The finally meeeeet! Many thanks to the lovely newmrsdewinter for her concise, precise, and invaluable beta work! Please read her fics too.
As a heads up, if you haven't played Awakening yet, a lot of this is basically the first chapter in the game-not necessarily verbatim, but close. There is also a brief mention of intense violence/bodily harm towards the very end of the chapter; if that scares you please jump directly to the sentence "the flash of light subsided."
Either way, enjoy now that they're (almost all) together!
"What do you suppose we do?"
The deep voice roused Robin from unconsciousness. The sudden presence of light and redness beneath the cover of her eyelids hurt her and made her stir uncomfortably. And wherever she was, it smelled strongly of grass.
All of those details became inconsequential as she registered the pounding ache in her head. She tasted blood in her mouth and blinked blearily awake. Robin could barely make out two figures: one male, and another female.
"I...I dunno…" the girl's high, clear voice responded anxiously. At this point, Robin's eyes had fully opened, and the people standing over her turned away from their discussion to face her at the sound of her dull, pained groan, realising she had awoken. Now, their images stood out in sharp contrast to the sun lighting them up from behind.
"I see you're awake now," the man spoke. His was the deep voice she had heard.
"Hey there," his blonde companion said softly, almost shyly.
Robin decided that she liked them. Their words were kind and their intentions seemingly good.
She hoped.
"There're better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know," the young man—he must be the one called Chrom—teased. He leaned down closer and held his gloved hand out to her. "Give me your hand," he prompted.
Robin never quite knew what it was about this man that instilled such a deep sense of confidence in him, and despite her years of being trained to mistrust strangers, nothing stopped her from reaching out and taking his hand. As soon as their skin touched, the Mark on the back of her hand pulsed sharply—not with pain, but with a sensation that made Robin's heart race and her breath hitch at the back of her throat.
The thousandfur robe prickled and stood up on end excitedly in response.
As she was pulled up, Robin looked very carefully carefully into his eyes. She had seen red, purple, even black and yellow eyes before—but never blue. And even though she felt unsteady and dizzy on her feet, all she could think of was that his eyes seemed even bluer than the sky itself.
Chrom threw an arm out to steady the hooded person as soon as they were up. They did not look too balanced on their feet, and they were very clearly injured to begin with. "You alright?" he asked, and then mentally cursed himself. Of course they did not look alright.
"Y-yes," they replied. "Thank you, Chrom."
Well, that was surprising.
"Ah, then you know who I am?" Chrom asked, arching his eyebrow.
The person froze. "No, actually." The response was an odd one, but Chrom allowed them to continue. "I...it's strange...your name, it just...came to me…"
Chrom was somewhat disinclined to believe them, but the circumstances of their encounter, coupled with how evidently injured the mystery person was, convinced him to cut them slack. The last thing they needed was an interrogation session. However, certain things needed to be cleared up first.
"...Hmm, how curious," Chrom murmured. The hood obscuring their face was making it hard to discern their appearance and their voice; he had to lean in closer to be able to hear what they were saying. "Tell me, what's your name? What brings you here?"
The person paused, wracking their brain for the answer. The very process seemed to hurt them, as they winced and swayed precariously. Chrom kept close in case they needed to be supported again.
"My name is...it's…" They brought a hand up to their head uneasily. "Hmm?"
Their legs buckled from under them, with Chrom diving swiftly to catch them. Though the person was shorter, pulling their slack weight back up was no easy feat, and Lissa hovered anxiously at their side. The little dog began to paw and whine at the person's boot.
"Easy there," Chrom said. "You don't remember your own name?"
The person's hands, protected by tattered gloves, suddenly seized his biceps in a vicegrip. Frederick advanced on them warningly, but Chrom stopped him with an outstretched palm. Despite the obscurity of their hood, the desperation in their voice still carried over well enough.
"They took him," they whimpered.
"Who?"
"Henry! They took Henry! Please, you have to help me—"
"Wha—who's Henry? Who took him?"
"I...I…" They struggled to calm their breathing, turning this way and that, seemingly unable to make sense of their surroundings. "I'm not sure if...I'm sorry, but where am I, exactly?"
Lissa gasped and snapped her fingers together in realisation. "Hey, I've heard of this! It's called amnesia!"
"What?" Chrom was completely baffled by the term.
"Am-ne-sia. Loss of memory due to traumatic events, physical trauma, or powerful hypnotic spells and drugs. There are two types—"
"I think we can skip the medical lesson for now," Chrom interrupted. "And besides, how are you so sure that it's this…'amnesia'?"
"With a person all banged up like that and unable to remember their own name, what else could it be?"
"It's a load of pegasus dung, that's what." Frederick stood by his side and sized up the stranger with undisguised suspicion. "We're to believe you remember milord's name but not your own?"
The stranger, though their hood hid their eyes, looked as though they were a deer caught by a hunter's torchlight. "But—I…"
"Frederick," Chrom rounded on the knight, chiding him. "I understand your concerns, but what if it IS true? Look at them. We can't just leave them here, alone and confused. What sort of Shepherds would we be, then?"
The knight's distrust was not completely unfounded: on previous patrols, they had encountered several bandits and brigands who had attempted to feign injury and beg for the help of passersby (preferably merchants), only to hold them at knifepoint and demand their valuables in exchange for their safety. And though he did not like to admit he could be entirely too trusting at times, the circumstances did not smell of a plot to Chrom. The mysterious person's dog had come to them wounded and distressed. And unless that person was so dedicated to trickery as to hurt their own dog and themselves in such a manner, then he had no reason to suspect them of ill intent.
Even if it was more than a little strange for them to know his name.
Frederick sighed. "Just the same milord. I must emphasise caution. 'Twould not do to let a wolf into our flock."
Chrom took a good, long look at the stranger. They were still watching them back just as warily as Frederick, though they had kneeled stiffly to take up the dog in their arms and was accepting its worried licking. They looked about as threatening as a wet piece of paper...but Frederick did have a point.
