The Verge of History
'Either through fortune or fate, they found him in a plain near Southtown, too far from the road and too removed from the farmers' fields for someone to simply happen upon him. But I thank Divinity every day that Lord Chrom was blessed with both legendary benevolence and keen eyes, and I shudder how history would have unfolded had he not...' - From the desk of Harriett the Scrivener, First Scribe of Ylisstol.
It was a pastorale day like any other that spring. The smell of Farmer Stockwell's freshly-tilled soil carried across the lake of grass with the gentle wind. The hum of a cicada droned on, its monotony broken by the occasional chirp of a bird, perched among the branches of one of the few trees which dotted the landscape.
Red Ditch Road separated the farmer's field from the expanse wild long grass which slowly climbed into the low hills, a frequent passage for those making the trip northward into Southtown from the coast, or perhaps from of the smaller farming communities which were lightly sprinkled all along the way. For all the traffic the Red Ditch Road saw, every single one of its travelers would have been forgiven for not even noticing the body pressed into the grass, laying there for what could have easily been days.
"Chrom, we have to do something!"The plea came from a girl of modest height, not at all dressed for travel, even in the late spring air. She knelt on the grass next to the young man's body, which was comfortably slumped on his side, a clover pressed into his cheek and flecks of dirt all along his flank.
"What do you propose we do?" A tall man, standing straight and staring down at the unconscious man, responded.
"I," the flaxen-haired girl stammered, "I don't know." Again, her tone was pleading.
"Hold on, he's coming around." The tall gentleman, the one the girl called 'Chrom', knelt as the man in the grass rolled on his side, going flat onto his back. Slowly, his eyes flickered open, squinting as the bright sun blinded him. "I see you're awake now. There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know." Chrom received only a dreary grunt in response, so he continued. "Though I suppose, in a way, it's a good thing. If you were beneath one of those trees, we might have thought nothing of it. A farmhand out for a nap."
The words seemed to coax the man into proper alertness, as his eyes clarified and he attempted to sit up straight, though it seemed a task of great difficulty. Chrom offered his hand, and pulled him to his feet.
"Are you alright?"
The man brushed at his clothing, pulling away bits of grass which had stuck to his coat. An unusually nice coat for someone in a rural county. Finally, he spoke. "I believe so. Thank you, Chrom."
Chrom and another man, one which had been standing three or so paces behind to watch the scene unfold, exchanged a brief glance. "You know who I am?" Chrom asked, turning away from the armored cohort of his.
The young man in the coat smiled uncomfortably. "No, not really. I thought I heard your name as I was coming to." He did not miss the skeptical narrowing of eyes from Chrom's armored man from over his shoulder.
Chrom nodded, and cracked a small smile. It was a welcoming look. "Well, yes. My name is Chrom. This is my sister, Lissa. Back there is my lieutenant, Frederick. My I ask your name, sir?"
The man squinted for a moment, and sifted through his thoughts. It was like sifting through a murky pond for a dropped coin, and it his frustration showed upon his face. Then a small look of panic.
"I can't remember anything."
The girl, Lissa, looked visibly concerned, and rocked back and forth where she stood. Frederick, however, scoffed.
"Robin." He said after a long moment of panning his mind for answers. "It's the only name I know. I think my name is Robin."
"You think?" Lissa queried. It was not meant to come across as skeptical, but the man calling himself Robin winced nonetheless.
Chrom stepped forward again, and put a hand on Robin's shoulder, a compassionate look in his eye. "You don't remember a thing? Not what you were doing in this field before we found you?"
Another long pause followed as Robin tried to search for answers. The blood rushed from his cheeks, as each little attempt to snag a memory from his brain came up frustratingly empty. The frightening realization of an empty mind set in quickly. "No," he mumbled meekly.
"Oh please." Frederick stepped forward, the plates of his armor scraping together and clanking as he walked next to Chrom. "My lord, you cannot put value on the words of this man. He is likely playing you as the fool, part of some highwayman's ruse to have you drop your guard before he robs you blind."
Robin stood straight, flinching at the suggestion. "No, I swear! I don't even know who I am, let alone where we are or," he stopped himself mid-sentence. "Did you address him as 'lord', sir? And, and..." He looked to the youthful lady.
