Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ Fire Emblem Tellius Saga: Book 1 ❯ CHAPTER 24: BEORC ( Chapter 24 )

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

They avoided main roads and cut cross-country whenever they could. They kept most of their weapons and armor hidden in the wagons, and the laguz wore long cloaks with deep hoods to hide their ears and tails. When they needed to resupply in town, they sent only small parties, unarmed and in plainclothes.

During these excursions, Soren always touched base with Volke, who could be found in every town they entered. Soren was not mystified by this. Rather, it seemed the man was merely averse to camping. He took the main roads and slept comfortably at inns in the towns the mercenaries avoided. Each time they met, Soren would use some of the funds Caineghis had given them to pay Volke for information he’d been able to gather about the occupation.

He was unsurprised by the tactics Volke described. Ashnard had declared victory early, and since then, he’d been solidifying his conquest by destroying any potential opposition. Here on the far edge of Crimea, the mercenaries were relatively safe from the roving armies, but they couldn’t afford to be careless.

Perhaps due to this caution, they arrived at their destination without a fight.

 

“Well, we’re here! Welcome to Toha, Crimea’s westernmost port city,” Ranulf announced, spreading his arms wide. He seemed familiar with the area, and Soren wondered if he may have been one of Gallia’s ambassadors during Ramon’s glory days of integration.

In addition to being the westernmost port, Toha was also the southernmost harbor in Crimea, and virtually the farthest away from Daein. The mercenaries were surprised by how calmly the townsfolk went about their daily lives, but Soren was not. There was not a Daein soldier in sight, and not a mention of one to be heard. Ashnard had secured his victory so fast, he hadn’t needed to bring violence this far from Melior. Why should these townspeople fret about their dead monarchs, their decimated armies, or the murder, imprisonment, and capitulation of their fellow citizens? Until the occupation forces arrived, it was surely easier to pretend nothing was wrong.

Given orders not to attract undue attention and not to wander off alone, the mercenaries were allowed to explore the town. Most were given tasks, such as re-shoeing the horses, purchasing provisions, repairing weapons and armor, or procuring a steed for Kieran (who was supposedly useless on foot). But Soren remained with Ike and Ranulf as they made their way down the main street.

“What’s up with this place?” Ike shook his head in disbelief. “The people are going about their business. Why aren’t they worried about Daein? About the war?”

“It’s because this area is fairly isolated,” Ranulf explained with a sigh. “Daein’s army hasn’t come this far, and so life goes on as before. Daein’s plan is to seize the capital, then slowly and steadily expand its sphere of influence until it controls everything.”

“Surely these people have some idea of what’s happening,” Ike pressed.

“Ignorance is a form of bliss, is it not?’ Soren explained bitterly. “These people don’t know what it’s like to lose a war. They don’t want to know. Crimea as a nation has always been blessed by peace. Perhaps this is due to the temperament of its rulers, but the country hasn’t seen serious warfare for centuries. While minor skirmishes with Daein have been legion, only the eastern borderlands have taken damage.”

Ike grew suddenly morose. “And yet even I know this peace won’t last. When we met Daein forces on our scouting mission, they attacked us just for being within the Crimean border.”

And for carrying weapons, Soren added mentally. But Ike was right. “Humans are shameless creatures that carelessly ignore any misfortune that does not befall them directly.” Soren intentionally avoided the term ‘beorc’ here, as he’d learned from Lethe that ‘human’ was as much an insult as ‘subhuman’, having come to represent the beorc’s apathy and depravity in equal measure. “They can—and often do—turn a blind eye to all manner of wickedness so long as it does not touch them or their kin. They will bow their heads, condemning those victims for bringing calamity upon themselves.” He continued in a cold voice: “And then they will cast their eyes toward heaven in thanks while their neighbors lay dying around them.”

“But the war is happening here.” Ike rubbed a fist across his check as if distressed. “This is their home, not someone else’s.”

“When the Daein army darkens their doorsteps, perhaps they will understand. When the peace they take for granted is shattered, and their sons and daughters slaughtered in the streets…” Soren saw Ike’s face and stopped there. “Perhaps then they will comprehend the misfortunes they long pretended not to see. I have no sympathy for them.” Finding his hands starting to tremble, Soren turned abruptly and walked in a different direction.

He stopped behind the wall of a nearby and attempted to calm his mind. He had no idea where that sudden burst of ice-cold rage had come from. Unfortunately, he overheard Ranulf’s comment at his departure: “My goodness, the nastier the truth, the blunter he gets,” he said, “Quite a delightful staff officer you have there.”

