Chapter Four: The Meaning of Sacrifice
Twigs crunched loudly beneath my feet as I ran full out between trees and rocks, scattering all manner of animals with my passage. I was about as stealthy as a galloping horse. Fortunately, the enemies I was trying to avoid were either inattentive or too far away to hear my ruckus. I sprinted out onto the top of a sheer cliff and knelt down to look.
On the road below the cliff face was a column of Plegian soldiers marching back towards the border. Many of these men were Gangrel's own, handpicked for their ruthlessness and loyalty to the Mad King. They complained loudly amongst themselves that they hadn't had a chance to stop in a town for three days, but discipline was good enough to prevent any brawls from breaking out. Somewhere in the middle of that column were Exalt Emmeryn and her escort.
Gods, how had things managed to go so wrong so fast?
The Exalt had departed Ylisstol the morning after the assassination attempt, heading east with Chrom and his Shepherds escorting her. However, she'd turned back after a skirmish with Plegian soldiers, who had infiltrated far into Ylisse. Chrom had travelled north into Regna Ferox to discuss the coming war with the Khans and assemble their troops, leaving Emmeryn with only Phila and a handful of Pegasus Knights to go back to Ylisstol.
Why had Chrom let her go? He had to have known what was going to happen. The Exalt had scarcely arrived back in the city before the Plegian army got there and demanded that she surrender in exchange for them not sacking Ylisstol. Being Emmeryn, she had accepted their terms and was now on her way to Plegia in chains for her trouble.
I knew what was happening. The timeline was trying to reassert itself, to erase my corrections and return to the path of destruction. There was no doubt in my mind that Gangrel would execute Emmeryn. Chrom's assessment of the Mad King had been all too accurate. He was more a beast than a man, a wild animal without a place among honest people. Such a man would only ever know peace in his grave.
The only good news was that the Fire Emblem was safely in Chrom's possession. It was a terrible way to look at the situation, but in terms of averting Grima's return the Emblem's security was more important than Emmeryn's life. There was, however, a significant risk that Chrom might try to barter it for his sister. In all likelihood Gangrel would accept the deal, take the Emblem and then kill Emmeryn anyways.
I'd begun shadowing the Plegian force immediately after I'd found out what had happened. They were supremely confident in their strength, not bothering to send outriders or use their wyvern soldiers to scout the area. It allowed me to remain unseen while travelling at speed, but I still wasn't sure just what I could accomplish here.
Originally I had hoped that if I followed them long enough, I could infiltrate their camp and rescue Emmeryn in a moment of carelessness. But although the Plegian soldiers might be brutish thugs, they still surrounded the Exalt with guards each night. I had been fighting against mindless Risen far longer than I'd been fighting against thinking human beings, and it showed. There didn't seem to be much I could do except keep on their trail and wait for a chance to act.
They passed the border without incident and were well on their way to Plegia Castle, yet still no opportunity came. I began to feel like I was wasting my time, but I didn't know what else to do. It was much harder for me to blend in without suspicion in the villages of Plegia, but I did manage to keep myself supplied. Rumors were much scarcer here, the people eternally gloomy and downtrodden. This was what became of a nation in which the Grimleal were the primary religion. I could practically feel the lifelessness of this place. It disturbed me on a very deep level.
I had never enjoyed my time spent in Plegia, even in my own world. It was a realm of blazing hot deserts and tall mountains that did not suit me. Blinding sandstorms were all too common here, and one such storm arose as I followed the Plegian soldiers back to their master.
It seemed that Chrom had gotten word of his sister's fate, since what little I did overhear suggested that the Feroxi army was invading Plegia from the north. No doubt Chrom and his Shepherds were the vanguard, desperately pushing for Gangrel's location before he had a chance to make use of his captive.
Whatever speed they were moving at, it wasn't nearly fast enough. The Plegian column entered the castle courtyard without incident, and Gangrel wasted no time. As soon as he had his subjects assembled to witness his triumph, Emmeryn was paraded in front of them in chains and preparations for a swift execution were made. I managed to hide myself on a hilltop just outside the entrance to the courtyard, but though it afforded me a good position I could not approach any closer without being seen by the Plegians.
Partially buried in the mountain that flanked Plegia Castle on one side was an enormous skeleton, the last remnant of some unknown creature of antiquity. I had seen it in my own time, and even then I had wondered about just what it was that could leave such a colossal edifice of bone. I had felt, and still do, that it was linked somehow to Grima – though I don't know how. It was on top of this massive skeleton that they took Emmeryn.
A burly Plegian soldier with an axe followed behind the Exalt, pushing her further and further out onto one of the skeleton's extremities. She was clearly visible to everyone watching from the courtyard and further beyond. A fall from that height would kill her, though I rather doubted Gangrel intended to leave it to chance.