Chrom's smile returned. "He did. My sister and I are the prince and princess of the Halidom of Ylisse. Where you currently stand."
Robin sunk to one knee immediately, and bowed his head. Lissa turned to Frederick, a proud look on her face. "See, Frederick? He knows the proper etiquette, at least. Can you say the same about a nasty cutthroat?"
Frederick clenched his jaw in frustration. "My lord, I insist this man will bring us nothing but trouble. I say knock the fool on the head and leave him where we found him. Or bring him in chains to Southtown, if we must."
Chrom folded his arms and took a step back, accompanying the gesture with a sigh. "No. No, I believe him." He looked up to address Robin directly, pulling him to his feet again. "Stop bowing. I believe you, Robin. You're lost, and confused."
"He's probably a drunk!" Frederick interjected again. This time, Chrom shot him a very dirty look.
"That's enough, Frederick. I want to at least see him to Southtown in one piece. We'll stop in at the Stockwell and the Holden farmsteads along the way. We'll ask them if they recognize him." When Frederick's look didn't change, Chrom kept on laying out his intention. "We will be in Southtown before noon regardless. Come on, let us be on our way."
The knight sighed, and grasped Lissa's hand, who was already attempting to lead Robin out of the field. "Very well, my lord. But I insist we search him for any concealed weapons or trickster's tools. At the very least."
Chrom pulled a strand of his dark blue hair off of his brow, and nodded. "Make it so."
"Thank you, Chrom," Robin said hurriedly, while shedding his coat, folding it over his arm to pass to Frederick. "Or rather, thank you for your kindness, my lord."
The prince raised his hand and shook his head. "No, no, none of that. Chrom will be fine, if you would." Shrugging off the honourific with a chuckle, he glanced over at Frederick, who was diligently going through the coat. A search of it turned up nothing, and though Chrom and Lissa regarded the news with relieved sighs, the knight was unconvinced. He looked over at Robin, now down to a simple tan undershirt, leather gloves and boots, and his grass stained trousers.
"My lord, my lady, I ask that you turn away." The pair exchanged glances, and a small look of realization washed over both Robin and Lissa.
"Frederick, no! Don't make him strip in the middle of nowhere!" Lissa protested, and Chrom shook his head in agreement.
Scoffing once again, Robin was instead patted down, and told to remove his own boots one at a time. He seemed, at least, to have the coordination to remain on one foot for an extended period. The search, once again, turned up nothing at all.
"Are you satisfied now, you overly cautious sod?" Lissa snapped, snatching Robin's coat for him and finally standing between the knight and the amnesiac, making a point of separating them with a push to Frederick's plated gut. He responded with silence, though he did nod slowly.
Chrom clasped his hands together triumphantly, "very well! Let us be off. Perhaps someone will have been worried sick about you in town, Robin."
"I'd like that," Robin said, more than a tad morosely.
Their trip into town took slightly more time than the prince had originally projected. Questioning the farmers was slow going, with Chrom insistent on doing a thorough job and Lissa urging not to traipse through the fields. Much to Robin's dismay, he was not recognized by either Farmer Stockwell or the sons of the Holden farm, though with the news that the prince himself was coming knocking, bottles of wine and jars of honey both were offered as excited gifts of favour. Chrom at first turned them down, but after some gentle prodding and a reminder that Robin may not have eaten in days, the four of them obtained a small basket of raspberries, which had been consumed completely before they arrived in Southtown in the early afternoon.
"My lord, may I ask what a prince and princess are doing nearly alone in the middle of the country?" Robin queried as they approached the outskirts of Southtown.
"Recruitment, actually." Chrom's answer was dripping with barely-contained enthusiasm. "I am not the crown prince, that honour belongs to our older sister, Exalt Emmeryn, who currently rules. I command an order of knights known as the Shepherds, of which both Lissa and Frederick are a part. We had made a trip south towards the coast to see about bringing new members into the fold."
Robin nodded, holding his tongue about their lack of success as Chrom continued.
"We don't have the need or wish to press anybody into service, and so even when we come up empty, it also lets us check the pulse of the people."
