Chapter 22
Anna swallowed hard, feeling the exhaustion pull down on her arms and legs like cinderblocks chained to each extremity. This man, the glint of his silver armor flashing in her face, along with a similar glare stabbing into her eyes from the curvature of an axe, all of that had appeared from nowhere with a few words. Now, the rose-haired swordmistress they had encountered mere moments ago was off to the side, scowling at her, and in front of her was that massive man. The woman had said his name, but Anna had already forgotten it, seized by the terror that gripped her upon being shoved aside by the enormous weight. And now here she was, holding up her sword, sure that it would be broken in half by a swing of that axe while her two sons were forced to watch in horror; there could be few worse fates. In that extra moment of contemplation, she realized, too, that this would mean she had failed in her goal: Robin was nowhere to be found. They would die separated from one another. That last note extirpated the tune of Anna's thought and she felt the final glows of strength and resilience leave her arms as the axe began to swing down. Unable to watch the curtain close on her play with so despairing a final act, the merchant shut her eyes. In a few seconds, she felt the hot, wet sensation of drops of blood flying onto her arms.
And it only took a second more to realize that it was not her own.
As the merchant opened her eyes, they were met with the matching gaze of her husband, looking back at her and gritting his teeth, his jaw stretched unnaturally and the tensing of his arms causing his eyes to twitch as he held something back. Anna looked past her husband's face and hair to see the axe embedded into his palms, blood seeping out onto the blade and sprayed onto the surrounding area, including his own robes and Anna's shirt sleeves. She ignored the damage to her clothing, however, and returned her gaze to her husband, who, with a wild look in his eyes, shouted a single word back at her: "Run!"
The merchant needed no further provocation and turned in place, sprinting in the opposite direction to put distance between her and her attacker. With a grunt of pain and effort, she heard her husband raise his arms and, once she was able to look back, saw him shove the axe, as well as its floored owner, back a few steps, the blood still dripping from his hands. Anna and the silver-armored general seemed to watch the scene with the same reverence: the undaunted Grandmaster stood, blood seeping from his hands, and stabbed his wife's assailant with his eyes. The general seemed less impressed, however: "The hell...?"
"You've chosen a very bad target," Robin cracked his neck, "that's my wife, and nobody's going to lay a hand on her until I'm dead and buried."
Argent smiled in wholesome manner, as if he'd just been told a knock-knock joke, "Two birds, then."
Robin shrugged and lowered his hand to retrieve his sword, immediately painting its grip red with his wounds. Anna raised an eyebrow as her mouth creased in concern.
The Silver Soldier scoffed, "You can't even hold that thing. You don't stand a chance, tactician. Go hide behind your books while the real troops do the fighting for you."
"I've been fighting alongside my men for the whole of my tenure," he replied without flinching, "I'm eager to see what's behind all that talk."
It was at this point that Anna extended her arm and opened her mouth to launch a protest, but another voice stole the sound away: "Argent." The tone was loud and commanding, but declarative rather than imperative. The parties on the ground searched left and right for its source, they even looked on high, but eventually the eyes settled on a figure stepping slowly out from the castle, exiting from the same area as had Robin. His hair was a lustrous amethyst and was combed smoothly, parted just a few inches from the center. His face was soft, almost feminine, by the sharpness of his eyes corrected any mistake; they were dark brown, such that they melted into his pupils, giving them the look of pure onyx when he was in shadow. Around this man's neck was a loose-fitting robe or cloak, navy blue in the daylight, its buckles unfastened to display a burgundy shirt beneath, as well as a pair of caramel-colored trousers, separated from the remained of the outfit by a black leather belt with gold trimmings and a silver buckle.
The man's sharp eyes looked over the Grandmaster before all else, despite the name he had called. He ran them up and down his foe's figure in an instant; if any among the group had blinked, they would have missed the gesture. Finally, he deigned to speak, "Stand down, Argent. Grandmaster Robin's not your target."
"But defeating him will render the enemy powerless, tactically," argued his general, a hint of frustration not well hidden.
The amethyst-haired man shook his head derisively, as if he were speaking to a child, "True, but it's not your call. You sought me for strategic assistance, and I'm giving it to you: don't engage this one."
The general folded his arms, "I think this is a mistake."
"When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it, good general," the man shrugged. He turned to face Robin, who was evidently confused, but still clutching his sword. "Forgive my associate, Grandmaster Robin... he's simply ruined this occasion for me. I'd hoped we could meet under better circumstances."
"Should I know you?" Robin stepped out of his fighting stance, glaring warily at the stranger.
