As the images of death, sorrow, and betrayal faded from memory, he languidly began to realise the haziness surrounding his somewhat sentient state, but remained unable to move. Where was he? Could it have been specified as a place at all? He was just floating. In water, in mid-air, he wouldn't have been able to tell with the tingling numbness filling his body, anyway. He fancied himself able to hear his own blood streaming through his vessels, slowly being pumped by his sluggish heart, and feel his shallow, irregular breaths flowing in and out of his lungs. His limbs were heavy, as if they were filled with stones, and he felt cold, like the voice of death was calling him. Was he even alive? Was he about to die, or be reborn?
"Chrom, we have to do SOMETHING!"
The uncertain voice of a young girl. It was not the sound of a shinigami filling him with the desire to die, or a skeletal grim reaper ready to collect his soul, but one that called him back to life, away from death's door. Air glided more easily in and out of his nose, the scents of trees, grass, a large variety of flowers, and three people, including a rancid male and female, flooding his sinuses.
"What do you propose we do?"
Those words were spoken in a gentle, familiar baritone. They felt incredibly comforting after the endless, voidable silence from before. The numbness was fading, and he could now tell he was laying on his back, grass brushing against his fingertips in the light spring breeze that tickled his skin. He struggled to open his sticky eyelids, reflexively closing them after only a split second of exposure to the blinding sunlight.
"I-I dunno!" stammered the girl.
He groaned lowly as he forced his eyelids apart, finally able to decipher the appearances of the silhouettes looking down at him. To his right was the girl with her sandy-blonde hair in curled pigtails, wearing a yellow dress with a brown leather corset and white apron, a kind smile. She looked like she was in her mid teens, but her pale green eyes reflected a playful streak a little below her apparent age. The young man, only just past the brink of adulthood, was a little different, wearing a navy blue tunic, which lacked a right sleeve, and pantaloons. There was a regal-looking sword at his hip, attached to white belts which crossed over his upper torso, and he had a white cape falling down the entire length of his back, the ends of it worn and tattered, from his silver shoulder guard. His exposed arm showed some kind of mark on his shoulder, just a little darker than his skin. It looked like a tear shape falling into some kind of decorative, rounded cup, and his hair, combed to the right, and eyes were the same colour as his clothing; a deep sapphire-blue.
Noticing he was waking up, the two leaned down a little further, each greeting him with an undeniably warm and friendly smile.
"I see you're awake now," the blue-haired male spoke gently, as if to a terrified deer.
"Hey there," the girl whispered quietly in the same soft tone. He felt muscles, which he hadn't realised had been tensed, loosen, and found himself meekly reciprocating that smile.
"There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know!" the man joked, and the girl nodded in agreement with a small giggle. "Give me your hand." The male slowly lowered his own, offering a help up. He hesitantly took it, absentmindedly noting something on his own hand.
He wobbled on his own unsteady legs, and the blue-dressed man had to help balance him by putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He just stopped himself from reeling away from the onslaught of the man's fetid smell, and managed to keep a straight face.
"You alright?" asked the blue-haired man once he was steady enough to stand by himself.
"Y-yes..." His voice was raspy and his mouth dry, so he cleared his throat before trying to speak again. "Thank you, Chrom."
The man handed him a water skin, and he did not hesitate to greedily gulp down the refreshing liquid, but made a point of handing it back at least half-full with a word of gratitude. The man seemed sceptical, or perhaps concerned, but reattached it to his belt regardless, before something seemed to occur to him.
"So, you know of me?" he asked.
"A-ah, I… N-no, I overheard it...and assumed it was you," the other stammered nervously, wringing his hands under his coat's long sleeves.
The man chuckled quietly. "There's no need to be afraid. Your assumption was correct, as well, I just didn't realise you were already awake at that point," Chrom reassured, squeezing the shorter male's shoulder. "But tell me, what's your name? What brings you here?"
"My name is... It's..." A look of surprise crossed his face as he faltered, and he grasped his head.
It was such a simple question, demanding the simplest of answers-merely a single word would have sufficed. So how come nothing came? It wasn't like knowing you had the word in your brain, but that it simply couldn't be brought to your tongue. No, it wasn't even there to begin with. It might as well have not ever existed at all.
But a person with no name was simply unheard of.
"You don't know your own name?" Chrom prompted eventually.
