Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ Fire Emblem Tellius Saga: Book 2 ❯ CHAPTER 46: GRITNEA TOWER ( Chapter 15 )

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

The shaking wouldn’t stop. Collapses echoed one after another, and waves of stone dust billowed out of doorways Ranulf told them not to pass through at the last second. The cat’s keen nose led them toward fresh air and out of the building, but only barely. The central structure had already caved in behind them, and walls were still crumbling, sliding, and falling all over the castle. Just when it seemed to be over, another section collapsed. 

When they were finally out, they staggered away coughing. The dust had formed a massive cloud, and it was impossible for Soren to see more than a couple feet in front of his face. But on instinct, he and Ranulf led the others down the hill toward the camp. The dust wasn’t blowing in this direction, so their vision had cleared by the time they arrived.

Soren glanced over his shoulder at the wreckage, and although he could hardly see what remained, he knew Nados was gone. There would be no repairing this. The Daeins had weakened the structure with their traps, and the dragon had sabotaged it from the center. Soren wondered how many from both the Daein Army and the Liberation Army had died inside.

“I want a headcount as soon as possible!” Ike coughed and shook the stone dust from his hair. “I want to know how many made it out. And I want search parties to look for survivors,” he ordered while striding purposefully toward the main infirmary tent.

When they arrived, he laid Ena on a cot and Mist set to work checking her pulse and examining the wound in her chest. It looked to Soren as if a large blade had dipped in an out, puncturing her right lung. If it had been on the left, she would have died instantly. Whoever did this had wanted her to suffer (or, Soren thought, perhaps they’d wanted to give her a chance to be saved).

“What happened to her?” asked Mist.

“What happened to the Black Knight?” asked Titania.

Ike answered while staring intently at the wounded dragon. “When I entered the room, Ena was on the floor and the Black Knight was standing over her, his blade wet with her blood…” He shook his head in either anger or frustration, Soren couldn’t tell. “I fought him. I held my own against him, and Mist healed me from behind.” He paused a moment and addressed his sister alone, “Thanks for coming, Mist. You didn’t have to-”

“Yes, I did.” Her eyes were closed tight in concentration as she held her staff over Ena’s chest.

“Right…” Ike continued, “Anyway, some reinforcements came in, but the Black Knight told them not to engage me. So they went after Mist.” His voice was clearly angry now. “We fought them together; there weren’t many. But the Black Knight didn’t appreciate that I’d turned my back on him. He got the drop on me...”

Soren suddenly noticed the long slit on Ike’s back. The Black Knight had struck him from behind, cutting through his cape, leather armor, chainmail, shirt, and flesh in a single slice. A stretch of angry red skin and a long, rope-like scar was barely visible beyond the slit, and Soren realized it was thanks to Ike’s blind luck rather than Mist’s hasty healing that he hadn’t been paralyzed or killed. Bile rose in Soren’s throat at the thought of what he’d almost lost. Titania and Ranulf were staring at it too, and their faces revealed they were thinking the same thing.

“…I fought back,” Ike continued, “and gave the Black Knight some damage he wouldn’t soon forget. But even so… I don’t know if I would have been able to defeat him if Nasir hadn’t appeared.”

“That white dragon was Nasir?” Titania gasped.

Ike nodded. “He told me to grab Ena and Mist and get out. It became pretty clear he was going to destroy the place to defeat the Black Knight, so I did what he said. You know the rest.”

Ranulf closed his eyes as if in mourning. “Nasir’s motivations were a mystery to the end,” he whispered.

“You’re sure he’s dead?” Ike asked.

Ranulf twitched his ears. “I suppose our search parties will answer that question, but he was at the epicenter of the collapse… Once that hall caved in behind us, I didn’t hear anyone struggling out of the rubble—dragon or otherwise.”

“Then the Black Knight is truly defeated as well?” Titania asked.

“It would seem so,” was Ranulf’s response.

“I am sorry you couldn’t be the one…” she told Ike lamely.

He shrugged as if to say it didn’t bother him, but the gesture was unconvincing. “It only matters that it is done.”

“She is stable,” Mist interrupted, feeling Ena’s pulse and temperature.

“Shackle her to the cot and assign a guard,” Ike ordered Titania. “I want to know the moment she wakes up.”

Titania bowed her head. “Right away.”

