Birth and Re-Death
Chapter 30: If You Were From Where I Was From
I felt kind of guilty the first time I noticed her. In all the cold and the craziness and my own extremely busy schedule, I just never took note of her, even though I'm sure she's been with us (or at least with the khans) pretty much ever since we left Golgotha. I mean, she's a very private person, and in that big-ass cloak she's using to stave off the cold, you could just about miss the person inside entirely, but that's still no excuse to just ignore her.
Anyway, that's the backdrop for my decision to quicken my pace to join Olivia and finally introduce myself. Unfortunately, it seems her cloak blocks a lot of her hearing, so when I get fairly close and say, "Hi there, my name's Ra– ech!" I'm rudely interrupted with a panicked flying elbow to the nose. I drop to my knees as my eyes instantly water and I hold my nose to prevent too much blood from spilling out.
"Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry, you just startled me is all!" Olivia yelps, seemingly torn between wanting to help somehow and not wanting to stand too close to a bleeding stranger. "Do you… I mean, what can I do to help?"
My stinging, dripping nose throbs, and I do my best to maintain my patience. "Let's start with agreeing not to hit me again," I reply, my voice muffled by my hand covering my face.
"I didn't mean to! It was just… oooh, I'm sorry!" She's so damn sincere in her apology that I feel my spite waning already.
I decide it's not a big enough deal to waste any vulnerary on (I don't think she broke anything, anyway), so I pick up a handful of snow and hold it against my nose. "Mby nambe is Ranbdall," I say, my plugged nose warping my speech. I stick out my right hand (the one unsullied by blood) to shake her hand. Though she looks at my hand like it's a snake for a moment, she eventually reaches out and gingerly shakes my fingers.
"N-nice to meet you, Randall. I'm Olivia," she says, barely above a whisper, throwing in an apologetic look for good measure. Sorry Olivia, but all your charming shy girl points went out the window when you concaved my face just now. "You're with the Shepherds, right?"
"Yub. Bretty good team to be a bart of. Glad to habe you with us," I reply. We come to the silent agreement to pause the conversation until I'm finished bleeding, which fortunately doesn't take too long. Though the folks behind us will probably be surprised by the bloody snowball I toss off the side of the trail if they see it.
"So you're a dancer, right? How long have you been at that?" I ask when I've snow-rinsed the remaining dried blood from my face.
"Well, ever since I can remember, really," she replies. "You're a healer, I heard. When did you decide to do learn to use staves?"
"A few months ago," I say with a shrug. "I woke up hungover in a bar one day with a healing staff I don't remember acquiring, so I figured, why not make use of it? And here I am."
"That's… quite the story. What did you do before that?"
"Not much of anything, really. I was coasting through life," I reply, which now that I think about it isn't really a lie. I've certainly been a hell of a lot more productive on a day-to-day basis here than I ever was back home.
"I see," Olivia says. "Well, it's good that you've found a purpose here with the Shepherds, then, isn't it?"
"You know, I think you've hit the nail on the head, Olivia."
We walk in silence for a while, with her keeping a wide enough berth that I'm reminded of my outsider status as far as she's concerned. Looks like this'll be a slower burn of an acquaintanceship than I'm used to.
"Chrom, I hope you're aware that we're not exactly pleased with you."
"What, because I told my soldiers our plan?" I reply incredulously. "Your military might run on troops blindly following commands, but in the Shepherds, we rely on mutual trust to carry the day."
Flavia pinches the bridge of her nose. "I'm aware, Chrom. But the whole point of having the private planning meeting in the first place was to keep the information discussed on a need-to-know basis. Why did your Shepherds all need to know the whole plan, down to the method for retaking the capital several weeks from now?"
"Because even if you're right and there is in fact someone sending messages outside of the group, I'm positive that person is not among the Shepherds. I didn't tell any of your soldiers, nor do I intend to. I told my friends the plan because they have all earned my trust many times over. If you want to keep your people in the dark, that's your business. But I had every right to share that plan with the Shepherds," I reply.
Basilio speaks up, in a much calmer tone than the khan regent. "We're not saying it wasn't your right. You're a leader to your people, same as we are to ours. We're just trying to make sure you're tempering your impulses with caution. The Shepherds haven't done anything to call your decision to trust them into question, but that's not to say they never will. Just… our first priority is stopping King Gangrel, and that means making sure this plan to retake the capital goes off without a hitch. We're only looking out for you. We don't mean to condescend."
I've been thinking a lot about what Randall told me after we rescued Emm. "You brought us into the Shepherds so that we can protect people. What sort of Shepherds would we be if we couldn't even protect our leader from the worst of himself? You can count on us, Chrom." If there's anything the past few months have taught me, it's that I can't do this alone. Nor would I want to anymore.
"Your concern is appreciated, Basilio. But I have to trust in my friends if I'm to rely on them to take back my home. And to me, that means not leaving them in the dark as to what we're doing or where we're going. It's not like I'm trying to undermine you two or anything. We just do things differently in Ylisse, is all," I say.
Basilio nods respectfully. "Fair enough. We just wanted to make our voices heard."
Flavia, still sounding a little sullen, adds, "If our plans get leaked, though, you've got a big 'I told you so' coming your way."
"If that's the price I pay, then so be it."
Trudging through the snow is as fun as it ever was, but fortunately with every passing day as we press farther and farther southeast, the snow lessens bit by bit. During that time, we make a few solid strides in important areas.
Firstly, Emmeryn's speaking ability only continues to improve with Lissa and Maribelle's help. Once greetings are mastered, it's only a matter of time before Emm starts relearning how to communicate some basic emotions and desires. Things like telling Lissa she's happy to see her, or that she's hungry, or, frequently, that she's cold. There's no sign of her prior memory returning, but to be honest that's more or less what I expected. It's far from ideal, but she's healthy, decently happy, and getting better every day. Lissa does her best to keep her exercising up as well, but frankly in weather like this, that takes an understandable backseat.
Frederick is also getting used to his new way of life. For one thing, his arms are getting seriously jacked, as if they weren't already. His shoulders and traps start looking like an NFL player's as he gets used to pulling himself around every day. Maribelle and Lissa help him exercise his legs as best they can, but it's pretty much inevitable that his leg muscles will atrophy over time. Because it's not technically an injury, there's nothing healing magic can do to help prevent it or even slow it. Even so, he's not getting discouraged, and instead focuses on the things he still can do without working legs. Donny also fine-tunes the harness to the point where Frederick can pretty much ride without worry. He's a little stiff in the saddle, but in his experimental sparring sessions with Chrom, he seems to be adjusting well. Overall, he too is definitely getting better by the day. Most heartwarming of all is watching him watch Emmeryn's recovery. He draws so much inspiration from her that he's become a bottomless well of superhuman effort. He really wasn't kidding when he said he was going to do everything he could to show her all over again how much he cares for her.
I haven't really been to many combat practice sessions due to my own busy training schedule, but from what I hear, people are starting to develop some serious skills. Lon'qu is impressing everyone with his speed with the blade, getting frequently compared to a whirlwind of steel. It's sounding like that might be what Astra looks like in person. I'll have to see that for myself.
Meanwhile, Gregor has been consulting with Anna about how to integrate healing into his style. I always assumed Sol was going to be a ridiculous fantasy and probably not actually exist, because how could hitting someone with your weapon actually heal your own wounds? Turns out I'm just an ignorant jackass though, because Sol is apparently real, and Gregor and Anna are working full tilt to make it possible for him to pull off. With Gregor being the professional combatant and Anna being at least a relative authority on healing, they make a pretty good team. I've also noticed Chrom occasionally sitting in with them, trying to work out how to align one's weapon with the ambient magic in the air as it makes a cut.