"Not at all," the man smiled as if this was the best joke he'd ever told. "My name," he savored the moment, closing his eyes and reopening them at the tactician, "is Nihilus. I command these forces."
That broke Robin's concentration, and he cocked an eyebrow, "I thought General Argent led the Liebenese."
Nihilus chuckled, again, perhaps too hard, at this, "Indeed, he does, however, I am General Argent's tactician."
The Grandmaster nodded comprehensively, "I see... Well, I commend your skill. Your defense of this area was brilliant."
"As was your response," Nihilus grinned, "we should compare notes."
"Perhaps," even Robin cracked a smile, "but I have a battle to win first."
"Quite," Argent was staring back down at the tactician.
"Enough," the amethyst-haired man hissed at his lieutenant, "We'll finish this battle by annihilating the enemy forces, plain and simple."
"And do you think he'll just get out of the way?" Argent gestured toward Robin.
Nihilus smiled again, turning to his opponent, "What do you think? Will you let General Argent crush these Rosanniens? Our discourse can be much more pleasant that way."
"If I say no?" the tactician was growing more unsettled.
Nihilus snapped his fingers and, at once, Robin heard the sounds of struggling. A woman with rose-colored hair sat down three figures, all of them bound by lengths of rope and squirming: they were Anna, Steven, and Leo. In disbelief, Robin swiveled his head one hundred eighty degrees and saw that his family had been stolen out from under him, "How...?"
"Dahlia's a very quick girl, in more ways than one," the amethyst-haired man smiled less wholesomely, "Fail to accede to my demands and I'll tear into each pretty little neck, starting with your darling bride."
"Don't you dare, Robin!" his red-clad betrothed barked, ripping at her bindings, "I'd much rather die than give this creep anything he wants!"
"Chatty girl," the amethyst-haired man quipped before snapping his fingers again and revealing a thunder tome beneath his robe. Anna shuddered in a wave of painful shouts before falling limp.
"Bastard!" Robin began to step forward.
"Now, now," Nihilus waved his finger disapprovingly, "No sudden moves, or I might have to draw blood. I just want to talk, Grandmaster Robin. Don't waste your effort or family on Argent, here; he's beneath you."
That prompted a violent response on the general's face, "Beneath him?! This shell of a strategist can't hold a candle to my power!"
"Poor, misguided general," Nihilus lamented, "Many men have difficulty having their illusions shattered, but you can't fight Grandmaster Robin, simple as that. You'll be killed. When have I steered you wrong?"
The general marched over and bent his head to his tactician, then punched the amethyst-haired man in the stomach, knocking him down instantly. "...Men assume I know little because, unlike the body politic, I say little. I was convinced you were different from those men, Lord Nihilus, that you understood true wisdom is found in silence. I am saddened to say I misjudged you. I do not care for cowardly tactics such as taking hostages," declared the Silver Soldier, leaving his commander and untying his captives. When Dahlia tried to stop him, he threw her aside as well. "But above all, I do not care to be told to back down from a challenge," Argent continued, "Men like you and I, Grandmaster Robin, we do not find peace through parley and politic; we make peace by breaking down our foe, is that not so?"
"I've yet to have that strategy fail me," Robin nodded.
"Then, come, break yourself against me," Argent lifted his axe onto his shoulder. Robin shrugged, swallowed, and came running with his sword. Not surprisingly, the attack bounced off ineffectively. Argent took a swing with his axe, but the tactician dodged it with little difficulty. "So you see," Argent scoffed, "you cannot win."
"There's more than one person way to skin a cat," Robin returned, pulling out one of his tomes and flicking through the pages.
"None of that!" Argent shouted. Robin's attempt at spellcasting was interrupted by an axe flying toward his face.
"Damn," he muttered to himself. Seeing few other options, the Grandmaster jumped forward and tried a flurry of direct strikes again, all of which similarly failed to make so much as a scratch on the General's armor. Argent kneed his opponent, knocking him back, then prepared a sweep with his axe. He was interrupted by the whistling of an arrow. Familiar with this sound, however, Argent ducked beneath the shot and looked back for its source, finding it in Leo, who looked particularly miffed by his failure.
"Nettling little coward," growled the general, "this battle is one-on-one. Stay out of the way." Another arrow flew at his head, also narrowly dodged. This time, Argent minced no words and lobbed a throwing axe at the assassin, who scrambled out of the way.
"Better pay attention," Argent heard before his back exploded with heat, prompting an anguished grunt and another turn to find Steven waving a fire tome at him, "There's no way you can defeat us all at once."
