Hello, all! So I got this idea in my head while writing the second chapter of "A Change in Time." However, I decided I'd use a more familiar format for this story, since... well, I'm not so great at first-person present-tense. So, I'm doing this one in third-person past-tense, just to see how they compare. It's a Fire Emblem fiction that I hope you can enjoy. =]

In other news, I'm thinking about writing a Gundam SEED, a Mass Effect, and an Elder Scrolls fic as well. Er, fics. Not crossovers.

... Anyway, here it is! =D

"Bold is a forceful voice."

"Italics are thoughts."

"Underlined is magical."

Chapter 01

Hired Help

Commander Greil was a large, rough looking man. His nose was a little long, and somewhat crooked. He had numerous battle scars. He wore armor at all times, even in his sleep. Even it was as little as a single pauldron, he was known by those in his mercenary company to always have armor on, even when he went to bathe. That was just something that made him Commander Greil. It said something about how close everyone was. There was no small amount of trust placed on his shoulders.

He was trusted to lead them in battle, to keep them alive. He was trusted to keep his word, to pay honestly for the work they do. He was trusted to keep a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. He was trusted to find work to pay for it all, and deploy the most suitable members for any given job.

He was good at it. To the company, that was the commander; good, no, better than good at what he did. The best, even. The people under him were inspired by him, and trained hard to be anywhere near as good as him. Unfortunately, they were a little too good. They had more work than they had people, and it would start to hurt their reputation if it came to the point where they prioritized certain types of jobs over others. Since their reputation of greatness, of being able to handle anything, grew so rapidly, if it got out that they couldn't keep up with the flow of jobs...

The collapse would be quick and horrible. He couldn't allow anything of the sort to happen. He had two children to care for, and a company who had placed their trust in him. It was maddening. Commander Greil had spent several sleepless nights thinking about what to do, when an offhand comment from Shinon slapped him in the face with the solution. It was sometimes hard for him to remember, since it had been so long since he'd done it, but the fix was fairly simple. Hire new people.

However, he simply didn't have the time to train another raw recruit, and everyone who could either already was or was working as many jobs as possible. By the time they would be useful to the company, it would already be doomed. Still, even with the current workload, the Greil Mercenaries also didn't make enough money for a seasoned veteran. They couldn't be haggled down because they'd know how much their services were worth. Then there was the cost of weapons, armor, and maintainence for both, not to mention food, to think of.

Which brings him to his current situation. Job interviews. He didn't particularly care for them, but there were a bit of a necessity right now. So far, he had weeded out over one hundred applicants for 'not meeting the minimum requirements.' Which they hadn't. Most were glory hungry youths hoping to piggy-back their way to greatness. Others were simply too... abrasive. Someone would lose their temper with the poor fool and kill him, of that he had no doubts. In either case, they'd definitely be dead within with the month.

Having sent out the last fool kid about five minutes prior, he called Soren to let in the next applicant. "It's almost a shame I don't believe in resume's. This would probably go much faster if I did," he thought idly, as he waited for the door to open. When it did, he was not prepared for what he saw. A short woman with long and wavy ice blue hair, dressed to a miliary 'T' in a the light, easy to move in armor of the Pegasus Knights, marched in through the door and immediately stood attention. Her back as straight up and down the lance in her left hand, her chin up, shoulders back, and feet together, her cool blue eyes straight ahead... it was obvious that this woman was from the military.

Still, something was off about her. Her armor was not the white, silver, and gold of Begnion's Pegasus Knights. No, instead of the wearing the colors of the only group of Pegasus Riders anyone had ever heard of, her armor was white and three different shades of blue. It also seemed to be modified, having pieces of the average Soldier's make attached to her breastplate, arm guards, leg guards, and shoulders. The shield often seen being wielded by Heroes hung over her back, on top a quiver of steel arrows. There was no doubting she was skilled.

