Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ Fire Emblem Tellius Saga: Book 1 ❯ CHAPTER 18: THE COMMANDER ( Chapter 18 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

The subhumans had acquired a horse (whose saddle they stripped of Daein insignia), and atop it the princess waved before disappearing into the night. When she was gone, the weary mercenaries picked themselves up, and Greil led them to Gebal Castle. Although it was dark and the Gallian roads narrow, he seemed to know the route like the back of his hand.

When they finally arrived, the sky was starting to brighten. Everyone was thoroughly exhausted, and Greil wasted no time assigning each of them a room. If anyone was suspicious of his familiarity with a Gallian fort, they were too tired to ask about it.

They poured into the main hall, ready to stumble off to their assigned rooms, when the unexpected presence of an unhitched wagon and four sleepy horses gave them pause. A brief investigation revealed people sleeping in the beds the mercenaries longed to lie down in.

Fortunately they were human—no ears or tail to be seen. Still in their bedclothes, the people met with Greil, blearily explaining that they were merchants who’d fled Crimea. They’d been pursued by Daein soldiers and lost one of their members at the border. Now they were just squatting here trying to figure out what to do.

Soren’s mind was fading into a half-sleep even while he watched the exchange, and perhaps out of mutual exhaustion, both parties agreed to trust each other and cohabitate. There were plenty of rooms, and Greil saw everyone safely billeted. He also doublechecked that all the gates were barred before going to bed himself. Soren had a good view of the fort’s entrance from his room, and watching Greil in the dark, Soren wondered if those Daein generals would actually pursue them this far. 

Turning his attention to his current lodging, Soren used the last of his energy to inspect the room. The bureau and desk were empty save for a few sheets of old paper and plenty of dust. The wardrobe was also empty save for two bats that seemed to call it home. Shooing the creatures out the window, he decided to leave the shutters open. The room was musty, but the straw mattress was dry and not too moldy.

Lying down, Soren thought of the merchants and considered the possibility of their being Daein spies. But he was simply too tired to worry about it for long. He thought about Gebal Castle and tried to determine if it had been constructed by humans or subhumans. But again, this line of thought simply took too much effort.

Finally he thought about Greil, a man who was still a mystery to Soren despite their years together. The commander had been oddly subdued since escaping Daein’s grasp, and Soren wondered why. Between the invasion, the princess’s plight, and the mercenaries’ current predicament of being stuck in Gallia, he supposed there was plenty to keep Greil’s mind occupied. And yet that didn’t explain why his behavior had changed so suddenly after forcing General Petrine to flee and being saved by his beastly friends. Perhaps the knight in black armor had something to do with his preoccupation, but Soren couldn’t guess what. In the end, his mind gave out on him, and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

When he awoke, the sun was high and his body ached from head to toe. He considered rolling over and going back to sleep, but his stomach wouldn’t let him. He was starving, and even hardtack sounded delicious right now.

He dragged himself from the room, determined to find out where Titania had stored their supplies. His nose, however, let him to the mess hall, where four baskets were piled high with fresh fruit, vegetables, meat, and fish.

Greil was here, as well as Titania, Mist, Rolf, and a couple of the merchants they’d met last night. “Where did this come from?” he asked the mercenaries.

“Our laguz friends delivered it early this morning,” Greil answered, kicking out the chair across from him. “Take a seat.” He appeared his old self again.

Fillets of salmon were grilling over the coals in the room’s central, oven-like hearth, but no one was currently attending them, so Soren filled his plate and replaced what he’d taken with fresh pieces from the basket. Grabbing a handful of greens to augment his dish, he then took the seat Greil had offered.

The merchants sat at a separate table near the windows, which were open to the breeze. The day was already hot, and the fire smoldering in the hearth wasn’t helping. The pair had clearly helped themselves to the gifts of food, but they seemed disinclined to socialize with the mercenaries. Soren wondered if it bothered them that they were eating food delivered by subhuman hands. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with it himself, but his hunger easily won him over and he dug in.

Mist and Rolf soon finished their meals and bid farewell. They said they wanted to forage for mushrooms in the forest, and Greil told them not to go far. Not long after this, the merchants also left the room. For a few minutes, Titania and Greil chatted about yesterday’s battles, and Soren listened idly.

But then Greil said, in a voice that was obviously a dismissal, “Titania, I’d like to speak to Soren alone for a moment,” and Soren nearly dropped his fork in surprise. He didn’t know what Greil wanted to say, but he had a feeling it wasn’t good.

“Of course, Commander.” Trying to hide her affront at being dismissed, Titania stood with poise and strode from the hall.

