Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem Awakening nor any of the canon characters from there. As for any original characters that may show up, any resemblance they may have to others is highly likely coincidental. If not and they happen to reference some other character or fandom on purpose or by accident, I don't own that either! (Also don't own the summary quote, which is from InuYasha.)
Other Notes: In case anyone's wondering about the Risen appearances, I like to think that a lot more arrived in the present with Lucina than just what you fight in that stage. Grima was hell-bent on catching her, after all, since she had the power and knowledge to prevent his resurrection. I also mentioned that Grima's very presence has an impact on the world thanks to being in the physical realm. He might be sealed away, but that's still a hell of a jump from wandering the ether like present-Grima is probably doing.
Also, the expedition through Ylisse's southern villages probably took the Shepherds a good week or two to complete, considering traveling times as well as recovery from battle. Just letting you guys know.
The Wings of Goodbye
Chapter Twelve
"Eve? Did you find the traveler?" Chrom asked the moment that he and the rest of the company were within range.
They caught up to her where she stood at the edge of the forest, unmoving from the moment the boy, Marth, disappeared from view. She had wondered what to say when they eventually found her without the other. Should she have tried harder to keep him there until Chrom arrived? Or was it best to listen to the instinct that told her to let him run and get away?
"I found him, yes, but he went through there not too long ago," she said distantly, gesturing to the space in the woods before her. "He was not in need of assistance."
"You let him run off alone?"
"It was his decision." Glancing back, she saw the way the words struck Chrom; the way he tried to bring up a protest but could not and so let it die in his throat. She looked up again, peering into the darkened path Marth took earlier. "I offered to take him to you, but he refused. He said that if Naga willed it, you would meet again."
"Really?" The prince looked somewhat doubtful. "What did he look like?"
Still staring into the woods, Eve took a moment to reply. "Blue hair. Small figure. He looked young, certainly no older than twenty years. He wore a mask with a strange design that covered half his face, so I cannot tell you his features there…" A thought struck her and she looked down, pensive. "He wore a distinctive outfit."
"Distinctive? In what way?"
"It was reminiscent of an outfit that the Hero-King is depicted wearing in days of yore," she replied in an almost absentminded manner, thoughts flitting to the history books she had read while growing up on the road. "A noble raiment of blue and red… Fitting, that he should call himself Marth." She looked back, then, mind finally returned to the present. "I think you should expect to see him in the near future, Your Highness."
Chrom looked down the path that she had been staring at, contemplative. He gave a slow nod before gesturing for her to join the others as he called for their reports on the skirmish.
Once the village was informed of their successful mission and left with a word of caution to keep an eye out for any more of the undead creatures, the Shepherds moved on. Under Chrom's orders, they marched through the Ylissean countryside, visiting village to village and taking care of whatever problems that plagued them. Sometimes they were met with the usual bandit group, which were summarily dispatched without complaint. Other times, however, they would come across more sightings of the frightful creatures that attacked and killed without discrimination.
Each encounter left Eve feeling less and less at ease. After the third fight to exterminate a group of them, she settled down in her cot in the women's tent and meditated in order to observe the seal that kept Grima subdued within her. It was a simple matter of getting to the seal—she was highly in tune with her magic and so being drawn into her own mind was near child's play—but inspecting it was much more difficult. She had little clue on how to approach the sphere, fearful that one wrong prod would cause it to unravel.
But after a while of watching it from afar, she finally worked up the courage to rest her hand upon it, fingering the smooth archaic lettering that wound around the sphere. It remained solid beneath her fingertips, much to her relief, but she could not help but wonder if there were a way to monitor Grima within.
It was then that the walls of the sphere flickered and Eve jumped back frightfully, terrified that her thought on a whim had brought the prison crashing down. But the sphere returned to dormancy, as if nothing happened. Heart pounding, Eve reached a trembling hand and placed it once more against the smooth sphere.
