Let’s have some fanfiction: ‘The Last Stand of Viktor the Lion-hearted’ (Suikoden 2)

August 16, 2014 at 10:49 am (Fanfiction) (, , )

It’s Suikoden Day once again, which means plenty by way of being a fan. And by being a fan, I mean writing fanfiction. This one’s about Viktor facing maybe (sort of? Most likely? Certainly?) doom.


The Last Stand of Viktor the Lion-hearted


There are certain situations one never wants to be in. Viktor knew – he’d been in quite a few of them. Running through a fort while it burned to the ground. Getting knocked unconscious after a healthy helping of ‘Robber’s Tea’. Even, as unlikely as it seemed, fighting hordes of zombies summoned up from the ground by an obnoxious vampire.

This, though. This, as Hai Yo liked to say, took the big, fat, buttery biscuit. Viktor tried to focus on the positive. When one was looking up from rock bottom, there was plenty to be happy about. For instance, there was the beef and onion stew the company’s cook had managed to produce, now pleasantly bubbling in Viktor’s belly (‘We’re all going to die anyway,’ the cook had said with a wry smile. ‘Might as well go with a full stomach’).

There was also the look on Freed’s face, as he paced up and down, hands clutched behind his back. There was something inherently hilarious about Freed. The man was so crisp, so formal, he had managed to keep his uniform clean even after five straight days of fighting. Even now, there was not a wrinkle on his pants, as he walked up and down the ranks, with a look on his face that suggested he had not had a successful bowel movement in quite some time. Viktor gave him a wave as he went past. In reply, Freed made a motion that was either a bow, or a nervous twitch. Viktor imagined he’d keep that shirt clean well unto death. Viktor had to smile at the thought.

Above, there were great white clouds making the summer day even brighter. A light wind had picked up. It was a beautiful day, Viktor thought, and if he and his entire company should be slaughtered by the enemy, at least it was on a day like this.

“Any news from Sasuke?” Freed asked, coming around again.

Viktor opened his mouth to respond, at which Freed made a face and backed away. “Eew.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “What kind of soldier says ‘eew’?”

“What is that smell?”

“Beef and onion,” Viktor grinned. “Plenty of onion. And no, there has been no news.”

They both turned towards the open field – nothing but yellowing grass bending in waves under the breeze.

“Don’t worry about it,” Viktor said, giving the man a pat on the shoulder. He saw, with a hint of satisfaction, that the dust from his unwashed palm had left a mark on Freed’s uniform. And he didn’t notice at all.

“How could I not worry?” Freed asked, sharply. Viktor gave him a stern look – there were plenty of the boys in earshot – boys re-wrapping bandages, sharpening swords, taking the last cold dregs of stew – small, slow motions. The last thing they needed was this kind of panic coming from their leaders. Freed noticed, and lowered his voice.

“How could I not worry?” he hissed.


Freed gave him an accusing glare. “That’s what you said before.”


‘We’ve gone three straight days without sleep, fending off the 4th Royal Highland Army. Followed by the 3rd,’ Freed had said, a couple of days back, to a relatively cleaner, more energetic Viktor.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Viktor had said.

Freed had later approached a slightly more battered Viktor, on a night which had seen soldiers falling right asleep on the battlefield in exhaustion. ‘It’s just us and Flik’s boys,’ he had said. ‘Only one of us can make a clean retreat back towards Radat. What do we do?’

‘Coin toss,’ Viktor had said.

‘Coin toss?’

‘Already did. Flik called it. They’re retreating, and we’re covering them. Don’t worry about it.’

And finally, just this morning, Freed had said, ‘The enemy’s been sighted, not two miles from here. We’re in as bad a state as we can possibly be, and there’s no way Flik can come back to help us if we needed him.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Viktor had said.

‘As of last report, the nearest company that can help us – Lord Riou’s, was met by opposition further North. We cannot expect aid from him.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Viktor had said.

‘Viktor,’ Freed had said, cracking through the façade of calm he had managed thus far. ‘To the left we have forests. To the right, is a river. Behind us are the tracks of the company we’re meant to be covering. Up ahead is a hill. And behind that hill is gods-knows how many Highlanders. Are you still going to tell me not to worry about it?’

