Birth and Re-Death
Chapter 28: Local Best Girl Beats Up a Minor
"Ouch," Frederick says through gritted teeth as I fix up his probably slightly fractured arm. This is the third or fourth time he's fallen today, and not the first time he's broken something, so I can tell he's getting really tired of it. The moment the healing is finished, he follows up with "Thank you, Randall," no doubt to reassure me I'm not the one he's angry with.
"No prob." I turn to Robin and Donnel, our de facto engineer and carpenter, respectively. "Looks like we're going to need to tighten him up a little on the turns. Might cost some flexibility, but that's the price we pay. A fall like that will take him out of the fight pretty much every time unless he's got a healer handy. He doesn't have his legs to break his fall properly, and that puts his arms at greater risk. Plus, in the event that his legs do break and he's on his own, he might not notice as he wouldn't feel it."
Donnel replies, "I was thinkin' the same thing. Lemme snatch up that harness, see if I can't add some side supports." He strolls over to Frederick's horse and unfastens the wooden harness he's been building with Robin's instructions and Stahl and Sully's consultation. Despite the rough early stages, I've been really impressed with Donny's ability to adapt Robin's ideas on the fly and account for changes that need to be made with its design. He heads over the short hill to return to the camp, where we keep our maintenance tools.
"Speed has never been the core of Frederick's fighting ability, so if we have to sacrifice some maneuverability, it's not great, but it's certainly better than anything else," Robin adds. "In any case, Frederick, thank you for your work today. We'll take a break while Donnel makes the necessary adjustments, and we can try again tomorrow."
"Right. Thank you all for your continued help," Frederick replies from where he's sitting in the frosty grass. As Robin and I prepare to help him back onto his horse so he can ride back to the wagon, we receive a pleasant surprise.
"Are you guys finally done?" Lissa's voice calls over the hill. Slowly, her bouncing twintails come into view. Behind her, though, is the real surprise. "Come on, Emm. Easy, just a little farther," Lissa says encouragingly as she leads Emmeryn by the hand up to the top of the hill.
"Wow," Robin whispers as the Exalt crests the hill. Emm looks a little worse for wear, as it's a good hundred and fifty yards or so from the medical wagon to here, but she's still on her feet, which is pretty damn impressive as far as I'm concerned.
"Woohoo! Go Emm!" Lissa shouts, taking her sister's hands and jumping a little. "You did so great, sis!" She throws her arms around Emm's waist and hugs her for a long while. At first Emmeryn doesn't seem sure what to do, but after a moment she returns the hug with an unmistakable smile. "We thought we should come see you guys, see how Frederick is getting on!"
We go to join the pair at the top of the hill. At first Emm seems pretty freaked out by Frederick's massive horse, Imperium, but Lissa leads the way by holding one of Emm's hands and petting Imperium's muzzle with her free hand. The horse snorts happily at Lissa's gentle touch, a noise that makes both sisters giggle. Emmeryn tentatively reaches out and joins her sister in stroking his face.
"Milady, you are coming along further and further every day. It does my heart good to see you recovering so rapidly. You are an inspiration for me to redouble my efforts," Frederick says. He turns his head to me. "Randall, I wish to continue my exercises after all. While Donnel works on my harness, I would like to practice riding without it. If there were an emergency on the battlefield and I could not count on my harness, I don't wish to be rendered totally impotent."
"Are you serious?" I ask incredulously. "We've already been at it for hours. And without the support, you're way more likely to reacquaint your face with the dirt."
"That's why I need you around as well. If I should fall, I'll be counting on you to heal my injuries," he replies simply.
"You know I had other things I wanted to do today, right?"
"I am in your debt!" Frederick cries as he whirls Imperium around and rides off before I can stop him.
I sigh and turn to the girls. "That fucker. Well, I guess I know what I'm doing until dinner."
Robin laughs unabashedly. "Hey, at least he's having fun. I think all that falling was getting to him until now."
"That guy wouldn't know fun if it bit him in the ass," I reply, my sullen edge already rapidly dulling. No point getting mad when I'm already irreparably stuck with this.
"No Randy, I think Robin's right. He's making the most out of his situation. Plus, I think recovering alongside Emm is doing him a lot of good. I remember how scary he looked before he learned you and Maribelle saved her," Lissa says. "No doubt in my mind, that guy would still be in the wagon today."
Emmeryn sniffles noticeably with a shiver.
"Anyway, I don't know about you, Lissa, but I'm pretty cold, so I think I'm gonna warm up in the command wagon," Robin says, smirking at me as she starts crunching through the frost back to the campsite. "I'll try and save you a cup of tea, Randall."
I flip her off. Even if it doesn't translate as well here, I'm sure she gets what I mean.
"Yeah, I'd better get Emm back too, Randy. Um… sorry!" Lissa says as she starts leading her sister back down the hill.
"Alright. See you later," I reply, trying for Emm's sake not to sound as irritated as I am. I wave to her as she follows Lissa, and I'm encouraged when she waves back.
I turn back to the other side of the hill, where Frederick has already fallen and has his leg caught in one of his stirrups. Great.
I shiver as a breeze passes through.
Libra agreed pretty much straight away to show me the ropes at Ward magic. Honestly, I figured he would; he just seems like that kind of guy. He has me meet him by a small campfire he's made near his tent after we stop for the day one evening in Northern Plegia.
"Thanks again for agreeing to give me some tips, Libra. Even if healing is pretty much second nature to me by now, there's still a ton I don't know," I say as we both get out our Ward staves.
"It's my pleasure, I assure you," Libra replies. "It was always my dream to be a teacher, you know."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yes. When this war is over, I intend to found an orphanage for those left without parents or guardians as a result of the violence. I hope I can show the youth of our land the love, guidance, and instruction that they may otherwise lack." He gets this sort of misty look in his eyes. "When I think about the innocent youth left with nothing as a result of this fighting, it just about brings me to tears. Forgive me," he says, blinking heavily and patting his cheeks to calm down.
"You don't have to apologize! I totally get it! I think your dream is fantastic. Honestly, I don't really know what I have in mind for after the war." I realize as I say this how true it actually is. There's going to be a whole two year space between this conflict and the next one. What the hell am I going to do with myself? "Having a goal in mind is awesome. I envy that."
"Well, if you wanted… no, I oughtn't ask that," Libra stops himself.
"What is it?" I press him.
"It's just, if you truly have no other plan for what to do with yourself, I'm sure I will be in need of all the help I can get. If you would like to join me, I would be happy to have you along," he says earnestly, leaning forward as he speaks. His eyes are just about sparkling in the firelight. This is a side of him I'm not used to.
"Oh. Uh… wow. I have to say I'm surprised you want me on board. You barely know me, after all," I stammer.
"I may not have known you for long, but I can tell we have a great deal in common, Randall. And of course, you needn't give me an answer right away. It's just something to keep in mind down the line, I suppose," he replies.
I take a breath. I was not expecting this staff lesson to turn into a job offer. "Alrighty, cool. I guess I should say thanks for believing in me that much."
"Thank you for considering it," Libra says. He holds up his staff. "Now, shall we begin?"
