To most, it would have been an innocuous meeting in a patisserie. Two acquaintances, both well dressed, sat across from one another enjoying tea and a selection of delicate looking confections. It was a common sight, though the location was known more for catering to couples than it was for businessmen.
"It is good to see that you are in good health, Guire," the taller of the two men smiled between sips of tea. He wore a white suit with gold trim and a frilled blue tunic beneath. His shoulder length teal hair flowed freely, styled in an orderly fashion while gold rimmed spectacles adorned his face. To anyone in the area, he radiated an aura of calm nobility, even more so as she elegantly drank his tea. He personally wasn't a fan of many sweets, most were far too rich for him, but he had a fondness for tea cakes and there were plenty to be had. His aid would have scolded him for wasting money on such things, but she wasn't present and it was for a good cause. It was also the only location Gaius felt comfortable meeting at, beyond his voracious sweet tooth.
"Likewise, your lordship," the ginger man replied, nibbling away at a honeyed roll. Like the teal haired noble, he wore fancy attire, his own suit a smoky grey with a bright orange cravat and black gloves. The headband he would have worn was tucked away out of sight, allowing his orange hair to be pushed back save for a few unruly bangs that fell forward. He normally would have eaten it in a single bite, but he had to keep up appearances for the time being. You never knew when someone was watching your every move, especially since the ylissean criminal underbelly had been taken over. "Anything in particular you want to hear before I dive into the big stuff or should I get right to it?"
"I do have one question," the teal haired man replied. "Have you received any new correspondence from my home on my behalf?"
Ah. He wanted to check in on Roseanne then. Thankfully he had. A notice arrived a few days prior, written in a language only the noble could read and further coded in the event someone understood the native tongue of the small country. He passed the letter to the noble.
"I hope you did not incur any risk getting this," the noble frowned, examining the already broken seal.
"Someone reached the courier before I did so I had to sort things out a bit," the thief admitted. "Luckily he wasn't one of the new syndicate, else we'd have some issues."
For one, he'd be dead. The new group, the one that had swept through the underground and killed off or taken over the majority of gangs and crews in the halidom didn't mess around. They'd tried to recruit him shortly after they appeared, almost from thin air, but he declined and nearly found out the hard way that they didn't take no for an answer. He'd lost a set of aliases and needed to lay low for a few weeks while the hostile take over unfolded. That cost him more, so now he was a bit of an outlier, flying solo with the help of Virion's coin and a hideaway with his close mate and the group he was soon to marry into.
Gaius may not have trusted the majority of them further than he could throw them, not very far, but the Annas and their network was a godsend in the current situation. It helped that the Anna that stayed in town, not the one that watched the nation like a hawk from afar or any of her traveling merchant sisters, was an honest business woman. Mostly. She'd make you haggle down from a ridiculous price point if you wanted something specially made, but her works were masterworks despite her claiming to be subpar.
"I see. Do you have any information on that particular group," Virion asked, tucking the letter into a breast pocket. The contents were his alone to know and Gaius wasn't one to put his nose where it didn't belong if he wasn't being paid for it or if it didn't pertain to him. It was why he didn't ask why the scion of House Virion was in Ylisse in the first place or why he was looking into the ylissean underground at the moment.
"A bit, and it's pretty big," Gaius nodded, polishing off the honeyed roll. He wordlessly reached for another as the noble reached for a tea cake, their arms crossing for the briefest of moments before they grabbed their respective snacks. A subtle exchange, notes passed between sleeves with practiced perfection. "I'd watch your back, Ruffles, there are more than a few tails after you."
"Then I cannot take any detours to my next destination," the noble replied. Perhaps he didn't get the meaning... no, Ruffles was far too clever for that. Clever and confident, which fit the philandering mask he wore more often than not. "I'd request you accompany me, but that would paint a larger target on your back would it not?"
"It would, yeah." Gaius was under no illusion that he'd fully escape the attention of the new syndicate in town, especially with how often he spied on them or stole information from them. If not for the very scary and far more dangerous Anna occasionally bailing him out, he was certain he would be a dead man thrice over. He was skilled and good in a fight, but that didn't really matter when your enemy could have a few dozen assassins hone in on you the moment they noticed you. Speaking of... "You lordship.."
"I'm well aware of them, do not worry," the noble replied, taking a long sip of his tea. "Five or six?"
"Five."
"Then there are eight."
"Right." Apparently fielding assassins in broad daylight was allowed by this group. There were two among the servers, another one at the far side of the room and two more mingling among the crowd outside. The other three were in the back alleys and around the corner. Bold of them, but also brash. If they acted now they'd cause a panic and a panic was very bad for their line of work. The last panic resulted in the underground nearly collapsing when the 'Guardian' as she was called started smashing through dens and hideaways literally. The higher ups in the underground managed to escape her ire before the Wing Commander reined her in, but the underground nearly collapsed as a result and had been under intense scrutiny for a long while. "You good for a fight?"
"I'd prefer having my bow, but I'm defenseless by no means," Ruffles sighed. "And yourself?"
"Even in a monkey suit like this, I'm ready." You never conducted business without at least one weapon on your person, not as a spy, thief or urchin. It was preferable to not have to fight or bloody one's hands, especially against assassins or in public, but you'd be a fool to not be ready to throw down at a moment's notice. That was Gaius' opinion at least. He personally hated fighting, but he hadn't made a name for himself by avoiding every scrap and fight brought to him. He'd avoided most, fight too often and you'd be considered a mad dog and near no one would work with you, but he was rather familiar with defending himself.
