Leif of Leonster Translations

-II-

“It’ll probably take us less than an hour to reach the castle from here. Our path there is flat the entire way. As far as I can tell, there’s no possible locations the enemy could ambush us from, and all of their camps in the area have been mercilessly destroyed. That, and…”

Marth and the others had just caught back up with the Whitewing sisters, who’d returned from gathering reconnaissance. 

Mere moments after Palla started sharing their report, she suddenly fell silent.

“...And what? What’s the situation like at the castle?” Marth urged her to continue.

Est opened her mouth to speak instead. “About that… The castle is in ruins! And not because it was damaged in battle or by a fire or anything like that… It looks like it fell apart over a long, loooong time! I didn’t sense anyone inside it, multiple sections of it are crumbled to pieces, and it was super, duper dusty!”

“But we only saw it from far away… So we can’t say anything for sure…” Catria added.

“C’mon Catria, you know I have the best eyes out of the three of us!”

“Don’t speak so confidently… when you don’t know anything for sure…”

“Bleeeeeeh!”

Palla must have trailed her sentence off because she wasn’t certain about what they saw, either. A report based on conjecture could destroy their army. Knowing that made her hesitate.

“What should we do, Prince Marth?” Cain urged him to give his next orders already.

Marth held up a hand to signal to him to hold that thought, then crossed his arms and started thinking.

Was this a giant trap, something else entirely, or had Emperor Medeus already left the country? He considered each possibility and weighed each action they could take next one by one. The others were all just as lost in thought. …All of them except for Est, that is, who looked bored out of her mind and was swinging her feet from atop her pegasus. 

Finally, Marth declared his short and sweet decision. It was a sentence of a mere three words. “Let’s just go.”

“But Marth, shouldn’t we gather a little more information?” Merric asked. “If we wait until nightfall, we could probably blend into the darkness and get closer to the castle…”

“No, I don’t think so. Even if we tried, there’s no enemy soldiers or villagers here to tell us anything. It would be no use. Waiting until nightfall won’t change that. If this land really has been abandoned completely, we need to confirm that as quickly as possible and head back to Archanea.”

Marth was exactly right. They couldn’t afford to waste time wandering around a country in ruins without reaching any conclusions. He was also worried about Princess Nyna, Hardin, and the others; and it was also entirely possible that an enemy unit was on the border, awaiting the chance to take the Archanea Liberation Army out once and for all.

“But Prince Marth, your primary goal is to save Lady Elise, and…”

“Don’t say another word, Abel. Of course I’m worried about my sister too, but we should confirm the emperor’s whereabouts first. Elice is in Medeus’ grasp. If he’s not here, then she won’t be, either.”

“You’re right.”

“Then it’s settled. We’ll charge straight into the castle! We don’t know what might happen, so don’t let your guard down. It’s almost impossible for the enemy to ambush us at this point, but there might be a trap or two waiting for us, so be prepared, everyone!”

The chosen six all nodded strongly in response to Marth’s words.

-III-

Est’s report turned out to be correct. The castle was in such disrepair that it looked like it had been abandoned for hundreds of years. All of the many moats encircling the building had been completely filled in by dirt the wind had blown inside them, the front gate was wide open, and the entire castle wall was crumbling apart. Chunks of it were scattered throughout the garden, as were piles of even more human and manakete bones.

Dolhr Castle was an utterly destroyed, silent ruin. It was no longer a castle, but a massive gravesite.

“Even the garden is exactly the same as everywhere else! There’s not a person to be seen. There don’t seem to be any traps, either. Everything is just… in ruins.” Palla reported.

“Right?! Just like I told you, isn’t it?!” Est shouted.

“The east wing… is in the exact same state… Filled only with a mountain of rubble… and human bones…” Catria explained.

“What should we do now, Prince Marth? We’ve reached our conclusion. Should we leave right away? Or should we rest nearby for the night?” Cain asked.

Marth took one good look at their surroundings, then turned back towards him. “No, I at least want to check the throne room. There’s a chance we’ll find some sort of clue in it.”

“Understood! Looking at how the castle was constructed, my best guess is that the throne room is in the central tower.” Cain waved at Palla, who was observing their surroundings from over his head.

“Do you need me for something?”

“The throne room should be in the central tower, but how can we enter it? There’s too much rubble blocking my view, and I can’t see it very well from here. Can you get a good look at it from above?”

“We can’t.”

“Huh?”

“We inspected it earlier. The castle’s central and biggest tower collapsed at its base. It’s completely destroyed. Its upper floors snapped off as cleanly as a twig would from a tree.”

They all fell silent for a long moment, until Abel breathed a huge sigh.

“I can’t believe it… Both the manakete’s castle and its throne room are long gone… There’s nothing we can do. We have no idea what happened, but this place is just a giant pile of rubble now. It’s hard to believe that this was once the heart of the Dolhr Empire and the Kingdom of Dolhr’s castle.”

Just then, there was a sudden gust of wind. It kicked up a cloud of dirt, then blew into the rubble-filled garden. Marth felt that it was strangely similar to the breath of a living creature. It was the exhale of something massive and violent - and that something was not human nor beast, but from another dimension.

“Did you feel that, Marth?” Merric asked him as he looked around suspiciously.

“You too, Merric?”

“Yes… Something is lurking around us. I’m a wind mage. I would know. That gust of wind told me that something is lurking within this rubble.”

“It sure did seem like it…”

When Cain realized what Marth and Merric were implying, he asked with a confused look on his face, “What the hell’s happening? What exactly was that wind, then?!”

“Be on guard, everyone! This place doesn’t seem to be an ordinary ruin. Something is lurking among us. And I think it’s something cunning… something evil.”

In response to Marth’s words, everyone shifted into a battle stance. Palla and her sisters formed a triangle formation in the sky, and Cain and Abel stood back-to-back as they raised their lances. Merric swiftly jumped off his horse, and Marth put a hand on Falchion.

And a mere moment later… Marth heard a noise that resembled a low buzz come from somewhere. It was a faint sound, like that of a bee’s wings.

“Is that coming from my belt? Could it be Falchion?” Marth wondered aloud in shock as he put a hand on Falchion’s hilt. It had to be. The buzzing noise had to be coming from Falchion. The entire sword was vibrating. Each shake was small, but intense, even as he unsheathed it. The vibrations could not be seen with the naked eye, but the buzzing noise became distinctly louder, enough for everyone to hear it.

“Falchion is reacting to something!”

“But what? What could it be?!”

“How could I know?!” Marth pointed Falchion’s shaking tip at the pile of rubble. He didn’t know why he did so - it was as if his body was moving on its own.

The low buzz intensified further. Falchion had found what it was looking for.

“Underneath that mountain of rubble that used to be the castle… Someone is waiting for us there. That’s what Falchion is telling me.”

Marth started to move forward without waiting for anyone to respond. There was no need to look for the front gate - the castle wall was in such disrepair that they could easily find a way in from any side of the castle grounds.

“Please wait, Prince Marth! It’s too dangerous! What if this is a trap?!”

Marth heard Cain shout from behind him, and his feet stopped for a moment. Who was waiting for them inside the rubble? There was no doubt that at the very least, they were dangerous. How could the prince just march right up to them unguarded?

The castle interior was probably in a terrible state as well. Rubble and hunks of crumbled stone would block their path, and the sunlight might not reach them, either. And it went without saying that Cain, Abel, and the Whitewings would have to go on foot. With their mobility cut in half, their combat abilities would be drastically reduced, too.

Still…

“If they were going to show themselves to us, they would have already. Seems our only option is to go to them.” And with that, Marth passed through the crumbling castle wall and walked straight towards the castle building with strong, confident steps. 

Merric followed him first, then Cain and Abel, then finally the Whitewings. They all walked inside the castle, each holding their favorite weapons, with sharp gazes that scanned in all four directions as they proceeded. The four horses and three pegasi all saw their riders off with worry in their eyes.

To everyone’s surprise, the castle interior was mostly intact, and because the windows were constructed to allow as much daylight inside as possible, they had a clear enough view of their surroundings to get a good look around. But it was still dilapidated, and just as many bones were scattered across the floor as there were outside. Every single time they took a footstep, they could not avoid stepping on the bones and crushing them with a loud crunch. The unique feeling that shot from the soles of their shoes through their bodies was unsettling even to six seasoned heroes such as themselves.

They traveled down a wide hallway until finally, a massive door blocked their path. Their best guess was that it was around forty shaku in height, and made from a once tall and sturdy live oak tree.*

“This door looks like something you would see in a cathedral! Is it because we worship the manakete as we do gods? It feels… strange, somehow…” Merric poked the door with his pointer finger. The dust clinging to it floated into the air like a puff of smoke.

“Prince Marth, is Falchion still buzzing?” Cain asked.

“No, it stopped a while ago. For now, let’s open this giant door. With our numbers, we should be able to manage against whatever is on the other side.”

“I hope the hinges aren’t rusted together… if they’re still even screwed in to begin with.”

Marth nodded in agreement with Cain’s words, and returned Falchion to its sheath. Everyone else followed suit and put away their own weapons, then they lined up side-by-side, and held on to the door as hard as they could.

“It feels like we’re thieves breaking into a castle! Just like Julian!”

“...Isn’t this more like… graverobbing, though…?”

“Est, Catria, focus! Let’s show them just how strong us girls really are!” Palla cheered.

“Heck yeah, Sis!” Est nodded.

“Alright everyone, now push!” At Marth’s order, everyone put their strength into the door in whichever way they most preferred. 

But despite pushing with all the might in their bodies, the door didn’t even budge an inch, much less open. It felt more like they were pushing against a boulder.

“Damn you, door!” Cain was known as the Bull for a reason. He put an extra burst of strength into his push, the door moved ever so slightly with a grating creak. Just like a small amount of extra water can cause floodgates to burst, that was all they needed to slowly push the door open.

“That should be good.” Marth said once the crack was just big enough to let them through. They all breathed a huge sigh of relief in unison. After a brief pause, they slipped inside the cathedral.

“Th-This isn’t…” Merric was the first to step inside. What he saw made him gasp.

The cathedral was a massive, circular room with a dome ceiling. Stunning fresco paintings adorned the walls. Surrounding them were skylights fitted with sublime, elegant stained glass windows through which beams of colorful, radiant light poured inside. It was a work of art so beautiful that only Archanea Palace could compare.

But Merric did not gasp because he was fascinated by its beauty… he gasped the moment he laid eye on the floor, covered entirely in human bones. It was unlike anything else they had seen up to this point. There were so many bones that made the entire cathedral feel more like a massive grave. Some were so small that they must have belonged to babies, and they were being cradled by larger bones - suggesting that they died in their mother’s arms.

“This isn’t a cathedral… it’s an ossuary!” Merric said quietly in utter shock as he stood frozen and unable to move. 

“I never imagined such cruelty could exist in this world!” Cain looked away, unable to withstand the sight any longer.

“By the gods… What happened here?!” Even the resilient Palla and the always expressionless Catria were frozen in fear, and their bodies were shaking. 

Est, meanwhile, was so terrified that she looked like she was going to faint at any moment.

“Do not look at it for another second more, Palla!” Abel immediately pushed her back out the door.

The light that passed through the stained glass dyed the bones an unsettling color, and transformed the fresco paintings depicting the heavens into a bleak sight to behold.

“C’mon, Marth! Let’s leave this place at once!” Merric put a hand on Marth’s shoulder, who was staring straight ahead, speechless.

“No…” Marth swatted away Merric’s hand and continued to stare straight ahead in shock. At first, Merric thought Marth was as horrified by the ghastly sight before them as he was, but that was not what Marth was actually staring at. He was looking over the pile of bones, at the altar much deeper inside the cathedral, shrouded in darkness.

Merric stared at it warily as well. Its surroundings were so dimly lit that from here, it looked like nothing more than a mass of overlapping shadows. When he squinted, several faint silhouettes popped out from the darkness. The first were those of the candles of all shapes and sizes, then came two goddess statues facing each other, stone tablets with holy scriptures carved into them, an offering plate that looked to be made from silver, and finally, another goddess statue different from the first two…

‘No wait, that’s…!’ Merric shrieked inside his head. He was in so much shock that he couldn’t get the words out.

She was no goddess statue, but a person. A flesh and blood woman. Her long purple hair reached down to her waist, her arms were long and slender, and her beautiful face was so pale that it was not strange at all to confuse her for a statue.

He could never forget her. He could never forget the face etched into the deepest depths of his heart alongside his most treasured childhood memories…

“That’s Lady Elice!”

“That’s my sister!”

Merric and Marth shouted at almost the exact same time.

“That’s Lady… Elice? The princess? What is Princess Elice doing in a place like this?!”

“That’s her, I know it! That has to be Princess Elice on the altar!”

By the time Cain and Abel realized who she was, Marth and Merric were already treading towards her through the layer of bones thicker than carpet. They were so surprised and impatient to reach her that they nearly tripped and fell over the bones several times on the way there.

“Elice! Big sister!”

“Why is she here? And on this altar?!”

However, Elice, kneeling in a prayer position, did not move a muscle, and her eyes were shut tight. Thinking that she was already dead, Marth’s expression fell with intense grief.

Merric took her arm into his hand and checked her wrist for a pulse. “She’s alright! She has a pulse, and she feels warm!” He told everyone with an ear-to-ear grin on his face.

Marth’s expression changed from grief to joy in an instant.

“Prince Marth, how is she?!

“Is she okay?!”

Cain and Abel asked as they rushed over with worry written all over them.

“Her life doesn’t seem to be in danger. But…”

But she did not open her eyes. She had a pulse, her heartbeat was normal, and she was breathing. Her face was pale, but not a sickly pale. Yet she did not move a muscle. She was a living statue inside this massive cathedral.

“...It’s like… time around her… has stopped.” Catria said, her voice so quiet it was nearly a whisper.

The moment those words reached Merric’s ears, his eyes widened, and he suddenly shouted, “She’s under a curate’s self-hypnosis! Curates can shut off their consciousness, and only their consciousness, as if it were locked in a cage where time has stopped for all of eternity!”

Marth asked with a dumbfounded look on his face, “She’s under… a curate’s “self-hypnosis”? Only her consciousness is locked away? So her consciousness is locked away in her mind?”

“Most likely. Hypnosis was first used as an anesthetic. Because heal spells cause intense pain, the curate would hypnotize an injured person before healing them. So I think she probably hypnotized herself.”

“And is there a way to break her out of it?”

“There isn’t. Only she can snap herself out of it. Even if we’d brought Lena or another curate along, they wouldn’t have been able to help.”

“So you’re saying Elice is stuck in an eternal slumber?! Is there really no way to wake her up?! What are we going to do, Merric?!”

“...When a person is put under hypnosis, the curate usually chooses a trigger that will break it. The trigger could be a chosen person speaking a chosen word out loud, or it might be a certain condition that has to be met. That alone decides when the person’s consciousness will be freed.”

Hearing that made Marth’s face light up a bit, however, his expression darkened again just as quickly. “But the person who knows the trigger is…”

“Exactly… Exactly, Marth. The only person who knows the trigger is the person who cast the hypnosis, Elice herself. Unless someone else overheard her say it, there is no possible way to awaken her from her eternal slumber. Well, we could try to guess little-by-little what it is, but I don’t think it’s likely that we would ever figure it out.”

Merric spoke the truth coldly through his pain. It was a cruel, unbearable truth. They had finally reunited with Elice, but she’d locked her consciousness deep within her own mind. And there was no way to awaken her from her slumber.

“Why? Why would she do something like this to herself…?” Marth collapsed to his knees in shock.

The expressions of his allies surrounding him were just as filled with grief. No one knew what to say to him.

Their silence and stillness was broken when a strange voice reached their ears. It resembled the noise of a door creaking open. “Welcome, chosen warriors of Archanea…”

Marth immediately leapt to his feet and searched for the source of the voice. The others all followed suit, scanning the area with a sharp gaze. Though they didn’t know how long he had been standing there, an elderly man was in the exact center of the cathedral.

He wore a crimson robe that covered his entire body. Countless deep wrinkles were carved into his face. His thick eyebrows and beard were silver, and his nose jutted out of his face like a sharp beak. His pupils were like that of a reptile, and stared Marth and his allies down with a piercing light.

A chilling feeling that could not be put into one mere word - a mixture of bloodlust, intimidation, fear, dread - made the mind and body of not only Marth, but of all his allies, shake uncontrollably. It was akin to the instinct that makes a frog shake when a snake glares at it, and makes a small bird shake when an eagle gazes upon it. Everyone present was trembling as that exact same feeling suffocated them.

This man was their natural enemy, as declared by the heavens the moment they were born. The fear currently crushing them was exactly what an animal would experience the moment they faced their natural enemy. Falchion began to buzz again from within its sheath attached to Marth’s belt. They had no need to ask the elderly man any questions. They realized exactly what and who he was.

Marth knew this feeling. It was similar to the one he felt in Archanea Palace when he challenged Dark Pontifex Gharnef. He was suffocated by a similar intimidating aura then, too. But this was as different as it was the same. Although it evoked the same fear, back then, he could still manage to throw words back at Gharnef. But this… this was different. He knew exactly who his opponent was, yet he couldn’t get himself to say his name.

Cain and Abel were doing all they could to withstand the heavy pressure threatening to crush them. Merric gasped for air as he desperately struggled to move his body. Palla, Catria, and Est were reliving the moment the giant Shadow Dragon destroyed Macedon Castle in an instant, drowning in the deepest depths of despair.

But why was that the exact moment they were reliving? The answer was simple. The elderly man standing before them was Medeus, leader of the dragon tribes. Medeus, the emperor of Dolhr. Medeus, the Shadow Dragon.

Emperor Medeus himself had appeared before them. He slowly opened his mouth to speak. “How unexpected. I thought for sure the brother would know the trigger that would awaken his own sister…”

Those words set Marth’s heart on fire. He knew for certain that this man was the reason why Elice had locked away her own consciousness. Though he didn’t know the exact reason why, it was Medeus’ doing.

