Chapter 19: Act 3 Finale- The Search part 5; Tracking down Brady
"THE SACRED BLOOD OF HEROES GUIDES US!" Owain declared dramatically, brandishing his sword arm toward a distant monastery. "My sword hand twitches with the certainty that our companion of the healing arts awaits!"
Severa rolled her eyes, but couldn't quite hide her smile. "In other words, Brady's probably holed up in that church trying to keep the locals alive."
"A monk, you say?" Maribelle peered at the monastery through her lorgnette, her noble bearing as impeccable as ever. "And this friend of yours bears a resemblance to..." She glanced meaningfully at Cordelia, who was busy reviewing battle formations with Robin.
"Oh, you'll see," Owain's theatrical demeanor dimmed slightly as he shared a knowing look with Lucina. "Though I should warn you, his... ah... bearing might not be quite what you're expecting."
Odyn, riding beside Lucina, noticed the subtle tension in the future children's expressions. His dragon crest pulsed faintly as he scanned the surroundings for any demonic presence. Since his revelation about the true nature of their enemy, he'd been even more vigilant.
"There's something else," Lucina said quietly, just loud enough for their immediate group to hear. "The last report mentioned the monastery was under attack by Risen, but..."
"But they ain't movin' like regular Risen ought to, right?" A gruff, distinctly un-monk-like voice called out from the treeline. A figure emerged, wearing priest's robes that somehow managed to look like they'd been in a bar fight. Despite his rough appearance and the nasty scar over his eye, he held a healing staff with practiced ease.
"Brady!" Cynthia called out cheerfully, while Maribelle's eyes widened in shock.
"WHAT MANNER OF BEARING IS THAT FOR A HEALER?" she exclaimed, nearly dropping her parasol.
Brady winced, both at his mother's outburst and at something else. "Yeah, nice to see you too, Ma. But we got bigger problems right now." He turned to Odyn and Roy, their dragon crests catching his attention. "Those marks on your foreheads... they're reacting to something, ain't they?"
Odyn's expression darkened. "You've encountered them already."
"The demons?" Brady spat to the side, earning another horrified gasp from Maribelle. "Yeah, they've been using these Risen like puppets in some kinda twisted performance. Been trying to keep the wounded alive while they..." He trailed off, his tough exterior cracking slightly. "The way they make 'em dance before they kill... it ain't right."
Roy stepped forward, his own crest glowing. "How many civilians are still in the monastery?"
"Too many," Brady growled. "Been doing what I can, but these ain't normal enemies. They don't just kill - they perform." His hands tightened on his staff. "It's like they're turning every death into some kinda dark ceremony."
"Because they are," Sybyrh interjected, her scholarly tone belied by the steel in her orange eyes. "Each choreographed battle is a ritual, building power for their master's return."
Brady looked between Odyn and Sybyrh, understanding dawning in his eyes. "So that's why... in our future, when Odyn would..." He stopped, glancing at Lucina.
"When he would what?" Odyn asked quietly.
"When he'd tell us stories about the dark elves," Brady continued, his gruff voice softening with memory. "About how they were more than just victims - they were the last line of defense against something worse than Grima. None of us really understood then, being kids and all, but..." He straightened his priest's robes with unexpected dignity. "Now I get why he taught us all those protective wards. Why he made sure I learned every healing art I could, even when my hands were better suited for brawling."
"He was preparing you," Roy realized. "The future Odyn... he knew this day would come."
"Yeah, well," Brady managed a crooked smile, "guess it's time to put those lessons to use. Got a whole monastery full of folks needin' protection from demons, don't we?"
Maribelle, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly stepped forward. "While I have MANY questions about your apparent lack of proper decorum, I cannot deny the strength of your conviction to protect others." She opened her parasol with a flourish. "Very well then. Shall we show these demons how the nobility of Ylisse responds to threats against her people?"
Brady's eyes grew suspiciously moist. "Aw, Ma..."
"Save the tears for later," Severa cut in, drawing her sword. "Those daemon-controlled Risen are starting their next 'performance.'"
