Chapter 6: Home and Hostages

The next few days, Annette's father was true to his word. He spent just about every hour with her tending to the horses, packing up the camp, or even trying to teach her woodcarving. Although while he made beautifully ornate puppets and animals, Annette didn't have his practiced hand. Her attempts came out as lumpy, misshapen circles of wood.

"It's alright," he said, holding up her latest attempt and trying to hold back a laugh. "It took me a long time to get the details right."

She snatched the wood back and dug her carving knife in, trying to salvage the piece. Despite her failed attempts, just sitting around with him like this was her favorite part of their time together. They had plenty of chance to catch one another up on their lives.

Gustave filled in the gaps between the letters he had given her about his travels after he had left. How he took odd jobs here and there, visited the furthest reaches of Fodlan, and the long cold nights thinking of home and his family. But more often, he encouraged Annette to tell him about her life, eager to hear everything that happened. "So you enrolled in Fhirdiad's School of Sorcery?"

"Yes, that's where I met Mercedes, my best friend," she said, pointing her knife at the tent across the way. "She and I helped each other a lot."

"You two do seem close," he said. "She seems nice and soft-spoken. It's good that you have a friend to keep you a bit grounded."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, when you weren't studying, you could be intensely focused for hours." He blew off some shavings from his own expertly detailed wooden horse. "I remember how you wanted to surprise your mother and I, so you wanted to clean the house and cook us a meal. You lit the stove to heat it up, but got so caught up in cleaning, you nearly burned the house down."

Annette sheepishly sunk her head in her shoulders. "I didn't realize I put in too many logs."

"I still appreciate the effort," he said. "At least you didn't have to worry about that with Mercedes around, I'm sure. So the school was a stepping stone to the Officers' Academy?"

"Yes. I knew one way or another, you would be at the monastery. I thought that if I studied hard at school and got accepted to the Officers' Academy, I could find you."

"You weren't wrong there. But I'm so proud of you. I always told your mother you were gifted in magic and to see you now." He stopped carving for a moment and smiled, reaching for her cheek and brushing it with his thumb. "You've grown into an exceptional woman."

Aside from the weathered lines in his face, he had that same joy in his eyes she remembered seeing long ago as she ran up excitedly to him with a candle, lighting it with a spark from her finger. He had patted her head and scooped her up, praising her as a wunderkind for her efforts.

"Thank you," she said, a lump lodged in her throat. She turned back to the wood block, trying her best to carve out a smile.

"And a very beautiful woman too. I'm sure you'll make some man very happy one day." He raised a curious eyebrow. "Unless there already is someone?"

Just like that, the peaceful bliss was shattered by Felix's face rearing into her thoughts. She had done her best to shut him out for the past few days, but now that her father had brought it up, she feared that he had unfortunately heard the rumors too.

Still, she hadn't received any word from Felix. With how he left things, why should she expect anything more? "No, no one in particular," she said, cutting her block harder than she meant and taking off a sizable chunk.

"Oh," he said, shifting uncomfortably and putting the finishing touches to his horse's mane. "I didn't mean to pry. It's just that there were many quality candidates at the Officers' Academy, so I thought maybe there had been."

"Nope, none whatsoever." She lost another large piece and gripped the knife tighter in frustration. She wanted to drop this topic altogether.

Thankfully, Gustave picked up on it. "Speaking of which, I've heard they might be reopening the Officers' Academy. I received an offer for a position there."

"Really?"

"Of course, the king has also offered me a position as a knight by his side." He grinned and set his horse down on the table. "Seems I have a couple of choices. What about you? With the war over, is there anything you're planning to do?"

She picked at her block, settling on creating a simple face in it. That was a good question. The war and her search for her father had consumed so much of her life, she hadn't given too much thought beyond that. But now, it was like a wide path of endless possibilities opened before her. What did she want to do?

Immediately, Felix's face popped into view again and she vigorously beat it back. Maybe she had considered him in his future, but now? "I'm not sure," she said, looking at her carving. The face hadn't turned out too bad. The eyes were uneven and the lopsided mouth looked like a gash, but it was better than most of her past attempts.

"What about re-joining the Officers' Academy? With your talent, you could be a good teacher."

"Maybe," she said. "Or maybe I could try the School of Sorcery."