I always kind of knew about ambient magic, because of course magic doesn't just come from nowhere, and staff manufacturers and tome scribes harness this magic to produce potent magical tools, but I hadn't really thought about the use of a weak magical conduit (like a sword, axe, or lance) to channel that magic directly into self-healing. Apparently it involves being extremely precise with your angle and direction as the weapon is used to strike to attract some of the ambient magic focused around your target. Magic kind of likes to group around stuff, rather than floating freely through the air, and living things are all major conduits for ambient magic. So it follows that you can access a lot of it by hitting another living thing, like a human or their mount. Or a tree, probably, but I'll bring that up with them when they actually get the basics of Sol down I guess. Anyway, that's in the works, which is exciting stuff.
Oh, and a few of us have ranked up! Well, sort of. In real life it's not all exciting and whooshy-whooshy, but it does involve getting newer, better equipment and training with a wider range of weapons. We stop in a mountainside town a few dozen miles north of the Longfort and find a place that specializes in combat armor, so a good number of Shepherds get re-outfitted with nice new duds.
Lon'qu gets himself a nice set of Chon'sin-imported lacquer armor. It's not the strongest stuff in the world, but it's a hell of a lot better than any fabric and it's impressively light. He also gets into the habit of keeping a few swords of different sizes and makes strapped to his person at all times. In short, he looks every bit the textbook swordmaster.
Stahl and Sully both get their armor worked over and spiffed up to suit their needs. Sully seems to be leaning toward the paladin route, with stronger but unobtrusive armor and an improved shield (and some actual shoulder armor, thank God. That was stressing me out), while Stahl goes all-out and adopts a heavy suit not unlike Frederick's outside of its dark green tint (apparently achieved with a sort of patina that gently oxidized the armor without damaging or corroding it), complete with a small armor shell for his shoulders. Fennec also gets re-outfitted to match her rider's heavyset style.
Gregor, Gaius, and Virion leave on their own and come back decked out in new sets of armor. Gregor's gotten himself some nice metal armor and a proper shield, but surprisingly, he doesn't look much anything like the Awakening heroes I'm used to. If anything, he more resembles a Fates hero, combining thick fabrics at the joints with metal plates and a few leather supplements. Looks pretty fuckin' sweet, actually. Gaius got himself a nice set of dark-tinted leather armor, looking quite dangerous even though it lacks those fuck-you arm spikes I was expecting from the assassin class. Maybe he'll have to add those later? Virion seems to have chosen fashion over form, as even though he's bought a round buckler and a rapier for himself, he hasn't done much in the way of armor aside from a metal chest piece and some plates for his left shoulder and forearm. He still wears the cravat, with the bottom kinda tucked underneath the top of his chest piece. I'll begrudgingly admit it looks pretty cool.
I think Kellam got himself a new armor shell? He seemed happy about something when he came back from the market, but I didn't get a good look at him.
Meanwhile, lots of the Shepherds are expanding their horizons to get more well-rounded on the battlefield. Sumia and Cordelia are both receiving lessons from Robin on casting Thunder magic. While Gaius starts learning the basics of archery from Virion, both Vaike and Lon'qu insist on Khan Basilio teaching them instead. At the same time, Virion is learning rudimentary swordplay from Gaius and occasionally Chrom, who is himself a trained court fencer. After sessions with the latter, Virion usually looks pretty much ready to die. And after my insistence that she is a great teacher (and my refusal to become a teacher myself), Maribelle eventually agreed to teach Miriel the fundamentals of staff magic. Reportedly, it's not catching on as well as it did for me ("The woman barely seems to feel anything for anyone outside of her fiancé on an emotional level! How am I meant to teach empathy to a fully grown woman?").
Oh, and I got some goodies of my own! I actually almost forgot to buy clothes again, but when Cordelia heard that I'd gone all this time with just one set of clothes, she took it upon herself to pull some money from the Shepherds' supply fund and buy three supplementary outfits (pants, shirt, socks and underwear, what a saint!) for me, as well as a brown leather jacket that reminds me a bit of the jacket I wore through most of college. It's hardly the same exciting stuff that everyone else is getting, but the gesture of buying that stuff for me is certainly appreciated.
"I couldn't very well just stand idly by and let you waste away in the same clothes every day, could I?" she explains herself when I ask why she went to all the trouble. "Besides, it wasn't difficult once I obtained your measurements from Robin's charts."
"Robin let you see her charts?"
"At first she seemed reluctant, but when I explained that I was trying to do you a favor, she changed her mind. I suppose she's rather private about those charts, huh?"
"Yeah, she really is," I reply. Robin, did you go as far as to compromise your charts' sanctity just to make this happen? I'm being pulled into her next matchmaking scheme, aren't I?
I will tentatively go along with it for now. You know, just to see where this leads.
In the end, with all the armor and weapons we bought in one go, we exhaust a lot of our war funds, and a few Shepherds now owe Anna a pretty penny in their own right. Still, seems as good a use of our funds as any, provided we leave ourselves enough for food and water and stuff. We've been at war for a while now, of course, but now it feels like we're going to war 'for real,' I guess. Rescuing Emm was important, but that was an incredibly rushed and sort of haphazard extraction operation, rather than a formal campaign against the enemy. This is definitely the latter now. I think that when people start wearing new, better armor and practicing new skills, it makes this feel like a more deliberate invasion to take our home back.
Oh, and of course, my training with Tharja and meditation with Libra both continue as well. As I get better at keeping track of where I am, bit by bit, my sessions with Tharja become less and less taxing. She does report that my magic lacks the power it used to have, but frankly I'll take that deal every time. I'm starting to notice when my heart rate reaches the point of what I've come to recognize as anger or rage, and I can dissociate myself from that physiology more effectively. My body stays mad, but my mind is standing just outside, keeping watch on my body but not partaking of the anger nearly as much. It's not perfect, not by a longshot, but I start to understand what it will feel like when I do eventually get it down. Any progress is good progress, as far as I'm concerned.
For her part, Robin bought herself a nice Levin sword. She looks very pleased with the thing, and has a habit of unsheathing it just to "inspect" (read: admire) the blade when we're on the road. Her tomes are nice, but I can tell nothing does it for her like her zigzaggy zappy sword.
A few days after we leave the smithing town behind, I decide I should probably go ahead and have the conversation I've been wanting to avoid for a while.
"Hey Robin, I wanted to bring something up with you," I say after taking a quick peek outside to make sure we have no unwanted listeners.
"Mmhmm?" she replies absently, running a gloved fingertip down her blade.
I take a seat in one of the chairs on the other side of the war table. "It's about the locations you and the others picked for resupplying once we're in Ylisse. Specifically, it's about Lord Aventine's family's manor."
"What about it?"
"I know we have it listed as our second option, and it may very well be still defended against Plegian attack. But, well… we can't go there."
She finally looks up at me. "Why not?"
"Because Aventine is a traitor. Was, maybe. I don't think we've gotten any word on whether he's still alive."
Now she's sitting up. "You're right, we don't know where he is. What do you mean, he's a traitor?"
"He's the reason we ran into Plegian soldiers at Breakneck Pass over the summer. Didn't it strike you as odd that we'd encounter the enemy so far to the east and in such an obscure location? That's because Aventine was an informant for the Plegians and sold us out," I say.
