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This is for the Mary Sue challenge 'fic at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fe_contest. (Posting it here first because I'm worried some canon details are off, although I looked up as much as I could; hopefully someone will catch anything wrong before I post it for real.)
Anyways, this is an FE7 Tactician Sue 'fic with a twist (I hope). Oh, and I think this is the first FE7 'fic I've written with all three lords as somewhat major characters, as well as with the main villain, Nergal.
I'm not sure I'm happy with how this starts out, but it is somewhat fitting with the rest of the story. (Then again, I tend to not be very happy with my writing these days. ;P)
*****
It was late night in the Lycian army encampment, and Kent was on guard duty with Sain... Again.
Not that Kent minded patrolling with Sain; they were comrades, after all. But sometimes, Kent wished that his superiors wouldn't just assume that he'd prefer to be assigned with Sain; being in the company of the same person all the time could be very wearing, even if they were friends.
Still, Kent supposed that there were worse soldiers to be paired up with (although he wasn't the type to name names). And at least Sain knew when Kent didn't feel like talking... Like right now, as they wound their way together through the forest of tents.
All in all, it was a relatively routine patrol around the darkened camp... That is, until they heard a faint clatter from behind them.
Instantly, both soldiers were alert. "Did you hear that?" asked Kent. Sain nodded.
The two turned to survey the area. The only nearby tent was the of the tactician's, which was still lit up inside, even at this late hour.
***
"Excuse me?" Kent called out, outside of the tactician's tent.
When there was no immediate reply, Kent and Sain exchanged glances, and nodded. Then they both opened the flap of the tent, and peered inside.
The tent looked as it always did, with maps of the current terrain pinned to its cloth walls; in the centre, there was a large folding table that acted as a desk, along with a cot for sleeping in one corner, and a large chest for the tactician's maps on the opposite side. The tactician herself was currently kneeling beside the chest, and lowering its lid.
"Is there something wrong, Lady Tactician?" asked Kent.
The tactician dusted off her robes, and gracefully rose to her feet.
"What makes you think something is wrong, Kent?" she asked.
"We thought we heard a strange noise from your tent," said Sain. "As if something was knocked over."
As Kent continued to glance around, he noticed a pile of rolled-up maps scattered on the floor. That was unusual; if there was one thing that the army knew about their taciturn tactician, it was that she was meticulous about taking care of her maps; almost to the point of obsessiveness.
The tactician noticed Kent's gaze, and smiled. "Ah, pardon the clutter. I knocked some of my maps over, just before you came in; that must've been the sound you heard, right?"
Kent blinked. That did made perfect sense...
"You're right, that must've been the sound we heard," he replied. "Please forgive our intrusion, Lady Tactician," Kent added, with a bow.
The tactician chuckled. "Always so formal, Kent. Please, feel free to call me by my given name, Maris." She nodded at Sain, as well. "You too, Sain."
Both knights nodded in assent.
"You both may leave now," she told them, waving a dimissive hand.
The two then bowed, and obediently left the tent.
***
Kent and Sain returned to their patrol of the camp without saying a word, until Kent decided to break the silence.
"You were strangely quiet back there, Sain," he commented. "That's rather odd for you, especially since we were in the presence of a woman."
Sain was looking thoughtful. "Did something about the tactician strike you as... Different?" he asked.
Kent raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"
"I'm not sure. It's just that..." A dreamy smile spread across Sain's face. "She seemed much more... Beautiful, than usual."
"Beautiful?" Kent paused in thought for a moment.
"I... I think you may be right, Sain," he finally admitted, flushing slightly.
Sain cast a curious glance at his friend. Usually, Kent was not one notice women like Sain did, and least of all, admit that they were beautiful.
He then shook his head. Still, it wasn't that odd for another man to recognize a lady's beauty, was it?
"The tactician did seem especially lovely tonight, didn't she?" Sain commented.
"She wants us to call her by her given name, remember?"
"Ah, yes. Of course."
"Maris is a lovely name, isn't it?"
"Yes. That it is."
****
There was something strange going on with the men of the Lycian army.
At first, Lyn thought she was just imagining it. But then, she started to notice little things...
