A Better Place

by Waywatcher

I can remember a world where I was safe, where war was a notion meant for more violent countries, and where the internet gave me unlimited entertainment and knowledge with a few keystrokes. That world is not this one, and I miss it dearly. At least I have Morgan to keep me alive and sane, and I can provide some use to this world with my knowledge of Awakening. Self-insert.

14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem Awakening, all rights to the owners.

I hope you enjoyed your Morgan break, because it's back to Nathan now. We've hit the first trigger, so Nathan will start to get some proper development now. We also haven't seen any combat in a bit, so how about a little of that, hmm?

---

You know, it never really clicked with me that the Ylisse-Plegia war being almost over definitely means Risen are out and about. I'm bringing this up now because those things ahead of us on the road are certainly Risen.

I can't get too good a look at them from this distance, so I can't tell what type of Risen they are. By type I don't mean myrmidon or great knight or what have you, I mean I don't know if they're Awakening style Risen or Shadows of Valentia style Risen.

Interesting thing about Risen in Shadows of Valentia, they're technically created by attaching these things called "Death Masks" to the face of corpses. You attach the death mask, and a special bug on the back face of the mask called a "thanatophage" will spread its roots inside the corpse and start to puppet it. So Risen in that game are bug-puppeted mask-wearing corpses, with the thanatophages being controlled by a sorcerer in turn by dark magic (presumably through the Death Masks).

Awakening seems to work a bit differently. Risen can be pulled randomly from the ground, like how Aversa summons those archer Risen before Emmeryn's fall, and if I recall correctly people can become Risen through infection like a zombie, though I've only seen that mentioned on the wiki and never went searching for the source info myself. I think it was mentioned in a DLC called Death's Embrace? The point is, despite the fact that Shadows of Valentia is supposed to give an origin for the Risen, if you look closely at how they work the two games have entirely different mechanics for Risen and it would be nice to know which game they correspond to so that we can better understand them. There's a big difference between fighting a zombie virus versus stopping bugs from puppeting corpses.

So, anyhow, there are Risen ahead of us. Noire went off to scout along the left side of the path a dozen minutes ago, where there are sporadic trees to hide her, and when she comes back she has a report for everyone.

"I see twenty." She whispers, despite the fact that the Risen are both upwind from us and over two miles away and definitely can't hear us. "They look like brigand corpses. Two archers, two swordsmen, the rest are axes. No armor, only furs."

"Got it. Those archers are going to have to die first. Or, I guess they're already dead, so… re-die? Is that a thing?" Morgan muses. "Anyhow, I've never dealt with Risen before, or at least I don't remember dealing with them. What do I need to know?"

"They're dirt stupid unless they're being commanded by someone else." Kjelle says. "They usually just mob the closest living thing, though they have enough smarts to use their weapons. Generally speaking the more combat experience the original person had, the more the Risen does, though to a significantly lesser degree unless they're being commanded. You probably won't see any tactics from these ones."

"Chieftains are a problem." Nah adds. "Some Risen seem to lead the others. We don't know exactly how it happens, but it's usually whoever was an actual leader when they were alive."

"What do chieftains do?" Morgan prods.

"They can call for reinforcements for one." Kjelle growls. "And they're responsible for what little sense of tactics a Risen pack might have. A pack without it's chieftain wouldn't notice a flank attack, even an extremely obvious one, until it was right on top of them."

"Okay…" Morgan mutters. She's jotting this down in her notebook. "So the chieftain is going to have to die first along with the archers, if there is one. Anything else?"

I speak up, addressing everyone but Morgan. "I have a question, do the terms Death Mask or Thanatophage mean anything to you three?"

"Nope."

"N-No."

"Nah."

"Ah." I grimace. "Also, do Risen infect people?"

"Not usually." Noire mumbles. "I-In our time, Risen were… varied. Laurent thinks it was mostly because some powerful sorcerers had done experiments to make them stronger, with a bunch of different results. There were certain Risen that could infect, but usually not. I don't think standard Risen like these can do that."

"Got it." Well that could be significant or totally worthless depending on how much I want to hinge on that tiny kernel of "not usually". Awakening Risen are (presumably) supposed to infect people, so if they usually can't that would suggest these are Valentia style Risen, though at the same time none of the girls know what thanatophages or Death Masks are, so I really can't be sure.

"More game stuff?" Morgan asks. "Anything we can use?"

"Unfortunately not." I admit. "I need to narrow some things down, and it's not going to have much battlefield application either way."

"Ah, shame." Morgan mutters. "Okay, so, we have a bit of a problem. Remember those bandits we killed before?"

"The one where I pretended I was a slave owner?" I ask.

"Yeah, that one. Remember how I blew up, like, five bandits at once."

"With Elfire? Yep. Super hot." I joke.

Morgan's mouth twitches to smile, though she swiftly gets it under control. Right, serious time, I shouldn't be joking. "Yeah that… it only really worked because all those trees funneled the bandits into a small area, and they were too stupid to split up. The Risen are on wide open terrain, so my magic is going to be a lot less useful."

"Maybe we can pick some off?" Noire offers. "I-I can get around their flank and shoot a few before everyone else starts to fight."

"The Risen might focus on you then." Kjelle warns. "And we won't be able to get to you in time to help."

"I'm fast." Noire says. "I-I can run for long enough to survive."

"You're all making this too complicated." Nah huffs. "I'll take the lead. They won't be able to do much to me."

Yeah, fair point. Nah is a dragon after all. It leaves a sour taste in my mouth to just ignore the problem of not knowing how to deal with the Risen otherwise just because we have a kill button on our side. "Out of curiosity, how did you guys usually deal with Risen when you didn't have Nah around?"

"We tried to avoid them." Kjelle admits. "Or we'd hole up between some buildings where I could block everything while everyone else shot over my shoulders."

"And if you had to fight in the open?"

"We created terrain with Laurent." Kjelle said. "Making large walls of fire to force Risen to go where we wanted them to. That was usually just so we could run to somewhere safer though. We tried to avoid open-field combat."

Well that's not very useful or reassuring. Then again, maybe I'm asking too much. Kjelle wasn't the tactician anyways, and we do have a usable kill button so it's nothing to worry about. I just… I like knowing we have a backup plan, or that we could handle this without our overwhelming advantage. I don't like the thought that we'd be dead meat without Nah.

Maybe not dead meat, we'd just go around, but still. It's unsettling. This isn't like the game where every single character might as well be a one-man army if you give them a bit of investment. If you want a one-man army, you better have a manakete or else you're out of luck.

Probably. Again, I'm not familiar with this world. Maybe mages are actually one-man armies as well. I don't know. You know, at this point I'm pretty sure I'm distracting myself with theoretics and whatnot just to keep myself calm. Better to not think about the fact that I might be getting a lot closer to zombies then I ever cared to be in less than an hour.

"I should be able to deal with all of them on my own, but they might come to you as well." Nah warns. "So be ready."

"Alright." Morgan says. "There's a lot of distance between them and us, so we should be fine."

"Famous last words." I think, followed quickly by "I really hope they aren't her last words."

Logically I don't have to be worried. The girls (minus Morgan) have fought Risen before, and Morgan is extremely competent either way, but I'm still nervous. I don't care if we'll probably be fine, I still don't want to be putting my life in danger.

"Just in case, I want Kjelle up front though." Morgan instructs. "If they get too close, I want the three of us-" she points to herself, Noire, and me "-to set up a concave and fire in projectiles on the Risen while Kjelle holds their attention."

"Okay." Noire squeaks.

There's quiet for a moment, and it occurs to me that I'm probably supposed to agree too. "Oh, uh, yeah. Concave. Got it."

Kjelle has an expression on her face that makes it clear she's not thrilled at the idea of me watching her back to any extent, and that's fair because I really don't think I'm going to be doing much.

So Nah flies off to go roast some Risen (do manaketes breath fire? Is it normal fire? Special dragon fire?) while the rest of us set up in case the Risen come to attack us. Kjelle stands out in front, Noire to the right, Morgan to the left, and me directly behind her.

"I'm going to accidentally shoot Kjelle in the back." I think. "Crossbows shoot in a straight line. I guess I can shoot it in an arc, but isn't that going to be less effective?"

I can worry about it later. It doesn't matter. I'm not really expected to do much. It's just a formality to have me in position in the first place. At least, that's what I tell myself so as not to panic about the situation.

You know, dealing with combat was a lot easier when I was still fairly certain I was in a coma. It's easy to ignore paralyzing fear when you think you're dreaming and there are no consequences to your actions.

