Chapter 17
The massive arena walls loomed before the assembled Shepherds, marching slowly and deliberately against the horde of shadowy Risen throwing themselves at the heroes. It was a joke, really. After the wars they had been through, the enemies they had fought, after killing the Fell Dragon himself, these Risen were little more than an annoyance. The Risen that had stepped on him outside of Southtown all those years ago had been stronger than these creatures.
Robin sighed, grimacing as a howl went up from the Risen and another wave began to charge.
"This is just sad," he muttered, shaking his head.
He didn't even have to try, simply obliterating the first rank of the monsters with a lazy, backhanded elfire spell. Chrom, Lucina, Vaike and Cynthia fell upon the rest of the creatures, grim faced at the monotony of killing the Risen like a chore now. Or in Cynthia and Vaike's cases just plain bored. The tactician glanced over his shoulder, a stone-faced Idallia at his side, her borrowed armor just a little too big for her slight frame and the slim sword looking oddly out of place compared to her thin arms. Maribelle hung close to them, her guard for this mission as the group's healer, and Tharja and her students were slightly further behind them with Gaius and Panne.
She glanced back at him, neither's expression changing, and Robin scoffed before he continued walking. What the merchant was doing with them was a mystery to him. She'd backflipped at the chance to put her rabid brother down now that he was a Grima-infested monster but this mess was still on her, as were the lives of the Feroxi that had died today. Lately, a lot of lives could be laid at her feet.
"If you're expecting me to stab you in the back, you're mistaken," Idallia said after a moment.
Robin smirked, absently lashing out at one of the Risen that slipped around Chrom and the others and reducing it to ashes with the point of his rapier with barely a thought. "Oh, I'm familiar with the old 'foe-to-friend' routine," he said conversationally. "My own sister spent quite a long time trying to kill me, actually."
"I can't imagine why," Idallia muttered sarcastically.
"I just hope you don't think we're going to show any leniency just because you've had a change of heart," Robin said, frowning.
"My heart remains steadfast," Idallia snapped. "However," she went on, her tone softening. "It is obvious that my brother's mind is no longer his own. I would see him put down, before he can sully our family name further."
"Right," Robin grunted. "Further than killing hundreds and forcing students out into the cold. It doesn't get much more sullied than where you're at, 'Khan' Idallia."
"Spare me your self-righteousness," she fumed, stomping past him. "I do not have to justify myself to you, of all people. What would you know of the burden of leadership, 'Prince' Robin, when you deserted your own nation and left it to rot?"
Robin froze, blinking a few times. He'd long ago put any thoughts of ruling Plegia to rest; Validar had been a usurper and had abused his power to bring the nation to the brink of ruin, killing hundreds of thousands of people in the process. Robin didn't deserve to lead them. He'd made his peace with that.
But Idallia's words still stung.
Arya took a few deep, calming breaths through her nose as they drew closer to the Arena again. Morgan, the Grandmaster Morgan of Ylisse, Princess of Chon'sin and daughter of the savior of Plegia, was at her side, whistling tunelessly as the marched over the ashes of the latest Risen to bar their path, the cloying purple-black ashes drifting up and becoming stuck in her throat with every breath she took. All around her the Shepherds, the real Shepherds that had slain Grima, spread out. And she was commanding them. Galle and Mari were at her back, and Kowrowa and Ita were among the press somewhere with Fae, but aside from them she was alone. And she was in charge. It was massively daunting, especially without Robin or Lucina there to be her safety net, but she had vowed not to let them down.
She would see the Rommel bastard dead, exorcise the demons that he had left in her mind and soul, and move on with her life. Just the thought of his rough hands on her flesh made her skin crawl, the memory bringing a spike of fear before she beat it back down. Not again. Never again.
"You okay?" Morgan asked from her side.
Arya glanced up, the older girl balancing the long sword she wielded across her shoulders as she looked at the younger girl with concern in her eyes. It was nice, at least, that Robin had seconded her to another Plegian.
"I know the Risen are pretty spooky," Morgan went on as they continued to advance. "But these ones are kinda weak, and we're old pros at killing them. You don't have anything to worry about."
Arya shook her head, her lengthening hair swaying with the motion. "It's not… that. I'm just looking forward to putting an end to M-Maris… before he hurts anyone else."
She internally cursed herself for stuttering, a habit that Arya had put great effort into breaking, and Morgan made a small sound of comprehension, her genial face dropping for a moment into something more serious before she grinned again.
"Don't worry, we'll get him," she promised. "I faced down Grima's Avatar myself once. This guy's got nothing on that monster."
Arya grinned a little and ducked her head reflexively as Morgan bumped her shoulder into the girl's, giving her head a little shake. She just had to keep telling herself that she wasn't the same child she had been when Maris had hurt her. It helped.
"Well, let's see what my dad's been teaching you," Morgan said, changing the subject. "You call it. I'll tell you if you're right or not."
Nodding and grinning again at the familiar way of phrasing Morgan had, Arya took a look at the assembled fighters. Mostly heavy infantry, with a few support fighters like the tacticians and mages. She didn't like the way they were spread out, though, especially if there were still as many Risen in the Arena as there had been before.
"Group up," she said. "If we're too spread out the Risen may slip through. We present a united front in an inverted horseshoe formation, mages and support in the middle and armored fighters on the outside."
Morgan nodded. "Good, I totally agree. That was an easy one, though," she added with a wink.
