Chapter 7
Felicia rose slowly, shaking the stars out of her eyes as she desperately tried to remember what had happened.
She'd… tripped. Fallen while she was following Corrin back across the canyon, not paying attention to where her feet were landing and catching her toes on a rock.
Groaning and gingerly bringing her hand to her throbbing nose she gave a slight gasp, her fingers coming away wet with blood. Clearly she'd landed on her face hard. How long she had been unconscious for she didn't know.
She couldn't let Corrin see her like this…
Shaking her head again, she forcer her groggy mind clear.
Where was Corrin?
Where were his brothers and sisters, and where were Hans and Gunter?
She squinted against the wind, shuddering as thunder boomed above her and lighting split the sky. There, on the opposite side of the canyon, the light reflecting off of Hoshidan armor caught her eye. It wasn't safe for her to remain there, but something on the other side of the canyon had caught her eye. A figure, apart from the rest. A muscular form bending down to inspect something on the ground before hoisting it up onto their back.
Lighting flashed again, accompanied by more thunder. A few drops of rain began to patter down on the stone around Felicia, the raindrops stinging where they hit her bruised face.
However this all went unnoticed by the maid, a knife of fear drove itself into her heart as the lightning illuminated the lone form's burden. Prince Corrin, unconscious and head lolling, was being taken by the Hoshidans.
Scrambling to her feet and struggling not to hyperventilate, Felicia took stock of the situation. Corrin was being taken prisoner. Between her and him were an entire garrison's worth of Hoshidan soldiers, no doubt reinforced now from their own capital. She'd never be able to fight her way through them, but if she were fast she could catch up with the other Princes and Princesses, warn them, and maybe as a group they could storm the fort and save Corrin together.
Her mind made up Felicia turned away from the canyon, heart wrenching at the thought of leaving Corrin behind for even a second, and began to run back towards Nohr.
Fortunately it appeared that Corrin's brothers and sisters hadn't gone far, setting up a small camp away from the canyon to take shelter from the rain, which had quickly become a downpour. Felicia guessed she must have looked frightful, soaked to the skin, hair and clothes disheveled, blood running down her face. But the thought of Corrin in Hoshidan hands spurred her on, until she at last came upon the retainer Laslow, standing sentry for the royals out in the rain with a miserable expression on his face.
"Miss Felicia?" he asked curiously. "What are you doing here? We thought you had gone ahead with Lord Corrin's party."
Felicia shook her head, gasping for breath and struggling not to double over.
"C-Corrin's been captured!" she practically screamed.
As Corrin woke he did so slowly, reluctantly. More-so than usual. Everything hurt. It felt like he'd been doing another marathon training session with Gunter, like he had when he'd been a boy and the Knight had still been…
Corrin bolted into a sitting position, hissing in pain as he held his ribs.
Gunter had been thrown into the canyon.
"G-Gunter!? Gunter!? Felicia!?" he called, looking around the strange room.
With another pained hiss he slowly climbed to his feet, examining his surroundings. A polished wooden floor beneath him, strange, paneled walls that seemed to have some form of paper fixed to them as decoration. The ceiling was high, naked joists holding up what appeared to be a tiled roof. Beneath him was a strange, thin mattress with a thick blanket atop of it that he'd been sleeping in. In the center of the room was a hearth, cold as if not having been used. Corrin blinked at the strange architecture, stumbling over to one of the walls and reaching out to steady himself. He felt the wall give a little and pulled back. The walls weren't covered in paper. They were made out of paper.
"What in the hells…" he murmured.
The prince glanced down at himself, naked except for his tattered pants and the thick bandages around his middle. He winced as he probed at the bandages, recalling the way Hans had hacked into him. But the pain in his memory was muted, as if it had happened years ago. Smirking, Corrin figured that sometimes his strange malady was good for something, at least. No doubt the wound would leave yet another scar, though.
One of the sections of wall slid to the side, revealing a familiar scowling face as Corrin turned to it.
"Stop shouting," the Hoshidan woman Rinkah spat. "It's still early. You'll wake the whole damn village up."
Corrin blinked a few times, trying to see if he was hallucinating her outlandish attire or not. She stepped into the room, tying off a strip of cloth around her hand. Both arms were wrapped to the elbows in the cloths, and she wore a pair of loose trousers, but no shoes. Or top, for that matter, her breasts covered in more of the cloth wrapping. At first Corrin worried she'd been wounded at some stage, too, and was covered in bandages but as she crossed the room to him her movements were a clear indication that she was fine.
