Despite his nervousness, Ashton was feeling pretty good about himself.
Pitching in to help rebuild Enbarr's walls, he found his new Crest to be invaluable; he did not tire, not even after hours of work, and even when he did, he felt right as rain the next day. There was no soreness, no issues. It was refreshing, helping to build something up rather than tear it down as he had done to so many others.
Of course, once that was done, Ashton found he had precious little to do other than train and attend church services, along with the other Knights of Seiros.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Ashton felt stable. It was a strange feeling, but he felt as if he could get used to peace time.
Ashton knew, however, that it would not last forever. At some point, Nemesis would return, but he knew that he'd be ready. And if Maurice were to come back with him, well, perhaps it would be time to finally put that feud to rest. Calling it a 'feud' felt as if he was doing it a disservice, even if it was one-sided.
Before long, however, Ashton had been pulled aside from a training session by none other than Lycaon himself.
"You have a gift, it seems," Lycaon said, leading Ashton into his office. "Directly from Saint Macuil himself."
Ashton's brow furrowed. "What? That does not sound right."
Lycaon grunted. "It is not entirely out of the question; Saladin received an axe just after the battle. Have you seen it?"
Ashton snorted as he entered the office after Lycaon, closing the door behind him. "I have not seen Saladin since just after the siege. I assumed he was on a mission."
"Hmm. Perhaps," Lycaon responded cryptically. "Nonetheless, a boon from a Saint is a high honor indeed, what's more, the Crest that is assigned to it."
Ashton felt the hair on the back of his neck bristle. A cold wind blew in from the windows nearby.
"The Crest of Seiros," Lycaon mused, sitting down as he rummaged with something underneath. "My father has it, a gift from Saint Seiros, and a blessing to our entire bloodline. I have it as well, and when I beheld this weapon, I could feel it resonate. The axe Saladin had been granted did not give the same feeling."
Ashton's lips formed a thin line as he refused to sit down, crossing his arms instead. "And what does all that tell you?"
Lycaon sat up and stared at Ashton for a few moments. Neither broke eye contact, not even when Lycaon spoke again.
"It is not my business," Lycaon replied simply standing up with something in hand. "The Emperor and his family, my family, may control the Empire, but the Saints are above us. The people follow us because we are blessed, not because we are the ruling family. What they decide to do has never been under our authority. I do wish to impart some wisdom upon you, before you tread further."
Ashton gazed at the weapon Lycaon held. It was a masterwork, not unlike what he had seen the Saints wield themselves. If Saladin had been offered one as well, then he was a lucky man. It was a warhammer, with one side flattened to a point while the other side had a hook-like sickle for peeling apart armor. The shaft was intricately decorated with engraved vines, and the entire weapon was silver and gold, like the armor of the Knights of Seiros.
"Wisdom," Ashton echoed. "I have been told a dozen times already that where I go, I cannot return from. I have accepted it, My Prince, and I am not afraid."
"Indeed? Now that is interesting," Lycaon replied, a smirk decorating the Imperial Prince's face. "Perhaps I need not worry, then. You are a decent enough sort. I only hope that whatever… relationships you have cultivated do not end in tragedy."
"I doubt they will, but I thank you for the vote of confidence," Ashton replied, barking a laugh as he held out his hands. "May I?"
"Of course, it was made for you, after all," Lycaon replied, handing the hammer to Ashton. "I realize you may be eager to try it out, and do not worry, I have a mission for you."
Ashton barely heard Lycaon as he held his new weapon, feeling its weight in his hands. It was surprisingly light for its size, and he could feel a connection to it, like with just a single touch it had become an extension of his being.
I could get used to this.
"Starstruck, are we?"
Ashton blinked, lowering his new hammer as Lycaon waved a hand in front of his face.
Bowing his head, Ashton said, "My apologies, Your Highness. It's just…"
"Oh, I know all too well. I felt it too," Lycaon nodded. "But do listen to what I have to say. It is rather important."
Placing the butt of the weapon on the ground and laying his hands atop its head, Ashton waited.
"Good. As I said, I have a mission for you, and Saladin as well. It should not take long, but it will give you both a chance to test your abilities," Lycaon said, turning around to sit at his desk again. "Do this task, and you will be given a battalion of your own to command in service to the Knights of Seiros."
Ashton's eyes widened. "You are giving us a promotion?"
