No Longer Alone


Disclaimer: I own nothing.


Sir Orson, among the most trusted and capable knights in all Renais. He would never have left Lord Ephraim's side of his own volition. If he were here… then maybe his brother…

"Seth?" Orson glanced up at the Silver Knight. "Why are you here? Where's Princess Eirika?"

"Sir Orson." The Princess stepped forward, eyes worried. "What have they done to you?"

Staggering back, Orson shook his head. "They locked me in a cell… for nigh on two weeks… with little food and water. I bided my time… finaly managed to escape." Leaning against the wall for support, he gazed imploringly at the Princess. "Lord Ephraim… he's still in there."

"We have to save him!" Eirika blurted out, and she quickly rushed down the corridor. Startled, Orson reached after her. "M-milady, wait!" When that proved ineffective, he took to his feet, hurrying after her, the Silver Knight following closely behind.

Together, they traveled further into the fortress.


As the party neared what appeared to be an indoor river, complete with stone bridge, Orson finally succeeded in catching up to the Princess. Seizing her roughly by the arm, he yanked her backwards, into the relatively darker alcoves.

"Princess, think! You can't afford to act so rashly!"

"But my brother-"

"Would be absolutely devastated if you got yourself killed on his behalf." His frown deepened. "Why are you here anyway? What has happened in Renais?"

General Seth stepped forward and gently separated the two of them. "Renais…" He spoke softly. "Renais has fallen. And King Fado… has perished in battle."

As Franz heard that, even for the umpteenth time, he felt a slight stab of pain. He couldn't help but feel – foolish as it was – that if he had been there, he could have done something.

Orson bowed his head. "Dead…" He whispered. "My king…" Then, gathering his composure, he looked to Eirika. "Princess Eirika, you and your brother are all that Renais has left. You must look to your safety."

"…" General Seth gazed past the stone bridge. "Sir Orson… can you lead us to the prince?"

Orson nodded. "It's this way."

As they started across the stone bridge, Franz was certain he could hear the beats of war hooves. The grip on his sword tightened.

As he headed towards the General to inform him, he could hear Orson talking to the princess. "Is the bracelet safe, Princess Eirika? I don't believe it would be wise for you to carry it around – perhaps you should give it to me or Sir Seth. We can't let the Sacred Stone fall into Grado's hands – they could have Prince Ephraim's by now."

Almost immediately behind the general, Franz had to make a quick hop backwards as General Seth drew a sudden halt.

"Are we stopping again?" He heard Ross complain from near the back of the group.

"General Seth, we-" The Silver Knight held up a hand to silence Franz. Unsure of whether it was really worth interrupting the General, Franz took a cautious step back, ears pricked for further sounds of enemy movement.

"Sir Orson, there is something I must know." Seth said softly. Orson frowned in response to this.

"What is it? Can it wait? We have to go find the prince…"

"Yes, about that. Why would you escape from your cell yet leave Lord Ephraim behind?" Seth shook his head. "And that's not the only issue. Where are the patrols? Why was the fort so lightly guarded from the outside? Why have you, a single man, managed to make it all the way to the entrance? How do you know of the bracelet's connections to the Sacred Stone?"

Orson raised his hand in a placating manner. "Seth, there's some mistake here. I…"

"And most of all," Seth continued tersely. "Why do you conceal a sword in your doublet?"

Orson's eyes narrowed and he took two steps back, further up the bridge and away from the group. "Very well. It appears that I was careless. You're much sharper than I would have given you credit for, Seth."

Franz's mouth hung open. "Sir Orson! You can't mean… You haven't…"

The tramping of boots abruptly became much louder as a trio of heavily armed warriors appeared from a hidden alcove. The foremost of them raised his hand. "Enough, Orson. You've done well to lead them here."

Eirika's swallowed. "But I don't understand! Sir Orson, why would you betray us?"

"…" Orson hesitated a long moment. "My dearest wish will be fulfilled at last," He finally said, almost to himself. "To spend the rest of my days in the embrace of my loving wife."

"Enough, Orson. You may leave." The leader repeated. Orson dipped his head slightly, and strode off deeper into the castle. Seth took two steps forward, to be blocked by the spears of the leader's guards.

