A few years later…

Who'd ever think that I would end up here? If anyone told me I'd be in this shithole, I would've laughed. I've abandoned all that I have known, life has become a puzzle to me. Really, what do I do now? I had order and structure and now I have nothing. I've taken a few odd jobs along the country side. I've worked for needy farmers, helped out in churches. My god, in churches. Hell, I was a tutor for a few months, and what child would like to listen to me prattle on about politics and history? I would be cultivating the next lunatic despot if that boy paid any attention. If anyone told me this were to be my fate a few years ago, I would have dismissed him as a lunatic.

Aedan sighed and closed his journal. Clad in a ragged black cloak, he kept his head hidden under his hood. Placing his journal in his weather beaten bag, he paused to survey his surroundings. The local tavern was the gathering place of everyone from every social class, though anyone higher than "common street thug" was rare. Everywhere around him, people lounged around with mugs of beer or ale. Some chose to gamble at dice or cards, while others preferred to lounge about with their friends, chatting about the day's comings and goings. Others, the rowdier ones, started flirting with the few women inside.

Aedan sighed again and drank deeply from his mug of ale. With a gulp, he downed the last of the amber liquid. Flicking his wrist lazily, he gestured toward the bartender to refill his mug. Nodding, the bartender grabbed a new mug, turned around toward the massive barrels of beer behind him and filled it up. Then, he sent one of the numerous barmaids over to him.

Aedan scratched at his unshaved stubble as he waited. Aedan wasn't anything exciting to look at. No defining characteristics at all. From what anyone could see, he was tall and lanky with a small animal growing on his cheeks, but by the way everyone in the bar avoided him – besides those serving him the liquefied vomit the tavern called beer—it was as if he had twenty seven heads or something.

Thank the gods people avoid mercenaries.

Aedan sat where he usually sat, in the far corner of the tavern, facing the south wall, with the shorter side of the L-shaped bar counter to his immediate left. It gave him a nice place to brood over things, as well as satisfy his paranoia. With a field of vision over all the entrances to the tavern, he could make sure that nobody super suspicious would be entering the tavern. Mostly though, it just kept him away from people. On occasion, he did accept visitors, an amusing distraction that took his mind off of things. Today was not one of those days.

With a nod, Aedan took the beer from the maid and drank again. He wasn't nearly drunk yet, and he wanted to drown his memories in alcohol. A part of him wondered if he could somehow drink away all the alcohol in Southtown.

Hmm. Probably not, but then again, I do remember the time when the 1st Corps managed to drink all the vodka in Osliton, and Osliton is a very very large city.

A small pang of guilt struck his heart. It had been three years since he had left Oslia and traveled to the continent of Ylisse. He had landed in Regna Ferox, and wandered around the harsh country, taking work when it presented itself. He had made a name for himself, not too much of a name but a name nonetheless, doing mercenary work. The Khans of Regna Ferox were always looking for able fighters to curb the bandit problem and on occasion, find people who would champion their cause for supremacy over one another.

Eventually, Aedan wandered away from the snowy plains of Regna Ferox and into the grassy fields of Ylisse. Frankly, the weather in Ylisse was much nicer, and that was honestly his motivation in wandering into Ylisse. He found work as a farmhand, and helped teach the farmer's little children their letters when the summer farming was over. Eventually farming tired him out and he set off again, wandering around and looking for work.

That was how he found himself in Southtown, trying to stop fucking remembering shit. Because really, the only thing he wanted to do was feed his alcohol addiction.

Gods, why am I thinking about this now?

There was a sudden bang as the door to the tavern burst open. Six men shoved themselves inside, nasty grins on their faces with wicked blades in their hands. The whole tavern went silent as they stared at the men who came inside. Aedan's hand instantly went to the pack he carried beside him, placing his fingers on the hilt of his blade. He would keep it there, on standby. If the men were bandits, he would need to defend himself.

And, lo and behold, they were. Of course they are, what self respecting human being walks into a tavern with his sword out? And how the fuck does this keep happening to me?

"Well, lookie here," the bandit, Aedan thought he was the leader as he looked the dirtiest, said. Then he laughed.

"Gwa ha ha! Get to it lads!" he barked, "grab anything shiny and put the rest to the torch! We've got an example to set for these Ylissean types!" He grabbed a nearby barmaid by the arm and leered at her. "Ain't that right, lass?"

The barmaid struggled against the bandit's grip, screaming. "S-stay away from me! Please, someone! Help!"

