The Force's Shepherds
Chapter 8
Arena Ferox
Chrom took a breath. The air was crisp and cold. Just cold enough to give him goosebumps. It was almost a refreshing feeling. In fact, he would have felt rather happy if it wasn't for how odd everything suddenly felt.
His eyes were closed. Yet he was standing. He knew he was standing too. Or was he?
He opened his eyes just a little. Enough to catch a glimpse of pale sunlight rising above a flat horizon. He could see an ocean, smooth as glass, sprawled out before him. Small waves lapped at the rocky shore he stood on. It was a pleasant sight.
But it was wrong. He was not supposed to be here.
Where was he? He opened his eyes more and looked around him. There were some sandy bluffs overlooking the beach he was on. But beyond them there was nothing. No trees, no grass, not a single sign of life.
But wasn't he supposed to be on the road to Arena Ferox? There should be snow on the ground. Forests nearby. Not an ocean and what may be the beginnings of a desert. Chrom swallowed hard.
"Hello?" He called out. His voice hesitant.
There was silence. He furrowed his brow. He felt uneasy as his feet sank further into the sand. He reached back to grab Falchion.
But nothing was there. His trusted weapon was missing. Panic seized him as he spun around, hoping to see Falchion strapped to his back. But his fears were confirmed when he did not see even a hint of metal on his back.
He was alone, in an unknown land, without his weapon.
"Where is Frederick when you need him?"
The wind huffed. And with it, a sound that reminded him of a low chuckle whispered in his ears. It wasn't a warm sound either. It was cold, void of happiness. A sense of evil permeating it that made Chrom's muscles tense.
This beach had gone from serene to dangerous in his eyes. But he did not know why.
The wind laughed again. Chrom spun around, searching for the origin of the noise.
Am going crazy? He thought as he once again saw nothing.
"No."
Chrom froze. The voice did not laugh. It spoke. And it sounded incredibly close.
There was an edge to the voice. Whoever possessed it spoke quietly, but had a tone that cut deeper than any blade. It demanded his attention. Compelled him to listen. Drove a sense of discomfort so far into Chrom that it made his hands tremble.
"You are not going crazy." The voice chuckled, mocking him in a way.
Chrom's eyes widened. He felt hot breath against his neck.
"You are completely sane."
He felt sweat beading on his brow. Never in his life had he felt so unsettled. So anxious. He wanted to turn around and see who was speaking to him. Confront the person that shot fear through his very core. His breathing began to grow ragged. And for the first time, Chrom noticed that it was freezing.
He was sweating. And it was freezing.
"Turn around boy." The voice snarled, "Cast a glimpse at the monster that you wish to know."
Chrom gulped and turned around. Behind him, standing in the shallow water was a man in black robes. A dark hood hid his facial features. But Chrom could see that this man, whoever or whatever he was, was a warrior. His upper body was lean. But Chrom could see the powerful muscles beneath the black robes. The man carried an aura of power. And next to him, Chrom felt insignificant.
"Who are you?"
The man chuckled again. This time it sounded manic. The stranger was so amused by Chrom's question that he had to take a second and catch his breath. The man inclined his chin. And beneath the hood, Chrom saw red skin and yellow eyes.
"Just a nightmare."
….
Chrom awoke with a start. His chest heaved as he sucked in an enormous breath of air before rapidly exhaling. He could feel a thin veneer of sweat lining his body as he lay in the small cot. He blinked several times before taking a deep breath. Doing his best to steady his breathing and calm his racing heart.
Once he managed to calm down, he tossed the thin blanket from over his body and rose from the cot he had claimed the previous night. He glanced out of the barracks window. It was nearing dawn. A few rays of sunshine were starting to peak over the horizon. The sky changing from the inky blackness of night to the warm colors of morning. He ran his hands over his eyes and face before standing up and stretching his arms over his head.
