New chapter, big whoop.
Chapter XXI
If Edelgard recognized me as Conquest, she had made no motion to express it. I imagined she would have also told Hubert about our exchange in the dungeons of Castle Enbarr, and he had also never confronted me. I figured it was safe to assume that neither of them had identified me, as I had identified them. Or perhaps they were simply waiting for the opportune moment. I would have to keep a slightly closer eye on the two of them. Turning them in to the Church was out of the question– if they were capable of hiding their secret for almost the whole year while within the monastery's very walls, obviously they would know to ask why I would be accusing them. It would be my word against theirs. And between the two of us, I thought the word of the heir apparent to the Adrestian Empire would be a bit more preferred to that of some random orphan who worked at Garreg Mach.
The rules of the game were obvious. As long as I kept my cards close to my chest, they would do the same. And I had no choice but to ascribe to the regulations.
Was it selfish, to allow the Agarthans and their allies to perform their machinations undetected, where they would allow more harm to come unto Fodra? By that logic, letting Ganondorf get close to Zelda's father was selfish. I did not have the power to stop them at present, and besides, I had priorities– Caiaphas and Agony. Better to wage a silent war than a loud one.
I made one promise to myself, with Katáktisi as my witness. Agartha's time would come, and sooner than it thought.
The Vouge cut through the firewood like it wasn't even there. Magical flame was used to heat a lot of the monastery, as it was renewable and also served to help fledgeling casters learn to control their magic. However, a fair amount of Garreg Mach was still heated with conventional fire. At times, it was just more convenient.
"That's a nice axe," Cyril commented. This was a very nice axe. It had cost me a pretty penny, and I tried not to think about the fact that it could have been free if I abused Professor Byleth's goodwill. I had once been utterly perplexed by my seeming ability to thwart the reversal of time. I had acquired the Ocarina of Time on the third day in my first loop in Termina, and yet somehow had it on the first day of the second. After a bit of research, I had eventually come to the conclusion that my pouch was its very own little Perpendicularity. Because of that, everything that existed within it did so outside of the world's general flow of time. Time still passed within it, of course, but it was unaffected by the snags and flows that came from the Ocarina of Time. I wasn't stupid enough to test it with the professor's Divine Pulse. I reminded myself that money was temporary, and avoiding time travel at all costs for the sake of my mental health was forever.
"Thanks," I mentioned, wiping the accumulating sweat from my brow. I had to be careful not to smear my makeup. I happened to have paused at the exact right time, because the echo of the noontime bells roused me from my doldrums. I dropped my axe despite myself, quickly patting at my pouch in search of the ocarina. I was quicker to realize my error than the last time this had happened a couple of weeks ago. I would have to be satisfied with that. And I hadn't had a total meltdown like I had near the start of the year. That had to be some kind of victory. "If the lady I bought it from is to be believed, it was made outside of Fódlan." Saying Fodra the way that it was technically supposed to be said sounded so wrong, even though I was used to it by now. "Real steal, though. Last in stock."
"Seems a bit fancy for firewood chopping."
"That's what I said," I joked. "I only bought it because your hand-me-down axe got super dull. Figured I'd splurge a little. Tell you what– if I ever see another one for sale, I'll buy it for you. Think of it as a belated or early birthday present."
"You don't have to do that. It's not like I feel bad because my axe is cheaper."
"That's not– that's not what I was trying to say," I backpedaled. "It would be a present. Something I'd get for you because I know you'd like it. It's something friends do sometimes. Nothing else to it."
"Maybe I just don't get it," the youth admitted. "I've talked about it a little with Ashe, and friends don't need material stuff to still be friends."
"No," I agreed, swallowing the bile that formed at the mention of his name. "But it's nice to indulge every now and again, especially for an occasion."
"That does sound kinda nice," Cyril admitted. Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by a young woman's voice.
"Uh, what are you two doing?" I cringed. I was quick to identify the voice as belonging to Lysithea. Did she remember hearing my voice after Katáktisi and I returned from Enbarr?
"We're pickin' out logs to chop into firewood and carry back," Cyril answered. I glanced at the veritable hill of flammable wood still piled up, as well as the slightly smaller hill of processed wood. "Most of 'em are gonna be cut up back at the monastery, but since Link's here, we can get some done now."
"You can't expect to carry all of these by yourself," the academy student declared. "Let me help." I gave her a once-over. She had almost no muscle mass. She'd be about as helpful as a Floormaster on stairs.
"Nah, I got it," Cyril stated. "I don't want ya getting hurt. Logs are heavy sometimes."
"I'm well aware. You should accept the help being offered. I'm older and wiser– I know best." Even though the comment wasn't being directed at me specifically, I could feel pure hatred bubbling in the pit of my stomach. After all, those who went to such efforts to appear old and wise were most often the greatest fools of all.
"That's–" I started.
Were I you, I would allow it, Katáktisi countered.
Didn't you hear what she said?!
I did. And while ignorant in the extreme, taking this course of action will show the child just how wrong she is. And she will be stronger for it.
Classic Katáktisi. Anything for greater strength.