"I'm not sure if..." A pause. "I'm sorry, but... Where am I...exactly?" He looked around, seeing only grassland with a few stray trees in the distance, and a stone path nearby. He could otherwise only sense the wind, the smell of saltwater, and the matching crashing of waves against stone cliffs a few miles away.
"Hey, I've heard of this! It's called amnesia!" the girl suddenly called out, making him jump.
"It's called a load of pegasus dung," stated a deep, curt voice. From behind Chrom and the girl, a tall man with messy brown hair, clad in silver and sky-blue armour, and a polished silver lance in his grip, stepped forward. The tall man stared down at the potential amnesiac with a strictly furrowed brow and pointed gaze. He cast a large, dark shadow over the other person, who trembled under it, beads of sweat running down his forehead at the sight of such a distrustful expression. "We're to believe you know milord's name, but not your own?"
"B-but it's the truth!" he blurted out, wide-eyed. Chrom placed his hand on the lance, slowly lowering it until the tip touched the dirt.
"What if it IS true, Frederick? We can't just leave him here, alone and confused. What sort of Shepherds would we be then?" he questioned.
"Just the same, milord," the great knight, Frederick, retorted. "I must emphasise caution. T'would not do to let a wolf into our flock."
"Right then-we'll take him back to town and sort this out there," Chrom decided, and Frederick reluctantly stepped back.
The one in question hadn't calmed throughout the entire conversation. He didn't know them. Whether they were the only people he could remember or not, for all he knew they could have been plotting to assault or rob him at that very moment, or worse. Although he doubted such low-lifers would refer to anyone as 'milord', it could have perhaps only been a ploy to earn the meagre trust he dared offer.
"W-wait a moment! Don't I have a say in this?"
"Peace, friend," Chrom placated. "I promise we'll hear all you have to say back in town. Now come."
He made the suitable gesture, and started walking ahead, the spritely girl right behind him after shooting the stranger an encouraging look. The amnesiac hesitated to follow, but the sound of the lance's tip being removed from the ground was more than enough incentive.
As they marched along the roughly paved road, the newcomer acutely aware of Frederick's lance and sharp glare, he mulled over everything he could figure out. Looking at himself, he noted he was donning a long, black cloak that fell to his heels, and was at least a size too big for him. Its sleeves, which were comically longer than his arms, each had an amethyst-coloured line down it, which also decorated the back and hood of the cloak, with three eye-like markings along it, and the cuffs were accented with gold. A soothing, female scent clung to the fabric, and he found himself relaxing in that presence. Whatever the case, it could not have been a cheap garment. Otherwise, he was only wearing a beige, sleeveless top, matching cotton trousers beneath crossed belts holding up leather padding, which matched the cloak, and leather boots.
He was obviously in a coastal area, given the sounds and smells-
He cut off that train of thought. How could he perceive such things? He had not stopped to think on it earlier, but it wasn't something a human should have been able to do, was it? The ability to smell or hear anything from miles away is beyond average capability. So how come he could do it, and with such ease?
He abruptly halted.
"What will you do with me?" he asked the question that had been on his mind since he woke up. "Am I to be your prisoner?"
Chrom chuckled again. "Don't worry! You'll be free to go once we establish you're no enemy of Ylisse."
"Is that where we are? Ylisse?" asked the amnesiac.
"You've never heard of the halidom?" Frederick scoffed. "Ha! Someone pay this actor. He plays quite the fool! The furrowed brow is especially convincing..."
He felt an odd tingling sensation in his throat, and his brows lowered at the comment. Then again, he couldn't truly blame the man for being distrustful at his incredible story. An amnesiac who they just happened to find laying in the middle of a field? That sounded unbelievable, even to the victim.
"Frederick, please." Chrom glared at the man, before calmly answering the other person. "This land is known as the Halidom of Ylisse. Our ruler, Emmeryn, is called the Exalt." He paused. "I suppose proper introductions are in order. As you know, my name is Chrom." He lightheartedly wrapped his arm around the girl's shoulders and squeezed her against his side. "The delicate one here is my little sister, Lissa."
"I am NOT delicate!" interrupted the girl in question, finishing with a huff and flicking her head away from him. With her arms still crossed, she soon redirected a softened gaze to the stranger. "Ignore my brother, please. He can be a bit thick, sometimes!" It was Chrom's turn to look offended, but Lissa swiftly continued before he could interrupt her. "But you're lucky the Shepherds found you. Brigands would've been a rude awakening!"
