Chapter 12
In Themis, Idallia let out a sigh as she leaned back in her favorite chair. It was only late in the morning now, of which day she wasn't sure. Ever since she had begun subtly moving her operation to Silva in Regna Ferox the Themis Villa and trading post had been running on a skeleton crew, meaning she had to work doubly hard to keep anyone from realizing what she was doing. Honestly, by this point she had hoped that Maris would be helping her a little with the business, but if he was so interested in sitting in his dark room and brooding…
She rolled out her neck a little, resting her eyes. She'd barely slept for a week now, and it was beginning to take a toll. She had caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror the previous day, and in her opinion it was getting hard to tell who looked worse between her and Maris. Her skin was sallow and her eyes sunken, circled by heavy bags. Her hair had been a mess, in desperate need of some maintenance and a cut, and she was too tired to do anything about it. In short, she looked nothing like the Southern Merchant Council representative of Themis should.
With another sigh she thought back to her meeting with the mage Clarus.
"There's nothing I can do. Yet. Give me time, Lady Idallia, and I may be able to cure your brother."
With that cryptic sentence the mage had left, leaving nothing behind except some half-hearted muttered thanks for her hospitality.
"Useless mage," Idallia spat, massaging her temples.
She hated mages, simply on principle. They tampered with forces that were beyond the understanding of mortals, in her opinion. And now look what one had done to her brother!
The door to her office opened, revealing a haggard-looking Hin'rath carrying a plate of tea and biscuits for her. The Chon'sinian clerk had been working double and triple shifts in the trading post, trying to keep things running smoothly. All of the senior staff had been sent north already to set up the new Trading Post in Silva, as well as most of the housekeeping staff to prepare the Rommels' lodgings. Meaning, of course, that Hin'rath was singlehandedly running everything, as well as running himself into the ground. When Idallia had confronted the man about this he had waved her off, assuring her he would cope for the last few weeks and then take a break once they were safe in Regna Ferox, but until then…
"Your morning tea, Lady Idallia," he said with a slight bow as he entered the room.
Idallia didn't miss the way that the platter balanced atop his hand wobbled with his bow, but chose not to bring it up. Instead, she pushed the purchase receipts and consignment notes on her desk aside to make space for the tray.
"Won't you join me, Hin'rath?" she asked. "I'm sure that the trading post can wait for a few more minutes."
The thin clerk blinked a few times, uncertainty clouding his features as he poured a cup of fragrant tea for his mistress. After a few moments he nodded, pouring a second and perching on one of the chairs opposite her desk.
This alone was testament to how exhausted Hin'rath was. Usually he would have politely declined, but he clearly needed the caffeine in the tea, and he knew it, too. His very form dripped exhaustion, and he was clearly nearing the edge of his limits.
"I appreciate your hard work these last few weeks," Idallia said after a moment of silence. "I know they have been hard on you. But truly, we could not have done this without your efforts."
"Your words honor me, my lady," Hin'rath said graciously.
Idallia smiled a little at the man's modesty. It was nice to still have a calming presence around her, a voice of reason. Usually this was a role that Maurice could fill for her, too; the gruff old soldier's easy attitude and lop-sided grin always had a way of cheering her up, but he and his men were busy ensuring the safety of the caravans moving north.
"In all honesty I have found the last few weeks to be… trying," he admitted slowly.
"Once we get to Regna Ferox you can take a vacation," Idallia laughed. "I know I'll be taking one. It will be nice to have the entire housekeeping staff back again so you're not so over-worked, too."
Hin'rath nodded, a small grin playing at the edges of his mouth.
"It is my job," he shrugged. "My purpose. I would not dream of shirking my duties to you, my lady. Speaking of which, there is much to be done. Until Sir Alvin's people inform me of the amount of wine they're shipping from this harvest I must prepare for the worst. I will return for the tray later. Please excuse me."
With that the clerk rose and left the room, still moving like a shadow despite his apparent exhaustion. Idallia smiled a little as she continued to sip from her teacup, the fragrant liquid warming its way down to her very core and giving her a slight boost in energy. With a resigned sigh the merchant pushed the tray to the edge of her desk and returned to her work reconciling the account for the latest shipment of goods from Jagen.
She continued to work for another few moments before there was a hurried knock at her door. Hin'rath was the only one that had leave to disturb her right now, but usually his knock was more composed, and usually he entered as soon as he knocked.
"Enter," Idallia called, a slight tingling of fear shooting up her spine.
The clerk slowly opened the door, bowing low before meeting his mistress' gaze.