"- a good idea. I can keep working on this. Cyril, maybe you guys can take… I don't know, three quarters of the logs back inside? I'll most likely have the rest cut up by the time you come back."
"Well, alr–" The mage had already grabbed a comically oversized log and was now barely hanging on to it, swaying back and forth like a reed in the wind. Even from far away, I could see the shaking of her hands. "Uh, Lysithea? Ya seem a bit shaky. You okay?"
"Y-yep, totally fine! I'm just… kinda losing my grip… on this l– agh!"
Whump. Thunk. Shhh.
"Well, that wasn't much help, as it turned out. I didn't realize they'd be that heavy. I couldn't even walk in a straight line…"
"I told ya, logs are heavy sometimes," Cyril reiterated. "It's hard work if you're not used to it."
"I feel foolish."
"Well, if you've learned your lesson, I'm gonna go carry the other logs inside."
"Hang on– shouldn't you rest for a bit?"
"Wood still needs chopping, and I'd feel bad leaving Link to do it all on his own. Plus a buncha other stuff needs doing before sundown too."
"In that case, let me help you carry the chopped wood!" Lysithea's enthusiasm was appreciated, but her ability… not so much. Kudos for bravado, though.
"You know how rough firewood is? You'll get splinters if you carry it with your soft hands." To prove his point, the Almyran took Lysithea's delicate hands and held them up to the light. The contrast between her smooth skin and his callused palms was obvious.
"You can't be serious!"
"You're just not cut out for this kind of work. Look at your hands, they're like a princess's. There's no point in you learning how to chop wood, is there? You don't need to do that kinda stuff. You and me live in different worlds. There's no point lowering yourself down into mine."
"Our worlds aren't so different! We're together right now, aren't we?" she objected.
"Sure, we live in the same places now, but that's not gonna last forever. I don't see how it could, unless I actually turned into your little brother or something."
Vouge came down upon the wood once again. I studied my work as the two disappeared, wood in tow, back towards the monastery. A couple minutes later, I started on the last one. Cyril came back, Lysithealess, and we picked up the chopped firewood. It was probably for the best– I didn't want to lose track of time and be out here when the sun set. I shouldered my burden and headed back towards the monastery. It was particularly windy today, and the sound of the air filtering through the barren leaves almost sounded like rain. I passed one of Leonie's traps, careful not to disturb it– it hadn't caught anything yet, and I didn't want to chase off any game.
I was quick to dump my haul in its proper place and then I retreated into the walls of Garreg Mach, greeting the friendly gatekeeper as I passed.
"Listen, Link, I wanted to talk about–" The Elegy of Emptiness.
"Not now, Ashe."
Today was the eighteenth of the Pegasus Moon. The sun was shining, the winds were blowing, and a brand new day was swiftly beginning.
And I, Link Harkinian, was sprinting full-tilt towards the Officer's Academy dormitories, terrified out of my mind.
You are overreacting, Katáktisi drawled. It's just a–
No! You're underreacting! I countered hotly. I needed the assistance of one specific individual, someone enthusiastic and approachable and experienced in this sort of thing. I barreled past Caspar and Raphael, who were hosting an arm-wrestling contest in the reception hall alongside Felix, Leonie, Ingrid, and a very bored Linhardt. None of them were exactly what I was looking for, or anywhere close to that individual for that matter. I burst through the monastery gates, dashing past the fishing pond and by proxy a bemused Flayn, and quickly ascended the stairs to the second story, which all the nobles had claimed as their living space. I located the door of the person I was looking for and skidded to a halt. I tried my best to compose myself, taking two deep breaths, before delicately knocking.
"Just a moment!" the occupant replied. Ten seconds later, the door opened, and I was greeted by none other than a man with orange hair. Perfect. "Oh, Link, correct? I don't believe we've become properly acquainted. I am Ferdinand von Aegir. What brings you here at this hour?"
"The pleasure is mine," I replied, doing my very best to keep my posture perfect. "I'll not waste your time– tomorrow is my birthday, and… Professor Byleth decided to invite me to a tea party. Suffice to say that I have never drunk tea in my entire life. So, I came to you in the hopes that I can get a crash course in tea etiquette?"
Ferdinand chuckled, one hand on his right hip. "I would be happy to be of service! Noble or common, everyone should have the opportunity to have a fine tea at least once in a while. Please, come inside– I'll turn on a kettle."
I was welcomed into Ferdinand's dorm, and the first thing I noticed was how meticulous everything was. There was not a single scrap out of its proper place, save a single unopened bag of coffee beans hidden surreptitiously behind the foot of his desk. But what really hit me was the aroma– all strong fruits and other earthy tones. It wasn't bad by any stretch of the imagination, just… unfamiliar. That was enough on its own to have me a little on edge.
The Aegir noble sauntered to his desk and placed his hand on a dais upon which a kettle had been placed. I had seen a couple of these in Fhirdiad– it used small amounts of magic to heat enough water for a cup of tea or two. It wasn't efficient for more than a couple of mugs and they were quite expensive, but its convenience and ease of use made it a mainstay in a lot of fancy households.
"Do you have any flavor preferences?" he asked.
