Youth

This story is rated T for violence; it's nothing worse than anything in-game, which is itself rated T.

"All right," my Pop said, standing back from the tea plant and tying up the bag. "I think this'll be enough tea leaves to last us a good while, even with Maribelle's obsession with tea."

I nodded silently.

Pop looked at me oddly. More animatedly, he said, "Isn't picking tea leaves so fun?"

I looked back at him blankly.

"Brady, what's wrong?" Pop asked, kneeling slightly to look at me at eye level. "You normally talk a lot more than you did today."

I frowned for a moment before blurting out, "Pop, I wanna join the Shepherds."

Pop took a surprised step back and lifted his pointed hat to run his hand through his red hair. He frowned before starting to pace back and forth in front of the tea plants.

"C'mon, Pop," I said. "Cordelia an' Donnel are lettin' Severa go and join the Shepherds. Can't you and Ma let me go with her?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. Finally, when he opened them, he told me, "Brady, I guess we always knew you were going to want to do this. The you from the alternate future was a priest in the service of Lucina. But I mean, he was… older than you."

I blinked. "Pop, I'm thirteen, the same age you were when ya joined the Shepherds. You said ya hated bein' treated like a child all the time. Ain't that what yer doin' to me now?"

He gave a nervous chuckle. "I suppose you got me there. But still, I was a mage, not a priest. You can't defend yourself if you're attacked—and you can't even use your staff on yourself if you get injured." He gestured at the Heal staff that I clutched in my hands.

"Yer sayin' Lissa was useless to the Shepherds b'fore she learned how to use tomes?"

Pop made a kind of noise. "I mean, well, we always had to keep her as far away from the enemy as we could. …But don't tell her I said she was useless, OK?" He smiled at me, trying to distract me, I could tell, but I ignored it.

"Only if ya let me join the Shepherds," I insisted.

He sighed. "I don't know." Pop stood for a moment longer, staring at me. "It's just that… I feel like I'm going to lose you. And unlike the future Brady, since we're not in a war, you don't even need to take the risk of joining the army." He gave me a sad smile that made me feel slightly guilty about wanting to abandon him. Still, this was my goal—I had to live up to the standards that the future me set.

Pop took a deep breath and said, "Well, let's get these leaves back to your mother. We'll ask her about this whole Shepherd thing, as well."

He put a strong arm around my shoulders and guided me towards the castle, where Ma and Pop and I resided.

We walked this way a little ways without speaking. Finally fed up with the awkward silence, I said tentatively, "Uh… Pop, I… I don't mean to cause you and Ma grief, but…"

"No, it's all right, Brady," Pop said. "I know you mean no harm to us. Truth be told, I guess we always knew that you'd want to join the Shepherds eventually. The other Brady did, and he and you are the same person—"

"'Cept that he's even older than you," I pointed out.

"But that's irrelevant. You two are pretty much the same. I mean, you joined the priesthood by your own volition, just as he did!"

That much was true, but before I could respond, the bushes we were passing rustled a little bit, and a band brigands popped out, wielding a variety of weapons.

Pop was immediately in a battle stance, carefully laying the bag of tea leaves on the ground and taking out his Elwind tome and a coil of rope from his bag. One of the brigands—seemingly the leader—stepped forwards and laughed menacingly. "Hah! If it isn't the magistrate's little husband and son. I'm sure even the unyielding sentencer of doom would pay a high ransom if she were to find out that her dear Ricken and Brady were kidnapped."

"Whom're you calling little?" Pop yelled out. "I'm nearly six and a half feet tall, now!" I blinked at him. That was the part of the brigand's speech that he was upset about?

The brigand leader smirked at Pop's outburst. "I had heard that the great mage Ricken was sensitive about his height, but that reaction was far more amusing than I thought it would be. I might just take you hostage just to tease you about being short." He raised his steel sword and pointed it straight at Pop. "Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

Pop frowned at the brigand leader, expression suddenly changing from animatedly insulted to deadly serious. In a low voice, he said, "I would agree, but Maribelle would just about kill me if I slaughtered another band of brigands without bringing them to a fair trial, so I guess the easy way is out. But hey, if dragging the lot of you back to the castle will please my wife, I'll gladly take the slightly harder way."

"So you think we're easy pickings, huh?" the brigand asked with a smirk.

Pop held the brigand's gaze for a moment. Then, quickly raising the green tome in his hand, he blasted out green-tinged air at the brigand leader. The brigand leader was knocked off his feet, and Pop pounced on him, binding his hands and feet with rope from his bag.

"Yes, I do think so," Pop said, throwing aside the brigand leader's sword.

The other brigands immediately swarmed him as I watched from a distance in fear. Pop was strong and all, but could he really take a beating from a good dozen bandits swinging sharp objects at him? I wanted to step in and help him, but I couldn't help fight off the brigands, and I would be far too close to the brigands if I tried to get close enough to heal him.