"Well, it seems we've snared a rather violent hawk." The man sneered, casting a critical eye at General Seth. "But the little dove has been included in the net, so I suppose I have no complaints."

"Who are you, cur?" Seth snapped.

"Oh, that's right. We've never met. My name is Tirado, talented aide to Master Valter." The man smiled. "And you, of course, are General Seth, who has had the honour of surviving a clash with the Moonstone."

"You're that monster's-"

"Where is my brother?" Eirika's voice cut through Seth's as she levied her Rapier at him.

Tirado regarded the weapon in a manner suggesting that he had been threatened by an infant waving a flimsy branch. "He's not here. Managed to evade capture a while back. Quite the stubborn one." He smiled genially. "Of course, now that we have the sister, I'm certain he'll be quite eager to come and rescue you."

"I'd die before I let you use me in any way." Eirika retorted.

"That can be arranged. What's important is that Ephraim thinks he has some chance of recuing you. Suppressing news of your bloody death should prove quite effective in that regard." Tirado snapped his fingers. "Oh, and relieving you of the bracelet should be far easier when they're pried from cold fingers. Cut off their escape route."

There was an explosion, and the far end of the bridge crumbled. Franz supposed he should have been thankful that no one fell into the water, but the more pressing concern of several soldiers storming towards them occupied his thoughts.

"This doesn't look good." He mumbled to himself.


The Obsidian furrowed his brow. "Well? I'm waiting, soldier. What's going on?"

As he spoke, Amelia tried desperately to reform her thought processes into something resembling coherence. It was him! Not just anyone, but General Duessel, the Obsidian. The most revered knight in all of Grado, and the person she aspired to emulate in her life. And now he was standing not two feet away.

"A-apologies, sir." The soldier replied as he saluted crisply. "It's just a minor… disturbance. Nothing you should be worried about." Turning back to Amelia, he glared at her. "Get out before you cause any more trouble!"

Amelia clutched her fist to her chest, terribly unsure of how to act. She couldn't give up – not like this!

"Wait." The General looked directly at her. "You look familiar. Have I seen you somewhere before?"

Swallowing hard, she shook her head and tried to speak without stammering. "N- no, milord, I- I'm, ah, rather sure you haven't."

Duessel smirked. "Milord, eh? That's something I haven't been called in a while." The smile vanished and he stroked his beard thoughtfully. "So, you want to be a soldier, hm?"

Not trusting herself to speak again, Amelia merely nodded.

Duessel turned to the soldier manning the booth. "I'll deal with her." He said as he rested a hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump. "As you were."

The soldier saluted in affirmation and returned to his task while Duessel led Amelia away from the rest of the line. Once they were a sufficient distance away, the General turned back to her.

"Lass, I don't know why you want to join Grado's Imperial Army, but you hardly look the type for a soldier." The General breathed out a long sigh.

"I- I know!" Amelia said. "But… that's why I want to join! I want to become stronger… I want to be able to protect those close to me!"

Duessel frowned slightly. "I could almost swear…" He mumbled to himself. Then he shook his head again. "I've heard many people say those things before. And for everyone that made it, there was another who failed. What makes you a cut above the rest?"

"W- well, you won't know until you test me, right?" Amelia blurted out.

The ghost of a smile appeared on the General's face. "No, I suppose I won't." His gaze traveled to the lance strapped the Amelia's pack. "Draw your weapon, girl."

"Uh? Oh, er, okay…" Hesitantly, Amelia drew her lance and held it in what she desperately hoped was a fighting stance. Her eyes widened as the General drew his sword from the sheathe.

"All right, now come at me with everything you've got!" Amelia's jaw fell open.

"You… you want me to attack you? Seriously?" I can't fight the strongest man in the empire!

"I'm not in the habit of making jokes, I can assure you." General Duessel replied. "Now, hurry up!"

"I – I think I'm going to be ill." Amelia muttered so that only she could hear. Taking a deep breath, she lunged forward.


"Behind you!" Lute's cry gave Franz the necessary warning to throw himself out of the way of a volley of arrow-fire. As he hit the floor and rolled, the mage released a stream of fire that quickly sent the archers scattering. Even then, two of them were caught in the searing blaze, effectively removing them from the battle.

Clambering to his feet, Franz slashed at the legs of a charging axefighter, sending the burly man sprawling.

