Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ Fire Emblem Tellius Saga: Book 2 ❯ CHAPTER 64: DAYBREAK ( Chapter 33 )

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

“How did Bastian even know where to find us?” Ike asked, staring into the fire. He pressed his elbows into his knees as he held his clasped hands against his bottom lip. His brow was furrowed in distress. “And the idea of a civil war in Crimea—it can’t be true, can it?”

The Greil Mercenaries had set up camp early in order to fully consider Bastian’s offer. Soren, Ike, Titania, and Mist were sitting at one fire, discussing the letter, while the rest of the mercenaries sat at another, keeping an eye on the mysterious messenger (who appeared quite calm under their gaze).

“It is certainly concerning,” Titania agreed. “We have been so careful these past months not to breathe the name Greil Mercenaries.”

“Does it matter?” Mist asked. “If Crimea is in trouble, we should just be happy he found us in time.”

“I still don’t like it,” Ike growled. “I mean, we’re in the middle of nowhere!” He gestured sharply at the surroundings trees.

Soren took a deep breath. He’d always intended to reveal his duplicity if Bastian ever called on them, and apparently that time was now. The sooner he could put this confusion to rest, the sooner they could truly discuss the count’s offer. “Bastian’s intelligence is my doing,” he said. “I have been sending him coded messages indicating our locations and destinations on a regular basis since leaving Melior four years ago. I apologize for the deception, but I reasoned that…” The fury burning in Ike’s eyes robbed him of his words, causing him to trail off. He suddenly doubted himself, wondering if his letters to Bastian had been a worse betrayal than he’d realized.

“You what?” Ike demanded.

“The day of Elincia’s coronation,” Soren explained, trying to keep his voice reasonable, “he asked that I feed him our location so that he may find us and offer us a job if the need arose.” 

Titania and Mist both looked surprised, but neither seemed as offended as Ike, which made his reaction even more confusing. Even when Soren and Ike disagreed, he never looked at him this way. No matter how frustrated Ike might have felt, he’d never looked at him with such anger. The glare took Soren’s confidence away, and he struggled to hold onto what was left.

“All this time—” Ike shook his head “—you’ve been working for Elincia? I never thought… No, I thought I had your loyalty.”

“O-of course you do.”

“Then how do you explain yourself? We agreed to distance ourselves from the queen! We agreed it was best for Crimea not to get involved in the transition. But you’ve been serving her this whole time!”

Titania tried to intervene. “Now Ike, that’s not entirely fair…”

Soren raised both his hands as if Ike were a wild beast he could tame. He was starting to understand why Ike was reacting this way—it was Elincia. He must still be heartsore over her (despite his claims otherwise) and now his pride was hurt. “Bastian promised the queen would not know,” Soren assured. “He was in agreement that we should stay away. My contact was just an insurance arrangement, in case something happened. Which, clearly, it has.”

Ike didn’t seem convinced. He remained standing, clenching his jaw.

“Elincia never knew our location,” Soren clarified. “She could not have called upon us if she wanted to. It is Bastian—and only Bastian—who summons us now. Read the letter again; I believe he makes that clear.”

Ike’s jaw twitched, and Soren hoped that meant he saw the logic in his words even if he wasn’t ready to release his anger. “If you think yourself so innocent, why did you keep your dealings with Bastian secret this whole time? That girl in Sienne, was she really a spy? How many more of his agents have you met?”

“No, actually, that was entirely unrelated-” he attempted to excuse himself, but Ike cut him off.

“Is lying really as easy as breathing for you?” he hissed, and Soren could hear the hurt under his fury.

Taking a calming breath, Soren tried to fend off his panic. He was afraid of alienating Ike and losing his trust. He tried to think of the right thing to say, but every thought that came into his mind felt like another lie.

Fortunately Mist came to his rescue. “Ike!” she scolded, “That’s not right.”