The older tactician began relaying orders, the Shepherds bunching up and taking on the formation that Arya had suggested almost instantly. Clearly they were used to operating as a unit, working together. She found herself pressed up against a lithe woman in gypsy's clothes, her pale pink hair all but shimmering as she held a well-cared for short sword. The woman took a moment to smile reassuringly at Arya before she went back to watching the front rank. Anna took up a position at her other side, the old bow she'd never seen the merchant actually use before currently resting in her hands as she gave Arya a little wink. Behind them Galle and Mari moved forward to reinforce the flank, keeping a careful eye on Arya. Honestly, she could do without the constant stares, but it was still reassuring in a way to know that she wasn't surrounded completely by strangers. The other tactician from Ylisse, the one with the big sword that had introduced himself as Isaac, had slipped a breastplate on over his crisp dress uniform and was watching the left flank now, too. The Risen were still intermittently throwing themselves at the Shepherds, but the masked creatures barely even slowed them down. Arya marveled at the sheer brutal efficiency that each and every one of them showed as they advanced on the Arena, the tall walls of the inner Coliseum looming up above them and casting the area into shadows.
"We're making good time," Morgan said over her shoulder from a little way ahead of Arya. "It'll be a close thing, but both teams should hit the Arena at the same time. We could wait, let the other team hit first if you wanted?"
"How do you know they won't wait?" Arya asked.
Morgan smirked. "Because Vaike and Chrom are on their team. Trying to hold back those two is like trying to hold back a herd of wild horses."
Arya grinned a little, considering this information before shaking her head. "Then I think we should just go for it. If they're not too far off then it should be fine."
Flashing another grin of her own Morgan nodded agreement. "Not exactly playing it safe, but I agree. Let's try and get this wrapped up before my Dad gets here. Give the call."
"Shepherds!" Arya shouted with only a moment of hesitation. "Into the Arena!"
There was a roar of approval as they started to move with more purpose, barely slowing as more and more of the weak Risen began to appear from the shadows of the Arena's outer walls. The group barreled through them, barely even pausing to catch their breath as the weak creatures were reduced to so much ash underfoot. It wasn't until the sand of the Arena floor became visible through the columns that held up the upper tiers and seating that their advance finally stalled, the Risen finally showing an organized resistance.
In the front of the horseshoe formation a younger man with hair the colour of pinkish steel gave a grunt, catching a blow from a wicked looking axe on the upper shield section of his steel armguard.
"They're finally starting to get some fight into them!" he called out in warning.
The Shepherds' advance finally slowed, the stronger creatures finally grinding their charge to a stand-still. The front line clashed with Risen creatures with actual weapons, rough iron blades and simple clubs battering at the Shepherds' shields and armor as they struggled to push through. Arya noted with some concern that a few of the Shepherds were beginning to suffer minor injuries now, but two stunning women stepped forward with staves in their hands. One was wearing her armor over an Ylissean dress uniform, red hair cascading down the back of it, holding the shorter staff with one hand as she held her lance aside with the other. The other wore light silver armor over white robes and carried a heavy and wicked looking axe, her long platinum blonde hair perfectly straight as it cascaded down her back.
The woman in white healed a gash on the pinkish-haired man's arm, clapping him on the shoulder before moving away.
"Thanks dad!" the man called after-
"Wait, that cleric is a man!?" Arya asked, eyes going wide.
Morgan snorted, bursting into laugher and holding her stomach with one hand as she doubled over.
"And Libra's legacy of being the prettiest man in the army continues," Anna sighed.
"I did try to convince him to grow a beard," the woman wearing gypsy's clothes muttered.
"Focus!" Queen Say'ri snarled over her shoulder from the front line.
"Ooh, we got in trouble," Anna giggled under her breath.
Morgan took a deep breath, still smirking as she surveyed the situation again as she tossed a spell over the front line and incinerated another of their attackers in a flash of white-hot flames. The Shepherds had just about dealt with the Risen at this point, a few of them falling back a little from where the last of the creatures were being mopped up to take care of their wounds or sip from waterskins that the gypsy lady was passing out.
"Okay guys, keep at it, we're almost there," Morgan called out.
"Easy for you to say," Galle grumbled. "We're doing all the work!"
The Plegian tactician let out a grunt as Mari subtly elbowed him in the ribs, shooting him a weak glare. Arya had to stifle a giggle at the couple's behavior as Morgan started talking.
"They'll probably be stronger once we get into the arena," she warned. "If he has even half a brain left Maris will be keeping his best in reserve because he knows we're coming. Everyone ready?"
A chorus of affirmatives met Morgan's question, and the tactician turned to Arya with another grin, bouncing the almost absurdly long sword up and down on her shoulder.
"Give the word, Arya."
"Shepherds, advance!" Arya called out. "Maintain formation and… uh… advance."
Mari and Galle snickered a little at her lame ending, but the rest of the Shepherds seemed to take it in stride. A few grins broke out, but no one else laughed as Arya's face burned bright red with embarrassment.
As the group began to head towards the arena floor where they had left Maris, Morgan put a hand on Arya's shoulder to get her attention. "I'm going to swap out Galle and Mari with Anna and myself, okay? You've done really well today, so stay close to them and don't get killed."
