No Longer Alone


Hey guys.

A slightly faster update time than normal. Maybe I could turn this into a habit.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.


"Hrmph. Barely got to bed down again and get used to the old hovel when we get sent off halfway across the country." Forde gave a sardonic smile as he lowered himself onto a stool near the campfire. "No rest for the weary, it seems."

Kyle merely shook his head. "You've no right to complain. Think about the Frelian soldiers who were ended up ambushed by the Grads. I'm sure you wouldn't wish to take their place." Over the course of the past two weeks travel there had been a series of Pegasus messengers sent by the beleaguered troops, carrying increasingly desperate messages begging for reinforcements. Grado had apparently attacked in force, leaving open once more the question of where they kept getting their fresh troops from.

Franz sighed and glanced up the night sky. The pleas for aid had certainly spurred the army towards moving faster – especially those who hailed from Frelia. But the plain reality of it was that still wouldn't be reaching the Narube River for at least another fortnight.

Biting into the bread chunk he'd been holding in his hand, he closed his eyes and tried not to think about the besieged soldiers and what they were doing at right that moment.

"Seems we've been rushing around to solve problems lately." Forde sighed as he settled himself next to his younger brother. "I mean, first we had to run off to Jehenna to deal with the Grad army attacking Her Highness, then we rushed back home to stop Sir Orson from ruining the land any more than he already had, and no we're headed for Rausten."

"We were going to have to go there sooner or later, anyway." Kyle replied as he tossed a stick onto the fire. "Lord Ephraim wants to gather Rausten's Sacred Stone in addition of Renais' own. Their power is our best chance at countering the influence of the fiends."

"We have the Renais stone with us?" Franz looked up.

"Hm? Oh, right. You weren't there." Forde stifled a yawn and turned to regard his brother. "Yeah, the 'coronation' ceremony was basically putting a crown on Ephraim's head for about a minute before they opened the passageway behind the throne room with the bracelets they always wear. Who knew they could do that? Well, aside from King Fado, of course."

"The bracelets? Huh." Franz nodded absentmindedly. He briefly recalled asking General Seth about them back in Serafew back when he had been travelling as part of a small task force instead of a huge army, back before he had ever met Amelia.

He shook his head and let out a mirthless chuckle. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Closing his eyes, he once more let his mind wander to the final outcome of this conflict – whatever it might be.


"Whoa!" Amelia tugged on the reins of Fort, and her mount reacted quickly, slowing down from its gallop to a subdued trot. Another tug and he came to a complete halt.

"Good boy." She ran a hand along its neck, noting silently that its ears twitched as she did so. "I guess that's enough for today. C'mon, let's get back to the camp, huh?"

"Nice work, Amelia." Neimi's voice came up behind her as she turned her mount around. "I'd say you've started to get the hang of it."

"I sure don't feel like it." Amelia admitted ruefully. "My legs ache all over like you wouldn't believe." She patted Fort's neck once more. "At least he's pretty stoic, huh? Wouldn't know what to do with a spitfire if you'd turned out to be one."

"Well, it's pretty admirable that you've kept up with horseback training throughout our march." Neimi nodded as she fell into place beside Fort, her head barely reaching up to Amelia's knee. "Can't have been too easy."

"Well, I can't be too prepared, right?" Amelia shrugged. "The ability to fight from horseback is a big advantage, but only if I can do it well."

"We should be reaching the Narube river tomorrow morning…" Neimi looked away hesitantly.

As the two of them continued to head back to the encampment, Amelia's gaze travelled over to several bushes near the dusty path. The summer was waning, with the autumn creeping up slowly, but apparently a few of the bushes were still in bloom, with…

"Hey!" She pulled Fort to a stop. "Michew berries!"

"Huh?" Neimi glanced around where. "Where?"

"Over there. See? Those bushes!"

"Hey, you're right!" Neimi had already started for the bushes, laden with the brightly-coloured fruit. "Wow, there're loads of them!"

Amelia quickly dismounted, and after checking to make sure Fort wasn't going to run off, she joined Neimi, who was already enthusiastically picking the berries from the bush.

"It's perfect." Her archer friend grinned.

"Huh? What is?"

"Remember how you asked me about making michew pies before? Well, we never found any berries before, so I couldn't show you. But now we've got more than enough!" Neimi smiled enthusiastically. "When we get back to the camp, we can make some."

