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Chapter Text

As he kneeled before his emperor, Glen couldn’t help but wonder. It had been only five months since the invasion of Renais, but those five months were enough to send everything he had ever known into a whorl of confusion. They’d attacked their closest ally, murdered her king, devastated her army, refused to help her people, and even now continued pursuing the remnants of the direct royal family.

“General Glen of the Grado Imperial Army, also known as the Sunstone…”

“Yes…”

Glen purposely did not address him with the proper formalities. If Vigarde were the same man that he knew, he wouldn’t make any remark about it, but he would raise an eyebrow at the disrespect. However, this time…

“Your orders.” When Glen snuck a peek, Vigarde’s expression remained as stony as ever, and Glen’s blatant disrespect did not seem to stir him in the slightest. “Capture the leader of the rebel army in Carcino. Capture Eirika.”

Eirika.

Glen kept his eyes on the steps leading to the throne, afraid to lift his eyes lest they betray his thoughts. “Eirika… Do you mean the princess of Renais?”

“Eirika invaded Carcino. She massacred the citizens of Port Kiris. Then, she fled south. Glen. Go. Crush the rebels who brought ruin to Carcino.”

Glen stepped out of the throne room. As the soldiers guarding the entryway pushed the heavy doors shut, he snuck in a quiet sigh, hoping the loud creaking of the doors would cover it up. He walked down the hall, and saw a mess of blonde hair that matched his. Cormag was waiting for him. Upon hearing his footsteps, Cormag turned his head to face him.

“What did the Emperor say, Brother?”

Glen put on his best neutral face to show Cormag. As the elder brother, he had the duty of guiding his younger brother. He had to be Cormag’s ideal mentor and general, showing no hesitation or doubt in his duty… regardless of his true feelings.

“I've been ordered to kill the princess of Renais. Cormag, I want you to remain here in the capital. I’ll go alone.”

“Brother.”

His voice carried a tone of concern that Glen wished wasn’t there. As usual, Cormag saw right through him. However, he didn’t expect the words that came out of Cormag’s mouth next.

“I’m going with you.”

Cormag always obeyed anything he said without question, looked to him for guidance. Never before had Cormag openly defied his instructions, so Glen was well aware of the open shock on his face.

He didn’t know how Cormag interpreted his expression, but the younger brother continued. “You’ve been hesitant lately. Uncertain. This isn’t like you.”

Glen clenched a hand, which were placed behind his back so Cormag couldn’t see, into a fist. It was true, certainly, but hearing it so plainly made him wonder just how badly he was masking his emotions. Hopefully, it was only Cormag who saw through him so easily…

And how could he tell Cormag “I need you to stay here?” He and Cormag both knew that if it were up to him, he’d have Cormag by his side forever. He told Cormag to stay behind for one reason: to give him a reason not to defect from Grado.

He’d been at his limits for how much atrocities he could tolerate having a hand in, but his emperor calling Princess Eirika a murderer who massacred citizens of a city? This was simply in the realm of blatant lies, if not complete madness. Normally, he would have no problem apprehending anyone who displayed such behavior, like Valter before he was reinstated into the Grado army. But he’d met Eirika some years ago, and she was a girl of great kindness. He doubted that, even in the face of war and all that Grado had done to her, this part of her being would ever be shaken.

And, in the light of all Grado had done in the past several months, leading a liberation army against them sounded more reasonable than whatever he was being ordered to do. It pained Glen to admit this, but if he had the chance, he would defect from Grado. A part of him wished he had Selena’s determination to follow her emperor to the end, but both his heart and mind screamed at him that everything they were doing was wrong. Where was the compassion Vigarde had shown to him when he was a child, taking him and Cormag out of their barren fields and giving them a place in the army? Where was the mercy Vigarde had shown to Selena and her village, when he pardoned their inability to pay taxes and even sent them relief?

Nowhere. The Emperor Vigarde that he pledged to serve was nowhere to be found, even if his body and flesh were in front of him.

Because of this, Glen ordered Cormag to remain behind. Because of Cormag stayed in the capital, it was effectively turning Cormag into a hostage in exchange for his continued loyalty to Vigarde. There was nothing left for him in Grado otherwise. Nothing to stop him from defecting.

“—If you can’t do it, then—”

Glen realized that Cormag was still talking to him. He didn’t want to hear any more. He was given his duties, and he’d accomplish it, whether Cormag came with him or not.

“Fine. If you want to come, then follow me. We depart at dawn.” He cut Cormag off and brushed past him, not bothering to look his brother in the eye.

Even though he was the one who treated Cormag so curtly, he felt a slight pang of loneliness when Cormag didn’t chase after him.

When he entered the war room, Caellach was lounging in one of the sofas, talking to the standing blonde-haired man whom Glen knew to be another former Jehannan mercenary: The Great Knight Aias, a talented strategist whom he had in fact clashed with once, before the war. Aias gave Glen a curt nod of acknowledgement while Caellach flashed a smirk.

He and Caellach got along surprisingly decently; perhaps it was their mutual distaste for Valter and Riev, and because he didn’t hound Caellach over anything. They weren’t on the line of friends, and Caellach certainly wasn’t Glen’s first choice for anything, but they respected each other’s strength. And again, Caellach wasn’t Valter.

“You look to be in a hurry.”

“I have orders from His Majesty. The sooner it gets done, the better.”

Caellach gave a slight shrug with one arm in agreement, and Glen looked at their map of the continent.

There were various pieces strewn around the map, representative of their forces and the forces of other countries. Eirika, signified by a Queen piece used in chess, was on Port Kiris. If the intelligence they received from Councilman Pablo was correct, two forces from Frelia Castle had moved to pass through Carcino; one led by Prince Innes that was going through Carcino to Jehanna, and the other led by Princess Eirika. It seemed that Eirika intended to travel to Rausten, and Councilman Pablo had his mercenaries move to arrest her in Port Kiris.

Furthermore, Councilman Pablo reported that he and his mercenaries would cut down Prince Innes’ forces for Grado’s sake. But could he really follow through on that? It wasn’t too long ago that Frelia’s army, under that same Prince Innes’ command, had halted even Grado’s assault. Glen wasn’t there for most of it; when he received news that the assault was faring badly, he had rushed in to take over command and organize their retreat. In the brief moments of their clash, Prince Innes established himself a formidable opponent, both in tactical command and on the battlefield.

On top of that, the Grado army had sent a couple of troops to Carcino to aid in Councilman Pablo’s arrest of Eirika. They had orders to return if it seemed that the mercenaries weren’t doing well, but none of them seemed to have returned. It was unfortunate, but they were likely killed in a clash against Eirika’s forces. As soldiers, death constantly loomed over them, and Glen could accept their deaths as a matter of war. Vigarde had claimed, however, that Eirika invaded Carcino and massacred civilians. Yet none of the intelligence Glen had received indicated such. If anything, Carcino lured Eirika into a trap, and Eirika had fought in self-defense.

At the same time, in all the time that Glen had served Emperor Vigarde, His Majesty never spoke a falsehood even once. On that account, he had a duty to believe Vigarde’s words and obey Vigarde’s commands.

But His Majesty is a completely new man… All the evidence I have say that the words he spoke to me are lies… Could His Majesty have some way of finding out information that our spies cannot?

“You look like you’re thinking about something mean, aren’t’cha?” Caellach’s bemused remark broke Glen out of his thoughts.

Glen masked the thoughts running through his mind, more for himself than anyone, asking, “Have there been any more reports on Prince Ephraim, Prince Innes, or Princess Eirika?”

Caellach turned to Aias, who spoke for him. “Prince Ephraim and his forces seem to have conquered Fort Rigwald. The commander has been killed, and the remaining forces surrendered. Generals Duessel and Selena have been dispatched to face Ephraim at Bethroen. Councilman Pablo launched his assault on Prince Innes and has cut through most of the Frelian forces, but the Prince and some of his mercenaries remain in a fort and are holding out. Princess Eirika has abandoned her route to Rausten in favor of reinforcing Prince Innes.”

“General Duessel and General Selena to Bethroen, huh…?”

I have a sinking feeling that Selena isn’t there to aid Duessel… And sending Duessel after Prince Ephraim, whom he mentored before this whole war? …Is this a test for Duessel? If that’s a test, then my orders are…

“I’m telling you, Aias, the Imperial Three have it rough.” When it was clear that he had Glen’s attention, Caellach continued, looking straight into Glen’s eyes. “Isn’t that right, Wyvern General?”

“Think what you will.”

Before Glen could make a move to leave, the door to the room opened and Valter stepped in, lance by side. Aias shifted, perhaps to move closer to his axe that currently laid against the sofa. Caellach leaned back in his sofa, as if in anticipation for the inevitable confrontation between the two wyvern generals.

“Oh, so this is where you are, Glen.” Valter’s mouth twisted into a sneer. Glen opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Valter continuing with “You left your dear little brother in a twist back there, didn’t you?”

Damn! I should’ve known he would be listening in…

“My issues are not yours to hear, Valter,” Glen spoke carefully. Did he say something to Cormag? Did he report them to Emperor Vigarde? He carefully analyzed the other man, who stepped closer to him, and shifted his hand closer to the sword that hung by his side.

“Is that, now? Perhaps you shouldn’t speak so openly if you don’t want to be heard. What if His Majesty heard that you’re having doubts about him? Even Cormag sees it. Did you think you could hide it for long?”

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten,” Glen shot back, “That it was His Majesty who granted you leniency years ago, and merely had you exiled instead of executed for a capital offense. What lies have you told to receive both pardon and reinstatement at the same time?”

“Our beloved emperor felt my skills were needed, and his word is law. His Majesty has earned my sincerest and most undying gratitude.” Valter chuckled. “And then we have you three. Duessel, Selena, and you… The three of you have proven to be unreliable time and time again. We were brought in to plug the holes, don't you see? You ought to thank me, Glen!”

Glen scoffed, but spoke no further. When he moved to pass Valter, though, Valter suddenly raised his lance, and Glen leapt back to put space between them.

“Is this how you treat your peer knights of the realm, Glen? Ignore them when they teach you something? Perhaps I ought to make sure you can’t forget…”

“What are you playing at, Valter?” Glen placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, preparing to draw it in case.

Before the situation could escalate further, the sound of an object being thrown caught their attention before a hand axe flew between them, embedding itself in the wall. Caellach tsked from where now stood, having gotten out of his sofa to throw the axe.

“Now, now, no fighting among ourselves,” he remarked in a patronizing tone. He jabbed his chin at Valter, indicating who he was speaking to. “Besides, what the hell is ‘we were brought in to plug the holes’? Weren’t you supposed to capture Prince Ephraim at Renvall? What happened there? You had a battalion and a traitor from their side, and three men still escaped you. Which hole’re you plugging up, your ass?”

Valter glowered at the interruption and insult, but fell silent, and made no move to stop Glen when he walked past. Glen opened the heavy door, then turned to Valter, whose back was turned to him. “Mark my words, Valter: your crimes are neither forgotten nor forgiven.”

As the door closed behind him, Glen registered Valter’s quiet “hmph” and knew that the man was glaring at his direction even if he couldn’t see it. But he had greater concerns to deal with, though he kept a hand on his hilt just in case.

At sunrise, Glen felt vaguely surprised when he found Cormag among those waiting for him at the wyvern stables when he arrived. Glen picked two other wyvern riders, Matthias and Justus, to accompany him north, and they were finishing the preparations for their wyverns as well.

“You ready?” Glen gave a hearty thump on Cormag’s back, and to his relief, Cormag shot back a grin.

“You really need to ask? Genarog and I are always ready.”

Matthias looked over from where he was packing Larissa’s bags. “You mean that Genarog’s always ready to bite someone’s face off?”

Cormag smirked. “Shouldn’t’ve played games with his meal if you didn’t want to worry about him eating you instead.”

“Larissa isn’t even half as mean as Genarog,” Matthias complained. “Isn’t that right, Larissa?” His wyvern screeched, though apparently Genarog took offense either to Matthias’ remark or whatever Larissa may have said, as he screeched back at them.

“Gods, what is Genarog screeching about now?!”

“Don’t piss him off, Matthias!” Justus teased, calling down to Matthias from where he sat atop of Andrassy. “He might actually eat you this time.”

Genarog screeched what seemed to be an agreement, earning him a chiding from Cormag. “Hush, Genarog! It’s too early for this. C’mon, let’s get ready to go.”

Glen had already packed everything for Sieghart earlier, so he mounted the saddle and patted his wyvern’s head. “We move out!”

“You left your dear little brother in a twist back there, didn’t you?”

Valter’s words rang in his mind as they set of for Carcino. Matthias and Justus knew Glen’s plan—he told them, as fellow riders disgruntled by the army’s recent actions—but Cormag didn’t.

You’ve looked up to me as a model brother and general all these years, Cormag… Forgive me…

“Brother…”

Cormag shot Glen a questioning look, a verbal warning of sorts. They’d tarried in Renais territory for nearly a day now, cleaning up bandit groups. Most of them were strong enough to harass villagers, but not organized enough to take on trained military personnel, so they were easy to mop up.

“I know, Cormag. We’re just passing through the area.”

“This is the fifth bandit hideout we’ve tackled.”

Matthias laughed at Cormag’s annoyance as he waited for Larissa to finish drinking from the stream. “That’s some pretty good time, isn’t it?”

Cormag shot him a glare. “This isn’t our mission. Even if we are helping people,” he admitted.

“Who cares?” Matthias shrugged. When Cormag stared at him this time, he continued, “Don’t look at me like that. There’s nobody around to help them now. We may as well.”

“Didn’t His Majesty assign someone from Renais to handle things around here?”

“Sir Orson. A traitor to the Knights of Renais. He doesn’t seem to be doing much of anything, though,” Glen scoffed.

“Still—”

Justus placed a hand on Cormag’s shoulder. “Don’t worry so much, Cormag. His Majesty never said we can’t help ‘em. Princess Eirika won’t vanish into thin air.”

Glen gave a dry laugh. “Not unless Valter decides to reach her first. Well, she’ll probably wish she could vanish into thin air if he did.”

Andrassy suddenly shifted, catching the attention of the four men. He backed away from a bush, and some rustling could be heard. Justus looked at the others and nodded before approaching with lance ready at hand.

A tense several seconds of silence passed, and then Justus’ voice rang out with a cheerful “Oh, ‘ello there! No need to be afraid!”

Another voice that reacted to his, while they couldn’t see its owner, definitely belonged small child. True enough, a little girl no older than five and another girl who looked to be around ten crawled out from the bushes. The little girl seemed fascinated, though the older one held her close. From their shared heart-shaped faces to their earth-green hair to their bright blue eyes, they were surely sisters. Their plain clothes revealed them to be commoners, likely scrounging the area for food now that their country was in shambles.

“Woah!” The little girl tried to escape her sister’s grasp, to no avail. Settling for just staring at the object of her interest, she continued, “Dragons!”

“Wyverns,” her sister corrected. Her voice was clearly gripped by fear, but Glen had to commend her for having enough self-control to keep herself from physically shaking and having enough strength to restrain her sister, especially given her apparent age.

“She’s right.” Matthias walked over to them and bent on one knee to get closer to their eye level while Justus kept a look out to ensure it wasn’t a trap. “These are wyverns. Wanna say hi to one?” When the younger girl gave an eager nod, he waved Larissa over. “This is my wyvern. Her name is Larissa. Say hi, Larissa!”

Glen was glad the girl had no interest in Genarog, who had walked behind Cormag in an effort to hide himself from this loud, curious intruder. Larissa was much friendlier and simply peered at the girl curiously before allowing herself to be pet by eager hands.

“Mary! They feel funny!” The girl looked back at her sister even as she pet Larissa.

Mary nodded nervously, and with responded with a small “That’s good.” She spotted one of bandit corpses, and gasped. “Mira!” She yanked the girl away from Matthias and Larissa, shielding her sister with her body.

Matthias raised his hands and motioned with his head for Larissa to back away slightly. “Woah, woah! We’re not here to hurt you. These guys here were bandits. Probably not the sort you want around.”

“Bandits…?” Mary’s eyes widened. “Have you—have you seen a man with dark brown hair? May-maybe wearing a golden pendant?” Her face fell when she was met with uncertain looks.

Cormag pointed to his left with his thumb. “I think they had a treasure stash over there, but I haven’t seen any prisoners or anything.”

Mary stood up quickly, while Mira looked between her sister and Larissa in confusion. Glen looked away and closed his eyes in pity. He could make out the situation—their father was probably abducted by bandits, but Mira was still too young to completely understand the situation. “Please,” Mary pleaded, “can I see?”

Cormag nodded and the two sisters followed, though Mira stole glances back at Larissa. When the three were out of earshot, Justus shook his head. “I feel bad for them. Don’t think they’re gonna find anything.”

“Not to mention that foul odor in the opposite direction,” Matthias added. “Not too many guesses as to what any prisoner’s fate here was.”

Glen looked to the sky. It was quickly approaching dusk, and he wasn’t sure where the girls lived. On one hand, he didn’t want them to have to return to their village by themselves and risk getting attacked, but on the other hand, he and his men were still Grado soldiers. Mingling too much with them could potentially lead to a dangerous situation for either party. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it, though, as a wail rose from the direction of the bandit’s treasure stash and confirmed their suspicions.

When Glen arrived at their location, Mary sat on the ground, sobbing into her arms that rested on the wooden crate. From her clutched hand was a gold chain, undoubtedly part of the pendant she had pointed out earlier.

“Mary? Where’s Papa?” Mira didn’t register all the implications, instead tugging at Mary’s sleeve with tear-rimmed eyes. “You keep saying Papa, but I don’t see him!” Hearing no response from her sister, she continued, “Mary? Why are you crying? Where’s Papa?”

Cormag looked at Glen, at a loss for what to do. Glen motioned for Larissa to come to him before walking up to Mira and bending on one knee.

“Mira.” She looked at him after rubbing her eyes dry. “Mary is talking to Papa in a special way right now,” he explained. “Here, sit with Larissa for a while until she’s done. Larissa will stay right here, so you can see Mary, okay?”

Wyverns were smart creatures, and Larissa appeared to have picked up on the situation, laying down so it was easier for Mira to stay by her side. Mira sat next to Larissa and continued stroking the back of her neck, though she kept an eye on her sister’s figure, still shaking from sobs.

Matthias elbowed Glen once he stood up. “I take it we’re setting up camp for the night?” He nodded, and Matthias left after beckoning Cormag to follow, leaving the three alone.

It was a while before Mary’s sobs subsided, leaving only sniffling and an occasional hiccup from crying too hard. Glen looked away even though there was no need to, mostly because the sound dredged up memories of his own mother when his father had died many winters ago. He looked back when he heard the shuffling of fabric, and saw that she had sat up.

“Oh…” Mary looked at her sister, who had dozed off on Larissa. “It’s almost—it’s almost dark, isn’t it?”

Glen tossed a glance upwards. “Pretty dark, I’d say. Are you sure you can get back to the village like this? I’d accompany you, but…”

“It’s alright.” Her weak smile made him avert his eyes for a second. “I’m sure the villagers are worried. Someone’s probably looking for us. Mira, wake up.”

Gently shaking her sister awake, she picked up the girl when it was clear that Mira was still too drowsy to walk. After placing the pendant into the pouch by her waist, she mustered a tired smile. “Thank you. If it weren’t for you, the bandits would still be here—and I wouldn’t have found Papa’s pendant.”

