Chapter 7: Playing the Right Parts

Chris' grip on the rough rope slipped for a moment. He let out a soft hiss, tightening his hand again and pulling the knot as tight as he could—a simple two-half hitch, something he couldn't even try to forget how to tie with how simple it was. With the knot as tight as he could get it, he backed away, revealing the large, white canvas tent in all its glory. Stahl glanced over at him, his green armor shining in the sun behind him as Chris sat down on a nearby rock.

"And that's it. Any other tent's need to be set up?" he asked, rubbing the light ache out of his legs again. It was a different one than what he was used to, though. Lissa had even given him the go-ahead for coming on the trip right before they'd left. Though walking for an entire day was never the most fun.

Stahl shook his head, pounding a large stake into the ground. "Not that I know of. Though we'll need to get dinner set up. I will at least, with Robin's new system."

Chris nodded, trying to remember what Robin had told him he was responsible for doing when setting up camp. After a moment, he realized he was coming up empty, looking over to the rest of the camp and noticing Frederick approaching them. Or him, since he only gave Stahl a quick nod before continuing his walk over to Chris.

"I see the tents are finished," he said, scanning them over before humming. "And fairly well set up at that, I assume Stahl's advice was of help?"

Chris nodded, quickly looking over the mass of canvas and rope again. "Yep, after the first one we kinda got into the habit of leaving the knots to me so Stahl could pound the stakes in. You guys must do this a lot, though."

"Well of course, though I've not come for conversation." He turned back to the rest of the small tent village they'd made. "Tomorrow, you begin your physical training, which itself will continue throughout our week or so of travel. While my preference would have been you starting today, Lady Maribelle wishes to speak with you. I will also be occupied with a meeting between milord, Robin, and myself.

"Oh, well, what does she want to talk about?" Chris asked, waiting a moment for Frederick to start walking back to camp.

He shook his head, still not walking back. "You would need to ask her yourself on the matter. She simply asked that she see you. If I were to guess, however, I must say that she is asking of your leg and its recovery."

"Right, that makes sense…" he ended, waiting for Frederick to start walking.

And waiting...

Chris forced out a cough. "Are you, uh, you still have that meeting, right?"

"Correct, I was waiting for you to ask where her tent was."

"Oh, oops, sorry." A blush ran across his face. "I was going to follow you there—wait, no, you aren't going to her tent. Uh, where is it?"

Frederick chuckled. "With Robin's new design for the camp, it might be confusing. She is close to the mess tent—that taller one Stahl was sent towards."

Chris quirked his head. "Wait, why'd that be confusing?"

"Because you may be more used to—" he paused, humming to himself a second later. "Actually, you've no reason to be confused by it. Forgive me. I was more used to explaining Robin's design to the others since she chose me to rant off her plans in restructuring our camp. Though that would not actually concern you."

"Right, thanks for, uh, telling me that."

"You're welcome. Now, I've other matters to attend to. I shall see you tomorrow to begin your training if nothing changes within our plans," he said, a slight frown crossing his mouth a second later. "Though Robin may find some reason to do so. Regardless, do take care."

Chris nodded back with a smile. "Thanks. You too!" he ended. Watching Frederick walk off to wherever that meeting was. He briefly felt like he should be there, but if they didn't want him…

He shook off the next few thoughts, looking to where Frederick had pointed in the mass of tents in front of him. He moved forward, having his own meeting to get to, even if it wasn't as important as that one probably was.

"Now, which one was her tent?" he mumbled off to himself, walking in the direction he thought Frederick had pointed him to.

"Thanks for the help, Lissa!" Chris said back, watching her give him a quick wave before she went back to creeping up behind Virion… for some reason.

Shaking off the thought, he looked around to see where she'd said Maribelle's tent was. It was slightly smaller than the others, this one fitting two people, instead of four. At least, that was what Stahl had said earlier.

He briefly paused, wondering how to enter before he settled on knocking on the tarp 'door' of the tent. After a second, he heard Maribelle answer, "Yes, would this be Chris? If so, do come in."

He nodded, waiting for her answer before sputtering out, "Oh! Yeah, it's me. I'll just come in then." He pushed away the tent flap, walking inside and taking in what was there.

