The Tale of Lyn
Ike ground his teeth. And if someone had approached him, he would have told them that he had more than a good reason to do so.
Somehow, Lucina had found another ally in this barren plain, another obedient dog to add to her horde. Her magic in this regard seemed to know no end. While Mister Headscarf didn't outright jump around Lucina's feet and begged to join her cause, he had an interest in her ongoing campaign against the Pheraen Empire that went beyond polite curiosity. She was on her best way to win over not only him but the Lorca as a whole, people who had lived under the loose rule of the Pheraen house for generations. And although the prospect of more fighters to strengthen the rebel cause should offer Ike a satisfied grin, he was too busy grinding his teeth to the stumps and cursing Sacae and the blue-haired wizard royalty he had to share the view with.
If anyone could convince the stars to leave their heavenly home and descend to earth, Lucina could.
Ike had spent the quietness of the march – a quietness now lost thanks to the catalogue of questions Rath targeted Lucina with – reviewing their previous duel. With mixed results. She had more than an ability to read the people on her side; even in battle her strategic wit operated at full swing, and she directed her slender sword in quick and unpredictable patterns. Sure, he could attribute her victory to his arm wound. Or to the fact that her ingenuity had caught him in a bad mood, and that in any other scenario he would have maintained the upper hand. But maybe she had won because she was the better duelist. Plain and simple.
And in Ike's mind, this was more than reason enough to grind his teeth.
As for the upside, at least they now had a concrete lead to follow instead of wandering through the plains in the hopes of catching a glimpse of a Lorca hunting group by chance. Mister Headscarf had said they would reach his people's camp in the early afternoon. And sure enough, when the sun burned Ike's neck and promised another ghastly headache, a small collection of huts came into view.
The dome-shaped tents made out of horse leather crouched in the middle of nowhere like grey stones a child had chucked into the landscape. Ike sneered in the face of this horrible strategic position. A rock formation or a hillcrest would have offered a bare minimum of protection against enemy forces, and a well like the one Ike's comrades had rested at earlier would have at least offered water to the inhabitants. But the Lorca ignored all matter of strategy.
A few weather-beaten men and women sat in front of their tents and threw the newcomers hostile looks. Holes dotted the pelts and patterned scarfs they wrapped around themselves. In some cases, the colors had faded to plain yellows and beiges.
Despite the apparent poverty, the Lorca held their heads high.
How much worse did the people of Tellius look?
Cordelia regarded the Lorca they passed with wary eyes and looked like she wanted nothing more than to jump onto her horse and quit their proud, stuck-up company. Cherche stroked Minerva's head and hurled low curses at those who had dared to hurt her beloved oversized lizard. But the majority of rebels watched Lucina as she shepherded them into the heart of the tribe. Against all odds, she had found the Lorca, had won the interest of one of them, and was on the best way of forging an alliance with the rest of the bunch.
And the rebels loved her for it.
While Rath and his fellows rolled out blankets at the camp's center for a banquet, Lucina went around the gathered Lorca, listened to their stories, and absorbed their culture. While the Alteans under her command tore apart bread loafs and lunged at the offered bowls with millet and gazelle meat, she persuaded the Lorca to join her. Here she told a scarred woman of the unjust death her father had suffered through Pherae, there she impressed a trio of archer boys with her victory at Persis.
So many people clung to her lips. And Ike was just as guilty of the crime.
Titania, who sat on her knees next to him, shoved a cup with the Lorca's milky, dry wine in Ike's face. "After the hours you spent plotting your revenge for the duel you lost, I hope you at least a have a plan to show for it."
Ike snatched the cup from Titania but the sharp scent didn't exactly excite him to try the concoction.
"Didn't you want to punish me with silence?" he asked.
"I think you had your silence for long enough. I want to know what you think."
"About her?"
Titania smiled knowingly. "Funny that she was the first thing that came to your mind."
Ike downed his wine. The taste matched the landscape with its unattractive flavor. "I didn't know we were playing one of your games. Lucina is just another new recruit who happens to know more about fencing than average. That's all."
"You and I both know that she is more than that: The leader and the figurehead that could finally carry the rebellion to victory."
"We've done well without a leader so far."
"Ike, when you start lying to yourself, you should know that your argument doesn't hold up." Titania readjusted the bandage around Ike's arm. "For all these years you have been begging for someone else to take the leadership mantle from you. And now that the solution stares you in the face, you recoil."
