Chapter 1: Winds of Change
A light breeze rolled over the smooth bricks the boy sat on, sending a shiver through him as it passed by. The gust distracted him from his previous focus on the town around him, making him wonder just where that wind was going. He chuckled to himself as he shook his head, remembering that the winds weren't exactly well known for their sense of purpose.
He was surrounded on all sides by hundreds of houses, each one made of a similar stone, wood, and brick roofing as all the others. One home would have a lighter-colored grey wall than the next. Another's roof would have a steeper slope than its neighbor. All different, but identical at the same time. All eventually fading into a mesh of yellows, browns, and greys as they went off into the distance, only cut off by the green plains surrounding the town.
Each house was surrounded on all sides by gravel pathways. All of which eventually combined into the main roads, leading towards the center of town. A sight which the boy could only imagine since his view of it was blocked by a larger structure, what he assumed was a church from its fancier design and single belltower.
He did see the people walking away from it though, each one carrying baskets filled with produce while others replaced them with empty baskets of their own. That as well as the constant talk he could hear implied that the area was probably a market.
"Hey, kid!"
The boy perked up at the sudden interruption to his thoughts, turning down to see the lightly accented voice that called out to him.
"Yeah?" he called back, getting a good look at the blond-haired man below him. His green and white robes looking surprisingly clean compared to the rest of the people he was watching before.
"How'd you get up there on the roof?" he asked.
The boy looked behind him, briefly wondering if there was a better response than what he already knew, something impressive. After failing to find one, he simply looked back down at the man and shrugged. "I, uh, don't actually know."
The man below simply stared at him for a second before laughing to himself. "You got a name, kid?"
The boy nodded. "Chris, what about you?"
"Gregory," he answered, waiting a moment before asking, "You really telling me that you don't know how you got up there?"
Once again Chris looked around, shifting a little as the familiar heat of embarrassment started to build. "Um, yeah," he answered, scratching the back of his head. "The last thing I remember was trying to get some early sleep and then waking up here, that and I think I went on a bike ride. So I decided to just take in the view."
Shaking his head, Gregory looked up once again, "Alright, and what's your plan on getting down then?" After a moment of seeing Chris look around for anything he might have missed once again, he shook his head, a light blush on his face as he did so. "Fine, I'll see what I can do," he said with a sigh.
"What do you mean?" Chris asked as he started walking away.
Turning back towards him, Gregory answered, "I'm going to look for someone with a ladder, you just stay put and try not to slip!"
Chris' eyes widened, his hands grabbing into the roof as he yelled back, "Wait!" Gregory stopped. "Can't I just, um, is there anything around that I can jump onto?"
He stared up at Chris for a moment. "Kid, you'll get hurt if you jump down from there, it'll be safer—"
"No!" he shouted before slowly rising up. Wobbling slightly before he found his balance. "It's not even that much of a drop! I'll just try and go to the side and find some crates or something."
As he tried to get a handhold on the top of the roof, Gregory yelled up to him, "Don't try it, kid. You'll just end up hurting yourself!"
"See, It's safe!" His hands around the roof's edge, Chris tried shuffling along the side of the roof. "I'll be—"
His foot slipped out from under him. "—fine?"
His hold on the roof slipping, he glided down the surprisingly slick roof until he found himself over the edge. For a brief moment, he felt the air flow through his hair as he fell, right up until he hit the ground.
His right foot exploded in pain as he landed. Crying out in agony, he rolled out onto the cold hard stone of the walkways. After stopping—his hands taking the rest of the fall—he quickly grabbed onto his foot, wincing as another bolt surged up his leg.
A hand touched his arm, Chris jerked away from it until he saw Gregory standing behind him, his face slightly pale. "Nag—erm, I mean. Is your foot alright? I didn't hear anything break." Chris shook his head, wiping a tear away as he did so. "Well, that's good. Gods, what were you thinking moving around like that! That could have gone much worse than it did you know."
He shook his head, thinking for a moment. "Alright, I'll take you to the church, we can get you healed up there. Can you stand?"
Chris nodded, trying to ignore the pain from his foot. He carefully tried standing up but fell after another pang shot out of his foot when he tried lightly stepping with it.
"Easy kid. You aren't making it there on your own. Here, let me help." Gregory took his arm, wrapping it around his shoulders. Slowly, the pair stood up. After Chris shifted himself to get more comfortable, they started walking, Chris making sure to put as little pressure on his foot as possible.
