Sometimes honest, by chance
It was a cold night when the traveler arrived, even by Feroxi standards. The wind ripped through furs and armor, the snow froze anyone foolish enough to stay still, and even fire needed magic not to turn into pillars of ice.
Anyone traveling the roads was either brave or foolish. The second the traveler opened his mouth, he confirmed he was both.
"I… seem to have misplaced my wallet. Perhaps one of the lovely ladies here could provide me with a drink?"
Half a dozen mercenaries turned towards him and glared. The traveler lifted his hands.
"I understand. All of you, too terrified of rejection to risk asking me first. Well, don't worry. There's room in my heart for all of you."
The bartender shook her head.
"Well, you got guts. I'll give you that."
"Courage is just one of my talents. If you wish to see more…"
"Alright. What else do you do?"
"It depends on what a beautiful woman requires of me. A swordsman, a dancer, a passable bard, if someone else can handle the instruments. And, of course..."
"Gonna cut you off right there, before you embarrass all of us. Bard?"
"Well, I can tell a passable tale on a cold night."
She lifted an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
"Of course. I have a few prepared for just such a night."
"I bet. You know what, I'm in a good mood. You don't ruin it, we can find somewhere to put you for the night, even spot you a drink."
"And in the unlikely event I disappoint?"
"Well, you're in a bar full of mercenaries, and about half of them don't like you already. Good luck."
The guest smiled.
"Of course. I'll just have to win them over. Perhaps I could have a drink first, to ready my nerves?"
"No."
"As cruel as the wind on the door. Perhaps a summer's tale is in order? In the bitter cold of the north, it soothes the soul to remember the plegian sands and the burning sun."
One of the mercenaries nodded in the back of the room.
"My old hometown."
"Not these sands, friend. Your sands may have been unforgiving, but compared to this desert, they were an oasis. The gods had abandoned them, and even the sun was no relief from the shadow of hell!"
"Like I said, my old hometown."
The room (or at least the people in it) laughed. The traveler smiled.
"And did the dead walk? Did the Earth bring forth endless waves of monsters to consume the living? Was the ground so unholy that a year after the fall of Grima they still summoned Risen from the far reaches of the Earth? If so, I can see why you left."
"Nah. Just my mother in law."
"Ah. A worse fate still. You have my sympathies."
The traveler paused until the room was quiet. It was a good night for this kind of work. Ferox had always been a magnet for the most pleasant kind of drinker, and on a night like this, human kindness and fine alcohol made for a well primed audience.
"But not every foe can be escaped. Four travelers were lost on the Plegian sands that day, soldiers from the last war. Lost and unprepared for the foes that faced them."
"Which side were they on?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Because, speaking as a Plegian, if they were on Plegia's side they deserved whatever they got."
"Ylisseans. Four companions, searching for something lost, something more precious than all the treasures on the continent. They were a hardy lot, bound together by countless battles. A knight, in armor scratched and battered by every weapon, but no armor as hard as her heart. A taguel, a blend of beast and man. And two mercenaries, a beautiful and cruel woman paired with the most dashing man ever to grace the world. A ladykiller without compare."
The bartender smirked.
"I can picture him already."
"Of course. You have a passable model nearby."
"Yeah. All I have to do is imagine someone as far from you as humanly possible and I'm pretty much set."
The traveler winced.
"We've spent too long already in setting the stage. The action was what mattered. The merciless tides of battle that would consume the desert town and drive our heroes to their limits. The might of the endless hordes of bandits against four heroes, skill against the dark!"
"Bandits?"
The traveler shook his head.
"A slip of the tongue. There was nothing in the wastes but risen. It would be too soon after the wars to stress a few humble soldiers with killing their fellow man. Sadly the undead knew no such mercy, and when the few searchers arrived in the center of an outpost, they rose. A less hardened band would have been consumed in instants. Ordinary veterans would quake and flee. But four stood at the mouth of hell itself, and stared back."
The traveler smiled.
