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anghraine · 4 years

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pro patria, chapters 22-28

“You have to think this through,” he added. I appreciated the concern, but there wasn’t much left to think about at this point. “I’ll do whatever it takes to find my sister,” I told him. Dead or alive, shackled or escaped: I would find her, no matter what I had to do.

title: pro patria (22-28/?) stuff that happens: Althea begins her investigation of Falcon Company's loss.

verse: Ascalonian grudgefic characters/relationships: Althea Fairchild, Captain Tervelan, Sergeant Bigsby; Logan Thackeray, others; Althea & Deborah, Althea & Logan, Bigsby & Deborah chapters: 1-7, 8-14, 15-21

TWENTY-TWO 1 Another lieutenant felt the need to inform me, “I expected someone … more impressive.” “Impressive?” I repeated, nettled despite my best intentions. “In what way?” “Well,” he said, “bigger, maybe—definitely taller.” I scowled. Both lieutenants had a good few inches on me, as did Faren and Anise, while Logan had to bend his head down every time he spoke to me. I did not appreciate the reminder. 2 “And with rays of light shooting out from your head,” he added, and I immediately calmed. An idiot, clearly. “Sorry to disappoint,” I said. Making my way across the courtyard and up the stairs without further interruption, I eyed Captain Tervelan. He was an average-sized man with a thin, worn, sharp-featured face, like a skritt’s. Maybe that was unfair to the skritt, since the face seemed designed around a sneer—but, I reminded myself, people couldn’t help how they looked. “You must be the hero Thackeray warned me about,” said Tervelan. 3 Warned? I felt sure that Logan would have said nothing of the kind. Maybe this ass could help how he looked. But he’d been Deborah’s commander, so I stayed silent and expressionless. “He says you’re investigating the Falcons—that true?” “Yes,” I replied evenly, “Captain Thackeray said you’d help me. Have you heard anything about centaurs taking prisoners?” 4 A flicker of … not sympathy, but something other than contempt, crossed his face. But it vanished as soon as it appeared. Tervelan only scoffed, not even bothering to muffle the sound. “Thackeray’s been swaddled in the royal court for too long,” he said. “He’s forgotten how rough it is out here. You’ve wasted a trip.” I would decide that. 5 “Falcon Company is long gone,” Tervelan went on, shaking his head. “May Grenth have mercy on their souls. Go home, kid.” Kid? I thought incredulously. I’d never particularly embraced my title, but I was the hero of Shaemoor; I was, at the very least, an adventurer who’d won battles throughout Queensdale, without a scratch to show for it. Tervelan said, “You’re in over—” And below us, one of the lieutenants hollered, “Centaurs!” 6 “Get the monks inside! To arms!” Of course those godsdamned centaurs would complicate my only chance of discovering what they’d done to Deborah—to all of Falcon Company. Tervelan received the news impassively. “C’mon, hero,” he said. “You’re about to learn what it’s like outside the city gates.” Apparently none of them understood basic geography. 7 I raced ahead of Tervelan towards the gate; despite his superior size, he made no attempt to pass by, instead running a little behind me. Maybe he was a coward as well as an ass. Either way, we all managed to hold our ground, even though the centaurs had somehow acquired rifles, forcing us to constantly dodge and run out of the way. At last, a much larger centaur galloped into the fray, and Tervelan grabbed my arm. “That’s their leader,” he hissed. “Let’s see what he wants.” Death and destruction, I would have said, but the centaur swept us all with a look of utter disdain, and shouted— “Bring out the hero!”

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1) Logan had to bend his head down every time he spoke to me: an exaggeration, but not by much; this is Althea with Logan.

2) a thin, worn, sharp-featured face, like a skritt’s: skritt are an acquisitive, rat-like species.