"You have… a visitor, my lady," he said, his tone strained.
"Unless it's someone important like the Exalt or the High Magistrate then send them away," Idallia huffed. "You of all people know how busy we are right now-"
"Well, then we are in luck," an arching, noble voice said.
Idallia froze as a woman she had only seen from a distance stepped into the doorway. High Magistrate Maribelle of Themis; daughter of the previous Duke, cousin of the current one, and first female magistrate in Ylissean history, who also held numerous ties to the Exalt's family itself. She was even a hero of the Plegian and Valmese wars, a decorated cavalryman that had ridden with the Ylissean Knights during all three conflicts.
Her long blonde hair was styled in two drills hanging down over her shoulders and onto the chest of her robes of office, a look that had become increasingly popular among the noble-circles of late. There was a bored frown set on her perfect face as she stepped into the room, Hin'rath stepping aside and silently slipping out behind her. As Hin'rath left Idallia caught sight of a pair of armed and armored Themisian knights flanking the door, the morning sun glinting off their heavy white plates.
"I apologize for interrupting your business. I would ask why it is you are so busy, but that is not why I am here," Maribelle said, her tone carefully neutral. "I have come to speak with you about your… elder brother, I believe he is?"
Idallia swallowed and nodded, expending all of her effort into maintaining the smiling merchant's mask she had worked for years to craft.
"Oh? What seems to be the problem, High-Magistrate?" she asked lightly. "I am sorry to say that my dearest brother has not been well lately and has been shut up in his room to recover for quite some time now. Ah, please, take a seat. Shall I call Hin'rath to bring some refreshments?"
Maribelle nodded stiffly, carefully perching on the edge of one of the two chairs facing Idallia. Her poise and posture were perfect, the merchant noted; a far cry from her own current sorry state.
"I appreciate the thought, but that will not be necessary. Can you tell me what afflicts your brother?" the magistrate asked.
"He is merely struck with a case of melancholy, Magistrate," Idallia said, smiling what she hoped was an embarrassed smile. "He was a Knight, you see. But he has aged, and is not quite the warrior he used to be. I fear that this knowledge has hit him hard, and he does not know what to do with himself."
"He does not like to play at being a merchant?" Maribelle asked.
"It is a very strenuous lifestyle, as you can see," Idallia chuckled. "May I ask you why the High-Magistrate herself has taken an interest in my brother?"
The blonde woman shifted a little, smiling her own fake smile.
"Your family has done much to return prosperity to Themis, Lady Idallia," Maribelle explained. "Not to mention that you are a member of the Southern Council of Merchants. The thought of sending one of my underlings to speak with you and your sibling did not sit well with me after all you have done for this city."
Idallia smiled serenely, but inside she was panicking.
"So what is it that you wished to speak to my brother of, High Magistrate?" she asked, feigning ignorance.
Maribelle shifter a little in her seat, her face becoming a frown of distaste at the mere thought.
"There have been a string of murders," she said eventually. "Whole faming hamlets in Themisian territory, wiped out at night, the corpses left to rot. Not even the women and children were spared. The city is scared, and looking for someone to blame. I am surprised you have not heard of this, Lady Idallia."
"Yes, we have been… very busy," the merchant said. "As horrible as this turn of events is, what makes you think we had any involvement in these murders?"
Maribelle gave her a strange, piercing look before continuing.
"I came to speak with you because many of the families either had members that worked for you or were small suppliers for your business ventures. And you truly knew nothing of this?"
Idallia suppressed a shudder as she smiled and shook her head. She needed to get rid of the magistrate, before she slipped up and gave something away while she was so fatigued.
"Unfortunately, High Magistrate, my operation has long since grown beyond the level where I am familiar with every single nuance of it," she said, reaching quickly for an excuse. "I will do some investigating of my own, have my people follow what leads they can, and offer my full cooperation with your own investigation. I will also speak to my brother once he is well again, and have him organize a meeting with you at his earliest possible convenience. Now, you must excuse me, Lady Maribelle, but as I have stated I am incredibly busy at present. Hin'rath will show you out."
"Of course," the Magistrate said, smiling icily as she rose. "We appreciate your cooperation in these matters, Idallia of house Rommel. Thank you again for your time."
The merchant resisted the urge to let out a sigh of relief as the younger woman made her way for the door, hesitating as her hand hovered over the knob.
"You say your operation is busy," Maribelle said slowly, glancing over her shoulder. "Yet I have noticed that the villa feels… surprisingly empty. Almost as if you are busy because there is no one here."