Then he heard Ike’s reply: “He, um…he has an undeniable streak of severity in him, but…but this? Something’s bothering him, that’s for sure.” Soren peeked around the corner and saw Titania approach the pair. Not wanting to hear any more, he walked out of earshot. He always avoided thinking about what others might say about him behind his back, and he didn’t want to start worrying about it now.

 

After walking around the port a while, Soren wandered into a tavern and asked the barkeep for a firearm, as he’d become accustomed to doing. Then he ordered a coffee and sat at a corner table waiting for Volke. To pass the time he listened to the conversations of the tavern’s other occupants. It didn’t take long to determine that most belonged to some sort of gang. The group was comprised of young men and women who wore garish, barbarian-style clothes. They were all armed with viscous-looking weapons with serrated blades. But Soren kept his hood up, and they ignored him.

Volke finally arrived, sliding into the seat across from him. “What news?” Soren asked.

“Gold first.”

He sighed and passed a couple coins across the table. Volke’s asking price for rumors was far more reasonable than his price for locks.

“Dracoknights flew into the city five days ago looking for a band of Crimean resistors harboring a political fugitive. Flew north and made their camp nearby. Later joined by infantry and cavalry regiments. They’re monitoring the coast and have a finger in the harbormasters.”

“I see.” Soren nodded. “The sooner we’re gone the better. You will be sure to board the ship with the rest of us?”

“If that’s where the gold wants me to go,” Volke replied.

Soren slid him a few more coins. “What can you tell me about our company here.”

Volke glanced around and lowered his voice even further. “Local vigilantes. Considered heroes for shutting down a smuggling trade the Royal Knight couldn’t do anything about. Strong family values and anti-laguz sentiments.”

“Anything else?”

He just shrugged.

Soren stood and left the tavern. When he was on the street he glanced through the window and saw no sign of Volke inside. Rounding the corner, he kept his eyes peeled for fellow mercenaries. As he walked, he was glad to see they were all trying to stay in small groups and remain inconspicuous.

But a little while later, Soren encountered a ridiculous scene. Kieran was arguing with a small band of street performers, declaring loudly that the baton juggler was “doing it all wrong.” The ex-knight then pulled the batons out of the man’s hands and, with all bravado and little brain, set about showing the juggler a few sloppy tricks.

The display was attracting a bigger crowd than the juggler could had conjured on his own. It may have been amusing for the public, but the mercenaries were supposed to be keeping a low profile. Soren glared at Kieran, but he didn’t seem to notice. Mia and Oscar were among the crowd, looking both anxious and embarrassed. Soren slipped toward them and began speaking in hushed tones:

“Stop him. He is drawing too much attention, not to mention he’s making an idiot of himself. You two go talk to him as if he is a drunkard and not in his right mind. Escort him away as if his friends. Hopefully he will have the sense to play along.” He felt strange giving orders like this, but no one else was going to.

“You’re right,” Mia sighed. “Smart plan. Let’s go, Oscar.”

The pair pushed through the crowd. Oscar threw up his hands and began apologizing to the people. “Okay, okay. I think that’s enough. I’m sorry everyone. C’mon, Kieran. I think you’ve had more than enough to drink today. It’s hot. How about you come with us?”

Kieran peered at Oscar incredulously. “I haven’t had a drop! What are you talking about? A knight on duty would never permit a savory beverage pass his lips!”

Oscar shook his head wearily and glanced at Mia. “He’s completely delusional again.”

Mia finished picking up the scattered batons, returning them to the juggler. “Not again,” she sighed, putting her hands on her hips. “Come along, Kieran. Let’s get you a cool towel.”

“Lies!” Kieran cried indignantly, but then he froze and seemed to come to a realization. He scowled at Oscar. “My old rival! Hahaha, don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing? Don’t think you can mess with my head so easily! When next we fight, I will be the one messing with your mind! Mwahaha.”

“Yes, that’s all very nice,” Mia patronized. She began pushing Kieran away. He allowed himself be led but made gestures at Oscar all the while: repeatedly pointing at his eyes and then to Oscar, mouthing the words ‘I’ve got my eyes on you’ and grinning belligerently. When it was over, the crowd dispersed, and the harassed juggler went to find a different spot.

Soren walked on, trying to banish the ridiculous event from his memory, but he was so distracted, he almost didn’t notice Ilyana lying supine on the side of the road. When he did notice her, he glanced both ways in confusion. There were a few people around, but no one seemed to see her. Hesitantly, he approached and knelt down. She was still breathing and didn’t seem wounded. Someone snickered behind him. He twisted around, but the villager who’d made the noise whipped his head back and returned to the conversation he’d been having with a vendor.

“Ilyana?” Soren asked tentatively.