They were alone now, and Soren found he was having a hard time meeting Greil’s eye. “What is it, sir?”

“Titania says you advised Ike against coming back for me and the others,” Greil began. “Is that right?”

“Yes,” Soren admitted. “At the time, I thought it the best course of action. Or, nonaction, as it were.”

Greil nodded. “But you stood by Ike when he chose to ignore your advice.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you didn’t try to stop him pursuing me and General Petrine?”

Soren hesitated and shook his head.

“Did you think that was the best course of action at the time?”

“No,” Soren answered honestly. “I knew there was a chance reinforcements were on their way… But arguing with Ike could have been a waste of time equal to simply going back for you.”

Greil’s mouth twitched as if he found this amusing. “Do you trust his judgement?” he asked, and his voice was serious again.

Soren was surprised by the question, but his answer was immediate: “Implicitly.” Then he rushed to explain: “He led us well yesterday, even if I may have disagreed with him at times.”

Greil nodded. “That’s good.”

Soren said nothing as he waited for whatever question might come next.

“You might have noticed,” Greil began again, “that since you’ve returned from Melior, I’ve been deferring to you for certain tactical advice.”

“I’ve noticed,” Soren answered simply.

“And you’ve probably been wondering why that is.”

“I have.”

Greil nodded again. “Well, you must’ve also noticed I’ve been giving Ike more responsibility. For me, training him to be a part of the company is the same as preparing him to lead it. When I’m gone, the Greil Mercenaries will be his.”

Soren said nothing. Perhaps he’d been wrong to assume Greil was back to normal.

“We’re at war now, and anything could happen. If I die, the company will go to Ike a lot sooner than expected.”

“We’ve escorted the princess safely to Gallia, sir,” Soren pointed out, hoping to distance himself from the uncomfortable things he was saying. “Soon our job will be over, and so there will be little to no occasion for such a thing to occur.”

Greil tilted his head to the side. “Maybe you’re right, but we can’t safely return to Crimea after this. Not right away. We’ve got to figure out a plan, and call it instinct, but I don’t think the fighting is over yet.”

Soren couldn’t deny he had the same doubts and fears. “That may be true.”

“Anyway, when Ike takes over, he’ll have the chance to dissolve everyone’s contracts and put the company to rest or take up the title of commander himself. If he chooses the latter, I’d like you to serve as his strategist. Be his right hand as Titania is to me,” he explained.

Soren could hardly understand what he was saying. “But sir, surely-”

“I know Titania will be a good aide for him too, but he’ll need both of you to make up for his inexperience and to keep him grounded. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, lad. I know you’d do well.”

“Thank you, sir” Soren stumbled through his words, “Of course… Of course I will serve the company any way I can.”

Greil seemed satisfied with this answer. He pulled a few sheets of paper out of his pocket and unfolded them. Soren soon recognized them as the contract he’d signed three years ago.

The last page, however, was new and written in fresh ink. Soren recognized Greil’s jagged handwriting. “I’ve added this addendum to your contract. Take it, read it, and if it all sounds good, sign it and return it to Rhys.”

Soren accepted the papers.

“I’ve signed it already, and there’s a pay increase in it for you considering this your training period now. If Ike signs it in the future, the increase doubles. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Greil nodded and leaned back slightly in his chair.

He wondered if there was more he wanted to say, but after a few moments of silence, Soren abandoned his unfinished plate and made to leave.

“Wait,” Greil called him back.

“Yes, sir?”

“One more thing…” He leaned forward again, but Soren didn’t sit down. He continued in a lowered voice. “I know I don’t have the right to ask this of you but… If Ike makes the wise decision and chooses to dissolve the mercenaries, I would like him and Mist to live here in Gallia where it’s safest for them. At that point, you would be free to go wherever you like…but I wonder if you would consider staying with them and watching over Ike for me. I know you have no love for Gallia and it can be hard for your kind to live among laguz, but-”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Soren cut him off. He’d already broken into a cold sweat, and he hated the power Greil’s words had over him. He continued in a rigid voice: “It would be difficult for any human to live among subhumans, and surely Ike and Mist would detest such a life. Let us hope you live for decades to come, so the mercenaries are not dissolved after all.”

Greil seemed disappointed, but not surprised, by Soren’s reaction. He nodded and leaned back again. “I thought that might be your answer.” He sighed deeply. “At any rate, you may want to choose your words carefully here. You should use the terms ‘beorc’ and ‘laguz’, as Titania and I do, rather than ‘human’ and ‘subhuman’, so not to upset our hosts.”

