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Seeing his old classmates live up their promise had given him the boost he needed. Claude von Reigan, once the house leader of long gone Golden Deer house braced on his wyvern. He glanced at his surroundings. He could see Lorenz and Ignatz to his left flank, staving off some mercenaries. In their time together, he was Ignatz’s confidence grow. He was surprised when the professor assigned him to be an assassin. Sweet, tender Ignatz could not have it in him. Claude was wrong. Ignatz was swift, calculating. Every step he took, he knew how to roll away from the swing of an enemy’s sword and attack back with deathly sharp blow of his own. Beside him, Lorenz who sat tall and proud on his horse. Lorenz held a spear in hand and had it angled and positioned to attack the on-coming mercenary. With a flick of his wrist, Lorenz guided the horse back, jumping out of the way. In an instant, his arm jabbed forward, slashing his opponent across the chest. Claude notices Lorenz is far more clever. He is smarter, less prone to champion his pride and leap in like hero; instead choosing wait, like a warrior in battle. In the distance, he could hear Leonie and Hilda holding their own. The two girls were the toughest girls he knew. Leonie, tougher than nails with the heart of gold. She was skilled, well-practiced and a jack of all trades. Still she was a master of the bow and horse. He remembered her goal to be a bow knight, to increase her range as a trained mercenary. Hilda, small, but despite her claims, not delicate. Underneath that tough exterior, Claude knew was an innate strength. He had seen her wield the heaviest of axes. In many battles, she could take a fully forged tomahawk, throw it at a distant enemy and take them down in one single throw. Despite her claims of weakness, he knew was a girl strong.
Claude clicks his heels into the wyvern. His partner raises its arms. The webbing of wings pushing against the air, weightlessly carrying him off the ground. He moves forward and to his right some paces. He knows to be careful. Who knows how many archers are hiding in the town ruins. He does not want his partner injured due to his own impatience. The wyvern suddenly jolts them to the side. Before he lands, an assassin bolts from shadows. He barely misses, but Claude knows where one is, more are hiding, waiting. The bandits must be protecting their keep. He knows considering how many more have appeared, likely hiding and guarding carious treasures. He makes not of the doors that have been shit and sealed. Ignatz and Lorenz are unlikely to catch up any time soon, and Hilda and Leonie were all the way across the ruins. The professor, he could see, was tied up with their own swarm of bandits closing in.
“If they’re fighting, I gotta go help!” Claude hears a familiar baritone voice shout. He shifts his sight and sees another old friend. Raphael stands in a readied position. Knees bent, prepared to launch forward with power, arms up and his steel gauntlets equipped already to crush his way through the enemy. From his right, a figure dressed in purple runs past him to stand on his left.
“Wow, it’s you!” Lysithea calls out loud, “I thought you were dead this whole time!” She must be referring to the professor.
For just a moment Claude’s heart drops. He knows there is one more missing. She had always been quiet. Unwilling to battle, not out of sloth, but insecurity. She believed herself to be a curse, but she was invaluable. One of the most talented healers of their year. From the bushes, another figure emerges. Claude feels his chest cave, he’s not sure why. It must be due to excitement of a whole reunion. Marianne von Edmund does not shout. He’s not even sure if she says anything. But he is relieved to see her appear. He hadn’t any time to keep in touch with his old classmates, and so he was not sure where any of them had been. Of all of them, Marianne the most dubious. Hilda was the only daughter of Duke Goneril, he was sure she was well taken care of. Lorenz, he often saw accompanying Count Gloucester at round table meetings. He had heard of the large, muscled knight who would travel around the alliance, aiding the hungry and helpless. Ignatz had a healthy family to return to, and he knew Lysithea cared deeply for her parents and returned to ensure their safety. But Marianne was not an heir. From what he heard, she was more a prop for Margrave Edmund, to marry off and increase his influence. Would she return? She had little regard for her life, often prepared to be discarded. He often saw Margrave Edmund at round table meetings. While Duke Goneril and Count Ordelia often spoke of their daughters, Margrave Edmund had not once uttered a thing about Marianne.
