to us, so long as we pay the bounty."
"And who might this high priority target be?"
Thomas smiled, eager to earn Aversa's praise. "Alpha Priority Target AZ-001."
Aversa rolled her eyes. "Come now, love. I don't have all the codenames memorized. Who is that?"
"She is referring to Tiki." Altman answered. "The voice of Naga."
"Number one on Grima's shitlist." Thomas added. "Even old Chrom boy pales in comparison to the daughter of Naga."
Aversa didn't react much. She seemed to consider Thomas' words. "How could a group of mercenaries possibly capture Tiki?! She's been avoiding us for thirty years. Is this information trustworthy?"
"I know it sounds ridiculous. I honestly don't expect anything to come from it, but it's worth further investigation. Who knows. Maybe we'll get lucky. She couldn't hide forever, and surely our bounty has inspired people to go looking for her."
"How could a divine dragon possibly be defeated by mercs?" Dartsmoth asked in a skeptical tone.
"Maybe they caught her napping."
"Maybe your men are idiotic."
"My SOGs wouldn't make this up. I'm not saying the mercenaries definitely have her. I'm just telling you what they're saying, and that I'll go investigate."
"Remind me of your 'SOGs' again?" Aversa asked.
"Military Assistance Command - Studies and Observations Group. Men and women I've picked from all over the world for the purposes of unconventional warfare. They're highly experienced, and they do what Gangrel's forces can't, and what us inquisitors just don't want to do."
Dartsmoth turned to Aversa. "That's a fancy way of saying she paid a few mercs to work for us and do her work for her. Doesn't mean they're trustworthy."
Thomas just smiled. "Shh, sweetie. Adults are talking."
Aversa wasn't sure of Thomas' claims, but she did smile at her retort. Thomas was easily her favorite in terms of disposition. She saw a bit of herself in Thomas, as she seemed to share her enjoyment of teasing and jeering. Dartsmoth didn't seem to have the wit for it, and Ascension, Altman, and Al-Amin couldn't be bothered. "So you don't know if this claim is real?"
"No, High Inquisitor. It's worth looking into though."
Altman nodded. "If we did capture her, we'd be able to make significant progress on Project: Xenologue. It's not enough to know how to open Outrealm gates. We'd need a significant amount of power to actually open them. If Naga could open Outrealm gates, then Tiki's power could surely do it. We could use her as a battery, once the machine is ready of course."
"When will this machine be ready?" Aversa asked.
"Unknown. You would have to ask the Anointed Ones, or perhaps the Fell Dragon itself."
"Hmm, I think I'll pass. I don't want to talk to Grima more than I have to. How goes Project: Xenologue by the way?"
"Progress is steady, but no breakthroughs will be made until I have Severa."
"Oh yeah. Little miss not good enough for mother. I remember her. Why do you need her again?"
"I studied the bodies of the Shepherds that passed through Outrealm gates until no more data could be acquired. I need a living person to continue my experiments. I want to study the effects Outrealm radiation has had on her body. This will hopefully allow me to better understand the magic Naga used to open them. It is of note that Cynthia and Nah's bodies were also unaccounted for, but I have no leads on where they could be. Cynthia disappeared into history, and our method of tracking Divine Dragons doesn't work on Nah. Her bloodline is too impure. I do have a lead on Severa, however. Her daughter Caeldori. I just need Dartsmoth to find her for me."
"Working on it, mate."
"Why can't Dartsmoth go after Severa, Cynthia, or Nah directly?" Aversa replied. Dartsmoth shrugged.
"Come now, boss woman. Even I need leads."
"Well what makes you think Severa is alive?"
Altman nodded, ready to answer this particular question. "If there was one thing the Shepherds were good at, it was survival. Kryczek once predicted that any surviving Shepherd had at least a seventy five percent chance of avoiding death by unnatural causes over the following several decades. This formula didn't apply to Nowi, of course, given our ability to track Divine Dragons. Her survival rate was only nine percent."
"So you're saying we didn't get lucky in bringing her down?"
"Yes. I doubt we'll get lucky in finding any of the others by chance, and I wish to increase our odds. These same odds tell me that Severa is likely still alive. Based on variables including but not limited to her age, class, skill, behavioural patterns, and bloodline, Kryczek once predicted an eighty three point three seven five percent chance of her continued survival for at least forty five years. It is possible that she is dead, and no breakthroughs can be achieved if she is dead, but I'm not going to assume that."
"Ever the scientist, Altman."
"I try. Kryczek once told me that science and magic cannot coexist, but I disagree. Magic is just a tool, and anything can be studied. Objectivity can be applied to our entire world."
"Continue your work, Altman. Dartsmoth, any progress on finding Chrom and Ophelia?"
"And remember that I need Caeldori alive." Dartsmoth interrupted.
"And further remember that I would like Chrom alive. Grima wants him dead, but I want to see him again first."
"I'm working, I'm working! I'm almost finished gathering intel. Once I'm done, I'll just call up Al-Amin and do the Grimleal glide over to their location."
Aversa wasn't sure why Dartsmoth thought he could figure out their location just by learning about them, but he was her best tracker. She didn't understand his thought processes, but she didn't doubt him either. "Good work, Dartsmoth. Al-Amin? How are things in Camp Faith?"
"The Faraskjótr? Operating normally."
"Anything you want to add?"
"No."
"Alright. Well Ascension here already knows her mission. She'll take her forces and personally enforce Black Authority on Gangrel's most significant assets. Within a month or two, we'll have taken everything from him. Everything worth taking anyways. If you bring Chrom to me alive, Dartsmoth, I can wait to kill him. We get to keep everything we take from Gangrel after Black Authority is lifted, so it is in our best interest to take as long as we can to kill Chrom. Grima isn't the most patient being, of course, so having him with me insures that we can kill him before the Fell Dragon gets too upset. I'd also very much like to have a little conversation with him. It's been so long since we've seen each other."
