Legion of Honor

(C) Intelligent Systems and Nintendo

-0-

08. The Color of Home

"Are you sure you wish to leave?" Louise said, her voice soft. Beside her, Lord Pent placed his hand on her shoulder, which she reached up and held in one of her own.

"You've done so much for us, Louise, Lord Pent," Lyn glanced off to the other side of Lord Pent, where Erk stood, and smiled at her one-time companion, "Erk. More than can ever be repaid. Should you ever have need of us, no matter the request, we will come. It may not be much, compared to your kindness, but..."

Louise shook her head, her body turned slightly towards her husband. "That's hardly true. You've been so much fun to have around, as only friends can be." She looked up at Lord Pent and smiled. "Right, dear?"

"Yes, of course," he replied, returning her smile before looking at Lyn in what she considered to be a very kind manner. "Should you ever return to Etruria, remember that you will always be welcome at our home. And, this is yours." He had been holding a bag before, which Lyn had noticed but had been too focused in distracting Sain--who had finally been led away by the others to prepare the mounts for travel--to care about; now, Lord Pent handed it to her. "Your earnings from the arena."

The bag was heavy in her hands--the weight of all those she had killed reduced to coins. "I-I can't accept this," she said, holding the bag out towards Lord Pent. "You've let us live peacefully for the last month. I couldn't take both your hospitality and this money."

A breeze, cool in the early summer morning, swept past them as they stood in front of the manor in silence. Finally, Lord Pent nodded. "Then, I will take half. Would that be a suitable compromise?"

"Yes!" Lyn exclaimed as he took the bag, reaching for her own empty money purse that hung from her belt. Half of that blood-earned bag of gold would be more than enough to buy rations for the lean days and vulneraries. "I understand that you are well off, both in name and material goods, but I can't help but feel badly if I were to simply take everything you've offered me. If the money is used to help others in some way, that would be much better."

"Done," Lord Pent said with a chuckle as he slipped half the coins into her pouch. "Truly, the integrity of the Sacaean people is far less flexible than that of our own countrymen. Right, Louise?"

Louise giggled. "Even if it's true, you should hardly say that, Lord Pent."

Out of the corner of her eye, Lyn could see the others approaching from the stables. As she didn't want to try Sain's endurance regarding Louise any further, and since her friends had already said their goodbyes before going out to the stables, she decided that there was no need to draw out their farewell any longer. "May Father Sky's eyes always shine brightly upon you, and Mother Earth be firm wherever you go," said Lyn, a feeling of fondness welling inside her as she laid eyes on the three people who had helped her and her friends without asking for anything in return. "And may they grant a thousand blessings upon you."

They smiled back. "Saint Elimine will surely watch over you, all of you," Louise said, her voice wavering as her eyes seemed to shimmer in the morning sun. Reaching out, she embraced Lyn, who stood still in surprise for the barest of moments before hugging the other woman back. "And may she grant you the wisdom to choose the right decisions," the noblewoman whispered in Lyn's ear, "because your friends surely depend on you as much as you've depended on them."

"I will," Lyn whispered back.

They let go of each other and, before she left with her friends, she looked back and saw the three Etrurians, their home surrounded by fields of golden flowers as bright as the summer sun. And then, she turned around and looked before her, the dirt road slithering through endless green fields like one long snake.

They headed east.

-0-

Lyn couldn't describe how she knew when they were approaching Sacae, not in words; there was just a taste to the air, a scent that reminded her of wide, open plains, of filling mutton dumplings and fermented yak's milk and meaty stews, of big groups and always being kept busy with the women's chores and training with her father, of home. It was everything that Sacae meant to her before that dark night, when she lived a happy life without fear, so confident that things would remain that way.

But she would not let herself be distracted by nostalgia, not now when she was so close to avenging her fallen tribe. Instead, she spent her days riding with Kent, listening to the chatter of her friends, and watching Florina's pegasus soar through the air before them as small white feathers spiraled to the ground with every beat of her wings. The mountains of eastern Etruria melted into the beginnings of the bright greenish-yellow of the greater plains as they carried on, day by day, and before she knew it the mountains were far behind them.

Once again, she was home.

It was early summer now; over three months ago since she had left to meet the family she had never met, would never meet now. She had come home with friends, but she still couldn't forget those six months of loneliness on the plains. She had come home and she could feel how much she had missed it, but she knew that the main reason she had come back was to destroy those who had murdered her parents and her tribe. All the conflicting feelings thrashing inside her made her restless, no matter how hard they had ridden that day, every day--what could she do? She had trained so hard for this moment, but maybe--no. She had to do this for their sake, all the spirits of the fallen who desperately longed for an end to their misery.

