At first, as Fairen had requested, Chrom relayed the events during which Fairen had fallen under his "red" spell. As he spoke, the group made a quick stop at a nearby shallow stream (one that had not been ruined by the earthquakes and firestorm) in order for Fairen to wash his blood off his chest, pants, and cut shirt to the best of his ability. Fairen nodded along with Chrom's words, but Frederick noted Fairen seemed to be only half paying attention. Soon after, it became clear that, once seated behind Sully on their way to the Ylissian capital, Fairen was in no condition to pay any more attention of any kind. He was still quite pale, despite Lissa's efforts, and although the sleep-deprived Shepherds had a relaxing trek with no brigands or undead in sight, everyone saw that Fairen could not keep his eyes open for more than thirty seconds. The calming tempo of the horse's steps did not help Fairen's situation.
"At least he's used to riding," Sully commentated, feeling Fairen lean against her shoulder and back, fast asleep. The six of them walked down a dirt trail north that was nary used and none too wide. On occasion they would cross fellow Ylissian travelers, such as farmers who were off to the Southtown market to sell their produce, or mercenaries on an expedition to some unknown location. Regardless, the most company the Shepherds had were the trees lining the road and the morning birds fluttering around, singing their early tunes.
"That he is," Chrom said, giving a glance to their newest member with a smile. "He deserves this well-earned rest."
"He did just close a hole the size of a mountain," Lissa said, albeit quietly so to not wake up Fairen. "And getting healed that much takes a lot out of a person. Like, I know I already said it, but good grief! I was surprised that he hadn't stayed unconscious. The average person would have been out like a light for days."
"His spellcasting was marvelous," Virion commented. "I'm not a specialist in the field of incantation, but what he did was breathtaking. It was an act of true beauty."
"Yeah," Chrom said cautiously, eyeballing the ruby crystal that hung around Fairen's neck. "But I am worried about what kind of spell he was under. That necklace of his puts him under some odd effects."
"I definitely sensed some kind of strange energy coming from it," Lissa commented. Chrom nodded at her.
"Perhaps it is in our best interest to confiscate his pendant," Frederick said, not turning his head away from the road. "Who knows when it will go off again. That leaves Fairen as a liability to the Shepherds until we gain control of it."
"Let's not be hasty," Chrom said, returning his glance to Fairen. "I want to at least give Fairen a chance to explain to us what it is. Although he explained some of his magic to us, if the necklace is somehow a part of his power, we might cripple his abilities."
Frederick went silent for a beat. "As you wish, milord."
Chrom nodded, and gulped. He just hoped that Fairen had a good explanation for everything that had happened, and that he would be able to shed some light on all the mysteries he presented.
It had only been until after the Shepherds had gotten into the grand city of Ylistol that Fairen had woken up, his eyes opening to sights of strong, stone houses, wooden market stalls, and many, many citizens. The road wasn't too thin, and could fit about two and a half horse carts on it, but when Fairen looked carefully he was pleasantly surprised to see it made of worked cobblestone tiles, upkept nicely in an otherwise very used and very busy trail. The buildings varied from one to two floor affairs, made from a variety of pale, pinkish clay bricks, hardened by time and the sun. Most buildings were storefronts, with various wares displayed either through polished glass windows or open storefronts. There were market stalls set up in front of structures that did not look like shops, but only where there was room to do so, and not in the middle of the road.
All different kinds of people were on the daily go, men and women of different heights, sizes, skin colours, and much more. Some adorned well-worn travel equipment, posing as adventurers with swords and axes hanging from their backs, while most wore simple shirts and dresses of the working and middle class as they trotted along the path, the occasional group of children running past everyone's legs, excitedly yelling in play. Even a few people clearly in high wealth appeared, with ordinate clothing and fine shoes that were shined to a sheen.
"We're here, huh?" Fairen said blearily, leaning up from Sully's back. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to fight off fatigue, his face still pale.
"Welcome to Ylisstol, Fairen." Chrom said, smiling.
"And welcome back to the land of the living," Sully quipped, peering over her shoulder. "Seriously, you made the back of my armour look like a pillow or somethin'. I hope I don't find it rusted from your drool later."
Fairen laughed nervously, rolling his tongue around his mouth to see how dry it was.
"It is but a pleasure to visit the realm of dreams once in a while, no?" Virion added.
Fairen shook his head. "Still don't feel one-hundred percent yet."
"Well, in any case," Frederick said, looking around at the populace. "It appears the capital was spared the chaos we encountered, thank the gods. I see no evidence at all of the great quake, nor of the monsters that fell with it. It must have been limited to the forest.
Lissa seemed to have a joyful shine to her eyes. "It's a relief, for sure."
Fairen knocked on the back of Sully's armour. "Thanks again for letting me catch a ride." He gave a terse glance to Frederick and saw his battle axe holstered on the side of Daisy as Frederick gave a wary glance in Fairen's general direction.
"Don't mention it," was all Sully said. Her smirk quickly folded, however, when she felt the weight behind her saddle shift to the side, and she jerked a little when Fairen slid off the horse.
"Whoa, hey," Sully said, stopping the horse and turning to look at where Fairen had dropped. All the Shepherds rushed to Fairen's attention. Fairen had landed on his feet, and was leaning over with his hands on his knees for a second or two, taking a breather before standing straight up.
"What do you think you're doing?" Lissa said after it became apparent that Fairen dismounted on his own volition. "You shouldn't be standing right now, let alone awake! You're going to hurt yourself!"
Fairen waved his hand at Lissa's concerns, smiling to disarm. "I think I can handle the rest of the way on my own, thanks."
"Fairen," Chrom stated, one hand on his hip, his lips drawn in a thin line.
The new Shepherd's expression fell, and he turned towards Chrom. He took a step forward, one that was unconvincing in its strength and balance, and Fairen told Chrom in a low voice "please, Chrom. Just let me do this for myself. I know I've demanded a lot from you by now, but I need to be able to walk on my own two feet."
Chrom's stern eyes stayed until the walls came crumbling down and he release his hand from his hip. "Alright, Fairen, you can walk with us. But do take care with your steps. If you end up falling, we won't let you off the hook second time."
Fairen gave a beaming smile. "Thanks, Chrom."
"Chroooom!" Lissa whined, her frown deep as she glared at her brother, then at Fairen. "You can't be serious! He needs as much rest as he can get!"
Chrom appeared troubled for a brief second before he responded. "I have to consider all the wants and needs of the party equally, Lissa."
"But I'm the healer!" Lissa said, "I'm the one who healed him back up, and I'm the expert! And I say that he needs to keep seated until we get him to a bed for bedrest!"
Fairen fiddled with his fingers while looking back and forth between the two, not knowing what to say. Chrom was in conflict with himself.
"As Lissa is, indeed, the current medic of this squad, I recommend that Fairen were to be put back on Sully's horse," Frederick said. "However, if we are looking to compromise, then I suggest Fairen ride on horseback until we get to the castle and then see if he is strong enough to walk on his own."
Chrom nodded. "That sounds like a good idea. Fairen?"
Fairen frowned, then sighed in defeat. "Alright." He turned to Sully and got back up on the horse with Sully's help. From the back of the steed, Fairen took a sideways, disappointed look at Lissa behind him, who could only turn away at Fairen's gaze while the team started moving again.
As they emerged from the thin street into Ylistol's main avenue, they encountered an enlarged crowd of people, one that was on both sides of the street but left the center of the road wide and clear. They were all cheering in a cacophony of joy and admiration. It only took Chrom three seconds for his face to go from confusion to understanding as he recognized the mass of armoured guards, regal white horses, and flags carrying the symbol of Naga's Brand that all marched in a parade between the onlookers.
A woman in a regal white dress, radiant in her aura and stature, stood tall on the back of a metal, polished and painted wagon that was equal in nobility to her implied position. She smiled at the crowd as she peered back and forth to both sides of the road, her presence somehow granting energy and elation to everyone who saw her, like a ray of sunshine through the shadows.
"Who's that?" Fairen asked.
"That is the fair exalt of Ylisse, Lady Emmeryn," Frederick said.
"Exalt? So, the queen, then?"
"That is one alternative interpretation of 'exalt', yes," Frederick stated. "But the exalt is much more than just a simple queen. She is a symbol of the greater peace, an icon of the divine dragon Naga, and a high pontifex of the churches of Naga throughout the countryside."
"Ah," Fairen said, rubbing his chin. "She's like a pope too?"
