A Battle rages for the Right of what will become
Well…at least we're finally here. No more turning into an icicle!
They were guided by the battle fanatic woman to the capitol of Regna Ferox. Vincent had been told the name, but he already forgot, too busy checking out the cool, barbarian themed décor. Antlers make everything look cool!
You honestly can't expect an amnesiac to remember something, can you?
They were brought to the throne room, where the exceptionally large throne sat on a slightly elevated platform. It was decorated with the usual crap you found in a throne room in addition to many weapons. Swords, axes, lances, you name it, it was probably in there somewhere.
"I shall summon the Khan to you, milord," the crazy warrior lady said and left.
I wonder who this khan will be…probably this huge man with muscles bigger than the Vaike's. He'll come in with a huge sword covered in blood-
Vincent's insane inner monologue was cut off at the voice of the crazy lady from before.
"Presenting East-Khan Flavia!" The crazy lady said proudly with her head held high.
Vincent turned to the khan but then did a double take. This khan was not what he expected; she marched in with a warrior's stride with a sword at her belt.
Not what I was expecting.
Beside Vincent, Chrom stood there with his mouth agape, not being able top form a single word or even begin to form a sentence!
Nor was Chrom it seems. Score! I'm not the only screwed over one at the moment!
"You are the…er, I mean, you're the khan?" Chrom said after making sure he closed his mouth to keep bugs from flying in. However, his surprise was still evident.
"One of them yes, I am the East Khan. I apologize for the trouble at the border, Prince Chrom. Welcome to Regna Ferox," the warrior khan said with a heavy Feroxi accent, which made them sound like they were always growling.
No shit she has an accent Vincent! She rules the damn country!
"I know why you have come, Chrom, you need troops. And I cannot supply them," Flavia answered Chrom's request, even though he hadn't of asked anything yet, calmly.
"What? Why not?" Lissa cried, clearly not happy.
Whoops, didn't notice her.
"I lack the authority," she said simply.
"But…you're the khan," Chrom retorted lamely.
"As I said, one of the khans." She said with emphasis. "The two khans hold a tournament every few years for the right to make alliances, declare wars and all of that related stuff. The West-Khan won the last one…" she trailed off, obviously bitter about the whole subject.
"So we are to receive no aid?" Chrom said despairingly, already thinking about having to march back home with the bad news.
"Don't despair, the next tournament is within a few days. And I need champions to fight for me. The guard you fought told me of your Shepherd's battle prowess Chrom." Flavia said with a glint in her eyes. She wanted something and wanted Chrom to figure it out.
"I would assume Ylisseans have no place in Feroxi events such as this khan Flavia," Chrom said thoughtfully.
"Ha! The khans themselves do not fight. It would lead to too many dead khans. We have always picked foreigners represent us in the past. Though this is the first time we will have royalty in the tournament!" Flavia said cheerfully.
Chrom stood straight dutifully, "We shall emerge victorious for the good of Ylisse. Give me my sword and show me where this shall take place and I will assure a win."
Ain't you a little arrogant.
"So let me get this straight, there are places where people kill each other for fun and for other's enjoyment? This sounds too good to be true, sign me up!" Vincent said ecstatically, waving his arms quickly.
A few days had passed and they stood outside the massive Feroxian arena ready to do battle with the West-Khan's troops. Though, why this is called a tournament when it's only one fight long, Vincent will never know.
They were surrounded by soon to be spectators and merchants maneuvering themselves in the crowd selling their wares. Vincent glimpsed a red headed female merchant in the crowd who was doing better than the rest. He swore she winked at him, but wasn't sure if it was his imagination.
She looks fun to talk to…Aw hell! It's time to fight! I'll be on the lookout for that pretty merchant in red!
They marched into the stadium. Or coliseum. Or arena. Or whatever the writer wants to call it.
The crowd was screaming, rearing for a battle. This must have been an event to be looked forward to for a long time. Vincent strained his eyes to see the competition, what with the burly fighters, devious looking mages and strong looking myrmidons.
Well, well, well, look what creepy creep walked in.
Marth stood opposite them on the other side with a group of soldiers around him, looking like the calm in a storm.
Vincent turned to the rest of the Shepherds, "Alright, let's do this! There is no cover here, or terrain, or defenses. A tactician's nightmare. So all I can do is say advice, watch out for each other, pick one opponent and stick with them until they're dead. Chrom, you take Marth. I'll take the mage. Everyone else, have fun!"
And so we go.
A gong rang, signaling the match to begin. The west team ran forward, blades and tomes brandished. The Shepherds all took defensive stances, ready for a fight.
Vincent concentrated on one of the mages who was hanging back. Vincent dove out of the way of the charging west team and dashed into range of the mage.
The mage was preparing a spell in the time Vincent did that. A large fireball was launched at Vincent. Vincent saw it just in time and threw up a wall of flame he'd been practicing. It functioned as a shield. Damn good one.
Let's fight fire with fire then bastard!
Vincent extended his hand to the enemy mage and launched a stream of fire at him. The mage replied likewise. Both streams of flame met with a heated clash.
Punny.
Vincent and the other mage held the spell while the conflict raged around them. They paid no mind to the clash of metal on metal. They were locked in a wizard's duel.
Vincent used one hand to hold his continuous blast of flame while his opponent used both hands. Vincent could barely breathe with the heat burning up all the air around him.
I can cast a spell with my free hand, but I can't get the air for a long incantation. I'm grasping for air as it is.
Yes, but there is one alternative.
Ah, yes myself, do tell.
You could try saying the incantation in your mind. You haven't a clue about magic, it could work.
But could it work? Vincent had no idea if there were consequences to a nonverbal incantation.
Ah hell, fuck the consequences.
