Chapter 20
The clouds were gathering again. They formed a sheet, as appeared to be their modus operandi for this time of the year in Lieben. The Grandmaster glared back up at their silvery light, an indistinct frown on his face as sunlight peeked through the blanket and made gold cracks therein. A harsh wind sent the strategist's favorite cloak billowing along his back, flapping loudly and shaking his arms as they hung loosely at his sides. In response, he tightened his posture, bracing himself and holding his ensemble together more tightly, shivering reflexively due to the burst of cold that accompanied the quick whip of wind. He closed his eyes and allowed a sigh to escape his lips.
"It's pretty lonely out here," a frank voice noted in his general direction.
The Grandmaster opened one eye and tilted his head back, finding his redheaded daughter sporting a few furs over her clothes and an interrogative angle to her eyebrows. "I've come to appreciate those sort of circumstances, yes," he returned to the clouds, then added, "Here I thought you didn't want to speak to me."
"Cut the crap," she ordered less patiently, "You and I both know why I'm here... because you're here." Her father took a step to turn closer to her and shot her a look. "This is... Lieben Keep isn't much further, is it? Maybe another skirmish in another town, at most, and we'll be there." The Grandmaster nodded, offering her the chance to continue. "And you think... that will be the big one, huh?"
"I still have many questions as to how this all got started, but I have a feeling Argent will be able to answer a lot of them for me," he seemed to agree.
"So, the other set of orders we found," Morgan reasoned, "You think the one who issued them was the one who ordered the attack on Ylisse?" Robin nodded briefly. "But... something about that doesn't sit right with me," Morgan admitted, holding her head with one hand. Her father cocked an eyebrow. "See," the thief recalled, "when I got caught in the attack, I was approached by a group of three, and there was this guy who seemed to be leading them, a guy with purple hair, he told me to tell you that your 'time was over' or something stupid like that, and then told one of his groupies to kill me."
"Why would he give you that message and then order you executed?" Robin cocked an eyebrow.
"Good question," she racked her brain, "but... I mean, I made it out alive, maybe he planned for that to happen or was just trying to be intimidating... heck if I know."
Robin stroked his bearded chin, "So, if I'm understanding correctly, you think our menace is someone else?"
"Yes," she confirmed, "I'm... almost certain he said his name was Nihilus."
"An alias for our known malefactor, perhaps?" her father supposed.
"Maybe," the thief's brain was straining now, "but it still bothers me that I haven't seen either of his subordinates yet... Maybe our enemies have a few more aces up their sleeves than we think."
Robin nodded silently, "Hm... that muddies the waters on an already unclear problem... Well, thank you for the information, Morgan. I'm sure it will prove a useful consideration going forward."
"Right," she folded her arms.
After waiting a moment, her father turned around again, "Was there anything else?"
She took a breath and dropped her arms, "No, I don't think so. I'm going to get dinner with Inigo and the others." Her father nodded again and the thief took off, shoving her hands in her pockets.
[...]
Lucina looked intently at her friend as she slowly leaned back, raking her fingers through her long hair, and removed the gold tiara that held her sapphire locks back. Lowering it carefully onto the ground beside her, she let her bangs fall along the sides of her face and hit her cheeks, sighing quietly.
"...and so I told him off, and punched him in his big, dumb face. They started chasing us after that, and we vowed to bring them all down," Severa concluded.
"'Vowed' is a little strong," Brady corrected, it was more like, 'Say, if these guys are gonna be such jerks, we should teach 'em a lesson!'"
"Either way, whoever these mercenaries are, they're no good," Severa understated, "And whoever's leading them is quite the charismatic individual."
"Every one of 'em is extremely skilled, extremely determined, and extremely pissed," Brady supplemented.
"Curious," Laurent adjusted his glasses, "I should greatly like to meet the individual responsible for allying such disparate entities as sellswords, and I should further like to examine his reason for doing so."
"Probably just for territory of something," Nah folded her arms, "You humans fight so many wars for such silly reasons. Manaketes live so long, it's actually easier and faster to resolve disputes by just talking them out. Your kind could learn a lot from us."