Amelia chuckled and stooped down to help Neimi pick them. "That's nice, but maybe we could save them for after the fight tomorrow. You know, as a sort of celebration."

"Hm. But what if, you know, there's not much to celebrate?" The archer tucked away the fruit she had already collected into her side pouch. "I mean, if things go badly and all." She hesitated, turning her face away. "We've been pretty lucky about avoiding big casualties or… or losing people we care about so far. But it might not last."

Wow, the mood soured quickly. Amelia plucked another berry, opting to pop this one into her mouth instead of her satchel. She chewed at it thoughtfully as she formulated her response. "Well, it might not, of course." She finally said. "One of us might die. The Demon King might wake up tomorrow. I might wake up tomorrow and this would have all been a dream and I'm still back in Silva. The Pegasi might revolt and attempt to eat all the world's carrots." She shrugged. "But it's all gone okay before, and there's no reason it shouldn't now. This fight shouldn't even be a particularly big one."

Neimi was silent as she grabbed a few more of the berries. "I guess." She finally replied as she grasped the sack tightly. "Tomorrow, then?'

The lancer nodded and smiled enouragingly. "Tomorrow."


The next morning, the army came upon a scene of chaos.

The Grad army had struck hard and fast. Most of the Frelian task force had been defeated and made prisoner or simply slain outright. The few survivors of the task force huddled along with the civilian refugees of the area on a tiny island in the middle of the wide river, holding onto the bridge entrances with a grim determination.

Franz scarcely had time to take stock of the situation before the air around him seemed to thicken, filling the entire area with a choking, oppressive sensation. A quick glance to the side informed him that Amelia and Neimi were similarly affected, with the former grimacing and taking deep breaths through her mouth.

What-? Quickly glancing around, he caught sight of a single figure standing in front of the lords at the forefront of the army. After a moment, he blinked in surprise as he recognized it as Prince Lyon of Grado.

Prince Lyon? He's leading the forces here? It didn't add up. Admittedly he had never met the Prince in person before, but everyone who had all concurred that he was a pacifist in nature. Certainly he wouldn't actively be commanding the troops…

It was apparent that the lords – Ephraim and Eirika in particular – found his entrance an unwelcome surprise as well, and they were currently engaged in an argument with the lord, not that Franz could actually hear the substance of their discussion from his vantage point.

"Is he stalling?" Amelia pondered out loud from beside him. "There can't be any other reason he appeared out here with no bodyguard or anything, right?"

"It might be a body double." Lute observed from several paces back. "Maybe-"

I SEE. THEN I HAVE NO FURTHER REASON TO CONTINUE THIS FOOLISH CHARADE, DO I?

Franz recoiled at that voice, tightening his grip on his sword and glancing around quickly. It hadn't appeared to come from any particular direction, but if he had to guess.

YOU ARE CORRECT. LYON IS NO MORE. I DEVOURED HIS FRAIL HEART AGES AGO. IT WAS A POOR MEAL, BUT ENOUGH FOR MY PURPOSES.

Right. From Prince Lyon. Or, well, whatever was possessing Prince Lyon. Franz shook his head and tightened his grip on his sword. Whatever they were facing was obviously not something to be trifled with.

YOU ASK MY NAME? HAH. WHAT A POORLY EDUCATED LORD.

It Was obviously still carrying on the conversation with King Eprhaim, although Franz couldn't guess if the being's mental voice naturally seemed to resound from everywhere and nowhere, or if he was purposefully projecting it in such a way to intimidate the army.

TELL ME, WHAT IS THE NAME OF THE BEING THAT WAS SEALED WITHIN THE STONE OF GRADO? THE NAME USED BY HOUSEWIVES TO FRIGHTEN SQUEALING BRATS INTO SILENCE? THE NAME OF TERROR ITSELF, SPOKEN ONLY IN HUSHED WHISPERS BY THE LOREMASTERS OF THE REALM?

"What?" Beside him, Amelia's eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open. "He's not… he can't be…" Franz himself was trying desperately to quell the roiling wave of panic within him. If this was what it looked like, then they would be going up against-

CORRECT – I AM FORMORTIIS, THE DEMON KING OF OLD. I HAVE BEEN REBORN.

The effect, as far Franz could see, was immediate – all the Lords within striking distance of the Demon King shifted into a fighting stance, weapons gleaming into the light of the setting sun. Distantly, Franz noted that a fiery radiance seemed to pour from Ephraim and Eirika's weapons – they were obviously imbued with some powerful magic.