------------------------------------------------------------- TWENTY-THREE 1 Even for a centaur, this one thought highly of himself. “I am Hruud the Reaver,” he bellowed, “pillager of human lands! I will kill any human who claims to be stronger than I!” I looked at his heavy frame, muscled in both legs and chest, and made no such claim. Why bother? I was neither tall nor muscular, even for a human; I had the strength for running between waypoints, and dodging and casting spells in battle, and that was about it. But I didn’t need strength to win. 2 “Let me see this great hero of Shaemoor I’ve heard has come to die beneath my hooves!” He swept another disdainful glance over us, clearly not realizing I was his enemy. I wouldn’t have expected him to recognize me, or any centaur to recognize me, but if he’d heard about my presence so soon, one of them must have been able to identify me on sight—unless— “I wonder how he found out you were here,” muttered Tervelan, echoing my own thoughts. “That’s unfortunate.” Unfortunate was one word for it. With a curl of his lip, he said, “You can sneak out the back, if you like.” 3 I ignored that, except to add it to the list of reasons I disliked him. “I challenge you, Hero of Shaemoor!” yelled Hruud. “Reveal yourself!” With a sigh, I stepped forward. Unless he turned out to be a good deal cleverer than he looked, I’d defeated dozens just like him. This was nothing but a waste of my time and the Seraph’s. Really, who had told him about me? 4 Deciding that I might as well get it over with, I sprang into battle. Tervelan called after me, “Make it a good fight! I better see some fancy moves!” I cared far more about the lives of the innocent people here than putting on a show. But if he wanted one, he’d get it; with a slash of my hand, I duplicated myself into clones, two distracting Hruud by dancing around his blows, while the rest of us concentrated our power into beams of magic, shot straight at his chest. Much more reassuringly, the abbey’s priests and priestesses cried out prayers for me. “Balthazar is with you!” 5 “Slay this vermin!” shouted another abbey brother, while the centaurs at Hruud’s back chorused cheers and insults. “That’s no Seraph!” one of them called out, laughing. “None of Tervelan’s soldiers are brave enough to face our champion!” Right, so now I’d gotten more respect from Tervelan’s enemies than Tervelan himself—and since when did centaurs call humans by name? Regardless, Balthazar plainly was on my side; Hruud never landed a hit on me, and the moment I exploded my clones turned out to be precisely the right one, the flash of light dazing him long enough for me to build more, and grind him down further, while he struggled to lift his weapon. Behind us, a woman—a sister of the abbey—raised her voice. “In the name of all Six Gods, tear his wretched heart out!” 6 I didn’t quite tear his heart out, but I did irradiate his body with aether until his heart stopped beating. Hruud collapsed in a tangle of hooves and limbs, his soldiers fleeing into a barely-organized retreat. That was good enough for the residents of the monastery, who burst into excited chatter as soon as they found themselves safe. I breezed past Tervelan and his lieutenants to reach out my hand to Sister Melea, the woman I’d heard in the battle. “Kormir bless you,” she said, tracing a flickering hexagon above my palm. I’d only meant to clasp her hand in gratitude, or perhaps slight apology, not to demand a blessing: least of all one from Kormir herself. But if Kormir and Balthazar both guided my steps, surely that meant I was on the right path—didn’t it? 7 “I’m fortunate,” I assured Melea. “Balthazar was watching over me—I just couldn’t let them hurt the monks.” “Your courage is inspiring,” she replied, her eyes bright. “I’m going to name one of our beers after your deeds. What should we call it?” I glanced over at Tervelan, and smiled. “Hero’s Hops,” I said.

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1) exploded my clones: this is less violent than it sounds like; clones are illusionary duplicates of yourself that will attack your enemies but can be voluntarily shattered for various effects, not ... uh, actual people.

