Chapter Text
And Yotsuyu had thought Doma was wrecked with steel and fire.
Here she stood, by the order of Lord Hien, once a maidservant and now expected to aid the Resistance. By her side, Lucero stood bright-eyed and chipper, no worse for wear despite apparently traveling time and space. Her chaperone, as always. Somewhere out on that battlefield had to be the Crown Prince having the time of his damn life.
She’d been given green armor to wear, dyed in the colors of the Bozjans, with a standard-issue gun at her disposal. For once, she was thankful she could channel aether easily, placing a hand on the firearm strapped to her side. It came with a box to let her fire aetherial shots more easily, an unusual weight she had to get used to.
But Yotsuyu had always been a crack shot. Holding it in her hands again made her a bit nervous. The last time she’d shot someone, it had been Gosetsu, and while she fought here he still rested at Kienkan. Imagining shooting him again just made her feel ill. Hopefully she’d stave off thoughts of him when her life was on the line.
“So, where’s your pup?” Leaning on a tent beam, Yotsuyu turned her gaze to Lucero.
“Having the time of his life. Less qualms about fighting Garleans than you might guess. I’m sure the IVth’s forces are terrified.”
“Less than zero, it seems…” Twining a piece of her shorn hair, Yotsuyu let out a small sigh. “I’m not sure how I’m going to do out there.”
It had been cut just before she left Kienkan, Yugiri taking her aside into the courtyard. She sat on that stool as the woman hacked at her hair. They’d spoken very few words, but Yotsuyu did manage to ask why Yugiri was cutting her hair, when Yugiri’s remained long and in twin tails. The only answer she gave Yotsuyu was that Yugiri never chanced being caught by the hair by a man. That very idea had made Yotsuyu shudder, and she took a haircut without any further complaint. And the result, in the end, felt satisfactory. She now wore it just to her chin, bangs trimmed right above her brows. With short hair came security.
“Just come with me, then. I’ll keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t get roughed up, okay?”
“Mm. Let’s get going, then.” Pushing herself off the beam, she walked forward, towards the gate. “Do you think we’ll see anything interesting out there?”
“I would hope so. As much as this is just a duty, I want to find something interesting!” His eyes lit up, visibly sparkling. “Come, let’s go see what’s out there!”
After a few bells though, all they really found was death, monsters, and more death. Admittedly, the ones near the gate were less murder-happy, but most anything out there, magitek or beast, seemed to want to attack them both. At least Lucero’s large sword cleaved things in twain, and Yotsuyu still had her aim. They had gotten involved in quite a few skirmishes, popping up almost right under their feet at times as Bozjans and Garleans crossed paths. And a few times, she could almost swear she saw Zenos cackling like a madman, scythe swinging back and forth wildly, arms soaked up to his elbows in blood. It sent a shiver down her spine just thinking about it. And of course, even though it hadn’t been raining, mud slowed their steps, and old barriers made getting around enemies without engaging nigh impossible.
She could see why neither side had become victorious yet– They were fighting the terrain more than each other.
They came back to camp bedraggled and sweating.
“How… your pet… manages to spend bells out there… Is beyond me.”
“I admit… neither of us are very athletic.”
Her head nearly turned fully around as she looked back at him over her shoulder, a glare blazing on her face. “You’re the gods-damned warrior of light! How can you not handle… handle a few bells out there?”
“I get tired easily! My fights don’t last very long!”
Yotsuyu grumbled, then stalked over to a dry piece of ground, plopping down. Her everything hurt at this point. She’d need to go back to Gangos soon and sleep in a real tent. What was Hien thinking , sending her out here? It had seemed so nice and pleasant, a request for aid from skilled fighters. Maybe he was laughing at her in Kienkan, knowing that for the past ten or so summers of her life, she’d been living like a spoiled princess.
She grumbled even more, arms folded over her chest. She wanted her pretty embossed combs, her room gilded in gold, and her wardrobe full of expensive Doman garb. But Doma Castle had been sunk, entirely her fault, so that was a wash.