A distant howl reaches my ears, sounding like a mix between a wolf's cry and a gargle, and I pull my gaze from my crossbow back to the road.

"I think they noticed her a bit early." Morgan warns. I can see Nah in her dragon form spitting out balls of blue-green "fire" at the Risen, but the majority of the Risen are charging at us and ignoring Nah completely. "I think they like us."

"They always do this." Kjelle groans. She readies her spear and shield. "I don't know how they know to ignore fliers if they can't hit them. It's so annoying. I didn't think these ones would be smart enough for that."

"That would have been nice to know." Morgan barks. "Tell me that next time!"

Nah thins the ranks of the Risen before they get close to us, but we're still left with ten or so to deal with by the time they're in range for Noire to start shooting. The archers and the chieftain are gone, but there are still a bunch of shambling- well, running- zombies coming at us.

Noire calmly draws and fires her bow, and Morgan prepares a spell with no real rush. While a bit irritated at Kjelle not offering up the information earlier, Morgan doesn't exactly seem worried about our situation.

"Morgan is calm. That's good. We're fine then." I tell myself. "Morgan would know if something is wrong. We're fine."

I know my crossbow doesn't have as long a range as Noire's bow, so I wait until Morgan starts using elfire before I launch my first shot.

I was aiming at the foremost Risen, but I'm not used to firing in an arc so my shot falls pitifully short. I can also see just how much slower it is to reload my crossbow than shoot another shot from Noire's bow, as she's firing easily three times faster than me. It takes me the same amount of time to shoot my crossbow as Morgan to launch a spell.

I eventually find my range, though my shots are still painfully inaccurate. I don't know if it's wind, something wrong with my arrows or bow, something wrong with my technique, or some combination of the three that makes my shots miss their target so often.

Or it might be my shaking arms. Adrenaline is not helpful when you're doing precision work.

The Risen fall consistently. One, then another, then another, then another. Usually it's to Nah, sometimes to Morgan, and more rarely to Noire. There's only two left by the time Kjelle makes contact. One is sniped by Noire through the head, and the other runs itself onto Kjelle's spear point with little fanfare.

For all my worry, the Risen were a non-issue. We don't have a scratch on us. Of course I worked myself into a panic for nothing. I let out a long breath and lower my crossbow.

"Next time, I'll thank you to give me all the information beforehand." Morgan huffs. "Otherwise, good job everyone. Nice shooting Noire."

"Th-Thank you…"

"You were awesome Nah."

"Of course I was." Nah says pridefully. She's still in dragon form, hovering over our heads.

"Kjelle… you did something."

"Yeah yeah." Kjelle scoffs.

"Good job Nathan."

Notably, she didn't add specific praise. She knows full well I didn't do much and is being polite. Still, I appreciate the thought. "Thanks."

Nah untransforms a few feet above the ground and lands in human form in what has to be a practiced move. Our weapons are put away, and (with gloves on for safety) the girls search the bodies… or more specifically the clothes and weapons, as the bodies dissolved into purple dust when they die. They scrounge a few copper and some arrows, but nothing else of use.

We walk a mile past the Risen's original location. The others are already calm, apparently having forgotten the fight already. The only sign of it ever happening is my lasting nervousness and Morgan's arm though mine on my left side as reassurance.

The calmness of everyone else is probably why I'm the only person who notices a wheezing noise mixing with the wind, and why I turn my head to the left and see a Risen rushing out from behind a cluster of trees with three more trailing behind it, all armed with old rusted pitchforks and dressed in farmer's garb.

It's a cliche to say, but everything does seem to happen in slow motion. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug. I shriek out something along the lines of "Morgan!" and instinctively push her behind me before fumbling for a weapon. My hands go to my crossbow, I think better of it, then I wrench my axe from it's holster with enough force to snap the restraint.

Any thoughts of the weapon triangle or even basic battle tactics are completely out the window right now. I didn't have time to prepare like the other fights I've been in so far, there's no coherent thought or plan going into this. I know that Risen are in front of me and Morgan is behind me, and with that primitive understanding of the situation I come to the questionable conclusion that me moving out of the way means Morgan getting run through with a rusty pitchfork.

I don't have the element of surprise to bury my axe in someone's back like that first fight with the slavers, and I'm not acting as bait to delay for someone else to take action like the second fight with the bandits. This time, I'm standing directly in the path of four Risen with a significantly shorter range axe and no battle plan.

The result is predictable.

The thrust of the pitchfork is clumsy, but my attempt to hook the shaft with my axe is even more so and the points of the tool find purchase in my shoulder and I drop my weapon from muscle spasms and pain.

It's only by the miracle of everyone else's lightning reflexes that no more damage is done. Before the Risen striking me can even retract his weapon he's obliterated by a blast of electricity, and the others are done in by a hail of arrows, dragonfire, and a few well-placed spear thrusts. The whole "battle" takes maybe five seconds, but somehow those four Risen farmers did more damage than the whole twenty-man Risen brigand group.

Kjelle shouts something, and I can hear Nah flapping her wings somewhere above me, but I'm not paying attention. I'm still looking around for more Risen and frantically scooping up my axe with my off-hand, and I nearly trip over my own feet while doing so. When something touches my back, I twist around so quickly that I almost hurt myself and put my axe up between me and my presumed attacker.

There's no attackers left, obviously. The person who put their hand on my back is just Morgan. Her reflexes are also a lot better than mine, so my axe handle is parried and my arm grabbed before I even get in position.

"Nathan." She says calmly, while keeping a firm grip on my forearm. "It's over."

"W-We just got attacked out of nowhere!" I protest, and continue to look around for more signs of trouble despite being restrained. "I noticed first! You don't know that it's over!"

"Do you see more Risen?" Morgan asks, still very calm.

"Not at the moment, but that doesn't mean there aren't more!"

"Nathan." She says firmly. "Kjelle and Noire are paying attention now. Relax."

"Let me have my axe." I counter. She's still holding my arm, which is holding my axe. I'm not going to risk that being taken from me.

To my surprise, she does so. I was honestly expecting her to insist I relax before she released me, like a proper patronizing parent who doesn't bother to see things from the other person's perspective and thinks that obviously they must be right. I really should give Morgan more credit.

I don't put my axe away, but I do lower it as I verify that, yes, Kjelle and Noire are in fact watching out for Risen. Only then do I reluctantly put the axe down (not away, just on the ground) and sit in the dirt and take a moment to put my head between my legs and wrap my arms around myself and try not to vomit.

I've always had drastic overreactions to injury. It's rather annoying actually, because there's usually some dissonance between what I feel emotionally and what my body is doing. I can be calm, recognizing the injury is minor and unimportant, but my body will decide "nope, fuck you, you're having a panic attack" and even though I'm totally calm otherwise I have to sit down and wait for it to be over. It's honestly more of an irritation to have a panic attack rather than something that's actually scary or worrying. It's not unusual for me to have completely calm, normal conversations with someone else right in the middle of panic attacks because emotionally I'm fine and I'm just waiting for my body to catch up and stop freaking out.

This, sadly, is not one of those cases. This is one of the lovely cases where my emotions actually match my physical state; that's to say: panic.

I'm not fully aware of the consequences of being stabbed with a rusty pitchfork, but I know it's probably not good. There are certainly diseases and nasty infections that could result from such an injury. The pain is also starting to appear. I think my adrenaline was numbing it before.

Again, adrenaline is a hell of a drug.

"Nathan." Morgan whispers. I think she's kneeling next to me, but I don't want to turn my head to look. "You have to drink a vulnerary."

I'm not sure drinking something right now is a good idea, but I choke down a mouthful of vulnerary despite that.

"So…" Morgan says, still speaking quietly. "Remember how Kjelle mentioned that chieftains can call for reinforcements? I'm guessing that cry we heard at the start of the battle was the chieftain, and those four Risen that just attacked were other nearby Risen that heard the cry and came to help."

I nod silently, still not getting out of my position. That makes sense to me.

"We won't make that mistake in the future." Morgan murmurs. "Also, thank you for trying to protect me, even though it didn't turn out so well."

'Didn't turn out so well' is an understatement. I'm our first injury of this whole adventure, and it was because of my own incompetence. I could have backed off and let everyone else obliterate the Risen, but instead I let impulse get the best of me. That's what I get for ignoring logic and tactics and letting adrenaline guide my actions.

"Why couldn't this fight be like the other ones?" I whisper. "I didn't freak out after those."

