A Final Gift
Harnesses jingled, horses scraped the cobblestone, and people in a mishmash of Altean, Pheraen, and Lorca colors hurried left and right in an effort to secure provisions and fill saddlebacks. In short, the rebellion was preparing its departure.
Once Eltrys' walls lay behind them, they would not halt until they reached the capital. Any more delays would only increase the risk of news reaching the king's ears.
A scenario Lucina preferred not to think about.
She petted her horse's forehead and examined the commotion around her. All these people rode into war either for her or for what she represented: a return of Archanea's golden days. She owed them a victory.
Rath besieged one of his men with a tirade over some triviality, a noise rather unwelcomed by Soren who tried in vain to focus on the content of his book. On the other side of the crowd, Gregor struggled to assort his collection of weapons and food packages because Cordelia kept walking all over his meticulous piles. Probably in search for someone with Virion's face to punch. Tiki meanwhile did her utmost to suffocate Ike with an extensive list of Nagaism's benefits, and no number of grim stares or dismissive gestures convinced her to lecture someone else. Maybe this was her idea of an apology for spying after him in Sacae.
Ike turned to Lucina for help, but someone else demanded her attention. It was the tall, brawny husband of the Altean woman who had praised Roy yesterday, and he pushed through the crowd towards her. His biceps could snap the neck of a grown bull, and for a heartbeat Lucina feared he would finish the assassin's job.
But the man stopped an arm's length away and bowed his head. "Do you have time for an audience?"
Lucina peeked past his broad shoulders, but no one paid the newcomer any attention. Their various tasks occupied her rebels to the fullest.
"Please, speak," Lucina said, and did her best to hide her unease.
"Waste of time. I have to ask you to follow me. You have to see for yourself."
Lucina wrestled with herself. On the one hand, her military training suspected a trap, another attempt on her life curtesy of the Black Fang. And of Roy. On the other hand, the man in front of her had the guts to waltz into an assembly of armed rebels, rebels who had occupied his hometown and did not hesitate to repay attacks on their leader with a rolling head. Besides, Lucina had no quarrel with Pherae's civilians. If she wanted to hope for a future alliance between Pherae and a sovereign Altea, now was the time to build the first small bridges.
With a last look in Ike's direction, who had yet to shake Tiki, Lucina set out to follow her peculiar petitioner. But an iron grip around her arm held her back.
"Where are you going?" Frederick asked. "This is not the right moment to sneak off. Do I have to remind you that we haven't had the time to properly secure the city? Any number of threats could hide out of sight."
"Come on, I won't be any safer when we ride against the Pheraen army at the capital." Lucina shook her arm, but Frederick didn't relent. "This man is waiting for me."
"Then let me accompany you."
"I don't need a guard wherever I go."
"Please, Lucina." Frederick looked genuinely distraught. "I wasn't there when the Black Fang assassin attacked you. They had their knives at your throat twice already. What if you had died? I… I could have never forgiven myself. You may not remember, and I know you now have others who can share this burden of the rebel movement with you. But I swore to always stand by your side. Please let me be your shield." He lowered his gaze. "At least one more time."
How could Lucina ever deny him? After everything he had done for her. Whether her path led him down a sunlit street of Eltrys or into an enemy den stacked to the ceiling with assassins didn't matter. Frederick's loyalty towards her controlled each of his steps and each of his actions. A loyalty so firm it might very well kill him in the upcoming battle.
From where did he draw all this dedication? Lucina's task spanned so much farther, her responsibility included so many more people, and yet she failed to muster half his devotion. Even after her talk with Ike, her mind tumbled under a storm of what-ifs.
But one truth stared her in the face that resisted the storm: Frederick was still here.
Lucina considered taking his hand, but the eyes on her held her back. "Of course I remember your promise," she said. "And I wouldn't have it any other way than to see you next to me when we rebuild Altea. I have plans for you, old man. Come on, let's not keep my first petitioner waiting."
Frederick's relieved smile gave him a boyish touch he was usually missing. "Good. Thank you."
