Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ Fire Emblem Tellius Saga: Book 1 ❯ CHAPTER 28: SANAKI'S MISSIONS ( Chapter 28 )

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

Rolf woke him around midday, and Soren got out of bed although he didn’t want to. He met with an imperial messenger, who announced the mercenaries would be moving to Temple Mainal today. He spread the word, ordering the others the pack, even though he felt he had no right to tell them what to do. He washed and dressed even if he couldn’t meet his own eyes in Herring’s gilded mirrors. He packed his own bag, albeit slowly.

Before long, Ike, Titania, and Nasir returned from their morning visit with the empress, and they were a welcome distraction. Elincia was not with them, probably having slipped off to powder her nose (or perhaps find a private place to cry). Meanwhile, Ike was fuming, and he quickly explained why:

Apparently Sanaki had been certain of Elincia’s identity all along. The past three days of interrogation had been nothing but a game for the royal brat’s amusement. Even more insulting and embarrassing was the reason she knew: Sephiran, the strange monk they’d met at Canteus Castle and who’d saved Ranulf from the Black Knight was none other than the Prime Minister of Begnion. He’d played them for fools instead of offering genuine aid. Soren suspected he may have even allowed himself to be captured on purpose. The Prime Minister had returned to Begnion two months ago, somehow avoiding the long sea journey. He’d notified Sanaki of Elincia’s existence, and they’d been awaiting her arrival ever since.

“What incredible nerve!” Ike burst. “To take advantage of our situation and speak down to us like that! I don’t care if she’s the empress or the apostle or whatever! I can’t stand her!”

“Listen, Ike, isn’t it possible that the Apostle saved you?” Titania proposed calmly. Soren didn’t understand what she was referring to (having been once again excluded from the meeting), but he listened closely.

“What?” Ike demanded.

“Titania is correct,” Nasir interceded, “Begnion is a nation ruled by time-honored custom and ancient conventions. You insulted the apostle—the very symbol of their way of life. The fact that you are still breathing is a miracle.”

Soren shook his head. Apparently Ike had blown up in court today. As loath as he was to agree with Nasir, he was right; Ike was lucky he hadn’t gotten into serious trouble. (Then again, he’d always had a knack for getting away with things.)

“I hadn’t realized,” Ike said, calming slightly.

“And as her escort, your criminal behavior would fall directly on your employer, Princess Elincia.” Nasir crossed his arms condescendingly. “If you had truly angered the apostle, any hope of restoring Crimea would have vanished in a puff of smoke.”

“That’s madness!” Ike stomped his foot. “They would sacrifice a whole country to satisfy their own egos?”

“Ike…” Soren decided to try his own hand at calming him. “This may not be much of an answer, but letting madness rule the day is the prerogative of nobility. The beorc divide themselves into classes, and with classes comes prejudice.” He could have stopped there, but he continued: “From the moment of our birth to our final dying gasp, we commoners are not allowed to defy the upper classes.”

Ike looked like he wished to argue, but just then, Elincia appeared in the parlor. She looked tired as she gently closed the door behind her.

“Princess Elincia!” Ike’s steps began briskly but faltered before he reached her. “I… I’m sorry. My ignorance does not excuse my stupidity. I truly am sorry.”

“No. I…” She offered a small smile and took Ike’s hand. “What you said, you said in my defense and in my honor. It made me very pleased.”

“Huh?”

The princess squeezed and released his fingers. “To see you so angered on my behalf, your words filled me heart.”

“It wasn’t as noble as you make it sound.” Ike rubbed the back of his head. He and the princess continued their conversation, but by an unspoken agreement, Soren, Nasir, and Titania decided to excuse themselves.

To Soren’s annoyance, Nasir seemed to be following him. When he judged they wouldn’t be overheard, he stopped in the middle of a corridor. “What do you want?”

“I thought you may want to know the kitchen servants were beaten for their negligence last night. Apparently they forgot to open the flues before starting the ovens.”

“Why would I care about that? It sounds like they were right to be punished. Perhaps they will be more careful in the future.”

“Perhaps,” Nasir repeated, but Soren easily detected his disapproval.

He considered walking away to see if Nasir would let him go this time, but while he had the sea captain alone, there was something he wanted to say. “Why are you still here?”

“Oh, I assumed Ike would have explained,” he replied innocently. “You see, since Captain Ranulf was unable-”

“Yeah I heard,” Soren cut him off. “You’re our replacement guide. But that’s not really what I’m asking.”