Viktor had looked up, at the sky, watched a bird cross the field. And then he had turned back to Freed with an expression of utter serenity. ‘Anything can happen,’ he had said. ‘Maybe Shu’s known all the time we’d end up like this, and it’s actually part of some long-cooking strategy he’s been keeping from us all. Or maybe Riou will shake off whoever’s gotten him. Or maybe I’ll discover the Souleater Rune hiding behind a rock and Souleat us all to safety.’

Freed had given him a withering look – the same look he was giving Viktor now.


Out on the field, the sun glinted off something moving quickly across the grass.

“A rider,” Freed said, shielding his eyes from the sun. “It’s Sasuke.”

“Why is a ninja scout riding out in broad daylight?” Viktor asked, with a chuckle. Just as quickly, the mirth died in his throat. If a ninja saw the need to eschew secrecy, he must have been in a real hurry.

Sasuke had dismounted before the horse could come to a full stop.

“Viktor,” Sasuke was a good head shorter than either Freed or Viktor. Shorter than most of the other soldiers, really. But when he spoke, it was with a sense of gravity that would usually have Viktor raising jokes about someone trying to reach puberty before their time. Not this time though.

“It’s your lucky day,” Sasuke said.

“Let me guess,” Viktor said. “The enemy took a peek over the ridge, saw that the company laying in wait for them was being led by none other than ‘ol Viktor here, and so they decided they should just tuck their tails between their legs and slink away. Eh?”

Sasuke was not smiling. “Making their way to the top of that hill, with full intent of charging down on your sorry arses, is the White Wolf Guard.”

At his words, Viktor felt the entirety of the week’s efforts crashing down on his shoulders. If he weren’t leaning on his sword, he might have fallen to his knees – all the life had drained from his limbs. To his side, he saw Freed’s face go as white as his shirt.

“Luca Blight’s army,” Freed whispered.

He didn’t need to say it. It took Viktor some effort to swallow the lump that had welled up in his throat. Their chances of survival had just gone from ‘faint’, to ‘infentesimal’, to ‘laughable’.

“Well,” he said, through a long, slow breath. “It is my lucky day, isn’t it?”

“Viktor,” Freed was babbling now. “There’s no way—if we decide to retreat now—“

Sasuke’s lips were a perfectly straight line, but there was a quiver in his eyes. “If we move quickly—“ he began, but Viktor raised a hand.

“You think these boys can move quickly enough?” Viktor nodded at the army at their backs. There were a few hundred of them left, and Viktor knew that their collective stink would be enough to fell whoever hadn’t spent the last few days among them, shoulder to shoulder, day and night, drawing whatever strength they could from increasingly watery stew.


“They’ll follow us,” Viktor said. “And in the end they’ll cut us down.”

He threw a sidelong glance at the boys. They knew something was up – they’d started getting to their feet. Before Viktor was a general in Riou’s army, he had been a mercenary for the City-State of Jowston. Before that, he had fought in the Rebellion in the Scarlet Moon Empire. He knew fear when he saw it. Right now, he could see it etched on the face of every one of the City-State’s finest.

“If they get to us, they’ll get to Flik. And that’ll be two companies down,” Viktor wiped his hand across his hair. “No,” he said. “At least one of us has to get back to Riou.”

Neither Freed nor Sasuke argued. They knew it as well as he did.

Viktor turned his back to them, looking out, over the shoulders of whoever of his company had remained standing. Somewhere, a half day’s march away, Flik was probably pushing his own band of bedraggled boys back towards Radat. Flik of the Blue Lightning bolting away, Viktor thought with a grim smile.


The night they had conducted the coin toss, Viktor had called heads, and Flik, tails.

‘Well then,’ Flik had said, adjusting that ridiculous bandana he always insisted on wearing, ‘Guess we’re staying, and you’re going.’

‘Not a chance,’ Viktor had said, crossing his arms. ‘Your boys are worse off than mine. If we leave you to guard our tails, you’ll get mowed over in a heartbeat.’

Flik’s eyes had flashed at that. ‘You doubt we could cover you?’

‘No, not at all,’ Viktor had paused, for dramatic effect. ‘Well, yes. Obviously, you guys wouldn’t stand a chance. And if you don’t, that’d leave us exposed wouldn’t it?’

