Chapter 9
Admittedly, by the next dawn, I was barely alive. All those sleepless nights had finally begun to catch up with me, and as I shuffled into the common-room I began to think that I should probably take a mental health day or something.
Ya know, before the war and the screaming and the dying and mentally scarring stuff all started.
No matter what I did, I just couldn't sleep in my old room anymore. Archer helped, the old dog more than delighted that I had waved the 'off the bed' rule for him, but even with the great lump snuggled up to my side, sleep hadn't been forthcoming.
Running a hand down my face, trying to scrub some life back into it with sheer willpower, I was met with the familiar scents of breakfast as I shuffled into the common room. Fresh bread, no doubt with pots of jam and honey waiting, crisping bacon, a treat that Elle had scrounged up from Chrom's kitchen for me, fresh brewed coffee and tea, their aromas making my mouth water as I stopped one step into the room and gave a long, wide yawn.
"I think I just saw your brain," Noire giggled from one of the chairs.
I muttered something incoherent, beelining for the pile of bacon as she took a small sip of her coffee. I jammed a few slices of bacon into my mouth, hoping that eating would wake me up a little.
Blinking a few times, I shook my head.
I could have sworn Noire was sitting there, drinking coffee, but… no, that was impossible. I hadn't found any yet…
Or maybe I had, and I was so tired I'd just forgotten…
"Noire, sweetie," I started.
"Yes, father?" she answered.
"You know I love you, right?" I said.
"Of course," she giggled sweetly. "And I love you, too."
"Good," I nodded. "And you, loving your father, would definitely tell him if you'd discovered coffee, right?"
"Coffee?" she repeated innocently.
I frowned, tensing a little. I knew that tone of voice. That coy, too-innocent tone, the same as her mother's when she wanted something…
I slowly turned to face Noire. She was sitting, barefoot, with her knees up and her feet resting on the chair in front of her. My time-travelling daughter smiled radiantly at me from behind a steaming mug.
I crossed the space in two strides. Noire started to speak, but I mashed my hand into her face as I snatched the mug from her with the other, my daughter giving an indignant squawk.
I took an experimental sip as Noire squawked indignantly, eyes widening at the familiar, bitter taste.
I proceeded to upend the cup, downing it in a few gulps and ignoring the way it scalded my mouth.
It. Was. Coffee.
"I'M ALIVE AGAIN!" I declared, marveling at the cup.
"Great, now can I have my face back, please?" Noire asked, her voice muffled by my hand.
I jumped back, new vigor filling me as a blessed caffeine high hit my system.
"Where did you get this!?" I asked, a tad too loudly. "I've been looking for nearly two years!"
Noire frowned up at me for a moment, clearly nonplused at my behavior, but eventually the corners of her mouth twitched up. It started as a small chuckle, then a giggle, and soon she was laughing uproariously.
"What's so funny?" I asked, huffing. "I'm serious! Do you know what this means to me? It tastes like…"
"Like what?" Noire asked, wiping a tear of mirth from one eye.
"Well, it tastes like shit," I shrugged. "Clearly, there's gonna need to be some more trial and error in the roasting process; these beans were burned. But it… it tastes like…"
I looked down at the cup again, debating coming up with some other snarky remark, before turning back to Noire.
"It tastes like home," I said, truthfully. "Where did you even get this?"
"Anna," Noire shrugged. "It took a little while, but all I had to do was point her in the right direction."
I nodded, placing the empty mug down on the sideboard behind me.
"Thank you," I told her. "I… really, Noire, this…"
"Oh, don't get all weepy," she snickered. "I didn't actually get this for you. Well, not just you… I really needed it."
"Oh?" I asked, grinning.
"Yeah, I needed the boost," she shrugged.
As she spoke, she stood and stepped lightly around me, retrieving her cup and pouring herself another. She grabbed another, the biggest one in the collection, and filled that one up, too, before passing it to me.
"Between training and taking care of past… present… baby-me, it got to the point where tea wasn't cutting it anymore," she finished.
I slumped in my chair at her statement, looking down at the coffee in my hands with new appreciation.
"I find myself conflicted," I admitted. "On one hand, I really want to drink this coffee. But on the other hand, it's a symbol of the fact I'm a shitty father."
"Who says you're a shitty father?" Noire scoffed.
"Uh… evidence?" I said, looking up at her.
"How does being a father work in your 'world', then?" she asked bluntly.
"What?" I asked, caught wrong-footed.
"Here, especially in Ylisse, the father is very hands-off," Noire told me, matter-of-factly. "It's worse with nobility. It's normal for nobility to just send their children away, to not see them for years at a time. The simple fact that you even care about me, I mean baby-me, already makes you a better father than just about all of the noble parents in Ylisstol."
"Okay, but saying 'you're doing better than most' doesn't equal 'good'," I pointed out.
"Dad, I love you," Noire sighed, shaking her head. "But you need to pull your head out of your ass."
"Excuse you, young lady. You kiss your mother with that mouth?" I said, sitting up a little straighter.
"Dad, baby-me was, is, an infant," Noire said, slowly, like she was talking to an idiot. "She won't remember you were gone. I don't remember you were gone. You left her with people to take care of her, people that took damned good care of her, and people that care about her. You didn't just abandon her in the street."
"It's not exactly a 'parent' thing to do," I pointed out.
"Could you have taken care of her?" Noire asked pointedly.
I opened my mouth to respond, but paused, thinking. Really thinking about that question. Instead, I looked down at my coffee, realizing that no, I probably wouldn't have been able to properly care for her.
"Exactly," Noire huffed. "Stop beating yourself up about it. You're the only one that is. Well, the only one that is and actually means it. At the end of the day, you came back."
"Did you take a therapy class or something while I was gone?" I asked, without looking up.
Noire went silent, and I looked up, finding her looking at her own coffee now.
"I have the benefit of hindsight," she said, not looking up. "All the things that I wish I'd s-said, I actually can now. I… I know, in the future, you always worried that you weren't being a g-good father. But you were. I don't want you t-to go through that again."
