Sword of Steel and Heart of Gold
Donnel Thorne
The smell is anise and cinnamon burnt through his nostrils as Donnel waded through the kitchen at the Shepard garrison. No stew could ever compare to his mother's, though the food that he had eaten the past month at the Capitol was almost good enough to shake his mother's place as number one. Sir Kellam had called him skinny, but another month of this and Donnel was sure he would not be so eager to accuse anymore. A kitchen hand boy smiled and waved as he passed by, welcoming the sight of the young farmer who seemed to make something of a second home in the kitchen. While Donnel wasn't necessarily the grandest chef in Ylisse, he could certainly share more than a secret or two in the kitchen than he could on the battlefield.
Military life was difficult, but not overtly so. When Lord Chrom dropped him off at the garrison and told him he'd begin training to be a Shepard the next day, Donnel had thought he'd be the only recruit to struggle through rounds. It was quite the opposite though. What he lacked in expertise with a sword or lance, Donnel made up for through stamina and sheer determination. Sir Vaike said he'd never seen a faster learner - Donnel would have said something back if he wasn't already gushing and red from the praise.
He missed his mother already though. Waking up to the shouts and laughs of other young girls and boys wasn't something he was used to. He missed the flowery scent she weaved through his washed clothes, and the sound of kitchen tools clambering through the inn. He had already sent her five letters by crow the past week, and had received several more in return. Shepard life was hardly lonely though, as he shared his room with three other recruits who he quickly bonded with. While the first night Donnel's stomach churned and he cried silently with the fear that he had made a mistake, he was glad now that he didn't turn back and run home.
The kitchen hand boy asked him to taste the stew he was brewing, and after a quick sip and two upturned thumbs in reply, he decided that he was actually quite hungry himself. Donnel turned to leave the kitchen, but the sight of wild fiery hair laced with golden bands stopped him, and he found himself staring at the tall and suave man across the kitchen.
"Too much salt, Niles! How many times do I have to tell you before you start taking my advice?" Alistair Andela bemoaned at a kitchen hand. The blonde boy rolled his eyes at him and pushed him aside.
"Didn't you tell me the damn pork was too bland just a week ago, Alistair?" the boy said, "I'll take your advice the day you can awe me with your cooking the same way you awe women on the battlefield."
Alistair scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I'll have you know my cooking is top of the line. Besides, you might kill us all today with this stuff. Can a man die from poisoning from salt?"
"There's a whole bag over there if you'd like to try."
Commander Alistair Andela was as much a man of charisma in person as he was in the stories. He ascended from a modest family, the stories said. Alistair and his twin sister, Cordelia, commanded both rank and beauty, and both were as regal as the mounts they rode on into battle, hair braided and golden armour glistening. His mother had told him that Commander Alistair had taken down a whole horde of bandits himself to protect a village not so far away from the Farfort. Donnel had begged her to take him to see the man, but instead he worked the fields. No one of high rank ever really visited the Farfort, yet each time a march of Shepards came to scout their home, Donnel's head would shoot up from the fields, eyes scanning for a hair of red or blue, or armour of silver and gold.
Donnel tried not to stare, but he must have come across as a gawking flamingo standing there in the middle of the kitchen, mouth open and feet apart. Sir Alistair noticed him and nodded in acknowledgement.
"I haven't seen you around here before, kid." he said. Donnel looked around him and pointed to himself, just to be sure the commander was speaking to him. Sir Alistair nodded.
"I-I came 'round just last month, me-lord!" Donnel sputtered.
"You sound like you come from the country. You the boy Chrom brought back from his march last month?" the commander asked as he waved Donnel over, "Also come here and try this pork. Try to tell me this ain't the saltiest thing you've ever tasted."
Donnel felt a shiver creep up his spine. Acknowledged by Commander Alistair Andela! He waddled awkwardly over to the red headed man and gawked at him from even closer.
"Th-that's right, me-lord. Prince Chrom came an' helped us folk all the way down at the Farfort! I-I didn't wanna seem ungrateful or nothing, and I always wanted to leave the village..."
The blonde kitchen hand - Niles, he remembered, cut him a slice of the pork. Donnel chewed absently as he stared.
"Oh that's right! Yes, I remember now. Chrom told me about you, actually. You're name's...Don? Don something? The Thorne boy."
Donnel could have fainted then and there. To think that a man like Alistair Andela would know a boy like him!
"Yes sir! Me name's Donnel Thorne."
"That's it! Donnel. You helped save one of our best knights, you know? Kellam owes you his life, and I owe you a thank you. It's not every day a common farmer comes to rescue one of my own soldiers." Sir Alistair smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Really though, how's that pork?"
"Salty." Donnel replied immediately, beaming from the praise. Alistair laughed and slapped Niles on the shoulder, who rolled his eyes and threw his hands into the air.
"I didn't realise I was surrounded by culinary experts!" Niles said in exasperation. Sir Alistair patted him on the back and said a quick goodbye before turning to Donnel.
"I need to get out there and get my soldiers off their lazy asses. Someone's got to run those morning rounds, after all. It was nice meeting you kiddo." He said as he pat Donnel on the back.
"Likewise, s-sir! It's...such an honour to meet a knight like you!"
The commander smiled. "And an honour in return to meet a brave young man like yourself." he said. As he walked away, he called over his shoulder, "Oh, and you can drop the sirs next time I see you!"
The commander faded from sight as he slipped through the kitchen door. A beam brighter than a spring sunflower lit Donnel's face. He was very glad he decided to stay.
He must have been standing there for a while more, eyes glittering and mouth agape, as Niles nudged him out of the way to get to some spices on a rack behind him. Donnel sheepishly apologized.
"No need, friend. I suppose it's not every day you meet someone like Alistair Andela, after all." Niles said to him.
"Yeah…" Donnel muttered, "He's so…nice!"
Niles laughed heartily as he sprinkled some pepper onto the steak. "I feel annoying would be more appropriate! I've never met a pickier man."
Donnel smiled awkwardly in response. "Yer cookin' ain't salty by the way," Donnel told him, "I just…"
"A bit star struck?" Niles said, smiling, "I get that. I was like that too, when I first met him. The feeling fades. In the end, the commanders are really no different from us."
"No different to us…" Donnel mumbled to himself. He supposed that logically, in the end, that was true, but he couldn't really wrap his head around it. He had spent only a month here and yet he had met more heroes from more stories than he could even remember. To be greeted by Sir Frederick, to be trained by Sir Vaike, to even be lectured by Lady Miriel! And now, he was recognized by Sir Alistair, one of the greatest heroes of Ylisse, as if he was somehow anywhere near the great commander's level.
To Donnel, he hadn't simply left his home – he had left his whole world and had dove head first into a new one. Yet somehow he wasn't alone, because there were others like him – recruits, maids, kitchen hands – all ordinary people in an extraordinary situation. And here was a man no different than him, likely barely older than him, telling him that the feeling will fade. Somehow, Donnel couldn't really believe him.
He waved Niles goodbye as he made his way into the dining hall, ready to eat his food rather than simply smell or look at it. Gripping onto his plate, he lined himself between sirs and dames, surprised he was even allowed to be served the same food as them. And once he had filled his plate with fine breads, steaks and fruits, Donnel waded through them to find a more familiar face.
"Hey Donny! Over here!" Ricken called from his seat. The young boy sat with Princess Lissa, who smiled and waved at him as well. While they were far more familiar than the great knights like Frederick or Alistair, he certainly hadn't planned on dining with a Princess and a nobleman – but Donnel supposed it couldn't be helped. Even their clothes were plain and simple, and from sight alone no one would ever think them more than commoners. Smiling, he waved back and sat next to Ricken.
"Howdy there Ricken, an' you too lady-princess Lissa!" Donnel said. Lissa huffed at him.