That nightmare. Just what was that? He shook his head, puzzled. It was not the worst nightmare he had ever suffered. He had far worse when he was younger. Before his father died, he dreamed of him falling on the battlefield in Plegia. He still regarded that as the worst nightmare he ever had. Especially since it seemed to come true just a few short months later. But he knew that was just a nightmare. It had to be.
But this dream. Him standing on the shore of some desert with another menacing man, it felt far too real. But it was surreal at the same time. As if the land he was standing on did not exist except in his own mind. He furrowed his brow as he strode out of the barracks room, careful not to wake the other shepherd's that were still sleeping.
He stepped outside and into the crisp, wintry air of Regna Ferox. He let out a shivering breath before rubbing his hands together. Thankfully the wind was not too brutal. The massive coliseum that dominated the small village surrounding it, shielded it from the harsh, western winds.
Chrom had yet to see the enormous arena in the daylight. And as the sun rose in the east, it's brilliant rays hit Arean Ferox with a flash. In that moment, Chrom felt the breath leave his lungs.
There were few structures in the world that could take his breath away. Living in the Ylisstol Palace his entire life tended to take away the majesty of other buildings that dotted the Halidom. But never had he seen such a building as Arena Ferox.
It towered over him. Easily as tall as the Royal Palace, if not taller. Great stone columns and arches supported the massive structure. Middling around the base, he could see some market tents being set up for the day. Several horse drawn carriages were being carted inside of the arena. Each one laden with crates, barrels, even several massive wooden chests. He could make out some carvings on the stone. Depicting heroes of old and great triumphs of the warriors of Regna Ferox. It was both intimidating and awe inspiring. A marvel of engineering that proved the Feroxi were not just a warrior people.
"Impressive, isn't it?"
Chrom glanced to his left. Ben was leaning up against the wall of the barracks that the shepherd's had been given. He was already dressed, the ratty old brown cloak thrown over his shoulders. It clashed violently with Virion's frilly blue shirt, but Chrom figured Ben did not mind that much. And if he did, no doubt the man would acquire his own clothing soon. Once Chrom paid him from the Halidom coffers that was.
Add that to the to do list once we get back. Chrom noted mentally before opening his mouth to speak.
"I thought there was nothing in this world as majestic as the Royal Palace. Clearly I was wrong."
Ben nodded, "There is a case to be made. But I'd say that the arena is more imposing than majestic."
"But neither of us can deny, it is quite the spectacle." Chrom rolled his shoulders, "What are you doing up so early?"
Ben shrugged, "Restless. You?"
Chrom grimaced, "Same."
"And you have every right to be, given the circumstances."
Yes, the circumstances. The Feroxi Commander Raimi had guided them into Arena Ferox late in the evening. The Khan was apparently already retired for the night and he had no other government officials ready to meet with the Ylissean prince. So, Raimi instructed that a barracks be set aside for the small group of Shepherd's, bid her goodbyes (which included challenging Chrom to another friendly duel upon his return through the Longfort), and left them there. Twiddling their thumbs.
"Don't worry." Ben advised, "The Khan will surely be informed of our arrival. I'm sure that someone will come to fetch you in an hour or two."
"Don't you mean fetch us?"
Both Ben and Chrom glanced back at the barracks door. Robin was awake. Or, as awake as he could possibly be. One eye was still closed, the other was cracked open. He shuffled out to stand in the morning air, yawned, then scratched the top of his head.
"Sleep well?" Ben asked before gestured at the mop of bed head on Robin's head.
"Hm?" Robing smacked his lips together, "For once… yeah." He yawned and stretched his arms high over his head, "No nightmares this time."
"Nightmares?" Chrom leaned against a wooden post, "You've been having those too?"
Ben arched an eyebrow as he glanced over at Robin.
"Apparently all three of us have not been sleeping well then." Robin noted.
"You too Ben?" Chrom asked, surprised.