"Oh, yeah." I get my staff ready as well.
"Now, there are several ways to create a successful Ward, depending on what one wishes to accomplish. An armor Ward, as I like to call them, wraps around a person and renders them much less susceptible to magical damage, while a wall Ward stretches across an entire group but only guards in one direction. The latter is much more taxing on a user, so it should not be used in drawn-out battles," he explains, illustrating with his hands the difference between clothing someone in a Ward and making a Ward sheet. "We saw this tactic used in the battle at Lake Medeus. It's no wonder that healer went down in one shot when you got to him. He must have been quite exhausted by then. I think they anticipated a quick resolution to the battle with that pincer tactic."
"Good to know. So what's my focus as I create a Ward?" I ask.
"Somehow, I suspect this will be the easy part for you. Where a healing staff is usually motivated by compassion and caring, a Ward staff is fueled by the desire to protect. The user must have a clear sense of danger, as well as the intention to act as a shield from that danger. It's important to keep in mind, too, that every magical attack that hits your Ward will tax your spiritual energy. Certainly preferable to your ally coming to harm, but in other words, you can't hold up even an armor Ward for terribly long if the threat is great," Libra says.
"So in other words, that healer at Lake Medeus was actually really good at his job?" I ask.
Libra nods. "In a sense. In Plegia, where healers are rare, their talents can get them a quite handsome salary in the Plegian military. It pushes Plegian healers to improve their endurance, since they're usually the sole healer in their detachments. They might not be the most effective healers, but they can usually keep it up for a great deal longer than the average Ylissean."
"You're pretty well-informed on this stuff," I comment.
"I should hope so. I've studied the art of healing and different philosophies on the subject for just about my entire adult life, after all. In any case, we should begin. Now since I don't want to waste magical resources to generate attacks for you to defend against, for now the campfire itself should work just fine."
"I'm sorry, what? The campfire?"
"Oh yes. Fire is fire, after all, whether generated from a rune or from a burning tree. For that reason, the campfire will serve as a low-risk test of your ability to hold up an armor Ward." He slips off his outer robes, leaving only his black long-sleeved undershirt and white pants. "I am going to stand in the bonfire while you hold up your Ward, and if I don't get burned, you will have succeeded. Agreeable?"
"Why does learning any kind of magic always involve my teachers getting thrashed to shit?" I ask.
"Because learning is pain. As is teaching, I suppose. You can never get something for nothing. And someday, when you're the one teaching someone else to use a staff, I expect you'll understand what I mean," Libra says simply. "Now, cast the Ward, if you'd please."
Well, it's not difficult to picture what I want. If he's going to step into that fire, then I want to keep him from getting burned. And I've been burnt at enough Scout campouts too have a pretty good idea of what danger I'm protecting him from. Simple enough. I raise the staff and will its magic to encircle Libra. Even though I couldn't usually see Wards when it was someone else casting them, I'm surprised to find that I can very plainly see the bright blue light streaming from the orb and covering Libra like water. That's trippy.
"I think it's ready," I half-ask.
"Let's see." Libra strides confidently on top of the fire.
Sure enough, I start to feel the effects of the fire. While the Ward was pretty easy to keep up before, now I can feel it slowly draining me of my strength. It's not like I'm feeling the heat of the fire myself, but more like the Ward magic is transforming the damage that the fire would cause into exertion being taken out on me. When he moves to the middle of the fire (totally messing up the little tipi of wood that he had structured, by the way), the drain increases in intensity, and after a good thirty seconds or so I'm definitely feeling it. Even so, his clothes aren't catching fire, and it doesn't look like he's in any pain. Libra was right: this does seem to come naturally to me.
Eventually, he steps out of the fire with a satisfied 'hmph,' and I lower the Ward. The light slides down his body fluidly and dissipates into the chilly night air. I'm breathing a little heavily, but overall feel pretty much alright.
"As expected. Very well done, Randall. Let's stop for today. It may not feel like we've done much, but you accomplished a good deal and I don't want to tax the staff too much," Libra says, giving me a pat on the shoulder. "I didn't doubt for a moment Wards would come easily for you. Of course, more practice will be necessary before I can confidently say you're ready to use it effectively in combat. However, it should be quite soon, because unlike with, say, Rescue magic or," he coughs, "dark magic, there is no direct negative consequence if you underperform or lose control. It will just mean that you'll have more healing to do if your allies get hurt because of a thin Ward. It's better in your hands than it would be gathering dust in the medical supply wagon. And of course, you'll get better with time at using it."
That makes me smile. A low-stakes magic that I can use without feeling like I'm holding a moody bomb. Robin was right the other day; I really have been needing something like this.
"Thanks again for helping me, Libra," I say. "But why were you so sure I'd be good at this?"
"To be honest, you're at a stage where real instruction isn't usually necessary. As you get better with staff magic in general, more and more types of it will become easy to understand and pick up quickly. And if you don't mind my saying so, I think we are probably quite similar in spirit. I may have been projecting a bit, but I had faith that you would understand Wards as easily as I did when I first picked up a Ward staff. Call it a hunch, I suppose," he says.
Suddenly, a voice calls from behind me, "Randall! There you are! I've been looking for you for ages. What are you doing?" Tharja punctuates her irritated question with a sneeze. I guess she's never been in weather this cold before.
"I'm learning how to use Ward staves, why?" I reply.
"Because I've been waiting on you to start our dark magic practice for today, obviously," she growls.
"Oh, right. Hang on, I thought we were taking a break on that for a while."
"We have been. For almost a week now. But Robin told me to make sure you're learning consistently, and taking this long of a break won't do. So we have to get back to it." She sneezes again. "Tomorrow, we have to get back to it. The sun's already going down, and I don't want to think about how much colder it can get at night, and how that will feel with decayed skin."
"Yeah, again, it's really weird that no one knows a way to practice magic that doesn't tear people apart."
Libra speaks up, "I'm afraid you're just unlucky in that regard. Anima magic can be practiced with inanimate dummies with no problem. But Tharja is correct that dark magic's success cannot really be measured without animate flesh to practice on."
"Couldn't I, like, practice on a large steak or something?" I ask.
Libra shrugs. "You probably could, but it would be a waste of food. At least we can heal people. You can't heal a steak once it's decayed."
Tharja scowls. "You sure know more about dark magic than I'd expect for a Naga priest."
Libra smiles good-naturedly in response. "When you've healed as many dark magic injuries as I have, you learn a thing or two. Oh, I almost forgot. Randall, I still have your Flux tome." He ducks into his tent for a moment and emerges with the tome, holding it sort of at arm's length. "My apologies for the delay in getting it back to you."
I take it and stow it in my robes. "Thanks. Honestly, I'd kinda forgotten you had it."
"You didn't even know where your tome was?" Tharja asks. "I don't even know why I'm bothering teaching you."
"Oh yes, that reminds me, Tharja," Libra says. "I wanted to ask if you would be alright with me sitting in and observing Randall's training tomorrow."
"Why would you want to do that?" she asks in an annoyed monotone.
"I'm curious about how Plegians teach dark magic. I've seen formally trained mages in the field before, of course, but I've never seen the process of training them. I'm curious how it works."