They had been lucky in one aspect. Fortress Renvall was built with narrow hallways and wide rooms, meaning that Grado's soldiers, however many, were forced to deal with Princess Eirika's band in smaller numbers at a time. Fighting their way towards a nearby chamber, they had thus far been able to survive with no casualties.

Not that it would ultimately make much difference to the tiny group when they were finally overwhelmed by the sheer numbers.

As it were, he could see some of the less hardy members of their group already falling behind. Neimi was backed up against a wall, exhausted and nerves frayed. Ross was, for all his bravado, barely able to lift his axe any longer. Artur's hair was plastered to his forehead, a thick sheen of sweat visible as he chanted Light spell after Light spell. And Franz had a despairing feeling that he wasn't holding up too well himself.

Suddenly he felt a strange surge of energy in the air around him. Glancing around instinctively, he managed to catch sight of a dark shadow in the ground surging forth.

Shamans! Before he could warn anyone, the Flux spell exploded from the ground, enveloping Lute in an orb of dark energy. The mage staggered, then collapsed.

"Lute!" Artur broke of his current spell and turned to tend to his friend. Unfortunately, this left the soldiers free to enter without fear of reprisal from magic. Uttering a loud curse, Franz leapt in to cover the gap. Swinging his sword in as wide an arc as he could, he managed to catch a soldier across the neck.

General Seth waded in with Sir Gilliam close behind. The green-clad knight silently bore the brunt of the enemies' attacks, retaliating whenever the opportunity presented itself. The Silver Knight, by contrast, made use of his greater agility and longer reach, dispatching his enemy with grim efficiency.

As Franz fought alongside his mentor, he couldn't help but notice the dark expression on the General's face. Sir Orson's betrayal had obviously shook the veteran knight deeply.

Forcing his thoughts back to the current situation, Franz continued his desperate struggle against the onslaught of foes. Locking blades with a swordfighter, he grit his teeth and shoved. Hard.

As another soldier lunged forward with a lance, Franz sidestepped, feeling the spearhead graze his arm as it stabbed forward. Grabbing the lance, he used it to pull the enemy soldier closer to him and drove his blade through the fighter's midsection.

Sliding the limp corpse off his blade, Franz took a half step back, panting with exertion.

Then he heard the cry of pain and surprise. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ross staggering back, clutching his midsection.

Too many casualties. Simply too many… Reluctantly, Franz broke free from the melee and headed towards Ross. As he reached the young axefighter, he knelt down beside him, pulling out a vulnerary.

Ross shoved his hand away weakly. "It's… only a scratch…" He mumbled.

"If that's a scratch, the Narube River is a puddle." Franz shot back. "Now hold still." Pouring some of the curative elixir onto Ross's wound, he nodded in grim satisfaction as the bleeding stopped, and the wound began to heal. Handing the flask to Ross, he indicated that he should drink the remainder of the mixture.

"Franz!" He heard a shout from Natasha, and instinctively he spun, bring his blade up high to knock aside the spear that had been aimed at his heart. The soldier stumbled, and Franz slashed at his belly, but his opponent was quick and managed to dodge.

They've made it past the door? Out of the corner of his eye, he noted a larger sizable hole in the far wall. They actually smashed through their own wall to get at us. Damn them!

Garcia had leapt to fend off most of the soldiers attempting to pour in through the new entrance, but a half-dozen foes had already made it in. Two of them faced off against Vanessa, Franz was currently embroiled in battle with a third one, and the remainder were targeting Father Moulder and Natasha.

Lashing out with his foot, Franz caught his foe in the knee, snapping it back. As the startled lancer struggled to regain his footing, Franz slammed the flat of his blade into the lancer's unprotected head. He dropped like a stone.

Seeing that Vanessa had managed to fell one of her own opponents, Franz charged towards the trio that had been occupied with Father Moulder. Joshua had interspersed himself between the soldiers and the priest, but the mercenary was having difficulty handling so many foes at once.

Stabbing low, Franz caught one of the soldiers by surprise, piercing him through his leg. As he fell, he gave a cry of pain, causing another of the soldiers to turn halfway to see what had happened. As he did so, Neimi's arrow pierced his eye, dropping him. The last one was subdued by Joshua with a quick slash to the neck.

