Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem or any characters, places, storylines etc. attached to it. Intelligent Systems and Nintendo do. The only thing I claim is my own craft.
Chapter 1:
Traveller on the Plains
Dev trudged through the tall grass of the Sacaen Plains. She was heading vaguely south-west-ish…she hoped. She couldn't tell at this point. However, if she wasn't travelling east or north, she was happy. East led to Bern. North to Ilia. Neither was a place she wanted to return to. Being in Bern brought back memories she would rather have left buried. Ilia was in no way an option.
She'd run out of food a week ago, and her last waterskin had been dry for two and a half days, and she'd been drinking pretty sparingly from it for a few days before it had run out. A river now…was the stuff of dreams. A river, or better–a village. She had a vague idea that Bulgar was somewhere around here. That would be nice. Which was a huge understatement. She had some money–there was 200 gold in her pouch, enough to keep her going for about a month and a half, two if she stretched it. Assuming she ever found a town, that was.
The plains were infuriating. Empty, bigger by far than was required of any decent continent, never mind a bloody plain. She should have gone straight to Lycia, not taken this 'shortcut', even if it had taken her out of Bern. The further she walked, the further she could see, and it was all grass. Grass, grass, grass. Grass to the north, grass to the south, grass to the east, and to the west, yes! it was more–
No. Dev stopped walking to stare at the dark blot on the horizon. Blots in a place like this meant one thing. A village! Or a house, or…or… alright, there was more than one thing a blot like that could be, but all of them meant people! People with food and water! With houses and shops, or work to be done! Even if it was just a mercenary camp, she could pay for food. Maybe even work for them, if they wouldn't accept coin for food. She didn't like the idea, but it was a way to eat. And if she didn't do that, she'd be dead in a week. Quicker if she didn't find water.
Already thinking over a tale to tell and excuses for being lost, thrusting the idea of mercenaries, battles and such unwanted things from her mind, she began to run toward the blot.
………………..
It was no village, nor was it a mercenary camp. It was an informal graveyard; the remnants of a camp set up by the Sacaen nomads. The tents, sturdy gers and yurts, were torn down, burned or trampled into the ground. She looked around, wary but calm; the stench of blood and death had long fled this place. The remains of the village were already rotting away, helped by insects and animals which would have been driven away by the nomads. One pole, a once-sturdy thing which had supported a ger wall, snapped in her hand as she twisted it, and she was not strong. The inside was honeycombed, as if gnawed at by insects.
The bodies which must have littered the ground had been buried in the middle of the camp, and a wooden, not stone, marker informed any who came that the Lorca had fallen here, listing at least a hundred names, maybe two. It looked as if it had once been a plain door. It was beginning to weather, and from the date, it had to have been at least four months ago. The tribe had been attacked or burned last year, and it was now mid-spring.
A grave separate from the rest, although not too far from the rest of the clan, bore a more personal marker; the names on it were Hassar and Madelyn. Dev raised an eyebrow. She had never heard of a Sacaen called Madelyn. The people of Bern, and of Lycia, favored such odd names, just as the Ilians tended to favor names beginning in 'F', 'H' or 'S' or evoking the sound of wind. The Sacaens favored shorter names, or names which evoked some form of nature. What was more…Madelyn… She was sure she'd heard that name somewhere before…
She saw a shadow move to her left and ran to confront it. Someone who could help her? Someone who was injured? She searched half the town, calling out for the caster, before she decided it was nothing.
She shook her head, triggering a headache. She'd been getting those lately, probably due to near-starvation. That was probably the reason she was seeing things, too. Touching her temple with her cold fingertips, she looked over the camp one last time, but couldn't believe anyone living would be in the place. There was a well, but she hesitated with her waterskin, and finally didn't drink from it at all. Who knew how these people had been killed, but the destruction of an entire tribe suggested something pretty pervasive; Sacaen nomads were, generally, very able to take care of themselves. If the well had been poisoned, or even tainted by a corpse (accidentally or otherwise), the contamination could still linger. She'd evaded Death by no more than a pegasus' hair more than once, but that was one of the reasons she didn't like to tempt him. Unfortunately, the presence of a well suggested the absence of a stream or any other natural source of water.
Dev settled down in a yurt that still had its roof, and, wrapping her cloak around her, went to sleep with her staff in her hands. It wasn't dark yet, but any shelter she could take advantage of was a bonus. Nights here were cold, the winds could be fierce, and she did not want to wake up and start going the way she'd come for lack of a landmark to judge by, in case it was cloudy. She was harboring wistful thoughts of rain.
