Description: The tales of Gerik's mercenaries, told from the perspectives of the mercenaries and their leader himself. Follow them through their humble beginnings to grand successes, and even their role in the War of the Stones.
Rating: Rated T for violence and sexual references.
Couples: As of yet, none. I plan on Gerik/Tethys and Gerik/Marisa in the future, though.
Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. End of story.

The sun was unrelenting as it beat down upon the city, bathing the tops of the buildings in hot golden light. In the dirty streets below, merchants avidly advertised their wares, lifting their products into the air for market-goers to view, and hopefully purchase. Many sold products that were agricultural in origin; fruits of all shapes, sizes, and colors filled many wicker baskets in the bazaar. Other stalls sold items of less necessity, like fine jewelry, cloth, and assorted trinkets. The hubbub that embroiled the streets was a mix of shouts, yells, and triumphant cries, as well as the general chatter of the citizens walking on the street. The choking, hot atmosphere was a bit much for most newcomers to handle.

It suited Marisa, however, just fine.

The violet-haired swordswoman made sure she did not stand out amongst the crowd as she pushed her way through, her face covered in beads of sweat, her trusty sword swinging by her side. It had been a long time since Marisa had been in a city, much less around so many people, but she found that it didn't seem too uncomfortable.

After all, she had been raised in Jehanna, the Land of the White Dunes – the land she was presently in. Her father had spent hours training her in the hot desert sands, teaching her every principle of a warrior, until she was as fine and lethal as any sword. He taught her so many things, and when she left his tutelage, she vowed to one day exceed him in skill. Thus far, her quest had been going smoothly, to say the least.

Unlike most girls, Marisa was not concentrated on appearances, on relationships, on money, or even on the future. Marisa was solely concentrated on the now – where she was and what she was doing. Her father taught her never to stray far from the path before her, and to always keep focused. Focus, he said, was a warrior's greatest weapon. Marisa had heeded his words, and thus far, they had served her well.

Thus, she ignored the sweating merchants who lifted pearl necklaces and ivory bracelets towards her, commenting on her loveliness and how it would be so well complemented by one of their pieces of jewelry. She ignored the fruit merchants who told her the wonders of their produce; how the skin of this fruit could make her skin more lustrous, how the flesh of this vegetable could keep her as keen as a knife. She refused to be influenced by these… distractions. They were distractions, and nothing more. Temptations to lead her off the path before her, as her father had always said.

She pushed past a robed woman with white-blond hair, who let out a yelp and fell to the ground. Marisa did not so much as glance at her, and continued making her way through the crowd, ignoring the woman's discomfort. That woman was in her way, and she paid the price for it. No one would distract her. No one, no matter how pathetic they were.

At last, she found the inn. She nearly passed by it; after all, its entrance was nearly blocked off by a huge crowd of people watching a fire-eater. She completely ignored the people and the fire-eater and pushed her way inside. The darkened antechamber smelt of burning incense and was just as hot as the outside; Marisa continued to ignore the heat, and made her way to the innkeeper, who stood at a post nearby.

"I would like one room for the night."

"That will be 500 gold, miss."

Marisa wordlessly handed the coins to him, staring deeply into his eyes. "I expect that I will get what I paid for."

The innkeeper nodded. "I hope you enjoy your stay at the White Sand Inn."

Marisa did not so much as nod. The quiet swordswoman promptly turned around and exited the inn, brushing past the excited crowd that encircled the fire-eater. She suddenly felt the urge to get out of the center of all this commotion, and decided to act upon it. Quickly, she proceeded down the street in the direction of the least activity. Marisa quickly identified this relatively quiet spot of the city as the slums.

The buildings here were of despicable quality, as Marisa soon learned. They resembled wooden shacks piled one on top of the other, with enough space in between each board for sunlight to shine through. Marisa slowed her pace as she walked, making sure to perceive every aspect of the surrounding environment. The slums rendered her much more vulnerable than the busy city. Who knew what sort of criminals dwelt in this awful place?

Children with dirt-streaked faces stared out at her from small windows. Sorrowful women, dressed in clothing that had once been white, slowly shuffled up and down the street. A nearby tavern called "The Greasy Loon" echoed with the raucous laughter of many men – men Marisa knew to be spending all of their money on ale. She knew these men were the husbands of the morose women and the fathers of the staring children. She knew that their addiction to the drink was the cause of the women's grimness, their children's filthiness.