"Got it." Dartsmoth said.
"I don't need Ophelia though. Kill her. Anyone else with them too."
"Sure thing."
"Excellent work all of you. This meeting is adjourned."
Al-Amin ended his transmission. He turned to Thomas, finding that she was still looking at him. "You want something else."
"One last thing, baby. I need to do the Grimleal glide myself. Take me to my personal headquarters in southern Ferox so I can investigate the mercenaries."
Al-Amin didn't say anything more. He didn't even nod. He just turned to the Faraskjótr and fired a blast of dark magic from his hands. The Faraskjótr glowed brightly. If Thomas was outside the building, it would have fired a pulse of energy through the windows to her position. Since she was so close, the Faraskjótr just continued to glow until the light became blinding. When it finally subsided and returned to normal, Thomas was nowhere to be seen.
Aversa ended her transmission and turned to Ascension, who had been standing beside her. Ascension dwarfed Aversa, and almost no one she knew came close to her height. She couldn't help but smile at the sight of her much favored inquisitor. Having muscular servants was a classic sign of power and influence after all. "Well, Ascension, get to work."
"Yes, High Inquisitor. My mission of glorious conversion and intercession will begin at once."
"Right… so long as that 'glorious' mission includes using Black Authority to absorb Gangrel's assets. You know, what I actually told you to do?"
"Of course, High Inquisitor. That is what I meant. I will see to my forces at once."
Aversa watched as Ascension left, and her smile faded somewhat as she turned to find her son Thallius walking towards her. Thallius' expression made his own desire to be anywhere else clear, whereas Aversa at least feigned a smile. "Well if it isn't my beloved son. I see you're finally reporting to me."
"Whatever, mother."
Aversa could already feel a vein in her head throb, and she struggled to maintain even a false look of positivity. "Just… just wait for your mother in your new quarters. I'll give you a task later."
"Sure. Just let me consult my magical map that informs me of where that is. Oh what? There's no such thing? Someone has to tell me where to go? I had no idea. I mean my mother didn't tell me where that was, and she would never forget a crucial detail like that."
For much of her life, Aversa had always had a retort or remark ready, but her son's blunt approach to sarcasm had disarmed her over the years. There was just no easy way to deflect such a simplistic approach to snark. Instead she would always run her hand down her face and force an even wider smile until her frustration subsided, and then she'd try to avoid talking to her son any further as much as possible. She turned to a nearby soldier. "Why don't you show my oh so exhausted son to his arrangements?"
"Yes, High Inquisitor."
The soldier departed with Thallius in tow, and Aversa turned to see her two elder children approaching. Her oldest child, Servillia, was a few years older than Thallius. She wore simple white robes, and she had inherited her father's jet black hair. Her sister Fulvia was a year younger, and her black robes were contrasted heavily by her stark white hair, the same hair color her brother and mother had. Both women nodded courteously at their mother. "High Inquisitor." They chanted at the same time.
"Girls. Did you enjoy the trip?"
"It was quiet, mother." Fulvia responded. "I enjoyed it."
"Good. I haven't any need for you at the moment, so feel free to inspect your accommodations. Follow your brother, and do make sure he doesn't upset anyone important."
"Yes, mother." Servillia replied.
Meanwhile, Ascension paced around the harbor Matriarch's Vindication had sailed into. The small port was a purely military installation located just a few kilometers from Ylisstol. Ascension's forces included a small flotilla of ships she kept here, and Aversa had stopped at the port to allow Ascension to retrieve them. She was also tired of her galleon and wanted to enter Ylisstol on foot. Ascension herself had grown tired of sailing, and she was happy to enjoy being on land again. She quite content with herself until she heard the murmurings of Captain Cassia behind her.
"Gods! Finally! What a long voyage. I can't believe Grima couldn't just move High Point here. We had to sail to the middle of nowhere to pick the High Inquisitor up, and then we had to sail all the way here just because Grima couldn't be bothered to fly Aversa over here. Just… just damn! I love my ship, but I don't want to be on it for that long."
Ascension was briefly enveloped with fury, such that she snarled to herself. She knew she couldn't do anything to Captain Cassia, but most people who criticized Grima in any way in her presence quickly regretted it.
The sailor Cassia had been talking to noticed Ascension, but initially paid her little mind. "Tell me about it."
"And it was unbearable having that savage on my bridge. Remember how she killed one of her own soldiers? Why did Aversa ever take her from her wretched continent? Damn spear chucker. I wish she'd stay away from me."
Ascension's pride forced her to respond. She slowly walked over to Cassia. The man she was talking to saw her and backed away, but Cassia was unaware until she was right behind her. She turned to see Ascension's abdomen, and she had to step back to look up to her eyes. Ascension's face barely hid an expression of rage, but she was outwardly calm. Cassia quickly glanced around and saw that both Aversa and her marines weren't in earshot. She held her ground, but her body language was far more subdued than it had been the last time she talked to Ascension. "I'm a savage, am I? Tell me, Cassia, what makes this so? Why are my people primitives, and yours civilized?"
Cassia stood up tall, though her voice was shaky. "We are strong, Ascension. Our cultures are developed and sophisticated, and our technology is beyond yours. That is why Ylisse and Valm are the most important continents in the world. That is why we are at the Fell Dragon's right side."
"One day that will change, Valm born. One day my people will be the chosen torchbearers of civilization's light."