The next day she got up, and started off towards the south without lingering any longer in the ruined camp. She didn't know if she was far enough west to avoid travelling back into Bern, but it would be close to Lycia, and she'd be far more likely to find herself at a house or village than in these interminable grasslands. Touching her temples again–that headache was back–she judged her direction from the sun –no clouds and no rain– and started out.
Around noon she began feeling faint. Her headache intensified, and once she was extremely disturbed to be on one side of a rock and, the next second, some forty feet on the other side of it. She scrubbed at her face with her hands, trying to refresh her senses somehow, and continued for another hour. …Stepping through the grass was becoming a chore. This had been happening lately, but she couldn't be this fatigued this early in the day…it was…what? She looked up at the sun to check. Just after noon…
She tripped on a depression in the earth and fell, catching herself. She looked; it was a rabbit hole. She grimaced and got back up, a little too quickly.
Light-headedness assailed her as she stood up. One of her hands flew to her head, dark spots obscured her vision, and the entire world seemed to sway like the deck of a ship. She began to fall, leaned on her staff and stepped backwards to catch herself, but was unable to balance. Frightened by her sudden weakness, she fell backwards, onto the rabbit hole, tried once to rise. She couldn't find the strength and fainted outright.
…………………….
She was greeted by the sight of a brightly-coloured cloth above her upon waking. Closing her eyes, she heard the sound of wind against stretched cloth, but not the noises of a camp. She was still dressed in her travelling clothes, but her cloak, gloves, staff and bag had been taken from her. Who ever had found her had placed her on a bed, under a light sheet. Something cold and wet–assumedly cloth, although she wasn't ruling out a frog or newt, some people had strange ideas about the healing properties of animals–was on her forehead. Opening her eyes again, she sat up, the action needing far more effort than she was accustomed to, and looked around her.
The cloth fell into her eyes. Reaching up to get it off, she heard a voice.
"Ah, you're awake! I was beginning to give up on you." The voice–youthful and female–came to the right. Most of the light had come from that direction; Dev assumed there was a door there. Moving the cloth off of her face, she looked up at her rescuer.
A girl, roughly the same age as Dev herself, stood in the doorway. She was taller than average, neither slightly nor strongly built, with dark turquoise eyes and dark green hair tied up in a simple ponytail that reached her knees. Her manner of dress, too, was in a simple style, a dark blue shirt under a light blue dress, ankle-length, split up the sides for ease of movement. Despite the simplicity of the style, the dress, her belt, and the jewellery she wore were all intricately embroidered, braided or tooled in designs that chased each other over cloth and leather, leaving a brief impression of great detail, detail that refused to stay in the mind. They were traditional Sacaen designs, easily recognised and much admired by artists in Etruria for their simplicity-through-complexity.
All of these details flashed through Dev's mind in an instant, to be overshadowed in a moment by one thing: This girl has food. If she hadn't been so hungry, she would have cared that the sight of the bread, cheese and dried meat was making her drool. As it was…
"Hungry?" the girl asked, laughter in her voice. Dev could only nod and swallow all the saliva her mouth was producing out of nowhere. The girl gave her the food and watched Dev gulp it down desperately before reluctantly remembering the (foresight-deficient) traveller's edict: 'Never break a fast with a feast,' and proceeded to eat more slowly, taking smaller bites. She wouldn't have been able to eat much more anyway; after the first bout of drool, her body seemed unable to come up with saliva to chew with. Her rescuer held up a jug of water and poured her a cup, handing it to her. Dev drank three such cups down gratefully and sighed, wondering how close she'd cut it this time. She'd fainted out there, but she'd done that before and woken up alright. Still, she needed to buy a map, a good one…or a sense of direction.
"Thank you," she said, looking the girl over again, covertly studying her this time. Her eyes were bright, full of life, and full of resilience too. She wore dark blue leather gloves, worn and nicked from use, probably with a sword. Capable of looking after herself, then, or just hopeful that she was. Somehow, Dev was inclined to think the former. "My name's Dev. Did you find me out on the plains?"
She nodded. "Yes. You'd tripped and hit your head, I'd thought…or maybe you just fainted from hunger?" Dev shrugged.
"A mixture of both, I guess. I was getting light-headed from hunger, tripped, fell, got up too quickly and fainted. I'm in your debt."
