The Tale of Hector
Whereas the grasslands of Sacae governed themselves by heat and the strength of a tribe's bow, Ostia basked in the spirit of Pherae. The principality throned by and atop the Ostella river, a bulwark against wild hunting squads and all other threats the desert might hurl against Pheraen walls. Once, villas of polished white and ochre stone had sprawled amidst the stretch of fertile land by the river. Crumbled corner pillars stood to remember those days, their tips scorched black as though Ostia had burned its fingers in its attempts to reach the sun.
Since then, huts of loam and thatched roofs had replaced the ruins. They hugged the riverside, stacked atop and below one another, and even perched on the countless bridges spanning the Ostella river.
Lucina rode across one such bridge, but she wouldn't have been able to tell except for the gurgle of water somewhere under the trodden street. Ostia thirsted for water, and no resident willingly picked a home farther than a few hundred yards from the river. All these precautions would do little against the approaching firewall once it tasted the orchard walls at the town border. Instead of sand gusts, ash from burned crops struck the weathered Pheraens on the bridge and clogged Lucina's nose. How much worse must the air taste for Rath and…
Lucina jutted her chin and exhaled this thought. Worrying would do little to help them. The firewall would best be stopped if they caught the mage working the spell. And for this, Lucina needed information. A silent prayer to Naga had given her no revelation. Instead, she needed Uther.
The aging marquess of Ostia called a residence on the other side of the town his own. A manmade branch of the Ostella river delivered water to the marquess and his entourage, in keeping with Pherae's great channels and even greater accomplishments in wall architecture. No one else would have dared to dig an entire moat into the dry grassland. The water encircled the residence like a spell circle against greedy spirits.
Although Ostia had reigned with Pherae's allowance for centuries, the walls of Uther's home hardly showed the cracks of twenty years of age.
Frederick had ridden ahead to announce Lucina's arrival. As such, Uther himself greeted Lucina when she entered the yard of his villa. Against his lavish ceremonial cape and the gold-trimmed armor, she felt the dust of her travel guise all the more. Nevertheless, he bowed to kiss her hand after she had dismounted.
He gave her a wide smile. "I thought His Highness might be requesting your aid when he departed for Altea."
Lucina needed a second to realize he was talking about Rath. "I hope I can repay him for all the times he stood by my side to aid me."
"A wonderful alliance. It makes one nostalgic, doesn't it? The bonds between Pherae, Ostia, and Sacae's wilderness were once of similar strength. I wish His Highness would do more to reforge this bond with Ostia. Are we not the beating heart that keeps the east of the Pheraen Empire – apologies, the Pheraen kingdom – alive?" Uther threw a wistful look at the banners hanging from his house front. On a field of red, the Pheraen eagle seized the golden ribbon of the Ostella river. "Ah, but how can I be of service to you, my lady? You wore a different crown the last time we spoke. And if my memory isn't playing tricks on me – you must excuse my age in this – you made an oath not to interfere with Pheraen matters again."
The critique didn't pass Lucina by unnoticed. Uther was the type of man to carry a grudge into the grave and a hundred years beyond, but he was not without reason. He might disapprove of her decision to follow Rath's request, but if her involvement saved Ostia's harvest from the fire, he would be the first to invite her back to Pherae's feasting tables.
"Your memory still exceeds that of men half your age," Lucina said with a smile. "Neither King Rath nor I have intentions to keep me here for long. Altea requires my quick return. You can help me with that, Uther. Any light you have to shed on the firewall will greatly improve our chances of success. I'm sure you would like to see the culprit responsible for this behind bars as soon as possible."
"Yes, yes, of course. But how about we delay this conversation until dinner?" Uther gestured at the ash flakes drifting from the darkened sky. "This is no place to talk."
Lucina tensed. Uther wanted to withhold his knowledge, assuming he had something of worth to say, for several hours. Ostia's outer fields barely had those hours. Rath and Ike certainly had not.