After finding his balance, he managed to get a better look at Gregory. His blond hair now appeared a little dirtier than it had from the roof, having looked fairly uncut as it dangled down the sides of his head. His eyes focused on the road ahead of us as he took even steps. What Chris found most interesting were his clothes though. His shirt felt unlike most of the clothes he was used to, its blue fabric scratching his arm slightly as he tried to think about what material it was.
"Hey, kid!" Snapping out of his thoughts, Chris looked up at him."Why'd you jump down like that?"
"I, uh, slipped."
A sigh. "Alright then, why'd you try to jump down? I said I'd get you a ladder to help you down."
"Oh, sorry, I…" a pause as he thought, "I didn't want to be a problem for you guys, but I guess I just made it worse, didn't I?"
"I wasn't doing anything today, kid, just wandering. And apparently trying to make sure children don't slip off of roofs. Not the first time I've seen someone slip like that but it is the weirdest."
An awkward silence formed between the two as they walked along the path, Chris' gaze fading down as he slowly accepted the quiet. Occasionally, they'd pass by a townsperson or two, Gregory waving back to them or making some remark. Eventually, they started meeting more people as their surroundings grew louder. Chris looked back up again as they wrapped around a corner.
Dozens of stalls were scattered around what he assumed was the town's center, with a few canals separating them into different sections. From what he could tell, there wasn't much organization between the stalls, seeing as he could see about four carts of apples from where he stood. Despite this lack of planning, there were hundreds of different people, all dressed in similar grey, brown, and black clothes in a medieval style.
"Huh, that's a market," Chris muttered, earning a laugh out of his helper. "What?"
"Nothing," he answered, "Anyways, we're almost the church. Once the priest gets a good look at you your foot will be better in no time."
Polished white stone walls towering over the other houses around it, leaving the single belltower to stand proud around the other, shorter brick roofs around it. The church's doors became more visible as they got closer, their well-designed frames of carved wood displaying a symbol that made him stop in place in front of them.
The symbol took up most of the door's face, easily larger and taller than Chris himself was. The symbol itself had two thin arms, spread out wide over the door almost like a pair of wings. They curved down around the base of what looked like a teardrop, finally ending in a single point on the bottom. As he looked at it, Chris couldn't help but feel like he'd seen it before.
A sharp knock broke his thoughts. "Hey, Father August!" Gregory yelled, "We need some help out here!"
After a moment the door creaked open, revealing a short, brown-haired man in blue robes. As the door opened more Chris could make out the golden outlines the robes had, as well as a short metal cane he walked with.
The cane itself was more interesting though, with two gold-colored wings coming out around the orb that sat at its top. The rest of the staff was covered in some kind of writing up and down its handle, the meaning of which Chris tried to remind himself to ask about later. Specifically when his foot hurt less than he was currently trying to ignore.
The old man—the priest—then spoke up, having taken in Chris' appearance, "Ah, Gregory, what seems to be the problem with your friend here."
"We're not friends," Gregory sighed ", this one here fell off of David's roof a bit ago, hurt his foot from it. It's not broken from what I know, but I was hoping you could help him with it."
August nodded, taking hold of Chris as he was passed over to him "I understand, come here. You have a name, yes?"
Chris perked up at the question. "Um, yeah, Chris. Can I assume you're the local priest?"
"Yes, that is correct. And I apologize for forgetting like this, my age has yet to help my memory."
"Oh no, this is the first time we've met. You're good," Chris said, turning to Gregory as he was sat down in one of the pews inside the church. "And thank you for helping, I just wish I hadn't slipped and wasted your time."
"It wasn't a waste, just don't go up there again. I'm not helping you out a second time." He shot back.
"Yeah… sorry." He turned back to August. "So is there anything I should be doing with my foot? Straighten it out, wrap it in something, anything?"
"There is no need for any of that." He chuckled as he reached down for Chris' ankle, the injury hurting slightly as he felt around the area.
"Mmm, you merely sprained it, this will take no time at all," he said, taking his cane out and pointing it at Chris' ankle. "Please, hold still for a moment."
The cane's orb began to glow a faint blueish light from its center, grabbing Chris' attention as it shone on his ankle. Slowly, the previous throbbing in his foot was replaced by a dull fuzzy feeling, almost like putting on a heavy sock. All the while Gregory stood back and watched as if nothing strange were happening.