What really brought the Prince up short, though, was the perfect, chiseled abdominals that the Hoshidan had on display. Corrin was fit, far fitter than many he was sure. But he'd never seen abs like that, least of all on a woman. Even Xander, who could run rings around him, didn't have a stomach like that. Even her shoulders and arms, now visible without the rags she'd been forced to wear in Nohr, were far more muscular than his own.
Before Corrin could object Rinkah was at his side, roughly putting his arm over her shoulders and half-dragging him out of the room.
"Wh-where are we…" he managed to rasp, realizing just how thirsty he was.
"The kitchen," Rinkah said gruffly.
Neither of them said any more as Rinkah dragged Corrin through the strange building, down a long and dark hallway similar to his room. He barely noticed, numb with the sensation of loss.
Gunter was gone. There was no way anyone could survive that fall, especially not if the Canyon was bottomless.
But, Corrin thought with a small glimmer of hope, hadn't he survived?
Rinkah kicked another sliding section of wall to the side, revealing a kitchen area outside of the main building. They descended a set of low steps into a covered area, and she set him down on the lowest step before moving to a large cooking stove at the edge of the kitchen. She returned after a few moments, placing a small wooden bowl the size of a cup into his hands. Outside, past the open kitchen, Corrin could see the dark, cloudy sky, a few raindrops falling. In the distance he could see the smoke rising from other cooking fires, and further away he could see the glistening white tops of the nearby mountains. As they stepped outside their breath fogged in front of their faces, the mist from Rinkah's exhales so thick it was almost smoke.
"Drink," she said. "It's soup. It'll make you feel better."
Corrin did as he was told, taking a few tentative sips. The soup was a cloudy, pale green colour, but was actually quite tasty, if a little too hot. He found himself feeling nostalgic as he sipped, Rinkah waiting in silence, leaning with her shoulder against the wall of the building they had just come out of and watching disinterestedly.
"Where are we?" Corrin asked when his throat wasn't as parched as before.
"The Flame Tribe Village," Rinkah stated. "In the Northern Hoshido Mountains."
Corrin went still for a moment before sighing and lowering his cup-bowl.
"So I'm your prisoner, then?" he asked without looking up.
"Seems that way," Rinkah answered.
"What will you do with me?"
Rinkah sighed, a harsh sound as she blew air through her nose, and moved to stand in front of Corrin. The Prince glanced up at her, surprised to see a distasteful frown on her face. After a moment, he realized that the markings on her cheeks he'd taken for tattoos when they had first met were gone, too.
"I'm going to take you South, to Shirasagi," she explained. "Our Chieftain has decided to give you to the Hoshidans as a token of goodwill. There's a storm to the south, though, and it is too dangerous to travel through the mountains. An envoy from Hoshido is supposed to be meeting us but has been delayed. We will leave as soon as it clears and he arrives."
"You don't seem too happy about that," Corrin pointed out.
"I just got home," Rinkah spat. "I'm in no great hurry to leave again. Besides… no, never mind. Give me that."
She snatched the empty bowl out of Corrin's hands, moving to the stove to refill it.
"I thought you were Hoshidan?" Corrin called after her.
Rinkah snorted as she poured a second bowl of soup for herself, rejoining Corrin at the stairs.
"The Flame Tribe is independent," she explained. "Not that you can tell, these days. Drink. You need to regain your strength. You've been unconscious for a week now."
Corrin went to take another sip of the oddly familiar soup, hesitating when what she said sunk in.
"A week?" Corrin asked slowly. "I've been out for a week?"
"I only just said as much," Rinkah snorted.
"Yes, and she barely left your side for the entire week."
Rinkah grimaced at the new voice, Corrin jumping a little and glancing over his shoulder. A large, bald man of late middle age stood in the doorway, grinning down at the Prince. He wore no shirt, but similar black trousers to the ones that Rinkah wore. At his hip was what appeared to be a large gourd, and he rested his hand on it as he stepped around Corrin and out into the kitchen.
"Chieftain," Rinkah greeted, hostility radiating from her.
"My daughter is shy," the man chuckled. "I am Kumagera, Chieftain of this tribe. And you must be Prince Corrin of Nohr."
"I am," Corrin said, standing.
Kumagera studied Corrin for a moment, looking him up and down before nodding in satisfaction and stepping up to the Prince.
"It is a pleasure to receive you, Prince of Nohr," Kumagera said as he slapped Corrin on the back. "We do not get many outsiders here in our village. Please enjoy our hospitality until the weather passes. Rinkah will continue to take care of you until then."
"She took care of me before?" Corrin asked, casting a glance at the surly woman.
