It was a good day for Jakob the Butler. He did not have to wake up before her the master and could sleep to his eyes' pleasure. This was also good for his alarm clock – the fourth one he had bought this week.
But it was also a bad day for Jakob the Butler. Without the maids, he did not know how to wake up her the master. When she fortified herself with all the pillows and blankets, it was a sign of resistance to any trick they might have to disrupt her beauty sleep.
A common man might had entertain the notion of kissing the princess as to re-enact the old fairy tale, but NO, Jakob was the best butler in the castle – no, the best on the whole continent. He would rather slit his tongue than to let that dirt tarnished the image of her the master.
…Would he?
And so, he did the next best thing he knew that was going to work: A good blend of orange pekoe and the purest mineral water, heated to the perfect degree. The aroma steamed from the cup guarantee to bring many exotic fantasies to the mind.
"Master Corrin, your tea is ready."
*Rustle* ("Go away.")
"And Flora makes some wonderful pancakes this morning." Great pancakes indeed. Made with the finest hard winter wheat and corn flour, fried to a honey gold, it was so crisp that the crust shattered with a hard touch, yet the inside was soft enough that when it was soaked with maple syrup, you could not distinguish between the liquid and the not.
*Rustle Rustle* ("Save some for me")
("Truth didn't work, so maybe lies would?")
"Master Marx… has almost finished all of them. Oh, how much honey and maple syrup the prince pours on his golden wheat pancakes." Jakob cursed his luck: for him to take an impossible task, and to make an incredulous and shameful lie about his the master.
*Grumble* ("Tell him he is death") *Grumble Grumble* ("And your salary is halved this month")
...Since when did he receive salary?
("A half-lie, then?")
"You've training with prince Xander this morning, m' lady."
…
"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME SOONER?!"
She was unmistakably a lady of the highest prestige and lowest discipline; or a princess had her demeanor permitted it. But as matters stood, she was a messy young girl who overslept. Her silvery hair was as crumbled and coiled as her linen gown – might it be hot oil or ivory comb, they would not yield to any attempt of straightening.
In the darkness and behind the sleeping veil, those captivating eyes shone (though in terror); and yet she still clumsily bumped left and right. The grey sky of a typical Nohrian morning received a menagerie of swears and curses from the princess (and blesses from her butler. It was still dark enough to cover how red his face was.)
"WHERE IS MY ARMOR?!"
"Master Corrin, I've taken the liberty of readying your armor, and, er, pounding out the dents... But there is no reason for you to be hurry, master Corrin. Your brother has left early this morning to Lord Gregory's place, and your training has been backlogged."
"Ugh. Fine. I'm not completely awake…I wish I could have finished the dream I was having…"
The princess were never seemed that relieved when she heard those words. She flopped down onto the pillows stuffed with swan feathers; her body wasn't unlike a puppet cut off its string.
"Why don't you tell me that sooner? Now I can't go back to bed anymore."
"Please pardon me, Master. I was desperate to wake you up, and we have the service of neither Flora nor Felicia at the moment…And do tell. What kind of dream was it?"
Corrin instead looked away in anger- well, faux anger. She seemed to be more interested in avoiding Jakob's question.
"I can neither forgive someone who considered the possibility of freeze-burning my face" Jakob looked as if he was ready to prostrated a hundred time for his sins. "And where is my little brother?"
"Master Marx has been training with Gunther without a break since early this dawn. It seems that he can't wait for Prince Xander to return."
"He passed his breakfast again, did he? Going easier on himself is that hard for him?!"
"If you want, I can tell Flora to fetch Master Marx to join you in the meal."
Corrin re-composed herself from the smoldering annoyance, and then issued first order of the day:
"Please do it. And Jakob! Bring me those pancakes you talked of! If they are also a lie, then…"
Prince Marx's blade slid along the edge of his opponent's spear, aimed for the exposed wrist of the old knight in an attempt to disarm him. However, Gunther had already foretold the mind of his young student and whipped the lance sideway with strength unfit for his age.
