*Untold Despair (Tales of Symphonia OST)
**Deepspring Sanctum (Brandon and Derek Fietcher)
***The Mining Town (Tales of the Abyss OST)
****Ganon's Message [Arranged] (The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past OST)
*It was not surprising that everyone from the Flame Tribe they'd encountered, including Candace's travel companion, were rather on edge when traveling through territory occupied by the Nohrians. In spite of their previous obligations, Daisen had been recalled by the chief's shadow to help train more warriors for the conflict, while his beloved twin sister continued to keep an eye on the portly rogue and see that she completed her obligation without betraying their trust.
Of course, being a woman and a "savage" put particular constraints on Hakone, no weak wallflower herself, as far as their ease of travel was concerned. The Hoshidans, as hospitable as they were usually known to be, were figuratively (and often literally) fighting for their very lives, so said hospitality could not be relied upon. While she'd never been religious in the slightest, as selfish as she knew it may have been, Candace thanked the gods every night that she had been born as one of the Nohrians' "brother peoples," for all the good it would do.
But something about this particular "ranch" in the central plains of Hoshido, left Candace particularly fascinated- revolted, but oddly fascinated nonetheless. "What are you looking so intently at?" inquired Hakone irritably.
Candace grimaced. "You really wanna know?" she inquired, letting the spyglass dangle in her grip. "You sure about that?"
"I'm a big girl, I can take it."
"But even so-"
Returning to her observation, Candace winced at the sight; it was not so much that Rose, probably the most enigmatic of King Leonard's Four Horsemen, was disposing of those poor Hoshidan bastards with her axe- it was more that she was reducing them to some flesh-and-blood colored mass of bloody tissue and muscle. Talk about overkill, she thought grimly. "I noticed a couple of weird things about this Rose woman." she said at last, the spyglass turning to the bent, pallid man about fifty paces afield of her, gleefully scribbling notes. "Even through all that armor, does her body language seem kinda...familiar to you at all? Especially how she holds and swings her axe? Almost like her instincts are tellin' her to do something completely different."
Finally taking up Candace on her offer with the spyglass, Hakone winced at the bloody scene the rogue had attempted to warn her about. Nonetheless, there was something rather odd about Rose's movements- especially her flourish of her axe. "Now that you mention it," she remarked. "yeah, I do see it."
"And that's not all I see either. See that weird guy? That creep scribbling notes with that grin on his face? Pretty much wherever Rose goes, he is. There's gotta be a connection there! There's just gotta! The fact that he sulks around these 'ranches' so much is only making me even more suspicious."
"But what can you really do about it though? It's not like you just waltz up to the Nohrians and ask to see proof of why."
"I know. Godsdamnit."
Even so, Candace was still under contract by the gentle princess and her swordswoman. She'd no way of proving it, but every instinct of hers told her that she was, frustratingly enough, on the edge of a breakthrough. And she KNEW it was connected to that eerie little man hunched over his notes, grinning in glee at Rose's abuse of the ranch's prisoners.*
**Despite the harshness of the winter and the chill of early spring, once the last vestiges of frost in the northern foothills had retreated, they were quite pleasant until autumn neared its end. It was for this reason that Hadrian had always been an individual fond (at least until the downpours common to the summer months) of the outdoors, and the outdoors in his country in particular. Whether in his longtime vocation as the Ice Tribe's war chief or his hobby of woodworking, Hadrian could often be found either strolling about the town, or, much like today, working on some project or another sitting outside his own home.
"-and he's a bit arrogant, sure," resumed Klima. "but that Bela is still a good lad, to be certain. But these rumors about him coming from the east...they trouble me."
"One can never have too much information." Hadrian remarked disarmingly.
"Still, rumors is all they are, probably. I just pray that Flora keeps that one on the short leash he needs. The last thing we need is that protege of yours stirring up more young hotheads against the Nohrians."
Hadrian bristled inwardly. "If you say so, my friend. Give my regards to Flora when you see her."