"She is more important than the pope," Frederick said a bit hastily. "And would be above him in stature if not for her responsibilities to the kingdom and her people. Not to undermine the pope, mind you."
Fairen watched the parade slowly continue down the avenue as the cheers and joyful cries of the public bounced between the building walls. "Naga seems like a pretty big deal around here."
Chrom and Lissa glanced at Fairen as Frederick renewed his explanation. "Absolutely. She, in her holy divinity, is our sacred god of Ylisstol, and elsewhere. Of course, Ylisse accepts all religions, but I've seen none other that grant as much proof of divinity."
"And Naga has?" Fairen questioned.
Frederick swept his arm out towards Emmeryn. "Lady Emmeryn is proof of such existence. Her legacy, as well as the history of the royal family, is recorded to be in direct contact with the divine dragon. Long ago, at the dawn of our age, the fell dragon tried to destroy the world. But the first exalt joined forces with the divine dragon and laid the beast low. Exalt Emmeryn reminds us all of the peace we fought for then."
"With the Plegians poking at our borders, the people need her," Chrom said to Fairen. "She's a calming presence, when some might otherwise call for war."
Fairen tsked, then shook his head. "I think I asked this before, but there's been discussion with the Plegian rulers about the bandit excursions, right?"
"There is no room for parlay when speaking to that dastard Gangrel," Chrom said beneath clenched teeth, his gloved hand curling into a tight fist. "We call him the 'mad king' for a reason."
"Of course," Fairen said, observing the parade as it reached the end of the street and turned the corner of the block, his gaze clouded in deep, deep thought. I think I'll go visit one of these 'Naga' churches when I have the time.
"Well, perhaps we'll meet with Emm later. She seems to be occupied for the moment," Chrom decidedly said, putting his fists on both sides of his hips. Fairen's mouth opened in a silent question, eyebrows raised, but Chrom continued right through without noticing. "We should reconvene at the Shephards' garrison and give a status update to everyone."
"Ooh!" Lissa squealed happily. She turned to Fairen. "I think you'll love it there! I can't wait to introduce you to everyone!"
The Shepherds made their way north through town, up a sizable hill that held the esteemed Castle Ylissia, the stronghold that held and protected the exalt and her family, or so was told to Fairen. The compound was impressive: large, grey stone walls towering fifty feet up stood around the castle in a circle, with three different entrances to the inner compound, all heavily guarded and defended by a garrison of royal guards and sturdy double doors. Chrom and the party took the eastmost entrance with little hassle, which led directly to the soldier barracks for the town, the Shepherds' garrison taking place in the same building. Once inside the outer walls, Fairen craned his head up to admire the large structure of the fortress, all in its glory, sturdy as it was square, with different towers jutting outward from the structure, their cone red roofs seemingly touching the floating clouds in the sky. Several paned windows were dotted uniformly along the first, second, and third floor walls, some closed. The whole place was well kept, with nary a piece of waylaid garbage.
As Fairen approached the headquarters building, Sully and Frederick bid adieu, leading their horses down a separate dirt trail that lead to some stables, with Virion in tow of Sully. Fairen had gotten off Sully's horse after the castle gates, and was willing to follow Lissa to their next destination, when they got into a short argument about how Fairen should go to bed or not as soo as they get there. A begrudging Lissa agreed to Fairen staying awake for as long as he could, but not without a lot of complaints from her. During the moment, a castle guard suddenly rushed Chrom asking for his presence, so Chrom excused himself and went off to go deal with some sort of abrupt business, leaving Fairen and Lissa to reach the Shepherds' garrison.
"Here we are!" Lissa exclaimed proudly, gesturing to the room before them as the heavy door closed behind Fairen.
The room was spacious, but cluttered. Crates and barrels were stacked against the far most wall and corner, shields and combat weapons leaning against the wooden surfaces. A large, square table with scattered papers, inkpots and quills sat beneath a set of open windows, sun flooding in along a pleasant southern draft. Bottles and brown paper bags were stacked next to each other at another corner of the room. On several stone shelves were books, purses, bags, and records that seemed to rest with a bit of dust. There was a lonesome chair next to a crate with parchment on it, separate of the others beneath the table at the opposite end of the room.
"Mmm," Fairen sounded out as he stepped farther into the room, nodding with an approving frown. "Nice."
"Lissa, my treasure!" Fairen heard a young lady say. He turned towards the source to find three other people in the room. "Are you all right? I've been on pins and needles!"
A young woman in a pink and white outfit rushed to Lissa's side. She had stark blonde hair that fell into finely drilled curls behind her head from two white bows that hung at the sides of her skull. Brown boots reached up to her knees, pink gloves extended down her wrists, and she had the cleanliness, posture, and total air of an aristocrat.
Fairen peered behind her to see another woman with light, steel armour beyond a purple battle dress with brown, flowing hair that almost reached just as far down. She, too, had boots that reached up to her knees (a common fashion statement, Fairen figured at this point), and watched Fairen with a kind but... cautious? No, shy, expression. The man beside her was topless, with impressive muscles defined in his biceps and pectorals, major armour only covering his stomach and groin. His dirty blonde hair was kept back by a black band that revealed a cocky smile and an ambitious glint in his eye.
"Oh, hey, Maribelle!" Lissa said with an innocent smile.
"'Oh, hey' yourself! I've sprouted fourteen grey hairs fretting over you!" Maribelle said, putting her hands firmly on Lissa's shoulders.
Fairen wore an awkward, mouthy smirk. That seems like a dramatic overstatement.
"Aw, you worry too much," Lissa said, waving off Maribelle as she gently pulled her friend's hands off her. "Although I could do without the bugs, the bear barbecue, and the new recruits with death wishes..."
With her last statement, she gave a pointed look behind her at Fairen. Suddenly, Fairen felt all eyes on him, and he just looked down and shook his head with a hissing sigh from the back of his throat. Maribelle gave a look that Fairen did not like.
"Sounds like quite the adventure!" the burly man said, stepping up towards Fairen with his hands on his hips. "Probably nothing like ol' Teach's battles, though."
"Oh, so you're 'Teach' now, Vaike, is that it?" Lissa said with a giggle, arms drawn behind her back. "And here I thought people were just born lacking wits. It can be taught?"
"Ha! Never doubt the Vaike!" Vaike's tall posture and smile dropped for a moment. "Wait, was that an insult?"
"Beg pardon," the light-armoured lady said, physically leaning in towards the conversation. "But when might we see the captain?"
Maribelle gave a roll of her eyes and a tiny headshake before she focused back at Lissa. "Poor Sumia. She's simply been beside herself with concern. Her eyes were scanning the horizon all day during training. She might have earned fewer bruises fighting blindfolded."
"Aw, Sumia, that's so sweet of you to worry about Chrom," Lissa cooed.
"Worry? Well, I..." Sumia started. Fairen could already see blush filling in her cheeks. He immediately understood. "He's our captain—of course I'd worry!"
"So, who's the new guy?" Vaike said, derailing the topic and pointing at Fairen. "And why's he got a death wish?"
Fairen gave a flat stare, where the corners of his stretched lips pushed into his cheeks.
Lissa gestured towards Fairen with a hint of jovial incredulousness. "This is Fairen. He just joined the Shepherds. I had to stuff his insides back inside him after our last battle before he bled out."
Maribelle took a step back with a hand over her mouth. "O-Oh my!"
Vaike grimaced. Sumia blinked several times before her next words. "Are you ok? You're as pale as a ghost!"
Damn, I need a mirror, Fairen thought to himself. Do I really look that bad? "Yeah, I'm ok. But blood loss definitely causes ghostliness."
"And he has the audacity to stand walk around while ignoring orders from the healer that saved his life!" Lissa said, leaning angrily towards Fairen.
"Lissa, I already did what Chrom told me to do. I went on Sully's horse and now that I'm at the castle I'm on my own two feet. Being self-mobile is very important to me," Fairen said calmly.
"She's quite correct," Maribelle said. "You should be in a bed."
"And I haven't even gotten a single thank you yet!" Lissa stated, her tirade growing in volume.
Fairen's semi-cheerful expression fell. Suddenly, he took Lissa's hand with both of his and looked her straight in the eye. "Lissa, I am forever grateful for you saving my life. Thank you."
Lissa didn't know what to say before her lips screwed into a frown and she ripped herself from Fairen's grasp, turning away. "You don't have to be so dramatic about it!"
