Chapter 15
Vaike let out a great yawn as he sat up in his cot, blinking groggily and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He found himself momentarily disoriented as he failed to recognize the room right away, but once his tired mind woke properly he gave a feral grin.
Today's the day! He thought excitedly, jumping to his feet and starting to get dressed.
Or as dressed as he ever did, anyway; all he really did was pull his boots on and strap the leather plates he wore on his legs and off-hand arm on, before putting the steel gut-protector he wore on over his belt. The last step was to put his steel collar on, the armor that had stopped him from being beheaded so many times in the past. With another, more wistful grin her ran a finger over all the scars on the silvery steel, each a memory of a brush with death, before locking it into place. Nodding in satisfaction he spiked his hair up as the last step before grabbing his axe and stepping out into the common room area he was sharing with the rest of the Shepherds dispatched to Regna Ferox to quell the coup attempt.
Seeing as they would all be fighting on the Western side during the conflict Basilio had arranged billeting for them in his half of the Coliseum's facilities; a small building near the outer wall of the Western hemisphere. It was comfortable enough, similar to the Shepherds' barracks in Ylisse in a lot of ways. Mostly because it was full of Shepherds, though.
Lon'qu glanced up from whatever he was reading so intently, having been put in charge of the mission. Sully was across from him with Kjelle and Cynthia, all three women attempting to keep their distance while still looking at whatever was spread out on the small table. Vaike could hear Libra outside, training with his son Inigo, and Yarne was in the small kitchen area with Miriel and Olivia preparing the squad's breakfast.
Vaike unconsciously smiled at the sight of his wife, her hat resting on a hook near the door and her long and perfectly straight red hair, having grown out since their days fighting Plegia and Valm, tied away from her face with a ribbon at the base of her neck. She glanced over her shoulder when she heard him enter, offering him a brief smile over the rim of her spectacles before going back to… whatever she, the dancer and the bunny-boy were cooking.
It smelled good, at least.
Everyone else looked much the same, except for Kjelle who had shorn her hair even shorter and Cynthia who had also let her hair grow out.
"So kind of you to finally join us," Lon'qu deadpanned as Vaike let out another yawn.
"'s still early, sod off," Vaike grumbled. "What's for breakfast?"
Lon'qu sighed, shaking his head.
"I have the match ups for the preliminary round of the tournament here," the dour man said, "but if you're more interested in food-"
"Well why didn'tcha say something!" Vaike said excitedly. "Gimmie!"
Sully and Cynthia both barked out laughs as the axeman leapt forward, snatching the papers up off the table. Each Khan's camp, Eastern and Western, had their own miniature tournament to decide which fighters would be taking the position of Champions for the various roles in the main tournament, meaning of course that all of the Shepherds would have to fight each other. However, even if they lost they would still be in the Coliseum in case more… drastic measures were required to quell the Rommels. Vaike studied the papers for a second before letting out a disappointed sigh and tossing them lazily back down.
"Aw, that sucks!" he groaned. "I wanted to fight one'a you guys right off the bat!"
Kjelle laughed along with the others this time while Lon'qu sighed again.
"I'm sure you will have the chance," he said. "Do you really think that anyone is going to beat any of us?"
"Hell no," Vaike laughed. "All I care about's finding out which one'a us is the strongest Shepherd!"
"I really wish I could fight, too," Chrom groaned.
"I know, dear," Sumia said placatingly.
"No, I really wish I could fight, too," he repeated with greater emphasis.
"Can I fight?" Lucina piped up from her mother's side.
"Not until you're older, dear," Sumia said, smiling down at her young daughter.
The royal family were in one of Basilio's grandest guest suites, preparing for the official reception and festivities that would take place while the preliminary tournaments were held. The first tournament to be held since the world regained peace, and it was tainted by Ylissean subjects' greed. Chrom felt that this was his responsibility to resolve, not just leave it to the Shepherds. He had even taken Falchion from the vault in his armory, just in case, but Frederick had assured him that the plan was fool-proof.
The Exalt couldn't help but feel there was more going on beneath the calm Knight-Commander's surface plans than he let on, but had decided against pushing the matter.
Representatives from Plegia and various Valmese territories would also be attending, and had been briefed on the situation. No doubt Virion would have his bow close at hand, and Say'ri her swords, too…
If nothing else it would be good to see the others again after so long, even if the occasion was slightly marred by all the coup business.
Chrom stood, straightening the collar of his crisp blue ceremonial dress-uniform. Rather than the robes that most previous Exalts wore Chrom had opted to wear the colors of his nation's military; he was a military leader, anyway. It was Lissa, the voice of moderation that had been left behind in Ylisse in his stead with his youngest daughter that wore the more subdued robes that their older sister had.
"I hate this stupid suit," Chrom groaned, pulling with one finger at the tight collar.
Sumia sighed and smiled, rising and straightening it for him.
"At least there's no tie on this one," she laughed.
Lucina pouted on the edge of her parents' bed, wearing the same deep blue color as her mother did.
"I could still fight…" she muttered sulkily.
There was a knock at the door, and Cordelia stuck her head into the room.
"Your Grace, My Lady, Khan Basilio has sent for you, and Lady Maribelle is already waiting with Duke Roark," she said formally.
Chrom nodded, making sure Falchion was securely strapped to his hip before taking Lucina's small hand and making ready to attend the first of what was likely to be many meetings about cultural exchange. Sumia laughed, though, moving over to her old friend and straightening the collar of her dress uniform, too, before adjusting the way the small winged pin on her chest sat.
"We may be on an important diplomatic mission but that doesn't mean you get to go formal on me," she chuckled. "Here. You could never figure out your collar, either 'Wing-Commander'!"
Cordelia cleared her throat and blushed as Sumia made minute adjustments before stepping back and smiling.
"Perfect!" she said happily.
"Yes, now let's go and sit in boredom for the next twelve hours before anything interesting happens," Chrom whispered to his daughter. "Unless we can sneak away to watch the preliminaries, first, that is."
