The sound of buzzing, whirring, drilling and metal clanging filled the air of a small room deep within the mothership of the Mantlean Fleet. A small troop of engineers was jumping around Argo, bolting larger, tougher, and far heavier metal plates on his already thick set of armor. Each one appeared like a glimmering bronze from the outside, but was actually reinforced with several extremely dense alloys below the surface. Two engineers lifting together could barely carry each one of the individual pieces, much less the entire suit of armor. Argo didn't seem to mind their weight, however. Waiting for the upgrade to be complete, he looked down at his hand, occasionally twirling the spear in his grip and then holding it tightly. If what Mantlean intelligence has confirmed is right - the direction of footprints in Sumire, the sudden evacuation of the town after bombardment and Firre's Semblance being used to cover their tracks - the prince and his squad of helpers should be in Altar. Their unfinished, interrupted battle could now continue once again.
And now, I know how you fight... what your strengths are, the way you handle your sword...
The final clang against his armor sounded out across the room. The engineers all stepped back, and one of them, with shoulder pads that indicated his higher status within the hierarchy, stated:
"The upgrades are complete according to the specifications given by General Betula. You may proceed."
"Good..."
The new armor seemed adequate and up to the task. Argo flashed a frown, then marched out of the room, his golden fleece hanging off his shoulders and fluttering behind him. After making his way through a few squeaky-clean and barren corridors with walls of steel - at this point, it was getting a little nauseating to look at - he ended up on a slide platform at the very bottom of the mothership, jutting out of the vessel's "belly" and including a slide door that led outside. It was originally built for loading into smaller ships - they'd float up to the platform from below, and workers would bring equipment or supplies from the mothership into the accompanying vessel over this door. Argo was going to use it for something else, though.
A handful of ships were already descending to the forested surface, searching for openings between the trees where they could land and unload troops. When the fleet first began scouting the approaches of the town of Altar, they found that unlike Sumire, there was no line at which the forests end and buildings begin - rather, they were blended with the trees, which meant that isolating enemy targets was going to be difficult. With such conditions, General Betula ordered a ground invasion instead, supported from above by airship spotlights, searching for any buildings within the thick foliage. Valean troops will be flushed out and Prince Firre will be captured, no matter the cost.
Argo had been invited to one of the ships, but he refused. Why should he join the Mantlean weaklings on their slow descent when there was a faster and more spectacular way to land? The armored warrior leaned forward, then made a step - right into the cold early morning air. He fell, speeding towards the ground like a brick, his sheer mass easily snapping through twigs and branches, until both of his boots landed on the surface with a loud smash. Buckling under the weight, the dirt allowed them to sink a few centimeters with each step forward.
All that surrounded him were trees, trees, trees and a thick mossy forest floor. Still, the lights moving above and the whirring engines of the descending airships gave him enough directions where to go.
Closer to Altar, upon seeing the spotlights of the Mantlean airships himself, Firre made a step back and immediately yelled:
"They're landing troops..." Of course. That was always going to be their next resort if they couldn't just bomb the target to hell. Judging from the movement of their transport ships, Firre guessed that they didn't know the precise location of the town yet - and so they were going to sweep through the entire area, and so they still had time. "We need to go. They've reached Altar, but if we start evacuating right now, we might escape before they encounter us."
He turned around and began running towards the village, but stopped after only a handful of steps and turned around. Silva didn't move - rather, she was awkwardly cowering, her hand rubbing against her left arm. Confused, the prince repeated:
"Let's go, Silva. We need to evacuate everyone."
"Huh?" she perked up. "Um, you're asking... me to help you?" Once again, it was the same hesitation and uncertainty that Firre had experienced from her more than once before. After a brief sigh, he answered:
"Yes. Not only are you strong, and capable, but you are a part of "everyone"." Then, Firre pointed up, where, past the trees, the distant visage of landing Mantlean airships could be seen more and more clearly. "Because those people - you know that they'll kill you. And I'm sure you don't want that."
