Entering the tower from the entrance that Gilbert described proved to be little challenge for both the Blue Lions and the Black Eagles. And by "entrance," it was, in reality, a hole in the side of the fortress' stone walls that had been boarded up and manned by the two sentries stationed there.
This was mainly thanks to Manuela, and while the entire company had hidden from sight some distance away, the songstress had gone ahead to deal with the men guarding it. She'd proven herself to be quite the actress- and a lethal one at that. With the rain pouring down and obscuring their vision, the sentries had spotted a beautiful woman stumbling around in the mud, calling out and desperately pleading for help.
Believing her to be a maiden in distress, the guards had taken the bait and had originally planned to exploit this seemingly fortuitous encounter on what had been a miserable night standing watch in the rain. This ultimately proved to be their demise, as the femme fatale took advantage of their distraction, slipping the sword out from one of the bandit's sheaths. And moments later, two dead bodies now lay at her feet.
Once the coast was clear, Manuela let out an inconspicuous whistle toward the trees. At her signal, the entire company, led by Kratos and Gilbert, made their way to the fortress where she awaited them. The first ones to arrive immediately set to work on dismantling the boards covering the hole. Among the last to pass by the slain sentries was Caspar, who let out a low whistle of his own as he stepped past the bodies.
"Damn," the hot-headed boy said aloud, glancing at his friend Linhardt. "I take back everything I've said about our professor. At least now I know for sure not to get on her bad side."
From nearby, Manuela couldn't help but smirk. "I'm glad you've finally come to realize that even your professor is capable of committing acts of violence, my dear Caspar. And I trust you'll prove wise enough to remember that going forward, yes?"
The second son of Bergliez swallowed. "Y-yes ma'am."
With the boards finally removed, Gilbert turned to address the company. "The stairs here will lead us almost to the top," he said over the sound of the rain. "That is where the gang's leader will hopefully be waiting for us. Once we've secured Miklan and the Relic, we'll be working our way down so as to route the remaining bandits from the fortress. With any luck, we won't raise the alarm on our way up. From this point forward, everyone is to remain absolutely silent until it is no longer an option. Once we reach the top of the stairs, we'll have to improvise. So no matter what happens, stay with your assigned units and follow your leader's orders without hesitation."
He then looked between Kratos and Manuela. "Are we ready?"
"Yes," the Spartan answered without hesitation.
"We'll make this quick and efficient," Manuela affirmed with a nod.
"Very well," Gilbert said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "Everyone, follow me!"
x-x-x
They'd reached the eighteenth floor without incident, and by the time they approached the double doors leading out of the stairwell, Gilbert halted. He raised a hand, signaling for the group to stop. The rain outside was still audible through the thick walls, but the interior was eerily silent.
Once the older knight was certain that everyone had the chance to catch their breath, he gave a nod to both professors of their respective classes, who gestured in turn to let him know that they were ready to begin the assault. With that final confirmation, Gilbert threw the doors open and rushed out into the open, with everyone else following close on his heels.
They'd entered the grand hallway from the side, stepping into a vast space with high, vaulted ceilings and stone walls, with torches revealing the long stretch of the corridor. To their right, at the far end of the hall, was the main staircase leading downward to the next floor, which had been partially blocked off with large chunks of rubble. To their left, the hallway continued along the outer edge of the fortress, hugging the walls before disappearing around a corner, likely leading to the next set of interconnected floors.
Several bandits were already scattered throughout the hallway, some moving between floors while others lingered. The sight of soldiers suddenly pouring in through one of the doors lining the inner walls froze a few in their tracks, their expressions ranging from shock to disbelief. One bandit, however, immediately turned on his heels and bolted in the opposite direction.
"Sound the alarm! We're under attack!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the corridor and breaking the stunned silence. Soon after, the sound of a bell could be heard from somewhere on the top floor, and its ringing echoed and reverberated through the entirety of the fortress.