Nobody moved an inch, as if they had all been turned to stone. Aedan gripped his sword, but did not draw it from his bag. He didn't want to be involved. The less he did, the better. If he could just leave, he could continue wandering. There was no need to get into further trouble. Trouble, however, just loved to find him.

The bandits walked from person to person, snatching valuables and rounding up the more attractive females into a corner. Aedan frowned as one the bandits approached him. No way in hell was anyone touching his stuff. The bandit held out his hand, demanding Aedan's bag.

That was when the bandit discovered he didn't have a hand anymore.

"AAAAGGHGGHGHHH!"

Aedan's blade was out in a flash. He had whipped it out as fast as he could, striking the man's forearm, and easily cleaving the arm in two. With practiced ease, he stood and leaned into the bandit, stabbing him through the eye. Kicking the corpse off of his blade, he faced the rest of the bandits.

A few seconds passed as everyone tried to understand what had just happened. Then, unsurprisingly, everyone in the tavern broke out into hysterics. The already chaotic mess turned into a hurricane of screaming and running and yelling as people scrambled toward the door. Aedan jumped into the crowd of bodies, using them as a distraction to close the distance between him and the bandits.

The horde of people scrambling to run away collided with the bandits at the door. Flailing limbs and rushing bodies slammed into the five bandits, bowling them over and knocking them to the ground. In the midst of the crowd, Aedan moved quickly, from bandit to bandit, making sure each of them were dead with a quick cut of his blade across their throats.

The only problem was that he counted five dead bandits. One of them, the leader, had escaped. Which meant that he was either running the hell away, which Aedan prayed for, or he was rounding up more of his thugs to gut him.

He rushed out of the tavern, his bag slung over his shoulder and his sword gripped tightly in his hand. He needed to get the fuck out of Southtown as fast as possible. With his bloodied clothing and considering the bloody sword he held in his hand, it was pretty obvious that he killed quite a few people inside the tavern. And considering how all but one of the bandits never left the tavern, it was pretty obvious who died inside.

What he found outside wasn't exactly what he had hoped for.

The town was already in flames. Brick and mortar had melted and smoothed into glass. Fire licked at wood, crackling and crinkling, laughing as if it were a demon of pure destruction. It certainly brought up more than a few memories.

Shit.

And it certainly put a stop to his plans.

Five bandits surrounded the tavern, armed and dangerous. The initial wave of townsfolk was already gone, scattered and fleeing from the bandits, rushing into houses and preparing for the worst. Many had grabbed their belongings and fled. All that meant was that the horde of people that had run out with him had already scattered and disappeared from sight. Which meant that he had no cover. And judging from the menacing grins on the bandit's faces, that wasn't a good thing.

Fuck.

He dropped his stance and watched as the first bandit ran at him, screeching a bloodcurdling battle cry.

Idiot. Running in like that without anyone to help you is going to get you killed. Especially considering I more than likely murdered your friends. I mean, I have fucking blood all over me.

Aedan struck like a snake. Before the ax could even be swung, he was already in motion. His first blow struck low, hamstringing the bandit and causing the bandit to scream in pain. The next came quickly, cleaving the bandit's head in two. Blood spurted into the air like a fountain.

That certainly got the other bandits' attention, and the remaining four charged at him, hoping to avenge their fallen comrade. A collective cry pierced through the cackling of flames as the four of them closed in on Aedan, axes raised high into the sky.

Aedan cursed and shifted to the side, isolating one of the bandits and forcing the others to arrive just a few seconds late. A few seconds, however, were all Aedan needed to kill the first. With a practiced strike, he slit the man's forearm, forcing him to drop the ax uselessly to the ground. A stab to the chest finished the first, and Aedan ripped out his blade to prepare for the second.

The next two arrived immediately after he had finished the first. He parried the first bandit's axe, pushing it away to the side, and ducked under the second, watching as the bandit's momentum carried him past Aedan. He followed up with a vicious kick to the back, sending the second sprawling into the other, and leaving both of them in a heap on the ground. Confusion reigned as the two bandits tried to scramble and push themselves off the ground, but by the time either of them had even managed to reach their feet, Aedan's sword came over and cut their throats.

That just left one more.

He noticed the bandit, but too late. He tried to jerk back, but the axe caught him the shoulder. Biting back a curse, he switched his sword to his other hand, knowing that his injured shoulder was going to make him completely useless on one side, and parried the next blow before deftly struck at the bandit's hand, causing the axe to fly out of the bandit's hand as he jerked his hand back. Spinning, he aimed a slash at the man's head. The sword struck and managed to lodge itself a few inches inside the man's head.

