Ah, yes, the mandatory disclaimer that isn't really necessary. After all,
why would anybody think that a fanfiction writer in such a place owns any
rights to the game? Yet to be safe, I do not own any of the characters in
Fire Emblem, nor the rights to the game. Heck, I don't even own the rights
to the tactician in this story.
Clank! Clank! The sound of metal crashing against metal ringed in Kent's ears as he leaned against the wall of the blacksmith. He wore the corners of his mouth slightly lower than usual, making a barely visible downward crescent that could be best described as a minor scowl. Kent was unhappy; he was reliving the scene a few minutes earlier.
"I'm sorry, but I never let others know the trade," the blacksmith to whom Kent had brought the order for two new shoes for his horse told him.
"But I have no intention of setting up shop," Kent protested to no avail. A minute later, he had found himself being pushed to the door by the apprentice. He had no effort to resist. Here was another secretive tradesman unwilling to let others see him at work. In some ways, he was right in his fear, for Kent was attempting to learn by observation the methods of making shoes for his own horse.
With a sigh, Kent deprived himself of the support of the blacksmith's wall. He walked diagonally across the street to where a man and two horses were waiting. The man's head was pressed near one of the horse's saddle, and his hands were fingering around it. In a moment, he untied the saddle from the back of the horse and sat on the ground, saddle in hand. He continued by taking something out of his pocket. Kent approached this man.
"Are you fixing your saddle again, Sain?" Kent asked the sitting knight. This was one of the possible situations under which Kent would have least liked to see Sain fixing his saddle. Kent, although he didn't like to admit it, was somewhat jealous of this skill of Sain's, thus his eagerness to learn the making of a horseshoe—he was not satisfied with merely being able to shoe the horse, for Sain had that skill as well.
"Uh huh," the green lance did not look up from his work. He did not need to say anything else. Kent knew why Sain was so concerned with his saddle, and he shook his head at the thought of it. "What would the ladies think were I to fall from my steed in battle?" the knight in green had told this to his companion often enough that Kent did not need to hear here. There was a mutual understanding of a sort.
"So, how long are we stuck here?" Sain asked.
"I don't know. An hour at most, the blacksmith had told me."
"Ah, but it won't take nearly that long for me to fix my saddle, and there is no lovely lady in sight!" Sain exclaimed in his usual melodramatic fashion.
The corners of Kent's mouth lifted a bit. He was, at first, surprised that Sain had not accosted any ladies passing in the street while he was in the shop, bargaining with the blacksmith. He had a good look at the surroundings this time. It was the part of the town with the blacksmith, the cooper, the alehouse—in short, the side of town at which ladies are seldom found. The thought of not having to apologize to outraged woman for Sain's behavior was enough to remove the gloom cast over Kent by having his attempt at blacksmith learning thwarted. "It might be a good day after all," Kent thought to himself as he watched Sain at work with his saddle. He was not entirely correct.
"Why do we have to always be in groups of at least two anyway?" Sain complained almost immediately after he had finished strapping his saddle onto his horse.
"Were you not listening when Piter explained it to us?" Kent had repeated that answer several times during their trip to the blacksmith, and he had ample practice for the answer—almost as much as Sain had for complaining, he thought. "We are being stalked by assassins. Piter thought that it would be safer if we traveled in at least twos and watched out for each other rather than wander around Badon by ourselves. Badon is a dangerous town as it is without the possibility of Black Fangs around." Personally, though, Kent thought of the tactician as somewhat of a crack addict, with his alto voice, unorthodox battle tactics, and raving instructions.
"But..."
"Mister, your horseshoes are ready!" a cry from a shrill voice interrupted Sain's protest. Kent never thought he would welcome the sound of the blacksmith's apprentice as he did now. He entered the shop, paid the smith for his horseshoe and nails, and quickly started on the return to camp, where he might be safe from Sain's complaints.
-------------------------
Kent tied his horse to the post. It didn't take him long to change the shoes on his horse. He was proud that he was faster than that slacker Sain at it. Although he would rather spend his time in practice or scouting, he was still somewhat glad that he could not complete the task with a mere thought. Sain, saying that he could not deprive the lovely ladies of his presence for too long, left a few minutes ago, unable to wait for Kent to finish shoeing his horse, not that the green lance would've wanted to wait for Kent had he the patience. Then again, Kent thought of the apologies he might to make to the women who had been offended by Sain's flirting, and he grimaced. "The things that must be done for morale," Kent often lamented.