“Damn you!” Marth willed his hand to stop shaking enough to unsheath Falchion, still buzzing as intensely as ever.

The moment it was free, Falchion filled the area with a blindingly bright light, and it immediately stopped buzzing, instead filling Marth with “something” that made all four of his limbs tingle and feel hot. 

“Something” so hot and blinding that he felt as if every last drop of his blood was boiling, and all of the muscles in his body were bulging.

That “something” was power. White hot, pure power was flowing into his body through his right hand gripping Falchion. And he sensed that it was telling him to kill his enemy.

His fear vanished, and his body stopped shaking. He slung his words at Medeus in a dauntless tone, each one strung together with his bitingly ferocious anger. “Emperor Medeus… What have you done to my sister?!”

“Your sister refused to cooperate with me, so she put herself under a deep sleep. But I wish to use Aum’s power to revive someone who has died. You should know the trigger that will awaken her, and so I have been awaiting your arrival. But that was another wasted effort.”

“Are you saying you lured us into this castle?! By destroying every obstacle and slaughtering every single one of your soldiers that could stand in our way?!”

“You are correct. I did it all to end Anri’s bloodline, the one thing that could defeat me!!”

“Or so you think!” Marth pointed Falchion’s blade between Medeus’ eyes. I will avenge my father, my sister, and all the fallen people of Archanea by defeating you right here, right now!”

“So that’s Falchion, is it? You think I’d make the same mistake I made one hundred years ago?”

“We won’t know until we try!”

“Very well.” Medeus pulled a stone out of his sleeve. It was a small, black stone attached to a thin silver chain. 

The moment Marth saw it, he knew exactly what was about to happen. He turned around to face everyone and shouted, “Take Elice and get out of here as fast as you can! Hurry outside!”

Marth’s shout freed Merric from the curse his fear had placed him under. Until now he was unable to move a muscle, but once he felt a sliver of his strength return to his body, he forced his trembling limbs to move and lifted Elice into his arms, still in her prayer position. Cain, Abel, Palla, Catria, and Est also shook off their fear enough to help him. 

“Get out of here! This cathedral is about to collapse! Hurry!”

“What’s happening?!” Abel shouted.

“Look at Medeus!”

Medeus’ black stone floated high into the center of the cathedral as he muttered words that resembled a curse. The stone emitted a deep crimson light the color of blood. The light enveloped Medeus’ body and dyed his surroundings red. The bones scattered under his feet, the cathedral walls, and everyone’s faces all looked as if they were covered in blood.

“That’s an Earthstone! He uses it to unleash his true form!” Palla cried.

“Run, everyone, run! Hurry!”

“But what about you, Prince Marth?!”

“I’ll get out as fast as I can! For now, just take Elice and go outside! There’s no time left! Medeus is about to finish transforming! Only Falchion and I can be here! Even if you guys stayed, you wouldn’t be able to do anything! I don’t think you can hurt him! Please, just hurry outside!”

Without warning, the cathedral ceiling started to collapse. The cocoon of red light enveloping Medeus had finally swollen enough to reach it. Something massive was pulsating within that crimson light. Something alive. Something with such an imposing presence that they could hardly believe it was real. It emitted a roar that resembled the cry of a newborn baby.

It was the Shadow Dragon. Emperor Medeus was finally showing them his true form. The most threatening creature alive, who had slaughtered tens of thousands of soldiers entirely on his own, was about to awaken at any moment.

———————————

“Things are the same here as they were in the last village. There’s no signs of life whatsoever.”

“The outer perimeter of the village is no different. Nothing remains but a morbid trail of skeletons. It’s a scene so cruel I couldn’t stand to look at it. It feels like… every last living being is dead…”

Cain and Abel told Marth as their eyes turned away from their surroundings. Upon receiving their report, Marth simply stood frozen in place, speechless. Confronting such an unbelievable sight brought his thoughts to a screeching halt. 

“Still, I can’t believe it. There’s so many decaying bodies, and even more skeletons… The only thing I can think of is that this might be some kind of trap. Maybe meant to intimidate us?” While Merric’s guess did make sense, this scene was too graphic, and the number of corpses was too great for it to be a mere trap. Every single town surrounding the castle had been turned into a graveyard.

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything. But none of these people died yesterday or today. They’ve already decomposed significantly. Just look, Merric, Cain, Abel.” Marth picked up a small bone fragment lying at his feet, then put the tiniest amount of strength into his fingers. The fragment was instantly crushed into white powder. “These bones have already been exposed to so much air and sunlight that they are extremely brittle.” The powder slipped between the gaps in his fingers and scattered to the ground. “Regardless, we can’t wander around recklessly until we figure out what happened. Let’s head back to our rendezvous point with Palla and her sisters. They should be just about done gathering their reconnaissance.”

“Gods, not that I want Palla to see something like this…” Abel said as he mounted his horse.

“You two get along awfully well for a pair who met less than a month ago! …I wish I could poke fun at you about it all I want, but…” Cain had a heavy expression on his face.

Abel nodded in response. “Yeah, this horror kills the mood… Anyway, I wonder what’s going on here… Is this country really our enemy’s home base?”

“Just don’t let your guard town. Anything could happen.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice! Still, this place is driving me so crazy I could kiss the first person we see, even if they’re an enemy! We haven’t seen a single sign of life since we crossed the border!”

Cain and Abel each narrowed their eyes into a sharp gaze and began to survey the area. Marth was following close behind, but slowed his horse slightly to get closer to Merric, who was bringing up the rear. He noticed that Merric had rewrapped the bandage over his right arm, probably because it had come loose as he rocked atop his horse.

“Do your wounds still hurt from our battle, Merric?”

“No, not really. I’m still doing this just to be safe. I don’t heal as fast as you do. Aren’t you surprised that you took two Imhullu spells, then made a complete recovery in less than a week? I bet even your head would grow back if someone cut it off!”

“Hey, don’t compare a human to a monster!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding! …And, um, by the way, Marth…” Merric’s expression suddenly clouded over.

Marth saw that, and knew exactly what Merric was going to say. “You’ve apologized over and over again already. You’re going to say that it happened because you aren’t strong enough. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“But it’s the truth! Caeda should still…”

“Stop it. If I hear you say it one more time, then our friendship is over for good, Merric. I’m the one who should be apologizing to you for asking you to come here with me when you’re still recovering from your wounds. This march has been really brutal, and you’ve helped me along the way more times than I can count.”

“Not at all! I want to atone for all the mistakes I’ve made. That, and…”

“And?”

“I want to do whatever it takes to be the one to save Princess Elice.”

“That’s right, you’ve always liked my sister more than me!”

“Y-You think so?”

“Well, don’t you think so? I forget how old we were, but one time, she was bit by a field mouse. Who was the one to bring a mountain of medicinal herbs to the castle?”

“Oh, I remember! That’s right… Then all those herbs attracted a bunch of stray cats, and everyone at the castle had to help chase them out!”

“Yeah, because there was a ton of catnip in the pile!”**

“...Jeez, I can’t believe you remember something like that! It happened forever ago! It was just a dumb mistake made by no one special!” Merric made an angry face, but his eyes were smiling.

“There’s actually more to the story! The cats were covered in fleas, and next thing we knew, so was the castle! That caused a huge fuss. They even bit Elice, and she was itching all over for days!”

“Wait, you’re serious?!”

“I am! You had nothing but good intentions though, right? Then, you whispered to me that this secret must stay with the royal family forever and ever!”

Hearing that seemed to come as a shock to even Merric himself, as he held his head in his hands and frowned.

“But it wasn’t just the royal family that caught the fleas. Everyone else at the castle got bit too, especially Jagen-”

The moment Jagen’s name came out of Marth’s mouth, he stopped talking. His cheerful expression darkened like the sun suddenly being covered by clouds. 

Merric didn’t try to say anything, either. Whether he attempted to comfort Marth, express his condolences, or cheer the prince up, he worried his words would sound fake.

“Hey, Merric?”

“Yeah?”

“How did we end up like this? When did we take up our first weapons, become immune to killing others, and get dragged into the middle of a war? When did our lives become full of bloodshed?”

“I don’t know, but it’ll all be over soon! That’s why we’re here, in the manakete nation of Dolhr, isn’t it? To march straight up to Shadow Dragon Medeus himself.”

“Still…” Marth surveyed his surroundings from atop his horse. The skies were a dull grey. Every plant and tree was withered and dead. The earth was dry and cracking. And bones were scattered about in every direction. Not a single bird was flying through the air, nor was a single bug crawling along the ground. The only thing that moved was the withered clumps of grass rolling with each powerful gust of wind. “This place is like a graveyard. It’s even as dominated by the silence of death as a graveyard would be.” Marth said, then looked away from it all and put a hand on Falchion attached to his belt.

-I-

To defeat Medeus, the Shadow Dragon and Emperor of the Dolhr Empire, Marth took the Divine Blade Falchion, now one in the same with Navarre’s life, and departed from Archanea Palace. He would carry out a stealth operation to sneak deep within the enemy nation, and achieve their goal in one fell swoop. It would be impossible for the entire Archanea Liberation Army to march together. And though they may have retaken Archanea Palace, remnants of the enemy army were still lurking in the surrounding areas. If the palace fell into enemy hands again, the people’s morale would sink even lower than where it was before.

It was for those reasons that the number of soldiers accompanying Marth was kept to the bare minimum. 

Cain and Abel went to avenge Jagen as the last two surviving members of the Archanea Palace Guard. The Whitewing sisters Palla, Catria, and Est went to represent their fallen homeland of Macedon. And Merric volunteered to go as well, defying the protests of those around him, concerned because his wounds were still healing. They were the only six people who would enter Dolhr with Marth.

“You have nothing to worry about, Prince Marth! Several surviving armies have received word that we retook Archanea Palace, and joined up with us. And in just a few days, we expect to cross paths with General Lorenz and his liberation army of a few dozen members. We think we can whittle away at the enemy’s remaining forces as we defend the palace.” Hardin had confidently declared his resolve just before Marth left. After a momentary pause, he added, “We’re the ones worried about you! You’re going to rush straight into enemy territory with a handful of soldiers! And not just any enemy territory, but the Manekete nation of Dolhr! That place is a complete mystery to us! I can’t even begin to guess what might be waiting for you there…” He looked into the Western skies, towards the direction of the Dolhr Empire, with an anxious expression on his face.

And Hardin was right to be so anxious. For much of their march across Archanea, every time they emerged from a forest or scaled a mountain, they would find themselves face-to-face with enemy reconnaissance soldiers or a small enemy unit on a mission, and be forced into a fight whether they wanted to be in one or not. But if Marth and the others pulled off this stealth operation successfully, their long war would finally be over, and Archaneans would stop killing each other.

Believing that with all their hearts and minds, they finally crossed the border into the Kingdom of Dolhr. From that moment onward, they would be in the middle of enemy territory, and throwing themselves into the eye of the storm. A battle tougher than any they’d ever fought before was certain to unfold. Their opponents would be people of the nanakete tribes, who could transform into dragons at will, and were nothing like the Dolhr soldiers they’d faced until now. It was entirely possible that one of them, or even all seven of them, would not make the journey home.

“Thank you all for accompanying me on this selfish journey of mine, but now, I will go alone. This is my final order as the leader of the Archanea Liberation Army. All of you are to turn around here. Please.” Marth said as they stood just before the border. 

However, not a single person turned around.

Abel spoke first. “Is this some kind of joke? You think we’d let you steal all the glory?!”

“Abel’s right! And we’re here to avenge Sir Jagen! I will not hear such an order, not even from my prince. As the last surviving members of the Altea Palace Guard, we ask that you let us go with you.” Cain added.

“Marth, you’ve known exactly what my personality is since we were kids! I hate letting anything go unfinished!” Merric said.

Palla nodded. “We feel the same way. And if we abandoned you here to make a safe escape ourselves, Princess Minerva would never let us hear the end of it when we return home! We shall go with you even into the depths of the underworld.”

“...We could never turn back after making it this far…” Catria continued.

Est spoke last. “Acting cool is totally uncool, Prince Marth! You can’t tell me to turn back moments before a battle this exciting is about to start! Whether you like it or not, once I say I’m going, I'm going!!”

Marth accepted their declarations of their determination and spoke not another word. Instead, he stared straight ahead and unsheathed his sword, emanating a glittering light, from its sheath - the Divine Blade Falchion. The very same blade Hero Anri used to slay Medeus one hundred years ago. As a member of his bloodline, Prince Marth of Altea pointed Falchion at the path before him, giving his soldiers the signal to charge.

Dolhr was the kingdom of the manakete, shrouded in a veil of mystery. And now, it was also the heart of the Dolhr Empire and its endless acts of cruelty. Everything started here with Medeus’ resurrection - both the long, long war that ravaged the entire continent, and the birth and death of countless tragedies. But that was all about to come to its end.

Marth and his soldiers had scaled a foggy mountain range, then crossed the massive wasteland that stood between them and their destination, and were finally about to step foot in the Kingdom of Dolhr - a land considered cursed, forbidden to enter since the war one hundred years ago.

Although… However strange it may be, since the moment they stepped foot across the border, they had not encountered a single enemy soldier. Not even when they passed each checkpoint, nor when they marched around a major fort, had they seen a single living being, not even a cat.

And there was more to it than just that. The further and further they traveled inside the country, the less birds they saw flying through the skies, and the less animals they saw leaping across the land. Trees and plants also became far more sparse at the exact same rate, and once they made it far enough, everything was withered and brown. Though they were filled with such an ominous feeling that they couldn’t even begin to put it into words, they pressed onwards… Until they witnessed a sight that shocked them even more.

When they were just a few days' distance from the castle, they discovered a small village. First, they cautiously inspected it from the outside. As they expected at this point, there were no signs that any people were in it. With their minds made up, they changed into clothing that made them look like normal travelers, and stepped foot inside.

“What is this?! What happened here?!”

The roads, town square, and houses were filled with countless bones. They lay in piles and were those of people both young and old, male and female, and from all walks of life. It was also clear that they all belonged to the people of the Dolhr Empire, as there were dragon bones mixed in with the human bones, and some even seemed to be hybrid human-dragon bones. Only the manakete of Dolhr could harness the power of magical stones like the Firestone and Divinestone to transform into their true form - the divine beasts known as dragons.

“I know what these are. I only briefly studied the sciences in Khadein, but I know that these are not fake, nor are they from an animal. They have to be manakete bones.” Merric concluded after taking several bones into his hands one at a time. 

But if that were true, what could possibly explain this horrific scene? To figure out the answer to that question, their only option was to press onward. But even then, all they found were more villages and towns full of bones.

At last, without a single roadblock along the way, they reached a point from which they could see the castle. Their overwhelming sense of fear and unease was as strong as ever, and the mystery of the bones lining their path was still unsolved.

———————————

*T/N: ターメネック: Taamenekku is the word used in Japanese, and the author includes an explanation in parantheses that this is 野鼠の一種 (nonezumi no isshu) - the name of a specific breed of field mouse.

“Do you have anything left unsaid?”

“I am not about to die, so I have no final words.”

“Are you that unwilling to admit defeat?”

“I am.”

“Very well.” Camus gingerly closed the gap between them. Though all Navarre had left was a broken sword, his opponent was still the Sword Emperor. If he underestimated Navarre, then it might come back to haunt him. He had to be as guarded as ever until the bitter end, but still inch closer and closer.

“Farewell, Sword Emperor!” Camus swung Falchion upwards with an expression of total confidence on his face. 

‘It’s now or never! This is my last chance! Victory will be mine!’ Navarre shouted in his mind, whirled around in a fit of rage, and raised his sword towards Camus at the speed of light. But he did not swing it - he threw it. Not even Camus nor the holy powers sealed within Falchion could have seen such an attack coming. 

“What?!” Camus didn’t even get a chance to knock Navarre’s broken sword out of the air before it stabbed deep into his throat.

Fresh blood spurted out of the wound. Camus’ face twisted in agony. His mouth twitched and uttered a few words. He shouldn’t have a voice any longer - the broken sword had severed his windpipe. Yet somehow, Camus managed to force one word after another out through his agony. “...I’m not… done yet…”

He managed to remain true to those words. Falchion roared as he unleashed a ferocious attack several times more powerful than any of his previous blows. Navarre didn’t dodge it. He couldn’t dodge it. Camus’ final attack was filled with the overwhelming pressure felt only by those who knew their end was imminent. Not even a god could dodge it.

Falchion, still radiating its bright holy light, stabbed through Navarre’s chest until its tip emerged from his back. Fresh blood dripped first down its glittering blade, then to the ground.

Both master sword fighters had drained the last of their energy, and were nearly holding each other as they stared each other down one final time. Each still had the other’s sword lodged in their body. Navarre’s broken sword was in Camus’ throat, and Falchion was in Navarre’s chest.

“...Looks like… this really… is it. I never would… have imagined… that the Sword Emperor… would throw his sword…”

“A certain someone… once taught me… that swordfighting… is about much more… than just adhering to… one’s own school of swordsmanship… But he… is no longer among the living.”

“...I see…”

That was all Camus said before he started to take a few staggering steps. He stumbled over a broken chunk of the castle wall, then continued forward, wobbling the entire way. He choked several times on the blood caught in his throat. Still, his feet would not stop as he concentrated the last of his strength into walking further and further. The only thing in his path was the sheer cliff that seemed as if it dropped off into a portal to the underworld. Below it was the rampaging waters of the sea - it was now clear that his goal was to reach them.

“...A soldier should never leave himself exposed, not even his corpse…” Camus pulled the broken sword out of his throat as he looked down the steep cliff. Dark red blood scattered like sparks through the air.

“Nyna, I…” Camus’ final words were cut short. His eyes clouded over and stared into space as his body started to collapse. He was almost at the very edge of the cliff.

He plummeted to the water’s surface far below, bathed in the morning sunlight, like a flower petal fluttering to the ground.

He left behind only a trail of freshly spilled blood, the broken sword, and Navarre with Falchion in his chest.

