Eyes upon Sacae
Sacae – the name given to the expansive plains in the east of Archanea. Tall grass swayed with the wind, from the Silver Stream to the mountain range adjourning the sea, a vastness of several hundred miles as the wyvern soars. Tribes ruled the land, the Lorca in the barren steppes to the west and the Taliver in their halls of wind-polished cliff formations and countless more who scattered with the gales, and unless they revived an old blood feud between different families, they roamed the grass ocean in peace or hunted antelopes.
These days, the Pheraen flag billowed above their heads.
While Sacae had always stood under Pheraen rule, no king before Roy had enforced his status with the number of casualties his imperial expansion had cost. A swift campaign with support from the principality of Ostia had crushed oppositions, and a few burnt tribe camps later, the list of challengers in Sacae had shrunken to none.
However, despite his best efforts, Roy had failed to tame the wilderness and its people; even fire cannot catch the wind. It scatters and hides to blow anew, and in the same fashion, the people of Sacae scattered and hid in their sea of grass. Low numbers and a splintered leadership prevented the tribes from rising against the armored hand that kept them down, but their discontent cries still rose above the hems of the tall grass from time to time.
Reason enough for Lucina to dare a detour on her way to Lycia.
One of the reports Soren had dug up amidst the paper mountains at Aurelis' garrison had confirmed that the king had given an order to assemble all available forces at Lycia under the command of supreme general Galle. And after Ike's party had lit such a spectacular beacon, Roy expected a desperate march against his palace from Aurelis any day. Lucina would have gladly given him what he predicted, but a look at the people in her company had shattered her resolve. How could she bet their lives for a chance to face Roy? Yes, she might win. Free Altea as Naga wanted. But why free the land when she had no one left to share it with?
A gust stirred Lucina's hair and carried these gloomy thoughts with it. Behind her, the members of her and Ike's rebel groups had set up camp between the crooked roots of a lonely stone pine. The thin, needle-like leaves offered little shadow, but the remains of a stone well at the tree's foot suggested that at least one Sacae tribe had once found shelter here.
Lucina forced her shoulders to relax. The dry air tickled in her nose.
But she could not shake the subconscious chill from unknown eyes on her. The vast landscape would allow a Pheraen knight to spy on her from anywhere between the grass blades. A hooded hit man might hide between the branches of the pine tree a mile to the south.
And why wouldn't every assassin guild in the Empire cling to Lucina's heels? Roy wanted her dead. If his knights couldn't capture her, a Black Fang's poisoned knife would do just as well in ending her story. Roy had a country worth of riches to spend, and the infamous assassin guild had murdered for far smaller bags of gold.
Lucina traced Falchion's slender hilt. Maybe it was only the weight of Naga's eyes she felt.
An odd hundred yards away from the chatting and laughter of the camp, Ike dismembered imaginary foes. His golden greatsword cut through the air, sometimes in raw uppercuts, sometimes in longwinded chain attacks. Where Lucina's fencing tutors in Lycia used their rapiers like scalpels and targeted the weak spots between armor plates, Ike based his technique on brute muscular force. And with a sword like his, he could splinter shields and armored soldiers alike.
He noticed her approaching, but her presence alone didn't compel him to interrupt his routine.
"Your form is rather unconventional," Lucina said. "Who trained you?"
Ike halted for a moment before he chopped off an imaginary attacker's head. "Wouldn't you like to know. I bet Roy would lash out a nice promotion for this kind of information."
Lucina gnawed at the inside of her cheek. This would be harder than she had thought. "I'm not with the king anymore. I have no reason to, after he burnt down half of Terra and has most likely promised a reward for my head."
"That's what they all say. That you're trustworthy. The heir to the throne and all that." Ike glared at Lucina. "But then I have to wonder what you've been doing all this time. And I remember that you've been fighting for Pherae for years. How many troublemakers and unwilling taxpayers did you kill before you had a change of heart?"
"None."
Ike spun into an uppercut that split the air between them. "Forgive me if I find that hard to believe."
"I followed the wrong path, the wrong man, is that what you want to hear? For the longest time, I didn't know better. But I do now. Naga showed me what I must do, what I must become."
Ike snorted. "Yeah. Naga."
"I might be asking too much. You see in me nothing more than an intruder that challenges your leadership over your party members. And a few weeks ago, if we had met then, you would have killed me because I wore the crest of your enemy. You would have been right to do so, after all, you have a group of rebels to look after, an assembly of wannabe fighters and traumatized wrecks. They needed your support. They still do. But if I want to have even the slightest chance to take Lycia and end the king's rule, I will need your support too."
