Chapter 11: Opening Act (Finale)
The mood within camp was an odd one for the Devils of Satan Lucifer's forces as they gathered equipment, tallied their dead and regrouped after the hard fought siege they'd somehow ended up in when it had been anticipated they would all be engaging in a quick and brutal blitz, not some kind of protracted and highly bloody melee.
On one hand they had achieved their objective, rather spectacularly at that. Not only was King Charlemagne dead but Satan Beelzebub's spawn Shalba Beelzebub had perished in the conflict alongside him, an embarrassment for the Satan and major boon for Lucifer who was going to take no small delight in pointing out his proxies success and rival's failure.
...Yep everyone present was keenly aware that - despite their undeniable success - they had nonetheless been played and manipulated by someone who had apparently come equipped with one very complex plan and subsequently carried it out flawlessly.
The real kicker? Aforementioned individual hadn't even stuck around to take all the credit or gloat over their victory, vanishing without a trace.
"And there's been no word from Beelzebub's faction? No statement or proclamation of their success?"
Zeoticus' bewildered question was met with equal bemusement by Castelan Phenex, the blonde-haired man meeting his old friend's gaze with a hapless shrug, stating, "If that man had intended to return to Beelzebub and proclaim his victory it would have made sense for him to do so as quickly as possible, to erase all doubt of who carried out the deed. And yet here we are, several hours after the death of Charlemagne with all sides in the Underworld completely silent, awaiting some kind of news or verdict from those involved in the battle itself."
The man sighed, allowing himself a moment of exhausted frustration as they were currently alone, Zeoticus reclined in his chair and currently allowing the ever potent magic of Phoenix Tears to help do away with the rather corrosive and nasty stab wound in his gut courtesy of a swift-handed Angel.
"And then there is the matter of the man who's name we didn't even think to procure and - unless I'm sorely mistaken - played all three sides like strings on a finely tuned instrument."
"In all fairness, we weren't entirely at fault for imagining that the random Human pretending he held all the answers would be dead by the end of the day, no matter his knowledge. I suppose this is what some would call a teachable moment."
"I thought I was done with those two centuries ago."
Resigned snorts left the pair, knowing full well that life never stopped being full of painful instruction.
"Milords, your son and lady Sitri wish to have an audience, they have news of further details regarding the battle's conclusion."
Nodding in acceptance of the guard's request the duo were admitted a scant second later, both looking ragged and tired but nonetheless alive, Zeoticus inwardly cursing battlefield discipline as in any other situation he would have gathered his pride and joy up in a bone-crushing hug, embarrassment be damned.
...He could do that later.
"It's reassuring to see you both alive and well after your first true campaign. In that it spiralled out of control rather quickly."
Both Devils not even into their first half-century offered tired smiles, Sirzechs responding, "I suppose I can see why you were so strict in your training, father...even then I cannot exactly claim to have been prepared for this."
Wishing nothing more than to simply sit down with the pair and ask after their well being he instead kept his expression stern and dutiful, asking, "You had information regarding the conclusion of this campaign?"
Serafall nodded, stating, "During the battle Sirzechs and I were separated and ended up in a fast-paced duel with several Angels. Things admittedly weren't looking good until we received unexpected help from a Scale Mauler appearing, well...out of midair."
Sirzechs and Castelan raised their eyebrows, Sirzechs elaborating with, "Afterwards we quickly retreated since they were busy with the creature, being met not only a minute later by the Human himself."
Both older Devils shared a quick glance, Zeoticus clarifying, "He was responsible for summoning the creature?"
"While he didn't admit to doing so directly I fail to see what else may have occurred. Beyond that all he said was that he'd killed Charlemagne and that he would be seeing us in the future. And not in an ominous way, if anything I would say he took special care to ensure our survival."
Zeoticus and Castela frowned at that, even if the red-haired Devil was immensely thankful towards the act.
"Did he say or do anything afterwards?"
"No, father. He disappeared shortly afterwards and gave no explanation as to why we encountered so many of Heaven's forces instead of the smaller force like we were lead to believe."
The group stared at the already wilting lily placed upon a nearby table, a means of contact between the man and them that had been meant to signal their charge towards what was supposed to be an already faltering force of Shalba Beelzebub and a small but elite group of Angels that they would proceed to crush.
