A/N: Kept you waiting, huh?

Fuckin' hell I missed writing.

Sorry this one is so short, I've been laid up in the hospital after a motorcycle accident and haven't been home to write anything, but I'm good now and starting to get back into the swing of things.

Hope you guys enjoy. If not...

Eh. What ya gonna' do, right?

Heat. Heat on my face, and the most foul and sour stench you can imagine. Like rotting flesh, and body fluids in the hot summer sun. My face is sticky, and my body hurts. My eyes peel themselves open despite the thick layer of something coating my face. I wipe my face, rubbing my hand off on my chest. The bright light irritates my eyes, making my head pound as if the sun itself were stabbing me in the brain. It reminds me of a time not so long ago, when I awoke in an open field just outside of a little town. I try to scramble onto my knees, but fall back down, finding that I'm short one.

I'm missing my leg. Right below the knee is a stump of flesh, rotting away. The bone, splintered and exposed to the open air touches the ground. It explodes in an instant flash of pain, and I'm blinded in agony for a short moment. I gasp for breath, and lean back on my hands. I look around, eyes agape despite the persistent pain. Black columns of smoke arise from burning buildings around me. This is... this is Ylisse.

I can't believe my eyes. Where is everybody? What happened? What...

My eyes are cast to the ground around me, and I soon realize I'm laying atop a pile of broken bodies. Most of them, I don't recognize. Townsfolk. Guards. I gag, bile rising in my throat. Hot and sour, it burns my esophagus, making my eyes water. I can't hold it back, and it spills all over my bare chest. I heave for a few long minutes, bordering on feeling like hours. Days, even.

These're... Oh Christ. What happened? I drag myself down the mound of corpses, desperate to get away from the hill of rotting flesh, but the pile collapses and I tumble to the cobblestone ground, my head crashing into the stone walkway. I lay there, rolling in pain and confusion.

After what I feel is minutes but I'm sure is really seconds, my eyes open again, they land on the body in front of me. It's... it's Robin. Her head, still hanging onto her neck by a thread of skin. I lunge forward, falling onto my stomach, and I crawl towards it. I hold her head, cradling it. I scream. So loud, and with so much force, I can't tell if it's silent because I'm deafened by it, or because my vocal cords are torn. All I know is by the time I'm finished screaming and wailing, my throat is shredded.

But then I'm jolted awake by a slap on the shoulder.

I lurch, breathing heavy through my nose. Right. Regna Ferox. I look to see who woke me up. Big surprise, it's Robin. Who else?

"Guh. It's you. What's up, need anythin'?" I ask her, trying to cover my face.

"I... did. But what's more important, are you alright? You were making a lot of noise." She asks, her voice soft and filled with concern. I wave her off.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Jus' a bad dream. Sorry you had to see that. What'dya need?" I sniffle, sucking my snot back into my nose. I clear my throat so my voice isn't so weak, and stand up from my makeshift bed I made from my coat and some crates.

"Well, we met with the East Khan, Khan Flavia. As it turns out, she can't help us. Not as things are." She explains. I breathe in deeply, sighing into my hands. That dream musta' fucked me up somethin' fierce.

"Okay. So what's next? We run errands for the dear ol' Khan? Bring her groceries or somethin'?" I jest, lightening the mood if only the slightest bit.

She smirks slightly, upturning the corner of her mouth. "Almost. We have to battle the Western Khan's champions in a tournament to help her win control of Ferox. She wins, she promises to pledge supplies and warriors to help fight off Plegia." She states. I already know where this is goin'. Don't tell me...

"And you want me to fight, don'tcha?" I ask, cautiously. She nods. I groan. "So, when is the tournament?"

"Tomorrow."

My jaw drops so far, I swear it almost slams into my toes. "T-to- wh- I-"

"Yeah, I know big guy. We got here right in the nick of time, seems." She pats my arm, attempting to calm me down. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. I swear at this rate it won't be a bandit or risen that kills me, it will be a pulmonary embolism.

I lean down and slip my boots onto my feet, then pull my coat over my shoulders. My back sounds like bubble wrap as I stand up from the mound of crates I was resting on.

Robin snickers. "Geez, I'm still amazed at how terrible your back sounds." Bursting out into a fit of giggles. I grab at her side, digging my fingers into her hip and she yelps.

"Pfft. Sleepin' on fuckin' wood sure ain't helped my back I'll tell you that much." I lean back, eliciting another series of pop from my spine. I reach my hands over my head, stretching out my sides, when Robin thrusts her hand out. I catch it grasping onto her wrist.

"Aah! Let go!" She shouts. I decide to have a little fun. I grab her under the knee and sling her over my shoulders, lifting her up off the ground.