"I can empathize with our forefathers' lack of trust or interest in being lectured by fire-breathing beasts who could fell one of them in a single strike," Laurent noted sharply, "And often did."
"A lot of my people were going through phases at that time," Nah defended.
"Try to focus," Kjelle, scowling, demanded attention, "We need to get a clear picture of what these cowards are planning so that we can be prepared to fight back.
"Well," all heads turned to Lucina as she cleared her throat, "we haven't had much trouble pushing them back to the coast. I surmise that they're numerous, but unorganized, and so marching in one direction, bottlenecking them, should be enough to stomp them out."
"A logical inference," Laurent nodded, "but what about the possibility of a flanking maneuver?"
"As I said," the princess reiterated, "We've corralled the mercenaries pretty effectively; there's no way they can get around us or through us, and thusly, behind us."
"I see," Laurent adjusted his glasses again, "Forgive me for questioning your impeccable strategy, Lucina."
"It's fine, I'd rather be sure I've covered all the possible problems," the lord smiled pleasantly.
"So, alls I need to know is who's head are we smashing in next?" Brady cracked his knuckles, flashing a satisfied grin.
"The mercenaries have an outpost just east of Pescanti, that's only a few miles south of where the first attack hit. If we can dismantle their forces there, we'll be close to completely wiping their forces out," Lucina explained, confidence exuding from her proud posture.
"When you put it that way, it sounds like we're practically done already," Severa replied with mild amusement.
"Well begun is half done, as they say," Laurent suggested, "and Lucina has certainly begun very well."
"Then let's put this silly thing to rest, already!" Nah hopped up. Lucina smiled, pleased at her friend's enthusiasm.
The tent flap flew open, "Don't be so sure."
The children of the Shepherds reached for their weapons, but the woman before them halted their movement with any icy leer. Lucina hazarded to speak, "And who are you?"
"Don't recognize me?" the woman sighed disaffectedly, flipping her hair, "I guess most people don't get a good look at my face... My name is Tharja, and I served with the Shepherds."
Laurent tapped a finger on his forehead, "Ah, yes, I thought you seemed familiar. My mother is still interested in running a few experiments with your assistance, if you're amenable."
"Forget the experiments," the Plegian sorceress growled, "Those mercenaries you talked about... they're planning a counterattack. I don't know what kind or when, but it's happening."
"So, our enemies are gonna fight us at some point? Thanks for the hot tip," Brady rolled his eyes.
"Watch your tone, priest," she snarled, "I could have you croaking like a toad with a snap of my fingers."
"Lady Tharja," Lucina tried to defuse the argument, "Can you provide us any specifics?"
"Regrettably, not really," the Plegian queen shook her head, "But I'm sure this counterattack is happening soon. I mean 'a few days from now' soon."
"Then thank you for this critical information," Lucina bowed, "You must have traveled far, why don't you go catch up with a few of your comrades and rest up while I finish discussing strategy with my team?"
Tharja poked her head outside the tent, then pulled back in, "To the rest, yes, to the mingling... I'll pass. I want to make sure you're taking me seriously, though, princess."
"Of course," Lucina swore, offering her right hand, "I doubt none of what you've said, but I do need time to readjust my plans."
"Good," Tharja folded her arms, still sounding dissatisfied, "If you get killed, it won't be my fault. Next, I had a question for you."
"Please," the princess gestured with her hand.
"Have you seen Robin at all in your campaign?" Tharja's eyes became bright.
The Ylissean princess shook her head, "As I recall, he left to confront our aggressors before I had the opportunity to return home. Leo and Anna helped me to recover my father's castle, however; I believe they were following him."
"That's useful info," surmised the Plegian sorceress, "I think I'll have a bite to eat and then get on their trail, know where they went?"
"After they left the castle, I haven't a clue," Lucina shrugged, "I seem to recall them talking to Sully, maybe she'll know."
"Mm," Tharja digressed quickly, hurrying out of the tent.