"They were surrounded, enemies on every side. Back to back in the heart of the swarm. Countless armies came before them, the damned dead of all the world. And as the dead broke against their armor, their weapons broke on the dead. Each of the four was worth a thousand, and the better of the two mercenaries was worth ten times that, but they were still mortal. They fell back to the upper floors, and barricaded the ground below. The ground moaned for their blood. The city was a wall of flesh and jutting bone. But they had no choice! They could keep in their doomed fight, hold against the endless foe, or they could be consumed! Death or glory! Victory or the most bitter of defeats, never again seeing their home, never finding the goal they sought. In the teeth of the enemy, there was no real choice left."
One of the mercenaries in the back of the room coughed.
"How many of these things did you say there were?"
"Countless! A horde without end!"
"Yeah. About that? I hunted Risen for a while, between the big wars. And I can safely say I never saw more than about… fifty at a time, maybe sixty. They don't cluster up like that normally. Too much effort for too little meat."
Another mercenary shook his head.
"No, it checks out. Friend of a friend of mine went after a necromancer in Chon'sin, before Walhart came on the march. He said the guy had hundreds of the things running around."
"Maybe, but that was a necromancer. Different thing. He's talking about free range risen, the things you used to get outside everywhere. They never made hordes that big."
"Come on. Necromancers don't get their hordes from nowhere."
"No, they get 'em from corpses. Which they usually made themselves."
"Okay, but how do you explain the stories after the Valm war? The whole divisions of the dead?"
"I 'explain' them by saying that they're full of crap. You got people making all kinds of excuses for cutting and running, on every side. It's a lot easier to say that the dead got your unit than to admit you turned tail because the Ylisseans had you in a pincer, or that you'd switched sides too often for the money."
"That doesn't cover everything."
"It covers enough. You don't need to explain…"
The traveler coughed.
"Does it matter how many there were, exactly? I… may have exaggerated a few numbers. To put the heroism into better perspective. The classical poets did it all the time. So do lovers, come to speak of it. All of them claimed their beloved was the most perfect in the world. It couldn't always be true."
The traveler winked to close the sentence before opening a new one.
"After all, not all of them had the fortune to visit here."
A few people booed the compliment. Most just rolled their eyes or groaned. The traveler shrugged. Not that long ago, he would have resented that kind of thing. He was used to it by now. There was a whole world filled with wonders and terrors. At some point, he would have to get lucky. And really, in matters of the heart, you only needed to get lucky, really properly lucky, once.
It wasn't his fault that he had seemed to be lucky so often before being shot down. Fate merely decided he would make a good chew toy. For now, he just needed to be patient and keep to the story.
"Where were we? Ah, the second floor, weapons worn to a nub and wills more strained. If anyone else… but you understand that already. Suffice it to say, if anyone was in the position, they could never do better."
"What about that tactician?"
"What?"
"Ylissean tactician. They say they're good."
"Saw 'em once. They said right. Crazier than a cornered rat, but they could pull out miracles on command. Million man army fell. Betting your Ylisseans would have said the same, if you asked them. Deadly in a fight, too."
The traveler rolled the question along his shoulders into a full shrug.
"Perhaps. But the tactician was missing. The dead weren't. And there was no hope of rescue! One of the two mercenaries on the upper floor gritted his teeth. Without a miracle, it all came down to him. The dead weren't like women. His charm would do no good, his winning smile would be wasted. No. He would have to rely on his skill with a blade, and his deadliest weapon of all. His wits. He looked around the room, pushed his mind to the limit. His weapons weren't suited for extended battle, but perhaps… perhaps the weapons were there already!"
He paused for effect.
"The building… was a mage's study."
The audience wasn't impressed. He shook his head. He'd been too ready for a rural audience, really, the kind of people who looked on the local dark mage or wizard with awe and reverence, who took the existence of a local healer as a sign from Naga.
Mercenaries. Not the right audience at all. Some of them might be mages, and the rest, well, they weren't necessarily versed in magic, but they weren't impressed any more.
Move on, keep the flow. The story didn't need them impressed on that. It just needed them to stay with it. No problem.
"Of course, the books were worn to shreds, devoid of power after decades abandoned, and only one of the mercenaries had any talent in the magical arts…"
No need to mention which one. After all, they could guess on their own, and if they chose to go with the wrong one, well, it was their decision, not his.