"How far is Southtown from here?" he asked the knight.
"Not very. But I advise against Southtown just yet—the border post is around the same distance."
"Right then—we can take them to the post and sort it out there."
"Wait just one moment," the stranger said. Lissa had helped them stand up and she placed her hand on their elbow to steady them. Even in their sorry state, their voice managed to convey some amount of boldness. "Do I have a say in this?"
Chrom laughed at the unexpectedly defiant answer, and at Frederick's responding scowl. "Peace, friend—" They deflated visibly at the use of such a word. "I promise we'll hear all you have to say at the post. Now come."
With Lissa's gentle encouragement, the person hesitantly took Chrom's outstretched hand and allowed themselves to be led to the bottom of the hill to where the horses were waiting.
His mind dwelled on the way his Brand had pulsed in response to their touch, and he wondered.
Robin took in the grassy scenery as the horses walked down the well-trodden dirt road. She was riding with the unfriendly looking man (Frederick, she reminded herself) at his insistence, arguing that if she was a threat, then he would be the one to keep the closest eye on her. He had even made sure to bind her wrists together with rope, should she attempt to draw a dagger on them or something equally nefarious.
While she understood the gesture, it was still bothersome.
"Fred," an exasperated Lissa had groaned when she saw the rope. "Isn't that a little too much?"
"We must not take our chances with this one, milady."
"What're they gonna do? Keel over and die on us? That'd be soooo threatening."
"Sarcasm aside, Lissa has a point," Chrom agreed. "If you'd have tried to rob us, wouldn't you have made your move by now?" He addressed Robin directly with a friendly smile, but she recognised the underlying appeal to her: to give an affirmation that she was not, in fact, a danger to them.
However nice that was, she doubted that an actual thief would answer honestly. Their kindness was disconcerting after months spent with only Henry and Neferi for company, so the best answer she could give was a noncommittal shrug.
Given her injuries, they allowed Robin to ride on horseback rather than force her to follow them on foot, much to Frederick's displeasure. Horses she was fine with; however, their large hunting dogs had surrounded her, curious and uneasy because the robe was scentless. Memories of the time when she was mauled years ago made her shrink back in fear.
Chrom noticed. "Oh, don't worry, they're all quite friendly, I assure you. See?" He grabbed her by the wrist without further warning and stuck it out to the dogs, who snuffled and licked at the skin exposed under her torn glove. Satisfied, they wagged their tails and went back to Frederick, who had watched the display with a scowl that never seemed to have left his face from the moment he saw her.
While she appreciated Chrom's gesture, she did not like being touched so casually by a complete stranger. The rope was tight, but her bracers kept her skin from being rubbed and chafed. "What will you do with me? Am I to be your prisoner?"
Chrom's loud, easy laugh carried over from where he was riding at the front. "Hah! You'll be free to go once we establish that you're no enemy of Ylisse."
Robin's heart stopped. "Is that where we are? Ylisse?"
"You've never heard of the halidom?" Frederick uttered incredulously from behind her on the saddle. "Ha! Someone pay this actor. They play quite the fool! The breathless tone is especially convincing..."
Chrom pulled his horse around to face them, looking cross over such words. "Frederick, please," he chastised. When he addressed Robin, his speech was much more patient as he began to explain. "This land is known as the Halidom of Ylisse." He gestured to the wide open sky and the long grass swaying in the wind.
The land of heathens and degenerates, Validar's intrusive words rang inside her head.
"Our ruler, Emmeryn, is called the exalt. I suppose proper introductions are in order...my name is Chrom—but then, you already knew that," he teased. Robin flushed hotly under the safety of the robe's hood. "The delicate one here is my little sister, Lissa." He squinted a bit before asking, rather embarrassedly, "uh...can I ask if you're a man or a woman? It's kind of odd just thinking about you as a 'they.'"
Robin arched a brow under her hood. "...I'm a woman."
Lissa frowned and pulled her horse to join them and smack her brother's arm. "I am NOT delicate!" She humphed, irritated. "Ignore my brother please. He can be a bit thick sometimes. But you're really lucky that the Shepherds found you!" She exclaimed brightly. "Brigands would've been a rude awakening!"
As they resumed their way down the path, Robin timidly ventured a question. "Shepherds? You tend sheep...in full armour?" Ylisse must have been much more dangerous than she had previously thought, if shepherds had to protects their flocks outfitted as though they were knights.
Chrom glanced back at her with an amused smile. "Heh. It's a dangerous job. Just ask Frederick the Wary here."
"A title I wear with pride," the man sniffed. "Gods forbid one of us keeps an appropriate level of caution. I have every wish to trust you, stranger, but my station mandates otherwise."
Robin relaxed slightly in the saddle. Of course he did. She felt rather bad for judging him to be unkind. "I understand, sir. I would do no less myself."
"We're here," Chrom announced suddenly, as they arrived to the sight of soldiers treating their wounded fellows on what was clearly the site of a recent battle.
The soldiers immediately stood at attention when they spied their small group riding towards them. "Milord Chrom!" the commander all but shouted. He hastened to them as Chrom and Frederick immediately dismounted.
"What happened here? Who did this? How many dead?" Chrom demanded.
"Brigands, sir," was the reply. "At least some 40 strong. We tried to fight them off, but some managed to make their way past the border. And...five dead so far."
"Damn them!" Chrom swore.
A young man of presumably lesser rank walked up to them holding his sweaty helmet under his arm. "Sir, Garrett has—"
His words died on his lips as he spied Frederick and Lissa helping Robin to dismount. "Hey, that's—that's one of the two! Sir! One came back!"
"Indeed they have," the commander replied with narrowed eyes. "Milord, might I ask how you came to be in this person's company?"
"We found her by the roadside. Unconscious and injured." Chrom furrowed his brow in confusion. "She seems to be a person of interest, I take it."