His sword was raised horizontally in front of his forehead to parry the incoming attack, but Gunther's spear was too quick and he took a hit just inches from his collar bone. His left arm felt wobbled at the joint – from the waist to over his should was almost paralyzed completely.
"That is going to left a mark." Said the prince who clutched his left arm. It didn't break any of his bone – the armor prevented that – but Marx could vividly imagine the red hot skin with tiny veins underneath busted out.
"If it was in the old days, you wouldn't have been able to stand on your feet after a hit like that."
"I'll take it as a compliment, then." The battle continued within the outskirt of the forest that surrounded the Northern Fortress.
Two warriors facing each other had huge discrepancies between them: The aggressor was a very young man. People could had mistaken that face to be that of a child who spent his days in complete blissfulness, yet the plate armor (white as the barks of a silver birch) and his serious expression fooled none on what situation he was in.
His opponent, a man far passed his prime, stood firmly against the restless attacker. His hair might had gone grey and his eyes dulled; but his exposed wrists, bulged with muscles, rotated without the slightest restriction - the memories of combat etched into every fiber of his being had yet to be forgotten.
There was no doubt about the seriousness of the spar: It was to prepare the young man for a life-and-death circumstance, which he would have to raise his sword to protect his life. A sad reality, to everyone but him – his body and mind were indubitably relishing in every moment of this.
Gunther held his spear with the butt up and the steel-covered tip pointed to the earth, and every time he brought it up, the spear would spin inside the palms of his hand. Just a few seconds eyeing at the sliver tip, Marx could imagine the sharp tongue of a snake hypnotizing him.
An eye for an eye, two warriors fought with every ounce of their strength to end the stalemate. Tranquility of the secluded Northern Fortress was disturbed by their battle cries, grunts of pain, and that distinctive vibration of ironwood.
Gunther curved his mouth into a grin after his student had pulled out a successful feint maneuver: The prince crossed his arms across the chest and left leg lowered. His eyes moved to Gunther's right shoulder, but his upward slash only went half-way before it turned into a stab toward the knight' belly.
The old knight was faster, though. He lowered his body to the left and thrust his spear toward the prince's left shoulder. It was still sore from his last strike, and if Gunther hit it, he could end the spar at once. He just need to put enough force so that it wouldn't dislodge the prince's joint.
That was exactly what Marx had expected: He locked the spear with his armpit, which was mildly surprised to his opponent. Gunther seemed to be defenseless to the prince's mighty strike on his collarbone – revenge, perhaps?
But the knight simply used his left arm to catch the mock blade. And now, two fighters engaged in a tug, with both sides struggled to rob the weapon of his enemy, while preventing the same to happen with himself.
And this was where Gunther prevailed: He twisted his body with insurmountable strength, brought the prince up – a healthy 16 years old in full armor no less – and flung him into the ground in a perfect 180o arc. Marx lay on the wet grass, his beaten body spread like a bird and his brain bounced wildly in his skull.
"Master Marx, I think that is enough for today. Your improvement surprises me. I've rarely encountered a student who advances that much in just five years."
"Six. Six years. And I thought we are your Only apprentices."
"You two could be the ones to bring light to our kingdom so long shrouded in darkness."
The old knight's edged smile, sharpen and distorted with the diagonal scar that ran from his left eye brow all the way to his chin, was nonetheless warm and full of proud.
"We should rest for now." He picked up the ironwood waster and took a stance with the tip plunged into the ground – a habit the prince took from his twin sister. A female servant, whose blue hair and maid outfit made her stood out like a doll, apprised to the prince.
"Master Marx, your sister has just woken up, and she requested your presence at the breakfast as soon as possible."
"Thank you for waiting until our spar has ended, Flora…I've got to run before sister finish my portion. See you again in the castle!"
