Chapter 57: Agartha on the Move

17th day of the Verdant Rain Moon 1181. Aegir territory.

Haran loved his people and his nation. It had been this love which had compelled him to sign up with the army. He wished to defend his people, and it had only been logical to do so from within the armed forces. Then, war had broken out, and he had been confronted with all of its horrifying effects. He had witnessed atrocities, had been forced to commit them, even. And now he knew that, for the love of his people, he had to fight against them.

The decision had not been easy by any means. Knowing that Agartha's leadership was not to be followed was one thing, but fighting against them was another. They did lead the Agarthan people, after all, and Haran loved his people. He had no wish to kill any of them. Sadly, however, the consequences of not doing so had eventually convinced him.

Surprisingly, the impetus for that decision had come from the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros. It was clear, even at a glance, that the woman absolutely loathed the Agarthan people as a whole, yet she had reached out to him and those like him.

"Show me that your people are more than savages. Mother thinks you can be saved. Convince me that she is right," had been the first thing she had said to him after she had summoned him for the first time.

At first, Haran had only been appointed as the overseer of all Agarthan captives. He kept them pacified and organised as they did their penal labour. The farming said captives had been forced to do, and which they were still doing, was actually not a bad punishment. It did not wound their pride too badly, and once Haran had explained that learning how to work the fields on the surface was a good thing for the future of the Agarthan people, the grumbling had died down. Alas, it had not stayed at farming.

News from the front occasionally reached the captives. Atrocities committed at the behest of the Agarthan leadership made the captives uneasy. Yes, they had dreamed of retaking the surface and subjugating the surface-dwellers, but the extent of the slaughter and the brutality had given them pause. The truth of the Dark Shells, shared by victims of them, had also incensed the captives. Eventually, a group had formed which strongly protested the methods employed by the current government.

The Archbishop had eventually gotten wind of this and made a proposal. The result of it was the small Agarthan host he was now commanding. Their orders and goal were to join the war on the side of the Church of Seiros and its allies. If they contributed enough, the Archbishop would argue against harsh conditions for the eventual peace treaty.

With the combination of that offer and the moral issues of allowing the current leadership to persist, the Agarthan Exile Legion had been formed. It was relatively small when compared to the total number of captured Agarthans, but the roughly 15'000 soldiers were still a force to be reckoned with. The number of supporters it had was far higher than the number of its members, yet most could not stomach fighting their own people. Nevertheless, they were significant addition to the allied nations of Fodlan.

All of this had led up to the current situation Haran found himself in. He was not only on campaign again but also fighting against his fellow Agarthans at the side of the new Emperor of Adrestia and the Fell Star's champion. It was a bizarre set of circumstances for any Agarthan, but war made for strange bed-fellows, as the saying went.

He had just finished explaining the background of his forces' existence to these "bed-fellows," and it seemed that they believed him. While most elected to stay silent, the principal commanders did speak.

"That does sound like grandmother," commented Byleth.

Edelgard beside him raised an eyebrow. "Converting the enemy to the cause? No, that is definitely not her style."

He shook his head. "No, what I meant is that she likes being secretive and forgets to tell people the relevant details. Her grudging acceptance of those of Sothis' edicts she doesn't agree with fits as well."

"Doesn't approve of?" interjected Haran. "She was the one to propose the formation of my army."

"Yet you know she despises you," countered Byleth. "Grandmother has no love for the Agarthan people, but Sothis wishes to make peace with you, so she follows."

Edelgard added, "Her introductory speech to you also sounds like right out of Hyperion's playbook."

"It's kind of amusing. As much as she has issues with him, she still follows his directions and example quite often," said Byleth.

Haran was a bit lost since he lacked context. "Is that good or bad?" he asked.

"It's most likely good for you," said Byleth. "Hyperion was the first to advocate for reconciliation with Agartha."

"I admit that it took me some time to agree with him due to my grudge against your people, but he managed to convince me," spoke the Emperor.

That brought a frown to Haran's face. "What is your grievance with my people? Was it our interference in Adrestia's politics?"

Edelgard's nostrils flared in tandem with her anger as she heard this question. "Ask someone else later. I do not have the stomach to explain it again. I also fear that my fury would get the better of me if I did. Just know that what your people did to my family has earned them my hatred."

No fool, Haran stopped this line of inquiry. "Very well. I will ask your attendant later."

"It's a harrowing story," said Byleth, "No worse than what Thales has been doing to the Agarthan people recently, but also not much better. Merely the scale is different."

Haran clenched his fist at the reminder. News of the massacre in the lower reaches of Shambhala had reached Garreg Mach thanks to Hanneman's long-range communication spell. Byleth had subsequently explained it to Haran and the Exile Legion. To say they had reacted with outrage was a huge understatement.