She nods, her expression almost alarmingly neutral. "We have long suspected that someone betrayed us back at Breakneck. Why do you think it was Aventine?"
I prepared for a question like that. "I spoke with him before the Plegians appeared. He looked inordinately nervous. Constantly looking around as if he expected something, even though we told everyone the pass should have been safe. When I asked what he was so nervous about, he immediately denied knowing anything. I hadn't accused him of anything per se, but he was super defensive anyway. And of course, right before the fight began, he ran off out of nowhere, and no one has seen him since. Isn't it obvious? He's the one who betrayed us."
God, am I really still having to do this? It would be so much easier if I could just say 'it's cuz I played the game, obviously.' But at this point, isn't it too late for that?
Well, whatever. Looks like it's working. "I didn't know you had talked to him. If that's the case, that does cast him in a suspicious light. And of course, even if you're wrong about him, there's no real harm in simply going to the Anchorage Estate instead, assuming the pegasus training facility is out. I'll bring it up with Chrom later and see what he thinks," she says. She slowly leans back to her original position. "Next time though, I hope you'll tell me something that potentially important in a more timely manner."
"It never came up, I guess," I reply with a shrug. If only you knew how much important stuff I haven't told even you, Robin.
"Well, just for good measure, are there any other potentially important tidbits you're hanging onto that 'haven't come up'?" she asks with obviously feigned nonchalance.
Is there any way I can tell her any of it? How much would it even help? We've already departed pretty heavily from the game script, much to what I'm sure would be Future Randall's chagrin. Does the fact that I know what could have been help anyone if I talk about it? Does any of it mean anything anymore if it's not even going to happen that way?
"Don't think too hard about it, now," Robin interrupts my thoughts. She's got an eyebrow cocked up and her arms crossed. She's put the Levin sword down on the table.
"Sorry. There's a lot I have to think about. I don't think I know anything that would help us, though," I say eventually.
She stares at me for a few uncomfortable seconds. "Randall, if there's something you want me to know, you can say so."
"I know," I reply automatically. I've heard that same kind of thing so many times in my life that the response is instinctive at this point. "I know," I say again, for real this time. But I can't. The moment someone knows, that's it. I can never be just another one of the Shepherds anymore.
A young Plegian soldier yanks the arrow out of his target's skull with a sickening schlick.
"I told 'im to stop, and 'e kept running," the soldier explains as he hears another soldier approach behind him.
"Hey, I was just gonna tell you it was a good shot. Who is this guy? He doesn't look Ylissean, but he's not Plegian and he's definitely not Feroxi," the other soldier says.
"Valmese, by the look of 'im. No idea what 'e'd be doing out here, though. Hold on, what's this, now?" The archer pulls a roll of parchment out of the small satchel at the dead man's waist.
"What's that you've got?" the other soldier asks.
"'Old your bleeding 'orses, I'm looking," the archer snaps as he unfurls the parchment. "'To my dearest,' uh… Church. Shersh? Chair-Chee? Whatever, it's to someone named this word right 'ere," he points to the word 'Cherche' in the letter's greeting. "'Progress due southeast proceeds apace. Expect arrival at resupply checkpoint within the week. Scout reports still incon…' whatever, the reports are something, 'regarding which of three candidate locations will be selected. Potential locations include pegasus knight training… something along the Sedgar provincial border, the Ferrieder barony, and the Anchorage estate. Expect arrival at Ylisstol within the month. Further updates to come when Ylisstol is liber… lib… is done with. Yours very truly, Duke Virion de Laval of the Noble 'ouse Virion, the Fifth of that Name.' Well, this guy's certainly got a big 'ead, don't 'e?"
The other soldier gives the back of the archer's head a smack. "You dolt! Don't you know what that is? That's gotta be the Shepherds' plans! We just intercepted a really important message!"
"We?"
"And now we gotta get that to the bigwigs at the capital, right quick!" He grabs his companion by the collar and drags him to a standing position. "Come on, we don't have time to lose! Imagine the promotions, the pay raises, the benefits we're sure to get if we give them something like this!"
"If we 'ad all that, imagine the GIRLS!"
"NOW you're thinking straight! Let's pull the finger out and get moving!"
We eventually make it to the Feroxi-Ylissean border. It's still quite chilly out, as it's getting pretty close to wintertime, but it's a damn sight nicer than the weather up north.
Nice enough, in fact, that on a particularly warm day after marching through the Wolf Forest, I decide I will in fact go take an impromptu bath in that pond over there. It's a good distance from camp, situated in a sunny clearing. There's a large boulder that sticks up near the middle of the pond, and I can make out in the impressively clear water that there's a little shelf of rock jutting out from the boulder under the water that I can stand on while I clean myself off.
Armed with some nice scented soap that I've decided to treat myself with, I check for anyone in the surrounding area and shed my clothes, rolling them up into a neat little roll and stowing it next to a nearby tree.
"Ffffffuck that's cold," I can't help but mutter as I get into the water. Even so, it feels like a million bucks. Refreshing, bracing cold is so much nicer than miserable skin-ripping icy wind. Soap in hand, I swim the short distance to my little rock shelf and just bask in the revitalizing water for a while. You know how often I get to feel actually clean on the road? Just about never, that's how often. So I'm enjoying this while I can. I have a feeling it's all gonna go to hell in a handbasket when we get to Ylisstol. But for now, for this one peaceful moment, everything's–
A splash from the other side of the rock startles me into jumping. My hands automatically move to cover up the kids.
"Whozzat?" I call over my shoulder.
Someone yelps from the other side. "Oh gods, I'm so sorry! I should have checked on the other side of the boulder before I came in!"
Oh, fuck me. That's gotta be Cordelia's voice. Why does this kinda shit always happen to me?
"Well, I'm not exactly decent at the moment anyway, so it's probably good you didn't," I reply.
"A-ah. I am too at this point, unfortunately," she says sheepishly.
Despite the chill of the water, I'm sure I've gone positively scarlet. How the hell am I meant to deal with this? I don't exactly want to get ousted from my bath if I'm being honest, even if it's Cordelia. I had to pull some strings to get soap this nice, after all, and by God I'm gonna use it.
"Well, you're welcome to hang out on your side of the rock, but I'm gonna finish bathing over here," I say after a long moment of painful silence.
"I see. In that case, I'll do the same over here. And we are in agreement that we will stay exclusively on our own sides of the boulder, right?" she asks.
"What kind of guy do you take me for? I just wanna feel clean for once," I reply.
"Fair enough."
A couple minutes of the most tangible silence I've ever felt pass us by while we both handle our business. Eventually, I decide to ask something I've always wanted to know since the first time I played through the game.
"Hey Cordelia, mind if I ask something?" I call tentatively.
After a moment's hesitation, she calls back, "What is it?"
"When did you fall for Chrom?"
A couple panicked splashes later, she replies, "Y-you know about that?"
"Everyone and their dog does."
"They do?"
"Oh yeah. It's the Shepherds' least secret secret. Only person who doesn't know is Chrom himself, and it's not for lack of us trying. He's just completely oblivious to the hints we positively hurl at him."
"Why didn't anyone tell me they knew?"
"I can't speak for everyone, but I always assumed you knew that people must know. You're like the least subtle person I know when it comes to that stuff. Always sighing when he walks by, or getting all flustered when you have to talk to him, or whatever." I know she can't see my shrug, but I throw up my shoulders anyway.