“Augh,” she groaned. Her big lavender eyes opened slightly. “So…weak.” He waited for a further explanation. “So…hungry.” Her stomach gurgled to emphasize words. Soren stood quickly. Ilyana made another weak noise and let her head fall back.

“You’re hungry? That is why you’re always lying around? That is why you always act so sickly all the time?” he demanded. Some of the townspeople snorted with restrained laughter. Soren rounded on them.

“Hey, sorry kid,” one person laughed, “Should’ve told you, but the girl’s ‘opeless. She’s been there ‘alf the day. Suckered a lot of people into sharing the bread from their mornin’ shopping. Just scarfs it down an’ keeps lying there. Quite an appetite for such a tiny thing.”

Ilyana didn’t react to the implied accusation. She just raised her neck and repeated faintly: “So hungry.”

Soren shook his head. “Get up.”

Ilyana opened her eyes and raised her arms. She waited, and Soren realized she expected him to help her. Rolling his eyes, he did his best to heave her onto her feet. Despite being called ‘tiny’ by the townsperson, she was still taller than him, and this was no easy task. 

She brushed some of the dirt out of her hair. “Thank you.”

Soren sighed. “Let’s find some of the others. Obviously you can’t be left alone without falling over.”

Ilyana didn’t try to deny it.

 

The mages made their way back to the town center where Rhys, Ike, and Elincia stood under an awning. Most of the other mercenaries were scattered nearby. Soren dropped Ilyana on Mist without a word and approached Ike. He and Elincia were laughing. Apparently the odd one out, Rhys stepped away from the two lovebirds. He met Soren halfway.

“The wagons and supplies are all loaded, and the merchants boarded ahead of us,” he reported. “We expect we’ll be departing soon, so we’ve starting getting everyone together.”

A shadow of worry darkened Elincia’s face. “My lord Ike! There’s a crowd gathering at the town entrance…” Soren turned around, and his heart fell. Daein soldiers were marching through the city gates.

“That’s-” Ike was cut off by a soldier blowing a trumpet and beginning an announcement:

“Attention citizens! We’ve received reports of Crimea army stragglers hiding in this town! From this point forth, the Daein army will blockade all points of entry! No one comes or goes without our leave! The harbor is also closed! No ships will be allowed to sail!”

Ike swore under his breath. Titania suddenly appeared in the alleyway behind them. “Ike!” she panted. “Daein troops have-”

“I know,” he sighed. He pointed over his shoulder, trying to act casual. “All we can do is move toward the docks and try not to be discovered.”

“Have you seen Ranulf?” Titania asked tensely.

“Not yet,” he said, but at his words, Ranulf’s heavily cloaked body rounded the turn onto their road. He glanced around furtively. “Wait, here he comes now.” Ike waved and called in a loud whisper, “Ranulf! Over here.”

He hurried toward them. “Hoo!” he breathed. “Things sure are heating up, aren’t they?”

Ike nodded. “How are things on your end?”

“Everything’s set. All you need to do is sneak down to the harbor.”

Soren nearly winced. “Because stealth has always worked so well for us in the past.”

Ranulf continued: “You’ll be met there by a man with a dusky pallor. His name is Nasir. You can trust him. I’ve explained your situation, and he’s willing to help. If you can reach his ship safely, he’ll take care of everything and deliver you to Begnion.”

Something seemed to occur to Ike. “Ranulf, aren’t you coming too?”

“I was planning on it, but Daein’s movements have me concerned.” He drew his together eyebrows over his mismatched eyes. “I’ll stay behind and see what’s going on.”

Ike seemed disappointed but nodded. Just then, Soren noticed a young woman walking briskly down the street. She kept looking behind her as if afraid she was being followed. She was heading right for them but wasn’t watching where she was going. Soren didn’t have time to warn the others before she plowed into Ranulf. The force of her stride left them both on the ground.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” the woman exclaimed as Ranulf helped her up.

“Damn,” Soren hissed. Ranulf’s hood had fallen back

“I wasn’t watching where I was-” She froze when she realized to whom she was speaking. Ranulf’s ears and markings were fully exposed.

“No, pardon me,” Ranulf began, not yet noticing the danger.

The woman unfroze, yelping and leaping backward. “A su-subhuman!”

Every villager within earshot turned toward the accusation, staring at Ranulf as if dumbfounded. Rhys fell back with Elincia firmly attached to his arm. It seemed they were trying to disappear into the nearest alley. Soren, Ike, and Titania remained, blocking view of their escape. Marcia abandoned her pegasus’s reins and ran to join them. Nephenee sprinted over from the opposite side. Meanwhile the villagers had drawn into a mob, and the Daein soldiers surely noticed.

