Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ Fire Emblem Tellius Saga: Book 3 ❯ CHAPTER 67: FLAGUERRE ( Chapter 1 )

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

The Gallian Army was gathering in the city of Susa, near the mountainous Begnion border, only a day’s march from the fortress city of Mugill. The Greil Mercenaries arrived in the final stage of the muster, which meant the first battle of the Laguz-Begnion War would occur any day now. Soren knew from experience that a winter invasion wasn’t ideal. But because the Greil Mercenaries had survived the invasion of Daein with all their fingers and toes intact, he supposed it was possible they would live through this one too.

When they entered Susa, Ranulf ran ahead to report to the general: a lion named Skrimir who was Caineghis’s nephew and next in line for the Gallian throne. The Greil Mercenaries approached the city’s center more slowly, watching thousands of cats, tigers, and lions prepare for the coming war by sparring, cooking, playing, eating, and so on. Soren eyed the ongoing preparations and wasn’t surprised by the complete lack of mules or wagons. He already knew laguz didn’t domesticate horses or oxen, but it was still dismaying to see the rows of simple handcarts and realize those would be the only way to transport supplies for this entire army. Glancing at the sky, Soren didn’t see a single hawk or raven, but he found himself wondering how the flying army would make do without even these carts.

As the mercenaries wandered through the encampment, every soldier who got a whiff of them stopped to stare. And since the range of a beast laguz’s nose was quite far, and the hush that surrounded them was expansive.

On a whim, Soren allowed himself to fall to the back of the group, and then, when he felt brave enough, he slowed his pace even further. The mercenaries pulled ahead, and Soren glanced around to see if a single Gallian would look in his direction. They did not.

Every eye and ear he could see was currently following the ten mercenaries. Now that Soren was separate from them, he might as well be invisible. A shiver ran up his spine that had nothing to do with the cold, and he hastened to rejoin the others. No one commented on his momentary absence, and Soren made a mental note not to stray from his fellow mercenaries for the remainder of this campaign. If Parentless were truly treated like they didn’t exist, he could never count on a laguz soldier having his back in the battles to come.

Soren’s trepidation was abated a moment later, when Lethe and Mordecai appeared. These two laguz, at least, treated him like a regular beorc. Standing next to Lethe was another cat laguz who looked similar to Lethe herself, having the same light orange hair and violet eyes.

“Ike!” Mordecai rumbled in greeting, immediately enveloping Ike in a hug. “It makes my heart warm to see you again.” Although they’d crossed paths in Melior, both Mordecai and Lethe had returned to Gallia soon after Ludveck’s defeat.

“I may no longer call you my general,” Lethe said, inclining her head stiffly, “but if you allow me the term Commander, I would welcome you as such.”

“Fair enough.” Ike nodded. “It’s good to see you too, Lethe, Mordecai.” His eyes moved to the other cat-woman, and his smile grew uncertain, as if trying to recall if he knew her.

“This is Lyre,” Lethe introduced her. “She is my kit-mate—my twin as you beorc may say.”

Ike’s eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t realize you had a sister! It’s nice to meet you, Lyre.” Perhaps remembering Lethe’s dislike of beorc when they first met, Ike didn’t offer his hand.

But Lyre seized his hand and wrist to shake it emphatically. “I’m glad to finally meet the beorc even Lethe and Captain Ranulf call friend.”

Lethe hissed in embarrassment, and Mordecai chuckled.

“Captain Ranulf is the one who bid us find you,” Lyre continued, “You should come with us!” She finally let go of his hand, and Ike agreed to follow her.

Mordecai slipped away to attend some vague duties, and the two sisters led the mercenaries to a large building at the center of Susa. Here they reunited with Ranulf, who was accompanied by a lion laguz Soren could only assume was Skrimir.

In size and shape, he mirrored Caineghis, but he seemed to lack the king’s elegance. Rather than the fine robes Caineghis always wore, Skrimir was dressed in the lightweight cloth and simple leather armor worn by all Gallian soldiers. Like his uncle, his hair was an unruly mane of crimson locks, but instead of a full beard, he kept only a patch of hair at the bottom of his chin. On his forehead, his laguz markings were a series of slashes radiating from the point of his bushy eyebrows up to his hairline.

“Ike, may I introduce General Skri-” Ranulf began, but the lion-man pushed past him.

“This is the beorc my uncle goes on about?” he laughed, throwing his hands on his hips. “He doesn’t look like much to me!”

Ike stared back at Skrimir without backing down. “I’m Ike of the Greil Mercenaries. We’re here to help.”

