Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ Fire Emblem Tellius Saga: Book 2 ❯ CHAPTER 51: PEACE ( Chapter 20 )

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

They arrived at the old fort a few days later and walked in to find a group of fifteen or so men and women had taken up residence inside (along with a family of rats and a brood of pigeons). Apparently, the bandits had been using the fort as their base while raiding the surrounding villages and farmland. The mercenaries made short work of scaring them off. The rats, on the other hand, would take longer. They set traps but didn’t bother buying poison; the pests would just return when they left again.

Everyone was glad to be back, even if things had changed. The fort was even more of a ruin than before, thanks to the damage from the battle, refuse from the bandits’ stay, and three years’ general neglect. The mattresses had deteriorated to almost nothing, and the extra furs and blankets had either been stolen or eaten by moths. The library where Greil had kept all the company’s records still contained ash from when he and Rhys had burned their old documents, but Greil’s books were still on the shelves. Evidently the bandits had had no interest in them.

Mist rolled up her sleeves and got to work cleaning, and Titania gave out orders left and right. Soon the fort was abuzz, and their activity felt like a reclamation of sorts. Gatrie and Oscar ventured into Arbor for news, as well as hay to feed the horses and stuff the mattresses. Shinon and Rolf entered the forest to hunt. Boyd set about fixing the handle on the well, and Rhys perused the books surviving in the library. Mia settled into Ike’s old room, and Ike settled into his father’s quarters. 

Soren wandered into the room that had once been his. His fingers found the scratches on the wall, and looking at them was like peering back in time. Closing the door, he took off his shoes, pressed his back against the wall, and met the rough stone with his fingertips. Turning carefully, he checked his height. In almost three years, he’d grown no more than a quarter inch, whereas Ike and Boyd had grown nearly a head taller each.

Soren wasn’t as dismayed as he once would have been. After talking to Stefan, he’d grown used to the expectation that he would lag far behind his comrades. How far behind was the real mystery. Maybe when we’re both thirty, Ike can teach me to shave, Soren mused. Or when we’re both fifty... This thought became less humorous as the seconds ticked by. How could he want me around then? Ike may have known the truth about his being a Branded, but that didn’t mean he understood what that meant.

With a shake of his head, he retied his sandals. There was no use worrying about the future now. Whatever happened, he would be prepared. He’d turned the majority of his pay from the Crimea job into credit by depositing it into a private account with the Imperial Bank of Begnion. It would sit accruing interest until he had need of it. As of now, however, he couldn’t imagine what he would need it for. 

  

After a week back at the fort, they received a visitor. Soren had never met this man, who introduced himself as, “Sir Craig of Persis, vassal of Duke Sephiran, Prime Minister of Begnion,” and it seemed no one else recognized him either. Unlike his pale-skinned, black-haired lord, he had dark skin and honey hair and seemed to actually hail from Persis. (Rather than Sephiran, an outsider who’d been gifted the prosperous duchy by Apostle Misaha).

“Persis is a long way from here. What brings you to Crimea?” Titania asked curiously.

“Indeed, it is difficult to be so far from home. I was traveling in service to Lord Sephiran while he first visited New Daein and then attended the coronation of Queen Elincia. I was to return home with my lord after the festivities, but a missive came from the capital that I should travel here instead. I am embarrassed to say I became quite lost.”

By now all the mercenaries had heard of the visitor and crowded into the briefing room to hear what he had to say. Judging by their faces, they wanted him to get on with it.

“Hey, Craig,” Ike prompted him. “So why were you ordered to come to us?”

“To offer you work of course!” he explained eagerly. “There is a pass to the south and east, through the mountains that divide Gallia and Begnion. Surely you know if it?”

Ike was clearly flabbergasted, and twisting to look at Soren and Titania, he practically glared at them. “If there’s a pass to Begnion, what did we sail all the bleeding way around Tellius for?” he demanded.

Titania raised her palms in appeasement. “King Caineghis advised against it,” she explained. “Ashnard had already seized Mugill—the fortress city which guards the pass—months before the war broke out.”

Now Ike glared at Craig. “Ashnard seized Begnion lands before the war, and no one ever thought to mention it?”

Craig looked embarrassed. “The way I understand it, there is a long tradition of banditry in those parts...”

“Banditry?” Soren repeated curiously.