Ascension's soldiers stood in abject misery. The roughly seventy men and women under her command that had followed her aboard the Matriarch's Vindication were now gathered in a feasting hall, and they were all desperately tired and hungry. For months they had been crammed into a ship. Large as it was, being stuck on the galleon for that long had been maddening. There was little to eat on a sailing ship besides hardtacks and heavily salted meat that still managed to be covered in maggots, and fresh fruits and produce were completely unavailable. The only way to eat anything else was to catch a fish, and that didn't keep very long. No one starved on the Matriarch's Vindication, but no one ate well either. For months Ascenion's troops had dreamed of a real meal, and now one was staring them in the face. Taunting them.
Laid out in front of the soldiers was a massive table. Two roasted pigs, carved in such a way that helpings could readily be taken, formed the center of a decadent feast. Cooked sides, fruits, and vegetables all surrounded the pigs, and dipping sauces of all kinds completed the setup. The food was just waiting to be consumed, and the smell wafting through the room was something out of a seaman's dreams, but no one was eating yet. Ascension had a policy on large feasts. No one could eat until the food was properly blessed. As much as every soldier in the room was completely dominated by a primal desire for a stomach full of decent food at that moment, none of them moved. Ascension was very strict on her religious policies. Any soldier that went for the food would be punished severely, and everyone was aware of what had happened to the young woman that denied the Fell Dragon's very existence in front of Ascension. Though hunger was one of humanity's basest desires, it did not overcome the fear of being brutally killed. Ascension knew what her soldiers wanted, and she reveled in their quiet suffering. She was asking her soldiers to put aside their instinctive wants in the name of a greater, abstract concept. In her mind it was a test of faith. Any soldier that lacked the devotion to refrain from their base desires in the name of piety was a heretic in her eyes, and Ascension hated nothing more. Her soldiers would eat only after the food was properly blessed, and Deacon Sentzke would be delivering this blessing. Sentzke himself had mixed feelings on this. He didn't mind saying grace, but making his comrades wait to eat didn't endear him to them.
"And we thank Grima for this food we are about to have. We never forget that it is by the Fell Dragon's grace that we can enjoy such bounty, and our complete and total devotion is but a small price to pay for such patronage. Of course, food is the least of the benefits our worship bestows to us. We seek a far greater achievement. That of everlasting clarity and omniscience. The Fell Dragon is the key to our unworlding, and in time we shall cast aside the shackles of mortality and follow our lord into a continuance beyond our current imagining." Sentzke had been going on and on for about fifteen minutes now. He paused to make sure everyone was listening to him before continuing, as he was nearing Ascenion's favorite part. "I have heard the words whispered among you. Murmurings of fear and discontent. I promise you that there is no need to panic. Though the world is consumed by chaos, and though we are surrounded by rebels and infidels and insurrectionists, this is not a time to panic. No, no this is a time to rejoice. We are so close to our goals of enlightenment and salvation. Through our faith, our path is clear, and our entry into a great beyond is guaranteed. Nothing, nothing, can stop us so long as we walk a blessed path. Look amongst yourselves now. We all come from different backgrounds. We live in a flawed world, a world defined by injustices. Talent, wealth, opportunity, these are not equally distributed. Salvation is, however. That is the legacy of the Grimleal. We have spread the opportunity for salvation to all the people of the world, and in doing so we unite our disparate and violent race in the pursuit of a better future. We are all different, unique, and we all live our own lives, but the blessed path is broad and we shall all walk it side by side. Such truth is reflected in nature itself. Different as all humans are, we can all enjoy the same food, and the feast laid before us now is an example of this. I bless this food as Deacon, so that we can cast aside the weaknesses of our mortal coils and enjoy the freedom of rational thought. Thoughts free from the tyranny of scarcity, so that our fervor not be subverted by hunger."
Sentzke had finally finished his part of the blessing, or rather he had finished the part done entirely by him. It was still not time to eat yet, as Ascension had a part of her own. She slowly walked across the room, intentionally strolling past the food so that her troops would have to look at it, and made her way to a large banner hanging on the wall. The banner depicted the Mark of Grima. "Soldiers! The human condition can be divided into six periods. What is the first period?"
"Ignorance and strife!" All of her soldiers chanted.
Ascension would ask her soldiers, and they would answer. It was still Sentzke's job to explain the meaning of the words however. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore his grumbling stomach. "In the beginning, we were as beasts. We lived as hunter gatherers, and we had not yet been graced with civilization's light. We cared only for primal desires, but in time our minds found a higher calling. That of theological devotion."
"What is the second period?" Ascension asked.
"Desertion and desecration!" Her soldiers answered.
"Humans eventually built the beginnings of our modern society. We abandoned the lifestyle nature intended for us, and in doing so we became a burden on the natural order or things. All other living things live within their means, but humans do not. We have proliferated in numbers, and we consume more resources than the land can provide on its own. We take from our environment, and rarely do we give back. We have forsaken nature in favor of civilization, and in doing so we have doomed ourselves to eventual ruination. The only way to preserve our race is through salvation. The end of want and scarcity."
"What is the third period?"
"Countenance and edification!"
"For most of our history the dragons looked down on us. They considered us to be primitives. We were inferior to them. However, the Divine Dragon King Naga decided to bless us with his support. Through him, human civilization advanced and prospered. Many dragons fought against Naga, but in the end they were defeated. Though the dragons that helped to develop our civilization have since fallen to degeneration, our species lives on. Naga chose us to be the successors to the dragons, and our kind was shown light and truth. Because of them, humanity now holds the knowledge to ancient power. However, the dragons deserve not our devoted adherence. Their civilization was destroyed. In their arrogance, the dragons did not wish to evolve beyond their mortal coils, and so they fell to degeneration. The only way to escape our inherently doomed existence is through salvation, and we must never lose sight of this. We must not allow mortal pleasures and base desires to distract us from the blessed path."