“Bah!” Skrimir barked. “Gallia doesn’t need help to fight! Our warriors are the strongest in the world!”

“Commander Ike is here to help us with our strategy,” Ranulf offered, “Remember, Skrimir? …Strategy?”

The lion prince was clearly not listening. He ran his eyes over the rest of the mercenaries and his face twisted deeper and deeper into confusion upon seeing Mist, Rolf, Mia, and Soren. “What are these little ones doing here? They’re so skinny! Are these beorc soldiers? Ha! They will be easy to crush!”

Mist blushed, and Rolf started fidgeting with his hands. Mia grew indignant and clenched her fists. “You may find we don’t crush so easily,” she growled, but her voice was quiet, as if she may not want to anger Skrimir as soon as meeting him. Soren, on the other hand, was simply relieved Skrimir had actually looked at him directly and implied he was one of the ‘beorc soldiers’ he was belittling. It may have been an insult, but it wasn’t as bad as the truth.

Ranulf seemed ashamed of Skrimir’s comments, and he offered the mercenaries a wince of apology. Ike just shook his head, “We’re all capable fighters, and we’ll be glad to prove that on the battlefield. When do we move out?”

“Ha! He is eager for blood—I like that! I too which to feel the flesh of my enemies under my claws. We should leave soon, Ranulf!”

“Just a few more days until all the troops are ready,” he promised.

“Then I will go to them!” Skrimir decided. “I will make them readier!” With that, he strode past the mercenaries and exited the hall without a backward glance.

Ranulf shook his head when the heavy doors slammed closed. “Please forgive him,” he sighed, “He’s just very…excited right now.”

Ike shrugged innocently. “I wasn’t going to say a thing.”

A moment later, the sound of footsteps signaled someone coming briskly down the hall. He was a familiar-looking tiger laguz with white hair, bluish ears, and a blue-gray tail. He was dressed primly, with every inch of cloth in his trousers and jerkin apparently ironed and folded into place. Soren recognized him as the one who’d given them the copy of the trade agreement in Mugill a year ago.

“Ah, Lieutenant Kyza,” Ranulf greeted him, “You remember the Greil Mercenaries.”

The tiger gave a short, stiff bow. “Greetings,” he said and then immediately turned to Ranulf. “There are still preparations that need your approval, sir.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Ranulf sighed again. “Why don’t you get the mercenaries set up while I’m gone?” He turned to Ike, adding: “When I get back, I’ll wrangle Skrimir into a strategy meeting and we can start planning our first move.”

Ike glanced at Titania and Soren. “We’ll be ready,” he promised. 

 

Soren had had weeks to contemplate the Laguz Alliance’s first strike, but he hadn’t possessed complete information until now. At Ike’s request, Kyza brought them the latest reports and answered their biggest questions—such as why the invasion’s aerial units were missing.

“The bird tribes are scheduled to begin their strike on southern Begnion tomorrow,” Kyza answered in an official tone. “Kings Tibarn and Naesala intend to draw the Central Army southward, preventing them from swiftly aiding the northern forces.”

Ike rubbed his cheek and nodded. “That sounds like a good plan.”

“It’s certainly one way to do it…” Soren said to offer his approval. Although divide-and-conquer was a perfectly logical tactic, he wouldn’t normally condone a strategy that required completely separating his own forces in order to divide a larger enemy. But given the bird-men’s unique mobility, they should be able to unite with the Gallian Army far faster than the Central Army could reinforce the senators’ northern forces. And as long as the hawks and ravens did eventually unite with the Gallian Army, Soren could work with this.

Once Kyza had given them a couple rooms in Susa Hall and found a place to store their horses and cart, he left them alone to await Ranulf’s return. Ike let the rest of the mercenaries loose, while he, Soren, Titania, and Mist reviewed reports on Mugill’s and Flaguerre’s fortifications. Both cities were prepared to withstand siege, and Begnion clearly suspected an imminent attack.

However, Gallia apparently thought it impossible to get a spy inside the city walls (due to their markings and obvious animal attributes), because they hadn’t even tried. Reconnaissance thus far was limited, and the reports contained no specific information about the city’s garrison. Soren had foreseen this problem, but he refused to stand for it. Either the Gallians would have to try harder to disguise themselves, or they would have to find beorc willing to work with them.

“One of us could go in…” Ike mused when Soren pointed out the root of the issue.

“Absolutely not,” he returned. “If you consider each mercenary’s skills objectively, none of them would make an ideal spy relative to their expendability.”

“Aw,” Titania cooed, “Soren’s worried about us.”