Ben waved off his concern, "It's nothing to worry about. Dreams… dreams pass with time."
A nagging wave of melancholy swept over him for a brief moment. He could remember when he gave the same advice to a certain young padawan. He swallowed hard and moved away from the wall.
"Frederick is here."
"Hm?" Robin turned around and saw the Knight marching towards them.
If it was anyone else, Robin would have been shocked. But it was Frederick, so this was par for the course. The devoted Ylissean knight was already fully armored and awake. He carried himself without a shred of weariness despite the long march they made to Arena Ferox from the Longfort. He snapped to attention in front of Chrom.
"Good morning, milord." He said, "I'd like to inform you that I have fed and watered the horses. Seen to several security issues I deemed paramount to fix, asked the Feroxi kitchens to prepare us a light breakfast. And managed to-"
"Do you ever just… stop?" Robin asked, his voice thick with exhaustion.
"My duty to look after the Prince and Princess never stops." Frederick scowled.
"Relax Frederick." Chrom said, "Robin meant nothing by it. But you should consider taking some time to rest yourself. You can't possibly keep this pace up forever."
"On the contrary, this is what I was trained to do." Frederick responded, "Also, I meant to inform you, the Khan wishes to speak with you."
Chrom's eyes bugged out of his skull. He looked down at his shirtless form, "N-now?"
Frederick nodded, "And not to worry milord. Before you awoke, I laid out your finest linens and uniform beside your cot."
Ben raised an eyebrow, "Absurdly dedicated." He whispered to Robin.
"It's not natural." Robin nodded.
"Thank you Frederick." Chrom looked at both Ben and Robin, "Don't wake the others, us four will go meet the Khan."
"Are you sure we should not wake Lissa as well? She is the Princess?" Frederick asked.
Chrom shook his head, "Let her rest. The march took it's toll on her. I'm sure the Khan will understand." He scratched an itch on his scalp before nodding, "I'll meet you out there out here in five minutes. Then we will go meet the Khan."
Ben nodded and Robin gave Chrom a weak thumbs up.
As Chrom stepped back inside, Robin sensed Fredericks disapproving gaze on him.
"What now?" Robin groaned.
"As the tactician of the Shepherd's you should be just as dedicated as I am." Frederick scolded.
Robin rolled his eyes, "I am. Why do you think I'm so tired, I was up late studying."
"Both of you please." Ben interrupted, "This is the last thing we need right now." He gestured at Robin, "Go get dressed."
Robin sighed and gave a slight nod before shuffling back into the barrack. Leaving Frederick alone with Ben.
"You encourage him by not allowing my opinion to be voiced." Frederick said.
"Some of them do not have the same stamina as you and I, Frederick." Ben reminded him, "Would you ask Princess Lissa to go about doing as much as you." Frederick opened his mouth to reply but Ben stopped him, "After all, she is the Princess. Surely her responsibilities merit such… dedication."
Frederick closed his mouth. He folded his hands in front of his body, "You raise a valid point." The Knight then snorted, "But I don't think you have the same sense of fortitude as I do."
Ben raised his brow, "Really?"
"If you believe I am wrong then we should test it." Frederick noted.
"How so?"
"How else do two swordsmen take measure of each other?"
Ben closed his eyes and sighed. Combat, of course. He glanced at the rapier strapped to his hip. The blade still felt extremely uncomfortable. Awkward even. And it was not because it was poorly made or a poor fit. He just missed the feeling of his lightsaber in his grip.
"Later." Ben sensed Chrom and Robin about to emerge from the barracks, "We have a Khan to meet."
….
The Khan's throne room was a curious thing in Ben's opinion. It was furnished lightly. A wooden chair sat at the end of the room. Before it was a massive fire pit that already blazed bright and hot in the cold morning. Skins of various different animals lined the walls and floor of the room. Each beast growing more savage in appearance as they grew closer to the wooden throne. To Ben, it looked like the opposite of the Exalt's throne room.