"Uh… no? I guess I don't know what I don't know."
"I see." The kettle began to scream, hissing steam escaping from its top. Ferdinand calmly procured two cups from Nayru-knew-where and quickly poured the boiling water in. "I'll just use a Southern Fruit blend. It is one of my personal favorites. Please, take a seat."
I did so, and quickly enough, the cup was being gently pushed into my hands. I blew on the top for a moment to cool it off, and the fruity scent wafted into my nose. It smelled of overripe hydromelon. Delicately, I took a sip. I rolled the liquid over my tongue– an action that I would soon regret as I summarily burned my whole mouth. The brew was strong and bright, but there was something else. Something… I had never quite tasted before. It was good, though. It made me feel more alert somehow.
"So, Link," Ferdinand was saying, running a hand through his hair as he nursed his own serving. "Please, tell me a bit about yourself."
"Well, um, I've worked in Garreg Mach for just shy of a year and a half or so," I started. "I do whatever needs to be done to keep the cogs of the monastery turning and turning. It's the same as nearly everyone else who's come here as a result of being a war orphan, although my exact circumstances are rather different."
"Interesting. How is your position different from others in your station?"
I reminded myself to be polite and to not accuse him of interrogating me, much to Katáktisi's dismay. "It's a bit of a long story. See, I'm not from anywhere you'll see on a map. I grew up deep in the woods of northern Faerghus, somewhere. I believe we've narrowed it down to somewhere near the Sacred Gwenhwyvar. I was separated from the little community where I grew up during a blizzard, and somehow ended up walking directly into His Highness Dimitri. I never found a way back, but I was invited to stay in the capital of Fhirdiad temporarily. From there, when Garreg Mach found out about me, they offered me a more lasting home here. And, well, here I am." While it was not the whole truth, it would suffice. Also, when was he going to teach me anything about etiquette?
Ferdinand crossed his legs, reclining slightly where he was seated. "I always find it fascinating to learn about the lives of others whose situations are very different from mine. There is so much that the nobility has to learn regarding the common people– how may we be governors and protectors while knowing so little about their lives?"
"Stagnation is comfortable," I shrugged. "A lot of people seem content to keep things as they are for fear of making things worse, even as people suffer in the current system. Take Professor Hanneman's sister, for instance– I hear that she was mistreated at the hands of another power-hungry noble, to the point that she passed away. All because her family had a storied history of possessing Crests."
"I have heard about that awful business," Ferdinand admitted. "It is also– wait, you know about that at your age? Who thought it would be a good idea to burden you with such a serious topic?"
I rolled my eyes despite myself. "You would be appalled at what people are willing to talk about in public, especially if they think people like me can't understand it. Appalled, I tell you."
"Ah… as I was saying, I am far from blind to the existence of these sorts of crimes. But if it were a problem with the social system of Fódlan at large, then it would truly be everywhere. Looking at the majority of cases, especially outside of the Empire, I am not so certain that it is as common as it is made out to be."
"And yet it still happens," I insisted. "And yet, that man who took advantage of an innocent woman is still viewed as 'noble'. Even if it is rare–" which it most certainly wasn't, especially in the lower echelons of the nobility– "the fact that it happens at all, without consequence or action from the Church, is symptomatic of the fact that something needs to change."
"I would not argue that such a thing is consequenceless, even without outside punishment," Ferdinand argued. "It is the spirit that is judged by the goddess, and the spirit would be out of balance. I think of it like a chariot pulled by two horses– one representing restraint and virtue, the other representing more base desires for power and influence. If one lets the second horse run unchecked, then it determines the path that is taken. The chariot rider is a slave to those instincts, rather than being the person they were chosen by the goddess to be.
"But perhaps there is some truth to your words," the scion of Aegir conceded. "You have given me much to think about, Link."
I took another sip of tea.
"I am not sure why you felt the need to rush for my aid on this matter, although I do appreciate the opportunity to get to know you further. You are a natural– you maintain eye contact at the right moments for the right amount of time, you keep your back straight, you do have a tendency to fidget but it is not overly invasive, and you can carry a conversation. Still, it may be good for both of us to relax for a moment. Shall we play a game?"
Was it truly that simple? It couldn't be. This must be another test. "Uh, sure."
Well executed, champion, Katáktisi lauded. You have sown a seed of doubt that may yet bloom into a fortuitous alliance against the yoke of the Church.
Yeah, that was definitely what I was doing, I replied, and not just trying to keep the conversation going.
Professor Byleth had selected a cinnamon blended tea for our little excursion. She had also set out a couple of assorted pastry-looking things that I sincerely doubted I was going to touch. We were set up in a little gazebo just between the Officer's Academy proper and the public square. There wasn't another soul around. It was 9:31 on a Wednesday morning, so I supposed that made sense. She was already seated, the white porcelain at her lips, her newly mint-shaded hair glinting in the sunlight. I took the seat opposite her.
"Sorry I'm late," I said. "I had some work that needed to be taken care of, and that took longer than expected. Thank you for inviting me."