This seemed to have an effect on him, and he calmed slightly. Soren seized this chance to deliver a finishing blow: “I see now that I made too light of this arrangement,” he began, hoping that would suffice as a genuine apology. “But I do not regret my actions. I do not like nor trust Bastian, as I have made clear on previous occasions.” He paused a moment, willing Ike to remember that fact. He didn’t interrupt him, which was a good sign. “Neither do I hold vows to the queen nor a patriotic obligation to the nation of Crimea. I agreed to give Bastian the information—free of charge—because I considered it a service to you and the company. For my efforts, Bastian is now offering us a well-paying job. We should consider it, regardless of the mechanism by which it came into our hands.”

Ike crossed his arm, not looking happy but not looking infuriated anymore either. “Fine,” he said, “You’re off the hook for now, but we’ll have to come up with some sort of punishment. Leaking confidential information outside the company is against your contract, you know.”

“Cut my wages if you must,” he said, “It will not happen again.”

Mist released an audible sigh of relief.

“Tsk tsk,” Titania admonished, “I do hope you learn from this.”

“Lecture me later.” He shook his head and felt suddenly exhausted.

Titania drew her hands together. “At any rate, now that we know the how, we can focus on the why.” She looked to Ike expectantly.

Clearing his throat, he seemed to summon his bearing as a commander. “If Bastian’s assessment is correct, Crimea is headed toward civil war and Elincia is at risk of losing her throne. I don’t want to let that happen.”

“Agreed!” Titania declared. “But what we can accomplish that her own loyal subjects cannot?”

“I’m sure Lord Bastian has a plan,” Mist countered, sounding hopeful. “I just don’t know why he didn’t tell us here…” She gave the unfolded letter a perplexed glance.

“For ten-thousand gold pieces,” Soren interjected, “We should at least meet with the second agent he speaks of. Perhaps then the details will become clearer.”

Ike nodded resolutely. “I’ll bring it to the rest of the group for a vote, but I don’t doubt they’ll agree. We fought too hard for Elincia just to abandon her now.”

Titania and Mist cheered, and Soren wondered what was going through Ike’s mind. Since stifling the flames of his anger, his eyes had become guarded. Soren couldn’t read them.

  

The rider led them west for a day and a half, until they were quite near the Crimean border. The elevation climbed steeply here, but at the base of the mountain they entered a clearing containing an old hunting cabin and a few tents. In the past couple miles, Soren had sensed at least three scouts and heard several out-of-place bird calls that were surely broadcasting their arrival.

Therefore, he wasn’t surprised when Bastian’s agent was standing in the clearing waiting for them; but he was certainly surprised to see that the agent was Bastian himself.

“Greetings, brave mercenaries!” sang the man, throwing his arms wide.

Ike and Titania pulled their horses to a halt, and everyone else staggered to a stop around them, fanning out to get a look at the Crimean noble.

His yellow hair was grayer than before, but it and his mustache and goatee were as finely groomed as ever. His emerald cloak had been exchanged for a more earthy green one, and he was lacking any of the golden adornments he’d worn in Melior. His subordinates were dressed in the same simple style, and although they weren’t obviously armed, Soren had little doubt they carried concealed weapons.

“Bastian,” Ike said, dismounting. He couldn’t hide his surprise. “Why are you here?”

Bastian put his hands on his hips and laughed. “The visage of stupefaction I see before me would be reward enough to justify the arduous journey!”

The rest of the mercenaries dropped from their saddles, stretching and grimacing. For Soren at least, the grimace was less from the hard ride and more from having to hear Bastian’s voice again.

“Would be,” Ike repeated, “but it’s not. You didn’t come all this way just to surprise us.” He stepped forward and shook Bastian’s hand.

The sage eyed him from head to toe. “You have grown well, o’ slayer of the mad king. Indeed I espy a shred of wit in you yet.”

Soren and Titania approached, and from this angle Soren could see Ike’s face screw up as he seemed to determine whether this was a compliment or an insult. In the meantime, Bastian kissed the back of Titania’s hand. “A gracious reunion this is, Captain Titania,” he greeted her.

“Well met, Lord Bastian.” She gave a formal bow as soon as he released her hand.

