GW2 fic, 99-105

[anghraine]

 

I couldn’t think, couldn’t afford to think, could only follow the overpowering instinct that said protect Ebonhawke, protect our people.

title: pro patria (99-105)
verse: Ascalonian grudgefic
characters/relationships: Althea Fairchild, Scout Leader Tahiri, Elwin Fairchild, Wade Samuelsson; Commander Varalyn, Fallen Angel Makayla, Trillia Midwell, Sergeant Manthony Porter, Champion Mad Bombardier; Althea and Tahiri, Althea and Elwin, Althea and Samuelsson
stuff that happens: Althea and Calissa practice together, and Althea faces an attack from an unexpected source.
chapters: 1-7, 8-14, 15-21, 22-28, 29-35, 36-42, 43-49, 50-56, 57-63, 64-70, 71-77, 78-84, 85-91, 92-98

NINETY-NINE

1

“Calissa Tahiri,” said our aunt, “are you out of your mind?”

“Not a duel to the death,” she said, still brightly. “Don’t be ridiculous, Aunt Elwin. But I’ve been itching for a challenge that’s not just tactics and numbers, and I’m sure Althea has, too. Isn’t that right?”

Both sets of deep grey eyes fixed on me.

“I, well …”

2

“Yes,” I said. “Definitely.”

“I knew it,” said Calissa, slouching into the place beside me on a chaise, and slinging her arm about my shoulder. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt her too much.”

“You won’t hurt me at all,” I told her.

She laughed. “That’s the spirit!”

3

“I see that Divinity’s Reach hasn’t leeched the Ascalonian out of you, coz.”

“As if it could,” said Aunt Elwin, more than a little disdain in her voice.

They both looked pleased, however, and I felt that way myself, finding myself among people I knew and cared about, who expected confidence and welcomed defiance.

“Well, some of Devona’s old clothes should fit you,” Calissa said, squinting down at me. “So you don’t ruin these ones.”

She released my shoulders and we both leapt to our feet, but Aunt Elwin cleared her throat in a way that immediately stopped us in place.

“Dinner first,” she said, “duels later.”

4

At dinner, I belatedly realized that I had no idea what to say to them; we exchanged letters so often that nothing could be new.

Calissa suffered no such burden.

“I’ll be back on duty the day after tomorrow, but of course, it’s different now,” she said. “We’re working with the Charr, if you can believe it.”

“It’s hard to,” I said honestly.

“They have their own renegades that we take on, but usually not this far west,” she said. “It’s mostly ogres now; since the Charr all but pulled out of the area, ogres have swept in and claimed the vacant land.”

5

“Each day,” she went on, “they push in and claim just a little bit more. Well, another day, another threat. That’s the life of a Vanguard.”

I tried not to look too envious. If not for the dragons, I’d join in an instant. Fighting real threats, for Ascalon! It made the maneuvering and politicking back in Kryta seem like nothing.

6

“I can only imagine,” I said. “The Vanguard must be stretched thin.”

“In places,” Calissa allowed, “but we’re managing. It’ll be better now; I think we’ll be able to look after ourselves.”

I nodded. But before I could reply, Aunt Elwin said sharply,

“Maybe now that Queen Jennah and her Fallen Angels are busy with the truce, they’ll leave us alone.”

My brows rose.

7

“We are the ones who built Ebonhawke—we know what’s best for our city.” My aunt paused a moment. “I don’t mean you, Althea: not our own people. But the Fallen Angels walk around here like they’re the leaders of the Ebon Vanguard, when they’re just glorified Seraph. They say they wear black to honour our dead, but the Queen’s army will never know our sacrifice!”

I thought of Shaemoor, and the little villages and forts struggling against the centaurs, and Falcon Company; but I thought of my life in Divinity’s Reach, too, secure within its walls, and my aunts’ and uncles’ and cousins’ graves out here.

Three of them marked the last remnants of Aunt Elwin’s children.

