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sheepwithspecs · 7 months

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Architects of the Ashes: Chapter 1

|| FFXIV || Rated M || (1 / ???)

Ao3 Link

At the edge of the known universe, the Warrior of Light's simple wish has some unintended consequences. Now it's up to Eachna—and her many friends at the Last Dregs—to help a newly reconstructed Zenos learn how to be a better person. Fortunately for him, his mirror isn't the best role model when it comes to playing by the rules.

“One small organ that beats hard enough to shake the universe─ a spark of hope to shape a star.” - N-7000

Deep in the desert of my heart, a lonely flower blooms—

Although Tataru had never set foot on Ultima Thule, her favorite ballad echoed across the barren landscape of dead stars. It drifted above the sandy dunes of the Ea, whose people had long ago forgotten what it felt like to vibrate one’s vocal chords in a rhythmic and pleasing manner. It echoed in the craggy cliffsides of Reah Tahra, where dragons in decaying nests recalled the long-lost days when they, too, had lifted their voices together in song.

Yearning for the heavens above—

The refrain reached Base Omicron, sensors and satellites alight with its warbling vibrations. Military units paused in their daily tasks, clawed hands grasping at the air as they processed the foreign noise as illogical data. The only song heard in this place was of utter despair, not love.

To quench my thirst for you—

In the Last Dregs, the melody was finally lost amidst the clanking platters and rattling silverware. The only one able to hear its faint stirrings was possessed of large, furry ears.

“Hmm?” Jammingway turned, tilting their head and cupping one ear to better hear over the buzz of multiple conversations. Closing their eyes, they focused on the tiny voice that seemed to call from beyond the very stars themselves.

“Analysis?” N-7000 joined them at the edge of the café’s large stone steps, hovering in place as it waited for the Loporrit to speak.

“Unless my ears deceive me—and it’s rare they do—that sounds an awful lot like Eachna.” N-7000 whirred, gears churning as it scanned the distant horizon.

“Affirmative,” it replied, after a moment’s processing. “Approaching life-form from the ship Ragnarok meets appropriate specifications for classification as allied unit D’arcy, Eachna. Estimated time of arrival: one bell.”

“Mother be praised!” Jammingway cheered, pumping their furry fist with excitement. “Perfect timing, too! You couldn’t ask for a better day for a picnic; not an astromagnetic storm in sight. I’ll go right now and start a fresh batch of carrot soup.”

“This unit does not understand the motive behind such actions.” N-700 buzzed thoughtfully. “Allied unit Eachna has shown an average satisfaction rate of 27.4% for carrot soup. Alternate menu items guaranteed to achieve optimum satisfaction rates: roast hamsa, seaweed salad, braised—”

“What are you talking about, you bucket of bolts? Everyone loves carrot soup!”

_______________________________________________

Eachna panted as she climbed the sprawling structure above Base Omicron, one hand rubbing at the persistent stitch in her side. The rock-strewn path zigzagged beneath her boots, precarious footholds anchored by solid bridges of aquamarine crystal. In some ways, the fragmented landscape reminded her of the Floating City of Nym, although these floating structures were devoid of life yet. The few scrubby vines that sprouted among the stones were brown and dried, crumbling to ashen powder beneath her heels.

At last she crested the final rise, standing on the solid expanse of barren land that bordered the abandoned plaza. The Last Dregs glowed brightly in the perpetual twilight, a true beacon of hope outshining everything for malms around. Even the fluorescent lights of the Omicron base weren’t half as bright. She quickly passed through the dusty plaza, drawn to the golden warmth that seemed to emanate from the café.

As she approached, she realized that the number of customers had nearly tripled in size since her last visit. Shadows danced along the curved shelves as Elysion’s inhabitants passed through the café, milling about on the stone steps and leaning against the round pillars as they conversed with one another. Omicron units hovered from station to station, waiting tables and explaining the menu to curious patrons. Other units scanned the finished diners as they bussed the tables, cataloguing the different gustatory sensations before delivering them to groups of delighted Ea.

A Karellian soldier, seated at a table of friends and former enemies, noticed her and waved cheerfully. Eachna waved back, the hairs on her bare arm lifting as a levin-charged Miw Miisv drifted aimlessly by. A ghostly dragon took to the skies, soaring high with an echoing roar. Her mouth watered at the rich scent of freshly ground coffee carried on its pale wings.

She couldn’t help but smile, cheeks dimpling at the sight of so many people. For untold ages, despair had held full sway over this empty land; now, both the café and its patrons were thriving. If Stigma-4 continued to create replicas from the dead stars, Ultima Thule would be filled to flowing with new life in no time at all.

N-7000 might call it a job well done, but it was so much more than that. The Last Dregs was standing proof of convictions she’d held for ages, ones so deeply rooted that it was near impossible to convey in words. Her heart swelled in her chest, fit to burst with the overwhelming rightness of it all.

“Eachna!” Jammingway called to her from the café entrance, waving with both arms as they ran towards her. “Welcome back, it’s been far too long!”

“Correction,” N-7000 buzzed, floating a half-step behind. “It has been exactly seven moons, two weeks, four days—”

“Oh, hush! You know what I meant, Forky!” Eachna couldn’t help but laugh at the scrunched little scowl on their face. “And anyway, who’s counting?”