Soren didn’t offer his hand, let alone a bow, but Bastian turned to him anyway. “Ah, Mister Soren,” he greeted him, “in fine fettle as ever, I see.”

Soren just glared back, still irritated at the count for getting him in trouble with Ike.

“Shall we retire indoors?” Bastian gestured at the cabin. “The lodging may be modest, but there is tea to be found beyond those stodgy walls.”

Ike turned to the rest of the mercenaries. “Rest up out here!” he ordered, “Mist’s in charge.”

Everyone saluted or at least gestured that they’d heard him as they continued to ease their tight legs and backs. Soren followed Ike, Titania, and Bastian into the cabin.

The windows were open to the warm summer breeze, and Bastian served them fruit tea from a glass pitcher and even threw in few chunks of ice. Despite traveling in disguise, the noble clearly wanted to live in luxury. Soren was fairly certain he was just squatting in this cabin temporarily, and yet he’d fitted it with soft blankets, china plates, and a nice rug. (He even asked the trio remove their shoes at the door).

Lounging at the table in the center of the room, with cup in hand, Bastian finally explained his presence in Daein: “Dear Queen Elincia’s peers in the court have been testing and trialing her since the first hour of her historic ascendance,” he lamented. “Her youth, although inspiring to the people and quite lovely to gaze upon, was easy pray for those wolves in silk clothing.” He sighed mournfully but then glanced up with a grin, “But the queen had a wily old dog at her side.” He gestured flamboyantly at himself. “Together we fended off her many foes.”

He paused (perhaps waiting for praise), but Ike just asked, “So why did you leave her alone?”

“Loathe I was to do it!” Bastian draped himself across the table. “But, alas, it had to be done. To draw the wolves from their den, we must convince them the forest is safely theirs for the taking.” He picked himself up again, looking quite somber.

Soren had had enough of these theatrics. “You removed yourself to decrease the queen’s authority. But for how long? The court wouldn’t be so bold as to threaten her just because you disappeared for a couple weeks.”

Bastian nodded twice in quick succession. “It has been far too long since I last gazed upon the face of our fair queen,” he sighed. “Two months past, I departed as a special ambassador to the new Daein regency. My task now complete, I shan’t be returning to my blessed homeland. Nay, Crimea I cannot see until these threats are quite defeated.”

Titania rubbed her chin speculatively. “If you haven’t returned yet, those noble you spoke of could already be scrambling for power.”

“My agents of whispers report the very same,” Bastian agreed. “All I have predicted has come to pass.”

“So Crimea is really headed toward civil war?” Ike said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“How many of the royal houses have turned against the queen?” Soren asked. “Have they formed alliances yet”

Bastian nodded and held up all his fingers. “Families Ridell, Fayre, and Delbray shall remain loyal to the crown.” He waggled three fingers on his right hand. “Duke Ludveck of Falirae plays the role of chief agitator in this game, and no more or less than three other holds support him.” He clamped down four of the fingers on his left hand. “The remaining three families have yet to choose their sides, but these cowards are perhaps no more threatening than they are useless.” He threw up his hands and shrugged. “As for the masters of minor holds, they are but toddlers mimicking the gamboling of older children. They shall divide along similar lines, albeit more sloppily and without conviction.”

“What kind of forces are we dealing with here?” Ike asked, leaning in.

Bastian splayed his hands on the table top. “The core of the Royal Knights shall remain loyal to her majesty with the valiant Commander Geoffrey at their head.” He gestured to invisible miniature forces only he could see. “A coalition of civilians and my own agents shall defend her from the shadows, led by the talented Lady Lucia.” In the middle of the table, he pressed both hands down equally. “The laboring men and women of the Crimean Army shall raise their arms at the behest of the regional lords who spur their insecurities, but those whose hearts cannot be twisted so easily will flock to the capital in support of their queen.” He moved onto the final portion of the invisible army. “The resentments of the poor will manifest in the militia, of whom some blame the lords and others the crown for their sorrows.”