“The capital cannot send a full army into that region for fear of accidentally inciting violence with the subhumans,” he explained, “so thieves, rapists, and murderers flock there. It is not something we wish the general citizenry to be aware of…”

“Sounds like quite the image problem.” Titania frowned unsympathetically. 

“And Daein?” Ike prompted him with an edge in his voice.

“Er, well, Daein’s men seized the forts without distinguishing banners nor armor. How were we to know?”

“Just like when they posed as pirates to attack the apostle’s ship,” Soren noted. “Ashnard was working to involve Begnion from the beginning.”

Ike sighed and rolled out the tension from his shoulders, which had spiked at the word ‘subhuman.’ “Alright then. What about this pass?”

“Well, actually there are two passes,” Craig corrected him. “Mugill stands between Begnion and Gallia, and a little to the north, Flaguerre stands between Begnion and Crimea. The contract is for-”

“Wait!” Now Ike was even more incensed. “If there’s a pass between Begnion and Crimea, why the hell did we invade Daein?”

Soren leapt to answer this one. “The pass doesn’t exist anymore. Due to landslides, it has been largely inaccessible for decades.” He turned to Craig. “Correct?”

Craig nodded. “Yes, I thought it was common knowledge…”

Soren didn’t appreciate the insinuation that Ike was uneducated (even if he was), so he pushed forward with his analysis of the situation: “Daein took Flaguerre as well, in order to maintain control of Mugill and keep Gallia cut off. It was a good strategy, but Ashnard’s ambitions for the beast nation died with him. What do you want us to do about it?”

Craig smoothed down his lavender tunic. “The way I understand it, the Daein soldiers do not wish to return to their homeland now that they have lost the war. And many of the local bandit tribes have their eyes on the fortress cities now that there is no threat of reinforcements. Meanwhile, of course, the Imperial Army would like to cleanse the region and retake the fortresses as soon as possible. But with the majority of the army currently enforcing peace in New Daein, there are few troops to be spared… Then there is the subhuman problem of course: no one wants to risk conflict with them.”

“More like ‘risk contact with them’,” Titania snorted angrily.

“Say ‘subhuman’ again and you’re out of here,” Ike added in a lowered voice. “They’re called laguz.”

Craig swallowed visibly and seemed to forget what he had been saying.

“So you want us to help you retake the cities.” Soren got the conversation back on track. “And you want us because we are on favorable terms with Gallia?”

“That is what the missive said, yes,” Craig agreed, elbows locked and hands in his lap like a scolded child.

Soren turned to Ike and Titania. “What do you think?”

Ike managed to force his frown into a small smile. “We said we’d like to visit Gallia again, right?”

“I think it would be a wonderful way to restart our business,” Titania offered.

“What about you, Soren?” Ike asked.

He turned back to Craig. “What’s the pay?”

“The missive offered two thousand gold pieces,” he answered promptly.

“Five thousand, and you pay us up front.”

Craig looked surprised. He glanced at Ike and Titania, obviously expecting them to take charge, but they said nothing.

“I have been authorized to raise the price to four thousand but no further,” Craig said uncomfortably, glancing from Soren to Ike to Titania.

“That will do,” Ike agreed.

Soren smiled inwardly. This man was certainly no negotiator. Begnion had only sent him because he was nearby, which meant they must really want those forts as soon as possible.

“Up front?” Soren prompted.

“Well, I don’t have the money with me…” the man explained, clearly uncertain what to do.

Soren sighed. “Send word ahead and have the gold ready at the border. We’ll collect when we get there.”

Craig seemed relieved. He pulled a contract from his satchel. Soren read it and filled in the necessary information. Then Ike signed it and shook Craig’s hand. The deal was done. Craig wasted no time returning to his servants and his carriage and continuing his journey home.

“Send word to Ranulf,” Ike told Soren as they watched the man trundle away. “See if he can spare a guide and safe passage.”

Soren composed the letter that evening. He also drafted one for Bastian, letting him know where they were headed. But he didn’t tell Ike about this, for fear of stoking his twisted feelings toward anything related to Queen Elincia.

The next morning, Titania rode out for Arbor, where the office for the Crimean Royal Post would hopefully be functional. Soren later saw a dot on the horizon and imagined it was a pegasus off to deliver their message to Gallia.