"You also thought you were in a coma the first fight, and didn't really have time to worry about the second encounter before it started." Morgan offers.

"Don't make excuses for me." I mumble. "I'm handling this worse."

"As long as you save your worry for after the fight and not during, it's really not a problem Nathan." Morgan reassures. I can feel her hands on my back, rubbing in circles to comfort me.

It only takes a minute for my panic to subside, and I can stand again after that (albeit on shaky legs). No one else comments, and Morgan clings to arm for the entire rest of the day.

My injury is gone within the hour, and the only sign I got it in the first place are the holes in my clothes and a blood stain or two.

###

"Careful." Noire frets as I weave the needle in and out of the fabric. I feel like I'm focusing more than I ever have before on not stabbing myself by accident. This is probably why people wear thimbles.

I'm learning to sew, to some extent at least. I have my shirt laid out on a table, and I'm trying to do my first repair with Noire's guidance. I'm actually wearing Morgan's coat at the moment (she still has an undershirt) so I don't have to be topless while repairing my shirt.

Morgan's coat is heavy! I know it's because she has tomes and dozens of other things in here, but I have to wonder how she can stand to wear this all the time. Her poor shoulders. How is she not complaining about aches all the time?

"S-So now you want to push the needle all the way through to the inside." Noire whispers. "A-And then you want to knot it."

I follow her instructions as best I can. It's hard with these large sausage fingers this body has. My old body was skinny and boney, and so were my fingers, so I imagine I could get more precision with them than right now due to size. "Okay, now what?"

"Pull on the knot." Noire murmurs. "Not too hard. You want the knot to be sliding down the thread as you do. You want the tear to be invisible once you're done. You shouldn't even be able to see the repair thread on the outside."

It takes a minute to find the right amount of force as I gradually increase the strength I'm using, but eventually I achieve what I'm supposed to.

"Now make another knot for safety, pull it tight, and cut the thread on the inside just after it." Noire murmurs. "And you're done."

And just like that, one of the holes in my shirt is mended. It took a few minutes, but honestly not nearly as long as I expected. I always thought sewing was this painfully slow process where you had to take thirty minutes to fix even the simplest of tears. This fix took maybe seven minutes, and that was mostly because I'm slow and it's literally the first time I've ever done this.

The next two holes take a shorter time to repair as Noire doesn't have to walk me through every step. Everything is fixed up rather quickly.

"Thanks Noire." I say.

"I-It's fine."

I quickly slip back into my shirt and hand Morgan back her coat. I also say "how does wearing this not hurt your shoulders?"

"Because I have muscle!" Morgan chirps. She flexes an arm and pats her shoulder. "See?"

"Yeah yeah." It's still so weird to think of Morgan having muscle. Maybe it's her soft, childish face that makes the muscles seem so out of place to me. "Brains and brawn at the same time? That has to be illegal."

"I'm already illegal in other ways." Morgan quips.

"...is that a joke about you looking underage?"

"Yes." She says unabashedly.

You have a dark sense of humor Morgan. Then again, I guess I also have that sense of humor considering how often I indulge you. "That says a lot about me then, considering you are the prize of my collection."

"I'm just going to go…" Noire whispers, and moves to the door.

"Thanks Noire!" I say, and wave at her. She nods timidly and ducks out into the hallway.

"We'll get her to join in some day!" Morgan proclaims.

"Don't count on it. Roleplay isn't for everyone." I say.

"A girl can dream!" Morgan says. "Dream about being the pampered centerpiece of a prestigious collection! Because there's nothing sketchy about that!"

"Pampered?" I ask. "I've been failing my duties in that case. I'm going to need a significant bump in income to be able to pamper anyone."

"Is this your way of asking for money?"

"No, it's my way of acknowledging I need a job." I say. "Be patient with me, treasure, I'll have your gilded cage soon."

"Will it have a golden table master?" Morgan simpers.

"Of course my dear, anything for my most prized asset." I chuckle. I go so far as doing that chin-lift thing. The one you see villains do, where they grab some woman's chin with their thumb and pointer and lift it up so that the woman is looking them in the eye. "Because you are oh so loyal to me, aren't you dear?"

"Yes Sir." Morgan says, trying to act meek. It doesn't really work because of the wide grin on her face. She's having too much fun to properly act timid. "You have all my love master!"

That sounds like something straight out of a hentai, and Morgan said it with any sort of hesitance. Her absolute shamelessness never ceases to amaze me. "You'd be a fantastic actor if you could stop yourself from smiling so much Morgan."

"I'll have to settle for just being amazing then." Morgan sighs. "Not fantastic, just amazing, how very sad."

"What a travesty." I say, and pat her on the shoulder in consolation. "We can probably solve that by bribing critics though. Then they'll say you're fantastic."

"Once again bribery solves everything!" Morgan proclaims.

"Your father is going to love all these valuable lessons I'm teaching you." I tease. "Bribery and subservience. Valuable skills for any young woman."

"Yeah!" Morgan chirps. "What's this 'honesty' stuff? Thinking for myself? Never heard of it!"

"You are safe and comfortable under the thumb of someone else, as you should be." I say with an appropriate amount of evil in my tone. I even creepily stroke her hair, just to add to the effect. "My lovely, pliable little toy…"

Morgan can't hold character and begins giggling again, and I quickly follow suit.

"I can't believe you can say some of those things with a straight face." I say, after catching my breath.

"Says the person pretending to groom me." Morgan teases. "You're normally shy, yet you don't hesitate to put your hands on me when we're acting."

"I- well-" I fidget nervously. "It's part of the act, right? So-"

"I'm not complaining, I'm just making an observation." Morgan chirps. "By all means, touch me more!"

"Phrasing Morgan."

She sticks her tongue out. "I know exactly what I'm saying. By the way, I've got a question."

"What's up?"

"Do you know what my dad is going to think of me?" Morgan asks. "Or, at least, do you know how our first talk goes?"

"Well…" I pause to think. "Your first conversation in the game usually happens at the temple where I found you, so that's already different. He also has knowledge of future children before he meets you in the game, so that's also different."

"Ah." Morgan says. "So you have no idea?"

"Not really." I admit. It feels like a loss to say there. Here I have an opportunity to help Morgan, and all I can do is shrug and say I don't know. "At the very least I can tell you that no parent in the game ever rejects their kid. Some of them are suspicious at first, but there's never any rejection. Worst come to worst, you have to wait for Lucina to reveal herself. I don't think you're in any danger of permanent rejection."

"That's something at least." Morgan sighs. "I'm just… I'm worried my story is a bit too unbelievable, and that I'm a bit of a disappointment. Selective amnesia? Really? And all I do is play board games? Not something useful?"

"I think you grossly overestimate how much is going to be expected of you, and grossly underestimate how much you already do." I say. "And where's your usual confidence?"

"Well it's my father." Morgan frets. "And mother too. I can't just be great for them, I have to be perfect."

"Morgan…" I say.

"I know it's ridiculous, but it's my parents!" Morgan says. "It's not wrong to want to present myself in my best light, right?"

"You're already amazing. It's just a matter if Robin and Olivia see it or not." I say. "Simple as that. You do enough already."

"You're biased, you're my boyfriend." Morgan huffs, though she doesn't seem to be actually annoyed.

"Well sure, but you're biased against yourself because these are your parents." I say, and poke her on the forehead. "If your father is anywhere as awesome as you think he is, this won't be an issue."

"But do you know that?"

"Well unless your idea of an awesome father includes someone who won't approve of his daughter's mere accomplishments in being a genius tactician and skilled board-game player, then you'll be fine as long as he's even remotely close to your mental image." I offer. "Besides, this is a world with magic. I'm sure some 'destiny' bullshit will ensure it goes well regardless."

Morgan cracks a smile. "That's the most reassuring thing you've said so far."

"Fuck you too." I grumble. "I'm trying to help here."

"And you did." Morgan says. "Thanks."

"Yeah yeah…"

###

"I'm sorry, wait, repeat that."

"There are forty four letters in the Ylissian alphabet." Morgan says again. "Does your alphabet not have that?"

"No. The English alphabet has twenty six."

"Only twenty six? That's not even a letter for most sounds!" Morgan says.

"Well yeah. All vowels have two sounds, and some sounds are designated by combinations of letters." I say.

"That sounds complicated."

"It… yeah, I guess. I wouldn't really know if it's complicated or not though. It's my native language, so the difficulty is a bit lost on me." I admit. "How do you remember forty four letters though? That's so many!"

"It's not! Yours just has too few!"

