[X] Corral the enemy You can't let even one of these men escape – it's a matter of principle. Minerva will focus on controlling the upper altitudes, pushing enemies towards the lower battle and punishing anyone who tries to escape.
-[X] Minerva will try to take the violet dragoon from earlier alive. She has some pointed questions for him about just how he was able to summon that lightning bolt.
-[X] During the fight, Minerva will keep an eye on the Wolfguard and their tactics. Seeing how non-humans fight could be educational.
The mood inside the confiscated fort is grim, for all that the inhabitants have just returned from a successful raid. The wyverns fight over the meager supplies of meat, and the humans have their own disagreements: "What the fuck is this?" yells Ruben.
"Uh…" the uncertain dracoknight looks back at the topic of contention, the sullen villager he's dragging by the hand. "Well, she's a girl. A pretty one."
The villager appears to be resisting, with difficulty, the urge to spit in his face.
Ruben is not any more pleased. "I told you to focus on food and valuables, idiot! Is she food? Can we sell her?"
The people in the room look at each other, awkwardly. Macedon has its taboos, but they've left Macedon behind, so…
"Yes, yes, we can technically sell her," Ruben answers his own question. "If we knew where to find the nearest slave market. But tell me, how much food is she going to eat until then? How much more will we need to feed a wyvern, to carry her weight? Were you thinking at all when you took her? With your proper head I mean, not the one between your legs!"
The berated dracoknight rallies: "I know we're low on food. My thinking was, just keep her for the night, then let her go. No need to feed her anything."
Her eyes flash with hope; she is listening carefully. Her thoughts are plain to see: I'm going to make it back home. I just need to endure one night. She looks at Ruben, for confirmation, perhaps. That may have been a mistake. He is tired. He has been enduring for far longer than one night. As he sees her hope, his eyes fill with spite.
"You're not keeping shit, you greedy moron," Ruben tells his knight. He strides forward, grabbing the woman by the arm. "Let go. I'm going to make sure she's actually useful for something." He begins dragging her toward the exit. "The wyverns have worked real hard today, and they're hungry."
The woman speaks for the first time in their hearing: "No!" She comes alive with desperation, kicking, biting, and scratching. Ruben swears under his breath. Another bandit comes over to take her other arm, and together they drag her out, to the meadow where the wyverns are waiting. "No, no! Let me go!" she screams wildly. There is so little she can do, but she does it all, animated by a pure will to survive. She scrabbles against a sheer cliff to slow her fall. She is winning mere seconds.
The seconds are enough. "Ruben! Incoming! Cavalry and flyers!"
"Damn it." The bandit leader scans the sky, speaks to his crony without looking: "We need to ready for battle. This is a rotten day…Zanza! Zanza, get your ass over here!" Relinquished, set aside, the villager creeps backwards, breath still heavy. No one is paying attention to her now; all eyes are on the newest target of Ruben's displeasure.
"Now, see, if I'd tried to fight two opponents at once and gotten myself killed, you wouldn't have been warned to expect this attack, right?" the one-eyed rider called Zanza argues in self-defense.
Ruben barks a short laugh. "Yeah, sure. Since we outnumber them now, though, that excuse won't work again. Go first into the fight, Zanza. You don't get to run away this time. Follow through, or die." His eyes scan the crowd of hardened warriors. "That goes for all of us. We fight off this party, and that wins us some room to breathe before more come. Aurelis and Macedon are both after us, now. The only way out is through. And there ain't no force better at piercing through than Ruben's Ravagers!"
---
Minerva scans the horizon from atop Leonidas. Their target, an earthen building with a spindly watchtower extending to the skies, is resolving into clear view. She will be able to count the wyverns soon enough – but for now, many of them are grounded, still being saddled. Ruben left Macedon with twelve men; Caeda counted eleven earlier. Reasonable to think he lost one in the war, but she won't count herself surprised if the missing knight was just left behind as a guard.
Caeda and Tsubaki keep pace easily. So do the Wolfguard, surprisingly enough. They're mostly mounted on bulbos, but Hardin has an honest-to-God horse, a creature from Old Earth that looks like a wingless, muddy pegasus. It's a very funny sight, but its hooves eat up the miles on this flat, dry prairie. (In the mountains, she suspects, they would have far more trouble).
Minerva hangs back as they approach, scanning the battleground and letting the Aurelians have the first go at the enemy. Dragoons are sallying, now – one, two, three…four, that's the violet that took her out with magic! Minerva narrows her eyes. She recalls that frozen moment before the flash: the rider mouthing an incantation she couldn't hear, the mount coiled in readiness. She thinks she recalls that pale face. She thinks she might have ridden with that woman, at one point. Is it worth seeking out one opponent specifically in this fracas? For vengeance, for curiosity, for the sake of old bonds?
…Well. She's vowed that not a single one of these traitors will escape today. She'll probably cross paths with that one in the course of things.
The initial wave is here. She watches the exchange with a general's detachment.
[Wolf and Sedgar vs. Vanguard Dragoons; Martial: 66 + 28 + 5 (Coyote's Leal) = 99 vs. 99 + 16 = 115; Failure]
[Vanguard Dragoons vs. Hardin and the Wolfguard; Martial: 93 + 16 = 109 vs. 84 + 28 + 5 (Coyote's Leal) + 5 (Epona) = 122; Failure]
[Hardin and Vyland vs. Vanguard Dragoons: 54 + 28 + 5 (Coyote's Leal) + 5 (Epona) = 92 vs. 83 + 16 = 99; Bare Failure]
…What are they doing? After the archers' initial shots miss, three of the dragoons (including the violet) wheel back skittishly; one attempts to charge them (which is, in Minerva's reasonably informed opinion, what a wyvern rider should do when faced with a few archers on open ground) but their lance is deflected by an open palm strike from Vyland as they zoom past each other. No one has accomplished much of anything.
Well, except Minerva. She's learned that Gorons really are tough as rocks. No wonder Vyland doesn't bother with armor.
[Wolf and Sedgar vs. Vanguard Dragoons; Martial: 74 + 28 + 5 (Coyote's Leal) = 107 vs. 63 + 16 = 79; Success Solid Success (Archer: Successful attacks against flyers increase their level of success by one step)]
[Vanguard Dragoons vs. Hardin and the Wolfguard; Martial: 81 + 16 = 97 vs. 26 + 28 + 5 (Coyote's Leal) + 5 (Epona) = 64; Success]
[Hardin and Vyland vs. Vanguard Dragoons: 24 + 28 + 5 (Coyote's Leal) +5 (Epona) = 62 vs. 64 + 16 = 80; Failure]
The three other wyvern riders finally get over their bit of nerves (too used to attacking defenseless villages? Hmph) and try to swoop the Wolfguard as one. The archers sight their arrows with admirable steadiness, and one wyvern drops, holes in its wing and its rider's head. The other two descend with murderous intent, but the archers spur their mounts to a sudden burst of speed and leave Vyland behind, in a maneuver that must have been practiced. The Goron takes the gouging claws and lances without complaint – but without managing a counterattack – and when the pass is over he still sits tall, albeit chipped.
