Episode 12: Sealing, Part 2       Epilogue: Rising Star

Just a couple more soundtracks… we have Life Goes On for the conversation in Sacae and your end credits song is Dark Pit’s Theme! (and possibly The Mysterious Murasame Castle Medley for the wedding shenanigans)

And… I moved a bunch of things back to the previous chapter because this one was getting freakishly long SO GO CHECK THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER FOR NEW THINGS

I may edit this one and add a couple more details now that I’ve cut down the length a bit so stay tuned I guess.

Also I was going to put the other half of Ceniro’s backstory with Lord Garlent in this chapter, but it didn’t really fit. With the length, it definitely didn’t fit. So I’ll save that for the inevitable sequel.

 

Episode 13: Tomorrows

 

Pent and Louise had gone north, so they went west, as fast as they could. Ceniro wanted to make as much time as he possibly could before the Bern Army could regroup and come after them – because that was undoubtedly their next course of action, once they had dealt with Milton’s allies. Ceniro wanted to get as close to Lycia as possible before that happened. Then they’d head north through Lycia, into Etruria, and from there back to Sacae. It would take a couple months, but it would be the best course.

Of course, first he had to deal with the fact that everyone, especially him, was completely, bone-crushingly exhausted. They stopped after an hour or two, when it was too dark for anyone but Lyn to comfortably travel, and made camp a little ways off the road.

As soon as he sat down, he began shaking again, the hysterical laughter that he’d held in for a good portion of the day bubbling out uncontrollably. “Are you okay?” Lyn asked worriedly, kneeling beside him as he gasped and giggled and rocked back and forth.

He shook his head, the giggles threatening to turn into sobs. “I… I did it. I did everything… I set out to do… today. And… I’m tired.” Her arms went around him, drawing him against her side, and he clung to her with his good arm as he began to cry. Renee and Rigel were still watching Milton, and Kent, Fiora, and Florina were tending to their mounts, but Wil dropped what he was doing with the bedrolls – no tents tonight, it would only make packing up harder in the morning, and it wasn’t going to rain – and came over to rest a supportive hand on his shoulder.

“It’s all right,” Lyn whispered to him. “You can rest now.” She must have been at least as tired as him, and yet she was the strong one, comforting him, her small hands stroking his hair. Just like on the Dread Isle.

“Yeah, don’t worry about a thing,” Wil said. “We’ll watch your arch-rival for you, and there’s nothing else to take care of tonight.”

“Arch-rival?” Milton queried softly to himself.

Ceniro finally began to regain control of himself and turned to glance at him. “You must be wondering how I ever defeated you.”

“Yes,” Milton said, “but even more, I’m wondering why you risked everything you gained – lost almost everything you gained, except Reglay’s pardon – to save me from a just fate.”

“A just fate!?” Ceniro cried, pushing himself to his feet, away from Lyn, and stumbling in Milton’s direction. “You heard what Desmond was going to do to you! I know how much you value your dignity. Could you have faced that with dignity? Justice aside, is that what you want!?” He reached out and grabbed the front of Milton’s shirt, breathing hard, a stray hysterical tear still rolling down his cheek. Although Milton was no longer bound, he made no move to stop Ceniro, only continued staring at him. “Why would you choose a worthless death over a life to redeem yourself, or whatever you want to do with it?”

“Why do you care?” Milton demanded. “Is our antagonistic past so dear to you?”

“No… but…” Ceniro let go of Milton’s shirt and slumped to the ground. “I hate killing prisoners. I hate executions. I realize that sometimes it’s necessary, but if I can prevent it… I want to. I hate killing in general.”

Milton stared. “You are a tactician.”

“I know. And I killed today. My people all have killed many, many times, at my command. But I… would wish for it to be in combat, even though I’m always going to save my people. It seems… more fair that way.” He rubbed his eyes and sat up a little more. “I realize this isn’t coming out making a lot of sense. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long, long time. And yes, I’ve risked a lot to save a man who hates me and who I don’t care much for either… but if I just let Desmond kill you, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

“You are too weak for this lifestyle,” Milton said.