"Says you!"

"Says me!"

"Well you're wrong!"

"How dare you!" Morgan gasps.

"I dare!" I say, followed by. "But I'm surprised the Ylissian alphabet isn't symbol-based. From what I saw in your notebook and the smut book, it looked like symbols."

"What do you mean by symbols?"

"A different thing for each individual word, not sound."

"That would be so many." Morgan mutters.

"It exists on Earth, like Japanese and Chinese. They use one symbol for each word… I think."

"How do they come up with new words then? Do they have to just make up a new symbol?"

"I guess so?" I frown. "I have no idea honestly. I could be wrong about how the symbols work in the first place. I never looked into it. I just know that you need to know a lot of symbols to write Chinese or Japanese. I imagine Chon'sinese works like that too, if it is the Japan counterpart like it was in the game."

"Huh. Who knew?" Morgan says.

"Anyone in Chon'sin." I quip.

"Smartass."

"Hey, at least that means I'm smart." I say. Internally though, I'm dreading what forty-four letters means for me trying to learn the language. I suppose it was too much to hope that there would be a nice one-to-one translation. I'm going to have to figure out some way to write what Ylissian letter means what in English.

Fun times; and by that I mean it's going to be no fun at all.

###

Ylisse has a Risen problem. In the week we've been in this country we've come across three separate packs of Risen, and that's not counting that small farmer group as its own thing.

On the bright(?) side, I actually managed to get two kills with my crossbow in our most recent fight. I'm starting to suspect some of my accuracy problems lie with the crossbow and the bolts and not my aim, because even with a steady hand the shots are often off-center. Still, a steady hand does help the accuracy to some extent.

Adrenaline is still a bitch though. I can't get it under control.

"I have to wonder." I say, after our most recent fight is over and Nah has scouted and not spotted any reinforcements. "If Ylisse has more Risen than other countries."

"Wouldn't surprise me." Morgan muses. "After all, Risen are mostly going to be summoned by Plegia, right? So of course they'd target Ylisse and cause havoc."

"How many Risen packs are from sorcerers and how many are passively generated from Grima's power?" I question.

"Don't know, don't care." Kjelle huffs. "We'll kill them all the same."

"But are we really killing them, or are we destroying them?" Morgan jokes. "You know, because they're already dead?"

"Har-har." Kjelle huffs.

"I wonder if we could control Risen ourselves…" I muse. "Ylisse could probably benefit from free zombie soldiers."

"That's a downright heretical suggestion." Kjelle warns. "Don't let anyone else hear you say that."

Ah, I guess I should have expected that. "Let me guess. Ylisse has something against dark magic."

"Of course it does. It's evil." Kjelle scoffs, as if that should be obvious.

"Oh that bullshit." I smile. "It's a religious thing, isn't it?"

"Of course the church condemns dark mages." Kjelle says, like that should be obvious. "Dark magic and dark mages have been plagues on Ylisse as long as history can remember!"

"Mmm-hmm." I hum, feeling amused. "Suuure. Totally not because of unjustified prejudice."

"You don't know Ylisse's history." Kjelle sneers.

"I don't need to. This is extremely blatant." I say. This isn't something I will back down on. This is so obviously wrong that I'm surprised Kjelle doesn't see it. I know Kjelle is a bit of a narrow-minded idiot, but this seems so blatant I'm disappointed I have to explain it. "I shouldn't even have to explain this Kjelle, and you should know history can be horribly biased depending on who is writing it."

"Don't give me that." Kjelle says. "You're otherworldly wisdom isn't right, or wanted, Nathan."

My smile is intentionally mocking; vicious even. "So you're a discriminatory asshole by choice? Good to know. Somehow I'm not surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kjelle growls.

"I'm saying you're intentionally choosing to ignore logic in favor of stubbornly, uncritically clinging to whatever garbage your religion throws your way." I say. "Stubborn and uncritical. Your two standout traits. Very fitting."

"You're making a lot of assumptions about me right now." Kjelle warns.

"Am I wrong?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "If I am, please, enlighten me. If you have some valid logical or scientific reason to believe that dark magic and dark mages are inherently evil, I'd love to hear it and will rescind my earlier comments."

"Dark mages are always nasty. Even Tharja is nasty and she's a Shepherd." Kjelle says. "And dark magic is fueled by rage and all sorts of negative emotion. You become skilled at dark magic by being a bad person."

So here's the question. Do I believe what Noire told me about dark magic, or do I believe Kjelle? I'm inclined to believe Noire just because her explanation seems more realistic and fleshed-out and-

Wait. Why are Kjelle and Noire's accounts of dark magic different? Has this topic just never come up? I want to mention this, but I also don't want to drag Noire into a conversation she might not want to have. What to do…?

"The church condemns dark magic for its corrupting influence, and for the necessity of its practitioners being evil!" Kjelle proclaims confidently. "For Naga would never wish for such a vile method of power to exist!"

Does she actually think Naga is a goddess? I guess she either didn't listen or didn't care that I've mentioned Naga is not a goddess on multiple occasions. I also wouldn't have pegged Kjelle to be a zealot. Who knew?

I also make the decision to go with Noire's explanation of dark magic, mostly because it's more fleshed-out. If something so complex is being presented in such simple, black-and-white terms, that's usually a sign the person in question doesn't actually know anything about what they're talking about and are just repeating what they've heard.

Sometimes, not always. I also can't blame Kjelle too much because it's probably hard to do research in this world, and even more so in the ruined future.

"You do know dark magic is just based on emotion, not necessarily negative emotion, right…?" I ask slowly.

"Well, negative emotion is the primary emotion." Kjelle says defensively.

"Fair enough." I conceded. "But you know negative emotion isn't bad right?"

"Don't be ridiculous." She scoffs. "Of course it is."

"So anger is bad?"

"Of course."

"So when you get angry over your friend getting hurt, you're a bad person." I say. "Right?"

"Well no."

"But anger is bad."

"Yes."

"So anger is bad, but being angry isn't bad?"

"Hold on a second." Kjelle interrupts. "You're ignoring context."

"Do tell."

"Using anger to fuel a spell is bad."

"Why?"

"Because anger is bad." Kjelle says, exasperated.

"But is being angry bad?" I question. "This is important."

"Being angry to fuel a spell is bad, but in other cases it's fine." Kjelle clarifies.

"Okay." I say. "So, following that logic, it's fine for me to use my anger to justify beating my wife then, right? After all, it's only using anger to fuel a spell that's bad."

"Of course not! That's bad too!" Kjelle barks. "Are you a fool?"

"I'm speaking in theoretics here Kjelle." I soothe. "Just to make sure all your points are properly articulated. So, let me ask: what exactly makes a use of anger bad or evil?"

"When it is used to fuel an inherently evil thing, like dark magic."

"And what makes dark magic inherently evil?"

"Because it takes anger and negative emotion as fuel."

"See, that's circular logic." I point out. "You're using a thing to justify itself. Dark magic is bad because it uses anger, and anger is bad when used to fuel dark magic. There's no reason for this beyond something arbitrary you've chosen to say. Your premises are your conclusions. So maybe this will help. What makes something bad?"

"That's a stupid quesition." Kjelle sneers. "How can you possibly expect me to cover everything?"

"I don't need examples, I need rules. What exactly makes something bad or evil?" I press. I'm going straight into philosophical debate here. Gotta use my degree for something, might as well be for this.

"Something is evil when it has negative effects." Kjelle says.

"Okay." I say. I could dig deeper and question what a negative effect is, but that's unnecessary for the current debate. "So something is evil when it has negative effects. Like spousal abuse, or assassination, or anything awful like that.

"Exactly."

"So, would you agree with the statement that anger is evil when it is used to create or fuel negative effects? Anger used as justification to terrorize one's kids, for example."

"Absolutely." Kjelle nods.

"What about when anger is used for self improvement?" I ask. "When I am angry at myself for failure, and I use that to push myself to improve. Is that evil?"

"No."

"Okay then, so for spells…" I say slowly. "If I power a spell with anger, and use it to destroy a village, that's evil."

"Clearly."

"What if I use anger to power a dark magic spell to destroy an oncoming boulder that would crush a house?" I ask. "Same spell, same emotion, different ends."

"I- no." Kjelle frowns. "That doesn't make sense."

"Doesn't it? I'm using your premises Kjelle." I say. "Something is evil only when it has negative effects. Therefore, at best, dark magic is usually evil but is not always, as there are non-evil uses for it. Strictly speaking, we should be saying that certain motives are evil, as it is motives that drive actions that cause results, and dark magic is only a tool to achieve that end."

