A psychologist in the army
Probably you don't know who I am. That's why I'll introduce myself. I'm Miles Stone. It happens to me in these occasions that people notice my name is similar to 'milestone', leading them to trying to make a joke out of it for being friendly, or they just don't consider it important, choosing to be cautious until someone else makes the appointment or until they get to see if my reaction was worth the comment.
It's not like what I'm about to tell you, readers, has much to do with my name, but as it is funny, I wanted to point it out… you know… to seem friendly.
Other thing quite important that you should know about me is my profession. I'm a psychologist. Folks don't know what I mean with that, given they only know the stereotype, so they nod and wait for me to continue explaining.
Being a psychologist is… special. Being a construction worker is special as well, for I wouldn't know how to start a building, but the matter is that we psychologists don't work with bricks. We study people and their conducts. Within us there are lazy sloths that prefer to take advantage of the stereotype of psychologist to have an easy and remunerated job, but that kind of people only contributes to make us look like useless dummies.
Why did I choose this career? Mainly to discover myself. There were many things I already knew, but in an unpronounceable way: I understood it, but I wasn't able to express it. That's what I wanted from psychology. That and… other reasons. Personal ones. It's a long story, that one...
And after this endless bore, poorly rewarding, I thank you for surviving this long. For it is here where I'll tell you why I ended in an army full with soldiers who fought for… well, telling you as much would mean breaking my confidence contract, but I'll trust that being slightly unclear about it will do the trick!
As you know, the continent is at war. Nohr versus Hoshido. A kingdom of glory-thirsty knights against a pacifist samurai nation. The way I described it may make us nohrians look bad, but not all in Nohr are like that. I thought it was pretty obvious, but not that many hoshidans were ready to accept that. Actually, that gave me plenty problems in my previous travel…
And you'll wonder 'why is a psychologist such as myself in a story like this?'. It's not very frequent to find within lines of knights, dark mages, guardians and swordsmen, a man of letters like me. But, luckily, my brightness -the little I have, that is- was able to win enough time for my saviors to find me. Only did I know what I was stepping into…
I hadn't had good businesses lately, really. My clients kept refusing to pay me, saying I didn't help them. How I'm I supposed to help some murderous morons to find love? If they didn't find the feeling of taking someone's life so pleasant, maybe not all women would find them that repulsive. It's lamentable that their lifestyle forced them to refuse admitting their soft hidden nature. I mean, they really wanted some love, didn't they?
But, of course, that's not something one can speak up and get away with it. Since those wrongdoers arrived to Septembria, the town hasn't been the same. The loud kick's nice atmosphere disappeared. Were I a warrior, I'd fight. And I'd die. It sucks to be a coward like me who prefers not to meet his end, but I think you'll understand me…
The thing is that those two misters that hired me for fun at first, to find true love later, and then to dump me fill with hatred, spoke bad of me to their boss. If I had been given a chance, maybe I could have helped them out a bit, but since their 'buddies' would afterward remember them how to behave in their 'domains', my efforts would be for naught.
The precocious had a terrible reputation even within outlaws. And their leader… oh, that man doesn't deserve to live, for it would be imposible to mend his ways. But, who am I to speak about justice? I'll let the soldiers make him pay for his violations, robberies and brutal murders, for I have enough bearing with my cowardice… and weakness… Besides, when I said that it was impossible for him to mend his ways, I really meant it. He has a great criminal record: even if he had a change of heart, I'm afraid society wouldn't accept him back. He has no choice but to stick to the path he followed. …
Truth is I don't know if what happened was for good or bad, but I apreciated that something changed in that hell. I'd prefer to die or to be freed rather than being under their yoke forever.
The day Freken Badbeard, The precocious's leader came for my life… well, I'll show you why I myself am a narrator:
"Where is that fuckingstone?!" Cursed the big man, asking for me. I've heard worse ways of insulting me, and that one was not particularly creative. Freken grabbed the short barman from his shirt's neck. That man had been so nice to let me pay my lodging at a later time, given my recent bad businesses. The bandit shook the barman unpleasantly, forcing him to answer.
The poor man winced in my direction with sad eyes. I sighed from my corner of the room, noticing how everyone set their eyes on me. I wasn't going to blame him, given the circumstances. What was the nice barman going to do? Keep quiet and die for me? No, thanks. I don't want that burden on my conscience, especially after being so genteelly treated by him.
I shrinked where I was, feeling the fear burying its claws deeper into my heart with each step Freken took. I hoped my white long-sleeved shirt and pale grey vest hid my back properly, but I tightened my cloak over my shoulders. I wouldn't enjoy it if he found out a secret of mine.
"So you're that psychologist my guys are complaining about, huh?" He roared to my face, shortening distances between us so much that I thought his spit would fall onto my wine. I slid the glass aside, rising my eyes to set them on his nasal septum. He head-butted me, then grabbed me from my clothes and lifted me over everyone.
I felt sick from the bump, but since the situation was so demanding, I urged to answer.
"It is I, mister Freken. It's a pleasure to meet you." I slowly nodded, offering a handshake. I knew what I was doing. It was a sacrifice to buy time. 'Time for what?' You'll ask me. Well, it's never too late to desire miracles, because if I just ran away as my legs begged me, the bandits would pick on the others, and, again, I don't want that over my conscience.