"Then I believe we should finish our business here and greet our guests before they become a nuisance." A noble's way of saying it was time to get to work. A shame, he rarely got to play dress up and this suit was likely to be ruined in the next few minutes. Ruffles' as well, but the noble didn't seem to mind as he finished his tea. Ever the image of poise, but the thief hoped he wasn't bluffing when he said he could take care of himself. Dealing with a group of eight while protecting another person would be near impossible.
Emmeryn decided she didn't want to look at any more reports for the remainder of the day with a tired huff. Such reports were scarce when Nicola and Maribelle were apart and numerous when they were together and not under Phila's watchful eye, so it was always something to worry about when the two of them weren't involved. This time it had been Lord Virion and an unnamed associate of his who had disappeared shortly after the pegasus knights arrived. They'd been attacked by a group of eight assassins in broad daylight, then another four shortly thereafter.
Normally such a report would say that a noble had been slain or kidnapped for ransom, but it was the opposite like when Nicola and Maribelle were involved. Twelve men and women from a wide range of ages now rested in prison for disturbing the peace and conspiring to kill a foreign dignitary. Half had light lacerations across their arms and legs and a variety of bruises and welts across their bodies while the other half looked like they'd been caught in a blizzard and thrown around by strong winds. According to witness accounts and a report on the scene of the incident, they very much had been. Thankfully, property damage was minimal this time, the only things broken were a few chairs and a single table that Virion provided payment and compensation for before requesting an urgent audience with her. That was to begin soon so she needed to look her best and not fall over from exhaustion. Apollyon wouldn't allow her to forget the moment and Phila would give her that look that made her wither from having disappointed her second mother.
"Lord Virion is entering, milady," a messenger reported, getting her attention as she stifled a yawn. Soon after the teal haired nobleman entered the room, his white and gold suit hardly dirtied from the fight less than an hour ago.
"Lady Exalt," he said, kneeling. She chose to ignore the snow caking his boots. "I apologize for the commotion I caused, but I've been given rather grave news."
"Speak," Emmeryn breathed, trying to not make the words sound like a sigh or yawn. She was interested, she just hadn't quite rested since her conversation with Nicola's other half. She would, she just needed to finish the audience and look into two more things before she did.
"I'll be quite plain, if you'll allow it," Virion replied. When she nodded he continued. "There appears to be a plot to assassinate you underway."
Oh. Oh dear, she was long overdue for one of those wasn't she?
"A grave matter indeed," she responded, fully awake. If another group truly sought her life, let them come. She would dest- stop them in their tracks to the best of her ability, especially if they were also going to attempt to lay a finger on Lissa or Chrom. She was a pacifist, she detested fighting and violence with all her being, but she wasn't going to let her family be hurt if she could stop it. "Please, tell me more."
And so the foreign nobleman began his report. I he noticed the grim look on her face, he did not react.
Several weeks had passed since the odd day where Apollyon was in charge of Nicola's body. It had taken a day and half for them to swap places proper, signaled by Apollyon unceremoniously collapsing in the middle of what would have become an argument with Chrom. Why? The cause was simple: Maribelle had been kidnapped.
Nicola was rather livid when he came to after that, but his other was positively fuming.
"Of all the gods damned things to happen, of course she had to be kidnapped!"
It wasn't the Shepherd's fault.
"I know that, but it doesn't change the fact that it happened while she was out with them. Did you see how devastated Lissa and her father were once they were given the news?"
He had. Lissa, less than a day after being bed ridden while her strength recovered from something that had happened while he was unconscious, had fainted where she stood upon being given the news. Swift action prevented her from cracking her head open on the marble floor once it happened, but she'd been incredibly sullen since then.
Maribelle's father took things far worse. It looked as if he'd aged three decades in the span of a few minutes when the news was broken and he quickly excused himself before locking himself away in a guest room, only leaving to fulfill the barest of necessities. He hardly responded to any attempts at conversation and from the sound of things he'd taken heavily to wine and harder drinks in the evening. He would break if she died, that much was certain.
That was perhaps the one piece of good news in the situation, that Maribelle wasn't dead. It was mired by the fact that in order to keep her alive, the royal family was more or less being told to start a war with Plegia by stealing a jewel from Plegia's king and give up the Fire Emblem, an artifact and heirloom kept by their family. Chrom was adamantly opposed to it, as were the majority of the Shepherds, wanting to instead find and rescue Maribelle and cut down her kidnappers. Nicola was in favor of that as well, but Apollyon and several others pointed out the obvious: they had no idea where Maribelle was being kept or if she was even alive at that point.
"While I hope that she is still alive, she could have been killed the moment she was spirited away. The fact that Robin and Chrom were given no indication that she was beyond the word of that Vajra character is disconcerting." When he relayed that sentiment, Frederick, Miriel and Phila agreed and brought up similar in a later, much smaller gathering.
"Lady Maribelle is strong, but anyone capable of commanding the Risen must be powerful," Frederick stated, cradling his normally shield clad arm gingerly. The skin from his wrist to his elbow was horribly discolored, blackened as if it had been charred by fire yet waxy as if it was ready to peel away at the slightest contact. He hadn't quite had the time to visit a healer, not so soon after the Shepherd's return at least. "I'd imagine they are ruthless as well if they would slaughter an entire village and raise its former residents as Risen. I wouldn't be surprised if they are attempting to manipulate us with an empty promise rather than the truth."
"Indeed. There is also the matter of not being given a way to contact said kidnappers in regard to whether or not we accept their ultimatum," Miriel added. "Are we to expect them to appear without warning on a specific day? Will they send us notice of some sort that they are ready to make the exchange? Without any understanding of how they will contact us or how deeply their influence reaches, we remain on the back foot in regard to this matter."
"More than that, there is the issue of Gangrel," Phila breathed. "He will be arriving at a rather tense time with his own small entourage."