For a second, she hesitated still, but, ultimately, Silva ran after Firre, towards the town. It was not merely headlights that informed of the Mantlean presence - in the distance, the roar of Dust-powered engines followed, an unmistakable background noise. Perhaps people were already beginning to wake up, but, just in case, Firre handled that as soon as he ran back to the town's premises. With the lift of a finger, branches of wood would grow out in front of each door and then loudly knock against them, with enough force that it'd almost sound like someone was breaking in.
It worked. "Who the hell are-" Reza yelled upon swinging their house's door open, irritated by being woken up in the middle of the night, only to be interrupted by Firre:
"We have to move out. They've found us." His hand was pointing in the direction of the approaching lights and the distant airship silhouettes - as soon as Reza saw them herself, her attitude instantly dropped, and she tensed up to hold herself back from dropping an ugly, thick avalanche of swear words at the news. No, no. That would be unbecoming of me. Her eyes quickly settled on something else, however - or rather, someone else.
"Wait, Firre, that girl with you, isn't that..."
"There's no time to explain, but she's going to be helping us," the prince shot down her concerned question. By now, Ashen and Yche were making their way up to the house's exit as well - the former still had some sleepiness to shake off, but the latter was as amped as ever. "Better worry about what our plan is going to be, and figure something out quick."
"Right..."
Reza ran forward, to the middle of the street. The other Rangers had been placed in houses just across the street and a little bit further down the road - Firre had, thankfully, woken them up as well, so they could quickly mobilize what assets they had and move out. Some of the soldiers were confused, others had already noticed the silhouettes and lights in the distance and begun picking up their weapons. Reza turned back to the prince and said:
"Our top priority is to ensure that Mantlean troops do not reach the town. If they do, our efforts will be pointless - they'll know the direction we are evacuating everyone to and so flush everyone out of the mineshaft. We need to stop them in the forest, at least until everyone evacuates."
Firre's answer was skeptical. "We barely have enough Rangers as is. Splitting them between evacuation and fighting off the Mantlean troops will just lead to them being overwhelmed on both fronts." It got Reza to pause for a second, but her eyes lit up with an idea almost immediately.
"That's true. That's why I'm deploying you to the forest. Us three - and Silva, I suppose - will be there as backup, but you're the powerhouse here, and so I am going to need you to hold off the Mantlean assault, at least until the town can evacuate."
"Hold off the assault..."
"Um..." Silva's voice from the side drew both of their attention. "You just said that we don't have time. Whatever the plan is, you'd better do it now."
"Right, I'm off. Join me as soon as you can," Firre said without hesitation, turned around, and ran towards the edge of the town. Silva went right after him and pulled the sword out of her pungi with a quick twirl. Reza, Ashen and Yche were thus left by themselves.
"Everyone! Pack your stuff, and start moving towards the location, now!" the officer screamed, gesturing in the direction of the mineshaft. Ashen summoned her Aura wings and took to the sky, flying up to more distant houses and Ranger groups to inform them about the order.
"Yche? What's going on...?" Dagda asked, lumbering up to his daughter from inside the house, getting her to turn around and answer:
"It's happening, Dad. You need to get moving, and quickly."
While his comrades were busy rallying the city's inhabitants and the Faunus refugees, and initiating a hasty evacuation, Firre, with Silva tagging along, entered into the forest. Running past trees and bushes, he drew his gunblade and briefly checked his chambers. All three already loaded - exactly as he needed. From her belt, Silva produced a bottle of water and popped it open - the liquid inside coalesced in her hand and then extended to form a javelin.
"Firre," she called out to the prince. "That Invulnerable we fought back in the mine... He could be with them. Be careful."
"I'll keep that in mind, but we're both past any chance of being careful now..."
One tree passed, then another - and the first flashes of white Mantlean uniform appeared in the distance, partially obscured by the leaves and tree trunks. As soon as they landed on the surface, Mantlean soldiers organized into lines and began advancing through the forest in a disciplined march. Dust rifles were in their hands, and their uniforms were easy to make out within the green. White overalls, with a silver armored chestplate and a helmet covering both the top and sides which provided protection and almost made them look like a line of approaching white knights. The uniform did not provide any camouflage, but it did not need to - Mantleans sacrificed it for the intimidation factor. Towns and villages, seeing their approach from afar, could be terrified into surrender without a single shot fired.