Together they quit the rebels caught in their preparations and followed the broad-shouldered petitioner. He guided them along Etrys' prettier avenues, past brick-build mansions and below the arches of the local aqueduct. Apart from a handful curious eyes behind curtains and latticed windows, the Pheraen civilians avoided them. Whether they hid themselves out of fear or active resentment, Lucina could not tell.
In a back yard predestined for an ambush, her guide concluded the tour. A metal sign with the Pheraen eagle above an anvil identified the building in the back as a smithy, and one with an official business license at that. The tang of coals and fresh steel clung to the high stone walls.
"My wife is not here," the owner of the smithy said and walked up to the forge. Few embers glimmered in the ashes. "It's better she doesn't know. You quite upset her with what you said you'll do to the king."
Lucina entered the open workspace with cautious steps. Pliers, pokers, and hammers of every size and style covered even the smallest corner of the walls. On various tables lay metal objects in different stages of completion, from the skeletons of oil lamps and stirrups to rapiers of remarkable quality.
Lucina traced one of the fine blades with her thumb. Outstanding.
Fredrick shared her awe, dove into the forest of lances hanging from the ceiling to the right, and if no one stopped him, he would spend the next hour exploring the hidden riches of the room.
"Is this what you wanted me to see?" Lucina asked and picked a bronze shield from its rack. "Do you want to sell some of these to us? I can't imagine the imperial folks who collect your business fee will be thrilled to hear you are outfitting Altean rebels."
The blacksmith crossed his massive arms. "This shop pours in enough coin to make a living. It's not as prestigious as my profession at the Glass Fortress, but I like it better this way. Fewer warmongering knights among my clientele."
"Your talents are wasted on pots." Frederick nodded towards a pile of metal household goods before he returned to admire the intricate decorations on the longsword in his hand. "With swords like this, you could make a name for yourself as the finest blacksmith of the Empire. The king himself might ask for your service."
"And then I'll forge him a second Binding Blade with which to start another war? No thanks."
"A sword isn't merely a tool for war. It is a symbol of a knight's honor." Frederick glanced at Lucina. "More importantly, a man needs a sword to protect what is worth protecting."
"Whatever you say." The blacksmith pulled an unfinished claymore out of the forge. "But a sword is made sharp so it can cut. And you can't protect a person if you're not willing to kill another person in return. Life is give and take. Everything else is wishful thinking."
"Maybe," Lucina said, "but I won't stop searching for a way that ensures the freedom of Altea without sacrificing Pheraens in the process."
The blacksmith studied Lucina through squinted eyes. "That's why I approached you. I saw you calling that wyvern off the soldiers. They may be Pheraens, and for all I know one of them could have played his part in the destruction of the Glass Fortress. One of them could have set my old house on fire. But these people are also my customers and my bench-neighbors during prayer."
"Then you don't resent the king for what he took from you?"
"No. I didn't know King Marth well enough to have a grasp on his character. I can't say whether he deserved to die. But under His Highness, King Roy, I've had the chance to expand my business and enjoy a life free of war and invasion. It's a good and honest life, no matter what flag flutters over my head. Work's hard, but that's always been the case. I don't want all this go up in the flames of another political upheaval." He spread his arms to include his little kingdom, the iron works and tools he had created and collected. A father could not look with more pride at his offspring.
Lucina didn't know what to say. If the blacksmith had dragged her to his workshop in an attempt to convince her to lay down her arms and surrender her cause, then she had no choice but to disappoint him. More than Naga's and Marth's instructions, the rebels under her command urged her to battle Roy. She fought to fulfill their dreams, that's what she had told Ike.
But their dreams conflicted with the blacksmith's. Lucina's goal conflicted with the wishes of uncounted, nameless, faceless Pheraens, and in toppling the Empire, she might ruin the futures of all of them. Could she make this trade with a clear conscious?
Life was give and take. And even with Naga's blessing, Lucina could not bypass this law. All she could do was scramble for a compromise and shut out the voices of those she wronged.
