Chapter 17: Truth Behind the Lies

Chaos, utter chaos.

They were once again in the conference room of Bern castle, minus Zedal, whose remains had just been found by a scout flying off in the direction the Berserk had last been seen. They'd only managed to find scraps of clothing and a few bone, indicating beyond all doubt the former Wyvern General was quite dead.

"Is this some sort of a trick?" mused one of the other three Wyvern Generals, Olaf, looking both accusatively and condescendingly at Khyron. "Did you bring the Berserk here?"

"What foolishness is that? I fought against it in the last war and fought it now! Why would I be in league with it! You—"

Wayland stopped him. "It's obvious the Berserk is our true foe here, not each other. Why do you think it attacked us?"

"The legends of that thing say it feeds off war," mused Olaf again. "Perhaps it wished to spark another one?"

"Or it's being controlled by an enemy," said Khyron. "Either way, we need more information. Do either of you Wyvern Generals know much more about this artifact than I do?"

They shook their heads.

"Lord Khyron," squeaked Serapino, "As a representative of the Church…I have to say, maybe Archbishop Gosterro might know?"

"That's a good idea," said Wayland thoughtfully. "We have a crystal ball linking us to him at this moment. Khyron, why don't you see if you can contact him?"

Khyron quickly took out his crystal ball and summoned the Archbishop's image.

"What is it?" grumbled Gosterro—he had apparently been asleep. "Have you any idea what hour it is?"

"Zedal is dead!" Khyron was nearly screaming. "DEAD!"

Gosterro went pale. "What the hell do you mean? What happened?"

"The Armor of the Berserk! Someone wearing it arrived and murdered him! It took him away before I could destroy it. When we followed it, there was nothing left of Zedal except some blood and stained pieces of armor!"

Khyron knew the expression which floated across Gosterro's face was of displeasure, but there was also something behind it which made him very suspicious. He would not find out what it was until later, though. For now, all Gosterro had for him was this:

"If the Armor of the Berserk has reappeared, even after the Rebels have been defeated, it is dire news for all of us. At least the Rebels could have controlled it. But I suspect no-one is now. And left to its own devices, the thing could threaten more than a single country."

"Well, isn't that a surprise," said Khyron sarcastically. "That's why I called on you, Archbishop. Neither the remaining Wyvern Generals nor I know much more about the Armor of the Berserk itself than what we've seen of it in battle, and even that information seems outdated. We bested it twice before by waiting for it to consume its host, but this time it escaped with its quarry before that could happen. It seems to have grown smarter, or at least able to control its appetite. We were hoping the Church would be of more help."

"We are indeed. I have been aware of the Armor's resurgence for some time, and have already laid several traps for it. It will likely return to the Western Isles, where my monks have set up two separate ambushes. It hates Light magic, so we are almost certain to succeed. In the event of failure, however, even more desperate measures may be required."

"Such as?"

Gosterro sighed. "You don't need to know everything about the Armor's history, but it is an artifact crafted from magic many thousands of years old, dating long before the Scouring. To destroy it completely will require the use of powerful magic. Or, to be blunt, the Divine Weapons themselves."

"The Divine Weapons?" Khyron couldn't keep his jaw from dropping. "That Armor is that dangerous?"

"Yes! I hope my monks will be able to seal it away, but if they can't, destroying it completely is our only option. That's where you come in, Khyron, along with the Wyvern Generals. The Shrine of Seals is located in Bern. It keeps the power of those weapons locked away, except for times of dire need…like now. You'll have to go there and convince the Shrine's keeper that the weapons must be released."

"The Shrine's keeper?" Khyron looked at Olaf. "That's…"

"Bramimond," he said. "The Lord of Darkness yet lives, but he's not easily roused, either. Only another of the Eight Heroes might be able to convince him."

"I might be able to help with that," came a new voice from the back of the room.

Everyone's head turned to see something very strange at the door to the chamber.

It was the Bard, Levin. The fact that he was here at all was odd enough—though everyone had appreciated the song he'd played for them at the meeting, before the Berserk had attacked, no-one had expected him to stick around. There was also the matter of how he'd got in; the guards had not been instructed to allow him into the meeting and the door was locked. How he'd apparently managed to put the guards outside to sleep (judging by their prone forms in the hallway behind him) and burn through the lock were mysteries…though perhaps answerable by the staff and mysterious book held in his hands. How he knew how to use them, however, was also another mystery.

