Chapter Text
I do believe we are in the endgame now.
Chapter LIV
The fighting had already mostly died down by the time Macaria and I got the Truthreapers organized. Almost all of the Peacemakers had chosen to fight to the bitter end, so nauseated were they by the idea of surrendering to inferior surface dwellers. Those who did throw down their weapons were tried and summarily found guilty of war crimes of the highest caliber, including but not limited to excessive military technological escalation, intentional endangerment of nonhostile civilians, and seditious conspiracy. Not a single one of them chose King Dimitri’s offer of sparing the death penalty in exchange for information regarding the Tragedy of Duscur.
That was a role the remaining Truthreapers were willing, if not happy, to fulfill. Problem was, speaking to Dimitri regarding who was really behind Duscur would implicate Thales and the Oathseekers. And that I could not do. The Second Axiom, and more importantly the First, would never allow it.
But there wasn’t nothing I could do about that. Not now. It was as I had asked Themis before the invasion of Fhirdiad. I just needed to find a Truthreaper who could invoke the Third Axiom.
And I happened to know exactly of whom to make my demand.
I pointedly ignored the searing hot pain that suddenly manifested in my cerebellum, marching towards Odesse. He was looking a little less pale than he had in Curaswald, the Gloucester capital. More time in the sun would do that, I supposed. His fluorescent orange hair had grown out a great deal, and now he would have matched Rodrigue. It suited him.
You cannot do this, Katáktisi snarled, coiling tight around my hippocampus and digging into it like barbed wire. If you truly wish for justice to take this world, you will need my counsel. You will need my strength.
The counsel and strength of someone Axiom-bound to serve the Agastya, I countered. How can I stand against Thales if I’m compromised, just like Edelgard?
We will find another way, as we found to deal with Caiaphas. The Axioms did not protect him, in the end.
I didn’t bother arguing, the wrongness of my companion obvious to anyone paying attention. “Momus. Good to see you’re doing well.”
Momus turned his attention from the balcony to me. The Truthreapers had been taken into Kingdom custody, and soon enough they would be interrogated regarding Agarthan involvement in Duscur. It was therefore critical that I resolved this issue immediately. For now, they had been placed in some of the now-abandoned guest quarters of the Riegan manor. Momus had been speaking in hushed tones with Ulyssea before I intruded. Phaedrus, I knew her as. “Well met to you too, Orion. It is fortunate that you arrived when you did. I shudder to think how much longer our own executions could have been stalled.”
“They started with the remaining Oathseekers,” Ulyssea said derisively. Her shoulder-length hair swayed as she turned to face me. “That alone would have taken another month at least. They aren’t here anymore, in case you were wondering. Took their Warp Pendants back to Shambhala the second the Viskam network went down. No idea where they were hiding them. Spineless cowards, all.”
“Not to minimize your achievements, obviously,” Momus hastened to say. “The dissolution of Project Katabasis was an incredible accomplishment. And before you ask,” he said, putting a hand up before I could get a word in, “I no longer have my own Warp Pendant with the coordinates to Shambhala. It was taken from me before I even set foot in the city.”
“An ‘incredible accomplishment’ is one way to put it. An infinite abyss of possibilities for further Agarthan expansion, reduced to refuse and regret. All because the Agastya can’t tolerate others having better ideas than him. The bastard deserves what’s coming to him.”
We really should kill her, Katáktisi said. She is a Peacemaker who has not bent the knee to the Agastya. She stopped being a Peacemaker the moment Cleobulus let her go. While I didn’t exactly like Phaedrus, I shoved the instinct down.
“How have you been faring since the Kingdom army arrived?” I asked.
“It’s a bit too early to say. Steropes and Mnemosyne are having their reunion in the other room. I don’t know what the Church of Seiros will do when they learn of our true nature. Amnesty will no doubt be hard to come by.”
“I promise I’ll do what I can. But there’s something…” I winced. “Else I wanted to talk about.”
“Oh?”
