CHAPTER 002: HEALER AND KNIGHT
Ingrid was unsure how long she was out, but when she awoke she found herself in a surprisingly soft bed, her body cleaned, dressed, and bandaged. She was dressed in a very unremarkable loose grey shirt and pants, and curling her toes told her that her feet were bare. A brief attempt to get up told her that everything still hurt, but the pain was not nearly as excruciating as it had been in that cellar.
She lay back down, her fingers tracing under her shirt to try and detect her injuries. She felt extra padding in two spots below her breasts where the arrows had struck her; clearly they had missed her vitals given that she was still alive, but the pain still felt fresh. Moving her body would be difficult, and however long it took for them to mend her back would be time she missed training and keeping her body in shape, which she would need to aggressively compensate for once she had the strength to do so.
She gazed up at the featureless ceiling, which had little of interest that she could focus on to take her mind off of her situation. This was her lot in life now? The gods had been cruel enough to spare her a noble death holding the fortress while her liege made her escape, and now she had sworn that selfsame loyalty to another. She looked around and found that she was alone. Had Hubert been telling the truth when he had said everyone thought she was dead? Did any of her new allies even know she was alive?
She looked around and only saw one healer, who looked at her and then scurried off before she could even utter a word. A moment later, Ingrid found a familiar face looking down at her from his tall, black, sinister visage.
"You again?" she scoffed, "are you trying to hide my existence from the world so I can become your new trump card at the next battle or something?"
"Nothing so fanciful," Hubert admitted, "but the fight at Arianrhod was grueling and tensions are still high. Some of the battalion leaders are aware of your new allegiance, but we have been unable to inform any of the Black Eagle Strike Force proper that you have joined their ranks."
"Black Eagle Strike Force…" Ingrid let the name roll off her tongue, whispering it a second time as if to process it. "...that's kind of a stupid name."
"Whether you think so or not is hardly relevant," Hubert chuckled, although there was a dry amusement etched onto the upper half of his face, despite him concealing it well. "The point is, many members of this elite unit are your former classmates, at least two of which were from the Blue Lions House, no less. You were legitimately on the verge of death when we found you, to the point where there was literally magic keeping you alive when we last spoke."
"It charms me that you literally used magic just to keep me alive just so you could interrogate me and cajole me into joining your stupidly named squadron."
"Truly, Ingrid, you wound me," Hubert's laughter said otherwise.
"I thought you said we weren't going to lie to each other, Hubert." Ingrid's sharp words intercepted his witticism before he could even finish it.
"Ah, that we did, Ingrid, that we did." Hubert raised a finger as if having a eureka moment. "I wouldn't consider friendly jesting or sarcastic quips to be dishonesty though, on the basis that you're a smart enough woman to see through it, aren't you? Especially given your proclivity for firing witticisms right back at me?"
"You really need to stop patronizing me right now." Ingrid jabbed a finger at the taller man.
"If that's what you interpret this as, then that's on you, Lady Galatea," Hubert cooed, "that being said, the reason we are keeping your existence a secret at the moment is because this war zone is no place for a reunion… and because most of them aren't even here anymore."
"Well where did they go? What's going on here, exactly?"
"The short of it is that enough calculated risks were made to decide that the Black Eagle Strike Force would be better suited returning to Garreg Mach for the time. The Kingdom's forces were strong in Arianrhod, but there was minimal involvement from the Church, which makes Lady Edelgard believe they are planning another attempt to retake the Monastery."
It was valuable information that Hubert was sharing, and briefly Ingrid entertained the idea of fleeing and informing King Dimitri about the Empire's next move and countermove. But where had he fled? How far away was he now? How would she escape the watchful eyes of the Adrestians? Would she go back on her word so shortly after giving it? No; she had to see who was at Garreg Mach—see how she was received. If she was going to be seen as a reanimated corpse, then she might as well embrace that sooner rather than later. Her old life, as much as she wanted to return to it, was over.
"You would share vital movement information with me just like that?" she tilted her head.
"We are allies now, are we not?" Hubert gestured, "Far be it from me to stop you should you try to run or defect back to Faerghus, but every action has a consequence, and in this case, Lady Edelgard and I are not the ones you need to worry about."
For a moment Ingrid tried to process the threat. If they were not the ones whose wrath Ingrid would invoke, then who was?
"Do not treat this as an ultimatum, however—" Hubert continued, before Ingrid cut him off.
"ALRIGHT!" she bellowed, "I get the point. Am I to follow you and Her Majesty back to Garreg Mach then? I don't care if I need more rest. I need my next orders more."
"Spirited, aren't we?" Hubert's amusement did not cease. "Your next orders will be given in due time. In the meantime, you are to return with the remainder of the army and ourselves to Garreg Mach, where you will rest. You are no use to anyone in such a ragged shape."