The sapphire-haired princess massaged her forehead, "Now, what else do we need to account for before we move forward...?"
On a hill not far away, the sound of footsteps droned, armor clinked, and several thousand jaws were clenched shut, swallowing fear and hesitation at the thought of their deed. Still, this was the will of their leader, and they would follow him regardless of consequence; the decision was out of their hands. Five thousand soldiers clutched their weapons and marched on.
[...]
"It's getting close," the amethyst-haired man told the window, "it will be any day now..."
The door opened with a gentle brush against the rug and a few footsteps introduced the woman who entered. She bowed and saluted her superior as she drew near.
"Dahlia," he turned to face her, "Were the healers able to fix you up properly?"
"Yes, sir," she rubbed her still-tender jaw, "I will continue to serve without difficulty for the foreseeable future."
"That's good," he bowed his head simply, seeming to inspect his clothing, "I will have great need of you."
"Sir?" Dahlia put her hand to her chest.
"I intend to make for Lieben," her superior elaborated, "And I was planning on having both of my most experienced troops at my side, but one is still better than nothing."
"I'm honored, milord," the rose-haired swordswoman accepted, "but there's still the matter of the interloper that freed Exalt Chrom and his wife..."
"Let them go," Nihilus commanded sternly, "We've already gotten our objective. By the time the tactician discovers Chrom has been freed, it will be too late to change his course, too late for anyone to change the course. And, in any case, I'm far too eager to finally put my skills to the test against his."
"Then I will comply," Dahlia swore.
Nihilus nodded and sat down on his bed, "Gods, it will be good to leave this room for a bit... I hope you aren't too cross with me for my punishment."
"Milord's judgment was just," Dahlia answered quickly.
"Do you really think that?" the amethyst-haired man wondered aloud, an unnatural waver hitting his voice.
"Does milord question my loyalty?" Dahlia stepped closer.
"Not at all," he refuted, "quite the opposite, really. I broke your jaw, dear, you have every right to be pissed with me."
"Never, sir. I promised to follow you to the end of the world and back," the woman smiled slightly, "If that means I get my ass handed to me every now and again, even if it's by you, I'm willing to accept those conditions."
"You make a better soldier than I, Dahlia," Nihilus shrugged, "Can I ask why you remain so faithful?"
"We've been over this," she sighed, "You and I hold the same ideals at heart, end of story. I believe in what you've told me, and I am prepared to do everything necessary to ensure your plan comes to fruition."
"I get the sense that that's not all," Nihilus countered honestly, turning a frown at her.
"I'm sorry my explanation dissatisfies you," the Rose Blade sighed, "It is all I can offer.
"That," her superior continued, "and I know so little about you, Dahlia. You come out of nowhere and fight like the type of hero they write songs about, then bend the knee as soon as I extend the offer... you're a great mystery."
"My life has always been filled with hardship... I told you what my parents did, what I was forced to do... Your offer was my chance at a new life, and I'm thankful for it every day. That's why... That's why I..."
Nihilus waited for her to say more, but the swordswoman's mouth shut itself slowly, her eyes dropping to the floor. "Well, I may be a bit of a bastard to work with, but I know no finer soldier in my employ than you," he began to smile.
"High praise, coming from you, sir. Thank you," she accepted graciously.
"Someday, when this is all over..." the amethyst-haired man looked back up to the window, "I don't know if it will be possible, I'll still have so much management to do, but..." He wrestled with his thoughts for a moment as Dahlia, after receiving nonverbal approval, sat beside him on the bed.
"But?" the rose-haired woman watched carefully.
"But I'd like to have some of my old life back. And I think you... er, could play a part in it. A rather large part," he stuttered.
"I fear I don't understand," the woman bit her lip.
He nodded slowly to himself, "You never could, of course... I... enjoy your company, Dahlia. I hope to continue entertaining it long after our battle is won."
The Rose Blade blushed, turning her head away, then, without thinking, wrapped her arms into an embrace of her superior and pressed her lips onto his for a few blissful seconds before breaking away and standing, trying to remove or undo the impertinence, as if that were possible.
