Chapter 9
"Okay, this is starting to get way out of hand," Robin sighed, pinching the skin between his eyes as he felt a migraine starting. "Galle, simmer down."
"But master-" Galle started, cutting off when Robin raised his hand for silence.
With a low growl Galle forced himself to calm down, drifting closer to Arya as Robin stepped forward.
"Well I'll be damned," Abdul laughed. "You taught the boy obedience! I am thoroughly impressed!"
"Yeah, well, I'm not," Robin stated coldly. "And I have two questions for you. One, why Galle?"
"Right, because this is the part where I tell you exactly what my plans are, yes?" Abdul sneered. "Give me a little credit, Prince! If you really must know it was easy to implicate the boy to get to you. Nothing more, nothing less."
"Funny, that usually works," Robin sighed, subtly glancing over his shoulder at the guards.
"I also know that you have been sniffing around about my dealings in Ylisse," Abdul chuckled. "While I am grateful that you dissolved the monarchy and paved the way for my kind, you also dissolved the Grimleal, which cost me a lot of money. So if you were going to ask about my trade contacts you can forget that, too. I think I'll just have you and the boy killed now and make a pretty slave out of the girl."
Robin glanced up, looking almost bored as he glared at the merchant.
"What? That wasn't my second question," he said lazily. "I was going to ask you 'if I managed to kill a literal dragon-god, what chance do you think your guards have?'"
The guards in question, already nervously shuffling around in Robin's presence, actually took a step back from fear at the tactician's confident tone.
"Stories and fabrications," Abdul said, waving a fat hand dismissively. "There's no way you or any others in your company could have killed Grima alone!"
"Oh really," Robin laughed, gesturing invitingly to the guards with an open hand. "Well then, by all means, gentlemen, you heard your boss. Have at you. But remember, they don't call me 'Godslayer' for nothing."
A few of the braver guards held their ground, but the majority shuffled back even further, some going so far as to carefully set their weapons down on the ground and back away. Robin snickered, crossing his arms and grinning at a fuming Abdul through his fringe.
"I guess we know who they fear more," he said.
"Idiots!" Abdul thundered. "Kill them or I'll collect on your collateral!"
Robin heard a sharp intake of breath from Galle before the younger man let out a mighty roar and a green whirlwind erupted from the floor beneath Abdul. The merchant leapt back, positioning his desk between them as the whirlwind blew the guards off their feet.
"Move!" Galle shouted, taking off at a run.
Robin and Arya exchanged a quick glance, confusion at the tactician's abrupt actions stalling them before a weak moan from the guards set Robin into motion. With a sigh he grabbed Arya by the wrist, pulling her along with him as they chased after Galle.
"Dammit, Galle, what the hell was that!?" Robin panted.
The younger tactician growled wordlessly, flicking his wrist and sending a deadly wind spell down a corridor as they passed it, the green-tinged blast of wind picking up the armed guards and throwing them bodily into a heap against the opposite wall as it blew his coat around. Robin followed, dragging the terrified Arya along by the wrist. The girl was quiet, but she wasn't showing any signs of a panic attack like she had before, so Robin was hopeful that she would hold together.
"Galle!" he shouted, grabbing the younger man by the shoulder and spinning him around.
Galle gave a wordless snarl, glaring up at Robin from beneath his brow. The older man barely hesitated before slapping him in the face, sending him reeling a few steps. Arya gasped behind Robin, going stiff as she watched the encounter.
"You come back to your senses yet or do I have to smack you again?" Robin asked.
Galle shook his head a few times before nodding and massaging his jaw.
"Do you know what he means by 'collect their collateral'?" Galle asked, his voice a hoarse whisper. "When a man signs on to work for Ama al-Tha they sign up their entire lives as collateral. Their families become hostages! And I've seen him do it before!"
Arya's eyes widened in shock, but Robin sadly shook his head.
"We can't help these people," he said. "Not now, anyway. We need to focus on our own goals."
"Master, these are our people!" Galle persisted. "We can't just turn our backs-"
"We are tacticians," Robin interrupted. "When I swore you in as one you gave up your ties to any one nation. I've drilled that into you since the day I found you in the desert, Galle."
Robin opened his mouth to continue, but stopped himself when the sound of booted feet and shouting from the corridor behind them reached him.
"Come on, we have to get out of here," he sighed. "This mission is a total wash."
Robin pulled Arya along behind him further up the hall, but Galle hesitated, trying to get his bearings after years of being away from the trade building. He took a deep breath, calming himself. Arin would have laughed at him getting so worked up, the way he always had.
He didn't have the outbursts any more… he had grown from that person… he just needed to calm down and think…
His eyes widened as he realized they had made their escape down Abdul's guest wing, where the most important visiting nobles and merchants were put up.
"Wait," he called. "We need to get down without using the stairs. Abdul isn't as stupid as he looks. They'll have blocked them by now."
Robin sighed, releasing Arya and stomping back to Galle. The girl silently shadowed her teacher, glancing nervously up the hall behind them.
"Make it quick, Galle," Robin said. "We're running out of time."
The younger tactician nodded before kicking open the closest door. It looked like a suite for important visitors, a plush bed sitting in one corner covered in silk surrounded by hand-carved furniture. Robin marveled at the opulence as Galle led them through the room, realizing that outfitting this room alone had probably cost more than all the furniture in his fort combined.