Titania returned some hours later with Rhys, whom she’d picked up on the way. He had spent the past few days with his sickly parents, both of whom had survived the war and were glad to have their son back. But Rhys was needed by the mercenaries again, and he was as loyal as any of them.

Everyone finished preparations and were ready to set out by mid-afternoon. As excited as they’d been to return to the base, no one seemed distressed about leaving again.  There was an air of steadfastness around them. They were mercenaries, and this was their livelihood.

  

Three blue cats from the same clan as Ranulf met them at the border with a letter apologizing that he couldn’t escort them personally. The laguz seemed torn between loyalty to their captain and their clear dislike and distrust of beorc, but they did their duty.

They must have recognized Soren as a Branded, however, because they ignored him the entire trip. Soren was frustrated and ignore them equally. The cats spoke little with any of the mercenaries and slept apart from them, so their treatment of him in particular wasn’t suspicious.

The cats bid them a cold farewell at the foot of Mugill Pass. The mercenaries then climbed through some densely forested hills until they could see the fortress city presiding over the highest point of the pass. They skirted it in the night and met up with a Begnion strike force of about fifty men in an encampment on the other side. After introducing themselves to the commander and receiving their pay, the mercenaries set up their own camp nearby, but Soren remained with the commander to analyze the situation more closely. His work began now.

 

Weeks of fighting between the ex-Daeins and the bandit tribesmen had turned the region into a bloodbath, and the stretch of land between the two fortresses had been trampled into well-worn battlefields. When Soren and the rest of the mercenaries toured the area, he saw hurriedly built (and apparently ineffective) catapults and battering rams lying in splinters: testaments to Begnion’s failure. The land around Mugill had been churned with trenches and earthen barricades, and much of the forest around Flaguerre had been burned. The mountain villages between them stood in charred shambles visible from the road. Some buildings were still smoking, and the people who’d lived there were nowhere to be seen. The Begnion commander explained that the locals had suffered serious casualties from being caught in the crossfire or coerced into serving one side or the other.

He also claimed the Greil Mercenaries had arrived at a relatively good time. The surviving Daeins mostly stayed in the cities these days, and the fighting between the bandits had mellowed. But the Begnion forces in the region had been depleted to just two groups of less than a hundred each, which wasn’t nearly enough to take a single fortress, let alone both. This was all Soren had to work with, but since they’d already been paid, he did his best to find a solution.

He knew there was one; it would just take time.

 

In fact, the campaign took just over two months. That being said, they were not terribly arduous months. Despite the impatience of the Begnion commander, Soren made certain careful reconnaissance and planning was employed to infiltrate the bandit clans and understand who was who and what was what. Before any major offensives, the villages (and even more important, their precious metal mines) were reclaimed and safeguarded from attack. Once the flow of ore was repaired from these outskirts to the mainland, more troops could suddenly be spared to aid them.

Untangling the bandit tribes from the innocent local tribes was another difficult task that couldn’t be rushed. After the first month had passed, Soren renegotiated the mercenaries’ pay.

In the meantime, the ex-Daeins within the fortresses were slowly being starved (along with the Begnion citizens still living inside—but Soren didn’t particularly care about them and apparently neither did the Begnion commander). This had been orchestrated by a covert team of soldiers who’d snuck inside and burned all of the food stores they could find before they’d been discovered and eliminated.

Once the regions around the fortresses had been fully secured, the ex-Daeins could no longer leave to appropriate food from the surrounding lands. As an added measure, Soren took care to eliminate messengers (human or pigeon) that tried to get from one city to the other. In the case of the messenger birds, Soren put Rolf on the task, and the young boy developed bloodshot eyes and a serious nervous blinking problem from staring at the sky for hours at a time, day and night. Until of course, Oscar cornered Soren and put a stop to it. He gave in only because he judged the prolonged lack of communication had already isolated and distressed the ex-Daeins.

 

As the weeks ticked by, Soren considered how this mission was unlike any during the war. Their numbers were more limited, obviously. Soren could only advise Ike how to deploy their eleven members and recommend how he might advise the Begnion commander in turn. But he didn’t have free reign, and he couldn’t rely on specialized units. His mind would sometimes turn to Tanith’s pegasus contingent, Largo’s cohort of berserkers, or the mages who’d flocked to Bastian like disciplines, but these were foolish thoughts. He didn’t have access to these people anymore. Speculating how they might fit into his plans, even for a second, was a waste of mental energy.