"You have that," Ike said. "But you don't have my trust."
He was so different from everyone else. Everyone had a desire, a dream that motivated them; riches, fame, love, a symbol to believe in. Lucina prided herself on an ability to figure out what this dream was, either through conversation or by watching the person of interest around the people they cared about. But Ike guarded his secrets with the expertise of year-long practice. Exposing her own weaknesses didn't earn her symphony points, and arguments based on logic or faith ran off him like rain water.
Lucina needed to switch up her game.
"Okay, then fight me," she said and unsheathed Falchion.
Ike lowered his greatsword and gave her a look that questioned her sanity. "You really do want to die, huh?"
"I see it more as a little competition. You don't think me capable to win this war. Let me prove you wrong. And if you defeat me and still believe I'm a spy, you can spare Roy the trouble and kill me right here and now. Who knows, if you give him my head, you might even get close enough to kill him."
Ike pondered over the idea for a little. His arm muscles tensed, and Lucina knew he would accept.
"Don't you want to take a shield?" He nodded at Falchion. "Doesn't seem fair when you only have that brittle thing to work with."
Lucina smirked. "I don't see you using a shield either."
"Whatever, it's your neck on the chopping block."
Ike spun his sword before resuming the standard pose: blade raised, one foot behind the other, solid stance. He could tell stories all he wanted, but he had received training from a fencing master. The lectures lay far back, but the foundation stones still influenced his technique.
Lucina mirrored his pose but held Falchion four inches too high; a common mistake among beginners.
Ike noticed. As Lucina had anticipated, he pounced and aimed for the opening. The heavy thrust for her hipbone could have ended the duel and the rebellion right there, but a sideways spin saved her. Ike's sword slit air, and they reestablished distance.
He growled; his boots stirred dust.
Two feigned attacks tested her reaction, she tested his patience. They circled each other like planetoids caught in the gravitational pull of the other.
Once again, he cut the waiting time short with a strike at her unguarded stomach. Lucina allowed him to advance but lowered Falchion at the last moment, a minimal exertion. Ike's sword scraped the side of the blade and produced a shrill screech that upset a swarm of finches. They fled for the sky.
Falchion altered the course of Ike's greatsword by less than ten degrees, but these degrees saved Lucina's skin. A jump and a twirl later, they had reestablished distance.
Ike realized she was acting the inexperienced swordfighter, placed his feet with more care, assessing, probing. His strikes blended into one another, a thrust became a diagonal swing, the swing became an uppercut, the uppercut an elbow strike. Lucina evaded, redirected, and parried, always one step ahead.
She played a dangerous game against time.
As her tutors had told her, her best chance to defeat a stronger opponent was a quick strike, a precise combination to disarm or wound the other combatant before she tired herself out. But Lucina hadn't proposed the duel to beat Ike in combat. A short clash followed by her victory would surprise, maybe frustrate him – a spectacle where both sides balanced on the brink between triumph and death, that would earn his respect.
Lucina and Ike locked swords and eyes, their toes almost touched. The stalemate allowed both to count the sweat beads on the other's forehead. Then Lucina pirouetted out of the way, and Ike's sword beheaded the air where she had stood.
Her lungs burned, her palms dripped, but Lucina smiled. How long since she had thrown herself against the swords of Frederick and her tutors in the sand rotunda underneath Lycia's plane trees? How long since one of them had challenged or cornered her, since the thrill of swordplay had infected every muscle?
Ike's left hand trembled, the bandage around his arm showed red spots, but a grin was tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Where were you hiding all this in Aurelis?" he asked before he pounced.
Their performance attracted the attention of the gathered rebels. They abandoned the stone pine's shadow and gawked. Soon they cheered like the spectators of gladiator matches in Renais' colosseums.
"Come on, Ike, put those arm muscles to use!" Cherche shouted.
"Don't you dare lose against that big brute, Lucina," Cordelia said. "Teach him some manners!"
Frederick clawed one hand around the pommel of his sword, and he would no doubt jump into the fray the moment Lucina would lose ground. But she had no time to signal him to stay back because Ike's strikes hailed upon her like a meteorite shower, deadly and beautiful.
She scurried backwards, lost her feet in a dust cloud. A direct parry was impossible. Falchion might withstand the force of Ike's sword, but Lucina's arms would not.
The golden blade sliced her sleeve, and with the next thrust, Ike grazed her upper leg.
Lucina winced. The shouts from the other rebels disappeared under the sound of blood rushing to her head.
If she didn't win within the next minute, Ike would end her evasive game.
He would have her at his mercy.
And Roy would triumph.