"You're twisting my words." Kjelle accuses. "You're trying to trick me."

"I am not." I say. "I simply investigated your own ideas and came to a logical conclusion, and you agreed with every step."

Kjelle's glare could boil water. I think she's mad that I'm right. It probably doesn't help that I'm being smug about it.

"Look, I'm not saying you have to like dark magic, and it does seem like it could easily lead to negative behaviour." I offer. "Just don't judge an entire group of people by the tools they use. That would be like disliking anyone who used a shovel because the church told you shovels were bad."

"Fine." Kjelle snaps. "Just shut up. I don't want to hear your voice anymore."

Ouch, but okay. At least my point is made. Religious bullshit made things harder than it should have been. Though I'm admittedly predisposed to dislike religion. There are so many problems with it I don't even want to start… or, well, I do want to start, but I won't. This isn't the place or time for a rant.

It's also weird to win. I never won arguments back on Earth. I'll relish this for now, I don't expect it to happen often.

###

"Are those pegasus knights?" I mutter. "Those are pegasus knights, right?"

"Yes." Noire murmurs.

"Surprised we haven't come across them before." Kjelle says. "They're Ylisse's main federal force. At least in our time, it was mainly their responsibility to deal with Risen packs because they could actually reach them in time."

"I guess the knights and cavaliers were the secondary force for that because they're also fast?" I say.

"It doesn't exactly work that way." Kjelle says. "Did your games not tell you about Ylisse's military structure?"

"Nope. I only know that Ylisse was known for pegasus knights."

"Well, let me explain." Kjelle says with a smug smile. I think she's using this as payback for me making a fool of her yesterday. Whatever. As long as I get the information. "So, you know about duchies, right?"

"Large areas of land ruled by dukes."

"Exactly." Kjelle says. "So Ylisse is divided up into a bunch of duchies. The duchy of Themis or Admetus for example. The royal family also controls a duchy in addition to more general control over the country."

"All right." I nod. "I get it so far."

"Every duke has their own army." Kjelle continues. "Depending on the duke, the composition can differ. Themis is famous for it's valkyries, for example, and Admetus is the only duchy in Ylisse to train axemasters. Most duchies forgo axes altogether."

I wonder if "axemaster" means warrior or berserker in game terms. "Okay…"

"However, each duke is also expected to contribute a certain number of troops towards Ylisse as a whole." Kjelle says. "Troops for the country to use rather than just the dukes, so to speak. It would be unfair to put the whole burden on the royal family, though due to occupying the most heavily populated area of Ylisse the royal family does contribute more troops to the realm than other areas."

"Where do those troops go?"

"They stay with the duke for the most part." Kjelle says. "The dukes are still responsible for feeding and housing the troops they contribute, and under most circumstances they can use those troops as normal troops because Ylisse does not usually have reason to call upon those troops. It's only when there is a significant problem elsewhere that the troops a duke ows Ylisse will actually be called upon by the country."

"So these troops that are owed to Ylisse technically answer to the country before the duke, but since Ylisse doesn't often give orders they mostly just act as part of the duke's standing force?"

"Exactly." Kjelle says.

"So what does this have to do with pegasus knights?"

"Pegasus knights are unique in that Ylisse's pegasus core technically serves Ylisse, not any specific duke nor even the royal family. A duke can have their own pegasus knights that they trained themselves, but the main pegasus core are Ylisse's troops alone. That's why most of the troops a duke owe's Ylisse don't need to be called upon, because when there's a problem that the country needs to address it's the pegasus knights that are sent first, and only if they can't deal with the problem are the rest of Ylisse's troops called upon."

So pegasus knights are strictly federal troops unless a duke has invested into training his own. Interesting. It seems unusual to me to know that each individual duchy, basically a province or state, has its own standing army rather than all troops being federal, but whatever. This is a different time period. "Aren't Risen more than just Ylisse's problem though?"

"Of course." Kjelle snorts. "But unlike the dukes, who might have other problems, Risen are a clear threat to the country as a whole, ergo the pegasus knights would deal with them specifically."

Interesting. Pegasus knights seem like a good choice for federal troops too. They have the mobility to get all around the country like no other type of troop, especially because I doubt Ylisse has as much of any other type of flier. Wyverns are Plegia's thing, and griffons are just downright rare in the whole game from what I remember seeing.

The pegasus knights are a fair ways off, but are moving in our direction. They're actually sort of hard to spot with the pegasi's white wings against the white and blue sky. If it weren't for the flaps of their wings they'd be indistinguishable from clouds from a distance.

We travel for about twenty minutes, watching the pegasus knights get closer and closer. I couldn't pinpoint how many of them there were before, but now that they're closer I can see there is a squad of about a dozen knights, all spread out over a wide area. Sometimes one knight will do a low, sweeping pass of the farmland around them. I'd bet they're looking for something.

And something they find, judging by how they all congregate in the same spot and then make a coordinated dive towards something obscured by a barn. Our group is a dozen minutes away at marching speed, so we all pick up our pace and draw our weapons. Apparently our decision to help is unanimous.

We don't hesitate to jump the farmer's fence and dash towards the other side of the barn. Maybe we scare a few cows, but whatever. Not a big deal.

I also underestimated how nimble Kjelle is in her armor. She climbs over that fence just as fast as the rest of us.

To my surprise, the fight isn't over by the time we get over to where the pegasus knights are, and that's because there's a lot of Risen. I stop counting after twenty, and that's not even half of them… and that's not counting the ones the pegasus knights have probably killed already.

I'm glad we didn't run into this group on our own. We might have been able to deal with twenty Risen, but fifty plus would be a bit too much. These look like a combination of brigands, farmers, and soldiers. I wonder if they used to be a bunch of smaller groups that found each other and became one big group.

Or maybe one group called for reinforcements, the others came running, and they killed their attackers and stuck together. That's a morbid consideration.

Nah transforms and we rush to fight. The pegasus knights all startle at the sudden appearance of a goddamned dragon, but recover from their shock quickly and resume their work.

There are so many Risen that my shots basically can't miss. All I have to do is be sure to aim low so my shots don't go high and accidentally hit a pegasus knight.

I think the pegasus knights have already dealt with the chieftain, hence why our group which is on the ground while all the pegasus knights are in the air isn't instantly mobbed by all the remaining Risen. There are a bunch of Risen futility trying to swipe at the diving knights to predictably little effect.

Kjelle wades into the middle of the Risen without any sort of fear. Her armor blocks axes and spears and pitchforks alike without much of an issue. I remember learning that full plate armor was a total wall to basic melee attacks, though with the help of a horse for momentum or a pickaxe or hammer you could probably deal serious damage to full plate. Also, arrows punch right through it for the most part. The power behind arrows is not insignificant.

So anyhow, against these simple melee attacks Kjelle's armor walls all damage.

For the most part I'm not aiming my shots. I don't need to. The combined force of the pegasus knights and our squad, mostly Nah and Morgan courtesy of her magic, chew through the Risen numbers rapidly. Risen really are trivial to deal with even in such large numbers. These would be more threatening if they were bandits or something.

I say that like they wouldn't totally annihilate us if they had any semblance of tactics. This is only working because they're running around incoherently and randomly switching targets.

It still takes a good ten minutes to deal with the rest of the Risen. After there are too few for us to safely keep shooting, me, Morgan, and Noire step back and let the pegasus knights and Kjelle handle the rest.

So, pegasus knights look almost exactly like they do in the game, though with grieves on their lower legs and armored skirts to protect their thighs rather than having bare thighs or just stockings like in the games. Though, oddly enough… so you know female Corrin's outfit and how it has the thighs exposed only on the inside of the legs? Yeah, the pegasus knights have that for some reason. I wonder if there's actually logic around that. They also don't have full saddles, they just have the main seat part and not the flaps on the side, so their thighs are actually in contact with the fur which seems supremely uncomfortable and unsafe. That has to chafe like hell, right? There must be a reason for it.

It's not exactly something I can ask the pegasus knights about though. We all know how that would go. I'll just wait and ask Morgan or Kjelle or something… or maybe Cynthia, because she's actually a pegasus knight. Though I suppose Sumia or Cordelia could answer that question too.

The pegasus knights swiftly gather up the leftovers of the Risen (the clothes, weapons, personal belongings and whatnot) and haul them out of the farmland to the side of the road. I can see a few pegasus knights taking out shovels too. A burial, albeit without bodies. While some of the knights are doing that, another of them, the leader I assume by the gold colored armor whereas the others have silver, approaches us.