Thank the Gods that father demanded I learn how to fight left handed.

"Hang on!" a sudden voice cried from behind him. Shit! Another?

He turned, wincing as his arm flailed wildly out of its socket. Nearly dropping his sword, he gripped his injured shoulder and tried to stem the steady flow of blood. Whoever yelled was probably going to rip his head off.

Thankfully for him, the one who came by was a small, petite blonde haired girl, no older than eighteen. Her hair was pulled into two long pigtails, making her seem even younger than she actually was. She ran over, frightfully fast considering her choice of attire. She wore a large yellow hoop skirt, bulky and cumbersome. In her hands was a healing staff.

Not that I don't appreciate the staff, but who the hell wears that on a battlefield?

"Hold on okay?" the girl said, as she set the staff to the side. "The axe dislocated your shoulder. I have to set the bones before I can knit the wound back together."

Aedan just nodded, and grit his teeth in preparation. He had had quite a few bones set back into their rightful places, and he knew it hurt like hell. With practiced precision, the girl wrapped her fingers around Aedan's arm and his shoulder and with a heave and a sickening crack! set the bone back into place. Aedan barely managed to muffle a groan of pain as he reflexively clenched his fists.

"Okay, stay still," she said, picking up the staff by her side. A warm light surrounded the staff and she brought the head of the staff to Aedan's injured shoulder. A tingling sensation spread across his body as the magic disseminated into his skin. Aedan glanced down at his shoulder and watched as muscles and blood vessels slowly knit themselves together before finally being covered by skin. The pain he felt from the injury numbed and eventually turned into a dull ache.

Impressive, most healers can't get rid of the scar tissue.

"Thank you," he muttered as he rotated his arm, checking to make sure that it was working as it did before he had an axe stuck in it. It was at that moment, he noticed a bandit approaching, attempting to be as stealthy as possible.

He jumped into action, shoving the girl to the side and moving forward. The first strike came from above, and he ducked, barely avoiding the axe head that could have easily taken his head off. The second struck vertically, and Aedan rolled out of the way, bringing him behind the bandit. As he stood, he swung, and with an easy swing of his sword, he lopped the man's head off.

He turned back to the girl who had healed him. "Stay here, don't move. I don't care if there's someone hurt, you will stay where it's safe. Tend to the wounded after the fighting is over if you don't want to lose your head."

"But-!"

Aedan blew off the rest of the retort. There were things he needed to do that didn't involve protecting a little girl. He needed to get the hell out of Southtown. Where were the other evacuating civilians when he needed them? They could have at least been good cover. He took the northern approach, toward the cathedral near the center of town. If he could make it to the cathedral, it would be a straight line from there to the main exit.

Too bad the cathedral was the exact location of where most of the bandits were.

"Fuck!" he hissed. He slammed himself against the wall in a desperate attempt to make his silhouette smaller and pray that no one saw him.

"Of course they're going to be in the center of town, where all the nice things are. They're fucking bandits, they steal things!" he hissed. He was angry with himself. He knew he was smarter than this, and yet he ran into the middle of town in an effort to get out through the quickest way. Why didn't he just stick to back alley ways and smaller streets where there weren't nearly as many people.

Still scolding himself, he analyzed the situation. The cathedral was located on a small island like patch of land. The only ways to actually get to the cathedral were by four pathways leading to it from the cardinal directions. Near the cathedral were bandits, including what looked like the bloodied appearance of their leader. Along the bridges, more bandits stood by, eager to leave with their spoils.

The fucking town guard sucks. Did they all get killed or something?

The sounds of combat suddenly filled his ears, and he quickly looked around for the source of the commotion. Toward the south bank, bandits circled a group of warriors. There were three of them, one a mounted heavy knight, another wielding a large broadsword, and a third with a spell book in hand.

"Okay," Aedan muttered. He would need to get to the south bank, or at least stay hidden until he could move to the south bank. By the way the battle was going, the group would easily rout the bandits. Their axes were either dodged, parried, or completely blown out of their hands by strikes of lightning. If he could rendezvous with them, he could use the distraction to get away from Southtown. If that didn't work, he could stay hidden, and wait for them to drive the bandits away before he slipped his way through the cracks.

"Hey!" a sudden voice cried from behind Aedan. Startled, Aedan spun and swung his sword violently, aiming to lop off the ambusher's head with one strike. To his surprise, it was the blonde girl that had healed him earlier. Luckily for her, Aedan had assumed it was an average male, and the sword flew over her head, shaving off a few stray hairs.