The throne room in the Ylisstol Royal Palace exuded an aura of peace and calm. Friendship and a warm welcome. This throne room exuded nothing short of power and authority. Once inside, you were no longer the most powerful. It meant to make any visitor feel like an ant in the presence of a giant.
Two Feroxi soldiers guarded the main entry. Both armed with long lances and slender swords. Each as fierce looking as the other. Ben had no doubt that those two were some of the most tested warriors in the Khan's army. After all, who else could effectively guard the ruler of a warrior people.
"So what do you think the Khan is like?" Chrom wondered aloud.
Ben shrugged, "A warrior in both appearance and personality."
Part of his mind said that the Khan would be a brutish figure. Someone who was stronger, faster, and more ferocious than any other Feroxi in the land. But another part of his mind, a part that sounded like Master Yoda, reminded him of an all too true mantra.
Size matters not.
"I can see it now." Robin said as he began to imitated a proud warrior. He placed his hands on his hips, his coat swaying out behind him, "A great warrior of unparalleled equal. Muscles rippling out of only the finest armor. A forest of chest hair and a truly magnificent beard that only the greatest of men could have. And-"
The doors to the room burst open. Robin froze.
Marching into the throneroom, two Feroxi warriors on other side, was a small, slender woman. Her skin was dark in color and her long blonde hair was tied up into a high ponytail. Red armor plates covered her body. And her eyes held an intensity to them that signaled one thing and one thing only. She was the dominant one here. Everyone else bowed to her.
Ben nudged Robin, "Go on." he teased, "Regale us more with your ideal Khan."
"Shut up!" Robin hissed.
"Alright!" The woman barked as she swept passed Chrom and warmed her hands over the fire pit, "I got pulled out of training for this. So it better be good."
Chrom blinked, "Y-you're the Khan?"
"I'm a Khan, yes." The woman replied. She spun on her head, "Khan Flavia. And you are Prince Chrom of Ylisse." She sat down beside the fire and rolled her shoulders, "Care to explain to me why the Exalt herself could not come to speak with me?"
Chrom gulped, "Um… she was…"
"Busy?" Flavia finished for him, "I'm sure she was if she sent a group of children." She cleared her throat and spat to the side, "Alright, speak already."
Chrom cleared his throat, "Your grace I-"
"Ah, mistake one!" Flavia raised her hand, "None of that your grace crap. We here in Regna Ferox prefer plain speech. So speak to me as you would anyone else."
Chrom gulped, "Very well. The Exalt asks for an alliance with your people. The Plegians continue to cause strife along out borders. She wished to exhaust all diplomatic options before resorting to violence. But should war break out-"
"You want the finest warriors on the continent at your back." Flavia gave them all a slight smirk, "Can I say I'm flattered that you came to me then. Those Plegian dogs have yet to do that. Haughty bastards think they can be our equal. Pah! I doubt it." She rested her arms on her knees as she rested easily beside the fire, "And those damn Plegians have also been giving us problems, if reports from Commander Raimi are to be believed."
Chrom nodded, "We had a… discussion about that at the Longfort."
Flavia uttered a loud laughed, "She challenged you the old way did she? Girl's got stones on her. She'll make a fine Khan one day." Flavia's lips parted into a grin, "And you beat her. So clearly you know your way around a fight. And I respect that." She got to her feet, "I would love to ally myself with you against the Plegians."
"Excellent, I will-"
"But I cannot."
Chrom's mouth snapped closed. He cleared his throat, "Um.. why?"
Flavia shrugged, "I'm not the commander of Regna Ferox's armies."
Robin raised a brow, "But you are the Khan, aren't you?"
"I am a Khan." Flavia clarified, "Not the Khan. There are two ruling Khans in Regna Ferox. I rule the Eastern half. And the great oaf Basilio rules the western half. We both meet up in Arena Ferox once every several years for a tournament that will decide who commands the Feroxi armies, and by extension, who has the greater authority in the country."