"What are you doing here?" gaped Khyron, his Bard's strange equipment not yet registering. "This is no time for music, bard! The future of Elibe may hang in the balance!"

"Indeed it does," came the old fellow's reply, "which is why I believe I need to shake off this charade. You wish to speak to Bramimond, don't you? I can take you to him."

"How? By singing us a song?" Khyron was about to yell at him to leave, immediately, but then his eyes fell upon the strange book in the Bard's right hand. He couldn't make out its entire title, but he could feel the raw magical energy emanating from it, and could see that the first symbol on its cover would be approximated by the human syllable For. "Wait, is that…it can't be…"

Levin sighed. "I suppose it's time to admit it. As much as I like the name Levin, it was not the one my parents gave me. That would be…Athos."

Olaf snorted. "Come now, enough of the japes. They might have been amusing earlier in the day, but at this moment—"

He was cut off when the tome in "Levin's" hand began to glow. The old Bard raised his staff towards one of the room's windows, and several strange orbs of red light floated around it for a moment before coalescing into a single sphere, somewhat similar to that of an Elfire spell, but much brighter, as bright as the Sun—Khyron, Olaf, and everyone else in the room had to shut their eyes for a moment. Then the orb shot away, through the window (not crashing through it but completely vaporizing it) and far into the sky beyond. When it seemed to reach the same level as the clouds, it then exploded as an Elfire spell would—except that this explosion was massive, creating a great BOOM strong enough to shake the foundations of Castle Bern itself and send everyone off their feet and lighting up most of the sky as bright as daytime.

The entire room was dead silent, at least before the Bard—well, Archsage, actually, they couldn't deny that—spoke up:

"That will dispel any doubts, I hope."

It certainly did. Olaf was the first one to speak up—after he had recovered both from the shock of the explosion and the shock of meeting what was literally a Living Legend—a great hero from over half a millennium ago—standing in front of him.

"Very well," he began, "very well, let us for a moment assume you truly are the Archsage Athos. Then answer me this: What in the world are you doing here, and how are you still alive? It's been five hundred years since you were said to have retired to the wasteland of Nabata."

"The Divine Weapons affected their wielders in many ways," replied Athos. "All eight of us gave and gained for our power, and in my case…my body changed, setting me apart from my fellow man. Hunger and the need for sleep no longer touch me, nor does the passage of time. I have lived like this for over seven hundred years, and very happily too. The desert of Nabata holds enough mystery to satisfy me for another ten thousand…"

He furrowed his brow. "And yet I came to realize that I could not simply hide myself away there, that there was a world beyond the desert, a world to which I held obligations. In my sanctuary in Nabata, there is an…oracle. A seer, of sorts. She can see into the future…not clearly, but enough to provide those who ask with…impressions, of what is to come. And she had a vision of great calamity. She sensed something terrible was rising in the Western Isles, something only the power of the Divine itself could stop. So I took it upon myself to journey forth and do what I could.

"I realized, however, that it would be unwise to simply make my presence known all across the rest of Elibe. It would give my enemy advance warning of my coming, and who knows what disruption the arrival of a "Legend" might cause to your societies? Thus, I disguised myself as a Bard in order to blend in with the common people and learn what I could without arousing any suspicion. I was able to meet Serapino and Khyron, and all of you, in fact. And I was able to figure out what we must do to stop this chaos. I apologize—sincerely—to all of you for the deception, but it worked out for the best. The Armor does not know I'm here, which means we still have a chance to do what must be done."

"And what must be done, O Venerable Archsage?" Khyron said this without a hint of sarcasm, but with more than a bit of anger. He wasn't pleased at having been played a fool (again), but at this point in his life he could see the wisdom of Athos' plan and his first and foremost thoughts were of stopping the Berserk. A confrontation with the Archsage could come later.

"As I said, it will require the power of the Divine Weapons to stop the Armor of the Berserk. But as you saw, the power of Forblaze is sealed. We must first go to Bramimond and release those seals. Then, we will visit the Tower of the Saint and pick up her Aureola tome."