The white dissolved beneath her hand, though she could still feel the cool texture of the wall. As the white faded, she watched, with no little awe or trepidation, as the fell dragon was unveiled before her, frozen in his magic prison.
He was asleep.
Gently, Eve lifted her hand once more from the sphere, watching as his form disappeared behind a wall of white. As she returned her consciousness to the waking world, she frowned, troubled. She needed answers that possibly only he could provide, but there was no way she would willingly reawaken him in order to gain them. The risk on her psyche was too great.
A terrible corner to have been driven into, if there ever was one.
By the time the Shepherds returned to Ylisstol, they had engaged in no less than seven skirmishes with the undead creatures. Minor scuffles with brigand groups were interspersed between them, along with a rather memorable encounter that earned the Shepherds a new recruit: a young farm boy named Donnel who, despite his simple appearance, was much more adaptable to battle than he first appeared. He was still certainly inexperienced, even more so than Sumia before the expedition began, but Eve felt confident that, with proper training and guidance, he could become an invaluable member of the Shepherds. She made certain to tell the prince as much, half-inclined to believe that, due to Donnel's young age, he would keep the boy from the field as he did with Ricken.
"You think so?" Chrom had asked as the midday sun beat down on them on the return trip. They were only several hours away from Ylisstol by Frederick's reckoning.
Eve nodded. She was walking in the center group, leading Kyanos by his reins as a tired Lissa rode on his back, chatting with Maribelle. "He's sharp. It was his first ever battle, yet he had quick enough wits to hold his own even when we did not have time to look out for him."
The prince turned then to the farm boy, who was chatting happily with Sully and Stahl, looking thoughtful. Looking back at Eve, he asked in a manner that was too casual to actually be real, "Based on your observations, what do you say his training should entail?"
Although somewhat suspicious of his nonchalant behavior, Eve took his question to heart and looked in Donnel's direction as well, green eyes assessing. "His build is not so bad, likely from doing farm work, so he has the strength necessary to continue training with a lance if he so chose… However, given his slighter stature than some of the other men, it would be best to teach him swordsmanship instead. He does not have the flexibility necessary to ever become a master, but he has balance."
Chrom hummed. "That sounds like a good enough place to start." He smiled. "Thanks, Eve."
In the hours that followed, Eve could not help but feel as if she had taken some sort of test.
The Shepherds breezed past Ylisstol, stopping only to stock up on supplies before returning to the garrison as Chrom, Frederick, and Lissa went to visit the exalt. Eve went along with the other soldiers, watching with no little amusement as Donnel was overwhelmed even by the soldier barracks in comparison to his small farming village. The others took it in stride, laughing away his embarrassment with reassurances that just about everyone had similar thoughts upon first arriving to the halidom's capitol.
"Really?" Donnel exclaimed. It seemed he only meant to ask, but his astonishment raised his voice well above the normal level. Many of the other Shepherds still in the room paid it no mind, seeming to take enjoyment out of his genuine emotionality. "All of you? I mean, beggin' yer pardon, but y'all look like you've been here yer whole lives, all decked out in fancy armors and such."
"Well, some of us have lived in Ylisstol for a while," Stahl said. "Sully, for example. And Lady Maribelle, of course. The rest of us came from pretty much all over." The cavalier lifted a hand to rub at his chin as if in contemplation. "My family runs an apothecary in a village a little north of here, for example."
"I lived with my mother and father in a nearby town," Sumia supplied somewhat nervously. Eve noticed that she did not seem to contribute to conversation normally on account of her low self-esteem. It was good to see her trying.
Miriel had apparently worked in a magic research laboratory—or library, it was hard to understand her words at times—before joining the Shepherds. Vaike came from another village after being inspired by the Exalt's words to become a great warrior.
"I lived on a farm, too," spoke a voice. Eve had never heard it before and so she jumped, alarmed, and spun around to confront the sudden presence. She was somewhat stunned when she saw a tall man in heavy, clunking armor take a step back in response. "S-Sorry! I was just… Wait, did you just notice me?"