Firre was not deterred by the sight. He stepped out in a small clearing, cocked his gunblade, and yelled:
"Stand down at once or suffer. I'm giving you a chance to leave Vale alive."
The reaction of the Mantlean soldiers to Firre's voice did not even address his threat. "We've made contact! Move into cover!" the officer among them, distinguished by shoulder pads and a long gray cape, yelled, and the other soldiers immediately leapt into position. They went behind trees and bushes, pulled their rifles forward, cocked them and aimed at the prince. While he still had the time, Firre glanced toward Silva and muttered:
"Scout on ahead. I'll catch up."
"Fire!" the Mantlean officer yelled. Firre sprang into action immediately. Spinning his sword faster than any of the soldiers could follow, he deflected over a dozen Dust blasts, then lunged forward - with a wide upwards arc, he slashed through the nearest of the unfortunate soldiers. His Aura barrier disintegrated instantly. A lifeless body, with a deep slash wound running from the shoulder to the other thigh, collapsed to the forest floor - Firre looked down on it for half a second before returning to the fight. He hardly appeared like a dastardly villain. I'm sorry. But you were given an out, and I have no other choice.
Once Firre's eyes turned back to the rest of the squad, he raised two fingers. Wood sprouted from the earth, engulfing the other Mantlean soldiers' feet and then fashioning itself into knots, with which they were lifted and hung upside down. The growing tree trunks tipping them over and raising them up got them to drop their rifles and start flailing frantically.
"Huh?!" "What the hell?!" "Agh, what's happening?!" and other cries of confusion, frustration and fright followed one after another. Firre briefly twirled the sword in his hand, then pierced through the first of the soldiers. Then another, and another, and another, until finally the whole Mantlean squad was eliminated and dropped to the earth.
Quick, gets the job done, and with little pain.
He hardly got a chance for a pause or thought, though, as the faint sound of musket fire in the distance got him to drop everything and run forward. An even larger Mantlean troop was advancing towards town, and they spotted Silva along the way - immediately, several volleys of rifle fire were sent in her direction, tearing through leaves and bushes alike, and setting a few trees on fire. She hid behind a tree, threw her javelin, and struck one of the soldiers in the shoulder - not enough to kill him, however.
"Move forward! Find her, and execute!" the Mantlean officer yelled, all while gesturing for the other half of the squad to keep moving towards the village. They did not get very far, however - as soon as that group of soldiers, around ten of them in total, split off, a burst of wood from beneath their feet suddenly threw all of them into the air. For a few seconds, it was raining men - and guns, falling to the mossy ground with them. A few of the standing soldiers tensed up at the sight, as well as at the sight of the approaching Valean prince, but none even dared to flee.
The first volley was fired. Firre blocked each one of the shots, deflecting them with his blade with precision, and walked forward. Behind him, Silva withdrew her javelin's water from the soldier's shoulder and then threw it again, and again. Firre, meanwhile, did not cast anything quite yet. As efficient as it would be to take down another squad with a single mass wood attack, what the Faunus girl told him right before the battle began rang back in his mind. Should he waste too much of his Aura on common soldiers, he may not be ready for the Mantle-Mistral alliance's aces, if they deployed any in this fight. Simpler and more brute melee takedowns would preserve that energy for later battles.
That was not the only thing that concerned him, either. With the corner of his eyes, he could see white specks deep in the forest to his right, as well as his left. Even more squads of Mantlean soldiers, all advancing in the same direction. Even a single one of them reaching the border of the town could cause tragedy. Damn it... This might not be that easy...
