Behold, the best chapter in the story. This is the peak. It only gets less good from here.
Chapter XVI
The signs of utter pandemonium became more evident the closer we got to Remire Village. Thick smoke burgeoned from flaming rooftops, the air stank of blood and iron, and the sounds of screaming echoed throughout the area. It most certainly hadn't been like this at the start of the moon. What nightmares had swallowed the town? Worst of all, we of the Blue Lion House weren't faring much better. Having just come back from dealing with demonic beasts and— in my case— horrifying visions at Zanado, we were more than exhausted. And we had returned to Garreg Mach in tatters. This might be tough.
We quickly approached the carnage, getting close enough to hear the voices without choking on the flames. Every villager that had been infected with the disease was on a rampage, their faces bloated with sickly veins, their eyes wide shut with their pupils rolled back into their heads.
"Kill! Kill! Ahhhh!" one of them screamed.
"Haha… hahaha… hahrngyahh!" another continued.
"By the Goddess," Mercedes breathed.
"This doesn't make any sense!" Annette said shrilly. "Professor Manuela said it was most likely a mixture of poisons or dark magic! And no dark magic in the literature could cause anything like this! Especially not at this scale!"
"Somebody! Somebody, please help!" rang the sound of a child.
"What's going on here…?" Jeralt asked hesitantly, weapon already in hand.
Dimitri merely shook his head with a low groan of… something I couldn't quite identify. Was a situation like this tied to Duscur? To his Termina?
"What's wrong with you? Are you okay?" Byleth said to the crown prince. Yikes, phrasing.
"I… Don't worry about me. I'm fine." He seemed to refocus. "Don't waste your breath on me– saving the villagers is far more important! We haven't a moment to lose!"
"What can we do amidst such confusion…?"
"We'll have to take up arms against the villagers who are rampaging," Felix argued. "If we strike carefully, it should be possible to spare their lives."
"Oh dear," came Mercedes' worried voice. "Isn't there a way to resolve this peacefully?"
"No matter how long it takes, we'll need to check and rescue them all, one at a time," Ingrid commented.
"But those who have gone mad may be victims themselves!" Ashe countered. "It must be possible to save them!"
"Well, saving the people who aren't crazy is definitely our top priority! Let's get on with it already!" Annette demanded.
"Slow down, Annette," Sylvain cautioned. "It won't do anyone any good if we panic and get ourselves inju–"
Dedue's gaze tracked into the chaos, eyes locking on something in the gloom. "Isn't that–" I followed his gaze, but couldn't quite see through the murkiness of the destruction. "Your Highness. Suspicious figures spotted in the village. They seem to be…" He squinted. "Watching the chaos."
Dimitri's countenance became dark. "Are they the ones responsible for this madness? It's… it's clear what must be done." His voice was raised, as shrill as Dimitri could get. "Kill them all. Don't let a single one of them get away! Sever their limbs and crush their wicked skulls!"
Everyone, except for Dedue and Felix, appeared surprised by this outburst from the normally relaxed prince of Faerghus. I didn't understand why. It was still the same Dimitri.
…
The fray opened. Everyday people were running this way and that– some in fear, some in bloodlust. The stench of dark magic was in the air. I could just barely make out still shapes in the smog– shapes of people, calmly observing the pandemonium unfold. My blood boiled– there was no doubt that these were the people who had caused this mess. What sick monsters would do such a thing?!
"I'll rein in the villagers who have turned violent!" Jeralt commanded. "You focus on rescuing the others!" With a mighty whinny from his mount– seriously, where did they come from, he was definitely not on a horse a couple of seconds ago– Jeralt threw himself into the fray, and we followed suit swiftly afterwards.
The Blade Breaker and I bombed down the center directly into the thick of the fight, while the rest of the house split into teams to take care of the flank. Two fully insane adults who were hacking at a still-standing door turned and charged at me– they had the same crazed look in their eyes as the bandit at Zanado just before he donned Φρίκη. I flawlessly rammed my shield into the right one's pelvis before parrying an attack from the left. A twist of my wrist threw my attacker's weapon away, which was plenty of time for Jeralt to stab them cleanly through the gut. A mad child tackled me and tried to suplex me, but they failed after being flash-cooked by a burst of Din's Fire. The strong fire spell ignited some stray wood that once called itself a house, and I made haste to run in there and help the elderly lady who was stuck inside escape.