“So this is how it ends for the wise General Camus…” Navarre said quietly as he stood as still as a stone statue. 

The life was vanishing from his eyes, cold sweat dripped from his forehead like a waterfall, and his face was a white as a wax figure. The blood gushing from his body mixed with the rainwater flowing around his feet, creating a river of crimson.

‘Even he himself did not realize it, but he delivered this sword… the holy blade… directly to Prince Marth.’

With robotic movements, Navarre put a hand on Falchion. The moment his skin touched the hilt, the life returned to his eyes. Then, using the last of his strength, he pulled Falchion out of his chest. A stream of blood scattered through the air in the shape of a rainbow, illuminated by the morning sun.

He stabbed Falchion into the earth beside him, then the life drained from his eyes again as he looked up at the sky. It was the color of the Archanean skies during the transition from the dark blue of night to the white of early morning. 

‘I think the sky was this same color on that day… As it always was when we held a wedding back home, too…’

Sword Emperor Navarre did not fall to the ground. He passed frozen in place, staring up into the sky.

The long night had already ended. Marth and the others would soon learn of his heroic death and Falchion’s return to its rightful owner.

Julian crept out from behind the door’s shadow with a guilty look on his face.

“You’re not just stealing people’s valuables, but their secrets now too?”

“Eh heh… I didn’t mean to, I swear! I overheard you talking to Navarre by accident!”

“Of course you did...”

“Please don’t be so harsh on Julian. Regardless of what he happened to hear, Captain Hardin and I had a similar conversation.” Nyna said.

“You did?”

She responded with a gentle laugh. “The reason why I told you about General Camus is because I wanted you to know about a soldier who remained true to his ideals, even in the midst of battle. He is pure-hearted. And because of that, he cannot resist the tide of war. We cannot afford to kill any more of our fellow Archaneans, nor lose them. So we must destroy the root of all this evil.”

“...The enemy general, Medeus. Shadow Dragon Medeus!”

“Yes. Dolhr’s army, having lost both Gharnef and this palace at the same time, has started to combine their forces from across the continent and rebuild their ranks. Now’s our only chance. We must sneak straight into our enemy’s main ranks, invade Dolhr, and defeat Medeus. It is the only way!” Nyna said in an aggressive tone. 

The force behind it made Marth recoil, because a part of him felt so guilty. “But Princess Nyna, I…”

“I know. You’d be doing it for Caeda, right? But that is exactly why I believe that you can win. I believe that if we cannot protect the few people closest to us, then we cannot save the many.”

“...Thank you, Princess.” Marth bowed to her in the style that one would normally choose during a traditional ceremony swearing their loyalty to their lord.

At that moment, a ray of light poured in through the large window behind Nyna. It was the warm, milky light of the morning sun. The lightning had finally stopped, taking the rain and darkness of night with it. 

If he were to be honest, Marth didn’t want to step a single foot inside the throne room. Only about a week had passed since Caeda died in this very room. While his allies had started the process of repairing it, it was still covered in small scratches and dried blood that made him relive that fateful fight. Each time his eyes paused on a different spot, he was hit with one memory after the other, first the pain Imhullu inflicted on his body, then Merric’s screams of agony, then Caeda’s pale face.

“Merric said he should be able to walk again soon as well. But I’m happiest to know that you are safe, as the person who carries the fate of all Archanea.” A lonely expression appeared on Nyna’s face as she looked straight at Marth.

Hardin did not open his mouth, but gave a small nod from where he stood at her side. 

Marth hardened his determination. Whatever path this meeting was taking, he needed to share everything he had to say - that he was going to relinquish the Fire Emblem, and fight for his own personal reasons now. 

But the moment he opened his mouth to tell her, she interrupted him to broach a completely different subject.

“Marth… and you too, Captain Hardin… neither of you know the circumstances that allowed me to escape Dolhr’s army after they captured me, correct?”

“No.” Marth and Hardin shook their heads in unison.

“Then I shall tell you everything.”

“But, Princess…” Marth hesitated to finish that sentence.

Hearing that story now wouldn’t change anything for him. He thought it much more important for him to announce his new resolve to her first. 

However, as he took a step forward, Nyna cut his sentence short. “It’s alright, I want both of you to know. Especially you, Prince Marth.”

“Understood, Princess.” Upon hearing that, in the end, Marth decided to let her speak first.

With distant eyes that looked like they were staring somewhere far off, Nyna finally began to share the story. “It happened after Archanea's army lost to Dolhr’s invasion, and this palace fell. Dark Pontifex Gharnef was assigned to rule over Archanea’s territory, and under Emperor Medeus’ orders, he was also to end the royal bloodline. Starting with my mother and father, he killed one member of the royal family after the other… Before anyone could realize it, I was the only person left, and he came for me…” Her words were devoid of emotion. Her voice was as monotonous as it could be. She shared the exact chain of events that occurred, and nothing more. “I was imprisoned in one of the towers, then left to slowly waste away and die alone without any food or water. But one night, a lone soldier broke down the door and approached me. He had hair the color of gold and wore black armor. He was the very person who conquered Archanea… The leader of Grust’s Sable Knights, Wise General Camus.”

“I can’t believe it…” Hardin muttered in utter shock the moment he heard Camus’ name. “The Kingdom of Grust was the first nation absorbed by Dolhr, making it the very foundation the empire is built on. So the man who led the charge was General Camus himself… I finally understand how a nation as great as Archanea fell so quickly.”

“General Camus is a true chivalrous knight, and shows compassion even on the battlefield. When he first invaded Archanea, Medeus said to him that he would guarantee the safety of all prisoners of war. And he trusted Medeus to keep his word.”

“So he was betrayed.” That comment came from Marth.

“Yes. With the promise made to him broken, General Camus freed me to stay true to his ideals. In a blind rage, the emperor dispatched a unit of elite guards he handpicked himself to recapture me. General Camus led his own unit in a fight against that elite unit that allowed me to escape to Aurelis with a few of his soldiers.”

“I see. And that’s how…” Hardin said through a long sigh. He knew nothing about how Princess Nyna managed to escape before this very moment. He never would have imagined the truth behind it.

“Even then, at first, I still hated General Camus with every fiber of my being. How could I not? He was the general that destroyed my country. I wondered why he would save my life after everything he’d done. But when he let me free to escape to Aurelis, he said to me, “Ever since my motherland that I believe so deeply in became a part of Medeus’ Dolhr Empire, I have had a duty as the proud leader of the Sable Knights to fight until the bitter end. Soldiers fight for their country until their final moments. I regret nothing that I have done. But as a knight first and foremost, I will not harm any prisoners of war that have surrendered. That is the only reason why I’ve chosen to do this.“ Ever since I heard those words, my hatred towards him has vanished. I now hate this war itself instead.”

Her words echoed the very same things that Lena once said. Marth and his army were confronting the massive force that was the war itself. They hated what caused it. He also grieved for Camus. As a soldier, Camus had to be loyal to his country until his final moments. And for what? Did he have any hope in what lay beyond his bonds to his country he was ensnared in, a thing that could not be seen? Such thoughts were the very reason why Marth was so certain about his newfound resolve.

He held the Fire Emblem hanging from his chest tight and took a deep breath to tell Nyna everything.

-III-

Their battle was so shrouded by the heavy rain and lightning that its events unfolded without a single soul bearing witness to any part of it. Even a swordfighter as great as Navarre was recklessly slashing his way through it. These were not the lethal strikes that he was known for as the Sword Emperor. But if he let up his onslaught for even a moment, he would immediately be sliced in half by his foe’s own ferocious attacks. Navarre created a barrier around himself with his slashes. Camus’ physical strength was so great that this was the way he was forced to fight.

“What’s the matter?! Is this really the swordplay of the Sword Emperor?!” With each swing of his sword, Camus’ golden hair fluttered left and right.

“Big talk for a man borrowing the power of a sacred sword!” Navarre chose to narrowly dodge each and every one of his foe’s attacks, knowing that if he carelessly attempted to absorb a blow, his stance would crumble, and he would be in a bad situation.

“Hmph, you know as well as I do that only a descendant of Anri’s bloodline can unleash Falchion’s true power! What you see now is just a fraction of its light. You of all people should realize that what you struggle against now is my own true strength!”

“So this is all you’ve got?!”

Camus and Navarre continued to exchange one terrifying blow after another. The rays of light that their blades created clashed over and over again. The force behind each of their swords kicked up the rainwater that had pooled on the ground, turning it into a mist that danced through the air. Each time Navarre unleashed an attack with all of the strength of his body behind it, Camus absorbed the blow right in front of his eyes; and each time Camus thrust Falchion forward, Navarre dodged it by a hair’s breadth. They traded attacks back and forth, neither one taking even a single step back as their fierce battle raged on in the palace garden.

However, over time, their battlefield slowly but surely began to shift across the garden towards the collapsed palace wall. Navarre was gradually being backed against it.

“Guh!” Navarre leapt a few footsteps backwards to fix his stance and catch his ragged breath. Out of the hundreds of enemies he’d slain throughout life, he’d never once felt his breath speed up. Now, it sounded like a song without a harmony.

‘He’s strong!’ Navarre muttered to himself as he stared his foe down.

Camus had the same thought. ‘For you to dodge every single one of my attacks, Sword Emperor Navarre, you are as powerful… Nay, you are even more powerful than the rumors say!’

As they each raised their swords, they attempted to read their foe’s next move. Navarre held his sword diagonally across his torso, and Camus fearlessly raised his sword over his head. The lightning had already traveled far off into the distance, and the rain was finally starting to slow down. However, they stood as still as stone.

“...Let’s bring this to an end soon, shall we?”

“Yes, let’s!”

Falchion glowed with an ominous light in Camus’ hands. With that light trailing behind it, Falchion moved towards the top of Navarre’s head.

However, Navarre saw that coming. He blocked it with his own sword. Their two blades met just in front of his face, sending sparks flying through the air.

“Allow me to ask you one final thing!” Navarre shouted with a low growl over the screeching of their swords pushing against each other, “How did Falchion fall into your hands?! It is the one blade that Medeus hates, and wishes to see gone from this world!”

“There is no reason… No, it is because I decided the least I could do is stab Prince Marth with it! That is the least I could do to show some mercy!”

“That’s not it!”

“What?!”

“I know there must be another reason!”

“Hmph!”

The corners of Camus’ mouth twisted. His beautiful face, which had not shown even a hint of emotion until now, twisted into a cruel smile. It was the smile of a demon.

He drew his sword - Falchion - towards himself at the speed of sound. 

Navarre put his entire body into pushing against it. With his enemy’s sword suddenly gone, his stance crumbled - though as the great Sword Emperor, his stance crumbling meant that his body merely tilted ever so slightly. But in a battle beyond words like this one, even the slightest moment of weakness would spiral into a mortal wound.

“Get ready to die, Sword Emperor!” Camus brought his sword down, his demonic expression still on his face.

But it was at that moment that Camus’ loss would be decided. Navarre’s stance would not crumble that easily - it was actually a trap meant to get Camus to let his guard down.

“You fell for it!” The light Navarre’s sword radiated traveled straight towards Camus’ neck.

Against any other opponent, the battle truly would have been decided here. 

But Navarre made one particular miscalculation - he forgot to take into consideration the fact that Camus’ sword was the Falchion. 

“Impossible…!”

“Your trap just lured you into my trap!”

Camus blocked Navarre’s attack with Falchion. The Divine Blade Falchion. With a great flash of light, it absorbed his enemy’s fierce attack. Falchion transcends its wielder's own will, and reads their opponent’s every move. Navarre’s sword snapped in two with a weak sound. It couldn’t absorb the force of both Navarre putting his entire body into his swing and Falchion’s radiance.

“I can’t believe it. So this is Falchion’s power…”

“Of course it is! This is the divine blade so mighty even Medeus fears it. And I can harness only a fraction of its true abilities. But in a battle between equals, all one needs is the slightest advantage to take the other’s life.” Camus pointed the tip of Falchion’s blade at Navarre. “And that means that these are the final moments of the Sword Emperor’s life!”

With their battle reduced to a broken sword against Falchion, it could no longer even really be called a battle anymore. Perhaps Navarre had accepted that fact already, as he stood completely still, and merely stared at Camus with cold eyes.

“Damn, this place is in such rough shape I wouldn’t be surprised to find a dead soldier still lying around here…”

Julian only had the light of the lantern in his hands and the candlesticks on the walls to guide him as he pressed onward. Though he was an infamous thief, he’d unsurprisingly never been inside a place like this before, nor had he witnessed such intense darkness and rain, for that matter. It would all make even the strongest men in the world feel a chill run down their spine. So when he saw someone appear from behind a dent in the wall, he panicked so hard that he leapt straight into the air.

“Uwaaaaaaaaah! Ah! Ah! Ahhhhhhh!” He immediately clung to the closest pillar. It was an act so embarrassing no one would ever want anyone to see them like that. 

But the person who surprised him stared straight at him as he stayed glued to the pillar and said, “Huh? Is that you, Julian?!”

“Huh? Oh, hey, what’s up…? You’re one of the messengers from Macedon…”

“Yup! The name’s Est!”

“O-Oh yeah, that’s right. That’s right. Ah ha ha… ha…” He frantically made an attempt to look calm and composed, but it was already too late to pull himself away from the pillar. 

The moment Est realized what a compromised position he was in, she tried as hard as she could to stifle her giggling.

“You’re being rude, Est! Don’t laugh so hard!”

“Palla’s right. No matter how funny it was…”

Palla and Catria appeared from the darkness surrounding Est.

“B-But… Pfft! He just looks so funny!”

Est’s reaction made Julian sulk, crossing his arms with a sour expression on his face. 

Palla pushed Est out of the way and tried to pretend she wasn’t amused as well as she said, “Wh-What are you doing here in the middle of the night? We’re on guard duty in the south wing tonight.”

“Th-That’s right… Um, ya see, Princess Nyna said she wants to have an emergency strategy meeting with Prince Marth, and asked me to go get him!”

“...With Prince Marth, hmm? Catria, have you seen him?” Palla asked.

“No, I haven’t…”

“Pffft! I-I saw him! I saw him!” Est raised her hand, still unable to get her giggling under control.

“Really?” Julian asked.

“Yup! Looked like he was headed to the north garden, where Navarre is on guard duty! …Ah ha, ah ha ha ha! Ah ha ha ha!” Unable to hold back any longer, Est burst out laughing as hard as she could.

“Jeez, are we sure you’re a pegasus knight like Princess Caeda was? You’re the exact opposite of her!”

Julian just wanted to crack a sarcastic joke, but the moment he said it, and the moment the sisters heard it, they all shut their mouths tight. Even Est stopped laughing. 

The awkward silence lingered as a distant clap of thunder rumbled.

“I’m sorry…” Est mumbled, sounding nothing like she did before. She looked like she was going to cry at any second.

Julian scratched his head and responded in a voice that got quieter with every word, “I-I didn’t really mean it like that…”

“Y-You didn’t say anything wrong. If we’d just made it here a little sooner, Prince Marth and Merric wouldn’t be hurt. And Princess Caeda would still be…”

“W-We don’t know that! We don’t know that at all! S-So he’s on the north balcony? Sorry to bother you. I’ll go check there!”

The image of Palla staring down at her feet was in the corner of Julian’s eye as he turned on his heels, completely flustered. 

A second clap of thunder rumbled from somewhere far away.

-I-

Marth and Navarre were in a standoff in the garden. The heavy rain made their surroundings appear hazy.

Just a few years prior, this north garden was the setting for lavish dinner parties every single month on the night of the full moon, where the palace orchestra would play their grand symphonies. Now, it was nothing more than a massive, vacant plot of land covered in rubble. The bronze statues depicting heroes of legend had their arms and legs ripped off, and though a goddess statue holding a water vase once poured fresh, clean water into the fountain, it had dried up long ago.

The section of the castle wall that once separated the garden from the outside world was crumbling to pieces. The hole in it revealed a steep cliff, and beyond that the blackness of the seas, so dark that it looked like an entrance to the underworld had opened up.

The palace was the setting of Dolhr’s invasion three years ago, and the Archanea Liberation Army’s reclamation one week ago. After those two battles, it’d lost all of its former glory.

“So you’re really thinking about going…?” Navarre asked.

Marth spoke not a word. He responded only with a single nod.

“You are. I knew it. But not for our continent. For Princess Elice, who is alive and in Emperor Medeus’ clutches. As she is the princess of Altea, that makes her your sister. And for the resurrection staff, Aum, so you can bring her back. Am I wrong?”

Suddenly, a blinding light illuminated them both. It was followed shortly by a roar of thunder.

“You’re going to try to resurrect Caeda with that holy power. You will cast aside your noble duty to liberate the continent and retake your motherland, and defeat Medeus solely to resurrect the person you love. Am I wrong, Prince Marth?”

Navarre’s words were as sharp as the tip of a blade, and a deadlier blow than any of the lethal techniques he used to cut down entire groups of enemies at once. A light flashed again, followed by a rumble of thunder. The time between the two was shorter than before, signaling that the lightning was creeping ever closer.

“...No, you’re right.” Marth was still looking down at the ground when he finally started to speak. “Since the day we embarked from Talys, I have fought as hard as I can to liberate my home. I am still just as dedicated as ever to that goal. But what I want more than that right now is to save Caeda.” The pouring rain ran down his blue armor like a waterfall, turning back into droplets before trickling down to the withered grass below. “We still do not know where Falchion is, the one blade that can slay Medeus. It would mean marching straight into enemy territory before we find it. Our chances of winning would be near nonexistent. Still, I want to go. I cannot be convinced otherwise.”

“But do you really think I’ll agree to that? And not just me. Everyone has fought alongside you dreaming of the liberation you speak of. Think about Jagen and all the other allies we’ve lost. You both are and are not still that person. Is the red emblem shining against your chest just there to look pretty? Surely it’s not. It is the Fire Emblem. It carries the hopes of countless warriors and proves that you are the hero who will save our world. Think about the weight of all that. You are a descendent of Anri and the crown prince of Altea.”