"Lucina isn't fit for the role."
"She isn't? I believe the people who have followed her into Sacae's barrenness would beg to differ."
Ike watched as Lucina handed the Lorca girl next to her a tankard with water. "She's too kind. Too hesitant to spill blood. She wouldn't kill Roy."
"Maybe she doesn't have to…"
Disgusted, Ike dropped his drink. "I'm not gonna talk with you about this. You know where I stand."
"I'm not asking you to forgive Roy. But he like so many of us only followed the path his parents paved for him. He can pay for his crimes in other ways than by death."
"You think a cozy ten years in a prison are gonna cut it?" Ike huffed a humorless laugh. "He's the rightful heir to Pherae's throne, and this position will always give him power. He'll always come back. Unless someone has the guts to kill him. Unfortunately, I don't trust Lucina to do the job."
"When have you trusted anyone?" Titania looked up to Ike with this hurtful look parents give their children when they see the future of their precious offspring crumble. She expected a response, or rather hoped he would surprise her despite her better judgement.
Ike had no answer.
The feast continued without anyone else forcing a conversation on him. Soren regarded Ike's profile with a few curious looks, but the more pressing matters surrounding Lucina and the Lorca always recaptured his attention. By now, she had gathered a dozen young tribe members around herself, and all of them begged her to accept their sabers and rid Sacae of its red-haired overlord. Or the 'Big Eagle' as they called him. The Lorca elders, however, met Lucina's persuasive speeches with skeptical frowns.
"To betray the heir to Eliwood brings shame," a weathered geezer stuttered. "The Lorca cannot follow the heir to Marth into war."
Rath, who sat next to Lucina, jumped to his feet and rattled with his mug like feud-hungry squires do with swords. "The Lorca have accepted the Pheraen hand for long enough. To bend knees and lower heads to the eagle flag, that brings shame!"
"Youth speaks in you," the geezer said. "The Lorca have offended the eagle flag once, and many families bled. A second time will bring ruin."
Lucina leaned over to the old man. "But you have rebelled against the Pheraen Empire once. You realized what its rulership means for your people: the end to your freedom. What happened that you changed your mind?"
"Ruin. The tale of Lyn tells us—"
Rath's loud voice drowned out whatever the geezer tried to say. "The tale of Lyn is the elders' excuse to bend their knees!"
"I appreciate your enthusiasm in fighting the Empire," Lucina said. "And I hope more Lorca will follow your example and retrieve their free will and with it their freedom, should we succeed. However, I cannot condone that your tribe succumbs to senseless arguing because of my presence. If we can't talk as friends, I will ask my comrades to depart immediately."
Rath chewed on Lucina's words for a moment before he tossed his mug aside; the closest thing to a sign of surrender the Lorca were capable of.
"You speak well." He grinned. "The Altean ways of diplomacy seem useful. Maybe you will teach me your art of warfare?"
Lucina smiled. "Some other time. For the moment, I would be more interested to hear the tale of Lyn. If I better understood your history, I might be able to offer you a deal that will prove beneficial to all parties. Even if the Lorca themselves won't agree to fight, perhaps you can guide us to other clans who will."
"The Taliver are without honor and the Kutolah are small in numbers," Rath said. "Only the Lorca will serve as a sword that cuts deep into the eagle's flesh."
Ike rolled his eyes. This utter lack of actions in favor of diplomatic dances and ego flexing stressed his patience past the breaking point, and he almost vented the pressure through another round of grinding his teeth. But he had a better idea. The role of the obedient observer had never suited him anyway.
"Great, we know your ability to boast now," Ike said and flicked a shriveled date from his platter. "Doesn't mean there's anything behind it."
Rath's angry expression was priceless. "Who are you that you speak so?"
"I'm just here to enjoy the show. Unfortunately, with a talkative leader like you, all we've done so far is turn in circles. No wonder the Lorca have been forgotten by everyone."
Titania squeezed his shoulder. "Ike, please…"
"We cannot overlook this offence," Rath shouted and whirled towards Lucina. "Who is he that he speaks so? Is he here to provoke a feud?"
"No, he is not," Lucina said. Although her voice still radiated calm, her expression revealed her dismay. "He's a member of my party, and I will take full responsibility for his actions."
"Then you carry out the feud in his place?"
Ike laughed. "Good luck with that. I'm pretty sure she will crush all of your cowardly Lorca warriors with one arm tied behind her back."
