Hey all, been a bit. I know there was a select bit of people who were reading the start-up of my previous story, but certain life events got in the way. Ya know, the standard college expedition, breakup, all the standard excuses you've heard from author to author so far. Just lettin' ya know that's canned, but I may start a rewrite at some point. I had a bit written out, but it was total trash by the writing I have now. Anyway, hope you'll enjoy the story I've thrown together for ya'll, and I intend to actually get a chapter out every now and then. To promise consistent updates would be a death sentence, so instead I'll just let you all sit in suspense every now and then until I get my rear in gear. Big thing though, leave a review if you can, however small. Gives me an incentive to write faster.
Anyway, Bitsar signing out, have a great one!
A New Past
"Milady, may I know why you are exposing yourself to danger so openly?"
Lissa groaned as she pushed herself off the cozy ground. She rubbed her eyes as she glared as well as she could for being half awake at the overbearing knight. It would be Frederick to interrupt a well-deserved nap. She thought bitterly.
"I thought I deserved a nice nap!" she answered brightly. "I played 3 pranks in 30 minutes, which takes a lot out of a gal!"
"I know about the pranks milady, the frog in my suit was a wonderful way to alert me." Frederick answered tensely, narrowing his eyes at the culprit. She giggled in response before working her legs to get up and dusting off her dress. Chrom appeared behind Frederick, sporting his trademark battle armor. He looked at Lissa with an amused expression once he saw Frederick's once-again annoyed expression. Chrom patted her on the shoulder and beckoned her to start walking back to the town.
"I'm guessing you ran from your lessons once again?" He chuckled, earning a deeper frown from Frederick. Lissa nodded vigorously and grinned happily towards her brother. He laughed louder and they all started walking towards the town. "I wouldn't recommend doing that considering how delicate you are." He jabbed teasingly, earning him a punch in the arm.
"I am not delicate!" She countered, glowering at her brother who was laughing while rubbing his arm. "I'll have you know I've been working tirelessly on my healing!"
"Tirelessly? Weren't you just napping in a field?" Chrom responded, still chuckling.
"…Almost tirelessly."
"Milady, yesterday you asked me to hide you in a suit of armor so you wouldn't have to attend your healing lessons." Frederick had the faintest hint of a smile on his face as Lissa started mumbling about how annoying he was.
The group walked silently through the field, Chrom and Lissa adamantly talked throughout the rest of the journey. Frederick tailed behind them, only moving ahead when a pebble threatened his lord during his walk. How his lord could be so oblivious to the eminent danger was beyond him, but serving his lord was a joy that could not be rivaled. Unless he was starting fires of course, but no one knew that. He looked forward towards the direction of the town with pride, but that was soon replaced with a feeling of dread. The direction of the town had smoke rising from it!
"Milord!" He snapped, drawing Chrom out of his conversation with Lissa. "The town is under attack!" Chrom's face turned pale and he kneaded the grip of his sword.
"Chrom! The town! We have to help them!" Lissa screeched, scared for everyone's lives.
"I know, I know!" Chrom barked, drawing Falchion. The sword glinted in the sunlight, begging him to save the lives of the citizens who are caught in the mess. "Frederick, grab Lissa and protect her at all costs! We have to save them." Chrom rushed towards the town on foot, Frederick and his sister in tow. Damn these brigands, I won't let our people be caught in this! Emm, you better find a way to fix this.
Not a moment too soon Chrom and his party arrived in the town to find it under siege by a band of brigands. Buildings crumbled to the fires of destruction while innocent bodies layered the streets. Chrom had to resist gagging upon seeing his people, the people he was tasked to protect dying on the floor in front of him. Lissa looked ready to cry behind him, and it tore him apart that his younger sister had to witness some of the citizens she was closest too outside of the city lying in pain in front of her.
This would be a painful task.
His eyes burned. In fact, his entire body felt aflame, as if the sweat beading off of his forehead was any indication. He couldn't open his eyes, and he could feel sand beneath him. Where was he? He tried to raise his body, but it didn't work, and he settled for trying to figure out where he was. He knew he was heavily dressed despite what he could guess his current location being a desert. He tried to remember how he got where he was, but only a void remained when he tried to reach out. He let loose a sigh, trying to will his body to work once more.
