Birth and Re-Death
Chapter 29: Nowi Wants to Grow a Beard
"Oh. Well, that's fine, I guess. I'll just find something else to do," Randall says with a calculated shrug. "See you later, Robin. Let me know how it goes." He walks off toward the hall of bedrooms, stiff in the shoulders.
"Jeez, that'll put him in a mood," I mutter to myself as I take my leave so I can get my maps and other charts from the command wagon. I don't notice Chrom has joined me until he speaks up.
"Put who in a mood?" Chrom asks, walking quickly to catch up and walk beside me.
"Good, you're here. I was going to send someone to find you. The khans have requested that only the two of us be with them to formulate the grand strategy to take back Ylisse and defeat Gangrel. They've cited security concerns, as some scouts have reported strange folk coming and going from Shepherd encampments as we've made our way back north. I don't know what that's about, and of course I'd like to believe that none of us have been reporting our movements to outsiders, but it's got the khans worked up a bit. So they don't want anyone other than you and me. And like I said before when it came to the decision to come back to Ný Von in the first place, there's a lot on which we have to defer to the khans' judgment." By now we've reached the command wagon, so I climb in and start gathering the materials we'll need. "But I could tell it bothered Randall to hear that he was being shut out."
"Well, I guess they just don't know him like you do," Chrom replies with a shrug.
"Yeah. It's understandable from their perspective. Here, hold these," I say, handing him a stack of a few dozen charts, maps, and tactical manuals.
He staggers a bit in an effort to steady himself. "Gods above, Robin, what is all this?"
"Everything we might need to formulate a working plan to win this campaign. It's every informational resource at our disposal." I pick up a stack myself and start walking back to the throne room with Chrom at my side.
"Do we really need all this?"
"Better to not need it and have it than the other way around."
"I guess… Is this the romance chart?" he asks, looking at the chart on top of his stack.
"...I stand by what I said before. Better to have it."
"Why on earth would we need this?" Chrom asks, looking at the chart like it bit him.
"Look, for example, if we need to divide our numbers to orchestrate a pincer attack, it's better when forming groups to put people with those that they'll, you know, get along with. If we carelessly pair a couple of recent exes or slap a couple that doesn't get along together in a pivotal position, we're bound to have trouble. There's a non-zero chance it could prove useful, so we're bringing it," I explain exasperatedly.
"I guess that makes sense when you put it like that." We walk for a few seconds in silence. Then his next thought bursts out of his mouth, as if unbidden by its owner. "By the way, why the hell does that chart say that I have no romantic prospects? I'd say I'm at least a reasonably kind, wealthy, eligible bachelor, right? And I'm not too bad on the eyes, I'd like to think!"
"Chrom, I am not at liberty to discuss the contents of the chart. It's highly confidential information," I reply.
"As far as we could tell, it's just your personal impressions of people! Hardly earth-shattering information. But why do you think that I don't have any prospects?" Chrom demands.
I don't think he's going to drop this. "Because you're like the least romantic person I know! All you do is train and fight and patrol and occasionally talk with your sisters or Frederick. But mostly that first thing. How do you think that makes you a viable romantic interest? Frederick is more romantic than you, Chrom."
"Wha-... hang on just a moment! I don't think that's a fair assessment, Robin!" he protests.
"Oh yeah? What else do you do?" It's only now that I realize we stopped walking at some point to have this conversation.
"I take my dinners with everyone else! I talk and laugh with people over meals pretty often. I even joined the group for drinking the other week. I'm plenty sociable." He's legitimately pouting at this point.
"Yeah, but usually you're talking about either training or the war. I'm not saying it's a bad thing that we have a leader that's so focused on winning this thing. In fact, it's a damn good thing. But you can't deny it makes you a little romantically unavailable," I say.
"Well, what else am I supposed to talk about? What do people talk about?" he asks.
"Chrom, you are asking perhaps the worst possible person," I deadpan. "Why don't you ask your little sister? She's always got something to say. Or hell, ask Randall. I usually can't get him to shut up either."
"As if you even try. Usually you just egg him on. But you're probably right. Lissa would be a good person to ask. It's been too long since we talked about anything that wasn't deadly serious," he says thoughtfully.
"There you go. Now let's go. I wanna get this over with so we can get back to Ylisse and start chasing those asshats out of our country." We resume walking.
"You know, now that I think about it, you're kind of starting to talk like him," Chrom remarks after a while.
"Who, Randall?"
"Yeah. It's hard to place it exactly, but you just sort of talk more like he does than you used to. Maybe it's just that you swear more these days."
"Well, if I do, it's just an effect of overexposure. I'm definitely not doing it on purpose," I reply, a little embarrassed that I didn't notice my foul language.
"If you say so," he says with a shrug that makes him drop a few charts off the top of the stack. We try for a while to get them back in his grip, but it proves impossible while we're weighed down with the awkwardly perched materials already in our hands. Looks like we'll just have to come back and make a second trip.
I sigh in resignation. It's gonna be that kind of day, huh?
"So is this the part where you tell me to 'clear my mind' or whatever it is? I've never really meditated before," I say, unable to hide some of my irritation.
Not that I'm irritated at Libra. I'm just salty that I'm being left out of the planning meeting being held in the khans' strategy room. Apparently they only wanted Chrom and Robin with them to form the plan for retaking Ylisse, and I'm not cool enough to attend. I know I've just about never spoken with either of the khans, but still, it stung a little to be discounted like that. I guess it did open up some time to officially start my training with Libra, so at least there's something for me to do. We are sitting a few feet away from each other on the rug next to my bed in the palace, facing one another.
Libra smiles patiently. "Not exactly. I think that will happen naturally enough. No, what I need you to do is make yourself aware of your body. So, follow my instructions as closely as you can, alright?"
"Okay. What do you mean, 'aware of my body'?" I ask.
"Think about where the disparate parts of your body are, and what they're doing. As many parts as you can register at once. We need you to be acutely aware of your entire body if you're going to be able to manipulate it to put one over on your tomes. You'll be learning to maneuver your body at the smallest level. Let's begin."
