Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ Fire Emblem Tellius Saga: Book 3 ❯ CHAPTER 70: TELGAM ( Chapter 4 )

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

By dawn, the city was firmly in Gallia’s hands, and Ranulf was run ragged finding lodging for the full army. Fortunately he made the Greil Mercenaries a priority, and they were given soft beds in the citadel.

Soren had just finished washing up and was on his way to get some sleep when he found Ike waiting outside his room. “Commander?” he greeted him, because Ike’s eyes were closed and he seemed to be dozing against the wall.

At his voice, Ike shook himself awake. “Ah, Soren, there you are.”

“Do you need something?”

“Oh, I, uh, just wanted to say good work last night,” Ike explained lamely.

“You waited to tell me that?” Soren asked, pushing the door open. He strode inside, while Ike leaned against the open threshold. “You should have just gone to sleep.”

“Well, actually…Mist told me she saw you fall down. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Soren suspected he knew what Mist had told him, and he fought to control his embarrassment. “Fell?” he repeated.

“Well, she said ‘pushed’…while you were on the wall by the stable yard. She said there were some soldiers who took a while to succumb to the poison.”

“But succumb they did.” Soren crossed his arms. “I assure you I was in no danger.”

“Still…” Now Ike was the one who looked embarrassed. “I realize now why you might have been spooked when I touched-”

“There was no problem,” Soren cut him off. Although Ike’s decision to pull his hair out of his face before the battle had surprised him at the time, in retrospect, it was reasonable given the fact that they’d been in a rush. He’d been wrong to let it stun him.

“But I shouldn’t have put you in that situation in the first place,” Ike continued, “I was so worried about Mist I forgot-”

“Think nothing of it,” Soren cut him off again.

Ike gave a discontented sigh as if to say he couldn’t forgive himself that easily.

Silence stretched between them until Soren thought to say, matter-of-factly, “I killed them.”

A small, somewhat relieved smile crept onto Ike’s face. “Good,” he said, “because if you didn’t, I might be in the dungeons looking for them right now.”

Soren thought this was a bizarre claim for Ike to make, but in case it was true, he decided to give him no reason to accost the prisoners in the basement. “Lethe took care of Mist’s attacker, and Mia and Lyre defended themselves sufficiently. The honor of your mercenaries remains intact.”

Ike’s smile widened as if this were a joke. “Mist told me,” he said simply, “but I’m glad to hear it from you too.”

Soren shook his head, finding he was annoyed by Ike’s concern when he wished he could just appreciate it. “Why worry about it now?”

“Huh?”

“You never spent much time in the infirmary, so perhaps you did not know the things your own soldiers said or tried to do to your sister during the war. But she always put them in their place, and she always healed their wounds regardless.”

“What are you talking about?”

Soren continued as if he hadn’t heard him: “But I know you know the things enemy soldiers said to her on the battlefield—what bandits and brigands have always said to her when she confronts them with sword and staff. Titania and Mia are disproportionately targeted as well. You know this.”

Ike said nothing for several moments, obviously chastised.

Soren regretted his harsh rebuttal. “It doesn’t matter.” He shook his head. “I am just tired.” Sitting on his bed, he started taking off his shoes. He still a headache from the strain of casting such advanced spells, and he truly did want to sleep. But part of him also hoped Ike had something else to say and would stay longer.

“Yeah,” Ike yawned, “I’ll let you get some rest.” Despite his words, he lingered in the doorway.

“You should rest too, Ike,” Soren advised, although he didn’t know why he was pushing him away. They could talk about Mist, they could talk about the battle, they could talk about anything. Soren could try to be less harsh; he just wanted Ike to stay. But he said nothing.

“Yeah…” Ike seemed distracted by something as he stared back at him. “Yes, I’ll do that.” With another yawn, he finally turned around and closed the door closed behind him. Once he was gone, Soren turned down the bed covers and cursed himself for wishing he’d stayed. As he fell asleep, he scolded himself for dreaming of Ike’s tongue and hands and berated himself for wishing his safe, gentle touch could replace the memory of those soldiers. He fell asleep with one hand under the back of his neck and imagined he could still feel the unexpected brush of Ike’s knuckles. Why had that felt so different, so good?

 

It was afternoon when someone knocked on his door. Opening it, Soren stared at the laguz, whose shifting eyes seemed not to want to look at him and who didn’t immediately explain his presence.

“Do you have a report to give me?” Soren asked in annoyance.