Arya just nodded, and Morgan gave her shoulder another pat before she jogged ahead toward Galle and Mari. Anna gave her a wink as she passed, catching up with the tacticians and slipping into the flank seamlessly with Morgan as the other younger tacticians pulled back. As she moved the merchant slipped her bow beneath her cloak and drew a short, thin sword of her own. The movement was so perfect it was almost as if it had been choreographed by a dancer; there hadn't been a single moment where there had been a break in the formation.
"Having fun yet?" Galle asked sarcastically as he and Mari came alongside the younger girl again, their coats and weapons caked in the purple Risen ashes.
The other Plegian was irritably patting at his coat, trying to get the persistent layer of ash to come off of his prized garment, but Mari just impassively ignored it. Arya did, however, catch her sneaking a glance at Galle and smiling ever-so-slightly as he was cursing under his breath. Arya couldn't help but grin, feeling a small iota of confidence returning as they entered the arena proper.
As quickly as that feeling of confidence materialized, it evaporated upon seeing the ocean of Risen waiting for them. The Shepherds' formation came to a shuddering halt, eyes collectively widening as a few of the more vocal members let out groans or curses.
"Miss Fae, if you would be so kind?" Morgan called.
From the back of the group, where Kowrowa, Ita and Fae were lingering and conserving their energy, came a cheerful "Okay!" followed by the familiar popping, tearing sound of a transformation. In a matter of moments a draconian shadow loomed of the Shepherds, and Fae let loose with a mighty roar. The accompanying flames shot forth from her maw, emerald green fire reducing the majority of the Risen to ashes in an instant and creating a huge space before the Shepherds. Still, however, there were hundreds more where those came from.
Without warning Fae let out a pained groan and the shadow of the dragon above the Shepherds disappeared as she reverted to her human form.
"Fae!?" Arya called over her shoulder.
"There's… so much of Grima's essence floating about in the air," the manakete responded, her voice thick. "It's making me sick… I don't think I can transform again…"
"You heard the dragon, Shepherds!" Morgan called. "Let's take care of these jokers before the others get here! Olivia, check on Fae, everyone else, forward!"
The pink haired gypsy woman nodded, hanging back to where the two wolf shape-shifters were kneeling next to the manakete as the Shepherds surged forwards. Arya hesitated, concern for her friend turning into indecision as the rest of the Shepherds moved away from her. Galle and Mari waited silently, clearly wanting her to make the decision. As if sensing her gaze, Fae glanced up and gave Arya a weak smile and a little wave, and the Plegian girl let out a breath as she turned away and began jogging to catch up with the Shepherds.
"Took you long enough, but still. Good call, kid," Galle said quietly.
Arya just nodded, forcing herself to focus on the Risen. She hadn't spotted Maris yet, which was strange given the fact she'd last seen him riding around on a two-hundred kilo gryphon and she doubted he'd be far away from such a trump card. Ahead of them the Shepherd line met the Risen, Morgan giving a savage shout and swinging her long sword in a great arc to create a wave of dark energy that scythed down the front rank of the creatures.
"Do not use Sol to channel dark magic!" Queen Say'ri called out irritably.
"But it looks so cool!" Morgan called back.
"That is an ancient relic from our homeland and you will treat it with the respect it deserves, or so help me I'll take it away from you!"
"Yes, mom…"
Arya was stunned that they could have so casual a conversation while slaying Risen, almost as an afterthought. Both women hadn't stopped their attacks for a moment during their little exchange, even more of the creatures falling beneath their blades. Similarly, some of the other Shepherds almost looked bored now. The Risen were attacking in waves, like before, but nothing managed to get around the Shepherds' line. The way that the creatures threw themselves against the unyielding wall of Shepherds almost made Arya think that…
"This is a trap!" she shouted, trying desperately to get Morgan's attention.
"Yeah, I know," the older tactician shrugged.
Arya goggled in shock for a moment before Morgan snickered. "Best way to deal with a trap is to just spring it. I'm wondering what Maris is playing at, though…"
Morgan trailed off, glancing up as the perpetual smirk fell off her face.
"Incoming!" she shouted.
Arya glanced up in time to see a massive shape leaping from the East Khan's balcony and barreling through the air towards them. Just before it hit the hard-packed earth of the arena floor the gryphon extended its wings and gave a mighty flap, buffeting the Shepherds with wind as it made a low pass over the front line. With surprised yelps three of the Shepherds, the steel-haired man, another man in armor similar to Queen Say'ri's, and Severa, were thrown from their feet as they deflected the gryphon's razor sharp talons. As the creature rose back up into the sky a black armored form dropped from its back, ignoring the uniform howl that the remaining Risen gave as they redoubled their efforts against the Shepherds.
"Maris!" Morgan growled. "I was wondering when you'd show up. You know, for someone who's caused all this trouble I was expecting something a little more… I dunno. Threatening? I'm not impressed."
"You talk a lot," the former knight hissed, his voice muffled by the helm he wore. "Just like him… you stink like him too… the tactician…"
"Who, my dad?" Morgan asked curiously.
Maris froze for a second before his shoulders began to tremble with laughter. Behind him the gryphon hit the ground, letting out an ear-piercing squawk as it began to bat at the Shepherds with its massive front paws, Risen pouring around it. Maris, still laughing, threw himself forwards blade-first, crashing into Morgan's guard so hard he actually pushed her back.
"You're his daughter!?" the former knight snarled. "Excellent! Beautiful! I'll kill you and give him your head before I kill him!"
"You can try," Morgan said, her grin at odds with how strained her voice was. "Honestly? Still not all that impressed."