Rolling his eyes, he explained: “It is simply too likely they would get captured and killed. Stealth has never been the Greil Mercenaries’ forte; that is not why we are here.”

 “I can’t argue with that,” Ike sighed, turning to another map of the region. “We can discuss it later at the meeting. For now, let’s think about the best way to seize Mugill. They have to have a weakness in their defenses somewhere…”

Soren silently rotated Ike’s map so he was looking at it the right way up, and when he did, he noticed a dotted trail penned between the mountains north of Mugill Pass. “What’s this?” he said, tracing it with his finger.

“Hm…” Titania squinted at the map and then found a similar-looking one filled with minute writing. “I believe that is the route they’ve been using to conduct reconnaissance on Flaguerre.”

“Do the mountains really line up like this…?” Soren thought aloud, taking a closer look at the sketch and hoping it was accurate.

“What are you thinking, Soren?” Ike asked with a hint of excitement in his voice.

“If scouts are already using this path, perhaps it’s possible an entire battalion could squeeze through.” He pointed to where the path seemed to end just south of the blocked pass between Crimea and Begnion. “Begnion will not be expecting us to attack Flaguerre first, let alone from the Crimea-facing side.”

“Taking Flaguerre while its back is turned,” Titania murmured appreciatively, “It’s a cunning move.”

“I assume most of the forces stay here in Susa,” Ike noted. Instead of looking at the map, he was looking at the mountains through the window. “Then we can strike Mugill from the north and west at the same time.”

“There will still be the matter of Mugill’s impenetrable walls,” Soren reminded, “But yes.”

Ike grinned. “I bet Ranulf and Skrimir will love this plan!”

“It all depends on the soundness of this passage,” he reminded. “Let’s find out what we can before the strategy meeting.” With that, all three returned to their reports, and Soren noticed Ike’s movements and pace of reading seemed much livelier than before.

 

Ranulf arrived before Skrimir, and his eyes lit up when he heard the plan. “We may have to march single-file part of the way to Flaguerre, but that shouldn’t be a problem.” He started pacing and rubbing his hands together. “Now we just have to convince Skrimir.”

“Convince him?” Titania repeated.

Ranulf stopped to give her an apologetic glance. “Well, we certainly can’t phrase it like we’re stabbing Begnion in the back… Skrimir cares a lot about honor actually.”

“Well, it’s not like the Begnion forces at Flaguerre are going to be pushovers.” Ike shook his head. “This battle isn’t going to be easy just because we come from the rear.”

Just then, the doors to the briefing room ground open and Skrimir pushed his way in. “Ah Ranulf,” he greeted them, “and the hairless ones from earlier!”

“Good timing, Skrimir,” Ranulf welcomed him. “We were just discussing a strategy that might be the perfect use of our forces.”

Skrimir reached the table but didn’t sit down. Laid on the tabletop was a map of the region with stone figurines to represent the Begnion garrisons in Mugill and Flaguerre as well as the units of Gallian soldiers here in Susa. He gazed at them with disinterest. “What is this strategy?” he asked skeptically.

“Your soldiers’ paws are better suited to mountainous terrain than hooves.” Soren spoke in a language he thought Skrimir would understand. “The commander at Flaguerre will not expect a large force to come through the mountains, simply because a beorc army would be incapable of it.” He slid one statuette up the mountain passage until it stood next to Flaguerre. “Underestimating you will be his downfall.”

Skrimir clearly liked what he was hearing. “We do that then!” he declared.

“You mean, you’re okay with attacking Flaguerre first, instead of Mugill?” Ranulf clarified, obviously trying to hide his surprise.

“Which is which?” Skrimir cocked his head at the map but promptly gave up. “Bah!” He swept his arm across the table, knocking over both Flaguerre’s and Mugill’s figurines. “We attack the one underestimating us first!”

“I’ll put the plan into place,” Ranulf said, obviously relieved.

“Was this your idea, Ranulf?” Skirmir asked, turning to him. “It is a good one!”

Ranulf gestured across the table at Ike, Titania, and Soren. “No, that’s why we hired these mercenaries, remember? They are familiar with both laguz and beorc styles of warfare.”

Skrimir looked at the trio as if seeing them for the first time. “Ike, was it?” he asked, “Keep coming up with strategies that let us laguz best use our strength.”

“We will,” Ike agreed, “But actually, it was Soren who thought of this one.” He clapped him on the back while Skrimir stared in confusion.

“This child?” he asked before bursting into laughter. “Beorc are surprising!”

