A/N Welcome back! See? I wasn't lying when I said it'd be out soon. H-hey, put the pitchforks and torches away, please. So sue me (please don't actually), but I'm a student, so cut me some slack, okay? Also, I get easily distracted. Any more excuses would seem shallow and whiney, so I'll go shut myself in a closet so I can actually work on this.
I had originally planned on writing the next two levels of the game into a single chapter here, but I procrastinate, so that didn't happen. Sorry, everyone. I guess I'm just more adept at taking this a level at a time.
Until next time~
-Storm 2017
"Brrrr… F-F-Frebberick, I'm f-f-freebbing!" Lissa complained with chattering teeth as they plodded further through the snowy forest, following a trail through the decently sparse pines. The treck through the mountains had taken a few weeks, Chrom pushing everyone at a fast pace. Due to their small group, and the newly healed pegasus, the split group had been quick to catch up with the rest of the Shepherds, and Sumia had taken to scouting around from the skies. Their travels had apparently been uneventful aside from a few rumors spreading about ghouls attacking villages, but they remained rumors because when one of the deathly beasts were felled, the bodies disappeared. A dead ringer for the Risen that had started popping up all over the continent.
Apparently, the Shepherds needed to finish their business in Regna Ferox quickly as to travel back through the pass before winter, when it would be nigh impossible to traverse. Which was quite ironic, given that Regna Ferox seemed to have snowy weather almost year-round, with summer having the mildest climate, if the books she had read in Ylisstol had been correct. Winter was the harbinger of the most extreme snowstorms, which would make the pass incredibly dangerous, forcing them to take the route around the mountains. That path would take nearly a season to travel, and by then the pass would have opened again.
"Lean closer to your horse, milady. She'll keep you warm," Frederick was sitting straight up on his charger, not looking bothered by the weather whatsoever even though snow was stuck in the cracks of his armor and piled upon his shoulders. Speaking of which, the metal should have been freezing, but he moved quite normally despite that.
Does he even feel the cold?! That guy's not human…
"Buck up, Lissa. It's not so bad," Chrom chuckled before pausing to sneeze into his cloak, which coaxed a barking laugh out of Robin's mouth, forcing her to directly breathe in the frozen air. The prince smiled shyly back at her, clearly embarrassed if the hand rubbing the back of his neck and the blush creeping onto his face were any indication. Or was that just the cold biting at his like it did her own?
"Stop pretending not to be cold…" Lissa grumbled into her mare's mane, the barb aimed at her brother. Her dainty form was flush to her steed, both her army-standard and personal cloaks wrapped tightly over her hunched back. "And why aren't you complaining about the cold, Robin?" The princess suddenly asked, putting the tactician on the spot.
"This coat is really cozy," Robin explained simply after a moment, pulling her hood lower over her face with numb fingers to block the piercing breeze. Her jacket was indeed quite warm, though it hadn't seemed so while they had been in Ylisstol. If fact, there appeared to be some mild enchantment on the garment, as its heat capacity seemed to fluctuate with the temperature. Or she was just over-thinking things again and the cloth was woven to be so versatile. Not for the first time, Robin cursed herself for not remembering to bring heavy-duty gloves. The ones she had bought in Ylisstol had less function than was necessary for snow and ice, given that they only covered the backs of her hands.
"Can I have it, then?" Lissa asked, her voice raised in hopefulness, snapping the tactician out of her thoughts.
"Nope," Robin replied cheerily as the healer deflated against her horse. After a moment, she continued, "But, I suppose you can borrow my cloak, Your Majesty." The two giggled a little as Lissa perked up again, before Robin tossed her friend the traveling cloak that was draped almost uselessly over her coat. Ever since the incident of Lissa very nearly blackmailing her out of bed, the two had kept the running joke of the princess being a proper lady alive and well.