Like how the female soldiers were being ignored by the males. Admittedly, this was a bit of a relief for some of the women (especially with regards to Sain)... But at least some fraternizing between the sexes was to be expected, even if Lyn didn't always approve of it; none at all, just seemed odd to her.
What was even stranger was that even established couples were being ill attended by their male halves; Lord Pent was actually ignoring his beloved wife, and even the normally courteous Eliwood was paying no attention to Ninian, much to the poor girl's dismay.
There were other things, as well: how the men would swarm around the tactician's tent, even if there was no strategy session scheduled; the oddly vacant looks in their eyes, that would only light up in the tactician's presence...
It was disconcerting, and almost unnatural... But most of all, it was disrupting the natural order of the army.
To put it plainly, the current situation was far too strange for Lyn's own comfort; so she took it upon herself to get to the bottom of this mystery... She had to speak to the tactician.
***
The tactician wasn't difficult for Lyn to find; the gathering of male soldiers outside the tactical tent was a solid indication of her actual presence.
After pushing her way through the crowd, Lyn found the tactician in the middle, the clear focus of the men's adoring gazes. Trying not to look too troubled by this, she tapped the tactician on the shoulder.
"Lady Tactician, might I have a word with you... In private?" asked Lyn, emphasizing the last word.
The tactician gave her a sweet smile. "Certainly, Lyn. Why don't we have this conversation inside my tent, then?"
Lyn followed the tactician into the tent, leaving the male admirers gathered outside, looking disappointed.
As soon as the two were alone, the tactician turned to face Lyn. "Now, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?"
Lyn blinked. She knew she wanted to say something to the tactician, right? But for some reason, she couldn't seem to remember what it was... It was if her thoughts kept drifting away, as she stared into the tactician's serene eyes.
What did she want to say, again? Ah, yes...
Lyn smiled brightly. "Is there anything I can do for you, Lady Tactician?" she asked.
After the tactician politely insisted that she wasn't in need of Lyn's aid, and dismissed her, Lyn left the tent with the nagging feeling that she had forgotten something very important...
****
The Lycian army was having a terrible time on the battlefield today.
They were barely gaining ground against the enemy, and the terrain seemed to work against their favour; it was almost as if the morph army they were up against was predicting their every move.
It was a small miracle that no one in their army had been killed yet; still, it was just a matter of time before that precious little bit of luck would run out.
As he watched the battle progress, Hector cursed under his breath. It was as if the weakest soldiers in the army were out of the field today... (Actually, Hector knew this to be a fact; but the tactician had insisted that some of the strongest soldiers needed rest, after being out on the battlefield all the time.)
And while that may have been true... It seemed to Hector that their usually infalliable tactician may have made a miscalculation this time around.
It didn't help that Hector himself was standing on the sidelines today, unable to do anything about what was happening on the battlefield (apart from barking out the occasional, hastily revised order).
In short, Hector had had enough. Even though he might seem gruff and uncouth to his peers, he didn't believe in "acceptable losses", either... He turned away from the battlefield, and stomped off towards the tactician's field tent.
***
"Tactician, we need to talk," said Hector irritably, as he entered the tent.
The tactician looked up, from a map she was currently examining. "What is it, Lord Hector?" she inquired.
Hector stalked over to her side, and crossed his arms in front of him.
"Now, I know your strategic skills are normally impeccable, Lady Tactician," he began, trying to keep his temper in check. "But today, I must question some of your decisions! People might die out on the battlefield today because of you, and..."
Hector trailed off, as he saw tears welling up in the tactician's eyes.
"Are you... Crying?" he asked.
The tactician was indeed crying, much to Hector's dismay. Tears were trailing down her fair face, making her appear even more lovely than usual. (This was a worrisome thought for Hector; in his experience, crying usually made one less attractive, what with the puffy eyes and runny nose.)
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," sobbed the tactician. "I try my hardest, I really do! But I guess I'm just not at my best today... Oh, those poor soldiers, suffering at my expense..."
All of a sudden, Hector felt guilty for hurting her feelings. Despite himself, he reached out, and patted her on the shoulder.