"You know, I never really stopped to think about just how weird an experience this all must be for you lot," I commented.
I paused, deciding to finally take another sip of coffee. It truly was terrible, but it was coffee, so I followed that up with a second sip.
"I mean, if I had to go back in time, I'd probably kill my younger self for being a jackass," I shrugged.
"You did tell me to punch you in the face for you," Noire giggled.
"Was that as confusing for you to say as it was for me to hear?" I scoffed.
"I did have to think about it a little, yes," Noire smirked.
We both laughed a little at that, before descending into companionable silence, each lost in the depths of our own cups of thick, tar-like coffee. I took a few more sips before making a face and laughing again.
"God, this is fucking terrible," I chuckled.
"I know," Noire laughed. "But it's coffee. If you drink it fast, it's not so bad."
I took a sip, grimacing before just downing the rest of the cup.
"It's still the best damn thing I've tasted in months," I told her.
"Hopefully we can make a better batch next time," Noire sighed. "I miss when Bertha had the knack down."
"In the future?" I asked.
"Yeah, she was a wizard with coffee," Noire sighed wistfully.
"Give it time," I said. "She can even make tripe taste good, so I don't think it'll take her long. Just… don't let anyone else in on it yet. I don't need to scare them off coffee before we can even get the industry going."
"I'll keep that in mind," she said, smiling.
I gave a long sigh, leaning back in my chair for a moment before pushing myself up to my feet. Thanks to the coffee, my head only spun a little with the movement, and I stretched out my neck with little fuss.
It really was amazing and sad in equal measure just how much difference coffee made for me. I really fucking missed the strong caffeine.
"Alright, I have a meeting with the powers-that-be," I said glumly. "Chrom probably needs someone to tell him 'yes, it is okay to muster an army, you are Exalt, you can do that'."
Noire giggled, trying to hide it in her mug.
"Don't let Lucina hear you talking like that," she warned.
I blew a raspberry, stretching my arms above my head.
"It's not her I'm afraid of," I yawned. "It's the politics. Well, I should go get ready. I'm sure going to war is a long and tedious process that'll take all damn day."
"What the fuck do you mean we're not going to war!?"
"Do you really have to shout?" Chrom sighed. "I'm right here."
Nearly an hour after that spirits-lifting talk with Noire, I stood in Chrom's study with my palms braced on his desk, the man himself looking incredibly tired on the other side of it. I growled, already feeling the comforting fuzz of caffeine-high beginning to recede, leaving me tired and achy again.
"What. The fuck do you mean. We're not going to war?" I repeated slowly.
"I think the statement is quite self-explanatory," Chrom pointed out glibly.
"Chrom, I feel the need to ask," I said, eyes narrowing. "But are you retarded?"
"Now that's just plain rude," the Exalt huffed. "I could have you killed for that, you know."
"Explain, please," I ground out. "Preferably before I break a tooth grinding them."
As I finished speaking, I flopped back into the chair I'd just leapt out of, glaring petulantly at the younger man. We were alone in Chrom's study, or rather as alone as we could be with me being constantly trailed by a ninja, so no one had heard that outburst. Fortunately for me, because Frederick seemed about done with my 'disrespect' towards Chrom lately. He was busy with some 'project' that I didn't care enough about to even consider.
"It's quite simple," Chrom said. "The people don't want another war."
"Well, that's all well and good," I snapped. "But I don't think Valm's giving them much choice in the matter."
"I am aware," Chrom said calmly. "But I can't just up and declare war at the drop of a hat. Not unless there is a clear and present danger to the nation."
"And Valm invaded Regna Ferox," I sighed, deflating. "Not Ylisse."
"Exactly," Chrom nodded. "Just sending your troops to Port Ferox has the House of Commons in an uproar, despite our military treaty with Regna Ferox, and the House of Lords is adamant we not go to war again. Unless Valm invades Ylisse itself, my hands are tied."
"You can't honestly expect to wait until the Valmese army is knocking on Ylisstol's gates," I said darkly.
"It will not come to that," Chrom said. "As soon as I have just cause, I can declare a state of emergency. If I act too rashly, though… Ben, we could see a coup."
"I've seen the history of Ylisse," I said, waving the dire prediction away. "House Ylisse has ruled the nation so damn long they share the name. You really think that anyone would be stupid enough to try to oust you?"
"You didn't have a lot to do with politics in your homeland, did you?" Chrom snorted.
We both went silent for a moment, lost in our own thoughts. I ran a hand down my face, sighing loudly.
"Are you alright?" Chrom asked. "You look tired."
"That's the understatement of the century right there," I muttered, sitting up. "I'm fine. I can sleep when I'm dead. What do we need?"
"In what context?" Chrom asked.
"What do we need to go to war?" I asked. "Valm won't just stop at Port Ferox, and we don't have the naval power or the coastal fortifications to stop them if they come at us directly. What do we need to do to prove that a pre-emptive strike is our only option?"
"We need a majority vote in the House of Lords," Chrom said. "But even holding a vote can be blocked by any of the other Lords. Failing that, the House of Commons could come to a consensus, and force a vote in the House of Lords."
"Are you sure you can't just say 'war's on'?" I groaned.
"Ben," Chrom began slowly. "As much as I agree with you that Valm will not stop in Port Ferox, I… do not agree with striking so fast without provocation. Not without at least trying to come to terms with the Valmese."
I nodded, digesting this for a moment before looking up at him again.
"I have an entire city full of refugees," I told him quietly. "I have emptied my own coffers to fund the construction of housing, and the expansion of Baham, because I have a city full of people that say Walhart is bent on conquest. There will be no agreement on peace, Chrom. Not unless you bend the knee to him. And even then, it's very likely he will break the military just to prove a point."
"I have to try," Chrom said, shaking his head.
I nodded again, sitting upright.
"Then, milord, I have a proposal," I said. "We have to go to them. We land on Valm, diplomatically, and call Walhart out. If he will not meet, then our diplomacy turns into invasion."