"The madman is coming to the hali—" Chrom stopped himself. "That would explain what she meant then."
"Yes and that will prove problematic because his arrival will certainly incite riots and unrest among the people. His arrival and that of the other delegation will certainly make removing the 'sphere of darkness' he holds a near impossible task, were we even to consider doing so. The eyes of many would be watching us and acting in a manner contrary to our nation's reputation may cause our allies to repudiate us as breaker's of our word and untrustworthy."
"So you're saying we should just let the Mad King be? After everything he's done," Chrom snapped.
"In a word, yes," Phila nodded, earning a surprised look from the prince. "King Gangrel, mad as he may be, has requested an audience with Lady Emmeryn under the terms of a truce. To that end he willingly disclosed the size of his entourage and promised to adhere to our nation's customs and laws for the duration of his stay, so long as he and his entourage are treated as guests rather than attacked on sight. Lady Emmeryn has already agreed and to break from such an agreement would reflect poorly on her, not only to the feroxi you've made an agreement with, but to our own people as well. It would also end any chance at a less antagonistic relationship with Plegia for generations."
The Wing Commander allowed that to sink in. as Chrom tried to formulate a counter. Before he could, another spoke up, someone most forgot had joined them.
"If I may," Virion added. "I believe we are looking at things the wrong way."
The attention of the room turned to him.
"Explain if you would," Phila prompted.
"Do you not think that the timing for this is rather coincidental?" He waited a moment. "The arrival of the feroxi delegation, the arrival of the mad king and an ultimatum that would ruin the relationship of three nations if followed through?"
"When you put it like that..." Chrom trailed off. "It does seem odd that all of these things are happening near the same time. The one calling themselves Vajra even knew that Gangrel would be coming soon."
"Exactly," Virion nodded. "I believe that it is, so to speak, a grand trap meant to ensnare all involved. I cannot prove it, but I believe that pressures within Plegia have been timed to push their king towards us for one reason or another to exactly intersect with the meeting with Regna Ferox?"
"And why would– Oh no." Frederick caught on first, followed by Phila and the others in the room. "That would cause untold chaos. Do you have any proof of the matter?"
"Only that there have been rumors floating about a few groups looking to depose the Lady Exalt and more that suspect figures may be gathering in the dark to arrange such an endeavor," Virion explained. "You see, not long ago a contact of mine reached out and warned me of what looked to be the start of an attempt on Lady Emmeryn's life. Her ladyship has already been informed of the matter and will be taking the necessary precautions, but what if she wasn't the only target? What if the supposed assailants aren't aiming for her at all, but instead to frame Ylisse for actions your nation did not commit?"
"You believe, if the rumors on the assassination are truthful, that they would be aiming for Gangrel and the leader of the feroxi delegation," Miriel said flatly. "It would be one thing if Gangrel was killed en route to the capital or otherwise waylaid, but it is another issue entirely if he dies near the same time another leader falls within a 'safe' location. Such an action would lead to an all out war across the entire continent."
"Precisely."
That was a lot to chew to take into account and a lot to work with.
"Can you verify that this information is accurate," Frederick asked after a short silence.
"I cannot at the moment, though I imagine the assassins that struck at me and my contact may help validate the issue," the teal haired man replied. "Sadly, from what I've been told, said assassins have been rather glib."
"The incident with Lissa also comes to mind," Phila mused, annoyance flashing across her features for a brief moment. "It appears that we've been caught in a series of targeted efforts to destabilize our nation, but without the foresight and understanding to avoid them until now. Two questions now remain: how can we use this knowledge to our advantage?"
"Two incidents together is happenstance, three is coincidence, but four or more is a pattern," Miriel began. "As things are, we are still lacking critical information to fully see what is attempting to unfold around us, but not to the degree that we are remotely blind. That feels too convenient."
"The way things have lined up, the timing and how blatant they are appears to be rather intentionally obvious," Frederick nodded. "Everything stands out far too much for this to be anything but intentional, if scattered. Did the perpetrators not think we would connect the matters so quickly or..."
"Did they set things up in such a manner that we would notice because they are confident in their ability to enact their schemes regardless of our knowledge," Chrom finished. That seemed remarkably like what Nicola claimed Loki was fond of doing. The odd woman visibly schemed and plotted, making her plans known, only to have several other aspects hidden or working behind the scenes. She was loud to be subtle, flashy to keep attention away from the smaller things, as cunning as a fox and near inscrutable in her wants beyond sowing chaos.
"It appears then that we are walking into a losing battle regardless of what we do," another voice said, throwing open the doors to the conference room in a single move. Robin didn't look to be in the best of moods Chrom decided. She'd been far more irritable since she'd collapsed after seeing Odin's cursed arm as he had called it. She wasn't being mean spirited, but she looked and acted like she had a major headache and that everyone was responsible for it.
"Ah, Robin, you've arrived," the prince tried, giving his friend and tactician a welcoming smile. She met it with a look that wasn't a glare, not quite one at least, but wasn't exactly mirthful in the slightest. She was still in a bit of an odd place after the village, but she wasn't hair's breadth from beheading someone by her own admission.
"I have and I've heard a bit of what's going on. Care to enlighten me on the full details?" It didn't take long to get the silver haired woman up to speed or for her to start drawing up plans to get out of the situation. "If we're caught in a web and near everything we do traps us further, we may as well burn the entire thing down."
The planning and discussion adjourned soon after, but the same group met several more times over the next few days before a proper plan of action was decided on.
"You're distracted," Cordelia remarked, crossing spears with Nicola as Anna watched over them. Phila had been busy the past few days and requested that the Guardian take over their training while she handled business. Aquila served as the acting Wing Commander for the time being and kept things running as they normally would. "What's bothering you?"