"Aaaaagh!" I give a mighty roar. "Te Affligam!" I shout as I squat, tilting my head down as I lift Robin over my head, if just barely. Fuck me, training with Frederick really has done wonders. Or is Robin really that light? I set her back down gently, laughing.

She punches me in the stomach.

Not enough to double me over, 'course. She pulls my hat over my eyes, cackling. "How do you like it?" She chortles maniacally. I rub my gut, grumbling.

"What's it with you and hittin' me?" I question, picking up my gunbelt and clipping it back around my waist. It's funny, I used to only wear this gunbelt every now and then for shits an' gigs. It's become a real familiar movement, lately.

"So," I start. "besides disturbing my beauty sleep, what're you up to?" I muse. She huffs.

"I don't think any amount of beauty sleep is going to help you." She jokes. "I get the feeling you won't want to talk about it, so I won't ask. But if you change your mind,-" She says cautiously.

"I won't." I cut her off, leaving no room for argument.

"Okay. Just making sure." She assures, holding her hands up. "I'm probably going to practice my swordsmanship for a while, grab dinner after. Care to join me?" She asks. A grin splits across my face.

"Well, since you asked..."

…...

An itchy feeling washes over me, one which has become all too familiar. My meat pulls itself together. I lay on the cold, snowy ground as the Feroxi healer mends my many wounds. I close my eyes, sighing. I feel something nudge my shoulder.

"You didn't die, did you?" Robins asks me. I roll my eyes, shuffling to my knees.

"Nope, don't think so. Naga knows I ain' that lucky." I chuckle. She gives me a look I can really place, before rolling her eyes.

"Well, that's a good thing. Cause you lost, which means you're paying for drinks tonight." She gloats. I huff, crossing my arms.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't remind me..." I mope. The healer slaps me on the back, nearly knocking me over.

"Har! How'd you let yourself lose with stakes that high?" She chortles. For a healer, she sure is tough. Sheesh. Guess even healers are tough in Ferox.

I look over the woman, finally managing to get a good look. She's pretty short. About Sully's height, actually. Her hair is a fiery orange, coming just down past her face. Through her robes I can see some serious muscle, for a healer. Although for a Feroxi I'm sure being jacked is par for the course.

Damn, okay. I see you lady.

I grumble, lifting myself up using Robin. "Y'know, I ask myself that all the time..." I dust myself off, trying to brush the snow off of my jacket. And I notice something missing.

...My hat!

The woman hums, nudging my shoulder with her fist. "Lookin' for this, stringbean?" I look down, and she holds my hat in her hands. I take it, shaking the light dusting of frost off it.

"Thank ya..." I trail off.

"Name's Castor, kid. Heard you and the rest of you Shephards gave the border guard hell." She nods.

"Yeah. Once diplomacy failed." I grunt. Robin responds to the same effect.

"Case you couldn't tell, kid... Feroxi ain't really the talkin' type." Castor laughs.

"Eh, I could have guessed." I shrug.

We hear a crash as another Feroxi warrior puts another on his ass. "My job's never done, is it? I'll see you two around?" Castor mutters, before rushing across the training yard.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, and Robin slugs me on my shoulder. "Ah!" I yelp, rubbing my shoulder "The fuck is it with you people and hitting me?!"

She giggles, giving me a sly look. "She sure was a piece, huh?"

"Whuh?!" I choke. "The fuckin' hell is that comin' from?!" I turn, hiding my face.

"I think she liked you, big guy." She teases, trying to circle me to get a look at my face. I hold my hand out, shoving her back by the face.

"People don't like me, shut up." I grumble.

"Thom and Castor, sitting in a tree! F-U-C-" She sings.

"A-are we going for those fuckin' drinks or not, you rat?!"

…...

"And then I says, 'Only thing sadder than you is the number of times your ma faked a jellyfish sting to get me to piss on her!'" I finish, the table explodes, roaring with laughter. One of the more brollic warriors, a man with a comedically large beard, slams his fists down on the table, smashing it clean in two. There is silence for a moment, before the laughter returns twice as uproarious as before. The warriors move over to an empty table a few feet away, and wave me over.

"Nah, sorry guys. I'm gonna get back to my friends now, but I'll see y'all 'round." I wave them goodbye, stepping over the pile of splinters over to the table me and Robin were sharing with Miriel. I drop in my seat with a tired grunt, leaning my head back and dumping the last bit of Firewine down my throat. I sigh, enjoying the burn for a moment before diggin' into the plate of roasted scrags of meat. Not sure what it is, but it's damned good.

That, or it's the alcohol talking. Either way, the Feroxi sure know food and drinks like the back of their hands. That and fighting.

"You certainly are popular among the Feroxi. Curious." Miriel notes. I grunt, shrugging.

"They remind me a lot of the people back home. They like fighting drinking, and fighting." I push my mug aside, forgoing the middle man and going straight for the bottle.