But if Lucina pressured Uther, he would bar his doors and his ears twice. She would have come here for nothing. She exchanged a look with Frederick, who tended to their horses. He straightened. Whatever order she gave, he would play along.
"Thank you," Lucina said. "I gladly accept the invitation."
"Wonderful, wonderful." Uther waved her forward. "Under different circumstances, I would have shown you around the garden. Ostia grows the largest and juiciest figs, you must know. In other lands, they call them gold figs because even seasoned traders struggle to measure their value in gold. Ah, but with this terrible weather, a chamber would be more appreciated. Maybe you want to change into something more… fitting too?"
"You are too kind."
Lucina followed Uther through the halls of his residence, but she had little enthusiasm to spare for the rich tapestries and golden vases with Pheraen history he showed her. Uther was one of the old guard, still reminiscing the days before Pherae's war with Altea, and he loved everything older than him. In a new Archanea ruled by young kings and queens, those things crossed his path on rare enough occasions, and so he stuffed every golden trinket and every rusty relic into his villa. Ash piled on the windowsills outside, but instead of advancing in her attempts to stop the firewall, Lucina couldn't shake the feeling of walking backwards in time.
The feeling intensified when Uther dropped off Frederick and her by the guest chamber. Old upholstery chairs crouched in front of tapestries with even older histories. And Uther all but trapped them in this past vortex until the call for dinner.
Lucina was far from pleased with the delay, and her fingers flipped through Marth's diary without aim. Frederick, however, was fuming.
"How can he keep you waiting like this?" he asked on his search through the tapestries and drawers for hidden assassins. "It is the peak of impoliteness."
Lucina closed the diary. "Remember, we were the ones who invaded his home. We can call ourselves fortunate that he didn't outright refuse us."
"But you are a queen! You were his queen for a while, and you conclude one of the oldest royal bloodlines in all of Archanea. That alone should guarantee you respect and servitude."
"Is that why you continue to fight as my general? Because my blood is worth more than that of others?"
The question carried no bitterness in Lucina's tone. Frederick stopped as though she had slapped him.
"I – of course not!" he said. "You are so much more than that. More than your crown and your title. Please, it was never in my intentions to slack off in my duties towards you. If I have given you this impression, you are free to discharge me. I should not have started the blacksmith apprenticeship, I—"
"Frederick," Lucina said with a smile. "The only favor I want you to do me right now is to sit down. I'm nervous enough without you pacing."
She patted on the sofa seat next to her. After a moment, Frederick accepted the offer.
"Remember when we went sliding on the frozen moat around Lycia's palace?" Lucina asked. "I had to drag you by the arm past the guards. I thought I was being very sneaky, but in my brilliant plan to defy Roy's wishes, I forgot my cape. You gave me yours. And you warned me not to go too far onto the ice, but of course I did anyway, and of course the ice broke, and I ruined your cape. You pulled me back to shore. That was the only time you ever called me stupid."
Frederick paled. "I did?"
"And I was stupid, and you were right to lecture me. Why can't we go back to that? Why must there always stand a crown between us?"
"I—" Frederick struggled to form words. After Lucina placed a hand on his, he continued. "It was inevitable. You are the queen, and with every year you stride for new heights. I cannot hope to keep up with you. A farrier's son doesn't stand on the same pedestal as a queen, and he never will. He can only be there should the queen ever fall."
"Frederick." Lucina squeezed his hand with a smile, choking on a tear. "Naga created a true miracle in you. No farrier's son deserves to stand on that pedestal more. But please look at me as I'm sitting here now. Without a crown, with a dusty tunic, and worried senseless as to what is to come. I want you to pull me back and call me stupid when I venture too far. Because right now, I can't tell."
"Your visit does violate the banishment you forced onto yourself. But your intentions to stop this ghastly firewall are nothing short of honorable."
"If only the firewall were our only problem."
Frederick understood her implication. "You should trust in Naga. She would not have tasked you with uniting the spheres if it were not doable for you. I hope."