"I see," he said. "In that case, I will offer my apologies."

Edelgard shook her head and retorted, "Say that again after you figure out what happened, and maybe I'll believe you. For now-"

"-Enemy approaching," interrupted Byleth.

He had partially summoned his helmet hours ago. Through it, he received a constant stream of information from the Holy Tomb's sensors about the enemy's positioning. It was why he had been comfortable having a conversation on their way to the battlefield. However, the time for conversation was now over. The readings he had confirmed that the troops had to be readied for battle.

Clearly, Edelgard knew that as well. "Get your troops in position," she ordered her fellow commanders. "Byleth, your forces will take the centre. Petra and Bernadetta's contingent will support you. Haran, your Agarthans shall hold the southern flank. Mine will be at the northern one. The backline shall be held by Linhardt and Lysithea in joint command with Dorothea acting as their Lieutenant. Hubert, have the scouts confirm enemy formation and composition. We don't know if our means of collecting intel can be fooled."

"At once, your Majesty," replied Hubert.

Byleth and Haran confirmed their orders as well, as did the other officers present, and left to fulfil them.

Thanks to the retreat Edelgard had ordered some time ago, reinforcements from the closed northern front had arrived in time to join the main host. Even though only the forward elements had arrived as of yet, they were enough to bolster her forces significantly. So, in conjunction with Haran's troops and fresh recruits from Imperial territory, she was about evenly matched with the opposing host.

The scouts Hubert had sent out returned in short order. The news they brought was both good and bad. It was good in the sense that the forces bolstering Duke Aegir's own were not Agarthan, thus leading to higher combat morale for Haran's soldiers. It was bad in that they had demonic beasts, resurrected warriors and the equally resurrected "Heroes" Goneril and Blaiddyd. Despite the grim prospect, however, it was good to have the intel.

"Tell the others to prepare for a charge," Edelgard told a runner. "If what the scouts say is true, the enemy have replicas of their Heroes' Relics. We cannot afford to receive a charge from them. We will have to be first."

"Yes, Your Majesty!" said the runner before seeing to his task.

The order was relayed in time for preparations to be made. Byleth's corps was already in a wedge formation, covered by Petra's light infantry and Bernadetta's archers. The other troop complements were also ready, although Haran's Agarthan forces were slightly ahead of the other flank due to lack of cavalry and flying troops. The additional benefit of this was that it appeared to be an almost typical oblique formation instead of one intended to charge. With any hope, it would work to confuse the enemy for a bit.

Soon, the two forces came into appropriate distance, and the order to charge was given. Battle was joined in short order.

As much as Nemesis' warriors were fierce, it was clear immediately that they suffered from one key disadvantage. Their prowess and strength was significant, but they had no clue about modern tactics. They understood the importance of the flanks, of course, but complicated stratagems and unit cohesion were not their thing. The fought expecting to clash with Adrestian troops from eleven centuries ago, not modern forces led by properly educated officers. The results were obvious.

The massed pike tactics of the Church troops and the increasingly popular team system invented by Jeralt and now employed by the Adrestian forces turned into a meatgrinder for the resurrected warriors. Hundreds were cut down within minutes of the charge. More followed in the minutes to come, although the rate slowly decreased. The warriors proved to be wholly inadequate to counter the tactic.

Equalising this state somewhat were other factors. The Aegir troops were by now familiar with the tactics employed by their enemies and were thus better prepared to counter them. In addition, the demonic beasts controlled by a small contingent of a few dozen Agarthans kept a portion of Edelgard's army busy. And lastly, there were Goneril and Blaiddyd with their Relic replicas. So, while the majority of the Empire's enemies were disadvantaged, they had strong support.

Not to be outdone, however, Byleth became more active as well. He knew that he could not afford to let the two "Heroes" gain momentum. The enormous casualties this would ensure were not something he was willing to take. His response to the red glow of their weapons was to don the Raiment of the First Principle and head straight for them.

The matter was somewhat complicated by the fact that they stood on opposite ends of the field. This meant he had to separate from his troops to deal with them and prioritise one side over the other. He chose Blaiddyd's southern flank to prevent the collapse of Haran's troops. They were bereft of advanced tactics, after all, and had the greatest pressure applied to them. It also helped that Blaiddyd wielded a spear, which Byleth was marginally more skilled at fighting than an axe.

This would have mattered little with opponents of lesser skill and power, but Byleth had no intention of underestimating his opposition. That was the domain of fools who got themselves killed. No, he needed to choose the easier target first, seeing as both were tough and time was of the essence.