"No worries," the professor said flatly, vaguely gesturing for me to partake in the beverage that had been prepared. Even though it was unusually hot out today considering the time of year, the cup's warmth was still welcome. I quickly triple-checked the liquid's reflective surface to make sure that my makeup was still reasonably convincing. "What sort of work were you doing?"
"Just some business that had to be taken care of," I assured. "General maintenance of the monastery. It's something we're all tasked with as workers, but some of us take the role with a bit more seriousness."
"Zeal?"
"I guess. It's a bit heavy of a word, considering that most of us are kids."
"But you don't see yourself as a kid, do you?"
"Time travel," I said, shrugging. "Don't even get me started."
Keep your voice lowered, Katáktisi advised. There may be unwanted ears around us.
I'm surprised you aren't angry that I'm sharing this with the Fell Star, or whatever Thales called her.
It is irrelevant to hide such things from her. She has already borne witness to the Fierce Deity.
I blinked despite myself. I thought you hated that name.
I hate that name because you use it for me. That form that you take when you use my power is no more myself than it is you. It is us. It is harmony between champion and Crestwraith.
"I'd still like to hear it," Byleth stated, sipping tea.
I pondered my answer for about ten seconds. I couldn't spill all of the details, of course– Rhea was sticking to her like a mask on her face, and I couldn't risk Byleth sharing undue information. But she deserved to know something, as my only comrade with solid footing in the currents of time. "I guess you have a right to know. You'll have to promise not to tell anyone, alright?"
She merely nodded.
"Well, it all started with a girl. Her name was Navi." I sniffled despite myself. I still hated her and loved her and missed her dearly. "She was my closest friend growing up, but one day she just… disappeared without any explanation. All that I had left from her, and what we did together, was a blue ocarina. The Ocarina of Time, a powerful artifact that allowed me to hold time itself in the palm of my hand. I searched around my home for I don't even know how long, until it was stolen from me by an imp wearing a mask."
"A mask…" Byleth repeated.
"I'll get to it," I reiterated. "In trying to follow the thief, I fell… somewhere else." I grabbed a napkin and withdrew a pencil from my pouch. "Think about it like this–" I drew a plus sign. "Imagine that this is the world. When I went somewhere else, it was like I was moving not up or down or forward or backwards, but out." I added a diagonal line to try and simulate three dimensions. "What happened to me then was like falling through the ground, but not down."
"So you fell… through the world… and came to Fódlan?"
"No. Not Fódlan. The place I found myself in was called Termina. I quickly learned that the imp had used the power of the mask to tear the moon from the heavens and make it fall towards the earth, leaving me three days to amass enough power to kill it. In the First Cycle, I only managed to get my ocarina back with minutes to spare before the world came to an end…"
Her eyes widened even more than they already were. "You went back."
I nodded morosely. "I went back." Silence. "For what felt like years, I lived those three days. I memorized schedules, saw every branching path, heard every word in every worldline. I healed a world on the brink of death… and, on the last cycle I slew the mask. But the truth was that even with all the power I had amassed, all the people I had aided, I was not its undoing. See, on the moon, before it destroyed Termina… it gave me godhood inside of a different mask. I used that to kill it." Hopefully she had forgotten about the Salesman. I would have to try not to mention him any more than I had to. "I left Termina after that. Even if those I had helped cared about me, there were too many bad memories in that place. I found my way back home, left the ocarina behind, and started wandering. I found another point of egress from my world, and…" I shrugged, taking another sip of tea to wet my throat. "And now I'm here."
Byleth was silent for a long moment. "Does Dimitri know about this?"
"Some of it," I admitted. "He and Dedue are aware of the whole 'other universe' thing, but not… the rest of it. Or at least none of the important details." They were probably aware of small things that I had offhandedly mentioned over the course of the last three years, like the existence of Gorons and Zoras, the local religious and political structures of Hyrule, stuff like that. But little about what I had been subjected to.
"I assume the mask you mentioned is the same as the one that you wore… in the Sealed Forest."
I froze. My ears perked up, straining against the rustling of leaves in the wind to pick out any eavesdroppers. I heard none. "Yes," I admitted. "It's called Katáktisi. Believe it or not, it's from Fódlan." Byleth blinked. Why was I still talking? "It was made thousands of years ago, by Solon and his kind. It's a piece of technology beyond what is capable today. It speaks to me, sometimes, in my mind. It offers guidance, grants me strength, and suggests courses of action, among other things. I imagine your disembodied voice is much the same."
I take offense to that.
Katáktisi, I'm comparing you to a god. Favorably.
"This is… a lot to take in. If it's on Solon's side–"
"We're not," I assured. "We haven't been since Remire."
"But before then?"
"It was Remire that convinced Katáktisi that they were not the people they once were. They're something else. Something hateful, twisted. Not something worth fighting for. We still can't trust the Church, because Archbishop Rhea would sooner kill us for being previously aligned with them, but we can't side with them either."
She was quiet again. "Then what happened in Zanado was another thing like Katáktisi?"
