There Will Be A Dawn

As a direct contrast, the scion of House Aegir was entirely excited about the task in front of him. (He was also currently looking like something of a walking armory, as he had a plethora of various weapons stored along his body and jangling almost hypnotically with his movements – two swords, two lances, a bow, and a set of gauntlets) was entirely excited about the task in front of him. Did fighting off the littler turtles mean that he didn’t get the glory of slaying the monster? Sure, that was true. But that wasn’t the point! There were much more important things that they had all been sent for, and Ferdinand felt that he would fulfill these things by protecting the village from those smaller turtles.

And that’s why Ferdinand simply could not believe what he was hearing from one of the others that had been assigned to this team – Takumi of Hoshido, if he recalled what he had heard correctly. Shocked and very much appalled, Ferdinand stood up (briefly grunting as he did) before crossing his arms and looking at Takumi. 

And that’s when Ferdinand started talking.

“What the ‘hell’ is this?” The way Ferdinand said “hell” was awkward and unfamiliar, “Your talent being squandered? Your time being wasted? Do you not understand why we are here?” Ferdinand stood up even straighter now, and some serious energy crept into his words. “We are not here to simply put notches onto our belts and claim the glory of a kill. We are not here to merely sharpen our weaponcraft, either. We have been sent to this corner of the world – much as the others have been sent to other corners – because there are things that endanger everyone!”

“The monsters here endanger those at… well, it may not be your home, I suppose, but they endanger the people of the place you have come to study. But it is not merely that, though, you see…” Here, Ferdinand gestured back in the direction of Thurii Village. “Sophrosyne endangers the people of Brigid. Everybody in that village is put into danger by that thing, and we are here in large part to make sure that they do not fall afoul of a horrific fate that they do not deserve. We are here to protect them! And that is why we are here to fight the… Sophis, as we are calling them. if we were not here, the turtles would swarm far less encumbered over the shores, and they would make it to the village. Horror would result, Takumi.”

“It is… thoroughly irresponsible and callous to complain that you are tasked with helping to keep them safe. I could not call myself a noble if I did not act here to protect these people, and I do not believe that you can call yourself a royal if you do not feel that same responsibility, whether or not they are your people. Indeed… this is what any good person should do.” He turned towards Morgan, now. “Accordingly, I will be heading to the frontlines, Morgan. Thank you for your work in strategizing for us. Now, as I am skilled with multiple melee weapons, I fit there strategically as well – and to demonstrate my commitment, I will go now! Do not worry, though, as I do not intend to engage in full until we are all joined. I will merely pick off stragglers.”

And Ferdinand headed in the direction of the beach – standing on a small hillock, he pulled out the bow that he had received from the clerics of Garreg Mach. He was not as skilled in the art of the bow as he would perhaps have liked, but it would still harm little to use it now in the preliminary stages of the battle. And indeed, the turtles were starting to gather on the shore. It was early, now, as the bulk of the combat had not begun, but some of Sophrosyne’s spawn had begun to crawl up onto the beach, and Ferdinand did not think it would be long now before battle came in full. One or two of the smaller turtles had begun to wander off – pulling back his bowstring, Ferdinand sent an arrow in its direction with a thwip, hitting it in the shell and slowing it immensely… but not killing it, at least not immediately, though the Beacon Bow’s blessing brought it to a halt shortly thereafter. Ferdinand frowned… he could stand to do better than that.

Almedha watched Ferdinand storm off, then turned to Takumi. “He does have a point,” she said. “The purpose of fighting is to protect people, isn’t it? We need an archer on this team for reach and accuracy--the smaller monsters will be harder to hit and keep track of. In some ways, they may be more dangerous than their mother! Are you scared, Takumi? Is that it?” she teased him with a smile. “Here,” she offered, holding out her hand for the young man to take. “I will protect you.”

She looked at the tactician. “Morgan, put me next to Takumi. I’ll watch over him,” she said with a wink, to show that she really meant I’ll keep an eye on him, “and while he snipes those heading past us toward the villages, I’ll smash any that get close to him.”

Leaning closer to Takumi, she whispered, albeit not very quietly, “And if Sophrosyne tries to flee to the ocean, we’ll stop her together.” More loudly, she added, “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“Almedha perfect!” Morgan responded with a smile. Morgan had only spoken to her once or twice, but the woman seemed surprisingly strong. And probably more than what she was. She wasn’t sure…. just yet… but Morgan thought she was secretly really powerful.