If Marisa had seen this sight before her father's teachings, she would have been undoubtedly infuriated by the sight. She imagined herself busting into "The Greasy Loon" and beating sense into all of the drunken fools inside, and afterwards, ordering up a mug of ale herself, just to spite them. Now, Marisa refused to feel such righteous anger, such passion. It was not her role to be the advocate of these sorrowful people. She was a warrior.

Marisa made sure to avert her eyes to the suffering of the environment around her, and continued forward. It was not long until she was out of the slums and in a relatively decent part of the city, one she knew probably belonged to the middle class.

It was on the border between the slums and this new part of the city that Marisa noticed the boy.

Marisa realized as she finally left the slums that a young boy had been following her for quite some time. She stopped and turned to face him. The boy was quite young, probably no older than eleven or twelve. He was of fair complexion and slim physique, and wore simple, dirty wool clothes. He had a curious look in his eyes, and bore an enigmatic smile that both intrigued and annoyed Marisa. His hair was a bright pepper red color that was nearly blinding in the light of the sun.

"Hello."

He spoke softly, carefully, as if he was afraid of her reply. Even so, the smile remained upon his lips, never so much as faltering.

Marisa stood her ground, staring penetratingly at the boy, unsure of what he was trying to do. Marisa had seen many things, and experienced quite a lot, but she had never been in a situation of this kind before.

Tentatively, Marisa replied, "Who… are you?"

"My name is Ewan," the little boy explained, his smile widening. "I can see that you're a warrior. A strong one, I bet."

Marisa instinctively clutched the hilt of her sword, but did not go so far as to draw it. The boy remained calm, even at this sudden act of aggression.

"Are you challenging me?"

"No, of course not. I can just tell you're experienced. You don't resemble any warrior I've ever seen before."

"What do you mean?"

"Your stride… You walk with grace, but at the same time, a sort of disguised strength. And your eyes… They shine with a resolve I've never seen before. You fight with a purpose, a purpose that eludes me."

Marisa was dumbfounded by the child's understanding of vocabulary, and how he could tell so much from her without so much as speaking to her.

"How… do you know that?"

"I understand people better than you might think. Tethys thinks I have a knack for interpreting body language. Of course, I think she's a better master of body language than I will ever be."

"Tethys?"

"She's my older sister. She's a dancer. Maybe you've seen her before? She's really a sight to see. She's self-taught, too."

Marisa's eyes narrowed. "Kid, what are you trying to pull?"

"What?" Ewan seemed genuinely confused.

"No one has ever spoken to me so openly. Or randomly. I can't say I've ever been approached by a chatty young urchin like you before."

"I can understand why you'd call me chatty," Ewan replied, "but I'm definitely not an urchin. In fact, I'm quite the opposite."

"Really. Well, I don't really care. I have to be going."

"Where are you going?"

Marisa growled. "I don't know. Leave me alone."

"You seem agitated."

"Really? I wonder why that could be."

"That's sarcasm, right?"

"You're a sharp one."

Marisa grunted and turned away, heading down the path with stepped up ferocity, moving quicker than she previously had. As she did, she bumped into a green-haired boy, who quickly scampered off. She didn't really care, and continued moving at her heightened pace, trying as hard as she could not to turn back and see if Ewan was following her.

"Wait! Lady, I need to—"

Marisa sighed and dove into an alleyway, pressing herself against the wall. Moments later, Ewan's smiling face appeared, staring right at her.

"What are you doing in the alleyway?"

"Look, Ewan, I don't have time to deal with kids like you. I really need to—"

"I don't know your name, Lady," Ewan said, cutting her off.

"It's Marisa," Marisa explained, "but that doesn't matter."

"Marisa," Ewan softly explained, "where's your wallet?"

"What?" Marisa placed a hand on the small leather pouch that hung opposite her sword. Rather, she placed a hand on the space where her wallet formerly hung. "It's… Why, you little thief!"

Marisa angrily drew her sword, pointing it threateningly at Ewan. "Give it back, you filthy little ingrate!"

The smile, for once, vanished from Ewan's face, replaced by a look of genuine terror. "Please, Marisa, put your sword away! It wasn't me!"