"A woman, eh...she is. She came here in the company of that dog over there, and a boy. The bandits were in hot pursuit of the pair, there was a scuffle...they made off with the boy and immediately had no further interest in engaging our forces once they had him. This one," he jerked his scarred head roughly in Robin's direction, "I don't know what kind of tricks she employed to escape, but it's like she struck the bandits with lightning or something...we have a couple of charred bodies out on the other side of the border."
"Lightning? As in magic?"
"Smells more of witchcraft to me, sir," the commander glowered darkly.
"You know Emmeryn disallowed convictions for witchcraft. If lightning spells made someone evil then we'd have to discharge more than a few mages from the crown's service."
"Be that as it may, something about your mysterious rescuee had those men very interested, and they were willing to face us head on and cross the border for her. We need to take her in for questioning so we can get to the bottom of this."
"I concur, milord," Frederick agreed. "Something about the whole situation is amiss."
Chrom glanced back to where Robin was, standing a little ways behind with Lissa. She had heard the entirety of the exchange. And she was now waiting, with bated breath, to hear what his judgement would be. Would he turn her in and leave her, to be the soldiers' burden? Would he stay?
"Alright," Chrom conceded. "But if you can guarantee her medical attention, then please see to that."
She was in Ylisse.
The revelation should have been one of relief. One of triumph. It was a giant step closer to their goal of reaching Regna Ferox and leaving Validar and the Grimleal far, far behind.
Instead, Henry had been abducted by bandits, and Robin was now at the mercy of a garrison full of Ylissean soldiers, all armed to the teeth, and all eyes focused on her as she was being interrogated.
She kept trying to tell herself that the people who brought her here—Chrom, Lissa, and Frederick—most certainly did not do it out of malice. She out of anyone understood the importance of protocol being followed and the need to adhere to standard procedures.
And yet, all Robin could think of was how none of this was supposed to happen. She was supposed to cross safely with Henry and Neferi, and the rest of the journey was supposed to have been like an easy spring breeze compared to the tumult of their travels across Plegia.
What was worse was running into any Ylisseans at all. They had planned the trip to avoid all inhabited settlements, hunting and foraging for supplies on their way to Ferox so they would not attract any unwanted attention. As isolated as the Grimleal base was from the rest of the world, Robin had been fed a steady diet of the supposed evils and blasphemies of the heathens who worshipped the dragoness Naga and gave themselves to lives of hedonistic debauchery and filth. Nevermind the religious aspect of it—the stories she had been told since childhood were more than enough to terrify her: that Ylissean soldiers stole babies from their cribs to cook alive or cut open to drink their blood, that they had poisoned wells during the war; that their priests were trained to steal souls should one make the mistake of looking them in the eye.
As much as she knew those were half-truths at best and outright myths at worst, as hard as Mustafa tried to show her how much the Grimleal had lied to her, those fears still lingered now that she was up close with Ylisseans for the first time in her entire life.
Worse was the utter terror she felt over the possibility of her circumstances and identity being discovered. It was fellow Plegians who had kidnapped her from her bed and tried to kill her all those years ago; and yet, she had no reason to not suspect Ylisseans to react just as badly, if not worse, to the knowledge that she was not just a Plegian, but one who had been raised as a vessel for a god she had been told was diametrically opposed to Naga. That she was the heart of the Grimleal and thus an abomination.
Would she be safer if she told them the truth? If she divulged her secrets and her fears, and begged them to take her in and go after Henry? Chrom and Lissa seemed kind, but she could not be sure of the same of their countrymen. Then again, she could not be sure that they would maintain such an air of altruism should they be privy to the truth.
So she stayed silent, stewing in her dread and playing along with Lissa's sudden diagnosis of amnesia as the thousandfur robe hissed and growled in her ear.
"You understand that we shall be checking the veracity of your statements, stranger? We don't want any lies being told," the grizzled commander said threateningly.
"Sir, I think that's a little too much pressure on someone who's being bandaged as we speak," Chrom protested. Lissa had rubbed a healing salve onto her cuts, as Robin had begrudgingly let her roll up the sleeves of the robe and her trousers to treat her. Though she had raised an eyebrow when Robin had snatched her Marked hand away and out of sight, the blonde seemingly took pity on her and allowed it. The salve was followed up by Robin having to swallow a potion that burned as it went down, and then Lissa using a staff to heal any bruise that she might have missed.
"Just following protocol, milord." The commander never took his eyes off Robin. "If she remembers as little as she says she does, then we can be done with this soon."
Robin swallowed.
"Do you know any of the men who were pursuing you earlier this day?"
"No."
The commander turned to a middle-aged woman who held a curious glass orb in her hand; they evidently kept mages on hand for this purpose. When the glass did not so much as roll in her palm, the woman turned to the commander. "She's telling the truth, sir."
"Hmm."
The glass orb was making Robin nervous. Truth be told, it was still a yet untested form of magic that would not be perfected until several centuries later, and thus its method of determining facts from falsehoods was half-accurate, at best. Even so, the prospect of being found out had Robin's insides tying themselves into fevered knots.
"Did you know the boy that was with you?"
"Henry," Chrom interrupted suddenly. He looked sheepish for his sudden outburst and returned to his state of quiet watchfulness.
"Yes. We...we travelling together."
"For what purpose?"
"...To enter Ylisse."
"Why?"
"I...I think to just cross, sir."
"You think?"
"Commander," Lissa chided softly.
Robin was sweating heavily under the cover of the robe. It did not help that the robe's thoughts were a jumbled, nervous mess that clashed with her own train of thought. She could not keep up this mumbled string of half-truths and evasions without slipping soon from the stress and the lack of nourishment.
The commander mulled over a question, drumming the table top from where he stood across in a jarring, arrhythmic motion that was grating to the ears. "Do you know why you were being chased?"
Robin swallowed. "...No."