Franz offered a weary smile to Colm, who returned it. Abruptly, the smile turned into a look of alarm as his gaze was caught by something behind Franz.

Even as Franz whirled to block whatever it was that had spooked Colm, he felt fire erupt in his side. His precision thrown off by the intense pain, his sword merely grazed the armour of the lancer he had knocked out a moment earlier.

"Never leave your enemies alive, whelp." The gleaming spear-point was once more aimed at the young cavalier's heart.

"I'll make a note of that, thanks." There was a flash of gleaming metal, and the lancer's severed head tumbled from his shoulders. The body twitched, then collapsed. From behind, astride a magnificent war horse, was a knight clad in scarlet armour. He raised an eyebrow as he gazed down at the wounded knight.

"Turning your back on an enemy, bro? That's bad form, you know." Forde chuckled as he reared his horse back to slash down at another foe coming at him.

"F-Forde! Brother!" Franz blurted out as he scrambled to his feet, one hand clutched protectively around his wound. "You're alive!"

"Well, of course!" Forde laughed as he tossed Franz an elixir, which he gratefully accepted. "I ride with Prince Ephraim, brother. Death will have a tough bringing low anyone who fights by our prince!" Then he cocked his head to one side. "Is it just me, or have you grown taller?"

Franz managed a smile. "I have. And I'm a full fledged knight of Renais too!"

Forde nodded. "Where's the princess?"

"Over there with General Seth. But they're busy –" Franz was cut off as, quite suddenly, he realized that the area was devoid of living enemy soldiers. "What happened? Where did the enemy go?"

"Hm? Oh, we beat them off."

"What?" Franz blurted. "They had two more divisions at least!"

"Well, I wasn't counting." Forde shrugged. "Hey, as long as there's no one left who's trying to kill us, there's someone I want you to meet. Hey, Kyle!"

A knight with dark green hair that Franz recognized as Sir Kyle stood conversing with General Seth, and a man with turquoise hair. Franz instantly recognized him as Prince Ephraim of Renais, and he dropped to one knee as a sign of respect.

"Feel free to get up." He heard a calm, collected voice say. "I'm never one for such displays in the most formal of occasions, but in the middle of the battlefield, one might hope that such matters of decorum break down a bit. Come on, on your feet."

Hesitantly, Franz straightened up again to look at the Prince in the eye. Meanwhile, Forde laid a hand on Franz's shoulder, once again reminding the younger cavalier of how Forde had this irritating trait of being an entire head taller than him. "Hey, Kyle. This is Franz. Franz, Kyle."

"Well met, Sir Franz." Kyle nodded.

"Franz? Name sounds familiar." Ephraim put a hand to his chin as he mused it over for a couple of seconds before snapping his fingers. "Got it! You're General Seth's pupil!"

"That he is, and a fine one at that." Seth smiled, and Franz flushed slightly at this praise. Ephraim looked to Forde. "He's your brother, right?"

"Correct, milord." Forde laughed again and placed his arm around Franz's shoulder. "And believe me, I am glad to see you."

"Me too, brother." Franz reached up to grasp the hand that lay on his shoulder. "Me too."


As she lunged, the General smoothly sidestepped, letting her tumble to the dusty ground.

"Ugh…" She mumbled, quickly grabbing her lance again and clambering to her feet. General Duessel watched her impassively.

"Again." Was all he said.

Trying desperately to focus, Amelia took another deep breath. She had to do this. She had to.

This time, instead of putting all her energy into an all-out lunge, she jabbed forward with her lance instead.

Instead of blocking, Duessel simply brought his arm up, knocking it off balance, and clean out of her arms.

Amelia winced as she watched her weapon clatter uselessly to the floor a couple of meters away, unsure if she was supposed to run after it or not. After a couple of seconds, she broke into a hesitant jog towards the weapon.

Picking it up again, she turned around to find Duessel facing her, arms folded. "You have one more chance to convince me." He stated.

Amelia couldn't see her own face, she wondered if the despair she felt was showing on it. To have come so far, and now this!

Lance in arm, she edged hesitantly towards him, unsure of just how and when to strike. Silently, he kept pace with her movements, circling to ensure that she never got close enough to him.