The cat soldier bunched his shoulders and finally turned to face Soren directly. But he still didn’t look at him. Instead, he seemed to be looking at the floor behind him. “Beorc reinforcements have arrived. Your commander is meeting with them now. Captain Ranulf bid me include you.”

Soren sighed, accepting that this was the best he could expect from laguz forced to acknowledge his existence. “Very well, where are they?”

 

After getting dressed, Soren made his way to the western gate, where Ike, Titania, and some of the other mercenaries were greeting the new arrivals. Brom, Nephenee, Heather, and Haar had come from the east, via Gallia, and dropped off their belongings at the citadel on their way here. Ilyana, Aimee, Muston, Daniel, and Jorge had come from the west, via Begnion, and only just arrived.

Aimee was currently hanging on Ike’s arm, crooning while he grimaced and tried to pull away. “Why did it take so looong!” she moaned. “All these years without a word from my Ikey-poo!”

“Well, we weren’t at war so-” Ike tried to defend himself.

“That’s enough, Aimee, let the man breathe!” Muston laughed, clapping Ike on the back.

Aimee pouted but let go, and now that Ike was free, Soren turned his attention to the other conversations around him. He milled about, eavesdropping in case anyone had useful information, but nothing was being said that he didn’t already know or expect. Ilyana and the merchants had participated in the Daein Revolution along with Jill, Zihark, and Brom’s daughter Meg—all of whom had refused to come due to their continued commitment to King Pelleas’s new regime. Soren doubted Volke was going to show up any time soon, either, which meant these were the only reinforcements the Greil Mercenaries were going to get.

“Soren,” Ilyana greeting him dreamily, breaking his concentration. She draped her arms around him in a loose hug. Soren remained rigid until she backed away. “You look the same,” she observed, tilting her head to the side. Soren didn’t reply, but this didn’t seem to bother Ilyana who smiled and said simply, “Ike says you are still his tactician; that must mean you know where the food is.” Crossing her arms across her stomach she released a long sigh. “I hear laguz eat lots of meat… Ooh, I can’t wait.” Drool gathered at the corner of the slack smile.

Soren shook his head and found himself oddly relieved Ilyana was the same food-obsessed woman she’d always been. “You will want to go to the citadel’s mess hall. First floor, to the right of the armory. You can’t miss it.”

“Ah!” Ilyana clasped her hands eagerly and floated away. 

The rest of the mercenaries, merchants, and recruits were not far behind her, but Soren felt Ike’s hand on his shoulder. “Not us,” he said, and Soren noticed Titania was standing beside him. “Ranulf says Skrimir wants to know our next move. He’s called a war meeting over there.” He jerked his thumb at the western barracks tower.

Soren nodded, and the trio separated from the rest of the group, uniting with Ranulf at the base of the tower. When they arrived at the briefing room, Skrimir welcoming them with a wide smile and open arms. “Your beorc strategy has made the Begnion soldiers ashamed of their silly walls!” he said, “Tell me the next strategy, and we laguz will defeat another city!”

“There is no other city,” Soren replied, taking a seat. “At least not yet. For now, we must sit on the two we have and prove to Begnion that the Laguz Alliance is not bluffing.”

“What?” Skrimir exclaimed, aghast. “We have two victories in three nights! We must take another tomorrow!”

Soren glared at Skrimir. “If you run ahead without thinking, you will get your army trapped in Begnion and killed. We must see how the theocracy responds and then counter appropriately.”

“I don’t know, Soren,” Ike argued, “If we slow down now, we give the northern senators more time to prepare their armies.”

“Where are these armies and how many do they number?” Soren asked pointedly. “Without knowing the strength and position of our enemies, it is foolish to move forward. We must gain intelligence now, and that requires dispatching laguz spies disguised as beorc civilians. That is our next mission: not a single battle or siege but extensive reconnaissance. In the meantime, we take control of the lands immediately east of here, appropriating food and supplies for the army. We must make contact with Tibarn and Naesala as well. Only when all of this is accomplished—only then can we move east to Telgam, confront the Northern Army, and unite with the bird tribes at an optimal time and place.”

Ike seemed surprised by this response, but after a moment’s contemplation he agreed. “That makes sense. If we hadn’t taken the time to do that in Daein, we never would have reached Nevassa.”

“Argh,” Skrimir growled grumpily. “It sounds like a waste of time to me!”

“No, Skrimir, Soren is right,” Ranulf spoke up, “even if you don’t want to hear it. We can’t have a battle every day.”

“But this is war!” Skrimir argued, as if Ranulf were the one being naïve. “We should have a battle every other day at least!”