"Shamir, you have the command!" he instructed his second-in-command. He turned to his squire Lars and said, "Keep the bodyguard unit near me, but I need space. They can't get too close."

Without saying anything more, he started carving a swathe of destruction across the battlefield on his way to the enemy southern flank. Lars, Jana and the former mercenaries of Jeralt's company followed him, dealing with any stragglers Byleth left in his wake.

The resulting gap in the line was quickly exploited by Petra, who had her soldiers fill it, disrupting the enemy further. She stopped near the southern end of the area that was designated as the centre, at which point Byleth's spearhead advance was covered by Haran's troops.

From that point onward, it did not take long for the Knight of the Covenant to meet his adversary. The man was easily visible, considering that his weapon glowed red as he viciously hacked apart entire companies. He was thus both obvious and an easy target.

Dozens of spears of light rained on his position, all launched by Byleth. Some were of the exploding variety, which disturbed Blaiddyd's attack and forced him to concentrate on his attacker.

"I see. The incarnation of the Beast. I'm looking forward to-" began the resurrected man. Byleth tuned him out, however.

I think I now understand Hyperion's disdain for monologuing during battle, thought the former mercenary, It's incredibly cliché and incredibly foolish.

While his opponent was still boasting, Byleth continued his assault. More spears of light shot towards Blaiddyd while a glowing sword manifested in his hand. This resulted in the old warrior being forced on the backfoot.

Blaiddyd was not one of the Ten Elites for nothing, however. He recovered quickly and brought about his weapon. It smashed into the hastily erected AT field of Byleth and nearly broke it. The field was significantly weaker without the boost provided by Hyperion, after all. The reaction was swift nonetheless, and the retaliatory hew of Byleth's sword made a cut on his opponent's left arm.

This was one of the reasons why Byleth had chosen to fight Blaiddyd first. In duels, pole weapons were at a disadvantage, as they required two hands to be wielded properly.

The resurrected warrior's response was to initiate a combat art. Byleth readied his defences as quickly as he could. No weapon of a Relic's calibre was designed to cause less than widespread destruction. If he was not smart about this, he would die. Fortunately, he was smart, and thanks to Dimitri, he knew the weakness of the particular combat art this weapon was capable of unleashing.

He dodged the mighty hew of his opponent by jumping over it. Normally, this would have been a foolish thing to do, since giving up one's footing was dangerous, but he avoided the wave of power exuded by the Areadbhar replica. It hit some of the soldiers behind him, yet he remained unaffected. His descent then placed his feet on the spear's shaft, which unbalanced his opponent heavily. The manoeuvre was nearly complete.

The end of their little duel was quick. With a lightning-fast hew, Byleth decapitated his opponent. The red glow of the black Relic died with the Elite Blaiddyd.

The death of their leader threw the resurrected warriors into disarray. Haran took advantage of this by renewing his soldiers' charge. As the enemy lost cohesion, the Exile Legion began to overrun them.

With that done, Byleth turned his attention towards the other parts of the line. He need not have bothered, however, as the others had proven themselves capable enough to deal with their own challenges.

The second red glow from Goneril's weapon was absent. As Byleth would later find out, Edelgard had baited the man into attacking her. She had sustained moderate injuries – among them a broken arm – but she had also given Hubert the opportunity to blast Goneril to smithereens with his most powerful magical attacks.

The centre under Shamir was currently also in the process of fulfilling its objectives. She had been continuing the advance of the Church troops, and Petra and Bernadetta were doing an exemplary job of filling up any gaps in the line. They were being assisted by Lysithea and Linhardt, who were now committing the reserves and warping them behind the enemy centre. It was a picture-perfect pincer movement.

Byleth aided this effort by shifting his focus from offense to support. He rerouted his magic to Warp disruption fields. While he was not very good at casting them, he had enough power to make short-lived ones until the professional Imperial mages got around to casting better ones. By the way the battle was going, it appeared that his contribution was sufficient.

A quarter of an hour later, the battle was for all intents and purposes over. The Elites' warriors were in full flight by now. The Aegir troops in the centre were completely surrounded as well, and their morale was non-existent at this point. The final nail in the coffin followed.

"Duke Aegir is dead!"

The message spread like a wildfire, and with it, the Aegir troops surrendered. There was no more point in fighting.

With the battle concluded, the highest-ranking officers converged to take stock of the situation. The fight may have been over, but the aftermath had to be handled swiftly.

"Has the Duke's death been confirmed?" asked Shamir.

Hubert nodded. "Yes. I have confirmed it myself, as has Ferdinand. An arrow hit him in the neck."