Besides, not like being a servant afforded her any luxury, with the measly payment Hien gave her so her servitude could not be called slavery. It seemed even Hien refused to stoop as low as to have slavery in any form, even for convicts. Perhaps a response to Garlemald’s continued conscriptions.
Hells, she would even be paid a stipend on the battlefield, though it still came from Doma’s budget. Much to many of the citizens’ grumbling. And yet, it meant she could buy a few things, if she minded her money. A lovely Bozjan-make blanket to keep her warm at night. A ceruleum water heater that Cid kindly provided at the right price. Hair ointments and products, traded among the ladyfolk of the camp. Not so many had known Yotsuyu like the people of Doma did, so many were open to socializing, to talking.
It was the most normal Yotsuyu had felt in all her thirty long cycles. That very idea shocked her, but it shocked her less and less each sun.
And slowly, she began to know the camp better. To know the people that frequented it. She noticed how certain people reacted to others. How some womenfolk snickered behind others backs, not unlike how village life had been for the scant few summers Yotsuyu had known it. What a bother. She refused to gossip when someone came to her with poison dripping from her lips.
Better to be known as a spoilsport than for people to further her reputation for being poisonous herself.
With another sigh, Yotsuyu fussed with her hair, stumbling back towards a tent. Though the sky covered itself in clouds, she still longed for a little shelter. Perhaps she could sense it would rain soon. She’d always been a bit more attuned to the changing weather after her little primal experience.
And as she predicted, it began pissing rain. She watched as some soldiers ran back into camp, some staying out in the quagmire to hold their positions. A sick sadism rose in her chest, that similar feeling of watching people scurry like ants. At least she could blame the rain for it and not herself.
As Yotsuyu watched the camp become busy again, a few knuckles brushed against her head. Looking up, she caught the one person in camp she could consider a ‘friend’ looking down at her, a small smile playing across her lips.
“Enjoying yourself?” Misija’s soft yet warm tone brought joy to her heart, as she sat up a bit straighter.
“Just a little. I think most people enjoy being under shelter when it rains, no?”
“Heh, I enjoy the rain, little flower. How’s your gunplay going?”
“As well as it can, I suppose. I admit, seeing one of those ‘Blades’ makes me a little jealous, but I enjoy what I have. Still shoots just as well as any other damned expensive gun.”
Misija’s expression soured for a moment, before she laughed. “Oh, you’ve got it right then. I couldn’t care less for a fancy blade, so long as mine does the job cutting things apart. Or well, shooting in my case. In that regard we’re very similar, no?”
Yotsuyu laughed as well, giving a small nod. “Indeed. Who needs to cut things when we can just shoot it, eh? More effective against ninety-nine percent of all nasty things skulking around in this battlefield.”
Both shared a conspiratorial smile. Though Yotsuyu knew not then how conspiratorial things would get.
The next time Yotsuyu ran into her new-ish friend, she found Misija being pushed around by a few of the Gunnhildrs’ Blades, her stomach immediately roiling with icy, boiling anger.
She’d taken a small break from Gangos as Lord Hien was entreating some guests from Limsa Lominsa, and had requested she be there to serve dinner. While she didn’t prepare it (another maidservant usually prepared the food), it had become a bit of a Doman show of power to have the former Witch of Doma serving on hand and foot. While the prideful part of her wanted to be insulted beyond belief, the current Yotsuyu only saw Hien protecting her from a fate much worse than having to serve people their dinner. She could’ve easily been executed once power changed in Doma. Being at Hien’s beck and call could easily convince others that she was completely harmless.
She didn’t see Misija’s comrades protecting her from a poor fate by shoving her around.
Rage burned against the ice that usually balanced it, overcoming her usual icy demeanor as her teeth grit, almost in a snarl. Marching forward, she only came to a sudden halt as Misija met her eyes, giving an almost imperceptible shake of the head.