Galle stopped directly before the far wall and pulled a waist-height panel away to reveal a narrow hollow with a rope in the middle.
"We can use this," he explained. "All of these rooms have these dumbwaiters leading directly to the kitchens. We can bypass the stairs and go out through the basement back to the markets."
"Good idea," Robin said, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. "It looks a little tight, though. Take Arya down first and send the lift back up. Don't wait, I'll be right behind you."
Galle nodded, squatting down and shuffling into the space. Even getting two of them into the cramped dumbwaiter would be hard, but Arya was small, so they would manage. The girl hesitated until Robin gave her a gentle push in the small of her back, smiling down at her.
"Stay close to Galle and do what he says," he said kindly.
Arya nodded, crawling into the space opposite Galle. Once she was in he released the catch and slowly lowered them down with the rope, watching Robin cross the room to quietly shut the door until the lift had gone down into darkness and the older man was out of sight.
As the young tactician Mari wandered through the markets of Saiqat she felt something akin to awe at the sights and sounds around her. Never before had she been to Plegia; she had passed through it years ago when she had first joined Robin's school so many years ago. Always, at the back of her mind, had been a desire to explore, to see the world around her. In her homeland this was not something that was common, and for someone with her breeding to have left the capital to train under foreigners would have been unheard of before the Liberation War.
But now she was free to roam the world as she pleased; her education was finished, and after this mission she could ply her trade as a tactician wherever she pleased. She could see much, much more of the world than she ever could have before, starting here in Plegia.
If only, she thought with a barely perceptible sigh, she could be seeing the desert nation under happier circumstances.
"Was that a sigh, or a deep breath?" Van asked from her side. "I can hardly ever tell with you."
Mari rolled her eyes at her Ylissean friend's question as they strolled through the markets. He knew very well, after all the time they'd spent together, that she had sighed. However, she realized with a slight grin, now she was irritated at him instead of at the mission at hand. That was what Van's strongest point was; he played the fool to redirect people's negative emotions and increase morale, something that Mari could honestly say she still couldn't understand about the man.
Van huffed, linking his hands behind his head as they walked.
"I can't believe I actually miss Galle right now," he muttered. "At least he actually communicates verbally… Even if it is mostly sarcasm and abuse…"
"Believe me, young tactician, when Owain Dark tells you that sometimes words are inadequate," came another voice from further back. "Indeed, the fiery Severa can silence the loudest of men with naught but a glare, and- ow!"
The 'fiery' red-haired woman huffed and crossed her arms, having just elbowed the other man in the ribs. The fifth and final member of their team laughed and appeared between the pair, throwing an arm over their shoulders and smiling happily.
"Aw, you two are so cute!" Fae cooed. "This is why I like humans! So much fun!"
Van laughed at Severa's death glare as Owain fidgeted uncomfortably. Fae, another one that habitually played the fool, danced between them to avoid the redheaded swordswoman's ire and came alongside the two tacticians.
"You know, after so many years one would think I'd know better than to come between a couple…" she muttered with a grin.
Van glanced over his shoulder, flinching when he locked eyes with the moody Severa.
"Well, that couple, anyway," he mumbled, earning a chuckle from the manakete.
Mari was only half-listening to her companions' exchange, carefully inspecting the marketplace instead.
She was struck by just how different, yet similar, it was to Chon'sin's market streets. Most shops or stalls were simple wooden tables or even just rugs on the dirt with the merchants' goods spread out atop them. Everything was on display in the market, from tools, nails and the like to fine furs and jewelry being advertised as being from Regna Ferox. Mari cocked her head slightly when she saw this, wondering if the merchant knew that the people of Regna Ferox didn't wear jewelry.
She decided it was none of her concern, passing the stall with barely a glance. She wasn't one for pointless ornamentation, anyway.
"Ooh, shiny," she heard Fae mutter behind her as the manakete and Van lingered at the stall.
Mari glanced around, spotting Owain and Severa a little way away at a local swordsmith's stall. The blonde man was inspecting a dangerous-looking curved dagger, an innocent smile on his face. Next to him Severa was looking at a box of whetstones. She had to grin as the swordsmith tried pressuring Severa into buying a flimsy sword with a decorative hilt and she gave the poor man a look of utter contempt.
"You notice the funny looks some of these guys are giving us?" Van muttered, casually strolling up to her as if he was browsing the same stall.
Mari surreptitiously glanced around, feigning interest in the same stall as Van. There were indeed a few dirty looks being cast in their direction, not enough to be a worry but still enough to make Mari curious. She nodded, the movement a slight tilting of her chin, and Van gave her a cheery grin as he shrugged his coat off, rotating his shoulders in his plain travelling clothes before adjusting his old yellow scarf.
"Whoo, it is hot in this desert," he said at his regular volume. "Here, hold this for me while I go and find some water."
"It is probably the scarf," Mari pointed out, playing along.
Van actually hesitated, a blank look on his face before he chuckled and ran a hand through his spiky hair.
"I think someone's been spending too much time with a certain Plegian Tactician lately," he said with a knowing grin.
