Chapter 6: The First Kill

"No need to worry. We've lost them."

A sigh of relief left Robin's lips as Vaike and Frederick returned. The soldiers assigned to follow Chrom's party had finally been lost in the trees, leaving the rest of their squad free to rescue the prince. Dusk was already upon them, and as much as everyone wanted to rest, there was no time. As Robin stood, Miriel continued to pour over the map they'd pulled from Frederick's supplies. She'd waited with him during the time the others were gone, and between his tactical experience and her analysis, he felt confident they had a solid plan to work him.

"Shall I take that as a sign that we are ready to depart?" Frederick asked, holding his lance tightly. He'd been on edge ever since their encounter and Chrom's abduction, and despite his misgivings earlier, he was probably the most eager of them all to get the prince back. It was obvious in his tense shoulders and furrowed brow, both of which seemed to be more tense and furrowed than usual.

The young tactician nodded in response. "While you two were gone, Miriel and I were studying the maps of this area. I think we found the fortresses those bandits were talking about."

Almost as if on cue, Miriel pointed to a spot on the map marked with two small edifices in the middle of a forest. "If the map is current, then their cover is limited. Robin and I have come up with a strategy, and if it works, we will draw them out into the open and take their base for ourselves."

Vaike crossed his arms. "And how exactly are we gonna do that?"

"I'm terribly glad you asked, Vaike," Robin replied, a grin growing on his face. "This is going to take all of us and all of our talents. And you? You're going to be our distraction."

"This is a terrible plan."

"I am aware."

Frederick sighed, crouching even lower into the foliage. Close to one hundred yards away was a pair of the bandits patrolling, and from the brief reconnaissance the group had done, there was most likely another pair watching the second fortress. Whether or not the one Robin and the knight were currently staking out was where Chrom was being held was up to sheer chance, but the odds were half and half.

Robin kept waiting, knowing that Vaike and Miriel would come through soon. Now, he wished they'd come up with a way to communicate when exactly the distraction would happen. Alas, those details hadn't been ironed out, and Robin left his fate, as well as the fate of the prince, in the hands of those two.

Anticipation was thick in the air, but still, nothing continued to happen. Robin clenched his jaw to steel himself, causing Frederick to glance over. After a moment, the cavalier spoke. "You know, he'll never admit it to you, but this isn't the first mishap the young lord has had during his missions."

Robin turned in surprise, caught off guard by the statement as well as the fact that Frederick had actually spoken to him. By the sounds of his words… Wait, was he trying to reassure him? "I don't understand. How could you possibly call this a 'mishap?' This is a catastrophe!"

Frederick shrugged his broad shoulders. "The very first mission he and I were on together, he swung Falchion with such force that it embedded itself into a tree. The enemy managed to dodge and to make a long story short, the sword was stolen in the midst of the battle. It was missing for approximately two days before a small band of knights recovered it. Lord Chrom was devastated."

"Wait, are you being serious right now?"

"I am quite serious. I'm not telling you this to somehow undermine the gravity of what you've done, but rather to tell you that things are not perfect. If we fail to recover the prince, however…" Frederick trailed off, but Robin understood.

"Thank you, Frederick."

He only nodded in response. Perhaps Frederick really didn't despise him after all…

The two continued to wait anxiously, but Robin would be lying if he said he didn't feel more at ease now. Once this mission was over, maybe he'd have finally earned Frederick's trust. Well, that is, if the event earlier in the day didn't completely shatter it. Minutes passed, and the patrol finally came back into view.

"Come on, come on…" Robin hissed under his breath. If those bandits made another pass around the fortress, they'd have to wait for what felt like an eternity for another chance.

Finally, as if hearing his silent prayers, a loud whinny and shout came from the distance, followed by the stamping of hooves. Frederick's horse certainly was pulling his weight for now. Then, in a husky voice that he identified as Vaike's, the shouting got louder. For only being a young adult, he sure had the voice of a grown man, and for that, Robin was thankful. It wasn't long after that the smell of smoke faintly hit his nose, and he scanned the treeline for the source.

There! Fire!