"Of course, High Magistrate," Idallia laughed. "Long have I felt that I needed to increase my staff. Perhaps I should have done so before this rush hit us, but there is no time to train anyone new now."
Maribelle let out a small, thoughtful noise before finally opening the door.
"Good day, Lady Idallia," she said. "Thank you again for your time."
As the door closed Idallia let out the breath she'd been holding, sagging in her seat as the adrenaline left her a shaking mess. With trembling hands she poured herself another cup of tea, wincing when she realized it had long gone cold. With a hitched sob she practically threw the cup back onto the tray, taking a shuddering breath to try and calm down.
"Brother, what have you done?" she whispered weakly, resting her head in her hands.
"Quite the little party you have following you around now," Tharja commented.
"Yeah, how you guys move so quietly is beyond me," Henry cackled. "And I really, really want to know."
Robin grinned and shrugged in response.
"What can I say? Subtlety was never either of your strong suits."
Henry burst into laughter while Tharja's face broke into a slight grin. The three of them were sitting in the Headmaster's office, the old temple's inner sanctum that Tharja had converted to her office and living quarters. It looked exactly the way Robin expected her home to; organized chaos. Books and scrolls were everywhere, any gaps on shelves full of spell reagents. There was a cauldron, cold for the moment but clearly used often, sitting over the fire pit next to them. A curtain in the back separated the sleeping area from the 'living' area, and judging from the occasional sounds coming from behind it baby-Noire was sleeping fitfully within. Above them a few of the larger ravens that followed Henry around were roosting, Tharja's own familiar sticking out among them; the raven Huginn stared down at Robin with open curiosity.
"Where's Lucina?" Henry asked, glancing around Robin's back.
"Resting," the tactician shrugged. "She's not really one for desert crossings."
Of course, Robin added internally, that was only partly true. Lucina and Tharja had never really seen eye to eye. They had never really meshed, and there was still a little jealousy between the two. Neither really approved of the other's relationship with the tactician, although both remained silent on the matter in deference to Robin. Honestly, it was better to just let sleeping dogs lie on this matter.
"Has there been any word from Frederick yet?" Tharja asked conversationally.
"No," Robin sighed. "But as soon as I get his letter we'll leave…"
The tactician glanced up at the birds above them, eyes settling on Huginn as a thought occurred to him.
"Can I take Huginn with me?" he asked without preamble.
"No," Tharja said without a hint of hesitation, earning a fresh peal of laughter from Henry.
"C'mon, I need to be able to communicate and scout without using so much magic," Robin pleaded. "Especially because Frederick's spy ring doesn't include any mages. Consider it a personal favor to an old friend."
Tharja glared at him for a moment before sighing and nodding.
"I could never say no to you," she admitted softly.
"You won't regret it," Robin assured her with a smile. "My gut's telling me that this whole thing with the Rommels is bigger than just my school getting knocked down, and I still don't know what their end-game is. It would be nice to know that I have allies in this."
"You always did," Tharja promised him sincerely. "Simply say the word and the entirety of the Dark Mages will be at your side."
"Yeah, all six of them," Henry scoffed, grinning.
"Six Dark Mages is still a terrifying thought," Robin laughed. "And six Dark Mages actually working together? You saw what two of them did to Grima's Avatar at Mount Origin."
"I was one of them," Tharja reminded him.
"And I missed it," Henry moaned, pouting.
Robin burst out laughing, followed closely by Henry. Even Tharja snickered a little.
"Thank you both," Robin said once they quieted. "I mean it. As soon as I hear back from Frederick, I'll be out of your hair."
"What about your little demolition-man?" Henry asked, suddenly serious again.
Robin shrugged, reclining a little in his chair.
"I check on his location every day," the tactician said. "Maris hasn't gone far from Themis since we left. He hasn't left Ylisse, at least."
"Good," Tharja nodded. "We need to figure out how he's channeling Grima's mana before anything else."
"Yeah, that or kill him," Henry shrugged.
"Yeah, but I guess it's too much to hope the psycho stays put until this all blows over," Robin sighed.
That evening, while Robin finally caught up with his old Dark Mage friends, back in Themis Maribelle let out a relieved sigh as she let the heavy robes and mantle of her office fall to the floor of her private bedroom, the one that only Kellam and young Brady had ever seen, along with her most trusted maids. She sank into the small, cushioned chair in front of the vanity as she began to undo the laces of her boots, her thoughts wandering to the day's events.