"Oh gods, this is so embarrassing…" she moans. Frankly I'm surprised she didn't say something like that when she first realized I was here, but whatever.
"The question stands, though. When did you get so crazy about him?"
"Heavens, it wasn't long after I first met him. He's always had this sort of pull on me. I first met him when I was just a girl of twelve or so. I was still in riding training, so I was out in the stables, brushing my pegasus down after our afternoon exercises, when all of a sudden, this blue-haired boy bursts into the stable. 'Hey, you there! I need help. Can you take me somewhere on that pegasus of yours?' he said. He didn't even tell me who he was."
"Your first interaction with Chrom was him asking to bum a ride off you?"
"I suppose you could put it like that, yes."
"Forget that other thing then, I wanna hear this story now."
"Oh. Alright then. He had just escaped from his tutor and wanted me to take him to, of all places, Themis. I couldn't fathom why, and I only marginally knew the way there, but he just had this look that told me everything was going to work out. So I agreed to take him.
"On the way there, he explained that his younger sister Lissa had been taken there some weeks prior to begin her training to be a healer, and he wanted to see her. I gather he'd never been away from her for that long before, and his big brother instincts kicked in. It's been probably ten years since then, but I haven't forgotten the way he held onto me the whole way there." She sighs wistfully.
"Did you make it to Themis?" I ask, hoping to derail that particular train of thought.
"Of course. It took every bit of a day, maybe a day and a half, but he'd planned for that and brought some food and water. I don't think he planned to get turned away at the door by an elderly but very firm maid when he demanded to be allowed to see his sister, though."
"Oof," I chime in, stifling a laugh.
"Oof is right. So he convinced me to stay just a while longer, and that night he watched the windows of the various bedrooms in the manor until he saw a girl with long, blonde hair pass by one of them. He assumed it was Lissa's room, so he threw a few pebbles at it to try and get her attention."
"I'm guessing it wasn't Lissa's room?"
"You guess correctly," Cordelia replies, now laughing a bit herself.
"And how did Maribelle take it?"
"Not well. She identified the culprit through her window, then wasted no time in storming down the stairs, coming outside, and demanding to know why a young man was stalking her in the middle of the night. He did his best to explain himself, but she wasn't hearing it. She gave him a firm slap to the face and retired to her room with a warning to not let her catch him snooping around again. That was the first time either of us met Maribelle."
"And you didn't step in to save him?"
"I mean, we were in the wrong, technically. I'd been feeling guilty the whole time, truth be told, but he's just… difficult to say no to. Unless you're Maribelle, apparently."
Maybe that's what Chrom meant when he said he wanted someone to keep him out of conflict. He wants someone who can tell him no. When I think of it that way, it's hard to think of a better person to fit the bill.
"So in other words, you were smitten pretty much right away," I say.
"...Yes."
"Damn. That's a crush with some serious longevity. I can respect that." And now comes the part I think we're both kind of dreading. "Alright, I'm going over to that tree by the south side of the pond to get my clothes back. Do me a favor and don't look?"
"Alright. My clothes are right next to the pond, so don't turn around once you're over there."
"Got it," I reply. And so we abandon the Rock of Mutual Modesty and make a break for our respective clothing piles. I try not to allow myself to look anywhere but right at the clothes themselves as I make a beeline for them and rush to yank my pants back on.
"Come on, Gaius, it's over here, I saw it when I was flying ahead on scout du–whoa!"
Oh God. I should have seen this coming. I really do live in an anime.
"Hehehey there, Bear," Gaius laughs as he and Sumia come through the thick trees and see the pair of us very clearly rushing to get clothed. "We can come back, if you need a minute."
Cordelia answers before I get the chance. "That will not be necessary, thank you very much. We were simply bathing. Separately. On opposite sides of the boulder. On accident. I want to hear both of you right now say out loud that you understand what I just told you."
"Y-yes Cordelia!" Sumia squeaks instantly.
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Mother," Gaius chokes out between giggles.
"Good. Now good day to the three of you," she says stiffly, then storms out of the clearing in what appears to be a random direction.
While Gaius continues laughing, I growl, "Glad you got such a kick out of that, Gaius. I'll be lucky if she ever speaks to me again after this."
"Hold up, was she telling the truth?" he asks when he's calmed down.
"Yes! Obviously! Or did you miss the 'I really really love Chrom' patch sewed on her forehead?"
"Well, I hope you'll forgive a guy for making a few assumptions when we happen upon a couple of hastily dressing young hellions coming out of a shared bath," he replies.
"I mean yeah, but that doesn't exactly help me, does it? And what were you two doing out here? Something equally scandalous, I don't doubt." I cross my arms indignantly.
He points a finger at me. "Right you are, Bear." He continues in spite of Sumia's nonspecific yelps of protest, "Fancied a spot of skinny dipping in the pond, in point of fact. Far as I'm aware, that's still the plan. Right, Stumbles?" He looks back at her.
"G-Gaius! You agreed not to call me that anymore!" Sumia replies, face hidden in her hands.
"Right, right. Sorry, force of habit. Anyway, I suppose if it takes your mind off it, you're free to join us, Bear," he says with a smug grin.
While Sumia makes more protest noises, I raise a hand in refusal. "Thanks for the offer, but I'll pass. I just want to go hide in my bedroll for a while, actually." I wearily pull on my new jacket. "Have fun, you crazy kids. No babies."
Gaius gives me finger guns. Still don't know how that gesture developed here.
"Aversa, I have some questions for you," Gangrel says as the dark flier enters his throne room.
"What is it?" she replies, clearly either uninterested, tired, or both.
"For a number of years now, you and your fellow faithful in the Grimleal have been telling me over and over again how badly the people of Plegia want Ylisse to pay for the atrocities of Gideon's War. Is that still the case? Are the people still hungry for war?" he asks.
"Did I ever report any change in public opinion, my lord?"
"No, you didn't."
"Then it hasn't changed."
Gangrel narrows his eyes. "I'm not sure I like your tone, Aversa."
She finally looks him in the eye. "Forgive me, my lord. I've been rather occupied lately, what with this total war going on and all. It's been rather a drain on my time and energy."
"The war that you asked for, I remind you."
"What is this, my lord? Are you losing your grip? Thinking of backing out now, when you've nearly all the pieces in your hands? Are you so used to being the king of a downtrodden mess of a kingdom that success is too scary a concept for you?" Aversa snaps.
"Of course not! But my duty is to my people. I must give them what they demand. So I have to be sure that this war, no matter how difficult, is still what they desire. So that's what I need to know. These reports of soldiers throughout the kingdom abandoning their posts… Can you tell me that they're the exceptions, not the new rule?" Gangrel sinks slightly into his throne, consumed on all sides by the velvet-covered gold.
"I think you have it backwards, my lord. You are the king. You are the sovereign. You wear the crown. It's up to you to tell these simple-minded peasants what they want. Where you lead, the people follow. So lead them."
"Where I lead, they follow… Right. You're right, of course. And right now my people need me to lead them to Ylisse, to conquer it and claim the land that the blood of our fathers earned."
"Will that be all, my lord?" Aversa asks.
"Yes. I'm leaving tonight to make for Ylisse. General Campari will be holding down the fort here, so I urge you to keep an eye on things as well. The man is experienced, true, but old. Complacent, even. Just don't let things fall apart."
"Of course, my lord," Aversa replies, unsure if she can keep anything at all from falling apart. Herself included.