"But the room was brimming with ingredients, and the mercenary suggested a brilliant plan. He would prepare a crude explosive in the shelves and cabinets of the study, and they would carve an escape path with it! He shuddered at the thought, of course. It would mean leaving others to fight in his place, but he knew he could rely on them. He only hoped they could survive without him."
Well, he could rely on the majority of them, which was good enough. The taguel, well, that was more of an open question. But with nowhere to run, they were all stuck together, at least until opportunity presented itself.
"For what felt like hours, the mercenary worked on his scheme, while his friends fought like lions to defend him. And finally, with a crack and a crash, the mercenary's plan came through. The dead fell to ribbons in the wake of the magical attack, and the four could resume their journey."
The bartender looked at the traveler and rolled her eyes as she smiled. (But she smiled. That was the important thing.)
"So, how'd you hear this one?"
"Oh, it's quite simple."
He walked over to the door, turned to the audience, and winked.
"I was one of the mercenaries."
He opened the door. A bitter wind greeted him.
He slammed the door and turned back. Right. It was cold outside.
"Er.. you said I could have a room?"
Perhaps two thousand deaths, if he's intelligent.
"Uncle Yarne is here!"
Yarne winced. Coming home was always like this. First someone would smell him coming, and then…
"Uncle Yarne!"
OOF.
Then he'd get swarmed by a horde of knee high monsters.
It was nice to not be the last of the Taguels. It really was. But it would be nicer if all the other examples weren't so eager to finish him off.
"Uncle Yarne! I went to school! It was boring!"
"Uncle Yarne! Emm said I couldn't eat a bug and she bet me a whole carrot but when I ate it she wouldn't…"
"Uncle Yarne! Lyon ate a bug and said I made him…"
Yarne shuddered. So this was the end. Cut off from every exit, drowning under the family he thought he'd never see again. It was almost…
"Dad-gum! I thought I told you little critters not to swarm your big brother like that!"
A dozen voices echoed in chorus"
"Sorry, father."
"He's just a trifle nervous about things. Don't go and jump him."
A dozen little taguels scattered, and Yarne rose from the ground.
"They nearly gave me a heart attack."
"And you nearly gave your ma and me heart attacks a few times, I reckon. Runs in the family. Like the place?"
Yarne looked around. It was certainly bigger than the last time he visited. The dirt was better packed, there were shelves on the walls… he didn't know what a warren was supposed to look like, but he suspected this wasn't far off.
"It looks safe…"
"Should be. Built it while you were gone. Robin got us some old nature books on Taguel architecture, and I thought, shucks, why can't we make something like this? Your ma and I been digging it out since we brought the harvest in. She's out checkin' the traps, by the way. You doing alright?"
"Other than nearly dying, I'm fine. You need to keep these things under control!"
"They're normally pretty well behaved. Reckon they just like seein' you too much to remember their manners."
Little Yarne stepped forward and nodded.
"We love you, uncle Yarne!"
"Yeah!"
Donnel shook.
"I'll have to set traps if you keep this up. You know that's how I met your ma."
Yarne's ears flipped shut and a dozen small taguel rolled their eyes.
"We heard that story already, daddy!"
"Yeah!"
"We want an uncle Yarne story!"
"Yeah!"
"One we haven't heard!"
"Yeah!"
"Well, Yarne's probably… I mean, he's come a long way…"
Yarne sighed.
"No. It's fine. Better for them to find out more about how the world is going to try to kill them. What kind of story do you want?"
"A good one!"
"Yeah!"
Well. That was no help. As usual. Yarne tried to think of a story he hadn't already told them, one that wouldn't make them run in circles and yell about how Yarne was so tough or some other insane attempt to send him into even more dangerous circumstances. He knew his siblings. They'd take any excuse to send him to his death. His best bet was a story set somewhere nice and safe now, somewhere the problems had been dealt with. Somewhere like…
"Have I told you about the times we nearly were killed looking for Robin?"
"Yeah!"
Lyon shook his head.
"No! That was the time he was nearly killed looking for things FOR Robin!"
"Oh."