"Hey, slow down! At this rate I'm not going to get any!" Robin complains. I give her the look. Y'know, the 'don't get between me and my alcohol' look.

"I'm the one who paid for it, so I can drink as much as I'd like." I insist, taking a deep gulp from the bottle, shaking my head. "Burns better than anything back home." I sigh.

"What is your home like, Thom? You don't seem to talk about it very often." A voice I recognize chimes in. It takes me a moment, but I come to the realization Kellam is sitting between to my left, by Miriel. How the hell did I not notice him? Is he really just fucking invisible or something?

"I concur. I must admit, I am curious. Everything about you is strange. Foreign." Miriel agrees.

Sigh. I'm not sure I feel like explaining it again. I'm surprised it went a well as it did when I told Chrom and the others back in Southtown. It definitely shouldn't have. Then again, I'm sure I can talk about home a bit. It's no Whiskey, but Firewine certainly helps loosen the lips.

"Well, lemme' see..." I start. It's nothing like Archanea. Or Valm. I'm from... well, the Outrealms I guess. I didn't come through the Outrealm gate, though." The others look on in surprise, 'cept for Robin.

"So how did you end up here?" Kellam asks.

"Y'see, that's the rub ain't it?" I sigh, exasperated. "I... died."

"Impossible. You're clearly alive. And even then, how would that explain you appearing in Archanea?" Miriel asks. I don't blame her for tryin' to make sense of it.

Only answer I really have is to shake my head. "Had to have died." I unholster one of my guns. "I shot myself. Bled out, and woke up near Southtown. All the time I spent livin' I learned that somethings just got no explanation." I shrug, taking another sip from the bottle.

"You shot yourself?" Kellam asks, concerned. "What would make you want to do that?"

"Eh, not like I did it on purpose. I was playing around and ended up getting shot." I wave him off.

"So, you played with a weapon that can kill someone with incredible ease from great distances, and ended up killing yourself?" Miriel drawls, somehow more deadpan than normal.

"...Well I wouldn't say great distances." I mumble, emberassed. When ya' phrase it like that I probably deserved to get ventilated. "Look don't judge me I'm stupid when I'm sober and I'm stupid when I'm drunk. Nobody ever said I was smart." I try to justify myself. My small, drunk brain can't find the words, and the table falls into silence save for the sound of me and Robin stuffing our faces with dinner.

"But," I resume my tirade. "As I was saying. It's nothing like this world. Realm. Whatever. Everybody is a slave. Unless you're rich and powerful." They take such extreme surprise in that. It's pretty funny actually.

"Everyone?! A slave?!" Kellam blurts. "H-how?!"

"Well, it's not like the kind of slavery you'd expect. It's modern. Different. Everyone wakes up in the morning, goes to work a mindless soul-sapping job for asshole companies, and goes home. Then, they sit around and indulge in hobbies that keep them busy until the next day of work." I take another swig of Firewine.

"These companies, or corporations, own pretty much everything. They own all the politicians. The politicians sell themselves and all the people they represent out in the name of lining their own pockets. And the worst part is people will scramble to suck the cock of any dipshit politician that says something that sounds good." Another swig. And another for good measure.

"I swear, it's like sticking your leg in a beartrap and the moment you get your leg free, you step into it again. The people in charge can do whatever they want, no matter how evil and vicious it is. But the moment I smoke a funny green plant and shoot some guns with my buddies I'm a 'criminal.'" I scoff, slumping in my seat and gulping down a little more.

They remain silent for a few moments. Then Robin cuts in with "Man, you must've been fun at family gatherings." She snickers.

"Eh. I was the drunk uncle who told all the kids that Santa wasn't real." I shrug. "And Santa is a fat man in a red suit who comes down the chimney one year a night and delivers kids presents." I dump the last of the firewine down my throat. After how much I've drank tonight it's starting to go down like water.

"... And with that I think I'll take my leave for the night, all of you should as well. Tomorrow will likely be difficult." Miriel says, pushing in her chair and striding towards the door, her big hat hitting the doorway on the way out.

Me and Robin lose it at that, both giggling like idiots. I slam my fist on the table. Catching my breath, I turn to Kellam. He's... not there?

"Kellam, you still here?"

Nothing.

I let out a breath. "I swear, it's like talkin' with a ghost. Who knows if he's there or not?" I turn to Robin. "The hell'd they even ask for if they were barely gonna ask any questions?"

"I think Kellam left with Miriel." Robin says, pausing. "And I think you must have scared them off with your drunken ranting."

I huff at that. "Well, it's true. It's a world, both beautiful an' terrible. I miss my family an' friends, but I lived a pointless existence and would die just as pointlessly. At least here I can do something that matters." I go for another sip, before being cruelly reminded that the bottle is empty.