“I will take that into consideration, sir.” Soren left the mess hall with the revised contract in hand, and Greil didn’t try to stop him this time. On his way out, he passed Oscar, Boyd, and Gatrie, and he was glad the conversation hadn’t ended a moment later.   

“Ah, come in boys, take a seat,” came Greil’s greeting. “I was just about to go in for seconds.” He sounded like his old self, but now Soren knew better. He was pretending. Something was weighing on his mind so heavily he had to hide it from the others.

Titania surprised him, leaning against the wall next to the door to his room. “Soren,” she said, “Hello.”

“Hello again, Titania,” he offered cautiously.

“Did your meeting with the Commander go well?” she asked, obviously trying to sound casual, but Soren knew she was offended that Greil had excluded her.

“Yes, it did,” he half-lied. The promotion was an honor, even if the foreboding talk about Greil’s hypothetical death and his insinuations about Soren’s blood had been less pleasant.

“Would you mind-” Titania began, “Could you tell me…what you discussed?” 

Soren narrowed his eyes at her, wondering why she was being uncharacteristically vulnerable. “It was a private meeting between the Commander and myself. I’m sure if he had wanted you to know its details, he would have asked you to stay.” He was pushing her, trying to see how off-balance she really was.

She pulled her weight off the wall. “I only ask because I’m worried! Something’s wrong, I know it, but he won’t tell me anything.”

Soren waited several seconds, but she didn’t break. So he held up the papers. “He added an addendum to my contract, a wage increase.”

Titania instantly deflated. “Oh, is that all? He’s been mentioning it for a while—that he thought it was time to renegotiate your contract again. He was going to do it when you got back from Melior… If that was all, why not tell me?”

He lowered the papers. “I wouldn’t presume to know.”

“You’re sure there wasn’t anything else?” The anxiety in her voice was palpable.

“I am sorry to disappoint you,” Soren returned coolly.

Titania sighed and departed down the corridor.

When she was gone, Soren entered his room and laid the contract down on the desk. He sat and considered everything Greil had said. The commander had certainly given him plenty to think about. He couldn’t blame Titania for being worried. Something was wrong.

After signing the contract, he tracked down Rhys, who’d become the company’s unofficial records keeper since leaving the base. The sickly healer was resting in his room. To Soren’s surprise, Mia was waiting outside.

“Soren!” she greeted him in an excited whisper. She also seemed to be holding contract papers. “Are you here to see Rhys too? I think he’s sleeping…”

“So wake him up.” He knocked on the door and, not hearing a reply, opened it.

Rhys was lying on his bed, curled up in a ball, breathing softly. His orange hair was a slick mess on his forehead, and he looked even more feeble without his robes. The tops of his cheeks were red, and his skin was shiny.

“He has a fever again,” Soren noted unsympathetically, before snapping his fingers a couple times next to Rhys’s exposed ear. “Wake up.”

Mia entered hesitantly. “Hey!” she scolded. “If he’s sick, you shouldn’t-”

Rhys woke up with a start, and Soren backed away. Rhys moved himself into a sitting position, while Mia lunged to grab the mug of water off the bedside table and helped it into his hands. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Rhys nodded, although he looked queasy.

“He gets like this when participating in too many battles over a short a period of time,” Soren explained. He held out his contract. “The commander said to give this to you.”

Rhys seemed to take a moment to comprehend and then nodded, accepting the papers and setting them on the bed’s coverlet.

“Oh, mine too.” Mia placed hers on top of Soren’s.

“…So you’ll be joining us?” Rhys offered a friendly smile. “It’s been a while since we had a new recruit.”

“Glad to be part of the team!” Mia saluted proudly.

Although Soren had assumed that was why she was here, he was still surprised Greil had offered her a job. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t had interest—people came to their base presenting themselves as new hires. But Greil had always turned them away, saying they were at capacity. 

“What other changes has Greil been making?” He pinned Rhys with his gaze. “He just increased my wages to four shares. Is a share even worth anything anymore?”

Rhys sipped his water. “It’s probably worth more, actually. The Commander cut his own wage down to only one share.”

“Why would he do that?”

“He says he doesn’t need money, so long as the company’s needs are met.”

Soren considered this and frowned. The commander had never had a lavish lifestyle, but he would sometimes go out for a pint with Gatrie, or he’d buy new clothes for himself and his children, and sometimes little presents for Mist. Had he accrued enough savings he no longer needed a source of income? It almost seemed Greil wasn’t planning to live much longer, and that frightened Soren. He needed more information. “When did he do this?”

“When you returned from Melior.”

“You mean when war broke out with Daein…” Soren shook his head. “Anything else?”

Rhys hesitated but answered: “He’s made up paperwork that covers Mist and Rolf as wards of the company, so they’ll start getting a little stipend.”

