User blog:GamerNerd i/Trial By Fire? - A New Alliance

Okay, so...

The event in the previously mentioned game has already ended.

But I'm going to keep writing this story because I want to, dammit.

Here's a link to the entire thing, by the way. You can keep track of my progress as I go, and I'll be putting up each chapter as it's finished. Even though it's probably just going to be like 4 actual chapters.

I hit the ground pretty hard. On the bright side, I was two times as lucky as usual: I landed in the grass, and my scythe didn’t land in me. A pretty good start.

My back hurt. I must have landed on it pretty hard. Slowly, I got up and checked my surroundings. Everything seemed more vibrant than Askr. Not brighter, mind you, but more vibrant. Askr was bright. This place was more colorful than Niles’ language. I blinked a few times to make sure that I wasn’t just having eye problems again.

I instinctively checked for Breidablik and heaved a sigh of relief. The divine weapon was still holstered. I reached out for my scythe to help me get up, but it never came. My hand went to my left wrist… Nothing. My watch, with all my weapons, was missing. Not so good.

Someone stirred near me, so I got up and cautiously made my way toward the noise. Being the clumsy person I am, I tripped on a familiar lance. It was Leiptr, the Lance of Ice. Which meant…

“Fjorm! Fjorm, wake up!” She didn’t respond. I put my finger to her neck. Thankfully, she still had a pulse. Just unconscious. I reached for one of the potions at my belt to find that they were gone, too. Wonderful.

Thanks to some herbalism, I found a plant nearby that would’ve done pretty much the same thing. I placed a few crushed leaves under the princess’s nose and her eyes fluttered open. “Aidan? What…?”

I exhaled in relief. “Before I answer that, are you okay? Nothing broken?”

Fjorm rolled over onto her back slowly. “I… No. I don’t believe so. Where are we?”

Scanning our surroundings again, I stood up. “Wish I could tell you. It’s not Zenith, that’s for sure.”

“That portal… It wasn’t like the other gates we have passed through.” She stood and took up her lance again. “Do you think it was Embla’s trap?”

I shook my head. “Considering that they didn’t expect it either, I’m going to say no. Although-“

“Aidan!” Fjorm shushed and pointed behind me. “Behind you, on the road! Surely that isn’t who I believe it is?”

I got down and looked where she was pointing. A familiar woman with dark mahogany-colored hair stepped out of a portal just like the one we were sucked into. I’d know that hat, that sly smile, those intentionally distracting blobs of- Wait.

Ignore that last part.

Anyway, no matter which of her features I identified her by, I gritted my teeth upon recognition. “God damn it. Loki.”

Loki was, for a time, the tactician for Múspell. Somewhere along the line, she swapped teams, giving us a map leading to an incognito backdoor into Surtr’s castle, which allowed us to finally kill the guy. Since then, she’s shown up on and off, causing trouble here and there and generally being a cryptic pain in the ass. None of us in the Order has any idea if she has some kind of ulterior motive or if she’s literally just doing it because she likes to. We’re legitimately clueless. We just know that if Loki shows up, something sketchy’s going down.

“Orders?” Fjorm asked, readying her lance.

“Hold,” I instructed. Fjorm lowered Leiptr.

I remembered what Bruno said before negotiations had begun. I thought I saw something move… It was Loki. She was behind the gate, the portal… Everything. She’s how we got here. The more important question was why.

I’d gotten so entrenched in my thoughts that I barely noticed her leave. “I know we’re both very enthusiastic to confront her, but now’s not the time,” I explained. “There’s nothing we can do. We don’t know anything, I don’t even have my weapons…” Fjorm glanced at my wrist and noticed my missing watch. “And most importantly, we need to find whoever else got dumped here. Then we can take her on.”

Fjorm nodded. “We must find the others. And on the way, perhaps we will learn something of our location.”

And my stuff, I added mentally. “Conveniently enough, we seem to have landed right next to a road… Keep your lance down, and I’ll hide Breidablik. Don’t look or act combative. We don’t know what we’re getting into.” We set off.