As he watched his oldest friend walk away, the old warrior scoffed. He loved the man like a brother, but he could not understand how the young charmer kept pulling the wool over his eyes. In his experience, Bela had always been an evil little bastard ever since he'd been eight, when threw his woodworking tools into the river and semi-successfully blamed Florian for the deed. Needless to say, he was a bit more discerning than Kilma concerning Bela's true nature- despite the chief's suspicion of his apprentice Florian, he knew fully well which of the youths was the greater danger to their nation's future. And this would only be reinforced once another of his subordinates arrived.
"Sir Hadrian!" exclaimed Varius breathlessly.
Looking up from his project, Hadrian's expression softened somewhat. "At ease, Varius." he replied. "What seems to be the problem?"
"Lady Flora bade me to deliver this letter to you. Your eyes only, sir!"
Hadrian felt his heart drop into his stomach at this news. Given that it was a letter sent directly to him by courier from his "niece" and going over her father's head, there was no possible way that this could be good news. Producing the letter from a compartment inside his vest, Varius handed over the paper to his superior. Glancing over the paper did little to improve his mood. "I see..." he said at last. "Varius. Listen to me and listen to me very carefully."
"Yes, sir! What is it?"
"Go to the sanctuary temple- start gathering up stores of weapons, food, water, supplies. Especially anything that can be used to fortify our positions."
"At once, sir!"
"Send your most trusted men to go around to all of our towns, villages, and strongholds. Tell them to do the same."
Having scanned the letter's contents and Flora's report of goings-on in the world, the only things truly left for the old warrior were to wait and pray to the gods. Like a boulder rolling down a hill, the events had been set in motion and he was helpless to do anything save for prepare their contingency plans. But what sat the worst with Hadrian? It did not bother him so much that his life would likely be forfeit- he was an old man, after all. The worst part was that the man who had been like a brother to him- necessarily- would have to die. And if he was conflicted, Hadrian could only imagine how terrible Flora must have felt.**
In spite of his lady's choices and how much he tried to convince (or lie to) himself that the situation was truly not as bad as it seemed, Kaze always hated dealing with Nohrian officers. While he had little choice seeing as he was more or less an outlaw to the country of his birth, the fact remained that even with Corrine's custom crest and signed letters legitimizing his mission, officer and common soldier made alike made it exceptionally clear that his presence was a barely-tolerated nuisance at the very best- a pollutant, more realistically, even to the point of forcing him to sleep out with the livestock.
"Fine, alright boy." conceded the Nohrian officer grudgingly. "But any funny business- any at all-"
"Thank you, sir." Kaze replied as bowed slightly. "You'll scarcely notice my presence."
"I'd better not. For your own sake."
As night rolled around, Kaze knew better than to attempt to socialize with the soldiers in the camp- let alone dine with them come supper time. He was not here to ingratiate himself to those who saw him as a beast or even to fraternize- his sole mission for the time being was to return to Nohr- to return his bundle containing the sacred weapons to his lady. Gnawing on the stale bread he'd been spared, as he forced it down, Kaze looked upon one of the nearby stallions grazing on some hay without a care in the world. "I must admit to envying you, my friend." he admitted.
***Needless to say, Kaze did not exactly have a restful night of sleep. His guilt and conflicting feelings, his surroundings and his occasionally-restless bunkmates did little to improve the quality of his "rest." At some point, well before sunrise, he was awoken by a soldier's boot nudging his side and a Nohrian-accented voice growling at him. "Hey, boy! Up with you!" he demanded. "You're blocking the stables!"
Kaze opened his weary eyes to find a soldier painfully jabbing him in the stomach with his boot. Instinctively recoiling from the abuse, Kaze lifted himself to his feet, dutifully taking the precious bundle on his back with him. "We've got our orders! We're moving out!"
"Understood." confirmed Kaze. "Would your marching orders be taking you to the borderlands per chance?"