Lucina spun Falchion, and the polished steel blinded Ike for a heartbeat. He backed away. But by then Lucina had crossed the space between them, and her right foot pinned down his left one.
He reeled.
An elbow jab to his injured arm weakened the grip around his sword, and Lucina, still standing on his toes, heaved Falchion to the exposed skin of his neck, half an inch below his chin.
Neither of them moved. A drop of his sweat rolled down Falchion's ridge when Ike swallowed. They were so close that Lucina saw the fear of death flash in his eyes. Perhaps he himself didn't realize that the dread of a premature end to all his struggles and all his efforts had crawled to the forefront, but Lucina saw a glimpse of vulnerability, of a young boy on the run from a black, faceless horror.
And for a moment she owned his life.
All this power in her hands, an absolute control over another person's existence. If she let Falchion slip as little as an inch, Ike with all his dreams and ambitions, with all his demons and inhibitions would cease to exist.
It shouldn't be this easy to kill a man.
Lucina stepped back and sheathed Falchion. The rebels who had stood in stunned silence broke into cheers and a few bold ones came forward to slap Lucina on the back.
"I don't think I've ever seen Ike lose a fight," Cordelia said. "That was quite the show. Wait until the Lorca or the people of Altea see this. They will be begging to join you."
"I can only hope so," Lucina said.
Soren nodded. "Every increase of our numbers would be most welcome, indeed. Although you need not worry. I would be surprised if the Lorca have not noticed our presence by now. We passed the border to their territory a few hours ago."
"And with the noise we made, they shouldn't have a hard time tracking us down."
Lucina turned towards the owner of the voice. Ike pushed past the line of rebels who wanted to congratulate her, and they hurried to clear the area where a frustrated sword stroke of his would sweep them. But he ignored them to instead stretch out a hand towards Lucina.
"That was pretty good," he said. "Maybe you're worth more than the talk about Roy's favorite new knight."
Lucina took his hand with a smile. "Maybe you're now willing to tell me who taught you the way of the sword. The story of this particular weapon must be an interesting one." She pointed at the golden greatsword on Ike's back. Strangely, he didn't seem to own a scabbard to match the beautiful steel, and only coarse leather strips held the weapon to his shoulders.
"The answer isn't worth the trouble of risking your neck in a life-or-death duel. I'm just a guy who picked up a greater man's sword."
"Spoken like a true diplomat." Lucina did her best to conceal her disappointment. "I'm sure we will find another opportunity to talk."
"Sure."
The hunger for answers burned on her tongue, but Lucina let the topic go. Instead, she slipped out of the crowd and left Ike to answer the avalanche of questions his comrades buried him under, ranging from why he had lost to what had initiated the duel in the first place. Lucina needed time to think.
Ike might deny the truth, but he was more than a simple Altean who picked up the sword by chance and joined the rebel movement. His fencing technique might earn a frown from Lucina's former tutors for its brutality and lack of strategy, but the basis did speak of proper training from a master. The type of education the son of a lord or a knight would receive. And the way Ike had evaded her question about his sword surpassed the wit of a simple civilian. Here was a man with history. Perhaps he had served as a squire once or his family manor had been burned during the same war that had killed Lucina's parents. Either way, Ike had carved himself a reputation among the rebels. They admired his skill, not the blood lineage that tied him to the fate of the land, nor the pedestal a mystical goddess had placed him on.
Ike had a story to tell.
And Lucina would not rest until she found out how this story went.
After this short burst of excitement, the party continued their way north, this time without any displays of swordsmanship to distract from the monotonous landscape. The hard blades of the hostile grass they waded through found every hole in their boots to cut the skin. Because the group around Ike didn't have any horses, the miles between them and the northern foothills of the Copper Mountains shrunk with an unwillingness to drive the impatient members of their group to angry growls whenever they thought Lucina listened the other way. Only Tiki seemed untouched by the grueling travel conditions, as she pranced this way and that in an effort to take in as many new impressions as possible. Whether it was an unremarkable shrub, the bleat of a distant gazelle, or the smell of overripe dates, everything provoked a mystified ooh or a giggle from her.
Lucina, however, only found distraction in Tiki's antics for a short while. She spent most of the trek with watching Ike from afar.
He pressed on with an uncanny stoicism, unmoved by both his arm wound and the dry air which tasted of dust and distant war.
Frederick, who guided his horse next to Lucina, had his eyes on the same target, but the fact that his glares hadn't engraved scalding holes into Ike's back by now bordered on a miracle.
"You are taking a liking to him," Frederick said and quit his staring for a short glimpse at Lucina.
She sent him a tired smile. "Why does this sound like a crime the way you phrase it? Maybe I am taking a liking to him. He's fascinating."