He closes his eyes. "Feel your hands. Where are they positioned? Are your fingers tensed? How does it feel when you relax them? Are your arms relaxed? What about your feet? Your ankles? Locate the places where your body is working, even as you sit apparently idle."
I notice the work my legs and back are doing just to keep me sitting like this. My arms aren't fully relaxed either; they're lifted a bit and leaning on my torso. I realize I don't know what my fingers would do if I totally relaxed them, so I try it. They lie together almost uncomfortably. "Am I supposed to totally relax my limbs or something?"
"Goodness, no. I doubt you could do it if you tried, honestly. Even in our sleep we tense up our limbs at some places. No, I just want you to feel it for real. Actually be conscious of it. Your body is always doing something. Now, think about your breathing. How much do you breathe in? Do you fill your lungs to capacity with every breath, or do you breathe shallowly? How quickly or slowly are you breathing?"
Having to mechanically breathe rather than letting it happen naturally is uncomfortable. The more I think about it, the more I drive myself insane. Do I always breathe this deeply? I doubt it, but now I can't be sure. Why do I feel out of breath now? The moment I let a breath out, it feels like my body can't wait even a moment to get its next load of oxygen. One of my nostrils breathes more clearly than the other. I become aware of my soft palate's position. Then my tongue, then the position of my neck. I sit taller for a moment, then settle down again, but less comfortably. Less naturally.
"This will be more difficult. Try to feel your heart. How frequently does it beat as you sit at rest? The frequency changes all the time. Even lifting a single finger creates a change. Do you notice the subtle shifts in your heart rate? It is alright if you don't, because in time you will."
I do my best to feel it without reaching for an easy pulse reading spot. As my fingers rest against my palms and my hands against my thighs, I realize I can feel it very faintly as blood shoots through my vessels, both in my legs and in my fingertips. I hear the blood rush in my ears in the otherwise quiet room. Soon the sound is all I hear, a high-pitched ringing that waxes and wanes as I focus in and out on it. Reminds me of when I was a kid, lying in bed in my silent bedroom, just listening to the ring of my own blood and trying not to think about all the places ghosts might be hiding in my room.
It's weirdly taxing to try and keep track of all this. As I focus on my heart, my breathing becomes automatic again. I'm no longer aware of all my limbs. As I shift my focus to them, my heartbeat takes a distant backseat again. I'm supposed to be able to do all this at once?
"Surprisingly difficult," I remark, startling myself with the noise in the otherwise quiet room.
"It will be for some time. I had to practice daily, and if I were to take up a tome again, I would have to resume my training. It's difficult to learn and very easy to forget. Because if you slacken your focus, your body begins to work automatically again, the way it is designed to. Don't forget this: when you take on this training, you are supplanting your body's control of itself and taking it all on yourself. It is unnatural," Libra says, his gentle voice filling the room.
Is this even possible? To willfully change your heart rate, keep track of every micro-twitch of every muscle, manage your entire body, and still be able to function? Can a person live like this, let alone fight like this?
"I can see in your face that you are having doubts. Don't worry. I did say it's difficult to learn, but it can become second nature with enough effort. It is simply a matter of time and commitment," Libra says. "Eventually, Naga will bless your efforts, and your load will be lightened."
Does he mean that literally? Are we playing the divine intervention game now? I guess I won't ask for now, since it sounds like he'll want to explain it more later anyway. For now I'm sure he just wants me to focus.
I get back to it, closing my eyes to try and shut out all distractions. Focusing on everything at once remains too difficult for me, so I kind of rapidly switch from one thing to another and try to get it as good as I can, but even then it feels like I'm not really committed to my focus on any one thing. This goes on for some time, how long exactly I have no idea. You kind of lose your perception of time when you're this absorbed in your own body and the micro-movements it makes. I find it exhausting after a while.
Finally, mercifully, I hear Libra stand up, and when I open my eyes, he's motioning for me to stand as well.
"I can tell that you were at least making an effort. That is commendable," he says. "It is clear that you really want to learn this."
"Making an effort, huh? Was I getting the hang of it at all?" I ask.
"So far? Not really. But that's to be expected. You at least tried to get in the right mindset, and that's good," Libra replies patiently.
"Lovely," I can't resist saying. Starting essentially from scratch in yet another combat method doesn't have me in the best mood. It was different with Wards, which I understood more or less right away. With this, I feel like I'm rebuilding my skill set from the ground up.
"I could tell you came into this first session irritated about something, but that's alright. Part of the training is learning to work through the very real emotions you feel. Even in low-stakes practice like this, you'll never be in a truly neutral mood when you come in. You'll learn to make the training work around you, not the other way around. For now, it's good that you learned a little about how your body reacts to moderate anger. Frustration. You're building a catalogue of information about how your body responds to emotion. You'll practice when you're happy, sad, lonely, lovesick, excited, furious, and more. The best way for this method to work is for you to get a grasp on every facet of your emotional being."
So he's known all along that I'm mad about something. Even though it had nothing to do with him and wasn't his fault, he just took it in stride because he knew it would help me.
"Jeez, Libra. You might be the most genuinely good person I've met here," I say, a little ashamed that I ever pointed any of my irritation at him, even unintentionally.
His face darkens in spite of the enduring smile. "I don't know about that. If I have become a good person, I've certainly gone the long way around." He takes a moment to straighten his robes, and when he looks back up at me, he's pretty much back to normal. "All the same, Naga redeems. In any case, let's call that enough for one day. It wouldn't do to have you work yourself too hard."
Wonder what that was about. Though it's pretty apparent he doesn't want to talk about it. I decide not to press it for now. "Thanks for your help, Libra. Even if it's a slow start, I hope it's better than nothing." We both head for the door and out into the hall. I mean to head for the main hall to join the others and see what the group is up to.
"Of course it is. Despite how strict I might make this technique seem, the truth is that even the little bit you learned today will help you. The more aware you are, the better you will become, but anything that keeps you from falling headfirst into the tome's influence is good. You'll be making the tome work for you, not the other way around," Libra says as we reach his room.