[Observing the Wolfguard in Combat, Martial, Difficulty 25/50/75/100: 72 + 41 = 113; Complete Success]
Minerva watches all this hungrily. She has not forgotten that her purpose here is to bring back intelligence on Aurelis's defenses. Perhaps she would prefer to be down in the fray, but she's good at watching; she watched for years before she was old enough to take flight. Her senses tell her that these men have fought together for a long time and built up a bond of trust. Her eyes track how Vyland immediately moves in to block any attack and how Wolf's barked orders are quickly obeyed. She recalls Sedgar checking everyone's equipment, back at camp. Roshea disappeared early in the battle to see to his assigned mission, an impressive skill in itself. And Hardin…he's a mysterious one. With a mysterious mount, too – Minerva didn't see that horse stabled anywhere. She just seemed to appear when he whistled into a blade of grass. She gets a bit distracted, thinking about the fascinating new creature. About as fast as a pegasus, on open ground. A heavier, stockier build – the blows from her hooves must be deadly, when she can get in a position to use them. Warm brown coat, blonde mane; impossible coloring for a pegasus, which are all white or, rarely, black.
[Vyland's trait revealed: Coyote's Devotion: You will stand unbowed under a hundred blows for the sake of your softer companions. When you fall, you know they will return the favor. While you are still undefeated, all enemy attacks against your allies are redirected to you, if feasible.]
[Wolf's trait revealed: Coyote's Leal: You are always by his side. Your sharp eyes are always watching. +5 to all rolls made by Hardin or the Wolfguard while you are present.]
[Sedgar's trait revealed: Coyote's Duty: A battle is won in the little things, sometimes days before. During a Paralogue, no rolls made by anyone can critically fail if you have been maintaining their equipment. Critical failures instead have their level of success increased by one step.]
[Hardin's trait revealed: Epona: The best of horses. When you whistle, she trots up to you ready to ride, wherever you may be. +5 to national actions where speed of travel is a factor. +5 to combat when mounted. ???]
Caeda signals nervously – she wants to help the others – but Minerva tells her to hold. The Wolfguard can hold out against these few, she judges. But that balance will change, and she wants to be ready when it does.
[Wolf and Sedgar vs. Vanguard Dragoons; Martial: 91 + 28 + 5 (Coyote's Leal) = 124 vs. 10 + 16 = 26; Critical Success!!!]
Her intuition is correct. These are skilled archers; now that they've found their rhythm, they focus their fire on one, then another, then another, until three more wyverns have fallen. If they are not dead, at least they won't be leaving this place without help. Just in time: the second wave is rising from the fort. Seven opponents. Her eyes track their paths. Most of them are descending on the Wolfguard, a net of steel and claws; she finds herself wishing them well, before turning her attention to the single dracoknight riding her way. He wears wyvern-scale armor, too, and his tough old green bears the scars of many battles. Ruben.
He is flying straight at her. Minerva feels her blood start to race; she's finally about to give Hauteclere its proper baptism. She wrestles that heady feeling into its proper place. She is here as a commander. She is not alone. Caeda is gripping her lance already, with the anxiety of the untested, waiting for orders. Minerva is not arrogant enough to think she could not benefit from the girl's help, but her girlhood will not stop Ruben from killing her.
Oh, almost forgot: this will be a short vote. I'm closing it in 24 hours because I want to make as much writing progress as possible before my vacation's done!
A sensible theory, Caeda, but I'm not sure that was the rider. It looked to me more like a breath weapon, which ... usually isn't a thing wyverns can do in Fire Emblem. We definitely need to interrogate these guys.
I'm rather amused by the interplay of Minerva noting that this is pretty standard Macedonian behavior (except maybe the selling out to the enemy bit) while Caeda is so confidant that noble, righteous Minerva would never allow her countrymen to act this way.
Also note that Hardin already knows about Ruben and co., and was in fact planning to recruit them, though he may not have known how they've been treating the local populace. Either way, we'll be making sure Aurelis doesn't get new wyvern riders.
While there are some benefits to making further connections with Caeda and Hardin, between Caeda's Jiminy Cricket act and Hardin having his own Diplo specialist with him, I'm not sure I want to take the risk of Minerva getting seduced away from us. Besides, we're taking these guys down either way. So I'll be going a bit against the grain.
Sheesh, those rolls are painful. At this rate, Caeda and Hardin might be getting more out of this than we are. Speaking of, they already seem to be acquainted with each other. Guess we know what Mostyn has been spending his Diplo actions on.
Well, since we're working with them for now, I'm thinking we take the strategy that has the Wolfguard do the brunt of the fighting, while Minerva gets a good view of the action.
While Minerva may have failed that roll to get info from Hardin, I think we can still make some educated guesses about their set-up from what we've seen. They've got a very large territory and a populace to small to keep the whole thing secure at once. A lot of forts, most unmanned, and Hardin's comment about only garrisoning the ones he needs to. And a fighting force that mostly consists of cavalry.
I would guess that they rely on an early warning courier system. The outermost watchtowers are garrisoned by skeleton crews. When an enemy party is spotted, a bullbos courier is sent to the Wolfguards, who then redeploy to whichever fort best suits the strategic situation. As we've seen, once they get the message, the Wolfguards can be on their way in less than half an hour. The idea is to spread their forces just enough to keep aware of where threats are coming from, then sending the bulk of their forces where they are needed at any given time, relying on the speed on their mounts to set up a defense ahead of the enemy.
It's a sensible strategy for given the state of the territory, but think I can see a decent counter-strategy. They way to go about it would be to coordinate a two-pronged attack. The first attack would be meant to deliberately trigger the warning system and draw the Wolfguard into moving to defend a particular location. Once the Aurelisians are committed to stopping the first attack, a second group could strike elsewhere relatively unimpeded. Of course, without knowing more details about the Aurelis defense it's hard to be sure how well this would work in practice.
Funnily enough, the vastness of the Aurelis territory could actually be helpful to us for propaganda purposes. Here in Macedon, we're packed like sardines, desperately searching for every scrap of spare space just to feed ourselves. Meanwhile, Aurelis has acres and acres of land sitting uncultivated. Clearly, we need that land more than they do! Of course, we'd then have to solve the issue of that land actually being unsuited for cultivation, but that's a future Michalis problem.
I like these little differences we see between Caeda and Minerva's outlooks. Sweet as she is, you can tell that Caeda is a bit sheltered, and has an idealized view of warfare and knighthood. Not that those ideals are necessarily bad, but they're not as widespread as Caeda assumes. Surely, she thinks, only the foulest of villains stoop to pillaging and looting! Meanwhile, Minerva comes from a placing where raiding culture is the norm. If it fits on the back of your wyvern, it's valid plunder; if not, set it on fire to keep the defenders distracted. It's not pretty, but it's how you make ends meet. I'm also amused by how Minerva is confused that people consider her a greater warrior than Michalis, even though objectively she has a higher Martial score.
One last look at the bright side, we may be aiding Hardin by solving his bandit problem, but we're also shutting down his plan to try to recruit them. If he'd pulled that off, with Mostyn's help he could have found a way to tame wyverns himself. I don't know if he'd have enough time to raise a new batch of wyverns, but it's good for us to keep that monopoly as long as possible regardless.
Before I forget, I want to say that I really appreciate @Amperstand 's analysis of the characters and situation in Aurelis (no comment on its correctness, of course). 500 EXP for that.
On the subject of your omake, it will remain non-canon. I've never played a Warcraft game, and I don't really have room in the story to research and incorporate the implications of an archmage summoning a horde of orcs.
Oh, and after writing the line "with another blow, they wrench through hair, scalp, and skull," today, I decided that the graphic content warning for this story probably needed an update. Just to let everyone know, the relevant part of the rules now reads: "You can expect this story to touch on various dark and mature topics. There will be vulgar language. Sex will be alluded to, but not described graphically. Violence will be described a lot more. Sexual violence will not leave the realm of subtext."
Target the leader, Minerva signals. Be cautious. Caeda nods acknowledgment, re-hanging her lance and drawing a javelin. Minerva keeps an easy pace, refusing the urge to spur Leonidas. Let Ruben tire his wyvern, coming to them.