"Yes," I said. "The man who sent me to retrieve it wanted me to die. Because my patron is so closely intertwined with me, its programming affects me– and it cannot bring harm to Solon and his kind or any of their creations, nor can it through inaction allow them to come to harm. If you hadn't been there… if you hadn't broken Φρίκη… I would have died at the Red Canyon. Worse, a single command will force me to obey their every order. That was what happened in the Sealed Forest. I– we had no more choice in fighting you than fire had a choice to burn. So if you hadn't been there… I would have killed every single student at Solon's behest."
Her eyelids fell inscrutably, her expression laced with suspicion. "You knew what was going to happen at the ruined chapel. Didn't you?"
I cringed slightly. "Well… yes. But–"
"You knew the man who helped Kronya kill my father. You lied about him being able to interfere with the hands of time. Didn't you?"
"They were going to do something worse," I said softly. "They were going to make something. Something that would have made the tragedy of that day look like a drawing made by a child. I risked my life to stop that from coming to pass. I never imagined Kronya would have still gone through with it, even after I stopped its end goal.
"And that man? He may as well be a god with the power he wields. If you had tried to fight him as you stand, you would die by his hand or mine, plain and simple. It would take no more effort than snapping his fingers." I looked down, burning shame coursing through my veins like frigid magma. "So I had to lie to you. To protect you. There will come a time when you strike him down, I'm sure of it– and I'll do everything in my power to ensure that comes to pass. In the meantime… I'm sorry."
The professor, the one in command of the ebb and flow of time, interlaced her fingers and tried to deconstruct me with her eyes. In that moment, I did not see the Ashen Demon, but merely an uneasy woman, weighing whether or not to risk the scalding iron of trust. "I don't hear Sothis anymore."
The implications swam in our shared mindspace. "You… you don't mean–"
The Ashen Demon looked down. At once, it all made sense.
"It happened after Solon cast that spell. When the color of your hair changed. And you and the progenitor god just…"
"Became one."
The goddess, gone? Was she truly dead? Was that even possible? I whistled lowly. "You're lucky. Now your choices can truly be your own."
"Yours can't?"
"Programming, remember?" I chuckled airily. Somehow, I felt… lighter. Liberated. I tried to piece together where I had last felt this way… it was sometime recently. When was it?
When the recollection hit me, I only felt shame. It had been when I last shared a story with Ashe. That avenue was closed to me, now and forevermore.
You revealed perhaps a touch too much. However, in this instance it may have been unavoidable. I must commend you for confirming the removal of the false god.
Is she really dead?
It is all but known to me that the Fell Star contains the Crest Stone of Sothis within her body. Otherwise, she would not be able to wield the Sword of the Creator. Her sacrifice– Sothis' sacrifice– would be the only way to gather enough power to escape Zahras.
Do you think the Agarthans know about this?
No. They seemed unaware of it at the Sagemoot, which was after Solon's death at her hands.
"Right," Byleth admitted. "Listen, I'm sorry. For making you answer all of these questions. It's your birthday, and–"
Oh yeah. It was my birthday. Farore's sake, I was thirteen now. What the hell. "It's fine, really. You had a right to know."
"I really do trust you."
"I…" What was this feeling in my throat? Had some of the tea gotten stuck? "Uh, sorry. Nobody's ever said that to me before. Let's just… change the subject, alright?"
Byleth's expression changed ever so slightly. "So, tell me what you think about guessing other peoples' age…"
"A revelation from the goddess…" Dimitri mused. I was squinting at the heavy bags that had accumulated beneath his eyes. They had always been there, but they had never been this pronounced. "To think we'll have the honor of attending such a historical event."
"I hear the Archbishop will be accompanying us to the Holy Tomb," Dedue stated.
"If something happens to her, all of Fódlan will suffer!" Ingrid asserted. "We must protect her at all costs!"
"This may sound mad, but perhaps we don't have to worry too much about that. Lady Rhea has said before that she is capable of protecting herself. I have a feeling that is true. I thought it was a strange thing for her to say… and beyond that, her movements bring to mind a great warrior with an extensive military background." Well, she was Seiros herself, so Dimitri was certainly on the right track.
"Just who is Rhea?" Byleth asked, eyes flicking to me from my position behind Sylvain. I quickly glared at her to keep her eyes off of me at present. With Flayn right on the other side of the House, I couldn't risk anyone noticing.
"I wonder… Mind, it's also possible that I'm way off track. Regardless, we should brace ourselves for anything."
"I never imagined attending a ceremony for a real revelation," Ashe whispered. I kept my eyes pointedly on the ground.
"I wonder what the ceremony will be like?" Mercedes added. "I'm so nervous! I'm not ready for this!"
"There's no chance for battle unless something goes terribly wrong, right?" said Felix.
"Yup," I chimed in.
"How boring."
"If you keep saying things like that, something bad is bound to happen," Sylvain berated lightly, stretching his arms over his head.
"What's wrong, Flayn? It looks like you have something on your mind," Annette commented.
"Who, me?" Cethleann replied very unconvincingly. "No… it is nothing. May we all see this through to the end."
"Your Highness, we will protect you no matter what…" Dedue paused with a sigh. "Your Highness?" Dimitri was looking off into space, eyes unfocused, blonde locks a sweaty mess draped over his forehead.