"What, so Ricken gets a normal greeting and I get 'lady-princess'? Honestly Donny, how many times do I have to tell you to drop the formalities?" she complained. Donnel raised his hands in defense.
"Well, yer a princess and yer a lady! What else am I s'posed to call ya?"
"How about…Lissa? I mean, if you're going to call me lady-princess, you could at least call Ricken noble-boy or something."
"Man!" Ricken groaned, "Noble-man!"
"Alright! Alright! I get it," Donnel conceded, "I guess I can learn to drop them titles…eventually."
Lissa only heaved a long sigh, mumbling something about that's a start as she returned to her slice of bread. Donnel dug his fingers into his own bread roll, prying it open as the warm and tender whites wrapped around his fingertips. Freshly cooked, the way he liked it, when he had a chance to eat it before it went cold. The customers always came first, his mother would remind him. He ripped a slice of bacon and stuffed it into the bread, before dipping it into his still too-hot-to-eat eggs. He shoved the food into his mouth, and it burned. Donnel hardly care though. A hot meal was well worth it.
"So how's your training been going, Donny?" Ricken asked him.
"Good!" Donnel replied, swallowing a chunk that he probably should have chewed a bit more, "It's amazing! I can't even believe I get to go out each morn' an' train with real life heroes! I mean, I'm getting' taught by Sir Vaike! I never done thought I'd even meet 'im!"
"Sir Vaike?" Lissa said, snorted on her tea.
"He must love it when you call him that." Ricken said, smiling.
"Well, he ain't got no problem with it. Unlike y'all." Donnel said.
"What an oaf," Lissa said, "don't feed his ego!"
"The last thing we need is Teach going off at us for not calling him sir," RIcken said through laughs, "Could you even imagine?"
"Oh Sir Vaike, you're so amazing! Oh Sir Vaike, can you show me that again? Oh Sir Vaike, your muscles are so big! Oh Sir Vaike!" Lissa feigned as she clasped her hands together, bringing them close to her chest each time she enunciated Sir Vaike.
"Didn't know you felt so strongly about Teach, little Lis." A voice said behind her, his tone almost as bright as his beam. Lissa screeched and threw a bread stick at him.
"Don't sneak up on me like that!" she yelped, "And that was sarcasm! Stone cold sarcasm!"
Vaike laughed at her, his jubilant voice filling the hall. Ricken and Donnel joined him, only for Lissa to screech and whine, throwing a large portion of her bread-like items at them.
Sir Vaike Sarasin, Ylissean Knight and prankster, had a certain aura around him that Donnel couldn't help but feel attached to. He was a loud man, and rather brash at times as well – but he cared and he worked harder than anyone Donnel had met, and he had a big heart to match his big ego. Donnel couldn't help but feel at ease around the oft shirtless man.
"Donny!" Vaike called to him. Donnel snapped to a sloppy salute.
"Sir Vaike!"
"I like this boy," Vaike said to Lissa as he pointed to Donnel, "Does what he's told and he does it damn well. Probably my new favourite recruit!"
Donnel's cheeks glowed pink and his knees began to shake.
"Terribly weak to a good compliment or two though. Needs a bit more ego, Teach thinks."
"Oh please," Lissa sighed, "The last thing we need is for you to corrupt Donnel into some kind of miniature…you!"
"And what's wrong with a bit more of Teach to go around?" Vaike said, flexing. He leaned in close to Lissa though and said, "Unless, you wanna keep me all to yourself, Princess?"
Lissa retched and threw her last breadstick at him, poking his eye. As he groaned and covered it, Lissa feigned throwing up to Ricken and Donnel. They couldn't help but laugh at the pair's antics. As Vaike recovered, he grabbed the breadstick from the floor and stuffed it down the back of Lissa's blouse. The small blonde girl screeched as she stood, drawing all eyes from the dining hall. Exasperated sighs and laughs filled the room. It seemed like everyone was used to the two's games.
"Donny!" Vaike said as he retreated from Lissa, who was redder than the tomatoes on her plate, "Training starts late today, meet me on the field at noon! Got some errands to run! Pass it on!" The man promptly disappeared through the dining hall doors, leaving Lissa scrambling as she desperately tried to remove the bread from her blouse.
"He's terrible!" Lissa screeched as the bread plopped onto the floor. She grabbed it and pointed it to Donnel, "Don't even think about taking after him."
"I won't!" Donnel said, hands in the air, "I swear! Please don't throw the bread at me."
With a small hmph, Lissa flicked her hair and turned. She grabbed her plate and retreated to the kitchen. Donnel smiled nervously at Ricken as the two finished their breakfast in silence. The two stood together, empty plates in hand, and headed for the kitchen.
"What are you going to do?" Ricken asked, "Since you have the morning off now."
Donnel hummed quietly in reply, accompanying it with a non-committal shrug of the shoulder. He placed his dish delicately onto the pile for the kitchen hands to care for and followed Ricken out through the front doors of the mess hall.
"Maybe you can spend some time in the library," Ricken said with an innocent smile, "Practice, you know?"
Donnel cheeks flushed pink, and Ricken smiled absently, unaware. It wasn't a fact he liked to share, but it also wasn't a fact that wasn't exactly without assumption. Donnel was a farm boy, after all, and while now he grew more and more each day, one day hoping to look like the soldier he had enlisted to become, Donnel still held an air of grass and cattle around him. It wasn't too much of an assumption to make – most farm boys couldn't afford the luxury of school, especially boys his age – ones who were born in the boom after the end of the Plegia-Ylisse war twenty years ago to celebratory but poor families, years of wealth destroyed by war taxes and damages.
"Ricken?" Donnel muttered, "Is it that…obvious?"
"Is what obvious?"
Donnel shuffled uncomfortably, repressing the urge to throw his head backwards and sigh in embarrassment.
"Ya know…that I ain't…I ain't grown up like you other guys." He murmured.
"You're actually taller than me, if you haven't noticed." Ricken replied with chagrin.
"No! I mean that I…ya know…that I can't read or write like you folks can." Donnel's cheek went tomato red as he spoke. Though he read and wrote just fine in the company of his mother, who could understand his chicken-scratch writing and vocabulary, Donnel felt pressured by a scrutiny he never even imagined before since arriving in the Shepherd garrison one month ago.
Ricken smiled weakly at him and placed a reassuring hand upon his shoulder. "Donny…no one cares. A lot of people are like you. You're a good guy so I don't think anyone looks at you and see 'that illiterate kid', you know?"
Illiterate…Donnel twisted the taste of the word on his tongue and swallowed heavy, too embarrassed to admit he didn't understand. Instead, he nodded nervously and thanked Ricken for his innocent and blunt kindness.
"I guess I should practice a bit then," Donnel said, "It wouldn't hurt, right?"
"Right!"
They parted by the edge of the fields. Donnel waved as his friend skittered across the training field, narrowly dodging a rather angry and brutish knight who was running laps with his team of recruits. Donnel smiled fondly as he turned and returned to the depths of the garrison, waving through the buildings and into the library. The doors creaked loudly as he moved it aside to get in, and Donnel wondered just how old the building really was.
There was barely a soul alive here. He greeted the librarian by the front entrance, and occasionally spotted another upon ladders as they re-arranged the endless sea of books that stretched and twirled around him, like a maze. But besides from those who worked here, Donnel saw no one else. Perhaps it was the time of day and the fact everyone was training or in the city, but for some reason Donnel envisioned the library to be more busy and bustling than what it truly was. It was as he turned by the corner of another bookshelf that Donnel realized this was the first library he'd ever really been to.
The Farfort had the town hall, the closest thing Donnel could call a library, but even then he seldom visited it besides from a visit to the mayor as he accompanied his mother. The hall paled in comparison to the garrison library though; where endless rows of book piled against each other and the thick smell of old paper permeated the air. Perhaps there were more books in this one library than there were in all of Farfort – Donnel admitted to himself that the thought was not so farfetched. He shuddered, thinking about Yllistol's castle library, which he imagined towered over this building by dozens of floors.