"I'm still worried about Maribelle," the spearman responded, forcing the red haired woman back as he pushed her spear towards the ground. Distracted or not, he wasn't a pushover in a spar. He'd been losing more than he'd been winning or bringing them to a draw, failing to react to things he would have handily evaded or stopped if he was paying attention. It was mildly irritating, Cordelia found, but she could also understand why.
His best friend and lover, as much as he denied it, had gone missing and there wasn't anything he could do about it. Cordelia also found herself missing the blonde noblewoman, her presence inspired Nicola to better far more than the Wing Commander's critiques or the Guardian's advice, and she was far kinder than her fiery temper led one to believe. It helped that she nettled Nicola from time to time, heckling him when he did poorly, but praising him when he did well.
"Your performance was most admirable today," she'd once said, after the spearman grasped one of Lady Phila's techniques that had eluded him for the longest time. "You'll make a fetching pegasus rider at this rate, especially if they find a uniform that fits you properly."
Cordelia hadn't seen someone go from red with embarrassment, the spearman could not take compliments to save his life, to frowning as if he'd been drenched by a carriage passing on a rainy day. He rolled his eyes and trotted off after blowing a handful of grass into the noblewoman's face, much to her consternation. Still, even as the two of them nagged at each other Cordelia could see the warmth and friendship they shared for one another.
Nicola had finally gotten the hang of something he'd been having trouble with for going on five months at the time and he'd finally pulled it off. It wasn't quite an issue of skill, so much as his physique didn't match what was needed to pull off the move, a precise and measured whip-like kick that could make even the weakest bronze spear pierce through a general's armor when done correctly. The issue hadn't been related to the speed of the kick, he was more than fast enough to pull it off, but a matter of the power and range of motion needed. Nicola wasn't the most flexible person which made Phila's fighting style incredibly difficult for him to learn as is, the flexibility and range of motion required weren't something he could easily achieve. He had gradually been making strides in that direction and his full range of motion had expanded, but he wasn't going to be pulling off high kicks or anything similar without starting his training from scratch or rebuilding his musculature from the ground up.
Part of it was because he was a man, there was a certain level of flexibility that would be far harder for him to reach from that alone. More than that was how he was built. He wasn't a wall of ripping muscle or even as largely built as Prince Chrom, who wasn't overly muscular but still had some to show, but his build was less lean than it could have been. It was like a mix between a sword fighter, someone who took to the front lines and had to condition themselves to wear moderate armor to not be weighed down, and a much leaner thief or scout: he was strong in areas, but had weaknesses in other areas that didn't make sense for either build on their own. Really, the best thing for him to do would be to focus his training on addressing those core issues, but— Ah, she was getting distracted.
Maribelle was important to Nicola and he suffered from her absence. It made defeating him easier, but each victory felt hollow. He wasn't putting in anything resembling his full effort and the Guardian was getting irritated from the look of things.
"That's enough," the older Anna snapped after another bout had passed. "Cordelia, work on your forms for the time being. If you're confident, attempt the balance exercises and your more advanced forms at the same time. I need to talk to Kir- Nicola for a few moments."
That was a minor oddity about Nicola and the Guardian's relationship: when she was annoyed with him, she'd call him Kiran. She never explained why, not that Cordelia had ever asked, but it was a noticeable thing. About as noticeable as her dragging him off then leaping to the top of the highest spire in the halidom in one bound, but the pegasus rider had long since lost her awe of the Guardian's physical prowess. She respected it, but she'd grown rather accustomed to the outlandish physical feats the older woman could perform. She only hoped she didn't lay into Nicola too much.
"I'm going to ask that you stop moping and get serious about your training, Nicola," Anna sighed. "As things are, you're dragging down yourself and Cordelia with how little effort you're putting in. I get your friend is missing, but the world isn't going to stop turning because of that."
"I know that, but—"
"No excuses. If there's any chance that she's alive, you need to focus and keep your head on straight. You act like this and you're liable to die to an above average brigand, not even one of Hel's followers."
"Don't say her name."
"It doesn't matter if I say it, Kir- Nicola, she has no bond with me. She has one with you and that's going to likely make or break things when you fight her next. If you can even reach her."
"I will."
"Not with your current performance you won't. You'd die in vain, having done absolutely nothing. Then how would you avenge the fallen?"
Silence.
"I'll say it again, you need to focus and hone in more," Anna sighed, taking a seat beside the spearman, "Rather than break down, you need to redouble your efforts. If taking someone important to you away, not necessarily killing them, is enough to bring about a change like this, anyone and everyone after you will use the same method or worse once they realize how effective it is. How will you react if they decide to kill them? How will you function if they're possessed or brainwashed and you're forced to fight them?
You can't just stop because you're in pain, even if that feels like the most comfortable thing to do. It's easy to get trapped by that feeling, to not move on and grow, but you have to. It's a lesson you have to learn when you lose people, whether that be from them dying, being taken from you or leaving before you're ready for them to go. You have to move forward and grow, even if that means taking a slow tentative step beyond what you know and trust. It doesn't mean you've forgotten them or done them a disservice, it means you won't allow the past and pain to shackle you. It's fine to hurt, it's fine to feel worry and be anxious even, but don't let those things consume you. Grief can be just as insidious as revenge, you know. It can warp the strongest person and break the most stout hearted in an instant, but it can be moved past."
Nicola didn't give an answer and Anna sighed a second time. "I've said my piece. Perhaps the other person you converse with will reach you instead. Until then though, until you're out of the funk you're in, don't come back to train. Nothing meaningful will come of it if you don't give it your all."