Lucina gave him an ironic smile. "That's not quite the encouragement I wanted to hear."
"I apologize. Allow me to try again. You said you are worried?"
Lucina nodded.
"About Ike?"
"He doesn't want me to collect the spheres for Naga. He goes out of his way to help me, but I can tell he mistrusts my judgement. And what if he's right? What if this task is too far above me, what if I again corrupt my father's legacy like I did with the throne of the Pheraen Empire? What if I have to make sacrifices… and hesitate?"
"I cannot say where Naga's path takes you." Frederick enclosed Lucina's hand with his. "But whatever happens, I will stand beside you."
"Yes. I know." Lucina leaned her head against Frederick's shoulder. His steady breath tickled her hair. The tension of the journey and the stench of burned grass fell from her, and for the first time in a long while, she felt like she could sleep and not dream. "One day you have to show me the anvil you work with, old man. I want to see everything."
"I will," Frederick said. "When we're back home."
"Yes, when we're back home."
For a moment, it seemed easy; the Glass Fortress glittered in the sun of a peaceful afternoon to welcome them back. For a moment, Lucina didn't think about the Geosphere in her saddlebag or its three missing siblings somewhere out there in the world. Naga's task and the fate of Archanea burdened someone else's shoulders. After witnessing war and death and miracles, her eyelids were heavy. Just a moment…
Frederick nudged Lucina awake when a servant called them for dinner. She changed into a more representable tunic in record time, and after giving a minimum of attention to her hair, she marched towards the drawing room. Frederick followed half a step behind.
Uther welcomed them inside, but instead of the roasted pheasant and candied fig tower on the dinner table, Lucina's attention remained with the woman next to him.
"I believe I haven't introduced you yet?" Uther held a gentlemanly arm out for the woman. "This is Ursula, my most trusted advisor. When it comes to magic and the fine arts, I know no one her equal."
Ursula didn't offer Lucina a hand to shake. Her low-cut dress left little to the imagination, and she knew the effect her appearance had on men and a great deal of women alike. When she walked, she strode, and when she stood, she made for a most attractive addition to Uther's art collection. On first glance, one might mistake her for a city girl with looks and nothing else to offer. But above the hand she delicately raised to her chin, she assessed, and nothing, neither the crease in Lucina's tunic nor the lose indigo strand on Frederick's shoulder, escaped her dark eyes.
Something about Ursula struck a chord of remembrance with Lucina. The moment Uther had mentioned her name, her spine had tensed. But she couldn't place the memory. Most likely, she was reaching for an excuse to dislike the woman.
How silly. Lucina aimed for a genuine smile, ignored the strange glimmer in Ursula's eyes, and allowed Uther to guide her to her seat.
He paused halfway and regarded Frederick with a wrinkled frown. "We will have a lot to discuss. A lot that isn't meant for anyone's ears. Perhaps your… companion wants to wait outside?"
"If Frederick isn't invited to stay, neither will I," Lucina said.
"Of course, of course. I will have someone bring another chair."
They sat down, but apart from Uther, no one paid the pheasant particular attention. Ursula crunched a grape in the most deliberate way a grape could be crunched. Her eyes never left Lucina.
"We thought Rath would come himself," she said.
"King Rath," Frederick corrected on reflex before he realized who he was talking to.
Ursula smiled an unreadable smile. "I prefer to see people as who they are, not by their title."
"A terrible habit," Uther said and served himself another candied fig. "Archanea will soon be a house ruled by dogs and the insane when we start abandoning all manners of politeness. Invaluable history is being forgotten every day, did you know that? Every day some low peasant tosses a hundred-year-old scripture into the fire to keep his hut warm for another hour. Terrible, that."
Ursula still inspected Lucina with burning-iron eyes, probing for weaknesses. "I would very much like to speak with Rath. He promised to use more drastic tools to battle the firewall."
"He is inspecting the problem as we speak," Lucina said.
