No Longer Alone
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And on we go…
Disclaimer: I own nothing
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Franz swung his sword in an upwards arc, mustering sufficient force and momentum to deflect the strike from his opponent's blade. The surprised cavalier reared back with the force of the blow, and then his horse reared back, keeping him out of the range of Franz's blade.
The young knight sighed with a mixture of relief and frustration as he wheeled Neige away, preparing for another pass at his foe. Even as he did so, his mind automatically replayed the events that had led up to this confrontation.
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It was the gleam that had alerted him. For the briefest of instants, he had caught sight of a flash within the thicket. A quick glance around, and he noticed Joshua had cocked his head slightly. Then, with seeming nonchalance, the mercenary unsheathed his sword, waving it slightly as if to admire his reflection in the polished blade.
Franz was patently unsure if drawing his own weapon would have alerted attention, but after a moment's deliberation, decided the risk was worth it. The grip on his hilt tightened, and-
He was distracted by the sound of a warp rune carving itself into the air at the front of the company. As his attention was diverted, he saw a black robed figure appear in a flash of arcane light. Even in the dimness of the fog, he could clearly see the emblem of Grado etched on either side of the trains of his heavy cloak.
A sneer appeared on the man's face as he made a mocking bow towards Eirika. Clearly surprised, the princess immediately drew her Rapier, aiming it at the man's heart.
The dark-robed man merely chuckled, and wagged his finger in a gesture of rebuke. It was then that Franz noticed the line of spears appearing behind them, all wielded by silent soldiers on horseback. He closed his eyes and sighed. Perfect. Just perfect.
Everything happened quickly after that. The man's attitude was harsh and imperious, and increasingly agitated as the princess seemingly refused his demands. Abruptly he drew his cloak back, revealing a trembling child gazing at the princess with imploring eyes.
Franz's heart rose to his throat. Those monsters -!
But all too suddenly there was a roar of indignation from the dark-robed scum, and he vanished once again in a flash of light, along with the child.
And from behind them came the steady beat of hooves as the horsemen urged their mounts into position.
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Franz gave his head a quick shake to clear his mind of any wayward thoughts. This is all wrong. He thought unhappily. A knight was supposed to have his mind clear of everything else except the battle at hand.
Charging his opponent, Franz swung his sword in a hook-like swing, aiming for his enemy's midsection. His opponent reacted accordingly, shying away from the sword stroke –
And fell to the Javelin from above.
Vanessa offered Franz a slight wave before swooping off. Franz smiled, but deep inside, he couldn't help but feel jealous.
That was supposed to have been his fight.
As soon as that thought appeared, Franz shook his head, dismissing it. A knight was not to seek glory for himself, but only for his Lord (or Lady, as it were.)
Still, he couldn't shake the feeling of being dissatisfied as he continued riding deeper into the fogs, trying to source out the man in the dark robes.
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Amelia let her pack slump to the ground as she wiped her brow, sitting down with her back resting against a fence post.
"Just a little more." She whispered to herself as she unfurled her map, tracing her route thus far a finger. "I'll be in the empire soon."
Suddenly, she was aware of someone's booted feet resting right in front of her. Raising her eyes, she came face-to-visor with a Grado soldier.
After her initial start, she opened her mouth, unsure of what to say.
"Get up." He snapped brusquely. "You're not supposed to sit by the roadside."
"Ah, I – I'm sorry." She began as she hastily clambered to her feet, but the soldier had already walked on, paying no more attention to her.
Amelia frowned slightly as this, but shrugged it off. The soldier probably had a lot of work to do – he obviously wasn't going to waste a lot of time on a simple rule like that.
Still, she was in dire need of a place to rest, and the ever thickening crowd offered scant hope of a quiet inn along the roadside. With a sigh, she shouldered her pack once more and continued down the road.
No sense in griping – after all, she'd probably see tougher work as a soldier.
That thought in mind, she sidestepped a man pulling a cart filled with fruits, and soldiered on.
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This was ridiculous, Franz decided. Visibility was atrocious, and he could barely see where he was going, let alone whether or not there were enemy units he had to face.
With a sigh, he rummaged around his pack until he'd drawn out the torch he'd found in Serafew. Lighting it with a match, he smiled as the orange glow illuminated the immediate surroundings, allowing him a greater ability to perceive and counter threats.
One of those threats happened to be an axeman swinging a halberd as he came charging at him.
Franz's eyes widened, and instinctively, he jerked the reins of his mount, causing Neige to rear back. That act probably saved her as the long-handled axe flashed across where her forelegs had been a second go.
