Leave-Taking
One part of Ike wanted to ride to Thria alone. Lucina had denied him the chance to face the tyrant king last time, and Ike still had a score to settle with the royal redhead. Ragnell pressed against his back on his way through the palace halls and rattled with bloodthirst.
But the other part of Ike knew Roy wouldn't face him in a one on one, sword against sword. Kings loved nothing more than to command people, and by now the entirety of Thria would trample over one another in their attempts to follow Roy's sick orders. Ike would have to plow through the entire village population before he could lock swords with the real enemy. That thought offered its own kind of temptation; if the Pheraen morons still kissed Roy's feet, they didn't deserve any better. Unfortunately, a bloodbath wouldn't solve Ike's problems, not if he intended to make it back to the capital in one piece.
So, Ike did what he hated. He assembled his comrades.
The military quarters, a wing filled with plain barracks on the far side of the palace, had adopted the silence of a grave now that the snowstorm no longer attacked the capital. The majority of soldiers hung around in the yard or at the docks. Too bad the offensive they waited for wouldn't happen.
At the door to Soren's room, Ike stopped for maybe a heartbeat before he barged in. The spartan room possessed about as much personality as Ike's current quarter; an armful of spell books cowered on the shelf to fend off the miserableness of the barren walls.
No surprise there. Soldiers came and went faster than those nasty, divine hailstorms, and Ike for one had moved into a new room each time his missions led him back to the capital. A bag stood ready at the foot of the bed at all times. Personal knick-knacks only got in the way.
Soren sat on the windowsill and let the winter cold invade the room. Dry leaves twirled above his outstretched hand. When Ike marched through the door, his focus broke, and the leaves sailed down into the yard.
Soren furrowed and closed the spell book in his lap. "You are not one to make visits for the sake of courtesy. As you can see, I am not dying, so please do me the favor and take your awfully serious face elsewhere."
"Look who's in a good mood today," Ike said. "And after you almost dropped dead in the conference room no less. Good to know you're still alive and kicking."
"I'm afraid kicking is an activity that requires an individual's control over their legs. And it seems I have been lacking in this regard recently." Soren's hollow smile didn't make it to his eyes before a pang rocked his body and he clutched his injured leg. "I have always despised horse-riding, did you know that?"
"You mentioned it a few times. But I bet this time you're just grumpy because you had to stand Virion's company all the way from Thria to here."
"Perhaps. Although I cannot claim to find any more enjoyment in the company of a brick-head such as yourself." Soren shifted on the windowsill and bit back a groan with visible effort. "That is your sign to leave. Go, I have a book to finish."
Ike plucked the ancient tome from Soren's lap. "You've read this one three times already. But you'll get your wish soon enough. We're heading out today."
"To fight Roy." It wasn't a question.
"Pretty much," Ike said. "Lucina isn't coming, so this'll be almost like our rebel operations from before. Titania's on board already. And before you ask, yes, I made sure to add a healer to our party this time."
A nostalgic smile flashed across Soren's face. "I appreciate the thought. Maybe you are growing into an excellent general after all."
Ike ground his teeth. A headache was on its way to pester him, and the slight tug between his eyebrows almost convinced him to drop the words on his tongue. He hated this part.
"I want you to come with us," Ike finally said.
"Because I have been of such excellent use lately? Please, flattery has never fitted you. You have asked me for the sake of politeness, now let us move on from this folly to discuss who could truly be of use to you in this operation."
"And then I just let you wallow in your misery? You wish."
"You call it misery, I call it an attempt to improve the odds of my life expectancy. Against Roy, I will be of no use to you."
"I'm not asking you to march in the front line. Just add a sprinkle of your magic to the battlefield from afar. You aren't telling me you're afraid, are you?"
"Yes, I am afraid. And maybe you should be too. I do not seek to throw my life away, not after you saved me from the fire."
"That was years ago."
"Then why is the memory so persistent?" Soren gestured at the tome in Ike's hand. "You are right, I have read this book before. But the first time I did was in the dusty library of the monastery. When reading these lines, I have the voices of the other mages in my head as they discussed spells one isle further. When one of us practiced wind magic in the orchard, the aroma of thyme and apple blossoms always wafted into the library. And yet, that is not the smell I remember the most. I know it was there, but I cannot grasp it.