"Wahh!" she cried, curling up into a ball, her staff raised in a weak attempt to deflect any attacks.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Aedan hissed. "I told you to stay away! It's too dangerous out here for a child!"

"I am not a child!"

"You are a fucking child!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

Aedan wanted to scream. It was in her best interest to get the hell off of the combat area, especially considering she was a little girl with a healing staff, not even a weapon. Maybe, just maybe, if she were armed with something more than an over glorified stick, he might have let her be. It was then that he noticed that another group of bandits had heard their little shitfest and decided that it would be a good idea to investigate just who were acting like tiny children.

That was when he heard the sound of a sharp twang! Aedan bit down a curse and grabbed the blonde and shoved her to the side and into an alley way. With a small yelp, she stumbled and tripped and fell flat on the floor, just in time to avoid an arrow that would have gotten her in the throat.

"See what I mean?" Aedan murmured, before turning his attention to the archer. The archer wasn't that far away, maybe a dozen yards at most. Still, at a dozen yards, a good archer could put another arrow down range, and considering he didn't have anything in the form of cover, he could only pray that the arrow missed.

Aedan sprinted forward, only to find that his way was suddenly blocked by another bandit, this one a lanky swordsman. Suddenly abandoning his wits, Aedan decided that it would be a good idea to shoulder charge the man. He threw himself forward, slamming his shoulder against the swordsman's chest, causing both of them to collapse onto the ground. Now in a better position, Aedan straddled the downed swordsman and then drove his own sword into the man's chest.

Quickly pushing himself off the ground, he stumbled forward a bit before he finally caught his footing and continued his charge towards the archer. He kept as low as he could to the ground, trying to keep his center of mass away from any arrows that might find their way into his body.

Too bad that didn't work.

The archer was a better shot than Aedan had initially predicted, and had adjusted his shot to Aedan's reckless charge. He fired an arrow, straight and true, and watched as the arrow slammed into Aedan's chest.

Aedan groaned in pain as he felt the arrow stab itself into his upper chest. His left arm became limp as waves of pain radiated from his upper chest. He stumbled, and tried to catch himself with his good arm but fell uselessly to the ground. Miraculously, he managed to grip onto his sword as he fell, clenching the damn thing as if it were his life line.

Aedan turned his attention back to the archer and just blankly watched as he notched another arrow and take aim at Aedan's fallen body.

Huh. I really would have expected to have died in a much more climactic way. Preferably with more explosions.

That was when a bolt of lightning struck from nowhere, incinerating the archer and turning him into a pile of charred meat.

That wasn't an explosion.

"Robin!"

"Lissa! There you are!"

Robin? Who the hell names their child after a fucking bird?

From beyond the charred remains of burnt bandit stepped a woman, tome in hand and a wide grin on her face.

Oh. Well. Apparently her parents.

She was tall, probably standing nearly as tall as Aedan did, and he was a giant among men. Silver-white hair reached down below her shoulders, framing a soft, round face. She had a quick smile, one that seemed to pick people up no matter their mood.

In her eyes, however, Aedan saw death and despair. He saw the hollow eyes of a woman who had commanded men and watched them die.

Huh.

Then he suddenly felt hands all over his chest. And then a massive wave of pain. He looked incredulously at the pig tailed girl, who was now chucking a bloodied arrow to the side.

"Fuck!"

"Oh quit whining."

"I just got an arrow pulled out of me!"

"Psh, and they call me delicate."

"An arrow! In the chest!"

"See what I mean? Not a child. I don't whine when someone is clearly helping me," she said with a small grin, as she started cleaning the wound of any dirt. Satisfied that the wound was clean enough, she grabbed her staff and sealed the wound, leaving nothing but raw pink skin behind.

"Lissa, I'm glad you're safe. What happened after we got separated?" Robin asked as she walked up.

"I was ambushed by a few bandits but I managed to escape. That was when I noticed this guy hanging around fighting back, but then he got wounded, so I had to go help him!" she said, still bright and cheery even though the town was still burning and the bandits were still alive. Aedan was confused to say the least. "Speaking of which," she continued, turning her attention to Aedan, "what's your name?"

"Aedan," he grunted, rotating his shoulder and making sure his body was still functioning correctly. He was lucky. If the arrow had been just a few inches upwards or slightly to his right, then he would have been a dead man. Instead, the arrow had just managed to lodge itself a few inches below his collarbone. His chest would feel sore, but at least he wasn't coughing blood. Or dying.