"Of course!" Kumagera laughed. "We couldn't well let you die, not when she owes her life to you! We couldn't get her to leave you alone either, and we tried! She even lay with you at night so you didn't get cold!"
"Chieftain!" Rinkah snapped. "Haven't you got work to do!?"
Kumagera laughed, a deep, throaty sound as he doubled over with both hands on his stomach. Rinkah seethed, blushing up to her ears and refusing to meet Corrin's gaze as she glared at her father.
"Get him cleaned up, and then bring him to Ikoshi," the older man laughed. "He stinks to the high heavens!"
"I… can hear you," Corrin muttered.
"Good!" Kumagera chuckled as he stepped back into the house. "At least we know your ears are still working!"
They stood in silence for a moment, staring at the space that the boisterous chieftain had just vacated, before Corrin's legs began to tremble and he had to sit back down. Rinkah sighed, snatching his empty bowl away again and refilling it a second time.
While she was gone Corrin gave himself a quick, curious sniff, reeling back as he did so. He'd smelled bad before, especially after particularly strenuous training sessions, but he didn't remember himself ever smelling quite like this. A sour, sickly sweet aroma emanated from him, stronger near his midsection. A combination of medicinal herbs and a tangier, underlying scent that couldn't be described other than he stank like sickness.
"I'd like to bathe," Corrin said when Rinkah returned, his voice tired.
"I will take you to my Tribe's healer," she said, sounding quite tired herself. "Then we will go and bathe at the springs to the west of the village."
Corrin nodded, gratefully accepting his third bowl of the infuriatingly familiar soup.
"What's this soup called?" he finally asked.
"Miso," Rinkah grunted.
Corrin nodded again, sipping from his bowl. He'd have to get the recipe. No doubt Elise and Leo would love to try it.
About an hour later Corrin found himself looking up at an impressive wooden shrine of some sort, a raised building like all the others in the village they had passed, but far grander than even Kumagera's house.
The Flame Tribe village itself was quiet as they had wandered through it, due no doubt to the miserable weather, but people still went about their daily business. Corrin spotted farmers out tending fields in the distance, while numerous times they had passed the fires of blacksmith's forges, the rhythmic clanking of smithies working sounding from within. Corrin was surprised at how peaceful the village felt, despite the rising tensions between the two nations. But, if what Rinkah had said was true, the Flame Tribe had nothing to fear if Hoshido went to war with Nohr. Not if they weren't aligned with the larger nation. How long their neutrality would last if open hostilities broke out Corrin couldn't guess, but still…
"How long are you going to stand there staring at it?" Rinkah growled.
Muttering a quick apology to the woman, Corrin shifted his weight on her shoulder and they began to walk towards the temple again. After only about five minutes he'd been forced to accept her help in walking through the town, draping one arm across her shoulders and letting her take his weight as they travelled. She had done so without a word of complaint, but Corrin would have been a fool to miss the way her brow had wrinkled when she'd caught a whiff of his offensive scent, and it had made him blush furiously in embarrassment.
"So is there a healer here?" Corrin asked to try and ease the mood.
Rinkah grunted and nodded.
Corrin wasn't surprised by this revelation; after all, the clerics and healers of Nohr were mostly servants of the Dusk Dragon's temples and cathedrals. It made sense that the Hoshidan healers would worship their equivalent.
The temple was raised off the ground nearly two feet, a wide staircase leading to a balcony that wrapped around the entirety of the building that Corrin could see. More of the strange wood-framed-paper panels sat in sections of wooden walls, a wide tiled roof extending out to cover the balcony. A large chimney extended from the otherwise perfect roof, though, and as Corrin and Rinkah got closer the air around the temple became hotter and dryer. Just inside of the doorway was a wooden partition board, a dancing flame pattern painted delicately onto it.
Rinkah finally set him down at the top of the steps to the temple, glaring at him for a moment.
"Wait here," she grunted before disappearing inside.
Corrin sat in silence for a few moments, curiously looking closer at the temple as his back was assailed by the heat from within, before Rinkah returned leading what could only be the shrine's priestess. A thin, older woman with thin grey hair followed Rinkah out of the temple, a wry half-smile on her face. Her white and red robes were sleeveless, and her feet were wrapped in more of the bindings Rinkah was wearing instead of socks or shoes. However, as she got closer Corrin realized why Rinkah was leading the woman; her eyes were milky white and unseeing. The priestess was blind.
"What stinks?" the old woman asked without preamble.
"Your patient," Rinkah said, a hint of laughter in her gruff voice.
The woman barked a harsh laugh, shaking her head.