“And what does Titania make of all this?”

Rhys seemed uncomfortable. “Maybe I’ve said too much already… Greil said not to speak of this until things settled down, not even to Titania.” Soren knew he wasn’t in the habit of keeping secrets from her, and his adherence to Greil’s order thus far was striking. “I-I’m sure the Commander is just thinking about the future.” His voice was resigned.

“Yes.” Soren agreed, although his heart wasn’t in it. “He would want to be prepared for any eventuality.”

After listening attentively this whole time, Mia finally found her voice. “What a generous guy!” she exclaimed. “I mean, I knew he was nice when he saved me from those Daein soldiers and gave me a job, but wow.” She shook her head as if lost for words.

As satisfied as he was going to be with this conversation, Soren left abruptly.

Mia lurched after him. “Good to meet you again, Rhys!” she called over her shoulder. “I hope you feel better soon!” To Soren’s annoyance, she seemed to be following him. When he took the next turn, she was right beside him.

“What do you want?”

“Ms. Titania said you were the most recent recruit next to me. Any advice for a rookie?” she asked.

“Don’t let Titania hear you call her ‘Ms. Titania’,” was his answer.

He hadn’t meant it as a joke, but she snorted with laughter. “Duly noted!”

Soren made another turn, just to see if he could get rid of her, but she remained at his side. “I don’t have any advice,” he said in annoyance. “Nobody is a ‘rookie’ here. You obviously know how to handle yourself in a fight, and you fared well enough in the last battle. Go make friends with one of the other mercenaries.”

Mia didn’t seem offended. “Why thank you,” she said, “You know, I come from a long line of master swordsmen. Everybody in Melior wanted a chance to study swordsmanship at our school, but we only took the best. That is, until the day-”

“I don’t want to hear your life story,” Soren cut her off. He picked up his pace, and this time, she let him go.

“Well, see you later then!” she called, still unbothered.

Soren cringed but kept walking. Her inane positivity would make her popular among the other mercenaries. She was going to fit in well here (much to Soren’s distaste). 

 

After getting his bearings in the unfamiliar fort, Soren sought the baths he’d heard were in the lower levels. Someone had already pumped several basins of water. There was a stone furnace to heat it, underneath which was already a starter of dry wood and kindling. While the fire heated up, he washed himself with the cold water, raising goosebumps on his skin. The hot water was for his travel-soiled and battle-stained clothes (which honestly needed it more).

While he worked, he continued to debate whether Gebal Castle was a human or subhuman construction. Everything was made of carved wood and stone, with very few metal pieces. Wooden plugs held beams together, and in some places the stones were fitted so snugly there didn’t seem to be any mortar. The entire place was clearly ancient and yet had withstood the centuries far better than the cliffside fort they’d fought in yesterday. Soren dared wonder if this was the difference between human and subhuman craftmanship and didn’t like what the question implied.

Whatever the fort’s origins, the flags flying outside were undeniably Gallian—bearing the symbol of a fighting lion, a crescent moon, and what appeared to be crawling daisies. They were in Gallia, and Soren imagined he smelled the sour odor of cats in every dank corner. Looking at the soap in his hand, he wondered why it had been here. Surely the subhumans preferred rolling around in the dirt over a real bath. But it was here, and it smelled of lavender. These wells and furnaces were here, and the amenities were nothing to sneeze at. And he was here too—playing the role of humble guest in a kingdom of animals. 

 

After drawing more water and setting the baths back the way he’d found them, Soren dressing in the only clothes he had left and set about sewing the holes in yesterday’s garments while they were still sopping. When he was finally able to hang them out to dry, he tracked down the ingredients he needed to make a binding paste and carefully inserted the new Fire spells into his tome. Setting this to dry as well, Soren stomach reminded him it was already past midday. Little chores like were always slow and burdensome the day after a battle. His mind and body felt sluggish.

 

The mess hall was even hotter than before. Oscar was stoking the hearth, in which he was roasting some of the meat and vegetables with his own seasonings, along with a small pot of mushrooms Mist and Rolf must have contributed. In another part of the hearth, he’d erected a house of bricks, which Soren knew meant he was baking bread or travelling biscuits. Soren’s stomach gurgled. Bread had been one of the items missing from the subhumans’ contribution (possibly because they didn’t cook or eat it themselves).

