Chapter 7: Northern Shore

Waves sighed across a gray shore, choked with low hanging clouds, and wheeling sea birds. Their long cries echoed across a beach barren of everything, save for stones, tides-

And a figure washed up on the beach. Only the slow rise and fall of his sides showed there was something other than seawater in his lungs.

With a groan, his head listed to the side. The hood of his robe fell back to show rich blue hair, bedraggled and sticking to his face. His eyes blinked open, echoing a gentle sea… and showing confusion.

"Where-?" He tried to say, only to cough up seawater. His mind scrambled, trying to latch onto something familiar or some sort of answer.

'A dream of seas and a giant sky-colored eye.' His fingers gave a twitch, digging lines into the gravelly sand. His thoughts lurched and sputtered, echoing his lungs as they coughed for air.

'I think... I think I remember that much.' Though not why the eye was important, nor why it took up so much space in his thoughts.

…Or why all of his thoughts were tinged with aqua and crashing waves, and nothing else.

He pulled himself onto his hands, the long sleeves of his robe dragging across the gravel. The effort left his arms screaming, and his head spinning as he tried to ease himself onto his side. His feet and legs twitched, giving a feeble kick. They were weak and clumsy things, but he needed to get up.

"Don't panic; you just washed ashore," came a gentle voice. A set of hands rested on his shoulder, calming him. "I should know. I saw the waves carry you in, and it's a wonder you didn't drown."

The hands helped him sit up a little straighter, and he took in his soaked clothing.

"I- I guess…" His tongue was clumsy, and despite just battling the sea there was a dryness to his throat. He rolled his head to the side, trying to figure out who was holding him up. His eyes fell on a set of gold trimmed sleeves, and violet-black cloth.

"Easy does it." The voice prompted. "Though if you want to work on something, how does a name sound?"

"M-Morgan." He wheezed out. "My name's Morgan... I think?"

A chuckle reached his ears, a hand helping him out of the sodden cloak. "And I'm Morgana. Similar names, on top of a shared taste in clothing. I guess I should have predicted that."

"Predicted-?"

"Sorry, I'm getting off tangent. Do you... remember anything?"

"N-no. Nothing, other than my name. How did I-?" A flash of blue cut into his brain, his eyes screwing shut from pain.

"Don't rush it, and I'll try to explain what I can. You were brought here for a purpose... and are apparently drained from the experience. Your eyes keep sliding shut."

Morgan gave a groan in answer; trying to keep his eyes open was like trying to hold a ship up with his bare hands. His rescuer lifted him up a little further, enough for him to glimpse a tiny sailboat, riding the waves up and down.

"Did… did you see me from that?"

"Observant of you. But for now, try to gather your strength and rest. I'll set sail for Ferox, since you're needed there." The voice finished. Right before Morgan's eyes slid shut, he managed to loll his head to the side and see who he was speaking to. He picked out an older face, dark skin framed by snowy white hair cropped short-

Her features seemed familiar… but before Morgan could place why, he drifted into exhausted sleep.

-o-o-o-

Regna Ferox could have been kin to Ylisstol, in some distant past. Her rougher, but also hardier cousin. She stood proud amongst tall gray rocks, her buildings springing out, rugged as any trees. Ash and earth colored wooden beams formed steep roofed houses and watch towers. The ocean turned into a broad river, weaving between mountains. When he leaned over the side, Chrom couldn't see a bottom to the riverbed.

"The fjords of Ferox." Frederick provided. "I've seen them once or twice in passing. They do have a way of taking one's breath away, regardless of how many times I've been here."

"Yeah." Chrom breathed out, looking up from the waters and around their ship. Nearby, Robin and Ricken were also taking in the sights with wide eyed stares.

The fjords were broad enough to allow their fleet easy sailing, the ships traveling in units of three through the passages. A time or two Chrom held his breath, worrying that the ships would run aground… But he never glimpsed a bottom to the rivers, and the ships never found anything to get stuck on. As the mountains grew, so did the buildings. Towers carved from storm tinted rock loomed, following the slope of mountains. Slowly the cliffs grew further apart, and waters and structures broadened into a great stone harbor.