When he had wandered significantly into the mazes of old books and grimoires, Donnel turned full on the spot and realized, with only a small sense of dread, that he had lost his sense of direction. He shrugged though, sure he could ask a library assistant for help, and reached for a red book at the shelf closest to himself. The Sonatas of Grand Empress Sanaki Kirsch Altina, one was titled, and Donnel returned the book immediately, unsure even of what Sonata meant. He reached for a blue one this time, which read Musings of Taint; a recollection of Gharnef's notes on the Altea-Doluna conflict. The title itself made Donnel's head spin, and he returned after spending all too long trying to decipher the meaning of just the first page.
Donnel sighed and turned on his heels, ready to retreat from the library in embarrassment and simply nap until noon. As he walked though, a faint glint of light flickering from the corner of his eye drew his attention. Against a dark and near invisible stairwell, Donnel saw a lantern flickering weakly. He walked to in, curiosity peaked, and when his vision alone was not enough to tear through the wall of darkness that spiraled down the staircase, Donnel hitched a breath and stepped down to the basement, both fearful and curious.
Donnel hadn't even realized the library had a basement. From the outside, it was one of the biggest buildings in the garrison, with three floors that loomed precariously over the ones surrounding it. He supposed it would only make sense for it to be just as grand underneath as well. He had only been there once before now, after all, on the second day – and that was because he was lost.
The basement was not nearly as dark as it looked from above, and when his foot hit the flat surface of the floor, Donnel could see that it was well illuminated with a number of glowing yellow flames. No natural light penetrated through this floor though, as no windows could reach this far into the earth. The enchanting yellow glow of lanterns was beautiful though, and in their own right, brought beauty into the eerily silent room that stretched before him.
A flickering golden light caught Donnel's attention. Amidst the warm aura the lanterns cast, it stood out strangely and invitingly, fluttering in a way that Donnel couldn't help but feel drawn to. Without a thought, he approached the glow warily as he skittered close against the shelves. He peaked out from the safety of the books and glimpsed at the source.
Azrynne looked almost ephemeral, dancing as the wavering golden glow of magic spun around and through her body. Her ashen auburn hair, tied into her signature pony tail, looked a bright and fiery red that could match Sir Alistair's in this light. Her clothing glowed as it reflected that glowing orb she channeled through the palms of her hands. When she turned and span, the sphere protruded from the sole of one foot and through her bare back, Donnel's face flushed pink.
Azrynne wore little, simple clothing. Her pants were large and billowed with her movements, a light creamy orange colour that complimented her shirt, low and backless, kept only by a simply string of ribbon tied around her neck. She wore pale cream gloves, fingerless and palmless, and Donnel realized as the orb again left the sole of her other foot that she was bare footed. Her eyes were closed in concentration, and her face, pretty and plain, reflected a faded and soft golden glow.
It was embarrassing, Donnel admitted to him. The whimsical magics she spun here were for her eyes alone, and he felt unwelcome. As he turned to leave, Donnel knocked the neighbouring bookcase upon which he leant. He grabbed it fiercely as it rocked, a loud clap of dust billowing into the air and two books fell from the shelf.
Azrynne gasped as her eyes snapped open, and she startled herself and tripped on a nearby book, scrambling as she stumbled into a nearby bookshelf. The shelf wavered slightly, and a dozen books toppled over her crumbled form. She squeaked from beneath the pile, eyes wide with shock.
"Goddess above!" she yelped as she reached up, stabilizing the shelf as it loomed over her and catching a falling book with one hand.
Donnel scrambled to help her. "I-I so sorry Lady Azrynne!" he yelped as he began stacking the books in a pile.
"No, no, I'm sorry!" she said to him, forming her own pile of books. She reached for another and smooth the crinkled pages, "That was silly of me. I should be more careful."
She stood with her pile of books and began returning them to the shelf. Donnel stood with his own pile, holding them for her and she slowly began replacing his own pile of books into the shelf.
"I'm sorry I scared ya, Lady Azrynne," Donnel said nervously, "I aint meanin' ta."
"Of course not, dear," She said nervously with a smile, returning his last book to where it belonged. Dear, she had called him, and Donnel smiled. It was like talking to an aunt or an older sister. She brushed the dust off the front of her shirt before patting his ashen purple hair. "You only startled me a little. And what did I tell you about just calling me Azrynne?"
"Right," Donnel said softly, "Azrynne."
Azrynne walked to a nearby table, taking a drink from the wineskin. She released her hair in a flurry of ashen red strands and smoothed the strays that lined her forehead. When she had adjusted her hair into a neat bun, she offered the wineskin to Donnel.
"Water, dear?" she asked. Donnel obliged nervously, taking a sip as Azrynne seated herself at the table. "What brings you, Donnel?"
He returned the wineskin to the table. "I…don't have any trainin' 'til noon."
"So you sought company within the library?" Azrynne raised a perplexed eyebrow.
"I…" Donnel twisted her fingers into nervous loops. Azrynne smiled sweetly at him though, and gestured for him to sit. He did as was told.
"Are you practicing your reading and writing?" she asked. Donnel felt he cheeks flush pink once again. From across the table, Azrynne reached over and took his hands into her own.
"Don't be embarrassed," she told him, "It is okay. You don't face this struggle alone."
"I-I know…" Donnel said nervously. Azrynne squeezed his hands then relinquished, and he felt embarrassed that she would touch his own calloused fingers. "Doncha think it's dumb for a Shepherd ta not know how ta read or write?"
"It's not like you don't know how to read or write at all," Azrynne told him with an encouraging smile and a twirk of the brow, "I have seen your letters sent by raven, to and from your mother. You write to her often. Besides, everyone must start somewhere. Isn't that the case?"
"I suppose…" Donnel trailed.
Azrynne leant back and stared wistfully at a bookcase as she twirled her bangs. "Did you know," she said, raising a hand in explanation, "that Kellam is also from a farm?"
"I did," Donnel said with a small smile, "He told me the other day."
"When our dear knight Kellam first came to the Capitol, he knew nothing of spelling except for a chicken scratch scrawl that was supposedly his name." Azrynne said.
"That aint true!" Donnel said with a wry smile, "Sir Kellam is so smart."
"He practiced," Azrynne said to Donnel sweetly, "He told me, he left for the Capitol as soon as he was able. He was raised in a tightknit family, and they lived alone on their farm, a whole day's travel on horseback to the nearest town. Kellam did not attend school, so how would he know how to read or write when his mother or father were no more than a few minutes' walk away?"
"Ya lyin' to me, Azrynne?" Donnel laughed, but Azrynne shook her head,
"I would never! This is nothing but the truth, Donnel. Kellam is very smart – but your standard of writing doesn't speak a word for your experiences in life. The smartest man in the world could know ten thousand things but not know how to write."
Donnel looked down at his hands. Out of habit, he began playing with them once more.
"How can a guy know ten thousand things and be so smart but don't know how to read or write?" Donnel said softly, "I don't know nothin' like you Shepherds. I don't even know how ta fight."
"Knowledge and wisdom come from all parts of the world, Donnel," Azrynne said softly. She reached her hand out again, and Donnel stared warily at her palms. Tentatively, he reached out for her. "Some knowledge, we are born into, raised into. Some we must discover ourselves. A magistrate's daughter knows every type of fork and spoon, one from another. She knows which knife goes with which food and she knows the exact angle that a bow goes from courteous to sincere. But when she chooses instead to be a healer, not a magistrate, does she suddenly trade years of her knowledge for that of a healers?"
"You were born to a farmer, Donnel, but you chose to be a knight. Just because you were put upon one path does not mean you are set there for life. When you chose to become a knight, you chose also to learn. One does not become a soldier overnight, and one does not become a soldier without humbling themselves with practice. With time, you will accomplish many great things. But this starts only when you take the first step."
