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rutilation · 5 years

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Listen, they’re not evil. They just lack empathy, and go into a dissociative state and commit atrocities.

As much as it pains me to do so, I’m going to start off by talking about the bastard himself. I must say, believing that rage and misery is the inevitable endpoint of a person’s life is an awfully convenient belief for Aechmea to hold when his plan would end all sentient life as collateral damage. If all your victims are better off dead anyway, then your actions don’t warrant any guilt!

There’s a little moment in chapter 67 that has always stuck out to me as being representative of Aechmea’s character, and I think it’s especially relevant to this chapter. It’s the part in which Cairngorm is trying to argue that it’s in Aechmea’s best interest to keep Phos as mentally stable as possible since they’re his staunchest ally amongst the gems. My reaction upon reading that line was that their appraisal of Aechmea’s intentions was very naïve. To the contrary, the more unstable Phos becomes, the easier it is for Aechmea to manipulate them. At this point in the narrative, Phos is no longer carefully treading through negotiations with Aechmea, as they were in volume eight and the beginning of volume nine; they’re now doing exactly what he wants, with gusto, and no thought to the long term consequences. This is entirely deliberate on Aechmea’s part, and indeed, in the very same chapter that Cairngorm brought this up, Aechmea pulled the same trick on them. He made Cairn feel cornered and desperate, presented himself as the sole solution to their problem, and thus Cairn went from being deeply suspicious of Aechmea to…still being deeply suspicious of Aechmea, tbh, but burying it under an ironclad sense of denial. This chapter even contains a callback to chapter 67: Both here and there, Phos/Cairn is broken and despondent, Aechmea is looming over them, and they reach out to weakly cling to his hand.

He asks Barbata to “handle” Phos’s memories of the past two hundred years. That’s an ambiguous line if I’ve ever heard one. Correct me if I’m wrong, but Phos shouldn’t have memories of the past two hundred years, right? I’m not sure if this is implying that he wants Barbata to implant false memories within Phos of the past two hundred twenty years, or—heaven forbid—if he’s implying that Phos actually has memories of the timeskip, and that he wants Barbata to make sure Phos doesn’t lose any of them. If it’s the latter, that would suggest that Phos has, somehow, been conscious this whole time (holy shit,) and that Aechmea doesn’t want Phos to be able to move past those memories. Regardless of what he’s referring to though, the sentiment behind his cryptic order is clear: now that he’s molded Phos into something he can easily control, he’s taking pains to ensure that they’re stuck in their current incarnation, so that they don’t evolve ever again. It brings to my mind this scene in chapter 54, in which Aechmea all but fetishizes Phos’s capacity for change. It was already pretty creepy, but knowing that this is what he intended for Phos to change into adds another layer of wrongness to that exchange.

It’s interesting that just a couple chapters ago, Phos was screaming at Kongou “If only you weren’t here!” But here, the sentiment has completely inverted, and Phos is weeping as they say that Kongou is the only one who still cares for them, and that it’s the gems who shouldn’t be here. In only a few short hours, they’ve gone from directing all their hatred at Kongou, to directing it at everyone except him. Their rage is unformed and all over the place. Good thing Aechmea’s here to refine it to his own ends!

Aechmea says that he’ll answer Cairngorm’s question “when this is all over.” That could imply a couple of different things, depending on what he means by that. If he means he’ll tell Cairn after he’s finished dealing with Phos for this chapter, then that’s one thing. But, if by ‘all over’ he means that he’s not going to say anything until Kongou successfully prays, and his victory is assured--as with the previous secret he was keeping from Cairngorm, then that implies that whatever he was alluding to when he said he had loved Cairngorm since before they came to the moon, it’s probably something awful.

If you’ve been following my essays for a while, you’ll know that I’ve long suspected that some sort of Cairn-related plot twist will rear its ugly head at some point in the near future, and that mind-control eyeballs were perhaps only the tip of the iceberg. Well, after nearly a year of deliberation, I’ve settled on my personal theory of what this plot twist could be, but it’s far outside the scope of an essay focused on a single chapter, so I’m going to post my thoughts on that in another essay sometime in the coming weeks. Keep an eye out for it if you want to see me go fully and embarrassingly tinfoil hat. (With my luck, chapter 83 is going to reveal what Aechmea meant by his cryptic statement before I get that essay done, and it’s going to be something banal, thus ruining my precious conspiracy theory.)

But enough about cornmeal and acne man, let’s talk about the trajectory Phos seems to be on, and also about Cinnabar.

For quite a while now, it’s been a pretty popular theory that Cinnabar will eventually kill Phos with their mercury, and it does feel like things could head in that direction. Phos is so far gone that they’re willing to kill anyone in their path, and in so much pain that their death could be construed as a mercy. And since they can best Bort in a fight, it would seem that Cinnabar’s mercury is the only thing that could actually stop them, especially since it could chemically bind to their alloy and poison Phos from the inside out. To be perfectly honest though, something about this potential course of events has always rubbed me the wrong way, but until this chapter, I hadn’t been able to pinpoint exactly what it was I didn’t like.

The whole story was started because Phos thought Cinnabar deserved better than their miserable lot in life. At no point did Phos, or the narrative for that matter, ever suggest that it would be for the best if Cinnabar were simply put out of their misery. Their plight warranted not just a release from pain, but a better life to replace it. And as they are now, Cinnabar probably doesn’t want to die anymore, and I imagine they’re glad they didn’t go through with their passive attempt at suicide. (Come to think of it, I think they’re the sole character who’s moved away from being suicidally depressed over the course of the story, instead of gradually succumbing to it.) So, now that the shoe is thoroughly on the other foot, and Phos is the one at rock bottom, it would leave a really bad taste in my mouth if Cinnabar’s response to Phos’s pain ends up being: “Yeah, you should die.”

So, although the plot is probably going maneuver Cinnabar into a situation in which they have to decide whether or not to kill Phos, I hope that it’s ultimately in service of that not coming to pass.

Speaking of Cinnabar, I really hope we finally get more insight into them in these coming chapters. Broadly speaking, more stuff has happened with them the past twenty or so chapters than most of the rest of the series. Their whole life was upended, they (seemingly) made a friend in Bort, and they’re finally making choices that affect the plot, which hasn’t really happened since volume two. But, despite all this, we don’t really know what they’re actually thinking, of what emotions they’ve been going through. You can make some inferences, but that’s not really as affecting as experiencing their perspective firsthand, and I think that’s why people get the impression that they’ve been made irrelevant to the story, despite the fact that they’ve been contributing to the plot lately. So, hopefully we’ll finally get some further elaboration on them in the near future; I think it would remedy the issue quite a bit.

I’ve been thinking lately that what Cinnabar did to Phos in this arc is kind of a grim mirror of how Phos’s desire to help Cinnabar became muddied over the course of the story. I don’t believe that Cinnabar was acting out of malice in chapter 78 when they suggested burying Phos in pieces. If they genuinely wanted Phos dead, they could have encouraged the earth gems to go along with Rutile’s murderous impulses, instead of coming up with a plan in which Phos might come back eventually—certainly no one else in that scene, sans Euclase, voiced any objection to Rutile’s idea, and if Cinnabar hadn’t spoken up, they all might have gone along with it. I think it’s quite possible that they were attempting to protect Phos by trying to appease the other gems’ enmity in a way that wouldn’t bring Phos permanent harm.

But, just like how Phos’s ever-shifting goalposts pushed Cinnabar to the back of their mind over the course of the story, it’s possible that their new life among the gems had the same effect on Cinnabar. Thus, in their mind, Phos was relegated to an important but altogether distant obligation that they’d deal with later, when the time was right. But since these are gems we’re talking about, the time is never right, and complicated problems like these never get dealt with. And just like how it was cruel and thoughtless when Phos put Cinnabar on the backburner, it’s cruel here too—especially if, as I speculated earlier, Phos was somehow awake this whole time.