“It has been a long time,” she conceded, kneeling down to clasp Jammingway’s proffered paws. “I can see the Last Dregs is doing well for itself. There’s not an empty table in sight.” Her lips quirked as she caught sight of a quivering Ea, clearly overcome by the culinary sensation it was experiencing. Its fellows bombarded it with countless questions, gelatinous heads detaching to float above the Omicron barista’s dome.

“Isn’t it a dream come true?” Jammingway gushed. “Even the Nibirun have settled in and made themselves at home. I actually caught one laughing the other day—laughing! It’s better than I could have ever imagined; the place practically runs itself. Not that I need you taking that as another sign to hibernate,” they added, glancing accusingly at N-7000.

“Fret not. Hibernation is not within this unit’s near future.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Eachna laughed. “All of it, really.” Turning, she looked again at the patrons enjoying their meals. The golden light blurred and she blinked in surprise, reaching up to find that tears were building at the corners of her eyes. She swallowed back the lump in her throat, heart pounding almost painfully in her chest.

Thanks to Meteion, she had suffered alongside these people. She had watched their destruction, felt their anguish, mourned their deaths. Their undying despair had wrenched her heart in twain more than once during her journey to the center of the dying sun. Some had inspired pity, others anger. But every last one of them had been in immeasurable pain. Even the Nibirun, who chose peaceful death over a life with no purpose, had been in pain.

To see them now, knowing where they had once been…. Jammingway was right: it was a dream come true. They deserved this second chance at life, to make right the wrongs which had led to their destruction. They deserved to learn and grow, to achieve happiness for its own sake. She turned her eyes to the vast star above the café, the wellspring of pain that had served as Metion’s nest. How many memories remained inside, trapped by the twisted dynamis of their own despair?

I want them all to have this second chance. Every last one of them.

“And anyway,” Jammingway prattled on, oblivious to her musings, “since you’re here, I thought we might have a picnic! I packed all the best foods the café has to offer. We have carrot soup, carrot salad, carrot juice, carrot cake—”

“Oh… erm, that’s… that’s great!” Eachna managed a smile, brows knitted in consternation. “I’m sure it’ll be delicious.”

“Be at ease.” N-7000 fairly vibrated with something akin to self-righteousness. “Unlike certain annoying life-forms, this unit took allied unit Eachna’s satisfaction rate into account when choosing appropriate sustenance.”

“Hey! What are you saying?” Jammingway fumed. “Eachna loves carrots just as much as I do! Don’t you?”

“I don’t hate carrots, per se….”

“Allied unit Eachna’s average carrot consumption does not exceed one half of her nutritional intake. As such, this unit took the liberty of adding—” N-7000 trailed to a stop, hovering silently with one arm outstretched.

“With what!? Just what have you added?” Jammingway insisted, stomping their feet. “If you’ve squashed my carrot cake by crowding the basket, I’m going to be very cross!”

“New life has arrived in Elysion.” N-7000 whirred, effectively ignoring Jammingway’s one-sided tirade. “Repeat, new life has arrived in Elysion. Scanners indicate only one life-form at this time.”

“What? Only one?” The carrot cake was completely forgiven—or forgotten for the time being—as Jammingway immediately shifted into entrepreneur mode. “That’s odd. Normally they show up in groups. Still, you know what they say: where one is, more may follow. The picnic will just have to wait. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all!” Eachna secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Carrots were not her favorite by any stretch of imagination, but Jammingway seemed determined to believe that everyone loved the orange vegetable just as much as they did. Perhaps she could sneak away long enough to check the contents of this picnic basket for herself….

“That settles it, then!” Jammingway beamed, hands on their hips. “Lead the way, N-7000! Let’s go meet our newest friend!”

_______________________________________________

“Are you absolutely certain the new life form landed up here?” Jammingway balanced precariously atop N-7000’s chassis, shielding their eyes with one paw from the glaring light of the dynamis staircase. The summit of the dead sun was shadowy in comparison, the bed of Elpis flowers a faint glow in the near distance. “All I see are stairs, stairs, and more stairs.”

“Affirmative. New life-form scan readings indicate this as the proposed landing trajectory.”

“But I thought that Stigma-4 created the simulations,” Eachna said, practically jogging to keep pace as they climbed the endlessly winding stairs. “Does the star just… spit them out?” Jammingway shrugged.

“Your guess is as good as mine. Normally they find Elysion long before we find them.” They lurched, grabbing hold of N-7000s rabbit ear accessories as the staircase grew steeper. “I wonder what sort of life-form we’ll meet this time? Do you recall any other civilizations from the Dead Ends?”

“I don’t think so.” All the civilizations she’d seen in the heart of the dead star were already café patrons: sweet, chubby Grebuloffs; armored, pedantic Karellians; graceful, nihilistic Nibiruns. As she pondered these strange races, she found her own curiosity rising alongside Jammingway’s. What would this new life-form look like?

Would they be large and powerful like the wraithlike dragons, or perhaps smooth and gelatinous like the Ea? Figure after figure flashed through her mind’s eye: malformed voidsent, gaunt sin eaters, bewhiskered kobolds, feathery Vanu Vanu, impish pixies… would this new person’s shape be something familiar, or wholly new? Would they be calculating, or emotional? Despondent, or hopeful?