Donnel bit his lip, smiling. He looked nervously from his lap to Azrynne. She smiled at him, golden eyes warm with love and care. Donnel tried not to cry.
"Thank you." He said simply, and Azrynne giggled sweetly at him.
"Would you like me to help you study?" she asked, and Donnel nodded.
"That'd be nice."
"Well, this isn't the place to do it, I would say." Azrynne said with a small laugh.
"It aint? It's the library though. Where else are we suppose ta learn about words an' stuff?"
"No, I mean more this floor. I think if we wanted to start, it would be best if we went to the second or third floor. Simpler books with words that even I don't need a moment or two to understand.." Azrynne said as she stood. She began to gather her things – a few books strewn across the floor and table – into her satchel.
"What's down here?" Donnel asked as he looked around. It looked no different to the rest of the library, bar the lack of natural light.
"Magic and history, mostly," Azrynne said, reaching for a book she had dropped beneath the table. "I like to come here in my free time. Less disturbances and interesting material."
"What were you doin' before?" Donnel asked.
"Reading about Exalt Elena. Did you know she single-handedly united –" Azrynne's voice hastened with excitement, though she stopped as she emerged from beneath the table, banging her head hard against it. She yelped and held her head in pain.
"Azrynne! Are you okay?" Donnel ran over and reached for her. She took his hand and steadied herself.
"I'm okay," Azrynne said as she smoothed her hair, "Today's not my day, is it?"
Donnel laughed at her. "Not really. But what I meant was when I walked in on ya. It looked like you was…dancin'?"
"Oh, that," Azrynne returned the book she had hunted beneath the table for to the shelf. "I was channeling my magic. It helps calm the nerves since I'll be running another training drill with Chrom tomorrow."
"I…" Donnel turned pink again. "I don't know what that means."
"You don't know what a training drill is?" Azrynne's eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
"No! I meant…that magic stuff. You were…channeling stuff? I ain't got a clue what that is."
"You don't?" Azrynne said, surprised, "Don't you have mages in the Farfort?"
"Not really. We had a couple, but they all go to the Capitol or some other cities ta train and stuff. I never actually met one until I met with you guys and came here. Actually, one of me uncles on my da's side was a mage. He fought in the war."
"That's fascinating!" Azrynne said, leaning towards Donnel. "So you don't know much about magic at all, do you?"
Donnel shook his head.
"Would you like me to tell you about it?" Azrynne asked.
"That'd be nice." Donnel smiled. He always did like learning about things, and something as fascinating as magic was something that caught his attention immediately. During training, when they moved away from the field and closer to the mountain side where the mages trained, Donnel always found himself distracted by the bolts of lightning and flares of fire that shot across the sky.
Azrynne placed her satchel on the table and stood before Donnel, palms facing outwards towards him. She closed her eyes briefly and breathed in, and suddenly her palms began to glow gold. Not just her palms, though – Donnel saw too that her back emitted this golden light, along with her forehead and the soles of her feet. As suddenly as the light began, it stopped all at once. Donnel stared wide eyed as Azrynne spoke.
"Magic is an intricate flow of life and energy. Each person is born with this energy, but only some are born with enough to harness. Take Stahl or Kellam, for example. They have the same magical energy as me flowing through their bodies – but it's people like me, or Lissa, or Miriel, or Sumia, who have enough excess life energy that we can actually channel it into a tangible element in the physical world."
The golden orb returned with a flick of the wrist, balanced carefully atop her palm. She bounced it from one hand to another, then it disappeared into her palm, only to re-emerge as Azrynne kicked up her left foot. It came from the sole, and she danced with it, speaking all the same.
"To bring this energy into the physical world, we need to channel it through our magical ports. Ports are locations on our body where we can pool this energy and release it into the world – a place where the connection between immaterial and material is the weakest. Energy naturally pools at the chest, but by channeling it to ports, we get things like this." Azrynne gestured to the ball that glowed in her hands, and it split into two and disappeared into both her palms once again.
"The very centre of your palm is a port. You'll often see mages wearing open gloves – covering it will only cover the port, and casting spells will just ruin a perfectly fine pair of gloves. Another port is the forehead, or your inner eye. Magic channeled through here is usually the most advanced magic, but it's difficult to channel. Only truly master sages can channel through the inner eye. The soles of your feet are also ports for magic, like your hands. Not many people channel through their soles though, since in battle it's too dangerous to walk around barefoot. The final port is the back." Azrynne turned away from him, showing her bare back.
"Energy naturally pools at your chest, so the back is the easiest place to channel your magic. It's dangerous, though. Leaving your back bare in battle isn't a sound decision. It's also more difficult to control. Because so little effort is required to channel into your back, magic expelled from here is stronger than anywhere else. Mages often have trouble controlling the sheer amount of energy they release from their backs.
"We often teach mages to channel through their other ports, as the back is dangerous. The most common are palms, obviously. More often than not, a young mage will discover that she's a mage because she's burnt through the lining of the back of her clothes," Azrynne chuckled softly. "Princess Lissa told me that's how they knew she had the talent."
"Wait," Donnel said as she turned back to him, "Prince Chrom don't have the talent though, does he? How can Princess Lissa and Exalt Emmeryn have the talent but not him?"
"The same way your uncle does and you do not," Azrynne chided him. Donnel laughed nervously when he realized that was true. "Magic is hereditary, though not all children born of mages can channel magic. Magic can come from the most distant family, though. I've heard of children being born with magic when their distant great grandfather was the only known mage in the family! Very rarely though, a child of two mages can be born with little excess energy in them. Prince Chrom is unfortunately one of these cases."
"That makes sense," Donnel said, "Is magic hard? What's it like to cast all them spells and stuff?"
"It can be difficult, and it can be dangerous. A stray spell could hurt you or anyone nearby. But it is…satisfying. It's hard to explain. I love it. The feeling of manipulating the energy within me…I feel…complete, as I channel it through my veins. I can feel the flow of power pooling at my chest. To make it move with sheer force of will…it is a wondrous and otherworldly feeling. Most satisfying. Though it's uncomfortably hot."
"Hot?"
"As we use the energy within us, it begins to burn. I don't really know how to describe it…" She hummed quietly to herself as she thought of an analogy.
"Do you know when you run as fast as you can for as long as you can? That hot, aching feeling that comes from the core of your muscles? It feels like that, but in your blood and your skin. When I use magic, I start to feel my energy heating, boiling. It gets hotter and hotter, as if the air around me has increased by a thousand summers. It's very tiring. This is why mages are not walking trebuchets of fireballs. It burns us out because it's too much effort for us to do all at once or to do continuously. It's also why you never see a mage clad in full armour. Heavy steel plates makes us overheat, so we reach our limit faster. Using too much magic could hurt us. It could kill some people."
"I-it could kill ya?" Donnel's eyes widened in horror.
"Yes. Burnt alive by the heat of the fires or simply burnt out from the strain on the body. The magical energy we channel is our very life energy. In time, the energy we expel into the physical world will naturally return to us. But using too much of that excess energy can be dangerous. If there's nothing left for you to channel, mages can begin channeling the energy that keeps them alive. It can cut years of your life away. If you channel too much of the essence that keeps you alive…" Azrynne's voice softened, and Donnel felt a chill go through his spine.
"This is why dark magic is a horrible thing," Azrynne told him, voice naught but a whisper. "Dark magic does not channel excess energy. It channels your life essence. That's what makes it stronger, as this energy is energy used to keep man alive. It is stronger, more potent, more deadly. Dark magic takes away the energy of others and restores it to the mage. It cripples the enemy from the inside."
"That's…scary." Donnel said simply. He shuddered, and Azrynne smiled and pat his back in reassurance, her voice regaining a chipper beat.