The infiltrating company wasted no time getting into formation. Before the alarm had even been raised, Edelgard, Sylvain, Dimitri, and their respective units had already positioned themselves as the vanguard, shields raised, with Kratos and Gilbert joining their front line. Ingrid and Ferdinand took positions behind them to step in to support them as needed.
"This hallway should lead us straight to Miklan." Gilbert called out as the bandits rushed to organize themselves. "Watch the doors for any surprises- and be mindful of those corners!"
"They have nowhere to flee, so the situation is in our favor." Edelgard added while brandishing her axe. "All we have to do is chase them down."
"Don't hold back for my sake," Sylvain reminded everyone. "My brother is going to pay for everything he's done."
Meanwhile, Kratos turned his head to the redhead to see how he was faring at the moment, and he was satisfied to see the boy's expression as serene and absolutely ready to take on the challenge that lay ahead of him. For a brief moment, he reflected on the young noble standing beside him at this very moment compared to the one he'd caught sneaking out three months prior. He remembered the things Sylvain's father had told him- how the boy couldn't seem to grasp just how serious the situation had become and what he would need to be prepared for in the future. But the look on Sylvain's face was all the Ghost of Sparta needed to confirm that he was more than ready to face his brother in combat.
Eventually, the youngest son of Gautier noticed the brigand looking in his direction, and Sylvain could not help but offer his professor a small smile of reassurance. In return, Kratos let out a low, approving grunt, and the company began to move forward to confront their incoming attackers.
Ever since the two strangers had arrived in Fodlan, Kratos had taken active measures to avoid killing anyone they'd encountered, even those who'd tried to kill him. The main reason behind this was the unfamiliarity of this new land and its customs. He didn't want to risk setting events in motion that could not be undone, something he'd learn from his experiences in the Norse and Greek realms. Even during his battle with the Death Knight, Kratos had deliberately avoided killing the man behind the mask, and instead had led the mysterious figure on to keep him occupied long enough for his students to fulfill their mission before sending him a good reason to never come back.
But now, the circumstances were much different, and his mindset had changed. The man leading the enemy forces was a direct threat to his students, and the carnage wrought by Miklan and his gang in the villages they had raided was undeniable. Kratos now knew that the luxury of restraint was no longer an option. The suffering Miklan had inflicted on others demanded decisive action, and once the two forces clashed in the push toward the next set of stairs, the ashen-skinned warrior held no reservations as he struck down those in front of him.
As Rhea had already warned them, the bandits had been better trained, organised and equipped than the foes Kratos and the Blue Lions had faced previously, and managed to slow the company's progress with a wall of shield of their own.
Unfortunately for them, however, it was not enough.
From the rear, Ashe and Bernadetta ordered the archers to fire volleys over the enemy line, striking the bandits' back ranks and disrupting their cohesion. Slowly but surely, the bandits' formation began to crumble as panic rippled through their ranks.
At the front, Kratos seized the opportunity created by the archers. With a commanding shout, he drove forward into the line of bandit shields, using his immense strength to force a gap in their wall. "Push through!" he barked through the chaos, Dimitri and Sylvain immediately followed suit.
From the right flank, Edelgard led her units and began to hammer into the now-exposed sides of the enemy's formation. "Do not let them regroup!" she commanded, her axe cutting through a bandit who had attempted to break free of the melee.
As they progressed, the walls of the grand hall suddenly became wider still, and several doors flew open on the Empress' side. Bandits poured out from the adjacent rooms that they passed by, charging directly at her. Their leader, wielding a massive sword, broke ahead of the group, his sights locked on Edelgard.
Before he could close the distance, a dark figure emerged beside her. Hubert stepped forward, and in a blur, his dagger intercepted the bandit's sword with a metallic ring. The force of the parry sent the bandit staggering slightly, but Hubert wasted no time. Dark energy coalesced in his free hand, forming into a dark jagged spike of magic.