But the swordswoman was fortunate, as this maneuver had rendered her superior equally speechless. His cheeks flushed a bit, too, as he glanced up at her. Nihilus shook his head as he looked back down. "Make... Make your preparations," he stammered, "I want to be in Lieben by tomorrow night."
The Rose Blade murmured her assent and slipped hurriedly out of the room, covering her face.
[...]
Anna lay the staff at her side, kneeling before her son, the wet grass staining her pants, until the boy's eyes finally opened, slowly, but then all at once. He coughed weakly and scratched his neck, then felt his side, searching for any remainder of the wound. The area was rash-red and hot, as well as sore to the touch, but there was no flesh missing and no bleeding, and for that, the assassin was grateful. After a moment's struggle, he sat up, "Thanks, mom. Sure is a good thing you're so handy with a staff." Anna paused and looked to the side. "What's wrong?" her son took note.
"Huh?" she jumped back into reality, "Oh, nothing, I just felt a weird sense of déjà-vu."
"Well, what's the game plan from here on out?" Leo wondered, getting more comfortable.
"Good question," Anna sat back and put her finger to her chin, "I'm inclined to wait for your brother, but we can't take too much time..."
"And there's a chance he might be-"
"Leo!" his mother scolded him, holding her head back, "Just... don't."
"Right, sorry," the assassin brushed some grass from his pants, "In my business, I just get used to it. Sacrifices happen, we acknowledge them, and we move on."
"I'm not moving on from anything just yet," the merchant folded her arms irritably, "in case you've forgotten what this whole trip was for."
"Of course I haven't," Leo replied, "Just gotta be realistic, mom. The starry-eyed ones die first."
Anna glared at her son, earning her a mildly apologetic frown. The merchant sat back, extending her palms into the dirt and tossing her head back to the sky, seeing it grow slowly more gray and purple. Evening was upon them, as well as some markedly poor Valmese weather. She could only pray the road to her husband didn't extend much further. "We have to wait for Steven. He's our best bet for information on your father."
"I'm perfectly capable of conducting an investigation," the assassin thumbed at himself, "It's part of my job description."
"But we don't have time to wait for you to stalk around alleys for weeks, eavesdropping and murdering your way to a conclusion," his mother retorted.
"Crivens," Leo spat, "Can I ever not play second fiddle?"
"All I'm asking you to do is be patient," the redhead concluded.
"And what if it turns out he's dead after all?" the boy lay back on his crossed arms, "What happens when reality bursts your best-case-scenario bubble?"
"We'll figure something out," Anna snorted, in no mood.
As the pair lay back and pondered, Leo dug into his pocket and groped around for something. Finding it, he explored the surface of the object to ensure it was the right one and let out a very short sigh of relief before producing a small amber vial from his other pocket. Hesitating only a few seconds, he leaned over and offered the bottle to his mother, "Take some o' this salve. It ain't exactly a vulnerary, but it'll fix up those couple'a cuts you got."
Anna blinked, then took the bottle graciously, "Thanks, hon."
"Sure," her son murmured to the sky.
"Oh, and Leo," she piped up again.
He picked his head up, "Huh?"
Reaching into a bag, Anna pulled out a small sheet of pale yellow fabric and presented it to her son. He grasped the item and noticed an insignia embroidered into its lower-right corner that matched the emblem on his own salmon garment. He pinched the corners of the fabric with both hands and stared quizzically at his mother. "It's a scarf. To keep you warm. Mom wouldn't want you to freeze to death," she smiled.
"But, the emblem..." he wondered.
"If you're an assassin, I embrace it," she shrugged, "Work is work. As long as you keep yourself safe and you know what you're doing, your mother will always have your back. And I'll be lining up to see you play first fiddle."
The assassin's eyes widened and he buried his face, tying the yellow fabric loosely around his neck so that it gathered into a mound below his chin, accenting the soft roundness of his jaw. "Th-Thanks, mom," he muttered behind creased eyes, extending his arms for a hug. She took it and patted his auburn hair as they sat.