Unsurprisingly, Cordelia's been avoiding me (and Gaius and Sumia) like the plague for the past few days. Hardly her fault, so it's not like I'm mad or anything, but I'm not a fan of this arrangement. It has, however, allowed me to take my mind off that kind of frivolous stuff. Every day we get farther southeast, and it's only a matter of weeks until we reach the capital. I'm trying my best to keep focused on that, and on my training. So in that sense, the closest thing I have to a romantic interest putting me at arm's length has been an objectively good thing.
Things especially start feeling real when we get a report back from our scouts that the pegasus training facility is, as we feared, crawling with Plegian military. We have no choice but to divert our course east and keep trucking.
The following day, I'm walking alongside Stahl and Vaike, making some small talk, when I'm tapped on the shoulder by, to my surprise, Chrom.
"Can I speak with you in the command wagon, please?" he says.
"Uh, sure."
As we enter the wagon, he closes the door perhaps harder than necessary behind us. Robin is sitting at the table, but she doesn't say anything as we come in, so I gather she knew we were coming. Chrom gestures for me to sit in one of the chairs while he crosses to the other side of the table to stand next to Robin.
"So, I'm told you want us to pass up the Ferrieder barony. You think that Lord Aventine is the one who betrayed us at Breakneck Pass?" he asks, but it comes across as more of a challenge than a question.
"Yes to both. We should definitely avoid the area," I reply.
"Mind filling me in on why you think one of the most loyal longtime members of the Ylissean Royal Council is actually a traitor who would sell out his own Exalt?" I can tell I'm treading on thin ice in this conversation.
"I take it Robin explained what I saw and what I made of it?" I ask.
"She did. And I find it equal parts difficult to believe and even if true, not sufficient to condemn the man. Just because we never officially closed the case on who betrayed us, that doesn't mean you can point the finger at the only man who isn't here to defend himself."
"That's not the only evidence there is! I know he's the traitor, Chrom."
"I want to trust you, Randall. But this is beyond my willingness to accept at just your word. If you've got more evidence than you shared with Robin, by all means let's hear it. Because I don't take accusations of betrayal lightly. I didn't when Frederick was suspicious that it was you who was the traitor, nor do I now." I can't believe I let myself get tricked into sitting down. The way he's looking down at me from his standing position is classic intimidation. I was going to be an attorney; I should know this stuff!
Even so, I'm kind of stuck. I spoke without thinking. And worse, he's implicitly calling his decision to trust that I'm not the traitor into question. I have to say something now. But there's nothing else I can really tell them without just lying, and I think they'll be able to tell if I try that.
Maybe it really is time to tell someone the truth.
No. Not like this. Not when it's being forced out of me by circumstance. Maybe I will want to tell the whole truth at some point, but I won't use it as a bludgeon to defend myself.
"Chrom, I know this won't be what you want to hear. But there are things I can't talk about. Things I know that have been secret for a long time and must continue to be so. I know he's the one who betrayed us, but my evidence is within the scope of things I just can't talk about right now. I have to ask you to just trust me. It's not fair for me to put that on our leader like that, I know, but it's all I have. I've never done anything to undermine the Shepherds before, and I never will. You said yourself that you don't believe I could be a traitor. I'm not asking you to arrest his family. I'm just asking that we avoid any place he might have unlimited access to until after the war, when we can properly investigate. With me, there's nothing to investigate outside of myself and my actions. I have no history in this land, no property, no ties outside you all. But he's been around for a long while, and there are things to look into."
He continues to glare at me from above. "Just the other week I had it out with the khans because they didn't like the trust I was placing in my Shepherds. The last thing I want is to prove them right by failing to trust in you just because you're telling me something I don't want to hear. But I want your solemn word. Are you lying to me, Randall?"
I shake my head. "I'm not lying. I'm telling you everything that I think it's safe to tell you. Nothing more or less."
He watches my face for any signs of faltering, but I don't give him any. "Fine. I'm going to tell the scouts to change their destination before they leave for the wrong place, then."
"Okay. Thanks, Chrom," I say, a bit of a stutter finally creeping into my voice as I let out a long, relieved breath. He leaves and closes the door firmly behind him.
God, and I thought the silence with Cordelia the other day was unbearable.
"So, wanna tell me what that was all about?" Robin asks at last.
"Would that I could tell you," I sigh.
"Well, why not? What's so catastrophic a secret that you can't even let me know? We've already got our share of secrets, don't we?"
"Yeah, but this is different. This is something I haven't told anyone at all, and I never really intended to."
"What could it possibly be? Are you a former murderer or something?"
"No! It's nothing like that. It's… I dunno, Robin, I wouldn't even know where to begin."
"Is this what's been eating at you for a while now? It seems like there's been something you've been desperate to spit out."
"I mean, yeah. I don't like having to keep such a big secret. It eats at me. I want to feel like I'm one of the Shepherds, like I'm just like everyone else. But I'm not, and I'm afraid I never can be. It's that big of a deal."
"Randall, you're kinda freaking me out. Just tell me what's up," Robin pleads.
I don't want to meet her eye when she's looking at me like that. I end up looking at the tabletop instead. "I'm scared. I don't want to become an outsider forever, but I feel like I'm only welcome here because people don't know how different I really am."
"Look. I can't speak for everyone else. And you know I've always felt like an outsider to this group. If anything, it's thanks in part to you that I became as integrated as I did. You're part of the Shepherds, Randall. And even if your secret is as bad as you make it sound, I'm only asking you to tell me. You can trust me, even if you don't want to trust everyone else yet. And we've already got dirt on each other, so you know I don't have any reason to out you in any way."
She's right. I know she's right. And I've put this off for far too long.
"And you're sure?"
"Look at me." I do. The last time she looked this serious was when we mutually confessed our power to each other. "I'm absolutely sure. Tell me what's going on."
"Alright. I want you to trust me, okay? So I want you to know, before I say anything else, that nothing I am about to tell you is a lie. Okay?"
She nods. I take a deep breath.
"I'm not from around here. Like, really not from around here. Not from this world, I mean. I'm from a planet called Earth."
"...This planet is called Earth, Randall," Robin says.
"A different Earth. A really different one. One without Ylisse, or Plegia, or Ferox, or Valm. Or magic, or dragons, or naturally-occurring blue hair. One with incredible technology that you, that everyone in this world, would lose their minds to observe. With radically different cultures, different history, and from what I can tell, a lot more people.
"I'm from a country called the United States of America. It's a young country, relatively speaking. When I left, it was only around 250 years old. It's a republic, which means it's governed by elected officials that the public votes on, and they cycle in and out. Most of the countries in my time had systems at least kind of like that. We'd mostly done away with monarchies and other hereditary rule-based systems. I could talk your ear off about that, but I'll let that wait for now.
"I have a family. Parents, siblings, all still alive and happy, last I checked. I grew up in a happy, steady home, and I've been a student all my life. I was going to go to law school before I ended up here. That stuff I told everyone about being a wanderer all my life was bullshit. I was driving home from college for the summer one minute, and the next thing I really remember, I was waking up in a bar in Southtown, minutes before it got invaded by those Plegians and I met you all.