As much as Ingrid wanted to argue, she knew that Hubert had a point. She wanted to wring his neck; the smug way he had a response for anything she threw at him. Nothing she said or did could daunt him or make him falter, and she envied that.
"Of course," Ingrid's sudden monotone might have thrown someone else off, but not Hubert. "I pledged loyalty to Her Majesty, and I will follow her orders unflinchingly. Your words are hers, and so I shall do as you order."
And in short, she did. The battle was over and there were very few stragglers left to fight off that didn't surrender almost immediately. Bandit activity had been reduced almost to zero due to the war, and so they were less of a threat and so the biggest danger on the roads was usually more of enemy brigands and soldiers trying to sabotage caravans and convoys.
Ingrid lost consciousness for much of the journey back to the Monastery much to her chagrin, and while she knew it was because she was neglecting her own self-care, she was too proud to actually accept it. Regardless, when she came back around in a condition where she had more awareness of where she was, she recognized the infirmary. She sat up, and even in the darkness she remembered this place. Sylvain had been here many times, and at least one of those had been because he had said something stupid that had caused Ingrid to punch him—a little too hard, even. He and Felix didn't let her live it down.
She had been here a couple of times herself, after a mock battle where she had been knocked off her horse; a training accident where she had smacked the head of a training dummy so hard that it had ricocheted off the wall behind her and struck her hard enough to give her a concussion. Thankfully she wasn't that clumsy most of the time, but this area existed for a reason, and one of those reasons was because students were often dumb.
Oh to be able to return to those days where careless sparring and training were the primary causes of people being taken here.
To her slight surprise she noticed her armor and even her lance, all next to her bed. Someone had cleaned and maintained her gear, because it had definitely not looked this good when they dragged her from the corpse pile in Arianrhod.
She sat up, letting her bare feet touch the floor as her toes curled upon the familiar stone. She wasn't sure if her shirt and trousers were infirmary attire or if they were just something extra in her size to keep her modest, but they were comfortable enough that Ingrid's pragmatism kicked in. As much as she still dreamed of being a knight despite that dream all but being destroyed, she had no interest in impressing any of these Adrestians. At best, she would impress them with her prowess on the battlefield, and at worst, she would get herself killed and be freed from this nightmare she was trapped in.
She clutched her lance, watching it glow orange and red in the darkness. She gripped it in her hands and twirled it with the same ferocity she had had in her final battle before her death.
She did not need the light to see where she was going now. She knew where she was and knew where she wanted to go.
"Ingrid?" a soft and gentle voice froze her dead in her tracks.
"You're here?" Ingrid recognized Mercedes' voice. "Why?"
"I work in the infirmary," Mercedes explained gently. "There's certainly no shortage of things to do with so many people sick or wounded. When I heard that you were here, I…"
"How long have you been with these people?" Ingrid demanded, her grip on her lance tightening, the little candle in Mercedes' hand illuminating the older girl's face.
"I've been with them since I joined their class three years ago," Mercedes admitted, "and when I realized my brother was with them… I am sorry Ingrid. I do not ask forgiveness, but I am truly sorry that it had to come to this."
"Don't be," Ingrid's monotone returned. "I'm here now too and I'm an ally, not a prisoner. I swore my fealty to Emperor Edelgard, and here I am."
"Where were you going?" Mercedes waved her hand over her candle, causing the flame to burn brighter and illuminate Ingrid's face. Her once soft features seemed roughly hewn from stone due to her stern visage, and the heavy black marks under her eyes betrayed her physical and emotional trauma.
"To the training grounds," Ingrid answered, "you don't need to raise an alarm. I'm not going to kill anyone here unless it's in self-defense."
"Ingrid, your eyes…" Mercedes' face dropped and betrayed her worry. Not that she was ever subtle either; sweet Mercedes always wore her emotions on her soft ruffled sleeves.
"I literally got shot in the chest twice, Mercedes," Ingrid assured her, although she saw right through her hollow assurance, "I fell off my pegasus and literally landed on top of a pile of corpses and broke my back. You probably already knew all this already anyways. I'm not in good shape and I'm not in good temperament. Seeing you here and knowing that you left your friends and family in Faerghus to fight alongside our enemies isn't helping that mood."
"You don't get to judge me for that, Ingrid." Mercedes' tone was suddenly forceful even if her overall voice was still as soft and sweet as always. "I am not proud of my decision but I am staying with it. The Church needs a reform. The society built around Crests needs a reform. I've been a victim of it for much of my life just as you have. I cannot speak for you of course, but I think you deserve the freedom to choose your own path the same way I did—the same way you would be able to if you didn't have that Crest."
"So she gave you that spiel too then," Ingrid spat. "At least you joined peacefully, instead of needing to be beaten to a bloody pulp and left for dead."