As I thought, I felt I was going to end one-armed after being squished by that beast, but I did my best to hide my pain -I was particuarlly skilled at that-. Just for the record, I don't think that's how handshakes are meant to be done, despite your strength.
"Oh, he knows how to receive blows. Nicely done, psychologist!" He congratulated me by punching my stomach. With the blow, he threw me to the wall and I loudly fell on the chair I used to be sitting on, breaking a pair of its legs in the process.
"Oh, please, I'm not worthy of such praises." I replied, coughing. "I only know that if I show weakness, you'd try to injure me as much as needed so that my face swaps into an even more affected expression." I've already been through that, so I know. "If I pretend to be as tough as I can, hey, maybe I survive this." I smiled, speaking as swiftly and fast as I could.
If he understood all my tongue-twister, good, for that'd buy me the time it takes him to process it, notice he doesn't get it, and give up trying; and if he had no problems with it, well, maybe he toys around a little bit longer, trying to see how many tricks I can pull before he ends me.
"Mmm… you're a smarty, mister psychologist. There's a riddle I never solved. Maybe you can lend me a hand." He said nicely, grabbing me by the neck and bumping me on the table. I contained my laugher, for I found his joke funny. A hand. He wasn't smiling, so I assumed he didn't do it on purpose. Dull…
"If my supposed intellect can satisfy you, I beg you to try me." I said a little harshly. My morality was beginning to weaken, since kissing his ass was ruining the following of my principles. But I had to protect my life at all costs, and I was determined to reach such extremes. I have been forced to do... much worse. Forget I said anything.
A noise was heard outside, followed by the leaving of some of the bandits that accompanied us, wielding their clubs. In my heart, a hope was born, but as soon I heard their mocking laughs, it withered out.
"What animal walks first with four legs, then with two, and ends with none?" He asked me with a terrible grin on his dumb face. Sadly, I knew the answer. Or, at least, I knew the answer to the original riddle. It seems Freken was so sadistic he even twisted the riddle to announce me he was going to break my legs.
"A butterfly?" I asked, knowing I wasn´t correct. At least, Freken took a little time, trying to recall how butterflies walked. I had to contain my giggles, for his puzzled expression was priceless. It was just too hilarious! Never mind that, I had to react, or else I would be done for.
I tried to struggle free, but his hand was tightly gripping me. I kicked him as hard as I could in his stomach, but the big guy only felt tingles. I changed my plan to stand on him and break free by streching my legs all I could, but the outlow decided he had had enough playing around. He draw a heavy-looking grey sword, placing it over my tights, as if he wanted me mess me up by informing of my imminent fate. I played desperate, which was easy, actually, but I was ready to tuck my body into a ball to avoid the blade. I wouldn't be giving up on my legs that easily, and I had a lot of tricks up my sleeve to pull before perishing. How do you think a weakling such as myself has survived this long?
A sudden explosion blasted the door into pieces, throwing splinter to the beast that was preparing to mutilate me. From the dust cloud, a pair of men made their way in. One was white-haired and had red eyes, while the other was blonde with a sumptuous dark armor. I would have gawked at their incredible appearance, but I couldn't take my eyes off Freken's blade. The white-haired guy raised a very nice looking golden sword, pointing at my aggressor.
"Surrender. You have nowhere to run." He warned, ready for combat. Behind them, a bunch of soldiers fought Freken's minions, which finally lost to a very cool grey haired cavalier, a young blue haired lady with a perturbing face, supervised by a handsome swordsman guy, eh, that was… um… dancing?
Freken grabbed me from the neck and put me between them as a way to save his ass. The blonde that kept silent brought his hand to his grimoire while sighing. His tome began sparkling purple shades, almost as though something was going to come out from its pages. Moments after, a tree grew under us, separating me from the bandit. Freken was painfully trapped between the branches, while I fell on a fluffy bed of leaves.
When I opened my eyes again, I painfully watched as the blonde mage stabbed the outlaw in the chest with a gelid sword, causing him to shriek a deadly scream. And that was my last memory from when I met them. Yeah, it's embarrassing, but combining the pain in my hand, tummy and back, while seeing Freken getting killed, took my consciousness away. Not because I haven't seen anyone get killed before, which I sadly have, but because the last time I did… well, I wished it was me who had died. It brought back some horrible memories, and to seal them away, I shut myself down as a mean to scape.
Oh, hey. So you happened to have a go with this fanfic. Well, let me tell you something. It is my believe fanfics are short, frequent and fast-paced. If you believe I am right, then do not consider this as a fanfic. You see, I tend to dwell into the character's minds a lot. I don't make that many time-skips either. When I write, I try to capture the reality of things. I said 'try', because rating my success is not something only I can do (not refering to the reviews or anything).
But yeah. If you're interested in a story that goes beyond what is told or shown in the game, maybe you find this one of your liking. I must warn you that I am not a natural English speaker, so I must too apologize in advance for any eyes-stabbing grammatical mistakes that you find.
What else is there to say...? Oh! Right. This story is actually the translation of the original version. Yeah. I kinda liked it so much that I thought it would be a waste not to translate it, and since I like writing so much, why not? Heheh!
Anyway, I hope this is the start of something you like, and if it isn't, then don't waste any more of your time. I'm a little concerned that this introduction scares people off, but hey, I may be the writer, but things went the way they had to. It's not like I'm going to beat the hell out of my OC in every chapter, mind you! *Wink, wink* *Elbow, elbow*