Ike kept his hand on Soren’s back even while his shoulders bunched, and the comfort of the touch stopped him from saying anything.

“We’ll help Ranulf put the plan into action now,” Ike said, ignoring the comment.

“Good.” Skrimir nodded his approval, and with that, he was gone. Only then did Ike drop his hand. Soren instantly missed its warmth.

“Sorry about that,” Ranulf sighed.

Soren just shook his head. “He is a laguz: aggressive, simple-minded, short-sighted—I honestly don’t expect anything better.”

Ranulf’s mouth twisted into a grimace of annoyance, but he didn’t defend himself against the insult. “Well, let’s hammer out the details.” Turning his attention to the map, he picked up the statuettes Skirmir had knocked over. “These ballistae will be a problem…” he began.

Soren turned his mind to the task, but not before determining that, although he didn’t care what the stupid lion prince thought of him, he was going to make Skrimir need him. Soon, he hoped, Soon it will pain Skrimir to know how much he relies on someone he considers so inferior.

 

The trail to Flaguerre was in some parts very narrow and in some parts very steep. The elevation was high, and the cold, thin air bit Soren’s throat and weakened his lungs. The laguz troops took turns marching in their human and animal shapes, and as Soren had expected, these physical challenges were not as damaging to them as they might have been to a beorc battalion. The beasts plowed through snow that would have stopped any beorc, and their keen senses alerted them to dangerous ice patches and hidden crevasses.

But even with the laguz’s help, the mercenaries had it much harder, and they grumbled constantly for three days. Since they were bringing only Titania and Oscar’s horses, they carried all their supplies on their backs. At night when the temperature dropped and an icy mist descended on the mountains, they slept huddled within a single tent and kept each other from freezing.

The rest of the battalion made camp in large, round yurts, which were remarkably different than the cot-filled tents that had sheltered the Crimea Liberation Army in the Mad King’s War. During the day, the Gallian soldiers carried the springy, lightweight wood that made the lattice frames, and when these were erected, they covered them with furs, canvas, wool felt, and even the cloaks off their backs.

Each evening they camped in a relatively wide part of the narrow mountain trail, and here the troops would erect thirty of these dwellings in a row. The entire battalion sought refuge by piling in fifty to a yurt and keeping each other warm at night, just like the mercenaries. In the morning, the yurt at the head of the train functioned as the strategy tent, and it was here that Soren, Ike, Skrimir, Ranulf, and Titania conferred before starting the day’s march.

“Flaguerre is close now,” Ranulf announced, rolling out the map on which he’d marked their progress. “We should cross the Begnion border and arrive at the fortress city by dusk. We’ll storm the place at night and hit them fast enough that they troops inside won’t have time to take their positions.”

“Yes!” Skrimir roared in agreement. “Finally, a chance to rend my foes! But I would rather have a head-on fight,” he pouted, “Why do we wait until nightfall, like a pack of cowards?”

With eyes squeezed shut, Ranulf pressed his palm into his forehead and shook his head.

“Uh, what’s our role in this?” Ike asked, changing the subject.

“I want the Greil Mercenaries to act as a guerilla force,” Ranulf replied, tapping the map where Soren knew scouts had already found a weakness in Flaguerre’s wall. “Take out their fire mages and ballistae. They’re bad news for us laguz.”

“Bah, enough talking! To the battlefield, to taste my enemies’ fear! No more waiting!” Skrimir stood and began stretching his arms and legs.

“No, Skrimir.” Ranulf raised both of hands calmingly. “This isn’t the kind of fight where a general takes the field. You should stay behi-”

“Are you insane? Oh, I’ll fight! A general of Gallia does not hide behind his men! Leave this ‘tactics’ garbage to the beorc. We need only our claws and teeth! I call an end to this meeting! Time to kill!” He pushed his way out of the yurt without a backward glance.

“Wait!” Ranulf leapt to his feet. “Skrimir! Blast.” Apparently realizing his prince wasn’t coming back, he groaned audibly.

“Are you okay?” Ike asked, getting to his feet. Outside, Soren could hear the troops already dismantling the yurt around them.

“Yeah. That thickheaded fool…” Ranulf whispered and shook his head. “This’ll be his first major battle. Hopefully, he won’t get his teeth kicked out.” Something in Ranulf’s expression made Soren wonder if that wasn’t exactly what he wanted to happen. “How about you, Ike? Are you sure about this?”

“Sure about what?”

“Well, you know…” Ranulf ran his eyes over Soren and Titania too. “You’re beorc. I’m laguz. You sure you want to take our side?”