"Not 'giving'," Lycaon replied, "Should this mission end poorly, I will not give you a chance again. Not for a long while, at least. Prove yourself capable of command, however, and I will see to it that you are given the station you deserve."
Ashton stood still for a few moments before bowing his head again. "I would be honored, Your Highness."
"The honor is mine," Lycaon responded, clasping his hands together. "Saint Seiros herself saw fit to bequeath unto you a Crest. I pray that her trust is not misplaced."
"Ah, before you tell me of it, I want to know: how long will this mission take?" Ashton asked suddenly, standing stock still.
Lycaon regarded Ashton with narrowed eyes. "No more than a month or so. The people I want you to track down are around Fódlan's Fangs, a small mountain chain to the northwest. I would have arranged for a ship to ferry you across the bay, but I am afraid that would alert the bandits to your presence."
"Bandits then, is it?" Ashton murmured. "There needs to be more to it, if you are using this as a test."
"As astute as ever," Lycaon chuckled, rapping his knuckles against his desk once. "You are correct. These are no ordinary bandits. At least, not their leaders. I have read reports that they are being led by two – a young man and woman, who fight with ferocity rarely seen outside of Nemesis' excursions."
Ashton blinked before his gaze hardened. "You think they are like Saladin. Children of the Elites."
"Precisely. I want you to bring them back alive," Lycaon said, "If they are anything like Saladin, then perhaps they can be reasoned with. No doubt they were left behind when Nemesis and his Elites fled from the Fangs. Prepare yourself, Ashton. You will be leaving within the week."
Ashton closed his eyes and nodded. "As you wish, Your Highness."
"Sent you with me, did he?" Saladin asked, crossing his arms as Ashton approached.
They were in the barracks stables, and Ashton could see that three wagons had already been prepared. He knew it was going to be a journey of days, possibly even a week, but the real time waster would not come from traveling; it would come from trying to find the bandits in question.
Time away from friends. Time away from Seiros. Nothing he hadn't gone through before, but the thought still made him anxious. Perhaps it was because he had everything stripped away from him once before. Nonetheless, he'd carry out his orders dutifully.
"Yes. How lucky you are," Ashton replied, patting Saladin on the pauldron. "It seems as if everyone can find out about my Crest, and now I am going with you."
"I see. And it had nothing at all to do with the hammer on your back?" Saladin asked, brow raised.
Ashton snorted. "Whatever could you mean, old friend?"
"Ah, playing the fool, as usual," Saladin mused, grasping the weapon at his own back. "I, for one, have been granted a boon for my service. Not that you would know anything of that, would you?"
The axe Saladin held was yet another masterwork, although far plainer than the weapon Ashton held. That did not diminish the power he could feel radiating from the axe. It was double-sided, with both heads looking as if they had been carved from moonlight itself.
"Looks as if you have a nice woodcutter right there," Ashton said, whistling. "Hopefully, we will not need it overmuch."
"You speak like a nobleman now," Saladin snorted. "You are free to relax. I doubt any of our men would judge you for speaking as you did."
Ashton shook his head. "I have a feeling I'll need to talk like that for the rest of my life, Saladin. Even if I don't need to. Besides, I don't mind it. It makes me feel sophisticated."
"It makes you sound like a lunatic," Saladin grunted, crossing his arms. The sun glinted off his white plate armor, and Ashton winced as it reflected into his eyes briefly. "You have spent too much time around Roland. Speaking as he does will not make the people respect you more. Only actions will do that."
"Then it is a good thing we are being sent to sack bandits, right?" Ashton said, holding his arms out to his side. "Let us mount up, then. I would rather not waste any time-"
Ashton saw her, just at the last moment, standing in the shadows and looking up to him from beneath a white hood. People passed her by like she wasn't even there.
"And then he stops talking. What was that about mounting up?" Saladin asked.
"Uh," Ashton muttered before shaking his head again. "Just a moment. I- It looks like I almost forgot something very important."
Saladin looked to where Ashton was staring, sniffed, and moved away.
"We are not moving out for another night. Take all the time you need, friend," Saladin whispered before moving away towards the prepared convoy.
Ashton nodded before moving forward at a brisk pace. He didn't run; didn't want to attract too much attention to himself. Once he was only a few feet away, however, he couldn't help it. He practically lunged forward, wrapping his arms around her.
"Did you really think I would let you leave without saying goodbye?" Seiros murmured, gently bring her arms up, placing one against Ashton's head and another against the center of his back as she pulled him further away from the light of day. "You are a foolish man, my dear Ashton, but I had thought better of you."