Lifting her eyes towards the summit, Eachna stopped short at the sight of a weapon at the top of the staircase: a long, curved blade, wider than the span of her arm at its thickest and tapering to a razor-sharp point. It was attached to an even longer shaft, knocked sideways as though it had fallen from a great height only to lodge itself deep into the cracked earth. Her eyes traced the familiar bony plating along the blade’s outer edge, breath catching in her throat at the sight of a broken revolver cylinder hanging askew from the handle.

“Oh, no.”

“What is it?” Jammingway leaned forward eagerly, ears pricked and nose twitching. “Do you see them?”

“It can’t be.” The reaper stone seemed to burn a hole in the pocket of her knapsack, the collected aetheric signatures within drawn to the scythe at the top of the stairs. She gulped back the emotions threatening to overpower her, gorge rising and fingertips tingling at the memory of fighting to draw her bow with slippery, bloodstained hands. Her very muscles seemed to burn with a phantom ache, the echoes of a fight that ended only when the last flickering embers of her life could no longer withstand the onslaught.

“Eachna?” Jammingway looked at her strangely. “Are you alright? You look a little pale…. Well, you always look pale, especially here, but this is even worse—”

“Allied unit’s heart rate is increasing at an exponential pace—”

“It just can’t be!” Eachna took the remaining stairs two at a time, tripping on the topmost step in her rush and landing facefirst on the scorched earth. She stumbled to her knees, scraped palms burning as she brushed the stains from her trousers, and groaned aloud at the sight before her. “Oh, isn’t this just a—” Her tongue felt too large for her mouth, jaw working as she searched for the right oath to express the depths of her frustration.

“You!” she finally spat, picking up a handful of the ashen dust and flinging it—rather unsuccessfully—at the figure lying eagle-spread in a heap of crushed flowers. “Damn you to all seven bloody hells!”

“What’s the matter? Is it a— wait a minute!” Jammingway practically wilted on the spot. “That’s no alien life-form! That’s an Etheiryan!”

“Scanners indicate unconscious life-form is composed of dynamis,” N-7000 protested.

“Okay, okay! Don’t blow a gasket.” Jammingway slipped from the unit’s shoulders, dangling for a moment from one clawed appendage before landing deftly, if not gracefully, at its side. “So he’s a dynamis simulation. That still doesn’t explain what an Etheiryan was doing inside the dead star, nor how he came to be there in the first place.”

“Oh… that’s partly my fault.” Eachna winced. “We had a fight to the death, and I might have left him there? Accidentally?”

“You—a fight to—left him—” Jammingway’s look of abject horror gave way to weariness. “I don’t even know which part of that sentence to address first.”

“It’s not like I meant to do it!” Gathering her courage, she crept close enough to toe the heel of one heavy boot. She kicked at it lightly, watching for any signs of regaining consciousness. “Of all the people in all the worlds,” she sighed, “why did it have to be you?”

“Parameters for acceptable simulations of life-forms for Elysion were recently altered by fluctuations in dynamis,” N-7000 stated. “Cause of anomaly: allied unit Eachna.”

“Me!?” she echoed in dismay. “But I didn’t even do anything this time! And I certainly didn’t ask for him!”

“Through dynamis, you expressed a desire—a “wish”, as this overexcited life-form continues to insist—that all sentient beings within Ultima Thule might experience a second chance at life through simulated existence. As this life-form’s last documented location was well within parameters, he has been restored accordingly.”

“I can assure you, this is not what I meant.” Eachna’s shoulders slumped. “Does this even count as a second chance? It’s not really him,” she pointed out. “It’s just a copy.” Even as she spoke, she remembered how he had once transcended death using the power of the Resonance. Could such a thing possibly happen again?

“Regardless of intent, this life-form form now exists in the same capacity as all other life-forms within Elysion,” N-7000 answered. “Metaphysically, we are but memories recreated for the purpose of continued study by Stigma-4. Alternatively, philosophical debate documented between the Ea and the Nibirun suggest that the nature of said existence—whether or not we are “real”—is wholly reliant upon individual interpretation.”

“That means it’s really up to him in the end, isn’t it?” Jammingway mused. “Still, we probably ought to wait until he’s settled in before asking those sorts of questions. Just thinking about them is enough to give me a headache.”

“Cranial pain aside, this unit is in agreement.”

“That’s fine and all, but it still doesn’t help in this situation.” Eachna rubbed her eyes wearily. “You don’t realize what he’s capable of.” She let the knapsack slip from her shoulders, digging through the many pockets until she emerged with her battered codex. Flipping through pages of notes, she finally settled on one near the end and handed it to Jammingway. “This will tell you more than enough.”

“Archaic,” N-7000 buzzed, scanning the page and committing the contents to memory. “Assimilating data for future calculations—!! Results not favorable.”

“You’re not kidding!” Jammingway shook their head, paw sliding down the page as they read through the notes at a slower pace. “If this Zenos wakes up and decides to make Ultima Thule his new hunting grounds, all our hard work could be undone!”

“Calculated levels of despair exceed all known parameters.”

“My point exactly.”