The Mad King couldn't pass up an opportunity to gloat, of course. I was too far away to hear him clearly, which may well have been for the best. What little I did catch was simply Gangrel crowing about how the wicked Exalt was being punished for her atrocities against humble Plegia, of which there had been none. Did anyone, even Gangrel himself, really believe a word he said? It seemed ridiculous, but I suppose some people can trick themselves into believing anything. This was a nation full of people who worshipped a dragon bent on destroying them, after all.
In the midst of Gangrel's boasting, I noticed figures materializing out of the swirling sand like ghosts. The castle courtyard was cut off from the desert proper by a long stone wall, and on the other side of the wall Plegian soldiers were being cut down one after another. Gangrel seemed to realize that they were under attack and signaled for the executioner to kill Emmeryn.
I had to squint to see it, but one of the attackers on the other side of the wall wound up and hurled something far upwards to where Emmeryn was. It was difficult to believe that such a throw was possible – the sheer distance and height it had to travel was immense. Yet the tiny object, a throwing axe, arced true and buried itself in the neck of the man behind Emmeryn. He lost his balance and plummeted off the skeleton to the ground.
All control of the situation was lost at that point. Plegian soldiers surged out of the courtyard, but with the sand obscuring their vision they couldn't strike back without exposing themselves. To make things worse for them, it was evident that they were under attack from more than one direction. After losing several squads the remainder pulled back into the entrance to the courtyard and awaited their enemies.
Sure enough, the Shepherds advanced out of the sand in formation with Chrom leading the way. They would've had to maintain an exhausting pace all the way across Plegia to get here in time, yet it didn't seem to be affecting them. The knowledge that their beloved Exalt was in danger must have spurred them onwards. Yet this was clearly no headlong rush – they had a plan, probably crafted by Destin for just this situation, and they executed it brilliantly.
The Plegian soldiers eagerly marched to meet them, the wyvern riders they'd been holding back swooping down on the attackers. A barrage of wind spells shot forth from the Shepherds' line, knocking the beasts and their riders out of the sky and forcing the few remaining to go to ground in order to avoid a similar fate. The two sides met in a clash of steel, and it quickly became apparent that the Plegians had underestimated their enemies. The Plegian force practically dissolved to my eyes, and the Shepherds continued their advance unimpeded.
It had taken this long for Gangrel to visibly realize that things were going badly for him. He appeared ready to flee back up the hill to his castle along with the dark woman beside him, but before he could even begin he was knocked to the ground by a squad of Ylissean Pegasus Knights coming from his own fortress. Phila and the rest of her company had been freed from their imprisonment, and now rose towards the Exalt.
I was more than a little impressed. Assuming this was Destin's strategy playing out before me, it was clear now why the Shepherds obeyed him so easily. Launching a multi-pronged offensive using the enemy's own terrain against him was no small feat. Even as I watched, Chrom and the Shepherds broke through the final Plegian line and entered the courtyard to confront Gangrel. It looked as though they had the situation under control on their own.
Of course, time would never consent to change so easily.
The sand of the courtyard gathered and took form as though sculpted by the hand of a god. What had been empty air seconds ago was filled with scores of Risen archers, and more were appearing with each passing second. They raised their bows and loosed towards Emmeryn's position without hesitation.
Phila had reached the Exalt and was just reaching out to Emmeryn when an arrow penetrated through her breast plate from behind. Two more struck her mount, sending the magnificent beast plummeting to the ground. The other Pegasus Knights suffered similar fates. They desperately ducked and dodged, but there was simply no avoiding the hail of arrows that was being unleashed.
Chrom and the Shepherds moved forward as though to charge the Risen, but a shouted command from Gangrel brought them up short as the undead archers turned as one and aimed their arrows at the Exalt. The point was clear – continue their attack and Emmeryn would die.
Eyes wide, I tore my gaze off the drama playing out in the courtyard long enough to take a look around. More Plegian soldiers were arriving in the area from virtually all directions. If this impasse continued much longer, my father and his companions would be completely surrounded and would have no choice but to surrender.
Tense words were spoken between Chrom and Gangrel. Obviously Gangrel wanted the Fire Emblem in exchange for him not killing Emmeryn, but Chrom surely knew that the Mad King was not to be trusted. Gangrel became increasingly aggressive, making wild and threatening gestures. Chrom kept looking down at the golden Emblem, which he had taken to wearing as a shield on his arm. He was deciding in his head which was more important, his sister or the Emblem… and I knew which he would choose.
I had to do something. The way things were unfolding Grima would be freed sooner than in my time, and the situation would become even worse than what I had faced. I ran from my hiding spot to get closer, but an echoing yell brought me up short.
"ENOUGH!" Emmeryn shouted. All eyes turned to her precarious perch. I could scarcely have imagined such a gentle woman raising her voice like this. "King Gangrel, is there no chance you will see reason?"