"Ingrid, this is exactly why you need to rest!" Mercedes took Ingrid's free hand and tried to tug her back to her bed. Ingrid took a few steps before realizing what Mercedes was trying to do and stopped her. "You're exhausted and you know it."
"Maybe I am," Ingrid exhaled, "but how can I rest when I'm still reeling from that battle, Mercedes? You can see the trauma in my eyes. You can see what this did to me!"
"I can, and I do not expect it to heal in a fortnight." Mercedes sighed, "but I am glad you're still alive, Ingrid, and I will pray for your swift recovery."
"You'll need more than prayer." Ingrid pivoted on her heel to turn away.
"I would do everything within my physical and magical abilities to help you too, but I know you're not going to let me." Mercedes called Ingrid out, "do not try to guilt trip me, Ingrid."
"Have you ever spoken to Hubert?" Ingrid turned back around, her cruel, dead eyes staring deep into Mercedes' soft ones, "Have you seen how that man so effortlessly slithers under your skin like a snake and then poisons your mind with his charisma?"
"He has a very sharp tongue," Mercedes answered, "but he understands my merits the same way he understands anyone else's. I am not saying you should like him, but you're smart enough and focused enough to dance with him at his own game."
"Ha," Ingrid's hollow laugh fooled no one, "I'll keep that in mind. Does anyone else know I'm here? Does anyone else even know I'm alive?"
"Only a few soldiers or chirurgeons that took care of you during your unconscious bout." Mercedes answered, "Otherwise, only Her Majesty, Hubert, and myself know you are here—or even that you're alive at all."
"It's better that way," Ingrid stared intently at her curled toes, "I might even consider making that death be official."
"No," Mercedes stepped forward, "I will not allow it…"
"And who are you to stop me?" Ingrid pushed Mercedes back with minimal force, but her strength far outstripped the older girl's anyways. Mercedes had never been one for exercise or physical activity, but Mercedes fired back in other ways.
"I don't need to stop you." Mercedes hummed softly, "You lack the conviction to see it through."
"EXCUSE ME!?" Ingrid's repulsed expression looked like a crudely hewn block of wood in the dim flickering lights, "You think that *I* lack conviction?!"
"Hmm," Mercedes stroked her chin, "maybe that's not the right word, but for whatever reasons you may claim, you clearly don't want to end your own life. You're holding a weapon right now and are unsupervised. I am powerless to stop you, and I do not think Hubert would have intervened if you had opted to end your life between the time he found you and now. Everyone on both sides thought you were dead until people went to start moving the bodies."
"And I wish one of them had been mine!"
"I can tell. It saddens me, but I think I understand why you would think that way. You're trapped, and you're looking for a way out. Death would do that for you, which is the only reason you're even entertaining the idea at all."
"A way out from what? What are you talking about, Merci?"
"From the cycle your life has been ensnared in since your childhood," Mercedes sighed. "It took me nearly 25 years to learn it myself, because I was trapped in a similar cycle. That's the reason I'm here with the Adrestians instead of fending them off in Faerghus."
"So you turned traitor for some far-flung notion of freedom?" Ingrid's grip around Lúin tightened, her gaze still fixated on the quiet healer.
She wasn't sure if it was Hubert getting to her or if Mercedes was somehow in cahoots with him in a grand scheme to tear her down, but Ingrid found herself wanting to strangle Mercedes in a way not unlike how she still entertained possibly doing to Hubert. She was so infuriatingly calm while Ingrid's composure deteriorated, as if nothing fazed her anymore. Was that strength and willpower or was that just an opportunistic capitalization on Ingrid's own insecurity?
"No," Mercedes fired back without hesitation, "I turned my back against a society that saw me as little more than a commodity; as prized livestock whose value hinged on her crest. I don't just exist to marry a man and make crest babies or elevate my family's social status… and neither should you, Ingrid Brandl Galatea."
"Who else is here?" Ingrid demanded, "Who else from the Academy?"
"You were going to go swing your lance in the dead of night," Mercedes hinted, "someone on patrol might hear you, and maybe you'll find out."
"What do you mean?" Ingrid furrowed her brow, but instead of receiving an answer, the candle suddenly went out, and by the time Ingrid's eyes adjusted to the returned darkness, Mercedes had vanished into the night.
AFTERTHOUGHTS: And thus begins Ingrid's long grapple between her ideals and what is right. Gone are the days where it was easy to push Mercedes around and have her believe it was the will of the Goddess. She's still pious, but she's seen and experienced firsthand what the Crest system can do to people and she doesn't want anyone else to be a victim of it either. She's such a fun character and honestly one of the scarier ones simply because she can remain so calm even when she's ripping someone a new one. Ingrid's hostile attitude isn't going to fly with her and that's actually a big theme throughout the work. Trauma can explain the cause a lot of foul behavior but it doesn't justify it. Ingrid will have to learn this among her newfound allies, or she will not like the consequences.
Until next time!