"This is the boy you brought me a week ago?" she said. "I told you to change his dressings."
"That's what you're here for," Rinkah shrugged. "He's heavy. It was too much work."
"It's, uh, nice to meet you," Corrin said, slowly rising to his feet and casting a weak glare at Rinkah.
"Oh! He's awake this time!" the priestess said. "Well I'll be. I thought he'd be out for another few days at the least, with a wound like that. Color me impressed, child."
"I'm Corrin," he said, stepping up to the balcony now.
The Prince didn't miss the way that Rinkah shifted to block his access to the temple itself, but chose to ignore her.
"I am Ikoshi," the priestess said. "Although most of the villagers these days just call me grandmother. Come. Sit. Let me tend to the wounds your guardian ignored."
"He's fine," Rinkah pouted, crossing her arms.
Corrin did as he was instructed, crouching down before sitting cross-legged. Unnervingly, Ikoshi knelt down, too, sitting on her haunches directly before Corrin, her movements not matching the Prince's thoughts of someone unable to see. With practiced, deft hands the priestess removed Corrin's bandages, her nose wrinkling as she did so.
"Bah, girl, I told you to air this wound," Ikoshi spat. "At least it doesn't smell infected. Bring me my staff."
Rinkah grunted again before disappearing into the shrine, leaving Corrin alone with the old priestess.
"You have no qualms about treating a Nohrian Prince?" he asked curiously.
Ikoshi paused for a moment before smiling at him.
"Are you wounded?" she asked.
"Yes?" Corrin answered uncertainly.
"Then my duty is clear, be you Nohrian Prince or Hoshidan peasant. A healer heals the wounded, boy, regardless of where they're from."
Corrin nodded, dumbstruck by the old woman's altruism. Her fingers brushed over his body as she inspected his wounds, making small humming sounds as she brushed over the multitude of scars on his flank before gently prodding at his wound, making him grimace and suck in a pained breath through clenched teeth.
"Oh hush," Ikoshi chuckled. "Are you a man or not?"
The Prince smirked a little as Rinkah reappeared, holding a thin, curious staff in her hands. It had strange, flowing paper hanging down from its head, but aside from that it was easily distinguishable as a healing staff. Ikoshi held up her hand without turning and a stone-faced Rinkah handed it to her before stepping back and crossing her arms again, watching indifferently.
To his surprise, though, Ikoshi began to chant softly. It wasn't a familiar chant, like that of a spell, though; it sounded reverent and serene, like a prayer. Almost like a song.
A gentle smile rose to Corrin's lips as the familiar embrace of healing magic enveloped him, surrounding and permeating his body. Of course, the pleasant sensations were soon overridden by the feeling of his open side knitting itself back together, but the Prince managed to maintain his dignity and remain silent this time. Ikoshi must have been quite the healer, too, as within a matter of moments all that was left of Corrin's injury was a nasty scar and a familiar lingering ache.
"And there you are, my boy," Ikoshi sighed. "Good as new."
Corrin nodded, letting out a breath and muttering his thanks as he stood and carefully twisted his body, testing the healing. A familiar twinge of lingering pain was all that met his efforts, no resistance at all. The Prince glanced up at Rinkah, still looking on disinterestedly.
"Is there somewhere I can do some training around here?"
Corrin whirled and spun, the wooden training sword dancing in his hands as he worked the cobwebs from his stiff and tired limbs.
Rinkah had led him to a square of packed earth, back near Kumagera's house, and tossed the wooden sword to him. Wasting no time and ignoring the light icy rain that fell on his bare shoulders Corrin set about running the drills Xander and Gunter had beaten into him over the years.
With a snarl Corrin flipped sideways, bringing his sword down in a particularly advanced and brutal technique that Gunter had shown him, imagining the wooden sword cutting deep into Hans' chest.
He would pay. As soon as Corrin was back in Nohr, as soon as he finished explaining himself to the Hoshidans, Hans would pay with his life.
The Prince stopped, allowing his aching muscles to cool off for a moment as he caught his breath. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of someone else entering the training ground, Rinkah looking at him expectantly. She was resting a wooden club, similar to the one she'd wielded in Nohr, on one shoulder, leaving no doubt to her intentions.
"Going to beat your prisoner now?" Corrin asked, his voice a little harsher than he intended.
Rinkah just grinned, smearing two red lines of war-paint beneath her eyes with the edge of her thumb.
"If he doesn't defend himself," she said. "I want a chance to redeem my pride."
Corrin nodded, turning to face her fully and saluting her with his wooden sword.
"Very well, then," he declared. "Then the Third Prince of Nohr accepts your challenge, Rinkah of the Flame Tribe."