Lyon shrugged, to show he wasn't judging any of his siblings.
"It's okay. He had a LOT of those stories."
"Because everything outside wants to kill you!"
Donnel chuckled and shook his head. He could laugh! He'd never been the last of his species!
"Laugh all you like. I almost died! See, this is why I try to tell you! Some day, you'll see!"
They wouldn't, but it sounded good.
Emm raised her hand.
"Why were you looking for Robin?"
"I said I'd help look, because…"
Honestly, he couldn't remember. If Lucina was asked, she say it was to help a friend, because he was a good man. Cynthia might have said he was a hero. But that couldn't be it. He was a coward. If he was brave, maybe he wouldn't spend so much time with his knees slamming together.
"I thought that I'd have no-one to help next time I was in trouble if I didn't at least pretend to look. I went with Kjelle, Inigo, and Severa, because I thought that no-one would attack them. I was wrong."
Younger Yarne shuddered.
"I wouldn't."
Donnel nodded in sympathy.
"We had Sully over a little bit ago. Kjelle... she's a handful."
"I can believe it. She worked me half to death on the way there! Just because I asked for a little less of a load because I was an endangered species. I was nearly keeling over when we finally found somewhere to rest. Which is why I wasn't on full alert like I normally am. I saw all the buildings were empty, and I thought that meant no-one would be after us. I relaxed!"
Yarne shuddered.
"I won't do that again."
"What happened?"
"Nothing. For most of the day we just checked abandoned buildings and argued. I was sure we were safe. Ish. I mean, you can have a rock fall on you out of the sky! But I wasn't more worried than normal."
Yarne looked out over his siblings. They were all staring at him, waiting for one of those moments he hated to even remember, and hated living through even more. For some reason, that was what they liked about his stories.
Even his younger self was waiting for it. Somehow, he had hoped for better. If anyone could have been expected to understand him, little Yarne should have. But no. He wanted to be like older Yarne when he grew up, when the whole point of telling these stories was showing that no-one should want that. Well, no point in disappointing them. Maybe one day, it would take. Until then, he'd just have to deal with things as they were.
"Then they burst out of the sands!"
"Who?"
"I didn't ask. They had swords and armor and wanted to kill us! I didn't think anything else was that important, not when they were everywhere!"
Yarne shuddered thinking back to it. People talked like battles got easier. They were insane! Every fight made him more aware of how ridiculously fragile his body was. One scratch in the wrong place, and poof! Goodbye happy life, hello eternal rest. He'd thought he was done with battles after Grima died, and there he was. Surrounded again.
"And you fought them off!"
And here he was. Surrounded again.
"I ran! Only there was nowhere to run. Pretty soon, I had to go back to find everyone else, because they might have found a way out already."
His father smiled.
"And because you couldn't abandon yer best friends."
"...I might need them to help me get away later."
Donnel was still smiling. Well, it wasn't a bad thing if his father thought he was worth something. Maybe that kind of delusion was why he and mother were still together.
"Fine. I sometimes do something vaguely heroic. But that time I was just trying to save my own skin! Pretty soon anyone outside would have been torn apart. At least running to Kjelle and Severa meant I could have someone watching my back."
"Always have a buddy!"
Little Yarne was smiling. Well, at least he managed to get one thing through his head.
"Right. Because it's not safe out there! Inigo was trying to talk us through, but he was as scared as I was, only he wouldn't admit it. Everyone with sense was scared. That's how you know you're still thinking."
Emm raised her hand.
"What about 'jelly?"
Yarne sighed.
"Kjelle isn't sane. She doesn't count."
"'kay."
Yarne looked in his little sister's eyes. She'd be crazy soon enough, it looked like. It was bad enough when he had people like that who weren't family. This was looking worse and worse. Still, he had a story to get through. He took a breath.
"So we were trapped in a corner. Now, no-one fights like a rabbit in a trap, but you're still trapped. There's nowhere to run, nowhere to hide."
"But you fought your way out!"
"I fought, sure! I wasn't crazy enough to think they'd just leave me alone if I asked! But I couldn't fight my way OUT! There were dozens of them! Probably."