“The Laguz Alliance is in the right, Ranulf,” Ike returned firmly. “The senate is actively ignoring you, and worse, they’re murdering your messengers! Why shouldn’t we help you get the senate’s attention? I’m sure my people understand. Besides, I would never abandon a friend in need.” He grasped Ranulf’s upper arm with one hand.

“Thanks, Ike,” the cat-man sighed, gently touching his fingers.

Soren felt his old jealousy bubbling up again, and he fought to keep it down like bile. He told himself Ike and Ranulf were different species—just as he and Ike were. It was impossible for them to feel anything other than friendship toward one another. But that same justification had never done nothing to dissuade his own heart.

 

“Seems like we were just here,” Mia whispered when the lights of the city came into view. Her breath came in bursts of clouds.

“Except we were actually fighting for Begnion that time,” Boyd replied with a laugh in his voice. “Being a mercenary sure is never boring.”

“Shh!” Titania hissed because he’d gotten too loud.

“This way!” Ike whispered, urging everyone to move faster. They descended into a stretch of young woods west of Flaguerre, and here the night was even darker. They couldn’t light a lantern, so they trusted their instincts and the bit of moonlight that managed to escape the thick cloud cover and tree branches. Soren didn’t know if his night vision was any better than his companions’, but he seemed to run into trees, trip over roots, and slip on ice less often than the rest. Because of this, he inevitably pulled to the front, beside Ike, and his presence tugged the mercenaries in the right direction.

Soon the woods gave way to a greater, solider darkness stretching in front of them: the decaying stone wall of Flaguerre’s western outworks. Following it, the mercenaries soon found the crumbling section that scouts reported should be low enough for a horse to jump. Assessing the site in the dark, the mercenaries were forced to roll down a couple of the larger stones, causing a small avalanche that was sure to draw a guard.

He, Ike, Shinon, and Gatrie climbed over first, while Rolf perched on an intact part of the wall with his bow drawn. Oscar and Titania crossed the wall with a running start, and the clatter of their hooves seemed even louder than the rocks. Almost as soon as they were over, the glow of a torch appeared among the trees. Rolf’s bowstring twanged, and the torch fell to the ground. Soren could hear the guard gurgling as he died, but he didn’t cry out, which meant Rolf’s aim was true. 

Mist, Rhys, Mia, and Boyd crawled over the wall next, and Rolf hopped down. “Let’s go,” Ike whispered, “Skrimir should be at the gate any second.”

With their ears attuned to the darkness, the mercenaries made their way out of the trees, and soon it was easy to follow the light. They were in the outer training grounds now, with seventy yards between them and the city’s main wall. But before the wall was an elevated stretch of land lined with three ballistae and bordered by evenly spaced braziers. At the corner of the terrace was a wooden watchtower, the top of which glowed with torchlight, but it was otherwise invisible in the descending fog. The top of the wall and the city beyond were likewise lost from view. The fog was sinking, and soon the mercenaries and laguz would be fighting in it.

Echoing Soren’s thoughts, a series of roars suddenly rent the night air. They were made even louder by the thick clouds, which seemed to contain and amplify the sound. Without stopping his charge, Soren turned his gaze south, where the land sloped downward and he could see outworks gate—or at least, the shadows cast by the torches mounted on either side. It was beyond this gate that the roaring was coming from, and a sudden loud thump echoed from it.

“E-enemy fire!” a Begnion guard called from somewhere in the dark. “We’re under attack! It’s those Gallian beasts! The subhumans are attacking us!” This was followed by plenty of urgent trumpeting.

Before Soren’s eyes, the outworks gate blew inward, and an enormous red lion bounding into the training yard below. Soren realized this had to be Skrimir, and he was pleasantly surprised to see he’d been able to batter down the first gate so quickly. A legion of cats and tigers was now pouring in around him, including a blue cat who had to be Ranulf. “Run down all who get in your way! Make a path of blood and bone! Advance! Advance! Advance!” bellowed Skirmir before disappearing from the torchlight again.

“Yeesh, glad he’s on our side!” Ike laughed aloud. “I see the family resemblance!” They no longer needed to keep quiet now that the guards on the terrace had spotted them.

An arrow zipped past Soren’s face, and he decidedly stopped paying attention to Skrimir and Ranulf’s battle. He and the Greil Mercenaries had their own job to do, and given the creaking sound coming from the ballistae, they were running late. The creaking was swiftly followed by whooshing and crashing as they lobbed their payloads.

“Keep up, everyone!” Ike called, running even faster. “Let’s get to work!”