Because I am a sentimental sap who still has a little bit of hope for a bittersweet ending instead of a complete tragedy, I think that Cinnabar might actually be a wild card in this situation, one who has the potential to save Phos from themselves. (I’m sorry. I can’t help myself. My mind is stuck in power-of-friendship mode, and it’ll probably stay there until Ichikawa beats the idealism out of me, just like she beat it out of Phos.) Keeping in mind what things Aechmea has been able to deduce either through direct observation through Phos’s eye, or what might have been reported to him from any Lunarians returning from an attack on earth, he doesn’t have enough information to figure out that Phos had a strong connection to Cinnabar. Although he’s confident now that Phos has no ties to anything they once loved, and is wholly dependent on him, the previous chapter shows that Cinnabar still means something to Phos, even in this state. Since all of this exists in a blind spot for Aechmea, I think it has the potential to muck up his plans—if Ichikawa deigns it to be so, of course.

Now let’s talk about symbolism, because there’s a lot of it. First off, I want to talk about a pattern I noticed regarding Phos’s changes, one which I discussed in the very first meta I wrote for the series. At the time, I speculated that the title of the art book, Pseudomorph of Love, was hinting at this pattern, but when the artbook was translated later courtesy of @red-dia, it turns out that said title was alluding to something totally different. Nevertheless, I think I may have inadvertently stumbled onto a method regarding Phos’s changes that seems too consistent to not be deliberate, and I’ll reiterate it here: With the very notable exception of the pearl eye, down to even the most minor of losses, every permanent loss and addition to Phos’s body has been tied to an attempted act of kindness. Specifically, Phos loses parts when trying to do something altruistic, and they are given new parts out of kindness on another characters part.

They had to have contaminated parts of their body scraped away after trying to save Cinnabar from falling.

They lost their legs while trying to help Ventricosus return home, and gained the new legs because of an act of kindness on her part.

Although the ice flows initially tried tempting Phos into giving up their arms by reflecting their self-loathing, it was only when they frightened Phos with the idea that Cinnabar might kill themselves if Phos doesn’t change quickly enough that they accidentally-on-purpose lost their arms. While Antarc initially dismissed the gold they ended up giving to Phos as useless, they changed their tune when they noticed Phos projecting their own low self-esteem onto the gold. To me, it seems like the act of giving Phos the gold was their way of telling Phos that they’re not worthless.

They lost a bunch of small pieces while trying to save Antarcticite

They lost their head while trying to save Cairn’s arm. And then Cairn... uh… Let’s put a pin in that for now, and come back to it when their character arc has progressed a bit further. The element of mind control eyeballs that may or may not even be real makes the situation a bit more fraught than I care to get into right this very second.

They lost Lapis’s hair while shielding Morga and Goshe from the Lunarians.

They gave away a piece of their leg so the Admirabilis would know they weren’t holding a grudge against Ventricosus

With that established, let’s talk about the pearl eye. The moment they received it was practically an inverse of the established pattern. It was a transformation motivated by spite on Phos’s part, and for Aechmea, it was an opportunity to exert control over them. Even the act of receiving the pearl eye made them sick, mysterious human particles notwithstanding. The ensuing chapters after they received the pearl eye are, as I’m sure you’re all aware, a whole lot darker and meaner than what the story had been up to that point. If I had to draw a dividing line between the part of hnk that is simply melancholy, and the part that makes the reader feel like a frog in boiling water, I’d use Phos’s first trip to the moon to demarcate these two tones—and the symbol that heralded this descent into hell was the introduction of an unkind addition to Phos’s body.

That brings us to the matter of their most recent loss. Since it’s now apparent that they won’t be getting their other parts back, we can look back on the moment they lost those parts for good and see if it fits the previous pattern, and in my opinion, it does. The reason Phos was in that situation was because they were making a last ditch effort to do right by everyone else, and take responsibility for their mistakes. It was at this point that they mustered up the last bit of kindness and courage they still had in their heart.

But the loss of a given part is only one half of the equation, which begs the question: with what sentiment will Barbata give Phos their replacements? Barbata has subtly given off the impression that he feels guilty about his role in the various atrocities the Lunarians have undertaken, and is disillusioned with Aechmea, but is as of yet unwilling to actually go against him. If there’s ever going to be a point in the story in which he decides to do the right thing instead of just following orders, it’s now or never. I’m counting on you, pasta man. Follow your conscience for once! Either way, whether Phos’s reconstruction ends up being an act of kindness on Barbata’s part, or simply another expression of Aechmea’s corruption is, in my opinion, a crucial distinction that will have ramifications for the future of Phos’s character arc. Speaking of which, it now seems like Red Diamond is the most likely candidate for a replacement, since Padparadscha is busy being asleep on earth.

I’ve talked about how a character’s eyeballs and where they got them from symbolizes their worldview, broadly speaking. This chapter seems to be a continuation of that. Kongou shaped the gems’ worldview, which is symbolized by him giving them their eyes, Cairngorm’s devotion to Aechmea is accompanied by them adopting eyes that Aechmea made for them, during the time that Phos was trying to balance the needs of both the gems and the Lunarians, they had an eye from both Kongou and Aechmea, and now that Phos only has the single pearl eye left, they’re thinking with a one-track mind from a distinctly Lunarian perspective: that everything that gets in the way of their salvation needs to die.

I also find it interesting that Phos’s original material is mostly intact, and what they’ve lost are chunks of their legs and head. It probably symbolizes something, but my brain is starting to leak out of my ears at this point, so I’m just going to remember it for later and see if the meaning becomes clearer in retrospect.

Regarding Phos’s alloy shaping itself into a lotus’s seedpod, my first reaction was that it was a rather ambivalent symbol to use in the context of Phos’s downfall. On one hand, the seedpod only appears when the highly symbolic flower dies, but on the other hand, while the flower is the part of the plant to which a number of cultures have ascribed auspicious meanings like purity and renewal, it is the humble, unsightly seedpod that goes about the actual business of rebirth.

But, as @rinboz pointed out in a post on the subject, it appears to be specifically evoking the image of an empty seedpod. If that’s what Ichikawa is going for, then the meaning is unambiguously ominous, to put it mildly.

Lastly, I brought up in my previous essay that it was highly convenient that Phos happened to trip off the table at the last possible second, and in a manner so noisy that it woke the other gems, no less. In this chapter, Phos lays the blame for their failure on the earth gems interfering… but that only happened because Phos made a racket. I speculated that they may have subconsciously sabotaged themselves—it certainly wouldn’t be the first time. I don’t know how likely that possibility is, but I think it’s one worth keeping in mind.

Well, that was heavy. But on a lighter note, I think it may be time for me to update the only good meta I’ve ever written, birdseki no kuni. What should Phos 4.0 be? I think this feral demigod of vengeance ought to be represented by a real apeshit bird, like an Australian magpie, or something. This will require further deliberation.

#houseki no kuni #finally got this done #i haven't checked if the leaks are out yet #but if they are i hope they don't invalidate half this post #land of the lustrous

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allie-writes · 3 years

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on ghosts

Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen, M/M Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Sylvain Jose Gautier & Dedue Molinaro Additional relevant tags: Character Study, Pre-Slash, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, (Minor) Animal Death, Post-Timeskip, Blue Lions Route Word count: 4753 Language: English Read on: AO3 | Fanfiction.net

Perhaps he might be the most bloodthirsty spirit Faerghus has ever brought forth, really. He roams the chapel to the sound of rattling metal and the smell of death and rot surrounding him. His face is gaunt, pale, and contorted in a pitiful sort of rage. His whispers and mutters well into the night, as though he never sleeps. As if his fellow ghosts won’t let him rest.

And it’s weird. He might as well be a face-snatcher, too, because Sylvain could swear that he looks a lot like a boy he used to know.

Sylvain thinks about ghosts.

Content warnings: Mental health issues, a rat getting killed, mentions of blood, dead bodies, death imagery. Please read at your own discretion and stay safe!

With the Pegasus Moon comes a cold icy enough to blanket even Garreg Mach with a thin layer of snow.

It’s nothing compared to northern Faerghus, where winter draws on endlessly and spring is unkind. Here, the snow falls in tiny flakes that cover the grass like powdered sugar. It glitters in the dying lamplight, silently settling on the ground as the night draws on.