Next he turned to Mist. “See to the injured, but get some rest as soon as you can.” He spoke more softly than when he’d spoken to Titania, but it was still an order. Ranulf was the next to receive a command: “Join the search of the ruins and return to me with a report. Bring some laguz to move the larger rubble, but don’t stray farther than is safe.” Ranulf saluted. Ike seemed to think for a moment, adding: “Bring Largo too.”

“As good as two tigers, right?” Ranulf joked.

“So they say.”

Ranulf saluted again, this time with a smile.

“Soren.” Ike turned to him. “I’m going to check on casualties. You should coordinate our move back to Fort Pinell. And while you are at it, put your mind to the question of how we might increase our numbers in time for the final battle… I don’t know how many we lost today, but I know it was too many. Pinell too.”

“I will find a solution,” Soren promised, surprised by his friend’s foresight.

 

After getting cleaned up, having a bite to eat, and drinking his fill (an affair that took no more than ten minutes) Soren met with the necessary lieutenants to get the supplies packed up and the army crawling back to Pinell. Once this was underway, Soren searched for Lucia, Geoffrey, Bastian, or Elincia—any of the four would do. He found the Delbray twins first. They were taking a meal in the strategy tent, perhaps trying to find a moment of peace before heading out. Since the strategy tent was always the last to be dismantled, it was a good place to lie low.

“After the casualties suffered today,” Soren began, “Ike has decided we need more men. We do not have time to waste awaiting reinforcements from Gallia or the Begnion army in Daein. They must come from Crimea.”

Lucia swallowed the hunk of bread she’d been chewing and gestured for Soren to sit with them. He did. “What do you propose we do?” Lucia asked, sounding tired.

“The surviving Royal Knights have already assimilated with the Crimea Liberation Army,” Geoffrey added. “If there were more left free and alive, they would be here.”

“I think not,” Soren replied bluntly. “Knights, soldiers, and militiamen are no more immune to cowardice than anyone else. When this war began, many Royal Knights undoubtedly fled their stations and have been hiding since. I am equally certain many soldiers and registered militiamen chose to hide their armor under hay rather than don it and fight for their doomed country.”

Geoffrey and Lucia wore matching scowls, but they said nothing.

Soren continued: “When Ike freed the prisoners at Canteus Castle, only three—two militia and one knight—decided to join the Greil Mercenaries and defend the princess. The rest returned home to wait out the war. These cowards are the ones we need now—a secret force waiting to be roused.”

“If you think so little of them,” Lucia snarled, “why do you wish to call on them?”

“Because there is no one else,” Soren said flatly. “And even cowards can be inspired to moments of rash bravery if whispered the right words.”

“And what words will those be?” Geoffrey’s voice was masked.

“I haven’t a clue,” Soren replied honestly. “But the important thing is that they come from your and Elincia’s mouths. Convince them they will be valued soldiers, not pin cushions for Daein arrows. Convince them honor or glory awaits. Convince them the road to Pinell will be safe.”

“How will we get this word out?” Lucia asked skeptically. “We haven’t enough riders.”

“Rumors travel faster than men, and in all directions at once,” was Soren’s reply.

“Daein will hear these rumors as well,” Geoffrey pointed out.

“Yes, and they will accost people on the roads without warning or provocation. They will loot farms in search of hidden weapons and armor. Crimean nationalists and sympathizers will be beaten and even killed.” Soren paused a moment to let that sink in. “But enough men and women will make it to Pinell to be worth the cost.”

The twins took a moment to digest this, but Lucia was the first to come to a decision: “I will speak to Elincia. I have little doubt she will agree if I support the plan. Geoffrey?”

“I agree as well.” He nodded. “We will visit the nearest towns and spread the word. Seeing the Princess herself, the people will be most inspired.”

“Good,” Soren said without inflection. “Considering our victories the past few days, there is a high likelihood Ashnard will send soldiers into the nearest towns to assault the townsfolk and burn their houses. He will do this to draw us out, cut off our food supply, and destabilized our support among the common folk. But we will be unable to spare many men. When you visit the towns, I recommend you bring weapons and armor. Strip them from Daein corpses to avoid expense. You should distribute these among the citizenry if they are to survive.”

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” Lucia said sharply. It wasn’t a compliment.

Soren pretended not to hear her. Instead he said, “Remember, you have only two weeks,” and departed. He had accomplished his mission. Now he would report to Ike and (barring any additional tasks assigned to him) join the train back to Pinell and finally have some rest.