She raises her voice to cross the space between: "You have one chance to surrender, Ruben! Or I will strike you down as an enemy of Macedon."
He does not bother responding, but she can see him raise his head into the wind to glare at her, contempt in his eyes. It distracts him – he is not able to avoid Caeda's javelin, which scrapes across his wyvern's scales and causes a shudder in flight, though it does not impact with enough force to truly penetrate.
[Caeda vs. Ruben, Martial: 31 + 17 = 48 vs. 11 + 27 + 8 (Wyvern Scale Armor) = 46; Bare Success]
[Ruben vs. Minerva, Martial: 44 + 27 = 71 vs. 65 + 41 + 15 (Wings Obscuring the Sky) + 8 (Red Scale Armor) = 129; Solid Failure]
[Minerva vs. Ruben, Martial: 88 + 41 + 15 (Wings Obscuring the Sky) = 144 vs. 07 + 27 + 8 (Wyvern Scale Armor) = 43; Critical Success]
Caeda keeps her distance, sweeping up and over to wheel back around for another shot; Ruben lets her, more focused on Minerva. His lance rockets forward, a powerful throw giving it the upward momentum to reach her. Unfortunately for him, she was expecting that move. A perfectly-timed beat of Leonidas's wings takes him soaring up, harmlessly over the lance…and directly over Ruben.
Then he drops. Deadly claws descend on the rider and gain purchase; cracking through armor plates and gouging flesh. His urge is to lean back, bringing his prey up closer to his head so he can bring his teeth to bear. But Minerva has him lean forward instead. She pitches herself over his shoulders, an expanse of scaled flesh open beneath her, and if Hauteclere's haft is not quite long enough to reach, well, dracoknights tie their weapons to their arms for a reason. She thrusts the axe down, and its golden spines bite deep into the wyvern's shoulders. Four voices scream in pain and triumph.
[Using Hauteclere: 3/9 Successes]
No other voice joins them. Not yet.
After an endless, bloody moment, Ruben's admirable mount manages to get free, through the influence of gravity more than anything else. The two wyverns part with a wet tearing sound. Minerva drags her arm up, fingers finding Hauteclere's tether, beginning the process of getting the haft back in her hand for another attack.
[Caeda vs. Ruben, Martial: 88 + 17 = 105 vs. 48 + 27 + 8 (Wyvern Scale Armor) = 73; Success]
[Ruben vs. Caeda, Martial: 01 + 27 = 28 vs. 84 + 17 = 101; Critical Failure]
Only for a pegasus knight to dart in, seizing the moment. Tsubaki threads the needle between two wyverns, and though Minerva would chastise them for flying recklessly close to an ally again, she has nothing to criticize in the way Caeda plunges her lance into the wound Hauteclere opened, momentum carrying it bone-deep. Ruben's lance drops from nerveless fingers. It falls out of sight, torn tether streaming like a maiden's hair.
Leonidas wheels; Minerva hefts her axe. Ruben's armor is cracked; blood streams down his face and the scales of his wyvern; the haft of Caeda's lance shivers with its pained breaths. He growls defiance, drawing his axe, a second weapon. They ready for another pass. It will be the last one.
[Minerva vs. Ruben, Martial: 19 + 41 + 15 (Wings Obscuring the Sky) = 75 vs. 47 + 27 + 8 (Wyvern Scale Armor) = 83; Bare Failure]
Ruben catches Hauteclere between the haft and blade of his own axe. "Arrogant pup," he spits at her, in the moment they are close enough for spitting. "I've seen more battles than you have years. And you think you're enough to kill me? You think you're enough to order me around?"
[Ruben vs. Minerva, Martial: 31 + 27 = 58 vs. 93 + 41 + 15 (Wings Obscuring the Sky) + 8 (Red Scale Armor) = 157; Critical Failure]
"I know I am." Leonidas's fangs bite down on his wyvern's throat. Minerva is watching his eye – the one not crusted shut by blood – to see the moment he winces as the pain reaches him through his implants. In that moment of his slackening, she pushes his weapon back with a surge of strength – then withdraws, re-angles. Her next strike catches his blade on one of Hauteclere's idiosyncratic notches; her arc forces it down and to the side, leaving him open. The strike after that sees Hauteclere buried in his chest.
[Using Hauteclere: 4/9 Successes]
The green wyvern screams and rolls. Minerva and Leonidas grip tightly to each other and the enemy. The world turns around and around, until the jangling tumult ends in a blood-soaked crash.
Leonidas's desperate wingbeats blunt the impact. Their defeated opponents tear a divot into the earth nevertheless. Minerva hears the green wyvern snarl again as Leonidas resumes savaging it. If it is not in its death throes yet, it must be close. She lets go of Hauteclere and clambers closer to Ruben, hands on his shoulders, forcing him down. His eyes are hazy with pain. Before he leaves this world, she leans in close, hoping he will hear her words: "I want only one more thing of you, Ruben. Tell me why you abandoned Macedon."
"Heh…Macedon…" He coughs. "Funny how you can say that name with any respect…I used to belong to a real country, you know. One with history, and glory. It died with all the rest."
Minerva scowls. "So you think nothing of Iote's dream, then?"
"Iote was a great man! You're not fucking," he coughs, spitting blood, his temporary fury too much for him to maintain. "…not worthy…to say his name. He stood against tyranny. With your tyrant brother as king, his dream is dead now. Who could stand to live in Macedon anymore?"
She shoves against him, drawing a pained grunt. "My brother's no tyrant!"
"What else can you call a man who kills his own father to sell out his people to aliens? A Quisling?"
She runs that sentence through her head, once, twice. It doesn't make any sense, even though she recognizes every single word. "…What?"
"Oh…Hah!" He coughs again. Pressed so close, she can smell the death creeping up on him. "I always thought you were a bootlicker, Minerva. But it turns out…you're also…a complete moron…"
She leaves him. The disrespect, the baffling lie in his last words – it eats at her like acid, makes her chest heave, but she will bury it for now. There is a battle going on, and she is still well enough to fly. She and Leonidas pry themselves free from the corpses and take flight.
[How have the Wolfguard fared?]
[Wolfguard vs. Ruben's Dragoons, Martial; 05 + 28 + 5 (Coyote's Leal) + 5 (Epona) = 43 vs. 33 + 20 = 53; Failure]
[Ruben's Dragoons vs. Wolfguard, Martial; 51 + 20 = 71 vs. 34 + 28 + 5 (Coyote's Leal) + 5 (Epona) = 72; Bare Failure]
The Wolfguard seem to have succeeded in leading the dragoons on a chase, but the enemy's numbers are telling. They cannot run forever. It's too bad for everyone involved that Minerva is no longer in a good mood.
[Caeda vs. Ruben's Dragoons, Martial; 01 + 17 = 18 vs. 03 + 20 = 23; Critical Failure but the enemy can't really capitalize on it]
[Minerva vs. Ruben's Dragoons, Martial; 54 + 41 + 15 (Wings Obscuring the Sky) = 110 vs. 95 + 20 = 115; Bare Failure]
Caeda is on the ground. What is she – she's trying to pry her lance from the wyvern. Idiot girl! She's leaving herself perfectly open to attack! Minerva has Leonidas sweep back down and yells, "Get back in the air! You're vulnerable!" As she scrambles to obey, Minerva blasts through the middle of the enemy formation. Wyverns scatter in all directions, aborting their attacks to focus on this new opponent. She hisses through her teeth in frustration. She really wanted to hit something.
The Wolfguard archers take advantage of the temporary lull to sight arrows and fire. A dracoknight trying to switch directions falls from the sky.