"Knowing that, you'd think I'd have been more freaked out after ending up here. But the fact is, I wasn't. And this is the part that's important: I've seen this world before. In my Earth, we have an already vast and ever-growing stockpile of stories from every culture in the world, and even worlds that aren't ours. The story of the Shepherds, if you can believe it, was one of them. The story of this very war was one of them. Now, we've gone impossibly far off-script by now, but back when we were at Breakneck, we really hadn't yet. So I know for a fact that Aventine is a traitor because I've seen it with my own eyes before. If I hadn't tipped him off to my knowledge and caused him to run off, you all would have watched as he would have asked that Vasto guy to take him safely to Plegia as per his prior arrangement with them, and Vasto would've killed the coward on the spot just out of spite. It was only my intervention at an idiotic moment that prevented this from being an open-and-shut case.
"And Emmeryn. In the story I knew, she was meant to die at Golgotha. She says her piece, then sacrifices herself to save the Shepherds and the Emblem, as well as dissuading the Plegians from further fighting. And it works. By now, according to the script, almost all of the Plegian military should have abandoned Gangrel by now, and we'd be going back to Plegia to cut him down and end the war. But I wanted to save her. And I think you were right; her survival must have been made known to the Plegians at large. That's why there's still so many that support Gangrel. So even though I tried to help, I can't help but think that maybe I just fucked everything up all the more. Frederick's paralysis shouldn't have happened either. That's another consequence of my mistakes. General Mustafa was supposed to die too, but I prevented that as well.
"And now we're so wildly off-script that I don't know what's going on anymore. From this point forward, I'm as lost as anyone."
There's a moment of silence.
"So yeah," I say after a nervous cough.
Robin finally speaks. "You know, in a way, as crazy as all this sounds, it doesn't… not make sense. It certainly answers a lot of my questions. It explains why you knew what Lissa's name was in our very first run at Southtown. It explains all the strangeness about Aventine's disappearance. It explains why you let Emmeryn fall before Rescuing her, so that she could still make her speech and try to pacify the Plegians. It explains a lot of things really neatly, actually. Not that it doesn't raise a hundred times more questions than answers."
Robin and I sit silently for a minute while the gravity of what I've just told her settles in. This is it. Can I still be a human to her, or is this where I lose that forever?
"Gods, I have so many questions. Where do I even start?"
"That's what I was saying. I don't know how to have this conversation at all. I will say this, though. Don't take this the wrong way, but there are some things about this world that I don't think I'll be sharing at this point. Even the survival of one woman has thrown things off so much. I'm going to be more careful from here on about how much departure from canon I plan to allow," I say.
She nods. "I understand. Do you mind if I ask something about this world anyway?"
"Sure."
"What do you know about me? Like, the stuff that I don't know."
Oh God. Would it be smart to tell her about Grima? About Validar?
"Well, for starters, it's worth mentioning that you're an amnesiac in my world's version of this story," I say.
"Not surprising, I suppose. What else?"
"Well, from what Tharja's told you, I'm sure you're aware that you're a Plegian."
"Mmhmm."
"And being that she was in with the Grimleal, you're obviously a former Grimleal as well."
"Right."
"I don't know a thing about your mom except that she loved you. Loved you enough to get you out of that crazy cult. As for your dad…"
"Is this one of those things you can't tell me?"
"I guess not. He's the leader of the Grimleal, Validar."
"I see. Honestly, that's not… terribly surprising, I suppose. Why did my mother want to leave?"
"You know that mark on your hand?"
"Yeah, what did Tharja call it? The Brand of the Defile?" She holds up her hand to inspect the mark.
"That's the one. It marks you as Grima's vessel. Your dad planned to use your body as a means for Grima to return to the work and, I dunno, annihilate it? I have no idea why your dad wanted that, but I guess everyone needs a hobby. Your mom decided she didn't want her kid to be consigned to a fate like that, so she got the heck out of there, with you in tow."
She takes a little longer to take that one in. "That all makes sense. Where is she now? Is she dead?"
"No idea. She never comes up again."
"I see. Do you know why or how I lost my memory?"
I don't think anyone in the Shepherds is ready to learn about time travel bullshit yet. "That's a spoiler, sorry. I can't talk about that one just yet."
Her eyelid twitches, but she quickly calms herself. "I see. But you do know?"
"Kind of? It was a pretty poor explanation, as I recall, but it was an explanation."
"And you'll be able to tell me at some point later on?"
"Yeah, for sure. I just don't want to mess things up by proliferating too much information too carelessly, you know?"
She pouts. "Fine. But I'm holding you to that."
"Fair enough." The fact that she's not actively angry with me is already really encouraging, honestly. I can handle a lightly frustrated pout.
She sighs. "Anyway, I have a lot more questions, not least of which are about your world, but I do want to stay as focused as possible on the battle ahead. Let's talk more about… all this, later, alright?"
"I think that would be awesome, actually," I say, finally allowing myself to breathe normally. "And I guess I want to check now that it's out there: I'm still a person to you?"
She shrugs. "As much as you ever were, I guess. I've always thought you were a weirdo. So that's not changing. Now there's just a better explanation for a lot of it."
I sigh in relief. "Yeah, that seems about right."
God, that was not a conversation I woke up thinking I was going to have today. I need a break.
"Oh, good to see you, Gangrel. How are you today?" Mustafa asks as Gangrel enters his cell in the dungeon.
"Shut your mouth unless it's to answer my questions," Gangrel snaps immediately. "Are you prepared to tell me what I want to know?"
"I think we both know the answer to that, Gangrel. I won't be selling out my family just to have the privilege of dying alongside them later. I'm under no illusion that you have any intention of letting me leave here alive."
Gangrel draws his sword. "Perhaps I should kill you here and now, then."
If Mustafa weren't still bound to the rack, he would shrug. "That is what you promised, after all. If you think it will help you."
Gangrel grits his teeth as he glowers at his obstinate prisoner. "I have never in my life had such a difficult person in confinement, and considering the volume of souls interred in these walls, that's saying something."
Mustafa smiles. "I suppose I should be honored, then."
Gangrel points the Levin sword threateningly at the general's face. "Don't force this on me, Mustafa. Don't think me so absent-minded that I've forgotten the kindnesses you did me when I first took the throne. You helped me then. You can still help me now. Don't you see that I'm fighting for our people? The people who suffered, died, and lost everything in the wake of Gideon's bloodlust must be avenged!"
Mustafa shakes his head solemnly. "No, Gangrel. No they don't. No one needs to be avenged."
"How can you say such a thing? You, who felt every stinging pain imaginable in that war!"
"That's how. I know what vendetta does. Where this path leads."
"I'm bound by the will of the people, Mustafa! My choice has been made for me! But yours hasn't. You still have a chance to save yourself." Mustafa can see the tip of the blade shaking in his face.
His heart breaks for the boy. If Gangrel kills him, he fears it might break the unstable mind of the king. But even so, his duty is to his family before any other man.
"The only one with the power to preserve or destroy my life is you, Gangrel. Surely you see that from where you stand," Mustafa says calmly.
Electricity crackles in Gangrel's blade. The general doesn't flinch.
Chrom may not have been happy about the decision to give Aventine's home a pass at the time, but I'm pretty sure even his sullenness melted at the sight of Sumia's face when she saw that her family's home has been left more or less untouched by the war so far. I've never seen someone smile that brightly before. Almost hurt my eyes to look at.
The place is, in a word, idyllic. It's situated near the border of the Wolf Forest, with thick and lovely trees hugging the west side of the property, while the east side has an open, slightly slanted meadow that reaches down to the small farming village in the east. Most of the farmers' fields are farther north, while the south side of the property has a few narrower streets — one from the manor and one from the village center — that connect to a larger road some distance away that leads toward the main trade arteries of the country. Along the northeast end of the property runs the Plemenit River, from which the grain mill is run and where the village and the manor both get their supply of water.