With a grunt Morgan swung her ancient sword, another flare of dark magic accompanying the blow and throwing Maris back, a thin scar appearing across the front of his armor where he hadn't been able to block. The tactician leapt at him this time, bringing her long sword back around in another arc to behead the former knight. Maris caught her weapon with his own, snarling wordlessly as they pushed against one another, neither able to force the other back.
Arya watched, her awe warring with the terror she felt as she watched the Grandmaster dueling with the former knight. Beside her Galle and Mari stood with their weapons ready, prepared to leap in and assist Morgan, but there was no opening to do so. The two duelists separated and struck blows against each other that the three could barely see, and even Arya could tell that they'd only get in the way. Behind the duel the other Shepherds were busy with Maris' crazed gryphon and the rest of the Risen, seemingly stronger now. Or perhaps, Arya realized, the Risen had been faking their weakness. It had been a trap all along.
Maris had played them, drawing them in perfectly.
Even if Morgan had known the extent of his trap she was busy fighting the man now herself, and from what Arya could see they were evenly matched. Maris mirrored her every blow, utilizing the shorter reach of his sword to slip around Morgan's own and strike twice when she would only strike once. But Morgan made up for her lack of speed with reach, dancing out of his range and striking with the tip of her own sword, scoring his armor without taking a hit herself. This didn't escape the larger man's notice, either, his blows now being accompanied by enraged grunts and shouts as Morgan danced between them.
"Come on, Maris," Morgan sighed eventually, stepping back from their duel. "You can't hit me. You can't even touch me. I faced down the Fell Dragon himself and held him at bay. You can't beat me."
The large former knight's shoulders heaved as he took a step back himself, quickly glancing around and taking stock. The Risen were still distracting the majority of the Shepherds, both sides unable to gain a clear advantage against the other; the Risen had numbers, but the Shepherds had skill and experience. Maris turned back to Morgan, and Arya could tell that he was grinning beneath his helm. She shuddered, recalling when he had turned such a grin on her.
"I don't need to touch you. You may be untouchable, true…" he rasped, his voice rough as he turned slightly and his gaze fell on the other tacticians. "But them? The manakete and the kids? I don't think you can protect them and yourself."
Morgan's eyes widened as Maris dashed forward, aiming straight for where Arya, Galle and Mari were waiting. Before she could intercept him, though, Maris' gryphon fell on Morgan from above, forcing her to dodge aside and defend against the monstrous thing.
Arya's heart almost stopped as Maris charged at them, Mari and Galle valiantly stepping forward to meet him. It wasn't nearly enough, though. Maris sent Galle flying with a vicious backhand strike, the boy's head snapping aside with an audible crunch as he few through the air.
Mari was much less fortunate. Giving a Chon'sinian warcry she rushed forward, meeting Maris' blade on her own. To her credit she barely flinched as Galle went flying, deflecting Maris' blow downwards and bringing her own sword up to strike at his throat. Only her sword wasn't there anymore. She stumbled back, glancing down at the arm lying on the ground in a growing pool of blood. Her blood, she realized, as she looked at the stump where her arm had once been, neatly severed halfway down her bicep. Maris didn't even slow, mercilessly driving his knee into her face and casting her aside as he stomped forward.
"I know you," Maris practically purred as he spotted Arya. "You're that little bitch that sold our shipping routes to that black market dealer, right? I'm going to enjoy taking another turn at you-"
With vicious howls Kowrowa and Ita descended on the former knight now, brushing past a frozen Arya to cut Maris off mid-rant. Morgan gave a pained shout as she continued to try to get around the gryphon, her face contorted by rage now as she saw her father's students injured or killed. Arya just sunk to her knees, tears running down her face now as she looked at her two fallen friends, felled by the same man that had almost killed her... Galle wasn't moving, and Mari had curled into a ball as she silently tried to staunch her bleeding. A hand on her shoulder made her jump as Fae, pale and unsteady, began to pull her away from the ensuing carnage as a trembling Olivia stepped between them and Maris.
Kowrowa, the larger of the two shape shifters, had latched onto Maris' sword arm while Ita snapped at his legs, his face and neck, whatever she could get at around his flailing off-hand. Maris simply roared, batting her away with the body of her partner before bringing his mailed fist down on Kowrowa's head. The wolf let out a yelp, his hold weakening enough for Maris to tear him off his gauntlet and throw him bodily at the recovering Ita.
A few of the frontline had noticed their predicament now, Owain and Isaac rushing to help. Screaming, the two men descended on Maris. Owain was the first to finally land a blow on the former knight, his sword striking deep into the man's flank as he brought his weapon up to defend against Isaac's bigger sword. With a pained shout he kicked Owain in the gut and spun, his blade flashing.
In a fine mist of blood Isaac's head flew from his body, followed by a torrent of viscera as his body sank to its knees and toppled over.
"Isaac!" Galle cried, climbing unsteadily back to his feet, blood running from the corner of his ruined mouth.