The woman didn't say anything more, her grin only growing as they began to circle each other. Corrin could see, now, the way her body moved; tight and coiled, like a snake about to strike. She was clearly just like him, having trained every day for most of her life for one purpose alone. War.
With a guttural war cry Rinkah threw herself forward, bringing the heavier club down at Corrin's head. He sidestepped easily, reeling back when Rinkah's foot connected soundly with his hip. Only years of training and instinct had made him pull away from the blow meant for his stomach, catching it on the bone instead. She hissed, hopping back and glaring at him. She was faster, now, and far more agile. Corrin reassessed just how dangerous the Flame Tribe woman was as they squared off again.
He was the first one to move this time, stepping forward and feinting high before stabbing at her shoulder. Rinkah just grinned again, slapping the blade away with the palm of her hand and charging with her shoulder, forcing Corrin back this time. They began circling each other again, Corrin panting heavier than he expected. Clearly he was unfit after a week unconscious.
"If this were a real sword you'd have lost your hand," Corrin pointed out between gasps.
Rinkah shook her head, still grinning.
"Not a Hoshidan one," she almost purred. "They are made with a single blade. Easy to deflect if the angle is right."
"And if it were a double-edged Nohrian blade?" Corrin persisted.
"Then I'd learn to fight one-handed," Rinkah shrugged.
After a moment the woman sighed and relaxed her posture, casting a withering glare at Corrin.
"This is useless unless you are at full strength," she spat. "There is no challenge in beating you like this. No honor."
"I thought I was doing okay," Corrin laughed.
Rinkah's sour face went blank for a moment before she chuckled and grinned, resting her club on her shoulder again.
"I want to face your true might with my own, Nohrian Princeling," she said, her tone softer. "Until I do, I will not be satisfied."
Corrin relaxed now, too, grinning and shaking his head.
"Give me two weeks," he said. "Two weeks and I'll beat the hell out of you at full strength again. And in the meantime, you could try calling me by name."
Rinkah frowned again, but the expression didn't hold the disdain it had before.
"Very well, Corrin," she said, saying his name slowly as if tasting a food for the first time.
"Well met, Rinkah," he said, wiping the wet hair from his grinning face before holding his hand out to her.
She actually turned and spat, ignoring the sodden locks in her own face before stepping forward and accepting the outstretched hand. After a few moments they stepped back, Corrin giving an involuntary shiver.
"Now, what do you have in the manner of bathing facilities here in the Flame Tribe?" he asked. "I'm going to catch my death in this rain."
Corrin let out a contented groan as he submerged himself up to the neck in the natural pool of steaming water Rinkah had led him to, feeling the stress and fatigue melting away.
They had travelled about fifteen minutes out of the village and towards the mountains, following a paved stone pathway and stairs before coming to the hot springs. Corrin had disrobed almost immediately, eager to feel the warmth of a bath again after so long spent camping. Thoughts of camping brought him back to how he had managed to get into this particular mess, before his train of thought arrived back at Gunter's murder…
A small splash from a few feet away interrupted his melancholy thoughts before they could gain any purchase in his mind as Rinkah sank into the water too, letting out a sigh similar to the one Corrin had.
Blushing furiously Corrin spun away from her.
Did the people of the Flame Tribe have no shame!? He had expected her to go to another spring close by, one for women, not join him!
"What in the Dusk Dragon's sacred name are you doing!?" he spluttered.
"Soaking?" Rinkah shot back. "Ahh, that stings... You think my cuts will heal faster here? I hope so..."
"Maybe!? Why… you… what!?"
"What is your problem?" Rinkah snapped. "Baths are meant to be relaxing!"
"Why did you get into the bath with me!?" Corrin asked.
"Because we came here to bathe!"
"Together!?"
"There's only one spring here!"
Corrin took a deep, steadying breath.
"Is this… normal here?"
"What are you talking about?" Rinkah sighed. "You expected me to let you have the entire spring to yourself, is that it?"
"N-no!" Corrin said hastily. "I've just… it's just…"
"Then shut up and enjoy the water," Rinkah said, an air of finality in her voice.
There was splashing from behind Corrin as she got comfortable, another long, relaxed sigh sounding over his shoulder. Risking a glance behind him Corrin realized that Rinkah was actually wearing a towel to hide herself as she bathed, both arms and the back of her head resting on the lip of the pool, her eyes closed. Corrin let out a breath of his own, still facing away but willing himself to relax, too. They stayed like that, enjoying the water for a time before Rinkah finally spoke again.
"You have a lot of scars," she said.