Once the light faded, August leaned back with a tired sigh. Chris hesitantly put his foot on the ground, noticing that it felt as good as it had before the fall when he put pressure on it. His eyes shot up to the pair, neither of which seeming to think anything was unusual about the previous events.
"What, was that?" he asked.
The two shared a confused look for a moment. "Do you mean the healing? It's just magic," Gregory answered, Chris' eyes shooting open as he did.
"Magic," he stated, both men nodding in response, "magic is real?"
"Are you implying that it isn't?" August asked.
"No, definitely not—"
"Father August!"
All three of them turned towards the door, seeing dozens of people rush in and slam the doors behind them. Some of them had small cuts on their bodies, with a few having more severe injuries. One man had a large gash on his head, which itself looked like the worst injury of the group until Chris noticed there were arrows sticking out of some of them.
August stood up, the sudden movement causing him to lose his balance until Gregory caught him. "What happened?" he asked, his voice clearly strained from something.
A woman spoke up. "Brigands, Father. They came out of the alleys and attacked the market," she answered, her breath labored from either panic or the rush.
He gasped, a labored cough escaping him. "Lay the injured down on the pews, I will—" a coughing fit interrupted him, "I will see what I can do. We will have to stay here until they leave, we can only hope they do soon enough."
Chris stared at what was happening, whatever confusion he'd had about the existence of literal magic leaving him as he watched the crowd try and thin out, many of them shaking and holding onto each other.
Chris looked back at August, who was clearly tired from healing him before. He was leaning against Gregory and—while standing better than before—probably couldn't do that many more times, and nowhere near enough for everyone here. A sinking feeling formed in him as he remembered exactly why August was so tired in the first place.
"They— no, I need to make it up to them." he thought, trying to think through any way he could help. "First things first, they need help." he quietly told himself, turning over to Gregory and August as they helped one of the people who had been shot with an arrow.
"Guys, are there any medical supplies here? Bandages, cloth, stuff like that?" he asked.
Gregory snapped out of where he was staring. "No, why do you ask?" he asked as August focused back on pulling out the arrow from the man they'd been helping.
"I, um…" he stumbled, looking around the church for anything he could help with until he remembered the clothes everyone had. Turning back to Gregory, he quickly asked, "Do you guys have a knife then?"
"No… why would we even have a knife in a church? Why do you keep asking about—" he was cut off.
"Alright, I'll have to tear it by hand," Chris stated, marching off towards the man with the large gash on his head from before. "Hey, over here," The man turned, showing the large wound on his head. "Stay still for a moment, I'll need your shirt."
Slowly, he tore out a long strip of cloth from the man's shirt, making sure the piece was wide enough to fully cover the cut. At first, the man tried to stop him, but after he wiped the blood off of it the man realized what he was doing and let it happen.
As he carefully tore at the shirt, he looked over at one of the uninjured people sitting nearby, a taller, red-haired woman. "Can you find something I can clean the wound with, clean water would be best if you can find it. Anything else I can use to help, really," he asked, the woman nodding before she quickly walked off towards the back room.
Trying to remember anything else he could about first aid, he turned back towards the general crowd, "If you guys can, try and clean out your wounds with a cloth or something like that, they should clot soon anyways but you don't want anything bad getting in you, so try and do that. If it's clotted already though don't mess with it anymore. Hopefully you'll be, healed soon enough."
Chris then turned back over towards August and Gregory, the former still trying to heal the group of people with arrows in them. Gregory refocused on Chris again, giving him a quick nod of acknowledgment before August picked him up, asking to help another person.
Once he had a long enough strip, he then wrapped it around the head wound. Tying the makeshift bandage as tightly as he could, he tried working on the other people around him. Eventually, he realized that their sleeves were both easier to tear off and were also larger and more effective at stopping bleeding.
After a few minutes, the red-haired woman returned holding a tablecloth and…
"Is, is that one of those magic canes?" he asked her.
"Yes, there was another one in the back of the storage room," she answered, "and I thought they were called staves?"
"They are, and thank you, Joanna," August answered before Chris could speak. He turned to face him again, Gregory holding him up on his side as well as he could. "As for you, I apologize for not being able to help as much as I would like to, but healing takes quite a toll on me."