Chris first noted the two light pink cots, both of which were more decorated than the simple white cot and sleeping bag he'd been given. In between the two sat a small table; a fancy white and sky-blue teapot and cup of tea on top of it. On the other side sat Maribelle. Another cup of steaming tea sitting in her hands as she looked up at him, pink eyes and flowing, blonde hair rustling as she said… something.

"I'm sorry, what was that? I, uh, didn't get what you said there," he stumbled out, a small heat running across his cheeks.

She giggled, gracefully setting down her teacup and gesturing to the other cot. "If you may take a seat, as well as some tea."

"Oh, yeah, thanks for this." He sat down, feeling the surprisingly comfortable bedding under him as he picked up the teacup. Or at least tried, suppressing a hiss when he felt the, far too hot rim of it. After a second, he decided it'd be better to just leave it on the table until it cooled.

"Yes. Though first and foremost, I must insist you try the tea," Maribelle said as she flicked up her eyebrow.

"Oh, uh, right." He picked up the tea by its small handle, looking at how Maribelle's own small hand fit around the bottom as her other pinching the tiny handle. He mimicked how she was holding it, taking a small sip before wincing. "It's, uh, still hot."

"Of course, it was prepared just a few moments before you arrived." She smiled, blowing the top lightly before taking a small sip. "Have you not had tea before? It seems obvious that it would be hot after being prepared such a short time ago?"

He shook his head, Maribelle's eyes slightly widening at him as he said, "I've only had coffee, actually, and not much to be honest. It was more something I drank cause my dad gave it to me."

"Truly? I refuse to allow that to continue. For now, however, I will set aside your inexperience with noble beverages for professionalism. As your healer, I must ask how the march has treated your wounds?"

"Those? Yeah, they're fine. A little bit ache-y, but that might just be because I haven't walked this much in like a week," he answered, "Lissa even gave me a look before we left, she's probably the reason Chrom let me go in the first place. I don't think I thanked her for that yet, actually. I'll have to do that later."

Shaking his head, he blew on the tea before taking a small sip, a grassy, but sweet flavor slipping into his mouth. "And, uh, how are you?"

"Me? If you must know, I spent the majority of our march riding upon Finning beside Lissa." She huffed, her eyebrows scrunching up. "Though despite my protests, she refused to join me. I've no idea why she'd prefer walking. According to her, it had something to do with a point Sir Frederick made earlier about 'delicacy.'"

She took another sip of her tea, her brow unfurrowing. "Though that is unrelated to why I asked to see you."

Chris quirked his head. "I thought you were just checking up on me?" He took another sip, still wincing slightly at the heat, but finding himself enjoying the slightly earthy taste anyways. "Thanks for the tea, by the way. It's good."

She snorted, a proud smirk on her face as she said, "Well, I would certainly hope it meets your inexperienced standards. No, my reason for inviting you was that I wish to thank you."

"Oh, thank me for what?"

"Without your intervention, my house and home would have been forced to weather the first assault in a war. At least, as far as we are to assume. With your assistance, we may be able to prevent such a travesty from happening. At the very least, I shall no longer be the cause of such a war. For that, I give my thanks." She bowed, her hand in the same place as she had it last time, back when she introduced herself.

Chris shook his head. "No, that wasn't anything. I just told you guys about something I barely knew. Maybe it'd be okay if I could remember all of it, but just telling you guys that—"

Maribelle politely coughed, interrupting him before he could continue. "You assume you need to apologize for—not knowing enough?"

Chris tried to respond, but she cut him off again. "You are not hiding anything else from us, are you?"

"I—of course not," he answered, "I couldn't do something like that, not after doing that to Chrom and the others."

She lightly quirked her head, pausing for a second before she continued, "I am curious of what you seem to blame yourself for. Though for now, I must insist that if you've nothing to hide, then you have nothing to be guilty of. While you recalling the identity of whoever that traitorous quisling would have saved us some," she paused for a moment, probably choosing the right words, "inconvenience, I'll say, it is not your fault for what you were unprepared for. If it were, then I myself would be just so for allowing myself to be captured as in your prediction, would I not?"

"But—" he stopped himself, Robin's talk in the library coming back to him for a second before he sighed, forcing a smile onto his face, and simply nodded.