Flik had rubbed his head, in consternation. ‘So what are you suggesting?’

‘My boys and I will stay here, while you lot go off,’ Viktor had said. ‘We have a far better chance than you do. Far, far better.’

When Flik shook his head, Viktor had thrown his hands up, in mock exasperation. ‘Look,’ Viktor had said. ‘We’ve known each other since Scarlet Moon. Have I ever lied to you?’

‘I have known bandits with more honesty than you,’ Flik shot back. ‘We fought alongside some of them in Scarlet Moon, remember?’

But then his tone had softened. ‘Viktor,’ he had said. ‘You’re not planning on doing something reckless, are you? Don’t tell me you’re off to make some kind of last stand.’

Viktor had scoffed. ‘Me? Why would I… You know me, I’m just a…’ he shrugged. ‘I’m just a bum. I just want to get this whole messy business over with so I can go back to Leona’s and get a beer.’

Flik had half-smiled at that. ‘Beer at Leona’s eh? Very well. Make that two beers.’

‘Aye,’ Viktor said. ‘Both for me.’

The wind picked up again, touching cold sweat on the side of Viktor’s face. He imagined he could see the tips of spears lining the hill, making the entire ridge shine like the edge of an impossibly long blade.

“Rouse the boys,” he said to Freed. “Get them in order. You have five minutes.”


There are certain situations one never wants to be in. On the top of that list is standing downhill of Highland’s Royal Guard. They had marched up the ridge slowly – to give the army on the lower ground a perfect view of their banners, and their shining armour. The echo of metal plates clattering in rhythm reached Viktor’s ears. Wouldn’t be long now.

He adjusted the strap of his breast plate, pulled his gloves up tight. He unsheathed his sword, which he had not bothered cleaning in the last day or so. The reflection he saw through the grime made him wince.

Behind him, Freed and Sasuke had gotten the State soldiers in more or less respectable lines. The ones up front were in a terrible state – they kept turning to one another, muttering furtively. One boy was trying to get his helmet in place. His hands were trembling.

Viktor sighed. He didn’t remember his sword being so heavy, but he brought it up, the flat of the blade resting against his shoulder. He snapped his head to one side so he heard the crack in his neck, and then to the other side. And then he pulled the widest smile he could, and faced the men.

“You’re looking like a sorry bunch of losers,” he bellowed. He had to strain a little bit, to be heard above the din, but he was lucky to have the sort of voice that carried easily. The men immediately quieted down. Even Sasuke and Freed paused, turning to him.

Viktor gesticulated with his free hand. “Look at you all! You—“ he pointed at the boy who’d been trying to get his helmet in place.

“Fix your helmet. You may have forgotten, but you happen to be in the middle of a war.” That got a few derisive snickers. “And you—“ Viktor pointed to another soldier at random. “Look at the state of you! If Freed here,” he pointed at Freed, “Can keep his shirt spotless, so should you! Being in the middle of a war is no excuse to be a slob.” A few genuine laughs this time. Good. Now came the hard part.

“I know the last few days have been a bit of a bother for us all, but Destiny has just given us a great opportunity,” he could feel how dry his tongue had gotten. He made up for it by speaking even louder. “Over there,” he said, pointing at the hill with his sword, “Is Highland’s White Wolf Guard. You heard that right – we are facing none other than Prince Luca Blight.”

Viktor raised his hand and continued, before the murmuring that rose up from the company could overwhelm him. “Yes—you know that name, don’t you? You remember what happened at Ryube. At Toto.” And at my old fort, Viktor thought.

“He burned them down. That monster killed men, women and children. Who hasn’t lost a loved one to this lunatic?”

He paused. Let that sink in. “When Luca Blight looks at the City-State, he probably sees cattle up for the slaughter. He’s probably standing over there now, telling his men that we are just a bunch of stupid cows about to be turned into meat.”

Viktor turned to the men, saw anguish creeping into their faces. Viktor breathed deep, making his voice ring in the breeze.

“I don’t know about you sorry bastards, but I,” Viktor pounded on his chest with his fist, “I am here to prove him wrong.”