Lucina giggled as they approached the two Pegasus Knights, Chrom giving both women an innocent look as they narrowed their eyes at the ruler. Behind the two women Frederick was conversing with the young tactician Isaac, both men shutting down immediately when they spotted Chrom and heightening his suspicion.
"So this is Regna Ferox?" Say'ri asked, quirking her head as Virion and Cherche led her through the Coliseum. "It is… lively."
"Yeah, isn't it great?" Morgan laughed from next to her mother. "I love it here."
"It is certainly loud," General Kei'ji muttered from behind his queen and princess, the grumpy Chon'sin native glaring at everyone around them.
"That is part of the charm, cousin," Sei'ko laughed from beside him. "Not all nations can be as demure as our homeland."
Say'ri was in a modified version of her old battle-wear, the old lacquered plates being used over a new, slightly more formal kimono. Her old sword and Amatsu were both strapped to her hip, and the new version of her battle-wear sported 'modesty fit for a queen' in Kei'ji's words, including skin-tight leggings and high-topped boots. Kei'ji wore his full military regalia, which was a full set of dark lacquered armor of a heavier design than Say'ri's, and Sei'ko wore the plain black robes of a clerk while Morgan wore the same clothes she always did when she travelled under her black coat. Virion and Cherche were both dressed in their old battle-gear, too, although Virion had complained that it was a little tighter around the middle than he remembered.
"The people of Regna Ferox throw the most festive of festivals before their tournament," Virion explained. "And said people are rather rowdy once revelry starts. It may take some getting used to. Just do not drink the firewine and you will be perfectly safe."
"Ooh, I love firewine!" Morgan groaned happily.
"After the tournament, Princess," Sei'ko said, her smile never dropping. "And remember that we are representatives of Chon'sin here, so you must behave."
"What are you, my mother?" Morgan muttered petulantly.
"No, but I am," Say'ri said half-jokingly. "And I could institute a full ban on alcoholic drinks if I so desired."
"I'll be good," Morgan sighed.
"My lady I wish you would reconsider spectating this event," Kei'ji said exasperatedly. "With the coup this tournament is likely to become a bloody affair, and-"
"Yes, Kei'ji," Say'ri sighed. "Fie, I heard you the first six times. Which is exactly why we have our swords and armor. We will be fine."
"And I have my magic, don't forget that!" Morgan added, grinning over her shoulder.
Kei'ji rolled his eyes, sighing as he followed the two women beside his cousin.
"Try to relax, cousin," Sei'ko chuckled under her breath. "You used to love the festivals back home. I'm sure if we tried we could find a goldfish-scooping stall somewhere in the city for you."
"These barbarians seem more likely to eat them than keep them as pets," Kei'ji muttered back. "And you may mock me, but I know a certain clerk who still gets frightened by the sound of firewo-ARGH!"
Say'ri and Morgan both glanced curiously over their shoulders, Kei'ji grimacing and rubbing at the small section of his side not protected by plates as Sei'ko continued smiling. Morgan blinked a few times as she turned around, suppressing the urge to shudder. Sei'ko could still be very scary, even when she was smiling.
Especially when she was smiling.
The forests of Regna Ferox were always cold, apparently, but Arya found them almost insufferable, even compared to the Ylissean mountain ranges they had crossed to get there. Having spent her entire life either in the desert or southern Ylisse hadn't given her any exposure to such levels of extreme cold. Ice and snow hung from the trees, giant evergreens coated in layers of white and silvery-blue as the small group of Shepherds advanced beneath the lengthening shadows as the day waned. It was almost enough to make Arya pine for her life back in the slums.
And still, she marveled as Fae skipped by her wearing her normal desert-faring clothes.
"Manaketes don't feel the cold like we do," Van supplied helpfully as he spotted her disbelieving face. "Weirded me out at first, too…"
Behind them Galle sneezed, groaning in displeasure as he huddled beneath his overcoat. And his tactician's coat. And the thickest clothes he'd been able to buy. It was reassuring for Arya, knowing that she wasn't the only miserable one.
They had passed through the Longfort a week ago now, and according to Huginn would be coming up on where the Rommel soldiers had blockaded one of the main roads to the Coliseum through the east any day now. The Dark Mages had joined them at the border, cold and miserable as well, but excited to finally be using their skills in the field for the first time, and the Wall-Warden Raimi would be leading her own soldiers after them.
Lady Tharja marched at the head of the column with Robin and Lucina, the rest trailing along behind them in no particular order as Ita and Kowrowa brought up the rear; even from the back of the group their enhanced senses would be more than enough warning if there was an ambush.
Arya cast a worried glance at her teacher at the head of the small column. At the border they had received word that Khan Flavia had been killed in a coup, and that Regna Ferox was effectively leaderless until the Khan-meet ended. If she were entirely honest, the news hadn't meant a thing to her, but…
In the short time Arya had been his student she had seen Robin frustrated. She had seen him exhausted. She had even seen him mildly upset.
But seeing the tactician so furious had been the single most terrifying thing Arya had ever experienced.
Fae had explained that Robin and Khan Flavia had been close personal friends; during the Valm campaign they had fought together closely for an extended period of time in the resistance movement. More than that, she had been a Shepherd. The manakete had said that part, clenching her fists, as if that alone was reason enough to seek revenge.
Even the cool and aloof Lady Tharja had taken the news hard. All of the original Shepherds were looking for blood now; one of their own had been killed, and they wanted revenge.
At the head of the column Robin raised his fist, Huginn fluttering down from the trees to land on Lady Tharja's outstretched hand. Words were exchanged before the older tactician turned and called everyone in.
"Alright, listen up," he declared, a frown on his face. "The enemy is on the other side of these trees in the field before the Coliseum. We're facing trained soldiers, veterans of the war with Valm, so stay on your toes. Mages to the rear, everyone else, you know your positions. Stick to the plan and don't take any chances. Hit 'em hard, hit 'em fast. You get hurt, pull back immediately. Questions?"
"Are we… taking prisoners?" Van asked hesitantly.
Robin turned his gaze on his former student, his eyes taking on a regretful, sad look before hardening.
"Unless they surrender, no."
