Two-Sided Awakening
Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem nor anything belonging to them, that right belongs to Nintendo Systems. The only thing I own are my own original character/s and ideas I create for the story.
Author's Note: Please read and review so I know what I should work on, if you're going to say things such as how it shouldn't be following canon, then just don't bother, I'm going to be ignoring those reviews from now on. Well, here we are with the seventh chapter of 'Two-Sided Awakening'.
Something people should note is that I only post a chapter once the next two chapter are finished. This means once this chapter has been posted I've already finished and edited Chapters 8 and 9.
For those wanting to know how Blanc's name is pronounced it not pronounced like "Blank" but like "Bl-ahn".
(Blanc's POV)
It'd be six more days of constantly trailing different types of weapons, correcting their flaws, and eventually, once they were finished I'd move onto my next project. Out of the six days, only two projects had been successfully finished while one was still a work-in-progress.
The first was the 'propulsion' lances or basically lances with wind sigils to boost their speed and piercing capabilities. These were also the ones, I'd found out, that Raimi had used against Prince Chrom to almost impale him with had it not been for a certain interruptive pink armoured and silvery-haired woman.
Her words, not mine. I was very much amicable with Sumia thank you very much, sweet girl if a tad clumsy and shy.
The second one that was finished was a project that had been placed on the bench till I'd returned to them a couple of days ago. These ones were simple 'cauterizing spears' which used a heat rune. The difference between a heat rune and a fire rune were honestly non-existent, they were basically the same thing with the same design and magic capability. The only thing that actually made them different was where the rune was placed and the material composing the medium.
For the 'cauterizing spears', the heat rune is etched into a metal shaft which is then filled with spirit dust mixture then subsequently covered with a secondary layer of metal. This causes the tip of the spear to shine a bright molten red, the heat gathers at the tip causing it to glow red. Fire runes, on the other hand, are placed on the outside of an object and the medium is typically wood for my explosion lances, but some cases can utilise steel such as my oven.
On the other hand, there was still the work-in-progress projects, which of course was the explosive lances.
Yep, these ones for the past week had been causing me headaches, burns, singes, and you guessed it, explosions. Just not the type of explosions I wanted, however, considering they still blew up in my hands as I held them.
My newly-grown skin was a testament to the annoyance of the work-in-progress prototype along with a variety of disgruntled visitors who don't take kindly to explosions rocking the accommodations they're occupying.
"Oi kid, get your head out of the clouds. We're almost here," Flavia susurrated on the other side of the carriage as she looked out the window.
I caught a glimpse of one of the proud testaments of Regna Ferox, one of its oldest monuments from the time of the Schism; the event that separated Ferox into the East and West. The event that led to its creation.
Arena Ferox.
A coliseum made of solid frozen sandstone, one of the densest materials from the time of the Schism, time within the snowy tundra that is Ferox freezing the priorly normal sandstone till not even the strongest people could pierce its permafrosted surface.
The place which had held the fights between the East and West Khan in a bid for the title of Head-Khan Regnant. In order to avoid reckless bloodshed of Ferox's people, a system was devised wherein foreigners would fight in steed for the khans so as to prevent the loss of one of Ferox's leaders and the disputation of blood feuds between families.
A system which led to me almost fighting in Flavia's steed. As much of a fact that I lived within Ferox, I was still considered to be a foreigner due to the fact I wasn't a proper citizen of Ferox, merely a retainer of sorts under Flavia. I did get most of the benefits of a normal citizen but there were still formal regulations the considered me a foreigner.
The tournament between the khans is one such regulation which considers me a viable candidate for foreigner, and thus viable of being a champion.
Thankfully this issue was resolved not but a week ago with the arrival of Prince Chrome (whom I found out to be the brunette with a legendary sword strapped to his waist) and his ragtag group of Shepherds. Prince Chrom whom took up the title of Champion, thus leaving me with the opportunity of not having to fight to the death much to my joy and focus on the failures of my projects much to my consternation.
As we disembarked from the carriage and entered the arena, I noticed a distinct lack of blue-haired champion and their posse of colourful individuals. "Flavia… where's Prince Chrom?"
"He's probably either arriving now or already down in the side rooms preparing for his fight."
"Doesn't he need to see you though?"
"What? Why?" Flavia looked at me.
"I dunno, isn't there like something of a formality that you two need to talk about before the match?"
"Kid… the Champion is forbidden from seeing their representing Khan prior to the match to prevent cheating or discussion of information." Flavia looked at me like I had a screw knocked loose. "Raimi should've told you this…"
"Raimi didn't tell me shit…" I deadpanned.
Flavia's palm met her face as she let out a groan. "Thank the gods that you weren't my champion… had you been, I'm pretty sure you would've been disqualified the moment you arrived."
"Yup," I agreed, "Good thing Prince Chrom agreed with being your champion otherwise you'd definitely have lost any contention you had for khanship."