“No,” Lyn said. “He is stronger than most other people who live this lifestyle.” She looked at Milton. “Larks and eagles both fly high, but the lark is lighter and softer. Yet it belongs in the sky just as much as the eagle.”

Milton withdrew his gaze. “Whatever you say. I would say you should stop coddling him.”

“I would say you should shut your face,” Renee muttered.

“We should rest,” Kent said softly, having finished with his horse. “Even if the Bern Army is afraid of what we did today, they’ll still be sent after us.”

“They’ll be after us, no question,” Ceniro said. “We’ll never be able to show our faces in Bern again, certainly not Milton, but not the rest of us either. But we can live with that, right?”

“Certainly we can,” Fiora said. “We have plenty of work elsewhere on the continent.”

“Then let’s rest, and worry about everything else tomorrow,” Kent said firmly. “I’ll take first watch.”

“I’ll take second,” Fiora said. “Wil, can you take third?”

“Right,” Wil said, sliding into his bedroll and yawning.

Ceniro got into the bedroll beside Lyn’s and lay still.

But his emotions weren’t done with him yet. He’d killed. He knew that all his friends had killed dozens of people, many of them at his command, as he had said. The blood of hundreds was on his head, even if he’d saved his own people without fail. But he himself had never killed before and the three memories from that afternoon were etched into his brain and playing themselves over and over. Even if his arm was numb forever, he was never going to forget how it felt. Was it like this for all his friends? Did Lyn ever agonize over it? Did Florina? Did Eliwood?

Ah, he just needed time, he told himself. …But in the meantime, he couldn’t sleep and he could feel another attack of tears coming on. Everyone else was sleeping peacefully, as far as he could tell. Even concentrating on Lyn’s gentle breathing wasn’t helping.

After a while he dragged himself back out of bed and over to where Kent stood watch. Even the dutiful knight was having trouble keeping his eyes open, leaning on his lance. “Mmf. C’niro?” His voice was a sleepy mumble.

So was Ceniro’s. “Can’t sleep. Issues. Just gonna sit here for a bit.” He was vaguely reminded of a night three years ago when Kent was on watch and Ceniro had questions, but he didn’t ask questions tonight. Even Kent’s patience would be thin tonight.

“Mmkay.”

He pretended to be asleep when Fiora came on watch, but it was at least another hour before exhaustion finally overcame him.

 

They woke far too early for his body’s liking, but the sky was growing light and they wanted to stay ahead of the Bern Army. He stumbled along beside Lyn, head down, until finally Kent shoved him on his horse like a sack of potatoes.

He slept better that night.

They were making good time through Bern, as far as he could tell; they stopped a couple times to buy food from villages, warning them afterwards about the Bern Army. Once or twice they had seen wyverns behind them, but the wyverns apparently didn’t want to outstrip their footsoldiers so they were not in immediate danger. Ceniro still held out hope of making it to Pherae before they were caught.

His arm was beginning to recover, slowly, feeling working its way back down like half-frozen water trickling through narrow crevices in rock. Sometimes when they stopped to eat or sleep he poked it, testing it, trying to wiggle his fingers… and looking at the strange new scars he had that wrapped around the entire arm. Sometimes he got a really intense feeling of pins and needles, and when that happened he gritted his teeth, grabbed the upper part of it, and hoped it would stop soon. Rigel’s staff could only help so much, and after the second time it happened, he told her to save it for an actual injury. Just because he hoped they wouldn’t fight again didn’t mean they wouldn’t fight again.

They were still four days away from Pherae when a lone wyvern rider swooped down from the sky in front of them; at Ceniro’s order, Fiora and Florina let him pass. He didn’t look like he was going to attack. Milton actually looked hopeful for a moment, but when he saw it was not Rovenna, his face settled back into impassivity.