Fairen watched Vaike go cross-eyed. Then, he let out a booming belch that seemed to bounce around the room.
"Ugh, Vaike!" Maribelle said, cringing away from said person. "That was abhorrent! Must you baseborn oafs pollute even the air with your buffoonery?"
"Sorry," Vaike simply said, shrugging. "That was my steak sandwich lunch. Definitely tasted better on the way down than back up."
Somehow, Maribelle was able to make an even more disgusted face. Then the smell hit her and Lissa.
"Pee-yew! Vaike, did you also eat a can of trash on the side?" Lissa said in a clogged voice, pinching her nose and waving away the fumes. The burp hit Fairen, and curved his wrist under his nose and winced.
"I cannot handle this!" Maribelle cried, and with a panic she scurried out of the front door of the garrison.
"Didn't think it was that bad," Vaike said, not looking much too perturbed. Sumia quietly held her nose behind him.
"That's some rank dank stank, my dude," Fairen said. Then, lowering his hand to reveal a smarmy grin, his stomach flexed and he let out a burp of his own, although not as violent or loud as Vaike's.
"Hey!" Vaike said, pointing fingers at Fairen with a smile. "I see you've also got class!"
Lissa rolled her eyes. "Fairen, please. Not you too."
The front door to the garrison suddenly opened, with a new set of footsteps entering the room. Everyone turned to see Chrom reach the ring of companions, where he sniffed, then made a face.
"What's that smell?" He asked no one in particular.
Fairen doubled over in laughter, unable to help himself, to which Vaike soon followed.
Ignoring the two, Sumia stepped towards Chrom. "Captain! You've returned! I was—I mean, we were so—"
She took another step and her foot caught on her heel, sending her careening into the hard stone floor. Fairen and Chrom were immediately at her side.
"Are you ok?" Fairen asked with clear concern, the tears of laughter in his eyes no longer appropriate. Both he and Chrom lent their hand to Sumia as she got to her knees. She took Chrom's hand, and then, after a moment's consideration, also took Fairen's as the two men lifted Sumia up to her feet.
"I'm fine, thank you, Fairen," she said, nodding to Fairen then turning her head to Chrom, to which she let go and stepped away. "C-Captain."
"Was it those boots of yours again?" Chrom asked.
"No!" Sumia cried, arms at her sides. "I mean, yes! I mean..." She sighed. "Never mind."
"If you need new boots, we could always have the royal remodeler make you new ones," Chrom offered.
"No thank you, Captain."
"Alright then." Chrom turned to Fairen. "Come with me, Fairen. I've been in dialogue with Emm and she wants to meet the person who closed the hole in the sky."
"T-The exalt!?" Fairen shouted, stepping back in surprise. "Really?"
"It's imperative for her to know the details in which you closed the portal, in case Risen start falling again," Chrom said. Then, he gave a friendly smile. "She also just wants to meet the newest recruit of the Shepherds."
How in deep are the Shepherds with royalty? Fairen asked himself, confusion mixed with mild panic. After a beat, he nodded then followed Chrom back out the front door, with his last thought before leaving about the strange, burly soldier that stood silently in the corner in a humongous set of heavy blue armour.
The metal mechanism of the door closed shut with a clank, leaving everyone in remote, slightly awkward silence.
"Commander Phila was talking about reports of dead soldiers on the kingdom outskirts," Sumia said, a finger to her chin in wonder. "Was that what Chrom was talking about?"
Suddenly, Lissa grew a huge grin on her face that caught Vaike's attention. "Oh boy, do I have a story for you guys..."
The exalt's chamber was deep as it was absolutely massive. A royal crimson carpet aligned the center of the floor, rising up all the way to the end of the room. Carved, polished pillars stood tall at the sides, forming curving arches at the height of the first ceiling, the second hanging much higher above with glowing silver chandeliers lighting the room, lit torches on the pillars. Beside the pillars were side sections with barred, blue-glass windows, displaying two different courtyards on two different sides of the throne room. Grand shield banners hung on the pillars in between torches, displaying a fierce white emblem etched into the green felt, depicting something akin to a tree-sword with several fruit hanging from the branches of its blade.
Frederick had met up with Chrom and Fairen as they navigated the castle halls, and as the three of them entered the chamber from the giant oak doors of the throne room, Fairen could spot the exalt from a hundred meters away, she sat on the throne with two other people: an older woman with grey hair dressed in light armour, and a butler. With a nod towards the butler, the butler walked away and off toward some door hidden to the right. Then, the exalt got up from her throne and approached the group.
Fairen was surprised that the exalt met them halfway. They both approached until they stood feet away from each other at the direct center of the chamber. Up close, Fairen could make out more details of Emmeryn: how her gold and grass robe hung over her shoulders and body like it would for a church bishop, the elaborate designs of the collar and collar piece that hung around her neck, the twin twirls of her hair rolling down the edges of her cheeks, her uniquely simplistic arch-crown, and the odd symbol on her forehead of a raindrop falling onto the wings of a graceful bird.
"Greetings again, Chrom. And you too, Frederick," Emmeryn said, nodding to the two, her voice soft, but firm.
"Hey Emm," Chrom said. Fairen had compartmentalized the casual air Chrom used to speak of the exalt thus far, but he willfully ignored it and pushed it to the back of his mind.
Frederick gave a bow. "Milady. How do you fair this day?"
"I am well, Frederick," Emmeryn said, beaming. "Thank you for asking. And is this the mage you have spoken so much of, Chrom? Fairen, I believe you said his name was."
Emmeryn finally turned to Fairen, who was behind Chrom on Chrom's right side. Without looking Emmeryn in the eye, Fairen performed a very specific bow, one where he stepped back and lowered his right knee to land parallel with his other foot, and where he tucked his right fist to his chest, his left arm swaying slowly and gracefully behind him while he ducked his head low. Frederick and Chrom backed up slightly from Fairen's display.
"Your majesty," Fairen said. "I am Fairen."
"Please, rise," Emmeryn said. Fairen did as she told. "I am not one for such pleasantries. You are a part of the Shepherds, are you not? I wish to treat each other more at an equal level."
"As you wish." Fairen's tone was neutral and flat, as was his expression. Chrom and Frederick shared a glance, eyebrows high.
Emmeryn tried to give a welcoming, disarming smile. "Chrom has spoken about your exploits, before and after joining the Shepherds. Tell me, is it true that you sealed a great, dead-spawning hole in the sky with your magic?"
"It is, your majesty," Fairen said.
"And that you survived an almost fatal blow to the stomach?" Emmeryn asked.
"It is true, your majesty."
"What about that necklace of yours? I've heard it contains a great amount of power."
It took all of Fairen's willpower to not react to the exalt's statement, but he could not stop his hand shooting to grasp the hanging ruby around his neck. His mind raced, and one of his first thoughts was to Chrom, who Fairen didn't look at, but knew was at his side, watching him. "...It is but a symbol of the powers that I garner from the land I come from, your majesty."
"Truly?" Emmeryn stated, still smiling. "From what land do you hail?"
Fairen kept his eyes twitching in the direction of the other Shepherds in the room. He knew how interesting this would be to them. "I am a representative of the land of Alimaris, your majesty."
Fairen prayed that the exalt could not pick up on the slight hesitation of his words.
"I have not heard of such a kingdom," Emmeryn said.
"I'm afraid it's not one near here, your majesty," Fairen explained, letting some of his concern appear on his face. "In fact, I'm not quite certain where 'here' exactly is. I have not heard of a 'Ylisse' either, nor a 'Plegia'. I cannot say how far away from home I am."
Emmeryn frowned. "That is unfortunate, to say the very least. But you have just joined the Shepherds, have you not? Will you attempt to search for a way back to your kingdom?"
Fairen let himself glance to Chrom and Frederick's position for a moment, catching Chrom's intensely inquizitive gaze. "Your majesty, Captain Chrom has graciously let me into his ranks despite not knowing anything about myself, my position, or where I'm from. I am in his debt, and in debt to the Shepherds as a whole. I do not plan on pursuing the goal of finding a way to return home without paying off those debts first."
"Fairen," Chrom started, "when I asked if you wanted to join us, it wasn't with the intention of having you pay off any sort of 'debt'. It was supposed to be involuntary, at your discretion. You can leave any time you want as long as you tell me before hand."
Blinking, Fairen held back a frustrated frown. He could feel his own heartbeat accelerate.
"Yes, that doesn't seem like something my brother would hold you to," Emmeryn added.
