I've finally had the chance to play FE 7, and it's awesome! Erk, Lyn, Rath, and, surprisingly, Dorcas have done a great job in their duties. Heath, Lowen, Rebecca, and Barte pale by comparison. Heck, Barte missed so often that I kicked him out in favor of Dorcas. Heath still does his duty, though. He helped kill Kenneth. Though Pent still kicks Erk's butt, Erk is by no means a weakling. Eliwood, however, in an insult to the other two Lords. Hector is awesome and Lyn is godly. Ok, on with the fic!
Chapter 15: Swords, Spells, and Claws
A burly man, wide as a boulder, wore a suit of thick red armor. He had short, black hair and deep blue eyes. He carried a giant blade that he stroked tenderly as he observed the vast formation of Begnion troops before him. The man smirked slightly and stabbed the sword into the soil.
His name was Saigo, General of the Begnion Imperial Guard, and Valtome asked him to support the Senator in this endeavor.
Fort Kalak, one of Gallia's largest and most critical military strongholds, had just fallen to the Gallian Royal Guards. Master Soren, Chief Tactician of the Greil Mercenaries, succeeded in outwitting Tonerk's Gallian rebels and their Begnion allies, but now they were going to retake that fort. It was their duty, and they could not afford to fail.
Saigo was a hardened war veteran. In the many engagements with Daein, Saigo took down whole battalions of enemy troops. He would be more than a match for a warrior like Boyd or Gatrie, but he thought he was the second greatest warrior alive. The first being Zelgius, of course.
Saigo turned to his men. "Senator Valtome expects us to crush the enemy, no matter how strong they might be. Men, we are going to win this battle! You've seen that Dame, General Titania, and her pups. You've seen General Ike, that boy whose luck has taken him this far. Together they lead these fools forward, and they've done a rather good job for idiots, but the idiocy ends now. They shall be slain and we shall be victorious."
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He sat there, practicing his sword thrusts, trying to figure out the one stroke that would bring down an opponent quickly without wasting too much energy. As his blade twirled about, another suddenly flew towards his head. Zihark quickly blocked this blow, and found that it was Mia who was testing him.
Mia smirked. It seemed that Zihark's skill might have waned a bit. After all, unlike her, Zihark was asked by Soren to stay behind at base. He hadn't the chance to go and put his skills to practice for a while.
Mia was getting bored. She wanted to spar so badly. Seeing that Zihark seemed to have nothing to do, she yelled. "Zihark, if you consider yourself a man, then you've gotta train with me!"
Zihark sighed. The girl never learned how to sit down and rest for a bit, and because of that she could be so demanding and, well, irritating also. "Very well, Mia. Lead the way..."
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He heard swords clashing, and the excited squeals of a girl and the terrified shouts of a man. Gatrie sighed. It had to be Mia, and her opponent was probably Zihark, since no man who wielded a sword would have enough inner tranquility to train with Mia besides Zihark.
Gatrie polished his lance. The blade had a reddish tint to it, which wasn't surprising since he had to engage several Begnion troops and laguz alone as part of a diversionary tactic. Of all the Greil Mercenaries, Gatrie was the one who could take the most hits. After all, his armor wasn't made for show.
He sighed slightly. He was a lover, not a fighter. Instead of being here, on the battlefield, he'd rather be flirting with Marcia, Astrid, or even Tanith... Preferably at the same time.
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Rhys shivered as he watched Mia and Zihark duel. He winced at every time either swordsmaster took a hit. It took all of Rhys's willpower to stop himself from running forward and yelling: "Stop fighting, you two! We're all family here!" Even though he personally killed his own share of foes, Rhys still hated the sight of blood and couldn't stand seeing people dying. He'd close his eyes as his foes fell because of this.
Shinon watched his colleague's duel with amusement. That crazed Mia would never stop pestering people into dueling with her, and Zihark had no backbone, so he couldn't refuse. These people seemed strong, but Shinon knew better. Every person was pathetic in one way or another. Every person has their weakness, and when that weakness is struck, they can easily crumble.
Rhys turned to Shinon. "How can you be so calm?" He managed, twitching in fear.
Shinon smirked. Speaking of no backbones, no matter how pathetic Zihark might be, Rhys would be far worse. Why the heck was he part of this mercenary group anyway? Rhys was so soft, so naive, so tender. He seemed so out of place when people like Boyd or Gatrie would march beside him. Shinon couldn't understand some of these people. Why would some chipper person like Mia be willing to march for hours on end as part of an army? Why would Rhys, who feared the sight of blood, be willing to stay with the Mercenaries even when they became part of the larger Crimean and Gallian armies? They seemed so idiotic...