Half of those conditions had been perfectly true.
And with the benefit of hindsight it was slowly starting to become a plausible theory that it truly had been none other than the famed Merlin traveling at his side and not some feminized knock-off masquerading as the venerable magician.
Zeoticus sighed, rubbing his head as he tried to figure out the man's motives.
"Correct me if I'm wrong...but this Human - if that is indeed what he is, I'm beginning to have my doubts - first began this plot by eliminating Gastofield's garrison and freeing the captives within. Then he manages to swindle Beelzebub into affording him passage to this theater of battle where, to my admitted chagrin, he manipulates all involved parties into a brutal battle that leads to a great many deaths on all sides and the demise of our initial target. And at the culmination of it all he assumedly saves you two and then vanishes off the face of the map, no sightings to be reported in."
Serafall frowned, hesitantly asking, "He has yet to claim credit for the death of Charlemagne?"
Castelan released a brief huff of air, grunting, "Nothing. The entire Underworld is eagerly awaiting a response for the results of this battle just as much as they were before it concluded. No claims have been made and at this point I don't think they will until we take the initiative. Heaven certainly won't be in any hurry to admit that their conquering king fell in battle, that much is certain."
Zeoticus let his head drop into his hands, breathing out a sigh of frustration as he grumbled, "As much as I would like to assume this Human merely did these things out of fancy or petulant hatred against our kind...his actions in saving you do away with that assumption. And I hardly believe he will have returned to Beelzebub's faction, not when he was so perfectly understanding of the dangers of doing so."
Sirzechs tentatively posed, "Did he perhaps wish to save what he viewed as innocent lives? First the intervention in Gastofield - where I doubt the prisoners were being treated with any modicum of respect - and then this, putting an end to Charlemagne and the massacre that was purportedly going to occur against the local Saxons. We were merely distractions to aid in carrying out that goal, if that is indeed what he aimed for."
Zeoticus and Castelan stared at Sirzechs who began to uneasily shift under their unblinking gazes, Serafall quickly adding, "And while his rescue of us might seem to run counter to that conclusion he did seem to recognize or be familiar with our names and faces...was he perhaps a contracted Human or something similar priorly?"
Zeoticus and Castelan shook their heads, the redhead replying, "While I cannot speak for the Sitri both my family and the Phenex have never before encountered this man."
This time the mood was more befuddled than it was anything else.
"Normally I would label your claims as outlandish, my son...and yet everything else this man has done thus far seems to lack a common thread of logic so who am I to say?"
Regaining his air of authority Zeoticus announced, "Then here is what we shall do. While he may have manipulated and used us to his own ends he nonetheless returned to save your lives and has almost certainly allowed us to claim the death of King Charlemagne as our own doing. He seemed quite aware of the prestige of carrying out such an act and that is no small boon. If he does indeed show his face among our own in the future we shall welcome him as one would a prospective business partner with a good reputation and even greater notoriety."
His face hardened.
"Warmly, but extremely warily. We have already been hoodwinked once and I do not intend to have such a thing occur again."
The trio nodded in agreement, Gremory standing tall as the Phoenix Tears concluded their work, stating, "Come! We must hasten to spread the news of our success and the death of Charlemagne to Satan Lucifer and receive our rewards! And, perhaps most importantly…"
He smiled widely, Castelan rolling his eyes while Sirzechs and Serafall seemed more confused than anything else.
"I must greet my wife most lovingly! After all, it has been many months since we have last seen each other~!"
There was no shortage of groans at the overly sappy words.
Her life had been short, action-packed, full of vigor and adventure...and ultimately tragic. But what else could be expected, when one's existence was essentially preordained to be that of a martyr, a sacrifice for a cruel god that held naught in its heart but ill wishes for all sentient life?
But that had been the cosmic hand doled out to her and all the wishing and wondering in the world wouldn't change what had already happened.
Her early years had been...limited. By design, naturally, but that didn't exactly make it any more enjoyable or nostalgic to look back on. Being deliberately brought up on dogma, rhetoric and what was essentially a healthy dose of brainwashing left the girl friendless, alone and intensely apathetic to the cause. After all, what else was there for her to latch onto? Her mother was either dead, silenced or had fled and her only points of contact were the very people that saw her as a mere conduit in the coincidental shape of a Human.
