A/N: There's no way I've forgotten about this story. I fully intend on continuing this until it's finished. I have yet to fully adjust to this semester's schedule, but when I do, I'll return to my usual biweekly updating pattern. One more thing: I'll be getting hit with six tests on the coming two weeks, so I have the best of intention on updating the next chapter in the first week of March.

Enjoy!

Chapter 9

I couldn't help but relive so many painful memories I had pushed aside after the end of the Mad King's War. All the worry, uncertainty, and loss of hope I experienced prior to joining the Greil Mercenaries that was born out of a fear-driven propaganda the Crimean nobles – including Duke Renning – launched upon people like Brom and I, in order to get us to join a hopeless cause. We were told that Daeins were nothing more than warmongering monsters, that they were bent in destroying our way of life because they were jealous of us, and that they would extirpate whatever they deemed unworthy once their grip on Crimea's throne was solidified. Needless to say, many of us believed the demonic picture our leaders gave us in our most desperate hour. Some went as far as to declare Daeins as less "human" than the neighboring Gallians.

I stopped believing in those nasty images and false rumours as we kept on winning battle after battle under Ike's leadership, because as it turned out, the Mad King's War was the result of a difference of opinion between the Daein and Crimean monarchs when it came to dealing with the laguz – that's what General Ike and Queen Elincia told us once Ashnard died. Even though everything we were fed about Daeins being evil monsters was a lie, the fear they inflicted upon us was very real.

And as the months went by, I realized how utterly stupid I was to believe those types of lies. The very fact that I used to believe in a country filled with only ill-meaning people, whose ultimate goal was to rid us of our joy, always made me want to bash my head against the wall because nothing in this world sounded more far-fetched. It was all a ridiculous and naïve part of my life, until I met Soldat. He embodied everything… everything that was just wrong; wrong when it came to basic human decency, and he just seemed to purposely go against the Goddesses teachings.

I didn't even know him for very long and my mind was already made up. After looking at me with his hateful and cold eyes, I knew that he wasn't just some scorned Daein with a bone to pick with every Crimean. He was a bad person with a hollow heart. And I didn't need much proof beyond the fact that he treated Jill like dirt or how he pushed aside a beggar that approached us. This man made me want to just grab Meg and leave. The thought of him and I being in the same side made me sick to my stomach; however, I reminded myself that good people like Jill and Zihark were also with me, and I felt like I had to help them because not only did they save me not to long ago, but because they aided my country when I was in their position.

I hoped Soldat was leading us to some far corner in the city, so hearing his voice could be delayed even for a little bit longer. My luck's never been good to me. Our way was blocked in an alley by a group of five Begnion soldiers being led by a man dressed in white robes. Judging from his clothes and staff, he looked like a high-ranking church official. The man in white pointed at Soldat, and the soldiers raised their lances. As crimson-clad men slowly approached the Daein soldier, Jill and I backed away a few steps – curiously, we were completely ignored.

Within a few seconds, Soldat was surrounded, and he looked bored despite the threatening sharp weapons close to his neck. The bishop closed the distance between him and Soldat once any retaliation by the ebon-clad man was obviously suicidal. As to take one last precaution, the bishop produced a tome from his robes.

"Why all the weapons, my son?" the bishop asked with shaky tone.

Soldat raised an eyebrow and scoffed. "I could ask you the same question, priest."

"This is a peaceful town," the bishop continued, ignoring Soldat's magnificent observation, "and you walking around with and armory's worth of arms is inciting some uneasiness amongst the nice people of Cisqua."

"Are you really being bothered by my weapons?" He took a small step forward, and everyone reacted fearfully by backing off a bit. "There's plenty of mercs walking around and drinking the day away, and some of them look more menacing than me." I disagreed with that statement. Soldat looked more intimidating than the clumsy-looking mercenaries in Cisqua. "I think your problem with me is something else." He casually brushed his armored left shoulder with his right hand, being blatantly obvious about his Daein Army armour.