"We cannot simply jump to war," Chrom sighed exasperatedly. "The other nobles-"
"To hell with the other nobles!" I thundered, jumping to my feet. "I did not spend the last three years fighting and training to stand aside and let Walhart march right on into Ylisse! If we do not act, we will be caught flat-footed, and what could be accomplished in months will turn into years of attrition! Your people will be put through a meat-grinder of a war that they will never recover from!"
"Are you done?" Chrom deadpanned.
I fell back into my chair, closing my eyes and massaging my temples.
"I know, I know, I'm yelling at the wrong person," I sighed.
"Things have gone well for you these last few years," Chrom said, lifting his hand to silence me as I opened my mouth to object. "Objectively well, anyway, despite your own wishes. You have prospered, and so has your territory. Many other parts of Ylisse are still reeling from the war with Plegia. Bandits still roam many territories, and there are still food shortages in some of the frontier territories. Themis has only just entered the last stages of rebuilding. It has not been a year of unilateral growth."
"Why am I only hearing about this now?" I asked dejectedly.
"Because Baham is experiencing none of those problems," Chrom said.
"Dammit, Chrom," I sighed. "I could have helped. I actually had the resources."
"You just admitted your coffers are empty," he pointed out.
"Don't you usually dole out tax money soon, anyway?" I shot back. "They're all long-term investments."
"I know, and I'm not faulting you for making them," Chrom soothed. "But the fact remains, you were not in any position to assist with these matters."
"That's the second time I've heard that today," I muttered.
"But we are getting off-topic," Chrom said.
"Chrom, I don't want war," I told him. "I never wanted any of this. But now that we're here, we can't just stop half-way."
"Is there truly no other way?" Chrom asked softly after a moment.
"Was… was that rhetorical? Or do you actually want an answer?" I asked. "No, I don't think there is any other option. Walhart is known as 'The Conqueror'. He won't stop with Valentia. Valm, Rosanne, Chon'sin, it's not enough for him. He'll come for Regna Ferox. He'll come for Ylisse, and all of Archanea. The whole world is his goal, Chrom, and we need to stop him."
Chrom went silent, studying his desk. I let the moment linger, and he eventually looked back up with a firm set to his features.
"Then we need to get the House of Commons on our side," he said. "But first, we need to confirm at least some support in the House of Lords, or we'll be laughed out of parliament. And we need to do it quietly. I will speak to Duke Midland. You speak to Duke Themis. Between us four, we should have the clout necessary to force the discussion, if nothing else."
"I knew I could count on you," I sighed, grinning.
"I will only fight to protect Ylisse," Chrom cautioned. "But I will never bend my knee to a tyrant."
"I'd say installing a stable government in Valm would be a good place to start," I said. "We can't just kill Walhart and leave the power-vacuum."
"We will cross that bridge when the time comes," the Exalt sighed. "For now, I should ask Sumia to contact her father."
"I should… uh… is Duke Egred still in Ylisstol?" I asked. "Please tell me I don't actually have to go to Themis."
"No, he's still here," Chrom laughed. "I'll even tell you where his manor is."
"He has a manor?" I asked, frowning. "Why don't I have a manor? I'm a duke, too, and I live in a shitty barracks!"
"So buy a manor?" Chrom said, blinking.
"… I can do that?" I asked.
"Maybe not now that you're broke," Chrom chuckled.
"Hey, I'm not broke, Baham is," I huffed. "I still have my own money that I get paid from the army."
"So buy a manor!" Chrom laughed.
"I don't want a manor!" I declared. "Why would I want a manor!?"
"Then why did you… you…" Chrom started, before breaking down into hysterical laughter.
I rolled my eyes as Chrom doubled over his desk, pounding it with his fist a few times as he continued to laugh. After what felt like an eternity, he finally shut up, wiping a tear from his eye as he chuckled a last couple of times.
"Oh, Naga above, I needed that," he said breathlessly.
"So glad to be of service, milord," I deadpanned. "Now. You were about to tell me where to find Duke Egred's manor house?"
"Hold on, I'll write it down," Chrom sniggered.
I scoffed, shaking my head.
"With Helman, I guess we'll be summoning the entire Ylissean DILF squad, huh?" I muttered to myself.
"What is a 'dilf'?" Chrom asked, quill pen in hand. "Do I want to know? I don't think I want to know."
"No, you really don't," I laughed.
An hour later, I stood on the doorstep of a fairly nice-looking manor not far from the Palace grounds, in a part of Ylisstol I honestly hadn't known existed. Many of the houses had fairly large, carefully cultivated lawns that were hidden away behind tall wrought-iron fences or plain old brick walls, and I had felt oddly exposed walking across this particular garden to the doorstep.
The entire street was fairly silent, the usual foot-traffic I'd come to associate with Ylisstol conspicuously absent from the neatly cobbled street.
This was Draug Avenue, named for one of the Altean Knights of King Marth's court.
It was also, allegedly, the ritziest place to live in Ylisstol, outside of the Palace. Like one big, fancy gated community.
I had become painfully aware of the fact that my shirt was creased and rumpled, and I hadn't let Elle clean my jacket since I'd gotten back to Ylisstol…
Still, though, I was a Duke, and I would do my best to play the part.
I'd strode up the laneway, after carefully checking Chrom's directions to make sure I'd gotten the right house, with my back straight and head held high. Internally, I was dying for another cup of Noire's terrible coffee, and my eyes burned with the effort it took to keep them open. I honestly doubted how tactful I'd be able to be, given my current tenuous state of coherence.
I also wondered if I was supposed to have sent one of 'my people' ahead of me to announce my immanent arrival, but Elle was busy with baby-Noire, and Su'ko was… well… Su'ko.
I used the brass knocker, cracking out three loud knocks, instead of just hammering on the door with my fist like I usually would have.
I was supposed to be a gentleman, after all.