Lucina blinked; Ike's compliment of her abilities had surprised her. But her momentary overwhelm gave Rath the chance to hurl another offended shout across the heads of the assembled rebels and tribe members.
"I call for the right to silence this man at once! You shame your family with the way you speak, stranger!"
"Don't think they care much at this point."
Lucina rose to her feet and besieged both Rath and Ike with angry glares. "Enough, both of you. When I said I didn't want to cause a fight between the Lorca, I didn't mean for one of my comrades the overstep the line. I would like to apologize to the leader of your people with all due formality. Rath, do you speak for the Lorca?"
Navarre, the quiet maniac on Rath's other side, held his arms crossed, and with a cold stare that could challenge Grima, spoke before Rath could answer. "Rath is half Lorca. He is son not to a tribe man but an outsider."
"My father does not define me! I am Lorca, more than you ever will be!"
"Lyn told us to accept the heir to Eliwood as king. That is the path we should follow."
"I will not lower my head to the likes of him!"
"Then will you tarnish the little honor your family has left by refusing Lyn's wishes?"
Rath tensed his muscles, ready and eager to tackle Navarre. The two men barked and bared their teeth, a pair of wolves fighting for dominance over the pack. Their grudge had boiled for a long while; Ike had only tossed them the bone over which they could jump at each other's throats.
"Not one man speaks for the Lorca," the geezer interrupted the quarrel. "The old leader died and the bloodline with her."
"And just because you don't have a leader, that gives you the excuse to sit around idly and let the Pheraen Empire take your resources and kill your people?" Ike asked. He no longer bothered with keeping his voice down, this pathetic complacency the Lorca called living was giving him a headache of the worst kind.
"The tale of Lyn tells us the consequences of an offence against the eagle flag."
"Oh, please elaborate," Ike snarled. "I'm sure you suffered dreadful injustice if that convinced you to put your heads in the sand until you don't see the tyrant anymore."
The assembled rebels shifted awkwardly. One of them coughed. Lucina closed her eyes in what looked like a desperate attempt to black out the fact that Ike might have doomed her alliance with the Lorca before it had even begun. But pleasantries and generous offers had their limits. With folks as stubborn as the Lorca, only a slap in the face had the power to wake them from their comforting illusions. Once Roy had disposed of all Alteans, how long until he set fire to the grass lands in the east?
Not long. Unless someone had the guts to kill him.
The geezer either hadn't noticed the irony in Ike's comment or chose to ignore it. Whichever the case, he creaked his old bones and began his story. The words flew from his lips, as though he had told the same tale many times.
"The tale of Lyn reminds us of the undoing that comes when we forget our laws and offend the eagle flag," he said. "Lyn was the chief of the Lorca as her ancestors were before her. She rode with the wind and shot a wild antelope through the eye on a thousand feet distance. No one knew the lands of Sacae as Lyn did. She travelled farther than the grass stretches, into the principality of Ostia and the fields of Pherae before the dark shadow rose in the west, and the kingdoms called for war. So it happened. Lyn found companions in Hector of Ostia and Eliwood of Pherae."
Ike growled. And if he had still held his wine cup, he would have smashed the thing amidst the bowls of bread and meat as Rath had done before. Companionship with Eliwood of Pherae – that had to be the worst joke Ike had heard in a while. The man who had built the Black Wall and started the conquest of his neighboring kingdoms lacked the empathy to build companionship with anyone.
As far as incarnations of evil went, only the Black Knight overshadowed Eliwood.
The geezer continued in ignorance of Ike's internal curses. "Three heroes we no longer see these days. The Lorca enjoyed freedom and traded food and wisdom with Ostia and Pherae. So brought Lyn wealth to her people. She repaid the debt to her companions through sword and bow. The battles they fought guaranteed victory. A strong bond that spanned borders. One protected the life of the other in times of sunshine and storm. But as the tale of Lyn tells us, the best heroes can still fail in the face of war.
"Lyn failed her friends twice. A dragon from the eastern cliffs took Hector of Ostia, and no heir lived who could accept Lyn's sword afterwards. Shame was her trail. And shame immobilized her. Eliwood of Pherae called for war. Lyn stayed in Sacae. So it happened. Eliwood fell in the dust before the gates of the Glass Fortress, and shame stained the image of Lyn, a shame that could not find repayment. The heir to Eliwood continued the father's conquest. And Lyn, to honor her fallen friend, urged the Lorca to accept his ruling hand as they accepted his father's."
