TANG!
Christophe's axe broke, the head of the silver implement shattering it into several pieces only to leave his hands clutching what basically amounted to a bow staff in some attempt to block the incoming blow. A halo of light lit up the area from behind him, a relieved grin overcame the young lord's previously grim expression as the temperature dropped. A miniature Blizzard coming to life for a single instant. Several shards of ice whizzed through air as they embedded themselves into the chest of the myrmidon before he could finish bringing his blade down onto the noble.
LEVEL UP!
[15]
HP: 34 + 1 | Mv: 5
Str: 16 + 0 | Lck: 15 + 1
Mag: 23 + 0 | Def: 13 + 0
Dex: 13 + 1 | Res: 15 + 1
Spd: 20 + 1 | Cha: 9 + 0
"As good of a day to die as this is," My snark largely went ignored as Christophe finished off his assailant with a jab to the face and sending the unfortunate dastard sprawling. I flipped the grip I had on my blade to offer its handle to my disarmed friend as I passed by him. The mana bathing the metal in a sheen of shocking might fizzled out to reveal a spiderweb of cracks from channeling electricity directly into the steel blade, "Can I not be left with all the work you have yet to do?"
"For your [information], I [believe] that I've downed at least three more than you have. Gah," Christophe let off a pained hiss when he took my sword in hand, almost dropping the blade as he secured a grip on the leather handle. Doing so as I rested my tome decorated by a snowflake in my dominant hand, "Plus is this really all you have, Adolf?"
"You lost your own, now take it or fuck off. This is not the time," The second after the words left my lips filled the uncomfortable feeling of having been far too harsh. Though to be fair, we were in the middle of a fight for our lives and the feeling fled in favor of taking in our situation. "Oh, and back up will you?"
As far as ambushes go, it wasn't terribly one sided. . . for us that is to say. With a stone bridge in noticeably worsened state blowing up just as one of Christophe's cavaliers led the way. Better to lose 1 and get some forewarning than to let the main convoy end up setting off the trap, such was my rationalization as the situation quickly deteriorated. Blessed are we then, to not have been assaulted by raiders with any flyers to ruin our rallying of a defense.
Now if only I could get Christophe to stay in formation.
"For the record," Christophe had taken the vanguard position, quickly rallying his squad to hit the enemy. Personally would've preferred that he had simply teamed up with his father to protect the convoy's flank, as opposed to assist me. Even if the majority seemed to be trying to attack me at the convoy's rear. "Your [section] is [already] thin as it stands. I had that fight [handled], you didn't need to [intervene]."
We managed to rebuff the bandit's initial rush, and through some help from Christophe's vanguard force forced them to regroup for now. The rest of his guard moved on to support those defending the convoy's flanks, leaving us to hold the rear alone.
"So well in fact that I had to help you, yes? I think it is best you not give them even one free hit," My eyes caught sight of his own blood leaking down his chest from a cut against his neck, moving before him to examine the wound. Sending a wave of mana through the wound, and feeling just how much blood is flowing out of his jugular. The young lord shrugged off my hand that had been taking a measure of his pulse, "Get a quick heal from Sal 'for it gets worse."
Should've paid more attention in anatomy, but it doesn't look too bad from what I can tell.
"Are you insane! Do you think so little of me," Christophe snapped, stowing my blade and gestured wildly. , "To allow you to stand alone and [vulnerable] when you need my [support] the most, I am no crazen [bastard]. I'm sta-"
This fantasy knight honor bond fucking moron.
"No," I snarled out the words, my grasping his hurt shoulder and squeezing down as I issued my order to him. A thick layer of irritation coating my words along with a sliver of my own mana let loose through my lips, "Do as I say, or I will drag you back with but my own two hands."
"Fie! I yield," The man yelped, flinching back from the painful sensation and started to roll his shoulder to alleviate the pain. The young lord turning his back on the battlefield on my orders, "[Goddess], relax man I have seen reason. You- gah- might have a point there."
A cheeky grin remained on the man's face as he left, "Don't have too much fun [without] me! I'll be right back!"
This place was safe for now.
. . .
The first thing I identified was that this was a safe place, a fortress really, but that would not be entirely accurate if the beautiful murals and sculpted stone work was anything to go by. A pair of silent knights swung the huge doors open, polished wood shining by the light pouring through indicated panes of stained glass.
"[Welcome] back Lonoto, there is no need for such [formalities] on this eve Orion," His majesty welcomed us with a strong yet gentle tone, golden hair cleanly combed back with a budding bread hugging his jawline. Waving off one his knights that had stayed at our side with a scroll unfurled before him. The palace echoed the king's voice throughout the entire building and seemed to make the perceivable world brighter, "Fair [weather traevels] I hope? I'm sure [Dimitri] will enjoy [haeving] some [company] around his aege."
I'd been to a palace before, admitted more of my time was spent touring its dungeon but still. When it comes to comparison though, the best way to frame the building was a mix between a roman cathedral and a fantastical european castle. Intricate banners featuring various houses or knightly orders line the hall, and what must have been the royal crest was held aloft behind his throne.
Honestly he was the picture perfect specimen of an Aryan ruler, and the austrian in me was glad we weren't on earth anymore. His accent was of a rougher sort, reminding me in some respect of the slavic languages back home.
