When the Shepherds reached Nomos, the devastation wrought to the city halted them in their tracks. They'd seen the burnt settlements and charred forms that littered them, but they weren't prepared for the shattered buildings or numerous craters decorating the once beautiful capital of the Themis Duchy—even less for the hollow shell that once had been the city's center. The smell of smoke, ash and death filled the air as few buildings and structures remained remotely intact among the ruins and ash. The ash that spanned as far as the eye could see.
"Chrom, do you think..." Lissa began, but the prince stopped her with a gesture.
"They're alive, Lissa, Frederick confirmed that shortly before we arrived," the prince struggled to say, his tongue like lead in his mouth as he looked over the ruined city a second time. There was no way that the duchy would recover without a great deal of assistance from Ylisstol's coffers and even then it would be crippled for years at least. Those damned Plegians would pay for this if they were responsible, he'd make sure of that.
"Chrom... calm yourself," rasped a very injured Robin, who should have been resting in cart that followed behind the group. The prince rounded on her, his normally warm eyes severe.
"Robin! You shouldn't be up and about you fool," Lissa frowned.
"Robin, return to the cart and rest. Your concern is appreciated, but–"
"You're working yourself..." The tactician paused to hack into her coat's sleeve. She wasn't coughing up blood, but she'd been in a rather bad spot after miraculously living through what should have been a fatal injury. "Into a frenzy. Breathe, your anger is clouding your judgment."
She was right, but she had no place to tell him what to do when she was ignoring the instruction of several healers, his sister included. The fact that she could stand was nothing short of miraculous, even more than the fact that she was still among the living. She'd been run through hours prior by the person that called himself Marduk after Chrom had failed to deflect a strike from the man, taking what should have been a fatal blow in his place. He was both thankful to her and couldn't forgive her for that.
"Milord, she is correct, you are growing more irate with your surroundings as we speak," Frederick joined in, stooping to loop Robin's arm over his shoulder and keep her steady. Had it been a few weeks prior Chrom doubted the knight would have offered the assistance, but the tactician had a way with people when she wasn't keeping to herself. "We need to rendezvous with Lady Maribelle and Nicola and hear what they have to say in regard to the ruin here."
Frederick was also correct, but that didn't change the fact that the prince was livid. So many lives snuffed out in a careless, childish manner, all while he and the Shepherds had been dealing with an attack from what had to be disguised Grimleal. If only that and the things that followed just after hadn't tied their hands.
Chrom barely had time to lower the Falchion after Marduk bade them farewell and vanished. The cloaked swordsman had been more than a match for Chrom, Lon'qu and frederick working in near tandem, easily batting the prince's allies away without so much as blinking. Then came the blow that would have likely killed him, an almost lazy looking thrust that pierced through Robin when she pushed him out of the way. Her near black blood had splashed across his face before the world turned red and he lashed out at the figure.
"Mother," Morgan shouted, rushing to Robin's side with Lissa in tow.
"Robin!" Chrom echoed. It was Lissa all over again, but there was no Nicola, no mage capable of casting a spell that could stave off death. And yet the cloaked swordsman blocked and deflected his every blow with schooled ease, like he could see the prince's actions well before they reached him. Then all at once the mysterious figure paused and commanded the few of his remaining subordinates to retreat.
"Our work here is done," the cloaked figure said rather plainly, catching the Falchion with an armored forearm before forcing the prince away with a blast of heat and pain. His stance didn't so much as buckle from the strength of the prince's assault, but neither did Chrom's. He'd managed to keep his footing and nearly sprung forward when a wall of pale white and violet flames cut a burning line across the landscape near the border.
"Get back here you coward," Chrom screamed, a step into rushing the wall of flames when an invisible gauntlet grabbed him by the cape and yanked him back. "Kellam, let me go!"
"I cannot and will not," the unseen knight replied as the prince struggled in his grasp.
"You've much to learn if you wish to face me, young prince," Marduk sighed, as if bored. "Hone your blade for the next time we meet."
And then the man was gone, him and the three of the dozen others that had come with him. A beat later the king of Plegia made his appearance.
Chrom bit back a snarl at the sight of the man. He had a darker complexion, with wild red hair and fiery red eyes belying cool intellect. He wore a regal red cape with a sand colored interior over a silken loose fitting tunic and baggy trousers. A gem studded with a dark gem hung from his neck while bangles of gold and pitted black iron adorned his wrists and ankles, resting over clawed silver gauntlets and armored calligae. A black iron crown sat crookedly on his head, held more in place by his hair than anything else, while a wicked blade shaped like a jagged lightning bolt hung behind his waist.