“Query: what course of action should be undertaken?” N-7000 turned to Eachna, scratching its dome. “Immediate termination of life-form would directly oppose the mission objective.”

“That’s also not very fair, is it?” Jammingway closed the codex with a heavy thud. “If we judged every patron based on their past actions, the café wouldn’t have any clientele at all. And after all, you were the one who wanted everyone to have a second chance.”

“Agreed. This unit also acknowledges the accountability of allied unit Eachna.”

“Huh? Why me?!” Taken aback, Eachna raised her hands in an admittedly paltry defense. “What am I supposed to do about him? I can’t very well take him with me when I leave.”

“This is factual. In their current state, simulations would become highly unstable without an accessible form of dynamis. Departure is unadvised.”

“Bugger.” She gazed down at the Garlean prince, sprawled amidst the flowers. The expression on his face was calmer than she’d ever seen it, passive as though in deepest slumber. A part of her hoped that he might be dead, but even in the murky shadow she could see the regular rise and fall of his chest. Each breath stirred the fine blonde hairs trapped beneath his cheek, pale as death against the backdrop of his crumpled cloak.

“Alright,” she finally said. “This is what we’re going to do. N-7000, I want you to take this scythe and hide it somewhere. The café, Elysion, Base Omicron: I don’t care, just so long as it’s in a spot he won’t be able to access easily. We have to make sure he stays unarmed until I can convince him not to go around picking fights with anything that moves.”

“Affirmed. This unit will follow your orders to the best of its abilities.”

“Jammingway, can you make sure no one from the café comes anywhere near this area for a while?” She ran both hands through her curls, tangling them in her fingers and tugging as she thought. “Hopefully I’ll have a plan by the time he wakes up, but in any case it’s probably best that I speak to him alone first. I don’t want to fight him again unless I absolutely have to.” There was no guarantee that she’d be so lucky this time, without the Scions there to pull her back from the brink with their healing magics.

“You can count on me! I’ll make sure no one even looks in this direction until you give the signal!”

“As for me….” Eachna plopped down at his side, stretching her legs as she made herself comfortable. “You’re right. If I summoned Zenos, even by accident, that makes him my responsibility—at least for the moment. I’ll stay here until he wakes up. After that, whatever happens will simply have to happen.” Her tone was nonchalant, borderline cheerful; despite this, the flowers nearest her grew dull with unease.

“This unit would like to call your attention to the Gordhona Guardian located at the Last Dregs. Its protocols advise for the termination of rude intruders.”

“N-7000’s right.” Jammingway returned the codex, flapping their ears with a rosy smile. “If you get into trouble, just scream really loudly and we’ll come running to help. Okay?” She nodded, and together they watched as N-7000 wrenched the scythe from the earth, leaving behind a divot roughly the size of a small fissure.

“By the way, Eachna.” They stared openly at Zenos, nose twitching. “The way I understand it, we Loporrits have a different sort of society than the people on Etheirys. When he was helping us on the moon, Urianger told us all about the different type of relationships you all can have with one another. Some of them seemed relatively straightforward, but others were quite complicated.”

“Yes? What about it?”

“In the codex, you wrote that Zenos thought of you as his friend. But he also tried to kill you, and nearly succeeded.” Jammingway looked at her thoughtfully. “Is that a complicated sort of friendship?”

“I—” Before she could formulate a response, Zero’s words echoed in her mind. Zenos called you "friend." That's what you are? A friend? At the time, she’d been too startled at the sight of his avatar made flesh to say much on the subject. Even now, she had no clue what—or how—she felt about the fallen prince. Jammingway waited patiently for her answer, bright eyes unwavering.

“I think… that it was very complicated,” she agreed slowly. “Whether it still is remains to be seen.” Jammingway nodded, reaching out to pat her knee gently before following N-7000 down the glowing stairs. Eachna watched them leave, squinting until they were little more than two floating dots in a sea of shadows. She reached out and picked a flower, twirling the stem between her fingers as she thought.

Everyone deserves a second chance, the little voice in her head whispered. It often reminded her of Fray, only less bloodthirsty and more argumentative. But society so loves to force its arbitrary rules. Gaius serves Werlyt while Yotsuyu lies cold in the grave. Miracles happen every day, but Hermes will never regain what was lost. You yourself are torn between your brotherly love for Themis and the knowledge that you are destined to end his life. Why must one earn repentance while another suffers? What balance can be found in this mindless rule?

They earn repentance through their deeds, she argued, plucking the petals from the stem. By learning from the past and choosing to make amends.

Is that the case? Well, then: who are you to deny him that choice? You are his mirror, the reflection of what he can become. If he must learn, then teach him. If he needs growth, guide him.

And at the end, if he still chooses to dream of battle? What then?

Why, then you take responsibility.

“Seven hells,” she muttered, casting the petals aloft. With no breeze to bear them, they fluttered to land at her heels. “How am I supposed to teach you to behave?” she asked the sleeping figure, tracing his jawline with her eyes. “Are you even going to listen to me?” But towards you and you alone, he behaved...differently. And I cannot fathom why.

“I guess we’ll find out together.”

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raxistaicho · 9 months

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Ronan the Philosopher! Edelgard in Thracia, chapter two

On to chapter two, my fellow Red Lady fans!