But there was one holdover from the war that did come in handy: Soren’s enhanced senses. He always had a good conceptualization of the battlefield, and this allowed him to make nuanced and timely adjustments to his strategy as long as he had Ike’s ear. And he almost always did. Thanks to his Branded sense, Soren could always tell where Ike was with acute accuracy. This allowed him to report to his side in an instant, send another mercenary to his defense, or shelter him from a salvo of arrows with wind magic. Ike was like a beacon, and Soren would do anything to keep it shining brightly.

 

When the time was ripe, the Begnion soldiers staged a diversion outside Mugill, and the mercenaries used a pully system to lift first Shinon, then Mia, and then Soren over a stretch of wall where the malnourished and depressed ex-Daeins had failed to maintain a watch. Everything was quickly handled from there. The trio snuck to the nearest gatehouse where they let Ike, the rest of the mercenaries, and the Begnion soldiers inside. The great cleanse Begnion had desired was soon achieved.

The next day, the head of Mugill’s commander was displayed to Flaguerre’s commander, who promptly surrendered. The Greil Mercenaries were paid, and they moved on.

 

For a few weeks, the mercenaries recovered in Gallia, travelling to and staying in the palace, where even Soren received tolerable treatment. While they were here, they were updated on the goings-on of Tellius, especially Crimea. The gist of it was that Elincia was preforming reasonably well as queen, and Gallia was aiding Crimea’s reconstruction as promised.

As for the east, Begnion had replaced Daein copper pieces with Begnion paper credits as the standard currency. The exchange rate had previously been a hundred copper or ten credits to one gold piece. But now a thousand copper pieces were equivalent to one only Begnion credit, while the value of the credit remained the same in relation to gold and silver. As a result, almost all native Daeins were now living in poverty. Even nobles were sent reeling from the changes, especially since they were being heavily taxed. The excuse was to aid the repair of their nation’s infrastructure after the war, but Soren expected the real reason was to eliminate the concept of Daein nobility at all. They would be forced to sell their lands and their assets, making room for entrepreneurial Begnion men and women to sweep in and seize everything.

That being said, Daein infrastructure was being improved. Apparently a wide road was being built all the way from Tor Garen to Nevassa so Begnion would have unprecedented access to the heart of Daein. The road would cut through mountains, wastes, swamps, and farmlands. The nobles heading the project spread propaganda calling the road ‘a symbol of the Crimean-Begnion conquest of Daein, and the long year our armies marched across its inhospitable land.’

Hearing this clearly soured Ike’s mood. Soren wasn’t happy either. Ike’s name and his role as the heroic young general of those armies was nowhere in the narrative. (Then again, Soren suspected that may not have been why Ike was upset.)

 

While at Castle Gallia, notices came for the Beast King and heron siblings from Tibarn. To Ike’s surprise, a letter came for him as well.

“King Phoenicis and King Kilvas have agreed to a truce between the hawk and raven tribes,” Ike translated from the note while sitting in one of the castle’s plush sitting rooms, lit by the glow of the hearth fire, “to ‘heal the rift between them’. And they’re proposing that the beast, heron, and dragon laguz enter this pact too. This ‘Laguz Alliance’, they call it, will represent a new era when all laguz are united… Tibarn says that if the war has shown anything, it’s that this is possible.” Apparently finished, Ike ran his eyes over the letter again before handing it to Titania. “Do you think the other laguz will join?” He seemed to be addressing her and Soren.

“I have no doubt the heron tribe will agree,” Titania answered while skimming the text, “Prince Reyson and King Lorazieh have enjoyed the hawk’s hospitality for years, and their surviving people live on the southern side of the island. As for the Beast King, he is less predictable, but I have a feeling he will join.”

“I agree,” Soren said. Twisting Tibarn’s words, he continued: “The war taught the laguz tribes lessons about fear and strength they’ve not learned in generations.” Pausing a moment, he added, “Though, I doubt the dragon tribe will join the alliance. I am sure Tibarn knows this as well and the invitation was merely a formality.”

Ike nodded. “The Greil Mercenaries have been invited to attend the party in Phoenicis.”

“A party!” Mia, Mist, and Gatrie exclaimed happily.

“What?” Shinon snapped in surprise.

Soren frowned pointedly.