From within his crystal ball, the shaken Gosterro nodded. "You will be allowed to do so, Archsage. You have the support of the Church in this, as in all things."

"Excellent. I will then take Khyron to the Western Isles, where we will find the third weapon we need—Armads, the axe of Durbans—and a man to wield it. Then, the three of us—Khyron wielding my Forblaze, the man of the Isles with Armads, and myself with Aureola—will confront the Armor and destroy both it and its wearer."

"Just the three of you?" For the first time Wyvern General Gilbert spoke up. "Surely a looming catastrophe of this magnitude deserves a larger response. Olaf and I would be more than willing to accompany you, along with a contingent of our best men."

"No. Only Khyron should accompany me."

"Why? Nothing less than an entire army would be sufficient to deal with the Berserk."

"Giving it an army would be exactly what it wants. It feeds on death, and by the time we reach it I'm sure it will finally have received enough to sustain itself indefinitely. Bringing along any more men than we have to would only lead them to their deaths and give the Armor more souls to sustain itself. No, only wielders of the Divine Weapons should face Kain and the Armor."

"Then why Khyron?" Olaf frowned. "Why not me? I can use the Forblaze as well, I'm sure. I've studied enough that its workings are no mystery to me."

"I've fought beside Khyron and know him to be worthy of my Forblaze." Athos frowned slightly. "I don't mean to insult you or your country, but we've not much time and I have to speak frankly. I don't know you as well as I do Khyron and I haven't seen you in battle as I have him. I know him to be worthy of my Forblaze. Would that I'd have gotten to know you equally well, but there's no time for that at this point."

Wayland shrugged. "I'd have liked to accompany you, Khyron, but if the Archsage wants a small a team as possible, I can see the wisdom in that. I'll stay here with the remaining two Wyvern Generals and try to keep control of the situation. How's that sound?"

"Wyvern Generals of Bern, tend to your wounded and maintain control of the situation here. Khyron and I will see Bramimond. Now!"

The Archsage would brook no more discussion. He raised his staff in the air, and before anyone could stop him, he and Khyron disappeared in a flash of white light.

-x-

Darkness. Everything around him was darkness.

"Ah! What is this?" Khyron desperately groped around himself as he got to his feet. He could feel his Elfire tome in his hands, but couldn't see it—everything was too dark.

"The Shrine of Seals, in Bern," replied Athos—his voice came from somewhere to Khyron's right. "This is where Bramimond rests. Like me, he no longer ages or fears death."

"And only he can undo the seals on those holy weapons we need," Khyron muttered. "Well, there's no reason to spend any more time here than we have to. Is there some other test we have to complete, or will the Lord of Darkness just show up when he sees fit?"

"The latter," said Athos with a hint of amusement. "I'm glad you're taking this so well, Khyron. One would have expected you to have taken these revelations a bit less…stoically."

Khyron snorted. "Well, I'm not overly fond of deceit or trickery of any sort, and I'm insulted you pretended to be nothing but a travelling musician for all this time without just telling me who you really were. You are, however, the Archsage—the most revered practitioner of my school of magic who has ever lived. If you thought a ploy was necessary, Anima-Father, then I will accede to your judgment."

Athos was quite genuinely touched—he knew very well that Khyron was not normally the sort of man to take any insult (no matter how slight or well-intentioned) lightly, so his magnamity here indicated a great deal of genuine respect and reverence. There'd be no time for further discussion, though. Bramimond had made his appearance.

In the darkness in front of Khyron, a shape coalesced. Of average height and indeterminate gender, he (assumedly) was clad in greyish-green robes that concealed his body and face.

"No time for pleasantries, old friend," said Athos. "The Armor of the Berserk has awoken. You must cast aside the seals on the Divine Weapons so we may put away this curse once and for all."

"Right to the point, eh, Athos? Not even a few words to spare for an old friend? That's not like you." Bramimond's voice seemed strange to Khyron, as if it was not his own. It sounded more like that of Athos. "Things must be dire indeed for you to have awoke me with such a request. The seal on the Divine Weapons is not something to be broken lightly."

"I understand that all too well. But Elibe will be consumed without their power, and I have fought beside the men who will wield them. Once again, my friend, I ask that you trust me."

