No Longer Alone
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Nearly an hour had passed before the tiny company stood before the fortress gates, facing down what remained of the opposition. Franz wiped the sweat from his brow. The constant tension of war was more tiring than he had ever been led to imagine.
"How are you holding up, boy?" Gilliam asked with a concerned expression on his face. At least, Franz assumed it was a concerned expression. Given the fact that a scowl seemed perpetually frozen onto the armoured knight's face, Franz supposed it was the best he could do.
"I'm fine, sir." Given the fact that the question posed to him had been rather vague, an equally vague answer wasn't, technically speaking, a lie, right?
In truth Franz felt as if he had just been through a meat grinder, and he probably looked the part as well. The prospect of a soft bed had never seemed so appealing as right now.
"Ah." Gilliam nodded. "I only asked because you are currently shaking like a leaf in a storm." That remark caused Franz to glance down at his lance arm, which he now realized was trembling uncontrollably.
"Ah… I…" Great. Now he looked like an idiot for all the world to see. Not that General Seth or the Princess appeared to be paying any attention, but still…
"A combination of fatigue and terror would be my best bet. This is your first time on the field, isn't it." The way he said it left no doubt that it wasn't a question.
"Yes, sir." Franz mumbled. A moment later he felt a reassuring pat on his back.
"It gets easier. Trust me."
Franz gave a grateful nod, just before he whipped his head up at the sound of a war cry. General Seth had encountered what remained of the resistance.
Instinct took over, and in the space of a heartbeat Franz had spurred his mount into action as well. Charging to the aid of his teacher, he managed to disable a soldier with a quick stab of his lance before the others noticed that a new foe had approached them. Slower than the others due to his armour and lack of a horse, Gilliam brought up the rear, ensuring no one attempted an ambush.
Elsewhile, the princess had charged the enemy commander. Nimbly sidestepping his clumsy strike, she stabbed once. The gleaming rapier sank into a previously unnoticed seam in the armour, piercing his heart. With a groan, the commander slumped over, dead. The rest of the soldiers fled.
Dismounting, Franz slumped onto the cold ground, vaguely aware of Gilliam rushing inside to ascertain the safety of Princess Tana. The General offered him nothing more than a quick nod before hurrying to the Princess Eirika's side, and he was left alone in the fading light of evening.
He pressed a gauntlet to his face, partially wiping the sheen of sweat that covered his forehead. The searing pain in his lungs felt comparable to having been stabbed multiple times by a rusty dagger, and his limbs felt more like they had been made out of water than solid bone and muscle. A gentle sort of weariness was settling in, the kind Franz realized to show up only after periods of great excitement. The physicians back at the castle had called it 'adrenaline wearing out'. All he knew was that he was feeling it now.
Giving in to his fatigue, the young cavalier flopped onto his back, staring at the endless skies. Was this what war was truly like? Exhaling softly, he closed his eyes, trying to imagine the endless battles that would stretch before him until the day Renais was restored.
The last feeble rays of the sun had nearly given up the ghost by the time Amelia had managed to set up her tent for the night. Given the fact that she hadn't anticipated the… detour that would lead her on a rather roundabout journey to Serafew, she had neglected to figure out lodging for this particular night. Hang it all, she should have been at the Serafew Inn by now.
As it was, her sad attempt at camp-craft would have made whoever first coined that term roll in his or her grave. She was also pretty certain that those sheets were meant to be used for something; only she couldn't remember just what. This trail seemed more or less a deserted one, and thus she had the entire field to herself.
If only she had wanted the entire field to herself. As it was, caring hands and a warm voice seemed to be commodities largely desired, and in short supply.
With a sigh, she shook off those thoughts as best she could, and crawled into the tent. Only then did she realize exactly what those sheets were for – flooring. No good having a tent to keep out the elements if you spent the night lying on a cold and rather muddy field. Muttering to herself, Amelia exited – just in time to watch the tent sag over and collapse.