Warily, Eve glanced back at the others still conversing before looking back. They did not seem to notice anything out of place. She forced herself to relax as she gave a polite bow in greeting. "I don't believe we've met. I am Eve, and you are?"
The man seemed a trifle exasperated as he said, "Actually we sort of have met, but I guess no one saw… as usual…" He mumbled a bit more before sighing, resigned. "I'm Kellam."
Before Eve could reply, Sumia glanced at her, eyes curious. "Eve?"
Distracted, Eve looked up. "Hm?"
Sumia giggled. "Donnel was asking about your story."
"Oh…" Eve turned back to apologize to Kellam and ask for a moment only to start when she saw that the space he previously occupied was empty. She had a mildly disturbing thought that she had either imagined the introduction entirely or that she just spoke with a ghost, but as she thought she heard the distant sound of clanking armor. Deciding to put it off to another time, she shook her head and looked to an expectant Donnel. "I am a traveler. I met the prince and princess on the road and they told me I could join them if I did not have anywhere to go."
It was not the whole truth, but at least it was not an outright lie (perhaps lying by omission, but nothing blatant and damning). Neither Chrom nor Lissa, nor even Frederick, seemed to care to reveal her origins themselves, so she supposed it was up to her. But considering how she did not consider Plegia her home, she did not feel it was necessary. It was only if the Grimleal got involved that she would consider it, but in that case she may just leave entirely to spare them the danger.
"A traveler?" Donnel whistled. "Have you been to many places, Miss Eve?"
Eve nodded even as she wondered at his use of a title. "You could say I've been on the move since I was little. I've been to many places around the continent." Some places much more than once, especially if her one of her mother's informants was in the area, though the visits were always greatly spaced out to avoid recognition and suspicion.
Her mother's informants…
That's right. Before that night, before Grima, her mother had been speaking to her of taking over her web of information. After years of maintaining it and meeting more trustworthy sources, Judith had created quite the network of information. Eve was always with her on the trips, though she only officially started meeting their contacts with Judith recently, and learned much about it in between their travels and training. As Judith had said, Eve could inherit it and continue it if she wished, but Judith herself was content to let it die with her.
On the one hand, Eve was uncertain she could ever fill her mother's shoes in such a way. Judith had charisma and social grace, which Eve lacked. On the other hand, however, as crudely as it had been started, Judith had created a truly stunning web of information. It would be such a waste to let all that knowledge slip away…
That said, speaking of knowledge slipping away—
She shook her head and looked up, waiting for the next lull in conversation to speak. "Donnel."
The farm boy jumped at the unexpected call. "Yes, Miss Eve?"
"When you've finished settling in, I would like to meet you in the training fields if you are agreeable."
Donnel nodded, looking very nervous.
Feeling bad that she spoiled his mood of bright-eyed wonder, she tried to smile reassuringly as she said, "Take your time." But by the looks of his expression, which was still full of uncertainty, she failed. She sighed, bade a small farewell to the Shepherds still in the room, and left to prepare.
It was relatively easy, given that Eve had more or less taken stock of the Shepherds' wares once she got around to seeing them. They were a small army—a faction within the actual Ylissean army. Though they were free to share supplies and often did, according to what she heard from Lissa and Sumia, the Shepherds often kept track of their own gear to use while in Ylisstol. It made things much easier, at any rate, since otherwise they would be forced to either travel back and forth between the Shepherds' garrison and Ylisstol for the army barracks or relocate entirely to a closer building. So, really, Eve could not complain.