He stops walking. "If you don't mind, I'd like to take some time to myself to pray. Feel free to go on without me."
"Oh. Alright then. Well, thanks again," I say as he opens his door.
"It was my pleasure. Good day, Randall." He goes into his dimly lit room and closes the door behind him.
Despite the constant distractions during the meeting as Basilio and Flavia bickered about how best to use their troops, I think I can say I'm satisfied with the plan we've come up with. I'm surprised when I notice how tired I am after the meeting. Those two are almost impossible to corral, and Chrom wasn't much help on that front. Oh well. At least it's over.
Now Chrom and I have returned to the command wagon to replace my various documents. At last, I think I've got all my charts back in order. I allow myself a self-satisfied sigh as I survey my table, double-checking that everything is in place. Wait.
"Chrom, you don't still have my romantic prospects chart, do you? If I promise to give you a more favorable outlook on the chart, will you stop sulking and give it back?" I ask as Chrom gets halfway out the wagon door.
He looks back, visibly confused. "What are you talking about? I thought you had it."
"No, when we went back, it was you that grabbed it I thought. It was in your stack originally."
"Well, I don't have it now."
Oh no. "Chrom, this isn't funny! Where did you put it?"
"I didn't put it anywhere! You probably just left it somewhere. I gotta go, but good luck with that," he says, leaving the wagon.
"Chrom, you have to help me find it!" I shout after him.
"Normally I'd love to, but I've got to find Lissa and have her teach me how not to be so, what was it… romantically unavailable. Talk to you later!" he says without turning around, waving goodbye.
"Rrrgh!" I leap out of the wagon and hurry over to the hallway leading to the khans' throne room. I walk up and down the hall, checking behind every table, suit of armor, vase, and other decoration, but to no avail. It's not here.
"This is a nightmare!" I shout. Who knows who could be sullying my data with their untrained eyes at this very moment?
"What's a nightmare?" I hear someone say alarmingly close to my head, making me jump and subsequently fall on my ass. I look up, irritated, and see Gaius grinning down at me. "Lose something, Bubbles?"
"Hello, Gaius. Yes, I lost a very valuable chart, and it's important that I find it," I grumble as I get to my feet.
"Ooh, an important chart? What's in it?" Gaius asks.
"Highly sensitive information. I can't tell you. Have you seen a rolled-up chart around anywhere?"
"Can't say that I have. But then again, you're not giving me much to go on. What does it look like?" He's smirking something fierce.
"You know… like a chart. A roll of paper sealed with a clasp. Nothing visually spectacular about it," I reply, not hiding my impatience well. You know, Gaius does look quite pleased with himself about something. And he did used to be a career thief… "You're sure you haven't seen anything like that?"
His smirk twitches. "What, you don't believe me? Maybe you think I stole it, huh?"
"I don't make accusations without solid evidence, but I will say you're at least a suspect, considering…" I pause, then abandon that thought mid-sentence. "Not a lot of other people around at the moment, after all."
The smile fades. "Lots of people come through this hallway, Bubbles. But do let me know if any of that 'solid evidence' you're looking for comes up." He saunters down a side corridor and out of sight.
...Did I just offend him with that statement? I did, didn't I?
My palm makes contact with my nose. "Gods, I really am the last person to ask about how to talk to people." And I'm still no closer to finding that damn chart.
Now what the hell am I supposed to do?
You know the best part about being friends with Exalts and khans? Royals have the best taste in comfy furniture.
I reflect on this as I sink still deeper into the bear-pelt-covered leather couch near the fireplace in what I've decided to call the Grand Lounge. The room doesn't seem to serve much of a purpose beyond being a place to get cozy. Its structure is mostly stone, like the rest of the palace, but there's a much more welcoming vibe to this place. Plush carpets cover vast swathes of the floor, and imposing but pleasing portraits of beefy important Feroxi adorn the walls. Warmly-colored lighting fixtures give the whole room a soft glow. And of course, plenty of comfortable furnishings to complete the atmosphere. I bet important parties use this room as a space for guests to chill, but right now it's my domain. Well, mine and about ten other Shepherds', but who's counting?
In a chair on the other side of the fireplace, over the casual conversation of the people between her and me, Nowi shouts, "Hey Randy! Does your beard keep your face warm?" A few people stop talking to look at either her or me.
"Uh… Yes," I call back, feeling like I should at least answer her question even if it means being just as rude. I'm sure as hell not giving up my warmed-up spot on this couch for something this trivial.
"I thought so! How do you grow one?"
"You just sort of… do. I don't do anything special except not shave it."
"Then how come I don't have one? I'm tired of being so dang cold all the time!"
Well gee, Nowi, have you considered wearing an actual shirt? "It, uh, won't work for you though."
"Why not?"
I am not about to be the one who gives the biology lesson about sex differences to the dragon loli. "Because you're a manakete. Dragons don't have beards," I reply. Gregor, Stahl, and Anna all chuckle at my expert dodge.
Nowi pouts. "That stinks! I think I'd look cool with a beard like yours!"
Now I'm laughing too. "I'm sure you would, Nowi."
The big-ass wooden door to the Grand Lounge swings open, and Gaius comes in and sits on the other end of my couch. He looks like he's just sucked a lemon.
"Hey Gaius, what's up?" I ask.
"Nothing much. Jeez, even in the oh-so-palatial khan's joint, still can't manage to stave off the cold, huh?" he growls with a shiver.
"I hear that. But hopefully we won't be here too long. I know Robin is pretty irritated that the khans wanted to come here in the first place, so I'm sure she's doing all she can to get us back on the road pronto," I say in an attempt to reassure him, but based on the face he makes in reply, it seems like I'm just deepening the irritation. Oh well. Some folks just want to be in a bad mood sometimes.
"Well, we can't get back on the road until whoever stole her precious chart fesses up, can we?" Gaius asks the far wall.
"Chart? What are you talking about?"
"Oh, our good friend Bubbles has misplaced some super-important chart somewhere around here, and it seems we're all suspects in its theft," he grumbles. "Or at least I am. Gotta tell you, not a fan of my supposed friend accusing me of nicking her stuff. I did leave that life behind to join you all, ya know."