He gestured outwards. “I was born in the State,” he said. “I grew up in a town called North Window. There is no way I’m letting this—this royal brat—believe that he can come into this land and do whatever he likes.”

Viktor felt his face growing hot. Spit flew from his mouth. “Destiny has brought the wolf to our feet,” he yelled. “Now I’m not gonna lie to you boys—you know me better than that. This isn’t a situation I see us walking out of.”

“But this,” he said, “This is our chance to cuff him in the jaw. We’re going to knock his teeth out. We—“ he gestured at all of them. “Are going to show this maniac that the State gives as good as it gets!”

Viktor glanced at Freed, standing glassy-eyed, and Sasuke, whose hands were balled into fists.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Viktor said, cocking his head to the side. “Some of you boys might think ‘ol Viktor’s just talking a lot of crap. So tell you what–when those Highland scum come running down the hill, you can all take on the wolflings. Bring them down. But you all leave the mad prince to me.”

Here, Viktor pointed his own grimy finger, at his own grimy face. “You leave him to me.”

He registered surprise on their faces. And, not a small amount of awe.

Now or never, Viktor thought. With all the strength he had, he raised his sword over his head. “Who’s with me!?”

He had never felt more relief in his life when the company roared, and floating above them all, the cries from Freed and Sasuke.

Viktor turned towards the fields, towards the gathering enemy, biting his lip to keep down the awful wet heat that had crept up his throat. Behind him, the company had a single voice that carried far, far out. Viktor hoped that somewhere, Luca Blight could hear them.


“Fantastic speech,” Freed said, drawing his horse up alongside Viktor’s. “I—I do believe the State will be singing of this day for years to come.”

Viktor had to grimace. The man’s eyes were bright. Had he actually teared up? Funny man, Freed.

“Yeah, didn’t know you had it in you,” Sasuke said, sidling up alongside them. He had traded his ninja accruements for a soldier’s spear and sword. “I was shocked actually. I thought Flik had the brains.”

“That’s sweet,” Viktor said, through bared teeth. “But since we’ll all probably be dead in a few minutes, I’m gonna let that slide.”

“Viktor,” Freed held out a hand. “It’s been an honor and privilege serving with you.”

Viktor looked from Freed’s eyes, to his outstretched hand. Freed had a wife didn’t he? Some dark-haired lady, waiting for him. What was her name again? Yoshimune? Yoshinoya? Whoever she was, she’d probably curse Viktor’s name til the day she died.

“Yup,” Viktor said, taking Freed’s hand and giving it a squeeze. He hoped his own hand wasn’t as sweaty.

“And you,” Viktor said, turning to Sasuke. Out in the afternoon light, Sasuke looked all of his sixteen years. Viktor wondered if he had a girlfriend back in that ninja village he came from, if there was anyone who’d hate him if Sasuke never came back. “There’s still a chance for you, you know,” Viktor said. “You’re a ninja. You can just smoke screen yourself out of here if you want.”

Sasuke bared his teeth. “Don’t you dare,” he said. “I’m not about to bring shame to the Hamlet of Rokkaku.”

Viktor was about to point out that the Hamlet of Rokkaku wasn’t really even in the City-State of Jowston when up from the other end of the field rose a deep and steady rumbling.

Viktor held a hand up, signalling for the men to restrain their horses.

“What is that?” Sasuke asked. His voice was suddenly a lot softer.

“Drums,” Freed said solemnly. “The drums of the Royal Guard.”

Up on the hill, the first lines of shining white armor began to trudge forward. Viktor felt a wild thrill course through him.

“They’re coming,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “This is it. This will be the Last Stand of Lord Viktor the Lion-hearted.”

To his left, Freed gave a solemn nod, but to his right Sasuke snorted audibly.

“First of all,” the boy said, “You’re not a Lord. You’re an upstarted mercenary who had the fool’s luck of falling in with the man who’d lead the City-State’s army. Second, where did you get ‘lion-hearted’?”

“I like it,” Viktor said, watching the steady advance of Highland down the field. “There’s a ring to it. Isn’t that right, Freed?”

Freed, who was now torn between watching the Highland advance and taking part in this conversation, seemed merely confused.

“You’ve always looked more bear than lion,” Sasuke drawled. “How about bear-hearted?”

