I've wanted to write something for this site for a while, and I finally had a great idea in pre-Sword of Seals. The grammar shouldn't be as awful as some grammar I've seen, but don't expect perfection. Anyway, I don't own Fire Emblem or it's characters in any way, shape, or form. Read and review, please. :)

Ancient Lycia

The boy stood among the charred remains of his village, tears rolling down his soot-covered cheeks. The dragon attack had come so suddenly, without any warning. He had seen the wooden huts ignite as streams of fire issued from the beast's gaping maw. Five of the village's young men, including his father, had attacked the winged monster in a vain attempt to drive it away. Two of them had been too slow to avoid the fire. They had been alive one second and then dead the next, as the fire engulfed them and turned them to ash. The dragon's tail had whipped around, as thick as a tree trunk but as fast as any whip, the tail spikes smashing through the bones of two others. Their fractured skeletons, no longer able to support their bodies, had fallen to the ground in broken heaps.

His father had stood valiantly before the dragon, alone, with no hope of victory. Suddenly, the dragon roared in pain as the lone defender drove his broadsword through a gap in the hardened scales, forcing it deep into the soft flesh beneath. The tortured shriek was a horrible sound, resonating throughout the night air. The man had smiled in a sort of weak triumph. But his victory was cut short when the creature lashed out with its foreleg, sending him flying twenty feet backward. His broken body lay unmoving in the grass as the dragon, bellowing in pain, took to the air. The steady beating of its scaly wings and its ear-shattering screams faded as its silhouette drew further and further away. The boy rose to his feet, fists clenched. I'll make them pay, Dad, he swore. I'll make them pay. Little distinguishes this story from the hundreds of other tales of dragon raids across the continent. Only one detail marks it important. The boy's name was Roland.

Ten Years Later…

Roland swung the heavy broadsword easily in a wide arc, testing the weight and balance of the weapon.

"It's great," he told the armory storekeeper. "How much?"

"Nine hundred and eighty gold," the massively built blacksmith informed him. "You can pay?"

The young warrior pulled a pouch filled with gold coins from his belt and tossed it to him. "Keep the change," he instructed the smith as he exited the armory. Outside, the cool breeze greeted him and set his cloak flapping in the wind. Suddenly, Roland's peace was disturbed by a high-pitched scream. A cry for help, he corrected himself. Without a moment of hesitation, he broke into a run in the direction from which the scream had come, sword hand on the hilt of his broadsword.

The young swordsman arrived in a forest clearing occupied by a most disquieting scene. A rough looking man had pinned to a tree one of the most beautiful young women Roland had seen in his life. Her luxurious blond hair hung down to her waist and she was garbed in a extravagant purple and white dress. At the moment though, she looked quite distressed. An ugly bruise was prominent on her right cheek, and the shameful expression on her face told Roland that the man had done some rather unpleasant things to her before Roland's arrival. Tears ran down the girl's cheeks as the man secured her lips in an unwilling kiss, defiling her mouth with his filthy tongue. Roland could watch no longer as the scene unfolded in front of him.

"Let her go!" he shouted, drawing his new sword and allowing the whisper of sword on scabbard to ring throughout the wooded clearing.

The man whirled around, his bearded face contorted in anger. The girl's eyes glanced up and hope filled her teary eyes. She smiled at Roland, and then was sent wheeling as the roughneck struck her across the face.

"See what you've done?" he snarled. "This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't made so much noise, you little…"

He trailed off as his simplistic mind registered the more imminent problem of Roland and his broadsword. His limited imagination took the direct solution. He charged. Roland sidestepped the clumsy axe strike contemptuously as he realized the man was drunk. He dodged another overhead swing and swept the roughneck's legs out from under him. As the axe fighter rose uneasily to his feet, Roland smashed the heavy hilt of the broadsword twice against the man's temple, rendering him unconscious. Satisfied with his handiwork, Roland turned back to the girl he had rescued. She smiled that beautiful smile again at him, and he managed one back.

"T-thank you." It was barely audible as a whisper, but Roland heard it.

"My pleasure," he responded. "I'm Roland, by the way. It's not like I could just sit back and let him do…that to you."

"Elimine," she told him. "I-it's my name. Watch out!"

This last sentence was issued as a warning to Roland as a shadow loomed over him and an axe was cocked back for a skull-splitting blow. The girl now surprised Roland as her eyelids fluttered shut and she spoke a few words in the ancient tongue. A flash of light struck the troublemaker square between the eyes and sent him staggering back. Roland reached for his broadsword, but three subsequent bursts of light magic blew the man twenty feet backward into the solid trunk of a tree. Roland's eyebrows arched in confusion.

"Why didn't you do that when he first attacked you?"

"He's my father! she exclaimed. I couldn't do that to him just because he threatened me! But he was going to kill you!"

Roland snorted, dismissing her logic as hogwash. "So, what you're saying is that assaulting a adolescent girl is not as bad as attacking a armed swordfighter?"

Elimine shrugged helplessly. "Well, not exactly…but…"

Roland cut her off. "No. There is something much worse about what your father did to you. I think that you probably did the world a favor. So personally, I say you should get away from here for a little while. Come with me, before Ugly wakes up."

Elimine's blond head snapped up at his last statement. In truth, she was very interested in the handsome young man and his obvious weapon skill. "I could always use a gallant young knight to protect me from roadside bandits and the like. Where would we be going together?" She placed extra emphasis on this last word, giving him an obvious impression of her feelings toward him.

"I don't know," replied Roland, "I've always been partial to the Sacae plains."

Well, what do you think? Personally, I like it, but I'm inclined to be biased. Who do you think we'll see next? Hint, hint, SACAE.

Fixed the paragraph breaks. :) Better?