I'll say this and I'll say it again!
Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN FIRE EMBLEM!! Jeez I hate these things!
Warning: There is a major possibility of coarse humor in this chapter. Once again, I'm not responsible for the bad images rolling through your head.
You have been warned.
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SPOILERS ABOUND!!!
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Lost Hearts
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The Pegasi Rider wasn't there anymore...
Mark just sat in his study, still staring out of his window. His apprentice, Gavin Firewind, was long gone. Possibly his apprentice is in the libary researching on long forgotten tactics.
The sun was setting. It will take merely moments until the crimson orb sets below the horizon.
Glancing toward the fire place, Mark sighed. The hearth was cold and empty.
"Fiora..."
His hand strayed toward a drawer in his desk, the one that was merely a few inches away from several lit candles. Sliding the mohagony wood back, he sought and burrowed for something. Something that was more precious to him than anything he ever valued.
It was something that he valued above his own life.
Finally, his hand found the item he was searching for. His callous fingers, well-worn from sword practice, held a single thin piece of blue cloth.
It was Fiora's old headband.
Holding the faded blue headband at eye level, Mark stared at it, drinking in every fiber and thread of the Pegasi Knight's gift.
"I've missed you..."
His fingers clutched the precious cloth tightly. Mark tilted the decanteur of brandy into his mug. After plugging the cork back in, he picked up his mug and knocked the alcohol back.
It had been almost three years. Three years since the fall of Nergal. Three years since almost everyone he knew and fought beside had been together.
Beneath saggy eyes, Mark's own blue eyes were somewhat foggy from both exhaustion and lack of sleep. Running his hands through his black hair, Mark gave a faint smile to the headband. Taking a deep breathe of the clothe, his grin grew.
"It still smells like her..."
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Gavin was no fool when he asked his master to bid him leave after tea. Working with the Master Tacitician who contibuted to the downfall of Nergal was an honor but keeping the same Mark from collapsing into deep stupor was a challenge.
He had been working by candle-light since tea in the dark and dusty library. Mark wasn't exactly the tidiest tactician around but within all these books ranging from the practical ("Tactics: Why You Should") to the... er... "interestingly diverting" as Mark once said ("The Sacaen Guide to Good Sex").
Gavin was flipping through a tome he just found on the desk. It was a romance novel that Mark was reading several days earlier but the end was rather tragic. Slamming the tome shut, Gavin rubbed his head.
Is this going to be tougher than just learning the "Weapon Triangle" and "Magic Trinity"?
Luckily for him, Gavin had many friends in the medical field.
At first, one suggested that Mark had probably insulted a woman and was condemned by Nemesis, the goddess of revenge. Gavin quickly discarded the theory. If that happened, then how come Mark isn't being hounded by some woman?
Another friend, a pharmicist, thought that Mark had an "emotional imbalance." Whatever the heck that was, Gavin also quickly tossed it out the window. As far as Gavin knew, Mark was most definitely right in the mind.
Others continued to suggest that Mark had a drinking problem. That was also quickly killed. The rest just continued with their musings until Gavin finally snapped and told them that perhaps his master is just being pensieve and nothing else.
That quickly made the others happy and he bade them farwell.
Flipping tome after tome about the human mind, Gavin's aquamarine eyes searched for his master's problem.
"Chemical imbalance... Mental disturbance... Pining... The heck is all this mess?" Gavin muttered as he tossed a tome onto a pile of growing books. All of them were of no use after being scoured by his quick eyes.
Picking up another book, Gavin sighed. When the heck is he ever going to find out what's wrong with Mark Sunfire, Master Tactician of Etruria?
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Fiora of Ilia continued her survey of the town where Etruria's finest Master Tactician was residing. If the rumors were true, then Mark Sunfire must be here.
It had been three years since she last saw the famed Master Tactician. She had given her old blue headband to him as a present.
Her blue eyes rolled as Fiora mind laughed at what a folly of a gift she gave to the Master Tactician. It would've been better to give such an honorable tactician a set of maps or a sword but Mark just laughed and took it with honor and pride.