It gets worse.

Before we start,

DO NOT FUCKING GO PESTER REYNA IN HER COMMENTS SECTION. I DON'T WANNA SEE PEOPLE COPY-PASTING MY ARGUMENTS HERE IN COMMENTS TO HER EVER AGAIN.

Anyways, I figured it'd be useful to give a brief rundown on the setting in which this story takes place, because not a lot of people will have played Thracia 776, I imagine.

So, first, the story takes place on the Thracian peninsula:

It's split between the north and the south.

North, once an independent coalition of kingdoms known as the Munster District, was subjugated years before this story began and is now under occupation by the Granvalle Empire and has been renamed the Kingdom of North Thracia. Duke Bloom of the Granvalle ducal family Friege is the appointed governor of the Imperial territory, making him king of the northern half of the peninsula. The north used to be a federation of smaller kingdoms, including Leonster (the former head kingdom, and the one which Leif is the heir of), Munster, Ulster, and Connacht. Ulster now serves as king Bloom's capital.

South, AKA the Kingdom of Thracia, ruled by king Travant. A mountainous, barren country inhabitated by wyverns, which the Thracians fly into combat. Formally they're independent of and at peace with the Granvalle Empire, but Travant is ambitious and desperate to save his starving kingdom by conquering the fertile north. Its capital is also called Thracia.

The border between the north and south is a roughly diagonal line that slithers between Tahra and Meace on the map above (Tahra in the north, Meace in the south). Though the peninsula is collectively called Thracia, usually anyone called a Thracian is specifically a southerner.

Now that we got that out of the way, on to the chapter itself:

Edelgard's helping out around Iz to keep her mind off of things. For some reason they're calling her Edie, even though that's... a very weird nickname for a bunch of peasants to call someone. It's explicitly the same nickname as the one Dorothea uses.

Because of her Crest she's super strong, as she herself says:

But everyone was treated that way; she simply stood out more because of her strength. (Serios's strength, that – that beast's strength, not hers. Not her family's-)

Edelgard never considered herself inhuman or beastly because of her Crest, Reyna. Definitely not her Crest of Seiros, in any case.

We then get a moment of Reyna trying to portray Edelgard as out of touch:

And the labor was ceaseless in Iz. In the weeks she'd first arrived in this strange place after her death(?), while she'd been recovering, Edelgard had thought it a little odd that she almost never saw Ronan and his mother sitting down to play a board game, have a snack and talk about something frivolous, read a book or play games with the locals.

Because it makes total sense for the woman who started a rebellion to give the lower class the same opportunities the nobility enjoyed to expect peasants to live a life like that of nobles.

Oh, and, this is coming from the canonical workaholic whose most furtive desire is to just be able to enjoy a day off.

That said, Reyna does a really nice job painting the kind of bleak and toil-filled life a medieval peasant would endure:

There was never time to be sitting idle; there were always repairs that needed to be done, always food that needed to change hands, always wood that had to be collected to keep the houses warm, animals that needed to be wrangled, baskets that needed weaving, fish to be caught, and that was just the more important chores. Edelgard had lost count of how many times she'd had to trek to the wells and draw up buckets of water over the past few months; there wasn't a single house in the village, including the church, that had a running water system. Washing clothes for the house was another hours-long chore that started before the sun rose and ended late in the afternoon at best; without the soaps and wheels Garreg Mach had, it stunned her how much more effort such a basic and necessary chore took. The town hadn't known anything about the relation between keeping their streets clean and keeping sicknesses away; when Edelgard had impressed the importance of it on them, she'd created another job that caught her flat footed with the time and energy it demanded. She would return to the guest room that belonged to her now and crash into it, unable to think, and fall asleep knowing she would have to do much of it again the next day. Food was always in short supply. The villagers all took a tough man attitude on the matter when she asked why they had so little, about how they were no nobles who would die of starvation if they didn't have three course dinners with cake included; but Edelgard had gotten alarmingly used to skipping her morning meal so Ronan and Contessa always had even the crumbs of a meal in their too-bare cupboard.

Unfortunately, this is not leading to, "I was right that we should have improved society somewhat," but, "this is only because of Arvis's occupation and I did the same thing to Fodlan :(((("

How was it that she was living a rougher life here, in a town where she was welcome and accepted, than when she'd been reduced to an exile living on King Lambert's charity by her bitter stepmothers? How? How was that possible?

So much to unpack in one little paragraph.

First off, "living on King Lambert's charity." She wasn't mooching in Faerghus, she was kidnapped (it's implied Arundel did it to keep her safe during the Insurrection, but still) and living there against her will.

Secondly, there's nothing to support the assertion that she was living in Faerghus because of Ionius's concubines.

Thirdly, no, Edelgard's time in captivity underneath Enbarr is not going to be mentioned, why the fuck would it be, Reyna has a narrative to push!

She wants to make us think of Edelgard as some spoiled little princess who doesn't know anything about a hard life. Because Edelgard detractors have this notion in their heads that Edelgard knows nothing about the lives of the commoner-class so as to convince themselves that her ideals are built on shifting sand.

We're skipping ahead a little bit in which Edelgard delivers some wheat to the local baker, and she pauses a moment to worry about,

what the village might think of her if they found out she was a born and bred noble.