"As long as you stay quiet and stay out of my way, I guess there isn't a problem," she replies eventually.
He turns to me. "Do you have any objection, Randall?"
"Uh, no, of course not. Go for it," I say. I wonder if his being there will change my mental state or affect my training somehow. If anything, though, I'd say training with him has been a damn sight nicer than with Tharja.
She sneezes again. "Fine. I'm going back to my tent to try and warm up. I will see you tomorrow, Randall, so don't try and back out. You've been babied plenty." She skulks off.
"Yeah, night Tharja," I say exasperatedly.
"So, that's your dark magic teacher?" Libra asks, unable to hide the sarcastic edge in his question.
I shrug. "She's as good as we've got. Miriel has at best a theoretical grasp on it, Ricken can't even use it, and Robin, whether she can use dark magic or not, hasn't ever tried, so she's behind me in that regard. It's been, I'll say less than pleasant, but it's better than trying to go it alone I guess."
"I'm curious to see what her method is like. I'll be looking forward to seeing that tomorrow," Libra replies.
"Trust me, it's nothing pretty."
The Traveler sighs. "And here there was such nice anger on the wind for a while. Anger's the stuff of change, you know, Valli. But now everyone's getting calmed down as they head north. Retreating away from the interesting stuff and, ugh, regrouping. Boring, boring, boring. And it takes foreeeever."
"My lord, I must admit I am at a loss. It seems to me you know exactly where the Shepherds are and even what they are doing. Why haven't you destroyed them?" Validar asks.
The Traveler is silent for a long moment. "Validar," they say in a dangerously low tone, "have you been listening to a SINGLE thing I've been saying?"
"M-my lord, I do try, but you're quite difficult to understand at times, if I am being honest," Validar stammers.
"No, I'm not," the Traveler says sharply. "In fact, it's the EASIEST thing I can think of to understand. Some things in this world are interesting, and some things are boring. That's all that matters. I. Like. Interesting things. And I hate boring ones. What's difficult about that?"
"It's just, I don't understand what the goal of our planning is anymore, my lo–"
"Goal? Are you LISTENING to yourself? Validar, if I had a concrete goal, and then I met it, that would be IT. I'd have to find a new goal, and then another one, and so on. But you absolute brainlets in the Grimleal had it in your minds that I would want to, what, destroy the world? How BORING would it be if there were literally NOTHING? No battles to watch, no lives to tamper with, no relationships to watch build up and break down, nothing. Why on earth would an eternal, ageless being want that? You incredible moron."
"I-I beg your forgiveness, my lord." Validar is downright shaking in fear and shame.
"So here's how it works, Valli. In the world I'm building, there's ONE sin: to be boring, dull, or static, or predictable. To be boring is to be a waste. Got it?"
Validar takes a deep breath. "I am doing my best to understand, my lord. It's just that this is such a departure from all the Grimleal scriptu–"
"You know what, Validar? Get over here. Right in front of me," the Traveler commands suddenly.
"Yes, my lord." Validar stands dutifully before his master. Being told what to do is much easier than being told what to think.
"Hands and knees, right now, on the floor."
"Yes, my lord." Validar prostrates himself on the ground without hesitation.
"Now I am going to use my magic and blast your head off. You ready?" the Traveler says, gathering some magic in their fingers.
"M-my lord?"
"You gonna question me, Validar? Gonna disobey a direct order from me? I know I've got a bad habit of speaking cryptically sometimes, but I'd like to think I'm getting better lately. Is my order confusing to you? Are you lost somewhere?"
"N-no my lord, it's just that I don't under–"
"You don't have to understand, Validar. You're my servant, right? You'll do what I say, when I say, without question."
Validar stares at the ground in front of the Traveler's feet. "Of course. I hear and obey, my lord."
"On the count of three. Ready?"
"Y-yes, my lord."
"One." The magic crackles loudly. "Two." The sound gets closer to Validar's head. "Three."
An incredibly loud blast echoes in Validar's ears as the ground right in front of his head is blasted deeply, creating a twelve-inch-diameter crater in the stone. While Validar felt some of his hair get caught in the blast, he is totally unharmed.
"...My lord?" he half-whispers as the ringing in his ears starts to subside.
After a few seconds, the Traveler speaks. "For FUCK'S sake, Validar. You really weren't paying attention at all. What could be more boring than just laying down your life because your master, eh, felt like killing you? There wasn't a reason, wasn't a logic to it, just wanted to maybe kill you. And you ROLLED with it. Why?"
"I, um, it's not my place to question the machinations of the divine, is–"
"It is ABSOLUTELY your place to question something like that. You didn't even flinch. I sensed not a single iota of intent to move out of the way. You were literally just going to sit there and let me kill you. Validar, I have some bad medical news for you. You are terminally boring."
"M-my lord, I apologize. If I had known that it was your wish that I would disobey–"
"Then it wouldn't have been disobeying, you vacuous moron. I wanted to see if you would do something, ANYTHING, that wouldn't either irritate me or bore me to tears. You failed utterly, and even now it seems like you don't get it."
Validar is speechless. "I… I…"
Their tone changes. It is no longer angry or fiery, but cold and distant. "You committed the great sin, Validar. And your punishment will be that this world will forget you. I have already washed my hands of you as of this moment." The Traveler stands up straight and starts walking away.
Listening outside the chamber, her head pressed up against the door, Aversa shrinks back as she hears footsteps approaching.
"My lord, please don't abandon your servant. I may not be as… entertaining as you should like, but perhaps I could learn to–"
"If you were ever going to learn it, it wouldn't be from me. Now go take a bath, you smell disgusting. And have a nice life." The Traveler opens the door to Validar's chamber and slams it shut behind them.
And so Validar, denied the one thing that has given his life purpose until now, remains sitting on the stone floor, staring at the crater left behind by the spell that sealed his abandonment.
Aversa sits outside, wondering whether she should or even wants to come in to comfort him.
"Come on! Your spells are incredibly weak today! Where's that fire in your eyes that we saw at Lake Medeus?" Tharja chastises.
"Hopefully it stays there, actually," I shoot back. "I'm not a fan of the idea of losing my grip like that again." I try not to look at Libra, remembering with shame that he had to essentially confiscate my tome to get me to regain control.
"You haven't learned to embrace these emotions, and that's why they stay foreign to you. Until you let your primal side in, dark magic will always feel like a stranger to you," she replies.
"You know that's kind of the opposite of what I want, right?" I ask.
"No, it's not. You want to learn dark magic. This is how it's done. Unless you've been wasting my time until now, this is exactly what you want. Guidance for how to make that tome kill people when you need it to." She points at the Flux tome sitting idly in my hands.
"Is there no way to do that without losing my grip on my emotions?"
"For the purposes of maximizing your magical ability, no, there isn't."
For the first time since we started, Libra speaks up. "You know, I hate to interrupt, but that's not exactly true."
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"What are you going on about?" Tharja asks, much more unkindly.
"There is a means by which you can make effective use of dark magic tomes without succumbing to your base instincts. It's not easy, of course, but it can be done with patience and diligence," Libra says.
"Well hell, if that's true, I want that one!" I reply.