It occurred to me, then, that it might still be fairly early… Chrom and I tended to meet super-early so we didn't get in the way of each-others' duties, so-
My self-destructive thoughts were cut off when the door was opened by a wizened, patrician man in a black butler's suit finer than all the clothing I owned put together. He was tall and rail-thin, with carefully parted silver hair, glaring down his nose at me from behind crystal spectacles.
"Can I help you, sir?" he asked slowly.
"Good morning," I said, using my best formal tones. "I'm sorry to come unannounced, but I was hoping to catch Duke Egred before he returned to Themis."
"And who, may I ask, is calling?" the butler asked.
The old man's tone gave me no illusions that he wasn't just humoring me, and was no doubt mentally preparing to call whatever guards that Egred and Maribelle employed.
I smiled as I held up the hand with Chrom's signet on it.
"I am Duke Ben of Baham," I told him evenly. "Retainer to the Exalt."
I just barely managed to hide my grin as the butler went pale. His eyes darted up and down my form again, clearly reappraising me, before he stepped back and bowed low.
"Please, Your Grace, come in," he said quickly. "You must forgive me, this is… most unusual."
"These are, unfortunately, unusual times we live in," I intoned sagely, stepping inside.
I was momentarily taken aback at being called 'Your Grace', but rather than look like an uneducated jackass, filed that fact away to ask someone about later. Preferably, someone that wouldn't laugh at me.
The receiving hall wasn't anything particularly amazing, when compared to the Palace's entry or the big-ass party hall in Baham, just a large, circular foyer with a wide staircase that followed the curve of the wall. Everything was white plaster and marble, and it was almost brighter inside than outside. I winced as I stepped onto a plush rug in the center of the room, hoping my boots were clean, as the butler pulled a red velvet rope towards the back of the room.
"I've notified the staff of your arrival, Your Grace," he said. "Please, follow me to the parlor, if you will, and I shall notify Duke Egred of your arrival."
I nodded, following the thin old man past the stairs and into a glorified sitting room. Still, the borderline tasteless ostentatiousness and opulence overflowed from every surface; from the sparkling clean fireplace, which a parlor maid was quickly stoking a flame to life in as we entered, to the silver-encrusted couches and chairs that I wasn't even sure if I would be able to sit on without ruining. Portraits and busts lined every wall, as well as vases with fresh flowers.
It was, in a word, eyewatering.
"Forgive me, milord!" the maid said as she spotted me, standing up and dropping a quick curtsey. "We didn't know you were coming!"
"It was a spur of the moment visit, please, I do not need you to roll out the red carpet or anything," I said.
The maid froze, exchanging a panicked look with the butler.
"I… I am sorry, we didn't know you wanted a red carpet!" the maid all but wailed.
"Forgive me, milord!" the butler added, bowing low. "I should not have assumed… please, if you will follow me, the Duke's drawing room has a lovely claret-shade of carpet that-"
"Stop! Stop!" I sighed, massaging my eyes. "It's a common phrase in my homeland that I'm only now realizing isn't one here. It just means 'you don't need to stand on ceremony'. Please, this will be fine."
I could almost feel their relief when they realized that they hadn't offended me, and the maid wasn't able to hide the small sigh of relief she gave.
"Of course, milord, forgive us," the butler said, bowing again. "Please, make yourself comfortable. I will see to informing the Duke of your arrival."
"Thank you," I said, watching the man leave.
I turned to the maid, quirking a brow.
"Now, how the hell do I sit in these things?" I asked, jerking a thumb in the direction of the closest chair.
The maid's jaw dropped, and I worried for a moment that I'd overplayed the 'genial lord' card, but she snorted and burst into giggles, trying to hide them behind her hand.
"I'm not really sure myself, milord," she admitted. "I don't really think they were designed with use in mind."
"Think the butler would have a stroke if he came back and I was sitting on the floor?" I asked with a lopsided grin.
"The couches are what the Lord usually uses to entertain guests," she laughed. "Why don't you have a seat, and I'll bring you some tea?"
"That's a couch?" I muttered, following her indicating hand with my gaze.
This prompted further giggles, and I relaxed a little as I crossed to the furniture that probably cost more than the entire apartment complex I'd been living in before Ylisse. The maid was gone by the time I gingerly parked my arse on the very edge of the seat, shifting uncomfortably, unwilling to put all my weight on it and praying it wouldn't take Egred too long to come see me.
I was saved from having to hover as Maribelle came bustling into the room, carrying a tray with all the paraphernalia that I assumed was necessary for nobles to have tea.
"Good morning, Maribelle," I said, standing and smiling. "Boy, am I glad to see you. Sorry I'm here so…"
I trailed off as the woman set down her tray and giggled, smiling brightly at me as I realized that it wasn't, in fact, Maribelle, but rather someone with a striking resemblance to her. Far too young to be her mother, but I sighed and ran a hand down my face nonetheless.
"Sorry, that was rude of me," I said. "I'm not wearing my glasses. I was unaware Maribelle had a sister, I didn't mean to confuse you."
"Oh, it is no bother," she tittered, snapping out a folding fan in a very similar maneuver. "We do look very alike, after all. My name is Margaritte, and it is a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Duke Ben."
As she spoke, she held up her hand, grinning behind her fan. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, instead taking the hand and bowing, placing a quick kiss on the back of it.
"Please don't tell her about this," I added as I rose. "I'd never hear the end of it."
"Of course not, Duke Ben," she said, fanning herself a little. "Please, have a seat. I'll serve you some tea."
I nodded, not exactly looking forward to hovering again, but deciding that-
"Ben! What is the meaning of-" Maribelle half-shouted as she stormed into the room, just as I was about to sit again.
Her sister was already perched on the chair next to the couch, pouring tea, and as Maribelle entered, she looked up with a Cheshire grin.
"Sorry, dear, but I didn't bring enough cups," she cooed.
"What are you doing, mother?" Maribelle asked flatly.
I groaned and face-palmed, earning another round of tittering laughter.