Robin gets up from her chair, holding her hand out to me. "I think we should turn in like the others. You've had a bit to drink and I think you'll wanna' be well rested for the tournament tomorrow." She suggests. I wave to her.

"I'll be in bed soon, 'm gonna finish my food first." I tell her.

"You sure? You've had a lot to drink. Maybe some bed would do you good." She pushes.

"No, I'll be fine. I'm not drinkin' anythin' else. 'Sides, food will sober me up, right?" I placate.

"Okay, just don't be long." She says, unsure as she waves me goodnight.

I promptly walk over to the bar, slapping a few gold pieces on the bar, and I'm handed yet another bottle of Firewine. I plop down at my seat, and uncork the bottle, staring into it.

I'm not so sure what it is that's got me drinkin' like a fish, honestly. I never drank so much back home. Maybe it was because I always had work in the morning? Couldn't be that. I've got a tournament to fight tomorrow, and here I am marinading myself in liquor.

'Maybe you miss home? Maybe you wish you had done better by the people you loved before you left them forever?' My conscience rings.

Pfft. As if I had many people in my life anyways. My brother, Kimball and Wheat. That's it. Rest of my family moved away, and never kept in touch. My sisters wanted nothing to with me after dad passed away. And my oldest brother, well I hadn't seen that prick since I was 10.

It seems like life's full of people like that, y'know? People who can't take blame for their fuck-ups. Just like my brother. Just like my sisters.

Hell, even me.

They'll tell you they care. That they love you. That they're sorry. But when it comes to being a better person, changing who you are? They just can't accept it's their own fault their life is fucked up.

Is it my fault I'm here? I did end up being the thing that killed me, I guess. Who woulda' guessed playing with guns was so dangerous, huh?

I snort, and take the last bite of my dinner, washing it down with more liquor.

Hell, I can drown my food in alcohol, who says I can't drown myself in it?

Guess I'm no better than my brother after all.

I feel something bump into my shoulder. I scrunch my face up, partially in drunken frustration, partly because I have to actively focus on staying in my chair.

I turn to confront who bumped into me, and see a familiar face.

Its Castor. Who'd have guessed?

"Hey there, stringbean." She smirks, gesturing to the chair Robin was in. "Mind if I have a seat?"

I huff, leaning back in my seat. "Didn' know Feroxi had manners. Don't you just take somethin' if ya' want it?" I ask, doing my best to keep from lurching in my seat or messing up my speech.

She bellows a quick laugh. My head rings. "I like you, scrawny." She pushes the seat aside, dropping herself in it with a thud. I hold out the bottle.

"Never seen a drunk share his liquor before. Guess there's a first for everything." She jokes. I scrunch my face.

"Hey, 'm not a fuckn'..." Wait a minute. She got me there. "Heheh, nevermind." I lean back in my chair. She finishes chugging away half the bottle, sliding it back to me.

"So, what's got ya' sitting here staring into a bottle, Ylissean? Feelin' sorry for yourself?" She asks me. I think for a second, grabbing the bottle. I think of taking another pull, but I think better of it and put it down. Anymore and I'll lose my dinner anyhow.

"Eh. I've done some rotten things, I guess. But nothing you'd wanna her a stranger talk about I think." I tell her. She shrugs.

"So haven't the rest of us, I suppose. Keep your secrets, if you like." She tells me.

"Fine." I seethe, teeth grit. Everyone here's practically a stranger anyways. What difference does it make if I tell this one in particular? "I ain't been raised to fight and kill people. It makes me sick, okay?" A bitter laugh slips from my mouth, before I grit my teeth. "How 'th hell do people get used to it."

"You don't." Castor states, voice firm. I look up at her, surprised by her tone. "Look kid, you can think about it all ya' like. It won't fix anything. Ya' can wonder all day if the people you killed coulda' been left alive. But it don't change nothin'." Her tone is stern, but her eyes are full of... sympathy? Something like that.

"In the end," She continues. "the battlefield isn't no daycare. You let someone run, and they could slip a dagger in you or your buddies' backs. And you have to accept that whether you like it or not, combat is combat and its survival. First an' foremost." She finishes, draining the rest of the bottle.

"Bah. Maybe you're- nah, you're definitely right, there." I concede. "I have to do better. I guess. Drinkin' myself into a puddle ain't gonna' fix shit."

"Right ya' are, kid." She stands up from her seat, leaning a bit on the table, holding her hand out to me. "C'mon. Let's go for a walk. I had a few drinks already an' I got a big, str..." She looks me up and down for a moment, voice trailing off. "I got a big, tall Ylissean to keep me warm."

I chuckle, taking her hand and letting her pull me outta' my seat. "Do you Feroxi even feel the cold, anyway?" I joke.

"No," She laughs. "But it's a good excuse to keep you close." She says, tugging me by the hand towards the door.

Pfft. Who the hell is this lady?