Nasir folded his arms. “Neither Ike nor Titania have been to Begnion. Even the Princess lacks any experience. Although I am a simple merchant, I do know this country and its ways.”

“So you’ve made yourself Ike’s advisor…out of the goodness of your heart?”

“Ike considers me a friend,” Nasir said as if honestly surprised and slightly insulted. “Would you think it odd for one friend to aid another?”

“The court doesn’t know you’re a subhuman,” Soren cut in. “They would never let you near the Apostle if they did.”

Nasir unfolded his arms, perhaps irked by the slur. “They have not asked, and I have not volunteered the information. Would you?”

Soren glared. He had nothing more to say, and he knew Nasir wasn’t so naïve an opponent that he would let his secrets slip now. After a few moments, he continued walking, and Nasir took a side corridor instead.

 

The rest of the day was spent moving the mercenaries into the capital building. Everyone was given their own room. The horses were moved to the imperial stables, and Marcia’s pegasus was given a space in the paddock with the holy guards’ pegasi. Jill’s wyvern, on the other hand, was given a slightly larger cage in the basement.

“He needs to fly! To hunt!” she complained.

“Sorry, Jill,” Ike replied. “But it might start a panic if people see a Daein wyvern flying over the city.”

She harrumphed and stroked the beast’s scaly snout. Soren thought the creature looked content enough gnawing on a cow’s femur.

A parade of beautifully dressed servants carried their belongings into each of their rooms, and the mercenaries were met with a level of hospitality they’d never experienced before. Rolf and Mist jumped on the big fluffy beds, and Sothe eyed the ornate vases and jewel-entrusted bowls with hungry eyes. Gatrie cried with joy when he saw that each room had been furnished with a bottle of Begnion wine and a box of hand-crafted confectionaries. Each room also had its own bookshelf filled with an assortment of random books, a desk stocked with paper and ink, a plush rug, a fireplace and a bed-warmer, a chest of drawers packed with fresh linens, a wardrobe containing fine clothes tailored to fit the occupant, a tucked-away chamber pot, and a bath basin large enough that Soren could lie in the bottom from head to toe.

He’d never experienced such luxury before, and his awe was compounded by the distinct feeling that he shouldn’t be here. He was an abomination. He belonged in the gutter, as he’d lived as a child. Back then, he’d fought against his lot in life, telling himself he could be more. But now he knew the truth. He deserved nothing.

Perhaps because of this, the fancy rooms and amenities felt like a trap, and he found himself wondering how long the mercenaries would be lodged here. Walking the halls and glancing through the open doors, he realized most of the others were struggling to accept their new surroundings too. Boyd was fighting with a servant, claiming to want to carry his own bags. Rhys was stuttering to another, trying to tell him he didn’t mind washing his own robes. Nephenee hadn’t moved from the middle of her room, as if afraid to touch any of the nice things. Only Jill Fizzart and Astrid Baum seemed at ease amid the extravagance, which must have been familiar to the young noblewomen.

The courtyard below their windows had been shaped into a training ground, and it didn’t take long for the mercenaries to discover it. Most spent the rest of the evening here, sparring until long after sunset and perhaps finding it more familiar than their bedrooms.

Soren, however, was still tired after last night’s excursion. Although he thought he’d never be able to read another word without a headache, he found himself pulling volumes from the bookshelf in his room. He took into bed a small text about the development of the wind- and watermills in Crimea, and soon fell asleep.  

  

Soren was prepared for another tedious day in the lap of luxury, but then Ike called him, Elincia, and Titania for an urgent meeting. The summons was a ray of sunlight in his listless fog. When he arrived to find Commander Sigrun of the Holy Guard also present, his curiosity livened his blood. He had something else to think about; he had something else to do. He was additionally gladdened that Nasir had not been invited. Apparently, there was some company business that still belonged solely to him, Ike, and Titania.

“Empress Sanaki is offering us a job,” Ike explained once they were all present. “Princess Elincia, as our current employer, if you allow us to take on side contra-”

“Of course!” Elincia replied before he’d finished. “I am well-guarded here, and I do not wish to waste your time…waiting for me.”

Ike nodded. “Titania? Soren?”

“It will be good for us to work again,” Titania agreed, “I believe some of our number are becoming restless.”

“I agree,” Soren added, “Given the possibility we will never be able to return to Crimea, I believe it is prudent to explore our prospects here.”

Elincia’s gaze fell to the floor, but her eyes remained dry. Soren remembered Greil’s request that he stop testing her, but he couldn’t help but assess her reactions. As for Ike, he was frowning, but maybe he remembered that he’d told Soren to always speak his mind, because he didn’t scold him. “Really, Soren!” was all Titania said.