The Shepherds continued in a chilly silence, in which all of them focused on warming their cold fingers or toes, the exception being Vaike's loud and somewhat annoying voice. The axeman had insisted that he was 'man enough' to manage the trek without his cloak. Or shirt. Or anything on his upper body. Not that Robin was complaining. Despite not being the sharpest tool in the shed, Vaike was incredibly charismatic for… a few reasons. Chrom had actually forced the man to put on both garments at the first sign of snow. Actually, as ironic as it was, Vaike probably would have died of hypothermia if he hadn't taken off the only armour he wore; the metal pauldrons that covered his shoulders and neck. The cold steel would have leeched all of the heat from his body, speeding the rate at which he froze.
Why do I know all this? Just who was I?
Robin could feel her mind start to reject the thoughts that tugged painfully at her nonexistent memories, causing the beginnings of a splitting headache. Before the pain could firmly root itself in the back of her skull, the sight before her took her breath away, effectively destroying the train of thought. There, through the tall pines, a large stone fort stretched out in front of them, the ends lost to the snow-filled air. A gatehouse filled a large portion of Robin's vision, the huge cast iron gate starkly contrasting the blinding snow swirling around it. Vaguely, she could also tell the the rest of the Shepherds had stopped behind her.
"So… this is the fortress?" Robin asked cautiously, unsure whether or not this was the same building they had spoken of at the preparation meetings. The Longfort stretched along the Feroxi-Ylissean border, all the way to the Eastern shore; the remnant of times when relations between the two countries had been less than friendly. Things were still a bit tense, but not nearly as bad as they had once been.
"Indeed," Frederick's voice was muffled by the powder snow. "The Khans that rule Regna Ferox are wary of foreigners, but do not mistake lack of hospitality for open hostility." He warned, though whether it was for Chrom or herself, Robin couldn't tell.
"Well, this is going to call for some diplomacy," The prince said aloud, but finished with a mutter that only she and his retainer could hear. "Negotiations aren't exactly my strong suit, but we don't exactly have any other options." In a louder voice, he called out to the rest of the group. "Remember, everyone; your actions here reflect upon the whole of Ylisse. Mind your tongues and try not to insult anyone." They gave out various cries of assent, the most vocal of which was, unsurprisingly, Vaike.
They marched forward, Chrom and Frederick at the head with Lissa and Robin close behind. The tactician was doing her best to discretely survey the upcoming area, and was both helped and harmed by the falling crystals. It was harder to see, but the storm also covered her face, making it nearly unreadable. The hood didn't hurt, either.
There appeared to be two smaller entrances, one on either side of the main one, each with a staircase leading up to presumably locked wooden doors that were set back from the outer shell. While the walls themselves were solid stone brick, the ramparts above were notched and the few windows were tall and thin. Perfect for archers to fire from. A flicker of motion caught Robin's eye before she could truly process this, the dulled glint of metal both amplified and smothered by the snow. Frederick reacted to the threat first.
"Trouble brews, milord," He warned as he motioned for the Shepherds to halt. "The Feroxi Guard are mobilizing."
"What?" The prince exclaimed, squinting to see what his retainer's sharp eye had already caught. "Why?! We've taken no aggressive action!"
"Aside from waltzing up to their front door with a half dozen heavily armoured individuals…" Robin muttered, earning herself a glare from both the Lord and his retainer, with varying levels of intensity. Just as she said this, one of the Feroxi soldiers appeared over the very center of the gate. She was wearing a heavy set of armour, quite unlike most of her fellow Feroxi. Most of them wore mismatched leather tunics or just fur vests, carrying a mixture of lances, axes and swords. Possibly even a few archers were hiding out of view, if they were using the fort to the best of their ability. Even from that distance, some of the weapons seemed roughly repaired, and all of which were somewhat unique, not military staple. Speaking of weapons, those with spears had poised themselves by the edge of the wall, the very sharp tips expertly trained upon Chrom. If the rest of the military reflected these border soldiers' skill, then Regna Ferox had certainly earned the title of Warrior Realm.
"Be careful, Chrom." Robin murmured worriedly, though it was unlikely he heard her.
"I'll be fine. I have a brilliant tactician watching my back," She started, the prince glancing back at her with an assured grin.