Utilizing the extra force the added height gave to him, Franz swept his blade down, bringing it hard onto the axefighter's head. The helmet cracked, gave way, and dark blood spattered onto the Neige's fur and his left leg.
Unhappily aware that the increased illumination also made him an easier target for the enemy, Franz nevertheless decided the risk was worth it if he could figure out where to go next.
Using the light to his advantage, Franz quickly spotted a clump of trees on the very edge of his vision. Shifting his grip on the reins, he steered Neige in that direction. As he rode there, he extinguished the light, once more shielding himself from enemy view.
Their situation was especially precarious – they would have to eliminate all existing enemy troops, otherwise they would run the risk of being spotted and hunted down on their way to Renvall. The unceasing waves of fog would make hunting them all down next to impossible.
Well, he acknowledged. The next best option would be to eliminate the enemy commander – but he could be anywhere, and-
A bolt of sapphire lightning temporarily turned the gloomy vale into brightest day as it lanced down from the heavens at the cavalier's chest, launching him off Neige and sending him sprawling on the damp floor of the forest.
Feeling like he'd just coughed up a lung, Franz winced and managed to force himself into a semi-sitting position, where he could check the extent of the damage he'd received. Even as he did so, he was experiencing a sinking feeling at having to face off against mages. While their defenses – or lack thereof - may not be the stuff of legend, their range and offensive power more than made up for their shortcomings.
He noticed a single hole on his breastplate, cracked and seared black by the intense heat of the spell. Still it had probably saved his life – despite the burning sensation that filled his chest, the wound was noticeably smaller than he would have feared. The injured flesh was also scarred black and cauterized, preventing death from massive blood loss.
Of course, if another bolt happened to strike him in an unprotected area – say his head – the results would be explosive and not at all conducive to continued survival on the young knight's part.
Staggering to his feet, he noted a shifting in the mists that could have possibly been a cloak being thrown back. A second later, a faint glow emanated from that area, indicating that another spell was being prepared.
Wisely, Franz kept to a weaving path that was as much on purpose as it was due to the pain of his injury as he swiftly closed the gap between himself and the mage. One bolt of thunder, then another, surged down, throwing up clouds of loam, but never directly hurting the young knight.
Then he was on his foe, sword swinging in a high arc to cut the mage down even as he turned to run. The sword stabbed easily through the back of his opponent, and a dark spurt of blood further stained his armour.
Franz shook his head as he foe collapsed like his legs had been cut out from under him. Fighting in low visibility was a complete pain.
Now he had to find Neige. She had, unsurprisingly, fled once the bolt of lightning had struck him from her, and now she was missing.
There were probably more enemies in the woods, Franz surmised. It would not be a good idea to whistle and call her over. That pleasing thought in mind, Franz set off on his own, trying not to hunch over and doing his best to will the hideous pain away.
He got two steps before dark energy roared from the ground, trapping him in an invisible field. He uttered a silent curse. Blasted mages.
As the shadows parted and allowed his captor through, he realized the dark-robed man from before. He glared with considerable annoyance at the young knight.
"They've come all the way here." He let out a sigh that was almost theatrical. "Must I do everything myself?" As he spoke, darkness began to gather in his clenched fist, and raising his arm, he aimed the growing sphere straight at Franz. With a gesture, he sent it on a relatively slow flight towards the trapped knight.
Struggling against the dark bonds that held him captive, Franz noted a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Then a blade, gleaming silver, slashed through the dark orb, shredding it and dispersing the magic gathered.
Joshua offered a grin to the still-captive knight. "Tsk. Careless, aren't we?"
Franz replied with a slight glare before he returned to the process of extricating himself from the magical trap.
Meanwhile, the shaman growled angrily at the failure of his spell. Turning to target Joshua, he raised his hands, preparing from a stronger incantation. The swordsman's blood-red eyes narrowed as he settled himself into a battle stance.
Black energy lanced from the mage's hands, twisting into snakelike streams as they sought to confound and entrap the agile swordsman. Ducking and weaving, Joshua's blade flashed once, twice, three times, dissipating many of the spells.
Changing tangents, Joshua now focused on the mage and charged, his curved blade deflecting the multitude of spells headed his way.
The shadowy spellcaster apparently also possessed a modicum of skill – he managed to avoid Joshua's rapid slashes, even sending a tiny dart of searing energy into the former mercenary's midsection. As the redhead stumbled and hissed in pain, the shaman was already weaving his next spell.
The spear shoved through his chest quickly put a stop to that. As the shaman's eyes widened and he choked out his last, incoherent words, Franz felt the field around him fade, allowing him to stumble a couple of steps forwards.
Meanwhile, Gilliam slid the dead mage off lance. "I'll report this to the General." He said in his usual brusque manner before walking off.