Before Mari could give the indignant response on the tip of her tongue Van disappeared into the closest alleyway, leaving her scowling alone at the stall with his coat. The shopkeeper, a middle-aged woman who had clearly had far too little nourishment in the last few months, looked up and gave Mari a sympathetic smile.
"Stood up, huh?" she said in a heavy Plegian accent. "Ah, men. Can't live with em, can't live without em."
Mari nodded, taking a deep breath to compose herself before crossing the road to rejoin the other three. Fae and Owain were watching as Severa was telling the swordsmith exactly what was wrong with his weapons, down to the finest detail, with barely hidden grins on their faces. The smith looked about ready to cry under Severa's verbal assault, and gave a literal sigh of relief when the red-head stopped upon noticing Mari standing alone.
"In short, this is all junk and you should be ashamed," Severa huffed, tossing the sword she was using as an example back down onto the man's counter.
She stepped out of the stall's shade and into the harsh sun with Owain in tow as Fae tried to console the stricken merchant, grinning all the while.
"Where's Van?" Severa asked, crossing her arms and sinking to a hip.
"Recon," Mari replied. "Continue blending in until he makes contact."
"Very well!" Owain said, his grin widening as he turned to Severa. "Come, my fated companion! Let us see how many more shop-keepers you can make cry before he returns!"
"That might actually be the best idea you've ever had," Severa muttered as the pair moved to another stall.
Fae approached now, watching the older Shepherds enter the shade of another stall with a thoughtful look on her face.
"You know, Severa's kinda scary," the manakete said after a moment.
Mari resisted the urge to grin, nodding once instead as they followed the other pair at a slower pace. As the back-up team they had to wait until they were needed, if they were needed at all. It was a game of patience, something that Mari had learned she would need as a tactician very early into her studies. She glanced over her shoulder as Van reappeared behind her, adjusting his scarf and frowning a little. He had barely been gone five minutes, but judging from the frown he had already found something. Without a word Mari held his coat out to him, which he accepted with a tired grin.
"Apparently there was a murder last night," he muttered, matching Mari and Fae's pace. "The last person seen talking to the victim was a young man from out of town in a long black coat. Kinda like the ones we're wearing."
"How'd they know he was from out of town?" Fae asked.
"Merchant city like this sees a lot of traffic," Van explained. "The locals would know who is and isn't from here. It's a hot topic right now, too; I barely even had to try to find someone talking about it. This might not bode well for us."
Mari nodded in agreement, a cold sense of fear settling in the pit of her stomach. She glanced up at the Ama al-Tha trading post towering above the other nearby buildings, where Galle and Sir Robin were currently. As they wandered through the market Mari steered the small group to linger closer to the bridge to the massive edifice.
Something was giving her a bad feeling. And if Sir Robin had taught her anything, 'listen to your gut feelings' was chief among them.
Arya shuddered in the darkness as the lift descended, Galle grunting a little as he carefully lowered them as smoothly as he could. The only sound in the small shaft was the older tactician's labored breathing and the rasp of rope sliding through his hands. Arya jumped a little when her shoulder pressed up against the rough stone shaft, dragging a little against the wall with their descent. The whole dumbwaiter shifted, and Galle let out a little groan.
"Please… hold still…" he grunted quietly. "This thing… is really hard… to balance… this sucks… oh this sucks… argh this sucks so… bad…"
With one final grunt the dumbwaiter opened into a mostly-deserted kitchen, a few surprised servants looking up in confusion as Galle and Arya climbed out.
"We can't go out the way we came in," Galle groaned, shaking his hands out. "We should be able to get into the old storm drains that run beneath the island, though. C'mon."
"Wait!" Arya said. "What about Sir Robin?"
"He said not to wait," Galle said over his shoulder. "Now c'mon, keep up."
Arya silently followed behind him, hesitating only long enough to grab one of the kitchen knives and tuck it into her belt as a contingency. Galle confidently led them to a doorway at the back of the kitchen which opened to a set of stairs. Without an ounce of hesitation he started down them, mumbling a quick fire spell and illuminating the half-empty cool-room beneath the kitchen as Arya shut the door behind them.
As she looked around the small and dimly lit room Arya felt familiar claustrophobic panic rising in her chest.
There was no way out. They were trapped. She looked at the older tactician, surprised to find him so calm.
Galle just stopped for a moment, looking at the walls before walking up to one and placing his hand flat against it. He ran the hand along the wall for a few paces before knocking on it with his knuckles. As the older Plegian did this Arya did her best to calm down and fight back the panic and adrenaline. Clearly Galle had a plan, and she would need to trust him here. She had already gone to pieces once before on a mission, and she wasn't about to do so again on her first official one as a Shepherd. With a few deep breaths she forced the panic back down. Not dissipating it, but pushing it to a far corner of her mind so she could focus again.
"Right, this might be loud. Take a breath and cover your ears," Galle said, stepping back from the wall.
Arya stepped back, doing as Galle instructed while he lifted his hand and drew back his sleeve, the small flame winking out and leaving them standing in the darkness. There was another momentary spike of panic before Galle muttered something Arya assumed was a spell, and with a rush of displaced air and a sound like a thunderclap the wall he'd been inspecting crashed outwards. Arya winced, struggling to breathe as all the air came rushing back into the room with a burst of freshly disturbed stone dust.