Robin attempted to calm himself with deep breaths of the chill frozen air to no avail, his blood boiling and his mana seething the same way it had been ever since he'd learned of Flavia's death. It was like little rivers of liquid fire beneath his skin, similar to what it had felt like back in Valm when his mind had been fractured and the aggressive and hateful parts of his personality had taken over.
In fact, it was exactly like that. Mercifully, though, the only voices in his head this time were his own.
Since a somber Raimi had given them the news at the Longfort Robin had struggled to maintain his composure, feeling his control ebbing. It wasn't as strong as the impulses back in Valm; his mind was whole again, so the murderous intent that came with being part of Grima's bloodline was easier to control, but if he were entirely honest there was a part of him that didn't want to control it.
"I should have killed that bastard when I had the chance," he growled to himself.
"You could not know," Lucina said comfortingly from his side. "You did the right thing at the time. You always do."
Tharja nodded her agreement, silently laying a hand on Robin's shoulder from his other side. The three of them would be the spearhead for the attack on the Rommel forces blockading the eastern roads to the Coliseum.
In his opinion, the three of them would be enough.
In fact with the mood he was in the three of them would probably be overkill.
There were at least two hundred men blocking the wide road with dug in wooden and stone fortifications, spiked logs tied together to make walls with stones placed at their bases for support. Men easily distinguishable as the Ylissean veterans milled about with the much more numerous Feroxi soldiers; Robin fervently hoped that they would surrender and leave the Ylisseans to fight on their own, but the northerners were a proud race, so he doubted it. All in all, though, he saw no more than fifty of the veteran soldiers.
"At least this is almost over now," he sighed, feeling some of the tension drain from him at the though. "It'll be nice to go home again."
"I agree," Tharja commented idly. "I saw more than enough of Regna Ferox the last two times you dragged me through it."
"Each time was voluntary and I couldn't force you to stay behind if I tried," Robin deadpanned.
The Dark Mage shrugged as Lucina laughed at their display. As territorial as the blue-haired woman was, it was still nice that Robin had old friends like she did.
"Mother," Noire called out. "We are… r-ready. The others are all in p-position."
Tharja nodded, frowning at her daughter's nervous habit of stuttering as she turned and began to walk back to where the rest of the mages were positioned with Galle and Arya.
"Don't die," she said over her shoulder, mostly as an afterthought.
Robin scoffed, grinning a little at the absurdity.
"You know, they do say the third time's the charm," he laughed.
Lucina chuckled a little at the gallows humor as Tharja strode back through the trees, Noire falling into step with her mother as she went to lead the young mages in their casting.
The plan was ridiculously simple; Tharja led the mages in creating cover and bottlenecking the soldiers by attacking the flanks, and Robin and Lucina led a frontal charge. It would be quick and brutal, and Robin had already called for a 'no mercy' policy. If the enemy surrendered, he wouldn't execute them, but if they stood against him…
Robin pushed all thoughts of morality from his mind as he reached back and tied his hair up and out of his face. The scars on his forehead and nose practically shone as light reflected off of them in the weak afternoon sun. Next to him Lucina silently donned her old mask, slipping into her old 'Marth' persona as she did so. Robin knew it helped her cope. They weren't fighting Risen, or Valmese soldiers or even Plegians. They were fighting Ylisseans and Feroxi here; allies and countrymen, veteran soldiers that had stood at their side. It hurt Lucina to raise arms against them, just as it hurt Robin to order her to do so.
Without looking back Robin started walking towards where the enemy was dug in, saying only one other word over his shoulder as he let his usual humor and good cheer be replaced by steel and wrath, his hatred bubbling back to the fore.
"Fae."
"If you're sure…" the manakete responded hesitantly behind him.
There was a strange sound behind Robin, a weird tearing, popping sound that he always equated with the shape-shifters he knew changing form, before a great downward blast of air. A large dragon flew over his head, not quite as big as Tiki but still bigger than Nowi or Nah, and towards the enemy fortifications.
Just as the enemy soldiers looked up and began scrambling and panicking Fae opened her mouth and a searing jet of magical blueish flames poured over the front line fortifications. Robin grimaced as a loud howl echoed through the air, followed by a second. Three dark horse-sized forms exploded from the forest near the back of the enemy formation, Panne leading Kowrowa and Ita in a diversionary attack on the enemy's rear to further disrupt unit cohesion.
"Forward!" Robin snarled, breaking into a run.
As he pumped his legs, confident that the others were right behind him, Robin struggled to maintain his composure. He wanted to roar, to bay like an animal lusting for the enemy's blood after what they had done. Just like back in Valm. But he was a more mature person now, and more importantly he needed to set an example for Arya, who would no doubt be watching his every move.
He settled for a grunt as he kicked off the ground, using wind magic to launch himself over the blazing wooden barricade as Lucina led the others around through the slatted openings.
Landing in a crouch the tactician glanced up from under his brow, scowling at the Feroxi soldiers shrinking away from him, sheer terror on their faces in the presence of the wrathful tactician. As he rose to his full height the others charged into the camp around the barricade, Owain kicking a good portion of it down for good measure.
"Anyone that doesn't want to die, throw down your weapons and run!" Robin snarled. "Any other actions, any at all, will be seen as hostile and we will respond in kind!"
A couple of the soldiers looked conflicted, many of them barely old enough to have finished their basic training, but all old enough to know who Robin was and what he and his followers were capable of. Robin didn't think that his threat would amount to much, considering the Feroxi predisposition to solving any problem with fighting, but for a moment it looked like it had worked.
"Stand firm! You fight for the Khan! For Khan Idallia and Eastern Regna Ferox! Make ready to repel these invaders!"
Robin clicked his tongue in annoyance as a weak cheer went up from the Feroxi soldiers, the press parting to allow a squad of Ylissean ex-soldiers to march forward. There were a number of different provincial uniforms and armors among the Ylisseans, the majority belonging to the Themisian forces that had been devastated in Valm.
"Damn. Almost had them," he muttered to himself, striding forward to meet them.
Lucina, Owain, Severa, Van and Mariko all spread out behind him, the two younger tacticians looking a little nervous compared to the calm exteriors of the Shepherds.