'Furia Harbor.' The name, much like the stone, had endured for centuries.

Her town, however, seemed to be populated only by ghosts. At least that was Chrom's impression, with the empty docks staring back at them. Only the lonely ringing of a bell echoed out, the one sign of life.

"I've sent messengers ahead of us to the capital. I believe they'll listen to Phila, and understand our request is sincere." Emmeryn offered. Despite the assurance, Chrom had his doubts. His hands kept ghosting to his sword belt, though he knew better than to draw steel. Just because the docks appeared to be barren didn't mean there weren't eyes watching the fleet, judging their actions.

At last, figures appeared on the docks. They wore heavy armor, standing proud and fearless over the fact that the steel might drag them into the depths with a careless step.

"Do we address the Exalt of Ylisse?" Came the voice from one, and Emmeryn stepped forward at his words.

"I am she… and honored to be in the company of such warriors." That was one way of putting it, Chrom thought with a grunt. He didn't much care for the sparse force; as if the Feroxi believed they only warranted the bare minimum of an escort. If Emm saw an insult in the gesture, she didn't show it. Instead she glided down the planking of the ship, Frederick a shadow behind her.

Chrom brought up the rear, motioning for the rest of the Shepherds to stay behind.

"I've come to seek an audience with your leaders, from one ruler to another." Their welcoming party didn't betray interest over that… but neither did their hands go to their weapons.

"We received a messenger a few days ago, claiming she flew ahead of a fleet." The lead soldier glanced over the fleet, considering. "And spoke true enough of your arrival, it seems. If you would accompany us to the castle, immediately, we can see what your claims are."

"Imm-?" That threw Emmeryn for a loop, and even Chrom. He and she had both expected they'd need to wait onboard the fleet for days, while arrangements were made. But the Feroxi clearly had a different way of approaching things.

'I honestly might prefer this way.' Chrom thought, right as Emmeryn gathered herself up and responded.

"O-of course. I would never wish to keep them waiting."

That earned a brief look of approval from the escort. Their leader nodded to the ships. "Your people have our permission to come ashore as well… though they might find the mood a bit dour. We're not inclined to celebrate or be all that welcoming."

In the distance came a growl of thunder. Storm clouds were building, beyond the reach of the mountains and past the harbor.

'Ill omens.' And not something that encouraged idleness. The Shepherd's crew moved down the planks, also stepping ashore and fanning out along the docks.

"Frederick... would you be able to accompany the Exalt?" Chrom murmured, as Emmeryn walked into the ranks of the escort. The armored figures parted around her, loathe to have steel meet the silk of her robes.

"Gladly, milord... I don't care for the mood of this city any more than you do. But what about you-?"

"I'll manage on my own. And as for Lissa…" he paused, turning to his sister. "I think you should go as well." Chrom watched her face scrunch up in confusion, mixed with the beginnings of a pout. He sensed the argument rising in her throat, and before she had the chance to voice it, he spoke again. "I mean it; I think acting as witness to this meeting would be good for you. You can learn a few things from Emm."

The grumpy look faded from Lissa's face, and she glanced between Chrom and Emm.

"If you're sure..." Lissa was doubtful. She was likely thinking this would be a combination of stressful and boring. But Chrom wasn't going to give her room to protest.

"I am. You've learned sailing, but it's time to back that up with political knowledge. You never know if you might be called up to act in Emm's stead, or mine. So just in case-"

He nodded to where Emmeryn stood, ready to depart. Frederick placed a hand on Lissa's shoulder, guiding her to Emm's side. Lissa still watched Chrom, confused.

"Wait! What about YOU coming along too-!" He'd ducked out of reach or earshot before Lissa could finish. A quick dash put some distance between himself and the escort. In the corner of his eyes, he noticed the harbor finally began to show signs of activity. In the shape of people lashing down ships and firmly anchoring them in the face of the storm.

