It had been far, far too long since he had worked on such a scale.
Although he was no stranger to working with royal troops, he found himself rather pleasantly surprised at how varied the Shepards were. Ylisse's finest came from a wide variety of backgrounds, from noble houses to former farm boys, all united to protect the nation.
Chrom really was something else. Soren couldn't help but admire him, and he knew all of the soldiers under his command felt the same, albeit likely for very different reasons. Chrom, in Soren's eyes, was a born leader. Compassionate for his subjects, yet firm in his convictions. He had not been so impressed in a leader in a long, long, time.
The exalt, on the other hand, he took an almost immediate dislike towards. She simply did not have the will to make any tough decisions. As a leader, she should be able to make basic military orders. Not hide in her palace under the guise of wanting peace. The others seemed to disagree, and seemed almost horrified whenever he criticized her methods, often to her face. She always listened, but never followed his advice.
Lissa was a bit more of a mixed bag. Although she was no Chrom, Soren thought that was due more to inexperience than anything else. She was completely willing to go out and help fight, but she was childish. Immature. She likely didn't even understand just what actual warfare was yet. She would know soon enough, if Soren had his way. She certainly did have talent with the staff.
The other shepards he knew only vaguely. Sully, the proud tomboy, was a bit too eager to prove herself. Showing off in the middle of a battle would not help their cause. He had scolded her more than once already. She had never been pleased, and had often challenged him to a duel. He wasn't quite stupid enough to accept.
Stahl was her total opposite. Lazy, unrefined, but was able to keep a cool, steady head during the most vicious drills. Getting him motivated would be the key to make him shine, but Soren wasn't quite show how to do that just yet. A little more time, perhaps, would offer answers.
Sumia hadn't exactly impressed him so far, either. Clumsy, not at all talented with a sword, and a bit too much of a romantic. He had found her curled up with a novel far too often for his taste. When he asked Chrom how she had been recruited, Chrom mentioned her unusual talent with animals. Soren would have preferred a real warrior over a zookeeper.
Vaike was Vaike. Rude, obnoxious, and far too overconfident for his own good. Soren wasn't surprised at all when he learned he had come from the streets. His blows were strong, but lacked proper technique.
Miriel was far too interested in the WHYS of things rather than how to improve herself, which irritated Soren.
And lastly...
"Soren!"
He ignore her, focusing instead on the tome set out in front of him. "I'm busy." He said. "Leave me."
She scowled at him, not at all a rare occurence from her. "When a lady asks something of you," she said, "She expects it to be done immediately!"
"I'm sorry?" He asked, as he looked up at her.
"Marth!" She said. "My darling Lissa is quite taken with him, and I can't say I like the idea of some masked swordsman stealing away the the royal princess!"
"I'm sure Lissa will only be 'stolen' if she wants to be." He said coolly. "It is not your place to judge who she can and can't spend time with."
Maribelle was a bit of an oddball. An old friend of Lissa, daughter of a nobleman, and for too arrogant for her good. She thought she could just do whatever she liked by simply having a sharp tounge. Soren thought otherwise, and made a point to specifically go out of his way to bother her by ignoring her often unreasonable demands.
However, sadly, this time she had a point.
"I have not been able to track down this Marth." He admitted. "He's deliberately hiding from us." He picked up the quill in his right hand, twirling it round. "I'm sure of it."
"But why?" Maribelle wondered aloud. "He saved LIssa's life... doesn't he want to help us?"
"I believe so." Soren said. "He certainly is a mystery." He shrugged. "You are not coming with us to Ragna Ferox, then?"
Her eyes flared. "That run down place?" She snarled. "I'd rather die!"
"Good." Soren said. "I want you to look after the Exalt while we're gone. The last thing we need is her going charging into Plegia on her own, begging for peace."
She sniffed. "Show some respect!" She snapped. "I would gladly die for the Exalt, I'll have you know!"
"Just make sure she doesn't do anything stupid." He said. "I don't want her to confront Gangrel before I properly understand the situation."
...
Ragna Ferox brought back a lot of memories that Soren did quite want to surface.
"You've been looking ill, Soren." Chrom commented. "Is something on your mind?"
He shook his head. "It's nothing." He claimed.
This was a blatant lie. Ragna Ferox, from it's warlike culture to it's cold climate, reminded him far too much of Daein.
True, Daein didn't technically exist anymore... but it was the first country he had ever waged real war against, and it was kind of hard to forget that harrowing experience.
...
"Soren, could I have a word? It's about Marth..."
"Excellent!" Soren said. "I was just coming to talk to you about that, actually. What is it you wanted to discuss?"
"His sword." Chrom said. "Did you get a good look at it?"
"... I'm sorry, but no." Soren said. "Why do you ask."
He drew Falchion, and held it up to Soren's face. "It was identical to this." He said solemnly.
"Falchion?" Soren replied. This was a much more astute observation than he had expected. "Are you sure?"
"I'm certain." He said.
"Hm." Soren said. "That IS interesting." He ruffled his spell book, registering the information. "Very interesting indeed." He looked up at him, frowning slightly. "I think we are a little bit closer to uncovering Marth's true identity." He said. "I have just spoken with Lon'qu."
"Lon'qu?" Chrom repeated.
Soren nodded. "Something Basilio told me about Lon'qu struck me as very odd. Namely, I simply couldn't believe that such a talented swordsman lost a duel as quickly as he did." He coughed slightly. "Thankfully, Lissa provided the answer to that."
"Lissa?"
"He doesn't like being near women." Soren reminded him. "Not. One. Bit."
Realization dawned on Chrom's face. "Are you telling me..." he said, his voice low. "Is that you think Marth is a woman?"
"I'm certain of it." He said. "You may want to ask Lissa to cancel her wedding plans."
Chrom shook his head. "This just raises more questions... who is she?"
"I don't know yet." Soren admitted. "But I really don't think she means Ylisse any harm.
"She did save Lissa's life." Chrom recalled. "We owe her a great debt."
"Indeed." Soren said. "This thing about her Falchion... she becomes more and more fascinating every time we encounter her."
...
"You will release her!" Chrom said, his temper flaring. "She has done nothing to you!"
Gangrel laughed. "So trespassing is not a crime in Ylisse, is it?" He crowed. Turning to the side, he addressed the hooded figure next to him, in hushed whispers.
"The Plegian Tactician." Lissa whispered frantically into his ear.
He had heard about this dark figure during his time in Ylisse. Mysterious, quiet, and an absolutely brilliant strageist, The Tactician was said to be able to fell any enemy set against him.
Soren didn't put much stock in rumors, but as long as Maribelle remained a captive, he could not risk losing her.
And so he waited, as Emmeryn tried to plea with Gangrel.
...
The battle, after Maribelle had been freed, proved to be a bitter one. The Tactician had not taken to the field, instead choosing to command from afar. Coward, Soren thought bitterly, as he demolished another Wyvern rider with a well timed wind spell.
Yet sheer numbers of the enemy had forced the battle to drag on. The Tactician likely assumed that the Ylisseans would collapse at the first sign of trouble, but Chrom was far too stubborn for that. Time and time again he personally led the charge into driving back the enemy, only to personally deliver the final blow to their leader.
He knew then that he had picked the right side.