"That works too. I'm sure you'd be a wonderful teacher." He examined her little mound of wood and patted her head. "I think you're improving."

"Don't patronize me," she said, giving him a playful shove. He laughed and pulled her into a hug and pretty soon, Felix drifted far from her thoughts.

After several long days and nights, Felix was no closer to penning a letter than when he began. His first draft, he had laid everything out on the table as Ingrid had advised. But it just turned into a rambling mess, not unlike when he talked to Annette in person.

So he followed Sylvain's suggestion, restraining himself somewhat, but that ended up worse. Letter after letter, he balled up and dumped in the evening campfire, providing enough fuel to keep the fire going well into the evening. Sylvain even started making jokes about it, much to Felix's chagrin.

"Yo, Felix!" he called one evening, poking his head in. "Having a little trouble getting the fire going to cook dinner. Is your reject kindling ready yet?"

"Get out of here," he said, hurling a wadded piece of paper at him.

Sylvain caught it, tossing it up and down. "This should do. Thanks, buddy!"

On and on it went to the point that by the time they reached Fraldarius territory, he was actually looking forward to seeing home for once. It meant time away from the accursed letters and letting him turn his attention to other pressing matters.

As they neared his family's manor, one of the soldiers scouted ahead for any signs of trouble. So far, they hadn't run into any problems, but that was what set Felix on edge. Based on the messenger's report, he expected an ambush or assassins to be waiting along the road for them. However, other than some traveling merchants, they hadn't come across anyone.

"Maybe word got out that you're returning to take your place as head of the house," Ingrid suggested.

"Maybe. Maybe not," he said. Still, based on the empty roads, it seemed more likely that she was right. If the nobles were plotting to kill him and usurp the lands, better to do it before he even reaches the territory and hide his body where nobody could find it.

Night fell long before they reached the outskirts of the manor grounds. They waited on the edge of a hill overlooking the front gate for the scout to return. Felix laid prone in the grass beside Ingrid and Sylvain, squinting at the large, imposing house lording over the surrounding green fields.

There was little activity going on. Some patrols, visible only by their torches, walking their routes around the high walls. A few windows with poor light spilling out. The front gates manned by two guards and the side ones under constant supervision.

All in all, things seemed normal and well defended. Too well defended. If the soldiers weren't his, but those of the local nobles, then he wasn't liking their odds. He counted at least fifteen soldiers, but there may be more.

In the distance, they heard a galloping noise and the trio pulled back out of sight. Felix stood up first, hand on his sword hilt until he verified it was the scout returning. "What's the situation?" he asked.

The scout dismounted and saluted him. "Everything seems normal as far as I can tell. The captain reports that your brother added extra security because of the threat." He shifted and looked away.

"But?"

"But something didn't feel right. The captain seemed eager to know when you were coming."

"Describe him," Felix said.

"Um," the soldier held his hand flat above him. "About ye tall, mustache, maybe ten years your senior."

"It's a trap alright," Felix said to Ingrid and Sylvain. "That's not our captain."

"Couldn't he just have retired or something?" Sylvain asked.

"Within the past several months? Not likely." He sighed and folded his arms. This was going to be more trouble than he cared to deal with. Likely his brother was already held hostage by the nobles. And if all the soldiers down there were waiting to ambush him, then they needed a plan.

"Any thoughts?" he asked his friends. "You two know this place as well as I do."

"Take the side gates," Sylvain suggested. "There're gaps in their patrols. We can get into the manor, rescue your brother and anyone else, and take out the soldiers from there."

"Good idea, except there's archers in the roof as well. My father had some archer nests built in the roof when the war broke out," he explained before Sylvain asked. "Odds are, the nobles will use them."

"We could stick to the shadows then," Sylvain said. "Or how about a ruse? We announce that the king is right behind us with his army."

"If they don't fall for it, then we're caught out in the open," Felix pointed out. He noticed that Ingrid was quiet in thought and waved his hand in her face, snapping her out of it. "You have something?"

"Maybe," she said. "But – well, just follow me. I think I have a way inside."

Felix grunted, his fingers crying in protest as he hung from the window sill. His boots constantly slipped against the white washed stone of the outer manor wall. Building up all the strength he had left in his core, he hurled himself up and over the sill, through the open window, and into the darkened bedroom.