"We can expect Aegir territory to fold without further resistance," said Edelgard. "He brought the vast majority of his troops with him."

"Won't the fleeing enemy troops try to stage a defence there?" asked Lysithea.

It was a valid question. The troops Goneril and Blaiddyd had brought to the battlefield had not been annihilated. Many had fled.

"I suspect they will be retreating to Hrym territory to regroup," commented Hubert.

Edelgard spoke up. "I have already given Jeritza orders to chase them, so that will likely be the case."

Byleth now asked a question as well. "Does that mean the rest of our army will take up pursuit?"

She nodded in response and said, "Yes. We will move together until we reach Hrym territory. From there on out, my Adrestian forces will eradicate the remnants of the army we defeated here today, and then move through Alliance territory to reinforce Claude once Duke Gerth has arrived with his troops. You, Byleth, will need to turn around and head to break the siege of Garreg Mach. And General Haran probably has plans to head straight for Shambhala."

"That is the case, yes. My first priority is to see to my people," responded Haran.

"In that case, you'll probably run into our allies there," said Byleth.

"Allies?" asked Haran.

"Let me explain…"

26th day of the Verdant Rain Moon 1181. Shambhala, rebel base.

"We begin offensive operations today," began Kronya.

She had been released from the infirmary two days ago, but she was already itching to get back into action. It was understandable, seeing as everyone was getting antsy. After what had happened in the lower levels of the city, the people were out for blood. The news had spread to every corner of Shambhala, no matter how hard the government had tried to suppress it. Unrest was simmering, and the tiniest spark would set it off. It was the perfect opportunity to get the ball rolling. The planning for it had been completed as well in that time, so everyone was chomping at the bit to get started.

Fortunately for them, their first attacks would begin today. This necessitated a mission briefing, which was exactly what Kronya was doing right now.

She continued, "From what our informants on the inside tell us, the one in charge of Shambhala's garrison is Chilon. Don't expect mercy from any of his soldiers. The few of them with morals have already joined our cause as sources of intel. This is both good and bad. Bad in that our enemies won't care for civilian casualties but good in that we know their numbers and composition."

Indeed, as news of the massacre in the lower levels had spread, support for Thales' government had fallen. Many civilians had been approached and had joined Kronya's rebellion. Soldiers had also been carefully observed, and some of them had also been contacted. It was clear, however, that the majority of Chilon's butchers would stay loyal to the man.

The briefing went on. "The garrison force is comprised of roughly 5'000 soldiers. They are gathered in the upper levels of city. While this means they are concentrated, it also gives us free rein to dismantle Chilon's grasp on the middling levels. And that is precisely where we will begin our hits."

Kronya took a brief moment to catch her breath and gather her thoughts. Then, she continued, "As you know, the middling levels are where Shambhala's food production facilities are located. Our plan is to seize these facilities. Before we can do that, though, we need to take all accessways connecting the upper levels to the middling levels. Otherwise, we're simply inviting Chilon to come down here and crush us. We simply don't have the numbers to measure up to his forces yet. That's why we our first priority is to capture and blockade the grand hallways before we can take control of the food supply."

"If we are successful," chimed in Nikola, "We will have plenty of time to convince the people to join our side. From there on, it will only be a question of time until Chilon is ousted."

Kronya took the floor again and spoke, "That said, we will not be replacing one unjust regime with another. Things will have to change, or there will be another Thales, another Chilon, and yet more ruthless tyrants. It wouldn't be tomorrow, maybe not even in a year, but it would happen. No, we will have to change the way we think and the way we govern ourselves. We do not yet know how we must change, but we will. And when it's time for us to stop hiding underground and come to the surface again, we will be greeted not as enemies but as friends. This is my dream for our people, and if it is your dream as well, then let us make it a reality together!"

That part had not been planned in advance. The little speech was improvised, but it came from the heart. Kronya truly meant it. It also boosted morale as a side effect; at least if the cheering was anything to go by. And so, Kronya improvised again.

"For all Agarthans, let there be light!" she shouted and cast a sphere of sunlight at the ceiling.

It was ironic that she used the words Thales would have used in a future that was now no longer possible. Nevertheless, it was a sort of rallying cry for the Agarthan people. They revered the sun and desired to live in its light. It was thus an effective means of rallying them.

"For all Agarthans, let there be light!" echoed the assembled rebels.

The light did not last long. After it had gone out and the crowd had calmed down a little, Kronya concluded the meeting, "Find your units to get details on your assigned duties for the operation, and get ready. We're moving out in two hours. Dismissed."

People dispersed in short order. As instructed, they headed for their individual units. It was no different for the Clergy of Hyperion. They met in their own corner of the base.