"Oh really? How fortunate. Then I assume he is aware that his hands and good intentions alone will hardly bring him closer to victory."
Lucina couldn't stand the look in Ursula's eyes for longer. A hunger directed Ursula's fingers across the rim of her plate, and the grapes were mere appetizers. Whether she hungered for her, Rath, or something else, Lucina wasn't sure.
"Uther, do you know anything about the firewall that could help us?" she asked.
"Little, precious little. The fire sparked in the grasslands one day and now intends to burn all of Ostia to the ground. You wouldn't have had those things under King Eliwood. He would have long sent his army to tackle the threat, with himself on the first line."
"This is what happens when a mage escapes the rules royalty placed on them," Ursula said. "For all their titles and bloodlines, royalty cannot hope to prevail against pure magic power."
"And you're certain this firewall was born from magic?" Lucina asked.
"I have no doubts. Its sight is most mesmerizing, wouldn't you agree?"
Lucina turned her attention to where the drawing room opened up to a terrace. Behind the closed lattice shutters, the sky glowed red. The heat already seemed to bleed indoors, and Lucina sipped from her wine. She couldn't show her unrest. Ursula would notice, if she hadn't already.
"There aren't many left who choose to study the magic arts," Lucina said in a dry throat.
"No wonder, after the Wizard War." Uther waved his fork about. "No one with half their wits assembled would let a mage into their home. And when King Roy marched against Altean monasteries, it only sped up the death of magic as an artform. War and destruction, that's all people see in mages these days. Invaluable knowledge, forgotten, I say!"
"I can call myself fortunate that you don't share in the masses' paranoia," Ursula said and threw Uther a rather sensual look.
"Is there a way to identify a magic user through their spell?" Frederick asked.
"Few people can read the patterns. All I can say about the firewall is that its magic is ancient and powerful. Countries could be subjugated by it." Ursula returned her attention towards Lucina. "But you are already familiar with ancient magic, aren't you?"
Lucina forced her wine cup to her lips. The liquid swapped, too loud. "What makes you say that?"
"They call you Naga's champion. Rumor has it her magic has saved you from certain death more than once."
"You believe the firewall has something to do with Naga?"
Ursula smiled. "Who can say? I'm merely attempting to read the patterns."
Lucina turned the winecup in her hands. A theory that up until this point had existed only as a whisper in the back of her head took shape. The firewall dwarfed all other displays of magic Lucina had come across during her travels; even Roy's Binding Blade paled in comparison. But they shared similarities. Patterns. Perhaps a powerful mage could summon the firewall by themselves. But what if they fueled their spell with one of the spheres? Three were still missing. Hadn't Naga advised Lucina to look in the east? Had she not shuddered with a ghost of Grima's presence when the smoke of the firewall had plastered her nose for the first time?
If Rath and Ike rode out against someone with the power of Naga's spheres, they were in greater danger than ever.
"I wish we had more information to share with you," Uther said and cut through Lucina's thoughts. "It would be in all our best interest if this nightmare ended soon and preferably before it ravages all our crops."
"But the firewall is hardly the only reason why you left your fortress in the south, is it?" Ursula asked. "You are searching for something."
"Isn't everyone?" Lucina countered. But she couldn't deny the cold creeping up her arms.
"Certainly. But I reckon the search of Naga's champion would be more interesting than that of other people."
Frederick straightened in his chair. "If you are trying to pry out Altean secrets for Ostia's benefit over a dinner table, you will be sorely disappointed."
Lucina gestured Frederick to back down, but his interruption gave her the chance to package the answer to Ursula's query into a question of her own. Because, although Lucina hated to admit this, Ursula knew more about magic than anyone in the Glass Fortress. Combined with Uther's passion for old tales, perhaps this dinner table could indeed bring Lucina closer to the missing spheres. Cautious, now. She couldn't allow herself to reveal too much. Even Rath had struggled against the Lifesphere's tempting shimmer.