“I have absolutely no clue as to how we will get her on our side. Though I’m pretty sure we can with relative ease. She doesn’t want her name as Captain Aynat getting around for obvious reasons, and I’m sure she’d prefer her crew to be safe on the seas. If we can properly explain our mission to her, than get convince her to join our side, I’m sure it’ll be okay.” Morgan responded.

“So I do have some sort of idea. Though I can’t promise it’ll be… as successful as we all imagine it could be. Using our knowledge about her identity and her activities might prove useful. She’s a farmer, probably inexperienced with an actual organization like ours. We have a lot of diplomatic favor on our side.” Morgan explained.

@strongdragonmother

Among the plans being discussed in Team Sophrosyne… they really should have come up with a name that gently flowed off the tongue and wasn’t just a mess to pronounce… Morgan was in the middle of suggesting utilizing the naval presence against the big bad boy. She had two strategic objectives at the moment… Babel and Tanya. 

According to Morgan’s research, Tanya was a villager here in Thurii Village. A run of the mill poor farmer. After hearing rumors of her late night disappearances and hearing of a strange pirate by the name of Captain Aynat, Morgan was able to put it together. Aynat was just Tanya backwards after all. 

With the political issues happening in the town most of the people probably wouldn’t notice or care. Morgan wasn’t one for such politics. All she cared was that her group made it home safe. And of course that her friends in other groups came home safe. Morgan had to insure that each and every asset they could get was on their side. 

“I wasn’t, um… calling me a queen is a bit of a stretch. I was more like… Ashnard’s girlfriend, I guess you could say… We broke up quite some time ago. That’s probably why you’ve never… wait.” How could Mist have never heard of Daein having a queen? Without her, who would have (falsely) identified Pelleas as Daein’s heir? Something strange was afoot….

“Tell me… who is the current ruler of Daein?” Almedha knew such a person to be queen Micaiah, but she had a feeling Mist would have a different answer.

At the clarification, Mist blinks, now feeling incredibly silly that she had jumped to such a conclusion. Though it was weird that she hadn’t heard mention of a lover until now… then again, Mist had never paid much attention to politics before the war, especially not ones belonging to countries outside of Crimea. “O-oh. That… makes sense! Sorry, I just… huh?”

In the midst of her rambling, Almedha stops Mist with a strange question, causing the girl to raise a curious brow. Didn’t she know who was ruling Daein now? The Mad King’s War had practically spanned the entire continent, so Mist figured almost everyone in Tellius had at least some idea of what went on.

What to say next? Almedha knew that the Begnion occupation force was not doing a very good job of governing, that the peace Mist was living in would not last long, and that there was, in fact, someone with a claim to the throne (even if it was not Pelleas). She definitely did not want Mist to know that last bit but... should she warn her of the future to come? Or would that just make things worse? Would Mist even believe her?

“My name, heroic?” Almedha said, lowering Cynthia’s hands. “I don’t know. But I like Cynthia! It’s cute, and yet… elegant. If I had a daughter…” she shook her head. “Ah, that reminds me–the last person I’m shopping for is… well… my son. But I…” No need to explain the whole situation, she thought. “I don’t really know what sort of things he’d like. Hmm… he’s a staff officer and a mage, so… maybe he’d like books? Oh! And he almost always wears black robes.” According to rumor, anyway…

It occurred to Almedha that she had not had many friends over the course of her life so far. After all that had happened with Ashnard, she had found it hard to trust those that were not her family for some time... but something about this place was making her change, giving her the courage to trust.

“Thank you, Morgan,” Almedha said, and eyed the tree, looking for another branch of the right size. She wanted to speak more with Morgan and learn more about her, but… considering she was not willing to share much about herself, it seemed unfair. She frowned, frustrated.

Well, what better to get out frustration than by chopping wood? Choosing a branch that looked to be the right size, she raised her axe and swung, cutting it off in two chops, before bending down to snap off the twigs and leaves.

“Hmmm….. How do I made this a fishing pole? Do I simply put the thread on it? Or…. Do I do something else?” Morgan asked the woman. She seemed to know much more than she did. After all, embarrassingly enough Morgan had planned to carve a fishing pole. This was much more simple.

“Well, when you look at a fishing pole,” she said, “it’s really only one or two inches thick, right? I wonder if there’s a specific type of wood you’re supposed to use. There aren’t many forests in my homeland, so I don’t know much about trees…”

Almedha walked up to the top of the fallen tree where the girl stood, and inspected the branch she had chopped at. “I think if we just removed all those leaves and smaller branches, it should work. Here, do you want me to do it? We could make a fishing pole together, if you would like… my name is Almedha. I’m a part of the Golden Deer house. What about you?”