"I fail to see the fascination you seem to find in murderers. You were watching Klein with almost the same expression."
Lucina yanked at the reins of her horse. The animal protested but picked up pace. "Klein was different. I should have realized sooner that I could never control his hatred."
"And yet you haven't drawn the same conclusion with him."
"Don't worry, I'm not walking into the same trap twice. Ike is nothing like Klein."
"Of course I must worry! With the utmost respect, you have the ability to inspire, and you know what people wish for the most. Naga herself must have instilled this gift into you, I truly believe it. But despite your knowledge, you are a horrible judge of character sometimes." Frederick stared at his feet and counted the dust particles on the metal sabaton. "Pardon me, I was talking without sense."
Lucina crushed a dry twig on her path. "No, I want to hear where this is going. Please, enlighten me about this weakness of mine."
Frederick squirmed as he always did when Lucina used this particular voice against him. "What I meant to say was that you can be too trusting of others. It is an admirable character trait, and I will always hold this side of you in the highest regard. But once you won a person for your party and learned about their dreams, you no longer believe they could betray you. I have seen how this has caused you harm. For eighteen years you were being deceived by—"
"I don't want to hear his name," Lucina snapped.
"I… apologize. I don't want to see you hurt."
Lucina sighed. "I know. But Ike is on our side. He wants to free Altea just as much as we do."
"I'm not questioning his goals. Merely his methods. He put innocents at risk in Aurelis without a second thought. And I am convinced he will do so again as long as these actions serve his cause. What if he raises his sword not just against civilians but against you? I will not stand aside while he trades your life for a chance to tear down the Pheraen Empire."
Lucina risked a glimpse at Ike. Could he betray her like Klein did? Like Roy did? Ike resisted her persuasions better than most and seemed determined to distrust her regardless of any royal blood or blessing from a goddess. If she failed to knit a bond with him, he could offer her head in exchange for a bloodstained audience with Roy. And what then? Would he crown himself the next tyrant or leave Archanea in smoldering ruins without a leader to rebuild?
Too many variables to Ike's character remained a mystery to Lucina. Perhaps Frederick had a point and he was a risk rather than an enigma.
"I don't like him either." Tiki, seemingly out of nowhere, had returned from her expedition to hop around Lucina's heels. With some trouble, Lucina tore her eyes from Ike and towards her. "He's so rough. If he had won the duel against you, he could have killed you. Really killed you! What would I have done then? And he only believes in the sword."
"And what are we supposed to believe in instead?" Lucina asked.
"In Naga, of course! But this Ike will cause us trouble. I can smell it. Sooner or later, he will turn into an obstacle on your path to Naga. I'm keeping an eye on him."
And as quickly as she had appeared, Tiki dove back into the tall grass to spy on Ike with all the furtiveness of a ten-year-old on squeaking soles.
Frederick's expression screamed 'I told you so'. But Lucina's glare convinced him to overthink his words. "If you do not want to listen to me, then please, at least listen to her," he said.
"I will give this some thought."
Frederick relaxed. "Thank you. That's all I'm asking for."
Lucina nodded and let her gaze wander beyond the tired rebels under her command and across the barren plains that offered nothing but heat and withered bushes. Her neck itched. And every few minutes she threw a look over her shoulder in expectation of a troop of Pheraen soldiers on her heels or an assassin's crossbow aimed at her. One time when she lost sight of Ike for a moment, she thought he would jump at her from behind and drive his golden sword into her stomach.
But her enemies kept themselves hidden.
Cherche and her wyvern circled overhead, on the lookout for signs of Lorca activity. With their watchful eyes scanning the landscape, Lucina had no reason to fear any surprise attacks. Or so she told herself.
When the first volley of arrows hit, her premonitions became iron-laden reality. Cherche's wyvern shrieked and pivoted, and a handful of arrow shafts protruded out of the fine leather wings. The creature's flight devolved into a tumble.
The other rebels scrambled for cover, but the barren plain denied them even the smallest rock to hide behind. Horses and men alike stomped around in panic, a panic amplified by the uncertainty over where the arrows had come from. Lucina clenched the reins of her horse, unable to move amidst the chaos let alone order her party into formation.
Roy had found her. He had come to finish what he had started in Terra.
But no, Roy waited for her in Lycia, on the throne Lucina had to take from him in order to free Altea. Someone else watched her out of the obscurity of the tall grass beyond the hillcrest. Someone on the hunt.
And Lucina still awaited the second volley.