"On behalf of Khan Idallia I hereby order you to stand down!" an older man sporting an eyepatch shouted, stepping forward with a slight limp. "You are in violation of-"
"In the name of Khan Flavia I'm here to dethrone your usurper Khan!" Robin shouted above the man.
A large squad of Ylissean-armored men were arrayed between the Shepherds and the Feroxi now, the grizzled veterans standing in front eyeing Robin with a look of resignation, the younger men behind them beginning to sweat with nerves. Behind them the clearly reluctant Feroxi warriors stood restlessly, waiting to see what happened.
The tactician held his sword point-out, glaring at them all.
"If any of you ever held any fealty to the Exalt, stand down," he said evenly.
A few of the veterans looked at the men standing next to them, beginning to sweat. But to Robin's surprise, a number of the older men shook their heads and threw down their weapons, the leader included.
"It was worth a try," the old man in front sighed. "I'm too old to be fighting the Grandmaster, anyway. Lay down your arms, all of you! We surrender unconditionally!"
"That went easier than expected," Galle muttered as he and Arya walked into the captured camp, the Dark Mage Acolytes right behind them.
The Feroxi soldiers were milling about at the periphery of the camp under Owain and Severa's supervision, clearly not happy about having their weapons taken away. A number of armored Ylissean men were among them, the younger ones looking just as lost while the older men just looked… tired. Beaten. Like they had lost a long time ago, and were tired of fighting. It was the same look he saw on Owain's face when the other man thought no one was looking.
"Noire, guard the prisoners," Tharja snapped as she brushed by the young tacticians.
The girl in question squeaked in surprise before rushing to stand guard with the other two Shepherds, leaving the other apprentices to wait with the tacticians.
Galle glanced up as Mari moved to his side, the Plegian giving a slight smile at her familiar presence. Van was right behind her, frowning as he bounced his sword-staff up and down on his shoulder impatiently.
"They didn't even put up a fight," he said dejectedly. "They just surrendered."
"Yeah, but you've seen Robin when he's mad," Galle pointed out. "I wouldn't be surprised if he singlehandedly glared down the entire Valmese army."
"That's pretty damn close to the truth, I tell ya," Brady grunted, hobbling by them. "Wounded?"
"Only prisoners, all over there," Van said, pointing to the press of Feroxi bodies. "Some burns, some lacerations. Nothing life-threatening."
The surly priest grunted again, brandishing his staff as he moved to do his work. Galle noticed Kowrowa and Ita sniffing around the tents, Panne and Gaius doing much the same as they searched for any traps or other surprises. Robin was being thorough.
"I didn't even get to cast anything," one of the Dark Mages, the girl Femi, muttered darkly.
"That's a good thing, kid," Galle sighed.
"Don't 'kid' me," she snapped. "You're not that much older than me!"
"Yeah, yeah, simmer down," the older Plegian groaned. "I'm just saying, this could have gotten a lot messier."
"Plus I'm pretty sure you'll still get your chance before this is over," Van added helpfully.
"At least I finally got to stretch my wings a little!" Fae said happily, appearing just behind the small group.
They all jumped, with the exception of Arya who was getting used to the sneaky manakete by now.
Robin let out a little growl as he, Lucina and Tharja faced three men across a small table covered in familiar maps and papers. The old man, Maurice, had brought the trio back to the command tent with his second, a younger man named Adrik, and the Feroxi commander who hadn't named himself yet.
"Give me answers," Robin snapped. "I want the full story. Now."
"It's a long story, Grandmaster, and there's not really a lot of time before the tournament," Maurice said honestly.
"Then give me the main points," Robin said, his voice low and threatening.
Maurice nodded, opening his mouth but stopping when Robin held up his hand.
"Tharja?" he said, motioning the Dark Mage forward.
With a scowl she stepped up to the table, digging out a handful of dried somethings from one of her pouches and using them to cast a spell on the old man.
"Truth hex," Robin growled. "I'm not playing anymore. Now talk, and keep it brief."
Maurice nodded, his Adam's-apple bobbing up and down nervously. It was common knowledge that truth hexes could be draining, even life threatening in some cases depending on how long they were used. Robin didn't let it show, but he wasn't happy about resorting to these methods. But the old soldier had been right; they were running out of time.
"We tried to muscle our way into Silva and force the locals to sign their deeds over to us, but you kicked us out," he said quickly. "Plan was to use the 'bandits' to make em think they needed our protection. Didn't work, so we attacked your fort to distract you while the Lady enacted plan B, which was buy up enough of the town to become important landowners. You captured the Captain and tortured him crazy. Then they came here, killed the Khan and took over, leaving us out here as a sacrifice to keep you busy. Now if they win the Khan-meet Idallia'll be Khan Regnant and her psychotic brother will have more power than I want to think about."
Robin nodded as Maurice took a shuddering breath.
"Tell me about your 'Captain'," the Tactician pressed.
"When we found him near the border he was manic," the old man continued reluctantly. "Wild. Covered in blood, none of it his own. He had… the brand burned into his face. He killed three of his own men before we convinced him it was us, and we were there to rescue him. I don't know what in Naga's name you did to him, but it broke him."
"I tried to give him a second chance," Robin spat.
"He was a Knight," Maurice said, shaking his head. "And he was always vain, but he was… a little off after Valm. It got worse after that fight at Origin Peak. You burnin' his face up pushed him over the edge. Now he's got some crazy armor that's making him even more nuts…"
"Maurice!" Adrik hissed at the older man's shoulder. "That's the Captain you're talking about!"
"Captain's dead, boy!" the older man snapped. "Died a long time ago. Whatever's wearin' his skin ain't human no more. Ain't no saving what he's become."
Robin nodded, thinking.
"Is there anything else between here and the Coliseum?" he asked.
Maurice shook his head.
"Straight shot to the Coliseum. They aren't even trying to hold a preliminary tournament for the East. That Raimi lady was spittin' mad about that."
Robin nodded, smirking at the thought of the Feroxi woman's temper.
