Chapter Text
Ashe was a man on a mission. He strode through the forest purposefully, focused and alert. He was hunting, and his eyes were peeled for any sign of his elusive prey. As he emerged from the narrow footpath he traversed into a shadowy glade, he grinned triumphantly.
At last! At the sight of his quarry his adrenaline spiked, and he pounced without hesitation.
“Gotcha!” he exclaimed, gleefully extracting the largest in a patch of squat brown mushrooms from the cool, damp earth at the base of a large tree. Still smiling, he picked the rest of the mushrooms before sitting back on his haunches to peer around the small clearing for more. Unfortunately, no other mushrooms could be spotted but Ashe’s disappointment was somewhat alleviated as he appreciated the beauty of the spot he had stumbled upon. While lush foliage bordered the glade and it was for the most part covered in the same speckled shade as the rest of the dense forest, a small patch of sun in the center of the clearing warmed a number of large boulders and glinted off of the shallow stream running next to them.
It appeared to Ashe to be the perfect place for a nap. While Ashe wasn’t often one for napping, he had woken extra early that morning to set out on his hunt. Mushrooms were hard to spot in the shadowy woods, and he was tired from maintaining his focus for so long. He glanced at the basket he had brought with him and, seeing that it was now nearly full, he determined he was entitled to a bit of rest before heading back to the city. He covered the basket with a cloth, unslung the quiver from his back and carefully placed his bow next to it. While wild game was rare this close to the forest’s edge, Ashe always brought his bow with him on the off chance he got lucky. With that, he lay back on the flattest of the rocks, closed his eyes, and within moments was lulled to sleep by the warmth of the morning sun and the soothing sound of the wind moving through the trees.
Waking with a start, Ashe rolled from the rock, snatching his quiver and bow and nocking an arrow as he moved quickly into the cover provided by the greenery surrounding the glade. Panting softly, Ashe peered around wide-eyed and listened intently for signs of danger. His reaction was one of instinct, and as he crouched in the darkness he attempted to ascertain if it was warranted or merely triggered by the sounds of the forest. For a few moments there was nothing but silence, and Ashe immediately knew that something unusual had indeed disturbed his sleep, as silence in the forest was anything but natural. No birds chirped, no creatures stirred in the undergrowth and then – the unmistakable sound of steel upon steel in the distance. A fight then. Ashe sprang to his feet and bounded silently through the woods to investigate.
As the sounds of battle drew near, Ashe scaled a tree in order to survey the action. After finding a branch sturdy enough to perch on, Ashe looked down at the scene below and was surprised to see flashes of the royal guard’s bright blue flashing between the somber greys and greens of the opposing force. Ashe had assumed that he would encounter either a squabble between bandits (in which case he would have left them to it) or an attack on one of the many merchants who often passed through Kyphon Forest, sprawling between Fhirdiad and Fraldarius territory (in which case he would have intervened). Seeing the royal guard here was a surprise. There had been several raids recently on villages around the city’s outskirts, which were outside city’s walls but were still technically part of its jurisdiction. Ashe supposed they may have been sent to quash or at least deter further attacks.
Unsurprisingly, the elite royal force seemed to be having no issues handling what was a rather small troupe of bandits. Ashe noted that attempts were being made to disarm and detain, rather than harm, the thieves, and that most of them had already been captured. As Ashe watched the few remaining rebels cast down their weapons he prepared to climb back down the tree. His help here was clearly not required, and all things considered he would like very much to avoid attracting the attention of the authorities himself. As he moved to a lower branch a flash of light caught his eye. From his new vantage point he could see the guards rounding up the last of the bandits, herding those who could walk into a wagon while a healer tended to the few who had been injured. He could also see what the guards couldn’t – behind a rocky outcropping a second wave of bandits was lying in wait, weapons ready and glinting in the sun, prepared to strike once the guards’ defenses were lowered. A dark mage looked to be their leader, crouching atop the ledge and holding one hand out behind him, signaling them to hold their position.
Groaning in resignation, Ashe scrambled back to his original post and nocked an arrow. The mage was staring intently at the commander of the guards, who had just removed his helm. With a start, Ashe recognized the distinct white hair and gleaming armour known to all citizens of Fhirdiad. It was the king’s right hand, Dedue Molinaro. The mage lifted his arms towards Dedue, and Ashe saw the beginnings of a dark spell form in the air while the true force of the bandits prepared to strike. While Ashe was no tactician, he knew that the knights would likely be overrun if taken unawares, and that Dedue’s shining armor would do little to protect him against dark magic. Resolved, he sighed as he took aim and let his arrow fly.
Though Ashe may not have been a tactician, he was an excellent marksman, and his arrow struck true. The mage’s spell dispersed, and with a strangled cry he tumbled forward over the rocks, landing dead before the guards. There was a beat of silence, as both guards and bandits paused in shock. The moment of peace was short-lived however, as the well-trained royal soldiers quickly readied themselves for attack. The bandits, while clearly unsettled by losing the element of surprise, managed to rally and rushed the guards in force. Ashe let a few more arrows fly, this time aiming to disarm rather than kill. Within moments, the second wave of attackers crumbled under the coordinated and efficient defense of the guards. As the soldiers pressed forward to detain the last of the outlaws, Ashe hastened to retreat. While he believed he was still well hidden in his position, he had seen the tall commander glance in his direction as the fighting settled and he was determined to avoid entanglements with any sort of law enforcement on principle, even if he had been good enough to help them out today.
Dedue surveyed the scene before him. Half a dozen or so of the bandits had been killed in the skirmish, including the dark mage. Many more were currently being loaded into wagons headed for the dungeons of Fhirdiad by his men. Dedue frowned. While the number of raids along Fhirdiad’s outskirts had increased in recent months, there had been no indication that anything other than typical bandit activity was afoot. The kingdom was prospering, and the pockets of both nobles and commoners were full as trade across Fódlan was open in ways it had never been before the war with the empire. Some enterprising individuals had evidently seen this prosperity as an invitation, and it was assumed that the raids were no more than common thieves looking to claim their dubious share of success. Dedue turned over the body of the mage, which lay twisted at an awkward angle thanks to its tumble from the rocks above. This ambush had been something else, something more than the usual careless assault of highway robbers. The attack had been well planned, organized, and strangest of all, pre-meditated. Looking back, Dedue was sure that the first wave of bandits had surrendered easily in order to lull his battalion into a false sense of security so that the second wave could overtake them with the ambush.
They may well have succeeded too, if not for…
Dedue knelt next to the body of the mage and inspected the arrow protruding from his right eye. A remarkable shot. The wooden arrow was plain enough, but it’s fletching was distinct and rather unusual – two grey feathers, and one blue. He glanced over his shoulder, staring intently into the forest behind him. His men had been unable to find any trace of the mysterious archer who had aided them. Dedue himself had tried to spot them as the battle drew to a close but he had seen nothing except a distant flash of silver and blue, retreating through the trees.