"Hey Junior, any idea who that poor sod lying on the ground is?" A tenor voice rang out. The man on the ground panicked. Voices?! Bandits, perhaps? C'mon damnit, work with me here body! The voice sounded amused though not hostile, but he couldn't take any chances. What he could only guess was his companion gave a large gasp, almost as if in pure disbelief, and then he heard a cackle. No, not just one, a chorus of cackles from just that one man, followed by a few crows chirping.
"Man, this day is awesome!" a higher voice rang out, almost in sing-song. The man seemed to be skipping in his general direction, humming along the entire way. He could hear a few pages being flipped beside his ear. The man let loose another giggle, before clearing his voice. "Heyo! Mind telling me what you're doing here?"
The man on the ground finally was able to get his eyes to open, and after briefly being assaulted by the overcast sun he was able to get a glimpse at his newcomers. A white-haired boy with a plastered smile surrounded by crows, and what he could only guess to be a ginger-haired thief judging by his dress, though it seems he cared more about stealing sweets than gold just by a quick glance at the lollipops decorating his outfit. He opened his mouth, letting loose a few coughs before he could respond, his voice hoarse. "I don't know," he answered truthfully. "My latest memory seems to be this encounter." The man grunted, bringing a hand to his banging head. The thief's eyebrows shot up, adjusting his current candy before responding himself.
"Amnesia, huh? Well hell, you must've had a hell of a ride to end up here." He responded, shooting a sympathetic glance at the man being helped up by his companion. "Mind tellin' us what your name is?"
"My…name?" The man scrunched up his face, letting loose an annoyed grunt as he shook his head at his interrogator. "I…don't know, as frustrating as that is to hear for the both of you."
"FRUSTRATING?" The other white-haired man nearly screamed, making both of the others jump. After helping the amnesiac up, he began bouncing up and down excitedly. "I can't you how happy I am!" The amnesiac tilted his head. Happy? The boy then rushed him, wrapping him a hug designed to crush a giant, making him let loose a gasp for air.
"Uh, Henry?" The thief started, wearing off the initial shock. "Care to explain to the class what the hell you're going on about?" Henry looked his direction briefly before somehow widening his smile even more. He then gestured to their new guest excitedly before clearing his throat once again. He began to open his mouth, but then let loose another fit of cackles before waving off his friend.
"Nope, I don't actually!" He announced, much to the chagrin of his two guests. "Gaius, I'll explain later. Oh man I'm so happy, I feel like my spleen could explode! Do you think that it would be messy?" Henry tilted his head at 'Gaius', almost looking like a dog being offered a treat. Gaius let loose a brief chuckle, ignoring the question and turning his head to the last unnamed one there.
"So, now that you know our names," Gaius started, fiddling with a candy wrapper before tossing it into the mounded sand below him. "Has that jogged your memory of yours at all?" Gaius crossed his arms, once again ignoring Henry, who was now muttering oddly to his birds. The robed man put an already exhausted hand to his forehead.
"Give me just one moment, I'm sure it shall come…" The man stood there and closed his eyes, as if in meditation for nearly a full minute in the awkward silence. With a hitch of his breath and a pained sigh, his shoulders slumped despite not knowing they were tensed, and opened his eyes. He allowed a tired smile to arrive on his face. "My name is Robin. As for anything else, your guess is as strong as mine at the moment. If anything do you mind letting me know where we are? I need a geospatial representation of our current location."
"You're in Plegia, about a few thousand feet from the Royal Castle in the distance." Gaius answered without a beat. Gaius flicked the candy in his mouth before continuing. "Considering that you're out cold in the desert, which I actually applaud you on, and that you have no idea where you're going, you should probably come with us." Robin gave a raised eyebrow in response.
"And I should do that because…?"
"I may be a thief, but even I can tell that you have no cash on hand. Although, that coat seems like it go for quite a bit…" Henry somehow managed to perk up even more before chiming in.