"Are you sure that was wise?" asked Philip. "You came dangerously close to making promises I'm not sure we can keep."

Kronya inclined her head. "Well, there is that danger," she admitted, "But we need to motivate our people, and I think the plan is realistic. Besides, I think we'll receive reinforcements."

Communication with Lord Hyperion and Lady Sothis was still difficult due to the interference caused by their presence in a different timeline. Despite this, some information made it through, even if a lot of miming was involved. One of the pieces of information they had been able to gather was that of incoming support.

"I don't doubt that, but we don't know how many troops we'll get and who will lead them," pointed out Nadja.

"We can't exactly afford overconfidence, you have to admit," commented Anselma.

A somewhat sour look overcame Kronya. She knew this, but she had arguments of her own. "The force they'll send us will hardly be a small patrol squad. I'm not expecting a huge army, but we don't need one of those. A small one would be enough to trap Chilon between us and them."

"Well, you're not exactly wrong," said Nikola. "I'm cautiously optimistic about our chances here. Thales has emptied out Shambhala, which leaves Chilon with no hopes of additional support unless he starts to conscript people, but he'd never do that without Thales' permission."

"That's begs another question, thought," said Anselma.

Curious gazes met hers. "And what question would that be?"

Anselma then asked, "What is Thales using all the troops for?"

As if to punctuate her question, the underground city began to tremble. The tremors occurred in short bursts with several seconds of pause between them. After a minute, it was over, but there was now an air of anxiety that remained.

"What the heck was that?" asked Anselma.

"That," said Nikola, "Is huge trouble."

Roughly the same time. Daphnel territory, hills near Aillel.

"We may have a problem," muttered Claude.

"Gee, you think?!" responded Hilda with annoyance and no small amount of anxiety.

"Will you two stop bickering and come up with solutions?" asked Dimitri from the side.

The problem in question was the current strategic situation. While it was true that Claude had bled the superior enemy army with his tactics and strategy, he had run into the biggest obstacle yet: lack of space. It had come so far that Dimitri's army had been roped into his strategy. They had driven off the combined army of Agarthans and resurrected warriors from Derdriu, but now they were with their backs to the base in Aillel and had no further room to continue their hit-and-run tactics. A pitched battle now seemed unavoidable unless the allied forces were willing to let the enemy spill into unguarded territory.

"We don't really have a lot of options, do we?" muttered Sylvain.

Claude agreed. "Yeah, retreating without a fight won't do any good now. We'll have to fight and keep the enemy army from reaching Aillel."

Dimitri frowned and said, "Should we not hold there? It's clear that they want to reach Garreg Mach."

"That would trap us there," interjected Felix. "They'd only need to leave a force large enough to keep us in check and can then raid, raze and conquer the Alliance as they see fit."

"So we do have to fight here," said Marianne. "It doesn't look good, does it?"

"Don't say things like that!" chided Annette, "We could win here."

The leader of the Alliance shook his head. "I wouldn't bet any money on it. We'd need a miracle to pull it off, and while I'm quite the tactician, even I can't do something like that in this terrain."

"In this terrain?" questioned Lorenz.

"In a desert, we'd smash them, but that's neither here nor there," said Claude. "Fact is, we can't win, but we have to fight."

"But how do we do that without losing the war?" asked Ignatz.

Brows were scrunched together as everyone thought it over. It was a tough question. The answer came from an unexpected source.

"You said we couldn't retreat without a fight, right?" asked Ingrid.

Claude nodded. "That's right."

Ingrid then made her proposal. "So we could retreat during the fight. Give them a bloody nose and make them chase us. We retreat to Aillel and make them attack it. Then we let them through."

"You want to let them through?" asked Hilda. "Are you out of your mind."

The others shared similar thoughts, and did not hesitate to voice them. Claude and Sylvain, however, stayed quiet until the others had calmed down.

"It could work," said Sylvain, "But it's risky. Ingrid, if this plan of yours fails, your family's lands will be defenceless."

Ingrid nodded. "I'm aware, but I'm willing to take the risk."

"Now wait a second," interrupted Raphael. "What are you talking about? How is letting the enemy through smart?"

"Let me clear it up," said Claude, "If I understood Ingrid's idea correctly, it means we dictate our enemies' path by luring them where we want them to be."

"Yes," said Ingrid. "If our lines at Aillel 'break,' then they'll march through the pass in direction of Garreg Mach. Once they're in the pass, their numerical advantage won't matter anymore. We can pincer them between our army and the Monastery walls."

"That's a great plan," praised Dimitri.

"Thank you, Your Highness," replied Ingrid with a smile.