Once in the small armory, Eve went about digging up some old armor for Donnel to practice in. She knew his general size from having observed him in the initial battle as well as on the way back to Ylisstol, so she was confident in being able to fit him with appropriate armor. Before long, she had a small pile of worn armor and safety pads used primarily for training in her arms, which she diligently carried to the doors leading to the training field. She set them down neatly on a bench that had been left there from the previous group training session (that had not been there before but mysteriously popped up halfway through—perhaps that Kellam fellow had placed it there?) before returning inside for another trip to the armory. This time, she went about selecting swords, selecting two wooden types of appropriate length and weight and then two with actual blades, if a bit blunted.
By the time she returned to the training field again, Donnel was waiting for her. He appeared lost, though he brightened up when he saw her. He jogged over to help her bring the swords over to the rest of the gear.
"What did you need to see me for, Miss Eve?" he asked as he set the swords down gingerly, leaning them against the bench.
"You could say that I would like to test a theory, or rather put one to action," she said. She held up one of the wooden swords. "Although your work with a lance is quite good for one without combat experience, your body type seems more in line with working with a sword or even an axe. This is no fault of yours—the lance or any polearm can be difficult to work with as there is a certain balance that must be achieved between the weapon's form and its power. You can often end up hitting yourself by accident with the wooden end if you're not careful."
Donnel's face flushed then.
Eve felt her lips twitch with a smile. "I take it that's happened once or twice?"
The boy rubbed the back of his neck, giving an embarrassed laugh. "More like dozens…"
"That's nothing to be ashamed of. We all had trouble starting out." Eve could not particularly recall any similar troubles when she began training, but perhaps she simply knocked the memories out of her head with the attempts. Or they were too embarrassing to remember. Both were valid ideas. "Regardless, while your current choice of weapon is fine, I believe you would be much better off by training with a sword in the long run." She pulled up the other wooden sword, holding it so that the hilt was facing towards Donnel. "Would you like to try?"
The eager expression on his face said it all.
Eve heard the footsteps grow steadily louder in the corridor as she worked, but she paid them no mind, remaining focused on her task. The footsteps came to a stop by the door. "Hm? Eve? You've finished having dinner already?"
"Not exactly," Eve murmured in an absentminded tone. "I've yet to go, actually. I wanted to finish…"
Chrom entered the room and continued walking before stopping by her side, looking curiously over the parchment she was all but scribbling over. "What are…" He paused, and she could just feel how perplexed he was by the short silence that ensued. "Are those training notes?"
"Routines," Eve said. "Ideas and instructions of tactical maneuvers I've seen from engaging battle at my mother's side. You can observe many things from the air, you see, and you could say I made a habit of watching, though much of my observations come naturally to me." She fell silent as she completed one last sentence towards the bottom before setting the quill down and setting the parchment aside to dry by several others like it. "You can read through them when you have the time, Your Highness, and perhaps implement them if you wish. I included notes on possible counters as well, so that the others can know what to do if it is used against them."
Chrom reached out for one of the sheets that had dry ink, looking over the words scrawled there. "You separated them by profession?"
Eve nodded. "It is more organized that way."
He chuckled. "Indeed." He spent a few more minutes looking over the paper, sometimes glancing at the ones left on the table, before finally setting it down. "Well, this makes it a bit easier to ask since I have proof of it all right in front of me!"
Blinking, Eve watched as he pulled a chair out and sat down, facing her. "Sir?"
His strange enthusiasm seemed to deflate at her inquiry and he sent her an odd look. "You know, other than Frederick, you probably call me by titles the most…" he muttered. He waved it off when she blinked at him, however. "Anyway, from our recent expedition, it came to my attention that you have a knack at commands and tactics."
Eve blinked again and then ventured, "I apologize if it seems like I'm undermining your orders…?"
Chrom shook his head. "No, it's not that. Actually, I'm glad you stepped in. A lot of your decisions probably saved them a lot of pain and injuries. Which brings me to my question: would you be willing to take the role of the Shepherds' tactician? While we've been getting by on my orders, there's only so much I know of how to command the soldiers." He gave a sheepish sort of laugh. "I can certainly help with planning, but when it comes down to it, I'm more the type to run into action than methodically think it through…"
Tactician? Surprise dawned on Eve's face at the offer, but she could not help but ask, "Why do you not ask another to appoint, like Sir Frederick?"