The manor itself is about what I expected. Regal brick towers flank an impressive main body, where the dining hall, kitchen, leisure areas, and bedrooms are located. The towers themselves also contain a number of guest bedrooms, as well as serving general storage purposes.
I notice a general lack of security personnel about, but that's what we were told to expect, since the Anchorage estate has never had a bandit problem, nor are they close enough to the Plegian border to have to worry about border raids. A few guards with spears mull about, and I notice one standing watch atop the south tower.
I feel an ache in my chest as I do my best not to think of Themis. This place is decidedly different, but I can't help but compare the two in my mind.
The first person from the Anchorage family to meet us is Sumia's sister Tricia, who as we approach the manor all but sprints out of the front door to leap into her big sister's open arms. The two of them giggle like children as Sumia picks her sister up, whirls her around for a moment, trips, and promptly collapses. The two don't miss a beat, continuing to laugh on the ground as they clumsily attempt to hug each other from their awkward and disjointed positions.
Tricia is the spitting image of her sister. Same grey hair, same dainty stature, just about the same haircut even, except hers is shorter than Sumia's. It's like looking through a time travel lens and seeing what Sumia would look like minus a decade.
"I'm so glad to see you, Sumia! You have to tell me everything about your adventures!" Tricia exclaims. Now that's a word none of us have heard in a while. Adventure. The war really hasn't hit this area hard, huh?
"Of course, sis. But first we gotta take care of some resupplying. I think Mom and Dad should be expecting us. We sent a messenger ahead of us," Sumia says as she gets to her feet.
"Yeah, I heard them talking about it. Come on!" Tricia hops to her feet and pulls her sister by the hand to rush her inside. The rest of us follow suit.
Things quickly turn to a flurry of movement as Robin (and to a lesser extent, Chrom) quickly begin to direct people to go to X-place and get Y-number of Z-item and load them up into the wagons. Most of us end up forming essentially tower raiding parties, storming up and down the spiral staircases with crates and barrels in hand and desperately hoping not to trip and kill ourselves in our haste. I barely have time to register what the interior of the manor actually looks like, as we're too busy rushing through it. It's about what you'd expect, though. Lots of nice decorations and trappings of the noble class. I see a particular coat of arms — a white horse's head facing left against a purple background — on a lot of stuff around, so I'm thinking that's probably the Anchorage family crest.
We arrived fairly late in the afternoon, so despite our rushing, we still don't get totally finished before dark. After some debate, Robin agrees that we can finish in the morning, which for me is a relief since I'm pretty much dead on my feet after running up and down the stairs for what feels like (and may actually have been) hours.
Several of the more important (i.e. wealthy) Shepherds get personally acquainted with the Anchorage parents, but for the destitute like me, we have to settle for getting a look from a moderate distance. Lord Anchorage looks kind of like a stereotypical 1700s well-to-do British gentleman, complete with a set of small, round spectacles and a fluffy mustache. He must be the parent with such strong grey hair genes, because though he still has all his hair, it's drab as a stormcloud. Lady Anchorage, on the other hand, looks remarkably young. She looks a lot like her daughters, except her straw-colored hair is pulled into an elegant bun, and her face is less gentle and more angular. The pair of them are dressed in fine clothes, Lord Anchorage in a charcoal suit and his wife in a wide-skirted burgundy dress. That's about all I see of them for the day, because as things start calming down, Libra approaches and taps me on the shoulder.
"Randall, are you ready to begin our daily session? Regrettably, we had to put it off until Robin decided to stop for the evening, but I would prefer not to miss a day. In truth, I've rather enjoyed getting back into the practice myself," he says.
"Oh, yeah, of course," I reply, even though I was really hoping to grab a bite to eat before anything else. But if nothing else, I've obtained at least a modicum of discipline from these daily meditations.
Time to find out if my body recognizes 'hunger' as an emotion, I guess.
"Randall, I must say, you've improved a great deal in the weeks we've been working on this technique," Libra says after probably half an hour. "I can tell that your focus has improved, as has your ability to manipulate your body without relying on emotion to do it. At this rate, you'll reach my level before too much longer."
"Thank you," I say, noting how strange it is to speak when I'm 'in the zone,' as I feel the air curl and whip around my throat and mouth as my phonators shift the air's movement to create sound waves that sound like the English language.
He gives a muffled 'hmph' of a laugh as he notices that I haven't stopped meditating even to listen to him. We continue for a while longer in silence.
After a while, he sits back and motions for me to do the same. "Excellent work today, Randall. Your commitment to mastering this technique continues to impress."
I allow myself a self-congratulatory smile. "I just want to be able to use dark magic without having to tip myself over the edge, that's all."
He nods. "Of course. From what Tharja has mentioned to me, it seems you're making solid strides toward perfecting that. Not that she sounded particularly pleased about it."
"So what made you want to develop this technique in the first place? Were you kind of in my situation, where you just wanted to avoid any mental degradation as a result of practicing your magic?" I ask.
"Well, not exactly. I wish I could say that's how it came about. Truth be told, when the previous war with Plegia was on, I was a member of Ylisse's military. By the time the war ended, I was perhaps nineteen or so, but by then I had already seen a great deal of combat as a dark mage for the Ylissean army. My talents were discovered early in the war, and in almost no time at all, I was enlisted. I had no parents, and I had grown up in rough circumstances, so there was no one to protect me from being pushed into combat. I was taken by the military and had a Flux thrust into my hands.
"I took to it immediately. I'm led to believe you had a similar intuitive talent when you first picked up a dark tome, yes?"
"Yeah, that's right."
"Then you know exactly what I'm talking about. That power is… intoxicating. And as a mere teenager, not yet mature enough to handle the burden of such magic unsupervised, I was… cheated of my youthful innocence. I came to crave battle. I delighted in violence. I reveled in bloodshed. I couldn't get enough. I was happy to fight in every battle until the war ended.
"And when the war ended, I didn't want to put the tome down. I was addicted. The magic had a grip on me, and I had no willpower to resist. With the dissolution of the military, I was suddenly jobless. I'm not proud of this, and I will spend my entire life atoning for it, but… I resorted to highway robbery. I was not prone to leaving survivors. It was fun, high risk, high reward work. If I hadn't been found by the man who became my mentor, I might still be doing that today, if not dead in a ditch somewhere.
"But find me he did. A priest of Naga, and traveling minister for the poor and sick after the war had left the land destitute. He was blessed with the resistance to magic that many who are attuned to healing magic possess, and as a result I failed to kill him. He was quick to incapacitate me, and when I woke, I found myself with my wrists tied, sitting in a tent. I thought it was surely the end for me.
"However, he showed me compassion, and perhaps even more importantly, he showed me mercy. The second chance that I didn't even know I needed was handed to me. He was quick to unbind me, but kept my tomes away from me, hidden away somewhere I couldn't access. I suffered without my tomes. I felt naked, at least at first. But slowly, surely, he showed me that I could use a different kind of magic. The magic of healing. Of empathy. Of not indulging in emotions that direct inward, but rather outward. Love, compassion, and the desire to help and to heal became the new cornerstones of my emotional being. Along with unlocking my talents with the staff, he also showed me the light of Naga's grace. For the first time in my life, I felt as though I belonged to someone.