He ran as if the devil was behind him, yet he carried an unclouded smile, one benefitting his naive face.
"Sir Gunther, can I ask you a question?" The maid, Flora, questioned the teacher of her master. Perceptiveness had replaced the genial eyes that she gave to the prince a minute before.
"What is it?"
"I've never seen you praise Master Corrin once when she passes your tests, but you do so a lot with Master Marx even if he has just failed."
"Hmm…It's because of how different they are. I know you can see that a good challenge is the best stimulant to our Princess; but for the Prince… He like what he does, and he only does what he like."
The awaited pancakes never reached Marx. His twin sister had already finished them by the time he arrived at the doorstep with an empty stomach. And, to torment him more, Corrin locked him inside the library for all day to research for a sound strategy to be used in the participated battle with their eldest brother.
Said brother was sitting right next to Marx. Crown Prince Xander was haunted by bad thoughts – his eyebrows arched into a "V", his fingers moved back and forth on an imaginary abacus, and many more underlying signs were indications of the weight in his mind. Dust from the long and continuous travel hadn't only ground him mentally exhausted, but also to his normally vigorous body. But Xander showed none of that weariness to his siblings. The benevolent smile never left his lips and usually, they were directed at either Marx, or Elise the youngest.
It could be said that next to the candles and torches and lamps, the room was brightly lit by the young princess. Her legs and spirit did not permit her to stay in one place for too long: the kitchen, the balcony, or from one sibling to another. Corrin had a way to keep her little sister in seat, though – by playing with Elise's face (people joked about how the twins were fond of touching the face of people they like. Elise especially, for her pinky cheeks were wonders to pinch.) While Elise faked her anger to how her (favorite) sister was getting so much fun from watching her face turned red, the fringes of her hair (gold and silk that evoked memories of a bountiful harvest) were being fixed by Camilla.
One couldn't mistake the motherly affection Camilla had for her siblings: chastised Xander for over-burden himself, enamoring Marx with tales of combat, teasing Corrin about the boys, annoyed Leo enough for him to lift his head from the book, and gently uncoiled each and every strand of Elise's hair before tied it back into a ponytail. People were simply drawn to her. But just with only one step away and any observant man could sense the…variations of the enigma. It was in her eyes, between her fingers, on her lips, etc. Too many clues were revealed (or not), but none could pierced them together.
If Camilla was a question mark, then Leo equaled a dot. His regal-ness (or arrogance, some would say) could silence all quibble, and left men either stay away from or admire him – and all was done without a single word uttered. The prince, with the book in hand, was in his own world that even the siblings rarely could enter. Pages were flipped with the enthusiasm of an ill man (and fingers of an artisan); yet, just look at how the sharp eyes lit up with every line, you could tell how much it had conquered his mind…
And the title of the book? "Corpus of Spells in Ancient Languages - Edition III" by A. Crowley.
Taking a break from deciphering over his brother's shoulder whatever gibberish was written on the calf parchments, Marx turned up to see Felicia the maid carrying the chafing stand, followed by her twin sister Flora with the caquelon (communal pot) and the ingredients.
As long as the food weren't made by Felicia, it was good. And in every case, good food should also not be entrusted to the hand of the pink hair maid – the poor girl would trip on her own feet!
…It was needless to say how fervent Marx was to the meal. OR how panic he was when Felicia accidentally dropped the char cloth into the pot. By pure chance, Xander's hair barely avoided the blazing drop of oil that splashed all over the place. It still managed to turn his eyebrows from yellow to ginger, however.
Another pot was brought out, but not before Felicia was delegated to the barn to help Lilth with the horses. This time, Jakob took it into his own two hands. There was something of art in his way of chopping the wildfowl into boneless, skinless blocks that retained the fat; or how a white petal (meat) and black pistil (mushroom) flower decorated on the main dish. The butler signed off his work by ignited the jellied alcohol inside the stove for a gentle blue-and-orange flame.