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TWENTY-FOUR 1 “Not bad for a city scab,” said Captain Tervelan. To my satisfaction, the dismissive words didn’t quite conceal an unsettled expression. He shook it off, tone dropping to something like civility. “I’m beginning to think you’re as competent as they say you are. So tell me—what are your plans?” I set my jaw, the euphoria of battle receding into the frustration I’d felt before. “I plan to find out what happened to Falcon Company.” 2 Tervelan shook his head, a thin and unconvincing layer of sympathy lying over his voice. “What happened to the Screaming Falcons was a tragedy, but this is a fool’s errand.” Turning sharply on his heel, he gestured for me to follow him back up the stairs, to the higher levels where Seraph stood guard. When we were alone, his gaze shifted to the sight beyond the monastery’s walls: the thick forest and hills, and paths carved through both by humans and centaurs alike. At last, he said, “I can’t spare good soldiers for a personal vendetta; I need them to handle these centaurs.” Personal vendetta? That could only mean Deborah—and that could only mean that he knew who I really was. 3 My dismay must have shown in my expression. Tervelan gave a low chuckle. “Your name isn’t a secret, Lady Althea. Neither is your face.” “My face,” I said blankly. Any number of people hadn’t known me until I spoke to them, or until some third party pointed me out. “Even the centaurs recognized you,” said Tervelan, “when you came here and put us all in danger.” 4 “I—” “And Sergeant Fairchild was fond of her family,” he added, silencing anything else I might have said. “She carried a miniature of you all with her—perhaps you recall? We never found it, afterwards.” Abruptly, I did remember: years ago, an Asura mechanic had shown up in Divinity’s Reach, making pictures with some boxy contraption, and my father had paid exorbitantly for a little picture of all four of us. Deborah had taken it when she joined the Seraph; though I was much younger in the picture, perhaps fourteen, I might well be recognizable to a close eye. I didn’t doubt that Captain Tervelan had a close eye. 5 “Let me help,” I urged him, unable to think of any better solution. “If we get done quickly, maybe your soldiers can help me afterward.” If Kormir and Balthazar really guided me, it would happen. Tervelan studied the landscape for another moment. Then he jerked back so abruptly that he nearly hit me. “Fine,” he said. “Rendezvous with my squad at the centaur camp over the hill.” 6 That seemed almost too easy. “You take out the herd, and we’ll see,” he said, fixing me with a cold stare. “No promises, though, hero. My duty here comes first.” “I’ll do it,” I promised, sparing a silent prayer to the gods. “Don’t worry, captain. I’ll be back soon.” 7 I talked to Tervelan once more before I left; he just brusquely told me to get to the centaur camp. In what passed for reassurance with him, he added, “My soldiers are waiting for you.” However, I found no such thing. Instead, a single soldier skulked nearby, one who stared in obvious horror as I approached. “You’re my back-up?” he hissed. “Has the captain lost his mind? I expected an entire squad!” TWENTY-FIVE 1 “Stinking centaurs—can’t ever kill enough of them,” he muttered to himself. Then he stuck out his hand. “I’m Sergeant Bigsby.” I nodded. “And I’m—” “The hero of Shaemoor,” said Bigsby. “We heard you’d be coming.” 2 I couldn’t tell what he thought about it. Without a pause, he went on, “Where are the others? Captain Tervelan said he was sending a unit to help me with the assault on the centaur camp.” “That’s what he told me, too,” I said tightly. Gods, I was an idiot. Oh, this wasn’t proof; I could think of half a dozen benign explanations. But I didn’t believe any of them. 3 Bigsby looked unsure, either of me or Tervelan. “I’m not sure two of us can do this by ourselves,” he said. “Maybe we should go back to the monastery?” I set my jaw. Idiot or not, I hadn’t come this far to turn back now—and I’d had worse fights. “I have to do this,” I insisted. “I need information about my sister, and he’s got it.” 4 Bigsby caught his breath, eyes going wide. “You’re Althea Fairchild?” he exclaimed. Odd. My name evidently had meaning for him beyond the simple fact of its existence, yet he hadn’t realized that it belonged to the hero of Shaemoor, even though Tervelan had said people knew— Oh, of course Tervelan had lied about literally everything. Bigsby lowered his voice even as he seized my hand, shaking it enthusiastically. “I should have recognized you!” 5 I couldn’t think why he should have recognized me, or how he might have done it; I certainly had no memory of meeting him. In fairness, I met a lot of people. “You look just like your sister,” he explained. I blinked at him, genuinely taken aback. Nobody had ever said such a thing to me; Deborah was blonde and round-faced, her frame leaner and considerably shorter than mine—we used to joke that it was a miracle they’d found a uniform small enough for her. Bigsby gestured vaguely at the upper half of his face. “Around the eyes,” he said. 6 That was fair, I supposed; our eyes did have the same shape and colour, but nobody else had ever paid attention to that little resemblance. “She was a damn good soldier,” said Bigsby, voice choked. “But you know that.” I focused back on him, vastly more interested in Deborah’s career than her appearance. “You knew my sister?” “Yes,” he answered, “I was stationed here a few months before … well, you know.” I was not going to cry. 7 Bigsby closed his eyes for a lingering