No Longer Alone
Right, let's get on with it, shall we?
Battle scene in this one is awfully short, but plotwise, this was always a filler chapter anyway – eh.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Fighting through the halls of the Rausten palace in the middle of the night was a rather novel experience – and one Franz was rather keen on not repeating anytime soon.
Poor visibility aside, the layout of the place was confusing enough that if it weren't Ewan's constant directions they would probably still be wandering around trying to locate the primary area of the conflict. But the young mage's sensitivity to magic allowed him to sense the anomalies in the area – the Grad forces had apparently used some combination of teleportation and cloaking spells to manage to strike at the heart of the nation so effectively.
Still, the force had to have been a relatively small one – given the relative dearth of troops that they were cutting their way through, it was likely that they had consolidated the majority of their forces on an assault on the leaders. The throne room was thus the obvious target for both sides.
Even the few fights they'd ended up in had taken their toll on the four warriors, various nicks and cuts crossing over their skin – wounds they would have normally shrugged off due to armour were now constant irritants, sending fresh waves of pain through their bodies every time they moved. Only Ewan, who normally wore little armour and tended to stay at a distance in battles anyway appeared to be in top fighting form.
Just as well I packed the vulneraries from the armoury, then. Franz thought as he hastily quaffed a dose of the medicinal mixture, and sighing with relief as he felt the worst of his wounds fade. He handed the bottle to Amelia, who was at his side, and she gave a grateful nod as she drank the potion herself.
And then abruptly they were at the entrance of the throne room, the doors flung open to a scene of chaos.
The first thing that caught Amelia's eye was the throne. Naturally it would have been the most grandiose thing in the entire chamber regardless, but now it especially stood out.
Pontifex Mansel was there, still sitting on his throne, clutching his sceptre in both of his hands. A faint glow surrounded him and those in his vicinity, so she surmised that he had to be casting a spell of some sort.
Surrounding him were the Lords and rulers of the continent – L'Arachel, her eyes narrowed in determination as she held her staff forth, letting jets of fire and lightning storm through the darkened halls, King Ephraim and the princess Eirika, sword and spear gleaming in the faint light, Innes, Tana, General Seth, General Duessel – and a red-haired soldier that looked vaguely familiar.
Together they formed a loose semicircle around the Pontifex, fending off the seemingly endless number of soldiers that swarmed towards the throne, desperate on killing the Pontifex – or any of the other high-profile targets that offered such a tempting prize.
A moment later, another realization seared its way through her mind – aside from the assorted lords and generals, the four of them were the only other soldiers in the room that were attempting to defend the Pontifex – a few soldiers were also present, decked in the livery of Rausten's Guard, but they were slumped in various positions across the room and obviously in no condition to be fighting.
Oh, no. If they were the only ones here, then the others would have to be occupied somehow – probably dealing with splinter groups that had left to delay them from reaching the throne room. How exactly were the four of them supposed to make any meaningful contribution to the fight?
At that moment, she caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye – an archer, half-hidden by shadows, was slowly drawing his bow back, ready to loose it upon the group surrounding the throne.
"There!" She called, and her friends, alerted to the danger, burst into action, moving to deal with the ranged fighters in the chamber. The archer Amelia had spotted went down quickly, a blast of ice shooting out from Ewan's hands to immobilize and entrap the bowfighter.
She moved forward herself, twisting her weapon in an arc to knock away a surprised archer's bow before she sent him crashing to the floor. Barely pausing to ascertain that her foe was no longer a threat, she moved on, turning to disable the next foe – and the next. And the next.
Don't stop, don't make yourself an easy target, just keep moving. Amelia ducked and dodged and weaved through the press of bodies – the deep gloom suddenly working in her favour – in the darkness, there were far more targets that she could strike at than than the other way around. And if Amelia was going to be honest with herself, she was going to need all the help she could get in a situation like this.
Her weapon was heavier than the light lances she was used to, but it made up for it with a barbed edge that allowed it to tear easily through enemy armour – as much as she hated to admit it, this was a weapon designed primarily for killing, and if she was going to get through this fight, she would need to use her weapon to is full potential. The lack of any armour helped too – as much as it meant that she was extremely vulnerable to even glancing blows, it afforded her some extra mobility and agility – things that were sorely needed in a chaotic melee like the one she was in.
Suddenly, she felt warmth and wetness rush down her shoulder, and she flinched away from the dagger that had struck her – the wound wasn't deep, she could still move her arm without too much effort – but the fiery pain would only be a distraction as they continued to battle. With a growl, she stumbled back, readying her weapon at the rogue who had ambushed her.