ONE HUNDRED

1

“We’ve been fighting for humanity for the last two hundred years,” Aunt Elwin continued, fingers clenching on her fork. “She helped us when the Brand was created, and I’m grateful, but we don’t owe her our allegiance.”

“True enough,” said Calissa. “Sorry, Althea.”

In Kryta, a word against Queen Jennah had infuriated me; here, I stopped to think.

“Jennah is my queen,” I said slowly, then lifted my eyes to my aunt’s. “That doesn’t make her everyone’s.”

2

Aunt Elwin looked approving, Calissa relieved.

From there, the conversation moved to less fraught subjects. We talked of varying relations and their children on both sides of the Asura gate, and compared Calissa’s adventures with the Vanguard to mine as hero of Shaemoor. They were different, but had more commonalities than we expected.

“A massive threat that needs to be stopped and no resources available,” said Calissa, laughing. “One of these days, they’ll give us challenging assignments.”

I grinned back at her, and didn’t say anything about the Advocate of the Crown—or the Order of Whispers.

3

After dinner, Aunt Elwin sighed and released us from her presence, so Calissa and I ran off to the Vanguard training corner together. The commander there gave us permission to practice, as long as we helped with the trainees.

Calissa went easy on me the first time, her arrows—practice arrows—flying far astray. She didn’t even reach for the sword strapped to her back. Mildly insulted, I focused my magic to a bolt of aether that flung her off her feet.

“Come on,” I said.

Calissa groaned.

4

She scrambled up with dirt streaking her blonde hair and one side of her face.

“All right, then.”

I prepared myself for more arrows, perhaps actually shot in my direction; instead, Calissa seized her greatsword and ran straight at me, barely hindered by the images I cast before her eyes. She slashed this way and that, destroying clones almost as soon as I cast them, beating away at the sword I raised to defend myself. I barely managed to snatch up my staff and launch her away from me, buying a few seconds.

I finally unleashed a little storm of chaos magic, but I was so unsteady that the last swing of her sword caught me off-balance; she cut a notch into my staff and I crashed into the wall.

Calissa lay crumpled under the wave of magic.

5

Then she lifted her head, beaming, while I reached for the wall and boosted myself up, not counting all the bruises I’d have the next day.

“That was a tie, right?” said Calissa.

“Um, yes?”

She jumped up. “You are good. Again?”

“Again,” I said firmly.

6

All in all, we fought seven rounds under the eyes of wide-eyed trainees, until we finally collapsed together, lying side-by-side and grinning.

“We should go help the trainees,” I said, without moving.

“But the ground is so comfortable,” said Calissa.

We both considered the night sky. I’d won more bouts, but narrowly; I really should practice more, the way I used to do with Anise.

“You need to try my sword,” she told me. “I bet you could handle it.”

7

“I could cast through it,” I replied, “but I’m not sure I could lift it.”

She scoffed. “If you can handle that staff, you could handle a sword. Come on, try it.”

“Tomorrow,” I said, and wearily clambered to my feet, helping her up as I rose. “If you want to try again, that is.”

“Absolutely,” said Calissa.

ONE HUNDRED AND ONE

1

We had enough energy left to spar with the trainees, whom we easily trounced, slowing down to show them each step and motion for a good two hours. Commander Varalyn gave us an appreciative nod as we headed back home.

“Do you have any plans?” asked Calissa. “You’re not a Fallen Angel, so …”

“No,” I agreed. “I’d be Vanguard if I were going to be a soldier, anyway, not Seraph. But I want to help our people, and Ebonhawke seemed the place where I could do the most.”

2

Even in the dim lights of the lanterns illuminating the streets, I could see a thoughtful expression overtake my cousin’s face.

“Aunt Ailoda says you’re good at talking people into things. Are you good at talking them out of things, too?”

“Perhaps,” I said. “I’ve already talked down some Separatist sympathizers. Is that what you’re thinking of?”

“They mean well,” said Calissa, “but it’s dangerous talk.”

3

I frowned. “Ebonhawke is a free city, isn’t it?”

