Author's Note: Thanks to NewPaladin for the review! I'm actually really internally fraught as to how to describe Marisa's hair – since in-game she's known as 'the Crimson Flash', I wondering if I ought to depict her as crimson-haired or purple/pink-haired... so I'll continue to use crimson for now, please don't hate me! T_T

Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem.


CHAPTER III

The Hall of the Tempest King –


After they had rested and replenished their water supplies, Len and Marisa headed into the desert, along with their two newfound companions Salome and Lucas. The desert was as inhumane as he remembered, if not more so. The burning sheets of light shot down by the afternoon sun pierced the cloudless sky and scorched the sand, making it ever harder to stop reaching for the precious water in their flasks every minute. The route which Marisa had charted took them close to only a single oasis about two thirds of the way to their destination, so they had to use their water sparingly. While it was certainly rough going, their plotted course potentially saved them at least a day of travelling, and they had managed to reach the oasis with the same quick pace Marisa was known for pushing. When night fell, Len was more than ready to give up setting up camp altogether and sleep for at least a week next to the calm pool of water – or even in the pool itself.

Once they set up their respective beds and a decent fire (Len did this part, since he'd learnt over time that Marisa didn't really make very good fires), they were able to rest their tired bodies. Although during the day it was unfailingly hot, the desert nights could get quite chilly, so the warmth of the flames was more than welcome. Salome and Lucas went to bed almost immediately – the blind bard's caretaker insisted that he rest whenever he was able. While Marisa was away doing her daily sword practice, Len sat contentedly, with his back against the curving trunk of a palm tree, happily chewing on a piece of freshly-picked fruit as he watched Marisa go through her forms.

It was undeniably beautiful, watching the tip of the blade soar through the air, flashing red and blue by the alternating light of the moon and the flames. Marisa's crimson hair blazed through the darkness of the night as she swept her sword through a series of smooth, flowing motions. Len followed the movement of the blade quietly, trying to imagine what it was like to move like that flash of deadly steel. While her form was flawless, her movements effortless, there was something inexplicably unusual about the manner in which she swung her blade. Len frowned as he tried to put his finger on it – perhaps it was in the way the curvature of her sword edge did not seem to flow at precisely the same angle as her elegant swings, or maybe at the rare occasions that she appeared to stretch her arm just a little more than usual when she did her wider slashes.

Almost like she's trying to cut something beyond the air... or is it something else altogether?

When Marisa sheathed her sword, Len clapped quietly so as not to wake their sleeping companions. 'That was amazing, Marisa.'

She shrugged as she walked to sit near the fire. 'It's the usual,' she said neutrally. 'If I don't do at least this much, I'll never reach the standard I need to be.'

'Even better than now?' Len said with a laugh. 'I can't imagine that. Come to think of it, I never got to thank you properly for yesterday. If you hadn't been there, I could've been in deep trouble.'

'No need to thank me. I'm just doing my job.'

'Even so, I'm glad it was you I got for my escort,' he said. 'I was so overwhelmed by the reality of battle that I sort of lost my nerve back there.'

'Losing focus in battle means death,' Marisa said bluntly.

Len winced at her frankness. 'Yeah, I figured. I guess I ought to practise too, if I'm ever gonna be able to survive out on the battlefield. Say, you couldn't help me out with that, could you?'

Marisa took a moment to pick up on his last sentence, before answering, '... You want me to be your sparring partner?'

At this point, Len was still optimistic as he said, 'Yeah, sure! Maybe you can teach me some of that footwork you use. I'm no swordsman, but those forms look they help a lot with your movement... and it might be helpful for you to practice against someone who uses magic as their – w-wait! Why are you taking out your sword?'

'You said you wanted to spar. So let's spar.'

Len quickly began to realise the error in willingly giving Marisa a reason to use her weapon. 'H-hey, wait up, we don't have to go at it now – I mean, we've still got a full day of travelling to do tomorrow, it wouldn't do if we were both exhausted, right?'

Marisa seemed to consider this point, and as Len continued to sweat bullets, she finally sheathed her sword. 'Fine. Rest now, and we'll fight tomorrow.'

As she began to head to unfold her bedroll, Len let out a huge breath. Holy stones, what dark grave have I dug for myself now?