Ben's eyes widened in fascination. Out of all the cultures and planets he had been to, this was the first he'd ever heard of such a system of governance.
"Great." Chrom huffed, "So we're just out of luck."
"I did not say that, did I?" Flavia smiled, "It just so happens, that said tournament is today. Lucky you."
"Indeed." Ben muttered. How coincidental indeed.
"Ok, what does that mean?" Chrom asked.
"It means that me and the Western Khan will battle for that chair." She pointed at the throne, "And over who gets to live in this beautiful arena."
"You and the Khan are actually going to battle over who rules the country?"
Flavia snorted, "Not us personally. If that was the case, our nation would have been enveloped in quests for vengeance and blood feuds years ago. We have champions fight for us. As long as that champion is not related in any way, they are fair game." She smiled at Chrom, "Although, we've never had foreign royalty be a champion before."
Robin gulped, "I don't like where this is going." He whispered to Ben.
"This is utterly fascinating." Ben replied, "Don't interrupt."
"I'm not- ugh!" Robin frowned.
"What do you think, Chrom says yes or no?"
"Are you really trying to get me to bet on whether or not Chrom is going to risk his life in a duel?"
Ben gave Robin an amused look. Which surprised Robin. It was the first time he had ever seen Ben so… cheerful almost. Entertained might be the better term. Not depressed may be more accurate. Robin sighed in defeat.
"I vote he's going to say yes."
Chrom gripped Flavia's outstretched hand, "I win you the throne, you agree to our alliance."
A mad grin formed over Flavia's face, "Deal." She laughed loudly after shaking Chrom's hand, "Oh that oaf Basilio is not going to know what hit him!"
And without another word she left them. Strutting confidently out of the throne room towards he quarters located in the eastern half of the arena.
As the doors slammed shut behind her, Robin's shoulders sagged.
"That wasn't much of a negotiation."
Chrom chuckled, "Rather one sided indeed."
"On the contrary." Ben remarked, "That was utterly fascinating. And that was not the negotiations."
Chrom raised an eyebrow, "And just what are the negotiations going to be exactly."
"The aggressive kind of course." Ben replied, "You have a duel to win now."
Chrom gave Ben a confident smile, "I'm glad there wasn't any diplomatic haggling." His hand reached back and gripped Falchion, "I prefer to let this do the talking for me. C'mon, Frederick is waiting outside. I'm sure he'll want to know what's going on."
As the trio strode out, Robin could not help but feel anxious. Without knowing, he let out a nervous breath.
"I've got a bad feeling about this."
….
The deserts that covered the Plegain wilderness were quiet tonight. General Mustafa sighed as looked out over the endless dune seas. It was a hot night. A pale moon sight high above him and the small contingent of men he had with him. He could hear several of his soldiers grumbling behind him.
They were sent out by the Grimleal on a secret mission. One that no one was to see or hear about. According to that warlock, Validar, there had been a strange magical occurrence out in the deserts near the western coast. One that warranted investigation.
But not his personal attention. Mustafa thought to himself as he brushed some loose grains of sand from his thick, black beard.
His powerful legs carried him easily through the loose sand that made his country. That warlock always seemed to earn his ire. Validar and the Grimleal exerted far too much control over King Gangrel. But he had always been suspicious of the Grima worshipers. While he too had been raised in the Grimleal religion, he was not a devout fanatic like many in Plegia.
He liked to listen to reason instead of a religious mantra.
Which was why he distrusted Validar. It would have been one thing if he was simply a wizard of some renown. Mustafa had many a wizard under his direct command. It was that he could control the masses with just a word that sent a shiver up Mustafa's spine. Just a whisper in the King's ear, whether from him or his pet witch, Aversa, and the King would get spun up in knots over conspiracies and plots of murder.