"Is that so?" the general scoffed. He turned his back on Steven and marched toward his brother. Shocked by this development, Steven rifled nervously through his tome and flung another rocket of flame at the pile of silver armor, but the assault was ignored. General Argent continued to march toward Leo until he was on top of the young assassin, at which point he stole the young man's bow and snapped it like a twig. Afterward, he picked the assassin up, punched him in the face and slammed him into the dirt with a show of intense irritation.
"Leo!" Steven ran toward his brother, unaware that he would be clotheslined by the general's axe as the ran. He fell clutching the gash in his chest.
"You're a real pain to bring down, I'll give you that," Robin announced, standing.
The general smiled, "Such bravado, even now... You're a madman. I see now why Nihilus feared you; he despises such disorder. Men are not as logical as he chooses to believe, and that's what undoes him. You and I, however... we understand the human condition well."
"Right," Robin nodded, "sometimes things happen when you-" The Grandmaster threw up his hand and chanted, causing a pillar of flame to erupt beneath Argent.
"Smart bastard," the Silver Soldier grunted as he endured the flame, "but I think that's all you've got in your bag of tricks." He continued forward, denying the tactician time to prepare another spell. Instead, Robin drew his sword and readied himself to go on the defensive again. Argent began swinging, and Robin judged it necessary to dodge; even guarding against such crushing blows would do more harm to him than he could endure for long, and endure was very much what he needed to do. Of course, even leaping side to side to avoid the colossal swings, Robin was getting fatigued more quickly than his well-built adversary. After a dozen more swipes, the tactician was sweating and mistimed his move, his cloak catching and helping Argent pin him to the ground. "Your persistence is admirable, but futile. You have lost, Grandmaster Robin. Now, accept death and fall silent," the general swung his axe down one more time.
But again he was flung back. At the end of the disruption this time, a shaky hand clad in red clutched a jagged-looking blade. One of Anna's eyes was barely held open and it was staring directly at her husband as he returned the look. "I thought I was finished with all these nuisances," a more frustrated than truly trouble Argent spat. He trudged over toward Anna, who took the cue to use the last of her strength to fling the blade at her husband. He caught hit as it slid along the ground, past the Silver Soldier, and instantly understood its value.
"Stay back!" a newly confident Robin commanded, rising.
Argent didn't answer, but instead flung another axe at the Grandmaster. This time, however, Robin ran forward and swatted the projectile down with his new tool. Afterward, he raised the implement skyward and a strike of lightning bore into the Silver Soldier's armor. Now Argent was ready to respond. He turned yet again and began to rush forward as best he could, directing his might into his axe as he swung it forward. On this occasion, however, Robin held out his own blade and let their attacks connect. Blood spurted from Robin's wounds as trauma rippled through them afresh, but General Argent broke the deadlock: he was sent into a series of convulsions by a sudden shock. The Grandmaster didn't waste his advantage: he slashed several times in rapid succession along the general's armor, each time disorienting the opponent more and more until he fell to his knees. With the last of his breath, Robin drew out the Levin sword for a long swing and dragged it at chest height, cutting cleanly with cauterizing heat through the Silver Soldier's neck.
Robin, his sword, his wife, and the two new halves of the Silver Soldier, General Argent, fell to the ground.
[...]
"So..." Lucina rounded off as she looked to the faces of the other members of her meeting, "Long story short, we're at a crossroads. The presence from the mercenaries, whose origins are still murky, is minimal at present, but if we give them leeway now, they might overwhelm us with reinforcements at some point."
"But if we don't engage the Feroxi, they'll overrun Ylisse and drive us into the sea," Frederick surmised, frowning sternly at the map before them.
"Precisely," the sapphire-haired princess nodded.
"Why not just split us down the middle and go after both?" Donnel shrugged.
"We already had to flee the Feroxi," Lucina answered, "Going at them with half our number would be suicide."
"Times like this, I really wish we still had a little strategic advice," Ylisse's other princess sighed, face buried in her elbows, which were folded on the table.
"Hoping won't do us much good, I'm afraid," Lucina tried to redirect the conversation. She did not mention that she, too, had a hope: she was praying her father would reappear somehow and take this cup from her, but, of course, this was impossible. The entire point of this campaign had been the rescue of Exalt Chrom, but even weeks later he was no closer to being found as far as Lucina was aware. Hope, as a whole, was growing thin for everyone in Ylisse.
And so Lucina's heart sank when she heard a guardsman call, "Lady Lucina, you'll want to see this!"
The princess and her meeting's attendees all filed out of the tent to see column upon column of soldiers marching along the hills toward her camp. She cursed and reached for her sword, but when none of her companions did the same, she paused and looked back to the advancing troops: they wore onyx armor and sported a standard that was hard to make out in the distance, but slowly revealed itself as a stylized, snakelike "P." That insignia could belong to only one nation, though it made Lucina no more certain of their intent; Plegians were approaching.