Of course Gangrel would appear now of all times, no doubt to taunt them or provoke them. He'd been looking for a war with Ylisse ever since his country had gotten back on its feet after the Crusades, eying the now peaceful nation with a bloodthirst that supposedly knew no bounds. He'd destroyed any peace agreements Emmeryn had sent his way and saw fit to allow his criminal to cross the border between the nations without a care.
"You Ylisseans really thought you could get away," the red haired king growled as the sky darkened in tandem with the beat of many wings. An ink colored pegasus touched down near the king, it's rider wearing a similarly dark garb and black cloak. Chrom didn't need to see the snow white hair or ruby red eyes to know it was the king's aide and infamous dark witch, Aversa. "Unfortunately you wer far too stupid and careless to get away without my noti–"
"What the hell are you on about, Gangrel," Chrom interrupted. "Ylisse has done nothing to your people in recent years!"
"Do you believe me to be a fool, boy," the king thundered. "The band of assassins you sent my way were sent scurrying back to their masters in the view of all of Plegia. Do you think you can hide that?"
"What assassins," Chrom returned, pulling himself from Kellam's grasp as he glared at Gangrel. "If anyone's sent anyone over the border with anything beyond a missive, it's been you and those bandits you've let roam free!"
"I've no recollection of doing such a thing," the king replied in a coy fashion. "Witch, do you recall me ordering or allowing such a thing?"
"I do not," Aversa stated with a shake of her head. "I believe you had the last group of bandits approaching our border flogged then executed in Dohleran's central plaza for attempting to incite the Ylisseans."
"Then why did your people cross our border and attack our allies," Chrom returned. "Or do you believe we chose to bloody ourselves and cut down our own men for sport?"
Gangrel began a retort, then paused and looked over the scenery before him. Injured pegasi and riders rested on the ground, tending to their wounds. A youth with a large hat and another wearing a pot for a helmet rested on the back of an uncovered cart, both covered in bandages. An armored rider rested bloodied in their saddle, one arm hanging limply at their side. Numerous other injuries could be seen across the rest of the Ylisseans and that was before the king saw the silver haired woman lying in a pool of dark blood.
"...Alright, what the hell happened to your lot prince," the Plegian King asked. He didn't have much faith in Ylisseans, they'd sooner smile as they slit your throat than tell anything resembling the truth, but they wouldn't do this level of harm to themselves for a ploy.
"We were attacked by your people, a group of thirteen cloaked figures with the insignia your Dark Mages wear that rushed past our border and slew everyone they came across," Chrom snarled.
"...You're telling the truth," Gangrel noted, the number of assailants he'd chased away matched the number the prince gave. The fire faded from his eyes for a fraction of a moment before returning far brighter than before as he gave a wild smile. "Then why shouldn't I clean the lot of you up now? It wouldn't make up for a fraction of the death your father brought to my home, boy."
"You're welcome to try, but I'll take your head if you so much as lay a finger on one of my–"
"Prince Chrom, that's enough," Phila snapped, eyes narrowing at the prince and king. "King Gangrel, should you or your men take a single step over the border you will be declaring war on Ylisse and her people. Do you believe that wise with only your Dark Witch and a contingent of Wyvern Riders in the area?"
The king grimaced, even as his wyvern riders circled overhead. He was ready for a war and he had four key figures he could slay to cripple the morale of the neighboring country, but he wasn't daft enough to believe the Whitewing of Ylisstol and the Argent Vanguard would go down without the full focus of all his available men, leaving him to deal with what remained of the princeling and his men and the pegasus knights accompanying them. Those were grim odds, even with the tools and tricks at his disposal. The witch would be necessary in their defeat, but she had been slow to act ever since she'd all but dropped her allegiance to the cult she followed.
"...If not for your reputation preceding you, Whitewing of Ylisstol, I'd carve that impudent tongue of yours from your face," Aversa remarked, though she wasn't looking at the Wing Commander. Her gaze was on the fallen silver haired woman. A look of grim familiarity crossed her features for a moment before she schooled it into a more familiar smirk. She knew something about them,but the king had hardly the time to ask when what should have been a corpse rose.