The amnesiac tilted his head in curiosity. "'Shepherds'?" he repeated. "You tend sheep? In full armour?"
Chrom chuckled. "It's a dangerous job. Just ask Frederick the Wary, here." He gestured to the knight in question, who bowed to him.
"A title I shall wear with pride. Gods forbid one of us keeps an appropriate level of caution." He still scowled at the amnesiac. "I have every wish to trust you, stranger, but my station mandates otherwise."
"I understand, sir," he answered formally. "I would do no less myself. My name is Robin-" In his surprise, he cut himself off mid-sentence. Robin. That certainly sounded familiar. Did that mean that was his name? It had just slipped out while he had been speaking, unbidden. He didn't exactly have much else to go on, let alone deny it, so he supposed it had to be his name. "I just remembered that. How odd… I suppose that's one mystery solved!" He turned to face Chrom properly, grinning ecstatically from ear to ear. "My name is Robin! It's nice to meet you." He bowed slightly-it just felt right to do so-but he was unable to stop himself from trembling excitedly.
Chrom and Lissa laughed lightly at the display. "Robin, huh?" repeated the man. "I haven't heard of anyone being named after a bird before, but it certainly isn't a bad name."
"See!" budded in the girl. "Your amnesia is probably from your unconsciousness, so it won't be long before you remember more!"
Robin smiled thankfully, before it faded and he blanched instead. That smell would unsettle anyone, but, more importantly, people were screaming in terror not too far away.
"Chrom, look!" he yelped, pointing ahead. Everyone whirled around in the given direction, and their breath caught in their throats.
Dark smoke was billowing up into the sky from the southwest.
Chrom gritted his teeth in anger. "Damn it! Southtown is ablaze! Those blasted brigands, no doubt," he growled, before swinging his arm in a rallying motion and taking off into a sprint. "Frederick, Lissa, quickly!"
"What about him, milord?" questioned the knight, already mounted on his steed, but still remaining beside Robin.
The blue-haired man halted, hastily glanced between the two, and bit his lip. "Unless he's on fire, too, it can wait!" he snapped.
The ever-calm Frederick nodded. "Aptly put, milord."
"Let's go, already!" Lissa prompted agitatedly. Her brother nodded stiffly in agreement, and they, with the knight pulling the girl onto his horse behind him, wasted no time in heading towards the town.
"But, what about…" Robin sighed quietly as he trailed off, looking at his surroundings as he was left alone.
He could run away and never need to see those three again. It was the perfect chance to escape, if he so wanted to. They would have completely forgotten about a random boy like himself, a stranger they just found lying unconscious on the wayside, by morning. However, he could not stomach the idea of leaving Chrom, Frederick, and Lissa to fight whatever brigands attacked the town without a proper plan. He gritted his teeth. The last thing he wanted to do was enter a fight, but a niggling feeling the depths of his conscience told him that he had to help. He would not leave innocents to die.
Robin shook his head, muttering, "Gods, help us…"
And he followed them.
. . .
When the three Shepherds arrived in Southtown, almost every building was already in flames. Black smoke was rising, the wooden foundations being consumed. The market in the town square, where traders had once gathered, was desolate and destroyed, goods sprawled across the streets, fruits squashed, barbecue fires out of control.
They heard a high-pitched squeal, and turned to see who looked like one of the stronger ruffians leering at a short, blonde young woman, slowly and threateningly closing in on her while imposingly flexing his muscles. She was being driven against the wall of a residential home, one of the few which wasn't already being bathed in flames. She squeaked when she felt her back hit the solid stone, frantic as she searched for a way out of her entrapment.
"Well, yeh're a pretty lil' lass, ain'tcha?" asked the man, licking his lips wolfishly. She wimpered when his body got uncomfortably close to hers, his breaths tickling her cheek. "Would be a shame if-"
The brigand suddenly jolted and collapsed, killed by the blade of Frederick's lance.
"Indeed. It would be a shame if she had to deal with you any longer," almost spat the knight, redirecting his mount to face her again. "Are you quite alright, miss?"
She could only nod shakily, still trembling.
"Are you hurt?" Lissa cried, unclipping her Heal staff and holding it ready. It was the weakest of its kind, a simple golden rod with a turquoise orb attached to the end, but it was the best the young cleric could do.