"What would you know about this anyway, priest?" Tharja demands.
"To tell you the truth, I was not completely honest with you yesterday when I said I was familiar with dark magic because I've healed its injuries so many times. That is true, but my familiarity with the subject comes from more direct experience. You see, I am a dark mage myself, and I was at one time a very well practiced one."
That's right! I remember now, Libra can reclass to a dark mage or sorcerer as well. So that's real-life-canon after all, then.
"Is that so? And pray tell, how does this method of your work?" Tharja asks condescendingly.
"You see, in spending as much time with dark magic tomes as I have, I've learned the way that they respond to their users. It's easy to think that they respond to emotion, but that isn't precisely correct. They respond to the physiological markers of emotion."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Tharja asks.
"When you grow angry, for example, your heart rate increases. Breathing becomes heavier, people tend to sweat more, things like that. The tome is not looking to see if you are angry. It is reading whether your body is communicating anger."
"I think I'm starting to understand," I say. "So if you can trick a tome into thinking you're, say, envious or jealous, you can use a Nosferatu tome whether or not you really feel it?"
"Exactly. However, it sounds easy when you word it like that, but in truth it is extremely difficult. Dark magic tomes are meticulous devices, and they read the body very well. It takes significant focus, control, and self-awareness to feign such emotions competently."
"Can you show me how it's done?" I ask.
"I can do my best. However, much of your progress will be dependent on what makes your body uniquely tick. I will not be able to help with such specific matters; I will merely be able to provide guidance," Libra replies.
"Awesome. That's more than I had hoped for." If this is really a valid option, this could be the answer to all my worries. I don't care how hard he says it will be, I want to dive into this right away.
"Well where does that leave this?" Tharja asks, gesturing to the area around her. "Are you just dropping my tutelage just like that?"
Before I can say anything (like "hell yes" for example), Libra speaks up. "Of course not, Tharja, and I hope you can forgive me if I gave the impression that what you are teaching is unimportant. You have done much to help him get in touch with some of these more aggressive emotions, which will be necessary in the future if he is to understand them sufficiently enough to emulate them. I am merely providing a method by which the things he learns from you can be applied without taxing his mental or spiritual health."
"Are you questioning the quality of my mental or spiritual health, priest?" Tharja asks.
"Yes," Libra replies.
A beat of silence.
"That's fair. I don't like sharing a student with some Naga-loving treehugger, but like I said before, as long as you stay out of my way, I don't care what you do," Tharja says.
"In that case, we will begin my supplementary lessons on meditation and emotional control quite soon, Randall. But first, I want to spend some time observing your training as it is, so that I can get a better idea of you and your emotional profile before we start picking apart its physiology. Assuming you are still willing to learn, of course," Libra says, turning to me.
"Oh, I'm absolutely on board. This is a massive load off my mind, Libra. You have no idea," I say gratefully.
"I think I may have some idea, actually," Libra replies.
We reach the Feroxi border without any further violence, which is a relief on many levels. Of course, we don't want to fight anyone we don't have to, but doubly so when it's this goddamn cold out.
By the way, it really is cold out. I had taken for granted that the last time I was in Ferox it was late summer, so it was actually the Feroxi warm season when I was freezing my ass off on the way down to Golgotha. I am no longer taking that for granted. Snow piles up on the roads in ways that I can barely imagine, pampered 21st century commuter that I was. Progress north slows to an unbearable crawl, leading a lot of the Shepherds to question why we aren't just diverting east and taking the fastest possible route back to Ylisse. I'm among those Shepherds.
"Because we aren't the only force in this alliance, and we are by far the smaller one. I don't know if this is clear to everybody, but between Ylisse and Ferox there is a definite disbalance of power, tipped very heavily in Ferox's favor. When Basilio or especially Flavia asks us to do anything, we almost always aren't in a position to refuse them. We're just lucky they've been nice about it so far. Both of the khans want to regroup in Ný Von, and that's what we're doing," Robin explains to me one day after I voice our complaints on behalf of the Shepherds ("Robin'll listen to you way more than she'll listen to us!" Vaike said, joined with vehement nodding from Sumia, Gaius, Stahl, and Nowi).
"Are we still going to go to Ylisstol first after we regroup?" I ask.
"I mean, 'first' is a strong word. I'm sure we'll meet plenty of resistance along the way. But it'll definitely be our top priority once the khans are satisfied that the border is secure." Robin rubs her face idly. She looks pretty beat, I notice now, with dark eyes and a lethargically sunken mouth.
"Hey, you alright? You seem a little out of it," I say.
She sighs. "Yeah, I'm good. I'm just thinking about a lot lately, plus my dreams keep getting really weird."
Well, that's not an unfamiliar sentiment. "Weird dreams?" I ask.
"It's nothing to worry about. Just been really realistic and kinda unnerving is all."
"Unnerving how?"
"Like they're always about the same guy. And I swear he seems familiar, but I can't place it. Anyway, he's always stressed and always on edge, but it was nothing compared to last night. He was… I dunno, I don't really feel like thinking about it," she says with a sigh.
I wonder if that's about Validar. Should I say something? Probably not. I don't think I've ever even met the guy, now that I think about it. "Alright. Well, try and get as much sleep as you can while we're safe in Ferox. I think we've both still got a lot of rest to catch up on," I reply.
"Sounds nice. Maybe I could actually do it for once. We're not planning any more battles until the khans have, ugh, 'regrouped' to their satisfaction. In truth, I agree with the Shepherds. It would make much more sense to divert east now and strike while the iron's hot. But now both sides will be clashing at their full strength, and I'm afraid it's going to mean a lot more bloodshed. I guess the khans are at liberty to do with their military as they please, but it's going to make the task of keeping every Shepherd safe a lot tougher for you and me."
"Well hell, Robin. We already invaded the capital of Plegia and lived to tell the tale, didn't we? I'd say we've endured worse odds than this before," I say in an attempt to encourage her. "It wasn't very fun to have all those runs in a row, but we proved we can beat an unwinnable situation."
"Gods. Eight runs. I never want to have to do that again," Robin sighs.
"Hopefully we won't have to. The Shepherds are getting stronger all the time, and you and I are getting better at directing them. We just gotta keep our momentum going. Which means the biggest thing is probably just keeping our heads on straight."
"Easier said than done, I don't doubt," she replies.
"No kidding."
A moment of preemptively tired silence passes.
"Oh yeah! Speaking of keeping our sanity, I meant to tell you! Libra says he's got a method of using dark magic that involves tricking the tomes into thinking you're feeling those negative emotions without actually having to mean it. We're going to start practicing it soon. He's been observing my sessions with Tharja since before we crossed the border, so he says he's got a good idea of how my emotions come out."
Her eyes, though still weary, light up with joy. "Really? That's great! Honestly, I could hardly be more pleased, Randall. I do want you to get stronger to the greatest possible extent, but I hated the idea of you having to dive deep into the worst of human emotion to do it. That's one less thing for me to lose sleep over if it works."
"You've been losing sleep worrying about me?" I ask, half-teasingly and half-earnestly. I don't like the idea of someone else worrying too much over me. I already had plenty of that with Maribelle.
