Welcome to the prologue for Fire Emblem: Hero of Shadow. This will (hopefully) be my first multi-chapter fanfiction project, and will be a novelization of the game Fire Emblem: New Mystery of the Emblem Heroes of Light and Shadow. I will, for the most part, go along with plot events and try to keep everything as canon as possible, but I will take a few creative liberties. Most notably, I will be changing around Kris' personality, and giving him a couple extra plot developments to the point that he might as well be an OC, but I believe this is excusable since that is more-or-less the role that Kris serves within the game, and has little personality of his own. I will be adding one actual OC to the story, but his impact on the plot will largely be limited to Kris and Katarina's arc, and any changes I make will not affect the overall plot of the original game (too much at least). As the title and summary implies, this will focus mostly on the Seventh Platoon, especially Kris and Katarina. If any of what I have mentioned up to now bothers you, feel free to stop reading, if it doesn't bother you, feel free to read it, and I hope you love it and/or provide me with constructive criticism so that I can improve.

Thanks in advance, and I sincerely hope that you enjoy this fanfic.

(On a side-note, I wasn't going to post this for some time, but I decided to post it in honor of Robin and Lucina being confirmed for Smash Bros. GET HYPE!)

P.S. Don't expect updates to be regular, or fast.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fire Emblem, or any of the characters used here, you already know all this.

-Ramix


The halls of her home were almost pitch black. There was not a single torch to be found along the long and narrow corridors, nor where there any windows to allow the light of the surface to enter her bleak little world. This was not a problem for Eine, nor was it a problem any of her brothers and sisters. She was their light, what more could they possibly ask for? They were all worthless children that no one else had wanted, that had been thrown out into a cold, cruel world. It would be ungrateful of them to even expect anything more than what she had already given them.

This was the reason why Eine was running through the halls so quickly that her legs hurt. Her breath came out in short gasps and she sweat like a pig despite the cold of her home. Her violet cape fluttered behind her as she flailed her arms, and her thigh-high boots clung to her legs like a second skin. At last, she reached the door to Lady Eremiya's room, as she took a second to breath and push a lock of stray purple hair out of her eyes, Eine could hear faint chatter between Lady Eremiya and someone else behind the closed doorway.

"Yes, Master, all is going according to plan. We shall soon be ready."

"Have you prepared a suitable candidate? Be sure you get this right, if you succeed then we can nip the prince in the bud before he has the chance to interfere with my plans again. Do not fail me."

Eine slowly slid open the door, careful not to interrupt her mistress, and stepped inside just as Lady Eremiya's superior vanished in a flash of red light. The room in which the matron conducted her personal business was small and plain, several cabinets and chests laid upon the walls across the room, and a single golden throne stood in the center. Eremiya turned around to face Eine with a warm smile on her face.

"Lady...Eremiya...you called for me?" Eine asked in between breaths.

Eremiya walked up to Eine and gently laid a hand on the side of her face. Eine recoiled for a second before relaxing.

"Look at you, Eine, you were in such a hurry to heed my call that you're out of breath. Perfect. If only the rest of my children were so grateful."

"My lady, we all love you, truly, we do. I can only ask that you give all of my brothers and sisters the chance to prove their love, like you have done with me."

Eremiya erupted into jovial laughter and clasped her hands together. "Oh my dear girl: loyal, smart, respectful, polite, and kind as well, you are such a wonderful child. Oh yes, you were definitely the right choice for this mission."

Eine beamed at the praise and looked up with bright eyes at her mistress. "My lady, what would you ask of me? I promise, I will not fail you."

"Oh, I know you won't." Eremiya's warm smile vanished in an instant, leaving a cold grimace and a frightening stare as she bent down to look directly into Eine's eyes.

"Because if you do..." Like a wild animal pouncing on it's prey, Eremiya's hands shot up and gripped Eine's hair, the young woman winced in pain and let out a small whimper in spite of herself. "...Then I will have no choice but to punish you."

"I won't disappoint you, my lady." Eine squeaked out, trying to mask her pain.