Lucina lowered her head. As a Pheraen knight, she had to have heard the story before but from the point of view of the conqueror. Not the conquered.
"But the heir to Eliwood was young and the crown unfit for his head," the geezer continued. "Lyn's pleas in his favor met outcries. Soon they met the wind's silence as members of her clan plotted against her in the darkness of night. Her past failures were not forgotten, and her oath to Eliwood was not the oath of all Lorca. Angry faces slit her throat and burned her hut. Lyn rides with the wind no more. Her arrows will never fly again.
"Nothing is known of the perpetrators. They saw Lyn siding with the unfit king over her clan, so it was their right to kill her. The heir to Eliwood knows not our law. He saw betrayal and murder. And revenge was his answer. The eagle knights came and with their fangs tore apart the Lorca. Many families bled. No leader guided them to safety. Fire and steel consumed those who did not flee.
"So it happened. So it will happen again. To offend the eagle flag is to bring ruin. The Lorca cannot follow the heir to Marth," the geezer concluded.
Ike looked from him to Lucina. The Lorca refused to fight; even without the ability to lower their heads, they were spineless. And why did they lead their lives as suppressed and forgotten cowards, an existence that didn't warrant the term 'life' if all they knew was Roy's foot pinning them down? Because they had no leader. No one inspired them. The old storytellers feed the young warriors with tales of a failed chief.
Lyn had gifted the Lorca with peace and goods they had never tasted before. But these traditionalists only remembered her shame in failing to fight beside her comrades when they needed her most.
The years had tired them. Some had died. Many more had quit the fight. The same as the Altean rebels. That's how Roy won. By killing a few and crippling the rest.
The rebellion did need a leader, a figurehead, a symbol to rally behind, and a name to shout as their battle cry. Ike had hated the role, more with each time his comrades told him he fit the mantle, until he had convinced himself the rebellion didn't need a leader.
But Lucina wore the mantle like a second skin. Maybe they had all waited for her. If anyone could convince the stars to abandon their heavenly home and descend to earth, she could. Spearheading a rebellion wouldn't cause her trouble.
And if her sword skills hadn't convinced Ike of Lucina's importance in the battle against Pherae, she had earned his conviction now.
While the rest of the rebels occupied themselves with thoughts about heirs, eagles, and three heroes, Lucina nodded towards the geezer and then included the entirety of the assembled Lorca with open arms.
"I understand now why you might not want to raise your weapons against the Pheraen Empire," she said. "I don't have the right to ask any of you to abandon your tribe and fight a war we might not win. But I want to remind you all that there used to be a time where people from Sacae and beyond lived in peace side by side, family next to family, hero next to hero. The Lorca have suffered as the Alteans continue to suffer. The king is not your rightful ruler but your oppressor. If even just one of you wants to return the golden days to Archanea, I will welcome them gladly."
"You already have my vote," Ike said.
"If the loud stranger fights, so will I." Rath hoisted his bow above his head. "I will ride with the heir to Marth! The eagle flag will darken the grass plains no more!"
Another Lorca, one of the young archer boys Lucina had talked to, joined Rath's side. "Let me assist the heir to Marth. I will follow you into the eagle capital!"
"So will I."
"So it will happen!"
More and more Lorca proclaimed their loyalty, and their voices silenced any elders' murmured complaint until the plain shook under their battle cry, and a sea of bows and sabers reached up to pierce the invisible Pheraen flag above. A few Alteans joined in. And where Ike had approached Aurelis with ten sword arms at his side, now sixty sought to carry the fight towards Lycia. Towards the tyrant.
Ike reclaimed his mug and raised it towards Lucina in a silent toast. And although a cluster of Lorca shuffled around her, her smile seemed only made for him.
Lucina hoped for an opportunity to talk to Ike throughout the entire duration of the feast. He had hurled some less than charming insults at the Lorca, and Rath wasn't the only one eager to whet his saber for a duel with him. But unconventional method or not, Ike had played his part in winning the Lorca for Lucina's course. She couldn't deny that.
After Fredrick's and Tiki's warning, Lucina should view him less like a walking enigma and more like a potential roadblock, a piece on the board that might still turn against her. Yet when he toasted to her, she couldn't help but repay his unreadable expression with a smile.