*~-0-~*

As Len predicted, the Hall came in sight as the sun dipped below the horizon, and they all breathed a collective sigh of relief as they realised their desert trek had come to an end. With the last of the red sunlight giving its final dues to the incoming night sky, the Hall was silhouetted beautifully against its beams of scarlet and amber. It was not as stupendous as the ornate artistry of the Rausten Court, nor did it have the same imposing, impenetrable might of the stalwart Grado Keep. However, with its rising steps, elegant pillars and graceful archways, there was certainly a dignified, almost mythical beauty about the saffron-coloured stone structure that was Jehanna Hall. As Len admired the way the fiery light of the dwindling sun played across its sandy walls, a memory of a scene struck him with a suddenness he was unprepared for –

'Father! Father!'

'Wha – a survivor?'

'You must flee! Quickly, before the flames engulf us all!'

'Princess Eirika. We must evacuate...'

'Father! Father, where are you?'

Len blinked as he felt a hand on his arm. He turned to see Lucas, his usual serene smile replaced a grave expression, and he couldn't help but feel that the bard had somehow seen what he had seen. 'Are you alright, Master Len?'

The mage forced a smile and gratefully patted the boy's hand. 'Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks. Let's get inside, it's gonna take a month to get all this sand out of my clothes.'

At the gates of the hall, Len gave his name to the sentry on duty, and he opened the doors for them. They were greeted by a tall, muscular man with spiky green hair who grinned broadly when he saw them.

'Well, I'll be – if it ain't Marisa!' he exclaimed, drawing her into a hug. Len's jaw almost dropped, even though he knew who this man was – anyone who could freely seize Marisa in such a way without fear of losing his head had to be a god.

Gerik, I respected you before, but I take that back. You ought to be revered, he thought as he watched with disbelief as Marisa's usually pale, emotionless face suddenly seemed flustered, and colour began rising into her cheeks. She merely stammered out, 'Ch-chief...'

However, he had spotted Len and he barely had time to raise a hand in greeting before he was knocked almost clean off his feet by a thump on the back. 'It's been a long time since I've seen you, my friend!' he said heartily. 'You've gotten a bit taller, haven't you?'

'It's good to see you too, Gerik,' he coughed out as he tried to get air into what was left of his lungs. 'You seem to be in er... top condition as usual.'

'Flattery won't get you anywhere down in Jehanna, pal,' Gerik told him, ruffling his hair. 'Though I'm not complaining.'

'Look, Gerik, I know it's been a while, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't make me feel like I'm a child all over again,' Len said with a pained expression.

'Can't help it, you always looked younger than your years,' he grinned back. 'Or maybe I'm just getting older. It might be worth thinking about that retirement.'

'No, Chief,' Marisa said forcefully. 'You're our leader. You can't go bunking off.'

'And what would the King do without you?' Len added. 'You're the royal guildmaster, your forces make up almost a third of the mercenaries in allegiance to Jehanna.'

At this Gerik's smile faded a little. 'Yeah, the King... he's having some troubles and a half right now,' he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. 'But more of that later. You guys must be totally famished after crossing the desert like that. You guys need to get some real food down ya – c'mon, I've got a proper roast going and you're all welcome to take your fill... incidentally, who are the other two?'

'Oh, man, I totally forgot!' Len said, smacking his head with his palm. 'Gerik, this is Lucas and his caretaker Salome, from Rausten. Lucas, Salome, this is Gerik, the royal guildmaster of Jehanna.'

The two Rausten travellers bowed. 'We are honoured to meet you, Sir Gerik,' Lucas said respectfully. Gerik waved away the formalities.

'No need for the "sir" part. I'm just a mercenary, not a lord. I'm just Gerik with you guys. Though I'm intrigued as to what two Rausten folk are doing down in Jehanna.'

'I think that's a story better told over the dinner table,' Len said, unable to stop his stomach from growling.

Gerik laughed again as he gave Len another debilitating thump on the back. 'You're right, as always! I hope you guys are hungry. Now, tell me how things are kicking up in Caer Pelyn. How's the elder's doing? Saleh taking good care of her?'

He led them through the winding corridors into a spacious room, where he spoke briefly to a servant. He served them fruit juice (since none of them except Gerik seemed to drink wine) while they waited for the food, during which Len explained their mission and how they managed to meet Salome and Lucas. Gerik's expression became grave as he listened to Len's tale, particularly when he mentioned Saleh.

'The Lagdou Ruins aren't a place for a single man to be wandering about in,' he said as the servants brought in their food. 'If I recall, only the most powerful monsters dwelt there, and even as an army in the War of the Stones, we only managed to get to the fifth floor before we had to retreat in case we took any casualties.'