"I was caught up. I had a lot on my mind," Ashton replied quietly. "But if you are upset with me, I understand."
"Upset? No, not entirely. We still have the night before us," Seiros replied, bringing her other arm up so she cupped both of Ashton's cheeks in her hands. "I am just shocked that you would be so eager to leave."
"Heard that, huh? Figured," Ashton closed his eyes, enjoying her touch. "Eager to move out so that I could come back to you as quickly as possible. I know what is going to happen soon."
A small smile spread across Seiros' face. "I have faith that you will return before long. And when you do, I will be waiting for you. We have done this together; it is only fair that we experience it together."
"And I suppose I have you to thank for this new hammer, huh?" Ashton chuckled, pushing himself away and gesturing towards the hammer on his back. "I doubt Macuil would have made it or had it given to me out of the kindness of his heart."
Seiros nodded. "Such a weapon is customary for knights who possess a Crest, and you are no different, even if such knowledge is not public."
"Might not remain that way forever," Ashton replied, huffing. "The people who delivered it gave it to Lycaon first."
Seiros' brow furrowed. "The captain? Wilhelm's son? Oh, by the Goddess, were it not for his brilliant tactical mind I would have killed Macuil long ago! He must have known who it was to be sent to!"
"Hey now, it's a good hammer," Ashton said, unhooking it from his back and holding it in his hands. "Feels good to use, you know. Like it's a part of me."
"It resonates with your Crest; it is only natural. Anyone can wield this weapon if they possess the strength, but it will always be better within the hands of someone with its Crest," Seiros explained. "Ah, enough of that.
"Something else?" Ashton asked.
Taking in a deep breath, Seiros looked at him, her face set grimly. "Ashton, this may come as sudden, but perhaps my… pregnancy has made me rethink things. When you return, and when our child is born, I wish to show you something. I want to dispel whatever secrets remain."
"Secrets?" Ashton parroted, blinking. "Well, alright. I am unsure what other secrets you could be keeping to yourself, but if you want to tell me, I will listen."
"I want to tell you because it involves you, perhaps more than anyone else besides the other Saints," Seiros continued. "I just… I want you to promise me, when all is revealed to you, that you do not…"
Ashton hummed. "Abandon you?"
"That is not what I had in mind, but the sentiment is the same," Seiros finished. "I do not want you to feel as if you are trapped with me. This is of my own doing; I should have been upfront with it from the beginning, but whether it was because it merely slipping my mind, or I was afraid, it matters not. I did not wish to have you leave with these thoughts, but it needed to happen."
"Seiros," Ashton began, "no matter what it is, I doubt I will react the way you think I will. I promise you, I will not abandon you. I have already made that promise once before, have I not?"
"Indeed, you have," Seiros responded quietly. "I will need to be content with that, for now. But, even now, would you still come with me? For one final night?"
"For as long as I am able," Ashton said, hugging her.
Despite his words, Ashton was riddled with doubt, like a cancer it grew in his mind. Despite that, he was able to put it off, at least for one more night. He had who knew how long to contemplate everything, no need to let it sour one more night of passion.
On the 20th of the Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 39, Ashton and Saladin set off from Enbarr towards the peninsula that held Fódlan's Fangs, alongside a full squad of the Knights of Seiros. With them were provisions that would last them for a month or two, three if they rationed efficiently, with their new Sacred Weapons brimming with power strapped to their backs.
Ashton, for one, felt as if he had nothing to worry about. As they traveled from the verdant green hills that surrounded Enbarr to the forested region that surrounded Fódlan's Fangs, he felt eerily calm, as if a wyvern come fall from the sky and he would not bat an eyelash. Saladin had a similar sentiment, if his implacable expression as he rode alongside Ashton was anything to go by.
It took them only around a week to reach Fódlan's Fangs, with the mountaintops, though not as high as those of the Oghma Mountains further to the northeast, were impressive in their own right. According to the maps they had been given, several villages were dotted near the feet of the mountains, though how many of them had been completely razed was unknown. If the people they were after had done serious damage, then Ashton wasn't sure they would be spared from hanging.
Saladin, however, provided a different outlook.
"The Elites have a reputation, Ashton," Saladin said, as thunderstorm raged above them, flashing blue light across their vision even as their shelter protected them. The other knights were doing something similar, although from their distance they wouldn't be able to hear them. "And these people, if they are anything like me, will have had no choice but to resort to banditry."