Presently, however, footsteps started to drag across the grass, and the pair looked back. "Is that Leo showing tenderness over there?" Steven, who smirked despite his ragged and bloodstained clothing, as well as equally bloody and dirty hands and face, stumbled over to the pair, "Has anyone checked to see if hell is freezing over?"
"Gods dammit," Leo turned away.
"Glad to see you're okay, Steve," Anna smiled, straightening up her hair.
"I told you I'd be fine," he patted his chest proudly before coughing, "and I even learned a little something."
The merchant's eyes glowed, "Do tell."
"See, I met this charming young lady by the docks," the silver-haired man began.
"Oh, shut up," his brother spat.
"Listen," Steven insisted, scowling, "She claimed to be an associate of the man who attacked us. She said he told her he would be going to Lieben after today."
"And why should we believe her?" Leo demanded.
"I'm inclined to agree with your brother," Anna nodded.
Steven's face fell, "I suppose I have no empirical evidence, but this man did seem to know you, mother. Do you suppose there's any chance he's connected to father?"
"Honey, I haven't the foggiest," the redhead exhaled, falling down onto the grass.
"Then don't take her word for it, take mine."
The group all whipped their heads around to find a figure suddenly appeared from the shadows of the slowly darkening forest. A scarlet hood covered the figure's face as it loomed menacingly over the trio.
"You," Steven took a step forward, "You're the one who saved me, right?"
"You know this guy?" Anna looked back and forth between her son and the intruder.
"I'm not sure," the silver-haired man admitted.
"I don't know who you are or what you're talking about," the figure shook its head derisively, "But I do know it's in your best interest to get to Lieben immediately."
"Why should we trust you?" Leo clutched a throwing knife in his hand.
The figure turned and adjusted its posture, angling its legs in a fighting stance toward the assassin. Leo's brow jumped up, "What? But that... You must be..."
"That's right," the figure nodded, "So understand that I'm doing you a favor. Get to Lieben posthaste. You'll be glad you did."
"...Very well," Leo bowed and folded his arms.
Anna cocked her head to the side, "You believe him all of a sudden?"
"He has the technique of one of my comrades. No one else learns that pose and lives outside of the Brotherhood," Leo responded matter-of-factly.
"If you say so," Anna watched the intruder carefully.
"Don't waste time, get moving!" was the figure's last command before it dove into the shadows again. The trio shrugged and rose to begin moving.
Anna, in particular, bit her lip and looked back at Steven, "So, was that the guy you knew or not?"
Steven stared at the ground, his eyebrows moving back and forth like they were conducting a tennis match.
"Steven?" his mother asked a little louder.
The silver-haired man's eyes popped up, "Huh! Uh, what was that?"
"Did you know him or not?" the merchant reiterated.
"Hard to say," Steven scratched his head, vexed.
"Can we trust him?" she added.
The silver-haired man stared straight ahead, "I'm going to give you the least professional advice I've ever given anyone, given that I'm having trouble making a reasoned judgment: maybe."
[...]
Lucina closed her eyes as she finally managed to lay down and breathe a moment. Even if this was only half her journey, she would be so excited to reunite with her father. She knew it was conceited and self-overestimating, but the princess couldn't help but to imagine the impressed smile on her father's face when he discovered that she had protected his entire halidom and also managed to rescue him. She would be hailed a true heroine, worthy of the bloodline that was her gift. Perhaps her father would even hand down the position of exalt. Although, she wasn't sure she was ready for that. Either way, she was thankful for the simplicity of their campaign, but one could assume that the disorder of mercenaries would make them very easy to dispatch once amply prepared. Thus the surprise attack, Lucina concluded. Well, regardless of what progress they had made, this part of the battle would be over soon.
"Legacy Shepherds, alarm!"