"Just don't get cocky," The tactician warned him. Was there a flustered blush sprawled across her own face now? Or just the biting winds turning her cheeks red? "I'm sure everyone would rather have a bad deal than a dead prince."
"Halt!" The woman in thick steel-plate armour, presumably the commander, cried down at Chrom, her lance in hand. "Who goes there?!" Stepping forward alone, hands clearly in front of him, he called back.
"In the name of House Ylisse, I seek an audience with the Khans!" Silently praying to Naga, he hoped naïvely that simple request would suffice.
"Not another step, my bold lad!" The Feroxi Commander warned as she moved her spear into a ready stance. "I've lancers at the ready!" As if to accentuate her point, the Feroxi soldiers with said weapons shook them menacingly, the jangling of loose metal parts barely reaching his ears.
"Hold, milady!" Frederick called out, jumping from the saddle and stepping forward as well, arms raised in non-threatening positions. "We are not your enemy! Exalt Emmeryn herself sent us to discuss matters of mutual interest."
"My only interest is keeping you out of Regna Ferox, brigand!" She snarled, baring her teeth. A couple of shocked gasps emitted from the Shepherds behind Chrom. Most of them had loyally served Ylisse for years; for a few, being called a brigand was as great an insult as being called a murderer. He himself was stung by her words, but before he could calm his companions, Frederick spoke out again, clearly enraged.
"B-brigands!? Now see here-" The prince could tell that his retainer was not going to stop until the Feroxi commander had retracted her comment, so he cut Frederick off before the knight made things worse.
"Milady, as I said earlier, we seek an audience with the Khans to discuss a matter of mutual interest." He said as calmly as he could, resisting the urge to draw Falchion and ask instead for a duel of single combat. Though he had sense enough to continue a diplomatic approach, Emmeryn would also not approve of them fighting to get in, especially when they sought aid.
"Do you really think you're the first 'Ylisseans' to try and cross our border?" The commander drawled, as if bored with the Shepherds' presence. "I have authority to fell such importers where they stand!" She spat in their direction, rubbing salt in the wound she had opened moments ago.
"How dare you! You are in the presence of Prince Chrom of Ylisse! Our Grace's own flesh and blood!" Frederick retorted furiously, tensing up as though he wanted to charge the entire gatehouse solo.
"Yes, and I'm the Queen of Valm!" Sarcasm dripped from the Feroxian's tone as she jeered, scowling fiercely. "You do realize that impersonating royalty is a capital offense, yes? Besides, I've seen half a dozen more convincing 'Chrom's than you just this week! I'm done trying to barter with thieves and plunderers. Time to see whether or not your claims hold true!" To punctuate the end of her speech, she flung her spear, and her fellow soldiers followed suit. Chrom had no doubt of the accuracy of the speeding projectiles.
Time slowed down as his senses sharpened to a point, each falling snowflake becoming detailed as though he were looking through a lens, his heart pounding in his head. He could see his life flashing before his eyes, leading up to the moments when he would be impaled. Mother and Father standing proudly above him with a wide-eyed Emmeryn. Him stumbling around, trying to lift Falchion as a child with Father watching on. Lissa gazing up at them out of her cradle as a newborn, already curious of the world. The siblings being told they would never see either Father or Mother ever again. Him training rigorously with Frederick in hopes of living up to his position. Joking around with the Shepherds after missions, usually with alcohol. Finding Robin in the field near Southtown. The Risen, and now Frederick, Robin, Lissa and all of the other Shepherds calling out in desperation, trying to save his life. He reached to unsheath Falchion, but the lances were flying too fast. He would never be able to deflect nor dodge them.
Time sped back up as a sudden, nearly painful force jerked him from the ground, moments before he would have been skewered, and he felt himself land on the back of a creature. Refocusing, he saw the familiar hair of a friend not far from his face, the snow flying past in little white blurs.
"Sumia?" He asked, dazed from the speed at which she had pulled him from the ground. They were skimming through the air with no less ease than horses galloped, the pegasus underneath them seeming quite comfortable with two riders despite being mid-flight. That was most likely due to it being larger than your average charger, with a wingspan of over twice his height.