Everyone was silent for a few moments as they considered Bastian’s evaluation. Soren agreed with his predictions; they were obvious enough. “Felirae neighbors Melior,” he thought aloud, because no one had responded yet. “With a decisive strike, Ludveck could isolate Queen Elincia and end her reign before her allies can reach her. It all depends on how quickly he can galvanize his followers.”

“The hour is not so late as you fear,” Bastian countered calmly. “When Duke Felirae gazes into his mirror, he sees a hero of the people. He will not strike without them.”

“How long do we have?” Ike demanded, not sharing Bastian’s calm tone. “And where can we find this Ludveck guy?”

A knowing, close-lipped smile stretched across Bastian’s face. “Hold, o’ fervid lad,” he cautioned. “Killing Duke Felirae will avail us nothing. The law and naught but the law must disarm him.”

Ike frowned. “So we bust through his guards and arrest him. We can turn him over to Geoffrey after that.”

Bastian laughed. “As refreshing as the dawn, such naivete has not graced my ears in some time.”

Ike sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “What do you want us to do then?”

“Have patience,” Bastian answered, raising a single finger, “Accept this contract and fly fast to Crimea. Find there a marvelous person, whom I am proud to call my deputy. She shall know when and where the Greil Mercenaries are to make their stand.”

“Is it that you don’t know the job or you don’t want to tell us?” Soren asked in annoyance. “We do not accept open-ended contracts.”

Bastian leaned his chin against his interwoven fingers. “Even I cannot foretell what fruits this treachery may bear, but I would beg of you, brave mercenaries, snatch victory away from these traitors’ mouths if ever they are so close as to taste it!” His eyes were dead serious despite his tone and body language.

“You want us to be your secret weapon?” Titania translated.

Bastian nodded once. “Indeed, a secret light so slim not even the Queen will see it approach amidst the growing dark.”

“She doesn’t know we’re coming?” Ike asked, confused.

“She does not, must not, and shall not—or so I would have you vow this day,” Bastian confirmed. “This stratagem relies on absolute secrecy and unequivocal patience. Forsooth, tell me now, are you equal to the task?”

“We’ll take the job,” Ike declared, and Soren was relieved this briefing would soon be over. He could hardly stand to listen to Bastian a moment longer.

  

The Count of Fayre bid the mercenaries farewell the next day, asking they give his best wishes to Elincia and apologize on his behalf when they eventually saw her again. Bastian claimed he still had business in Daein and could not return to Crimea until it was concluded. As to what that business was, he wouldn’t even give a poetically cryptic hint. Soren logged this suspicious behavior away in the back of his mind and focused on the task ahead.

The mercenaries were entering Crimea once again, but this time going unnoticed wasn’t just a whim. Being recognized would risk alerting the rebels to their presence. Ludveck’s troops would prepare for them, and any surprise attack they might launch could be countered. Worse still, the mercenaries could be targeted, with enemies of the queen looking to eliminate them before they united with her.

To avoid this, Ike and the others did use assumed names this time (of which Soren was given the unfortunate appellation ‘Vernon’), and they never used the name Greil Mercenaries. In fact, they didn’t claim to be mercenaries at all and didn’t look for small jobs along the way. They kept their weapons concealed, and despite the claustrophobic summer heat, they travelled with their hoods up all day (Soren especially). Thanks to their steeds from the refugee jobs, they set a quick pace for the town Bastian had marked on their map. 

They hadn’t been able to enter Crimea via one of the main ports of entry (or risk being recognized by Royal Knights), so they’d picked their way through the mountains until coming to a rope bridge Bastian had assured them was safe. (Unfortunately the horses hadn’t seemed to believe it, and getting each one across had been a lengthy process.) This smugglers’ bridge had put them on a more direct path to Melior than either Oribes or Riven Bridge could have, and it was in a town just beyond the outskirts of Melior that they were supposed to meet Bastian’s deputy.

Other than the person’s codename, the mercenaries had nothing to base their search on. However, Soren recognized the name of the town instantly. “This was where I addressed my messages to Bastian,” he told Ike reluctantly. (Although he had grudgingly forgiven him, that didn’t mean Soren liked reminding him of the treachery.) “I suggest we find the nearest office of the Royal Post. Bastian likely has a plant there.”