"It's not like he had a choice, he has a country to look after and this was his only option to get an army." Flavia looked over to me with half-lidded eyes as we began ascending the stairs to where the Khans were to be sitting along with anyone that came with them.
One of the many perks of working solely under Flavia and taking that offer four years ago are benefits such as this.
"Not necessarily," I disagreed.
"Oh? Do tell…"
"Well… he could've gone to the East-Khan, Basilio to get an army but then again that has the same chance of working as going with you," I rationalised. "Alternately, he could have hired mercenaries from across the long sea, I've heard there's a large elite mercenary company somewhere in Rosanne or Valm right about now."
"How do you even know about that?" Flavia questioned as we finished ascending.
I shrugged, "I've been keeping my ears to the ground in case anything important pops up, especially after the Plegian incident." I wasn't about to tell her that Mark had told me to keep an eye on the continent across the long sea a couple of weeks back (It was strange because lately, he hadn't been replying to me. He replied every now and then, but not very often), citing that something important was going to happen soon. As far as I could tell there'd so far only been the desertion of one of Rosanne's leaders and that there were whispers of things happening with the Emperor of Chon'sin.
An eyebrow rose at my statement, "Anything else I should know about then?"
I shook my head. "Not as far as Regna Ferox is concerned. Plegia is still launching brigands and bandits to Ylisse's and our own borders. The only thing that really bothers me is that none have been actual soldiers or warriors of Plegia."
"You think something's up?"
"Definitely, it's Plegia after all. But it just seems strange… the Mad King hasn't been sending his own troops, he wants Ylisse to be the one to start it. Everything that's been said about that Mad King from his thirst for war to the eradication of Ylisse suggests he should be bidding for war at all costs." I reasoned.
"And?"
I shook my head once more. "That's just it, he hasn't done anything. He wants Ylisse to start the war. Had anything about him been true he'd have just crushed Ylisse under foot, they have an actual army after all while Ylisse has a skeleton crew of soldiers."
"So there's something going on behind the scenes?" Flavia slowly became more invested in the conversation, connecting the dots that I'd seen.
"Maybe… things just aren't adding up after all."
We finished ascending to the top of the stairs attracting the stares of two individuals, a Chon'sinian gruff man with brown hair and a mountain of muscle posing as a man. East-Khan Basilio and his right-hand man and Champion, Lon'qu.
"We'll continue with this later."
I nodded silently, my time as a speaker coming to an end as the time for Khans to speak began.
Flavia walked up to Basilio and nodded. "I see you're still kicking you old sack of bones."
A silvered and aged eyebrow rose. "This old sack of bones can still kick your tiny ass six ways till Sunday you little brat," spoke gruffly, the aged khan rising to the challenge of the younger, crossing his arms in the process.
They both stood there, eyes locked in a battle of wills. Neither were willing to back down.
Simultaneously, a smile broke on their faces.
"Ah still as shitty as always you big oaf" Flavia uttered out with a grin while her hand extended.
Basilio smiled broadly while taking her hand into his with a shake. "And you're still the uppity little shit that's been trying to take the title of Head-Khan… I see you've finally got a brat for yourself."
I couldn't help but think when he said 'brat' he was talking to me. The way his eyes seem to drift towards me certainly wasn't helping.
"Ha!" Flavia chuckled as she looked over, "I got this one a little over four years ago… he was meant to be my champion as well…"
Basilio looked at her smug grin, "What? He not up to your standards or something?"
"Nah, someone else came in and took his place, matter of politics and all that…"
"Sure…" Basilio decided to agree for the sake of not going into that honeypot. "Least you had an excuse for your champion, politics does tend to make things messy after all."
"Hmm? Isn't he your champion? Actually, shouldn't he be disqualified?" Flavia jerked her head at Lon'qu who silently watched the byplay, his face flushing at her last two sentences.
"Lon'qu here," Basilio started, "Got beat by my new champion, so no… he isn't disqualified…"
I rose an eyebrow at that, Lon'qu had been Basilio's champion for years, long before I'd arrived.
"Huh… seems your own brat wasn't up to standards like he usually is," Flavia shot at him. "Who's your new champion?"
Basilio grunted in contempt. "Some foreigner going by the name of 'Marth', blue hair and some fancy sword skills under his belt. Managed to somehow force Lon'qu to surrender."
No one but me noticed how Lon'qu's face flushed a scarlet red, something about it not quite right. It wasn't out of guilt for losing but something else… it seemed like… embarrassment? I filed that away under things to keep in mind.
"Blue hair? Is that becoming a common hair color nowadays?" Flavia questioned causing Basilio to look over at her curiously.
"Whaddya mean?"
"My own champion had blue hair as well," Flavia added nonchalantly, seemingly trying to lure Basilio in.
"Really?" Basilio asked, his curiosity over such a trivial getting the better of him. "What's their name?"