"Does no one in this country ever age!?" I practically sobbed.
"Apparently not," Maribelle's mother, Margaritte, beamed, before turning back to her daughter. "Apparently, I can still pass as your sister."
"I hate this," I moaned. "I hate everything about this. I am oh-for-three at this point. I swear, only the men in this country ever age…"
"With my mother!?" Maribelle hissed.
"It was an honest mistake!" I pleaded.
"Here you are," Margaritte said, placing a saucer and cup in my hands.
"She is married!" Maribelle went on.
"Oh, Emma dear, please bring out some more cups?" Margaritte called daintily to the maid.
"She looks just like you!" I shot back.
"Now, now," Margaritte said, snapping her fan out again. "Calm down, I was only having a little fun. There is no need to get so defensive, dear."
"Naga, I know you're there, please strike me down this instant…" I muttered into my teacup.
"Huh," Maribelle said, beginning to smirk. "I do not believe I have ever seen you blush like this, Duke Ben."
"I hate you," I growled.
Of course, I growled this as I was drinking, and got hot tea down the wrong pipe.
Margaritte reached over to pat my back as I descended into a coughing fit, a snickering Maribelle disappearing to do something else dastardly, no doubt like kicking puppies or something, the bitch.
I was still choking when Maribelle reentered, carrying an extra cup and a plate of familiar-looking biscuits.
"I am actually here for business, not pleasure," I rasped, still trying to clear scalding tea from my sinuses.
"I should hope so, given what I know of your proclivities towards 'pleasure' are," Maribelle deadpanned.
She plonked the biscuits right down in front of me on a delicate-looking table so hard that I actually winced, Maribelle giving a much put-upon huff as she sank into the chair across from me.
"I'm not that bad, and you know it," I shot back.
Fortunately, I was saved from any further embarrassment as Duke Egred made his grand entrance. The older man came into the room, still mopping the sweat from his brow with a small towel as the butler tottered after him. He was wearing simple leggings and a deep V-necked linen shirt, with a duelist's belt around his waist holding his cavalry saber. He grinned when he spotted me, tossing the towel back to the butler without a glance.
"Duke Ben!" he greeted me heartily, arms wide. "Forgive me, I was just running some drills. Blowing the dust off the old skills, you know."
"Of course," I nodded, rising to clasp his hand. "I'm sorry I interrupted, but I wasn't sure when you were heading back to Themis."
"Soon, I assure you," he laughed, sinking onto the couch next to his wife. "We need to prepare for the worst, should the Feroxi not stop this Valmese nuisance. Sit, sit! Please, don't stand on formality. By the Dragon, lad, but you look dreadful!"
"Yeah, we've been… busy," I lied. "Lots to do and… all that."
"Of course, of course!" Egred nodded. "I have no doubt you would be looking to Baham's own borders, given how close you are to Regna Ferox."
"That's actually what I've come to talk to you about," I said, resuming my own seat, somewhat more hesitantly than he had.
"Oh?" Egred prompted.
"I don't believe they will stop in Regna Ferox," I told him seriously. "This is just the precursor to something far, far worse."
"I see," Egred nodded slowly. "And what do you base this theory on?"
"Apart from all the refugees I'm housing in Baham?" I asked, before sighing. "My gut. He's coming, and we're nowhere near ready for him."
"Are you sure you aren't overestimating this Conqueror?" Margaritte asked.
"Every refugee that comes to Baham from Chon'sin or Valm says the same thing," I said, looking down. "That Walhart is bent on nothing short of total world conquest. From what I've learned from my own fact-finding, he isn't even governing the areas he conquers; he leaves them almost totally under martial law, letting random soldiers and officers run whatever areas they can keep hold of."
"How have you learned all this?" Maribelle asked.
"Surely not only from some traumatized refugees?" Margaritte asked.
Egred remained silent during this exchange, looking thoughtfully into the fireplace, and I continued.
"I have… agents, an intelligence network, that have been gathering information on the matter for me," I said. "I've been monitoring the situation for years, and it's only just continued to deteriorate."
I was leery about mentioning the fact that said agents were Chon'sinian refugees themselves, so I kept that part to myself.
"Ooh, 'agents', how exciting, dear!" Margaritte said, patting Egred on the arm.
I couldn't tell if she was being sincere or taking the piss, so I just grinned a little and moved on.
"I have been speaking with other parties in the House of Lords, and we feel that war is regrettably inevitable at this point," I went on.
"I see," Egred said, not looking back from the fireplace.
An awkward pause settled in, and I fidgeted a little to keep myself awake. Eventually, Egred looked up and patted Margaritte on the hand.
"Ladies, could you please excuse us?" he asked. "I'd like to speak to the young Duke, man to man."
Mother and daughter exchanged a glance, and it looked like Maribelle would protest for a moment before Margaritte spoke up.
"Of course, dear," she said, rising smoothly to her feet. "I have no doubt you'll tell me all about it later, anyway. Come, Maribelle. Why don't you show me that poem you were working on-"
"Mother!" Maribelle shrieked, aghast.
"Oh, don't be so embarrassed!" Margaritte chuckled behind her fan, before winking at me. "Ever since she started reading your serial, you know, she's been quite taken with-"
"That is just about enough out of you!" Maribelle wailed.
The young noblewoman cast me one last warning glare before she huffed, dragging her laughing mother from the room. I sighed and shook my head as Egred chuckled a little.
"Ah, like mother, like daughter," he mused with a small smile. "Now you see why we only had one."
"I wasn't going to say anything," I smirked.
"Oh, come now, you know my daughter," Egred waved me off. "In fact, I have not mentioned it, but I am grateful for her little 'courtship' with you."
"Oh… uh…" I said, blindsided.
"Do not look so concerned!" Egred laughed. "I am glad you rejected her! She needed that dose of humility. It was good for her, and I am glad that the pair of you can still be friends. It lessens my worry for her future to know she will have friends in the House of Lords."
"So long as she doesn't smack me with that parasol again…" I muttered.