I'm sure this is leading up to some shocking twist in which they're fine with nobility, so that Edelgard can look foolish and ignorant again. Anyways,

She'd tried to learn about the history and geography of this country, Thracia. Oh, she'd tried. But the village's lack of means had stumped her at every turn

It shouldn't, you're in a fishing village out in the sticks, probably everyone here is illiterate. Much like in Fodlan, which Edelgard would be aware of. Hell, Christopher fucking Paolini got this right, Reyna!

only the church had a map or two along with anything resembling historical texts, and the priest had ruefully explained he'd been forced to bury books that were less than complimentary to the current regime.

...Why? Iz is in Thracia (as in, the Kingdom under Travant) judging from FE4's map, and there wouldn't be any kind of new big shakedown by Travant's soldiers.

But anyways, the reason why is Reyna's gonna paint the picture of an authoritarian anti-book regime and then probably suggest the same thing was happening in Fodlan under Edelgard. Even though. You know. The church was doing that themselves. They were literally burying the books, when you consider that the Shadow Library is underground!

Thracia was a land divided by the tragedy of the crusaders Nojurn and Dain

Njörun and Dáinn, Reyna. Look, I know Jugdral has big Spell My Name With an S problems, but the wiki is right there! All these names are official now! (Njörun and Dáinn were the crusader siblings - think the Ten Elites but genuinely heroic - who founded Leonster and the Kingdom of Thracia, respectively.)

Nojurn wasn't even a past fan translation of her name!

sister and brother who's conflict had accidentally resulted in the death of Nojurn's husband and the splintering of their people along that bloody line

Njörun's husband was fighting Dáinn, Reyna. Njörun herself was not said to be part of the conflict. Njörun accidentally killed her husband while trying to stop the fight, killed herself out of grief, and then Dáinn died mysteriously a few years later. The whole tragedy of Gáe Bolg was because Njörun used it (it being the weapon tied to her bloodline) to strike her husband down accidentally.

Several years ago, this historical tragedy had repeated itself when King Travant of Thracia, descendant of Dain, hunted down Prince Quan and Lady Ethlyn of Leonster – son of Nojurn and his wife – and slaughtered them in a brutal ambush, stealing their lands for one shining moment… only to be promptly subjugated by the Empire of Granvelle with barely a few months to enjoy his ill-gotten gains.

There was a lot more to the Munster District's (the northern half of the Thracian peninsula) downfall at Travant's hands, but that's more or less the long and short of it. Reyna's retelling implies Grannvale also took over the Kingdom of Thracia but they most certainly did not. Thracia is one of the few countries to remain independent throughout Arvis's reign, up until Seliph rolls on in.

“I hear Travant spoke a lot of pretty words about giving us food and honey that Leonster were hoarding from us in their lush and fruitful lands,” She told Edelgard over dinner when she'd asked about it.

I'll take, "something Travant would never do," for 500, Alex!

Now to give some credit, Thracia 776 smoothed out a lot of Travant's... unsavory portrayal from Genealogy of the Holy War, and his motive is really just to re-unify the peninsula to end the starvation in the south, but I just can not see him going to the commoners and pretending he's going to make everyone's lives better.

This is just a bit of mischaracterization so Edelgard can be erroneously compared to Travant.

“Well, I lived through that war and the Empire's arrival and I and my boy are still struggling. I'd say nothing has changed, but it has – for the worse." The densely populated land that she was introduced to were nominally under the control of a single ruler – the Emperor of Granvelle, Arvis.

It'd be under Bloom's rule, technically, though Arvis is obviously Bloom's superior. Yeah, don't expect much acknowledgement of Bloom, since he's not useful for the narrative Reyna wants to push in which she'll be comparing Edelgard and Arvis (and he doesn't appear in person in Thracia ever so she might genuinely have forgotten about him).

Edelgard committed the former kingdom names to memory – Chalphy, Yngvi,

Those are dutchies, not kingdoms. Houses Chalphy and Yngvi (for fucks' sake, she gets Njörun wrong but she gets Jungby's fucked up official translation right???) are two ducal houses of the former kingdom (now empire) of Grannvale. Sigurd hailed from House Chalphy.

Leonster, Augustria, Silesse, Verdanne, Issach,

Those are (or rather, were, thanks to Grannvale invasion) all kingdoms. Of them, only Leonster should be important to this story.

along with a few minor principalities like Darna.

Dahna's just a fortress city in the Aed Desert, there's no known prince there. These words have meaning, Reyna.

Then there was the Loptous Religion – cult, it was a cult, the priest told her not to confuse them with a normal religion. He told Edelgard that the head of the cult, a man named Manfroy, had taken advantage of the crown prince going mad after his mother's murder to become emperor in all but name, pushing Arvis to the side. Then he'd plunged Jugdral into horror and darkness the likes of which was only spoken in legend, of the time before the Crusaders.

This is gonna be compared to the Agarthans later on, even though Edelgard canonically had a much tighter lid on Thales than we ever see from Arvis with Manfroy.

I also can't imagine rando people out in the middle of nowhere knowing much about Manfroy.

