Birth and Re-Death

Chapter 5: Adventures in Ineptitude

The next couple days are actually pretty nice, all things considered. In the absence of a crazy Frederick Fitness Hour That Isn't Really An Hour, the afternoons are mostly spent messing around with whoever isn't busy. I don't really have much to do, as packing up my shit took all of fifteen minutes and now I just have to wait. In the meantime, though, it's been cool watching the Shepherds interact with one another.

Stahl and Vaike seem to be much closer than the game had led me to believe, which surprised me at first but then began to make a lot of sense. I mean, when they're not fighting the forces of evil, they're just guys who do guy stuff. Kellam hangs with them sometimes (when they notice him), but barring that it's basically been them, Chrom and Frederick who are usually out and about, and a bunch of girls. Sully will spar with them as well, and in training they're totally impartial, but in their downtime it's pretty wholesome to see them bro-ing it up.

I learn pretty quickly that Sumia and Sully spend most of their time off with the horses, taking care to brush them and make sure they're fed and cared for. Sully's horse, Arcturus, is fiercely loyal and obeys only Sully, but barring that it seems that the horses can't get enough of Aunty Sumia. At one point she tries to show me how to feed an apple to one of the horses, but when I actually get face-to-face with the beast and realize that its head is basically the size of my entire torso, I panic and end up getting my hand bitten. Sully thinks it's funny. Sumia doesn't.

I decide one evening to try and get Miriel to show me some magic, but she says she's too busy trying to figure out how Kellam works to make time. On one hand, I'm kind of disappointed, but on the other, I ship them hard, so I'll allow it.

Virion doesn't seem to be around anywhere. That's weird. Wonder what he's up to. Probably some weird flirty shit or something. Maybe it's better I don't know.

After I strike out with basically everyone else, I decide to see what our fearless tactician is up to. I knock on her bedroom door and hear a considerable amount of rustling, some mumbling, then a sudden yelp and a loud crash. A few seconds later the door opens, and Robin is rubbing her head.

"Looks like that hurts. What happened?" I peer over her head (because I can do that now! Being slightly taller than average is great!) and good lord that's a lot of books. Including several now-toppled stacks. Which explains the crash. "Never mind. I think I know what happened," I deadpan, and she rolls her eyes.

"Did you need something?" she asks.

"Just seeing what's cooking on your end. I know it's gotta be pretty stressful planning a march across half the country into a foreign nation," I reply, and I think her eyelid just twitched.

"Oh, stressful doesn't even begin to cover it!" she almost shouts, storming back into her room and rolling open a map on her desk. "Come look at this!" she commands, and I almost trip on the pile of fallen books in the middle of the room on the way over to the map. "Look how many possible routes we have! This shouldn't be possible if we're just going one direction, but no, there's no fewer than thirty potential options when you account for all of the splits in the road and potential deviations or detours from the main road, and I've been analyzing each one based on risk versus amount of time saved. It's been a nightmare!" The map has a crazy amount of lines, smaller lines branching from those lines, little scrawled notes here and there, and a couple doodles that look like they might be Risen faces.

"So that's what you've been up to for the past few days. No one has really seen you, y'know," I say.

"There's been no time! Honestly, I shouldn't even be taking the time to talk to you about all this, but I guess stress has just been getting the better of me, and you happened to come by." She doesn't look like she's slept much lately. Jeez, you never really get to see this side of Robin. Being responsible for the lives of a group of soldiers must be a really taxing gig. I guess I had always figured she'd be the type-A personality of the group, but not to this extent.

"Hey… Maybe you should take a break for a little bit," I say cautiously. "I'm pretty sure dinner's almost ready downstairs, maybe you should eat with everyone and get your spirits back up?"

"I have to make sure the route is perfect. We leave tomorrow, you know."

"I know, but...well, you look like you're gonna be hurtin' for certain if you don't cool it a little." She shoots me a glare, and it's hard to meet her eye. "I'm not saying it's not important! Just that maybe having a sane tactician might be nice too."

She keeps up the glare for a moment more, then sighs, sounding very worn out. "Alright. I'll come down for a little while. But then it's back to planning."

"Fair enough," I concede, and we wade through the floor-books to get back to the door.

As we are walking down the hall, I remember why I was there in the first place. "Oh hey! I was wondering if you'd teach me some magic stuff. Healing is great and all, but I wanna learn how to defend myself too."

She shifts around a little. "Not that it's not a good idea to learn it, but I don't know that I can really help. I know I can work tomes, but I can't really tell you how to...actually do it."