"Tharja, cancel the hex," he sighed after a moment. "We need to move. Raimi will be along soon and she can hold them here while we move on the capital."
Robin was already halfway around the small table, Lucina right behind him, when the old man called out.
"Grandmaster," Maurice said quietly. "For what it's worth… I'm sorry it came to this. A lot of us… we never wanted to go up against you or the Khans."
The tactician stopped, looking down for a moment before nodding.
"You know, I was there," the old man went on wistfully, wincing when Tharja yanked one of his grey hairs out to cancel the truth hex. "I was there at Steiger. I saw you come out, half dead. I saw you go back in right after, like a god of war. I was right there, in the first rank off the boats at Origin Peak with Grandmaster Morgan. I always followed you and yours, Grandmaster. I… I'm sorry. All of us. We never wanted this."
Robin glanced over his shoulder, his expression softening.
"Prove it," he said. "Help me stop this madness before Maris does something else I can't undo."
"Maurice you can't seriously-" Adrik started.
"Shut it, boy!" the old man growled. "It's time to do the right thing, for a change!"
Adrik sagged, nodding once and averting his gaze as the old soldier limped forward, snapping to attention in front of Robin and Lucina.
"First Lieutenant Maurice of the Themisian Medium Infantry 3rd platoon, reporting for duty, sir!"
Vaike let out a happy sigh as he rotated his arms, axe in one hand as the other alternated between flexing and forming a fist. The cheering of the crowd in the smaller secondary arena was deafening as he strode out onto the sand, grinning up and waving at the spectators. Across the arena his opponent stood glowering at his display of showmanship, the Feroxi swordsman waiting impatiently for the match to begin.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Basilio roared, playing announcer for the tournament himself.
"Welcome to the first of the semi-final matches! Hailing from Ylisse; Vaike, the 'Teach' of Ylisstol!"
The crowd's roars increased to a fevered pitch as Vaike hollered along with them, jumping and pumping his free hand in the air to work them up even more. It was a good minute until they calmed to the point where Basilio could continue, the old Khan grinning along with his subjects.
This was important not only to the Khan, but to all of Regna Ferox. Traditions had to be upheld, even if they were sullied by foreigners trying to seize power on one side. Vaike had even considered throwing the fight to make sure that a Feroxi made it to the finals, but the thought of actually getting to fight Lon'qu had been too good to pass up.
"And his opponent," Basilio went on in a loud voice. "Winner of Western Regna Ferox's last preliminary tournament, Lon'qu, the azure flash!"
If the crowd's reaction to Vaike had been loud, Lon'qu's reaction was deafening. The crowd went berserk with excitement for the champion of the last preliminary tournament, a rare grin rising to the swordsman's face as he lazily waved to them.
"All eyes on Teach, 'cause class is in session!" Vaike roared, much to the crowd's approval.
Lon'qu just smirked and shook his head, sinking into a ready stance.
"I always wanted to see which one'a us was stronger," Vaike said as he moved across from the smaller man. "Tell me you never thought about it."
Lon'qu nodded silently, still smirking. He raised his sword in a salute before sinking back into his stance.
Vaike grinned back at him, hopping up and down on the spot to loosen up as much as he could. When he was as ready as he was going to get he stepped back, raising his axe and signaling he was ready.
"Fight already!" Basilio roared.
The crowd erupted at the same time Lon'qu darted forward, moving low and fast. Vaike stepped back, bringing his axe down as hard as he could. The weapon became a blur, and Lon'qu leapt to the side to avoid the blow. Sand and the stone beneath erupted into the air from the force of Vaike's blow, the axeman pressing his attack and closing the distance between the two fighters with two quick steps.
Vaike hissed as he dodged to the side, Lon'qu's reprisal blow so fast he'd nearly missed it. As he backed away a line of red ran down his chest from a shallow cut near his shoulder.
Seeing first blood the crowd lost it, cheering so loud Vaike could have sworn he felt the ground tremble.
"I'm far from beat!" Vaike growled in response to the crowd.
"Good," Lon'qu smirked.
Vaike spun, bringing his axe down in a diagonal arc as he stepped around Lon'qu. The swordsman thrust forward, missing Vaike's arm by less than a centimeter, before tumbling forward into a roll and clipping Vaike's leg with his backswing. Vaike had counted on that, though, and surged forward into the blow before Lon'qu could recover. The blow to his thigh was a little deeper than he'd been expecting, but Vaike shrugged it off and brought his open hand down on Lon'qu's shoulder, grabbing hold of a great handful of the smaller man's collar.
"Let's see you dodge this," he said with a vicious grin. "Clench your teeth!"
Lon'qu's eyes actually widened a fraction before Vaike brought the back of his axe down on his face, crushing his nose and knocking him to the ground. Lon'qu let out a cough as he struggled to rise, Vaike holding him down with one foot in the middle of his back. He brought the blade of his axe to rest against the prone swordsman's throat, holding his empty fist in the air in victory.
Even though he was pretty sure he was about to pass out due to blood loss from the wound in his thigh, the screams of the crowd were the most amazing thing Vaike had ever heard.
"Wow!" Lucina, the younger Lucina, breathed as she leaned against the stone railing overlooking the arena. "Mister Vaike is so strong! He even beat Uncle Lon'qu!"
Chrom snickered a little, pulling his hood lower over his face. True to his promise, he and Lucina had snuck away to watch the preliminaries as soon as they had been able, snatching hooded cloaks from startled attendants along the way. It had been relatively easy to evade any of Basilio's honor guard, too, and the duo had snuck out of the Khan's quarters into the city within a matter of minutes. After that they had blended into the crowd of latecomers moving to catch the end of the tournament, finding a decent vantage point standing above the edge of the arena.
"Heh, your uncle's getting sloppy," Chrom laughed. "Vaike had it right, though; take away his superior agility and speed and Lon'qu is a sitting duck. I'd hate to be Vaike when we get back and your Aunt finds out, though."
Lucina giggled the way a young girl was supposed to, smiling and watching the crowd with a happy expression. Chrom's heart warmed when he thought about giving her the life that the other Lucina had been denied, her and Cynthia both. It was his greatest goal in life, to be a better father than his future self had been. To actually be there for the girls.