Many of the Legacy Shepherds were already arming themselves, as well as the Ylissean soldiers who were camped not far from the command tent, but Lucina superseded them all and marched straight for the center of the Plegian column, doing her best to keep a straight face despite her mind reeling. She was already beginning to sweat; news of another attack would likely drive her to faint, the but regardless of her nerves and corresponding shakiness, the princess stopped out in front of the black-clad army as they came to a halt. From within their ranks, a white-haired man with a peculiar and unsettling grin approached Lucina. "State your name and your business, sir," Lucina tried to sound commanding without being too forceful or aggressive.
The man kept on grinning, "You don't recognize me? I guess the last time you'd have seen me, you'd have been much younger, so it makes sense. My name is Henry, King of Plegia! And this is my special little princess, Noire!"
Lucina hadn't even taken note of the thin, pale, unassuming girl who was saddled to the king's side. She, too, had white hair, perhaps a proof of her lineage. Frankly, though, Lucina didn't want to look at the girl for too long; it seemed even a simple stare might break her, frail as she was. "And what are you doing here?" the princess demanded, slightly reassured by the fact that the Plegian king had his daughter with him.
"I heard East Ferox made a move on you guys, those nasty cheaters," he chuckled, amusing himself.
"Yes...?" Lucina begged for more explanation.
"Well, Plegia's here to take the fight back to 'em!" King Henry's smile seemed to widen.
"Really?" Lucina stumbled back, "I mean, er... That is... Uh, King Henry, not that I protest, but why have you chosen to put yourself in harm's way like this?"
"Something tells me our heads'll be next. And while the idea of being able to look at myself from the opposite end of a guillotine makes me happier than a pig in slop," Lucina winced at the thought, "Most of my citizenry don't feel the same, and I have to do right by them. Well, that, and I got a nicely worded letter from my dear wife."
"Your wife?" the sapphire-haired girl shrugged.
"Sure, Tharja," Henry clued her in, "She told me you guys patched her up, gave her some help, and she was grateful. That was lucky; Tharja never feels indebted to anyone!"
"So..." the princess sighed, "Does this mean you have a plan?"
"I have instructions from Tharja," he nodded, "You take the rest of your Shepherds out to Tortoise Peninsula, that's where you'll find the mercenaries' base. Once you kick them out, you should be able to find your dad, or, at least learn where he is."
"What about you?" she continued.
"I'll take my nice, big army, join it with what's left of yours, and go give those Eastern Feroxi a big ol' kick in the teeth. It'll be fun to spill a little fresh blood," the king of Plegian flashed another broad grin.
Frederick interjected in the negotiations, "Pardon me, but I can't abide you simply taking our forces out of Lady Lucina's control."
This was the first time Henry came close to a frown, "It's not like that. I'll keep them safe, I just need the extra manpower. Think of it more like a loan: as soon as Lucina comes back with Chrom, the entire offense, his troops and mine, are all at his disposal. Pretty good deal in the long run."
"We don't have much in the way of options," Lucina lobbied to Frederick.
The great knight sighed, "We'll waste no time in finding Exalt Chrom."
"Naturally," Lucina agreed, "I want to save him every bit as much as you, Frederick."
"And you won't simply waste Ylissean lives?" Frederick glared lowly at Henry.
"All your troops are beat-up anyway," he shrugged flippantly, "Sending my units first is just the logical maneuver."
"Let's make this a quick rescue," Frederick resigned.
Lucina nodded and held her chest, feeling ready to burst with excitement or cry, perhaps both. All at once, she had been given another chance, and she would not waste it: she would find her father and save her country, no doubt about it.
[...]
Dahlia rose to her feet after stumbling for a second, putting her hand to her head and feeling her disheveled rose-colored hair. She looked about, slowly re-absorbing the details of the situation, and she was quickly reminded of her master. As soon as the headaches stopped, the swordswoman took several shaky steps toward the spot where she had last seen her superior. Nihilus was already standing again, though not without difficulty. He did not acknowledge Dahlia as she drifted close. "Well," Dahlia sighed aloud to announce herself, "things might not have gone precisely according to plan, but we do have Grandmaster Robin exactly where we need him." She stared at the collapsed bodies of Robin and the now-beheaded Argent.
"It's impossible," Nihilus muttered, not audibly in reply.
"I wouldn't be too disappointed, sir. Argent was bold, but a fool. He got exactly the end he desired," Dahlia supposed.
"No, but he..." the amethyst-haired man grasped at the air, appearing to watch something trickle between his fingers, "It wasn't..."