Maris laughed, a deep, booming sound as he stomped forward. Olivia stepped forward again, holding her sword in a single-handed grip. The unarmored woman had stopped shaking, but the former knight dwarfed her the same way he did Arya. He paused for a moment, seemingly insulted that she would even try to face him, but that moment of over-confidence was the opening she had been waiting for. Like a flash of lightning Olivia leapt forward, spinning through the air and bringing her sword down on Maris' neck. With a grunt the big man threw himself backwards, but Olivia didn't let up. Her blows were like quicksilver, her sword a streak of silver light in the dim arena, her ethereal grace dropping Arya's jaw. The assault barely lasted a few seconds, but already she had chipped off great rents in Maris' black plates, such was the speed of her strikes. As she spun away her beautiful hair and clothes flicked out, and the former knight caught her hair in one meaty fist.
"Should've dressed for battle and not the whore house, bitch," Maris seethed.
Before she could even struggle Maris ran Olivia through the back, his sword protruding from her chest in a spray of blood just beneath her left breast. Her eyes and mouth wide in a wordless scream, Olivia dropped to the arena sand in a heap. Libra and the younger man he'd healed before both let out enraged howls as they tore into the Risen with reckless abandon now, trying to get at Maris with murder in their eyes.
Still shaking and hardly able to stand Fae moved between Arya and Maris, a defiant grin on her face as she looked up at the big man. Before the former knight could cause further havoc among the weaker Shepherds, though, there was a flash and a sound like a thousand thunder-strikes, accompanied by the pained cry of an animal cut short. Arya looked up thinking Morgan had finally used some spell to kill the gryphon, but the young Grandmaster looked just as lost as she did at the sudden annihilation of the corrupt gryphon.
"Maris Rommel!" a familiar voice boomed, full of rage.
Everything in the arena seemed to come to a halt as Robin strode in from the other end of the space, his face a mask of white hot rage as he led the Shepherds. With one spell Robin had reduced Maris' gryphon to a red smear on the arena sands.
Without waiting for orders or confirmation Exalt Chrom let out a howl, blue flames practically exploding from his sword as he charged forward with the rest of the Shepherds into the rear of the Risen formation. Lady Tharja's mages stepped forward, a torrent of spells and dark energy raining onto the Risen as the rest of the angered Shepherds caught the Risen between them and the remainder of Morgan's team. Libra and the other man darted towards Olivia as another blonde woman with a healing staff appeared from behind Robin, moving towards where Galle was now cradling a deathly pale Mari at a dead run.
Maris simply grunted in the face of this new threat, tearing his damaged and dented wrist guard off and casting the black plate aside.
"About time you arrived, tactician," he shouted. "I was getting bored killing your underlings!"
Another thinner form stepped up beside Robin, Idallia Rommel wearing a look of terrified disgust on her face in the wake of her brother's carnage.
"Ah, sister! I was wondering where you had gotten to! I was so worried about you, you know? Come, let's-"
"Enough!"
Maris stopped short at his sister's shrill cry, hesitation sneaking into his posture. "Sister?" he asked uncertainly.
Before either could say anything else Robin took Idallia by the wrist, and with a flash of light they teleported across the arena, standing between Maris and Arya's little wounded group. Idallia swayed, gagging at the sudden teleportation, but Robin was unfazed, looking at Maris with barely contained rage.
"What have you done to my sister, you-"
Before Maris could finish Robin brought his hand up, blasting Maris with a spell so powerful it literally shook the ground with its passing. When the light and smoke cleared and Arya could see again she gasped. Maris stumbled, falling to one knee and clutching at the ruined stump of his shoulder, his sword and his entire arm simply gone.
"How do you like it, you son of a bitch?" the older tactician growled softly as he slowly began to advance.
Maris brought his hand away from his shoulder, sticky black blood coating his gauntlet and oozing from the wound now. He seemed confused, looking back and forth between where his arm had been vaporized and the corrupt blood coating his hand as if he were unable to comprehend what had happened.
"Wh-what?" he managed to rasp. "S-sister? What just… s-sister!?"
The ex-knight looked up, tearing his helm off with his remaining hand and let out a wordless scream before looking up again. He gazed imploringly around Robin to where Idallia was standing before Arya and Fae, his face contorted in confused pain.
"What's going on, sister?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "We… we followed the plan exactly? Why… why am I bleeding? Where is my arm!? What happened to my damn arm!?"
"I told you that you were messing with powers beyond your ken, Maris" Robin said calmly. "There's only three people in this world capable of containing it. You are not one of them."
"Liar!" Maris screamed, lurching to his feet. "I… I… I summoned these Risen! I command them! I'll, I'll summon more!"
The former knight, manic now, thrust his remaining hand at the ground. After a moment nothing happened, and his eyes widened further.
"How-"
"I am the literal Avatar of Grima," Robin continued in his eerily calm voice. "You don't seem to understand, so I'll spell it out for you. All of those Risen? They don't belong to you."
Maris turned, his face becoming a paler shade of grey. Arya had to stifle a gasp as the Risen all collapsed into ashes at once, dropping their weapons and simply disintegrating. The Shepherds, as one, moved to surround Maris now. As if all of this had been part of the plan.
"Usurp as much of his power as you want," Robin growled, pulling a strange, black-bladed dagger out from behind his back. "It won't be enough."
"Maris Rommel, in the name of the Exalt of Ylisse I find you guilty of treason and subversion of my authority," Chrom declared. "The sentence for these crimes is death. What say you, Khan Basilio, Khan Idallia?"
"Death's too good for him," Basilio spat.
Maris spun again, his face dejected as he looked to his sister. She wouldn't meet his gaze, looking to the ground. "In the name of Regna Ferox I agree with the Ylissean Exalt. Your sentence is… death."