However, that wasn't it. Something else about her was off, but the commander couldn't figure out what it was. "Oh well, might as well get this interview over with. From the look in her eye, she's a veteran. She'll likely ask for more than we can pay, and I'll have to send her on her way. ... Damn it. Still, I'd better at least get her name," he thought to himself with a mental grumble. Reaching across his desk for his quill, he pulled up a parchement with his other hand and readied himself to write a small profile. In this line of work, who knew if or when they'd have to fight each other? "Name, age, and combat experience?"

It did not escape the commander's notice that the blue haired woman stiffened at the inquiry of her age. "Florina of Ilia. 27 winters old, born in spring. I was a mercenary working with Begnion troops during the Gobol Mountain Bandit raid and subsequent purge," she stated in her cool and steeled, yet quiet, voice. Much of the interview followed in the same vein. Commander Greil would as ask a question, and Florina would give an answer that was short and to the point, with as little extra information as possible.

"That's a different way to count age than what I've ever heard." - "It's the way I count my age."

"Your armor marks you as a Pegasus Knight. On the E to S scale, how would you rate your skill with a lance?" - "Double S."

"Have you ever worked with a mercenary company before?" - "Several times."

"Which ones?" - "Lyn's Legion, Eliwood's Elite, and Hector's Horde are most prominent."

"I've never heard of them." - "They're dead."

"How long have you been working as a mercenary?" - "Since I was 14 winters old."

"Have you ever been tried or convicted of a crime?" - "No."

"I heard the Gobal Mountain Incedent was a difficult fight all around. From you experience, could you tell me why?" - "They were skilled with traps."

The Commander asked for more details on the Gobol Mountain Bandit Incident, saying he needed to verify her identity. This was the truth, but what he really wanted was to figure out her reasons for wanting to join. Hopefully before he had to ask. If he ended up turning her away, it was better to keep what he was looking for under wraps for as long as possible. Unfortunately, as he looked over her small, well-toned, well-armed and well-armored frame, her body language said the same thing as her replies. She was as cold as ice, if not colder, and had no desire for the warmth of combradrie.

"Still," the commander pondered, "With her skills, she could easily find work, especially if she is as good as she said. Why come to the Greil Mercenaries for pay undoubtedly less than what she could get on her own?" He paused from writing his profile of her, switching to drawing a small face portrait instead. For the next few minutes, he remained outwardly silent, the picture of calm and cool. On the inside, he debated heatedly with himself the merit of prying further into her past. In the end, it was his picture drawing that decided it.

As he had been deep in thought, his hand ran away from him and turned his usual face portrait into a full body dipiction. When the commander finally noticed his blunder and saw what he had drawn, he realized that this pegasus rider had some rather... maternal physical features, dispite her small body. In fact, his own past military experience told him that a girl of her size and body type would not have said features without having a child, maybe two. As for how he knew... well, love finds a way, even in the army.

With that bit of information, everything she said seemed to make sense. She was a mother. A mother who needed money to raise her child, and couldn't afford the same amount of travel as before. A cautious mother, who seemed to make herself as ice to keep people from prying, from finding out she has a weakness at home. Knowing this now, he decided he needed to know more, if he was to hire her. He firmly believed that children should never be caught in the crossfire of war. However, she'd likely deny having a child if he asked.

Looking up at her, he opened his mouth to ask how old her child was, only to be cut off before he could speak. "So you figured it out," her cool voice said, much softer than before. However, the steel had not left her. It had merely moved to her eyes. "What do you plan to do with the information? Know that if you attempt to use my child in any manner, I will gut you like a fish and hang your loved ones with your entrails." Needless to say, the commander was surprised at the sudden shift in her mood. He could not help but be slightly unnerved at her gently spoken declaration, no, recital of fact.

For that was what it was. The small mercenary woman had the skill and the determination to brutally murder him and his loved ones. If she decided it was necessary, they would all be dead within the hour. Even so, there was a more important message that he was just too keen to miss; if he wronged her child, even indirectly, it would be his children that died. The matter of the room seemingly getting colder at the time of her statment/threat only helped her get the point accross.