“Tibarn said it wouldn’t be a formal invite. Apparently not all the hawks like the idea of a bunch of beorc sailing to their island for nothing but a good time.” Ike shrugged. “He said it would be disguised as a job—we’d be hired to escort the Gallian representatives.”

“No way am I getting myself trapped on bleeding bird island!” Shinon spat.

“Sailing? Again?” Mia pouted.

“Disguised as a job,” Soren repeated, just as Titania finally handed him the letter. “Will it pay?”

Ike grinned. “Fifteen-hundred gold for the trip there, another fifteen-hundred for the trip back. Plus all provisions and lodgings for the duration of the stay will be covered by the Phoenician crown.”

“Hmph.” Shinon’s expression softened. “Doesn’t sound too bad, with those numbers attached.”

“And if Gallia doesn’t agree to the truce?” Titania asked.

Ike shrugged. “Then there’s no job. But for now, let’s assume there is. Who’s in?”

Everyone raised their hands (Shinon reluctantly).

Ike smiled. “Looks like we might be going to Phoenicis.”

“We must be the first beorc to visit in well over a century,” Titania added. “This is a high honor!”

“We’re hired muscle,” Shinon corrected her. “Honor’s got nothing to do with it.”

  

Caineghis accepted the invitation and sent three high-ranking members of his court—a lion, a tiger, and a cat—to attend the ceremony. Each had fifteen or so guards, family members, and attendants coming with them. The beasts traveled light, carrying only the few items they needed and hunting at their leisure. Sometimes they walked in human form, other times they trotted along in their animal forms.

After a few days, five extracted themselves from the company and approached Ike, telling him they’d fought under his command during the war. They bowed low in respect, and Ike accepted their genuflecting with more awkwardness than poise. But other than these few, most of the laguz ignored their beorc escort, especially the three beast lords. After several weeks in Gallia, the Greil Mercenaries were used to being ignored and stared at in equal measure—Soren especially. He would be glad when this mission was over, but that was still months away.

They were heading back to Crimea: the only place the Gallians could board a ship. Oscar and Titania left the group to run ahead and arrange transport in Toha. They would need two speedy ships to carry the forty-five laguz and eleven mercenaries, plus two crews and two captains willing to sail to Phoenicis.

Ike refused to ask Elincia for any aid, and Soren considered writing to Bastian and asking him to pull some strings. But as they neared the Crimean border, Oscar returned saying everything had been arranged. Apparently Titania had found one captain who’d been a volunteer soldier in the rebellion and another whose friends had returned from the war with stories of training and fighting beside laguz. The pair was unafraid (and perhaps even eager) to embark on this unprecedented journey, and many of their crew members felt the same.

This surprised and irritated Soren, to whom it seemed unreasonable that attitudes would change so quickly. Millenia of fear and prejudice didn’t just evaporate. It isn’t fair, Soren found himself thinking, although he couldn’t say what exactly was unfair about it.

  

Two beast lords and half of the Gallian attendants took one ship, and the third lord and the other half of the attendants took the other. The mercenaries divided themselves between the two in order to maintain an equal guard (however thin) over each vessel. Ike led one garrison, with Soren as his deputy, and Titania led the other with Mist at her side. Ike was reluctant to let Mist out of his sight for weeks at a time, but the young woman asserted that she could best serve him as an extension of his authority on the other ship. 

Every ten days, they laid anchor and placed planks between the vessels so the guard could be changed. Sometimes Soren changed places with Mist, supporting Titania instead, and at these times he felt oddly relieved. When the ships sailed far from one another, Soren had no sense of Ike, and this void—in constrast with his otherwise constant awareness of the man—was unexpectedly comforting. After all, they weren’t fighting anyone right now, and Soren’s inability to suppress his Branded sense was starting to become annoying.

 

They sailed for almost two months before the peaks of Phoenicis appeared on the horizon. By this time, everyone was restless and eager to disembark, and the beast-men were especially antsy.

There were no known safe harbors and certainly no docks on Phoenicis, so the beorc captains anchored offshore and the crew rowed the laguz and mercenaries to a pristine beach. Soren and Ike were in the first group, and as they were ferried over the water, they each gazed up at the sky, watching hawks gliding in the distance. “They must know we’ve arrived,” Ike noted.