The glass orb flashed bright red in the mage's palm, and it was the excuse the commander needed. "Now see here—I've got five soldiers dead, at least some 15 more seriously wounded, and all because you and your friend and that dog of yours got mixed up with those bandits."
"Please, I'm not involved with them at all—"
"Then why are you a target to them? Why did they take that boy? Don't you realise how badly this is looking for you? Strangers coming to us from the Plegian side, running from a horde of barbarians who weren't even interested in engaging my men once they took the boy with them, and you killing others with magic? What are you not telling us?"
"That's enough," Chrom ordered imperiously.
One could have heard a pin drop with how silent the tiny room became, but to her utter mortification, the only sounds were of her own quiet sniffling; she had not even realised she had begun to cry during the interrogation, and now she felt like a fool on top of being a liar.
A pathetic, lying fool who was in a strange land and whose chances of recovering Henry were growing slimmer as time passed.
Chrom kneeled at her feet from where Robin was seated, trying, in vain, to get a glimpse of her full face. Of course, part of the thousandfur robe's enchantments was that it hid her face under a shadowed veil, but even without the use of magicks, it was easy to see how upset she was. Her first experience with Ylisseans was being held in custody, and for them to see her crying as though she were a child.
"I know this must be difficult for you," Chrom said slowly and reassuringly. "And I promise, on my honour as a Shepherd, to help you in any way that I can. But please understand that we also need your help, too. You said that your friend's name is Henry, right? Those men have him. And we need to know all we can so we can get him back safe and sound."
She would not tell them the truth. She could not.
And yet Chrom's words were gentle and persuasive. Like in the field where she was found, Robin felt that at least she could judge him to be trustworthy, even if she was going to lie to him anyways.
But she did not want to be seen as someone unworthy of that same trust.
"Can we know your name, at least? Do you remember that?" He prompted softly.
Robin tried to reign in her shuddering breath. "Yes, I remember. It's...it's my true name."
Lissa and the mage raised their eyebrows. True names were rumoured to be the very essence of a person's nature, and knowledge of them greatly valued in the use of dark magic and sorcery when casting curses and such. Most folk did not commonly go about taking pseudonyms because true names were only of concern to wizards and those who wielded magic. Even then, using true names to curse was said to be extremely difficult to master and was thus not a popular field of sorcery.
"Take all the time you need," Chrom said.
She sniffled from under the relative safety of her hood. "...Robin."
"Ruban? Is that foreign?" Chrom asked.
Lissa groaned and rolled her eyes. "She said 'Robin,' dummy. She's just got a bit of an accent."
"'Robin' is an Ylissean name," the commander murmured suspiciously. He turned to the mage to confirm if it was a lie. She shook her head in negation.
"Please...I'm just a person with no mother and not much else except the clothes on my back," Robin whispered pitifully. The others in the room had to strain their hearing to catch her words. "I just want Henry back."
"And we will get him back for you," Chrom assured. "But every little bit of information helps, and the more we know will help us track him down more effectively."
But Robin, feeling tired, pathetic, and emotionally exhausted, shook her head in denial. "I'm sorry."
"That's ok. You did a good job," Lissa soothed and helped Robin to her feet. "I'll ask to see if they have a spare cot for you so you can lie down, and something to drink."
"Thank you for your cooperation," the mage patted Robin sympathetically on the back. She was led to a smaller side room where she was handed a cup of water and a small roll of bread. Robin drank and ate quickly and automatically, without even registering the taste except to acknowledge that it was the first bit of food and drink she had received in a long time.
Lissa then pushed her down gently onto an offered cot, and left to reunite with her brother, Frederick, and the others.
Though she did not want to, Robin's eyes closed and she slept anyways, flitting in and out of consciousness to the sound of people talking and to memories of Henry's face. She slept fitfully and for a very short time.
"Chrom, look! The town!"
Lissa's shriek woke Robin and she tore herself from the cot, sprinting to the garrison's entrance. Lissa had her hands to her face, and Chrom, Frederick, and the soldiers stood bathed in the hellish orange glow of a town put to torch.
It was not very far away at all.
"Damn it! The town is ablaze! Those blasted brigands, no doubt...Frederick, Lissa! Quickly!" Chrom immediately went to his horse and saddled it as fast as he could, with Frederick doing the same for his own horse and Lissa's.
"What about her?" Frederick questioned with the briefest of glances to Robin.
"Unless she's on fire as well, then it can wait!"
Frederick, already astride his mount, nodded in agreement. "Aptly put, milord."
"Let's go already!" Lissa urged, and spurred her horse into a desperate gallop with Chrom, Frederick, and a detachment of soldiers following close behind until the din of hoofbeats faded off into the distance.
Robin watched them leave. The sight of the flames was fearsome, even from the distance between the town and the border post. It was a surefire sign of the presence of those bandits, and where the bandits were, it was a step closer to Henry. She did not know whether they kept Henry alive per the instructions of the bounty, if he had managed to escape them, or, worst of all, had died.
But it was a chance she had to take if she ever wanted to see him again.
"Can you watch my dog for me?" Robin asked a young trainee who had been staring numbly at the flames.
He jumped, startled at being addressed. "Your—uh? She's safe inside, ma'am—I mean, miss, I mean—yeah, don't worry about her."
"Thank you." And with that taken care of, she ran up to a soldier who had been readying his horse to go and follow the others, pushed him off the saddle, and led the horse onwards to the town.
Ignoring the shouts of the commander, growing fainter as she left, Robin focused on getting to the town as fast as she could. No matter how weak she still felt, no matter how dangerous the encounter would be, she was going to get Henry back or die trying.
The scene was one of utter chaos as the brigands ran amok through Southtown, kicking down doors to drag screaming civilians out, looting whatever they could get their grubby hands on, and revelling in the chaos they created. Chrom had ordered some of the others to dismount a little ways outside of the town to avoid detection; they would come in with him to scout out the scope of damage, and then call in the rest of the mounted reinforcements to storm the place and liberate the townsfolk. As part of the first unit, he was currently hiding behind a wall with Lissa and a few other men.
