--Legend of the Twin Swords--
By: Kratos the Judgment
Rating: PG-13
Warning: I had thought of rating this story R, but after getting further into it, my
feelings have changed. Still, if you find, at any time, that you are uncomfortable
with the levels of violence and/or language, I encourage you to stop reading.
You have been warned and I will not accept any responsibility for what happens
as a consequence of you reading this work.
Disclaimer:
If loving counted as much as owning, all the money in the world could not rend
Fire Emblem from my cold dead fingers. However, I'm sure its creators feel the
same way. So, no, I do not own Fire Emblem or any of the related characters. I
simply wish to borrow them for a while.
Personal Notes:
This fic is based on Fire Emblem as you've probably noticed. I'm writing this
because I don't feel that the tactician has enough of a story of his own, or enough
interaction with the characters either. If you share my sentiments, I'm sure you'll
enjoy reading this.
In regards to the story, this is based on FE7. That's "Fire Emblem: Rekka no
Ken", AKA "Fire Emblem" if you're in the states and have no clue that Fire
Emblem is a series almost as long as Final Fantasy! Ok, now onto what I meant
to say. Alright, I know that those of you who have played the game have gotten
all sorts of endings from your support conversations, and I have as well. Also,
some of you may have looked up the other endings on sites like gamefaqs and
formed your own ideas on the histories of the characters. Well, as interesting as
they may be, they don't all suit my purposes exactly. So I'm going to change
things here and there, sorry to all you purists out there. Besides, where's the fun
in leaving well enough alone?
On the other hand, I have tried to make the flow of the story feel close to that of
the game. I don't know if I'll go so far as to put a battle in the middle of every
chapter, but we'll see. Also, I've included a little gimmick that I think you'll enjoy.
I won't say what it is, but by the end of this chapter, I think you'll have noticed it.
Chapter 1: A Meeting on the Plains
I am a traveler and a tactician. For years I have wandered around the
countryside and been a part of many battles: some small, others raging across
continents. Many of my memories, both good and bad, revolve around war. But
my favorite place to remember is a small house in the plains of Sacae, where I, a
complete stranger, was shown compassion by a young woman who turned out to
be a princess. Now, my memories of those times are drawing me back to the
plains to search out my wandering lady though I know not how long it will take.
Ah, memories…
Unfortunately mine are being interrupted at the moment by a band of thieves who
desire my money and my sword. My sword is my new pride. After watching so
many others fight, I decided to take up the art of the blade for myself. If these
fools think I'm going to let them lay a hand on it they are sadly mistaken. I would
like to say I could draw my sword and deftly teach them a lesson in manners;
however, these fools, as it were, outnumber me ten to one, and my prowess with
the blade is not yet good enough to stave them all off. If I could only take out
their leader, I might have a chance. My luck, however, has been notoriously poor
of late.
Negotiations have failed, and I think I must make a strategic retreat. The
problem is: they have me surrounded.
A thought hit me. There was something my mentor told me when I was just a
boy. A smaller force can win up against a larger one if it is smarter and quicker
to adapt to the situation. The larger force which depends mainly of brute force
will have difficulty coordinating itself and adjusting to the changes of the other. I
could kiss my mentor for that. Time to put his words to the test…
I sighed as if in defeat. "Fine," I told the gang, "You win." I undid the strap
holding my scabbard to my belt as my words sunk in. Expressions of glee
spread across the faces of my opponents. They let down their guard for a split
second. In a flash, I gripped both scabbard and hilt and, dashing for the leader
drew my sword in a diagonal upward arc as fast as I possibly could. Seeing my
movements, my target stepped back just in time to save his skin, mostly. I left
him with a thin line of blood trailing along his bare chest.
I must marvel at the clan who made so fine a sword. They gave it to me as
payment for services I rendered during a battle against their enemies in
Caledoniaa little over a year ago.
Back in the battle, I charged the large man in front of me, hoping to incapacitate
him with a second blow. However, he had drawn a large knife and parried my
attack. Perhaps I should make my escape while the rest are confused.
So much for that idea. One of the others had already armed himself and was
preparing to drive his weapon into my flesh. I braced myself for the shock, but it
never came. As I looked at him, I saw the shaft of an arrow protruding from his
throat.
Have I ever cursed my luck? If so, I wholeheartedly take it back. I love my luck.
As my would-be murderer fell to the ground, two young men with swords rushed
from the nearby woods, and behind them, a girl stood, notching another arrow in
her bow. I couldn't have been happier if it was the entire Pharaen army. I was
saved! Our three swords flashed among the thieves, and another man dropped
from a pierced artery. Numbers were still against us though.
Quickly the tactician in me sprang to life. I dodged back from the leader who
simply refused to go down. "Archer!" I called at the top of my lungs, "Shoot this
one!" I could have sworn I heard a snide remark on the breeze, but regardless, a
moment later, an arrow appeared and embedded itself in the side of my
opponent's thick neck. Slowly, the brute staggered after me, his knife held in a
death grip. I parried another blow, but no more, for at that moment, another shaft
pierced the man's heart and brought him to the ground.
In the ensuing bedlam, the remaining goons fell quickly.
Exhausted, I sat down on the grass and wiped the blood from my blade and the
sweat from my brow then looked at my rescuers. The three of them were
standing together and looking rather vindictive. Though tired, I rose and faced
them. Seeing me approach, the older of the two swordsmen turned and held out
his hand. "Thanks for your help" he said. There was an unsettling amount of
gravity in his voice.
"No, I should be thanking you." As I shook hands with his, I looked at his face
and realized just how young this boy really was. He couldn't have been a day
over 16. I turned to the girl. "Your help was especially welcome little lady. You
could teach a few things about archery to some friends of mine."
At the sound of my words, she turned on me. "I'm fifteen, so don't be calling me
little! Who are you to be ordering me around in battle anyway?"
I wanted to say "Ten years your senior!" but held my tongue. Instead, I replied
calmly, "Sorry. I think we've gotten off on the wrong foot here." I addressed the
group and gave them my name. "I'm a tactician."
Reviewers will be welcomed – flamers will be spammed.
Kratos