Proudly, Frederick interjected. "The Shepherds work to keep the realm safe without having to dip into the reserves of Ylisse' army, which cannot afford spread itself thin to keep the peace. To serve in the Shepherds is to protect the people. I understand their hesitance to join into our ranks, but, to me, there is no higher honour in the world."
For the first time, Robin smiled at Frederick. His conviction seemed a double-edged sword instead of a simple source uptight sneers. "If it turns out that I have no other place to go, I'd happily offer whatever I can to your order, my lord. It seems picking empty-headed wanderers of the ground is what you're for, and I owe the Shepherds for it."
Chrom smiled. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Robin. Perhaps your sweetheart in Southtown has been worried sick about you since last night, and this will all be over come the end of the week." The thought comforted Robin, and he sighed contentedly as they made their way into town.
Southtown was a pretty sprawl. Built into a hillside where a river rushed from the higher flats gradually into a ravine it had carved over the eons, the large community was almost perfectly bisected by the water. Beautiful stonework adored the bridges, which were almost as iconic of Southtown as the large chapel which loomed over the marketplace, serving as not only the religious centre, but also the town hall.
As the group crossed over into the markets, they first noticed the stalls were untended and devoid of people, and then they caught sight of the town's militia out in force, caught in a standoff on the bridge between the marketplace and the chapel. A few bodies were strewn about the market, evidence of a recent altercation. Chrom and Frederick advanced on the militia immediately, calling out toward them.
"What's the meaning of this?"
One of the soldiers turned to face the prince as he heard them, and raised a hand. "I'm sorry sir, but this is not a safe place for," he trailed off at the sight of both Chrom and Frederick's apparel, as well as a mark on the princes' exposed shoulder. "My lord!" He and a few of the others saluted. "My apologies! Captain Desmond of the Southtown guard. We're in the middle of a situation here."
The captain, dressed simply in a breastplate and kettle helmet, pointed towards the large chapel across the way. "The town was hit by raiders about a half hour ago. Based on their accents they could be Plegian mercenaries, or just foreign pillagers." Robin's confused look was not met with any explanation. "They took hostages in the initial attack and have them held in the cathedral. If we advance, they kill them."
Desmond gestured across the bridge, where five guards in mismatched but effective armor were stood primed across the bridge, axes in hand in the pikemen attempted an advance. Robin narrowed his eyes as he looked around, wandering a few steps away from the crowd and over to the stone railing which kept people from wandering into the river canal below. Lissa noticed, but did not follow.
"They also have guards positioned by the east and north doors into the cathedral. Even if we skirted the bridge, they're prepared, and they have the numbers to face us on both fronts," Desmond continued.
"Are you sure about that?" Robin spoke up, and nearly everyone turned their gaze upon him. He stepped back towards Chrom. "Look at how they're spread out. They're tight against corners and they haven't made a push into the markets." The Shepherds, puzzled, watched as he continued to address the captain. "Look at the buildings across the canal. Most of them are easily tall enough to house archers, and if they pushed you back into the market, they would easily be able to thin you at a distance. They're also remaining careful in the event you decide to field archers. In fact I believe they already think you did. Every one of them is covered at one angle, at least."
Desmond nodded, resting his spear behind his head. "How does that help us? We still can't charge them, I'm not letting them kill hostages."
Chrom, enthralled and curious, let this peculiar scene play itself out. Robin shook his head and continued. "I'd be nervous if I was in their position. They're probably trying to scour the town for riches, and plot an escape. I say you give them a spook. Make them reevaluate their plan."
Frederick shook his head. "If they get scared they may begin killing people."
Robin grinned. "Not if the prince of Ylisse announces he's arrived. That would give them plenty of reason to think their opposition just became insurmountable, and perhaps they'd be willing to bargain in exchange for the release of the hostages."
"Even if they do, I won't allow them to walk free!" Frederick protested.
"You wouldn't have to," Robin continued. "Lady Lissa and I aren't dressed like soldiers. I believe we could pass ourselves off as priests, get close enough to one of the side entrances, and secure the hostages as insurance for the militia to advance."