Corrin glanced over his shoulder again to see the Flame Tribe woman studying his back intently.
"My training was very vigorous," he said quietly.
"Your training?" Rinkah grunted disbelievingly. "Are you telling me you've never seen battle before?"
"Before the fight at the canyon, no," Corrin sighed.
"And yet you fight like an ogre," she said, almost bitterly.
"Like I said," Corrin repeated with a sad grin. "My training was vigorous."
"I can only imagine what kind of monster you'll become once you gain some actual experience," Rinkah sighed.
There was the sound of disturbed water behind him, and Corrin glanced back again to see Rinkah climbing out of the spring. His gaze lingered on her toned, muscular legs as she walked back to the baskets they had left their clothes in, holding up a bundle for Corrin.
"Here," she grunted. "Change into these."
Corrin fidgeted in his new clothes as Rinkah led him back to the Flame Tribe village; clean black trousers and an open black vest, showing off the pale and scarred skin of his chest. Fortunately the vest covered the pink welt of scar tissue that had been Hans' parting gift; that was a story he wasn't quite ready to tell others yet, and he didn't need them asking about it.
At some point the rain had stopped, but the chill persisted, making Corrin wonder what had happened to his cape.
As they passed through the village Corrin realized that there were more people around than there had been in the morning, no doubt returning home after working during the day, but they gave him and Rinkah a wide berth, some even going so far as to glare at him as they passed.
"I don't seem to be particularly popular," he muttered.
Rinkah snorted, grinning at him from the corner of her eye.
"You are an outsider," she explained. "And you're Nohrian."
"Ah, double-whammy," Corrin chuckled, shaking his head.
As they walked they passed a mother leading her two small children. They stared up at Corrin not with the mistrust that the adults had all showed, but instead with undisguised curiosity. The Prince gave them a warm smile, rewarded when the two children, a boy and a girl, smiled back. This was short lived, the mother moving to hurry them along and shooting Corrin a particularly vicious glare before disappearing between two of the buildings.
Corrin chuckled sadly, shaking his head. Rinkah had watched on silently, not saying anything.
When they arrived back at Kumagera's house Rinkah kicked off the boots she'd been wearing before tossing a rag to Corrin, who had been walking around barefoot all day.
"Clean your feet before coming in," she said.
Corrin scoffed, doing as he was told before stepping up into the house.
"I had a pair of boots made for you to travel in, but they were not ready yet," Rinkah said, leading him down the same long hallway they had used that morning.
A low table had already been set up in the room, piled high with roasted meat and a great bowl of some form of cooked grains. A trio of green bottles sat on the table as well, full of what Corrin wasn't sure. His stomach growled at the sight of the food, reminding him about how hungry he was now that he was healed.
"It's fine," Corrin said. "The earth here, it's soft. It's not like the stony, sharp ground back in Nohr."
The warrior led him to the same room he had woken up in before turning back to the hallway and sliding the outer wall away to reveal a charming view of the nighttime village. Cool air blew into the room as Rinkah rejoined him, almost throwing herself into a sitting position next to the table. Corrin sunk down to the ground, sitting cross-legged again and eyeing the food.
Rinkah didn't hesitate, picking up a large chuck of roasted something and taking a huge bite, tearing with her jaw and chewing. Corrin moved a little more cautiously, picking a smaller piece and lifting the meat to his face with two fingers. He gave it a cursory sniff before taking an experimental bite, finding the venison to be perfectly cooked. Using her hands Rinkah took great scoops of the steaming grains, shoveling them into her mouth before going back to her meat.
It was quite the spectacle, in Corrin's opinion. At least she appeared to be enjoying her meal.
"Eat," Rinkah grunted, seeing that he'd stopped. "We have a long journey ahead of us."
"You don't have any… plates? Utensils?" Corrin asked hesitantly.
"Bah, just eat," Rinkah spat, taking another great heap of the grains with her bare hands.
"I don't even know what I'm eating," he chuckled.
Rinkah groaned and rolled her eyes, pointing to the different dishes.
"Deer. Rice. Those are pickled daikon. And the bottles are a local liquor."
Corrin shrugged, taking a scoop of the rice grains himself and trying a bite. The grains were either boiled or steamed, and were soft. With renewed vigor Corrin cleared them from his hand before taking another, larger scoop. Rinkah grinned as he started to eat, reaching over and grabbing one of the bottles. She tore the cork out of it with her teeth before tipping the end up and taking a long drink. When she finished she sighed contentedly before throwing her head back and letting out a mighty belch.