A mighty wind blew her green hair around her as her pegasi swerved to compensate. Fiora leaned with her winged horse. Years of training had caused her instincts to move with the pegasi as one.
Yet there was one that she longed to be one with...
Her pegasi gave a snort as the cold wind continued to cut across their bodies. She and her horse were already used to Ilia's cold weather but the insane weather of Etruria was driving both of them crazy. Already their bodies were beginning to show signs of frostbite.
The sun was setting quickly, reducing vision. Fiora thought she saw a man clutching something in what looked like a study. The man's brown hair looked strikingly familiar but most Etrurians have dark hair.
Her pegasi gave another snort, this time with a impatient edge. Fiora knew exactly how her winged horse feels and empathizes with him. But her mission was important and she knows where Mark Sunfire might be.
She murmured something into the pegasi's ear. The pegasi immediately dove toward the earth. An inn with a welcoming glow from its windows was just merely below them. Surely there must be room left for a Pegasi Knight on a mission.
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Gavin's aquamarine eyes were getting heavier. Ever since he started reading tome after tome about the human mind, his mind felt like a great sponge filled with useless information.
The great pot of coffee he brought along earlier was definitely getting cold and Gavin was almost completely sure that the "caffeine" in it wasn't helping at all.
When the heck is he going to find out what's wrong with his master?
"Curses," the green-haired youth muttered as he discarded another tome onto a growing heap. "When the heck am I ever going to use reverse psychology for practical purposes?"
Picking up another tome, Gavin sighed as he tackled it. It was going to be a long night.
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Mark Sunfire, Master Tactician, was in the deepest stupor he had ever been in. It had been a while since he had last drank but knocking back brandy that was at least three times his age was completely stupid.
Wincing at the light glow of the candles, Mark rubbed his acheing temples.
"I need something to soothe this minor hangover," he muttered to himself as he slowly got up. The faded blue headband was still in his right hand as he used his left to steady himself.
He managed to toss several logs into the hearth without dropping one on his foot. Lighting the fire was simple. He found some dry tinder and promptly lit that with a nearby candle. Then he tossed the candle and the tinder on top of the pile of wood.
He stared into the burning fires for a moment. For a moment, he thought he saw a familiar face in the fire. But everytime he glanced at it again, it disappeared.
Mark fell back into a nearby chair, the ones that he usually reserves for guests. While his chair behind desk was rather comfortable, the guests have the privilege of slouching in chairs with padding that was more comfortable than his.
It must be that fact that he had been raised to live tough and be tough. Such comfort is usually reserved for the lords and ladies of Elibe.
Except maybe for Fiora...
The Master Tactician continued to sit there, pensievely. The glow of the fire soothed him where he felt somewhat drowsy. Already the pangs of a minor hangover were evaporating from him.
But he still thirsted for more drink.
He glanced at the faded blue headband that he had wrapped around his right hand. With sudden inspiration, he unwrapped it and bound it around his head.
Seizing his cloak from a nearby peg, Mark wrapped it around him. The place he had in mind was near and served rather excellent Ilian cuisine.
His foot was halfway out of the door when he stopped briefly. Should he leave a note behind for his apprentice to come fetch him from the "Soaring Pegasus" before the first hour in the morning?
Nah. Gavin will know why Mark Sunfire, Master Tactician of Etruria, is going to the "Soaring Pegasus."
It was just merely for a drink. And possibly companionship...
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"What?! You mean that I flew all the way from Ilia just for nothing?!" Fiora cried increduously at the innkeeper. The scarred old man glared at the angry Pegasi Knight.
"Ah'm sorry, milady," the gruff innkeeper grunted in reply. "But all the room left in the stables are taken. Yer winged horse will not be accomadated in dis establishment." Fiora brought out her personal dagger and slammed it into the wooden counter.