"What is the fourth period?"
"Faith and turmoil!"
"Many challenges had to be overcome as our species came to dominate the world. Humans waged petty wars with each other. Our increased knowledge brought much increased sorrow. This world that once served as our cradle became as a wretched prison. Nothing could save us from a dark and meaningless existence. Nothing save for our faith. Blessed light beckons us onwards to a future beyond our frail forms. We were called to trade short term gain for long term glory. Instinctive needs for abstract ideas. The path is wrathful, but walk it we must. It is a test for the faithful. The yoke is heavy and red with rust. The journey is long, but its glory is available to all the throng."
"What is the fifth period?"
"Primacy and intercession!"
"In time our race came to rule the world in its entirety, and in time our quest for religious fulfillment was rewarded. Grima the Fell Dragon delivered its glory to us. Though the First Exalt slew Grima when it initially appeared, we were eventually blessed with a second chance. All we had to do was spread Grima's glory to all the world. In exchange, we have been granted the opportunity for something greater than anything we could achieve on our own. The Fell Dragon asks only that we serve. That we genuflect ourselves before it. That we help to convert the ignorant and sweep away the blasphemers. In doing so, we are granted a chance for ascension to something greater. The dragons in their arrogance chose to stay in this mortal world, but we will not make that mistake. We will achieve a harmony beyond what nature intended for us. We will evolve past our bestial and animalistic beginnings. We will be saved from a life defined by suffering."
"What is the sixth period?"
"Enlightenment and salvation!"
"Through Grima we will overcome the chaos of life! Without chaos there can be no new living things. We owe our existence to it, but we must work to allow harmony to prevail. Only when we cast aside our desires can we achieve harmony. Only when we devote ourselves entirely to something greater than any individual can we achieve harmony. Only when we walk a blessed path can we achieve harmony. Worship of the Fell Dragon is the path to this, and through its glory we shall ascend! We will join it in glorious and eternal salvation! We will leave cruelty and savagery behind, and we will have permanent and infinite understanding! Where the dragons degenerated, we will be free of mortal strife! No more want! No more scarcity! We will have a continuance greater than anything nature could provide. This is enlightenment!"
Ascension pointed at the banner. "Six periods for six eyes of Grima! Know that the periods are not carved in stone, but are malleable. Humanity can regress. Should our civilization collapse, for example, we would go back to the first period. We stand now in the fifth period. Enlightenment and salvation are at hand, but only through the Fell Dragon. One day my brothers and sisters, one day, we will achieve this. One day we will be free of our mortal coils. One day we will be rewarded for our faith, for walking the blessed path, but for now we are limited by physical weakness. For now we must continue to convert the ignorant, silence heresy, and serve the High Inquisitor. For now… we shall eat."
As leader of the group, Ascension was entitled to the first helping of food. As Deacon, and as a further sign of his holiness and humility, Sentzke was entitled only to the very last helping. He had to stand and watch for over twenty minutes as every other soldier helped themselves to a plate of food before he could go. He moved as fast as his pudgy body would let him as soon as he could finally eat, and he quickly made a plate that featured everything the feast had to offer. Sentzke could barely contain his excitement as he rushed to a table, but his glee was taken from him as a blunt object struck him in the back of the head, causing him to drop his plate on the ground. For a few seconds, Sentzke could no nothing but stare in dejected sorrow at his ruined meal as it spread across the floor, and he looked down to see red juice staining his bright white stole. A half eaten slice of watermelon had been thrown at him, and the perpetrators of this were still pointing and laughing at him.
"An offering for his holiness!" One of Ascension's soldiers sneered. The young man was surrounded by two other teenage male companions.
"Ha! Nice hustle there tons-of-fun!" Another of the soldiers yelled. "Next time try skipping out on dessert."
The third boy stepped forward. "Hey! The mess hall was hollering at us earlier. They said they're running out of desserts! Would you have anything to do with that?"
Sentzke finally forced himself to turn around. "Oh yeah?! Well… well… the jerk store called! They're running out of you!"
"What's it matter, fatass? You're their all time best seller!"
Sentzke fumed in silence. He knew things wouldn't get better for him, but his pride forced him to try and think of another comeback. The three boys stood waiting for a chance to mock him further until a hulking figure made its way behind them, and they looked up to see Ascension glaring down at them. The three hung their heads and quickly left, but Ascension did nothing to punish them. She had a policy similar to Aversa, except that it was more severe. Her soldiers were responsible for dealing with their own problems. In her eyes, you were only bullied if you weren't standing up for yourself. Ascension was fond of Sentzke, and she occasionally helped him, but she never did anything to actually dissuade people from tormenting him.
"T-thanks… I guess."
"Of course."
Sentzke looked up at his distant cousin. Sentzke had known Ascension since he was a teenager and she was a girl, and they both shared a great-great-grandparent, but the two were never close until they both joined the Grimleal. Sentzke went with Ascension's plan to turn on her own people out of genuine theological devotion, but he wasn't sure how he felt about the violent lifestyle she had since dragged him into. Sentzke was more afraid of Ascension than anything, but he knew she had some affection for him. Much as she valued strength, and as much as Sentzke's cowardice and physical inability frustrated her, Ascension admired Sentzke's faith and education. "Hey, Ascension?" Sentzke asked meekly.
"Have you need of assistance, Deacon?"
"Well uh…" Sentzke looked down. "Can you… can you get me another plate of food? No one will mess with you! If you do I'll, I'll… I'll make the next sermon extra long!"
Ascension thought about it. "Thirty extra minutes."