"Know your place," Hubert hissed as he thrust the spike forward, impaling the bandit through the chest. The man's eyes widened in shock before his lifeless body crumpled to the floor. Hubert stepped back, his expression cold and composed, and the magic weapon dissolved into black mist. "Your flank, Lady Edelgard," Hubert warned, his eyes catching the remaining bandits rushing in from the doors.
Before Edelgard could respond, Ferdinand and his unit surged forward to intercept them. "I will not allow these cowards to disrupt our advance!" he declared as he pierced the first bandit who dared to approach.
From the rear of the formation, a foreign, feminine voice cried out. "We are having company!" Petra pointed toward the main staircase leading downward, where another group of bandits began to ascend whose numbers far exceeded those who had attempted to flank earlier.
Felix glanced back at the growing threat and scowled. "I'll hold them here," he said sharply, as he motioned for his men to follow. "The rest of you can go on ahead."
Before anyone could protest, Petra stepped forward with a sly grin. "Fighting alone?" she said, tilting her head at him. "I am thinking not. We will be helping in this fight." She twirled her sword skillfully in her hand.
The Fraldarius heir cast her a sidelong glance, his lips curving slightly into what might have been a smirk. "Do as you like."
"I will, but only so long as you are not dropping your sword this time." She teased him. "I am needing you alive for the coming tournament."
"Oh, no you don't!" Exclaimed Caspar, cracking his knuckles as he and his team rushed to join them. "I've been put on the sidelines for long enough. It's about time that I show everyone what I can do!"
Petra smiled cheekily. "In that case, the one with the most killing wins?"
Felix rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just don't slow me down."
"Slow you down?" Caspar scoffed, laughing. "You're about to eat my dust!"
From the front, Edelgard turned toward the scene, but Hubert placed a hand on her shoulder. "Let them handle it, Your Majesty," he advised. "We have our own mission to accomplish with Sir Kratos."
They exchange knowing looks before the Empress nodded. "You're right. Let's not delay any further."
By this point, the enemy line had been completely shattered, and the bandits retreated. Gilbert took this opportunity to look back over his shoulder and yelled, "We have them on the run! Keep pushing forward!"
The remaining Blue Lions and Black Eagle regrouped as they gave chase, round the corner began climbing the wide stairs leading to the next floor. There, on the landing, more enemy bandits had been waiting for them, but their morale had quickly wavered due to the catastrophic defeat from the earlier excursion.
However, also waiting for them were a small group of mages who stood in a semi-circle and began prepping a spell for the intruders. Flames swirled together, forming a single, massive fireball that hovered ominously over their heads, growing larger with every passing moment.
Dimitri's eyes widened as the realization struck him. He had learned, painfully, what mages could do to tightly packed units with spells of this magnitude, and without hesitation, he bellowed, "BREAK FORMATION!"
The company moved instinctively and split apart as the massive fireball shot toward them. It collided with the stone floor and detonated with a deafening roar. Shards of burning debris scattered in every direction, and smaller fireballs split from the initial explosion, raining down upon the disbanded soldiers.
Thanks to Dimitri's quick command, most of the company had avoided the worst of the attack. However, not all were so fortunate. A mage from Hubert's battalion was struck by a rogue fireball, the flames engulfing him instantly, and he collapsed to the ground in agony before his cries were quickly snuffed out. Nearby, an archer under Ashe's command screamed in terror as he too was consumed by the fire.
Ashe froze for a moment, his chest tightening as he watched his soldier writhe on the ground. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to look away, his anger bubbling to the surface. "Archers! On me!" he shouted, quickly nocking an arrow and drawing his bow string taut before taking aim at the mages. "Fire!"
A hail of arrows followed Ashe's lead, whistling through the air toward the semi-circle of mages. The bandits raised their arms to shield themselves, but it was futile. Several were struck down instantly, while the rest turned tail and ran.
Edelgard seized the moment. "Now! Charge!" she commanded, her axe gleaming as she led the Black Eagles into the fray.
"Blue Lions, with me!" Dimitri shouted, his lance raised high as he pushed forward, with Kratos, Manuela, Gilbert close beside the House Leaders.