"Reason? You mean more of your self-righteous nonsense!?" Gangrel spat. "No, I think I'd much rather see the Emblem in my hands and your corpse on the ground."
"Then I will do as I must," Emmeryn called down. She drew herself up and spread her hands wide. "Listen to my words, all of you. War brings nothing but pain and sorrow. We are all of us trapped in a never-ending cycle of hatred. Free yourselves! Plegia! Ylisse! See how one selfless act has the power to change the world!"
Emmeryn closed her eyes and pitched forward off of the gigantic skeleton. Chrom sprinted to the spot she would fall in an attempt to catch her, but the distance was simply too vast. He would not make it in time. I might have expected screams and cries, given the enormity of the moment, but there was dead silence as the Exalt fell. The Shepherds, the Plegian soldiers, even the Risen – everyone just… watched.
I averted my eyes in the instant before she would hit the ground. "Ah, gods. I'm sorry Emmeryn," I murmured. Time was determined to see her dead, and I had failed to stop it. A single tear leaked out of my eye. I had wanted to save this kind woman so much, but I had failed.
When at last I looked up again, the situation had changed. The Shepherds, augmented by a squad of Feroxi soldiers that had just arrived, were withdrawing from the courtyard. Khan Basilio and Destin were forcibly dragging Chrom away from his sister's body. The Plegian forces that had been closing in around them were still in position to attack, but they did not. They all continued staring at the spot where Emmeryn had fallen, totally ignoring the Shepherds as they slipped right out from under them.
Gangrel noticed what was happening and threw a fit, angrily gesturing at the fleeing Ylisseans and shouting for his men to kill them. They still did not move. Only after the retreating Shepherds had disappeared into the desert did they act, and for a third of them this only amounted to disgustedly throwing down their weapons and wandering away from their units. The remaining men began marching slowly in the direction the Shepherds had gone in.
While the Mad King continued his furious tirade, his companion walked over and looked down curiously at the Exalt's body. Whatever she saw there affected her greatly; she shivered despite the heat and hugged herself tightly. She collected herself in a moment or two, regaining her haughty bearing and returning to Gangrel.
What was there left for me to do here?
Emmeryn was dead, and there was no changing that. My father still carried the Fire Emblem thanks to her sacrifice. It had been kept out of Gangrel's hands for the moment. With the Plegian army demoralized and unwilling to fight, the Shepherds would surely escape from Plegia intact. But what would happen then? The war between Plegia and Ylisse in my time had not happened like this at all. I was in uncharted territory, and without the knowledge of what was to come that I had relied on up until this point I didn't know what to do.
Eventually I decided to follow behind the Shepherds and head north. I doubted that I'd be able to catch up to them now, but any further battles would happen on the border between Regna Ferox and Plegia. Ylisse, with nearly all of its military might occupied miles away from its own territory and its beloved Exalt dead, was no longer a concern for the Mad King. He wanted the Fire Emblem, and without a hostage to hold against Chrom he would have to pry it out of my father's cold, dead hands. A prospect that no doubt excited him.
My mood was already dark, and the rain that began shortly after I left Plegia Castle only made it worse. I hadn't expected rain in the desert, yet the drops fell heavily as I made my way north. It was fitting in a way, as though the skies themselves were weeping for Emmeryn.
I couldn't help but wonder what the effect of this changed death would have on my father and his companions. From what I understood, Chrom had rallied our people into a narrow victory over Plegia following Emmeryn's assassination in my own time. Her name had become the battle cry for Ylisse as the Shepherds marched on Plegia to avenge her murder. But this timeline's Emmeryn had cast aside her own life in a final attempt at peace, and to save Chrom from an impossible decision. What would that do to him?
As I travelled, I looked around for anything that would tell me what had happened. All signs indicated that the Shepherds had escaped from Plegia – though not without a fight. They must have made good time at least, for as I neared the border with Regna Ferox I saw no sign of them.
It was late in the day, and I had reached my limit. I needed to find somewhere to rest for the night, though the idea of taking shelter anywhere in Plegia made me feel uneasy. This was enemy territory, after all. Fortunately, I spotted a clearly abandoned watch tower situated on a hill only a few miles south of the border. Closer investigation found it dilapidated, but sufficient for my needs. The Plegians who had abandoned it had even left some blankets behind.
I lay in my appropriated shelter thinking about the day's events. Thus far my intervention had achieved little. If any action I took to create a better future would be answered with such a brutal response, I would only be making things worse. I had no idea how I could possibly fight against time itself without getting involved directly. It seemed an impossible task.
Yet changes had been made as a result of my actions. The war was playing out differently, and my father was both in good health and in possession of the Fire Emblem. Would these alterations be corrected as well, or was I only seeing the beginning of a chain reaction that would lead to our victory?
I was worried. I no longer knew what tomorrow would hold.