Scrounging up words to say, Glen responded, “It’s the least I could do.” He paused. “We’re the reason why this all happened, anyways.”

She turned to the rest of the treasure stash. “I know some of the other stuff in the pile. I think they belonged to other people from my village… I’ll tell the elders when I get back. I’m sure they’ll want it… Thank you. Even though you’re from Grado, you’re nothing like your emperor.”

Glen’s voice caught in his throat, and he could only nod and see them off as they disappeared into the trees.

When he rejoined his companions by the fire they’d set up, Justus held out a piece of roasted meat to him. He took it and ate it in silence. Matthias gave Larissa a rough pat on her snout with a “Ya did good, Larissa. Didn’t bite her head off like Genarog would,” which earned a small chuckle among the others.

Cormag watched his brother for a little bit before piping up. “We should probably leave early morning. Mary was understanding, but I dunno about the rest of them.” Glen nodded, and before Cormag could say anything else, Justus gestured for him to stop, and Cormag didn’t say anything else to him for the rest of the night.

Even though Justus was on night watch, Glen found himself unable to sleep. Finding the ground too uncomfortable to lay on, he sat up in his blanket and leaned against Sieghart, who was also still awake.

Mary was only a child who probably knew nothing about the world outside her village. She had no idea what Emperor Vigarde was really like. But at the same time, it was for those two reasons that her words pierced more than any jab that Caellach or Valter could throw at him.

“Even if you’re from Grado, you’re nothing like your emperor.”

The more that phrase repeated in his head, the more Glen became uncomfortably aware that he hadn’t even protested it. He could brush his failure to defend Vigarde’s name on the fact that Mary was a mere child who just discovered her father’s passing. But the bigger issue was not only did he not say anything to defend Vigarde, he found himself agreeing with her.

Some general I am. In times like these, when I’m supposed to follow my liege to the death, I’m instead entertaining ideas of treason… If only I had Selena’s determination.

So distracted was he by his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Justus’ approach until Sieghart smacked him with his tail.

“Sie—oh, Justus?” He kept his voice at a whisper as to not awaken his snoring companions. Justus’ dirty blonde curls were illuminated by the fire, and even though most of his face was framed by shadow, Glen could tell he was suppressing a chuckle. He moved to sit next to Glen, and Glen shifted on his blanket so Justus could sit on it.

“Well, General, do you have a Plan B in mind?”

“Plan B?”

“If Princess Eirika doesn’t believe you. Or I guess, how are we going to know who’s telling the truth? If we just asked ‘Did you actually murder people,’ obviously she’ll say no even if she did, you know?”

He nodded. There was always a slight chance that his intel was wrong, and Emperor Vigarde was right all along. After all, Prince Innes also commanded an impressive intelligence network. The possibility that he had agents feeding incorrect information to Grado was there. But… he wasn’t sure which outcome he wanted. If it was all a lie, then he could follow Vigarde’s orders without hesitation, but he’d also have to tolerate all the other atrocities Vigarde had committed and would probably continue to commit. If his suspicions were correct, then he’d have to betray his oaths and his homeland, but he’d be choosing the just side… And then there was the matter of Cormag. Cormag usually followed his orders, but as his presence here proved, he was starting to do his own thing. Glen was glad that Cormag was being more assertive, but of all the times to start, why now?

Another chuckle broke him out of his reverie. “You’re doing it again.”

“What?”

Yet another chuckle. They both knew what Justus was talking about, even if Glen was being stubborn and refusing to admit it. “Stop worrying so much. You’re getting really bad at hiding it. And you used to have such a good straight face, too!”

Seeing that Glen’s gaze was fixed on Cormag, and his mind likely drifting to his worries again, Justus sighed. Most people saw Glen as a prodigy and a brilliant tactician, which to be fair, he was, but as a result, Glen was a worrywart. He was only 31—and a baby-face who looked even younger than that—and was already a general for around ten whole years now. The only other person in recent history who had a similar claim to fame was General Seth, the Silver Knight of Renais. Because Glen started bearing a large amount of responsibility and pressure at such a young age, being concerned over every little detail of a decision was basically ingrained into him now. On one hand, it was because of this that he was such a good strategist. On the other hand, it also resulted in a lot of sleepless nights and a myriad of other woes.

“Glen.” A sound came from the man’s throat, indicating that he heard, but his eyes remained glued on Cormag’s sleeping figure. “C’mon, you need to be at your best tomorrow. Stop thinking and go to sleep.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Listen.” Justus leaned forward to put himself in Glen’s field of vision until Glen finally looked at him. “Matthias and me aren’t here because we intend to sell you out to Grado. We’re sick ‘n tired of this damned war just like you and General Duessel are. Even if your plan doesn’t work, we’re not gonna go back to Grado anyways. If we die as traitors, so be it.”

He stole a glance at Cormag, waiting to see if Glen would say anything. When he didn’t, he continued. “Maybe this one will be pissed at you for a while. Bu’tcha know what? He’s a big kid now. You can’t mother him forever, y’know? Don’t worry how he’s gonna react. Trust me, he’ll follow you even if he does it complaining all the way.”

Glen looked into his eyes this time, and gave a small, wry smile. “Thanks, Just.”

He fell asleep this time.

Chapter Text

The next afternoon, Glen and his escorts were at one of Grado’s small forts. Or, well, a former Renaian fort that was now under Grado’s control. Cormag opened the door to the room Glen set up as his war room, having returned from scouting the area around Port Kiris.

“Looks like the Frelia army’s occupying Port Kiris now. You were right, Councilman Pablo couldn’t do it,” Cormag reported back to Glen.

Matthias combed a hand through his dark blue hair. He, too, had recently returned from scouting. As he hailed from Serafew, he looked and sounded more Renaian than any of the other three, and easily passed as a refugee buying food from the market. “I overheard that no ships have left for Rausten, either, because there’s been some sort of ghost ship prowling the waters and sinking vessels. There are rumors that Melkaen Coast has also been turned into a monster haven.”

“Then Eirika definitely went further into Carcino,” Glen commented, glancing over his map. “But because of Pablo, almost all of Carcino’s main roads have Grado soldiers on patrol. If she ran into them, we would’ve known by now.”

“But there aren’t any other marked roads on our maps, are there? And I’m pretty sure they can’t forge their own trail through the mountains,” Justus argued. “Carcino’s mountains are notoriously difficult to traverse since they’re the tallest in all the continent. Even with pegasi, they’re not going to be able to ferry everyone in a reasonable amount of time.”

Glen was silent for a moment as he gathered all of his intel together. In his silence, Matthias picked up the conversation. “But Princess Eirika is on her way to Rausten. I doubt she would need an entire army to travel with her there. It’s possible she may have only a few pegasi escorts to bring her there.”

“With our wyvern riders, they’d probably find that too risky, wouldn’t they? Besides, Frelia’s still fighting our main forces. They likely can’t divert too many resources to escorts.”

“We should still patrol the mountains,” Glen interrupted. “The main roads are covered by our main forces. Aside from them, there is no other way to Rausten or Jehanna, and Renais is under Grado occupation. That leaves only the mountains for her forces to cross.”

At that moment, the sound of flapping wings, then a whiny, caught their attention. Peering out the window in the room, he saw a Pegasus Knight mercenary dismount, then grab what seemed to be a piece of paper from her satchel. Glen motioned for Matthias to greet her.

Some minutes of silence later, Matthias returned with the mercenary following close behind. “It’s for you, General Glen. And she said she has a message from General Caellach.”

She waited for his eyes to turn to her before she spoke, holding out the sheet clutched tightly in her hand. “General Caellach said that this may be useful information. Said it’s a little-known mountain route that he knows from his mercenary days.”

Glen took it from her, and opened it. Indeed, it was a map identical to his own, except with another path drawn in. Some locations were marked, like “fortress” and “Caer Pelyn”—he’d read about a place by such a name when Duessel was teaching him his letters, but had believed that it no longer existed. Looked like he was wrong about that.

“…Understood. If there’s nothing else—”

“Actually, there is… one more thing he told me to tell you.”

Even though nobody else was around aside from his three companions, the mercenary still glanced around before stepping closer to him and speaking in a hushed tone. “He said that General Valter is up to no good again. Seems that he tricked General Selena and had her abandon her mission at Bethroen. He’s headed north now, General Caellach said. And…”

She hesitated, and chewed on her lip, as if she didn’t know how to say what she was supposed to say. Glen wasn’t sure what could be much worse than anything that involved Valter, so he pushed her with a “Go on.”

“General Duessel is… Ah… He has joined Prince Ephraim’s army. The Emperor has declared him a traitor that must be killed on sight.”

“That’s—!” Cormag stepped forward as he spoke, but Glen cut him off with a raised hand, and he backed down.

Looks like my suspicion that Selena wasn’t sent to Bethroen to help Duessel gained more ground. But why would Valter send her back to the capital…? No, that’s not the right question. What has he to gain by going north? Does he intend on killing Eirika in my stead?

“…Is that all?” She nodded affirmative, and Glen reached into his bag to procure a small gem. “Catch.”

She caught the gem that was gently tossed to her, and her eyes widened. “This is… are you-are you sure?”

“I don’t know if that would convince you to cancel your contract with Pablo, or whoever’s hired you. But at the rate things are going, you won’t want to be caught in the middle of this mess. This should net you enough money to cover the money you would’ve made off Pablo, right? That’s all. Feel free to leave.”

She nodded eagerly and stammered her thanks before dashing out of the room. He saw her mount her steed quickly and wave her goodbye. A whiny and the flapping of wings, and she was gone. By the direction he saw her head towards, it was likely towards Port Kiris.

“…Was that okay? You literally just told her to not help us,” Matthias laughed.

Glen shrugged. “Was I wrong? Our men don’t know how to handle pegasi, anyways, and let’s be real. They don’t know how to handle their riders, either. She’s better off not having to deal with the men at all.”

Matthias guffawed, leaning against the stone wall for support. “No wonder you’re popular with the women. Save them trouble. I think some of the recruits were complaining that you get gifts from admirers all the time.”

“When you were raised by a bunch of women and had to take care of a group of little girls when you were a kid, you happen to understand them a bit better,” Glen remarked. “If they want admirers, they should try and be like me. I’m not changing myself for them. C’mon, let’s go.”

Cormag followed hot on his heels. “We’re going on the path General Caellach marked out?”

“I don’t have any reason to suspect he’s lying about it. Gives us a specific place to keep a look out for, anyways. We’d just be prowling the whole mountainside otherwise.”

“Glen’s setting his sights higher,” Matthias snickered. “He wants to make a move on a princess quick.”

“Matthias, the fact that you have no sweetheart waiting for you back in Grado was one of the reasons why I picked you to come with me here.”

Even as they were walking, Matthias melodramatically pretended to have been stabbed in the heart. “You-you wound me, Glen!”

“Sure, if you say so. Let’s make some progress while it’s still light out.”

To Glen’s mild surprise, Caellach wasn’t lying about a secret mountain path. In fact, by the footprints in the ground, they were hot on Eirika’s trail now. The wyvern screeches they heard in the distance also affirmed that Caellach wasn’t lying about Valter, either.

Glen narrowed his eyes as he surveyed fresh tire tracks. They likely came from a convoy unit, which meant that there certainly was a need for enough provisions for a small army. “We should put off our confrontation until the morning.”

“Shouldn’t we attack them now? They’re probably tired from scaling the mountains,” Cormag argued.

“Our wyverns have been flying a good distance now too. They need to be in top condition in case any unexpected confrontations arise.” Glen turned his head to the direction that the wyvern calls came from. Cormag didn’t look totally convinced, but he nodded to show his agreement.

“Let’s at least figure out where exactly this Princess Eirika is so we don’t need to track her far in the morning,” Justus suggested. Glen nodded.

They found Eirika just as she was about to enter someone’s abode, led by a young boy with red hair. Because of the pegasus rider and archer patrolling the perimeter, they couldn’t get in close and had to stay close to the fog to hide themselves. Nevertheless, it was clear that, as the reports indicated, Eirika and Innes had joined forces. The Silver Knight was also in fighting condition, despite his reported injury at Valter’s hands. After several minutes, the soldiers that followed Eirika and Innes began pitching tents; it was clear that they intended to rest for the night.

With this intel on hand, Glen set their camp behind a mountain to the south of Eirika’s group. Hopefully, they would intercept her before she could start moving, so they immediately fed their wyverns so they could rest up for the morning. They clearly appreciated the thought, and the men could tell that they’d all fallen asleep not too long after.

As Cormag tended their campfire, his brows furrowed in thought. Justus plopped himself on his blanket as he watched the group’s youngest member. “What’s on your mind, Cor? You keep frowning like that, and it’s going to be stuck on your face.”

Before Cormag could say anything, Matthias quipped back, “I don’t think it’s ‘going to be,’ I think it already is.”

“Shut up, Matthias. I’m just—” Cormag licked his dry lips before continuing, “—I don’t believe it. General Duessel, a traitor? There must be some mistake…”

Glen, laying back on his blanket, turned his head towards his brother. “General Duessel was Prince Ephraim’s combat instructor when Grado and Renais were still close. I wouldn’t be too surprised. Relationships like that don’t really disappear just because someone tells you you’re enemies now.”

“But they say that Prince Ephraim is a ruthless monster who kills anyone he sees, and attacks any woman he comes upon—”

“Cormag. Who’re we describing here, Prince Ephraim, or Valter?” When Cormag fell silent, Glen looked back up to the sky and continued with a bitter laugh. “Trust me, everything we’ve said about Prince Ephraim and Princess Eirika were just lies to convince the Grado people to fight.”

“That’s…” Cormag was silent for a moment. “…Then, if General Duessel was close with Prince Ephraim, why did His Majesty send General Duessel to pursue him?”

“A test, maybe?” Glen shrugged, and an uncomfortable silence hung in the air. Justus and Matthias exchanged looks, waiting to hear Cormag’s response.

“Then… What about you? Do you know this princess?”

“Yes,” Glen admitted. “When Renais and Grado were still close… I met the girl—I met Eirika only once. We spoke briefly, but I felt she was a woman of great kindness. I cannot bring myself to believe Princess Eirika is evil. I cannot.”

Cormag frowned. “…Glen. The emperor has ordered—”

“There’s the rub, Cormag. That’s it exactly.” Glen raised a hand to his hair, running his fingers through his blonde locks in agitation. “His Majesty has never spoken a falsehood in all the time I’ve served him. And as a servant of the empire, I am duty bound to obey his orders. But I can see no reason to think Princess Eirika’s heart is any less gentle now.”

“Glen…!” Cormag jumped up, and Glen turned his head to look back at him. “If you keep saying things like that, you’ll be branded a traitor, just like General Duessel!”

Glen sighed, then sat up, propping himself on one arm. “The second His Majesty brought those three new generals in, it was clear he no longer considered us his own. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been planning on eliminating Duessel, Selena, and me for a while.”

“Glen!”

“Cormag.” Glen’s voice was heavy. “I’m ready for whatever happens tomorrow. But I will find out the truth. I will hear Eirika’s side of the story.”

Justus piped up, interrupting Cormag before he could speak. “Have you figured out a way to pry the truth out of her?”

Glen nodded. “Yeah. I’ll just prepare myself to accomplish the mission His Majesty gave me. If Eirika is anything like she was in the past, she’ll likely try to talk things out rather than jump into a fight. That alone should be enough to tell me what I need to know.”

“And if she’s good at acting?”

“We’ll find out tomorrow, won’t we? Get some rest,” he ordered. “We’ll need our strength for tomorrow.”

He rolled over, signifying that they were done with talking for the rest of the night. Matthias gave a gentle “You too” to Cormag, who still stood, and the younger brother slowly sat down, letting himself fall into a restless sleep.

The next morning, they encountered Eirika’s group not a moment too soon. Just as the army was about to enter the path up the mountains, they swooped in. Glen rode in front, while the other three remained close behind.

“Princess Eirika of Renais. Hold.”

Eirika was startled for a second, but quickly composed herself and called off the people that prepared to defend her. The stocky, bearded, axe-wielding man retreated to the side of a green-haired troubadour, while the pink-haired archer took two steps back and a blue-haired man around her age ran up to her to say something to her. The Silver Knight made no move from the princess’ side, but lowered his weapon. Even though Glen had predicted she’d do this, Cormag still found himself surprised.

Glen landed a short distance from her, though he made no move off Sieghart’s saddle. She took a step closer to him. “You… You're General Glen of Grado. We met once in the capital, didn't we? You were very kind to me. However, if you're here now, I have to assume this means…”

“Yes, it does. I wish our reunion could come under different circumstances.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “Eirika, I must tell you, I come here on the direct orders of the emperor. I'm to bring to justice the rebel army leader who's been terrorizing Carcino.”

Eirika’s face held a quizzical expression, and Glen did his best to imagine Eirika in Valter’s place, those five odd years ago when he slaughtered civilians. “It's you, Eirika. They say you've been murdering innocents.”

“What? Wait! What do you mean? I…” Her widened eyes and the reactions of those around her told him he’d done a good job at acting.

Good. So far, she’s been reacting the way I thought she would. If I keep pressuring her like this…

“If you have something to say, I would hear it. I know all too well that Grado has robbed you of your homeland—” Images of Mary’s sobbing figure and her tired smile formed in his mind, which he pushed away. “—But even so… I do not believe revenge could drive a woman like you to such depths. And yet…”

Glen paused to survey the people surrounding Eirika. She had a sizeable force with her; not nearly as large as one of Grado’s full battalions, but there were enough people and enough famous faces for him to understand how Eirika had made it through Saar’s forces in Serafew and through the mercenaries in Port Kiris. Aside from the Silver Knight and Prince Innes, Glen could recognize the ex-general Garcia, Gerik the Desert Tiger, and Marisa the Crimson Flash.

“And yet here you are in Carcino with a small army under your command. And the emperor tells us that you massacred everyone in Port Kiris.”

Behind Eirika, Innes scowled, and shifted as though to speak when Eirika attempted to defend herself. “That… That’s a lie! I could never…”

“Go on.”

“…This is ridiculous.” Innes stepped in front of her now, arm in front of her as if to say leave this to me. “Believe what you want. Could one of the legendary Imperial Three honestly be as stupid as this? Are you only smart on the battlefield and a complete dunderhead off it?”

Cormag moved to defend his brother, but Glen stopped him, never breaking eye contact with Innes.

Ah, here we go.

Still, Glen had to feign ignorance to make certain that this wasn’t all a ploy to trick him, so he continued. “…What do you mean?”

Innes gave a sardonic laugh. “Carcino betrayed Frelia and set a pack of mercenary dogs to kill me. And you paint Eirika a rebel instigator? It’s an absurd farce. Your emperor commits horrors, and you believe Eirika is a criminal?”

Just a bit more, now…

“…What are you saying?” If he weren’t in the middle of feigning ignorance, Glen would’ve laughed at his own words. Who didn’t know about everything Vigarde was doing?

From the darkened expression on Innes’ face, he’d really ticked the prince off now. Eirika had to restrain him with a hand on his wrist as he spat “You truly are blind, aren’t you? You're one of the Imperial Three, and yet you can't see your emperor’s plan?”

“That’s enough, Prince Innes. There’s no need to provoke him.” He reluctantly stepped back, and Eirika turned back to Glen. “General Glen, we’ve told you what we know to be true, what we’ve seen firsthand. We don’t want to fight you… But if you push us, we will drive you back to Grado with your tail between your legs.”