"Sorry, but I'm not much of a fit for diplomatic meetings myself." 'And I want to try things my own way.' He quietly added on. The escort was already moving away.

Chrom put a few docks between him and the Shepherd, to make sure Frederick wouldn't be tempted to drag him back by the ear. He only breathed easy when the escort vanished into the town.

"...You're either shrewd, or a touch irresponsible. I'm not sure which." The voice in his ear almost set him stumbling off the docks and into the harbor. Only a hand on his shoulder stopped him short.

"Robin!" She looked a little shaky on her feet, but still managed to draw him away from the edge of the docks. "What are you-?"

"You might not prefer politics… but someone who jumps overboard to save others isn't running off to enjoy himself. You're going to look for answers in your own way, aren't you?"

"...I'm almost worried at how perceptive you are." He grumbled. "But you're right. I want to find out what has people on edge. That, and see if we can help them with whatever it is. I just want to do it outside the confines of something as stiff as a diplomatic meeting."

"I thought so." Robin said. "In fact, I'd like to do the same thing, if you'd allow it."

Chrom gave a quick grin, extending a hand so they could shake on it.

"I'd allow it, and be glad of it. Let's see what we can uncover here."

-o-o-o-

'What' ended up being precious little. At least that was the case, up until Chrom got the idea of searching in taverns, where people were a bit less suspicious of newcomers.

"We'd better play it casual." He told her. "Pretend to be part of the rank and file… and if anyone asks, we're both common sailors seeking shelter from the storm. Which is partially true!" With that said they'd focused their efforts on a place Robin picked out; a moss covered stone building further up the slope.

Once inside, the chill of the harbor and the encroaching storm was chased out of their bones. A fire crackled in a hearth, casting a flickering orange glow that coated everything; from the dust flecked boards that creaked underfoot, to the broad wooden beams that held up the low hanging roof. The smoke of the burning logs combined with whatever broth was bubbling away, adding to the warm atmosphere.

Robin could only marvel at the interior for so long, however. Soon enough, she was amazed at what a few glasses of alcohol could do to pry lips and information out... though some of it was odd to Robin's ears.

"Waterspouts, large enough to turn ships to splinters," said one sailor, his hands seeming to shake at the memory and find solace only in his drink. He took a few hasty sips, drawing in warmth from the honeyed mead sliding down his throat. Another murmured about blood thirsty sea serpents preying on any unlucky vessel they found.

When Chrom brought up their own encounters with the Risen, it prompted only silence. A scarred sailor downed his drink in a single gulp, staring at Chrom with sunken, haunted eyes.

"Ye say ye've seen corpses walk?" It took a moment to work through his accent, but Chrom and Robin both gave a nod. The sailor straightened up from where he leaned over his table, giving a pained grunt. He drew a slashing motion across his chest, like he was warding off something.

"…Bleak omens, then. Just as dark as seeing the Sea Folk at long last."

A darkness colored his words. "I've seen 'em, scaled freaks with black eyes. Clawing up from the depths to sink ships, and drag sailors down to join them-"

The rest of his words rushed around Robin. Her head was a roil, and sudden as a whale breaching from the ocean, her nightmares washed over her.

She struggled underwater, a flash of scales competing with the glare of moonlight overhead. But she had to get to the surface, before eyes fell on her. At her back, a dying ship was pulled under the waves. She had to escape from its wake-

A collection of hands snatched at her limbs, holding her fast. Webbing clung between the fingers, and when she stretched out her own hands Robin saw the same folds of skin stretched across her fingers. The others didn't care about her confusion, tightening and clawing at her skin. Their hands yanked her away, before she could hope to breach the surface. The ocean blurred around her, and she found herself in a throne room. One different from Ylisse, illuminated by a wane ray of light and crowned in strange gilded bones. She didn't have time to take in the decorations. Not when a set of red eyes captured her gaze.