Hearing Navarre’s words made Marth collapse. His arms lost all their strength and fell limply to his sides, and he did not glance up even once as his knees hit the ground. “I know. But I can’t, no matter how hard I try. All I can do is go. That is the one thought stuck in my head, and I cannot get it out. As for the Fire Emblem?” Marth grasped the glittering red emblem at his chest as he formed his next words, “I no longer have any reason to possess it, and I am no longer worthy of it.”

The rain continued to envelop them both. Marth’s shoulders were shaking. It was hard to tell if it was because he was crying or not.

“Stand up, Marth.”

“Huh?”

“What if I told you I was going to kill you for turning into such a coward?” Navarre unsheathed his sword from his waist in one smooth movement. It had sliced more foes to pieces than he could count at this point, and now glowed with an eerie light. 

Marth could only stare at the man blocking his path in utter shock.

“Answer me!”

Navarre’s tone communicated clearly that he was in no mood for debate. An overwhelming bloodlust filled his eyes as he stared straight into Marth’s soul. Marth’s instincts, honed to perfection over his many battles, forced him to leap to his feet in an instant. Navarre was serious. He was really trying to kill him. He didn’t need Navarre to repeat himself. The intimidating aura and the bloodlust radiating from the tip of the Sword Emperor’s blade said more than words ever could. Marth hesitated for a brief moment, but hardened his will immediately after and put a hand on his rapier at his belt. His first thought was that if he was killed before they even left to find Medeus, then so be it. He had betrayed everyone’s hopes, and deserved to die here at the end of Navarre’s blade. But he rejected that thought as quickly as it came to him.

‘What good would come of me giving up right here, right now? Is my resolve truly that pathetic?! I want to bring Caeda back so badly that I have turned my back on the deaths of my allies, and abandoned my noble duty. What would it mean if I abandoned this so easily, too?! Would it do anything more than prove that my decision is one I made in a moment of weakness? The deaths of my allies… the reclamation of my home… and the liberation of Archanea… I’ve traded away all of that for this wish… How could I give up on it so easily?!’ Marth braced himself and stared straight ahead. 

Navarre lowered the tip of his sword slightly and looked at Marth with eyes that mixed bloodlust, a thirst to fight, rage, and loneliness into one incomprehensible expression.

Opposite him, Marth raised his rapier to the space between Navarre’s eyes, the mid-level stance that was the foundation of all his skills in the blade, and waited patiently for his opponent to make a move. There was no advantage in being the first to strike. He was as immovable as a boulder, spoke not a word, and kept his gaze directly on Navarre.

At first, it might seem as if the back of their minds were racing, trying to read what their opponent’s first strike would be.

But that was not the case. Only nothingness could exist between them. They both knew that the first strike would be the last. This was a fight between two of the top ten swordfighters across all of the massive continent of Archanea. Reading too hard into the other’s moves would simply prove that they were distrusting and suspicious of each other. The moment their opponent lunged at them, they would swing their sword as instinct told them to. That was the only strategy they could utilize against each other. And that was why neither of them was able to move.

A light flashed, followed almost immediately by a rumble of thunder. The lightning was nearly over their heads now.

At that moment, Navarre’s body was drained of all his bloodlust. His murderous expression changed completely, softening into a calm smile. Then, he slowly returned his sword to its sheath. “That’s enough, Marth.”

Navarre said to him, but that still didn’t help Marth figure out what Navarre was getting at one bit. All he could do was limply lower his sword as if the tight strings holding him up had been cut and ask, “What were you trying to do, Navarre?”

“I apologize. There were two things I wanted to confirm.”

“Two things?”

“The first is whether or not you could fight Emperor Medeus… No, Shadow Dragon Medeus without the Falchion. I wanted to be certain you are strong enough to do it.”

Marth finally relaxed, returning his rapier to its sheath as he asked, “So how did I do?”

“You passed. If we had crossed blades just now as we both fully intended to, I doubt either of us would have come out unscathed. You have grown much in just the span of one year.”

“And what was the other thing?”

“Your resolve to defeat Medeus for the one you love. It is as good a reason as any to challenge him. But if it is a reason born from a momentary burst of rage, then victory will not come easily. You will need an indomitable will to have a chance at claiming it. Now that I know just how strong your resolve is, it is more than enough.”

“...Navarre?”

“Do not misunderstand me. Though I may admire your resolve, my reasons for doing this are not that soft. I simply wish to be a calm and collected observer of the truth. Ultimately, however Medeus is defeated, Dolhr’s collapse is sure to soon follow. And we will fulfil our original goal.” Navarre looked up into the sky. The rain was falling as hard as it had been all night, yet he paid no mind to the raindrops pelting his face, staring straight at them with a content expression on his face. “After all, Marth. Though the soldiers may say they are fighting for their countries and for Archanea, on the battlefield, all they can picture in their minds are the faces of their children and the women they love.”

“...You may be right.”

“I cannot say that for certain, though. What I do know is that countries do not truly exist. “Even if the castle burns down, the people still live.” I can’t remember where, but I’ve heard someone say that to me before.”

Navarre may have forgotten, but Marth hadn’t. Those were the words he’d once shouted to Caeda himself, then Caeda said them to Navarre the moment he tried to end his own life.

“Marth, I don’t know much about what kind of person your father was. But do you really think Altea was the only thing on his mind when he unsheathed Falchion and charged into Dolhr’s lines? I do not. I think it was you and your sister.” Navarre slowly looked back down at Marth. He was the undefeated Sword Emperor. The swordmaster who killed his foes with one strike. Yet the carefree smile on his face betrayed that entire reputation. “I can’t think of any better way to put it than this - I trust a man who dies fighting for the woman in front of him more than I do a man who dies bound by something that cannot be seen, like his country. And do not forget, Marth. Both Jagen and Caeda lost their lives protecting you. They did not die for Archanea alone.”

Marth felt as if the pouring rain had washed away a massive weight clinging to his chest. Until this moment, he’d been fighting blindly to retake Altea. But looking back on everything now, hadn’t he really been fighting to avenge his father and his sister? Hadn’t he simply been projecting those emotions onto the idea of retaking his homeland? 

“You must survive not for our nation, but for the people.” The final words Elice said to him were as fresh in his mind as if he had heard them yesterday. 

‘You must survive not for our nation, but for the people…’

‘Countries are not what come first, but the people. Countries are only founded because the people first gather and live within the same land.’

“I understand now, Navarre.” Marth looked back at Navarre and said as Julian’s voice rang out from the edge of the balcony. 

Julian was shouting so loud to make sure he could be heard over the rain and thunder that he almost sounded angry. “Lord Marth! What are you doing out in the rain?! Princess Nyna’s asking for you! She said she wants to talk to you, and hold an emergency strategy meeting!”

“Princess Nyna said that?” Marth asked with a puzzled expression on his face.

Navarre put a hand on his shoulder. “Perfect timing. You can talk to her about everything. Tell her how your feelings have changed. Even if it doesn’t go well, just trust in yourself.”

“Thank you, Navarre.” Was all Marth said before he started jogging away, and disappeared into the palace.

“Don’t be like me, Marth. Don’t have any regrets.” Navarre said quietly to himself, and no one else.

Yet another bolt of lightning flashed, followed not even a second later by a rumble of thunder. The direction of the wind changed. Something disturbed the air ever so slightly that it could not be felt on just one’s skin alone. Navarre slowly turned around.

On the other side of the massive garden was a row of withered trees and overgrown weeds. And beyond that was the castle wall, currently hidden behind the rain and darkness. Navarre sensed the living being standing next to it, with an aura more ferocious than any wild beast’s, and craftier than almost any human’s.

‘No… I’m certain this aura is human.’ But he was second guessing himself, so he chose to simply ask whether or not his suspicion was true.

“You’re no mere survivor of Dolhr’s defense army, are you?” For the first time in his life, Navarre experienced the ominous feeling that he didn’t know whether he would win or lose.

“Listen carefully. I am here for Prince Marth, and Prince Marth alone. I am not interested in anyone else. I simply wish to fulfill the duty Medeus bestowed upon me.” A soldier clad in jet black armor whispered from within the darkness.

His facial features were so perfectly chiseled that he was as bewitching as any beautiful woman, and his long golden hair that reached his shoulders glittered more brilliantly than platinum. In the darkness behind him were three more soldiers, all clad in the same full-body jet black armor, hiding in his shadow. They wore full helmets with the visors lowered, so their faces could not be seen.

These four soldiers in black had eliminated any sign of their presence, and used the darkness hanging over the palace’s castle wall to survey their surroundings.

“The enemy has just one guard in the middle of the front garden? Very well. We will take the shortest route possible, and charge straight into the palace.” The golden haired man whispered in a voice devoid of emotion. 

It was drowned out by the pouring rain and thunder, so it traveled only a short distance, yet all three of the soldiers behind him gave a small nod in unison, as they read his lips.

“We move with the next bolt of lightning.”

The men waited patiently for that moment as the rain pelted their armor.

While they waited, the golden haired man continued to survey their surroundings, letting nothing go unseen. The man standing in the middle of the garden that opened up in front of them was turning their way. The timing couldn’t be better. He decided that when the next bolt of lightning fell, his three soldiers would kill that man, then he would take them with him to chase down Prince Marth, rushing inside the building to slice him in half. Such a tactic was easy for him to execute now. He’d sent several enemy generals to their graves with similar strategies - invade the enemy castle with no more than a handful of his soldiers, and strike the center of their operations. If they had the speed of a demon, the ferocity of a magical beast, and the cunning of a wicked spirit, then even tens of thousands of guard soldiers would be little more than decoration. And to make things even easier for them, this was the second time they would infiltrate Archanea Palace. Since they knew the place, he saw no possible outcome in which they would fail. With that absolute confidence in his heart, the golden haired man waited silently for the perfect moment to come.

Finally, a light flashed that pierced the heavens and the earth. Without warning, the three soldiers leapt out from the darkness without a sound. By the time the rumble of thunder that followed it echoed through the area, they had already reached the middle of the garden.

However…

‘...He vanished?!’ The guard soldier standing still until just a second ago had vanished. He must have hidden himself the moment the lightning flashed. It was the only explanation the golden haired man could think of, but he still couldn’t believe it. How could anyone move faster than his soldiers, known for their godlike speed? Yet sure enough, all his soldiers could do was recoil as they realized they’d lost sight of their target.

Another blinding light flashed. It was not a bolt of lightning, but a split-second swing of a sword. First once, then twice. Each light formed a semicircle in the shape of a crescent moon. And a mere moment later, two black helmets cracked open. Both soldiers wearing them hit the ground dead together.

The one remaining soldier put up a brave counterattack, but his foe was a series of flashing lights that his eyes couldn’t follow. He blindly swung his own sword, but all he did was graze the air in vain.

“Guh!” As his death cry escaped his throat, the final soldier fell to his death.

When each of the three soldiers took in their last breaths, they likely never even got a good look at their killer’s face. But the golden haired man was different. He was able to follow their enemy’s every movement and each minute detail of his swordplay. It made him want to cross blades with this person himself.

“Amazing work. I recognize those flashes of light as the technique of the Sword Emperor.”

Navarre had melted into the darkness and rain, but he now chose to show himself. His sword was not drawn, but his hand was still on its hilt as he stared unblinkingly at the golden haired man. The deep black color of his armor and the crest carved into its breastplate was all Navarre needed to see. There could be no other man who would be able to follow his movements in this darkness and rain.

“I am General Camus of Grust’s Sable Knights. I have come to take Prince Marth Noah Altea’s life.”

‘I knew it.’ Navarre muttered to himself. 

Not only was the golden haired man a member of Grust’s Sable Knights, a unit of elites among elites, he was their leader, the Wise General Camus. He served as Emperor Medeus’ most capable right-hand man alongside Dark Pontifex Gharnef. And now, he was standing before Navarre, blocking the Sword Emperor’s path.

“My name is Navarre. People call me the Sword Emperor.”

“I wish to pass through here.”

“If you are truly a soldier as well, then you will carve out your own path through here with your sword.”

“...I thought that might be your answer. Then in the name of my homeland, I shall carve out my own path, even if it must be by force.” Camus unsheathed his sword from his waist with painfully slow movements.

The moment it emerged from its sheath, Navarre’s face twisted in utter shock. “That blade… Can it be…?!”

“It is indeed none other!” Camus raised it towards the heavens.

It was a thin sword that at first glance, appeared to be an ordinary rapier. But its blade emitted a wondrous beam of light even in the darkness, and a haze like that of a foggy day rose from its sharp, pointed tip.

The room was painted in its entirety with fresh blood. From the luxurious carpet, to the white walls made of plaster, to the various ornaments hung from those walls, everything was dyed deep crimson. And there wasn’t just blood - hunks of meat and bone that were barely recognizable as arms and legs were scattered throughout the entire throne room, accompanied by piles of viscera.

Marth’s best guess was that several bodies had been thrown around until they exploded in every direction. He’d seen countless battlefields throughout his journey, and was now hardly phased by most violence, but this overwhelmed even him with intense nausea.

The scene outside the throne room was horrifying in its own right. The bodies of the countless enemy soldiers he’d slain were strewn about in piles across the hallway. But this carnage was not so straightforward. There was only one word that could describe it… “unnatural.”

And the moment Marth saw Bishop Volzhin’s head placed atop the gemstone-studded throne in the center of the room, a chill ran down his spine. The enemy he thought was his to defeat was killed before he even made it to his destination. 

The rest of Volzhin’s body was scattered in pieces on the floor. His severed head looked as if it was muttering a curse.

‘Is there a magical beast in this room?!’ Marth put a hand on his rapier and slowly walked inside. 

First, he had to figure out exactly what had happened. But when he took his first step forward, he sensed an aura so wicked it could only be described as pure horror. His body reflexively crumpled, and he could only manage to proceed inside the throne room on his hands and knees.

When he reached the wall, he leapt to his feet. He scanned the room with his rapier pointed high in the air, where his foe’s head would be.

“...”

He tried to speak, but no words came out of his mouth. He couldn’t believe it. His body was shaking even harder than it would on its own because the tip of his rapier in his hand was shaking as well. Was he cold? He couldn’t be. Sweat was dripping down his face like a waterfall. This was true terror. A terror more horrifying than anything he’d ever felt before was wracking his body.

‘This is no bloodlust. It’s something else. Something not as easy to describe. It is evil. I have no other word for it. I can only say that it is the most evil of any aura that could ever exist. But is it really human? This is no human aura.’

As a master of the heavens-style, he was able to sense any aura or energy emanating nearby him. While that usually worked to his advantage, in this case, it was the reason why the evil aura emanating throughout the throne room was suffocating him.

“Who’s there? Tell me your name!” He finally managed to find his voice. His will was that strong. Otherwise someone like him, who could sense auras so strongly, likely would have gone mad by now.

“YoU’re lAte… MaRth NoAh AltEa…”*

Said a voice that made Marth shudder. It sounded as if it had crawled up from the depths of the underworld.

A man wearing a black robe appeared from a dark corner of the throne room. Had he been there the whole time, or was he able to teleport through darkness? Marth couldn’t tell. But there was no doubt in his mind that this was his first time meeting this man. There was no way he could forget the face of a person who emanated such an ominous aura.

Still, while this was his first time seeing this man, Marth knew exactly who he was, and exactly what his name was. It was an evil name that people always spoke while trembling in fear and awe.

“...Dark Pontifex Gharnef?! What are you doing here?”

“Oh hO Ho… You’Ve dOne… yoUr hoMewOrk… YoU kNow… mY nAme…?” The man said as he licked his lips, salivating in anticipation of what was soon to come.

“Of course I do! You are the Dark Pontifex, the right-hand man of Emperor Medeus, who led Archanea to her destruction!”

“KeH, kEh, keH… YoU aRe a brigHt yOung mAn… It iS A shaMe… yoU aRe toO wEak. So I… wiLl kilL yOu.” Gharnef ignored the fire burning in Marth’s eyes and slid up to the throne. He then took Volzhin’s severed head into his hands and toyed with it like a kitten.

“Gharnef!”

“HeH hEh… You’Ve goT gUts, bOy. BuT whaT’s witH tHe… sCary lOok oN yoUr facE?”

“You tricked us, and have been waiting for me here, haven’t you?!”

“...HeH hEh…”

“This isn’t going to go how you think it will! I’m going to defeat you here, and our liberation army will come out of this battle more determined than ever before!”

“Oh oH oh… If yoU cAn dEfeaT mE, tHat iS.”

“I will defeat you!”

“KeH, kEh, keH, kEh…”

“What’s so funny?!”

“ArE aLl meN frOm AlteA tHe saMe? ThE mAn I killEd tHree yeArs agO sAid tHe saMe thiNg.”

“You killed a man from Altea three years ago?! Who was he?!”

“SoMeonE yOu kneW veRy wEll…”

“Damn you…”

“I thiNk hiS nAme waS…. KinG CorNeliUs?”

“Gharnef!!”

Marth ran faster than any land animal, and his attack was far faster than even the speed of light. His sword first moved down, then up. This was the strongest finishing move of all the heavens-style techniques, the “Blade of the Deadly Camellia Flower.”** Not even Jagen was ever able to master it. But Marth had taught himself how to execute it. It was a lethal technique that decided entire battles.

In that moment, Marth was certain that he had won. The only thing that this technique could not strike down was evil spirits, and Gharnef may be akin to a monster, but he was no evil spirit. He was still human, even if he was an exceptional wielder of magic who stood on the very edge of the deepest darkness.

That darkness now crushed Marth’s body. Invisible tentacles stretched out from within it and wrapped around his organs, breaking his blood vessels and shattering his nerves. Electric shocks coursed throughout his entire body. The pain was incomparable to any other.

The tip of his rapier stopped dead in its tracks. He could not lift it any higher, nor drop it any lower. His breathing stopped. His eyes bulged so far out of his head that he thought they might pop out. He felt as if every joint in his body was grinding together, and every muscle in his body was being ripped apart. And none of it was an illusion. It was all really happening to him. Marth was convulsing violently, writhing on the floor stained red with Volzhin’s blood.