...All things considered, Robin liked to think she had turned out alright. Or maybe that was simply because all the negativity and insanity that had been the byproduct of a maddened god attempting to pour its essence into her had allowed for a certain sense of detachment to form.
After all, her future self had desperately tried to merge their distinct personalities together in a rather foolish attempt to gain control when their lives had been quite the different affairs.
But the actions of her Grima-possesed self hadn't manifested until much later, when her life had already been set in stone and decided for her. A sacrifice and conduit for a being so much greater than herself that it seemed almost laughable that a tiny and lonely little girl could contain the spirit and persona of a god.
How long had she been alone, isolated and ostracized in some long-forgotten part of Plegia? How many times had she tried to find anyone that would show her anything beyond a sort of distant amicability or professional bit of courtesy? For someone to provide validation to her continued existence?
She had been lucky every now and again, meeting people like Henry or Tharja, fellow Plegians who were willing to brave the scrutiny and ever-present distaste of Robin's 'protectors' to provide the friendship and comradery she had so desperately craved. But they had their own lives to attend to, responsibilities and contracts that couldn't be ignored merely to entertain and save her from the ever-present loneliness that seemed to have become a permanent fixture of her life.
More to the point, she was an isolated and mascot figure of the Grimleal who's value was more in her continued existence than it was her happiness. With the benefit of hindsight it was clear Tharja and Henry's visiting hours had been as quietly dissuaded or diverted as much as possible without being overt about things. No doubt Validar's doing, her doting, loving and utterly sociopathic bastard of a father practically grooming her from the word go to be an obedient and quiet little gem to later be traded for something of greater value.
...She hadn't been able to take it any more. One day, in a fit of bravery, frustration and desperation she had hatched a scheme to escape the Grimleal - and by extension Plegia's - oppressive hold over her life, implementing and carrying it out to great success.
The first hints of her tactical brilliance on display, she supposed.
Freedom had come at a high cost, however. Her escape had been harrowing, close cut and - in a truly unfortunate stroke of bad luck and timing - completely successful until the arrival of her future self into the world conceded with a hostile takeover of her mind, the mental trauma and struggle erasing or sealing a great many of her memories in a bid to retain her sense of self, only ingrained skills and muscle memory remaining alongside a few core recollections.
But that had turned out for the best, because the three people that had come across her in that highly vulnerable and weakened state were none other than the ones who would grant her freedom and companionship like nothing she could have ever imagined.
Chrom, Frederick and Lissa. The trio that would introduce her to the Shepherds and her future family in every possible meaning of the word, save blood relations.
The years afterwards had been...well, everything she could have wanted out of life. Warm, exciting, difficult, tragic, adventurous, dangerous and full of love. She had embarked on quest after quest with her companions, aiding Chrom in battle after battle as they discovered the truth of the world, sought to put an end to Grima's ultimate scheme and seen her friends and family fall in love.
She'd come to treasure Ylisse, the Shepherds, the friends and allies they made along the way and everything about the world she had found herself thriving in.
...It had made her ultimate sacrifice all the more bitter.
The kind of past she'd lead wasn't the one you could just put off or ignore forever, it caught up with you eventually. And at the height of their furious and desperate battle for survival against her future self made manifest as the Fell Dragon she'd come to an ugly truth.
Only a god could truly end a god...and she carried enough of Grima's own divine essence to put an end to things. All she had to do was give up the very existence she'd fought and bled so much for.
Of course, being what Chrom had occasionally described as an extraordinarily selfless person - almost to a fault - she'd done exactly that, driving her blade deep into her alternate self's twisted heart and ensuring that they would both cease to exist, so intertwined were their existences.
She'd resignedly and fatalistically accepted her death, consigned herself to the all consuming black that was a true end...and she'd been offered a choice. A choice so unexpected and out of absolutely nowhere that she'd honestly suspected it of being a Grimleal trick.
Accept an offer of traveling to a distant world, of aiding the one who would become her beloved in whatever task or quest he embarked upon with all of the strength she possessed...and she would be granted her dearest wishes, her most fond desire.