Oh man, that is exactly like her. Wonder what chart she lost? Could it be..? Has Christmas arrived early in Regna Ferox? I'd love little more than to learn that the romance chart's contents have gone public.
Still, I should at least try and put out the fire a little bit. "Well, I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it. She just gets really anal about her books and maps and shit, and has a habit of throwing decorum out the window when important stuff is on the line," I say.
"Still," Sumia chimes in from a nearby chair, "it's not very nice for her to accuse Gaius of something like that."
These damn Shepherds and their gossip-mongering. This is the same shit that makes group spaces so uncomfortable for Maribelle, even when every bit of two months has passed since we broke up. "Look, Sumia, I think that that's between Gaius and Robin to sort out. It's none of our business, got it?"
I guess I must have said that in a sterner tone than I meant to, as Sumia all but physically winces at my admonishment. "Y-you're right, Randall. Sorry."
"You sure get scary when you're defending your woman, Bear," Gaius adds.
"As if," I reply instantly, trying not to so much as glance at Cordelia, off having her own conversation with Panne a few couches over. "And no, I'm just not a fan of people being put through the social wringer for something little like that. She just spoke carelessly. I'm sure she's currently kicking herself for it. You have any idea how much stress she's under? I bet the last time she got a proper night of sleep was the last time we were here, before we learned that Emmeryn had been captured. Maybe earlier. I think maybe she's earned a freebie faux pas or two."
Now it's Gaius's turn to look a little ashamed. After a few seconds, he says, "Maybe you got a point. Doesn't mean it didn't rub me the wrong way."
"I'm sure it did. Now go find her and sort it out with her, put the whole thing to bed right now," I say.
"Do I have to? It's a lot warmer here on the pelts," he moans.
"You can have your spot back when you've cleared the air with her. Now git," I say firmly.
"Uuuuugh, fine. See you later, Dad." Gaius stomps off, sucking on his lollipop with his lips pursed out like an overgrown kid.
Watching Gaius leave, Sumia giggles. "You kinda did sound like a father there, Randall. Giving us kids a good scolding. You're normally so carefree."
"I think I preferred Bear to Dad, personally," I sigh. I don't like playing social policeman, but I guess no one else is willing. "This army is so rumor-happy."
"I guess that's the price that comes with an army that cares about each other like family. Everyone's always in everyone's business, like a nosy little sister," Sumia remarks.
"Is that you when you're with your family, Sumia? The nosy little sister?" I ask with a grin.
"No way! That would be Tricia, my younger sister. She's nine years younger than me, and ever since she could crawl, she's been constantly in my stuff," she replies with a wistful smile. "I do miss her though. I've been thinking about her a lot. My family shouldn't really be in much danger, since our home is pretty out of the way. But still, I can't help but worry."
"Your family's among the nobility, right?"
"Yeah, you could say that. It's nothing huge like the Exalted family or Maribelle and her family in Themis, or even Sully's family, the van Bourgaeana clan in Radd province. But my father is the baron of the Anchorage estate. It's a significant holding in East Sedgar province. It was a great place to grow up. Far from the border, far from Ylisstol, kind of far from everything, but still connected. I only hope the Plegians haven't bothered with it. I haven't heard from my family since we left Ylisstol." She kinda curls up a little on the couch as she says this. Looks like she accidentally concocted herself a bad mood from scratch.
"If it's as out of the way as you say, I'm sure they're fine. And anyway, the next step for us is taking Ylisse back. If they have occupied East Sedgar province, then we'll just have to chase them out and get your home back too," I say.
She gives me a guilty smile in response. "Thanks, Randall. I know you're trying to cheer me up. I appreciate it."
There's only so much I can do to reassure her right now. That'll have to do.
"Well, Mustafa? Is the message getting across by now?" Gangrel shouts over the pained yelling of his prisoner as Mustafa's arms un-shatter. "I can do this all day! And even when I can't, there are plenty of competent healers around to keep the fun going. How long do you intend to keep this up?"
When he catches his breath, Mustafa stares the king in the eye and growls, "Every time you or one of your men inflicts another injury on me, it confirms for me all over again that I will never allow my wife, my child, or my friends to get anywhere near you."
"Is that your way of trying to get me to stop?" Gangrel asks icily as he tosses his Heal staff aside and stands over the ex-general.
"Hah! Hardly. Just letting you know the score. Every minute you spend indulging your perverse sadism on me is a minute my allies and your enemies spend getting stronger. I can do this a lot longer than you can, I assure you," Mustafa replies.
The king's brow starts twitching. "Is that right? And what makes you so sure of that?" Gangrel asks, spittle flying in Mustafa's face.
"Because we're smarter than you. We're stronger than you. We have more to lose than you, which means we will fight harder than you. We stand for something, where you stand for nothing but your own aggrandizement."
"What would you know?" Gangrel demands. "What would you understand about the sacrifices I've made? Inheriting a country fresh out of the bloodiest war in living memory from my fool of a father. Stamping out the fires of war hawkish fervor among not only the citizenry, but the nobility as well. Convincing the people to resume normal trade and abandon wartime production, begging farmers to sell their crops at a price people could even dream of affording. What man of a mere nineteen years could be expected to bring his country back from that without breaking a few eggs? No, I have done as the people demanded of their king. I have a chance to lead them to prosperity. And I will lead them to still greater heights, when I am free of parasites like you who live under the protection of Plegia's banner while seeking to undermine its authority!"
Mustafa starts to reply, but Gangrel slaps him before any complete words get out. Gangrel wouldn't admit it to anyone, but it hurt his hand much more than it looks like it hurt Mustafa's face.
"Where are they, Mustafa? I don't have any interest in hearing what you have to say unless it's to answer my questions," Gangrel says, drawing his Levin sword angrily and gripping it tightly in his stinging hand.
Mustafa sighs. "I'll answer your question. You asked what I would know about sacrifice. I would know plenty. Ask General Campari. The friends we lost in Gideon's War, the– guh!" He is interrupted by Gangrel's fist striking him in the solar plexus.