"By contrast, I can grasp the ending all too well. When everyone else died. I still smell their scorched skin, their ash as it clogged my nose. And I still smell the smoke that consumed them all. By the laws of probability, the same fate should have overtaken me. Yet here I still am. Is it wrong to hold onto this last piece of the monastery when the only thing I can do for them is live?"
Ike swallowed. They had both grown older since the burning monastery. But he too could recall the smoke and the ash plastered all across Soren's face. His expression now mirrored the one he had worn back then.
"That has never stopped you before," Ike said.
Soren gestured at his leg. "And look where it landed me. I apologize, Ike. I do not have your strength."
"Quit that nonsense."
"But it is true. In Thria, I had the opportunity to kill Roy. I wanted to do it, I wanted to drown out the smell of my mage brothers' ash with his blood. Yet I failed. The one time I truly desired the aid of the wind, I failed to use it."
"Then come with me to Thria and make it right."
Soren shook his head. "I told you, I do not have that strength. Not anymore."
"Fine, if that's what you need to hear, then let me make this clear: I want you to come with me to Thria for the simple, selfish reason that I trust you more than the hundred Pheraen soldiers down there in the yard. This could be a suicide mission, you're right about that. So, I at least want to know that someone is watching my back."
Soren slid from the windowsill with some difficulty. He took the book from Ike and placed it into his bag. He limped to the shelf, and still Ike couldn't bring himself to help him.
"If you had told me this a year ago, I would have been overjoyed." Soren emptied his shelf. "I would have followed you to the ends of the world. But now you would always outrun me."
"Stop that. Put those back." Ike, in a fit of childish helplessness, dragged Soren's spellcasting tome out of the bag and placed it back on the shelf. "When I'm done with Roy, I'll get you to a healer. A better one. Someone who can fix that stupid leg."
Soren stuffed his other books into the bag and tightened the rope. After he had shouldered the load, he regarded Ike with a sad smile.
"You cannot pull me from the fire this time, Ike," he said. "I'm already burning."
He limped to the door. Not a single breeze swept through the open window, but Ike still shuddered from the cold. Dumbfounded, he watched Soren fight his way through the doorframe.
"Where are you going?" Ike asked.
"I'm walking away from your war. While I still can walk." Soren did not halt. "You can keep the book on the shelf. After all, I have read it three times already."
His uneven steps echoed in the hall. It would be so easy for Ike to catch up to him. But he didn't move. Until at last the sound of Soren's boots died away and only the wind howled to mourn his absence.
An hour later, twenty horses scraped the snow of the courtyard, ready to head out. Their heavy breaths misted into clouds, but they fizzled out even faster than the motivation of the riders.
Ike fastened his saddlebags with mechanical movements. Oh, things were going splendidly. In a few days, he would bury Ragnell into Roy's chest all the way to the hilt. Or he could cut off his head. Or sever a few tendons in the king's leg so that he would have to limp back to Johtran. A cripple whose uneven steps echoed on the hall.
Ike tore at the girth, and his horse shied. Everything. Was. Great.
"You are helping neither yourself nor the rest of your party," Titania said. The motherly concern flowed from her face when she directed her horse next to Ike's. "Nephenee is already looking at you."
Ike spared a second to confirm Nephenee's troubled expression for himself. She was clutching her spear, and the anxiety over the upcoming battle carved deep lines into her face. To be fair, Ike's assault on his saddlebags probably wasn't helping.
"I'll be good by the time we get to Thria," he said.
Titania countered his tone with her endless calm. "I know, you will bottle your anger up and then release it against the first unlucky Pheraen who will cross your path to Roy. But maybe it would be better for you to talk to someone. At least once in your life."
"I just got done talking to someone. It didn't go too well."
"Ike, you know Soren didn't leave because of you." Titania took the reins of Ike's horse to spare the animal from his rage-fueled preparations. "Nothing you could have said would have made him stay. For the longest time, we thought we could start a new life once Roy was removed from the throne, a life without fighting. Don't you think Soren deserves this?"
"Well, you still haven't adopted a cat, and I still haven't seen Tellius from up close. We don't get what we want. No matter if we deserve it or not. All he did was take the coward's way out."
"You do not truly believe that."
"Maybe I do." Ike ripped the reins from Titania's hand. "For all I care, he's dead."
Titania stepped back in line with the other riders. What else was there to say? She would play her part in the upcoming battle and so would Ike. No need to dwell.
No need to talk.