“There will be plenty to do in the meantime,” Titania consoled the prince. “Plus, many of your soldiers are still injured from these past battles. Laguz heal quickly, that is true, but they must take time to rest their bodies.”

Skrimir crossed his arms but gave in: “Fine! For now, we shall celebrate our victories, and those senators to the east will know fear when they hear our songs!”

“Er, I’m sure they will,” Ranulf agreed. 

 

That evening the mercenaries, the merchants, and their laguz friends gathered at a long table for dinner, and halfway through the meal, Ike confronted Ilyana about her involvement in the Daein Revolution. Soren had expected this might be coming.

“I heard the Black Knight fought in the rebellion,” he said during the second course. His voice was directed at Ilyana, but Daniel and Jorge were sitting on either side of her and both looked as if they’d just been scolded. Ilyana was too busy stuffing her face to look chastised.

“Hmm?” she mumbled around the leg she was expertly undressing with her teeth.

“Did you meet him?” Ike asked outright. He was obviously trying to keep his tone casual (he was never one to lash out at his friends), but the barb in his voice couldn’t be blunted.

Ilyana cocked her head and lowered the bone. “The Black Knight always stayed at Micaiah’s side in battle,” she recalled, “And when the fighting was done, he would disappear—poof!” Raising a hand, she cast out all her fingers in a single burst.

“While I doubt the man ‘poofed’, per say,” Muston agreed from farther down the table, “I never saw him after a battle. He never came to me to have his armor or sword repaired.”

“And he certainly never came to my shop.” Aimee leaned across the table to grasp Ike’s hand, which he quickly pulled away so she couldn’t reach it. “I would never serve the nasty man who hurt my sweet Ikey.”

“Er, glad to hear it.” Ike forced a smile, but he clearly wasn’t happy.

“When the Black Knight appeared to support Ashnard’s son, did it never occur to you Daein might be in the wrong?” Soren found himself asking. These supposed friends had betrayed Ike, and he wanted to know why.

“No, that’s not what I mea-” Ike tried to diffuse the accusation.

“I don’t know about the Knight,” Aimee said primly, “But Micaiah is an absolute gem! And Prince- or rather, King Pelleas seems kind enough.”

Daniel and Jorge nodded their agreement.

“We were in jail when Micaiah found us,” Ilyana added in a distant voice. “The Begnion soldiers only fed us once a day. But when she came, she said I could eat three meals a day with the Daein Army.”

Ike shook his head, but the corners of his mouth were upturned in a tiny smile. “Fair enough,” he said. “I’m just glad you’re all okay.”

“Daein wasn’t in the wrong,” Haar spoke up. “Jill wouldn’t still be there if there wasn’t hope for setting Daein back to the way it’s supposed to be.”  

“Meg too!” Brom added from a few seats down. The rest of the conversation had died, and it appeared everyone was listening now. “I’m so proud of her! She left home to find a husband and found a war instead! Golly, she’s going to be even stronger than me someday.” He nudged Oscar, who was sitting beside him, “Have I shown you her picture?” He began rummaging in his pockets for the rolled-up painting of Meg in Nevassa that he’d been showing everyone since he’d arrived.

“I trust Jill’s judgement,” Ike replied to Haar, “don’t get me wrong. Sothe and Tauroneo too—they both fought at the head of the army, right? I’m sure they made the right decision.”

Haar seemed satisfied with this and returned to his food.

“It’s just this matter of the Black Knight…” Ike sighed, and his gaze fell on Mist, who looked even more solemn than him. Clearly she had the same reservations.

“Well, I’ve heard that the enemy of your enemy is your friend,” Jorge offered, “but that doesn’t mean the friend of your enemy has to be your enemy, right?” He was clearly trying to lighten the mood, but his attempt at humor fell flat.

“Actually,” Soren replied coldly, “it does.”

  

The next day, Titania and Skrimir started running the laguz troops through drills designed to oppose and disrupt traditional Begnion formations in open battle. Meanwhile, Ranulf and Lyre began selecting and organizing a legion of laguz spies. And once Heather made it clear she had a knack for getting into places she wasn’t support to (by listening in on one of their supposedly private meetings), she started supporting them in an official capacity. Soren adjusted her contract so she would be compensated for the added commitment.