Almost at the same time he spotted it, so did the bandits on patrol. The flames were small and contained to begin with, but with the strange shouts and hollers Vaike was giving out, something was definitely up in their minds. One of the bandits gestured in the direction of the flames, and the two sprinted off together. One from the far fortress soon joined them as they raced out to the scene, and Robin guessed the other had gone to warn someone.

Frederick, also noticing this, glanced to Robin for permission, which he gave without saying a word. As stealthily as he could, Frederick crept out of the bushes and headed for the far fortress, lance raised and at the ready. As he disappeared behind a corner, Robin held his breath. He took not his sword, but his tome in his hands, dashing out towards the closer fortress. Every step he took sounded so loud to his ears- the enemy had to be hearing him!

Relax.

There it was again, that sickening voice. It had put him on edge all afternoon, and now, without warning or reason, it returned to his head. Ignoring it as best he could, Robin pressed himself tightly against the wall, staying hidden in the shadows.

You're not relaxing.

Oh, he knew he wasn't relaxing. The voice sounded so irritated with him, and yet, so amused.

There's no way you're this stressed when you go and practice your spells or tactics. This isn't any different! Just take the emotion out of this and think logically… Think tactically. You made a plan, and it's worked so far. Now stick to it, boy!

As much as Robin wanted to argue, the reasoning in that statement was sound. He'd had no plan when they were ambushed, but now, things were different. Things were in his hands.

In the distance, he heard a yelp of pain, though it did not come from Miriel or Vaike. The fire had come from the mage's tome, meaning she could control it, so that meant that they had engaged with the enemy.

Knowing he had to move, Robin forced himself to take a step, followed by another. Soon, he was sprinting, his breath steady as he rounded the corner of the fortress and came upon the entrance. There was one bandit standing, but he was only half-awake.

Quickly, Robin scanned his lessons. There were fatal points on the body, as well as places where non-fatal blows could be dealt. Without stopping his stride, Robin flung open his tome and conjured a ball of thunder in his hand. The electricity crackled, and the bandit looked up, unaware of what was happening until Robin threw his hand forward and the blast slammed the man into the wall. He slumped forward, and with almost perfect timing, the tactician pulled out his sword in his free hand and slammed the handle into the back of the man's head. With a small groan, the man fell face-first, and Robin rushed inside.

A few small lanterns were lit throughout the interior, giving him a slight sense of where things were. There was no one else in the main room, so he pressed forward. These fortresses weren't all that large, so with a quick onceover, he made the decision to head upstairs. If Chrom wasn't there, he'd have the high ground coming back down.

Robing was careful not to make too much noise as he hurried up the stone steps, and as he ran, he felt an odd sensation in his mind. It was like that voice was speaking once again, but there weren't any words, just… feelings.

"What is it now?" Robin asked the voice, trying to recall how he had communicated with it before. He didn't feel his lips move, but he absolutely heard sound, so he prayed he had spoken to it successfully.

That man! You could have killed him! Ugh, he was down and helpless and unaware, and all you did was smack him a little!

"I'm not going to kill anyone if I don't have to," Robin replied firmly. He reached the top of the stairs and whirled his head around, relieved he wasn't followed. With tome and sword at the ready, he ducked into a nearby crevice, spotting a closed door ahead.

The voice did not respond, and after a moment to breathe, Robin advanced. He must have been heard though, for the door burst open and two bandits faced him with their weapons drawn.

"I am not afraid," Robin whispered to himself. With one step forward, he began to channel the energy from the tome he carried, and upon realizing he did not have a free hand to concentrate the magic into, the tactician focused the magic into the bronze weapon he held. Unsure if it would work, he winced and closed his eyes, but sure enough, a blast of thunder magic gathered at the tip of the blade.

Utterly shocked at what they were seeing, the brigands charged. One swung his axe heavily at Robin, who sidestepped out of the way, just missing the attack. The other swiped at him, to which he countered with his electric blade. Mustering enough strength, Robin forced the second attacker's axe away and threw a jab with his weapon, letting control of the magic go. With the sword's momentum, the spell sent the man flying back a few feet, which was just enough to give the boy the time he needed to spin and counter the other opponent.