Unfortunately, the thanks she wanted to give him remained stuck in her throat, much like the many questions regarding him. Even when the desert falcon sounded the shriek of its final hunt for the day and campfires sprung alive between the tents, the stream of Lorca targeting Lucina would not ebb. They hungered for her story, some came to exchange their loyalty for the plan with which Lucina wanted to overthrow Roy, and when she repeated what she had told Rath before for the tenth time, the milky Lorca wine started to develop all kinds of enticing flavors. Lucina switched to water before the taste of cinnamon could cloud her mind further. Her intoxicated ecstasy remained. Victory had never tasted so sweet. And still people lined up to talk to her.
With one exception: Navarre.
Rath's companion, or rather his rival by the sounds of their conversations, glared at Lucina from across the bowls with dates and friable bread. He sat outside the commotion, where the glow of the campfires struggled to reach, and tended his horse. But his dark eyes rarely missed one of Lucina's movements. Neither did his hand stray from the hilt of his saber for long. Yes, he would be far more difficult to sway than the other Lorca. But half-drunk from success, Lucina was more than happy to accept the challenge.
After she excused herself from Rath and convinced Frederick with a look that he could stop worrying for once, she traded her seat for an unoccupied spot next to Navarre. His glare could cut through chainmail.
"Go and seek other company, heir to Marth," he said. "You may be welcome to other Lorca, but not to me."
Lucina ignored his tone and held the back of her hand to his horse. The stallion sniffed before he pressed his muzzle against her arm and collected a series of strokes worthy of his fine fur.
"A beautiful horse," Lucina said. "A Caelin thoroughbred, isn't he? I can tell by the shape of his ears."
Navarre struggled to hide the reluctant respect twitching at the corners of his mouth. For a moment, Lucina thought he would join her in petting the stallion, but then he sounded a shrill whistle, and the thoroughbred darted away and out of reach.
"He bites," Navarre said. "I told you, you are not welcome."
"And may I ask why that is the case?"
Navarre stabbed her with his eyes.
"I suppose then you have no interest in the freedom I offer the Lorca."
"Not freedom. War is what you bring them."
Lucina stopped. Navarre's response had come with too much conviction. Distant laughter and the chink of toasting mugs followed his words, and still she struggled to maintain her face.
"If you fear that I will force you to ride into war for my sake," she finally continued, "you can rest easy. Enslaving people into his army is what the king did. And I'm not here to repeat his mistakes."
"I do not fear. Not you."
"Then perhaps it is Roy you fear? He is robbing you of your freedom, even if you refuse to see it. He has placed a noose around all of us, and he will tighten it as long as we don't stop him. I know he committed a horrible crime when he came to burn down your homes after Lyn's death. Shouldn't this give you all the more reason to fight him?"
"You know nothing of the Lorca, heir to Marth."
Lucina bit her lip. She needed to be more careful. Arrogant preaches wouldn't win Navarre's favors.
"You are right, I don't know enough about your ways," she said. "But I do know Roy. I've seen his true face. Maybe Lyn had reasons to stay loyal to him, maybe she only did it out of a sense of duty towards Eliwood. I cannot fault her for that. But nevertheless, she made a mistake. And I'm afraid the Lorca will continue to suffer from her mistake unless you cut your ties to her."
Lucina barely had the time to finish her sentence before Navarre jumped to his feet, drew his saber, and pointed the blade at her throat. The world fell silent and narrowed to a tunnel. Or so Lucina thought.
In her periphery, uncounted hands unsheathed swords, and bowstrings tensed, pulled back by Lorca and Alteans alike. But all that happened far away, obscured by a distant sandstorm. Only the saber poised to end her life existed. The blade curved towards the tip, a common style among those in Sacae who favored the sword over the bow. But this particular saber set itself apart from all specimen in the vast collection in Lycia's armory by the ridge: a thin red line. A ribbon in the same color wound itself around the handle. Remarkable. Lucina's breath misted the steel.
Fear should freeze her muscles by now, and her breath should either quicken or stop altogether. But Lucina knew of the eyes on her. She couldn't bend to the blade now. Slowly, one twitch of a muscle at a time, she rose to her feet.
Navarre stared at her from the eye of the sandstorm. "Who are you to speak so? You who knows nothing."
He could kill her. Lucina gave him every opportunity to do so.
"Navarre!" Rath's voice sliced through the silence. He, before anyone else, reached Navarre to push him back. "The heir to Marth stands under the protection of Lorca hospitality law. Do not load more shame onto your family than you already have. Carry your oath elsewhere."