"Yeah, Auntie Lissa's scary when she's mad," Lucina giggled, bouncing up and down a little. "Who's fighting next?"
"I dunno, honey," Chrom said, leaning forward to rest his palms on the railing next to his daughter. "We were lucky to make it in time for the semi-finals, but we missed the other fights."
"It is Princess Cynthia and young Miss Kjelle who are the next combatants."
Chrom and Lucina both winced at the steely tone of voice from behind them, slowly turning around to come face-to-face with a frowning Frederick. The Knight Commander was still a threatening figure, even outside of his armor and in his neat dress uniform. He snorted and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring down at the two royals.
"Busted…" Lucina muttered, positioning herself slightly behind her father.
"Er… eh-heh… Frederick, old friend, I can explain," Chrom laughed awkwardly.
Just then any actual explanation was cut off by the crowd erupting as two women jogged out onto the field, one waving and hopping around as the other stoically approached the starting area.
"Perhaps you had best save any excuses for after the bout, Milord," Frederick shouted above the crowd. "After all, it would be remiss of me to not allow the young Princess to watch her sister fight."
"Really!?" Lucina asked excitedly. "Thanks, Frederick! You're the best!"
The young girl rushed up, giving the Knight Commander a quick hug around his waist before going back to her position perched on the stone railing, shouting encouragement to her time-travelling sister, her small voice becoming one with that of the rest of the crowd.
"After all, it is not I you will need to explain yourself to," Frederick added into Chrom's ear as he stepped past the Exalt. "Queen Sumia is already on her way to watch the finals."
Chrom actually paled at the thought of facing his wife's wrath.
"Y… yeah," he muttered, moving to his daughter's side.
I'm a dead man, he thought sullenly as the fight started.
Chrom was so preoccupied with thoughts of his wife's anger that he didn't notice Frederick glaring up at the East Khan's box, where the Shepherds had watched the previous tournament from.
Cynthia hopped up and down a little, still not entirely comfortable fighting on foot. It wasn't that she couldn't fight on foot, and the fact that she had made it to the semi-finals of the tournament was testament to that, but so far all she'd fought were Feroxi soldiers, most only around her age and none having gone through the rigorous survivalist training she had. Years ago she wouldn't have even considered this; she had always been clumsy, uneven on her feet as a youth, but years of training and fighting had fixed that. It just felt strange after so many years not to be fighting atop Palla. Even the pegasus herself had been far from happy about being left in Basilio's stables.
But this was a knight's duty, saving people. If she had to fight on foot, naked with nothing but a branch for a weapon she would find a way, because that's what heroes did. That's what Robin had done in Valm, that's what Lucina had done back in the future, and Cynthia would be damned if she let anyone else save Regna Ferox from a crazy tyrant exploiting some ancient loop-hole to seize power.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen!" Basilio thundered. "The second of the semi-final matches!"
The crowd erupted into cheering again, making Cynthia's stomach back-flip with nerves. She watched as the grinning Vaike held Lon'qu up, the swordsman's arm draped over one of his big shoulders as they exited the arena together. Both were battered and bloody, but Vaike would be who she fought in the finals. The axeman gave her a little wink as he dragged Lon'qu past her, the challenge in the motion clear.
"Hailing from Ylisstol, one of the finest Pegasus Knights ever to fly," Basilio announced. "A member of the prestigious White-Wings, Deputy Commander Cynthia of the Ylissean Pegasus Knights!"
Cynthia took a deep breath and ran out onto the arena floor, holding her lance up high and smiling radiantly at the crowd. As she reached the center of the arena, stained red with blood from the other fights, she struck a pose, spreading her legs wide and making a peace sign over her face.
"For justice!" she shouted, much to the approval of the crowd.
Across from her Kjelle was already jogging out onto the field, her stern features set in a frown as she practically ignored the crowd.
"Oh-ho! It looks like her challenger's an excitable one!" Basilio announced. "Also hailing from Ylisse! A knight of the realm and warrior unmatched! Daughter of the Knight Commander, Kjelle of the Ylisstol Knights!"
Kjelle raised her spear in salute to the Khan as the crowd cheered, both women already having garnered large fan bases from their previous fights.
"I always wanted to fight you," Kjelle said, pointing her lance directly at Cynthia. "I never could, though. What Knight points a weapon at their Princess?"
Cynthia laughed, twirling her lighter spear around her shoulders and into a ready position.
"I'm just another Knight, now," she said with a grin. "Just like you. But know that I am justice, and justice always prevails!"
Kjelle's frown turned up a little, but she shook her head and threw her large kite-shield to one side.
"It's better this way," she shouted over the crowd's roaring approval. "No titles protecting you, no shield protecting me!"
Cynthia bounced up and down a little, her grin only widening.
"You just threw away your only advantage here," the blue-haired woman laughed.
They stared at each other, both tensing as the crowd chanted around them, waiting for the signal to begin.
"Show us what you've got, girls!" Basilio shouted. "Begin!"
Cynthia wasted no time, darting in low and fast. One thing she'd learned from fighting the bigger Feroxi warriors was that her main advantage was speed. Another thing she'd learned watching Vaike and Lon'qu duel was that she couldn't be pinned down like the swordsman had been.
Kjelle may have been big, but she was by no means slow, though. With speed rivalling Cynthia's own the knight brought her own lance around in a wide arc, knocking Cynthia's aside and spinning to bring the haft down on her head. The lithe Pegasus Knight rolled, coming up and sweeping her spear out.
Her eyes widened when the spear bounced off Kjelle's thick greaves, the other woman barely even rocking with the impact.
"Oh…" Cynthia muttered, quickly leaping to her feet and backpedaling.
"Oh is right," Kjelle laughed, advancing slowly.
Cynthia grimaced, holding her spear out in front of her. Of course Kjelle wouldn't even flinch from a hit like that; she'd been like a brick wall even before they had travelled back in time, and now… now she was an immovable object.
Shaking her head Cynthia forced herself to relax.