'So do you reckon Master Saleh's in danger?' Len asked, a hint of anxiousness slipping into his voice.

Gerik smiled. 'Nah, Saleh's a smart guy. You of all people should know there's nobody like him with his magic in all of Magvel – he can take care of himself. But even so...'

'... Is there something else?' the mage pressed.

'We've been receiving reports of increased monster activity in the eastern regions of Jehanna,' Gerik said with some difficulty. 'We can't be too sure that the ruins are the origin of these creatures, but they've been coming out as far as the Narube River.'

Len frowned. 'Aren't there civilians living in that area?'

'Yep,' the mercenary leader said with a sigh. 'And the thing is... we simply don't have anyone to send over there. Jehanna's still not completely recovered yet, so we've had to send mercenaries all over the place to bring in some decent income. King Joshua's personal guard might be able to help out from time to time, but they're not allowed to travel without the King himself, and as far as I can see, the King's not gonna be going anywhere any time soon.'

At this, Marisa put down her glass and frowned slightly. 'Why's that?' she asked.

'We've been trying to keep it on the down low, but the Queen's been hit with an illness of some sort,' Gerik said, trying to rub some of the weariness out of his eyes. 'No-one knows what it is, or what could've caused it. All we know is that she's been stuck in bed for nearly two weeks now, and the King's been beside her almost every waking minute – he barely eats or drinks, let alone sleep. Safe to say he's not looking his best.'

As Gerik downed his glass, Len pressed his fingers together to consider what Gerik had said. The Queen ill in bed and the King worried to death over her – plus with the monsters in the east. It looked like Jehanna had been put in a tough position while he was away in Caer Pelyn. As a courtier of Jehanna, it was only right that he serve his country when he could...

'What if I went to check it out?' he offered.

Gerik gave him a confused glance. 'You mean the Queen?' he asked with a puzzled look. 'I know you're a mage and all that, but I don't think you'll be able to do much better than all the healers we've had look at –'

'No, not the Queen. I mean all the commotion in the Narube area. The fastest way to get to the ruins is across the river, right?'

'You'd do that for us?' Gerik said, smiling broadly. 'That would be just grand. Hell, I didn't know what to do. We barely have enough manpower to cover the all the ruckus happening around here. Especially with the news coming in from Rausten...'

'Rausten?'

They all looked at Salome, who had spoken up for the first time that conversation. 'Is there something amiss in my country?' she asked.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and before Gerik could say 'come in', it flew open and standing outside was a beautiful red-haired lady with an alluring outfit that would bring most men running within two sways of her body. 'Well, well, well... Gerik, you didn't tell me we had guests.'

'Tethys, the point of knocking is that you wait for someone to let you in?' Gerik said with amused exasperation.

'I know, Chief, but it's not like you weren't going to let me in anyway,' she said. 'And it's very rude to stop me from greeting an old friend.'

She swept over to Marisa to give her a warm embrace. 'Hello, Marisa! It's been far too long!'

Marisa patted her arm. 'Hello, Tethys,' she said, not displeased to see her.

'Oh, and who're your friends?' the red-haired woman asked, looking at the faces around the table, before she came to Len's. 'Is that... oh, it is! It's Len!'

'Hi, Tethys –' he began before Tethys wrapped him up in a hug as well.

'Look at you!' she cooed. 'You still look so young! But my, haven't you grown a bit taller?'

'Tethys,' Len tried to say (a relatively difficult task in this situation as half his face was currently pressed rather restrictively to her bosom), 'I'm not going to say that I'm not used to your tendency to... coddle, but I'd rather you didn't treat me like I'm three.'

'But Len, it's been such a while since I saw you last!' she said, finally releasing him. 'How long's it been, three years now? Yet you don't look a day over eighteen... how can I not fuss? Oh, how I envy the vitality of youth...'

'Indulge me,' the young mage said drily as he straightened the front of his robe. 'Anyway, you're not that much older than me – at least not old enough to comment on my youth. If it's any consolation, you look exactly the way the way I remember you three years ago.'

At this, Tethys laughed and (to Len's both horror and disapproval) pinched his cheek. 'Oh, you do know how to make a girl blush after all!'

Len did not what to do for a brief second, simply stunned with incredulity at what had just happened. She did not just do that. Is nothing sacred to this woman? My cheek, of all places?

