In the Wind and the Light
Chapter Four - Respite in Grust!
Merric sat at a desk in the Grustian library, tapping his fingers dully as he mulled half-heartedly over a book. Marth and the other members of the leadership had been busy the last few days preparing for the assault on Macedon, leaving the mage rather bored. Linde and Chris, as well as most of his other acquaintances had also been occupied, which left few of his friends around to relieve him of his boredom.
At least there were places like this to somewhat fix his problem, though what he was discovering through his research was disconcerting at best. A door creaked open behind him, though Merric paid in no mind.
That changed however, as Chris sat himself down on the wind mage's desk, falling backwards onto the books Merric had placed out. Though he was quite used to disruptions like this, Merric still groaned in protest. "What is it you want, Chris?" Merric said with a sigh.
"I just wanted something to get my mind off of things. We are about to attack my homeland, after all." Came Chris' reply, letting out a sigh himself.
"Will you get off my books, please?"
Chris reluctantly complied, rolling off the desk and landing on his feet with a practiced elegance. "What are you reading?" The tactician asked eagerly, his previous solemn mood already completely disappearing, as he rested his elbows on the edge of the desk.
"Just some books on various theories concerning different things. Mostly magic." The mage said, trying to put the disheveled books back into place. As he was reaching for the last one, Chris snached it up from under him.
"Einherjar? What on earth is that?" Chris asked, letting the book drop back onto the desk just as Merric tried to snatch it from him.
Merric ran a hand through his hair, an action that was quickly becoming a nervous habit. "It's a rather disturbing concept in and of itself. It also opens the door for a number of other disturbing possibilities."
"Ok..." Chris drawled, while tracing bored circles on the open pages of the books on the desk. "But what exactly is Einherjar?"
Merric let out a long sigh, gathering most of the books on the desk into a slightly haphazard pile. "Einherjar... Are magical spirits. Summoned by keepers to fight their battles... Or re-enact battles of old."
Chris grunted in response, his acute mind already working out the mage's issue. "Ah, so you're worrying that everything we are going through is simply us re-enacting some age-old ballad."
"Yes... That pretty much sums it up. But, in all seriousness, what if all the pain and suffering, all the battles hard fought and won... What if is all just a cosmic game?" Merric bemoaned, planting his face in his palms.
Chris ruffled the mage's unkempt looking hair, eliciting a groan from the victimized party. The young tactician knew he hated when he did that. "Aw c'mon. If that were the case, then we should still fight like crazy. Give the people watching a good show, right? Because if it's not the case, then it would seriously suck to not have given our all to our cause."
Merric didn't budge, still sitting, head in his hands, resting in his self-induced scientific misery. "But that's not all of it. Even if we are not just characters following a preset course, there are other possibilities. What if we are being controlled by a godlike being? One who rests beyond our sight or comprehension, yet controls our every movement, manages the army? He could decide who lives or who dies. Just to see what happens. He could replay the same moments in history over and over again, trying for different outcomes. A different story told each time, at the expense of our repeated misery. Or worse still, what if we are nothing more then a poorly translated remake to a tale much older?"
A loud snap rung out through the study, ending with Merric on the floor, and Chris rubbing his sore hand.
"Look Merric. That is crazy talk on a level I've never even seen before. Now, you snap put of it and get your act together. We need you. Your a vital part of our army, and none of us need you sulking around like this." The tactician chastised, grabbing the mage and hefting him to his feet. "Now, get out of here. Go find Linde or something."
The tactician pointed a harsh finger towards the door, and the mage complied with a sneer.
Once Merric had left, Chris let out a long sigh. "I'll never understand that person."
A/N; I'm not even going to bother reciting the ridiculously long list of why I haven't been writing and updating. Not that anyone really seems to care anyways. FE1/3/11/12 doesn't really get much attention anyways.
Bonus points to the person who gets the joke of this filler chapter. Which was just written to prove I'm neither dead nor giving up on this story.
Extra bonus points to the first person who gets the reference in this story's title, because nobody seems to either care or understand it.
Cheers~