"Well, not just you. Don't get too excited there," she replies smugly. "But yeah. It wasn't sitting well with me that we might have to lose the Randall that we've come to know and mostly tolerate just to make a better asset out of you. If there's another method, I want you pursuing it."
"You and me both, Robin. I'll let you know how it goes."
Aventine, despite the comfortable furnishings of his room and the more pleasant climate of Ylisse, finds he can't get to sleep. His mind constantly races with the myriad possibilities that could come about at this point, and few of them look good. It's all gone so wrong. But even so, not all hope is lost just yet. If Mustafa could just find a way to escape the country, and the Shepherds could gain the upper hand or at least even the odds somehow, their plan could get its momentum back.
He isn't sure which sounds more unlikely.
Aventine gives up on sleep for now and rises from his bed, shuffling out into the hallway and into a leisure room a few doors down. Duke Osprey really is too wealthy for his own good, he thinks.
His breath catches in surprise when he sees a person sitting in a chair near the back corner of the room. However, he's relieved to see it's only Mustafa's wife Octavia.
"You too, Lord Aventine?" Octavia asks, her voice raw and strained. "I only got Mikkel to sleep about twenty minutes ago. Don't tell me I need to put you to bed as well."
Aventine laughs politely. "No, there's no need for that. How is the boy? I haven't had much opportunity to look in after him, what with all the adjustments I've needed to make with the duke." He sits on an ornate sofa opposite her.
"He's too smart," she says with a faint, sad smile. "He understands what's going on more than I would like. When I told him Mustafa was going to meet us here, I think he heard the lie in my voice. I heard him ask Captain Phila if he was ever going to see his papa again. She gave a soldier's answer, as if that's any surprise, saying, 'I know your father will do his duty, no matter the cost. He will do everything he can to see you again, but keeping you and your mother and your country safe comes first.' I'll never forget what he said next." She takes a breath to steady herself. "He said, 'Papa's going to die, isn't he? Please don't lie.' What else could Phila say? She said, 'We will be very fortunate if he doesn't.'"
"Another generation of children, brought up in an age of war and tragedy. This is what we wanted to avoid," Aventine says somberly, bowing his head slightly. "And leave it to Phila not to blunt the impact much."
"Better that than if he had asked Henry, I suppose," Octavia replies with a bitter chuckle. "I had hoped to bring my boy up in a world without war. I suppose I wanted to feed him that fantasy a little longer. But he's too sharp to fall for it. Takes after his father too much."
"Octavia…" Aventine says, unsure what words could possibly bring this woman comfort in a situation like this.
"What are we going to do now, Aventine? If Gangrel crushes the Ylisseans and gains control over both countries, what's our plan? We don't have many friends in Ferox, and even fewer resources at our disposal. Did you and my husband account for something like this?" She looks at him a little desperately, her eyes wide. He can barely meet her gaze.
"Admittedly, we never planned for something this dramatic. The sacrifice of Exalt Emmeryn has many implications, most of which we can't know yet. Report after report comes in, each filled only with rumors and conjecture, and much of it seems conflicting. Some say the Exalt is dead, while others insist she's alive. Some suggest that her sacrifice has taken the fire out of the Plegian military's spirit, where others believe little has changed. Exalt Emmeryn certainly stirred things up with that daring move of hers, no matter what the ultimate result is. We will just have to wait and see where the pieces fall, I fear."
"And if the worst should happen? If Gangrel takes total hegemony?"
Aventine closes his eyes for a moment, reminiscing. "When Mustafa and I first formed our plan, it was only us two against the entirety of the Plegian and Ylissean governments. We have been a much smaller, more subversive group than this before, and if need be, perhaps we may be forced to become so again."
"What if Mustafa is captured? What if he is made to give up the names of our allies? Their locations?" Her tone rises with each proceeding question.
"I don't like to think on it, but the Mustafa I know would go to his grave in a thousand pieces before he would give up those to whom he has sworn loyalty. There are many things to be concerned about, but I believe that is not one of them," Aventine replies in a more soothing tone.
Octavia takes a measured breath through her nose to calm herself. "You're right, Aventine. I can at least trust that my husband would never give up his family. I'm sorry for bothering you with this when I'm sure there's already so much on your mind."
Aventine manages a smile. "There's no need to apologize. To be honest, I am merely hanging on by a thread myself, I feel. I never imagined we would be forced to do this without him, even for a while. Things do look bleak, even to me."
"Is there no hope for them to turn it around? The Shepherds, I mean. Even if Mustafa manages to make his way to us, can we provide enough aid to balance this conflict? The sides seem totally mismatched, but for Ferox's strength backing them. And even then, if the Ylissean-Feroxi alliance prevails, how do we know the Feroxi won't just annex Ylisse and become our new greatest enemy?"
"You're right to worry about that as well. There is little that looks as though it is going in Ylisse's favor at the moment. They are counting on the goodwill of their new allies too much, I think. Unless the Shepherds are mind readers and know for sure that they will not be betrayed…" He stops himself. There was one among the Shepherds who seemed to know too much. Things he shouldn't know. "Anyway, I hope their advisors are using reliable sources. Otherwise we might see the rise of a new threat in the same shape as the old."
"Reliable sources, hm? Do we have anyone in the Shepherds?"
Aventine shakes his head. "It's always been such a small, tight-knit group. Trying to win any of them over has always seemed a fool's errand, devoted as they all are to Prince Chrom. Lately though, they've been recruiting at a high rate, so it's possible we could get our foot in the door somehow. Perhaps Captain Phila might have an idea on that front."
"I hope so. I want to feel as though we're doing something, making progress somehow. We've been stymied for so long in the wake of Gangrel's mad warmongering…" Octavia replies.
"Sometimes it's difficult to believe that when we started, the Exalt and the king were equally threatening presences. Emmeryn was certainly an unexpected change of pace. She actually believed in peace, and even as a child was so determined to make it happen. That was why I couldn't follow through with our plan back then." Aventine's eyes grow distant, lost in memories and regrets and what-ifs.
"None of us begrudged you your moment of compassion back then, nor do we now. Surely you know that, Aventine," Octavia says kindly, reaching over and gently patting his hand to bring him back to earth.
"I know… I know. For an old man like me, it's easy to get caught up in the past. I wonder what could have been just as much as what could still be, I find." As Octavia looks at him now, the toll that the years of the stress of quiet rebellion has taken on Aventine appears more obvious. She wonders how many sleepless nights like this he has endured over the years. She decides to join him for this one, though she feels she makes a poor substitute for all that he's lost.
"Ah, excellent, you're here, Randall," Cordelia says as I trudge through the snow to the small clearing where she and Donnel are, by the looks of it, impaling each other for fun. "I was just going to use some of this vulnerary, but now we can save it."
"Chrom told me you guys were going to need a healer when he saw you leaving camp. I can see he wasn't kidding," I say, taking in the sight of the bloodstained snow surrounding Donnel, who is currently sitting on the ground, nursing a sliced arm. Various other spare lances, some wood-tipped and some 'live,' are kinda strewn about, suggesting they've already been at this for a little while.