The rowboat collided with the sand, and the beast laguz immediately hopped over the side. Soren and Ike stretched their legs with a walk along the beach while the Gallians transformed and began romping in the soft sand and gentle waves like kittens. Only the cat lord who’d ridden in the second rowboat and two of his guards refused to partake in the play. They stood stoically, even while their tails flicked wistfully and their feet flexed into the sand.

The rowboats returned to the ships for another load, and several dark shapes and one white one appeared over the trees. A moment later, Tibarn, Reyson, and a few hawk laguz Soren didn’t recognize landed on the beach.

“Welcome, Ike.” Tibarn grasped forearms with the young commander. “Welcome Lord Vereghis.” He inclined his head politely to the cat lord, who bowed more deeply in return.

Reyson repeated these welcomes. Of course, he, his sister, and his father had flown to Phoenicis and arrived long ahead of the mercenaries and beast laguz.

“You’ve made good time,” Tibarn said. “The festivities begin in five days.”

“The weather was fair,” Ike offered with a smile.

“How did you like sailing, Lord Vereghis?” Tibarn turned to the proud cat.

“It disagrees with my men,” the lord replied, then adding politely. “But to ensure a strong alliance among laguz, it shall be endured.”

“We’ll have to meet in Gallia next time,” Tibarn laughed. 

The cat lord gave a relieved nod.

“And the mercenaries,” Tibarn turned to Ike and Soren. “Glad you could come. How’s everyone?”

“Glad to have work,” Ike answered, “And glad to see old friends.”

“Well met.” Tibarn chuckled. “Janaff, Ulki, and Leanne are anxious to see the Greil Mercenaries again. They’re waiting back at Phoenicis Castle now.” Tibarn then addressed the assembled laguz, Ike, and Soren together: “We of the bird tribes make our homes high in the mountains. We don’t walk the forests between here and there, so there are no roads nor paths. I hope you’re ready for some bush-whacking.”

And one hell of a hike, Soren added mentally, sizing up the mountains in the distance. He had anticipated this problem, and he wasn’t fond of the prospect of two days’ arduous travel. Untamed wilderness was no stranger to the Gallians, who merely shrugged at Tibarn’s words. Ike, on the other hand, looked as uncertain as Soren felt.

Reyson gestured for Tibarn’s attention and whispered something into his ear.

Raising an intrigued eyebrow, Tibarn addressed Ike and Soren: “If the beorc don’t mind being carried, we could speed things up considerably.”

“Carried?” Ike repeated in surprise. He glanced at the high mountains and seemed to pale.

“We accept,” Soren said, before he could refuse, and Ike looked even more surprised that Soren had spoken for him.

Tibarn was clearly excited by this new plan, smiling like an overgrown child. He signaled for his attendants to take to the skies. “We will return with more men,” he said, before beating his wings and taking off.

“Why did you agree?” Ike asked, looking a bit frazzled.

“It was the obvious decision,” Soren replied. “It could take days to reach the castle by foot. And at night we would risk serious injury on the treacherous terrain.”

Ike immediately deflated, apparently resigned to accept this truth.

“Besides, don’t all beorc wish to know what it’s like to fly?” Soren mused.

“Not me!” He shook his head. “Wait, do you?”

Soren’s first thought was that he wasn’t beorc, but of course this wasn’t the time nor place to remind Ike of that. “It may pose an interesting tactical maneuver. I believe the potential of flight ought to be explored.”

Ike laughed nervously. “Of course, you’d say that.”

  

The mercenaries were flown to castle Phoenicis while the ships’ crews stayed in temporary shelters on the beach. Titania and Oscar left their horses with the sailors as well.

With no time to put together harnesses, the mercenaries were carried by their shoulders with nothing put a bit of makeshift padding to blunt the hawks’ claws. Their supplies were carried separately. With his legs dangling far above the treetops and wind whipping his hair and robes, Soren found the experience both exhilarating and terrifying. The hawk’s talons were uncomfortably tight on his shoulders, but the pain made him feel more secure. Soren forced his body to go limp, imagining he were some dead mouse or fish picked up by a bird of prey. He watched the island unfold below him. His ears popped when the hawks reached the mountains and ascended even higher.

A city appeared before him—a city of strange buildings etched into the sides of cliffs with rarely a trail between them. The sky grew crowded with hawks and ravens. Old men and women glided slowly while young children attempted tricks at great speed. The mercenaries’ hawks gently lowered them into a courtyard at the center of Phoenicis Castle, where Leanne clapped at their arrival.