"Stop. Please stop. I'm sure it'll all work out, in the end..."
The tactician wiped her tears. "That is so kind of you, Lord Hector... Thank you."
"Ah... It's no problem," muttered Hector, feeling embarassed.
After that, Hector left the tactician alone in her tent, without even remembering that his questions about the battle were left unanswered...
****
In the end, the Lycian army won the fight, but just barely... Nearly half of the army's troops needed treatment by the healers, and a quarter had to recuperate in their own tents.
"We used up a good deal of supplies during that battle," Lyn reported to Hector, later on.
She rubbed her eyes wearily. "Lots of weapons were broken, and magical items were used up; we'll have to restock in the next town. Oh, and we'll need more healing supplies as well, obviously."
"I realize that," said Hector, with a sigh. "What I don't understand is, why aren't we discussing such matters inside the tactician's tent?"
Both lords were currently leaning on boxes inside one of Merlinus's storage tents, next door.
Lyn shifted uneasily. "Oh, that. It's just that... The tactician wanted to have a word with Lord Eliwood in her tent... Alone."
The gazes of the two lords met briefly, then looked away.
"Ah. I see," said Hector, trying not to flush.
Though neither them could admit it, both of them were uncomfortable with the idea of Eliwood being alone with the tactician, but weren't exactly sure of the reason why...
***
It was odd, thought Eliwood, as he stood rather dazed before the tactician, inside her tent.
There was only one thing in his mind right now... And it wasn't his father, nor his mother, nor his friends, companions, or Ninian... Not even the war with Nergal mattered at this very moment.
All that was really important to him right now, was this lovely woman standing in front of him, who just happened to be the tactician of this army.
Yet despite this overwhelming feeling of adoration, there was something bothering Eliwood in the back of his mind...
In the dim light of the tent, the tactician's long brown hair looked almost black. And her eyes... What colour were her eyes again?
It was strange that he couldn't recall her eye colour; he was looking right into her eyes, wasn't he? And yet... Something seemed out of place...
It was then that Eliwood realized what was bothering him.
Brown... The tactician has brown eyes, Eliwood recalled.
And the woman standing before him, with that bewitching smile, clearly had golden eyes.
***
Hector and Lyn were still having their discussion inside the storage tent, when they were interrupted by a piercing shriek from outside.
"That wasn't from...?" asked Lyn, as her voice trailed off. Hector nodded grimly.
They both rushed out and ran towards the nearby tactician's tent, while the rest of the camp converged on the scene. However, Lyn and Hector were the first to arrive, and burst into the tent, with weapons drawn.
"Eliwood! Maris! Are you two all right?" asked Lyn.
Eliwood was standing in the middle of the tent, with his back turned towards them. In one hand, he held his sword, its blade clearly stained with blood. And at his feet, lay the body of...
Hector and Lyn paused in stunned silence, as they took in the surreal scene. Finally, Hector managed to speak.
"Uh, Eliwood...? Did you just kill the tactician?"
It was only then that Eliwood turned to face the other lords; there was a weary expression on his face.
"That wasn't the tactician," said Eliwood quietly. "Take a closer look at her."
The other two lords knelt beside the body, which was clearly clad in the tactician's robes.
"Black hair, golden eyes..." mused Lyn. Her eyes widened. "She was a morph?"
Eliwood nodded. "I believe so."
Hector looked taken aback. "Wait, Eliwood! Are you saying our tactician has always been a morph?" he asked.
Eliwood shook his head. "I don't think so, Hector. I just believe our actual tactician was replaced by this morph one, instead."
"If that's the case," said Lyn slowly, "then where is the real tactician?"
****
The real tactician opened her eyes, to find the worried gazes of all three lords upon her.
"My Lords," she began to say, and looked around. She then realized that she was lying down in one of the cots inside the healers' tent.
"Are you all right?" asked Lyn.
"I think so," replied the tactician. She sat up in her cot, a bit unsteadily.
"Do you remember what happened to you?" asked Hector.
The tactician shook her head. "Not much, I'm afraid..." She paused in thought.
