"Hello, Sir Wulfweard..." Zidane said, carefully cracking the door of the dragoon's cell open. He had been taken to one of the towers instead of the dungeon and was being held prisoner in a room as luxurious as it was inescapable, for its thick walls were reinforced with powerful magical barriers.
"Greetings, Your Royal Highness..." the old burmecian answered without even looking at him. He was sitting on the floor, calmly meditating under a thin ray of moonlight. "How is Cherry? Is she still unconscious?"
"Luckily, she's awake. The Trial is over." Zidane replied.
Wulfweard stood up and turned around. Even in the darkness of night, Zidane could discern the relieved expression on his wrinkled face.
"I've always known that her spirit harbored the seed of greatness. Thank you for telling me, sir, I'm glad to know that she's safe." the old warrior said, offering the king a respectful bow.
"Something went wrong along the way, however..." Zidane added, prompting Wulfweard to stare blankly at him.
"What happened, sir? Is she hurt in any way?" the soldier worriedly inquired.
"Hmm... his concern seems to be genuine..." the genome thought before answering his question, "Not for the moment. Berlioz wants to appoint her as his new Spear, but he wants a second duel before giving her the job."
"A second duel..?" the veteran warrior uttered in disbelief, "If I'm correct, this is a first in the entirety of burmecian history..."
"Any ideas about why is he doing all this?" Zidane asked.
"Hmm... maybe it has to do with her status as a world savior." Wulfweard proposed, stroking his whiskers, "The Allfather has always favored heroes, and Freya is one of the greatest living champions of our race. I'm inclined to think that he despises Ulrich's shameful ways and views her as a better embodiment of his beliefs. Hmph... how ironic..."
"Huh? What do you mean?" the genome immediately inquired.
"I don't want to bore you with theology, sir, so I'll sum it up to the best of my ability. Our pantheon has two main deities: Father Berlioz and Mother Reis. They have been locked in a tense standoff ever since the Allfather's ascension to godhood due to their vastly different philosophies and principles. Berlioz's cult is prevalent among burmecians, while Reis ended up becoming the favored deity of cleyrans until the destruction of their civilization."
Cleyra... how to forget about Odin's final charge and the subsequent obliteration of the doomed citadel. Zidane felt that if he closed his eyes, he would see the eidolon of annihilation emerging once again from his dark dimension.
"... Like her mother and unlike most burmecians, Freya has always relied primarily on the goddess' miracles and teachings, despite having acquired the Mark of the Dragonslayer, the most important sacrament of the Allfather's religion." Wulfweard explained, "Whereas the Path of Berlioz is about defeating powerful foes in glorious combat to grow stronger, the Path of Reis emphasizes chivalry, compassion and protecting the weak."
"I guess that makes her an odd champion choice for Berlioz, am I right?" Zidane commented.
"Absolutely. However, he must not want the most famous dragoon alive to be aligned with Reis and not with him." the soldier concluded.
"Geez... even the gods can be petty jerks." the king opined.
"When is the rematch going to take place, sir?" the dragoon asked, letting the genome's rude remark slide.
Zidane hesitated to answer. Wulfweard, an experienced spy himself, immediately picked up on it.
"You are still suspicious of me." he said with a subtly challenging tone.
"Yes. I'm sorry to keep you here and for... you know... freaking out when the Trial started, but your presence in Alexandria is far too convenient and you almost got a very dear friend of mine killed, who also happens to be at the top of your regent's black list." the king retorted.
The burmecian glared at him, outraged.
"You insult me! I'm many things, but I'm not a traitor! I would never sell out a student of mine like that!" he exclaimed.
"C'mon, Wulf, we're both professional liars. You know that sentimentalism is not gonna get you anywhere." Zidane retorted.
"Alright... what do I need to do to quell your fears, sir?" the dragoon asked, visibly irritated.
"That's what I wanted to hear." the king replied, folding his arms. "I'll ask you one thing. Do it and not only I'll let you go: I'll give you five million gil as a token of gratitude for warning us about Ulrich's army."
"I'm not interested in your money, but I appreciate your generosity nevertheless. What is this task you need me to perform, sir?" Wulfweard inquired.
"Convince my interrogation specialist of your innocence. No torture, no pain, just talking. Simple as that."
"Alright then, where is he?" the burmecian agreed.
"Tomorrow. Well, today in fact. She's not here yet." Zidane clarified. Sir Wulfweard's ears twitched almost imperceptibly in response to his answer, but the genome detected the gesture and frowned, knowing from experience what it meant. "Something's worrying you... do you need to be somewhere else soon?"
The veteran soldier chuckled.
"I have to say that I've underestimated you, sir." he said, "I see now that your reputation is well deserved, indeed."
Zidane silently stared into the burmecian's eyes for a moment.
"Who are you, Wulfweard? Who are you working for? Why are you doing all this?" he inquired.