"They're here!" a yell from behind came, and, right as Firre reached the first of the Mantlean soldiers and struck, Ashen flew over the battle, weaving past the dense thicket of trees, and dropped Yche down from above. Already with her hammer at hand, she landed right in front of the Mantlean line - immediately causing them to scatter back and search for cover. Not all of them were so lucky, though.
"Get out of my home!" Yche yelled and slammed her hammer down on the first of the soldiers. His Aura barrier broke, then his helmet. A lifeless body collapsed to the ground, which immediately gave her pause. "Oh... Oh gods..." She wasn't conscious of it before she swung, but this was the first time she'd had to fight people with the intent of killing them. Not Grimm, people. Not arrest them, or subdue them, kill them. It was inevitable with her career, perhaps, yet... Well, for one, she didn't think it'd look so bloody.
"Yche, watch out!" Firre yelled. She immediately jumped into action, spinning the hammer in her hand to deflect several Dust rifle shots from the other soldiers. Above and then behind them, Ashen swept down, tackling the squad's officer and pinning him down on the ground with her spear. He struggled, trying to beat the Valean back with the butt of his rifle and aim at her face, but all of it stopped when she pulled her spear out of his armor and then stabbed into his neck.
It didn't really reflect on her expression. One down.
"Officer down!" one of the soldiers yelled. Now that their line was being hammered from different sides, their cohesion was falling apart - soldiers were uncertain which of the Valean Rangers had to be targeted first, and some began shooting blindly at whoever was nearest to them. A few arrows flew past Firre from behind, aiming for the remaining soldiers - three of them stabbed into their armor plates and then detonated with colorful explosions. Having bypassed their Aura barriers, the Dust tore through their bodies instead. Crouching behind a bush, Reza lowered her crossbow and briefly observed the scene.
So, that's it then... this will be the rest of my life. Killing my own people, or, Gods forbid, people I know.
Ashen and Yche, once she snapped out of her initial reaction, struck the remaining Mantlean troops next - what remained of their squad began retreating afterwards. Reza rose back up and walked up to the rest of the group, while Firre lowered his sword and said:
"Good work. Keep moving. They're approaching the town from different directions."
"R-right..." Reza stammered, then, after planting her foot down, pointed to her right. "Firre, Silva, take on that squad. The girls and I are going to delay the squad on the left."
"Don't engage them directly," Firre ordered. "Wait for me to join with you, or retreat if I'm dead."
"You- Damn it, don't say that, Firre..." After her voice trailed off, Reza sighed and turned to Ashen and Yche. "Let's move!" Once again, the team split. Silva withdrew her water from a dead Mantlean's body and allowed it to float above her hand, formless for now. Then, she ran after Firre, who was already making his way towards the right flank. Yet another Mantlean squad was making its way through the forest in steady disciplined order, just as large as the last - the handful of soldiers fleeing from the destruction of the last squad were making their way in that direction. The white blurs in the distance, from their perspective, were getting closer and closer.
Over his shoulder, Firre glanced towards the Faunus girl for a fraction of a second, then called out to her, yelling:
"Silva! Move in from the left! I'll confront them head-on, and you can flank them."
"Uh... got it!"
As soon as they split, and Firre came just a bit closer, he stopped beside a tree and aimed his gunblade. Unfortunately, the unit's commander must have been hiding behind the formation, taking them down and so decapitating the unit was a no-go - so, to make his presence known, the prince fired into the line, hitting one of the soldiers in the neck and dropping them dead. Their reaction was unexpected, however. Not a single shot was fired in response. The Mantlean unit stopped, and a voice behind the line yelled:
"Here he is... Everyone, scatter and let him through!"
Right as Firre cocked his gunblade, that yell gave him pause. Let him through? The soldiers scattered to the sides, and then-
"Little prince Firre!" Argo's confident shout came. Pushing two trees to the side with his hands, the heavily armored Mistralian warrior stepped forward, his boots sinking a little into the moss and dirt with each step. Both his spear and shield were now hanging on his back, and instead of pulling them out, Argo went for something else. He put his finger in his mouth and then pressed it on his armor - the touch made a sizzling sound from the heat, and soon, the bronze plates began faintly glowing. "It's been a day. I'd say it has been a long enough halftime break." Immediately, Firre went into a defensive posture. Startled, Silva backed away right as she was about to engage one of the Mantlean soldiers and hopped up one of the trees instead.