I cock my head. "What does that mean?"

She points to her temple. "I don't remember learning how to do it."

I feel my face redden. Nice going, jackass. "Oh, uh, right. Sorry." We walk to dinner in silence. However, once we're inside the mess hall it's like a whole new Robin emerges. Suddenly she's the bold, extroverted character I'm used to, making jokes and having fun with pretty much everyone. It looks like a lot of the tension is lifting from her, which is good because they're going to need her. After all, I won't be there to hit any handy suicidal reset buttons if things go askew, so she's gotta get it right on the first try. Not that I'd ever tell her that.

That night, I think a lot about death. I think about my brain getting axed. I think about being beaten, stomped on, and broken, before mercifully having my throat slit. I think about burning alive and being consumed by lava. I wiggle my foot back and forth and can faintly remember what it was like to lose feeling of my legs as the super-hot liquid rock devoured them. I blink a couple times and remember how confused I was when my eye stopped working because my brain hadn't yet realized it was dying. I remember the look on Robin's face when my legs gave out from under me. I remember how helpless Chrom looked when he realized I was a lost cause amid the fire and lava.

"It's possible I might have some issues to talk through," I tell the ceiling.

The trip to Themis isn't really that exciting, to be honest. I sleep through a lot of the first couple days and spend the rest of it checking out some of the Ylissean countryside. It's pretty much what you'd expect; that is, it's gorgeous. Rolling hills, massive farms, lush forests, and cheerful rivers intertwine with each other as we make our way southwest toward Maribelle's home. It's the kind of scene that would have the likes of Samuel Coleridge and Percy Shelley spitting poetry like it's going out of style.

There's also portals every once in awhile, but since they're still closed I try not to think about it too much.

Because it's about a week's trip by horse from Yllistol to Themis, we have several carriages and attendants with us; this also gives Maribelle an excuse to sit in a different carriage from me and speak as little as possible with me. She does, however, give me some preliminary reading materials to peruse on the trip. While at first a little apprehensive about having to study like I'm going to school or something, once I get into them they're actually pretty interesting. The magic of healing is incredibly complex, and no one living today seems to have a full grasp on what makes it tick. The first and most obvious point is that it is based in a certain aptitude for the art that some people just have and others don't, much like how people can be born with an aptitude for anima or dark magic. So I've at least got that going for me, as I've made staves work before.

The ability to heal is also based in the focus, emotional state, intellect, willpower, and health of the healer, among doubtless more factors that have yet to be studied. Each staff also requires different kinds of factors; for example, a Rescue staff requires almost flawless focus, while the wound closing staves such as Mend and Recover require more willpower and passion than other staves. In short, you almost have to have a sort of relationship with your staff in order to get the most out of it. Trying to quantify the abstract and esoteric nature of having a mental conversation with a piece of metal proves difficult, as a lot of these texts look like they were written for grad students. Thanks for the rudimentary crash course material, Mari.

There was a nasty little number in one of them about the use of healing as an interrogation technique, as well. After all, you don't have to worry about your subject dying from whatever tortures are used on them if you can heal the wounds at will. I remember with a grimace that Gangrel, being a trickster, can probably use staves as well. I wonder if he's used techniques like this in the past, then quickly decide to stop thinking about it.

Despite how squishy the science seems to be, I feel that I'm actually learning a lot, and by the time we've arrived, I'm genuinely excited to start learning in practice. I'm finally gonna be useful!

Maribelle's mansion is, needless to say, stellar as well. Perfectly symmetrical, with tasteful columns and fountains in front of the home as well as green gardens, and a welcoming off-white color. There's no doubt in my mind that a duke lives here.

Well, not right now, I learn, as the duke is away on a diplomatic trip to a province in the south and has requested that Maribelle assist with taking care of the place while he's away. This means that my lessons with her will be interspersed with her administrative duties.

Soon we are pulled up to the front doors, and I retrieve my pack and staff and carry them inside. Wow, this is a fancy-ass mansion. Statuary, dark-stained wood furniture, and tasteful portraits of important-looking people adorn the foyer, which is flanked by twin staircases that lead upstairs. I am led to the second floor, where I get acquainted with my new room. It's a good deal fancier than the room I had at the barracks, with extremely cushy armchairs and a small bookshelf packed with old volumes. It looks cozy as hell here.