“Blast!” Ranulf cursed.

At first, the mob acted in fear. “I-it’s true!” One man exclaimed, “A subhuman! How dare you come prowling around here!” But at his words, fear gave way to hate. The force of their shared rage emboldened them.

“Beast!” A young man shoved Ranulf so roughly he backpedaled into the middle of the street. Ranulf kept his arms plastered to his sides. He didn’t change form. He did nothing to stop his attacker. “Y’stinking subhumans need to learn yer place! Human towns are too good for ya!”

A young woman pushed Ranulf in the back. He fell to one knee but stood again. “Eww!” the woman squealed. “It’s so hairy! Go on! Scat!”

Soren thought this was idiotic, because, apart from their ears and tail, laguz were no more or less hairy than beorc when in their human shapes. Everyone should have been able to see that with their own eyes.

The crowd continued to push and pull Ranulf, dragging him farther away. Still he did nothing. Someone threw a rotten plum, which splattered across the back of his head. This was apparently the last straw for Ike.

“Dang it!” he spat and lunged forward, but it was too late. The mob closed in front of him, and Ranulf was lost from view. They were a frothing sea of hatred now. Ike gripped the hilt of his sword, and Soren wondered if he would cut down civilians to save his feline friend (and if so, if he should stop him). He hadn’t reached an answer before Lethe and Mordecai intervened. The big man grasped Ike’s shoulder. “Mordecai!” he exclaimed in surprise.

“Ike, we must leave,” he rumbled. 

“What? No! We have to help Ranulf.”

“This noise, it brings Daein troops,” Mordecai reasoned.

“That’s why we have to hurry up and-”

“He’ll be fine!” Lethe hissed. “Leave him.”

“Ranulf is strong,” Mordecai assured, “even stronger than me. It’s alright.”

The laguz’s consoling seemed to be working. Ike had released the grip on his sword, and his shoulders sagged. Soren turned his attention back to the mob. He could not see much, but through the gaps in the moving townsfolk, he caught a glimpse of the trumpet-wielding Daein approaching. He was flanked by two knights, but he didn’t appear concerned with the rabble. In fact, he seemed slightly pleased. 

While Soren watched the soldiers, Ike was trying to catch sight of Ranulf again. “Ranulf has no intention of defending himself!” he cried out. “Look, he’s not even changing form! I can’t just stand by and watch as he gets murdered!” Without another word, he tore himself out of Mordecai’s fingers and charged into the crowd.

“Ike! Wait!” called Mordecai.

“Idiot human,” muttered Lethe (but she was wearing a crooked smile).

“Stop! Get out my way! Keep your hands off him!” came Ike’s voice amid the rabble

The other mercenaries followed his lead, but Soren intercepted Marcia before she could charge. Pointing to the alley where Rhys and the princess were hiding, he ordered her: “Take Elincia to the ship before Daein makes their move.” Again, it felt odd to give orders, but Soren took comfort in the fact that he knew he was right. He was the only one thinking reasonably here. “Don’t fly or the dracoknights will see you.”

Marcia hesitated but then nodded and turned around. Seizing her pegasus’s reins, she soon disappeared.

Titania had mounted her horse and taken the lead to support Ike. Nephenee was marching right behind her, and Lethe and Mordecai slipped into the crowd, both holding their hoods closed tight in their hands. Soren followed, making his way easily Mordecai’s wake.

When they reached Ike, they made a circle around Ranulf’s body. Brom and Boyd entered the crowd from the opposite direction and joined them. Soren stood next to Ike, who was being yelled at by a teenager his age. “Who da ya think ya are?” the teen demanded. “Why would a human want to protect some subhuman?” Ike didn’t answer, instead turning so he could kneel over Ranulf. He was unconscious but, Soren assumed, still breathing.

“He’s a friend to this monster. I saw them talking earlier!” cried a proud tattletale. She threw another soft fruit, which splattered against Ike’s back.

He stood and rounded on her. “What’s it to you?”

“Hey, the Crimean royals had subhumans companions, didn’t they? Maybe you’re one of those army guys the Daein troops are searching for!” the teenager called out. The townspeople nodded and murmured their assent. A few were trying to get a better look at Lethe and Mordecai. Suspicion distorted their faces.

Oscar, Kieran, and Mia pushed into the crowd. Both Oscar and Kieran were mounted, and people made way for the horses. Neither were wearing their brightly-colored armor, but all three were carrying weapons, which was damning enough. People started whispering that the boy must be right.

But they were also intimidated, and the mob started to unravel. The passively watching trumpeter was more visible now, and Soren saw his expression twist in glee. Instead of attacking outright, however, he flicked his cloak, and he and his guards returned to the main force.