 

Soren found Ike standing on the hill, in front of a breach in the wall, staring at the wreck of a tower whose falling had blown open this hole. The dust cloud had lifted, and the sun was low in the sky, turning the disjointed pile of stone into a nest of shadows. Ike began pacing, stopped, stared, and started again. “What’s wrong?” Soren asked when he reached him.

“Nasir and the Black Knight are in there somewhere, but there’s no way to get to them.”

“Their bodies,” Soren reminded. “According to rescue teams’ assessments, it is impossible for anyone to have survived at the center of the structure. They are dead. It is over.” He had to admit he was disappointed Nasir had died before he’d been able to understand him, and he supposed he could understand Ike’s disappointment that the Black Knight had died by another’s hand. But there was nothing either of them could do but move on.

“I know,” Ike sighed, as if reading his mind. “I just… I wanted to get under that mask. I wanted to see the face of the man who killed my father.”

“The helmet was his face,” Soren proposed softly. “It was the face he chose. A better representation of the man inside than the random set of features he was born with, don’t you think?”

“Is that how you feel?” Ike asked, quietly and spontaneously.

Soren was so surprised he wasn’t sure he’d heard him right. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Ike shook his head. “Anyway, Ena woke up.”

“What did she say?” Soren asked, eager to change the subject.

Ike started walking down the hill, and Soren fell in step beside him. “For her failure in Nevassa, Ashnard ordered the Black Knight to kill her. She says she’s Nasir’s granddaughter and that is why he came to save her.”

Soren waited for Ike to continue, certain there was more information.

“You’re not surprised?”

“I’ve heard about the long lives of the dragons,” Soren replied coolly.

“Oh,” Ike continued, “well, Ena has also offered us information in return for saving her life: the location of Princess Leanne.”

“And you trust her?”

“I do.”

Soren considered this a moment, but he was willing to suspend judgment on the dragon general. “So where are we headed?”

Ike chuckled. “Plans later. Rest first, my friend. We all need it.” Soren was glad to see the burden of the Black Knight seemed to have rolled off his shoulders, at least for now.

  

Back at Fort Pinell they slept, healed, and roved sluggishly throughout the next day. Those who couldn’t sleep mourned their dead comrades, returned to Nados to search the ruins, or were busy digging a vast graveyard between Pinell and Nados. Elincia blessed their efforts and vowed to have a monument built when the war was over. Those not digging ditches patrolled a five mile’s radius around the fort or visited nearby towns begging for supplies and recruits. Soren, fortunately, was one of the ones who could sleep. And he did so, deeply.

 

Ilyana woke him in the early afternoon with a tap on his door. “A war council is about to begin. General Ike requests your presence,” was her announcement, after which her stomach gurgled. “Do you have any food?”

“We are on half rations for now. If you’ve already had yours, you will just have to wait.”

Ilyana frowned. “Calill doesn’t eat much,” she mused. “Maybe she will share.” With that she drifted away.

Closing the door again, Soren donned his robes and boots and strapped on the belt and green sash he wore around his tunic. In the past few weeks, he’d added more holes to the belt, and he now tightened it to the last one. He could ignore hunger for the most part, and he didn’t mind being a lightweight in battle as long as he could still run fast enough to keep up. But he had to admit he was becoming dangerously skinny, and it wasn’t his problem alone.

The army was just shy of starving, and their malnutrition would be evident in battle if something didn’t change before Melior. Daein had bled the local townships dry, and yet Pinell’s storehouses had been nearly empty when they arrived. Soren could only assume this meant most of the Daein Army’s food and supplies had already been moved south with the invasion troops, and were now far out of reach. The Liberation Army hadn’t been able to salvage any food from Nados either, and rations wouldn’t last long.

Deciding to solve this problem later, Soren hastily brushed and tied back his hair. Then he departed for Pinell’s war room: a windowless chamber in the center of the fort with a large stone table and hefty wooden chairs.

He was glad he wasn’t the last to arrive; Titania was also late. She still had the imprint of her sleeve on her cheek as if she’d just woken up, but she seemed energetic enough.

“Titania, Soren,” Ike began, “Tomorrow at daybreak I’ll be taking a small force south to Gritnea Tower.”

“For what purpose?” Titania asked curiously

“That’s where they’re holding Leanne.”

“Are you certain?” asked Reyson.

“Fairly certain, yes.”

Tibarn didn’t need any more proof. “Alright, then I’ll go with you.”

“As will I,” Reyson seconded. He and the hawk wore expressions of matching intensity.

“Of course,” was Ike’s response.