Then she was gone, vanishing as the wind blew, leaving Nicola to his thoughts. He knew what she said was true, he'd come to that conclusion when he decided he would try to move forward months back. He hadn't expected to just collapse immediately after something went wrong, though. Perhaps what Apollyon had been saying about taking his time healing held some merit after all.
He was thankful that his other left him to his own devices for this manner. Sometimes he needed to work through his problems on his own and this was one such time. He needed, perhaps ironically, to be strong like Emmeryn tried to be. He didn't need to be affectless, but he couldn't keep letting his emotions drag him down when they hit a low point. For one, that was no way to live. More than that, however, he knew he was better than that. He wasn't some house with rotted foundations and boarded up, broken down walls, he was a survivor and fighter. Perhaps, some time ago, he could have even been called a hero. He couldn't be now, not if he was this fragile, not if he shutdown anytime someone important to him disappeared or died.
Fear and grief couldn't be his foundation, not if he wanted to help others and certainly not if he wanted to protect the people he'd grown to care for. Lissa came to mind, then Maribelle, Chrom and Frederick. Virion was also there, the odd familiarity with the noble archer having never faded, and so was Robin. Then there were the friends he'd sent away, none of whom would stand him moping around like he'd been for the past year. Even Corrin, as softhearted and kind as he'd been, would have gotten on his case, not to mention Lon'qu and Hector. He'd be letting all of them down if he remained like this, too afraid of himself to act and too afraid of pain to move forward. That needed to change and, for once in a long while, he wasn't going to let someone else push him towards it.
"Apollyon."
"Yes?"
"I'm opening the box."
"You are!? Finally resolved enough to accept yourself in full?"
"Not in the slightest." The roiling power he felt trying to claw its way out terrified him to no end. "But I'll have to if I'm going to press on."
"Then you have my full support. Just remember, take your time and don't dive off the deep end before you're ready."
"Right."
Neither was aware that the caged power waited intently, eager to finally be released.
The remaining weeks until Gangrel and the feroxi delegation passed relatively slowly for Nicola. With most of the Shepherds preoccupied or busy training, Lissa in a dour mood and Phila often having to cut training sessions short to deal with other things, he didn't really interact with many people. He still sparred with Cordelia, returning after a week of practicing with the power he locked away, and Lon'qu when the quiet man came to challenge him. The results had been mixed, but he'd learned a few things.
First of which was that he had had very little control of the power beyond its output and said control of that was rudimentary at best. There were no convenient percentages or stages of power he could call upon on at a whim. The power was like the tide, surging forth far higher than anticipated at some times and distant, and low at other times. That made properly grasping it a pain he realized all to quickly, within hours of his first attempts to grasp at it.
There were three rough stages to the power he could attempt to draw on, only one properly set in stone—the one he couldn't use in the slightest. The first was the smallest sliver, making his eyes into the uncomfortable ghostly blue he'd seen in the mirror as it surrounded him with arcs of teal and violet lightning. He felt faster, his senses heightened and he could gather power into his spear or himself to empower himself further and extend the range of his strikes.
The next stage was the wild and unpredictable sea like power born from allowing what felt like half of the sealed power to flow freely. This was the power that tried to free itself when he'd engaged the Guardian all that time ago, when anger nearly overtook him and his composure had shattered for a few moments. Sometimes he felt twice or even thrice as fast as azure and black lavender wreathed his form and his shadow deepened, but other times he felt just slightly stronger than when he drew forth a sliver of power. Regardless, chains and blades of shadow and lightning would accompany his strikes and he could fire near invisible first sized spheres of energy with a dedicated thrust or lunge.
That was about as much as he could comfortably handle as he slowly pushed himself to be capable of wielding the same level of power he briefly drew upon in Themis, with disastrous results each time. Any attempt to release his seal further resulted in a severe migraine, his skull feeling as if it would split open as he became acutely aware of everything going on around him. Any further and the sensory overload would become too much to bear and he'd discharge whatever power had gathered around him, the form it took he couldn't make out through the pain, before immediately passing out and being forced to swap with Apollyon after several minutes. A terrible occurrence, but several steps up from going berserk. Apollyon theorized it had to do with stress and a lack of discipline on his part, where he wasn't quite ready to call upon his power but not in a severe enough situation for the impact of using it not to matter. Essentially, that his reluctance had stopped him from long easing into that amount of power without a dire enough impetus to force him past whatever unconscious stops he had in place.
"Ultimately, that's fine," Apollyon remarked after the fifth attempt to release that much power over two and a half weeks. "You aren't ready for that much power, not if you have trouble drawing out consistent amounts of power when it isn't surging. It just means you'll need to take your time and slowly work your way towards it."
His other was far more accommodating when it came to such matters.
The second thing Nicola learned was that drawing on any of level of his power made his afterimages became far more long lived. They still shattered relatively quickly, but they could take three to four hits instead of one and could perform more complex maneuvers without him initiating them. That knowledge combined with the rather subtle lesson Anna tried to teach him months ago, that his afterimages could only perform actions that he'd mastered, allowed him to further his training in ways he hadn't quite thought to try before. If he felt iffy on a technique, he could summon an afterimage and see if it could pull it off. If it couldn't he needed to practice it more. That led him to the realization that he'd really been slacking, when his afterimages couldn't pull off more than half of the techniques he'd thought he'd perfected a long while ago. Conversely, when they showed that they could use the kicks and strikes he'd been learning from the Wing Commander a weight was lifted from his shoulders. He'd been, until recently, giving his all in her lessons as he tried to incorporate the incompatible elements of her style into his own. Her rather stoic demeanor and his own feelings of inadequacy led him to believe he was failing at that, but now newfound confidence bloomed as he worked to make the older woman's techniques his own.