As quickly as it had appeared, Eremiya's viciousness had vanished, and her face became a cold, emotionless mask as she released Eine's hair and turned around to walk towards one of the chests in the room. Eine stumbled for a second, and quickly scrambled to get back on her feet before Lady Eremiya could see her weakness, blinking and rubbing away tears that had begun to form in her eyes.

"Your mission, Eine..." Eremiya pulled out a key from the folds of her robes and opened a chest "...Is to assassinate Prince Marth of Altea. You will have back-up on this mission, but you are to direct it alone, and you are fully responsible for making sure it succeeds.."

Eine's eyes widened in shock. Assassinate Prince Marth? She had been tasked with killing nobility before, but it had always been as backup to Kleine, and each of her targets had been vulnerable, away from their usual security. Assassinating the Hero Prince of Altea would be...

"H-how will I do it?" Eine asked meekly.

"That is up to you Eine." Eremiya pulled a long silk scarf out from the chest, it was a deep purple that matched Eine's orchid and indigo outfit. "I chose you for this not because you are the strongest of my children, but because you are the smartest. Put that mind of yours to use, I will provide you with the resources you need, and you will formulate and execute a plan to kill the Prince. Have I made myself clear?"

Eine shuddered in spite of herself. This was beyond her, she wasn't ready for such a mission, but if she told her mistress that now...

"I-I'll do it. I will not fail."

Eremiya smiled warmly once again, wrapping the scarf around Eine's neck. "I know you won't my dear, and should you ever falter, or lose your way: think of this scarf..." She tightened the scarf around Eine's neck to the point of suffocating the young girl. "...It is my embrace. Let that be your motivation."

Eine's hands grasped at the scarf to loosen it. "Y-yes my lady."


A young man stood in the courtyard of his home. His family's abode was certainly not the largest in Altea, but it was still much bigger than most of the other houses in the village. His three story home was made of stone, unlike most of the other houses in his village which were made of wood, the courtyard took up more space than some of the houses in the village, and was filled with training equipment, a reward for several generations of loyal service and knighthood. The man, Luke, unsheathed his sword and gazed at it for a few seconds. He saw his reflection on the blade and grinned. Deep blue eyes, dark green hair, nice nose, a winning smile, killer biceps, and soon he'd be a knight, too. The ladies would be running to him in packs. Luke's grin faded as he failed to convince himself that that was the reason he was training to become a knight.

Grunting, Luke walked over to the nearest training dummy and swung his sword in a wide arc, decapitating it with one swing.

Luke groaned. "This is boring, I don't get why I have to waste my time with these things, it's not like I'm gonna learn anything from hitting a wooden doll."

Just then, he heard the sound of grunting accompanied by the familiar 'swoosh' of a weapon being swung. With his interest piqued, Luke looked at his house and checked for any signs that his parents might have woken up from their nap, when he was satisfied that he wouldn't be caught he jumped over his fence and set out in search of his future training partner.

After walking down the streets of his village for a few minutes, Luke found his target. The young knight-in-training was tall, almost as tall as Luke, he had rich brown hair and deep brown eyes and was training in full armor, he wore ornate green plate mail that seemed truly fit for a knight, and he swung around an iron lance, thrusting and sweeping at thin air. His stern expression showed that he was far more serious about his training than Luke was and judging by the home that he was standing in front of, a small wooden shack, Luke figured that the potential knight wasn't from a particularly wealthy family.

So, a poor family spends their money on equipment for their son so that he can go out and become a knight to raise the family's standing. A good reason if I've ever heard one. Luke thought.

Luke approached the young man, but the man's head snapped up before he could say anything.

"What do you want, I'm a bit busy right now."

"Hey, there's no need for hostilities, buddy. The name's Luke, Luke Edelson. I couldn't help but hear you training, and I figured that since I'm also training, we could probably learn more if we worked together."

The young trainee lowered his lance and relaxed his posture, his expression softened at last, though not very much. "I see...so you're training to become a knight as well, then?"

Luke smiled. "That's right, so what better way for two future knights to practice than by sparring with each other?"

The young man contemplated this for a moment before nodding and turning around to walk back into his house.