HA. SO YOU WILL STAND AND FIGHT. I WOULD EXPECT NO LESS. COME. ALLOW ME TO SHOW YOU A POWER BEYOND MORTAL KEN. A POWER THAT ONCE HELD THIS WORLD IN ITS GRASP. I AM THE DEMON KING. BEHOLD MY MIGHT.

Franz saw Ephraim lunging forward with his lance, saw Prince Lyon – the Demon King – vanish in a flash of arcane light, as if he were never there, saw Eirika stagger backwards in shock or pain.

And ahead of them, the Grado army continued their relentless assault on the beleaguered survivors.


Rushing in onto that island would only get us cut off and stuck in the same predicament that the Frelian forces are in. Amelia glanced around, noting to grim situation they were in. But we need to reinforce the soldiers there, otherwise the troops pouring in from the north will overwhelm them.

It had been decided that the army would split into two main groups, one to accomplish the task of supporting the bedraggled remnants of the Frelian soldiers, the other to sweep up alongside the banks and to drive the inevitable Grad reinforcements away – the group she (along with Franz and Neimi) had been assigned to.

Up ahead, she caught a flash of maroon armour, and nodded to herself. General Duessel was the leader of their battle group, and as usual he had charged headlong into the fray, his war-axe carving a swathe through the enemy soldiers that came up against him. Most of them didn't appear to have any compulsion about facing down their former general – nor, for that matter, did they appear to care that he was obviously far more skilled than they and was comfortably holding his own against five-to-one odds – they continued to march forwards regardless.

Beside her, Franz lashed out with his sword, unseating another of his opponents and leaving him to tumble into the muddy grasses. A brief lull in the fighting allowed her to come up beside him, and she noted that his armour was badly scarred and dented. He nodded a quick greeting.

"Guess we know where their best troops went." He muttered. It was true, Amelia decided – these soldiers appeared tougher than the ones they'd faced before, although Amelia couldn't understand why they'd have brought the best soldiers out here instead of the climatic battle at Jehenna.

Then again, if Prince Lyon really was the Demon King…

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of thoughts. She was just a simple village girl. The Demon King and the fiends were supposed to be fairy tales told by wandering bards to entertain and used by mothers to scare little children into behaving. Now that they were real, that they had appeared before her own eyes…

Leave it to the lords and generals to decide the best course of action. She thought. I'm a soldier. I go where I'm told and do what I'm told. It'll be enough to see us through. A frown creased her features as she stared out at an old fortress once used as an outpost. Thick black clouds were gathering over the place in quantities and speeds that simply were not natural. What was going on over-?

"Whoa!" A blur of motion alerted her to an enemy lunging at her and she swung her lance up instinctively, parrying the strike. With a quick flash of anger at her own carelessness, she wheeled Fort around, trying to strike at the footbound soldier.

Her opponent was dressed in gleaming red armour, like so many of the Grad soldiers she had faced, only this one was splashed with sticky, dried blood. He was missing his helmet, and as Amelia struck down at him, he weaved to the side, letting her get a good look at his eyes – and she nearly dropped her weapon in shock.

What on earth – They were white, glassy orbs, with no visible pupils at all. The enemy soldier lurched away, bringing his axe to bear as he tried to strike at her again. His face was twisted into a vicious snarl, as if rage were contorting his very muscles.

Suppressing a cry of revulsion, she barely avoided the wild slash from her opponent, and struck quickly before he could recover his stance. Her lance tore through the arour protecting his chest, and after a shuddering jerk the soldier collapsed.

What's going on? Quickly, her gaze swept the battlefield. The Grad forces weren't behaving like mindless berserkers, but there was still something distinctly inhuman about the way they acted. They continued advancing heedless of their losses or their opponents, striking out at whoever approached them.

Amelia swallowed past the sudden dryness in her throat. She didn't know exactly what was happening, but it wasn't much of a logical deduction that the Demon King's had had a hand in this. As if to punctuate her point, a blast of light magic fired from a nearby monk bathed one of the Grad soldiers in a holy radiance, and with a cry of inhuman agony the soldier collapsed, wisps of what appeared to be oily black smoke rising from the body,

Briefly, Amelia wondered if the purged soldier had survived the purging, and even more briefly considered going to checkl but two horseback knights rode up to meet her, lance and sword at the ready, and she was forced once more into battle.