It’s painfully quiet.

Any soldier would know to not to trust the quiet after five years of war. Murderers can hide well under the cover of the night. Ambushes may lie in the wait where you can’t see them yet. Better sleep with a knife under your pillow and listen to the silence as though it were your favourite song. Goddess forbid you may find an offbeat.

War begets sleepless nights and fitful sleep. Tonight seems to be a night of little sleep, if any at all. The courtyard in front of the officers’ academy gathers more and more dusted snow as Sylvain stands and watches it fall. His sleepwear and the thin blanket thrown over his shoulders do a poor job of keeping him properly warm, but he is used to the cold. And he’s survived even worse things, besides.

Maybe, were he younger, he would have found someone to keep him company for the night by now—to warm his bed, to thoroughly exhaust him, and to chase the sleeplessness away. But he isn’t twenty anymore, and he doubts he’d find any genuine comfort in it with things as they are. He can’t recall if there ever was a time where it was about comfort at all.

It’s not comfortable, standing in the cold with his sleep pants tucked into his unlaced boots and his bare feet surrounded by coarse lining. Nothing is comfortable. War isn’t comfortable.

Sylvain is tired.

He steps out onto the grass. The snow is so thin it doesn’t even crunch under his feet. The sky is a perfect, pitch black—the kind of colour that folktales from back home would use as the backdrop for fantastical stories about spirits that come for you in the night.

An eternity ago, when things had been easier, Mercedes would occasionally recount some of those tales. She would scare the fainter of heart, like Annette or Ashe, and entertain everyone else with a good story for the night. She hasn’t told any tales ever since everyone reconvened a few months ago, though. It isn’t the time or place to speak of ghosts. They all have their own ghosts now, and the most terrifying of all of them haunts their thoughts and the monastery day in and day out.

And it’s weird. He might as well be a face-snatcher, too, because Sylvain could swear that he looks a lot like a boy he used to know.

But it’s still painfully quiet. And Sylvain is still tired. And no iron clatters, and no mutters are to be heard, and it almost doesn’t smell like the blood of enemy soldiers, either.

The snow catches in his hair, and his breath fogs up in the air. Everyone has their own ghosts now, and Sylvain has been cultivating an entire army of them since long before the war. They were born somewhere between a village girl’s thighs and the give of his brother’s flesh when he drove his lance between his ribs. It’s almost funny how cathartic the horror of it all sometimes feels.

Maybe Sylvain is long since gone, too. Maybe he died at the bottom of a well, or froze in the wilderness, or bled to death on the inside. Something within him definitely did die. He’s no less of a ghost than what lurks in the shadows of the cathedral.

But his haunting grounds are much colder, and quiet as death. Sylvain wipes the molten snow from his lashes and pulls his blanket tighter around his shoulders. He probably won’t catch any sleep, but he still steps back from the grass, and into the corridor leading to the great hall, and eventually, back into his room. By then, he’s almost dry.

ii.

There is a sense of abject horror to watching his prince crush a rat in his hands. The poor thing’s bones snap and crack, and there’s no mercy to the grip around its limp little body until its guts come spilling out. Its blood drips onto the floor in slow droplets, looking like liquid tar in the moonlight.

“Nuisance,” booms the vengeful ghost wearing an old friend’s face.

Sylvain sits in one of the pews towards the back of the cathedral, silently watching. The sun had set only about two hours ago. The altar at the very front is covered in snow, glowing a strange blue colour where the moon shines through the broken roof.

The ghost slowly skulks towards it. His movements are sluggish and tired like a dying animal’s, and he ever so carefully places the rat’s carcass atop the altar as though it were a sacrifice to the Goddess. He mumbles something, so quietly that Sylvain has no hope of making out a single word.

It almost looks like he is praying.

But that can’t be it. Rather than the Goddess, he must be trying to appease his ghosts—his father, his mother, an entire army and Glenn Fraldarius. Dedue. Everyone is familiar with what haunts him by now.

Sylvain carefully studies the hunched over form at the altar. The moonlight makes the patches of ratty white fur draped around his shoulders shine like the snow surrounding him. Not a hair moves. He is entirely still, and hopefully unlikely to turn around.

So Sylvain stands up, as slowly and quietly as possible. He hasn’t yet taken off his armour from the day’s routine scouting mission, and the plates of it scrape softly in the cathedral’s silence. It’s barely noise, but it’s apparently loud enough for a wounded, paranoid beast to hear.

“Who’s there?” he snarls, turning, and his bared teeth and icy, singular eye glint silver. He scours the darkness before him like a predator. Then, he steps forward. His boots clink against the floor with every heavy footfall.

Sylvain stands rooted to the spot. There is no point in running—if he did, surely, the prince would be onto him in an instant. So he slowly forces his legs to move, one after the other. He steps out into the corridor between the pews, hands raised, palms open.

“It’s just me,” says Sylvain, not daring to make eye-contact.

The clinking of armoured boots against the floor’s tiling continues, grows ever closer. Sylvain breathes evenly, staring at his feet, until the steps come to a halt. The overpowering smells of filth, sweat, blood, death and decay surround him and he almost wants to gag.

“Why are you here?”

Sylvain feels a smile strain his lips, out of habit.

“I don’t know, honestly. I just wandered in here. Guess I’m a bit restless.”

He raises his eyes as if to prove his honesty. Usually, he makes sure not to look directly into the face before him. He doesn’t like having to acknowledge—beyond a doubt, beyond plausible deniability—that this is Dimitri. But at the same time, this wounded animal, this little boy from his childhood, deserves to be looked at, and be it only to set his frail mind at ease.

“Restless,” echoes Dimitri. “What do you know about restlessness.”

Sylvain swallows and holds Dimitri’s eye. “Nothing at all, Your Highness,” he says, exaggeratedly blithe. He begins to lower his still raised hands. “I was just about to leave, anyways.”

In a blink, Dimitri seizes his right wrist. He holds it up with a grip that could crush Sylvain’s gauntlet and bones alike were it just an iota tighter. His rank breath fans across Sylvain’s face. “Do you take me for a fool?” he snarls.

“Never, Your Highness.”

Dimitri glowers at him. “Then do you really think I would let you reach for whatever weapon you’re carrying?” He indicates towards Sylvain’s lower body with a tilt of his head. “Should I just sit patiently and wait for you to stab me in the back?”

“I’m not carrying any weapons,” replies Sylvain. The hand around his wrist tightens threateningly. “I swear I am not. I fight for you every day. I have no reason to hurt you.”

“Let us pretend you weren’t a filthy liar,” Dimitri jeers. “So what if you have no reason to hurt me? Do you think people need a reason to kill?”

Sylvain can’t help but remember the rat, squeezed to death in the same iron grip that is currently holding his hand up. His eyes flicker towards the altar. “Maybe not.”

That seems to satisfy Dimitri. He grins, and the shadows passing over his face bring out the monster quite well. “So you admit as much,” he says. “But let me tell you something. I won’t let you kill me, yet. Not before I get to hold that woman’s head in my own two hands. The dead are helpless. They cannot act upon their thirst for revenge. So I must not join them before then.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Sylvain replies. The smell around him is slowly making him nauseous. He still takes a deep breath. “But I need you to understand that I’m not here to kill you. Or harm you in any way for that matter. I don’t have as much as a butter knife on me.”

“And isn’t that a shame.” The fingers around Sylvain’s wrist tighten just a bit more. Even through the padding below his armour, it hurts.

“Please let me go, Your Highness.”

Dimitri stares, but looks right through him. “You couldn’t kill me if you wanted to,” he says. “But know that I could crush you like vermin. That I will crush you like vermin, if you ever scutter back in here and hide in the darkness like this.”

“And do you really think you would you enjoy killing me like that?” Sylvain asks. He would bet that there’s no way he would—in a moment of clarity, he would realise what he’s done. He would have to live with the knowledge that he had murdered someone close to him, for no good reason. That he’d become what he despises most. That Sylvain’s ghost would come for Dimitri’s head, and Dimitri’s head alone.