Ike and Kyza were busy trying out new laguz-based siege techniques using the gates around Mugill as tests. Lethe was helping Lieutenant Mordo divide their troops evenly between Mugill and Flaguerre. And Mist and Mordecai were liaising with the Begnion civilians, promising they would be treated fairly if they cooperated. They were also allowing those who lived in the surrounding villages to return to their homes as long as they continued to provide food for the laguz troops.

Soren, meanwhile, was reviewing the incoming reports and deciding the best locations to station outposts and patrols so that the Gallian Army would be able to maintain control of the region and provide sufficient warning if Begnion launched a counterattack in the coming days.

  

Later that week, Soren, Ike, and Ranulf organized the first mission to keep Skrimir pacified. The lion led a small regiment of his soldiers to a winter food stockpile on a nobleman’s land to the northeast. The mission was successful, and his soldiers trotted back to Mugill with heavily laden carts. Skrimir was obviously glad for the exercise, and Ranulf was grateful Soren had found something for the prince to do.

The next week, Soren sent Skrimir on another mission, this time to take out a row of three outposts and allow the Gallian Army to expand their sphere of influence.

The week after that, they raided a senator’s summer mansion for gold and valuables, and for a few days, Ranulf had plenty of funds for supplies. This way, they could purchase directly from the Begnion citizens instead of continuing to steal from them. Soren saw no difference between stealing a cow versus buying a cow with stolen coins or trading a cow for a stolen jewel necklace. But he didn’t point out this fact to Ike and the others.

  

Eventually the Northern Army sent a vanguard of a thousand soldiers to reclaim Mugill, and the Gallian Army easily crushed them. Soren knew of the attack days before it happened, and he suggested Skrimir hide two battalions of soldiers in the surrounding hills while a force was deployed outside Mugill as bait. When the Begnion soldiers arrived, they were beset on all sides, and less than a hundred survived the slaughter.

Kyza interrogated these survivors, and Soren was able to gain additional insight into exactly where the senators had amassed their forces in the east. “This is it,” Soren announced to Ike and Ranulf. “We are ready to take Telgam.”

“Wait, that’s all you needed?” Ranulf asked in surprise.

Soren shook his head. “The intelligence from the captured soldiers was an added benefit, but the attack itself is what I needed. Our invasion of Telgam will now be seen as reactionary.”

“I’m not following,” Ike said, raising his hands. “How does that help us?”

“The Laguz Alliance has an advantage as long as Begnion thinks the Gallians are stupid and passive. If they think they are only motivated by instinct and anger, it will be harder for them to predict our moves and see through our stratagems.”

“So, we really were just biding our time…” Ike’s shoulders sank.

“Yes,” Soren admitted. “Doing so has made the Gallian Army look like it is waffling on the edge of war. The Northern Army’s counterattack has revealed that the senators honestly thought a force so meager could scare us into running back to Gallia.”

“You mean, you’ve been wasting our time to make us look weak?” Ranulf translated with wide eyes. “Skrimir is not going to like that!”

“Then don’t tell him,” Soren shot back. “And I was not wasting our time.” He folded his arms. “There was merely an added strategic advantage to waiting.”

“All that matters is that we’re moving on to Telgam now,” Ike moderated. “Skrimir is going to be happy to hear that at least.”

Ranulf sighed and nodded. “I’ll go give him the news.”

 

The Gallian Army marched and raided their way across western Telgam, only falling into skirmishes with local outposts left to guard the farmland. However, there was nothing these minor regiments could do, and giving up their lives didn’t stop the laguz from eating the people’s livestock. Ike insisted they leave enough for the civilians to survive until spring, but Soren was unsure whether that rule was being adhered to.

As they left the high elevation of Begnion’s northwestern region behind, the days grew warmer and the nights more tolerable. The sixteen mercenaries rode on horseback as often as they walked (except for Haar who preferred to fly whenever possible), and at night they slept in three tents alongside the convoy wagons at the center of the Gallians’ yurt camp.

Each day, Soren continued to gather intelligence, and he directed the battle-hungry soldiers to their next targets. There were two main locations they would have to seize to force the Northern Army out of Telgam: Fort Sevier in the west and Telgam City in the east.

Soren understood the senator’s decision to fortify these two locations: Fort Sevier was the largest and sturdiest in the region, and Telgam City was home of a vast castle and three large towers. The land and rolling hills were open around it, which were ideal for visibility. The Laguz Army wouldn’t be able to sneak up on them in the night.