'Tethys,' he said in what he sincerely hoped was a more warning tone. 'We go back a ways, but if you pinch my cheek again, I might forget myself.'

'So who are your other friends?' she said, pointedly ignoring his comment.

'My name is Salome, from Rausten,' the ivory-haired woman introduced herself. 'It is a pleasure to meet you.'

'I am Lucas, also from Rausten,' said her blind charge. 'We were fortunate enough to meet Master Len and Lady Marisa on our travels, when they lent us their aid against a group of bandits who attacked us on the road.'

'My, my, up to heroics already,' Tethys teased, nudging Len gently. 'How lucky it is that you met up with such a courteous couple.'

Gerik, who was drinking out of his refilled cup at the time, made a spluttering sound and gasped as he attempted to pump air back into his lungs. Len didn't bury his face in his hands fast enough to see Salome's face flush slightly.

'We are not a couple,' she said with a slight edge in her voice. 'Master Lucas is my charge, and I his protector.'

Tethys, you dig graves like no other, he thought with an inward sigh. You should get a job as an undertaker. With the number of guys Marisa takes down, you could make a fortune.

'Oh, my apologies,' Tethys said with a graceful bow as Gerik continued to try to both cough, laugh and breathe at the same time in the background. 'I didn't mean to cause offence.'

'No offence was taken,' Lucas assured her with a smile.

'I think that might be enough chat for one night,' Gerik said as he finally subdued his fit. 'The food's getting cold and you must be starving. Eat up and rest up, and I'll brief you about the mission tomorrow.'

*~-0-~*

When they had concluded their meal, Gerik showed them to their rooms. They were not fabulous quarters, as they were neither royalty nor were they staying for more than one night. But after a week or so of rough sleeping, simply having a bed was more than welcome. However, after the rest of the castle had gone to sleep, Marisa stepped out of her room, sword in hand. The confines of her room was too small to be practicing as extensively as she wished, and she did not wish to break anything – not that she would, of course, but her purse at the moment was marginally too light to risk having to pay for damages at Jehanna Hall.

She made her way around the labyrinthine corridors that made up Hall – the five-story castle was by no means an easy place to navigate and she was searching for one room in the hundreds which made up the building. Her cool expression gave way to a slight frown of impatience as she got the impression that she had seen that same corner twice. She turned down another corridor in hopes that perhaps this one led to the training hall, but she suddenly caught sight of somebody standing in a wide room, silhouetted against the moonlight streaming down from an overhead canopy. She pause, unmoving, but the scabbard of the sword in her hand lightly struck the nearby pillar – in the silence of the room, the sound echoed briefly, but enough to make the figure turn around.

'Who's there? Show your – wait. Marisa?'

Now that he had turned around, Marisa could see his face – it was the mage, Len. Figuring there was no point running away, she walked out of the shadows to face him. Len glanced at her sword and grinned. 'You going to practise?'

'Yeah,' she said. 'My room's too small.'

He laughed, the jovial sound rebounding eerily off the silent stone walls. Marisa frowned. 'What are you doing? You said you were resting.'

'Oh, don't worry, I'll definitely get around to that,' he assured her. 'I'm just paying a visit... to my father.'

The swordmaster's confused expression deepened. 'Your fa...! Oh.'

Looking around, Marisa realised where she was – it was the room which had formerly been the resting place of the Sacred Stone of Jehanna, the palace altar. After the war and the destruction of the Hall, it had been rebuilt as a commemorative chapel to the brave Jehannans who lost their lives in the conflict four years ago. Their names were inscribed all over the pearly-white walls, shadowy epitaphs of past heroics thrown into sharper relief by the silvery light of the moon upon the stone face. There was an altar on the far side which now held a different treasure than a holy jewel – the ashes of Ismaire, the late Queen of the White Dunes. Behind the altar was an immense pillar-like structure upon which were carved more names, as well as reliefs that depicted men with swords, standing proudly, looking up at a bright light that was shining from above.

'Do you know the story of this place?' Len asked fondly placing his hand on one of the inscribed stone walls. 'When Jehanna Hall was burnt down by Caellach and the Grado army, our King – well, I guess he was a prince back then – had to leave the corpses of all his fallen countrymen, soldiers and the body of his beloved mother inside in order to escape in time. The bodies of all those men were burnt to the point they were unrecognisable. Except for Queen Ismaire. Her body was miraculously left untouched – covered by the falling rubble, the fire did not reach her. King Joshua thought that it was a gift from the heavens.'