She looked at him for a second, eyes slightly scrunched together before she hummed, taking a sip of her tea. "Good. Now, if you may enjoy your own please, unless you've somewhere to be soon?"

"My own? Oh, yeah, the tea. No, I don't think I have anything I need to do." He took another sip, now being able to appreciate the smooth, slightly sweet liquid. "Actually, there are some books I'd kinda like to get back to, but this is probably better."

She smirked, taking a weirdly smug sip of tea as she said, "An excellent, if poorly worded, answer." Her smirk dropped slightly, finishing her sip and setting the teacup down again. "Though if I may, there is something I've found myself curious about you."

He took another sip, nodding. "Yeah sure, what is it?"

"Back in our prior meeting, while you were explaining yourself to her grace, I could not help but notice your manner of speech. It was, how to say…" she paused, giving Chris time to quirk his head before she continued, "the best way I could describe it was forced."

His grip on the small teacup tightened, his fingers slipping off of the bottom for a second. "Uh, what'd you—what do you mean by that?" he managed to force out.

"There! Exactly that tone of voice!" she exclaimed, taking a moment before she continued, "Pardon that, though is there some strange reason you must speak that way?"

"I am—uh, I'm not doing a voice. Definitely not…" he sputtered. Almost hiding behind another, now larger, sip of tea.

"Dear, if you're attempting to be subtle about such a thing, I'd highly recommend avoiding the action you are accused of directly in front of your accuser." She let out a sigh. "Though it is, frankly, an immature action to be taking. Especially for someone of your age, though I'd hope you had some better reason to be doing such a thing, especially in front of the Exalt herself."

Chris stumbled over his words again, feeling his embarrassment heating his chest before he forced it down as best he could. He took a moment to think before finally settling on something to say. "Is it really that noticeable?" he mumbled.

She paused for another moment, tapping her teacup before letting out another sigh. "While I do consider that Robin a character of many faults, taking the conversation off of you was not one of them." She shook her head. "So you do admit to doing it intentionally, why? I highly doubt you wish to intentionally make yourself out into a fool."

He clenched his hands up, thinking if he really needed to say anything before letting out another sigh. "It's how my dad used to speak."

"Pardon?"

"Well, kinda. Whenever he talked, he was just so… confident, I guess. That and he talked like he always knew what he was going to say."

"And that was exactly how he spoke?"

Chris let out a frustrated sigh, lightly hissing at its tone. "Well, no. He always told me that if I wanted people to believe what I was saying that I just needed to be confident, and he talked really, well, formally and all. So I just thought if I was confident enough that, uh, you guys would believe me."

Maribelle paused, giving him a confused look as she looked him up and down. "Though, did we not already believe you?"

"I—well, just thought it'd be explained better if I, uh, was a little more formal about it."

She picked up her tea again after a moment, chuckling lightly to herself. "Then I will give you some advice once again. At this rate, I may end up teaching you manners after all," she said, taking another sip from her tea. "Speaking, especially in front of those of noble lineage, is often a challenge. Though I've found that whenever one explicitly tries to speak above their station, then it usually proves the opposite."

"Oh, sorry," he mumbled, looking back up at her as he asked, "So, how do I, uh, get better at that."

"That is something that will take far longer than you would like, dear. I myself still occasionally tripping over my words, especially when unprepared for an encounter. Until you can properly learn, however, I've no advice for you other than speaking with that selfsame confidence in your own voice." Chris slumped a little before correcting himself. Something he thought Maribelle might have noticed. "Though if you truly wish for advice, it would be to address your hesitance when speaking."

"Uh, what do you mean?"

She lifted her finger up, a slightly smug look on her face as she said, "Why, exactly that again. Hesitations in your "uhs" and "ohs" all lead to a lack of clarity, which could draw unwanted attention to your confidence."

"Oh—what do I do about that then?" he asked, fiddling with his pant leg a bit.

"Think of what you say before you say it, catching yourself halfway through a misspoken phrase only shows you lack understanding in what you say."

"I—" he stopped himself, pausing for a moment to force his tone sightly. "I see, I'm not sure I get it, but would this be better?"

"While imperfect, that is a remarkable improvement. I see you still have great potential to be a fine gentleman in the future."