Indeed, from the monastery grounds, an ethereal and twisted music began to play as figures moved with unnatural grace in the growing dusk.
Odyn and Roy's dragon crests flared in response as they prepared for battle, while Brady raised his staff, beginning one of the protective chants the future Odyn had taught him so long ago. The air itself seemed to thicken with the clash of demonic and divine power, as another piece of the future children's complex past fell into place.
The heat of battle surrounded them as Brady channeled his magic, fingers tracing intricate patterns in the air. The protective ward materialized - a complex weave of ethereal light that caught Maribelle's attention immediately. Her eyes widened as she watched her son execute a technique she'd never seen before.
"Brady! Where did you learn such sophisticated magic?" Maribelle called out, her voice carrying both concern and pride as she guided her horse closer to her son's position.
Before Brady could answer, Odyn's voice cut through the chaos of battle, his orange eyes narrowing with recognition. "Careful," he warned, his dark skin contrasting with the blue hair that whipped around his shoulders as he turned to face the young healer. "That ward deals with power beyond what the human body can normally handle in prolonged uses."
Brady's grip tightened on his staff, the ward's light pulsing stronger around him. "Yeah, well, desperate times call for desperate measures, yeah?" His voice carried its usual gruff tone, but there was an underlying strain as he maintained the powerful magic.
The dark elf's pointed ears twitched slightly as he studied the familiar ward - one he himself would teach in a future that hadn't come to pass yet. It was a specialized protection, designed specifically to enhance one's capabilities against daemonic entities. The fact that his future self had taught this to Brady spoke volumes about the dire circumstances they must have faced.
Maribelle's expression shifted from amazement to concern as she processed Odyn's warning. "Brady, darling, please be careful with such powerful magic. I won't have my son endangering himself, even in the name of protecting others."
The risen approached their position, their movements jerky and unnatural, but with an unmistakable daemonic influence controlling them. The ward around Brady flared brighter, its power visibly strengthening his stance and the glow of his healing magic.
"Future you wouldn't have taught me this if there weren't times I'd need it," Brady said to Odyn, his voice steady despite the strain. "And right now, with these daemon-possessed risen? Seems like one of those times."
Odyn nodded gravely, his orange eyes reflecting the ward's light. "Just be mindful of its limits - and your own. Power like this always comes with a price."
The ward continued to pulse with energy as the Shepherds pressed forward into battle, its ancient magic providing them an edge against their supernatural foes. Yet Odyn's warning hung in the air, a reminder that even the most powerful protective magic could become a double-edged sword if wielded carelessly.
The heat of battle surrounded them as Brady channeled his magic, fingers tracing intricate patterns in the air. The protective ward materialized - a complex weave of ethereal light that caught Maribelle's attention immediately. Her eyes widened as she watched her son execute a technique she'd never seen before.
"Brady! Where did you learn such sophisticated magic?" Maribelle called out, her voice carrying both concern and pride as she guided her horse closer to her son's position.
Before Brady could answer, Odyn's voice cut through the chaos of battle, his orange eyes narrowing with recognition. "Careful," he warned, his dark skin contrasting with the blue hair that whipped around his shoulders as he turned to face the young healer. "That ward deals with power beyond what the human body can normally handle in prolonged uses."
Brady's grip tightened on his staff, the ward's light pulsing stronger around him. "Yeah, well, desperate times call for desperate measures, yeah?" His voice carried its usual gruff tone, but there was an underlying strain as he maintained the powerful magic.
Lucina moved swiftly to Odyn's side, her own face etched with concern as she watched Brady prepare the ward. Her hand instinctively found her husband's arm, gripping it gently. "Odyn, what exactly is this ward? You seem to recognize it." Her eyes, bearing the Brand of the Exalt, searched his orange ones intently. "If it's dangerous to Brady..."
The dark elf placed his hand over his wife's, his expression grave. "It's an ancient protection ward, my love - one specifically designed to combat daemonic entities. It temporarily infuses the user with enhanced strength and resistance against such foes, but..." He paused, watching as the ethereal light continued to pulse around Brady. "The human body wasn't meant to channel such intense power. Extended use can cause permanent damage to one's life force."