"There's no way they didn't hear that," Galle coughed, waving the grey cloud out of his face. "We've got to move."
The pair stepped into a stone hallway, dimly illuminated by regularly spaced torches. Every few meters in both directions there was a door, and at either end of the hall there was a staircase, one going up and one going down. Galle set off towards the one going down at a good clip, Arya hurrying to keep up with him.
"W-where are we going?" she asked.
"Down," Galle responded. "The island is a solid rock, which they carved three floors of basements into. On the bottom one is a nifty little contraption to keep the basements from flooding. We can use it to get into the storm drains and climb back up into the marketplace. We're also going to break it. I always wanted to break it."
"How d-do you know?" Arya stammered, struggling to keep up with the taller man's pace.
"Because I helped build it," Galle grunted, going quiet.
They continued to descend in silence, Arya following nervously as Galle led them through a labyrinth of uniform stone hallways and corridors carved from the sandy-colored rock itself. So far there had been no sign of pursuit, but Arya knew that wouldn't last. Maybe Sir Robin was distracting the guards up on the higher floors so they could escape? It seemed like the kind of thing that a hero would do…
"Wait," Galle said, coming to a stop. "Something's not right."
Arya stepped forward to come alongside him and see what he'd found. Galle had stopped in front of a bricked up section of wall.
"There should have been a staircase here," he muttered, stepping forward.
With another muttered incantation he held up his hand as a small flame floated just above his fingers, inspecting the wall. He knocked at it a few times and pressed his ear against the bricks before stepping back and extinguishing the fire. Without warning this time he pulled his sleeve back again and began chanting for his spell.
In the dim torchlight Arya finally got her first good look at Galle's bare arm, and she let out a gasp at the sight. His forearm was covered in small black text and sigils, as if he'd copied a page of his spellbook and tattooed it onto his arm. Arya had only ever heard of people getting tattoos before, a Feroxi tradition that her own people usually scoffed at and uniformly scorned. But the fact that Galle was Plegian clearly meant that it was useful in some way. He noticed her scrutiny and grinned a little in the shadowy corridor.
"It's easier than carrying a spellbook around all the time," he explained.
Before Arya could enquire further Galle cast his spell, blowing the bricks back into the sealed stairwell. He gave a hiss, shaking his arm as blood began to run in a small trickle from near his elbow.
"That's the downside, though," he said, pulling his sleeve back down. "There's no spellbook for the spell to consume, so it takes the ink out of my arm instead."
"Does it… hurt?" she asked as they began to descend to the next floor.
"No, the blood's just for show," Galle scoffed as he walked.
They reached the bottom of the staircase and looked around another darkened hallway, Galle giving a tired sigh as he lit another fire above his fingers.
"You know, we used to keep these catacombs well-lit," he grumbled as he started walking. "Is torch oil really that expensive these days? C'mon, the pump should be right… through… okay. Wow."
As they rounded a corner Galle was shocked into silence, Arya following suit. The cavernous room, lit only by Galle's spell and easily covering half of the floor they were on, was dark and stank of waste and sweat. Lined up in neat rows throughout the space were simple wooden pallets with a few rough sheets thrown about for some base attempt at comfort. The worst part, though, were the terrified expressions of the dozens of wretched and terrified men, women and children chained to the walls or ground near the rows of pallets. Thin, emaciated limbs scarred from the shackles and flesh gone pallid from so long away from the sun, fear-crazed looks at the two intruders as those chained collectively shied away from them as far as their shackles would allow…
It was a dungeon. Abdul had turned the largest storage space under his trading post into a dungeon.
"What in Grima's name has Abdul done?" Galle muttered darkly.
Arya stepped backwards and clutched at her head, her breath coming in small, harsh gasps as her fear finally bubbled up from the depths of her mind and overwhelmed her.
The darkness… The fear…
It was like being back at the Rommel's warehouse all over again, only on a larger scale.
They would catch her, chain her again and treat her like an animal. She could hear the laughing of the guards, feel their blows already, and see their leering faces in her mind's eye…
It was too much for her.
"N-no," she mumbled, shaking her head. "Not a-again… No… no!"
"Arya get it together or Grima help me I swear I'll leave you here!" Galle snapped over his shoulder as he stepped forward.
Her tear-filled gaze shot up, eyes wide as they met Galle's. The pain in his own eyes was enough to silence her, and with a few more shuddering breaths she grew slightly calmer, shaking uncontrollably but mostly under control as she inched toward the other Plegian, holding her arms tight around her own body.
"Someone tell me what the hell is going on here!" Galle shouted, his voice echoing around the silent stone room.
There was no response at first, but one of the people chained towards the center of the room, a middle-aged woman so thin she was little more than skin and bones, stood slowly.
"We are… property of Ama al-Tha. Slaves," she spat. "Please. I… I don't even care who you are. Please, help us."
"We can't," Galle said emotionlessly, without an ounce of his earlier hesitation.
A smattering of disappointed muttering and more than a few sobs spread out around them before Galle spoke again.
"We can't help you right now," he ground out through clenched teeth. "But if we get out of here we can send help. Answer me quickly. Where are you from?"
Arya looked up at Galle, his clenched fists trembling at his sides. She'd never seen him like this before, and it was enough to momentarily distract her from her own fear.
