#look zofian oranges!

[hycanitho]

A faint familiarity greets the ladyknight as she alights upon Fódlan’s soil. How many moons had it been since she last laid her eyes upon the green lawns of the Officers Academy or the stone towers of Garreg Mach? Staring wistfully up at passing clouds, she already finds it difficult to recall the faces of her peers, those she had once called ‘friends.’ Would they remember her face, she wonders — once her face is seen upon campus once again, would she hear her name called through the crowd?

The sound of a heavy thud pulls her from this reverie; Clair turns to find herself surrounded by fortress trunks and chests and a veritable company of exhausted servants. Her fleeting sentimentality is immediately forgotten as she busies herself with ensuring that her belongings had survived the sea voyage. 

“Has everything been removed from the ship, then?” The amount of wood laid out before her would have been enough to construct a cozy cottage in the Zofian countryside, but Clair cannot help but feel the gnawing idea that she may have forgotten everything. Oh, she doesn’t know what she’ll do if she had left her favorite satin gown or Tuesday’s riding boots back at the Beauchêne autumn estate…

“Do mind your step carrying the chests with my tea set. I took it from mother’s summer collection and wish to return it to her when I visit… if she finds a even a single chip in the china I do not believe I will live to see the orange trees bloom next…”

Clair suppresses a shudder at the thought of her mother’s wrath. There had only ever been two incidents where she had ever seen her mother truly angry: once when she was fourteen, when she had run away from the Beauchêne summer estate on a quest on join the knighthood and once again not too long ago, when her parents had discovered that the Officers Academy, in fact, did not have a winter break period — and that this imaginary winter break period should not have lasted for months on end. Clair does not think she has ever packed her trunks faster — and there must be at least thirty seven of them here with her.

Ladyknight looks to the horizon. She had thought was would have felt the sickening pangs of homesickness already, but she finds her heart alight with a faint candle flame of excitement instead. A grudging smile fights its way onto Clair’s face.

Sunlight in her every step, she prances off to find her dormitory. Oh, how warm it feels to return.

[randomnameless]

FE4 run - the unofficial 3rd Gen

Procrastination at its finest here - what would happen in this run of FE4 after several years?

warning, as always, this is not serious

Queen Larcei and King Seliph of Granvalle are actually pissed at the reconstruction and their own Kingdom - why should they start trading with Agustria first and help them more than help Isaach?

The “nobles” can’t tell them that they’re “barbarians” since Larcei is obviously Isaachian so they use the “it’s too far to send help there, we must secure the Yied Desert first if we want to cross and provide them with goods etc...” card.

But then Larcei tells them that Verdane is closer, and yet Granvalle isn’t helping her brother with his rebel-taming duties. Hell, if she could, she would go there to help him get rid of the bandits. But she can’t because she is Granvalle’s Queen.

Seliph understands that providing help to Verdane will bring less benefits to Granvalle than helping Agustria - who still has a functioning economy, and, besides, as the son of Sigurd, he feels indebted to the people of Agustria (he might have read a letter his cousin’s wife gave him).

So while he is a bit furious but powerless about helping in Isaach’s reconstruction, he continues with the general trend of his forefathers and doesn’t give a fig about Verdane.

Things are difficult in mainland Granvalle for Tine, because everyone and their cats hate Freege, and demand outrageous fees for Reparations about what the Freeges did during the War - when i say everyone and their cats it’s mainly the New Kingdom of Thracia and the Miletos guilds.

Tine and Nanna will never be friendly towards each other until their deaths.

She doesn’t care about Miletos though. Hopefully Seliph puts in place a new policy about “sharing the costs” so every Duchy has to participate. Ultimately, Seliph suspends the payment when he and his cousin have a heart-to-heart talk around the famous bottle of wine because Leif knows now that bleeding dry a country or a duchy isn’t the way to build a lasting peace between nations.

Tine also has problems in her personal life, because he husband is in Jungby and if they manage to get an Ulir Crusader, soon enough they will need a Tordo one but hey, there’s no one left with Tordo blood and there’s a duty not to let bloodlines extinguish (that’s the last thing Seliph heard from F!Lewyn).

Speaking of Jungby, as expected, Faval is the golden puppet Duke whereas Lester - who managed to convince his mom to come home - rules the house. They try to repair some of Faval’s early decisions like opening the castle to accomodate all orphans in the Duchy and giving a quarter of their treasury to the Conote orphanage he used to live in. Faval loves his wife, of course, but she has a duty to recreate a new Tordo line, just like he had to take his Holy Weapon and fight in the last Holy War. So he isn’t sad.

A bit pissed, but not sad.

Johalva was acclaimed as both as a hero and as a kinslayer by the randoms of Dozel. Lana was really pissed about this, but Johalva didn’t deny the various accusations but still add that he had to do those things to protect the civilians, the innocents etc and Julius was really mad, didn’t you see the big monster disappearing in the sky during the end of the war?

He finally managed to be acclaimed as a good Duke after head-butting with some of his fellow Dukes who called him a “disgrace” and managed to make Seliph reconsider his idea of taxing Dozel more than the other Duchies (Chalphy, Jungby and Edda) in the war reparations efforts.