"You haven't seemed like yourself recently," Byleth observed. She was wrong. Dimitri was still the same man who found me two years ago.
"I haven't been sleeping well recently," the crown prince admitted. "And my head aches… but there is no need to worry. We must focus on the task at hand. After all, it's about time for Lady Rhea to arrive. Let us all steel ourselves for whatever may occur at the ceremony."
As if on cue, the archbishop appeared. After some words, the Blue Lion house was quickly escorted into the subconsciousness of the monastery. The path quickly became dusty with disuse, as this section of Garreg Mach's underbelly was explicitly off limits. The hall ended with a large room, whose floor shook and rumbled like a dying beast before beginning a rapid descent. The students briefly lost their footing, but I had been in an elevator before in the Forest Temple, so like Rhea, I maintained my composure.
When it stilled, we found ourselves in a massive hall. The Holy Tomb was not the same thing as the Holy Mausoleum– the latter was much better lit, but smelled faintly of mildew. This location was darker with fewer, bluer lights, but the air was much drier and more still. It very well may have not been disturbed in centuries. The Holy Tomb was also a lot bigger, with great vaulted ceilings and enough square footage to stock an entire army. At least, were it not for the dozen or so large sarcophagi littered orderly throughout the space.
"Are you surprised, professor? This is the Holy Tomb," Rhea was saying.
"Incredible… to think that such a vast space has been hiding beneath the monastery all this time…" Dimitri gasped. "I wonder what powers that giant mechanism that descends beneath the ground…"
We trekked further through the space, our footsteps echoing across the empty walls. At the end of the room was a flight of stairs, atop which was a once-resplendent stone throne, the shape of a spiral carved into its front. "This is where the goddess who created this world–" who was now dead– "was laid to rest, along with her children. It is said that our creator– the goddess Sothis– sat upon this very throne. Professor… do you recognize this throne?"
"I…" she hesitated. "I… do…"
"So long," Rhea whispered, in a volume that I knew she thought no one else could hear. "I have waited so long for this day." She raised her voice to normal speaking levels. "Sit upon the throne. I have no doubt that you will be gifted a revelation from the goddess."
Tick. Tick. Tick. The Ashen Demon reached the foot of the throne. The fabric of her clothes rustled slightly as she did what she was instructed to do. The echoes of her footsteps reverberated throughout the tomb, slowly being drowned out by the oppressive silence of a dead history.
She is coming, Katáktisi informed. Twelve seconds.
Eleven.
"Well?" said Rhea, hope filtering into her voice.
Ten.
Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
"It was supposed–" Six. "-to be but a–" Five. "- step away…" Four. "What could possibly–" Three. "- be missing?"
Two.
"Halt!" One. "Reveal yourself!" Dimitri cried, his foot scraping against the stone as he did an about-face.
Zero.
Negative one?
Clank. Clank. Clank.
The space large enough to fill an army was now filled with about eighty people, all armed and ready to begin a full assault on our house. It probably would have been harder to bring more without being detected. At the front of the charge was the Flame Emperor, flanked by a brunette man I had never seen before.
"Don't take a single step, any of you!" he cackled. "If you move, your lives will be forfeit! Thank you ever so much for guiding us this far! The Imperial Army will now take possession of everything in the Holy Tomb!"
"Why is the Imperial Army here?" Dedue demanded.
"This can't be– how did they get into Garreg Mach?"
"Even the Flame Emperor is here. That can only mean…"
"The Flame Emperor is connected to the Empire. What do you know."
"I never imagined you would have the nerve to return here," Dimitri spat. "What are you after, Flame Emperor?"
"Is it not obvious?" Edelgard said, her voice distorted beyond recognition by her false face. "The Holy Tomb contains great power. The power to rule all of Fódlan."
"And to attain that power, you'll trample anything that stands in your way. Just like you did in Duscur!"
"I had nothing to do with that. If I did, I would have tried to stop it." She wasn't really making a good case for herself… "Quickly, retrieve the Crest Stones! Kill for them if you must."
"Insolence!" Rhea shouted as the Flame Empress' troops dispersed through the tomb. "You will atone for the sin of trampling over this holy resting place! Professor– destroy these villainous traitors who dare dishonor our creator!"
"The Crest Stones are in the caskets! Open every last one of them!" the assassin ordered.
"The Holy Tomb must not be desecrated! Protect as many of the Crest Stones as you can!"
To do as Rhea said or to not do as Rhea said… the Church would keep their weapons, or Agartha would gain them. Neither was necessarily a good option for me.
Destroy them, Katáktisi suggested. Or take them for yourself.
Given how Seiros is watching them all like a hawk, I don't think that's a good idea. Let whoever gets them get them. Now is not the time to draw attention to ourselves.
The Flame Emperor had already moved to cut off the entrance to the Holy Tomb. Her soldiers were mobilizing among the coffins, working quickly to unseal them and take that which lay within.
"Heretics!" Dimitri accused, quickly mobilizing to sprint down the stairs at full tilt. "What could be gained from desecrating these tombs and disgracing the dead?" Dedue quickly moved to cover his flank, and the rest of the Blue Lion house rapidly followed suit. Our objective, at least, was obvious– fight our way out.
