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Minerva clutched Hauteclare, her sister’s naive words rebounding in her head as she rode into battle atop her wyvern.
“You will try to save Brother, right? Now that you’ve saved me, there’s nothing stopping him from joining us!”
Minerva knew, deep down, that Michalis would not change his mind. After all, he was the one that volunteered Maria to be locked up in Castle Deil, a hostage to temper Minerva’s fury and rebellion. “Minerva will follow your orders once Maria’s life is on the line.”
And damn it, he was right. Once Minerva knew her little sister would be punished for every disobeyed order, she did everything she was told to, no more, no less. Every time Hauteclare was turned upon its country’s blood, she felt Iote look down upon her, his frown growing ever larger.
But that was at an end.
Marth’s orders were clear and concise. She was to fly over the walls with the pegasi and focus on eliminating the commander, with Norne, Gordin, and Jeorge shooting any archer who pointed their bow in the air. Marth knew full well who the Macedonian commander was, and knew just as well the words Maria had said. He also knew of Michalis’s tactical ability, and that every second the battle lasted against Macedon’s elite soldiers, the chances that the League would fall grew larger and larger.
And Marth knew this is what Minerva wanted. It was time for her to save Macedon from Dolhr’s tyranny, and it was time Hauteclare was used to fell “the second coming of Iote”.
“You will try to save Brother, right? Now that you’ve saved me, there’s nothing stopping him from joining us!”
Even if her own blood hated her for it.