"Thank you for the assistance, travellers." The woman says, in what I think is a Russian accent. The only character I know in the game that has an accent like that is Gregor. I wonder if that has any significance. All the villagers in Ylisse so far sure don't speak like that. She's almost as tall as me, has slightly tanned skin, long dark-green hair, and hazel eyes. "There are not many people willing to put themselves in danger to help soldiers."

"Because that's your job." Morgan quips. "It was no problem! Happy to help! We've been dealing with Risen packs ever since we got off the boat two weeks ago, and it seems like the situation is a bit out of control. If we can cut their numbers a bit, we'll eagerly take part."

"How many packs have you run into?" The woman asks. "I am supposed to keep track as best I can."

"We've dealt with five packs of varying sizes." Morgan says. "Twenty four, seven, ten, sixteen, and fourteen."

"Hmm…" The woman frowns. "Thank you for the information. Additionally, I must ask… are you a dark mage?"

Huh, I didn't think that was going to be asked outright. Apparently so.

"Nope." Morgan chirps. "I'm just a normal mage."

"Ah, I see." She says. "Do be careful then. You are obviously Plegian, and most Ylissians are not quite fond of Plegians at the moment with the war only recently finished. The wounds are too fresh, sometimes literally."

"You aren't Ylissian either, are you?" Morgan asks. "You speak differently, and you didn't say 'my countrymen' you said 'Ylissians'."

"Very astute of you." The woman says, and nods. "I am Ylissian now, but not as a child. I arrived here when I was five." She puts a finger to her lips with a smile. "My mother is a dark mage, don't tell. That's why I asked. I know the problems that can come of it."

"My, giving away sensitive information to a stranger?" Morgan smiles. "Be careful."

"You are travellers; it is unlikely we will meet again, and it is no secret among my squad." She chuckles. "I am Vanna."

"Morgan." Morgan says. "My group is heading for Ylisstol. We have business with the Shepherds."

"Are you hopefuls? It's a high bar." Vanna warns.

"Not exactly." Morgan grins. "But I wouldn't doubt we could jump that bar if we wanted."

"Well, at least you have the confidence for it." Vanna laughs. "And if you're going to Ylisstol perhaps we will meet again. Incidentally, is one of your number a manakete? I distinctly remember a dragon."

"That's me." Nah says, and inclines her head to Vanna. "I'm Nah."

"Greetings Nah." Vanna says, and actually bows from the waist. "Ylisse is always glad to see another divine dragon. A sign of good fortune no doubt."

"I am not so special." Nah says. "But I shall endeavor to bring Ylisse good fortune nonetheless."

How very formal-sounding of you Nah.

"Captain." A different pegasus knight interrupts. "The burial is complete."

"Thank you Lily. Have everyone mount up." Vanna instructs. To us, she says. "We must be off. Thank you again travellers. If you want some compensation, I'll be including you in my report to headquarters back in Ylisstol, so you can go there and request it."

"That won't be necessary." Morgan says. "But thanks."

We watch Vanna mount her pegasus. At a sharp command from her, the entire group of knights start a light trot, flares their wings in unison, and take to the air. It almost looks like a choreographed move, and maybe it is. That's another question for later I suppose.

As soon as they're gone, Morgan turns to me with a cheeky grin. "Did you see the thighs on her? Nice and toned."

"Of course that's the first thing you'd say." I sigh. "I thought I was supposed to be the one sarcastically degrading women."

"Pfft, I can do that on my own!" Morgan says cheerfully. "And who said anything about sarcasm? Those are some nice legs! Also, degrading? That was a compliment!"

"Calm your hormones Sylvain." I snort, and pat her on the head. "You might want to wait until we're in Ylisstol until you devolve into bad pickup lines and failed dates. That way you can maximize your chances of offending someone important."

"You know, for a moment there I thought you were going to dissuade me from being lewd, but that sounds like encouragement to me!" Morgan says. "Is this your way of giving me permission to mess with people when we get to Ylisstol!?"

"I'm pretty sure you were going to do that anyway."

"You know me so well!"

"At least make sure to steal something when you inevitably offend someone rich." I say. "Might as well make sure their offense is justified, right?"

Morgan barks out a sudden laugh. "Now that's a good plan!"

"You two are horrible." Kjelle says flatly. "Can we move on already?"

"But I'm not done figuring out how I'm going to single-handedly steal the money of every rich man and woman in Ylisstol!" Morgan pouts.

"That's a lot of dates."

"I know! Think of all the great food I can sucker people into buying me!" Morgan says. "This is a great plan!"

"Please don't make enemies." Noire mumbles.

"She will." I say flatly. "That was going to happen no matter what, it was just a matter of how."

"Oh gods."

Morgan throws an arm around Noire's shoulders. "You can join me! Between my cute face and your nice everything we can swindle all of Ylisstol! Nah can join in too; we can have a whole act going!"

Nah looks supremely unimpressed. "Leave me out of this childish nonsense."

"I-I think I'll pass." Noire says.

"Your loss. I'll have all the fun!" Morgan says cheerfully.

"How quickly I'm abandoned when you get prospects of money." I sigh dramatically. "Alas, you are a golddigger to the end."

"Aww, I'll always have a place in my heart for you." Morgan coos. "But you can't blame a girl for wanting some more attention can you? What's a few other dates on the side?"

"You're horrible Morgan." I say, and pat her head again. "And by that I mean go right ahead. Don't get yourself into too much trouble though."

I say that as a joke, but I'm quite serious. As much as I like Morgan, I wouldn't deny her the chance to date other people, either just for fun or as a serious search for someone else. I got my current relationship with her on virtue of her not really interacting with many other people beforehand.

Or maybe I've overthinking things. Either way, I'll let Morgan interpret that as she wants.

###

"Everyone's watching though your eyes~" I sing quietly. "There's only two options: win or die~"

I'd forgotten about the songs from League of Legends. They don't have many, but they're hella good. I couldn't tell you what reminded me of them today. Sometimes a song just slips back into my mind I guess.

"You better not be singing that for much longer Nathan." Kjelle grumbles. "I plan on actually getting sleep tonight."

It really is an inconvenient time to remember these songs exist, but I can't not sing them. This is the only way I'll be able to hear these songs. I have to keep singing, even if it's an annoyance. Repetition is how you remember things after all. I won't risk forgetting these songs.

I do wonder, though, if I should be clinging so tightly to these things from Earth. Am I simply refusing to move on, or is it justified for me to obsess over songs from Earth? Especially considering how many songs I'm trying to keep in my head, this could be unhealthy for me.

But I don't want to move on. I happen to like Earth and many of the things in it. At the same time, I can't really expect to live like this forever, constantly trying to juggle a hundred songs in my head so that I don't forget them.

I guess I haven't accepted my situation. I'm still clinging to hope that somehow things won't be too different, and that I can afford to remember all these songs. I'm going to have to face facts eventually, but it won't be tonight.

###

"I think it must be the crossbow itself." I say as I retrieve any surviving bolts from the tree. "It's just too crude. It's probably uneven somewhere, using the wrong type of wood, or something of the sort."

"So what I'm hearing is that you need better tools next time." Morgan says. She's sitting on a rock, watching my practice.

"I think it's more that I'll need measuring instruments to make sure everything is symmetrical and smooth. I need to make sure the strings are tied in the exact same spots and not slightly forward or backward on one side, and I have to be sure that the bow isn't just a bit larger on one side or something. There's so many small things that could be wrong. I need something to measure distance and something to measure angles. A ruler and a protractor."

"Hmm…" Morgan hums. "Reinventing something is difficult. Who knew?"

"I know, I know." I grumble. "It would be convenient if I was an engineer. That would make this whole process a lot easier. I'd actually know what I have to do instead of wildly guessing."

"Well sure, but at least you have an idea what you're doing."

"I guess…" I say. "For all I know you're actually right and I need better tools."

"Do you always second-guess yourself like this?" Morgan asks suddenly. "Never being sure about anything?"

"Of course." I nod. "I'm not foolish enough to assume I can say anything for certain, especially about things of which I don't have professional knowledge. Saying anything 'for certain' would be dishonest of me."

"I guess I understand." Morgan says. "But that seems…"

"Annoying?"

"I was trying to say that in a more polite way." Morgan admits. "But yes."

"Well long story short. I want any uncertainty to be acknowledged because even point-one percent chances might be important, and I don't like lying and pretending those chances don't exist, even if it's for the sake of morale or whatever." I say.