"Robin," Chrom began before his tactician screamed. It sounded like a death wail and roar of anger as her bright red eyes flared and she staggered to her feet. The mortal injury visible across her chest bubbled with black ichor and knit itself back together. She glared daggers at all in sight before her eyes lost their glow and whatever unnatural strength kept her standing faded, sending her sprawling to the ground.
"Ow..." the tactician groaned, cutting through the growing tension. All eyes were on her then, much to her delayed chagrin...
"I believe I may take your advice, Frederick, Robin," Chrom breathed, brushing the remained of the experience from his mind. He was in no mood to deal with the rantings and ravings of a warmonger itching to fight more than he was. "But, you must return to the cart, Robin. I've no idea what magic saved your life, but you look as pale as you did when we first met, more so in fact."
"I can agree to that."
"Nope," a rather annoyed voice interrupted. "Cart has to stay here unfortunately, same with any horses that can't fly."
A rather cross looking Anna joined the conversation, looking at Nomos as if it had personally wronged her.
"And why pray tell," Chrom asked, feeling his own irritation return.
"Looks like most paths into the city are far too damaged or otherwise uneven to traverse easily. While horses could be faster, we risk permanently injuring them with all of the ash and unseen debris in the area," she explained. "Similarly, the cart's liable to lose a wheel or worse, which won't do Donny or our stowaway friend much good."
The prince couldn't refute that. Laming any of the horses they had would make their trek back to Ylisstol all the more harrowing, especially when war loomed on the horizon. Having the cart break would have been just as bad, especially considering he'd paid the red haired merchant a sizable amount to have her ferry the injured. They were still working on what she should and shouldn't charge the Shepherds for and Chrom imagined he'd need to sit Anna down and lay out his ground rules in comparison to her own. That was for another time, however. There was a duke to visit—hopefully not a newly appointed duchess—and aid to give. And rest to be had, but that could wait until the Shepherds at least reached the duke's manse.
The Hierarch wasn't expecting to receive a message via a Familiar. He certainly wasn't expecting one from the Themis Duchy of all places, what with the numerous messengers and Familiars running to and fro from the Exalt's audience chamber. That had been a sobering moment, realizing that the supposed attack on the duchy had been a real event rather than some form of grand deception.
With that in mind, a Familiar from the ravaged land was a rather surprising and concerning event. He'd already mobilized some of his elite clerics to make their trek to the halidom's border adjacent territory, keeping the select few more suitable for combat rather than the healing arts within the capital. One never knew when a snake would attempt to infiltrate one's field after all.
"You may deliver your message," the older man spoke, words clipped and cool. Unlike his brother, the Pontiff, it was rather difficult to vex him beyond grave threats to the halidom—not that a large-scale attack on one of the halidom's territories wasn't a grave threat. It was, however, relatively far away compared to the ticking time bomb the Exalt allowed to roam her palace with near impunity.
The rust colored bird, held together haphazardly by magic, opened its beak soon after, a young woman's voice emerging from it.
"Lord Hierarch, the Fiend and Disgraced Scion have arrived in Nomos. The Fiend shows no signs of turning into the Fallen Star, instead they are helping retrieve and save trapped civilians with some assistance from the Scion."
The bird paused, snapped its beak shut only to open it once more and continue.
"Lord Hierarch, the Fiend has returned to the manse with the Scion in tow. From what I've been able to gather, four unnatural beings have laid siege to the city and still terrorize it. The Fiend has opted to have the Scion rest while he takes care of the danger.
..
Lord Hierarch the Fiend has returned and is still no closer to becoming the Fallen Star. The four unnatural presences have vanished, lending to the idea that he destroyed each of them. Further observation unavailable at this time, they are being cared for in a different wing of the manse.
...
Lord Hierarch, civilians are flocking around the Fiend and Scion, calling them heroes. The Fiend in particular is being called the Ashen Lance by civilians. I have managed to make contact with them and find no form of charm related magic on their person. Further observation to be given at a later time."
The bird continued, the voice coming from it utterly monotonous. He would have sighed as the reports droned on, but he had to remind himself that he requested these sorts of reports long ago, after he'd had his vision of the Fiend becoming an entity referred to as the Falling Star and destroying the halidom in a storm of ash and destruction.
Said vision was why he'd wanted the Fiend to leave the halidom, to avert disaster that was to come or to at least avert it long enough to find proper preventative measures. Those weren't quite forthcoming unfortunately and the Pontiff hadn't done him any favors when he ordered one of the church's warriors to strike at the Fiend.