He and Lana also made graves for Johan and Brian, but none were made for Danan.

Lana’s a bit worried about Neir blood disappearing, but given one or two generations cousins could marry and a Crusader could be born again.

Oifey trains Seliph’s son in the ways of chivalry like he did with Seliph when he was younger, he hopes that Seliph’s son will inherit the Chalphy duchy, because he doesn’t feel like he belongs here, in the halls and the throne that were supposed to be Lord Sigurd’s and Lord Byron’s.

Arthur’s dream never comes to fruition, and despite his best efforts, he cannot manage to make the world see Velthomer as anything else but a nest of vipers and other less than savoury people. Fee is the only reason why he didn’t pack his things and run away to Silesse after ten years of rule.

Cherry on top, despite being Azelle’s son, Arthur is also known for having been the one to have killed everyone in his maternal family, so the randoms think they get the short end of the stick - he even killed Lord Ishtore who participated in the child rescues with his sister!

Hopefully with a certain priest’s help, he still managed to rebuild the Duchy so they’re not in the Verdane tier of development anymore. After Arthur’s death, the randoms in Velthomer will say that he wasn’t so bad as a Duke.

Speaking of the savages, Ulster makes his base in Evans because it’s closer to Granvalle and to the royal forces he petitions to help against the barbarians.

When Julia finally joins her husband after being fed up with flower pot duties, she moves the new capital to Genoa. “Verdane” is too remote from everywhere, and in Genoa, they’re both close to Granvalle and to Miletos. Why Miletos? The closer they are to them, the harder it is for them to ignore Verdane, so they will have to listen and maybe obey when they petition for help or to stop putting stupid tariffs on their exports.

Why should they listen? Because Julia is Seliph’s sister and he cares a lot about her well-being.

Ultimately Ulster becomes King of Verdane, but Julia remains a Princess of Granvalle. Their son is the Prince of Persia Verdane and also a Prince of Granvalle. Hopefullu, the kid has major naga blood (even if ulster was overjoyed when the kid managed to “learn” Astra because those rumours about Julia and Seliph are still bothering him, just like they bother his sister) and even if he likes Verdane a lot, some people start to tell him that he has every right to sit in Belhalla and live with the civilised people.

He tells them to fig off.

In Agustria however, there are several rebellions brewing, even after Ares became King. Some former Princes/Kings call him an imposter, other call him too subservient towards Granvalle.

Strangely, though, Lene managed to usher a new era of show and other performing arts - to the point that the New Kingdom became reknown for its great arts. The children puppet shows about the Great King Ares vanquishing the Demon of Granvalle are always full. Through those shows, Agustrians manage to live in a collective fantasy of how they participated in ending the war and fought against Loptyr.

Shagall was the Shield that tried to protect Agustria from the Loptyrians during the first Gen and Eldingan was the Sword who defeated them, but through a deception the Loptyrians had Eldingan killed, so he passed the role of the Sword to his son Ares - everyone was happy, even the old Shagall partisans who, at first, didn’t want Ares or Eldie’s line to usurp the previous line of the Kings of Agustria and reminded Ares of Eldie and House Nodion’s vows.

Sadly enough, Lene wanted to make the lives of the performers and other orphans better with the economic profits earnt by those shoes, but it disappeared in the pockets of the people who were organising said shows. 

Delmud was busy ruling the rest of the country, and exchanging letters with his sister and King Seliph, as the cordial man he has always been.

In Thracia’s New Kingdom we had Leif and Nanna happily creating a new dynasty - and Altenna’s forever alone.

Arion disappeared, and everyone thought that the line of Dain perished with him. However, one of Leif’s former cleric friends told him that there is a child living in (again) an orphanage in Tahra who is Lord Arion’s kid, but for his own sake, it’s better to live as an ignorant peasant than as a prince who lost his kingdom, wouldn’t he agree?

Due to Altenna’s dedication, and Hannibal’s popularity, the Thracians weren’t that crushed when the unification happened, and even if the northeners still have a better lifestyle then their southerners brothers, at the end of Leif’s reign, both people start to have to same lifestyles as in, there are brigands and piss poor people on both sides of the peninsula, but also, rich merchants and assholes in the South too.

Leif is aware that when he asked money to Seliph he acted a bit selfishly, but his Kingdom passes first. They still managed to remain great friends, and Leif’s son married Seliph’s daughter.

In Silesse, Ced manages to get a major blooded baby on someone but realises that he was never cut out to be a King, given how the country governed itself without him during all those years. 

However, he didn’t bail out like his Father, and started to make several researches about dragons, and the mytical land of Archanea - prompted by Loptyr’s sight at the end of the war, and also, because of F!Lewyn.

He volunteered on the first expedition (passing through the northern seas of Silesse) but realised that his place was in Silesse, to study more and, maybe, start to develop trading routes to the new land. It’s only during the last years of his life that he managed to see a returning ship - after several years, sailors finally managed to land somewhere ; they brought him special endemic fruits found in that new land : Zofian Oranges.