His thoughts were divided between a hundred different places at once: a skirmish was bad enough, but for it to happen right on the border (what with Plegia having stayed unusually quiet for the past year), and now bandits having entered Ylisse to pillage? The implications had dread weighing him down.
And what of the mystery woman, Robin? She claimed to not remember much, yet she confirmed that it was she who the bandits were after, and that they had taken her friend (Henry, he reminded himself) hostage. She had evidently come to Ylisse from the Plegian side of the border, but with an Ylissean name, as Lissa and the commander had noted, what did that say about her origins? And what of the fact that she had evidently killed some of the barbarians with the use of lightning magic? There was clearly more to Robin than meets the eye...but what?
His inner monologue was interrupted by a soldier pointing to the church's entrance. A man, evidently the raiders' leader from the looks of him, laughed maniacally amidst the wreckage burning around him. A screaming girl's wrist was held tight in one hand and a bottle in the other as he took in the destruction with undisguised glee.
"Get to it, lads! Grab anything shiny, and put the rest to the torch! We gots an example to set for these Ylissean types! Ain't that right, lass?" He leered at the terrified girl.
"S-stay away from me!" she shrieked and clawed fruitlessly at his hand.
"Chrom, we have to stop them!" Lissa grasped her staff tightly as anger burned in her eyes at the sight.
He shared the sentiment. "Don't worry—after today, these bandits won't be bothering anyone ever again." He promised himself, as a Shepherd and as a prince, that those vile men would face justice for daring to raise a hand against Ylisse.
"Your Highness!" Another soldier pointed behind them. To his utter shock, Robin had followed them all the way from the border post despite needing to have stayed behind to rest, still swathed in bandages from the little amount of skin he could see under her robe. Frederick was close behind, but was forced to keep his horse to a canter lest the noise from its hooves alert their enemies to their location.
"Robin, you followed us? Why?" Chrom kept his surprise to a harsh whisper.
"I tried to stop her," Frederick sighed in frustration.
She ignored the knight, keeping what little Chrom could see of her face trained on his own. "I'm armed, and I know my way around a fight, if you'll have me," she said resolutely.
They had apparently picked up an amnesiac warrior, of all things, from the roadside. The day kept getting stranger and stranger, though Chrom was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth at a time like this. "Of course—strength in numbers. Just stay close!"
"Remember, Robin, we face practiced thieves and murderers," Frederick warned. "They will grant us no quarter. It's kill or be killed."
She nodded in understanding. She then crouched down lower along the wall to draw back her robes: a bronze sword was strapped to her side.
"I see you wear a sword," Chrom said, but then he felt very foolish for stating the obvious. "Is it—" her hand burrowed deeper into the recesses of her clothes and pulled out a thick book with brown cover, a golden bolt of lightning shining on its front. "Wait, is that a tome?...You know magic?"
"I believe so," was the amused reply.
The commander's words of how she had killed some rogues with that lightning of hers rang in his head: burnt them to a crisp, if he remembered correctly. "Perhaps I'll just keep a few paces behind you for the time being…"
"I can control it."
Chrom turned his attention back to the men's leader, still manhandling the terrified girl, and the brigands who jeered at some of the townspeople who threw themselves into the canals below the bridges to escape the flames. They had a limited amount of time before Southtown burned to the ground; some homes and businesses were beyond salvageable, but the sturdy stone church looked as though it had been barricaded from the inside, as a few marauders were attempting to break the doors down with little success. Not only that, but they had to rescue the townsfolk as well, some of whom were treading water in the canals, others corralled by the bandits, and the rest presumably dead or still trapped inside the burning buildings.
What to do first?
A young soldier, who was probably on his first assignment and feeling rather gung-ho, tried to make a dash for the town square, only for Robin to grab him by the collar and pull him back harshly.
"Another step from you, and not only would that mage over there have vapourised you instantly, but you trying to play the hero would've alerted them all to our position," Robin scolded.
"Mage? What mage?" the young man demanded.
"Behind that stone barricade on the square."
"Ummm...Chrom…?" Lissa ventured uneasily.
The prince saw the reason for her discomfort, as well as the others of their small company: Robin's eyes, hidden as they were under the darkness of her hood, had begun to glow a fiery, hellish red. She had not even turned to the address the soldier—rather, she kept her face trained to the front at all times.
Chrom's Brand pulsed again.
Just what in else, Naga's name, was this woman packing up her sleeves?
"Still with us Robin?" Chrom asked her cautiously.
She noticed their agitation. "Don't worry. It's just...here on the battlefield, I...well, I can 'see' things."
"See things? Like what?"
"The enemy's strength, their weaponry, the flow of battle…"
"So, you're saying you can size up the enemy at a glance?"
"Yes, it would seem so. And perhaps more, if I apply myself…"
Chrom's breath hitched in his throat. He had heard of people with such abilities: controlling the weather, animal speech, clairvoyance, increased stamina and strength...few and far between as they were, their presence was highly coveted (and feared) by rulers and peasants alike. This went beyond normal magic. A single person was often the deciding factor that could sway the course of a battle for better or worse.
It seemed as though not only had they picked up an amnesiac warrior from the roadside, but an amnesiac warrior who was also somewhat omniscient.
"Look," Chrom glanced around the corner of the wall to make sure that no enemies were close to their hiding place. "Seeing as you're already here, and possess such an ability...we could really use your help. There are civilians trapped here, and we need to find the best way to get them all out before everything burns down. Not only that, but we have to face these brigands sooner or later. Can you do that?"
"Milord—" Frederick started.
"Can we count on you?" Chrom ignored him.
"Like you said: I'm already here," Robin replied.
Chrom exhaled a sigh he had not realised he had been holding and grinned. "Good. We just might find your friend around here, too."