Mia and Rolf each bowed theatrically, but Ike and Rhys seemed about to faint. Shinon was obviously uncomfortable, crossing his arms and sulking. Gatrie, Boyd, and Oscar all seemed a bit dazed. Mist was elated, bouncing on her heels and profusely thanking the hawk who’d carried her, while Titania thanked hers as well, albeit in a more reserved fashion.

Tibarn and Reyson soon landed beside them. “I suppose that takes care of the tour of the island!” the Hawk King laughed.

 

The celebration of the Laguz Alliance was designed to fall on an auspicious week: that of the bird tribes’ autumn festival. Countless flying competitions and performances were held, and a ceaseless feast of food and drink was served. Several of the traditional activities were adapted for the beorc and beast guests, and additional events were added such as footraces and wrestling matches. There was music too, sometimes played by full orchestras and other times drifting down from a solitary lute-player on a perch. In the evenings, ancient hawks and ravens came together to sing the histories of their tribes, and for the first time, Soren heard stories of lands and people outside Tellius. A few of the heron refugees—fair people with silver hair and gray wings—also participated in the festivities by performing a dance that involved swiftly changed from their animal to human forms in the air and on the ground. Leanne and Reyson also sang galdr, enchanting an entire garden into bloom, but their father was apparently too sick to show himself.

Of the elderly laguz who did come spectate, the vast majority ignored Soren. But the younger ones didn’t seem to mind him. As the mercenaries were special guests of the king, they had to be polite. Soren was grateful for this. He’d spent weeks at sea imagining all manner of excuses he would have to use if the hawks treated him differently than the rest.

When the celebrations were finally over, one ship returned to Crimea laden with most of the beast laguz (including two of the three beast lords). The other, laden with the mercenaries and a small envoy of laguz, embarked for Begnion. A group of three hawks and two ravens flew ahead, and together these laguz comprised the envoy that would notify the empire of the Laguz Alliance’s ratification. If Sanaki and the senate agreed to acknowledge the alliance, they would also serve as ambassadors to the court. Once again, the mercenaries were serving as an escort, and they were being paid a pretty penny for their services.

 

“We’ve spent a lot of time among laguz the past few months,” Ike said one day on deck. “And you’ve been quiet. That’s a long time be quiet.”

“There is no privacy on this ship. Not among laguz,” Soren replied brusquely, “Please do speak of such things to me here.” He quickly left Ike’s side and hoped he understood his meaning. It wasn’t safe to mention his Branded nature in such cramped quarters. But even more than that, Soren had been caught off guard by Ike suddenly broaching the subject. They hadn’t spoken of his parentage since the war ended.

As Soren walked to the opposite end of the ship just to be as far from Ike as possible, he considered his words. After a moment’s thought, he had to admit Ike hadn’t actually alluded to Soren’s mixed blood. Perhaps all he’d intended to do was point out Soren’s increasingly antisocial behavior, or perhaps chastise him for what must seem like stubbornly-held prejudices. He realized he’d been wrong to assume and wrong to act rashly on that assumption.

He stopped when he came to the to the aft gunwale and placed his hands on the polished yet salt-splashed wood. Taking a deep breath, he tried to ignore Ike’s presence thirty yards behind him. The war had ended, but Soren’s laguz-like senses remained. His acute sense of Ike’s presence had been a great advantage on the battlefield, but now it felt like a curse. After so many weeks at sea, then on an island, now again at sea, there was no ignoring him—there was no getting away from him.

Why would I want to get away from him? Soren wondered, but he found no answer. Ike was his friend and commander, and to him, Soren held the utmost loyalty. But why, then, did he want to put as much distance between them as possible?

  

Eventually they arrived in a minor port on Begnion’s western coast. The laguz wore long cloaks with deep, heavy hoods to hide their ears and tails. Although Sanaki had cracked down on illegal slaveholding, that didn’t mean her people had suddenly developed respect or compassion for laguz-kind.

The beast laguz enjoyed the feeling of solid ground under their feet again, but they didn’t transform as they had on Phoenicis. They remained close to the Greil Mercenaries, impatient for their next move. The raven and hawk members of the envoy had flown straight to the capital to make introductions and arrange transport for their beast brethren. Once everyone was ashore, Ike first checked with the harbormaster and then with the nearest Imperial Army outpost. But neither knew of any carriage here to pick up foreign emissaries.