His subordinate took note of his disturbance: "I encourage you to forget this quickly, milord. Argent was a simpleton who disobeyed orders."
Nihilus didn't respond and stared at the dirt beneath him a moment more until he and his lieutenant's ears picked up the sound of flapping wings. An ebon bird descended and perched itself on the shoulder of Argent's armor, staring contemplatively at its former master. Nihilus, in turn, watched it closely, both of their decisions evidently riding on this moment. Dahlia glanced up from the scene and found a hawk also circling above their heads. She grimaced: Argent had always been obsessed with these damn fowl, and they followed him to every occasion, even death, apparently. After a few moments of careful consideration, the onyx bird hopped down to the newly appended portion of his master's neck and, upon inspection, began to peck at the wound and tear off the flesh.
Nihilus turned his head, waving his hand at Dahlia to indicate revilement. He took one final glance at the corpse as he trudged away from the deteriorating, blood-soaked battlefield and felt a cold run through his body, making him shiver involuntarily. The amethyst-haired man closed his eyes to silence his nerves and continued forward. He paused again, however, eyes registering a new thought, and withdrew a scrap of paper from his cloak along with a quill. He scratched something onto the parchment quickly and walked back over to the mess of bodies, planting it beneath the fallen Grandmaster, and then returned while Dahlia watched in abject confusion. "What was that?" the Rose Blade demanded as they walked.
"A preclusion," her superior answered curtly, "Come. We have to proceed with the plan."
Dahlia paused and watched Nihilus walked by her, frowning so he could see her protest, then resigned and followed him regardless.
[*]
The boy clenched his fist and felt his teeth grind together. A fight was about to happen. There was no way to avoid the coming conflict, not that he wanted to, at any rate. The moment wasn't far off, even though he would be completely in control of what triggered it. He could wait outside in the slow drizzle for hours and nothing would come of it, but as soon as he opened that door, it would all come rushing to a close. And he had decided that, regardless the result, that was what he wanted. As such, he turned the knob and opened the thin wood door. As the boy stepped inside, he saw a shadow cast on the wall by low, amber candlelight: A girl pressed against the wall. A man held her there. As if there were any mystery to the situation. "Doctor," the boy stated, suggesting nothing further needed to be said.
"Young Nihilus," came the reply, "You think I didn't hear about your actions this evening?"
"No, I assumed you would."
"That's a good assumption. But you must know this was against our agreement."
"I'm in the mood to renegotiate."
"I wasn't offering."
Nihilus pointed his finger and saw its shadow play upon the wall as he looked into his mentor's eyes, "You put her in a position to get hurt."
The Doctor shrugged, "And so I'm liable? Congrats, young attorney, you won the lawsuit. You think I didn't know that? I was testing her, just like I was testing you. You must have known."
"She didn't need to be tested. I'm the one you cared about, aren't I?"
"Insightful. But I don't allow for liabilities. I would have killed her if she couldn't do what was necessary. But she proved strong, resolute, willing to do anything to pull her own weight, to keep you two safe... Unlike you. It's a shame you're so indifferent to her fate; she obviously cares a lot about you."
The young man almost leapt there, but held his fists down and swallowed his rage to maintain his composure, "I don't abide people I care about getting hurt."
"Which is why you're a failure. You know what happens in the real world when you turn around and pull your friend off of that cliff? You get a knife stuck in your back and you both plummet off the side. And three days later, someone loots your corpses."
"I think I'm in a much better position to see what's in my future than you."
"Mm. One little talent and you think you're so much better than everyone else. Let me give you another dose of reality: you're nothing. You're a kid with a hot head and a weapon in your hand. You have no sense of purpose, no direction for your stupid, impetuous, childish anger and desire to lash out against the world. You're a toddler shaking your fists and crying when you could be standing up and walking for yourself."
"These admonitions aren't going to change my mind."
"At least you always had that much. And you're bold, too: do you really expect to be able to kill me?"
"I can't do anything worse than try."
"On that we can agree," the Doctor nodded, flexing his wrists, "You're an ungrateful lad, you know. I saved you from abandonment and gave you the tools to survive."
"You saw an opportunity and took it," the boy answered, "I've seen the clues, I'd have to be blind to have missed them. How long were you tracking me?"
A smile spread across the Doctor's lips, but one that did not inspire any sort of felicity, "Quite some time. You threw me for a lot of loops, and even when I found you, I had to play it cool, else I would have lost my shot for good. Years and years... more than a decade spent arranging all the pieces... only for you to decide you're too good for me... you miserable street rat."
"Glad we cleared the air," Nihilus added, frowning, "So, who sent you?"