Sigrun took over from here. She gave them the details on the job and the expected pay if they were successful. Soren listened carefully and started planning.

 

Sanaki’s mission brought the mercenaries to Osim River, east of Sienne. It was a winding, branching tributary swollen with the spring floods. But bridges had been built to cross from one grassy knoll to the next, safely bypassing the mud-filled gullies and fast-flowing streams. 

The Greil Mercenaries were charged with the task of eliminating a group of smugglers and seizing their cargo. Sigrun was not at liberty to tell them what the cargo was, how long the smugglers had been in operation, or why Sanaki had chosen them for this task instead of dispatching her soldiers. But she did provide estimates of their numbers and a map marked with their suspected supply routes and trading posts. That was all Soren needed.

He was glad to be working again, and he knew the other mercenaries felt the same. There was an air of excitement about them as they rode in modest carriages from the city to the small fishing village that would be their base of operations. Jill was ecstatic to fly her wyvern again, although Ike ordered her and Marcia to stay close to the ground and not alert the smugglers to their presence.

Titania, Oscar, Kieran, and Astrid were dispatched to investigate some of the nearest spots Sigrun had marked for them, while a handful of other mercenaries began asking locals about any smuggler activity they might have noticed. As an added measure, Volke and Sothe were given free rein to creep into any place they weren’t supposed to be and discover the real information they needed.

Soren consulted his maps and made alterations given the spring floods. He also noted the fog coming down from the mountains and riding along the river like a ghostly promenade. These were not ideal conditions, and the smugglers were sure to know the terrain far better than the mercenaries. It wouldn’t be an easy battle.

Eventually Volke and Sothe returned, having determined from two different sources the location where the smugglers were unloading their shipment today. Soren notified Ike, who gathered the mercenaries together.

There were twenty-two of them now, an impressive (albeit eclectic) regiment of sell-swords. They wore no uniforms, they didn’t march or walk in formation, and they whispered to one another idly, even while they stalked their prey. They were a far cry from disciplined soldiers, but Soren thought he preferred it this way. They were individuals, each with unique skills and each capable of making independent choices in battle. Some fought like knights while others street brawlers. They fought dirty when they had to, and they weren’t afraid to try new tactics, each one developing a fighting style of their own that meshed with the others’. Soren observed this even as he fought alongside them.

 

They’d only taken out a few smugglers before the alarm was sounded. Now they were assailed on all sides in the mist. The mercenaries chased the smugglers (and were themselves chased) from island to island, from bank to bank. But the mercenaries were adaptable. They learned the terrain quickly, and they stayed on their toes. The smugglers were decent fighters, but nothing special. The mercenaries made strong headway.

But their good fortune didn’t last. Soren heard the sounds of breathless snarling and roaring—like a dog on the hunt, if the dog were actually a grizzly—and he knew this battle was far from over. Apparently Ike heard it too. “Form up!” he called. “Something’s comi-” His words and breath were knocked out of him when the beast leapt through the fog from the bank of the opposite island. It’s claws bit into Ike’s shoulders, knocking him into the dirt.

At first, Soren thought Mordecai had lost his mind. This was a tiger laguz—Mordecai’s equal in size and Lethe’s equal in brutality. But this thought quickly vanished. This tiger was gray, not blue. It was also thinner and its coat mangy. It wore a thick iron collar with spikes on the inside, and there were iron bands on each of its legs with loops for chains to be attached. Its tail had been bobbed, the ruff around its neck shaved, and some insignia burned onto its flank. Even more surprising, this creature had genitalia and an anus—accoutrements usually missing from laguz in their shifted forms. And yet it had the shape, markings, and saber teeth of a regular tiger laguz and was therefore unlikely to be an animal found in nature.

Soren stared in disbelief, noting these things and trying to think of anything that could explain such a phenomenon. He’d just read quite a bit about laguz in the catacombs. Perhaps this one was half-shifted? The process yielded a weaker animal body but allowed the individual to sustain the transformation for far longer.

By now Ike and Nephenee had wrestled off the beast and sliced and stabbed it numerous times. The creature whined, growled, and bayed like a mad dog, but it didn’t speak a word. Nephenee continued to thrust her spear, and it stopped making these sounds. But neither did it revert to its human form.

“Why—won’t—ya—die!” Nephenee panted between strikes.

Ike stilled her arm. “Stop, Nephenee. I- I think it’s dead.”