The hand around his wrist goes slack. Then it drops away.

Dimitri averts his eye, looks towards the grand portal at the back of the cathedral. His shoulders and jaw tense up. “Leave,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Don’t come back.”

Sylvain nods, and cradles his right hand close to his chest. Wordlessly, he walks past his prince, and doesn’t turn to look back even once. He pulls the portal open only far enough to just slip through, and only once he has an inch of solid wood between himself and Dimitri does he dare release a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

The night is cold, and the snow on the bridge is frozen over where it’s been pushed aside in heaps. Sylvain shivers and breathes shakily. Funny. Almost as if he’d seen a ghost.

He looks down at his wrist—properly examines it in the moonlight. There are four finger-shaped indents in his gauntlet, spanning three individual plates. The dents in the metal almost feel like Dimitri’s grip is still there.

It’s smeared with blood and rat-guts.

iii.

The world seems to run on quid pro quo these days. Perhaps it is a byproduct of war. If you keep on taking and taking from one party, you can eventually begin to give back to another in equal parts.

Ferdinand von Aegir and his trusty steed cheerfully bleed out on a stiflingly warm spring afternoon. In turn, Dedue comes back from the dead.

And he must have brought back some part of Dimitri from the underworld along with him, because in a moment of clarity, with shaking hands clasped around his most trusted vassal’s forearms, the tremor in the prince’s voice sounds almost human. One ghost has returned—a living, breathing thing, instead of a bloodthirsty facsimile that lurks in the darkness of Dimitri’s mind.

By the time they regroup at Garreg Mach, the spell is broken.

Nothing truly changes, except that the spectre haunting the monastery grounds now has a shadow following it around. At least the nights are milder now, so Dedue’s stalwart vigils are not bitten by frost nor covered in snow.

Sylvain sits with him, one night, in the third row of pews from the front. A few candles around them remain lit. Sylvain’s gauntlet has long since been fixed and Dimitri pays neither of them any mind, either way.

“It’s good to know that you’re watching over him,” Sylvain says, lowly. “None of us really managed to.”

Dedue gives him a curious sideways glance, but doesn’t ask him to elaborate. He just straightens in his seat and sighs. “I would never mind looking out for His Highness,” he says, “especially when I am, arguably, to blame for his current state.”

“Are you, though?”

“The dead have always had a firm grip on his conscience. And I left him to think that I had died. That yet another life had been laid down for him. It was the cruellest thing I could have done.”

Sylvain purses his lips, stalls by glancing around the empty cathedral. “Maybe you’re right,” he says. Dedue nods grimly. It’s funny. He’s younger than Sylvain, and so severe. “But I still think you did the right thing. Goddess knows what all of us would be doing by now, were His Highness gone for good.”

Dimitri mutters something to himself, almost loud enough to be intelligible from where they’re sitting, and starts to pick at a heap of debris. Dedue watches him like a hawk, and maybe one day, his efforts will be rewarded. Sylvain wonders how that would even work.

Silence stretches on between them, only filled with vague muttering and the scraping of stones and plate mail. “Well,” says Sylvain eventually, “and then, there’s still that sliver of a hope that he’ll actually come around. Take the throne, become the king we need. Keep Faerghus from falling apart.”

Dedue’s lips press into a firm line. He slowly tears his gaze away from Dimitri and meets Sylvain’s eye. “Is that really what you think?”

“I want to, at least. Don’t you?”

He pauses. “Of course. There is not a doubt in my mind,” Dedue settles on. “Though I do not think there is a magical cure for what ails His Highness.”

It almost makes Sylvain laugh. “No,” he says instead, “there really isn’t.” And it’s understandable, and relatable—all of them are messes in their own right. War does that to a person. Sylvain has no trouble admitting that he might be the biggest mess of them all, has been for a long time. But unlike him, Dimitri used to be kind. He had no time to properly get used to all the vitriol being pumped into his system, had no time to build up a resistance to the poison, and was promptly killed from the inside out for it.

Dedue shifts in his seat, looks back towards their prince. He has stopped his aimless digging by now, instead staring off into space.

“At the very least, he is alive,” says Dedue, very quietly. It sounds as though he were only now beginning to reconcile his guilt with his own conscience. Sylvain almost laughs. Dedue, too, is kind.

“Alive might be overstating it,” he says.

iv.

And then Rodrigue Fraldarius dies so Dimitri can actually come alive again.

It’s almost unsurprising, that the toll for their prince’s soul has to be paid in blood. The sun slowly sets on them, dyeing the sky a similar shade of red, and by nightfall, Duke Fraldarius has gone well and truly cold.

It rains throughout the night, as though the heavens themselves were weeping for their loss. They leave their march back to Garreg Mach for the morning, and lay out Rodrigue in the most dignified manner possible, given their circumstances. Mercedes softly offers a prayer, Felix runs, Dimitri runs farther, and the Professor gives chase.

The rest of them remain at camp, and sometime during the night, as the rain eases off to a drizzle, Sylvain and Dedue set out to dispose of the body of a murderous girl left unaccounted for. Gilbert surmised she might have been a Bergliez—the younger sister to a general who had preceded her in death.

It ultimately doesn’t matter. The rain rolls off her cold, pale skin the same as any other corpse. She is limp and heavy between them as they heft her towards a ravine. And hard as carrying her might be, she falls easily.

This close to Gronder, the Bergliez girl finds her resting place on familiar soil at least. It still strikes Sylvain as somewhat cruel. Somewhat terrifying.

“Taking her back to the monastery,” Dedue begins, quiet and even, rumbling like subtle thunder, “would not have made anyone happier. I do not imagine the Empire would have claimed her.”

Sylvain’s mouth is bone dry amidst the rain. “We didn’t have to leave her dead in a ditch to be eaten by wolves, though,” he says, lightly, like it’s a joke.

Dedue’s voice is firm when he replies, “After making an attempt on His Highness’ life, this is a greater mercy than she is deserving of.” The raindrops plink on his armour. “I have no pity for her.”

There’s something terrifying about Dedue, too.

Sylvain purses his lips. “Do you think...” he begins, and trails off. It’s hard to see much in the darkness, but Dedue seems to be listening intently, back straight. Do you think vengefulness finally came to bite Dimitri in the ass? he desperately wants to ask. Do you think the Empire would be tossing him down there instead, had things gone just a bit differently? Where would that leave us?

But these are not questions to ask Dedue, of all people. Maybe he will bring them up with Felix, when it stops being the insensitive thing to do.

The rain falls on, and Sylvain doesn’t finish his question. Instead, he stares down the dark ravine as if he was waiting for something. He half expects the Bergliez girl to come crawling back up. Perhaps all the spite stored in her small body is enough to miraculously revive her. Make her into one of Dimitri’s heartless, murderous ghosts. If she grabbed at Sylvain’s ankles, could she pull him back down with her? Would he even think to fight her?

“We should head back to camp, Sylvain,” says Dedue, eventually. The rain is getting heavier again, and he’s right. He’s right, and yet.

And yet.

There’s something genuinely human about Dimitri again, after that.

Sylvain feels like his insides have been freshly scraped out, but their prince finally dares to stand before his people again—one-eyed, filthy, and with tears streaming down his face. And he’s hopeful. Goddess, he’s hopeful, because the people looking up to him remind him how hope looks.

And to them, hope looks an awful lot like Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd.

It is hope that has him struggle to rekindle his humanity, bit by bit. He spends days tracking down the people close to him around the monastery, always keeping his head bowed and voice low as he apologises and, eventually, tentatively speaks to them as one would with old friends. It’s as amusing as it is sad to watch.

Eventually, he seeks out Sylvain in one of the many courtyards. Someone has chopped off some of his hair since Sylvain last saw him, and he doesn’t reek anymore, either. It seems like a miracle, after all these months.

“Sylvain, may I have a moment of your time?” he asks, shoulders curled inward, in a clear attempt to make himself look small.

Sylvain almost laughs. “Of course, Your Highness.”

Dimitri smiles—a small, wobbly little thing. “Thank you,” he says. His tone is close to the regal cadence from their childhood. It feels almost nostalgic.