“I don’t regret what I said.” She spoke up, turning to Mladen, who’d just shoved her. “You call yourself a Blade of Gunnhildr, but you can barely keep your blades in good condition on the battlefield. What will happen if it breaks while you’re in the middle of a fight? You’re a leader in this entire operation– if you fall, so does the rest of your squad.”
Mladen let out a gruff sounding grumble, shaking his head slightly. “It’s not your business what I do with the blades.”
“I argue it is my business, since I’m the one who suggested we reforge them. I won’t control how you fight, but you must treat those weapons with respect . The former warriors who wielded them passed on, and their memories live on in your blades. You all care so much about our past, so why forsake it?”
“Heh, that’s rich coming from you.” From the side, Tugeim’s lip curled. “You weren’t even deemed skilled enough to wield a blade yourself, so why should we listen to you prattling on about it. They’re weapons, girl. Ones we’re meant to use to their last sparks.” She towered over Misija, despite them both being Roegadyn. “We’re not putting them in a museum.”
“And I don’t expect that of you.” Oh, Yotsuyu knew that face. A face she’d worn so many times. A face of barely contained fury. “But I do expect you to at least return to camp sometimes so you can get them repaired.”
“Oh, you worry too much Misija, really. We’re trained soldiers, we know what we’re doing!” Isolde stepped in, a small yet nervous smile plastered on her face. “Besides, most people’s weapons won’t break that easily- I’ll just make sure I bring my bow in often, and that Ratimir brings his gun as well.”
With a sigh, Misija’s expression softened slightly. “Thank you, Isolde. I apologize, but I just don’t want to see any of you troubled on the battlefield.”
“Psh, as if you see much of that damn thing yourself.”
Yotsuyu’s head whipped towards Turgeim, the woman’s face twisted in an almost malevolent way. “After all, Bajsaljen and Marsak didn’t think a prljavi prosjak like you deserved a Blade, hm?”
Despite not knowing the language, that most certainly was an insult. Throwing herself forward before Misija could throw the punch she seemed waiting to send, Yotsuyu put her hands up between them.
“ Enough . Are all of you childish enough to resort to petty squabbles when you don’t get your way? It’s basic army maintenance to keep your weapons in good shape. And it’s basic politeness to not control what someone does with their weapon. Even if they’re a stupid Garlean ‘samurai’ trying to slice up some meat for dinner. So stop arguing.”
After a few more grumbles, the group dispersed, and Yotsuyu followed after Misija, the woman’s pale white skin now a burning red. Her fists clenched so tightly at her sides that Yotsuyu could see how those powerful knuckles flexed. With how Misija’s gun rarely recoiled, it only made sense. She turned a corner in the camp, then slammed her fist against the rocky wall of Gangos, letting out a barely contained scream through her teeth.
“...Are you alright?” Yotsuyu chanced, after a few tense moments.
“...No. I’m not alright. I’m furious. They get to call me a filthy fucking beggar and I have to stomach that? I have to refrain from hitting them just because my efforts got them all shiny new weapons? And I didn’t ?!” Slamming her fist into the wall again, chunks of the rock dusted out, crumbling to the ground. “It’s the fucking caste system all over again! Ohhhhh, I’ll step on you because your parents weren’t as rich or loyal as mine, you won’t mind because you’re no better than a piece of trash in the streets of Bozja! You’re made to be a stepping stone for my charmed life!”
Letting out an almost feral scream, Misija slammed both fists into the wall, along with her head. Thankfully, before she could cause serious brain damage, Yotsuyu yanked her back, with all the strength she could muster.
“Stop, stop! You’re going to get yourself hurt!”
As if sense returned to her all at once, Misija blinked, her face turning red again for a whole different reason.
“Oh… oh Gods, Yotsuyu, I… I’m sorry. I don’t know what…”
“You don’t need to apologize. All I ask is that you take care of yourself, alright? Seeing you hurt yourself like that… I don’t like it. If you’re to fight alongside me on the Southern Front, you need to take care of yourself.”