Is it gall, that she still feels righteously outraged at the stories of a cult with a dead dragon at the helm bringing harm to humans?

I'm pretty sure the people of Jugdral didn't know that Naga, her companions, and Loptous were all dragons. They would have just viewed them as gods, much like how the people of Archanea ended up warping Naga into a giant human warrior.

And in any case, as I've said before, the word "dragon" does not appear to exist in Fodlan, so these commoners calling Loptous a dragon would have about as much impact on Edelgard as someone calling Satan a Smyrp would have for us.

I mean I know what Reyna is doing, Edelgard needs to have her Come to Seiros moment in this fic and part of that involves her realizing Dragons Good, Actually, but that Reyna has to warp Jugdral and Fodlan's established setting to get her message across demonstrates how poorly-applied it is.

Oh, but anyways, no that is not gall, Edelgard, it is normal.

She'd been so confident that she could be a hero and bullrushed head long into being that cult's pawn.

She was not anyone's pawn but yours, Reyna.

Why is she clenching her fists in rage and planning how she'd defend the town if minions of Loptous came calling?

Because Edelgard just kinda be like that: a protective, compassionate woman who can't stand to see innocents victimized. Anyways, Edelgard catches up with Ronan, who was out hunting. She ponders going to the closest village - implied to be Fiana, where Leif is secretly living in hiding - but Ronan tries to warn her off going.

The naked care for her, audible in his voice, makes Edelgard wince a little. It had been like this ever since they'd met months ago, and she's still not used to it.

Edelgard's just so unused to people being nice for the sake of it! In the hands of a better writer this could be a sad demonstration of Edelgard having lost the ability to trust thanks to all the suffering and betrayals she's endured in her short life, but since this is Reyna this is probably just her not being familiar with the concept of compassion in general.

There's so much I haven't told you about me. If you knew, you would reject me like you reject Travant and Manfroy. ...How she would even tell him, she doesn't know, but... the knowledge that Ronan thinks she's something she's not...

Oh, Edelgard, you siwwy, these people love the Good Nobles! Ronan suggests they go skip stones, which they've evidently done enough times that Edelgard has a reputation for being better than him. I thought these people had no time for leisure, Reyna? You wrote several paragraphs about that earlier in this same chapter!

Anyways, Edelgard asks whether Ronan's ever considered leaving in search of a better life, and we get this:

Ronan hesitated for a moment; Edelgard stood up and tossed her rock out. It skipped several times before vanishing beneath the water. “I do want better for us,” he confessed. “But… I mean, even if we managed to make the trip across all that water, there's no guarantee that things will be better wherever we land. Isn't it better to fight for the home you have than run away and just hope for the best?”

We did it, boiz!!!

This is literally just, "we can't risk making things worse in our attempts to make them better," liberalism. And it doesn't even work within the context of either Thracia 776 (because Lief... you know... he starts conflict to better the lives of his people...) or Three Houses (because Edelgard was literally fighting for her home, that home being Fodlan itself and not just Adrestia).

Edelgard points out how nobody seems to have the guts to fight with Ronan. Ronan then gets distinctly un-provincial.

“Yeah. It's true a lot of people are too scared to fight… or don't have the balls to.” He grimaced, glaring at the horizon. “But it can't stay like that forever. At some point we're either going to stand up in fight, or lie down and die. There's no point in surviving under the boot of monsters like this, with no one willing to uphold justice.”

Yeah, that's how a medieval peasant talks, dipping into abstract concepts like justice!

Then we get,

“Didn't the Emperor Arvis call creating this very Empire justice?” Edelgard prodded pointedly. Ronan snorted like a bull. “Of course he did; he had to pretend it was, after massacring Lord Sigurd and every other heir to Judgral who was in his army. And what was his 'justice'? Handing all of us over to the cult of Loptous, who he cozied up to in the first place to even get the crown.”

Who the hell handed Ronan the Genealogy of the Holy War game script? How would he know all this? I've mentioned he lives out in the sticks, now it's time to show how far away he is:

Ronan would be living right around where I circled there. Unlike Fiana, where Leif lived, Iz doesn't even have walls:

Like seriously? How does he know all this? Traveling bards spreading the word? Reyna's just twisting the world this story takes place in so she can have Ronan unknowingly blame Edelgard for unleashing terrible wrongs upon Fodlan.

“Justice to me is the food being hoarded at Belhalla and Travant's palace being distributed among people who actually need it.

I very much doubt Travant is hoarding food, at least not for himself. Famine is Thracia's biggest problem. Also, again, Ronan would probably be more likely to complain about Bloom hoarding food at Ulster, not Arvis at Belhalla (the capital city of the both the Kingdom of Granvalle and the Granvalle Empire).

Here's the thing. Arvis is so far removed from the wrongdoing at Thracia. In Thracia 776, the vast majority of the Imperial forces you fight are specifically the armies of House Friege, which, as I mentioned, is Bloom's ducal house. But that doesn't work for Reyna's narrative, because Arvis has several comparisons to draw with Edelgard and Bloom has none.

Justice is the children being taken by the hunts being returned home unharmed and the monsters participating in those sick games all being hung.

This sure does sound like something a medieval peasant would say. Also notice how Ronan's grammar and punctuation got a lot better?