The Isaachian people were happy when Shanan returned, because they heard disturbing rumours about their King misbehaving in Thracia and thought that if those rumours started, that meant that he was dead and some man tried to usurp his good name.

They were relieved when they saw him again.

Since the Isaachians had been freed early, they manage to reinstall some sort of government in Isaach (the capital) and everyone from the other kingdoms pledged their allegiance to Shanan - granted, they couldn’t find the former nobles of Sophara, so it was just some elders who participated in the ceremony.

Shanan was a bit disappointed that Granvalle didn’t send as much help as they expected, but thought that maybe Seliph was busy managing internal affairs.

Sadly for him, Patty gave birth to 3 children who all had the brand of Odo on their backs.

He decided that the eldest would remain in Isaac, one would go to Sophara and the last to Ganeishire. 

But the one who was in Sophara wanted to inherit Isaach’s throne, given how he was a boy while the eldest was a woman, and trouble ensued.

More trouble ensued when Seliph’s son didn’t want to return to Chalphy and remain in Belhalla, and when Julia’s granddaughter has had enough of Verdane and managed to steal the Book of Naga, wanting to return to Belhalla.

France Agustria declared itself the Holy land and elected a pope, who took residence in Orgahill and who managed to hear the voices whispers of the gods. Soon enough, being the eldest brother of the Pope, Ares’ son, when he became King, declared the Thracians heretics, for they were developing and practicing dark magic.

Miletos tried to rob everyone using the various tensions as catalysts, but, in the end, they were unable to do a thing when Ares’ second daughter managed to survive a shipwreck when Leif’s only son didn’t. Thracia accused Miletos of having staged an accident to get rid of their heir - Leif’s daughter managed to find (or forge, depends on the POV) a letter detailing how Agustria paid the corrupt Miletosians to sabotage her brother’s lifeboat.

Hopefully Seliph died a few years before the start of the Third War, so he never knew how much the next generation managed to screw what he and friends fought for.

the end

[sireneia]

celica’s gaiden outfit is very much a 90′s anime look, so i felt it only fair to try and make any other outfits for her in the same vibe! the dress here is meant to be an homage to momoko’s dress in wedding peach as a result, tying in some fe flairs as well as some celica-based things and even putting in orange blossom flowers to tie to valentia’s worldbuilding in sov!

though celica has always kept in mind her royal bearing and has had it influence her life greatly, i want to say that she never intended to rise up to her rightful throne considering how she gets incredibly upset when alm proclaims that he’s going to find the rumored zofian princess and reinstate her to the zofian throne. she obviously wants to hide her identity, but she made sure to go to the lengths of claiming that the princess didn’t exist anymore. as such, she likely never expected herself to have a royal wedding, but once she does accept her responsibility by donning her mother’s crown, she knows that one day she will have to get married and produce an heir/ess for her bloodline.

it is equal parts a responsibility for her as it is a wish, her feelings for alm running deep. how she cares for him runs at odds with her better sense of judgment at times, and so marriage pitting her mind and her heart into it makes it a bit of a... hectic topic for her to think about consequently, but not one that she necessarily fears. even if she couldn’t wed the one who has taken her heart, she would still accept what marriage would do for her country, understanding it as part of her duty to her people and zofia’s monarchy system.

[caraidean]

Slow Turn [Rigelian Raised AU]

Participant(s): Clair, Albein Rudolf II ( @jasperlion​)

Words: 4,908

Type: Base conversation / C Support

Summary: Confronted with the reality of her situation and her nation’s politics, the still-captive Clair starts to sell out Zofia in an attempt to save lives. However, she still comes to verbal blows with her captor, and her situation continues to be precarious. 

At least they’d gotten her a change of clothes. Admittedly it wasn’t the dresses she was used to, but…it wasn’t awful, she would concede that. She didn’t feel like a piece of meat being put on sale anymore at least.

But ye gods, would it kill them to trim down on the furs a little? She’d abandoned the shawl part halfway through the first day and just put up with the glares she’d received from those who thought she was being dismissive. She wasn’t trying to be insulting, she was damn well overheating.

“…”

But handing over some new clothes, taking care of the servants sent with her, and giving them actual sleeping quarters - she’d been afraid it would be some cramped room for all of them, but no, to her surprise, individual rooms - wouldn’t quite get Clair to cooperate with the Rigelians so far. More than absolutely necessary, anyway. For the time being she was satisfied just living out the house arrest that she was essentially in while waiting for the Prince to return, occasionally having to fight down the urge to try and escape.

She might make it. Truly, she might. But not if she wanted to take everyone else with her as well. So she ended up staying, and hoping that her brother or the rest of Zofia wouldn’t do anything reckless to try and save her.

When she went down for breakfast that morning she should have been more surprised to see Albein waiting for her at the table than she was. But a week’s worth of waiting was enough to make her jaded enough to expect that each day aws just some new kind of torture until he’d had his fun and decided to put her out of her misery.

