AN: Hey mates. I'm surprised anybody followed this story. Hell, even a favorite! I'm glad you guys like it. I'm not sure how this story is gonna turn out, and I'm playing this whole thing by ear, but fuck it. Let's enjoy this wild ride! Don't be afraid to give a review, I wouldn't mind some constructive criticism. I don't own Fire Emblem obviously. I do own my OC though.
You know, this feels familiar. Some random jerkoff waking up near a medieval town without an idea where he is? I just hope it isn't what I think it is. But it probably is. In which case, I'm ill-equipped for this kind of mess. I mean, I have guns, sure. And guns make me feel pretty safe. I'll probably be fine.
Gun-based mishaps aside, I'm pretty damn good with them, too. I grew up around 'em, so I'd hope to hell I'm good. Of course, I know gun safety. I just disregard it. Always said "The first rule of handling guns is to have fun."
Look where that got me, right?
On another note, these boots were not made for walking. They were probably made for working. I spend a lot of time on my feet, through the woods, over mountains, through swamps and mires, and man do the right shoes make the difference. Whatever put me here really made a poor choice in attire to drop me with.
I'm a simple man. I shoot guns, I write shitty poetry, I cheat my boss out of hours, and I ruck through rough terrain. Why couldn't they give me some more useful stuff? Don't get me wrong, I'm glad these boots look like they won't have holes in them by tomorrow, and I'm definitely not mad about getting a free dagger.
Confused as I am, I can't dwell on it now. I'm coming up on the town. It smells like a place where they dump shit in the street, and have no running water. Yep. The smell of poor hygiene standards. Place stinks to hell. At least I'm the cleanest looking person in town.
I find myself in front of a market full of stalls, a bridge to my right crossing a small river. Everyone's dressed like it's the dark ages, and I get the creeping feeling I know what's going on. Just to make sure, I take a second to come up with an excuse for why I don't know where the hell I am. I stop an old man passing by me and try to put on an air of someone who isn't completely out of place.
"'Scuse me, sir. I was wondering if you could tell me what town this is. Lost my map, now I got no idea where I've ended up." He raises an eyebrow, and speaks with no small measure of suspicion. "This is Southtown, son. Say, you aren't dressed like anybody I ever seen. Where are you coming from, boy?" Shitshitshit, think fast. "Aaaah, just came from the desert."
He quirks an eyebrow at me, and I get the feeling I've said something I shouldn't have. And Southtown? Oh God, I wasn't serious about being Isekai'd. I thought that shit wasn't real.
"Plegia? You don't look Plegian." Well, time to put my experience in lying to work, here. "M'not sir. Pure-bred Ylissean. Born and bred. Merchant hired me to watch his caravan. Past that I got no reason to hang around." He doesn't look very convinced, even less so when he notices my gun belt. "Yeah? Seems real convenient. And what's that on your belt?"
Should I tell him? Do they really need to know about guns on top of magic? Eeeehh.
"A good luck charm, old man. Don't ask questions you won't like the answers to. Anyway, thanks for the help. Anywhere to get a drink in this hole?" After all this I think I'm gonna need a few. He looks like he's not sure whether or not to tell me. Not that I blame him. "Cross the bridge and go left, third building past the church."
"Aye, thanks old man." He moves to speak but I turn and get moving before I have to listen to what else he has to say. I'm halfway across the bridge before I know it. Then I realize. I got no money. That means no liquor. My mood is devastated. But my mind turns toward more pressing matters.
The reality sets in all at once. The ricochet. I was choking on my own gore. Then I was here. I died. My family won't see me again, sides in a box. I won't see them again at all. My friends. My family. Oh, my God. And no technology. I'm in Ylisse. Ylisse. They have magic, sure. And I have my .45s. That's extra cool, long as I have ammo. But no running water? No phone? When's the next time I'm gonna hear music? Or see tits?
All that aside, I'm in Southtown. Have the Shepherds already been here? Or am I right on time? In which case. I'd better expect the bandits to show up soon, just in case. I gotta decide what to do. I've never killed before. But if I decide to help the Shepherds I'm going to have to get dirty. If I don't help the Shepherds, I'm probably gonna have to end up fighting for my life in this place at some point anyways.
Right. So I'm joining the Shepherds, if I can of course. So I'd better find a place to wait for the Plegians. If they don't show up by tomorrow, I'll do what I can to get a map and supplies and make my way to Ylisstol.
Okay. Good, good. I've got a plan. Now to find a place to hide away and wait. Maybe catch some rest.
My eyes drift about for a minute or two before landing on the space between some buildings next to the river. It'll hide me a bit and give me a view of the other side of town. Good place to settle in for a bit. I shuffle myself over the bridge and plop down between the buildings. 'Right then,' I groan inwardly. 'Guess I'll just try and chill for now.'
My eyes drift closed, and I nod off.
...
But in what feels like an instant, I awake to screaming.
The smell of wood burning, and people screaming in terror fill the air. Pleads for mercy bounce off the burning buildings, barely audible over the roaring fires surrounding me. Not that surprised I slept through the first half of this. Pop always said I could sleep through a housefire.