That was enough to convince him. Almost immediately, Glen dropped his act, giving a slight chuckle. “…I see. You…are more observant than you know. I am ignorant of the emperor’s designs,” he admitted. “General Duessel and I both questioned the wisdom of this war. I had my suspicions, but it truly seems that His Majesty lied to us…”

Eirika’s voice was incredulous, as if to say You’ve been playing us all along? “So you…believe us?”

“The Princess Eirika I met long ago was kind and merciful in spirit. You’ve faced relentless hardship, and yet that selfsame spirit remains true.” He jumped off Sieghart and walked closer to Eirika, who refused to budge in spite of Innes and Seth’s warnings. Gasps of surprise rose from her ranks when he bent on one knee before her, head bowed. “…This is a sudden request, and probably extremely unreasonable, but… Princess Eirika. I, Glen, pledge my loyalty to you.”

He could hear Justus and Matthias jump off their wyverns to follow his suit. Though Cormag got off his wyvern, he made no move from Genarog’s side.

“General Glen… Why are you—What about your oaths to Emperor Vigarde? Your homeland?”

“I… I know full well how we’ve ransacked your homeland, Renais. It was only yesterday that we were in Renais, witnessing the destruction caused by the bandits that have taken over the land. We’ve hunted you down ever since you fled from Castle Renais, were forbidden from helping your people... And yet we have no idea why we’re doing this. We are ignorant to His Majesty’s designs. The man who sits upon the throne now,” he said with sadness in his voice, “is not the emperor to whom I pledged my life.”

Glen stole another glance at his brother, whose lip was quivering. “I have… nothing left in Grado anymore,” he admitted. “My only family left is right behind me. I have no regrets even if you executed me right here.”

“Glen! Do you have any idea what you’re saying?!” Cormag yelled at him, his voice choked. Glen was silent, unable to muster his voice. A tense several seconds passed before Cormag walked up to the rest of his companions and joined them with knee bent to Eirika.

Innes gave a dry chuckle, placing a hand on his hip. “Seems that they’re serious enough. What say you, Eirika? Do we take them along?”

“I… I believe them.” Glen let out a breath he didn’t even realize he had held. “General Glen, please rise. It may be true that Grado has destroyed almost everything I loved, I am glad to see that not all of her people approve of her actions. I—”

She was interrupted by Glen suddenly rising to face the south, where he’d come from. “Princess Eirika.”

“Y-yes?”

He grimaced. “I was careless… I fear that I’d forgotten General Valter was also pursuing you for his… own desires. He’s approaching, and quickly… Please, escape to the mountains! My men and I are better suited for delaying him.”

“And how are we supposed to know that this isn’t your way of giving intel to Grado?” Innes accused. “This is some very convenient timing, isn’t it?”

“You’re free to stay behind and make sure, then,” Glen shot back. “Though I must warn you, Valter’s Fili Shield will make your arrows ineffective against him.”

“How kind of you to warn him, Glen!” Valter’s voice shot out. He flew towards them, with two attendants at his side. The smug grin permanently plastered to his face widened as he surveyed the situation. “So, you’ve turned traitor, just like Duessel, eh? Had I known that the Imperial Three were filled with such treacherous hearts, I would’ve killed you straightaway the last time we met.”

“Do not speak of treachery, Valter,” Glen spat, his voice brimming with rage. “Five years ago, you slaughtered people who had no intention of fighting. His Majesty’s punishment was clearly too light, if you’re still standing here today…”

“Such confident words, Glen!” Valter roared with laughter, and Glen quickly mounted Sieghart, preparing himself for battle. “Why don’t we put them to the test!”

Valter shot forward with lance in hand. Glen fended off the first attack with his Lancereaver, but Valter was swifter than he and doubled around to strike again. Glen managed to parry it again, but the force was enough to make even his hands go numb for a second.

“Cur! You’re mad!” As Glen directed Sieghart to turn so he could keep an eye on Valter, he saw Eirika being hurried away onto the mountain path. Justus, Matthias, and Cormag were keeping Valter’s attendants busy, leaving the two generals to duel.

Good. If I can at least buy them some time…

“A battle between generals… Sends the spirit soaring, eh?” Valter thrust again, coming far too close to Glen’s shoulder for his liking. He’d parried it with his Lancereaver, and swung in hopes of catching Valter’s arm, but Valter’s wyvern was able to pull away before he could hit, and he only nicked Valter’s armor. “Come, Glen! Entertain me! Ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

“Urrgh…” It was hard for him to keep up with Valter’s speed, so he had to rely on his armor and Lancereaver to deflect most of the attacks. It was a dangerous gamble, he knew—if Valter set himself up properly, he was able to pierce through armor like it was nothing; if he let Valter get that opportunity, he was done for.

He was only vaguely aware of how far separated he had become from his allies, and how much closer they were to Eirika’s group. Fending off Valter’s attacks took up too much of his attention, and he only noticed how close they were when Valter suddenly dived away from him. Quickly turning his gaze to Valter’s new sights, horror filled him when he saw Eirika in Valter’s direct path.

“Princess Eirika!”

Throwing his javelin was too dangerous due to the troops below, so all Glen could do was spur Sieghart to fly as fast as he could in pursuit of Valter.

I’m not going to make it…!

Valter laughed as the pathetic infantry scrambled to stop him, ramming his lance through a soldier who fell down with blood gurgling from his mouth. “Don’t think you can escape me, my ripe little peach!”

A red-haired man whom he recognized from his encounter at Castle Renais shouted instructions to some soldiers behind him, drawing a lance to face Valter. A blonde-haired cavalier lifted Eirika onto his horse and started speeding away, with a sniper, a green-haired troubadour, and a blue-haired pegasus knight following close behind. Maggots who barely deserved to get skewered on his lance. Why did they even bother fleeing? The red-haired man moved in front of them to intercept Valter, who licked his lips at the challenge.

Good, get these minnows out of my way. I only want to savor a real battle!

“Oh? It’s you again,” he sneered. “I let you go last time, but it seems you truly wish to die this time!” He lunged, only managing to clip the side of his opponents’ arm while receiving a graze on the inside of his arm in return. “Heh heh… ha ha ha ha ha! Good! This is what I like!”

Spying an opportunity, Valter struck in the same place he’d hit the man in their last duel. His victim recoiled in delicious pain, and the way he dropped his lance told Valter he’d hit something good. In spite of the pain, when the man recovered from the immediate shock, he drew his sword in what was clearly his off hand.

In that time, however, Valter already cleared a good amount of distance from his opponent, enough that he was confident that he could land a good kill. Valter practically salivated at the idea of spraying his blood across the field, eliciting screams from his beautiful Eirika. He’d lose a prime battle target, but it was worth it if he got to hear her pain and despair instead.

He kicked Criselda to go as fast as she could, diving straight towards the man with his lance leveled at his throat. There was nothing on Valter’s mind but the sweet, delicious carnage he was about to unleash, and his grin widened as he could feel the futility of the man’s attempts to fend him off.

A flash of red suddenly entered the corner of his vision. Before he could turn his head to see the intrusion, he was nearly thrown off Criselda by the impact of something slamming into her, pushing them away from his target. Instinctively, he lashed out with his lance as he regained control of his wyvern, gripping onto her with all his strength with his free hand and his legs. He sneered with glee when he felt the lance connect with soft flesh, even if he couldn’t tell who it was in all the chaos.

The force of the colliding object, however, was enough to force him to let go of the lance lest it drag him with it. To his slight displeasure, the throbbing sensation in his wrist told him that he still must have pulled the muscle slightly, and he quickly grabbed his backup lance with his good hand, holding Criselda’s reins with his injured hand.

As he regained his bearings, the scream that he heard did not belong to the princess, but instead to a wyvern rider that was supposed to be fighting his adjutants.

“BROTHER!”

Chapter Text

Cormag noticed, to his great anxiety, as Glen and Valter’s battle took them further and further towards Princess Eirika’s party. When he attempted to pursue them, one of Valter’s adjutants kept getting into his way. Their wyverns were of the wivre breed, the same as Valter’s Criselda, and were swifter than his.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Way!”

Why are you stopping me?!

Of course, he knew why they were stopping him. They were being loyal soldiers. Not traitors. They’d held onto their oaths, not letting anything shake them.

Who was right? Them, or Glen?

Matthias parried a blow intended for him. “Get a grip, Cormag! They’re out to kill us!”

“I know!”

Even with a three-on-two battle, Cormag found that their opponents were skilled enough to keep them from approaching the two generals, and Cormag could only watch their duel from the corner of their eye.

Suddenly, Valter broke off the confrontation, diving at full speed at a new target. All of them—even Valter’s own men—momentarily stopped to see what Valter was focusing on. Glen reacted first, diving down after them, and it was then that Cormag realized who Valter was chasing after: Eirika. Sieghart was slower than Criselda, though, and Valter gained far too much distance from Glen.

Andrassy’s cry caught Cormag’s attention. He was relieved to see that it was just Justus catching his attention, not that something happened to him. Justus pointed to Glen’s direction with his chin. Go catch up with them, we’ll deal with things here.

Cormag nodded, and gave Genarog a light kick, and held on tight as Genarog suddenly accelerated. The two opposing riders attempted to intercept them, but were forced to stop their pursuit when it was clear that Cormag intended to just plow through them and that the other two riders would attack them if they did.

His path clear, Cormag raced towards his brother. For some reason, Glen went away from Valter, and was—

Oh.

Before Cormag could fully register it, Sieghart turned back towards Valter, speeding up into a collision course with Criselda, using the built-up momentum from the drop to catch up to Criselda’s speed. They were determined to stop Valter from landing a killing blow on the wounded Silver Knight. His voice caught in his throat, and time seemed to come to a standstill as Sieghart rammed into Criselda, sending both parties flying away from the Silver Knight.

Valter’s lance hand darted out in instinctive self-protection into Glen’s side, ramming straight through and extending out the other side. Cormag reached out, even knowing that it was futile, powerless to help as Sieghart and Glen both fell to the ground a short distance away from Valter after breaking away. The force of the blow ripped the lance out of Valter’s hands and now lay protruding from his brother’s figure.

He saw Glen pull himself to his feet, stagger, then crumple to the ground again. He saw Valter, who somehow managed to keep his bearing on Criselda, slowly chuckle before exploding into laughter.

Valter, who was the reason why Glen was on the floor now, dying of his wounds.

His vision went white from pure rage, and he didn’t register Matthias’ panicked call for him to calm down when he charged at Valter.

“BROTHER!”

He didn’t care that tears were obstructing his vision. He didn’t care that Valter managed to hit his leg with his backup lance. He didn’t care, he didn’t care, he didn’t care. All that was on his mind was revenge. Cold, glorious, blood-filled revenge.

The riders accompanying Valter, now trying to stop him, were insects. Pests. He lashed out at them, not caring who he hit or where he hit them. He didn’t care how close their lances came to his throat, or his own stomach. All that mattered was landing a blow on Valter.

“Ha ha ha ha ha! Good, Cormag! I like those eyes!”

“Shut up… shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!”

To Cormag, all there was in the world was the two of them, and his brother’s collapsed figure. He had no idea what else was going on around them, not until a girl’s voice pierced his ears, and he saw a lance breaking inside the chest of one of Valter’s men.

“Maybe,” the voice shouted, “you could shut up and DO something, Brother!”

She didn’t bother pulling the broken lance out of the rider. Instead, using her pegasus’ speed and her own strength to lift the dying rider off his wyvern, she threw both rider and lance at Valter. He easily dodged, letting both collide into the ground below.

“Hmm? What have we here?” Valter’s momentary surprise twisted back into a sneer. “Someone fool enough to interrupt me in the middle of my meal?”

“Someone smart enough to know to help her allies,” she snipped, though it was directed more at the brother she yelled at earlier. She withdrew a reserve lance that was at her pegasus’ side.

Valter prepared to attack her, but Cormag wasn’t having any of it. He had a score to settle, sudden intrusion or no. Despite losing one of his men, Valter seemed completely undeterred. In fact, he was relishing his current situation.

“Heh heh… good! Come at me! All of you! You’re all just food for my lance!”

Cormag wildly slashed and thrust at Valter and Criselda, leaving Genarog to direct them. He paid no heed to the wounds he was sustaining in return, though he was faintly aware that someone was defending him from close brushes with Valter and his remaining bodyguard.

“Cormag! Stop!”

The previous interruption from the girl had cleared his mind somewhat, enough that he could hear Matthias’ yell. But he was no less enraged, and seeing that Glen had two healers at his side did nothing to quench his hatred.

“I’m not stopping. I’ll have Valter’s head on a pike! NOW!”

“Cormag, you’re still no match—!”

“I don’t give a SHIT!”

Valter laughed madly as he exchanged blows with Cormag. “Excellent, Cormag! You’ll make an even better meal than your pathetic brother over there!”

Cormag knew that Valter was purposely feeding into his hatred, and he only drank it up. His attacks became even more erratic, and he purposely let his defense drop if it meant getting to land a hit on Valter.

He was only aware of how easily Valter was controlling their battle when he noticed that Valter was in position to pierce through him, like he’d done his own brother.

It was then that he was aware that Justus and Matthias weren’t around him, either wounded from trying to defend him from Valter or to deal with the remaining enemy rider.

But the attack never came. The pegasus rider from earlier was swooped in from behind Valter, taking up a most unusual stance. At the speed she was riding at, most fliers would lay low on their steeds to let themselves gain more acceleration. But she was standing in the saddle, as if preparing to dismount.

“Tana!” A scream came from Prince Innes, who was running towards them, though the distance muffled his voice. “DON’T BE STUPID!”

The yell caught Valter’s attention, who turned to defend himself and pointed his lance in her direction. Seizing the opportunity, and to buy the girl time for whatever she was doing, Cormag thrust for Valter’s neck, forcing the man to take his attention back to him.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the pegasus dive below Criselda. Without its rider.

Throwing the corpse of Valter’s attendant at him was gutsy.

Jumping off your flying steed to kick him in the side of the head was pure madness.

And that was exactly what she did. She’d leapt off her pegasus and used her momentum to land a direct blow to Valter’s head with her foot, sending him and Criselda spiraling below. She grabbed ahold of her saddle’s footholds as she fell so she wouldn’t plummet to the ground, though Matthias flew under them just in case.

“That,” the girl screamed down at Valter, “was for calling my best friend a ‘ripe peach’!”

Turning his attention back to his initial target, Cormag drew closer to see if he could land any more hits on his nemesis. Valter clutched his head in pain, lurching when Criselda suddenly pulled upwards.

The blue-haired man, the one who spoke to the pink-haired archer earlier, rolled on the ground. He evidently was breaking his fall after failing to snatch something off Criselda. “Damn!” Cormag heard him swore. “I almost nabbed it!”

Even though her companion failed to snatch Valter’s Fili Shield that kept Criselda from being critically injured by arrows, the archer girl nonetheless embedded an arrow into Valter’s left greave. It narrowly missed the crack between his poleyn and his greave, and Valter’s smirk fell.

“Ha ha… ha ha ha…” Valter laughed, even though he was clearly in bad condition. Putting more distance between himself and Eirika’s group, far enough that the infantry and cavalry couldn’t reach him, he commented, “A bit tired, are you, Criselda? Let’s return to this feast. This was much, much more entertaining than I thought… Let’s settle this matter another time.”

“VALTER!”

Cormag attempted to pursue the man, but Matthias and Larissa cut his path off, letting Valter escape unimpeded. “Cormag,” the man commented with concern in his voice. “Take a look at yourself. You’re in no condition to fight him.”

As the severity of his wounds started to settle in, Cormag wished Matthias hadn’t pointed it out, grimacing in pain. Matthias directed him and Genarog to the ground, helping him dismount. Cormag noticed the wyverns that belonged to Valter’s riders had been corralled to the ground. At some point, the other man must’ve also been killed.

Remembering why he’d been so desperately pursuing Valter, he gasped out, “Glen. Where’s Glen? Where’s my brother?!” A blonde-haired boy in green armor rushed over and pointed at a tent, and Cormag cut him off with a hurried thanks and staggered towards it.

Matthias rushed to his side, propping him up when he nearly fell to the ground. “Cormag, your wounds!”

“I need to see him. I need to see my brother. Brother… He’s…”

“Didn’t you hear him? He’s stable. He’ll live, Cormag. You need your wounds attended to.” Ignoring him, Cormag attempted to press forward. “Cormag!”

A blonde-haired cleric walked to them from the tent Glen was in, and spoke something to Matthias. With a sigh, the man helped him to Glen’s tent. Glen lay on what seemed to be a cot, his midsection wrapped in bandages. The man that was supposed to be Eirika’s guide up the mountains was kneeling by Glen’s side, using healing incantations. Eirika herself knelt by Glen’s other side, her hands clasped together and her lips muttering silent words, though her eyes were wide open and fixed on Glen’s face. His face was contorted in pain and his eyes were closed, and his breathing was ragged and labored.

“Brother!”

Cormag scrambled to his brother’s side, grabbing onto one of his hands. To his relief, he felt the hand squeeze back, weak as it was. Glen was conscious, if barely. Tears dripped down Cormag’s face, and he didn’t care how undignified he looked. Eirika glanced at him in acknowledgement before averting her eyes.

Out of the corner of his eye, Cormag saw the blonde cleric approach him again, and he soon felt warmth wash over his body. The sensation of his wounds magically knitting themselves closed was still uncomfortable, nor did it do anything to ease the pain of the wounds, but it was far preferable to him bleeding out or the wounds getting infected. When she saw that not all his wounds had completely closed, she cast the spell on him again before doing the same for Matthias. When the sage’s incantations lulled, she asked him if she needed to switch in for him, but he shook his head, and she left the tent.

What felt like an eternity of silence later, Eirika asked the man, whose name was Saleh, on Glen’s condition. “The worst of his wounds have been healed. However, my grandmother in Caer Pelyn is more experienced in healing magic. She should be able to help him recover to most of his former strength.”

“Most…?” Cormag couldn’t help but interrupt as the word turned around in his mind.

No, Brother will be fine. He’ll be fine. He’ll be back. He’ll be next to me tomorrow, riding Sieg, and it’ll be like nothing ever happened--

Turning to face Cormag, Saleh explained, “The placement of the wound will make it that he likely won’t be able to move like he did before. It may take a while for him to recover the ability to walk properly, and anything that requires him to bend his torso will likely put him in severe pain. At my level of healing, it is doubtful he’ll be able to live on his own after this.”

“…No…” Cormag bit his lip, trying to convince himself that Glen would pull off a miraculous recovery. Matthias placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, watching the younger man’s expression in concern.

“The Elder should be able to better heal him,” he reassured Cormag. “But I do not know if he is in any condition to travel up there. The air in Caer Pelyn is much thinner, and he may have even more trouble breathing.”

“We’re wyvern riders,” Cormag brushed off. “We’re used to high altitudes.”

“Cormag, don’t rush this,” Matthias warned. “We don’t exactly try to fly with giant gaping wounds.”

Just then, they were interrupted when the tent flap opened. The Silver Knight stepped in, and Eirika rose to meet him. “Seth?”

“We need a meeting, Princess. To decide our next course of action.” He gave a nod of greeting to the other occupants of the tent, and held the tent flap open for Eirika before following her.