"I-I'm fine, Lady Lissa," she stammered, curtsying awkwardly. "Just a bit shaken, that's all. I assure you!"
The girl nodded, satisfied. "Good!"
"Get to safety for now," Chrom said, walking up to the group. He looked over the ruined market in disgust. "We'll take care of this mess."
As the young woman agreed and fled, the lord unsheathed his sword, Falchion. Its guard bore a similar design to the brand on his shoulder, with a teardrop shaped hollow in the middle, and gold running from the hilt, around the edge, then down the centre of the narrow blade. It was a wondrous thing to behold, despite its, admittedly, plain design for what it truly was. But perhaps the simplicity only magnified its iridescent glow.
They heard more brigands cry in pain, and their attention flicked to the east side of the market area.
"Oi! That guy took 'im out!" roared a myrmidon and ran off, a mage following him in the direction of the cry. Chrom and Frederick took their chance and stabbed them from behind, their now-corpses joining a third. The two men looked up at the culprit, who had just removed his bronze sword, a first tier, but nonetheless durable, weapon, from the body he had robbed of life.
"Robin?" Chrom asked in surprise, but got no response. The boy seemed to be in a trance of some sort, his gaze fixed upon the dead man. His clouded eyes showed not a single hint of clear-mindedness, head curiously tilted to the left, staring at the puddle of blood leaking out onto the pavement. Thick saliva flowed from his slightly parted lips and down his chin, dripping onto the ground.
"Robin?" There was still no response as the boy knelt down beside the body, tilting his head the other way. His heavy breaths became audible as he leaned in more closely to the corpse's head.
"…Milord?" The ever-wary Frederick prompted, tense.
"ROBIN!" Chrom shouted as a small breeze whipped through his hair, snapping the other man out of it as he wrinkled his nose, jumping up straight and looking between them, eyes wide in panic.
"Ch-Chrom, don't do that again! I didn't even hear you coming!" he yelled, jittery.
"Milord had called your name three times already!" Frederick intervened, taking up a warning tone. "You were the one who wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. The next time that happens, you may not make it out alive."
"Frederick, wait," Chrom raised a hand, silencing his guard's warning. "Robin, what was that? You're still drooling."
The boy in question blinked in surprise, and ran his fingers under his mouth, pulling his hand away and seeing, to his obvious shock, the clear liquid coating his digits. He hurriedly wiped his mouth with his sleeve, partially just smearing the saliva across his face, and lowered his head again.
"I don't know... I just..." he whispered, looking anywhere, including the dead body, but them.
"Robin, are you alright?" Chrom asked again, prompting the amnesiac to look up, but still not in the blue-haired man's eye. Robin's own widened when he stared past the lord's head, already fair skin paling at the sight he was met with.
"Behind you!" he suddenly cried, digging into his cloak.
The sapphire-haired man turned to see a barbarian running towards him, bronze axe raised and ready to cleave him in half. Chrom grasped Falchion's hilt, preparing to draw it, when a golden ball of lightning rushed past him and hit the brigand square in the chest. The man's limbs spasmed from electrocution for a few seconds, before his knees buckled and he collapsed face-first onto the ground, and remained limp.
Chrom turned to the caster to see the glowing ancient runes that had been spiralling around Robin fade, the boy's left hand outstretched, the right holding a book with a yellow binding, a golden zig-zag shape below the ancient inscriptions titling the spell book. A thunder tome, to be precise, the most powerful type of anima magic. Robin lowered his hand and stuck the tome under his cloak into a specially designed pouch. Chrom also noticed the bronze sword was in its scabbard at his hip, the boy remaining silent.
"Milord, I apologise for not reacting in time."
"It's fine, Frederick," Chrom said to the ashamed knight. "Not a scratch on me!" Turning to the other. "But, Robin, are you okay?"
The boy hesitated, and looked away. "I'm fine."
Even Chrom, who was infamously unaware of other's on an emotional level and a terrible liar himself, knew Robin wasn't telling the entire truth, but decided to change the subject.
"Why did you follow us?"
Another hesitation, but at least the boy looked at him. "I... I'm not sure myself." His eerie eyes became more steely, and he gestured to his weapons and the brigands he had slain. "But, as you can see, I'm armed. And I know my way around a fight, if you'll have me."
