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Clouds march across the sky that in what feels only a short while ago had been so sunny. The field is half-shaded over the bodies of their enemies and Marth’s own wounded allies. Blood is everywhere. Vibrantly red under the sunlight across the grass like trails of molten ruby, or black as pitch beneath the clouds. The air feels like a storm coming.
Marth pauses longer than usual, gauging the potential in the air with the creep up his spine. Then he has things to hurry to, the after-battle tending and regathering. One in particular worries him. But he is only partly through his tasks before the sky breaks open in a spectacular way; like the clouds, the downpour of rain neatly bisects the field. They watch and set up tents as the wind picks up, growing louder until it is right on top of them. By then they’ve scattered into shelter. He takes care which he chooses.
It’s not bad enough out to distract him. The ground readily swallows the rain and he hears no thunder. He wonders where the blood washes off to, and the corpses just out of sight of their narrow flap.
Right now he is where he wants to be, as he shakes out the few raindrops he’d been splattered with out of his hair. During battle he notices much, on the enemy’s side and his own. That’s merely the flow and turn of keeping track of where to move, what to do, what orders to give next. But lately, and in this latest skirmish particularly, he’d noticed something concerning.
One of them has been disobeying orders. A little too forward, in front of the hardier warriors, a little too eager to chase down a retreating foe back to the enemy lines. Until now he’s kept quiet on the matter; he’d been able to make up for these lapses in judgment, and he has an idea of what is causing it. Once, after all, he had been in a similar state of mind.
So they sit together, knees drawn up, and he says, “You’ve been reckless lately. I was wondering if it was intentional or not.”
Etzel’s laugh is friendly enough, but a quick pang of emotion shows itself on his face. “As much as I’d like to say I have no idea what you mean… but I don’t think it’s something I intend… as such.”
“Sometimes, it does seem like it would be easier to join their side. When I think of my father my blood runs hot with vengeance, but then I’d give anything to see him smile at me again.”
“Exactly.” His smile is more honest. Slightly rueful. “I know she’d want me to live on. And I do want to do honor to that. I don’t think of getting myself killed while I fight, but I suppose there must be something… driving me in the back of my mind.”
Yes. The impulse remains, even if you don’t act on it. Little by little it sneaks up on you when there’s an opportunity. “It’s not just your wife who’d be disappointed to see you so early.”
Outside, a cloud moves in just the right way, letting the sun’s golden rays light a thin beam through the sky, across the cleansed grass. He wishes he had comfort that pretty, that meaningful.
Etzel gently claps his shoulder. His eyes squeeze tightly together as he looks at him, softened with affection. “Ah, my new friends are a great anchor to me, as well.”
They lean in, shoulder to shoulder until the rain stops.