"Throw in a dessert and I'll make it forty five minutes longer."
"Deal."
Sentzke hurried to his chair and sat in eager and giddy anticipation until his commander returned with a plate of food and a small dessert. "Here you go, Deacon. I expect a great deal of effort to be put into your next sermon. More effort than you were willing to expend getting your own food."
Sentzke had already filled his mouth with pork and a helping of every side on his plate before Ascension could finish talking. "Mmph. Bsure thingf." Sentzke had gotten a good deal as far as he was concerned. He enjoyed giving sermons, and he knew the teenage members of Ascension's army, the ones most likely to pick on him, hated having to sit through them. He reveled in their boredom.
"Another thing, Sentzke. I'd like you to check on my personal flotilla tomorrow. Make sure the sips are ready to be sailed. We're heading up the coast soon."
Sentzke swallowed. He hated the captain of Ascension's flagship, and he knew checking on the ships would mean having to talk to him. "Why me?"
"Or you could stay here and help me get the troops ready."
"Er… alright I'll go."
The following day, immediately following an hour and forty five minute long sermon, Sentzke went back to the port Matriarch's Vindication was still docked in. A number of spaces away from the galleon, docked in much smaller facilities, was Ascension's flotilla. The high ranking inquisitor had three ships under her command, the caravels Heretical Dictata and Proclamation of the Forsworn, and the flagship Reclamation's Tithe. Sentzke first inspected the caravels, and he was given tours of the ships by their captains, Captain Ponders and Captain Forsell respectively. Sentzke stalled as long as he could, but he was eventually forced to board the Reclamation's Tithe and converse with its captain, an obnoxious man named Crespo.
"Sentzke! Old buddy! It's been some time hasn't it?!" Captain Crespo was a tall man with curly blonde hair and green eyes he kept in an unsettling and unhinged stare. He wore an elaborate red and gold outfit he had once taken off a slain pirate lord with an ego almost as large as his, and he was very vain in general. He was covered in jewelry and piercings, and his Mark of Grima was tattooed right on his forehead. Relatively unique to him was its color. His tattoo was blood red, whereas most Grimleal personnel got their required tattoo in black or blue ink. Crespo would be an intimidating sight if Sentzke didn't know he had the maturity of a child.
Crespo greeted Sentzke by maneuvering behind him, wrapping his arm around his neck, and running his knuckles across the top of his head while laughing. "Gah! S-stop! STOP! GET OFF!"
"Ha! Just messing with you, your arseholiness. So what brings you by my ship? Here for an inspection?"
"Yeah. Ascension wants to sail soon, and I just want to get this over with."
"Ha! Nonsense. I'll give you the full tour. We're already fit for sailing. Let me show you."
Crespo lead Sentzke on a long tour of the ship. He was very intelligent in naval matters, and he knew how to keep his ship in good shape. At the same time he had a tendency to drone on and on about how impressive the ship was or his own personal accomplishments, so Sentzke was only half listening. The Reclamation's Tithe was given to Ascension by Aversa as a gift, and it was easily her favorite possession. For centuries, naval warfare had been dominated by large warships. Bigger ships could hold more boarding crew, and they were more destructive when ramming. While this was largely still true, gunpowder weapons were slowly starting to change the nature of combat between ships. Just as armies were increasingly relying on firearms, heavy cannons and mortars were being added to ships. To further distance herself from her "primitive" background, Ascension was quick to jump on technological advancements. At great expense, she had the Reclamation's Tithe outfitted with twenty cannons, ten on each side. Four heavy mortars were also installed on the back of the ship, allowing it to attack distant targets and even giving it the ability to bombard targets on land. For its size, the ship was one of the most heavily armed in the world.
Besides just having cannons, Reclamation's Tithe represented a new doctrine of ship design. Though bigger was still better, speed and maneuverability were increasingly being taken into account. Larger ships were tough but slow, and small ships were quick but fragile. Many ship designers sought to bridge this gap, and to this end they created a new class of warship called the frigate. Frigates were designed to be much larger and more powerful than lighter cogs, caravels and carracks, but they could easily outrun and turn circles around galleons and most heavy merchant vessels. To make them lighter, they generally only had one or two decks, and were designed to be much narrower than heavier warships. Frigates could be outsailed by smaller ships and overpowered by larger ships, but they had no crippling weaknesses.
Reclamation's Tithe was thirty eight meters long from bow to stern, and it had a displacement of 1,000 tons. The ship only had two decks, but it could hold some two hundred people. The ship was dwarfed by the Matriarch's Vindication, but it was much larger than the two caravels, and it easily intimidated most merchant vessels and smaller warships. Crespo's vanity extended to the ship, and he had blood red stripes painted horizontally along the ship's hull. The square rigged sails also had blood red stripes running vertically, and the Mark of Grima was emblazoned on the center. A sculpture of the Fell Dragon, its four wings outstretched, was used as the ship's figurehead. The ship's personal flag, flying high atop the ship's main mast, was a red banner with the Mark of Grima in the center and two black stripes running horizontally down the sides.
Sailing ships could attract rat infestations if the crew weren't careful, and Reclamation's Tithe had a cat to prevent this. A female gray, short haired cat named Grima the Fell Kitty lived on the ship. She hated Sentzke in particular, and Sentzke hated her. He was about to inquire about her absence when the cat jumped on his back and clawed at him as many times as she could before Sentzke finally threw her off. Grima the Fell Kitty hissed at him before scurrying back into the ship's corridors, leaving Sentzke covered in scratches and Crespo laughing hysterically. "I-I forgot about how much s-she hates you! Ha! Oh man. This is going to be a fun voyage!"