Flavia's grin turned feral. Hook, line, and sinker.
"Prince Chrom of Ylisse."
Basilio's brows shot into his non-existent hairline. "The fuck out of here!"
Flavia shook her head with a grin and jerked her head to the side.
"Take a look for yourself."
I looked down into the arena.
Down at the western entrance was a motley crew of armoured, clothed and one half-naked individual/s that began to disperse into the bleachers behind the entrance.
And down there in the arena ring itself?
Down there was Prince Chrom in all his blue glory.
Both Flavia and Basilio sat down in their ornate chairs while Lon'qu and I took a stand by their sides.
(3rd Person POV)
"Are you sure you're ready? We can always have someone of us swap out with yourself milord."
Chrom merely smiled at his stalwart guardian and friend, thankful for his worry but nonetheless declining.
Chrom shook his negative. "I'm fine Frederick, truly. Besides, I'd given my word that I'd represent Khan Flavia, it'd be remiss of me to back out now."
"I've begun to notice you take your word quite seriously…" Robin muttered from the side as almost all the Shepherds surrounded him (i.e. Lissa, Frederick, Sumia, and Vaike) while the rest, herself, included, decided to give the man some breathing space.
Looking over the gaggle of bodies, his blue eyes meeting her brown, "What type of person would I be if I didn't keep my word?"
Robin merely conceded at that.
A bulky shadow encompassed the room as an armoured figure blocked the way into the arena from the western waiting room.
It took a step forward, the light showing that the armoured individual in question was actually Raimi.
"Milord, the tournament is starting now."
Chrom nodded in return, "I'll be out shortly." With that, she returned back outside.
The Shepherds took a step back as he rose.
"You heard her, you'd best get to your seats," Chrom spoke as he exited the room into the arena with his Shepherds following suit, wishing him their good luck and moving to the Champions' bleachers above the waiting room entrance and seating themselves.
"Hey look!" Lissa pointed to the area where the Khans were situated, the khans themselves visible within the empty arena. Two seated individuals could be seen while two others were at their side.
The seated person on the left was one that Robin, Lissa, and Frederick all easily recognized as Flavia the West-Khan. The one standing beside her in a white coat surprised all the Shepherds, however.
"Is… Is that the chef that served us from last week?" Stahl asked in confusion.
"I-I think it is?" Sumia confirmed uncertainly, "What's he doing beside the Khans?"
"Maybe chefs are highly regarded in Ferox?" Robin hedged unsurely, similarly speculating as to why a chef would be in high-standing with Flavia.
"Maybe he's some sort of super soldier that fights for Khan Flavia!" Lissa blurted out with gleaming eyes, "What if he's her right-hand man?!"
Frederick rose an eyebrow. "Milady… Ferox is a warrior country, I highly doubt that a chef no matter his caliber would be the West-Khan's right-hand subordinate. It is more than likely that he supplies food to the Khans while the tournament is ongoing."
"Awww…" Lissa pouted. "That sounds boring…"
The rest of the shepherds decided to ignore the conundrum of chefs and khans in favour of discussing Chrom's chances of winning.
"How do you think he'll go?" Robin threw into the air as she looked around. Feroxians were swiftly beginning to fill up every available seat within the Arena, some even opting to stand at the back by the walls.
"If everything fares well with Milord, then he should have no reason but to win," Frederick responded.
"Don't worry Robin, Chrom will be fine. It's Chrom after all!" Lissa cheered the last part, a small upturn of the lips barely appearing on her brothers face in the ring.
"What of his opponent though?" Sumia worried to Robin's side, "What if they're stronger than Chrom?"
"Hey hey hey!" Vaike spoke up catching their attention, "Chrom ain't gonna be taken out by some run o' the mill soldier! Have some more faith in him!"
"We have ample faith in milord," Frederick replied stiffly, "It's his opponent that we know nothing about, however."
Movement from the other side caught Robin's eye. "I'd probably change your thoughts about that Freddy, it seems they're coming out now."
Frederick frowned at the name but nonetheless looked at the opposing side.
Out of the opposing arena came a man.
A very familiar man.
"Hey isn't that Marth?!" Lissa shouted in shock as she stood up abruptly.
Robin couldn't help but agree, 'What on earth is he doing there?'
"Indeed 'tis would seem to be the same man we met before," Frederick agreed, also taken aback by the sudden appearance of the man.
"Marth?" Miriel uttered. "The Hero King? That Marth?"
Robin shook herself from her staring. "No… this man saved Lissa a couple of days back when the risen came falling from the sky. He came from a glowing portal, the same one as the risen."
"A portal?" Miriel muttered her view solely placed upon the blue-haired man that wasn't their captain. "Interesting… very interesting."
Down in the arena, both contestants faced off against each other, blue eyes discerning masked ones.
"I'm surprised you're to be my opponent," Chrom admitted.