Navarre's glare darted from Lucina to Rath and back. Then he sheathed his saber. Without another word, he spun around, called for his horse, and galloped out of the camp, into the shadows of the endless grassland.
A collective sigh went through the rebels. Frederick and Tiki and other voices blurring into one inquired after Lucina's wellbeing, but she waved them all away. As conversations resumed and another serving of wine poured into the cups, Lucina still stood a little aside from the feast, where the campfire struggled to reach, and stared into the night.
The night stared back.
Rath stepped next to her and raised his winecup. "You have interesting stories to tell, heir to Marth. Now I have seen you create them before my very eyes."
"What was that saber Navarre wielded?" Lucina asked.
"A blood oath saber. The highest sign of loyalty a Lorca can offer."
Lucina's stomach twisted. "I have read about them. The blood oath saber expresses an undying bond between the recipient and the Lorca warrior who wields the weapon, to the point where the warrior will both kill and die for their oath. Navarre's saber was dedicated to Lyn, wasn't it?"
"You speak truth. But even with the steel in hand, he is too blind to swing it. His eyes are tied to the past, no matter how the wind blows."
"Because he failed to fulfill his oath to Lyn? Is that what you meant when you said his family already carried too much shame?"
"Not Navarre failed the blood oath saber. His father did. Navarre himself never rode with her."
"But then why…" Lucina fell silent. She could answer this question herself.
His father's honor mattered the most to Navarre, he wielded his sword and hunted among the Lorca in his name. That was his dream: to restore his father's reputation. Even when no one else did, even when people like Rath called him manic, Navarre clung to the path Lyn had laid out for the Lorca. Because his father had done the same. And who else only fought her war for the dream of a dead father and the words with love forever on a folded piece of paper in her tunic?
Lucina pulled her cape tighter and stared into the night beyond the domed tents. The wind denied her the clacking of hooves to signal Navarre's return.
"I should not have said these things to him. I insulted not only him but his father as well. Nothing could be worse."
Rath huffed and tossed his mug aside. "Navarre should melt his blood oath saber to make a new sword. One that is less heavy with the ghost of his father."
"How can you say that?" Lucina stumbled backwards as though hit by his words. "Our parents make us who we are, and you want to throw the love that binds them to you away?"
"I have no love for my father, heir to Marth. A Pheraen who went as quickly as he came once he found his prize among the Lorca women. He swings the very eagle flag that darkens our sky. May he bear the eagle flag's colors, but I will not. When I draw my bow, I do it for the Lorca and for myself. And when I ride with you to the eagle capital, I will do it for the same reason."
Lucina's shoulders slacked. She almost choked on her words. "My father is the only reason I've come this far. Without him…"
"Look ahead." Rath grabbed her shoulders and turned her towards the ongoing feast.
The campfires blossomed and illuminated the leather tent walls like an unexpected orange flower amidst dark slate. And in this flickering light, Lucina found the faces of her comrades clearer than ever. They drank, they joked, they exchanged stories. Cherche leaned against Virion's shoulder, on the brink of dozing off over her stitching. Ike and Gregor toasted to each other. Lucina even caught a glimpse of Frederick laughing at something Cordelia said to him. Or maybe this detail like this entire scenery was a trick of the light. It certainly seemed too fantastical to be true.
"Look," Rath repeated. "This is your accomplishment. Did your father conquer Aurelis? Did your father lead these people into the grassland? Or was it your father who faced Navarre's blade without a hint of fear? All this is your accomplishment. Savor it. You waste too many thoughts on dead men. Try to see the living ones instead."
Lucina was speechless. She studied Rath's face. And although she had done so before, and although the wide mouth and sharp hunter eyes were hiding nothing, the campfire glow highlighted an honesty she had failed to see before. Or maybe this too was a fantastical trick of the light.
She opened her mouth to thank him, but Rath outmaneuvered her. "This is no evening to waste with such serious words," he said and made the first step towards where the fires of the feast shone the brightest. "Now I only miss the thrill of a fistfight to complete this night. Perhaps your loud companion will honor me if I spill his drink." He laughed. "Have no fear, I will not cripple your fighter."
"I'm glad to hear it. But I'm afraid I can't vouch that he will hold his punches in turn."
Rath's laughter deepened. "Your Altean way of diplomacy knows no weaknesses. Enjoy another cup of wine with me… Lucina."