A beat in the conversation.
"...I beg your pardon, your majesty?" Fairen said, gawking.
Emmeryn's thoughts danced behind her grey eyes. "Yes, Chrom is my brother. Has he not established that with you yet?"
"No, I guess it just hadn't come up at any point," Chrom mused, rubbing his with a pointed finger.
Fairen stumbled back, startled, his posture and composure broken. "Wait a moment," he said, first gesturing to Chrom. "So, you," he said, then pointed to Emmeryn, "and you, are brother and sister?"
"You got it," Chrom said, scratching the back of his head. "I'm the crown prince of Ylisse. But please, Fairen. Just treat me as you have been thus far. Like Emmeryn said, she's not fond of others bowing down to her, and I'm the same way."
Fairen left his mouth open, hands to the side, and his eyes wide. Frederick turned lightly to the side to hide his tiny smirk. Suddenly, Fairen let out a quiet chuckle that slowly bubbled to rambunctious, open-mouthed low laughter, having to hold his stomach and stumbling in place to stable himself.
"Fairen?" Chrom, said, worried yet wary.
"What's so funny?" Frederick stated.
Fairen was beside himself with unseen humour. The other four, Chrom, Frederick, Emmeryn, and the woman with grey hair, all shared glances as Fairen continued laughing. Finally, he looked back up at the group and started to wipe the tears away from his eyes.
"S-Sorry," he said, still giggling. "It's... It's just so funny that I've managed to get myself this deeply involved with royalty again!"
"This has happened to you before?" Chrom asked.
Fairen nodded his head. He could not stop himself from giving a toothy grin. "Yeah. I guess I better tell you all my official position. I am the head researcher of portals and interdimensional mechanics at the Magika Academis, the largest magic university in Alimaris." This definitely took everyone off guard, but Fairen continued, "before that, I was heavily involved with the going-ons of magical business with the Alimarinian royal family. Of course, I didn't plan on being there for the king, but things sort of happened, the position fell into my lap, and then suddenly I found myself in deep with the king and everyone closely connected to him. And now look." Fairen gestured to everyone. "I'm neck-deep in a place I don't know and already I've made pretty close connections with another royal family. It's just ironic to me, is all."
Chrom and Emmeryn shared a look, and grinned.
"Your grace," Frederick started. "If I may..."
Emmeryn turned around. "Yes, Frederick?"
"Although his actions thus far portray a friendly demeanor, I must suggest caution about his true intents. As he has stated, he comes from a land Chrom nor I have heard of, and this conversation is the first time he has revealed the name of where he is from. In fact, he has shared very sparce details about his past to us in general."
Fairen glared at Frederick, eyebrows furrowed. You snake!
"Really, Frederick?" Chrom deadpanned, a tinge of annoyance in his tone. "I don't think Fairen would close a undead-spawning hole in the sky if he was plotting against Ylisse and her people."
"We still do not know the origins of his powers," Frederick said, meeting Fairen's gaze with a stern, thin-lipped stare of his own. "Tell me Fairen, what compelled you to go searching for the portal before it appeared? Or how about your amulet? How it glows as you cast magic and then conveniently become memory-less?"
Fairen instantly grabbed his amulet and took a defensive stance, holding the growl in his throat. He figured Chrom had told Frederick those details while Fairen was asleep on the ride to Ylisse.
"Ease yourself, Frederick," Chrom said, stepping forward. "We don't want to poke and prod at people's stories so aggressively."
"And Chrom has allowed Fairen into the castle in the first place," Emmeryn said, gesturing to Fairen behind her. "Were Chrom to believe he was a true danger, he would have not done so, would you, brother?"
"No," Chrom said, shaking his head. "Of course not. Fairen's risked his life for many Ylissians. That's good enough for me."
Fairen could tell Frederick wanted to say more, but he made no motion to speak, and instead stood straight like a war banner stuck in the ground.
"It seems you've earned Chrom's faith, Fairen," Emmeryn said before too much silence could fill the room. "Thus, you have earned mine as well."
Fairen's blinked in mild surprise, and he tucked away his anger into the back of his mind, even as it buzzed and thrashed at him. "Thank you, your majesty."
"And thank you, Frederick," Emmeryn said," for your prudence, as always. Chrom and Lissa are blessed to have so tireless a guardian. I do hope they remember to mention that from time to time."
This time, Frederick smiled. "They occasionally express something akin to gratitude, Your Grace."
There was a knock on the double doors at the far end of the throne room. The grey-haired lady glanced at Emmeryn for a second, to which Emmeryn nodded.
"Enter," Emmeryn called out to the guards near the doors, and the two opened them for the person behind it: a servant girl, in her teens and wearing a flowing crimson dress. She swiftly and efficiently walked up to the group.
"Milady," she said, her voice slightly shaky from nerves. Then, she turned towards Chrom and Frederick. "Milords. I'm sorry to disturb you all."
"Do not worry," Emmeryn said. "What troubles you, Meridia?"
"The Warren Circle has collected themselves in the council room," Meridia informed.
"Ah," Emmeryn stated, leaning back in remembrance. She turned to Fairen. "I'm sorry. I would love to speak more with you, but I'm afraid council is about to be held."
Fairen nodded. "I understand, your majesty."
"Chrom, I was hoping you could join us as well."
Chrom looked back between Emmeryn and Fairen. "Eh, er... I'll be there shortly, Emm. Don't wait for me."
"Alright," Emmeryn complied. She, the grey-haired lady, and Meridia then went towards the exit.
Chrom examined the two other men next to him. The ire was clear as Frederick and Fairen glared at each other.
"Frederick, go with her," Chrom said, pointing toward Emmeryn. Emmeryn took a second to look over her shoulder. "And wait for me at the council doors."
"Milord?" Frederick asked.
"I'll be right there, I just need to sort out a few things with Fairen," Chrom explained.
Frederick took one last sideways look at Fairen. "As you wish."
Then, Frederick left the room. Chrom waited until the echo of the shut double doors faded.
Chrom turned to Fairen with a pained expression. "I'm sorry about Frederick. I think the Risen appearing has set him on edge."
Fairen had to relax under Chrom's sincerity. "It's ok, Chrom. I'll try not to let him get under my skin too much."
"That's good," Chrom said. "How much has Lissa showed you of the castle grounds?"
Chrom and Fairen went into a short conversation regarding where Fairen could and could not go, and that he should look for a maid or butler in case he gets lost. He promised Fairen he would give Fairen a real tour of the castle once he was done with council, and if not, then would find someone to do it for him. After bidding adieu, Chrom left the room in the same manner as Emmeryn and Frederick, leaving Fairen to himself with his thoughts and the echo of the large wooden doors at the end of the room.
More royalty, huh? Fairen put one hand on his chin with the other cradling his elbow. I hope that things go a lot better than last time.
The next day, Fairen found he could not lift his legs out of bed. From the tiny room given to him in the Shepherds' garrison, he had to crawl with his arms in embarrassment before Lissa kicked down the locked door because he slept through breakfast and was acting "really weird". After that point, he was at the whim and mercy of the clerics of Castle Ylissia, who carted him to the medical quarter so he could be closely monitored. Fairen did not enjoy the drab beige robes he was forced to wear, and although he had an amazing view of the city below from a window near his bed, the sun shining brightly through sparce white clouds, all he could think about was what the medical team was definitely saying about him behind his back.
"You're kiddin' me!" Mary, the head nurse of the medical quarter, wearing a plain brown frock and a square hat, said to Lissa, as the two were in deep dialogue in her secluded office behind thick doors. "He should have been out for weeks!"
"I know!" Lissa said, dressed in a fairer yellow dress than what she usually wore to battle. "It's incredible! I almost can't believe he's human!"
"Otherwise, he'd be a real monster," Mary mused, arms folded. "I'm certainly glad you've got him on the Shepherds' side."
Lissa shook her head. "But there's more, Mary. When I cast my magic, it was like the spell was sucked right out of my staff! He grabbed the other end of the spell and pulled it right into himself! If he didn't get every single ounce of healing magic that he did, I don't think he'd made it."
"That's really odd," Mary mused, chin-on-fist in deep thought.
"He ate the magic. I swear, he ate the magic." Lissa said, to which Mary nodded. "And he's still healing plenty without stave spells. I'm considering he might be part Manakete."