Instead, I waited for a tense moment before realizing that the crowd of brigands was thinning. Pop was overpowering them with his Elwind tome and rope. In another blink of an eye, all but one axe-wielder and one swordsman were all incapacitated, lying facedown in the dirt. The two remaining brigands started to back away cautiously from the red-haired mage with a murderous glint in his eyes. Pop was barely injured at all, despite having taken on all those brigands.

The swordsman and the axe-wielder looked at each other, unsure of what to do. The swordsman grimaced in defeat before turning back towards Pop and hurling his sword as hard as he could towards the mage. Pop flinched before casting an Elwind spell that knocked the flying sword out of the air.

But as he did so, the axe-wielder suddenly looked back at me, the expression he wore sending chills down my spine. What was he planning?

Pop tied up the now-weaponless swordsman, but the axe-wielding fighter suddenly ran at me. Eyes wide, I tried to run away, but I tripped over my own Heal staff. Why in Naga's name were staves so awkwardly large?

The brigand grabbed my sleeves of my priest's outfit and hauled me to my feet. I struggled against him, futilely kicking him and stabbing him with my staff, until I felt the cold bite of his steel axe against my neck.

My heart dropped. I was going to die here, before even joining the Shepherds. If I couldn't even survive a fight against a few brigands, then I would be far too useless if I did join the Shepherds. I closed my eyes in defeat.

To my surprise, the brigand did not kill me, but instead whirled me around to face Pop, who had his Elwind tome raised, about to fire out another blast of wind. But upon seeing me held captive, he stopped.

The brigand gave an evil chuckle. "Hah, Ricken, you're powerless! Even if you are one of the strongest mages in Ylisse, you can do nothing against me if you want your son to live."

Pop looked at me helplessly, and at that point, my hope for living was shot dead. As much as he had been looked down upon when he first joined the Shepherds a good two decades ago, he and Ma had always been the strongest people in my life. If Pop couldn't do anything to save me, then no one could. I was as good as dead.

"Place your tome down on the ground and kick it towards me," the brigand instructed. With shaking hands, Pop did so. "Now, I want you to untie all of my teammates, and let them have their weapons."

Pop didn't move for a moment, so the brigand started to dig his axe into my neck a little bit. "Now, little Ricky," the brigand commanded sternly.

The cut that formed on my neck stung like the dickens, and tears formed in my eyes as I clenched my Heal staff tightly. I heard Pop shuffling reluctantly towards the bound brigands.

"What's wrong, priest?" I heard the brigand whisper in my ear. "Are you such a crybaby that a little wound like this makes you bawl?"

I would've snapped at him if I could speak, but with the axe at my neck, I couldn't move at all without feeling a sharper pain. Really, why couldn't I heal my own neck wound with my staff? I could only heal other people, but Pop wasn't wounded—and even if he were, it wouldn't help to heal him. It wasn't physical injury that prevented him from rescuing me from the brigand. And… what, I was going to heal the brigand who was holding me captive? That would just be stupid. No one would ever heal the enemy.

But then again…

I opened my eyes and saw that Pop was about halfway done untying the other brigands, who had their weapons at the ready, but stood back nervously from him, afraid of his power. Hopefully he'd notice me while I executed my plan.

I mentally steeled myself, but tried to show no outward signs of anything. Then, I closed my eyes and, ignoring the pain in my neck, started to channel my magic through the staff in my hands. The orb at the tip of the staff started to emit a soft blue light.

"Hey, what are you doing?" the brigand holding me yelled. "Stop doing tha…" He trailed off as he started to feel the effects of my heal staff, the bruises I had given him in my struggles fading. His grip slackened in surprise.

As soon as I felt him release my clothing, I shoved his arms away with all my might. He stumbled only slightly, but it was enough for me to duck out from his grasp.

"Hey, Pop!" I yelled out. "I'm free!"

He turned around at my voice as I started to run for my life from the brigands who were now unbound. This time, I was careful to avoid tripping over my staff while I ran.

Pop was at my side in an instant with his Elwind tome from the ground, putting himself between me and the brigands. "Don't worry; I'll protect you," he told me with a small smile, turning towards the half-dozen brigands who were charging at us. "Just watch me go."

With a great yell, he let loose a great blast of wind, anger fueling his magic. The wind ripped apart the very tome that created it, its torn pages flying into the faces of the brigands. Pop leaped upon them, and before they had even recovered from the wind blast, he had all of them tied down.

He flipped one over—the axe-wielder who had held me captive.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you right now," Pop growled angrily.

The brigand squirmed under his gaze. "Your wife would be upset?"

"I very much doubt that, considering what you were about to do to our son."

"…You don't have a weapon to kill me with?"

Pop looked around and grabbed a discarded sword from the ground. He pointed it towards the brigand's nose. "Just because I'm a mage doesn't mean I don't know how to use swords. I'm trained as a dark knight, after all."