"Gods..." Lucina whispered, her grip tightening on Odyn's arm. "Brady!" she called out to her friend. "Please heed Odyn's warning. We can't afford to lose any of you to such risks!"
"Future you wouldn't have taught me this if there weren't times I'd need it," Brady said to Odyn, his voice steady despite the strain. "And right now, with these daemon-possessed risen? Seems like one of those times."
Odyn nodded gravely, his orange eyes reflecting the ward's light. "Just be mindful of its limits - and your own. Power like this always comes with a price. Use it in bursts - no more than a few minutes at most. Any longer and the damage could become irreversible."
The ward continued to pulse with energy as the Shepherds pressed forward into battle, its ancient magic providing them an edge against their supernatural foes. Yet Odyn's warning hung in the air, a reminder that even the most powerful protective magic could become a double-edged sword if wielded carelessly. Lucina stayed close to her husband, her sword at the ready, knowing that his knowledge from both timeline's could mean the difference between victory and tragedy in this crucial moment.
The battlefield erupted with renewed vigor as Brady activated the ward in controlled bursts, just as Odyn had advised. The ethereal energy pulsed around him in waves of silvery light, each surge lasting only minutes before he would deliberately let it fade, catching his breath before the next activation.
Chrom and Sybyrh moved in perfect synchronization at the front lines, the Exalt's Falchion gleaming alongside his dark elven wife's magic. Sybyrh's black hair, streaked with silver and gold, whipped through the air as she channeled her spells, her orange eyes blazing with the same intensity as her husband's blade. The royal couple had perfected their battle rhythm over countless fights, and it showed in every fluid movement.
"Now, Brady!" Lucina called out, timing her advance with one of his ward activations. The enhanced power surged through the battlefield, momentarily strengthening all their strikes against the daemon-possessed Risen. Her father Chrom seized the opportunity, cleaving through three Risen in a single sweep, while her mother Sybyrh's magic struck with doubled intensity.
Severa and Inigo worked in tandem, their future-forged partnership evident in every synchronized strike. "These daemons picked the wrong day to mess with us!" Severa shouted, her blade flashing as she cut down a Risen archer. Inigo spun through his deadly dance beside her, his sword work as graceful as it was lethal.
"Yahoo! Take that, you big meanies!" Cynthia swooped down from above on her pegasus, her lance finding its mark with enhanced precision thanks to Brady's ward. Her theatrical battle cries somehow managed to boost morale even in the thick of combat.
Odyn moved like a shadow through the chaos, his dark elven heritage evident in his fluid grace. His magic complemented Lucina's swordplay perfectly, creating openings for his wife's decisive strikes while she covered his casting intervals. His blue hair and orange eyes caught the light of various spells as he kept one eye on Brady, ensuring the young healer didn't overtax himself with the powerful ward.
"Ya see that, Ma?" Brady called out to Maribelle between ward activations, his gruff voice carrying a note of pride as he maintained the careful rhythm of power and rest. "Future Odyn taught me good!"
"Indeed he did, darling," Maribelle responded, her healing magic supplementing Brady's efforts when the ward was dormant. "Though do mind your grammar, even in battle!"
The villagers watched in awe as their saviors systematically dismantled the daemon-controlled Risen force. The combination of Brady's strategic ward usage, the future children's determined fighting, and the shepherds' experienced leadership gradually turned the tide. Where the Risen had initially threatened to overwhelm the village, they now fell one by one to the coordinated assault.
"Keep the pressure on!" Chrom commanded, voice carrying across the battlefield. "We've got them on the defensive!"
Sybyrh's magic crackled with intensity as she called out, "The daemon's control over these Risen is weakening! Press the advantage!"
The battle reached its crescendo as Brady activated the ward one final time, giving everyone the boost needed for a decisive push. The Shepherds and their future children surged forward as one, their combined might finally breaking the last of the daemon's hold over the Risen forces.
As the dust settled from battle and Brady caught his breath from his careful ward usage, Owain burst forth with his characteristic dramatic flair. He struck an elaborate pose, one hand covering his face while the other stretched toward Odyn and Roy.