While the meat, mushroom and potato were being cooked and the bowls of sauces be distributed, Corrin asked Xander:
"Did you catch this bird, big brother? Is this why you returned so late?"
"No, Leo did it." Various degree of surprise appeared on the face of everyone surrounded the table. Marx even gave an encouraging pat on Leo's shoulder. "The works awaited me this morning left me no time to even hunt a squirrel."
"You miss the practice this morning! The governor must have had important matters to tell you."
"He did. Father sent his words." Silence reigned with the mention of King Garon. The oldest prince then directed his gaze over his younger twins. There was both authority and hope in those eyes.
"You will be released from the Northern Fortress."
"…Are you making fun of me?"
"Sister, did you hear that! We're finally free!"
The young girl was speechless, while her brother literary jumped of his seat and laugh to his heart. He locked his siblings in hugs; with prince Xander received the tightest one.
"Corrin, you know that I never take father's order for joke." It was more of a congratulation than a reprimand. And everybody in the dining room at that time could not hide their joy, even Jakob and Flora who stood there to serve their masters.
The crimson shade of Corrin's irises became deeper and deeper until they assumed the red of Venetian velvet, and tears gathered at the edge of them.
"Darling, why are you crying? Today is your happy day, after all." Camilla brought the head of her sister on her shoulder and consoled Corrin by smothering her hair like a mother would. Elise and Marx, otherwise, seemed to freak out a bit and rushed to her side.
"Are you all right, sister?"
"Yes...I'm fine…Thank you." From the dark cloud, Corrin smiled again after she wept her tears off. That smile…From the expression on his face, even Leo was slightly enamored.
"Yay! Now you can go everywhere with me! I want to go around Windmire with you and visit my friends and eat everything and…"
"That is what we will do, Elise. Father has also called Corrin and Marx to the capital and have an audience with him. He urged us to depart I three days."
"Father?...It has been years since he last visited us…"
"He was simply too deep into the administration. I trust that you're familiar with the current state of Nohr, yes?...Good! I believe that you two will be granted official positions of responsibility for our nation."
(It had been long established that every Nohrian royal, by blood or not, was expected to contribute to their fatherland by taking up commanding posts within the court or the military. In the past, it was but effective: violence, corruption, and betrayal flourished as factions disputed for power. But everything had changed after the "Purge". The surviving members of nobility were coerced by fear into doing their job properly, and the prince and princess were only given limited power.)
Marx, who had been hysterical with joy until then, was snapped aback by his eldest brother. The expression on his face changed to that of unease – same as with his sister.
…
The rest of the dinner was spent between potshots of conversation, which neither twins participated in much.
Sensing that there was something his younger siblings wanted to ask but unable to say aloud, Xander spoke after the dessert had been finished:
"Elise, it's time for you to go to bed. Tomorrow will be a long and tired trip, so you better sleep early tonight."
"But I want to play some more with Marx and Corrin!" Elise's pout earned the smile of the twins. Marx gently unwrapped her delicate hands which were intertwined with his arm, then ruffled her hair lovingly:
"We can play tomorrow too, on the road to Windmire. And I promise to go anywhere with you after we meet Father."
"…It's a promise, then! Good night, brother Marx, sister Camilla, sister Corrin, brother Marx, brother Leo!"
…
Steam from the cocoa reticently hid away an air of weariness in the room; however, despite themselves bathed in the sweet and soothing fragrant, each of the remained royal siblings bore an expression of alarm.
"I'll be straight with you. Our situation is dire. The starvation may has yet to happen, but there is no doubt about its coming in the next month. We have tried every possible way, from open the royal reserve, taking donations from the merchants (Camilla mouth curved into a loathing frown), even cutting down on taxes…It's simply out of our hands now."
The cocoa was too hot, too bitter when it touched Xander's tongue that he barely avoided spitting it out. Leo, however, somehow became much more confident and less reserved in his words then:
"We can still keep everything in our control if we manage to keep commoners in their land and out of the street. The people will be able to hold out if they are allowed to cultivate the spring crop."