Idallia Rommel had been lying to her. That much had been clear. But about what, Maribelle wasn't sure. As a magistrate, she was still young and inexperienced. She should have left the questioning up to one of the more senior investigators, but propriety had dictated that someone of Idallia's status be questioned by someone of equal or greater status.
With another, greater sigh of relief Maribelle kicked off the first of her boots, massaging her aching foot a little before starting on the second boot.
Why she had thought that such high-topped boots were necessary beneath her robes was beyond her at present…
Her life had been one of incredible difficulty in the years since Grima's defeat; rebuilding Themis basically from the ground up had been the first step, but trying to help cement her cousin's position as Duke was made difficult by the sheer fact that the people wanted her to rule. Roark had done a good job, though, and Maribelle had been able to become the magistrate she had always dreamed of being. She had excelled at the role, too, smashing aside any preconceived notions of her older male peers and being unanimously voted in as the High Magistrate with the retirement of her predecessor.
All the while Kellam had been there, steadfastly supporting her as her partner and husband. The soldier had become Captain of the Guard, the highest rank someone of common birth could attain, and Maribelle had been prouder than anyone as she had watched his appointment ceremony. It often rankled her that her husband would be shackled by his low birth like this, but such was life among the nobility. But he had taken it all in stride, smiling his usual easy smile as he urged her on to greater and greater heights.
She honestly didn't know what she would do without Kellam around to prop her up, some days.
With a third and final sigh bordering on ecstasy Maribelle finally kicked her final boot of, reclining now and letting her aching feet rest on the cool floor of the room she shared with him and closed her eyes.
She didn't twitch when someone silently opened the door and slipped into the room. Even after all of these years Kellam still moved like a cat, silent even in his heavy suit of armor. She had gotten good at listening for him, though, and he rarely snuck up on her any more.
"Can you tell the butler to bring dinner up here again tonight, darling?" she asked without looking up. "I fear I am far too exhausted to eat in the dining room tonight. And I am not putting any shoes back on right now."
Something in her room stopped moving, the soft brushing of iron plates against each other making Maribelle wonder if Kellam had forgotten to take his armor off again.
"You know, it's not healthy to eat in your room all the time. But then again, what right do I have to talk? This is the first time I've left my room in a week."
Maribelle shot to her feet at the strange voice coming from the other side of her room, years of Shepherd training taking over as she reached for the staff she kept in the corner of her room. Her first thoughts were of Brady's safety, but the boy was with his father, and no doubt far safer than Maribelle was at present.
A large man in full black plate stood near her bed, looking around her private space with no thought towards her privacy. There was something off about him, though. He gave Maribelle a bad feeling. A vary familiar, very bad feeling.
"I will only ask once," Maribelle said in a low voice, levelling her staff like a lance. "Who are you, and why are you in my home?"
The man laughed, taking a few steps around the bed to inspect the items stacked atop one of the dressers. The way he moved was so similar to Kellam it wasn't funny; it was as if he had no presence. There was no wasted movement in any of his actions, either. He was well-trained, and experienced, then.
"I always wondered how nobility lived," he muttered, running his gauntleted fingers along the top of the dresser. "You know, the old adage 'the grass is always greener'?"
"You speak of nobility, yet you leave yourself helmed in the presence of a lady?" Maribelle chuckled. "Speak! Who are you!?"
"I think you know damn well who I am, High Magistrate," the man spat, rounding on her. "You, who have spent so long hounding my steps and admiring my work…"
"You are responsible for the murders," she said, inching back a little. "Are you Maris Rommel, then?"
The man in black chuckled a little as he reached for his helm.
"I was, once," he said, dropping the heavy helm to the ground. "Admittedly every day I feel a little further away, a little more detached from that name."
Maribelle gasped and recoiled from the twisted, ruined face she was presented with. It was indeed Maris, but changed somehow, almost as if he had become a Deadlord. Which wasn't possible now that Grima was gone. He was almost unrecognizable from the proud knight in her father's service she had met during the war.
"What has happened to you?" Maribelle asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"The tactician," Maris spat. "The 'Godslayer', the great hero of Ylisse!"
"Robin would never do something like this!" Maribelle snapped.
"He started this!" Maris thundered, his eyes flashing crimson in the gloom. "He is the reason I became this… monster!"
Maribelle shrunk away from the man's explosive rage, levelling her staff once again.
"And what do you want with me?" she asked slowly.
"Isn't it obvious?" Maris laughed, his mood shifting mercurially as a great smile split his face. "I'm here to kill you for poking around in matters that don't concern you! There's no room for someone so nosy in the coming world…"
He punctuated his statement by drawing a long, black-iron sword. It wasn't the same as the ones that the Deadlords had wielded during the war, but it was close enough to make Maribelle retreat another few steps.