The battle that followed was a confused mess for a brief period of time. Islands of soldiers duked it out with one another in a fight to the death, but it soon became clear the bandits were on the losing side.
Meanwhile, Marianne, Mercedes and Linhardt tried their best to keep themselves and their healers out of the fight while working to save as many of their injured allies as they could. Linhardt in particular looked as though he wanted to feint from the carnage he was witnessing, but Mercedes soon came to his aid and used her voice to help him through the dire situation.
Elsewhere, Rorie, the sergeant whom Kratos had confronted weeks prior, found himself separated from his commander after the earlier fireball had nearly vaporized him. Not that he particularly cared. He'd never been eager to serve under the Duscan, his disdain for the larger man as obvious as the sky was blue. While others might have scrambled to regroup, Rorie had taken the chaos as an opportunity to fight his own way, a smirk on his face as he carved his path through the scattered bandits. And after dispatching his most recent opponent, he wiped the blood off his blade as his eyes scanned the battlefield for his next challenge.
That was when he saw it.
A hulking figure appeared in his vision, covered from head to toe in thick heavy armor. The giant bandit's helmet concealed his face, but the sheer size of the man and the way he lugged around a heavy 4-bladed mace made it clear that he was not someone to be trifled with as he lumbered his way toward the sergeant.
Rorie, however, couldn't help but grin at the sight. "Well, well," he called out, his tone dripping with mockery as he gestured with his axe. "Looks like I've finally got someone worth my time. Come on, big guy, let's see what you've got!"
The fight ended quickly.
Rorie barely had time to move before the giant bandit surged forward with terrifying speed. The heavy mace swung in a wide arc, and before he could react, the blunt edge of the weapon smashed through his weapon and into his chest, sending him flying backward. He hit the ground hard, the air knocked completely from his lungs as his axe clattered uselessly to the side.
Dazed, Rorie blinked up at the ceiling, trying to piece together what had just happened. The sound of the giant's armor clanking drew his attention, and he turned his head just in time to see the bandit standing over him, raising the massive blunt object high above his head.
It was only then, staring into the shadowy abyss of the bandit's helmet, that Rorie's bravado gave way to fear. Memories flashed through his mind, his mother's voice ringing clear as day. "One of these days, Rorie, you're going to pick a fight with someone bigger than you, and it's going to get you killed."
For the first time, Rorie realized she might have been right. He was about to die.
But before the bandit could even begin to bring the weapon down, another large, albeit smaller figure appeared between him and his kill, and the sergeant watched as his commander, Dedue Molinaro, came in and swiped his axe across the helmet of the armored giant. A loud bang eliminated from the strike, forcing the bandit to stagger backward, dazed by the blow.
Discombobulated, he raised his massive mace with a growl and swung it in a horizontal strike toward Dedue, who ducked under the swing as it passed mere inches above his head. Without missing a beat, he shifted his stance and drove the blade of his axe into the giant's knee, striking the gap where the armor plates were separated. The giant let out a roar of pain as his leg buckled, forcing him to drop his mace and stumble onto all fours.
And it didn't take long for the Duscan to finish it from there.
Removing the bladed axe from the dead bandit, Dedue hurried over to the sergeant with a scarily calm demeanor. He leaned over his subordinate and offered him a hand. "Are you all right?" he asked, his tone steady.
Rorie, stunned, stared at the extended hand for a moment before taking it without realizing what he was doing. Dedue pulled him up with ease, and Rorie stumbled slightly, catching his breath. "I… I can still fight," he attempted to say confidently.
"Good," Dedue replied simply. "Find another weapon. The battle is not yet over."
"R-right."
Dedue was about to turn around and head back toward the fray when Rorie's hand suddenly shot out and grabbed his shoulder to stop him. Dedue paused, turning his head slightly, his expression calm and unreadable.
"By the way…" Rorie hesitated, his grip tightening slightly as he strained himself to maintain his air of confidence. "...Thanks."