He was fast – constantly circling, trying to find an opening. Amelia stood her ground, all her attention focused on him, giving him no quarter. In the back of her mind, she desperately hoped that her friends weren't too occupied to be watching her back. She definitely didn't like the idea of a one of the enemy soldiers simply sneaking up and putting a knife in it. She was vaguely aware that Franz was in the immediate vicinity behind her, and the thought, fleeting as it was, comforted her
Abruptly the rogue burst into action, one hand whipping up to slash at her midsection. He was fast, but Amelia was just barely able to match his speed and knock aside the blow. Not bothering with trying to bring her cumbersome weapon around, she clenched her right fist and punched him in the cheek as hard as she could… which turned out to be pretty hard, at least given the way he reacted. The rogue crumpled to the floor, head lolling weakly to the side.
With a groan, Amelia stepped back, and then turned around, eyes already hardening with determination. Cries from the entrances to the chamber heralded the long-awaited arrival of other allies, but there was still much work to be done.
Tightening her grip on her weapon, Amelia charged into the melee once more.
"That was incredibly reckless." His mentor's eyes were hard as they stared down at him. "Entering a battlefield without any protective gear whatsoever? And in the middle of the night, in unfamiliar territory, against an enemy whose disposition, abilities and armament you knew nothing about? And with no backup aside from three others of the same age as you? I consider a miracle that all four of you are still alive, never mind that your injuries were so minor."
Franz kept his gaze steady. "I understand that it was extremely risky, General. We weighed the risks and decided that it was the best option, all things considered. We were not aware that you had the situation in the throne room so well under control, so we thought it best to reinforce you with whatever means available."
As he held General Seth's gaze, he saw the Silver Knight's expression soften a little. The red-haired paladin nodded slightly. "Truth be told, we were rather hard-pressed. Your intervention diverted a significant bit of pressure away from our defense of Lord Mansel. In fact," he continued wryly, "Lord Ephraim was so grateful for your aid that he's decided to overlook the reason why the four of you were able to respond so quickly to the sounds of battle, as well as why you four were wielding weapons of Rausten make."
"Er…"
"You'll also be pleased to know that Pontifex Mansel has graciously allowed you to retain those weapons, at least for the duration of the conflict."
"Um… please, uh, convey my thanks?" Franz ventured, unsure if that really was the right response.
"I believe I will." The general was smiling now. "And that aside, get some rest, Franz. That's an order."
Franz saluted until the general had left the vicinity and turned around. It was in that curious hour of the morning where the entire world was blanketed in a swathe of pale grey, giving everything an unearthly, surreal look. Letting a deep breath out, he noted Amelia being tended to by Natasha and headed over to check up on them.
As he neared, Amelia glanced up and flashed him a weary smile. "Another scar to add to the collection." She snarked as she indicated the ragged tear on her tunic and the scarred flesh underneath. "How are you holding up?"
"Been better." He replied noncommittally. "Didn't get hurt much during the last fight, though. I got lucky for once, I guess."
"Heh, yeah." Amelia grinned at him as Natasha finally finished her work. Flashing both of them a quick smile, the cleric left to tend to the others. "This was the first fight in a while neither of us had to go out of our way to save the other, wasn't it?"
"…" Franz thought it through. "I think so." He acknowledged after a pause. He silently wondered if Amelia was driving at any particular point, but the exhaustion of the previous night had chosen this moment to bludgeon him in between the soldier blades, and was fighting a growing urge to collapse onto the nearest bunk. "That's good, right?"
For a moment, Amelia looked like she wanted to say more, but then she shook her head. "Yeah, that's good. And now, sir knight, you look like you could use a soft bed." She said with a quirk of her lips.
Amelia had gone off to sleep by the time Amelia slumped herself on a bench in the castle gardens. Strangely enough, she didn't feel particularly tired herself, and so she simply sat there, staring listlessly at the pond in front of her.
The group that had attacked the palace were the last significant force of Grad soldiers in the continent – numbering approximately five thousand, according to General Duessel's estimates. They had been low in number – and yet they had staked all their efforts on an all-out strike on the palace of Rausten.
Her expression hardened as she pondered it – why would they devote themselves to such a suicidal attack? Even if they had succeeded in their theoretical goal of successfully assassinating the Pontifex, they would have certainly been annihilated in the process. So why had they attacked so forcefully anyway? Didn't their lives mean anything more to them?
She sighed and rubbed unhappily at her forehead. She didn't need this kind of distraction – not now. Not with the end so close.
If we'd finished this up sooner, there wouldn't be several hundred dead bodies to be carted off and dumped in a mass grave. Those men would be able to go home to their families and friends. The lancer closed her eyes. Why now? Why so near the end? Why such suicidal charge?