The two sat together, enjoying their tea until Maribelle nodded, placing her cup down on the table. Chris quickly finished his own as she picked up the teapot again, nodding towards his cup. Chris pushed his own forward, taking another cup of tea and thinking how he'd phrase his next question. "Wouldn't it be polite if I was pouring you another cup?"

"No, it is my own tea, I will be the one to serve it to the both of us," she poured herself more, somehow without even looking at it, "though the thought does seem proper."

She paused for a moment before perking up slightly. "Now that I think of it more, would you earnestly be interested in pursuing such a topic? It would certainly make our talks easier if you stopped your improper gestures and hesitations whenever possible."

"Oh, I'd love to," he hesitated for a moment, "but, I already have a lot to read about, and that book would probably be better with someone else than me. I'm fine enough like this."

She hummed, tapping the edge of her teacup before letting out a quiet sigh. "Well alright then, though you need only ask of it if you find yourself curious. You've certainly more interest in politeness than most, even amongst the Shepherds." She giggled. "Despite most of them being nobility themselves, truly the pauper never cease to amaze."

Chris thought about the word pauper for a moment, but shook his head of the thought a second later. "Right, thanks for all of this then, it's been great."

"Think nothing of it dear, and we may find ourselves in a similar position soon enough, so long as Frederick's plans for you aren't hindered by our new tactician changing them again."

Chris smiled, ignoring the way she mentioned 'tactician'. "Yeah, that'd, uh, be nice." He clenched his teeth at his mistake, before thinking about her own words a little more. "Sorry for that 'uh' there. What did you mean by 'a similar position soon enough?'''

"Oh, you aren't aware? I mustn't ruin the surprise for you then," she answered, a slight smirk across her face now. Something he didn't really like seeing, but didn't question much at the time.

It had something to do with Frederick though, probably, but he could trust him.

Right?

"Stop!" Frederick called out.

Immediately, Chris and everyone around him dropped to the ground, his hands clawing into the dirt under him as he slowly caught his breath. Surprisingly though, the brutal run Frederick had just put all of them through wasn't the hardest one he'd done before. If he was being honest, he could probably do another lap if he needed to.

"Sully, Vaike," Frederick started, "both of you need to understand that while competition is fine, I've no tolerance for sabotage during training, understood?"

The two punched at each other in the arms while he turned to Chris and Stahl. "You both performed admirably, especially Chris for your first time. A fair performance from both of you."

Stahl patted Chris on the back, a warm feeling countering the heavy breaths of cool air he was trying to take as he saw Stahl smile at him.

Lastly, Frederick turned to someone who was apparently one of the newer Shepherds. "Donnel, you were the last, though not by as much as I would have assumed, good work."

"Thank you, sir," he weakly mumbled. Chris swore him being here was weird, but that could wait until after everyone picked themselves up.

"So, what next?" Chris asked, noticing a glare or two thrown his way for some reason.

"Your breath is back then?" A smile crossed his face, similar to the one Maribelle had given him yesterday, spread across Frederick's face. "Wonderful, we can now truly begin training for the day."

"Oh, got—" his eyes slowly widened "—wait, what? What do you mean by 'truly begin training?'"

Frederick let out a small laugh, but Chris didn't think anything he said was very funny.

Chris fell onto the ground with a dull thud, his arms feeling like they'd been run over by a bus. He heard Frederick say something as everyone around him kept doing their pushups, but over the sound of his heavy breathing and his heart in his ears, he couldn't hear a thing.

A firm grip of steel grabbed at his shoulders, forcing him onto his hands again as he distantly heard Frederick yell something again. And even though he hadn't heard exactly what it was, he still felt a bit more energy flow through him as he tried to push himself back up and down again.

He managed to get another six before he felt the ground on his face again.

Having never had too much of a problem with sit-ups, Chris almost thought it'd be a quick break when Frederick said they'd be doing them. At least until the first minute passed and he realized they were still going.

"Stopping now will only force me to train you harder later, especially you Chris. You clearly need this far more than you know," Frederick said, the encouragement giving Chris another burst of energy before his chest gave out. Looking around again, he could see everyone else done with how many sit-ups they'd been told to do.

Chris was supposed to do less than them, but he still wasn't even halfway done. He let out a groan in frustration, but it only managed to take his breath away from him again as he flopped back onto the ground.