So long as the Taliver lived, there could be no peace for either herself or the fallen.

Five days since they had first rode onto the plains, Lyn woke up to the light crackle of the campfire. Above her was the full moon, Father Sky's wounded eye wide open and gazing down upon Mother Earth and all of their children. She smiled at that thought; Oyon-baba always had a story to tell her and the other Lorca children about the gods and the Sacaean people, legends that had been passed down since before the Scouring. Sitting up, she saw that Sain was sitting by the fire while everyone else slept out in the open; aside from the rare ruins of a fortress from the days when Etruria tried to take over Sacae in order to secure a land route to Bern, they had gotten used to sleeping out in the open once again. A cold northern wind swept over her, forcing her to rub her bare arms for warmth before she decided to move closer to the fire.

"Oh, Lady Lyndis," Sain said, his voice that of the cheerfully surprised. "What are you doing awake? Are you perhaps worried about me, even after bearing witness time and time again to my prowess on the battlefield?"

"Not really," she replied with a smile. Then, because she knew that telling him she was cold would only lead to a conversation she would really rather avoid, she warned, "I know you're always doing your best. But if you see bandits, don't think you can take them all on by yourself, no matter your strength. We fight together, after all."

"Milady, what an inspiration you are to all of us!" he exclaimed, then winced and looked around when she waved a hand at the others to tell him to lower his voice. "My deepest apologies, milady. Such is the curse of being a knight of passion."

It must be tiring to always be so...excitable, Lyn decided. "Why don't you get some sleep? I'll keep watch."

"How could I let my lady liege perform my duties? No, no, that wouldn't do at all." With the light from the fire, she could see him waving away her suggestion.

"Then I'll stay with you for a little while." Sitting in a cross-legged fashion in front of the fire, her hands smoothing out the front of her del--the traditional Sacaean outfit that she always wore--she looked up at the moon again. It seemed even brighter than before, overpowering even the firelight. "What a beautiful moon tonight," she murmured, more to herself. "If we could see as well as Father Sky is tonight, we would have no need for the markers to Bulgar."

"Father Sky...ah, one of the Sacaean gods you worship?"

"Worship?" Lyn let the word sit in her mouth for a bit, as if testing its weight. "Well, not exactly. At least, our rituals are very different from the Elimineans'. We talk about Father Sky and Mother Earth, but we don't...ah, preach like they do in the meetinghouses...the church? We honor them by holding onto the ways of our tribes. Our ancestors pass down stories so we can understand the wind and the moon, the rainy season and the sun, the shapes of the stars in the sky...well, not to say that the Elimineans don't talk of the same things, but after seeing Lycia and Etruria, I think there's a difference in how we view the world." Shaking her head, Lyn felt a little embarrassed when she noticed that Sain's attention was completely focused on her. "Yes?" she asked, more pointedly than she would've liked. The firelight played across Sain's widening smile as he began to gesture in wild, incomprehensible movements.

"How fascinating! I've always had a fondness for tales, no matter the storyteller." He sounded completely sincere, which to her ears was different from his usual brand of sincerity. Trying to understand him more than superficially was difficult because of that, but the undertone of real enjoyment in his voice made her resolve to try harder. "Lady Lyndis," he continued, his voice lower but no less happy, "could I perhaps trouble you for one of these legends of the plains? To hear the words fall from your lips like perfect pearls would be the only equal of such a beautiful night."

And then again... Lyn had to hold back her laugh in fear of waking the others, but she was smiling widely all the same. "All right. Actually, there's a legend that would be perfect for tonight, about Father Sky and and Biyan of the Blinding Arrow.

"Many, many moons before Hanon, she who was blessed by our Father the Sky and our Mother the Earth to fight against the dragons, was born, there was a great hunter of the Mirte tribe. Called Biyan, he was said to be able to ride his horse silently through the grasses, his prey never knowing they were even being hunted at all until the moment of their death. Because of this, he often hunted alone, despite the danger, so confident he was in his skills. However, despite his great ability, he was a man easily angered, and in his anger he often committed rash acts that made him feared by his own tribe.

"In those days, Father Sky was always gazing at his beloved Mother Earth. One of his eyes watched all that went on during the day, and the other at night. Every night was like this night. But no matter how bright it was at night, no Sacaean would think of hunting after a long day of work within the tribe. As Biyan was already the best hunter during the daytime, he thought he would try to hunt at night. But no matter where he went, the beasts would wake and run off before he could even approach shooting distance, as the night belonged to them in the same way the day belongs to men. He could not believe that he could be detected so easily and he raged at his failure."