"Trust…" Bramimond turned towards Khyron, and though his eyes still couldn't be seen, the Mage General got the impression the other Legend was looking at him and through him. "This man does not seem like much."

"Neither did I, when we first met," replied Athos.

"…That is true." There was a pause, and then a flash of bright light. Khyron wasn't sure how, exactly, but everything felt…different.

"The seal is undone. Now, let me rest once again…and do not disappoint me."

Bramimond faded into the darkness. And before Khyron could say anything, he had to shut his eyes as the darkness of the Shrine of Seals turned into bright white light. Athos was whisking him away to his next destination, it seemed…

-X-

"Hello, Oldnar. Doing well, I hope?"

"Dammit, Gosterro, what is this? Who are these people?! I don't deserve—"

The Archbishop cut him off with a chuckle. He could see Oldnar's panicked expression in the crystal ball quite well, and he could see the hands of the two Monks resting on his shoulders, restraining him in his chair. Gosterro knew they'd be equipped with Light spells capable of subduing Oldnar if his underling tried anything.

"Don't be so surprised. I sent my monks there to keep an eye on you in case you tried to run away…and to assist you when your guest arrives."

"My guest? What do you mean?"

"Kain is still at large. I've just received word that he managed to kill Zedal and escape before Khyron could deal with him. It seems you overestimated the Mage General."

Oldnar paled. "N-no! That can't…"

"It is. And I predict Kain will be coming for you soon enough. He looks to hunt down everyone involved with the betrayal of him and his men. Now that Zedal's dead, that leaves you and Kassa. We're running out of time, and I'm less than pleased with your failure to find and stop Kain. So you'll take responsibility. If he wants you, he can have you. Of course, the exorcists I've sent to keep watch over you will also protect you. Help them stop him, and I'll consider you forgiven. If you fail, well, the task will then fall to Kassa."

"Kassa? Where is she? Where'd she go? I should have known you were plotting something when I found her missing!"

"She's not quite so foolish as to attempt escape from the inevitable." Gosterro chuckled. "She's waiting at Mount Ebrakhm. If you fail, she will serve as the last piece of bait to trap Kain. And if even that doesn't work, then we'll have to make use of our last resort."

"Last resort? If I can't stop Kain, what else possibly could?"

"I've given Kassa the Starlight tome, which was penned specifically to deal with the strongest Dark magic. And if that fails, the Archsage himself—yes, he's here—has gone off to the Tower of the Saint to retrieve Elimine's Aureola tome."

"The Archsage? You can't possibly mean—"

"Yes, it is Athos himself. I couldn't believe it at first, but no-one else on Elibe could possibly have possession of the Forblaze tome. It seems he was playing the part of a Bard attached to Khyron's army. Silly no-one was able to penetrate his disguise, but that just proves how well it was chosen."

"Well, if you have him with you, why do you need me to face Kain? Why not just let him deal with it?"

"Because I want you to pay the price for your failures, Oldnar," hissed the Archbishop. "Enough of this. If you wish to live, you'd best start planning out your defense. Immediately!"

With a dismissive wave of his hand, the image in Gosterro's crystal disappeared.

-X-

"They're going to find us soon."

Kain was huddled in an alley of Bern's capital city, listening to the soldiers marching in the streets all around him. The sun hadn't even risen yet, but it was apparent the Bernites had already found what was left of Zedal, given this extensive manhunt they'd managed to put together under such a short period of time. He'd managed to flee the scene of his crime before they found him, and thought to take refuge in the massive capital, but even in a city of this size he couldn't hope to hide together when it seemed as if the entire country's military had been mobilized to find him.

It doesn't matter, replied the Armor in his head. I'll take us back to the Isles immediately.

"How? It took us months to get here and I don't have a Warp staff to use."

Remember, my power increases with every soul I consume, and Zedal's was hearty fare indeed. With him and Vyrleena, I now have the abilities of two great Wyvern Riders at my disposal. Watch…

A jolt of pain shuddered through Kain and he had to stop himself from letting out a cry as his body twisted and contorted. Once again, limbs sprang from his back, but this time they were not legs but wings—a pair of great black things which looked like those of a Wyvern. Black mist rose from his body as the wings pumped once, twice, thrice, and sent him high into the air, far above the city below. He'd been detected, and he could hear shouts coming from the people along with the beating of other wings, those of the Wyvern Knights themselves. But his wings were far stronger than theirs. They beat once more, and then again and again, and the ground beneath him turned into nothing but a blur as they speeded him northwest…

-x-

Kain didn't even have time to get his bearings before the battle started.