Cormag wasn’t sure how much time had passed, only paying attention to his brother’s struggling form and turning the battle over in his mind again and again until the smell of food wafted to his nose. Justus walked in, holding a canteen.

“Here, eat up. You need to recover your strength, you madman.”

Wincing at the comment, Cormag sheepishly asked, “How bad was I?”

Justus’ eyes widened for a second before he snickered. “Man, you must’ve been out of it. You seriously don’t remember?”

“Er… I don’t remember much between the time Valter stabbed Glen and when that girl Tana threw the corpse at him.”

“Wow.” Matthias whistled. “You really were gone.”

The two were hinting that he’d done something he didn’t remember, and the fact that they were beating around the bush irritated him. “What? What did I do?”

“You really don’t remember? At all?”

“No!”

Saleh hushed them, and Cormag saw that Glen’s brows had furrowed in what was likely concern. He let the other two pull him out of the tent and closer to the area where the steeds were being kept. Genarog turned to look at him before burrowing his face back into his body, clearly tired from the battle. Sieghart was also there, trying to lick wounds already closed by healing staves in a futile effort to relieve the pain.

When they stopped, Cormag didn’t even wait for them to face him again before he started talking. “Okay, seriously. Just tell me already! What did I do?!”

Justus looked away, though there was an uneasy grin on his face, and Matthias looked at the ground before responding. “Cormag… You completely ran through Justus’ forearm earlier.”

Cormag blinked, trying to process what he was told. “…What?”

“Yeah…” Justus scratched the back of his head as he continued, “I went to help you, but I guess you mistook me for one of Valter’s men, and just rammed your lance straight through.” He pointed at the area where Cormag stabbed him, though it had since been healed.

“Urrgh… Sorry…”

Justus waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. You couldn’t help it, right?”

“Was that before or after she threw the guy at Valter?”

“Before,” Matthias answered. “Guess you never noticed that Justus wasn’t in the fight after that?”

Now that Matthias mentioned it, Cormag hadn’t seen Justus or Andrassy at all after Tana’s first outburst. He winced again at the severity of his rage and how blind it had made him. He knew he didn’t have a good temper, but he didn’t think it was that bad.

I’m supposed to be a Grado elite, damn it! These people probably won’t see me as a worthy ally now…

Footsteps approached them, and they turned to see Seth approaching them. He gave them a smile. “I don’t think I’ve introduced myself,” he began. “I’m the leader of the Knights of Renais—”

“I know you. Of course I know you,” Cormag interrupted. “You’re General Seth, the Silver Knight.”

“…That’s right. And you are Cormag, the renowned wyvern rider of Grado.”

Justus thumped Cormag on the back and Cormag smirked. “If the legendary Silver Knight knows my name, I can’t be doing too bad, huh?”

“You and your brother, Glen, are famous even among the Knights of Renais. We have no wyvern riders in Renais, and your stories are favorites among the men.” Peering at the tent Glen was in, he added, “When your brother is in condition to talk, I must thank him. He selflessly took a grievous wound in exchange for my life.”

Cormag swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and Matthias picked up the conversation. “How’s your arm? I heard that Valter did something nasty to your shoulder.”

“Sister Natasha immediately healed it,” Seth said, motioning to the blonde cleric with his eyes, “and so it wasn’t terribly wounded. Thank you for your concern. We’ve also come to a decision about our course of action. Even though we lost some time due to the battle, a portion of our forces already made their way to Caer Pelyn in the time that you bought us. They’ve cleared the monsters in the path, so our journey should be smooth.”

“Who’re we following?”

“The three of you will be under Princess Tana’s command, as fellow fliers. Or, well,” Seth coughed, “perhaps you could cooperate with her and even teach her some things. She’s new to combat and is quite reckless, if her actions in battle today were any indication.”

Matthias sputtered. “The pegasus knight? She’s a princess?”

Seth’s mortified “Please don’t let Prince Innes hear that comment” told Cormag that he wasn’t lying about it.

Cormag shook his head in disbelief before continuing. “And my brother?”

“Yes. He will travel with us in the rear,” Seth answered. “Sister Natasha will remain at his side in case anything happens.”

Justus pointed at the two wyverns they’d captured. For the most part, they were only lightly injured, and looked more confused than anything. “What about those kiddos? Are we bringing them with?”

Seth cleared his throat. “Actually, we wanted to ask your opinion. We weren’t sure if these wyverns would be cooperative with us. If you don’t think we can use them, there’s not much point in keeping them, but killing them is also a waste.”

“Let’s see. You’re Ruvest, right?” Justus walked up to one of them, who took a step back but didn’t seem otherwise hostile. Upon hearing her name called, the wyvern took a step forward and leaned closer to Justus to observe him curiously. Carefully, he stroked her snout, and she quickly warmed up to him after that. “Yeah, I’d say they’re good to use.”

“Ruvest and Guille are relatively new to all this, so they’re not particularly attached to their riders,” Matthias commented. “Heck, since they’re from the wivre breed, maybe even the Frelian riders could handle them. They’re less temperamental than our breeds, and faster.”

Seth nodded. “I’ll trust your call on that. We will be ready to depart soon.”

It was dusk when their group arrived. As Seth had told them, a portion of their army was waiting for them there, and most of camp was already set up. On the trip up, Princess Tana didn’t end up accompanying the Gradoan fliers; Prince Innes summoned her for a severe lecture as they traveled, and she’d retreated to her quarters in a huff upon arriving.

After Cormag and Matthias set Glen’s cot up in a room with a specially-prepared moss bed, they were shooed out by the Elder. She needed to concentrate on her spells, and a wide area around the building was cleared out to minimize any distractions.

Once he finished grooming Genarog (who was very picky about his routine), Cormag found that his feet took him to one of the campfires. He wasn’t sure why, but he figured he was just lost in his thoughts for too long and he needed a break from himself. The Desert Tiger was seated on the ground, talking to a red-haired woman in traditional Jehannan dancer clothing. Actually, now that Cormag looked closely…

“Oh!” Upon seeing him, Tethys smiled. “I’ve met you before, haven’t I?”

“Huh?! You’ve met him?!” The young boy who piped up next to her was hushed. Apparently, Ewan was her brother, and the one who told Eirika about Caer Pelyn. From what Cormag could gather, he was learning magic under Saleh.

Cormag answered, “In Serafew, yeah. My brother and I were there on a mission, and one of the nobles living there invited us to see your performance.”

“And now, we meet here. Fate never ceases to surprise.”

Gerik raised his canteen. “This won’t be my first time working with Grado soldiers, but I never got to see their famous wyvern riders in action. You get to see new things all the time as a mercenary, eh?”

The mercenary in green Jehannan clothing, who wore his hat even though it was dark out, sat up straight. “By the way, Gerik, care for a game of—”

“Nah.”

“Tch. Man, that’s no fun,” he complained despite his grin. If he had to guess, Cormag would say they’d exchanged such banter several times already. The man turned to Cormag. “What about you?”

“Huh? Uh, er, no. No thanks,” he stammered.

“Heh! Looks like Lady Luck decided to be fair to everyone today,” he joked. “I’m Joshua, by the way.”

“Cormag.”

The group exchanged small talk and drinks before splitting up to do their own things. Cormag found himself back with the steeds, though he found that he wasn’t alone this time. Matthias was taking care of Larissa, Ruvest, and Guille, another pegasus rider whom Glen heard was a message-bearer had just arrived from Frelia, and there was another pair of people looking on. One was a rather petite, purple-haired girl who was scribbling down notes in a book while observing the way Matthias treated Larissa. Occasionally she would talk to her companion, a young man with curly orange hair. From his attire, he was a man of the cloth. From their looks and their manner of speech, they were Renaian.

“Most pegasi, like horses, enjoy the taste and texture of carrots. They are also herbivorous, and will not eat meat. Wyverns, on the other hand, are omnivorous; do you think they will enjoy the taste of carrots as well, Artur?”

“Well, uh… I suppose you could ask the two wyvern riders, Lute?”

In the glow of the torches, Cormag saw her pout at her companion.

“Unacceptable.” After a brief pause, she changed her response to “Well, while accounts from experts are always valuable resources, the best way to test hypotheses is always with experimentation.”

Matthias laughed from where he was stroking Larissa’s snout, where she liked being touched the most. “All wyverns are different, you know. Some might like it, some might hate it. And the ones that hate it,” he stared at Genarog, who stared at him back, “will probably try and bite your head off for it.”

Lute jotted down more notes in her book; probably recording what Matthias had told her. Artur looked nervous from the “bite your head off” comment since he was standing close to Genarog, so Cormag decided to play in. Jabbing a finger at his wyvern, he added, “Don’t get too close now. He may look calm now, but he’s got a dangerous side.” An image of Justus pointing to the arm he’d stabbed through in his rage flashed through his mind, and he quickly warned, “Like me.”

Better for them to stay away from me, than I do to them what I did to Justus earlier…

He felt a lonely sort of satisfaction when Artur took a step back from Genarog as the wyvern turned his eyes to the boy. “S-sorry!”

In a loud mock-whisper, Matthias alleviated Artur’s fears with a “Don’t worry, Cormag’s a giant teddy bear.”

Artur looked between the man and his wyvern, unsure which one was Cormag before realizing that the name belonged to the man. “Oh, where are my manners? My name is Artur, and my friend here is Lute.”

“I’m Cormag, and that tattle-tale over there is Matthias.” Matthias had moved on to Guille, but gave a wave upon hearing his name. “Nice to meet you.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Artur responded.

“Hey, Lute,” Matthias called. Lute looked up at him from her book. “Wanna say hi to Larissa? She’s friendly, a lot friendlier than Genarog over there.” He pointed at his wyvern, who looked between him and the girl that now approached.

With Lute preoccupied, Artur struck up a conversation with the blonde man. “So I take it your wyvern’s name is Genarog? Do you think he would mind if I were to touch him?”

“Would you?” Cormag asked the wyvern, who only looked at him in response. Deciding that Genarog was in a good mood, he answered, “Nah, go right ahead. Do it now, while he’s in a good mood. Genarog, Artur here is gonna pet you. Don’t eat him.”

As Artur felt Genarog’s side, Genarog seemed somewhat uncomfortable, but Cormag kept him still with a hand on his snout. Matthias pointed at Artur with his head, as if saying Go on, talk to him some more. Cormag rolled his eyes at Matthias, but complied.

“So… Interested in wyverns, are you?”

Artur didn’t take his eyes off Genarog as he responded. “It’s not so much interest as it is, well, fascination, if you will. The way how they fly in the sky at will… and their powerful limbs. I’ve seen them from a distance before, but I’ve never seen one up close…”

“Wyverns can be proud, and Genarog is very proud of his flying. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to give you a demonstration in the morning. Besides, it looks like he likes you.”

“R-really? How do you know?” Artur looked at Cormag now, wide-eyed.

“He hasn’t tried to eat your face yet, for one thing.” At Artur’s quizzical expression, Cormag chuckled. “What, you think Matthias was lying about that? Maybe Genarog can sense your, what’d you call it, fascination? Yeah, maybe it won’t take too long for you two to be friends.”

Artur’s expression lit up, and Lute pouted at him even though she seemed to be getting along perfectly well with Larissa.

Sheepishly trying hide his excitement, Artur did his best to sound calm, responding with “Hm. Well then, it’s very nice to meet you, Genarog. Lute, it’s getting late, and we still have training tonight.”

“Let’s come back in the morning and feed the wyverns carrots,” she insisted as she joined his side at the makeshift corral.

Cormag sent them off with a casual “Next time you’re around, come say hi.”

Lute waved back, while Artur responded with “Thanks. I will!”

As soon as their backs were turned, Matthias shot Cormag a smirk, which he returned with a glare. Matthias waited until they were out of earshot before walking over to Cormag and giving him a rough pat on the back.

“Our little Cormag is making friends!”

Cormag crossed his arms, glaring daggers at the older man. “You’re the one who told me to talk to him.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he laughed. “Most of the people here are closer to your age than mine. Maybe you’ll be less moody and more talkative.”

“I don’t need to be. And I’m not moody!”

Cormag’s mood suddenly soured and he wasn’t quite sure why. He’d heard this spiel hundreds of times from just about everyone around him, and he’d just brushed it off. Right now, though, that familiar laugh and joke irritated him like nothing else.

It was too familiar, too casual, too normal. Especially when Glen was suffering, in pain, in agony… All of this because of one decision.

If he hadn’t joined Eirika… If he hadn’t defected… Glen wouldn’t be in this situation. Cormag was sure of it. The people here were nice. Glen was right, Vigarde was no longer the man he used to be. But… the price he’d paid for following his heart was this.

Cormag raked through the day’s events in his mind. From the confrontation with Eirika, to joining her side, to Valter’s attack, to Glen getting mauled, to a blank spot in his memory that he didn’t remember, to Princess Tana’s intervention, to Valter’s retreat, to their return to ground, to seeing Glen laying on the ground in pain, to their trip up to Caer Pelyn, to settling down in camp.

So much had happened that Cormag just wished everything was a dream, but the heavy lump in his stomach told him that all of this was real. They’d betrayed the emperor they’d served for years for a renegade princess and her rag-tag army, and what they had to show for it was, well… his brother’s current state.

Seeing his brother like that hurt, but it didn’t hurt as much as the realization that had dawned upon him: The reason why Glen had wanted him to stay in the capital. Why Glen had been so brusque with him when he insisted on following.

“I have… nothing left in Grado anymore. My only family left is right behind me. I have no regrets even if you executed me right here.”

If he’d stayed in the capital, Glen wouldn’t have defected. Glen would’ve come back to Grado, and nothing would have changed.

This was all his fault.

“Matthias.” The man had sat down a short distance away, and looked up upon hearing his name called. “How long have you been in on this?”

“In on what?” Matthias’ body tensed ever so slightly, and he moved to stand.

“Glen’s plan. You knew he was going to defect?”

“Well, defecting wasn’t part of the original plan,” Matthias started. He trailed off once he saw Cormag’s expression, a mix between rage and despair.

Matthias didn’t know what was crossing Cormag’s mind, but whatever it was, it was dangerous. Keeping calm was never exactly Cormag’s strongest suit, and if he was anything like his brother (he was just about everything like his brother), he was probably overthinking everything. Matthias shifted again, getting his legs and arms ready to either defend himself or restrain Cormag if needed.

Though he’d stood up, Cormag’s gaze remained fixed on where he had been sitting. Cormag’s next words were unsteady, and he clutched his arms tightly, as though physically holding himself back. “Then… I’m the reason Brother is… I…”

“Cormag! Don’t think like that!” Matthias’ eyes widened. But what could he say? There was no guarantee what would’ve happened if Cormag had come along. He, for one, was pretty sure that Glen would be dead if he didn’t, but how was he supposed to tell Cormag that? In the state he was in now, Cormag wouldn’t take something like “your brother being crippled for life was the best-case scenario” very well.

In the torchlight, Matthias saw Saleh approach. Cormag wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t notice, and he relaxed his stance a little, but refused to turn around.

“The Elder has finished. Master Glen will still be in severe pain for the next several days, but we expect that he should be able to recover enough to live normally afterwards.”

Cormag gave no response, so Matthias gave a relieved smile in his place. “How’s he now?”

“He is asleep, but you may visit him if you wish.”

Matthias looked at Cormag expectantly, hoping that the news would recover some of his spirits.

“…I understand.”

It didn’t.

Cormag made no move to see his brother.

Chapter Text

Caellach surveyed the ships that anchored at Taizel’s port and smirked. It was the Frelian army, led by Prince Ephraim of Renais and Captain Syrene of Frelia’s third battalion. Under his orders, Grado’s soldiers were hidden from sight, and the citizens acted as though nothing unusual was happening. And that dolt Ephraim just waltzed in, right like that! Oh, did he have a surprise in store for the prince…

Now, was he supposed to be in Taizel? No. He wasn’t even supposed to be in Grado. Vigarde’s orders sent him to Jehanna, but he was, at least in his mind, a pragmatic individual. No need to waste the lives of precious soldiers when you could just make the enemy surrender on their own, right?

He was a pragmatic man, and so was Commander Carlyle of the Jehannan army. And so, they’d worked out a deal. Carlyle gets Queen Ismaire to surrender—and not butcher the Grado army like she was doing—and the queen walks away alive. After all, she had no heirs to the throne, and with no husband, there weren’t any on the way (though a certain commander of hers would be happy to change that). If she died, the last branch of the Jehannan royal family went with her. Jehannan politics were messy like that.

If it weren’t for all the amazing perks of royalty, like riches and food and luxury for as far as the eye could see, Caellach would’ve stayed far away from it. But he’d grown up in Jehanna’s slums, in poverty. As a child, he fought tooth and nail for the tiniest scraps of meat, mixed with dust and dirt and grit and blood. By the time he was ten, he was fighting in the arena. It was only by winning favors with arena-goers who bet on the victor that he could get a roof to live under and decent meals to fill him up. One of the gamblers who bet for him during this time was Aias’ father, a relatively wealthy mercenary, and it was through him that Caellach entered the mercenary life.

And it was through the mercenary life that Caellach got to see how good those damn nobles had it. Jehanna didn’t have such clear-cut social strata due to the harshness of the environment; even their rulers had to prove their worth by defeating the heads of the top five mercenary guilds (or having an attendant that could take the challenge). But once Caellach left that dog-eat-dog world, he could see how pampered the nobility of other countries were. Not once did they experience true hardship. Never had they felt their blood or sweat trickle down their bodies as the deafening roar of the crowd, your livelihood, chanted for blood. All they needed to do was pluck the hard-earned fruits of their serfs right out of their fingertips, and all their needs were met.

The steak he was eating now, provided by one of the noblemen in Taizel to curry favor with him, was proof of it. Maybe the man thought he was blind, but Caellach saw the thin bones of the peasants who raised the cattle. He saw the condition of their shanties and their hollow eyes. These were the people who deserved to live a rich and full life, not the lowlife nobles who panicked the second anything went off their carefully-crafted plans.

Now, Caellach wasn’t going to say that Vigarde was a horrible ruler. If he did, he was sure Selena would have him on a spit, Bolting-charred and Elfire-roasted. Honestly, considering his own dealings with the nobles, he’d say that Vigarde had a shitload of patience to be able to keep himself from executing them all. But real change had to come from someone with the balls to do it. Not from a person who was born into royalty. It was he, a man who came from that poverty and knew what it was like, who was fit to take the throne. Not some pansy little boy who could barely pick up a sword.

Speaking of, Prince Lyon had requested to accompany him to Jehanna Hall and oversee the Sacred Stone’s destruction. Didn’t he prove himself already by destroying Frelia’s? Caellach growled in annoyance when he remembered.

“Caellach.” Aias had snuck up next to him at some point. “Ephraim’s men seem ready to disembark.”

“Are they, now?” Caellach smirked. At least there was something to keep him entertained now. He was cleaning up Valter’s mess—surprise, surprise—but at least he’d get to rub it in that greasy-haired man’s face.

“Fill in the holes” my ass. Thanks to that fuck-up, General Duessel’s on Ephraim’s side. Well, if he gets to do whatever he wants, then so will I!

Not to mention that the “ghost ship” terrorizing Magvel’s waters, no doubt the machinations of a certain shriveled raisin of a man, got sunk by the Frelian army. Whatever. Caellach didn’t expect that guy to do anything useful any time soon.

“Send the order: Surround the ships, now!”