"The last thing I clearly remember is working at my desk, late one night..." she said, finally. "Then I thought I heard something behind me; I turned around, then blacked out. After that, my memories are all jumbled... Mostly darkness, but sometimes, a woman's face looking at me..."
"That must've been the morph posing as you," explained Eliwood.
As the tactician stared at him, bewildered, he added, "We believe that Nergal created a look-alike morph to replace you. After we disposed of her, we found the real you hidden in your tent, locked inside your own map chest."
"We were relieved to find that you weren't dead," added Lyn. "But you were very weak... That, and the lack of air from being inside the chest meant you needed immediate attention from the healers; you've been unconscious for over a day now."
The tactician's brow wrinkled. "But, if what you say is true... Then why did my replacement keep me alive?" she asked. "Surely she could've just killed me and disposed of the body."
"Maybe she needed you alive, to keep up the disguise, somehow?" said Lyn. "Eliwood told us the only reason he realized the imposter wasn't you, was because her hair and eyes began to look like that of a morph's."
"Not that the impostor did a good job of impersonating you, Lady Tactician," said Hector, with a snort. "She was nothing like you."
The tactician looked surprised. "Really? If that was the case, then how did she fool anyone into thinking she was me?"
The lords cast somewhat guilty glances at each other.
Hector coughed. "What I meant to say, is that she was a convincing impostor... Just a terrible tactician."
"Yes, that's it," said Eliwood, sounding relieved.
"Nobody could replace the real thing," said Lyn loyally.
The tactician looked touched by their words. "Thank you, all."
"Now get some rest," said Eliwood, patting the tactician gently on the hand. "The rest of the army needed time to recuperate, as well as yourself; but now that everyone is mostly recovered, we'll be moving out soon."
The tactician nodded.
"Sleep well, Lady Tactician," said Lyn kindly, as she and the other lords left the tent.
"Could you please call me--" The tactician began to say her real name, but then sighed; she was used to being ignored, unless she was giving orders on a battlefield.
Still, it was nice to be noticed every once in a while, thought the tactician, with a smile.
****
Nergal stood silently, staring out of the window of his fortress. He had just received word that the morph spy that he had planted within the Lycian army had been discovered, and killed.
It had seemed like an ingenius plan at the time; subvert the army from within, just as he had done with Sonia and the Black Fang. However, it would've been difficult to insert one of his agents into the enemy army without rousing suspicion, much less get close enough to influence the lords.
Then Nergal remembered the Lycian army's tactician; a rather colourless creature, yet surprisingly skilled in strategy. And she also had access to the leaders of the army, but yet was not as well-guarded as they.
So Nergal began to create a morph that was irresistable to anyone who approached her. He made her beautiful, as all his morphs were (if only because neither he nor his subordinates could remember what the tactician looked like). Then he gave his new creation an order to replace the tactician, then drain some of her quintessence, in order to take on her form.
It was a flawless plan... Yet still it failed. By all accounts, his morph creation was about to seduce Lord Eliwood, but somehow, the meddlesome lordling managed to see through her disguise, and slew her on the spot.
Perhaps it was a mistake to use such weak quintessence to disguise his morph, mused Nergal. Clearly, the girl tactician had barely enough life force to sustain his morph's clever disguise.
Perhaps he should've used stronger quintessence... Or better yet, used some of the more powerful quintessence he had already drained to create morphs that resembled their owners... Quite an interesting thought, to be sure.
Still, it irritated Nergal to think that one of his perfect creations could be so easily rejected... He had created a morph far superior to the original, yet those foolish humans still preferred the flawed version.
He supposed he could've made a morph that more closely resembled the original... Then perhaps its cover wouldn't have been blown so quickly. But why create such an imperfect creature, when he could make it so much better?
Still... Perhaps, there is such a thing as too perfect a being, thought Nergal to himself.
END
*****
I hope this story was appropriate for the challenge; the first thing I thought of was Mary Sue = perfect being = morph. (Hopefully the title wasn't too much of a giveaway...)
