Disclaimer: I don't own fire Emblem, blah blah blah.

Prologue: Descent into Tyranny

"Humph." A somber zephyr blew throughout the house; the windows and the doors of the classical Japanese abode had been thrown open to let the breeze in. The origin of the sound so soft that the breeze silenced it was lying down in the middle of the room. The boy, mayhap sixteen at the most, stared straight up at the ceiling as if something amazing was going to happen. His skin, matching the white walls, was almost deathly pale, as if he was perpetually hanging on the brink. He sniffled a bit, and stood up. The wind played a bit with his slate gray hair, his green eyes flickered towards the wall.

Mounted upon that very wall were a weapon, a sword, and a family heirloom. He walked over to it silently, almost reverently, and removed it from its notch on the wall. Shifting it from hand to hand, he swung at the air in front of him in a mockery of swordplay, before the first sign of any sort of emotion crossed his pallid visage. Looking towards the door affixed to the wall that pointed in the compass direction of southeast, he opened his mouth to speak.

"I know you're there. Three of you. By the looks of it, I don't know who you are. You'd better have a good reason to be here, lest I... dispose of you." His voice came out in a cold emulation of mirth, although one could tell that there was no happiness in him. His eyes were cold to anyone who looked into them; they would stay that way as long as he kept his emotions locked up in that tight little box, as long as he was he.

Exactly as he said, three people stepped through that same southwest door. They looked confident, that false look one gets when he had just gotten his tactical advantage taken away and had to put on a brave face. Perhaps it boosted their egos? More than likely, it was just because they were scared. "State your business."

The largest man slung his axe over his shoulder in an obvious attempt to intimidate the protagonist. Needless to say, it didn't work. "We're here for that bounty that's on your head."

That smile, that cold smile, grew in volume. "Well, now. It seems that I'm popular among the people these days." He took a step forward, and they held their ground. At least they could pretend to be unafraid properly. Then again, if they couldn't, they probably wouldn't even be here in the first place. His house wasn't situated in a very people-friendly zone.

The girl of the pack pointed her sword at the protagonist, whilst the other man nocked an arrow into his bow and aimed. "Now, now..." The protagonist muttered. "We don't want to get too hasty. I don't want to HURT anyone..." The way his eyes glinted when he said the word hurt could only be described as feral. His mouth had formed itself into a straight line, as he made eye contact with the axe wielder. The axe wielder glared back, which gave the impression that he was a very, very foolhardy man. "We now sentence the man known as Zenith to death!"

The axe wielder charged forth, and the bowman let loose an arrow at the same exact time. The lumbering frame of the axe-man didn't distract Zenith at all, as he gracefully moved to the side and let the arrow sing harmlessly past. The sword, which had only been lightly held with one had, now had two hands wrapped around its hilt. Zenith pivoted, and prepared to make a strike on the axe-man...

He diverted his sword's attention to the swordswoman, who had used a considerably quick pace to get behind him. The two blades clashed, locked together in a furious standstill, which neither could break. With the axe man's weapon ready to slam into his skull at any moment, and another arrow heading his way, Zenith had to commend them. They were at least competent. However, this fight would end there.

He ducked down and to the right, releasing all the pressure he was applying to the swordswoman's sword. Without anything to push up against, the swordswoman pitched forwards due to her center of gravity. She stumbled right into the path of the oncoming axe, and the arrow whizzed by right in front of her and above Zenith's head, lodging itself into the wall. A sick thwack was all it took for one of the teammates to accidentally kill their own. The surprise of both the axe-man and the bowman lent Zenith a few valuable seconds.

Reaching the inattentive bowman, Zenith raised his sword high above his head, slashing downwards. The results were none too pretty, as the bowman was effectively cleaved in half, the lightly armored man would probably ever be able to figure out what hit him.

Zenith sighed. "It's going to take a while to clean this mess up." The indifferent words were enough to send the axe-man into a berserker rage. He raised his axe high in the air, running as fast as he could towards the more petite man. It didn't take very long to reach him; the battle hadn't taken place in a very large room. However, Zenith had more than enough time to react, as his sword, poking straight out, was a spike on which the axe man impaled himself.

The loose sleeves of his long white shirt were now stained with the blood of his opponent. He looked at the already drying crimson fluid, and sighed. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the wayside, examining the room. "Yes. A long time indeed..."

-

The year was 1258. Only fifty years prior, the continent of Gandral had been in a total state of disarray. The three major countries that inhabited the continent were locked into a war of attrition. The giant state, Sohma, named for the royal family who lived there, had thought to take the two smaller countries of Euclid and Pythagorea, which were each located on opposite sides of the larger country. Due to the natural pincer attack, the countries were successful in driving Sohma's army back towards the center of their own country.

In an unprecedented move, the throne of one of the countries, Euclid, had been usurped from its rightful owner. It wasn't long after the coup d'etat that the smaller country surrendered to the bigger one. Euclid immediately pulled back their troops from the backside of the Sohma army. Without having to worry about the extra pressure of a large force behind them, Sohma could focus its entire wrath upon the inferior country of Pythagorea.

They gave ground stubbornly; the war had lasted for three long years after Euclid had pulled out. However, in the end of the long and bloody war, Sohma had emerged victorious over the country of Pythagorea. The ruler of Sohma ordered a public execution of the king and queen of Pythagorea, and placed one of his own vassals as the ruler of the country.

In the years that had past, a group of rebels formed under the name 'Freedom Lights'. The leader, shrouded in a veil of mystery, is said to be a god of combat, and not very easy to deal with. However, members of the group are scattered to the wind, said to be fighting against the tyrannical rule that they despise so much. The government ruled all the people with an iron fist, not slacking it to make living conditions passable for them.

Criminal activity ran rampant in the country of Pythagorean, and that's where all the criminals usually hung out. However, there were a few exceptions, such as the one that had happened only a year before. It seems that a young man who had been walking down a street in Sohma had been pushed on purpose by an upper-class and his, for lack of a better word, posse. However, they were quickly silence by the man's persuasive skills with the sword, leaving their words all over the payment... Along with their mangled bodies.

Since that incident, the Sohma country had put a bounty on the one known simply as 'Zenith's' head, while the rebel group seeked him out for help against the country who made the people lives miserable. Now was the time for them to act. If they could secure another great talent, a serious effort at taking on the Sohma country's military would be more than a dream.

Will Zenith help lead the continent down the path towards prosperity, or will he lead it to ruin?

END PROLOGUE