However, Soren was prepared to meet these challenges. On his instruction, Skrimir and Ike sought entrance to Fort Sevier via the old sewers. By doing so, they completely bypassed the town surrounding the fort, the roads of which were well-stocked with soldiers waiting for an army that would never come (from the outside at least). Sevier’s commander surely didn’t expect the laguz to try anything but a straightforward assault, and neither the sewer outlets nor the fort’s grated tunnels were guarded.

Adapted ox bows and chains allowed the laguz to easily pull the grates away from the stone, and soon hundreds of beasts were pouring into the fort—all filthy and foul-smelling, Soren couldn’t help but notice (not that he was faring much better after the march through the sewers). They took the garrison by surprise, and when the battalion stationed in town realized what was happening, they surged back toward the fort. However, their own walls bottlenecked them at the gates, and here the laguz—more of whom were charging through the tunnels every minute—butchered them tirelessly.

  

After taking a couple days’ rest, the army resumed their march across Telgam, pilfering farms along the way to sustain the soldiers’ daily taste for fresh meat. Soren used this time to conjure an optimal strategy for taking Telgam City. He already knew the lay of the land from the last time the mercenaries had been here—three years ago at the Telgam Games. This experience did little to help him now, but his knowledge of Begnion’s climate did.

The wet season of the Begnion winter was behind them, and this region would not see rain again until spring. The grass trampled by the Gallians’ paws was brittle and dry, and the wind that blew over the low hills twisted in every direction.

“We can use the threat of fire to draw out the enemy,” he announced at the next war meeting. “The land is ripe for controlled burning, and I am certain the people of Telgam know this.” He traced the lines crisscrossing the map. “These roads and firebreaks bar the outer fields from those nearer the city, but you will notice there are none within a mile of the city limits.” He pressed his finger down on the location he had selected. “If we set up our camp here, we will be far out of range of the city’s towers and can dig a protective trench and plow our own firebreak.”

Ike was scowling like he hated this plan. “I think I can speak for everyone present when I say I won’t condone a plan that could kill thousands of civilians.”

“I’m with Ike,” Ranulf agreed.

“Burning the city from afar! That would be dishonorable,” Skrimir declared.

“Really, Soren,” Titania clicked her tongue, “There are some lengths I thought even you wouldn’t go to.”

Soren withstood the barrage of disapproval with his head held high. “You weren’t listening,” he reprimanded them. “I said the threat of fire. The purpose of this plan is not to roast the city, it is to draw the troops out to protect it.” Everyone’s expressions softened at this realization. “When they see what we are doing, they will seek to stop us. Beast laguz are better suited to a field battle than fighting in the narrow streets, and since the troops stationed in Telgam outnumber us, we need that advantage.”

Everyone was silent for a moment. “I suppose that could work,” Titania consented.

“If they come to us, we will kill them easily!” Skrimir agreed.

“What if they call our bluff?” Ranulf asked, not giving in as easily. “Or what if they don’t even care? They could just evacuate the outer districts instead of attacking us.”

“Ranulf’s right,” Ike said with a shake of his head. “Then there’s always the chance they try to burn us before we can burn them.”

Soren was pleasantly surprised that Ranulf and Ike were demonstrating such sound logic. “You are both correct,” he said, “Those are valid possibilities, and for each I have a solution.” He raised one finger. “If the Begnion troops do not come to us by the time we have the firebreak complete, we burn the field after all. We use the smoke as cover, and we take that cover as deep into the city as we can without suffocating ourselves. We bypass the towers and concentrate our assault on the castle. The success of this attack will hinge on the speed of our conquest, and only a small battalion will be necessary. The main force can launch its own attack upwind of the fire, but we cannot count on that being enough of a diversion. If the insurgent battalion is not fast enough, we will be trapped by city troops, the castle garrison troops, and a fire of our own making at our backs.”

“Well, that sounds horrible,” Ike said glumly.

Soren raised a second finger. “Two: if Begnion sets fire to the field, we use the smoke as cover and do the same thing.”

“That sounds even worse!” Ike complained.

Soren set his hands down on his lap. “Telgam City will not be easily won. Some risk must be involved.”

“Let the humans know the fear of fire!” Skrimir said decidedly. “I do not fear it!”

Soren nodded once to accept his ridiculous bravado. “If all goes according to plan, no fire will be involved. To the commander of that city, this army is nothing but a rampaging mob of mindless animals. When they see us playing with fire, they will want to put an end to it. They will come in the night, and they will not expect a trap.”

“I believe you said something about trenches…” Titania recalled with a smile.

“We have a lot of work to do when we arrive,” Soren agreed. “We should plan everything ahead of time.” With that, the war council proceeded to finalize the details of his strategy, and no one questioned its soundness again. 