"Leo, darling, all the land has been made to raise sheep now. The yeomen become the serfs, the serfs become the drifters, the drifters become the death…" Camilla deliberately made her voice to be as meretricious as possible to stress her abhorrence. "And the lords and barons and viscounts become millionaires."
"What the Hoshidan sells to us are literary killing us…This morning I saw the sheds in lord Gregory's castle. They were brimmed over the roof with rice. Hoshidan Rice!…"
Something that had been bothering Corrin since the start of the conversation was finally raised by him:
"Why doesn't Father do anything? Brother, I remember that you once said the food is being sold back and forth between the lords? Can we forbade their trade and fix a price so that the commoners can afford it?"
"We simply can't, little princess. Their business is not illicit – Their business has been there for ages before we were born. And Father, he…The army has taken all of his mind these days. He doesn't care unless the Royal Army is refused from anything it wants…" The crown prince immediately corrected his words as if he was just identified himself as an infidel.
"I don't mean that Father doesn't care for the people…This maybe the only way to save our nation." The implication was as clear as day, but none dared to speak it out, or even make a sound until Marx did:
"Brother, is this mean we're going to war with Hoshido?"
"That is most likely. Calling on the private reserves of the lords, fortifying the garrisons, redeploying troops to the border…We can end this swiftly if Father commits everything."
"But Leo, you know that we lost more than we gain if we fight and by some chance, win! The number of human lives we sacrifice would be…uncountable!"
"What other choice do we have? I don't like war, either, but to prevent the starvation of the people, we need Hoshido's grain and meat. And so if we must turn to robbery to not to die of hunger, then be it!"
"What horrible thing are you saying!..."
Camilla had to step in between her brothers to defuse their dispute. Her voice were sweet, but the strictness implied was unmistakable:
"Corrin, Leo, I know that you have your own opinion, but let's not make a feud between brothers, is that fine?"
The argument was begrudgingly ended, and everyone was left in silence to pursuit their reasoning.
Xander declared the conclusion that all had reached:
"In any case, we don't have the strength to determine what will happen to out nation in the future. Especially you, Corrin and Marx. I fear that the weight of responsibility will crush you…"
"Brother! You doubt us?!"
"We've been trained for this for all of our lives! Please! You must trust us!"
"Trust and loyalty must be gained, not given. That is the lesson I intend to teach you before any of you can join us in the front line…Marx, Corrin, prepare for combat! Bring your best sword and your best armor! We will fight in one hour!"
The cold of a Nohrian night didn't measured up to the shiver that ran down Corrin's and Marx's spines when they saw their eldest brother fully clothed for war: The black armor saturated into the darkness, but the gold-and-sliver linings glitter under the light of the torches. His stead, a four-and-a-half year old Frisian in his prime, puffed and knocked its horseshoe on the stone cold floor. By the evermore rapid rhythm, the war horse must be extremely impatient in waiting for the rider's order to trample every foe on his sight.
Xander drew his weapon, an undecorated great sword, and pointed in toward the twins:
"Come to me with all of your strength!"
Corrin whispered into the ears of her brother:
"What is the plan, Marx? We split up and surround him, correct?"
"That is also my thought. And if one of us get tired, we will alternate the roles between each other."
"Be careful with Bayard's kicks. They hurt a lot."
Sword were unsheathed, and prayers for victory rolled out of their tongues. The twins discreetly approached their brother, one step at a time. Unlike the eldest prince who kept his eyes relaxed on an imaginary spot in front of him, Corrin and Marx's eyeballs spun rapidly in their holes, taking in the smallest detail of the battlefield.
Corrin signaled the assault by a loud yell – also meant to surprise their opponent. She came from the left flank, and Marx on the right, both with their swords raised high.
The first strike was dodged with ease by Xander, who simply moved his horse back and 90° left. He then struck down both of his siblings by a mighty swept of his sword.