A townsperson yelled after them: “You there, Daein soldiers! Ho! Come back! There’s some suspicious folk over here!”

Soren was disappointed but not surprised. The Greil Mercenaries hadn’t even had a chance to make a stealthy escape.

Realizing the soldiers would advance any moment, the remaining townsfolk scattered like ants—ants who called encouragement to their enemy. Ike grabbed one by the collar. “Are you mad? Your king was murdered by Daein! And now you’re going to cooperate with them?”

“Well, um…” The man scrambled to get out of Ike’s grasp. His gaze darted from the mercenaries, to the rapidly thinning crowd, to the soldiers pouring through the city gate, and finally to the dracoknights appearing in the sky. His eyes were those of a frightened animal.

The teenager from before came to his rescue. He swung a broom at Ike, who easily avoided the blow, releasing the man as he stepped back. The boy was flanked by three friends who hadn’t yet run. “I heard the king was teamin’ up with those subhumans!” he shouted, “That’s what got him killed!”

“Yeah! That’s right!” agreed a girl beside him. “If we need allies. I’ll take the flesh-and-blood Daein humans over some fanged subhuman freak!”

“Yeah! At least we know what we’re getting! Trust in our own kind!” the boy cried out.

Ike was shaking with rage, but he turned away, calling over his shoulder. “You people are insane!”

Eyeing the approaching soldiers, the young civilians finally fled. Ranulf was semi-conscious now and standing with Mordecai’s help. His face was bruised and swollen, and blood dribbled out of his mouth. Soren glanced around and saw Rolf and Ilyana peeking around the corner of a leather shop. Mist and Rhys were nearby as well, each with staves in hand.

Now he returned his attention to the soldiers, who’d divided into four squadrons. One took the northern streets, one the southern streets, and one was marching straight for them. The dracoknights, which comprised the fourth unit, remained floating where they were. “The soldiers are coming,” Soren whispered urgently. “We’d better make a run for the docks.”

Ike nodded, although he was obviously still distracted by his rage. “I know. This way.” He jogged to the nearest side street with the throng of mercenaries uniting behind him. Ranulf limped swiftly alongside his vassal. Most of the mercenaries were here, but Marcia and Elincia were nowhere to be seen, which was a good sign.

The mercenaries turned onto another street, but Ike pulled to a quick stop when he found their way barred. Everyone practically skidded on their boots, but continuing would have meant impaling themselves on five long, jagged spearheads.

The vigilantes from the tavern were assembled in all their barbaric finery.  

“Where’s the subhuman everyone’s screaming about?” the leader demanded. His helmet was molded to resemble a tiger skull.

“Huzzah!” cheered an old man from the window of a storefront beside them. “The Toha Vigilantes are here! Grab those guys and turn them over to the Daein army! That will prove our allegiance and gain our village favor!”

Soren lobbed a quick fireball at the shop, and the man ducked for cover. The windowsill smoldered for a few moments until Soren extinguished it. (He didn’t think Ike would approve of setting civilian buildings on fire).

The vigilante leader laughed. “If you want subhumans hunted down, I’m your man!” His eyes were pinned on Ranulf and Mordecai, whose hoods hung down their backs.

“This way!” Ike called, pushing the group back the way they’d come. Titania directed them down another side street, and this time their way was unblocked. The vigilantes pursued.

“Split up!” Ike ordered, and Titania led half the mercenaries in a different direction. Soren stayed with Ike and the laguz.

“Ike,” Ranulf groaned.

Ike slowed his pace to speak with him. “Ranulf! Are you all right?”

“Why did you come back?”

“Because some fool was going to lay there and get beaten to death instead of defending himself!” Ike said with an impassioned glower.

“Ah, Ike. What would you have me do? Gallia and Crimea are allies. I cannot jeopardize that by harming these people, no matter what ill they bear me.”

Soren was surprised by his restraint. He was starting to think Ranulf was one of the rare laguz like Caineghis who were more intelligent and civilized than the rest of their brethren.

Ike, however, didn’t seem to understand the prudence of Ranulf’s nonaction. “Even if none of them care two figs for their own country?”

“Even if.” Ranulf shook his head. “They’re citizens of Crimea after all.”

Just then, they heard the hoots and haws of vigilantes coming down another street. Apparently their company had split to head off the mercenaries. It was a good plan.

“I’ll lead them away!” Oscar whispered loudly, slowing his horse so that he lingered at the end of the street.

Ike nodded and kept running. He gripped his sword hilt and gritted his teeth. “Well I’m not Gallian,” he told Ranulf, “so there’s no reason for me to hold anything back!”