Ike agreed, and the mercenaries plodded toward the center of town. 

 

“Took you long enough,” was the greeting that met them as soon as they passed through the door. A woman was leaning against the wall behind the counter with her arms folded. Her hair was gray and grim creases lined her cheeks and mouth, and yet she didn’t appear terribly aged. Her slender body still looked strong, her skin healthy, and her dark eyes bright.

“Are you Calgary?” Ike asked in response to her chastisement.

“To you I will be,” she replied. “But I have many names.”

“I’m Ike,” he replied simply, “And these are the Greil Mercenaries.” By the way he was standing tall, Soren knew he was enjoying using their names again, even if only for a moment. “From this point on, you’re our proxy contract holder. Tell us what you need us to do.”

Calgary made her way around the counter as she seemed to assess the mercenaries. Then she turned her gaze to the windows, beyond which the overcast sky promised imminent rain. “We’re going scouting,” she announced. A moment later, she was pushing them out of the shop and pinning a ‘closed’ notice on the locked door.

 

Calgary collected an all-gray pegasus from the stables behind the post office, and Soren noticed the woman herself was dressed in gray boots, gray trousers, and now a gray coat and gloves. He had no doubt that she could fly completely invisibly on a day like this—as long as she didn’t mind getting wet. And it seemed she didn’t care if the mercenaries ended up soaked to the bone either. She swiftly gave them their marks, and Ike broke them into pairs. Their mission was to gain insight into how the surrounding villages were leaning in the coming conflict. They were to watch and listen but not interrogate or interfere.

“We reconvene here after nightfall,” she said sternly. “Do not let yourselves be recognized or waylaid.”

“We know how to keep a low profile,” Ike assured her.

“Check the bars where men go to escape the rain. They may argue amongst themselves until they come to blows, but you must not intervene.”

Ike waved his hand. “We’ve got it.”

Calgary nodded as if satisfied. “We go now,” she said, with that, she leapt her pegasus into the sky.

“You have your orders,” Ike said after she was gone. “Do the scouting like she says, but don’t get too close.”

Everyone saluted or shouted, “Aye, Boss!” and a couple minutes later, Soren was on the road out of town with Boyd trotting beside him. A minute after that, the sky opened up, and a warm yet unforgiving drizzle began.

 

Calgary proved to be the exact opposite of Bastian, given her distaste for nonsense and wasted time, but she was also utterly loyal to him. The spies she controlled were, in turn, utterly loyal to her. Over the next two weeks, she monitored the movement of troops and the coalescing of militia forces in the holds around Melior. Geoffrey was currently leading an assault on Felirae in order to crush the insurgents, but it was clear to Soren that the flames of rebellion had already escaped Felirae and were spreading into Melior and beyond. 

Calgary’s spies reported what Lucia’s spies were doing, but from their reports, Soren gathered that the two networks weren’t working together or sharing information. While Lucia’s agents did what they could to suppress rebel lies, investigate traitors, and (when they could) instigate infighting among the enemy, Calgary’s spies did nothing. This meant the mercenaries too did nothing. Ike grew increasingly frustrated, but Titania assured him their patience was giving Elincia a chance to prove herself as queen.

 

One day, news arrived that Ludveck had thwarted Geoffrey by escaping Felirae with a large army. He was marching toward Melior, which now lacked the protection of the Royal Knights. “We move now,” Calgary announced. “This is the endgame.”

“Is Commander Geoffrey alive?” Titania asked tentatively.

“The Royal Knights’ cavalry regiment was hit hard at the siege of Castle Felirae,” she replied with a shake of her head. “It was by a third party I acquired this information; I do not know the details.”

“If a single knight survived, they will be hot on Ludveck’s trail,” Ike assured.

Calgary nodded as if to say she agreed. “We must get closer to the situation.” 

 

They rode out immediately and took up residence in another of Calgary’s haunts, this one located in Melior’s northeastern district. This region had higher elevation than most of the city, and if they picked the right spot, they had a clear view of both Melior Castle and (with a spyglass) Orinos, the closest Feliraen city.