Fairen spent the next week and a half in that room, the smells of what magical cleaners and concoctions that the Ylissians made filling his nose day in and out, even as the western breeze flooded in his room each morning, along with the twitter of early birds. On occasion, would the other Shepherds come visit him and see how he was doing. Sumia brought him Ylissian field daisies, a bundle of pretty white flowers with petals that curved in a curtsey, having no other clue as to what to bring him. Vaike would appear, only to seem to want more battle stories from Fairen's past, to which Vaike would trade his own stories with. Fairen was mildly uncomfortable speaking about "how many dragon's he's exactly slain", but he thought it to be good company, none-the-less. He figured, however, that Vaike and Sumia only visited him because they heard from Lissa about his exploits in the burning field and of the hole in the sky, and for no other reasons.
Sully gave her hellos along with Virion, the latter of which actually brought a strategy board game, and offered Fairen to teach him and give pointers throughout their play, passing the hours quickly, to which Fairen immensely appreciated. The two that visited him the most, however, were Lissa and Chrom, the former of which fretted over him as much as she bonked him over the head over and over for pushing himself too hard in the first place. Fairen apologized over and over, wondering if he'd ever outlive Lissa's teasing. He wasn't too certain until when one day, before he went to bed, he found a frog that had somehow been placed beneath his pillow, followed by curious feminine snickers from behind his room door.
Chrom, on the other hand, introduced him to the other Shepherds, Frederick in the room with Chrom (which was the only time Fairen actually saw the stern knight while Fairen was stuck). Fairen met Sthal, the friendly cavalier with constant bed-head, a steady smile, and green armour to match Sully's red. As well, he was introduced to Miriel, a studious red-head mage with glasses and a witch's hat that seemed intensely intrigued by tales of Fairen's unique magic. Although she tried to visit as often as free time allowed her to "ascertain exact details of unknown magicks", the nurses of the medical quarter made sure Fairen wasn't bothered by too many information requests so specific that it evaded everyone's–except Fairen's–heads.
It wasn't just business that Chrom visited Fairen, however. It was genuine concern that fueled Chrom when he would visit Fairen in the late hours, beyond all the councils and throne room musings and complaints of the aristocrats that would so often be thrown his way. Fairen once again felt guilty of how wantonly he'd been acting in Chrom's presence, and promised Chrom that he'd try his best to answer any questions Chrom had for him. Chrom reassured him however, that he wanted Fairen to rest and recover as quickly as possible, and that deep-diving questions could wait until later.
At the end of his second week of rest, Fairen was slated to a fitting with the royal remodeler, as appointed by Chrom. Fairen had no qualms, as he had been aching to get out since the very start of his bed-arrest. Chrom explained that the royal remodeler, Keele, was the personal blacksmith for the royal family and all of their royal champions, and was famous for his work, with his needle skills often compared to a myrmidon with a blade.
So, when Fairen was escorted by Meridia to a small short in the western quarter of Ylisstol (his footsteps still uneasy from weakness), he did not expect to stop in front of a humble clay and brick shop short of two stories high. The building wasn't sandwiched between two others, like most shops in the district, but instead stood solely in a small field of short grass and wild flowers, the other houses that had been built beside the shop long since gone. It was a bastion in an otherwise sea of grey, maroon and brown walls, where a short breath and reprieve could be taken between the streets, away from the many parks and dirtied fountains that lay about the city. Fairen did take note of the burly-looking men and women idling on the street and between the closest buildings next to the remodeler's shop, and how they appeared just non-descript enough to not draw attention unless one was pertinently observant.
The inside of the shop was in sharp contrast to the outside, however. The front door jingled with three hanging copper bells painted silver, and immediately there was a shoe rack and a coat hanger to Fairen's left. The walls were plastered with a royal, velvet wallpaper, a golden flower pattern all over the surface. The building was split into four different rooms, one that had a mass of elaborate but sturdy looking armour worn by wooden mannequins. Another room was a workshop of sorts; it had different sewing materials and clothes lain out on multiple tables, with shelves in a closet overflowing with silk and felt.
Keele met Fairen almost immediately after he got through the door with Meridia. The man was broad and tall, with a summer tan to suit his dark complexion, black jelled hair, and a devilish mustache and goatee that screamed good looks. He wore a purple t-shirt that was a deeper shade than his walls and hugged his waist, showing off a good amount of chest hair from a large and round V-neck.
There was little introduction to be made between Fairen and Keele. Meridia couldn't even tell Keele what they were there for before Keele took Fairen by the wrist and dragged him off to the fitting room, where Fairen stood on an old box surrounded by three mirrors.
Fairen finally, finally got to properly see what he looked like, and it was depressing. He was given a simple green shirt and sack red pants on his outing, temporary clothes until he got a proper set from Keele, but it was not flattering him by any amount of the imagination. It was better than the clothes he arrived with, which were left in his room in the Shepherd's Garrison, but his current clothes were a sideways upgrade—not really an upgrade at all. He was pale as a ghost (which was ironically apt for Fairen as he had seen and fought ghosts before), with a face that seemed as if it hadn't seen the sun for months. He could see freckles stand out beneath his slanted eyes, freckles that only usually appear in the colder months. His hair was still stuck in bed mode: flat on the top and sticking out everywhere. Even though he went through a, embarrassingly, wash with one of the castle nurses, it still looked as if his face was permanently caked with dirt. Or, perhaps it was just the gaunt expression of his drooping lip corners or slight hunch that Fairen seemed to carry himself with.
And the circles under his eyes. It was the circles under his eyes that he could not pry his focus from.
"So, what kind of armour do you envision yourself in?" Keele asked, his voice tough, but light, with an accent that could easily be mistaken of high class, but was somehow... not. He had a measuring tape and started to measure around Fairen's torso.
"Mmm," Fairen sounded aloud, raising his arms to grant Keele easier access. "I'm not too sure. It's been a while since I've worn proper armour."
"Can't have been too long," Keele said, measuring the circumference of Fairen's shoulders. "You definitely look like the warrior type, and if Chromy boy has managed to pick you up for the Shepherds, then you must have some sort of preference."
Fairen looked over his shoulder at Keele, eyes wide. "Chromy boy?"
Keele took a step away and smiled. "I've been dressing Chrom since he was but a toddler. He was Chromy boy back then and he still is Chromy boy now."
Fairen almost couldn't believe how young Keele looked compared to what age he was talking about. He seemed to be still in his thirties!
"So," Keele said, going back to his measurements. "Armour type? You have an idea yet?"
"Oh, uh," Fairen said, almost jumping off the box in surprise. "Something strong, but not too heavy?"
"Can't have strong and light at the same time, my dear," Keele said, bringing the tape around Fairen's upper legs. "Unless you bring me some sort of ancient, legendary metal, it's one or the other."
Fairen tilted his head down, then shook it. "I'm sorry. I'm really used to magic armour. Uh, a magic spell for armour. I don't have a really good idea of what you can make armour out of."
"I see," Keele said, at Fairen's ankles. There was a beat. Fairen looked up at the ceiling and squinted, his sight blurring.
"There was this one time," Fairen started, "I think, and I don't remember it that well, but it was when I was fitted with some armour. It was light, and sturdy, not something like a knight would wear, but had some decent protection around the chest and shoulders."
"Was it easy to move in?" Keele asked, wrapping the tape around Fairen's elbows and wrists. "And did it have large gaps between the plates?"
"Uh," Fairen said intelligently. "It was pretty easy to move in, I guess, and there was a small gap between the plates. But I also remember a warning about avoiding blunt damage, like from hammers and maces,"
"Hmm," Keele said. "Come on, step down." Fairen did as he was told, and Keele took measurements around Fairen's collarbone and neck. "That sounds like medium armour. Not heavy, but not light, and just strong enough to avoid damage from a stab or three. Does that sound familiar?"
"Yeah, kind of," Fairen said, shifting around nervously. He met himself in the mirror once again. The background faded away, and the reflection clouded over as blue and grey painted a sky of warring storms, battles taking place as the moon evolved and was born anew again and again. A grand valley parted the sea of six kingdoms. A girl banished from time itself. Three brothers banned from their own knight's circle. A princess waiting to resurrect her kingdom. An age-old feud between the people of the mountains and sky. A young squire rose the ranks of a court as the focus of a sinister campaign. A journey spanning coast to coast. A king on a conquest, waiting to light the autumn fields with war. The lost denizens of the sea returning once more. A dragon guarding the greatest treasure of them all, a golden weapon that sealed away the darkness.
And a legendary pair, the chest of one stained with a hole of ichor.
