The Long Way Back

Chapter 1

Welcome to Ram Village

Henry was confused. Why was he confused? Quite simple, really. First of all, his bed was not so lumpy. Unless, somehow, his sheets wadded up beneath him during a fitful night's sleep, his mattress never felt this. For that matter, why was there a crunching noise beneath his head? Every time he rolled over, a crackling noise raced through his ears, driving him nuts and further waking him up.

God, did I fall asleep eating something? He groaned as he rolled onto his back, more crackling serving as an unpleasant alarm.

Henry's eyes cracked open. He expected to see the ceiling fan he usually awoke to twirling over his bed, providing meager airflow during the warm North Carolina summer. What he saw instead was a thatched roof with a few thick, wooden beams crisscrossing the ceiling.

At first, he did not register the difference. Sleep wanted to claim him, and he was tempted to let it. Maybe five more minutes and the world wouldn't look so strange. He was about to drift off again when someone clearing their throat forced his eyes wide open.

Panic shot through his heart. Someone's in my room!

He bolted upright, sitting rigid as he sucked in a deep breath, ready to scream in order to startle the intruder. Any scream got caught in his throat when he spotted the source of his sudden anxiety.

An old man in full, plate armor sat on a small chair across the room, facing Henry. Thick, gray locks of hair swept over his brow and flowed over his head; rather impressive given the number of lines creasing over his brow and around the corners of his mouth and eyes. A thick mustache, the same color as the hair atop his head, adorned his upper lip. But, what caught Henry's attention the most, other than the armor, was the large sword resting over the old man's armored lap.

The blade shimmered in the sunlight that filtered through a small, squat window. Both edges of the blade looked sharp. The old man ran a hand along the flat of the blade, his stern eyes giving Henry an unblinking glare.

"Uh…" Henry gulped.

He glanced around him again, finally registering that he was not in his room. What kind of room was this anyway? Where were the carpeted floors? How come the wooden planks beneath the furniture look so uneven and rough? And, the most pressing matter, why was an old man in what looked like full cosplay attire glaring at him!?

"You're finally awake, outsider," The old man grunted, his hand stopping coming to a stop near the hilt of his blade. Henry noticed an oiled rag in that hand. The old man was polishing the sword.

Henry gulped. The old man's glare was piercing. Almost like he was staring through Henry's soul, searching for some sort of hidden, malicious intent. The longer Henry remained dumbfounded and silent, the deeper the frown on the old man's lips became.

"Are you going to speak?" The old man asked, voice rumbling with authority. "Or, are you incapable of speech?"

Henry swallowed hard. "I-I can talk," he stammered, voice squeaking out in a whisper.

The old man's expression did not soften. Instead, he grew more suspicious. It was enough to make Henry want to sink further into the straw mattress and hide beneath the scratchy blanket covering him.

A heavy breath left the old man's lips. He grasped his sword, nearly making Henry's heart stop due to fear, then sheathed it and rose to his feet.

"What's your name, boy?"

Henry blinked. "My name?"

"Yes. You have one, don't you?"

It was difficult to meet the old man's gaze. There was such sharpness in those aged eyes that it made Henry feel small. The strangeness and anxiety of this entire situation stole any logical thought process from him. One trembling hand reached up and ran through his tousled, brown hair.

"Um… my name um…"

"Well?" The old man grunted. "Do you always fumble over your words like this?"

Henry jumped in his seat. "N-no, I just- um- where am I, and who are you?"

The old man frowned. "You may call me Sir Mycen. As for where you are: you're in Ram Village. Now, that's all you're going to learn until you cough up a name, boy."

He spat that last word with such harshness that it caused Henry to finally blurt out a complete sentence.

"My name is Henry!" He exclaimed, fear washing over him. "Yeah, Henry, er- Sir Mycen, sir."

"Henry, hm?" Sir Mycen folded his arms. The frown lessened again. Every little bit of information seemed to ingratiate Henry a little more to the armored man. Maybe he wasn't such a threat after all?