“Well, how can I help you?”

The prince sighs. He is pale—not in the way a ghost is. Not in the way a corpse is. Goddess knows Sylvain has seen his fill of jaundiced, bruised bodies lately. By comparison, Dimitri only looks exhausted, and isn’t that a good look on him for a change?

“Sylvain, I must apologise to you,” he says. “As must I to everyone else, of course. You understand my meaning.”

“I do, but... I’m the last one who needs your apologies, Your Highness,” Sylvain replies. It comes out a little dry, almost enough to make him want to cough. Dimitri frowns, looks agonised at hearing Sylvain dismiss him so.

He straightens up, squares his shoulders. Emphatically, he says, “I disagree.” Whether his bearing is animalistic or kingly in nature, Sylvain can’t tell. “Words cannot make up for everything I’ve done, or for what I’ve put all of you through. Believe me, I am more than aware of this. But even if this is mere lip service, I want to think of it as a starting point.”

And then, curiously, Dimitri reaches for Sylvain’s bare wrist. He slowly curls his fingers around it with a measured, deliberate gentleness. “Whether you need it or not, I still think you deserve an apology. If only as much as everyone else.”

“I got the gauntlet fixed,” Sylvain replies.

“So you did.”

Sylvain sighs. He wants to run a hand through his hair, but finds one of them inconveniently held down. “Listen, Your Highness, let’s just focus on winning the war, first thing. Everything else can come later.”

“But—“

“Did you apologise to Felix, yet?”

Dimitri starts, then looks away, studying the caps of his boots and the grass. He dips his head in a nod. “I’ve lost count how often, quite frankly. And I still feel like it will never be enough.”

“Maybe it won’t,” Sylvain agrees. Dimitri’s gaze snaps back to him, the hand around his wrist clenching. His eye is wide, with something wretched and hungry boiling beneath the surface. A gluttony for punishment. “But you know how he is—actions mean more to him than words do. So show him that you mean it.”

Dimitri suddenly drops—slaps away—his wrist as if it had burned him. “And then what, Sylvain?” he asks. “Is that what you’re asking of me as well? How would I even go about that? How does one show repentance?”

“That’s not—listen,” Sylvain says, holding back a groan. “No one is asking you to spend the rest of your days between self-flagellation and martyrdom. Just... win this war. Show everyone who sided with you that they didn’t fight for nothing. That’s all you have to do, really.”

“And the throne?”

There’s not a doubt in Sylvain’s mind that Dimitri will ascend it. Out of a sense of duty, or because people push him into it, he doesn’t know, but—he will. “You’ll cross that bridge when you get to it,” is what he says, though.

Dimitri seems to relish in the ambiguity. His eye slips shut. “Very well, then,” he replies. Hums. Sylvain thinks that’s the end of that, but his price proves him wrong. “Rodrigue would have liked to see me coronated, certainly.”

“I’m sure he would have. And maybe Felix would agree, though he’d never admit it.”

Dimitri laughs, soft and rumbling. The ghost of Duke Fraldarius seems to hang about him much more lightly than the rest.

When Dimitri’s blinks his eye open and he looks at Sylvain, it’s with a level of fondness that almost catches him off guard. “I think we went quite of track, Sylvain,” he says. “I came here to apologise to you, and yet...”

“It doesn’t matter, Your Highness. Really.” And because Dimitri looks almost sceptical, he adds, “I mean it. You might not realise it, but I think I’m more willing to forgive you after this than I would have been after nothing but an apology.”

“Very well, then,” concedes Dimitri. He straightens up, rolls back his shoulders. He stands about as tall as Sylvain these days, but wears the height much more imposingly. Kingly. “I suppose I will have to lead our troops to victory, then. Just to be assured your forgiveness.”

That sounds suspiciously like a joke, albeit a bad one. Sylvain still laughs at it. “I wouldn’t forgive you if you didn’t, that much is true.”

Dimitri smiles. “Thank you, in any case,” he says. Then, looking around, pretending—endearingly badly—to be busy, all of a sudden, he adds, “I unfortunately have a lot to catch up on, so if you’ll excuse me.”

Sylvain waves a hand, dismissive. “Off you go,” he says.

And the prince bows to him, just by a few angles, before he turns on his heel.

vi.

Pegasus Moon in Fhirdiad is freezing, but it feels like spring compared to Gautier.

Rime covers even sunny days until nightfall, and nights are almost endless in Fódlan’s North, even though the city’s lights make a valiant effort to stain the pitch blackness of the sky a bruised orange. A few lamps and torches around the castle remain lit until morning, still. By their humble light, guardsmen and knights brave the cold without as much as a complaint.

Sylvain is not nearly as brave—a mere political visitor, who only stays at the capital to play nice with court and king when negotiations with Sreng slow, who only visits when his father wants him out of his hair.

He walks about the courtyards in the dark, where snow is piled as high as his calves. But he’s wearing his sturdy travel boots, laced up almost all the way to his knees, and the crunching of the snow below his feet feels like home.

That’s how the ever busy king of the united Fódlan finds him—standing knee-deep in the snow, bundled up in furs over his relatively humble travel gear. Sylvain doesn’t expect him, but then, in a way, he does. Dimitri is awfully used to haunting ancient halls.

“I see you couldn’t be bothered to announce your arrival personally.”

Sylvain grins. He turns to face his king. “I had a lot of excess energy after being on the road for so long, Your Majesty.”

If they hadn’t know each other for the better part of their lives, perhaps Dimitri would reply with something other than a shake of his head and a vague huff of laughter. But as it is, he only steps into the snow—briefly, disdainfully looking at his feet as though he were surprised it is wet—and then proceeds to step into the holes of Sylvain’s tracks.

A twin set of torches tries to illuminate the entire courtyard, but their soft yellow glow is not nearly enough to drive off the darkness of the night. Dimitri comes to stand before Sylvain, looking disgruntled in soaked shoes and dishevelled regalia.

Perhaps the faint light hides some of his tiredness, but he looks good. Healthy. Alive. Sylvain smiles at him, tilting his head. “Are you without Dedue tonight?”

Dimitri nods. “I promised him I would look for you, then turn in for the night,” he says. “I wish he would stop his constant fretting, one of these days.”

“To be fair, I’m sure lots of people are out for your life,” Sylvain replies.

Dimitri laughs, like it’s a joke, and well. Enough of that.

Sylvain roughly yanks his king into a crushing hug, because he can do that, what with them having known each other for the better part of their lives. Dimitri goes stiff against him, as he always does, before returning the embrace even more ferociously.

“I’d like to announce that I have arrived healthy and whole, Your Majesty,” he says into the fur trim of Dimitri’s collar, and Dimitri laughs again.

#fanfiction #Fire Emblem Three Houses #fe3h #sylvain jose gautier #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #dimivain #dedue molinaro #word count: 4k+#cw: blood #cw: death mention #cw: dead body #cw: mental health #cw: dead animals #cw: violence

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bronyinabottle · 5 years

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Post-Series Finale Mod Note

Well, the series has finally wrapped up. And I felt like it’d be proper to let you guys know’s what I’m doing next and also my thoughts on some of the episodes since the last update.

I want to rest assure that I still have plans to continue this blog for a decent while and in fact hope to have another big story akin to Return to Saddle Arabia sometime next year that addresses some things that never got mentioned in the show that would be relevant to the story of Genie Twilight (Ex: Spike when he was just an Egg prior to Twilight hatching him). In terms of more near future stuff though, I will probably do a little episode response to the final episode of the series.

Anyway, regarding the finale itself. I felt it was AMAZING. I’ll probably get to doing a my thoughts on post for the two-parter and the epilogue episode all on it’s own. Because I really want to focus, re-watch, and gush about so many details of those last 3 episodes. How much did I like the finale? Can I just tell you that the two-parter alone is actually challenging Twilight’s Kingdom for my new favorite episode of the series? It’s outright awesome the series got to end with a bang like this. The epilogue episode was also great, very bittersweet in parts, but I’d say it’s also within the Top 10 of the series and the ending song I’m sure made just about every fan in the series well up in tears.