However, he was the commander, leader, and founder of the acclaimed Greil Mercenaries for a reason. None of his surprise showed on his face or in his body language. Whatever moment of shock he had was so brief that it more akin to a tenth of a moment. The fact that he knew she was just as strong as he used to be never left the deepest, darkest recesses of his mind. This was his home. In this place, he was lord and master. He held absolute control, and there was none that could overrule him. That aura is what he projected to Florina as he spoke.

"Florina, I have no intention of involving your family against your will. I have two children of my own. You probably saw one of them on the way in. As a mercenary and as a parent, I fully understand your worry." The veteran flyer seemed to accept this, acknowledging it only by removing the steel from her eyes. "If it would make things easier on you, we could provide lodging-"

"No, it's fine. She will stay with my husband," she interupted softly. The commander's analyzing gaze stayed on her, though. For the next few minutes of silence, he looked her in the eyes and offered to help, somehow, with his. Every effort, every offer that was sent-but-not-spoken, was deflected and turned down by the female warrior's icy blues. In the end, Commander Greil relented.

With a light sigh, he stopped projecting what he called his 'General Aura' and relaxed a bit. "So far," he thought to himself, "This interview has gone fairly well. She's very skilled, but it seems her circumstances may put her within my price range. I got lucky." Oh, but how he hated the next part. Resigning himself to speak of his hated topic, he cleared his throat and said, "Well, let's talk payment." Thus the haggling began.

As a former high-ranking member of the army, resource management was nothing new to him. That didn't mean he liked it, however. Managing large portions of anything had never been a problem for him, so he'd often be called to help out with the planning of public events. "The knights exist for the security of the kingdom, after all. Why not get the toughest one of them all to help make the event more secure?" was the usual reasoning. And the commander would do just that, until he saw the event staff doing something inadequately and started scolding the them on how to do it more efficiently. It happened so often that he usually just ended up planning most of the events by himself!

Still, the logistics of parades and fairs were much preferable to the flames of war, and infinitely more appealing than the logistics of war. If his own circumstances had allowed him to become a merchant after the army... No, he'd likely still be a mercenary. Fighting was simply too much a part of him for him to suddenly stop, no matter how much he loved peace. Also, he hated numbers. Numbers sucked, no matter how useful they were. He especially hated the number 9, since it made him feel like death was looming over his shoulder.

Thankfully, the payment negotiations didn't take very long, as her asking price was only a little higher than what he originally intended to pay her. After a small discussion about her pegasus's place in their stables and when blue-haired lancewoman would start, everything was finally settled. With a smile and a firm handshake, the deal was sealed. Leaning back in his chair, the commander couldn't help but release the small sigh of relief he had been holding in. Now that the room wasn't so tense, Florina couldn't help but tease him. "I'm not that scary, am I?" She jabbed.

Commander Greil just laughed. "Well... don't tell anyone, in case it gets back to my children, but I've never particularly cared for numbers," he said jovially.

A far-away look took to Florina's eyes, nostalgia of her early days warming her. "Quality over quantity, ah? Yes, I can understand that," the small mother chuckled out.

The commander chuckled as well. "There's that too, but I'm a little more concerned with their education. I'd rather not have my children swindled because they didn't know their numbers. That would mean I failed to guide them properly, and as a father I simply can't allow that," he told her amicably.

The two chatted a bit more, talking about recent events in the Kingdom of Crimea and the rest of the world, but Florina had family to return to. Excusing herself politely, she turned to walk out the door. When the commander called out to her, however, she stopped in the doorway with her hand on the frame. "Wait! Before you go, I have a question. It's a mere curiosity of mine, and you don't have to answer, but it's been nagging at me the entire interview," he stated cautiously. She looked at him over her shoulder to show she was listening.

"I apologize if it's a little too personal, but... where is this 'Ilia' you say you're from?"

Dun dun dun!

I like how this chapter turned out, but any advice would be appreciated.

Read, Review, and I hope you come back for more! =]

... That is all.

-Maxxus Herald