"You did not become one," Ashton pointed out.
"What do you think they used me for, during their occupation of Fhirdiad?" Saladin snorted, using a whetstone to sharpen his axe, although Ashton doubted the weapon needed it. "I had known almost no other life before I joined Saint Seiros willingly. Had I not found a chance, I could very well be the same people we are hunting down."
Ashton nodded. "I suppose that makes sense. It does not excuse their actions, but we were told to bring them alive, and I intend to do that. Hopefully we are able to convince them."
"I do not think it will be that difficult. Very few people turn to a life of banditry willingly. Nemesis being among those who did, no doubt," Saladin remarked bitterly, brows furrowed.
Another flash of lightning, followed by the dull rumble of thunder went through the air. Ashton winced but otherwise remained still.
"I hope you're right," Ashton mumbled, crossing his arms. "I would not wish to come all this way just to kill people."
"And yet you struck down countless conscripts atop the walls of Enbarr," Saladin pointed out. "Were they different?"
"Just because I did that, does not mean I liked doing it," Ashton muttered, hanging his head. "I do not like to think of it, Saladin. I have not- haven't thought about it a lot, man. I don't want to. If I do then I'l…"
"Say no more. I understand," Saladin grunted. "Forgive me for asking such a question, but my point still stands. I am glad you are willing to give them a chance, however. If Lady Seiros had not given me mine, I shudder to think of all my wasted time."
Ashton snorted. "Thankfully, I think she just has it out for Nemesis and the Elites. Her righteous anger does not extend to their families, which could be blameless."
"Indeed. I hold no love for my father, Ashton, but I imagine some of those families would be distraught at a potential execution of their patriarch or matriarch."
"Then Nemesis should not have," Ashton shook his head. "Well, that is getting into topics I have no business discussing. Why do you think Nemesis left these people behind? Was he in a rush, or was it calculated?"
"Nemesis is a snake, but even he can make mistakes," Saladin mused, the rain nearly drowning out his voice for a moment. "He will return, but it matters not how many he treads upon or abandons to see his goal of conquest through, and the Elites are loyal to him first and foremost. By all means, when the time comes, do not show them mercy. They are undeserving of it."
Ashton grunted. "Yes, I am getting that. It feels as if we are talking in circles."
"Then let us table this discussion for now," Saladin mumbled, reclining. "This storm will blow over, and by then it will be nightfall. We should take this opportunity to rest as much as we can."
Ashton nodded, saying nothing. As he drifted off, his mind was consumed by thoughts of home, and the unborn child he has left behind in Enbarr.
Please, let this not take long…
It took another week before Ashton and Saladin found the location of the bandit hideout. Days spent asking around the rustic villages of Fódlan's Fangs became monotonous before finally, they were granted a lead. Deep within the forests at the foot of the mountains laid a cave, nearly completely covered by overgrowth.
"They left footsteps in the mud," Ashton noted, crouched beside Saladin as they scouted the entrance. If he had not been told that there was an entrance to a cave just beyond the bushes, he would've never have thought to look. "Careless."
"They were not concerned with being found. Perhaps they never thought they would be noticed," Saladin replied. "Wait for nightfall, and when they leave, we ambush them. Let us gather the knights."
Thus began what felt like a century of waiting, filled with nothing but hiding and staying out of sight of the cave entrance. Hours passed before the sun finally went down, with not a hitn of activity from the entrance. After the moon rose high into the sky, and right before Ashton was tempted to catch a few minutes of sleep, he heard a slight rustling.
Thinking it was one of the other knights, Ashton almost disregarded it until he saw movement at the mouth of the cave. Cloaked figures carefully made their way out of the underbrush, many of them brandishing daggers, with a few axes. The ones that really caught his eye, however, were two towards the back. One held a plain steel sword that nonetheless reflected the moonlight, and the other held a bow with a quiver across their back.
Knowing it was time, Ashton whistled. The knights around him ran forward almost instantly, and the men with Saladin soon followed. Ashton unhooked his hammer and brandished it as he ran forward. Within seconds, the entire group was surrounded.
"Let me guess," Ashton began, his voice slightly below a shout. "You thought you could raid caravans, plunder villages, and it would go unnoticed?"
The one with a bow let out a hiss as they nocked an arrow. Ashton readied himself. The other knights did the same, waiting for the first shot to be taken and for all hell to break loose. They were dealing with at least one child of an Elite, after all; anything was possible.