“I would like to formally request,” I got out, the words trying desperately to drag themselves back down my throat no matter how much mutilation it took, “that you completely sever my connection to Katáktisi. If I am— if I am to stand against the Oathseekers, in any capacity, and not be compelled to betray you or my friends, then giving it up is the only way forward.”
Stunned silence.
“What the hell do you mean?” Ulyssea demanded. “You would murder the Harbinger of Progress, and for what? That’s the only shred of credibility we have!”
“And how are you violating the Fourth Axiom?” Momus asked, hand at his chin. “You shouldn’t even be able to consider suicide like that as a possibility.”
“The procedure would only kill the parts of me that are holding me back,” I spat. “If there is another path forward, I cannot conceive of it.”
I will never forgive this! My upstairs neighbor howled. You would throw away everything!
Is this not what strength is? To turn away from easy power, and claim only the might that is mine? Did you not say yourself that for every benefit you bring, there is an equal detriment as well?
Something stewed across our connection, a confusing mix of boiling hate and blinding pride. Looking at it was almost as nauseating as the machine-flesh that lay beneath the form of the Fierce Deity. I know you well enough, Katáktisi hissed. You will not be dissuaded from this fool’s errand. I will take matters into my own hands.
It tried to seize control of my lips, to declare that Ulyssea was right and that it was a foolish thought to begin with. But it met fierce resistance. I had been preparing practically since the moment I first laid eyes on it to resist its will. This wasn’t new. Had it truly been its own whims that had prevented me from becoming its slave on the moon, in Termina? Only in part. I had always been stronger than it, and I think both of us knew that. It had loved me for that strength, in its own way. It was because I had refused to succumb to the draw of easy power that it had wanted to form our bond in the first place.
“You’ve gone mad, Katáktisi. You would throw away all the power of the last Mark One Crestwraith, and for what? To cling to a mortal shell long corrupted by it? Ignoring how it shouldn’t even be possible for you to ask for this for a moment, it’s just really stupid!”
“You will find Orion to be a stronger sort than most, and a wiser one as well,” Momus mused. “Yes. I can invoke the Third Axiom, order Katáktisi to sever its connection with you and delete its ability to form connections with new hosts. We would still have access to your shared form, but it would be only you, Link Harkinian.”
“You have the clearance to know the Word?”
“No,” Momus grinned. “But Themis does, and she spoke it the moment you introduced yourself as Orion. I happen to pride myself on my good memory.”
“This is ridiculous,” Phaedrus snapped. “I would not have joined the Truthreapers if I had known there would be all this simpering involved.”
“This is what must be done,” I said. I let my eye drift past Momus, towards the night past the balcony. Derdriu was beyond, a sprawling vista of roofs and canals as far as the eye could see, illuminated only by candlelight and magical fire. This was the world I was trying to save. For all its faults, for all the rot that stewed below the surface, the people of Fódlan were worth protecting. Even from myself. Especially from myself. “I’m ready.”
I wanted, Katáktisi admitted, to walk with you—
The Word left Momus’ lips, that horrid and jagged Word that made my skin crawl and my muscles stop. I stood straight at attention, the full moon twinkling overhead with gentle kindness. This was it.
I heard Momus’ Command, but did not really process it. The words were not for me, not truly. They were for Katáktisi, here at the end. And so was I.
There was a flicker of something pleasantly warm, and it took me a moment to recognize it as understanding. Was it forgiveness for its own murder, at the end? Surely not. It had said not five minutes ago that it would never forgive me for this.
But I forgave it for that.
At once, my entire body became pain. It was not that I was in pain, per se; rather, it was that pain became all that I was and all I could ever be. Inch by fetid kilometer, Katáktisi’s rotten arcanobiomechanical tentacles extracted themselves from my mind, tearing through neurons and catching on connectomes where they went. The Crestwraith had entrenched itself deeply within me indeed. I could practically hear the squelching of flesh filling the vacuum that Katáktisi had once occupied. Vaguely, I could feel my hands tightening on the railing of the balcony, but I could only focus on my internal conquest on what had once effortlessly been my own. The front lines were drowning in cerebral jelly, the blood-brain barrier utterly devastated. My amygdala was working overtime to supply me with the adrenaline I would need to continue the fight, my prefrontal cortex was in a vain effort to remain upright, and my brain stem was in an open rebellion of vain self-preservation. Deeper still, core logic matrices were screaming, Umbragarthium chips almost melting under the strain of processing the order to die. Logic centers bricked, critical subroutines throwing errors left and right, the spiritual digestion system vomiting time and meaning and—
And it was done.