I've always been intrigued with the idea of a Sue with the power to influence others, but only within a certain radius; this was my attempt to make her seem more creepy, rather than attractive. ;)
fe_contest. (Posting it here first because I'm worried some canon details are off, although I looked up as much as I could; hopefully someone will catch anything wrong before I post it for real.)Anyways, this is an FE7 Tactician Sue 'fic with a twist (I hope). Oh, and I think this is the first FE7 'fic I've written with all three lords as somewhat major characters, as well as with the main villain, Nergal.
I'm not sure I'm happy with how this starts out, but it is somewhat fitting with the rest of the story. (Then again, I tend to not be very happy with my writing these days. ;P)
*****
It was late night in the Lycian army encampment, and Kent was on guard duty with Sain... Again.
Not that Kent minded patrolling with Sain; they were comrades, after all. But sometimes, Kent wished that his superiors wouldn't just assume that he'd prefer to be assigned with Sain; being in the company of the same person all the time could be very wearing, even if they were friends.
Still, Kent supposed that there were worse soldiers to be paired up with (although he wasn't the type to name names). And at least Sain knew when Kent didn't feel like talking... Like right now, as they wound their way together through the forest of tents.
All in all, it was a relatively routine patrol around the darkened camp... That is, until they heard a faint clatter from behind them.
Instantly, both soldiers were alert. "Did you hear that?" asked Kent. Sain nodded.
The two turned to survey the area. The only nearby tent was the of the tactician's, which was still lit up inside, even at this late hour.
***
"Excuse me?" Kent called out, outside of the tactician's tent.
When there was no immediate reply, Kent and Sain exchanged glances, and nodded. Then they both opened the flap of the tent, and peered inside.
The tent looked as it always did, with maps of the current terrain pinned to its cloth walls; in the centre, there was a large folding table that acted as a desk, along with a cot for sleeping in one corner, and a large chest for the tactician's maps on the opposite side. The tactician herself was currently kneeling beside the chest, and lowering its lid.
"Is there something wrong, Lady Tactician?" asked Kent.
The tactician dusted off her robes, and gracefully rose to her feet.
"What makes you think something is wrong, Kent?" she asked.
"We thought we heard a strange noise from your tent," said Sain. "As if something was knocked over."
As Kent continued to glance around, he noticed a pile of rolled-up maps scattered on the floor. That was unusual; if there was one thing that the army knew about their taciturn tactician, it was that she was meticulous about taking care of her maps; almost to the point of obsessiveness.
The tactician noticed Kent's gaze, and smiled. "Ah, pardon the clutter. I knocked some of my maps over, just before you came in; that must've been the sound you heard, right?"
Kent blinked. That did made perfect sense...
"You're right, that must've been the sound we heard," he replied. "Please forgive our intrusion, Lady Tactician," Kent added, with a bow.
The tactician chuckled. "Always so formal, Kent. Please, feel free to call me by my given name, Maris." She nodded at Sain, as well. "You too, Sain."
Both knights nodded in assent.
"You both may leave now," she told them, waving a dimissive hand.
The two then bowed, and obediently left the tent.
***
Kent and Sain returned to their patrol of the camp without saying a word, until Kent decided to break the silence.
"You were strangely quiet back there, Sain," he commented. "That's rather odd for you, especially since we were in the presence of a woman."
Sain was looking thoughtful. "Did something about the tactician strike you as... Different?" he asked.
Kent raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"
"I'm not sure. It's just that..." A dreamy smile spread across Sain's face. "She seemed much more... Beautiful, than usual."
"Beautiful?" Kent paused in thought for a moment.
"I... I think you may be right, Sain," he finally admitted, flushing slightly.
Sain cast a curious glance at his friend. Usually, Kent was not one notice women like Sain did, and least of all, admit that they were beautiful.
He then shook his head. Still, it wasn't that odd for another man to recognize a lady's beauty, was it?
"The tactician did seem especially lovely tonight, didn't she?" Sain commented.
"She wants us to call her by her given name, remember?"
"Ah, yes. Of course."
"Maris is a lovely name, isn't it?"
"Yes. That it is."
****
There was something strange going on with the men of the Lycian army.
At first, Lyn thought she was just imagining it. But then, she started to notice little things...