"You will not find me such easy prey," Maribelle warned. "Before all that, though, tell me where you got such armaments. I doubt any Themisian blacksmith would besmirch a suit of Knights' Armor like that."
"Ah yes," Maris chuckled as he advanced on her. "The old 'keep the villain talking until help arrives' routine. I wasn't born yesterday, High Magistrate."
Maribelle chuckled ruefully as she held her ground.
"I may no longer be a Shepherd," she sighed. "But I have not forgotten what I learned from those days."
Maris laughed.
"If you think you can stop me with an old healing staff, you are sadly mistaken."
With that he pounced, swinging his black sword in a great scything arc. Maribelle ducked beneath the blow rather than try to parry it, moving back across the room behind him and out of his striking range. He was stronger and faster than she was, and clearly had more experience in single combat, but she wasn't about to be cut down in her own home.
With another cackling laugh Maris spun, leading with his sword again. Maribelle grunted as she pushed the blow aside with the haft of her staff, the strong wood earning a deep notch for her efforts as she backed away again.
"Just how many more times do you think that staff can take a blow like that?" Maris mocked, echoing her own thoughts.
"I suppose I must go on the offensive, then," Maribelle ground out, setting her stance again.
Before Maris could even laugh at her determination she leapt forward, ducking low beneath his hasty parry and bringing the head of her staff up crashing into his chin. The former knight reeled, shaking the stars from his vision, and Maribelle decided to escape, turning and sprinting from the door while he was distracted.
Just as her fingertips brushed the handle she felt a sharp pain in her scalp as Maris yanked her back by the hair, throwing her across the room one-handed. She flew through the air for a moment, all the breath being forced from her lungs as she crashed into the opposite wall in a heap.
"Ah, that hurt you little bitch," the former knight growled angrily as he stalked back towards her. "I'm going to make you suffer for that."
"Perhaps you should have left your helmet on, then," Maribelle groaned, rising up on one elbow.
Maris laughed as he lashed out, the toe of his boot connecting with Maribelle's cheek so hard she momentarily blacked out. She forced herself to remain conscious, though, just in time to feel Maris' heel break two or three of her ribs as he stomped on her.
"I'll make sure your son is the first one to see your body," Maris promised, kneeling and leaning over her. "I wonder what would be more traumatic for the boy? If he found you naked and gutted like a fish, or if I were to tear off each of your limbs and…"
Maribelle blinked as something warm and wet fell onto her bruised chest, looking up at the spearhead protruding from Maris' own chest.
Behind him Kellam stood in his plainclothes, a look of fury she had never seen before on his face as he drove his lance deeper into Maris' shoulder.
"Ow," Maris groaned, looking back. "How do you… move so quietly, anyway?"
"It's a gift," the bigger man growled.
Kellam lifted, actually lifted, the armored Maris on the end of his spear and flung him across the room, much the same way he had thrown Maribelle. The former knight crashed into an expensive painting on the wall near the door, going down in a bloody heap of armor and ruined canvas.
"Ah, good," he laughed, rising instantly back to his feet as if the blow had been nothing. "It was getting boring beating up on the woman. It'll be much more sporting to kill you first and make her watch."
"Stay down, honey," Kellam whispered, before turning to face the intruder.
Kellam spun, the tip of his lance low, and flicked Maris' helmet up so fast the movement was a blur. The former knight caught the headgear, giving Kellam a suspicious glare.
"No handicaps," the big man said with a smirk.
As he spoke Kellam sunk into a two-handed spear posture he'd learned while in Chon'sin, in case he ever found himself without his shield, the tip of the weapon low and his stance wide. Maris grunted and pulled the helm back on, chuckling a little as he shook his shoulders out.
"You'll regret that," he warned, bringing his sword up again.
Maribelle let out a little groan as she pushed herself up into a sitting position, letting her back rest against the wall as she gasped for breath. Her eye was swelling closed now from Maris' kick and her broken ribs ground against each other with every breath she took, but she still refused to pass out.
Kellam moved first, utilizing his greater reach and striking quickly at the armored Maris, keeping him back. The former knight spun low, coming up inside Kellam's strike zone and grabbing his spear by the haft, making to pull it aside. Kellam didn't hesitate, though, and brought his forehead down on Maris' helm so hard there was an indentation in the hard metal, and the former knight stumbled back in surprise. Kellam pressed his attack, silently striking again with even greater speed and scoring a few small hits that failed to penetrate Maris' armor.