Saladin was living proof of that.
After a few tense seconds, however, they de-nocked their arrow, at the behest of their companion.
"How did you find us?" the one with a sword asked, with a light voice.
"It was not difficult," Saladin said, his axe at the ready if they tried anything. "Between the villagers who pointed us in the right direction, and the footprints in the mud, it would have been embarrassing if we did not find you. Know this, however, we are not here to harm you. Despite the damage you have done, we have been told to bring you to Enbarr alive. I advise you to take this chance."
"Servants of the Goddess!" the one with the bow and arrow snarled. "Witless slaves! How do we know you'll keep your word?"
"We have not attacked you yet, have we?" Ashton replied, his tone quieting. "We know there is a descendant of an Elite among you. Maybe several. You were left behind, were you not?"
"Dastard! I'll have your head!"
Ashton was ready for it. The arrow was loosed, and he moved his head to the side just in time. The head brushed past his pauldron and sailed off into the distance. One of his men made to rush forward, and if Ashton let him, the rest of the knights would follow. Instead, Ashton pressed his hand against the knight's breastplate, stopping him.
"Stay your ground," Ashton ordered. "My words may have touched a raw nerve, so I will allow you your anger, but do not try that again."
Ashton saw Saladin flash a small smile at him before the larger man continued where he left off.
"Come with us willingly, and you will be shown mercy," Saladin intoned. "I am like you. I am the son of Gloucester, and yet here I stand, serving as a knight in defense of the Church of Seiros. The same could be true of you. You need not show fealty to your parents/ They left you here."
"They will be back!" the archer shouted. "We know they will!"
"In a few years, perhaps," Ashton answered.
The archer looked as if they were about to say something, but a hand against their chest from the swordsman stopped them. They sighed and let down their bow.
"You are Saladin, aren't you?" the swordsman asked. "We have heard of you. They called you a traitor, said that you willingly sold your soul to a goddess that cares not for humanity. Why should we trust the words of a traitor?"
"Because we have shiny weapons and you do not," Ashton replied. "Bad choice of words, but you do not have much of a choice, do you? Look at him. He came to use willingly. I was there when he swore fealty to the Empire and to Lady Seiros. Nemesis is a monster, and while I know they are your parents, the Elites are no different. Following in their footsteps will not bring them back here. Do the right thing, I beg you."
The two leaders exchanged glances. Ashton still couldn't make out any distinguishing features, what with their rugged clothes and face coverings.
"We will not be harmed?" the swordsman asked.
"I promise. On my name," Ashton said.
After another moment of silence, they lowered their weapons completely. The swordsman sheathed their sword, while the archer slung their bow around their chest and back.
"Fine, then," the archer spat. "We will-"
"Not bloody likely!"
One of the bandits charged forward, followed by several of his fellows. They were so fast that the knights barely had the chance to hold their shields up.
Luckily for Ashton, he expected it. And judging from Saladin's reaction, he was too. Ashton shot a hand out, grasping one of the bandits by the lapels of his grubby tunic, held him up, before slamming him into the ground. It happened so fast that Ashton barely registered he had done it before he swung his hammer, feeling every muscle in his upper body flex as the head of it crashed into the chest of one of the bandits, practically sending the poor dastard flying.
It was in that moment that Ashton finally realized just how much stronger he had become. The man he had slammed into the ground groaned, rolling around on the ground in agony, while the bandit he had crashed his hammer into wasn't moving at all.
Damnit. Damnit, damnit!
Before long, the other bandits were subdued. Ashton knew he shouldn't feel bad for them. Told himself he shouldn't. But it came all the same. A clawing, cold feeling went up his chest as he took a deep breath. The two leaders, the descendants of the Elites, barely moved an inch, though Ashton could see they had grown paler.
"I was going to take them in, too," Ashton mumbled, "but bandits make for bad companions, huh?"
"…Indeed," the swordsman answered. "I do not hold their fates against you, so long as you keep your word."
"However unlikely it is," the archer grumbled.
Ashton looked at the remaining bandits being bound and sighed. "We will keep our word for you. You only attacked once, and not since. I would like to ask for your names. If all goes well, we will be getting to know each other quite a bit before this is all over."
The two exchanged another glance, before the archer let out a growl and forcefully pushed down their face covering, revealing a distinctly masculine, if young, pale face.