"Well, my son, all those weapons and your… appearance do fit the profile for a potentially dangerous person." Soldat sneered at the clergyman.

I noticed Soldat's right hand hover around one of his daggers, his fingers moved as if he was eager to grab the handle. "Please explain yourself," he taunted.

Before the argument could escalate any further, Jill stepped in. She bypassed the lancers in front of us by sliding her slim figure between them. The wyvern rider grabbed Soldat's arm and she bowed awkwardly before the priest. I was caught a little off-guard by her sudden intervention in the escalating violent scene before us. Since she decided to intervene, I rooted myself to the ground and mentally prepared myself to aid her if things got ugly.

"Please forgive my associate!" Jill pleaded. "He's a mercenary I hired to protect me and my friend. However, it seems that he has the intelligence of a simian!" she snapped at Soldat.

The bishop stroked his chin. His face scrunched a little, hinting some recognition. "Aren't you that wyvern delivery girl? Haar's partner?"

"Yes!" Jill straightened up and looked at the bishop. "Yes I am! Haar and I have delivered many works of art to your church, Your Excellency."

The bishop smiled at the honorific Jill used. "Ah, yes. I don't want to sound intrusive, but what are you delivering this time?"

Jill's back stiffened. When she didn't give an answer, I decided to interject before we looked suspicious in the eyes of armed Begnion soldiers. "She's escortin' me, sir. Some of the roads are very dangerous," I learned that the hard way, "and my friend offered to fly me to places like this fine city."

He seemed to ponder on what I said to him, but I knew that he would realize that something didn't quite add up. "Then why have the brute with you?" he asked, pointing at Soldat with his thumb.

Soldat sneered again… Apparently, he didn't want to be helpful in the difficult situation he created! "Can't be… too careful," I answered lamely.

There was a moment of silence before Soldat spoke. "You see, priest, the ladies have heard some very disturbing rumours regarding General Jarod and his unfortunate accident. Travelers are a little worried." Soldat looked around, and then he added, "There's even some whispers of an upcoming revolution. You can imagine how unsafe these," he grabbed my shoulder and Jill's, "two must feel."

Soldat's gloved hand felt so unnaturally cold. The only similar sensation that I could think of was the chilling blow of a wind spell. I felt numb when he released me. But while I was being worried about Soldat's low temperature, the men that surrounded us looked concerned for some reason. The bishop stuttered before getting ahold of himself. "Don't go around spreading those false rumours!" False? "I don't know who told you three that our General Jarod was injured…"

"I didn't say he was injured," Soldat chimed smugly. The tension was so thick that it should've been visible. I envisioned at least five horrible scenarios in less that twelve seconds, none of them happened. The clergyman simply shot Soldat a hateful glare and left with the soldiers without saying another word. I made a mental note to visit a nearby church and pray my eternal gratitude to Ashera once I found the time.

"What the blazes is wrong with you?" Jill hissed at Soldat, and I made sure that no one was close enough to hear us – some people were watching us form a distance once they saw a group of soldiers leave. "It's bad enough that you irritate all your allies to the brink of insanity, but do you have to do it to our enemies while we're in their territory?"

"You silly girl," Soldat raised his hand and he looked as if he was going to pat Jill's head, but she grabbed his wrist before he had a chance to lower it.

"I have a pretty big wyvern," she threatened.

"Cute," he replied as he released himself from her grip. "They were never going to do anything to us. Not in public, anyway. And it pertains to what I have to tell you. If we could just continue without you making another scene, I'll be able to explain a few things, and you have to share whatever Tauroneo is thinking."

With wrecked nerves and a feeling of lightheadedness, I continued to follow Jill and Soldat's lead. There was no exchange between us, although I had the impression that Jill wanted to say something to me, because she kept looking back at me. I couldn't blame her for staying silent. After all, with him around, talking would've felt like an unnecessary burden. Or maybe Jill wanted to tell me something important that he, by no means, could know about?