Soon, Grado troops flooded the area, taking their positions as civilians scrambled inside their houses. Caellach took his position at the city’s gate, blocking their passage to the main road. If Ephraim managed to get through the troops (which he secretly was hoping for), at least the princeling wouldn’t get through him.

But the resistance his soldiers was putting up was pathetic, even for his expectations. Ephraim’s army tore through them, their victory over the ghost ship giving them a morale boost. It looked like he’d have to give them a little boost of their own.

“Soldiers of Grado!” He had a naturally loud voice, and his position on the hill made it so that people in a wide area could hear them. Even some of the Frelian soldiers at the other end of the city turned their head. “You call yourselves warriors? You’re pathetic! Fort Rigwald? You lost it! Your General Duessel? A traitor! Where is the honor of the Grado Imperial Army?”

Caellach knew where it was. It was gone. It went with the traitorous General Duessel, with Selena who risked a demotion for her retreat from Bethroen, and with Glen who had Valter hot on his tail. It was definitely not with anyone left in Grado’s army.

He continued. “It wallows in filth and mud. Is this the ending you envisioned? Is this how you would be remembered? Will you let the bards sing of how you fell to the renegade Ephraim? I think not! Now get up and fight! Kill them all! And bring me Ephraim’s head!”

The soldiers fought a little fiercer now, whether out of pride or fear Caellach neither knew nor cared. He kept an eye on the strategies employed by the prince and the falcoknight commanding the enemy army, mentally noting what he should watch out for if they fought him.

Suddenly, he felt a malefic aura behind him. There weren’t any shamans behind him, so he whirled around to confront the intruder.

“Heh heh heh…” Caellach instantly knew who it was, even as the man’s figure was obscured by the light of his teleportation magic. When his figure materialized, the thin lips of the old ex-bishop twisted upwards. “Caellach. Interesting. What are you doing here? You were ordered to loose your dogs of war on Jehanna, were you not?”

Not even bothering to hide his contemptuous snarl, Caellach replied, “Keep silent, you decrepit sod. I told you, Jehanna’s under control. My plan is in full effect. All we need do now is wait.” In a slightly better mood at the thought of his guaranteed victory, he explained, “You see, Jehanna is an overripe fruit. It’s being devoured by worms from within. We can pluck it anytime we wish.”

“Heh heh heh…” Caellach did not like the chuckle coming out of Riev’s mouth. “Oh, how your plans seem to have gone awry. Glen has betrayed us, and Eirika makes her way to Jehanna even now. Your perfect fruit has turned to rot while you did nothing. It’s time. You will return to the capital with me.”

“What?! Are you truly serious, you old goat?”

Riev only smiled in his disgusting way, and Caellach scoured his intel to figure out where his plan went wrong. Glen was supposed to go and stop them, not join them. He even went out of his way to inform Glen of a possible route she’d taken to make his life easier. Why did Glen—wait.

Remembering that a certain slimeball had decided to ditch his assignment for Glen’s, Caellach changed the target of his fury. “…No, it’s that shithead Valter… What’s he playing at now?”

“There’s no call for that sort of talk. That one has his uses after all,” Riev brushed aside, though Caellach did not miss his selection of the word uses. “You can leave the defeat of Ephraim to your subordinates. Oh yes, and you can use the troops I brought with me as well. It will, no doubt, be an interesting battle. Heh heh heh…”

Caellach didn’t see any troops whatsoever, but he knew better than to ask.

“Let’s go now, Caellach. You wouldn't want to hurt a certain someone's feelings, would you?”

“Bah,” he snarled. “What else can I do? Aias, you go ahead to Hamill Canyon and wait for me there. I’m going back to the capital.”

Upon hearing that Caellach intended to return, Riev left the same way he came. As Caellach departed, he could’ve sworn he saw monsters taking his place…

Who the hell is that guy…?!

He knew he didn’t want to know the answer to that.

Eirika’s group planned to depart Caer Pelyn in the morning, but fate had deigned otherwise. A torrential downpour began even before dawn broke, and traversing the steep mountain path down to Jehanna was ill-advised.

Cormag was too drained, both physically and emotionally, to sit up in his tent even though he was awake. In fact, he didn’t know how he got into the tent, and the blanket covering him was too thick and luxurious to be his. He wanted to take it off because it wasn’t his, but it was so soft and comfortable that he also didn’t want to. Justus and Matthias were awake as well, talking in low voices, and Cormag didn’t want them to know he was awake. They’d probably drag him to see his brother, and he wasn’t in the mood.

This whole time… Glen wanted me to be his excuse to remain loyal to Grado… I’m such an idiot, running off and doing whatever the hell I wanted… And now…

Cormag heard the tent flap open, and a feminine voice heaved a sigh. It sounded like Tana’s—Princess Tana’s—voice, but Cormag didn’t bother checking.

“Whew! Getting a makeshift lean-to up for the pegasi takes way too much eff—oops!” She started talking at her normal (loud) volume, only to notice Cormag still laying there. “So sorry!” she whispered.

“Nah, he’s awake,” Matthias replied. Cormag wasn’t sure why he thought he could trick them.

He growled, sitting up to indicate that Matthias was right. Faintly aware that his hair was messy from tossing and turning in his sleep, he roughly combed it with his fingers as Tana giggled.

“Not a morning person, I take it?”

“Long night,” he hurriedly corrected. He was a morning person, alright; he was used to waking up at the crack of dawn to labor in his family’s barren fields, and he woke up around the same time for training once he joined the army.

She giggled again. “Really? When I went to check up on Achaeus last night, you were just dead asleep on the ground! I went and got a blanket so you wouldn’t get sick or anything.”

Oh, that’s where this blanket came from. Wait, if she got the blanket, then—

“Matthias and I carried you back to the tent,” Justus grinned, seeing Cormag’s bewildered expression.

“Ah.”

“Oh!” Her expression suddenly lit up. “Wherever did my manners go? Well, I’m sure you know who I am by now, but I’m Tana, princess of Frelia. I thought I should know the men that have been assigned to… me.”

It sounded like she was about to end her sentence with another phrase, but Cormag didn’t push it. She continued, pointing at each of the men when she addressed them. “Let me see… You’re… Sir Justus, right? And Sir Ma…Matthias?” Matthias gave her a thumbs-up, and she turned to Cormag, “And so you must be Sir Cormag!”

“That’s me.”

“Oh, by the way,” her expression became a bit more solemn. “Sir Glen is awake right now, if you wish to see him. Eirika and Sir Seth paid him a visit earlier.”

Matthias glanced first at Cormag, who didn’t meet his gaze, and then at Justus. “We’ll go see him. You coming, Cormag?”

The man slowly shook his head, and Matthias shrugged. There wasn’t any point in forcing Cormag to come along if he’d just be moody the whole time. “We’ll be back, princess.”

“A-alright…” she looked between the two men who exited the tent and Cormag, who didn’t budge. “Are…are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll see him later.” It was sort of a lie, but Cormag didn’t want her to pry. “I just… don’t want to think about it right now.”

“Oh, okay.” She stepped closer to him, and motioned to her blanket that still covered his lap. He’d pulled his legs closer to him when he sat up, and she stood next to an empty spot on the blanket. “Do you mind if I sit next to you?”

“Huh? Uh, no, it-it’s fine.” Cormag was glad Matthias and Justus already left, or else he’d never hear the end of it.

As she sat down next to him, she continued, “So, Sir Cormag—”

Hearing himself being addressed as ‘Sir’ when he’d betrayed his oaths made him uncomfortable, so he butted in with “Please, just call me Cormag. There’s no need for honorifics with me.”

“Cormag it is, then,” she smiled. “You know, I’m not really experienced in fighting and all, so I thought that you could teach me some things and spar with me some time. As a princess, I didn’t get to learn much about fighting or warfare. Syrene only taught me because I begged her.”

“Heh. ‘Princess.’ That still sounds so odd to me. You know, I had no idea you were a princess at first. Besides,” he flashed her a grin, “you definitely didn’t fight like a rookie yesterday.”

Giggling nervously, she answered, “That’s not what my brother told me.”

Cormag shook his head. “Really? He should’ve been singing you praises.” When she laughed, he continued, “Seriously, I mean it. There aren’t many people with enough guts to throw a corpse at an imperial general, then kick him right in the head. Especially not when that imperial general is Valter, of all people.”

“Well, I was just really mad at him and Innes,” she grinned sheepishly, then her expression quickly became somber. “But I’m sure you have a lot more reason to hate Valter.”

Just imagining that man’s face filled Cormag with rage, and he clenched his hand into a tight fist. Noticing his reaction, Tana hurriedly moved on. “I had another favor to ask of you, Cormag.”

Forcing himself to tear his mind off revenge, he turned to look her in the eye. “What would you have me do, Princess?”

“I’m prone to attacks from archers when I’m on the battlefield…”

He nodded. “That makes two of us. It’s a common problem for airborne soldiers.”

“I thought perhaps we could keep watch for archers and warn one another,” she suggested.

“Hm. Yes, you’ve got a good idea there. A ‘buddy system’ of sorts.” She beamed at the praise, but her face fell when he continued, “But if you saw an ally in danger, you’d warn him regardless, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, of course! But we’re so high up that I was worried… If I saw an archer, I didn’t think my voice would carry to you in time.” She smiled again as she proposed her next idea. “Perhaps the neighing of a pegasus or the cries of a wyvern could carry far enough to warn the others.”

“Oh! I see…” Cormag wondered if she was actually telling the truth when she claimed she had little battle experience. “Yes, we might not be able to hear each other in the heat of battle. But our steeds can be louder than either of us could. And trust me, my wyvern's shriek can pierce your ear from two leagues away. A brilliant idea, Your Highness.”

“Really?” Tana was downright ecstatic at the praise, clapping her hands together lightly in her excitement. “Thank you.”

Her reaction was so childishly genuine and expressive that Cormag couldn’t help but smile with her. “Right, so if we see anything out there, we'll have our mounts call out, right?”

“Yes.” Her expression softened, though he wasn’t sure why. “And thank you, Cormag.”

The pain hadn’t bothered Glen too much while he was asleep, but the sound of rain hitting the roof had woken him up and, apparently, his pain as well. He wanted to sit up and look around, but his core—where Valter had run him through—was in agonizing pain. His arms had no strength and the pain that coursed through them suggested that he’d broken them at several points during his fall. Meanwhile, his knees… Glen was sure that he’d be in less agony if they had been cut off. Probably another spot where they’d been broken during the fall. He vaguely remembered trying to stand, which probably hadn’t helped at all.

But he was alive. In terrible agony that made a part of him wish he wasn’t, but alive nonetheless. He was gasping for breath and practically paralyzed from the pain, but he wasn’t dead. That alone was more than he could ask for. The fact that he survived having his body completely pierced through and crashing into the ground from his wyvern was a miracle.

Turning his head to his left, he saw a blonde-haired cleric sitting along the wall, asleep with her staff gripped in hand. Through the pain-induced fog in his mind, he noticed that she matched the description of the traitor he’d ordered Saar to dispatch some months ago in Serafew… Glen hoped that she wasn’t that same person, and just a Renaian cleric who followed Eirika on her journey.

To his right was just a small mat with a small ceramic filled with water. Seeing it reminded Glen of how absolutely parched he was, but the agonizing reality was that he couldn’t even reach out to grab it, let alone sit up and drink it. There was also a window, from which he could see the rain beating down outside.

Glen willed himself to fall back asleep, but found that he could not. Worse, there wasn’t anything else to focus on aside from his pain, which felt like it was steadily mounting. At some point, he must have gasped, because he heard a sudden flurry of motion to his left, and then the cleric hovered over him.

“Sir Glen,” she said. “Let me get cold towels for you.”

She scampered out of the room before he could call her back. Left alone again, Glen tried to shift his focus to the rain outside, but found the repetitiveness and the noise grating after a couple seconds. He wanted to close the shutters, but couldn’t muster any strength to move. His efforts were rewarded with searing pain, and he grit his teeth to keep silent.

What felt like an eternity later, the cleric returned with several towels in hand. “Luckily, Grandmother was awake to give me ice with Fimbulvetr,” she commented to nobody in particular. As she peeled back the blanket covering his body down to his waist, Glen became uncomfortably aware that he was only in his smallclothes. Of course, his wounds had to be exposed before they could be healed, but he still felt uncomfortable being this exposed in front of a complete stranger.

As if picking up on this particular source of discomfort, she told him, “Don’t worry, I’m used to this sort of work. I’ve done it ever since I joined the clerical order.” Even though she lay a towel on his left shoulder as gently as she possibly could, the contact sent another jolt of pain down his arm. “My apologizes, but it will cause a bit of discomfort until it begins soothing the pain.”

It was several long, agonizing minutes before the effect finally began kicking in, and Glen could take a deeper breath than he’d been drawing. His ears could pick up the sounds of activity outside, muffled by the rain and the shutters that the cleric had closed at his request. To compensate for the lack of light in the room, she lit some of the candles strewn about, and Glen couldn’t help but imagine himself as the hapless sacrifice for a forbidden ritual.

Even though the door was open, someone knocked on the doorframe before entering. To his vague disappointment, Glen saw Princess Eirika and Sir Seth enter, and he heard Seth tell the cleric to go and take a break. Even though she’d been helping him all this while, Glen felt relief wash over him as she left the room. He didn’t want to be helped by someone whom he potentially ordered the execution of.

Eirika knelt by his bed. “General Glen. You’re alive.”

“I am…” he replied with a wry smile, not even trying to hide the pain the crept into his voice. “Somehow.”

“Our healers fought with every ounce of their strength to keep you alive,” she explained. “I’m very grateful for them. And to you, for saving Sir Seth’s life. If it weren’t for you, he would be dead now.”

Seth remained standing, but he nodded. “I know from fighting him before that Valter is a formidable opponent. Words cannot express how grateful I am for your intervention.”

“Well now… If only that could… make the pain go away faster…”

“If you can joke like that, I’m sure you can make it through this.”

Glen smiled in spite of himself. “What about… the other…”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence, as Eirika inferred the rest of it. “They’re here. They have been assigned to follow Princess Tana.”

At least they’re safe…

While he was glad, he felt a pang of loneliness. They weren’t at his side when he woke up. Had his decision shattered their faith in him that much?

“Do… Do you want me to call them?” Glen opened eyes he didn’t realize he’d closed, and saw Eirika’s concern etched on her face.

“…It’s fine.” He knew—and the tears biting at her eyes and her quivering lips indicated that she knew—that it was a lie. “If they want to see me, they’ll come… If they don’t, they won’t.”

Eirika stared at her lap for several seconds, allowing silence to hang in the air. Glen tried to focus on the cold relief on his aching body, distracting himself with thoughts about how Fimbulvetr ice lasted much longer than regular ice. The silence was broken when they heard an agitated voice call out “Achaeus! Stop, stop!”

Seth opened the shutter slightly to peer outside before closing it again. “Princess Tana is trying to build a shelter for the pegasi,” he reported to Eirika.

“Oh, right, they hate rain, don’t they?” Eirika turned her body to face Seth. “Should I get help for her?”

“It seems she has the shelter under control. Her pegasus, less so.”

“What about the wyverns?”

“They’ll be fine…” Glen answered. “They’ll be grumpy… But they’ll be fine.”

She nodded, and silence fell between them again. Eirika looked to be lost in thought… with her gaze seemingly fixed on his chest. His bare chest. The cleric hadn’t covered him up after placing the iced towels on him, for understandable reasons, but… Glen forced himself to stare at the wall opposite Eirika lest the situation became even more uncomfortable. He tried to focus on his breathing, though every time he took a breath, he wished he weren’t.

Seth seemed to notice Glen’s plight, and coughed slightly. “Princess Eirika…”

“O-oh!” Snapping out of her thoughts, Eirika quickly turned to face Seth, clearly flustered. “Wh-what is it, Seth?”

“We should call a meeting with Prince Innes and Saleh later today to determine our course of action. Hastening to Jehanna Hall is our top priority. We’ve no idea when Grado will strike…”

“Oh, but…” Eirika glanced at Glen. “He’s still…”

“Go without me… I’ll only slow you down.” There was no way he’d be able to recover fast enough to join them. Besides, even if he could recover that quickly, he didn’t know how Sieghart was doing. If Sieghart wasn’t in flying condition, there was no point anyways. “General Caellach informed me of this place, so… I’m sure Grado’s forces are already waiting for you when you leave the mountain path.”

“General Caellach?” It seemed Eirika was unfamiliar with the name, and turned to Seth.

“He’s one of the newly-appointed generals in the Grado Imperial Army,” he explained. “Prince Innes’ spies reported that he was a Jehannan mercenary who was promoted after his participation on the attack on Renais.”

Glen’s eyes widened slightly, surprised by how much Seth knew about the man. Though there was information that couldn’t be hidden, Grado’s own intelligence agency had tried to obscure as much information about their new generals as they could. Caellach wasn’t a famous mercenary, either, and didn’t work under any guild. Yet the rebel army knew his origins.

Now that I think about it, Prince Innes has a reputation for leading a massive spy network that spans all of Magvel. And I did mention Caellach’s past to Duke Waeren when I went to Serafew… Is that how they know? I was angry about His Majesty’s decisions, and didn’t pay attention to who was around…

Bygones were bygones, but Glen felt a bit irritated that his own carelessness gave his former enemies precious intel, even if they were now his allies.

Eirika stood up to leave. “General Seth, may we pay you a visit later? For now, I have duties to attend to.”

Glen smiled slightly. “Of course.” As the two were about to walk out the door, he remembered something he had to ask. “…Please wait.”

They turned around, and he continued. “The cleric from before… Who…?”

“Ah? Oh, that was Sister Natasha.” Just as he’d feared, that cleric was indeed the traitor he gave permission to Saar to execute. “Why…?”

“I… don’t want her to attend me.” Glen knew it was a selfish request. He knew he was being cruel to her, but the thought of having someone who nearly died because of him now heal him pained him almost as much as his physical wounds did.

“Wh… Did she do something wrong? Shall I tell her—”

“No. She was good. I’s just… I can’t. I can’t have her heal me.”

Seth started, saying “That’s—” before Eirika cut him off.

“Alright.” Silencing Seth’s protests, she continued, “I’ll ask L’Arachel to heal you instead in the meantime. She’s less experienced, so Natasha can treat our remaining troops in the meantime.”

Though he clearly looked dissatisfied, Seth gave a curt nod. After bidding their farewells, they two departed again, though Glen knew they looked at him a little differently now.

Trying wave off his request as being for Natasha’s sake more than anything, Glen managed to fall into a restless sleep before he was woken by the sound of Sieg’s cry, then Matthias’ “Whoa, whoa!”

Focusing on the source of the noise with eyes closed, Glen noticed that he no longer heard rain outside. His companion continued, “You can’t fit in here, Sieg! C’mon, I know you wanna see him too, but you’re too big for this door! Here, let’s go around…”

Opening his eyes when he heard footsteps approach him, he saw Justus looming over him with a grin on face. “Catching up on all the beauty sleep you’ve been skipping, Glen?”

Glen growled in annoyance, earning him a chuckle. A knock on the window caught their attention, and Justus started for it. When he opened the shutters, Sieghart immediately stuck his face in, his eyes just barely able to peer into the room.

Justus laughed again. “Well, look who’s here!”

Glen chuckled and stretched a hand out as if to pet his wyvern’s snout, ignoring the pain to the best of his ability. Justus pet Sieghart in Glen’s stead, and the wyvern made a low sound in its throat. Seeing that its master was alright, the wyvern withdrew after several seconds before nestling in front of the window.