"O mystical masters of the Dragon's power!" Owain proclaimed, his voice carrying across the makeshift camp with theatrical intensity. "My sword hand twitches with the desire to learn your ancient arts! Surely the combined might of my holy blood and your draconic teachings would create a warrior of unprecedented—"
"Owain," Roy interrupted, exchanging an amused glance with Odyn, their matching orange eyes twinkling with mirth, "that's not exactly how Dragon Crests work."
Chrom had to turn away, his shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. He pressed a hand to his mouth, trying to maintain some semblance of royal dignity, but failing miserably as his son-in-law Odyn attempted to explain.
"The Crest isn't something that can be taught, Owain," Odyn explained, his pointed ears twitching slightly with amusement. "It's more of a... birthright situation."
"SURELY!" Owain persisted, switching poses dramatically, "My own noble bloodline could resonate with your draconic essence! Picture it - Owain Dark, master of sword and scale!"
Sybyrh, standing beside her still-snickering husband Chrom, shook her head, her black hair with its silver and gold highlights catching the evening light. "That's not how any of this works," she said with a warm smile, her orange eyes matching her son Roy's bemused expression.
"But..." Owain deflated slightly before immediately perking up again. "Perhaps a special training regimen? A sacred ritual? A forbidden technique passed down through the ages?"
"Gods, you're impossible," Severa groaned from nearby, though there was a hint of fondness in her exasperation.
"The only thing that's forbidden is how much second-hand embarrassment I'm feeling right now," Brady muttered, still recovering from his ward usage.
Lucina couldn't help but smile as she watched her husband try to let their friend down gently. "Owain, perhaps you could channel that enthusiasm into practicing the skills you already possess?"
"AHA!" Owain brightened, not deterred in the slightest. "You speak wisdom, dear cousin! My sword hand shall continue its destined path while I search for alternative means to channel the power of dragons!" He struck another pose. "Perhaps through interpretive dance!"
This was the final straw for Chrom, who burst out laughing openly, joined by several other Shepherds. Even Sybyrh's composed demeanor cracked as she chuckled softly at the young man's antics.
Odyn and Roy shared a long-suffering look that somehow managed to be both exasperated and endeared, their orange eyes reflecting the same mix of amusement and resignation at their enthusiastic friend's determination.
"Should we tell him about the time you tried teaching Inigo to channel magic?" Roy whispered to Odyn with a smirk.
"Gods, no," Odyn whispered back, watching as Owain continued his dramatic proclamations. "He'd never let us hear the end of it."
The camp continued to ring with laughter and good-natured teasing, a welcome relief after the intensity of the earlier battle. Even Frederick, ever stoic, could be seen fighting back a smile as Owain launched into another grandiose speech about his "destined path to draconic enlightenment."
As the dust settled from battle and Brady caught his breath from his careful ward usage, Owain burst forth with his characteristic dramatic flair. He struck an elaborate pose, one hand covering his face while the other stretched toward Odyn and Roy.
"O mystical masters of the Dragon's power!" Owain proclaimed, his voice carrying across the makeshift camp with theatrical intensity. "My sword hand twitches with the desire to learn your ancient arts! Surely the combined might of my holy blood and your draconic teachings would create a warrior of unprecedented—"
"Owain," Roy interrupted, exchanging an amused glance with Odyn, their matching orange eyes twinkling with mirth, "that's not exactly how Dragon Crests work."
Robin, who had been reviewing battle tactics with Cordelia, looked up from his notes with a barely contained grin. "I must admit, his enthusiasm for learning new techniques is... admirable, if somewhat misguided."
"That's one way to put it," Cordelia replied, leaning against her husband's shoulder as she watched the scene unfold. "Though I suppose we should be grateful he's not trying to name the theoretical techniques yet."
"Don't give him ideas, dear," Robin chuckled softly.
Chrom had to turn away, his shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. He pressed a hand to his mouth, trying to maintain some semblance of royal dignity, but failing miserably as his son-in-law Odyn attempted to explain.
"The Crest isn't something that can be taught, Owain," Odyn explained, his pointed ears twitching slightly with amusement. "It's more of a... birthright situation."