"Helloooo?" Keele said, waving his hand in front of Fairen's face. "Anyone there? Ylisse to the warrior, are you there?"
Fairen shook himself out of his stupor and pulled his attention to Keele, filing the images of the kingdoms and the couple to the recesses of his mind. "I, uhh..."
"One second," Keele said, stepping out of view for a moment. When he came back, he was carrying a small, thin box filled with clothes. "Perhaps this," Keele put the box down and pulled out a familiar brown top, "will help you with your indecision."
Fairen looked at Keele's object through the mirror, and blinked. It was his leather jacket, scraped and ruined in its entirety. Keele had a box of his clothes somehow.
"You have an attachment to this jacket, don't you, darling?" Keele said, pulling himself to the side of the garment and looking up and down the zipper. "I can tell. And your belongings have some very interesting materials and innovations woven into them. Although, I have no idea in the world as to why you would combine your attire as you have. Your steel boots are twice the width of my thigh, and five times as heavy! Honestly, it doesn't look like normal warrior attire at all, nor like something a mage would wear, but it makes me wonder about what you did in your off time that made you need such heavy footwear..."
Fairen opened his mouth in response, only for Keele to speak over him. "Do not worry about such things. My point is that you'll want some sort of protection covering your shoulders, correct?"
Fairen couldn't help but smirk at the idea, to which Keele noticed. "It shall be thus, then! A medium-armour build with an immaculate cloak!" Keele gave Fairen a sideways, sly look. "What do you think?"
Fairen was surprised at how excited he was at the idea.
A couple of days later, Fairen got discharged out of the medical quarter, after having been thoroughly looked at (and then some, to the request and perseverance of Lissa) by the clerics and head nurse Mary. Chrom went to talk to Fairen about plans to mobilize the Shepherds soon. There was talk amongst the Warren Circle about their next objective, and Chrom asked if Fairen thought he was well enough to join the march. Determined, Fairen reassured Chrom that he was more than ready and willing to set out. Chrom did offer some assistance to get Fairen back into fighting condition through a training regimen that would last until deployment, to which Fairen agreed to.
And so Fairen found himself reconvening at the training grounds inside the castle property: a large section of field and buildings that were developed specifically for the use of castle and town guard training. Wearing but a simple armless brown shirt, matching brown shorts, and leather shoes (all borrowed from some royal resource Chrom had access to, as Keele had not sent any clothes to Fairen by that point), Fairen observed the yard before him in all its glory at seven-thirty in the morning with nary a cloud in the sky. A large grass field, cut trim, made up the majority of the training grounds, with multiple wooden buildings off to the north, the castle to the east, and a short path to the castle stables back north. A dirt oval track was dug around the field. Far away at the very base of the castle walls was a lengthy, challenging, and impressive obstacle course, consisting of many crawling, climbing, and jumping challenges, all for improving agility through muddy, war-like environments. The buildings north housed the castle guard training barracks, as well as a cafeteria and, somehow, a weight room. Outside the buildings themselves the ground was paved with cobblestone, and several straw-and-wood dummies were lined up one by one next to each other against the wall, ready and standing as practice that never attacked back.
Fairen was to meet with his training leader outside the barracks, Chrom had told him the previous day. What Chrom failed to mention, however, much to Fairen's horror, as Fairen made his way around the bend of the barracks corner, was that his training leader was Frederick. He met face-to-face with the stony-eyed Paladin, who adorned his blue battle armour as casually as one would with pajamas, and he gave Fairen a harsh, cold glare that froze up and down Fairen's spine.
"Why are you wearing a pair of rings?" Frederick questioned, eyeing dull, maroon rings on both of Fairen's hands. Fairen felt like Frederick's scowl was etched into his pointing eyebrows. "Jewlery is not allowed during field training."
"Do you want me to use my magic by accident?" Fairen said, pinching the ring on his right hand and shifting it around. "They're inhibitors. It's to keep me from using my Adrenis magic. Otherwise, During the training, I might accidentally use magic instead of my physical energy."
"I thought you said you wouldn't be casting magic for a 'long time'?" Frederick questioned, his frown intense. "Would you somehow end up losing the rest of your soul due to a little exercise?"
Fairen glowered. "For your information, Adrenis magic and Soul magic are two different things. Adrenis is used with the body and emotion, and Soul is used with the mind. You can use one without the other. Just because I use Adrenis magic it doesn't mean I'll lose my soul." Fairen detected a twitch from Frederick's eyebrow, and the battlemage bore a smirk. "You wouldn't want me cheating, would you?"
"Fair enough," Frederick relented. "If this magic works as you claim, it would be best to work your body without any unintended enhancers."
And thus, Frederick got Fairen to it. He explained to Fairen what their training regimen would look like: twenty laps around the track to start, where one lap was the length of a war field (a unit of measurement that held no meaning to Fairen), and then seven runs through the intermediate obstacle course, then lastly some weapon training against the dummies at the battle court. Fairen took the information in stride, a strong, unyielding frown on his face, eyes glowing with some confidence. Fairen started around the track at a jog while Frederick watched from the sidelines, eyes narrows.
Just after one lap, Frederick was urging Fairen to pick up his pace. To Frederick's surprise, Fairen's determined scowl hardened and his feet moved faster. Frederick's improving opinion faltered, however, as he watched Fairen's speed wilt within the next two laps, coming to a half-jog, half-quick-walk while Fairen's stamina was absent, Fairen panting and almost swaying with every step, exhausted in breath and energy.
"Enough, stop," Frederick said as Fairen reached around on his seventh lap. Fairen slowed and did as he was told. "Walk with me for the length of this part of the track."
Fairen and Frederick strode in tandem down the track, Frederick setting the pace with a decent cadence. Fairen put his knuckles on his hips, posture straight as he breathed in and out, letting the fresh morning air work through his system.
"I can't believe how fit you were in battle previously compared to now," Frederick commented, clearly unhappy. "It is night and day. Were you merely fooling us, disguising your true fitness with that magic of yours?"
Fairen held his hands out limply, gesturing to his rings with a tired smile. "Adrenis magic does wonders. I've been with magic for so long that my physical state actually sucks, and my time in the lab doing research for the Academis kept me from doing anything about it."
"You seemed fine when milady healed your stomach wound," Frederick said, tone expressing confusion. "Your upper body was decently toned for someone who also practices so much magic. If not for your clothes and demeanour, I would have assumed you to be a war monk."
"Once again: magic."
"Does your magic do everything?" Frederick asked somewhat coarsely.
Fairen's smirk was coy and brash. "If you're good enough? Almost."
Frederick from that point had moved Fairen on to the obstacle course, which Fairen could barely do two rounds of. Once again, Frederick stopped the regiment after Fairen returned to the start of the intermediate course to try again.
"We shall stop training for the day," Frederick announced with no fanfare, only neutrality.
"What? But I can keep going!" Fairen said between breaths, his face covered in dirt, mud, and sweat, arms and legs slick with perspiration and ground-up bits of the obstacle course's pits.
"It is clear that you do not have the tenacity or endurance to complete the full training," Frederick explained. "You had already struggled during stamina athletics, and you can barely handle environment agility. There is no point continuing any longer, and I doubt that you will be able to raise a sword, much less a wooden one, for more than thirty seconds if we get to weapon training."
"Frederick," Fairen began, "I can do this!"
Frederick watched Fairen's body heave and sway with an unsteadiness before turning away from Fairen. "There is a hallway connected to the bath houses in the soldier's barracks. I suggest you change and visit them when you have recovered enough strength. We will begin again at the same time tomorrow. Do not be late."
"Frederick!" Fairen cried out in rage.
Frederick glanced over his shoulder at Fairen with a stern expression. "Quit your protesting. You would not even be considered for the city guard in your state." Frederick began walking away. "That, however, can, and only can, change with time."
Fairen watched Frederick leave, his heart still beating to a jog, until he fell to his knees and pounded the dirt in frustration.
The sun was still hanging lazy and sideways against the sky. It hadn't even been one and a half hours.
The next day had not gotten any better. Fairen went eleven track laps and an obstacle course lap and a half before Frederick said no and sent him to the baths again. The third consecutive day was worse, as the fatigue in Fairen's limbs from doing so much straight physical activity without much day-rest caught up to him.