For a second, Firre and Argo stared at one another, waiting for the other to make a move - even the soldiers behind Argo were taking their time. That's... a lot more armor than I remember him wearing. It was even a little baffling - that armor appeared utterly impractical, even if a trained warrior wielding Aura would be able to carry that much weight without significant issues. Surely, it still hampers his mobility...
"Don't tell me you're worried," Argo said, and then briefly laughed. "It's your first battle in your first war. People are dying left and right for the sake of geopolitics they don't understand... How does it feel? Is your heart beating any faster?"
Firre's frown sharpened. "Just shut up and fight..."
"Oh, so that's how it is."
That tone was a little disappointed, and Firre couldn't understand why. We're literally in the middle of a war, why is he offering me small talk again?
Their silent standoff didn't last. Suddenly, moving faster than Firre had anticipated with all that armor he was now wearing, Argo lunged forward. He wasn't even carrying a weapon - simply readying his arms to grab the prince. Firre reacted instantly. He splayed his hand forward and unleashed an enormous amount of wood outgrowths from the ground - a full wave of brown and gray, speeding past trees and grass and crashing towards Argo. An ordinary warrior would get picked up and then slammed away upon contact.
Yet, that... wasn't what happened. To Firre's surprise, as soon as Argo made contact with the wood wave, it began splintering and breaking apart. The heat that his armor gave off was charring and burning away the wood, sure, but the sheer mass, and thus sheer momentum that came with it, did most of the job. Firre's wooden outgrowths couldn't even delay such a heavy and forceful push, especially when they were burning up almost as soon as they touched it, so they broke apart, shattered, flew from side to side and created a cloud of flying splinters, ash and dust.
The unexpected sight got Firre to take a step back. "Wait..." he barely managed to mutter out before Argo emerged from the wood, a mischievous grin on his face and both arms aiming forward. Before Firre knew it, both of his shoulders were grabbed and then-
Bang!
Argo's forehead slammed against his skull with the force of a speeding motorbike. Firre's Aura barrier briefly cracked, and a small splash of blood fell to the grass below. Letting out a pained yelp, the prince succumbed to the ground as soon as Argo let go of his shoulder, his legs briefly giving up from the ringing impact and crumbling under his weight.
That one blow... it was harder than any of the strikes thrown at him during their first fight. Even as a few seconds passed, Firre was too disoriented to stand back up.
"Firre!" Silva yelled from the trees, then, once she saw the rifles trained on her, leapt off to another branch before the first volley hit her - and then another, and another... The Mantlean soldiers were fine leaving Firre to this weird Mistralian recruited by their General, but everyone else was their target - including her. She couldn't find a way to leap down to the ground and help him, not when she had to keep avoiding their shots.
Argo looked down on the fallen prince. "I think you should have taken that chance to talk."
That finally snapped Firre out of his weakness, and he pushed himself off the ground with his arms, throwing himself into the air and landing on his feet almost ten meters away after a flip. A trail of blood was now running past his nose, fleeing from split arteries in his forehead and occasionally forcing him to blink with one of his eyes. Still, he held onto his sword tight, ready to make up for the unexpected first strike.
"Really, you're still swinging?" Argo said, then pulled out his spear. "Let's fix that."
Once again, he charged forward, picking up immense momentum with each step. Firre did not bother to summon wood this time, not when he's already seen how counter-effective it could be. Instead, he raised his sword forward, setting up a defensive posture, ready to deflect the spear thrust and counterattack. In the middle of his run, Argo placed his finger in his mouth.
Their weapons struck each other with a powerful clang. The spear's pole began pushing the sword's blade down, without giving it a chance to slide off and strike Argo. He then went for something... unexpected.