Chris distantly thought of the earlier run he'd been on, what Frederick had called a 'warm up'. Even though he'd always thought he was good at running, that alone had felt like a pretty good workout.

Now, he thought he had a pretty good idea of what torture was like as he stumbled around their camp. At some point Lissa had shown up, apparently wanting to watch them run, giving some encouraging shouts along the way.

Every time she did, Chris could almost feel himself getting the energy to actually keep up with the pack, or at least Donnel. Until he tripped again, slowly picking himself back up and forcing his breathing steady, only having been able to cough a few painful breaths into his lungs before catching up to where he was.

They were only apparently through the first 20 minutes of their training, or at least that's what Frederick told them. Chris refused to believe it, but hearing everyone else groan felt nice, at least he wasn't alone in this.

A surge of energy shot through him, finally allowing Chris to catch his breath as he slowly took in where he was. He pushed himself off of the dry grass and up near a tree next to him. At least, he tried to. But after a single push his arms gave out and he just settled for looking up at the figure above him.

"Sooo, how was Frederick's Fitness Hour!" Lissa asked, her smirk wide across her face.

Chris let out a low moan. He'd tried to speak, but that was the only thing he could manage at the time. Lissa just looked at him for another second before shrugging and walking away, making him think she'd said something that he hadn't heard.

After another second, an accented voice nearby said something else. "Whew-wee! That sure was a killer. Haven't been this tired since I first picked up a hoe. Thanks Princess—er, Mrs. Lissa!"

"Donny! I said you should drop the 'Mrs.' already!" She huffed, blowing a strand of hair upwards. "Oh well, you did great back there, keep it up next time."

"Well, I sure do hope I can," he said back. "Thanks for the healing though, brought the feelin' right back into my arms!"

Chris couldn't really see what they were doing, but he also didn't have the energy to turn himself over to do that, so he just laid down and looked up at the clouds above him. After a second, curiosity filled him more than his fatigue did, the dry grass under his hands giving him enough grip to prop himself up and see Donnel, now approaching him. His hair was somehow purple under the large, bronze-colored pot he wore on his head, something he felt was weird until he remembered that Chrom had actual blue hair. A light-blue t-shirt covered him alongside some light-grey pants and brown leather boots that looked familiar. The same ones he thought he'd like back from the barracks, he realized.

Seeing him approach, Chris slowly pushed himself up against the same tree as before, letting the rough feeling of treebark digging into his back wake him up better.

He tried talking, but only managed a dry hack before starting again. "That was, uh, a lot, wasn't it?"

"Sure was!" he laughed back in a thick accent Chris could only describe as 'southern'. "Ain't any easier than before, but it'll get us mighty strong in no time."

Chris snorted. "Yeah, hopefully I'll be able to keep up with you guys in this stuff. I mean, I'll probably never be good at it, but maybe it'll work out."

"Oh, you'll be fine. I was the same way, back before his highness and them Shepherds went and chased off that dastard Rodrick. I'll bet you're feelin' like you ain't got the right stuff in you, that right?"

Eyes widening, Chris took a deep breath before he answered, "Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Was the same with me. Then Chrom said a buncha stuff 'bout me bein' better'n I thought," he said, looking off in the distance at the camp. "He clapped me right on the shoulder and said 'Donnel, you got the makin' of a Shepherd, and a sword ain't that far from a sickle. Give it some time and you'll be good enough for us,'" he finished, adding, "An' after somethin' like that, well, who am I to tell him he's wrong."

Chris waited a second, taking in what he'd said. After a moment though, he shook off the thought. Donnel was a farmer at least, he had some muscle from that. He didn't have the training to actually fight, but at least he had that.

With that, he could only nod and force out a smile. Donnel then sat down nearby, propped up on his elbows as Chris chose to look up at the same sky as before. A few clouds being the only breaks from the sea of blue above them, with a light, chilly breeze rustling the branches of pine needles above him.

The two sat there for a few minutes, at least, until Chris' thoughts focused on Donnel again as he remembered who he was. More specifically, he remembered that Donnel shouldn't have been here yet. He remembered it had something to do with a farm, but that was about it. "Say, when did you join the Shepherds?"