And that whelp Soren. What made him so great to have Lucia fawn over him and everyone stand by him? It made no sense. Soren was rather irritable, insincere, and, above all else, bossy as hell. He had this superiority complex going that made it impossible for anyone else to have an opinion, besides his best friend Ike, his "precious" Lucia, the great General Titania, the Sub-humans Ranulf, Lethe, and Muarim, and that old pest Lord Bastian. Everyone else had to follow his instructions unless they had something truly valid to say, as if Soren would know what was "valid" and what wasn't!
Shinon shook his head. The more he thought about it, the more frustrated he got. Maybe it was a good idea not to think about it after all. Their group stupidity would never improve, for Shinon wasn't in charge...
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The blue-armored warrior lugged towards the sound of clashing swords. He found his good friend, the red-haired sniper Shinon, standing and watching this entertaining scene. Mia was actually beating Zihark in their duel, which was rather surprising since Zihark was an accomplished swordsman. Shinon never thought that a woman could beat a man in the art of fighting, but it seemed that Mia was just so powerful.
Gatrie blushed. Mia was just so attractive. He could swear to the Goddess that she was so beautiful compared to the shy Nephenee. Mia was so powerful and feisty, and he liked that in a girl. The more he thought about Mia, the more he imagined a day where he could freely flirt with Mia, Marcia, Tanith, and (to his own surprise) the shy Astrid without having to worry about the stress of battle.
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She sat there, her blue hair waving along with the calm breeze that began to flow through the fort. Lucia wondered if her brother Geoffrey was doing well. On her request, messages via Pegasus came from the Crimean strategy room to her very position in Gallia. Apparently, the Crimean Sages appointed to take her and Bastian's place learned that Daein, under the control of Ashnard's son Pelleas, began to sway more towards the wills of the Begnion senators. One of these makeshift advisors hinted in his letter that Lord Izuka, the man responsible for the Feral program, could be behind this political move on Daein's part. Crimea was friendly with the Apostle and her retainers, but the Senate was almost completely independent of the Apostle, so Lucia had no idea what their intentions were.
And these Begnion troops who were reinforcing the Gallian rebels were not helping. The Apostle would never attack the Gallian monarchy or Crimea or Phoenicis, so it had to be the work of the Senate: Begnion troops would not move on their own accord. Sweat poured down Lucia's back at the thought that Geoffrey might have to engage Daein forces at Delbray, not unlike what they had to go through in the last war. Like Ike and Mist, Geoffrey was Lucia's playmate and friend for a long time. Elincia was her sister and, like Soren and Ike, her closest friend. Bastian was also a close friend, though he became progressively annoying when Lucia hit puberty and grew into a woman. But, in Lucia's eyes, her brother was very close to her... The two of them shared much more than blood. Of course, romantic love was not one of those things, but they did share a very strong love enhanced through years of looking out for each other. As siblings, no one could hope to harm one without the other getting in the way.
Lucia winced at the thought that Geoffrey would be in danger. She was his older sister, though only older by less than a year. It was her duty to watch over him because she had the experience of age. It was the unspoken rule of older siblings, yet now he was a man who was much stronger than her. Lucia sighed at the fact that she wouldn't be there for her nation, her sister Elincia, or her blood brother if Daein were to strike Crimea now.
But she shook her head. This was not the time to think about such matters. They were at war. She'd been distracted enough, even to the point where her distractions were affecting Soren. She had to remain collected and able to provide advice when her friends needed it. She might not be there for Geoffrey, but she had to be there for Soren, and that latter duty was as critical as the former.
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Lyre purred as she slowly awoke... And found herself in Muarim's tent. The cat blushed. "Was I drinking again? I don't remember anything..." She shuddered a little, trying to force herself awake, and looked around. The sheets felt so warm and Muarim was nowhere to be seen. Lyre yawned. Sleeping in didn't seem like a possibility, since they had to be on their guard at all times. Lethe's sister began to rise out of bed when she realized that she was undressed. Lyre blushed furiously and redressed wondering what she could have done. Muarim couldn't have done that, could he?
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Lethe sniffed the air around her as she strolled about. She suddenly tensed and turned towards Muarim's tent. The cat could distinctly sense her sister's scent, and growled. It wasn't that she disapproved of Muarim, per say. In fact, he was like a brother to her. What Lethe disapproved of this relationship was that it was done in secret, out of wedlock, and in both beorc and laguz traditions, such actions were immoral. The fact that Muarim had done this to Lyre made Lethe quite furious indeed.