"Well then," Fiora calmly said in a steely tone. "If there's no room for my Pegasi, then I'll take back my money for the room." She stuck her gloved hand palm-up, waiting for her refund. The innkeeper just crossed his arms, unfazed.
The scarred innkeeper shook his head. "Naw, this establishment does not do refunds. Either you take it or leave it, milady."
Fiora pulled her dagger out and waved it under the grouch's nose.
"If you have no room for my Pegasi and you won't refund my money, then I guess I'll-"
The door swung open just then. All the heads swung around to see who was at the door. A sillohuette of a man stood there calmly.
"What's going on, Stan?" the figure asked in a tone that reminded Fiora of someone. "What's all this ruckus?"
Stan immediately rounded the counter and walked before the man and started his tale.
"It was this woman's fault, milord!" Stan the innkeeper gushed as he continue to tell his lie. "She threatened to slit me throat if I don't give her my honestly earned money! I swear she was inches at my throat!"
Fiora just stood there stunned as the man continued to nod his head at every interval that Stan stopped for a breathe.
How dare this innkeeper take every advantage of her! She may be a woman from Ilia but she is a fully fledged Pegasi Knight that had witnessed and taken part in the downfall of Nergal and his Morphs! How dare he!
Fiora just sheathed her dagger into her sheathe on her waist. She marched right up next to Stan and swung a punch into the innkeeper's stomach. Then she followed up with a kick.
It landed right between the man's legs. Owie.
"Ow!" the untrustworthy innkeeper howled in pain as he collapsed on the ground immediately. The man winced at the amount of pain and possible damage Fiora may have caused. He then instinctively stepped away from Fiora. Then he pulled out his saber and Fiora found herself looking down at the tip of the saber.
"Who are you and what trouble are you trying to cause, young lady?" the man demanded as Fiora continued to watch the tip. Stan tried to speak but the man kicked him, also between the legs. Stan fell back down and began to shrivel into the fetal position. Fiora averted her blue-eyed gaze from the man to Stan and back.
Why did the newcomer kick the guy? Weren't they friends?
Fiora looked deep down into the man's dark hazel eyes and saw that they were remarkably like someone she once knew.
"Don't mind him, milady," the man said as he slowly lowered his weapon. "He's just a little grouchy, that's all."
Fiora was still wary of this man. He may look like somebody she once knew but this man might just be like one of the many others she had to "deal with" while she traveled here.
"Who are you and what do you want?" Fiora demanded while the man helped Stan up and dropped him into a nearby seat. The man looked at her in the eye and gave her a roguish grin.
"I'd thought you'd never ask," the man said as he helped himself to a nearby jug of wine. Instead of pouring it into a cup, he drank directly from it.
The man then diverted his attention. "Hey Stan! Wasn't this from twenty years ago?" The downed innkeeper groaned as he slowly nodded his head. "Excellent year it was." The man continued to drain the jug.
Fiora just stood there slack-jawed. This man, this possible lordling, just held a weapon in her face, threatened to skewer her, and now he's drinking a jug full of wine the size of his head? Inconcievable.
"Ah yes, where were we?" the man grinned rakishly at Fiora. Instead of punching the man, Fiora found herself grinning back.
This person most definitely reminded her of someone. But who?
The man held his hand out to shake hers. "The name's Sunfire. Mark Sunfire, Master Tactician of Etruria."
Fiora just stood there, staring blankly at the outstretched hand and then just fainted on the wooden floor.
Mark leaned over her and shook his head. "Must've been drinking some of that strong stuff earlier."
With a heavy grunt as he lifted the Pegasi Knight up, Mark started to carried her in his arms back to his estate. A inn is not a place where a maiden should be lying down.
Besides, Mark was almost one hundred and twenty percent sure that the commotion he heard before stepping into the "Soaring Pegasus" was something along the lines of "all the room in the stables are taken."
Mark made a mental note to swing by the stables after returning to his estate. But first things first.
Stepping through the door, Mark carried his relatively light burden through the snow.
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Heh, that's all folks! Read & Review!
Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN FIRE EMBLEM!! Jeez I hate these things!
Warning: There is a major possibility of coarse humor in this chapter. Once again, I'm not responsible for the bad images rolling through your head.
You have been warned.
`
`
`
SPOILERS ABOUND!!!
`
`
`
Lost Hearts
~~~~~~~~~~~
`
`
The Pegasi Rider wasn't there anymore...
Mark just sat in his study, still staring out of his window. His apprentice, Gavin Firewind, was long gone. Possibly his apprentice is in the libary researching on long forgotten tactics.
The sun was setting. It will take merely moments until the crimson orb sets below the horizon.
Glancing toward the fire place, Mark sighed. The hearth was cold and empty.
"Fiora..."
His hand strayed toward a drawer in his desk, the one that was merely a few inches away from several lit candles. Sliding the mohagony wood back, he sought and burrowed for something. Something that was more precious to him than anything he ever valued.
It was something that he valued above his own life.
Finally, his hand found the item he was searching for. His callous fingers, well-worn from sword practice, held a single thin piece of blue cloth.
It was Fiora's old headband.
Holding the faded blue headband at eye level, Mark stared at it, drinking in every fiber and thread of the Pegasi Knight's gift.
"I've missed you..."
His fingers clutched the precious cloth tightly. Mark tilted the decanteur of brandy into his mug. After plugging the cork back in, he picked up his mug and knocked the alcohol back.
It had been almost three years. Three years since the fall of Nergal. Three years since almost everyone he knew and fought beside had been together.
Beneath saggy eyes, Mark's own blue eyes were somewhat foggy from both exhaustion and lack of sleep. Running his hands through his black hair, Mark gave a faint smile to the headband. Taking a deep breathe of the clothe, his grin grew.
"It still smells like her..."
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Gavin was no fool when he asked his master to bid him leave after tea. Working with the Master Tacitician who contibuted to the downfall of Nergal was an honor but keeping the same Mark from collapsing into deep stupor was a challenge.
He had been working by candle-light since tea in the dark and dusty library. Mark wasn't exactly the tidiest tactician around but within all these books ranging from the practical ("Tactics: Why You Should") to the... er... "interestingly diverting" as Mark once said ("The Sacaen Guide to Good Sex").
Gavin was flipping through a tome he just found on the desk. It was a romance novel that Mark was reading several days earlier but the end was rather tragic. Slamming the tome shut, Gavin rubbed his head.
Is this going to be tougher than just learning the "Weapon Triangle" and "Magic Trinity"?
Luckily for him, Gavin had many friends in the medical field.
At first, one suggested that Mark had probably insulted a woman and was condemned by Nemesis, the goddess of revenge. Gavin quickly discarded the theory. If that happened, then how come Mark isn't being hounded by some woman?
Another friend, a pharmicist, thought that Mark had an "emotional imbalance." Whatever the heck that was, Gavin also quickly tossed it out the window. As far as Gavin knew, Mark was most definitely right in the mind.
Others continued to suggest that Mark had a drinking problem. That was also quickly killed. The rest just continued with their musings until Gavin finally snapped and told them that perhaps his master is just being pensieve and nothing else.
That quickly made the others happy and he bade them farwell.
Flipping tome after tome about the human mind, Gavin's aquamarine eyes searched for his master's problem.
"Chemical imbalance... Mental disturbance... Pining... The heck is all this mess?" Gavin muttered as he tossed a tome onto a pile of growing books. All of them were of no use after being scoured by his quick eyes.
Picking up another book, Gavin sighed. When the heck is he ever going to find out what's wrong with Mark Sunfire, Master Tactician of Etruria?
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Fiora of Ilia continued her survey of the town where Etruria's finest Master Tactician was residing. If the rumors were true, then Mark Sunfire must be here.
It had been three years since she last saw the famed Master Tactician. She had given her old blue headband to him as a present.
Her blue eyes rolled as Fiora mind laughed at what a folly of a gift she gave to the Master Tactician. It would've been better to give such an honorable tactician a set of maps or a sword but Mark just laughed and took it with honor and pride.