"…"
The masked man barely moved, much less gave a reply in response.
"I must apologize that we must meet once more like this, but I must win…" Chrom said while drawing Falchion.
The man gave another wordless reply, his body shifting as they both readied themselves for the start of the battle.
Marth drew his sword.
Chrom's eyes widened.
The sword in his hands, in Marth's hands, was a sword that looked exactly the same as the one that Chrom himself held. A sword that there is only meant to be a single one of.
Falchion, the divine sword forged by Naga from one of her own teeth.
Somehow, the man facing him also held one.
"Marth!" Chrom called out, intent on finding the bottom of this mystery," One question before we begin?"
Marth stood in stalwart silence once more.
"Tch," Chrom clicked his tongue as they both simultaneously readied themselves in almost similar stances, Marth's being ever-so slightly different. "Fine, then… Our swords can speak for us…"
Up in the khan's boxed off section Flavia smiled, an interesting thought coming to mind.
"Hey Basilio…"
"Hmm?" The one-eyed titan looked over at her in restlessness, eagerly waiting for the tournament to start.
Both of their right-hand men shifted.
Blanc, in particular, felt uncomfortable, the gleam in Flavia's eye was unsettlingly familiar.
"I have an idea how we can spice this tournament up…" Flavia grinned, voicing her idea.
"What are you getting at Flavia?" Basilio decided to entertain her request.
"Well… it goes something like this…"
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" an announcer called out from a podium to the side of the ring. "Today we have yet another momentous occasion, an event that has spanned since the foundation of the building that we stand in. The tournament for the right to Head-Khan!"
The crowd's cheer was deafening to the ears.
"In the West, our repeating challenger return once more. We have the Fierce Lioness herself; East-Khan Flavia!"
The building foundations shook as roars of the audience took to the skies.
"Aaand in the East, our reigning Head-Khan is back. The Stalwart Titan; West-Khan Basilio!"
The Shepherds' seat vibrated as early everyone yelled in applause at once.
"Representing Khan Flavia, we have newcomer Prince Chrom of Ylisse! And representing Khan Basilio, we have another newcomer… Marth? Alright then, we have Marth!"
The applause was mostly scattered this time, mostly out of polite respect for the champions that may end up having their head tolling on the floor.
"Well people, if no one has anything to say then the match shall soon begin in three… two… one… G- eh?!"
Everyone looked around in confusion at the announcer's cut-off. Someone gasped, and a finger pointed into the air. Then two, then three, then five, then eight. Hands and gasps continued to ensure as the Champions both looked up in confusion.
Because up in the Khan's section, both Khan Basilio and Khan Flavia had stood up.
Their hands were raised in the universal hand sign for stop.
"Huh? What's going on?" Both Chrom and Lissa questioned, unbeknownst to them, simultaneously, as the announcers' voice cut off causing them to look up.
Two bodies came flying down from the khan's booth, the khan's right-hand men. One hopping down from the stands and swiftly making his way next to Marth revealed itself to be the brown-haired swordsman that had been standing next to the East-Khan. The other came crashing into the ground ungracefully and sliding across the marble floor as it squeaked against his body, coming to a stop at Chrom's feet with a groan
"It seems the Khans have something to say people!" the announcer said.
(Blanc's POV – Minutes earlier)
"Hey, Basilio…"
'Oh no... please no…' I thought worriedly. The only time Flavia speaks quietly is when she's either really hungry, or she wanted to absolutely fuck things up in the most spectacular way possible.
I wouldn't be completely averse to this since let's be honest, I love seeing thing fuck up spectacularly. Unfortunately, I'm typically somewhere near or involved with the chaos whenever she tries something.
"Hmm?" Basilio looked over at her in restlessness, his lone eye glimmering with interest.
I looked over at Lon'qu.
He looked at me.
We both turned back.
For some reason, I felt I was the only one worried. Or Lon'qu is a master at keeping his face as firm as stone. One of the two.
"I have an idea how we can spice this tournament up…" Flavia grinned, voicing her idea.
'Oh fuck me sideways… of course… she couldn't keep things like normal for the first damn time I'm here, NOOOOOO it's too damn hard to do that apparently!" I mentally ranted while keeping my face straight.
"What are you getting at Flavia?" Basilio entertained her
"Well… it goes something like this…" Flavia started, "We both currently have a champion… we both also have an ex-champion…" she trailed off.
'You bitch….'
"You scheming shit!" Basilio guffawed at what she was insinuating. "You want to have a two versus two battle!"
Flavia held up her hands in surrender, "Hey hey, I haven't said anything… buuuut…. I wouldn't exactly be averse to such a thing."
Basilio laughed uproariously, bystanders curiously turning around wondering where the laughter was coming only to find the East-Khan laughing while the West-Khan smiled.
"HAHAHAhahaha…" He wiped a stray tear from his eye then grinned. "I think I like it."