Chrom nodded in agreement. "Right, strength in numbers-just stay close!" He didn't want to witness another episode like Robin had just shown, if possible. He could not fathom what that behaviour meant. It certainly had not been the traumatic feeling of killing someone for the first time. With Robin's skill, it was obvious he knew how to fight, even if he couldn't remember learning it. Not to mention that his reaction had not matched the symptoms that followed such a shock. No, it had been something else entirely.
The boy had seemed fascinated with the corpse more than anything else, hypnotised even. The lord knew Frederick would point it out sooner or later, especially with Robin's apparent ethnicity. Such fair body tones were not Ylissean, nor was the design of his robes. He might have continued his reverie for a while longer if not for the mage interrupting his train of thought. Was Robin even what classified as a mage? The only ones the lord knew of could certainly not wield a sword.
"There's still plenty of them left," Robin spoke pensively, crouching behind the stall nearest to the opponents. Lissa squatted down behind him, whereas Chrom and Frederick, after dismounting his horse, hid behind the market stand beside theirs. The sword-wielding mage bit his lip, scrutinising each brigand. His eyes widened suddenly, and he placed a palm on his head with a light moan. In response, Chrom lightly shook the boy's shoulder.
"Still with us, Robin?"
The younger male hummed in thought, before shifting and looking over the enemy again, frowning. "It's strange. Here on the battlefield, I can... Well, I can 'see' things."
"See things?" echoed the lord. "Like what?"
"The enemy's strength, their weaponry, the flow of battle... I must have studied this somewhere."
Chrom cocked a brow. "So, you're saying you can size up the enemy at a glance?" he guessed.
Robin nodded, suddenly confident. "Yes, it would seem so. And perhaps even more, if I apply myself..."
"Would you be prepared to demonstrate?" Frederick asked, his tone more like that of an order. The mage spared him a glance, before returning to the enemy, eyes narrowed.
"Two swordsmen, a mage, three axemen and the boss. They all have bronze weapons, the mage a fire tome, but the leader has a hand axe-iron. They have chosen the church as a base, since it's the sturdiest building, and are holding the villagers captive in there."
Chrom scanned the area himself. They were hiding behind the final row of market stalls before the bridge, under which flowed a deep, tidal river directly connected to the sea. The church on the other side showed no signs of damage, but the coloured windows didn't allow for him to see inside, either. He could recognise the placements of the enemy-the axemen barely ten paces ahead, the swordsmen on the bridge, and the leader behind them-, but he couldn't identify their arsenal from that distance. Could Robin tell the weapons apart by their sheathes? He had only ever known Frederick to be capable of that.
"How can you tell?" Frederick inquired.
"Well, for one, they would have no other use for it, so they would burn it down, and why else would the leader stand right in front of the doors? Seems pretty pointless, if you ask me. N-not that I'm praising their wit!" Robin yelped when the knight shot him a suspicious glare.
Lissa leaned around him. "I know what you said, but I don't see a mage anywhere..."
He smirked. "That's the idea. Look!" He pointed to a house on the other side of the river. From the attic window, they could see the man, poised and ready to strike with his Fire tome from above.
"So that's how the entire town was set ablaze, yet none of them carried torches," Chrom mused aloud, earning a nod.
"So, here's what I suggest," Robin started. "Chrom faces one of the axemen. If it's unavoidable, then limit yourself to two out of the three. Frederick will handle the swordsmen. You both will have a weapon advantage over your opponents." Swords allowed the wielder more control over the blade's course than axes, making them more versatile. Axes bested lances by cleaving the haft in two, and lances had a longer range than swords. Those basic rules formed the 'weapon triangle', a key point to bear in mind for any strategy. "I'll take care of that mage before joining Chrom. Lissa stays behind Frederick and heals us later."
"A sound plan," admitted the lord. Lissa and Frederick nodded in agreement, the latter a little more cautiously. He pulled himself up onto his armoured horse, before offering the cleric a hand.
"Don't charge until the mage is dead. Your armour will do nothing to impede the magical damage," Robin warned, before skulking to the eastern side of the market and whispering the ancient runes to charge the Thunder spell. He raised his hand, narrowing his eyes and focusing on his target. He only had one chance with the element of surprise. The glyphs started spiralling around him, and the pages of his tome fluttered by themselves with the mana flowing through them.
"Thunder," he whispered, and the golden ball of lightning flew up to the building, hit the mage in the chest, and the victim fell backwards, out of sight.