“You gonna stick around out here, Sieg? …Alright, I’ll be going in, then.” After a moment, Matthias joined Justus, taking a seat next to Glen.

Glen smiled weakly. “You guys… came to see me…”

Matthias looked surprised before replying with an uneasy smile, “What, you thought we wouldn’t?” When he earned no response, Matthias sighed. “Oh brother. You and Cormag being in the same exact mood at the same time is just too much.”

“Mood?”

“You know, the one you always get in.” Glen gave him a blank stare for a response, so he continued, “The one where you think that everything’s your fault and try making sure everyone stays away from you.”

“I am not in that mood,” Glen tried to protest.

“Trust me, you sure are,” Justus piped up. “Princess Eirika told us about what you said about Sister Natasha, you know.”

He didn’t, not until now, and Glen pouted in displeasure. “I didn’t say anything about her.”

“No, just that you don’t want her around you for whatever reason.” Seeing that Glen was becoming less responsive, Justus prodded him. “You can tell us. Get it off your chest.”

Although the only response they got was Glen chewing on his lip, at least they could tell that he was considering it, and they waited. As they waited, Justus peered outside before turning back. “Sieg’s asleep,” he reported in a soft voice, and Matthias smiled.

“Natasha is…” Glen suddenly spoke, causing them to turn their gazes on him. “She’s the traitor from Grado Keep. When I was in Serafew… I gave Saar permission to hunt her down and kill her…”

“So you are in that mood,” Matthias commented. “But you didn’t come up with the idea, right? You just gave permission for him to do so.”

“Same thing.”

Matthias shrugged, then suddenly reached out to feel Glen’s forehead with the back of his hand.

“Wha—”

“Checking for a fever.” Taking note of the full cup, he continued, “Have you drank any water? You’ll be feeling even worse if you don’t.”

Glen shook his head slightly. “I won’t keep it down… I don’t think. And I can’t sit up.”

Justus eyed one of the towels wrapped around ice that lay on Glen’s wounds. “Here, let’s try this,” he said as he took one off. Glen winced as the change in pressure made his knee throb again. He heard ice breaking, and Justus handed him a smaller piece of ice. “Suck on this. It should be better than trying to drink water.”

As Glen put the ice in his mouth, Justus asked, “How long has this ice been on you? Do you know?” Glen shook his head, and Justus looked to Matthias. “We should probably take it off, then. Leaving it on too long isn’t good.”

Matthias nodded, and the two moved the iced towels off. Though he didn’t say anything, Glen was glad they noticed. The coldness had started piercing his bones in an uncomfortable way, but he wasn’t in much position to move them off himself. They sat in silence for a brief period, and Glen appreciated the fact that he had the piece of ice in his mouth to concentrate on. Sometimes the two of them annoyed him beyond belief, but in the end, they still looked out for him.

“Just so you know,” Justus suddenly began, “we’re to follow Princess Tana now. Figured I may as well fill you in on what’s going on. Well, this Tana is a pegasus knight and she actually was the first person to help us out after you went down.”

Matthias chuckled, though Glen wasn’t sure at what. “Get this, Glen: She kicked Valter in the head!” When Glen whirled his head to stare wide-eyed, he gave another laugh. “Yeah, she actually jumped off her pegasus and kicked him! Well, that’s actually what probably saved Cormag’s life, so you have her to thank for that.”

Glen couldn’t keep his awe out of his voice. “Unbelievable…”

They laughed again, and talked more about how Valter was forced to retreat, about the people in their new army, about some of the gossip going around, about how Cormag had made some new friends.

Cormag.

Glen wanted to feel happy that his baby brother was getting along with people in this camp—in Grado, Cormag rarely drifted from his side after he moved Cormag into his division. But now, the name cast a heavy, wet blanket over his heart and mind.

“Glen! Do you have any idea what you’re saying?!”

Those words were tinged in betrayal. When they left Grado, Glen knew that he was going to shatter Cormag’s expectations of him, but knowing this didn’t help him at all now. He knew Cormag would be furious with him, feeling utterly betrayed by the brother who’d raised him. Actually going through the motions now, though, crushed his spirit far more than any wound could hurt him.

He told Eirika that there was nothing left for him in Grado, as Cormag had accompanied him. But now, it didn’t seem like there was anything left for him here.

Tears stung his eyes, and he reflexively covered his eyes with his arm. He heard his own sniffling, emerging in spite of himself, turn into ugly sobs even as he tried to suppress them. The hand rubbing his shoulder, trying to calm him down, provided no relief. He heard the door and the shutters close, and he stopped holding himself back.

Chapter Text

When Cormag found the energy to walk around camp, he found his feet took him towards the edge of the village, towards a sparse forest. He’d caught a glimpse of Artur in camp, but Artur was preoccupied with conversation in the busiest section of camp, and he wasn’t in the mood to get caught up in that.

Everything that happened in the past day was still sinking into his mind, and all of it made him want to crawl away and hide. It was only his pride as a (former) Grado elite soldier that kept him on his feet. The thoughts traveling his mind were racing too fast for him to keep up, and he really wished they would just shut up.

Everything was Glen’s fault. Everything was his fault. Everything was Valter’s fault. Everything was Vigarde’s fault. He should be visiting Glen. But then again, Glen brought this on himself. But Glen was doing what he thought was right. Besides, it was Valter who abandoned his original duty and almost killed Glen. And Valter was only here because Vigarde brought him back. To begin with, Vigarde should’ve had him executed, not exiled—

Cormag was so engrossed in his thoughts that he barely registered the sound of an arrow being notched and fired. He instinctively drew back, and not even a second later, an arrow embedded itself in the tree, right where his head could’ve been.

Whirling his head around, Cormag saw the pink-haired archer on the hill overlooking the forest, holding her bow with a glower on her face. She had been among those to first react when they’d confronted Eirika. Was she still suspicious? Was she planning on killing him while his guard was down? Cormag silently cursed himself for not keeping his weapon on hand. He hadn’t thought that he would be under threat, but…

Her face dropped and her eyes widened, looking equally as surprised as he was. In fact, her eyes began welling up before she burst into tears. She sank to the ground, wiping at her eyes furiously.

Cormag wasn’t sure if this was some sort of trick to set him up, but he didn’t even have the energy to protest anything anymore. Before he could do anything, though, her blue-haired companion ran up to her.

“Neimi! What’s wrong?! Why’re you crying? Again?”

His use of “again” seemed to suggest her tears were a common occurrence, which eased Cormag’s worries a bit. This didn’t last for long, though, as he overheard the man ask, “Did he do something?”

Cormag’s voice caught in his throat as white-hot rage surged through him. Why him? Sure, he was pretty rough around the edges, but he hadn’t done anything. He gave his loyalty to Eirika, didn’t he? What more did people want from him?!

Before he could say anything, he heard Neimi choke out “N-no… He… he didn’t do anything” between sobs. Cormag instantly felt guilty that his first reaction was to almost lose his temper, again. Everything had been getting under his skin and putting him on edge, and he didn’t like it.

To give Neimi a bit of privacy, the boy shielded her with his tattered cloak as he knelt next to her. Waiting for the situation to diffuse, Cormag awkwardly looked around for something more to do than just stand around. Spying the arrow that had nearly embedded into his skull instead of the tree behind him, he carefully pulled it out. He was glad his early training in the Grado army had him try out all different weapons. At least he knew how to extract an arrow without breaking it.

When he walked over, the boy acknowledged his presence with a glance of his head. “Neimi, he’s not going to hate you. Look, he even brought your arrow back!”

When he only received sniffles in response, he continued, “Ne-i-mi. Come on.”

“I’m trying, Colm… It…it just won’t stop…!”

Colm turned to Cormag as Neimi slowly stood up. “Don’t worry about her. Any time she almost gets upset, she starts crying like this. A fly gets near her pie? She’s gonna start crying. She remembers her pet fox she set free? You bet’cha the tears are gonna come out.”

“Mr. Kit was such a good fox, Colm!” Neimi was still wiping her eyes and nose, but she could make out a whole sentence without sniffling now.

“The whole army’s used to it by now.”

Cormag held out the arrow to her. “Well, uh, at least I know you weren’t tryna kill me. It just came so close to hitting me, and you had… er…”

According to his brother, it was usually a bad idea to point out a person’s expressions to them. It certainly didn’t seem like it would be a good idea to tell her she had a scary look on her face, especially if that would send her back into crying.

He didn’t need to say it, though, since Colm did it for him. “She makes a scary face when she’s concentrating, right?! Right?!”

“T-there’s only so many faces you can make when you’re concentrating! You look like that when you see something you can steal!”

“You seriously look like you’re gonna kill someone!”

“But… I’m not the only one who makes scary faces! Gilliam did it too! …Well, that was on purpose. And, um, he—” she pointed at Cormag “—he made a really scary face when I nearly hit him, too! That’s why I thought he was mad.”

“The name’s Cormag. And,” he scratched the back of his head, “fair enough, I guess. People always tell me I look like a younger and angrier version of my brother.”

At the mention of Glen, Neimi fidgeted. “Oh, I’m sorry… I…”

“Huh? Oh, if it’s about him being, y’know, it’s fine. I’ve…accepted it.” He shifted his eyes to the side to mask his emotions, but Neimi continued.

“O-oh, I meant about pointing my bow at him yesterday… But there’s also that…”

Having been a soldier for many years, it had completely slipped Cormag’s mind that most people weren’t used to pointing weapons at other human beings.

“Oh, uh, that? It’s fine. I mean, you did what you had to, right? Besides, you have great aim. Nothing to be ashamed of there.”

Neimi’s cheeks started turning pink when he complimented her. Are girls always get easily flustered? First the princess, now her…

“A-am I really that good?”

“I mean, you almost shot Valter through the knee. I’d say that’s pretty good. That’s what made him retreat, too.”

“Well… When something needs to be done, I do it.”

Colm interrupted, “Valter’s that greasy guy from yesterday, right?”

Cormag gave a slight chuckle, wishing he could blow off Valter as some “greasy guy.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. He’s one of Grado’s generals, so his skills are nothing to laugh at. Doesn’t help that he’s almost completely insane.”

“When Colm and I attacked him, it was like—” Neimi’s hands shook slightly, and Cormag didn’t miss that. “—It was like we didn’t even exist to him. He only noticed because I almost got his knee.”

“Yeaaah, he’s… a very single-minded person, let’s say.” Cormag hung his head in resignation, pressing a hand to the back of his neck. “Honestly, it’s probably better that he didn’t care about you guys. He—”

Before he could continue, Tethys’ voice called out to them from the main part of camp. “Hey there, kids! Lunchtime! Don’t miss out, because the villagers made something good for us today!”

At the word “lunch,” Colm was just about salivating. Without waiting for his companions, he ran off ahead. “C’mon, Neimi, let’s go get something to eat! You too, Cormag!”

“Oh, Colm,” she sighed. “Why are you like this?”

Tana didn’t realize she was absentmindedly stabbing at her food until Innes’ voice broke her train of thought.

“Tana, is something the matter? Are you feeling unwell? You were exposed to the rain earlier.”

Normally, she was a quick eater, but today everyone else had finished their meals while hers was only half-eaten.

“Er… No, brother, that’s not it.”

“Is it not to your tastes?”

She sighed. “No, Innes, the food is fine. I was just thinking.”

“Evidently so,” he scoffed before changing the subject. “The rain’s cleared, but we’re letting the path dry some before we depart. We’ll be leaving tomorrow morning. You should take this time to train and make sure Achaeus is well-rested.”

Without awaiting her reply, he left, and Eirika took his place. She sat down across from Tana with a smile, but it was the kind of smile she used to mask her worries. As a fellow princess, Tana practiced such a face often.

“It’s not like you to be this slow to eat, Tana,” she giggled. “Was Achaeus being difficult?”

Tana sighed. “Well, he was, but… That’s not it.” In Eirika’s attentive silence, she continued. “I just paid a visit to Sir Glen earlier, but…”

After leaving Cormag’s tent in high spirits from his praise, she passed by the hut Glen was housed in. Figuring that she should pay the man a visit in Cormag’s stead, she walked in only to find him sobbing where he lay on the ground. Matthias waved for her to leave them alone, and she hastily shut the door. Stunned, she stood at long enough to hear his sobs grow even louder before running as far from them as she could.

Of course, men had feelings, even if she sometimes found that hard to believe. But she never expected to see a general—especially not one of the Imperial Three—so vulnerable. It had been on her mind ever since.

Even if Innes treats me so horribly all the time, he’s almost always the first to find me whenever I get injured. If he never came to see me…I’d probably also…

“How is Sir Cormag during all this?”

“Cormag said—” seeing a mischievous, knowing smile dance on Eirika’s lips, she hastily explained, “he insisted that I not use honorifics with him, really—that he doesn’t want to see him.”

Eirika’s smile quickly fell. “Is that so…”

Seeing that Eirika had remembered something unpleasant, Tana pressed her for details.

“It’s just… Earlier, Sir Glen told me that he does not wish for Sister Natasha to see him.”

“Huh? Why? She’s a great healer! Isn’t she from Grado, too? You’d think he’d want another Gradoan to be healing him!” Tana’s bewilderment was met with a shake of the head.

“He didn’t explain it to me, but he said she was fine. There’s just…something he can’t say.”

Men’s logic existed on another plane of reality, Tana decided in her heart. She knew this well: she’d been living with Innes her whole life.

“He also told us to leave him behind when we leave tomorrow,” Eirika continued. “But it doesn’t seem right to leave him here all alone…”

“He won’t be strong enough to travel?”

Eirika shook her head. “Grandmother told me it would take around a week for him to be able to recover enough to stand.”

Tana winced in sympathy. She’d gotten sick enough, once, to stay bedridden for two days. Those two days were enough to bore her nearly to death, so she couldn’t imagine having to stay in place for a whole seven. She didn’t want to imagine it.

And if they were leaving tomorrow… If Cormag went with her, without ever seeing his brother again, and something happened to him…

Tana swallowed thickly and chewed on her lower lip in thought. “I should talk to Cormag.”

“About Glen? But you just said that he didn’t want to…”

Tana stood up. “Don’t worry, Eirika. I’ll find a way.”

It didn’t take longer for her to find him. As she’d expected, he was at the wyverns’ corral, tending to Genarog. When she arrived, she found him pacifying his wyvern, who was hissing and snarling at Ruvest. From what she could make out, Ruvest had attempted to steal Genarog’s food and was nearly bitten in return. Genarog had been stopped before he could inflict any injury on the smaller wyvern, but she was now huddled in a corner sulking as Cormag appeased Genarog.

Since Cormag was preoccupied, Tana instead turned her attention to Matthias and Larissa, who was busy devouring Lute’s offering of carrots. She knew pegasi were herbivorous, and Achaeus enjoyed carrots, but she never thought wyverns liked them as well.

“It really depends on the wyvern. Kinda like us,” Matthias explained. “Some people like carrots, some people don’t. Some wyverns are picky eaters, some of them will eat anything you put in front of them.”

Justus continued, “Don’t even think about giving vegetables to Genarog or Andrassy. They love meat. Feed them lettuce, they’ll probably eat you. They’ll eat it if they’re desperate, but they’d probably just hunt for meat anyways.”

Tana placed an index finger to her chin. The wyverns were quite a bit bigger than pegasi. Even Guille, the smallest of them, was probably two-and-a-half feet longer than Achaeus. It didn’t escape her notice that Larissa, now that she understood Lute to be a food-bearer, was snooping around Lute to see if the girl had any more food, though to no avail.

In Frelia, Achaeus ate around fourteen pounds of hay over the course of a day. Because he was participating in battles and using more energy now, it was around seventeen pounds a day. (Seth had not been terribly pleased about having to rebalance the army’s rations to accommodate her and Achaeus when she joined unexpectedly.)

Wyverns probably had to eat even more than pegasi did, and she pointed at Larissa. “How much do they eat?”

The two men laughed, and Lute pulled out a notebook to jot down notes.

“Way too much!”

“They’d probably eat a person out of their house and home.”

“Wyverns can be a chore. That’s why there’s only a small number of us. Maybe… Hey, Cormag, do you remember?”

Cormag gave a brief glance over at Matthias before turning back to Genarog, who was still huffing and shifting around. “I think it’s around forty. Maybe forty-five.”

Tana blinked. “F-forty-five only? That’s…”

“Barely more than a platoon, yeah. And the total size of our army is roughly eight thousand men.”

Truth be told, the numbers didn’t really mean anything to her. She didn’t know the size of her own country’s military—she never had much interest in it, and her father didn’t want her to be involved with the battlefield. Innes would know better what eight thousand men looked like, but all she knew was that Grado had a lot of soldiers, and not a lot of wyvern riders at all.

From what Syrene had told her when she first started her pegasus knight training, Frelia’s pegasus knights took up around a quarter of their army. But pegasi were relatively easy to care for in Frelia, as they only needed to eat hay, oats, beans, and sometimes other plants like carrots as a treat. Because Frelia’s terrain was mostly plains and low hills, it was easy to grow the crops they subsisted on.

There were also cases of mercenaries having pegasi, particularly in Carcino which did not have its own standing army. Tana had never heard of wyvern-riding mercenaries, though. Originally, she thought it was only because they were vicious, but looking at them now, it was probably less because of their temperament (though they were undeniably aggressive) and more the sheer cost of taking care of one.

“Say horses eat around twenty pounds of hay a day,” Justus explained. “Andrassy can eat a whole cow in one sitting.”

As Lute furiously scribbled down notes, Tana looked between Justus and Andrassy with an eyebrow quirked in disbelief. “One…whole cow?”

Andrassy gave a small, satisfied screech. “He likes cows the most because they’re nice and meaty,” Justus translated.

“And they do this every day?”

“Oh, no, no! Eating a whole cow isn’t that regular. See, wyverns don’t eat at regular intervals. What they do is that they gorge themselves, and then they can go several weeks with relatively little food.”

Lute spoke up for the first time in the conversation. “And by little food, you mean…?”

Justus shrugged with one shoulder, and Matthias laughed as he stood up. It seemed that Larissa herself was hungry, as she had been nudging the back of his head with increasing force and just started gently nipping at him, forcing him to turn his attention to her.

Justus continued, “Ehhhh, I’d say it ranges between something small like a rabbit, to something as big as a deer. Depends how much energy they want to store up.”

Peeking at Lute’s notebook, Tana watched as the girl scribbled “ASK ARTUR TO HELP CATCH DEER. BEFRIEND WYERNS W/ MEAT.” The girl also underlined “meat” several times, which Tana found oddly amusing. She felt a vague sense of pity for the poor monk as she attempted to imagine the two slim magic users dragging a deer carcass back to camp. The monk was stronger than she expected—Innes told her that monasteries tended to be self-sufficient, so Artur likely learned to toil and tend to farms and it gave him muscle hidden by his robes—but a deer was still a deer.

“But enough about us old fellas,” Justus suddenly piped up with a sly grin, pointedly addressing Tana. “I’m sure you’re more interested in a certain someone else, hm?”

When Tana saw that his gaze had shifted over to Cormag, she reddened. “It… it… it’s not like that! I’m not… no! I haven’t even known him for a day! How could I…?!”

“Ah… So our little princess is one of those hopeless romantics, huh? I guess short flings here and there aren’t your thing. Or is it because of your station? You’re young and dreaming of a picturesque romance before you’re inevitably pawned off in an arranged marriage, hm?”

