Chapter Sixteen: End of an Empire

I stood, awestruck, as the sound of the dynasts' army cheering washed over me. It was beyond my ability to comprehend; here were the very men whose betrayal had pushed us into a corner at Steiger, shouting their support for us. I was not alone in my confusion; many of the faces around me showed similar disbelief.

"It doesn't absolve them for what they did," Destin said as he walked up beside me. Blood had spattered his coat in various places, though he seemed unhurt. "But it sure feels good to have someone support us for a change."

"Don't tell me you predicted this too?" I asked in exasperation.

"Not exactly," he admitted. "But what Excellus said about Yen'fay got me thinking about the real reason the dynasts were fighting for Walhart. It wasn't fear of Walhart that drove them, but fear - and respect - of Yen'fay."

Understanding grew in me as I surveyed the still distant army. "So now that he's dead, they're willing to defy Walhart?"

"Likely due to our continued victories against all odds." The tactician flashed a wry smile at me. "It probably doesn't hurt that I arranged for Say'ri's rebel contacts to carry messages containing the truth about Yen'fay far and wide. Once they realized that he did everything for his little sister's sake, they'd see it as a lack of respect for his sacrifice to do anything but help her."

I still couldn't help but feel anger towards them, even if they were on our side now. Who knows how the war would've turned out if not for their turning on us? Basilio might even have survived, since he wouldn't have had to risk himself to delay Walhart. But, I supposed, there was little use in thinking of ifs and maybes. What we needed to do was make the best of the situation we had.

"I don't suppose this means they're actually willing to fight for us?"

Destin shook his head. "It's not as though I'd send them to fight against Walhart's elite guard anyways. I'm sure you remember the poor quality of their troops from Steiger; they'd get massacred. Which might be poetic justice, but wouldn't really help us."

"So it's still our job to take the castle," I said, suppressing a sigh. "Are you certain we're up to this? We took significant damage in that last melee."

"Have to be, don't we? Anyone who's too badly hurt to fight can stay outside. The remaining Valmese are few in number, and we can't use everyone inside the castle proper anyways. Those corridors are too narrow for all of us."

Of course, this was the Shepherds, not some ordinary unit. The few of us who were too badly wounded to go inside had to be physically restrained to prevent them from going anyways. We left Flavia with the bulk of the army, so they could sweep up the mess and make sure there would be no surprises at the last minute. I for one didn't trust the dynasts, even if they were ostensibly on our side now.

We advanced into Walhart's castle cautiously, but the entrance hall was empty when we arrived. Destin quickly sent small parties onwards to scout while the rest of us recovered and prepared ourselves for the battle ahead. I sought out my father to make sure that he was alright, though I suspected nothing could keep him away from this fight. Thankfully, he was only tired, although even that could prove fatal against Walhart. Having faced the Conqueror's might myself, I wondered how they would stack up against each other.

The scouts returned with the news that most of the castle was similarly empty, save a few servants brave enough to remain. All of Walhart's remaining troops were in the area of the great hall. It made tactical sense for them to concentrate the few forces they had left, but it also made things simpler for us. It also made the notion of a counterattack by the Valmese all but impossible. They would stand until they were wiped out.

While orders were being passed to converge on the great hall, I took a few moments to look around. In size and grandeur it completely eclipsed the castle in Ylisse, but there was something distinctly unwelcoming about it. Perhaps it was my own sensibilities, but the militaristic design and unnecessary luxury felt oppressive to me. It was, however, perfect for someone like Walhart.

I noticed Severa standing by herself, away from the main group. That wasn't unusual by itself, but the tightness in her expression told me that something was bothering her. Since she was one of the most recent of my comrades to join the Shepherds I was fairly certain I knew what it was. I approached her.

"Coming to check on me, P-princess?" She asked snarkily. "Well, I can tell you there's no need. I'm just f-fine." So she said, but the nervous stutter betrayed her.

"Severa, it's okay. I know you're probably having a hard time killing other people like this. It took me years to get used to, and even now I don't like it." She was trying to look away, but I leaned in until she had no choice but to meet my eyes. "We're all in this together. There's no shame in relying on your friends."