Finally, she struck. Trying to aim low, she struck towards his foot. All she needed to do was to get a hit on him, right?

The lance blurred so fast towards him that Amelia herself could barely see it. In the split second it took for her to think about it, she wondered if she might end up actually wounding the general.

Thunk! The lance embedded itself into the ground. Amelia barely had time for her eyes to widen before she felt pain explode in her stomach.

"Unh…" She moaned softly as she staggered. Unable to bear the intense pain, she crumpled to the ground, clutching her gut.

"You can't even hold your weapon properly, I held back as much as I could while hitting you and you still collapsed, and by the way, you take a deep breath every time before you strike, which makes you extremely easy to predict." Duessel said calmly, as if he were doing nothing more than discussing the weather. "You're not soldier material. Go home, lass."

No! Amelia scrunched her eyes shut, feeling around for her weapon and trying to climb to her feet, despite the jarring pain. I have to prove I can be a soldier! "Please…" She managed to force out. "Give me one more chance."

"I think I've given you more than enough." Duessel replied.

Using every ounce of her willpower, Amelia dragged herself to her feet. "One more chance." She pleaded. "Just one."

There was a long moment of silence, with only Amelia's ragged gasps breaking it as she stared at the Obsidian. "Please…" She whispered.

Finally, Duessel nodded and drew his sword once more. "If you believe you can show me different, then prove it." He replied.

No deep breaths before I attack. Have to keep myself balanced. She frowned. How could she possibly outmatch the General. Maybe… maybe if I try to fake him out.

She concentrated. Stealing a quick glance towards his left, she hesitantly took a single step to the right, unhappily aware that the general was watching her every move.

Concentrate… concentrate… deep brea- ack, no! No deep breath! Amelia swallowed hard, levied her lance, and lunged again.

After taking a single step forward, she planted her right foot on the ground, using it as a pivot with which to swing around.

As she watched her lance tip hurtle towards the General's shoulder, all her awareness was pinned onto a single thought. I have to succeed.

And then, abruptly, Amelia was no longer holding her lance. As she gaped in shock she was vaguely aware of something coming up beside her.

Crack! She felt something slam solidly against the base of her neck, and suddenly she was lying on the ground once again, watching the world go fuzzy.

No… I can't…Slowly, everything faded away into black.


After an impromptu strategy session (and a rather teary reunion on Eirika's part), the group had once more split into two, both cutting through Renvall to head for the throne room, where the only other exit from the fortress was.

The first group consisted of Prince Ephraim, Forde, Kyle, and Franz. The second group consisted of everyone else, Prince Ephraim being quite insistent on the fact that he didn't need any more soldiers. He had happily accepted Franz into the fold, however, after General Seth made a specific request as such.

Maybe he just wants me to fight alongside my brother? The younger cavalier wondered idly as they continued through the hallways. Now that the need for a dashing and heroic rescue had worn off, Forde and Kyle had sensibly gotten off their steeds and begun fighting on foot.

Glad as Franz was to be reunited with his brother, he couldn't help but feel he was playing second fiddle to the three of them. Prince Ephraim was a monster on the battle field, his lance bringing death to foe after foe. In no encounter had he ever received a single injury, and Franz couldn't help but wonder how hard the Prince had trained to become as good as he was now.

Impressive as the Prince's fighting style was, however, it was Forde and Kyle who held the young knight's attention. While they might not have been as skilled as the Prince (although Franz was certain it would be a rather close match), they thoroughly excelled as partners.

Forde's sword and Kyle's spear blurred through the fight, always working in tandem. Covering each other's backs, splitting off to deal with individual foes, focusing together on breaking through a group, they were the living epitome of a team.

Even as he fought off his own opponents, Franz couldn't help but keep stealing glances at the two of them. They seemed to share a mind, so tightly concerted were their moves. While one dropped into a defensive stance, the other brought up the offensive, overwhelming the enemy with precise, rapid strikes.

As Franz continued to watch them, he realized that he would give anything to have as good a partner as Kyle and Forde were to each other.

That thought firmly in his mind, it was several more minutes before they reached the throne room. Ephraim raised his blood-stained lance cautiously as he approached the great double doors, Forde and Kyle standing slightly behind him. Franz brought up their rear, on the lookout for Eirika's group.