"No!" Maris screamed as tears began to run down his face, falling to his knees. "I did all of this for you! All of this! I… I became a monster so we could create a utopia in the north! Why!? Why are you betraying me!? Sister, please! I love you! I understand you more than anyone else ever will! You're the same! You're all I have left, please don't abandon me! Please! Help me! Don't… don't let them kill me!"
The former knight looked up as Robin loomed over him, glaring down dispassionately.
"Are you going to do it this time?" Maris hissed, his breathing ragged. "You've already taken everything from me. You took her from me you bastar-"
Without a sound Robin drove Raziel, the dagger made from one of Grima's fangs to be Falchion's foil, through his armor and into his heart. As Maris died his head lolled to one side, a shocked, questioning gaze falling on his sister as his last breath left his body with a quiet sigh.
The next few hours passed in a haze for Arya. She was practically bundled away from the battlefield in the arena with the other wounded and put in a quiet corner of the tent that the rest of the injured were recovering in to calm down. She hadn't known what to do, so she just sat there, waiting for someone to come find her.
Olivia had arrived first, leaning heavily on the steel-haired man's shoulder. He'd set her down on the opposite side of the tent, and the two were still talking in hushed whispers. Eventually Galle arrived, too, silently slouching down next to her. His face had been healed, but he couldn't disguise the pain in his eyes as he waited for Mari'ko. Arya glanced up at him, the older Plegian boy staring into space, and on impulse reached out and took his callused hand in one of hers. He barely seemed to register the move, but the way that his fingers tightened around hers brought her back to earth, grounding her and finally letting her begin to process what had happened.
Eventually Galle gave a great sigh, his grip on her hand loosening. "Well. Today sucked."
"Y-yeah," Arya nodded, not sure what to say.
"How are you holding up?"
"I… I'm not sure," Arya admitted quietly. "After all this time he's finally dead… after all the things I saw him do… all the things he did to me… but in the end I… I-I was t-totally useless…"
"Yeah, lotta that feeling going around right now," Galle muttered darkly.
"I'm so sorry," Arya said, her voice a shaky whisper. "B-because of me… you a-and Mari… you were… a-and Isaac…"
"We would have gotten our asses kicked if you were there or not," Galle said softly. "I'm glad you were there, honestly. Means that the ass-kicking at least meant something."
"I-is Mari…?"
"She'll survive," Galle sighed, his grip on her hand tightening again. "She was smart, used fire magic to cauterize the wound so she wouldn't bleed out."
They went silent again, taking solace in each other's presence and simply holding each other's hand. She clung to him for dear life, and he squeezed back just as hard. Neither knew how to cope with what had happened that day, what they had witnessed. The wanton carnage in the space of a few minutes chilled Arya's very soul, something she didn't think had been possible anymore. After another few moments Galle spoke again, his usually brusque and confident tone gone.
"I love her, you know," he muttered. "I've never said it. Not to her, or to anyone. I… for a moment there I was worried that I'd never get the chance to actually tell her. Grima, one of my best friends is dead, and all I can think is 'thank you to all the gods above that she's still alive'."
Arya remained silent, not knowing what to say. She hadn't known Isaac, nor had she ever had anyone close enough to mourn the passing of when she'd lived in the slums. Death had been her constant companion all those years, following behind her and taking indiscriminately, but never managing to overtake her. Once again she had managed to survive where others hadn't. That was what she was best at; surviving.
Galle gave a shuddering sigh, closing his eyes for a moment before speaking again.
"No one else is going to say it," he said, his voice thick. "Hell, that's probably why they sent me to wait here. But none of this was your fault, Arya. We… we were outclassed. Lady Morgan and, and that monster Maris, and Robin, they… they're all in a class way above our own. We weren't ready to fight on that level. I don't think we ever will be, to be honest. But nothing that happened was your fault."
"Thank you, Galle," Arya whispered, leaning against his arm and burying her face in his shoulder.
They remained that way until the light outside faded as the day wore on into evening, neither saying anything nor even needing to. Eventually a slumbering and exhausted Mari was brought in and set down near them, covered from the neck down in a white sheet. If not for the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed Arya would have mistaken her for dead, but Galle visibly relaxed when he laid eyes on her again, and still the two sat in silence.
For the first time since she was a child, since before the wars and Grima and all the suffering that had followed, Arya felt safe with another human being.
As Arya leaned against her friend, both of them watching over her other friend's recovery, she grinned a little to herself. She finally felt like part of a family again.
"I'd say it's about time we address the big fat Ylissean elephant in the room," Basilio declared.
The Khan and all the visiting royalty were seated or standing around in one of his audience chambers in the Lesser-Khan's quarters, Western Ferox livery still displayed proudly on every surface. Chrom had to smirk; Basilio may have been confident, but he was not fool enough to count his chickens before they hatched.
Say'ri glanced up from where Morgan's clerk and unofficial spymaster was bandaging a small gash on her forearm at the edge of her white armor plate, giving Chrom a meaningful gaze. Across the room Mustafa and Algol muttered quietly between themselves, and the Imperial Valmese delegation had declined to attend the meeting. There were probably going to be months of paperwork and diplomatic meetings to smooth this disaster over, but Chrom would deal with the extra work when it happened.
In the center of the room Idallia Rommel, Khan Idallia, stood proud and tall next to Basilio. The big man dwarfed the Ylissean merchant, even more-so now that she had shed her borrowed armor. Chrom did note that she still had her appropriated sword at her hip, though.