“Ike! Listen to me!” He tried to pull his weight off Mordecai but stumbled. “They think that you and I are allies! If you attack, it’s no different than if I do so myself. So…”

“Let me guess.” Ike glanced over his shoulder, but neither Oscar nor the vigilantes were behind them. “You’re telling me to avoid the Daein pursuit, leave the vigilantes alone, get to the docks as soon as possible, find the man named Nasir, and get everyone on his boat. Is that it?”

“Exactly!” Ranulf smiled despite the bruises on his face. “I don’t care what anyone else says, I think you’re pretty bright!”

“Alright, I’ll play along.” Ike ignored the insult. “But mark my words, if they attack, heads will roll!”

“What? Hey! That’s not going to do us any good!”

But Ike wouldn’t hear another word. He kicked in the door of a gardening supply store and ushered the others inside: Soren, Lethe, Ranulf and Mordecai, Ilyana, Mia, and Boyd.

“Soren!” Ike turned to him. “We need to get everyone together!”

“Waiting for everyone will cost us time, of which we have precious little,” he countered. “We should make for the docks now. Those who make it will continue on to Begnion. Those who do not-”

“We’re not leaving anyone behind,” Ike growled.

Soren snapped his mouth shut.

“Uh,” Mia raised her hand to get their attention, “aren’t we missing our employer for one thing? Where’s Princess Elincia?”

Soren opened his mouth to answer, but Ike beat him to it. “Marcia took her ahead of us.” This surprised Soren, who didn’t think he’d been paying attention to anything but Ranulf.

“That means we’re missing Titania, Kieran, Oscar, Nephenee, Brom, Mist, Rolf, Rhys, and…Volke?” Mia counted on her fingers. 

“Volke will get to the ship on his own,” Soren answered her questioning tone.

“Alright,” Ike declared, “split up and search in pairs. You’ve got half an hour. Bring my sister and the others back here!”

“Righto, Boss!” Boyd cheered. He grabbed Ilyana’s arm and ran out the broken door. She seemed stunned, and it was all she could do to keep up.

Lethe and Mordecai formed another pair, leaving Ranulf to rest here. That left three.

“You should stay, Ike, you’re too important to lose,” Soren attempted to advise, but he wouldn’t listen to reason.

“I’m looking for Mist,” he replied flatly.

“Then I will come with you,” Soren compromised. “It will give me a chance to monitor the position of the enemy forces.”

Ike shook his head. “Of course it will.”

“What should I do?” pouted Mia.

“Stay with Ranulf,” Ike ordered. “Get the door boarded up and don’t open it for anyone but us. We’ll be back soon.”

Mia nodded grudgingly.

Ike ran out of the shop, and Soren ran after him.

  

Ike was in a frenzy, running up and down the empty streets whisper-yelling Mist’s name. When they passed other mercenaries, they quickly exchanged information about who was on their way to the garden shop, who was still out searching, and who was still unaccounted for.

Inevitably, Soren and Ike also crossed paths with Daein scouts and the Toha Vigilantes. But whenever one of them saw or heard the enemy party, they would grab the other and turn on their heels to escape without a fight. A hush had fallen over the port city, and most townsfolk were hidden in their homes and businesses. The majority ignored Soren and Ike, but a few would open their shutters and call to the sky: “Daein guys, they’re over here!” or “Toha Vigilantes, we’ve got ‘em! We’ve got ‘em!”

When this happened, Soren sent a sharp burst of wind at their windows, slamming the shutters and shattering the glass. The people screamed and retreated, while he and Ike ran for their lives.

While they searched, Soren tried to keep track of the time. He knew it was nearly past Ike’s half-hour deadline. “We need to get back,” he said. “Maybe the others already found her.”

Ike ground his teeth in frustration, but then nodded. Soren had been building a mental map of the town, and he led them back by the shortest route, only diverting from the path when they saw soldiers or vigilantes ahead.

They ran and hid when necessary, but before long, they’d made it back to the garden shop. Soren was fairly sure they hadn’t been followed, but as he rounded the last turn, he saw the others hadn’t been so lucky.

An infantry unit of six soldiers had found their hiding spot and were currently locked in combat with Lethe and Mordecai in the street. An arrow shot out of the shop’s front window (which had been shattered since they were last here). It hit one of the soldiers in the arm, giving Lethe the chance to go in for the kill. Ilyana then leapt out of the window and electrocuted one of the remaining soldiers. Mordecai clamped his jaws down another soldier’s face, crushing helmet and skull with a single squeeze. The other didn’t last long.

“Commander Ike!” Ilyana panted, leaning against the wall after her heroic leap.