Like how the female soldiers were being ignored by the males. Admittedly, this was a bit of a relief for some of the women (especially with regards to Sain)... But at least some fraternizing between the sexes was to be expected, even if Lyn didn't always approve of it; none at all, just seemed odd to her.
What was even stranger was that even established couples were being ill attended by their male halves; Lord Pent was actually ignoring his beloved wife, and even the normally courteous Eliwood was paying no attention to Ninian, much to the poor girl's dismay.
There were other things, as well: how the men would swarm around the tactician's tent, even if there was no strategy session scheduled; the oddly vacant looks in their eyes, that would only light up in the tactician's presence...
It was disconcerting, and almost unnatural... But most of all, it was disrupting the natural order of the army.
To put it plainly, the current situation was far too strange for Lyn's own comfort; so she took it upon herself to get to the bottom of this mystery... She had to speak to the tactician.
***
The tactician wasn't difficult for Lyn to find; the gathering of male soldiers outside the tactical tent was a solid indication of her actual presence.
After pushing her way through the crowd, Lyn found the tactician in the middle, the clear focus of the men's adoring gazes. Trying not to look too troubled by this, she tapped the tactician on the shoulder.
"Lady Tactician, might I have a word with you... In private?" asked Lyn, emphasizing the last word.
The tactician gave her a sweet smile. "Certainly, Lyn. Why don't we have this conversation inside my tent, then?"
Lyn followed the tactician into the tent, leaving the male admirers gathered outside, looking disappointed.
As soon as the two were alone, the tactician turned to face Lyn. "Now, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?"
Lyn blinked. She knew she wanted to say something to the tactician, right? But for some reason, she couldn't seem to remember what it was... It was if her thoughts kept drifting away, as she stared into the tactician's serene eyes.
What did she want to say, again? Ah, yes...
Lyn smiled brightly. "Is there anything I can do for you, Lady Tactician?" she asked.
After the tactician politely insisted that she wasn't in need of Lyn's aid, and dismissed her, Lyn left the tent with the nagging feeling that she had forgotten something very important...
****
The Lycian army was having a terrible time on the battlefield today.
They were barely gaining ground against the enemy, and the terrain seemed to work against their favour; it was almost as if the morph army they were up against was predicting their every move.
It was a small miracle that no one in their army had been killed yet; still, it was just a matter of time before that precious little bit of luck would run out.
As he watched the battle progress, Hector cursed under his breath. It was as if the weakest soldiers in the army were out of the field today... (Actually, Hector knew this to be a fact; but the tactician had insisted that some of the strongest soldiers needed rest, after being out on the battlefield all the time.)
And while that may have been true... It seemed to Hector that their usually infalliable tactician may have made a miscalculation this time around.
It didn't help that Hector himself was standing on the sidelines today, unable to do anything about what was happening on the battlefield (apart from barking out the occasional, hastily revised order).
In short, Hector had had enough. Even though he might seem gruff and uncouth to his peers, he didn't believe in "acceptable losses", either... He turned away from the battlefield, and stomped off towards the tactician's field tent.
***
"Tactician, we need to talk," said Hector irritably, as he entered the tent.
The tactician looked up, from a map she was currently examining. "What is it, Lord Hector?" she inquired.
Hector stalked over to her side, and crossed his arms in front of him.
"Now, I know your strategic skills are normally impeccable, Lady Tactician," he began, trying to keep his temper in check. "But today, I must question some of your decisions! People might die out on the battlefield today because of you, and..."
Hector trailed off, as he saw tears welling up in the tactician's eyes.
"Are you... Crying?" he asked.
The tactician was indeed crying, much to Hector's dismay. Tears were trailing down her fair face, making her appear even more lovely than usual. (This was a worrisome thought for Hector; in his experience, crying usually made one less attractive, what with the puffy eyes and runny nose.)
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," sobbed the tactician. "I try my hardest, I really do! But I guess I'm just not at my best today... Oh, those poor soldiers, suffering at my expense..."
All of a sudden, Hector felt guilty for hurting her feelings. Despite himself, he reached out, and patted her on the shoulder.