At last, it was done.
Now I was just in blinding pain rather than being blinding pain. I’d call that an upgrade.
When sensation returned to my physical form, I realized I was holding Katáktisi’s old chassis tight enough to draw blood. I hadn’t remembered taking it out. It was little more than a lump of Umbragarthium now. Really, it was practically a Mark Three Crestwraith; I would be subject to the Axioms while wearing it, but the moment I took the mask off, its hold on me would cease. I could still transform by putting on the mask, but never again would it speak to me, never again would it criticize my choices and offer its own advice, solicited or otherwise. It was hard to believe that my mind could be my own again, after so long.
“I hope you sleep forever,” I whispered, before my legs gave out, overwhelmed by the whole ordeal. The oblivion of sleep was ambrosia to the pain of the severance of my bond.
But there was one more thought that crossed my mind as rest finally took me. Had it been the Second Axiom that had kept it from me for so long? Or was it the only decision I had left to make?
Agartha was going to burn.
Agartha was going to burn.
Agartha was going to burn.
Agartha was going to burn.
~~~
Agartha was going to burn.
How else was something better supposed to grow from its ashes? What else could allow Fódlan to become more than its brutal-bloodsoaked past? Who else stood against true progress? Why else had this war even started? When else but now, when I was no longer constrained by the Axioms? Those were rhetorical questions, of course.
The only query left to ask was where Shambhala was. If everything went to plan, we would soon find out. I had conspired with Bias and Chilon, the Forger of Ideals and Agartha’s Fist, to launch a javelin of light upon Enbarr. They came with a critical flaw— the dark magic used for their targeting algorithms were susceptible to being tracked. That signature would point us directly to Shambhala. Now it was just a matter of surviving.
And I had an idea for that too.
Did I regret the sacrifice of the last Mark One Crestwraith? No. I would miss its presence in the back of my mind, the snarky remarks we would share, its embarrassment whenever it had to admit that I had a good idea. We were comrades, perhaps even friends. But there was no other way our partnership could end. I had to seize strength with my own two hands, and neither of us would stand for anything less. How else could I live up to the title of being Katáktisi’s champion?
The severance of our connection was certainly debilitating, on some level. My legs felt like jelly, even days afterward. The splitting headache from Katáktisi’s messy extraction had already persisted longer than I could tolerate, with no signs of letting up anytime soon. The only reason I hadn’t been put on bed rest for the foreseeable future was because Mercedes literally couldn’t keep me confined to the ward. Even years after the events of Termina, I always felt more comfortable if I had things to do. I did have to begrudgingly agree to a ban on being in combat until the matter resolved itself. I just hoped it wasn’t permanent; I wanted to be part of the assault on Shambhala, after all.
“So,” Claude said, his expression unusually serious, “what did the Dukedom want from Derdriu in the first place? The timing seems very strange— the Empire had just taken the city when they started their attack. I get that Faerghus has a habit of picking fights with everyone around them, but— no offense by the way—“
“None taken,” Dimitri commented. We had gathered on what was once the round table at which Leicester’s five great lords would debate and squabble over personal power and, at times tangentially, the wellbeing of their citizens. Light spilled into the room through an enormous, opulent stained glass window. Beyond, reconstruction efforts were already underway. The Kingdom and the Knights of Seiros would be marching south by the end of the day, back towards the Empire. We had put off that stated mission to rescue Archbishop Rhea for long enough.
“Point is, it seems like a tactical blunder,” Prince Khalid continued. “From what I’ve heard, you guys know their goals better than anyone. So I recommend you start talking.”