Everyone poured out of the shop, including Mist who sprinted into Ike’s arms. “Brother!”

“Mist,” he laughed, obviously relieved. “Captain Titania, is everyone accounted for?”

She saluted. “Now that you’re here.”

Ranulf pushed his way to the front. He was standing on his own now and had likely been healed by either Mist or Rhys. “Good luck, Ike! You’ll be fine. As for me, I think I’ll play a little game of cat and mouse with these Daein fools. If we’re lucky, I’ll be able to lead a load of them out of the city and clear the streets for you.” He winked, transformed, and dashed off before Ike could stop him.

“Fine,” Ike grumbled at Ranulf’s disappearing tail.

Somewhere not far away, a soldier shouted: “The Gallian subhuman! After him! Don’t let him get away!”

Apparently resigned to Ranulf’s self-sufficiency, Ike turned his attention to his ragtag troop. “Everyone armed?”

In answer, Boyd spun a small axe in each hand and Rolf raised his bow over his head. Everyone else appeared to boast some sort of weapon, even those who’d left most of their equipment with the merchants.

“Move out for the harbor!” Ike drew his sword. “Try to avoid conflict with the local vigilante group if you can. Our ship is in Bay Six!” 

  

They charged from their hideout as one. Titania, Oscar, and Kieran trotted in the lead. Ike, Brom, and Nephenee jogged behind them. Mist, Rhys, and Rolf were protected in the center. Then came Soren and Ilyana. Mia and Boyd were behind them, and the two laguz took up the rear. It was a solid formation, and it stretched and collapsed as necessary to slide through the maze of Tohan streets.

By now, Daein had a firm grasp on the city. Units patrolled individual sectors, and dracoknights floated overhead with horns to their lips, broadcasting the mercenaries’ position even though they never joined the battle themselves. All of the townsfolk had hidden themselves away at this point, except for the vigilantes who charged through the streets howling about hunting subhumans.

Avoiding them proved futile. They pursued Lethe and Mordecai mercilessly, and with Ranulf gone, Lethe eventually fought back. When she did, she eviscerated the humans with particular zeal. Ike did not reprimand her, but Mordecai shook his head in disappointment.

Soon after this, the mercenaries were forced to divide again if they wanted any degree of mobility. Ike gave Titania command of the second group, with firm orders that they not divide any further or else risk losing people. Soren agreed it was the best way to use their numbers and the abilities of each individual. Titania’s group took the downtown route to the docks, while Ike’s group went uptown.

 

After evading the soldiers and decimating the vigilantes, the mercenaries sabotaged the port’s cannons so they could leave the harbor. They were aided by Volke, who conveniently presented himself at just the right moment. Finally they reconvened on the boardwalk, and Soren took a headcount while the others fought their way through the Daein barricade.

At their arrival, Marcia leapt her pegasus from the ship’s deck and flew down to aid her companions (a sure sign Elincia was safely on board). She energetically thrashed the Daeins with her lance, and soon the way to Bay Six was clear.

Their charted vessel was at the dock, the tide was high, the boarding plank was in place, and almost all the ropes had been untied. A few sailors anxiously watched the bloodshed below.

“Onto the ship, quickly!” Ike commanded, and the mercenaries filed up the plank while seagulls picked at the corpses littering the boardwalk. They moved fast, aware that reinforcements would arrive any moment. Ike was the last to board, and as soon as his feet touched the deck, sailors heaved up the plank and cast off the remaining ropes.

Soren, Ike, and Titania gripped the gunwale, watching the dracoknights meander over the rooftops. If Daein was waiting to use the wyvern riders as a last resort, now would be the time. But the commander—a man astride a black dragon instead of a red one—signaled retreat instead. The contingent turned around and flew inland.

The ship creaked as the sailors poled it away from the dock. Ike released a sigh of relief only to have his breath catch in his throat. “It’s him,” he said once he recovered his voice.

It didn’t take long to figure out what he was staring at. The Black Knight had appeared on the boardwalk. He was still encased in ebon armor from head to toe, and he stood with his sword planted between his feet. His hands rested contemplatively on the pommel. He was so close, and yet he made no effort to prevent their leaving.

A blue streak raced between the harbor’s warehouses skidding to a stop a safe distance from the Knight. “You’re not impeding that ship!” Ranulf called, reverting to his human form. “I won’t allow it!”

“One of Gallia’s beast warriors…” came the voice within the expressionless helmet, “I’ve met you once before. Yes…at the castle near the sea of trees.

“From where I’m standing, we’ve actually met twice,” Ranulf replied.

“Oh?”