"I'm Nothic, son of Lamine," he said, before lightly shoving the swordsman. "And this is-"
"I am Jasmin, daughter of Fraldarius," the swordswoman interrupted, pushing Nothic back. "And I pray that you are right. I have had enough of squatting within a cave."
With their mission completeled with minimal casualties, Ashton and Saladin began their trek back to Enbarr with the two Elite descendants behind them, the knights guarding them at all times. Despite the journey to Fódlan's Fangs being relatively uneventful, the journey back was fraught with summer storms, not unlike the one they felt when they finally arrived at the Fangs. Nonetheless, beyond a few hiccups, they were within sight of Enbarr within a month.
In that time, Nothic and Jasmin were completely silent, hardly speaking a word beyond yes or no. Most of their time was spent with each other, under guard of the knights. Ashton intended to keep his word for as long as possible, but once they were within the city, their fates would be out of his and Saladin's hands.
Of course, Ashton hoped they would be spared. Saladin was spared and incorporated into the Knights of Seiros, but then again, he did so willingly. Ashton knew that he would do everything within his power to make sure they joined alongside him, and the chances, it seemed, were good, so long as the two were willing.
Ashton had hope that Jasmin would be, but Nothic was another story. The boy was caustic to a fault. If he wasn't answering yes or no questions, he was uttering jabs towards Ashton or Saladin. The fates of their former compatriots either weighed heavily on him, or he was simply bitter from his abandonment, both sentiments that Ashton could understand.
"Lady Seiros will know we are arriving. She will likely meet us within the plaza," Ashton said, the two former bandits behind him as Saladin trailed from behind. "Please, choose your words carefully. Your lives hinge on her decision."
"And what will you do, if we are rejected?" Jasmin asked, running a hand through her short black hair.
"Do not focus on such things," Ashton replied, his lips thinning. "I believe your chances are good, but do not run your mouths either way."
"I-!" Nothic began, before a quick jab from Jasmin silenced him. "Dastards…"
When the group was just outside the massive gates, a welcoming party came to greet them, headed by an old friend in black platemail.
"Well, would you look at what the dog dragged in!" Ella laughed, wrapping an arm around Ashton's neck and giving him a sideways hug. "I almost thought I'd never see you again!"
"I was around for months after the battle, Ella," Ashton mumbled. "You could have spoken to me at any point before we left."
"Ah, but then we wouldn't have these chances for big, grand reunions!" Ella replied boisterously, tapping Ashton's shoulder before taking a step back and looking behind him. "And I guess these were the guys you two were sent to capture, huh?"
"Most of them," Ashton grunted, turning around to cross his arms. "They were reasonable. Their group of cutthroats were not."
"Well, yeah, they were bandits. Of course they didn't wanna be taken in by knights. Not even you shining dastards," Ella said, approaching the two former bandits. "They look so young, too. What were the Elites thinking, living a bunch of kids here like this?"
Nothic growled while Jasmin said nothing.
"And they're even less talkative than Saladin," Ella remarked. "Ah, nevermind. I notified the Saints that you were arriving when we saw you approach the gates. They'll probably be setting up their courtroom now."
"Will the Emperor be there?" Ashton mused, following Ella as she clapped her hands and the gates to Enbarr slowly opened. "And make sure not to antagonize them, alright? I am trying to ensure they join our side. Young as they may be, they are skilled all the same."
"Ashton, we're both in our mid-twenties," Ella deadpanned, "we are the last to be calling them 'young'. I guess I should take that to heart, though, considering I started that. And yeah, Emperor Wilhelm will be in attendance, but I doubt he'll be saying much. I'm guessing Lady Seiros has made it clear this is mostly a church matter. Anyway, less talking and more going. I hope the Saints are in a good mood."
Sometimes, it was difficult for Ashton to see much a difference between the government of the Empire and the Church of Seiros. Even if he was a part of it, something in him felt deeply uncomfortable at the notion.
That is what I get for being raised in the U.S.
Within an hour, Ashton found himself and his group inside the grand hall, with the door just in front of them leading into the council room. For once, he wasn't the object that would be judged; that role fell to the two behind him. Both of them were quiet, with Jasmin's short black hair doing nothing to hide the fear evident on her face, and Nothic's scraggly blonde mane only serving to somehow make him more petulant.
Please, goddess, bringer of life to these lands, do not let me be the harbinger of these childrens' deaths.
"Very well," Ashton grunted, turning to Saladin. "Are you ready?"
"I was about to ask you the same question," Saladin murmured. "Your hand is shaking.