"Plegia will not involve itself with this matter," Mustafa declared. "As far as we're concerned this is an issue between Regna Ferox and Ylisse."
"You lot can clean up your own damn mess," Algol scoffed before sobering. "We'll be ready to account for the Ylissean slaves that the Prince feed in Saiqat, though."
"Horrible business, that," Mustafa sighed. "We'll make sure that Abdul hangs for it, don't you worry."
Chrom sighed and nodded gratefully. Another political nightmare for him to sort through, one the Council of Elders in Ylisstol and the regional Dukes and Lords were not being quiet about.
"Chon'sin, too, will not interfere in this matter," Say'ri said after a moment. "Fie, I should be thanking you, instead! Twas the most fun I've had in years!"
"Empress…" the black-armored General Kei'ji hovering at her side sighed.
The other warriors around the room chuckled a little at the Empress' candor. They all knew exactly what she meant; peace time was a welcome yet difficult time for war-leaders. They were all feeling it. Mustafa had lost mass in his arms, yet found it around his stomach, and Algol looked almost ten years older since the battle at Origin Peak. Say'ri, while still as beautiful as she always had been Chrom wasn't ashamed to admit, had more lines around her eyes and mouth, most likely from frowning rather than smiling. He knew that he, himself, had lost much of his muscle mass from his time fighting against Grima, but at least he could be confident he hadn't let his skills atrophy too badly after the day's tests. Sumia, too, even if she had taken more to being a mother and a Queen than a warrior in the last few years. Basilio had fared the best out of all of them, thanks to the warlike Feroxi way of life, but even his short goatee was mostly grey now.
"Well then, Basilio?" Chrom asked. "Guess it's up to us. What do you think?"
Idallia glanced up at the giant at her side, Basilio giving a thoughtful hum as he stroked the short beard on his chin and let the moment linger.
"As much as I hate to admit it," he said slowly. "Everything they did here in Regna Ferox was legal. Insofar as the Khan Meet is concerned. Her rank stands. Idallia is Khan of Eastern Regna Ferox, and cannot be charged for her minor transgressions."
There was a moment of silence, shocked gazes meeting Basilio's statement as the big Khan crossed his arms. Idallia, however, was by far the most surprised. Any other time Chrom would have found her wide eyes and gaping mouth comical enough to draw a laugh.
"But seeing as Eastern Ferox's Champion is dead," Basilio went on with a rougish grin, "I'd say that means you lost the Meet. So old Basilio is Khan Regnant once more."
"Well, we can all definitely agree on that," Sumia piped up from Chrom's side. "But letting Idallia keep her rank? Are you sure, Basilio?"
"Why don't we let the girl speak for herself?" the older man shrugged, glancing down at Idallia. "Well girl? Speak!"
She blinked at him in disbelief for a moment before shaking her head and pinching the skin between her eyes, a stricken expression on her face. "Either this is an incredibly cruel joke or you are completely mad. Either way, I'm not entirely happy with this outcome."
"I am getting on in years, I could be going senile already," Basilio guffawed before growing serious and addressing the room. "There's some truth to her plans and schemes, at least where Regna Ferox is involved. We have resources aplenty, but the majority of our people are warriors, not farmers or miners or even lumberjacks. We have no knowledge of these things, or too little and too spread out. It was made worse after fighting with Plegia and Valm for so damn long. There's just too few of us left to go on the way we always have. We need infrastructure. We need a path into the future. We need a merchant. Simple as that."
As he finished he placed a hand on Idallia's trembling shoulder, glaring at the other leaders in the room as if daring them to disagree with him.
Say'ri was first to break the silence, sighing as she rotated her wounded wrist and tugged at the bandages. "Chon'sin stands by our declaration to have nothing to do with this, and we meant it," she said, rising. "If there is nothing else of import, I would see to my daughter. It has been far too long since she and I spent any time together not surrounded by aides and servants. Good day."
With that she rose and bowed to the assembled leaders, her attendants silently emulating her before following her from the room.
"I stand by my statement, too," Mustafa said, far less eloquently. "Exalt Chrom, I'll have my people contact yours in regards to this Saiqat business through the proper political channels. I think it would be best for both Plegia and Ylisse if we were as transparent about this as possible."
Chrom nodded, bidding the two Plegian men farewell. Now it was just the four of them in the room. Basilio clapped his hands, a grin rising to his face.
"Well, now that that's settled-"
"Are you all daft!?" Idallia practically shouted. "After everything I've done, all the people I've hurt, you're just going to… going to…"
"I was going to say 'now that that's settled we can talk about how you're going to make unofficial reparations to Ylisse'," Basilio said when Idallia calmed herself, quirking one shaggy brow. "You can start by footing the bill for Robin's new fort. Then you and I are going to Ylisstol to make a formal apology for your behavior. After that… you've got a lot of work to do."
"Idallia," Sumia said, rising from her seat next to Chrom's side.
Instinctively the Exalt flinched, Basilio shooting him a questioning glance. He couldn't help it. This wasn't Sumia his wife or Sumia the Pegasus Knight speaking right now; this was Sumia the Queen-Consort of Ylisse, and frankly that woman terrified him. He only had to deal with 'Queen Sumia' when he did something particularly stupid, or cop the periphery of her when she was scolding the girls, but it still made him flinch all the same. Her entire bearing changed. She became the perfect, indomitable, regal Queen that even his sister hadn't been.