"We had to deal with some [miscreants] on the way but," A gruff voice with hints of levity responded to the king, graying hair with a few strands pooling off to the side. The paladin bowed his head as he approached his liege, "It was [largely] smooth [sailing] once we passed into [Blaiddyd]. Our [arrival orchestrated] in small part due to my son's band of merry men."
"You have my utmost [apologies], my [knights] have been busy [clearing] up some [disputes] along the [Duscurian militarized] zone. . . Hhmm," His majesty had a pondering look in his eyes, half focused on something far off into the distance before returning to the present. Christophe temporarily bowed his head deeper at being addressed even as a bead of sweat trailed down my neck, "[Perhaps] I should [reconsider] your [proposition], [Christophe]. [However], such things aere better left for [another] time and I do spy a few new faeces [amongst] your [entourage]."
It was a different feeling to being stalked, but the immense amount of light made me feel far too vulnerable. The air wasn't thick with tension, but I almost wish that my lung was being clogged with smoke instead.
"I would love to speak [further] with you on such topics your [majesty]," Christophe seemed to perk up, standing straighter as he spoke with his majesty. His father seemingly handing over the reins of the conversation as the king's attention shifted over to his son, "But indeed, we have more [pressing matters] to attend to. You have set before you, your royal [highnesses Edelgard] and [Benedikta] von [Hraesvelg] of the [Adrestrian] throne, your [majesty]."
My heart remained steady for as long as the king's eye stayed on the others, all the while I used all of my strength to keep myself from anxiously tapping my leg. Carefully pacing my breaths to keep the ache in my chest at a minimum, with an absence of familiar adrenaline that would usually come along with combat to help me to cope with the pain.
"It is a [pleasure] to be in your [majesty's] holy [presence] once again," Edi curtsied, stepping forward to drop into a waist deep bow before the azure king. Coming back up to beckon Burni forward with an outstretched hand for her more visibly anxious sibling, "My sister and I do wish that we could have met under far more [palatable circumstances]."
"[Must've] been but ae season since the last time I've seen you laest young lady, and maey that extend to your sister too. [Though] if I maey be so bold aes to aesk," The king leaned forward, visibly brightening up as he seemingly realized something based on what had been said. His question left a nervous tremor to pass through Burni, looking to me to try and get out of the awkward spotlight. I tried to return with what I thought was a reassuring smile that I felt was not nearly enough to help, "Would I be [correct] in [assuming] that your uncle would [normally] be [accompanying] you on such aen [occasion]? I aesk out of [concern] for your [saefety]."
"Y-your [consideration] is grel- greatly [appreciated] but. . . [ultimately unnecessary], your [majesty]. We do not intend on [returning] to the empire at the [present] time," At the slight prompting of her sister, Burni spoke up to reply to the king despite the clear trembling to be heard in her voice. The second half switched back to Edi's more confident and practiced voice, "And [certainly] not with our uncle. And we wish to plead our case for [seeking sanctuary] within your lands. Asylum from our [pursuers], and as the [fountain] and source of all [dignity] would [impress] upon my sister and I your mercy."
"Ah. . . Maey I say how [fortunate] aere we to meet once more," Something about the beautiful murals craved the castle's roof drew away the king's attention, forcing him to contemplate a subject unknown to anyone else here. His majesty's voice taking on a more exhausted tone as he pulled his gaze back to face Edi as he replied to her request, "The [goddess] doth maeke such [strange exceptions] for those she favors. Your [highnesses], know that I aect with no mael intent, but it is with a heavy heart tha-"
"[Edelgard]?"
Burni almost set her and her sister tumbling to the ground from the fright that she'd been given, the tension having her shake like a leaf. A set of mahogany double doors swung out in earnest, revealing a different section of the castle from which two women arrived from. Chatting, arm in arm with a lady, was a noblewoman dressed in the finest silks I'd ever seen and a thick scarf around neck. Her companion's visage faded into the background, though the impression of a terse grin attempting to be calm remained in my mind.
I almost could've sworn that she had been trying to pull the woman off to the side down the hall away from here.
An uneasy case of jitters overcame me at the sight of the queen, feeling as if my fingernails were crawling with ants underneath them. I'd really gone far too long without my meds, or a strong drink.
"H-how?!" Weeping and walking forward on shaky steps that bordered on a full sprint if not for her dress getting in the way. The hems of her fine silk lifted up so she could get to 'Edegard' just a second faster as if the difference mattered above all else in the world. Her majesty knelt down to meet Edi face to face, while Burni ran back to my side as the pressure had seemed finally gotten to the poor girl. The older woman with a silver circlet adorning her head embraced the sputtering young girl, "Oh [goddess forgive] me, I [thought] that I would never see you again."
"Uh, ex- excuse me- excuse em, your majes-!"
"I am so sorry my dear [daughter], I hope that you have it in you to forgive me or grow to at least [understand] one day. Even in the case if you do not," It was hard to tell which of the two were more impassioned, with her majesty seemingly on the verge of tears and Edi's usually calm demeanor sent crashing with the conversation being interrupted. Both of them seemed to share the same button nose, straight hair even while the queen's were bright brown and the Edi's a cold albino white. Edi- no Edelgard's eyes seemed to become unfocused and grew hazy as some sort of realization seemed to hit her, "But please [believe] me when I say that I will never leave you. Never again."