"So, Henry," Mycen took one menacing step towards the small bed Henry sat in, "what is your reason for being in Ram village? I warn you, before you answer, if what I hear is less than satisfactory…" He did not finish the sentence, instead choosing to tap the pommel of his sword.

Henry's throat tightened.

"Do you understand?" Sir Mycen asked.

Henry nodded.

"Good," Sir Mycen kept his hand on his sword. "Go on now. Let's hear how you came here."

Henry's mouth felt dry. He gave his surroundings another quick look, then he glanced out the nearby window. Outside, he did not see Charlotte, North Carolina, with its vast city sprawl and winding highways chock full of traffic. Instead, he saw a small medieval village. Huts with thatched roofs and wooden frames lined, dusty, dirty roads that could barely be considered well maintained. A few people in old, patched-up clothes wandered through the main road, going about their day-to-day lives.

"Your focus shouldn't be out there," Mycen said, interrupting Henry's investigation. "I expect an answer now."

Henry gulped. Ram Village… Ram Village… it did not ring a bell. Where the hell was Ram Village? For that matter, how did he get here? The last thing Henry remembered was lying down for bed, dreading having to wake up for the next day. Not because he expected anything bad to happen, that's just how he approached most days when it came to work and classes.

So, how did he go from his bed to a medieval times theme park?

"Would it be a bad answer to say: I have no idea?" Henry asked, voice rising as Mycen's brow furrowed. "B-because that's the honest to goodness truth. One moment I was going to bed in my own home, the next I wake up and see you staring at me. Perhaps you owe me a bit of an explanation."

"Oh?"

Henry mustered up a small amount of courage. Not a lot. Maybe enough to weigh the same as a penny. But, at that moment, it was something.

"Yeah," Henry nodded. "Did you kidnap me or something? What kind of circus is this place?"

"My home is not a circus, even if those two boys Tobin and Gray try their best to make it one," Mycen sternly replied, his voice dropping low as he said the names of two people Henry never heard of before. Sir Mycen's icy gaze remained on Henry, studying him. "Hm… I don't see the tell-tale signs of a liar. So, either you're quite the storyteller, or you are ignorant of your circumstances."

Henry's mouth fell open. "Uh, we'll go with the latter."

Mycen uttered a heavy sigh. The frown on his lips fell away, replaced with a weariness that came with constant vigilance. The old man sank into his chair again, both hands falling onto the armrests. That caused Henry to relax a little bit. At least he wasn't ready to yank his sword out at a moment's notice anymore.

"So, where do you hail from, Henry?"

"Hail from?" Henry replied, not picking up on the question for a split second. "O-oh! You mean, where am I from. Well," A nervous chuckle left his lips as he scratched the back of his head. "I don't suppose you know the way to Charlotte do you?"

Mycen arched an eyebrow. "Charlotte? Never heard of her."

"It's not a her!" Henry exclaimed. "It's a place. A city, actually. My home is there."

"And I've never heard of such a place either." Mycen's heavy brow furrowed again. "What nonsense are you blathering boy?"

"Oh for crying out loud." Henry ran a hand over his face. "North Carolina then? Where exactly is this place in relation to North Carolina?" Mycen said nothing, and a sinking feeling settled in Henry's gut. "The South?" Nothing. "The United States of America?"

"You are speaking nonsense," Mycen sighed, arms folding over his broad, armored chest. "You may not be a threat, as I first assumed, but it appears you are addled."

"Addled?"

Mycen nodded. "Most certainly. As for all those places you told me; unless you can provide proof of their existence, then they simply do not exist."

Proof!? How am I supposed to provide proof of an entire country? What do I- Henry's racing mind ground to a halt. He resisted the urge to smack himself as he registered the familiar feeling of his phone in his pocket. Proof!

His sudden movement made Mycen tense in his seat. Henry froze at that point, one hand halfway into his pocket. He uttered a sheepish laugh, then carefully withdrew his phone. Mycen gave the small, rectangular object a puzzled look.