"Dark magic is illegal practice in Ylisse. Only those with explicit permission from the Exalt or the ruling monarch can practice it, and they may only practice on willing volunteers. It is too dangerous an art. I assure you, you'd likely never run into a dark mage here."
"That's good ta know," Donnel said, staring at his hands. "I wonder what it would be like if I could channel magic."
"You can try, if you'd like." Azrynne said to him.
"I'm not a mage though."
"Doesn't mean you can't try. Everyone is born with a bit of extra life energy. Some are born with enough to manifest into magic, some are born with just enough for a few simple tricks. You said all the mages in your town were sent away to teachers, did you not? I assume that means there was no one around to tell you these things."
"That's right! So, I could do that funny glowin' dance stuff like you?"
Azrynne giggled at him. "Perhaps! Let's try, shall we?"
Donnel nodded at Azrynne eagerly, a beam lighting his face. She instructed him to sit at a chair by the table and turned him around to face her. She knelt before him and held his hands. Donnel smiled nervously.
"I'm going to channel some of my own energy into you. This is what clerics do to heal the injured. It'll feel very warm. When you feel it in your palms, try to move that energy towards your chest."
"How do I do that?"
"I can't describe it. It's a feeling. Close your eyes and focus on the feeling. Envision the energy at your palms flowing towards your chest. Some people can't do it. Don't feel discouraged. Just try."
"Okay."
Azrynne's hand glowed gold as she clasped to his. Donnel looked at her face and saw she had her eyes closed in concentration. The line of her brows knit delicately as she muttered something wordlessly to herself. Donnel felt his hands begin to warm, and he closed his own eyes.
Her hands were warm. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel them glowing, he could feel as a soft, warm tug came from his own palms. Something about it was so ethereal, as if he was in a dream. He could feel…something. Something in his hands, warm and with shape, yet without shape all the same.
Envision it flowing towards your chest.
Donnel did as was told. He imagined Azrynne's warm golden glow at his fingertips, imagined them flowing up his arms. He felt his wrist tingle, and he giggled slightly at the ticklish touch. His arms felt warm now. He could barely feel Azrynne's hands on his own as he felt her magic channel through his body. A patch of skin behind his ears started to feel ticklish as the energy flowed up his shoulder and began to pool around his neck. Donnel laughed again, and suddenly he felt the heat drop to his stomach. It was shocking, yet oddly satisfying.
Donnel felt the energy twirl at his belly and move across his chest. It was somewhat ticklish, but it felt nice. He focused and forced the energy to flow back to his neck, and it did so. He giggled even louder when he felt the warm flow tickling at his ears again. He imagined it at his palms, and it did so. His palms were warm, but different.
While at first, he felt Azrynne's soft golden touch within him, now he felt something different. Something fresher; something that reminded him of home. A soft tug at his chest that made him think of his father. He missed him.
Donnel opened his eyes. Azrynne was standing now, brows raised in even higher archers than normal. Her mouth was slightly agape, and when he smiled at her she smiled nervously back. Donnel saw her run her hands through her hair. Donnel realized with a start that they no longer held onto his own. He looked to his hand.
His palms glowed with an ashen light he did not recognize as Azrynne's golden glow. Between his hands, floating just slightly as it bounced from one palm to another, Donnel saw a soft purple ball.
"I'm not doing that, Donnel." Azrynne whispered.
"You're…not?" Azrynne smiled and shook her head. As Donnel's eyes widened, all too suddenly did the ball fade from sight, and Donnel felt the warm dissipate from his body.
"Donnel," Azrynne whispered to him, "You have the talent."
Donnel stared at her golden eyes. They flickered with an excitement that Donnel knew held truth. Yet he found himself unable to believe her. He had…talent? The talent to wield magic? It was a mistake, he thought, yet he would never dare to question Azrynne on her own knowledge – especially when it came to magic.
"I don't understand," he said simply, "I never done this before."
"Some people find it late," Azrynne muttered, almost to herself, "Eighteen years late, it seems."
"This don't make sense!"
"But it does!" Azrynne said with barely contained excitement, "You said your uncle was a mage, didn't you? There is magic flowing through your family, Donnel! You have the talent!"
"I have the talent…" Donnel said to himself, though it was more a question than anything.
"I'll tell Miriel immediately. We can get a magic tutor for you. You can start practicing immediately, learn to control it. I didn't sense a lot while I helped you channel just then, but it might be dormant from eighteen years of inactivity! This is amazing, Donnel. This is exciting! This is unbelievable! Donnel, you're a mage. At least, you have the potential to be one. We need to find Miriel right now!"
Azrynne spoke faster than he'd ever heard, and she lost that regal composure she usually carried with her. Her excitement was contagious, and Donnel felt something stirring within himself as she spoke. Donnel had never thought himself to be special. He was ordinary, he thought. Perhaps he was a faster learner than others, and some things came more easily to him. But he never excelled in anything. He was a fine kitchenhand at the inn, he was a fine farmer in the fields, he was even a fine recruit at the garrison…but to be exceptional, special, unique, to be good at something – truly good at something…the thought never crossed his mind.
As he ran with Azrynne, her satchel tossed haphazardly over her shoulder and his hand clamped excitedly inside her own, Donnel felt a heat rise within his chest. Not magic, though – it was pure excitement. As they stood before Miriel just outside the women's quarters where she read peacefully by the shade of the tree, Donnel felt his knees shaking wildly. Azrynne spoke with a fervor he'd never heard before, and at each prompt, Donnel too felt his voice squeaking from anticipation.
I'm special, Donnel thought to himself. When Miriel looked at him and smiled (for the first time since he arrived, he noted), Donnel felt his stomach drop. He returned her smile as Miriel held his shoulder, both her and Azrynne beaming at him with a pride he had never truly seen before.
"You have the talent." They told him.
Donnel was one of the few left on the fields. It was late afternoon, and the retreating sun left stains of pink and orange across the sky. He gripped his wooden training sword tightly as he stared down the straw dummy not two metres across from him. He inhaled sharply and bolted at the target, his sword above his head as he went to strike down on the dummy's wooden helm. His sword hit the helm with a loud thud, but his wooden sword slid against the side of the helm and down the seams of the dummy. Donnel's momentum continued forward and he tripped haphazardly over his feet. He slashed at the dummy sidewards as he stumbled, and a wooden arm went flying as he cut it from the target.
The arm landed just a few metres away from him. Sir Stahl bent over and picked up the hand, waving at Donnel with it as he rose. Next to him, Lady Lilya waved with a small smile. Donnel's face went pale when he realised the two Shepherds had been there watching for some time.
"Still out practising?" Stahl asked as he approached Donnel. Stahl held a wooden training sword in one hand and the arm of the straw dummy in the other. His hair was messy, as always, and he wore a casual green tunic ill fit for training, as if he was on the way to dinner. Lilya followed quietly behind him. Her hair was loose for once, not in the braid or a bun he was accustomed to seeing, and she also wore a simple white tunic that implied she had already finished training for the day.
"Yes sir!" Donnel said, saluting, "I just wanna catch up with all the other recruits is all."
Donnel then bowed curtly to Lilya. "Afternoon, Lady Lilya!" She only laughed in response.
"Oh, come on Donny, how many times do I have to ask you to stop calling me sir?" Stahl replied. Donnel scratched his cheek.
"Almost as many times as I've asked him to stop calling me lady." Lilya mused.
"Right. Sorry, guys. Not really used to bein' 'round knights yet."
Lilya scoffed, "Stahl is the knight, not me." Beside her, Stahl grimaced and shook his head.
"I might be a knight, but my name isn't written in any history books quite yet."
"But y'all are still heroes! I ain't nothing but a villager compared to y'all." Donnel said.
Stahl raised an eyebrow and stabbed the dummy's stick arm against Donnel's chest, "My family runs an apothecary," he said as he repeatedly poked Donnel's chest with the hand, "Lilya was a mercenary up until two months ago. Kellam's from a farm west of Baiyon. One of Sumia's bunkmates, Susanna, grew up in the lower districts, and her other bunkmate, Calla, comes from the eastern slums. In fact, so does Vaike! We might be Shepards, Donny, but we're not much different from you."