I quickly followed Felix towards the western side as he pounced on an enemy armored knight, using the opening he created to finish off the brigand right beside him with a powerful overhead chop. Mindlessly obeying Katáktisi's screaming, I was forced further forward, planting an arrow into the chest of a thief who had just managed to leverage open one of the coffins. I had a straight shot to the eastern stairs towards the elevator, although it was littered with Imperial soldiers. Part of me wished I could just Goron roll through them with Darmani's Mask, but that was probably a bad idea.
I let the heir to Fraldarius rocket ahead of me to deal with another thief. By contrast, I elected to stay behind to reseal the tomb, after– of course– ensuring that the Crest Stone was still inside. Hopefully if someone did manage to slip past our defenses, they would be delayed by the lid's weight enough for someone to double back and take care of them. It was tempting to take it for myself, but I didn't feel safe risking it.
"Take away the Crest Stones! All of them!"
"That is enough! Do you even realize what those stones are?!"
The cracking of tiles alerted me. I looked up, a fresh arrow already nocked in my bow, and observed the two Demonic Beasts wreaking havoc at the base of the dais. Ashe, Ingrid, and Mercedes were already dealing with them fairly well, but it would be a lot easier if there was only one such beast to deal with. Thinking fast, I withdrew a bomb from my pouch, stuck my arrow through it, lit the fuse, and fired a high curved shot in their general direction, timing it perfectly for when the hellish creature inhaled for a breath attack. The bomb arrow was much more effective in its innards, so it quickly collapsed. Just like Dodongos, indeed.
I passed a quick Heal to Sylvain, who had just finished taking care of two Imperial archers, before continuing down the path to the eastern side, quickly assisting Dimitri as he polished off an enemy Priest. The central space around the tomb seemed fairly secure, and all that was left was a couple of stragglers and the occupants of the upper pedestal– some of which were obvious Agarthan dark mages. Better to occupy myself on the lower level until they were dealt with before proceeding.
On your right, Katáktisi advised. I immediately threw my body to the left without any hesitation, colliding with Annette and nearly bowling her over. It was thankfully enough to avoid the thrust of a lance from one of the Flame Emperor's remaining armored knights. I didn't even have time to throw a Deku Nut before they were beheaded by the Sword of the Creator.
"I'm told it's fine to kill those who resist," I heard that assassin say from over the parapet. "Now then, how shall I cook–"
"Out of my way!" came Dimitri's scream, swiftly followed by a sickening crunch.
"Wait! No! I was just following orders! I just–" Crack. "Graaargh!" Well, there was one problem solved. I quickly used my Hookshot to yank myself up to the railing, ignoring the stairs altogether while the rest of the Blue Lions house swiftly scampered up them. The prince of Faerghus had dealt with most of the riffraff already, much to my lack of surprise. The sounds of battle had disappeared. The house was silent. The Imperial soldiers had retreated somewhat further along the pass, leaving only six to stand with the Flame Emperor at the front. Dimitri's eyes were locked to the ground. On the floor, so innocently, sat the ceramic red of the Flame Emperor's mask.
"Hmhm… hmhmhmhm…"
Byleth had somehow silently made her way to my side, behind Dimitri on his right.
"Hahahahahahahah!" Dimitri cackled, as though someone had told him the funniest joke he'd ever heard in his entire life. And I supposed it was true. Boring into him from the chasm where the mask once stood was her gaze. The gaze who had taught him how to dance. The gaze who had been his classmate, his half-sister, his lost friend, for a year now. The waltz had reached its climax, and here Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd stood, betrayed for the last time by Edelgard von Hresvelg. "Is this some kind of twisted joke?!"
He tightened his grip on his lance, still chuckling, and put his boot through the faceless face that lay at his feet as he approached her and her remaining soldiers. Byleth tried to place a hand on his shoulder, to pull him back, but he merely shoved her away. I remained rooted in place, as did the rest of his house. When Dimitri got like this, nothing and no one would stand in his way. It was a shame; I had kind of wanted to add that mask to my collection. Jeritza's old mask was nice and all, but it was definitely built for function over form. Edelgard's mask, by contrast, was function and form. It was art.
"I've been looking for you," he said, his throat dry and words as ragged as an overused razor. "I will take that head from your shoulders– and hang it from the gates of Enbarr!"
Is that really the best he could come up with? Katáktisi criticized.
Not helping.
At Dimitri's outburst, her remaining soldiers charged, weapons leveled in an effort to defend their liege from the raving lunatic that was about to tear her to shreds. With a single brutal swipe, the head of his spear tore through four of them. Dimitri didn't waste a second, launching his weapon like a javelin. I could see Edelgard's eyes widen as it grazed the side of her helmet, mere inches from the side of her face. Just five centimeters or so, and she'd be sporting a brand new hole where her right eye should have been. He threw a fifth soldier to the ground, then picked up a sixth and slammed their skulls together, their headgear clanging together like a macabre cymbal.