"Better hang on, Captain. Could get bumpy," Sumia reminded him, looking back with a small smile. "You'll be fine."
His attention was diverted from pondering whether or not he should thank the pegasus as well when sharp objects flew past his gaze, drawing it to the ramparts beneath where Feroxi soldiers were tossing spears at them, the pegasus knight expertly dodging all.
"Sumia!" He repeated over the whistling winds, unsheathing Falchion as he did so.
"Right!" She answered confidently, falling into a steep dive and pulling neatly out of it, landing softly next to the Shepherds.
Robin, and the rest of the Shepherds, all let out an audible sigh of relief as they realized Sumia had saved Chrom, and focused back upon the enemy. Falling back to the trees, they began to regroup and find their heads again. The Feroxi responsible for the near impaling of the Ylissean prince were scuttling about the ramparts, foot soldiers pouring from the side doors she had noted earlier and archers appearing on the notched outer wall, just as she suspected might happen. While Chrom had been attempting to parlay with the commander, she had been absorbing every detail about the fort and inhabiting army possible from their vantage point. Though it was apparently common knowledge that the soldiers, or even every day people, of Regna Ferox were incredibly strong, it appeared that they had little in the department of strategy. The foot soldiers had no visible attack formation aside from 'don't get in each other's way,' and the archers above seemed to be placed sporadically upon the ramparts.
Turning back to her companions, she glanced around. Everyone was clearly relieved, herself included, some thanking Sumia for her excellent timing, mainly Frederick. The young pegasus knight nodded woodenly, clearly flustered from the attention. As soon as they had all calmed enough to think straight, they all looked to Chrom for directions. He, in turn, looked to her.
"Any ideas, Robin?" He asked, the rest Shepherds, all looked at her for guidance, putting her on the spot. She turned to face the fort, partially to hide her growing nerves and partially to examine the enemy positions. Slowly, a plan began to form, a small smile with it. Facing them again, she answered confidently.
"Yes. Yes I do."
"And remember, don't kill anyone; we're here to ask for help, not make an enemy." Robin reminded them as she finished, almost as an afterthought. She trusted them, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
Each group member nodded after they had been addressed, apparently understanding the plan. The two she had called out at the end of her group-lecture understood the part they played as well. Since she was so new, a few of the more vocal members grumbled a little, but for the most part the Shepherds obeyed her orders without complaint. They separated into their appropriate formations, using the tree line as cover, waiting on her command to charge. Judging from the enemy positions, rate of motion, and range, they still had some time before the optimal time to launch their attack...
"Robin," She whipped around, startled at the voice ripping her from her thoughts.
"What?" She snapped back, but as she turned the bark died in her throat. "Oh. Er, Frederick, what do you need?" She quickly amended herself in a friendlier tone, silently cursing at her thick skull. She should have known better than to snap at anyone, much less the least friendly knight in Ylisse.
"I'll be straight to the point; while your plan is strategically sound, at least at first glance, would it not be more efficient to challenge the commander to one-on-one combat?" He asked calmly, as though she hadn't snapped at him.
"It wouldn't do much good," Robin shook her head, choosing to ignore the barb as she pulled her hood up further against the cold. "She's furious at us; I doubt she would take the request as an honest duel. Would you trust a Plegian's word to a fair fight?" He shook his head adamantly, but clearly didn't want to drop his idea. She sighed.
"Look, if it was possible, I would go with that above any other option. Fewer people, fewer variables, fewer injuries. But the Feroxians aren't just going to let that happen. They expected, and therefore wanted, us to be Plegians. People often believe what they want to, not what is. If only everyone could be open-minded as Emmeryn, the world would be a much better place." Robin didn't realize all she had said until she had finished, startled at her own words. Despite the suddenness of them, she had meant every one. Each syllable of her speech had held true weight and meaning, as though she had experienced the cruelty of the world first-hand. That was certainly possible, but that was a headache for another day. It seemed the less she actually thought, the more she truly was herself. Frederick looked almost as surprised as she felt, but backed away respectfully with a nod, understanding written across his face.