Chris shook his head. "It's fine, I just wish I could help more," he answered "and I'm sorry for, um, falling like I did. If I hadn't then you guys—"
"Stop," he interrupted, raising his hand to do so. "You have done nothing wrong, in fact, you have taken to helping everyone here even though they are strangers to you."
Chris scratched his head. "I, I just wanted to help out if I could. I mean, Gregory helped me when I fell from that roof, and you healed my leg. I couldn't just do nothing for everyone else here, especially if they're all as nice as you two."
After a brief pause August turned to Chris' right, "Joanna," he asked, startling Chris as he remembered that she was next to him still holding the supplies, "could you give the staff to Chris here, I would like to see something."
She took a few steps towards Chris, who himself looked over at August in disbelief of what he thought was happening who just gestured towards the staff. Hesitantly, he reached for it.
The first thing Chris noticed as he grabbed onto the staff was that it was cold, not enough to be uncomfortable though, it was actually a nice feeling in his hands. As he grabbed it, he could feel that it was lighter than he'd have expected, weighing almost as much as a baseball bat.
The staff itself had that same writing on its silver-colored handle all the way down, though he still didn't understand what it meant as he felt all the way down to its base. There a small bump stopped his hand from going any further. At the top, where most of its weight was centered, the main orb had a faint glow to it that he hadn't noticed on August's. Looking back at it he could see that it was there as well.
The most confusing thing about the staff, which caused Chris to turn towards August, asking "Is it supposed to feel… kinda, fuzzy?"
"Yes," he nodded, closing his eyes as he said, "that would be the mana flowing into the staff. Now, may I ask you what you currently know about healing?"
"Um, there's a light and then I got healed. Wait, why does that matter? I doubt I could even do that kind of thing."
"The 'fuzziness' you felt from the staff is all you'd need to do it," he explained, "That, and an understanding of the body, though I do suspect you will have little trouble with that."
"But that was just first aid, cover wounds, clean them out, I can't do magic!" Chris urged, pointing at Gregory. "What about him, he'd be way better at it?"
He scratched the back of his head, looking away from Chris as he answered, "I don't handle blood all that well."
"But weren't you helping everyone who got shot with those arrows before this?"
"Yes, I was holding Father August steady while I looked away from the scene, why do you think I noticed everything you were doing over here?"
"I—" he looked back at the townspeople, many of them still having cuts around them that August hadn't been able to heal himself. There were even a few people with arrows in them still, people August hadn't been able to help.
People he could help.
He looked back down at the staff, taking a firm hold of it as he nodded, meeting August's eyes again, he answered, "Alright, I'll—I'll try. What do I do first?"
August smiled. "We will go over basic cuts for now," he said, gesturing over towards the crowd as they walked closer.
They stopped at a young, blond man with a cut on his arm. It was a small one, but his eyes wouldn't stop rushing between it and the door.
His grip on the staff tightened. "Alright, how do I do this?"
"Do you feel the staff's magic?" He nodded, flicking a bit of hair out of his face. "That is the mana the staff is storing. To use it, you must focus that energy through the staff and into the wound, after which you will focus on healing the wound itself with the magic."
Chris nodded, turning towards the man with his new staff held tight in hand. He felt for the soft buzzing of the staff he'd remembered, and with everything he had, he tried forcing it out of the orb. Once again the orb started glowing, but when he looked back he still saw the wound, completely the same as it was before.
He sighed, whatever thoughts he'd had before of helping the townspeople quickly leaving him as he turned back to August, only to be interrupted by him. "You focused on the staff, yes?"
"Yeah, look, I'm—"
"Stop."
"I know. I'll just give it back to—"
"Your approach was wrong," August stated, "not you."
"I—what?"
He sighed, shaking his head. "You focused on the staff, it is a common beginner's mistake, one I myself made when starting," he then gestured to the man's wound, "now, force the mana out, and this time focus on the wound as you do so."
Chris's stood still for a moment before sighing. He turned back at the man from before, and once again focused on the staff's mana. As he felt for it, he focused as hard as he could on the wound in front of him.
The staff glowed again, this time it gathered around the cut instead of simply glowing. Its light almost moved towards the wound, surrounding it in a light, sky-blue aura.
"Good, now think of how that wound will heal, what does it do as it does so? How does it bind itself together?" August said behind him.