Ingrid helped him to his feet while Sylvain stood watch at the door, peering through an open crack. The scant light spilling in from the door fell onto the long unused bed and furniture.

Felix turned back to the window, signaling to their soldiers below. They immediately retreated into the darkness, leaving the trio to brave the manor. "So are you going to tell us exactly how you know a way into Glenn's room?" he asked, shutting the window.

"I never used it, if that's what you're thinking," she said.

Sylvain clucked his tongue. "Poor, poor Glenn."

"Around the time we started courting, whenever Glenn visited my family, he would sneak into my room now and then. Nothing happened, so shut up," she pointed at Sylvain. "He only thought it fair I know a secret way into his room in case I ever wanted to use it. His words, not mine."

"I suppose it did come in handy," Felix said, examining the room. He hadn't visited it since his brother passed. It had annoyed him how his father had insisted on keeping everything perfectly preserved as some sort of memorial to Glenn's memory.

And yet, as he passed through it, he couldn't help noticing a large painting hanging on the wall. One of Glenn, Felix, and their younger brother Erik, all posed together, all smiling cheerfully among happier days. He lingered at it, taken in by Glenn's eyes, always bright and full of mirth, framed by a confident face and proud stance befitting a knight. Not unlike their father.

He noticed Ingrid lost in the painting as well and tore his gaze from it, joining Sylvain at the door. "See anyone?"

"No, seems to be quiet in here. A couple of soldiers, but that's all. You don't think-"

"They killed everyone? No," Felix shook his head. "If they had done that, there would be no point in laying a trap. They would just announce it. They know that Faerghus won the war and the king will be returning home. They don't want to engage with him because the army outnumbers their troops."

Sylvain nodded. "Then they did this recently?"

"Or they want to take over the land peacefully," Ingrid said. "Avoid bloodshed and force you and your brother abdicate your lands."

"Which means hostages," Felix added. "Likely my brother is with the nobles and the rest of the manor is locked up somewhere."

Heavy footsteps passed by outside and Sylvain closed the door to the tiniest sliver until they faded away. "How do you want to do this?" he whispered.

Felix pointed at the two of them. "You go for the hostages. They'll likely be in the basement. Once you do, secure the manor grounds with the soldiers outside like we planned. I'll find my brother."

With that, he stole out of the room, checking the hallways and dashing from shadow to shadow. He searched the whole second floor, moving from room to room, but it was empty. Partially eaten meals that seemed a few days old laid on dressers in some rooms, complete with fallen chairs and furniture, as though the occupants had been taken in the middle of their dinners.

Finding no sign of life on the second floor, he descended the grand staircase in the foyer, stopping short when he heard voices coming from a side hallway. He leapt over the railing, landing catlike in the dark recesses of the staircase, and waited for another pair of soldiers to pass.

Think, where would they keep Erik? He ran through the list of options and settled on the great chamber in the west wing. Keeping an eye out, he hurried along the foyer and down the twisting hallways to a short set of steps and old oak doors. Squatting down, he peeked through the keyhole.

Inside, his brother sat in one of the high-backed, cushioned chairs, seeming so small in the seat. Behind him, a balding noble was speaking to him, but Felix couldn't hear a word of what he was saying. He tried the doorknob, but it was locked tight.

He considered kicking the door open, but the oak wood was sturdy and thick. He'd more likely break his leg trying to force them open.

Perhaps one of the soldiers has a key. But he didn't have time to go searching for one and risk an alarm. He touched the door and thought for a moment. Raising his hand, he rapped on the door.

"Yes?" one of the nobles inside called. "Who is it?"

Felix adopted a gruff voice, hoping to the Goddess this worked. "My lord, we've caught an intruder in the manor."

"Is it Felix?" another asked.

"Yes. He's demanding to speak with you."

"Excellent," the first noble said and he heard footsteps cross the chamber floor. "Perhaps now we can make some progress."

Felix checked the keyhole again and the person behind Erik's chair had pulled out a knife, holding it under the boy's chin. The noble inserted his key in the door and unlocked it. Felix quietly drew his sword and a small throwing dagger. He would have to make this fast. He did not intend to lose another brother, not tonight.

"Hey!" He spun around to a guard at the end of the hallway raising a threatening spear at him. "It's him! Sound the alarm!" Two more guards joined the first and Felix cursed as the door started to open.

He was trapped on both ends with no backup.