Corrin flinched back from the table as a small jet of flames flew out of Rinkah's mouth with her belch, a grin on the warrior's face as she beheld Corrin's shock.
"What was that?" he asked incredulously.
"Flame Tribe," Rinkah shrugged, reaching for another cut of meat.
Corrin simply shook his head, reaching for one of the bottles and pulling the cork out. A strange, pungent smell wafted up to him from the open bottle, some form of local alcohol no doubt. He was no stranger to wine or ale, but Gunter had seen to it that he not have access to any stronger spirits. With a growl Corrin quashed thoughts of his late mentor by upending the bottle himself, letting the harsh liquor wash down his throat.
He had to remind himself that he wasn't in Nohr anymore, and that the customs of other lands were different to his own. Just because she was different didn't make Rinkah or the Flame Tribe barbarians.
The rest of the dinner passed uneventfully, or as uneventful as dinner with someone with the table-manners of a barbarian could, anyway. Corrin was shocked by the idea that everyone in the Flame Tribe ate like Rinkah, but she'd said something along the lines of 'the Flame Tribe digs into their meals with both hands! It tastes better that way!' Corrin just assumed it was a cultural thing. He missed knives and forks. And plates and cups.
Corrin missed Nohr.
The thought hit him while he was lying on his back on the strange thin mattress he'd woken up on, a 'futon' Rinkah had called it.
After dinner Corrin had cleaned himself in a bucket out in the kitchen before returning to the room and watching the village lights for a time before simply lying back and waiting for sleep to come. Now all he could think of was home. He did his best to stop his mind from wandering to thoughts that would be too painful, instead fantasizing about how his siblings would be coping without him. No doubt they were worried. And Felicia would be beside herself. Flora and Jakob, too, once they found out he was missing. Corrin smirked thinking about his butler, the mental image of Jakob simply loading up a pack and going out to rescue him without so much as a word because it was 'his duty to Lord Corrin'.
Corrin sighed, his head still spinning from the potent alcohol they'd had at dinner. To think, he'd managed to drink an entire bottle himself…
He glanced up at the sounds of someone in the next room, voices and the sounds of movement, but put it out of his mind. This was Kumagera's house, after all. It was silly to think that he and Rinkah would be the only ones in it. Wondering absently if someone would come to wake him up Corrin almost totally missed the sound of heavy footsteps outside his room.
He glanced up as Rinkah appeared in the doorway, a towel still resting on her shoulders. As she stepped in she let out a tired sigh, rotating her neck and angling for the only furniture in the room besides the low table; the futon Corrin was currently occupying.
Corrin's eyes went wide as he recalled the incident at the hot springs earlier in the day, and much to his continued horror Rinkah simply flopped down next to him before rolling onto her side, facing away. He could smell the springs on her, the subtle earthy scent of the minerals in the water.
"Er…" Corrin started, scooting away from the warrior woman.
"I only have one damn futon," she muttered, her words slurred from the alcohol she'd had with dinner.
Corrin sighed, deciding he didn't care anymore, and let his head fall back down to the futon. They lay there in silence, the familiar comforting shadow of sleep encroaching further and further on Corrin's awareness. He shifted closer to Rinkah, short of touching her back, but aware of just how much heat the Flame Tribe warrior was giving off.
Just as Corrin felt himself begin to drift off he was jarred back awake by a loud, passionate moan from the next room. His eye went wide as the moan repeated, and Rinkah let out a harsh growl.
"Shut up already!" she roared, throwing her towel at the wall ineffectively.
Kumagera's laughter could be heard through the wall now, as well as a shouted apology.
Corrin groaned, resting his arms atop his face.
He had changed his mind. The Flame Tribe really were barbarians.
The next morning Corrin sat up, cradling his head in one hand as he looked around the absurdly bright room through his fingers.
He had a splitting headache, and the bright light wasn't helping any.
"Why is the light so damn bright!?" Corrin groaned, rolling onto his face and hiding his head under his arms.
Growling incoherently Corrin sat up again, shielding his eyes from the glare. Was somebody casting a spell? The light was too white to be from a fire…
With leaden, tired movements Corrin rose and shuffled to the verandah Rinkah had left open the previous evening, shielding his face all the while. His eyes widened involuntarily before he winced, squinting against the light again.
Blue. The sky was a magnificent shade of blue. A few wisps of white cloud drifted through the blue, but otherwise the sky was a uniform shade of azure the likes of which Corrin had never dreamed of.
Gaping, the Prince had to reach out and steady himself on a nearby wall as he gazed in awe upwards. The skies of Nohr were always dark, always cloudy. Gunter had always said that the skies cleared maybe once or twice in a lifetime, but he'd never mentioned that the sky was so… so… blue.