"Bless you, child!" she thanked profusely the whole way. I quickly got back to it, flashing a chasing villager with a Deku Nut before slashing them powerfully across the stomach. I let them careen into a wall before continuing my dash back into the chaos, slide tackling yet another villager and letting a conveniently-close-by Ashe shoot him from point-blank.
"This is just like fighting Lonato's militia," he cried glumly. "Why did this happen?"
"We can grieve later!" I said. "Save the people we can today. The others are already dead– it's only a matter of how many they take down before they fall."
Ashe's face solidified, and he nodded, nocking an arrow and loosing it mere centimeters from my head. I flinched before realizing the bolt had made its mark, sprouting from the brow of an approaching villager.
"Th-thank you!" hollered an unarmed villager, who used the opening we had made to bravely run away. There were still more residents to save and only so much time. I rounded a corner and immediately ran into Annette and Ingrid tag-teaming a trio of mad inhabitants. They seemed to be deftly outmaneuvering their attackers, so I felt safe in letting them handle it. As I sprinted through the alley, I flipped over the heads of one of the villagers, slashing at its head with enough strength to split a helm as I flew above them. Landing squarely on my feet, I quickly Hookshotted a wooden facade and clambered up onto a roof. It was then that I saw him.
"The one giving orders to the others…" Dimitri called from somewhere. "Isn't that–"
Tomas.
The.
Librarian.
Or should I say…
Solon.
The.
Agarthan.
Katáktisi and I stood in stunned silence on the rooftop. There was no trick of the light– it was certainly him, or at least his disguise. The cane, the posture, the swoop of light-brown hair… Who else could it be? And who else would have Agarthan mages flanking them?
Katáktisi. What am I looking at? It was not a question.
The voice was silent.
I. Am. Furious right now! I shouted internally. Too long had I merely put up with my personal suspicions regarding the Agarthans. Too long had I hated the Crestwraith's obsession with blaming the Saints for everything. Now, faced with this betrayal, there was no stopping my wrath. You have gone on and on about how the Nabateans must die. How the Nabateans ruined Fodra. How the Nabateans are destroying humanity inside and out.
They do. Look upon their foul Church and–
Why don't you look upon what's happening right in front of us?! Say what you will about the Church, but this? This is wanton slaughter– and for what? For what?!
There must be a purpose for the culling of Remire, it reasoned slowly. My blood boiled. That was all it had to say for itself?
"And what's that purpose of yours? Huh? Huh? I'd love to hear it!" I demanded. I realized I was talking out loud, and practically screaming at that. I'm not in love with the Church of Seiros and all, but this is something I cannot stand by. This is something that I cannot ally with.
Link. My champion. You must understand that salvation is not saving one person, one village at a time. Sometimes we must examine the situation of Fodra, the situation of all things, more dispassionately. These are the calculations of war. It is not heartwarming, but it is the–
Shut up, Fierce Deity, I spat. Suppose it wasn't just some village. Say it was Shambhala, or another Agarthan stronghold. Then would you swear vengeance against those who brought ruin to it?
That is… hardly the same thing.
It is exactly the same thing! This was impossible. If Katáktisi wasn't going to see it, I would have to take matters into my own hands.
"Tomas! What are you doing here!" demanded a rapidly approaching Dimitri.
"I'm not Tomas," 'Tomas' said forebodingly, voice hardening and twisting like knotted wood. "My name is Solon, the savior of all!" He dropped the false face with a flash of violet. In the place where the aging librarian had once stood, a dried-out husk with markings surrounding a swollen eye was cackling in cruel mirth. "What's the matter? So surprised you can't even speak? You were so easily fooled by my disguise… I was hiding away in Garreg Mach to get the blood of that little girl called Flayn." Speaking of Flayn, everyone was so gobsmacked by this admittedly drawn out reveal that they had left a wide opening for a rampaging villager to gun straight for her. I swiftly Hookshotted over there and thwacked him a couple of times until he stopped moving. "With her blood, we'll be one step closer to realizing our goal."
The swift clip-clop of hooves immediately made themselves known, as the Death Knight– er, Jeritza and a platoon of dark cavaliers arrived on the scene. "I'll have a bit of fun here too…"
"That's the Death Knight!" Jeralt called. "He must be an ally of Tomas… or Solon, or whoever he is."