[Ruben's Dragoons vs. Minerva, Martial; 93 + 20 = 113 vs. 85 + 41 + 15 (Wings Obscuring the Sky) + 8 (Red Scale Armor) = 149; Failure]
[Minerva vs. Ruben's Dragoons, Martial; 99 + 41 + 15 (Wings Obscuring the Sky) = 155 vs. 71 + 20 = 91; Solid Success]
[Using Hauteclere: 6/9 Successes]
A nest of beating wings descends on Minerva and Leonidas. All they give her is an opportunity to strike at them. Hauteclere splits scales and red teeth tear flesh. When the pass ends, Minerva is breathing heavily, euphorically. She remembers to check on her wingmates and finds Caeda still trying to gain altitude and find her angle.
[Caeda vs. Ruben's Dragoons, Martial; 07 + 17 = 24 vs. 64 + 20 = 84; Solid Failure]
All she has left are javelins, and she's just wasted another one with a throw that was never going to make it. Minerva was green too, once, but oh God, that doesn't make this any less painful to watch.
[Wolfguard vs. Ruben's Dragoons, Martial; 93 + 28 + 5 (Coyote's Leal) + 5 (Epona) = 131 vs. 17 + 20 = 37; Critical Success] [Ruben's Dragoons vs. Wolfguard, Eliminated by Critical Success]
The Wolfguard, on the other hand, know exactly how to recover their lost momentum. More wyverns fall under a rain of arrows and the dragoons that dive in to attack find nothing but death. Minerva watches as Hardin's flashing sword disappears into a diving wyvern's open maw. The wyvern chokes and thrashes. Hardin spurs his horse to speed up; hand and sword pull free in a spray of mixed fluids. That went into the brain, she judges. Very skillful.
[Ruben's Dragoons vs. Minerva, Martial; 60 + 20 = 80 vs. 87 + 41 + 15 (Wings Obscuring the Sky) + 8 (Red Scale Armor) = 151; Solid Failure]
[Minerva vs. Ruben's Dragoons, Martial; 19 + 41 + 15 (Wings Obscuring the Sky) = 75 vs. 42 + 20 = 62; Success]
More of the dracoknights stay in the sky, circling her. Are they scared to approach? Poor them. She's not. The wind screams as she chooses a knight yet unwounded and scores a clean hit against their torso. Perhaps their armor will save them from death, but she has managed to break the encirclement. She does not truly fancy the thought of being ganged up on, not when she's thinking with her whole head.
The enemy morale is breaking. They must have seen the green-armored corpse of their leader, sprawled out on the ground; they must have counted their dwindling numbers. The first to flee is another red dragoon. The second to flee is a black.
[Caeda vs. Fleeing Dragoons, Martial; 82 + 17 = 99 vs. 51 + 20 = 71; Success]
[Minerva vs. Fleeing Dragoons, Martial; 19 + 41 + 15 (Wings Obscuring the Sky) = 75 vs. 25 + 20 = 45; Failure]
[Using Hauteclere: 7/9 Successes]
Caeda remembers the plan, bless her. She heads them off. Minerva would join her – pushes Leonidas to join her – but he is shuddering, again. The distance between them is growing.
Red wyverns are strong and aggressive, with fine teeth and claws. They are not, however, able to fly for ages without tiring. If they descend now, Minerva knows it will be a long time before he is able to take flight again.
Keep pushing. A little longer.
[Fleeing Dragoons vs. Caeda, Martial; 31 + 20 = 51 vs. 41 + 17 = 58; Bare Failure]
They see a lone pegasus knight and think to quickly knock her out of the way. She acquits herself admirably, however, darting and weaving around their attacks, always seeming just on the verge of being defeated. Perhaps she is, but it keeps them from truly cutting loose.
[Caeda vs. Fleeing Dragoons, Martial; 21 + 17 = 38 vs. 72 + 20 = 92; Solid Failure]
[Minerva vs. Fleeing Dragoons, Martial; 85 + 41 + 15 (Wings Obscuring the Sky) - 10 (Tired Mount) = 131 vs. 57 + 20 = 77; Solid Success]
…For a time. Eventually, the thought enters their heads – why bother with her, when the archers behind us are the real threat? Why not just push a little higher and soar away?
Leonidas catches up to them before they can act on it. He descends on the black rider, disdaining the heavy scales of the mount for an easier target; his talons hook under a helmet and cast it away; with another sluggish blow, they wrench through hair, scalp, and skull.
More. One more!
His wingbeats take her within range. One of her own javelins tears a hole through the red wyvern's wings. It shrieks, starting to lose altitude. It won't be a fatal landing, but it's not flying away – a rider can finish them off later. Leonidas heaves her back, to where the Wolfguard fight.
They are just mopping up. A last few dracoknights are attempting to flee, but Wolf and Sedgar's arrows put an end to that plan. Mindful of her duty, Minerva counts the corpses before landing: ένα, δύο, τρία…δέκα. Ten wyverns on the ground, when there should be eleven. Their scales are bright and the terrain is flat; the skies are clear – where? There's nowhere to hide on this blasted lea! The only break in this flat horizon is the tower itself!
…Of course. With gratitude, Leonidas accepts her command to descend. They land just outside the fort, Caeda following. Minerva unties herself from the saddle and hops down, Hauteclere in hand. "Leave your pegasus to rest," she tells the girl. "We can handle the rest ourselves."
"It's not done?" Caeda asks in confusion, noticing the axe still held ready in her hand.
"We're missing one wyvern," Minerva tells her, "and this is the only place to hide." They enter the earthen fort. Its hide door is pinned up, ajar, letting in the daylight. Minerva scans the entrance room. A few tables, cushions, bedrolls, a smouldering hearth; this was where the inhabitants did their living. A wooden ladder leads to the watchtower; Minerva doubts a wyvern could hide among its rickety wooden scaffolding, so she leaves it be. Instead, she scans the walls, the shadowed corners – but finds nothing and no one of interest.
"There's usually a cellar," Caeda offers. "The entrance would be outside, I think."
So they search the perimeter and find a pair of wooden doors, recently thrown open. Minerva crouches down to peer into the dimness. Three pairs of eyes glare back at her.
One, a violet pair, belonging to the wounded wyvern, which has squeezed its narrow body into this place and pooled in the sloping back like a liquid. It hisses.
Two, a green pair, belonging to a grubby woman with a hairstyle that was probably something to admire when she first fixed it this morning. She looks up at Minerva and Caeda with tentative, oft-betrayed hope.
Three, not technically a pair, belonging to the wyvern's eye-patched rider. She looks just as tired as everyone else, but her hand is steady as she holds a knife to the villager's throat.
There is also the raccoon, Roshea, but he is bleary-eyed, and the violet dragoon is kneeling on his chest for good measure. He is within easy throat-slitting distance, and won't be of much help. From the scorch marks on his fur, Minerva suspects he was struck by lightning, too.
The violet dragoon lets out an ugly little chuckle. "This really is a rotten day."
"It's you!" Caeda cries. "The mage dragoon!"
"What a coincidence that we should meet again. One could almost call that the basis for a friendship." The thin layer of false sweetness cracks to reveal the tension – the desperation – beneath. A cornered animal needs to be handled carefully, Minerva thinks. Wyverns can be deadly in their death throes, and wyvern riders take after them. "Now, since we're friends, that means we can make a deal, right? There's no need for anyone else to die today. This lady and the little wolf, you can have them back."
"Raccoon," the captive corrects her, very quietly.
"He's a raccoon, actually," says Caeda.
"Raccoon…" mumbles Roshea. "I'm a raccoon."