Lucina's eyes broke open as she bolted up. She began to throw her boots back on and stumbled out of her tent to see what was causing the commotion. As soon as she saw it, however, the princess shriveled in horror: a massive battalion of well-armored troops were bearing down on their tents, holding up torches and weapons that glinted in the inky dark. Nowi flew overhead and growled at them; she must have been the one who yelled, Lucina thought. Hurrying to address the situation, Lucina ducked back into her tent to retrieve her rapier and ran over to the remaining tents where the other Legacy Shepherds could been seen as outlines, slowly stirring. "Get up, everyone!" she shouted, "Enemies!"
An unknown entity in the gathered foes' ranks shouted, "Attack!"
Lucina's eyes narrowed in fear as a thunder of footsteps stirred up a cloud of sod that introduced the attackers. She raised her rapier and strode out in front of the tents, seeing a few of her comrades slowly emerge. The sapphire-haired lord held her ground as the aggressors drew near, then noticed a very peculiar detail she had previously ignored: the enemy bore Feroxi colors. Lucina was so stunned, she barely felt the impact when the first gauntlet struck her face, knocking her down and into darkness.
The enemy marched unimpeded into the camp as the Legacy Shepherds began to rise. Nowi shot breaths of flame, but had to tailor her attacks narrowly to avoid collateral damage, lessening the effectiveness of her strikes. Eventually, however, all of the Legacy Shepherds did leave their tents in time to meet their foe face-to-face, at which time the real danger began. Knights from the Feroxi army stepped aside to allow assassins and swordsmen to spring forth, catching a number of the Legacy Shepherds off guard, then following up with the lances of the knights themselves. The fighting quickly became brutal and unrefined, the Legacy Shepherds effectively fighting only with pure desperation.
And then it happened. Gregor made an ill-aimed swing of his blade that was deflected by a pair of swordsmen, opening him up to be impaled on the lance of an advancing knight. Naturally, Cordelia shrieked and darted down to him, shredding the nearby troops with sweeps of her own lance. The swell sellsword dropped to the ground, still bleeding. His wife tried to settle down and reach him, but only heard him sputter before going pale: "Is... bad."
The fighting continued in other sections of the camp. Ricken shouted angrily to assert his battlefield presence as he lobbed bolts of lightning and fire at the attackers, sending scores flying into the sky. Nowi watched over him carefully, raining fire down in circles around her husband as the waves of fighters continued pushing forward. Ricken was determined to make his impact, however, and continued to focus his fire and support his allies. He focused so hard, in fact, that he and his wife both missed the arrow that slipped through his arm and planted its head in his heart. The shocked mage coughed aloud only once before dropping: "That's... not good." Nowi scorched the area around her fallen betrothed.
Stahl and Sully worked in tandem, knocking enemies from one's sword to the other's lance and vice-versa, easily trouncing the less-experienced and unmounted units among the enemy. Stahl, ever vigilant, noticed the enemy cavalry preparing to make a charge at some of the Legacy Shepherds' own unmounted units and nodded to his companion to accept the charge before taking off. Fortunately for Severa and Brady, who were otherwise completely unaware, Stahl managed to curtail the advancing forces, overpowering the weakly armored cavalry with heavy and prohibitive swipes of his sword, he felled scores of the attacking horsemen as the two children hurried off.
Kellam had joined Sully and Stahl in the assumption of a vanguard position, using his heavy armor to protect the softer units behind him. It was a battle position he was used to undertaking, and he was grateful to have his wife, Miriel, supporting him with frequent surges of magic from behind. The Feroxi struck down and smashed against Kellam, but the general held on as with all the the strength of a reinforced steel gate, feeling proud as he knocked the opponents to their knees and dispatched them. He sweat as the onslaught seemed to have no end, however, and in taking a moment to catch his breath, missed a particularly fleet-footed myrmidon who dashed past him and ran Miriel through with his blade. Kellam gasped and tried to smash the myrmidon with his axe, but he was flanked by the remaining Feroxi and bowled over. "Inconceivable..." Miriel muttered into the dirt. Maribelle tried to take over the fallen mage's position as Gaius leapt from place to place across the camp, subduing stronger enemies one at a time. Sumia cast javelins down from the air as Frederick attempted to assume Kellam's guard.