The third thing he learned was that he couldn't teleport when using anything less than the full force of the sealed power. Actually, that wasn't entirely true. He could in fact teleport a short distance when experiencing a surge of power, but. he'd fall over and start retching the moment he reappeared from the sheer disorientation and strain it caused him. It was one thing to cover a vast amount of distance in a few moments, his body had long grown accustomed to that and his stomach no longer felt like it was somersaulting when he did so. It was another thing entirely to just appear somewhere else and until he could either grow accustomed to feeling as sick as a dog from doing so or finally drawing on his full power, it was better to just speed himself and trade places with afterimages. That had been another thing he'd come to realize, that he could just phase into a location where he would project one of his afterimages. Apparently that didn't count as teleportation, even if it was effectively the same thing is his eyes. Perhaps it was a matter of having an anchor point or focused destination beyond a place he could see, but he wasn't certain any conclusions he drew mattered for the time being. He didn't understand it, not in the slightest, because he'd just been able to do it once he could create afterimages. He didn't question it, he just noted it down to explore at a later time.
The final thing he learned was that his earth magic, what he played off as earth magic at least, was much weaker when using this power. He could manipulate larger rocks faster than he'd normally be able to manipulate standard rocks, but they didn't have as much strength behind them—for all that they weighed more—and they could travel half as far before he lost control of their movement and the rocks fell or lost their shape. Conversely, after a number of odd looks and equally odd purchases, he was able to manipulate ashes far easier in comparison. He didn't have the skill or lightning fast manipulation Apollyon had over the substance, but he could make more than poorly layered shells and razor thin blades now. He hadn't really grasped making multiple disconnected platforms or multitudes of weapons either, but his other promised that he'd eventually get the hang of it if he practiced more. And so he did, between sparring with Cordelia and studying at the Mage's College.
The day both delegations arrived was surprisingly quiet and Emmeryn couldn't have been more worried. The nobility hadn't taken the news quite well, with most of the family leaders present calling for Gangrel's immediate capture and execution. Duke Adrasta, having mustered the energy to attend the meeting, was one of two that did not. The other was the Lady Alexandra of Tethys. That was a rather strong shift from her usual demeanor, the Duchess of Tethys had lost both her parents during the crusades after Plegian agents waylaid them as they made their way to the capital. Still, such a change was welcome at the moment. Emmeryn would ask more about that at a later time rather than poke and prod at the slightly older woman in the midst of a terse meeting.
The feroxi delegates were the first to arrive, most of whom traveled by foot. Khan Basilio stood out quite easily with his imposing physique and bare chest of rippling muscle. The man looked as if he could handily force a bear into submission and carried himself in a relaxed manner only wizened warriors seemed to have. It was rare that someone made Phila stumble and stare, something Ememryn tucked away for later.
Following the mountain of a man were his two daughters. One rode sidesaddle atop a snow white pegasus with beautiful pale blue wings, draped in a thick fur cloak. Her eyes and hair were bright pink, with two long braids falling to either side of her face while the rest fell behind her in a ponytail, and her complexion was that of unblemished porcelain. She looked rather dainty, Emmeryn thought as she saw how pensive the young woman appeared to be, but she didn't ignore the sword that hung at her side.
The other daughter was a woman with bright green eyes and plum colored hair styled into a braid that fell over her shoulder. Unlike her sister, she had a slight tan and looked far more confident in her own pure white garb with black sleeves and tights. She didn't appear to be remotely bothered by the cold, humming as she walked with a spring in her step. She did not carry a weapon, but she had an energetic air around her that said she was ready for a fight if one came to her.
Behind them was an odd trio. One was a man with dark blue hair that faded to black towards the tip and dark red eyes. He wore a heavy fur cape over spiky black armor. A massive sword rested on his back, strapped to the cape he wore, as he walked, occasionally glancing back at the two others trailing behind him. The next was a cloaked woman with silvery grey hair and bright red eyes. She followed just behind the swordsman, carrying an ornate steel colored book decorated with leafy veins. She was hard to read, expression devoid of discernable emotion as she walked.
Lastly was a person Emmeryn hadn't met, but had heard of. She recognized the blue and red clad figure as Marth. The butterfly shaped mask, blue hair the same shade as Chrom's and blade that appear eerily similar to the Falchion all but confirmed their identity as trailed after the rest of the group. A frown tugged at the young man's face as the group reached the castle gate.
"Welcome," Emmeryn greeted, Phila and Frederick at her side. "It is a pleasure to properly meet you, Khan Basilio."
She kept the greeting simple. From what Chrom had told her, brevity was preferred in Regna Ferox and she didn't mind dispensing with the overly grand formalities.
"Well met, Lady Exalt," Basilio returned with a wolfish grin. "Basilio works just fine, I'm not the ruling Khan at the moment, but the title isn't too important at this time."
"Then please, call me Emmeryn, if we are to be dispensing with titles."
"Emmeryn it is," the older man nodded, before turning towards his group. "These are my daughters, Aerie and Olivia."
"H-hello," Olivia, the mounted woman, greeted shyly.
"Heya," Aerie, the standing daughter, beamed.
"Greetings," Emmeryn returned with a nod. "I take it the other three are your guards."
"Indeed. The swordsman in black is Sieg, the cloaked lass is Aria and the masked kid goes by Marth."
The trio offered their own greetings and Emmeryn returned them. "Well met all of you. If you follow Frederick, he will lead you to the meeting room while Phila can lead your mount to the stables if you would like. I would accompany you, but I have several more guests to wait for."
"Ah, that lot hasn't arrived yet?" Emmeryn had long informed him that Gangrel would be arriving on the same day to prevent any undue confusion. When the Exalt shook her head the bald man continued. "I see. Would have thought they would have arrived sooner considering the distance they'd need to travel."