"Wha—isn't he a part of the Wolfguard?" Neither her knife nor her gaze waver as she hisses her question.
"It's a common misconception," Caeda explains, ever-helpful, "but the Wolfguard is actually named after—"
"I do not care! I could not fucking care less!" the dragoon roars. Deciding to just ignore the girl, her eye bores into Minerva. She pleads, "I just want to go free with my wyvern. That's fine, right?"
Minerva stares down coldly. "And where do you think you'll go if I let you?"
"Anywhere! I –" she masters herself. "Hmph. I could say I'll return to my family or leave to seek my fortune in the City, or devote myself to Naga and become a fucking hermit, but you wouldn't believe me, would you? You know I'll say whatever it takes to live through this day. So…you're just going to have to trust me." She tries to give Minerva a winning smile. It instead comes off as rather demented.
[Can Caeda salvage the situation? Diplomacy, Difficulty 50: 66 + 14 + 30 (Do you believe in love?) = 110; Critical Success]
"…I trust you," Caeda says. The dragoon immediately shoots her a look that suggests that she thinks that that statement is a lie. "You don't really want to hurt that woman, do you?"
"I will. I swear, I will kill her—"
"Mm-hm, you'll kill her if you think it's necessary to survive. But you haven't killed Sir Roshea, even though you've had plenty of opportunity." The dragoon looks down at the Uplift for a moment, as if asking, Why didn't I do that? Caeda smiles. "What's your name, sir?"
"…Zanza. I don't – what's your point?"
"My point is that you're not an evil man, Zanza. What were you doing with these bandits, anyway?"
"Zanza swore to follow Ruben in battle, along with the rest of the wing. It's a common custom in Macedon." Minerva tilts her head. "Also, I'm pretty sure she's a woman."
"Wait, really?" Caeda peers deeper into the cellar. "Are you a man or a woman, Sir – ah, Zanza? It's hard for me to tell."
"Yes, that's the idea," Zanza agrees.
"I am fairly certain that you used to ride a pegasus," Minerva points out.
"Oh, pegasi and me don't get along well these days," Zanza says flippantly.
"I have never heard of someone losing the ability to ride a pegasus," Minerva starts to argue, before being interrupted by the hostage, who hisses out a sound of exasperation.
"Is this relevant?" she asks.
"…So, the thing about Commander Ruben is…" Zanza begins, then sighs, sinks their knife into the earth (the Aurelian woman untenses, sinking her face into her hands), then begins again. "I – owe him a lot. Owed him. He took me in, when I had a wyvern chick and nothing else in the world, and he sponsored me to get the implants and showed me how to use them. I'll admit, that was a lie about going back to my family. I'm not going back to that house. So when he had his fit of political pique, what else could I do, but follow Commander Ruben to the ass-end of Archanea?" They look at the villager they were recently holding hostage. "I'd say, 'no offense,' but you already hate me regardless, so…offense was meant! Your country sucks!"
"Drink piss and die, Macedonian bandit," the woman replies.
"Hold on," says Roshea. "Are you going to get off of me?"
"I don't know," Zanza asks mockingly, "am I, little wolf?"
Minerva sighs. The conversation is once again getting off track. Leaving Hauteclere behind, she drops down into the cellar, surprising everyone else inside. "What I'm hearing is that you don't object to my brother as king, Zanza. Is that correct?"
Zanza shrugs. Then, as if physically repressing the urge to be irreverent, they look Minerva in the eyes and say with painful sincerity: "I do not care who sits on the throne of Macedon."
Minerva holds out a hand, and they take it, standing up. (Roshea lets out a wheeze and tries to scramble out of the way). "Come back to Macedon with me, and I'll see what I can do for your wyvern."
"Its name is Lægjarn, and I'm perfectly capable of treating its wounds myself," Zanza announces. "…But thank you for the offer anyway."
They walk out into the open to find the Wolfguard stacking bodies and wrapping wounds or, in Vyland's case, daubing wounds with dirt. "Roshea!" the Goron greets them. "Was that the only captive? Sure took you a while to find her."
"Do you have any water?" the woman asks. As the Wolfguard take care of her, Minerva finds Sedgar – the machine-man – over by the pile of corpses. He is systematically searching and looting each one before heaving it onto the growing pile. He's building quite a stack of boots.
"I want a share," Minerva says. "Three-tenths. And one-tenth for Caeda, here." Hearing the girl begin to protest, she turns her head and firmly says, "Caeda. When someone is offering to pay you, you let them. And when possible, establish the shares to be paid ahead of time. Many an expedition has fallen to infighting over a minor bauble."
When he speaks, Sedgar's voice is eerie, grating, with a metallic edge. "Take your pick of the bodies. There's not that much here, anyway. But everything in the fort belongs to Aurelis." He begins to walk away.
"Go look at that pile, pick a quarter of it for yourself," Minerva tells the young pegasus knight in a soft voice. Uncertain, she creeps over – closer to the barely-clothed bodies – avoiding looking at them, until she does, and then she stands there for a few moments as the enormity of what she's done today hits her all at once.
Minerva was expecting something like that. She places a hand on the girl's shoulder and gently turns her until she's facing a clean spot of grass to be sick on. She gives Caeda another comforting pat. "First battle? This happens to everybody. Don't worry." Then she ambles off after Sedgar.
The eerie machine-man has found another fallen wyvern. The rider is long dead, but the beast is still moving. As she watches, he circles around its lashing jaws, drawing a sword; he attempts to jam the blade between the ribs, but it penetrates only weakly. He'll never make any progress that way; it's where the scales are thickest. Minerva crouches in the grass. As the dying beast cranes its head to look at Sedgar with hateful eyes, she springs forward, hacking deep into its angled neck. With one more heave, it is done and dead.
"…Thanks." She can't read Sedgar's expressions at all behind that featureless faceplate. There might not be a face there.
"It's no problem." She unworks the ties holding the rider to the saddle and Sedgar hefts the body and begins dragging it back to the pile. Even after she's claimed all the loot to be had from it. "I'll also be taking the skulls," she mentions.
Sedgar stops. It's odd – his movements look mostly normal, but he can just stop, and stay that way, where a human or animal would relax into a more natural position. "Come again?"
"I'll cut off their heads. My brother, the king, would want me to bring them home. As proof of their fate."
"I understand. But Coyote mentioned something similar."
"You all can have the wyvern skulls. I'm sure your countrymen will find those much more impressive." Since he doesn't seem inclined to resume, Minerva hefts the body – with much more effort, how strong is he – and starts dragging it herself. "Is that acceptable?"
"I'll ask Coyote." He is polite enough to help her carry the body the rest of the way; he does not help her with the rest. The rudeness makes her sigh, but it confirms her theory.
She may be the least intelligent of her siblings, but she is not – burn in hell, Ruben – a complete moron.
---
Minerva stays the night at the fort. She is eager to leave, but the hour is too late, Leonidas and Lægjarn need their rest, and there is work for her to do. She and Zanza build a campfire and spend hours hacking off heads and immersing them in boiling water, until the flesh falls off the bone. When they are done, a stack of ten skulls lie drying and a thick, wet layer of metallic slurry (and several larger bits) lies at the bottom of the fort's larger cookpot.
"I don't think anyone should use this pot to make food ever again," Zanza mutters, looking rather green. For all their dark humor, it's clear that doing this to fallen friends and comrades has been difficult for them.
Minerva takes the pot and, for good measure, starts shoveling burning matter into it with a fire poker. This releases a cloud of steam and an evil smell, but the flames remain burning. They burn green now, though.
She kicks the pot into the fire and sighs. The exertions of the day are finally catching up to her. "I think that's good enough, if we let the fire go until it burns out. Go get yourself something to eat, Zanza. And bring me my bedroll. I feel like sleeping under the stars."