"You're right," Donnel said with a nervous smile, "I'll get used to it, swear!"
"Good." Stahl said, smiling at the boy. He walked over to the straw training dummy and stabbed one end of the stick into its side, clumsily trying to reassemble it. "You did a good job on this guy." he told Donnel, and Lilya quipped up from behind him.
"Your stance needs work, however." She said, with a small and almost cheeky smile. Donnel went red at the memory of his tumble.
Sir Vaike had told him the same thing this noon. You're a quick learner, he told him, but your stance needs work. I could knock you over with my pinkie! And Teach is not gonna let his students get away with that. Donnel had spent his afternoon training, toying with the wooden sword as he tried to better ground himself in battle.
"We can help you, if you'd like." Lilya said, snapping him back to reality. Donnel gripped onto his sword with both hands, twirling it around nervously back and forth.
"Don't you have something else to do?" he asked, then motioned to their clothing, "Y'all look like ya finished trainin' today. I'd hate to interrupt."
Stahl smiled and waved him off, "We were on our way to the dining hall together before you saw you out on the field. We came out to get you, but if you're out here anyway we might as well lend a hand, don't you think? I always have time for my friends," he said. Stahl turned to Lilya and waved his sword at her, "And Lilya wouldn't offer if she didn't want to. Right?"
Lilia nodded and approached him, motioning for Stahl's sword. He handed it over and stepped aside. "The offer is open." She said.
"Well…if y'all insist." Donnel conceded.
"Come," Lilya said, motion towards him as she stepped away from Stahl to make room, "And leave your sword. We will move to that later."
"But...I thought we was workin' on my sword stance?"
"True, but when you learn to play an instrument, you don't start on a classical sonata. We take baby steps first, Donnel." Lilya said. Stahl winked at him as he nodded to the Lilya, encouraging him to follow her lead.
Lilya stood with her legs apart a fair distance, knees bent just slightly. She took a deep breath in and gestured to his chest.
"Knock me down." she said. Donnel cocked his head curiously to the side first, but after another nod of encouragement from Stahl, he complied.
Lilya was a small woman. Donnel, barely an adult at eighteen, already stood inches taller than her. Her build was slim, and though her arms were muscular from years of lance work atop a Pegasus, she looked nothing compared to Donnel, who had the build to match a strong farmer.
Aiming for Lilya's chest, Donnel ran at her and tried to shove his shoulder against the peach haired warrior. Just as he was about to make contact though, Lilya shifted her weight just a fraction - and with a light push, she toppled the farm boy over by knocking his incoming shoulder barge aside. Donnel hit the grass rather unceremoniously and looked up at Lilya with surprise. Even their difference in ability, Donnel still didn't expect to be bested so easily from someone so small.
Lilya laughed at him, "I never said I wasn't going to fight back!" Donnel smiled as he stood, smudging grass green stains across his knees and chest.
"The key to a good stance is flexibility. You need to place yourself firm to the ground, but be able to move at a moment's notice." Lilya said as she approached Donnel. She gently tapped at Donnel's feet with her own, directing him to shift his feet where she deemed appropriate. Donnel tried not to blush when her delicate fingers brushed against the small of his back.
"Move leg over a bit. Good. Now bend your knees, just a bit. There you go. This is a basic stance you can use in hand-to-hand situations. When you're better with a sword, or axe, or whatever it is you choose, you can start to develop a weapon specific stance, but until you learn to use a tool as an extension of yourself, you will be at your best with the limbs you were born with. A common mistake people make is to ground themselves too weak to the ground. When this happens..."
Lilya pushed hard at Donnel's shoulder, and he stepped back to regroup himself.
"When this happens, you will fall. If you widen your stance a bit..." Lilya tapped his left foot with her own, "You can place more weight in your stance. So when I push..." Lilya repeated her earlier motion. Donnel saw her hand move fast, and braced himself as the blow connected. He staggered, but didn't move his feet.
"...so when I push, you don't fall. Let's try that again. Shift your weight to accommodate to the direction I come at you, but try not to break your stance."
Lilya circled around Donnel, striking him at random moments and location as Donnel haphazardly tried to brace himself. While at first, he flinched and broke his posture, he learned quickly to rewrite his body's automatic response. As Lilya pushed the bottom of her palm towards Donnel's shoulder, he leant into the blow, diffusing it with his own force. Lilya circled and struck his back - Donnel turned his upper body quickly, pushing against the blow.
"Good!" Lilya said, a beam of a smile following. "You learn very quickly."
"I get told that a lot." Donnel said with a grin. Lilya smiled and stepped aside as Stahl approached.
"Good start, Donny." He praised, and Donnel blushed and laughed nervously.
"It's good to know some basic forms and whatnot when it comes to fighting. Whether you're fighting with a sword or an axe, sometimes things happen and you've got to get down and dirty with your hands. It's good to know how to use what you've got."
Stahl suddenly threw his fist at Donnel's face, and Donnel yelped in complete shock before Stahl stopped just an inch from his jaw.
"A strong punch to the jaw is enough to knock a man out. Make sure when you form a fist, you keep your thumb tucked to the outside of your fingers. Don't wrap your fingers around it. You'll break it."
Stahl motioned with his hand, then suddenly kicked out with his leg. He stopped his knee just shy from Donnel's stomach once again, but Donnel yelped all the same. He heard Lilya giggle.
"Most people go for the groin, but when you're padded down with armor then you can bet your ass your enemy won't feel it. What you should do is try to get them in the liver." Stahl poked Donnel's stomach, presumably at the liver, "Most armour is padded around the chest, and armour joints are often found at the liver. It's the weakest part of armour, and a good blow there is so painful it'll incapacitate most of your enemies, even if you just used your fist."
Stahl reached gently for Donnel this time, and asked for permission to demonstrate his next movement. Donnel complied as Stahl wrapped his arms slowly and gently around the boy's neck.
"I won't do it too hard. If you can get them in a headlock like this, hold on tight. Put pressure against the neck and the jaw. You can either incapacitate them or knock them out completely. It's a good opportunity to get a friend out of trouble or get them to help you out. If you're alone though…"
Stahl gripped the sides of Donnel's face.
"Put pressure as you hold here, and twist to the right. As hard as you can. This is lethal, or at least close to it if done wrong. It's a worst case scenario movement. Understood?"
Stahl released Donnel and moved back to face him. Donnel nodded briskly, and Stahl smiled.
"Don't worry though. You're young and you're still a recruit. I doubt you'll need to use that one anytime soon. The worse you'll come across when you've been promoted and assigned to a battalion is a bandit raid or something like that."
Donnel nodded as Stahl continued his explanations. He saw Lilya watching them both closely, arms crossed and nodding.
"Use your knees when you can. Hands are frail, you won't believe how many recruits get into fist fights and the winner still ends up at the infirmary because he broke every bone in his hands. If you want to hurt someone, knee them in the stomach or the jaw."
"What kind of barbaric things are you teaching this poor boy?" A voice called to them suddenly.
Donnel and Stahl both flinched in shock, not realizing Lissa and Maribelle had approached them from across the field. Lilya bowed curtly at the presence of Lissa, and Donnel remembered that as a member of the Pegasi Guard, Lilya was responsible for the more personal attendance and guard of the royal family.
Lissa smiled and dismissed Lilya, waving off her insisted formalities. She waved happily at Stahl then greeted Donnel too. She looked not all too different from when he saw her at the mess hall during breakfast. Her hair was tied back into a single pony tail though, different from what he was used to.
Next to her, Maribelle looked as perfect as always, long blonde curls flowing across her shoulder like a river of hair. Her clothing, pristine, pink and rather expensive compared to everyone else's, even Lissa's, seemed barely touched, every fold and layer perfectly aligned. Donnel wondered how she had the time or energy for that.