And yet, Frederick didn't find Fairen to complain a single time after his outburst on the first day. He didn't whine about how hard he was working, he didn't care about the soreness of his limbs, and he listened to Frederick's every command willingly and without question. Frederick was ready to get harsher with Fairen, anticipating push back. But, Fairen kept on plodding forward with every step on the track until Frederick said stop, and he kept jumping, climbing, and traversing the wood mud structure that made up the obstacle course until he was dismissed. And after training, he would leave, take a bath, and be ready for it the next day, all without a single word.
"Aren't you being a bit hard on him, Frederick?" Sully asked on the fourth day, herself in workout gear (white shirt and some baggy shorts), standing next to Frederick as the two of them watched Fairen once again force his legs forward around the track. "I mean, couldn't you give him a day break between training bouts?"
"He is performing a training regimen that any member of the royal guard would be able to easily complete," Frederick said calmly, his eyes not leaving Fairen's sluggish figure.
"But he's not a member of the guard," Sully said.
"Yes, I am holding him to a much higher standard. He is a Shepherd, and as such he needs to have the stamina and capacity to be able to save the prince at any moment's notice. I am training him with the goal to reach that point."
Sully winced. "Would you make Miriel or Ricken do the same thing?"
"Of course not," Frederick reasoned as Fairen turned the bend towards the end of his sixth lap. "They perform wildly different roles in the Shepherds as primarily magic-wielders. Fairen, however, must be trained harder than a guard would because he does not know our common magic, and as such will have to brandish a physical weapon much like the rest of us. Even if he were to wield a bow in battle and attack from afar, if he could not last thirty minutes in battle without his 'magic', then he would be more of a burden than a boon."
"Yeah, that makes sense, but... I mean for Pete's sake, he just got out of medical!" Sully argued. "If a maimed soldier was released and went back to training, Chrom would make sure that they would at least take it easier until they could fully recover!"
Frederick gave Sully a pointed look. "I would normally agree with you, except that Fairen is unusually and quite oddly sturdy for a man his size and stature. No normal warrior would have their intestines spewed on the battlefield, heal to almost full capacity shortly after, and be awake and on the road to the next destination. And, they certainly wouldn't be awake and lively for the following days after." He gestured towards their subject, who finally entered his sixth round. "Do you not see the look of determination on his face? It is my job to guide him to fitness, fitness for the army and fitness for the Shepherds, and if I can get him to reach that goal faster by slightly pushing him then it will be all the better."
Sully simply stared, eyebrows high, at Frederick, then at Fairen, who, despite his feet slightly scraping against the dirk, was still jogging to the best of his ability, at the fastest speed he could consistently manage.
"If he reaches a point in the session where I think he will hurt himself, then I will stop him. I am here to gauge his progress. But if you think I will allow him a reprieve more than he needs, then you are mistaken."
Sully chuckled. "You've put a lot of thought into this. Kind of reminds me of when you trained me, is all. It looks like that shit's much harder on him than it was on me."
"Not reminding you enough, it seems," Frederick said, turning to Sully. "Apparently, it's been so long since you've trained under me that you've forgotten how I handle my training philosophies. Perhaps it is time to have you revisit the topic once again."
Sully threw up her hands and backed away slowly with a grin. "Alright, alright! I get it! I'll stop with the questions!" She walked away and towards the weight room. "Good grief."
With a small smile, Frederick brought his attention back to Fairen, who had stopped for a very brief moment, leaning on his knees to catch his breath, before he started his run once again.
During his fifth day of training, Fairen saw a flicker of light in the corner of his eye at one of the upper floors of Castle Ylissia, a looming outline of a figure in the candlelight of the hallway. They dashed away suddenly, the night's darkness encompassing the open window outside. He paid no attention to it, and focused solely on what he could visually make out of his running shoes under the pale luminance of the moon above, few clouds in the sky.
His mind was completely on putting one foot in front of the other at an acceptable jogger's pace, and nothing else. Dirt and mud matted his sweat-covered arms and legs. Dribbling perspiration would roll down his forehead and threaten to get into his eyes. He shook his head to try and dislodge the offending drops, afraid of blinding himself with the soil on his hands if he tried to wipe it away. He was panting, constantly out of breath, and felt as if his lungs were a twenty-pound sack of meat set on fire. His throat was raw from the past hour and a half of air quickly and constantly moving through it without a break. The taste of dehydration was ripe on his tongue. With each step he seemed to sway, his balance gone to the light northern breeze that seemed to grace him, but he directed all his willpower, all his mental courage onto moving forward continuously on the dirt track.
He was on his eighth lap, but had spent the majority of his time prior at the obstacle course five times, missing jumps and falling off of platforms and wooden bridges due to the low light condition. He took a few hits when he would land harshly on the ground, and took hits to the head once or twice, but after he was done the course, he was still ready and willing to do laps around the track. He did not allow himself a moment of respite. It was go, go, go, the only company around him were the guards patrolling the area, who he spoke to before he started and notified them of his activities beforehand so they wouldn't suddenly assault him in misunderstanding.
Fairen had turned the last bend, the final stretch of his eighth lap before him. His vision was blurry. He couldn't see properly anymore. It seemed as if his limbs flailed in a weak impression of running instead of actually, properly functioning. His clothes were soaked from head to toe with sweat. He couldn't stop. He mustn't stop. And yet, a few steps after the start line, his pace slowed, feet dragging in the dirt, until the strength in his legs gave out and he fell to his knees.
Leaning forward, he planted his hands on the ground for support, heaving, upper chest expanding and contracting rapidly but on tempo, tongue hanging out and letting out hot droplets from withing his mouth out with every exhale. His eyes watered. He was so tired. The word "exhausted" wouldn't cover it. And yet, all he thought was that he was taking a quick, sixty-second break before he would get back up, continue, and finish his last three laps. He had it envisioned: the success of his workout would be his eventually. His emotions boiled up from the inside, the Adrenis magic that would normally fuel him blocked by the rings around his fingers. He just needed one, quick, break. He was so damn tired.
Suddenly, someone pushed him upright and grabbed him by the crew neck. Fairen was hoisted up, weakly putting his hands on the offending grip of his assaulter, mind scrambling to try and figure out what was going on. His neck cried in protest at the pain that was born from the shirt material digging into his skin.
"What in Her Divine Grace do you think you are doing?" a voice growled. Fairen found himself staring face-to-face in the enraged brown eyes of Frederick.
"Finishing my training... for the day," Fairen said between breaths, unable to gather enough power in his arms to try and resist Frederick's grasp.
"What part of 'take to the bathhouse' did you not understand earlier? Or have these past five days of routine and rest pass by your head?" Frederick said, shaking Fairen, practically speaking through grit teeth.
Fairen's expression hardened, eyes squinting. "I know what it's like out there, Frederick. I've seen battle. I've seen war. Out there, if you don't have the strength to do the job, if you can't follow through with your orders because you're too weak, you're dead. You're dead or you'll cause death to those around you."
"So, you are running yourself to death's door from fear of failing in battle?" Frederick asked, incredulous.
"Frederick," Fairen began, scowling. "There is no half-assing it. If I can't do the simple twenty laps and seven runs on the course, what kind of a soldier am I? I can't cut it like that on the battlefield. You get it done or you die. That's how it is."
"You will not be able to reach the battlefield if you grind your arms and legs into paste working yourself this hard!" Frederick explained. "I stop your training at certain points for a reason. You should not kill yourself trying to reach a higher level of fitness!"
Fairen barked out a half-baked laugh, followed by a wheeze. His head lolled in the direction his body heaved as it still tried to suck in as much air as it could. "It's either kill myself training, or kill myself trying to save those I care about in battle. Either way, the end's the same."
Something changed in Frederick's gaze. The corners of his eyes sharpened, like the side of a blade to a whetstone. "There are no martyrs in the Shepherds, Fairen. What would milord say if he saw you becoming this ragged for his cause, ruining himself under his name? What would milady say, seeing you like this, doing this to yourself, after weeping over what she thought to be your dead body, then resurrecting you from the brink?"
Fairen had to look away. The bob of bone in the center of his neck jumped as he swallowed.
"What would Lissa say?" Frederick said, his eyes softening ever so slightly. Then, he left go, dropping Fairen to the ground. Fairen harshly landed on his knees, dropping to all fours once again, letting out a grunt. Even though his pulse continued to race, his breathing finally decelerated.
"You must begin to put your trust into us. I understand you've barely been a Shepherd for a month, and you've only been on one outing with us, but you still must find it inside you to trust and work with us. We are all here to help you, giving everything we can to help you. You do not have to prove yourself any more to any of us. We've all either seen, or heard of, what you can do, and what you have done for us already. There is no need to sacrifice yourself unnecessarily."