Soren agreed. As Ike had said, this would have to be a small expedition, but Tibarn and Reyson would be critical members. “And the main army?” he asked. “Have you considered what it must do and who will lead in your absence?”

“Yes, I have.” Ike turned to Elincia beside him. “Princess Elincia, may I count on you?”

“Naturally,” she replied, and she looked composed, confident. She was still wearing the battle crown instead of her old tiara, and instead of a gown, she now wore trousers and a tunic with a long tail. A slim sword hung from her hip. “I will remain here and see to it that preparations for storming the capital continue as planned. However, you must promise to return. And to bring my lady Leanne with you.”

“I hear you.” Ike’s gaze was embedded in hers, as if he were leaving a piece of himself behind in her eyes. It reminded Soren of what he would lose if they managed to win this war, and what Crimea would gain.

 

Ike selected a group of twenty-five capable warriors for this mission, including Tibarn. Reyson, and himself. The Hawk King would have free reign of the battlefield to move and fight as he saw fit, while the other twenty-four closed in on the tower in careful unison.

To Soren’s surprise, Ike also chose the dragon Ena as a member of the mission party. If she was setting them up for a trap, Soren supposed it was more convincing for her to risk her own life. That being said, if she wasn’t misleading them, she could provide useful information as they got closer or function as a bargaining chip if need be. He encouraged Ike to bring her only as a prisoner, but he refused. He wouldn’t chain her, and he invited her to fight alongside them of her own free will.

Soren realized Ike had already decided she was a friend and therefore would hear no word of caution against her. (Now that Nasir had saved his life, Ike seemed to have no qualms about trust again.)

 

“That’s Gritnea Tower, right?” Ike asked when the spire appeared above the trees.

“It is,” Ena answered.

“Say, Ike…” Ranulf whispered. “There’s something…really odd about that tower.” He breathed in deeply as if scenting the air. “I mean really odd…”

Ike raised his fist, ordering the party to halt. “What is it?”

Ranulf closed his eyes. “I sense several of the beast tribe, but…what is that?” He sniffed again and shook his head. “Ugh! Something smells terrible!”

Soren tried to sense it too, but the tower was still beyond his range.

Ena’s spoke in a sad voice. “The tower holds laguz who have been given toxins, foul potions to warp their true shape.”

“Are you talking about the laguz who can’t change forms?” Ike asked. “We first fought some like that in Begnion…”

Ena nodded solemnly. “Yes.”

“Do you know how many and what type they are?” asked Ranulf.

“As far as numbers,” Ena began, “A conservative estimate would be thirty. Types? There are tiger and cats from the beast tribes, hawks and ravens from the bird tribes, and…dragons.”

“There are some from the dragon tribes as well?” Ranulf repeated in disbelief and fear. If he were in cat form, Soren was sure his fur would be standing on end.

“No more than ten,” Ena said, “well…probably no more than ten.”

“We have to fight ten dragons like you?” Ike ran his fingers through his hair.

“They are not like me, Master Ike.” Ena shook her head. “Their madness makes them stronger.”

Ike scowled. “That’s hardly encouraging.”

“Regardless, we must hurry,” Tibarn interceded. “It’s going to be dark soon. It’s rather embarrassing, but we of the bird tribes don’t move well in the dark.” Although the party had set out at dawn, they’d had to ride most of the day to reach the tower.

“Sad but true. Of course, the same can be said for those on the enemy side,” Reyson pointed out.

“On the other hand,” Ranulf countered, “darkness means next to nothing for my kind. Depending on who we face, it could prove to be a significant-”

“There are more of the beast tribe than any other,” Ena cut him off. “It is because we are close to Gallia. Daein buys them from Crimean pirates who pick them up along the coast.” Her voice lacked sympathy.

This seemed to offend Ranulf, who narrowed his eyes. “Listen you,” he hissed. “Are you sure you want to be on our side?”

“Yes, of course,” Ena replied as if she didn’t understand his ire. “That is why I provide accurate information.”

Soren was surprised by the smile he felt tug at his lips. Between Nasir and Ena, it seemed dragon culture was quite unlike the other laguz nations. He doubted any other laguz would have given such a practical answer.

“So once it gets dark, we’re going to be at a disadvantage, right? As long as we know that, we can plan for it,” Ike said optimistically.