“Guhaaaaah!” He felt as if his entire body was on fire. This was something above and beyond pain. Yet somehow, no blood spilled from his body. None of his wounds were external. This was the agony of every nerve in his body being yanked out of place and twisted in knots. It was so great he thought he was going to pass out.

“GoNe aFter… oNe sPell? EveN… yoUr oWn faTher… witHstoOd tWo…”

Gharnef’s mocking laughter echoed through the depths of Marth’s fading consciousness. What was happening to his own body? He couldn’t comprehend it in the slightest. 

Then he finally remembered that whenever Gharnef’s name was uttered, so too was the name of a certain spell - “Imhullu.” It paralyzed its target’s nerves, both blocking all incoming attacks while also simultaneously unleashing its own powerful blow. One spell would be enough to pulverize a soldier of average strength with a weak will to pieces. 

Until this moment, Marth had thought of the Imhullu spell as nothing more than a myth. An illusion born from people’s exaggerated fears. No matter how powerful magic may be, there would always be a way he could defeat it with his sword… Or so he believed.

As he suffered in the deepest depths of despair, he realized how wrong he’d been.

His sword didn’t leave a single scratch on Gharnef’s body. He hadn’t even been able to complete his first swing. The magic he thought was nothing more than a myth had killed his father, and now, it had him on the brink of death as well.

But he would not be swallowed whole by this despair. While he was completely paralyzed and white-hot agony coursed throughout his entire body, the one thing Imhullu could not extinguish was the anger burning deep in his heart. His powerful will to fight slowly rose him to his feet as he used his rapier like a staff to hold him up. The Fire Emblem pressed against his chest shone with a red light. As he suffered in an agony that would make anyone else go insane, Marth Noah Altea stood tall and brave.

“Oh hO… wEll doNe! VerY imPressiVe!” Gharnef raised his twig-like arms to applaud Marth with hands that looked like nothing more than skin and bone. His body was still emitting his aura so evil that it alone was enough to drag others into hopelessness, and he was as confident as ever.

“Damn you, Gharnef! I will avenge my father!” Marth’s speed and agility were no more. All he could do was wobble and limp up to Gharnef. “And I will avenge my sister Elice!”

“WhaT cAn yoU posSiblY dO iN tHat stAte?”

“Gharnef!!”

This was Marth’s final gamble. He still had just enough strength left in his body to swing his sword with the instantaneous speed the heavens-style was famous for. But it was the last move he would be able to execute. He pretended to be completely exhausted until Gharnef was in close enough range, then put all of the strength in his body into one final attack.

“Get ready to die!”

“YoU arE a fOol!”

Gharnef raised his palm in front of Marth. Darkness poured out from his hand. He was casting Imhullu once more. Marth first felt as if he slammed into an unbreakable wall of darkness, then his body started to convulse again. With each convulsion, he felt as if one of his organs, his blood vessels, or his nerves was being shredded to pieces.

Gharnef saw right through his meager plan. As he writhed in unbearable agony, he floated upwards until he nearly touched the ceiling, then plummeted headfirst towards the ground, like a pebble tossed to the side of the road. He landed on his left shoulder. While the impact did not cause an instant death, there was no doubt that he was on death’s doorstep. All of the strength was sapped out of his once powerful arms and legs, and the light of his noble ideas and indomitable fighting spirit were gradually fading away.

“Oh hO? YoU’re sTill aliVe? You’Re thE fiRst persOn tO stilL bE breAthiNg aftEr tWo oF mY ImHullu sPells!!”

Marth felt the sound of Gharnef’s footsteps coming closer. His ears couldn’t hear anymore because the nerves were paralyzed, but he could hear Gharnef’s voice and footsteps with his body.

“AnD yoU’re wroNg, bOy. YoU sAid yoU wilL aVenge yoUr fatHer anD yOur siSter, buT EliCe iS sTill aliVe.”

A small shudder coursed through Marth’s body. Though he could no longer even lift a single finger, the revelation that his sister was alive had such an impact on him that his reflexes responded to it on their own.

“YouR siSter possEsseS tHe stroNgEst oF aLl holY staVes - AuM, tHe miRaCle sPell thAt rEviVes thE deAd. It waS thoUghT tO Be mEreLy A legEnd, buT sHe caN cAst iT. So wE diD nOt kilL heR. MedeUs wAnts iTs poweR fOr hiMseLf.”

Elice was alive. Marth thought she’d perished in the fire three years ago alongside Altea Castle. That meant he couldn’t fall here. He had to stand up and save his sister. A second breath of life was breathed into his indomitable will, but his body - the most important piece of the puzzle - still wouldn’t move at all. No matter the strength he put into it, he couldn’t even make it shiver or shake.

“It’S oVer, bOy! As A laSt gOodbYe, I shAll throW yOu inTo thE deaPths oF daRknesS oNe finAle timE!”

Deep within his heart, Marth started to faintly realize that he was going to die. His fighting spirit still burned brightly within him. So did his indomitable will. But if his body wouldn’t move, then they were as good as gone. 

Gharnef slowly raised his left hand.

At that very moment, one of the skylights shattered, and something flew inside the throne room.

It was Caeda and her pegasus, with Merric riding behind her. The glass fragments scattered through the air like droplets of light. Merric immediately jumped off and landed lightly in front of Gharnef.

“Marth!” Caeda and Merric shouted in unison.

But he couldn’t respond to them. And to them, he looked like he was already dead.

“Gharnef!” Merric looked back at Gharnef with anger burning in his eyes.

“Oh hO hO! So MarTh’s frieNds hAve coMe tO jOin hiM iN tHe afteRliFe!”

“I will kill you where you stand to absolve Marth of his regrets, avenge my fallen Khadeinian brethren, and avenge my teacher, Wendell!” Merric threw his robe to the floor and stood tall. 

Gharnef watched it land and laughed ominously.

“YoU aRe A maGe, yeT yOu caSt ofF yOur robE? So yOu arE prePaRed tO diE?”

“Of course I am! That is the sacrifice I am willing to make to take you down!”

“BuT wHat cAn aN orDinaRy maGe likE yOu dO? Even WeNdEll waS liKe A bAby beForE ImhUllu’S darKneSs!”

“Just try me!”

“Oh hO hO…”

Caeda ignored Merric’s intense exchange with Gharnef as she landed her pegasus, instead rushing to Marth’s side, lifting one of his bloodstained arms, and checking his wrist for a pulse. “He’s okay, Merric! He’s still alive! Marth’s alive!”

“Thanks for telling me. Now stand down, or you’ll get caught in the crossfire!”

“Understood!” Caeda nodded and pulled Marth’s bloodstained body into a corner of the room.

“CroSsfiRe? I doN’t tHink ouR baTtle wilL bE tHat inTeNse!”

“That’s my line!”

“Oh hO?”

“Gharnef, do you understand what you’ve done?! You are from the same Archanea we are, yet you have used your great power to slaughter countless of your brethren, and even destroy a peaceful nation like Khadein! Do you know what any of that means?!”

“KeH kEh keH…”

“Altea is my motherland. Yet when she fell, it was all over before I could make it in time. I couldn’t save King Cornelius or Princess Elice! Pontifex Wendell granted me his permission to travel to absolve myself of my regrets, but then you burned down Khadein, my second home! You could never understand my pain after losing my country and my friends twice!!”

“YoU tAlk biG!” Gharnef slowly raised his left hand, signaling that he was about to cast Imhullu.

But that was the moment Merric had been waiting for. He raised both of his hands towards the heavens and shouted the name of the one spell that could defeat Gharnef and Imhullu.

“Stars in the heavens, grant me your strength! Starlight Explosion!” He lowered his outstretched arms in front of him.

Gharnef’s expression twisted in shock. Though his face was so wrinkled that it looked like it had lost its ability to show any emotion years ago, it now twitched and spasmed with fear.

“ImpoSsiBle…! StaRliGht…?! WheRe diD yOu geT tHat?!”

A bright beam of blue, red, white, and yellow light shot out of Merric’s hands. Starlight was a light spell that gathered the faint light of the stars, even during the middle of the day, and concentrated it into a powerful beam attack.

“HoW dAre yoU!” Another wall of darkness appeared from Gharnef’s left hand.

“Gharnef!”

“InSoleNt boY!”

Both spells collided. Starlight against Imhullu was a battle of light against darkness. Their power clashed violently in midair and pushed ferociously against each other. The sparks that scattered from where light and dark met made everything on the opposite side of the spells waver like a heat haze. Both torrents of magic were so strong that they distorted the very space around them.

Neither one budged in the slightest, putting the two spellcasters in a dire situation. If one of them let up even a bit, they would be crushed by the force of their enemy’s magic all at once. It was the magic equivalent of two swordfighters pushing against each others’ blade.

“Dammit…!” Merric put every last ounce of strength he had into his spell.

“Oh hO?” In direct contrast, Gharnef’s ominous smile was creeping across his face once more. “I unDersTand noW, bOy. YoU mAy poSeSs StaRligHt, buT yOur bodY aNd minD haVe yEt tO gRow stRoNg eNouGh tO wEild suCh higH leVel mAgic! I seE yOu haVe oNly jusT obTainEd itS sPellbOok!”

“No… Dammitl!”

“So yoU reAlly aRe juSt A rEckleSs bOY. AlL yOu weRe eVer gOing tO dO wAs buY youRseLf tiMe… YoU nEver stOod A cHanCe! HoW fOoliSh I wAs tO paNic foR eVen a moMenT. KeH kEh keH… NoW aLl thAt’s leFt iS fOr mE tO fiNish yoU oFf!” Gharnef pushed even more power into his torrent of darkness. 

Merric continued to bravely cast his beam of light, but Imhullu was slowly gaining the upper hand. The point where the two spells met was creeping ever closer to him. “...Guh… …Gah…”

“KeH kEh keH…”

Beads of sweat were dripping down Merric’s face, or so one would think at first… But they shone with a red light, proving that they were not actually beads of sweat, but beads of blood. He struggled so much to keep the powerful magic he was casting under control that blood was leaking out of his pores. The light of every single star surrounding the earth was coursing through his body. It was a miracle that his spell was not affecting his body even more.

“Merric!” Caeda cried.

As his face contorted in intense pain, he shouted back in a stifled voice, “Please, Caeda! Stop Gharnef while we have the chance! He’s concentrated on casting his spell! Hurry!”

“Got it!” Caeda did not hesitate for even a moment as she unsheathed her sword and changed at Gharnef. 

However…

“HmPh! YoU unDerestiMate mE!” Gharnef raised his free right hand at Caeda.

And a massive wall of darkness shot out from his palm. It was another Imhullu spell. Even with his left hand casting a spell directed at Merric, Gharnef was able to cast a second spell with his right hand at Caeda. Most spellcasters were able to effortlessly cast low level spells like Fire and Blizzard in rapid succession from both hands, but Imhullu was one of the two highest level spells in existence. No one could have ever imagined that any spellcaster would be able to accomplish the same feat with it.

All Merric could do was watch in horror as Caeda floated into the air and the darkness toyed with her body. Her pale hands, legs, and long hair all fluttered through the air as if she was dancing on a stage until she finally plummeted to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Caeda!” Merric screamed, but she didn’t move. Her lifeless eyes stared into space.

“NoW iT’s yOur turN!” Gharnef placed his right hand next to his left hand, and yet another wall of darkness shot out of his right palm. With both his right and his left hands together, he could unleash Imhullu’s true power, and reveal that he’d been holding back the entire time he was fighting both Marth and Merric.

“Gah!” Merric’s Starlight was engulfed by Gharnef’s Imhullu so quickly that he was unable to form even a single word. A wave of darkness washed over Merric’s body like water bursting out of a dam that had just broken. 

His body flipped twice, then three times through the air before crashing to the ground. “Ugh… Ah…”

Gharnef heard Merric’s faint whimpers of pain and chuckled in amusement. “Oh hO! So yOu arE A trUe mAge oF KhaDeiN afTer aLl! YouR maGic reSistaNce iS iMpressiVe.” He walked up to Merric’s crumpled body. “It woUld bE A shaMe… fOr soMeoNe tO sTeal yoUr tomE.”

Gharnef was going to rip Starlight out of Merric’s hands. No one would ever be able to oppose him ever again.

“NoW I hAve noThiNg tO feAr. NoT eVen MeDeuS hiMselF!! KeH kEh keH. ExCelleNt, eXcelLent! SoOn, tHe DolHr EmPire wiLl bE miNe!”

He lifted his boney arm out from under his robe and felt around for Merric’s breast pocket. But the moment he found the crucial tome, his face recoiled in fear. The silver tip of a sword was pushing down on the top of his head from behind.

He couldn’t cast Imhullu, nor could he turn around, nor could he even run away. If he moved even in the slightest, the blade would immediately slice through him from top to bottom.

“You killed her! You killed Caeda!” A voice shaking with uncontrollable fury echoed from behind him.

Gharnef had no need to confirm who it was. He knew it was Marth. Caeda’s death throes had miraculously summoned Marth’s strength back into his body.

“ImpOssiBle! HoW aRe yoU sTanDing? HoW coulD I nOt senSe yoU geTtiNg tHis cloSe?”

Even the most powerful spellcaster in the world could be rendered helpless if he was caught entirely off guard. Gharnef realized the position he was in. He moved not a single muscle as he pleaded to Marth behind him, “WaiT, I…”

Marth did not hesitate for even a moment. He put all of the power he could muster into swinging his rapier downwards. First, the sharp tip of its blade cracked through Gharnef’s skull, then cut through his brain before separating the rest of his organs and flesh perfectly down the middle.

“NoOoOo…!”

Once Gharnef’s body was sliced through in its entirety from top to bottom, his right and left sides slowly split apart, and Marth’s bloodsoaked body appeared from behind it.

“Caeda…”

Gharnef had finally fallen. But Marth was so overwhelmed by grief and despair that it was impossible for him to bask in his great victory.

At long last, the Dohlr army was likely to lose all morale, and Archanea Palace would fall to the Archanea Liberation Army.

But none of that could bring Caeda back. Marth hobbled over to her body and closed her eyelids. 

Then, he pressed his bloodsoaked lips against her pale, pink ones.

———————————

*T/N: In this novelization, in Japanese, Gharnef speaks, like this, with a comma, following every, word or two. I think, the author, was conveying, that Gharnef, speaks, in a slow, creepy,l tone. 

I uSed alTernAting loweRcasE aNd upPerCase tO coNveY thE sAme eFfecT iN EngLish. It sloWs reAdinG sPeed dOwn sigNifiCantlY aNd fEels UnSettLing.

“I did! Dark Pontifex Gharnef is in the palace’s throne room!”

“I can’t believe it!”

“But if the messengers that just arrived from Macedon are to be trusted, it's true…”

“Th-Then what’s going to happen to Prince Marth?!”

“Captain Hardin, to your left!”

“Huh?!”

An enemy cavalier had pushed through their allies and thrust his lance forward, aiming it straight at Hardin. It was one of the most basic of all combat strategies to take out the enemy leader as soon as possible and weaken their army’s morale.

“Prepare to die!”

“Dammit!” Hardin was so shaken up by Wolf’s report that he reacted just a little too late. 

And it was late enough to be the difference between life and death. Before his eyes, the tip of the enemy’s lance glowed with an eerie light. Hardin had only a moment left before it stabbed into his chest. …Or so he thought. 

A second light appeared from seemingly nowhere and sliced open the enemy cavalier, still atop his horse. He slid off his mount and was trampled by his allies’ horses.

The source of the second light was Navarre. As one would expect of a man known as the Sword Emperor, it took just one slash of his sword to save Hardin from a life-threatening attack.

“Navarre!” Hardin gasped in surprise.

The subsequent cavaliers following after the first now had Navarre surrounded. But the Sword Emperor did not flinch, slowly drawing a curve in the air with his sword. Still, the enemy cavaliers thought nothing of it, and charged at him. If they had known who their foe was, they would have turned tail and fled the battlefield as fast as they could.

It was already too late for them. Navarre’s sword writhed through the air as if it had a will of its own, aimed directly at its prey surrounding it. In the blink of an eye, several cavaliers fell from their horses. Some lost their right hand, some their head, and others had their shoulders sliced wide open. Though each Dolhr cavalier had their own wound, Navarre alone was the one foe that had caused them all.

Though many more enemy soldiers were closing in on Navarre, he calmly turned around and shouted at Hardin, “Leave this area to me! We’re in a race against time! Someone needs to save Prince Marth!”

“I owe you one! Roshea, Vyland, Sedgar! You three help Navarre! Cain, Abel, stay here and back him up, too! Wolf, where are the messengers from Macedon?!”

“At the east gate that we secured as our bridgehead!”

“Understood!

Hardin did not look back even once as his horse galloped off. He saw no need to, as he trusted his allies' skills in battle. And he was right to think that, as Navarre’s sword had already defeated over ten enemy soldiers with one attack.

-VI-

Weaving his way through Dolhr’s defense formation and taking down any soldier that stood in his way, Hardin reached the eastern gate. The Archanea Liberation Army was currently using it as a bridgehead from which to fight enemy soldiers head-on and make their way inside the palace. There, Caeda, Lena, and a handful of other soldiers were talking to three young women he’d never seen before. He recognized them as pegasus knights because they each had a white pegasus standing next to them, but if it wasn’t for that, they were so young that he would have confused them for villagers who had gotten lost.

“Are you three the messengers from Macedon?”

“Yes, we are. I am Palla of the Whitewings. And these two are my younger sisters, Catria and Est.”

‘...These three young women are really the messengers…?!’

Palla must have realized that Hardin doubted her, as she pulled out a piece of parchment from her knapsack.

“This letter was written by Princess Minerva herself. Is this proof enough that we are trustworthy?”

“...Yes, certainly.” Hardin nodded confidently, and quickly changed the subject.