That had been a particularly eventful morning, the Wing Commander all but kicking down his door and demanding he explain himself before the Exalt. He soon learned about the rumors being spread about the foreigner and put a stop to those after heavily chastising his brother for his impetuous actions. While he hadn't wanted to heal the Fiend once he recognized him, the Hierarch had simply commanded the church's agents to watch the youth and report any oddities to him. The Pontiff had stepped out of line there as well, which the Hierarch learned when the Grand Magus of Ylisse promptly teleported him into his office and asked why one of his students was being barred from buying essential goods. When he told his old friend that he knew of no such thing, he'd then been asked why the majority of his healing staff had been sent on leave. He was unaware of that as well and requested his brother be brought in to ask him about that.
When it turned out that the Pontiff knew as much about that matter as he did, things took a strange turn. When documents bearing his seal had been sent out without him approving them or even seeing them—let alone penning them, the handwriting was far too tidy and clean to be his or the Pontiff's—the three older men realized something was off. The Pontiff blamed the Fiend, believing that the youth was actively working against their goddess and her people, but the Grand Magus believed otherwise.
"While Mr. Apollonia may be a skilled trickster when it comes to magic, his ability to manipulate others is severely lacking," the mage had explained, citing the Fiend's eyes as a give away. "His emotions are quite visible in the colors of his eyes, even if his expression and tone may not match them. I do not believe his capacity for deception extends past schooling himself into a much more placid state. Regardless of said state, a simple look at his eyes would tell you how he felt at any given moment."
The three went back and forth for a rather long period of time before the Pontiff stormed off to speak with the Exalt in regard to her stance on the youth. He returned, thoroughly chastened and shaken, just before news of the attack on Themis reached them. The audience between the trio then ended as they moved to mobilize their people and assess the situation. That had been a day and a half ago.
Since then, the Pontiff had been, begrudgingly after his previous blunders, put in charge of defending the church while the Hierarch prepared for a potential attack on the Halidom. He still sent off a number of the church's finest to Themis, though not in time to link up properly with the Pegasus Knights or Prince Chrom's mercenary band. The remainder he deployed to different parts of Ylisstol to supplement the knights and guards while one remained at his side and another near the Exalt. Whatever differences in ideals they may have had in regard to the Fiend were tertiary when there were active threats to the halidom acting. The same could have been said for him and his brother: the Pontiff had always been one for proactive and swift action without necessarily paying the consequences any mind, while he was more willing to observe and monitor potential threats and gently nudge them away unless greater force was required.
Once things settled down, the Hierarch was going to seek an audience with the Exalt and warn her of someone using his seal without his permission and attempt to reestablish their old relationship. While Emmeryn was no longer the wayward girl filling a role too large for her to handle, she could still benefit from two perspectives to temper her decisions rather than one. Whitewing Phila may have been a great aid to the Exalt as a guard and caretaker, but she wasn't infallible. He wasn't either, but different insights and an additional perspective could prove useful in the coming days.
When Nicola awoke he found himself staring into Maribelle's wine colored eyes. Neither spoke audibly for several moments, instead communicating with accusatory glares, raised eyebrows, confused squints and rolled eyes before looking away from one another as they huffed in annoyance.
"And you're certain you are fine, oaf," Maribelle asked after a few moments. "You looked like a walking corpse when you arrived."
"I overexerted myself somewhat, but I'm mostly fine," the spearman lied. It was an easy one, one he'd practiced and honed over years of not wanting people to worry about him.
In truth, his entire body ached and creaked from the thought of moving and he would need far more rest than the small amount he'd gotten. Now that Apollyon had relinquished control back to him, his arms and torso were no longer grotesque and monstrous by his standards. Instead they were badly injured and, while functional, covered in bandages. Really his entire body was more or less bandaged and Maribelle looked hardly any better.
The noblewoman's hair had fallen out of its ringlet curls into loose curling locks and her normally peachy complexion was pale. She'd changed out of her ash stained attire into a looser fitting tunic and trousers that made the former summoner wonder if she was more of a tomboy than a prim and proper lady—he certainly couldn't imagine her in a dress with the way she fought and handled herself, but she held a regal bearing that Sully had chosen to forego in favor of a knight's honor. Her neck sported bandages that dipped beneath her collar line, but he quickly averted his gaze before he saw anything untoward. The most noticeable differences were the thin red line that started above the center of her left eyebrow and stopped just short of her chin and her now tri-colored eyes.
"Curious now are you," she asked, noting Nicola's doubletake. "I believe I explained it to you before, during our conversation just before you collapsed from exertion, but I'm willing to do so once more."