“As free as Divinity’s Reach,” said Calissa. “And how does it go there when people talk about overthrowing the queen?”

Now I faltered. “Well—”

“The Separatists have declared themselves enemies of the Vanguard,” she told me, “and we’re treating them that way.”

4

“Oh.”

“I’ve seen them attack completely harmless citizens,” she went on. “Just for … existing without fighting Charr, I guess. And there’s enough anger here—at the Charr, at the queen, even at the Vanguard—that it’s easy for them to find recruits. It’s our job to thin their ranks, and we’d rather do it with words than swords.”

“I can do that,” I said. Enemies of civilized discourse were one thing; enemies of the Ebon Vanguard—of Ebonhawke itself—were something else.

5

“One of the Vanguard officers asked me to tear down the posters,” I said. “I wasn’t sure—what about that?”

Calissa looked blank, then laughed. “Oh, you mean the stick figures of Charr eating human babies? I wouldn’t waste your time on those; new ones go up as soon as anyone pulls them down, and it looks like the Separatists are more interested in recruiting deserters than artists, if you know what I mean.”

“I noticed,” I said.

“It’s pretty noticeable.”

6

I hesitated, then said, “And I thought—I wasn’t sure, but while Separatists are one thing, I don’t think people have to be either supporters of the treaty or enemies of the state.”

“Oh, absolutely,” said Calissa. “I mean, Devona’s still livid over it. Lots of people are. They’re not the problem. You’ll know the ones to quiet down when you see them.”

The two I’d talked to so far had run up to me, a perfect stranger, to air their grievances; I supposed it wouldn’t be that difficult to distinguish those from perfectly reasonable Ascalonians.

7

“What else?” I asked.

She looked at the ground, brows knit, then lifted her gaze, chewing on her lip.

“Now that I’ve seen you fight,” said Calissa, “I’d say that you would do the most good beyond Ebonhawke, out in the new settlements. There are all kinds of dangers out there, without anything like the Hawkgates to close them out. We could use help with the ogres, especially. But be careful—I could never look Aunt Elwin and Aunt Ailoda in the eyes again if I got you killed.”

“I’m always careful,” I said.

ONE HUNDRED AND TWO

1

We spent the morning poking about the city, Calissa in civilian dress, talking with sympathizers and trying to help them see reason. Once, we’d just done so when we passed by a Fallen Angel who seemed to have some authority. She gave a respectful nod as a would-be Separatist wandered off.

I stepped forward. “Are you having any trouble with those sorts?”

“Not immediately,” said the Angel, “though there’s more than a little if they go further than talk. But most of them are good folk who’ve lost their faith in the queen or can’t let go of their hatred of the Charr.”

2

My cousin and I both agreed, though Calissa looked suspicious, and when we passed by an hour later, the Angel smiled outright.

“I’ve heard some ex-sympathizers talking,” she said. “They’re starting to have more faith in the treaty and Queen Jennah.”

Calissa twitched.

“Thank you for helping bring some peace, Lady Althea, Lieutenant Tahiri,” said the Angel.

As a Seraph, she might well know my name already; still, it felt a little strange that Ebonhawke seemed to have learned it faster than Divinity’s Reach.

But then—Ebonhawke wasn’t Divinity’s Reach.

3

We returned to the Fairchild manor for lunch; I’d barely started eating when a note arrived. To my surprise, it was—presumably—from the Fallen Angel from before, who seemed to have reserved herself in Calissa’s dampening presence.

Queen Jennah was wise to anticipate that Ebonhawke would need assistance during this transitional period in our relationship with the Charr , she wrote. But I doubt even the queen could have guessed that this kind of aid would come from someone like you—someone who, without living here, recognized what harm could come with neglecting such delicate social issues.

I didn’t imagine that Queen Jennah would be surprised at all, all things considered, but it was a nice thought.

It was not, however, one that I wished to share with my relations, who no doubt had low opinions of Queen Jennah’s push for assistance. When Aunt Elwin and Calissa looked inquiringly at me, I just said it was thanks from the Fallen Angels for talking down the sympathizers.