The Nohrian stared down the ninja as though Kaze had offered to defile his little sister in front of him. "You'd REALLY love to know, wouldn't you, boy? Everyone knows how sneaky you 'people' are."
Realizing that he could only make this worse for himself by even continuing to attempt an explanation, Kaze sighed in defeat, giving the man the space demanded of him to prepare the horses. He did not even dare to attempt an appearance at the morning mess, seeing as the officer in charge of the stables was considered fairly good-tempered. Instead, the ninja wisely decided to keep his distance from his hosts, only tailing behind the rear of the detachment once they'd set out on the path.
The starving, abused beggars, the piles of freshly-made corpses awaiting either burial, cremation, or to feed the scavengers, Kaze could generally steel himself to put out of his mind. The heads impaled on pikes, bodies (living or otherwise) impaled in front of villages as grotesque "warnings," Kaze, while finding them distasteful, could usually ignore them- he was a ninja, after all and had experienced some rather brutal training to that end.
However, the one thing that truly tugged at his heartstrings- came once the unit's commander met up with one of his superiors- perhaps the most odious character in the entire Nohrian army. "Oh, Sir Hans!" said the commander dutifully, standing at attention. "With all due respect-"
Kaze's suppressed laugh came out as more of a snort, earning the silent ire of damn near every pair of eyes in his immediate vicinity. "What was that, boy?" snarled the commander.
Immediately shirking from this faux pas, Kaze knowing that his mission required his returning to Lady Corrin in at least two pieces, was apologetic. "Nothing." he lied.
"With all due respect, Sir Hans," resumed the junior commander. "what brings you here? I hadn't heard tell of the guards in the area."
A sinister twinkle flashed in the brute's beady eyes, innocent blood still dripping from the axe (which for whatever reason, seemed somehow out of place in his possession) he leaned against. "Oh, you know, little things." Hans bragged, a feigned humility in his tone. "His Majesty has me on a very important mission."
The commander nodded. "I wish His Majesty could trust in my abilities like he does yours, Sir Hans."
So briefly he was reasonably sure it imagined, but Hans' wicked gaze seemed to eye Kaze upon making the statement. "Yeah, it's good to be a trusted bigshot, I can say. Trusted to clean up vermin-"
As if a third participant in the conversation, despite the blue skies and complete lack of cloud cover, a trio of violent thunderclaps interrupted the bandit's bragging. Again, Kaze was sure that stress and fatigue were causing him to imagine it, but for an instant, Kaze could swear that the rumbling sounded like a man's voice- one none too happy with Hans.
However, something Kaze could not explain away or justify was a sudden shriek of terror piercing the (albeit unnatural) morning calm, the source of which becoming just as apparent as the Nohrian-accented male voices arguing with each other. Emerging from the ruins of the hamlet nearby was the shrieking voice's owner- a terrified young woman of fifteen at the very oldest- a girl, really- marked by her ragged, torn clothing, dark hair and eyes and utterly terrified expression. The argument shared by the four or so soldiers made the source of her distress rather obvious:
"Hey, I saw it first!"
"I called it!"
"You two wouldn't even be here if I hadn't lanced the buck trying to charge you two- I get first dibs!"
"Fuck you! You saying you're going to get out pricks wet-"
"Alright, what's the meaning of this?" inquired the commander.
The first soldier swallowed, not relishing explaining himself. "Well, sir, after this raid-"
The girl writhing in their grasps, noticing the weapons on Kaze's belt, she turned her gaze upon the ninja pleadingly. "Please, sir! I beg of you-"
The second soldier slapped her across the face as Kaze turned away from her guiltily. "Shut up, you stupid cunt! That's how you talk to your betters?!"
The commander simply shrugged. "Boys just being boys. Carry on."
Meanwhile, for a number of reasons, the most reprobate figure there was absolutely relishing the scene, taking in Kaze's anguish first of all. "Something wrong, boy?" he inquired, an evil smirk on his thin lips.