"Does it matter?" one of the other slaves asked dejectedly.
"I need to know which kingdom to send to crush Ama al-Tha," Galle snapped.
The woman standing nodded slowly.
"My name is Aldeth," she said, her voice thick. "I was taken from Ylisse. A small village in the shouthlands. Many of us were. Some are from as far east as Jagen, though."
"All Ylissean? Taken by who?" Galle asked.
"Yes. The… The Alvin Trading company," she muttered, looking down.
"For what?" Galle snapped.
"W-whatever they wanted us for," Aldeth stammered. "We… we signed contracts to work in the vineyards, and then they sent us-"
Every set of eyes in the room glanced up towards the barred iron door as the sound of hurried footsteps and shouting reached them, echoing around the room. A feral, predatory grin spread to Galle's face as he went perfectly still, the air practically crackling around him. Arya had to resist the urge to shrink back from the tactician.
"Perfect," he growled, still smiling as he started stomping towards the other end of the room.
He glanced back at Arya, motioning she follow him with a jerk of his head.
"P-please! At least take the children with you!" Aldeth pleaded desperately.
Galle snarled wordlessly, turning to Arya.
"I'll get the keys, you take the five youngest and drag them with us if you have to," he spat, taking off for the door again.
The guards were closer now, torchlight throwing shadows across the room as the men charged into the corridor ahead of Galle. With another wordless roar he extended his hand, a gale of green wind-scythes dancing through the bars accompanied with a mist of blood as his coat's sleeve and the arm beneath were shredded by the release of energy. The guards not cut down by the spell were thrown back, the door following them with a wrenching screech of steel-on-stone.
Galle panted, sagging and gripping his arm as blood started to run down it at a greater rate. He ignored the panicked cries of the slaves and stomped through the guards, retrieving a ring of keys off of one of the bodies and throwing them back to Arya before stooping to retrieve one of the scimitars the fallen guards had dropped.
"I'll secure the exit," he said. "Just the youngest, got it? Leave the keys with Aldeth. We're out of time."
Arya nodded, fumbling a little with the ring of keys as she glanced around.
"Arya," Galle called softly.
She glanced up, blinking back tears. The older tactician gave her a confident nod and a slight grin.
"I'm counting on you here," he said before turning on his heel and stomping back up the corridor.
The girl stopped for a moment, feeling a new sense of calmness wash over her at Galle's words. She blinked a few times before steeling herself and burying her fear, a little more prepared now.
"T-the children," Arya asked, turning to the slaves.
"Over there," Aldeth moaned, pointing shakily to one corner.
The young Plegian girl nodded, struggling to keep it together long enough to get the children out.
The Ama al-Tha market was in an uproar by the time Mari and her little squad crossed the bridge, merchants hastily closing up their carts and packing away their goods as guards rushed back and forth. As soon as they had reached the stone bridge it had been apparent something had gone wrong from the way the guards were behaving, and Mari urged them across with no further heed to their cover. One such guard raced up to the Shepherds as they jogged into the square, the man pale and out of breath beneath his patchy beard.
"I'm sorry, but the market is closed due to-"
Whatever excuse he was about to present was lost as Mari's fist lashed out, cracking squarely into his jaw and dropping him cold.
"We know, thanks," Van said pleasantly as he stepped over the man.
A squad of similarly dressed and distressed guards rushing through the market saw the exchange and hesitated before turning to confront the Shepherds.
"Spread out!" Mari ordered. "Flank them and find the-"
"Death from above!"
The Shepherds froze as a gust of wind blew downwards, kicking up a cloud of dust as a figure leapt from one of the highest windows of the towering trade-center, directly into a knot of the scurrying guards. All of the guards were thrown from their feet, Robin casually stepping over them as he dusted his coat off, grinning.
"Naga I love doing that," he muttered.
"Master!" Owain shouted, rushing forward. "You thought to begin your assault without Owain Dark's aid!?"
"Not by choice," Robin shrugged.
The older tactician glanced at Mari and quirked a brow.
"Sorry to steal your thunder, but do you mind if I take command?"
"Please do, Sir Robin," Mari said, bowing from the waist.
"Please don't bow," he sighed, running a hand through his hair and turning to the Shepherds.
"Arya and Galle went down," he declared, ignoring the pandemonium of the marketplace around them. "They're either still on the first floor, or down in the sub-levels. Standard extraction scenario. Fae? I want some noise."
"Noise, coming up," the manakete grinned, stepping back a little.
With a gust of wind and a burst of green magical flames she transformed, growing until she towered over three-times the size of the other Shepherds, her face elongating and becoming a reptilian maw filled with razor-sharp teeth. Giving her wings and scales a shake she sighed, a small puff of green flames escaping her maw as she did.
"Been too long since I transformed last," Fae said happily.
"Just don't turn the building to rubble," Robin chuckled.
Fae nodded once, her reptilian head bobbing up and down before she took to the air with one great beat of her massive wings. Van and Owain both shielded their faces, Severa tactically positioning herself behind the blonde man to avoid the down-draft. As soon as Fae was in the air she let out a great draconian roar, followed by very human-like laughter as she circled around the trading center. The merchants and guards still in the market courtyard looked up in terror, screaming and redoubling their efforts to escape.