"SURELY!" Owain persisted, switching poses dramatically, "My own noble bloodline could resonate with your draconic essence! Picture it - Owain Dark, master of sword and scale!"
Frederick, standing at attention as always, cleared his throat. "Milord," he addressed Chrom, "perhaps we should... intervene?" But even the stalwart knight's usual stoicism was cracking, a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth betraying his amusement.
"Oh, let him have his moment," Sumia said, placing a gentle hand on her husband Frederick's arm. "Besides," she added with a giggle, "I think I see where Cynthia gets her flair for the dramatic now."
"Like watching a theater production in the middle of camp," Gaius commented, unwrapping a piece of candy. "Got to admire the kid's commitment to the performance, though."
Olivia, normally shy, found herself hiding her laughter behind her hands as she stood beside her husband. "He certainly has... stage presence," she managed between giggles. "Maybe he should have been a performer instead of a swordsman."
"Bubbles," Gaius called out to Robin, "you're the tactician here. Any strategy for dealing with..." he gestured vaguely at Owain's continuing performance, "...this?"
Sybyrh, standing beside her still-snickering husband Chrom, shook her head, her black hair with its silver and gold highlights catching the evening light. "That's not how any of this works," she said with a warm smile, her orange eyes matching her son Roy's bemused expression.
"But..." Owain deflated slightly before immediately perking up again. "Perhaps a special training regimen? A sacred ritual? A forbidden technique passed down through the ages?"
"Gods, you're impossible," Severa groaned from nearby, though there was a hint of fondness in her exasperation.
"The only thing that's forbidden is how much second-hand embarrassment I'm feeling right now," Brady muttered, still recovering from his ward usage.
"I don't know whether to write this down in my tactical manual under 'morale boosting' or 'cautionary tales,'" Robin mused, earning a playful swat from Cordelia.
Lucina couldn't help but smile as she watched her husband try to let their friend down gently. "Owain, perhaps you could channel that enthusiasm into practicing the skills you already possess?"
"AHA!" Owain brightened, not deterred in the slightest. "You speak wisdom, dear cousin! My sword hand shall continue its destined path while I search for alternative means to channel the power of dragons!" He struck another pose. "Perhaps through interpretive dance!"
"Oh gods," Olivia whispered, both horrified and intrigued at the mention of interpretive dance. "Should I offer to help him with that?"
"Treasure, please don't encourage him," Gaius pleaded, though he was grinning widely. "We can barely handle one performance at a time."
This was the final straw for Chrom, who burst out laughing openly, joined by several other Shepherds. Even Frederick finally gave in, a rare full smile breaking through his serious demeanor as Sumia leaned against him, shaking with laughter.
"I haven't seen Frederick laugh like that since our wedding," Sumia whispered to Cordelia, who nodded in agreement while trying to maintain her composure.
"Should we tell him about the time you tried teaching Inigo to channel magic?" Roy whispered to Odyn with a smirk.
"Gods, no," Odyn whispered back, watching as Owain continued his dramatic proclamations. "He'd never let us hear the end of it."
"At least Inigo's dancing improved after that incident," Robin added quietly, having overheard the exchange. "Though I'm still not sure how we explained those scorch marks to Olivia."
The camp continued to ring with laughter and good-natured teasing, a welcome relief after the intensity of the earlier battle. Even Frederick's usual stoic demeanor had completely dissolved into warm amusement as Owain launched into another grandiose speech about his "destined path to draconic enlightenment."
"Ten gold says he tries to sneak into the library tonight to research dragon lore," Gaius wagered with Robin.
"Twenty says Miriel catches him first," Robin countered with a grin.
"You're both wrong," Cordelia interjected with a knowing smile. "Sumia already promised to lend him some of her dragon fairy tales after dinner."
The evening continued in this way, the Shepherds' camp filled with warmth and laughter, momentarily forgetting the weight of their mission in the simple joy of being together and watching their resident dramatist's enthusiastic performance.
To be continued in Chapter 20: Act 3 Finale extended; Searching for Kjelle