Now that he knew the messengers really were who they said they were, he knew that the information Wolf passed on to him was no lie. Meaning they had not a moment to waste. Prince Marth could rush straight into the greatest danger of his entire life at any moment. “So it’s true then, Palla?! Dark Pontifex Gharnef is in Archanea Palace?!”

“Yes, it’s true.”

“We received a report three days ago… stating that Gharnef is awaiting Prince Marth’s arrival in Archanea Palace.”

“Anyway, we gotta hurry, or something really bad is gonna happen!” 

The sisters said one after the other. Dolhr’s army had completely seen through Prince Marth’s plan to march straight to the enemy general alone. And Gharnef himself had come to deliver the final blow that would take Marth’s life.

“Emperor Medeus fears Anri’s bloodline. Is this his doing?” Hardin muttered.

Caeda, standing next to him, shouted, “Never mind that! We need to send help right away, or else Marth is going to…!”

“We’ve been had! I never thought Dolhr was actually luring Prince Marth into the palace!” Hardin was so enraged that he slammed his fists together.

“What are you doing?! Hurry and send help!”

“Princess Caeda, we’ve already lost! We have no way of breaking through the waves of enemy soldiers between here and the throne room. Even if we did, it would take time to make it there. And Lena’s Warp staff has lost all of its holy power.”

Lena nodded weakly with a sad look on her face. She'd used the last of its power to teleport Marth inside the palace. No one they knew had another Warp staff.

“So what?!”

“Rumor has it that even the greatest of weapons and tomes are powerless before Gharnef’s dark magic spell Imhullu. We miscalculated. We shouldn’t have allowed the prince to go alone, no matter what he said. There are no options left, and not just for him. Gharnef’s power is so great that it will take him no effort to slaughter every single one of us. He probably intends to kill Prince Marth first, then end the battle in one fell swoop once we are exhausted…”

“So you’re just going to abandon Marth?!”

“I’m not saying that. But we have no way of saving him…”

“Yes, we do!” They heard someone shout. It was Palla. “We still have one option left - this!”

She opened her knapsack and pulled out an old book. Hardin knew what it was the moment he saw it - it was a tome. A book with magical power sealed within it that mages used to cast spells. But he didn’t know exactly what kind of magic it possessed. Caeda certainly had no way of knowing, either.

“It is the tome of star and light magic, Starlight Explosion. It gathers the light of the stars from the heavens to vanquish darkness. Its power renders Imhullu useless.” Someone explained - it was Merric, who was standing next to Caeda, though no one knew when he got there. He then became silent as he walked up to Palla and took the tome from her. He had no need to inspect its contents. He knew the moment he touched it that it was the real thing. “This is the legendary tome Pontifex Wendell was searching for! How did you find it?”

“I was told that it was sealed deep within Macedon Castle, and the late queen entrusted it to Princess Minerva when the castle fell.” 

Merric nodded, convinced by Palla’s answer. “I see… Perhaps this explains why Dolhr’s army captured Macedon Castle first. Gharnef was already working together with Medeus, even back then. Fearing that his magic could be nullified, he had Medeus conquer Macedon first.”

“But this means we’ve found a way to save Marth, right?!” Caeda shouted.

“Still, even if Merric wields Starlight, he can’t reach the throne room.”

Caeda had an answer to Hardin’s words. “I’ll go! I’ll fly Merric into the sky and bring him to the throne room myself!”

“It’s too reckless. Dolhr’s army has archers amongst its ranks. We would basically be sending you to die!”

“So you don’t care what happens to Marth?!”

“That’s not…”

The sisters stepped forward, with Palla in front. Their eyes were burning with determination. Hardin couldn’t believe his eyes. Were these the same young women he’d seen when he first arrived? The will to fight emanating from them was that of experienced, brave knights.

“Please let us help with this duty. If things had gone as we originally planned, we would have been here before dawn. And Marth never would have gone into the palace alone. We are partially responsible for what is happening. Allow us to go.”

“Please. Though we may not look it, we are fully fledged members of Macedon’s Whitewings…”

“Let us go, ‘cause we’re totally gonna win!”

“Please, Captain Hardin!”

Palla, Catria, Est, and Caeda… Hardin had all four pegasus knights leaning towards him. As he hesitated, their eight big puppy dog eyes were burning a hole straight through him. If he continued to stand around here, Prince Marth was guaranteed to be killed by Gharnef. The last living member of Anri’s bloodline would be lost from this world, and no one would be left who could defeat Medeus. And if the great hero Nyna entrusted the Fire Emblem to was slain, every liberation army across the continent was sure to lose all will to resist. That was Gharnef’s current goal. So wasn’t this, on the contrary, actually their one option to use their current situation to their advantage?

They could liberate Archanea Palace and defeat Gharnef at the same time. Could there be any better news than that for the people suffering under Dolhr’s occupation armies?

Hardin made up his mind. Not that there was ever any leeway for him to truly choose one option over the other. He wouldn’t abandon Marth after they’d come this far together, and he couldn’t possibly leave the man the continent had put all of their hope in to die. “Caeda, you’ll carry Merric. Fly as high as you can, and as fast as you can. Understood?”

“Yes, Captain!”

“And the Whitewing sisters will back you up. I’m sorry for asking something like this of you after your long journey.”

Palla shook her head. “Don’t be! We will help you as much as we can as representatives of Macedon!”

But as he’d planned this strategy, he’d hardened his resolve to match. “Princess Nyna, please hear me out. In the six months since we formed our liberation army in Aurelis, we have defeated many enemy units to get this far. And we have gained much from each and every one of those victories.”

“Y-You’re right. We’ve gained hope and freedom… much of the continent’s territory… days of true rest and relaxation. And we have saved countless lives.”

“However, Princess Nyna, in exchange, many of our soldiers have lost their lives in battle... For Archanea’s liberation. So that you may one day inherit your throne. I know that. And they did not die in vain. There is no argument against that.”

“...”

“Princess Nyna. In the battle for Aurelis Castle, we lost my teacher, Jagen. None could ever replace him. And since then, we have lost many more of our soldiers. I do not want to lose any more of our beloved allies.”

“But Prince Marth… That is still no reason for you to rush into the enemy’s formation all by yourself.”

“As you know, I am a descendent of Anri’s bloodline, the hero who saved our land. If the heir to Altea’s throne does not kill the enemy general, then this liberation war will be meaningless. My father lost his life three years ago for the exact same reason. He led the unit that charged straight into the oncoming enemy army…” Marth looked ever so slightly to the side in an attempt to hide the sadness on his face from Nyna. With his eyes still averted, he continued, “While we lost House Altea’s Divine Blade Falchion, Hero Anri’s blood also flows through my veins. I have to be the one to do it. I have to be the one to defeat the enemy general. Please do not worry. I will defeat Bishop Volzhin and come back alive.”

With that out in the open, Princess Nyna no longer knew what to say. Instead, she nodded silently.

-

Now, Marth was running alone through the corridors of Archanea Palace. These glittering, gorgeous corridors were clearly of a different construction than those of Aurelis Castle and Castle Deil. The palace was built before the first Dolhr Empire attacked, meaning it was over one hundred years old, and was not designed with defense from foreign armies in mind, but to be a symbol of peace and prosperity.

…‘We will restore Archanea to its former glory. Then, we return home to liberate Altea. It won’t be much longer now… It won’t be much longer!’

He thought as his arms and legs began to tremble in fear. He’d reached a massive hallway that made the prior corridors look like mouse holes. It was aptly named the “Great Hallway of the Southern Wing,” and connected to the throne room. As such, it was so tall that pegasus knights could fly around and fight freely within it, and an entire row of an armor knight unit could march through it in a horizontal formation. As for its length, Marth’s best guess was that it was thirty to forty shaku long.*

He cautiously leaned over just enough to peek down the hallway. In the shadows of the massive pillars supporting the ceiling hid several armor knights. They were likely an elite unit assigned to guard the throne room. Each pillar had two knights stationed at it. And from where he stood, to the massive doors at the end of the hallway, if he counted both the pillars on the left and the right, there were ten in total. Meaning at the very least, twenty enemies stood in his way.

‘I’ve heard that Bishop Volzhin is a skilled tactician, but knows little of combat. If I can just get past the defense unit stationed here, the hard part should be over…'

None of the enemy knights were directly blocking his path. Marth made up his mind. He unsheathed his sword in one swift movement and unleashed his suppressed bloodlust. The enemy soldiers immediately noticed his presence. Not because they all saw him, but because they sensed the sudden rush of bloodlust.

“...They are an elite unit. Just as I expected.”

Though he was at a complete loss for words, he strode down the center of the hallway. The knights’ full body armor was probably just as heavy as they were, yet they approached Marth with movements as light as a dancer’s. His calculations were immediately proven wrong. There were more enemy soldiers than he could count on his hands and feet. Just like Marth himself had done, they hid their presence completely, and slipped into the shadows.

“You may be more brave than any other man alive to rush us alone, but you will not be taking a single step further! We will have your head!” Their leader declared.

As he spoke, the other enemies slowly closed in on Marth. They likely intended to take him out the moment they had him completely surrounded. They wouldn’t charge and overpower him by force. Their movements were those of soldiers that had mastered group combat.

‘But I’d never be able to liberate Altea and defeat Medeus if I was weak enough to fall to such elite soldiers!’ Marth shouted to himself, and pointed his rapier towards the heavens.

Then, in a voice that stayed completely calm from his first word to his last, he gave his name in the exact way that the Altea Palace Guard was taught to introduce themselves in battle. “My name is Marth Noah Altea! I am the rightful heir to the Altean throne, but I do not wield my sword here and now as a prince!”

That was the moment Marth, prince of Altea, vanished. In his place appeared a god of war that knew only death and destruction; the howling beast that had appeared in Aurelis Castle’s throne room. It was unleashed once again in Archanea Palace’s Great Hallway of the Southern Wing.

-IV-

“Check it out, Princess Nyna! I think things are getting started!”

Julian pointed at Archanea Palace and shouted. They were on the peak of a hill, where they could see the entire palace grounds from up high.

The soldiers were tiny specks moving around left and right. They looked like an army of ants. There was no chance anyone could hear any battle cries or weapons clashing from where Julian and Nyna stood. Still, when Nyna looked down, she felt as if she really was hearing the intense sounds of swords crashing against each other.

“As cool as it is to see things from up here, it’s a shame to be guardin’ Princess Nyna when there’s so much loot screamin’ my name!”

“Are you unhappy with your assignment?” Jeorge, who also stayed behind as a member of the princess’ guard, shouted at him.

“N-No, it’s just a bummer that I can’t go treasure hunting, that’s all!”

Jeorge chuckled. “I would consider yourself lucky. This battle is unlike any we’ve had before it. However it may happen, if Dolhr’s army loses the palace, not a single person alive will have respect for them any longer. Just look at the courtyard! They couldn’t fit another guard soldier in it!”

“Whoa, you’re right! I hope Sister Lena’s doin’ alright…”

The courtyard should have been covered entirely by grass, but right now, it looked as if it had been dyed brown. It was the color of the shiny suits of armor each guard soldier wore. They were crowded so close together that they completely covered up the green lawn beneath their feet.

“Yikes, our guys are in a real pickle down there!” Julian muttered.

Princess Nyna was standing next to him with her hands clasped together, praying for Marth’s safety. “...Prince Marth…”

Suddenly, an aura darker than any other in existence enveloped her body. It was an ominous aura that was so vile it made her nauseous, and so cruel that it made her entire body freeze.

“This… This aura… This… evil energy… it’s…”

“Huh?”

“What?!”

Julian and Jeorge realized that something strange was happening to Nyna. She had her arms wrapped around her body, and was shivering as violently as a person wearing light clothing in the middle of winter.

“Princess Nyna!” Julian panicked.

“What’s wrong?! Are you starting to feel ill again?!” Jeorge asked.

…This aura, it’s…!”

“Aura? I-I don’t sense anything. Is it an enemy?!” Jeorge pressed her further for answers.

“It’s… not here…” Nina pointed a trembling figure down at the palace. It landed on the top of the south tower, where the throne room was located. “It’s… in the throne room…”

“The throne room…?!”

“It is an aura of great evil…” Nyna was the only one to sense this vile aura because of the memories that haunted her like a nightmare. No other reason could explain it. She’d tried on countless occasions to run from them, but that only made her body tremble harder and harder in fear. The wretched feeling of falling into the enemy’s hands and being taken prisoner was as vivid as it was the moment it first assaulted her. “Why?! Why is that man here?!”

“Who? Princess Nyna, what are you talking about?! Who is this man?!” Jeorge asked.

“He’s in danger! Prince Marth is in danger!” That was all Nyna could manage to scream before she collapsed and fainted, unable to withstand the terror any longer.

Julian flailed his arms out, and she slowly fell into them. “W-What’s wrong with the princess!?”

“I don’t know. But…”

“But?”

“It’s already too late. We have no way of warning Prince Marth that he is in danger.”

Next to Jeorge, Julian was breathing a heavy sigh as he stared up into the air with a stupefied look on his face. Three white birds flew into his field of vision. No… They couldn’t be birds. It would be strange for birds to fly like that. “Are those… pegasi?”

“Pegasi?” Jeorge also looked up into the air.

Sure enough, three pegasi were flying across the azure skies.

———————————

-I-

“...It’s time. Move out!”

Marth slowly turned around and looked at his army with an expression of unwavering determination on his face.

“Yes, Milord! I, Hardin, have nothing more to say. I will use every ounce of strength in my body to support your storming of the palace.” Hardin, standing aside his noble steed, bowed deeply.

Cain, Abel, and the many other soldiers standing behind Hardin all did the same.

“Sir Jagen is watching us from above, telling you to survive and not throw away your life, so you can return home safe one day.”

Abel nodded. “Cain’s right. You still have to make our dream of rebuilding our motherland come true!”

Marth replied to them in a quiet voice, “Cain, Abel, you’re right. I…” He clutched the crimson red gem adorning his chest as he spoke. It was the Fire Emblem itself, the proof that he was Archanea’s champion, bestowed upon him by Princess Nyna. The emblem of legend was bestowed upon true heroes by an heir to Archanea’s throne. It glittered like a burning flame across his chest. “...am the bearer of the Fire Emblem. I will protect the soul of Archanea’s people. But none of you should risk your lives either. Retaking Archanea Palace is just the first step towards making our grand dreams come true.”

Everyone nodded in response to Marth’s powerful words. A slight breeze blew past, rustling the trees of the forest behind them. Marth looked at Lena standing behind all of the soldiers, giving her the signal.

“...Yes, Milord.” She nodded. In her hands was a staff made from the wood of a sacred tree.

It was the Warp staff. The exact same same holy staff that had teleported Julian to the base of the Samsooth Mountains in an instant. She held on to it tightly as she walked through the crowd to Marth’s side, and Caeda opened her mouth to break the silence that had fallen over them.

“Marth!”

“What’s wrong, Caeda?”

“Oh, um, nothing’s wrong!”

“...”

“Really, nothing’s wrong!”

“Caeda.”

“Huh?”

“We’re going to win.”

“Yes, we are!”

Their conversation was cut short there. Or perhaps it was as long as it needed to be. Caeda smiled, satisfied, and pulled back. 

Lena stepped up to take her place. She and Marth nodded at each other, then she began to pray as passionately as she could in front of him to release the wondrous power sealed within the Warp staff. Its tip emitted a milky white light that enveloped Marth’s entire body. He smiled at his allies watching over him on the other side of that thin veil. It was still on his face when he vanished, as if melting into the scenery.

Silence fell over the Archanea Liberation Army once more. The staff disintegrated in Lena’s hands without a sound. It had been drained of the last of its holy power.

“All units! Prince Marth was just warped into the center of the palace to defeat the enemy general!” Hardin shouted as loudly as he could. “While we believe there to only be a handful of guard soldiers in the throne room, a unit of thousands of elite soldiers have gathered in iron wall formation around the perimeter of the palace, and await our arrival! Our duty is to cause chaos and distract the enemy for as long as we can to keep them from discovering Prince Marth’s covert operation! Our second unit led by Navarre and Merric has already arrived at the castle’s rear gate - the one that overlooks the cliff facing the seas - and they should now be on the move! We cannot allow ourselves to be defeated, either! I want all of you to give this battle everything you’ve got to finally retake our continent’s beloved Archanea Palace!”

“Soldiers, draw your weapons!”

At Cain’s orders, everyone either unsheathed their swords, raised their lances, or drew their bowstring. Each weapon they took into their hands reflected the morning sunlight, casting a cool, sparkling glow in every direction.

“Charge!”

Horseman Wolf pulled out a horn and blew into it as hard as he could, playing the tune that announced the Knights of Aurelis were about to charge. Without wasting a single second, the rows of Archanea Liberation Army soldiers rushed towards the castle, scrambling to be the first to begin the fight. It had already been one year since they embarked from the island nation of Talys. And now, the battle to achieve their current goal of retaking Archanea Palace was about to begin.

-II-

“You mean their unit is already in position?!”

“Of course. We know their movements before they even make them. Hmph, so they’re called the Archanea Liberation Army, eh? My my my, they’re awfully full of themselves.

This palace will not fall so easily like Aurelis Castle and Castle Deil did!”

“The blue unit will guard the right side of the palace. Shall the green unit and the purple units serve as reinforcements to the rear gate?”

“...Very well. And hurry!”

“Understood. May the fortunes of war be with each of you!”

Judging by how intricately designed their equipment and armor was, all soldiers present appeared to be the captains of Dolhr’s cavalry units. They bowed to each other, then each split up in front of a four-way intersection just before something suddenly leapt out from the shadows of a dimly lit corridor. It was Marth.

Marth moved expertly and swiftly between each of the shadows leading down the corridor, occasionally stopping to hide behind a pillar and listen closely to his surroundings. Once he had confirmed that there were no soldiers nearby, he once again slipped through the corridors without making a sound, focused solely on finding the throne room.