Desmond stood tall once again. "If it is alright with the Lord Chrom, the plan seems sound to me. You seem to know what you're doing, chap." The captain ran his fingers across his bushy moustache. "Though are you capable of fighting, sir, my lady? Forgive me but you seem a tad... Delicate for combat."
"I am not delicate!" Lissa announced defiantly. Chrom beamed proudly at his sister.
"I have no intention of getting us involved in the fighting. Just buy us time, and wait for a signal before advancing," Robin said.
Frederick whispered something Chrom's ear, only for the prince to bat him away much as a person would dissuade a fly from landing on them. "Very well, Robin. I trust you with both this plan and my sister. Though, Lissa, put Frederick's heart at ease and bring the logging hatchet with you." Robin's eyes widened nervously. "Just in case." Chrom's smile was just playful enough to send a pang down Robin's back. Lissa gripped the axe and pulled her ill-fitting cloak over her dress, hiding the axe beneath. "Now then, Robin, how would you have us negotiate?"
The rest of the plan was spelled out rather quickly, and as Robin and Lissa slipped out of the market and into a side street, they heard Chrom's announcement that he had arrived to the raiders. The pair made their way through the streets quietly, the eerie silence of a down hidden behind their shutters settling in.
"Robin?" Lissa quietly spoke up from beneath her hood. "How did you come up with all that?"
From behind his own hood, Robin shook his head. "It just seemed like the correct thing to do."
"I hope you're right." She looked down briefly. "I don't want Frederick to be right about you. It does seem a bit suspicious, you know?"
The young man nodded. "I do, I do. But," he sighed. "I feel trapped in my head right now. Like there are memories in here that are impossible latch onto, despite being right within reach. I'm somebody, I have to be. Back there? That made me feel," he searched for the word, "correct."
Lissa looked up at him for a long moment, then cracked into a smile very different then her carefree, playful grin. On her face was certainty. "Okay. Right! Let's go save those people." A skip in her stride, she lead on as they wound through the tight alleyways of Southtown, crossed the canal, and a few minutes later were standing across from the only guard standing outside the east entrance of the cathedral.
"Ready?" Lissa asked Robin. He nodded, glad to know he wasn't the sole arbiter of their place in the plan any longer. The girl wandered up to the guard, head bowed.
"No closer!" The brigand shouted, readying his axe. Lissa shot a wink at Robin from beneath her cloak, and steadily tittered her way towards him. Withdrawing her hood from her head, letting it fall to her shoulders, he seemed to hesitate briefly. "Get out of here, little girl. Or I'll tie you to the pews like the rest of 'em."
Robin watched uncertainly, desperately hoping to intervene, though it wasn't like he was any more capable of fighting than he was a moment earlier when he formulated the plan. He breathed in, and waited for her to put on the priestly act.
What he saw instead was Lissa slide the hatchet out of her sleeve and with a blinding flash of speed, slam it against the side of the ruffian's head, the butt of the axe head colliding with his temple with a sickening crack, one that made Robin squirm in his coat. The man fell to the ground in a heap, either incapacitated or dead, and the realization made Robin's stomach almost leap into his throat. It took him a moment to get himself together, realizing Lissa was already dragging the body from the door into the alley.
"Well, that's that," she muttered disgustedly, hiding the brigand out of plain sight. Turning up towards Robin's shocked expression, she shrugged. "I know." She pulled her hood up again, a grim absence of a smile on her face. "I don't like it either," she continued, and pulled out a small metal pendant, which shared its chain with a small whistle. Humming a quiet prayer under her breath as she placed a hand on the side of the brigand's bleeding head, glittering sparkles of light jumped from her fingers, and in a blood-curdling display, the bone seemed to repair and restructure itself, the wound closing.
Robin continued to watch in astonishment, but found himself compelled to speak up. "The plan was to talk our way in for good reason, you know." He pauses while she held up a hand, then went on as she stood again. "I didn't want to get anybody into unnecessary danger."
Lissa nodded, but began marching towards the door again. "This is what being a Shepherd is, sometimes. Frederick warned me not to take chances when an opportunity showed itself like that, and I didn't."
