Ike was getting to be slightly annoyed by the fact that his knights were soaking up all his team's experience. After hacking his sixth opponent that round into oblivion, he turned and looked over his shoulder. "Gatrie, Brom… you've done so well this turn. Take a rest!" He called.
"Thanks, Ike!" Gatrie yelled back, leaning on his spear. He grinned at the other knight, oblivious to the fact that all of the other soldiers on Ike's elite force were sighing with relief as they began to attack the enemy without having to try to slide around the armored units and risk cutting themselves on the ridiculously abrupt-edged armor. "He's shaping up rather well… with some good tutelage. Why, I remember watching Commander Greil give that boy his first sword lesson!"
"Really?" Brom said with some interest. "I thought you were much younger than that!"
"What do you mean?" Gatrie was a little taken aback. "I'm one fine hunk of knightly might!"
"That wasn't to disparage on you!" Brom answered hastily. "You're much more of a better fighter than me! It's just that when General Ike first rescued me from prison, he already was such a mature swordsman, that I can't imagine him in training."
"Really? Busting you out of jail, you say? Sly old man, you had me fooled! I would never have taken you for a hardened criminal. You seem like too much of a, well, farmer-type." Gatrie was intrigued. He'd spent his fair share of time in jail over a few too many misunderstandings- most recently, revolving around the buying of the ultimate shield, aka the castle gate. Brom didn't resemble any of the men he had shared cells with.
"No, no! I was a member of the militia, and the Daein Army captured some of us. We were all going to be tortured hideously and executed, and there were only a few of us left when General Ike rescued us. Oooh, the thought of having my fingernails pulled out still makes me dizzy!"
"Steady, man!" Gatrie said, honestly alarmed by Brom's theatrics. "You don't want to look weak before the women folk." He struck a heroic pose, and grinned dazzlingly at Astrid, who happened to be looking his way. She giggled and turned back to the combat, shooting an enemy clean through the eye. Gatrie's smile wavered a bit. Beautiful women were supposed to need his protection, not intimidate him by making him wonder how much it would hurt if they were to do that to him.
"You really are a kind and fine looking man." Brom said musingly. Gatrie's eyes went wide and he dropped the pose to stagger backward a step or two apprehensively.
"Umm, excuse me, but is this like the joke Shinon once played on me?" He asked, ready to bolt. Brom looked completely bewildered- which, when Gatrie had time to think about it, was his normal expression.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. I was just thinking that you would be a fine son-in-law." Brom answered, his forehead wrinkled.
"Wait, what?" Gatrie blinked, then his own face smoothed as he relaxed. He then looked puzzled again.
"Well, I have eight children, and some of those three girls are needing husbands. You're a good man, and the sort that they should take right to!"
"Really?" Gatrie was imagining some soft, pretty little thing in a gingham dress holding an apple pie- before she led him off to the proverbial haystack. He began to grin. "Well, I always did have a soft spot for pretty ladies…"
"Well, that's jus' wonderful news!" Brom was obviously delighted. "After this here war is over, why don't you just come along back to the village and meet your future wife?"
'Why wait that long?" Gatrie asked enthusiastically. "I mean, we are saving all of Crimea, so we'll probably march right through your hometown at some point. I could just come along home with you for dinner."
"Wonderful!" Brom agreed, and with a newfound relationship, the two men waded back into the battle, to the disgust of the other Greil Mercenaries.
*&*
"SHINON!" Gatrie's bellow could probably be heard in Goldoa. Shinon rolled his eyes and stowed his wineskin back under his cot, opening the tent flap to see what his excitable friend wanted this time.
"It's finally happened!" Gatrie was almost chortling with glee. "Tomorrow is the day I meet my wife to be!"
Shinon looked down to hide his smirk. "Contrary to what you might think, village peasant women are just as susceptible to social disease as city whores."
He was extraordinarily surprised when a ham-like fist crashed into his nose. He staggered backward and hit the floor, looking up at his angry, well-muscled friend in full plate armor. For once, Shinon was completely without words, as he could only stammer, "Wait, what?"
"How dare you insult my wife to be? She is no common whore!"
"Gatrie," Shinon stood up, rubbing his swollen face. "We've been over this scenario before. In each town, you're convinced you're going to meet the love of your life, so you sample as many of the local women as you can looking for her."
"This is different. Her father is going to properly introduce us, and then we can have Rhys marry us, and I will spend tomorrow night in the arms of my newly found beloved."
Shinon decided the wisest course was to remain silent and stick his face in his wash basin to chill the pain.
"Her name is Meg," Gatrie announced proudly.
Shinon snorted, creating a few bubbles. He wondered how Gatrie already knew the name of his fantasy.
"I'm going to have dinner with her and my new father-in-law-to-be. And then, Brom will call for Rhys and this will all be settled. "
Shinon spluttered and came up for air. He looked incredulously at his friend. "Ah, Gatrie, you're marrying Brom's daughter?"
"Yes!" Gatrie was almost gushing. "Have you met her?"
This will not end well, Shinon mused, as he answered, "Well, no. But this is Brom's daughter we're talking about. She'll probably resemble her father to a greater or lesser degree. Zihark didn't seem all that enamored while he was her fiancé."
"ZIHARK?" Gatrie roared. "Zihark and my lovely Meg?"
"No. Definitely not. Not even a chaste little kiss." Shinon informed him, sarcasm tingeing his voice. "She came to the camp once with a message for her father. Zihark left the tent, since he was in there repairing one of Brom's armor straps, and told me that while he had been opposed to getting married before, he was definitely opposed to the match now. Something about her just turned him off."
"Probably the fact that he's a furry." Gatrie said darkly, before he brightened again. "Ahhhh, she must have such smooth, pretty skin for him to not like her."