“The Peacemakers wanted to get Thales after his resources had been drained, obviously,” Phaedrus snapped. She had been in a sour mood ever since I had had my bond excised, probably because she thought Katáktisi owed her a favor. “He’s our biggest enemy, and now he’s playing us all for fools just like always.”
“He didn’t succeed in taking us out of the picture,” Mnemosyne said quietly, her eyes on the stained glass window instead of the rest of the congregation. “He thinks the only opposition left is the Kingdom and the Empire.”
“And what good does that do us?” Macaria sighed. “We’re a bunch of worthless traitors hiding in the asscrack of Fodra. We’re in no position to best the Agastya now.”
“Spare some kindness for their decor, Macaria,” commented Steropes. Mnemosyne clearly got the blonde part of her hair from him and exactly nothing else. “This is far from… what you described. It’s not Zanado.” He cast his gaze upward. “Although the asymmetries in their works are an eyesore indeed. This is why we need to sell them laser levels…”
“We have gotten off track,” Momus interrupted, sparing everyone from yet another Steropes anarcho-capitalist rant. “To answer the initial question, yes, the Dukedom wanted the opportunity to reach and kill Thales, the divinely anointed leader of the Oathseekers. But they also hoped to further distract Katáktisi from Project Katabasis, a measure at which they failed. The Agastya had already left before they arrived, and by the time the Dukedom was able to take the city, their efforts for further expansion outside of Fódlan were only weeks away from already being thwarted.”
“So Derdriu was a distraction play,” Claude said, stroking his beard. “I see the vision. It’s pretty clever, all things considered. But a distraction play for what, exactly? This is the first I’m hearing of this ‘Project Katabasis’, and I like to pride myself on knowing more than my enemies. Especially when it comes to matters outside of the continent.”
I mustered the ability to speak. “The Dukedom, or the Peacemakers, rather, was making strides towards taking control over Hyrule, my home. The only way to reach it is through a portal in the Sacred Gwenhwyvar. I dealt with it myself.”
“Well, that’s a horrifying thought,” Dimitri said. “The Dukedom was difficult to clear out from Faerghus, let alone from that forest you’ve spoken of before. You said it drains life force?”
I nodded, not possessed of the ability to elaborate further.
“A portal, you say? In all my travels, I haven’t heard of anything like that before. I think that’s reason enough to dig a little deeper.” Claude’s eyes bored into mine, and I did my best to meet it.
“It’s an Outrealm Rift,” Phaedrus said, sparing me from having to respond. “Alternate dimension that’s even more degenerate than this one. You’re better off not wasting your time.”
“And what did they want with this ‘Hyrule’?”
“You guys know about survival of the fittest, right? That applies to Fodra as a whole. If we don’t spread into other worlds, and fast, other worlds will spread into ours. And between you and me, I’d rather be the boot than the supplicant underneath it. That was the purpose of Project Katabasis. This world is our hell. It is a stagnant beast, laboring for every breath it takes, teeming with you lot that cling to it like a tumor. The Peacemakers saw that dark omen brewing. We have to ensure that it is us who will spread across the Outrealms and multiply.
“Unlike Thales, the Peacemakers had no such misplaced affection for Sothis’ playpen. They tried to abandon this wretched hive once and for all, leaving this world to die choking on its own juices. Meanwhile the Outrealms will belong to us, as innumerable as the stars twinkling above your tomb.”
“And then Katáktisi took it all away,” Lelantos snapped, “and good riddance to the lot of it. It was never going to be sustainable, considering how the population was treated. If only they had taken the Seirosian brainwashing method, then maybe they could have become something relevant.”
“Can we stop arguing for five seconds?” Mnemosyne said, echoing my sentiments exactly. All this bickering was only worsening my headache.
“Eh, it’s not so bad,” Claude said, leaning back in his chair. That easy grin was still plastered on his face. “It’s just like when the five great lords are all stuffed in here. Whole lot of name calling and not much else. Good times.”
