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Black Falcon & Strega: Final Arc
#21
A trio of lilies, laid before a trio of graves at a dilapidated and forgotten cabin in a lonely, misty wood.
A bellflower, laid before an unassuming grave behind an unassuming structure.
And a single rose, laid before one grave among several in a hidden grove.
 
A cultured young lady stood upon the balcony of her borrowed abode, staring up into the sky with a single cigarette rolling unlit between her fingers.
"Now what?" She asks the clouds overhead, they give no answer.
 
Three, four years? Somehow it felt like no time at all, and yet at the same time, it felt like her entire life had been devoted to this conflict since the beginning. More had died than she had taken the time out of her schedule to mourn. Now, the yawning abyss of possibility that lay before her in her newfound freedom was more confusing than welcoming.
 
War becomes a part of people who dive too deeply into it. She pinched the cigarette between her fingers. She remembered giving her word to stop fighting when it was all over. But those she gave her word to never made it to the end of the conflict. In her heart of hearts, she was keenly aware that violence was now at the very center of her nature. Yet the future ahead was not paved by obvious conflict. It confused the noble girl.
 
A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. She could at least be proud of who she was at long last. Her accomplishments were nothing short of extraordinary. Her forbearers and family name would know the honor of her great battles and deeds. Despite how proud she was of herself when it all started, that naïve girl was nothing but an embarrassing memory now. No longer was there a need to hide her face behind a helm. Furthermore, in amusing irony...The large profile of those who had tormented her granted her the means to save her family in their defeat. It was just a matter of making sense of taking action without bloodshed.
 
The unlit cigarette was flicked over her shoulder, down into a nearby bin. After everything else that was thrown her way, she could handle that. She was a Mercalan, a noble, a sibling. She had a responsibility to.
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#22
As I walked through the halls of Arjav, a few hours after everything... My mind wandered. A rare sight. A rare event. I don't often think too much. I'm not troubled by thoughts at all. They're only entertainment for me. But this time it was different.

I tried my best. I tried to wrestle against a fate worse than defeat.

Surviving.

What's the point of surviving? It's so much different than winning. A victory would entice everything ending well. But no. I survived, survived, cemented on sacrifices of people I didn't want to lose? I don't know what's wrong with me anymore.

People have always said I was a little desensitized, that nothing had ever managed to get through my mind. I could look at adversity, welcome it, make it suffer for existing with a huge glee. It felt good, really good. Simpler times. Not that I was okay from the start. A body-snatching monster like me with a taste for violence?

I was broken from the start, yet I was kept tight together thanks to the people around me.

Then. One after another. These bindings became loose, if not completely torn. All thanks to them. One after another, they were gone. My men. My friends. My fellow citizen I often hang around. All either taken, or irreversibly scarred by something that now once is gone, doesn't feel rewarding at all. It doesn't feel like I'm honoring any of them.

Ironic.

The unbreakable shield maiden, donned from neck to feet in dark plating. Unable to stand infront of her allies. Unable to be there for them. To save them. I feel like I utterly failed them.

When I returned "home", carrying Eiael and Varen... hoping they would make it. Only to be hit by the realization that it was a lie. A huge lie I made and intoxicated myself with, in blind hope it'd be a little true.

Worthless.

The memory is still vivid. I raised my fist, my shield and preached we would be coming back alive, that we'd have Varen's favorite coffee on the way back.

I stared at the empty spot. I saw myself being there with them. Varen, Eiael, Furuta, Julien. The others around, Clementine, Diego, Lowe, Akiyoshi, Lilly, Brunor, even young Thyme... just laughing it off, making silly jokes, drunk to shit. Fumbling pathetically. Already making plans for the next day where we'll 'bap the criminal scum' and 'hate doing long patrols', the usual chatter.

Only to notice the table was empty, and I was standing before it. Something warm dripping from my eyes, my vision going blurry a few seconds and back. It was hard to keep it in. It felt like my heart was bleeding from my sight.

I dried them. I forcefully swallowed this horrible sensation of guilt trying to suffocate me. It happened. I could only ignore now, right?

Time to continue on. I'll keep doing a good work. These thoughts are only going to trouble me.

I resume patrolling the fort, making sure everyone is in line. I spot someone begin unruly. Nothing but a little scare to make them remember their place would do, so I begin
[Image: unknown.png]


A job well-done. He's crying in the ground, promising he'll never do it again. It's surprising how good I've gotten at it. Time makes experience, as they say.

On to the next one I go...

And keep doing it.

Did we always have this many people in need of a little scare? I get a little thoughtful, absorbed in it. I only come back to when I notice.

Oh.

Around five fort guards are restraining me with all their might.

I'm a little bloodied. Did I get hurt at a point? One of these criminals I've been scaring into behaving might have had a shank with them. This is awful. We'll have to make sure they're thoroughly disarmed, but the other guards keep buzzing in my ear things that I couldn't really make sense.

I'm getting a little upset. Or well. Would be. Until Steve stood before me and decked me across the face.

What a drag. He's always so straightforward with his methods. I told him that's not the way to go, hypocritically of course, haha! Ouch, though... This stings. He didn't hold back that one bit. What made him so desperate?