Vincent began to think the incantation in his mind as clear as he could while holding his stream of flame. It was time to end this contest of endurance.
To his astonishment, as he finished the incantation, a ball of flame came to be in his free hand. But he felt a sap on his strength. A greater one than usual. But Vincent gritted his teeth and flung the ball of flame at the mage.
Whatever that mage had planned, it didn't seem to be this. He hurriedly put up a shield to block Vincent's attack. But he used both hands to conjure the defense, and Vincent's stream of fire hit the mage in the chest.
The mages screams slowly died out as he burnt to death. Was there rules against killing in the tournament? If there were, then shouldn't they be doing something? If not, what kind of country is this!?
Arenas aren't as fun as previously thought. Well, I shoulda stayed behind with that merchant.
Vincent looked around him, the battle was still raging.
I need to work on my stamina.
Vincent stood up from where he had crouched down in exhaustion. He searched for an opponent. Stahl seemed to be having trouble with a tricky looking myrmidon.
Target found.
Vincent began to run slowly, picking up the pace gradually. The cavalier Stahl was fighting was quickly getting tired. He wouldn't be able to dodge quickly enough.
Perfect.
Vincent, who was running quite fast now, conjured a fireball in his hand. He jumped and tackled the man who was about to charge at Stahl. He pinned the man to the ground and bathed him with flames.
Stahl, between breaths, said, "That…was impressive."
"I try…though you're the one to replace me. I couldn't light a candle…" Vincent said, just over the screams of the crowd. Stahl nodded and rode off.
Gods, why did I do something that stupid.
'Cause you are an idiot.
I think it was for fun.
Woah! A third voice! This is complicated…
Indeed it is, voice number one.
Who is voice one! There are two of us here! Three voices of Vincent!
Well, I prefer to think I'm a beautiful wom-
Enough! Enough voicing!
Vincent opened his eyes as he stood up slowly, only Chrom was still fighting Marth.
Vincent began to walk over to the other Shepherds, ready to regroup and check if everyone was ok. He then tripped over a corpse.
Not my day.
Tell me about it, darling.
"An excellent match! I shall indeed provide Ylisse with Feroxi soldiers!" Flavia rejoiced after witnessing Chrom strike down Marth. To say she was happy was an understatement.
"We are in your debt East-Khan," Chrom replied thankfully.
"Tonight is a night of celebration! Come! Let us feast!" Flavia cried as she left, not being able to stop a slight skip in her step.
A large man entered the scene and sighed, "Give Flavia an excuse and she'll party 'til dawn." He remarked bitterly.
"Sorry, have we met?" Chrom questioned, slightly shirking away from the huge brute.
"I'm Basilio, the West-Khan you so rudely removed from power!" he said annoyed.
"And what do we owe the pleasure of your presence, oh mighty khan?" Vincent said, fighting away a grin.
The big man sighed, "I came here to give you a present, Lon'qu!"
At the sound of his name being called, a tall Feroxian swordsman, a myrmidon, walked forward. He was silent and looked like he'd be the type of person who was waiting for you to fall asleep so he could murder you in the night.
"This is my former champion, Lon'qu. I figured you could make use of him in the army you're gathering," Basilio rumbled, trying to sound like he was anooyed, but the ghost of a smile creeped up on his face.
The myrmidon said nothing, but nodded his consent.
He certainly doesn't say much, hang on a second, did he just say 'back woman!' to Lissa?
"He's certainly not one for the ladies!" Basilio gave a hearty laugh at Lon'qu's distress.
Oh, he'll be fun to joke.
"Lon'qu, no objections?" Chrom asked, eager to see if he could get a read on this guy.
"You give orders, I stab people. Plain and simple."
I like him already.
Chrom, Lissa and Frederick went to meet with the Exalt. It had been several days since the battle at the arena. Vincent had chosen to sit back from a meeting with the Exalt.
He sat in the Shepherd's Garrison. Alone. All the other Shepherds were out doing something or other, Vincent really didn't care.
"Who're you?" a voice asked.
Vincent jumped up from his sitting position. He wildly turned around looking for who said that. Then he looked downward slightly, a kid, or a small man stood before him.
"I'm Vincent…and you?" Vincent said, flustered.
"I'm Ricken, one of the mages of the Shepherds. Are you the new Shepherd I heard Chrom talking about?" He asked excitedly, glad to meet another magic user.
"Probably, it seems like Chrom to do that. So what're you doing here kid?" Vincent asked, regaining his composure.
At Vincent's words, Ricken's face soured as he shouted at him, "I am not a kid!" Ricken said furiously.
"You're shorter than me, look younger and don't have long hair. Looks like you're a kid to me." Vincent said bluntly, enjoying making this kid angry.
"I-" Ricken was cut off by Chrom entering the garrison.
"Vincent, we're leaving within the hour," Chrom told Vincent.
"I'm packed and ready to go at a moment's notice, captain!" Ricken said hopefully, as if he knew what was coming.
"You're too young Ricken, I would rather have you stay here and protect the garrison with your magic," Chrom said carefully, turning to Vincent. "Vincent, I'll expect you in the courtyard in ten minutes." Chrom departed without another word.
"So kid…what do you ricken, I mean, reckon?"
Cha cha!
"What do you mean?" he said dejectedly, accepting his fate already.
"About Chrom's orders," Vincent eyed the kid, hoping he would get the hint.
"I…I can't do anything about them, he's the captain. His word is law," Ricken moaned.
"Let me leave you with these few pieces of advice then. One, laws are meant to be broken. Two, risks are risky, and risky equals fun. Three, how will you prove yourself if you merely guard a garrison all day?" Vincent began to walk away with a small smile.
Ricken stood still for a moment, thinking. Then a maniacal glint appeared in his eye.