"Probably?"
"I didn't stop to count! If I did, we would have been surrounded! Even fighting, we kept being chased further and further into the corners. Pretty soon, they were nearly cutting the stairs down under me! I looked out the windows, but there were more of them there!"
He shuddered again. There wasn't a single good reason to volunteer for that kind of thing. He still couldn't believe he had been that crazy. If he'd known what was coming, he would have…
He might have remembered what Robin did for him. Or how Lucina kept risking her life for his worthless hide. He might have done something very stupid anyway, knowing his luck.
"And then?"
Yarne sighed. He should have had a good ending. One that brought everything together. He could make one up. Cynthia and Owain did it all the time, and he was at least as smart as they were. Bare minimum, he had much better self preservation instincts. As in any.
But the whole thing was a blur at that point. He got out alive. So did Inigo, Severa, and Kjelle. That was what mattered, wasn't it? Probably. Definitely. Even Robin admittedly the most important thing in a battle was keeping everyone alive. Everything else was just details.
"Then everything was a nightmarish mess! I can't even remember what happened! The next thing I knew for sure, we were all outside the city, and Inigo was saying that we won!"
Emm nodded.
"'serker rage."
All of his other siblings started nodding along.
Lyon's ears flopped.
"You never remember what happened then!"
Little Yarne shuddered.
"He must have ripped through all of them."
"Yeah!"
Yarne shook his head.
"It wasn't like that! Really! I'm sure someone else did something. I'm only good at the hundred yard dash!"
But his siblings were already arguing about what he'd done in his moments of terrifying brilliance.
"Axe! Berserkers use axes!"
"No, he ripped 'em aparat with his hands! Like mom says Taguel used to do!"
"Kicks! Kicks!"
"Axe!"
Yarne turned to his father, chuckling.
"Laugh all you like! I nearly died!"
"We all nearly died one time or another. But I reckon it ain't happening again any time soon. Yer kin are gonna grow up safe and strong. Listenin' to you is the only way they'll be able to feel like they went out and had the action you did."
"Action? All I got was a lot of too near death experiences!"
"I know. And you know. But they're growin' up safe. Best I can figure, that means they get to grow up liking dangerous without really getting hurt. Don't think we should get in the way of that."
Yarne tried to smile.
"Don't worry. I'd never want to get in the way of anything dangerous again."
Words sharp as a dagger
Cordelia looked out the window into the sea of mud.
In six months, it would be a training field. She'd been sketching it over and over, with every imperfection ironed out, every possible flaw removed. Six months, give or take, and she would have a perfect tribute to her fallen comrades and her friends still living, a tool to forge raw drive into victory and soldiers into Ylisse's finest knights.
Unfortunately, that would have to wait. Right now, she was on restricted exercise, just because she was pregnant. No training with the knights. No work on the field. Barely any way to aid her country and her lord, when they still needed her. When they needed her most, her and every other pegasus knight, scout, and other trained search team. She should have planned better, but… well, she had said that she was putting something ahead of Chrom for once. The gods just had to go and put it to the test.
If she was of weaker constitution, this would be the sort of thing that would drive her insane. As it was, she sat. And waited. And watched.
The rain patterns shifted. No. Wait. The rain in the puddles shifted, but the rain in the air was the same. Someone was approaching, slamming the ground with their boot like they had a grudge.
Ylisse was at peace.
There was no reason to assume there was a threat, not really. Few were left alive who had real quarrel with Ylisse. Fewer still could actually do anything with it. And if someone was in both categories, why would they go after her instead of Chrom or Lissa or another member of the royal family?
She looked down at her hands. Apparently, none of those questions mattered. She already had a small axe out.
Really, she'd need to make sure those were safely put away before Severa's birth. The girl might grow up to be a great mercenary, but children should not be left with sharp weapons. Chrom had stories about Lucina, and they were the first thing that made her glad she'd never asked him out. The man should, perhaps, not be trusted with children.
Well, she might not have a reason for fears, but she could set them at ease. All she'd have to do was look at the trail. Robin had talked with her about it once. How to tell what kind of enemy you were facing from the impact on the ground, the bootprints, the sound of the rain.