"How magnanimous of you," Nicola breathed. Maribelle's eyes only twinkled in response.
"Indeed I am, oaf," she nodded, offering a haughty smile that didn't quite last long enough for it to look natural. "As I said before, the current state of my eyes is a result of using a family heirloom and they should return to their ordinary appearance sooner rather than later. As for the mark along my brow, that's..." she paused. "It's a rather old one. A reminder of the one I loathe most in the world. Thankfully magic is rather good at removing more permanent effects and the original scar that was once there is gone, but sometimes my body forgets that and 'remembers' that it was once there like it does now."
"I see." That was more than what he'd expected. He'd been under the impression that the line was recent and caused by his inability to properly protect her. Even if that wasn't the case, he needed to train more and focus. Today had proved his weakness to him and he needed to get past it or he'd never kill– he tried to clear the name from his thoughts a moment too late. Hel. Nothing immediately happened, but he didn't want to imagine what would happen if he kept using the Goddess of Death's name. "I recall a Familiar appearing near me and leading it back here. Did it have anything important to say?"
"Beyond the Shepherds and Pegasus Knights imminent arrival? No." Maribelle looked away for a few moments then sagged."
"Are you," the spearman began, only for the noblewoman to shush him.
"I'll be fine, oaf," she sighed, straightening up. "It's just. I'm tired. Physically, emotionally, mentally. Still, I can hardly fathom how my people must feel, especially those who lost everything or everyone they cared about. My home and what remains of my family remain intact, but the same cannot be said for those who live within the confines of my family's duchy. It– I shouldn't be telling you this."
"It's fine, Maribelle," Nicola breathed, sitting up slowly. He winced as his back and shoulders protested, but was able to prop himself against a wall before the aching became unbearable. "If you need to get what's bothering you off your chest, I'm fine with listening. Letting stuff like this pile up, grow and fester is how you break under pressure."
Ironic coming from the person that wouldn't dare burden others with the things that bothered him, not without those issues affecting others or being forced into the open. Loki was one such issue and he was glad he made it abundantly clear she was a threat before the attack on Themis happened rather than keeping quiet about her. That would have reflected poorly on him.
"It's not a subject that concerns you," the noblewoman insisted. "Besides, I doubt you have the means and understanding to fund the reconstruction of a city from the ground up."
"That's a reasonable assertion." He wasn't sure how much coin he had in the Zenithian coin pouch, but it was reasonable to assume he didn't have a city's worth. Being fair, he hadn't actually tried fully emptying the pouch and he wouldn't without having a trustworthy Anna nearby. That was likely the Guardian or the smith, he didn't trust the merchant with the Shepherds as far as he could throw her and he was pretty sure he could throw her very very far. Putting that aside, his construction knowledge was limited to making odd devices out of materials that he was sure Ylisse didn't have and repairing knick knacks and tools he knew Ylisse didn't have. "Still, I'm always fine with listening if you have problems. We may not be friends, but I'm comfortable trusting you with my life. That has to mean something."
"I would consider us begrudging friends," Maribelle returned.
"It's not really worth being my friend, Maribelle. Knowing my track record, you'd probably get hurt or worse."
"If I get hurt I imagine it wouldn't be solely from association with you, Nicola. You may be rather unlucky, but you aren't the sole source of pain or suffering in this world."
"That's not what I meant."
"It's what it sounded like."
"Still, it's been a precedent. People I end up caring about always end up getting hurt or worse. Sometimes the threads to make that happen are long in motion before I appear, other times the world seems to weave them into a slow rolling catastrophe that gradually increases in scale. I can agree that what happened with Cordelia wasn't caused by me being around, it was some of her peers, but the pseudo-assassination attempt on the Exalt to strike at me directly and the attack on Themis by people that knew me by name? Saying that is unrelated to me being nearby would be untrue. Maybe if I hadn't arrived here of all places, you, your people and Ylisse as a whole would be in a better–"
A resounding smack rang as Nicola's head snapped to the side. Maribelle glared prismatic daggers at him as she cradled her hand for a moment. The moment was short as she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him from the wall to meet her face to face.
"Nicola, listen," she seethed. "I understand that you feel responsible for this disaster and perhaps, to a minor degree, you are. You, however, did not give the order to burn away my family's duchy and you certainly did not bring your homeland's grand villain with you when you arrived. Perhaps she would not have attacked Ylisse or Themis without you being here or perhaps she did so just to dig at you. I do not know nor do I care. What I care about is my home being attacked by people with no qualms in harming the innocent, with little to no regard for the lives of their allies and certainly none for their enemies.