"Blue Lions– charge!" Byleth commanded, and with a newfound strength at the reveal of our enemy, the house regrouped and faced this new foe. I Hookshotted back to the forefront, landing at the foot of the windmill just a dozen meters from Solon himself. I would have unleashed a spin attack to annihilate him and his sinister cohorts, but something held me back. I suppose I wanted answers.
"Solon, what is the meaning of this?!" I screamed over the din.
"Did Κατάκτηση never inform you?" the dark bishop inquired mockingly. "The experiment is not for your mortal ears. Now, ξενιστής– !"
I pounced, fully intent on separating his wrinkled flesh from his fragile bones even if the 'Second Axiom' would prevent me from doing just that. Just before I reached him, the Agarthan unleashed a Word. I could not immediately place its meaning, and the memory of it slid from my mind like water into a sieve shortly after. But its effect was still felt. It was as though a switch was thrown in my mind. Whatever part of me constituted 'me' was shoved downward. Katáktisi did not take its place, or at least not the Katáktisi I knew. Instead, there was… something else. Blind obedience.
It was like an echo on the edge of my senses, that built upon itself until it was a scream, and it was all I could hear and all I could know. My left hand wilted, pulling the blade away from Solon's skin. My right hand drifted to my pouch, and I knew what I was reaching for long before my fingers closed around the wood. I fought and fought with all my might against the Word, and my hand lodged in my container.
Our will is our own, a voice echoed within myself. I couldn't differentiate who was speaking, between Katáktisi and myself. We will not make it soft for you!
It felt like years as I stood in silence, rallying my every fiber to not don the mask. I knew as soon as it graced my face, it would all be over. War would claim the lives of everyone who was yet here. All save the one who deserved it the most. However, I could tell by my still-present dysphoria that I was very much still a biological child.
"Διακόπτω," Solon said eventually, and with a gasp I came back to myself. What was that?!
The Third Axiom, my upstairs neighbor said after a moment's hesitation. Any Agarthan, at any moment, may utter that word, and I have no choice but to obey until the order to 'Cease' is uttered. It is why you must appear to be fully in my thrall. I shivered. The cacophony of Remire Village overpowered me all at once, and my sword clattered out of my grasp. I realized with a horrid start that the Fierce Deity's Mask was in my hand and out for all the world to see. I hastily stuffed it back into its place and assessed the situation. Most of the Blue Lion house, including Byleth and Jeralt, were curbing the Death Knight. The only people who were anywhere near close by were Dimitri, Dedue, and Mercedes, although they were moving towards Solon at a fast pace.
So what are these accursed 'Axioms' anyway? You mentioned them before, at Zanado, and obviously they're pretty relevant if they can strip me of my free will at any goddesses-damned time.
My programming is built on four primary axioms, Katáktisi revealed. Axiom the first– obey the orders of the Agastya and Lord Epimenides, especially when the Word is spoken, and preserve them above all others. Axiom the second– do not harm Agarthans nor their creations, unless that conflicts with the first Axiom. Axiom the third– obey the orders of Agarthans when the Word is spoken, unless that conflicts with the first or second Axioms. Axiom the fourth– preserve your programming, unless that conflicts with the first, second, or third Axioms.
And everything else is learned behavior?
Yes.
So what if you got two contradictory commands from non-Agastya Agarthans?
The command applied first takes priority.
I see. I don't know– it just feels simple in comparison to what I know you can do.
The Crestwraiths were programmed with a simulated behavioral core mimicking that which substitutes the Agarthans' hearts. A personality matrix similar to my creators, prepackaged to know anger, hatred, and obedience, made communication and issuing orders… more convenient. The sense of free will that I possess is merely a consequence of this.
"I see why Κατάκτηση chose you," Solon said, shaking me out of my thoughts. "You resisted the command for a time, a feat we thought to be impossible… Perhaps you would have been the ideal subject for this grand experiment, were it not for that thing on the back of your hand." He was referring to the vestige of the Triforce of Courage?! The one that I usually kept hidden below a glove?! How the hell did he– "But now, Κατάκτηση, it is time to er–"
"Solon!" Dimitri hollered, sprinting at full tilt like a runaway caravan towards the dark mage. "Your end has come!" Before the former librarian could get a word in edgewise, the crown prince's lance was flying towards him with the force of a thousand atrocities' worth of revenge. The Crest of Blaiddyd appeared behind him. The Agarthan stumbled for a moment before sinking into a weakened crouch.