"Your end has come!" Chrom roared as he charged from behind the stall, blindsiding the first axeman. The man whirled around to meet the lord, raising his axe in an attempt to stop Falchion in its tracks. The holy metal struck the bronze, and sparks flew as their blades ground against each other. The brigand had a clear advantage in strength, pushing Chrom back.
The lord spun out of the way, the axe slicing across his exposed upper arm, the brigand stumbled forward, before he was stabbed through the back, and dropped dead.
"Duck!"
It took Chrom a moment to realise what was being demanded, before he crouched down. He heard the sound of the bronze axe gliding over his head, immediately followed by the electric sound of the Thunder spell striking the ruffian. The force of the anima magic threw the man back, and the lord had felt the energy as it had zipped over his head. Chrom shuddered at the thought of what could have happened had he not lowered himself in time.
He raised himself and lunged at the brigand, Falchion stabbing the burly man's chest. He spluttered, his knees buckled, before he joined his companion on the pavement.
"DAMN YOU!" Chrom heard the third axeman cry behind him, and he whirled around to see him running towards Robin, who was standing just in front of what had formerly been his cover, axe raised high and screaming for vengeance. The brute knew the boy was a mage, a scholar of magic, and they generally had low physical capabilities compared to other classes.
The axe came down, a scraping sound resounded as Robin drew his sword, then parried the strike to the side by following the axe's movement with his sword, turning the brute's own momentum against him, then rolled in the opposite direction. The brigand's axe smashed the stone tiles lining the marketplace and buried itself in the ground below. Robin took the chance, and ran up to the immobilised man as he attempted to dislodge his weapon.
"You sorely underestimated me!" he cried as he ran the brigand's heart through, the bloodied tip of his sword protruding from the other side of the body. Robin pulled out the blade, and stumbled back as the brigand collapsed.
A wave of concern washed over Chrom, and he immediately rushed to the boy's side. He firmly grasped Robin's shoulders, ignoring the stabbing sensation it brought to his right arm, as the mage continued staring at the three corpses. His knees were practically banging against each other, beads of sweat running down his pale forehead, past wide eyes and a gaping mouth as shuddering breaths escaped it.
"Hey!" Chrom called, leaning into the boy's line of vision. "Don't think about that, alright?"
"That look..." Robin whispered, wet eyes meeting the lord's. "He was...scared... He didn't want to die..."
The older man sighed and nodded solemnly. "Of course he didn't, but look around." He gestured the area surrounding them, the burning houses, the destroyed goods, the blood-tainted river. "They did this-they had justice coming."
Robin still looked at him, latent terror he was trying to calm evident in his expression, and slumped against the market stand behind him. "Why do any of...this?" he asked quietly, glancing around the town nearing ashes. "Why...?"
Chrom clapped him on the shoulder. "I don't know why anyone would want to do this. But what I do know, is that the Shepherds are fighting to put an end to all this." A hesitant nod answered him, and the lord felt a pang of empathy; this was more like the reaction he had expected. Perhaps Robin was not as prepared to kill as he had originally thought, but that only made the event earlier more bizarre. The boy hadn't seemed to mind that corpse, so why mind the one beside them? An idea pulled at the edges of Chrom's mind, but he repressed it, both horrified and nauseated at the very thought.
"Milord!" They heard Frederick call. The great knight arrived with his silver lance bloodied and Lissa's face buried in his armoured back. From his peripheral vision, Chrom watched Robin straighten up, and awkwardly sheathe his sword. "I have dispatched my assigned targets, as well as the leader. He appeared to be the man we were after."
Chrom frowned. Garrick had been a well known criminal leader, who had recently gained infamy in all of southern Ylisse with his chain attacks on the towns. Southtown was only one example. Not only that, but the brigands' accents had alerted Chrom to a potentially greater threat.
"Well, that's the end of that," Robin sighed in relief, surveying the town once again.
Lissa peeked out from behind Frederick, a little pale. Her first battle had been in the village they had saved the day before, and she hadn't exactly taken part in any actual combat. Riding behind Frederick was the closest she had been her entire life, so she was understandably a little shaken. She hopped off the armoured mare, and blew a stray lock of hair out of her face.