"Truer words could not have come from you," He gave in and turned, striding back to his team, the weight of his words sinking in. It hit her like a brick. He practically expected her to be an enemy; it made sense, as he had only known her a few weeks. It wasn't the worst thing in the world to at least be wary of her, but it still hurt. The Shepherds were the only thing she knew: she had nothing else to fall back upon besides vague intuition and gut instinct. She had simply assumed that they trusted her as she trusted them. But that wasn't how the world worked. She needed to prove herself to them, prove that she was worthy.
Robin shook it out of her head. She didn't need a distraction, and neither did the Shepherds. She was just as important to them as Chrom, and she couldn't disappoint. Though important, the Shepherds could function without her. They had survived without her for a long time, and she wasn't ingrained as an ally as deeply as most. But they couldn't do that without Chrom, and it was her job to keep them all safe.
"Now!" At the single command, the Shepherds rushed forward, battle-cries echoing off the stone walls of the fort. Robin was at the head of her team, brandishing her rapier while casting minor spells single-handed. Had she her book and both hands, she could have used much more devastating magic, but that was not her role to play. She needed to lead from the front, not cast from the back.
Adrenaline pumped through her system as the Feroxi warriors reached the Shepherds, weapons clashing again and again. With a small flourish, Robin struck her first opponent in the side, purposefully slicing at his leather armour. He gritted his teeth at the action, slashing at her with a large axe. She dodged and parried the wild, nearly formless swings, annoying him with more jabs and prods to distract him from the mana pooling in her left hand. A little more positioning, and… she flung her open hand at his chest.
"Wind!" The point-blank spell sent the Feroxian flying backwards into a large pine some distance away, a satisfying thunk and the snapping of branches confirming the hit. He would have a nasty headache and a few broken bones, but nothing magic couldn't heal. Despite the ease that she had disposed of her opponent, had any one of his attacks landed she would have been seriously injured.
Taking a moment to glance around, she saw the other Shepherds in similar bouts: Kellam blocked an arrow from hitting Virion as he returned fire, the red and green knights tag-teaming, their mobility wreaking havoc among the unmounted enemies' ranks. In the distance she could see Miriel's magic flashing through the flurry. All things considered, it was going well.
Something flashed, just outside the field of her vision. Instinct kicked in, her body moving before she could process the danger. A loud clang as metal clashed against metal, and she found herself bracing her rapier with both hands, the Feroxi warrior assaulting her struggling for a vantage. The cold steel started leeching any warmth still in her numb fingers, slowly becoming a little more comfortable to hold. Mentally, she cursed herself for zoning out in the middle of a freaking battle.
"Sand-rat," The Feroxi woman spat, the intended effect of the apparent slur lost to Robin. Instead of responding, she roared, throwing her entire weight forward, and with a twist of her blade she disarmed her opponent of her axe in the process.
"You little-" The woman started swearing loudly, which the tactician took as an opportunity to knock her out. Just as Robin was swinging the pommel of her sword, the Feroxian pulled a dagger out of nowhere. Robin had just enough time to lean backwards, gasping as the knife skinned her forehead, stinging with cold and pain. Backing away and assuming a more defensive stance, she lit a fire in her off hand. The dancing light was enough to distract the Feroxian, giving Robin the opening she needed. Shooting the burning magic at her opponent, Robin used it as cover to advance, moving within arms range. As quickly as she could, she pulled the woman into a headlock, cutting off her supply of air until she stopped struggling. With a quick check, Robin made sure she was still breathing, then hurried forward, the wind blowing her hood down.
"M'Lady!" Virion flagged her down, something clutched in his fist. As she approached the archer, she could see it was an iron key. A quick look around told her that they were safe for a moment.