There was a town nearby. It was small, but it was clear that some kind of battle had occurred recently. A hole in the wall here, a shattered window there… The townspeople were checking the damage. As far as I could tell, they’d gotten lucky. Everything was fixable with a little bit of material.

“Excuse me, sir,” I called to a man who had had his door kicked in. “Would you be able entertain a couple of strangers for a moment?”

The man looked us up and down curiously. I unconsciously drew my robe closer to hide Breidablik’s holster. “Sure thing. Where ‘ya from?”

“We hail from the kingdom of Askr. Sound familiar?”

The man shook his head. “Never. Must be pretty far-off, lucky bastards. Ever since the Empire took power things’ve gone t’ ‘ell. ‘Specially recently, fer no reason.”

Fjorm and I glanced at each other. “Pray tell, what empire?” She asked.

“What empire? Ye really are from far off,” He muttered jealously. “Buncha purple-wearin’ blokes callin’ themselves the Dyrenell Empire. The royal family’s gone t’ moot. ‘Cept for that prince they labeled a traitor. Th’ boy’s the only one of ‘em who care about folk like us now, apparently. Not that anyone cared beforehand.”

I put two and two together. “I’m assuming that he was through here recently, judging by the signs of… Conflict.”

He nodded. “Smart one. Imperial goons came though, lookin’ t’ sack us. Prince came through with his buddies and smacked ‘em as usual.” The man looked to the side for a bit thoughtfully and thought out loud. “Now that I think of it, a mite small lassie was leadin’ ‘em this time… Ne’er seen her round before.”

Both our alarms went off. Fjorm got agitated. “Would you… Be able to describe this girl?”

“Din’t get quite a good look at her, but she ain’t from round here either. Silvery hair, always frownin’... Wore a lotta black like she was at some bloke’s funeral.”

That was Veronica, most likely. Fjorm and I asked for a general direction. The man jabbed his thumb back the way we came. “No tellin’ where the Empire goons went, they all scattered to the winds as soon as Prince Septius showed up. He’s yer best bet. Left down that way ‘bout an hour ago. Hop on it if ye wanna catch up.”

We thanked the man and made our way back, discussing as we went. “So Veronica’s here, and causing trouble with this Dyrenell Empire… I’m a little disappointed.”

Fjorm shrugged. “Perhaps she blames us for this entire situation. Askr has the power to open gates, regardless of whether that… Portal was intentional or not. I sincerely hope this won’t change the relations we’ve worked so hard to keep the last few months.”

A light went off in my head. “Wait, Fjorm, we’ve already forgotten… Loki is here. And that means…”

“It may not have been Veronica at all… Of course. I do hope Veronica is still amicable.”

“Well, amicable for her, at least,” I muttered. I was wordless for a moment. “Fjorm. Tell me something. Look around.” I gestured vaguely to the woods around us. “Are we even in our own world anymore?”

The princess took a moment to answer. “Well, of course not.”

I hesitated. “Let me rephrase that. Are we in our own dimension anymore? As in, if we traveled long enough would we-“

“No.” Her sharp response caught me off guard. “That is what I meant. We are no longer in Zenith. This place isn’t another world like the World of Birthright, or Awakening, or Mystery…” She took a deep breath. “Everyone in my family dreamt. They all reached beyond time and space. Only…”

I knew where she was going. “You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, I should. My elder sister, in addition to remembering her dreams, dreamt beyond time and space. She dreamt, in your terms, of other dimensions.” Gunnthra, Fjorm’s older sister, had been the first to warn the Order about Múspell via my dreams. We met in person once, but it was… Very brief. Suffice it to say that her ice did more than melt against Surtr‘s blaze. “She would tell us, sometimes. This place… I believe it was one of her final dreams. She told us, before…” She stopped suddenly. She didn’t need to continue.

