Welcome to my first story (sort of), Growing Shadows. I hope you enjoy what I have to offer. I am very open to criticism, as long as it is constructive. Posting things like "You suck" and "Go die in a tar pit" won't make my writing any better. And a note on a problem I have: I tend to plan out the beginning and end of a story, and completely skip planning the middle during the brainstorm. Any tips at all are appreciated. On a side note for future reference, the Avatar's name is Rob and his description is:

Build:1

Face:2

Hair:5

Color:13

Voice:1

With that out of the way lets move on to the story.


Time moves on, but feelings don't. And for six months, Chrom has felt the same way. Felt like he needed to find him. For six months, he had sent search parties out. Worn the patrols out with the never ending task of finding him. But, for all the time spent searching, all the worry, and the doubt, and the anger, the outcome was the same. Rob could not be found.

Sitting at his desk, the king of Ylisse mindlessly sifted through his papers, signing that bill, replying to that letter, reading that report. So was the task of being a leader. To be honest, this was how Chrom always went a bout his work. He would much rather be doing something physical, than be cooped up in his office, doing paperwork. But, unfortunately his position left him with little choice. A country didn't run itself.

And so it was a surprise when he heard a knocking on the door, a rare sight since the king preferred not to be given more dreary news while doing all his mundane paperwork.

Nevertheless, he answered with a simple "Come in," before turning back to the ever growing pile of text on the table.

It surprised him that the one at the door was the old knight commander, Frederick, who had been terribly wounded at the start of the Valmese crisis. Although he couldn't fight any longer, he still instructed new troops, and Chrom had kept him around as an advisor.

"Milord," said the retired knight, formally addressing Chrom as always. "One of Cordelia's patrols has brought back dire news."

Chrom, who had, up until that moment been more or less focused on the plea to get some bridge built that he was reading, immediately jumped turned his attention to Frederick waiting for more news.

"It seems as though there is trouble at a very important religious sanctuary a short way to the north. Cordelia says the patrol saw thirteen cloaked soldiers launching an attack at the temple."

"Can the guards stationed at the sanctuary not defend it against only thirteen opponents?" asked the blue haired king. "I know for a fact that the temples have armed guards in case of bandits."

Frederick's expression remained dour. "I fear not milord. If the patrol is to be believed, these are not any bandits, but trained warriors with skill beyond what a simple temple guard could manage."

Chrom didn't even think before giving the order. "Mobilize the shepards who remain. I want to be ready to get moving in thirty minutes." With that he leaped out of his chair and bounded out the door, barely even remembering to grab Falchion on the way out. "Oh, and Frederick one last thing."

"Yes milord?"

"Do me a favor and sort out those papers on my desk." And so Chrom left Frederick there, with the knight once again having to fix his lord's mess, albeit in a different way.


P.S.- Don't forget to review. It really helps more than you would think.