“F-for your information, the Frelian family does not… Wai—Lute, just what are you writing down?!”

“Observations,” the mage shot back cheekily.

“It’s certainly not like that, though, right? She said so herself,” Justus continued. At this point, he didn’t even bother hiding the amusement he was deriving from the exchange.

“Of course not,” Lute responded in turn. “It would be preposterous to think she desires that sort of relationship with a renegade Gradoan wyvern rider.”

Tana’s face reddened even further in embarrassment. The combination of a shameless bully and a perpetual straight face is truly something to behold…

Cormag came to her rescue, to her simultaneous relief and further embarrassment. “You really need to stop cracking crude jokes, Justus.”

The older man sighed overdramatically. “If I wanted to be crude, Cormag, I’d—”

“Hey Genarog, I give you permission to take a bite out of Justus’ arm.”

Genarog moved a bit too eagerly at that comment, and Justus’ face fell completely as he took a large step back. “Hey, hey! Cormag, wait! You can’t do that! You know he’ll gladly take a chunk out of me!”

“Then stop teasing our new boss.”

“Fine, fine. I yield!” Justus gave a grin that was far too cheerful to be genuine, but Tana just wanted to move on at this point.

“Sir Cormag, I, um…” Asking him to see his brother seemed far too straightforward when she was still a stranger to him, so she quickly found an excuse to mask her true intentions. “Can you… teach me how to ride a wyvern?”

She’d just grabbed desperately for a topic, so she was just as surprised as everyone else with her question. Before she could try and come up with a reason, though, Cormag came up with one for her.

“…Ah, if something happened to your pegasus, you’d essentially be debilitated. You’re not accustomed to fighting on land, are you?”

“Nope!” Realizing she sounded a bit too cheerful about this glaring flaw, she continued, “My training was completed pretty recently. And pegasus knight training is rigorous, so we usually spend all our time practicing fighting from the skies. It’s a totally different world from fighting on land… as you know.”

Eep! Cormag’s an experienced wyvern rider! I probably sound stupid explaining things that he already knows… How am I supposed to lead them if I always sound like a rookie?

To her relief, Cormag didn’t seem bothered at all. “The army doesn’t seem to have any spare pegasi either, does it?”

“As we were talking about before, pegasi are high-maintenance creatures. Lovely, of course, but taking care of them is a bit of effort. So we didn’t bring any extra pegasi since we weren’t meant to be an invasion force.”

At Cormag’s quirked brow, she continued, “I don’t know all the details since I wasn’t allowed into the war meeting, but… Innes and Eirika were two separate forces meant to travel quickly to Jehanna and Rausten. But because of, well, stuff, we ended up joining together. So we weren’t exactly designed to be fighting huge battles.”

Cormag nodded slowly. “So if we’re taking Guille and Ruvest along anyways, may as well learn to use them, is that right?”

“Yup!”

“The princess of Frelia, riding a Gradoan wyvern?” Cormag gave an amused chuckle. “You are one weird girl, you know?”

Tana flashed a grin back. “It’s my best trait, promise!”

To Tana’s relief, Cormag chose to humor her request. The first order of business was teaching her how to feed and groom a wyvern, using Genarog as an example. The wyvern took a step back upon seeing her approach, however, and she froze in her spot.

“Um… I don’t think he likes me…”

“Nah, it’s just because you’re a stranger. C’mon, Genarog. She’s nice.”

Genarog peered at her for several more seconds before bumping her forehead with her snout. Tana gave a small yelp of surprise as Cormag chuckled.

“That’s the Genarog stamp of approval. I guess he was impressed by your combat moves yesterday.”

“Please, that was nothing to be proud of…”

“Maybe it wasn’t professional, but it sure was effective. I think Matthias would have a better memory of how well you fought, though. Ask him later about it.”

That strain of conversation ended there as Cormag showed her how to understand wyverns. How they ate, how their teeth were structured, how to tell whether they were tired or hungry. After a bit, Genarog was tired of being Cormag’s demonstration and curled up with his head nestled away as if to say, “Go pick on someone else.” With a laugh, they moved over to Guille, who was a much more eager subject.

“Guille’s pretty young,” Cormag noted when Guille nuzzled into his hand as he stroked the wyvern’s snout. “He’s really responsive to the attention we give him, see? Here, give it a try.”

As Tana reached her hand out, Guille lowered his head even more to make himself more accessible. With a giggle, she gave him a stout rub on the snout before moving her hand up to the top of his head and giving him a long, gentle rub. He took especially well to that and shifted his whole body towards her with an approving growl.

Cormag smirked. “Heh. Looks like you’re a natural! Or maybe the wivre breeds are just more affectionate as a whole. Either way, he absolutely loves you already.”

He then walked over to Guille’s side and smoothed his hand over the wyvern’s back. After a moment’s pause, he gave a stout pat to Guille’s back, and the wyvern obediently lay down. “This is how they know to lay down,” Cormag explained again for clarity. “Here, get on his back.”

“Without a saddle?” Tana had never ridden any creature bareback before, not even Achaeus.

“If I’m to make a custom saddle for you, I need to know how you sit on him.”

“The saddles the other riders wore won’t work?”

“Hm? Do pegasus knights not use custom-fit saddles? With wyverns, since being thrown off is a pretty important issue, all saddles need to fit the rider perfectly. I doubt a saddle designed for a man a foot taller than you will fit you.”

“Oh…” Now that she thought about it, Tana remembered that her saddle was made custom-fit for her when she received Achaeus. The saddle had been a gift from Syrene. “In Frelia, most pegasus knights are around the same size. We do use custom-fit saddles, but I guess it isn’t that hard to figure out when most of us are similar.”

Cormag nodded in understanding, then pat the top of Guille’s back. “Alright, Tana, sit up here.” After she did so, he began to reach his hand out before stopping himself. With a slight tinge of red in his cheeks, he sputtered, “I, uh… I kinda have to put my hand near… y’know. To get the measurements for a saddle.”

Tana’s face turned what she was sure was a spectacular shade of red, and she was extremely glad she was wearing her training pants instead of her combat shorts and skirt. “W-well… it can’t be helped, so, erm. Please, go ahead.”

She looked away as Cormag moved around her, muttering measurements to himself. After what felt like an eternity, he finally said “Alright, princess. You can get off now. And, uh, sorry about that.”

“I-it’s no matter! Really, you’re doing me a huge favor, so I can’t complain.”

“Well, without a saddle, there’s not much I can do for you in terms of training, so I guess we’ll break here. I’ll see if I can modify one of the other saddles so I don’t have to try and buy all-new material for one.”

“Well, if you need anything, just ask me! You’re talking to a princess, after all. I’m sure I can get it one way or another.”

“Fair enough,” he grinned. Just as she was about to walk away, he suddenly spoke again. “Wait, Tana.”

“Huh?”

“…Was there… something else you wanted to talk to me about? I just have a feeling you didn’t come here to ask me how to ride a wyvern.”

I… I completely got caught up in everything earlier that I forgot! Aaah! And how did he know, too? This is too much embarrassment for one day!

“…Tana?”

Realizing she had gotten flushed again and had turned her whole body away from him, Tana took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Looking into his eyes, which reflected a mix between confusion and amusement, she replied, “Actually, there… was something I intended to ask you about.”

Cormag was silent for a second, perhaps already anticipating what she was going to say. “Very well. What is it?”

“Will you… visit your brother before we leave?” He bristled at the question, so she continued, “I know you don’t want to see him like that, but… I’m sure he’d be heartbroken. If you left without seeing him, and then you never came back… if something happened to you in battle, and he couldn’t be there…”

With quivering lips, she managed to utter, “I… I know the terror of almost losing my older brother. I remember thinking ‘The last time I spoke with him might really be our last.’ It… it was an argument. We were both being stubborn, I got mad, and I stormed off and never even said goodbye before he left. Then I ran away from home to join Eirika, and we found out Innes was ambushed by Carcino and already lost half his men…”

If she’d looked up, she would have seen the concern in Cormag’s eyes. She kept her eyes to the ground, though, her vision blurred with tears. At this point, she didn’t know why she was still talking, but she couldn’t stop.

“I knew that a lot of our soldiers died when Grado ambushed the Tower of Valni out of nowhere. But seeing all the men that died protecting Innes… it was my first time seeing so many of our soldiers dead. Maybe just a day ago, or hours ago, they were laughing… talking about their futures… and now it’s all just gone. Innes could have been one of them. Gerik and Tethys could have been one of them, too. And if Tethys died… then Ewan would be… he’d lose his only sister… It’s horrible…”

Cormag shifted uncomfortably. It dawned on him now just how many people in this so-called army were completely new to warfare. They weren’t here out of naïve dreams of glory. They were here to protect someone else or because they had nowhere else to go. These were the people that his emperor had ordered them to hunt and kill.

He had no words to console the princess, and he had no right to. A day ago, he was blindly following orders without thinking about what they meant. Hell, he’d been angry at his own brother for risking his life to stick to his beliefs. Shame pierced his heart to the core.

Licking his dry lips, he tried offering what little solace he could. “I’ll do it, Princess. I’ll go and talk to Glen before we leave. So please, don’t cry… I…”

Matthias swiftly came to his rescue, and Lute, who had left a bit earlier upon seeing Tana start tearing up, dragged Artur and Neimi back with her.

“It’s alright, Princess Tana,” Matthias consoled as he placed a strong hand on her shoulder. “It’s good to let your emotions out. C’mon, let’s sit down, okay? Lute’s brought Artur and Neimi, too. They can probably help you better than us old vets can can.”

With Neimi’s help, Tana was guided over to a log to sit down as Cormag stared dumbly after them. Guille’s low growl caught his attention, and the wyvern looked at Tana with a tilt of its head.

Cormag rubbed the back of Guille’s neck sadly as he fed the wyvern a treat for his earlier cooperation. “Sorry, Guille. Looks like that’s all the headpats you’ll be getting from her today.” 

It wasn’t until late in the night when Cormag went to see Glen, when most of the camp was asleep. There wasn’t any need for him to have gone so late, but Cormag didn’t want anyone to pry into his affairs. Nobody would’ve batted an eyelash, of course, but Cormag had that funny sort of pride. As he quietly made his way to Glen’s house, he heard Prince Innes, Saleh, and Seth talking in low voices in a candlelit tent. As he passed, Innes briefly lifted the tent flap to see who it was. Upon recognizing him, Innes gave a curt nod of understanding and went back to his business.

Once Cormag arrived, he knocked on the door but didn’t bother waiting for a response before he entered. It didn’t matter to him whether Glen was awake to know of his visit. He wasn’t even sure what he had to say to his brother. If Glen was asleep, that would’ve been fine. At the very least, he’d see his brother before he left.

It didn’t surprise him, though, that Glen was wide awake, staring at the ceiling as the candles near him flickered. Glen gave him a moment’s glance before returning his gaze to the ceiling. Cormag closed the door behind him, and hesitantly shuffled over to the window, maintaining a healthy distance from Glen.

There was silence between them for a minute or so. Cormag couldn’t read Glen’s expression at all, but he glanced at his brother’s form. It didn’t escape his notice how controlled and labored his chest rose and fell. He didn’t know how much pain it took that even breathing was difficult, and he didn’t want to know.

“…So, you came.”

Glen broke the silence. His voice reflected neither joy nor anger. It was simply a statement.

“I’m here. Glen.” Cormag responded because he felt the need say something in response, but he didn’t know what to say.

“Did Princess Tana ask you to come?”

Cormag quirked an eyebrow. “How’d you know?”

“Someone told me you’d made some… good friends.” A small smile crossed his face as he heard Cormag’s disgruntled sigh. The younger brother had always hated being talked about.

“I’m glad,” Glen continued. “You’ve never liked being with people. But you seem to be getting by here.”

Cormag knew what Glen was getting at, and he did not like it. Not one bit. Between gritted teeth, he snapped back, “Don’t say that.”

“Heh.”

Silence fell between them again. At this point, being in his brother’s presence again, Cormag didn’t even feel any of the anger or self-loathing he’d felt earlier. He wanted to say something, just find the damn words so he could part with his brother on a good note. But it was as Glen had said. He’d never liked being around people, and he never knew what to say.

This is my brother! Why can’t I even find the blasted words to say to him…?!

Cormag didn’t even notice he was digging his nails into his arms in frustration until he heard his name called. Looking over at Glen, he saw his brother give a slight shake of his head before realizing what he was doing.

Glen beckoned him to come closer, and as Cormag complied, he saw his brother struggle to sit up. “Don’t push yourself,” he warned, but he helped his brother up anyways.

A flicker of pain crossed Glen’s face as he leaned back against the wall, but it was replaced by an immense sadness. The hand Glen had placed on Cormag’s shoulder for support also lingered even though he no longer needed it. Suddenly, Glen pulled Cormag close, and it took all Cormag’s strength not to topple over his brother’s frail body as he managed to find a precarious balance.

“Glen—!”

It occurred to him then that Glen had buried his face into Cormag’s shoulder, preventing them from seeing each other’s faces. He had also wrapped his arms around Cormag in a loose embrace, as it was all he could manage with his current strength. The slight tremble of his arms as they strained for reach told Cormag as much. Cormag felt a weight sinking at the bottom of his guts, afraid what was to come.

“Glen…? I told you, don’t…”

Cormag stopped himself as he felt tears stain the shoulder of his tunic as Glen’s arms began to tremble for a different reason. Biting his lip, Cormag willed the tears stinging at his own eyes to go back in. Seeing his eyes didn’t want to obey his mind, he tried to distract himself by remembering Neimi’s “It…it just won’t stop!” from earlier, but this only served to make the tears well up even more.

“Cormag…” Glen spoke in a low, weak voice that reminded Cormag all too well how precarious his situation still was. “Pa died the winter before you were born, and Ma was never in good health…”

Cormag knew where this was going, and he didn’t like it. “Stop… Glen, don’t…”

“I took care of you the best I could these past twenty-three years. You’ve always been a good kid, Cormag… You never gave me any trouble… You were the best brother I could’ve ever asked for…”

“Stop that… stop… I don’t want to hear it…”

“Stuff happens, you know? I might not see you after this… So…”

“You… you’re going to make it through, Glen… Don’t say that…”

Cormag couldn’t envision a future without his brother with him. Farming, cooking, training, missions… everything he’d ever done, he’d done with Glen by his side. Imagining doing any of those things without his brother was like leaving a hole where he should be. It wasn’t possible, there was no way he could do it…

Glen continued as though Cormag hadn’t said anything. “I want you to live for yourself from now on. You’ve been by my side for so long… I want you to be free. The people in Princess Eirika’s army are kind… I’m sure they’ll take care of you. Don’t worry about me.”

Temporarily breaking Glen’s hold on him, Cormag shifted onto both knees and pressed his head into Glen’s shoulder this time, wrapping his arms around Glen as tight as he could without crushing him. He didn’t care if his sobbing and sniffling were undignified and unbecoming. He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to leave Glen alone. But there also wasn’t anything he could do to help, and he knew that. All he could do was engrave these precious few moments into his heart, one last time.

“Glen, I… I…”

“I know, Cormag. I love you too. Stay strong. You can do this.”

Chapter Text

The mugginess of Za’albul Marsh made the war council tent almost unbearable for Ephraim, who was accustomed to Renais’ nippier mountain air. The unpleasant discussion unfolding before him only made things worse.

“The Frelian army calls for the execution of General Selena Fluorspar in front of the imperial capital.” Syrene, commander of Frelia’s third pegasus knight battalion and second-in-command of the Grado Invasion Force, was first to speak.

Across the table from her stood Duessel, former general of the Grado Imperial Army. His brows were furrowed and his hand obscured his mouth, hiding his full expression from the rest of the room. It was clear, however, that he was conflicted.

From Ephraim’s perspective, Selena was an honorable general who was only doing her duty. Myrrh approached the woman herself in order to recover her dragonstone, which—allegedly—Lyon had requested her to find. (Selena was as clueless to the reason as anyone else. Perhaps it was to use its power to save his father?) During Ephraim’s search for the missing manakete, his forces clashed with Selena’s. Instead of taking Myrrh hostage and retreating behind her men, she released Myrrh and fought him fair-and-square.

Syrene’s proposal baffled him with its extremity. Sure, she and her personal squad of pegasus knights had to swoop to his rescue when reinforcements from the main army came along, but that wasn’t enough to make them want to execute her, right?

Why even bother sparing her life and taking her prisoner if you just want to kill her anyways?

“Hold, Syrene.” Ephraim’s voice was tinged with disapproval. “I do not approve of this idea. She is a good person, and I—”

“Prince Ephraim, she knew she was fighting a lost cause, yet she decided to throw not only herself, but all the men under her command into the jaws of death for it. She admitted that she attacked us in direct defiance of the crown prince’s orders. It was at her discretion that blood of Frelians and Gradoans alike soaks Za’albul Marsh. Can she be called a ‘good person’ for that?”

“But it’s the emperor who started the war! She fought for what she believed was his best interest. So why must we punish her?”

Vanessa, standing to Syrene’s left, rolled her eyes. “Captain Syrene,” she muttered, fully aware everyone present could hear her, “did His Majesty really assign him as the high commander of this operation?”

Tension grew in the air. Forde sucked air between his teeth, while Kyle’s expression lowered to a glower. Duessel remained silent, but his expression reflected his unease. Even Syrene’s normally-placid expression darkened at her sister’s words.

Ephraim looked between the Frelian sisters, anger rising in his voice. “What… What does that mean?”

“Vanessa, we will speak about your attitude later,” Syrene chided. Vanessa took two steps back to allow her sister to take the reins, who then heaved a sigh at the mess that lay before her. Syrene hung her head, gripping the edge of the table as if bracing herself.

Then she lifted her head to look Ephraim square in the eyes. “Perhaps I should be blunt. We Frelians recognize you as high commander because of King Hayden’s approval. You excel in combat with your strength and skill, and you have a grasp on military strategy, but… You have not gained our respect as a leader.”

Her explanation was met with silence. Ephraim’s mouth opened and closed as he struggled for words. “But aren’t those the things a commander needs? I don’t understand.”

Vanessa gave an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes again, while Duessel dragged his palm down his face as if to say Oh boy, here we go.

Syrene continued calmly. “They are. But you are no mere commander, Prince. You oversee not only this military operation, but the future of Renais—no, this entire continent . The people you lead need reassurance that you have what it takes to bring them home safely, to attain victory for our cause.

“Without this, morale will drop, and order will be lost. If the foot soldiers under your command don’t have faith that you have their best interests in mind, where will their loyalties lie instead? In their wages? In their own lives?”

“And what,” Ephraim interjected, “would make them believe I don’t have their best interests in mind?”

Her brows furrowed in frustration, but her tone remained even. “When Renais was invaded, you were at the border with Sirs Forde, Kyle, and Orson to inspect villages. You didn’t return to the capital; you didn’t await your father’s instructions; you didn’t defend the villages. Instead, you crossed into enemy territory without a single word, and the knights pursued you to ensure your safety. You could have organized the border militia and villagers to evacuate them, yet you did not take that chance—or you didn’t even see that as an option.”

Ephraim licked his dry lips and took a deep breath to calm the churning in his stomach. Memories of his return to Frelia surfaced, as the party traveled through the far western side of Renais to avoid detection.