His mission forcing him to ignore the increasingly desperate pleas to a shared humanity from the lass and accordingly belligerent rhetoric and body language from her attackers, Kaze hung his head in shame. "No, nothing is wrong." he lied poorly. Lady Corrine had better know what she's doing. he thought balefully as the colum proceeded onward.
As with any group of powerful, opinionated individuals, it was little surprise that members of Notre Sagesse's council of seven wise men...did not always see eye-to-eye, to put it lightly. But in the past year or so, their debates- even in the presence of the king- had become increasingly acrimonious. Of course, this statement of affairs was helped little by the elevation of a certain young upstart, elevated to the council to represent his home island in the country's southeast. And as fate would have it, he had absolutely nothing good to say about their Nohrian "older brother" and their "protective" occupation.
"-and finally," Paul concluded at long last. "as men of our country of faith and honor, how on earth can we continue to justify this continued submission to a marauding enemy- literally inspired by demons- and claim any legitimacy? Is our purpose not to advocate for and defend the people of Notre Sagesse from any danger to the best of our ability?"
The wizened old king nodded sympathetically. "A fine point you have, Sir Cornilescu." he conceded. "As you have all, gentlemen. It is an honor and a privilege to have such fine men guiding our kingdom in this difficult time."
Dismissing his seven subordinates, the seventh knew where exactly he was an unwanted presence, but had the courtesy and professional manner to give his regards to the council's head. "Hail, Valerian." greeted Paul solemnly. "Your tale of the widow and her daughters was poignant indeed."
"Indeed." agreed the council's elder disarmingly. "In spite of the comparative windfall of my home, there is still much suffering in our country."
Paul nodded dutifully. "Of course. That fact is exactly why we struggle so fiercely against these Nohrian demon-spawn. I look forward to our further cooperation for the good of our country, gentlemen. And I pray I live to see the day when those demons are tossed back into the sea."
With this, Paul took his leave of the other council members. At this confirmation of their fellow's stance against the kingdom being no mere pretense, one of Valerian's closest allies- a large man with a fading hairline- spoke for most of them. "I've seen this 'legion's' barbarous troublemaking firsthand too many times to count." remarked Ianus bitterly. "And the common people are still taken by his bluster!"
Valerian grimaced. "So we're aware of what must be done? For the good of the country?"
"Of course!" exclaimed Marius, perhaps a bit too excitedly. "I can have my finest men mobilize and-"
"No, you fool!" exclaimed Armando, a pale, wiry man in his fifties. "They're like a pestilence! You think it extinguished in one town, it shows up in another as though nothing happened!"
"It is as Armando says." reminded Valerian. "We will have to coordinate our efforts- lure Paul to one of our residences and see him arrested before we move against his legion."
"Precisely the point." added Junius, a built man in his mid-forties. "We must cut the head off the snake, lest it maim us with its last breath."
Iuda, a rather depressive-seeming man in his late thirties, sighed in resignation. "With this, the die is cast, my friends."
Junius' companion, a man of similar age, but differing build, seemed somewhat bored with the proceedings. "Well, whatever we are to do with him, we may as well do it quickly before he's made a martyr." remarked Cassius.
To be sure, Corrine's road had been a bloody, arduous one. Even by her own sympathetic count, she'd lost count of just how many nameless innocents had lost their lives- many of them in very horrible fashion- over the past year and a half or so. However, it was only for the first time that Corrine could actually approach this chain of events from a point of true, genuine optimism given her station and accomplishments. Of course, that could have also had more to do with the individual whom she shared her bed and the heavy, latent scent of sex hanging over their shared lodgings at a certain inn.
"You are insatiable, you know that?" she teased playfully, running a hand across his toned abdomen. "Good."
The king gave one of his exceptionally-rare smiles in return. "I could say the same of you, Corrine." he replied. "We make a fine pair then!"
"How fine a pair do you mean, Leo?"