“Hey, hey,” I put her drooping chin up and planted my hands on her shoulders. “Don’t worry about it. I know. Don’t worry about it… That’s all behind us now. He got what he deserved.” I tried to smile. “Just remember. I’m here for you, the others are here for you, no matter where we are.” She nodded solemnly. “You good?”

“I will be… Let us keep moving.”

At that moment, the sounds of conflict reached our ears. Swords clashing, metal on metal. Both of us instinctively readied our weapon.

“I’d bet a summon ticket that’s the prince we’re looking for,” I said. “Be ready for a hostile greeting.”

“Why?”

“Just… A gut feeling. It happens sometimes. Some people fight first and ask later.”

We moved toward the clash.

As it turns out, we found two princes.

One was, I assumed, the traitor-prince that the villager was talking about. Golden hair, green eyes… Like Sharena, now that I think of it. Around him stood his traveling party — they didn’t look like retainers, just from the way they interacted with each other. They had the entire triangle covered, and then some. If we got into a fight, things wouldn’t be good; not to mention that I only had Breidablik with me.

The other prince was Alfonse. And he was losing. Badly.

It wasn’t even because they’d ganged up on him. The other prince was just… His style was nothing like anything I’d seen before. You would think that after traveling to dozens of worlds and meeting a lot (and I mean a lot) or swordsmen, you wouldn’t be surprised much. But this was… I don’t even know.

What the hell is he doing? I whispered, referring to both Alfonse and the prince. I know Alfonse isn’t the best swordsman in the world, but he hasn’t lost this badly since-

The prince’s voice broke my train of thought. “I don’t want to kill you! Surrender!”

Alfonse, though severely wounded, picked himself up again. “I’m… Not done yet!”

The other guy obviously wasn’t expecting it. The blow hit him pretty hard; His sword, Folkvangr, makes him stronger in dire straits. Not to mention that he’s a little… Brash. “Come ON already!” He shouted in frustration.

“I’ll not allow you to harm his Highness!” A woman with a lance stepped between him and Alfonse’s follow-up strike. The rest of his group started stepping up too, including a hefty guy with a sizable axe.

“I ain’t a fan of gangin’ up on somebody in a fight,” he started, “but this joker clearly don’t know when he’s beat!”

I stood and stared, trying to formulate a plan that wouldn’t get everyone killed. I didn’t get the chance. Fjorm took off into the middle of them. “Princess, don’t just- God damn it!” I chased her down.

“Stop, please!” She called, positioning herself between Alfonse and his assailants. Surprisingly, they stopped. For the moment, at least. “This quarrel is pointless!”

Alfonse’s eyes softened with relief. “Aidan… Princess Fjorm…”

“It is good to see you safe, Prince Alfonse.”

I knelt down near Alfonse to start healing his wounds. I’ll admit, I wasn’t gracious as I should have been. Maybe. “Yeah, it’s us, dipshit. Were you planning on dying today? Hold still.”

“They were stronger than I expected… I was trying to-“

Admittedly, I just went off. “You were outnumbered five to one and you still tried to fight? Dude, you can’t just do that. And you don’t have to fight. Your adrenaline is called ‘fight or flight’ for a reason.”

“You don’t understand,” he said, cutting me off. “I was stalling so Veronica could get away. She was being pursued by soldiers.” I stopped healing for a moment. Fjorm and I were right. The villager earlier had said that Veronica was leading the Empire… With Alfonse’s conflicting narrative, Loki was definitely up to something.

“Might I ask who you are?” The prince asked. I was surprised. He still had his sword out, but his guard had clearly dropped. Did he really not feel threatened at all by reinforcements? That being said, Fjorm had offered an olive branch immediately…

“I beg you to listen to what I have to say, Prince Septius,” Fjorm said. “See, the three of us are not from this world…”

She went off. I was surprised to see how well Fjorm could speak when she wanted to. Granted, there haven’t been many of those opportunities in the past. She kept her composure astoundingly well despite the fact that we were outnumbered 2 to 1, not even considering Alfonse’s health and my only having my backup weapon. Everyone listened. By the time I’d fully healed Alfonse, she’d gone through the entire story, including an explanation of her sister’s visions.