"So it's a truth thing."

"Yes."

"Okay." Morgan shrugs. "I was just curious if there was a reason behind all your second-guessing."

"I've had too many experiences where a lack of thinking things over leads to something going wrong." I say. "Better to second guess all the time than be reckless. You're more likely to succeed at something if you're overprepared, not underprepared."

"Hmm…" Morgan hums. "Well that's fair enough I suppose."

"Yeah, but it leads to problems on it's own. Half the reason I can't talk to strangers is because I'm always second-guessing how they'll react, even though I have no reasonable way to be able to predict that and shouldn't be worrying about it in the first place." I grumble, and then I promptly sigh. "And here I am, going on about my own problems again."

"You do seem to have a lot of them." Morgan chirps. "I'm still happy to listen."

"Yeah I know, but I don't want all my time with you to be me whining about petty things." I say. "So… uh…"

"Change of subject?"

"Yes please."

"Hmm…" Morgan muses. "You were a writer, right?"

"To a degree, yes."

"Tell me about something you wrote!"

"Oh." I blink. "You know, I was expecting a more general conversation topic, but this works."

"Hey, I have less than a year of life experience. I'm living vicariously through whatever you tell me." Morgan says. "I have very little I could actually talk about."

Well okay then. I better choose a good story. Let's see… "Well, most of my stories are what you'd call fanfiction. They use the ideas, characters, and settings of someone else, though usually not for monetary gain because that would be sketchy. So, remember those other Fire Emblem universes?"

"Yeah."

"Well I wrote a story about this teacher called Byleth, and he likes to break into students' rooms..."

###

It occurs to me I've been waiting until we get to Ylisstol to try and do some things like learn to write, or just get new skills of any sort, and while that's not totally unreasonable as we will be in one place for a somewhat extended period of time and that's a good opportunity to get some learning done, there are a few things I could be doing now… like getting those measuring tools. A ruler is something I can ask someone to make. It's literally just a piece of wood with marks at regular intervals. I could make my own using my finger to space the notches, but I'd rather have the notches cut in some actual existing form of measurement. I also want a protractor, but I have no idea if those exist yet.

It's a weird request, judging by the town woodworker's raised eyebrow. He informs me he can make the ruler, but a goniometer (not a protractor, but something that fulfills a similar function) is something I'm probably going to have to find a skilled blacksmith about. He can make me a fifty centimeter ruler in half an hour though. It's really simple.

Yes, they're called centimeters. Go figure. The calendar changes and the language changes, but they still use centimeters.

I hand him two copper for the ruler (that seems like so little, I got charged fifty copper for a whetstone but a ruler is two? Weird) and go off to find a blacksmith while I wait for it to be done. The woodworker said the blacksmith could do it. I don't know why he can't do it, but whatever. Maybe he just wants to spread business around the whole town and help everyone out. I can imagine that. The woodworker was really nice after all. He didn't raise an eyebrow at my stuttering. I can imagine him sharing business.

Incidentally, Morgan is off doing… something. I don't actually know. I told her I was going to buy some things alone today, and so I am. She pouted about it. It was cute. But I need to actually talk to strangers, no matter how much I hate doing it. If I hadn't insisted she not come, she'd absolutely be following me around right now.

I've underestimated just how attached Morgan is to me… and vice versa. I'm constantly thinking of something to say, starting to say it, then remembering Morgan isn't next to me. Even now when Morgan isn't here, I'm still thinking about her.

"Now I know why young couples are always so clingy." I think to myself as I try and find the blacksmith. "Being in a relationship is downright addictive."

Focus Nathan. Blacksmith.

Because I have a terrible sense of direction I have to ask where the blacksmith is, even though the woodworker already told me. It takes me about five minutes to get there in total. Not too bad.

"I could use a watch." I think to myself as I stand outside the blacksmith's forge, gathering my courage. "Those are going to be expensive though, assuming they even exist."

Are the 1500s medieval ages? I think that's when the first watches were made. I don't know exactly how watches work, but I know some of them use coiled wires to intermittently release energy into the watch to make it function, hence why some old watches needed to be wound. I wonder if Miriel could make a functional watch with just that information.

With nothing else to distract myself with, I resign myself to actually entering the blacksmith's shop… and promptly learn that I should have been talking about the blacksmiths' shop, not the blacksmith's.

It's the placement of the apostrophe denoting possession. If you move it after the s, it indicated plural possession.

I'm saying there are two blacksmiths. One man, and one woman. The man is significantly older than the woman with long, unkempt, white hair that is blackened with soot, deep brown eyes, a furrowed unibrow, and a body so jacked and well-defined he could pass as a sculpture if you slapped some paint on him. He's also shirtless. The woman looks… young? I think? It's hard to tell with the soot on her face and much more conservative dress, but the pitch of her voice makes me think she's not even over eighteen yet. She has chestnut hair and similar eyes. She also clearly must have a lot of muscle, judging by how she's carrying a huge metal cauldron without too much effort when I walk through the door.

"I meant the crucible!" The old man barks. "Not the cauldon!"

"Then just say "crucible" next time instead of "big pot" Grandpa! I know what a crucible is!" The girl retorts with equal attitude, and plants the cauldron on the floor with a heavy thudding noise. "And the crucible isn't even that big!"

"It's big enough!" The old man says defensively.

"I can carry the crucible in one hand Grandpa! That's not big!"

I have a feeling that if I let them keep talking they'll go on forever. I just need to interrupt them. "Erm… pardon me."

"What?" They both ask at the same time, turning their heads towards me. I instinctively flinch at the sharp voices, but stop short of cowering.

"I'm a customer. They're not angry." I remind myself. "I- hello. I'm Nathan." Well that's irrelevant information. Get to the point Nathan. "I wanted to ask if you were capable of making a goniometer."

"Oh, another one o' those things, huh?" The old man says. "Do you know a crazy mage lady with glasses?"

What? That sounds like Miriel. What are the odds? "Crazy mage lady is a pretty broad definition. Can you give me a name?"

"Mura… Mural?" The old man says. "Lily, was it Mural?"

"Miriel, Grandpa. Not Mural."

"Ah, Miriel, right, I knew that!"

"Sure you did…" The girl, Lily, scoffs. "Memory is the first to go they say."

"Really? I thought it was beauty. Speaking of, shouldn't you be worried 'bout getting a man before yours is gone rather than makin' snarky comments?" The old man shoots back.

"You can't use that retort for everything Grandpa!"

"I can and I will as long as it keeps workin'!" He says with a grin.

"So." I cut in. "You can make a goniometer?"

"O' course we can!" The old man huffs. "Do we look like amateurs to you?"

"Considering how often you get off topic and forget names, it wouldn't surprise me." Lily quips.

"You're just as guilty!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"So how long would it take to get one made?" I ask, cutting in again. These two cannot stay focused. How do they ever get work done? Also, I don't even want to consider how infinitesimally small the chances are of me asking for the same device from the same people that Miriel did at some point. I basically just won the lottery… for something that I could have had someone make in Ylisstol less than a month down the road if I wanted. What a waste of lottery odds.

"A day!" The old man says.

"Grandpa, we can't just drop everything else to make this thing." Lily scolds.

"I'll pay extra to have the process expedited." I offer. "If you're capable of having it ready by tomorrow…"

"Done!" The old man says, and extends a hand for a shake.

"Grandpa!"

"What? I'm not about to turn down good money!" He huffs. "We can do that no problem, we made the molds last time for Mural, it'll be faster this time around!"

"Miriel." I correct quietly, and shake his hand. "How much do you want, by the way?"

"Lettin' me set the price? Generous of you boy." The man chuckles. "You ain't used to haggling, are you?"

"No." I admit.

"Honest to a fault too." Lily sighs. "You've gotten ripped off in the past. I can tell just by listening to you."

Ouch. Probably true, but ouch.

"Don't go insulting customers fool girl!" The old man barks. To me he says. "So, a price. Normally I'd charge a silver for somethin' specialized like this, but if you want it speedy… One and twenty copper, to make up for the delays on other orders. Fair enough?"

That's so much cheaper than I was expecting. I was worried a precision instrument like this would cost gold, not less than two silver. I'll have to thank Miriel for laying the groundwork. This probably would have cost much more if they had to make molds and all that as well.

Lily gives the old man a pointed look. "Grandpa, we just pointed out he doesn't know how to haggle."

"Fine, fine, One and fifteen." He huffs.

"Grandpa."