The brigand's face fell. "I… I have a wife and kids who would be sad if you killed me."

Pop adopted an unreadable expression. "You didn't think I or Maribelle would've been sad if you killed Brady?"

The brigand just closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Lord Ricken," he said in a trembling voice.

Pop frowned for a moment, hesitating. Finally, he growled, "This is gonna hurt."

With that, he plunged the steel sword into the brigand's abdomen before drawing it back out again. The brigand screamed and squirmed as his wound started to bleed, leaving a bright red trail on the dirt path.

I stared in horror. My own father just killed that man, after he said that he had a family who would mourn his death.

I ran over to them. "Pop, what was that?"

He just shook his head regretfully, dropping the sword to the ground. "I haven't had to kill in such a long time. But… he threatened you. I mean, your neck is bleeding, even now. Hand me your staff and let me heal you; I'm pretty sure I still remember my training as a sage."

I looked down at the magic item in my hand. Suddenly, looking back at the brigand on the ground, bleeding profusely but still alive, I realized that I could save him—I had a medical staff in my hand that could close up the wound.

"Wait, Pop," I said. "There's some'n' I gotta do."

Before I saw his response, I turned to the wounded brigand, and for the second time today, I raised my staff and channeled my magic through it towards this brigand.

I watched him as I concentrated on closing up the battle wounds. Slowly, skin reformed across the hole in the man's stomach, and his breathing became more regular. He had fallen unconscious in the process, but he was still alive.

I looked up at Pop. "All right, his wound's all closed up. He oughta be fine, now."

He looked at me a little oddly for a moment before sighing and taking the staff. "Sorry, Brady, about that," he said. "I… Henry's rubbing off on me. I'm taking death too lightly." He held up the staff, and my neck wound closed up, perfectly healed. He looked at me. "I'm really proud of you, Brady, for having the heart to heal even the person who threatened to kill you. At least you're not old and jaded yet. I… I think you definitely have a place in the Shepherds. People may call you scary-looking, but I bet if you'll be the most kind-hearted of the Shepherds, the heart of their whole group."

"Pop, ya really think…?" I trailed off, tears welling up in my eyes. He was praising me so sincerely! No longer able to hold them back, I hugged him and sobbed into his cloak. "Thank you so much, Father," I said, making an effort to speak properly. He patted my head and accepted my embrace.

A voice broke us out of our trance. "Come on, you're just going to leave us lying here facedown while that crybaby of a son sobs into your robes? Just get us to your wife and let it be over with!"

"Can it!" I snapped at the brigand who spoke out. "Can't ya see we're tryin' to have a sentimental moment here?"

That shut him up. I turned back to Pop.

But Pop stepped back from me now. "Still, Brady, it's true that we ought to get back to the castle. We still have to deliver the tea leaves to Maribelle, and to tell her about our decision to let you join the Shepherds. If she doesn't agree… well, too bad, you still have my full support." He bent over and grabbed the bag of tea leaves off the ground. Somehow, they had managed to completely stay intact. "Still, I have no doubt that after your show of courage and strength and kindheartedness today, she'll have no issues with your joining the Shepherds."

Author's note: Ricken is kind of seen as a bad unit in terms of attacking power and ability, and he is looked down on in-story, but he was one of my major units in my playthrough—and was the first one I maxed out all stats on. Therefore, in my version of the future, Ricken is an extremely competent battler. And he grew taller, just to indulge his wishes. Of course, I am a little nervous that I might have made him a Marty Stu—hopefully I didn't, but please tell me if I did.

In my playthrough, I did, in fact, marry him to Maribelle (and Cordelia to Donny), but I thought it was especially appropriate for a strong battler to be paired with a non-attacker, and of the second generation, only Brady cannot attack (in his initial class).

Aside from all this, I'd like to note that this story is the fanfic that I have rewritten the most number of times. The initial premise was just a look into the future, where Ricken is looked up to as a battler instead of looked down upon. At first, two twin original characters (one mercenary and one priest) joined the Shepherds, and Ricken (as a dark knight) has taken over from Frederick the job of training the recruits. Then, I changed it to having an actual battle against brigands attacking Donny's hometown, with Donny and Ricken just kind of toying with the brigands as the new recruits struggled to actually attack them. Then, I changed the characters, and the priest became Brady while the mercenary became Severa (and Cordelia joined Donny and Ricken). Finally, I decided that I would just focus on Ricken and his son, Brady, and changed the situation entirely to just collecting tea leaves. After a few revisions, it became what you see here. According to Word, these alternate versions (including this final one) have a total final word count of nearly 10,000.

A final note: I want to give credit for the idea behind the resolution of the battle (a character healing the enemy to surprise him), since a similar situation occurs in a book I've read. However, it would spoil the ending, so I won't say outright which book it was. If you really want to know which book it is, send me a private message.

Published December 8, 2013