With the plan now made, the discussion of its implementation began. Tasks and flanks were assigned and an order of retreat hashed out. There was a lot to organise

However, the planning was interrupted when a soldier burst into the command tent.

"Enemy army on approach!" she shouted.

Everyone's hearts raced. "Why haven't the scouts reported anything?" asked Claude

"We suspect the enemy used the hills in conjunction with disguise fields," answered the soldier.

That was probably true. Every scout was trained in the use of the Reveal spell, but the enemy also had scouts, and if the Alliance's and Kingdom's scouts were sighted early enough, measures could be taken against them. No method of intel gathering was flawless.

Claude began giving orders, "Have everyone form up and-"

A second soldier burst into the tent. "Purple rings in the sky!"

Claude paled. He could only hope that there was enough time to respond. He ran out of the tent and yelled at the top of his lungs, "General alert! Erect the redirection wards immediately!"

A few mages close enough to hear him immediately cast the spell in question, Marianne included. Over the next few seconds, further instances of the spell had been cast, but by far not the whole camp was covered. Then, there was no more time.

Over a dozen of the weapons the Agarthans called Pillars of Light fell upon the combined Alliance and Kingdom army. The redirection wards did their job, but as they were hastily designed and now hastily cast, their effects were not as strong as desired. While the Pillars did not hit the army directly, most of them hit the side of a mountain not far away from the army, and one landed only a hundred metres away from the northern side of the camp.

The results were devastating. The impact near the northern flanked had killed thousands with its explosive force. On top of that, the mountain that had been hit was now collapsing, and the detritus was rolling down the hillside in an avalanche that would no doubt kill many more soldiers. Panic spread on top of it, and the organisation of the army was shot.

"Mages, make a trench for the avalanche to follow! Cavalry and flying troops with me! Everyone else, beat it! Retreat to Aillel to regroup! Dimitri is in command until I'm back," ordered Claude.

Under the capable direction of Marianne and Annette, the mages responded fast enough to prevent the worst of the avalanche's impact. Powerful spells blasted a series of holes that quickly formed a trench. Unfortunately, the avalanche still destroyed significant parts of the camp. Hundreds ended up dying because of the trench's insufficient depth. Despite this, however, many more lives and supplies were saved.

Claude meanwhile rallied the mobile troops. Nader, Lorenz and Sylvain quickly followed and took command of the cavalry. They were assembled in short order.

"I'll make it short. Our task in reconnaissance and harassment. We need to keep the enemy from reaching the rest of the army," said the Almyran prince.

A red glow shone over the hills, halting further instructions. When it showed no signs of abating, Claude amended his previous orders. "Looks like our first priority is finding out what the Hell this is. Let's move."

Claude took to the skies without further delay. His ascent was as fast as the physical limitations of his cardiovascular system allowed, but it still made him dizzy. He carried on nonetheless, and he hurried onwards with his fellow flyers.

As they crested over the hill, they found the source of the red glow. On another hilltop further west stood a tall figure with a long-black sword. The two stones in it, though this detail was not discernible at this distance, glowed an intense red. It grew stronger and the air became heavy with it. Whatever it was, it was not good news at all.

When the glow had reached its highest intensity, the tall man raised his sword and swung it downwards in the direction of the mountains. Earth and stone were torn apart like paper. The mountain which had been hit shattered into tiny pieces, leaving only rubble and a huge gash in the Oghma mountain range that cleaved deep into it; deep enough to reach the pass. Only one thing in the historical records had ever had this power, and Claude now knew that the Sword of the Creator – or at least a similarly powerful replica of it – had been used.

"Shit," cursed Claude.

Half a day later, evening. Aillel Outpost.

The bloodied and exhausted forms of the cavalry and the flying troops began trickling into the camp. Dirt and grime were on all of them, and some had injuries. They had clearly fought on their way here.

The officers in the camp rushed to meet them and get a status update. Among them was Ingrid, who had been posted as look-out during the retreat of the main force instead of joining the other mobile troops. In the lead was Dimitri, however, who had been in charge of the camp since his arrival. He made a beeline for Claude as soon as he spotted him.

"What's the situation?" asked the young King.

"Pretty damn bad. Not catastrophic, but it's still bad," answered Claude.

His breath was laboured and his face flushed, even if his skin tone made it a bit hard to see. He was also holding his side somewhat gingerly. He had likely been hit there, although not too hard. He seemed exhausted as well.

"Out with the details," urged Leonie. She had been with the escort of the main army as well. Her mercenaries did not do well in high-pressure situations without support.