"Oh yeah!" he snapped his fingers. "That's the coat of a Plegian hierarch, or at least one of his constituents. If you present yourself as you are to the king, he might find a position for ya!" Robin glanced at his coat, seemingly taking notice of his ornate dressing for the first time. Fumbling through it, he realized it was weighted down by two items: a red tome and a small sword. Henry's grin somehow widened even more, before Robin shot them a look of confusion.
"With how I am now, meaning armed and unknowing to who I am?" Robin let out a bemused chuckle, only evolving into full-blown laughter once he noticed Henry shaking his head up and down like a figurine in the wind. This guy, no, this boy can't possibly be as dangerous as he lets on. He's so…childish. The thief on the other hand is clearly dangerous and experienced, although lax. It'd be better to go with them for the time being, at least before I find a place to stay…although one with less sand would do well. Robin put his newfound belongings away before giving a sharp nod. "Lead the way." He gestured.
Even in this giant throne room, Plegian flags standing proudly around him and the pillars ornately decorated, despite being in the position of power he was in now, he couldn't help it. Gangrel was bored. His beauty of an adviser was only so good at keeping his attention, and her strategic input hadn't been helpful, as of late. No, word came back that the bandits sent to Ylisstol were easily slaughtered by the princeling, and it only happened to inspire more hope into the citizens rather than a riot. He knew what he wanted, he repeated it every day of course. The problem is going into this war as a success, rather than a failure. Sure, he could simply declare war and get it over with. He had more military power than Ylisse after all. What was stopping him?
He knew, of course. He knew it all. The bloody war that the Ylissean king might have put them as the villains as the instigators, but word spread of why. A crusade, a religious purge upon the Grimleal. Not every Plegian were Grimleal, far from it in truth. Didn't matter who started it, the worship of Naga was far beyond Grima's influence, and sides were drawn immediately, with Plegia taking the biggest hit. Charged with reparations for a war no one there wanted, they were only surviving off of the work of the miners who kept business booming. A war where they were once again the villains with no allies would spell certain doom. A bloody end to all Ylisseans…with the hopes of a future afterward.
Gangrel's unpleasant musings were broken when his adviser stepped through the door, that sultry look on her face once again. He hated her, he knew she was plotting. He had no choice though, who else could he rely on? That dreary dark mage? No, she was smart but unwilling. She had no loyalty to speak of. Aversa was at least willing to play with the cards she was dealt with, for now. He could use that. She walked up and gave a short bow before speaking.
"My lord, our spy network comes bearing news." She announced with mock enthusiasm. Every bit of news they'd gotten recently was less than appealing. News of the farmers having a rough season, less than usual results from the "barbarians" that were sent, and defectors were all the news they'd received of recent. Depending on who was delivering the news, it could be great or catastrophic. She cleared her throat before continuing. "The ginger-haired thief, Gaius was his name? He and the scholar say they've found something that might finally be to your liking."
Gangrel sat up straight instantly. That thief was most their most competent as of recent, even among the more experienced spies. With an excited grin, he gestured them in. Aversa followed suit and waved behind her, allowing them into the chambers. Gaius walked in first, giving a chaste wave to his lord and a wink to Aversa, to which her smile turned into a sneer near instantaneously.
Following him was a familiar bed of messy white hair, his partner. The scholar was good at one thing, Gangrel reasoned, research. Despite his disturbing tendencies, even by his standards, he could pull off some truly amazing feats. In only a few short days, maybe even shorter if he had all the materials on-hand at the start. With no extent was he unwilling to go to, that Henry was able to conjure up curses, hexes, and spells previously unheard of. Although some remain untested, and some have less than satisfactory results, the many that worked were beyond understanding to the Grimleal Hierarchy's most informed mages.
What Gangrel did not recognize was the second head of white hair that followed. Looking older than both Gaius and Henry, he had an oddly refined air about him. He carried himself well, back straight and hands by his sides. Well, for the most part he was refined. The Mad King couldn't help but notice that he was glancing around the throne room with sheer curiosity, one unperturbed by ulterior motives. It was like a child's unknowingness and a soldier's training built into one person.