The Doctor chuckled an exceedingly mirthless laugh, "Why in Naga's name would I tell you that? Why don't we say my search was self-motivated? After all, who wouldn't want to find the lost son of Validar? A tool to master the world is a treasure worth searching the whole breadth of said world."
"Validar?" the boy cocked an eyebrow, "My father's name was Al'dyr."
That, for once, gave the Doctor pause, "Al'dyr? That name has come up before... But I assumed that to be a dead lead, for obvious reasons. Is it true, then...?"
Now Nihilus smirked, "So, does this mean you chased the wrong target all this time? Who did you think I was?"
"You're Plegian, are you not? The markings on your skin, it's unquestionable."
Nihilus rolled up one of his sleeves to examine the markings of his birth, his only inheritance and felt a bizarre sense of relief on being reminded of the harassment he once faced for these markings, but that was in another life. "My mother was Plegian. My father was born in the Bhu'dey Dynasty."
The Doctor tried to manage a smile, "So, you deceived me all along."
"Only the deception of omission," he shrugged.
"How many clairvoyant strategists do they have in Plegia?" the Doctor asked with amusement.
"Evidently, at least two," Nihilus folded his arms, "And you latched on to the wrong one. What a laugh."
"Well," the Doctor dusted himself off, "I need to begin a new investigation, so let's get this over with."
Nihilus prepared to respond, but his mentor was already upon him, and the boy barely intercepted a knife aimed at his throat by holding up the Doctor's arm. A knee to the boy's stomach followed, but he endured it and pushed away to create distance for a punch to his foe's face. The Doctor's head shifted out of its range easily and he responded by raking his blade along Nihilus's lower body. The boy felt the wound flash in a hot streak across his chest, like a scalding pan dropped on his stomach, but he fought through the urge to crumple and redoubled his stance, kicking his mentor in the shin.
"Good," the Doctor grinned angrily, "so you did learn something." He threw a left hook a Nihilus's head, knocking the boy back and taking aim with his knife. Nihilus ducked beneath the swipe, still coming to his senses. The Doctor followed up and swung the blade in the other direction, but the boy grabbed his foe's wrist and attempted to twist it behind its owner's back. The Doctor played along with the motion, then flipped his opponent up, letting the boy roll down his back. As the amethyst-haired boy crumpled to the floor, the Doctor took another stab, but the boy kicked his legs out from underneath him. They both rose to their feet slowly, and the Doctor charged forward again, seeming to draw on an endless well of stamina. This time, however, Nihilus felt his vision become fuzzy for a moment, and then intensely, almost painfully sharp: he watched the Doctor stab at his chest, just above his right pectoral, and then suddenly saw the same move occurring a second later, but, of course, he knew this was not simply a vision. Nihilus clapped his hands around the Doctor's arm in what seemed an impossibly precise anticipation of the maneuver, as if he'd already been holding them out before the attack. With his position of power, Nihilus tossed his foe to the ground by throwing all of his weight toward the wall. He stumbled a bit, but the Doctor fell hard on his back. The Doctor attempted the same tactic of kicking out the boy's legs, but he leapt above the kick despite staring the Doctor in the eye. Changing strategies, the Doctor dove forward and tackled the youth, who spun around and sent his assailant flying in the other direction.
The man got back on his feet and came at the amethyst-haired boy once more, driving his knife at the boy in every conceivable direction, but the boy effortlessly shifted his head and shrugged off every strike. "It shouldn't be possible," the Doctor panted, "if you're not the one, then... you shouldn't be able..."
"Clearly, a lot of things about my life shouldn't be," Nihilus retorted, jabbing the Doctor in the stomach, "I live only by a series of strange coincidences, but life isn't made up of what should and should not be, it's only what really happens." The boy struck the Doctor again and knocked the tall man to his knees, then kicked his fatigued adversary in the face, knocking him over, "Some live, some die, that's the catalyst of life. And on the other end, some of us come out stronger, better. In point of fact, how little my probability of being here, now to fight you, how much that 'shouldn't' be the case... That's exactly why you should be terrified of me right now. It means I've tasted despair and impossible odds and am greater for it."
"Philosophizing doesn't make you the victor!" the Doctor grunted.
"No, this does," Nihilus jumped forward quickly, landing on his mentor's wrist and breaking it, taking the knife from his briefly slackened grip in the same motion. The Doctor reached for Nihilus's boot, but the boy jumped out of the way once more, this time onto the Doctor's stomach, stomping all the wind from his body. Seizing upon the Doctor's paralysis, Nihilus turned the knife in his hand and drove it into the Doctor's neck. One, two, three, four, five, he drew a thick line and a small spray of blood with every stab, slowly coating his hand and sleeve with the Doctor's life, unwittingly shouting each time he struck until he wore himself out and collapsed forward.