“I… Yes. I do. I’ll be more mindful.”
“Good. But truly, I almost wish you had spoken your mind right then. What do you mean by caste system?”
Misija grumbled, rubbing her hands before shaking them out. “Exactly what it sounds like. Turgeim, Isolde, Mladen… they all would have technically been a higher caste than me.” She paused, swallowing slightly. “I was a slum child who earned a scholarship and went on to become just a little better than a beggar. My classmates despised me and my professors looked down upon me. The same seems to happen here. Not all of the Bozjan Resistance is a high caste, but a lot are. Many speak of leveling the field once the resistance has regained control, but… when people speak like that, it makes me unsure if their words are just honeyed. After all… you can see some of them don’t think I’m even intelligent enough to wield such an important weapon. It runs rampant through Bozjan society.”
“Heh, if that doesn’t remind me of anything.” Yotsuyu huffed, blowing a piece of hair off her face.
“...It does?” Silvery eyes widened, looking at her. Even under that intrepid gaze, Yotsuyu only puffed up, instead of shrinking down.
“Well, yes. I was the Witch of Doma, but I had a reason, you know. Women in Doman society were treated as chattel in some regards, if they were just commoners. Though, I suppose the noble women had their own woes. I married for the first time and only time at age thirteen. I was but a child, expected to clean the house, make dinner, buy household goods… and serve my husband’s needs.” Misija’s face soured at that mere mention, eyes narrowing. “And when he passed on, leaving me a widow, my ‘family’ forced me into a brothel, where I suffered for the mere crime of being a woman. It was only once Zenos yae Galvus met me that I was freed. And even then, I was under his thumb, not as a woman, but as a Doman amongst Garleans.”
“...I never realized. We didn’t hear much of Doma’s struggles here, when we had our own revolutions ongoing.”
“It’s not your fault for not hearing. I’m just saying… I know your struggles more keenly than you may realize. We’re both underfoot of empires that care little of the smallfolk. At least for me, Lord Hien outlawed child marriage and required an education for children. If you fear things won’t shape out the way you want… well, at least I could bring you back to Doma with me, eh?” She grinned, giving a small, cheeky wink.
At that, Misija’s face turned a bit more pink, before she shook her head, regaining her bearings. “A lovely thought, but for now I’ll serve the resistance, as I must. Shall we go to the front to see what we can get done?”
“Oh, gladly.” And as they set off to the airship, Yotsuyu trailing behind Misija’s towering back, she could see the tension slowly drifting off her, melting away with the shared experiences of a friend.
And only a few suns later, Yotsuyu truly began to understand the depths of Misija’s rage at her position. Lucero had taken to teasing her about their growing friendship, but Yotsuyu herself only could chuckle along, before goading him into the age-old joke about endearments, calling Zenos immediately to his side. Like he could judge her when she knew Zenos would go flying through multiple walls should Lucero even utter the word ‘honey’.
She had , admittedly, been looking for said woman, so Lucero really could tease her all he wanted. But when Misija couldn’t be found at the mess tent or the airship landing, and no pilot had taken her to the front yet, she found herself physically and metaphorically scratching her head. How strange…
So she started poking around uncommon places. The barracks, the kitchen tent, Bajsaljen and Marsak’s planning tent… nothing. With a sigh, she parked herself on a barrel for a moment, trying to think of where the woman could be. Gangos wasn’t even that big a place! Ruffling her hair, she looked around the camp once more, before catching a flash of white retreating deeper into that tunnel near the walls of Gangos. Now what could Misija be doing there?
Curiosity plucked at her nerves, before she stood, creeping over to where she’d seen Misija disappear. Curiouser and curiouser… She could hear the woman speaking softly, not in tone, but definitely in volume. If Yotsuyu didn’t have such honed ears, she’d likely have heard nothing. Chancing getting a bit closer to the mouth of the tunnel, she leaned against the wall, trying not to draw attention to herself.