"Hey-o, Kingly." Gaius flicked the lollipop in his mouse, letting out a brief chuckle at the unamused look on his king's face. "Still don't like the nickname, eh? You'll get used to it. I have news though, as I'm sure you've heard from the beauty over there." He gestured with the point of a thumb to Aversa. "Thanks again, Enchantress. Looks like you're finally making yourself at home."
"I'll be at home when I've seen a knife run through your gut." She goaded. Henry's eyes lit up as soon as he heard what she said.
"Ooooh, can I be the one who does it?" He raised his hand and asked, bouncing up and down excitedly. Gangrel let loose a sigh before redirecting his attention back towards his main audience. He had to at least let this grim scholar get his energy out of the way, or he would end up ripping the tapestries off the walls with pure energy, and they take forever to put up.
"And what exactly did you bring me today?" He questioned, eyes staring at their newest addition. The man in question stepped forward and gave a formal bow, examining his interrogator. Despite his position, Gangrel knew what the man was doing; he was sizing him up. The man had absolutely no idea who his king was, and referred to him in his mind as no one of any consequences, at least not yet. It was refreshing, Gangrel thought after a moment of indignation. Groveling nobles always put a bad taste in his mouth, so this was a refresher.
"Well met." The man spoke, the deepness of his voice actually making Gangrel do a double take. "Your retainers here found me passed out not too far from this castle, although I have no recollection of how I ended up there, nor who I am for that matter." He explained, recounting the details as if he'd lived it thousands of times already. "One of them mentioned how apparently, this coat that I am wearing is of some significance? I would hope you could clarify better than Henry could, although omitting any extra mention of guts if you don't mind."
Gangrel's eyes slowly traced over the coat, before he practically vaulted out of his throne. He nearly began screaming in pure shock when he realized what the man was wearing. After a moment to process, Gangrel began to guffaw at the audacity of what was in front of him. "That coat, I know what that is! Sonny you're the protégé of a Grimleal magistrate! With that and the brand you have more power over the cult than anyone in this entire damn castle!" Gangrel continued to laugh, before he abruptly stopped and glanced back down to Robin, putting his hands on his hips and tilted to the side with a questioning look. "You…do have the brand, right brat?"
"Don't refer to me as a brat." Robin drolled briefly before shaking his head. "There's an odd brand on the back of my left hand, if that's any indication. So, where does that put me?" Robin folded his arms and stared at the king, whose jaw was practically at the floor.
He couldn't believe it, the boy had no idea how powerful he was just by word alone! Gangrel recomposed himself, and stood straight up as well. This random commoner was practically showing him up! Having him on his side, could be exceedingly useful in getting those pesky old farts to finally bend. He cracked his neck and folded his hands before giving Robin a Cheshire grin. "Boy, what is your name?"
Out of sight and out of mind, a disquieted Aversa slipped away from the grand hall, shock and anger bubbling in her chest.
Chrom ran his fingers through his hair, before throwing a very large stack of papers off of his study's desk with an enormous grunt. The room wasn't large, and rarely used due to Chrom's large aversion to doing any sort of paperwork. A large, singular window was Chrom's only mirror into the outside, significantly more interesting world. Besides that, the surprisingly clean room only housed a few bookshelves denoting war tactics throughout Ylisse's history. In fact, the only reason the bland room wasn't filled with cobwebs and dust was their stalwart retainer. While he didn't enjoy dusting as much as starting fires, he seemed to get an odd joy out of wearing the butler's apron. To each his own, he reasoned. Of course, that didn't solve his current situation of border reinforcements.
Steel boots echoing across the reinforced, marble flooring gave Chrom a pretty good idea who was approaching, as said knight entered the room with a stone cold expression, though if Chrom's double take was correct, he had a trace of a bemused smile on his face due to seeing all the papers on the floor. "Milord, you know throwing the stack onto the floor doesn't make it disappear any faster." Chrom gave him a half-hearted glare and sighed.
"No, but it makes me feel better for a modicum of a second. Why am I required to do this again?" he whined in a manner that if both were honest, wasn't befitting of a prince. Frederick simply shook his head and began to pick up the papers, shuffling them into order. He ended up placing them on a barren shelf-top next to his lord and walked passed him to open up the window.