Ashton scoffed. "I will be fine after this is over."
"Whatever happens in there, know that you have done your duty, and I have done mine," Saladin said.
Ashton closed his eyes briefly. "The rest is in the hands of the goddess."
"Indeed," Saladin replied. "Let us move."
Saladin pushed the doors open. The council chamber was largely empty, with only the podiums for the Saints and the Emperor being filled, and even then, half of the podiums were empty, with only Seiros, Cethleann, and Cichol being there.
A private affair it is.
Ashton slowly walked forward with the two former bandits behind him, Saladin at his flank before he reached the center of the room.
"My Saints, my Emperor," Ashton began, making sure to project his voice. "I have fulfilled the task laid before me. I bring before you two descendants of the Elites."
"And their compatriots?" Seiros asked, standing tall at her podium. "The reports indicated that there were dozens."
"They were not nearly as reasonable," Saladin spoke up. "They are either jailed or dead. They came with us willingly."
"Very well," Wilhelm said, holding his hand up and beckoning the two forward. "Step forward, young ones. I would have you speak for yourselves."
The duo looked between themselves one more time before stepping forward as one. Ashton bowed and backed away, letting them take the stage.
"You stand here accused of banditry, armed robbery, and of several other charges that need not be repeated given these circumstances," Wilhelm intoned, leaning forward against his podium. The stoic Emperor of Adrestia barely moved a muscle when he spoke.
"Out of desperation," Jasmin replied.
"We were left behind, damnit, I'll admit it!" Nothic burst out, baring his teeth and growling like an angry dog. "Our mothers, they left us! I don't even know why; one moment, we were told to hunt, and when we returned, the ships were gone! We were abandoned!"
"That's enough," Cichol spoke up, crossing his arms as he looked down on the duo. "We suspected as much, and that is why you are being granted leniency. Insofar as we are willing to grant to former bandits. You will not be executed, as we have a different proposal."
"The man who stands beside you was once the same as you; a descendant of the Elites, sworn in service to Nemesis," Seiros began, "and yet, Saladin has seen the light of the goddess, and now serves us as a trusted comrade. The same can be extended to you, should you choose. The goddess cares not for one's bloodline, or the sins of their forefathers. She cares only for those who devote their life to her, and serve her in mind and body."
"And should we refuse?" Jasmin asked boldly, causing Ashton to wince.
Looking up, he saw the expression that flashed across Seiros' face, if only briefly. It had become rarer and rarer since they had entered their relationship, but it still showed itself every so often. Her brows furrowed, her eyes narrowed, and her lips curled back ever so slightly. As before, it was gone so quickly Ashton could barely tell it was there.
"Then you will be sent from this place. Exiled. You will not be hunted, but you shall not receive aid from us, and should news of further banditry involving you surface, then you shall be shown no mercy," Seiros replied, her voice lowering.
Please, take this offer.
The duo was silent for a few moments, with the echoes of someone tapping a finger against something being the only sound within the council chamber. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of silence, one of them spoke.
"I accept," the swordswoman stated.
The archer continued to play the quiet game, and all eyes were on him. Nothic barely gave any indication that he registered their stares at all. Ashton waited for an acidic reply, hoping above all else that the poor boy would not doom himself.
"Me too," he finally said, and Ashton let out a breath he hadn't know he'd been holding in. "Better than any other choice, I guess. Even if I never really had one in the first place."
Thank the goddess.
Different aspects of Ashton's newfound power only began to manifest months after he had received it.
For instance, he practically devoured everything he could find. It wasn't a conscious hunger, as whenever no food was available, he felt completely content. However, whenever he saw a string of dried beef, or anything else for that matter, he would progressively feel hungrier and hungrier until he finally ate it. It wasn't the same as feeling hungry whenever he saw a food he liked, either. It was an insidious, gnawing feeling that clawed away at his stomach.
Ashton was just glad it hadn't made itself known until after he returned from the Fangs. And in time, the feeling became much more manageable. Even then, sometimes, it resurfaced.
Luckily for him, he had plenty of things to keep himself busy, such as training the two new recruits.
"Your guard is down!" Ashton shouted, using the side of his wooden maul to knock out Jasmin's ankle and sending the black-haired girl to the ground in a heap, sputtering and coughing before she rolled onto her back and looked up.
"I have much to learn," she breathed out. "To be so easily beaten by you."