 

When Telgam City appeared before them, the Gallian Army set up camp as planned and, in perfect view, started digging. Although they detested it, the strongest laguz consented to being yoked by the ox bows again, and this time they pulled plows stolen from nearby farms. They worked hard, and Soren soon realized they were accomplishing their task too quickly and warned Ranulf to slow them down. After all, they needed time for the Begnion troops to stew in their fear and come to the desired decision.

The trench-digging troops, on the other hand, didn’t get a break, and additional units were busy sharpening spiked sticks while hidden within the yurts—safely out of view of the anxiously watching Begnion troops in their towers. Outside, they built the central cookfire into an ominously large bonfire (keeping it safely contained of course).

  

At dusk, Soren told Ranulf to call in the plowing troops, leaving the firebreak just barely unfinished. But the trench was complete, and over a thousand laguz were hunkered down inside. When it was dark enough, Ranulf gave the order for the wooden spikes to be planted in the freshly tilled loam. Now, they waited to see if Begnion would make its move.

“How long do you think we’ll have to wait?” Ike grumbled, peeking past the tent flap at the city lights above. He was armed and armored.

Soren sat cross-legged and yawned. “Probably all night,” he admitted. “If the commander knows beast laguz have superior night vision, they should launch their assault just before daybreak so their troops have the benefit of daylight after the initial ambush.” He shrugged meaningfully. “It is what I would do.”

Ike groaned. “This is going to be a long night.”

“Agreed,” Soren said simply. “But…” He withdrew Daniel and Jorge’s boardgame from beneath the blanket beside him. “I did borrow this from the merchant brothers, if you would like to play to pass the time.”

Ike’s eyes brightened, and his mouth turned into a nostalgic smile. “Just like the Mad King’s War…” he recalled. “We had a lot of sleepless nights back then too, didn’t we?”

“An inevitable consequence of war,” Soren agreed.

Ike moved away from the tent flap and sat across from him. “I’ll beat you this time,” he declared with a cunning grin.

Soren couldn’t help but smile in return. “If that were possible, you wouldn’t need a chief strategist. I would be out of the job.” He began setting up the pieces.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Ike chuckled, “I’ll probably always need you.”

Soren didn’t respond, and despite the fact that he was sitting at the edge of battle, waiting for an ambush or a raging fire to reach him, he felt safe and happy. Even though he and Ike were sharing this tent with three other mercenaries, he could easily imagine they weren’t there. Right now, they were just going to play a game.

 

As Soren had predicated, Begnion cavalry troops came charging down the field just when the sky was starting to brighten. Many of their horses tripped or became impaled on the spikes, but in the darkness and confusion, the commander didn’t understand she’d been conned. She did not call a retreat.

Regiments of infantry and ranged units fanned out to pick off escapees, but the laguz weren’t fleeing. Still the Begnion commander didn’t seemed to realize she was charging into a trap. When the entire cavalry regiment had crossed the trench, Skrimir called at the top of his lungs: “Now! Attack now!”

Laguz launched out of the trench in their shifted forms, tearing into the infantrymen and archers who’d just arrived at the barrier. Meanwhile, the yurts exploded from the inside out, and cats, tigers, and lions burst to meet the cavalry head-on. Horses reared in terror, and some threw their riders.

Soren had been watching everything from the tent flap with Ike beside him, but now that Skrimir had given the order, he and the other mercenaries erupted from their own tents, laying waste to the confused Begnions.

The sky continued to brighten and pinken, and even before the sun had shown itself, the two armies were locked in a serious battle. Realizing their ambush had been turned against them, the Begnion commander called for her troops to regroup. Soren heard her voice and the trumpeter at her side relaying her orders, but even without interpreting them, he knew enough about Begnion field maneuvers to predict what she would do. She was trying to salvage her archer regiments and get them into a defensible position behind at least three rows of infantry while the cavalry worked the corners, refusing to allow any laguz to get around.

However, Titania knew these maneuvers as well, and she had been training the Gallian Army how to counteract them. Skrimir and Ranulf rallied their troops now: “Everyone to the right! Their right flank! Charge now!”

The galloping felines applied their full strength to taking out the cavalry on the right side. When the sun rose, it rose on a mess of kicking horses, crawling soldiers, scrambling cats, and bounding lions and tigers. Horses neighed pitifully where they fell, and the laguz limped on with broken limbs and concussions.