"Well," Frederick said, returning to the door to stand guard. "The last time we had been offered an official tactician to take care of troop placements and other necessities, you head-butted him. Broke his nose, if I recall."
"He insulted Lissa and was a pompous bastard, you think I would let him get away with that?" Chrom asked, exasperated.
"No, but avoiding an assault charge only by Her Grace's apologies is always a pleasant alternative." Frederick scolded. Chrom let loose a small chuckle and got up from the chair, stretching his back with a satisfying pop. Frederick seemingly ignored the behavior and went on. "It won't get easier from here on, Milord. Our network has reported that Plegia has hired a new, mysterious tactician. He was said to best their current tactician in simulations with less than relative ease." Chrom's attention was instantly grabbed, and he had a terrified look in his eyes.
"Wait, what?" Chrom all but yelled. "They already had an advisor that was incredible, even by Gangrel's word. What in Naga's name changed?" Frederick only shook his head solemnly.
"No one knows. He's terrifying though, said to be reading a book on Feroxi tactics while besting her time and time again in the simulations. He was hired shortly after our saving of Yllistol a week ago. Perhaps Gangrel was unsatisfied with how innefective her 'barbarian' tactics have been? Surely you noticed those bandits had a Plegian accent." Chrom sat back down and slumped into his chair, the news finally hitting home and making a visible crease on his forhead.
"Damn them, the war's already at our doorstep, Emm refuses to do anything about it, and now they have a trump card?" Chrom slammed his fist into his desk, making a visible dent in the shined mahogany. "How are we going to defend our nation if they invade?!" Frederick gave his lord a pat on the back before clearing his throat.
"If I may impart some more knowledge milord, the report from our network wasn't finished." Chrom's eyebrow raised as he humored his steward.
"Oh? Enlighten me."
"It seems the new tactician is the son of an unknown Grimleal Hierarch. Despite this fact he seems to have little knowledge of anything to do with the Grimleal, or much for that matter. We don't have too much on him, but it seems he spends many hours cooped up in the royal library, or in his new quarters. He's much less an advisor than the previous one, more-so delivering paper reports. It's only speculation, but it's believed he may not be entirely with his memories." Frederick clarified. He picked up a feather duster from…god knows where, and began to dust the windowsill behind Chrom, forcing the latter to turn his chair around to see him. "He's impressive, that's for certain but he does not seem to have his heart in it."
Chrom gave a hum, thinking on the report. Perhaps they could use that against them? As much as Chrom was more brawn than brain, that even he knew, but that felt like going a bit too far. In what way could he effectively meet this tactician, extend an invitation, vet his intentions, and effectively appoint him without raising suspicion? If any point of the operation was found out, Plegia would have an immediate reason for war, and the halidom would be branded with another attempt at the Grimleal Cult. Even then, this man is supposedly a Grimleal himself, could he be trusted? There were far too many risks.
"Has this been run by Emm yet? What did she say?" Frederick nodded and shuffled briefly, pulling out some papers from what Chrom could only assume was a shirt pocket. If he remembered correct, Frederick wears a suit underneath all of that armor, Naga knows how he does it.
"According to the following documentation, she is stating that the reduction in barbarian attacks following his hiring is a boon, and we should not force our hand." Chrom rubbed his hand over the hilt of falchion, something he did whenever he found himself either worried or thinking deeply…or any emotion, for that matter. He loved the sword, truly.
"I guess that makes sense in the short-term…" Chrom muttered, letting loose a resigned sigh. "If he has reduced casualty rates and instead focused his efforts elsewhere, that's good enough for now. What has he reportedly been doing in the meantime?"
"So far, he's been focused solely on Plegian economics, and opening up sea-based trade to the continent of Valm. Perhaps unsurprisingly, he hasn't extended an invitation to Ylisse just yet."
"Wait, he's focused on economics? I thought he was their strategist? Ya know, the tactician?" Frederick gave a rare shrug in response.
"It seems that advisers have much more power in Plegian society than we'd previously realized. Regardless, we will have to wait and see how this progresses."