The woman who led me upstairs introduces herself as Isadora, the head maid. She's pretty much the sweetest person in this world, and within a few minutes I decide she's too good for us. I've never had someone call me 'dearie' before without it being insincere or sarcastic, but this gem of a woman has made it basically the cornerstone of her vernacular. Also like five minutes after I arrive, she reappears in my room with freshly baked rolls that taste like little buttery clouds. I decide then and there that I don't want to leave this place. The Shepherds can have fun fighting a couple wars or whatever, I just wanna hang with this adorable old lady.

She informs me that Maribelle will be able to teach me only in the evenings, which will leave the afternoons and mornings open to my discretion. I ask if there is a library that I can use as a study space, and she leads me to a charming little library, well lit with a lot of windows and a view of the yard in back. I peer out the window and see a small squad of soldiers, maybe six or so of them, sparring with one another. One man stands over them, occasionally nodding approvingly or gesturing in what I assume is instruction.

"So this place has its own military force?" I ask.

"'Military force' might be a strong term, dearie. That is the estate's security force, headed by Captain Jackson. He does a fine job keeping them in shape, but truth be told, we've rarely needed them in the past for anything serious, gods be praised. I do admire the work they do nonetheless, as their mere presence keeps the employees of the estate feeling safe and secure." She smiles down at them and gives a friendly wave, but they are too focused on training to notice.

I get settled into the mansion pretty quickly, learning the layout and all. It's fairly easy because of the symmetry, so where you find one thing on one end you'll probably find something similar on the other. The exceptions are the great halls, situated at the ends of the first floor hallways. The east hall is the dining hall, complete with a massive ornate table set with silverware that I have no doubt is worth more than I'll ever make. The west hall, I'm told, is where I will be training with Maribelle. I'm led to the large hall on the other side of the building, which is decorated with large chandeliers but otherwise mostly empty at the moment. Plenty of space for whatever is entailed with formal healing training, I imagine.

After I assure her that I know my way around the mansion well enough, Isadora takes her leave of me. I decide to spend the small amount of afternoon I have left meandering around the grounds. I step through a back door, which leads me to where the security force was training earlier. Though they are apparently done and gone off somewhere else, Captain Jackson is still there, polishing weapons and looking fairly formidable. He looks to be in his mid-thirties, with a hard chin and focused, light blue eyes. His auburn hair is kept short, not buzzed but almost to that length. He looks up as I approach.

"Ah, the visitor from a faraway land I've heard about. I trust we won't have any trouble, mister priest?" he says, and though he smiles I can smell the veiled threat. Wow that's a big bolt axe he's polishing.

"Uh, right! Yes, absolutely, no trouble from me," I say probably too quickly. He smirks. "So, I see you've got a bolt axe. Never seen one before. Mind showing me how it works?"

"I assume you don't mean on you?" He stands, hefting the axe over his shoulder. I know I was excited about being decently tall now, but this guy still dwarfs me in height and width. Reminds me of high-school football.

"Yes, preferably on pretty much anything else," I squeak.

"Alright then." He turns toward one of the practice dummies still left out from training. "How about this?" he shouts, and swings the axe down in an arc. As he is completing the swing, a similarly-shaped arc of lightning very loudly cascades toward the dummy, shooting its head clean off its shoulders and leaving some impressive burn marks on the body that remains. That's one dead dummy. I'm officially scared of Jackson.

"Well?" He's looking at me expectantly.

"That's...impressive, for sure."

"Wanna try it?"

"Oh my god. Gods. Yes, yes I want that very much." I'm starting to reach for the axe when–

"Mister Randall?" a voice calls out from the door. I turn around and see another maid is calling me. Aww, but I was gonna get to blow shit up!

She looks more or less my age, with her long dark hair pulled into a pragmatic simple braid. "My name is Melinda. I believe you have met my mother, Isadora?"

"Oh, you mean the world's most pure-hearted person ever?" I ask with a smile. Is everyone in the estate staff a cinnamon roll?

She smiles as well. "Yes, that would be her. Please come with me. Lady Maribelle wishes to begin your training this evening before supper." I follow her to the training hall, where Maribelle is waiting, a staff of her own in hand. Melinda closes the door behind her as she leaves, which shouldn't have scared me near as much as it did. Something about being in a room alone with Maribelle still makes me worry a little for my safety, if I'm being honest.

"Hi there, Maribelle," I say with a nervous smile.

"Good evening," she says stiffly. I know she didn't really want to do this with me either, but would it kill her to inject some enthusiasm? "I don't mean to be rude, but time is of the essence. Let's begin."

"Uh, right. What should I do?" I ask.

"Did you read the materials I gave you on the way here?" she asks sharply.