Although her troops still equaled the laguz in number, the Begnion commander was frantic now that her formation had been ruined. For a few minutes, she tried to reclaim it, urging her infantry to come around the side and for the cavalry on the opposite end to come around the back. However, the laguz troops had access to her archers now, and they were slaughtering them faster than they could fire.

“Retreat!” came the commander’s call and, and the signal was blown by the trumpeter beside her. But Skrimir wouldn’t let her go; the giant lion bounded through the enemy troops, apparently unconcerned by the possibility that he might be stabbed or shot. He had eyes only for this woman’s fancy helmet and prettily armored steed.

Soren watched them fight while using wind magic to fend off arrows. He and Ilyana were part of the reason the laguz had been able to foil the commander’s retreat attempt. However, now that they were firing at will instead of in coordinated volleys, it was much harder to stop them.

“Ah!” Ilyana cried when an arrow found its mark in her shoulder. The force knocked her to the ground, where she pressed on the wound, gritting her teeth. A second later, another arrow found her foot and her entire body convulsed. “Ssss!”

The laguz around them were being hit hard by the uneven yet unceasing rain of arrows. Soren kept chanting, but there was only so much he could do. Then, all at once, one arrow found his thigh, another his stomach, and another split his ear. Unable to stay standing, he fell to the ground beside Ilyana. With one hand he held his leg, with the other his side.

“Fall back, you two!” came Ike’s voice, and Soren turned to him. Picking up a fallen shield, Ike used it and the armor on the right side of his body to shelter them from the incoming arrows. “You’ve done enough!”

“Then you…have to…fall back too,” Soren argued despite the blood forcing its way up his esophagus. “Let the laguz handle this!”

Just then, an arrow pegged Ike in the back of his knee. He lurched violently but didn’t fall. “Alright,” he agreed. “Let’s move!”

Pushing through the pain, Soren rolled over and got himself up on his good leg. Hanging onto each other, all three limped away from the battle and only stopped when they were safe from Begnion’s archers. Here Mist found them. “There you are!” she scolded, “I lost track of you, Brother! You need to be more careful in battles like this.” She took some of Soren’s weight, and he fell into her. He was losing too much blood, and his vision was fading to gray.

“Hey, I didn’t go far,” Ike argued, settling himself down and trying to inspect the arrow.

Mist batted his hand away. “Don’t touch that; I’ll fix it in a second!”

Soren tried to ignore their affectionate bickering and keep track of the battle going on past Mist’s shoulder. But once she removed the arrow in his stomach, blood started flowing freely and he passed out.

  

When he woke up, he was lying on the bristly grass, and his hands and feet were numb with cold. Standing up, he saw that the battle had clearly moved on without him. Glancing at the position of the sun, he judged no more than an hour could have passed. Looking at the ground, he saw dead bodies in piles and injured bodies in neat rows. Those who’d already been healed were sleeping soundly: Shinon, Brom, Mia, and a few laguz. The rest of the injured laguz (of which there were far, far more) were writhing in pain or quietly clenching their fists and trying not to move. A few uninjured laguz were acting as guards, and Soren wondered if they would answer him if he asked about the current state of the battle.

Rather than risk being ignored, however, he decided to figure out the situation for himself. He heard fighting coming from the city, so he picked up his tome and trudged in that direction as swiftly as he could. When he arrived, he followed the trail of blood and bodies and only cast a spell whenever a fleeing soldier saw him and panicked.

Eventually he made his way to the castle, where it appeared Skrimir, Ike, and the others were wrapping up their siege and sending the surviving garrison troops running to the hills. Taking a moment to catch his breath, Soren leaned against the wall of a building opposite the castle. His throat was parched, and he was desperate for water. Mist may have healed him, but she couldn’t do anything to take away his lightheadedness or fatigue. While he recovered from the walk, he surveyed the damage.

It appeared the Gallian Army had had no problem taking the city after defeating the majority of the troops in the field. At least one of the towers had been seized, and the others would be vacated soon (if they hadn’t already). The castle was emptying now, and Soren had no doubt Ike was somewhere inside. Summoning the reserves of his strength, he pushed himself off of the wall and forced one foot in front of the other. He belonged at Ike’s side, so that was where he would go.

He eventually found him running down some stairs inside the castle, and when Ike caught sight of him in return, his eyes lit up. “Ah, there you are, Soren!” he said, skipping down the remaining steps. Titania, Nephenee, Boyd, and Mist were all behind him. “We’re just finishing with the north wing! Help us clear the dungeons, and we’ll be done!”