“You’re too calm about this for my taste,” Ranulf moaned. He pressed his hands against his head and shook it in despair. “This is going to be a-”

“Enough, Ranulf!” Ike scolded. “We don’t have time for complaints. We need to find the entrance to the tower.” The plan was to fan out and approach the tower from all sides, but Ike wanted to be facing the entrance when he did so. It was his way of leading the charge.

“Yeah, yeah.” Ranulf transformed. “I’m coming.” The pair bounded into the underbrush.

Until they returned, the rest were supposed to lie low. They whispered and kicked stones. They tried to stay quiet. Anticipation for the battle thrummed in their veins, their nerves, the muscles of their twitching fingers.

A Daein scout found them not long after Ike and Ranulf had left. Shinon sent an arrow into the man’s throat, but not before he’d blown his horn in warning. Moments later, a squadron of mages came to investigate, but the mercenaries defeated them easily. Their dead bodies littered the forest floor by the time Ike and Ranulf returned.

“We heard the horn but assumed you had it covered,” Ranulf explained.

“Daein troops and feral laguz are mobilizing around the tower,” Ike reported. He then set about assigning and describing the formation of the assault. Four units of five would attack from all directions simultaneously. A fifth unit would travel between them to offer support and healing. “Move out!” Ike ordered. He, Ranulf, Reyson, and Tormod composed the unit that would take the front.

Soren and the others moved to their positions, and when Tibarn’s piercing shriek signaled the charge, the battle truly began.

 

As Soren neared the tower, he finally detected the scent Ranulf had been talking about. Pungent, chemical, and sickly, it seemed out of place in the forest. Under Crimea’s rule, Gritnea Tower had been a scholastic temple—a place of science, magic, and meditation far from the prising eyes of society. But Soren suspected Daein had transformed it into something else.

Three cats and a raven raced to meet them, and Soren started casting Wind spells above and Elfire spells below. A chain dangled from the raven’s foot as if it had just been freed, and the cats were already bleeding from small puncture wounds in their flanks as if they’d just been prodded into action. Although still mangy and ill-looking, these feral ones appeared better-fed than the others Soren had fought. Their muscles bulged unnaturally under their matted coats, making them look even more like deformed creatures. Bald patches and silver-white scars traced over their flanks, faces, and torn ears, indicating this wasn’t their first fight.

If this was truly the place where the feral laguz were being created and trained, he suspected these were the survivors of forced fights—and therefore the strongest. The cats were fast and knew to avoid the flames.

As he fought, Soren struggled to ignore the tower’s cloying scent. But the smell wormed its way into his head, making it feel stretched and giving him a headache. It sunk into his skin, making his arms, his face, and even his back feel itchy under his clothes.

Ena (the only laguz in Soren’s unit) seemed extremely anxious, and he wondered if she was experiencing the same thing. But once she transformed into a pink dragon, it was hard to tell. She stomped between the trees, roared angrily, and shot jets of red flame. She was shorter than Nasir, and her vocalizations less ear-piercing. Her breath appeared less powerful as well, and Soren found himself wondering if this was a matter of age or tribe.

He kept an eye on her, and his watchfulness was as much a measure against treachery as it was to satisfy his own curiosity. When a feral red dragon approached their unit, Ena’s voice fell on them: “I will take this one.” Picking up speed with a couple thunderous steps, she clashed with the dragon, and they immediately started grappling for leverage. Soren and other others darted away from their thrashing tails.

The feral one was slightly shorter than Ena and (if Soren remembered correctly) shorter than the red dragons who’d moved their ship off the coast of Goldoa. It also looked different—more wyvern-like with its larger wings, thinner snout, and longer neck. The horns on its head and shoulders were smaller too. Soren suspected these must be effects of the forced transformation.

While Ena wrestled, the feral one fought like an animal, lashing out with its head, arms, and tail. It scratched her face with its wing claws and relentlessly bit her arms and side with its knife-like teeth. Despite its smaller size, it was clearly stronger, and every blow rattled the pink dragon.

But eventually she destabilized the feral one’s hindlegs and got it on its back, where she held it down. Opening her throat, Ena roasted the creature’s head with a sustained jet of red flame. When she stopped, it was not quite dead, but its eyes had melted, the inside of his mouth had been burnt raw, and much of its face had been burnt away, revealing pink flesh and shiny bone. It writhed weakly, but Ena lifted herself to standing and stomped twice on its skull to finish the kill. As with all feral laguz, this one didn’t revert its form when it died, leaving an eerily massive corpse.

Rolf and Boyd clapped excitedly when it was over. “Good show, Lady Ena,” Tauroneo congratulated her.