"Not too close to the fire, I hope," the dragoon mutters. "That smoke can't be good for you. Oh! Is that food?"
[Who arrives to bring supper to the wyvern riders, and stays to talk with Minerva as she keeps her vigil?]
[ ] Roshea, the Raccoon, the cutest little guy in Aurelis
[ ] Hardin, the Coyote, who always has a trick up his sleeve
[ ] Caeda, the Heart of Talys, who believes in love
[ ] Wolf, Coyote's Loyal Shadow, the eerie and intense namesake of the Wolfguard
But also, Oh Shit, the seed has been planted. Ruben's words are going to haunt Minerva until she discovers the real truth, and if that happens… well, it's not gonna be pretty, I'll tell you that much.
Indeed, letting Minerva run into Ruben was a mistake. I didn't know Ruben had information on Osmond's assassination. Would have planned things differently if I knew that. Course, I also didn't know Ruben was in Aurelis. So, maybe I would have stepped into this anyway.
[X] Hardin, the Coyote, who always has a trick up his sleeve
But also, Oh Shit, the seed has been planted. Ruben's words are going to haunt Minerva until she discovers the real truth, and if that happens… well, it's not gonna be pretty, I'll tell you that much.
Indeed, letting Minerva run into Ruben was a mistake. I didn't know Ruben had information on Osmond's assassination. Would have planned things differently if I knew that. Course, I also didn't know Ruben was in Aurelis. So, maybe I would have stepped into this anyway.
All I wanted to do was pay homage to a forgotten part of Fire Emblem history. But it turns out that, when no one gets your references to an obscure Japan-only spinoff game, your homage comes off as a DRAMATIC PLOT TWIST by complete accident.
Like, I did not materially change anything about Ruben. I figured someone would recognize the name when he was first mentioned. I imagined you guys would send Michalis to deal with him and then I would get to write a badass duel/debate in which Michalis has to seriously defend his actions. But, uh...those who don't know history are doomed to repeat it?
So, to recap for those who really don't know a thing about BSFE aka Archanea Saga: It's a collection of four standalone chapters with limited characters available and some other funky gameplay differences, the episodic story is set prior to Shadow Dragon and expands on the game's side characters, and though it's impossible to play in its original form nowadays thanks to the nature of the Satellaview, the chapters were remade as bonus content for FE12. Chapter 3, Red Dragoon, features Minerva and Hardin, who team up to hunt down a Macedonian deserter named Ruben even as their two countries are officially at war. When Minerva faces off with Ruben, he explains that he left because he was disgusted with Macedon's leadership, and calls out Michalis's slaying of his father in the midst of a lot of other insults. After the battle, Hardin leaves and Minerva declines to pursue him, showing that she's beginning to doubt the righteousness of her cause.
In this quest, I put Ruben in Aurelis. Thanks to voter choices, Minerva stumbled upon him and teamed up with Hardin to hunt him down, even as their two countries are officially at war. When Minerva faces off with Ruben, he explains that he left because he was disgusted with Macedon's leadership, and calls out Michalis's slaying of his father in the midst of a lot of other insults. After the battle, Minerva and the Wolfguard part peacefully, and Minerva begins to doubt the righteousness of her cause...
I want to be clear that I'm not unhappy about this result. I think this is so funny on a meta level. And the drama? The emotional turmoil? I love it.
Funnily enough, about a week or so ago (sometime after we already committed to the plan this turn) I decided to look Ruben up, and saw that he was a deserter who Minerva and Hardin team up against. My reaction was, "Oh yeah, I think I heard a little about this BSFE stuff a few years ago, neat little reference, funny how things work out," and I somehow completely missed the part where Ruben dramatically reveals Michalis' treachery.
This whole thing kind of illustrates a running problem we're going to have with Minerva. She is our best martial unit. She has a support with our second best martial unit. Mechanically, it makes sense to make her the central pillar of our military efforts. But that will probably put her into more contact with people who will shake her convictions, and if/when she turns, she'll likely take a good portion of our military with her. Too useful to sideline, but the more useful she gets, the worse it'll hurt when it all comes out. Maybe we should work on getting Michalis some more street cred, so he has a reliable crew loyal to him.
[ ] Wolf, Coyote's Loyal Shadow, the eerie and intense founder of the Wolfguard
Wolf is standing there. How quietly can he move? In the dusk, he sinks too easily between shadow and firelight, his wasted, translucent flesh simply eating up the light around him. Minerva does not like him. He does not put her at ease. But he is holding bowls of soup, and the Wolfguard have shown her honor so far. She silently calls to Leonidas, just in case.
The dozing wyvern wakes, stretches, ambles closer while she greets the Aurelian archer. He looks her straight in the eyes as he slurps first from one bowl, then the other. Only then does he hand the soup bowls to the wyvern riders.
"Thanks, chum. I've hardly ever had a meal where the cook was so polite as to prove they hadn't poisoned it," Zanza chatters. "Did you use the noodles? I'm kind of growing to like the noodles you folk make. Oh, and there was this thing of alcohol that the Commander was saving--"
"You're pushing your luck, bandit," is all he says. Wolf is clearly not a patient or talkative man.
"Did you break into the alcohol or not? Whatever, I'll go check for myself." They push past Wolf with affected casualness – Minerva sees him immediately pat all his pockets afterward. Everything must be in order, because he returns to looking at her, his brow furrowed unhappily. She feels immensely awkward, standing there with a bowl of probably-not-poisoned soup.
Well, if he has something to say, he can say it while she eats. She's too hungry to delay. Settling herself cross-legged on the ground, she brings the clay bowl to her lips and begins sipping. It is still hot, but not enough to burn her tongue.
Wolf stands there a bit longer. Eventually he sits down next to her, which surprises her. She expected him to walk away. Side by side, facing the fire, the two of them must look almost comradely.
"I do not trust you," he states.
"I could tell." Minerva continues sipping her soup. There are fresh herbs floating on top – has the Wolfguard managed some foraging today? She hadn't noticed, if so.
"You are a military leader of Macedon. You wield power both personal and political. You serve in the armies of the Dohlrian Empire. You are our enemy." He lets out a huff. "Your participation in battle today was calculated to bleed the Wolfguard more than you."
"That is all true." This is good soup.
"What exactly were you doing in Aurelis, besides looking for your deserters?" Wolf demands to know.
Minerva considers the fire a moment. It is still burning a little bit green. "What exactly would you have done with their corpses?"
He actually laughs a little. It is short and breathy, but there is some real humor in it. "You know perfectly well. Coyote was looking forward to getting a copy of your wyvern-taming tech. It's not often someone gets one over on him."
"Men who win too often can be poor at dealing with failure. It's a valuable life skill they lack." She thinks of her own brother. Just a little. Not enough to dwell on Ruben's words.
"Coyote's fine," Wolf snaps. It startles her, so she looks away from the fire and sees, for the first time, passion in that bloodless face. "He laughed. 'At least we know where to look now,' he said. And 'If the wyvern dead are ours, skin them, seems their scales make for good armor.' He is in good spirits. I, on the other hand, want to kill you."
She lets out a great sigh. Leonidas creeps closer, but she really is too tired for violence right now. "Did you poison the soup?" Maybe the herbs were the poison. He could have simply avoided them, floating on top as they were.
"No," he says, a little bitterly. "I was tempted. But it would have been…" He wrinkles his nose, searching for the right word. "…The opposite of virtue. Foolish, cowardly, and weak. No, Minerva. We will face each other in battle, eventually. And when that time comes," he smiles, "I think I can take you."