"Stop right there!" a seventh guard hollered, their own weapon raised. It didn't help much as Dimitri merely outstretched his right hand, driving his fingers into the assailant's eyes, and squeezing until their body went limp. He tilted his head upwards slightly, blood staining his cheek, to make eye contact with Edelgard once again. A wheezing, hate-filled laugh squeezed out of his throat.
Edelgard took a step away, most likely taken aback by the brutality on display that could have put her 'uncle''s to shame. Well, not really, but that wasn't saying much. I could see her tightening her grip on her axe.
"Before I break your neck," Dimitri snarled flatly, matching her retreat with his own advance. "There is one thing I must ask you."
"Stay out of my way," Edelgard replied, more calmly than I would have given her credit for.
"I don't recall giving you permission to speak. "Answer my question. That is all you have left to do. Flame Emperor… no, Edelgard. Tell me now. Why did you cause such a tragedy?" Duscur. Termina. The only difference between the two seemed to be that Μιζέρια wanted to consume everything. Edelgard's only hand in Duscur was her alliance with Thales. Which, if I had the timeline of events correct, was not forged until long after the Insurrection of the Seven.
"..."
"You killed your own mother, and yet you haven't even had the decency to stop and consider the reason behind your actions. Have you?!"
"I already told you. I had nothing to do with that," she shot back. Had she already forgotten what Conquest had told her? That with allegiance came consequences?
"Ha! It was foolish to think I could reason with a lowly beast."
Two more soldiers interposed the two royals. "Your Majesty! Now!"
"You are a monster…"
Dimitri was quick to eliminate the two interlopers, but he was interrupted from reaching his true target by a flash of purple light. "Come, Hubert!" Edelgard declared. I caught a glimpse of the von Vestra's silhouette against the spots in my eyes, before both of them were gone. All was silent once again.
"To flee is futile, wicked girl! The Church of Seiros will raise its entire army against you until you have been captured and punished!" Rhea swore. "You have defiled the Holy Tomb, dishonored the goddess, and humiliated your brethren. That crime will never be erased, even if you burn in the holy flame and spill all of your blood into the goddess' soil.
"Come, Professor. Let us return and decide on our next course of action." Rhea was swift to exit the Holy Tomb, but I could see her fury in her stance. The wrath of Saint Seiros herself was not something to scoff at. While Dimitri, Byleth, and Dedue lagged behind, the rest of the Blue Lion House was swept up by her menacing aura, and took the elevator back up towards the monastery, leaving those three to the clamors of the dead.
This chapter was a real struggle for me to write. I really hope I did the reveal (well, to everyone not named Link anyway) its due diligence. IRL stuff also got in the way, and it was just a nightmare. But I'm glad that it's done, and I'm happy to announce that there's only one (give or take) chapter until the timeskip!
Review please!
: ) (AO3): A lot of media suffers from what I call the 'JJ Abrams Effect'. There's this huge emphasis on the mystery box, and it gobbles up so much screen time and oxygen that no possible reveal can scale to it. It drags the audience through the dirt for the entire runtime without ever really offering anything more substantial, and in the end they're inevitably just left with something disappointing. The reason producers and writers do this is to hypemonger and instill a sense of sunk cost in the consumer, forcing them to continue coming back for answers. That's good for making money, but frankly I don't like it at all. What I try to do with each chapter is to not shove the various plot threads in the face of the reader; instead, I let them simmer in the background until they're actually relevant.
CuddlyManaki (AO3): Well, glad you're able to find your way back!
Pet Peeved (FF): That's really interesting!
flameMail (AO3): Edelgard isn't completely laid bare, I'd say; an emperor's got to keep some secrets, after all.
Lightning_Strife (AO3): Gonna give you a RAFO card on that one.
ChankoLegacy (FF): Good to see you again! I was saving the Byleth/Link talk for his birthday, because it was a great way to implement the tea party mechanic into the story and give Ferdie a scene in the pre-timeskip. And yes, she and Link are the only two that remember the Divine Pulses. That we know of, anyway. Katáktisi actually isn't capable of observing the wrinkles in the timestream, but it can infer what happened through its connection with the Hero of Time. Marianne is fun to write! Well, actually she's pretty sad to write, but you know what I mean.
quadjot (AO3): 3
DraconicGreed (AO3): Yeah, pretty much. At least for the pre-timeskip and a bit of the mid-timeskip, anyway.
Parkourse (AO3): Accurate summary of this fic.
Shouty (AO3): Thank you very much, and same to you!
Hello_I_Exist (AO3): Aww, thank you! And congratulations on being this story's 100th comment on AO3!
calvinster (AO3): Unfortunately, that's a big barrier for entry on any crossover fic. It doesn't help that CC has been very Fódlan-centric. And yes, it *was* a reference.
DarthFlores (AO3): No hard feelings, that's just the way it is sometimes! I did think about giving Link and Edelgard an extra scene, but I couldn't find a good place to put it in naturally considering everything else that's been going on. Even then, I'm not sure that it would be some big betrayal if Link already knew– Link himself has been working with the Agarthans himself for a hot minute for reasons that are outside his control, so he wouldn't really have a leg to stand on.