"I'm not in the mood for you to get cute with me, Mustafa!" Gangrel says wearily. "So unless you're going to tell me what I want to know, I'd just as soon you stay quiet so I can crush your joints in peace."
"Honestly, boy," Mustafa hisses through gritted teeth as his breath slowly returns, "what do you think you're accomplishing, sending all these young people to their deaths? You claim to know the horrors of war, yet it's by your orders that the fighting continues."
"I don't have any choice," Gangrel mutters. "It's what the people demand."
"Which people told you that? Because they certainly represent a minority, Gangrel! Your people want peace."
"They say they want peace, but what they want more is food. Resources. Things that we can and will have when the east and the north are ours. Leaving people to starve is not peace, even if they're not being sent to war. This country is in need of deliverance, and I will be the one to lead it."
"You? Unlikely. You'll sooner find a blade at your throat, I expect, keeping on like this," Mustafa replies.
"And who will be holding it? One of your men, I suppose? Mustafa, isn't it clear by now? Your men have abandoned you. Your arrest was made public to the people of Plegia more than a week ago. Not even a whisper of a plan to rescue you. Your plan is already dying. I just mean to make sure it dies. And then all of this pain you're suffering can end," Gangrel says.
"My men know that our plan is bigger than me. Bigger than any of us. I'm proud that they have not stooped to base sentimentality in the face of a crisis. In fact, if I were you, I'd start sleeping with one eye open, boy. They're more likely to kill you than they are to rescue me," Mustafa says defiantly. "And even if they don't, Prince Chrom will. I've seen him on the field of battle. He spared me when I agreed to stand down, but I was lucky, because I would not have bested him in a fight. And in all the time I spent training you with the blade, you never once defeated me. Think, then, how your fight against this new Exalt will go when you've given him all this time to gather his strength. You've been dooming yourself for weeks already."
Gangrel grits his teeth. Is Mustafa truly so unwavering? And worse yet, he's right. While the Plegian military has been licking their wounds, no doubt that princeling is doing the same behind the safety of the Longfort by now. When next they fight, it won't be here on Gangrel's home turf. It will have to be in Ylisse.
And alive or not, his hostage is gone. He has nothing to hold over Chrom that he hasn't already used. Even though he still has the edge in the war, he feels that edge slipping all the time as he loses momentum and the Shepherds gain it. In truth, he already has little time left before he will be forced to leave for the east to meet his adversaries, and he knows it.
And, irritatingly, Mustafa knows it too. These interrogation methods seem to be making no headway, and Mustafa is too smart not to know that Gangrel is starting to bleed. This really is a waste of his time, though he's loathe to admit that Mustafa was right from the beginning.
He comes to a decision. "Mustafa, the moment that my spies return with information on the whereabouts of the Shepherds or your allies, I will be leaving for Ylisse. If by the time I leave, you haven't told me where your allies are, I promise you will be executed. Is that clear?" Gangrel hisses.
"Clear as crystal, Your Highness," Mustafa replies.
"Rrragh!" Gangrel growls as he stabs the Levin sword into Mustafa's shoulder and delivering a brief but intense shock. "Whether you live and tell me what I want to know, or you die and I get to see it before I leave, I'll be looking forward to this either way." He leaves the room, slamming the iron door shut behind him.
Mustafa is in pain, but it's not nearly enough to crack the look of satisfaction on his face as he sits alone in the cold, dark room.
"Alright, everyone, listen up!" Chrom announces to the group after we've finished dinner. "Here's the plan as it stands right now for our invasion into Ylisse. We're going to start in the northwest, entering through side trade routes leading through the Sedgar provinces. We're not going to enter via the Northroad, number one because it wastes time to go that Far East, and number two because the Plegians are sure to have patrol garrisons stationed there. It's our hope that the Wolf Forest will allow us to stay more or less under the radar until we reach one of several options for resupply. Of course, we can't know yet which towns have been hit hardest by the Plegians, but our scouts will be able to inform us as we approach. We'll be stopping at whichever location has been left most untouched by the Plegians."
He pauses to let us take that in. "I know that this might upset some among us if it turns out we have to ignore their homes for now and resolve to come back later to help. After a great deal of deliberation with the khans, we came to the agreement that the best course of action is to retake Ylisstol first and begin our liberation campaign from there. It's not only the capital and the most populous city, but also the most fortified and easily defended if we can install our own garrison there. It will be much, much easier to take Ylisstol if the enemy doesn't know we are coming. Our plan hinges on moving quickly and making as little noise as possible.
"Now then, our candidate locations for resupply are the following. First choice, the pegasus knight training facility near the border between the Sedgar provinces. As it's already a military outpost, it's the most likely to have usable resources that we can pick up. It's also the most likely to be already occupied by the Plegians, so our hopes aren't high. But it would be nice, and we aren't ruling it out just yet. Our second choice is the manor at the Ferrieder barony in East Sedgar province, the home of Lord Aventine Ferrieder. Lord Aventine himself may still be missing, but the Ferrieder clan has served the Exalted family for generations, and they have always kept an impressive security staff on hand at the family manor. If any clan between us and Ylisstol is still keeping up the fight, it'll be them. That said, it's a fairly prominent location, and we are assuming for now that it's been hit as well. Our third choice is the Anchorage estate in East Sedgar. Honestly, it's a good bit out of the way, so it's a last resort option, as much as I would personally like to see to the safety of Sumia's family. In any case, our route from here to the Ylissean border is secure, and the khans' forces will be with us all the way this time. Rest well tonight, because we're leaving in the morning. That'll be all for now."
Oh. Well that's what happens when I don't get invited to the planning meeting, I guess. Their second choice for resupply locations is the home of the guy who tried to sell us out to Gangrel like four or five months ago. Lovely. And there's not really a way I can get them to see why that's a terrible idea without telling them I know things I'm not supposed to know, is there? Double lovely.
Maybe I can bring something up with Robin. If anyone's going to understand, it would be her. She doesn't have the same implicit trust of Aventine that Frederick and the Exalted family seem to.