By the way, this is how Ronan's dialogue is written in the newer fan translation:

Ma, I can't stay outta this any longer. I'll go and fight alongside— Oh, you must be with the Freeblades! I want to join y'all! I'm good enough with a bow and I can get around pretty fast. I won't hold you back none. That don't matter none! Every battle is somebody's first, right? Guess this'll be mine. I mean, maybe you can stand holing up in here an' waiting to die, but I sure can't!

Anyways, getting back to the more inexplicably well-read Ronan:

Justice is us actually getting all those pretty things Arvis promised us; education and safety nets and better roads and soldiers who aren't just thugs in armour protecting us.

Whatever Arvis actually promised is really vague - text limitations from the SNES days n'all - but this is so comically twisted to be similar to what Edelgard might've talked about that it's funny. Reyna has all the subtlety of a flying hammer.

Justice is getting back the families that actually cared for us and kept us safe, like Leonster and Chalphy.

"We want our good nobles back, please >:("

Dimitri needs to be validated in his belief that both sides have a point in the commoner vs noble divide. Now, obviously it does make sense that Ronan would want the families that didn't cause chaos back, but it's still such an unsubtle dig at Edelgard's "let's remove the nobility!" ideals.

Edelgard brings up the rumors that Leif's still alive, and Ronan remarks he'd join up with him in a heartbeat. Edelgard tries to warn him off jumping into war so eagerly - this is supposed to be her having second thoughts about war, guys! :D - but before the conversation can go very far, Lifis's pirates appear over the horizon to raid Iz.

This is very likely going to coincide with the events of Thracia 776's second chapter, in which the Fiana Freeblades - which Leif is not the leader of by the way, we'll see if Reyna gets that right - while marching to Munster to rescue the kidnapped Mareeta and Nanna, reach Iz as it comes under a raid by Lifis's pirates.

I'm not sure I'm ready to see what Reyna does with Leif, folks.

Anyways, that's the end of the chapter, so on to the author's notes!

Edelgard is interesting to write here at the beginning; I think that in a world where she survived past losing, she is very very subdued in the best case scenario.

There's a very good reason she asks for death, by word or by knife, in all three routes where she loses.

...

Please tell me Reyna doesn't think Edelgard was trying to kill Dimitri when she threw the knife at the end of AM.

Her ideals ruled her, and if they were broken by her war being a mistake and a failure,

Failure yes, mistake no.

she doesn't have much else at all. This is a broken Edelgard, who's going to rebuild herself upon being attached to a new cause.

The cause of coming to Seiros!

That process shall be…interesting.

I say "painful", but that's just me.

And to conclude, here's a couple choice takes from the comments.

From someone other than Reyna:

I really like the detail of Edelgard slowly learning how starkly different "a hard day's work" means for noble vs commoners: Garreg Mach gave a taste of that through chores, but it could never really replicate what it means to have to work day-in and day-out to scrap by during hard times.

"Hard times", being "all the time" when you're a medieval peasant.

Plus, her using her Crest enhanced strength for everyday labor is really great! It really lets her get a feel for just how helpful a power like that would be for commoners, while also letting her help the little guy out directly.

Yuuuuuup, you know where this is leading! "Crests good, actually!"

Reyna herself replies:

I'm glad you like it!; there really is no comparison. It always annoyed me how Edelgard claims in 3H proper that she's saving the 'oppressed' when it becomes so incredibly clear she has no idea what their lives are like -

"But Dimitri knows! Dimitri knows!" Except not Reyna's Dimitri because he never had that arc, but it's okay: he evidently just wanders around Faerghus, helping people with his super duper Crest strength. Because the sole living heir who almost died once when the king was murdered would be permitted to do that.

she hadn't even considered making free education available to them, given how startled she is when Ferdinand suggests it in their supports.

(weak laughter)

Of course Reyna buys into the "Edelgard didn't think of something that didn't exist until around the 1800's IRL, stupid girl!" argument.

And yes, her Crest strength is incredibly useful for things like this!

Edelgard didn't even CONSIDER the value of Crested laborers! What a foolish, short-sighted girl!

There is a reason that the exultation of Crests lasted for a thousand years; they have a tangible affect on people's lives.

Dimitri's criticized for being out of touch when he says this for a reason, Reyna.

Also the reason Crests were exalted for a thousand years is because the church decreed it so. The vast majority of Crested nobles would never use their Crest powers to directly better the lives of the people.

From another non-Reyna:

Regarding my stance on Edelgard, I like her, same with all the Lords and Rhea, but unfortunately, her stans who keep on white-washing the bad stuff she does on all the routes ruined her and her routes for me, like, I prefer those who straight up admit "yeah, my white-haired gurlboss is a war criminal, whatcha gonna do?" instead of the "my female anime waifu will never do anything bad.", despite the devs and the game itself stating that non of the lords are literal saints.

I love the ones who are all "I like her as a villain, why can't her stans admit she's a war criminal? :)"

Yeah, get back to me when Dimitri fans stop having a chronic issue with trying to excuse or downplay literal torture.

That's all for today! Later people!

#fire emblem three houses #edelgard discourse #edelgard von hresvelg #edelgard positive #thracia 776 #reynaattheend #sporking Reyna's fic #fanfic

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