She wasn't in a good position to see her visitor, but she could make some guesses. Moderate weight armor, swordsman's stance from the footprints. Mercenary? Veteran mercenary. A slight limp, like she'd come from a fight. Nothing that couldn't be fixed with some rest, but right now she was moving on battlefield first aid.
Cordelia pulled her axe tighter. Whoever this was, they were trained. They were willing to kill. They were armed. And her husband was away.
Well.
This was going to be interesting. Cordelia moved into position and watched. The door groaned against a kick. Multiple kicks. She was facing down a problem.
"MOTHER!"
Or it was her daughter on a return visit. Cordelia sighed and let her axe clatter on the floor, then removed the lock.
"Hello, Severa."
The door smashed into the wall and Severa entered with the same force.
"Guess what happened!"
Cordelia decided not to guess. Severa asked that sort of question from time to time, and she never appreciated a response. Instead, she made a sympathetic expression and a matching noise.
"EXACTLY! Ugh. Ugh. Ugh! They wouldn't have done that to YOU. Noooo. Not to Miss Perfect. They let you sit at home while the rest of us have to work in the miserable sun and the mud! "
Severa turned to Cordelia who was trying very hard not to say anything.
"And I know you're going to say that you want to be out there too, and oh, it's an HONOR, and it's not like you didn't volunteer. And fine! Robin is worth looking for, and maybe it's GOOD that I was there some those idiots didn't kill themselves. And maybe if I was BETTER, then none of this would happen, but noooo, they couldn't get you! They were stuck with me, and now everything is just PERFECT."
Severa sat fuming for a few seconds. Cordelia coughed.
"Is… that all?"
"No. But I want to save some for father once he gets here. Ugh."
"Do you want to tell me what happened?"
Severa smiled.
"No. Of course not. Ugh."
"Well, if you…"
"But if you insist… I guess I could tell you. Only so little Severa hears and won't ever do anything so stupid."
Cordelia smiled back.
"Of course."
"Exactly. Because you're an awful mother and I hate you and I have no idea why anyone likes you. What do you know already from being an obnoxious meddling know-it-all?"
"You were looking for Robin."
"Wow. You aren't even good at being a know-it-all. Fine. So, just because I'd dealt with the idiots before, I was told to go with Yarne and Inigo down south to search there instead of somewhere nice with Morgan or Lucina. I guess someone had to make sure they could actually do a job right."
Severa paused to offer an opening for an insult. Cordelia let it slip past without comment.
Severa rolled her eyes.
"Which is why Kjelle came along. Gawds, why do I even try to bicker with you. You just sit there and take it! I might as well yell at a brick wall."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize! It only makes it worse! Still not as bad as spending DAYS with Yarne and Inigo. I mean, gah. Every five minutes Inigo was hitting on someone, or Yarne was talking about how we were all going to die, or something else stupid. I tried to commiserate with Kjelle, but she didn't exactly want to talk. Not that I blamed her."
"Mmm."
"Exactly! And it was worse in towns. I thought Yarne was going to ditch every fifteen seconds, Inigo had even more people to be obnoxious at… It was a relief when we found a ghost town in the middle of the desert. Nowhere for Yarne to run, no-one for Inigo to talk to, nothing to worry about and a few nice dresses and accessories that people just went and left behind."
"I'm glad you found something nice?"
"Ha. Nice. That never happens to me.I was just starting to relax, like YOU get to all the time, when Yarne came running and screaming. I didn't do anything because, ugh, Yarne, it was probably nothing and who can afford to waste time on that, right?"
Cordelia nodded. Not enough to agree, but just the right level to show she understood how her daughter felt and only wished her the best.
It took a long time to balance that gesture, with more than one conversation ruined because Severa was sure her mother was being sarcastic, and why did she even bother. But it all paid off in the end. Well, it seemed to pay off. Severa was still talking, at any rate.
"So Yarne is running and screaming, but then I see that half a dozen bandits are after him. And, get this. They're wearing Risen masks!"
"Like from the fair?"