The amethyst-haired boy sucked in air for a minute or longer, time seemed of little consequence at this precise moment, before he could lift his head and see the Doctor, a concave shape dug into his throat and blood seeping from it. Absorbing this realization, taking in the gravity of his feet, the boy knelt, panting for a few moments longer before standing up shakily. As his bearings returned to him, he turned to the back of the room where the dark-haired girl remained frozen, her eyes following him, but distant. He guessed she hadn't moved during the whole affair. "Cypress," his lips formed a loose smile. She didn't reciprocate the gesture and, instead, stared warily at the blood-soaked implement in his hand. Nihilus, realizing this, glanced down at it, too, and dropped it in short order. The knife had weighed a ton, but it only made a few metallic "tinks" as it hit the floor. He took a step toward his friend, but her eyes widened and she stepped back from him, holding her arms to her chest, her face clearly suppressing a scream. "Cypress," the boy begged, "it's over now. We're free. We can live for ourselves. I can make money for us, and... And you'll never have to do anything you don't want to and..." Nihilus took another step toward her, "Come on."
She couldn't contain herself anymore: Cypress let out a shrill scream and darted past her friend into the darkness of the rainy night, bumping his shoulder as she skittered away, her footsteps making loud, splashy echoes as she tore down the street. Nihilus remained still, staring at where his friend had stood, not bothering to turn around. He listened quietly to the rain as it fell, and to the sounds of people lingering about in the wet street, horses whinnying and stomping loudly in puddles, rushed footsteps hastening toward home, dogs barking in the distance, and the noise faded into a deep numbness, a catatonia in which the amethyst-haired boy found himself. Not paying attention to anything but the sounds of the rain, he sunk to the floor, lowering his head until he was laid out across the hard, cold wood, and closed his eyes.
He would remain there for the evening, with the door open, alone, save the corpse beside him.
[*]
Sylvia held her staff delicately as her staff sewed up the last of the line cut across her older brother, watching the skin be mended with great relief. As Steven's eyes fluttered open, he seemed to have trouble perceiving her, as he squinted multiple times as though he were trying to discern the sun's position. "Sylvia?" the silver-haired man managed through a choking voice.
"Glad you could join us, Steve," she smiled back pleasantly.
"Oh, Sylvie!" her brother leapt to his feet immediately and, without warning, scooped her off of her feet and spun her around in a circle, "Thank goodness! Big brother was so worried about you!"
Sylvia blushed and felt her brother start a bit, then slowly let her down, clutching at his abdomen, "No need to make it weird, Steve. I was with daddy the whole time. Well, almost the whole time."
Steven wiped his eye with his index finger and cleared his throat, "Ahem, er, right. Your big brother is very pleased to see you unharmed, Sylvia."
"Likewise, you goof," she buried her head in his chest for a moment. As the pair separated, their heads turned opposite directions, facing down to their mother and father, respectively, and both rushed to the lost parent's side. Likewise, each parent was slowly rising, shaking their heads and shielding their eyes from the sudden burst of sunlight.
Morgan and Leo, too, embraced on the other side of their family, both doing their best to hide their tears from one another. Morgan complimented her brother on his new scarf and he, in turn professed an awkward and fumbling fondness for her new hairdo, which elicited a laugh from his baby sister, for which the assassin was grateful.
Inigo, Virion, Gerome, and Cherche had gathered, running their troops through the castle to clear it and round up those Liebenese who had surrendered, and they now knew well enough, at least at Cherche's entreaty, to stay away from the recovering family.
Robin got to his feet with support from both of his sons, who were both fiercely competitive about helping him up more effectively. prompting a laugh from the old Grandmaster. The man stroked his beard fondly as he took a moment to bask in his pride, looking at his two boys, seeing the calculation and intelligence in both their eyes and the strength in their musculature, he knew straight away that no harm could have come to either of them. How could it? They were his sons, and therefore invincible masters of the battlefield. "Helluva fight, pops," Leo remarked simply as he stretched his arms.
"I was equally impressed with your performance," Robin nodded, "both of you."
"I'm the only one that really got a good hit in, though," Leo added.
"That little shot that he shook off like a ball of tinfoil? Honestly, Leo," Steven shook his head.
"Like your little sparkler changed anything!" his brother barked back, "Anyway, it was my strategy, so there!"
"What?!" Steven gritted his teeth, "Are you mad? It was mine!"
"Boys!" their father said more definitely, "Both of you."