"Huh? Hey, where are you going?!" Luke reached out, but the young man soon stepped back outside, he had taken off his armor, and was carrying two wooden weapons in his arms, a sword and a lance, he tossed the sword to Luke and spun the lance around before assuming a combat-stance. Luke caught the sword in his hand and tested it's weight a bit before mirroring his opponent.

"Before we begin," Said Luke, rolling his shoulders in preparation. "Why don't you tell me your name?"

"Rody, my name is Rody Arbeit."

Luke grinned. "You know, Rody, this could be the beginning of something great. A rivalry that's gonna go down in histo-"

Luke was cut off as Rody swung his lance towards him, the knight-to-be barely managed to bring his blade up to block.

"Perhaps you should focus more on the fight before you start thinking about going down in history."

"Oh, this is gonna be awesome!"


Ryan took a deep breath, aimed his bow, and let the arrow loose, he missed the bull's-eye by a couple inches and released the breath he was holding in as a sigh of relief. He was improving.

The young man had short green hair, along with a face and stature that made him look much younger than a seventeen-year-old boy had any right to be. He wore light leather armor with a single piece of plate mail covering his heart, and was adjusting his bow as he trained to become a knight of Altea, he shared all of these traits with his older brother, Gordin. While most people in his position would've been unhappy about this, Ryan didn't resent his brother at all. Quite the opposite, in fact, he believed it was an honor to be following in his brother's footsteps; Altea's master of bows who had helped Prince Marth save the world from the Shadow Dragon, he was proud to be living up to that legacy.

Well, at least he was attempting to live up to that legacy. Ryan took another deep breath, and aimed his bow at the target once again. This arrow was a bit closer to the bull's-eye but it wasn't quite there just yet. Ryan's shoulder slumped, as he compared the target to the one his big brother used. Thirteen arrows were stuck in the target, eight of them were perfect bull's-eyes, three of them were barely off by a centimeter, and the other two were off by a few inches, while most of Ryan's arrows had landed inches away from the bull's-eye. Ryan sighed, even if he was proud to be following in his brother's footsteps, it didn't mean it was going to be easy for him.


Cecille ducked to the side and threw a quick punch at her opponent's gut, her fist connected with the man's mid-section and the breath was knocked out of his lungs. As the man's hands went to his stomach, Cecille took advantage of the opening to send a punch towards his face, but her opponent revealed his feint and caught her fist in his much-larger hand. Cecille struggled to get loose, but she couldn't free her fist, meanwhile, the man swung his free hand to try and punch her in the face, but Cecille ducked just in time. Her opponent continued swinging wildly at her with his unoccupied hand while she kept on trying to free herself, to no avail. Eventually, the man grabbed Cecille's other hand, and spread her arms apart, with Cecille defenseless, the man threw his head back to headbutt her, but Cecille seized the opening to knee him in the stomach. This time, the man's reaction was real; he let go of both of her hands to clutch his stomach, while Cecille put her newly freed hands to use by slamming her knuckles on either side of the man's head. With her opponent disoriented, Cecille threw a kick, the sole of her boot connecting with the man's face, and he fell to the ground.

Cecille, the victorious red-haired beauty stood tall and proud over her opponent. A white cloth headband, soaked with sweat, was wrapped around her forehead, covered by a short fringe, and tied on the left side, the bow uncovered. Her crimson hair was styled to the right, covering her temple, and neatly framing her right eye, while the left side of her head was left near-completely uncovered, with only a short strand descending down to hang between her left temple and eye. She wore a baggy leather shirt and pants that had been her standard training gear for years, one of her sleeves had been ripped off, and her pants exposed her kneecaps.

"Alright, who's up next then?!" She roared, eager to continue fighting.

In response, a tall and lean man stepped forward, holding a wooden-training lance in each hand. He tossed one to Cecille, which she caught and twirled around before assuming a battle-stance. Her opponent wasted no time in charging her and thrusting his lance forward, which Cecille knocked aside with her own weapon, the lady warrior swung her lance downwards, but her opponent blocked with the shaft of his weapon and pushed her back, she recovered with ease and began thrusting her weapon quickly, trying to break through her opponent's guard, but he managed to block each of her blows expertly, though not without some struggle. Seizing an opening, her opponent swatted away Cecille's lance with his own then swiped at her head, Cecille countered with a swing from her own lance, but when the tips of the two weapon's collided, her wooden spearhead shattered.

