Okay so this fic was supposed to be about Radim... but it ended up as a match-up of all the Patch members and I'm so happy with how it turned out. I never knew I needed Radim & Thalim interactions so much.
The 10 Patch priests were all gathered in a large room illuminated by fire. The time for the Shaman Fight was near and they needed to discuss the delicate topic of organization. Almost everything had been taken care of; the money to accommodate poor shamans from all over the world, the stadium on the abandoned island near Tokyo was almost built, the accommodations in the village were all built and prepared. However, there was one topic that still needed to be addressed.
"Chief, who will be the announcer?" Kalim asked, his voice resonating through the small room. Goldva shot one eye at him, and at that moment, everyone knew what she was going to say.
"It's all in the will of the Great Spirit, Kalim," she said, puffing out a cloud of smoke from her pipe. Everyone nodded in understanding. The will of the Great Spirit was absolute, the first thing that they were taught.
"We will need someone who isn't afraid to speak in front of crowds and who isn't afraid of fights," Renim spoke up, looking at Kalim, who had asked the original question.
Magna smirked.
"We should also choose someone who will be loyal to the cause," he remarked, glancing at Silva across the room.
"Maybe we should also choose someone who won't be a jerk for no reason," Silva shot back. The two of them earned a hard look from Goldva.
Thalim, usually the quiet one in the meetings, nervously raised his hand. Taking a step back when all eyes were on him, he cleared his throat.
"I think Radim would do a wonderful job," he said, speaking quietly but loudly enough for everyone to hear him. Now, all eyes fell on the tall, lean Patch with sunglasses that he didn't necessarily need in the dark room.
"Sure, I can do it," he shrugged. He definitely didn't harbour any fear of public speaking. However, Bron interjected, his massive silhouette shielding the fire.
"How can you comment on fights when you dislike fighting?" he asked, his eyes narrowed. Several sighs could be heard, most notably Kalim, Chrom, and Radim himself.
"I can still comment on fights even if I'm not interested in fighting myself," he said. To speak with Bron, he had to tilt his head back to be able to look him in the face. The giant Patch now snorted.
"You only fight out of duty, right?" he taunted him. Everyone there knew that Bron had a nice side to him, however, when discussing their priest duties, he was always the one to stick to the rules the most, followed by Renim.
"I don't see what's so bad on only fighting out of duty," he countered. "Not everyone is like you, Bron."
Rutherfor shifted from her place. At barely 16 years old, she was the youngest priest present, and she was usually too timid to speak up, but she gathered up her courage. She was with her own people, and with the Shaman Fight approaching, she didn't have any time to be scared.
"I think Chrom would be a good choice too," she said, her voice so low that only the ones closest to her could hear her.
Silva, who stood the closest to her, shrugged.
"I think Rutherfor has a point. Chrom does love being in the public eye," he commented, earning a look from Namari. The other Patch narrowed his eyes.
"Aren't you only saying that because you're his best friend? We should stay neutral, even in this," he said, the words rolling off his tongue slowly, making an accent on "s".
"Well then, who do you suggest?" Kalim asked, joining the conversation. Namari licked his lips.
"Namari doesn't have a favourite," he said, referring to himself in a third person. Kalim and Silva looked at each other, shrugging. That would be just like Namari, not to have a preference.
Renim sighed.
"Alright, let's vote. Who is in favour of Radim being the commentator?" he asked. Before anyone could raise their hands, Magna cleared his throat.
"I mean, why vote when you can have a fight? Radim versus Chrom, anyone?" he smirked, looking over his fellow Patch members. Several of them rolled their eyes; they weren't up for the thrill of a fight, some of them just sighed, and only Bron looked excited at the prospect of a fight.
"Well, let's go," he cheered, nudging Radim in the shoulder. The tall Patch sighed.
