Uurg, I feel horrible. I've been sick for the past three days. Anyway, this is something that I've been writing between my Saga of the Discarded chapters. Since it's unlikely that I'll be updating that for a while, I'm going to be posting this up as way of compensating. I want some feedback on it, so please don't hesitate to review.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire emblem. There are a few things I do own that will be cropping up, but I'll let you know about them when they turn up.

The Ride of Uther

A Fire Emblem Fanfic by Kiri-Ryu

'Regular speech'

(Thoughts)

Writing and dreams

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Chapter One: Homecoming

When I had received the news, I had been so shocked. He had seemed so vibrant and full of life, and had never fallen a day sick when I was travelling with him. But... For him to have died from illness, it had shocked me to my core. I am not ashamed to admit that I loved him, and that I regret not spending more time with him. I should have told him... I should have let him know before he died. But, how could I? I suppose for you to understand what I talk of, you must first hear the full story, not just the romanticised version portrayed in the famous ballad: The Ride of Uther. It all started over eight years ago, eight years before the events of the Black Fang incident. Elibe was ridden with bandits at that time, and there were rumours of them forming their own nation, nestled between south Sacae and north Bern. To wander between towns was a guaranteed way to be waylaid. Numerous complaints had been sent to the nobility, but their complaints had gone unanswered. The bandits populated, and spread their reach to the entirety of Elibe. It seemed as if nothing would stop them. But then, the oldest legitimate son of Marquess Ostia returned from his training in Etruria...

He strode purposefully through the corridors of Castle Ostia, his purple cloak swaying behind him. His green coloured plate mail armour clinked with every step and accompanying it was the tapping of a polearm shaft hitting the ground. His face, still youthful at twenty years of age, was clean-shaven and was framed by his shoulder-length navy blue hair. His eyes, which were a slightly lighter shade of blue than his hair, stared resolutely in front of him, towards a large oaken door. He reached the door and twisted the brass handle. Inside was the work office of the Marquess of Ostia.

The Marquess himself, Lord Raeric Dyrant by name, looked up from the various papers scattered across his desk. Like the man before him, he had deep blue eyes, but his hair, which had been cropped short, was a much lighter colour. He was tall, easily reaching 6'5 and was quite muscular. He was in his early forties, and his face was just beginning to line with age. He was wearing a blue coat, with the coat-of-arms of Ostia on its sleeve (Two Lances crossed over a tower shield). Upon seeing the man enter the room he smiled.

'Welcome home, Uther.' He stood up and looked his son up and down. 'I trust your six months in Etruria went well?'

'Quite well.' Uther responded, leaning the polearm he was carrying with him on a nearby wall. 'I learned a lot from Weapons Master Kaelman. Oh, and I bring tidings from Lord Miryd.' He handed a folded piece of parchment over to his father, who gave it a quick glance then set it aside on his desk.

'So, what did you learn?' Lord Raeric asked.

'Well, aside from my daily training sessions with Master Kaelman, I had various history and military tactics lessons.' Uther shrugged. 'I have to admit, Master Kaelman taught me a lot about the usage of the Lochaber Axe.' He glanced at the weapon that leant on the wall beside him. The long shaft was made from Yew wood, on top if it was a slightly curved, axe-like blade with a cruelly curved hook attached behind it. The weapon was designed to pull mounted units off their horses with the hook, then to hack into their armour with the axe-blade. It was a challenging weapon to wield properly, but Uther found that he preferred it to the sword or the regular axe.

'However,' He turned to look once again at his Father. 'On my return trip, my group was waylaid by bandits no less than four times. This problem is getting out of hand, we have to do something!'

'Uther,' Lord Raeric looked levelly at his son. 'You know that I cannot make that decision by myself. We need the full backing of the Lycia Alliance Council to launch a counter measure force against them.'

'Father!' Uther stepped forward, urgency and anger in his voice. 'We must do something soon! The people are losing confidence; every second caravan is being robbed. People are needlessly dying and trade is at an all-time low! And-'

'And if I try to do anything about it now, then I risk angering the Alliance!' Raeric pulled himself to his full height and glared down at his son. 'Would you rather wait and have the full Lycia Alliance Army fighting off the bandit scum, or face a force of thousands by yourself?'

Uther averted his gaze, silently letting his anger vent. 'How long until the next Council meeting?' He asked his father.

'A week at the most.' Lord Raeric relaxed slightly. 'We'll resolve what we have to do then.'

'Now, let us hope that we have a week before this gets out of hand.' Uther looked back at his father, sighed, then smiled again. 'Still, it is good to be home. Where's Hector? Usually when I get back, he ecstatically greets me.'