The armored man roared again, swinging his sword in a wild backhand strike and forcing Kellam back this time. Maris pressed his advantage, shouting wordlessly as he lashed out again and again, Kellam catching every blow on the haft of his weapon until Maris finally got lucky and struck the spear in two. Kellam barely flinched as the black-bladed sword bit into his own shoulder, smashing the blunt ended half of his spear against Maris' helm and running the pointed tip through his stomach. Then, as Maris reeled from the blow, Kellam grabbed him by the arm and bodily threw him across the room again. This time, though, Maris sailed through the window and out into the villa's grounds three stories below.
Kellam rushed to the window, frowning as a gust of wind knocked him back and a massive form let out a high-pitched shriek in his face before flying off into the night.
"Was that… a gryphon?" Maribelle asked, disbelief plain on her injured face.
Kellam sighed, his shoulders relaxing as he held a hand to his wounded shoulder.
"Are you okay?" he asked, turning to Maribelle.
"F-fine," she winced. "I'll be fine. Round up… the city guard. T-the knights… Everyone! Storm the… the Rommel villa and arrest… them all!"
Idallia bolted into a sitting position in her bed, fumbling for the dagger she kept on her nightstand as light flooded into the room from the hallway.
"Get up," Maris said shortly. "We need to move up the schedule."
Idallia blinked, lighting the lamp on her nightstand and letting out a horrified gasp when she saw her brother's armored form. Dark blood ran down the blackened plates, dripping into and ruining the expensive rugs she had imported from Valm. He swayed a little before catching himself and throwing some random clothes at her.
"Get dressed," he urged. "We don't have much time."
"W-what happened?" Idallia stammered, climbing out of bed. "What's going on, brother? What have you done!?"
"They attacked us!" Maris snapped, suddenly shouting. "That magistrate and her kind don't understand what we're trying to do! They'll be here soon! We need to leave!"
Idallia felt a horrific surge of fear as she held the blouse her brother had thrown at her close to her chest.
"T-the farms," she said slowly, looking down. "Those families… Did you… were you the one…"
"They betrayed us!" Maris thundered. "They were abandoning us, selling us out to the Guard and the Knights! I killed them before they could harm our plans, sister dear! Now get dressed!"
There was a brief moment of tension before Idallia shuddered and looked down again, nodding meekly.
"Get out so I can change," she said in a low voice.
Maris grunted, crossing the room to stand before his sister. With a gloved hand he reached out, gently stroking her cheek before he spoke again, his tone far softer than before.
"Just hurry. We're out of time."
With that Maris stalked from the room, shutting the door behind him and leaving Idallia to shudder with disgust alone in her dimly lit room as she slipped out of her nightgown and quickly dressed for the road.
When she finally opened the door of her room Hin'rath was waiting now, too, looking as tired and frazzled as ever next to the massive form of Maris.
"Hin'rath will stay here as the rearguard," Maris declared suddenly. "Along with what little forces remain. The workers will load up whatever isn't tied down and-"
"Wait, what are you talking about 'rearguard'?" Idallia interrupted. "There's no rearguard! This isn't a battle, we're simply running-"
"And they'll catch us if we don't leave a rearguard!" Maris snapped, turning on his heel and stomping away. "Hin'rath knows this, too! Get ready to leave, sister. We must go."
Hin'rath smiled awkwardly as Idallia turned her terrified gaze at him, shrugging a little.
"He has a point, my lady," the clerk said sadly. "You should go now, before it's too late."
Idallia shook her head, tears rising to her eyes. This was all happening too fast!
"No," she said. "I won't leave you behind. Not you. Not the last person I have left that-"
Idallia was cut off when Hin'rath did something she never expected him to do and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her in an awkward but warm embrace.
"Thank you for everything, Lady Idallia," Hin'rath said softly. "It has been my life's joy to serve you. I pray that we meet again, in this life or the next."
"N-no," Idallia whimpered as he pulled back.
"Now go with your brother, my lady," Hin'rath said, bowing. "I must see to the defenses. We will hold the City Guard's attention for as long as we can, but I fear it will not be very long. I have already prepared a basket of snacks and a thermos of tea for your journey. It is waiting in your wagon. I wish you safe travels."
And with that the skinny clerk spun, walking purposefully back towards the receiving dock, leaving Idallia feeling utterly lost and alone for the first time since her parents' deaths.
Her brother was lost to madness, and now she was losing her most trusted advisor to his ambitions, too.