"I want the truth," she said. "Did you have anything to do with the slaves in Saiqat? Answer me honestly."
"Of course not," Idallia said, holding Sumia's gaze. "I sent workers to Alvin's vineyards, but if I had known what he was doing I would have reported him myself. I sold contracts to Alvin, not the people themselves; contracts as easy to break as walking away. Everything I have done I still believe to be for the greater good; slavery is something I will never tolerate."
Sumia nodded, her face relaxing into a soft smile, and Chrom let out a subtle sigh as his wife returned.
"Good," Sumia said. "I'll take you for your word, then."
Idallia nodded slowly. "Are… you all daft?"
Basilio snorted before bursting into laughter, holding his stomach as his shoulders heaved.
"A little," Chrom shrugged, grinning as he stood to wrap an arm around Sumia's waist. "It helps when the paperwork piles up. You were a merchant, though, you'd have to have coping strategies for the paperwork."
"I drank," Idallia deadpanned.
"I'll drink to that," Basilio laughed, turning on his heel and beelining for a side cupboard very conspicuously full of liquor. "Been a long day, anyone else want something?"
"Yes," Chrom, Sumia and Idallia all answered in unison.
Robin watched silently from a terrace in Basilio's suites as Maurice and Idallia's people led the citizens of the Coliseum back into the giant building, the mass exodus of Feroxi people being slowly undone now as they returned to their homes in the country's de-facto capital. The stink of smoke combined with Risen ash still tinged the air, but he guessed they wouldn't even notice.
With a shudder Robin leaned hard against the railing, resisting the urge to vomit. Grima's power had left its mark on him once more. He could feel without having to look that the cracks behind his ear had spread beneath his hair. The nausea was a symptom of him trying to force the fell energy out of his body so quickly, he knew, but the knowledge didn't really help.
His soul felt dirty. Befouled. How he could ever manage to hold Emm again he didn't know.
He'd finally, in his mind, crossed a line. It had only been for a brief moment, a fraction of a second, but he had controlled the Risen that Maris had summoned. He hadn't even known if he could, the spell leaping forth from his mind as naturally as breathing and allowing him to dispel them.
And the thought that it had been so natural, so easy, distressed Robin more than he cared to admit.
He didn't turn at the sound of footsteps on the stone floor behind him, rising back to his full height and allowing Idallia to approach him.
"I'm sorry for the loss of your student," she said after a moment.
"I'm not," he said, his voice hollow as he watched the Feroxi people. "He died doing his duty, protecting the people. His life was short, and his potential snuffed out far too soon, but it wasn't wasted. I can take solace in that."
Idallia came alongside him, nodding slowly. After a moment she spoke, her voice hoarse. "I… am to remain Khan. Khan Basilio was most insistent. I think he sees it as a punishment, almost; making me clean up the mess I made."
Robin glanced up at her, a slight frown tugging at his features beneath the unruly mop of his snow-white hair.
"I will still be travelling to Ylisstol," she assured him. "He and I both, actually. We have to decide how best to make reparation to Ylisse for what I and my companions on the Southern Merchant Council have done. It's… something that I feel I need to do."
"Accept punishment?" Robin asked, going back to watching the people.
"Atone," Idallia explained softly. "When all this started we… had the best intentions at heart. Regna Ferox is a land rich in resources, but with no infrastructure to make use of them. How much could Ylisse and the rest of the world benefit from the lumber and ores that this country simply doesn't have the resources to refine?"
"All this for wood and dirt?" Robin scoffed.
"I do not expect you to understand," Idallia said.
"Oh, but I do," Robin said, shaking his head. "That's the worst part. You had just motives and ideas, but you were too busy trying to line your own damn pockets in the process."
"Not everyone is as pure and noble as you and your friends," Idallia said, her voice almost ashamed. "Can you honestly tell me that you would have done what I plan to just to help the people? To gain nothing?"
"Yes," Robin said, his voice becoming a whisper.
"Then you are a fool," Idallia said, striding away. "And remember that your precious ideals are part of the reason we were led to this. You are no less guilty than I."
For the second time that day, Idallia's words cut Robin deeply. He had nothing to argue against her logic except that he was on the side of justice. Even if it didn't feel that way at present.
AN: I am so damn sorry it took me so long to upload this chapter. 2016 was a shit of a year, what can I say? I burned out something chronic. Hopefully the next chapter doesn't take so long to get up. Dollar for every time I've said that… I've got the rest of the story all planned out, and hopefully it won't take too long to do. Honestly, we're almost there, guys! … Naga I really want to move on to my next project already…
Yeah, I done goofed on the Idallia switching sides thing in the last chapter. I tried to subtly build up to it. But there was a lot to fix in this story, and I think that was one of the things I didn't do as much work on as I should have. Honestly I considered scrapping the previous chapter in its entirety. But I figured there's not really a lot of room for that kind of thing in the remainder of the story, so I decided to let it ride. And honestly, I didn't cheap out with the whole 'Robin absolutely f*cking annihilating Maris' thing in this chapter, either. I'd always planned for it to go down that way. Robin is the literal incarnation of Grima. Who's the Fell Dragon's power going to listen to more, am I right?
… not happy with this chapter, but it is goddamn time to move on. I can't believe I'm actually 17 chapters into this story… doesn't feel like it. Probably because I've been working on it for two damn years…
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