act18mini

All shall return to fire.

While you, my unruly shadow—you had every opportunity to avoid involving yourself in this.

But since you decided to jump into the flames together,

Come.

Join this magnificent blaze where even shadows lose themselves.

So we're basically right outside Londinium?

That's what I heard.

I've never walked so much my entire life.

You figure you've walked more than Moran and the others?

Them? They followed the Leader all the way from the Scáthanna Fields, how can I even compare?

Well, who's counting? Besides, we're here. What now? We fight?

I suppose. We've been through more than our fair share of scuffles on our way here anyway—stray Sarkaz, wasteland bandits, soldiers hired by nobles...

Sorry, present company excluded. I meant the ones who specifically target Tarans, you know the type.

I know. I just wanted to say...

No, it's nothing.

Come on, out with it. Is your leg better now? Can you do a little jig?

The slightly sultry breeze of early autumn blows the stench of swamp and grass into the air.

The soldier separated from his squad looks up towards Londinium. His ears are not being deafened by sporadic cannonfire, nor is the Sarkaz witchcraft he heard so much about anywhere to be seen.

Fine, I'll try. Just don't step on my leg.

They're dancing in the camp? I'll tell them to stop. We can't risk the noise this close to the battlefield.

No, it's fine. We'll be safe as long as we're inside the camp.

But we have to press forward.

...No.

The road ahead passes through a battlefield, and I should go alone.

Reed! Moran! Come dance with us!

...So you're all here.

Battlefield's just up ahead. No clue how we're gonna end up...

But everyone's in pretty good shape for now, so let's dance while we still can!

Maybe if we move enough, it'll shake off the fear—

That's lovely, but... I'd rather everyone stay here and go no further.

Huh? We're not going to battle?

It's too dangerous for you.

So you're going on ahead, all by your lonesome?

I'm sorry.

How long will you be gone?

I don't know. But I'll definitely return.

Reed, everyone who followed you here knows that fighting is inevitable.

We all know we're not qualified to join the fray. But we want to help you, even if all we can do is to block a few bolts.

I'm not qualified either.

...Reed?

Be it Wellington, the other Dukes, or the Sarkaz, they are the ones tipping the scales of this war. But us...

No matter which side we choose, we'll make less of a difference on the battlefield than a speck of dust. That goes for both you <i>and</i> me.

Then why...?

There is something I must do.

But don't mistake me. What I intend is no nobler than facing off with the Victorians for our people, swords drawn. I just... have to face it...

To face her.

'The Leader'?

The Leader.

Almost every Taran knows of Dublinn and 'The Leader'.

Even those not in the know will soon learn of their existence from the increased Victorian aggression after Wellington's army marched off towards Londinium.

Of course, they will also realize that the Leader of Dublinn standing before them would seem out of place with the fabled 'spectre force', or on Wellington's high-speed battleship.

But she saved them and asked nothing of them, so to them she is without a doubt The Leader.

People come and go. Those of us still here have already made up our minds, so don't you worry on our behalf.

Don't mind my wounds. I still have a chance against the restless dead.

You saved my life. Even if I die here, it'll be a worthy death.

Thank you, everyone. But we didn't come all this way to become martyrs.

The road ahead of us doesn't lead to yet more fighting. On the contrary, when I return, we'll... return to a Tara without war. Together.

So you're coming back for sure, Reed?

I am.

Then we'll wait for you.

Thank you.

After the battle at Silverrock Bluffs, the Royal Court forces retreated behind Londinium's walls, while Victoria's Dukes kept their forces stationed around the city, in no hurry to assault it.

Wellington's army, with their fresh new flag, did not participate in the siege, and stationed themselves just outside the warzone like an indifferent observer, coolly watching the deadlock outside the city.

But a stalemate does not necessarily mean peace. Scouting efforts and countermeasures, raids and ambushes, Sarkaz witchcraft and brief cannon barrages...

Accompanying them are the curses and groans of the immobilized wounded, unable to do anything but wait in vain for death to come. Everything comes together in a tapestry of stifling tranquility.

The Draco takes advantage of the current 'peace' and sets off to put an end to it.

How's the situation outside the city?

A group of Victorians tried to snatch their wounded off the battlefield a few hours ago, but we bled them dry.

But... they'll beat us to death if they spot any of us alone, and their firepower's terrifying to boot.

Captain, is it true? What that so-called Babel on the radio said the other day—

Shut up if you want to live!

What? A Vouivre walking around outside the city? Even helping to treat the wounded? Is she mocking us? Does she think we're already as good as dead?

I'll give you a minute. Consider your lives forfeit if she's still breathing.

Wait, what? You're telling me she's even saving the <i>Sarkaz</i>?

Bloody devils... They've been holed up in there for days and still pack a punch...

Personally, I'd rather the siege continue.

Old Wellington's not in the siege. Changed flags and retreated to his own camp. It's obvious he no longer wants to fight the Sarkaz.

Her Grace the Duke of Caster, in her magnanimity, has ordered us to not pursue the matter any further, but where are we going to find more unlucky blokes to hold off the Sarkaz troops?

I mean, I'm certainly not volunteering for the duty.

Are there even any Victorians left in the city, what with so many wounded soldiers out here on the field?

Reporting in. We have... returned.

What?! How?! Everyone we sent to rescue you never came back!

A Vouivre... a Caster, she saved us.

A Vouivre? Which Duke does she serve? Gododdin? Fife?

No idea. She didn't even seem to care which side we were on.

Sod it, just who was she? You're saying she was going, what, towards the city?

Seemed like... to the Gastrell.

I'm sorry, this is all I can do for you.

It's okay. I'm just relieved... my chest doesn't hurt anymore, at least.

Thank you so much, Leader. I've seen you before, at Oak Grove... You said then, 'The flames have already been kindled.'

So now I'll become one of the restless dead, and continue fighting for Tara even after I die, right?

Is that what you want?

Then my answer is this: You won't.

What...?

The flames will indeed swallow up many lives, but never should they intentionally use life as tinder. That isn't how flame is meant to be used.

Do you know the legend of the watchmen? Those who send returning Taran warriors to sleep in flame, so they may finally know rest.

Your fight is over, soldier. I hope you find rest just as they did.

Leader, I can't...

This is an order.

...As you command.