"After a few months of his tutelage, he offered me my dark magic tomes back. I only took them for long enough to study them, and then to burn them. I swore I would never again indulge in dark magic, and to this day I have kept my word. I pored over them in an effort to understand their magical mechanics, and as you know, I made great strides. I developed this technique as a penance for my years of sin and destruction. In point of fact, you are the only person who has ever actually used this technique. I only ever had a theoretical authority on it. So as you can imagine, I'm glad to see it working for you. And now here we are."
Good God, what a story. I don't even know how to respond. Is this how Robin felt the other day when I dropped my big truth bomb on her? I feel like I'm only just now seeing Libra for the first time. Have his eyes always looked so tired?
"And the priest of Naga? Where is he?" I ask.
Libra bows his head. "Passed quietly in his sleep, a little over three years ago. We enjoyed about five years together as brothers in priesthood after my ordination. As much as I wish he were here now to aid us, I am glad he has already gone to his eternal rest and never needs to see such war and death again."
"No kidding. It sounds like he went above and beyond to earn that rest," I reply.
He smiles. "Indeed. I tell you this now, in part to congratulate you for being the first person to use this technique in real life, and in part as a warning. Dark magic has a will. It wants to ensnare you, as it has thousands, perhaps millions of others in the past. As it ensnared me. If you intend to keep relying on its power, you must be the one in control."
"I understand. I don't ever want to repeat what happened at Lake Medeus again," I say. I realize as I say this how similar Libra and I are. Now that I've heard his story, it's clear why he saw himself in me. Or maybe more specifically, he saw the potential in me to become like he was, and he did everything he could to prevent that. From everything I've seen, heard, and experienced with dark magic, it's clear that I have a lot to thank him for.
And as I sit here with him, remembering what he said he wants to do with his life, I think I know how. "Hey Libra, I've been thinking about something else too. You know that orphanage you said you wanted to open when peace finally returns to Ylisse?"
His eyes light up like firecrackers. "Yes?" he says, barely containing his preemptive glee.
"I'd like to join you in making that happen. I haven't really had a plan for myself outside of fighting this war until now, and it would be nice to know that I have a dream to work on when the violence finally comes to a close," I say with a smile.
He all but leaps to his feet, prompting me to stand as well. "Oh, Randall, do you mean it? You aren't merely agreeing to join because I pressured you, or because you feel indebted to me, are you?"
I shake my head. "Of course not! Until now, I've felt kind of directionless. Like outside of the war, there wasn't anything for me here. But you've made me think about everything else I could be. Other ways to help a world that has so much need. And whether you've had a bad past or not, the man you are today is someone worth rallying behind. I'd be honored to join you."
He sort of dances in place for a moment. I realize that he's physically fighting the urge to embrace me. I decide to take the first step and open my arms to him, and he accepts the hug gratefully.
"Forgive my emotional reaction, please. I'm just so glad to see you turning out so much better than I did. And to have you want to join me in serving the children of Naga who have lost so much, it's… it's almost too much for me," he says breathlessly.
I've never felt so appreciated in my life. I feel myself getting a little verklempt as well. We both take a quick minute to hug it out before we trust ourselves to speak again.
"Such an undignified display we made," Libra laughs.
"After all the shit we've seen and all the work we've put in to get this far, we've earned a touch of indignity, don't you think?" I reply.
"When you put it like that, it's difficult to disagree," he says, then takes a deep breath and smooths out his newly-untidied hair. "Well, Randall, we're going to have a lot of work to do. For now, though, what say we get some supper? All the meditation, followed by such an emotionally vulnerable moment, has left me famished."
"Now you're speaking my language, boss."
"Well now, wasn't that heartwarming?"
"God damnit, what do you want now?"
"The same thing I've always wanted, Mister Randall."
"It seems like all you've ever wanted is to knock me down a few pegs, Not-Mindy."
"Ooh, that stings. But surely you don't think you're doing this to yourself for nothing."
"Really? Because it seems like whenever I'm at my highest, you take a swing, and when I'm at my lowest, you take a kick. You'll come at me any time."
"You haven't thought enough about what I am and why you're hanging onto me."
"Oh, am I the one hanging onto you? Or is it you that won't leave me alone?"
"One and the same. I'm everything you'd like to think is separate from you."
"You told me once that I'm not asking the right questions. What are the right questions?"
"You tell me."
"What are you?"
"I'm the parts of you that you won't let yourself look at."
"Why do you look like Mindy, then?"
"Because of what you did to her."
"What did I do to her?"
"And there it is. Finally you're asking the right questions."
"Well? What did I do to her?"
"I only know what you allow yourself to remember. So you tell me."
"I don't know! I don't remember doing anything bad! Did I?"
"Have fun working that out."
"No, hang on! You've gotta help me! What did I do? Please, tell me! Come back! Tell me!"
I wake up, more tired than I was when I went to sleep. Fucking hell.
Oh well. Might as well go for a walk.
I pull on my robes to fend off the cold and sleepy-stumble down the spiral staircase of the south tower. The guard by the front door nods at me politely as I leave the building and head out to the yard. Despite the biting breeze blowing through, the night is clear and the stars are out. I think about the last time I took the time to really observe them, back before our ill-fated trip to Breakneck Pass. The outing with Robin that replaced the would-be date I wanted to take Maribelle on.
It was about that time that my nightmares about Mindy started. Why? What changed during that time about me that created the painful visions I've been seeing in the night? As I contemplate this, I walk around the back side of the manor and venture into the woods a bit, where most of the Feroxi forces have set up camp (being a member of the Shepherds has its perks, like being allowed to sleep inside). Being in the woods is comforting for me. I grew up around woods, and tall trees surrounded my childhood home. As a young kid, they had kind of scared me, but as I came into adolescence, it was comforting to be insulated by the sights and sounds of nature. To take a walk among such familiar trees puts my mind more at ease.
When I think about my mindset back then, when I first came to this world, it was more childish. It was really only after a few months that I started to take my life in this world seriously. My failure at Breakneck showed me that I wasn't living in the game I thought I was. That I had to commit to my life in this world. I allowed myself to open up to my friends and came to see them as the people they are.
That has to be the root of these nightmares, doesn't it? Something about my transition from the old, blasé me into someone who takes this world seriously was marked by the emergence of these nightmares. There's something I'm missing. Something I'm not approaching right, or something I'm too afraid to confront. But what? I'm doing my best, but I can't think right.
These are the things I'm thinking about just before I nearly take an arrow to the head.
A/N: So, the Big Truth comes out at last. What will this mean for our heroes? Noooobody knows (but me)~
So the thing with this chapter is that for the first time in a while, I actually cranked it out really quickly. Like, in the space of five or so days. The rest of the time with this process has been the chapter sitting in the incubator and getting occasionally prodded by me until I decide I'm driving myself insane wondering about whether X or Y will work or come across right. In situations like this, I value my beta reader Mixed Valence more than ever, because having a second voice in the mix to tell me either "yeah, actually that could use work" or "stop being a baby, this scene's good, just let it go already" is at its most valuable when I give myself too much time to second guess everything. So yeah. MV gets big props this time around, because the most important scene in this chapter is just as much his brain child as it is mine. So check out Earthborne, ya goons. And here is your Mixed Valence out of context quote of the week: "Back in the lab I used to work in, we had '200 proof ethanol, molecular cloning grade,' that's the good shit."
I've already gotten a tiny headstart on the next chapter, so hopefully I can put out another one in fairly short order. Things are finally heating up in the story, and I can finally pull a few other plugs I've been dying to get to, so stay tuned!
As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!