Cherche's wyvern crashed to the ground in a cloud of dust and hissed at the enemy out of sight, a sound that further upset the horses unfortunate enough to stand in biting range. Those rebels not occupied with restraining their steeds had drawn their weapons, but they were aiming at nothing. The circle of fighters seemed awfully small.
The scene quieted, and the alarmed shouts faded to make room for the calm before the next storm. Everyone waited. Knuckles cramped, eyes darted across the plain, and even the animals held their breath in expectation.
Still no follow-up attack.
Then, when Lucina thought to feel a mirage of Roy breathing down her neck, four riders came to view. Where they had hidden in the grass until this point, Lucina could not tell; they appeared as though a gust of sand had placed them there. Their patterned tunics and shawls left little doubt as to their identity even if they had not moved like an extension of the grassy plain: hunters of the Lorca tribe.
A small but brawny man with a headscarf, by the looks the leader of his group, split the silence. "Drop your weapons, Pheraens. The next time we aim at your wyvern, she will not take flight again."
None of the rebels responded. All their eyes rested on Lucina as they waited for her to make a move. Her neck tensed, and she needed a moment to find her voice. This was a situation she could handle. Without Roy's presence immobilizing her or his assassins whetting their knives behind her back, she could clear up this misunderstanding or raise Falchion for the fight – depending on the type of Lorca she was dealing with.
Lucina stepped out of the cluster of rebels and into the open. The woman next to the leader fastened an arrow, but Lucina kept her head high and her shoulders straight. "What makes you think we are Pheraens?" she asked.
"You ride on Lorca territory. Only the eagle knights dare to cross these lands. With their wind-riding creatures they seek to add the plain's few treasures to their riches. Or to add Lorca blood to their swords. You are not welcome here, Pheraens. The Lorca have accepted your flag for too long!"
The other Lorca gave shouts of approval. Either the man with the headscarf had reinforcements hiding out of view, or a fit of stupid bravery compelled him to tackle a party of thirty with only four bows. Either way, he possessed the very fighting spirit Lucina had hoped to find in Sacae.
"I agree that you have stood under the king's rule for too long. But take a closer look." Lucina spread her arms to encompass the whole of her comrades. "You will find that none of us carry the sign of the Pheraen Empire. My name is Lucina, and we have entered your territory from Aurelis. The fact that the harbor stood in flames upon our departure should tell you enough about our motives."
The Lorca exchanged looks and hushed remarks. If they had cast their eyes east once during the past two days, they should have seen the smoke clouds swirling above the mountains. And if Lucina's assessment of the leader's character came remotely close to the truth, the sight had elicited a grim smile from him.
But not all of his companions shared his opinion on the matter. A man with long hair narrowed his eyes, eyes as deep and dark as a yawning cave and framed by stone features. He tightened his grip on the saber at his side.
"She is an enemy to us as she is an enemy to Pherae," he said. "And were there goes one, more are to follow. You know this, Rath. An enemy to the king is not welcome on Lorca grounds."
Rath, the leader, pulled the reins of his horse to make it buckle. "Your weak words shame you, Navarre. The Lorca do not answer to the king who burnt our tents!" He whirled around to Lucina. "You! Heir to Marth, I have heard of you and your victories over the eagle flag. Do the stories speak truth?"
Lucina nodded. "Yes. Me and my comrades wish to end the king's tyranny. For the wellbeing of Altea – and the Lorca."
Rath grinned. "You speak well, heir to Marth. You told me your name, so you will know mine. I am Rath of the Lorca, heir to no one. And I will share with you wine and bread as Lorca hospitality demands. So it will happen. Then you will have the opportunity to tell me more about your victories over the eagle flag."
"Gladly."
The three riders in Rath's shadow murmured, and Navarre first and foremost glared at the rebel party with open hostility. But after a moment, they all joined to say, "So it will happen."
Lucina smiled to herself as she followed Rath. The shadow of Roy's presence had lifted and the air found its way into her lungs more easily. Even Navarre's brewing disdain failed to dampen the energy of her strides. She had gained entrance into the heart of the Lorca. Now she only needed to win them over for her cause. Ike might have given her trouble before, but Rath's dream was easy to see and just as easy to use to her and the rebel's advantage.
And for a moment, while they marched towards the Lorca camp situated somewhere in Sacae's vast plain, the weight of the eyes on Lucina lifted.
Notes: Ah yes, the Lorca episode, the Sacea sidequest, the bane of my existence. I'm exaggerating, but I struggled with this part more than I like to remember. Some crucial things changed during editing, and Navarre now has pretty much the opposite role of what I first wanted to do with him. You'll see what I mean. Still, I do believe the changes benefit the overall story, both in terms of themes and Lucina's character. More on that in the next chapter.