"Proof!" Henry proclaimed, tapping the home button, causing the screen to wink to life. Mycen's eyes widened. "Alright, what's the wi-fi password? A quick google and-" Henry stopped rambling. He stared at his phone screen, dumbfounded.

Zero bars. No service. Nothing. No way to contact his family, his friends, even the authorities.

What sort of cult commune have I ended up in?

"A little magical thing is hardly proof of anything, Henry," Mycen grumbled.

"It's not magic, it's science. And it is called an iPhone," Henry replied. He glanced at the battery. Fifty percent left. Not a lot. He'd have to use it sparingly. This may be his only way of finding his way home. "It is a way I can communicate with people where I'm from."

"So, a scrying device?"

Henry snorted and bowed his head. "Where the hell am I?"

"I already told you. You are in-"

"I know, mister," Henry uttered a heavy sigh as he pocked his phone again. "I know." He drew in a deep breath and gave Mycen a weary look. "Alright, look, I can tell you don't want me around here. I don't want to be here either. I've got a life to get back to, classes to attend, work to bitch about. So, how about you point me in the direction where I can find my way home, yeah?"

Mycen arched an eyebrow. His mustache twitched above his lip as he gave Henry an unreadable look.

"If you're looking for information about your home, Charlotte, then you'll want to head for Zofia's capital."

Henry tilted his head. Zofia? What place was that? Was it one of those Asian or Central American countries he could never keep track of in high school? Probably not. It didn't ring a bell for him.

"Okay, that's a start," Henry nodded. "So, where am I going, and how am I getting there? Is there a car I can borrow? Maybe a taxi?"

Again, Mycen gave him a nearly imperceptible, puzzled look. "What in the Earth Mother's name are you talking about?"

Henry now wanted to tear his hair out. Now, not only was he mildly afraid, he was getting irritated. "Fine, how about a bus?" Again, nothing. "Horse?"

"If you think I'm lending you a horse, you have another thing coming," Mycen replied, voice sharp and forcing Henry to shrink.

Wow, this guy is committed to his role, isn't he?

"Fine, I guess I'll walk till I hit some sort of civilization other than this place," Henry swung his legs out from the bed. He was still wearing his shoes. Who wears shoes to bed? He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he got to his feet. "What direction am I walking?"

Mycen inclined his chin, regarding Henry now with inquisitive curiosity instead of stern suspicion. "If you're so determined, you'll want to head Northeast from here, following the road. But, you probably shouldn't be going."

"Oh, I'll be going," Henry huffed. He marched towards the door. "There's no way in hell I'm sticking around here to be a part of whatever act you have going on. Like I said: places to go, people to see, stuff to do. You know how it goes."

To Henry's surprise, Mycen uttered a quiet chuckle. The old man shifted in his seat, leaning back a little as he relaxed.

"You sound like the other youths in this village. All of them are so eager to go see the world, even if they can't even comprehend the dangers it holds." Mycen turned his head to look at Henry, keeping the young man from grasping the doorknob with a simple stare. "If you go as you are, you'll be killed. Bandits will waylay you, take whatever possessions you have, and leave your corpse for the vultures and scavengers."

Henry almost laughed in the guy's face. Almost. But, Mycen spoke those words with such grave seriousness that it gave Henry pause. Was this old man putting on act? There's no way someone could be this committed to a bit for this long without slipping up.

Where am I?

"Alright." Henry's throat bobbed. His hand fell away from the doorknob to the small house. "Say I believe you. What do you think I should do?"

Mycen nodded his head. "That is the most intelligent thing you've said all morning." With a groan and a small roll of his right shoulder, the armored man rose from his seat and marched to the door. "Come along. The pigs need some slop. You may stay if you help."

Henry blinked. "Pigs?"

Mycen opened the door then glanced over his shoulder. "If you're going to remain, then you're going to pull your weight, boy. Pigs need slop. Then, we can go find Gray and Tobin at the stables. Now, come. I'll show you how to handle the pigs."