The girl shook her head and waved the statement away. "Not at all! I couldn't leave you out there, could I? My name's Lyn, of the Lorca." The Lorca tribe… She guessed she'd found one of the survivors of the attack on the camp she'd passed. Lyn probably didn't want to call attention to the fact that she was alone. Dev knew the feeling, maybe not as intensely, but an approximation of it. It was painful to call up past hurts, and, of course, there was always the consideration that someone alone anywhere was an invitation to brigands. Best on all counts to pretend you have someone nearby–like Lyn–or keep your head down as much as possible and carry nothing much worth stealing–like Dev. She held out the cup again and Lyn refilled it. She drank down her fourth cup and nodded.
"Then, thank you Lyn. If there's anything I can do for you–" Lyn patted her shoulder.
"I told you. It's nothing. You must believe me, because–"
"The people of Sacae never lie. Brave, honest and proud." Dev nodded. "I know. I know a lot, actually–I'm a traveller, and a somewhat studious one at that."
"I had guessed from your attire. What brings you to Sacae?" Dev winced inwardly–it's the bounty on my head, yeah, she'll react nicely to that–and avoided the question.
"Just travelling. I've wondered for a time about the plains of Sacae, and they're easier to get to than the Warrior Isles. They're quite interesting too–" Her attempt at diverting Lyn didn't work; Lyn frowned and prepared to re-phrase the question when she froze, looking at the cloth wall of the ger. Dev was silent as well; she'd head it too. Rough voices, yelling, harsh laughter and cracks, as of splitting wood.
"Bandits," Dev said, her voice lowered to a whisper, biting her lip. Damnit, she'd seen enough ruins for this week. Lyn stuck her head outside for a minute, and returned inside, grabbing her sword from a corner of the ger behind Dev; her own staff was there too, with her cloak and bag draped over it.
"They're going to attack a nearby family," Lyn was saying. "I'll deal with them; Key can't. There are only a few, so I think I can handle them." Oh crap. Her conscience was beginning to bother her. "You stay here where it's safe." She didn't have to; she could help! She was good at this, at tactics and direction, and yet… "I'll be back soon." Damned tactics had cost her so much, her home, the few friends she'd had. She wanted to forget it.
Lyn disappeared out the tentflap and was gone without waiting for a response. If there's anything I can do for you– Well, this was something, wasn't it? And she was going to chicken out. If there was one thing she'd been taught, that she still valued, it was honor, and she was untrue to it far too often. Breaking her promise, when she owed Lyn a debt... The knights she had worked with would never have done such a thing. Honor was almost the only thing she had left of them.
She grabbed her cloak, put it on hurriedly, letting her bag fall to the floor, and brought her staff with her as she ran after Lyn.
"Lyn, Lyn!" she called as quietly as she could, running up behind her. Lyn looked at her as if she were crazy, and maybe she was, coming back to these things. "Lyn," she continued, not listening to the part of her that screamed to go back inside, "I want to help. To repay you," she explained. "I can't leave you on your own." Lyn looked at Dev, then at the bandits, clearly torn.
"Well…Can you use a weapon?" she asked, looking at the staff in her hands doubtfully. Five and a half feet long, slightly taller than Dev herself, and made of hard oak, it was solid, but otherwise unremarkable. It didn't have a lot of capacity to cause damage to anyone compared to a sword (part of the reason Dev used it), but was thick and strong, and bore nicks and marks from encounters with blades, where it had saved its owner's life.
"Well enough to protect myself, not well enough to take anyone down," Dev answered, truthfully enough. "That wasn't my idea. You see…" She hesitated before saying the words that sent her headlong down the path Fate had planned for her.
"I'm a tactician by trade."
………………………..
"Go to the woods, and fight him, big ugly guy there, doesn't know what shoes are, from inside the cover of the trees. Don't let him in, use the branches to block his strokes, and it should be easy. That'll get him out of the way, and I'll see your style." And by the way, do I sound like I know what I'm doing? Hope so, because it's been too long for me to be risking your life with this nonsense. She hadn't done this, hadn't even thought like this, since she'd left Bern and begun traveling. She was rusty, and as far as she was concerned, she hadn't been too shiny before the rust started growing.
She watched Lyn run down to the edge of the small wood, more a glade than a forest, and studied her carefully as she fought. Fast and agile. She's good at dodging, too. Her sword moves like lightning…for every swipe he gets in, she manages two. Not too much power behind those strokes, though. She looked towards the other bandit. He stood in the doorway of the deserted yurt. He had the wall to his back, which would make it harder for Lyn to dodge him, force her to guard her strokes in case she cut the fabric. That was someone's home. Dev ran down, joining her as she defeated the first bandit, without a scratch on her. Not as much could be said for him. Dev ignored the smell of blood.