Robin nodded. "Alright everyone," she announced. "Gather round. I can't shout unless anyone wants to be found out."
Frederick, discontented as he was, assisted Lissa in herding the rest of the soldiers around Chrom and Robin in a tight huddle. "Okay," she said. "Here's the plan: out on the square I can count a mage with a wind tome behind that barricade; to his immediate left, a barbarian with a bronze axe; on the bridge leading up to the cathedral are two myrmidons with bronze swords. Their leader is behind them and he wields a hand axe: do not engage him. From what I could see from before, there is a very loose perimeter of axemen around the southern entrance to the town, and some myrmidons to the north."
"But most of us use lances and spears…" a soldier noted with dismay.
"Don't worry. We can plan for that. Have the mounted units stayed in place?"
"Yes," Frederick confirmed. "Most use lances, though they have a few axes and swords in their midst."
"Alright. Then we can safely move a few north to deal with the myrmidons; they have to corral them between them to keep any from escaping to alert the others, you hear?" Robin said.
A soldier stood and nodded. "I'll get the message to them right away."
Robin shook her head in disagreement. "Not by yourself you won't. It's crucial that no one here fights alone, as there's a tactical advantage to fighting side by side: working in pairs or more improves strength, defense, speed…" She stood to scan the small crowd until she found someone satisfactory. "And if you can't go any further, someone else needs to be there to save you or get the message across." She nudged an older man towards him. "Now go."
As soon as the pair left the scene, everyone's eyes returned to Robin. "Now where were we…? Ok. Have a few mounted units deal with the axes, but for every two lances there needs to be a sword. Once they're done with those, have them move towards the town's centre." She sent another pair towards Southtown's southern entry point.
"What about us?" Lissa asked.
"Don't worry, I'm getting to that." Robin ran her eyes over them critically. "There were 40 of them, right?"
"The townspeople managed to kill three," Chrom said.
"Good," was Robin's response. "What some here lack in experience, they make up for in numbers. Alright then...how many healers and mages do you have?"
"...Two of each with the mounted units, and four of each with us right now. The mages have wind tomes." Chrom pointed to the heads of said soldiers, huddled amongst their comrades.
"We need to do this as quickly as possible. Two lances and a mage to take care of their mage; move along the barricade's right side, attack first with magic and then have the lancers move in. Before the barbarian guarding him can come to his aid, I need another mage and a swordsman to move to his left, strike first with magic and then subdue him with the sword. Keep low to the ground before you strike!" She sent the next teams off quickly.
"Two teams of three lancers each to move among the houses: you need to keep your shields up to guard yourselves from the five archers patrolling on the roofs of the bakery and the three consecutive houses next to it. A mage to each to deflect their arrows before the lancers can pull them down." Another team was dispatched.
"Yeah, but what about me?" Lissa was bouncing with pent up energy. "I may not be able to attack like Chrom, but when you get injured? I'll be the one stitching your bones back together, care of my trusty staff! You just tell me where to go, Robin."
"That's excellent, Lissa." Chrom could sense the warmth in Robin's words, and the genuine sentiment made him smile. "And you look pretty nimble too. What I need you to do is to ride with Frederick and go around looking for any survivors. Take them outside of town before you get to treating them. Take three more lancers with you, and have the rest disperse into teams of three to deal with townsfolk or brigands around the east and west."
"Roger that!" Lissa immediately jumped onto the saddle of Frederick's massive destrier. The man himself looked none too pleased, but complied with the instructions and gave Robin a curt nod before riding off with the others.
Soon, it was just Chrom and Robin, alone.
"You have a quick-thinking mind," he praised quietly
Robin shrugged. "I must have studied this somewhere, I guess."
His hand tightened around the Falchion's pommel. "I take it that leaves their leader and the rest of the myrmidons to us, then."
He could feel the anger simmering in her words and her fiery eyes, just as hot as the flames surrounding them. "Of course. But first...we wait."
They stayed hidden and crouched uncomfortably by the wall for what seemed an eternity. Chrom was starting to get restless. Every second wasted meant an increasingly small chance to save the townsfolk from the raiders, and the increasingly weakened structural integrity of Southtown's buildings. The men at the church entrance had given up trying to break down the doors, and were now piling wood and debris around it as fuel for fire.
Though her apparent calm in the face of such injustice was downright baffling, he was very sure that he was right to trust Robin and hand off the strategising to her. He had...a hunch about her.
At least, if the way his Brand reacted to her was anything to go by.
A sudden scream rent the smoky air—the first team, unable to subdue the mage, had killed him.
"Now!" Robin urged him to his feet, and both were sprinting across the town square's cobblestones.
The first team had joined the second to fight the barbarian, and were doing a fine job of keeping away a reinforcement of myrmidons, leaving Chrom and Robin free to get to the bridge connecting the square to the church. Out of the corner of his eye, Chrom saw an archer try to aim at them—a powerful gust of wind blew her arrow off-course, and a lancer clambered up on the roof and threw them both off into the canal below. The roar of battle was everywhere, and soon the blast of a horn from the rapidly approaching cavalry added to the chaos.
He jumped over a fallen rogue's body and sidestepped a live one who was promptly stabbed by Robin. Chrom then pulled her aside and slammed the Falchion's pommel into the face of an incoming axeman who went down with a bloody, broken nose. They left their own mage and swordsman to deal with him.
"Watch out!" Robin jerked him back by his collar, and Chrom narrowly missed a faceful of magic. The furious mage's book was in tatters, yet did little to deter his dizzyingly fast attacking speed. Robin immediately stepped forth to shield Chrom, trying to block most of the blasts with her bronze sword; on the fourth strike, the magic shattered the blade, and he heard her cry out in pain as a shard embedded itself in her skin. Angered, Chrom rushed past her and slew the enemy mage in a single stroke.
