Chapter Text
Summer 646
Months had passed since the end of Mad King’s War, and relative peace had settled upon Tellius. But the peace they had fought so hard for had left them almost jobless. With all efforts put in rebuilding what Daein had destroyed and their newfound courtly duties, there were few reasons to leave Melior.
Thus, in the beginning of the fledging queen’s reign, the Greil Mercenaries became Crimea’s crutch and pride. However, tired of the pomp and splendour of the royal capital, they longed to return to their roots as a mere countryside mercenary company, and jumped at the scarce opportunities to leave. Some wished to further bridge the gap between Beorc and Laguz, some wanted to avoid noble obligations; regardless, this return to their old way of life was as temporary as it was welcome. And thus, the Greil Mercenaries travelled across the kingdom to fulfil various missions in the queen’s name, dealing with reconstruction and bandits alike. While there was peace, war had left its fair share of scars in the Crimean countryside. And since no place was spared, their presence was required far and wide. For the first time in months, the mercenaries were forced to split forces…
The last time they did, Greil was still alive. But mercenary life called for many meetings and partings and, no matter how bittersweet the latter may be, mercenaries couldn’t afford to dwell in the past. Even the youngest in the company had outgrown such childish illusions long ago. Had they already surpassed the late commander’s expectations…?
Ike walked in his father’s footsteps with an unbroken spirit, free of prejudice and malice. He alone was able to challenge Ashnard with the unconditional support of Beorc and Laguz. Yet, the best of their parents lived on in Mist, who fulfilled the promise they had made to a lost heron princess. Not to be outdone, the brothers had proven to be as reliable as Oscar. Rolf’s courage, Boyd’s loyalty: both supported the company in the direst of times. In the wake of challenges and tragedies, even Rhys conquered his fears, Shinon and Gatrie couldn’t forsake their family, and, his studies cut short, Soren still stepped up to the role he was always meant to fulfil at Ike’s side. A year on the run, a year at the Liberation army’s vanguard, a year of fighting the Daein devils and the demons within…
Because of everything they had overcome together, splitting up was harder than ever before. But they did, because things would never go back to the way they were before. Life went on. It was nothing they couldn’t handle.
Ike, Titania, and Soren gathered to sort out teams accounting for balance and compatibility on their missions across Crimea. Frontliners with weapon coverage, one ranged attacker as back-up, a healer, and enough experience (or common sense) spread among the members of each group were the goal, and they eventually settled on three teams for the missions that didn’t warrant the full might of the Greil Mercenaries.
First was Ike’s team, with Boyd as partner, Rolf as back-up, and Mist as a flexible healer. The younger two had good heads on their shoulders, and even the hot-blooded Boyd wasn’t as reckless as he once had been. Despite their relative youth, the siblings group was remarkably well-rounded, and particularly well-suited to de-escalate tensions with the Laguz.
Second was Titania’s team, with Oscar as partner, Shinon as back-up, and Rhys as a healer with the odd spell. That group most accommodated Shinon’s temper, who in turn was wary on everyone’s behalf. They made quite an experienced team who focused on reconstruction efforts and bandit control, easily uplifting morale everywhere they went.
Lastly was Soren’s team, with Gatrie and Mia. The two of them had diverse mercenary experience and covered for each other’s weakness on the frontline, excelling in defence or evasion – and to be on the cautious side, Soren strictly supported them from the back while honing his staff skills on the odd escort mission. Plus, he could rein in their impulses to flirt or duel anything that moved on their own. They had enough sense to listen to their strategist, whose skills were sometimes borrowed by nobles in need of an expert accountant to budget the reconstruction effort in exchange for rare tomes to further his studies and free reign in their libraries.
It was a strange routine indeed compared to long marches and sea voyages. But peace is an endless battle, and so the Greil Mercenaries had no choice but to play their part at Crimea’s court, using the opportunity to spread their name far and wide so they could never be forgotten as Soren once feared before a distraught princess Elincia.
Using these missions to drop by the old mercenary fort, they slowly rebuilt it in turns over spring and summer, sometimes shuffling members from team to team, until eventually they could spend the night in the comfort of their true home before they inevitably had to make their way back to Melior…
_____
It was just another escort mission. A convoy of supplies on a forest road at night. Low branches rustled in a cool breeze carrying the sound of the horses’ tranquil amble on a path oft travelled. The neighbouring town had lost their mill to strong winds, and so they needed the materials by morning. At the people’s request, the mercenaries offered their services in the queen’s name. A small detour on a clear summer night.
Perhaps they had grown a little complacent. Maybe the extended peace had dulled their senses. In the end, the team wasn’t as alert as it should have been, and when they heard a crack in the bushes, it was too late. Fighting ensued.