"Well done," She took the key, slipping it into one of her many hidden pockets. There were so many that she was still finding new ones. With a quick flick of the wrist, she pooled a large amount of mana into her palm, creating a fist-sized fireball. She held it in both hands, winding up to toss it high into the air. Just as she was about to release it, an explosion appeared above where the other team was; Miriel's signal that the other team they had acquired their key. With a small smile, Robin released her own fireball, and a similar magic show burst to life above her. The moment the orb left her hand, she swooned slightly, the spell taking more of her power than she had liked. She had to conserve her magic from now on, if she wanted to continue fighting.
"My lady, you are injured!" Virion exclaimed, perhaps because of her apparent exhaustion, making a show of wiping something from her forehead with a handkerchief. Where he had gotten it from, she had no clue, but it was covered in blood when the archer pulled it away.
"Head wounds always bleed excessively, so this is normal," She retorted, trying to cover her signs of weakness, waving him off despite the fact that the cut stung like hell and was probably still bleeding. "We haven't time to fool around like this. I'll be fine."
"If you wish," The archer said respectfully, bowing slightly.
"C'mon, we have to get moving if my plan is going to work," Robin waved for Virion to follow as she made her way to the stone stairway, where the others were already gathering.
"Any serious injuries?" Was the first question out of her mouth, though she could already tell they were fine. A few had similar cuts and scrapes to her own, but nothing potentially life all gave monosyllabic answers in confirmation.
Silently, they lined up at the wooden door, cavaliers unmounted but leading their horses by the reins, Kellam at the front with the appropriated key in hand. Robin had already given the signal that her team was ready: a bolt of lightning, this time, with much the same drain as the previous one. But she had to continue forward. Now, they were just waiting for Miriel's que. They needn't have waited long, as the mage's flare went up quickly.
They burst through the doorway, Virion hanging back near the choke point with Robin. She could see Chrom's team pouring out onto the ramparts, Frederick already back on his horse. Between them were the remaining Feroxi Guard, in a tight defensive formation. Their commander was near to the center, dismay and hatred clear on her sharp features. Slowly, the Shepherds advanced, spreading out so that they semi-surrounded the Feroxians.
"Ready to surrender?" Chrom called out, a barely distinguishable note of hope in his voice.
"Plegian Scum!" The knight shrieked back. "How dare you kill my people and expect no resistance!" Frederick seemed ready to actually spear her, but the Prince stopped him with a raised arm.
"On the contrary," He spoke calmly, stepping forward after sheathing Falchion, "You'll find them completely alive, if not bruised. Not one life was taken today," He then nodded at Robin, who let out a short burst of electricity over the wall, into dead air. A few moments later, Sumia rose from the ground below, her pegasus burdened by two additional riders. One was Lissa, who was trying to keep the third, a struggling guard, from tumbling off the creature.
As amusing as it must have been to watch them land, the tactician struggled to stay upright after that last display of magic, instantly wishing she hadn't as a wave of nausea rolled over her. She had no strength, and breathing was becoming harder by the minute. Chrom continued to speak with the Commander, but she could no longer hear what they were saying, their voices melding into one sound and vision blurring.
"Lady Robin?" Someone was speaking to her. Turning slightly, she could see Virion at her shoulder, looking worried: a rare expression, for him. "I apologise to say, but you look ill."
"I… I'm fine." Was her only answer, but clearly was not the case. Her voice started ringing inside her own head, and the world was becoming darker by the moment.
"I'll… be..." She couldn't finish the sentence, instead collapsing forward, though not remembering if she hit the ground or not.
A/N This was supposed to be out in December, but you can see how that ended up. You have no one to blame but me and my lazy ass, and that I totally didn't overhauled a good chunk of this last-minute, so I apologise. In the meantime, what did you think of this one? I hope the fight scene was easy enough to follow: they're difficult to choreograph.
Also… NOHRIAN SCUM! ...okay, just had to get that out of my system after that one line.
One small note completely unrelated to everything else, you might have noticed I switched the rating to T. Nothing of note is going to happen for a while, so I'll keep the lower rating until them.
Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed. Please come back next time, when we'll finally find out what happened to Robin. Also world-building.
-Storm 2017