"Yes!" I squeak, then more levelly, "Yeah, I did. But there wasn't anything about how formal training actually works."

"I was merely checking to make sure you've stayed to task," she replies. "The art of healing requires a great deal of understanding to become reliably proficient. I shall warn you, though. This training may alarm you. Simply follow instructions and all will be well."

"What does that mean?"

"We will begin now." She turns around and picks something up. When she turns to face me again I can see it's a dagger. Oh holy hell was this all a ruse to attack me? I'm sorry Maribelle, I didn't mean to see you all nude and shit! It was Vaike! Stab him!

I don't have time to say any of this aloud before she swiftly pulls up her left sleeve and gives her own forearm a quick slash of the dagger. What the hell?

"Heal me," she says simply. Oh. Oh shit. I fumble around with my staff uselessly for a second, then finally get a grip on it while she rolls her eyes. I try to remember everything I've read, everything I've done. How I felt on the battlefield, and why I was able to heal Chrom and the others back then without a second thought. I feel the staff vibrate faintly, but I can already tell it's not as strong as before. Why should it be? I'm obviously useless to the team when they've already got the likes of Lissa and Maribelle. There's no point to my being here if all I can do is flop around uselessly with this hunk of metal.

Her right hand reaches out and grabs my shoulder. "You're thinking too much. Just heal me."

I take a deep breath and start again. Remember, focus, willpower, passion, man that's getting to be a lot of blood–NO. Keep focusing. Close the wound. The magic is already in the staff, you just have to guide it to the cut. Feel it well up, slowly, slowly, and now push it out.

After a minute and a half or so, the staff's magic finally seeps out of the staff and circles her wound, but it can't fully close the wound. The blood still spills out from the open portion, and I could swear it's almost laughing at me. You can't even close one cut, you dunce.

Suddenly, a light shines in the dim room and circles her wound, closing it entirely. Did I do something? Is something working? No, in her other hand she's holding what I recognize to be a Balmwood staff. She healed herself.

"Stand up," she says, and I realize that at some point I had fallen on one knee with the effort of commanding the staff's magic. I scramble to my feet and stand in ashamed silence. "Look at me," she commands, and I do. She doesn't look angry like I expected, but she certainly does look stern. "Try again."

"Wait, I'm not ready to–"

Too late. She winces in pain as she reopens her arm. God that looks like that sucks. Why on earth is this the way healers train?

"Why on earth is this the–"

"Don't talk," she says with gritted teeth, "just heal."

I try again, with the same results. And then again. This goes on for I don't know how long, and each time she has to close her own wound because I can't. And all she says, every time, is "try again." Which I do, with the same results. How did it get so hard when it was so easy before? Is it really just that there was mortal peril involved?

Alright then, I decide, pretend like this next one will kill her if you don't do it right. Act like her life is on the line. No, believe her life is on the line. As she opens up her arm again, I stare deeply at the wound. I watch the blood leave her. If too much of that spills out, she'll die, no question. I stare harder. It's the only thing my eyes are focusing on. That's her life, leaving her. If you don't do something, then she will run out of life and that will be on you. So close the wound. Save her life.

I lift the staff, and the vibration is stronger than ever. As I did before when I first saw Lissa take that axe blow in Southtown, I know exactly what to do. I push the light out of the orb and will it to enter and heal the wound. At last, it does. Aside from the blood left behind, there's no trace of the cut.

It takes a second to register what just happened. "Holy shit!" I yell, and it echoes through the vast chamber. "It worked! Yes! Yes!" Without thinking, I pull my mentor into a tight hug, which she promptly pushes her way out of. I'm instantly embarrassed, but still grinning.

Brushing herself off, she says, "Don't do that. It's much too…j-just don't do that. Yes, well, it's a start, but we've a long way to go yet." She takes a breath and composes herself. "Though perhaps we should finish for today. You look quite exhausted."

I didn't realize until she said as much, but she's right. My limbs feel heavy, and everything is kind of numb. "Yeah, I am. Thanks."

"No thanks are necessary," she says with what I could swear is the shadow of a smile. "Now come, let's go to have some supper. I'm sure you're famished."

You've got that right, Maribelle.

A/N: Hey there folks, hope you enjoyed this chapter and our official departure from the bulk of the Shepherds. I like the idea of allowing a story to flesh out independently of the source material when possible, but still remain a part of that larger story, so even though coming up with an entire new location stocked with characters that don't really exist is kind of tough, it's also really rewarding. As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!