She finds herself smiling back. "You can certainly try."
After all the politics back home, the anger and stress of the people, Father's death and Michalis's recent distance, the heartache of slaying her own countrymen, it is so refreshing to meet someone who just straightforwardly says what they want of her.
"Thank you for your honesty, Wolf, and your company. I appreciate it." Minerva feels lighter, as if she's just made a new friend.
[Minerva and Wolf now support each other at Rank C!]
"Hmph," he says. But his seat looks more relaxed, as if he, too, has found some kind of relief. He lets his legs sprawl out, his glare soften; he gazes up at the stars, thinking some private thoughts. He looks more like an ordinary man than ever before. Just as she thinks that, however, she catches sight of something outlined in the play of shadow and firelight. The tilt of his head has made his hair fall back.
He has sharply pointed ears. Her brother's words echo in her head.
Aside from these flamboyant characters, it's possible that some dragons are simply quietly integrated into our society. Where do their loyalties lie now that Medeus has declared his empire? Might one agree to serve a human king?
Minerva's heart thuds. She fumbles around for some water to hide her reaction. Her drink helps cool her, somewhat. Gives her time to think. "Wolf," she asks, trying to be casual, "How old are you? You seem to have used the bow a long time."
He scoffs. "Why do people love to ask me questions like this? It doesn't matter how old I am or where I'm from or what my 'real' name is. I am Coyote's man and I lead his knights. That is all."
"…Most people have more to them than that. Even slaves had a life before they were slaves."
"I don't." There is so much complex emotion wrapped up in that short, earnest sentence. Minerva cannot even begin to decipher it. "I had no life before Coyote. Stop asking."
They sit in silence for a little while longer, but Minerva has no idea how to recover the atmosphere. Eventually she goes for seconds of the soup, and when she returns to her spot by the campfire, Wolf is no longer there.
Instead, Caeda is, wishing to discuss the splitting of the loot. She wishes to take only some spare weapons and good boots, leaving the armor and whatever small treasures they were carrying to Minerva. It is a fair arrangement and she only haggles a bit over the weapons.
[Insight from her loot choices, Intrigue, Difficulty 40; 27 + 10 + 2 (Wolf C) = 39; Bare Failure]
…Is Caeda planning to use all of those axes herself? Almost certainly not, Minerva thinks. She must be planning to give them to someone else. And those boots are definitely too big for her.
[Minerva acquires 2 Goods worth of loot from the fallen dracoknights!]
"I would like to see you again," Caeda tells her. "I…I'm very grateful for your teaching. I'm the only pegasus knight in Talys and there's so much I haven't learned. But, more than that, I feel that you are a woman of character, Princess Minerva. I would like to be friends."
"That may not be a wise idea," Minerva cautions her. "The next time I return here, it will be at the head of an army. If your king is so keen to make friends with Aurelis, I do not think we will be on the same side of that battle." The girl is so green, so tender. Minerva feels obligated to treat her with care. "I would not like to break your heart, Caeda."
The girl nods. "All that is sensible. Yet…if people on opposing sides won't talk to one another, how are we supposed to ever make peace?"
"Parley flags work pretty well."
Caeda smiles, as if Minerva had made a joke. "All right. But we're not at war yet. I will be representing Talys at General Camus's gala in Avistym. Might I see you there? Or Zanza? It will be good to see if they're adjusting well."
Minerva sighs through her teeth. "I was not planning to go. My siblings enjoy parties much more than I." Caeda looks so disappointed. "I will think about it."
When Minerva and Zanza part the next morning, laden down with loot and skulls, the pegasus knight sees them off with a friendly wave. She is the only one to do so.
---
[Intrigue: Interrogate Gharnef's Gift
Difficulty ?? 95
71+17=88, Bare Failure]
Congratulations to @Kingster for guessing the prisoner's identity. You're really, really good at this.
You are Michalis, and the Aerie is quiet. There are no guests, and the knights are out, either helping Matthis or Minerva with their assigned projects. You finally have the time to see to your…unwittingly acquired prisoner. The 'gift' from Gharnef. You know there's no real altruism in the gesture – it was calculated to tie you more tightly to Dohlr, give you a taste of the power that they could offer, or just as easily wield against you. Your skin crawls at the thought of how the Dark Pontifex infiltrated your castle. Did he stand over you as you slept, struggling to hold back laughter? Did he creep into your sisters's rooms, too?
You forge your fear into indignation, your indignation into sharp focus. You will not be gotten the better of, here. You will find the advantage in this. You enter the small cell where the prisoner has been kept. It is not uncomfortable – some people would count themselves lucky to get a private room like this. Yes, it's windowless, but most of the Aerie's rooms are; this place is tunnelled into a mountain. A small pile of books lies on the table, next to the wax stains that indicate he's been using a lot of candles. Right, Maria mentioned that she's been getting things from the library to keep him entertained.
The prisoner himself rises immediately when you enter, and bows. You say nothing at first, and simply study him. He is shorter than you, but most men are, with a young face. You estimate his age at twentyish. He looks you in the eye without fear. His eyes are a clear and striking blue; his hair is coppery red, trimmed to fall just above his shoulders. You like the look of him, that pale, tender skin. You imagine there's a world in which this handsome young man could have gotten tied up and helpless in your bedroom in a completely ordinary way, but of course fucking Gharnef loves ruining everything for everyone.
"Tell me your name," you order him.
"I am Saias Cohen," he answers in a soft, clear voice. "Am I correct in naming you King Michalis of Macedon?"
"You are." You take a seat on the lone chair. Saias sits on the bed.
"Did I say you could sit?" There is an edge to your voice. He gets back up. You search his face for uncertainty, for trepidation, but he is masking himself well. He seems completely serene.
"I would like to apologize for my discomposure when we first met, your majesty. And any I may have caused in you. For a few moments, I truly–"
You cut him off, having no desire to recall that horrifically awkward morning. "That is better off forgotten. There is no need to mention it further." The silence is still awkward.
"…Your sister, Princess Maria, has been taking good care of me," he ventures to say. "I would also like you to convey my thanks to her."
"I will do so. The question I've come here to answer is whether you are worth all that trouble. Why shouldn't I simply throw you from the Aerie, Saias Cohen?"
"It would be a logical move for you, requiring no effort on your part," he agrees readily. "Simply let me go, and I'll disappear from your life. Ah, but if you would be so kind as to transport me to my grandfather's house in the Holy Kingdom, I am sure you could collect a small ransom from him. He is a retired soldier and owns a good farm."
You raise one eyebrow high as it can go to express your withering skepticism. "This is all quite beneath a king's notice. Gharnef seemed to think that you would be of interest to me." From a sleeve, you withdraw the letter that was pinned to him when he arrived and place it on the table. Saias leans forward and you turn it around so that he may read it.
"'…valuable to certain factions in the Kingdom of Archanea.' Mm, I don't know what he's talking about there."
"You don't know." Your voice is flat with disbelief.
"My family is full of honorable soldiers, your majesty. My grandfather was part of King Adrah's armies from the first year, and now he is retired. My mother studied at Khadein to become a war-mage, and now she is dead, in the defense of her fallen kingdom. We are above reproach, but mostly beneath notice. I don't know what 'factions' there would want me. I think Gharnef is trying to manipulate you by invoking the rivalry between Macedon and the Holy Kingdom."
"So, what," you say, beginning to feel some irritation, at Saias and Gharnef both, for you're certain that you're being lied to from two corners, "the Dark Pontifex took time out of his busy day of unspeakable experiments and underhanded political maneuverings to infiltrate one of the most secure fortresses in all Archanea, solely to waste my time? Is that what you're suggesting?"