"Like the ones Lissa bought! They're running around with swords and axes and looking like they should be asking for candy. So, I get up and try to ask why they're bothering us, but they just run after me, and I get blood ALL OVER the new bow I bought last week and UGH, UGH, UGH."
"Mmm."
"Exactly! And then Yarne was screaming how there were too many and we were all doomed and hello? Kjelle and I were right there. Like we couldn't handle it. And then Inigo had to go and say something stupid so we just HAD to fall back. So, we were all sweaty and gross and tired and stuck upstairs. And everyone was too 'busy' to even make sure no-one was setting up another ambush, so I had to go first. And guess what happened next?"
Cordelia decided not to guess.
"Exactly! I had to stuff a dead wizard's body into a chest so that Yarne didn't go into another panic spiral!"
And Cordelia saw why she didn't even try to guess. That was… not where she thought the story was going.
"What?"
"It's not like I killed him. I think he just had a heart attack or something stupid and everyone was too scared of him to go there after. So I jammed the body into an empty chest and covered the blood with his robe before Yarne and Inigo came in. And then Inigo asked why there was so much bat poop everywhere, like it wasn't obvious. Hello! Wizards who don't care about actually keeping up basic standards love keeping spell parts out so they can run experiments or whatever. Duh."
"I'm not sure anyone told Inigo about the dark arts growing up."
"Well, maybe someone should have, if only so he wouldn't go poking everything like an idiot. So I told him it would make an explosion, and then he just said he had a plan."
Cordelia winced.
"I suspect it didn't go well."
"He threw dead wizard at them! Just a huge chest full of dead wizard, thrown right out of the window. He's lucky that the lunatic had put curses on his body so that it started spewing out blood into some kind of gross THING after one of the bandits poked at it with a sword."
"That… sounds like a dark mage."
"I know. So everyone was looking away and Kjelle was too busy trying to hold the stairs, and what was I going to do? Just try to explain what was going on when I had no idea? Gag me with a trebuchet! And then we had to do cleanup, and blurgh. No way I was going to do it."
"And then you came back?"
"I wish. We searched for a few more weeks after that, getting even sweatier and no-one had any training in healing magic, so I had to walk on a sprain, and basically everything is awful forever, and it's all my fault."
"You mean my fault."
Severa shook her head.
"Exactly. It's all your fault, for being such a bad mother. Also I hate you."
"Of course. It's what I'm here for."
Death of no value
They didn't have a name for the village. It never seemed worth the trouble. It never seemed worth the risk.
A name made people remember a village. Kings could draw taxes and armies, enemies would make it suffer, the gods would send plague or famine. Names brought misery.
Oh, names also brought fame and glory, but that seldom seemed to do the dead much good. It brought wealth, but it always seemed to fill the tombs, not the houses.
The nameless village had survived three wars and the rebirth of a god by staying in the shadows. It had a blank space on maps and full fields. Its neighbors had names on maps and full graves. On the whole, a fair bargain. They thought the world had forgotten them, and were happier that way.
Then the knight arrived. A young woman, battered and torn, but still strong. Unbreakable. And they knew the village would soon have a name. There was a weight about her that would never be supported by a nameless spot.
Most of the village hid away. A woman approached the knight. Someone would have to, before the place burned.
"M...Milady? What does King Gangrel need from us?"
"Not much. He's dead. So's his replacement."
"...Oh."
The woman opened her mouth to question the knight further. The knight waved her off.
"I don't care. Where's the nearest blacksmith? My armor is damaged.."
"At the end of the road, milady."
"Good."
"...May I ask what happened?"
"A fight."
The knight's tone ended any further questions.
"Oh."
She spent the night in town at an anvil with the forge's light burning. And, in the morning, she was gone, and the weight with her.
She didn't leave a story. She didn't take a name. The only monument to her visit was a few smears of blood and the smell of hot iron.
The woman didn't know the knight. But somehow, she knew it was the proper marker.
(AN: And that's the set. Sorry for the delays. It's... not the fastest I've worked. No excuses, just the way it shook out.
I don't have that much to say this time. Just thought that multiple angles on the same incident might work out well in the writing. Only hope you agree on that count.
Thanks for reading, hope you liked, and take care. )