"One and ten! Fine! That's as low as I'm going! Happy?" He shouts.

That's so cheap. Then again, my sense of money is a bit skewed by Morgan being able to frivolously spend gold when a normal farmer would be lucky to own a single gold piece once in his entire life. It's only now that I'm really starting to understand how filthy rich Morgan actually is compared to the average person if a mere ten copper is a significant difference to these people. "One and ten works just fine. How fast are we talking? Tomorrow morning?"

"We can have it ready by nightfall." The old man scoffs. "Sun's not even at midpoint kid! Making a tool like this ain't like makin' a sword where ya need to fold the metal an' file down the edge. Yer tool just gotta be the right shape an' have some numbers on it. Easily done."

"It's tedious, not hard." Lily agrees. She's currently digging through some shelves and cabinets. "It's literally just a small slab and rod of metal with a pin connecting them. That's dirt simple. The longest part will be getting the numbers on it. Making the actual device is no problem since we have the mold and the thingy doesn't have to have anything special done to it metal-wise to make the process take longer."

"Come back at sundown! We'll have it ready for ya." The man says.

"Okay." I say. I dig into my pouch and pull out the silver and ten copper. "Here you go then."

"Thank you kindly kid." The old man says. "Lily! Find that mold!"

"I already found it Grandpa, pay attention!"

"Stop given' me sass little girl! I'm your mentor!"

"You have to be wise to be a mentor! You're just old!"

I leave the two to bicker. Hopefully they'll actually get the goniometer done. In the meantime, I'll pick up my ruler.

###

Morgan is gone when I get back to the inn. Kjelle is out somewhere too, but Noire is there. So I'm left in the awkward position of either twiddling around in my room doing basically nothing (I guess I could make some more crossbow bolts or something), or I could take advantage of this situation as an excuse to talk with Noire.

Noire is… a friend? I think? She doesn't avoid me anymore, so that's something. Still, it's a bit awkward for either of us to initiate conversation, so this low-stakes opportunity with no one else to see our blunders is the perfect opportunity to try and… I dunno. Become closer? Not be as hesitant around each other? Become better friends? Something like that.

That's why after I asked Noire where Morgan went, and she said "shopping", I don't close the door to her room and leave. I stand nervously in the doorframe, trying to think of something to say to start a conversation. This isn't like with Morgan where I can say literally anything, a total non-sequitur, and she'll roll with it.

Noire obviously notices that I haven't left, because how could she not, and she's stopped her sewing and nervously meets my eye. She doesn't say anything, but she's silently asking why I'm still here. After a few more seconds of awkward silence, her shoulders start to hunch and I cringe. I have to say something. Just spit something out Nathan.

"Sorry." I say impulsively. I guess I'm back to random apologies. Great job Nathan. "I just… I wanted to talk, and couldn't think of anything to say."

"Oh." Noire says quietly. "I'm not good at that either."

There's another awkward silence, and I really do debate leaving at this point. Clearly I have nothing to say. "I… uh…"

"D-Do you know about my future?" Noire asks suddenly, and puts down her sewing needle altogether. I guess she doesn't mind me here. That's a relief.

I step in the room and close the door, and take a seat across the room from her. "I know some possible outcomes, yes. Nothing too detailed though."

"Do you know I will interact with children?"

That's an oddly specific question, and just an odd question, and one I unfortunately can't help with. "No. None of your possible endings really go into that. The closest one is your unpaired ending where you stay with your mother for a while with the implication that it might be to protect your infant self."

"Okay." Noire says. Her tone is unusually meek, even for her. It's barely a whisper. In a rare moment of actually being able to read body language, I notice her fists clench and unclench around her needles. Anger? Or anxiety? I don't think I've done anything wrong yet, so let's go with anxiety.

"What's up?" I ask. "I mean, you don't have to go into detail if it's personal, not my place to intrude, but if you're looking for someone to talk to… well… I have enough miscellaneous knowledge stored in my brain that I might be able to offer something of use, or failing that I can at least offer a sympathetic ear."

Noire silently considers my offer. I'm fully expecting her to decline here. It's not like I've shown myself to be particularly smart or impressive, but I can't just ignore something that's bothering her. She went out of her way to comfort me not that long ago. I have a duty to return the favor if I can. Also… I still care about her, even if I don't really know her. I learned about her mostly from Awakening, granted, but just because my knowledge is skewed doesn't mean I can't have empathy or sympathy.

It's to my surprise when Noire actually speaks her mind rather than shutting me out.

"You know how my mother was in the future." Noire says quietly. "Right?"

"Yeah." I nod. Future Tharja was an abusive bitch. What does this have to do with Noire dealing with children though?

"I… the reason I asked my question…" Noire wrings her hands. "W-Will I turn out like Mother?"

Oh. Well that's a complicated question, and not an insignificant worry. I could give her generic reassurance and say that of course she won't, but anyone can give generic reassurance. If I want to be even vaguely helpful, I need to do something else. "That's up to you Noire. Your actions will decide that."

"I know that." Noire says in frustration. "B-But what if it doesn't matter what I do? What if I'm destined to turn out like her?"

"Well destiny in this world has been thwarted before." I say slowly, but we both know that's not the main issue. "However… hmm… if we want to talk psychology of some sort, I can offer you this: you learned from Tharja. This is not something you can change. Whether you like it or not, she is responsible for shaping who you are today."

Noire's eyes fall to the floor and her shoulders hunch, but I'm not quite done.

"I won't lie and pretend it's not an inconvenience." I say. "You have learned behaviours from her if she's been your caretaker for an extended period of time, and people do tend to take after their parents."

Noire still hasn't looked up. I need to get to the point.

"And changing your ways is difficult. It takes immense force of will, and constant repetition to develop new habits." I say. "However, it is absolutely possible. If we were all carbon copies of our parents the world would never change, and the world obviously does change, so that's not true at all."

Noire finally does look up, though I can't read her expression. Is that hope? Anxiety? Confusion?

"It's entirely possible you will take after your Mother in terms of parenting instincts." I whisper. That's an ugly fact, but it's true. We do take after our parents for better or for worse. "But enough willpower and self-reflection can change that."

At this point I reach forward and poke her nose, smiling, and she blinks and sits up straight in surprise.

"And need I remind you that you survived a hellscape for years on end. If there's one thing you have in spades it's willpower, whether you recognize it or not. If you're going to have kids at some point, that also means you'll have a partner, and you'll have them for help too." I say. "So, at this point I can safely say that you'll be fine, as much of a stock reassurance as that is. Maybe it will take some effort, but as long as you're willing to put in the effort when something is going wrong, there's no reason for you to end up like your mother."

That was either the most profound or most pretentious thing I've ever said. It depends on whether Noire cares for what I've said or not. My advice was still pretty generic, I just tried to acknowledge some of the negative aspects of her situation rather than glossing over it.

"So, uh, yeah…" I finish lamely. "Hope that helps."

Noire is staring at me now. Is that a good thing? Is that a bad thing? Have I made an ass of myself? I totally have, haven't I? Shit.

"That…" Noire says quietly. Her voice is hoarse. "Thank you."

I think that's a positive reaction? "Sorry if that's not what you were looking for."

"No, it helps." Noire whispers. "It's nice to have something more than reassurances to work with."

Oh good. My additional ideas were helpful. Yay.

"But can we talk about something else now?" Noire asks. "I want to think about that on my own time. Later."

"Sure." I say as gently as I can. "So, what was it you were sewing?"

"I'm actually knitting." She murmurs, and holds up the small piece of fabric. "W-We're going into warmer territory, so I plan on getting new clothes, and I'm making this shawl to go overtop of it."

"Just started?"

"Y-Yes."

"I presume you've done this before?"

"Many times." She nods. "No one else in our group really knew how to sew or knit, so I did all the repairs and would make new clothes out of fabric we found."

"Oh cool. What did you make."

"Well…"

We spend most of the afternoon talking about quietly talking about small things. Noire talks about all the things she's made and repaired, and I tell her what I know about how clothing has changed in modern times. I never in my life thought I would spend any length of time doing this, but it's a surprisingly pleasant way to spend the afternoon.

Morgan eventually comes back around dinner and complains that I'm having fun without her. I pick up my goniometer after dinner, and I think I can safely call this a productive day.

We're also less than a week away from Ylisstol. I'm trying not to think about it.

---

This was a chapter in which things happened. I don't write combat well, so that's why the Risen fights weren't really focused upon.

I like this chapter. I don't know what it is about it, but I like this one.