Then again, there was another seat left at the table. She gathered teal skirts in her hand, still not used to the sheer bulkiness of it all (or the corset - seriously, and they called Zofian fashion depraved? At least she could breathe when showing off that much skin) as she sat down across from him as elegantly as she could muster.

“So.” She said as casually as she could while she reached for fruit, cold eyes staring into his defiantly. “Is this my last meal before an execution, then? Or has the Emperor oh so graciously decided to allow me to live?”

She made a slight face as she considered the even worse third option. “Just tell me we aren’t actually expected to be wed after all. I really would rather be…what was that turn of phrase you used when we met? Ah, yes. Strung up by my innards. Delightful.”

-w-w-w-

He curses his cousin under his breath as he prepares himself for the day, mutters about how unfair it is that his Father declared it so once he’s dressed and ready, and grumbles to himself on his way to a very specific dining hall. Getting up early enough in the morn for this was no hard task, he was usually up even earlier to practice his drills, but to have to wake up and preen himself for a Zofian noblewoman?

… A noblewoman proven innocent, mind, so he had to pay respects and be the one to deliver the news; at least, it was what his Father had ruled in private with them. On the upside, he would not have to deal with the diplomatic spectrum outside these halls. On the downside…

Ugh, he’d much rather have his meal in the barracks mess hall and just get back to his training.

If anything, at least he let himself oversleep (training before coming would just mean he’d need more time to clean up), having heard of the woman’s regular habits by now and when she’d likely arrive to eat. So, of course, he arrives early and prepares himself, like any good combatant would, and waited.

And waited.

… When exactly did she normally come by, again?

The sound of footsteps, for the nth time, has him straightening his back from his slouch and clasping his hands together politely at his lap, and now it’s finally not a false alarm as the door opens to find that girl, Claire, on the other side. She… doesn’t look too pleased. Good, neither was he. (The clothes they had sent looked a little odd on that girl…)

It’s funny, most nobility he had dealt with from either side of the Sluice Gate was fond of preamble, and yet Clair never quite bothered with it, heading right to the punch and likely right into getting her neck under an axe. So of course he barks a laugh at her words of defiance, and her implications that she’d rather die than marry him. A good and hearty laugh, reaching for a fruit himself now that he can actually eat instead of waiting for the woman. “Straight to the point and pulling no punches, I like that.” He says, wondering what his reaction would have been had she said that to him the day she arrived.

“Word’s been sent to your house as per the misunderstanding and… plot, but while you and yours are cleared from any willful wrongdoing… you shan’t leave just yet.” Deciding to honor her frontal nature, Albein too gets right to the heart of the matter. “Not until the matter is settled with the Zofian crown— if they had planned to have you die here, would you not say it is quite likely to have you eliminated before you return?”

A pause, and he then continues. “It would put us in quite the position, yes?” It wasn’t about her safety as a person that they were concerned for, after all, and he hoped he had been quite clear. Taking a bite from the fruit in hand, he waits until he swallows before he continues. “Though this whole situation might just be what ignites a war, even if no one died in this… particular incident.”

-w-w-w-

“Yes, clearly. Pulling punches isn’t in your style.” Clair said as evenly as she could, feeling her jaw twinge a little in memory. Still, at least she managed to avoid showing any signs of her physical discomfort at the reminder. Her bravado and bluster was all well and good, but she still wouldn’t want to be beaten again. Skilled as she may be, the Prince was stronger. And without her pegasus here to level the playing field, she wasn’t under any illusions as to how a fight between them would play out.

She allowed her shoulders to sink in relief slightly when she heard that at least her and her companions weren’t found to have done anything wrong, even if they weren’t allowed to leave. That sent a small chill down her spine as she hesitantly bit into her own fruit, glaring daggers at him with a low growl building in her throat. No, no, she shouldn’t rise to his barbs. Besides, he was right, they likely would have died shortly after crossing the border once more if that was their intention.

“If this does ignite the war, at least try to keep in mind that not all of Zofia backed the actions that led to your treatment.” The idea of suggesting that her family and their sympathizers might be convinced to stay out of any conflict or indeed ally with the Rigelian forces made the food taste like ashes in her mouth, but it was better than the alternatives. “Your conceptions of us are based on the abhorrent behavior of our ruling class, not even the entire span of the Nobility.”

She could tell that this line of conversation would be pointless for today, although she could also predict that she’d be having this argument with him time and time again until she was released or finally executed. Speaking of… “So, then, what of me and mine? Are we to be kept in some gilded cage for your amusement after all?”

She paused in horror as one other alternative crossed her mind. Speaking of allying those portions of Zofia…

“Goddess protect me, I was joking about the marriage. If your father thinks anything like that shall happen I assure you I will castrate you in our wedding bed.”

-w-w-w-

Heh, pulling punches not being his style? At least she caught on quick, and it draws an amused huff from the prince. Yet even as he looks forward for even more entertainment, what comes next is quite the opposite.

Clair relief is transparent, but it does not procure amusement from him, simply a twinge of… is it pity? Strong as the woman was, she had truly been worried for the fate of her own, which was something he could at the very least call admirable. He thoughtfully eats the orange after peeling it (quite the popular fruit despite its Zofian origin, apparently), listening to her with calculating eyes.