My mind wondered to the hierarchy of Daein's freedom fighters. General Tauroneo was obviously the commander and he answered to the mysterious Prince of Daein I hadn't met. But I was curious about Jill's standing in the army, especially since she talked back to Soldat, and he fits the description of a Daein officer: big, mean and scary. I wasn't interested in gaining some comfortable position, and I didn't mind being at the back of the pack when it came to military standing, but I wished that Jill – or Zihark – held an important position to perhaps ask them to assign very far away from Soldat and his ilk.

I didn't want to believe that the organization inside the Daein Liberation Army was so bad that underlings could misbehave to their superiors... I settled on the possibility of different parties within the army having difficulties when it came to communicating information; after all, that's the impression I got when Jill reprimanded Soldat for not being on the battle that took place on the desert.

It wasn't long before Soldat lead Jill and me to what I assumed to be Cisqua's… least desirable district. The streets were filled with brutish-looking mercenaries and prostitutes trying to court potential customers; the houses weren't in terrible conditions, but I did spot a few broken windows and cracked walls, and there was a huge lack of patrols. I was never much of a tactician, but I mentally told myself to find out if there was a gate that lead to this shady part of town, because it seemed to be the perfect place to strike first due to its lack of Begnion vigilance.

Subconsciously, I think I knew to what kind of place we were going to end up in; because when I noticed that we were heading to a tavern, I wasn't the surprised at all – I might've been disappointed if we it had been a nice restaurant that served edible food. The sign above the Tavern's entrance read "The Foaming Jugs". Before we made our way inside, a drunken patron ran outside and collided with Soldat. Surprisingly, he did not fall; instead, he looked at the man in front of him and smiled.

"Why… 'ello there, boss. Ya got some work for me and my buds?" The whistling that came as a result of the man's wooden teeth made me cringe quite a bit.

Soldat pushed him aside. "Take a bath and maybe we'll talk."

Just when I thought we were finished with him, about two dozen just like him were sitting inside the dimly lit tavern. All of them seemed to recognize Soldat. "There must be a better place," Jill stated.

"I know this very hospitable bordello and it's just down the street. You might learn something from the nice employees there, like how to get rid of that giant stick up your ass!" Soldat snapped.

Jill wisely gave no attention to his rude remark, and she pointed to an empty table at the corner of the room. The three of us sat down around the table Jill spotted before anyone else could take it. I think Soldat assumed that Jill and I would be the first ones to start talking about the issues, but after a few awkward moments in silence passed, Soldat raised his arm. "Barkeep, bring me a beer," he said. "Do both of you need a drink to loosen your tongues?"

"We're fine." Jill waved her hand dismissively. "It's you who should start talking. Nephenee and I are here under order of General Tauroneo, while you seem to be here to befriend some locals."

"We might need a few mercenaries," he said thoughtfully. "Fair enough, I'll go first. This city used to be King Ashnard's 'Golden Goose', meaning that our late leader got more than half of his war funding from Cisqua alone. The amount of money here is unbelievably high, and that's why Numida hasn't touched this place at all. He's ransacked every other place, but he has managed Cisqua just as King Ashnard did."

"That doesn't explain why you're here," Jill pointed out.

"Among other things, I've been following all those shiny gold and silver coins. They are trying to keep any hostilities to a minimum, which is why that bishop never had any intention of apprehending me, in an attempt to not disturb the nice and smooth flow of money. " Soldat chuckled. "Numida has underfunded the Occupation Army, which gives us an advantage if General Tauroneo heeds my advice of leaving Cisqua untouched for the early stages of the uprising."

I cocked my eyebrow questioningly because something about what he said didn't make sense. If Cisqua was such an asset to Begnion, then taking it away from them as soon as possible felt like the logical conclusion. I wanted to voice my opinion, but I decided against it. No good would've come out from starting an argument with him. And Jill's curious expression told me that she had come to the same conclusion. Although, she appeared more willing than I in challenging Soldat's strange – or lack of – logic.