To have a family, to be loved.
…
Really, was there any doubt of her accepting the offered deal?
"Whew, there we go. Gotta say, I like being able to grow a beard again. Nothing wrong with a smooth face but it felt a little lonely without the flavor saver, you know?"
"Hmm...would you oppose my desire to weave a few flowers into it, Harris? I think a little color would help spruce up your image~!"
Giving Merlin a dry look the male tried and failed to hide his amused smile, commenting, "We'll revisit the topic later, right now I'm just going to luxuriate in having my good old pure goatee back in place."
Stroking the patch of dark and glossy facial hair Harris grinned in contentment, looking down at his body with an appraising eye. While not as dramatic a shift as his prepubescent into young adulthood had been he had nonetheless gained a few inches, appearing to now be in his mid 20's.
The most noticeable change, however, was in the level of strength he now felt coursing through his body, an odd warmth and tingling in his muscles and soul that felt like it was ready to act on his command at the slightest drop of a hat.
"Well, Merlin? Feel more like your old self yet?"
Squirming in obvious pleasure the Magus of Flowers commented, "While there is still some work and advancement that needs to be done...I daresay we are well on the path of attaining my old level of strength. Currently we are perhaps the equivalent of the ones who sport eight wings in this world?"
"I'll take your word for it. Well, Charles? Like what you see?"
The Vampire gaped at the man, ruby eyes wide as he spluttered, "H-how, what did...that doesn't make any sense!"
"Oh? What part?"
Indignantly shouting out a response of, "The part where the two of you gained a massive amount of energy out of nowhere, that's what!" as he fruitlessly gesticulated with his hand.
Harris merely chuckled, cheekily commenting, "Well that's just the tip of the iceberg, then. Brace yourself, we're about to welcome our newest traveling companion."
"...What?"
Before the Vampire could inquire further there was an odd rustling noise, as if the air itself was shaking away a particularly irksome itch-
-and with surprisingly little fanfare there was a minor flare of light that quickly coalesced into the figure of a woman of moderate height, Charles blinking as he took in her appearance.
An angular face that possessed sharply defined features but was softened by a warm and attentive expression, raptor-like and wise eyes of gold examining them as silver-gray hair fell down her shoulders in long strands done up into two braids.
Her attire was voluminous but cared for, with a long coat of durable brown inlaid with purple and gold while tan shirt and pants made it hard to discern the shape of her body...but there were two features that stood out to the Vampire in particular.
Dark horns of midnight sprouted from her skull and tapered off into points while a scaled tail lightly waved from beneath her cloak, features that could only belong to a Dragon.
"You called for me, Harris? If so, then I've answered as requested."
A playful smile adorned the stunning woman's lips.
"So what's first on our agenda, then-OOF?!"
Merlin had all but skipped forward, dragging the other woman into a brutal hug as she cooed, "Ooh, you are just so adorable in that refined librarian kind of way~! I must say, master has quite the refined palette in partners, if you are anything to judge by…"
"Merlin, stop attempting to break Robin's spine with love, okay?"
The Magus pouted, acquiescing with a pout as Robin was allowed to breath, wheezing and panting for air as she gave Merlin a reproachful glare.
"Was that really the best way to welcome me into this reality?"
"Well how about this, then?"
Before either could react Harris strode forward, gently cupping the newly manifested woman's chin and tilting her head upwards, bending low and bringing her into a soft but heated kiss, Robin all but sighing in bliss as she melted into the embrace, the pair parting after an affectionate few seconds.
"That...was a much more enjoyable welcome than a bruised ribcage. No offense meant, Merlin."
"Some taken."
Both females exchanged amused grins, Harris clapping his hands together while announcing, "Now then! Anyone feel up to a little field trip towards Japan? We should probably check in and see how Akito's doing, any alternative suggestions?"
Predictably neither Robin nor Merlin had any complaints, the trio turning towards Charles and finding him struck dumb by the rapid series of events, mouth open as he stared gormlessly at Robin.
"Hmm, I think you broke the poor boy, master~!"
"Eh, he'll snap back to reality in a little bit. Now then!"
He grinned pointing towards the rising sun.
"Japan it is."