After the break though, I’ll be giving some thoughts on the episodes since then as I want to just entirely focus on Finale stuff. If you want to hear some of my opinions regarding any specific things in the finale faster though. Feel free to sound off an ask over on my mod blog. But for now, here’s some thoughts about episodes 14-23 of Season 9

THE LAST LAUGH

It was quite cool to see Weird Al come back one more time to the series. Of course, this wasn’t as jam packed with awesome music and moments as his character’s debut performance back in Season 4. But it was a fun episode, though I wonder if they should of put a little more hints regarding something that comes up in the Series Finale. (Though perhaps the Pinkie plush we see in Cheese’s room might be something)

2, 4, 6, GREAT

Yeaaaaaah... if every season has their dud(/s) this is probably Season 9′s for sure. Once again Rainbow’s more dickish then she should be at this point of the series. And while I can understand that they’re different characters. I can’t help but be reminded of Human Rainbow in Friendship Games when she was doing her song for the pep rally. That very much felt like what a Rainbow Dash should actually be doing if they’re hired to lead a cheerleading squad. Kind of sucks though that Rainbow often does seem to get a dud episode in many seasons of the show (Mare-Do-Well Season 2, Rainbow Falls Season 4, 28 Pranks Later Season 6, Non-Compete Clause Season 8). Rainbow’s still my 2nd favorite pony, but sometimes that becomes hard to say after particular episodes.

A TRIVIAL PURSUIT

I’m a little mixed on this one, it’s fun to see Twilight freak out again. But something about this episode screams “Wrong season”. Especially since the very next episode gets into how Twilight has matured as she is closer to taking the role of ruler of Equestria. This kind of episode might of been fine if it had been made anywhere between Season 2-Season 5. Not the final season where she’s heading towards being the new ruler, it’d be kind of worrisome to know your next leader went bonkers trying to win a game of trivia.

THE SUMMER SUN SETBACK

Now this was a good one! A nice setup with the villain trio messing with the Mane 6′s Summer Sun celebration plans while they try to get information about Grogar’s bell. And while it became slightly muddled by the trivia episode prior to this, the note about Twilight’s character development is nicely appreciated. It’s kind of a shame that besides the opener, only this episode and Frenemies were the episodes that built up to the two-parter later. Said two-parter is still one of the best of the series, but it may have helped to have a little more build-up to it during the Season then it actually did.

SHE TALKS TO ANGEL

This was a fun Fluttershy episode for certain, we get to know exactly what Angel feels even if that’s through Fluttershy’s own body. So we can get a sense of really of what Fluttershy’s had to deal with for years heh. Also, the “I wanna marry Discord” off-hand line is pretty funny. Even if now it drives shippers crazy. You either take it that Angel is trolling, or Angel knows something that we don’t. Doesn’t help that something in the finale might of left things very ambiguous on this front.

DRAGON DROPPED

I think it’s actually good that Spike’s essentially outgrew his devotion to Rarity. Of course he’s still willing to help her from time to time as in the ending, but it’s great that he can kind of explore other things he wants to do and/or meet new friends. On a side note though, the first time Rarity’s practicing her apology had to have been one of the funniest moments in a while.

A HORSE SHOE-IN

The final Starlight episode gives her role as being promoted to being the new headmare of the School of Friendship. Which is a fair role to give her though I don’t know if that actually might feel a little underwhelming for fans of her. I mean, I’m glad she’s not like.. going to become a Princess herself as those were exactly the worst fears everyone had about Starlight. But it’s certainly a strange journey to go from a season-long villain, Twilight’s student for one season and the openers and finale of that season being more about her then it was Twilight and the others, to simply being in charge of a school at the end. That school’s still important, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that everything with Starlight doesn’t seem easy to explain as it still stems that we practically got nothing substantial about her after her rather quick turnaround in the Season 5 finale. I’m still as lukewarm as ever with Starlight. I do wonder if there will be a Starlight in G5, she may instantly have a better reception since G4 Starlight has quite the baggage.

On the episode itself though, it feel weird to have this moral of “Don’t hire your friends” only for Starlight to do exactly that by hiring both Sunburst and Trixie. Granted, Sunburst is probably competent. But I think I would of liked to see more of how Trixie would do as counselor more then just standing up for Gallus that one time. Just doesn’t feel right. I think I enjoyed the episode to some extent still, but it probably would of been better if Sunburst was part of the process. So maybe you can an addendum to the moral that sometimes your friends can also be good for the job while others aren’t

DARING DOUBT

Daring Do episodes are almost always fun. Though I do gotta say it’s weird to go with the whole Ahuizotl was misunderstood thing when I believe one of his thing was to try to make 800 years of unrelenting heat? What exactly was that about. But eh, might just have to be pushed with the pile of stuff like Marble and Big Mac.

GROWING UP IS HARD TO DO

It was pretty fun to see the CMC as grown-ups (Even though how funny would it be that we’d get to see that anyway during the finale. I wonder if perhaps this episode came into development simply because they planned the finale to be a timeskip long ago and decided to have a little more use for the flash assets of the adult CMC in a proper episode). A little more bittersweet when you look at Scoots though as you see that she still has small wings, nice attention to detail on her disability though.

THE BIG MAC QUESTION

And the final regular episode of the show is dedicated to getting Big Mac hitched and crazy Discord shenanigans. All I can say is it was a fun episode through and through and even brought back the sort of reality show interview stuff we saw in that one Season 6 Rarity episode

SEASON 9 THOUGHTS OVERALL

I still want to give the Finale it’s own thought section because I think it really deserves attention on it’s own. I thought I’d just give a general thoughts on Season 9. Besides the finale, Season 9 actually felt kind of on the underwhelming side of things. There are definitely good episodes popping up there and there, it just felt like it wasn’t really feeling like most of the episodes were taking any credence to how the show was wrapping up soon. Thankfully the Finale more then makes up for it, but it felt like a lot more could of been done to set things up for the big finale. The finale will no doubt be Season 9′s crown jewel and I do want to share as much thoughts as I possibly can about them when I get to it.

Regardless, this has been a fun series to keep watch on. Hopefully many of us still have some fandom things to look forward to making and/or seeing even as of course with our main show over we’ll see even less productivity at least until we see what Generation 5 will be like. See you guys again soon for when I have a response and big thoughts for the finale episodes!

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langwrites · 5 years

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Lang Plays Fire Emblem: Three Houses

I’m playing them in this order: Blue Lions, Black Eagles, Church of Seiros, and then Golden Deer. (I organized them by how likely it is to have a true final boss who is actually as relevant to the lore as the opening cutscene. And also because I thoroughly spoiled myself about that.)

So, after sinking what the game tells me was eighty hours into a single playthrough, here’s my thoughts on the first thing I tackled.

Spoilers below the cut.

Very Early Game (Blue Lions):

It’s the Fire Emblem Dad! (I played Path of Radiance. I’ve seen this dude before.)

Hi Claude. Sorry, I’m gonna steal every single one of your peers I can catch. Same to you, Edelgard.

Dimitri is so awkward it’s almost palpable.

Aww, Ashe and Annette are adorable. Mercedes has that dead anime mom hairstyle that sets my teeth on edge, but she’s super nice. It’ll take me longer to warm up to the boys, I think.

Felix is the token “I MUST BECOME STRONGER” myrmidon character. Gotta have at least one per game, apparently.

Sylvain = Sain. Token womanizer cavalier. His support list is pretty odd, though.

Dedue = the guy who done punch things. And he *has* to punch things, because he’s slow as hell and his speed growth isn’t great.

What the fuck is that strength growth, Dimitri. What the fuck is that Charm growth.

I was so close to making him my team’s designated Dancer unit, you guys.

Beleth is gonna be their teacher and somehow I don’t imagine this going super well.

Pre-Timeskip School Life:

Once again, I regret not being able to support with characters who’ve firmly attached themselves to the other two houses. (Which is only like three people in my “gotta catch ‘em all” playthrough, but whatever.)

But I can support all the recruitables, which is...something that took me a long while to do.