"Fair enough, I only hope he doesn't hold Ylisse accountable for father's mistakes…"
Robin sighed and put his quill down heavily, resting his head on the ornately decorated desk his king so graciously provided him. From amnesiac to religious symbol wasn't a transition that sat well with him, especially with the odd feeling of inherent distrust he felt toward the god. If it gave a symbol for Plegia to rally behind, he didn't mind playing the part for a time, but he feared it was quickly getting out of hand. Plegia is in a contrary state, but what do they truly want?
Robin knew what Plegia's sentiments towards Ylisse were, despite his skepticism. Half of Plegia wanted a war, half of Plegia simply wanted to be left alone for once. Regardless of what side they were on, the shared sentiment was simple: Plegia is good, Ylisse is bad, to put it simply. Not a single Ylissean, nor Plegian enjoyed what Ylisse's Demon King wrought but the truth remained that it was on the blue blood's hands. The civilians wanted Ylisse to pay, but how the dividing factor was what was crucial.
Bullion, or blood?
He could keep anger at bay with progress, which he could tell. Plegia was desperate for good news, and the furthering of trade routes and luxuries to the civilians was certainly helping people feel more comfortable while the politics began to turn murky. As much as sending a trade route request to Ylisse for food would help, he knew it was unrealistic. In what way would Plegia want fair trade from Ylisse? The war certainly wasn't fair for them.
On top of suddenly shouldering the weight of a country a week after what could honestly be considered a rebirth thanks to the lack of memories, he had his status to deal with. The mark on his hand held him accountable for that which he had no recollection of. He asked Henry, but every time he asked Henry complained about a headache, before laughing. Was Henry hiding something? Maybe not, but maybe he just didn't wish to give Robin a no out of fear of making him upset. He was protective of his close friends, it made sense. Truthfully, it annoyed him. The mark seems to have some meaning beyond status, but he couldn't remember.
And then there as the king himself…he was a madman. Clear as day. Anyone could tell that, but he had a mind still intact. Robin may have only a week's worth of memories, but he wasn't a fool. The King, Gangrel, he isn't completely in his role. Unlike Henry, he's definitely hiding something…
Robin got up and stretched, shuffling his papers to the side. "I need to go to Ylisse." He announced to no one but himself. How could he make an educated decision without being able to witness the whole picture? It would only lead to lost lives, he couldn't risk that. The question is how to get there discreetly. If he made a request to Gangrel to leave for Ylisse, he'd have his head ripped off. He had to get there instantly, but how?
Robin felt a candle flicker above his head, and he honestly felt like hitting himself. Henry was a scholar, and an amazing one at that. The question is, could he reverse engineer a rescue staff? There was a few in the inventory he perused, so the only question that remained was could it be done? Could Henry inflict some dark magic on the staff and reverse the light magic's effects? Did it even work like that? He honestly had no clue.
If that plan followed through though, he had another issue; what would he do when he get there, and how could he get back? He could probably just have Henry find someone to use the staff and bring him back, there were certainly Grimleal Clergymen who would love the honor. Who would he meet though? The Exalt? Probably the most rubbish plan you've thought of yet. Meeting with the Exalt in secret would not only be traitorous in itself, but no Ylissean in their right mind would trust a Plegian with the coat he had on now. He'd need someone so open-minded and quite truthfully, stupid, and somehow in a position of power to be able to-
Robin let loose a loud 'Ah ha!', and mentally began to congratulate himself. He heard of the Exalt's younger sibling, a young man who led a group that would run around and essentially solve any issues Ylissean civilians had, usually by force. He had a band of misfits he carried around with him, none of which are properly vetted or anything. They were just…picked up if he trusted them. Maybe they could meet? Would he even trust a plegian is the next question? If his rash behavior wasn't already worrying, it was indicative of the Demon King's youth as well.
Risks had to be taken, he supposed. He would have to run the idea by Henry and Gaius, who he's found over the course of the week they were the only two he could truly trust. True, they were quirky, but they got their jobs done, and they got them done well. Whatever his lost upbringing may have taught him in essence, it's imparted a strong sense of moral justice, one that he could already tell would lead him down a path of war. The tactical knowledge…it was there for a reason.
He was determined to find that reason, wherever it may lie.