Argo removed the finger from his mouth and then blew upon it - Firre instantly started growing wood from the ground to create a shield, but by then, it was too late. The enormous heat collected in Argo's saliva was sent directly into his face. Several hundred degrees, even if he was shielded by his Aura, were difficult to bear, especially as-
"Agh!" Firre screamed. Reflexively, he dropped his sword, stepped back and grabbed his face. His eyes... My eyes... Burning... Of course, he couldn't see what was going on, but the searing sensation, the jolt of agony, the heat radiating from his eyes - that all made it clear what was going on. Argo, meanwhile, was laughing his ass off.
I don't understand... Why didn't my aura-
In a snap, Firre realized what was going on. He placed his fingers on the pupils of his eyes and pulled off their lenses. For a few seconds, his sense of sight was still blurred and faded, yet, almost miraculously, it started to recover, and, slowly, a clear image of two charred lenses on his fingertips formed. Just as he expected, it was them. Firre's heart was still beating faster, and his breathing was heavy.
Argo's laughing calmed down, but once he got a good look of Firre's eyes, a vicious giggle followed, brimming with ecstasy. He couldn't peel his eyes off the little prince's face, even if the prince seemed clueless to what mystery he'd just revealed.
"She was right..." Argo muttered. Firre turned his attention back to him. "You have silver eyes..."
The heat of Argo's Semblance, used during the battle, had set a few dry leaves on fire, and a weak yet determined flame was beginning to spread from tree to tree. Sparks and specks of ash were being flung throughout the battlefield by a gentle nighttime wind. Shouts, boot stomps over the grass, and cracks of firing Dust muskets could be heard around them, joined by a distant background noise of yells and shots that must be coming from wherever the rest of their team was, or maybe even from the town.
This noise swirled around Firre and Argo as they stared at one another - Firre now on one knee, pushed to the ground by the agonizing, near-blinding experience, and Argo looking down on him, drinking in the sight with his eyes. For a second, he crouched down to pick up Firre's sword, then observed its craftsmanship.
"Silver eyes...?" Firre repeated his opponent's words, in a baffled voice. He knew that the real color of his eyes was a gray so light that it might as well have been silver, but he didn't understand why Argo, or anyone else, would find any significance in that.
"Oh, you don't know? Poor kid - that means your father kept you clueless to such a dangerous trait..." Argo answered, and made a few steps forward, getting Firre to tense up and clench his fists more tightly. Having gotten heavily battered both times he tried to clash with Argo, he was hesitant to cross weapons one more time - but that didn't mean he was surrendering, either. "I don't understand how Frigga guessed that you have these eyes, though. You don't run around turning Grimm to stone like all the others that the Mistress ordered us to kill... Is it because of your father? Is that the theory she's running with?"
Rattling off mysteries as if he was not even here, listening to what Argo was saying... Firre was getting tired of it. So, he suddenly yelled:
"Enough of this. Explain yourself. What do you mean by "silver eyes"? Why are you killing people with them? Who is this 'Mistress'? That's not... Do you even serve Mistral at all, or someone else?"
Argo stared at him, then looked down at the prince's sword in his hand and continued to inspect it. "Quite a lot you want to know... What happened to demanding me to just shut up and fight? Besides, you won't ever truly comprehend what I've seen... what I've realized about the world."
Suddenly, he threw the gunblade forward - it pierced the grass in front of Firre and its tip sank in, leaving the weapon sticking out of the ground.
"Take it, and fight."
He's... giving it to me. He had the perfect advantage against me, and he gave it away... Unfortunately, Argo did not give Firre any time to ponder about his surprising generosity - suddenly, he began marching forward, now pulling his shield off his back as well and returning to the same full hoplite loadout he had been using during their first battle. Before the prince knew it, his opponent was already upon him - all the confusion and hesitation had to be put to the side, Firre pulled out his sword and narrowly blocked the first spear thrust.
Stronger than before. It has more weight behind it.
One forceful blow came, then another. Argo was making use of his armor's enormous weight masterfully - using the massively increased momentum to barrel down and break Firre's defense and thus force the prince to step back or dodge rather than retaliate. The heat wasn't going away anywhere, either - his heavy armor was still radiating it in intense waves, drying leaves and patches of grass upon mere touch.