"C-Chrom did?" Cordelia asks, reddening beyond what the wind and cold already have done.
As I get my staff ready to patch Donny up, I say, "Yeah. His exact words were 'I've seen what happens when Cordelia gets serious about training. You'll want at least one fresh staff on hand.'" I smirk inwardly as Cordelia squirms in embarrassment.
"Well, I always do my best possible work! I don't see anything wrong with that!" she protests, fists locked at her sides.
I raise the palm of my free hand in a 'don't shoot the messenger' gesture. "Hey, I agree. And bonus, you're keeping me in practice too." With that, Donnel is put together again.
"Thanks a bundle, Randall," Donny says as he gets to his feet. "And I agree too! It may be tougher than week-and-a-half-old bread to train with ya, Cordelia, but I've already learned so much!" he adds encouragingly.
She smiles gratefully, basking for a moment in the praise of her student. "In truth, the reason I push you so hard is because you've always taken it in stride. I'm amazed at how quickly you've come into your own, Donnel."
Ladies and gentlemen: Aptitude.
Now it's Donnel's turn to redden. "Aw, that's awful kind off you to say, but I'd be nowhere without you." Quite the mutual admiration society they've got going here.
"My my, aren't the sparks flying?" I ask with an innocent grin.
Cordelia glares at me embarrassedly. "Only if you mean the sparks of metal on metal, Randall." She turns to her student sharply. "Donnel, if you're feeling well, let's get right back to it."
"Right!" Donny replies dutifully, readying his lance on command. Seems like he's used to her temperament.
She's right, by the way: Donnel has improved a great deal in a short time. As they get back to sparring, it's evident that Cordelia is the better fighter, but not by much. Though Cordelia has trained relentlessly for probably at least a decade to get to this level, Donnel seems to be close to catching up after only a few months of instruction. He parries most of her jabs with ease and is quick to attempt counterattacks. She in turn deftly ducks and sidesteps most of his attacks, but the strain on her face is evident. Chrom's prediction proves true as well; I frequently need to step in and close up minor slices and gashes so that they can continue safely.
After a couple minutes, Cordelia has Donnel at bladepoint again, but she's breathing heavily and, despite the cold, has definitely broken a sweat. She's won, but she definitely had to earn it. The next three sessions go similarly, with Donnel losing not due to exhaustion but simply being outmaneuvered at critical moments. Each time, it seems like Cordelia is only winning by a thread.
As she lowers her blade after their last session, Donnel lets out a whoop of joy as I heal up his bruises. "Hoo boy, Cordelia. I almost thought I had ya a couple times, but every time I thought I had it in the bag, whoop, ya dodged outta the way, just like that! I gotta learn how to do that!"
Cordelia, meanwhile, appears to be in a less jovial mood. She's still catching her breath as she replies, "On the contrary, Donnel, I'm afraid I'm going to run out of things to teach you soon. You really did come very close a few times to winning. And," she pauses to take a couple full breaths, "as you can see, you wore me out pretty thoroughly. I might spend a great deal of time practicing, but it's clear I don't have the endurance that you do."
"Aw, you're too nice, Cordelia," Donnel says with a smile. "I'm sure there's plenty more for ya to show me. You're just bein' modest."
"We'll see. In any case, let's call it a day for now, Donnel. Thank you as always for your hard work," Cordelia says, starting to gather her lances and other materials off the ground.
"Can I help you carry your stuff?" Donnel asks.
She waves a hand dismissively. "No, no, it's fine. You've earned a proper rest."
He hesitates for a moment, then shrugs. "Alrighty. Thanks boss! You're the best!" He jogs off, seemingly just as unfatigued as he was when I arrived. God damn, that kid is scary.
As Donny leaves, I don't waste any more time healing the few bruises Cordelia earned in their sparring. "Kid's a one-man army, huh?" I remark nonchalantly.
She snatches up another lance off the ground as if it had offended her. "Yes, he certainly is."
I raise a brow. "Something wrong?"
"No, of course not," she snaps as she picks up the lance Donnel was using. "He's coming along remarkably well. I'm glad to have the chance to teach such an adept student."
I think I get it. "Cordelia, are you jealous of him?" I ask as I start gathering up the healing supplies she had set aside in case of an emergency. Always prepared, huh?
"Jealous? Why should I be? We're allies, after all. And for that matter, I'm his teacher. What does a teacher need to be jealous of her student for?"
I take on a more frank tone. "You know why. He's not gonna be your student for much longer, is he? He's gonna get to the point where there'll be nothing about combat that you can teach him that he won't be able to do at least as well as you already."
"That's nothing to be jealous about, though. He and I share a goal of protecting our friends. I want him to be as good a soldier as he can possibly be, regardless of if that means he will surpass me." She finds it difficult to meet my eye.
"Sure, we all want that. But it's okay to be a little pissed off that he just gets this stuff, you know? He joined the Shepherds, what, a few months ago? Barely after I did. And he's already one of our best ground troops by far. Where you've been working since forever to get where you are, and it seems like he's taking a shortcut."
She bends over to pick up the last lance, only to slip and drop the bundle already in her hands. She allows herself to fall with a snowy whump onto her knees. "I just don't get how he does it! The techniques that took weeks, even months of work for me to master, and he'll get them in an afternoon or two! It's superhuman!" she finally exclaims. I walk over to her and start helping assemble the fallen lances.
"And you can't even really get mad, cuz he's such a good kid, so it's not like he's arrogant or anything about it," I add, trying to encourage her to let off some of the steam she's clearly been building up.
"Exactly! He's so nice, and humble, and he works so hard, and aside from his sometimes crude mannerisms, there's not a lot to critique. He's not just a model student; he's even more of a model student than I was! I mean, um…" she falters, embarrassed to have talked herself up that way. "Not that I–"
"Okay, let's be real. You were a model student. No need to be modest with me, I can already tell that's how it must've been," I interrupt.
"W-well… yeah, that's pretty much true," she admits. Finally, I can hear a small smile behind her words. "But still! He might be young yet, but he'll be the best warrior in Ylisse in less than a year at this rate!"
"Maybe. But if he ever gets there, it'll be because he had a teacher like you to pick him up off the ground. He might learn quickly, but that doesn't mean anything if there's no one to teach him. Of course he works hard, but you can allow yourself to take some credit for his successes too," I say as we start walking back to the weapon supply wagon to drop off the lances.
"I guess so. And that's what he's always saying, but I guess… I don't know, from him, it just sounded like he was just being overly modest. More of his model student behavior," she replies. "And thank you. You didn't have to stay behind just to patch up my wounded pride on top of my bruises."
"I'd argue it's all part and parcel, really. Doesn't matter if someone's physically healthy if they've got a lot of shit going on up here, right?" I point to my temple. "My job is making sure people are okay, that's all. So, are you okay?"
"I think I'm… better. I'll say better for now. It's not easy to watch my years of work get reduced down to a few months by someone younger than me, but that's just how it will be, and I'll need to get over it," she says. We arrive at the wagon and stow the lances in their respective crates.
"And hell, it's not like you're not improving as well. As long as you're better than you were yesterday, that's already good enough in my book," I say as we hop out of the wagon.