“Yes, on top… Alemuc Climb… placing another so close by… if you want to catch… then… yes. I’ll keep you posted. I’ve been gone too long already.” The words echoed down the tunnel, a few so quiet to be missed, but she got the gist of it already, at least. “Yes sir. For the glory of the Empire.”
Those six words made her stomach drop, face immediately paling. Oh no. Gods, why did Yotsuyu always end up entangled in this sort of nonsense? Had she egged this on? No, it sounded like Misija was already familiar with their customs, with the standard delivery of information, of how frumentarii had to convey their results without being caught… Gods dammit . She couldn’t run away now, Misija would surely hear her without a pearl in her ear.
She could only confront this.
At least it had been Yotsuyu that caught her. Anyone else would have no chance of getting through to her. Her comrades would see her gibbetted for turning traitor, or being one all along. Her leaders wouldn’t know what to do with her, at least for fear of disturbing her plans and ending up not knowing what the empire would do. Taking a deep breath, Yotsuyu prepared herself, before moving to stand in front of the tunnel. Misija would notice her when she so chose.
For a few moments, she could see Misija still facing the back of the tunnel. Perhaps she did this every time, wondering if she was making the right decision. Steeling her resolve. Yotsuyu had been like that in the early days, her thoughts swirling around her mind in a tempest. Did all the people she’d grown up around deserve to suffer under the yoke of what Garlemald would do to them? Would the girl who gave her extra peaches deserve her husband being conscripted and killed? Would the old grandma who taught her how to mend survive the fires of war? Yotsuyu had told herself in those moments that everyone who turned a blind eye to her suffering– nay, contributed to it– deserved to suffer just as she had, if not more.
That had been her folly, to punish everyone, not just those who really hurt her. Her parents. Her brother. Her husband. Her owner. Those people deserved the hatred Yotsuyu had nursed within her breast for a long, long thirty years. Not the smallfolk of Doma who couldn’t fight back against metal and machines.
At least now she had the clarity of mind to recognize that, if even a mind at all instead of being dead. She would not let Misija make her mistakes and chance a painful, unsatisfying, ugly death.
From one forsaken woman to another.
“Misija.”
The woman whirled around, eyes wide and face like a ghost. Her teeth grit in fear for a moment, before she tried to school her expression best she could.
“Yotsuyu? What are you doing–”
“I heard everything.”
Misija’s tentative expression dropped, utter bafflement taking over everything instead. She didn’t know whether to be angry, to be scared, to even be sad. But slowly, anger began to color her features, as she stepped forward.
But Yotsuyu raised a hand, as if to halt her.
“Wait. Before you decide you’re going to silence me yourself, you should hear me out.”
“...What?” She blinked, stepping back a moment. Her curled fists immediately loosened.
“You thought I was going to just taunt you about knowing ‘everything’ and run off to Bajsaljen? Running through camp as if I have a tiger on my heels? I don’t do stupid things like that, and you know it yourself. No. Instead, I’m going to tell you something. Last time I told you about myself, we ended off where Garlemald took me in.” She raised her eyes, staring Misija straight in her own.
“They are lying to you. I’ll say it again so it can truly sink in. They. Are. Lying. To. You.” At those words, Misija flinched. “No one in Garlemald will ever see you as an equal, as they claimed they would see me. Zenos treated me ‘fairly’, as he did with the Crani Lupi, and with those who proved useful to him… But I was just an exotic pet, and a whore to the rest of the legion. Do you think I was truly happy under their rule, even as a Viceroy? No. I simply had a nicer place to wallow in the pools of blood created by my wounds.”