Corrin blinked, glancing around. Where was Rinkah, anyway?
He didn't turn as footsteps approached, still enraptured by the blue of the sky.
"Is it normal for the Flame Tribe to leave their prisoners unattended?" he asked, grinning. "That's twice now."
A soft, masculine laugh from behind him made Corrin glance over his shoulder, Kumagera standing a few feet away.
"Is that what you think you are?" the older man asked.
Corrin shrugged, going back to looking at the sky.
"If I am, it was all worth it just to see the sky. Does it look like this all the time on this side of the Canyon?"
"Most days, yes," the Chieftain said, moving to stand beside him. "But the weather can be unpredictable in the mountains. More so in the lowlands. But once you get into Hoshido itself… yes. The sky is almost always like this."
Corrin made a thoughtful sound as he nodded.
"Sorry if we kept you up last night," Kumagera chuckled.
Corrin gave the man a curious look, his apology totally lost on the Prince. Due in no small part to the alcohol Corrin couldn't remember a bit of the previous evening after dinner. His condition probably didn't help, but he'd been brought up to be gracious…
"Think nothing of it," Corrin said with a small smile.
"Huh, that was easy," Kumagera guffawed before sobering. "Rinkah's gone to meet the envoy from Hoshido. I have to go to inspect the farmlands in the lower regions to make sure they weren't damaged by the storms. I… won't be here to see you off. Take care of my daughter, Prince of Nohr. I want your word."
"You have it," Corrin said immediately. "Although it is odd to ask a prisoner to care for his captor."
Kumagera barked out a harsh laugh, as Corrin was learning the Chieftain was so wont to do, before slapping Corrin on the shoulder.
"You're not a prisoner, Kamui. Not any more. Remember that."
With that perplexing statement the Chieftain turned and left, leaving Corrin to his thoughts. The word Kamui stirred something in him, something familiar but lost to the haze of his affliction. Wondering what Kamui even meant, Corrin went back to staring at the sky and watching the clouds drift past, basking in the warmth of the sun.
Corrin lost track of time, staring up at the sky until his eyes ached when Rinkah finally came for him. With a grunt the warrior woman tossed Ganglari and a cloak to Corrin, the Prince catching one in either hand.
"Did you find my cape with me?" he asked. "It's… important to me. And what of my armor?"
Rinkah stopped, looking at him funny.
"That tattered rag? I did. The armor was unsalvageable. It looked like a beast had torn it off of you."
Corrin nodded as Rinkah disappeared into the building again, looking down at the sword clenched in his hand. He wasn't sure why, but he felt a vague sense of malice from the weapon. He didn't trust it anymore, but he couldn't recall why. Pushing these thoughts aside he strapped the weapon to his hip, finishing just as Rinkah reappeared.
"Here," she said, shoving a black bundle into his hands.
Corrin unfurled the cape, a lump forming in his throat. His sister's handiwork wasn't quite ruined, but it was close. The edges were tattered, and the bottom had a number of large tears in it. Still, though, Corrin swung it around and tied it around his throat without an ounce of hesitation before putting the travelling cloak on over top of it.
"Are you ready now?" Rinkah grunted, frowning.
"I am," Corrin nodded. "Take me to Hoshido. I need to explain my actions."
Rinkah's eyes narrowed at being ordered around, but she silently spun on her heel and led him to the house's entrance. A familiar man with green hair stood waiting, loose sleeveless black and green clothes adorning him. As soon as he spotted Corrin he dropped to one knee, averting his gaze.
"It does me great honor to see you well, Prince Kamui," he said.
Corrin hesitated, looking questioningly to Rinkah. The woman shrugged disinterestedly, turning away.
"I… think you may have the wrong person," Corrin said slowly.
The green-haired man looked up at him, his brow furrowing.
"You do not remember?" he asked.
"I don't remember a lot of things," Corrin said with a sad grin. "I was injured as a child, and now my memories are… hazy. Fragmented. It's been like that all my life, I'm told."
"So you do not remember freeing me in Nohr?" the man asked.
Corrin shook his head, recalling that there had indeed been another man with Rinkah at the time, but it felt like it had happened a lifetime ago.
"Very well; please forgive my rudeness, my lord. My name is Kaze, and I am a ninja of Hoshido. I've been tasked with bringing you home, Prince Kamui."
AN: I originally uploaded this chapter just as I finished University. Man that makes me feel old… And yes, the horrible, awful cringe jokes stuck around. I'm just removing Author's Notes, not rewriting.