But now seeing her standing tall, he felt a sort of relief. “Hey, you’re late!” He shouts over to them. The three of them turn their heads to him, fierce looks of determination and new found hope apparent on all their faces. “Hurry up and help!” Claude string an arrow, unleashing it at the assassin closest to him. Before the assassin can recover, Claude pulls the reigns and guides his Wyvern to perch atop the ruins. He sees Raphael bound forward, past Marianne. The large man pulls back a fist, and launches it at the large pile of rubble. The rocks collapsed leaving an opening. Lysithea now steps forward. With a wave her hand, a casting circle appears in front of her and cloud of poisonous vapours pools in front of it. Another wave of her hand and the pool goes careening forward instantly poisoning and killing the bandit who was preparing to attack Raphael. Lysithea is too quick to let her guard down, and from a hidden corridor another bandit leaps out prepared to thrust a sword at Raphael. The band jumps down from rubble, but is stopped by a forming pillar of ice grasping his ankles. The ice travels up his body, his screams enveloped in the glacial coffin. As it shatters around him the bandit chokes out a breathless gurgle. Behind Raphael and Lysithea, Marianne stands with an outstretched arm with a casting circle surround it. She glares are the lifeless body that was about to attack her friends. An impressed smirk tugs at Claude’s lips. Of course, it would be far more ideal to have as few casualties as possible, but he had to admit this show of strength has him blow away.
What had Marianne been up to all these months. Before he gets lost in his thoughts, he refocuses on the battle he was currently engaged in. Now fueled from his reunion with the professor and the arrival of his classmates; encouraged by a kept promise made long ago, Claude von Reigan’s determination to finish this battle grows. More than that, his resolve to win this war is strengthened and solidified. With his friends, he will see it through until the end.
The halls of the monastery echo with silence. The entrance hall once filled with joyous laughter of reunited friends quiets. Claude makes his way to the cathedral. Not one who practices the faith, he finds it is a good place to quiet his mind. As he enters, he sees a long figure standing at the base of the rubble. He approaches quietly, not wanting to startle the usually skittish girl. He stops just beside her. “You are not one to pray.” She turns her head to him. “I highly doubt you are here to admire the rubble”
“Ah, guilty as charged. And I don’t mind appreciating the look of old ghosts.”
“Hm. Old ghosts.” She repeats quietly.
“How have you been all these years?” He asks, his arms raise and cross behind his head, which he leans into his intertwined fingers.
She is quiet at first. What happened to girl who ran side by side her friends in battle, courageously risking herself to ensure the safety and healing of her comrades. In his youth, he would ask again, set on getting her to answer any and all his questions. In his youth, he would ignore her obvious discomfort and he would push until he reached her limits. Now he has grown a little bit wiser and respects that she may not be ready to share where she has been or what she has doing. Though he hopes the years treated her well, he understands that she is entitled to her own secrets, just as he is entitled to his.
Marianne shifts her weight from one leg to another. She dips her head down as her hands come together, finger intertwining, in front of her chest. She smiles. She has always been one to pray at any given moment. “I am thankful.” She speaks.
“Hm?”
“I thank the goddess that everyone made it back. Everyone has remained safe and unscathed all these years.”
“Hm.” Claude mumbles. “Yeah, I’m grateful, too.”
“To the goddess?”
“To…” Claude trails off. He doesn’t believe much in the goddess, and if there is one she has not been portrayed to be the most benevolent of beings. He does not believe much in spirits or pre-determination. He believes everyone creates their own destiny. Each individual is the master of their own journey. Still, he is also happy that his classmates returned. Each one healthy, everyone in one piece. He’s grateful that the girl who once believed herself to be a waste of resources and a waste of a unit, was now here by his side. Fought alongside her friends, used her skills and her faith to protect and heal those who were in tight spots. Yes, he was very thankful. “… to whoever is listening to you.”
Marianne turns away, hiding a small smile on her face, while Claude – also smiling – looks up towards the shattered stain glass.