Conceptions, conceptions… is it not the ruling class that set the example? Even so, he quiets his hackles, instead… delegating himself to observing. … And he can’t help but once more laugh at loud as her expression turns to horror, and she explicitly states her intent to maim him right on the table during mealtime. Hah, when they said Zofians were bold…

“If my hand were that easy to offer, perhaps your fears would have merit. But, as you say… it seems you judge my father by the actions of your ruling class. If I recall… that Lima dog asked for the hand of a lesser noble on our eastern border in return for some emergency supplies some years before my own birth.” And there is no effort to hide the sheer disdain and disrespect he feels for that man in particular, expression turning haughty for a brief moment. Well, at least he had finished the fruit already, lest that bile building in his throat make him lose his apetite.

When were the kitchen hands going to bring the actual food? Gods. He signaled for the one at the door, who scampered away soon after.

“If my marriage were made for political gain, it would stand to be more sensible to marry me off to one of Lima IV’s numerous spawn before your family would even be considered, well known as your brother may be. Your fears are, frankly, misplaced.” With that, he waves the topic off, sighing in relief as they’re finally served a proper course; eggs, dried cod, sausages, some loaves and even more fruit along with some drinks. Eh, worked for him.

“Yourself and yours will be given more permissions among the castle walls, and provided you remain here, all will be well.” Pausing for effect, he continues with a lowered tone of voice, threat clear as day. “However, if you were to leave before matters are settled, well… it would be quite incriminating. Not to mention what awaits you on the other side of the border.”

He waits until his words settle before speaking again. “Is it to your liking?”

-w-w-w-

“I think the last few weeks would have made it clear I am no longer fond of my own ruling class. But considering yours imprisoned me before threatening to murder us for situations beyond our control, I believe it’s fair to say that neither side is exactly ideal in my eyes at the moment.” She said stiffly, although she let her shoulders sag a little in relief when it turned out they weren’t to be wed. Attractive or not, it would likely end with one of them dead in their wedding bed given how their last few conversations had gone.

“What I hear of King Lima’s children is positive, to my surprise.” She narrowed her eyes a little at his brazen insult. She had never met any of them, but the rumors and words of her brother and future sister-in-law made them out to be good kids by comparison to their father. “Perhaps people learn from the mistakes of their parents in Zofia instead of taking inspiration from it.”

She let the thinly veiled insult sit as she reached over, spearing a sausage on one fork and twirling it between her fingers as she glared. What were the odds of him trying to strike her again? To sate her own paranoia she kept her right hand hovering near the knives, pausing to take a bite from the cylinder of meat and blinking in surprise.

“It’s not bad.” She admitted, grudgingly. She rolled her eyes as she finished the sausage, dabbing at her mouth with a cloth as she sighed. “Oh, very well. Myself and mine will stay here in this gilded cage you’ve left for us.”

She smiled, thinly. “Am I to expect that you will be remaining here as well, then? It certainly is an ideal location to plan out what is almost certainly your inevitable offensive against my nation. Or shall I have the joy of meeting our new gaoler sooner than expected?”

-w-w-w-

While Albein’s eyes narrow a little at her clear distaste in himself and his ilk, he instead proceeds to eat as she speaks, making sure to keep his eyes on her at all times. However, it is her jab at his father that stops him midchew and, swallowing whatever he had managed to already mince that was in his mouth, he very carefully and deliberately set his utensils down.

Of course he listens to the rest, of course he mulls over his words before he speaks, but he is no longer relaxed nor laughing or smiling, his expression has turned rather cold.

“If my father’s mistake was not executing you and yours on very fair grounds of numerous insults upon our traditions and treaties, then perhaps I should learn from it.” He all but hisses, threat looming heavily over the atmosphere now. It was only out of Emperor Rudolf’s grace that she wasn’t dead, and she deigns it fine to insult the man?

He wants to just stand and leave— yet to let food go to waste was something he simply could not stand for, and would not, so he forces himself to remain where he sat, despite wishing to demonstrate. He takes a breath, then exhales— if this is what it takes to get to him, then his patience indeed does have an awfully short wick.

“I was asking if the accommodations and arrangements were to your liking, but I suppose the food comes with that.” He finally speaks after a pause drawn out, not to further intimidate the damnable woman, but to simply quell his temper. “As for me…” There is another pause, and he briefly considers what he’s about to say. “… I am a general before I am a prince, and so if my unit marches, I march. That is to say… I do not know if arrangements will change, nor when.” It was, after all, a precarious time and negotiations were ongoing. If the woman was blind to just how big a scandal this whole thing had brought and how they had all been placed on high alert, perhaps this would give her more awareness on the matter.

“It is heavily dependent upon the response of your king. The Earth Mother’s fortune may not be on your side for long.” With that, he continues to eat his meal in silence, mood already foul and dropping by the minute. Yes, it was quite the good thing arrangements were not being done for them to marry — he’d sooner throw the woman to the mountains to survive on her own.