"See if you can lure him away from there. If not, I'll try to. And if he's determined not to move…you'll just have to do your best with what you have. Try and attack from his side." That'll force him to guard his strokes or get out of the doorway, in case he shatters a beam and finds himself buried. …If I'm right. I hope I'm right. Unless, of course, he's that much of an idiot, in which case I hope Lyn doesn't mind houseguests. Lyn tried to lure him out, with no success, any attempt on Dev's part ended the same way. She shrugged and motioned to the side of the bandit. Lyn went up to him.
Lyn rushed him from the side, as Dev had suggested, and got in two good hits. The bandit attacked, bringing his axe in a wide arc, aiming for her middle. Lyn jumped back and parried with her sword, slicing his axe arm and receiving a jar to her own arm. She managed to keep hold of her sword, but let her concentration slip. The bandit reversed his stroke, lowering it in a sweeping move, trying to take Lyn's feet–literally–out from under her.
"Lyn!" Dev shouted. "Jump! Now!" She was taking a chance that Lyn would be able to jump high enough, but it seemed small. Lyn heard her, saw the axe, and jumped, not only clearing the axe, but bringing one foot down on the blade. The bandit staggered with the sudden weight, enough of a distraction to allow Lyn to slice through a wide portion of his neck, even though the axe's movement had thrown her off balance. From the blood that spilled out and the limp way he fell, it had been a fatal stroke. Dev sagged with relief. She'd almost thought she'd sent the Sacaen to her death, for a moment. Several moments, for that matter. Lyn seemed to have no such doubts in her.
"That's all of them, and Key is fine! Did I worry you? Sorry if I did." No, Lyn. I worried myself, there…I don't know what I was thinking, bringing this back into my life…Dev shook her head, still somewhat stunned. "You were very good. Where did you learn that?" Ah hell, there was that question.
"Ah, here and there. Mostly out of books, although I've worked with… mercenaries, a few times. It's mostly theory. I'm…new." Plausible? Very. Convincing? From Lyn's face, no, but she was not telling the truth on this count. Telling the truth would more than likely mean going back. That was one thing she was not doing.
Lyn was frowning. She looked up at Dev, seemed about to say something, and stopped, continuing to her home. Dev yawned as they walked up to the door.
"Are you tired? You shouldn't have pushed yourself like that. You should get inside and rest." Lyn let Dev go inside first, closing the tentflap after them. Lyn replaced her sword in its corner, Dev hung her cloak and bag back on her staff before resting it in the same corner. Double duty as a coat rack, she thought wearily. Not worth its salt as a weapon…'course, I'm not worth my own salt as a fighter anyway, so it doesn't really matter. Lyn pointed to the bed.
"You should get some sleep. Take the bed for tonight," she told Dev, who shook her head.
"I can't take your bed. I've already taken your food and time, and–" Lyn pushed her into the bed. Dev yelled in surprise and looked up, glaring at Lyn.
"You are tired. You are taking the bed. I will wake you up in the morning." Dev started to argue, then sighed and smiled.
"Yes, ma'am." She took off her outer tunic, and lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She saw the remains of the bread, cheese and meat from before, and began chewing on it as she thought. What would she do now? Find out her position from Lyn, and then…on to Lycia, she supposed. …How the heck was she going to get by in Lycia, anyway? She had one talent and she couldn't stand it. What would she do? She couldn't play a musical instrument or dance, she was too restless to take a job in a castle or inn, she couldn't cook, couldn't clean very well (as her cloak showed), couldn't do a lot of things that earned money...
……………………
Without meaning to, she dozed off, thinking of possible ways to make a living in Lycia. True to her word, Lyn woke her up the next morning.
"Good morning, Dev! Do you want some porridge? It's all I've really got for breakfast. Here you go. It has dried fruit in it, and honey." Dried fruit and honey, nice. Normally she wouldn't have touched porridge–it had no taste or texture whatsoever–but with the addition of the fruit and honey, it was quite good, and Lyn's was thick and creamy. Not that runny goop hers always seemed to turn into. She gulped down one bowl and asked if there was more. Lyn nodded, refilled her bowl, and settled back down to her own breakfast. She was very quiet; from what little Dev knew of Lyn, this was odd.