"Hey Lon'qu, you up for it?" Basilio turned to his loyal follower who merely inclined his head in acceptance before raising an eyebrow at me.
"What about you Blanc?" Flavia turned to me, a challenging look in her eyes as if daring me to disagree with her chance at amusement.
I let out a weary sigh. "I don't suppose even if I said that I don't have any equipment on me, you'd allow me to pass, would you?"
"Nope!" she smiled like the devil incarnate, okay maybe not the devil, but like someone who I wouldn't mind throttling had she not been capable of smashing my head in like a grapefruit.
"Very well…"
"Well, there you have it you big oaf! Seems like a double battle is in place!" Flavia grinned to Basilio who smirked and gave a nod to Lon'qu who jumped off the railing.
I gave a sigh once more and began heading for the stairs. "I'll go get some equipment form the armoury and head down…" I said.
At least before something gripped the back of my collar. "Eeeeh that's gonna take way too long, besides you can't fight with anything except for whatever equipment you have on you!" Flavia held me.
I looked over my shoulder. "Flavia… I don't have anything on me except my lab coat and my clothes." Well, that and the chest piece I placed to cover my 'little friend'.
Flavia merely smiled at me. "That sounds like a 'you' problem to be honest!" With that, my body went weightless.
'What just happened?' I wondered why I couldn't feel anything around me except for a strange sense of vertigo. I craned my head upward only to see the ground and a blue figure closing in.
'Ah…' was my last thought as I came crashing into the ground, my body sliding on the marbled sandstone floor with a squeak.
"Ow…"
"Um… you okay? What're you doing down here, the battle's about to start…"
I felt some bones shift as the spell-circle went to work, mana pumping into it, kickstarting the process. Being sent flying from fifty feet into the air into solid stone will obviously end up breaking and shifting some bones around. I looked up at Prince Chrom.
"Flavia's a bitch…." I managed out as my collarbone snapped back into place. "Double battle, Champion, and ex-champions are fighting now. The west champion and ex-champion versus the east champion and ex-champion."
"Uhh… Okay? Why are you here then?" the prince asked dumbly. I say dumbly because he couldn't seem to put two and two together.
"Because current champions and ex-champions are to fight?"
"Yes… but why is a chef down here?" Chrom stressed as he looked at me inquisitively
Flavia leaned over the railings overlooking the arena, Basilio beside her.
"As you can see we currently have not two champions… but four!" Flavia spoke to the crowd, murmurs spreading like wildfire as confusion rippled across the masses.
"You see, the East-Khan and myself both had a bit of an issue with our champions, both being replaced while our previous champions were still very much alive as you can bey much tell." She waved to the two extra combatants on the arena floor. As such…!" Flavia paused, "We've decided to forego the usual one on one battle till yield or death!"
The crowd roared in displeasure, the only ones not joining in being the Shepherds whom were merely relieved.
"That's a relief…" Lissa exhaled in relief, no longer needing to worry about them losing.
Basilio moved up, taking the audience's attention from Flavia. "No, instead it'll be a two versus two dual battle! The western champion and ex-champion against the eastern champion and ex-champion!" Basilio roared inciting the audience with the prospect of even more bloodshed.
"What!?" Robin yelled at that, looking at the floor below. The odds for them weren't looking too good.
"Wait, what's happening? Why are they changing it so suddenly?" Lissa began panicking herself into a tizzy. "This wasn't what we'd agreed on! Frederick say something!" she continued panicking while shaking the large man beside her.
Frederick merely stayed stoically firm in his support of his lord. "Your brother is much stronger than you give him credit for milady… have faith in him."
"Um, Sir Frederick?" Sumia hesitantly spoke up. "I believe it's not so much the Captain we're worried about as it is we're worried about his partner," she said and pointed at the man who'd helped her in the kitchen. Said man who was also unarmed.
"Why is he even down there?! Much less without any weapons? He's going to die!" Lissa shouted, panic overwhelming her. Panic for her brother, panic for Ylisse, and panic for the poor soul who was about to be slaughtered down below.
"Um… guys?" Robin spoke up unsurely, something about the East-Khans words coming to mind.
"What is it?" Lissa frenzied orbs locked onto her.
Robin stepped back a bit with how out of place Lissa was acting in comparison to her usual self but nonetheless continued, "Basilio said that the fight would be with both the current champions and the ex-champions… correct?"
"Yes, why? Is something the matter Robin?" Frederick questioned.
"Well…" Robin looked at the man as he got up and dusted himself off, nary a bone out of place nor a wince on his face.
"Wouldn't that mean that 'chef' was Flavia's champion before we came along?"
The Shepherds went silent.
(Blanc's POV)
I looked up at him from my place on the ground. Getting to my feet I dusted my lab coat off.
"Prince Chrom… I AM the previous champion. The name is Blanc, at your service." I gave a flourished bow.