"What I care about is my friend who refuses to open up to anyone for more than a moment and bullishly assigns blame to himself for things he could not have prevented, an idiot that pushes away those who would care about him if he would let them. Do you know how painful and irritating it is when people want to help you, but you keep them away when they can see that you're hurting? You clearly do not, else you would have at least spoken to Lissa about more than just stories and things bothering her as she helped and continues to help you through your aversion to affection. She cares for you deeply, Nicola, enough to defend you when you would come up in our conversations shortly after she returned. I hated you then and a small part of me hates you now, not because of anything you did in the past but for this wallowing you're doing. You aren't some mewling babe in need, you're the fool that stole my darling's heart and helped save numerous lives. It would be in your best interest to remember that before I'm forced to remind you of that."
With that, Maribelle shoved the former summoner away. She sighed, though it was more akin to a hiss as she balled her hands into fists. "Nicola, I owe you my life, as do many of the others here. Perhaps all of them do, we know not how long the manse's defenses would have lasted had the mages you told me about concentrated their efforts. That is no small thing. If you truly wish to take blame for this incident, to truly bear responsibility for all of it, look me in the eyes and tell me that you are responsible then do the same for each and every civilian, knight and mage the two of us saved or led back here today. Can you do that?"
She stared into Nicola's eyes levelly, no anger present as he considered what to say. It would be easy to look away and say he hadn't been responsible. It would have been the truth in most respects. But the Children of the Infernal Star had known him by name, he'd been conscious and heard everything they said to Apollyon–even the moment when the Storm Mage amongst the trio had called them Kiran. They knew him and they wanted him to prove himself, even as they looked down on him and his currently resting other. Apollyon would have berated him by now if he was awake, if the voice in his head was truly asleep and not in some other state of dormancy. He could easily imagine the voice telling him he wasn't at fault here, amongst a myriad of nitpicks and barbed words without a hint of sugar coating. That didn't mean he agreed there. If he was even remotely responsible, he needed to take the blame for it and rectify things.
As such he began to speak. "Mariblle, I take full–"
"Incorrect," the noblewoman huffed and looked away. "Would you like to try again?"
A mostly wine colored orb glanced his way.
"Yes. I'm–"
"Incorrect." The noblewoman looked away once more. "Would you like one more attempt, Nicola? I cannot allow an infinite number of attempts after all."
"You'll just look away again at the last moment, which is hardly sporting."
"I will do no such thing. I shall keep my eyes facing you the entire time you speak your false and erroneous statement." She turned to face him fully once more. "Better?"
"..." he didn't trust her one bit. "Fine. I am fully responsible for–"
"Incorrect," Maribelle intoned, bringing a hand over her eyes as she sighed. "Have you forgotten what I just told you, Nicola?"
"I did not."
"Then you are purposefully incorrect and need to hear my words once more: you are not the sole source of pain and suffering in this world. The ones responsible for this are the ones who set this attack in motion and, as far as I can tell, you did not. I will repeat this as many times as it takes to get it through your thick skull, Nicola. Pray that I do not have to repeat this often, lest I lose my temper with you."
The pointed glare she sent his way implied she'd likely do something unreasonable if she did.
"Fine," Nicola sighed. "I will acquiesce this time and drop the subject."
"Good, I would have hated to bring my parasol down on your head. I suspect then I'd have a broken parasol and you'd be no worse for wear."
"Ha ha," Nicola glared. Maribelle only smiled in turn.
"Now, are you feeling any better Nicola," she asked. "I wasn't exaggerating when I said you looked like a walking corpse when you returned. You look marginally better, but don't think I didn't notice your grimace when you moved before."
"I'm fine."
"Nicola."
"I am," he insisted. "My body hurts like I was thrashed about by a Manakete then tackled by another that tripped in the midst of trying to catch me, but other than that I'm fine."
"That was incredibly specific," the noblewoman noted.
"Yeah don't worry about it." One of the downsides to playing with childlike beings that could turn into dragons was that they tended to play rough in dragon form. That and occasionally lose themselves in their draconic instincts when overly excited. He could still hear the stream of apologies as he told the two Makakete in question that he was fine. He wouldn't have been if he had been trampled instead of tackled, but didn't tell them that.