“...But… but Noah van Gabranath isn’t Zenos yae Galvus.” She grit out, unable to meet Yotsuyu’s eyes for a few moments. “Zenos is a man dedicated to one thing- bloodshed. He merely was tamed for the fact that your Warrior of Light gives him what he wants. He never cared for statehood or for creating a society like Gabranath does. The IVth legion is fair . No matter if you are a pureblood or a conscript, you have a chance to rise up–”
“And yet, your goals don’t align with Noah’s, do they? Why else would you recommend recreating the Blades of Gunnhildr over everything else? You could have chosen many more ways to sabotage the Resistance. Many more, less dramatic ways. No. You have a deeper reason for doing this, and you will tell me.”
Her face twisted in confusion, eyes darting along the ground as she tried to ponder. Misija’s lips pursed, eyes scrunching slightly before she let out a deep breath, shaking her head.
“There’s no point in lying or running away from you. But are you going to go tell Bajsaljen after this, or what?”
“I have no reason to betray your confidence. If I am to tell him anything, it would only be in your favor. What sick joy would I get out of betraying a fellow woman being used by Garlemald?”
Misija blinked a few times at that, before letting out a small chuckle. “You… make a good point. I admit, I’m in so deep that I fear my own plans may fail. Quite drastically, in fact. I had originally planned to kidnap Mikoto, but that would only be a bargaining chip against the Resistance. I’m not foolish enough to do that now. You want to know what I’m after?” She raised her arms in a shrug. “Simple enough, the same as you did. Revenge.”
“...Revenge? For how the Bozjans treated you?”
“Something like that. I was certainly treated second-class, as you saw before, but it goes deeper than that. You’re not obligated to believe me, but after tracing my lineage, I found I was descended from the last Queen Gunnhildr, who was betrayed by her own Blades. I thought it too poetic to pass up, and those fools bought repackaged nostalgia hook, line, and sinker. Their own Queen Gunnhildr would betray her blades, just as they had in kind.”
“...Oh my gods.”
“A fitting end to an unfinished cycle. I know what I want to do is evil. Brutal, even. But I can see it happening again. There’s no place for me in this society if the Bozjans win. But I suppose… There is no place for me in Garlemald either.” A sad, sweet smile took over her features, those silvery eyes just a bit more shiny. “After all, you’re the Witch of Doma, and even you were forsaken. What hope is there for me, just another loose end?”
“...What hope there is, is that I refuse to allow Bozja to become a self-serving empire once again. I am certain Lord Hien also holds my views.” Yotsuyu began, lingering in that moment of despair just a bit too long. “What hope there is, is that we drive Garlemald out of these lands, and then we rebuild a new society where people can be equal. It’s already beginning in Doma– Let it begin here.” Now she knew why Hien had sent her of all people here. Poetic indeed.
And with eyes pleading, wanting to believe, and yet not, Misija stared at her. Perhaps she could not yet believe that things could get better, even if marginally.
Yotsuyu only wanted to prove her wrong all the more with that look.
“Listen to me, Misija. Someone once before offered me a way to escape the hole I was trapped in. Someone dear to me who cared not for how his friends would see him after he practically betrayed them. Let me offer this to you.” She offered out her hand, eyes more steel than gray. “Stand by me, let me guide us, and you will have the shape of revenge you desire. Or at the very least, you can stand against the Blades and make them shrink for treating you poorly this whole time.”
She eyed the hand for a moment, so small compared to her own. Lily white, with callouses and a firm grip. Her own revenge, personal, spiritual, mental, came with barbs that she had always regretted. The kind face of Mikoto, who looked at her without trepidation. The warm smile of Lucero, who knew not of Bozjan hrothgar and their castes. Bajsaljen and Marsak, treating her properly as a soldier, not showing favoritism to those who ‘ranked’ above her socially, rewarding her merit with her rank.
Without hesitation, Misija took Yotsuyu’s hand, shaking it.
“I’m counting on you for the shovel to get me out of here.”
“Count on it.” She replied, with a determined smirk to match. “Now, let me tell you everything before you go running off.”
In the quiet of night, as the humidity began to weaken in preparation for the morning’s dew, yet the heat remained stagnant, Yotsuyu slipped into the officers’ planning tent. She’d usually just call it the Bajsaljen and Marsak tent, but they were the officers, so it was their war room and planning tent. The two were still awake even late at night, as the rest of the camp slept.