-w-w-w-

“We both know that King Lima is likely to respond poorly.” Clair muttered acidly, stabbing viciously at another sausage to try and calm herself. While Albein certainly found ways to raise her temper, she was finding herself growing angrier and angrier at her…former?…ruler with each passing day. She dabbed at her cheeks with a napkin, scowling down at her own reflection in her plate before letting out a deep and unsatisfied sigh.

Fuck. She was going to have to apologize, wasn’t she.

“You’ve treated us better than I would have ever expected you. Once you stopped threatening to hit us, at least.” Clair said reluctantly, eventually forcing herself to look Albein in the eyes even though her own arrogance and anger made it so difficult. Maybe that would let him see how honest she was being about this.

“…my brother was talking about increased attention on supply deprivation and night assaults during their training exercises recently.” She muttered, shaking her head. Even this much information felt almost wrong to be sharing, even if she both wished to see the top of Zofian society collapse for how she was treated and try to return at least some of the kindness shown to her here. “I would prepare for night raids and keep your supplies more secure. As my very presence here is sure to demonstrate to you, I doubt that Zofian High Command is going to be particularly chivalrous to your forces should war start.”

She stopped, and groaned as the next words came out choked and bitter. “And…I’m sorry.”

-w-w-w-

Albein merely gives a terse nod of assent to her scathing words towards the Zofian ruler, scowl forming on his face at the thought of having to go to war over petty insults, of all things. Yet it is her next words that actually give him pause, turning his expression from barely contained ire to… befuddlement, really.

And certainly, he still feels anger lurking within, the scowling tug at his lips remain and his emotions still flare with a defensive air—

        but to see this Zofian earnestly cede ground with an honest gaze despite how difficult she finds it to do, it is not something he would have expected to witness in his lifetime.

… Nor the intel, which he would ensure to bring to the attention of the Rigelian army as a whole. The last thing they needed was supply raids, not when they had oh so little and Zofia thrived on riches bestowed upon them by their God.

So he closes his eyes, taking a breath to try to cool the flames that still raged in his heart, let them simmer into embers that still stung even now. “… I too have not been the most stellarly behaved man.” He says, voice softening, even if he still sounded tense and angered. One breath, then another, and he puts thought into… what he actually just said.

It leaves him feeling a little more confused than anything, like he needed to think everything through more carefully— when he was alone. Clearing his throat, he proceeds and pushes the thoughts to the side for now. “I apologize as well.”

Still… there is value in what he had learned. “The information you have provided will be helpful in keeping my men alive and fed. I… understand it is difficult to share.” He wasn’t sure he ever would have, and perhaps it is what made the apology the most genuine in his eyes… if true. “… Thank you.”

… It was a struggle when he still felt like he should be angry, really, but perhaps it’s time he acknowledge that he’s not the only person with feelings in the room. Surely, now, he would be closer to understanding what kindness truly was. “… I will keep your words of the children of Lima in mind.” Discreetly, he finds himself rubbing the back of his left hand with his right, forcing himself to stop and instead… finish his food. Preferably in silence.

-w-w-w-

“If this war is inevitable then it would be for the best for it to end as swiftly as possible one way or another. And with how you have treated us recently…I fear that the preferred ending may be through your kingdom’s victory. I cannot say that my own royalty would treat their own captives with the same kindness.” She paused, glancing up from the floor and letting her eyes meet his for a brief moment.

In that instant, there was understanding. She was starting to see the kind of person that Albein really was, see past the initial barriers of callousness and, yes, even past the fact she found the man attractive. This was the kind of man who genuinely cared, even if his way of showing it was poor. Her jaw twinged a little.

“Well. To correct myself, I suppose it is better to say they would be more like the first few hours I spent here. Except stretched out over months, and with increasing levels of depravity.” She said in a forced light tone as she glared for an instant before looking away guiltily.

“I would suggest familiarizing yourself with combat in the air as well. In my last year of training I noticed that the entrance qualifications for the pegasus knights had drastically dropped since I began…I fear that this may well have been for a reason.” She paused again and asked in a more timid voice. “My mount…has  Bucephalus been treated properly? I know the animals were fed and watered, but I haven’t been allowed to see him since.”

-w-w-w-

His eyes flicker to her whenever she speaks, paying rapt attention even as he quietly finishes his own meal. His expression does, however, contort to a scowl at the thought of Zofian imprisonment; it sounded rather barbaric. Sure, as Clair and her people had been under review for actions that were unclear, the accomodations were what was considered decency — and had they been condemned of wrongdoing, they’d have been moved to proper cells…

But prolonging suffering with depravity felt unnecessary, almost akin to whatever those Faithful loyalists had been getting onto ever since the Faith changed leadership from Halcyon. It was… Gods, it certainly made him wish to have a word or two of his own.

His expression calms, however, when she tries to advice further, advice that gives him thought: their own pegasus division was lacking, if anything due to how finicky the mounts were, and how far less hardy they were in the cold. While bolstering their mounted archers would definitely help with skyward threats, he would most definitely consider proposing to his father that they look into better ways to care for and maintain pegasi healthy and active throughout the year in the northernmost part of the country. And, well, of course she’s worried about…. her beast. The thought makes him let out a noise of amusement after all the silence, and he swallows down the last of the food before he finally speaks to her.