It was at this time that enough of the Feroxi had infiltrated the camp that they began to burn the tents, increasing the panic and the fervor of battle. It was at that same time that Lucina finally managed to rouse herself and felt a chill run down her spine as she saw the fires rising to the sky and casting gold light onto the growing puddles and sprays of blood that coated the campground. Seeing the corpses of her comrades, she began to run into the battle and fight back against the incoming Feroxi, whose numbers seemed limitless in this conflict. "No," the Ylissean prinxess heard herself murmur as she caught glimpses of the struggling Legacy Shepherds between her attacks, "No, no, this can't be...!"
Maribelle took an arrow to the shoulder. Sumia's pegasus was hit by a burst of wind magic that sent her tumbling. Frederick's brow darkened as the Feroxi bore continuously down upon him. Gaius was kicked to the dirt by a Feroxi knight. Kellam struggled to pull himself up amidst being trampled. Nowi and Cordelia had tears streaming down their faces as they clawed viciously at the enemy, one literally and one metaphorically. Brady's shoulder was dislocated as he tried to block the swing of an axe. Severa received a cut along her leg. Nah was struck dead-center by a torpedo of flame. Laurent had his arm gashed by an axe. And Lucina was forced to hang her head and cry out in fear: "Retreat!"
The Legacy Shepherds made no arguments against that order, and the army of heroes, now three fewer in number, pushed back against the enemy just long enough to turn tail and flee from the flaming wreckage of their campsite. As they tread paths of ash-blackened boots and horizon-bending heat behind them, Lucina facilitated, directing the path, and so forcibly made herself the last one to leave, getting a full look at the celebratory cheers and whoops the Feroxi made as their enemy scurried away.
The bell rang in Lucina's mind: defeat.
[*]
The amethyst-haired boy sat in the stiff, old oaken chair and sipped rather crassly from the bowl, not because he had any particular disdain for his current company, but because he was sure he could be comfortable with her.
Cypress moved a lock of hair out of her face as she watched her friend lap up the remainder of his soup. Her face was dirty and more somber than dour, slightly uncharacteristic of her. The boy stared for a second and she shot him a tiny smile of amusement, which encouraged him to finish his food. "Somethin' up?" he said over his last mouthful.
"No, I'm just tired," the dark-haired girl deflected, "Busy, you know?"
She was busy, all right. Busier than she had ever been when they roamed the streets as a pair. Now he would go off to practice with or conduct business for the Doctor, and she would wait here, always having something to cook, clean, or fix. It was like being back at the orphanage, but only for her, a thought that had more than once created a festering feeling of discomfort in the pit of the boy's stomach. "Sorry," was all he could manage, "that sucks."
"It does," she still had the wherewithal to laugh at him, "but I manage."
"I wish I could help," the boy sighed, "but, you know..."
"I know," she nodded, "I'm sure your work is very important. It's fine. I can handle myself."
"I know you can," he assented, "I just wish I could help you, too."
"Forget it, Shorts," she commanded. The amethyst-haired boy smiled at the nickname and shut his mouth. He gazed about the room a few minutes more, paying attention, perhaps for the first time, to the sparse accommodations, the dining room seemingly stripped of all life and decoration for reverence to the bare essentials: one table, three chairs, a doorway, a window. All the furniture was simple finished wood, and the window offered no particularly interesting views (it simply showed a long plain that was well worn by grazing cattle, but even that was invisible as night had set in). In spite of himself, the boy's gaze turned to Cypress again, and he was surprised to find a blue-purple blemish on her fair skin that he'd failed to notice before.
"Hey," the boy squeaked against his better judgment, "Did something hit your face?"
She paused and touched around her cheeks, wincing when she applied pressure to the bruise, "No, I don't think so."
"But, there's a bruise on your face, right where your fingers are touching," the amethyst-haired boy contested.
She cursed under her breath, "Uh... Oh, right, I, uh, bumped up against the door when I was turning around to clean it."
The boy looked intensely, dissatisfied with this answer. "Cypress, tell me what happened."