"It's not supposed to be fun! This is a serious mission! Aversa needs these assets, and some of Gangrel's forces might violently resist our appropriation of their resources."
"Don't worry, your holiness. We'll be fine. Did you find everything to be in order?"
"Yeah. I'll tell Ascension that the ships are ready. Just let me off this thing."
Dartsmoth hadn't just questioned Donald while visiting the town Chrom had lived in for the past twenty years. He also questioned almost everyone in the town. Most people didn't know much about him. They described him as a quiet old man that rarely did anything but scavenge, drink, and keep to himself in his house. Dartsmoth noted that someone had told the townspeople of Mercer's true identity shortly before he left, and he figured it was most likely Courtney, the agent responsible for taking Chrom to the Rockpile before Caeldori's riot. Though Dartsmoth had gathered little information on Chrom from the townspeople, what he did learn was still very enlightening. Mercer had truly been a broken and depressed man before his unexpected attack on Courtney's power base. Something had triggered this response. Something had motivated him again.
Dartsmoth currently stood in front of Mercer's old house. He had sent the twelve Deadlords away to avoid scaring off the townspeople, but they now stood by his side once more, awaiting orders. Dartsmoth paid them little mind. He just eyed the house Mercer had lived in for two decades and thought about his target.
"Mercer really was a different bloke wasn't he, Chrom? He would have disgusted your younger self." Dartsmoth lit a cigarette and paced back and forth, focusing his thoughts. "From what I know about you, it seems you were a very driven man. Emmeryn wanted a new age of pacifism, and you shake your head and build a militia under your own authority. No government oversight whatsoever. Gangrel wants Ylisse to surrender, and you fight back. Carve a bloody swath through Plegia even as the rest of the Ylissean military buckles and end the war by defeating Gangrel personally. Walhart wants to bring all humanity under his boot, and you rally a diverse alliance of people all fighting for their own sovereignty to overwhelm him. The Grimleal say Robin's destiny is to be the Hierophant, and that Grima's rise is inevitable, and you fight them until your army gives out under you. You were a driven, stubborn man. You weren't a statesman, and you weren't just a soldier. You were something more dangerous. An ideologically driven man with a natural predilection for violence. You didn't just kill people, you killed people and stuck your chin up about it." Dartsmoth took a deep inhale and slowly exhaled smoke into the face of Mus, leader of the Deadlords. He chuckled to himself as even having smoke blown in its face didn't make Mus react. "But then the Shepherds fall. You were driven by a desire to help people. By having your friends and family by your side. When they all fell by your hand, it broke you. You turned into a man that would make your younger self throw up, and you'd probably strangle your younger self if you could get your hands on him now. So why are you fighting again? Why did you become Chrom again, or is Chrom really gone? Are you someone else entirely now?"
Dartsmoth finally entered the building. The first thing he noticed was how much of a mess it was. The floor was covered with scorch marks, and a badly burned pig with a piercing wound was lying decomposed on the floor. There were even blood stains on the ground. The house truly hadn't been inhabited since Courtney captured the group. Dartsmoth walked further into the structure until he found the chest of personal belongings that Chrom had tried to take before Courtney attacked. There were only a handful of items on the floor. A short sword, two books, baby clothes, and a wedding ring. Dartsmoth ran his fingers along the objects, and images flashed through his head. When he touched the wedding ring, he saw Chrom as a young man talking to a blonde woman in a pink dress. The baby clothes showed him an image of the time displaced Lucina talking to the same woman. One of the books showed Chrom talking to a white haired man in a robe, and the other showed a woman reading to Chrom as a little boy many decades ago. The sword showed Chrom, younger than he was now but still older than he was when he was fighting with the Shepherds, talking to a younger Donald. Dartsmoth rose to his feet. "I just don't get it. What made him start fighting again?"
Dartsmoth wandered through the house until he came across what looked like Chrom's bedroom. He briefly checked through drawers and shelves, and he found clothing that looked like it would be for an adult man. Dartsmoth decided that this was most likely his bedroom, and he began to strip off his clothing. "Well like I always say. To find a bloke, you have to understand how he thinks. Sleeping in his bed, being where he was, is a good start." Dartsmoth stripped down until he was wearing only his breeches and sunglasses, and then climbed into what had been Chrom's bed. "Mmm. Come on, Chrom. Let me hear your dreams."
That night, Dartsmoth had a dream about that fateful day thirty years prior. He seemed to be in Chrom's body, but he was also an impartial observer. He couldn't control Chrom's movements at all, and everything was as if on rails. Dartsmoth just watched in glee as Chrom threw himself at the men and women that trusted him more than anything. Notably, Dartsmoth didn't see the Shepherds as Risen like Chrom did. He saw everything exactly as it was, and he paid particular attention to what everyone was saying.
"Chrom! What are you doing?!"
"Are we under attack?!"
"Wait no! NO!"
"Gregor is confused?"
"Try not to hit him. Just restrain him!"
"Get the Falchion!"
"It's me?! IT'S ME!"
"Please *sobbing* don't cut!"
"Get him down!"
"I can't find Robin!"
"Look at his eyes!"
"Can't you see us?! Chrom!"
"We trusted you!"
"This is not happening!"
"Get up. Get up!"
"Get away from us!"
"Why can't you hear us?!"
"FATHER!"