“Your mount is as willful as you are. He is in the stables, fit as can be, though we do not know how he has been trained. As such… he has a harness now that doubles as a coat for warmth, but it is mostly so the beast does not… fly off. It would be a shame to confuse your pegasus for an enemy or even a fleeing one and see him shot down— but I assume being grounded has made him temperamental. I can’t say I blame him.” Might as well get… that out of the way first, since the woman did seem worried over the beast.

Ah, he couldn’t say much on the matter or even make fun of her— he too would be distraught if his favorite destrier had been kept from him in foreign lands. “As you and yours status has shifted to protected… guests… I am to assume you should be capable of visiting the stables from henceforth. Provided you both… remain within the premises.”

It is… not a threat, surprisingly, but rather a cautionary tone that he carries in his words, which he seems to delay to think through how to say things. He can’t just… throw words around, anymore.

“… You can be certain all you have told me will make its way to the Emperor’s ears. It is invaluable.” Dipping his head respectfully, he eyes her with mild curiosity, even if she had already told him her reasons. She would rather the conflict end swiftly… in their favor… and with minimal losses. Well… he could empathize with it. “Let us hope whatever comes of this mess ends quickly. I’ve no taste for needless slaughter. …Nor do I fancy your description of Zofian customs towards prisoners. I am… surprised, really.”

Honestly, he had thought them to not even be able to stomach the concept of keeping prisoners or something. He… had some research to do.

The prince remains seated, however, despite his thoughts that he truly should be elsewhere — it was rude to leave without waiting for her to be done, correct? … Maybe? He wasn’t sure if it was the same in Zofia, actually…

-w-w-w-

“Bucephalus is more than a mount. Not that I would expect you to understand the kind of bond that forms between a pegasus and their rider.” Clair said in a heated voice, eyebrows narrowing for a brief second. She wondered if it was worth the risk of the careful, knife-edge peace they’d established between them collapsing to tear into him a little more before she bit her tongue and let it pass.

Not that she didn’t want to, and she expected that he’d see that. Hopefully he’d let the temporary spike of acidity pass as she swirled water in her mouth and swallowed with a light grimace.

Perhaps she should have only metaphorically bitten her tongue.

“I would rather no war happen. But given my newfound feelings towards King Lima and his advisors…I suppose I can hardly be blamed for wishing to turn my coat. At least partially.” She hesitated. “I cannot say if you could use my cooperation to convince my parents to work with you, but my brother and his fiancee would be more amenable to listening should they see I am unharmed.”

A smirk flickered across her face for a moment, shaking her head. “Once he is finished with attempting to fillet you under the assumption you must have ravished me or such, that is. I dare say I would hate to see you perish, but perhaps a light beating in exchange for the one you gave me when we first met would be acceptable.”

-w-w-w-

Albein’s expression goes from mildly amiable to closed off and cautious the moment her voice heats and she makes a big deal and assumption over… words that are facts. The pegasus is a mount, as much as any war horse is, no matter how beloved and bonded. And the people of Rigel were known horsemen—! “For one who hates assumptions, you are quick to make your own.” He hisses in turn, standing from his seat. He’d tolerate this no longer than he absolutely had to. He had tried, Gods as witnesses, to be ‘reasonably understanding’, yet she would continue this testy little game…!

“We shall see how negotiations go with your kin. However, should your brother run off on his assumptions, I will not be holding back to defend my honor. I’ll not be compared to lecherous pigs.” No Rigelian worth their salt would let themselves just be beat upon false accusations, and he wasn’t about to be the first.

There’s a pause as he glowers down towards Clair, tension in the air thick and heavy, before he finally exhales once more and turns. “… We do not make habit to toss food here. Make sure to finish it.”

… That’s all he has to say to this damnable Zofian. It well may be that he has plenty to think of, but he’ll not lower himself to standing her company any longer when all she did was prod at his sides! He refused to lower himself to such. With a huff, he stalks off towards the doors.

-w-w-w-

“I understand.” Clair said quietly, aware that she must have crossed a line - but unwilling to admit her defeat. The lecherous pigs comment made her flinch back, eyes blazing in anger for a brief moment before she instead bit her tongue and looked to the side, unable to meet his gaze. No, that one was her fault, almost entirely.

She watched him leave in silence, for a brief moment considering that she should possibly stand up and apologize - but, no. She wasn’t there yet. She already felt sick for how she was selling out her nation, even if it was the only truly moral option she had available to herself - she couldn’t bring herself to debase herself in such a manner.

“Try not to choke on your own tongue muttering to yourself.” She grumbled once he was gone, shaking her head. She frowned, seeing that her hand was shaking nervously as she lowered her fork down to the table.

“…blast it…” She muttered to herself. She just hoped that when the death tolls from the war she’d just helped start came in, they wouldn’t keep her awake for too long each night.

The guilt was already eating at her.