While helping himself to the food, Soren continued to contemplate his surroundings and everything that had happened. The mercenaries owed a bunch of subhumans for saving their lives. Their employer—a young, impressionable princess—had not paid them for protecting her and was now dozens of miles away (not that she’d had the means to pay them in the first place). King Ashnard had already declared his victory, and one of his top generals knew their faces. They could not easily return to Crimea, but that wasn’t the plan anyway. Once their subhuman babysitters arrived, they would travel deeper into Gallia and supposedly reunite with the princess, but for what purpose, Soren couldn’t see. To make matters worse, Greil was acting strangely—almost morbidly—as if he knew something he wasn’t telling anyone else.

“Soren!” Ike clapped him on the shoulder and pulled him from his thoughts. “You look so serious—what’s going on in that head of yours?”

Soren recovered from his surprise and replied indifferently: “I’m always serious,”

Ike smiled, and for a moment, Soren’s sense of imminent doom melted away. He allowed Ike to chatter at him for the next hour or so, and it was the most at ease he’d felt all day.

 

His anxieties returned in full force by evening. Greil had been dodging questions all day; he was acting strangely, and now everyone realized it. An ominous melancholy had fallen over the fort, and by dinnertime even the most upbeat in their group (namely Ike, Mia, Mist, and Rolf) had succumbed to it. The merchants, who’d begun to mingle among them at noon, now avoided the mercenaries as if they had a plague.

Soren turned in early, and although he was still tired, he couldn’t sleep. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling and listening to tiny sounds echoing in the old stone halls. Eventually a faint light illuminated his window, and he abandoned all effort to sleep. Moving a chair to the window, he sat and crossed his arms over the sill. Someone had opened the castle doors, and candlelight from the main hall was spilling into the bailey. Standing in the glow was Greil, who seemed to be taking in the night air.

After a few moments, Ike ran out after him, coming to a sharp stop when he saw his father hadn’t gone far. They spoke briefly, but Soren couldn’t hear a word. Then they unbarred the main gate in the curtain wall, passed the outworks, and walked until the forest swallowed them. They bore no torches or lanterns, and Soren didn’t fathom where in Tellius they could be going.

He remained at his window, watching the light of the full moon come and go between the rain clouds. The minutes ticked by. A quarter-hour. A half-hour. But still they had not returned. Soren slipped on his boots and was about to investigate, when he saw a stir of motion in the dark. He trained his eyes on the spot and saw only Ike returning. His gait was slow and despondent, but eventually he made it back in the bailey. His hand was on the gate door when he suddenly stopped. He stood frozen for several seconds, and then twisted around, dashing back into the night.

Soren knew something bad had happened, or was happening, or was about to happen, and although he didn’t know what, he decided to alert Titania. Seizing his satchel and newly repaired tome, he ran to her room and pounded on the door until. She emerged a moment later with sleep in her eyes. Her red hair, which was usually in a long braid, was a massive tangle. “Whaah?” she groaned. “Are we under attack?” She glanced around with heavy-lidded eyes.

“No, but the commander and Ike went out a while ago and have not returned.”

Titania grew suddenly alert. “But Commander Greil told no one to leave the castle. Where would he go without consulting me first?” Throwing the door open, she ran back into her room, grabbed a cord from her bedpost, and began roping her mane into a more manageable ponytail. Still in her bedclothes, she grabbed her poleaxe, its harness, and her riding boots. She was finishing the laces when a loud roar echoed in the distance. Titania froze, her eyes wide. “We must wake the others! We have to find them!”

At the thought of Ike being torn apart by subhuman beasts, Soren was overwhelmed with the impulse to run off on his own. But he knew Titania was right about waking the others, so he did as she ordered. Everyone was filled with the same urgency. They grabbed only footwear, weapons, and torches. The merchants peeked out of their rooms, frightened by the commotion, but none of the mercenaries had time to explain.

The sky had opened up by the time they exploded past the curtain wall, but no one complained about the heavy rain. “Fan out in pairs!” Titania ordered. “Find them!”

But her instructions were unnecessary. As soon as they passed the outworks, they stumbled to a halt. Ike struggling toward them at the edge of the forest. He was limping, lopsided, and doubled under the weight of Greil’s body. For a moment, the mercenaries could only stare. Then everyone started shouting at the same time:

“Greil!” cried Titania.

“Commander!” came a chorus of voices.

“Boss!” yelped Shinon.

“Father! Brother!” came Mist’s shriek of fear.

“Ike!” came the scream from Soren’s own throat, against his will.

He was running with everyone else. Titania and Oscar leapt off their horses, which continued to run in circles, eyes wide and chest heaving as they caught the panic. As he got closer, Soren could see both father and son were leaving a trail of blood in their wake, and Greil’s knees and feet were carving ruts in the mud. Every few steps, Ike staggered and nearly dropped him. His face was ashen from blood loss, and his eyes were glazed over as if he couldn’t see any of them.