"I was telling those nobles the truth. I really do see you as my queen and the mother of my children."
With a girlish giggle, the princess nudged her backside against Leonard, leaving a trail of kisses up the arm draped over her form, the king turning his wrist to her lips with a satisfied sigh as she reached the hand. "Oh, fuck yes, Corrine. Almost there!"
She was a very giving lover, to be sure. Corrine simply could not help but get something out of turning her partner into a moaning, orgasmic mess. However, it still escaped her (and would continue to do so) why exactly her king so loved her lavishing attention with her lips and tongue on the space right between his second and third knuckle on his right hand, as though it were an erogenous zone in its own right.
"Soooooo...what was it exactly you were saying about me mothering your children, Leo?" teased Corrine, semi-seriously as she continued crowding his personal space with her backside, both ignoring the rapping at the door.
"You know full well, Corrine, you naughty little minx-"
At least a minute of this rapping at the door had finally worn on Leonard's temper enough. "WHAT?!" he bellowed at the door.
Rather thoughtlessly, one of the royal guards entered. "Apologies, milord! But I bring-"
The king's face warped into an expression of simmering rage, his free hand mimicking wrapping around his underling's neck. "Did I or did I not, tell you idiots to bother me under NO circumstances?!"
"I-I bring word from the Cheve territories, milord! Your oversight is required at once! It concerns a battle in progress!"
"Fine, fine. Send word that I'll be there with due haste."
"At once, milord!"
Leonard sighing in aggravation, he rose from the bed and began to redress himself, much to Corrine's dismay. "Ohhhh, do you HAVE to leave me like this, Leo?"
"I'm sorry, I truly am, Corrine. But duty still calls. But you have my word that the finest of carriages will see us back to the castle."
At the mention of the castle and by extension, Azura, Corrine felt her heart sink into her stomach. Granted, she knew she had done her wrong, but by this point, Corrine was still in the honeymoon phase of her whirlwind, fairy-tale romance with this gorgeous king. As he kissed her farewell, Corrine almost scolded herself for being so pessimistic. After all, what was the absolute worst that could happen?
Despite their best, centuries-old efforts to do so, Cheve and her people were always a difficult region for Nohr to control. And this particular city- an old mining town at the foot of a mountain- provided one of the best possible vantage points for any potential insurgents- which naturally, is exactly what happened. The Nohrian army had actually lost control of the region for a good four months before it was finally bought under control.
"And what exactly do our losses look like again?" Leonard inquired of the adjutant officer.
"Dreadful, Your Majesty." prefaced the officer. "They were well-led, they knew the terrain, and exploited both to the very best. As you know best, we've only regained control of the area a fortnight ago and the bandit attacks have not ceased in the slightest."
"Damn." swore the king. "If only we could get Pietro out here instead of whatever damnfool thing he's occupied himself with. That would probably keep these vermin in line at least a little better."
"I concur, milord. Wholeheartedly, in fact. That however, does not mean we are not making do with what we have to get our message across-"
The conversation was immediately interrupted by a mixture tortured screams and the sounds of mallets impacting against heavy nails. "Shut up!" spat the soldier, pounding the nails into the pole-bound rebel's abdomen. "Unless you want us to cut your tongue out like the other one."
"Trust me, it didn't do much." remarked a second soldier, forcing the great stake through the poor, mutilated (but still very-much-alive for the time being) Chevois bastard through his ribcage. "They all screamed like damned babies."
Ignoring what had become more-or-less business as usual, Leonard continued his conversation. "You said there was something rather unusual about this engagement." he resumed. "That we managed to capture their commander this time."
"That is correct, Your Majesty. Everyone knows the savages would rather kill themselves rather than be taken alive, but none can figure out exactly why the Chevois keep doing the same."
Their path took them in front of seven Chevois knights in varying states of distress, impaled either through their rib cages, abdomens, and so on. All still alive for the time being.
"Good. Take me to said commander." demanded Leonard. "Perhaps we can get some information out of him."