And with a smile, she did.
When the ecstasy of alcohol fled, it left Lucina with nothing but anxiousness. The moment she closed the curtains of her tent behind her, her mind cast out all traces of tiredness, and the mere thought of sleep dried her already dry throat. Never had the crumbled mess of her coat made for a worse pillow; every lose thread pricked the back of her head.
The sounds of conversation quieted, only a handful of people remained to continue the feast, and the campfires painted their silhouettes onto the tent walls until they sat there as Lucina's shadowy guards on the canvas of her makeshift castle.
She stared into the night seeping through the linen sheets.
Uncounted eyes stared back.
Lucina tossed and turned, and the shadows around her grew as the campfires outside dwindled. Roy manifested out of her nightmares into the tent twice, but a flicker chased him away.
Her breath rattled long after he was gone. The crumbled coat soaked with sweat. A hallucination born from too much bad wine, Lucina told herself. Still she felt the needle tips of piercing eyes all over her skin, like a disease that tormented her wherever she went, like hidden daggers pointed at her back, creeping closer.
The tent walls wafted. One of the shadows sneaked forward, a dark spot in her periphery in the shape of a broad-shouldered man.
Roy… no, Roy was far away. But someone stood there between her and the tent entrance. Their breath stirred the air. Another inaudible step brought the shadow closer. Lucina didn't dare to move. Falchion lay out of sight in the dark where she had dropped it. The shadow bent over her, and when he whipped out a small push dagger, the ragged blade flashed in the light of the dying fire.
She could scream; kick and wriggle and wrestle, and maybe her efforts would prolong her life. Or she could admit Roy had beaten her once again. Lie still and let the weight of countless eyes on her fade for good.
But before the dagger struck true, the chest of her attacker burst open from a familiar blade drenched in blood. More blood struck Lucina's face. Warm. The assassin rasped, the dagger slipped from his lifeless hand, and he collapsed onto the ground beside her. His wide, empty eyes stared at her through the slit of his mask as though he refused to realize the bounty for Lucina's head had escaped his reach.
She had never seen a dead man from this close. So close that his breath would tickle her eyelashes had he still owned a breath.
Now she did feel the urge to scream.
But Lucina hadn't escaped the eyes on her, and a daughter of Marth and leader of the rebellion couldn't indulge in such weaknesses. Lest Ike sneered at her. So, she swallowed her panic, and after two forceful breaths, she faced her savior.
Or she intended to do so. But by then, two arms that clearly did not belong to Ike had wrapped around her neck, and her savior sobbed into her tunic.
"I'm so sorry," Tiki said. "I spent all this time watching Ike, I almost forgot to watch you."
Lucina had no idea how to handle this outburst of emotions, and for a lack of better ideas, opted to pat Tiki's back. "There's nothing you have to feel guilty about. I'm still alive thanks to you."
Tiki sniffed and examined Lucina's face. "Are you sure?"
"We are still talking, so I'm pretty sure I haven't died."
A fact Lucina still had trouble believing. This time she had been certain Roy would win. But whether on behalf of Naga or by sheer luck, Tiki had snuck into her tent at the last possible moment. Lucina's head was spinning, but aside from that, not even a scratch would remain from her encounter with the assassin.
She forced air into her lungs, once, twice, before she risked a look at the dead man beside her. But she couldn't stand the emptiness of his eyes. The cramped fingers, forever half-outstretched towards the dagger with which he had tried to kill her. The terrible silence in his chest.
"Who was he?" Lucina asked before she lost her voice in a cough.
"A member of the Black Fang," Tiki said and pointed at the obsidian emblem on the dagger hilt. "He must have followed us since Aurelis. And I didn't catch his terrible smell because I was so busy spying after the wrong person."
A member of the Black Fang – which meant Roy had opened the treasury for the one who brought him Lucina's head. He didn't even care enough to carry out the deed himself. In his glacier eyes, Lucina had become nothing more than an enemy chess piece to remove from the game. The old wound below Lucina's left collarbone ached and robbed her of her balance.
She buried her fingernails into her arm to distract herself from the pain. She couldn't allow herself to show her distress, not even in front of Tiki. After wetting her chapped lips, she felt confident to have banned any tremor from her voice.
"Thank you, Tiki," she said. "I hope this will be the last time you have to save my life like that. But can I ask another favor of you?"
"Everything."
"Could I have Falchion back?"