It unsettled the stoic general. But he kept his opinions to himself. He was still a general. He still swore service to Plegia and her King. And he would be damned if he betrayed that oath.
"General?" A young swordsman strode up beside him. The plegian must have been no more than twenty years.
A fresh recruit. Mustafa assumed. He was not surprised. King Gangrel had been ramping up the conscription rates as of late. Preparing for a war that Mustafa hoped would not come.
The first war with Ylisse had been devastating for both sides. Neither had left that conflict free of deep wounds and scars. He could recall the battlefields of that war. The sands of Plegia soaked with the blood of many soldiers. Too many young souls wiped out in just a few years. It had sickened a younger Mustafa then, and saddened an older Mustafa now.
"Yes?" Mustafa replied.
"How much further is this, magical thing the Grimleal told us about?"
Mustafa frowned. Yes, how much further indeed? They had been traveling the deserts for several days now. Another day and they would arrive at the sea. He could not return with nothing. Validar had the King's ear. And the King would share Validar's fury if Mustafa returned empty handed.
"Just keep marching soldier." Mustafa ordered.
He hated keeping his men in the dark like this. They did not know how long they had to be deployed. Only he did. ANd he did that for a reason. The last thing he wanted was disgruntled soldiers under his command. He had worked too hard to ensure his army's loyalty. He would not let it unravel because of a Grimleal assignment.
"General! Up ahead!" One of his archers called.
Mustafa's gaze snapped up. His face grew grim. Standing at the top of the next dune were two lone figures. Both clothed in black robes and hoods. One was clearly a young man. Just from the way he carried himself. He strode powerfully through the sand. But he was not a large young man. He seemed rather thin to Mustafa.
The other was even more interesting. It appeared to be an older man. A cripple at that. He hobbled along with the help of a strange, metallic, gnarled cane. His gait looked unnatural. As if his joints had ceased to properly function long ago.
And yet, despite their appearances, it was not the younger man in black that drew Mustafa's attention. The older one, the one with the cane, there was a malevolence about him. One that set Mustafa on edge. His men seemed to feel it too. He could see some of his soldiers hands kneading the grips of their weapons.
"At last." The old man in black hissed, "Friends."
Mustafa's hair stood on end. The voice was powerful. Hoarse and malevolent, but powerful nonetheless. A voice that cause his stomach to flip. But he refused to show any weakness. Mustafa pulled his shoulders back and inclined his head at the two strangers.
"Hello… friends." He said, "Who are you?"
The man with the can uttered a manic chuckle, "Travelers. Yes… travelers. We have come a great distance in order to speak with your king, General Mustafa."
As he drew closer, Mustafa could see that the man was not a man at all. He looked like a monster. He could just barely see his chin beneath the shadows of his hood. But his chin was black and red. And the hood seemed to be propped up by some bony protrusions atop his skull. The general could only describe it them as horns. The younger man in black remained silent. He at least looked somewhat normal. Normal flesh and hair beneath the hood. Nothing strange or out of the ordinary.
"How do you know my name, sir?" General Mustafa asked forcefully.
The hunched man laughed, "I know you're name General. And I know much, much more. But that is unimportant. I have need to speak with your king, and his Grimleal."
Mustafa's eyes widened in understanding. He gave the two figures a stiff nod.
"Follow us. We will lead you to the Capitol."
The older man smiled, revealing sharp, yellow teeth, "Many thanks, General." He hobbled after the General and his men, "Come apprentice." He told the younger man in black, "Our work has now begun."
And chapter! Interesting huh? I wonder who has shown up now? And with whom? That was a fun part of this chapter to write. I find it both interesting and fun to write from a character's perspective that is normally viewed as an enemy in the games. It gives a whole new dimension to the story in my opinion. And now, Chrom will have to win the alliance of Regna Ferox. That will be a hell of a fight! Anyways, let me know what you all think of this chapter. As always, I hope you all enjoyed. Have a nice day!