"Uther, your keen eye for valuable artifacts is known even in Altea," Lucina said. "I just recently learned about stones used in old Naga rituals, and I was wondering if perhaps your collection includes one of them. For you, who has no ties to Naga, the stones would be of little use, pretty-looking gems, really."
Uther stopped his fork halfway to his mouth. The bite of roasted pheasant wandered back to his plate. "Pretty-looking gems, you say. Ha! One of those pretty-looking gems razed half of Ostia once. Of course, you can't know that, young that you are. Fortunate are the young but also dumb, terribly dumb. Your Highness, with all due respect, you shouldn't trifle with Naga's five divine spheres."
Lucina bit her lip. She had underestimated Uther. He knew of the spheres' nature. For the moment, he believed Lucina had fallen victim to youthful devotion to her religion, but Ursula wasn't so easily fooled. Her unreadable smile dug an inch deeper in her cheeks.
"Oh really?" Lucina asked. "I didn't know that. You must excuse me my curiosity, Uther. I read about Naga's stones in my father's diary, and I have been so fascinated by his tales. It felt to me like a window into the past, and all I want is to keep looking."
"Never excuse yourself for curiosity about the past," Uther said with a pleased grunt. "It should be encouraged! But Naga's spheres are not a story for most ears. My brother was infatuated with their power. Precious little is what his fascination earned him, precious little. And he almost doomed Ostia in the process."
"You cannot possibly be talking about Hector," Frederick said and pushed his mug aside as though its contents had turned to salt water. "Even the people in Altea recognized him as a model knight."
"Of course, of course, he was unmatched with the axe and a true friend to King Eliwood. But even after forty years in this wartorn world, my little brother was still young at heart, and he was dumb. To think that he wanted to defeat the Black Knight all by himself. Ha! Well, his wife and daughter paid the price. And so did he, not long after."
Lucina suppressed a chill. "What happened?"
"It must have been almost twenty-five years ago by now," Uther said and drummed his fork on the plate. "I often travelled Archanea at the time. The marquess seat was utterly revolting to me. How is a man supposed to see and learn the world's secrets when he is bound to a chair at all times? My little brother was perfectly content with governing Ostia in my stead. He still got to ride out with King Eliwood to a war against the northern folk and to tournaments all across the nation. Always happy to brandish his axe. I don't see the point in carrying a weapon, you should know. Words control men, not the crude metal they swing around."
"So Hector found one of the spheres during his exploits with Eliwood?" Lucina asked.
"Likely so. One day he rides towards the newly founded dutchy of Leonster, and the next he returns with a gemstone and the megalomaniacal idea of slaying the Black Knight. Lord Leif must have put that thought in his head, I say, always spinning stories in your head until you can't tell left from right anymore, that man."
"Hector intended to use the sphere for good," Frederick said. "Like a true knight."
"And what a sphere that was. The purest white you ever did see, a small sun plucked from the sky and placed into Hectors hand. He and his wife both tried to draw out the sphere's true might. But Naga's power comes at a terrible price. When the sphere awoke, it manifested into a dragon, taller and more dreadful than any of the tales we still have from the Scouring. At first you might have thought you were witnessing a miracle, this heavenly creature with scales of pure light. How blind were we. My words can't do it justice, but its horrific roars, this bell-like sound – I will never forget. The dragon killed Hector's wife and daughter. Or maybe I should say it consumed them. All he could do was evacuate the town and watch as the dragon burned the villa and every last trace of his wife and daughter to ashes.
"Few weapons can kill dragons. I know of only three, and I have come to believe one of them is a myth. Armads, Hector's axe, was certainly none of them. King Eliwood led his army to Ostia when he heard the news. King Marth was supposed to join them against the shared enemy. He, unlike the others, had a dragon-killing sword."
Lucina reached for her sword's pommel. "Falchion."