Ena shook her reptilian head. “More are coming.”

The vibrations rustling the forest floor were a clear indication of that. Two more dragons, a gray tiger, and a scrappy-looking hawk appeared. These were accompanied by their handlers—four Daein soldiers wielding spears and axes.

Ena took one dragon, and Soren the other. Rolf shot down the hawk quickly enough, Boyd faced the tiger, and Tauroneo challenged all of the soldiers to come at him at once. To Soren’s relief, his Elthunder spells seemed potent against these corrupted dragons, just as they would have been against a regular Goldoan. But even five strikes weren’t enough to kill it. When his task was done, Rolf raced to help him. The boy was equipped with a quiver of barbed arrows, which seemed to aggravate the feral ones more than regular projectiles, despite the fact that they no longer relied on magic to sustain their animal appearances. Beset on two sides, the dragon became agitated, moving back and forth between Soren and Rolf, snorting and growling.

Before the dragon was defeated, another tiger appeared, heading straight for him. Soren dodged and switched to Elfire. When the beast rounded on him—smelling of toxins and burnt hair—he dodged again, immolating the beast as it passed. The tiger was dead before it could attempt a third strike. Turning back to the dragon, Soren saw that Boyd had stepped up to take his place. The brothers worked together to knock the creature to the ground, where Boyd leapt onto its neck and slammed his axe into its skull with both arms, cleaving its brain in two. The dragon died with a low moan.

When all their opponents were dead, the unit collected itself and resumed its approach of the tower. After two more altercations, they finally reached it. Ike’s and Titania’s groups were already here, and while they fought in the tower’s periphery, the rest soon arrived.

The Daein commander looked panicked and sweaty. Most of the feral laguz were dead, leaving only his beorc garrison. “This isn’t good…” he whined, “They’re closing in! There aren’t enough Feral Ones. Someone! Anyone? Help! Go find Master Izuka at once!” One soldier ran into the tower, evidently glad to escape.

“I’m going after the leader,” Ike announced. “Cover me.” He charged, but before he could move more than a few steps, Tibarn dropped out of the sky and plowed the commander into the ground. He was probably already dead, but Tibarn continued to tear him to shreds until he was hardly recognizable as a human corpse. Only then did Tibarn revert his form. His face was covered in blood and his fury seemed unabated. Expelling a stream of the man’s blood, he wiped his arm along his mouth.

Seeing this display of savagery, the remaining soldiers dropped their weapons in unison and threw up their hands. Ike accepted their surrender and ordered that they be bound and sit in a huddle under close guard. When he demanded to know where Leanne was, the soldiers looked scared and confused, saying they hadn’t seen any feral herons. “What good would they be in battle anyway?” one had the audacity to say, which earned him a slap across the face from Reyson.

Tibarn laid a hand on the prince’s shoulder. “Do you still sense her?” he asked.

“There is corruption in the air… It makes it difficult. But I know she is close.”

“Then we’ll find her,” Ike assured and ordered the mercenaries to search the tower from top to bottom.

The smell and dizzy feeling were worse inside, and this wasn’t helped by the fact that Daein’s anti-laguz incense wafted in every cage—of which there were many. Each level was packed with them, included enormous ones on the first floor, which must have held the dragons. Soren suspected the sense-inhibited steam kept the feral laguz calm in their cells, but now it was inhibiting the laguz’s ability to search effectively.

As they went, the mercenaries smashed open every window they could find, trying to let in fresh air. Even if the incense didn’t affect the beorc, the smell of urine and feces was overpowering enough.

As they searched, they found recently-deceased scientists in their offices and non-feral laguz dead in their cells—all feathered with the same black-fletched arrows. Before long, they found the soldiers responsible, who were cowering in a closet and lost no time claiming they’d just been following orders. Apparently they’d been told to ‘clean up’ by killing the researchers and subjects alike. Furious, Ike ordered them to be brought outside with the other prisoners, but not before he asked about Leanne. Like the others, these also claimed to never have seen a heron, although one did mention the highest levels were off-limits to soldiers.

A spiral staircase led all the way to the top of the tower, and Ike and Reyson raced up it. Everyone else fanned out to the other floors, but Soren, Tibarn, and Ranulf were right behind them, albeit glancing down halls and opening doors along the way.

“Ike!” Ranulf called when they finally caught up. “Any sign of her?”