Lethe stormed into the tent to find that Lyre had just finished redressing. "Whore!" The older cat cursed her sister.
"What?!" Lyre snarled, her fists beginning to tighten as she stood up.
"You heard me! How dare you engage in mating before you exchanged vows? It's unforgivable! Ranulf and I might have kissed and cuddled a bit, but neither of us went so far as to break our chastity!"
"Stop accusing me of a crime for which I am innocent! I have no recollection of the incident and you have no right to accuse me of it!"
"No recollection? That's even worse, you shameless harlot! That means that you did it on a whim!" Lethe roared, startling her younger sister... Slightly...
Lyre was about to retort when Muarim asked: "Lethe, can I come in?"
Lethe and Lyre were both stunned speechless, and Lethe stepped aside to let Muarim through. When the tiger's head entered the doorway, Lethe gave his face a punch that sent him crashing on the ground, ripping a part of the tent with him.
"Adulterer! Dove-feathered crow! Smiling wolf! You've deceived my little sister for too long, and I thought that you were a brother!" Lethe railed at Muarim, cursing him to no end.
Muarim immediately growled back at her. "Do not accuse me of such things! Last night Lyre was so tired that she passed out when the two of us were looking at the moon. I brought her to my tent because I, too, was tired and her tent was still a distance away... Besides, I sensed something in the night near her tent..."
Lethe gasped. "You sensed something?!..." The cat shook her head. "YOU IDIOT!"
Lyre stared at Muarim in shock. Laguz's senses were far superior to that of Beorc's and, thus, if Muarim sensed something, that would be no laughing matter.
As if on cure, the three laguz heard a scream.
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Ike tightened his grip of Ragnell. "Release her!" He commanded.
The enemy assassin kept his knife on Lucia's throat. "And why would I, when I have the advantage here?" He smiled.
Soren stepped towards the pair, and put down his tome. "Ike..." He spoke, fixing his gaze into Lucia's own eyes.
Lucia seemed to understand, and she suddenly bit down on the villain's arm. As if on cure, Soren immediately cast Tornado on both of them, breaking the villain's hold on her. As the villain was thrown several feet away, with Boyd and Mia rushing forward with their blades drawn on him, Soren ran to Lucia and used his Mend staff on her.
The villain tried to leap up, but with one stroke downward Boyd cut him down. He immediately perished, his blood staining the grassy meadows near the encampment.
"I'm... I'm fine..." Lucia got up and waved Soren off as he continued trying to heal her. "It's nothing, really, but I'm shocked that he was able to burst out of Lyre's tent so readily..." Lucia turned to the tent, which was untouched other than the fact the fiend hid in it for a time.
Lyre ran to Ike's side. "Ike, I'm so sorry..."
"Lyre, that was quite irresponsible of you... Even if Astrid and Makalov were on watch, the fact of the matter is that you are responsible for your tent." Ike turned to the laguz, trying hard to mask his frustration.
Muarim stepped forward and sighed. "Ike, I am at fault here. You need not blame her. She fell asleep and I sensed something in the darkness, but I neglected to look into it."
Soren's eyes widened. "Then I hope you are well aware of what this error entails."
Lucia began to protest. "Soren, he..."
Soren shook his head. "Muarim, you have earned yourself the reputation of being very dependable and trustworthy. You went completely out of character here. Not only did you lie to yourself by shrugging this disturbance as non-threatening, you were also extremely irresponsible and did not fulfill your duties to the rest of us. I pray that you do not repeat this error, for there will be severe consequences."
Muarim nodded. "I understand... I know that apologies are meaningless, but you can be certain that this will not occur a second time."
"Then I'm certain of it." The mage smiled, shocking everyone with this reaction. He turned and simply strolled away.
Once again Ike turned to Lucia. "What did you do to him?"
Lucia blinked, aware of the various eyes staring at her. Assuming a commanding pose, she yelled. "Stop staring and get back to training, you curs!"
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But training quickly came to halt when a hawk came flying from the south. "General Ike, the fort is under siege! General Titania is having difficulty holding the east and south gates!" The messenger yelled.
"We're about to lose the territory we gained, and we cannot let that happen. Everyone, move out!" Ike commanded as the army quickly left its encampment and headed for Fort Kalak.
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He wore a thick black robe and carried a thick black tome wherever he went. The soldiers under his command often complained that their tactician had an eerie aura around him, and their complaints were quite valid. Wherever Bob walked, the plants near him would start to wither. He was a shaman, a practitioner of that secret school of magic commonly referred to as "Dark Magic."