Amelia slumped down on a nearby rock, took a deep breath, and let out one of the longest sighs she ever had in her life. Glancing up towards the sky as the first of the stars made their appearance, she tried to recall her initial enthusiasm and vigour that had filled her when she had first begun the journey.
None was forthcoming. What rushed her instead was a long list of disappointments and worries. Teetering on the feathered edges of her conscious mind was whether or not she should simply give up.
She shut her eyes for several long moments, letting all her thoughts swirl around her mind like a whirlpool. As she remembered, all the happy days of her youth in Silva teased her, tantalizing her with memories of soft beds, ready laughter, gentle words of encouragement. Contrasted to her current conditions, and turning back seemed to get more appealing every passing second.
She opened her eyes, staring at the path she had walked to get here. A slight shift of her head and she was staring in the opposite direction, the road that would lead her to Serafew.
Then her attention shifted once more, to the messy lump of fabric and pegs and rope that was supposed to be her tent. "What am I doing?" Amelia finally mumbled to herself. "I can't even pitch a tent right. Why on Magvel would they accept someone like me?" Standing, she reached over to set up her tent, to spend one final night in the outside world, before turning back. Those in the village might have been disappointed that she returned, but maybe she could try again a few years later. They would understand -
Clunk.
She glanced down. Her lance had rolled out of the securing ropes she had used to fasten it to her pack. Now it rested at her feet, glowing softly as if in silent admonishment to what she was doing.
Leaning over, she picked up the lance slowly, very slowly. Settling back down on her rocky seat, she wiped off all the mud she could find, until the lance gleamed once again with pristine purity.
As the night continued to deepen, she simply sat there, staring down at the lance in her hands.
"Franz?" A boot to his side quickly jolted the cavalier awake, and into an upright sitting position.
A quick glance around noted that it was now dark. A second noted that he was on the grassy plain he had… lain… down… in…
Franz squeezed his eyes shut as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Wonderful. He had fallen asleep while still technically on duty. As he sat there rubbing his eyes, he wondered if his current situation could get anymore humiliating.
That was when he noticed it had been General Seth who had nudged him awake.
Franz shot up so fast he practically caused a sonic boom, and saluted frantically. "A-apologies, sir!"
"At ease." The General's expression held no clue as to whether he was amused, indifferent, or ready to dismiss Franz on the spot. "The area has been secured." He continued calmly. "And the remaining Frelian soldiers have located enough bunks for us four. I thought you might prefer it to your… current sleeping accommodations."
A tiny snicker drew his attention, and a quick glance behind his teacher revealed four knights, Frelian by the crests on their armour, smirking at him. Life just got better and better, assuming by 'better' one meant 'worse'.
Managing a nod to the General before falling in behind him, Franz followed the General into the border fort.
Several hours later…
Of all the rotten luck. Franz thought unhappily as he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The cot was made out of some scratchy material that he felt no particular interest in identifying, but that wasn't – shouldn't – have been a problem for him. He'd nodded off in far worse conditions.
And yet here he was, several hours later, wide awake, partly because of a carousel of thoughts that seemed insistent on drawing the youth's undivided attention, and partly because Sir Gilliam snored like a wyvern. Fleetingly, Franz considered ripping the bedsheets up and stuffing them into his ears, but the fact that it probably wouldn't be acting in the best manner towards his Frelian hosts (not to mention reparations for damaged property was likely to come out of his own purse) quickly silenced that notion.
After groaning for what seemed the umpteenth time and rolling over yet again, he wondered how Forde was doing. Seeing as how his older brother's last known position had placed him in company of the now missing Prince, it was a fair bet that if Prince Ephraim now survived, his brother lived too.
Assuming, of course, that a stray arrow or javelin hadn't found its way onto a weak spot in his elder brother's armour…
"SSSHNNNARKK…" Gilliam's snore once again rumbled throughout the tiny room. Sighing, Franz returned to his interrupted musings. His mother had died when he had been too young to remember her, and his father had also passed on around his sixth birthday. Forde was the only family he had now.