“What is it?” Ceniro asked shortly.

The wyvern rider had been unrolling a formal scroll, but at Ceniro’s question, shrugged and rolled it up again. “His Majesty King Desmond of Bern has decided not to pursue you for now, from his generosity and his gratitude, despite your crime of freeing the rebel traitor Milton, but you are no longer welcome within the kingdom of Bern. If you ever appear here again, you will be slain on the spot.”

Ceniro nodded. “I expected as much. Good to know. Good bye.”

“Uh… Good bye.” The wyvern rider looked confused, but took off again in a cloud of dust.

“Well, now we don’t have to push quite as hard, right?” Renee said.

“I suppose, but I’d still like to get to Pherae as quickly as possible. We can rest properly there,” Ceniro said, and they continued on.

 

After they crossed the border into Pherae, it wasn’t long before they saw the little white castle on its green hill. There were two knights he didn’t know on duty at the gate, but he only mentioned his name and one of them saluted and ran off. Ceniro blinked tiredly at them, but in a few minutes, Eliwood and Ninian appeared. “Ceniro, Lyn, my friends, welcome! I hear things went well with Lord Pent and Lady Louise. Congratulations!” He looked more closely at them. “And with the other thing as well, I hope?”

“Yes,” Ceniro said, managing a smile. “Eliwood, is it all right if we stay here and rest a few days? We haven’t slept properly in a week and a half.”

“Yes, yes, of course, stay as long as you want!” Eliwood said. “And you look like it.” He gestured to Ceniro’s arm, still sleeveless, still in the sling – although it was still getting better. The pins and needles were happening less often and he could wiggle all his fingers now. “Just a few minutes and everything will be made ready. But we’ll want to hear the whole story tomorrow, all right?”

“Of course we’ll tell you everything,” Lyn said, smiling. “Thank you so much.”

“Think nothing of it,” Ninian said softly. “If we visited you in Sacae, you would do as much for us. We’re friends!”

“Just a word,” Ceniro said in an aside to Eliwood. “That one man you don’t know is Milton. I’ll tell you why he’s with us tomorrow, but for now… can you have someone watch him? I don’t mean he needs a guard, but just… keep an eye on him. I don’t trust him yet.”

“Certainly,” Eliwood said. “Will Isadora do?” Ceniro nodded.

 

A real bed. An actual, real bed with a mattress and pillows – multiple pillows – and light sheets and thick, soft blankets. Ceniro threw himself backwards on his and sighed every drop of air from his body contentedly.

Then Lyn slipped through the door, closing it behind her, and came to tackle him. For a long minute they just held each other, relaxing in the knowledge that they were safe and they could rest.

“We should get married,” Ceniro said sleepily. “Then you can be in here without worrying what people think.”

“I already don’t worry about what people think,” she answered, just as sleepily. “But sure, let’s get married. Tomorrow?”

He chuckled. “I don’t think my mother will forgive me if she isn’t present. And what about your grandfather? He missed his daughter’s wedding, I don’t think he’ll want to miss his granddaughter’s. He doesn’t disapprove of me, right?”

“Florina and Fiora and Kent and Wil didn’t worry about that last year,” she retorted, but she looked like she was thinking. “Well… maybe my grandfather should come. I’m sure he approves of you. I love you, after all, so he should too. And Eliwood’s right here, we can invite him and Ninian and a few other people.”

“Like who?” he asked warily. “Hector and Pent and Louise? I think we’re getting too many people involved. We just wanted something quiet, remember? After what Hector and Louise did with the wedding last year… We’ll just convince my mother to leave Santaruz temporarily, bring your grandfather, and go to Sacae where no one will bother us.”

“You’re right,” she said, smiling. “I’ve always wanted to show my grandfather the plains.”

“I know you have,” he said. “Show him the land you love so much.”

“What about you?”

“I love it, but I love all of Elibe, you know that.”