But perhaps he did sense that he could finally stop, that his friends would help him from here—or perhaps his strength just gave out. He collapsed into the mud just as Titania’s hands found Greil’s head and shoulder.

Most of his weight fell on Ike, and Soren immediately plunged his hands under his friend’s armpits to pull him out. Gatrie and Oscar were helping too, and Titania and Shinon turned Greil over so the two bodies were free of each other. Rhys stood by, trembling and wringing his Heal staff between his hands.

Soren checked Ike’s pulse: faint, but still there. His eyelids fluttered, and he muttered almost inaudibly: “A little longer… Stay a little longer…”

Titania was checking Greil’s pulse, and tears welled in her eyes. “I can’t- I can’t,” she was saying, approaching his neck from various angles. There was a massive wound in his stomach, and his guts threatened to spill if they pulled him in the wrong direction. Soren didn’t see how he could be alive.

“Rhys, heal him now!” Titania ordered.

This jerked Rhys into action. He fell upon Greil’s body, feeling his head and his neck, pressing his ear to his heart. “He’s dead…” came his feeble words.

“Just try!” Titania demanded.

Rhys obeyed, leveling his staff over the wound. Soren had seen him do this countless times in battle, and his hands had always been steady. But now they shook uncontrollably. “*Heal*,” he commanded, but there was no green light. “It-it won’t work,” he said after a few futile seconds. “It won’t work. He’s gone…”

“Then heal Ike,” Soren spoke up, his voice low and cold. “Before he joins the commander.”

Rhys nodded weakly and adjusted his potion so he was now leaning over Ike’s body. “*Heal*,” he breathed, bending his head and staff as in in prayer. The green light spread over him this time, and the worst of Ike’s wounds began to close.

Only then did Soren look around and see Mist kneeling in the dirt, her forehead on the ground. Her loose hair was clenched in both fists, and her back was arched as if in pain. Her mouth was open, and she appeared to be screaming although she was hardly making a sound. Tears, snot, and saliva oozed from her face into the dirt.

“Boyd, get Mist out of here!” Titania ordered suddenly. “She doesn’t have to see this!” Boyd happened to be standing next to her, staring in dismay. Titania’s harsh order snapped him into action, and soon he was helping Mist up, murmuring encouragingly. He lifted her as if carrying a child, her weight apparently nothing to him in this moment. Freeing one hand, he took Rolf’s, and the three proceeded inside.

“Gatrie, Mia, get Ike inside! Rhys, stay with him. Soren, get a blanket for the Commander,” Titania continued. “Shinon keep a look out! Oscar, help me calm the horses.”

Soren hated leaving Ike behind, but he understood they’d need to wrap Greil if they wanted to move his body without leaving his intestines behind. He rushed back into the main hall, where he passed Rolf and Mist sobbing and rocking together. Boyd sat beside them, pressing his palms against his face.

Soren ran into the nearest room, which happened to belong to one of the merchants. Luckily she was awake, standing in the doorway with a pink shawl wrapped around her head and shoulders. “What happened?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

Soren didn’t answer, merely grabbing the coverlet from her bed and running back out. In the main hall he saw Gatrie and Mia carrying Ike’s unconscious body. They lowered him to the floor while Rhys urged them to be careful. Mist released Rolf and scrambled to her brother’s side.

As much as Soren wanted to do the same, he had a job to do. Soon he was outside again, running to where Titania was stroking Greil’s hair. Oscar was standing with the horses’ leads in his hand, and Shinon had an arrow pointed into the woods. “Here, here.” Titania took the blanket and wrapped it tenderly around Greil’s body. Soren helped by holding one end. She wrapped him twice and then snapped her fingers at Oscar, who unhitched his mare’s reins to use as binding. 

Oscar and Titania tried to get Greil onto her stallion’s back, and Soren could only watch them struggle. But then Gatrie and Boyd reappeared, and between the four of them, it was an easy task. The commander’s eyes had been closed before, but with all the commotion, they’d begun to open slightly. Half-lidded, they stared unseeing. Oscar led the horses while Titania kept a hand on Greil’s leg. The solemn procession began its march into the castle.

Soren forced his legs to move too, but it was hard. He suddenly felt the mud was sucking as his feet. He was no stranger to corpses, but this shook him. Those marble eyes belonged to Sileas, to Gorgov, to the children in the street whom Greil had slaughtered. But now they were in Griel’s own eye sockets. It seemed incomprehensible.

Once inside, Soren saw Ike under Rhys and Mist’s care, and he felt a little better. Ike had survived; that was what mattered. His entire body felt numb at the mere thought of losing his friend.