I stand, and rub the crust out of my eyes, shaking the grogginess away. I reach toward my Colts, and grab them from their holsters. Checking them reveals them to be totally unloaded.
Always check to make sure you're loaded, kids.
I grab a handful of 6 rounds from my gunbelt, and load up the first Colt as fast as I can. I holster it and grab my other one, looking down at my belt to check how many rounds I've got left. It should be 6 more rounds. Instead, it looks like I never took any rounds from it.
"...Yeah. Okay. Why not? Not gonna complain about that." I'll figure it out later, I decide. I load up the Colt, and take the other one in my hand. I'm locked, I'm loaded, and ready to give away all innocence for the sake of joining the waifu brigade.
Peeking my head, out the alley, I don't see anything. I take a right, and move back towards the bridge, making a beeline for the market. On the bridge I run across the old man.
"You! D-astard-" He erupts in a fit of coughs, spitting flecks of blood on his beard. His chest is impaled by an arrow, piercing his lung. Fuck. I coulda' saved him, if I'd just stayed awake. "D-duh, I'm sorry, old man. Shit, I'm sorry." I try to lift him up and put his arm over my shoulder. I look across the river, and I can see the Shepherds fending off some Bandits. Score. If I get him to Lissa, he might make it.
He tries to shake his arm free, but his age, and his weakness hinder him. It ends up achieving nothing. "Put me down, boy. I knew I should have turned you into the guards, damned Plegian."
Augh, he thinks I'm a part of this?! "No, no- old man, I'm not a Plegian, I told you." I holster one of my Colts, and lean the old man against me. "Just hold on, I'll get you to a healer. The Shepherds're here." He seems to get what I'm saying. Even if he doesn't trust me, I've gotta prove I'm not a Plegian.
It takes me a few moments to figure it out, but I get moving enough to cross the bridge. We make it to the other side, but by the time we get there, The Shepherds are out of view, though the sounds of fighting are still nearby. I lean the old man down against the railing of the bridge. "Listen here, coot. I'm gonna get help, stay here. Play dead, okay?" He looks at me unamused, but doesn't say anything. I'd better get moving.
I unholster my gun and run in the direction of steel clashing on steel. The shouting draws nearer, and I come upon a guard fighting off a Brigand. The Plegian bats away the guardsman's spear with his axe, knocking him on his ass. Now or never. As the Bandit lifts his axe, I lift my .45 and squeeze off the first shot heard round Ylisse.
BANG! The .45 round shreds through the Plegian's shoulder, blasting a big hole in his shoulder blade. He drops his axe, and it falls on the ground, and he looks confused, if not startled by the bellow of my gun. Then it comes to him, he looks at his arm to find it dangling at his side by a thread. He looks so puzzled, but the confusion gives way to shock as he falls to the floor.
I just killed a man, didn't I? Shot him down like an animal. Should I feel this bad? He was bad, I know that. He was going to kill someone. I close my eyes and breathe a moment. It's not the time to worry. I jog over to the guard, whose sitting on his ass, looking like he just pissed himself. "Hey, you." He doesn't respond. "Hey!"
His eyes snap over to me, wide and afraid. "Get it together. Stand up." I see my words register as his eyes change to those of a man who is still scared shitless, but now somewhat cognizant. "What's your name?" I ask. "B-Bertholdt, sir."
"Listen Bert, where'd the Shepherds, head off to?" He points me in the direction of the church. 'Motherfu- I could've just waited there for them.' "Listen, Bert. I've got a wounded old man, over by the bridge. Pick up your spear and follow me." He nods, and fumbles with his spear, but manages to get both hands on it. I lead him back to the bridge. As we come upon the old geezer, Bert shouts behind me.
"P-pa!" He budges past me, bumping into my shoulder. He comes to his knees next to him. "This is your old man?" He turns to look at me, tears in his eyes. He sniffs, sucking some snot back into his nose, tears welling in his eyes. Geez, this kids looks barely as old as me. "You got a vulnerary?" He nods, frantically reaching for it. He holds it out to me, but I shake my head. "Nah, I don't think I'm gonna need it. Give it to him, I'm going to help the Shepherds, alright kid? Watch your dad, keep him safe. I'll try to be back with a healer."
He nods to me, "Yes sir!" and reaches for his spear. I turn my back, and break into a run towards the church. Still not sure how the hell they slipped by me, slippery bastards. Long as I can plug and plant Garrick or some no-names in front of them, I'm sure I'll be fine. It takes me only a brief moment, but I'm at the Shepherd's backs, they're facing down Garrick, and he's just standing there. He's got two men flanking him. One is a mage, the other has an axe.
Ok. Ok, Thomas. You're a cowboy. You're a badass gunslinger. A rootin' tootin' bandito shootin' sumbitch. Chin up, shoulders back. Talk loud, and don't stutter.
I take a few steps forward, and bring my fingers to my mouth, letting out the loudest whistle I can muster. That seems to catch their attention, and they all divert their attention to me. Now's the time.