"Are you alright?" He pushed them behind the safety of a wall. From behind them a cavalry unit had two young children on her horse and was herding them and their parents away to safety.
Robin spat blood off to a side. "I'm fine...just a little cut…"
"'A little' can become a bigger problem later. It's foolish to leave a wound untreated, not to mention that we found you under less than ideal circumstances." Chrom dug into the small convoy pouch Lissa always insisted he carry and produced a vulnerary from it. "Here."
"Use it on yourself."
Chrom shook his head. "Don't rush into danger. You've lent us your strength, and that makes you a friend. Having an ally by my side gives me courage."
If she wanted to say something else, Robin could not seem to vocalise it. "Thank you," she said in a tiny voice, and gratefully uncorked the vulnerary and downed it in one gulp.
They turned to watch the violence spilling out across Southtown. Despite the glaring type disadvantages, they did have superiority of numbers, and Robin's planning had ensured that the brigands were being pushed out of Southtown at a slow, yet steady, pace. The fires still raged around them, and Chrom had to resign himself to the fact that they would have to be dealt with as soon as they had defeated the bandits.
Robin nudged Chrom and pointed: the brigand's leader was squinting into the distance. As soon as he spotted them, he cursed, spat, and threw the girl off to a fire the swordsmen started at the church had successfully weakened the doors enough to allow for a small hole to be made, and he ducked into it as the myrmidons took positions on the bridge.
"Ready?" She asked Chrom. She steadied the tome in her hands despite their slight shaking.
"On your mark," was Chrom's response.
"Now."
They took off with smoke burning in their lungs and the rush of their blood in their ears. No sooner had they reached bridge were they set upon by the company of myrmidons, eager for their blood; Chrom and Robin dropped simultaneously to the floor to let the enemies' weight and momentum take them down, with some falling off the bridge and into the water. The rest were unlucky enough to be blasted with Robin's lightning and then swatted to the side by the flat of the Falchion's blade.
"Milord!" they heard Frederick galloping up to them. Lissa dismounted immediately to check them over for wounds, and the lancers that came with them set upon tying up the defeated myrmidons. "The south is ours. We have gathered up as many of the townsfolk as we could, and the north is being secured as we speak. The men have started putting out the fires."
"Excellent work, Frederick." Chrom was relieved to see them alive and well, and the news of their impending victory was tremendously satisfying.
"Does this mean it's finally over?" Lissa fretted.
"Not quite," Robin said through gritted teeth. "Their leader's in there, he just might have more hostages with him. And I'm not leaving until I see for myself what happened to Henry."
"Robin, wait!" Lissa cried. Robin ignored her as she ran up the bridge and slipped inside the church.
Chrom's heart dropped. She had proven to be more than a capable fighter—but she said, with her own words, that it was far better to fight alongside others. And he would be damned before letting her run off on her own. A single vulnerary would not be enough to undo the damage he had seen when they found her.
"Your Highness!" He ignored Frederick's shout as he plunged into the smoky church, hot on Robin's trail.
Save for the sound of burning wood, it was eerily quiet inside. Chrom found Robin surveying their surroundings with those glowing eyes of hers. She stopped him with a palm to the chest.
"He's behind there," she pointed to the templon separating the nave from the sanctuary. "He has six people hostage."
"Henry included?"
"Yes. And he's hurt, too."
"I CAN HEAR YOU!" The brigand's voice echoed and bounced all over the sooty walls of the church. Chrom jumped where he stood, and Robin steadied him with a sure hand on his arm.
Holding a finger up to her lips, she motioned for them to split up between the rows of half-ruined pews. "He has a higher vantage point over us. We'll still be able to see each other," she reassured. "But keep low to the ground, and try to keep quiet."
They began crawling amidst the toppled pews and smoking debris. Chrom noticed, with a pang, the lovingly crafted details like the soft blue tassels sewed onto the slightly burnt cushions, and how the jewel-bright stained glass windows still shone despite being shattered by rocks.
"THINK YOU'RE SO CLEVER, SCURRYING AROUND LIKE RATS?" The brigand's mockery grated his ears. "ON SECOND THOUGHT, I THINK YOU LOOK BETTER ON YOUR HANDS AND KNEES LIKE THAT." From across the aisle, Robin shook her head at Chrom, urging him not to give in to such provocations...but there was something hurt in her body language that only made Chrom angrier.
"IT WAS BAD ENOUGH THAT YOU GOT AWAY FROM US, GIRLIE...BUT COMING BACK WITH SHEPHERDS? THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH A CHALLENGE, NO SIR…"
Chrom and Robin were now at the foot of the altar. He could hear faint murmurs and frightened voices from behind the large templon. Slowly, he unsheathed the Falchion from its scabbard and held it at the ready as Robin flipped open her thunder tome. They nodded to each other, positioning themselves each to a door.
"...BUT ALL THE GOLD IN THE WORLD ISN'T ENOUGH TO PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID TO FREDA AND THE OTHERS. SHE DIDN'T DIE JUST SO SOME BRAT COULD RUN OFF AND WHORE HERSELF OUT TO YLISSEAN SCUM!"
With a mighty shove, the doors were broken down and Chrom and Robin found themselves facing an enormous, belligerent bandit who had pressed himself against the wall and forced the bound hostages to sit before him as a shield. Chrom saw Robin's hand curl into a fist at the sight of the man: cocky, swaggering with pride, and holding up a bruised and bloodied white haired boy up by the neck.
Chrom nearly staggered at the pain and white-hot fury that erupted in his Branded shoulder.
"Here, sheepy, sheepy," the brigand cackled. "Come to the slaughter!"
"COWARD!" Chrom roared and surged forth with a swing of his blade. He was forced to stumble back to avoid chopping a weeping grandmother's head off, and Robin could not find an opening fast enough; the man was far too close to the captives.
"You can't use that fancy lightning trick of yours in here," the bandit leered at Robin. "Unless you don't mind striking a spare head off or two? You can pick which one first!"