Marx and Corrin barely avoided being flung into the ground by jumping away. Still, the force behind the attack made hair stood on end.
The tower was five rute (about 43 feet) from the ground, and if she fell from it…Just thinking about the possibility of a gruesome death spread horripilation all over Corrin's skin. And a satisfied grin on her lips.
The twins opened another attack again, with the same pattern – but this time Marx came for the left, while Corrin took the right. All the same, Xander swept his lance, and the young prince had was pushed back. The princess, however, crouched low to avoid it, then focused her blade on a focal area on Xander's body: His waist.
Her purpose was clear: By getting so close with Xander, she rendered his lance useless and unable to counterattack. Seeing his sister's intention, Marx closed in again and attacked from the other side to put Xander and his horse in a gridlock.
Minutes latter, the crown prince had counted in his mind to 16 – That was how many time he was hit by Marx and Corrin. Actually, he had been doing well against two enemies at once. And the bronze blades were too soft to do any everlasting damage to his heavy armor…But still, the ferocious of the twins was unmistakable. Maybe it was time for him to indulge himself fully in the battle
Bayard raised its two front feet and slammed into an unprepared Marx that was too deep into offensive. Corrin was then left to defend against all disadvantages: The dropping temperature, the cold air sharp as knife, a sword in the hands of one of the most skilled knights of Nohr, the unrelenting assault, the aching muscles and the crackling bones…All that she and her brother had given Xander now was paid back with interest by him .
"That's our brother for you!" Leo, with a sarcastic smile on his face, commented from the sideline. "You won't beat the strongest knight in Nohr anytime soon!"
"Are you mocking us? Just wait until I get my chance with you!" Corrin retaliated. But her word proved futile, as Xander's sword finally met its mark and slung her to the ground.
"Giving up so soon, Corrin, Marx? I expect more of you! You're prince and princess of Nohr! Pick up your swords and try again."
"But brother, I…" Every fiber of Marx's body yearned for he to surrender; yet, his mind thought the opposite. And it looked like his sister was the same. The ox guard stance proofed enough of her defiance.
"We train like this so we can defend ourselves from our enemies. Father has been tracking your process. If you can't land a hit on me today…"
"He may never permit you to leave the Northern Fortress. Ever…And if he doesn't pass down that judgment, I will."
"What?! D-Did he really say that? That's insane!"
"Well then, look like we'll have to find a way to bring you down from Bayard. Prepare yourself, brother!"
"Motivated, are we? Then use that fire to best me in battle, little princess, little prince. If you would see the world beyond your window, defeat me. Prove that all of the time I've devoted to training you has not been in vain!"
…
Corrin struggled on her two feet and her sword pivoted into the ground. Seeing that, Xander simply use the broadside of his sword to hit her, sending the princess sprawled over her brother. And then the same things happened to Marx when he tried to stand up.
Every time Corrin or Marx's feet gained a bit of ground, they were struck down by the blade of their brother. It was monotonous, to the point of becoming unintended (or not) torture
"Yield, now! You swing timidly, without resolve. You must genuinely try to kill me!"
"…You're the one who taught me to never surrender, Xander... So I won't!"
"And who said that we're done for?!"
…
Leo looked at the sky. Venus had moved to the west half of the sky for a while – dawn may not be that far away.
The beating before him had gotten so boring that he began to question his presence here. Not a word was exchanged, only the silent of armor being gradually crushed under the force. The twins must had had bruises and blister all over their body, despite the eldest's effort not to inflict any wound to them.
Thanks Anakos that Elise and Camilla aren't here to witness this!
Once again, Corrin fell prostrated onto the ground, and this time, she seemed as if the stubborn princess might finally have met her end. Still, her fingers, unconsciously or not, dug into the ground as she began a painful crawl.