"I'd modify that to 'markedly better,' but I understand your point, Randall." She runs a hand through her hair. Her pretty, bright red hair that contrasts sharply with the white and green of this snowy forest path. My stomach leaps a little. I just realized I've been alone this whole time with Cordelia, essentially acting as equal parts confidant and cheerleader. Are we that good of friends already? I guess we did mutually save each other's lives in the past couple months. Even so, it's pretty exciting to have my unironic waifu consider me her friend.
I shake my head a little. Get a grip there, boyo. Last thing you need is another Maribelle incident.
"Well, I'm cold as hell, so I'm gonna see when soup's on and then sit by the fire for a while. What's on your plate for the night now?" I say, trying to distract myself a bit and maybe excuse myself so I can get my head on right.
"Hm… now that I think about it, there isn't really much of anything left for me to do today. If you don't mind, I'll accompany you. Food and fire sounds nice right now," Cordelia says with a million dollar smile.
"Of course! I'd be happy to spend more time with you and hopefully get to know you better!" is what I want to say.
"Uhh, sure," is what I manage, nearly choking on my tongue.
Help me.
Alright, it's cool. You're good. Just focus on the stew for now. Don't overthink things like you are literally right now as you say this to yourself. Just act the way you were before.
"So Randall, you said you were a wandering traveler before you joined the Shepherds, right? Do you have any experience with northern winters like this?" Cordelia asks between bites.
God damn is she sitting close. I understand it's for warmth's sake, and that everyone is sitting close to one another in a circle, but it's still hard to think about much else.
"Oh, well, sorta. Not with Ferox in particular, but I've seen my share of snowy mountains. Used to go every year or so," I reply when I remember that a conversation requires that you actually talk.
"Every year? What prompted the annual trip?" Cordelia asks.
I can't very well talk about spring break skiing trips with the family, can I? "I'm like a bird. I fly south for winter, then back north for the summer," I say eventually.
She snorts. "Good to know. Any tips for staying warm, Bird-Man?"
"Layers. Especially wind-breaking ones. And I guess we're already doing this, but keeping close to as many people as possible preserves warmth by sharing it across bodies rather than letting the wind take it," I reply.
"I was gonna say, Randy," Lissa says suddenly from the right side of me, "you're pretty warm to sit next to. It's kinda nice." She rubs her shoulder against mine, but then ruins the moment a bit when she snorts some snot back into her nose. Classy.
"Wipe that runny nose of yours on my robes and I'll stuff snow down the back of your coat," I say warningly.
"It's not my fault I can't – *SNIFF* – feel my nose!" Lissa protests. "I was just saying something nice, anyway." Lon'qu beside her wordlessly holds out a handkerchief in front of her face. "Thanks Lon'qu," she says as she takes it, then wakes the entire forest with her foghorn nose-blowing. "Why is Ferox so coooold?" she moans.
"Bah," Gregor says from the other side of the fire, "is nothing. You wait for end of year, come visit Gregor home village. Then we talk about cold."
"No thanks," Lissa says with a resolute sniff.
I feel Cordelia shift to my left. "She's right, though. You are quite warm."
Suddenly my stew is really interesting to look at.
"O-oh, well, I do my best I guess?" I laugh nervously.
I feel Lissa's elbow in my side. "Well, well, looks like even the untouchable Randy can get flustered sometimes! I wonder if I should be offended that I haven't been deemed cute enough to get the same reaction." She giggles when I give her a look equal parts irritated and pleading for help. But then she notices something past my shoulder. "Oh! Hey Maribelle! Come join us, it's a lot warmer sitting with everyone!"
I turn my head and, true to her word, there's Maribelle, decked out in a big, fluffy white fur coat. She flashes me a small, polite smile before addressing Lissa. "I think I will. This cold is just too much! I've no idea how the Feroxi handle this for a full half of every year!" She wedges herself between Panne (who by the way seems to be handling this weather comparatively very well) and Sully.
Look, it's not like it's her fault, because she didn't do anything, but her presence here is definitely making the scene slightly uncomfortable. I feel Cordelia subtly shift away from me and lean into Stahl on her left as best she can without being obvious. I notice a few Shepherds very pointedly not looking at either of us. Maribelle looks like she can't relax, just sort of fidgeting as she sits there.
I feel bad. I feel like I did this to her. It's not fair that her just walking into the group should get this kind of response. I need to fix this somehow, if I can.
This all feels annoyingly high school-esque.
"So, how does everyone else pass the time when we're on the march?" I ask. "I know we aren't in as sociable a mood when the weather is this taxing, but there must be some methods y'all have to keep sane out here."
Lissa, angel that she is, pounces on the chance to have a normal talk. "I dunno about you guys that don't have bodyguards, but I usually just bother Lon'qu if I'm not bothering Emm. He's not the best conversationalist, but I think I can mostly read his expression to see what he's thinking these days." Lon'qu scowls as Lissa grins.
"Oh yeah? And what is he usually thinking?" Stahl asks.
"Hmm…" She puts on her best Travis Willingham impression. "'Stop standing so close to me, woman,' most of the time." That gets a good laugh out of everyone. Even Lon'qu's frown cracks a bit.
"Gregor usually have flask of the good stuff on hand. Is good for keeping warm, and is good for making march less… marchy," Gregor says, brandishing his flask. "Never in bad mood when you have good stuff in you."
"What do you keep in there, anyway?" Sully asks.
"Is a secret. Gregor cannot tell," he replies.
"I usually pass the time thinking about all the food I'm going to make when we get back to Ylisstol. Getting back to an actually stocked kitchen will be the best," Stahl says wistfully.
"I listen for predators. It's amazing we don't attract any, with all the noise you humans make," Panne says.
"I'm usually so focused on not falling over into the snow that I can't really pass the time doing anything else," Sumia half-moans. Poor girl.
"As long as I'm walking behind a beautiful woman, I need nothing else to pass the time," Virion says, earning a shove from Sully that ousts him from the circle. He doesn't find his way back in and is forced to become a one-man second row. I wish I could feel bad for him.
"You know," Gaius chimes in, "used to be I'd just suck on a candy and sulk when my old outfit was moving between towns, wasn't a lot of talking among us. But it's been a lot nicer with you all. Most of the time I can find someone to have a good laugh with, and even when I can't, I just… I dunno, it's been good." He stares at the fire. "I know we're at war and all, but in a way, I don't know if I've ever been this happy."
"Aw, Gaius," Sumia and Lissa say together. Sumia nestles a little closer to him.
"Gregor feel same way," Gregor says. "This group is very nice. Even when fighting get bad, I know my friends do not even think to leave Gregor. Old group would have left Gregor for dead if even a little dangerous to save me."
"That's what makes us different," a voice from outside the circle says. As he steps closer to the firelight, Chrom's face becomes visible. "We never leave behind a comrade, no matter what. That's what makes the Shepherds who we are." The circle makes space for him to sit between Gregor and Gaius.
Virion lets out a little 'Ah' of a whimper, protesting that he hasn't been let back in.
I feel Cordelia squirm a little as Chrom gets settled. Slightly wounded pride aside, it is a little cute.