Wisely, the merchants gathered around their goods and behind Gatrie’s protection. Meanwhile, to avoid setting fire to the forest or to the supplies, Soren steered clear of fire magic and flipped through the pages of an Elwind tome to give his companions some breathing room. Unfortunately, their vision was hindered by the caravan and trees, with few torches lighting up the way forward. No choice but to hold their ground…
Soren hurried to the rear of the convoy to take out any bandit trying to sneak up on them, tome at the ready. The ancient words rolled off his tongue with practiced ease, conjuring blades of wind to shield him from the menace looming in the dark. Wary, the mage squinted, and as he pondered the utility of a flash of lightning…
A cry suddenly rang out behind him. He froze mid-step. The spirits screeched and scattered at the unfinished spell, but he quickly recovered, casting a weaker Wind at a silhouette he spotted behind the trees.
The shadow fell with a similar cry as blood slowly pooled from behind him at his feet. At last, the mage chanced a look back at a familiar figure.
“Soren! Always lost in your books!” Mia remarked with a tease and, without breaking a sweat, pushed away the axe of the bandit she had slain with her foot. “I’ll watch your back if you won’t!”
Light and shadow danced across their faces at the back of the convoy. Soren took a beat to compose himself. “I leave it to you,” he simply nodded, and let her take the vanguard.
Even the most pessimistic of sceptics had to acknowledge that, when actions spoke louder than words… the Greil Mercenaries who had restored the exiled princess Elincia to her throne made reliable allies. His loyalty was forever to Ike, but… After all was said and done, he did trust them with his life on the battlefield, didn’t he? And in the heat of the moment, Mia swiftly rescued him and moved on – just a quick exchange and reassurance in the middle of an unnoteworthy fight. Just another missed rendezvous with death for tried mercenaries who had overcome Mad King Ashnard’s army. They dealt with the rest of the bandits easily.
Never would have Soren thought such a dull incident would follow him to the grave.
Back in Melior, Ike’s eyebrows shot up when he read his tactician’s report.
“A bandit caught you off-guard?” Astonished, he repeated Soren’s words back to him, and fell back in his chair, in the private office of his suite. Most nobles would call it bare, if not indigent; but then again, most nobles weren’t welcome into his private quarters.
Soren casually stood at his side, unbothered. Only he could get way with this. Did he know it?
“Visibility was low. I’ll make sure to pack a torch in the future,” his friend acknowledged with a nod, and a mental note to restock.
“And Mia got your back in a pinch,” Ike hummed approvingly. While this renewed his trust in his mercenaries, he also thought of a few drills to keep their senses sharp… Ah! Praise and more training – he really was turning out just like his father…
At his side, Soren put a thoughtful finger under his chin. “She has fit seamlessly among our group,” was the tactician’s taciturn praise.
“You too,” Ike remarked with that uncanny honesty of his. It was not so long ago that Soren first sortied under his amateur command and offered him words of praise that meant more to him than the mage would ever know… Unfortunately, Soren never spared himself some of that mercy.
“I’ve been there longer than most,” Soren replied matter-of-factly – then, with a little cheek, “and I’m not going anywhere,” he added, to Ike’s delight. The promise he had made to stay by his side at the end of the war filled the silence with purpose.
With that incident dealt with, Ike absent-mindedly flipped through the pages of the report where nothing else stood out. They had done good work as usual. Relaxed, Soren’s gaze followed his fingers across the parchment filled with his neat numbers and cursive.
It was the mage who spoke up first. “The commander did take everyone under his wing, didn’t he?”
Mia wasn’t even the worst hire the late commander had made. Aside from her, Soren reminisced on the time Rhys joined. Although he had argued against adding a sickly priest to their impoverished group, who often travelled far and wide to make ends meet, Greil had brushed him off with a hearty laugh. Since he had saved Titania’s life, he was as good as family already. And besides, half of the Greil Mercenaries consisted of children and non-combatants – him included. It was hard to find a witty comeback afterwards.
That bunch of mouths to feed once included Ike, too. And he must have thought of the same thing, because his expression softened into an air of fondness and melancholy.
“He never turned down people in need,” he agreed.
Soren’s lips curled into a tiny smile.
Like father, like son, isn’t it?
_____
“Still lost in your books?”
“Mia,” Soren acknowledged her presence with a quick peek out of his tome. The Greil Mercenaries were back to wasting away in the palace. At least there was some peace and quiet to read in the gardens. Relatively speaking. “I don’t suppose you have any business with me.”
“And snappy as always!” she replied cheerfully. “I’m looking for Ike, so I thought to ask you first.”
Soren couldn’t help but grin. “Looking for a spar, I suppose?”
“Unless he’s busy with another meeting.”
“Not for the Greil Mercenaries. You’ll find him that way,” he pointed at stairs leading to a secluded courtyard people avoided because he stood in the way. “Don’t tell the nobles and courtiers, or you’ll need more than Rhys’s staff to patch you up.”
“Thanks for the heads-up!” she stood at attention before sprinting away. “See you, Soren!” she shouted, her voice already distant.
The wind sage let out a sigh and restarted his paragraph from the beginning.