[ncfan-1]

I know people like to rag on Celica for going along with Jedah’s plans in Act 4, but I actually kinda get it.

We know that Mila coddled the people of Zofia, that she fostered in them a sense of passivity and helplessness and dependency so complete that with her gone, most of them have little to no idea of what to do with themselves. Let’s look at what the game calls Zofia’s “famine” and “drought.”

Part of the magic Mila worked on Zofia involved making the crops grow, so that the Zofians didn’t need to grow them themselves, only harvest them. I don’t know if she also made water more plentiful than it otherwise would have been, but it’s possible that she was. Mila is sealed away by Emperor Rudolf, and as a result she’s no longer around to work her magic on Zofia anymore. The dragon-god of the land is no longer making the crops grow in the fields by magic, and yes, that does have an effect.

But there’s still plenty of food. The orange trees are getting enough water to have a lot of oranges on them. We find plenty of skins of water in dungeons. And while the most plentiful food is stuff like hard bread (read: old bread) and sacks of flour, there’s also stuff like carrots (root vegetables that have to grow in the ground), cheese and butter (neither of which can be made without cows, mares, goats, sheep, et cetera, all animals that need a fair amount of food and water to stay healthy enough to produce milk), and fresh bread, which can’t be made without flour, which can’t be made without wheat. Everyone says Zofia is in the middle of a terrible famine and drought, but there’s still plenty of food and no shortage of water significant enough to impact food production.

What it looks like to me is that Mila being removed from Zofia didn’t actually trigger a famine. Or a drought. What happened was that when Mila was removed from Zofia, the land reverted to its pre-Mila levels of fertility and water abundance, and the people have interpreted this as a drought and a famine because they’ve been so coddled by their dragon-god that the vast majority of them have no real idea of how to farm. It’s possible that people who moved to Zofia from Rigel have been doing the actual farming that would account for the things like sacks of flour and fresh bread that you can find in dungeons.

How does this relate to Celica? Well, Celica was raised clergy. She was raised in religious orders dedicated to the worship of Mila. So she would have been inculcated from the age of ten in the idea that Mila is here to take care of Zofia. Mila is here to do all of the hard work for them. Mila is the best-suited to doing the hard work because of her great power and her godliness. And implied in all that is the idea that Mila being the best-suited to doing the hard work automatically comes with the corollary that the Zofians are not well-suited to doing hard work. That they’re not capable of doing the hard work. That they’re too fallible and too weak to effect real change and progress.

(It’s also worth thinking about Celica’s traumatizing childhood, in the midst of her mother dying, her father being a depraved waste of air, the attempt on her life, and—she thinks—all of her siblings being murdered in context of her religious upbringing. It’s entirely possible that she sought solace in religious worship and piety to deal with all of this baggage, and that might account for why her thinking regarding Mila and Mila’s place in Zofian society is so rigid. I mean, this sort of thing is not unheard of in real life.)

Celica is someone who was raised to devalue her own capabilities, and to devalue other people’s capabilities as well. That’s why the same person who thinks it’s a good idea to storm a pirate king’s citadel with five people, if only to clear a path to get herself to the mainland without being killed by more pirates, is simultaneously as passive a personality as Celica is capable of being. Celica’s plan is to go to the Temple of Mila and beg her to, I don’t know, start caring again, and then fix everything. She never once considers the idea that maybe she should try “fixing things,” because that’s just ridiculous. Mother Mila will fix everything because that’s what Mother Mila does, and if Celica was capable of fixing anything, there wouldn’t be any need for Mila, now would there?

Alm’s plan of beating back Rigel with the Deliverance is needless and foolhardy and implicitly sinful because it implies that Mila isn’t capable of fixing everything. Celica goes to the Temple of Mila, finds out that Mila was taken away, and her new plan is to go rescue Mila so Mila can fix everything. She’s very slow to accept the burden of the crown that is rightfully hers (I assume that the reason Conrad is never considered as a potential heir is because his mother was a Rigelian noblewoman who was hated by the royal court for being a Rigelian, and thus he basically has no political support), and pretty much only accepts it because it’s the only way to cross the border into Rigel to get to Mila, so Mila will fix everything.

And then she finds out that Mila is basically dead, and that the only thing that can bring her back is if she gives her soul in payment.

I mean, imagine how desperate Celica must be. Like I said, she was raised clergy in a religion that fosters passivity and dependence on its god, and Celica seeking solace in religion to deal with her trauma, seeking out the worship of Mila as the one real stable foundation in her life, would potentially have made her even more reliant on Mila than the average devout Zofian. Mother Mila is all-powerful. Mother Mila makes the crops grow; the land will fall to famine without her. Mother Mila can fix any ill that plagues Zofia. The people of Zofia cannot survive without her. The people of Zofia are not capable of helping themselves in even the most basic way. They will die without her.

Mother Mila is dead. Your god is dead.

Jedah is obviously a lying liar who lies, and earlier in Act 4, Celica clearly didn’t trust him, but that was before she knew exactly what had become of Mila. Now, she’s desperate, and desperation can cloud your judgment badly.