"The rest of us are going inside," Robin said. "Two squads. Mari, you and Van hold this courtyard. Should be easy with Fae flying support. Owain, you and Severa are with me."
"Sir," Mari called.
Robin glanced back as the younger tactician pulled a smaller blade from her belt, a tanto from Chon'sin, and threw it to him. He caught it one handed and grinned, tucking it into his own belt.
"Thanks," he said. "I'll bring it right back."
Galle grunted, leaning heavily with his good shoulder against the corridor wall just outside the pump room. Arya was inside, working carefully to remove the outer-casing so they could escape. Unfortunately, Galle couldn't destroy it now that he knew there were people trapped down here; it would cause the entire basement to flood, probably all three floors. And he couldn't do the work himself with just one arm, leaving him standing guard and waiting for more of Ama al-Tha's guards to show up.
The scimitar he'd appropriated lay on the ground near his feet as he held his left arm, the self-inflicted injuries reducing the limb to dead-weight until he could get Brady to take a look at it. He was afraid to look at it, honestly; it didn't feel like there was much arm left.
He laughed self-depreciatingly, carefully running his fingertips over the furrows left in his limb from his casting. It was meant to be a last-ditch contingency, the tattooed elwind spell, but he'd lost his temper and used it in the heat of the moment. Now not only was he going to have to wait for the arm to heal and then re-ink it all over again, he had also lost a significant amount of blood without having anything to bind the injury with.
Worst of all, he'd ruined his coat. The damn thing had been expensive, and now it was reduced to a one-armed, blood-stained leather rag.
Should've known today would go this way, he thought with a self-depreciating chuckle.
As soon as he'd walked across that bridge Galle should have known that this day would go arse-up, but Sir Robin had turned him into an optimist. He should have known that Abdul would want to get some sort of revenge against him; the man could surely hold a grudge. He should have known that he was being watched in the city, and any old contacts would be put into danger. Hell, he shouldn't have even been surprised at the whole human-trafficking thing. This was the direction Ama al-Tha had been heading in back when he'd left them, and that had been years ago. In hindsight this wasn't surprising in the least.
Galle shook his head a little. No point in dwelling on things now while they were in danger. There would be plenty of time to beat himself up over it when they got out.
"How you doing in there, kid?" he called, trying to distract himself.
"I'm working on it!" Arya shouted back.
The older Plegian gave a little snort. Her voice was a lot stronger that Galle had been expecting, given her little panic attack earlier. She was clearly getting better at controlling her fear, or at least stifling it. Galle just hoped that she didn't learn to control it the way he had, killing his emotions. Having something to focus on probably helped her to put it out of her mind.
Galle snickered a little as he turned, his back sliding slowly down the wall until he hit the floor with a pained groan, leaving a smeared trail of blood on the wall behind him.
"Urgh, I hate this damn city," he groaned, leaning his head back against the cool stone.
The sound of rushing boots pulled Galle back to reality. Blinking himself back to consciousness and deciding not to dwell on the fact he'd passed out the tactician pulled himself back to his feet, gripping his borrowed scimitar in a one-handed stance he'd learned from Mari. The sword was poorly-balanced for the stance, but he didn't have a lot of other options.
"Arya, hurry the hell up!" Galle called, stepping to block the doorway to the pump room.
"S-shut up I'm working on it!" she snapped.
Galle risked a glance over his shoulder. She'd almost gotten the cover off, and was struggling with undoing the last of the bolts by hand. They didn't have any tools, so she was tackling the bolts with nothing but her bare hands; fortunately they weren't tight to deal with the changing pressure of the water, but there were a lot of them. The children they had decided to save were cowering in the corner of the room furthest from the door, clinging desperately to each other and looking at Galle's back with so much hope in their eyes it made the young tactician sick.
It was a lot of pressure, but he'd trained for these situations. He wasn't the same helpless kid that stood back and silently watched any more.
"Well work faster!" he snapped back, stepping further into the corridor.
Without the spell on his arm he was reduced to mere conjurer's tricks on the magic-front. His ruined arm was still bleeding, too. Realistically speaking he could probably hold them back long enough for Arya and the kids to get clear of the pump and seal it after them.
Never figured myself for the heroic last stand type, he thought to himself as the first of the guards charged into the corridor.
Galle let his training take over, holding his injured arm close as he spun and leveled his sword, following the lateral strike with a series of spinning round-house kicks that forced the guards back out of the corridor. He stumbled a little, catching himself and hopping back before any of the guards could take advantage of the opening. Pain radiated from his arm, but Galle ignored it as he glared at the surprised guards.
He brought his sword up, parrying as one of the braver guards advanced and rained down blows on the wounded man. Galle desperately threw his wounded hand up, a small flame barely more than sparks hitting the guard in the face. With an alarmed shout the man stumbled backwards and Galle ran him through the chest.
Pain exploded through his ribs as one of the guards buried his lance in Galle's flank beneath his sword-arm, and he dropped to one knee. With a wheeze Galle closed his eyes, the scimitar falling from nerveless fingers as the young Plegian man prepared for the inevitable.
He'd fought against his fate long enough, but in the end it appeared that Saiqat would claim him after all.
"Get away from him!"