"But we are not here to talk about the future, are we?" Egred went on, his smile dimming.
"No, we aren't," I sighed. "I… I spoke to Chrom this morning. Duke Egred, I know you are still rebuilding in Themis. I wouldn't ask this of you if-"
"I agree with you, lad," he said, leaning back in his seat.
"- I didn't believe it was… wait, what?" I said, coming up short.
"I said, I agree with you," Egred chuckled, before growing serious again. "I know it may be hard to tell, just from looking at me and all this wealth on display, but I am a military man. I've led Themisian light cavalry units since before the Exalt could even walk, let alone carry his sword. I can see the signs, and I agree; war is coming again, whether we want it to or not."
"Oh, great, because I really need backing to-" I started.
Egred cut me off by lifting his hand, smiling sadly.
"But I cannot condone marching to another war," he finished.
"Oh," I said, deflating. "I… understand."
"As you said, Themis is still rebuilding," he explained. "Many of my people are homeless, and adrift. Their faith in my rule, and the rule of the Exalt, is shaken. And with good reason. Did you hear how Themis was sacked?"
"I… no, actually," I admitted. "All I know is that Plegian forces crossed the border before officially declaring war."
"I tried to lead the defense," he said, his eyes taking a far-away quality. "But… I am afraid I am not quite the general that you are, Duke Ben. I am a cavalry officer, used to fighting skirmishing battles atop my horse, with the wind in my hair. Defending a city was… outside of my expertise."
"I had no idea," I said slowly.
"And rightly so," Egred huffed. "I don't go around advertising my failure. But… there you have it. If I start pushing for war again so soon, my people will see it as little more than the warmongering of a tired old man well past his prime, just trying to recapture a small piece of the old glory days. They… will not stand for it."
He gave me a pointed look, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that he was actually talking about his own fears.
I sighed and nodded.
"I understand," I said. "Chrom and I will find a way to talk the Parliament around, regardless. There's too much at stake to do otherwise. But… Thank you for being upfront about it with me."
"Of course, lad," Egred smiled. "One soldier to another, as it were."
"Well, then," I nodded. "One soldier to another, I have a surplus of resources and men in Baham sitting around doing a lot of nothing. Perhaps I could send them south, help speed up the reconstruction of Themis."
"It wouldn't change my answer," he said, shaking his head.
"I'd be disappointed if it did," I grinned.
Egred barked out a laugh, slapping his thigh.
"It's almost a shame you did reject Maribelle," he said. "You would have made a damned fine Duke of Themis."
"Not likely," I scoffed. "I can't ride for bollocks."
This brought a much larger laugh from Egred, and he ended up rocking back and forth in his seat as he chuckled.
"Yes, Helman did say as much in one of his letters," Egred grinned, once he'd quieted.
"Ugh, he would," I groaned.
"You should know by now, all old people know each other," Egred chided.
"I'll keep that in mind," I said, rising slowly to my feet. "And I don't want to be rude, but I've taken up enough of your time, and I have a lot of work to do."
"I'll bet," Egred said, rising, too. "We should spar sometime, when you're free. It's good to learn from experience, after all."
"I'll have to take you up on that offer," I agreed. "If you can do up a list of things you need for the rebuilding efforts and have them brought to the barracks before you leave, I'll organize it as soon as I get back."
"You don't need to go through the effort, lad," Egred shook his head. "Just the offer is enough."
"Ylisse isn't my home, but damned if Chrom hasn't made it my problem," I scoffed. "All of it, not just Baham. I wouldn't be able to sleep if I didn't do what I could."
"You barely look like you're sleeping now," Egred pointed out.
"Fair," I shrugged. "But my offer stands. We have to lead by example. If the people see us being generous… well, it all rolls downhill, right?"
Egred nodded, making a thoughtful noise, before thrusting his hand out to me.
"I believe I underestimated you, Duke Ben," he said softly.
"Oh, no, I'm just too tired to bullshit right now," I grinned, shaking his hand.
He laughed again, shaking his head.
"You give yourself too little credit, my lad," he grinned. "But, you're right, and we do have work to do. I'll let Maribelle show you out."
"Huh?" I asked.
"Please," Egred laughed. "You really think I don't know my daughter well enough to not think she didn't eavesdrop on this entire conversation? You may as well come out, dear."
Maribelle stepped back into the room, her expression the very picture of innocence as she dropped a polite curtsey to her father.
"You called, father?" she asked sweetly.
"Would you be so kind as to show the Duke out?" Egred grinned.
"Of course, Father," she said.
Maribelle looked at me expectantly for a moment, and with a sigh I offered her my arm. She accepted with a beatific smile, and we left the parlor.
"Until next we meet, Duke Ben," Egred called after us.
I didn't get the chance to respond before Maribelle had whisked us out into the main hall, her expression instantly transforming into a frown.
"I swear, they are both intolerable," she hissed. "First mother with my… my… ugh, and then father… he led a sterling defense of the city, but the way he tells the story you would think he left the gates open himself."
"I'll… take your word for it," I said, wincing as she dug her nails into my arm.
"I will speak to him," Maribelle promised. "If you swear to forget anything my mother said, I will speak to my father, and try to convince him to support you. I will also spread knowledge of where the rebuilding support came from. If you forget about the poems."
"Oh, no, it's only fair, I absolutely need to read your poetry now-AGH!"
I trailed off into a yelp as Maribelle twisted my arm, giving me one hell of a Chinese wrist burn.
"Think carefully about your next words," a heavily blushing Maribelle warned through grit teeth.
"I would greatly appreciate any and all help and support you could give me please let my fucking arm go," I said quickly.
"Hm. A little more vulgar that I would have appreciated, but you pass," Maribelle nodded, releasing me. "Now, will I be speaking to my parents on your behalf?"
"Yes please," I sighed.
"Good boy," Maribelle smiled, reaching up and patting me on the cheek. "Now, be off. I'm sure you have a lot to do."