"Yes, father," they rubbed their necks, feeling a hot wave of embarrassment run over them for squabbling in their father's presence, as had always been the case. Robin put an arm around both of their backs and hugged them to his sides. Neither wanted to be the first to succumb, but both brothers closed their eyes and leaned into the embrace, more contented than they could ever admit to be back beside their father.
Anna's ascent was a bit slower, as she rose first into a sitting position so that Sylvia could run her hands all about her, fitfully diagnosing any cut or scrape as a sign of certain, critical injury. Eventually, the brunette was halted by a hand placed on her shoulder by her younger sister. Morgan only stared mistily into her mother's eyes and croaked, "It's, uh, really good to see you're okay, mom."
The redheaded merchant staggered to her feet and bear-hugged both of her daughters, squeezing them and their faces together in the process, "I'm glad you're both safe, too, girls. Mom was so worried about both of you." She kissed their heads a few times each.
"No worries, daddy took great care of us," Sylvia relayed with a giant, white grin.
"Yeah... 'great,'" Morgan said less enthusiastically.
"Morgan, please not now, honey," Anna shook her head slightly.
"Sorry, mom," her face was still stained with tears, "I missed you."
Anna kissed her head again, "I missed you too. I love both of you girls so much." The trio of females wiped away the last of their tears together before breaking up the embrace, smiling and laughing. As they parted, however, there was only one thing left in Anna's field of view. And the same was true of Robin.
The parents stepped away from their children, who all also came together, but further away, and intermingled and shared relief at one another's survival as they watched the meeting develop. Both Robin and Anna met one another at a midpoint between where they had started and the two stood opposite each other for several seconds without saying anything, as if they were each waking up for the first time. Anna came forward first, and promptly gave her husband a stiff slap across the face, "What the hell were you thinking, leaving our house without telling me?! I searched entire countries worried sick because I was growing increasingly certain that you'd gone and gotten yourself killed, you stupid... stupid... asshole!" Her composure broke and she collapsed into tears, leaning her head and arms into his shoulder.
"I'm so sorry," was all he could say, "I knew Morgan was down there, and you were out that way, too. I don't know how I found her but missed you, all I can say is... I... just... oh, thank the gods you're alive, Anna. I don't think I could have gone on without you."
"Likewise," she stared at him with wet, glassy eyes, "You dumb, dumb bastard."
Despite a brief protest, Virion broke rank and greeted the family, "Well, this is a fabulous denouement to our little tale of separation and tribulation, wouldn't you say?"
"Yeah, now that Lieben and General Argent are down for the count, I think we've got things about wrapped up," Sylvia supposed. Morgan wore an uncertain frown.
Robin mimicked her in his tone of voice, "I don't think it's quite that simple; Argent was involved in the attack on Ylisse, no doubt, but the Liebenese weren't its orchestrarors. If those who were with me at the time will recall, there was something wrong with the people in that town near Valm Harbor."
"And there was that man I spoke to, Nihilus," Morgan added.
Her father nodded, "I believe I met him today. Argent retaliated against him, but he was definitely the one pulling the Silver Soldier's strings."
"Oh no," Anna shook her head, "We're done here. No more war for my husband. You're coming home with me this instant and helping me manage the shop like you promised you would."
"A-Anna," he stammered, unable to properly disagree, "it's not that I want to, it's... well..."
"I don't want to hear it," she began dragging him away by the hand, "Whoever attacked Ylisse can rot and burn, but they are not gonna take my husband away from me."
"But Ylisse could still be in danger, and, by that token, so could your home... Our home," Morgan countered, "and, if that's the case... Dad's our best hope of putting this business to bed."
Robin and Anna both looked at their daughter with scrutiny, Robin with a partially opened mouth, then they exchanged looks at one another until Anna sighed with great lamentation. "Fine, we'll figure this thing out and end it, but I refuse to leave your side until it's over."
"To that much, I can happily acquiesce," Robin held his wife and kissed her.
"But, where do we go from here?" Steven was stroking his chin, "Do we have any other leads?"
"As a matter of fact," Robin noted as his and his wife's lips parted, "There is one thing." In his hands, Robin held a scrap of paper which displayed a crude map of the eastern continent with marks specifically indicating the capitals of Regna Ferox and Ylisse. Of particular interest were a pair of notes written hastily on the page: arrows, one leading to Regna Ferox's capital that read "5 days" and one leading to Ylisstol that read "3 days."
[AN]: Sorry for the gap between updates, folks, I was away on vacation and got a little lazy. I hope this extra-long chapter makes up for it to some degree. Also, keep an eye out for some special one-offs that may be coming out this week. Thanks for reading!