He didn't know if he'd been flying for thirty minutes or three hours, but he heard a loud smash and then the distinctive tinkle of shattered glass falling around him as the mist surrounding his body dissipated, revealing a room he knew very well.

It was the Lord's bedroom of Ebrakhm castle. He heard someone shouting, "He's here! The Berserk is here!" and immediately rolled to his left, just in time to avoid a trio of Aura spells blasting the expensive rug he'd landed on to ashes. He whipped out a hand towards the back of the room, and three black orbs that could have been from a Flux spell but larger disintegrated the pair of monks standing in the doorway. "Tell Oldnar! Get to the Great Hall!" came a voice from below, and the skull-face of Kain's helmet twisted in a mockery of a smile when he heard that. He wouldn't have to spend much time looking for Oldnar, then.

He charged through the doorway, his hands turned to long black claws with which he tore apart the unfortunate monks he encountered. How strange, said the Berserk in his head. This is a castle, not a cathedral, yet there are so many holy men here…

"They know you hate light magic, so I figure they're expecting us."

Indeed. Do you believe there'll be a trap?

"I'm certain of it. But we have a few surprises of our own, don't we?

Indeed…

Kain was now standing in front of the doors to Ebrakhm Valley Castle's great hall, but he didn't blast it down and charge in just yet. Instead, he knelt in front of it.

Actually, it was more like he keeled over. Suppressing his desire to scream in agony, he bent down over the ground as something emerged from his back. It was a pair of batlike wings, the same ones which had spirited him to this place, but then came more. A head popped out from Kain's back. It was all black, the same color as the rest of Kain's body, but the face was that of Zedal Gustav's. The rest of his body emerged, covered in greyish-black slime similar in consistency to some unholy afterbirth.

As Kain breathed a sigh of satisfaction, the pain having lessened (though not gone away entirely—it never did, while the armor was active) he stood up, allowing himself a good view of his new companion. Before him stood a puppet made of the same black material as the Armor of the Berserk, roughly the same size and shape as Zedal Gustav, except with the wings of his Wyvern attached to its back and its right arm terminating in a sharp point like that of the Bernite's Brave Lance.

And it didn't stop there. With a stomach-churning squelch, the puppets began to divide, splitting cleanly in half. After a moment, there were two winged Zedal Gustavs standing before Kain.

They'll be expecting one of us, not three, chuckled the Armor in Kain's head. Let's deliver to them their prize. But we must be quick, we've only six more minutes.

Kain nodded to his new shadow-puppets. The things gave no verbal response, but they understood his desires well enough. One flapped its black wings and crashed through the ceiling, creating a lot of loud noise. Kain quickly darted away from the door and back to the hallway from whence he came, hiding behind a corner. He then directed the second puppet Zedal to crash through the door leading to the Great Hall. As he expected, the moment it entered it was blown apart by an entire fusillade of Light magic. Kain counted at least thirty different spells being cast.

When the light ceased, however, there were still noises coming from the above floor. Screams along with roars from Kain's remaining shadow-puppet.

He could hear voices—panicked voices—coming from inside the Great Hall.

"There's two of them!"

"It can't be! Are there multiple armors?!"

"It doesn't matter," yelled a voice from within he recognized as Oldnar's, "just destroy both!"

Unfortunately for him and the rest of Elibe, that was easier said than done. Oldnar apparently believed that it was wisest to split his forces—Kain saw fifteen monks leave the Great Hall, passing him by without notice as he hid in the shadows. He waited until they'd left, and until he heard the sounds of combat begin again from above him…and then struck.

He darted out of his hiding place and into the Great Hall. Oldnar and his remaining flunkies weren't expecting him and had no idea of what hit them. And it was all over in just a minute. Before any of them could scream, Kain had summoned three globes of darkness that turned five of them to dust. By the time Oldnar had a chance to yell, Kain had leapt forwards into a cluster of five more of the monks, chopping them into pieces with hands that had turned to claws. And by the time Oldnar managed to get a spell off, Kain had jumped into the air, over the Elfire blast, and summoned yet more globes of darkness to destroy his former commander's remaining friends.