"Nicola, anyone would worry about that if you told them not to. What exactly did you do before you came to Ylisse?"
"A bit of this and that," he replied, managing a wry smirk as Maribelle squinted at him.
"Fine, keep your secrets."
"I will, thank you."
"I hope you're aware that you're far more insufferable when you aren't moping and beating yourself up."
"I do my best."
"Clearly you don't, else I imagine you'd use the full extent of your rough wit to not get talked into circles by the Wing Commander and Exalt."
Nicola feigned indignation before breaking into hacking laughter. Maribelle joined him a moment later, her laughter lilting and bright.
A knock on the door broke the duo out of their brief Reverie.
"Lady Maribelle, you've a number of guests," a servant called from beyond the door.
"You may invite them in," the noblewoman replied.
"As you wish." The door opened and a golden blur darted into the room, bowling the sitting noblewoman over.
"Maribelle, you're alright," Lissa cried, wrapping the stunned noblewoman in a tight embrace. She gave her best friend a once over then amended her statement. "Er, mostly alright. Are you well? Do you need more healing? I heard you were caught by a powerful spell that went off in the middle of Nomos! You aren't in shock or anything are you? Wait, that would mean tackling you wouldn't have been the best idea then."
"Darling, I'm mostly fine," Maribelle answered, running a hand through Lissa's hair fondly. "Despite how I look, I got off rather lightly. Our friend was less lucky in that respect."
"Friend?" Lissa looked up to see Nicola. Her eyes grew brighter than they'd been a moment ago. "Oh, you two finally made up! That's great! Nicola are you alright?"
"I'm fine," the former summoner began, but stopped as Lissa zipped to his side.
"Not from what I can see," Lissa retorted, emerald orbs glowing faintly as she glanced over him. "That's a lot of fast healing bruising, but most of it's internal rather than external which is worse. Your muscles are in a pretty rough spot as well, most are torn or pretty badly worn, and that's before we get to the burns and other deep wounds across your body." She gave the resting spearman a stern look. "You got hurt pretty badly, then overexerted yourself then pushed yourself further still, didn't you?"
"...Guilty as charged," he sighed.
"You can't do that Nicola! That's how you cause long term harm to your body, even with how fast your body's patching itself up. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you ran headlong into danger without any consideration for your own health and wellbeing." The uncomfortably long pause that followed confirmed her fears. "Nicola! You can't just tell me to value my life and remember that I'm important then turn around and act like your own life has no meaning. What if you had died?"
Nicola had no immediate answer. Nothing he would have said would have allayed the princess' concerns. Instead he offered an apology.
"I'll do better in the future," he offered.
"You'll do more than better mister or so help me I'll... I'll!"
"You'll?"
"I'll make you my vassal and make that your first order!" It was the most imperious thing he'd heard the princess say by far, but it was hard to take her serious, given the faint chuckle from her friend.
"Darling, you cannot simply make a person into your vassal, even if it would be beneficial towards his overall wellbeing," Maribelle tutted. "It's a matter of decorum."
"Then I'll prank him until he stops being reckless," the princess offered instead.
"I don't believe that would work either, darling," Maribelle politely chided.
"No no, I think Lissa has a point," a soft voice interjected, words slow and purposeful as if they required great effort. "She has a way of pranking people in very... productive manners."
"Ah, Robin. I did not hear you enter," Maribelle waved before eyeing the tactician. She appeared to be far paler than usual, almost snow white in complexion save for a faint pink warmth around her cheeks, and mildly disheveled. The once white tunic dyed with dried blood was a clear give away that she wasn't exactly in the best shape. "Please tell me you aren't avoiding some form of rest."
"Not for very long, Lady Maribelle," Robin stated, returning the wave. "I've very little doubt that Morgan will find me before long and drag me off to rest. Or Chrom and Frederick will finish their audience with your father and call for me. Whichever happens first."
"Robin," Nicola nodded.
"Nicola," the tactician greeted. "I see you're bedridden once more."
"And I see you've decided that rust red is a good color, though perhaps not in the way you would have wanted."
"Indeed. I was informed that having a greatsword pierce one's torso tends to be fatal."
"I'd imagine as such. You do seem to be remarkably alive and well, which is pleasant to see."
"I got better," the silver haired woman replied cheekily before coughing a great deal. "Mostly. Being alive aside, I'm thankful my blood didn't ruin my coat. I'd hate to think how much money it would cost to get it cleaned otherwise."
"What was that about a greatsword, Robin," Maribelle blinked, her thoughts coming to a grinding halt.