“Mm.” She was quiet for a moment. “Well, we can pass through Dunborough on our way back to Sacae. You can convince her then. I hope it doesn’t take too much doing.”

“Anlie will help. She’s good at it. So I guess we’ll set a date for a few months from now. Just whenever we get back.”

“Sounds good,” Lyn said, yawning, and she snuggled into his side and fell asleep. He followed shortly after.

 

They arrived in Sacae a couple months later. Lord Hausen journeyed with them, meeting them in Caelin with a few guards and servants, and he gazed at the plains curiously. “So this is what Madelyn saw. It’s very… open. Very wild. …Very free. I can see why it appealed to her… Between the restrictions of her status and her proposed marriage to Araphen, this must have been very tempting.” He turned to Ceniro. “You will take care of my granddaughter, yes?”

Ceniro wanted to say that she was better at taking care of him, but there were formalities to be observed. “I will do so to the best of my ability, sir.”

“Well, then. That’s good. You’re a good young man. Your eyes say so.”

“Ah… thank you, sir.”

His own family had been with them since Santaruz, of course, and had taken some adjusting to keep up with the rest of them. His mother was a little bit petrified at being so far from home, so far from ‘civilization’, but she grew calmer when he showed her how sophisticated life in a ger really was, and by good fortune they hadn’t been attacked by bandits on the way. His sister was wide-eyed and smiling at everything, and she kept looking at the horizon. “It’s so big!” she said when he asked her about it, but somehow he didn’t believe that was the whole story. Drew was a bit nervous, but his father seemed to be taking it all in stride.

And of course Milton was still reluctantly in tow. The former knight had said little, even to Renee, during all their journey. Ceniro hadn’t thought much of it at first; he’d been tired, and then he had though Milton was just being himself, but Renee seemed concerned after a while, and that brought it to his attention. But what could he do about it? He knew how Milton fought, how he thought… that didn’t mean he knew him as a person. And he was quite sure Milton didn’t want him interfering.

But the more he thought about it, the clearer it seemed: something in Milton’s spirit had been broken by his final defeat at Armica, something that had always been made angry and competitive every time Ceniro had previously defeated him in training.

One of the things that Ceniro had always noticed about Milton was that he always managed to maintain control over himself and his tactics even when he was angry. When Renee was angry, her tactics fell apart, like most people. When Ceniro was angry, he’d start doing crazy things – which usually worked. Angry Milton’s tactics were generally the same as not-angry Milton’s tactics, which made him pretty much impossible to emotionally compromise. Which was part of what made him so dangerous.

But that anger didn’t seem to be there anymore, just a strange blankness that had even him worried. He’d saved Milton so he could redeem himself, not so he could go die again.

He told him so.

Milton glared up at him. “You think I am upset? About Armica?”

“I can’t think what else it could be,” Ceniro said defensively. “All right, why are you being… annoyingly inscrutable?”

“Since when do I display emotion to peasants?” Milton shot back. Maybe he wasn’t doing so bad. Maybe Ceniro should just leave him to sort his issues out on his own, instead of getting involved where he was clearly not wanted. He shrugged and turned.

“I am your prisoner, am I not?” Milton said quietly as Ceniro began to walk away.

He stopped and turned back. “That wasn’t really my intention.”

“Whether or not it is your intention, it is the reality. You defeated me. You took me with you. You place a guard on me, even if it is a loose one and you do not restrict my movement. I have no weapon. You said something about redemption when we first talked, but you do not trust me enough to begin this redemption.”

“That, and I’m not sure how to go about it,” Ceniro said honestly. “Would you actually join my group and follow my commands? If not, then I’ll cart you about until you do. That was my intention. I don’t trust you enough to leave you with anyone else.”

Milton snorted. “At least you admit it.” He was quiet again for a moment and Ceniro waited. “But do you think it is easy for me, to resolve myself to following the orders of someone I despised for so long? I’d sooner follow Renee’s orders than yours. You may have broken my pride, but it is not that broken.”