The Warp staff had teleported him inside the palace. Of course, Lena didn’t place him directly in front of the enemy general. He’d taken into consideration the possibility that an elite unit could be waiting for him like there was inside Aurelis Castle, or that the enemy general could be hiding in a different location than they thought. For those two reasons, he decided on purpose to warp to a vague location somewhere within the palace.

But as he ran through the corridors, his mind raced.

…Based on the soldier’s movements… their formations… the atmosphere… and their presence… There’s only one possibility! The current ruler of this castle, Bishop Volzhin, must be in the throne room!’

As he made his way deeper and deeper inside the castle, he only became more and more confident in his suspicion.

The palace guard walked up and down the corridors. Each time they did so, Marth either hid in the shadow of a stone pillar or behind a tapestry decorating one of the walls, sneaking right past the enemy. After a full year at war, it took him no effort to completely hide his bloodlust and his presence. In the same way that all living creatures subconsciously breathe in and out, he could now control his own aura without thinking about it.

“...Looks like I just have to go straight from here.” He murmured to himself before running further down the corridor. Though to be more exact, he wasn’t running, but taking small leaps into the air. He moved like lightning at a speed that could match a wild beast. Yet he made not a sound, not even of his clothing rubbing together, nor did he leave behind any sign that the air around him had moved.

Just as Princess Nyna had explained to him, there were surprisingly few guards the deeper he got within the castle. Since that was proving to be the case...

Yet now she was looking at Palla with a deep sadness in her eyes. “Maybe Catria’s right. Maybe I am just an embarrassment to the Whitewings…”

“Of course not! You know how Catria is, don’t you? She sounds harsh, but she’s just joking!”

“I kinda doubt that…”

“I am.” Catria cut in. 

Was Catria going to take advantage of this opportunity to further insult Est while she was down? Palla opened her mouth to say something to her, but it was too late. 

Catria said to Est with an elegance never otherwise found in her voice, “Hey, Est. Have you ever thought that maybe you’re thinking about this the wrong way?”

“...Huh?”

“There’s people with all kinds of duties in this world. Some craft horseshoes, others make swords, others write books, others steer ships; and some are gifted with the ability to ride a pegasus from a young age, who don’t get to wear pretty clothes or have a loving boyfriend, because they are forced onto the battlefield…”

“...”

“Whatever our duty is, we can’t change it. It might not be something that someone ordered us to do, but it is determined when we are born.”

“...When we’re born?”

“Yes. That is why we live each day to its fullest, doing our best to fulfill it. It’s okay to have our doubts about it, but our duty is our duty. You want to fulfill it properly so that you don’t have any regrets, don’t you?”

Est nodded confidently.

“And this doesn’t just apply to the work the three of us do and the current situation we are in. In every walk of life, everyone has a duty. Some lead others, some do exactly as others tell them to, some work alone to perfect their craft, and there are even some who cheer up everyone around them. Est, don’t you know how much your naivete has helped to keep everyone calm, even on the most violent of battlefields?”

“Really? But you said all I am is an idiot!”

“And that is also a part of the duty you must fulfill. So long as you aren’t the kind of idiot that annoys other people, at least, then you’re fine the way you are. After all, there are idiots who may mean well, but make others feel worse instead of better.”

“I guess…”

“It’s true! You said that everyone helps you, right? Well, no one wants to help someone who only makes them feel worse. If others help them, then that alone is proof that there is something good about a person.”

“So you’re saying there’s something good about me?”

“I am. Do you understand?”

“Kinda…”

“Then I think you can figure the rest out yourself.”

“Okay!” Est’s normal smile returned to her face as it turned a bright shade of red. The evening sunlight did not seem to be the only cause of that.

As she watched over their conversation, Palla didn’t quite understand why, but strangely, it brought a tear to her eye. Not because she was sad, but because she was happy. Fearing that she would actually start to cry if she remained silent, Palla said in a voice a bit louder than her normal volume, “So, what kind of person do you think Prince Marth is?”

“Where did that come from, Sister…?” Catria asked, returning to her usual slow tone with a puzzled look on her face.

“I mean, he’s leading an army full of people with superhuman strength! It makes me wonder what kind of person he is.”

“...I suppose I am curious as well…”

“He must be so. Super. Cool!!” Est squealed.

“Maybe! He has to be a true brave and strong hero, at least! After all, Princess Nyna deemed him worthy of the Fire Emblem.” Palla said.

“The Fire… Emblem? What’s that?” Est asked.

“You really cannot remember… a single thing. You idiot…” Catria sighed.

“Hmph, hmph, hmph! Weren’t you just saying there is something good about me?!”

Palla ignored her sisters’ squabbling and said, “The holy Fire Emblem is proof that whenever the continent is in a time of crisis, someone representing the Kingdom of Archanea will save the world. It is the proof that the person possessing it has all the qualities of a great champion, like infinite wisdom, righteous courage, and great strength. After the battle to retake Aurelis Castle, Princess Nyna bestowed it upon Prince Marth.”

“Whoa, it seems sooooo cool! I can’t wait to see it with my own eyes! THE Fire Emblem!” Est shouted.

Palla nodded. “Yes, we’ll be able to see it soon! All three of us, together.”

“I’m still not so sure Est is going to make it…” Catria said.

Est stuck her tongue out. “Bleeeeh! I will get to see it, even if it means I have to step over you two to get to it!”

“You never stop…” Catria shook her head.

And so, the sound of pegasi hooves and wings combined with their cheerful laughter, echoing throughout the rose-colored skies as the sisters continued eastward towards the Kingdom of Archanea.

“But now I think we really have reached our limit. Since things have come to this, please, Princess, give us the order… just tell us to die in battle, for the glory of the Whitewings.”

As her long hair as red as a burning flame fluttered in the wind, Minerva spoke not a word. She could not bring herself to do anything but look down at the ground. Finally, she raised her head, stared her almond-shaped eyes straight at Palla, and said, “Palla? You too, Catria, Est. Do you recall what I said to you two years ago?”

“Huh?” Est tilted her head.

Catria nodded. “...Two years ago… …That was the day the castle fell…”

“Ah, yes, I remember! Princess Minerva, you told us… um… That we must “...go into hiding with the belief that we will one day rise up again. We must believe that one day, our Macedon will be restored to its former glory.” …That was it, yes?”

“Ha ha, that’s right, Palla. You remembered my words exactly.”

“Whoa, the princess herself praised you!” Est cheered.

“Est, don’t be such a boor… in front of the princess…” Catria scolded her again.

Minerva shook her head. “I don’t mind, rather, I want you to take Est’s words to heart. We haven’t fought this long just to die, or anything of the sort. We’ve fought to live, to survive, and to retake our kingdom. If it were for any other reason, um… Palla, how old are you now?”

“Eighteen.”

“And Catria is seventeen, and Est is fifteen, right?”

“Yes…”

“Yup!”

“Exactly. I would not have dragged anyone so young into this cruel battle if they were going to fight just to die. Please think of the allies we have lost. They were all young women the same age you are…”

“Th-They were. I understand, Princess Minerva. That is the reason you tell us not to die.” As Palla pictured each of her lost allies in her mind, she realized what Minerva’s inner feelings were, and why the princess had such a somber expression on her face. 

While Minerva’s younger sister Maria, the second princess of Macedon, narrowly escaped the castle when it collapsed, she died in one of their many battles over the past two years.

But Minerva shook her head to shake off her current reminiscing of the past, and continued, “There is no glory in death, especially when now is the time for our liberation army to rise up.”

“The time for us to rise up… has come…?”

“It has, Catria. One of our moles has been reporting to me the empire’s movements, as well as the actions of all those who support our same cause.” Minerva said as she pulled a piece of parchment from a small leather bag attached to her belt. It had been delivered to her by an ally who joined Dolhr’s army, but still swore their true loyalty to Macedon. Minerva and her liberation army had only survived this long largely thanks to the help of many such infiltrators. “You three know Prince Marth of Altea’s story, yes?”

“We do. He is the young prince who fled Talys Castle when it fell.” Palla nodded.

“Indeed. And I heard that after that, he built an army. Though it is very, very small, and consists of about twenty members.” Catria added.

“Whoa, that makes their army even smaller than ours!” Est’s large emerald eyes widened even further. 

Hearing such a tale would surprise anyone. Even the smallest of Dolhr’s units was made up of sixty soldiers. From the perspective of such a massive empire, twenty people would be thought of as nothing more than ants.

Minerva nodded in response to Est’s words, then continued, “Against all odds, Marth’s army has marched from Talys all the way to Aurelis… But it is what they did next that is the most crucial accomplishment of all. They rescued her. Princess Nyna. After combining forces with the survivors of the Knights of Aurelis, they succeeded in retaking the castle. Now that their numbers have increased further, they are known as the Archanea Liberation Army.”

“D-Did you say Princess Nyna?!” Palla couldn’t believe her ears.

“She’s… alive?” Catria gasped.

“Who’s Princess Nyna?” Est tilted her head.

“You can’t be that much of an idiot, Est… She is the only rightful successor to the Archanean throne. Every single nation across the continent has a deep connection to the Archanean royal family…” Catria had an exasperated look on her face as she glared at Est to judge her harshly. 

Catria’s reaction was reasonable, though. The people of Archanea regarded Princess Nyna as highly as a goddess, and also considered her to be the very symbol of their nation.

“Hey, how dare you call me an idiot!”

“...Well, it’s true…”

“Quiet, you two! Anyway, Princess Minerva, what will be Marth’s army’s next move?” Palla asked.

Minerva shook her head. “Unfortunately, I’ve already shared all of the information I received with this report. What I know right now is that the empire sent reinforcements towards Aurelis.”

“They sent reinforcements? That would make sense. Not only was Aurelis Castle taken by just twenty soldiers, they also know now for certain that Princess Nyna is alive.”

“Dolhr’s army… No, Emperor Medeus is risking his pride to defeat the Archanea Liberation Army. Though it seems that Dark Pontifex Gharnef is the one truly pulling the army’s strings. Him and Wise General Camus of Grust.”

“I knew about the role Gharnef is playing in the imperial army, but now even General Camus is getting involved?” Palla’s eyes widened.

General Camus was the commander of the Sable Knights of Grust. Not only was he known as a talented leader both for his bravery and resourcefulness in battle, but he was also said to be the greatest swordsman in all of Archanea.

“Yes. General Camus is the pinnacle of a chivalrous knight, so he will not go against his motherland’s decisions. Though it is now a part of the empire, The Kingdom of Grust still retains its own identity. As a citizen of Grust, General Camus has set out to defeat the Archanea Liberation Army, and he will not retreat until he has done so.”

“I can’t believe the Archanea Liberation Army is going to challenge both Dark Pontifex Gharnef and General Camus…”

“Emperor Medeus aims to stamp out all rebellion as quickly as it stands up against him. Now that everyone knows Princess Nyna is alive, the number of liberation armies across each region of the continent is likely to multiply. It is a worst-case scenario that the empire must do whatever they can to avoid. If the liberation armies start to rally together, it is possible that they will become a large enough force to rival Dolhr’s army. We simply haven’t had someone with the strong will needed to lead the cause yet. Every group so far has merely fought on their own whenever they saw the opportunity to do so.”

“But if we join the Archanea Liberation Army, then maybe…”

“Yes - we too can become part of an army of justice powerful enough to fight against evil. This is the best thing that could have happened to us. Palla, Catria, Est... The day we have waited for is finally coming.”

“You’re right, Lady Minerva!” Est cheered. “So that means we’re going to join Prince Marth’s army right now?!”

Minerva shook her head. “Unfortunately, we are not, Est.”

Palla and Catria both looked like they had the wind knocked out of them. Just as Est did, they both thought Minerva was leading up to giving them the order to join Marth’s army, only to have that expectation utterly betrayed.

“Then what are we going to do?” Palla asked.

“Now that the Knights of Aurelis are fighting alongside them, Marth’s army is combining their forces with other liberation groups across the continent. They will not fall to Dolhr’s units that easily at this point. I can’t imagine we’d make much of a difference if we just became members of their army directly.”

“Then what are you suggesting? Sit idly by, jealous that we cannot make as much of an impact as they are?”

“Do not be so impatient, Palla. There are many things that only we can do.”

“There are many things… that only we can do?”

Minerva rolled out the piece of parchment one more time, and offered it to Palla.

“But you just showed us this…?”

“Macedon’s reformed army is the backbone of the Dolhr Empire. And we were trained to be members of the powerful intelligence network it is built on. We will take full advantage of that.”

“So then, Princess Minerva… you’re saying…?”

“Exactly. Before long, Marth’s army is sure to make it their goal to retake the ageless Archanea Palace. It will decide the fate and the future of the entire continent. We will help them prepare for that day by gathering every single piece of information we can find, both big and small.”

“And lead the Archanea Liberation Army to victory!”

“That is our fight right now. It will not be too late to hurry to join their fight after that.”

Minerva said as an ear-to-ear smile spread across her face, and her eyes were set ablaze with hope.

-V-

And so, three months later, with the various pieces of valuable information they had acquired, Palla, Catria, and Est said goodbye to Minerva and started their flight across the strait to fulfill their wish to join the Archanea Liberation Army.

“But it’s taking us so much longer to meet up with Marth’s army than we anticipated! We planned to find them when they crossed the border into Archanea…” Palla said.

“We just never could have imagined…  the details of the very last piece of intel we received…” Catria added.

“You mean the information about Dark Pontifex Gharnef?!” Est asked.

Palla nodded. “Yes, we never imagined he would start to move this early! And there’s no way Prince Marth and the others would know, either!”

“Even Dolhr is starting to panic… it seems…” Catria said.

“And so many of our allies sacrificed their lives to pass that intel on to us…” Palla stared down at the ground.

Catria also turned her eyes away from Palla, trying to escape the memories of that bloody battle. Even Est and her always bright and cheery self fell silent, sadness welling up in her eyes.

After a long moment, Palla finally muttered, “‘Gharnef is in Archanea Castle.’ They died just for those five words.”

“But… It is the one piece of intel… that can change our fate…”

“You’re right, Catria! That, and this tome.” Palla pulled a dusty old tome out of her knapsack. 

The gold leaf pressed into the book’s cover to spell out its title had flaked and fallen off, and all four of its corners were worn and rounded. But the only things that mattered were that it still existed, and that it was in their possession. It was the tome needed to cast the spell “Starlight Explosion.” The full meaning of those two words would be revealed in time.

“Alright! The pegasi look well rested now, so let’s get a move on! We’re going to Archanea, too!” Palla abruptly stood up. The force caused the front locks of her hair to fly up and brush her thin, pale arms. 

Catria also stood up, returning her supplies to her knapsack and closing it up as she did so. 

Est continued to munch lazily on her remaining hunk of hardtack.

Palla looked down at her. “We’re going, Est! I’m seriously going to leave you behind this time! Remember what I said before we set out on this journey? Even if something happens to one of us, the other two have to press onward!”

Est looked away. “But if you leave me behind just because I’m still eating my hardtack, then there will be nothing of the Whitewings left… not even the last shred of our pride…”

“W-Well, maybe we aren’t in that much of a rush. I-I’ll wait, I promise!”

Though Est did hurry to stand up, she did not neglect to wipe off the bit of dirt that was on her sleeve. Though she may still look and act like a child, she was old enough to take care of herself. Not that she should care so much about such small details when she was about to be left behind…

“Catria, Est, with this, our final break is over!” Palla announced. “It will take us just half a day to reach Archanea from here. We’ll fly as fast as we can! I know I’m repeating what I just said, but even if one of us starts trailing behind, then the remaining two of us - maybe even the remaining one of us - must fulfill our duty! Understood?”

Catria nodded. “Our duty is to deliver our intel and this tome to Prince Marth’s army. All before they begin their attack on Archanea Castle…”

“Correct, Catria! Did you get that, Est?!” Palla asked.

“Um, uh, y-yeah, Sis!” Est said through loud chomps of her hardtack with a nod. The childlike expression that was on her face just moments ago had already vanished without a trace.

“Not that I would ever in a million years want to trust Est alone with this duty…” Catria muttered.

“You’re so mean!!” Est shouted.

“Alright, we’re going!”

With Palla’s shout as their signal, the other two sisters also hopped on their white pegasi, and their mounts took off into the skies. 

Pegasi not only flap their wings, but also kick their legs to run through the skies. That silhouette is what defines them as the divine beasts of legend that allow only pure young maidens to ride them.

“Enough already…” Those words were Catria’s. She muttered them between sips of fresh spring water from her leather water pouch and bites of hardtack wrapped in oil paper. “You made the first mistake… by expecting Est to be responsible about something, Palla…” Though she spoke her few words slowly and calmly, her tone was still so strict that she left no room to argue with her.

“...”

They seemed to leave much more of an impression on Est than Palla’s scolding, because the goofy smile disappeared from her face. 

A heavy tension hung over the three sisters. Est didn’t look up from her feet. Catria seemed unbothered as she continued to chew quietly on her hardtack. 

Palla finally broke the silence in a panicked voice, “I-I mean… we don’t need to worry about the water anymore. We figured it out. We should think about what we need to do next instead. Right, Catria? Est?”

“That’s… what I’ve been meaning to do… all along…” Catria said.

“Y-You’re right, Sis!” Est nodded.

“Yup! So, um… Anyway… Let’s confirm the details of our current situation one more time. Alright?”

The younger sisters both nodded. 

Palla reached into her knapsack lying beside her and pulled out a neatly folded map. “This is Aurelis Castle. It was retaken by the liberation army six months ago, remember?”

Est nodded. “Uh-huh! They’re Princess Nyna’s army, right? And Hardin’s army too, he’s ‘The Lion of the Grasslands.’ I’ve heard that he’s super cool!”

“That’s not exactly it… Prince Marth is their actual leader…  And Captain Hardin of Aurelis’ cavalry unit is ‘The Wolf of the Grasslands,’ not the lion…”

“Bleeeeh!” Est stuck out her tongue at Catria.