Claude elaborated, "The bad news is that our original plan has failed. The majority of the enemy army is now marching through the gap in the mountains into the pass. The good news is that the part of the army that is instead marching for us is small enough for us to handle. A good 40'000 and change led by Riegan. It seems he didn't take well to me humiliating him on the strategic level."

Frowns spread among the officers. "That's not good. How lung until they're here?"

"We gave them a bloody nose and messed up their supply train," said Sylvain. "It'll take them some time to repair all the carts we wrecked. We bought about a day's time, I think."

Dimitri nodded sharply and said, "Good work. Leonie, Ingrid, I want you to send out scouts periodically. If that projection is wrong, we need to know as soon as possible. The rest of you, rest up."

Scout patrols were organised quickly. Light cavalry and pegasus riders were perfect for the job, and the system was well-established by now. So, the first scouts left in short order. Nobody wanted to be surprised.

That left the exhausted troops to properly join the camp and rest. Naturally, the officers were included in this. In the hubbub of activity, practically everyone missed Ingrid dragging off Sylvain to her tent.

"Not that I'm not happy to be in a beautiful girl's bedroom, but why am I here?" he asked.

Her cheeks burned red at the compliment. She should not have been affected by such a basic pick-up line, but she knew he was genuine. He was also too exhausted to consider his words properly, so she was not particularly mad.

To answer his question, she said, "You're here because you need some rest."

He countered, "I've got my own tent."

"Which you haven't set up, and frankly, you're in no condition to do so. Now lie down and let me fetch you something to eat and drink," she argued back.

Sylvain laughed. "Who am I to refuse? Fine," he conceded.

"Good," said Ingrid and turned to leave.

Before she could, however, Sylvain called, "Ingrid."

She turned again. "Yes?"

"Can you help me get out of my armour?" asked Sylvain.

The blonde woman's face flushed in embarrassment. She had failed to consider that Sylvain almost always wore full plate when going into battle. Getting out of it alone was a hassle, and with how exhausted the young man was, it would be nigh on impossible for him.

"Of course," she said.

She divested him of the actual plate first. It was heavy and cumbersome to remove, especially since Ingrid had no practice in doing so; her own cuirass required no such complex fiddling. Then she pulled off the chainmail underneath it. And finally, she helped him get out of the gambeson beneath it. Taking off the entire armour took about a quarter of an hour.

When she was done, she expected a comment along the lines of how he like that she'd undressed him. Instead, he simply said, "Thanks."

Ingrid was simultaneously happy and disappointed. The latter was a bit of a surprise to her, she considered. She had no care for such comments. Maybe she had simply grown used to his ways or perhaps she appreciated the veiled compliments that usually sat behind them. She would have to think about this later.

"You're welcome," she told him. "Now lie down while I get that meal I promised you."

He laughed again. "Sure."

She returned about twenty minutes later with a steaming bowl and a flagon. Apparently, the camp kitchens were quite busy. This was predictable due to the size of the force that had only just arrived. The soldiers were tired and hungry, after all. As such, it taken Ingrid some time to get a hot meal for Sylvain.

She helped him sit up and steadied is back before putting the bowl she had brought in his lap. A spoon was already in it. From what he cold surmise, it seemed to be a lentil-based dish.

"It's not the most delicious thing ever, but it should be okay," said Ingrid.

Sylvain shook his head. "It's alright. It's better than nothing."

He ate mostly in silence. He made noise, of course, but he did not talk. Neither did Ingrid. She merely helped him keep himself upright. It was a companiable silence they shared.

When he was about halfway through his meal, he chuckled. "It's kind of funny," he said.

"What is?" asked Ingrid.

He elaborated, "That you're doing this. This is the sort of stuff that couples do."

She gave him a flat stare. "You know that it's not like that. Dimitri and Felix would have helped you out of the armour as well; Annette too."

"Yeah, but they would've first helped me pitch my own tent or taken me to a communal one instead of dragging me to theirs," countered Sylvain.

"You have a point, but that is no-" began Ingrid.

He interrupted her, "But we're betrothed. My father sent me confirmation, and I'm sure yours sent you a letter as well. It changes the context here. Besides, this isn't how you'd normally treat me when I'm injured. There's a deeper motive behind your actions."

She deflated. She had forgotten that behind all the lax attitude and the carelessness was a keen mind. Sylvain was far smarter than most people realised. He had seen right through her.

"You're right," she admitted. "I just want this to work."

"The betrothal?" asked Sylvain. "You do know that this is just for your protection, right? You don't have to force yourself."

Ingrid growled. "Stop being so damn condescending to me! Do you really think I'm just some helpless damsel?"

