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BETA: STILL ME AND MY SILLY SELF, and Word.

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The Graces Among Ares

Prologue

Desperate Introductions

Hector was just about ready to get out of this place and provoke a fight to win, perhaps in the nearest village. This hut was anything but in sturdy condition. The dilapidated shack, Hector sneered and covered his nose with a cloth from his trouser pocket, was small, mold-heavy and unfit for even a peasant to walk into, never mind wait in.

Especially for idiot red-headed sons of a Marquess who were never on time.

"'Meet me at the shelter, my friend, it has been so long,'" Hector mimicked, purposely making his voice higher. "And where are you, Eliwood? You're late and not here wallowing in filth, as I!"

Hector withheld himself from more grumbling, as it required more air to speak. It would only bring more unnecessary filth into his lungs with each breath, no doubt poisoning him, and later on his deathbed they would remark, 'Oh, Lord Hector, a fool to your last breath.'

Hector's face turned mutinous. He was no fool.

Why he was still standing in here, Hector wondered inwardly, if he was not a fool? Waiting for an equal that obviously thought them on different grounds, because he was not on time? Eliwood, it seemed, believed his itinerary was the sun to people's Elibe, and that it was alright to break a promise months made in advance.

Thoughts such as those ran around Hector's mind, until he had had enough. Hector calmed his heavy breathing and yanked hand and cloth off his face. Stomping, he unslung Wolf Beil from his back and abandoned the damnable 'meeting' place.

He was going to prove that he was no fool. Even if only to himself.

Let Eliwood come, if he did, and wonder where Hector was.

No one assumed Hector's time was not precious or wasted on another needlessly. Not even presumptuous Eliwood.

It took a bit of time and effort, but Hector was nothing if not persistent. The walk towards the eastern way helped clear his head if only to turn the hot, heavy feeling in his heart to a minor distraction and sharpen his focus. It, unfortunately, did nothing for his sense of direction while under emotional upheaval.

He belatedly recalled that in the Kathelet region there was a village just beyond the mountains north of that shack, and it had perfectly suitable crime population to thrash, not being under Ostia's rule. Hector had been too enraged to think of much else but walking in any direction his feet chose, though.

Not pausing, he stayed on his path – his instincts had never steered him into situations he could not get out of.

"Who knows," Hector eyes alit with glee, "there could be opportunistic bandits just past my sight."

Wolf Beil, in hand, caught the sun around its sharp edges and gleamed.

The sun had reached its peak in the sky, two hours later, heating his armor stiflingly hot, which seared his skin through his sweat-soaked tunic. The insides of his leather boots and gloves were wet and slick, as well. The nape of his neck was trailing and gathering droplets from his hair to seep into the cloth of his travel cloak, staining it, no doubt, and making the fabric heavier than it should, which forced Hector to work at his steps.

All told, Hector was a happy young man, Wolf Beil held relaxed and ready over his shoulder. He could not stand the presence of environments that were not in pristine condition, but force him to endure in his own self-made filth and he enjoyed every moment of it.

It was his sweat, blood and tears, should he have the last, Hector thought, confident. Why not have pride while doing what you were fully capable of doing and everything that came with it?

It was around the next hour, as he rested himself against a large, jutting stone formation, sipping from his water skin, that he heard the cries of distress. Hector wiped his upper lip and straightened, turning to face the stretch of grassy path lands, and to the owner of the calls.

It was a young boy, barely looking out of ten years and two, running from the direction Hector was going toward.

The boy shouted, relieved when his eyes landed on Hector, "Oh, thank the Graces!" The boy with moss coloured hair rushed at him.

Hector side-stepped the boy's sudden lunge and the strange child grunted out, "Oomph!" He pushed himself away from the stone surface, and turned to Hector, uncaring, "Oh, please, sir! Please! My sister, they've got my sister! … Sir? Please! They're really mean men, cruel and vile. I managed to escape from where we were held and ran as fast as I could to get help from the town, but then I ran into you, and – and – Sir, please, you must help my sister! Please! She's the only family I have!"

Hector had turned to gaze in the direction where the child had come from, during the boy's discourse, frowning. The boy's shouts for Hector's attention abruptly stopped, his eyes shining with desperate hope, when Hector faced him.

Hector gave a sharp smile, "Is it challenging?"

The boy stared at him, as if he had never seen a sight like Hector, "… Very." He answered, hastily adding, "But my sister - !"

Hector waved a hand in a careless manner, already marching to his, yet unknown, destination.

"Yes, your sister. Don't worry," Hector turned to the boy, giving him a cocky grin, "Wolf Beil and I - we'll take any challenge that comes and strike through it!"

The boy stumbled toward him on unsteady legs and stopped, "You… my sister… you'll help? Really?" His expression rang of disbelief and of a person torn by too many broken promises.

Hector re-concentrated on his path and the battle ahead, blood already pumping for the thrill of it.

"I said that, already. I don't like repeating myself." Hector called back, looking toward the kid, "You coming?"

"Yes… Yes!" The boy repeated, louder, strength renewing itself with a burst in his ruby red eyes. He caught up quickly, "My name's Nils. Are you sure you want me coming?" Nils questioned, but did not look too keen on leaving now that he had been ushered to the opposite option.

"You wouldn't have been able to escape if you didn't have the skills, kid. Besides, I think you'll be beneficial to have around, you know where the place is and what's inside."

"My sister," The boy reaffirmed, nodding, gazing up at Hector. "I can help, too, in battle." He lifted a sheathed dirk up to Hector, and the lord glanced down.

Then, Hector's gaze moved to a dark orange bracer with fine gold work on Nils's left arm. Hector could see rune symbols so tight and delicately placed on it, they were nearly invisible to the naked, unknowing eye, on the metal's design. Nils's hands clenched his right side, then, and Hector noted a flute.

"You're a bard." Nils looked startled, then wary,

"You aren't mad?"

Hector raised one brow, facing forward, "That you didn't divulge that?" He shrugged, "Just don't do it again."

"… Yes, um…" Nils trailed off, red-faced. "… I didn't ask for your name, sir."

"Hector." Hector said, after a pause.

Nils smiled up at him and nodded, "… Hector. Yes, Sir Hector, I understand – I won't not say I'm a bard, anymore."

Hector laughed, side-long glancing, "Just point me in the direction, kid, and stop pretending to be naïve." Nils frowned and looked away, and Hector murmured quietly to himself, "Sir Hector, hm? … Better than 'Lord'. Heh."

Hector grinned.

This day, Hector thought fiercely, started downright awful and then morphed into an exciting and adventurous one. He was more than satisfied with how everything came about, even Eliwood's absence from the beginning, to a point.

He'd never be caught in the thick of this situation, which was looking to be an absolute mess – for the dastardly enemies – if not for Eliwood, and Hector's own impatience and hot temper.

Who said Hector was a fool?

A.N.: OH HECTOR, YOU IDIOT. Look before you leap… Did you really have to go head first without asking questions? WHERE'S YOUR BRAIN? Ah, well, look between the lines, folks – Hector's just showing deep down, he really is as chivalrous as he tries not to appear.

Edited: 05/28/2009. Hector is now wearing a travel cloak over everything else – after looking at the official art, I realized – "Oh, wait – his armor is blocking his cape's access to the nape of his neck." So, travel cloak it was.