Sighing, he let his train of thought continue to the General, who was currently bedding down in the room adjacent to this one. He and the Princesses had been busy planning the most direct route to the Frelian capital, and most likely it would be a hard ride. Something odd, though… Franz frowned at the memory. Nearly every time the General had raised his left arm, whether in combat or to gesture at something, a flash of plain had made its way onto his face. It only lasted for a split instant, but after seeing it for the fourth or fifth time, Franz couldn't write it off to imagination.
Relegating it to a list of questions to be dealt with 'later', he rolled over once more, stuffed his fingers into his ears, shut his eyes, and tried to sleep.
…
…
…
"SSSHHHNNNNAARKK..."
Maybe if he thought 'happy' thoughts… like golden summer fields, cool springs, glorious meadows…
The next morning…
A casual observer might have assumed it to be a slightly discoloured boulder. After all, it was shaped like one. If it weren't for the viridian colouration, not to mention a silvery pole sticking up from the centre, no one would have given it a second glance.
Frankly, Amelia preferred they didn't give her tent a second glance. She would have also preferred no one give it a first glance. Lest there be any doubters amongst you, she established that fact very quickly after she wriggled her way out of the exit. Rolling her tent into as small a ball as possible (an act that was aided by copious amounts of stomping), she stuffed it into her bag and vowed to wipe all memory of it from her mind.
Lugging her pack onto her shoulders, she glanced at the two pathways that stretched out before her. Then, with a smile, she turned and took a step in the direction of Serafew.
The journey may be tough, She thought to herself. And the destination tougher. But I'll persevere. I will finish it. I will grow stronger. And I'll make everyone at home proud.
She glanced heavenward as the clouds slowly parted, letting the sun peek through once more. Are you watching, mother? I'll grow stronger and I'll make you proud of me. That's a promise.
Gripping her lance tightly in her right hand, she continued down the trail.
A tap on the shoulder was what roused Franz from the land of slumber this time. Glancing up, he noted Gilliam was up – and decked in full battle armour – and was gesturing for him to do likewise.
Sleepily, he clambered to his feet, and began dressing, as Gilliam listed out the day's itinerary. "We'll be leaving for the castle before the hour is out. Assuming we get a smooth journey, it'll take us approximately two days to reach the capital."
Franz nodded drowsily as he buckled his breastplate. Standing, yawning, and stretching, he got himself ready quickly as he considered possible, and followed the older knight outside.
General Seth was already there and waiting for them, along with Princess Eirika. A moment later, Princess Tana stumbled out of her personal room, rubbing sleep stuff from her eyes, and hair a mess. For a lady who was normally so cheery and sociable, Franz noted, she wasn't at her best in the mornings. Eirika took it all in stride – probably nothing she hadn't seen before, and motioned to the carriage. From what Franz could tell, his part in this would be to ride vanguard for the primary escort. Simple enough, bar the possibility of a bandit attack, but few gangs would be idiotic – or desperate – enough to assault a carriage flanked by a full regiment of knights. The only other plausible opponent would be Grado troops, and it was unlikely they would have ventured so far into Frelia. Regardless, more troops would arrive at the border fort to strengthen it soon, and hopefully hold it should a siege occur.
With a nod from General Seth, Franz mounted Neige, and rode slowly. I feel somewhat guilty, He thought to himself. Most of my fellow trainees are either dead or in captivity, and I'm alive and free, stuck with no more cumbersome a duty than escorting a pair of Princesses, solely because of my connection to General Seth. Heck, my brother is currently a renegade in Grado territory, if reports are to be believed. He glanced down at the paved path he was riding along on, and a melancholic smile found its way onto his face. It seems to me I'm getting off entirely too easy on this whole wretched mess.
Fate, it seemed, would later go all-out to prove that particular thought wrong.
Chapter three completed. Thank you for reading. I ask that you review.