"They have not graced us with their presence yet, but I imagine they will arrive shortly."
"I hope so, the sooner the better."
With that Frederick led the majority of the group into the palace, with Olivia choosing to stay behind.
"I'll go with Dewey if you wouldn't mind, just so I know where he is later," she explained meekly.
"That is perfectly fine," Phila answered, a gentle smile crossing her face. "Please follow me."
"Just a moment," a sultry voice called, drawing the Wing Commander and cloaked woman's attention. "I would also like my Azalea taken as well if you wouldn't mind."
When the Exalt glanced over, she found herself looking at a group of four. The most stand out of the four was a tanned man with curly scarlet hair and eyes. He wore a simple silver crown and was garbed in a silver vest over a loose fitting silken tunic over dark trousers and dark boots with platinum filigree. A rich red cape fluttered along his back, embroidered with threads of shining gold. A multitude of rings adorned his fingers, the four on his left hand made of rose gold and studded with red and black gemstones cut immaculately. The four rings on his right hand were silver with curling bands, each adorned with transparent and violet gems that changed colors as light shifted across them. The quality of each item told Emmeryn that each piece of the simple looking attire must have cost a small fortune, even more with the layers of defensive magic that hummed from each article. The most notable object on his person, however, was the pitch black sphere the man wore around his neck on a chain of silver. Light dimmed around the object as dark specks of light gleamed within its depths. If she didn't know any better, she would have thought he wore the Sable openly.
At his side was a similarly tanned woman with stark white hair and crimson eyes. Her dress-like garb was revealing and hugged her hips, the skin from the center of her chest down to her navel bared to reveal plum colored tattoos. Matching tattoos framed the sides of her face as she smiled devilishly. At her side was an ebony pegasus with near pitch colored wings, each tipped in a different color. Despite the dark air around its master, the beast appeared to be gentle.
Just behind her stood a pair of mages. The was a pale woman with long dark hair that fell past her shoulders with two small tails hanging from either side. A curved headdress made of gold rested atop her head while her clothes covered more than the other woman's but left far less to the imagination, consisting of a skin tight bodysuit made of thin dark fabric and gold bands that rested on her wrists, thighs and ankles. Darker thicker cloth with a golden band underneath covered her chest and a similarly dark piece of cloth with gold trim acted as a waist cloth, held in place by two flat golden bands on either side of her waist. A dark cloak with gold embroidery, golden heels and a golden gorget complete the look. A violet tome rested on her hip as she glanced around the area, seemingly irritated.
The other mage was an equally pale young man with short snow white hair. His garb was distinctly not of plegian make, consisting of a black long sleeved tunic under a lavender vest and black cloak with a magenta interior. Formal black trousers and matching black dress shoes adorned his legs while a maroon and gold sash hung from his waist, held in place by a golden emblem with thin gold chains hanging from it. He carried a lavender gold bound tome at his side as a crow made more of shadow than feathers perched on his shoulder. He wore a disarming, if unnerving smile.
"Gangrel," Emmeryn said evenly, looking at the red haired man.
"Pacifist," he returned. "I'm glad your people got the memo to leave me and mine be as we arrived."
"So long as you do not break your side of the truce, I will ensure my people do not as well."
"Good. I take it the other party's already arrived?"
"Just moments before, yes."
"I see." The red haired king let the response hang before addressing the tan woman. "Aversa."
"Yes, my liege?"
"Once your pegasus is situated, make sure those two fine a spot to sit comfortably. Best they don't loiter around lest they draw unwanted attention."
"I believe Henry and Tharja are perfectly capable of doing that themselves. After all, they also made the decision to serve you rather than the Fell God."
Gangrel grunted. "Whatever. Just make sure you don't start anything. If any Ylisseans try to start anything, leave 'em be unless they get physical. If they do, at least don't kill 'em."
"So long as they leave me be, they'll be left alone," Tharja supplied.
"No promises," Henry giggled.
"Henry, don't cause a scene if you can help it."
"Eh, sure Livie!" The young man paused, a bright red eye cracking open as he looked at the pink haired woman. "Wait, Livie!?"
"H-hi... Eek!" The pink haired woman wasn't quite ready for how fast the shorter man appeared at her side to wrap her in a tight embrace. Phila tensed for a moment, but calmed herself when the feroxi woman returned the embrace. "It's nice to see you again."
"You as well," Henry beamed.
"Likewise, Olivia," Aversa smiled, far more gently than before. "It is good to see that you're well."
"You too, Aversa, Tharja."
The dark haired woman didn't reply, but gave a slight nod. Emmeryn thought she saw a ghost of a smile cross her face, but Gangrel drew her attention.
"You all know her," he asked dryly.
"Indeed," Aversa answered. "Do you recall the period of time where I was unable to be found, my liege?"
"The period when the cult decided they were going to send that slug of a man to take your place as advisor and I had him flogged and exiled for being more incompetent than he was conniving. What of it?"
"I'd been rather forcefully called to a rather grand Outrealm. During that time, I properly met Henry and Tharja and several others as we banded together under a rather young and green leader for a time. Before we were pushed to return by our leader, to us after a several year span, we had become close though we lost contact with Olivia soon after."
"It was an odd time yeah," Henry nodded. "Our boss was pretty cool though. He didn't mind Dark Mages or anything like that, just that we didn't try to kill each other while we were on the same side. He didn't really like leading, preferring to fight on the front lines and giving general commands to keep us safe. I wonder what happened to him though."
"Knowing him? He's probably just fine," Tharja remarked. "The worse things looked, the better he was at dealing with them."