My heart rate jumped at the Queen's words, and my lung ached from the sudden breath I sucked in. Those eyes of mine tried to see into the King's soul to gleam his thoughts on this, all I found was a conflicted expression, and one filled with regret. The hand I'd kept on my broken knife tightened.
. . .
Shit.
"Leave no man to die!"
Shards of ice sprouted from the earth, three enemies, a mix of martial classes were stopped dead in their tracks. Effectively frozen in place by the various icy spears embedded into their chests, and legs as my white magic circle pulsed with mana. About six fellow souls from my former squad of twenty remained to hear the commands that I shouted forth, "Let them take, not one more life and not one more step!"
Things, things had not gone well at all.
What remained of my forces were right beside me, and those too injured had been dragged back to the convoy. Frustration had grown as the battle went on, their second attempt going much better than the first. Bearing a strategy with a horrifying level of effectiveness.
"[They're hitting] us again!" We had scrambled a decent defense all things considered, but their was only so much you can do whilst outnumbered. They peppered me with cavaliers, all baring a higher level of resistance to my magic as they pushed us back. All whilst having one of my soldiers go from watching my back to beamed directly into a clump of enemies only to be ganged up on and butchered wasn't exactly. . . good for mental health I imagine. The last dying screams of the young men under my command would be especially hard to erase.
The less said about the rest of the dead, the better.
If I had the means to stop the men under my command from being ganked, I probably would've fucking employed it by now. Too many myrmidons ended up slipping through for my liking, and trying to stop them meant allowing the cavaliers to chip away at me. Neither were preferable, but I had a dwindling supply of healing items. The hate I held for these fuckers built up for every life they plucked from me, and it took everything to restrain myself to keep what was left from being routed.
Those damn monks had been the final factor to tip the scales in their favor. I didn't recognize the staves in their grip, and our defense crumbled once the teleportations started going off. Plain and simple? It was bullshit, I imagine that Christophe would've called it dishonorable.
Might not have had it in me to stop him from going in ax-point first.
I took a sort of instinctual glee with every one of their lives I was able to claim in term, a pleasant warmth settled inside of my chest after an icicle lodged within one of theirs. Clamping down on that feeling was of the utmost importance, otherwise I'd drown in the glorious satisfaction of tearing these right bastards apart. Getting sloppy, or overextending was simply not a risk that I could afford to take.
Holding back, being careful had us lose so much ground in the beginning that we soon ran out of space to back into. Nearly shoulder to shoulder with the various fighters armed with a mix of bows, axes and some strange looking gauntlets. Admittedly, the glorified metallic boxing gloves seemed to be more effective than I'd initially wager for them to reasonably be. Again, weird almost Fire Emblem fantasyland.
The staves (and magic in general) really have me thinking of Elder Scrolls more instead.
Course the details matter little when you're desperately trying to keep your position from being overwhelmed by a swarm of criminal degenerates. My focus had to remain on conjuring spikes of ice, acting as makeshift Czech hedgehogs against the enemy cavalry while those under my command did their best to prevent their advance.
Even so, our best was insufficient to halt their advance. Becoming more focused on self preservation by harassing any mage attempting to cast before one of ours could be taken. We couldn't realistically stop them once they turned their attention towards using those very same teleportation spells on those within the last cart of the caravan.
We got lucky, the ambitious mages aiming for someone weaker than themselves ended up receiving a mix of blades and teeth to their neck. Of all of our noncombatants that could've been taken they had drawn the short straw by getting Anna to appear before them wielding a silver short sword.
My wolves appeared for the others, catching them off guard expecting to find humans only for their legs to be bit into.
She didn't stay for long to help us deal with them, as the realization set in that they could send one of theirs if they could so easily take one of ours. Didn't take much for her to get the message that if they could get through us with magic, that they would brute force their way past me or one of the others, and that someone had to be ready in order to mount some last ditch effort of a defense.
My wolves, well, they'd take significant effort to dismiss once they had figured out that their master was in need of some back up. And at this point, I was more than willing to let it slide to at least buy myself some breathing room. The three of them had grown to be about the size of a german shepard even though I'd had them for about a month. Despite my better judgment, I had them confront the enemies closest to me so that I could work with my team to kill off the cavaliers in their hit and run strikes.
Some degenerate corner of my brain cackled to see them tag team a single mercenary, two of them distracting while the third tore into his leg to bring him to the floor.
These were slavers, their methods being perfectly suited for capture orientated goals. I had expected such a thing, but it had taken a drastic turn from what I had imagined. That being serfs, or just straight up indentured servitude.
Hunters this competent wouldn't do this, or shouldn't considering how armed our group was. There was too much I couldn't parse from this attack, with how my growing headache was taking up the majority of my focus as the fight went on.
It was no wonder how some seemingly less important detail would manage to slip my notice.
Burning hands shook painfully in the arctic air that I'd brought forth as a magical byproduct, my heart and lung beating desperately trying to keep up with the physical demands of the fight. Sweat should've drenched my back at this point, my robes certainly wouldn't help had I gone with anything but to cast ice magic. We pushed a hole through the enemies line, and while my men dealt with the mages that had to overextend into our defense line. My magic went into overdrive, to set up the necessary kill zones for my people to take advantage of.