Reactions varied. Prince Septius somehow managed to remain calm about the entire thing. A woman with a lance — Elisanne, as I learned later, inadvertently brought up the invasion of Nifl. Cleo, the castle’s housekeeper (and healer, from her equipment; what is it with housekeepers being healers?) inquired about Askr and Nifl themselves. Luca, a kid with rabbit ears (I originally assumed he was a taguel, but later on I was told his race were the sylvans), didn’t take it that well, especially when we told him about how common inter-world travel was in our experience.

Then we talked about Veronica and Askr-Embla relations and how we’re kind of allies but not really. And we got to the issue Loki.

Alfonse’s jaw dropped. “By the gods, Loki is here?!”

“Yeah, didn’t I tell you?” Alfonse shook his head. “Oh. Fjorm and I saw her not even five minutes after we dropped in. Had those Dyrenellians in tow.”

He flinched. “I cannot believe she is also here… This bodes most ill indeed.” bodes most ill indeed.”

I gave Septius and his friends a quick rundown of Loki, to their shock. I guess I took it for granted that someone could just become a doppelgänger at will. Dealing with a very persistent person like that takes its toll.

“This day’s getting weirder by the second,” Ranzal quipped.

“Still, they don’t seem to be lying…” Septius thought aloud. “I’m inclined to believe them.”

Ranzal laughed. “How’d I know you’d say that? You're the boss man, so if it’s whatcha wanna do, we’ll do it.”

Fjorm and I sighed in relief. “It seems that the rumors about you were true. It was well worth seeking you out.”

Cleo nodded like this was a thing that happened every day. Which, for all I knew, it did. “Well then, so long as you are here, I think we should fill you in on our own situation as best we can…”

They did. And… Yikes. That’s a lot of trauma in a short length of time. Turns out that Dyrenell used to be Alberia, but Septius' dad got possessed by some ultimate evil and got absorbed into a half-dead dragon, then the same evil possessed his younger sister who’s now the Empress of Dyrenell. Not to mention that his other siblings are either working with Dyrenell, working against him, or just doing nothing. And he’s the second youngest of the family. And I thought Corrin had family issues.

“Well, you certainly seem to have faced your fair share of hardships,” Alfonse said, much more eloquently than I would have. “Strange as it is to say, I feel like that makes me trust you all the more.”

Septius nodded. “I understand. And if you want to return to your world, we’ll help however we can.”

Fjorm and I watched as the two princes came together and shook each others’ hands. “You have my deepest gratitude, Prince Septius.”

“It’s good to meet you, Prince Alfonse.”

Fjorm smiled as the two began discussing paths forward, with Alfonse prioritizing Veronica. I was only partially listening. Something else caught my ear.

“Hey guys,” I started, “I know you’d like to get a plan together, but I think-“ A scream cut me off and caught the others’ attention. “Yep, there it is.”

A man from a village — not the one we’d just left, since he came from the other direction — ran up to the prince out of breath. “Prince Septius! The Dyrenell Empire is attacking, and in vast numbers!”

Ranzal hefted his axe and growled. “Of all times… So much for searching for that princess.”

“That may not be a coincidence,” Alfonse said. “It’s almost as if they want to stall us.”

Septius was already raring to go. “Diversion or no, we have to defend the people of this town.”

The three of us newcomers nodded to each other.

“Then my sword is yours.”

“I also offer up my strength to your cause.”

“What are we waiting for?”

Septius nodded. “Thank you… Come on, everyone!”

As we all hurried off, I couldn’t help but wonder what was happening back home… More Askrans had been sucked in than Emblians, but Alfonse was the one who could have opened the gate. I know it wasn’t him, but would they know?

I hoped so. I’d hate to come back to even more war.

Trivia/References

 * Dragalia Lost's prince is nameable. The base name is Euden, but I used the name I gave, Septius. The number seven is septem in Latin, and the prince is the seventh child in his family.