"I can see now..." Argo muttered under his breath during the battle. Suddenly, he thrust his shield forth, it painfully slamming into Firre's side and forcing him back. "Your fighting style... it's all simply attempts to overpower a weaker opponent with sheer force. Now that you're fighting someone you cannot simply overwhelm, you're struggling."
Firre raised wood from the earth, entangling Argo's legs - only for a fraction of a second, as it'd simply char to black and break down after touching his armor any longer - and then went for a powerful swing.
It wasn't fast enough.
It pushed against Argo's shield and hardly budged him. After the resounding metal clang, a second of pause settled in the battlefield.
"...that is why you need this war."
Argo's shield rammed right into Firre's face, knocking him back and throwing him to the ground. After lowering it, the Mistralian warrior twirled his spear in his hand and approached the fallen prince, looking down on him and readying to strike.
"This war will make you a warrior. I will drown you in it, just as I've been, whether you want to or-"
"Firre!" a yell came from above. It was Silva. Having evaded the Mantlean soldiers for all this time, she finally found an opportunity to sweep down to help her... ally? She wouldn't have been comfortable enough to call Firre that, but, through circumstance, they've ended up on the same side and him staying alive was key to her staying alive - so she had no other choice but to help him. A sword fashioned out of water was in her right hand, and her pungi-slim sword was in her left. Right as her foot dropped on the dried, scorched grass and she leapt at him, Argo's face gently turned towards her and she swung against the Mistralian's neck with full force.
Rather than cleave through, the water sword turned to steam before it even touched his skin, and Silva instantly witnessed herself swinging with an empty hand.
"Ah, you're that animal," Argo remarked once he looked down and saw the Faunus girl in front of him. He recalled that face, that speck of scales on her cheek that immediately informed that she wasn't human. Whatever was between them, he still wasn't sure what it was, and he was hardly dying to know anyway.
So, he swung with his shield, aiming to smack Silva away - yet, it hit nothing but air, as she had already leapt away and lunged towards Firre instead. Before the prince knew it, he was swept up from his feet and found himself being carried out of the battlefield in a frantic sprint.
"Silva?!" he yelled. "What are you doing?! Let me go!" Silva did not even attempt to, however - she held him even tighter, in fact. Her mind, meanwhile, was nearing breakdown. Oh my gods. Oh my gods. I could have died. I should have died.
"I'm pulling us both out of danger," she finally forced out after a pause. "If you stay there for even a minute longer, he is going to kill you!"
"I don't care!"
"Well, good for you, I don't care what you think either!"
That was uncharacteristically confrontational of her, she quickly realized. However, it worked - the blunt answer shut down Firre's struggling for a bit.
Argo, meanwhile, was taken aback by the woman's move. He ran forward a few steps and screamed:
"Get back here!"
They weren't done! Unfortunately, it was to no avail - and as useful as his heavy armor was in battle, giving chase to someone nimbly leaping over trees and bushes was not one of its strengths. So, Argo stopped, watching the more and more distant speck for a few seconds, gripped with frustration and anger, then turned towards the Mantlean soldiers and shouted:
"Why are you standing around? Move! This damn town isn't going to flatten itself to the ground!" Gods damned worthless Grimm fodder... couldn't even shoot a single damn animal... Had to let the prince get free again...
Silva stopped some distance away from the battle, in a small clearing, and finally lowered Firre to the ground - at which point he immediately pushed himself off her and stepped back. Even as far away as here, the cacophony of war surrounded them from all sides. Distant sounds of musket and rifle fire, yells and shouts came from behind them, and small flashes of light could be seen deep within the trees. Fire. The trees were catching fire. Argo's heat Semblance was one source, but it wasn't alone - the other Mantlean soldiers must have been setting fire to the forest as well. It's unlikely that they were doing so intentionally. They could make an example of Altar by burning it to the ground, but setting the forest itself on fire would not be helpful to them in any way. However, the forest was rather dry, it seemingly hasn't rained for a while, so a poorly aimed Dust shot could easily set something on fire, and there was plenty of fuel for the flame.