"Well, if it wasn't you, who was it? Were you stalling me on the street so one of your little pickpocket friends could snatch it off me? Well, you're in for a surprise; I fight with claws, you know."

"No, I wasn't doing anything like that, Marisa! Please, let me explain."

"You have thirty seconds," Marisa explained. "And if you don't convince me within that time, I don't think I will put my blade back."

"Look. When you were running away from me, you ran into a boy with green hair. His name is Lukas, and he's the leader of a gang of petty criminals called 'the Green Angels'. They often inconspicuously steal from people; I suspect that when you bumped into Lukas, he cut your wallet straight off your belt. In fact, I don't even need to 'suspect' it; I saw it take place."

Marisa lowered her sword. She could not sense any uncertainty or fear in Ewan's voice, apart from the fear generated by her aggression. She trusted her instinct that he was not lying, and quickly breathed, "Show me to them, then."

Ewan nodded. "They hide out in an alleyway near here. I'm sure that Lukas would have rounded up the whole gang there; after all, he just stole your wallet. I'm guessing there was a sizeable sum of money in there?"

"I don't need to tell you that information."

"I see. Well, follow me."

Ewan scampered off. Marisa followed close behind, her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her sword, her lips pursed and eyes ablaze with anger. This Ewan seemed to be genuinely helping her, but she didn't exactly know why. Was there some sort of catch? What if he was leading her into a trap?

Then again, he didn't appear to be lying. Marisa had been taught to infer if someone was lying or not, and Ewan didn't display any qualities of a liar. Perhaps he was a con artist, though? That would mean he would be adept at avoiding lie detection. He did seem to be stalling her quite a bit…

Even so, a voice within her told her that Ewan meant no harm. Going against everything her father had ever taught her about strangers, Marisa followed him down the Green Angels' alleyway. It was not long before she could hear voices, and see a squabble of dirty, gruff youths, looking even more bedraggled and hardened than any of the children she had seen in the slums. They were probably in their late teens, judging by their height and their stances.

"…that stupid girl just walked right on past me! She looked like she was in a hurry, too. Just kept on walking! There's a good deal of gold in here, boys. And I'm splitting it down the middle!"

She could identify Lukas easily. He was the only gang member who was excitedly moving about, and his green hair was even more radiant than Ewan's. She got a better look at the wiry thief this time around; his face reminded her of a beetle's. He was sweating and jumpy. She knew he couldn't be a year older than seventeen. Around him, gang members grinned.

"Down the middle? Luke, there's more than two of us in the gang; you'll need to split it up more for everyone to get a share—"

"No, you don't understand, you brainless meathead! I get one half of the gold, and all of you can split the other half. After all, I was the one who stole it, unaided, and besides, I have more brains than the lot of you put together."

"Oh, okay. You're the boss."

Marisa rolled her eyes at the reply.

Ewan led her behind a nearby crate, just feet away from the triumphant Lukas and his fellow gang members. "I doubt they'll let you just run in here and take your wallet back," he whispered. "You'll probably have to fight."

Marisa growled. "Are any of them good fighters?"

"Well, Lukas certainly isn't. Let's just say his bark is worse than his bite. Some of the other gang members are good at fighting bare-handedly, though, and not a few of them are good with knives. Don't think they won't go all out just because they're kids – the Green Angels really are barbaric. They claim to have even… killed people."

"There are worse things than that," Marisa replied coldly. She then briefly examined Ewan for a second time; this time, she paid no attention to his smile or the color of his hair, but rather his physical attributes. "Can you fight, Ewan?"

Ewan paled, and his eyes dimmed.

"Um… I…"

"Can you, or can't you?"

"Well… I'm… No."

"Well then, get out. This will probably get ugly."

"Wait. I do… I sometimes practice magic… I'm not very good, though… I don't think I'll be of much help—"

"Do you have a magic book that you can use?"

"I have my Fire tome right here." Ewan drew a small red book from his pocket, and gripped it firmly in his right hand.

"Well, then, you can help me."

"I…"

"What?" Marisa asked, rather vexed now.

"I don't want to—"

"Then just leave!"

Marisa shouted this, immediately ending the triumphant calls of the Green Angels and Lukas's equally annoying victory cries.

"What was that!"