Ike dismissed the Crimean sea captain and his crew, who would putter around the coast for a few days to resupply and pick up any goods and passengers heading to Crimea. Titania checked the mercenaries and laguz into a local inn. Night fell, and everyone looked forward to sleeping in a real bed. Even the Gallians groaned happily at the thought, and Soren was no longer surprised at their predilection for what he’d long assumed were solely human luxuries. Obviously laguz enjoyed comfortable furniture as much as any beorc.

When quarters were being assigned, Soren wanted to take the room farthest from Ike, but he had no such luck. The three women were given one small room, the three brothers another, and the laguz (ten of whom had accompanied them to Begnion) filled a large suite. That left Soren, Ike, Gatrie, Shinon, and Rhys in the last room and his plan to distance himself from Ike summarily foiled.

Unable to bear it, he slipped away after everyone had fallen asleep and walked down to the harbor. Even at night, this place was awake and alive. The tide was high, and some ships were casting off into the moonlit sea. Others were just now returning, each laden with fish. It was mid-autumn, but this far south, the night air had only a small bite. Sailors and dockhands warmed themselves by braziers between tasks, but Soren didn’t mind the cold. Ike was out of his range, and he could finally breathe.

 

The next day, the carriages arrived to take the laguz to Sienne, and the Gallians and mercenaries parted ways. Ike shook the hand of the lion lord, and there seemed to be an air of mutual respect between them. Titania, Mia, Mist, and Rolf shared hugs with some of the other laguz—apparently having made friends these past months without Soren noticing. Shinon was nowhere to be seen of course, but Gatrie was here. He and Boyd were also shaking hands (or perhaps arm wrestling) with a pair of tigers they’d often sparred with on deck. Oscar was speaking in hurried, hushed tones with one of the lord’s servants. Soren eavesdropped for a moment and quickly ascertained that he was relaying the recipes for meals he’d prepared during the voyage.

Soren waited to the side and wished he’d remained at the inn with Shinon instead of attending this surprisingly emotional send-off.

 

The mercenaries stayed in the town for five days, gathering information about possible jobs, trying the local delicacies, and tending their weapons and armor, which hadn’t seen a proper blacksmith since Crimea.

They were free to wander, and Soren did so. He often napped during the day after exhausting himself at night, when he exploring the port town and villages just beyond its borders. It was a wonderful relief to be away from Ike—his resplendent young commander whom it was so hard to look at and yet who made it even harder to look at anything else.

Soren always turned around well before dawn, and his acute sense of direction would bring him the quickest way back to the inn. Shinon, Gatrie, or anyone whose bed had been empty before he departed would be breathing softly when he returned. They often stayed up late buying a woman’s time at a brothel, catching comedic sideshows in the plaza, or losing track of time at the local music hall or in any one of the town’s surprisingly numerous taverns. The others knew he didn’t waste his coin on such frivolities, and yet no one ever asked him where he disappeared to on his nightly ventures.

 

Eventually the days in this town reached their end; there was no work here. They would head south to larger ports where piracy was more common. Soren was glad to be moving on, but this also meant there would be little to no escape from Ike on the road.

The first day of travel was tolerable, but that night when the mercenaries slept together in just a couple tents, Soren couldn’t sleep at all. Ike was a barb in his mind, a beacon that shone through his closed eyelids. Even his scent was effusive. Their lives weren’t in danger anymore; he knew that. He also realized laguz must have methods of controlling their senses (and it wasn’t as if he wasn’t trying). But he still couldn’t smother the instinct he’d developed during the war. 

When dawn finally came, Soren asked Ike for a word outside, away from everyone else. He seemed confused but curious. He had sleep gunk in his eyes and an imprint on his cheek from sleeping on his arm. His face was frosted with uneven stubble, a darker blue than his hair, which flopped just above his eyes. Despite his morning grogginess, he looked good: solid, healthy, well-rested, well-fed, at peace. Soren was glad to see him this way, and it was a reminder that life was better now that the war was over. But this didn’t change what he was about to say.

“I would like to take a leave of absence from the company,” he announced, when they were far enough from the others. “Effective immediately.”