Rocks were pummeling the laguz troops, and the mercenaries needed to stop that from happening as soon as possible. However, they met resistance on the way. Archers were lined up on the terrace, firing frantically into the darkness even though they probably couldn’t see the mercenaries well enough to aim. Meanwhile, other guardsmen were hopping down and racing toward them with torches in one hand and swords and axes in the other.

Ike’s sword cut through one such torch and the neck of the soldier carrying it in a single blow. A moment later, he was lost from view, and Soren was surrounded by lunging bodies and clashing weapons. Begnion soldiers wielding two-handed weapons followed the torch-bearers and posed an even greater threat.

Soren stopped running, holding back so he could turn his breath into a spell: “*Spirits of flame, follow my hand. Scorch their flesh.*” He chose to cast Elfire, because even if the flames didn’t finish the job, opponents who were screaming and on fire would be much easier for the other mercenaries to find and execute. He shot off three more spells in quick succession before a halberdier reached him.

 Soren ducked to avoid the arc of his halberd and intended to skip away, but this soldier was surprising well-trained and refused to swing too wide. He kept swiping and stabbing at Soren, successfully pushing him back.

Everyone was consumed in their own battles, so Soren would have to handle this on his own. “*Spirits of lightning-*” he began chanting. At the same moment, he dipped low, under the next swing. He twisted around the soldier, kicking the back of his knee before he could pivot. “-electrify the flesh-” he continued, stepping back before the soldier could right himself, “*-before me!*” The lightning bolt was much closer than Soren was used to, but he was confident his own magic wouldn’t hurt him. The brightness was blinding, but he could tell by the scent of burnt hair and hot metal that it had been a direct hit. Instead of regaining his footing, the soldier crumpled into the ground.

Soren cast his senses around him to predict where the next attack would come from, and he used a simple wind spell to fend of the attacker until his eyesight returned. A couple seconds later, he using another Elfire spell to burn the soldier from the inside out.

Looking around, Soren realized he had been pushed farther from the battle than he wanted to be, especially with the fog closing in around him. Running to reunite with the others, he attuned his senses to Ike and followed his friend’s unique beacon.

When he arrived, he saw Boyd give one of the legs of the watchtower two good chops with his hand-axes. Then Titania ran underneath, slashing at the same spot with her poleax. The timbers whined as the watchtower started to fall, and the Soren ran to get clear. When the noise had passed, he returned just in time to see Mia dashing up the fallen wreckage. She was using one of the intact legs as a ramp to reach the archers on the terrace. Soren hoped her idea was successful, but he soon lost her in the mist. Ike and Boyd were nearby, and when Soren stepped close enough to see them through the fog, he could tell they were on their way to join Mia by merely pulled themselves up over the edge. Since the elevation of the terrace was only as high as their armpits, this was easily done.

Gatrie, Shinon were right behind them, and although they quickly disappeared from view, Soren could hear them fighting with Mia not far away. Boyd rushed to fight as well, but Ike stayed to pull up Mist. Rolf, meanwhile, managed to get up on his own. Ike helped Rhys after that, which just left Soren (since Titania and Oscar were picked off the remaining ground troops.)

Ike was holding out his hand, and even though Soren thought he would have been able to get up on his own, he submitted to the aid. He grasped Ike’s hand at the same time he began a new Wind spell, and he completed it as soon as his feet touched the flagstones. He could hardly see his comrades or the enemy soldiers fighting in the gloom, nor the ballistae beyond (whose engineers had to be aiming solely on sound now, since there was nothing to see), so he used this spell to merely push the fog away.

The winds he conjured were not forceful or sharp, but for a moment they revealed the entire terrace. The fighting slowed to a stop as panicked soldiers and zealous mercenaries got their bearings. By the time the fog closed in again, the battle had resumed in earnest.

Soren fended off the soldiers he sensed around him while making his way to the ballistae, which were the true target of this mission. Upon reaching one, he set it ablaze with two Fire spells. Meanwhile, Boyd and Ike hacked another to pieces, and Mia merely sabotaged the last one so the counterweights couldn’t function. The end of the barrage was met by excited shouting and cheering from the laguz below.

“Weaklings!” Skrimir’s voice rose above the rest. “Where is your general? Come out and fight, coward! I am Skrimir, general of Gallia!” From what Soren could hear, the Begnion soldiers offered no response.

Despite Skirmir’s overconfidence, the battle wasn’t even half over. Now they needed to get beyond the wall, defeat the main garrison forces (which must be charging their way by now), and take the citadel at the city’s center (which would mean eliminating more ballistae and a regiment of mages who’d yet to show their faces).