“Oh…. in that case I believe I found something useful.” Morgan responded as she began to snap off some of the extra twigs and branches on the side of the longer branch. Soon she had her branch and was ready to do… well just about anything with it.

“I hope this will work. I’m Morgan, also with the Golden Deer.” Morgan greeted giving the woman a curt nod and small smile. “Oh feel free to take any branch you want. Or the whole tree if you’d like it. I think I’ll go on recommendation and just use the branch.” 

“I can do you one better,” the old witch croaked. She spoke with an accent that Almedha had never heard before. “I can let you speak to them yourself… if you can pay, that is. Ten gold for every soul I summon.”

Keep reading

Suddenly, Almedha lets go of Mist’s hand and approaches the witch, surprising the cleric by how readily she was jumping into this. Shouldn’t they ask more questions, and at least get a better feel as to whether or not the witch’s claims were true? 

That was definitely something Titania or Soren would do, and Mist guessed those instincts had rubbed off on her a bit.

“Al…” Mist opened her mouth to call the other’s name, only to stop when the witch starts some sort of strange ritual. Something about it all gave the young cleric an unnerving feeling, but despite that, she found it difficult to look away. At some point, her curiousity had gotten the better of her, and she had grown interested in seeing if this woman could actually summon spirits or not…

“Oh, I… I thought you knew…” she said. Surely Mist had heard of her before? Not to mention that time she came to see the Greil Mercenaries. Come to think of it, the girl before her looked… a little smaller, and a little weaker than Almedha remembered–not that she remembered particularly well, since they had not spoken before…

“But if you don’t know… oh, now I’ve gone and made you curious. Very well; I will tell you.” Almedha leaned forward, whispering so that only Mist would hear.

“It’s a little shameful to admit, but I was once… Ashnard’s lover.”

A loud gasp leaves the cleric before she even has a chance to hold it back, her unoccupied hand going up to cover her now gaping mouth. The other was still pressing the cloth to her nose, though she nearly dropped it in her surprise. Was… Almedha joking? With all that time they spent fighting Daein, Mist had never heard tale of a queen, let alone seen one!

She was not quick enough. Something sharply connected with her head in a blow that would have scrambled any beorc’s brains. Almedha, however, quickly recovered from the shock and whipped around just as the offending object–a staff–clattered against the floor. It looked like one of the staves that the beorc used for their magic. Why would their enemy throw such a valuable tool at them? Perhaps it had simply run out of uses.

Grabbing the staff off the ground, Almedha turned toward where the people stood and prepared to throw it back at them, but… why did they look so young? And why were they… wearing uniforms?

Wait, were they… students?

Almedha lowered the staff. “What is going on?!” she cried, asking no one person in particular.

“Miss Almedha! Are you okay?”

 It was a grievous mistake to bring in brute force as his first means of defense, since the splints that blasted back were enough to damage any regular civilian. That is— of course, if Almedha hadn’t taken the brunt of the splash fragments, that easily could have knocked her wits clear off her shoulders. He didn’t even have the opportunity to trudge over to her, since she, in emerald glory, had recovered with nothing but a firm grip on an old staff. Tracing her parted shoulders with his eyes, he immediately turned his gaze away, since she seemed sensibly able on her feet. 

He’d have to ask her about that peculiar sense of recovery when they weren’t two figures, out of place, in a flurry of paper planes, wooden crates, and wardrobes. A crate flew over head, with enough arching trajectory for him to duck. 

“Students!” Lukas’ voice took a booming turn, crashing down as coolly as a mid-winter chill. He played with no fervor in his eyes, just curated bemusement. To think, he had half the mind to write up this entire group of hooligans. (And in the other half, he could almost piece together this little charade as a ramshackle attempt at levitation practice.) “What is going on here?”

Even with her draconic toughness, it still kind of hurt.

After the loud crash, the room seemed suddenly still and silent. Pushing a crate off her back, Almedha straightened up and looked around, moving off of Lukas. It was empty... aside from the wreckage, that is.

“It’s… free? Oh that’s so generous!” Almedha took the knife and held it close to her chest, careful not to unsheathe it. One gift down, two to go.

“Yes, I believe we are in the same house,” she said. “I’ve seen you in some of my classes. Um… ‘fear the deer’, and all that… My name is Almedha. What’s yours?”