"General Tauroneo is aware of all of this; care to explain why both of you have different opinions?" Jill inquired.

Soldat crossed his arms and shook his head. "Let's not start talking strategy."

Jill sighed. "Fine."

"Your turn." Soldat pointed at us.

"We're gathering information for General Tauroneo." Jill and I scanned our surroundings, trying to see if someone was trying to eavesdrop, no one was. "I don't have an exact date for you, but we need to find out if Numida will be visiting Cisqua anytime soon before we leave. As you probably know, he visits Cisqua on a regular basis, and the General doesn't want to face his sizable group of guards this early on."

"Sounds like he can still manage a few sensible thoughts in his senile years," he rudely commented.

Jill clenched her jaw in annoyance. "But seeing how you have an ear to the ground on everything that goes on here, I'll ask you if you know something about Numida's next scheduled visit?"

"You expect me to share information that sensitive – and obtained through many hardships, mind you – with a woman with loose loyalties?" He turned his attention to me. "And a Crimean?" He made sure to sound disgusted when he spoke that last word. If he intended to insult me because of my nationality, then he failed. I was still a little sensitive when it came to what others thought of me, but I knew that whatever Soldat thought of me would just bounce back.

"There's nothing left to discuss if you're going to act like a child." As Jill and I got up, a frail-looking old man with a beer-filled mug came by our table.

"Here you go, sir." He handed Soldat the glass. "Can I interest your friends in something?"

"They were just leaving." The old man nodded and left. Soldat reached inside his cuirass and pulled out a letter. "Tell him to think twice before ruining years of planning." He tossed the piece of paper at Jill.

She caught it, but before reading its contents, she and I noticed that the letter was stamped with Begnion's insignia. "What is it?"

"A letter Numida wrote to Count Cisqua. He's ordering the Count to withdraw fifteen percent of the treasury in order to build a mercenary army."

"I-I will deliver this to him at once," Jill stammered.

"By the way, that letter is the original. Count Cisqua received a forgery I made…. A while back, so expect everything to go according to their plans." Soldat raised his glass. "Cheers."

Jill and I left before he undid his muffler. She read the letter on our way out and she did not look happy when she finished. Her surprised expression turned into an infuriated one. Her fingers twitched, almost ripping the Numida's letter. Without saying anything, she gave me the piece of paper. I didn't need to know read the whole thing to know what had angered Jill. The letter was dated back to the day after Begnion's attack on the desert fortress. She and I looked at each other and I could tell what had miffed her, because it was the same thing that was slowly eating me away.

Soldat must've known about this for more than one week and he didn't even come forth with this information. "Bastard," I whispered.

XXXX

No matter how many times he tried, how hard concentrated, or even his good intentions to stop himself, Volug couldn't control his own body. He wanted to be by Queen Nailah's side; instead, he stalked an army of ebon-clad men in their journey across the desert. Whatever abomination that controlled him was compelled to follow the Butcher's orders, which made Volug feel like a lowly dog slave. The wolf's pride was badly hurt. He had been a respected warrior among his kind, and later reduced to a human's hunting toy.

The Butcher had ordered him to watch over the humans, and to ensure the safety of one beorc who wore elegant clothing. This required him to stay as far away as possible, unless he needed to close the distance between him and the special human to protect him from danger. However, Volug wished he had been allowed closer to the humans, because they might've put him out of his misery if the rumours of beorc reacting hostilely towards unknown creatures turned out to be true.

The wolf's mind grew weary as time went by. It could've been days, or it could've been seconds, but he was tired nonetheless. His sense of time – like his sanity – was something he lost as time went on. He withdrew his conciseness deep in his mind – where the loose beast had no presence - so that he could rest while his body continued to serve the Butcher's bidding.