“I saw you that night!” he cried. “Standing in the light of the full moon. The night you murdered Sir Greil!”

“So you were the one traveling with the beast king… Interesting. By measuring his aide’s strength, I will naturally learn more of the king’s true power.”

Ranulf made a fist and pressed it against his chest. “Hate to tell you this, but my King is not to be measured against the likes of me. He is far beyond that!”

“All the better. Now then, let us begin.” The Black Knight raised his sword, pointing the tip at the cat-man.

Ranulf transformed back into a cat and tensed his haunches, prepared to spring. “No!” Ike called, but there was nothing he could do. Ranulf flew at the armored figure. His agility was impressive to observe as he executed a swift onslaught. And yet, despite how powerful his blows must have been, they didn’t seem to affect the Black Knight at all. He struck back with a single blow and threw Ranulf to the ground. The cat yelped in pain, causing Ike to hiss sympathetically.

But he got back up and resumed his attack, obviously looking for weak points or gaps between the plates of armor. He left a trail of blood behind him now. His efforts were futile. The mercenaries could only watch as the Black Knight moved swiftly—far more swiftly than he should have been able under that armor—and beat and sliced Ranulf to a pulp.

Finally, the end came. Ranulf lowered his belly to the ground and, unable to keep his head up, laid his muzzle between his paws. Soren expected the final blow any second, but the Black Knight didn’t move. “You fight impressively. However, you are no match for me.”

Ranulf didn’t respond.

Just then, a green light, like that of a Heal staff yet much brighter, suddenly glowed over Ranulf’s body. Shaking, he rose to his paws. 

“Hm?” the Black Knight turned around to find what appeared to be a monk standing on the deserted docks. Despite his simple brown smock, he carried a wooden staff with a crimson orb embedded in the intricately carved head—a Physic staff and reason Ranulf was still alive.

“Sephiran?” Ike asked no one in particular. Soren recognized the name from Canteus Castle and wondered if the monk had followed them, and if so, why. 

“Leave this to me,” the monk called to Ranulf.

The cat said something in reply. But the ship was drifting from the dock, and it was becoming hard to hear by the second.

“This knight will not raise his hand to me. Correct?” the monk said, raising his voice as he addressed the Black Knight.

The knight said nothing, but neither did he move.

“Go now,” the monk urged, “and quickly!”

Ranulf said something more, apparently conceding to the monk’s advice. A moment later, he ran off with only a slight limp.

Soren returned his gaze to the monk, who intrigued him in an ominous way. He and the knight stared at each other for a few moments, and then, without saying anything, walked down different streets into the city proper.

“Oh, that was so awful!” Elincia exclaimed when they were gone, making clear the fact that she’d just watched the whole fight. “Poor Ranulf!” She threw her arms around Ike, who patted her back awkwardly. After a couple seconds, Elincia seemed to realize the inappropriateness of her behavior and released him in a hasty retreat.

“What are we still doing here? Push off immediately!” a commanding voice descended on the deck. The crew had frozen in their tracks to watch the fight, but now they leapt into action.

Soren turned his full attention to the captain. He remembered the name Ranulf had used: Nasir. But other than that, he’d given them almost no information about the man or why he was willing to help them.

He had dark skin and light, turquoise hair, which made a striking combination. His shrewd gray eyes seemed old, although his face lacked wrinkles almost entirely—strange for a seafarer at the mercy of the wind and sun. He was clean-shaven, with a straight but delicate nose, high cheekbones, and generally regal features. He could have passed for a nobleman if not for his clothes, which were those of a simple merchant sailor.

Soren, however, didn’t care about the captain’s age, features, or bearing. Although he tried to distract himself with these details, what Soren noticed immediately and could not get out of his mind was the red, tattoo-like mark at the center of this man’s forehead.

In his years of travel, Soren had never seen nor heard of another person with a mark like his. He tried to tell himself they weren’t the same—Nasir’s mark was shaped like a dot below a spikey crown, or perhaps sunrays. It was entirely different than the stricken zigzag Soren bore. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t unusual for pirates and seafaring folk to tattoo themselves with symbols of their adventures. He tried to tell himself it was foolish to hope. But he did hope. He hoped this stranger would provide some clue to Soren’s identity. And he also feared it.

While he and the others examined Nasir, Nasir examined them in return. Soren resisted the urge to fidget under the captain’s penetrating gaze, which dwelled on him far longer than he would have liked. Fear replaced hope entirely, and Soren suddenly felt trapped on this ship. Tearing his eyes away, he turned around to watch Port Toha grow smaller and smaller. Behind him, Ike and Elincia exchanged pleasantries with the strange man, but Soren could hardly listen.