"...I know that," Severa muttered. "I know, okay? I just didn't want you worrying your little royal head about me. But you did anyways. That's just so... you."

"Thank you, Severa," I replied. "To me that's a great compliment." I decided to leave it at that, returning to the main group that was now readying itself outside the main entrance to the great hall. I found the tactician I was looking for at the front, craning his head around the wall to examine the enemy's defenses. After a moment, he whistled softly, then quickly withdrew.

"Astonishing," he said quietly. "I do believe that's the same general we fought at the Mila Tree. How could he have possibly survived? Well, if even Chrom couldn't hurt him then there's no point going after him with normal weapons." He gave orders for the majority of our offensive spellcasters to gather here in the corridor while others swept the area.

It wasn't long before they assembled. Tharja, Miriel, Ricken, and Laurent waited to one side. The rest of us closed tightly around them so we could hear the plan.

"It's simple enough," Destin said. "We burst out into the hall and hit them, then fall back into the corridor before they can counter. Mages stay hidden on either side. Wait for the armored knights to get to the intersection, then smash them with everything you've got."

With everything arranged, a few of us followed the tactician up the steps and into the hall proper. It was vast, and as we entered I could barely make out Walhart himself sitting on his throne on a dais at the far end. But right now, my attention was on the Valmese troops in front of us. Fire spells and arrows shot from our group, a few Valmese haphazardly returning fire before we retreated back into the corridor.

Sure enough, a rush of clanking footsteps announced the enemy's charge. I paused long enough to cut one who'd run ahead down before continuing the retreat. The press of heavily armored knights reached the intersection with the mustachioed general in the lead. He shouted something that sounded like "Come at me, you rebellious curs!" in the moment before magic converged on them from three sides. I shielded my eyes from the sudden burst of light, and when it cleared there was little still recognizable as a human body.

The Valmese who had been bringing up the rear were stunned by what had just occurred, and offered little resistance as we stormed into the hall. A second large cordon of soldiers was stationed roughly halfway down, at another intersection where side corridors branched away.

Destin and I took cover behind a nearby statue, while he motioned for the others to do likewise. He looked ahead, narrowing his eyes. "Someone go get Say'ri," he said without turning.

The second group was led by the familiar, squat figure of Excellus. My blood boiled at the very sight of him. Even if Walhart was the enemy, he deserved some measure of respect for the strength of his convictions. This sad excuse for a man did not.

Most of the troops with him were lightly armored, archers and mages comprising the majority. It would be difficult to approach, but once we broke through the thin line of soldiers at the front the fight would be over quickly. I spared a glance past them to where Walhart waited with another handful of guards. Would he charge once we'd engaged Excellus, as he had on the field outside? It wouldn't be nearly as effective, but it might still give us problems.

"You called for me?" Say'ri had arrived, her usual grim determination seemingly magnified.

"I did. Take a look ahead," Destin said. Say'ri complied, then hissed when her eyes found Excellus. "He's yours if you want him," Destin went on casually. "I thought I'd give you the first chance. If not, rest assured that I'll deal with him."

"I would be only too pleased to bring his end," she said, her eyes suddenly blazing. One hand dropped to Amatsu's hilt, loosening her brother's sword in its scabbard. "Vengeance for Yen'fay."

I'd wanted the chance to kill that smug toad myself, but I certainly couldn't deny that Say'ri had the greater right to his head. Witnessing his death would be good enough.

Destin signaled back to the rest of our troops in the hall, who formed up and began advancing. Excellus and his men did not move to contest us, remaining confidently in the middle of the room. Did he have some scheme ready to meet us? This man was supposed to have been Walhart's tactician after all, though from what we'd seen so far he did little but blackmail people into fighting for the Conqueror. In an actual engagement, he was nothing impressive.

Projectiles began flying between the two sides, though little real damage was being done. Healing staves flashed behind the lines as we advanced to within a dozen paces of Excellus's group. The Valmese at the front readied their weapons and shields to meet us, surprise appearing on their faces when Destin sent a red light into the air. Our line split to either side, leaving plenty of open space in the middle.