She might be a child, but goddamn, was she a good healer.

"Alright," Robin said, a look of relief evident on her face. "Chrom and Fredrick are mopping up the last of the bandits right now. The rest have already scattered. We're going to meet back up at the cathedral once we're done here."

Chrom? Wasn't that the name of the…Doesn't he have a sister with… then that means… fuck. I think I just called the princess of Ylisse a child.

"Okay," Lissa said, standing up and leaning slightly on her staff. "Let's get going." Then, as if all the exhaustion of healing had suddenly left her, she started to march over toward the cathedral. Robin smiled again, and followed her.

"Come on then," Robin said to Aedan as she started walking after Lissa. "Might as well group up, right?"

"Might as well," Aedan muttered, standing up and following the white haired woman.

By the time they reached the cathedral, Chrom and Fredrick had already killed all the bandits but one.

"C'mon you, Ylissean pigs! I'll fight you here! You'll never take me alive!" the leader of the bandits yelled, waving his sword wildly as he moved toward the two knights. Fredrick, ever the no nonsense warrior, just trotted up on his horse and ended the man with a swift thrust through the neck. The bandit gurgled a few words before he choked on his blood and finally died.

"Well, that's that then," he said, emotionless. He withdrew his lance and wiped the blood from the tip on the side of his horse.

"That's that," Chrom agreed, sheathing his sword and wiping the sweat from his brow. Then, noticing the new arrivals, he turned on his heel and smiled.

"Lissa! Robin! You're safe!"

Then, he noticed Aedan, following a few steps behind.

"And someone else too, I see."

Aedan stopped in front of the blue haired man and, upon connecting the dots, dropped to one knee and dipped his head.

"Prince Chrom," Fuck, I really did just call the princess of Ylisse a child, didn't I? On a different topic, how the hell is his hair naturally blue?

"Ah, so you know who I am?" he said, gesturing for him to pick himself up.

Yes, I did try and spend a lot of time spying on you. Mostly in an attempt to kill you and your sister and take the Fire Emblem, but that's a totally different story. That didn't come out of his mouth, though. It sounded more like "Most everyone in Ylisse knows their ruler, milord."

"Please, don't call me that. I'm human, just like you are. Just Chrom will be fine. What's your name?"

"I am called Aedan."

"Aedan. A strong name. After the legend, I assume?"

How is it that everyone knows this fucking legend except me? "Yes, milord."

Chrom shook his head. "Are you just going to keep calling me that?"

"It is how one addresses royalty, milord."

Chrom just shook his head again, a small smile appearing on his face.

"Very well, if you will continue saying that, I won't stop you."

He turned his attention toward Robin and Lissa, who had been speaking to each other as Chrom addressed Aedan.

"Holy wow Robin! You were incredible! Swords, sorcery, and tactics! Is there anything you can't do?" Lissa exclaimed, walking excitedly around Robin, making one singular circle around her.

"You're certainly no helpless victim, that's for sure," Chrom said. He gave her a look, examining her from head to toe. There was a look in his eyes, as if he were evaluating her performance.

From behind Chrom, Frederick narrowed his eyes as he addressed Robin. "Indeed. Perhaps you might even be capable of an explanation for how you came here?"

"I understand your skepticism, Sir Frederick. And I cannot explain why only some knowledge has returned to me. But please, believe me. I have shared all that I know."

Frederick's eyes remained narrowed. Aedan just looked at the two and shrugged slightly. Robin could have been holding a dark ass childhood for all he knew. He saw the eyes. He knew exactly what war did to a person.

And hell, the fact that all five of them were having a very civil conversation and not crying or staring off into space or vomiting or something was a very big surprise. Aedan couldn't help but wonder how many times they had killed.

"Frederick. She fought to save Ylissean lives. My heart says that's enough," Chrom said softly.

"And your mind? Will you not heed its counsel?"

"Frederick, please. The Shepherds could use someone with her skill. Brigands and unruly neighbors threaten to bloody our soil. Would you have us lose an able tactician? I believe her story, as it is."

Aedan wanted to snort again. If you're going to war, little prince, you'll need a bigger battle than that to determine someone's tactical thinking.

"I would have her in the Shepherds," he said, making up his mind. "If of course, you will have us."

Robin blushed a little, clearly unused to the attention.

"I would be honored."

That was when Chrom turned to Aedan and said something completely and utterly ridiculous.

"And you, Aedan? Would you like to join the Shepards, Aedan?"