It was insulting, really, to brand an entire field of knowledge as evil. Death is but a part of nature. Wielding the power to control death isn't necessarily evil. If one were to claim that death is evil, then weren't swords evil for causing death? Wouldn't natural magic such as wind be evil for destroying so many things? No, a weapon is a weapon and a tool is a tool. It is the user that makes a weapon strike with malice and makes a tool commit crimes. One who practices necromancy, a form of this so called "Dark Magic" could either use these energies to help prolong life, or raise skeletons to help with tasks, or he could use its raw power to protect others, or he could use it to kill mercilessly. It all depended on the user.
But, admittedly, Bob didn't have any good intentions behind his particular practice. Utilizing his dark magic, he helped revive dozens of skeletons and had them fight his troops as training. In his eyes, if they could defeat the undead, living foes would be powerless against Bob's forces.
General Saigo turned to Bob, demanding another word of advice from the tactician. "General Ike has a strategist, Soren, who is credited for winning scores of battles with few or no casualties. Soren is also credited with helping Crimea win the Mad King's War. Had it not been for his tactics, Crimea would be a province of Daein. Much of Crimea owes Soren for his efforts. I need you to think of a strategy to defeat such a man."
Bob laughed. "Ever since the last war, we Shamans were forced into hiding, because we were sinners against Ashera, but in the final fight to hold Nevassa against the remnants of the Daein loyalists, Begnion was forced to utilize its Shamans to help revive the dead and hold key positions. I am one of those Shamans, and I am certain that Soren has never seen my magic in action. I'm certain that people like him are very proud, and thus they believe that if a particular tactic won in the last war, they'd recycle it for the new one. That gives us the chance to destroy him and ensure our own victory!"
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The young general entered the fray. He witnessed a scene not that different from the chaos of the rebel attack on Gallia's capital. Gallian tigers and cats were tackling each other, and the screams of hawks and ravens filled the air. Just when Ike began to yell his orders at Titania and the other officers, a hawk suddenly fell from the skies, pierced by a ballista. Moments later, Soren yelled: "Everyone, break the formation!"
Their Crimean troops split up, and seconds later a huge stone smashed the ground they were marching on. The enemy brought siege weapons. Clearly, they had no intention of giving Soren any chance to take them down.
"They're above us!" Lucia managed, moments before twelve ravens smothered her. Kieran quickly rushed to save her with his axe, and shifted her onto his saddle. The red-armored paladin quickly fled into the forest. Frantically, Crimea's finest calvary was forced to risk smashing into the forests as they fled, trying to hide themselves from the wrath of their Kilvan opponents.
Crimean archers and mages hid in the shrubs, pelting their aerial foes with wind spells and piercing them with arrows. Soren regretted the fact that he did not master Fire: these enemy beast laguz eagerly swished through the trees in hot pursuit of his calvary units.
Kieran however, decided to make his gamble. As the beasts closed in on them from behind, Kieran had his calvary and allied laguz turn about and strike immediately, catching all of their foes off guard. With axes, bows, and spears, they turned completely around and struck back. Many an enemy laguz leapt right into a waiting spear, or their skulls would be crushed by an axe or paw, or they'd be struck in mid leap by arrows and crumble on the ground. Zihark, hiding behind Astrid as he sat behind her on her horse, nearly cried when he saw the carnage.
Like the last battle, Skimir was having fun. His uncle, who was forced to remain at the capital because he was King, ordered Skimir to obey Ike, Titania, and Soren's commands. Thus Skimir followed Titania's instructions and tore through the enemy laguz pack, slaying dozens and quickly quenching his thirst for blood. As the main fighter of the Fort, Skimir made sure that no enemy could enter the citadel. Though blood seeped freely into the soil because of him, his comrades could rest assured that Kalak would not fall into rebel hands.
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His comrade was covered in red, and he wasn't referring to the red suit of armor the corpse was wearing.
The liquid swished between his fingers, painting them in that wonderful color. There was far too much green on the land... Far too much blue in the sky. Maybe this color would fit much better.
His black robes seemed aesthetically interesting in this dull universe of repeating colors, though they were rather uncomfortable in this weather. Gallia was quite humid in the summer, and these robes weren't meant to keep one comfortable in the heat.
No, these robes were used to the cold. Not the cold of ice, but the cold that comes when a soul finally leaves in peace. The cold when a man stops moving after he's been skewered by a javelin. The cold when blight strikes a tree and leaves the plant stark. He was used to that cold, so feeling it all around him did nothing to faze Bob as he watched more Begnion warriors fall.
His job was to win this battle, not to worry about fools who fell before the enemy. The shaman spotted an enemy Paladin heading for him, and he mumbled a spell under his breath.