The dragoon shrugged and sat down again with his back turned to the king.
"I've already told you that, and Cherry can attest to my words." he calmly replied, "I'm an old friend of Puck's family and I wish to prevent the war from happening as much as you do. If you still don't believe me, I'll just sit here until the interrogator arrives."
"Alright. There's water over there and you can eat all the fruit you want from the table. Oh, and if nature calls, that chair over there is..." Zidane explained.
"I'm well aware of its function, sir. Thank you." the knight stated, not bothering to open his eyes.
"Knock the door if you need something. I'll come back whenever my specialist arrives." the king said, turning to leave.
"... If I were you, I would severely punish the eastern wall guards for their ineptitude." Wulfweard suggested.
"Thanks, Wulf... I sure hope we get to trust each other." the genome replied, closing the door behind him.
That morning, little Tot woke up with lots of energy. He jumped off his bed and got dressed, tucking his tail inside his loose pants as his father had taught him to do and wrapping it around his waist like a furry belt of sorts.
He looked out the window, enjoying the warmth of the rising sun on his skin; it was definitely the perfect day to go out and play.
The young prince slowly cracked the door of his room open and peeked outside. He was surprised to see none other than Lady Beatrix standing guard next to his dormitory.
"Good morning, Your Royal Highness." the general greeted him with a friendly smile.
"G-good morning, Lady Beatrix!" Tot stuttered. Maybe it was the eyepatch, maybe it was her deadly presence, he didn't know why, but he couldn't help feeling intimidated by the graying knight.
"I know what you were planning to do, sir, but just for today I can't allow it." the seasoned warrior explained.
"Oh, man..." Tot muttered.
"Your presence is requested in the royal bedroom, sir. Your parents have decided to have breakfast there." Beatrix stated. "After that, I'll escort you to the library for your daily lesson."
"Okay..." the prince mumbled, reluctantly obeying Beatrix's orders.
The general gestured to a nearby couple of maids, indicating that the prince's room was ready for cleanup.
"What's going on..?" the boy wondered, knocking on his parents' door.
Queen Garnet peeked outside and smiled when she saw her son standing on her doorstep.
"Good morning, darling!" she greeted him, trying to sound enthusiastic despite the dark circles under her eyes.
"Hi, mom..." Tot replied, immediately realizing that something was off, "Are you alright? You look really tired..."
"Don't worry about it, it's okay." she answered, letting out a yawn, "Come in, dear, we were waiting for you."
The queen nodded to Beatrix and let the young prince in, closing the door behind him. The general sighed when she found herself alone with her thoughts once again.
"Hmm... my shift is almost over..." the alexandrian general muttered when she was sure that nobody was listening, massaging her sore neck.
"H-hello, Bea..." Steiner stuttered, startling her. He could be very sneaky when he wanted to, despite his loudly clanking armor.
"Oh... hello, Adelbert." she answered quietly.
"Uhh..." the muscular soldier mumbled, fidgeting with his fingers, "A-any news about Ulrich..?"
"I'm sorry about yesterday." the general replied, cutting straight to the chase. The Pluto knight sighed and scratched his nape.
"I'm sorry too, my love." Steiner added, "I didn't know how to react and froze up like a big coward..."
Beatrix stared at her husband and offered him a sad smile.
"It wasn't your fault, Adelbert. I wouldn't have known what to say either, especially considering that she was right about me... about what I did." she said, gently caressing Steiner's cheek "It was really unfair of me to get angry at you for that."
The burly knight's throat tightened when he saw the unfathomable sorrow in his wife's eyes. Twenty years of devout love hadn't been enough to help her move on, and her grief had grown deeper every day. He felt like she was slowly slipping through his fingers, like sand in the wind.
"We've already talked about this! You were under strict orders from the queen..!" Steiner blurted out.
"So were you." she interrupted him, "That's the difference between us. That's why I admire you. You are a true hero, Adelbert. I am nothing but a tool."
He was left speechless, powerless after such a statement.
"I believe your shift begins now." the general said, walking past him. "I'll be back in an hour to pick up Tot. If something bad happens, you know where to find me."
Adelbert Steiner watched his wife disappear downstairs, unable to articulate what he wanted to tell her.
"We're no longer tools of anyone..." he muttered when she was well out of earshot.
Beatrix decided to wind down a bit the only way she knew: by going to the training room. She was about to enter when an unexpected sound caught her attention.
"Huh..?" she muttered, putting an ear against the wooden gate: somebody was inside.
The general cracked the door open and sighed when she encountered the last person she wanted to see that day.
"Good morning, Lady Crescent…" she reluctantly said.
Freya was doing sit-ups while hanging upside down from a bar on the ceiling. The sight vaguely reminded Beatrix of Zidane in his younger days.
"Oh. It's you. Hello." the dragoon coldly replied, resuming her routine immediately after.