(3rd Person POV)
Chrom couldn't' help but stare incredulously at the white-haired man below him as he began dusting himself off and rolling his shoulders into motion.
This was Flavia's ex-champion?
'This isn't going to go well… their previous champion was a chef!' Chrom mentally commiserated at that.
Had he been any more in a right state of mind, as in not hyped up on pre-battle adrenaline, he would've wondered why Flavia was changing things at the last minute. He also would've realised that the previous champion would've at least had some experience under his belt.
He also should've realised that the strange man/chef was the same man that Flavia informed him butchered the Plegian bandits that'd been harassing the border village.
Unfortunately, that was not the case. As such Chrom settled with mentally complaining while readying himself, the man (chef) beside him having finished dusting himself simply stood there.
Chrom wondered where his weapons and as such asked.
"Don't have any… Flavia didn't let me get any before she threw me down here," was the man's simple response with a shrug.
Chrom hated his luck.
Blanc began adjusting his cuffs.
"So, what's the plan then? You happen to have anything up those white sleeves of yours?" Chrom asked, hoping to Naga that the man was even anything as resourceful like his tactician.
Blanc deadpanned at him. "I JUST said that I don't have anything… I'm not a magician, and no. I don't have anything up these 'white sleeves of mine' as you'd put it." To prove his point he rolled up his sleeves revealing toned but empty forearms.
"The plan is that we each take an opponent and hope for the best. I don't know really… impromptu planning isn't exactly my forte, much less planning after having my head knocked around like a bag of sweets." Blanc shrugged.
Chrom truly hated his luck.
"I'll leave you to mysterious Blue over there," Blank jerked his head over to Marth. "Seems like the two of you have some unresolved family business to attend to."
Chrom looked at the man strangely, "We're not related though…."
A white eyebrow rose. "You two certainly look the part. Blue hair, blue clothes, same shoe style, and same fancy golden impractical looking blade."
"Hey!" Chrom shouted when he finished digesting what he'd said. "The Falchion isn't an impractical blade! It's a royal heirloom!"
"The hook end of an armourslayer can flick it out of your hands if it gets caught in the guard," Blanc pointed out at the teardrop hole.
"I… you…." Chrom tried to refute him but logically speaking he was right. "Shut up… just go and focus on your opponent."
"HA!" Blanc barked out a laugh. "We should probably start getting ready Prince, the fights about to start." he pointed to the announcer who was about to start counting down.
Chrom nodded and readied his sword. On the opposite side, Lon'qu and Marth readied themselves, both in two different stances.
Blanc lowered his center of mass till he was in a faux crouch. The tension in the air was almost palpable as the contestants waited for the signal.
"Begin!"
Chrom advanced with a leap, Marth following suit with thrust, their blades meeting halfway in a shower of flashes. "Tell me!" Chrom shouted as they leapt back, their blades meeting over and over, more and more, sparks flying as they met. "Who taught you to fight like that?!" he grunted as they met in a flurry of strikes.
"Grr…" Marth grunted, his smaller body losing ground as they fought, Chrom keeping him on the defensive. Their blades met in a deadlock, twin swords grinding against each other as sparks and smoke filled the air.
Chrom began adding force to the deadlock slowly forcing Marth to his knees, all of a sudden Marth changed his grip, his sword sliding across the side of Chrom's and the pommel smashing into his shoulder.
Chrom shook it off and attacked with renewed fury, but Marth parried his swings, his own sword cutting shallowly across Chrom's skin, slowly dotting him with blood. "The people who taught me… were my father…" Marth threw his sword into the air and dodged Chrom's slash, catching the sword as it fell and slashed at Chrom's unprotected back, barely cutting through the cloth and a thin stretch of skin, "… and my uncle!" Marth shouted as he swung, once more catching Chrom in a deadlock.
Off to the side, Blanc and Lon'qu were in a deadly dance of blades and fists. Lon'qu being at the advantage due to his strength, skill and extended reach of his blade, however, Blanc weaved in between the strokes of his sword with ease as his hands slammed into Lon'qu's wrists disarming him, only for a hand to blur and grab the sword and move into another strike.
Up above the Shepherds watched as the battle raged on.
"Amazing…" Lissa breathed out in awe as she watched the chef and the brown-haired swordsman fight. "It's like he knows where he'll be hit…"
"Milady, as much as it is amazing to see them fight perhaps' it'd be pertinent to concern over your brother, he seems to be on the back leg so to speak," Frederick said, Lissa's view switching from the fist and sword fight to her brother.
Frederick was right.
As skilled as Chrom was, Marth was simply better. Marth was faster, more skilled, and his style of fighting while slightly unorthodox in that he temporarily relinquished hold of his blade to dodge before catching it, it allowed him for more than once avoid Chrom's assault before counterattacking in nary an instant. The only thing that Chrom excelled in, in comparison, was the fact that he seemed to be heavier and stronger, the few slashes he did get in creating gashes in Marth's clothes or long swaths of sliced skin.