“No, I don’t see her anywhere,” Ike growled in frustration. “But there’s a cell with white feathers up here.” He led them to a small study on the top floor. It might have passed as a noble’s cozy library if not for the section partitioned by iron bars. Inside was a narrow bed, a table and chair, a water basin, and even a mirror. At least it looked more accommodating than Lillia’s prison.

Reyson was standing just within the cell’s open door. “Leanne…” he closed his eyes and clenched his fists. “Where have you gone?”

Soren was about to suggest they interrogate Ena when a figure appeared at the window. Considering they were twenty stories up, this was quite a feat.

“Hello, everyone. Are you having some sort of problem?” the visitor asked, lounging casually on the sill. Soren instantly recognized Naesala, King of Kilvas. (It was hard to forget someone who nearly killed you.)

“Naesala!” Reyson exclaimed, and it was hard to tell if he was relieved or furious.

“Oh, King Kilvas. How nice,” was Ike’s greeting. He had one hand on his sword hilt. Soren withdrew his tome.

Naesala didn’t seem concerned. “I believe I have what you seek right here.” He stepped into the room and reaching out a hand to help Leanne land on the sill behind him. The princess was smiling and began twittering happily in the ancient language.

“Leanne! You’re safe!” Reyson swept forward to embrace her tightly.

Ike still seemed cautious. “You? You rescued her?”

“Listen, and listen good.” Naesala warned. “I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings here. It was Tibarn!” He pointed an accusing finger at the Hawk King. “He forced me to do this. It wasn’t any sense of charity or anything. It was just…payment for the debt I had incurred.”

“I knew choosing you would pay off. Excellently done,” Tibarn said loftily.

Naesala scowled. “Flatter me all you like, Hawk King,” he said sarcastically, “You’ll get nothing in return. As promised, the Duke Tanas account has been completely settled.”

“Yes…on my part anyway.” He folded his arms. “Reyson, what do you think?”

He glared at the Raven King. “It will take a long time to forget you sold me to that disgusting human.”  

“Well then, I take my leave of you.” Naesala moved back toward the window. “Perhaps when our paths next cross, you will have forgiven me or found a new reason to despise me.”

“There’s no need to rush off, is there?” Tibarn stepped forward. “Since you’ve come all this way, why not stay and help us with King Daein?”

“What a splendid idea,” Ike grumbled. He was still gripping his sword.

“What?” Naesala laughed. “Enough of your nonsense. I prefer to keep my life intact, thank you.”

Leanne slipped in front of Naesala with her face scrunched into a pout. She said something in the ancient language that definitely sounded like a scolding.

“Listen to me, Leanne. I have no good reason to fight King Daein,” Naesala objected. He then repeated the sentiment in the ancient language: “*No reason allow Daein kill me*,” but his command of the dialect was clearly not fluent.

“No good reason?” Reyson repeated indignantly, stepping beside his sister. “And what about your fellow Kilvans? King Daein has taken their natural identity and warped it beyond repair.” He gestured sharply to the battlefield below.

“They left Kilvas of their own accord. How far should my responsibility for them extend?” Naesala shrugged.

“You…” Reyson growled.

Just then, Ena burst into the room. She was out of breath, apparently having run up all of the stairs. “Sir Ike, I am sorry to interrupt, but…” She hesitated when she saw Naesala.

“What is it, Ena?” Ike prompted her.

“I have something I need to show you,” she explained. “Will you please come to the basement?”

“This tower has a basement?” Tibarn asked in surprise.

“We have discovered a hidden staircase. What lies below is—” Ena shook her head “—unsettling.”

“Let’s go.” Ike released his sword and gestured for everyone to follow. Apparently he’d decided to trust Naesala for now. Soren followed his lead and returned his tome to the satchel hanging by his side.

The party made their way down the spiral stairs, and no one said a word. When they arrived at the bottom, Titania was guarding a trap door. Several mercenaries had gathered with curious expressions, but only Ike, Soren, Ena, Ranulf, the two herons, and the two kings were allowed to pass.

The basement was nearly pitch black, and the air was thick and close, infused with the unbearable smell of rot and death. The scent of old blood and fresh blood surged into Soren’s nostrils and churned his stomach. It smelled like an entire battlefield had been crammed into a dungeon and left to fester in the darkness.

Ranulf’s throat gave a low whine. Reyson swore and vomited; Tibarn patted his back. Leanne whimpered a word in the ancient language and fell into Naesala.

“What is that smell?” Ike asked. His breath was muffled like he was covering his mouth.