'Ah.' The tension floated from the room, and Lord Raeric grinned. 'Whilst you were away, Lord Elbert sent his son over for education. Hector made fast friends with young Eliwood, and I expect that they were playing outside somewhere when you arrived.'

'Eliwood? Well I never...' He chuckled, then stretched his arms out. 'Well, I'll go gather my stuff and move back into my room.'

'Make sure to greet your mother. She's been worrying about you for weeks.'

Uther nodded, still smiling, grabbed his Lochaber axe and moved out of the room. He walked down the familiar corridors until he came to his room. Opening the door, he saw that the servants had already moved his things in. He placed his Lochaber axe to the side, then he began to remove his armour. He changed into a loose, blue tunic with cream britches. He sighed with relief, glad to be out his stuffy armour. He then moved once again out of his room to look around the castle. He strolled leisurely, and greeted all the servants he came across. He eventually ended up in outside, and habitually heading towards the training grounds. He paused when he reached there, and then leant on a tree and smiled.

Before him, two figures duelled; both of them were using padded weapons. The shorter of the two was using a rapier, and was quite nimble on his feet. He had a little trouble using the weapon, but that was to be expected. His opponent was much more clumsier, and he swung around a battle axe. Although he was taller and more muscled that his opponent, he was having a lot of problems using the axe properly. Again, that was to be expected. The axe-wielder lifted his weapon over his head, then swung it down at his opponent. The nimbler man dodged easily out of the way then he thrust his weapon clumsily, managing to score a hit. The axe wilder yelped then sprang away, almost toppling over as the axe's weight pulled him backwards. The sword wielder laughed and Uther placed his hand over his mouth to stifle his own mirth. He was noticed at that point, and the two duellists turned to look at him. The axe wielder grinned wildly and called out to him. Uther walked forward and then was mobbed by his nine-year-old brother.

'Uther! You're back!' Hector looked up at his older brother and grinned.

'Of course I am.' Uther placed his hand on his brother's head and ruffled up his hair. Hector swatted at his hand, but the grin remained on his face.

'I see that you've been training with the axe. Going to use Wolfbeil then, eh?' He asked. Hector nodded enthusiastically.

Wolfbeil was the Dyrant family heirloom, passed down through each generation. It was the weapon of Roland's first-born son; the second Marquess of Ostia. Uther would have inherited it, but he had decided to use the Lochaber axe instead. So, when his little brother Hector had reached seven years of age, Uther had given it to him. He had trained with the weapon as often as he could, and had refused help from the weapons teachers around Ostia. He was really clumsy with the weapon, since it had been designed for battle-hardened warriors, not nine-year-old kids. But, considering the difficulty he had wielding the thing before, he had progressed rather well. Uther smiled: when Hector finally mastered Wolfbeil it would be a sight to see.

'And Eliwood!' He turned to face Lord Elbert's son. 'I never would have thought that you two would have become friends after your fight a few years ago.'

'Well, I forgave him.' The young red head said.

'But you were the one who started it!' Hector growled.

'No, you did!' Eliwood glared back.

'Whoa, settle down.' Uther leaned down and placed a hand on each one of their shoulders. 'We don't want a repeat of that fight.'

The two boys looked at each other, than sheepishly apologised. Uther sighed, standing up again. (A disaster avoided... But for how long?) He mused. He thought back to the incident last year. It had been the annual meeting of the Alliance council and for the first time Lord Elbert had brought his son along. There was a few hours to socialize before the meeting went in to full swing, and during that time Eliwood had managed to worm away from his father's protective gaze. Just before the meeting initiated, Lord Elbert and Lord Raeric noticed that both their sons were missing; they searched the castle high and low before the two were found. They were in the middle of the garden, Eliwood pushing Hector's face back at a painful angle as Hector punched Eliwood repeatedly in the gut. Both were covered with numerous bruises and cuts from rose thorns. No-one knows (Or remembers) what prompted the fight, but for them to have gotten over it was a sheer miracle.

He snapped out of his thoughts as his younger brother and his friend excitedly called out to him, then lead him out into the gardens. Uther, with a small grin on his face, followed the two young boys, more to keep Hector happy than for his own amusement. Despite the impending conflict with the Bandits, Uther was at peace. The horrific events happening elsewhere seemed far and distant things that could never touch him.

For the first time in six months, he was home.

What do you think? Should I continue it? What needs to be changed? Review and let me know!

Chapter Two: Action Against the Infection

R&R please!

I am now going back to bed.