Frederick's mouth gaped. "My lord!"

Aedan didn't let the knight finish, as his sentiments were almost the exact same.

"Me? Join the Shepards?" Aedan barked out a harsh laugh. He was surprised to say the least, and all formality immediately disappeared. This was definitely not what he was expecting. It was almost hilarious to him. After all, he did spend time trying to kill the man, not trying to get all "buddy buddy" with him. "I don't think I'm quite the person you're looking for. Not one of your fancy knights."

Chrom shrugged. "So? You don't need to be a knight to join the Shepards. Most Shepherds are just civilians wishing to defend their country. Anyone who protects the citizens of Ylisse is a friend of mine. And the Shepards always are in need of a good sword hand."

Aedan laughed again. Protecting the citizens of Ylisse was not what he was doing. He was only trying to save his own skin, and that just happened to involve murdering a few bandits. The initial shock of the prince asking him to join his own merry band of militiamen wore off, however, and rational thought took over. He wasn't in Southtown because the ale was good (it was actually piss poor), he was in Southtown because he was sick of farming and he wanted to do something that didn't involve picking carrots out of the damn ground for weeks. He did need to find a decent paying job, and working for the crown prince was bound to give him a reliable source of income. And besides, he was definitely above average at stabbing people.

That didn't mean he wasn't suspicious or anything. What person would go and find untested people to go join a, more or less, elite militia unit? Aedan wouldn't have accepted anyone into his own battalion unless they had experience and were proven.

"Just like that?" Aedan asked. "No strings attached?"

"Yeah. Like I said, the Shepards always need good talent. From the way you protected those villagers, I know your heart is in the right place."

Aedan repressed the temptation to snort.

"You're not paranoid that I'm some sort of spy or something?"

Sure, Aedan was just a random passerby, but there were a few tales of nobility in Oslia being killed by someone they brought in who just happened to turn out to be an assassin. How any of the plans actually worked was beyond him, though. That kind of supernatural chance didn't happen. Not for him anyway.

"No. Not at all."

Wow, I really should have taken over Ylisse earlier. This guy is way too trusting.

"Alright. Well. In that case, I am a mercenary."

"And you will be paid."

"There's usually some more negotiation."

"I'm the prince of Ylisse. Unless you make an absolutely ridiculous request, I can pretty much afford to pay for your services."

Aedan paused. That certainly wasn't a response he was anticipating. He was already ready to negotiate. "Alright, fair enough."

He paused again. Really, there wasn't anything stopping him from saying no. He wanted to get out of Southtown. He wanted to be paid. And… well, there really wasn't anything else. It was a good way to alleviate boredom and he was, well quite frankly, good at killing people.

But at the same time, he didn't want to join the fucking prince of Ylisse. He didn't want the attention. He had been paranoid for the longest time. If he joined the Shepherds, would word get out? If it spread to Oslia, would whatever puppet ruler decide that he was a threat and send assassins?

And war was on the horizon. All those years ago, he wanted to stop fighting and live a simpler life. At least get a taste of being a farmer or a shopkeeper or something. If he liked the life he would have abandoned all thoughts on revenge and kept living that life. Now, here he was, caught because of his horrible indecision. On one hand, he could try to keep living that simple life, wandering and teaching and farming and on occasion being a mercenary, or he could ally himself with Chrom's Shepherds and wander around the countryside purging bandits and the familiarity and fucking comfort of being back on a battlefield.

Why is life so fucking hard?

"All right," Aedan said after what felt like the longest time, "I'll join your little group of shepherds. It's better than wasting away in Southtown, and besides, I do need some paying work."

Chrom smiled.

"Welcome to the Shepherds, Aedan."

I'm convinced I can't spell. The word "Shepherd" has been misspelled like seventy five times throughout the course of this chapter. That being said, I think I need someone to actually proofread and edit these things.

Anyway, Aedan meets Chrom! Violence! Blood! Yeah! I don't really like the action part of this chapter, but the whole purpose of being short and choppy was to make it seem as if Aedan is murdering these guys with little to no difficulty. Okay, he gets hit once and basically gets his shoulder snapped in half, but HE KILLED LIKE SEVEN DUDES AT ONE TIME! This ain't no Fire Emblem, where you find the Risen once you get OP and put two people together and just start farming the shit out of supports!

Ahem. That is all.

I'm going back to using Lagrange Multiplers to find the maximum dimensions of Satan's shit if the total surface area is like 64 meters squared.

Read! Review! Have fun!