"They are... damn it," a frustrated jumble of words forced itself out Firre's mind. Now that he could observe the situation from afar, he could feel that he got himself too engrossed in the single duel with Argo. From the looks of it, the Mantlean troops were still advancing, and whatever the rest of their team was using to delay them was only accomplishing that - delaying the inevitable.
"What now?" Silva asked.
"...Let's retreat back to town. If there are still any stragglers left, we'll need to escort them out as soon as possible. And, if the rest of our team is there, then..."
It wasn't much, but it was a plan. Silva nodded. "Right." She was about to continue and offer a safer path to Altar over the trees, but another anxiety attack suddenly hit her. No, no, forget that. I've already made him mad, he's not even gonna listen to what I say. Taking to the trees and staying off the surface was brushed aside in her mind, and she simply followed after the prince as he ran through the grass and moss.
A few explosions resounded some distance to their left, which briefly forced both of them to halt. Each of them was bright, flashy and of different colors. Firre narrowed his eyes. Dust, I'm sure of it. Either the Mantleans have brought heavy firepower, or Reza just unleashed something big. Before they knew it, a loud yell followed:
"Firre!"
It was Yche - with engorged leg muscles thanks to her Semblance, she was running through the forest with massive steps, closer to leaps with how much distance she would cover with each one. Both of her teammates were on her shoulders. Reza was using it as a ride and was even aiming back with her crossbow, occasionally firing off bolts towards Mantlean soldiers in the distance, each one erupting into either a powerful explosion or a wall of stone to stop their movement. Ashen, meanwhile, was hanging off the other shoulder - her arm was flowing with blood, and she was covering the wound up to stop the bleeding.
Even a child could guess that their side of the fight had not gone well.
"Firre! Firre!" Yche yelled one more time, as soon as she came closer to the prince. "We had to pull back! There were way more of them than we realized, and-"
Firre did not bother to continue listening. "To the town. Now."
"I-uh, on it!"
He said the same to Silva. "Let's go." She merely answered with a nod. From their position, the town was not far off - hell, they could even see the very top of one of the roofs in the distance, barely peeking out from between the tree trunks. Yche was at the front, running faster than Firre or Silva could catch up, and leapt up as soon as she reached the edge of town to land on the roof of her father's house, from which the three girls could observe the urban, tree-dotted landscape.
"Thank the brothers, it seems that everyone's moved towards the mineshaft by now," Yche stated as soon as Firre and Silva reached them and stopped besides them. That didn't mean that the situation was entirely safe and clear, of course. Dozens of spotlights from the floating Mantlean ships above were now focused on the town, serving as a beacon for the advancing troops. Their team's delay action held them back for some time, but at this point, it would only take a minute - a few, at most - for the first white-uniformed soldiers to march into the town's premises and begin searching from house to house. If there were any stragglers, determined to stay in their homes or basements instead of leaving the town they had called home for generations, the time to help them was already up.
The gigantic Mantlean mothership was looming in the distance, as frightening to witness as it always has been. For a second, Firre's eyes glanced towards it. Even if we get back to Vale... can we really take that thing down? Or is it always going to harass us until it crosses the mountains and torches Vale itself...?
Yche wasn't budging. Her eyes became glued to the town panorama.
"We can't... stay here, Yche..." Ashen muttered, her voice somewhat weak. "We need to keep moving..."
"Y-yes, yes, of course..." Yche stammered in response. "It's just... I've always imagined myself stepping up and defending my home, with my life if need be, and that... that's what a Ranger is supposed to be like. Yet, here I am now, running, when those Mantlean dogs are about to march in and set the torch to... my home."
"You're not running, Yche," Firre said as he stopped next to her after a step. "You'll be back. And all together, we'll destroy Mantle and make them pay tenfold."
But until then, Suchan awaits.