As if she had a bow in her hands, Lyn drew back its string and made to aim for the moon. "In his anger, he shot at the only thing he could see: Father Sky's open eye. His aim was true and his arrow sunk deeply within it. At that moment, the winds began to howl as Father Sky began to bellow in pain--it was the first time anything had ever hurt him. 'Why has my child done this to me?' Father Sky cried out, violent gales smashing down anything in their path as he tried in vain to get the arrow out of his eye. Biyan was speechless, only now realizing what he had done. Finally, Father Sky did the only thing he could do: he closed his eye. Darkness covered the plains for the first time, and for a long time that was all there was.

"After many weeks had passed, Father Sky spoke again to Biyan, who had been cast off by his tribe in punishment and now roamed the plains like a vagabond. 'Your aim is true, but your anger has squandered your talent and made you bend to hate. You have already wounded your father; would you wound your mother as well? That is something I could never allow." Lyn lowered her hands to the ground and pretended to scoop something from the dirt. "So saying this, Father Sky picked Biyan up from Mother Earth and placed him in the sky, where he still stands today with his bow in his hands. The blow he had dealt Father Sky was a permanent one, and so Father Sky is still bothered by the arrow in his eye. That's why the moon waxes and wanes, for Father Sky is always blinking just like anyone would if they had something in their eye."

There was silence after she was finished with the story. Before she could ask what the problem was, Sain began clapping his hands, although very quietly. "What a natural you are, milady, just as I expected! And this tale has been carried down for over a thousand years?"

Lyn nodded. "Yes, we pass down our stories through telling them to the younger members of the tribe. So I suppose you could say that I've just passed down the story to you."

"If only I could share it with my sisters," Sain said, his tone wistful. "The younger ones would always ask me for stories whenever I visited home."

"You...have sisters?" Lyn asked, trying to hide her surprise.

"Yes, three of them. One older and two younger than myself."

"Do you have any brothers?"

"No, milady." He sounded a little surprised as he asked, "I've never told you this before, have I?"

"No," Lyn said, guilt plucking at her like an archer would his bowstring. "I should've asked. I'm always interested in learning more about my friends."

There was another stretch of silence before Sain spoke again, his voice heavy with feeling. "Lady Lyndis, you truly are kind."

Such a simple statement seemed to be at odds with everything she had observed about him, and it struck her that this might be Sain at his truest--something he rarely showed for whatever reason. Whether that was true or not, Lyn was left feeling deeply touched, even though she knew that when the sun rose Sain would be back to being himself, or some other self, again.

She went to bed again afterwards, feeling calmer than she had in days.

-0-

After a few more days of uneventful traveling through the central plains, they all had a new appreciation for the vastness of Sacae. Bulgar seemed no closer than it had been days before. Lyn was concentrating on simply taking in the sights of home, her eyes closed as she felt the warm summer breeze caress her face and ruffle her bangs and her ponytail, when she heard Wil say, "Florina's coming back," with a note of concern in his voice.

She opened her eyes and saw that it was true; Florina's pegasus was descending from the endless blue skies. After Huey landed, Florina leaned over her pegasus' head, stroking behind one of Huey's ears as she did so. "Up ahead there's a village," Florina reported, but Lyn could see from her friend's troubled expression that there was more. "Um...it's bad. There are bandits coming down the southern mountains and attacking it."

"What is their number?" Kent asked. With some bemusement, Lyn noticed that Florina had actually relaxed at the sound of his voice.

"Um...I counted...I counted at least twelve, but since there were archers there..."

"Don't worry about it," Lyn said, smiling. "You did well. Let's see..."

What would Mark say if he were here? What kind of tactic would he tell us to follow?

"Are we going in?" Wil asked. "We have to do something, but they more than double us, so..."

"Of course," was Lyn's answer, distracted as she was in trying to figure out a plan. They had vulneraries, so she wasn't hesitant in fighting any brigands, but she knew now just how helpful a decent strategy could be in making sure they didn't get hurt in the first place. Then, she remembered something, a similar incident in the not-so-distant past. "Right, this is the plan. We can use the village walls and houses to give us cover as we attack. Florina, how large is the village?"

Florina held out her hands not too far from each other, as if measuring. "It's a little larger than that village in Bern, that one where we, um...where we all met."

"Okay, then we'll split up into two groups." Taking a deep breath, Lyn tried to arrange her thoughts the best she could--they didn't have much time. She looked at each of them as she give them their orders. "Florina, I want you to go to the northern part of this village. Wil, you'll go with her and protect her from any archers. Sain, make sure Wil doesn't get surprised by any enemies. Kent, you'll go with me to the southern part. We'll work our way around the perimeter of the village, because if we meet in the center we might end up surrounded by any reinforcements."