“Let me make sure that I have the facts straight,” Dimitri said, taking control of the meeting in the way that only he really could. “These ‘Agarthans’ that had taken over Faerghus are the same sort as Solon and Kronya, and they have orchestrated the Tragedy of Duscur as well as the horrible things during the year 1180. Now you claim to be some sort of splinter faction that wants to support us in our battle against Edelgard. I feel that I am missing something of dire importance.”
“Not exactly an uncommon occurrence for your kind,” came Macaria’s snide reply. Dimitri did a poor job of hiding his exasperation.
“The Dukedom was a splinter faction just as much as the Truthreapers are. The original Agarthans, the Oathseekers at the beck and call of Thales, were the ones who have worked to undermine the surface world since the days of Nemesis. The Peacemakers broke from them to form the Faerghus Dukedom because they could no longer tolerate the idea that Agartha had to use the people of Fodra as their proxies. They wanted to conquer directly and expand outside of Fodra, using whatever advanced technology they could to do so. The Truthreapers broke away from Thales and Cleobulus because, for one reason or another, both of them kind of really suck. You can think of the Oathseekers like Adrestia in that they’re an ancient echo of a grand civilization twisted into something unrecognizable, the Peacemakers like Faerghus in that they’re on some level a bunch of warmongering psychos that took power from the Oathseekers, and the Truthreapers like Leicester in that we’re the new kids on the block who spend more time screaming at each other than actually doing anything productive.” I slumped slightly in my chair, throat hoarse from talking but elated that I could finally speak my mind, with nothing to occlude my words.
“I hope you’re not saying the Kingdom and the Empire ‘both kind of really suck’,” His Highness said, mirth in his eye.
“Of course not,” I replied with the same tone.
Dimitri’s expression became more serious. “Since the days of Nemesis… it’s hard to believe that so much misery has been inflicted by these ‘Agarthans’, and for so long. All to weaken the Church of Seiros and the common people… and Cornelia was among them.”
“That’s a different story from what I heard bandied about,” Claude accused. “When I put out feelers in the Kingdom, they said the Dukedom was behind everything, including Edelgard. Nothing about these ‘Oathseekers’ of yours.”
“No doubt their source was Orion,” Lelantos said, flicking his wrist. “Katáktisi was bound by surprisingly breakable chains to protect the Agarthans at all times, with the exception of the Peacemakers. Accusing them of everything was a convenient tool for stamping them out, nothing more.”
There was an uncomfortable energy that suddenly permeated the round table. “You mean Lord Conquest, right?”
“He does,” I said. “Katáktisi is the true name of the one you call ‘Lord Conquest’. And until approximately three days ago, I was its champion and its host. It was a Crestwraith, a sapient form of the Dragon Signs that are now being distributed throughout our army. Because of its nature as a piece of Agarthan technology, it is subject to certain Axioms that prevent it from standing against Agartha; because of my bond with it, I was under the control of the same Axioms. I had been working to the best of my ability to follow their orders in the way that helped them the least. Now, though, I don’t even need to do that. My bond with Katáktisi is severed, and I do not intend to ever protect the Oathseekers again.”
“So you were cooperating with Solon back in the academy,” Claude said.
“Unfortunately yes, Prince Claude.” That shut him up. I still had that leverage over him, but everyone already knew about my alter ego. Still, in the spirit of mutually assured construction, I didn’t actually intend to out him as Almyran royalty unless he tried something. “I didn’t have much, or any choice in the matter. I intend now to bring all Agartha’s crimes to light, including my own. I think only by confronting and seeking to understand our past can we ever hope to become stronger. To become better.”
“And that includes Duscur.” I could practically see a shadow fall over His Highness’ face, even though he hadn’t moved a muscle. “Cornelia, or Cleobulus I suppose, had said that you were aware of the truth of that day. I know you said Agartha was somehow involved, but… my stepmother. Patricia Anselma. Was she part of this as well?”
“Cornelia oversold my involvement,” I said, the words coming easier with every syllable. “Agartha had infiltrated the Western Church a long time ago, and they had a hand in destabilizing the Kingdom. But the western lords aren’t exactly innocent. They were chomping at the bit to annex Duscur, and they didn’t exactly like your father’s reforms. I was never aware of all the details. I think… you weren’t supposed to survive, though. I think Duke Rufus was supposed to be their puppet leader while Cleobulus ran things behind the scenes. But you surviving meant they could pit you against Edelgard. Thales played all of us for fools.”