Uther nodded. "But Marth delayed. Help did not arrive from the south in time. What was my poor brother to do but fight the dragon before it smashed the last hut in Ostia? And what was King Eliwood to do but follow his friend into the jaws of death? Hector swung Armads until his last breath. In fire and ruins, he fought against the dragon of his own creation. But nothing could dent the dragon's scales. Iron will and even the best weapon forged by human hand could not prevail against the manifested power of the sun. By the time King Eliwood arrived, Hector was already dead.
"Valiantly fought the king of Pherae. Durandal failed to break the dragon's scales just as Armads did before. Still King Eliwood lifted his sword against the murderer of his friend. With cunning, he managed to deflect a burst of fire back at the enemy. The dragon felt the sting then. For the first time, it realized its mortality. Mad with pain and bloodlust, it carried King Eliwood in its claws towards a mountain in the east. They continued their duel, and people say a greater fight between man and beast has never been fought. The mountain is still called King's Plight."
"Roy would never tell me the story of King's Plight," Lucina said, more to herself than Uther.
Eliwood had fought with a dragon for the sake of his friend; there was no tyranny in his actions, none of the hatred that had later driven him to order the assassination of Marth's wife. Naga described Eliwood as Grima's puppet. But in the tale Uther laid out for her, Lucina failed to find the strings.
"Marth arrived three days after the fixed time," Uther continued. "When he lifted the bare steel of Falchion over his head, the dragon fled in fear. In its claws, it still carried Armads. My brother wasn't avenged. His axe was never retrieved. And not enough of his family remained for the pyre. Hector's tale should show you, Your Highness, what happens to those who fantasize about Naga's power."
Lucina had set her wine cup aside. Those who fantasize about Naga's power, those who reach too far and dig too deep… Hector had paid. Marth had paid with the death of his wife and the fall of his kingdom. Even Roy, who had unknowingly used the Lifesphere to rule his empire, had paid. Before Lucina could land the final blow, his own fire had consumed him. But Naga herself had entrusted the gathering of the spheres to Lucina. She was the goddess' champion, she didn't intend this power for herself. Did that not make her an exception?
Lucina exchanged a glance with Frederick. She waited for him to pull her back and call her stupid. But he did not.
And so, Lucina dug deeper.
"Has the dragon been seen since its fight with Eliwood?" she asked.
Uther bit into a candied fig. Fruit juice ran down his chin. "It raided Ostia's smaller villages for a few years afterwards. In search for gold pure enough to match its scales, I would guess. One hardly dares to imagine the historic artifacts that were lost. And it left the world a little dumber in the process."
"Where is the dragon now?"
"Sleeping, I reckon, on its pile of gold somewhere in the eastern mountains."
"Lucina, with the aid of Falchion, you could kill the creature and do justice to Hector's memory," Frederick said.
And win the Lightsphere from the dragon.
"Would you give me your blessing to slay the dragon?" Lucina asked Uther. "Ostia would finally be free from its tyranny. Perhaps, if they are connected, the firewall will also vanish when the dragon's magic influence dies."
"I would rather not toy with these divine powers. What would you advise me, Ursula? You have been awfully quiet."
Ursula's unreadable smile had disappeared. Her narrowed eyes pierced Lucina. "This is ancient magic. An amateur shouldn't dabble in workings they don't understand."
"Do you hear that? Your Highness, you would do us a far greater service if you turned your efforts on stopping this dreadful fire instead."
Lucina played her final trump card. "Then you don't want to see the thunder axe Armads returned to the treasury of your house?"
The fruit juice dropped from Uther's chin. He licked his lips. "Armads' value cannot be measured in gold. It's a weapon of legends. The number of stories tied to its steel…"
Lucina allowed herself an inward smile. A small checkmate in this long, divine game.
"I of course understand if you don't want to endanger your people any further," she said and shoved her plate away in pretense of leaving. "You have honored us with your hospitality and the stories you shared with us. Perhaps we will meet again at another occasion?"