Exactly as he demanded, the king was led some distance into the ruined town square now playing host to a number of Chevois captives, either bound on poles and crosses according to various methods or suspended from a ruined building or another by their extremities. The commander of the rebellion- a gaunt-looking man with a scarred upper body- being one of the latter. Even more unusual was the the mare by his side, three Nohrian soldiers having difficulty controlling, especially when their king came into her line of sight.
"Whoa!" exclaimed the adjutant. "What exactly is with this beast?!"
"No idea, sir!" explained one of the soldiers. "She's just been like this ever since we dragged her master out of his rat's nest."
For the man of the hour however, it was little concern for the time being. Gazing upon the humbled insurgent, Leonard managed an condescending smirk. "So I suppose YOU were the one responsible for your people's suffering in such a manner, no?" he remarked cruelly. "Some knight you are."
Quite a bit of fluid already robbed by his previous torture, Felician still managed a fair bit in his mouth, contemptuously delivering a wad of bloody saliva into Leonard's face. "Sick, fucking bastards..." he scowled. "And you wonder why we'll never submit to you Nohrian fucks?!"
Rather annoyed by this show of disrespect, the king wiped away the mixture of fluid with his free hand. "That's the problem with you people. You just don't know how good you have it. Time and time again, we offer you peace and protection from the savages and how do you repay us without fail?"
Felician's expression flared at this twisted recounting of Chevois history. "Maybe it's you Nohrians who are the fucked up ones? Everybody knows it! You don't just lick the boot on your necks- you worship it! Probably literally too!"
Leonard scoffed dismissively as he turned away from the knight, pacing lengthwise in front of the captives. "You Chevois and your obsession with your 'liberty,' I swear-"
By now, the mare in question, already frantic, was becoming absolutely frenzied, finally escaping from her captors momentarily, only to find their king in her path. With an aggressive, terrified whinny, the beast stood on her hind legs and delivering a series of those very peculiar kicks her kind are wont to do, Leonard being knocked on his backside, having reflexively blocked the blows with his forearm, none worse for the wear save for the scratched skin and clothing beneath his gauntlets and bruised pride.
His minions too busy with keeping the horse under some degree of control to really pay such subtle shifts, at that moment, Leonard picked himself back up to his feet, there was a distinct...change, nigh-imperceptible save for the noticeable dip in temperature.****
"Idiots! Morons! Dolts!" he upbraided. "Slaughter that beast at once!"
Utterly terrified at their monarch's legendary wrath, the two soldiers stood at attention, somehow acting as immovable poles holding the mare to her position. "A-at once, sire!" they spoke in unison. "And give me that!" he demanded, snatching the dagger from one of the minions. "And the rest of you! Stop fucking around and start disposing of these uppity rats!"
While knowing fully well he was out of luck, Felician nonetheless got a bit of a kick out of the man who liked to think himself omnipotent being flustered by circumstances, as evident by his smirk. "Having some trouble, 'Your Majesty?'
Leonard remained silent as he jammed the weapon into Felician's exposed thigh, earning him a scream of existential pain and terror as the king literally twisted the knife in, taking care to snag as much loose flesh on the blade as possible. "Perhaps we were too subtle before?" he growled dangerously. "Perhaps I was too fucking merciful to you lot?!"
Much to the distress of its owner, the king hewed a good bit of flesh from Felician's thigh, the muscle now very much exposed. "I think it's time I sent a REAL message to you Chevois." he remarked, repeating the action on the other side of his victim's leg. "A message about what happens to those who spurn Nohrian generosity."
Felician's eyes began to water as his shrieks continued, Leonard carving another piece of flesh from his thigh, catching the attention of his very disturbed adjutant. "Go on, you have your orders!" he spat. "They want to ACT like beasts, we'll butcher them like beasts!"
"A-at once, milord." repeated the adjutant, more terror at his king than actual contempt for their wayward "brother people" in his tone.****
