[This is war. Chaotic and messy and steeped in blood, but without it... then what? Were they to kneel and submit to conquer? Unlikely. Impossible. He hadn't given the Empire hell for five long, grueling years to give up now.
The memory-Sylvain carries on without so much as a pause as the enemy soldiers are engulfed in magefire, dying quickly. He knows it's surely an awful way to go, but... spells burn hotter than conventional flame, kill quicker, and one can't spare a thought for the enemy, when it's kill or be killed.
The Sylvain of now doesn't give the scene a second thought either. He's seen it, after all. He remembers it. But it's war. He's seen the same scene on battlefield after battlefield already, and the sentiment held in the location isn't enough to make him pause now. Especially not with a terrified Lance standing in front of him.]
Hey, it's... alright. I'm here.
[But he also knows what's coming. He knows it's something Lance shouldn't see, but... how can he stop him, when their own advance is quick and ruthless, headed by a Dimitri that Lance surely wouldn't recognize - older, larger, feral, tearing through enemy troops with lance and by hand, crushing heads and tearing out throats. Gruesome, but efficient in his singular goal of reaching Edelgard as quickly as possible, little more than a bright red spot on the other side of the field, for now.]
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The memory-Sylvain carries on without so much as a pause as the enemy soldiers are engulfed in magefire, dying quickly. He knows it's surely an awful way to go, but... spells burn hotter than conventional flame, kill quicker, and one can't spare a thought for the enemy, when it's kill or be killed.
The Sylvain of now doesn't give the scene a second thought either. He's seen it, after all. He remembers it. But it's war. He's seen the same scene on battlefield after battlefield already, and the sentiment held in the location isn't enough to make him pause now. Especially not with a terrified Lance standing in front of him.]
Hey, it's... alright. I'm here.
[But he also knows what's coming. He knows it's something Lance shouldn't see, but... how can he stop him, when their own advance is quick and ruthless, headed by a Dimitri that Lance surely wouldn't recognize - older, larger, feral, tearing through enemy troops with lance and by hand, crushing heads and tearing out throats. Gruesome, but efficient in his singular goal of reaching Edelgard as quickly as possible, little more than a bright red spot on the other side of the field, for now.]