Dartsmoth woke up and shot upwards. "Ha! I've got it! Just leave my baby in the cold for the timber wolves, I've got it!" Dartsmoth put his feet down on the floor as quickly as he could and telekinetically dressed himself. He noticed the cigarette he neglected to finish, shrugged at the waste, and lit another one. He rushed through the house and back into the open air. It was still night out, but he didn't care. He just needed someone to talk to, to share his revelations with. He found his audience in the Deadlords, still loyally standing outside the house. They didn't say much, but Dartsmoth only wanted them to listen. "I've figured it out, mates! Nothing inspired Chrom to fight for the world again! Nothing! He's too damn broken to think that the world could be anything but fucked up beyond all repair. Everything's FUBAR to him." Dartsmoth turned to Mus. "But he still cares about people. He doesn't care about ideology or bettering the world anymore because he doesn't think the world can be saved. He doesn't think he has the answers anymore. He knows he became complacent in his belief that he knew exactly how to fix the world as a younger man, and he doesn't want to fight for it anymore. Why is he fighting us now? Because he still has his love of people. He'll still do anything for the ones he cares about. It's what drives him. It's all he cares about now. He thinks he's been given another chance with the people he's with now, and he thinks fighting with them is penance. Now I have a theory, and it's a real corker of a theory, but I need to test it." Dartsmoth turned to Mus and smiled. "And I know just how to do it."
When Dartsmoth had inquired further about the Deadlords with Altman, he told him that they were made from the bodies of the Shepherds. Dartsmoth didn't know exactly who the Deadlords were, but he had a hunch on who Mus was, especially after realizing the body Mus was reincarnated from was female. Dartsmoth walked over to the Deadlord and slowly removed its helmet, confirming his suspicions. Though the skin was discolored and had a sickly blackish purple look to it, and though the eyes now shone bright red, the face was undeniably that of Lucina. Her Brand of the Exalt was even still visible on the left eye, though it was now a black silhouette against the red. Dartsmoth smiled and took a few steps closer to Mus. "Hold still, babydoll. This might sting."
Dartsmoth ran his finger along Mus' forehead and, just as with the items, images began to flash through his head. Dartsmoth was immediately bombarded with Mus' memories. If he were less skilled with this ability, he would have been overwhelmed by the millennia of memories he was seeing, but he blocked it out until he finally reached the memories of the body Mus had been reincarnated from. Dartsmoth immediately went for memories Lucina had of Chrom, and he focused on one that Lucina herself seemed to value very highly. Dartsmoth concentrated, and it became more than an image. It was as if he were there, and he could see and hear everything that happened. Lucina is standing with her side turned towards Chrom, and then she faces him. Chrom stares at her in confusion before realizing what she was trying to show him. The Brand of the Exalt was on her left eye. It was the same place his newborn daughter had her brand. Dartsmoth realized that Chrom didn't know who the time displaced Lucina was until this moment.
"That's the Brand of the Exalt…" Chrom looks at Lucina again, but differently this time. "Lucina…" His gaze is drawn to the Falchion at her side. "You deserved better from me than one sword and a world of troubles. I'm sorry."
Lucina's stoic look breaks down, and her face begins to contort with sadness. It's not misery though. Rather, she seemed to be releasing emotions she had been hiding for some time. Chrom wipes her tears away, and she hugs him tightly. Dartsmoth pays close attention to Chrom. To his voice. To his expression. To his body language. "Oh, father!" Lucina cries into Chrom's shoulder, but Chrom just holds her. "Father."
Dartsmoth pulled himself back to reality, finding Mus still staring at him blankly. Dartsmoth knew the people he used his ability on also saw what he saw, yet Mus didn't react at all to the emotional memory of its host. Lucina truly was gone. Mus was a separate individual entirely. An undead parasite leeching off of Lucina's strength. Dartsmoth tossed the armored Deadlord its helmet, and Mus put it back on. "He didn't know you. At that point, you were just the strange woman he kept running into. Hell he didn't even know the daughter he actually conceived that well. All she did was eat, cry, sleep, poop, and stare at things. He knew jack diddly shit about you, but the moment he realizes you're his daughter, he loves you. Just like that. You were his daughter from that point on, like he'd known you your whole life, and hell he probably thought that more than you did. That's just who he is. He loves people. He'll do anything for the ones he cares about." Dartsmoth drew his farakveða tome. "If Chrom wants to protect his friends, but doesn't think the world can be fixed anymore, than he won't care where he goes. His group would just wander around aimlessly after escaping the Rockpile with no destination in mind, but he wouldn't abandon them. He'd go wherever they went. If his group didn't move with a destination in mind, then they would be very likely to stay in the area, and that would mean they would likely come into contact with the Arch Surg at some point. If they did, they'd be taken to the largest Arch Surg settlement in the area."
Dartsmoth used his tome to hail Al-Amin, and he responded almost instantly. "Inquisitor Dartsmoth."
"Take me to Nowi Falls. Oh, and take my diggers too."
Al-Amin's blank face almost showed concern. "Nowi Falls? Arch Surg infestation present."
"Oh I bet that's not true anymore. Things tend to change whenever Chrom shows up."
"Your safety. Jeopardized."
"Just do it you piker." Dartsmoth ended the transmission and turned back to Mus. "Clench up, buttercup." Less than a minute later, a blast of dark magic hurtled to Dartsmoth's position and materialized into a flat disc. The disc flung itself to the ground, and Dartsmoth and the Deadlords disappeared as they passed through it.
When Courtney assumed command of the Grimleal 4th army, he mostly used it to lure away the city's main garrison. He did have its scouting units probe Nowi Falls before the attack however. Those scouting units helped Courtney to plan his attack, and they waited patiently for him to return afterwards. Courtney never did come back, as he wished to hide his failure from his emperor. After days of waiting, the scouts finally decided to investigate the city's fate for themselves.