I might wait a bit to talk with her about it, though. She looks like she's in a bad mood sitting over there.
I also reflect what this means as far as where we might have been if we were still following the script. We'd be marching back to Plegia right now, preparing to take the fight to Gangrel directly. When I think about it, that's a dumb idea. If Gangrel had decided not to show up to the Border Wastes, where would that have left the Shepherds? Though I guess in-game, most of Gangrel's army deserts him in the wake of Emmeryn's sacrifice.
Somehow, I'm getting the impression that real life isn't working out that way. By all accounts, there's still a large number of soldiers supporting Gangrel even now. Maybe Robin was right back at the Midmire: has word gotten out that Emmeryn survived? If so, I guess it's not surprising that we're still seeing such loyalty from the Plegians.
Someone taps my shoulder, interrupting my thoughts. "Randy, I wonder if I might have a word," Maribelle says behind me. I turn to face her. As is often the case, I can't tell what she's thinking by that expression.
"Uh, sure," I say, getting up to follow her. "Where at?"
"It's poor grammar to end sentences with prepositions," Maribelle corrects automatically, then blinks. "I mean, my apologies. Force of habit. Anyway, I'd prefer to speak somewhere… you know…"
I get it. "Right. Lead the way, then."
I'll admit, my heart is beating harder than normal as we walk down the hallway to her room. I have no idea what she could want. We agreed we would revisit the idea of 'us' after the war, after all. Has something changed with her? Is she angry with me on account of everyone shutting her out more than usual lately? That sounds more likely, now that I think about it.
I work a nice pit of worry into my gut by the time we reach her room, and she shuts the door behind her. She crosses the room to the pair of chairs by the reading table and sits down, gesturing for me to do the same.
As I sit, I ask, "So, what's up, Maribelle?"
She fidgets a little. "I have no idea how to begin a conversation like this."
"Like what?"
The fidgeting worsens. "Um… Well, I'd like to start by thanking you."
"What? What for?"
"I know that you've been going out of your way to make sure that I feel as welcome as possible with the group. You reached out to me the night everyone went drinking in that oasis town, when it would have been easier not to. You specifically ask me questions when the group has conversations around the fire to ensure I'm not left out. You've been doing your best to be a good friend to me, and I want you to know that it's recognized and appreciated." She smiles.
Why do I get the feeling that I'm not gonna like where this is going, then?
"I mean, it's what any friend would do, right?"
She shrugs lightly. "Maybe. Though I'm also aware it hasn't been easy for you. We left things in such a… complicated position, last time we were here. It was already months ago, but I replay parts of that conversation over in my head more often than I'd care to admit. I was so upset at the time. But now I see that you were right to make the choice you did. It was brave, and kind."
"It's been kind of weird to adjust to, yeah. We used to spend so much time together, back in the beginning. But after all this happened, suddenly we were spending most of our time off in our little worlds. I started training to be a tactician, then to be a dark mage, then to use Ward staves with Libra. It's like all my time is being put toward something else."
"You've learned quickly. You had to adjust to a great deal with little advance warning. Honestly, when we first met, I was amazed how little you seemed to know about how to do your job. But of course, I'm proud of how far you've come. Even if I remain more skeptical than ever about that dark magic business, when Libra explained to me what had happened… that your concern for me allowed the tome to take control… I will admit that it was, in its way, flattering. That you still cared for me enough that you might lose your grip on your emotions." She closes her eyes and takes a breath. "Actually, that's not a bad way to segue into what I really need to talk to you about."
My stomach leaps. "Yeah?"
"Yes. I want to… gods, this is so cruel of me… I want us to decide, here and now, that we will never be romantically together again. Not after the war. Not ever."
The churning intensifies. "I… see. What made you want to decide this so firmly?"
I can tell by the wobbling in her voice as she responds that she's starting to get upset. "It's not right, stringing you along like I have been. Even if you don't think that's what I've been doing, and even if it hasn't been intentional, the fact remains that I've been keeping you essentially on the hook. I've been truly happy to see how much you still obviously care for me, but… even so, it's not the same feeling you want me to be able to provide. I don't think it ever will be. And I've tried. I've been jealous of the time you spend with other women in the Shepherds, and for a time I thought it might mean that I was starting to fall for you for real.
"But then I saw what true passion for someone else looks like. It took shape as you tore through Plegian lines, ignoring every injury you sustained just in your desperation to reach me. It was incredible. You could have died, and it just didn't matter to you, because you thought I might be in danger. It was scary, to be sure, and you'd better not put yourself at risk like that again. But when I remembered my own feelings of jealousy over the time you've been spending with Robin, or even seeing you so flustered sitting next to Cordelia, I realized how those feelings pale in comparison to what you did for me. I tried to convince myself that they were the same, or that someday they might be the same, but I was lying to myself. And you were right, last time we spoke here: we have to be honest with ourselves."
I take a moment to process what she's saying while she takes some deep breaths to calm herself down. She's almost talked herself to the point of tears already.
"So… You want to put this to a stop forever, huh?" I ask.
"Yes. I'm so sorry, Randy. I know this isn't something you want to hear," she replies, and just like that, she's about to cry again.
"Hey, hey, don't cry. It's not my favorite thing to have to stomach, but even right now I know it's better than if you had let me go on thinking there was a chance when you knew there wasn't. It's better to put this to bed right away if you're sure."
Even so, she starts sniffling, so I get out of my chair and kneel in front of hers so we can share an awkwardly positioned hug. It's not comfortable, but she holds on tightly to my back and buries her face in my shoulder, so I'm kinda stuck there for a little while.
I would later reflect how strange it was that I was the one comforting her while she was the one rejecting me.
"You know, in a way, it's kind of a load off my mind, I guess," I say.
"Whht dh yhu mhen?" she asks my shoulder.
"It's just been kinda hard. Spending time with you, I mean. There was always this sense that folks were watching us, I guess. Waiting to see what would happen, maybe. Or just not enjoying the tension. Maybe that can change."