Fairen cackled again, and shook his head. "I thought you think I'm still untrustworthy?" Fairen took a small breather. "I can't actually tell what's up with you. One moment you're helping me make a compromise, and the next you're sabotaging my relations with the exalt. What's your game?"
"There is none," Frederick said.
"Bullshit," Fairen spat. "You hate my guts. Admit it."
Frederick lend down a hand towards Fairen. "Some amount of caution in every circumstance is wise. That is why I choose to warn the exalt about some existing factors about you. But, I do not 'hate your guts,' Fairen."
Fairen peered up to look at Frederick, then at his hand. He spat to the side, sneering. "Fucking dick." With that, he took Frederick's hand and was helped up. "But thanks."
"You will not be thanking me tomorrow, with the soreness you are about to experience," Frederick said. He took a moment to chew on his next words. "In fact, we shall take a break from training tomorrow. We will begin again on the day after."
Fairen had no more energy for words, and instead nodded.
"The bathhouses may be still open this time of night," Frederick said as he began to walk off, Fairen soon following behind him. "If not, I can ask the maids to get one running for you again. Or I can ask milord if he can get a servant to do so if the maids are unavailable."
"Please don't drag Chrom any more into this," Fairen asked.
Frederick hummed. "I might have to, in order for you to go to bed clean."
"Please don't."
"I may as well, anyway."
Fairen tsked, and turned his head to the outer wall protecting the castle compound, Frederick simply smirked. In truth, Frederick led Fairen up to the barracks, where he got a maid to start a bath just for Fairen.
Chrom was none the wiser the next day.
"Thank you all for coming today," Chrom said, leaning on the center wooden table in the Shepherd's garrison, his face etched in serious business. He was surrounded by all his cohorts: Frederick, who stood beside and behind him with his ridged stance and expression, Sully, who folded her arms and watched Chrom with a semi-casual air, Virion, who leaned on a wooden crate half his size as he smirked, and the others Chrom noticed, including Sumia, Vaike, and Stahl. Chrom glanced around the room at everyone before continuing. "I hope you've all had a well and restful couple of weeks, but we are to move out soon for a new objective."
Frederick took a rolled-up, sizable piece of parchment from the table and rolled it out in front of Chrom for everyone to see. The Shepherds leaned in, trying to spot what was on the paper. It was a map of the continent, with the boarders of Ylisse, Plegia, and Regna Ferox outlined along with some smaller states and kingdoms along the eastern coast.
"As you all know, Ylisse has, over the past couple of weeks, become victim to several barbarian and brigand bands. Scout reports have revealed that these bands have consistently originated from west of the Ylissian border."
"The bandits of the Plegian wastes," Stahl noted.
"Psh. As if anyone doubted it was the Plegians at work," Sully scoffed.
"Regardless," Chrom continued, "The Warren Council, as well as the exalt and myself, have found it pertinent to establish an allied connection with our neighbors to the north, the Feroxi."
This rose a couple of eyebrows in surprise.
"They are a people of great warrior strength, and we'll need that strength to quell this menace of barbarians, as well as with any future incursion with the Plegians. Typically, the Exalt would request such aid in person. But given recent events, as well as the increased dangers in the kingdom, it wouldn't be a good idea for Emm to leave the capital. Thus, the task has been passed to us." Chrom pointed to the road between Ylisse and Feroxi land. "In three days, we'll be marching to Regna Ferox. Fortunately, the Council have been kind enough to send some additional units with us. We'll all be rounded out with soldiers fitting of our duties. Lancers for Sully and Stahl, fighters for Vaike, cavaliers for Frederick, and so forth. We'll have a potential force of fifty strong."
Chrom looked up from the map. "These three days before our journey will be used to gather supplies needed. If you have any other duties to tend to before then, you should do them as soon as possible. Of course, this mission is strictly voluntary, so if, for any reason, if you cannot attend, then I, as well as any of the other Shepherds, will understand."
"Are you kidding me?" Sully said, not waiting for a pause at the end of Chrom's words. "Why would I wait out on this? I'm in."
"Me too!" Vaike exclaimed. "You'll be needin' ol' Teach along for such a delicate mission!"
"I'll go as well," Kellam, a large, soft-faced man with short, brown hair and large, bulky blue knight armour, said. Everyone turned to look at him. The situation became suddenly awkward as Kellam looked back and forth between everyone's stares. "What? I've been here the whole time!"
"I, uh, um..." Sumia said, fiddling with her fingers, uncertain.
Chrom nodded at her. "Yes, Sumia?"
"It's just that..." Sumia started slowly, "I'm not sure I'm quite ready for a proper mission just yet. I'd probably get in the way."
Chrom's face relaxed. "Well, you could stay behind the main group, and if a battle is met, you could watch and learn. Your choice, of course. But some lessons can only be learned on the battlefield."
Sumia's eyes darted to and from Chrom's. "W-well, if you think it wise, Captain."
"Just stay by me and you'll be fine," Chrom said. Sumia stood up straight and beamed at Chrom. Chrom turned to the rest of the group. "Any of you have any questions?"
"Yeah," Vaike said, putting his hand up for a brief moment. "Where's Lissa and Fairen? Are they skipping out on this?"
"Lissa had gone out with Fairen to pick up his new armour," Chrom explained. "I already told Lissa of the situation and told her to notify Fairen. They should be back soon, but Lissa already said she was willing to come with us."
"What about Fairen?" Vaike asked.
"We'll know when they get back," Chrom said.
Just then, the main door to the garrison burst open in a flurry of yellow, the door's sturdy wooden form slamming into the stone wall with a crash.
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!" Lissa announced with a flourish, hands high, standing on her tippy toes as the shine in her gaze matched her wide smile. "May I present to you, the great, the grand, the most distinguished master magician, portal conqueror, and axe artisan this side of the Ylissian Quarter, Fairen!"
From the open entrance, beyond the blinding light that the sun rained in outside, Fairen strode through with four solid steps. He stood in place before everyone as everyone took a look at what Lissa was talking about.
Fairen was equipped in plated, silver-shaded armour, from his upper to lower body. He had plates sewn and connected to thin, fitted pants that protected his thighs, knees, and behind. Armoured boots attached to his feet, the metal rising up beyond his shins in typical Ylissian fashion, protecting his ankles, but the bottoms of his boots were tall and rounded with iron at the toes, a thick inch of extra metal pressed into the heel and midsole. His upper body wore similar armour to his pants, with a medium breastplate hanging off his shoulders and protecting his ribcage, along with a series of smaller steel pieces slated along and around his stomach. One could spot the golden chainmail at his neck, sitting between his armour and a white shirt he had on underneath, his ruby necklace on top of it all.
But stealing the show was his leather jacket, custom fit, reaching all along his arms and down his torso, appearing much like his only one, except newer and without the scars of battle. It reached further down than his last, going past the bottom end of his hips, but was otherwise perfect in arm length and neck radius. There were two large pockets on the outside of the jacket in front, one for each hand, and a metal zipper that he could use to close the jacket. On his back were a series of sideways straps and belts that held nothing, but had the potential to carry a backpack or a weapon if need be. It was clear that parts of the jacket had metal plates between the fabric, with the bottom of the jacket hanging down with a weight, the shoulders clearly rounded out, and the back curved in a consistent angle.
Fairen adjusted the turquoise gauntlets on his hands, the fingers covered in thin leather and the knuckles metal that reached up his wrist, becoming hidden in the arm of his jacket. A wild smirk adorned Fairen's face, and when he was satisfied with his gauntlets, he looked Chrom straight into the eye, his usually gaunt visage filled with life.
"I'm with you all, Chrom. Let's go recruit some allies."
CLASS CHANGE! (Due to story-based progression)
Fairen
Class: Explorer = Recruit
Level: 3 - 2 = 1
HP: 20 + 2 = 22
STR: 6 + 2 = 8
MAG: 8 – 6 = 2
SKL: 7 + 2 = 9
SPD: 8 + 2 = 10
LCK: 1 + 2 = 3
DEF: 6 + 1 = 7
RES: 7 – 6 = 1
MOV: 5
Level-up Quote: "Feeling real sore after all that running..."
WEAP. LVL: Lance = E
Skills Equipped:
- Beginner's Luck: While unpromoted or below LVL 10, gain +3 to STR and SKL for 3 fights after leveling.