"When did I join?" he asked back to himself, pushing up into a better sitting position. "I reckon it must've been a good two or three weeks ago, back when Chrom said all that motivation stuff after kickin' Rodrick's rear back where he belonged. There was also something about Mrs— erm, Lissa, but I forgot it. How 'bout you?"

"Me, um…" He thought for a moment, actually counting how many times he'd slept since coming to Ylisse. "Probably a week-ish ago. I might've missed a day or two from being asleep."

He let out a gasp. "Only a week? But that'd mean I been here longer 'n you, wouldn't it—oh right! I saw you back when those dead folks were harassin' Mrs. Sully, wasn't that it?"

"You were there?" he asked, "I thought they went to pick you up… well, I guess they never really had time for that. Whatever."

"Well, it don't really matter none, I'm here now. And I'll be a washed-up hog if I give up on bein' a Shepherd now, wouldn't I!"

Chris snorted a bit, pushing down another bout of doubt. "Yeah, I guess. But you'll be fine. You were almost up with Stahl there the whole time, that's pretty good. It was better than me lagging behind."

"That's true, but you were pretty great at that first run, weren't ya?"

"I guess, but I still sucked at everything else—" he was suddenly cut off when a wooden axe flopped onto his lap.

Chris looked up, only to see Frederick walking over to Donnel, handing him a wooden sword. "If your breath has returned well enough to chat, and milady has improved your fatigue, I see no reason to delay any further. The two of you are behind on your training, especially in combat." He looked over at Chris. "And while there is no need for you to learn combat, I distinctly remember you being interested in the prospect, am I wrong?"

"Um…" Chris looked down at the—surprisingly light—wooden axe, the wood's rough handle loosely gripped in his hand as he lifted it up. He had wanted to fight, to at least help everyone else out more than healing, but…

"Isn't there, uh, another practice sword somewhere?" he asked.

Frederick raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I'd never leave without enough practice weapons, though I must ask why you are curious. Is the axe problematic?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "It's, uh, not what I had in mind. Wouldn't a sword be better? Like what Chrom uses?"

Frederick thought for a moment, before turning to Donnel, nodding over to where he could see some of the others training. "If you could practice swinging, we shall be only a moment. Ask Stahl if you need a question answered."

"Er, yes sir!" Donnel cheered, his smile dropping a little before he went off towards Stahl, who himself was nearby one of the tents by camp.

Frederick turned back to Chris, a light frown on his face. "You wish not to use an axe, I assume?"

"Yeah. I, uh, don't really want to." He took a deep breath. "It's not that I think it's a bad idea or anything, but I was looking forward to… well, learning how to swordfight. Axes don't really feel like weapons, not like swords are at least."

Frederick hummed. "Well, you do make a fine point in your reasoning, though I believe the conclusion you reached is wrong." Frederick gestured to the axe. Chris gave him a confused glance for a second before handing it to him.

"An axe is not at all similar to a sword, or even a lance," he said. "That should be obvious enough, though to say they are not weapons would be a grave mistake."

"Well, I know they can be used as weapons, but they just don't feel like they should be weapons," Chris said. "Those bandits back in Southtown, they used axes because they were available, but a sword was made for this kind of fighting. They're made to be those kinds of weapons, right?"

"Yes, those brigands were most likely only baring axes because they lacked better weaponry. Yet, to imply that they are not weapons because of such a distinction would be foolish."

Frederick arced the wide blade of the axe backwards, lifting it up higher above him.

"The design of the axe allows its wielder to put far more power into each swing they make that a sword or spear would allow. This gives it a keen advantage over many other weapons." He gave the axe a quick swing, Chris feeling a swipe of wind even from the few feet in between them.

"From what little combat I have witnessed you in, an axe would be far more suited for you. You've shown yourself both physically weak and yet willing to strike at a moment's notice with all your heart, perfect for an axe," he said. "With a sword, as you seem fixated on learning, your lack of formal and practical training will be far more evident. As well, you show far less patience than a sword requires to be used at its peak, which would need to be remedied if you did wish to pick up such a blade."

He turned his head back, looking down right at Chris. "A lance, however, would provide you a counter to your prior height problems, yet the lack of formal skill would still weigh on you regardless. To put it simply, an axe disregards your weaknesses and accentuates the strengths you have, the ideal weapon for your training." He reached back down, setting the axe perfectly into his hand before getting back on his feet.