"Um, Lyn? Is something on your mind? You're very quiet today," she said, finishing her second bowl. Lyn looked up, startled, and bit her lip.
"Yes…I wanted to ask a favor of you." She fingered the handle of her spoon before meeting Dev's eyes and speaking. "I can see that you have experience in the ways of war, so–" You can see that? You have better eyes than me, Lyn. "–I wondered… I want to ask you if I can accompany you. Please, bring me with you on your travels." Dev stared at her. She'd infected poor Lyn with her own insanity. She searched desperately for a way out, and without thinking, asked:
"Well, uh, if, er…If your parents say it's alright…" The instant she'd said it, she regretted it. Had she forgotten those ruins so quickly? A flicker of pain crossed Lyn's face, and Dev's conscience pricked her harder.
"My parents…have been dead these six months," Lyn said quietly. "My people, the Lorca, they don't…I'm all that's left. Bandits attacked, and they killed so many people…Afterwards, the tribe…what was left…scattered. My father was the chieftain, and I tried to lead, but our people were old-fashioned. They wouldn't follow a woman. No-one would follow me." She looked down and wiped her cheek.
"Lyn…I'm sorry…" Dev said, uncertain of what to do. Why had she said that; what had she been thinking?
"No, it's alright. I'm sorry for this, it's just that I've-- I've been alone for so long…" She closed her eyes. "No. I will shed no more tears." She was silent for a while, and Dev respected her desire for quiet.
Alone. Huh. She knew what that felt like. Hadn't she been alone for over two years now? A companion wouldn't be an entirely bad thing. It would shorten the miles on her trip, and fill the silence of the road. It would mean an end to being alone, for both of them, for a time, at least.
"Thank you," Lyn said, snapping Dev out of her reverie. "I'm sorry I broke down like that." Dev was amused, despite the gravity in the air; she called that breaking down? That was a crack compared to some people she'd known. "Dev, yesterday taught me something. I will not get any stronger by staying here. Please bring me with you, so that I can become stronger, and avenge the deaths of my people!" And then there was this side of the situation; Lyn expected her to continue in the capacity of a tactician.
She did not want to; she'd left it behind her, in the past. Bringing it back now was, it was like probing an open wound, to see just how painful you could make it. Every thought on deployment and tactics brought back memories she'd be happier to believe she'd forgotten. Memories of those she'd trusted, even loved, and of the times she'd failed them. Then again, Lyn only wanted to train and become stronger. Nothing horrible would happen, right?
"Well, in that case, it's-- It's okay. Sure you can come." She invited Lyn along with a smile that was largely forced. Hopefully, Lyn wouldn't notice.
She didn't. A grin spread across her face, and she began packing that instant, pulling a bag, clothes, food and everything else they might have needed seemingly out of nowhere. "Really? Thank you! I know, together we can become the best that ever lived!" She gripped Dev's hand with an enthusiasm that left Dev speechless. "I'll be your peerless warrior, and you'll be my master strategist! Right?" She threw a whetstone perilously close to Dev's head; only Dev's reflexes saved her head.
"Huh? Well, uhm… yeah, I–" Lyn was too excited to pay much attention to her response, luckily. Master strategist? Oh boy. She was in over her head. Fathoms over her head, by her estimate.
She got herself another bowl of porridge. It was going to be a long day.
……………………………
Okay. Welcome to the story if you've just begun reading it. Hope you've found it to your liking-- at this time (as I write these revised A/N,) there are four more chapters, leading up to the point where the group leaves Araphen. If you wish, read on. I will be deviating from the plot of the game in places, and not every battle will be dramatized entirely.
Certain characters will get extra attention, namely Dev, Lyn, Eliwood and Hector, Sain and Kent, Rath, Heath, Ninian and Nils, Erk, Serra, Nino, Canas, Raven, Matthew, Wil, Dart, Lloyd, Linus, Uhai, Ephidel (on request), and... the list is around here somewhere, I know it. Those aren't the only ones, anyway. I don't mind people asking for attention to certain characters.
If, for some reason, when I said I was revamping these chapters you decided to re-read them, uh... Guys, it took me approximately 5 minutes. I took out one bit (about her bag), added in another bit (about the knights) tweaked the grammar and punctuation, and decided to be anal about the difference between a strategist and a tactician. (There is a difference, yes, and I take these differences between words very seriously when I'm in the mood to do so.)
So... that's about it. Reviews are always greatly appreciated.