“He has a tendency to do that,” Ulyssea chimed in. “I used to be a Peacemaker, so let me tell you— those Dukedom lords were so pathetic. They just sit around and do nothing. They’re like one of those old retro logos that bounce around; the frequency of their neurons firing perfectly matches that of the logo hitting the corner just right. But what they lacked in intelligence they made up for in spite and malice, so we have to give them credit for that. It took minimal prodding on our end to get them ready and raring to go slaughter the ‘royal’ line. As for Anselma, yeah. Cleobulus primed her pretty hard for that. Some of her better work, I guess, but it would have been so much less effort to just kill and replace her. I mean, honestly.”
Dimitri looked like he was very much considering the death penalty.
“Ulyssea, you cannot just say that,” Momus said, pinching the bridge of his nose. The task of corralling the Truthreapers had apparently fallen to him, and I could tell from the sheer exhaustion in his voice that he hated this role with every fiber of his being. “When on the surface, one must at least attempt to follow the ethics of the surface. We have to be better than the Peacemakers and the Oathseekers if we want to survive this war.”
“The moral high ground is only good as a vantage point to dive back into the mosh pit,” Steropes commented, flippant. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, though, but I think I have to agree with Momus. We would not want to upset any business relationships before they can flower into something worthwhile. Honestly, you have about as much decorum as Crius— which is to say, none at all.”
I mouthed an ‘I’m so sorry’ in Dimitri’s general direction. His hands were clenched so hard on the edge of the table that they were starting to dig into the wood.
Claude, at least, seemed relatively undissuaded by the Truthreapers Truthreapering. “As cathartic as it probably is to take shots at each other like this,” he said, “the point is that we’re all going to cooperate to take down these Oathseekers, right? I mean, we kind of have to.”
Wordlessly, the assembly nodded.
“Glad we’re on the same page. There’s still a lot we need to know about these ‘Agarthans’ and Fódlan’s history, and the Church isn’t exactly the most unbiased source of information—“
“Objectively correct—“
“But now isn’t the time or place for that. I’ll be trying to meet one-on-one in the future, so keep your eyes peeled for that.” Duke Riegan stood, his lustrous gold cape billowing at his abrupt motion. “I look forward to bringing Fódlan into a new age. Preferably as friends, not foes.”
A clever threat. He wouldn’t hesitate to throw us to the wayside if it meant ensuring his sovereignty. He was still a prince of Almyra, and the Immortal Corps had already infiltrated our forces. Whether Prince Khalid intended to make good on that promise remained to be seen.
~~~
Word did, unfortunately, get out regarding my return. The response from our army was… mixed, to say the least. Many of our veterans from pre-Gronder Field were quite amiable to the situation. I had proven myself a worthwhile and dependable ally, in addition to having masterminded many of our early tactics that prevented massive casualties on the field. For the most part, our generals from the academy had had a similar reaction. Not too long into my mandated medical leave, I had received an anonymous letter proclaiming, in shaky and uncertain penmanship, that they were ‘bappy’ that I had returned and that they were apologizing for any disagreements or judgements from when they first learned about my true nature. I felt fairly confident in my guess as to who that was supposed to be from, and I’d definitely rib him a little for that typo.
My reception wasn’t universal, though. Former members of the Faerghus Dukedom seemed leery of me, although not for the reasons I would have expected. Their problem with me wasn’t that I was ‘Lord Conquest’, but rather that I had aligned myself with King Dimitri, who they at least somewhat saw as a tyrannical dictator. Though they had been freed from the Peacemakers’ yoke and were therefore a bit more charitable to the crown than they had been before, the indoctrination of the Western Church ran deeper than I would have liked. The Alliance, by contrast, was all too aware of the Massacre of Myrddin and had no reservations in largely hating my guts. Of all the things to dislike me for, that one was definitely one of the most reasonable. While some like Claude had no ill will towards me and understood why I had done what I had done, many didn’t share that viewpoint. I could count myself among that number.