"Of course not," he said with a scoff. "You're strong in body and mind. You're responsible and capable of solving most of your problems yourself. This just happened to be one you couldn't. I'm also aware that you don't love me, so don't fake it. There's nothing I hate more than false affection."

She frowned as she thought it over. In hindsight, she realised that they were stepping on each other's toes here. His constant denial of her attempts to get closer grated on her, obviously, and said attempts irritated him too. With this insight, she could respond appropriately.

"You're misunderstanding what I'm trying to do here," said Ingrid, "Yes, I don't love you. That's the problem, though. This isn't me trying to act like I'm madly in love with you. This is me trying to get closer to you so we can grow comfortable with each other. We'll be married eventually, and I don't want it to be cold and lonely."

Sylvain was now the one to frown. "I'm sorry," he said. "I just don't want to force you into anything. You trying to force yourself defeats the purpose in my eyes."

She shook her head. "I'm not forcing anything. Sylvain, we've been friends for almost all our lives. This is a change in the nature of our relationship, but it's not a painful one." Her voice and expression became stern as she added, "But if I catch you with another woman, it will be very painful for you. My husband will not be a philanderer."

He snorted at the slight change in topic. "As if I'd be stupid enough. I'm not going to cheat on…"

He trailed off, and Ingrid frowned again. She waited for him to continue, and he eventually did.

"You're the only woman I've ever really wanted," he said in an uncharacteristically small voice. "I…"

He trailed off again.

This time, she was glad that he did. She tried to process what he had just said. She obviously knew that he liked her, but that admission had been entirely unexpected. It also had far more impact than she was ready for.

"Sylvain-"

"That's why I hate to see you act like this," he continued. "You've always been out of reach. First because you were betrothed to Glenn and then because I made myself too unlikeable for any girl, let alone you. Seeing you acting like we're a couple when I know you're not in love with me; it's like seeing a dream turn into a nightmare in which I chain you to me in an unhappy marriage and make you miserable for the rest of your days, when I just wanted to be happy with you."

There were tears in his eyes as he said this. His beath grew short and his chest constricted itself. He had never vented like that to anyone but Mercedes. It was uncomfortable, and it threatened to overwhelm him, but he had to tell Ingrid all this. He did not want to jump this on her later on.

He took a deep breath and calmed his wavering voice before he went on, "I know it's not like that. You're not at fault here. It's my head messing with me, and without help from… the usual sources, I'm having difficulty getting through it."

Ingrid took the half-eaten lentil dish out of Sylvain's hands and slowly wrapped her arms around him as he finally lost his composure. She held him as he cried out his sorrow. He needed comfort, and she provided it. She was his friend, and she would be there for him.

"Sylvain," she said softly. "It doesn't have to be a nightmare. You won't make me miserable; I'm sure."

She actually believed this. The red-haired young man had recently shown his genuine side far more often than before. His confession to her could not have been more genuine. She was convinced that he would do anything and everything in his power to accommodate her.

Sylvain said nothing in response. Instead, he slackened in her hold. The tears stopped flowing, and his breathing became calmer. He had fallen asleep.

Ingrid laid him down on her sleeping mat. Her own sleeping arrangements did not trouble her in this decision. He deserved rest, and as he was her betrothed, she did not mind sleeping next to him on the same mat. They would spend every night of their lives sleeping next to each other eventually anyway.

As she settled next to him, she sent a silent prayer to the Goddess and her lover to calm Sylvain's mind and let him overcome his troubles. Before she fell asleep completely, she heard a response.

"We'll get right on that. That's right; we're back, bitches!"

The proclamation was followed by a reprimanding sigh.

AN: Hello there, my dear readers! Welcome back to yet another chapter of Headmates. I hope you enjoyed it.

There was some backstory on Haran's followers and the first taste of what the resurrected warriors of Nemesis are capable of, and it's less than the Agarthans hoped for. There is a reason why Claude's tattered Alliance army could take them on in Verant Wind. That said, they're still supremely dangerous. We also saw Kronya try and be an inspirational speaker, with unexpectedly great success. After that Nemesis ruined a stratagem completely, and he now threatens the Monastery. A siege from two sides is certainly troublesome. And finally, some relationship development for Ingrid and Sylvain, which I hope you all liked.

If you've spotted consistency errors anywhere, please tell me. I will correct them if/when time allows. I haven't had as much time as I've wanted these past few weeks, so errors have had a higher chance of sneaking in than usual.

That said, a big thank you to all my longtime readers and the surprisingly large number of newcomers. I appreciate every follow, favourite and review you have left.

Come back next time for the final chapter of the Three Hopes arc.

Until then. Stay happy and healthy, everyone!