The first person I stole for the Blue Lions was Caspar. The first person who straight-up joined was Flayn. Yay, auxiliary punchers and auxiliary-auxiliary healers!

Ashe, your adoptive father really didn’t need to die. You were right. It was all bad all the way down.

Flayn gets kidnapped and I fuck around for a month raising everyone else’s supports and realizing Seteth’s too distraught to train my Lance level. Dangit.

I missed the opportunity to support with Leonie entirely because her personality put me off for the first few in-game months, and it turns out you can only start her support chain while Jeralt is alive.

Dammit. Now I’ve gotta train with lances.

What’s-his-fuck over at the village sure did do a thing, didn’t he. And if he hadn’t dropped his disguise just then he could have gotten away with it.

Their scheme would’ve failed faster if anybody around this fucking monastery could apply logic to shapeshifter shenanigans.

Seriously, no one should have trusted Monica.

You vanish over the course of a year, and come back with your personality totally inverted.

Tomas/Solon had just demonstrated what it looks like when these dickbags drop cover, and then everyone subsequently failed to make the correct deduction. If they hadn’t, Jeralt would’ve lived.

Dad-stabbing: A theme of Fire Emblem games. Seriously. Check out the huge list of dead dads (which goes all the way back to the first game in the series.)

Also dead moms, but for some reason moms are less prominent in the series as a whole.

For the purposes of this analysis, we are also including every single boss who had kids. Which isn’t most of them, but god damn there are still a lot of dead dads.

Dorotheaaaaaa be my frieeeeeeend

Yoinked Linhardt after finally showering him in enough gifts to get his sleepy ass to sign transfer papers.

Swiped Marianne, Bernadetta, Petra, Ignatz, Alois (kinda), Shamir (sorta), Manuela (iffy), Hanneman (yoink), Catherine (see previous), Hilda (how), Lorenz (woop woop), and Leonie (sigh).

The Death Knight remains, for the moment, unpillaged for his Dark Seal drops. This time it was an accident: I killed everyone else in the room except for him and a priest/mage, but then that last dude squared up with Felix and died.

All the points I poured into their associated skills and their supports, however, left one big gap:

DAMMIT FERDINAND, I’M TRYING TO SAVE YOUR LIFE. WHY DO YOU CARE SO MUCH ABOUT HEAVY ARMOR. RAPHAEL JOINED UP DESPITE THAT.

(I got a B-rank support with him and he popped into my office to say he was transferring, nbd. Ferdinand’s B-rank is locked until after the timeskip.)

tl;dr: The only recruitable character I missed was Ferdinand.

Seteth and Gilbert don’t do shit until post-timeskip and Rhea isn’t playable, so w/e.

As soon as I say that, Seteth and Flayn have a paralogue. It’s a beach level. I hate beach levels and desert levels. Seteth gets to be MVP because he’s the only jerk who can fly.

They have a little speech after the paralogue level that reveals that they’re actually father and daughter, not siblings. And the whole story of this little subplot basically confirms that they’re dragons.

Neither of them transform over the course of the game, and that’s okay.

Ruh-roh, Raggy. Let’s see who’s really under the Flame Emperor’s mask--

“AND I WOULD HAVE GOTTEN AWAY WITH IT TOO, IF NOT FOR--oh wait teleportation exists. BYE!”

Dimitri proceeds to thoroughly lose any chill he ever pretended to have, and I’m 99% sure the villain in question isn’t actually old enough to have caused the Tragedy of Duscur. Unless the biographies in the notes were lying.

Now, the backup dancers over there sure as shit are, but logical reasoning has its time and place.

Whatever. Time for stabbing.

WE ALREADY KNOW THESE PEOPLE ARE CAPABLE OF MAKING THEMSELVES LOOK LIKE ANYONE, MASKS TOTALLY UNNECESSARY. THE VICTIM ONLY HAS TO DISAPPEAR FOR A WHILE.

WHY AREN’T WE CHECKING THAT AS A BASIC PRECAUTION.

THERE HAVE BEEN THREE OF THESE CREEPS ALREADY.

Their name is too long and I should call them Morlocks.

But seriously, check for infiltrators.

What passes for strategy around here: Take Paladin Dimitri, plunk his overleveled ass down on a corner where all the enemies’ targeting reticles converge, and wait five minutes for all the counterkill animations to play out.

If I wanna try the same with Sylvain, he needs to be backed up by at least Annette and probably Felix. Maybe even Mercedes if she’s not already busy slinging Physics around.

Dimitri’s fine with just sitting around with a forged Steel Lance and poking holes in everything.

Beleth can do the same, but is much more reliant on dodging and not just facetanking axes.

The little “no damage!” sound effect is still very satisfying. Yes, game, my Defense/Resistance has escaped the bounds of your damage curve.

Dorothea became my Dancer unit, because despite Dimitri having twenty-eight Charm to her nineteen, he begged me not to and also is better sitting on a corner and killing everything.

Huh, the monastery is sure being invad--you know, Edelgard, if it wasn’t already really obvious that your faction is basically the “villain route” in Samurai Warriors parlance, using giant mop-headed demonic beasts as shock troops would probably give it away to observers. If they weren’t already running away in abject terror.

The principle from How to Train Your Dragon still applies: A downed dragon is a dead dragon. If Rhea didn’t want to basically get mobbed, she should’ve stayed in the air and acted as flying artillery for the Knights of Seiros with her mouth laser. She could’ve sat on top of a wall and fired with relative impunity.

Sure, some demonic beasts can fly, but there weren’t any in that cutscene and the flying ones have, mechanically, one less health meter than the landbound ones.

Also, they’re pushovers.

And there’s the washed-out creep brigade! They look like the Grimleal, but with more feathers and less of a tan.

...And there goes Beleth, off to have a five-year nap.

Welp.

Post Timeskip:

Oh good, it’s been five years. Beleth, I hate to break it to you, but you’re probably at least slightly dragon at this point. Check your ears if you have a chance.

Tiki canonically napped for like 99% of her three thousand years in Awakening, ironically enough, so it’s not like dragon-people are exactly early risers.

Poor rando gets asked “what year is it” like that question is ever used outside of fiction. Beleth doesn’t read time travel books, I take it.

“oh you probably shouldn’t go to the monastery, it’s like super haunted and shit”

“sorry what was that i couldn’t hear you over the sound of me climbing up to the monastery”

Eyyyy, it’s a lance-wielding pirate.

...Hi, Dimitri. Where’d your macaroni hair go.

You know, it’s not surprising that Dimitri would think Beleth was a hallucination. He spent a lot of time yelling at his inner demons even pre-timeskip, after taking a couple of severe psychological shocks.

But he absolutely should have walked into her and been surprised when he knocked them both on their asses.

He’s been spending the last five years stabbing people, hasn’t he.

Yep.

He looks like he fell out of Game of Thrones.

Blue Lions! Rah rah something team chant. Rah rah Rasputin, lover of the Russian queen~

None of you people trained any of your skills. In five years. Dimitri you were a paladin. Did you eat your horse.

You are all getting sent to boot camp.

Hi, Gilbert. Why are you playable now all of a sudden. Why is your speed a fucking two.

THIS IS WHY MIKLAN HANDED YOU YOUR ASS.

Once again, the “plunk Dimitri’s overleveled ass down on a corner and watch people die” plan is still a valid strategy. I still don’t know where he gets all this strength (and charm). Like, goddamn.

Annette got cornered for like five turns because I was too cowardly to put her in range of a Brawler.

Then she killed him with a critical Fire.

So, I guess Felix’s remarks about Dimitri’s issues make some sense now, but he should still stop making them. I know he’s a tsundere par excellence, but still.

STop TalKing AboUT KilLing PeoPle

Warning: Sympathetic Boss Approaching.

Look, most “sympathetic” bosses in Fire Emblem kinda fall flat. The better ones are placed in the way of the player characters while they’re in the middle of a low point in the emotional arc and get utterly wrecked in a flurry of misdirected fury. Sometimes the characters even feel bad about it afterward. The worst ones are the ones who are just utterly devoted to someone who’s earned everyone’s ire by being a utter fucking asshole.