The few horsemen foolish enough to approach had been launched into the air as their steeds died from the impalements. Left in the perfect position for me to finish them off with a series of spikes to follow up with after being severely dazed. Effectiveness shone through when we managed to kill off the squad of mages that had attempted to land a series of successful capture spells. Looting a staff off of one that they had been equipped with, taking it with me for experimentation when I had the time to do so.
It was only once I had taken the staff from the slain mage's still warm hands that I felt a stab of pain lodge itself deep inside of my chest. My heart skipped a beat as a pained gasp left my lips.
My limbs slackened, and my legs buckled under the pressure long enough for me to fall to my knees. Every ounce of effort put into keeping track of my pulses and telemetry to process the battlefield as it changed around me, broke as I nearly collapsed onto the floor. I held myself up by planting the staff into the ground, hanging off of it as I regained feeling in my extremities with my vision swamped with bright dots.
What-
. . .
Choking sobs, and agonized cries were the only sounds to escape the lips of the distraught queen.
Edi mattered greatly to her majesty, even lacking the exact details as to why that may be. It was hard to watch, a level of maternal heartache could be clearly felt at the display that made it awkward to be witness to. Edelgard's own stunned expression was on that had been buried within the queen's scarf, "What?"
The princesses eyes poked up from underneath their place at the crook of her mother's neck, appearing to be glazed over and out of focus. A look that whispered that she wasn't entirely 'there', but the tears leaking forth spoke heavily about where her thoughts truly lay.
Funny how we get so lucky to realize how much the people in our lives mean to us. For some the feeling never comes, or never comes a knocking at all, but saddest of all is when it arrives after they're gone. It's not often that we get a second chance to be with our loved ones.
I tried to focus on everyone and everything but the emotional scene happening before me. Would it be rude to think that the situation that I'd found myself in was awkward as hell? Probably. My hands idly brushing a stray hair away from Burni-, no, Benedikta's face and placing it behind her ear. Both of them have a family of their own, lingering would do more harm than it would any good to possibly come out from such an attachment. Not like really sticking around for much longer anyway, this was always going to end with us parting ways sooner or later.
I wasn't one to judge the emotional state of a monarch in land that I was not raised in, this was plenty nerving racking with the sporadic glances I made towards the king. Course as heartwarming of a scene that this all was, I was freaking the fuck out right now. Fuck me, I need a drink.
While I certainly don't have a death wish, and would prefer to not be hanged for treason. Assuming my lying eyes weren't deceiving me, as one of the kids I had been protecting was considered dear enough to a QUEEN of a different nation for her to openly and brazenly embrace. To consider family. Pretty sure that I hadn't done something to warrant an execution but I'd rather not test why the children of the queen were such a contentious issue for his majesty.
My mind just flailed around for some sort of explanation, grasping at straws while my heart raced. Twin wolves sat at my sides, tails still and ears pinned back, simply waiting for a command in order to jump into action at a moment's notice. The third, nowhere to be seen.
Which if his majesty rising from his throne to oh so casually approach us was anything to go by, might still be on the table. A jab of adrenaline shot down my veins as my mind whirred to life, preparing a string of pleas or explanations to avoid a straight up execution. Even Christophe standing here to my right could be seen sweating it up beneath his chipped platemail and expensive silk clothing. My own coat felt far too stuffy as the king approached.
His majesty's gaze flashed over to briefly meet my eyes, a single moment that stole away my ability to breathe, but returned just quickly when eye contact was broken to squint at something on my chest. The metallic seals pinned to my left breast burned my skin from the attention, my ribcage creaked painfully as he turned his attention away from me.
My knees locked up for too long, the circulation in my legs bringing a looming sense of nausea that made me ache to empty my stomach of today's breakfast.
Blood could be felt being pumped throughout my blackened hands, my heart dropping into my stomach at the sudden weightlessness falling over me as I collapsed on the ground. My spare arm swung out to grasp my right leg to keep me face planting the floor by holding a single one of my knees propped up against the granite tiles. It felt like a million miles away that I heard Benedikta squeak as she backed up, and for Anna to mutter a comforting word as she took her from my side.
I should've been kneeling from the fucking beginning, why didn't I do so to begin with?
It had taken me an embarrassing amount of time to realize that the seals, the magical video game defining seals pinned onto my clothing. Those damn seals depicted eagles clutching a stalk of wheat. Still held the same insignia for the soldiers of a nation I had likely just fled, how could I be such a fucking idiot. I could still run, still do something.
Why had these damn kids been stuck in torture chamber of prison complex?
Did I fail to mention that we're in a castle, one with a veritable army likely under his sole command. This was a great, fantastic situation to find myself in. If the caught off guard look that her husband and KING had on was anything to go by, well, today isn't the worst day to die I suppose.
The whole place made escaping from a strangely under guarded mansion with the cover of a thunderstorm look like a walk in the park by comparison.
I'm good. I know I'm good. This is fine, we're just a single door and about 200 feet from the main road away before we can get back into the relative safety of the city. In broad daylight, with a city likely chalk full of the king's guard within what was very much possibly this nation's capital.
Maybe hiding would prove more effective.
"[Salutations] aere in order, I [believe]. It is good thaet you aend [Cornelia] haeve chosen to graece us with your [presence]," His highness mercifully shattered the silence as he placed a comforting hand on his spouse's shoulder, breaking my train of thought devolving any further. Clinging onto any detail either of their majesty's mention something that would lead the conversation down toward becoming significantly more. . .
