Lucky Horseshoes
I do not own Fire Emblem or any of its characters.
Chapter Three, in which Norne acquires a new pair of boots
"Now, that's more like it."
Stealing from thieves- especially dead ones- was one of the more dark amusements of army life. Profitable, too, as thieves usually had all manner of useful things on them; if you didn't mind getting your hands a little dirty shaking down a corpse, the findings were usually worth it.
Right now, Norne wanted a new pair of boots and hadn't seen much luck in acquiring any, but this particular ex-thief was a slim youngster just short of manhood, and his feet weren't overly large. His soft leather boots looked like they'd fit well on Norne's own feet. Two good tugs and the prize was hers.
"I'd give you my old ones for a fair exchange," she said, "But I doubt you'd get much use of them."
Besides, it might come to a point where even useless worn-out boots were better than none.
As Norne continued her "cleanup" of her corner of the battlefield, she came to a corpse that wasn't particularly gruesome, but the sight of it dismayed her all the same.
"Now, isn't that a shame."
It was one of the young knights of the Seventh Platoon, the one who wore green armor like he was trying to be another Black Panther. His breastplate and shoulder were all smeared with blood, but he was lying on his back, calm and relaxed like he'd fallen asleep.
"Rody, was it? I heard you were shaping up nicely. Ryan won't be happy to learn about you, either."
Young Ryan had looked up to the others in his platoon, wanting to emulate their bravery, and Rody had made an impression on him. Well, if Ryan hadn't learned the lesson yet that "brave" often equaled "dead," he'd learn it now.
Comrades were comrades, but loot was loot, and Norne went down beside the youngster not to pray, but to see if Sir Rody had anything good or useful on his person when he fell. Cavaliers usually rated something a bit better than archers in terms of kit and supplies. She hadn't gone far in taking off his armor when she realized he wasn't as dead as he'd looked.
"Hey, you're still breathing. Wake up, now."
Rody woke easily enough; he seemed groggy, but despite all the blood it seemed most of the damage had been to his right arm, which dangled limp at his side when Rody sat up.
"I could no longer fight," he explained, "and I was too far off to signal for help, so I thought I'd just find a quiet place to lay down and meet with my fate."
"Well, in that case, I'm it." Young Rody's attitude impressed her, though. It took some nerve to deal with oncoming death without screaming, and Norne had met many a fine-looking man who hadn't been able to manage it. "If that was a fatal wound, you'd have blood gushing out your mouth and nose and everywhere else with every breath, so I think you'll make it until we get back to the healers."
She helped Rody to his feet and they began picking their way toward the victory banners that fluttered off on the horizon.
To Be Continued...