 

For several hours, they held a vigil. But exhaustion tugged at them, and they slouched and leaned where they sat, trying to stay awake. Eventually Titania told everyone to rest. Rhys gave an herb mixture to Mist to help her sleep, and he put a bit in Ike’s mouth, so he wouldn’t wake too soon. Oscar carried Rolf to bed. Gatrie and Mia helped get Ike to Mist’s room, so neither would be alone when they woke. Shinon went to his own room after first saying to Gatrie: “A word when you’re done.” Gatrie had grunted as if he understood.

The merchants emerged again, and they helped Boyd and Titania barricade the gates, lock the castle’s entrance, and draw the siege shutters on all the windows. Although there hadn’t been a peep from the forest, the mercenaries were no fools. Someone or something had killed Greil, and whoever or whatever it was, it was still out there. 

Greil’s body was left wrapped with an additional blanket in a corner of the main hall. The horses kept their distance as if they could smell death. Soren eventually returned to his own room and fell into a fitful sleep.

 

He awoke early, and his first thought was if Ike was awake and if he’d yet spoken. The castle was quiet, but Soren knew he wouldn’t be the only one awake. He first checked the main hall, where Greil’s body was a shadow in the corner. Ignoring the horses that approached him looking for breakfast, he went to the mess hall, where he found Titania, Rhys, Boyd, and most importantly, Ike. There was food between him and Titania, and her hand was still on the table as if she’d just offered it to him. But his head was bowed, and he wasn’t eating.

No one was saying anything. Soren walked around to sit beside Boyd and get a glimpse of Ike’s face, but no one acknowledged his presence. They just stared at the boy as if waiting for something. Finally, he spoke: “The Black Knight killed him.”

“The Black Knight? That Daein soldier who called for retreat at the ruins? Who is he? Why did he return? Was there a battalion with him? How did you escape?” Titania’s questions came in a rush, and Ike didn’t seem to register a single one.

They were not the right questions anyway. “What message does he have for us?” Soren asked simply. “And if there is no message, why did he leave you alive?” Titania glared as if she resented the question (or maybe his tone). Ike didn’t answer, but his eyes did flicker to life for a moment. Silence lay heavy over the group. Soren hated this.

Eventually Titania sighed. “Take your time, Ike,” she said, although she didn’t seem to mean it. “You should just focus on recovering. Eat this.” She pushed the plate closer. Ike didn’t even look at it.

Soren couldn’t endure the silence or Ike’s pain. He grabbed a piece of fruit and left. He didn’t have much appetite either, but he ate it and tossed the core out the window when he reached his room. Then he set about packing his bag.

This didn’t take long, so he sifted through the company’s supplies until he had what he needed for the short journey back to Crimea. Only when he was back in his room, staring at his neatly packed bag, did he truly realize what he was doing.

He was leaving again. When Sileas had died, he’d left. When Elena had died, he’d left. When the priests had died, he’d left. Now Greil was dead, and another chapter of his life was inevitably coming to a close. His fear of the unknown outweighed his grief for the commander, and while the others mourned, Soren felt out of place.

He had been avoiding other mercenaries all morning, while silently going about his preparations. Therefore he was surprised when Titania knocked on his open door. Her eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and puffy from crying. Her skin looked dry, and her hair unkempt. Her arms were crossed, but her shoulders weak. She didn’t look like herself at all. “Ike and the others have chosen a place for Greil’s grave. They’re digging now,” she said hollowly. “The merchants had a shovel we could borrow. The spot is really lovely… There’s a nice view from the cliff. Mist chose it, and-”

“You’re rambling,” Soren observed.

Titania shook her head. “Everyone else is busy. Come with me to the place where Greil was struck down by the Black Knight. We need to collect Urvan and Ike’s blade… And I’d like to see the scene of Greil’s death for myself.”

Soren nodded hesitantly. He was curious too, but he was also reluctant to wander into the Gallian wilderness, where either subhumans or Daein soldiers might still be lurking.

“Let’s go then.” Titania turned as if Soren should come immediately. He quickly collected his tome and wondered if she’d seen his packed bag and knew his intentions. Then again, he doubted she would care.

Ike now had the choice to lead the mercenaries or disband them. But no matter which he chose (if he was even capable of choosing in his current emotional and mental state), Soren knew in his heart it was time to move on again. If Ike did choose to preserve the company, Soren could never accept the officer position Greil had proposed only yesterday. At the time, he’d expected many years to pass before he would have to fill such a role. But now—with Greil gone, Ike in mourning, and war around them—Soren could see no place for himself among the mercenaries.