Abusive.
Please be a foreign nation kidnapping another nation's royalty and not infidelity, please be a foreign nation kidnapping another nation's royalty and not infidelity, please be a foreign nation kidnapping another nation's royalty and not infidelity.
"I'm sorry [Lambert], but I can't do this [anymore]. I can't choose to live like this if my [daughter] has to go [through] the [terrible suffering] the [traitors] at [Ionius' jugular] might have in store for her. [Lambert] please-"
Oh, fuck, that really doesn't sound good.
"Patr- I- Peace wife. I haeve no wish for ill will," , 'Lambert' seemed to back off after seeming to catch sight of something that the queen missed. With Edelgard's face burying itself deeper into her shoulder as the rest of him body stilled, her chest didn't even seem to be taking in any new breaths. The king knelt down to kiss his wife before standing back up, "There will be no action taken today, if there is aeny sort of [decision] to be maede on [matters] such as these. Doing so with [emotions running] so high would only be ae [reckless detriment]."
"[Lambert]!"
"[Besides]," His tone became lighter, much more loving as he pulled her face before she could try to hide the blush creeping down her neck. Her outrage yell rang in my ears, lingering in my mind as my insistent panicking worsened. Lambert gently reminded Patricia as he turned his back to her to face us. "It [appears] that yet to [address] one of yours, [Patricia]."
"Lonato," A half dose of relief rushed down my veins as his attention shifted off of me once more, the dread building as with the idea that the next time he'd speak at me would be the last words I'd hear. His query left a lump in my throat as implications ran wild in my mind, "How much longer will you be [staying]?"
'Living'
"My [business] with Count [Galatea] will last but until the [wyverns] take their last breath," Lonato happily replied, the voice of the jovial older man soothing me for the few seconds that they lasted. My own breaths came in short desperate gasps of which I did everything in my power to muffle any sounds from being released, in turn desperate to avoid drawing attention.
Christophe then just chose the worst time to pile on to the conversation, which wasn't hard considering that there would have been no good opportunities to do so. An almost giddy level of competitive spirit flowed from his lips, "I'll [assemble] my [shepards] for a proper [demonstration] later [tonight] if you'd so desire."
"Hmpf, it haes been nearly aen aege since I laest got into ae good scraep. Be sure to show me ae good fight," His majesty's voice boomed in the echo provided by the great hall, thick with confidence as he replied to Christophe's offer. Taking a half step closer he called out to one of his knights waiting in the relative darkness provided by one of the supportive pillars. "Aend [Ferdinand], give them ae tour of the palace. Be sure to haend them the keys to their rooms if you will."
"As you desire my liege," Less armored than the actual knights standing guard around us, a boy with a sheathed blade stepped forward. He was so young, yet tall for his age with a headful of ginger hair that was more boyish than manly with the approximate years that seem within reason to assume. Something in between a knight and squire maybe?
I could've sworn that his knight's garb flashed out of existence to be replaced by a strange outfit reminiscent of students back home, the change reverting back so fast that it left me unsure of my own sanity. The young man gave his spear a twirl as he beckoned the others to follow him, "If we're quick we can all get [something] from the [kitchens] before things get too hectic!"
A shadow fell over me, forcing me to tilt my head back to properly gaze up at the person before.
Her majesty stood above me, a mixed feeling of stress and relief shot through my body as a terrible sort of restlessness that had bound itself to me finally lessened. Her scarf was gone, her visage of a monarch in mourning lost in their own grief. And that realization sounded a death knell that could only be read by my soul. Thoughts of horrid things appeared in my mind like a vengeful god as my heart beat raced out of sync with itself.
My brain too sick with the tension in my bones for me to issue a final prayer. The Queen's words fully occupied what was left of my ability to think clearly, "Rise for me."
. . .
I had fallen into quicksand dragging me deeper into worse hyperventilations, or at least that was how it felt to be as I lay on my hands and knees. The sensation of sinking into hell never faded.
A wave of brief confusion washed over me as my body and mind failed to register how such a minor blow had forced me to take a knee. The pain was a distant feeling in my chest, like there was a layer of separation to the sensation even as I found it almost impossible to breathe. I groped my own torso and chest, patting my body down for an entry wound but found nothing to explain the cause. Everything outside drowned out by the frantic efforts I made to find the thing killing me from the inside out.
My ability to breath spiraled out of control as I realized that I was going to die here.
Pure dumb luck allowed me to catch sight of one of my wolves walking towards me, my eyes dilated so much that I could tell him apart by the gray pattern coloring his coat. Far too drained to tell that he was swaying on his four feet, globes of saliva falling from its open jaw. The glint of something bright caught my eye as it was flying through the air, my mind too punch drunk to process what I was seeing.
The young canine stumbled back from the shot, shaking its head before it collapsed onto the ground. Legs splayed out before it as the arrow snapped in two as he finally crashed onto the ground, releasing a whimper that managed to pierce the veil I was under. Even so, a pit opened up in my stomach as the object disappeared against the canine's belly and sent my wolf sprawling.
Watching it happen right in front of me was only the final nail in the coffin.