With a gasp, Cecille leapt to avoid a sweep that aimed to knock her off her feet. Glaring at her broken weapon, she grunted before brandishing it once again, daring her opponent to attack her.

"You can't be serious." He said, before whipping his own lance forward. When Cecille maintained her stance, her opponent shrugged and started charging at her. "If that's the way you want it, who am I to deny you a loss?"

Cecille charged at her opponent in spite of her damaged weapon, but before they could clash, she stabbed her broken weapon into the ground and used it to vault forward, kicking her opponent in the face. As Cecille's kick connected with his face, her opponent fell to the ground and his weapon went flying out of his hands, she grabbed it as she landed and pointed the tip at her opponent's throat, she smiled victoriously as her foe got up and walked away.

A middle-aged man with a white beard approached her next. In his hands were two wooden training swords, one of which he tossed to Cecille, who caught it after tossing away the lance.

"Think you're ready, Cecille?" The man spun the sword in his hand and entered a battle stance.

"When you are, Father." Cecille took her own one-handed stance and charged at her father, their weapons clashed mid-way.

Cecille knew full well how skilled her father was, he had taught her everything she knew, so as she met her father blow for blow, dodging what she couldn't parry, she was fully aware that she wouldn't last in a prolonged fight against him. Cecille saw a chance and seized it, as her father drew his sword back for a slash that would surely destroy her own weapon, she jumped over him and avoided the attack, she somersaulted and landed behind her father, and as he turned around, Cecille hit him right above the heart with the tip of her weapon. Her father looked down in confusion for a second, then he looked up at Cecille and smiled.

"My daughter, my dear daughter, you have grown beyond even my wildest hopes. You have defeated me, and both of your brothers, I know now without a doubt that you will become the greatest knight our family has ever seen. Remember this however, many of the men will look down on you, but you must ignore them, and become a great paladin of Altea!" Her father punctuated his point by pounding his fist into his palm.

"Ha! Forget about ignoring them," Her younger brother came up behind her, rubbing his temples where she had hit him. "Just kick their butts like you did to us!"

Her elder brother also approached her, carrying the two discarded training spears. "Yes, but maybe you should save that for the enemies of our kingdom."

"Enemies?" Her younger brother scoffed. "What enemies?"

"While we may be at peace now, there is no telling when war will erupt again." Cecille's father turned to her. "That is why it is important that you become a great knight Cecille, so that when Altea's time of need arrives, you can be there help us."

Cecille nodded and beamed with pride. "Just watch me, I'll become the greatest knight Altea has ever known, and if any man doubts me, I'll just prove 'em wrong!"


A young man sat alone in the kitchen of his home, eating a loaf of bread. He was tall, well built, and he had a pale complexion, with messy, pitch-black hair that went down to his neck in the back, while the unkempt and pointed tips covered his eyes and ears. His name was Kris, and he stood up as he swallowed the last bite of his lunch and gulped down a glass of water; he had just finished his bi-daily training routine: three-hundred push-ups, eighty sit-ups, an hour of jogging to-and-from the forests and his home, and an hour of practicing his sword-play; a grueling training regimen that his grandfather, a former knight of Altea, had drilled into him.

Kris walked to his room and approached the mirror, he opened up one of his drawers and pulled out a small, ornate, silver hairpin encrusted with several small jewels. He pulled up his hair with one hand and stuck the pin in his hairline with the other, in an instant, his messy hair had stood and spiked up, pulling all the hair out of his eyes and ears and styling it into several spikes pointing away from him, uncovering his piercing golden eyes and leaving the small pin concealed by his hair. The hairpin had been a trinket that his grandfather had bought for him when he asked for it under the pretense of getting his hair out of his face for training, in truth, Kris just thought his hair looked good spiked up.