Tiki blinked, and as if she noticed the sword with which she had struck down the assassin for the first time, she shuddered. She held Falchion as far from her as her short arms allowed and threw it the kind of look a wyvern would give a wyrmslayer. The tension only fled her shoulders after Lucina reequipped Falchion to her side, and the shimmer of the steal vanished in its scabbard.
"If anything I heard about the Black Fang is true, this won't be the last attack," Lucina said. Her breath calmed now that she felt the weight of Falchion back at her side. "They found my tent amidst all the other ones, so their espionage skills do match their reputation. This one walked right under the noses of an entire camp worth of Lorca. The attack, even if it failed, destabilizes us, makes us wary. But if Roy believes this will stop our advances towards Lycia, he is mistaken. We have the Lorca on our side now, and I could hardly wish for better allies."
"But you were attacked in their camp! What if they made a deal—"
"No. They have no reason to side with Roy after he killed so many of their kind."
"But they don't believe in Naga!"
"Still, the only one who could have a grudge against me is…" Lucina stopped.
And as though Naga herself had whispered the answer into her ear, she knew exactly who had guided the assassin.
Navarre confessed before the grassland pheasant cried out the new day. While everyone else was still fussing about the corpse of the Black Fang assassin laid out where a few hours ago they had celebrated, Navarre confirmed Lucina's suspicions. The blood oath saber hung proudly at his side, and not a hint of remorse flashed in his eyes. Even as half of the assembly pointed their weapons at him, he continued to relate how he had led the assassin, who had lost their tracks the day before, towards the camp and past the guards.
The law of the Lorca had forbidden him to raise the dagger against a guest himself, but otherwise he had given the assassin all the necessary tools.
"And I will follow the same path again," Navarre said. "By the blood oath saber in my hands."
Rath shook off the two Lorca who had tried to restrain him for the past minutes. He marched over to Navarre, and the first punch thundered across the camp like an earthquake. Navarre went down.
"I will be glad to carry out the death sentence with my own hands," Rath said, a fist raised for the second hit. "Traitor."
Navarre scrambled to his knees, trembling but undefeated. "You side with an outsider over our tribe. You are the one who is betraying the Lorca."
"A poor use of your last words."
Lucina grabbed Rath's wrist. "Wait. I need to ask him something."
Rath grumbled and hurled his quiver at the nearest unsuspecting archer boy, but he did back away.
Navarre raised his chin to face Lucina. Blood dripped down his nose. But his eyes still burned, devoid of defeat. Lucina knew his expression. The criminals in the yard of Lycia's palace wore the same expression in the moment before the executioner blade fell. But here in the grassland of Sacae with a hundred rebel eyes on her, she was no mere witness.
Here she was the judge. One word of her, and Rath or Frederick or even Ike would silence Navarre's accusations forever. A wave of her hand, and the blood oath saber would drop into the dust, never to be picked up again.
It shouldn't be this easy to kill a man.
"I want to ask for your forgiveness," Lucina said. "For the way I offended your oath and more importantly the memory of your father. I know you will not accept my apology, and perhaps you are right to think my words are not enough. But is this truly the reason you wish me dead?"
"You ride out to kill the king. And when you do, you will lead the Lorca into fire and death. Do I need more reasons, heir to Marth?" Navarre spat out the last three words like a curse.
Lucina straightened. "I see. Then this matter is settled."
"I have waited too many seasons for this," Rath said and cracked his knuckles.
"No, don't kill him. Let him go."
"What?! Has madness taken you? If you let him go, he will follow your tracks and sic the Black Fang on you a second time!"
"Then so be it." Lucina placed a hand on Falchion's hilt. "I will not kill a man for his loyalty to his clan. And certainly not for his loyalty to his father. If anyone wants to challenge my judgement, you may do so. And if Navarre wants to use the life I spared to plot my assassination, he may do so. I will ride to Lycia all the same. I promised the Lorca freedom, and I intent to keep my promise. Whether fire and death await me there or not."
Notes: My sincerest apologies to all Lyn fans. Much like with Eliwood, the story hasn't been favorable towards her, due to the certain point of view I chose. More on that at a later date.
Reading through this chapter again, I do think the additional round of editing created something far better. At last, I don't have to look at this part of the story with an annoyed frown anymore. (Even if the chapter has become far longer as a result.) But you'll be the final judge of its entertainment value. The next update is going to be even longer, so look forward to that!