"You guys scared the crap out of me!" Stahl said, clutching his chest.
"Vulgar techniques to match your vulgar language, I see." Maribelle said slowly, voice monotone. She twirled a parasol in her hand idly as Lissa shushed her.
"Oh come on, Mari. What do expect from Shepherds? We're a pretty crap lot." The Princess said. Donnel was taken aback, but Stahl simply smirked and Donnel could see that while Lilya hid her mouth behind her hand, it was a smile she was suppressing, not an expression of surprise.
"Lissa, you are a Princess, not a hooligan! Look at what you scoundrels have done to her!" Maribelle directed the last statement at Stahl. He raised his hands in defense.
"Now, now, now…The Princess joins as by her own will, isn't that right?"
"You're damn right!" Lissa said, and Maribelle groaned and placed her fingers to her forehead. Donnel braved a giggle at the two.
"You think that's funny, farm boy?" Maribelle snapped at him. Donnel felt every inch of himself retreat into his stomach.
"N-no, Lady Themis!" Donnel said defensively. He haphazardly saluted her. Stahl both laughed and sighed as he shook his head.
"Oh, don't do that," he said as he knocked away Donnel's hand, "You'll feed her ego."
Maribelle crossed her arms and scoffed, "Ego or not, there's no shame in knowing one's place. You're all right if you know how to address a lady like myself."
While Stahl rolled his eyes, Lilya curtsied beside him. "You're right, of course, Lady Themis. Though for all his brashness, you can't deny that Stahl has good intentions at heart."
"If only all soldiers were as dear as you are, Lilya." Maribelle said with a sigh. Lilya smiled at the praise, but Stahl groaned.
"That aside," Stahl said as he deepened his voice, "What have we done that has earned us this gracious visit?"
Lissa giggle at Stahl's put-on accent, which mimicked the one Maribelle and others in the upper ring of the Capitol had. Maribelle rolled her eyes.
"I'm here for the Thorne boy, not you, actually."
"You really know how to break a man's heart, don't you?" Stahl sighed dramatically, throwing his head to the side. After a moment's pause, he said, "Take him. Don't eat him."
Abruptly, he pushed Donnel towards the girls, and Donnel yelped. Lissa only laughed as Maribelle continued to frown at them.
"You are all impossible." She said simply.
"Just a joke, Maribelle." Stahl said with a small smile. Despite his exasperation, it was clear Stahl did care for the blonde noble.
"W-what do ya need me for, Lady Themis?" Donnel asked nervously as he approached Maribelle.
"Miriel told you that you'd be assigned a magical instructor, did she not?" Donnel nodded quickly and silently. Maribelle sounded bored. "Well, t'would be the will of lady luck herself that the honour befalls to me. Congratulations."
Donnel knew better than to groan, but he did so anyway. It was soft though, and luckily Maribelle didn't catch it. Lilya spoke up next to him, confused.
"A magic instructor? For Donnel?" She asked.
"You haven't heard?" Lissa asked, surprised. "Azrynne was in the library practicing with her magic. Donnel came and they tried channeling magic with him for fun. Turns out he was pretty good at it! Azrynne thinks with a bit of training he could wield some light offensive magic in the battlefield as well."
"This is all simple conjecture, of course." Maribelle said. Donnel didn't know what that meant, but didn't have the spirit or time to ask as she continued speaking. "Azrynne is speaking off a feeling. Little Donnel here is years behind in terms of magical studies. At best he'd be able to channel a few small spells here and there to help in battle. At worst, he learns a new party trick."
Lilya and Stahl had tuned out of Maribelle's negativity though, already congratulating Donnel.
"I was a late bloomer as well, magically speaking," Lilya said, patting his shoulder, "Congratulations." Donnel blushed at her praise.
"It's great to hear, buddy!" Stahl said as he slapped Donnel on the back. Donnel smiled nervously again, not used to all the compliments he was being given. "Who would have thought, huh? Good on you. Bet you're glad you ran into Azrynne when you did, hey?"
"It was nice," Donnel told him, "She was nice."
"Oh yes, I'm sure she is," Maribelle said, "She actually wanted to be your tutor, but Miriel assigned me instead."
"Oh?" Donnel asked, confused. He wouldn't admit it, but he was only a little disappointed. "Why?"
"I'm not sure. I don't know the woman myself, but she's skilled enough in her abilities. Miriel said that Frederick didn't approve." Maribelle explained with a wave of the hand. She seemed not to care.
"Why not?" Donnel asked.
"She's new." Stahl said suddenly. Everyone turned their eyes to him and he stammered. "I-I mean, that's why, right? She's basically a recruit."
"She is?" Donnel asked, shocked. He didn't know that. "But…she's just as skilled as the other Shepherds! Haven't you seen her on the field? And she ran that training drill all by herself a week ago! Actually, isn't she doing it again tomorrow?"
"Oh," Stahl said, "Yeah…she is." He bit his lip as Donnel frowned.
"Is it…did Azrynne do something bad?" Donnel asked, turning between Stahl and Lilya as he asked. "Is…she in trouble?"
Lissa quickly stepped towards Donnel and place her hands on his shoulders. "No! Not at all…why would you ever think that?"
Donnel frowned a little and kicked at the dirt nervously with his feet. He began twirling his fingers together as he tried to avoid eye contact with the Princess.
"Well, it's just…" Donnel began softly. Lissa shook his shoulder softly and leant closer, urging him to continue. "Well, it's just that…Sir Vaike don't really seem t'like her is all."
Lissa frowned. "He likes her just fine. He's just a grumpy old man." Behind her, Maribelled scoffed, and Lissa whipped her head around so fast that he ponytail slapped Donnel across the face.
"It's true." Lissa insisted, but Maribelle cross her arms and frowned.
"To a blind man, perhaps. Or a deaf one. Or both. It's far from secret that Vaike abhors the woman. Even Frederick seems to dislike her." Maribelle said. Lissa almost whined in reply, but Maribelle silenced her by raising a hand. Her eyebrows knit together, and she looked more terse than usual.
"Honestly, Lissa, don't try to lie to me. It's not becoming of a Princess. Surely you can see how much they dislike the woman." Maribelle said.
Donnel might not be used to city folk, and he might have been nothing but a recruit, but even he didn't miss the disdain in which Frederick and Vaike treated Azrynne. While Frederick's was subtle, and Donnel was more than willing to brush it off as mere strictness of authority until Maribelle confirmed it, Vaike's dislike of Azrynne was wildly obvious. From the glares the two shared to their rough attitudes during training and even the near venomous way they even ignored each other, it was obvious to everyone that Vaike hated Azrynne. Perhaps what made it even stranger still was how seemingly out of character it was for the man.
Vaike was well loved. He was sweet, funny, charismatic and boisterous. While even the quieter Shepherds like Maribelle or Miriel had a distaste for his behavior, it was still clear they adored the man as a steadfast ally and friend. Vaike hated no one and loved everyone – except for Azrynne.
"It's just a bit of a mystery as to why," Maribelle said, "What is our dear Azrynne's little secret, I wonder?"
Beside him, Lissa went quiet. Her lips pursed together into a thin line, and she looked almost pale as she avoided Maribelle's eyes. It was clear the conversation was making her uncomfortable, but Donnel could see no reason why. The air grew heavy and terse; Donnel couldn't help but grow more curious as neither Lissa nor Stahl seemed to be able to find words.
"Perhaps she's a disdained lover," Lilya suddenly said to break the silence, "Vaike's quite attractive, is he not? He hardly seems the type to know how to sustain a small dalliance after a night of passion, though. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, no?"