The smell inside the city's walls was absolutely excruciating. The city square, where the Tunnellers had created their body pile, was rendered inhospitable by the stench, and the dozens of corpses still scattered around other parts of the city didn't create a pleasant odor either. There were no human inhabitants left in this city at this point, and in their place were hundreds of buzzards. They gorged themselves on the free feast, and the Grimleal scouts sometimes had to chase them away to move through the streets. Noxious as the smell was, the scouts were trained to power through it. They were busy investigating signs of Courtney's attack, trying to figure out what he was unwilling to report about. There were two anomalies that stood out above all others. Cordelia's remains found buried in a shallow grave, and a corpse they confirmed as Dr. Kryczek's.
"Damn." The lead scout sighed as he stood over Kryczek's body. Though buzzards had picked at it, the desert climate had otherwise slowed the rate of decomposition. "Gangrel's suspicions were correct. Kryczek was KIA. Without him, the Reaver program has been shot in the foot."
The man's subordinate walked over to him. Like all scouts he wore full body leather armor, colored black, and a metal helmet that concealed his face. All the scouts had light melee weapons on them, and the lead scout had a carbine by his side. "What about Gangrel's chief Enforcer? E-13? Any sign of her?"
"None. She must have escaped. That's good news at least. The Emperor only lost one of his favorite people."
The lead scout looked up at the night sky, and his attempt to concentrate on its beauty and peacefulness was ruined as a purple disc suddenly rose up from the ground behind him. He turned to find Dartsmoth and the Deadlords staring at him, Dartsmoth still smoking his cigarette. "Wonderful night isn't it, mates?" Dartsmoth's nose crinkled. "Ah! Okay who opened their lunch? What is that smell?"
"What are you doing here, Inquisitor?"
"Snuggle rooting with your mum. None of your fuckin' bizzo what I'm doing here, recon." Dartsmoth sniffed a few times and recoiled. "By Validar's pointy beard it smells horrible here. It smells worse than the Fell Dragon when it flies with its mouth open too long and has to let out excess air."
"The Fell Dragon… farts?"
"Take a trip to High Point sometime and find out for yourself." Dartsmoth held his cigarette to his nose, preferring the smoke to the stench of death. "Anyways, what are you fine government men doing here?"
"Operations Commander Courtney lead an attack here a few days ago. He was trying to take out Chrom and Ophelia for the Emperor, but the attack seems to have failed."
"Seems to have?"
"Courtney never reported back to the Emperor, so no one knows exactly what happened. We're investigating."
"So Chrom definitely was here?"
"Yes. He and Ophelia seem to have escaped, but there was one member of their group that didn't make it. Cordelia seems to have died in the attack. This confirms that Chrom and Ophelia are traveling with multiple individuals."
Dartsmoth smiled and considered everything he was hearing. "Tell you what. How would you boys like a new job?"
"We have a duty to fill."
"Let me rephrase that. Do you know of Black Authority? An order given by the Fell Dragon itself that allows the High Inquisitor and her high ranking agents to appropriate resources and personnel from Gangrel?"
"Yeah…"
"Black Authority has been issued, and since I'm a high ranking Inquisitor in service to the High Inquisitor, I have the ability to appropriate people as I see fit. Come on. We've got work to do."
The lead scout tensed up. "What?! I serve the Emperor, not that sycophantic cultist!"
"We're people! You can't just take us!" The other scout yelled. Dartsmoth just shrugged.
"Fine. Lair it up. Be like that. Deadlords! Relieve them of their little lives."
The lead scout reacted quickly. He drew his carbine and fired at Mus, but the bullet deflected off the Deadlord's heavy plate armor. A split second later an arrow from Draco, the Deadlord that had been created from Noire, impaled itself in the man's throat. He fell to his back, and his subordinate quickly threw his hands into the air. "Waitwaitwait! We give up! We give up!"
"Excellent." Dartsmoth walked over to the man and ripped the arrow out of his throat. Lepus, the Deadlord that had been created from Morgan, applied a healing staff to the man immediately after, narrowly saving him from death. "You strapping young men work for me now. Understand? Now show me your significant discoveries."
Dartsmoth cared little about Kryczek's death, but he was interested in Cordelia's remains. E-13 had hacked her body to pieces, but her severed head was relatively intact. To the revulsion of the Grimleal scouts, Dartsmoth picked up her head and stared into it. The skin was splotchy and falling apart, and the already malformed eyes had degenerated into mush, but the rest of the head was undefiled, such that Cordelia's face was still stuck in an expression of shock and confusion. "Well, well. So this is Cordelia. The last Pegasus Knight. The last one that mattered anyways." Dartsmoth brushed her still attached red hair out of her face and ran his finger along her forehead. "Hopefully your brain is still intact enough for me to do this." Just as before, Dartsmoth was able to experience Cordelia's memories. He initially focused on the ones involving Chrom, but apparently Cordelia thought about Chrom a lot over the years. He had to concentrate to find the memories of her more recent interactions with him. Cordelia's blindness prevented him from getting any visual data, but he was able to hear everything she heard in the last moments of her life. Dartsmoth relived the attack on Nowi Falls from Cordelia's perspective, and from that he learned everything he needed to confirm his theory. Dartsmoth pulled himself back to reality and turned back to Mus. "Think fast!" He tossed Cordelia's severed head at Mus, but it just bounced off the Deadlord's armor. "Yeesh. Nothing fazes you huh?"
"W-what the hell was that?!" One of the scouts exclaimed in exasperation.
"I was experiencing her memories, and I've confirmed my theory. It was a real rip snorter of a theory too. I just knew it! Chrom was brought here, and he really didn't have any destination in mind. He only cared about protecting his allies. If he didn't care about where he ended up, then he'd go with the Arch Surg forces when they evacuated this city. Just like that we're much closer to finding him. Now we just have to check the surrounding settlements. Someone is bound to know more about where he is."