"Wait!" Uther half scrambled out of his seat. When Lucina made no more moves to leave, he continued. "Perhaps I didn't express myself well before. Ostia and I would be most grateful to you if you delivered us from the dragon. And restore Hector's memory by returning his axe to his family."
"Of course," Lucina said with a smile. Uther relaxed back into his chair. "I will gladly wield Falchion against the dragon, also to make up for my father's failed promise to Hector."
"I urge you to reconsider," Ursula said. She had already cut her piece of pheasant meat into tiny pieces but still held onto the knife. "For your own sake."
Uther waved a servant girl from the shadows of the room to refill his cup for a toast. She hardly had the chance to retreat to the side before he waved the drink about. "You are so pessimistic, Ursula. Don't you see that this is a unique opportunity? Imagine, Armads displayed over there by the mantlepiece…"
"Perhaps we should then use the last hour of sunlight to depart," Lucina said. "I imagine the sooner we face the dragon, the better. Frederick?"
Frederick stood up. "I follow your lead."
"When you reach the foot of King's Plight, turn south," Uther said. "Near Caelin was the dragon last seen. You have my word that no one in Ostia will hinder your travels. Now go, and revive the legends of the dragon-slaying days!"
Lucina nodded, joined Frederick. She might have drunk one wine cup too many; an alarmed windchime rung in her ears. Outside raged the fire.
Ursula sighed. "Dear Uther. I wish you hadn't said that just now."
She leaned over as if to kiss Uther. And before Lucina even realized what was happening, Ursula rammed her pheasant knife into his throat. He gargled. The fig juice on his chin turned crimson.
Then he dropped out of his chair, dead before he hit the floor.
A scream erupted from the servant girl, a decanter shattered, and she fled through a side door. In the same breath, Frederick shifted in front of Lucina, blocked her view on the terrible red puddle expanding towards the table legs, and drew his sword.
Ursula rose from her chair. With a smile, she swiped a drop of blood from her cheek. "I warned you. You shouldn't play around with magic you don't understand. All this would have been so much easier if you had sent Rath instead."
"Guards!" Frederick shouted.
From far away in the residence, the clatter of hastily collected spears answers.
"Tsk, what a sore loser you are," Ursula said. "But I should have seen it coming. Royals always hide behind their guards."
And in that moment, Lucina remembered where she had heard Ursula's name before. In a hut covered by snow and frozen lichen. The name had passed Lloyd's lips like a curse, mocking but nonetheless frightened. Ursula, the witch. The leader of the Black Fang.
The realization came too late.
Ursula snapped her fingers, and a gigantic wolf manifested into the room, icy blue, with fur and fangs and claws shaped by sheer magic. But no less deadly.
The table tipped over, candied figs rolled in all directions, and the pounding of armored boots grew louder. Too little, too late.
Lucina didn't have a clear path to Ursula; the wolf blocked her. It growled, plates snapped under its paws, and Frederick's shoulder tensed next to hers. He understood without orders. He would distract the wolf and buy her the opening, and maybe they could hold out long enough for the guards to arrive.
Frederick charged left, Lucina darted right. The wolf bought into the bait.
Ursula didn't.
A small sun erupted out of Ursula's hand, the air Lucina pulled in boiled, she choked, and only a roll for the heavy table protected her from being burned alive. The heat still ate through the wood, clawed at her forearms. A stench of oil clashed with roasted pheasant.
In that moment, a quartet of Uther's guards crashed through the door. The dead body of their lord told them all they needed to know. They advanced in perfect formation, a trained unit to match even the famed Pegasus Knights of Talys, and Lucina allowed herself a long breath.
She regretted it no second later.
The guards' form was perfect, their halberds well kept, and the steel tips flashed in unison – but against Ursula, they were powerless. Her magic cooked their blood right through their armor before a single one of them reached striking distance. Lucina had fought a handful of mages under Roy's tutelage, but nothing like this. The fire Ursula summoned was worthy of the gods.
Lucina needed to stop her all the more. Although flakes of ashen skin swirled all across the room, she abandoned her cover to engage Ursula.