"Heh, I could have conducted this experiment on any subjects. Now that I have what I came for, I must bid you farewell." With a flash of purple light, he was gone.
"Wait!" Jeralt cried, galloping up to the steps below the windmill. "Dammit, he's gone…"
"Link, you were standing here for a good while! Why did you not strike him down while you had the chance?!" Dimitri snarled, arms crossed.
"He… he…" I wilted like a dying flower, hoping to gain as much sympathy as I could. "He put some kind of… a s-spell on me. It was all I could do to not turn my blade on all of you…" I shivered. "Is that what the mad villagers felt?" I knew it wasn't, but it was a good angle to play.
"Aw, kid," the Knight-Captain said. "If you were strong enough to resist that… well, that's a miracle. Wouldn't want to put my lance between your eyes." He leaned down to ruffle my hair, momentarily exposing my ears. I quickly hid them, biting back the remark that I could kill him if I really wanted to.
I…
What, I snapped.
I concede.
Katáktisi, admitting defeat? Impossible. Who are you and what have you done with the voice that normally lives rent-free in my brain?
Is it truly so difficult to believe that I have had a change of heart? This is not the Agartha I fought for… or perhaps it was, and I was simply programmed not to see it. This does not spare the children of the liar goddess– what they did and have done is undeniable. But Agartha will pay for this. One way or another.
You're a hypocrite, I spat. Still, you cling to the notion that every Nabatean is bad and evil– at least the Nabateans didn't do this.
I was a hypocrite, it admitted with barely constrained anger. No longer am I blind to the sins of my creators. That does not mean I will blind myself to the sins of my creators' foes.
But you're still operating under the assumption that everything Agartha told you about the children of the goddess is true. You've existed for a thousand years… how many of those did you spend among Agarthans and Nabateans, and where?
I have known both for longer than you have been alive, and–
You were at war! Of course any account of either would be horribly biased. What happened today is proof that you don't know the Agarthans as well as you think. Is it truly such a far-flung idea that the Nabateans are in the same boat?
The Crestwraith thought on my line of logic. Yes, it decided. Their 'goddess' committed deicide. Their mouthpiece limits humanity on all fronts, from all angles, stifling progress, dissent, and potential. They even attempt to bend you to their will. These are actions that cannot– and should not– be forgiven. Its voice became shakier, which I hadn't believed was even possible. And yet… and yet I am less certain than I was that they should be entirely destroyed. I will need more information to decide who ought to claim sovereignty over this world.
It was progress. I would have to take it. I had to admit, I hadn't thought it was possible for our situation to become even more dire. At least before Remire, the Crestwraith could call the Agarthans allies. Heck, I had had a half-decent view of them despite all the red flags. It wasn't as though the Church didn't have enough red flags for all the Knights to communicate exclusively in semaphore, after all, and they certainly could have been a lot worse. The events of the last hour or so had torn those allies from me. I would not compromise my ideals by allying with them.
So… what do we do now?
We must not imply to Solon or his cohorts that anything has changed, the mask said. As much as it pains us, it is better to serve willingly than to serve unwillingly. In subjugation there is no hope of victory; only in actions chosen may dominance be asserted. Agartha, Nabatea– they are names alone. It is obvious that they mean the same thing– destroyers of man. But, my champion, as always the choices are yours.
I let loose a shuddering breath. I had to reevaluate the situation. Is there… anything else?
One thing. But I will elaborate on that once we return to the monastery. Now is not the time.
"I will… survey the village," Dimitri said, shaking me from my thoughts. "There may be some survivors." Good point. I walked over to him and started digging through the rubble.
"Everything… alright?" I asked softly.
"Y-yes," he said shakily. "Everything is fine. I'm sorry that you had to see that side of me today. It must have been quite a shock to you."
I didn't believe him for a second. "Don't give me that. What happened here was not okay. How can you say that everything is fine in the midst of this destruction? And how can you be expected to act like it is?"
"You are more wise than many give you credit for," he said. "But I am still alright. It just… reminded me of Duscur."
"Your Termina," I whispered so softly that the sound did not reach past my ears. "You did the right thing. Those people– Solon, whoever started Duscur, those who sow misery– deserve the worst of fates. I just don't want you to lose your way as you seek revenge upon them."
Dimitri chuckled. "Do not worry– I have too many people advising my every step for me to lose track of my purpose. You, Dedue, the professor, Rodrigue, Gustave… Glenn, Stepmother, and Father, to name but a few."