Chris closed his eyes, visualizing the wound again as he did so. He tried thinking of what he assumed healing looked like, of the wound scabbing and closing slowly until it faded. He tried thinking of the man's cut specifically, of the skin mending itself and smoothing over as the light poured on it, slowly sealing it once and for all.
He held his breath, only peaking with one eye as he tensed up. Then, as he saw the man's arm, he gasped.
"I did it."
"I did it!" he cheered again, turning back towards August, who himself was leaning into Gregory more than he was previously.
"Yes you did, though you should be careful about this, as healing too much can tire one out rather quickly."
Chris nodded. "Got it, you get some rest, I'll take care of it," he said before marching over to the nearest townsperson.
Standing still over a woman, Chris was completely focused on healing the cut on her shoulder, one of the larger wounds of the group. He noticed a drop of sweat falling down his head, briefly thinking about wiping it away before remembering his training from August.
Opening his eyes again, he lowered his staff as its glow faded. "That's that, you feeling good?" She nodded, looking towards the door again. "Great! You'll be fine, just make sure to take care of yourself."
Once she walked away, he sighed, turning back towards the entrance as he was finally finished with all of the injuries.
Despite the fact that he'd never even seen an actual arrow before, treating people shot with them was easy enough if done right with a staff, though he wouldn't have been able to do it without August pulling out a few arrows. That, and Gregory avoiding looking at it while he did.
Chris briefly worried if anything would get infected, but when he brought the issue up with August he simply shrugged it off. There wasn't much else he could do besides give them advice if it happened though, so he simply chose to leave the issue as it was.
"There probably aren't any antibiotics or anything like that here, but it'd probably be better to keep an eye out for them just in case," he mumbled to himself, shaking his head. "Or maybe magic can deal with it, who knows?"
Once he finally got to where August was resting, Chris plopped down onto the pew, his breath leaving him as he did so. He turned over towards August, who himself seemed better than before.
"You were right about getting tired from all of that healing."
August looked over at him. "Yes, and you have done quite a good job yourself."
"No, you would have done better," he countered, "I just hope I did something close to that."
"What you did was a fine job. I am certain they appreciate what you have done for them."
He wanted to respond, but decided against it and tried to catch his breath. Outside of his exhaustion after healing, Chris noticed that he wasn't feeling too bad about himself. Maybe he'd make a decent healer for wherever he was if they'd let him stay.
He hoped so anyway, for that, and that those brigands wouldn't be much of a problem for him.
Perking up at that last thought, he turned back over to August. "Um, also, where are those 'brigands' and why did they… attack? Is that right?"
August looked at him for a second, gathering his thoughts before he spoke, "You seem to imply that you are not aware of brigands, where are you from?"
"Oh, I'm from, uh, is the US familiar to you?" a pause, "The United States? Nothing?"
"I apologize, while I am not as well versed in geography as most, I can safely say I have never heard of such places. I have heard from many from outside of Southtown over my days, however, so could you perhaps say where it is from Ylisse so I could better acquaint myself with it?"
"You've never heard of it—wait, did you say 'Ylisse?'" Chris asked.
"Yes, so you've heard of it?"
"Um, I think so, the name is kinda familia—"
"Father!" Gregory shouted from the door, "the brigands are being fought back!"
A bunch of the townspeople started mumbling to each other as August's eyes widened. "Who are they?"
Another peek through the window. "It's just one person, a young man by the looks of it. He's got a longsword, blue hair, and... "
Chris looked to August, who himself shrugged, asking, "What else do they have."
"The… the Brand of the Exalt," he mumbled.
Everyone nearby gasped at the mention of the phrase, with August himself now standing despite his prior exhaustion. Among the whispers of the crowd, Chris sat still, mouth open as he tried to focus on his words and why they were so familiar.
Suddenly, the door burst open, revealing one of the most intimidating men Chris had ever seen. Wielding an axe, the giant stumbled back into one of the closer pews, which itself cracked under both his momentum and weight. Animal furs covered his body, with a few red splotches on it from what Chris could only assume was damage from the fight he was in.
The man's gaze was focused on a figure in the doorway, his eyes squinted at the incoming light from outside the darker church. The first thing he could see was the previously mentioned sword, a long blade which was held in one hand as the man walked forward calmly, his footsteps echoing on the stone floor as he calmly approached.