Wrapped in his thoughts, Soren barely noticed when they passed the spot where Ike had emerged from the woods last night. But there were still red-brown stains in the drying mud, and these caught his eye. Now he paid attention to the trail Ike had left, which was easy enough to follow. Titania walked ahead and said nothing.

Eventually they came to a small clearing with a fallen log and a view of the sky. Sunlight was pouring down, illuminating the scene of the fight. Last night’s heavy rain had washed away most of the footprints and blood, but the evidence was clear enough.

Titania hefted Greil’s mighty poleaxe. Although Soren didn’t know the weapon’s story, he knew it carried a name: Urvan. And he knew enough about weaponry to know it was an old, very well-made weapon. Titania gazed at the now-pitted blades of the double axe heads as if she could read them.

Soren scanned the ground until he saw the hilt of Ike’s sword submerged in drying mud. He retrieved it only to find it had been cleaved in two. The other half of the blade was stuck in the dirt several feet away. Even though the weapon was now useless, he retrieved the other half, leaving the smaller shards wherever they were embedded in the rain-washed ground. There were fresh footprints here, and Soren recognized them as Ike’s. He must have come back this morning. (and Soren mentally reprimanded whoever had left him unchaperoned). “Are we done here?” he asked Titania.

She was still looking around as if lost. There was no sign of the Black Knight, and it was impossible to know which way he’d gone (though, Soren suspected north, back to Crimea and his troops). Neither was there any indication why he’d come to kill Greil only to spare Ike.

“Tell me again what you saw last night,” Titania said, finally tearing her eyes away and heading back.

Soren walked abreast with her now. “The commander left the fort first,” he reported, “and Ike ran after him. They conversed briefly before setting into the trees together. Later, Ike returned on his own. But he then appeared to change his mind, or perhaps he heard something. Either way, he ran back to Greil. That is when I woke you.”

“And why did you not think to wake me sooner—when the Commander left with Ike despite his orders that no one leave the fort?” Titania gripped Greil’s poleaxe tight to her chest, while her own was slung across her back.

“Because they were indeed the commander’s orders,” Soren replied coolly. “And he was well within his authority to exempt himself.”

Titania had no response. They walked in silence, and when they arrived at the fort, she took a small trail southeast rather than entering it. Soren dumped the broken sword at the base of the outworks and followed her. As expected, she was heading toward the gravesite.

The trees gave way to a small cliff, beyond which was a sweeping view of a lake surrounded by mountains. This region was rockier and far less forested than the land they’d just trekked through. A mound of soil had been raised just before the rocky portion of the cliff, and the rest of the mercenaries were staring at the spot. Mist clutched a woven crown of daisies in her hands.

They parted to let Titania through. With a loud cry and an enormous swing, she struck the packed earth just beyond the mound, and Urvan’s blade bit deep. Tugging to make sure the axe was wedged firmly in place, Titania then stepped back to examine her makeshift grave marker.

None of the mercenaries had reacted to her violent shriek, but now a few bowed their heads. Mist strayed forward hesitantly, as if she might lose her way. When she reached Urvan’s long handle, she slipped her loop of flowers down so it rested on the axe head. Then she stepped back, and Titania took her hand.

Mia, Rolf, Rhys, and Oscar all laid their own wildflowers around the axe, and only when they were moving did Soren finally get a good look at Ike. He was standing like a statue, starring into the middle distance.

Not knowing what to do, Soren debated leaving now, but he didn’t want to miss any important conversation about the mercenaries’ future. So he stayed and endured the grief-stricken silence. Eventually, Titania suggested they each tell the story of how they’d met Greil and come to join company.

The mercenaries complied unenthusiastically. When it was Soren’s turn, he merely said, “Commander Greil gave me a job and a place to stay when I needed one,” and did not elaborate. Most of the others’ stories were the same, so no one questioned it.

Everyone else included a ‘thank you’ in their testimonies, but Soren didn’t see the point in thanking someone who couldn’t hear him. The others seemed to be addressing the axe or the mound of dirt, but these things were not Greil. Greil was gone; pretending to talk to him was foolishness.

And perhaps the rest of mercenaries understood this, because after the testimonies (given by all except Ike and Mist), silence fell again. This time, Titania didn’t attempt to break it. Minutes ticked by, and eventually Shinon and Gatrie were the first to leave. Then Oscar hefted Rolf onto his back and also departed. Mia apologized and left, followed by Rhys. Boyd said something about getting back to his brothers and disappeared. Finally Soren had to admit Ike wasn’t going to say anything to anyone yet, so he left too. Back at the fort, he saw Titania returning just after he’d reached his room. Hours passed, but Ike and Mist didn’t reappear.