And now she was completing her other objective–learning the girl’s name and befriending her. This day was going well!

“If that is what you wish, then I have no problem with it.” Almedha extended her empty hand for the girl to take. “But this… witch woman may only be able to see to one of us at a time, so one of us may have to go first. Still, we can walk together…” She cast her gaze down the shadowed alley. In the light of the setting son, she could see the stone walls clearly, and at the end there was a figure who beckoned to them. A ghost? No… it was the witch herself. The old woman disappeared into a building–her shop, most likely.

Mist nods wordlessly, taking Almedha’s offered hand. As they walk down the alley, the cleric takes a few light breaths to calm her nerves, her efforts aided by her companion’s comforting presence. It was strange, but… something about Almedha felt nostalgic. The way her hand reassuringly wrapped around her own, and the warmth that emanated from it…

It reminded Mist of her mother, almost. Pretty weird to think of a classmate in that way, but that was the only word she could find for it. Motherly.

Her grip on Almedha’s hand tightens when they spot a dark, ominous figure at the end of the alley. The witch, no doubt. When the woman slinks off into her shop, Mist follows along with Almedha, speaking up once they were inside.

Almedha let go of Mist’s hand to step forward, surprised by the sudden excitement that came over her as she did. She had not realized how calming it had been to be in contact with her. Maybe she really was anxious to do this...

Her hand shook as she deposited the coins on the counter. The witch counted each one carefully, then scooped them up and moved to the back of the shop, where she dropped them in an oddly-shaped clay pot before returning to the counter.

The witch moved to the lit fireplace that stood against the side of the shop. Picking up a ladle that lay beside it, she stirred the cauldron that hung above the flames. Dark shapes--wait, were those... bat wings?--moved in the bubbling liquid. The witch lifted a small amount of the brew with the ladle, bent forward and inhaled the steam deeply. Straightening up, she returned to the counter and said to Almedha: “Now then... whose soul do you wish to summon?”

Almedha swallowed hard, and said clearly and firmly, “His name is Rajaion.” Immediately she regretted saying so; telling the witch the gender of the person she wanted to speak to gave her more to go off of if this were a scam.

But... what if it was real?

“Imagine his face...” the witch said in her toad-like voice.

Almedha closed her eyes and tried to visualize Rajaion in front of her. She focused hard on every detail she could remember: his teardrop-shaped face, and the the flowing hair that framed it; his long nose; his beady, blood-red eyes that sparkled with a determined look; his sharp eyebrows; and his mouth... he had smiled often growing up with Almedha, but... would he be smiling now? 

“Imagine his voice...”

Almedha tried to think of some of the things he used to say. He teased people quite often, but... whenever he went too far, he knew how just how to cheer them up. She remembered his laugh, his jokes... the way he whispered. She remembered everything.

“Now... talk to him.”

“I... Brother?” Another bit of information that would help the witch fake a response, but Almedha was not thinking of that so much now.

The witch opened her mouth and said, “Almedha...?” 

It was Rajaion’s voice exactly.

“Brother! Oh, Rajaion!” Sobs shook Almedha as she cried out for her lost family. It was really him! 

“Hey,” Rajaion said softly. “Hey, baby sis... don’t cry....”

“I’m so sorry! Because of me, you... you suffered so much...”

“Is that what this is about?”

“Can you...?” she swallowed hard. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“Is that really what you need, Almedha? Me to forgive you?”

“What? I...”

“I can forgive you, sure. But will you ever forgive yourself?”

“I...”

“You can’t live like this. You can’t just keep feeling bad about what happened to me. I chose to come save you and your baby. You made an honest mistake...”

“I...” she was near hysterics now. “I was so selfish! I never should have left Goldoa! And you gave everything to get me out of the mess I made!”

“Well... that’s what family’s for, isn’t it?”

Almedha wept quietly. “And now, your own child won’t even get to see you...”

“My child will have the best mother, aunt and uncle in the world to grow up with.”

“But I..." she hiccuped. “I... ”

“You know what would help me find peace, baby sister?” Almedha swallowed back her tears and looked up at the witch’s face, wishing it could be his. “I gave everything to help your son. Can you just... make sure he’s doing alright for me?”

“Of course!” she cried, trying to smile through her tears. “I’ll do that!”

The old witch’s lips twisted into Rajaion’s smile. “Thanks,” he said. “Tell Kurthy and Ena... I love...”

“Rajaion... oh, Rajaion... my brother...”