Dedue regarded him for a moment, then gave a single, firm nod. "Do not waste it," he said evenly, before shrugging Rorie's hand off and striding back into the battlefield without another word.
"Yeah," Rorie muttered to himself, taking a deep breath before leaning down to pick up another weapon. "I won't."
The bandits were now in full retreat.
By then, only a couple of dozen or so were left, and the company led by Gilbert hadn't suffered anywhere near the number of casualties the enemy had taken. Knowing that all was lost, the surviving bandits fled to the final level, the Blue Lions and Black Eagles hot on their heels.
When they reached the top floor, they stepped into a wide, dimly lit chamber. Torches along the walls cast flickering inside the room, but all attention was immediately drawn to the man standing at the other side of it. He had flaming red hair that was unmistakably similar to Sylvain's, and a large scar ran diagonally across his face, giving him a hardened, almost feral appearance.
But what truly set him apart from the other bandits, however, was the spear he held in his hands. It appeared to be made entirely of bone, with spinal columns forming crossbars beneath the spear tip, and its base was a small red orb, glowing faintly.
Sylvain was one of the first to reach the landing when he came to a sudden halt. "Miklan!" He shouted.
The bandit leader scowled deeply at the sight of his younger brother. "Why have you come, you Crest-bearing fool?"
"I'm here for the Lance of Ruin," Sylvain said firmly. "Hand it over."
"Hmph," Miklan scoffed, his tone dripping with venom. "You think that I'm just gonna obey and roll over like a good little mutt?" He began to seethe heavily. "If not for you… If it hadn't been for you…"
"Shut up!" Sylvain snapped, his voice rising with anger. "I'm so tired of hearing that. You've always blamed me for something that isn't my fault. All you've ever done is make excuses for everything."
Miklan's face twisted in fury. "You think you can talk to me like that? You, who's had everything handed to him because of that damned Crest?" he snarled. "You think you can take this from me? Go ahead- try. I'll kill you. I'll kill every last one of you!"
Sylvain took a step forward, his lance at the ready. "This is your last chance, Miklan," he warned, his tone low and cutting. "Hand it over. I don't want to humiliate you, but I will if I have to."
Miklan let out a harsh, bitter laugh, the sound echoing through the chamber. "So, after all these years, you've finally got the guts to stand up to me?" His lips curled into a sneer as he leveled the Lance of ruin directly at Sylvain. "Fine. In that case, I'll start with you."
By this point, both groups stood on opposite sides of the room. The remaining bandits huddled behind Miklan, using him and the weapon he wielded as their last line of defense. The Blue Lions and Black Eagles held their positions, weapons at the ready, but the tension in the room had shifted entirely toward the two brothers.
Kratos stepped forward from behind the younger Gautier, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Sylvain," Kratos said, the first name catching the young man off guard. "Are you absolutely certain of this?"
Sylvain turned to face his professor fully, his grip on his lance steady despite the weight of the moment. "I have to," he said firmly. "This is something I've needed to do for a long time. I need to be the one to end this."
Behind them, Ingrid frowned, stepping forward. "Sylvain, this is reckless! We can do this together-"
"Absolutely not!" Annette blurted, her voice shaking with worry. "You don't have to do this alone! You have anything to prove to that worthless piece of-"
"Enough," The Ghost of Sparta said, and they both fell silent as his commanding presence took over. His gaze shifted briefly to the others, his tone steady and resolute. "I have absolute faith in his abilities." He then looks Sylvain in the eye. "Therefore, I will allow him to do what must be done."
The rest of the Blue Lions turned to Mimir in a silent plea to try and convince their Professor otherwise, and all the head could do was make a face as if to suggest a shrug. "Give 'em what for, lad." He told Sylvain quietly.
Sylvain gave a small, grateful nod to both his professors before turning back toward Miklan. "I'll make this quick." he said in a low, yet unwavering voice.
Miklan sneered, stepping forward with his shield and the Lance of Ruin raised. "You're going to regret this, little brother."