She lifts her face enough to speak properly. "That's been the worst of it. I've missed you so much these past two months. Of course, Lissa has been there for me, and I've been keeping myself busy, so I haven't just been wasting away, but… I don't know, you always had this talent to pull a smile out of me even when things were at their worst. Who else would be sitting in a Plegian prison cell and think to start singing just to irritate the guards? What kind of person can still find something to smile about in a situation like that? Being your friend has made me so happy. And this past month, with the Exalt's and Frederick's injuries and the dampened spirits overall, I've needed you more than ever. But it always felt like you were needed elsewhere. And even when you weren't, it was so… stilted. I just want things to be okay between us again. And I hope by telling you what I've been thinking, maybe we can get back to that. Perhaps not right away, but eventually."
"I understand. I've been feeling the same way. I'm always able to count on you when the chips are down, but I miss being able to just spend time with you." We finally release each other, and I sit back on the ground in front of her chair. "Really, thanks. It does kinda hurt to know you don't feel that way about me, but I guess I already knew that. It's better to just… let it go, right?"
"I think so. I just wanted to clear this up before we left for Ylisse. I have a feeling I might need you more than ever in the coming weeks. Especially when the time comes to return to Themis," she says.
"I'm always here for you if you need it. I'm sure you know that by now," I reply.
"I know you are. It's good to have one thing I can count on for sure in these uncertain times."
I surprise myself by sleeping fairly well. No nightmares or anything. For once, my conscience doesn't seem to want to bother me today.
"You've heard the reports by now, I assume?" Aventine asks Mustafa's 'ace'.
"I have. General Mustafa has been arrested. I heard the men discussing it today."
"As much as it pains me to say it, we cannot allow ourselves to be swayed from our goal. The only reason Gangrel would make his arrest public is to draw us out. He's counting on us making a mistake in our haste to rescue him," Aventine says. "Your task is the same as before. If you can get close enough to strike, don't hesitate. Gangrel's not the best fighter in the world, but he's skilled with that Levin sword. He got a taste of battle in the latter years of Gideon's War, after all."
"I know. The moment an opportunity presents itself, I will cut him down."
"And try to come back alive, if you can. It would pain me to learn that we've lost yet another comrade in pursuit of our dream."
"I will make my survival my second priority, then."
"All I ask is that you not throw your life away with a rash assassination attempt. Get close. Regain his trust. He's sure to be skeptical of anyone he hasn't had under his personal command recently, with so many pockets of resistance cropping up among his forces."
"There's no need to worry. My first brush with death has taught me caution. General Mustafa trusted me enough to call me his ace. I will not let him down. But in return, I want your assurance that you'll put resources toward rescuing him just as soon as you can."
"Of course. I want to see him come back to us alive just as much as you do. Now, you should go. There's sure to be movement soon, and you need to be back in Golgotha before they leave," Aventine says, holding out his hand to help the ace onto his wyvern.
The ace waves off the help and pulls himself up single-handedly. He hooks himself into his custom harness with practiced efficiency, then knocks a heel into his wyvern's side. "All the best, Lord Aventine. Kinba, let's go." He takes off with incredible speed, blowing Aventine's hat off as he flies away. The wyvern screeches a shout of joy that fades into the distance as she finally stretches her wings again.
The old man sighs as he picks it up off the ground. "These young people have such vitality. Makes me feel all the older."
The door to the west wing of the manor bursts open, and Henry stumbles outside.
"Did I miss him? Is he already gone?" he asks urgently.
Aventine nods. "I'm sorry, but yes. He just left."
Henry looks downcast for a moment, but perks back up almost unnaturally quickly. "Well, I wanted to tell him bye, but I guess I'll have to settle for saying hello twice when he comes back."
Aventine forces a laugh. "Of course, Henry. Just as soon as he returns."
If Robin looked like she was in a bad mood yesterday, today she looks like someone just told her they ran over her dog.
"Is it really still about the chart?" I ask, trying and failing to mask the incredulity in my tone.
"It might seem silly to you, but I really wanted to find it. I stayed up most of the night looking for it. It was nice of Gaius to help me, but I sti–"
"Hold up, you made Gaius help you too?"
"No! I wouldn't do that. He offered to help me find it. He said he felt bad about…" she catches herself, "well, it doesn't matter. Anyway, we had a little spat yesterday because of something I said, but he came to me and we exchanged apologies. As a show of good faith, he helped me look for it. Of course, it was to no avail. And now we're about to leave Ný Von without it. Great. I'll have to start it from scratch. And who knows who ended up with it. Gods, I'll be mortified if that chart's contents go public," Robin explains, slapping her thighs in frustration.
Someone knocks on the door to the command wagon.
"It's open," Robin calls, still sounding quite terse.
I'm a little surprised when Miriel of all people comes in. "Forgive the intrusion, Robin. I believe this belongs to you." She holds out a very familiar looking scroll of paper to Robin, who snatches it up in an instant.
"You found it? Thank the gods. And thank you, Miriel. Where did you find it?" Robin asks.
"In point of fact, I didn't. Kellam did. He spent a few hours trying to get your attention yesterday so that he could give it back to you. He said he had to give up eventually, but that it might go better if I tried giving it back instead."
While I cackle in delight in the corner, Robin turns a very satisfying shade of crimson. "W-well, please tell him I said thanks. And sorry, as well."
"I will relay your messages when I next see him. However, if I may, I wish to give my thoughts on the validity of the contents of your chart. While much of what you've hypothesized is well-grounded in readily observable behavior, there is also much that appears to be baseless conjecture. For example, what reason do you have to think that Ricken and Tharja–"
"OKAY, THANKS MIRIEL. BYE," Robin politely shouts as she shoos Miriel out the door, shutting it firmly behind her. She instantly whirls on me, still laughing in my corner. "And what do you think is so funny?" she demands.
"Literally every word of that exchange, actually," I wheeze. "Ricken and Tharja? Are you serious? They've never even spoken, I'm pretty damn sure!"