The sound of thumping made Soren realize Skrimir and his troops had reached the city gate. The mercenaries had to get moving if they were to stay ahead of the Gallians and keep protecting them from Begnion’s artillery. “Soren, over here!” Ike called, and he ran to his side. He and Rhys had found the stairs leading atop the wall, which were blocked merely by a wooden door and a shackle lock. “You said you can take care of these, right?” 

“Well, I am no Volke, but-” Soren didn’t waste any more time on the common tongue: “*Fly spirits of wind!*” A jet of wind shot through the lock, and it fell to the ground broken.

“Perfect!” Ike grinned. “Greil Mercenaries to me! We’re taking this city!” He pulled the door open, only for a volley of arrows to peg the ground at his feet. He immediately slammed the door again, and the second volley imbedded itself in the wood. “One,” Ike started counting, and Soren and Rhys began chanting.

“*Spirits of wind-*”

“*Spirits of light-*”

“Two.”

“*-follow my hand-*”

“*-follow my hand-*”

“Three!” He pulled the door open again, and Soren and Rhys unleashed their spells.

“*-Blast their flesh!*”

“*-Expunge the darkness!*”

Soren’s deadly gale ripped into two of the archers atop the stairwell, and Rhys’s golden light melted the skin off the other two. Ike surged up the steps without even checking to see if the dual spells had been successful. He had his sword drawn, and he finished off the one soldier Rhys had left shuddering violently on the ground.

Soren and Rhys were right behind him, already summoning new spells to use against whoever they found atop of the wall. Mia and Rolf were behind them, in turn, followed by Mist and Boyd. Soren was certain the others were coming too—even Titania and Oscar, who would be forced to leave their steeds behind for now.

As soon as he reached the top of the stairs, Soren became immersed in a foggy battle once more. This time, the wrong step could mean falling off the wall, so he concentrated hard on his footing.

 

Before long, the mercenaries descended the wall on the other side, now entering the city proper. Here the neatly spaced torches along the city streets helped alleviate their blindness, but it was also here that the garrison forces from the eastern part of the city had finally come to support their unprepared comrades.

The Greil Mercenaries couldn’t waste time engaging them all—instead leaving that to the laguz troops who were now pouring into the city. Instead, Ike led them to the second tier of defensive ballistae. These were erected around the citadel on all sides and fired steel bolts. With poor visibility like this, they were less effective than the stone-throwers. But the deep twang of the scorpions was often accompanied by a high-pitched yelp from a laguz, so the bolts were obviously hitting something. The mercenaries had nearly reached the ballistae when a sudden brightness to the south caught their attention,

“That’s a lot of fire,” Mist observed with a tremor in her voice. Her eyes widened as she stared at the glowing fog.

“Begnion’s fire mages must be engaging Skrimir’s forces,” Titania noted hollowly.

“Mist, Shinon, Gatrie!” Ike ordered them, “You’re with me.”

“Yes, Boss!” they replied in unison.

“Titania, take everyone else and support Skrimir until those mages are dead. Cross the rooftops to get there!”              

“Yes, sir!” Titania crowed. “Come on, you lot!” Soren followed her with only a second’s hesitation. He agreed with Ike’s change of strategy, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be apart from him. Reminding himself that the sooner the mages were dead, the sooner he could reunite with Ike, Soren urged his legs to run faster.

When they reached the battle unfolding at the base of the citadel, Soren, Rhys, and Rolf stayed on the rooftops to attack from above, while Titania, Oscar, and Boyd leapt down to face the mages and soldiers hand-to-hand.

“There you are, beorc mercenaries!” Skrimir laughed when he saw them. “You’re missing out on all the fun!” With a playful roar, he leapt forward, knocking out one soldier with the sheer force of the collision. A moment later, his massive front paw pressed down on another soldier’s head before he could crawl away, thereby crushing it, and his bloody maw descended to grab an enemy archer by the arm. He proceeded to shake the man until his body ripped away from his shoulder joint.

Tearing his eyes from the carnage, Soren focused on the mages in the street below. Lightning was generally more effective against users of fire magic, so he turned to a page of Elthunder spells and wasted no time electrocuting the red-cloaks from above.

 

Once the mages were dead, the laguz troops had no need of them, so Titania led Soren and the others around the opposite side of the citadel, where the reunited with Ike just as he and his team were about to take out the last two scorpions. They accomplished the task together, and when it was done, Soren took a moment to catch his breath and survey the battle from the high vantage point. The fog still blurred his view, but a lot could be determined from light (fire), darkness (lack of fire), motion (fighting or fleeing), and the noise drifting up to him (mostly victorious roaring).