The second swing was much less easily dodged, and in an act of desperation, Robin dropped the tome and stopped the attack with both hands on his sword. It was an awkward stance, and the pressure finally started to make his stance wobble. With a hiss of worry, Robin drew his weapon out of their stalemate, suffering a gash on the left arm of his new cloak as well as the skin underneath. If he'd had the time to worry over the loss, he would have, but using the bandit's now open stance against him, Robin shoved him away as hard as he could with a kick. Luckily, the man stumbled, allowing for enough time to pick up his tome and cast another spell. The force of the magic slammed into the man, and Robin knew he was still conscious. It didn't seem like he'd move after that hit, so he let him be.

The second attacker returned, but Robin was ready. He charged another spell and concentrated it into his sword once again, causing the man to rush in with even more desperation. Before he could strike, Robin swiped at his chest, lightly cutting through his flesh. The thunder spell followed the arc of the blade in a beautiful combo, and that was another attacker down.

Inside the room they'd emerged from, there was no one else, and Robin bitterly realized that Chrom was most likely in the other fortress. After all, the remaining guard on patrol had returned to that fortress rather than this one, which was where their boss probably was. Quickly, he sheathed his sword and ran back past his fallen opponents. The blood was starting to pool at the site of his injury, but Robin could hardly feel a thing. The adrenaline racing through him was more than enough to override the pain, reducing it to a dull ache instead.

There wasn't much to search downstairs, and once he was satisfied, he left the fortress through the same entrance he'd come in.

Three enemies… You took out three enemies when you couldn't even defeat one earlier. See what happens when you relax during combat?

It was Robin's turn not to respond to the voice, and as he headed towards the second stronghold, he heard much more commotion. Tome raised and at the ready, he entered. The guard outside had been taken out by Frederick, and as Robin moved past, he noticed there was a rather deep stab wound in the man's abdomen. Frederick really was strong, he thought. He must have been holding back earlier, when nonviolence was the ideal plan.

On the ground floor inside, Frederick was fighting off two enemies at once, but he didn't seem to be struggling too much. Some of the armor on his shoulders had definitely been hit, but none of it appeared to hinder him. Without even turning to see Robin had entered, Frederick called out to him. "Second floor!"

Robin had to do a double-take, but once he realized what Frederick meant, he rushed upstairs. One of the cavalier's opponents tried to break free of their combat and focus on Robin, but he was shielded by Frederick, who flicked his head up at the second level, telling the tactician to hurry.

There was no one out on the second level, so without delay, Robin flung the door at the end of the hall open and found Chrom sitting against the wall, his hands still bound. "Robin?" he asked groggily. "It's about time…"

"Save it for later, please," the tactician muttered in response, working to untie the prince before reinforcements arrived from the forest. "I'm afraid we're not done yet. Vaike and Miriel caused a distraction, but they should have fled by now, which means the guys that went after them will be back soon."

Chrom nodded, forcing himself to be more alert. As the ropes finally loosened their hold on his wrists, he let out a sigh of relief. "Listen, if we're still going to fight our way out of this, I need your sword. Their leader- Garrick, I think they called him- has Falchion."

"Understood." As soon as Chrom was free, he handed the prince his measly bronze sword. He inspected the weapon with a smirk.

"Seriously? Robin, this is a beginner's blade. You've trained with at least some iron blades before, so why didn't you take one of those? Bronze won't cause as much damage."

"Can we not talk about this right now?"

Chrom shrugged, but dropped the topic and led them out the door, checking to make sure no one was waiting for them outside. In the main room below, Frederick had finished off one of his enemies, but the sounds of the reinforcements returning were getting closer. "Come on!"

Almost like instinct, Chrom jumped into battle beside his cavalier protector. They exchanged nonlethal blows in combos, overwhelming their foe until he dropped his weapon and raised his hands in surrender. It was almost too impressive to watch. Clearly, the two were an experienced pair. Frederick collected the man's weapon and told him to stand aside, which he did without question.