Oh. It seems Akiyoshi is calling me along the other First Squad members still in one piece. I wonder why? Maybe it's good news?!

Ayla Redfield, the Imperial Captain, has been gone since then.

Some well-informed people may know they're in Chaturanga, and have been there for an extended time. Not clad in armor, not with her firearm, but as a mere citizen. For some reason, much, much more violent than the Chatarans who knew them do remember them being. She was always bloodlusty, but this time? That seems to have an extra weight over her shoulders. Symptoms of PTSD most likely.

The only few capable of interacting with them are militants of the Chataran Army, with luck, sense or physically outdoing them. But for the most time, they seem to be waking up, visiting certain places, eating the same food, and going back to their home.

What a well-deserved vacation for a victorious hero!
[Image: ht_pudding_the_fox_04_mt_140821_16x9_384.jpg]
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#23
And some time had passed...

An atypical priestess had eventually felt the need to put thought to paper.

The scrap of paper:



I do not remember how long it has been. Weeks? Months? It does not matter I suppose. Yet, my mind keeps wandering back to that day at the Godly Stage. To the needless deaths. To my own actions.


Even with the Church's aid not being requested, I could not help but find myself in Alstalsia standing among the adventurers. Among them but not one of them. Had I a morbid sense of humor, I would surely be laughing still. To visit the Godly Stage, a near life-long dream I could only achieve by posing as an adventurer. Yet again.


With the medical tents set up and waiting, I still found more cause to charge up the mountain with the others than to stay behind and tend to the wounded. And at the top, what did I do? Next to nothing.


I could not bring myself to face Cornelius Schlager directly. I do not know why. Was it fear? The sense of hopelessness from facing an enemy I knew I would never be allowed to spare? How many lives were lost because I was unable to act?


Days later, where was I? I was behind my desk doing the paperwork no one else wanted to do, surrounded by nurses who would rather stand around gossiping than perform their one job, prescribing salve to a stupid child who decided to try swallowing a fireball.


I am not a healer. I was never blessed with Her healing gifts. Complex surgeries are beyond me. I cannot care for a patient on an emotional level, they are simply another person with a problem that I am tasked with correcting.


My oath to myself will never be fulfilled if I continue to work in half measures. I cannot persist in pretending to be something I am not.


I will keep this note on my person as a reminder of this revelation. This revelation realized through many lives lost and an act of great sacrilege by one foolish man.

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#24
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Several weeks after the final showdown with Cornelius concluded and has died down since, Taneal Greyshoulders stands [i]in contemplation, with
in a quiet part of Cellsvich where the original old clock tower used to stand. Whilst finding herself away from the final showdown and unable to make it personally due to her own dire matter with a friend, her role has not been forgotten, as with so many others. In Voilegaurd, silent respect and more than a few thank-yous when she visits. In her current home of Lispool, a peaceful and thankful bastion ensured by her continued loyalty to peace and quiet and her own faith to Mercala, amusing as it is for her own reasons. Visited graves of those who did not make it and paid respects. Her name, while fairly commonly known, has been added as yet another annal in the smaller but important footnotes of Imperial and indeed, world history. For her part, she is humble throughout and says little, as is her nature but reflects privately on it with a strange fondness, considering all the pain and misery she has endured throughout.[/i]

Taneal has also returned to find her friends alive and well, and her newfound daughter safe much to the relief of all. To them, she now stands and continues to swear by, and them her.

It took years, battling the Falcons and their masters. Indeed, she had much help and now stands briefly by the former foundation of the tower now because of them, remembering that fateful day long ago when they burned her city and most of her family to the ground. From that point forward, she had a purpose, a drive. And drive ahead she did, rebuilding her family and friends along the way and learning from more than a few mistakes. Now soul searching, one wonders what her plans are next in the grander scheme of things. Only time will tell...


Taneal speaks softly into the evening air, as the sunset retreats to the embrace of the first stars above.


"Well, Aria. We did it. Our city is safe and stronger than ever. A shame the tower didn't make it, I do miss the sunsets together."

She chuckles.

"I miss you terribly and wish you were here to see it. Were you here, I think you and Lia would be my two closest friends. Alas, I have to settle for just one of you."


No answer apart from a small breeze, but it is just as well. She doesn't seem to mind that much and again, chuckles. Then she grows still and sighs, the stars now appearing in all their splendor.

"[i]Thank you for helping me see who I am deep down. Were it not for you, none of us might be here. When the time comes and it is time I pass through the Veil, we will speak again someday and watch the sunset together before we venture into the Maze."
[/i]

[i]She offers a silent prayer to Mercala, thanking her for giving her the strength to continue bearing the weight she still carries for the rest of her days, and rewarding her struggle with the virtues of family and friendship, rather than hate and conquest the Falcons and her direct forebears emulated. It is a good feeling, one that brings her peace in the middle of the chaos and uncertainty the days ahead now lie before all.

Humming a childhood song only she knows, Taneal walks away, leaving behind only her song before it too, vanishes into shadow.
[/i]
A hunting cat stalks the pouncing cat with care.
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