Snippet #2790819

located in Fódlan, a part of Fire Emblem: Apotheosis, one of the many universes on RPG.


A continent divided into three different factions: The Adrestian Empire, The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and the Leicester Alliance.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mercer von Riegan Character Portrait: Cyril Eisner Character Portrait: Vridel von Hresvelg
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I.Y. 1186 - Harpstring Moon - Monday the 5th
The Great Bridge of Myrddin - Afternoon - Cloudy
Mercer von Riegan

Mercer rolled out his shoulders, letting out a satisfied breath of air as he felt them pop. He'd been going at Failnaught almost nonstop. Training with a relic was slightly different than training with a regular bow. The weight was completely different, and he hadn't used it since they'd left to Duscur. That was a few months ago, now. Even the slightest break in using a relic like that was going to be a bit strenuous. He didn't mind the extra work, really, but he was trying to take his mind off of the strange letter he'd received. At first, he thought it was Bergliez finally contacting them, however; the contents of it all were... strange.

He couldn't even make sense of it, really. He knew it was a threat, and it was calling him out specifically. He knew by the contents alone that it was Gloucester. But what did he hope to acheive with that letter? For all intents and purposes, Mercer had appeared to be an idiot in his youth. That was to throw his enemies off, though. There were few people he trusted, back then, to know who he really was, but now... he tucked the letter away in his pocket and shook his head. He had called a few of his friends to meet him in the command tent so he could show them the letter, so that they would know that Gloucester was, at the very least, planning something.

He wasn't going to keep things from his friends; not anymore. He needed them as much as they needed him, possibly more. With that in mind, he opened the flap to the tent, and made his way towards the table. Those he'd asked to meet him, hadn't arrived, yet, so he took the opportunity to slump into his chair, arms spread out as he sat half-way up in proper posture.

Teach and Vridel arrived together—Reynard was out on a scouting mission and probably wouldn't be back for another day or so. They both took seats across from him, Vridel arching a white eyebrow in query. “You look like you've seen better days. Something we can help with, or is this a 'you complain, we listen' kind of problem?"

“Ha, I forgot those things actually happen," Mercer replied smoothly, as he chuckled. He didn't bother sitting up properly in front of them. They were all tired, in a sense, and he knew they didn't give a damn about whether or not he sat properly. “And I think it might be something you can help with," he started, producing the letter from his pocket, and setting it down on the table. He pushed it towards Teach and Vridel, though, and sighed.

“It's from Gloucester. I know it is, even if it's not signed," he began, running a hand through his hair. “I'm not stupid enough to fall for it, but he's trying to make it seem like he wants a one-on-one duel with me. A way of ending this side of the war, for good." Mercer didn't exactly know what Gloucester was planning, but he wasn't going to leave that to chance. He couldn't risk it.

“What the fuck?" Vridel's tone was flat; he read over the letter with a look of vague incredulity, but clearly he was making all the same inferences Mercer had. Sighing heavily, he handed the thing off to Teach and grimaced. “Uh, stop me if he's always been like this but does he sound a little... unhinged, to you as well?"

Mercer nodded his head. “Fun little history lesson; Gloucester wasn't always like that. He was more level-headed, more rational. This makes it seem like he's lost all... sense of what's around him. It's like he's living in some weird fantasy of his own making, but..." Mercer couldn't be exactly sure. Gloucester had been a bit of a philanderer in his youth, and almost five years ago, but this was a different Gloucester. Had the roundtable conference five years ago, really unhinged him that much?

“All the more reason to be careful, I suppose. It might be that we have to change our initial strategy," though that wouldn't be too likely. They knew what they were up against, after all.

“It sounds from the tone of this as though he'll very much target you should you take the field against him," Teach observed, folding the letter along its original creases and handing it back to Mercer. “I don't really like the idea of giving him what he wants. I'd ask if you want to sit this one out, but I already know what the answer is." He smiled, then, only slightly. One of those subtle expressions that had always characterized him.

“Still. You should be careful. If he's really unstable and after you... it's hard to know what lengths he'll go to."

“Exactly," Mercer couldn't have agreed more, honestly. “I'm not as stupid as I look, I promise," he grinned slightly, flashing teeth as he did so. “After everything we've all been through," people dying, and then coming back to life. Finding people who were thought dead... it was a lot, Mercer thought. “I'm glad I have all of you back. Every. Single. One of you," he stated, glancing between Teach and Vridel.

He didn't know how much time Vi had left, but he was still glad for the man's companionship. It was going to suck when Vi finally did die, but... Mercer would deal with it when the time came. Instead, he sighed softly, and ran a hand through his hair. “I think we could use that to our advantage, though. If Gloucester is as unhinged as he's making himself out to be, then it would mean that he won't be thinking properly when we finally meet him on Gronder." Of course, there was always the possibility that it was the complete opposite.

Maybe Gloucester wanted them to think he was unhinged. Make them think they had a chance against him during the battle, and turn the battle around. Mercer wasn't going to let that happen, so he was going to be careful, regardless of the situation.

“It'd be nice, wouldn't it?" the wry tone of Vridel's voice indicated some irony. “If he was so off the rails that his strategy went right out the window? Still... I've never left anything to luck, and something tells me it'd be a bad idea to start now."

Teach nodded slightly. “I'm sure we'll get a better idea as we make the march. The condition of the villages between here and there is bound to tell us something, at least."

Mercer nodded his head. He hoped most of the villages would be unaffected, however; that was a kind of naive hope he couldn't afford. “Always listen to your first instinct; never the wrong one in my experience," he replied to Vi's earlier statement. “Hm, and I agree with Teach. The villages will tell us what we're dealing with, soon enough. I knew I could always count on your counsel," he stated, grinning just light enough in Vi and Teach's direction.

“I'll need it, really. Helps keep me grounded and all," he added.

“Right, because on your own you're just ridiculous," Vi replied with a roll of his eyes. “Can't count on you to be reasonable to save our lives. Literally."

Teach snorted softly. “Anyway, thanks for keeping us updated. Have you got more to do or would you like to go have a drink? I hear a few of the local taverns have opened up again after the battle." There was, in fact, a small village not far from the Myrddin garrison, which had been liberated in their recent attack.

Mercer laughed at Vi's statement, and nodded his head. “Sure, let's go have some drinks for old time sakes. Maybe we'll even get Teach drunk this time. If I recall, correctly, it was pretty hard to do the first time around." Mercer grinned in Teach's direction.

“You'll both be unconscious before I'm drunk."