With that, Mycen marched out, leaving Henry gawking at his back from the door.

What in the… Henry shook his head as he looked outside, noticing that the little medieval village extended all around him. There were no tourists, no visitor's center, and certainly no gift shop. This was an honest to goodness village from the middle-ages.

"Boy!" Mycen snapped, causing Henry to jerk to attention. "You've got work to do."

Henry gulped. Work to do… in a medieval village.

This is what I get for going to bed early.


Henry's legs did not want to move. They already felt like lead, trudging along the ground, barely able to function. When Sir Mycen mentioned the pigs needed slop, Henry thought he might just be helping the old guy pour some crap into a trough. He did not expect that he also had to corral over a dozen hogs into a pen.

Stupid pigs are damn slippery. I swear he oiled them first. Henry glanced ahead at Mycen as the armored man led him towards a small, stone wall that surrounded the little village.

As they walked, Henry did not miss the curious, suspicious glares sent his way by the few villagers that lived here. Although, he did not blame them. While all of the villagers were wearing roughspun shirts, patchwork pants, and maybe a shred or two of nice linen, he wore clothes that weren't just higher quality, but completely outlandish to them. He doubted any of them had ever seen a pair of jeans before, let alone a scrap of denim.

But, they all averted their glances whenever Mycen spotted them looking. The old guy commanded an enormous amount of respect in the town. A part of Henry wondered if the villagers were afraid of him, but when he spotted some grateful smiles directed towards Mycen, he knew that wasn't the case. The villagers liked the old man. They just knew not to stick their noses in his business.

A sharp whinny hit Henry's ears, making him hesitate behind Mycen.

Ahead of them, sitting near a small gap in the village walls, which Henry assumed was a gate, stood a small stable. Three or four horses stood in stalls inside of the stable. Dirty straw covered the floors in the stalls. Beside the stalls, two young men leaned against pitchforks, chatting away.

One of the young men, a pale fellow with neatly combed brown hair and wearing the same, dull roughspun as his fellow villagers (although it did have a splash of yellow) spotted Mycen and jumped. He jammed an elbow into the ribs of his tanner companion, who hissed and raised a fist to punch back.

"The hell, Tobin!?"

"Gray, look busy," Tobin hissed.

"I see you two are doing your jobs well today," Sir Mycen grunted, causing both boys to stiffen. Tobin snapped to attention, but Gray sighed and adjusted the green headband that kept his dark hair out of his eyes.

"How's it going, Sir Mycen?"

Mycen said nothing. Gray gave the old man a nervous grin.

"Same as usual then. Good to know," Gray then nodded at Henry. "Who's the stranger?"

"You can't just go around calling people strange, Gray," Tobin muttered. His eyes flicked to Henry as well. "Who's the newcomer?"

Gray snorted. "How do you know he's new around here?"

"I swear to the Earth Mother, Gray-"

"Enough, you two," Mycen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he suppressed some fatherly irritation. He gestured at Henry. "This is Henry. He will be staying here until the roads to the capital become safer. Which means he will be pulling his weight around here. Show him how to tend to the horses. And," he gave the two guys a pointed look, "don't make him do all of your work. Understood?"

"Understood, Sir Mycen," Tobin and Gray said together.

"Good men." Mycen glanced at the stalls. "They need mucking still. Get to it."

Before Mycen could turn away, Gray called to him.

"Sir Mycen, do y'know where Alm went?"

Mycen paused. A brief flicker of worry shot over his aged features, surprising Henry. "What do you mean?"

"Gray…" Tobin sighed. "It's nothing, sir. Alm's probably doing rounds around the walls, making sure everything's in order like he usually does. Kliff and Faye might be with him too, right Gray?"

Gray blinked, not picking up on the inflection in Tobin's tone right away. When he did, he jumped and nodded.

"O-oh, right. Definitely," he cleared his throat. "Guess I sorta forgot about that."

Suspicion mixed with Mycen's worry. Henry couldn't help but raise his brow. Was Mycen's constant state of existence suspicion? The guy didn't seem to trust anyone.