It was when Kent was living one of the imagined disasters caused by Sain that she approached. Kent did not hear the footsteps approaching the neighboring post, for he was busy phrasing the apology to Lady Lyndis and a cowering Florina in his mind. He did not hear the expert hands tying the mount. Naturally, he was startled when he heard a female voice next to him.
"Are you Kent? It's nice to meet you," the voice said.
Kent, still mired in his imagination, thought that another angry female has come to complain to him about Sain's behavior. Mechanically, he turned to the direction of the voice and took half a step forward. When he beheld a somewhat surprised but by no means hostile face, hidden slightly on both sides by two long strands of aqua hair, he realized his mistake. His first reaction was to apologize.
"Forgive my rudeness, but who are you?" With his head bowed, Kent said his apology, stiff as always. Yet, he did not like the idea of talking to strangers, but this woman seemed familiar somehow.
"I am Fiora, the pegasus knight. You have been looking after my sister. Allow me to thank you," the woman smiled, a good sign, so Kent thought.
So that was why she seemed familiar. She is Florina's sister. Although her hair was green and straight, and Florina's was a shade of violet and curly, the familial resemblance was definitely there.
"Oh, yes... When we were in Caelin, Florina spoke of you often..." Reflecting on that moment, Kent sometimes regretted not addressing her words of gratitude, yet Kent had always thought that delving on such matters was somewhat bad for the conversation.
"Oh, what did she say?" There was a quality of concern in Fiora's voice. Kent was not sure why she would be so, but he thought it best to lay whatever anxiety Fiora had to rest.
"That you... were a lot like me." That was the best Kent could word it. He did not remember Florina's words well.
"Oh... In what regard?" Curiosity had mingled with concern, yet the latter was still urgent.
Kent did not like making members of the army nervous, but he did not remember. "Well... I'm not really sure... I just remember her saying it. Well, Fiora. It is an honor. Let us fight together and ride on to victory."
"Yes, let's. I think that, together, we can fulfill any duty."
With a mutual bow, the conversation ended. Kent headed away from his destrier, while Fiora continued her work. "Ah, she is dedicated, just like her sister," Kent thought as he departed from the vicinity of the mounts. It felt reassuring to have another such member in the army, a feeling that more than compensated for the new, imagined disasters that Kent had in his head concerning Sain.
Clank! Clank! The sound of metal crashing against metal ringed in Kent's ears as he leaned against the wall of the blacksmith. He wore the corners of his mouth slightly lower than usual, making a barely visible downward crescent that could be best described as a minor scowl. Kent was unhappy; he was reliving the scene a few minutes earlier.
"I'm sorry, but I never let others know the trade," the blacksmith to whom Kent had brought the order for two new shoes for his horse told him.
"But I have no intention of setting up shop," Kent protested to no avail. A minute later, he had found himself being pushed to the door by the apprentice. He had no effort to resist. Here was another secretive tradesman unwilling to let others see him at work. In some ways, he was right in his fear, for Kent was attempting to learn by observation the methods of making shoes for his own horse.
With a sigh, Kent deprived himself of the support of the blacksmith's wall. He walked diagonally across the street to where a man and two horses were waiting. The man's head was pressed near one of the horse's saddle, and his hands were fingering around it. In a moment, he untied the saddle from the back of the horse and sat on the ground, saddle in hand. He continued by taking something out of his pocket. Kent approached this man.
"Are you fixing your saddle again, Sain?" Kent asked the sitting knight. This was one of the possible situations under which Kent would have least liked to see Sain fixing his saddle. Kent, although he didn't like to admit it, was somewhat jealous of this skill of Sain's, thus his eagerness to learn the making of a horseshoe—he was not satisfied with merely being able to shoe the horse, for Sain had that skill as well.
"Uh huh," the green lance did not look up from his work. He did not need to say anything else. Kent knew why Sain was so concerned with his saddle, and he shook his head at the thought of it. "What would the ladies think were I to fall from my steed in battle?" the knight in green had told this to his companion often enough that Kent did not need to hear here. There was a mutual understanding of a sort.
"So, how long are we stuck here?" Sain asked.
"I don't know. An hour at most, the blacksmith had told me."
"Ah, but it won't take nearly that long for me to fix my saddle, and there is no lovely lady in sight!" Sain exclaimed in his usual melodramatic fashion.