"Walhart's got his horse in there," Destin had said before we'd engaged. "Why not us?"

Our cavalry thundered past me at a charge, hammering into the Valmese troops. They penetrated the thin front line with ease, then spread bloody chaos amongst the enemy mages. The rest of us were right behind them, finishing the disorganized survivors one by one. In their midst, Excellus unleashed a huge ball of fire at us, evidently not caring that he would roast his own men as well.

Destin stepped forward, meeting the fire with a skein of crackling lightning. The shockwave of the two spells meeting was fierce, but they dissipated each other after a few moments. The tactician's defense didn't seem to faze Excellus.

"You fools," he gloated, "You've trapped yourselves!"

His smug grin faltered as the sounds of battle began emanating from both of the side halls. Destin had assigned separate groups to move down the corridors and hold the other entrances to the hall in case of a flanking maneuver, and now they were engaged with whatever ambush troops Excellus had held in reserve. The help he'd expected wouldn't be coming.

"That's it?" Destin asked incredulously. "It's no wonder Walhart lost – he relied on an incompetent."

"Die!" Excellus shrieked, his hands releasing another massive surge of fire magic at Destin.

Wind gathered around Destin's form, his upraised hand sending it outwards to deflect the fire away. Excellus seemed on the verge of casting again when a blur streaked out from our midst and past the spot where the magic had converged. The toad-like man turned hastily to redirect his aim, but Say'ri's blade lashed out and took his right hand clean off before he could attack.

He reeled, falling backwards onto the floor while letting out a piteous scream. By the time he looked up again, Say'ri had her sword pressed against his throat.

"No, wait, I-"

He got no further before Amatsu decapitated him. The headless corpse sank to the ground, blood pooling around it. I walked to Say'ri's side; she was breathing heavily and staring down at Excellus's ugly head, though after a long moment she nodded to herself and looked up again. A weight had already lifted from her shoulders, it seemed.

We'd swept the Valmese troops aside with relative ease, but some of us had still taken wounds beyond what staves could heal. Others had succumbed to exhaustion, the rigors of back-to-back grueling battles proving too much for them. Less than a dozen of us were left in the group that marched forward to face Walhart. He had left his throne, and was now sitting astride his warhorse, waiting for us.

"You do your sister's legacy proud, Prince," his voice echoed through the hall. "But humanity already has a savior. A conqueror who broke stronger men than you when they refused to kneel."

"Where are they now, Walhart?" My father asked. "You stand alone, a sad fate for a brave man. It doesn't have to end like this."

Walhart's answering laughter boomed. "What? Perhaps you'd have me join you? You believe all conflicts can be resolved peacefully – that is why you are weak. Too weak to do what must be done. Too weak to save this world. Come forward, Prince, and meet your end!"

Only those close to him would've heard my father murmur "Sorry, Emm, I tried." Then he raised Falchion and pointed it at Walhart. "And the same to you. Your reign is over!"

Both sides charged, meeting in the final combat of this miserable war. Chrom strode calmly up the middle, Destin a step behind him. It seemed they intended to take Walhart themselves. For a moment I thought about following, but what use would I be? I doubted I could do any more to the Conqueror than I had on the field outside. No, it was better to take care of his remaining guards and trust the rest to my father.

Though that was easier said than done. Even the Shepherds who had stayed for this were tired, and I was no exception. As a result, my strikes and parries were becoming sloppy. My attempted stop thrust against a Valmese axeman went wide, and only ramming him with my shoulder prevented me from being hit by his return swing. I finished him off with a slash across his eyes, but all around me my companions were struggling.

There was no sign of that weakness in the fight happening in the middle of the hall. Walhart had apparently learned his lesson about staying still, as he wheeled this way and that, striking out each time his horse took him past my father. Chrom took each blow in turn, the ringing of Falchion's edge clashing against Walhart's axe echoing all about us.