"No one is unbeatable!" she announced, lunging high with her spear.
The short-haired woman dodged back, Cynthia's spear flying past her unarmored face. Cynthia knew, from years of helping each other with armor maintenance, that Kjelle's had three weak points; the unarmored head, the straps below the arms that held the breastplate in place, and as Robin had once demonstrated the size of the armor making it difficult for her to turn quickly.
With this in mind Cynthia stabbed again at Kjelle's side, grinning when the other woman caught her spear. Sacrificing her main weapon as a feint Cynthia threw herself into a roll beneath Kjelle's own lance, coming up behind her and drawing the small dagger she kept strapped to her calf. Cynthia came up just as Kjelle dropped her spear, pressing the dagger to the bigger woman's throat.
"Yield," Cynthia said, panting.
Kjelle froze and narrowed her eyes, clearly wondering if she could turn this around somehow by taking the wound like Vaike had done. Cynthia pressed harder, and a single line of red ran down from where the knife met her neck.
With an exasperated sigh Kjelle dropped her lance, raising both hands in defeat.
"Whoa! Did you see that!? That was awesome!" Morgan shouted, jumping up and down in her seat.
Say'ri chuckled, caught up in the festive atmosphere as the second semi-final fight ended in the young Pegasus Knight's victory.
"Princess, please control yourself," Kei'ji sighed.
"It was a fine duel," Sei'ko chuckled, placing a subtle calming hand on Morgan's arm.
Say'ri nodded, glancing up at the other viewing boxes around them. Virion and Cherche next to him were doing the same.
"Does something feel… strange to you, my Queen?" Virion asked in a low voice.
Say'ri nodded slowly, narrowing her eyes.
There was a foul presence in the air, one making the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Subtly, so that the others wouldn't notice, Say'ri loosed her blades in their sheathes.
Chrom clapped as Lucina screamed herself hoarse along with the crowd around them, grinning like the proud father he was.
"Did you see that, Frederick!?" Chrom shouted above the crowd. "Who do you think taught her to…? Frederick?"
The big knight had gone stiff, frowning up at the box that would seat the East Khan for the tournament.
"She's early," he muttered.
Chrom looked up, too, his good mood fading somewhat as he realized that Frederick was right; up in the Khan's box there was a flurry of activity as Idallia arrived. Bellow them the crowd was taking notice, too, becoming quiet and staring up with craned necks. The Eastern Khan hadn't left her quarters since securing the position months ago; this was her very first public appearance, and people were curious. Chrom felt his chest tighten as he recognized one of the high-merchants from the south of Ylisse, surrounded by hooded and cloaked retainers.
On the field below the healers were just finishing with Cynthia as Vaike stepped out onto the sand for the finals match when Idallia spoke.
Or rather, someone spoke for her.
"Congratulations, Ylissean interlopers, for making it to the finals!"
The 'Khan' stood to one side as a man in heavy black armor strode to the railing of the box. Chrom instinctively reached out and pulled Lucina close to him as he saw the armor, his mood instantly souring.
"I'd keep your trap shut, boy!" Basilio thundered from the announcer's seat. "This is Western Regna Ferox's preliminary!"
A chorus of boos and jeers rose up from the rest of the Westerners in the stands. Behind the man Idallia flinched as the crowd heckled them, but the armored man seemed to just laugh.
"I suggest you sit there quietly until I've decided who's going to give you the beating you so clearly need!" Basilio finished, rising to his feet.
"That's got to be Maris," Chrom muttered to Frederick.
The big knight nodded his agreement as Lucina squirmed in her father's grip, trying to see what had the two men so on-guard.
"I had thought to make this fairer!" Maris laughed, earning more hate from the crowd. "Your two best against the East's champion!"
"I'm guessing that's him?" Chrom snorted.
"I'm guessing that's you?" Basilio shouted. "Sit down, boy! I applaud your courage, but-"
Before the Khan could finish Maris was already moving, jumping off of the high balcony and plummeting the thirty-odd feet to the ground. He landed heavily on his feet, knees bent to absorb the impact as if he hadn't just fallen thirty feet through the air, directly beneath the East's box on the arena floor.
Cynthia and Vaike instantly took up their weapons as the crowd screamed in excitement; the people wanted to see the blood of the men that had usurped Flavia as much as the Shepherds did, and now that the opportunity had arrived the crowd was in a frenzy.
"Frederick, take Lucina somewhere safe," Chrom said, passing his daughter over to the knight. "I've got a bad feeling about this."
"Aw, but I wanted to see the fight!" she groaned.
"Of course, milord," Frederick nodded. "But what will you be doing?"
Chrom pulled off his borrowed cloak and with one finger tugged loose the stifling collar on his uniform. He rested his hand on Falchion's hilt as he turned to grin at the Knight Commander, indicating down to the arena with a jerk of his head.
"I'm going down there to make sure that this is a fair fight."
Cynthia narrowed her eyes as the Eastern Champion unclipped the long cape from his back and let it fall forgotten to the floor of the arena. Next to her Vaike was warily eyeing him, too. Something wasn't right. Besides the obvious.
"Think we may have to postpone our fight, kid," Vaike grunted, shaking out his arms.
Cynthia nodded, a familiar sensation of danger spreading through her consciousness. The same sense she used to get from the Risen back in the future.
"Very well!" Basilio laughed above them. "If you wish to throw your claim to Khan Regnant away so easily, I'll approve this fight! Vaike! Cynthia! Destroy him for Western Regna Ferox!"
There was no further chance for conversation as the crowd thundered their approval of Basilio's decision, shouting encouragement to the two Shepherds or insults at the Knight.
With a dry laugh the Knight pulled a huge two-handed sword out of the sheathe on his back, the blade made of the same black material as his armor.
It made Cynthia's skin crawl. It was like he…
"Feel's like he's one'a the Risen, don't it?" Vaike muttered, narrowing his eyes.
Cynthia nodded, taking a calming breath. After fighting them for so long all of the Shepherds were familiar with the pervasive feeling of wrongness that came from Grima's servants.
But… Grima was dead and gone.