“But-” She stopped and looked embarrassed by her overkill. “I thought laguz had to change back when they died. The crows always did.”

Ike shook his head. “I don’t know.” A chorus of growls followed by the excited whooping of the smugglers suddenly sounded from the next island. “More are coming!” he announced, gesturing for the mercenaries to form up, “Get ready!”             Everyone turned to address the new threat. Ike sidled up to Soren. “Thanks for the help,” he muttered.

“You and Nephenee seemed to have it handled,” he replied coolly, “so I took a moment to observe.”

“And do you have any idea what they are?” Ike asked, just as four more of the beasts leapt through the mist. Two columns of smugglers with axes and torches were charging over the nearest bridges. Everyone started fighting again. It took two or three mercenaries to take down just one of the strange tigers. Only Mordecai took one on himself, and he fought with more ferocity than Soren had ever seen. After months spent in the laguz’s company, he’d come to think of him as a large kitten.

Soren tried to stay near Ike and answer while he fought: “I cannot say for certain yet, but these are no ordinary laguz.”

“Yeah,” Ike panted, “I can tell that much!”

They finished the battle in a panicked frenzy, and Soren was surprised when there were only a few enemies left. He’d found the tigers to be as susceptible to fire magic as regular beast laguz, and after passing this information on to Ilyana (who’d been making great strides in her use of fire magic) the pair helped the others defeat the remaining creatures. As with the first, none of these spoke human language or reverted to their human forms once they died.

After their tigers had been defeated, some of the smugglers turned and fled. But the leader remained to defend his cargo. Sigrun had requested some smugglers be captured for interrogation, so Ike shouted for him to surrender. He refused, so Ike cut him down. Now he called to his mercenaries: “We need some alive! Knock them out or immobilize them!” In a mad scramble, the mercenaries routed or captured whoever was left.

Rhys and Mist healed a few of them so they would survive long enough to be taken into Begnion custody. Then they were bound, gagged, and forced to sit beside their cargo: large boxes with airholes and, in some cases, growling occupants. Sometimes the crates thumped or moved on their own. Half were still on the smuggler’s riverboats, while the other half were sitting on land or in camouflaged burrows. Ike ordered that a perimeter be marked and guarded and that the boats be secured. Meanwhile Astrid and Oscar were sent as runners back to the fishing village so word could be sent to Sigrun that the job was done.

While they waited, Soren decided to investigate the corpses of the feral laguz more closely, but he could find no clue about what they were or how they’d come to be. Lethe, Mordecai, and Zihark were also investigating and conversing in hushed tones. Soren decided to approach and compare notes.

Lethe placed her foot on the leader’s skull. There was fire in her eyes. “This man…he is the worst of the humans. Filthy creatures like him are responsible for the suffering of my race. Slavers…”

“So that is what you think they are,” Soren interrupted, “slaves?”

Lethe removed her foot and glared at him. She gestured at the ragged gray corpse of a beast. “What would you call that?” she snarled.

Soren kept his tone cool. “Would you call a yoked ox or a saddled mare a slave?”

“I know you hate us, boy, but you go too far,” Lethe hissed, seizing the front of his tunic.

He knew his words warranted this, but he doubted she would actually hurt him. So he remained calm and let her show off her anger. “For once I am not insulting you. I am merely suggesting that the creatures we faced were no longer people at all.”

She released him with a small shove. “Then they are worse than slavers.”

He smoothed down his shirt. “Have you seen anything like this before?” He moved his eyes from Lethe to Mordecai. He even looked to Zihark, who was apparently a laguz aficionado.

Zihark shook his head. Mordecai frowned at his feet. Lethe sighed softly, “No, never.”

Soren nodded to show he’d expected as much. Then he left without another word. He wouldn’t offer empty condolences or a shallow apology on behalf of his race. No, not my race, he corrected himself. I am not beorc. His heart sank and his feet slowed. I have to remember that now. The idea that it spared him any complicity in beorc crimes was no consolation.

  

He returned to the temporary camp, where Titania and Ike were arguing openly.

“You know Commander Sigrun has strictly forbidden it!” Titania was saying.

“I don’t want to do it just because I’m curious,” Ike replied. “Whatever’s in those crates could need our help!”

Titania pressed both hands to her head as if distressed. “Sigrun said not to open them, no matter what.”

Ike growled under his breath and started pacing.

Titania seemed about to give in, and Soren was glad he’d arrived when he did. “If you open one, even to peek inside, Sigrun will not pay us or offer us another job,” he warned. Ike stopped pacing. “We must follow our employer’s instruction.”