In combat Fort seemed to share a mind with her, rearing back, jerking forward, allowing her to dodge and room to strike with minimal prompting. Even as she fought a distant part of her mind wondered if it had been like thatfor Franz and Neige.

"Nkh!" Suddenly there was a tear in her right sleeve, warm blood running down the bare skin of her arm. She struck back quickly, but her opponent was able to weave back as well, avoiding the hasty retaliatory blow.

Abruptly a fireball careened into the side of the soldier's face, sending him tumbling of his steed and into the muddy banks of the river. She just had time to catch sight of Ewan giving her a two finger wave before he returned to facing off against a trio of enemy mages, with Tethys and the lilac-haired swordswoman at his side.

Her other opponent rode up to her, slashing downwards. Amelia blocked the blow wither lance – wincing as she felt the force of the strike travel up her arms – and twisted slamming the blunt end of her weapon into his helmet. He fell to the ground, stunned, and Amelia turned away, trying to find where Franz or Neimi was.


His blade clattered uselessly against the metal buckler of his opponent, and Franz quickly shifted his sword to block the counterattack. Seizing an opening, he slashed at the Grad's chest, and dark blood spurted out over the area.

With a grimace, Franz turned away. Whatever curse was empowering and driving these soldiers also ensured that they would neither offer nor accept mercy. Disabling them or, if it came down to it, killing them was often the only way to ensure they would not continue fighting.

"Come on, Sophia." He urged his mount forward. "We've still got work to do." General Seth had been right in saying that her disposition had been much like Neige – but there were still enough differences in temperament and behaviour that he didn't feel entirely natural fighting atop her.

Silently, he wondered how Amelia was holding up with Fortinbras.

More Grad soldiers were pouring out from nearby forts, waving axes, swords and lance and screaming war cries. He could hear the screeching of wyverns in the distance, but apparently the Pegasus riders of Frelia were doing a good enough job of occupying them and preventing them from diving down on the allied forces. Franz shook his head in consternation. Did Prince Ly – the Demon King bring the entire remaining Grad army to the river? No wonder the Frelians were getting decimated! Well, there was nothing to do but to meet the new challenge.

Just as Franz was about to form up with the line to meet the next wave of soldiers, he felt a terrific impact in his side, and he hit the ground hard. Rolling to decrease some of the force, he glanced up to see a swarthy, muscle bound soldier raising an axe over his head. How'd I miss him sneaking up on me? The thought flashed through the young knight's head as he struggled to get to his feet, knowing that he wouldn't be in time, that the axefighter was already leaning forward, muscles bulging as he began to swing the axe in the short arc that-

The tip of a lance burst through the soldier's chest, and the warrior jerked wildly once before slumping, its weight tearing the weapon out of Amelia's hand. She glanced at it for a moment, and then leaned over to offer a hand to Franz.

"You looked like you could use a save."

He nodded and accepted the outstretched palm, pulling himself to his feet.. "Well, you did cut it a little close." He replied as he did quick runthrough of his body's condition. A quick tensing of his muscles didn't reveal any sharp pains shooting through him, so he ought to be all right for a while yet. "Still, I guess I should say – DOWN!"

Before he consciously registered the motion he had already darted forward, his free hand pushing a surprised Amelia to the side and to the ground, his sword coming up to deflect the lance strike from the armoured knight. Shifting the angle of his strike, he drove the blade into the unprotected area between the soldier's helmet and breastplate, causing another spurt of arterial blood.

He stepped away from his latest kill, taking a deep calming breath. After a moment, he noticed Amelia staring at the knight's corpse, as if she were still trying to piece together what had just happened in her mind. Then, with a shake of her head and a grunt, she pulled herself upright.

"Guess that makes us even, huh?" A shaky smile was offered.

A shaky smile was returned. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess it does."

Any further conversation was cut short by the sound not unlike a thunderclap, and their gaze was drawn to the sky where the gathering clouds were now abruptly dispersing.

"The Demon King…" Amelia said softly. "They – did they beat him?"

"I don't know." Franz admitted. "But whatever they did, he doesn't have any power here anymore." He gestured towards the Grad reinforcements which had moments before been charging their lines.

Most of the Grad soldiers were standing still, looking about with confused expressions on their faces, while some simply slumped over like puppets that had their strings cut. The sounds of fighting had died off with remarkable speed.

The battle was over.


Chapter End


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