From what she could tell, everyone seemed all right with the plan. "Milady, you've learned well from Mark's example," Kent said, and the unexpected compliment made Lyn smile in embarrassment.

"Say that after we've won."

"But of course we'll win!" Sain proclaimed. He looked behind him, where was Wil checking the arrows in his quiver. "Never fear, young Wil, you'll suffer no harm so long as I breathe! For you, concussions are a thing of the past!"

There was a sour look on Wil's face when he glanced at Sain. "Did you have to bring that up? I-I'll do much better this time in looking around, so don't worry about me too much."

"Eh? But the point is that I'll be around, so you don't have to worry about that..."

Lyn noticed Florina looking at her arm, where the scar had lightened but was still visible on Florina's fair skin. "Is something wrong, Florina?" Lyn asked. Her best friend flinched in surprise, then shook her head.

"N-no, I was just..." Suddenly, Florina pressed her lips together, determination hardening her usually soft features. "I'll do my best."

"I know. I'm counting on you," Lyn replied, and she knew those were the right words because Florina smiled. "I'm counting on all of you," she continued as she looked at all her friends, and she was pleased by the confidence everyone had. It convinced her that even outnumbered they were a match for anyone. "Let's go!"

-0-

There was just no end to them.

As Kent dealt the finishing blow to the last bandit closest to the alley between two worn-down hovels, Lyn used the respite to ready herself for the next wave who were, even now, making their way down the mountains like determined ants marching towards a downed bird. Though, by the look of the village and its broken walls and weed-choked grounds, it had never known anything beyond Mother Earth. Sighing, she leaned against the wall of one house--which squeaked in warning, making her careful--and stretched her arms, ignoring the fire of fatigue that burned through them. Despite her gloves, her palms felt unnaturally moist with sweat, worrying her; it would make her grip that much more unsure, and she couldn't risk that. Her legs, particularly her knees and her ankles, were already sore with all the crouching and springing forward that her fighting style demanded of her, and she never thought that her back had that many muscles that could be made sore. As much as it embarrassed her to admit it, she was reaching her limits.

Yet it was worse to acknowledge it, to realize just how weak she still was. What good was all her practice in Etruria for if she still wasn't good enough?

Exhaling heavily through her nostrils, she watched, through eyes that felt raw from all the squinting she had done in the afternoon sun, as Kent approached. He didn't look quite as tall on his horse as she was used to seeing, and in a complicated way--much too complex for her right now--it made her feel better to see that she wasn't the only one worn down from all the fighting. "Milady," he called, "I suspect that this coming wave will be the last of the reinforcements on this side."

"Why is that?"

"The majority appear to be rounding the perimeter and entering the village through the eastern entrance."

Lyn tried to think about the possibilities, and could only find one to voice. "Do you think the others are doing well?"

"Well, I would admit that these brigands' numbers far exceed their skill." He was not looking at her; the bandits had reached the bottom of the mountain and, as far as she could tell, were splitting off just as Kent had said. "I do worry that, unless there is adequate cover, Wil may be a liability..."

"There is more cover here than in the middle of the plains," Lyn commented. Out of the seven brigands that made up this new wave, three of them were entering closest to their position. She thought about what Kent had said--these brigands' numbers far exceed their skill--and glanced around her, from the walls that only gave a suggestion of a barrier to the houses that looked less sturdy than gers. The bandits were so used to terrorizing the helpless that she couldn't imagine any of them knowing any greater skill than swinging an axe.

How sickening, she thought, familiar anger roiling inside of her. These bandits are nothing more than carrion birds, stripping away at the weak and suffering.

I can't stand it.

Her mind clouded with hate and the memory of her fallen tribe, Lyn dashed forward, sword at the ready. Before the head bandit could begin to react to her sudden movement, she sank her blade deep within his side, her momentum alone allowing the edge to rip through skin and flesh and scrape at what she thought was bone, his bottom rib, before tearing its way out into the dry summer air. Landing in a crouch, the soles of her boots skidding along the loose pebbles of the barren ground, she rebalanced herself before turning, landing the killing blow--a slash to the throat--as he attempted to turn and face her. Her shoulders, the back muscles around her neck, and her legs all seemed to throb in time, a second heartbeat, but she ignored it in favor of helping Kent, who was fighting the other two bandits. Just as she reached that battle, her ears picked up hoofbeats that sounded separate from Kent's; is it Sain, she wondered, why would he leave Florina and Wil?