“No one wants to be called bear-hearted,” Viktor snapped. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Freed coughed, politely. “Shouldn’t we be advancing?” he asked.

“Wait,” Viktor gazed down the field. From here, he was beginning to find faces underneath the gray helms, but not the one he was watching out for. A small part of him was beginning to hope. “What are the chances he’ll be commanding his troops from behind?”

Sasuke pointed to a spot where an opening had appeared in the line of troops. “No such luck,” Sasuke said. “Luca Blight is a madman, but he’s no coward.”

From behind the line came a small squad of mounted knights, who in turn parted to reveal a rider in stark white armor gilded with gold at the edges, and a long deep blue cape that fell back from his shoulders. He wore no helmet, so that Viktor could see the crescent smile on his face.

Viktor muttered obscenities under his throat. He just had to say it, didn’t he?

He turned to Freed. “Sound the horns,” he said.

Freed gave a signal and the blast of trumpets came from behind. Viktor raised his sword as high as he could, and urged his steed forward. To his sides, Freed straightened his uniform, dusting the dirt off his shoulders, and Sasuke lifted his spear.

“Forward!” Viktor yelled.


They seemed impossibly slow, spreading out into the field. Their lines matched Highland’s, or at least Viktor hoped. A bird flying overhead would have seen half the field filling up with Highland gray, and the other half, with a very filthy City-State green.

Viktor pointed his sword at the growing wall of enemies, and urged his horse just a tiny bit faster. The soldiers on either side of him kept up, hoofbeats building up like rolling thunder as Viktor pushed them faster, never dropping the point of his blade from the very spot Luca Blight was bringing up his knights.

He could see the mad prince’s face, could hear his laughter mixed with the whip of his cape, flying out behind him. Viktor blinked – in the time it took for him to shut his eye and open it, he saw a dozen faces, like all the years behind him had collapsed into a stream that threatened to carry him away.

He saw North Window, where he had grown up, saw his adopted sister Daisy smiling up at him as she did one summer day years and years ago. He saw the Rebel headquarters at the Scarlet Moon Empire, remember distinctly the voice of Odessa Silverburg telling him, ‘Viktor, stop making fun of Flik’s bandanna, it stopped being funny an hour ago’. He remembered the last bottle of wine he’d shared with Anabelle of Muse, that saucy woman, who was worth more to the City-State’s cause than a hundred men, which is why Highland had her killed. He saw Riou, after they’d fished him out of the river, and Viktor had no cause to believe he was anything other than a terrfied, half-drowned kid…

Their faces disappeared to the storm of horse hoofs beating the ground into mud, and the cries of a hundred soldiers – among them, Viktor realized, his own.

“LUCA BLIGHT I WILL CUT YOU DOWN!” His steed was going at full gallop – and so was Luca’s, headed right at him. A noise of pure rage tore itself from Viktor’s throat – more bear than lion, he had the time to think – and then he was raising his sword to meet the fall of Luca’s blade.

The scream of steel against steel burst through Viktor’s ears, with a shock that seemed to drive its way down his arm and into his bones. A gust of air as they rode past one another – Viktor could see sharp-edged shrapnel glinting in the air, in their wake. The sword in his hand had broken right through the blade.

His entire arm had gone numb, so it seemed he was watching someone else’s hand loosening its grip on the shattered sword, and then reaching towards the sheath on his saddle for the spare, pulling it out with an audible twang. Viktor tugged on the reins, forcing his horse back around. At the exact same moment, Luca was doing the same, his jet black destrier rearing up on its hind legs. Luca had traded his first sword for a second as well, was grinning wildly at Viktor.

Well, Viktor thought. At least I’ve got his attention.

The two reared around, swords raised, horses screeching. This time Luca’s attack came from above, and Viktor met it, swinging from underneath. The impact made Viktor’s teeth rattle, but he realized, with a small grim smile, that he could match the prince blow for blow – the entirety of Luca’s might was against the last and most potent of Viktor’s reserves of strength, boiled up through a week of fending back waves upon waves of enemies, and bursting forth in the face of death. They remained, swords locked, eye to eye through the cross of blades.

“Remember me, you bastard?” Viktor saw, with deep satisfaction, that the prince’s nose wrinkled at the smell of onions in his breath. Viktor pressed down, biting through his words. “You burned my fort down.”