As Chrom prepared for another round of combat, Frederick held out his hand. "Milord, I can handle them. You must find the divine blade."

A sour look appeared on Chrom's face, and he beckoned Robin to his side. Before he could say anything, the brigand he had gotten to surrender chimed in. "Garrick is in that room," he said, pointing to a door at the back of the ground level with a shaky finger. "He'll be awaitin' for you though, so be careful…"

The prince dipped his head respectfully to the man. "What's your name?

"Me name's Jonah."

"Well then, thank you Jonah."

Chrom's polite attitude seemed so out of place in the heat of the moment, but Robin couldn't help but recall what his father had said earlier: Chrom was learning how to become less arrogant. Perhaps this was just one example of that.

The door Jonah had spoken of was closed and most likely locked, so Robin held his tome up to Chrom questioningly. The prince gave him a look that more or less said "why not?" and so he let loose another thunder spell at the wood, causing splinters to fly everywhere. Chrom lifted his cape to shield his eyes whilst Robin simply turned his back, but the door was definitely weakened. With one great charge from Chrom, it swung open, revealing absolutely nothing in the darkness.

A frown fell upon his face. "I thought he was supposed to be in here," Chrom muttered to himself. Only then did Robin lift his eyes to the rafters, where the white's of the man's eyes caught the faintest hint of light, giving his position away.

"Chrom! Above you!"

The warning came just in time, as Garrick pounced down and Chrom swiftly leapt out of the way. Unlike Robin, his sword did not shake in his hands as he held it, and he took a confident swing at the man. Garrick, much more skilled than most of his men, managed to block the blow, and Robin watched on, the hesitation returning. Chrom had this all under control, right?
Oh, he doesn't.

Almost the exact instant he heard the voice, Garrick managed to land a blow to the unarmored section of Chrom's arm, causing the prince to take a small step of retreat. Before their foe could strike again, Robin steeled himself and attacked, landing a hit that made Garrick's hair stand on end from the charge.

Well, you certainly have his attention now.

During Garrick's recoil, Chrom attacked again, breaking skin and muscle on the other man. Like with Frederick, the blow was nonlethal, but if the fight continued at the same pace, the man was sure to lose.

Realizing the two-on-one disadvantage, Garrick snarled and gained some distance in the small room before chucking his axe at Chrom, who was absolutely surprised by the move. He yelped in surprise as he knocked the weapon to the ground with his reaction, but that was just what the brigand had intended. As an occupied Chrom watched the weapon, Garrick went for the weaker of the two teens, delivering a harsh blow with his fist to Robin's stomach. The tactician doubled over, and Garrick held him tightly by his ponytail.

"My, isn't this a familiar situation?" he remarked, following his punch with a knee. Robin lost his breath, sputtering as he felt himself shake in terror and pain.

"Let him go!"

"Nah, not this time. You should stop carrying extra weight in your party, dear prince. It only makes it easier for me to beat ya."

Chrom winced as Garrick struck Robin again, and the tactician's head spun. How could he have let this happen again? Especially when he had a weapon at the ready!

"Help me!" Robin cried out, but his plea was not directed to his friend who watched on in agony.

Help you? How am I supposed to do that?

"I don't know, but you have to help me! Please!"

He could almost hear the voice's smile in its words. Alrighty then, kiddo. I thought you'd never ask.

In what seemed like an instant, the pain spreading throughout the tactician's abdomen faded, and he felt a concentration of magic surge to his hands. It was quicker and stronger than any magic he'd summoned before, and with a swift, almost inhuman twist, he fired an attack at his captor. As soon as the spell made contact and Garrick's grip on his hair loosened, Robin threw his tome to the side and tackled the man to the ground, straddling him. The magic still ran through his body, and without any idea how it happened, a blade of thunder magic formed between his hands. Looking down at Garrick, none of his training crossed his mind, and Robin stabbed the bolt straight through the man's chest. It went through so cleanly, so effortlessly, that it almost surprised him.