There was a twanging sound that seemed to shudder in the still air, and one of the bandits fell over. Another followed, and suddenly there was no one else for either herself or Kent to fight. Confused, Lyn looked past the fallen bandits, her eyes meeting those of a Sacaean hunter. The scene reminded her so much of her first meeting with Rath that she smiled not only in relief but also in the embrace of old memories, raising one hand in welcome. The man said nothing, not that she expected any words. With a nod of acknowledgment, he turned and rode away.

A small cough alerted her to the fact that Kent was still beside her, and she quickly turned to him. "Father Sky blesses us if the plainsmen are willing to help," she said by way of explanation.

"'Men'?" Kent asked, looking around. Lyn nodded.

"Sacaean hunters travel in small groups, and they don't stray more than a half-day away from their tribe." After her customary quick swing of her sword in order to dislodge any blood, she sheathed it and began to jog towards the center of the town. "The rest must be with our friends," she called over her shoulder, and soon she was joined by the steady hoofbeats of Kent's horse.

As they approached the center of the village, she heard the sounds of battle before she saw Florina swoop down and thrust her lance into a brigand's chest. Kent had been right; most of the bandits for whatever reason chose not to enter through the south, and because of that it looked as though the battle was not as one-sided as it had been for herself and Kent. She couldn't see Sain with all of the bandits that were crowding him against what looked to be a storehouse, but she could see Wil, who was standing on its roof and picking off whomever he could. They were supported on the other side of the bandits by three Sacaean hunters, one of them the one from before. What caught her eye was the one who looked as though this was his first time outside of his tribe's campsite; youth was one thing, but there was a sense of panic as he shot arrow after arrow as if his quiver would never run out.

Lyn remembered being that young, once.

The mountain bandits were trapped, but their numbers made up for their bad position and Lyn was never one to hold back if she could help it. She leapt at the nearest one, feeling good as she cut him down despite all of her aching muscles. Every bandit put down was one less terrorizing the tribes and homesteads of the plains, and that meant more and more innocent people could live their lives free of the pain she still suffered. Despite her earlier doubts she did feel stronger, stronger than before Lycia, before that horrible night so many months before--strong enough to protect everyone who needed to be protected.

She wasn't going to fail anymore. That she swore on everything she held sacred: the winds that were the breath of life, the ground that was the body that would never give.

Never again.

So full of the promises she had made to herself, so caught up in the righteous fury as she cut down bandit after bandit that later she would be unsure of how to describe what happened next. What she could definitively state was this: The bandits' numbers were lessening. She was tall, so during the times when she was not attacking she could see over the draining lake of her enemies' shoulders and heads.

She saw Sain's defiant smile when he finally had enough room to maneuver, nimbly dodging a downward swing of an axe and returning with a powerful lance thrust that toppled his foe.

She saw the young Sacaean hunter fire off arrow after arrow--does he have so little trust in his skill that he feels he has no choice but to shoot without regard? she wondered then.

She saw the brigands fall between the two.

Ducking, slashing through the gut of yet another lumbering foe with an axe, she was momentarily without sight, covered by a cloth wall of the sounds of tearing flesh, death cries, and the pulse of instinct thump-thumping in her head. Resurfacing from the thinning crowd, she thought, Fighting in close quarters like this is just like swimming, it's so--

"Sain! Move!"

Wil's yell disoriented Lyn in ways that her constant bobbing up and down in the battle did not. For a second it almost seemed like a joke. Despite their numbers, the brigands weren't that bad. So, she didn't see exactly what happened next. What she see was Sain jerk suddenly, like he was trying to dodge but was caught mid-movement--but her mind didn't want to believe it at first because there weren't any brigands swinging at him. Then he seemed to disappear, his horse rearing in fright. But despite any criticisms Kent or Wil had in the past, Sain's reckless riding was far safer than any wild horse taming she had ever seen because it was obvious both knight and horse had similar wild temperaments. He wouldn't have fallen off without a reason.

The arrow embedded just under his chestplate was the only one that made sense.

Worse than the arrow, so much more worse than that single Sacaean-style arrow lodged just under his ribs, was that even after all the bandits were dead and Sain's horse was calmed down and they tried to make him comfortable on the dusty, pebbly ground while flinging sharp words at each other before they could finally work together, Sain didn't move.

He didn't move.

-to be continued-

This was supposed to be posted yesterday, but after four or so months, what does another day matter? Back then, I decided that I wouldn't post until I could ensure that I would definitely be posting on a weekly basis, and life didn't allow for that until now. Thank you for your patience and I hope everyone enjoys the holidays!

Welcome to the Sacae/Revenge arc. When I was plotting out this story, I had trouble deciding whether to make this a T or M rated story. This arc is why. Even now I'm still a little shifty about it, but I hope you'll enjoy the story no matter where it goes.