"Some cloaked warrior tried impaling Chrom and I may or may not have pushed him out of the way," the silver haired woman said in a much more embarrassed manner. "Not to downplay the injury or anything similar, but I should very well be dead or at the very least immobile. I was cleanly run through by a blade near half as wide as my torso, but I recovered, rather unnaturally from what I heard."
"It sounded more like you were dying a dozen agonizing deaths as you rose from the ground," Lissa confirmed. "But you're in mostly good health compared to these two."
"Truly, the greatest of boons," Nicola nodded before looking back towards Lissa. "I should be fine after a night's rest."
"Considering I'm about to heal you and Maribelle, I'd I agree," Lissa nodded.
"Darling, that's unnecessary." "There's no real need."
"Two of my best friends ran off and got injured saving a number of people from the disaster outside and you expect me to sit around and do nothing for them? Perhaps if both of them were in near peak condition I would agree, but one of them has a penchant for understating their actual condition and ignoring their wounds if they aren't severe and the other has refused any healing beyond minor first aid or so I've been told."
The frigid look the princess gave the two of them paired with her odd words made Nicola think of Fjorm. The princess of Nifl had a no nonsense attitude when it came to making sure her allies were in one piece after skirmishes and even more so after hard fought battles. She had a way of making even the warmest expression look glacial if she was annoyed with someone and phrasing things in a way that told them she would not take no for an answer when it pertained to their wellbeing. He'd been on the receiving end of both many times in the two years they'd known one another, especially after Loki poisoned him.
The way Lissa spoke and looked at him and Maribelle were nearly identical to the ice princess' mannerisms. Her words in particular stood out to him: he hadn't played off any notable injuries beyond the ones he'd accrued today in the seven or so months he'd been in Ylisse. Not any that he could think of at least. Thus the princess' words made no sense in his regard. Then again, she'd also mentioned him being off in his own world once upon a time, shortly after they met. That had gotten his attention then because he hadn't really buried himself in his thoughts around her before that point. Yet she knew that was a habit of his. The only way she would have known that would have been from them fighting side by side on Zenith and that had never happened. He would have remembered her if they had, even faintly as he did Virion at the very least, but he had no recollection of ever fighting by her or her brother's side. No, something else was at play here and he wasn't sure what it was. He'd need to look into it more before acting on it, lest he make a mistake or misstep in haste.
For now he needed to rest and recover. Tomorrow he could work on helping around the ruined duchy once more and figure out exactly what Apollyon had told Maribelle. He wasn't exactly comfortable with the voice holding conversations while he was unconscious, but the voice itself was still unresponsive so he couldn't just ask it what was said.
A/N: Next chapter will end out the current arc. It may take longer than usual because, as much as I know what will happen through out, I need to make sure the perspectives I want to show are fully and properly set up before I begin. Unlike with the Shepherds and Loki, who are decently easy to write once I feel I've come to understand them to a decent extent, completely new perspectives that aren't short lived or glimpses at the other things going on in the world are rough. I'll be dealing with two such perspectives and more fleshed out perspective that's already shown up, but only in broad strokes.
Once the next chapter is finished, I'll be taking a short break of a few weeks to enjoy my birthday and reorganize my thoughts for the upcoming arc. That and get more work done one for some other projects I have up in the wings. I'll have a more definitive timeframe for said break by next chapter, which should be out by this time next week or by Tuesday of the week after at the very latest—bar extenuating circumstances.
With all that said, thank you for reading the story thus far and taking the time to review, follow and favorite it. I'm definitely not the best author here by miles and miles, but I feel much more confident about my writing now compared to when I first started this story. I can see a few things I definitely need to work on and I'll address them when I go through and start editing and updating chapters over time(Not the sort of thing I'd go into a hiatus over, just small memos here and there as I work through the chapters and fix minor and/or major things I want to rework and rewrite).
If you like this story and want to find more stories by other authors for Fire Emblem and other fandoms alike, please visit the Fanfiction Treehouse Discord Server (Code: 9XG3U7a). There are plenty of brilliant writers there, but you aren't obligated to write if you join—in fact hanging out is just fine—and the community is a nice combination of decently relaxed and full of chaotic energy on multiple levels. There's also a Podcast on Spotify called the Fanfiction Treehouse Podcast and a YouTube channel by the same name (Fanfiction Treehouse) if you fancy either. Regardless, stop by if you want to and I'll see you in the next chapter.