"Robin!" Chrom cried out. He took a step forward to help, but Garrick's body had already begun to seize with death. The tactician atop him twisted his makeshift blade, confirming the kill to himself. A smirk rested on his face, and the magical weapon soon faded, the magic too strong for him to continue to hold. He stood, staring blankly at Garrick's body. "… Robin?"

The world around him seemed to spin, and Robin gripped the sides of his head tightly. "Ahhh…" He wobbled, stumbling backwards until he finally fell to his knees, unable to look away from the man's body. Tears poured down his face without any explanation, causing his vision to liquify and blur. His body was hot and shaking, all while his gloved hands felt like ice against his temples. He couldn't even form words, just sounds of despair as he looked on at the man. For such a weapon that he had conjured, there was a minimal loss of blood, but the instant Robin caught a glimpse of crimson coming from the mostly cauterized wound, he lost it. He screamed, his hands growing colder by the instant. He could feel everything, as though a million icy insects crawled beneath the flesh of his hands. His bones ached, his fingernails burned, and he swore he was losing his mind.

Chrom approached him cautiously, keeping his distance as Robin howled in despair. "Robin?" he asked again, but the sound of his name only made the tactician cry louder. Deciding it was best to give him space, Chrom left the room to speak with Frederick. Only one other corpse adorned the floor, as the other two had surrendered and were being tied up at that very moment.

"Milord, what happened?" Frederick asked softly as he finished the knot to bind his second captive.

"He killed him, Frederick. Robin killed their leader." He glanced back to the room, where the hint of light from the lanterns in the main chamber illuminated Robin's hunched figure. The sounds of wailing were soon replaced with sounds of retching, and Chrom could no longer look.

"What evoked that kind of response?"

"I… I don't know. This was his first time in combat, so maybe… Maybe he wasn't prepared to kill. I remember I was the same way when I first took someone's life."

Frederick's gaze filled with pity and concern. "Yes, but never to this extent…"

Chrom could only nod somberly. "I know…" Shifting his attention, he glanced at their two captives. "I suppose we'll take them back to Ylisstol to answer for their crimes then."

"Yes, I suppose so."

A silence fell between them, but soon, Chrom's gaze moved around the room as though he were searching for something. "Wait, Frederick, where's the other one? Jonah?"

"Jonah?" Frederick echoed, joining the prince in searching the room. "I… I am so sorry, milord. He must have run off when I was fighting the reinforcements."

Chrom sighed. "Well, he was only a lackey. I doubt he can do much damage on his own. Should we encounter him again, we should capture him immediately and deliver him to Ylisstol."

"Understood, milord. For now, I will take these two to the rest of our group. Grab the divine blade and Robin when you are ready. He can guide you back to our rendezvous point." With a nod of acknowledgement from the prince, Frederick ushered the two brigands out of the fortress, his lance now sheathed across his back. Once everyone had left, Chrom took a deep breath and approached the room where Robin continued to weep.

Before he could say anything, Robin looked up at him, shame in his eyes. Chrom didn't blame him. Killing was not something one easily acclimated to, and it wasn't very common to kill during your first life-and-death combat.

The prince approached Garrick's body, his gaze avoiding the killing wound. Instead, he knelt down beside the brigand, unhooking Falchion's sheath from the man's belt. Thankfully, nothing had been damaged, and it was indeed the divine blade that rested inside.

"Chrom…" came a soft croak from Robin.

"Yeah? I'm here, it's okay."

"I…" Robin moved his hands from his head to his thighs, where they gripped tightly at the fabric of his pants. "I killed that man… I killed him." He was trembling. "How… Why…"

Chrom took Falchion in one hand and approached him gently. "You did what you had to do, Robin. That was self-defense. He would have killed you if you didn't kill him."

"But I…" Tears continued to stream down his face, and he could no longer look Chrom in the eyes. "I did this… I never wanted to do this… I wasn't ready to do this…"

"I know, I know… But you did what you had to."

Robin swallowed thickly, his dark locks hanging in front of his eyes. "I didn't know what real fighting was like… I didn't know how it felt." He paused and sniffled. "If this is what battle is… I don't ever want to step foot on a battlefield again."

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