"Frederick is a knight. A great knight, and a captain in his own right. But while he may know what to do in his own battles, even he's a bit restricted in knowledge of how others work. But you, I think, can certainly think enough for all of us." Chrom gestured to the sheets of paper. "Having a mind like yours behind the forces could help us greatly. Especially since, as you said, you can observe the battle from above and relay better directions after getting a grasp on the situation."
Despite his earlier self-deprecation, the prince certainly spoke smoothly and logically enough to break Eve's initial thoughts of refusing. The fact that she had, indeed, handed him "proof" before he even asked her was also rather damning.
She sighed. "I suppose I could try…" She looked up and met his eyes, holding back a grimace at the sincere gratitude she found there. "I give my word that I will do my utmost to not guide the Shepherds wrong."
And into death, was what was left unspoken.
Chrom smiled. "I have faith in your abilities, Eve."
Eve frowned, mind recalling the first night she spent in Ylisstol and hearing similar words from his younger sister. "Don't have too much faith." Especially since she was still uncertain of whether or not she would stick around. If the Grimleal caught wind of her location, for instance, she would certainly leave to prevent involving them. Even if it meant being seen as a deserter.
In response, the prince only hummed. "But really, thank you, Eve. Now, since you're finished, you should go and eat dinner while you still can."
"Understood." Eve reached over to shuffle the papers into a neat and orderly pile when he stood, and she was immediately distracted by the sword hanging from his belt. She froze at the familiar sight. "Wait—Captain?"
"Hm?"
"Your sword…" She had heard rumors of the Falchion before, had seen it woven into tapestries or painted in old murals or even inked onto scrolls and history books. It was a famous sword, the fang of Naga, and looked very different from others. If she were right, then she had definitely seen it… "Are there any others like it? Forged into that shape, I mean?"
"The Falchion?" Chrom asked, looking down. When Eve nodded, he appeared to give it some thought before shaking his head. "I don't believe so. I've heard and read about attempts to recreate its shape, but they were never successful or performed poorly in combat." Any others were likely created to be ornamental pieces at best, then, Eve concluded. "Why do you ask?"
Though she was loathe to share something that was only speculation, she answered, "The boy I encountered at the first village, Marth… He seemed to carry something similar. I did not get a good look at it, though, so it might have just been my imagination."
The look on Chrom's face was as skeptical as she felt. The Falchion's design was so incredibly distinctive that mistaking it for any other blade was close to impossible.
"…I suppose if we really do meet again, we'll just have to wait and see," Chrom said finally.
Eve nodded, though her mind was now preoccupied with other things.
During her and Reverie's fight with Grima, Reverie had shouted numerous things in order to get under the fell dragon's skin. Eve had paid them no mind as she had been distracted by more important things at the time. But now she could hear them floating around in her mind, bouncing to and fro and echoing until she had no choice but to listen to them.
Though they never gave any more details, it was clear that Grima's travel to the past had not been done by his own power, but rather Naga's. And Naga had opened the path to the past for another, whom Grima had followed. A single name was mentioned. Lucina.
The boy Eve met was calm and curt, but clearly driven. And he was well-acquainted with the undead creatures.
"I've faced them before. I can handle it," he had said, followed by, "I know what they're capable of."
Neither Eve nor any of the others had ever seen or heard of these creatures until Grima summoned them, even if she was the only one knowledgeable of Grima's involvement. Was it possible that…?
Yes. It certainly was. But she could not make conclusions until she had more information. Her mother taught her that much.
Though a part of her still recoiled oddly at the thought of crossing paths with "Marth" again, she could not help but look forward to this supposed fated meeting, wherever and whenever it would take place. Perhaps it would finally give her at least a few answers that she sought.