The inside of the chapel was to be expected. A large hall bathed in the coloured light of the sun, filtered through the beautiful stained glass window in the upper levels. Rows of pews extended from an altar on the west wall, upon which were two dozen odd villagers, all frightened and huddled together, the majority of them roped to the heavy wooden benches. A lone guard, a tall man brandishing a boarding axe, was on the far side of them when he saw Lissa and Robin enter, and began shouting at them.
"What do you think you're doing, sister? You're going to get these people up and killed if you don't step right back out that door, now!"
"No," Lissa drew the hatchet again, and charged the large man. Robin didn't have time to watch the melee, as he caught the slightest bit of movement out of the corner of his eye, another hostage taker lunging at him with a short blade from the right.
Reflex took over, but Robin didn't flee or duck away. He sidestepped the blade, and his fingers twisted into a quick little movement. A powerful bolt of static jumped from his outstretched fingertips and into the assailant's ribs, causing him to immediately fall to the ground, convulsing a couple of times before ceasing movement entirely. Robin looked down at him, adrenaline still pumping, and in a snap decision, he spun on his heel, calling toward Lissa.
"Princess! Down!" She was in the middle of ducking and dodging away from the large criminal's blows, which proved to be a far greater threat than she'd anticipated. At Robin's call, she instead leaped backwards, only for her attacker to be consumed in the same arcs of electricity called a second earlier. It wasn't enough to drop him immediately, but a follow up axe blade to the belly was. A few of the hostages yelped at the sight, and Robin went to tend to them.
Lissa, however, removed the whistle around her neck once again, and blew into it. Normally the pleasant little sound would call a sheep dog, but in this instance, it was the signal which called the militia and the other Shepherds to charge. Screams of panic from the raiders were heard from outside the church, and the call to kill the prisoners went unanswered by their fallen cohorts. A few went to flee inside, only to be cut down by Chrom himself.
It took some time to gather up the fleeing bandits, the militia being aided by Frederick. To be rescued by the prince and princess sent a surge of excitement among the captured villagers, and soon there was plenty of gossiping and giddy chatter among them. Before long, order returned to Southtown.
Lissa was recounting their version of events to Frederick excitedly, as Chrom returned from debriefing the captain. "One second he was standing there with a silly, dumb look on his face, and then next he was calling down lighting from the sky!"
The stern knight didn't appear to be much enthralled by the embellished tale, though "I am glad his plan went off without anybody beyond these outlaws getting hurt," he said. "Robin, you are an unusual fellow, but I do believe you've at least proven your trustworthiness."
With a relieved smile, Robin bowed his head to Frederick. "Thank you, sir."
Chrom pulled on the young man's shoulder proudly, and patted him on the back. "Good to see that your reflexes still have their memory. You're quite the magician, Robin."
Robin bowed his head again, this time much deeper. "Is everybody else well?"
The prince nodded. "Yes, yes. Desmond will be throwing the surviving raiders, including their leader, into the cells. They're not speaking as of yet, but he seems to think that they were hired by Plegia to plunder the town's treasury, as well as sow some discord among the populace." Chrom was speaking more to Frederick and Lissa now, rather than assuring Robin. "I'd like to stay the night to see if Desmond can get any more information for us to bring back to the capital, before setting out in the morning."
Frederick cleared his throat, wordlessly interjecting his opinion. Chrom nodded. "I understand this puts us behind schedule, but I think it's worth looking into, don't you?"
Lissa rocked on her heels as she nodded. "I do! It would be nice to get a decent meal again. I haven't had anything but rations and campfire rabbit for a week and a half!"
The rest of the day was mostly busywork. Plenty of villagers had nothing but thanks and praise for the Shepherds, the militia had to reorganize and clean up the marketplace from the attack, and the town treasury had to be accounted for. Robin felt rather useless in the business of the aftermath, but at the same time, he was already starting to feel less frustrated with his uncooperative mind, even with the disappointing lack of anybody in the town who recognized him. Before the end of the day, he found Chrom and assured him that what he'd said before they arrived in Southtown had been genuine. He had every intention of remaining with the Shepherds until he knew where it was he belonged.