Blue hair—its color matching the armor he wore—flowed from the gentle breeze outside, almost like a small blue fire as the man's gaze wiped around the room. He focusing on Chris for a second before snapping back to the bandit as he slowly got up. Meanwhile, all Chris could do was focus on his shoulder and the brand of the Exalt that was there.
"Wait, isn't that—!"
"You're gunna pay for that, you damned sheep! No one beats Garrick, no one!" He stopped himself from charging, instead, he whipped around and grabbed the closest man he could, yanking him close into a tight headlock.
"Drop yer damned sword or this lamb here gets one to the neck!" he said, lifting his axe up to the man's neck as a murderous grin spread wide across his face.
The swordsman froze, his grip on his blade tight as he searched the room, hoping for something that he could do. When all he could see was the man weakly struggling against his captor, he took his sword and stabbed it into the ground with enough force to crack the stone. He then let go of it, furiously glaring at Garrick as he took a small step back.
Chris watched as Garrick laughed, his heart racing as he realized what had just happened. He saw the pleading look the brown-haired hostage gave him—the first man he'd healed, Chris realized. He wildly looked around, hoping for someone, anyone who could help but only seeing the panic of all the other people in the room around him. His breathing turned unsteady as he realized that no one else could do anything.
His breath hitched. "I can help," he whispered. Slowly, he inched away and wrapped around a pew, ducking down under it as the brigand's laughter pounding on his ears almost as loudly as his heart did. When he made it behind him in the central aisle, he slowly crept forwards, getting back up as he tightened the grip on his staff.
Once in position, Chris raised it up as he got ready to attack. Then, with all the strength he could muster, he slammed the end of it into Garrick's head. The force of the strike went back through the staff, causing Chris to hiss in pain as he backed off.
Garrick dropped both his hostage and axe as he howled, nearly falling forwards before he caught himself on his feet and snapped back at Chris. "You'll regret that kid! I'll send you to the damned slaughterhouse for that one!"
But before he could reach for his axe, the blue-haired man ran up and slashed him across the chest before kicking him back. After a pained yell, he fell to the floor, limp as a board as he looked up at Chris, eyes losing focus. Then, with a final breath, the light left as quickly as the attack happened. Chris tried to look away, only to focus on the now accumulating puddle of—
"Hey!"
His eyes snapped up, now staring wide-eyed at the blue-haired swordsman. "Are you alright down there?"
Chris' eyes drifted for a moment before he shook his head "Y-yeah, I'm fine."
"Thank you for your help there." The man smiled, nodding towards the… body. "I doubt I would've been able to get out of that on my own."
Chris looked down at the stone tiles, avoiding his eyes as he scratching his head. "I didn't do… I didn't do anything, you came up and did, uh, your thing. You probably would've been fine without me."
"Hey, look at me," he said, his voice calm yet stern, almost commanding as it pulled Chris' attention. "You did a good job here, you saved these people. For that, you have my thanks."
Chris stared at him for a moment, unable to drop his gaze until his eyes briefly glanced down at the small mark on his right shoulder. He hesitated on his next question for a moment, realizing where he remembered both it and the identical mark on the church's door from.
"W-what's your name?"
He smiled once more, cape flowing in the breeze behind him as he extending his hand. "My name is Chrom, what's yours?"
AN: You know, I originally planned to upload the first chapter of this in April. Man, optimism is a hell of a drug. Anyways, this is my first—uploaded—attempt at an "SI", hope it's decent and gets better as I do.
I'll also give a massive shout-out to Grand Paladin Tyrux, Narwhal Lord, and a ton of other people on the discord server for general help on idea proofing so I didn't do something too dumb. And as well to Sushion (aka Bunni) and Dakota for beta reading, with emphasis on Sushion for everything she's helped with so far, this thing might've gotten off of the ground without her, but it wouldn't nearly be as good, so a big thanks to her.
If you want to yell at me to write more, or just yell at me in general, the Fanfiction Treehouse is a pretty cool place where I'm usually around. There you can find me and probably have a chat. The discord code is 9XG3U7a if you want to swing by and talk about writing or whatever.
And to end this on five paragraphs of AN, feel free to leave a review on this if it was terrible, the best thing since garlic bread, or anywhere in between. And with that, let's hope I figure out how to shorten my AN's in the future.