From what Soren could determine, the citadel doors were open and Skrimir was inside. Half the laguz were flooding in behind him while the rest remained outside to defeat the surviving soldiers. Turning to the east, where it was far darker, Soren detected what seemed to be a large swath of motion on the main road leading out of the city. This motion was led by a small cluster of torches.

“What do you see?” Ike asked quietly, coming up behind him.

“Begnion is retreating,” Soren offered. A moment later, he heard the sound of distant trumpets signaling an official retreat.

“Well, let’s finish this,” Ike sighed. Soren turned to him and noticed he was bleeding beneath his ear, but the wound didn’t seem life-threatening. “Come on, everybody, let’s get inside!” A second later, Gatrie smashed in one of the citadel’s windows, and he and Shinon were the first to jump inside. Soren could feel exhaustion tugging at his mind and body, but as Ike had said, all that was left now was to seize their victory.

  

The laguz were merciless and showed no interest in taking prisoners or asking for a surrender. Although they refused to fight anyone who dropped their weapons, if a soldier cowered or ran without dropping their blade, they were fair game. 

The laguz didn’t seem to tire either. When they ran out of energy and were forced to revert to their human forms, their chests heaved and their hands shook, but they refused to stop fighting. Many of them ran in search of some escaped or hidden soldier they might be able to fight, despite having no weapons except their fists.

“Are we done?” Ike asked Ranulf, when they finally reunited in the citadel’s main hall.

“Yeah,” Ranulf yawned. (At least he seemed tired like a normal person.) “The guards are dead, and the rest of the troops have fled to the east. We’re in good shape.” He and the Greil Mercenaries walked out Flaguerre’s central plaza. Here they found Skrimir pacing on two legs.

“Bah!” He kicked the disembodied head of a Begnion soldier. “Is that it? I still crave blood!” He rounded on Ranulf. “Find me more humans to kill!” 

“The civilians have no quarrel with us,” Ike said in a low, warning voice, “and the soldiers who surrendered have handed over their weapons.”

Skrimir growled unhappily, and Soren wondered if he would order his men to stand down. If he refused, Soren wondered if Ranulf and Ike could possibly force him. “If this is all the fight Begnion can give, this war will be over soon!” He crossed his arms and gave the surrounding fog a smug glare.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Ranulf cautioned, raising his palms. “We won this fight, yes, but the empire has a massive army. Don’t forget that there was a time when Begnion ruled over the entire continent, even us.”

“Hmph.” Skrimir turned away like a petulant child “You forget...that was before my time.”

Ranulf dropped his arms and shook his head. “Did you listen to a word I just said?”

Instead of answering, Skrimir walked away, heading toward the closest group of his restless warriors. “Soldiers of Gallia!” he boomed, “The battle is over! We have won! No human can stand against the laguz! Take heart—we are not done yet! We’ll continue to fight, kill, and crush our enemies!”

“What…” Soren closed his eyes, and his exhaustion seemed to double. “What a stupid speech.”

“Oh don’t say that,” Titania sighed. “I hear King Caineghis was not so different when he was young. Try not to judge so quickly.”

“I don’t know,” Ike winced. “That’s really hard to imagine.”

“I’m sure Skrimir will settle down, given time,” Ranulf offered in a strained voice. “Well, I hope so, anyway…”

Skirmir was out of view now, but he was clearly audible as he continued to shout: “Victory awaits us in Mugill! We shall attack, conquer, and celebrate our victory!”

“Well if he’s not settling down right now,” Soren said pointedly to Ranulf, “perhaps you should stop him from massacring the city.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Ranulf returned, obviously irritated by the accusation. “That would be completely dishonorable.” When Soren didn’t back down, Ranulf relaxed his shoulders. “Then again, I’m sure the civilians are terrified. Maybe I can get him to call everyone back to the keep,” he conceded.

“We’ll be inside.” Ike nodded. “Mist and Rhys are available to heal anyone who’s badly injured.”

Ranulf seemed to perk up a bit and cast his gaze over the bloodstained, battle-weary mercenaries. “Thanks, by the way,” he said. “The Greil Mercenaries were a big help tonight.”

“We’re just glad to be here,” Ike replied.

As the cat-man jogged after his idiot prince, Soren wondered how Ike could be glad to be in this mess—supporting the likes of Skrimir, who seemed to embody the worst values of laguz culture. They may have won this battle, but there were many more to come, and Skrimir’s pathetic excuse for leadership could get them all killed.