"I must admit there is something strange about this Marth character…" Frederick muttered.
Lissa rolled her eyes, "Frederick you find many people to be strange… You found Robin to be strange!"
Frederick shook his head. "Not like the usual strange milady, I mean it's strange how this Marth fights. He fights so similarly to milord it's uncanny, the only difference is that he seems much more… flexible… adaptable to the battlefield."
Lissa gave him a look. "You lost me Freddy…"
Frederick pointed down to the two as Marth caught the center of Chrom's falchion with the extended guard of his own replica and flicked his wrist, sending Chrom's falchion flying. "Of all the people and brigands, we've encountered; none have ever done anything like that, much less done it with such finesse and confidence. There's also another thing…"
Marth thrust his sword forward, the blade slicing across Chrom's arm leaving a trail of blood as Falchion landed back in his hand, a slash forcing Marth to dodge lest he be bifurcated through his stomach.
"…not once has Marth gone for a killing blow… just then he could've thrust his sword through milord heart, or previously sliced through his spine as much as it pains me to admit. This Marth is actively avoiding hurting milord."
"Frederick..." Robin started slowly, "…what are you getting at here?"
Frederick looked at the Shepherds. "I believe there's more to Marth than what would meet the eye…"
Robin and Lissa went silent, the thought creating a feeling of unease deep within.
A roar of pleasure suddenly rippled across the audience causing them to look down in confusion.
Chrom and Marth were still fighting so what happened?
They're view moved to the other fighting contestants. Robin and Lissa gasped.
It seemed a mistake had been made some time through their fight because down in the arena Lon'qu's blade was dripping red with blood as the man stepped back out of the reach of his opponent's flying fist.
Audible gurgling came from Blanc as he spat out a glob of blood, a dribble of crimson falling onto the handle of Lon'qu's blade.
The handle that was embedded into his gut.
There down in the arena was Blanc, Lon'qu's sword impaling him just below his sternum, it's metal blade erupting out of his back.
Lissa gasped at the sight, the crimson-stained blade shining in the warm light. The clashing swords faded into the background as the man stood there frozen like a statue. Lon'qu took a couple of steps back watching his impaled opponent cautiously as he did so, something not quite feeling right with the situation. Something felt wrong.
The white-haired man's shoulders shook.
The stadium went silent, the only noise being the clashing of blades and grunts from the other two.
"HehehehahAHAHAHA!" the man began laughing much to the Shepherds disconcertion; most people don't laugh when they're impaled through the center and out the other side by a sword.
"HAhahahaaa…" the man's laughter crawled to a slow as his hands rose, Lon'qu tensed as the hands fell onto the hilt of the blade.
"What's he doing, he's going to hurt himself!" Lissa screamed in alarm, Frederick and Robin beside her watching in intrigue.
With a heave the blade tore free, blood spurting out of the wound while the snow-haired man grinned without a care in the world as he held the self-bloodied sword to his side.
"Let's even the playing field… shall we?" His eyes gleamed as he held the sword in the air.
Eyes were fixed to the sight, beholden to such a crazed action.
Then the blade went flying.
Eyes widened as the blade fell to clatter outside of the ring.
Silence rang out as people just stared, incomprehension as they looked at the two now unarmed men.
The snowy-haired man crouched into a stance, Lon'qu following suit but seemingly much more out of necessity than comfort, close quarters combat not his specialty, being considerably more focused on swordsmanship than any other fighting style.
"Yes…" Blanc drawled out, "Now the fun begins!"
With a burst, he was gone. Lon'qu held his arms up defensively and steadied himself.
First mistake.
In an instant, Blanc reappeared in front of him with a fist cocked back and aiming for his face causing Lon'qu to raise his guard. "Wrong move…" Blanc grinned as his leg came up from the side, smashing into the side of his cranium.
Lon'qu grunted in pain and stumbled around as his vision went swimming, the pain of the strike being bearable but the concussive force rattling his brain like a salt shaker. Grabbing his head with one hand he steadied himself.
The second mistake was made.
With another burst of speed Blanc charged, closing in on him before sliding across the ground on his legs, kicking Lon'qu's feet out from underneath him while grabbing his collar as he shot up, the brown-haired swordsman suspended in mid-air for naught but a second.
That was all that was needed.
Steadying himself, legs ingrained into the ground and core stabilised, Blanc heaved.
The brown-haired swordsman went flying, landing with a grunt. As he stumbled to the ground he noticed a glimmer in the corner of his eye.
It was his sword, laying innocently in the dirt beside him.
"Lon'qu, Basilio's first champion is out of the ring!" The crowd cheered, the flowing blood enough to keep them satisfied.
Lon'qu stared at the sword beside him as the crowd cheered.