The crate was picked up by a rather large boy, who glared down at Ewan and Marisa.

"Snoops," he replied solemnly.

"Well, kill 'em." Lukas said this without much thought, as though he was a master of this sort of thing.

Marisa flew to her feet and had her sword drawn in a flash. She glared at the rowdy youths before her, who were now gripping knives and various weapons, including clubs. A rather burly one had, to Marisa's horror, drawn an axe. Lukas himself drew a silver rapier, studded with gemstones, which Marisa instantly recognized to be stolen.

"Hey, you're the woman I stole from!" Lukas snarled. His snarl was replaced with a grin as his eyes fell upon Ewan. "And look who it is, boys! It's Ewan!"

Marisa turned and looked at the young boy, whose face had paled even more so than before. He was shaking, now, and all traces of happiness had left his face. He resembled something of a ghost, and lacked everything Marisa had found striking about him, apart from his blinding red hair.

"How's our favorite little know-it-all been doing these past few days? I hope our last 'lesson' has taught you something. Hey, where's that sugary sweet sister of yours? Boy, is she fine…"

Ewan stood, quivering with fear. His lips trembled as if he were to reply, but he did not.

"Wait a moment. Has this gang been bullying you, Ewan?"

Ewan only nodded, his face bearing a sick expression.

"And still, you lead me right to them?"

Ewan nodded again.

Marisa was completely taken aback. Not only did Ewan seek to help her, but he was willing enough to go headfirst into the den of people who had, in the past, attacked him. That took courage Marisa had only seen in true warriors.

"Why do you care? What are you, his mother?" Lukas sneered. "Wait, I forgot! He doesn't have a mother. Well, I guess he technically does, but she dumped him on the streets. Along with that fine sister of his…"

"S-Shut up!" Ewan shrieked.

"Uh-oh, the little baby's lost his temper," Lukas taunted. "Let's teach him a lesson, boys!"

The gang members let out a burst of laughter, but Marisa was left unfazed. She did not so much as blink as they approached her; her resolve was as firm as steel, now. She would not let these barbaric bullies even touch her… or Ewan, for that matter.

The first gang member charged forward, a crude club in hand, shouting like a lunatic. Marisa swung her blade, catching his club on the tip of her sword. She swung it from his hands and dove towards him, impaling him through the stomach. The man let out a deep gasp and toppled to the ground. Marisa yanked her sword from out of him, leaving him gasping on the dirty pavement, and turned to face the others.

Four gang members then rose to attack her; one of them wielded the axe, while the other three wielded knives. They fell even more quickly than the first had. By this point, the others were not so quick to fight as they first had. Most noticeable was the fact that Lukas was visibly shaking, even more so than his fellow gang members.

"I believe you have something that is mine," Marisa snarled.

Lukas glanced quickly at his gang members, and then at Marisa. Marisa knew he was making the choice of surrendering her wallet and looking like a coward, or fighting until the end.

"You'll never take it from me!" Lukas cried, and lunged at her.

Marisa swiped her sword as he did so, striking him across the neck. Lukas let out a gurgling cry, pressed his hands to his neck – in doing so, he dropped his rapier – and sunk to the ground. The other gang members dashed off before Marisa could ask for further challenges.

"Where did he put my wallet?" Marisa asked nonchalantly as she bent over to inspect Lukas's motionless body. She ignored the fact that Ewan was in total shock, having fallen to his knees, his face as pale as milk. His red eyes were now a weak pink, and he was shaking furiously.

"Ewan?"

"You… You killed those people," Ewan murmured.

"What of it?"

"You killed them."

"I know; you just said that. What of it?"

"You… You killed them."

Marisa could not understand why he was so shocked.

"They threatened both of us, Ewan. I could not stand and let us be hurt just because I 'didn't want to kill them'."

Ewan nodded, slowly regaining his color. "I guess… I'm not used to it, that's all."

"That's all right. All warriors have to start at some point."

"Warrior? You think I'm a warrior?"

"Well, you certainly have the courage of one. You lead me to the den of your enemies, just so that you could help me. That takes courage I have only seen in the very bravest of warriors."

Ewan smiled a bit.

"Here it is," Marisa said, taking her wallet from out of Lukas's pocket.

That was when she heard the cry.

"What have you done to my brother!"