The bindings that I had felt constricting my chest snapped, freeing my lung to finally breathe deeply and freely for once. Making a world of difference as my near death grip on the staff in my hands loosened. The weight around my neck was cut loose, with my body finally able to take in a deep breath the instant that my dog's head hit the floor.
The backlash from our connection was suddenly severed by the time of the canine's death, and with it I was able to finally get back up onto my own two feet. My previous nausea obfuscating my ability to think melted away from the heat of a tiny, yet increasing ball of hatred. This was something I felt from within the depths of bones with complete certainty, and I loathed that fact. It was sobering to take my first steps, limping along while wobbling back and forth from the jelly feeling seemed to replace the firm muscle in my legs.
Of my own volition, while in total control I willed myself to drop to knees when I reached the corpse of my dead friend. Seeing my fucking dog's neck slit upon, red painting the lush green grass only for it pool around the body. Soaking into the fur of his chest that given up on the task of breathing just before I reached him, nothing but the bodies last tremors remained. Blood mixed with spittle as his gave his last attempts, cradling his head in my hands I knew it had been a slow and painfully death
There was no use trying to fumble around for a vulnerary, keeping track during the battle meant that I already knew that I had run out long ago. I found a second arrow not long after, lodged into his side between the gap of his ribs and soft underbelly. Ripping the offensive object from his corpse revealed a barbed tip, prompting a fresh gush of warm blood in the same action.
How typical.
A new pain blossomed in my heart, of a special sort of agony that was distinctly outraged and worked to boil the blood flowing through my veins. There was too much power to hold, and I was too distraught to notice how my prana violently attacked the mana in the air. It latched onto everything, from the cloth that made up my clothing to the metal that forged the backbone of the stolen staff laying in the grass next to me.
I was operating off of autopilot, stuck in a daze fumbling around for the staff and taking into both of my hands even as an actual arrow hit my own back. My mind was too clouded for me to feel the pain but still registered the projectile as it shook my chest upon impact. Mere tinder to the growing fire, unneeded yet greedily devoured all the same to fuel the rage building inside me.
Cracks appeared across the face of the staff, my hands clenched so tightly that the metal bent and started to break under my very fingers. Weeds and thick grass both withered as silver staff in my hands cracked under my emotionally intensified grip. The air cracked with a bright flash, with the thunderous clap going off as the light dimmed for the man to materialize before me. The perpetrator's self satisfied visage whitened upon catching sight of me, fumbling with bow to notch another arrow from his half emptied quiver.
He never got the opportunity.
"You shot my dog," A deadly calm swept over me as my magic coiled around my clenched fists. Lunging at the sniper, abandoning the sizzling metal staff as I went for a tackle. The silver staff that had aided me finally exploded as the dense mana overloading the metal framework from the inside out, "YOU SHOT MY FUCKING DOG!"
I slugged him across the face, pulling him to the ground with a hand wrapped around his arm. The odor of meat cooking wafted up to me as my hands became singed from being in such close proximity to flames. Mostly blind to the bits of self inflicted pain, my adrenaline was pumping in full force as I brought my forehead down on the poachers nose. Further down I stomped down on the man's knee for which I was rewarded with a sickening crack.
My ears had never heard such beautiful notes, nor more of a vibrant chorus as it was soon followed by the man's screams.
Traitorous energy flowed through my veins, begging me to put dark power to its full use, but I strangled the temptation from within its cradle. He needed to die slowly, nothing else would suffice, and nothing less than that would meet my standards. Gripping the fingers of one of his hands as I snapped digits in the opposite direction they had been designed to bend, another score of screaming vibrated throughout my chest.
"God fucking damnit," My temper burst, a near incoherent string of feral thoughts beat their demands into my skull. An offhand grabbed him by his scalp while the other wormed it's way inside of his mouth, "Just die already!"
A moment's breath was taken, readjusting to take a firm grip of his skull's frontal process.
I dared not stop even when I heard a sharp but quiet crack come from his skull. Not even when the man desperately started to even use his damaged hand to uselessly struggle against my iron hold over him.
Releasing a breath that I had been keeping, my entire body tensed for what I was about to do, and I pulled.
LEVEL UP!
[16]
HP: 35 + 1 | Mv: 5
Str: 16 + 1 | Lck: 16 + 0
Mag: 23 + 1 | Def: 13 + 0
Dex: 14 + 0 | Res: 16 + 1
Spd: 21 + 1 | Cha: 9 + 1
The exertion left me out of breath, clutching the broken off fragment of the bastard's skull as my heart raced too fast for my mind to keep track of. Bloodlust occupied the place inside of my lung where oxygen ought to rightfully be, power in its purest form ran through my veins.
That being, Rage.
A dead man's fingers that had been desperately digging into my skin suddenly fell limp, the flesh around my arm that was holding his scalp blemished with faint marks of red.
Now freed from the rest of his skull, a grim satisfaction filled me to see the liquified sludge that replaced where I expected his frontal cortex to reside. Like some sick sort of trophy, the entire front side of the man's face had been ripped off and lay in my main hand. His lower jaw only held on by a few stray tendons that managed to escape being warped by the heat.
When my hatred waned, it did so only long enough for my sanity to gain the temporary war over my mind. I caught brief flashes of my dogs shaking violently, growling as they ripped apart any foe who dared strike at my flanks. Wisps of purple smoke drifting off into the open air.