Ashton shrugged. "You have good natural instincts. Better than me. But it's unrefined. Now, I am not refined either; one does not need much when they swing around a hammer all day or use healing magic. You are a swordswoman, though, and that requires a certain level of grace. I am not some caravan guard, barely mustering the will to defend his employer. And as you well know, Nemesis will likely not spare expense on his next army."
The sparring area, filled with sand as it was, felt as if it was broiling under the Summer sun. Still, they trained. They wouldn't always be able to fight in good weather conditions, after all.
"You are right. I know that all too well," Jasmin replied, taking Ashton's hand as he hoisted her up. "That siege, that battle, it was simply a test, yes? He wished to probe Enbarr's defenses. He likely knew going in that he would not win that battle. But with it, he was able to force that dragon, that Child of the Goddess, to reveal herself to him."
Ashton closed his eyes. "We have surmised as much, yes," he replied, "and believe me, I am not expecting the next battle to be any less bloody, no matter where he arrives. Know this, however, that you will likely play a key role in the future. You are freed of his influence. You no longer need to serve him."
"We trade one master for another," Jasmin muttered, throwing her sword to the ground. "No matter how benevolent, a master is a master. Nothic and I knew we would never truly be free. I only hope that this goddess of yours is true to her word, as you were."
Despite Jasmin' words having nothing to do with it, Ashton couldn't help but think of what Seiros said to him the day before he left to capture Nothic and Jasmin. Something about a truth, however distant. She had said nothing upon his return, and they had gone on as they always had, though he could see Seiros' burgeoning belly, carefully hidden as well as could be with liberal use of baggy robes.
I will wait a bit longer. The birth of our… child, our child is not far away.
Ashton said nothing as he readied himself, with Jasmin picking up her sword. It would be another long day of training the two Elite descendants, but it would be worth it in the long run.
Ashton and Seiros' son was born on the 19th of Wyvern Moon, Imperial Year 39.
It was not a day given much fanfare, despite the gravity of what was happening. Only a select few trusted priestesses were allowed within the room, with Ashton himself barred from entry. Not because being in the room would be taboo, but because he was deemed too emotional to be either of any help or to watch without attempting to help, which would only get in the way of the priestesses' duties.
Ashton had no idea how it worked. He knew nothing of Nabatean physiology, or really anything to do with birthing. He didn't even know how he was able to get a different species pregnant in the first place.
Of course, with Cethleann as a precedent, he knew it was possible.
Oddly enough, none of the Saints were nearby, either too busy or away. Not that Ashton expected Macuil to suddenly turn over a new leaf and join them with merriment. Still, it meant that he was alone, waiting to allowed in.
And when he finally was, his heart skipped a beat staring down at her, clutching the child to her chest.
Despite his worries, his doubts, all of them disappeared as Ashton beheld Seiros with their child. He could see the pointed ears of a Nabatean, along with a faint dark green fuzz on their head. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
"Come here, my dear Ashton," Seiros whispered, holding out her hand as the other held the baby. "I want you to look, to see…"
Ashton knelt down at her side, taking her hand in his. It took everything in him not to cry, looking at their child. His child. Years ago, he had not a single hope of being in the situation he was in.
And Ashton couldn't be happier.
"I never dared assume I would have this," Seiros breathed out. "Never believed that it was even possible. Perhaps this… perhaps this is my chance, to start over. To let go. He is my son, our son. I want to name him. Do you particularly mind?"
"I-" Ashton began, swallowing the stone slowly growing in his throat. "I have never been proficient in names. Whatever you decide to name him, I will love it, I am sure."
Seiros hummed, grasping Ashton's hand tenderly and stroking the top of it with her thumb. She closed her eyes for a moment before finally speaking.
"Arawn," Seiros murmured. "His name shall be Arawn. A strong name, like both of his parents, hmm?"
Ashton chuckled. "I never thought of my name as 'strong' but if you think so…"
"He is sleeping now," Seiros said, taking a deep breath. "Would you like to hold him, briefly?"
Ashton froze for a few moments, unsure how to react, before nodding silently and holding his hands out. Gently, Seiros sat up, and gave the baby to Ashton. He stood up, then, holding his son in his arms for the first time, and the tears came unbidden.
This is where I belong, Ashton thought, looking down at his son. I will be with you every step of the way. I promise.
The dramatic irony in this fic is palpable, isn't it? Longest chapter in a long while, and hopefully it'll stay that way. I like longer chapters lol.
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