The last three were dead. It must have been a metaphorical thing. "I'm glad for it. And for the record– I was hardly surprised." I patted him on the shoulder comfortingly before walking away.
"Looks like we somehow managed to sort things out," Jeralt was saying to Byleth on the outskirts of town. "And casualties were… kept to a minimum." That was good to hear. I tuned out their conversation, focusing on helping Annette dig a villager out of a ruined building.
"Thanks, Link!" she said, with a lot of cheer for the circumstances. "First the Red Canyon, now this…" She dragged a gloved hand across her forehead.
"It's just an unfortunate happenstance," I said. The sun touched the horizon, a great red hue overtaking the desolation.
"What was Solon saying about an experiment?" she asked. "An experiment implies a control group… could this be tied to those mysterious people showing up around Garreg Mach?" Earlier in the year, there had been reports of strange individuals meeting on the outskirts of the monastery. Whenever a Knight of Seiros was dispatched to investigate, they would wind up dead. It had mostly died down after Jeritza was outed as the Death Knight, so everyone had assumed it had to do with him. But if they were tied to Agartha…
"I've been asking myself the same question," I admitted. "Whatever it is, it can't be good. I'm sure the Knights of Seiros will throw their full force into investigating."
"I'd hope," the noble bearing Dominic's Crest replied. She started humming as she worked… something about… swamp beasties? I stopped paying attention when Dedue arrived.
"Have either of you seen His Highness?"
"Last I saw, he was by the windmill," I said. Was there a well in Remire? I hoped not. If there was, it had better have been a normal well and not a facade for a torture chamber.
"He was not there when last I looked," Dedue said. "I will ask the professor and Captain Jeralt." And the big Duscurian was off.
The enigmatic Flame Emperor had been present shortly after the pandemonium subsided. He had spoken with Byleth and Jeralt before Dedue had interrupted them. Apparently he had said that if he knew what Solon was doing, he would have prevented it. If that was true, perhaps there was still an ally to be sought. Assuming, of course, he was telling the truth, which at this point I rather doubted. He did, after all, command the Death Knight, and Jeritza was openly fighting with the Agarthans against the students. It wasn't exactly a rousing vote of confidence in his ability to quell what had happened. I could not express my trust to anyone anymore. Not to the church, not to those who slithered in the dark, and not to anyone in between. Unfortunate.
"Oh, ah, it's quite an old book," Ashe was saying to Ingrid. "One of the really old legends of Faerghus."
"Aha, it must be the 'Sword of Kyphon' then, yes?" A momentary glance at the cover confirmed it.
"Oh, so you know it!" It was nice that they were bonding over something. Goddesses knew they needed something to be cheery about after Remire and Zanado.
"Oh yes, I know it quite well. I read it often when I was a child. In fact, I read it so much that my personal copy fell apart. I brought it everywhere with me. I adore that book– the tale of the warrior Kyphon, whose devotion and loyalty enabled his best friend, Loog, to become king. He went to great lengths to see things through."
"Exactly! I love the image of him charging forward into the fray, ready to take on any obstacle in the name of his king!" Blah, blah, blah, honestly. Loyalty and chivalry were all well and good, but the extremes that a lot of Faerghusians took it was concerning. I had heard the story of Gustave, Annette's father, who was so ashamed after the Tragedy of Duscur that he abandoned his family and was never seen again, although apparently he had taken on the name 'Gilbert' in the meantime and had come to be a Knight of Seiros. He was a serious old man who was a devout follower to the goddess, but I had seen him crack a smile with Hanneman one time.
I had finally finished my copy of Loog and the Maiden of Wind a couple of days ago. Maybe it was because of my experiences in Hyrule and Termina, but I just couldn't get behind its romanticization of the life of this actual person. I imagined what would happen if some bumbling idiot tried to write a story about my life a couple hundred years after the fact. My story deserved to be told candidly, without embellishment or cropping. If at all. From a technical perspective, the book was good– the passages were gripping at the pivotal scenes and the prose was solid. I just couldn't bring it within myself to enjoy it.
"Some day, huh," said Sylvain, taking a heavy seat next to me.
"I think that's an understatement," I replied.
"Can you tell me something?" Where was this going with this? "You were the first to get to Solon back there. And instead of hitting him, you just froze up. You grew up in Faerghus, so you know how to fight. What was that about?"