No-one was left alive in the Great Hall now except for Kain and Oldnar.

The former leader of the Red Shoulders tried to escape, prepared to turn and flee, but Kain wouldn't allow it. He crouched as he landed, then sprang forwards and tackled Oldnar, who had started to scream. Picking him up and slamming him into a wall stopped that quite quickly, and Kain didn't waste time getting down to business.

"Tell me, Oldnar. Why did you do it? Why did you betray us?!"

The terrified Oldnar didn't even hesitate. "I-I had to, Kain! Listen, the war was lost. It was lost before we even came to the Western Isles. I knew that, and Trunicht knew that. He threw his lot in with the Church long before Paptimus died. When Trunicht himself was murdered, I took his position as an agent for the Church within the Red Shoulders!"

"All this time…you were never loyal to us? You always planned on betraying us?!"

"Y-you would to in my situation," came Oldnar's desparate retort. "Wealth, power, prestige…the Church offered all these things. I'd be a fool not to accept!"

"And what were the terms of the Church's offer? The deaths of me and my friends?"

"It was a fair bargain, Kain, exactly the sort you'd accept in my position! It was for the good of all Elibe, shouldn't you have been glad? A small price to pay!"

"So everything really was your doing, wasn't it. The failure of the battle at Jutes, ambushing Icarus, and that last betrayal at the castle…"

"Yes, I'll admit it, it was all me. I purposely withheld our forces at Jutes so we'd lose, I told the Royalists, through my Church contacts, where Icarus was headed, and when I withdrew our men to Castle Ebrakhm, I chose that time to finally defect and unite Bern, Etruria, and the Natives against you…

"It was for peace, don't you see? With all three of those factions united against the Red Shoulders, the threat of a continent-wide war breaking out would disappear. It was for the greater good! You should be glad, Kain. The deaths of your friends were for the greater good! Isn't that what you always believed you were fighting for?"

Kain said nothing, contemplating his former commander's words. Then, in a voice trembling with rage, he replied:

"I was a fool to have believed in that. A fool to have listened to you. If the greater good, or reason, or whatever it was demanded my friends die, then to hell with all of it! And if the sacrifice of those most important to me was necessary for the peace of Elibe, then damn the whole continent! And damn you!"

"N-no! Wait! You can't kill me yet! I'm not the only one whose hands were sullied! Don't forget about Kassa! She's worse than I ever was!"

The tendrils of black energy spreading from where Kain's hands met Oldnar's flesh ceased their expansion for a moment. Oldnar, thinking this was proof his negotiation was working, pressed further.

"Who was responsible for setting the natives of Caledonia against you, eh? Yes, I'll admit I thought of the plan, but Kassa carried it out. It was her, HER fault!"

"Impossible. They said the woman who killed their chief had a tattoo on her back."

"Like Kassa's," Oldnar chuckled. "You've never seen her back, have you? I know you've never gotten her into bed. How would you have managed that? She didn't care about you any more than I did. She never did! She'd betrayed you long before you even joined the Red Shoulders. And she was always privy to my plans. She was always my woman, not yours. And she followed every one of my orders without hesitation…including my order to steal away from the main Red Shoulder force in the fog, sneak into the tribal encampment, offer the chief her body, and then kill him before he could accept. It worked perfectly: It set the natives against you, and THAT set the Bernese against you, giving them a common foe.

"You want revenge, don't you? Of course you do! That's why you shouldn't kill me. Let me live, and I'll lead you straight to her. She's my woman, and I was getting tired of her anyways. Me, I was just doing what I had to do, but she betrayed you and Squad Seven personally. If you let me live just a little longer, I can help you get revenge on her. You won't be able to find her without me! What do you say?"

With a hiss, Kain refused.

"I already know where she is."

Oldnar tried to scream. But, just as Zedal before him, no sound broke the silence of his tomb.

::Linear Notes::

The Starlight tome is a reference to Fire Emblem 3, while the Seer Athos talks about…might be Sophia. Or might not, who knows? ;)