"Hey, anchor arms!" I holler in my best 'do-not-fuck-with-me-or-I'll-cap-you' voice. "Mind laying down yer weapons, boy?" Garrick doesn't look amused. "Who are you?" He seethes. "Where the hell did you come from?"
"It's called fashionably late, fuck-face." Look, I know I ripped it from Travis Touchdown, but when am I ever gonna be able to use that line?
I move to step past the Shepherds, but Robin stops me. Huh, I hadn't noticed upon approach, but it seems to be the default female avatar. "Excuse me, I don't mean to interrupt, but you ARE here to help, right?" "'Course. Just lemme take care of them." I don't know what to do, why did I say that? What, should I just shoot them?
I lift my .45, and aim it at the grunt with the axe, to Garrick's right. They look confused. "Hah, what are you gonna do with that?" Garrick barks. "I'm gonna put some dirt in your eye."
I pull the trigger, and a .45 barrels towards the Brigand. BANG! It hits him dead in the chest, and he crumples to the floor gasping. Everyone looks shocked, I assume them never hearing a gunshot before has to do with that. There's silence, for a brief moment. Well, not quite silence, as there's still the roaring of flames behind Garrick. I look around, and see my compatriots staring at me as though I've got two heads. Right. They don't have guns here. I better think of how to explain this.
I turn my attention back to Garrick, and his eyes shoot open. He turns to his mage, "Get him!" He orders. Before the mage has a chance I let off two shots. BANG! BANG! One hits the mage in the thigh, the next nails him in the head. He falls to the floor just like the last two men I shot. Before Garrick can utter another word, I raise the gun to him and let off my last three rounds. BANGBANG! BANG! Two reach his chest, but the third hits his...
Well, his axe. You can probably guess what happens next with my luck.
The round hits me in the abdomen, and I fall to the floor straight on my ass. I turn to Lissa, "Help! Help!" She stands frozen for a second, before she runs over, healing me. My wound starts to glow and my flesh knits back together slowly. It feels agonizing, like someone grabbing the edges of the wound and pulling it closed before sewing together with barbed wire. From front to back, and all the guts in between, the wound closes. I find that I can stand again, though I feel stiff, and a little more work out than before.
I look back at the Plegians, to find them all lying on the ground. Well, that was emberassing. At this point I've hurt myself more than any enemy has.
I nod to Lissa, "Thank for the help." and turn my attention to the rest of the Shepherds. "Mi-" Frederick starts, but I cut him off before he gets a chance. "Looks I'll explain later, alright? But there's an old man with an arrow in his lung, I came to get help." Lissa looks up at me. "What!? Bring me to him!" "Milady, are you sure we should trust him?" She gives Frederick a look of affirmation. "If there's someone in danger we should help them, right?" Chrom nods at her, then looks to me. "We'll follow you."
"This way." I tell them, leading them back over the bridge. We reach the old man and Bert in a few brief moments. "Bert! Bert!" I yell. "I got a healer, move over!" He jumps, and turns to me, Shepherds in tow. Lissa gets right to work, kneeling before the old bag. "Well?" I mutter to the princess, "He gonna be alright?" She doesn't look away from the man, focused on the task at hand. "It'll be close but I think he'll be okay. He's in bad shape."
I sigh a breath of relief. At least I didn't totally fuck it up. I stand, joints popping. Turning to the remaining Shepherds, Chrom addresses me. "Good job back there. I'm not sure what kind of magic that was, but it took care of them." He regards, a warm smile on his face fitting of the overly-trusting future Exalt. "What's your name, friend?"
Okay, fake name or real one?
Eh, I got no reason to lie about this. "Thomas Frieden. You can call me Thom." Oh, right. I gotta play the fool, don't I? Or no, would it be more suspicious to not know who they are? No, no I can't give it away yet. I wanna' see Robin freak out once she realizes at Ylisstol.
"Nice to meet you. We appreciate the help, back there. I'm Chrom," He turns first towards Lissa, "this is my sister Lissa." then towards Frederick. "And this is Frederick." He slaps Robin on the back, and she jumps a little bit as if knocked out of a trance. "And this is Robin. We met her just before the attack on the town." I nod to her, which she returns.
Frederick hops down from his horse, the weight of his armor miraculously not yanking him to the ground. "So, now do you mind telling us who you are, and what that was back there? You certainly aren't dressed like someone from around here." The tinman interrogates.
"Of course, but is it alright if I tell you over some drinks? Honestly, I ain't never been in no battle before and by now I think need a drink." He softens at that a bit, but not by much. Hardass. Chrom cuts in with an "Of course. After the town is taken care of."
Lissa clears her throat, and we all look towards the man, now with his son kneeling next to him, arrow in his hands. The old mans eyes are closed. I think he's dead, until I see his chest rising and falling. He looks relaxed. Lissa notices me staring. "He'll be alright." She assures me. "He just needs to rest."
"Right. I think I could go for a nap too." I breathe deep, looking back at Chrom. "Actually, nevermind. I need a drink even worse."