“I see,” Ceniro said, looking out at the vast wilderness of the plains, at the walls of cloud on the horizon. “I’ll give you more time, then.”

“Then I have another question,” Milton said, suddenly grimly intent on Ceniro. He could feel the other man’s gaze on him like a ballista bolt. “With your strength, your allies, your skill, why have you not taken power before now? Any power? You said that in a hundred years, no one will care what you did. I say to you that you are wrong. You have the power to make history. Perhaps you did, that day at Armica. Why do you not use it?”

“What would I use it for?” Ceniro asked, seriously, and sat down beside Milton, elbows on his knees as the other man was sitting, but he clasped his hands under his chin. “I know I could take over something big with force of arms. But does that mean I should? I think I should be responsible with my abilities, and that means not using them to rock too many boats. Unless I think it’s really important.”

Milton snorted. “And how do you determine that? Is the status quo of Elibe so perfect right now?”

“Maybe not, but I’m not going to just throw myself at socio-political situations either. Racism against Sacaeans, Western Islanders, and Ilians; poverty in Ilia; bandits in Bern and Sacae; how am I going to solve all these things? I’m a tactician, not a miracle worker.” He paused. This wasn’t something he had thought about quite as much. “You’re not the only person who’s ever taken or tried to take power with force of arms, and not even the only person who’s taken power with force of arms with more-or-less good intentions. But I still have faith in Zephiel.”

“Would you still, if it was your homeland?”

“I don’t know. But I’d probably try to work together with Zephiel in a more subtle fashion instead of replacing everything entirely.”

“Well, no hope for that now.”

“Besides, I’ve already changed history in my own small ways. I helped Lyn prevent her uncle’s seizing power, and I helped Pent find a special rock, and I helped Eliwood and Hector stop a madman. And now I’ve helped Pent seal away more power, to prevent it from being misused.”

“So you seal yourself away as well?”

“I’m not wasting my life or anything,” Ceniro said. “I’m just limiting the scale to what I think is good for me. Good for everyone. Like I said, people make things too complicated. I don’t want to be a player on an international level. I’m not suited to ruling, and I’m not suited to politics. I don’t envy my Marquess friends their positions. I don’t even envy Pent and Louise. So I’m just a mercenary captain.”

“And that is also a thing that makes you dangerous,” Milton told him. “No one can predict what you will do next. Living beholden to no master is not good, when you yourself admit you do not like politics. Your decisions affect many, when you decide something is important. Leaders of nations will be watching you carefully.”

Ceniro glanced at Milton. There hadn’t been any resentment he could detect in that serious tone, but he wondered how pointed that message had been. “Perhaps. But it’s not like I charge in blindly, either. I have my reasons.” He tilted his head. “Thanks for not suggesting that it’s my parentage that makes me unsuitable for doing all these grandiose things.”

Milton grunted. “You have proven yourself definitively my better in force of arms. Whether I like it or not – and you may be sure I do not like it – I must treat you as an equal now.”

“Good.” Ceniro stood and went over to the tent nearby, returning a moment later with a straight-edged Lycian sword. “Then you can have this.”

Milton looked at it and did not take it. “We have one civil conversation and you’re offering me a weapon? To be sure, it’s only an iron-class weapon…”

“Iron-class weapons are inexpensive, light, and surprisingly durable,” Ceniro said sternly. “Take it and be happy about it.”

Milton took it, though his face betrayed no change in emotion.

“And I’ll let you be under Renee’s command for the time being. You know, if I hadn’t been a mouse and you hadn’t been such an ass, we would’ve had very interesting discussions at Lord Garlent’s,” Ceniro said cheerfully.

Milton grunted again. “If you say so.”