"Let it drop, it's fine," she couldn't withhold her tears, though she bit them back.
"No, it's not," he reaffirmed, "What happened?"
Rubbing her arm and turning away, the girl sobbed, "I... I got hit. I was... working on the side, and my customer hit me."
"So contact the guard," the boy growled, "They'd love to kick some punk's ass for a cute girl."
She blushed and looked down at the table, "You don't get it, Shorts. The job I was working... I couldn't really talk to the guards."
That gave the boy pause and his eyes widened, "Wait... Do you...? Am I hearing what I think I am?"
"I... I have to make sure we have enough money to bring in food since he doesn't give it to us anymore," tears remained welled in the girl's eyes.
The boy stood and pushed his chair back, "But you don't...! No! No, you should never have to do that! No! Absolutely not! Who was this bastard?!"
"Don't get involved, kid," she pleaded, choking.
"I'm fucking getting involved," he retaliated, "What was his name?!"
The girl sobbed incoherently, apparently overcome by dread.
The boy grabbed her by the collar, "What's the bastard's name?!"
"Tal'bey," Cypress eventually blubbered, "He was called Tal'bey. Please don't do anything stupid, Shorts."
The amethyst-haired boy gritted his teeth, "My name is Nihilus! And I'm about to do something stupid, all right!"
Veins surged in the boy's head as he walked through the darkened streets, a trickle of rain beginning to wet the ground as he strode forward. His approach for this sort of a problem was simple, especially because it was already evening. Men like this Tal'bey had a reputation, they always did. Nobody ever hired a prostitute and hit her just once. As such, the amethyst-haired boy drifted around the streets until he found a corner where two young ladies stood, one looking slightly more enthusiastic than the other. "How ya doin', hun?" the more enthused one slurred.
"Fine," Nihilus grunted, "Looking for a guy named Tal'bey."
"Sorry, my boss only has girls," she replied.
"He's not a worker, he's a customer," the amethyst-haired boy elaborated.
"Then I don't know 'im," the woman finished, folding her arms.
"I heard o' him," her partner muttered.
"Anything you can do to help me find him?" Nihilus demanded.
She sneered at him, "Depends on who the fuck is askin'." The boy threw a bag of coins at the less enthusiastic girl. She opened it and smiled a little, "He likes to take girls to the Ozappa Inn, four streets down." Nihilus nodded at the girl and took off. "What," she shouted after him, "no tip? Asshole."
It felt like hours, walking up into the eroding, brown-walled inn and, eventually, stepping inside the filthy, roach-canvassed den of iniquity, but Nihilus worked up the stomach for it over time, his mind consumed with a fantasy, a fantasy of a moment that he knew was fast approaching when the door clicked open.
"Lay down," a petite girl flew onto the bed past the door (against which Nihilus was pressed) accompanied by the gruff voice of the man who could only be Tal'bey. As the door shut, Nihilus kicked the unsuspecting customer to the floor. The amethyst-haired youth looked up to the girl on the bed immediately and severely.
"Leave," he commanded, tossing her a bag of gold. She quickly gathered herself and complied.
"What the fuck?" the customer shouted, trying to pick himself up.
"You Tal'bey?" Nihilus demanded.
"Who the hell are you?" he groaned.
"Are you Tal'bey?!" Nihilus slammed the man's head into the floor.
"Yeah! Yes! I'm Tal'bey!" he moaned, "The hell do you want?!"
"I want you to suffer," Nihilus cracked his knuckles.
The screams of Tal'bey were heard in every room of the inn that evening, though none were brave enough to seek out their source. The room itself was a sight to behold, having already been a sty to begin with, it reeked so heavily of human blood and organs the following morning, the entire building was condemned shortly thereafter. What remained of Tal'bey was either stained on the walls or small enough to fit into a shoebox.
[*]
"Er, beg your pardon, master," he felt his arm being tugged. Nihilus's eyes fluttered and he sat up. Dahlia was looking over at him, "Forgive me for waking you, sir, but we're only about an hour from Lieben Keep."