"I'm sorry." Lucina put back the shield she had been holding and turned to leave. "I won't stray from the path I set out on. Whatever you say won't change my mind. The Pheraen Empire will fall."
"We'll see." The blacksmith kneeled down, and out of a hidden compartment underneath the forge he pulled out a wooden crate. "Either way, this is yours. Take it. I don't want this thing to take away space in my shop anymore."
Lucina, although she hesitated, opened the lit. The gleam of polished steel greeted her from inside the crate, indigo steel with gold decorations, immaculate and fresh from the forge. Her fingers found not a single nick when she lifted the first item out of its resting space: a breast plate. And amidst cushions of straw waited the remaining armor pieces; pauldrons, greaves for the lower leg, and two bracers.
The Altean blue dominated the entire set.
"I don't understand…" Lucina had trouble tearing her eyes from the armor to look at its creator, who regarded her admiration of his work with an air of satisfaction.
"I started forging it when I heard about your victory in Persis. An armor worthy of King Marth's daughter. With more time I could have added some polish and maybe a helmet. But Naga didn't want it to happen that way, it seems. You have to be careful, the bracers only protect the outer side of your forearm. So keep up your guard." And he helped Lucina to put on a bracer.
Piece by piece, plate by plate, Lucina traded her look of a shabby, underequipped rebel to that of a knight. While heavy, the steel allowed for free movement and wouldn't look out of place next to her finest ceremonial armor from her time in Lycia.
"Why would you give this to me?" Lucina asked while adjusting one of the pauldrons. "Why would you give me something so valuable when you know that I'm going to war against your king?"
The blacksmith fastened the final strap on the breastplate and stepped back to appreciate his work. "Call it an investment in the future leader of Altea if you will. Call it an attempt to compensate for all the Altean knights my armors and weapons couldn't protect."
"There has to be a way to repay you. Even if you don't accept coins, take them for your wife or your neighbors."
He dismissed Lucina's efforts to reach for the few gold pieces in her tunic. "No need. I doubt my wife would touch anything you brought into her house. You can do me a favor by remembering our conversation. And if you manage to rebuild Altea, try not to run the nation into another war. For the rest of my days, I only want to forge door handles and candlesticks."
"Then will you at least tell me your name?"
He gave a rumbling laugh. "I appreciate the sentiment. But my name's not important. Names come and go, and they don't define us any more than the doublet we put on. What matters is my story. Take that with you instead."
"Thank you," Lucina said and shook his hand. "I will remember. And I will wear your armor with honor."
"May Naga be with you."
Lucina smiled. "I have a feeling she keeps a watchful eye on me already."
She turned for the exit, but Frederick called out to the blacksmith before he resumed position as her second shadow. "I must admit that I was wary of your motives when you approached Lucina. And for my former harshness, I apologize. What you have done for her can hardly be compensated for with coins. But please accept my gratitude also." His picture-perfect bow would not have looked out of place at Roy's court.
"The apology's more than enough," the blacksmith grumbled. "Now get lost, I'll have another customer here in a minute. Rebels are bad for business."
With a last nod on Lucina's part and a second bow on Frederick's part, they took their leave. Thanks to the armor, Lucina's steps now sounded louder on the cobblestone, and she tricked herself into thinking her presence carried more weight due to the change of outfit alone. Like this she might meet Roy for the first time as an equal.
"I haven't seen you in such high spirits in a while," Frederick said. "The armor suits you."
"I'm surprised you aren't more enthusiastic yourself. With this thing, you can finally sleep without having to worry for my safety all day long. You won't have to jump in and use your own body as my shield, and I won't have to see you hurt like in Terra."
Frederick stopped. His eyes rested on the stone wall next to them without seeing the mortar bulging out of the groves.
The energy with which Lucina had climbed the street before vanished in an instance. "Frederick? Did I say something wrong?"