moment, taking regular, deep breaths until his voice evened out. “She helped me figure out how to be a good Seraph.” That sounded like Debs: as different as we were, she’d always done her best to guide me, from wrapping her fingers around my tiny hands as I took my first steps to explaining our legacy as Ascalonians as she turned from the luxuries of our manors and the Ministry. “That’s why you’re here, right?” he pressed. “Because of the rumours?” Wait, what? I could only echo, “Rumours?” TWENTY-SIX 1 “What rumours?” I demanded, not even trying for caution. I couldn’t, not after so long, when I’d come so far. Bigsby seemed nearly as eager. “Nobody ever knew how the centaurs found out the Falcons’ patrol route,” he said. “There’ve always been questions about why the company was sent out alone.” I’d never thought of that; until Shaemoor, I didn’t know enough to consider it odd. But now I did. 2 “Nothing official, though,” Bigsby added quickly. “Just beer talk.” It’d have to be, wouldn’t it? I turned my gaze to a tree just behind him, forcing down my creeping fears and suspicions. In the moment, none of those helped us. “If I clean out these centaurs,” I said, “maybe Captain Tervelan will tell me what really happened.” At this point, it seemed a slim maybe—but I had to try. 3 “If this is for Debs,” Bigsby said, then broke off and cleared his throat. “If this is for Debs, I’d be a mighty poor friend to leave you here alone. I guess I’m in it, too.” I clapped his shoulder, smiling. He’d never fought alongside me, even in practice, never acquired any first-hand knowledge at all; he wouldn’t know anything from Deborah, either, since I couldn’t have beaten a training dummy back then. He was walking into a fight he doubted we could win for Deborah, for their friendship. Whether she lived or not, I was glad she’d had a friend like him. 4 We snuck into the camp without much difficulty, found it empty, and started methodically destroying supplies. If they were near enough to respond, we’d get them herded into the cave; if they weren’t, well, they’d have a lot less equipment. It was a fairly easy fight, in truth. I’d taken on worse ones, and usually by myself. With Bigsby, there was hardly any trouble at all; despite wasting energy on hollering insults, he turned out to be a good man to have at my back. Nothing like Logan or Anise, of course, but competent and efficient. And when I saw the cages, I needed someone at my back. 5 After dodging around the last centaur’s spear and slicing its head off, Bigsby stopped to catch his breath. He pointed at one of the cages. “You might find prisoners’ belongings inside that cage near the tent. Check it out; I’ll cover you.” I darted towards the cage, forcing myself to be cautious with the battered and decayed belongings scattered around the cage. It didn’t look like the centaurs had ever bothered to investigate them, just tossed them aside like trash. It was just like them—and lucky for us. 6 Beneath quite a lot of genuine trash, and a tattered and stained cloak, I found it: something better than either of us could have dreamed of. It was a soldier’s journal, emblazoned with a falcon. I carefully opened it, paging through depressingly mundane entries, until they came to an abrupt stop halfway through. On the right-hand page, someone had scrawled out Survivors, following the title with a list of names. Perhaps twelve or fifteen. I scanned downwards, telling myself that I was counting, determining our losses at the time— My hand closed over the chain at my collar, twisting until my fingers chilled, but I kept going. 7 Lann Black, Corp Val Gayan, Sgt Deborah Fairchild, Sgt— Deborah. Deborah! She was alive, or had been. But it was possible as it had never been before. Of course I’d never sensed her spirit at the grave, or anywhere else; even as we strained for some connection, she might very well have drawn breath. Drawn breath in slave pens, but—alive! TWENTY-SEVEN 1 On the left-hand page, the unknown soldier had scratched out in fading ink: Set up for centaur attack. Must have been Tervelan. Don’t know why. I drew a sharp breath. It didn’t come as a surprise; not really. But proof was something else—proof that a captain of the Seraph, one of Logan’s equals, had betrayed his command and his queen beyond anything Zamon might have imagined. Betrayal really could come from anywhere. 2 I shoved the little journal into my pouch, making my way back to Bigsby. We seemed to have cleaned out the entire den; at least, we neither saw nor heard any hint of anyone else, though he stayed on guard as he looked at the bodies in wonder. Shakily, he said, “The only reason I followed you in there was because you’re you.” I managed a faint smile. “I didn’t even think we’d survive, but you were great! Hey, what did you find?” I told him about the journal and the list of survivors. 3 Bigsby’s face lit up, then darkened into a puzzled frown. “I thought Captain Tervelan said there were no survivors.” Glancing around at the bloody bodies, shattered equipment, and cages, I clenched my jaw. Under my skin, my whole body seemed to be twitching. “Tervelan may be lying to cover his tracks,” I said, and finished telling him about the final entry. His eyes went wide, his mouth open; he looked like a slapped child. “I … I don’t know what to think.” 