The swordswoman turned to leave and stood silently with her hand on the doorknob for a few seconds.
"Say, dragon knight…" she uttered, her heart pounding in her chest.
"What do you want?" the burmecian rudely asked.
"Do you still know your way around a polearm?" the general inquired, looking at Freya over her shoulder.
The dragoon remained still for a moment before letting herself fall, spinning mid-air like a cat and gracefully landing on her feet. Without a single word, she picked up a quarterstaff from the weapons rack and stepped into the square mat intended for sparring. Beatrix chose a wooden longsword instead and stared calmly into her opponent's fierce emerald eyes.
"Are you looking to avenge your wounded pride?" Freya growled, glaring daggers at the woman that had ruined her life two decades ago.
"No. I just want to talk." the general answered, her voice unexpectedly tinged with sorrow.
"Why the weapons, then?" the burmecian asked, raising an eyebrow.
"We are warriors, aren't we?" Beatrix answered, "How else could I properly show you my respect? Besides, it will be more... cathartic this way, don't you think?"
"You're ridiculous, warmongering hag." Freya snarled, "No matter how powerful you are, you'll never be a warrior. You are but a mere soldier."
Having said those words, the dragoon assumed a fighting stance. Beatrix raised her blade, accepting the challenge. She suddenly lunged forward, her speed and ferocity definitely not matching her wrinkled, aging body.
"So fast..!" Freya thought as the general stepped into striking range. Beatrix swung her weapon thrice in quick succession, aiming for Freya's head, liver and left wrist. Each attack was so monstrously potent that any lesser warrior would have been knocked down flat by the very first blow, provided that it didn't outright kill them. The dragoon instinctively parried the first two slashes and struck Beatrix's weapon so hard while countering the third one that she broke her training sword in two, the upper half exploding in a shower of splinters when it hit the stone ceiling.
"Impressive…" the general commented, staring at her ruined blade. She then slowly walked back to the weapons rack to pick up another sword. Freya was flabbergasted by the almost suicidal calm with which she had turned her back on her after having been disarmed like that.
"I want you to know..." the old swordswoman said, raising her blade once again, "... that for twenty years I've had nothing but nightmares, night after night."
Without giving Freya time to process her words, Beatrix closed the gap between them at ridiculous speed, cutting the dragoon's already damaged staff in two with a rising strike of her blade, barely missing her face. With the fluidity of a wind current, she turned the momentum of her upwards attack into an overhead slash that would have put the burmecian to sleep if she hadn't stopped it using both halves of her broken polearm.
"Oh, you've gotten better!" the general lauded her, realizing that her weapon was effectively trapped and she didn't have the strength to free it.
"You have no idea…" Freya answered, kicking the elderly fencer in the stomach and accidentally sending her flying across their improvised ring.
"What... is this power..?!" Beatrix thought before landing on her back and banging her head on the matted floor with a loud thud.
"Oh, no..!" Freya mumbled, horrified, when she saw her opponent lying motionless on the ground; it seemed that even without further magical enhancements, her newfound strength was too dangerous to use recklessly.
Much to the burmecian's relief, Beatrix coughed and rose to her feet. No mere human could or should have stood up after receiving such a spine-shattering blow, but the general wasn't revered as the mightiest warrior on Gaia for nothing.
"Heh... heh... I'd give anything to be in my prime right now." the swordswoman wheezed, preparing herself for round three, "Our battle would be legendary..."
"Stop it, Beatrix. This fight is over." Freya said, dropping the remains of her staff.
The alexandrian general blinked twice in utter disbelief.
"Heh... hehehe..." Beatrix chuckled. She supported herself on her sword and kneeled to catch her breath, "I can't believe you're pitying me..."
"No. I'm just being reasonable." the dragoon replied, walking towards the general, "We can't risk getting seriously injured at a time like this."
Beatrix remained silent for a moment.
"... You should have kicked me harder." she whispered.
"Huh..?" Freya uttered, taken aback by her statement.
"If you are capable of winding me with a single strike, then this kingdom no longer needs my sword..." the general elaborated.
"You're wrong." the dragoon interrupted her, "Your skills and experience are more necessary than ever right now."
"What..?" the paladin mumbled, raising her eyebrows. Was the burmecian... encouraging her?
Freya gently placed her hand over Beatrix's head, taking her by surprise.
"Help us preserve the frail peace that we've striven so hard to achieve." the dragoon said, "That's how you shall redeem yourself."
Having said those words, she muttered a prayer to Reis. The goddess seemed to hesitate for a moment before manifesting herself in the form of a mystical breeze that mended the general's battered body, making her feel ten years younger.
"Stand up, Beatrix of Alexandria, for Mother Reis has decided to give you a second chance." the burmecian said, "Don't let it go to waste."
The paladin was left speechless. She quietly stared as Freya picked up her belongings and left the room.
"I swear I won't..." she whispered.