"Y-yeah, even if he was a little scary from time to time," the pink haired woman added.
Gangrel's expression said he didn't want to try understanding any of the story he'd been given, but he accepted it with a tired nod. Emmeryn and Phila exchanged looks. That sounded like a certain spearman, one who knew Aversa by name. It obviously wasn't the time to bring that up, but it was interesting to hear a similar story that matched his.
"Phila, do you mind taking Olivia and Aversa to the stables?" As much as she would have loved to hear more of the experiences in the 'Outrealm,' she had a waiting audience and a long night ahead of her—longer if the rumor of an assassination attempt proved to be truthful.
"I do not, but not before another arrives to escort you and the remaining guests to the audience room, milady."
"That's—"
"Pretty smart," Gangrel nodded approvingly. "While I'm not a barbarian who would break a truce, it's always good to play things safe."
"I'm glad you understand, Lord Gangrel."
The red haired king rolled his eyes. "So, how long until this new escort arrives? The sooner we're done with this nonsense, the better. I'm not fond of leaving my kingdom at the mercy of that damned death cult for any span of time, even with a general of mine at the helm."
"They should be arriving shortly," the Wing Commander supplied. As she spoke, a familiar looking man with fading green hair and ash grey eyes appeared. He wore a sleeveless tuning with detached sleeves and baggy dark trousers beneath silver greaves and sabatons. A bright red scarf adorned his neck and a simple, two headed spear rested along his back. Almost immediately Olivia's pegasus began to panic, nearly rearing up before Olivia soothed it with a simple gesture. The pale beast watched the stranger warily while Aversa's mount whinnied in what seemed like recognition.
"I'm here Phila. Does Ememryn still need an..." The young man trailed off as four sets of eyes locked onto him. He blinked once, then rubbed his eyes. "...Huh?"
"Kiran?" "It's you!" "What a pleasant surprise." "You appear to be doing well, Summoner."
It was his turn to be crowded as a confused look spread across his face. An explanation was in order.
Night had fallen and Gaius didn't have much time to act. He'd been distracted when a group of assassins tried to attack Jake and Anna, bailing them out at the cost of an injury to his side. Tight spaces weren't his preferred place to fight, even less so when said spaces were lined with sharp or heavy objects waiting to fall or stab into anyone too careless. Once the assassins had been taken care of, he hadn't had the luxury or willingness to keep them alive once they got innocents involved, he'd passed out.
When he came to, he'd been patched up and both Jake and Anna looked like they were gearing up for a fight. Jake had his bow, a massive thing meant to take down griffons from several hundred steps away, and three quivers of javelin sized arrows ready while Anna had her trusty hammer and an odd pair of gloves. Both were lightly armored from what the thief could tell, both wearing chest protectors over thick tunics that sounded like falling rain as they moved.
"The assassination attempt is tonight, right," Jake asked. When Gaius nodded, the purple haired man gave a grim look. "Then we don't have time. The network's reported lots of underground movement, so we're gonna be playing catch up if we're trying to stop it."
"You aren't gonna be able to sneak with that weapon of yours, Jake," Gaius sighed.
"Not my plan. Gonna look for a good vantage point and do what I'm good at."
"Looking handsome in front of the forge," Anna suggested.
The other thing I'm good at," the man laughed. "I'll be providing ranged support for you and anyone else attempting to protect the Exalt."
"Likewise, I'll be going in with you," Anna said. "I may not look like it now, but I've had a bit of training and I've more tricks up my sleeves than you have sweets stashed away."
Anna must have had a great deal of tricks then, considering how many sweets he had on his person at the moment. Gaius wasn't going to argue with them, the more help in preventing the Exalt's death the better.
"If you feel you're in danger, get to safety," he said instead. He waited until both nodded before asking a rather important question. "Are my daggers and knives in good shape?"
"Yep, did a bit of work on them while you rested. Also made these for you," the smith said, handing the thief a heavy gauntlet with what looked to be a crossbow attached to it and several small cases of bolts. "If anyone asks, you found it in a ruin some time ago. Don't wanna get into too much trouble with the network, ya know?"
The ginger man nodded quietly. Of all the Annas he knew, she was the one he trusted most and he wasn't one to betray that sort of trust if he could help it. If this weird crossbow thing needed to be the work of another smith or relic, it would be that. One didn't simply cross an Anna and get away with it. The second object she handed him was sword on the shorter side of things. Lightweight and thin, but nothing like the rapiers nobles used. He fastened its scabbard to his side without a nod. If his daggers and knives failed him, having a backup that wasn't his fists would serve him well.
"Are we all set?"
"Good on my end," Jake nodded.
"Same here," Anna said.
"Then move out." The trio moved in was fitting that it soon started to rain, hiding the sounds of Jake and Anna's attire as they traversed the deathly quiet city. Windows were shuttered and stores were closed as a chilling wind blew ominously.
Gaius wasn't a man of faith, the gods were a mystery to him beyond the most barebones of information, but he felt like uttering a small prayer for a moment. Something evil was here, something worse than the syndicate trying to kill the Exalt. He hoped he wasn't the one that found it first and that the opposite did not happen either: he was a normal man, not really cut out for grand things like mages and heroes were. He preferred it that way too: fame and attention was a terrible thing for people in his line of business if they wanted to remain in it.
Once they reached the palace walls any hope for that died. There was far too much blood and too many naked signs of combat to say anything resembling stealth or finesse had been used.
Not good, not good at all.
A/N: The very beginning of the Assassination attempt on the Exalt. Things will begin to pick up from here onwards, both in divergences from the canon story and pace of events. Things will still slow down at times, when needed, but the pace of things overall will speed up once this is all said and done and the arc kicks off in full.
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