"Get to work. I'm sure your families will want you home for lunch."

"Right, sir!" Tobin nodded. He waved a hand at Gray. "You start on the right? I'll start on the left?"

"I guess that means Henry takes the middle?" Gray asked.

"No, we don't have a third pitchfork." Tobin flashed Henry a mischievous grin. One that made Henry gulp. "Henry gets the cart."

Henry gave the pair a puzzled look. "The cart?"

"Oh right," Gray uttered an impish chuckle. "Forgot about the cart."

Henry knew he was going to regret asking, but he felt like he had to. After all, everyone around here expected him to work, at least for today. Better to know what exactly he had to do rather than discover it on his own.

"So, what's the cart?"


The cart, as it turns out, was exactly what Gray and Tobin said it was: a cart. It was what sat in the cart that made the object so foreboding.

Mucking out stalls is dirty work, as Henry discovered. Old straw needed to be removed with the pitchforks. Often the straw was loaded with mud, dirt, and horse crap. While it should not have been a surprise to Henry, it still shocked him when he was told that none of the straw could stay near the horses. It had to be loaded in the cart and taken outside of the village to a dump pile near the edge of the forest beyond the walls.

Simple enough work, except the cart was heavy and it reeked. For Henry, both of those things resulted in terrible, awful, sweaty work.

The first two loads almost resulted in him puking up what little remained in his gut from the previous day. By the third load, his arms burned, his legs could barely move, and his shirt was soaked with sweat. When the fourth load came, Henry felt like he was dying.

How much shit can a horse crap out? A ragged gasp slipped from Henry's lips as she trudged back through the opening that passed for a gate in Ram's walls. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a flash of green hair atop the lone watchtower overlooking the road into the village. But, he did not linger to investigate.

There's more crap to haul.

With a groan, he reached the stables, only to find Tobin and Gray leaning against their dirty pitchforks, chatting again. When they spotted him, both gave him wide grins.

"Well then, that should do it," Gray remarked.

Henry gave him a look of disbelief. "That's all?"

Tobin nodded. "Yup. We already put new straw down, but that should do the trick for now. It's nearly lunchtime. Care to join us?"

Henry's jaw fell open. It wasn't even past lunchtime yet? He already felt like he was going to die, but there was still at least half a day's work left?

He hung his head, leaned against the cart, and groaned. Both Gray and Tobin laughed. Gray marched to Henry and smacked a calloused hand against his back, causing a weak cough to puff from Henry's lungs.

"Ain't never done farm work before, huh? What kind of privileged life were you living before Mycen found ya?"

"A bit of a personal question, don't you think, Gray?" Tobin remarked. "But seriously, where are you from, Henry?"

Henry uttered a weak moan as he raised his head and stumbled back from the cart. Muscles he didn't even know he had felt stiff and sore. If he flopped onto a bed, right now, he would be out like a light. Meanwhile, Gray and Tobin looked like they hardly broke a sweat.

I'm not cut out for this.

"I'm…" Henry gasped in another deep breath, "from Charlotte."

Gray arched an eyebrow. "What village is that? You ever heard of Charlotte, Tobin?"

Tobin shook his head. "Nope. As far as I know, there isn't a place called that in Zofia."

Gray eyes widened. "Wait," His gaze slowly turned to Henry, "Are you Rigellian?"

Henry gave Gray a puzzled look. "What is that? Sounds like a terrible antacid."

"Ant-what?" Tobin remarked. He hooked a hand beneath Henry's right shoulder, helping him stand upright so they could start walking into the heart of the village.

"You don't know about the Rigel?" Gray tilted his head. "You really are strange, ain't ya?'

Henry snorted, weary and exasperated at this entire situation. Mycen wasn't the only one who had no idea where Charlotte, a major US city, was. Great.

"Treat me like the village idiot and explain things slowly, please," Henry muttered. He wiped some sweat from his brow as he trudged a couple of paces behind the more energetic duo.