He struggled to respond. "I apologize—"
"Again? Come on, there's nothing worth—"
But Frederick interrupted her for perhaps the first time in her life. "I apologize for slowing you down. I realize that I lack the aptitude for strategies and political thinking, your conversations with the Lorca have reminded me of this. I do not see the hidden mechanisms the way you do. Concerning fighters like Ike or members of the Twelve, I do not compare to them on the battlefield either. Being your shield is all I can do."
"I don't want to hear this."
"Lucina, please—"
"I don't want you to risk your life for my sake!" Lucina trembled. The clouds overhead thickened and stole what little daylight had remained between the houses. "My father already died for me. Isn't that enough?"
"Don't you realize this is what I want?" Frederick wrestled with himself, but he did manage to look Lucina in the eye. "This thought is selfish, I know this. But I believe in you, and I want to see you succeed. So badly it hurts sometimes. I can only hope to see you in the throne room of the Glass Fortress one day. Where you would have stood next to your father if it weren't for this abhorrent war. I cannot do much. But if I can realize this image through my life or my death, I will not hesitate. All I ask for is your blessing to do what I must."
Tears tickled the corners of her eyes, and Lucina did not know why. Was it gratitude for Frederick's loyalty, the fear of losing him, or the surprise over hearing him say what he desired for the first time? Was it all of these things?
Even though Frederick stood less than three feet away from her, she missed him.
Lucina's voice sounded hoarse when she spoke, but she continued regardless. "Frederick… what you have done for me already, I can't even begin to list. You taught me the right way to hold a sword, you protected me, you reassured me when no one else did. Even though you don't feel the cold, you brought me a second cape every time I stayed out late at night on my balcony back home. A man, knight or not, cannot do more. If I can pick someone to fight beside, I don't care if the other's a lord, the world's best strategist, or even Anri the Great – I will always choose you. I don't want you to be anyone you are not. I just want you to live."
"I… know."
"Then do me a favor and don't look at me like I'm going to disappear in a moment." Lucina knocked against his breastplate; both to rouse him out of his pained frowning and to confirm for herself that he was still here. "Give me something optimistic to think about. Tell me something about you."
Frederick straightened. "What do you want to hear?"
"Doesn't matter. What method do you use to fall asleep faster? Are oranges still your favorite fruits? How have you been using your spare time here in Eltrys? Whatever comes to your mind first, share it with me."
As though the momentary cleft between them had never existed, they both continued the way back to the other rebels at the same time. Frederick followed Lucina, half a step behind.
"I used the spare time to instruct the new recruits," he said. "Many of them are hopelessly undertrained for the upcoming battle. Then I took stock of our supplies. We are short on dried meat, but the Lorca bread should last us until Lycia. Afterwards…"
Lucina rolled her eyes. "Frederick?"
"Yes?"
"Your spare time. That means time outside of work."
Frederick reddened, and Lucina couldn't help but laugh.
"In that case…" he said and frowned even harder in an attempt to get his gears turning. "Did you know that Cordelia plays the harp?"
Lucina had struggled to contain her laughter before, but now she gave up for good. "Really?"
"Yes, and she plays quite excellently if I may say so. One of the new recruits carried the instrument with him, and Cordelia asked to borrow it. She told me her tutor would scold her for plucking the strings with an aggression to make one think she wanted to win a war against the instrument."
"I'm glad you and her are getting along better."
Frederick nodded. He even smiled. "She can be surprisingly talkative if she forgets the Pheraen Empire for a moment. All of these rebels have a story to tell, and how they came to join the resistance is only a small part of the whole. It is as the blacksmith said: we should take these stories with us."
"And remember their dreams…" Lucina concluded.
By the time she and Frederick rejoined the rebels, Tiki had mobilized an army and an airborne search part to look for them. She sulked because Lucina hadn't offered her to tag along and explore Eltrys. But the others were content with admiring Lucina's new armor, and even Rath interrupted the scolding of his fellow Lorca for a complimentary nod.
The party mounted not long after, and although the first raindrops splashed on their helmets and capes, Lucina spurred her horse towards the capital.
Frederick followed half a step behind.
Notes: I didn't realize how much I myself have missed Frederick until I reread this chapter. He's a gift.