"I—" Chris hesitated, wondering if he should honestly keep this up. Frederick was right, there really wasn't anything wrong with axes. And apparently, they were even a good fit for him.

But… they weren't what people who protected others used. Chrom, Robin, Lucina, they were all using swords to save others. They used swords to help everyone else, and they were heroes. He couldn't be them, but if he got as close as he could…

"I—" he stopped, nodding to himself as he built what confidence he had in him, thinking how he'd respond. "I want to learn how to use a sword."

Frederick's eyes widened as he looked down at Chris, who started to get back onto his knees as he added, "I get what you just said, and it all makes sense, and I probably don't even know what I'm talking about. But, I want to use a sword. I'm not going back on this. And you said it yourself, right?"

He took the axe in his hands, pushing it back to Frederick's hands. "Those are problems I have right now, but it'd just take training to get over them. If I get practice with a sword, couldn't I be as good with it as I'd be with an axe?"

Frederick glared down at him, and for the first time, Chris didn't feel the courage he'd built up go away. His eyes stared up in a sharp point, trying to break through the glare Frederick was sending at him.

And a moment later, he let out a sigh, taking the axe from Chris' hands. "If that is what you wish, so be it, though do know that I will not go easy on your training. You've much ground to cover before you are ready for any form of combat."

A wide smile shot across Chris' face as he barely held himself back from cheering. "Thank you, I'll do my best, it probably won't be that good in the end, but I'll try! Thank you!"

Frederick put on a half-smile. "We shall see. Now, I do believe Donnel will make an excellent sparring partner for you yet. Even more so now that you've the same weapons. In the meantime, watch what he and Stahl are practicing, those motions are ones you will become familiar with soon enough." He turned back to the camp, leaving Chris to join them and get familiar with swordplay. Something he felt he'd enjoy doing, but he couldn't know for sure until he did it.

And the rest of the day was spent doing exactly that, and even after Frederick's Fitness hour earlier, he still felt eager for more.

Chris bounced his leg as he sat on one of the cart wheels. The weapons cart, if all of the weapons inside of it meant anything. Time felt like it was grinding to a halt as he mindlessly waited for something, anything to happen.

Eventually, some hoofbeats thudded over the duller sounds of the battle, snapping Chris out of his head as he instantly took off towards the source, in this case, Stahl and his horse. He briefly noticed Lissa and Maribelle were still back in the cart, but that didn't matter as long as he could help out, at least this much.

"Where's the injury?" he asked, quickly whipping his staff out.

Stahl gave him a confused look before answering, "My left side, one of those creat—er, 'Risen,' right? Well, whatever they are, they got a swing in, but I think my armor took most of the hit. I'd still be out there, but Robin said she wanted it checked out before we make the final push."

"Got it, I'll take a look." He quickly scanned where it'd hit, noticing a little blood staining the outside of his armor, but it was barely anything. His staff quickly came up, and the next moment the gentle glow he'd become familiar with covered the wounded area.

After a few seconds, he lowered the staff as the light faded. Stahl gave his side a quick double-tap before shooting a thumbs up at him. "Thanks for that, I owe you one!" he said, kicking his horse back towards the battle, his sword ready to actually help the Shepherds.

"Well, I suppose that was fine," Maribelle commented behind him, almost making Chris jump. "Though you failed to check for other possible injuries he may have not noticed, such as one on his arm from a sliding glance."

"Uh—" he caught himself, turning around to see her now leaning right behind him. "Did he one there?"

"No, I assume not," she said. "But the battle may have made him forget of his injury by the time he'd gotten here. Do remember to check for such things in the future." With that, she finished, turning around and making her way back to the cart as Chris caught up to her.

Lissa had already been at the cart when they'd gotten there, perking up as she was talking to Sumia. "Hey, nice one there! If you keep running off like that, I might not even need to do anything!"

"She's right," Sumia added, "but are you getting tired? You've been doing almost all of the healing since we've started. You don't need to do everything, you know."

"I'm still fine, it's nothing," he lied, taking a second to breathe as he settled back onto the same wheel he'd been sitting on before. The runs between the cart and whoever was rushing back to them weren't very difficult, but they added up over the time all of the Shepherds had been fighting. His inexperience at healing didn't help much either.