Good: Mustafa from Awakening and Shiharam from Path of Radiance. Good people forced into bad situations. Or just cornered. Henry talked up the former long after he got a Chrom to the face, and the latter was probably the best-written of the “aw, I wish I didn’t have to kill him” bosses I’ve run across.

Bad: Levail from Radiant Dawn. There is no getting around the fact that General Zelgius was a bad dude. Levail holding him up as a paragon of knightliness and swearing to serve him out of sheer admiration did not make him even marginally better.

We sure did kill Caspar’s uncle, didn’t we. I’m sure that won’t come back to bite us square in the ass. Not after he had that “this guy is a person who cares about stuff” cutscene to remind us of his pixel humanity.

I’m sure it’s fine.

Bwoop, bwoop, everyone say hello to Ferdinand and Lorenz! And say goodbye to Ferdinand, because he didn’t allow himself to be recruited pre-timeskip, isn’t recruitable post-timeskip, and then I had Felix kill him with Thoron.

Lorenz can rejoin us, though. He doesn’t count as an enemy commander once he’s been smacked down to 0 hp.

HI, DEDUE. WHY ARE YOU ONLY LEVEL TWENTY. GET IN THE BACKLINES AND DON’T TALK TO ME UNTIL YOU CAN ACTUALLY DAMAGE ANYTHING.

(Seriously, tho, I was waiting for Dedue to come back for two reasons. One: I did that paralogue of his way back in Part One and he did not get to die after all that. Two: Part of Dimitri’s epic slide into “spear-wielding mountain man who runs around killing people with his bare hands” had to do with Dedue “dying” during the timeskip. That jackass cracked a smile for the first time in ingame years thanks to the world’s punchiest bodyguard coming back alive.)

(Fortress Knight is still the worst class.)

I totally didn’t pay any attention to what, if anything, actually separated Master classes from Advanced classes other than my inability to get my hands on Master Seals. So Ashe is a Bow Knight now, while Felix made it to Mortal Savant (wtf is that name and why is the class model basically a samurai) and I spent a very long time level-grinding Sylvain’s Reason skill to make him a Dark Knight. I aimed for Gremory with all my spellcaster girls, but I admit to not really paying attention to specifics.

(I ended up with five Gremories: Annette, Flayn, Mercedes, Lysithea, and Dorothea. Bernadetta became a Bow Knight and Marianne promoted eventually to a Holy Knight. Dorothea also ended up taking Mortal Savant, which she didn’t ever use.)

(Seteth became a Wyvern Lord and Dedue eventually made it to Warrior.)

(Byleth qualified for Mortal Savant and used it precisely no times.)

(It became pretty clear that I just threw Master Seals at people whenever the possibility of promoting them came up.)

(Certification is a weird system.)

I stopped paying a ton of attention to supports around the time I realized that Ferdinand wasn’t going to be recruited no matter what I did in the final month before Shit Went Down.

Then I started paying attention again like two chapters from endgame, because I remembered some A-ranked supports meant that the characters could get paired endings.

I also stopped ignoring Cyril and started using him as an adjutant, though his stats never quite caught up to Seteth (also known as the only instructor unit I ever consistently used).

Cornelia is absolutely a Morlock plant. That is a face she just made, even in flashback.

I wish we could've seen Dimitri’s now-dead uncle, if only because I’m curious. Also, what did Edelgard’s mom/Dimitri’s stepmom look like?

Why is there always a fire level. I saw it earlier thanks to doing Ingrid and Dorothea’s paralogue, but it’s a Fire Emblem stock level type and I hate it.

Okay, yeah, this area totally got nuked. Magitech nukes, but still. It’s still on fire centuries later? Why??

Felix’s dad is a Holy Knight. Why do I have to keep his ass alive on a field when half the enemies are barely Advanced classes, never mind Master classes.

Oh right, because I want the exp for myself.

Rodrigue is possibly the single person here who can make Dimitri’s murder-bender change direction even slightly. He also gets along with his actual son so much worse than that. He’s like Annette’s dad, but with actual verbal confrontations.

There’s Caspar’s not-exactly-forgotten aunt, here to “secretly” avenge her dead brother. Dude, could you say something about that?

Three levels later: I thought we were done with the dad-stabbing.

Felix has officially lost Too Many People in pursuit of keeping Dimitri alive. As has everyone else, frankly.

In other routes, Dimitri absolutely runs his campaign off a cliff.

Here, he turns his life around. More or less. Gotta make the choice to get better.

Time to take back the Kingdom’s capital, like we’ve not been doing for four chapters now. Finally.

Cornelia is absolutely a Morlock plant. This is like the fourth character who supposedly did a complete characterization 180 after a period of being actually useful to other people. Goodbye, civil engineer we never knew.

I think the only infiltrator who did things properly was Solon, but he still dropped his disguise for no good reason early in the game. That operatic level of drama is not a trait that helps him survive a month later. Just goes to show that the Morlocks don’t have more than one type of good judgment at a time, I guess.

I know I’m supposed to avoid the giant doom robots, but...

No, it turns out I can just have Dimitri and Beleth stand in the middle of the killzone and destroy them for fun and profit.

Ding dong the witch is dead.

Welp, time to go save the Alliance, which is getting schooled by the Empire.

HI CLAUDE.

I MISSED YOU AND YOUR FAITH IN HUMANITY. And specifically in Dimitri, for some reason? I think he kinda stabbed your soldiers a lot the last time you two met, but feel free to keep being the Best Character.

Your bodyguards are top-notch, man. One of them got hit with anything over the course of the entire battle.

Your general Judith, however, necessitates Flayn using ALL of her Rescue spells just to keep her alive.

I still had to send Ashe to keep a Falcon Knight off you, but no big.

And also had to send Hilda and Petra to kill the Asshole Reinforcements to nick their stuff.

Dimitri sat there and dodge-tanked all of Arundel’s attempts to kill him until the team killed everybody else. Then Dimitri poked him and he died. Dimitri OHKOs everything except monsters now, and that’s only because they have multiple health meters.

And then Claude fucks off to become king somewhere else. Okay then. It was a nice speech, though.

Killing the Death Knight for fun and profit and now Mercedes is crying. Shit.

Doesn’t this place get vaporized in every other route?

Did killing so many Morlocks by accident lock us out of seeing an intercontinental ballistic missile?

(And it is by accident, because this route is like the only one where the Morlocks are incidentals instead of the main problem, partly due to Dimitri’s tunnel vision and partly just because they don’t drop their disguises upon death.)

Well, I guess it’s time to confront Edelgard.

It’s completely valid of her to look at the guy who was threatening to rip her head off with his bare hands and hang it from the gates of the Empire’s capital a little while ago, and then go “Yeah, diplomacy’s shot.” That Dimitri stopped being quite so all-consumingly homicidal a bit ago is not actually reason to try throwing herself on anyone’s mercy. I feel kinda bad for her, since she’s been pushed into this corner and her ace-in-the-hole allies are basically decapitated, and I stole all her potential friends back during the school phase of the game.

Also, sunk cost fallacy.

Still walloped the entire roster of the second-to-last level, down to killing Hubert with Lysithea. Hilda and Cyril killed all the bird demons.

On the final level, which starts immediately after the previous one, three characters got totally destroyed by the sheer number of mages floating around: Dimitri (whose Avoid finally failed him four times in a row), Hilda (same), and Dedue (thirded). Seteth miraculously survived taking 68 points of damage from a single attack, and then later went on to take Edelgard’s last health bar off with a crit.

Weirdly, Beleth’s Avoid was just fine. Finally let her use the Sublime Sword of the Creator and she killed most of the Gremories that took out Dimitri and Hilda.

And everybody we could save per plot constraints got to live! (Except Ferdinand.)

I’m willing to save him on subsequent routes because killing him made Dorothea sad.

Next time: Lang plays the route that screws over most of these people in service of killing the God-Pope.

#Lang plays Fire Emblem: Three Houses #fire emblem three houses #spoilers #Lang Plays #fire emblem

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