"I will not be entertaining any further discussion of the contents of this chart," she says sharply, crossing back to her table and stuffing the chart under all the others in the crate on the tabletop.
"Aww, come on, lemme see it. We can gossip over which boys we think are the cutest~" I say, walking over her side. "My personal vote is for Virion. That cravat is sooo studly, don't you think?"
She's not entertained. "First off, no. Second, also no. And third, not even close. Not even top five."
"Ooh, so you do have a list. Come on, who's the finest male specimen in the Shepherds?"
"Sure as shit isn't you, if that's what you're wondering," she growls.
"Are you suuure? I even trimmed by beard and my hair a bit to console myself after Maribelle formally rejected me last night." That's actually true. I never did make time to go into town and buy more clothes, but I did find a pair of scissors and a mirror in one of the bathrooms, so I worked my face over a bit.
"I hadn't noticed. Wait, what? What happened?" The irritation drops, and intrigue takes its place.
"Oh, yeah. I thought I had mentioned it already. Maribelle and I talked, and we agreed we are never, ever, ever, ever~ getting back together. It was… unpleasant in the moment, but I think it will have been a good thing. Hopefully. That's what I'm telling myself for now, anyway. Better than moping about it, as much as I love a good mope."
"I mean, it's good that you're seeing the silver lining, but… well, I know you care about her a lot. Are you okay? I didn't think she'd do something so… dramatic, I guess."
"Yeah, I think I'll be fine. It's hardly the first time a girl has shot me down, after all. So you can go ahead and cross out that question mark or whatever you had written in your chart about us," I reply.
For a moment she looks irritated as I bring up the chart again, but sympathy quickly wins out again. "Would that all people could take rejection so well, I suppose."
"Yeah." How the hell am I meant to respond to that? Who gets praise for taking rejection well? That's hardly a marketable skill. We're silent for a moment. I idly poke around a little wooden figure on her map of the continent. I think it's the one that represents the Shepherds. It's the blue one, in any event.
"Here," she says suddenly.
When I look back at her, her arms are outstretched. She looks a little embarrassed, and she isn't quite meeting my eye.
"Sorry?"
"I'm offering a hug. You've hugged me plenty of times when I had worries or bad stuff on my mind, so I'm returning the favor. So come get your friendly sympathy hug."
"...If I wait to give you that hug, will you hold that pose indefinitely?"
"Going once. Going twiiiice~"
"Fine." I close the one-step gap between us and claim my friendly sympathy hug. It's a good hug. She smells like lemons, which makes me realize I haven't smelled any citrus since I first came to this world. Makes me think of my room back in America, since I used to use lemon-scented wipes to clean it. That's trippy. I've been doing a good job not thinking much about that life these past few months.
"Uh, Randall?" Robin asks. "You alright?"
I let go promptly. "Oh, yeah, sorry. You just… well, you… You know what, nevermind. It's nothing."
She raises a brow. "Doesn't sound like nothing to me. Come on, what's up?"
"You just smell nice, that's all," I reply, feeling my face start to burn.
She grins. "Oh yeah? I got to use the royal bath house yesterday, and I used this fancy imported soap they had there. I thought it smelled pretty. I don't usually get to be, you know… girly? It was fun. Lissa used it too, so you could say I got to smell like a princess, transitively speaking." She flicks one of her twintails over her shoulder. "Maybe I should have you call me Your Highness for the rest of the day."
"I don't even call Lissa that," I say, "and she actually is a princess."
"Fine, fine," she waves a hand dismissively. "Buzzkill."
"Though speaking of, I think I want to pay Emmeryn a visit. I haven't been to see her since before we got back to Ný Von. I want to see how she's been doing lately. Frederick too," I say.
"Alright. Have fun," she replies.
"I'm sure I will, Your Highness."
I hear her blow a raspberry at me as I open the command wagon door and am greeted with an unwelcome blast of icy wind. I am so ready to leave this ninth circle of Hell bullshit behind.
When I enter the medical wagon, I'm greeted with the sweetest sound I think I could have asked for.
"H-hello," Emmeryn says.
"Randy! Guess what!" Lissa all but squeals as I come in. "Guess what!"
I can't help but laugh at her display of uninhibited glee. "I think I can guess, actually. Hello, Emmeryn." The Exalt smiles when she hears me repeat her greeting back to her.
"This is SO GREAT!" The poor princess is practically jumping up and down. "Oh my gods!"
"Good morning, Randy," Maribelle says. It's only now that I notice her sitting near the front of the wagon, checking on Frederick's legs. "As you can see, we're all in quite a chipper mood today. The Exalt has started to regain some grasp on language, at least enough to manage hellos and goodbyes. She also seems to consistently understand when she is being spoken to, though whether she actually understands the content of what she's told or to what extent is not yet clear. Even so, progress is progress, no?"
"It sure as hell is," I say, my cheeks already aching from the force of the grin now plastered on my face. In the face of all this uncertainty, this really is a relief.
It's not much, but it's proof that some things are getting better all the time.
A/N: So I'm a big doo doo brain, as I'm sure most of you are aware. But this time it's because I forgot to tell you guys when I put the last chapter up about the COOLEST thing that's happened relating to BaRD in a long while: the story officially has a TVTropes page dedicated to it now! Thanks to the efforts of Mixed Valence, you can now check out some of the stories tropeyness by checking out the link available on my profile page (because good God does FFN not like me trying to put a link in the chapter itself)!
Of course, I also have to thank MV for his help with sharpening up my chapter and keeping it nice and smooth. Earthborne is due for another update quite soon, so be sure to give it a look-see. And while we're on the subject of impending updates, NotTheArchitect will be updating The Divine Age in fairly short order as well, and I can say without reservation that it's already going to be his best chapter yet. And here is your Mixed Valence out of context quote of the week: "I know I shouldn't poke them. But I'm tempted. God I'm tempted."
I can also finally announce that I've got a talented artist on the horn for this cover image idea. I won't disclose further details at this time, as the image is still in the works, but suffice to say, I'm exceedingly excited. Tremble in anticipation, mortals!
As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!
P.S. To that one guest (you know who you are): ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)