4 “Tervelan, a traitor?” Bigsby said doubtfully. Then his eyes widened still further. “You don’t think he sent us out here alone to die, do you?” I very definitely thought so, and had suspected it before. I just nodded, trying to approximate reluctance. In a quiet voice, he said, “He hasn’t been happy with me lately.” So Tervelan had deliberately selected Bigsby as an acceptable sacrifice for trapping me, or worse, found it a convenient opportunity to eliminate a sergeant he disliked—either way, he was utter scum. 5 “It’s a distinct possibility,” I said, keeping my tone firm. “But don’t worry, Bigsby—we’ll get to the bottom of this together.” He took a deep breath (which he looked like he’d needed) and burst out, “By all the gods, these animals will pay!” “The centaurs will get theirs in time,” I promised. Deliberately, I relaxed my fists, softened my voice. “Now, I need to have a little talk with Captain Tervelan.” Bigsby looked alarmed all over again. 6 I couldn’t actually confront Tervelan at the monastery, it turned out; Bigsby told me that Tervelan had left to wipe out a small group of ettins before they became a large one, though he would return shortly. “He didn’t mention any ettins to me—that’s funny,” I said. “The man’s sounding shadier and shadier.” And I really wouldn’t have thought there was much shade left to add. Bigsby all but vibrated with anxiety. “What are you going to do?” 7 “You have to think this through,” he added. I appreciated the concern, but there wasn’t much left to think about at this point. “I’ll do whatever it takes to find my sister,” I told him. Dead or alive, shackled or escaped: I would find her, no matter what I had to do. Bigsby, rather than being intimidated, seemed to find this sympathetic and reasonable. He gave a brisk nod. “All right.” TWENTY-EIGHT 1 “The way I see it,” said Bigsby, “you have two options.” I waited for him to finish, though more as a matter of form. There was exactly one option: surrounding Tervelan in clones and putting our swords at his throat until he talked—and if he thought to escape, we’d encase him in aether. “Tell your friend, Captain Thackeray, what we suspect,” Bigsby went on, “but then Tervelan might get away.” I faltered; I’d forgotten about Logan’s role in this, as captain and as friend. In the few months we’d known each other, he’d somehow become the closest thing I had to an older sibling, with Deborah gone and Faren perpetually adolescent. She might not be gone after all; soon I might be able to count myself a little sister in blood as well as name; but still, I couldn’t leave him out of it. 2 Bigsby said, “Or we could confront Tervelan directly—without backup.” Uh, no. We could beat him in a fair fight, but this was Tervelan; it wouldn’t be fair, and I didn’t mean to get Bigsby killed (or maybe even myself) after all this. And I was here on Logan’s behalf, even if I had license to follow my own objectives and represent him however I liked. He needed to know that a traitor walked among the Seraph, ready to throw away the lives of the men and women under his command. He particularly needed to know it was a captain, one he knew and had trusted, if he was to protect the queen and Kryta. “I have to tell Captain Thackeray what’s going on out here,” I said. 3 Duty aside, I’d seen the monastery bristling with Tervelan’s soldiers and the grateful clerics they protected. It’d be good to have Logan at my side when I confronted Tervelan. And I didn’t even need to manufacture an explanation for leaving; Tervelan’s sudden ettin-hunt, though undoubtedly meant to protect himself, had bought us time. “I’ll be waiting,” said Bigsby, holding out his hand. He paused. “Deborah was a good soldier. I guess it runs in your family.” 4 I smiled, truly gratified, and shook the offered hand. “Thanks, Bigsby,” I told him. “You’re a good soldier.” After a hesitation, I added, “My sister taught you well.” Bigsby chewed on his lip, eyes so bright that I knew he must be just holding off tears. Well, I understood dignity. I shook his hand one last time, said my last farewell, cast my signet, and took off running for the nearest waypoint. 5 I had barely stumbled out of the palace waypoint and paid my fees when I took up running again, heedless of the glances I received from fellow nobles (along with anyone who happened to be in my path). Without hesitation, I banged on the door to Seraph Headquarters. Thankfully, the guard recognized me on sight and escorted me to Logan without difficulty. Everything, I thought, was so much easier in Divinity’s Reach. “Althea?” he said, his glance little short of astonished. I could feel my entire face flushed with all my running about, and my clothes had to be sweaty and perhaps even dirty. For once, I didn’t care. 6 I quickly pulled him aside, which was to say, I tugged at his armour and he followed along, looking concerned. “What—” “Captain,” I said urgently, “I’m afraid I have bad news. Tervelan is a traitor; he sent me into centaur territory, promising back-up, but then he never actually sent anyone. He meant for us to die there.” Logan’s eyes widened. “That’s outrageous!” 7 It hadn’t crossed my mind that he might doubt me; I was still collecting myself when he went on, “He’s a Seraph captain.” A little uncertainly, Logan added, “You’re sure it wasn’t just a misunderstanding?” “I’m sure,” I said, reassured, and told him what I had found. “Tervelan didn’t want me investigating these deaths, to the point where he nearly got me killed—I know he’s hiding something, captain.” Logan stared down at me, searching my face. Then, his usual resolve returned to his own face, and he clasped my shoulder. “All right.”

#ascalonian grudgeblog #ascalonian grudgefic #anghraine's gaming #anghraine's fic #althea fairchild #sergeant bigsby #hruud #logan thackeray #sister melea #captain tervelan #guild wars 2 #pro patria

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