Ike glared. “Then I’m going to ask the prisoners!” he announced, twisting around.

“No,” Titania put herself between him and the bound smugglers. “Sigrun said not to try to interrogate them. They’re Begnion citizens even if they are criminals,” she reasoned. “I don’t like it any more than you, but they have rights.”

Soren was surprised by her foresight. Usually she was just as ruled by emotion as Ike. “Titania’s right,” he found himself saying. “They have been disarmed and arrested. We cannot harass them further.”

“We’re not Begnion soldiers,” Ike pouted, “Why should we be bound by their protocol?”

“Because we were hired by the Begnion Empress,” Soren answered evenly, “and we represent the Crimean Princess. Your rash act now could jeopardize Elincia’s chances of winning Begnion’s aid. And conversely, our success here could put her in the Apostle’s good graces.”

Soren could tell by Ike’s face that he’d won him over. His shoulders sagged, and he ran his gaze over his assembled troops. “I might not be able to ask the smugglers,” he said with a sudden grin, “But I can see what Makalov knows!” He ran off before Soren could ask what in Tellius he was talking about.

He appeared to be running toward where Marcia was talking to an unfamiliar man with orange armor, frizzy pink hair, and a stub nose. Soren had noticed him in battle. He’d stood out as one of the only horsemen among the smugglers and certainly the only one in custom armor, even if it was scuffed and faded. At the time, Soren had ignored him, seeing as he’d had other opponents to best. Apparently that had been the right choice. If he was standing among the mercenaries instead of sitting in the dirt among the prisoners, he must not have been a smuggler after all. 

“Makalov?” Soren repeated to Titania, hoping she could fill him in.

“Another new recruit,” Titania sighed, “and the wayward brother Marcia has been looking for.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s quite the coincidence.”

“Not really,” she explained. “When Marcia was hunting him, he’d been duped into serving pirates. When his ship came to Begnion, his debts were traded to the smugglers, and he was tricked into working for them instead… He doesn’t strike me as very bright, but Marcia asked Ike to give him a place in the company.”

“And Ike accepted, no questions asked,” Soren finished the tale. “Of course.”

Titania chuckled. “Our little family keeps growing, doesn’t it?”

Soren gave her his best withering look.

 

A contingent of pegasus knights arrived to collect the smugglers and cargo. They were led by Captain Tanith who paid Ike and refused to answer his questions. “We thank you for your assistance, but at this time I cannot disclose the details of this investigation,” she said. She then reminded them that a condition of the contract they’d signed was that they were now forbidden from speaking of what they’d seen or heard during this mission. This riled Ike, but Titania eventually calmed him down again.

The mercenaries were ferried back to Sienne by carriage, and over the next few days they heard nothing of what had happened to the smugglers or their cargo. 

 

Soren was starting to get bored again, and being bored meant his mind had ample time to wander—to return again and again to the fact that he was Branded. That he was an abomination. That he had no place in the world. That sooner or later everyone would find out.

Luckily he was saved from his spiraling anxiety by Sigrun. She appeared before the mercenaries again, offering another mission. The objective was the same, but this one would pay a little more.

Ike accepted, and they travelled to a valley between two mountains where they intercepted another band of smugglers. These were easier to defeat, and once again the mercenaries were forbidden from opening any of the crates or interrogating any of the prisoners. However, this time it was less tempting. The crates stank but didn’t produce any growling or thumping. Among the smugglers there were only two feral laguz. Both were orange cats like Lethe, but collared and chained. They were so thin Soren could see ribs under their loose coats, and the brand on their flanks was different.

  

After a few days’ rest in Sienne, Sigrun appeared with their next mission. And so it went for months on end. Elincia spent her days playing princess in Begnion’s court, and the mercenaries helped by serving as the empress’s elite animal catchers.

That being said, on many such missions there were no animals to be caught. Sometimes the smugglers they tracked were merely dealing in tobacco from Persis or rare freshwater pearls from Lake Semper. Others were selling laguz paraphernalia including cured tiger-hide rugs, raven-feather cloaks, and dragon-scale jewelry. Soren didn’t know if these items were authentic, but now that he’d seen with his own eyes that laguz could be killed without changing form, it was quite possible.

On still other occasions, the smugglers had moved location or scattered before the mercenaries could reach them. When this occurred, Sigrun gave them a pittance for their trouble but they were denied the pay they would have earned. Without the distraction of a battle to plan, Soren’s mind would run away with him. His thoughts would twist deep down into dark places until he was once again pulled out by Sigrun and another job.