4

“They didn’t send one to you, Calissa,” Aunt Elwin remarked.

Calissa shrugged. “Althea did most of the talking.”

Afterwards, my cousin insisted on returning to the training pit to practice again, this time carting along a second greatsword with her. I hardly knew how to hold it, but I gamely did my best, holding off Calissa’s patient attacks while trying to cast through it. I finally gave up on wielding the thing and instead held it aloft with magic, concentrating aether as I would through my staff.

The sword was far less focused, however, and at first I hit training dummies more often than I did Calissa—until I finally lost patience and just launched the sword at her.

5

Calissa blocked the sword but staggered back into a dummy.

“Kormir’s eyes, Althea,” she said. “Learn how to use that thing and you’ll be a terror.”

I summoned the greatsword, watching it spin in the air as the purple flickers of my magic carried it back to me. Perhaps I should. Any weapon I could use might be advantageous to me—and I’d never been one to turn away an advantage.

“Let’s try again,” I told her.

6

Afterwards, we worked with the trainees for several hours. Then we parted; Calissa saw a friend of hers, while I was busy figuring out how to repair the Vanguard equipment from Divinity’s Reach.

In the meanwhile, a group of skritt came out of the nearby tunnels, chattering as they tried to steal the equipment; I helped drive them off with Calissa’s greatsword, then finished repairs as quickly as I could. It must have been satisfactory enough; between the assistance with the trainees, the equipment, and the skritt, Commander Varalyn was effusive in her thanks.

“Hundreds of people flow in and out through the Asura gate,” she said, “but few show the kind of selflessness you’ve shown. You had no obligation to assist the Ebon Vanguard, but when you saw our need, you stood up to help. Thank you for easing the burden on our city.”

7

“I hope others follow your example,” she concluded.

I flushed.

“It was my honour to help the Vanguard,” I said earnestly. “I only hope to do more.”

Varalyn, with a glance at the greatsword, took me at my word, and gave me the names of two Vanguard officers who could direct me onwards. I seized the opportunity, leaving a note for Aunt Elwin and Calissa, then hurried back towards the Hawkgates.

It was time to prove myself a true Ascalonian.

ONE HUNDRED AND THREE

1

I had scarcely headed off towards the gates when I passed a woman whom I guessed to be a fellow noble, to go by her clothes; she kept her hood up, but the cloak and skirt were very fine.

I nodded at her as we approached each other, and she peered down at me.

“I don’t trust you,” said the woman flatly. “You stink of Charr.”

In an instant, I shifted from resolute to furious. How dare she suggest—how dare anyone—I could feel my jaw tighten, and my hand twitched towards the sword at my waist.

She was a stranger, I reminded myself; a madwoman, for all I knew; and we stood near the heart of the city.

2

I clenched my hand into a fist, away from my weapons.

“And good morning to you,” I said, and continued on my way.

Later, I realized that I should have guessed from her presence that something wasn’t right. At the time, I simply frowned, trying to think of what about me could give the impression that I felt the slightest sympathy for Charr—or, really, could give any impression about how I felt about Charr either way. Perhaps she’d recognized me by reputation and it had something to do with talking down Separatist sympathizers.

Then I shrugged her off as plainly unreasonable, striding towards the marketplace. I could do with some fruit before venturing into the unknown.

3

I’d scarcely turned down the street that led to it, however, when I heard explosions somewhere ahead of me and distant shouts. Had talks fallen through this quickly, and the Charr broken the cease-fire—or—

I turned a corner, and saw people—all human—running about the market, some taking cover, others fighting each other, and bombs haphazardly exploding. I’d barely taken it in when a Vanguard officer came running up to me.

“Separatists have the market under their control,” he said breathlessly. “My men are trying to get in, but they’re getting pinned down by grenade assaults from the rooftops. We'll need help if we're to rout them.”

4

My eyes widened. I knew Separatists were a major problem, that they could turn violent, but somehow I’d never imagined facing them in a fight.