“It is…corruption,” was Ena’s reply.

“It’s too dark to see anything. We need a light,” Ike called above. Titania passed down an unlit torch.

“What, what is this?” Ranulf demanded in a hoarse voice. Soren’s eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness, but he had no doubt Ranulf could see all too clearly.

Ena said nothing.

“W-what is this…? Answer me!” Ranulf choked, grabbing her arm.

“Ranulf?” Ike placed a concerned hand on his friend’s shoulder. Soren slipped the torch from his other hand and whispered a spell to set it aflame.

“Laguz…” Ena finally answered. “At one time, they were…laguz.”

Soren passed the torch back to Ike, who strode forward and raised it high. Chains hung from the ceiling like vines and lay on the floors like snakeskins. Congealed blood pooled around drains clogged by clumps of hair and flesh. Jars of varying sizes lined the shelves against one wall, and in them floated all manner of organs and appendages. Mutilated corpses were piled against the walls or draped over benches. Sharp instruments—some rusted brown and some gleaming silver—hung on the walls or were scattered over tables and trays. On these same surfaces lay open the corpses of strange animals, strange people—something mutated and obscene.

Then Soren noticed the little bodies. They were unassuming compared to the monsters, but they attracted his attention most of all. Infants and fetuses not carried to term were lying side by side on a long table, where each had been cut open in a variety of ways. They bore no tails or wings, but on one’s mottled gray skin, Soren thought he saw the tracery of a Brand. He took an involuntary step toward it.

“This is…so horrible,” Ike said in a strangled voice.

His words served as permission for the rest to leave. Naesala pushed Leanne up first; then came Reyson and Tibarn, and then Ena, Ranulf, and Ike. They all spilled out of the dungeon as quickly as they could, but Soren lingered. Part of him wanted to get a closer look at the Branded infant, but the rest of him just wanted to leave like everyone else. He was the last to ascend.

Once they were back in the (relatively) fresh air of the tower’s main lobby, the rest of the mercenaries began asking overlapping questions. They wanted to know what was down there, what they’d seen. But the expression on Ike’s face soon silenced them.

“Let’s get back on the road,” he said, “and leave this cursed tower to oblivion.”

“What should about the Daein prisoners?” asked Boyd.

“Lock them in the cages,” was Ike’s answer.

Some of the mercenaries seemed stunned by Ike’s uncharacteristic cruelty (Mist most of all).

“But, what if no one comes for them?” Rolf asked nervously.

“Lock them in the cages,” Ike repeated, more firmly this time. He walked toward the exit. “We move out in fifteen.”

Naesala closed the distance between Ike and himself in three long strides. It seemed everyone (Soren included) had momentarily forgotten King Kilvas, and he and the others jumped to attention. But their fear was unnecessary; Naesala merely laid a hand on Ike’s shoulder.

“I will join you in Melior,” he declared softly.

Ike seemed surprised but then nodded. “We all have a reason to fight now, don’t we?”

 

Despite their exhaustion, the mercenaries rode through the night, refusing to make camp at the tower or anywhere near it. They arrived back at Fort Pinell before dawn, at which point most fell straight into bed. The sentries alerted Elincia, who awoke in a panic, meeting Ike in nothing but a nightgown and a robe, demanding to know what had happened to cause them to return so early.

She calmed slightly when she saw Leanne, who paid her respects to her fellow princess (although Elincia clearly didn’t understand a word of it). Elincia also welcomed King Kilvas as a fellow peer of the realm, although Soren could tell she wasn’t entirely happy about it. When this was done, Ike and Elincia retreated to a private parlor where he could tell her everything they’d discovered at Gritnea Tower. 

Soren, meanwhile, was dismissed. He turned in for some overdue rest but found he couldn’t sleep. The horror of that tower still seized his mind. He may not have considered himself a friend of laguz-kind, but he knew the difference between people, animals, and abominations. He knew a crime when he saw it.

Abomination. Crime against Ashera. Monster. Branded. Me. Disjointed thoughts and feelings ricocheted through his brain. He was the product of a union no more natural than those experiments. He was no less of a freak than the monsters whose misshapen bodies had sickened Ike’s face. He was as condemned to darkness as that gray little infant lying open on that table with its gray little brain exposed. Douse the light. Close the door. Forget what you saw. The voice in Soren’s head hardly sounded like his own. The scent of the dungeon wouldn’t leave his nostrils, and he imagined it was his own flesh he was smelling. He wondered if he was losing his mind.