Joshua walked over, giving Franz a quick once-over look. "Wait, you were walking around with a wound like that?" He said, alarm in his voice. "We're getting you to Natasha. Now."
Franz didn't bother to argue – doing his best to keep up with the swordfighter, they stumbled out of the trees.
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The battle had apparently been finished faster than expected – by the time they made their way to the solitary village in the area, the fighting had died down.
That was good news. What wasn't so good was that Franz felt worse with every step he took. By the time the walls of the village came into view, he had to lean on Joshua for support, else he would not be able to walk.
As they stumbled their way into the town square, Franz noted with relief that the fog was beginning to dissipate. In some corner of his mind, he wondered if some cosmic practical joke was being played on them – the fighting was over, and surprise! The main impediment is no longer there.
He could see Colm's head being bandaged by Father Moulder, with the young rogue looking rather sullen. Next to him, Neimi was fretting over Colm's wound, which only seemed to increase the youth's grumpiness.
General Seth was nowhere to be found, but Eirika was standing nearby, talking in low tones with one of the villagers.
Still, first priority right now was Natasha, who was hurrying towards the both of them with a worried look on her face.
"Ah, Natasha!" Joshua grinned. "Perfect timing. Here. Take a look at him, would you?"
Franz allowed himself to be lowered to the ground, and did what he could to assist in removing his armour and tunic so the cleric could tend to his wound. After that, he lay his head back, sighed once, and let oblivion claim him.
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Amelia reached up, wiping the sweat off her face. As she did so, she closed her eyes, letting out a gasp of air.
She was more drained than she thought was physically possible. The last two inns she had entered had all been full, thus denying her rest.
Closing her eyes, she shook her head. She was on the last stretch.
"Keep at it." She told herself. "I'm on the last leg… I'll be in Grado soon."
Doing her best to lift her ailing spirits, she shifted her pack into a marginally more comfortable position and continued on.
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"Wake up, Franz."
A rough jolt jerked the knight out of his slumber, and he sat up sleepily, glancing around. "Where-?" He mumbled. The stuffy air in the carriage didn't help his drowsiness any, and on all fours, he clambered towards the opening of the cart, where the voice rousing had come from.
He blinked in the harsh light of the midafternoon sun, noting that he was located in one of the carriages that comprised the supply caravan. The General was riding next to it, and apparently he had been the one who called.
"You've been asleep long enough." The slight smile graced the General's face. "Natasha tells me you should be fighting fit by now. Do you feel up to it?"
"Y-yes, sir, general!" Franz fumbled his way over those words, before taking a jump out of the carriage.
It had been five days since the incident at Adlas plains – perhaps unsurprisingly, taking a thunderblast to the chest had been the most serious injury received by the entire crew. Despite Natasha's best efforts, steady rest for the majority of the five days hadd been the only way he'd be ready for the upcoming fight.
Whistling for Neige, he broke into a smile as he saw his faithful steed come cantering up. She had been smart enough to hang around the General vicinity, and Lute had found her wandering around the plains, eating grass.
Of course, she had expressed it in terms of her express genius being able to devise an algorithm for locating the three most probable locations of a horse in a field of set radii, but Franz had been rather spacey due to some medicine Natasha had provided him, and hadn't really caught all the details.
He supposed he should be grateful for that.
Now they were nearing the lake fortress of Renvall, and seeing as there was no other way to break past it's defenses, Eirika had opted for a head-on assault. That the plan was likely suicidal crossed Franz's mind once or twice (or more), but loyalty to both the General and his liege Lady had kept his mouth shut. It wasn't as if they hadn't realized this was going to be an incredibly dangerous move.
Past a tiny gap in the trees, Franz could see the spires of Renvall in the distance, glinting in the sun. Soldiers moved about the area, obviously on routine duty.
Franz shifted slightly, felt the ache in his chest. Irrelevant. He wasn't going to let that stop him now.
"Let's go, Neige." He whispered softly.
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Amelia stared, openmouthed, at the vast towering gates of the Grado capital.
She'd known it was big, but she'd never thought it would be so… massive.
For a brief, fleeting moment, as she stared at the towering edifice, she forgot her exhaustion.
Massive, gleaming blocks of obsidian stone lined the gates, soldiers standing guard on the ramparts as they watched the seething mass of humanity before them.
Amelia closed her eyes, gathering her courage. "I'm here." She said softly, a silent announcement to the city. "I'm ready."
There was a slight pause, pregnant with anticipation for her alone. She held no delusions of grandeur – the people around her couldn't have cared less if she told them she wanted to be a soldier.
She was doing this… for herself.
"Let's go."
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