“I’ll help,” I said promptly.

Together, we ran towards the marketplace, my spells letting me keep pace with his long strides. Now I could hear the voices more clearly.

“How can you sell and shop while Charr roam free on Ascalonian soil?” a man screamed at a shivering merchant, waving his sword in his face.

Without thinking, I blasted him off his feet.

5

The Separatist flew into the air and crashed next to another Vanguard member, this one fighting two other Separatists. She didn’t hesitate; she lifted her shield and ducked down, knocking my Separatist aside and then slashing at the other two—one of them danced back, but the other gave a cry of anguish as her blade cut through his flesh.

I ran towards her, swerving to guard her back and casting shields as quickly as I could on every Vanguard I saw. I might not be able to keep track of them all, but that was the whole point of magic, particularly chaos magic. And this was nothing if not chaos.

Not wanting to risk exhausting myself, I drew my usual sword and entered the fight in earnest, the clang of metal and the screams of terror and pain mixed up with the explosions that Vanguard and Separatists alike had to evade.

I couldn’t think, couldn’t afford to think, could only follow the overpowering instinct that said protect Ebonhawke, protect our people.

6

The Separatists were my people, too, but—don’t think, don’t think. I darted around the market, swerving between one fight and the next. Someone was laughing, and I was so busy dodging and blocking and casting that I couldn’t trace the sound to its source, until I swung around to see a Separatist on a roof lifting a bomb.

“Have you forgotten what the Charr did in the Searing?” he shouted down at us.

For a moment, I faltered. No—but none of us had, we just—no, we couldn’t listen to their nonsense, we just—

“Let us remind you!” screamed the bombardier, and he threw a bomb nearly at my feet.

7

I flung myself out of the way and cast a wave at where I’d stood, aether knocking everyone there well out of the way. But by then, the fight was winding up, the Separatists’ resolve breaking—some had started to run, and a few had lowered their weapons.

“Fight for your land! Fight for your ancestors!” screamed the bombardier.

Suppressing a shudder, I kicked a Separatist away from me and channelled aether into him until his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed onto the cobblestones. It was a painless death, but not all had been; when I glanced down, I saw dirt and blood splattered over my skirt.

Ascalonian blood.

ONE HUNDRED AND FOUR

1

I kept fighting after that, right until the end, but it was pure instinct governing me, right until the last of the Separatists surrendered. Then I stood still, looking blankly around myself.

I’d fought many battles over the last year, both large and small, but this reminded me of nothing so much as my first, at Shaemoor: the sheer chaos and horror of it. But at Shaemoor, I’d rushed forward to protect Ascalonians, and here—here, I’d—

I looked down at my skirt again. I’d killed them. In Ebonhawke.

2

“That’s the last of them,” said the Vanguard who’d recruited me into the fight, his tone flat. “Thank the gods.”

I nodded, my thoughts still whirling, and he sighed.

“It’s a sad thing, to have to fight your own people,” he said, looking around as his soldiers dragged away the bodies of the dead, while others led the surviving Separatists away.

I found my voice. “It is.”

“I think I knew one of them,” he went on.

3

I hadn’t.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I hadn’t realized that they came so far—I mean, I’d heard, but—”

I was babbling.

The Vanguard looked more closely at me.

“You’re a Fairchild, right?”

“I—yes.”

4

Somehow, my family’s reputation preceding me felt different in Ebonhawke than it had in Kryta. At the same time, it didn’t seem to matter very much.

“Someone should tell Commander Samuelsson about what happened here,” he said. “My men and women have their work cut out for them here—would you mind tracking him down?”

“Yes,” I said, and then—“no, that is, I don’t mind.”

He gave me a sympathetic smile.

“Do you know what he looks like?”

5

“Yes,” I said.

We all knew what Wade Samuelsson looked like.