"I would love to continue this little show," Ursula said and turned towards the terrace. "But I have an appointment with a different royal. He has something I have tried to obtain for too many years."
One wave of her hand, and the latticed shutters burst aside, splinters raining. Lucina sprinted after her. She only managed a few steps before something crashed into her side, and the stench of oil stole her breath away. Her shoulder struck the floor, hard, and tears clouded her vision. The wolf grabbed her by the cape. Fangs and a slow death brushed her cheek, close enough to taste.
She fumbled for Falchion, boots kicking. Useless, all useless.
The wolf shook her, and consciousness slipped from her fingers. A crash, support pillars breaking. The second impact brought her back to her body and the splinters of a shutter digging into her side. Above her burned the clouds.
She forced herself to her knees. She wanted to at least look death in the eye when it took her.
The wolf tensed for the leap.
Frederick tackled the creature from the side, his sword aimed to sever its head. For a moment, it looked like he would make it.
The wolf bit and, with one snap of its jaws, shattered Frederick's sword. Unarmed, he stumbled backwards, inches from the claws, claws like ragged Black Fang daggers. The second bite ripped a piece of flesh out of Frederick's thigh, larger than a wyvern egg. He dropped to one knee.
Lucina limped to his side, reached for him.
And then the house front came tumbling towards them.
Darkness.
Darkness and, faintly, a ringing in her ears.
Lucina gagged on dust. She couldn't feel her leg. Somewhere, as if on the other end of the grassland, the wolf growled. And right next to her, Frederick moaned.
She tried to crawl, but couldn't; her leg was wrenched under the rubble. Every breath filled her mouth with the taste of blood. Desperate, hopeless against the pressure on her leg, she blinked the dust out of her eyes.
Frederick's face hovered a breath away. He trembled. With one arm, he supported the piece of the wall that had fallen onto them, leaving just enough space for Lucina to breathe. And with the other hand he tried to keep the wolf at bay. It stood on top of the rubble. Its jaws were locked around Frederick's arm. Blood seeped past the armor plates and splashed onto Lucina's face.
She choked on dust, tried to crawl, claw herself free, somehow find a way to draw Falchion and kill the wolf. Her leg ached. But it didn't budge.
"Frederick, I can't move." Breathlessness drove the tears into Lucina's eyes. "I can't…"
Pain twisted his face. He mouthed something she couldn't understand. It sounded like an apology.
From where he drew his strength, Lucina didn't know. Steel plates shattered, and flesh tore open. But suddenly the rubble lifted, and she was free.
She rolled over, just as Frederick's strength collapsed, and freed Falchion. The steel reflected the blue light of the wolf. With a scream, she lunged forward and drove Falchion into the creature's chest, all the way to the hilt.
It let go of Frederick's arm. Then it dissolved, and the night swallowed the last of its light.
Lucina dropped to her knees. Her chest was heaving. Slowly, the feeling returned to her leg, and with it came the joy of being alive. The air tasted of ash, but it was air nonetheless. They had made it. Ursula had disappeared without a trace, but they had made it. As soon as Lucina caught her breath, they could give chase.
"Frederick?"
She crawled over to him. The piece of rubble lay square over his chest. She tried to lift it but didn't manage more than a few inches.
"Frederick, you have to help me with this, I can't do it alone."
Lucina shook his right arm. Her knees slipped on something wet.
"Frederick?"
The wolf had torn his other arm to the bone. It was his blood Lucina had slipped on.
She shook him again, bent over him to brush the dust from his face, begged him to help her lift the rubble, screamed confused orders at him; but his wide eyes would never see her.
Frederick was dead.
Notes: I'm just gonna pretend I delayed the update by a day because I wanted Frederick to live longer. Some of you must have anticipated his death as far back as Book I, and now, it has happened. If you will excuse me, I'm gonna go and cry because he deserved better than to be a chess piece of my cruelty.