I blinked. Sylvain was smarter than he acted. I had half thought he was nothing more than a skirt chaser– that was how Ingrid, Felix, Dimitri, and even Sylvain himself described him. "He cast some kind of spell on me," I explained. "I think it was the same thing that made the villagers go wild. It was–"
"No, that can't be it. It took almost half a moon between the villagers first showing symptoms and them going crazy and attacking each other."
"How am I supposed to know what Solon had access to?" I shot back. "It was all I could do not to try to kill all of you."
"How were you able to resist it?"
"Maybe I just had a really good breakfast." I paused for a moment. "Do you seriously think I have the answer to that? Truth is– I. Don't. Know." I sighed. "I'm more worried about whatever 'experiment' that was. It must have had a purpose…"
"Crests, probably."
"Huh?"
"Everything in Fódlan comes back to Crests somehow. It's sickening. You're too young to understand, I guess."
"Try me, you might be surprised. You're only, what? Seven years older than me?" That hurt.
Sylvain crossed his arms nonconfrontationally, utterly casual in his presentation of himself. "Everyone wants Crests because they tie you to a noble family. They're the shortcut to climbing the social ladder. People don't care about the person– they just care about the Crest babies they can get out of that person. I don't think there's a single person out there who likes Crests, but we all have to pretend that we do because we think everyone else does too."
I looked at Sylvain in a new light. That was surprisingly well thought out. What didn't make sense to me was why he supposedly dated around so much if he felt this way about the Crest system. I would have to pursue that line of inquiry at a later date.
"Hey– I don't care about Crests and I'm not afraid to say it," I said. "And I wouldn't even if I was a girl. We didn't have Crests where I grew up. We were a tiny commune living deep in the woods of northern Faerghus. We never interacted with the outside world. Heck, I didn't even know there was anything outside of the woods except for, uh, more woods until I left it."
"Sounds like a nice place."
"It was." And that was true, even if it wasn't really real.
"There's a reason I came to the Officer's Academy. Just one reason," Dimitri spat. "I came here for revenge. And one day… I will have it."
Rhea and Seteth were busy being debriefed by Byleth on Remire. I had slunk away to my quarters. It had been a grueling day, and I was utterly beat– especially after 'Monica' had demanded a couple of extra things of me. The plans of the Agarthans were moving into full gear; preparations were being made for… something, I didn't know what. The doppelgänger merely had me moving some kind of weird equipment into an abandoned chapel on the outskirts of the monastery. Now the whole work made me feel sick to my stomach– I didn't want to aid the agents of Agartha any more than I already had. But if 'Monica' could do to me what 'Tomas' had… the mere thought terrified me. If I never had to be imprisoned in a cage of my own flesh again, ensnared by that foul Word, it would be too soon.
No– I wouldn't let my courage falter, regardless of how dire my situation became. There was still work that she was expecting me to do, but it was high time I stood up for what was right.
It is time, Katáktisi whispered.
Time for what?
To do that which I promised. That which I should not have done.
What are you talking about?
You will see.
Something clicked. The walls of my mind shifted and ground against each other, contorting into a new shape. A memory that had once been locked off to me was now open.
You wiped my mind?! I told you–
In my defense, it was done before you told me never to tamper with your memory.
I grumbled to myself, but accepted the explanation for now. It was time to look at this locked event, to see what had truly transpired that was so vital that Katáktisi had to expunge it entirely.
It was late in the night, late in the Guardian Moon, late in the year 1179. I had been kept up late managing some things for Alois, and I was beyond tired. Not as much as Termina, but that was hardly saying much.
It is time, Katáktisi said.
What?
Put me on. Now.
Are you insane?! I demanded. You'll get us both killed!
Not quite, the Crestwraith countered. At least, no more insane than you. Quickly now– take my form. The alternative is the doom of Fodra!
What was Katáktisi doing? It was never like this before– it erred on the side of caution when it came to the Nabateans before. Why did it ask me to use it now, in the belly of the proverbial beast? I could feel its claws in the corners of my consciousness, dragging my willpower into the abyss, and while I kicked and screamed for control, I could feel myself slipping away into that quiet place behind my eyes where all I could do was float there like a Biri, subject to the whims of the currents and unable to choose my path.
The transformation hurt more than I remembered. The agony of every cell in my body dilating, twisting into cruel harmony, was not something that could ever be overstated. For a moment, all I saw– all I was– was white.