A mighty wind blew her green hair around her as her pegasi swerved to compensate. Fiora leaned with her winged horse. Years of training had caused her instincts to move with the pegasi as one.
Yet there was one that she longed to be one with...
Her pegasi gave a snort as the cold wind continued to cut across their bodies. She and her horse were already used to Ilia's cold weather but the insane weather of Etruria was driving both of them crazy. Already their bodies were beginning to show signs of frostbite.
The sun was setting quickly, reducing vision. Fiora thought she saw a man clutching something in what looked like a study. The man's brown hair looked strikingly familiar but most Etrurians have dark hair.
Her pegasi gave another snort, this time with a impatient edge. Fiora knew exactly how her winged horse feels and empathizes with him. But her mission was important and she knows where Mark Sunfire might be.
She murmured something into the pegasi's ear. The pegasi immediately dove toward the earth. An inn with a welcoming glow from its windows was just merely below them. Surely there must be room left for a Pegasi Knight on a mission.
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Gavin's aquamarine eyes were getting heavier. Ever since he started reading tome after tome about the human mind, his mind felt like a great sponge filled with useless information.
The great pot of coffee he brought along earlier was definitely getting cold and Gavin was almost completely sure that the "caffeine" in it wasn't helping at all.
When the heck is he going to find out what's wrong with his master?
"Curses," the green-haired youth muttered as he discarded another tome onto a growing heap. "When the heck am I ever going to use reverse psychology for practical purposes?"
Picking up another tome, Gavin sighed as he tackled it. It was going to be a long night.
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Mark Sunfire, Master Tactician, was in the deepest stupor he had ever been in. It had been a while since he had last drank but knocking back brandy that was at least three times his age was completely stupid.
Wincing at the light glow of the candles, Mark rubbed his acheing temples.
"I need something to soothe this minor hangover," he muttered to himself as he slowly got up. The faded blue headband was still in his right hand as he used his left to steady himself.
He managed to toss several logs into the hearth without dropping one on his foot. Lighting the fire was simple. He found some dry tinder and promptly lit that with a nearby candle. Then he tossed the candle and the tinder on top of the pile of wood.
He stared into the burning fires for a moment. For a moment, he thought he saw a familiar face in the fire. But everytime he glanced at it again, it disappeared.
Mark fell back into a nearby chair, the ones that he usually reserves for guests. While his chair behind desk was rather comfortable, the guests have the privilege of slouching in chairs with padding that was more comfortable than his.
It must be that fact that he had been raised to live tough and be tough. Such comfort is usually reserved for the lords and ladies of Elibe.
Except maybe for Fiora...
The Master Tactician continued to sit there, pensievely. The glow of the fire soothed him where he felt somewhat drowsy. Already the pangs of a minor hangover were evaporating from him.
But he still thirsted for more drink.
He glanced at the faded blue headband that he had wrapped around his right hand. With sudden inspiration, he unwrapped it and bound it around his head.
Seizing his cloak from a nearby peg, Mark wrapped it around him. The place he had in mind was near and served rather excellent Ilian cuisine.
His foot was halfway out of the door when he stopped briefly. Should he leave a note behind for his apprentice to come fetch him from the "Soaring Pegasus" before the first hour in the morning?
Nah. Gavin will know why Mark Sunfire, Master Tactician of Etruria, is going to the "Soaring Pegasus."
It was just merely for a drink. And possibly companionship...
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"What?! You mean that I flew all the way from Ilia just for nothing?!" Fiora cried increduously at the innkeeper. The scarred old man glared at the angry Pegasi Knight.
"Ah'm sorry, milady," the gruff innkeeper grunted in reply. "But all the room left in the stables are taken. Yer winged horse will not be accomadated in dis establishment." Fiora brought out her personal dagger and slammed it into the wooden counter.