The strangeness of it brought out a hysterical laugh out of me, a broken and empty sounding thing. My amusement briefly shattered the hold my own hate held over me, sharpening my eyesight and focus into a blade. One that I was about to use more akin to a club and soon lose again, but nevertheless serving its purpose.
"Bastard of a parisian whore," I spat out the words, dropping the piece of his skull that I had broken in the midst of burning rage and crushed it under my boot. Ignorant to the golden light that briefly flickered above my head. Whilst reining in my anger for a few moments longer I barked out orders to whoever remained, "You six! Hang back, and let none get past you."
It was only after the intense hatred that I held for these vermin returned that I finally took in a new breath. The last silver of my sane mind wondering aloud about how I had gone so long without noticing.
. . .
I dared not breathe.
Shakily I rose to my feet with her hand on my arm, a small mercy that served to anchor me in the here and now. Her gaze seemed barely less piercing than her husbands, yet more discerning as she lay a soft touch to comb through my unruly hair. Significantly longer now than it had originally been when I first arrived in this disaster prone shithole.
"Thank you for [keeping] them safe on my behalf," A hint toward a more intrinsic part of her accent slipped through as she bent forward to speak into my ear. Of the other nation but held pieces of a southern drawl as she joked with me with tears in her violet eyes, "I fear that there is little that I can do to repay you for your [service]. Ionius would be able to reward you [greatly] if you could [manage] to avoid the seven like you have before, but I could give you a [haircut] if you so wish?~"
"Pefhph, haahah! No. I think it is best for a long life that I do not go back to that place," A tone of light hearted emptiness came with my laughter, long since too tired to truly care about anything anymore. I think she had been the first to notice all the broken pieces, what remained being the vital components of my very being to keep trudging forward. My face felt naked before her prying eyes staring into my very soul, "And how could I turn down such an offer. . . I'll be in your care I guess?"
"Stay for a while, take it not as an order from your [emperor] or queen, but as a favor to a sinner so [undeserving] of such. Please? Tell me of my dau- [daughters]," As she spoke every word seemed to break her down a little bit more inside, taking a nervous look over her shoulder and seeing her friend far from us at the doorway she continued. Gazing down at Edelgard who finally lay dreaming peacefully for once in her mother's warm embrace, "Of all the things that you can recall for which a better mother [would've] been [present] for."
An overwhelming sense of shame and guilt mixed itself into her visage, a painful look belong measure waiting for an answer. My sense of duty latched onto it in turn, with strength in my legs that barely surpassed that of a newborn calf I knelt before her once again.
Of my own volition this time, a hardened steel reinforced my previously weaker voice.
In spite of having taken her hand in mine, the simple task of my lips parting from the back of her hand stretched on far too long in my mind. My thoughts, a turbulent sea during a summer storm, while my blood pressure spiked painfully even as I knelt before her majesty. Fingers that felt so cold in my grip despite the blood running through my neck and in my face started to burn.
Through it all I spoke an oath that I had heard Christophe recite around camp as but one part of the fantastical stories he adored to retell, to the amusement of the men and children. Such words that a certain quote had gotten stuck to the point of ringing true in my very bones, "My magic is a beast to fight your wars, my blade arm a tool to forge your better morrow, and my life? It is yours to break for peace's sake."
With her free hand her majesty clutched her mouth, trying to keep herself from laughing aloud. Some success was found, only for her to give me a sympathetic look as she looked down upon me and met my exasperated one. Giving me the slack I had been nonverbally asking for.
"Hahah, really? I've not heard such a [heartfelt recitation] of [Mein Kampf's second] act since my days spent in the opera," A real grin adorned her face this time, not a fake smile like mine made to disarm the worries of loved ones. Her laughter lightly jostled Edelgard, and the girl unconsciously tightened the grip she had on her mother. Rolling her eyes at me. The Queen replied to me with lines that I had become familiar with, "Shine [forever] a gem under the light of the [goddess eternal]. Ah, what fun has this day been, no? Do tell, what is your name dear mage? And do not make me pry for any [answers]."
My lips feeling dry, it passed my notice that I had passed my tongue over them in my nervousness. The anxiety far more manageable now than it had ever been for the past week, and so I answered her with something approaching glee or pride.
"Al- Alcides. You may refer to me as Alcides, my queen."
"At ease, until such time I need you at arms."
. . .
I had nothing left.
My existence as a figurative yet literal tank was practically running on fumes once I was done beating slavers to death. Allowing their pleas for mercy to fall upon deaf ears. Rage had run out as slower than I had hoped, even lingering like a poison once I was in the presence of my allies. Coming out of my adrenaline rush while magic reinforced my every action came with great difficulty. Feeling closer to death than I'd ever been as I relied on such unnatural hate to drive me forward, my flesh thick like wax as my final defense against the enemy.
Anger always seemed simmered under the surface. For that, I judged it best to avoid risking harm to anyone else, taking a moment to myself in the forest with my dogs.
There was nothing left for me to do, armor to melt or warp under the force of my magic, and no more flesh remained to be torn apart with my bare hands. Blackened flakes of my fingernails remained, charred keratin that gave off no shine or sign of reflect of light. Stretches of my own flesh from my fingertips to my wrist bore ugly shades of black and purple, hidden beneath carefully wrapped pale medical bandages.