 

As he recovered the use of his arm, Lyn made him take up swordfighting again, with a new sword. At first he didn’t want to even touch it, but she insisted, a little impatiently, and after a while he got over himself and did as she said. It was more difficult than before, although not for the reasons he’d expected. Unlike he had feared, he had no emotional trouble handling it in practice and sparring. It was a little stiffer than he remembered, and his grip felt different, but other than that it didn’t take him long to get back to where he’d been before.

But if he had to fight in real battle again…

Well, a worry for another time. For now, they had enough to get by until all the wedding business was done, which would be soon.

They had not heard of Rovenna or Vellith since they got back, and Rigel pretended not to be worried. But then she was distracted by a letter from her chapter of shaman in Khafti, informing her that she could return home. Apparently, the head of her chapter had never really trusted Vellith, and had sent Rigel out as a decoy. But, decoy or not, the investigations of the other shaman had come to nothing.

Rigel thought about it for a while, but ultimately wrote back with guarded words saying that her investigations had ended as well, but she intended to remain with Ceniro’s group, which made Renee very happy.

And then there was the day when Fiora disappeared mysteriously and Kent’s poker face was completely unbreakable. Florina also swore she knew nothing about what her sister was up to, and while she didn’t seem too worried, she seemed sincere, so they believed her. “Um, Kent’s not worried, so why should I be worried? She’s my older sister, and the best pegasus knight of them all! She’ll be back.”

 

It was a day in June, just past Ceniro’s birthday, in fact – he was now twenty-two – and the sun was shining brightly. Kent was helping Ceniro, and Florina was helping Lyn, to get ready for their wedding. It wasn’t going to be much – to say their vows in the presence of their families and closest friends, and then to eat and drink late into the night. Wil had been ‘helping’ as well, until Kent sent him away to go keep entertaining Lord Hausen and Ceniro’s family with Florina and Renee.

He’d finished getting dressed in fine clothes – Lycian, for once; Lyn would be wearing fine Sacaean clothes, symbolic of the joining of their cultures – and stepped out of his tent when he paused and looked at the horizon. “Fiora’s back. But…”

“Ah,” Kent said to the first part of his sentence. “But?”

Ceniro made room for Kent to step out of the tent as well. “She’s brought people.” He shot a suspicious glare at Kent, whose calm stoicism was faltering into a most uncharacteristic grin. “What did you two do…?”

“Nothing that you would have approved of, but we thought better to ask forgiveness than permission,” Kent said, turning his head aside to try to hide the grin.

Ceniro sighed. “Who is it?”

“If all went well… everyone.”

“Everyone!?”

The others glanced towards him curiously at his shout, but then they all turned to look at Lyn, who had just emerged from the main ger, frowning curiously at him.

He stared back with his mouth open. Her formal deel enveloped her, draping her from neck to foot in thick, stiff layers of silk, in her favourite teal-blue colour but heavily, heavily embroidered. Patterns and beads swirled in front of his eyes. Her hair mostly flowed free around her, fluttering in the wind and shining dark green in the sun; a headband held strips of embroidered cloth and shimmery golden strands of beads that framed her beautiful face and made tiny bell-like noises as she moved.

But underneath she was still Lyn, and her blue eyes promised him that she was still – and always – his Lyn. And he loved her more than anyone else in the world.

But seriously, where had she gotten the clothes? “Where – how – when-” his voice cracked on the last word and he stopped and swallowed, not trusting himself to say anymore.

She giggled at his reaction. “In Bulgar, when we stopped in a couple days ago. My grandfather gave me the money.” She eyed him critically. “You’re not so bad-looking yourself.”

“Th-thanks.” They’d stopped in Caelin long enough for him to grab a formal tunic in burgundy velvet with gold embroidery and a fine green cloak, but he was nothing compared to her.

“Now, what was all the yelling about?” She looked westward, to where Fiora was steadily coming closer. “What is that?”

“That’s what I said,” Ceniro said, walking over to her side. “I think we have some mutineers in our group. Just look how disgustingly smug they are.” Kent couldn’t hide his laughter by this point, and after Wil and Florina stoped gaping, they started to laugh as well.