"Chrom!" Robin pulled him to a side yet again as the rogue threw a red, curved hand axe at his head. When they tried to advance on him, it returned to his hand after destroying a massive chunk of the doorframe and he held it up to Henry's neck threateningly.
"Or maybe his? You never struck me as the altruistic type," the brigand sneered.
"Chrom," Robin whispered. "Try attacking him again."
"Are you insane? I don't want to risk hurting anyone!"
"Haven't you trusted me this far of the way?"
Chrom exhaled sharply. "Yes."
"Then please, please trust me on this too. I...I think I might have a plan."
"...Alright. I trust you." He leaned in closer to hear her plan.
"It's rude to whisper in front of others," the bandit mocked in a sing-song voice. "Care to share with the rest of the class?" His hand squeezed Henry's windpipe, and the young man, barely conscious as he was, managed a groan and his black eye opened the tiniest bit.
Chrom lunged again, and the brigand responded with another throw of his axe. As they still had a few seconds before the axe came flying back, Chrom and Robin took the chance to grab onto some of the hostages, cut their bonds, and throw them in the direction of the doors. "Keep your heads low, and whatever you do, keep running and don't look back!" Chrom shouted.
In the split second that it took the raider to realise what they were doing, the ugly smirk on his face morphed into a snarl of pure rage. "You little bastards!" He tried to grab the remaining pair of hostages with his free hand, but the axe chose to return in that moment, clipping his hand and leaving a deep cut that had him howling in fury. Chrom made a move for the penultimate captive—a young girl—and practically launched her clear to the door before the bandit could reach for her.
Now it was just him, Robin, and the bandit with Henry in his sinewy hand.
"You want 'im?" he said in a dangerously low voice. He set Henry down behind him, then tore a strip of leather from his skirt and wrapped it tightly around his bleeding hand before picking up the axe. "Come and get 'im."
Chrom had no idea what compelled him to do so, but when he moved, it was almost as though he had silently agreed to follow on Robin's mark. They both ducked simultaneously under the axe's path, but their moment of startling synchronisation was broken as Robin, yet again, pushed him out of harm's way—the brigand had hidden a chain weapon under his sooty pelt, and Robin took the brunt of it as the blade at the end of the chain sliced into her chest.
"Robin!" Chrom shouted and pulled her to his side. From what little he could see under her robe, the cut was thankfully not too deep and would not scar terribly. But it pained him to see that in the short amount of time that they had known each other, Robin was constantly taking blows for him.
And they still had to rescue Henry, too.
"I'll be fine," Robin assured with a shallow breath. "We need to focus on the mission."
And you need to start taking better care of yourself, Chrom did not say. They had to quickly sidestep more throws of the axe and swing of the chain, stalling their attempts at getting in a good hit, but at the very least he was no longer hiding behind Henry and other civilians.
Chrom sucked in a breath as the chain-blade narrowly missed his eye and lightly nicked his cheekbone instead. Silver, he noted as it retreated to its owner's hand. Where bandits and thieves got such good quality metal for their weapons, he would have liked to know. Then, in an unexpected flash of clarity, he called out to Robin.
"Do you think you can get a hold of it?" Chrom shouted at her.
"Yes!" she responded, seemingly having understood his unspoken realisation. "But I need you to take care of the axe!"
"Understood!"
"Just try me!" the brigand bellowed and kept up his attacks.
Mercifully, their fighting drew the rogue further away from Henry and closer to them instead in an attempt to press them to a wall and eliminate any protective distance between them. Chrom jabbed the Falchion wildly at the brigand, but was temporarily distracted by Robin having to shield her face with her tome; the book was instantly sliced in half by the chain-blade.
"Chrom, now!"
The prince thrust the blade into the axe's path and successfully knocked it aside, rendering it earthborne once and for all. Raging, and screaming, the bandit began to swing the chain erratically and much more aggressively, causing the duo to have to evade constantly to avoid it as well as over two meters of solid muscle.
"Stay still!" He screeched and threw the chain in a particularly hard swing.
Robin saw her chance and took it. Letting its edge cut into her forearms, she wrapped her hands around the chain and, without the use of a tome, used it as a conduit for a bolt of lightning.
Seeing a man being electrocuted so violently was a truly horrendous sight, and not one that Chrom would ever forget: the skin around the victim's hands began to blister and peel off in bloody strips and burn; the strength of the shock stiffened his muscles and made them spasm uncontrollably; tree shaped scars began to form on the length of his arms, and, unable to fight the muscular rictus that did not allow so much as a scream, the bandit's eyes melted in his sockets before the strength of the bolt flung him clear to the other side of the room.
The flash of light subsided. And then—silence.
Chrom gasped for air when he realised he had been holding his breath. It had taken less than ten seconds for Robin to kill the man. The repulsive scent of burnt flesh permeated the sanctuary, and the sight of the corpse, bloodied, smoking, and slumped against the wall, churned the prince's stomach.
Robin ignored the carnage completely as she ran to Henry's prone body and knelt to take him up in her arms. Holding his head close, she stroked his hair and murmured softly until the boy cracked his eye open with a groan. "Robbie...was it your turn to cook again? Smells awful."
Robin choked back tears as she laughed. No matter how disgusting and inappropriate it was, to laugh in the vicinity of a dead body, the sight of their reunion warmed Chrom's heart.
She turned to face him, still holding Henry tight to her chest. "Well...I guess that's the end of that."
No. Chrom still had far too many questions.
Silver is the best conductor of electricity there is, but its high oxidation rate doesn't make it such an excellent component of wiring compared to more resistant materials like copper. Either way, Garrick the bandit is waaay dead at this point.
Next chapter might see the return of some rather...unsavoury characters. So the people who were screaming about Robin and the blueberry prince meeting for real, their continued contact might have to be pushed back a smidgeon.
Until next time, and thanks for reading!