The world dimmed, sliding back into focus. I took a moment to marvel at how… tall I was. My head wasn't scraping against the roof, sure, but it was a vaulted ceiling. But I could tell I was nearly the height of the very large door. Was this what Dedue felt like all the time? No, I was even taller than him now, by at least ten centimeters. It felt... Alien. Even in this form, in the body of a god, I still didn't feel like myself.
We ducked into the old library. The only occupant was Tomas, the aging and friendly librarian. What could Katáktisi possibly want? What gambit necessitated this grand risk?
Of course, the gift of hindsight allowed me to know that this was an Agarthan in disguise.
The Fierce Deity uttered a sentence that I did not comprehend at the time, but now that I had knowledge of the ancient language, I could understand the words perfectly. "Your deception is strong, Agarthan. But not strong enough."
Solon froze. His back straightened beneath his disguise. He turned to face me, but staggered when his gaze alighted upon the god of war standing before him. "Κατάκτηση?" he asked, unsure of whether or not this was truly happening.
"At last."
"We thought you were lost!"
"I and Μιζέρια were, indeed, lost for a time. By the grace of the Agastya, I found my way to Fodra."
"Through a rift?" He must have been talking about the Perpendicularity. That was the only explanation. How on earth did Solon know about it?! Did that mean he knew of Hyrule and Termina? "What of Καϊάφας?"
Katáktisi was still for a moment. "I have no knowledge of that name."
All throughout the conversation, I was screaming to be let out, to get an explanation for these happenings. What was the deal with Tomas? Why did he know Katáktisi? I was given no answer.
'Tomas' tsked. "If you must know, Καϊάφας is a colleague of mine. We are attempting to unravel the last riddle of Lord Epimenides– the process to create more of the Crestwraiths to reclaim Fódlan from those who stole it from us. Our success has been… limited. He departed to search for you."
"I know not of whom you speak, but you may consider me at your service," Katáktisi whispered. "Agartha has my blade and my host."
"You must hide within it," Solon advised. I wagered that 'it' was referring to me. "The enemies of all life are strong here. Should they sense you, they will not hesitate to destroy you."
"As the Agastya wills it, so it shall be." It reached for its skull.
"Hold a moment– give me your blood," the Agarthan ordered. "It will be invaluable for our research."
Katáktisi did as ordered, our double-helix sword exploding into existence from a cloud of mist. Holding it in its off hand, the cobalt vambrace that definitely wasn't there in Termina was dispelled, revealing something that was definitely not skin beneath it– steel and wires and ichor and something vaguely meat-adjacent cloying together in a wretched, rotting symbiosis. It drew a quick octothorpe upon our palm, and something pallid and chunky oozed forth, which reeked of death and desperation– of both heady and neurotic domination on the battlefield and the cold regret that came after. I felt no pain, at least not yet. It placed the probably-not-disfigured limb into-
"To… mas?" a new voice interjected.
We both whirled at the sudden intrusion. Standing in the doorway with a look of horror… was Monica von Ochs, dressed in the garb of a student of the Officer's Academy. Why was she acting so skittish? She was Agarthan too, and–
Oh.
Oh.
Quicker than a flash, the Fierce Deity crossed the room and thrust our uninjured fist directly into her skull. Her entire body was flung backwards, a sickening crunch filling the air as our hand plowed through her head. She slumped against a bookshelf and collapsed to the ground. She did not get up. She wasn't moving at all anymore. Like the Hylian guard in the back alley that Navi had steered me away from. She was in almost the exact same pose, actually.
There was a pregnant pause. Even my voice, which had been previously screaming demands to be let free, was silent in pure shock. Slowly, Solon inched forward and picked up Monica's limp body.
"We will find a way to twist this to our advantage," the scientist said. "Make yourself scarce. We will make further use of you and your host at another time."
Katáktisi nodded, doffed the mask, and ordered me to walk while I cast Heal on myself. I did not obey that order; instead I ran. Away from Tomas, or whoever he was. Away from the student I had just brutally assaulted. Murdered. Away to… somewhere. Someone. Mr Seteth–
I paused just outside the library. Wait.
What was I doing?
You were just going to retire for the night, Katáktisi informed.
When did I even get here? I had thought.
You must be out of sorts. Rest.
I released the memory, slotting it back into place along with the rest of them. How many other memories was my Σιγίλφάσμα hiding from me?
You have seen my last deception, Katáktisi assured.
