Chapter Text
Summer 648
The one-year anniversary of Commander Greil’s death passed with no special celebration. Queen Elincia had offered to hold a ceremony, even in private, but Ike had humbly refused in order to focus on the rebuilding efforts and avoid political games. The mercenaries had supported the decision and fuelled their grief into shaping a bright and hopeful future.
The second anniversary wasn’t much different, with no time to spare Greil’s grave in Gallia a visit – something Titania promised to do as things settled down in Crimea. Many nobles still mistook Queen Elincia’s youth and grace for incompetence, and the Greil Mercenaries were happy to nip trouble in the bud to stave off the Dark God.
Three years later, things hadn’t quite settled down, but would they ever? The Greil Mercenaries had been told to lie low by Bastian until the time was right, and so they obliged to hopefully put down the rebellion of the callous Duke of Felirae.
Still, the mercenaries took the day off to reminisce about the late commander in their own ways. Since prayers and drinks weren’t Soren’s thing, he chose to reminisce indeed… Mourning had been the last thing on his mind when the Daein Army used to tail them in Gallia’s forests. Regardless, his opinion then and now wasn’t any different.
To this day, Soren was grateful to Greil. The former Rider of Daein must have recognised the Brand on his forehead for what it was at glance, yet he still welcomed this young nobody as an aspiring mage. As such, he gave him all the books he could afford when the mercenaries’ budget was holding on a prayer and the goodwill of longstanding patrons and neighbours. Soren found his place as a thorough staff officer. Years passed and Greil, satisfied, secured him a great traineeship in Melior, fully trusting him to come back with the skills to guide Ike on the path to succeed him. The commander’s full trust was an honour few were accorded…
And when war came knocking at their door, Soren himself bringing the news and putting fate into motion, Greil renewed his trust. Listened to his imperfect plans, considered his brutally pragmatic opinions, tested his mind for the hardships he knew would come. Soren learned what he could and remembered what he couldn’t understand yet. And when the stakes were raised, Greil entrusted him with a great mission in escorting the princess – and with a far greater treasure in his children and the medallion they unknowingly protected…
Three years ago, Soren was indeed too busy thinking about survival to notice. Would he go back to square one, abandoned by the one person he trusted, in this forest of hostile Laguz… Soren’s future looked grim, until Ike laid that fear to rest in Gallia. Indeed, his friend needed him, now more than ever. He had to pick up his role of sole staff officer in earnest, teach Ike the ropes of commanding along with Titania, and then… well, the cogs of war turned and never quite stopped for a year… Soren learned to live with himself, with his Brand, and the fate of the world hung on a stolen medallion in the hands of a madman. There had been truly no time for grief. They were mercenaries. It was a luxury they could only afford in times of peace, if at all…
And three years later, in the fort they called home, Soren’s memories came flooding back in a brand-new light.
___
The reason Greil ended up trusting Soren… It was simple. He simply put the good of the company above personal feelings and interests.
He made plans to survive the winter and keep the children under his care well-fed without relying on the villagers’ charity. He noted down recurring jobs and lined them with routine expenses to cover their bases. After years on the run and makeshift solutions, it was the first time someone sat down to sort through this mess – and came up with an actual business plan. Most importantly, he had the gall to cut down the veterans’ drinking money for the greater good. While Shinon never forgave the rookie, Greil followed his new staff officer’s advice to the letter. The first of many recommendations… He listened, corrected him when necessary, and never looked back. Soren belonged with the mercenaries.
Eventually, Greil found him a training opportunity in the capital. They needed a resident mage, and Soren perfectly fit the bill – plus, it was high time he moved up in the ranks, and in responsibilities. Although he was usually reluctant to part with members, Soren was no cause for concern. The boy was diligent, and most importantly, he didn’t doubt that he would return from Melior.
Because with skills such as his, any young mage could claim triple his current wages, yet Soren remained with this group he found suicidally naïve. For someone’s sake…
How could he mistake the way Ike’s eyes lit up when Soren entered the room? The late afternoons they spent napping and reading together under the shade of a tree, far from everyone else? The whispered dreams they shared in the privacy of their moonlit bunkroom? Ike alone might have a peek into Soren’s heart, but everyone else knew to whom it belonged…
He might not be Ike, but he still swore to give Soren a home to return to, for as long as he could.
How ironic that said boy came back with news of war. How ironic that he was the only one to acknowledge Daein’s threat – and the only one besides Shinon willing to submit to such oppressors. At the mercenaries’ meetings, everyone was entitled to their own opinion, but this one earned him a few raised eyebrows. Greil sympathised.
Because Soren wasn’t as heartless as the circumstances called for him to be. He spoke from a place of despair, a place of ruthless experience from having survived the worst outcomes without a shoulder to lean on, long before he entered their lives. To him, it was worth embracing pessimism and selfishness to keep the company safe, even at an innocent woman’s expense – and Greil hoped he could prove him wrong in what little time he still had before his past caught up to him… Soren wasn’t alone. And if he couldn’t understand that, how could he take his rightful place at Ike’s side?
___
The Greil Mercenaries were his family, too. It took a man like Greil to make Soren believe in such a childish tale.
The tactician looked at Greil’s office, now unofficially his. On his desk, then, sat a stack of letters for charity work they had never turned down in a decade. Written in fresh ink in this year’s accounting book, the price of two new shirts for Boyd and Rolf made him consider another purchase for Ike, before giving it up. For their coffers’ sake, it had been unanimously decided that the commander needed no sleeve. At worst, it could wait until fall. While the ink dried, Soren glanced at the top shelf where he stocked grimoires and noteworthy treaties, and among them, the green cover of the Elwind tome Mist had gifted him in thanks. From the open window came loud sparring sounds, cheering, laughter and warnings. A biscuit in hand, he rested his arms on the windowsill to look at the commotion below: today, Mia and Boyd teamed up to challenge Ike.
“Come on,” she noticed him poking his head out the window, “leave your books alone and watch us take down the boss with our powers combined!” the swordmaster proudly boasted.
“Unlikely,” he dismissed the idea with a single shake of the head. “But go on. I’ll point out the mistakes you two need to correct afterwards,” he said, bitingly helpful and sincere.
“Go easy on Boyd,” Mist taunted the warrior in a casual tone.
“Sorry to disappoint, but Mia and I have a plan!” he winked at her.
“Enough chitchat. Come at me,” Ike granted his opponents the opening move.
As Soren studied their friendly spar, he looked back on his time with the Greil Mercenaries.
Ten years he spent eating, sleeping, travelling, quarrelling, growing with them. They were more than colleagues, even if his loyalty belonged to Ike. They were like any other family.
The Commander never lied, did he?