"Stop. Please stop. I'm sure it'll all work out, in the end..."
The tactician wiped her tears. "That is so kind of you, Lord Hector... Thank you."
"Ah... It's no problem," muttered Hector, feeling embarassed.
After that, Hector left the tactician alone in her tent, without even remembering that his questions about the battle were left unanswered...
****
In the end, the Lycian army won the fight, but just barely... Nearly half of the army's troops needed treatment by the healers, and a quarter had to recuperate in their own tents.
"We used up a good deal of supplies during that battle," Lyn reported to Hector, later on.
She rubbed her eyes wearily. "Lots of weapons were broken, and magical items were used up; we'll have to restock in the next town. Oh, and we'll need more healing supplies as well, obviously."
"I realize that," said Hector, with a sigh. "What I don't understand is, why aren't we discussing such matters inside the tactician's tent?"
Both lords were currently leaning on boxes inside one of Merlinus's storage tents, next door.
Lyn shifted uneasily. "Oh, that. It's just that... The tactician wanted to have a word with Lord Eliwood in her tent... Alone."
The gazes of the two lords met briefly, then looked away.
"Ah. I see," said Hector, trying not to flush.
Though neither them could admit it, both of them were uncomfortable with the idea of Eliwood being alone with the tactician, but weren't exactly sure of the reason why...
***
It was odd, thought Eliwood, as he stood rather dazed before the tactician, inside her tent.
There was only one thing in his mind right now... And it wasn't his father, nor his mother, nor his friends, companions, or Ninian... Not even the war with Nergal mattered at this very moment.
All that was really important to him right now, was this lovely woman standing in front of him, who just happened to be the tactician of this army.
Yet despite this overwhelming feeling of adoration, there was something bothering Eliwood in the back of his mind...
In the dim light of the tent, the tactician's long brown hair looked almost black. And her eyes... What colour were her eyes again?
It was strange that he couldn't recall her eye colour; he was looking right into her eyes, wasn't he? And yet... Something seemed out of place...
It was then that Eliwood realized what was bothering him.
Brown... The tactician has brown eyes, Eliwood recalled.
And the woman standing before him, with that bewitching smile, clearly had golden eyes.
***
Hector and Lyn were still having their discussion inside the storage tent, when they were interrupted by a piercing shriek from outside.
"That wasn't from...?" asked Lyn, as her voice trailed off. Hector nodded grimly.
They both rushed out and ran towards the nearby tactician's tent, while the rest of the camp converged on the scene. However, Lyn and Hector were the first to arrive, and burst into the tent, with weapons drawn.
"Eliwood! Maris! Are you two all right?" asked Lyn.
Eliwood was standing in the middle of the tent, with his back turned towards them. In one hand, he held his sword, its blade clearly stained with blood. And at his feet, lay the body of...
Hector and Lyn paused in stunned silence, as they took in the surreal scene. Finally, Hector managed to speak.
"Uh, Eliwood...? Did you just kill the tactician?"
It was only then that Eliwood turned to face the other lords; there was a weary expression on his face.
"That wasn't the tactician," said Eliwood quietly. "Take a closer look at her."
The other two lords knelt beside the body, which was clearly clad in the tactician's robes.
"Black hair, golden eyes..." mused Lyn. Her eyes widened. "She was a morph?"
Eliwood nodded. "I believe so."
Hector looked taken aback. "Wait, Eliwood! Are you saying our tactician has always been a morph?" he asked.
Eliwood shook his head. "I don't think so, Hector. I just believe our actual tactician was replaced by this morph one, instead."
"If that's the case," said Lyn slowly, "then where is the real tactician?"
****
The real tactician opened her eyes, to find the worried gazes of all three lords upon her.
"My Lords," she began to say, and looked around. She then realized that she was lying down in one of the cots inside the healers' tent.
"Are you all right?" asked Lyn.
"I think so," replied the tactician. She sat up in her cot, a bit unsteadily.
"Do you remember what happened to you?" asked Hector.
The tactician shook her head. "Not much, I'm afraid..." She paused in thought.