Abruptly Ephraim spun into motion, kicking the doors open. As the startled guardsmen brought their weapons up to bear, Forde and Kyle waded in, dispatching them efficiently as Ephraim charged Tirado.

Franz meanwhile, found himself in a swordfight with one of the guardsmen, and he was obviously skilled. Possessing great physical strength as well as speed, the guardsmen kept Franz constantly on the defensive, forcing the young knight farther and farther back. Twisting his arm to parry yet another blow, Franz vaguely caught sight of the helmeted soldier rearing one gauntleted fist back.

Instinctively, he let go of his sword. Even as it began it's plummet to the ground, Franz reached out and grabbed the guardsman's shoulder, pulling the two of them closer to each other. As the startled guardsman tried to pull away, Franz sidestepped and brought his other arm around to shove, turning the pulling momentum into a push.

The soldier's head collided into the wall, making a lovely reverberating noise, and he slumped to the ground.

Wary of committing the same mistake he had earlier yet not willing to stick a sword into an unarmed man, Franz settled for stomping his armoured boot as hard as he could onto the soldier's stomach. He received a strangled groan for his troubles.

Satisfied, Franz picked up his sword and turned back to face the others – only to find Forde pulling his blade out of the last guardsmen. Ephraim, by contrast, had left his lance where it was – shoved into Tirado's gut.

There was the tramp of boots, and Seth entered the chamber as well, weapon at the ready, relaxing only when he had ascertained that the only people capable of left battle-worthy in the room were the five of them. Closely behind, Eirika followed, stepping daintily among several of the pools of blood.

Ephraim gave a tired smile to the General. "Well, it looks like that's over and done with."

"Not quite." Seth replied in a low tone. "Where's Orson?"

Ephraim shook his head. "Not here. I still find it hard to believe he betrayed us."

"Ephraim?" The door to throne room creaked open slightly, and a young girl with indigo hair peered in.

"Myrrh? I thought I told you to wait outside until we were done."

"Yes, but… a wave of darkness approaches. We should leave, soon."

"Brother?" Eirika said, staring at the girl. "Who is this?"

"Oh, this is Myrrh. I'll explain later. First, we have to get away from this place. Follow me, everyone."


Several hours later, Franz stretched slightly as glanced out of the window of his room.

Renais may have had fallen, but it's network of spies were still intact. Ephraim had managed to contact one of them, and they had arranged for lodging at one of their safehouses.

Settling into the bed, he closed his eyes, allowing a smile to flit across his face. They had found Prince Ephraim, Sir Kyle, and Sir Forde (along with a rather strange looking girl), and they were all safe.

Tomorrow, they would start the long journey back to Frelia. That pleasing thought in mind, Franz drifted off to sleep.


"Hey."

Amelia awoke to a throbbing headache, and someone tapping her on the shoulder. Shakily, she pulled herself together into a sitting position, wincing at the bright sun. Duessel looked down at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Do you feel all right?"

Settling for a simple nod, Amelia lowered her gaze as she got onto her feet. She had failed, after all. What else was there left for her? She could already imagine the looks she would receive as she returned to the village, questioning, judging –

"Congratulations, lass. You've passed."

It took several seconds for that to register in her mind. When it did, she stared up at him with an expression of complete shock.

"B- but how? Why? I mean – I didn't even touch you!"

"Few people could ever hope to touch me, lass." The General shook his head and chuckled. "I was testing you to see your spirit, to see if you were willing to stand up again and again." His facial expression became more serious. "If you want to be a soldier, you will face disappointments and hardships far greater than anything I could have done in such a short span of time with you. Just because I gave the go-ahead for you to be recruited, doesn't mean there's no chance of you still not making the cut. Ultimately, though, it'll depend on you. Your strength, your courage, and your perseverance. Understood?"

"Y- yes, sir!" Amelia realized she was grinning like an idiot and couldn't stop. The General didn't seem to mind however.

"Give your name to the soldier, and you can leave. Come back here tomorrow at noon, though, understood?"

"Understood!"


Back at the inn, Amelia spread out on her bed, eyes closed as she let out a sigh of contentment.

She would rest well tonight, and tomorrow… tomorrow she would continue her path to become a soldier.


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