“This is serious, you two! So anyway, here’s Aurelis Castle. And south of it is…” Palla slid her index finger pointed at the map further down it, “...where Marth’s army, now known as the Archanea Liberation Army, used that momentum to continue to take out the other Dolhr units stationed in the surrounding areas.”

“He’s so awesome! They’ve done all that with around thirty people! Including the Dark Sword Emperor Navarre, wind mage Merrick, and Cain and Abel of the Altea Palace Guard! Oh, I can’t wait to meet them!” Est could hardly contain her excitement.

But Catria felt very differently. “...If you put too much faith in them… that will just make it all the more terrifying when they betray us…” 

“C’mon, Catria! Why are you being so mean to me?!”

“Enough already! As I was saying, in the few months since then, the Archanea Liberation Army has utilized Aurelis Castle as their base of operations to defeat units of Dolhr’s army all around the peninsula, including the “Steel Division” of Lefcandith Valley, the horseman unit of Port Warren, the "Invincible Naval Unit” of Pyrathi Castle, and Grust’s “Wooden Cavalry Unit” of the town of Knorda. Now, at the end of that long series of battles, they have set up camp in this area for their field operations.”

Palla said as she replaced her finger on the map with a loud tap, pointing at the Kingdom of Archanea’s border. And directly to the left of it was a symbol that represented its palace.

“Whoa, they’ve made it that far already? It’s super close to Archanea Palace, isn’t it?!” Est asked.

Catria rolled her eyes. “...Why did you think we’re crossing the strait right now? Princess Minerva explained all of this to us before we left Macedon, remember…?”

“Wait, really?! Ah ha ha! She did?”

“...You’re such an idiot…”

“M-Me, an idiot?! Th-That’s so mean, Catria! Now you’ve gone too far!”

Palla held her head in her hands as she frowned. Their spats always gave her a headache. 

‘Maybe I should just leave them here on this island, and go by myself…’ That unsettling thought did cross her mind. But they were her sisters, and now her last surviving allies of the Macedonian Whitewings. She couldn’t abandon them here. And their skills as pegasus knights were recognized by Princess Minerva herself. Why else would they and no one else have been assigned to this very important duty?

“Stop, Catria! You too, Est! You should both remind yourselves of just how important this mission is.”

“...You’re… right.” Catria said.

“Understood, Sis!” Est nodded.

“There!” Palla sighed. “Now, what was I talking about?”

“You got to the part where Prince Marth’s army, the Archanea Liberation Army, made it to the area near Archanea Palace!” Est explained.

“That’s right. So in just under six months from their attack on Aurelis Castle, the Archanea Liberation Army has chased Dolhr out of the peninsula. Now, they are about to make their dream of liberating Archanea Palace come true.”

“Archanea Palace symbolizes the continent itself. When Princess Nyna steps foot into it once more, that will utterly crush Dolhr’s power and authority over all of Archanea.” Catria explained.

“Catria’s right! Ever since the Archanea Liberation Army first took its stand, the rebel armies across the continent have regained their own momentum, so much so that they are evenly matched against Dohlr’s occupational and invasion forces.”

“Yup, yup, yup! That’s why we’ve been ordered to set out and join them as reinforcements!!” Est said.

“That’s correct, Est. At the end of that battle more terrifying than our worst nightmares, I never imagined we’d ever see such a light at the end of the tunnel.”

Catria and Est both nodded weakly at their older sister’s words. There was a painful loneliness in their expressions. Even Est had a dark light in her eyes. They must have been vividly reliving their memories of the horrible things that happened when their motherland fell to the Dolhr Empire.

-III-

The sisters were born and raised in the Kingdom of Macedon, the land Shadow Dragon Medeus conquered first and founded as the center of the new Dolhr Empire upon his resurrection.

But that does not mean that even Macedon fell easily into Medeus’ hands. It was once known as Archanea’s greatest military power. Not only did it have the Whitewings to fight in the skies, it also had a massive cavalry unit to fight on land, and even a mighty navy to fight across the seas. But the Manaketes’ powers were far too great.

Harnessing the mystical power sealed within their “Dragonstones,” they can change from human to dragon form in an instant. Their arms tear down the sturdiest of castle walls with a single swing. Their deadly breath, as dangerous as a fiery explosion, can turn tens of thousands of soldiers to ash in mere seconds. When they take to the skies, they can fly faster than any divine beast, and on land, even the greatest warhorses cannot keep up with them.

The enemy attacked in a formation centered around one such massive dragon. Even the smallest crack in the sturdiest of levees can cause the entire structure to mercilessly crumble and fall apart. The collapse of Macedon’s army was much like that. First, they suffered the utter defeat of their vanguard, the cavalry unit. They were not defeated in close range combat, rather, they froze in fear of the dragon coming at them, and their formation fell apart midway through the battle. The armor knight, archer, and mage units that came after them all suffered the same crushing defeat.

The people lived in fear that an entire horde of dragons might invade the whole country any day now. But the king addressed the people from atop the magnificent palace balcony, and swore to them that their army was sure to emerge victorious.

At the exact moment he said those words, a massive dragon pierced the skies and flew down from between a rift in the clouds. The king was killed and the castle was destroyed in an instant. Multiple enemy units then took advantage of the chaos to flood what remained. Macedon’s beloved pegasus knights, the Whitewings, took a calm and composed stand against them, but they had been caught completely off guard, putting them at an insurmountable disadvantage. And their brave commander was so stricken by grief over the king’s death that she could not fight to her fullest potential.

She was the king’s daughter, Princess Minerva herself.

“We lost our king before our very eyes, then our castle was destroyed. That smashed our people’s hearts to pieces. Right now, Macedon’s will to fight is weak, and all we can do is shiver in fear of our impending deaths. We do not have the strength we need to fight such a terrifying enemy. We have no choice but to swallow our pain, withstand our shame, and go into hiding with the belief that we will one day rise up again. We must believe that one day, our Macedon will be restored to its former glory…” Princess Minerva said to her few remaining soldiers through her anguish. 

From that day forth, Macedon entered the hardest period in all of its long history. Medeus rebuilt the castle, made himself its emperor, and established it as the center of the new Dolhr Empire.

On that day, the people looked up at the dark figure standing on the new balcony in deep sadness and despair. He wore a robe the color of the darkest night, and was none other than the de facto leader of Dolhr’s army, Dark Pontifex Gharnef.

Gharnef suddenly appeared on the center stage of history from its deepest, darkest depths. He made the public declaration in Medeus’ place that they would build a new Dolhr Empire. Utilizing the momentum they gained conquering Macedon, the Dolhr army crossed the gulf leading to the nearby Kingdom of Grust, and seized its lands as well. And so, with the unification of Macedon and Grust, the Dolhr Empire was born, as Gharnef had declared it would be.

At that same time, enduring the shame of fleeing the fight, Princess Minerva and Macedon’s liberation army escaped the empire’s pursuit and hid deep within the mountains, believing that the day would come that they could rise up again.

Many long days and months passed. While the liberation army did what they could to sabotage Dolhr in secret, they were unable to do any significant harm to the mighty empire, and before long, could only wait for it to collapse. While at first many survivors joined their cause, over time, nearly all of them were killed, and they had only a few dozen members left.

-I-

“Hey, Palla? Can we find somewhere to take a break soon? We’ve been flying around all morning! I’m soooo tired!” The shortest girl flying furthest in the back complained. She looked as exhausted as she sounded. Not only was she the shortest, she also looked to be the youngest of the three. Her name was Est.

“You’re right.” The girl in front looked up further into the sky. She was the eldest sister, Palla. She had the longest, shiniest hair of the three, which fluttered with each movement of her head. The sun had already passed its highest point, and was slowly sloping westward. “The day is already half over, isn’t it. That’s a good idea. If we don’t rest soon, the pegasi won’t last much longer!”

“Yay!” Est cheered.

“But, wait, Palla…”

“What is it, Catria?”

Catria was the middle sister, despite being the tallest and oldest-looking of the three. “If we don’t hurry, then I’m not sure we’ll make it in time. We have to risk it…” She was so worried that her voice trailed off, her tone was disjointed, and she had her face pointed downwards. 

But Palla didn’t seem concerned whatsoever. Catria was always like that. “Haste makes waste! If we push them too far, the pegasi won’t be able to fly at all, and we’ll really be in trouble! We’d have no hope of fulfilling the duty we came this far for.”

“Y-Yes… I suppose…”

Est waved Catria off. “You’re such a worrywort, Catria! Everything’s gonna be okay! There’s no way we won’t make it in time! We’re fiiiine! We’re tooootally fiiiiine!”

“Est, it’s because of how you always are that I said what I did…”

“Huh?”

“You wander off and fly around on your own, then get lost…”

“Y-You’re such a big meanie, Catria!”

“But it’s true…”

“Be that as it may, it’s beside the point right now.” Palla interrupted their conversation to clear the air between them. “I can see a small island in the distance. Let’s stop there. Est, do we still have water?”

“Huh?” Est tilted her head.

“Water. You have all three of our water bottles, don’t you?”

“Oh, um! A-About that…” Est suddenly became very quiet, and shrugged her shoulders dramatically.

Palla had a bad feeling about that response to her question. “...Y-You didn’t!”

“I’m sorry! I drank every last drop!”

“Est!!” Palla shouted as she furrowed her brow.

As Catria watched from beside them, she didn’t panic, but did sigh heavily. This was almost a daily occurrence for them. Est was making that face yet again.

“Wh-Wh-Wh-What were you thinking?!” Palla shook the reins, and her pegasus fell back right next to Est.

“I was really, really, really thirsty!” Est also shook her own reins, attempting to flee from her sister. 

But reacting that way only made Palla even angrier.

“Wait right there, you!”

“I’m sorry! I’ll never do it again!”

“...You absolutely will do it again, won’t you?! I told you to wait, Est!”

“But if I do, you’ll hit me, won’t you?”

“You bet I will!”

“Then I’m sure heck not going to wait!”

“Est!”

A chase scene unfolded so theatrical it seemed like a performance out of a play as Est and Palla’s pegasi descended to the small island below.

Marth was the first to finally speak. “...You are General Emereus, correct?”

“Indeed, I am Emereus.”

“I am Prince Marth Noah Altea. On behalf of the people of Archanea, I have come to take your life!” He withdrew his rapier from its sheath in one smooth motion. Its thin blade glowed with a faint, bluish-white light.

“Before that, Prince Marth, there is something I wish to speak with you about.”

“Unfortunately, I do not feel a need for us to do so. Prepare yourself!”

He pointed the end of his rapier at the exact center of the space between Emereus’ eyes.* At that moment, Emereus’ life was already in Marth’s hands. There were ten steps between them. With one swift slash of his sword, Marth could slice Emereus’ head from his shoulders faster than Emereus could blink.

However…

“I’ve been told that your father, King Cornelius, never lost his sense of compassion even on the battlefield, and was a true soldier. Are you telling me that you will not hear his final words?”

Hearing his father’s name made Marth’s heart waver ever so slightly.

“...”

“Well?”

“Yes, I will hear them.”

Emereus had nothing with which he could fight back. Marth did not even see a sheath anywhere on his body. He could kill Emereus whenever he wanted to. Marth slowly lowered the end of his sword. Then, he breathed a huge sigh and said, “Aren’t you going to tell me, General Emereus? My father’s last words?”

“No, I will not. Because I am about to be the person who will hear yours!”

“What?”

“Your last words, that is!”

Emereus’ face twitched ominously and twisted into the cruel smile of a demon as several archers appeared from behind the Aurelis’ flag and giant cloth covering the window. All of them had silver bows in their hands, with an arrow already nocked and pointed directly at Marth’s chest.

“No!” Even Marth himself could not defeat multiple archers at once.

As his consciousness became so clouded he nearly felt dizzy, he instantly regretted how soft he was. ‘…I let my guard down, didn’t I?’

The twang of several bow strings echoed through the air in unison. Strangely, the arrows they released moved as slow as slugs.

…Then a huge wall appeared before Marth’s eyes. Several arrows pierced the wall. He heard a single noise, but five arrows had hit the wall, all shot at the exact same millisecond. 

“Gah!”

The noise was a low, muffled growl. The wall wasn’t a wall. It was a person. A person wearing armor.

“Ja… gen?”

Marth couldn’t believe his eyes. A wall had suddenly appeared. Now, it was collapsing to the ground.

That was when he realized that the wall was actually Jagen.

“Jagen!”

“Are you… unharmed, Prince Marth?”

The five arrows sticking out of his chest had smashed through his armor and stabbed deep into his thick flesh. His blood trickled around the arrows and dripped to the white floor.

“Why Jagen, why?!”

“...Prince… Marth. I told you… didn’t I? Do not hesitate… to kill your enemy. You must become cruel… and possess the strongest of wills…” The light in Jagen’s eyes was fading fast. As the pool of blood spread across the floor, his signs of life became ever weaker. 

There was nothing Marth could do but stare into his eyes and shout over and over again, “I’m so sorry, Jagen! I made you save my life over and over and over again!”

“As was… my duty… Prince Marth… I leave the rest… to you…”

“Don’t die, please! Don’t die!”

“...”

“Jagen!”

“I will now… return to King Cornelius’ side.”

“No!”

Those were Jagen’s last words. He did not open his mouth again. Though the last vestiges of light disappeared from his eyes, he continued to stare up at the sky, as if seeing into the distant future. The corners of his mouth were curved up into a small smile. It was the smile of contentment, fulfillment, and reassurance that could only be known by those who had done everything they needed to do in life.

“Why is this happening…?”

How could his life end so suddenly? He was a captain of the peerless Altea Palace Guard. An invincible holy knight with a body like steel. Yet now he was now dead on the floor, with five arrows in his chest, in a foreign kingdom far away from home.

“...Jagen…”

Drowning out Marth’s murmured voice, Emereus shouted, “Kill him! Arrows! Fire your arrows!"

Marth stood up as tall as he could, and pointed his rapier towards the heavens.

No… He was no longer Marth. His majesty as a prince and his innocence as a sixteen-year-old boy were gone. He had become a warrior filled with an insatiable bloodlust; a savage wild beast with bloodshot eyes and fangs bared at his prey.

And beasts cannot speak. He said not a word as he lunged at the archers with godlike speed.

“Uwahhh!”

The first archer didn’t even have enough time to draw his bowstring. The sound of Marth slashing his rapier echoed through the air, and the archer was cut in half from left to right. Marth used the momentum from that attack to slice open the second archer behind him. And as he pulled his rapier back towards his side, the handle cracked the third archer’s skull wide open. 

All three corpses collapsed to the floor at the exact same moment. Even amongst every technique of the heavens-style, none like Marth’s current movements existed. In his beast-like state, he only swung his sword as his bloodlust directed him to.

The twang of bowstrings sounded from behind him. The two remaining archers each shot an arrow. But their efforts were futile. Marth was no longer in front of them, but directly behind them.

“Guh?!”

“Ah!”

They were only granted enough time to make a single sound as their last words, as a second later, Marth slaughtered them both at once.

“W-Wait!”

Upon witnessing every single one of his guard soldiers be killed, Emereus fell to his knees. Was he going to attempt to strike a bargain, or was he going to beg for his life? None will ever know, as Marth did not hesitate to cut off his head with a swing of his rapier that happened so quickly no person who has ever existed could have followed it.

Emereus’s head left behind a trail of red as it rolled to the white floor. And with that, the battle to retake Aurelis Castle was won. But Marth felt not even the slightest joy in his victory, only an incurable exhaustion and an overwhelming sense of personal failure.

-X-

Hardin and the other soldiers all cheered with joy.

Julian had just rushed down the stairs and reported to them that General Emereus was dead.

“Alright, all that’s left is for us to raise the Aurelis flag atop the castle spire! Everyone in the city should be able to see it, including the enemy reinforcements trying to return. I can already see the looks on their faces!” Hardin slowly sheathed his bloodsoaked sword. 

Everyone else holding a sword did the same, and those with lances lowered the tip to the ground. The fighting seemed to be over for now. 

Hardin’s eyes glistened as he looked up at the spire towering over them. The Archanea Liberation Army had retaken Aurelis Castle and avenged its fallen king. With an army of just over twenty soldiers, they’d defeated Dolhr’s entire occupation army in Aurelis. He couldn’t possibly put his feelings into words.

“It was our strength that led us to this victory!” He exclaimed as Caeda flew down over their heads from reconnaissance duty. White pegasus feathers fluttered all around them.

“Hey, Julian! Marth! Where is Marth!?” She asked, her expression a swirling mixture of fear and hope.

“You’ve got nothin’ to worry about! Don’t be too surprised, but the person to take out General Emereus was Prince Marth himself!”

“Thank goodness!” A smile bloomed across her face like a lily, and she breathed a huge sigh of relief. Her cheeks were so red they looked as if they were caked in makeup. “Really? He did it?”

“He sure did! In the dark red room at the top of the tower, I saw him swing his rapier, and… bam! He lopped Emereus’ head right off!”

“Wait. The throne room is made of white marble.” Someone cut into their conversation - they looked to see that it was horseman Sedgar. He was eyeing Julian suspiciously. “C’mon now, did you really take a good look?”

“I mean… By the time I got there, the battle was already over…”

“You slacker…”

“Hey, I didn’t cut no corners! I wanted to give you the good news as soon as possible, so I ran right back down! You should be praising me for a job well done!”

With an ear-to-ear grin on his face, Hardin said to Julian as if he was soothing a child, “I believe you, Julian. So that means the prince and everyone else is alright?”

“Yes! Was that not obvious?!”

Julian had no idea that Jagen’s lifeless body was in a corner of the bloodsoaked throne room.

“But Caeda, Prince Marth seems like a much more… how should I put it? Sentimental? Emotional? Guy than I thought.”

“Hm? Why do you say that?”

“Well, when I came into the throne room, he was in such shock that he was standing still, but his shoulders were shaking a bit. I thought it best not to say anything to him, but… He was cryin’. I just know it. I understand exactly how he feels, though, to have just finished such a big job!” Julian said as he wiped a bit of dirt off the end of his nose with the tip of his thumb.

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