Ike adjusted his new cape, a horrible thing of red wool that had come packaged with his general title. Maybe he should give his unit a motivational speech, something equal parts stupid and heroic about ending the tyranny once and for all, and that they would all be back to enjoy true peace in a week. On second thought, maybe not. No executioner had entered Archanea's history books for their words, whether they wore a pretty cape or not.
His party knew the drill. Rath pulled Jeorge into a hug and wished him a good hunt. Nephenee had revived her breathing exercise, and only a few paces away, Titania tickled her horse between its ears, ready for Ike's order. Now was as good a time as any to disappear.
But Ike didn't get away that easily. Before he had a chance to mount, Lucina hurried down the steps to the palace entrance, flanked by Frederick and Tiki. She examined Ike's face in breathless silence for a moment longer than necessary.
"I'm sorry about Soren," she said then.
"It was his choice. I have other fighters who will do his job."
Based on the look Lucina gave Ike, she didn't believe a word. "Can't I convince you to stay?" she asked. "We will figure something out. Something that doesn't require you to ride out like this, now that he has had so much time to prepare a trap."
"Roy needs to be stopped sooner, not later. You know that as well as I do."
Lucina nodded with visible reluctance. "Then let me at least give you this."
She reached around her neck and pulled a pendant out of her tunic. Chain links of finest silver shimmered between her fingers and led to the jewelry's heart: a tear-shaped emerald. The silver curled around the stone like threads holding the world together. The item had to cost more than small countries; even the crown on Lucina's head looked cheap by comparison.
"A bit luxurious for my style, don't you think?" Ike made no moves to take the pendant from Lucina.
"It contains a tear from Tiki," she said. "She intended it for me, but I want you to have it."
Tiki bounced on her heels and nodded at Ike. "A true blessing from Naga sleeps in this pendant. I think it's wasted on such a faithless man, but Lucina wouldn't listen. The tear will protect the one who carries it from death. But only once. And only if Naga is with them."
"Meaning I'm just about the last person fit to carry it. I'm feeling so much safer already."
"Please, Ike." Lucina stretched the pendant towards him. "Just take it. For me."
Ike believed in lucky charms about as much as he believed in the benevolence of gods. But Lucina clung to the pendant's spell like a lifeline. Ike's lifeline.
She pleaded, soundlessly.
Great. He had stooped so low that she didn't even need words to order him around anymore. With an inward curse, Ike took the pendant from Lucina and hung it around his neck. The cool silver caressed his skin.
Lucina released a breath and smiled. "Thank you."
Ike escaped the pull of her eyes by swinging himself into the saddle. He needed to get a move on. Otherwise he might second-guess his role in her little play of gods and queens.
"Don't run the Empire to the ground while I'm gone," he said.
"Promise."
Ike wheeled his horse around, and upon a gesture of his, the twenty riders set out. Slow and careless was the clatter of hooves on the cobble. A frantic chase would only raise suspicions among the guards on top of the gate arch and the civilians trudging through the streets beyond. The last thing the Pheraen crowd to the right needed was another reason to doubt the competence of Lucina's military. Ike would push his horse to its limits soon enough, beyond the town borders where the invisible fires roared to celebrate Roy's return. Or to announce the end of the current reign. Who could say?
Underneath the archway, Frederick caught up with Ike. Despite his heavy armor, he possessed quite the brisk pace. Ike slowed his horse, confident he would catch up to Titania and the others before they reached the outer moat.
"Don't die," Frederick said and shot a look over his shoulder. "She worries too much already."
Ike huffed. "And here I thought for a second you might be concerned about me."
"I don't see how this is a laughing matter. She cares about you… more than she perhaps realizes."
"Well, that was her first mistake."
Ike clicked his tongue and ordered his horse into a dash for the city gates until Frederick had vanished from view and earshot. Only then did Ike release a curse. He didn't want to think about Lucina, Soren, or anyone else. Only the next battle mattered. Swinging Ragnell, relieving dumb Pheraens with too big an ego of their heads, he was good at that. He lived for that. And personal knick-knacks like friendships and affections only got in the way.
Notes: I'm doing Soren a favor here. Some heads must roll in this story, and I had to save him from my own bloodlust for at least a little longer. I have other plans for him. The confrontation with Roy is drawing closer. But in the next chapter, Lucina will first set out to find a new ally while Rath finds an old enemy instead.