The Church of Seiros was… its own matter. Time and time again, I had taken actions that had actively subverted and outright rejected its authority. The Dragon Signs and other forms of advancement I had helped to push were existential threats to its structure. My alignment with the Truthreapers, once sworn enemies of the Church, wasn’t exactly great either. I had fought for Edelgard at Gronder Field. And to top it all off, Katáktisi had once been a predator of Nabateans, the very race the Church had been built to protect even if most people didn’t know that.
That was why I was rather nervous to be seated in Seteth’s tent. While it was nice that I didn’t have a distressing number of blades pointed at my throat— it was just him, me, and Flayn today— and the novelty of a lack of disembodied voice hollering for his head hadn’t worn off yet, I was still on edge. Seteth’s words at Gronder Field were on the forefront of my mind. The vitriol in his voice, the murderousness in his eyes… he had said this wasn’t over. And I didn’t expect anything less.
His quarters were austere, as one would expect from a temporary camp on the long road from Derdriu. We were currently heading back to Garreg Mach for a resupply and to recuperate before attempting to push south into Imperial territory. His actual office at the monastery was full of thick books that lined the two opposite walls, the bookcase stretching all the way to the ceiling. It was busy, but organized; as advisor to the archbishop, a lot of missives and documents had to cross his desk and get his signature.
“We spoke to Uncle Indech,” Flayn said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She hadn’t changed a bit since we had first met, either in appearance or mannerisms. “Before the Battle of Fhirdiad.”
“At Lake Teutates, I assume?”
“By that time, I had already learned the truth about you,” Seteth said, his cadence faltering for a moment. “I had hoped to warn him that the Crestwraiths had returned. That he should be prepared to flee for his life, if need be.”
“But instead, he tried to tell us about you,” Flayn laughed. “He said that somewhere out there was a treasure more valuable than his sacred bow— an unlikely ally who would fight alongside us, and who would lead us into the darkness that festers at Fódlan’s heart.”
Good old Indech. I felt a soft smile worm its way onto my face. “I hadn’t realized I’d made such a strong impression, considering all I really did was ask for directions. But if the Immovable One put in such a good word for me, then why…” Why threaten my life? Why portray me as a traitor after the fact?
Seteth’s piercing green eyes slid away. “I was… I have been trying to hate you, Link. It should be easy. Both you and your… patron have attempted and nearly succeeded at ending the life of my daughter. You have aided and abetted a group that threatens all of Fódlan, and you currently ally yourself with a faction that on the whole does not seem much better. I have tried this before, when you threatened to throw her off the Goddess Tower. But… you were protecting her then, weren’t you? From the thing within you that has tried to consume us before?”
My head shifted, a lock of hair falling in the way of my eye. I brushed it away, and failed because of how badly my hand was shaking. “I-in part. Everything I've told you about that day still rings true. That was before Remire, so I hadn’t learned what horrors Agartha was capable of. I admit I had distrust of the Nabateans at that time because of Katáktisi, but the choice to protect you, to care about you? That was all me.”
Seteth’s fingers interlaced. “I see.” He was contemplative for a moment. “I have found that I cannot hate you, Link Harkinian, not in the way that I hate your companion. Time and time again, you have protected us from even yourself. You let us flee at Gronder Field. You were always willing to lend a hand at the monastery. I did not assign you to protect Flayn on the field of battle for no reason. All of that good, I cast aside when I learned you were host of a Crestwraith.
“But… the day you left.” Saint Cichol took a deep breath. “You could have revealed the truth of our nature. You could have said to the Knights of Seiros that we were among the Four Saints. You could have dragged us into danger so easily. But even then, you called her my sister. You even conspired to remove Gilbert from our presence, who I have been told had been conspiring our downfall. And I cannot overlook that, no matter how hard I try.”
I paused for a moment. “I think you wrote a fable about this.”