"Honestly, Chrom. Wear a sleeve!" she chided as she examined her brother's injury. She sighed exasperatedly, and began bandaging the gash instead of healing it immediately. "I'll need to borrow some disinfectants for that before I can seal the wound. Just don't strain it. Luckily for the them, we were close by." She tied a bow in the bandage, with a cheeky wink to her brother, and turned to face the boy again with her usual bright expression. "But holy wow, Robin, you were incredible! Swords, sorcery, AND tactics! Is there anything you can't do?"
"You're certainly no helpless victim," Chrom agreed, pointedly ignoring Lissa's 'accessory'. "That much is for sure."
"Indeed. Perhaps you might even be capable for an explanation of how you came here?" Frederick questioned from atop his steed, tightening his grip on his lance.
Robin lowered his head with an uncharacteristic frown. He seemed to brood and chew over his words carefully, before he nervously met Frederick's gaze. "I understand your scepticism, Sir Frederick," he started slowly. "And I cannot explain why only some knowledge has returned to me. But please, believe me, I have shared all that I know."
"You fought to save Ylissean lives. My heart says that's enough," Chrom spoke firmly.
"And your mind, milord? Will you not heed its counsel, as well?"
"Frederick," The lord fixed the knight with a firm look. "The Shepherds could use someone with Robin's talents. We've brigands and unruly neighbours, all looking to bloody our soil. Would you really have us lose such an able tactician?" He shot the boy in question a grin. "Besides, I believe his story, odd as it might be."
"Th-thank you, Chrom," Robin whispered breathlessly, eyes wide in surprise at the amount of sheer blind faith put into him. Despite whatever protests that were bound to arise, the lord was confident that his trust was well placed. He certainly could not remember an event where that had not been the case, nor could anyone else.
"So how about it? Will you join us, Robin?" He placed his hands on his hips, an assured grin on his face. He watched in slight amusement as Robin stared blankly at him, obviously shocked at the sudden offer. As the surprise faded, it was replaced by deep pensiveness as his gaze fixed itself upon his feet, his fists clenching and unclenching rhythmically. He could simply accept or decline the offer. Either choice would greatly affect his life from that moment on, so Chrom could understand the hesitance. However, as he had said, he had no intention of losing someone with such potential without a fight, so refusal would have been met with negotiation.
But Chrom soon realised he hadn't needed to worry, as the boy gave each one of them a glance, and smiled brightly and thankfully.
"I would be honoured."
. . .
EDIT 05/04/2016: It was delayed on this site, because I had limited broadband and I was without my laptop before. Sorry!
Author's Note:
Well, hello again Wattpad, hello , and hello AO3!
This is the revised version of a fanfic I began writing last year. There will be some minor and major differences to the original work, from dialogues to accuracy of the story elements, especially when it comes to Tokyo Ghoul, which I am, admittedly, less familiar with than Fire Emblem: Awakening. I'm sticking more closely to the manga than the anime, so whoever has only seen the latter will meet some unfamiliar concepts. But don't worry-all will be thoroughly explained!
This work will follow the FE:A storyline, but I'm confident that I'll explain the characters and concepts well enough, and an equal amount of detailed TG elements, so that those who haven't played the game will enjoy it just as much as those who have, and vice versa.
That said, the rating of this fanfic *WILL* move up to M pretty soon(maybe even as early as Chapter 3), and there will be character spoilers for Tokyo Ghoul:re, so reader discretion is advised for those with weak stomachs, and who don't want to be spoiled in that area!
Tags I've added so far on AO3, for reference:
- Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death
- Horror, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Tragedy
- Psychological Trauma, Past Abuse
- Borderline Personality Disorder
- Rating May Change
Some of you may have noticed that the title says "Ylisstol Ghoul 'I'". This will be a three-part series, one per arc of the story. And, who knows, maybe a fourth?
Updates to this work will become more frequent as my original writing style and attention to plot detail gradually improves. I hope you'll stick with me throughout this little (but certainly VERY long) adventure!
Also, dear American and Australian readers, BRITISH SPELLINGS AND EXPRESSIONS! Just to make sure that's clear! I can also speak German and French. Anyone who prefers those over English can always speak to me in those two languages, if they want to.
Fire Emblem: Awakening is a strategy RPG game for the Nintendo 3DS console by Nintendo and Intelligent Systems. Tokyo Ghoul and Tokyo Ghoul:re are manga written and drawn by ISHIDA Sui, the first of which is already released in two anime series. I own neither!
I greatly appreciate reviews/comments on my work. They always motivate me to continue writing!