A spiralling ball of wind shot past Chrom and slammed into Walhart's side, nearly knocking him from his horse. He righted himself in time to block Chrom's slash with his shield, then continued his previous charge, which took him towards Destin. The tactician didn't even try to block or parry, he simply rolled out of range of Walhart's swing. The Conqueror rode past, wheeling as he approached the wall with a barrage of lightning bolts following him.

I tore my attention away from my father and Destin's fight. Another of Walhart's guards fell to my blade. Kjelle was backed against a statue nearby, a Valmese soldier pressing against her shield with his sword. I sprinted over and ran him through from behind. The last few enemies went down, leaving Walhart alone. I don't think any of us were in a condition that we could join that fight. The Shepherds who hadn't retreated spread out against the wall, staring on as the war came to its end.

If Walhart had noticed that he was the last Valmese standing, he gave no sign of it. If anything, he fought even more ferociously, a horrible, maddened grin forming on his face as he swung his axe. A magical explosion consumed him as he turned, but he came charging out of the smoke without slowing down. This time it was the horse that attacked, its armored flank crashing into my father. He was thrown backwards, Falchion nearly slipping out of his hand.

Time stood still for me as Walhart's axe descended. My father was too far off balance to defend himself, and Destin wasn't in a position to stop the blow. His left hand shot up, lightning magic gathering to strike, but that wouldn't save Chrom. It wouldn't have, if it had been directed at Walhart at all.

The lance of lightning struck Walhart's horse full in the side, the animal jerking horrifically as it reared back before collapsing to the floor. The Conqueror's swing had never connected, his mount's sudden motion having thrown his aim off. He slowly extricated himself from the horse's body, awkwardly limping on his right leg.

Even then, the Conqueror didn't falter. He resumed his assault on Chrom, his crimson axe meeting Falchion's edge again and again. He was probably in great pain from the injury he'd just received, yet he showed little sign of it. Despite the limp, Walhart used the offensive to keep my father between him and Destin, leaving him unable to use magic without the risk of hitting Chrom as well. Irritation was beginning to show through his glacial calm.

Momentum shifted as my father gained the upper hand. He exploited Walhart's wounded leg, forcing the Conqueror to lean on it with each blow. Several times Falchion slipped past Walhart's guard to cut deeply into his armor. Another swift exchange; with their weapons meeting low, Walhart pushed Falchion towards the floor, then raised his good leg and stamped down on it, trapping the blade. Again he raised his axe, only for a blast of fire to explode directly in front of his face.

He fell backwards onto the floor, the skin of his exposed face burned by the flames. The expression on his face was one of pure rage, combining with the smoke now drifting off of him to make him look even more terrifying. His murderous gaze slipped away from my father and towards Destin, who was preparing to cast another spell.

Acting on instinct, I leapt forwards while drawing my own Falchion. With a great heave, Walhart hurled his axe towards Destin. The sudden attack caught him off guard, and his sword was only halfway raised when I deflected the whirling axe to the side. The ringing impact left me stunned for a moment or two, but I still felt a surge of elation.

When I came to my senses, I saw that the fight was over. My father had taken advantage of Walhart's distraction, and now Falchion's point was lodged in the Conqueror's throat. For a moment, it seemed like he was raising his arms to pull it out, but then they slumped back down. Even he had his limit, and he'd just run into it.

The Conqueror gave a wet, rasping chuckle. "You see, Prince? Sometimes... the sword is the only way. It seems that my conquest... ends here." A moment later, the final traces of life left Walhart's eyes.

My father stood before the Conqueror's corpse a long time, studying him. I wondered what was passing through his mind. Perhaps he even mourned the man; Walhart could've been a hero, a visionary who united the disparate peoples of the world under his banner and rallied them against Grima. But his own methods had been too brutal, his path too stained with blood. That was what conquest had meant to him.

It'd taken him years to forge his empire. We'd demolished it in less than a month. There were still sufficient Valmese armies remaining to crush us if they'd attacked, but they wouldn't now. They'd fought because they were afraid of Walhart, not because it was right.

In the end, the seemingly invincible Valmese Empire had been pitifully fragile.