My hands aching from being used to channel so much magic from a point blank distance, but at least not bleeding anymore thanks to Anna's efforts. While my body was still sore a day after the fight had been one, my mind was still on high alert looking out for human shadows amongst the trees.
There was too much anxiety with nowhere for it all to go, and I had no faith that I wouldn't start babbling incoherently if I entrusted my sick mind to speak freely. So I left. We had stopped to camp a bit further down the river, had I been in better shape I would probably be marching alongside Christophe. He'd been tasked with finding a gap in the river, some unobstructed path we could use to continue traveling north.
I have no God to guide me back or to provide me with final rites, but getting back home would only ever be a matter of time. None of it mattered, for it was only one day, this single day that I aimed to dig a grave. There was no place for god here, for him to hang around and gloat as he haunted one of his most foul sinners.
Even so I need only time to complete such tasks. Time that I was quickly running out of, feeling as if that last battle had aged me a dozen years in my efforts to survive. Needing so much more to accomplish such monumental efforts that would be necessary later, but a grave is no such monumental thing.
I had no shovel, but that didn't matter. I still had my hands, and plenty of anger with nowhere else to go. My god's involvement in such a task only served as an afterthought considering the monumental efforts that would be necessary to return home.
I will have no respite from this fresh hell, and the truth was that the dead had no need for our last considerations. Kind words to me had been met with a glare, my anger latching onto anyone for some desperate form of release. Nothing could lessen the sense of finality that had claimed my soul, nothing short of an act belonging to a god beyond my own grip on magic.
The pain in my hands was nearly overwhelming, but I ignored it far easier with some work to keep me occupied. Even as the dry dirt that my fingers were numb from digging through the ground became wet with my blood. My pups kneeling beside their dead siblings in the fresh grass, their graying coats continued to stick out to me as they grew older. With the sun the world became brighter, but even with more light the muddy grays merely stood out all that much more to me.
I couldn't find it in me to care anymore, my desire to fight on thickly bound up with the wrappings that concealed my dead pup's corpse from view.
Bile built up in my maw, but nothing came up as I despite my dry heaving within that forest's hidden clearing.
Note:
Fuck
My brain hurts after doing so much revision for the dialogue.
Pretty satisfied with the end result though, got into a bit of what do you call it? The Zone, and finished up a bunch of this.
There's plenty of banter in this chapter that I'm really feeling good on how I executed it, but the romance bit feels a bit more contrived. Might just be the perfectionist in me though. I've not written a lot of romance so the out of place feeling from the king and queen might come off wrong, then again their whole romance is weird as fuck to begin with so. . . I'm taking a small liberty with Anselma/Patricia and going with the idea that most people who even know about Patricia know that she and Lambert are lovers. Maids talk and all, or something.
The political reason behind Patricia left has some level of importance to the conflict with insurrection, and her leaving helped provide an opportunity to act. It's something that I plan on building on in later chapters. Fuck, this much storyboarding is going to make me go through a roman empire binge, I've been avoiding my destiny for so long now. It's inevitable.
My puppy is fucking dead, noooooooooooooooooooooooooo. Anyway, it's a half decent excuse to show how bad bandits can be in the near worst case scenario. Most skirmishes with criminal elements don't put up that much of a fight, while slavers and the like are compatible with mercenary companies or knightly orders depending on the group.
Why are their slavers? How do you think twsitd managed to get access to Hapi and other innocents for their experiments. There's more to evil than just those guys creeping in the shadows. While on the subject of Slavery in Fódlan, the alliance has the most lax laws regarding the practice with only the nobility being exempt really but even then every house has strong desire to accumulate wealth to avoid their members from being enslaved to pay of a debt. Or captured in battle like knights in the real world would be, and used as ransom. The empire treats it like the romans did, and usually as a form through which someone can pay off debt. Heavily regulated so that the army takes the most slaves, though people who are drafted are considered above them yet below the actual enlisted, and native Fódlanians are above recent immigrant soldiers. Yada yada, classic nepotism and classism that lends itself well for the harems that the empire are notorious for allowing. Everyone's competing for first place. Faerghus is the most. . . liberal? that is genuinely the correct word to use I think. There is no bill of rights, but given how the church had to directly step in to reinforce its independence, in turn they have a version of the Magna Carta. Basically it means that Honor is literally enshrined in law, adding credence to the attitude people from that faction have towards the knights and stuff. 'We are gifted strength by the goddess, not to oppress the weak but to safeguard the innocent from the wicked', that sort of thing.
I'm making more changes to canon characters, Glenn's bio made him sound super fucking boring and a literal carbon copy of Felix. So now Ferdinand is in his place, I have plans for him.
Oh, Anna technically is considered a non-combatant, while she can fight that's not the most preferred role for her to play. She is a merchant after all.
Depressed OC is a bit overplayed, but realistically someone would be pretty depressed if you took them from their home into an foreign land. Not to mention my iteration of such a character is significantly more manic than is typical for such protagonists. Mainly so that the story could be a bit more interesting, who doesn't love a good whittle murderous sociopath. Language comprehension has progressed a whole bunch since I started this story. I mainly wanted to try depicting, 'learning a language' but I'll be going off a new (unspoken) rule for speaking from now on. The words you can speak words in a language equal to half your Charisma (for me it would be 5 letter words atm), and understand words that are one letter more than that. (so anything past 6 letters are incomprehensible)