"You know what? Chrom can be the announcer," he said, tired of this eternal bickering between them. He adjusted the sunglasses on his face. He wasn't about to get tricked into a fight. Chrom could have the position if he wanted. He did like to sing and dance the most, after all; surely he would have no problem being the announcer.
Goldva cleared her throat.
"Maybe she'll finally realize that smoking isn't good for her," Chrom leaned over to Silva and Kalim and whispered, so quietly that only the three of them could hear it. Kalim raised his hand to his mouth; it seemed that he was coughing, but in reality, he was trying to hold back laughter.
"Chrom will be the announcer, the Great Spirit has spoken," Goldva stated, looking over all the Patch priests. Some of them grumbled.
"I thought we were the ones to decide that," Radim muttered to himself, getting up and leaving the cave. The meeting was over. It was time to go home.
Several months later
Dressed in his ceremonial clothes, mask firmly on his face, Radim was stunned. Standing on a wooden fence, he was looking down at Chrom's unmoving body. Everyone was already gathered, only Silva was still absent. Even in ceremonial masks, it was easy to recognize everyone; despite the age difference between the oldest and the youngest (not counting Goldva) was twelve years, they were all brought up together, training for this occasion.
And now one of them was gone.
Radim wisely chose not to speak up when Silva appeared. He was angry, of course he was angry. Chrom was just murdered in cold blood, but he was wise enough not to say anything. Not when he saw where it got Silva.
"A death among us only foreshadows the coming of a king, and should be celebrated. This should not be so hard to accept for a true officiant," Kalim spoke. His words were harsh, but they needed to follow the Great Spirit's teachings.
The eight of them turned to leave, leaving Silva with Chrom's body. The funeral was done; they would need to discuss their next steps with Goldva.
Once in the apartment he shared with Namari and Thalim, Radim shed his ceremonial clothes, choosing to go for a white shirt and pants. Thalim prepared coffee for the three of them in the little kitchen they had at their disposal, but Namari waved them off, heading to bed.
Thalim was left standing with two coffees, looking worriedly after him. He himself also didn't look that good. His face retained a sick shade of green. It wasn't difficult to guess how he was feeling. Radim felt the same way.
"He's taking it quite hard," Thalim whispered, handing the coffee to Radim. For once, he discarded his sunglasses and took a large sip of the coffee.
"Aren't we all," he muttered, earning a sad look from Thalim. The two of them sat down next to a low table, setting their cups on it. Thalim had two of them in front of him, taking Namari's cup as well.
"You're gonna over caffeinate yourself if you keep this up," Radim nodded towards the cups. Thalim shrugged and took another sip to show that he didn't care.
"I think I really need it right now," he replied, and the two of them fell into an uncomfortable silence. An empty feeling lingered in their hearts.
The group wasn't complete without Chrom, and they felt his loss. It felt surreal, at first, when they gathered around their comrade's fallen figure. Now, the reality was slowly sinking in. Their brother was dead. He wasn't coming back.
"You know, I feel bad for Silva," Thalim mumbled into his cup of coffee. "He was his best friend."
Radim could only manage to nod. "I can only imagine how he and Kalim must feel. Chrom did share the apartment with them. It must be awful to be surrounded by his things."
Thalim sighed.
"I know Goldva would say that it's the will of the Great Spirit, but…"
"... but you think that's it's a cruel fate," Radim finished, taking a sip. "I know. I feel that too."
He took a few moments to think about what he wanted to say next.
"It will be soon and we'll reunite, after all."
Thalim sighed and downed his first cup in one go.
"What a cruel game the fate is playing with us."
They were back home. The participants of the second round were on their way to the Patch village (if they could find it), and the Patch priests were holding another meeting. The nine of them stood in the room, the big screens used to monitor the surroundings of the village turned off, only reflecting the light of the fire.
This time, there was a heavy silence. There were only nine of them. The hard truth had settled in by the time the last fights had gone by, but they were still a member short.
Goldva was puffing the smoke from her pipe and ignored the nine pairs of eyes on her. Only when she was done smoking, she spoke.