"The last thing I clearly remember is working at my desk, late one night..." she said, finally. "Then I thought I heard something behind me; I turned around, then blacked out. After that, my memories are all jumbled... Mostly darkness, but sometimes, a woman's face looking at me..."
"That must've been the morph posing as you," explained Eliwood.
As the tactician stared at him, bewildered, he added, "We believe that Nergal created a look-alike morph to replace you. After we disposed of her, we found the real you hidden in your tent, locked inside your own map chest."
"We were relieved to find that you weren't dead," added Lyn. "But you were very weak... That, and the lack of air from being inside the chest meant you needed immediate attention from the healers; you've been unconscious for over a day now."
The tactician's brow wrinkled. "But, if what you say is true... Then why did my replacement keep me alive?" she asked. "Surely she could've just killed me and disposed of the body."
"Maybe she needed you alive, to keep up the disguise, somehow?" said Lyn. "Eliwood told us the only reason he realized the imposter wasn't you, was because her hair and eyes began to look like that of a morph's."
"Not that the impostor did a good job of impersonating you, Lady Tactician," said Hector, with a snort. "She was nothing like you."
The tactician looked surprised. "Really? If that was the case, then how did she fool anyone into thinking she was me?"
The lords cast somewhat guilty glances at each other.
Hector coughed. "What I meant to say, is that she was a convincing impostor... Just a terrible tactician."
"Yes, that's it," said Eliwood, sounding relieved.
"Nobody could replace the real thing," said Lyn loyally.
The tactician looked touched by their words. "Thank you, all."
"Now get some rest," said Eliwood, patting the tactician gently on the hand. "The rest of the army needed time to recuperate, as well as yourself; but now that everyone is mostly recovered, we'll be moving out soon."
The tactician nodded.
"Sleep well, Lady Tactician," said Lyn kindly, as she and the other lords left the tent.
"Could you please call me--" The tactician began to say her real name, but then sighed; she was used to being ignored, unless she was giving orders on a battlefield.
Still, it was nice to be noticed every once in a while, thought the tactician, with a smile.
****
Nergal stood silently, staring out of the window of his fortress. He had just received word that the morph spy that he had planted within the Lycian army had been discovered, and killed.
It had seemed like an ingenius plan at the time; subvert the army from within, just as he had done with Sonia and the Black Fang. However, it would've been difficult to insert one of his agents into the enemy army without rousing suspicion, much less get close enough to influence the lords.
Then Nergal remembered the Lycian army's tactician; a rather colourless creature, yet surprisingly skilled in strategy. And she also had access to the leaders of the army, but yet was not as well-guarded as they.
So Nergal began to create a morph that was irresistable to anyone who approached her. He made her beautiful, as all his morphs were (if only because neither he nor his subordinates could remember what the tactician looked like). Then he gave his new creation an order to replace the tactician, then drain some of her quintessence, in order to take on her form.
It was a flawless plan... Yet still it failed. By all accounts, his morph creation was about to seduce Lord Eliwood, but somehow, the meddlesome lordling managed to see through her disguise, and slew her on the spot.
Perhaps it was a mistake to use such weak quintessence to disguise his morph, mused Nergal. Clearly, the girl tactician had barely enough life force to sustain his morph's clever disguise.
Perhaps he should've used stronger quintessence... Or better yet, used some of the more powerful quintessence he had already drained to create morphs that resembled their owners... Quite an interesting thought, to be sure.
Still, it irritated Nergal to think that one of his perfect creations could be so easily rejected... He had created a morph far superior to the original, yet those foolish humans still preferred the flawed version.
He supposed he could've made a morph that more closely resembled the original... Then perhaps its cover wouldn't have been blown so quickly. But why create such an imperfect creature, when he could make it so much better?
Still... Perhaps, there is such a thing as too perfect a being, thought Nergal to himself.
END
*****
I hope this story was appropriate for the challenge; the first thing I thought of was Mary Sue = perfect being = morph. (Hopefully the title wasn't too much of a giveaway...)
I've always been intrigued with the idea of a Sue with the power to influence others, but only within a certain radius; this was my attempt to make her seem more creepy, rather than attractive. ;)
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