"A commander who does not know when to retreat is as worthy as a death man…"
He better called the maids to carry his siblings back to their rooms. They simply weren't in any state to fight anymore. But before Leo could had done that, Corrin mumbled feebly:
"And a soldier who does not have the courage to fight is as worthy as a traitor." She crawled toward her twin brother, who also had fallen because of Xander's blade. A moment before, it looked like most of his life had left Marx; but the moment his sister's arms was on his shoulder, he got back enough strength to rose from the floor while leaned onto his twin.
In contrast to Leo's agitation and worry, Xander instead had a pleasant look on his eyes. He then spoke to the twins, voice much less threatening than it used to be:
"Hmm, looks like these wounds need attention. In that case…"
The brilliant blue light gathered into a cyclone on the tip of the conical rooftop, and when it vanished, a circle of light on it was revealed. A warm flame came from the strange runic symbols inscribed on it.
"Ah! There was a Dragon Vein here?"
"Yes. You should have sensed it as well. The blood of dragons flow in your veins, as it does in all royals. You must learn to harness this draconic power wherever you may find it."
"Heal your wounds, Corrin, Marx, then find the courage to come at me again."
Like Ante, son of Poseidon and Gaia, whose became invincible just by standing on his feet, all of the wounds on the body of the twins were healed when they stepped into the glowing circle (left the pain, which was still there).
"Concentrate on the surrounding the next time you fight. The terrain may one day decide if you get glory or death."
"Big brother, does this mean we are allowed to leave the castle?!"
"No. I'm a man of my words, and you should also be. We will continue until one of us is unable to hold his sword."
"The first move is yours. Come at me when you are ready."
Marx and Corrin, battered and drained, but the flame burned strong in their eyes, looked into each other's irises. In that second, one look conveyed thousands of words.
They both assumed the near guard – that was, having the sword angled towards the ground and slightly back, on the side of the rear foot (left for Corrin, right for Marx.) The prince and the princess then charged forward with all of their remaining strength.
Their general tactic was the same: Surrounded their oldest brother and attacked restlessly at him and his horse. But the ferocity of the offense was two-fold, and slowly but steadily, Xander (pleasantly) found himself losing ground.
And finally, Marx did it! His pommel hit a weak spot on the… of Bayard. The horse neighed in pain, and then it knees buckled. Not a moment waiting, Marx crashed into Xander with his arms opened.
The two princes rolled rounds and rounds, entangled in each other until the momentum finally stopped and both sprawled on the cold floor. Xander barely got up on time and steered clear of Corrin's blade; still, a scratch ran almost horizontally on his chest armor.
"Oh, I made a mark on your favorite armor?"
"Cockiness doesn't suit you, little princess. Just a moment ago, our positions were the reverse."
"…And here I'm trying to be more like Camilla."
Just in three sentences, they had exchanged a dozen of blows. Corrin's offensive was seamless, moving from one stance to another without a moment the weak line between her feet being exposed. The tempo of the attacks was bolstered by Marx, who had picked up his sword and rejoined the fight.
"Between a sword and a cross" would be correct to describe Xander's situation then - He was the center of a circle that was formed by the twins. Every time he tried to reach one of his younger siblings, the other would force him into a defense position.
An opening was made when Xander whipped his sword sideways in a crooked strike went his blade to low to block a partial thrust from Marx, but it went low and Marx simply twisted his body to the backside of his brother. Corrin yelled:
"And…NOW!"
Like two swans – a strange image to be brought into a swordfight – Marx and Corrin jumped up and pirouetted in the middle of the air before bringing down their swords at Xander, forcing the crown prince to use his own sword to block them. Metal met metal in a flurry of sparks…
…and they bend. Like wet baguettes. The bronze was simply too soft to withstand the abuse of their users and gave in just in the moment of climax.
Looking at the useless piece of metal on his hands, Marx first, then Corrin, and finally Xander laughed while throwing away their weapons.
"We won! We won!"
"Yes sister, we won!"