Galle weakly looked up at the woman's shout, numerous bodies flooding the corridor and knocking him back as the slaves, led by Aldeth, surged forward and over-powered the guards. Strong, thin hands pulled Galle back, Arya's grimacing face above him as she pulled him towards the pump room.
With one last coughing chuckle Galle lost consciousness, marveling at the fierce look on the girl's face. She had it when it counted, at the very least.
Galle woke again with a cough, his throat parched and burning as his eyes slowly adjusted to the weak light. Blinking he realized he was looking at the night sky and lying on some carefully laid out blankets with his coat put over top of him. His injured arm was tightly bound in thick linen bandages, red stains still seeping through at various points.
"Stay still," a familiar, gruff voice commanded. "Ya lost a lotta blood. Yer body's gonna be weak fer a while."
Galle grinned, nodding once and coughing again as Brady held a waterskin to his lips.
"How long… was I out?" he managed to ask once he finished drinking.
"Most of the afternoon," another voice said from his other side.
Galle glanced over a little, seeing an exhausted-looking Arya sitting next to him, her knees tucked up under her chin. Brady gave Galle a little shove in the shoulder, frowning.
"Kid pulled a muscle in her shoulder haulin' yer sorry carcass up that shaft," he said.
"You're really heavy," Arya muttered in agreement.
"Well excuse me for living," Galle chuckled, slowly sitting up.
Arya moved to support him, her palm in the middle of his back holding him up as he surveyed his surroundings. The Plegian tactician's good mood at surviving vanished as he looked around Ama al-Tha's abandoned marketplace.
"So what happened?" he asked sullenly.
"The prisoners overwhelmed the guards while we were escaping," Arya supplied. "A lot of them… didn't make it. Aldeth… she was one of them."
Galle closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. She had been brave, had deserved better than that. Now she was just one more name to add to the list of people's blood on his hands.
"And Sir Robin?" he asked.
"The Boss and the others're all inside, cleanin' the place out," Brady sighed. "Soon as he found those poor people in the basement Robin flipped his top and led the Shepherds against the guards personally. Luce's just as pissed. Feel kinda sorry for that Abdul guy when they get their hands on 'im."
Galle nodded, the movement sending pain shooting up his side.
"Arya, help me up," he said, positioning one foot underneath himself as he threw an arm over the girl's shoulders.
"Are you sure you should be up yet?" Fae's familiar voice asked from above.
Galle blinked in confusion at the strange, flanged resonance to her voice and the unusual direction it came from. He turned and glanced up over his shoulder, actually jumping a little at the dragon's maw hovering about a foot behind him. Fae was perched, or rather lazing to describe it more accurately, atop the arch at the end of the bridge to the rest of the city, leaning her long draconian neck down to smile at Arya and Galle. If a dragon could actually smile.
"He's stubborn as everyone else I treat, apparently," Brady huffed, sitting down atop a nearby crate.
"Uh… Fae?" Galle asked, still shocked.
"Yup," the dragon responded, grinning with massive fangs as she closed her eyes happily.
"Fae's been standing guard out here," Arya explained softly. "Any of the guards or servants that came out surrendered as soon as they saw her. Gaius was leading the city guard in arresting them until the Prime Minister can respond to the incident."
Galle nodded, lifting his arm off her shoulder and standing on his own again.
"You seem pretty level-headed right now," he said, his voice coming out a soft grunt. "You doin' okay?"
"Too tired to deal right now," Arya admitted with a slight smile. "W-what about you? You looked… pretty ready to die back there."
"This city hasn't killed me yet," Galle scoffed. "I'd like to get out of here before it tries again, though. So who's where?"
"Like I said, Gaius 'nd Panne're workin' with the city guard to lock up the Ama al-Tha people 'til they can figure out who's guilty of what," Brady sighed, looking as tired as the others. "Anna took the prisoners from the basement to her Aunt's place. Now that yer awake I'ma head over there now and give 'em the once over. Robin 'nd Luce're leading a couple of the others on one last sweep. I think Owain's still with 'em, and Van and-"
"Galle!"
Brady was cut off by the shout as six figures emerged from the building, Mari breaking away from the group and sprinting to where they were waiting near the arch. She slowed when she got closer, ignoring the surprised looks from the others at her overt display of emotions as she came right up to Galle, looking him up and down before carefully enveloping him in a gentle embrace and resting her head against his shoulder.
"You… are okay," she said softly.
"Yeah," Galle sighed, returning her embrace with his good arm. "I'm fine."
"Oh dear sweet Naga when did this happen!?" Robin practically shouted with excitement.
"Dear, calm down," Lucina laughed, shaking her head and grinning a little as she sheathed Falchion.
"Aw, they're so cute together," Van cooed.
"Aren't they?" Fae asked, her draconian head tilting to one side in the same fashion she did when she asked a question in her human form.
Galle sighed into Mari's hair as he felt her freeze against him, realizing what she'd done.
"Guess we can't keep it quiet any more, huh?" he muttered with a grin.
A few days after the raid on the Ama al-Tha trading center Arya sat studying in the apartment that the Shepherds were sharing at the Annas' trading post, looking at the words on the pages in front of her but not really absorbing any of it.