The corners of Kent's mouth lifted a bit. He was, at first, surprised that Sain had not accosted any ladies passing in the street while he was in the shop, bargaining with the blacksmith. He had a good look at the surroundings this time. It was the part of the town with the blacksmith, the cooper, the alehouse—in short, the side of town at which ladies are seldom found. The thought of not having to apologize to outraged woman for Sain's behavior was enough to remove the gloom cast over Kent by having his attempt at blacksmith learning thwarted. "It might be a good day after all," Kent thought to himself as he watched Sain at work with his saddle. He was not entirely correct.
"Why do we have to always be in groups of at least two anyway?" Sain complained almost immediately after he had finished strapping his saddle onto his horse.
"Were you not listening when Piter explained it to us?" Kent had repeated that answer several times during their trip to the blacksmith, and he had ample practice for the answer—almost as much as Sain had for complaining, he thought. "We are being stalked by assassins. Piter thought that it would be safer if we traveled in at least twos and watched out for each other rather than wander around Badon by ourselves. Badon is a dangerous town as it is without the possibility of Black Fangs around." Personally, though, Kent thought of the tactician as somewhat of a crack addict, with his alto voice, unorthodox battle tactics, and raving instructions.
"But..."
"Mister, your horseshoes are ready!" a cry from a shrill voice interrupted Sain's protest. Kent never thought he would welcome the sound of the blacksmith's apprentice as he did now. He entered the shop, paid the smith for his horseshoe and nails, and quickly started on the return to camp, where he might be safe from Sain's complaints.
-------------------------
Kent tied his horse to the post. It didn't take him long to change the shoes on his horse. He was proud that he was faster than that slacker Sain at it. Although he would rather spend his time in practice or scouting, he was still somewhat glad that he could not complete the task with a mere thought. Sain, saying that he could not deprive the lovely ladies of his presence for too long, left a few minutes ago, unable to wait for Kent to finish shoeing his horse, not that the green lance would've wanted to wait for Kent had he the patience. Then again, Kent thought of the apologies he might to make to the women who had been offended by Sain's flirting, and he grimaced. "The things that must be done for morale," Kent often lamented.
It was when Kent was living one of the imagined disasters caused by Sain that she approached. Kent did not hear the footsteps approaching the neighboring post, for he was busy phrasing the apology to Lady Lyndis and a cowering Florina in his mind. He did not hear the expert hands tying the mount. Naturally, he was startled when he heard a female voice next to him.
"Are you Kent? It's nice to meet you," the voice said.
Kent, still mired in his imagination, thought that another angry female has come to complain to him about Sain's behavior. Mechanically, he turned to the direction of the voice and took half a step forward. When he beheld a somewhat surprised but by no means hostile face, hidden slightly on both sides by two long strands of aqua hair, he realized his mistake. His first reaction was to apologize.
"Forgive my rudeness, but who are you?" With his head bowed, Kent said his apology, stiff as always. Yet, he did not like the idea of talking to strangers, but this woman seemed familiar somehow.
"I am Fiora, the pegasus knight. You have been looking after my sister. Allow me to thank you," the woman smiled, a good sign, so Kent thought.
So that was why she seemed familiar. She is Florina's sister. Although her hair was green and straight, and Florina's was a shade of violet and curly, the familial resemblance was definitely there.
"Oh, yes... When we were in Caelin, Florina spoke of you often..." Reflecting on that moment, Kent sometimes regretted not addressing her words of gratitude, yet Kent had always thought that delving on such matters was somewhat bad for the conversation.
"Oh, what did she say?" There was a quality of concern in Fiora's voice. Kent was not sure why she would be so, but he thought it best to lay whatever anxiety Fiora had to rest.
"That you... were a lot like me." That was the best Kent could word it. He did not remember Florina's words well.
"Oh... In what regard?" Curiosity had mingled with concern, yet the latter was still urgent.
Kent did not like making members of the army nervous, but he did not remember. "Well... I'm not really sure... I just remember her saying it. Well, Fiora. It is an honor. Let us fight together and ride on to victory."
"Yes, let's. I think that, together, we can fulfill any duty."
With a mutual bow, the conversation ended. Kent headed away from his destrier, while Fiora continued her work. "Ah, she is dedicated, just like her sister," Kent thought as he departed from the vicinity of the mounts. It felt reassuring to have another such member in the army, a feeling that more than compensated for the new, imagined disasters that Kent had in his head concerning Sain.