I nodded, stepping out onto her front porch and turning with a small grin.
"You know, I could just ask Lissa to show me your poems," I pointed out. "I'm sure she'd-"
I didn't manage to finish my sentence, laughing and retreating as parasols from the stand next to the door began flying at me.
I felt a little more hopeful about the whole situation as I returned to the barracks around lunch, trusting that Maribelle could be just as 'convincing' to her own parents as she was with everyone else.
When I walked, or rather, stumbled, into the common room, I was surprised to find it somewhat fuller than I was expecting, with the majority of the officers away on the road to Regna Ferox already.
Emm sat across from Lissa, of all people, the younger princess on the small couch next to Cherche, with Lucina sitting in my favorite chair next to them. Archer, the man-whore, was lounging spread across Lucina's feet, and she seemed to both enjoy and be confused by the old dog's affection. A spread of cold meats, cheeses and bread had been laid out on the coffee table in the center of the chairs, and the women were laughing at something Lissa said as I entered.
"I feel out of place," I commented.
"Please, Duke Ben, do not let us make you uncomfortable," Cherche said from behind a teacup. "This is your home, after all."
I blinked, a little surprised at her easy attitude in my presence. Maybe I'd just made a good impression yesterday? Or maybe she was just used to Virion's crap. Thoughts for later.
"Yeah, sorry, we just kinda let ourselves in," Lissa added.
"Marth and Emm live here, too, so I don't mind," I yawned. "Got enough food there for one more?"
"I will bring another plate," Elle said from behind me.
I yelped and jumped, prompting further giggles and Archer to glance up, his tail lazily starting to flop back and forth when he spotted me.
"Sorry, milord, I didn't mean to startle you," Elle chuckled.
"Wow, jumpy much?" Lissa grinned.
"I'm not jumpy, I'm tired," I grumbled.
I looked around at the few vacant chairs, settling on the most uncomfortable one I could. I dragged the plain wooden chair over from the corner and perched next to Lucina, poking Archer's butt a few times with the toe of my boot. The dog didn't hesitate, getting up, stretching, yawning, then flopping right back down on my feet barely a foot away from Lucina.
"Oh, thank Naga, my toes were starting to sweat," Lucina sighed.
"You could have just kicked him off you," I pointed out.
"I could never do something so cruel to Archer!" Lucina huffed.
"He is a very good boy," Emm agreed with a small chuckle.
"Even my Minervykins is taken with him, and she does take quite some time to warm up to other animals," Cherche added.
I glanced up at the newcomer to the group, sitting there in a borderline skin-tight backless mini-dress and thigh-high boots, her armor and headgear stashed away somewhere. Her hair was still held back with a hairband, though, and she smiled brightly.
"I should thank you for your offer of accommodation as well, Your Grace," Cherche added. "It is nice to have somewhere safe to rest after so long in the Valmese resistance."
"Okay, we'll come back to that," I said, running a hand down my face. "But that's the third time I've been called 'Your Grace' today. Did Chrom give me another promotion while I wasn't paying attention?"
"Oh Naga," Lucina groaned, face-palming.
Cherche blinked a few times as Lissa and Emm burst into giggles, and I looked around at the assembled faces as Elle returned with my plate.
"That is how you are supposed to address a Duke," Lucina deadpanned.
"But everyone just calls me 'milord'," I said, quirking my head a little. "My own damned maid, thank you, by the way, Elle, calls me 'milord'."
"Ah, well," Elle said, blushing a little. "You were not a Duke when I entered your service, and I was just so used to calling you 'milord'… I can start calling you 'Your Grace' if you prefer?"
"No, I don't care, I was just curious," I shrugged.
"You are a terrible nobleman," Lucina sighed.
"Guilty," I grinned, piling food onto the plate.
Elle reappeared at my side, holding a steaming mug of…
"Elle, is that coffee?" I asked.
"Miss Dusk said you might need some," the maid smiled.
"Can I knight her? Is that within my power? Because she deserves it," I said, looking between Emm and Lissa.
Elle blushed bright red and started incoherently spluttering as I accepted the coffee, taking a long, blissful sip as the women began to giggle again. I winced at the acrid flavor, but immediately felt some of my fatigue ebb.
"Have you been knighted yourself?" Emm asked, trying to hide her giggles behind the back of one hand.
"I… don't know," I said, brow furrowing as I turned to Lissa. "Did Chrom knight me?"
"You are such a terrible nobleman!" Lucina exclaimed.
We all laughed at this, and I felt myself finally begin to relax a little.
"So, what are you doing here?" I asked Lissa, nodding to the other three. "They all apparently live here."
"I came to visit?" Lissa said, minutely indicating towards Emm with a nod of her head. "Besides, Frederick wanted to come and borrow the printing presses you bought with my brother's money."
"As long as he doesn't interrupt the printing of the officer's manuals, fine," I huffed. "I need to get at least another hundred of the damned things done up and out to the higher-ranking field officers before we mobilize."
"What are they even for?" Lissa asked.
"They are manuals on conduct and basic tactics, as well as standing orders should a squad or platoon become separated from the rest of the army," Lucina supplied, seeing I was nose-deep in my coffee. "I was actually impressed by Ben's idea to utilize such technology. Even if we did have to teach more than a few of the soldiers to read and write."
"Isn't that dangerous?" Cherche asked. "What if they fall into enemy hands?"
"Eh, there's nothing that important in them," I waved her off. "It's all pretty basic stuff. No looting, pillaging, raping. No executing prisoners. If separated, make life as hard as possible for the local Valmese army forces. That kind of thing. Any signals or plans or anything like that are passed on strictly orally, and if anyone writes them down, they get punished."
"It is just another part of the basic kit," Lucina assured the older woman.
"I'm more curious about what Fredward is doing," I frowned.
"He said something about making posters," Lissa said.
"Huh, neat," I shrugged.
I stuffed half a breadroll in my mouth, and was just starting to swallow when my tired brain finally caught up with what Lissa had just said. As the light bulb flickered on, I froze, looking up again as Frederick made a perfectly timed entrance with a bundle of papers under his arm.