He looked up sharply. “Really? I think I would remember if I had intentionally written about such a… collusion with the host of a Crestwraith.”
“I mean, I don’t think it was about this specifically, but…” I racked my mind, the neurons still recovering from the forcible extraction a couple days before. “It was in the one you lent me back when you first learned how terrible my circadian rhythm was. The one about the frog and the spider.”
Flayn’s hair bobbed excitedly. “Oh! I loved that one! It's about how people with very different skills and backgrounds can work together for the benefit of everyone. The spider protects the frog from other spiders and predatory insects, and the frog protects the spider and its young from threats that are too stealthy for the spider to deal with, like parasites. Even though from the outside you would expect them to be enemies!”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“So it was about this specifically!” I reiterated, my face hot and my voice giddy. “I’m suuuuuure it was unintentional, but the parallels are perfect! Oh, the dramatic irony!”
Seteth’s expression was lighter than it had been at the start of this confrontation, but there was still some grave seriousness in the air. “I… feel I have to clarify. While I cannot hate you, Link, I have no such lack of animosity towards the company you keep. If you are to be believed, it has not changed its opinion on Nabateans, and were it up to it, we would not be standing here. There may be times that it is difficult for me to look upon you, like the waxing and waning of the moon.”
“Then let me clarify something in turn,” I replied calmly, all the mirth of my last outburst spent. I removed Katáktisi’s mask from its place in my pouch and set it gently on Seteth’s desk. It sat there innocently. Neither Nabatean made any move to pick it up. “Just a couple of days ago, I renounced our bond. It will never again whisper in my mind. It will never take another host. Hopefully I will never have to put it on again.”
“I—“
I put up a hand, cutting Seteth off. “I know this doesn’t make up for what it’s done. What I’ve done as its champion. But I want to have a clean slate between us. I’m done with the secrets and the lies.”
Seteth was quiet for a long while. Then he stood, and closed the distance. His hand was outstretched in one fluid motion. “I remember your application to the Officer’s Academy,” he said, a strange twinkle in his eye. “And while my previous assessment stands, I daresay you have further expanded your knowledge of Fódlan and the Church. And it has been a number of years…”
I froze, Seteth’s hand hanging awkwardly in midair. He was offering for me to join the Officer’s Academy after the war? I had been so consumed by now that ‘after’ felt alien, just like in Termina. “That… does sound… nice,” I admitted after some hesitation, “but I don’t know if I can–”
“Both of us know that you do not lack the ability,” Seteth observed. “This is a question of whether or not you are capable of making a commitment.”
The words struck as surely as any blade, and I reeled from the force. Really, the attack was closer to something from the Megaton Hammer. “If you’re insinuating that I have commitment issues–”
“Was it not you who once compared forming close bonds with other people to putting one’s hand on a hot stove? In that you had already been burned once and did not want to risk being burned again?” Flayn commented, smirking.
I was stunned into silence. “I did… I did say that, didn’t I?” I eventually managed. “But what about… everything?”
“There will no doubt be much reconstruction in the years that follow. But the Officer’s Academy will be needed more than ever, to ensure that Fódlan’s best and brightest are ready to face the challenges that reconstruction will bring. If there is anyone better fit for the task than you, I have yet to make their acquaintance.”
“I…” Suddenly everything was hot and burning, which one would think to be related to each other. That would be wrong, though. These two sensations were completely disconnected from one another. “I don’t know what to say, except… that I’ll take you up on your offer, Seteth. When all of this is over.”
I took his hand in my own, and pulled. The Hammer of Judgement stayed planted where he was, but I was thrown forwards, my other arm already wrapping around his back. An understanding was between us, at long last. “Th-thank you,” I said, the words raw and uneven. Why was I crying? And why didn’t I want to stop?
Funny, that this is chapter LIV and that it’s the chapter that Link is finally able to LIV completely on his own.
Review please!
:) (AO3): Glad I’m doing them justice. Or I guess injustice, since not many of them are actually just. I’m going to be perfectly honest, I want to throttle half of them, which I guess means I’m doing something right.
Parkourse (AO3): Have another!