If Ludveck laid siege against Melior Castle from here, he would be doing so from the rear, which would be far less effective given the terrain and fortifications. This simple fact worked in Elincia’s favor. She just had to stay behind her walls. But Soren knew it wasn’t that simple. The second Ludveck’s army entered the city, fighting would break out in every street. Fear, confusion, and anger would turn neighbors against each other. What had been limited to brawls and public arguments the past few weeks would turn to bloodshed in an instant.

To avoid this, Elincia could ride to meet Ludveck in the fields between Orinos and Melior. But without fortifications, the fight would be far harder. And without the disciplined Royal Knights at the heart of her army, Elincia could certainly lose.

“I know what you are thinking,” Calgary noted, lowering her spyglass to glance down at him. The pair had come to the highest point in the city to get a view of the northern plains. When Soren did not reply, she handed him the spyglass. “But because you are thinking, you do not see. Take a closer look.”

Soren did not know where she intended him to look, but he surveyed the plains with the spyglass anyway.

“The road,” Calgary offered.

Soren turned his attention to the main road leading north out of Melior. “The air is dusty,” he observed. “Given that the dry season is long over, only a large number of troops and horses would kick up that much dirt. Queen Elincia, it seems, has gone to make her stand elsewhere.” He scanned the horizon looking for a likely destination, and to his surprise he felt Calgary’s hand on the top of his head, rotating his gaze to the west. People didn’t usually touch him so familiarly, but even worse was the demeaning nature of the action. His shoulders spiked, but he didn’t lower the glass. When she let go, he saw a tiny white blur against the bottom of the sky, which might have been the top of a castle.

“Fort Alpea,” Calgary declared. “That is where I would go. I am waiting now for my scouts to confirm.” 

“I will tell Ike not to get too comfortable,” Soren said in reply. He returned the spyglass and started picking his way down the lookout’s old stone steps. They were carved into the bare rock and worn slick with the passing of untold feet. However, an itching in the back of Soren’s mind caused him to stop and glance back up at Calgary. Instead of looking out at the plains, she had turned around, and her gaze fell on the city blocks unfolding like a maze below her. Her brow was pulled together as if deep in thought, and Soren wondered what ominous feeling she was struggling with. It was a bit unsettling, because until now, the woman had always seemed completely unaffected by her investigations. 

 

A couple hours later, her perturbed expression proved warranted. “Lady Lucia has been captured,” she announced. She and the Greil Mercenaries were sitting in the basement of the tiny shack that was her hideaway. There was hardly room for them all, and the air was stale. “Last night. I just received confirmation.”

The reaction from the mercenaries was appropriately shocked and concerned.

“Her hair was sent to Queen Elincia as a threat before she left the city, which implies they are keeping her alive for now. That being said, I do not believe the queen left with her tail between her legs. She aims to defeat Ludveck’s army at Fort Alpea.”

“Alpea is not as well-fortified as Melior,” Titania mused, rubbing her hands against each other as if in thought, “and it can be easily surrounded. There will be little chance for retreat if the worst should happen.”

“It is a gambit,” Calgary agreed, “but the Queen would not have made this choice lightly.”

“Are we riding for Fort Alpea?” Ike sounded like he wanted to be part of the fight.

“Not yet,” Calgary cautioned. “First we must uncover the location they are holding Lucia. If she is still in the city, we could rescue her.”

“How do we help?” Ike asked, easily adapting to this new plan.

“Most of her personal guards were killed, but one or two may have made it to their safehouse. Following their blood trails was easy enough, but my spies cannot gain access due to the monster that guards the door.”

“Monster?” Soren repeated doubtfully.

“I believe you know him. His name is Largo.”

The laughter that overtook the mercenaries was enough to cause even Calgary to crack a smile. “Ike, go to him and interrogate Lady Lucia’s agents. If they have not succumbed to their injuries, they may remember some detail that will help us find her.”

Ike’s grim expression returned, and he nodded. “Just point us to this safehouse; we’ll take care of the rest.”