"Ladies, I… Lord Ben, good day," Frederick said, pausing when he spotted me.
"Frederick," I nodded.
"How did you go, Sir Frederick?" Emm asked.
"Ah! Yes, I believe they turned out quite well," he said proudly.
"So does that mean we can see them now?" Lissa asked, sitting forward in her seat excitedly.
"Oh, yes please," I grinned.
"Very well," Frederick said, puffing himself up.
He set down the stack on one of the sideboards, and Elle sidled curiously up to my side, too. Then, with a flourish, Frederick unveiled his creation.
"I took the liberty of designing some posters to hopefully incite volunteers to the militia forces we will need to bring to Valm with us," he explained. "I think that showing Exalt Chrom's glory is the perfect way to motivate the citizenry."
Lissa snorted and desperately clamped her hands over her mouth. Emmeryn gasped, blinking a few times. Elle choked back a laugh, hurriedly making an exit down the hallway towards the bedrooms. I could almost swear I heard the moment that she lost it. Lucina and Cherche exchanged surprised glances, and I just grinned.
There, under the big letters "VOLUNTEER FOR ACTIVE SERVICE IN THE YLISSEAN ARMED FORCES! JOIN THE EXALT IN PROTECTING OUR HOME!" was a startlingly lifelike drawing of Chrom, naked and holding Falchion aloft in one hand, the other holding Ylisse's flag which was artfully flapping to hide his genitals and absolutely nothing else.
"I see you are… quite the artist," Cherche said diplomatically.
"Oh dear sweet Naga," Lissa whispered, vibrating with the effort of holding back her laughter.
"I think it is a fantastic idea," Lucina said obliviously.
"You would, Ophelia," I scoffed.
"I do not understand that reference, but I am insulted nonetheless," Lucina growled.
"Frederick, I do not… think that would be a good idea," Emm said gently.
"Oh," Frederick said, deflating a little.
"She's absolutely right, big guy," I sighed. "You're forgetting a very important fact."
"And what would that be?" he asked warningly.
"The people of this country love their Queen just as much as their Exalt," I said with a grin.
"Ben, no!" Emm gasped.
"Ben, yes!" Lissa cheered.
Frederick actually slapped his palm to his forehead, and I could practically see the lightbulb going on above it.
"I will return to print more tomorrow!" he said quickly, gathering up the posters. "I cannot believe I was so blind! Thank you, Ben!"
We both stopped, our brows simultaneously furrowing in confusion as we exchanged a glance. Then, wordlessly, we agreed never to speak of this moment again.
With that, he was gone. Before anyone else could get a word in. I just settled in my chair, grinning like the cat that got the canary as Lissa burst into hysterical laughter. Emm slowly turned to glare at me.
"What did you just do?" she asked, her voice low and dangerous.
"Me? I've done nothing, my dear," I said, sipping from my coffee again.
"You are a terrible influence," she hissed.
"Why?" Lucina asked, looking between us. "I think it is a good idea, actually. I… do not see the problem."
This just prompted further laughter from Lissa, who was almost falling off her chair now. From the direction of the bedrooms, I could swear I heard Elle snort a few chuckles herself, too.
Too bad Su'ko hadn't seen it… Maybe it might have actually gotten a reaction out of the taciturn ninja girl.
Cherche sighed, and reached across me to pat Lucina on the hand.
"I will explain later, dear," Cherche promised.
"Very well," Lucina said, confusion evident.
As she leaned, I was treated to a very close view of the porcelain-like expanse of Cherche's back, and to distract myself from impure thoughts in a room full of estrogen I settled for voicing the first question that popped into my head.
"Cherche, why doesn't your armor have a backplate?" I blurted out.
She blinked as she leaned back, before smiling a little indulgent half-smile.
"It is my old jousting armor," she explained. "Before Valm invaded, horse and wyvern jousting were both very popular in Rosanne. I was quite skilled at it."
"Okay, but it's not very practical," I pointed out.
"Perhaps not, but it is a tie to my homeland," she said. "I would be loathe to part with it."
"Fair enough," I shrugged. "What about a helmet?"
"Ah, yes," she sighed sadly. "That much, I did have to leave behind. I did fashion my head-dress with similar decorations to those that were on my helmet, though."
"I can only imagine what you must be going through," Emm sighed. "To lose your homeland, your entire way of life…"
"Some people might have a better idea what that feels like than most," I commented pointedly.
"It is not lost, merely stolen," Cherche said. "And, Naga willing, soon we will take it back."
"Right on," I smiled. "There's a rallying cry, if ever I heard one."
"I wish it did not have to come to war," Emm said sadly.
"Chrom already laid down the law about that," I said airily. "He was very up-front about trying to open peace-talks at every opportunity. Not that Walhart will listen…"
"That is all we can hope for, I suppose," she said dejectedly.
We sat in silence for a moment, before Lucina spoke up.
"Ben?" she asked.
"Yes'm?" I responded.
"Lady Cherche's talk of her helmet brings a thought to mind," she said slowly.
"You want one, too?" I asked.
She shook her head.
"Why were the troops not equipped with helmets?" she asked.
I opened my mouth to respond, before going very, very still. Every eye in the room turned to look at me, and I felt the blood rush from my face. Even Archer glanced up at me curiously as I started to hyperventilate.
"Oh my fucking god we forgot the helmets," I said.
AN: I still giggle every time I read 'we forgot the helmets'. It's so dumb and so small, yet so vital. Yes, I did actually forget about the helmets totally. Go back and look through the other chapters. No mention of helmets lol. I am a dumbass, and I am giving MinuteRice just as much blame on that one.
I would also like to take this moment to officially welcome TheRealOG to the metallover crew! They're helping out with proofreading and historical consultation for stuff in the story, and believe you me, I've already seen a huge improvement in this and the next chapter. So, everyone say thanks to OG for their help! Yay!
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