What had started out as a foolproof plan to take power in the most bloodless way possible was quickly spiraling out of control and consuming everything she cared about.
And she had no idea how to stop it now.
Arya fidgeted nervously as she stood with her teacher, the older tactician stifling a yawn as they waited in the atrium of the Dark Mage Academy. It was early in the morning, and Arya shivered in the chill desert air that blew through the open space.
Robin shivered at her side, grumbling as he bundled up a little more beneath his coat.
"Gods, I forget how cold it gets in the desert sometimes," he mumbled, blinking groggily.
He glanced around absently, a vacant expression on his face while Arya watched. It was still a little strange for her seeing a literal hero, a man that had saved the world, so unguarded and, for lack of a better term, human.
"Tharja, hurry up, I'm freezing here!" he groaned, hopping up and down a little on the spot.
"It is not that cold," a new voice said.
Arya and Robin both jumped, spinning to face the newcomer. A painfully beautiful woman stood with one hand on her hip, her perfectly straight black hair hanging down past her shoulders as she arched an eyebrow at the tactician trainee. The way she stood propped her cloak up to reveal the sheer, skintight bodysuit of a Dark Mage, complete with the golden choker and trinkets and chains of a high ranking mage.
"About time," Robin grumbled. "Arya, this is Tharja. Tharja, Arya. Here. She's your problem now. Throw her in the deep end and make a mage out of her. I'm going back to bed."
With that, Robin turned and left Arya alone with the highest-ranking Dark Mage left in the world; another hero of Plegia and living legend. Tharja wasn't an uncommon name in some parts of the desert nation, but it only just sunk in that Arya would be learning from the Tharja.
How many other legends would she get to meet while learning from the Hero-Tactician?
The Dark Mage turned her cold gaze on Arya, and the girl had to resist the urge to shrink away. Arya knew that her teachers had been doing their best to instill her with a sense of confidence, and after the events at Themis and Saiqat she was ready to start acting a little more like a tactician. Or so she told herself, anyway. She was still incredibly nervous.
"Any previous experience?" Tharja asked suddenly.
"N-no," Arya stammered. "I mean, Sir Robin taught me a little about tapping mana-lines, but… I haven't… c-cast anything yet."
"We'll worry about getting you some robes later. Follow," she said suddenly, spinning and walking away.
"And stop stammering," Tharja added over her shoulder.
Arya silently hurried to keep up with the older woman, her golden heels clacking loudly against the stone floor of the empty temple around them. She was struck immediately by how confident, how self-assured Tharja was compared to her. Every movement, every step, every sway of her hips oozed power and confidence, and it made Arya even more aware of her own plainness and shortcomings.
"Robin has asked me to throw you in the deep end," Tharja explained while they walked, not looking back. "So I will teach you with my advanced class. You will address me as Lady Tharja or Master at all times. You will only speak when spoken to. You will only channel mana and cast when I tell you to. Do you understand me?"
"Y-yes Master!" Arya squeaked nervously.
"And. Stop. Stammering," Tharja added, emphasizing her words dangerously.
Arya nodded wordlessly, following along. Tharja led her through the temple where other young mage trainees were beginning to stir, emerging from dormitory rooms and washrooms in various states of dress and wakefulness. The older ones all seemed to be moving towards the lecture area that she had seen when they had first arrived, already wearing robes or suits similar to Lady Tharja's, while the younger ones seemed to be more interested in what was for breakfast.
However, as they passed all of the trainees, regardless of age, stopped and bowed their heads respectfully to their instructor.
The younger girl thought she saw Tharja smirking a little as they walked, but put it up to her own imagination.
Tharja led her through the temple and into a smaller room near the back, the center of the space occupied by a large black cauldron, a small fire already crackling away beneath it. Around the cauldron five others sat, stood or leaned, waiting for their teacher. Two young men, clearly brothers given how similar they looked, sat side-by-side on a low crate, one fiddling with his nails while the other hurriedly scribbled in a thin looking book. A small way away from them a slightly older man sat, cross-legged on the ground with his hands neatly folded on his lap. His chest was bare beneath his cloak, and his head was shaved above the serene expression on his face, but he radiated an aura of magic so strong that even Arya could feel it. The last two, both girls, were whispering something to each other as they leaned against the closest wall, but fell silent when Tharja entered. One looked to be about Arya's age, with long chestnut hair and a round, innocent-seeming face looked surprised to see Arya behind their teacher. The final student, clearly closer to Tharja's age than the others, actually looked somewhat similar to the teacher, if far thinner. Strangely, though, she had a bow strapped to her hip. She smiled when she saw Tharja enter, brushing some of her own shoulder-length black hair away from her face.