Luca’s smile grew tight. “I’ve burned many forts down,” he hissed.

At the corner of his eye, Viktor could see Freed taking on two of Luca’s knights at once, his rapier crackling with energy from his lightning rune. Not too far away, Sasuke had lost his horse, but he seemed even faster on his feet, darting from the ranks of State soldiers, appearing amongst the enemy with a hail of shuriken, disappearing just as quickly.

Viktor pulled away from his opponent, this time going on the offense, bringing his sword down in a barrage that Luca, infuriatingly, managed to block.

“I’m Viktor of North Window!” he yelled, bringing his sword down. “Viktor the Mercenary! Viktor of Riou’s Army!”

He reared back, both hands on the hilt of his sword, brought it crashing down with all the strength he possessed.

“I’m Viktor the Lion-hearted!” he yelled. “Don’t you ever forget that!”

He heard Luca grunt under the strain, saw a momentary flinch that he hoped was fear. But then Luca broke away, his eyes perfectly cold. He pointed his sword right at Viktor’s chin.

“All I see is a nameless, faceless pig,” Luca said through gnashed teeth.

Luca raised his sword, but this time, something strange happened – at first Viktor thought it was the sun catching the edge of his blade that made it seem to flare up so brightly it made Viktor squint. But the sun was behind them – and Luca’s sword was on fire.

Viktor instinctively raised his arm—was there something in Luca’s sword, he wondered, was it some kind of rune?—but it was a moment too late. Luca slashed downward in an arc of flame that made Viktor’s eyebrows crackle. The edge caught Viktor full on the chest.

There wasn’t any pain – just a sudden shock that when Viktor touched the path the sword had left, he found a long gouge in his armor that stretched right into his flesh.

But the sword was ablaze, Viktor thought, why did he feel cold? Why did he feel like he’d been suddenly plunged in icy waters, his limbs so heavy he couldn’t lift them? Viktor was dimly aware that he’d dropped his own sword. A single dull thought thudded in his mind – he should pick up his sword. He found himself leaning over, on the side of his horse, couldn’t keep his balance, realized he was sliding right off his saddle, and landing with a heavy thump on the ground. He could smell burning meat – he realized it was coming from him. And then, came the pain.


He’s laughing at me, Viktor thought. And he’s right to – he must have looked a sorry sight, one hand still on his chest, the other reaching outward, trying to find his sword.

“Where’s your courage now?” There was a terrible delight in Luca’s tone. “Get up. Get up! Do you want to be slaughtered with your face in the ground?”

Viktor sighed into the grass. Luca was a hateful bastard, but he had a point. There was no way Viktor would let himself die creeping on the ground. Viktor could feel blood coming up his throat, and there was a weight on his chest that increased when he twitched, but he forced himself to his knees—and that was as far as he could go.

“Yes, yes, that’s right,” Luca laughed, dismounting. “Just like that.”

Viktor thought with some regret that the last thing he’d see on this earth was that maniac’s grin. But he smiled back, blood dribbling down his lips.

Luca raised his sword again. “Die, pig.”


Viktor supposed that it was because he was in his dying moment that time seemed to slow down. He saw the rise of Luca’s arm, the creases of his long blue cape deepening, a single long ray of light traveling up the blade, freezing at its tip.

No, Viktor thought, the last thing he would see in this world would not be Luca Blight’s face. No, Viktor’s eyes sought something more pleasant, more peaceful. He allowed his gaze to travel up, towards the sky, and the clouds.

It really was a beautiful day – he could see the gold of the sun on the underside of the clouds, growing brighter, and the brightness was spreading outwards so the sky seemed to be turning white…

Wait, Viktor thought. What?

Luca must have seen the look on his face, because he started as well, and looked up.

There was a brightness that had nothing to do with the sun spreading across the sky, and in the light Viktor imagined he could see the entire spectrum of the rainbow, in broad swathes the size of mountains.

“What—“ He had been thinking it, but it was Luca who said it aloud, with a sense of wonder and surprise Viktor imagined no one had ever heard from the prince before. Luca’s voice was the loudest thing in a field that had very quickly turned quiet, with each and every man’s face turned up to the sky.