"It was the will of the Great Spirit that Chrom died, and the Great Spirit had chosen his successor. Come on out, Nichrom," she said, her voice raspy from all the smoking.
Behind her, a small shadow came out into the light, and everyone recognized the nine-year-old brother of the late Patch.
An excited chatter broke out between the remaining priests, one could hear both positive and negative opinions.
"He's still a child," Kalim breathed out, so quiet that he wasn't heard by anyone but those around him.
"Being a Patch priest is a big honour," Renim reminded him, nudging him slightly in the ribs.
Silva decided not to comment. On one hand, seeing Nichrom was too much pain. He reminded him of Chrom, and the wound from the loss of his friend still wasn't healed. On the other hand, the look in Nichrom's face… that wasn't the happy boy they had left behind in the village when they left for Tokyo. That boy was gone. Instead, his expression was calm, but his eyes were cold and calculating, filled with hatred. Now, Nichrom was reminding him a little too much of Tao Ren, the very person who killed his brother.
Magna was the one to take the lead.
"Welcome, Nichrom," he welcomed him with a warm tone that alone indicated that he had something in mind. The others knew him well enough to tell.
The rest of the priests hurriedly repeated their welcomes and stood aside so they could make place for the youngest member. Standing between Rutherfor and Magna, Nichrom took his place as a Patch officiant.
Goldva cleared her throat.
"Now, I seem to recall that we had a conversation about who will be the announcer. Before Chrom-" several people in the room visibly flinched, "-got the position, Radim was the best choice. Is everyone in favour of Radim being the commentator?"
Eight heads nodded. Radim was indeed the perfect choice for that. Not even Bron tried to dispute the idea, since he had no one in mind who would do a better job. Nichrom, for obvious reasons, didn't participate.
Radim adjusted his trademark sunglasses.
"I can do it. If not for me, then for Chrom."
This time, no one flinched. Only the silence ruled the room for several minutes before Goldva spoke: "Very well, these are all the matters that needed to be discussed."
Ten heads nodded. After a long journey back home, they were all quite exhausted, despite having replenished their furyoku, but the time difference was still getting to them. After several months spent in Japan, they needed to readjust to the American time zone again. They were shamans and could handle a lot, but this? No.
It was why Radim sat in the coffee shop with Thalim and Renim now, drinking a very strong, black coffee.
They were all dressed casually on their cloaks, light and easy to move around with, and leather boots.
"You know, I could never get used to the taste of coffee," Renim commented, staring at his cup. "But I need it. You make good coffee, Thalim," he said, nodding towards the youngest of the three. He nervously scratched the back of his neck.
"Thank you," he replied sheepishly,not knowing what all to say. Then, he gulped down more coffee.
Radim shook his head.
"I told you, you're gonna over caffeinate yourself one day. You'll be awake until the first shamans arrive," he said with a slight smile.
"As if you're gonna fare much better, with the amount of coffee you just drank, Mr. Commentator," Renim said in a light tone, indicating that everything was just a joke between friends.
Radim put a hand over his heart.
"Me?" He let out dramatically. "No way! Knowing myself, I'll pack it at midnight. I'm not made for late-night escapades."
Renim grinned and shook his head, clicking his tongue in disbelief.
"Whatever you say, Radim, whatever you say."
Thalim took the empty coffee cups and deposited them in the sink. He would take care of them later.
"I do think that you'll do a wonderful job commenting on the matches," he said, sitting back down and folding his arms on the table.
Radim raised an eyebrow.
"You think so?" he asked a genuine question.
"We know so," Renim interjected. "Otherwise we wouldn't have chosen you."
Radim chuckled slightly.
"I was only the second choice," he reminded him gently. Renim scoffed.
"Well then, do it for Chrom. I'm sure he would be happy to know that you got the post."
Looking at the two hopeful faces, Radim nodded.
"Alright. For Chrom."