He gave me directions, and I took off running, relieved to have something to do—perhaps offered to distract me, but nevertheless a necessary task—and somewhere to go. Nobody seemed to pay much attention to the young woman in stained clothes rushing through their streets; a certain level of internal upheaval was plainly usual. I knew that already from my family here, of course; it just felt strange to experience it myself.

I found him—at least, I was pretty sure it was him—in a farm towards the south end of town.

“Hello,” I said inanely.

6

“Good morning,” he replied, glancing around himself. “Hard to imagine this farm was the site of a bloody battle two hundred years ago.”

It wouldn’t be hard to imagine it today. I opened my mouth to say as much, but hesitated.

“We still find bones and bits of weaponry when we dig for crops each year,” he went on.

“Find anything interesting?” I asked, suddenly unsure I’d found the right man.

“Dug up a blackened Charr skull,” said the man.

7

Huh. Well, good for some unknown Ascalonian refugee in the past.

“That was more unsettling than anything,” he remarked, “but a friend of mine found a rusty shield. Not worth anything, just a bit of history, I suppose.”

“So,” I said, “what do you do out here, when you’re not digging up relics?”

“Not much,” said the man. “Just run the Ebon Vanguard.”

ONE HUNDRED AND FIVE

1

“Wade Samuelsson, commander of the Ebon Vanguard,” he said, “at your service.”

“Then you’re the man I’m looking for,” I said. “There’s been a Separatist attack in the marketplace.”

His easygoing expression instantly hardened, and he’d already turned to go when I added,

“It’s under control now. I fought them myself.”

“Any casualties?” he said.

“Some—mostly Separatists.”

2

He sighed. “They’d be invaluable if they could turn their conviction to helping the living instead of the dead.”

“The dead can’t be helped, only honoured,” I said.

“Exactly. Well, come with me.”

With a small gesture, he headed out at a brisk walk; I nearly tripped over my skirts trying to keep up.

“You’re Krytan, I’m guessing?” said Samuelsson, in perfectly conversational tones.

3

“Ascalonian,” I replied, more sharply than I intended. “But I’m a Krytan citizen. How did you know?”

“You have a slight accent,” Samuelsson told me. “Sounds like Divinity’s Reach.”

As we strode through the city, he received the occasional nod or bow; if I hadn't known better, I would have thought I'd imagined the attack in the marketplace.

“It’s my home,” I said.

4

“But so is Ebonhawke. I was born here.”

“Even if you weren’t,” said Samuelsson, “this is the last of human Ascalon. Every Ascalonian has the right to call this place home. Even Separatists, if they’d stop attacking their fellow citizens.”

I managed a faint smile. “Good to know.”

5

After a pause, I said, “You seem casual, for … what you are.”

“I wasn’t born to be a warrior,” he said easily. “I’m just a farmer. I joined the Vanguard to make sure our farmlands would be safe. Turned out I had a knack for giving orders; before I know it, I’m the captain.”

I looked up at him; despite the horror of the battle and what I’d done, I felt a distant trace of amusement.

“Is that so, your Grace?”

6

I knew perfectly well, as most Ascalonians did—certainly most noble ones—that his family descended from the kings of Ascalon. Faren’s and mine did, too, but the Samuelssons were the nearest living kin to the old kings, and Wade Samuelsson the heir to his house. If we’d held onto enough of Ascalon to merit the title, he would have been king himself. Instead, he was Duke of Ebonhawke, the closest thing we had to royalty.

His Grace, Wade Samuelsson, Duke of Ebonhawke and Commander of Ascalon, gave a short laugh.

“I do own a farm,” he said.

“Several, I imagine.”

7

The duke just inclined his head.

“And I’d bet you do have a knack for giving orders,” I added.

Without responding, he said, “But who are you? Not everyone would know who I am.”

I didn’t bother correcting him, but instead, thought through the replies I could give: Lady Althea of Divinity’s Reach and Ebonhawke, or the hero of Shaemoor, or Advocate of the Crown of Kryta, or—well, I wasn’t going to say Initiate Fairchild.

In the end, I cheated.

“I’m Elwin Fairchild’s niece,” I said.