Walking around to a different half of the cart, he stepped on something, blinking away from a light in his eyes coming from the ground. He glanced at it, a bronze shortsword—the only type of real sword Frederick had given him recently—was the source. He sat down on the new wheel, bitterly remembering just before the battle when he'd tried picking up a sword, and Frederick and Robin's talk with him after that about why not to do it.

Then, off towards the battle, he heard Vaike shout something about 'tenure' that caught his attention, only to shoot up when he heard him cry out. A few other shouts echoed from the battle as Chris got ready to heal again. At least before he stopped, stealing another glance at the sword on the ground stopping him in his tracks.

The next second he'd already picked up the sword, almost forgetting his staff in his other hand as he took off towards the battle, a wave of courage pushing him forward.

At least until something that felt like a rock crashed onto his head, his new sword clattering to the ground as he pain burst out and his hand rushed to the source. He stumbled, turning back to see Maribelle glaring at him.

"And what exactly were you planning to do with that?" she asked, glancing at Lissa hurrying past her as she rolled her hand towards Vaike.

"I-I just wanted to help out!" he yelped. "I'm barely doing anything back here!"

"Until this, I would say you've nothing to worry about if that was your concern." She crossed her arms, nodding towards the cart as Lissa walked back to it. "Clearly, however, your intent was only to cause worry. In that, you nearly succeeded, had I not stopped you from running yourself through on one of those creatures' blades."

"But any of you guys can do that!" he said, rubbing at his head. "So far I could've just been left behind at Ylisstol and nobody would've noticed!"

She frowned, crossing her arms with a glare. "If you truly believe that, then clearly you've misunderstood what impact you have. You are here to help, not get yourself killed, especially so if you are under my tutelage."

She turned back to the cart, gesturing to the sword on the ground. "Now, if you could please return that, we face enough concerns with tripping over those creatures' swords as is. I'll not have us stumbling over our own as well."

She walked off, Chris slowly reaching down to his—the sword, picking it up in his left hand as he started marching back. At least, before his grip on the bronze blade tightened.

"She isn't watching me, I could just run and join them and she can't stop me…"

He could run and help them, they'd complain, but that wouldn't stop the fight. He could put his training to use. Maribelle and everyone else were right that he might be terrible with a sword, but he could heal, too. It was something nobody else was doing, something he could do.

He took a step away from the cart, ready to rush off until before a sudden dagger of ice through him. He… he probably couldn't even do that, could he?

The tip of the sword, pointed at the fight, fell. Then, he turned back to the cart again, seeing everyone else still there, still waiting for injured Shepherds to come back to them to get healed.

When he got back, he still took most of the chances to heal who he could, Maribelle taking a broken bone or some other, more serious injuries he couldn't understand yet. Lissa and Sumia would chat and help out, with Sumia even taking care of a Risen that had gotten too close.

And then, the battle was over, and all of the Shepherds got together. They broke into their usual groups to help set up their camp, and got ready for a big dinner. They talked about the battle, Chrom said something about how all of them had done great today, someone cheered Robin's name, and the day was over.

And Chris was there too, doing what little he could to help them out.

Before we begin this regularly scheduled Authors Note, I'd like to correct the last one. My explanation of how I'm going about Chris' character arc was poorly worded, and that's my bad, thanks to Cavik for pointing it out. What I meant by that was that I'm not going to be suddenly changing anything about his character. This, however, doesn't mean he'll be staying the same forever, moreso that I doubt I'll be changing his currently planned character arc than anything. Looking back at the previous AN though, it leans more towards "I'm not changing him, at all." Which even I don't want. Anyways, back into my shitposter persona. Haha sans Undertale smh my head, aight, I'm back.

So yeah, to speed things up. Bunni/Sushion made this good, Fanfiction Treehouse has cool people (Code: 9XG3U7a), and I'm still doing a write, but it's now slow because college. Also, y'all are cool, and I appreciate reviews.

Also, will plug the criminally underrated "Waves: Light" by The Dragon Lover, it's a phenomenal Fire Emblem Fates fic which is earnestly one of my favorites, and as well, a great inspiration. So if you're waiting for something to read while PAtS is on its two-week intermission, do check that one out. It's fairly slow, but a wonderful story in its own right.

Well, until next time you nerds!