Donnel felt his cheeks go red. He played with his fingers even more intensely as he tried not to think about the idea of Azrynne and Vaike…alone. Together. In private. Donnel shuddered and wrapped his hands around his face and looked nervously to Stahl. To his surprise, the green knight was also just as red at Lilya's proposal. Next to him, Lissa squirmed uncomfortably, and even Maribelle looked displeased at the thought. Lilya simply stood with her hands clasped neatly behind her back, a faint smile on her lips as if she was completely unaware of the awkward air that had risen.
"That would certainly explain…a lot," Maribelle admitted, coughing. She almost desperately tried to change the subject. "Let us just leave this mystery to that conclusion then."
"What? No!" Lissa said. Her outburst was shocking, and everyone (bar Lilya, who was unsettlingly undisturbed by the conversation) looked with her in bewilderment, as if pleading with her 'Why on earth do you wish to keep discussing this?'
"I-I mean…" Lissa went a brighter shade of red, "Azrynne's hardly Vaike's…type…He'd never…I-I just think…" It was almost as if she immediately regretted her words. She covered her face and shook her head.
"Let's stop talking about this." Stahl said briskly. The group near unanimously agreed. There was an awkward silence that was only broken by the groaning of Stahl's stomach, and the green knight went red once again. Stahl laughed nervously.
"I think that's enough idle chatter for today. My stomach hungers!" Donnel felt astonishingly grateful for an excuse to leave the training field and continue to the mess hall. As Stahl rushed them off the field, the group found themselves separated as Lilya and Maribelle accompanied each other to the mess hall while Stahl and Donnel returned their training weapons to the shed. Lissa sheepishly followed the two men, cheeks still red as she was obviously in thought.
Donnel returned the two swords to their correct barrel as Stahl and Lissa waited for him at the door of the building. When he returned, Lissa looked almost upset.
"Lissa? What's wrong?" Donnel asked. In response, her cheeks went only a soft pink once again, and she brushed him off.
"Nothing." She said, but beside him, Donnel saw a sly smile creep onto Stahl's face as he narrowed his eyes.
"You're a liar." Stahl said in a song-like voice.
"What?" Lissa gasped, "Don't accuse the princess of lying!"
"Oh, but she is!" Stahl continued, his smile turning into a grin, "And I know just what she's thinking about!"
"What?" Lissa whined, but Stahl edged closer and sang louder.
"She's thinking about a boy!" He said, and Lissa yelped and slapped his shoulder. Donnel raised a brow curiously.
"Shut up!" Lissa whined, and Stahl laughed.
"Oh don't worry, Donnel and I won't tell anyone about your little crush." Stahl said slyly. Lissa slapped Stahl's shoulder again, and then Donnel's too, which caught him surprised.
"Wha-what!" Donnel said.
"You're both terrible!" The princess whined. Stahl laughed as Donnel stared, confused. When Stahl turned and saw Donnel''s confused expression, he only laughed louder.
"What?" Donnel said.
"Oh Donny, don't tell me you're oblivious to our Princess's little crush!" Lissa screamed at him and slapped him again. Stahl caught her wrist though, laughing as he teased her.
"Isn't it cute?" Stahl teased, "When's the wedding?"
"Whose wedding?" Donnel asked in exasperation as Lissa squealed.
"The Princess and Vaike, of course!" Stahl said laughing. Lissa practically pounced at him, fists balled together and she punched his chest and shoulders.
"Shut! Up! Stahl!" she screamed at him, and suddenly Donnel understood. The teasing, the breadsticks, the blushing…Donnel smiled on reflex.
"Ya like Sir Vaike?" Donnel said, and Lissa screamed and pulled herself away from Stahl as she jumped on Donnel and began to attack him too. Donnel yelped and raised his arms in defense.
"I do not!" Donnel thought he heard somewhere in her squeals. Stahl pulled Lissa off Donnel in pity, and she huffed and screamed at them both while Stahl laughed.
"Is that why you went so red at the thought of him alone and –" Lissa punched his shoulder before he could finish, except harder this time, with enough force that Stahl actually flinched.
"Oh, I get it!" she said loudly, "You like Azrynne!"
Stahl looked like his mother had slapped him. His face was laced with confusion, unsure how on earth Lissa had come to that conclusion.
"What? You went red as well, if I recall! Thinking about Azrynne when Lilya mentioned her—"
"I most certainly did not!" Stahl argued.
"You did!"
"Not!"
"Liar!"
"It's not Azrynne I –" Stahl choked out before he pursed his lips together tightly. Lissa grin overtook her face as her eyes opened wide. It looked as if she just saw a mound of gold laid bare before her.
"You do like someone!" Lissa squealed.
It was like watching children. For the next few minutes they stood there arguing, Donnel forgot that Stahl was a knight. He forgot that Lissa was a Princess. He forgot entirely that they stood in the weapons building in the Shepherd Garrison in Yllistol. Donnel was not hundreds of miles away from home – rather he was at home, minding the inn, watching with a smile as his two friends teased each other over things like crushes and love.
It never crossed Donnel's mind that something so mundane could be so real for people like Stahl or Lissa. Knights, princes, princesses…they were all in a league of their own, at least that's what Donnel thought. They weren't human, not like Donnel was. They were heroes. They were stories. They were the old faded inks in library books at the town hall.
It was humbling, Donnel thought with a smile. Of course they got hungry, like Stahl. Of course they had crushes, like Lissa. Of course they were clumsy, like Sumia, and forgetful like Vaike. For all the wonders that being a Shepherd entailed, Donnel often forgot that they were people too – people not quite unlike him.
Reaching forward as he stepped between the bickering duo, Donnel laughed and separated them.
"I don't care who y'all fancy!" Donnel said with a smile, "I just want me some food!"
As if on cue, Stahl's stomach rumbled again. He went red as Lissa and Donnel laughed at him.
"I think I already know who ya fancy, Stahl," Donnel said, "It ain't Azrynne. Ain't no guy or gal I know. It's that pork Niles cooked up in the kitchen, ain't it?"
"You got me," he said, rolling his eyes and raising his hands in defeat, "Don't tell anyone…I'm supposed to surprise her."
They shared a laugh before they left the weapon's building, finally heading towards the mess hall. Donnel swung the door shut, lingering for just a second before following them. He stared at the building, marvelling at its size.
The last month had been so different and new. It often scared him, the thought that he would be staying with the Shepherds permanently. He often thought the dream would end and he would miss home too much to stay. And he did miss home, there was no point in denying that. But he had no intentions on leaving Ylisstol. Donnel loved the city. He loved the Garrison and he loved the Shepherds.
Turning to catch up with Stahl and Lissa, Donnel smiled to himself. Donnel loved his new home.
Author's Notes
I know, I know. It's been a whole year. I'm bad at this, okay? Let's just say I had major writer's block. With this chapter, I desperately wanted to tear myself away from the main plot and begin humanising and giving life to characters beyond just Azrynne or Stahl or Chrom. I'll admit I had a lot of trouble. I love Donnel, I love writing from his point of view! It was difficult though to write from his point of view and further the story.
Not much story here though, speaking in the grand scheme of things, but still very important. There's a level of show, don't tell I like to follow but gods be damned it would have been hard for me to figure out how to explain River of Time's magic and how it worked without some exposition. I hope it didn't feel too unnatural. Regardless about the plot though I wouldn't dream of replacing or omitting this chapter. He might not be a key player but Donnel is still very human and very much a person who deserves some attention. That's the overall hope I have for River of Time. I don't want to just tell Azrynne's or Chrom's story, because this isn't just about them. It's about everyone. Everyone is affected by the war and will be affected by coming events.
Rambling aside, I hope you enjoyed the chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. It's been a long time coming, but it's here. Sorry again for the sparodic update. Hopefully the next one won't be as bad. Remember to review, your words are my driving force!
And one final note - I had a list of about 4 beta readers that I decided on a year ago. Needless to say it's been a year and I think I can safely say that the list is now void. So if anyone wants to beta read for me, please send me a PM.