A ring of black surrounded the horse and rider, trapping both in its confines. Balls of violet flame burned brightly in the air, and they began to encircle their master's foe, spinning ever faster and faster. Finally, they dived in at once and seared the flesh of the Crimean warrior, and Bob smiled at his scream. 'Twas a rather intense experience indeed, taking down another enemy fool in one's way.
Rhys could sense it. This form of magic was unlike anything he'd seen before. It was cold, but not like the cool or frozen breezes of wind, no, this was a different kind of coldness. It was eerie, mysterious, and Rhys couldn't help but grab tightly on his Rexaura tome.
The other Crimean Bishops, too, noticed this sensation, and none of them felt at ease. Since Rhys was the veteran Bishop of their battalion, all of the Bishops turned to him. There was another Crimean Bishop who also knew Rexaura, but he was old and frail, unlike Rhys who, though much weaker than a Crimean Mage, could still withstand a blow or two from an enemy sword.
Soren also sensed a disturbance in the magical energies around them, and shared worried glances with Bastian and the other sages. Even though the fighters and magically-deprived warriors of their party could not sense the danger ahead, Soren warned his comrades of this new magical surge. He readied Smack and Thoron and prepared himself for the worst.
Then, he appeared...
Violet fire burned eagerly as Bob stepped forward. Blinding flashes of light sprouted from the ground as Rhys ran forward to protect his comrades from the Shaman. Bob retreated slightly, he feared the might of Rexaura, but the Shaman knew better than to let the enemy Bishop get too close. Several enemy sages quickly ran in front of Rhys, casting Elfire and Elthunder to drive him off. After all, the only anima magic neutral to both Light and Dark was Wind, for the Wind can do little to disperse light or darkness. Fire burns stronger than light and Thunder shines with a much greater and deadlier intensity than its holy counterpart. The darkness can easily engulf both fire and thunder, but shirks back from the holy powers of Light. Thus, these Fire and Thunder Sages forced Rhys to retreat. (1.)
Bastian, realizing that they needed to stall Bob for as long as they could, cast Elfire, but watched in horror as the spell was merely absorbed by the dark energies surrounding their foe.
"Use Rexcaliber!" Soren yelled, running forward to assist the older sage.
Bastian tried to use the spell, but Bob's fire sages countered with Rexflame, forcing Bastian to cringe back in fear of the flames. Wind only helped fan and enhance Fire, it wasn't very effective at dispersing it.
Soren, realizing that Bob's troops could make short work of Bastian, ran to the opposite side, away from the Fire sages, and cast Smack. The winds howled as they focused themselves into a single unified gale that tore through the enemy thunder sages and scattered their electrical bolts. The gale surged forward and struck the dark sorcerer, but he quickly used a Rewarp staff and escaped.
With Bob having retreated, Soren ordered the Crimean Pegasus Knights to dive from the sky and strike the enemy. Bastian, using Bolgagone, burned those mages who would use wind against Crimea's finest aerial forces.
With Bob having gone, the laguz of both the ground and air charged forward, slashing and clawing their way through their foes. Magic, Blade, and Claw fought for supremacy in what was quickly becoming a barren land, and, finally, after hours of slaughter, Skimir tore apart an enemy raven and the surviving rebel and Begnion troops retreated.
Saigo cursed himself and his men for their defeat. Bob was nowhere to be found, so he couldn't account for his failure. The general slammed his head into a rock, racking his brains to find a strategy. Ike and his men began to rest. They had a long fight indeed, but their trial was far from over. (2.)
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(1.) You've noticed that I used the magic triangle here. I'm not trying to make it seem cartoony, but in my opinion because Magic is fantasy anyways, the triangle makes sense. Based on magical theory, Light is holy. It therefore has great power against the unholy darkness. However, based on physics, Light is much weaker than Fire or Thunder, which by the intensity of their energies alone could easily take it down.
Also based on physics, Wind fans flames and helps them grow stronger. Wind VS Thunder is clearly fantasy, but, still, wind could probably disperse electricity based on its innate strength. I don't see how Wind has any relation to Light or Darkness, so I made it neutral. Can't have everything based on the game, right? (Unless my guess is right and Wind is neutral to Light and Dark, in which case I must think like a Fire Emblem programmer, lol.)
(2.) Because the battles get kind of repetitive, I wanted to introduce a new character (well, two, but one will become quite important later in the fic), and help give voice to some of the characters who were not allowed to speak. I apologize for the lack of violence, but, hey, there's always the next chapter.
Thanks for reading!