Seeing Ike’s face, Soren caught his friend’s unflagging energy like a contagion. “Lead the way,” he replied, and when Ike and the others started running again, he found he could suddenly run too.

 

Soren was feeling much better the next day, when the army’s leadership met to discuss their next objective. Scouts reported that the remaining forces in Telgam hold were moving east into Seliora, and Soren had no doubt this was where the survivors of yesterday’s battle were headed as well. The Laguz Alliance had won another important victory, but they couldn’t afford to take it easy or go slow now that they’d delved this deep into Begnion.

“Flaguerre, Mugill, and Telgam are ours, but this war has just started,” Ranulf began, echoing Soren’s thoughts. “The enemy’s main force is stationed around the Sienne. The real fight starts now.”

“Ah!” Skrimir barked appreciatively. “Now we fight the big battle! My claws itch for beorc flesh. Hey Ranulf, are there any strong enemies in the capital?”

“There will be plenty,” Ranulf answered, although his eyebrow twitched and Soren wondered if he was resisting the urge to scold Skrimir again. “But before we go, we must defeat the northern nobles. Their collective army is massive.”

Although he agreed with Ranulf’s assessment, Soren was not particularly worried about the Northern Army. “By now, I imagine the Begnion Central Army is heading our way,” he noted, “They’re going to be our real problem.”

“So, if we’re too slow, we get caught in the middle,” Titania translated (perhaps for Skrimir’s sake).

“I don’t like the sound of this…” Ike grabbed his chin and frowned at the map. Ranulf had been able to mark the enemy forces to the east with much more detail than the south. He’d merely estimated the location and strength of the Central Army from the last report they’d received from the bird tribes, which had been a week and a half ago. Needless to say, the map wasn’t very informative. “Soren, do you have a deployment plan worked out?”

Soren did, and he was about to answer when Ranulf cut him off: “Actually, why don’t you all just relax? You might not believe this, but we have a plan this time!” Both he and Skrimir looked quite satisfied with themselves.

Ike looked genuinely excited, but Soren decided to reserve his judgment. He crossed his arms while Ike said: “Let’s hear it!”

“The Ribahn River separates Telgam from Seliora,” Ranulf began, pointing to the lengthy tributary on the map, “so crossing that is going to be our next objective. Our scouts report that the Northern Army has already taken up positions in the Sestohl Plains. They’re spread out pretty evenly along the western bank of the river. Skrimir and I plan to divide our army into three groups and attack here, here, and here.” He tapped three places along the river, all of which were contained within a large marshy region where the water should be easily fordable this time of year. “Our goal will be to force the troops in the middle to retreat across the river. Once that happens, the line should crumple,” Ranulf declared confidently. “The river troops will try to fall back to a more defensible position in northern Seliora, but we won’t let them get far.”

“Aren’t you forgetting the Central Army?” Soren asked pointedly. “If you step over that river, you will be facing two armies. The northern forces could even lead you into a trap while you pursue them.”

“I’m getting to that!” Ranulf replied excitedly. “We won’t have to worry about the Central Army for a couple weeks at least, because I’ve already given Tibarn and Naesala new instructions! Instead of attacking the Central Army or reuniting with us, they are going to harass their supply train!” He was clearly proud of his idea.

“I see.” Titania nodded slowly. “An army of that size would require a massive amount of supplies to be able to sustain itself.  So the bird tribes will hit the Central Army’s supply unit and slow their advance.”

“Exactly.” Ranulf crossed his arms. “The empire fears the bird tribes. The Shipless Pirates, they’re called. They specialize in surprise attacks and have been raiding Begnion merchant ships for years.”

“After they hit the supply unit, the bird tribes will head north,” Ike spoke up. “We’ll meet up with them after we finish the nobles’ forces. Then, when the Central Army arrives, we’ll attack them together—Does that pretty much sum it up?”

Ranulf’s crossed arms turned suddenly pouty, and he was clearly disappointed he didn’t get to finish explaining the strategy. “Yeah, that’s it.”

In response, Ike turned to Soren. He was smirking, perhaps anticipating his acceptance of a halfway-decent Gallian plan. “I’m surprised,” Soren admitted dryly. “As laguz strategies go, it’s not bad at all. We might even win—provided everything goes as planned.”

“Everything will go as planned!” Skrimir assured. “The plan is perfect! The attacking in three parts was my idea you know.” This he said directly to Soren, who could only grimace in reply. He refused to give the lion the praise he desired, even if it was oddly gratifying to know the stupid prince actually wanted his praise at all.