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Places in Fire Emblem: Apotheosis

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Fódlan

194 posts · 10 characters present · last post 2019-11-13 06:47:47 »

         

I.Y. 1186 - Garland Moon - Friday the 20th
von Riegan Manor - Morning - Hot
Cyril Eisner


Cyril was well aware by this point that Mercer ran a much less formal house than most nobles, so when he took a seat on one of the small sofas in the office, he didn't even really think about it before putting his feet up on the low table in front of him, keeping hold of his cup of tea on the arm of the couch. He'd made some for the meeting, thinking that it had been rather too long since he'd done that for anyone. Inspired by the garland even now nestled in his dark hair, he'd made an excursion to the gardens and gathered some of the ingredients for a relaxing floral blend of flavors, which seemed to be the order of the day when dealing with troublesome nobles.

Across from him, Reynard did much the same on another couch, pulling one elbow up to rest over the back of the furniture. Vridel took a chair, crossing his legs beneath him and settling his cup of tea on one knee. Sorcha sat comfortably on the arm of Mercer's chair, looking as she always seemed to these days faintly troubled. Thea had taken a seat next to Vridel, holding her cup of tea with a small smile. Senka, as she usually did, took a seat in the same sofa where Cyril was.

“So," Vridel said after everyone had whatever food and drinks they wanted. “Not to ruin the mood or anything, but... what exactly is our plan for getting the Roundtable Conference to supply us with soldiers?"

It was the question of the day, really. Without the support of the whole Alliance, they couldn't hope to retake Faerghus. Going in with the numbers they had, especially after the costs of that last battle, was just asking to be crushed. Cyril knew he was good at strategy, but even he'd be hard-pressed to find a chance of victory embedded in that scenario.

“That is a great question; I'll get back to you on that," Mercer muttered as he frowned. He took a deep breath and shook his head, though. “I could just tell them to do it. They'd have to, more-or-less, do it but I don't want to be an asshole about it. The point of the Roundtable Conference would be to convince them that freeing Faerghus would be beneficial to everyone in the long run. The problem with that, though, is that they couldn't care less about what's going on, there. Now that the Alliance is free from the Empire, they're going to want to stick to themselves and try to recover."

“They do realize that if the Empire takes Faerghus, that they'd just come back to the Alliance to reclaim it, right? They'd be able to focus all of their attention on the Alliance without Faerghus holding them back, and that's to say nothing if they managed to add more troops to their army," Senka stated, her brows furrowing slightly. Mercer sighed heavily.

“They do realize that, but I don't think they're really considering it something that'll happen. I don't think they realize the severity of the situation, yet."

“Wonderful," Vridel murmured darkly into his teacup.

Reynard pursed his lips together. "So the thought is, they need incentive," he murmured. "Some reason that will motivate them to throw their lots in with us of their own free will, and danger that seems distant isn't going to do it."

Cyril did his best to suppress his distaste. Mercenary though he was, it should be obvious to these people that their incentive was that it was plainly the right thing to do, and the only thing that, in the long run, would guarantee the safety of their own hides. But no one ever believed danger was headed their way until it was upon their doorsteps, apparently, and it would be here again if Faerghus was not saved. “So if we can't appeal to their self-preservation, we've got to pick the only instinct stronger," he said.

"Their greed, yes. That's what I was thinking. But there doesn't seem to be much to offer."

“Yes there is," Sorcha said quietly. “There's Faerghus."

Vridel's brows knit; he paused in the act of taking another sip of tea. “In what sense, Sorcha?"

She sighed heavily. “I mean... I'm marrying Mercer anyway. Whether anyone in Faerghus likes it or not, I'm also the only person alive with a Crest of Blaiddyd, and that's what decides who's in charge of Faerghus. I... if saving my country means uniting it with the Alliance, then that's what we'll do. And by the time all the rebels who supported the Imperial invasion are weeded out, there will be entire territories without leaders, and negotiations to undertake for who that land falls to. Faerghus will owe the Alliance a great debt for its liberation. And the dance of property unification and political marriage can start up again. I've met the roundtable Conference. They all think they're the smartest person in the room. They'll see it as a golden opportunity to make themselves richer and more important."