The Grad soldiers weren't allied with the Demon King – at least, not when in control of their own faculties. They had to know that there was something big on the way, something potentially disastrous – she could understand if they weren't jumping for joy at the prospect of allying themselves with the armies of Frelia and Renais, but why would the remnants of Grado go out of their way to attack?
Unless they hadn't been aware of the presence of Lord Ephraim's armies in palace and had been hoping for a weaker target… but that made no sense. It wasn't like their arrival hadn't been made terribly public, and Amelia wasn't so naïve that she'd believe they didn't have Grad spies in the area checking up on their every move.
So… why?
"Amelia? What are you doing out here?" Quickly, she stood and saluted. General Duessel returned the salute.
"Nothing much, sir. Just pondering what would make the remnants of the mightiest army in the land hurl themselves into a suicidal mission like that." Normally, she wouldn't have been quite so open, but she was rather on edge now, and besides she felt that she knew the general well enough that he wouldn't take ire at her question.
In response, Duessel heaved a sigh. "Amelia, do you know how many Grad generals are still active? And before you start, I don't count. I haven't counted since Bethroen."
She frowned. "Valter and Caellach were killed at Jehenna, General Selena died in the marshes, Sunstone Glen's body was found in the Carcino mountains, so… one?"
"One." The general confirmed, his face stony. "One Blood Beryl, who goes by the name of Riev. A former general of Rausten, as it were, until he was exiled."
"Exiled?"
"Yes. For the rather severe crime of dabbling in necromancy and fel magics." He shook his head. "Of course, at this point Emperor Vigarde was little more than a puppet of the Demon King, and so he gladly welcomed a new follower – especially one so able."
Amelia remained silent.
"For one such as Riev, this was the perfect opportunity – a chance to strike at the man who had him exiled, a chance to hurt, however slightly, our forces… and of course, a chance to rid himself of the dead weight of the Grado soldiers still serving under him."
At this, Amelia did start, and she turned to the general, a questioning look in his eyes. Duessel didn't look her in the eye.
"He's probably in the heart of Darkling Woods right now, paying obeisance to the Demon King himself."
The sun had barely peeked over the edge of the world, but the chill that shot through Amelia's spine had nothing to do with the coldness of the dawn air.
"Ready?" Franz asked.
She returned a tired smile. "No."
Franz nodded once as they looked over the assembled soldiers in the courtyard, all in perfect battle formation, gleaming in the colours of four different countries. Frelia, Renais, Rausten, and even Grado were all together, working together for a single, unified goal.
He could see her swallow. "This is it, isn't it? This is really… once we're on the march, we'll be fighting our way straight to Darkling Woods, and then it ends. Everything ends. It'll be over soon."
Franz blinked. "Over…" he repeated the words to himself, thinking about what it meant. Peace again. The long, hard process of rebuilding, but compared to the horrors of war he'd witnessed over the last year, the path ahead looked so inviting.
"Over…" Amelia said again. "If only we can get through this, huh? Get through the hardest battle of our lives?"
"We've been through so many of them already." Franz said, trying to sound comforting. "We'll get through this one too." It was only in silence that he allowed his fears and nightmares to run free… he had to put up a strong face for the others.
"Yeah… I guess we will." Amelia's face looked wistful for a moment, and then she turned away, continuing her preparations. Sophia and Fort were snorting and tossing their manes, apparently filled with energy and ready to go free.
So intent was he on fastening the saddle of his horse that it was several moments before he felt the soft hand on his shoulder. Turning, he gazed into the nervous face of Amelia.
"Yes?"
"Franz…" She began softly and swallowed. "I, uh, I know this really isn't the right time for this, but… I really wanted to say it just once – before we, you know, went off to fight."
He kept his expression neutral and impassive, although he couldn't help the tiny tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Franz, I… I lo-" Her words were cut off as he leaned over and quickly planted a small but very real kiss on her lips. He kept his eyes open, so he could clearly see hers widen in surprise – pleasurable surprise, he hoped.
After pulling away, he gave her gentle smile. "I know, Amelia. I have a lot of things I want to tell you, too. But let's save them, okay? Let's wait until after al the fighting is over and when we can enjoy everything properly. Consider it our promises to each other that we'll both get out of this alive."
Her own smile strengthened, and she gave a nod. "Got it."
Just then, the call to march was sounded, and everything became a blur of frenetic action. One last shared look, and then they were hurrying to their respective mounts, ready to head into battle for the last time.
Chapter End
*sigh* A short chapter again. Oh well. Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it, and please review.