He gave a pensive smile as he looked up at the pillar behind the altar. 'The King swore that he would give all of the warriors of Jehanna who died in the fire a proper burial. But, well... no-one could tell them apart. Heh, of course they couldn't. Their faces were gone.'

Len paused a while, his finger tracing one of the names written on the wall. 'So the King gathered up all of the bodies of the dead, and cremated them. He then had a huge urn built here, in this chapel, and laid all their ashes inside. A lot of people questioned the morality of such an act, but then he told them, "These men laid fought together and died together for their country. What dishonour is there in being laid to rest together with your brothers-in-arms?"

'My father was one of those who died in the rebellion,' he continued. 'He was a commander in the Jehanna army, and was killed by Carlyle, betrayed by his fellow general and his friend. So when I first heard what the King was planning, you can guess how angry I got. But when he said those words... there was nothing I could say.'

He looked up at the ornate pillar that stood behind the altar – the urn in which the ashes of his father and his fellow warriors rested – with a sad look in his eyes. 'I want to be a son who my father can be proud of,' he said. 'But I've still got such a long way to go. I need to get stronger, much stronger than I am now. So that when I stand here, before the eyes of not just my father, but everyone who gave up their lives so that we could keep ours, I can tell them with confidence – "This life was worth saving".'

Len continued to stare up at the urn, till he suddenly seemed to catch himself, and looked back at Marisa with an embarrassed smile. 'Haha... sorry. I had a bit of a cheesy moment there.'

The crimson-haired woman shook her head. 'No. It's right to honour your father.'

They stood in silence for a while, both unwilling to talk for their own reasons – one was trying to think of something to say, and the other being Marisa. Eventually, Len said, 'Marisa, you... d'you miss your father?'

'... Why do you ask?'

'I was just thinking,' he said sheepishly. 'I mean, when I was still just a kid, I remember he'd try to teach me a little of the sword whenever he passed by the castle – I never had any talent for it, but then again, I think he was just doing it to humour my father. I was totally useless, but I always looked forward to his visits for some reason.'

Marisa didn't reply, so Len carried on, 'It's weird, isn't it? It was all such a long time ago... I can barely recall what it was like to have the weight of a sword in my hand anymore. But somehow, I still remember those lessons – the way he held his blade, how he flew across the sand...'

Suddenly, he stopped, realising who he was talking to, and flushed slightly. 'Ah, I'm sorry. What the heck am I talking about... I must be losing my head a bit in all this heat. My bad. I didn't mean to bring up any past ghosts...'

'Forget it. It doesn't matter,' she said curtly, and due to Marisa being so brief with her words all the time, it was difficult for Len to gauge whether she actually did care or not.

'... If it's worth anything, the way you move your sword reminds me a lot of your father,' he said in what he hoped was an encouraging voice.

'No,' Marisa said, turning her head to look up at the moonlit sky so that Len couldn't see her face. 'I'm not there yet.'

Len looked at her standing in the pale silver gleam, her form throwing a long shadow behind her, making her appear taller than she actually was.

She really is a mystery and a half, he said with quiet wonder. She's proper scary when it comes to battle, but the Marisa who's standing there now... she's really something else.

'... Well, I'm sure you'll get there someday,' he assured her. 'Especially with all that training you put in, it's only a matter of time.'

At this, Marisa turned to look at him, as if remembering something. 'Hey.'

For some reason, Len felt an involuntary chill run down his back at the look in Marisa's eyes. 'Uh... yes?'

'Training. You said that we'd fight today.'

Len's heart dropped to somewhere beyond the ground floor of the Hall and dangerously close to the underworld. 'Er... come again? Really? Here? There's got to be at least a dozen different ways this could be seen as sacrilege of some sort –'

'No excuses. Let's get started.'

'W-wait! Yipes! Marisa, watch where you're swinging – woah! C'mon, I don't even have any magic tomes with me...!'


Author's Note: I thought it might be good to have a chapter where we could see some of Len's backstory – I mean, I've been brutally pushing out OCs in quick succession, and haven't given them sufficient time to sort of properly introduce themselves as actual characters rather than placeholders. And there's a nice bit of Len x Marisa here as well, since we get to see some of her history too – which isn't all canon, since I made some of it up :D Please, please, PLEASE read and review – I tend to get awfully disheartened when I don't get any feedback when I'm striving to update as regularly as possible :'(