Gray laughed out loud while Tobin chuckled. Henry, to his shock, found himself laughing as well. Although, he wasn't sure if it was due to amusement, exasperation, or frustration. Perhaps it was a mix of all three that caused him to finally crack and giggle?

Maybe I've gone insane. That would explain all of this, right?

"Whatever you say," Gray said with a shrug, his chuckles dying as he led Tobin and Henry towards a small house with a large, picnic table outside of it. A small family busied themselves around the table, bringing out wooden bowls filled with steaming soup.

Henry's stomach growled when he smelled the food. Both Tobin and Gray paused, giving him amused looks.

"Haven't eaten today?" Tobin asked.

"Mycen had you do all that work without feeding ya?" Gray questioned. "I mean, I knew the drought was bad but I didn't think it was that bad."

Tobin nodded, then gave Henry a much more sympathetic look. "You're alright, Henry." He drew in a deep breath then uttered a happy exhale. With a sharp turn, he faced the family outside of the hut, specifically the middle-aged woman that was giving him a gentle smile. "Smells great, Ma!"

"It's merely cabbage again, dear," Tobin's mother replied, weariness lacing her voice as she tried to bring a herd of small children to the table.

"Ah," Tobin waved off her concern. "I'm sure it still tastes good. Do we have any for Tobin and Henry here?"

Tobin's mother gave Henry a curious, but friendly look. She didn't question his attire, or even where he came from. Instead, she offered him a kind smile and nodded.

"There should be enough for two more bowls. Please, take a seat. I'll bring them out."

"Thanks, Ma."

As Tobin's mother walked back into the house, Gray smacked Tobin's arm. "The hell man? Ya know food's a little scarce right now."

"Yeah, yeah," Tobin waved off Gray's remark. "You get to provide dinner; how about that?"

Gray thought about it for a moment. "Fair enough."

Tobin's mother emerged from the house, two bowls of steaming broth loaded with cabbage in her hands. Henry gratefully accepted one as he took a seat at the picnic table, along with his two new companions, and Tobin's entire family. A flurry of hyper, younger siblings badgered Tobin with questions, all of which he answered either with a laugh or a smile. It caused a ghost of a grin to form on Henry's face too.

All of these people may be some figment of his imagination. Or, maybe they were some strange cult determined to live like it was the Dark Ages. But, they were happy, and they were friendly. At the very least, they were feeding him, for free too. Tobin and Gray seemed like nice guys. Certainly friendlier than that old man, Sir Mycen.

Gray nudged Henry's elbow. "What're ya waiting for? Dig in. We got more stuff to do. After that work, we might be able to wrangle Alm into teaching us some stuff he learned from Sir Mycen."

"Hopefully," Tobin nodded as he scarfed down his soup. "Gotta be able to protect the village, after all."

Alm, that name came up again. He sounded like a big deal. Henry's curiosity was sparked. For the first time today, he was looking forward to the back-breaking labor, if only because it meant he was closer to meeting this person Tobin and Gray spoke about.

He must be an interesting friend.

They all ate in relative silence, each person at the table more focused on sating their hunger than making conversation. Once their bowls were empty, it was back to work, this time near a pen with two cows. A fence needed fixing, then the cows needed milking. Once again, Henry had to sigh as he stared at a set of utters dangling in front of his face.

I don't think I'm cut out for this.

Hello everyone! Yes, this is a new story, but this is a special new story. This story was a commission I received over on Fiverr, and it was commissioned by Aidanator800. Needless to say, I was quite happy to receive a Fire Emblem story to write, and while I haven't played Echoes before, I am going through a playthrough while also doing extensive research for it. This was a very fun write, and I hope it's just as fun of a read. Let me know what you all think of this chapter. As always, I hope you all enjoyed it! Have a nice day!

If you're interested in commissioning a story/chapter/one-shot even, come check me out over on Fiverr. I have the exact same username there as here, just all lowercase. Message me, and we can work out story details on that site!

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