After getting his hair ready, Kris began putting on his combat equipment. Most of it he was already wearing: a thick blue shirt with that split in two down the middle to reach down and cover his legs, stopping just above his knees and accented with yellow lines, a blue scarf, light blue pants. leather boots, a single leather glove on his right hand, a belt with a small leather pouch attached, and a leather harness over his shirt. Kris reached into a trunk and pulled out the pieces of armor that his grandfather had bought for him, he attached a small steel breastplate to the leather harness, adding armor over his pectorals, and then he took out a pair of bronze pauldrons and put them on either shoulder, finally, Kris unsheathed the large steel sword that his grandfather had commissioned especially for him in order to celebrate his departure to apply as a knight of Altea, admiring the blade.

After giving Kris his sword, his grandfather prepared a large meal for them both and wished him the best of luck in becoming a knight, then went to sleep. The next morning, Kris' grandfather did not awaken.

After finishing his preparations, Kris sheathed his blade again and stuck it on his back, then began trekking towards the nearby forest where thirteen years ago, Kris had stood together with his grandfather, wielding a sword for the first time in his life.

Kris struggled to regain his balance after hefting up the massive iron sword that his grandfather had given to him in order to begin his training at the tender age of eight years.

"Grandpa, there's no way I can wield this thing, it's huge!"

Kris' grandfather, Sir Maclir, chuckled. "Nonsense, I've seen people half my size wield swords twice my size, so don't start using your being small as an excuse." In truth, the iron sword was relatively small, but to an eight-year-old child, anything would seem massive. "Besides, you said you wanted to get stronger didn't you? I seem to recall that you swore an oath to me, don't tell me you've already forgotten it."

Kris shook his head vigorously. "Become Altea's sword, acquire unbreakable strength and loyalty. That's what you told me to do, and I promised I'd do it, but how am I supposed to get any stronger if I can't even swing this thing?"

"Nonsense, just do as I say and you'll grow to be the mightiest knight Altea has ever known. Now, you see that tree?" Maclir pointed at a large and sturdy tree right behind Kris, who had to crane his neck as far as he could just to see the top of it. "I want you to cut down that tree."

Kris' jaw dropped. "What?! How am I supposed to do that when I can't swing this sword?"

"Don't be silly, of course you can swing it, now turn around and cut that tree down in one swing."

Kris grit his teeth and hefted the large weapon onto his shoulder, then used all of his strength to slash at the tree. To his surprise, Kris managed to swing the sword and hit the tree, but he barely managed to cut through the bark. Kris dropped the sword and hung his head in shame.

"I couldn't do it..."

"That's right." Said his grandfather in a kind tone. "Do you know why?"

Kris' shoulders slumped and he sat down on the ground. "Because I'm weak?"

"Yes, right now, you are weak." Maclir put his hands on his hips. "But when I'm done training you, you won't be weak anymore. I want you to remember this moment, because when your training is complete and you've become strong, you will come back here and cut down that tree, and you will see how much stronger you've become. Understood?"

Kris looked up at his grandfather in awe for a moment before getting to his feet and straightening his posture, his eyes narrowed in determination. "Yes, I understand grandfather!"

"Good!" Maclir beamed with pride and turned around to pull out two wooden practice sword from a bush, tossing one of them to Kris. "Until you can wield a real blade, we'll practice with these. First things first, we've got to teach you how to properly hold one of these and work on your stance."

Now, Kris was alone in the forest, in front of his grandfather's headstone, standing on the ground where he had buried the man who had raised him, cared for him, taught him, and molded him into what he was today. Kris turned around and unsheathed his sword, then stared at the tall and sturdy tree that he had failed to cut down when he had first started training. Kris knelt down to examine the cut he had made, even though the tree had continued to grow, he could still see the faint mark on the bark of the tree. Getting to his feet and gripping his sword with both hands, Kris swung his blade and hit the tree right where he had cut all those years ago, this time his blade tore through it in one clean slice. Then as the large trunk began descending, Kris slashed upwards and cut the tree in two, and with a jump back and another upwards slice, he cut the tree into three neat pieces, which fell to the ground around him. Kris sheathed his sword and smirked.

"A fine blade, and the skills to use it, you've given me much grandfather. I'll be sure to put it to good use." Kris looked at the stump of the tree he had just cut down and chuckled. "And to think that I could barely even hit that thing before, I sure have grown. Watch over me old man, I'm going to make you proud!"