So thankfully, no one would hear the betrayal she was to reveal.
“Bajsaljen, Marsak.” She spoke up just a bit as she pulled the tent canvas aside, poking her head in. At this time of night, the two were burning their lamps and working on strategies for the coming skirmishes, how to cut off the enemy and push them further back into their territory.
“Yotsuyu? What brings you here at this bell?” Bajsaljen dropped his quill, standing from the table. Marsak flicked an ear, turning his eyes towards her.
“Excuse me for intruding, but this matter is of great import. You may wish to be sitting down for this. And I also beg you to keep this in confidence, so we might be able to ruin the IVth’s plans.”
Exchanging a look, the two then nodded, and Bajsaljen sat back down. “This sounds quite serious. What have you uncovered?”
Taking a deep breath, Yotsuyu spoke again.
“Misija is a Garlean spy for the IVth legion. I caught her relaying information on her linkpearl, and I confronted her.”
Both men were silent for a good few minutes, Marsak’s jaw dropping, and a cloudy look coming to cover Bajsaljen’s face. He brought a paw to it, burying his face within. The silence grew thick, so much so that she could see Marsak cutting it with his gunblade if it grew much more painful.
“...We will have to take action, quickly.”
“Before you do, listen to the rest of what I have to say.” She raised a hand towards Bajsaljen, lowering it as if to motion for him to calm down. “The Resistance is not in danger, not now. We’re making a change of plans as it were. Misija is willing to become a spy of the Resistance until her cover needs be blown. And it will have to, considering what the Garleans are planning.”
Both exchanged a look again, before Marsak spoke up. “Continue.”
“The original plan was for Misija to kidnap Mikoto Jinba, then to take the blade Save the Queen to summon Queen Gunnhildr as an eikon. Then, she would temper the Blades, and use the power of Gunnhildr to retake the Southern Front. However, if we wish to demoralize the Garleans after we retake Castrum Lacus Litore… there is another option.”
“...We could pretend that all those events transpired, then, and catch the Garleans off guard by resisting their next big attack. They think they’ll sweep towards the camps, but instead, we’ll be able to attack them in return.” Marsak spoke, as if he didn’t believe the brilliance of the plan itself.
“Indeed. And there is more– we have the potential to lure the IVth’s leaders into an area unknown to all but those associated with Misija– A place called Delubrum Reginae.”
“The ruins of the old Bozjan kingdom?!” Marsak jumped up from his chair. It fell to the ground, making a muffled noise against the sand. “I… sorry.” He shrunk down a bit, forgetting their secrecy for a moment.
“...Misija knew of that place?” Bajsaljen added. His eyes were wide, chin tilted up towards her.
“You think she’s just summoning Queen Gunnhildr for kicks? No. I can tell you the rest of the story later, but this is supposed to kick off in two suns. We’ll need a plan quickly. Just as well, I can pass on the echo, so when she summons Queen Gunnhildr she’s unlikely to temper people. Believe me, I have experience with that sort of thing…”
“...Wait, the rumors…?”
“Are true.”
“You summoned Tsukuyomi and survived…” Marsak’s mouth hung open again, before he shook his head, regaining composure. “Well, you certainly are the expert on this, then. Come, sit down for a moment– you’ll need to be a part of planning this as well, since you know what Misija told you.”
“As for Misija herself… well, we can’t give the Garleans any indication that she’s gone rogue. For now, the situation will be normal… but we will inform the Blades before anything goes into action. On the off chance Misija loses control, I am not losing my people to a primal.”
“Believe me, I don’t want to either.” She took a seat at that table, somewhere once forbidden, if only due to rank. Her hands skated across parchment maps, looking over little figurines to show where troops would go. “So, let's figure out how to keep things in our control.”
And with a nod from each, they began to dive into their new plan.