Senka's brows furrowed lightly, but it was easy to see the concern on her face. “Are you certain, Sorcha?" she asked softly. “It is your home, after all. If it is something you wish to do, I will support you as will my uncle, but..." she trailed off. Mercer's brows were furrowed heavily as he regarded Sorcha.

“I'm a little inclined to agree with Sen, there. Faerghus is your home, your country. You had plans for it. We can find another way to appeal to their sense of greed. Like you said, Faerghus will owe the Alliance, but it could be that you give up some of the lands, not all of it," he spoke.

“It should still be a consideration, though. If Sorcha really wants to do that, then we should keep it as something of a back-up plan in case Mercer's not able to convince the other nobles," Thea stated, holding her tea in both hands, now.

Vridel looked troubled, but Sorcha shook her head faintly. “Everyone's plans are basically dead in the water at this point," she murmured. “Including mine. If you can make it work without that promise, then that's fair. But if you have to offer them Faerghus, don't hesitate." She fell silent, looking into her teacup with an expression of intense concentration.

Cyril supposed it made a certain amount of sense. She'd still have a major part in the governance of a united territory, after all, and her marriage to Mercer might well make them the King and Queen of the northern half of Fódlan. It might make some of her planned reforms more possible, all things considered, and it was hardly as though too many people would be left to protest. He could see the wisdom, even if it did seem... drastic.

"I suppose we live in the kind of world where some people turn into dragons, and others have the souls of gods, so perhaps we do need to think a little bigger," Reynard mused, shaking his head faintly. "Even if it's... staggeringly difficult to comprehend sometimes."

Mercer huffed slightly, but nodded his head. “Yeah, well... if I have to make that an option, I suppose it's one to keep," he stated, leaning back a little into his chair. He rubbed the sides of his temples as if to relieve them from some stress before he took his cup of tea. He took a sip of it, before placing it back down.

“I still have a week before the Conference, though. Maybe before then we can just try and convince them that liberating Faerghus is the best option we have if we all still want to live," he spoke, though he didn't sound so hopeful about it.

“Anything is better than nothing, though, right?" Thea stated, her lips pursing into a fine line. There was a small furrow in her brow as she glanced at Vridel for a moment.

He grimaced a little, reaching over to straighten the garland on her head, which was slightly askew. The touch was tender; Cyril shifted his eyes away from it. Though he knew it wouldn't be taken that way, it felt a little like intruding on something private. Expelling a breath through his nose, he reached for Senka's free hand with his own.

“We have to consider the Empire, too," he said. “This war will not be over until Volkhard is dead, and I highly doubt he will do us the favor of appearing before us anywhere but in the heart of Enbarr. They need to understand that—that victory isn't anything less than wiping that man from the face of the world."

“Now we're just asking Mercer to do impossible things," Vridel said, still frowning.

“Yeah, this is true. I'm not the one who died and came back to life, after all," Mercer replied dryly, glancing in Cyril's direction with a rueful smile. “But on the bright side, I'm not doing it by myself, so you're not asking just me to do impossible things. You're basically asking yourselves, too. We're all in this together; I just happen to be the one you idiots named leader," he added, grinning slightly as Thea rolled her head.

“If we're idiots, what does that make you?" Senka asked, squeezing Cyril's hand as a flicker of amusement crossed her face.

“Oh, that's easy. I'm the Leader of the Idiots, so that makes me, kind of, King Idiot," Mercer replied, causing Thea to chuckle.

"It's a miracle we're not all dead," Reynard said flatly. A few people laughed, and the conversation naturally shifted to lighter matters for the moment. There would be time enough to worry about the rest, too, but right now, it was at least relatively calm.

Cyril would take it.

Fódlan Owner: Nemeseia

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