"This is Arya," Tharja introduced without preamble as she took up a position next to the cauldron. "She is Robin's newest apprentice, and he has asked me to make a mage out of her. She will, therefore, be joining you for a time."
The older, black-haired girl gave Arya a little smile as the younger one waved cheerily. The two brothers both offered her a greeting nod, one grinning a little as the other looked away in boredom. The bald man simply stood, looking expressionlessly at Arya before turning his full attention back to Tharja.
"Today we're going to be focusing on scrying hexes," Tharja said. "I hope you all brought your reagents."
One of the brothers cursed as the other chuckled, the students crowding around the cauldron. Arya tentatively stepped forward too, finding herself next to the older, bow-carrying girl.
"Just stay close to me," the girl whispered. "I'll help you. My name is Noire."
Arya nodded, and watched carefully as Tharja began to explain how to cast the complex spell.
A few weeks later Arya let out a loud yawn, balancing the spoon atop the rim of her bowl as she did so. She was alone at one end of the long tables in the school's refractory, sitting in over-sized Dark Mage's robes. Her face broke out into a smile, though, when she saw three familiar forms come through the door.
"Hey guys! Over here!" she called out, waving to get their attention.
Asim, Lateef and Femi all broke out into their own grins as they picked up their own breakfast and hurried over. The twin boys wound up arguing over the last slice of toast, as usual, but Femi ignored them and fell into her seat across from Arya.
"Morning," the older girl yawned. "Sleep good?"
"When my nose stopped running, yeah," Arya laughed.
At Robin's urging she had been 'thrown into the deep end', training with the most advanced class of mages under the school's headmistress herself. While her aptitude for magic wasn't extremely high, she excelled at the small spells she could use, including a number of hexes and curses. It had been refreshing, being surrounded by Plegians again, although it did somehow remind Arya about why she left in the first place. Almost every member of the school was an orphan like her or had lost a parent during the war.
"Yeah, we all got hit with that curse," Lateef laughed, dropping into the seat next to Arya.
"It's one of Lady Tharja's favorites," Asim sighed, sitting opposite his brother.
Arya nodded, reflexively rubbing her nose as she noticed that the boys had split the last piece of toast evenly. Why they didn't just show up on time was beyond her…
The trainee-tactician glanced around the busy refractory, a contented smile on her face. She spotted Noire eating with Severa, Owain, Lucina and Brady, the older girl also apparently having come from the future like the others, but she couldn't find the final member of their class anywhere.
"Where's Badru?" she asked curiously.
"Meditating," Asim and Lateef both answered in a disinterested-union, spooning their congealed oats in time.
"What about your friend, Fae?" Femi asked conversationally.
"She's still out in the desert," Arya sighed.
It had been quiet since Fae had gone off on her 'mission', but Robin had promised she'd be back before they departed.
"Hey, I saw that!"
"Then maybe you should have eaten it faster!"
"You are so dead!"
Femi sighed as the twins began to bicker again, arguing over the last bite of toast that Asim had eaten off of Lateef's plate.
"There they go again," the older Plegian girl sighed.
She sighed, scooting to one side as the boys started grappling across the table. Arya laughed, moving out of their way as well. At least her mage training was proving entertaining.
Too bad, she realized with a sudden sense of melancholy that it wouldn't last.
AN2016: Aaaaaand I'm done Birthright. That ending did not deliver after the build-up. Hopefully Revelation is better. I was also listening to the Genei Ibun Roku #FE Vocal Collection while I was writing the end of the chapter and editing. It was pretty cool, but not what I was expecting. Kinda hyped for this game, though.
So, shit has finally started to happen in this story, and our villain(s?) are on the move at last. *gasp!* Urgh… You know, I never planned for this arc to go past ten chapters, now it's looking like 15-17 at the very least. Grr… let this be a lesson to all my fellow writers: always plan for the worst. Because now Future of Despair just got pushed back AGAIN! I swear we'll get up to it eventually… At least I don't have to change much in the next few chapters. And unfortunately, yes, I will be skipping over Arya's time at the Dark Mage Academy. At this point I don't think it would add much to the story, and it's been too long since I've read Harry Potter, so I'm not gonna bother with the magic school thing.
Remember I'm doing a podcast? CAB Anime and Gaming, new episodes every second Friday! Find us on SoundCloud and iTunes! And we're starting in on YouTube soon, too! Yay!