A strange sense of calm had come over her since the raid. It was hard to describe for her, but the fear that had so long been her constant companion was… while not entirely gone it was still greatly receded. Something had changed inside her during the 'raid', as Sir Robin had begun calling it. A feeling of confidence after surviving and escaping had settled over her. She was still quiet and awkward around the others, but… for the first time in her life she wasn't as afraid any more. It was liberating in its own way, and confidence inspiring as well. The simple knowledge that she didn't have to go back to the old way of life she had led-
Arya glanced up as Galle shifted on the nearby day-bed, rolling onto his side with a grunt and presenting her with his back.
He had been confined to quarters until Brady finished with his healing, the priest working himself to the bone over the last few days with the prisoners they had saved from the Ama al-Tha complex to the point where Galle had simply opted to wait until he was done with their treatment rather than tax them further.
The prisoners that Arya had helped save; Sir Robin had been adamant about making sure she fully grasped the role she had played in their rescue. It was small, but he insisted it was something to be proud of. The feeling of pride from helping someone like that, Arya had to admit, was pretty nice.
"Shouldn't you be studying?" Galle asked, not looking up from the cushions he was facing.
"H-how can you tell I'm not?" she asked haltingly.
"I can hear you turning the pages," Galle sighed, sitting up. "Or rather I can hear you not turning the pages."
Arya wilted guiltily, holding the book up to her nose to hide herself and her shame from his sight.
"Hey, I don't care, I already learned the stuff," Galle pointed out.
Arya nodded, lowering the book a little.
"How are you feeling?" she asked quietly.
"Like I got stabbed," Galle groaned, running a hand down his face and staring off at nothing.
Arya carefully closed the book and set it aside, getting up and walking to the small side table with a pitcher of water on it and pouring two cups. She handed one to the surly tactician before returning to her seat and studying him intently. Galle sighed, staring at the water in his cup before draining it in one go and setting the empty cup on the floor.
"We got anything stronger?" he asked deadpan.
"W-why?" Arya asked. "Are you in pain? Sh-should I get Brady and-"
"No, I'm fine, forget I asked," Galle sighed, leaning back on the day-bed.
Galle had been through hell in the last few days. A hell which had, quite frankly, started from the moment he set foot back in Saiqat. He'd lost one of his oldest friends, he'd been injured, and his relationship with Mari had been made public knowledge.
"I'm fine," he repeated, glancing out the window.
But for all of that he had a new sense of closure on his old life. There was nothing tying him to it any more. Abdul was going to hang for his crimes, or at least rot in some dungeon somewhere. Ama al-Tha was going to be broken up, and its assets and contracts auctioned off under the watchful eye of the Merchant's Guild. In fact Anna's aunt, the Anna matriarch, was supposedly overseeing the buy-out herself. Arin had received a proper funeral, and his family had been recompensed with Ama al-Tha's blood-money. In fact, all of Ama al-Tha's staff were being paid out and released from their servitude contracts. Even if Abdul got off, now he'd be just as poor as anyone else now.
And as a bonus Arya had even gone back and broken the pump in the trading center's basement. When Galle had found out about that he'd laughed so hard he'd re-opened his wounds.
Everything that Galle had helped build in this city was gone now, or would be soon. There wasn't anything tying him to the past any more.
He grinned a little as he thought of Mari, so serious all the time, probably out with Van and the others patrolling with the guards to help prevent civil unrest now that one of the biggest powers in Plegia was toppled. He glanced over slightly at where Arya was still fidgeting with her cup, clearly still awkward. But the kid had grown; he could see it in her eyes.
"I'm… fine," Galle said a third time, a small smile rising unbidden to his lips.
The past was behind him now, and everything was dragging him into the future, and he could finally focus on their mission to stop the Rommels.
In the distance he could see the Ama al-Tha trading center, still sitting out on the lake. But for some reason the building didn't hold the same sense of permeating dread it used to for him.
He was free. At last, he was finally free of his past, and while the future looked busy, from where he was sitting it also looked bright.
AN2016: First chapter of 2016! Or last of 2015, depending on your geographic location!
Raggle-flaggle-writer's-block… Sorry about the long wait. This chapter would have been done sooner, but I started playing Steins;Gate and, well, we've all seen what happens when I start playing a VN in the past… Word to the wise; if you're an ending whore like me go for Mayuri's ending first. I found it to be lackluster, especially because I did it last. Aaaaaand then I finally sat down to finish Dragon Age Inquisition, and I was done for another week. Freaking side-quests… AND THEN I got Tales of Zestiria for Christmas and… urgh. So many games, so little time.
You know, when I started this story a year ago I intended to have it finished by now. At first I was a little disappointed in myself. But I've since come to terms with it. I lost a lot of readers when I pulled the story, though I'm sure I'll make the numbers back in the end. But it's not about numbers, it's about the story and this story is going to be a whole lot better than it was before. Or so I hope. It's gotten a lot darker lately, but I'm kinda pulling it together now.
On a sadder note, I am mourning the passing of one of the last truly great metal front-men, Lemmy of Motörhead. At least their last album was a good one. Time to crank it in tribute.
Remember I'm doing a podcast? CAB Anime & Gaming, new episodes every second Friday! Check us out on iTunes and Soundcloud! And yes, I still end every episode with 'Nagaspeed'.
Stay safe this New Year, guys, and happy 2016. Thanks for sticking with me! Nagaspeed!