Cynthia gave her head a little shake, forcing herself to relax. She was a hero! She'd faced the Risen thousands of times in the past and the future, and never faltered before! So… why was she so scared of this man?
"I'll go high," Vaike said with a sideways glance. "You take out his legs. Poor bastard's got no idea what he's in for."
"Vaike, wait!" Cynthia cried, too late.
The big axeman let out a guttural cry, gripping his axe with both hands as he ran forward. Thanks to her training and experience Cynthia was only a step behind him, leading low with her lance to knock the feet out from under the knight.
She mentally braced herself all the same, though. Her instincts told her that, even together, she and Vaike were outmatched by this… thing.
Vaike's cry reached its apex as his axe came down from above while Cynthia skidded and spun close to the ground, her spear flashing out. Both blows failed to connect, Vaike's axe sliding down the knight's sword in a shower of sparks as the man stepped back slightly to avoid Cynthia's blow. With blinding speed he flipped his massive sword up and over his shoulder, the blade barely missing Vaike's face as the axeman threw himself back, landing flat on his rear. Cynthia moved in, determined to distract the knight until the older Shepherd was back on his feet.
She ducked beneath one of the knight's blows, throwing her hips back to avoid another and jabbed her spear towards his midsection. Her blow was true, but bounced off the man's thick armor.
Cynthia hopped back, her confidence sinking as the knight laughed at their attacks. Above them the crowd continued to roar, the sound starting to give Cynthia a headache. Beside her Vaike growled, kneading the haft of his axe.
"What the hell's this guy made outta?" he muttered irritably.
Cynthia didn't have an answer for him.
"Are you done?" the knight asked. "Is it my turn now?"
Without waiting for an answer the man threw himself forward, only to dodge to the side as a trio of lightning bolts made small craters in the arena floor. The crowd grew hushed as they struggled to comprehend what was going on beneath them, until fourth, hooded figure appeared on the arena floor.
The man in a familiar coat strode purposely forward, ignoring the questioning murmurs in the spectators as to why the match had been interrupted.
"Ladies and gentlemen of Regna Ferox, I apologize," Robin announced. "But this tournament is being postponed."
Robin glared down at the kneeling Maris as Vaike and Cynthia moved to his side, the crowd's dissatisfied muttering growing in volume.
"Robin, what the hell're-" Vaike started.
"Tactician!" Maris snarled beneath his helm. "Why must you constantly hamper my plans!? Everything here is perfectly legal!"
"Executive decision," Robin deadpanned. "I'm putting you down before you do something we'll all regret. Stand down, Maris, or I'll make you."
The ex-knight laughed as he rose back to his feet, resting his sword against one huge pauldron.
"You know, the Khan-woman said much the same thing," he sneered. "I'm sure you know how well that went for her."
"Bastard…" Cynthia growled.
The tactician held up a forestalling hand, stepping forward again.
"Grima's power is not to be trifled with!" Robin roared, his composure utterly evaporating. "There are only three people in this world capable of containing it, and you are not one of them!"
"Is that what this is!?" Maris laughed, looking down at the armor on his arms. "Does it even matter!? I'm even more powerful now than I ever was!"
"You're nuts!" Vaike exclaimed.
"Maris, I won't hesitate this time," Robin said, his voice lowering. "I've given you every chance to stop this madness. This is the last one. Take off that armor and burn it, and I'll show leniency."
"You and what authority, tactician!?" Maris snarled, levelling his sword.
"My authority. By order of the Exalt of Ylisse I command you to stand down, Knight."
Robin glanced over his shoulder as Chrom stomped out onto the arena floor wearing a crisp and neat dress uniform, Basilio not far behind him.
"I've had enough of this farce," the Khan spat. "You Ylissean bastards come into my home and trample my traditions and think you can get away with it!? No offense, Chrom."
"None taken," the Exalt snorted. "He's one of my subjects, though, so that makes this my problem, too."
Both rulers came to a stop at one of Robin's shoulders, glaring at the black armored knight.
"You heard them," Robin warned. "Give it up. You're outnumbered."
Maris' shoulders began to shake. However, rather than the outburst of rage Robin had been expecting, he was greeted by laughter. The same mindless, insane laughter that Gangrel had had. The same soulless, manic sound that Validar had made.
Maris laughed as he pulled the helm off of his head, and the Feroxi spectators screamed in terror at the sight.
"No, milords," Maris spat around pointed fangs through black lips, his skin an unnatural grey color shot through with pulsating lines of red.
The ground began to tremble beneath Robin's feet as a familiar malign presence flooded the arena. The people in the stands began to scream again as dust and loose stones started raining down from the ceiling. A web of cracks spread out from beneath Maris in all directions, blackened and decayed hands reaching up from beneath the earth. As Robin and the small group behind him began to back away dozens of Risen began to climb up out of the ground, ashen skin and dark leather masks and hoods exactly as he remembered them after so many years.
"You're outnumbered," Maris cackled triumphantly.
Robin ushered the group back out of the arena as the stands started to empty, Basilio practically dragging Chrom.
"I really need to learn how to do that," he muttered to himself.
The tactician let out a little groan as a familiar headache assailed him, feeling a sickening pulsating from his coat's pocket.
"Clear the arena!" Basilio shouted. "Get out of the Coliseum!"
The screaming in the stands grew to a fevered pitch as Risen began to appear amongst the spectators, claws and rusted weapons grinding against stone as they pulled themselves out of oblivion and into reality.
"Now begins the rule of House Rommel!" Maris announced, his voice tinged with laughter. "Kill anyone that will not submit! We will rule this nation, this continent and even this entire world or see it burned to ashes!"
He looked up to the East Khan's viewing box, his eyes starting to glow red as a gentle smile crossed his lips.
"Are you watching sister!?" he called out. "We've done it at last! The world rests in our hands!"
AN2016: Aaaaaaand we're back on track! Sorry for the long-ass wait, have a second chapter as apology. Sheesh… that was more work than I thought it would be… But we're finally back up to the post-take-down section of the story! Don't worry, I have an editor for A Song of Dusk and Dawn to make sure this crap doesn't happen there…