And then Viktor remembered, he had seen this before. Something like this at least. Never this big though. Never this bright.

He choked back a noise that could have been a sob or a laugh.

“Riou,” he whispered.

The brightness seemed to shatter all of a sudden, and uncountable specks of light were falling from the sky, like a gentle snow drifting quietly to the field. As the specks drifted down, Viktor saw Luca transfixed on the light, like a boy might watch fireflies on a dark night.

Bright specks of light settled down upon Viktor’s head. The light was warm, and he could feel it doing its work in the wound on his chest.

He imagined Riou standing somewhere not too far away, maybe beside Shu, or Nanami, with his right hand raised high, and the rune etched upon the palm shining with the same kind of brightness.

Viktor had to chuckle. “Great timing, kid,” he muttered to himself.

At the far end of the field came the sound of horns – Highland’s. A new army had appeared at the hillside – green uniforms, and the bright red banners of Riou’s Company. The noise snapped Luca out of his trance, and he cursed, violently.

“So the boy’s snuck up behind us, has he?”

Viktor could feel the wound on his chest closing up, the energy returning to his limbs like he hadn’t lost blood at all.

“What’s the matter?” Viktor asked. “No one to watch your backsides?”

Luca turned upon him with a look of pure malice. Bright flame erupted across his sword again, but this time, Viktor was ready.

With a speed that wouldn’t have been possible just a moment before, Viktor was on his feet, side-stepping the flaming arc of Luca’s sword, and behind him. Viktor grabbed a handful of the prince’s deep blue cape and tugged.

Viktor greeted the shock on the prince’s face with a look of pure evil mischief. And he flipped the heavy fabric over the mad prince’s head.

The noises of indescribable outrage that came muffled from under the cape were the most precious thing Viktor had ever heard. This way, he thought, Luca Blight did not look at all like the White Wolf of Highland, and more an Ugly Hanging Curtain. That was until Viktor—with an almost drunken sense of delight—kicked him square in the rear. Now Luca was a Crumpled Piece of Curtain.

“Remember this moment!” Viktor yelled, to the struggling mass of blue cloth. “This is the day Viktor the Lion-hearted kicked you in the arse!”

And like any child who had done wrong, Viktor turned tail and fled.


“Retreat!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. Not far away, he could see his soldiers moving with a vigor he hadn’t seen since they began the campaign – he imagined that a bit of the Bright Shield Rune’s power still emanated from them, from how wide their smiles were.

Viktor turned to the side and Sasuke was beside him, with a tiny grin on his face. Freed came up from behind them, still on his steed, overtaking them easily. Freed’s shirt was covered in grime, but he rode like a man at the head of a parade.

“Leave them to Lord Riou!” Freed was shouting.

Viktor only turned to look behind once – and that was to see a pair of Luca’s soldiers clustered around their liege, trying in vain to untangle the cape around the prince’s head, while Luca tried to shake them off.

Viktor laughed – he felt like he could run for miles and miles. Two beers, he thought. At Leona’s. Both for me. Three even. Or four. Flik would match him mug for mug. Hell, he’d buy a round for Riou as well. For everyone. For the whole damn army. And then he himself would tell them how he faced the mad prince and survived, on the day that wasn’t the Last Stand of Viktor the Lion-Hearted.



The Genso Suikoden series and its characters are property of Konami, this story was written for fun and not profit.



  1. balance-curve said,

    Damn, this girl gets it. It is truly a wonderful thing when reading a fanfic instantly transports you back to your childhood. You clearly have a great love for this series for your story and characterizations to be so respectfully reproduced. Nothing about these situations or dialogue would appear out of place in the actual game, and I think that’s what makes a great piece of fanfiction. Your account of the battle between Viktor (who, admittedly is my favourite character in the series) and Luca is so real and credible, that I have no doubt it my mind Viktor could pull this off despite the fact it took 18 party members and a swathe of arrows to finally bring him down. When Viktor brings Luca’s cape over his head and proceeds to boot him square in the ass, the tune “Rescue” from the OST instantly started playing in my head as I pictured Viktor’s hilarious shenanigans from the games. Bravo.

    • inthegrayworld said,

      Thanks for the comment!

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