A small smile cracked his lips.
Up in the stands Basilio gaped down at the man that had thrown his right-hand out of the ring like a ragdoll in the wind. That wasn't what shocked him nor the very fact such a thing had managed to happen to Lon'qu. It wasn't even the fact that this was the first ring-out in over twenty years.
No, what shocked him was the fact that Lon'qu had clearly impaled Flavia's brat, dried blood being proof of that, then that kid shrugged it off, pulled out the sword, and continued fighting barehanded.
"Flavia…" Basilio muttered lowly, his eyes trained on the now three fighters but barely comprehending.
"Yes?"
Basilio ignored the smugness radiating from the woman in favour of taking a very deep breath and calmed his nerves.
"What… IN THE BLAZING HELLS WAS THAT?!" Basilio exploded.
Evidently, he wasn't very successful in calming himself.
Flavia shrugged with a smarmy shit-eating grin. "Weeellll… I'd say that was one of my champions beating yours."
"Don't even give me that!" Basilio waved one of his beefy arms down at the arena. "I mean that brat of yours! With the whole shrugging off Lon'qu's sword!"
Flavia grin closed itself into a thin somber line. "He's been through a lot Basilio… much worse than a mere sword impaling itself in him… that was just a mere pinprick of the pain he's been through, and not one that'd stop him either…"
Basilio stopped. Not once had he seen his fellow khan so somber. He looked back down at the man.
"Is it really that bad?" he cautiously prodded.
Flavia just nodded.
"I see…" Basilio was a man of many things. Carefree and lackadaisical, whimsical as he is strong. But out of all the things that made Basilio, the respect he had for a strong person with a long past was something that shone through.
And if Flavia said that man down in the arena was strong?
Then you could damn bet Basilio would respect him enough not to pry.
Down below Chrom and Marth continued to fight, both unaware that Lon'qu was already out of the fight.
"Who is your father?! Your uncle?!" Chrom roared as they continued to lock blades.
Marth's lips downturned as genuine blade met its replica. "I believe I've said enough for one day, sir…"
"Hpmh… is that how this is to be?" Chrom clicked his tongue as he broke off the deadlock with an upwards swing, catching the replica blade with Falchion's prong, much like how Marth had done to him earlier, a flick of his wrist sending it flying upwards in the air like a repetitive rendition.
The blade lodged itself into the ground behind Chrom on its way down, Chrom pointing Falchion at his opponents disarmed throat.
"My sister owes you her life, and for that, you have my gratitude. However, within these hallowed walls I represent the East-Khan and the interests of Ylisse," Chrom gritted out, the fact he had to say these words to his sister's saviour leaving a taste like ash in his mouth. "I can't promise to stay my blade, but I vow not to shame you…"
Marth's face went stoic behind his mask as Chrom finished.
"Heh."
Marth smirked, an upturn of his lips showing what he thought of the blue prince's offer. Slowly he began to crouch down, muscles tensing in his legs as he did so.
"Truly, I'd never expected such youthful arrogance from you…" Marth muttered as Chrom readied himself for whatever attack the man may unleash.
Marth jumped.
Not like a measly two feet into the air jump, but the superhuman type of jump that Chrom himself was capable of. Chrom watched in unabashed wonder as Marth sailed over him and landed.
Right next to his buried sword as a blue-gloved hand clasped onto it.
"We shall see who shames who! HYAH!" Marth shouted as he spun around in a wide arc, the wind whistling as it cleaved through the air where Chrom had once been. Looking around Marth couldn't find any sign of the blue-haired man aside from a sliced off piece of blue cloth and a pair of footprints.
"Where'd he go?" Marth's voice cracked ever so slightly. His well-honed instincts screaming at him to block causing him to suddenly he spin around to block an overhead slash. Chrom swiped up sending Marth's arm flying with the blade still in his hand before slashing away at his midsection. One slice cut through the cloth covering Marth's stomach once more revealing smooth skin while another grazed his arm.
After a couple more seconds, Chrom pushing Marth on the backfoot, a mistake had to be made.
This mistake came in the form of a bloodied mess upon the floor, the same blood that leaked from Blanc.
Marth slipped, falling to the ground, trying to get up only to be met by a blade.
"Surrender now." Blue eyes demanded of masked ones. "It's over, you've lost."
Marth's lips pulled back in a pained grimace. "'Tis it'd seem… impressive, if not very surprising…"
"Very well… I concede…"
"There you have it folks! Two for two! Both of Flavia's champions have won meaning our new Head Khan is Khan Flavia!
The new Head-Khan, her people and the Shepherds of Ylisse roared in applause.
None noticed as a white-haired man hobbled away, clutching at the bloody patch on his white lab coat. None saw how the bleeding had stopped and that underneath the hand was smooth skin
None but a lone pair of blue eyes.
Author's Note: Yay! Seventh chapter is done. Please read and review.