The tent flap pushed slightly open. "Did someone call for me?" Zihark asked, leaning in slightly, though not far enough to intrude.
"We were just discussing my future bride, and Shinon tells me you've met her. Brom's daughter, Meg?"
Zihark shuddered. "Good luck with that one," He said and left. Gatrie jumped to his feet, once more enraged, only to feel Shinon's hand on his arm restraining him.
"Isn't one broken nose a night enough for you? I mean, you can't really defend her honor yet if she's not even here." He was beginning to think longingly of the wineskin under his cot again.
Reluctantly, Gatrie sat back down, muttering darkly again. Shinon briefly toyed with the idea of trying to talk Gatrie out of this mad quest, but his nose gave a particularly painful throb. It's not like he's very amenable to suggestion anyway, Shinon thought virtuously. Besides, he will learn and grow from his mistakes if he's able to make them.
"To your happiness, Gatrie. May you have the sense to not run face-first into disaster." Shinon toasted him, pulling out his second wineskin with the slightly inferior wine. Gatrie took a swig and choked.
"Where's the good stuff?" He whined. Shinon smiled, and replied honestly,
"I will anoint you with the good stuff on the day that you are happily married."
And may it be a while longer in coming. Please, please gain some sense, my slightly idiotic friend.
*&*
Gatrie was fidgeting so badly that his armor was beginning to chafe in some very uncomfortable places. He contented himself with the thought that in the evening, he would have soft, lovely hands to help him soothe those particular sores with balm. Brom was ambling up the path with a slow, steady gait, stopping every few yards to check on some plant, or to look over that small herd of cows, or to shield his eyes as he tried to see if the boys had repaired that wagon axle yet. Gatrie wanted to scream with impatience, or at the very least run down the path to the door where his beautiful wife waited.
"Father!" The scream would have worked beautifully if harnessed into a Sonic Sword. Gatrie winced, then saw what was running toward them and winced again. The fattest, roundest faced dumpling of a girl that he had ever seen was tackling Brom in an enormous hug.
"Meg!" Brom cried joyfully. Gatrie nearly collapsed on the spot, his chest heaving with shock. All his dreams! His face crumpled in despair, making him very closely resemble his proposed fiancé. He looked at those enormous, work-calloused hands and choked. She might break him in half accidentally if she tried to massage him with those!
"Come and meet your new fiancé," Brom said, and turned to where his friend had been a moment before. The only thing that was to be seen was a set of footprints in the dirt leading back towards where the mercenaries were encamped- paced at the distance one would expect of a man running full tilt without any armor encumbrance at all. Brom looked in some perplexity, then turned to be led inside, telling his daughter, "He must have been called back by the general. Now how about that apple pie?"
*&*
"SHINON!" Gatrie bellowed, his panic audible to half the camp. Shinon emerged out of his tent, a sardonic comment already forming on his lips. Bastian came out of his own tent, glaring at the wild-eyed knight.
"Ware thee, knave, or I shalt have to make use of my thousand arcane secrets to silence thee!" Bastian was thoroughly annoyed by the constant crude roar of background noise that was an army camp.
"Bastian! Oh, thank the Goddess! I need your help!" Gatrie was literally clutching at the front of Bastian's robes. The sage drew back, smoothing the wrinkles with an indignant expression.
"And what manner of event could thus cause such a ruckus?" He asked, looking rather like a haughty cat.
"Please! I need to get rid of a fiancé!" Gatrie gasped out. Shinon looked smug and disappeared back into his tent, crawling out the back knife slit as he decided to go see if Rhys could do something about Mending his nose. Bastian looked confused.
"And hast thou already given thy troth?"
"Yes, yes, I'm to marry her in an hour!"
"And thou findest her… unsuited?"
"She's like Brom! With udders!" Gatrie was nearly sobbing.
"Surely thou dost not mean to break thy word on account of the lass's lack of comeliness?" Bastian asked reprovingly.
"I didn't know. I'd never met her!" Gatrie wailed. His mind working quickly, he added, "Besides, she's much younger than I am. It would be just wrong. And she is a peasant, while I am a knight."
"A peasant tricked thee into a marriage below thy station to an uncomely child? Gatrie, thou art an addle-pated fool!" Bastian scolded him.
"Please, you've got to help me!"
"There is only one way for a man of high birth to shun an unsuitable marriage, and that is to declare that she is too close of a member of thy kin to wed."
"But… but I'm not related to Brom. At all." Gatrie looked as if he were going to expire at any moment. Bastian sighed.
"Gatrie. There are several estates now open in Crimea." He dropped the high language and spoke plainly, clearly annoyed beyond his measure to keep his composure. "All we have to do is draw up a fake genealogy that shows that he's somehow related to the deceased estate owner, but that you're closer to inheriting it than he is. That way, you have enough of a landed title to be able to finally woo Astrid and get rid of this false marriage in one fell swoop."
Gatrie thought for a moment. It was a long moment. "…Brilliant!" He exclaimed. Bastian resisted the urge to slap his hand to his forehead.
"And is it not fortuitous that thee called me away from my ponderings of the intricacies of the nature of the universe itself to heed thy relatively small romantic issues? I wilt have thy genealogy by nighttide. Take thee away and let me work." Bastian sighed and returned to the tent. Gatrie rushed to invite Astrid to visit his estate- "been in the family for generations, you know".
Astrid was thrilled. And charmed by Gatrie's revelation of his modesty. After all, he had waited until Crimea was safe to woo her.
There was a wedding celebration that night after all.
A/N: Just because I reference other chapters does not mean that any of this is in any sort of chronological order, or even interrelated. Thanks for keeping with me! Please continue to R&R!