I realize I haven't heard from the one person I most want to make sure gets included. "Maribelle, what do you do?" I ask.
She looks a little surprised to be called out particularly like that. She reddens a little as she answers, "Well, when I'm not making sure everyone is safe and not taking any damage from the cold, and when I'm not also keeping Exalt Emmeryn company with Lissa, I will admit I occasionally indulge in singing to myself."
Gaius jumps back in. "Oh yeah! I do that too! Sometimes it's songs from my home town or whatever, but lately I like practicing those songs Bear taught us!"
Now it's my turn to redden a little. "Yeah?"
"Sure! I might not keep a flask on me like Greg here, but sometimes a nice drinking song can at least remind me of a warm night of drinking with my new buddies."
"Well, I'm, uh, flattered. Thanks, Gaius," I stammer. I had no idea those goofy songs meant that much to anyone, even him.
"Oh hey! As long as a lot of us are here, wanna teach us another one? We can wake up the whole forest!" Gaius suggests.
Oh jeez. I wasn't expecting that either.
"Yeah!" Lissa nudges me. "Come on, it'll be fun!"
"Uh, are you sure?" I ask. How many songs do I even know that sound good without instruments?
"Do it! Do it!" Gaius starts semi-chanting, so I put a stop to that before it gets out of hand.
"Fine, fine. Lemme think… Okay, what about this:
Some people call me the space cowboy, yeah.
Some call me the gangster of love..."
And so it was that the world of Awakening got acquainted with the Steve Miller Band. Cordelia might never have sat as close to me as she did before Maribelle arrived, but all things considered, I'm just glad we could dispel some of that discomfort, at least for a night. Everyone goes to bed warm, smelling of bonfire smoke and with a song firmly wedged in their brains.
After what feels like a several-week-long slog of chiseling through several-foot-deep snow, we finally arrive again in Ný Von. At least, I'm pretty sure it's Ný Von. It's just as snowed-in as the rest of the country, with the exception of narrow pathways having been carved out on the roads, just barely wide enough to accommodate our wagons. Little footpaths to the door of each building have also been dug out, but it doesn't diminish the feeling of moderate claustrophobia as we navigate the city's winding paths toward the khan's palace.
The palace itself has been pretty well cleared of snow, the one building in the city that's been cared for so thoroughly. The stone pillars that hold up the southern pavilion are currently adorned with burgundy banners with a golden eagle perched on a gold wreath embroidered into them. I am led to believe this is Flavia's family crest, and for the duration of her tenure as the supreme khan, these banners will be hung around the city. It's a pretty slick look, contrasted with all this white snow.
Anyway, it's a lot nicer to be seeing all this from the slightly warmer interior of the command wagon. Getting to hang out here is undoubtedly the best thing about becoming a tactician alongside Robin.
If only the company were as pleasant.
"Sooo~" Robin says, sliding over to stand beside me as we watch the snowy rooftops go by, "I didn't join you guys last night because I just wanted to go to sleep early, but I saw you and Cordelia sitting together by the fire, all snuggled up. Was it romaaantic?"
I scowl. "Hardly. With the group it's fine, but when I'm with just her, I can't relax. Same thing as what happened with Maribelle. I'm totally fine until I decide I maybe like someone, and only then do I lose the ability to form sentences around them."
"So you do like her then?"
"I mean, I always have. Have you seen her?" I look down at Robin beside me.
She shrugs. "That's fair. She's got a lot going for her."
I look back out the window. "But no, I wouldn't even say I like her more than I always have. It's more like, once I realized she was willing to spend time with me even when it wasn't somehow necessary for training or healing or whatever, that was when it hit me how much I don't know how to talk to girls."
"You talk to me just fine," she says.
"Do with that knowledge what you will," I reply.
She frowns. "Rude. Anyway, so it's not so much that you like her that bothers you, as much as not knowing to what extent she might like you?"
"That sounds reasonable. Let's go with that."
"If you want, I can put you two in battle together more often. Worked well enough for Kellam and Miriel, Sully and Vaike, and now a few other budding relationships. It wouldn't be hard to make that pair work in the field," she offers nonchalantly.
I cock an eyebrow. "Sounds like an abuse of power to me. You really have been matchmaking all these couples, haven't you?"
She grins, looking outside. "All I do is read the room and give the right people a nudge in the right direction. They're doing all the heavy lifting."
"Right. Anyway, it's not like I mean anything serious by it so far. It's just that the moment the possibility enters my head, I lose my cool. It's something I realized was technically possible, that's all. I don't want to profess my undying love or anything," I reply.
"If you say so. If you change your mind, you can let me know I guess. In any case, I should make some adjustments to my chart…" She slinks back over to the table to bust out her relationship chart.
"Whatcha writing?" I ask, but as I approach she snatches the chart off the table and turns her shoulder to me.
"You've already compromised the data once by looking at it! I won't let you jeopardize it further," she half-growls.
"Fine, fine. Write your diary by yourself–"
"It's not a diary!"
"–but do it quickly; I think we're just about at the palace now."
As I finish saying this, the wagon slows to a halt as the caravan pulls up to the khan's palace. While the group rushes to get the essential supplies out of the wagons and into the palace before we freeze our asses off, I notice Flavia and Basilio standing together outside the pavilion, flexing and stretching and looking just a little bit too comfortable with these arctic conditions. Meanwhile, I hope we can get this 'regrouping' over with quickly, because I'm already ready to get the hell out of here.
Why doesn't any country ever have just normal weather?
A/N: Greetings from the land of the rising sun! My semester abroad is well underway, and that means I may or may not be an even busier fella than usual. I'm hoping to keep my updates consistent, but if they prove inconsistent, at least now you know why. I hope you guys liked this one! I'm not a huge fan of filling the space between major locations, but on the other hand, that is technically how the Shepherds would be spending the vast majority of their time: traveling. I hope I at least kept it dynamic enough to stay engaged!
Wouldn't be an author's note without a shoutout or two, so here's thanking my pre-readers Mixed Valence and NotTheArchitect for the pointers on this chapter. MV has some fun, climactic stuff with Earthborne planned quite soon, so make sure you're caught up with him! And NotTheArchitect, while much newer to the site, has been putting a lot of effort into his homebrew D&D story The Divine Age, so if fantasy worlds with funky religious stuff and unusual magic rules and sassy protagonists are your thing (and if you've read this far, I know you like at least one of those uwu), check him out as well! And now here is your Mixed Valence out of context quote of the week: "OBLIVIOUS DUMBASSES."
So, I feel comfortable making the call on the results of the cover idea/popularity poll. In an overwhelming plurality, Robin came in first (only six people DIDN'T vote for her), followed by Maribelle, Chrom, Lucina, and the Traveler. One very encouraging thing for me was that even though a lot of options were only included in the poll as kind of a formality and/or meme, even so, over half of the characters got at least one vote. To me that means that I'm at least doing a decent job at doing these characters justice, which is probably in my top two or three concerns when writing this story. So thanks to all who voiced their opinion, and I'm still looking for an artist who can maybe help me follow through on this idea. In any case, it was nice to see which characters you guys think are working.
As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!