Lyn sighed and shook her head, making a cascade of tinkly noises. “There’s nothing for it. We’ll have to have a big party. They have come all this way.”

“Do we have enough food?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Kent said. “Just go welcome your unexpected guests.”

Fiora had landed, and bowed to them, Rath and a Sacaean girl he didn’t know close behind her. “Sir Ceniro, Lady Lyn, it gives me great pleasure to present to you… a great many of your friends.”

“Every friend. Every single one of them,” Ceniro muttered under his breath, and Lyn squeezed his hand with amusement.

“CONGRATULATIONS!” shouted the crowd of people behind Fiora, and Ceniro and Lyn turned red.

“You really shouldn’t have,” they both began to say.

“Nonsense,” Eliwood said.

“We really wanted to support you, and by luck, we managed to get away from work,” Ninian said.

“It’s about time, you two!” Hector cried. “I mean, I got married last month!” He put an arm around Freya, who was trying very hard to maintain a knightly detachment and failing. “And only Eliwood and his bunch showed up. I’m disappointed in these world-saving shenanigans. They’re inconvenient.”

“What?” Ceniro blurted out.

“Congratulations,” Lyn said faintly.

“And what are you doing here? How did you know?” Ceniro demanded of Pent and Louise, who for answer chose to envelop him in a hug. After a moment Pent reached out and dragged Lyn into the hug as well.

“I told you, I’m writing your sister!” Andy said loudly from behind them. “Speaking of whom, she’s here, right? We made plans…”

“Er, hello? Andy, right?” Anlie said, curtseying. Andy slowly blushed and began rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.

And there were children running everywhere. Not Klein, he was still in Louise’s arms, but other children, whom he hadn’t seen before. “Um, who-”

“My kids,” Yens said, proudly. “There’s Julian, and this is Maya, and that little angel is Helen, and there’s-”

“Ah, Kent!” Sain called, Salir by his side. “This is the merriest gathering I’ve ever seen! And I’ve seen a few! Good work.”

“Hey, where’s Renee?” Hector said. “I have news for her.”

“Yes, my lord?” Renee said, popping up with Rigel behind her.

Hector regarded her solemnly, then nodded firmly. “You want to stay with these guys?”

“Yes, please!”

“Then you can stay. Hey, isn’t that the jerk who-”

“We should let them get started,” Eliwood said, taking charge easily. “Hello, Lord Hausen! You look well. How are we setting this up?”

In a short time, Ceniro and Lyn were at the centre of a ring of friends, with their family and closest friends in the middle, nearest to them. The wind blew sweet among them, and the sun was bright and warm but not painful.

Ceniro and Lyn reached out and took each other’s hands. “We met by chance,” he said.

“By fate,” she said.

“And together, we overcame many obstacles.”

“And together, we’ll overcome many more.”

“So with Saint Elimine’s blessing, I will be your husband.”

“And as Mother Earth lives in the embrace of Father Sky, I will be your wife.”

He leaned forward and kissed her, gently, and didn’t even hear the cheering.

 

They ate and drank and danced late into the night, in among the city of tents that had sprung up in the area.

Before everyone got too tipsy, Ceniro stood to make an announcement. “Just to let you guys know, we’ve also changed the name of the group.” To something that wasn’t stupid, finally, but he didn’t say that out loud.

“I liked the old name,” Louise said mildly.

“Well, we can’t use it because you’re not here anymore,” Ceniro said. “It’s not the same group without all of you. Lyn?”

Lyn stood beside him, her regalia making shimmering sounds. “From now on, we’re no longer Ceniro’s Elite Company, but the Wind Warriors!”

“I’ll drink to that!” Hector cried, and they all raised their cups.

“To Ceniro and Lyn and the Wind Warriors!”

 

Episode 12: Sealing, Part 2       Epilogue: Rising Star