"Well done, you two. You're getting stronger everyday, both in minds and bodies."
"Thanks, Xander. I couldn't have done it without your, uh, tough love."
"I disagree. I believe you have natural talent. Someday, you can be the greatest warriors in all of Nohr."
It was strange to hear those praises of their older brother after they had received enough provocations and threats from him the night before.
"Now you're just teasing me."
"You know me, Marx; I never joke about serious matters. I mean what I say."
"Even when you said that we need to kill you to win?"
"Even when I said that you need to kill me to win…"
That earned a choke from Marx and a groan from Leo:
"Typical. You know that true strength is more than simple swordplay, right?"
"Leo, he didn't mean…"
"Calm yourself, little brother. You really are competitive to a fault. A's I've always said, you're a talented mage with formidable magical abilities."
"Your collar is inside out! Someone got dressed when still half-asleep!" The last one was from Corrin (Marx thought he had seen his sister mouthed a "Take that!" afterward.)
Pure terror reigned over Leo's handsome face. He frantically searched and tugged all over his clothes, which in turn made him even more embarrassment – Oh, the dignified prince was no different to an ugly, clumsy duck!
"WHAT?! Ugh. W-why didn't you say something earlier!"
"Haha, sorry Leo. But that sort of thing is what makes you so very lovable!"
"Absolutely!"
"Hmph!" Laughs filled the sky just like sunlight of a bright new dawn. A cold dawn…
Within the warmth of her favorite chair, princess was enjoying her first cup of tea of the day. It tasted terrible after an exhausted night out in the cold. From time to time, she would feed another log to the fire, although half of the morning had passed.
On the opposite of her was Marx. The prince seemed much more comfortable than his sister, dozy even. Only by his sheer determination that could he keep his head up and his ear clear to hear the groans of Corrin – the lack of sleep had always devastated her:
"Please cheer up, sister! We've won against Xander, fair and square! There is nothing more to worry about. And we learned something today, too."
Corrin meticulously examined her brother. The moment he left his armor, Marx had returned to be a jocund boy as he always be.
"You don't seem as if you fight only for victory and honor alone, no?"
It was a question repeated dozens of chance in the past, and every time Marx's respond was the same:
"They are important, but there are also others to be of concern."
"…You will make a better lord than I do. Maybe Father will let you deal with the people... You know, I can ask Xander to propose you to take the role of a magistrate to Father"
"Sister…Do you think that we will have to fight the Hoshidan?"
"There is a lot of chance that will happen…."
"So then…Thank you for your offer, sister, but I'd rather take the path of the sword. If war breaks out, there are people who I want to protect."
Marx finished the cup of tea and stood up from his sitting:
"I should go back to my room now. Please try to have a sleep. I hope those dreams would not come back and haunt me today."
"You still have those dreams just like I do, Marx? Of Hoshidan men and women calling us their siblings?"
"Yes…I just don't don't know what is its meaning. I have never seen these people, but they looks so real…I can feel them…An omen, maybe? But is it bad or good?"
"Let's hope that a disaster is not waiting for us…Good night, brother."
"Good night."
And so we conclude the first chapter of a Fire Emblem Fate epic, "i F ate(s)" - strange name, isn't it? Even I don't know how to pronounce it.
As you can see, there are two avatars here: Corrin (female) and Marx (male). The question of why does the male one have the same name as Xander in the Japanese version will be answered in the future.
Most people would have seen this coming: This story will follow both the Conquest and Birthright route, before the cast merge for Revelation. But warn you, if this chapter is any indication, over three-fourth of this story will be original content. Fate, while its story might seem over-melodramatic to Awakening and the games before, is actually a step forward in that it provides a wonderful framework for the fanfic writers to work on.
Anyway, I sorry if this chapter is too prolix and temporal - my writing changed from time to time within the same chapter. If you have any constructive comment, please write on the comment box below. And if my story amuse you, please follow or/and favorite it.
Thanks you for reading!