"No. I think, rather, I'm here as a hostage for someone else's good behavior." He looks up at you and, seeming a little concerned with the expression on your face, begins to explain: "You see, I am a citizen of the Holy Kingdom. But I have spent the last five years in Khadein, studying various topics. I became one of the favored students of Sage Miloah, who taught me the arts of healing and light magic."
"So Gharnef took you to ensure control over Miloah," you conclude.
"Perhaps he would have, but Sage Miloah is dead," Saias replies regretfully. "He tried to stand up to Gharnef and was destroyed for it. Sage Fjalar stood with him, and she survived with grievous wounds. I have been caring for her since then…until one evening I felt a cold hand seize my heart, and saw Sage Fjalar struggling to reach for me. Then I lost consciousness." His face is growing darker and darker. "He took me from her bedside to make a point, just as he deposited me by yours. He delights in attacking us through those things we cherish most."
He hates Gharnef. That is not surprising; everyone that has ever met Gharnef hates the man. But the vitriol in that voice, until now so pleasant, is something that takes you aback. This young man has seen Gharnef slay and torment his protectors, has lived under his terrifying rule. You think it would be fair to say he feels about Gharnef the same way you feel…about Medeus.
"Did you know that the prince and princess of Grust are currently 'enjoying' Gharnef's hospitality?" he asks you, suddenly piercing. "Children, only eight years of age. They arrived last year. Rumor has it they are the reason Ludwik marched on the Holy Kingdom. As we can observe, Gharnef has a few favored tricks. I wonder if your lovely little sister will soon disappear from her bed?"
You go cold. "…Return to the point, Saias. What are you doing here?"
"I am here because Sage Fjalar is the greatest warmage alive, and Gharnef wants her to serve him. Her wounds are well on their way to healing. She would be a potent addition to the forces of Dohlr." He shakes his head. "His forces, rather. I cannot truly believe that that man is loyal to anyone over himself."
"What makes you the key to Fjalar's loyalty? You're not her student."
"My mother was," he says softly. "There was some fondness between us, even before I spent months nursing her from the brink of death. At any rate, she has no advanced students left in Khadein. Sage Fjalar trains warmages, and those do not tend to shy away from the fight. They have all gone to serve in one army or another, and many of them are now dead."
"So," you summarize, "Gharnef's game here, according to you—"
"To the best of my knowledge," he hedges.
"To the best of your knowledge. Gharnef takes control of Khadein, killing or cowing the other sages. But he wants to ensure their loyalty and keep them from fleeing, especially this Fjalar. So he snatches up her nurse from her very bedside, sending him she-knows-not-where, but it's far away from Khadein. If she wants poor Saias to live, she'll do as he says. Meanwhile, Saias is deposited before the King of Macedon, who is told that he's a very special Archanean, and to keep him safe. The poor stupid wyvern-fucking rube obeys, cheered by the thought of getting one over on the so-called Holy Kingdom, and if the prisoner insists that he can't be used for such a purpose, well then he must be lying. Do I have the right of it, Saias?" You eye him, clearly not expecting an answer. "Don't think I haven't noticed some holes in your story. If you really are useless to me, Gharnef would know that there's nothing stopping me from releasing you once I find that out."
"I…I don't believe he has the highest opinion of your intelligence, sir."
You smile cruelly. "Is that the best you can come up with?"
He chooses not to respond.
You would like to get up and pace, but this is an extremely small room. You remain seated. "It's a convenient story," you muse, "one that, if true, would imply that I should release you. To save myself the trouble, and to deny that man a dangerous asset. I wonder if I should keep you a little longer, while I verify it."
"Go ahead," he replies, only the very smallest catch in his voice, so small you might have imagined it. "I'll tell you how to find my grandfather's house. You can interview him. Haggle over the ransom amount."
"And is this grandfather of yours the only source who can testify to your complete unnotability?" you ask playfully.
"Unnotable people tend not to be widely known, your majesty," he points out. "With my mother's death, he is my only living family. You could also ask around the Academy, I suppose. Your inquiries there would get back to Sage Fjalar eventually – ah, there's a way to blunt Gharnef's terror. Get in touch with her, by all means. Let her know that I'm all right."
"You haven't mentioned your father's family at all," you note.
"That's because—" he presses his lips together. "My father was a womanizer and a scoundrel. He was a student of Fjalar, too, and that's how my parents met. But he abandoned us long ago. I was very young. I hear he's left the continent altogether. You'll not get anything useful from him, even if you can find him." There is some bitterness there, or he's putting on a very good act.
You lean back, considering. He is lying to you about something, you're sure of it. But, whatever it is, is it really worth the time and effort of flying all about Archanea to track down all his contacts and interview them? What are the chances he can provide you with something really useful, anyway? Hm. There's a thought. He's a scholar of Khadein. Those normally cost a lot to hire. Even if his family is completely ordinary, he could be useful in and of himself.
…Notwithstanding his dubious loyalty. And the certainty that he will use any chance you give him to escape. "Say, Saias. What exactly did you study at the Academy?"
He raises his eyebrows. "Medicine and healing, mostly. But I've dabbled in other subjects as the fancy took me." You motion for him to continue. "History, Hylian studies, economics, applied theology. Light magic, as I mentioned before. I speak quite a few languages…Do you want me to work for you? If so, you'll have to pay me the same as your other staff. And I require one day off per week."
"Do you really think you're in a position to make such demands?"
"Well, your majesty, I am merely setting out the conditions under which I am willing to work, as in the beginning of a fair negotiation. To do otherwise would be slavery. Which, I am given to understand, is highly frowned upon in your country."
You sigh. "There's no salary, but as a member of my household you would have the right to sleep under my roof and eat at my table, and I would pay for the upkeep of your weapons, armor, and other equipment. Although, given the state of your hands, I don't think you'll be using much more than ink and vellum."
"Mm, actually, seeing as none of my magical foci were delivered with me, I will need to make new ones if I am to be useful to you as a mage. I have no experience casting Valentian-style. It's good to know that you're obligated to pay for that."
You purse your lips. "Will you require anything else?"
"There are several fasts and holy days for me to observe throughout the year. I am also a vegetarian, but Princess Maria has been wonderful at accommodating that."
[What are you going to do with this troublesome prisoner?]
[ ] Ransom him to his grandfather You don't really have the patience to dig into this man. You'll let him go and get a small sum for your troubles. It's what Gharnef doesn't want, so you'll content yourself with that.
[ ] Make him a full member of your household You would be over the moon to get a retainer like this in any other circumstances. However…(Get a Hero with excellent stats. Most of the information on his character sheet will be hidden, his loyalty will be dubious, and he will suffer a penalty to casting magic until you pay for new tomes and staves, which he may very well run away with).
[ ] Keep him confined, pending further investigation You don't like being lied to. You refuse to be taken advantage of. You intend to get to the bottom of this, no matter how long it takes. Saias will keep until then. (Intrigue actions will be available to investigate Saias's true past, and figure out how you can use him).
[ ] Question him more sharply You really don't like being lied to. It's time to get violent. (Make another Intrigue roll to discover Saias's secrets, at a lower difficulty. He will not be able to work as a Hero afterward. If there is anyone powerful out there who cares about Saias, this will not endear you to them.)
[X] Make him a full member of your household You would be over the moon to get a retainer like this in any other circumstances. However…(Get a Hero with excellent stats. Most of the information on his character sheet will be hidden, his loyalty will be dubious, and he will suffer a penalty to casting magic until you pay for new tomes and staves, which he may very well run away with).
First time voting here Fan of FE so this is been a enjoyable experience.