They passed Ouzo, a village famous for its tapestries. As a child, he’d visited with Eirika, and still vividly remembered being awed by all the types of fabrics and dyes and equipment found in that small village. There were techniques known only to the villagers, and among their tapestries were stories of Renais’ history even their studies hadn’t taught them about.

All of it was lost now, reduced to ash and cinders. A displaced man from a neighboring town, which had been ransacked but not destroyed, recounted to them how the Grado troops spared not even a single child when a woman had dared to throw a rock at them in defiance.

“Well, what else did you expect,” he remarked upon seeing the silent horror on the twins’ faces. “What is a village to the Grado Empire? It was probably better that they were all slaughtered then and there. It spared them the fate of enslavement and torture.”

Would things have been different if he had stayed in Renais?

Seeing him mull over his thoughts, Syrene continued after a moment’s pause. “I heard that you launched an assault on Renvall to distract the Grado army. When it turned out to be a trap, you miraculously slipped out of General Valter’s grasp despite the odds. Am I correct?”

“Yes…” His response was non-committal, out of both an inkling that this was going nowhere good, and because his mind kept jumping back to her previous statement.

Rage flickered across Syrene’s normally-soft features and Ephraim flinched. She steadied herself with a deep breath before she spoke. “How much longer do you intend on flattering yourself?”

Without waiting for his response, she continued, “You honestly believed a standing army would be distracted by four people attacking a fortress deep in Grado territory? When it had no strategic value in the current situation? If you cannot hold the fortress and have no reinforcements, you’re just creating a death trap for yourself. You acted exactly as Grado wanted you to. The only reason you escaped was because of a lucky encounter.”

“Well, there was also Orson…”

“Speaking of Orson.” Ephraim regretted ever opening his mouth, increasingly aware that anything he said was only digging himself deeper. “Why was he doing patrols alone? As a party of four, wouldn’t it have made more sense to go in groups of two in case something happened? Even if Orson hadn’t been a traitor, it would have been easy to run awry of patrolling soldiers in enemy territory.”

“You’re—!” Kyle began to speak, indignation clear in his voice, but Forde cut him off with a hand.

After whispering something into his friend’s ear, the blonde knight cleared his throat. “Please let me defend our decision. What you described was our original plan. Orson was the one who vouched to go alone and persuaded us that defending the Prince took priority.”

“I will concede,” Syrene admitted, “that as a result, Orson didn’t give the enemy the chance to assassinate one of you two, but that was fortune on your side. Luck is hardly a reliable quality expected of a leader.”

Ephraim interjected. “And how was escaping an imperial general mere luck?”

“You wouldn’t be the first to be spared for the general’s own amusement. Didn’t you notice General Seth’s shoulder wound?”

Now that he thought about it, Seth had been fighting more defensively than usual when they sparred in Frelia after their return. Was it to hide his decreased agility?

“It was inflicted by Valter himself, who then let General Seth and Princess Eirika flee, or so General Seth believes. If that is the case, then there is a great possibility that Valter didn’t catch you—or let his men catch you—because he decided you were worth sparing. In other words, it was another lucky break for you.”

It felt a bit odd for him to admit, but Ephraim wasn’t all that surprised. Ever since the escape, there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that his clean getaway in enemy territory was too picturesque. Even so, having someone spell it out for him and hearing his suspicions confirmed out loud still felt like a punch to the stomach.

Syrene folded her arms. “Also, are you aware that King Fado sent a party of ten able Renaian soldiers to find and exfiltrate you?”

“Huh? Eirika’s group?”

“No. Trained Renaian soldiers, sent by your father. Eirika left to find you after his death during the fall of Renais Castle.”

“Uh, no, I didn’t know about that.”

“They were attacked en route to Grado by Selena’s forces. Only two soldiers escaped, and one died from his wounds before our troops found them in hiding. The remaining survivor is no longer psychologically fit for combat and has been brought to the Royal Frelian Hospital to recuperate.”

Ephraim bit his lip as she continued. “As the crown prince of Renais, did you ever think about how charging into Grado would reflect on not only yourself, but your entire family?”

Vanessa spoke up immediately after her sister. “Many Renaian refugees see you as a traitor to Renais. A sovereign who abandoned his country in its time of need for the country that invaded her.”

“But… I…”

Duessel clapped his hand once to snap everyone out of the suffocating mood in the room. “Captain Syrene. Prince Ephraim. I think this lecture will suffice for now. This war meeting has veered off its intended purpose.”

Syrene curtly nodded. “I apologize for getting carried away. Perhaps we should reconvene later to discuss this again once we’ve all cooled down. For now, the Frelian Army will stand by its decision to execute her in front of the capital. However… I am willing to listen if you believe you have found a more fitting punishment.”

Ephraim vacantly nodded, his mind still processing everything that had been thrown at him. His first instinct screamed at him to be angry, furious at how he’d been insulted and belittled. But the more he tried to justify his anger, the flimsier he realized his reasons had been.

“We’ve heard nothing from home, so what harm could a little reckless besieging cause?” , he’d confidently quipped at Renvall.

Stupid.

He’d been so stupid .

Of course he’d heard nothing from home. He was deep in enemy territory, avoiding villages to keep them out of the conflict. Who was he supposed to hear news about home from ?

“…Prince Ephraim?”

Ephraim blinked, just now processing that Forde was waving a hand in front of his face.

“Forde…?”

“Oh, look who returned to reality!” How was Forde smiling like nothing had happened? “C’mon, Prince. You’re pale as a sheet. What’s that dopey face for? This is far from the first time you’ve been lectured! It’s been a long day. You should rest up.”

Without letting Ephraim get a word in, Forde hauled him out of the tent, past gawping and curious stares, not stopping until they’d returned to his tent. Forde helped him out of his remaining armor wordlessly, and then gave him a stout pat of the back as he pushed him into the tent. Looking back in bewilderment, Ephraim saw Forde walk off towards Kyle, who had trailed them. It seemed like they had things to discuss on their own.

Ephraim dropped himself onto his cot dejectedly, unable to muster any energy. He couldn’t even feel any anger or resentment at the Frelian sisters’ words anymore; the more he thought about them, the more he realized how foolish he’d been. How ignorant he was. If Innes had been there to hear the lecture, he’d probably be laughing his butt off in vindication.

“Um… Ephraim?” Myrrh’s voice brought him out of his thoughts, and he slowly raised his head as she meekly entered his tent and stood in front of him. “I’m… I’m sorry…”

“Huh?”

“I stood outside of the tent, and I heard Dame Syrene get angry at you… If I hadn’t run away and gotten caught, she wouldn’t have been mad.”

“Oh, that.” Ephraim scratched his head awkwardly as he sat up to face her properly. “Uh… Don’t worry about it. Really. It’s probably better that she got mad now, and not when things were really at stake—Not that things aren’t already at stake, of course.”

“Is… is Dame Selena truly a bad person? Dame Syrene wanted to punish her for being evil, but I feel that she was simply… lost. Unsure of the future.”

Ephraim heaved a sigh. All this heavy thinking was too much for him. He’d never liked thinking through things, preferring to just flail around with lance in hand in the heat of the moment. But it was clear now that it was time for him to grow up.

“Uhh… How should I explain this… Here, Myrrh, sit down. This might get long.”

He patted the empty spot on his cot to his left and she plopped herself next to him, swinging her legs back and forth. Sometimes, it was hard to believe that she was a mythical being far older than him.

“Honestly? I don’t have an answer for you. When I fought her, I saw a knight devoted to her liege—willing to do everything and anything for him. That’s not a… bad thing, I guess. But she was so devoted, she was willing to fight to the death for his cause, even knowing that the Emperor is deranged.”

“But I don’t think devotion is evil…”

“It’s… uh… how do I say this. She spared villagers because they can’t fight, right? But what about soldiers who fought against them to protect their home? In the heat of battle, you can’t save everyone. You’re fighting against people who need to hurt you in order to win, so when the stakes are raised like that, people will inevitably die. But these people are fighting because you attacked them first. So who’s right and who’s wrong?”

“I… I guess the person that started it would be wrong…”

Ephraim nodded. “But if that person gives orders to other people, and those people do what they’re told because that’s their duty, does that make them any less wrong? There are people without fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles because she followed the emperor’s orders. To them, is she a good person?”

Myrrh fell silent, just as he had earlier.

“I’m sure many Gradoans think she’s a good person. A group of villagers at the marsh begged us to spare her because she saved them from bandit attacks before. But the world isn’t made up of pure good or pure evil. Good people can do bad things. Bad people can do good things.”

“So… will she be punished?”

“Mmh. Right now, the Frelian Army plans on executing her—killing her, that is, but Syrene told me she’ll consider another punishment if I come up with one. I think she doesn’t deserve to die but… I’m not sure how else to give the Frelians their justice. And… the Renaians, too.”

Myrrh gazed at the sunlight that entered the tent and bathed the floor in a golden glow. Slowly, she spoke. “It seems like… being a leader is hard.”

“Yeah.” Ephraim sighed, thoughts of failure clouding his mind as tears rose to the surface, threatening to spill over. “…It is.”

The manakete silently gathered the fabric from her robes and leaned over to wipe his eyes, having learned a bit more about human emotions.

As the sun began to set, Ephraim found himself gazing at the walls of the Grado capital in the horizon. It would be the last step in this long journey, or so he hoped—though his gut told him this was not the end.

The sound of footsteps behind him drew his attention away from the capital. Syrene descended the hill until she stood next to him. Her gaze was transfixed on the capital as well, and she spared not a glance towards him, though he was undoubtedly the reason why she was there.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Ephraim thought it would be in their best interest to ease some tensions. The earlier mess was the result of his actions, and if he wanted to change, he had to take the first step.

“Commander Syrene. I, uh… I need to say sorry for everything. I…”

He faltered, unsure how to express himself. Suddenly, he felt as weak and tiny as he had a few hours earlier during the war council. What if he didn’t say what he wanted to say right? What if she misinterpreted his intentions and lost even more faith in him? How was he supposed to put his feelings into words?

Syrene turned to him with a gentle smile and an understanding gaze, settling his fears some. “No, I should apologize, Prince Ephraim. I allowed my emotions to get the better of me as well.”

When his puzzled expression was all that answered her, she gave a wry smile as she continued. “Frelia has also undergone much loss because of this war… Some of it directly because of you.”

“I…”

“Because of our countries’ age-old alliance, we readily agreed to use some of our pegasus knights to gather intel and search for you when you went missing. They indeed found you—”

“And gave us some supplies, yes, I remember that.”

“—Yes, they did… But out of the seven members of the scouting party, only three of them made it back. And of them, one succumbed to her wounds despite our healers’ best efforts. Another’s pegasus died from a combination of injuries and exhaustion, so she can no longer fight until a replacement is trained.”

Ephraim’s nails dug into his palms so hard, he wouldn’t be surprised if they drew blood. A few months ago, when he snuck away from the confusion and slipped through Grado’s lines, all he could see was how triumphant his return would be, and how he’d show his dad how good of a fighter he was. How he had so much foresight to take down the empire while they were busy being distracted.

Now, in hindsight, he saw all the corpses he’d left in his wake.

Syrene gave a small gasp. “Oh dear, I came here to apologize, but I only ended up doing the exact thing I came to apologize for.”

Ephraim gave a meek nod in return, unsure how to reply. To assuage his fears, she continued.

“I know that you truly were unaware of the severity of your actions, and I can see the misguided logic behind your actions. Since you’re genuinely trying to apologize, I can see that you’ve taken my criticisms to heart. To be honest, losing my composure is a bit embarrassing. I have a reputation as the ‘lady commander’ to uphold, after all,” she giggled.

“No, I’m glad you did.” Ephraim breathed a sigh of relief, as if a portion of the weight had been lifted off him. “Back during my assault on Renvall, Forde questioned my sanity, but I justified myself out of pride. If it was him, or Kyle, or Sir Duessel, or even Eirika who told me about my faults, I might’ve just brushed them off as being overly protective. Vanessa was so straightforward that it wasn’t possible for me to misinterpret her.”

Syrene sighed. “That child… Her straightforward, proactive attitude is her greatest strength and her greatest weakness. I’ve tried getting her to loosen up to little avail…”

He chuckled lightly, then grew serious again. “Syrene?”

“Yes, Prince Ephraim?”

“…Just how badly does the Frelian Army think of me? I’m sure I’m a terrible comparison to Innes.”

Syrene’s giggle took him off guard and he turned towards her in confusion. “I must’ve made it sound like we all despised you, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Some people think your actions are not befitting your station, but others find it refreshing to have their leaders fight right beside them. Besides, few of us are comparing you to Innes to begin with.”

“Huh?”

“Innes, as our prince, already has a thorough understanding of the army’s workings. His fighting style—archery—has been developed to best work with our army’s structure; if we apply that logic to you, your preference for the spear developed out of Renais’ strengths. It makes sense that you would best understand our techniques by fighting alongside us in the heat of battle.”

Now that he thought about it, both Innes and King Hayden were expert archers. King Hayden rode a horse and had a sword, too. (When Ephraim asked why Innes only mastered the bow, the response he got was “I can ride a horse and wield a sword just fine. In battle, if I need to use a sword, then I didn’t do my job right to begin with.”)

“Speaking of, why are Innes and King Hayden both archers? It seems odd that the country with pegasus knights would have leaders specializing in taking them down.”

“Perhaps to someone unfamiliar with Frelia’s history, it would. However, it was not too long ago that the Carcinan Revolution ended with a treaty that allowed Carcino to split into a new country. Frelian historians attribute the revolutionaries’ victory to the fact that we lost the aerial supremacy we normally held—rogue pegasus-knights-turned-mercenaries evened out the playing field.”

Ephraim touched a hand to his chin. “So having a strong archery division, lead by the king, is to make sure that Frelia won’t lose in a battle over the skies?”

“That is precisely it. Innes also likes having intimate knowledge of the weapon most dangerous to our pegasus knights. He believes knowing the enemy is the strongest defense against them.”

“Can’t say he’s all talk. He drove off Grado’s initial assault to the west, which is no easy feat.”

“We’ve been prepared,” Syrene commented after a hesitant silence, “for a possible Grado assault long before they showed signs of aggression. And yet we lost our Sacred Stone and all the soldiers stationed in the Tower… It is truly regrettable.”

A solemn silence sat between them as they stared into the horizon, remembering all they had lost since the start of the war. As the sun dipped below the horizon, turning the sky a dark blue, Ephraim spoke. “I feel like… this won’t be the end.”

The corners of Syrene’s mouth turned upwards in a wry smile. “You too?”

“What makes you think the same way?”

“A woman’s intuition.”

Ephraim thought of that phrase as a girl’s escape route from explain things, but if he had to explain his own sensation, it came down to intuition anyways. Somehow, it was comforting to know he wasn’t the only one who felt this way. At the same time, having his fears validated was not at all comforting. He wasn’t even sure how he’d ask Vigarde all the questions he had, if the two met. Would the emperor even be able to answer through his madness?

“Syrene.”

“Yes, Prince Ephraim?”

“Let’s pay Selena a visit. I have questions to ask her.”

In lieu of a jail cell, Selena was being kept in a tent, bound by chains and magic-suppressing seals with four elite guards keeping watch. Alerted by the sound of footsteps and voices, Selena’s gaze was already fixed on the tent flap as the two stepped in.

“Selena.”

“Prince Ephraim.”

Ephraim considered her for a moment before speaking. “Did you really think what you were doing was the right thing to do?”

“It was not ‘right’, but it was ‘correct.’”

There was a beat of silence as Ephraim glanced to either side, face contorted in thought. “Aren’t those synonyms?”

“What I did under His Majesty’s orders were not the morally righteous thing to do. I will not deceive myself into believing what we did was right . But as a knight of Grado, I am sworn to fulfill my duty, and my duty is obeying His Majesty’s wishes.”

This answer was no different from what she told him earlier. Ephraim could not understand it, but decided that pursuing this topic of conversation was going to go nowhere. He understood people best by living side-by-side with them, not through philosophical banter.

“Next question. Do you understand what you are to the people of Grado?”

This time it was Selena’s turn to be confused. As she looked away, Ephraim answered his own question for her: “You’re their hope. Their shining star, their savior, their beloved general. You went from zero to hero. You smashed through the barriers of class, gender, and education to become one of the Imperial Three. There’s nobody on this continent who doesn’t know your name or your deeds.”

“And that’s why,” he finished, “I can’t let you die. Not here. Not now.”

A soft smile touched Selena’s lips. “You would show mercy to your enemy?”

“This isn’t mercy. This is a hundred times worse than dying valiantly for the Emperor. If you die now, you don’t need to reflect on all the lives you’ve claimed in vain. You don’t need to reflect on all the men who died pointlessly today.”

Bitterness reflected in Selena’s expression as she bit her lip. He hit the nail on the head.

It wasn’t like he suddenly became deep and philosophical, but it was a realization that had slowly made itself apparent to him over the course of the day. There were things you understood best through a no-holds-barred battle. During their duel, her attacks held a mixture of desperation and hesitation. They didn’t have the self-assured confidence her words had.

Attacking his forces against orders was probably her “escape route.” Her definition of loyalty stuck her into a locked room, but instead of using the keys to unlock the door, she was jumping out the window. If that was all there was to it, Ephraim had no right to judge her decision. But instead of letting anyone else take the keys, she pushed the other people locked in with her out the window before her. That was what he found most reprehensible of all.

But at the same time, how different was that from running off into Grado and dragging Kyle, Forde, and Orson with him? The reality was that any one of them—or all of them—could have died at any point. From a fatal wound. From an infected wound. From starvation. In the end, it was just good fortune that all of them (well, Orson betrayed them) made it this far. And not once had he ever seriously thought about all those factors.

“As the crown prince of Renais, did you ever think about how charging into Grado would reflect on not only yourself, but your entire family?”

Perhaps the one he was angriest at wasn’t Selena. It was the reflection of himself in her that he was angry at. Only a few months ago—no, perhaps just a few hours ago, he was fighting for superficial reasons. He fought for Renais’ freedom, he fought against the Grado Empire’s tyranny; but those were just platitudes. What did they mean to him ? Was he really fighting because he wanted to achieve those aims? Or were they just something to do so he wouldn’t have to face the things he dreaded most: Coming to grips with his father’s murder and his inevitable rise to the throne?

In the end, what was the difference between him, a prince escaping responsibility by throwing himself headlong into battle, and Selena, a general who couldn’t bring herself to break the shackles of loyalty?

Syrene, with all her womanly intuition, seemed to have understood this long ago. After all, she was the one who prevented him from fulfilling Selena’s wish for a duel to the death and instead had her captured alive. Perhaps this was her roundabout way of setting his course straight. And there was no reason why he couldn’t give someone else this same opportunity.

“You don’t mind, right, Syrene?” His voice was hushed, his tone serious.

From behind him, she replied. “I believe you have found a more fitting punishment. I have no complaints.”

With her approval, Ephraim turned to look Selena square in the eyes. Her eyes reflected resignation, but within them, he saw kindling waiting for a spark.

“Selena Fluorspar. Maybe others will say you don’t deserve to live, but I’ll tell you that you don’t deserve to die. I won’t force you to fight your countrymen, but you will live for all those who look up to you, and to atone for all the lives that have been lost because you.”

As Ephraim reached his hand out, the chains binding Selena’s arms behind her back fell slack. She stared from his hand to his eyes, gauging the determination burning behind his blue eyes.