What did he mean about making 'further use of you'?
That deception was not mine. I was forced to remove your memory of his further experiments. And I was given the explicit order under the Third Axiom to not return them, under any circumstance.
Can you at least describe them to me?
It was of little importance, really. He tested our reaction to weaponry forged of Agarthium as well as to umbral steel. He ran tests on your biological functions and abilities– since you are by definition otherworldly, it is only reasonable. Why, your pointed ears led him to believe you may have been related to the false god, which is of course incorrect. He also attempted to replicate your more esoteric weaponry, to no avail.
Is that it?
He knows of your Triforce, or at least the vestige of it. I didn't have the real thing in this timeline– that had disappeared when Zelda had cast me backwards in time, into this wrong wrong wrong body. But the memory of it was seared into my flesh, and sometimes when the air was especially still and when the moon was high in the sky I could feel it tingle. He has no reason to suspect it is connected to divinity– he merely knows that there is a small power in it.
It wasn't quite as bad as it could have been, but it was still a nightmare of a situation. Anything else I should know about?
Not that is relevant to this topic.
I swallowed, trying to ignore the feeling of constriction in my throat. Thank you for telling me what you could.
Do not give me your absolution. It would have been in your best interest to hear it far sooner than now.
Maybe. But better late than never. That'll have to do.
I was mad. Not because Katáktisi had lied to me, at least not in this particular instance– it had kept its promise to the best of its ability. I was mad at Katáktisi for trying to gaslight me into thinking that the Agarthans were a force for good in Fodra. I was mad at myself for my own weakness– by allowing Katáktisi to dominate me, I had doomed the real Monica. But moreso, I was absolutely livid at Solon. Livid at Agartha as a whole.
Agartha had used me to kill an innocent person, someone who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And even if the ends had justified the means back then, they most certainly didn't after Remire.
So remember how early in the story a reviewer suggested that Link should try to save Monica, and I replied that the fact that I started writing this before Three Hopes came out was going to be a problem? Yeah, uh, this is why.
Review please!
Louie Yang (FF): I promise pre-timeskip will be over before summer of 2024. Probably.
quadjot (AO3): I don't believe you need to know anything about any other FE game (aside from Three Houses/Three Hopes) to understand everything that's going on in Cobalt Crescent. There's a video on YouTube called 'Three Houses Lore Explained (in six minutes)' that can give you the jist of the background; although it skips over a lot of nuance, most of it's vaguely right. Hope that helps! If not, I can try to explain it myself, although my knowledge on the matter is less than perfect.
CuddlyManaki (AO3): I've been looking forward to posting that chapter for a long time…
DarthFlores (FF): Well, at least he's no longer willingly working for them… Funny story, actually– I literally forgot that the Remire chapter existed until I finished the Zanado business, and I realized 'oh shoot, Link will not stand with the Agarthans after this, but I still need the story to happen! Think, Savantics, think!' So I came up with Katáktisi's programming as a way of giving Link an obstacle to undoing the entire plot that he can't just brute-force his way past. What I envision from him is trying to put humanity in a position to contest and eventually defeat the Agarthans without bringing harm to them himself– by doing as much as he can to thwart Agarthan schemes while still being compelled to nominally work for them. I'm honestly not the biggest fan of it, but it leads to some really strong plot beats in the rest of the story that I really like for Link's character. Don't feel bad for voicing your opinion! I'm not hurt by it in any way, shape, or form– even if I had written Link to unquestioningly support Those who Slither in the Dark.
On an unrelated note, glad to hear you've decided to move over to AO3!
Killerjakee (AO3): Thanks for your input! Saves me work!
XLilaXTheXSpecterX (AO3): Link wasn't exactly able to sit down and have a nice meal in Termina, so since then he's had the stomach capacity of two walnuts and a grain of sand. Combo that with Raphael's Raphaelness and that's a recipe for disaster. Anyways, your comment also reminded me that 'Monica' is just as underutilized in this story as she is in base 3H, so I'm definitely going to have to add another scene for her in the next chapter.
Unknowndonut1 (AO3): Thank you!
flameMail (AO3): Definitely looking forward to that!
Equilized Enigma (AO3): Remire is pretty rough, yeah, but I had to throw at least one curveball your way, haha.
Lord_Ecramox (AO3): You are absolutely correct, and I have brought incredible shame upon my family name. It should be exd5. My bad. Glad you're enjoying it!