"Well then," Fiora calmly said in a steely tone. "If there's no room for my Pegasi, then I'll take back my money for the room." She stuck her gloved hand palm-up, waiting for her refund. The innkeeper just crossed his arms, unfazed.
The scarred innkeeper shook his head. "Naw, this establishment does not do refunds. Either you take it or leave it, milady."
Fiora pulled her dagger out and waved it under the grouch's nose.
"If you have no room for my Pegasi and you won't refund my money, then I guess I'll-"
The door swung open just then. All the heads swung around to see who was at the door. A sillohuette of a man stood there calmly.
"What's going on, Stan?" the figure asked in a tone that reminded Fiora of someone. "What's all this ruckus?"
Stan immediately rounded the counter and walked before the man and started his tale.
"It was this woman's fault, milord!" Stan the innkeeper gushed as he continue to tell his lie. "She threatened to slit me throat if I don't give her my honestly earned money! I swear she was inches at my throat!"
Fiora just stood there stunned as the man continued to nod his head at every interval that Stan stopped for a breathe.
How dare this innkeeper take every advantage of her! She may be a woman from Ilia but she is a fully fledged Pegasi Knight that had witnessed and taken part in the downfall of Nergal and his Morphs! How dare he!
Fiora just sheathed her dagger into her sheathe on her waist. She marched right up next to Stan and swung a punch into the innkeeper's stomach. Then she followed up with a kick.
It landed right between the man's legs. Owie.
"Ow!" the untrustworthy innkeeper howled in pain as he collapsed on the ground immediately. The man winced at the amount of pain and possible damage Fiora may have caused. He then instinctively stepped away from Fiora. Then he pulled out his saber and Fiora found herself looking down at the tip of the saber.
"Who are you and what trouble are you trying to cause, young lady?" the man demanded as Fiora continued to watch the tip. Stan tried to speak but the man kicked him, also between the legs. Stan fell back down and began to shrivel into the fetal position. Fiora averted her blue-eyed gaze from the man to Stan and back.
Why did the newcomer kick the guy? Weren't they friends?
Fiora looked deep down into the man's dark hazel eyes and saw that they were remarkably like someone she once knew.
"Don't mind him, milady," the man said as he slowly lowered his weapon. "He's just a little grouchy, that's all."
Fiora was still wary of this man. He may look like somebody she once knew but this man might just be like one of the many others she had to "deal with" while she traveled here.
"Who are you and what do you want?" Fiora demanded while the man helped Stan up and dropped him into a nearby seat. The man looked at her in the eye and gave her a roguish grin.
"I'd thought you'd never ask," the man said as he helped himself to a nearby jug of wine. Instead of pouring it into a cup, he drank directly from it.
The man then diverted his attention. "Hey Stan! Wasn't this from twenty years ago?" The downed innkeeper groaned as he slowly nodded his head. "Excellent year it was." The man continued to drain the jug.
Fiora just stood there slack-jawed. This man, this possible lordling, just held a weapon in her face, threatened to skewer her, and now he's drinking a jug full of wine the size of his head? Inconcievable.
"Ah yes, where were we?" the man grinned rakishly at Fiora. Instead of punching the man, Fiora found herself grinning back.
This person most definitely reminded her of someone. But who?
The man held his hand out to shake hers. "The name's Sunfire. Mark Sunfire, Master Tactician of Etruria."
Fiora just stood there, staring blankly at the outstretched hand and then just fainted on the wooden floor.
Mark leaned over her and shook his head. "Must've been drinking some of that strong stuff earlier."
With a heavy grunt as he lifted the Pegasi Knight up, Mark started to carried her in his arms back to his estate. A inn is not a place where a maiden should be lying down.
Besides, Mark was almost one hundred and twenty percent sure that the commotion he heard before stepping into the "Soaring Pegasus" was something along the lines of "all the room in the stables are taken."
Mark made a mental note to swing by the stables after returning to his estate. But first things first.
Stepping through the door, Mark carried his relatively light burden through the snow.
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Heh, that's all folks! Read & Review!