"You were seen traveling to the surface again." She couldn't argue, under that glare. "To see THEM. Your purpose isn't to watch them, Robin. It's to pull them below the waves, for invading our realm."

She tried to shake her head. To argue that she didn't want any part in it-

"Don't flinch from this, Robin. THIS is our legacy. And will be yours, soon enough. Once you fulfill-"

Chrom's disbelieving laugh jolted her out of the nightmare. "Merfolk? Are you sure it's not the wine spirits talking now?" Chrom started to laugh again… only for the drinker to silence him with a glare.

'Dream. It had to be a dream.' Robin told herself. And tried to banish the images of being dragged by fishtailed guards, their tails and gills both thrashing in anger. 'Chrom said it himself; they can't be real.'

"Is that really so impossible, compared to skeleton ships crewed by the living dead?" The sailor asked. "All sorts of legend are coming to life… so why not Mer? My ship barely got a lifeboat off… and nay everyone made it. More 'n a few of us got grabbed over the side by webbed fingers."

Robin flexed her own fingers, reminding herself that they were the same as Chrom's. Identical to all the other sailors in the bars, save for a few calluses.

"Wh… If they WERE real, what would they want from sailors?" Chrom asked… but before he could get an answer, the door to the bar slammed open. The patrons jumped at the crash, some spilling their drinks. A handful cursed the intruders, only to go silent when they glimpsed who had thrown the door open.

At the threshold were people with the look of fighters. Their armor and weapons caught the wane bits of sunlight trying to pierce the overcast sky. Robin watched as Chrom's hand went to his own sword, tension winding across his shoulders.

His eyes settled on their leader. A tall, lean woman, who strode into the tavern with a fierce purpose. Her head was held high, and commanded the attention of everyone.

"I understand," she growled the words out. "That we have outlanders in our midst."

-o-o-o-

'This doesn't look good. Or sound good.' Chrom had enough time to think, watching the strangers and their leader.

"So." She swept blonde bangs aside from her face, watching with icy blue eyes. Those flecks of ice fixed on Chrom and Robin, drawing a shiver from them both. The leader took note of his hair, and how it easily separated Chrom from the locals. "I heard that we had someone out of town, pushing for information... When are you planning to take all this information to your comrades?"

There was an accusing edge in her voice that he didn't like. And he really didn't like how the mail of her gloves clinked together when her hand rested over her weapon. The short spear glinted in the firelight, the flickering edges making the weapon almost twitch from restlessness.

"I don't see why us looking for information, or having allies, is such a concern." Chrom said, trying to keep his voice calm and hoping that would ease the situation. Emm didn't need any trouble, particularly not a bar brawl so soon after landfall.

"Then I'll spell it out for you. I don't care for you coming in here, acting as though you own the place. You may claim peace, but I know better; I've seen your sort before, brigand. You sneak and prod, searching for weak points in the defenses, so that you'll have easy plunder."

"Plunder-!? You honestly think we're pirates!?" He couldn't keep the indignation out of his voice, nor prevent it from rising to an outraged shout. "You couldn't be more wrong!"

He shoved his chair back, bolting to his feet. The bar patrons flinched back from the motion, but the patrol leader was made of sterner stuff.

"We're here as dignitaries… and we're SUPPOSED to be getting a grasp of the situation so we can help-!"

The woman didn't look that convinced, and cut him off.

"Ferox's problems are her own. We've dodged more than our share of raiders and storms... and weathered things from the drinking stories and tall tales of sailors. However our biggest problem remains Plegian brigands. And since they don't listen, I'm ready to send you back as an example. Spilling your blood in the ocean might paint them a clearer picture of what happens to those who threaten Ferox." She growled out the last word. That was the only warning Chrom had before she snapped a hand at the front of his tunic and hoisted him upwards.

He barely had time for a surprised 'urk!?' before she slammed him into the bar counter. He lashed out with a foot on reflex, stomping at her knee. She winced, and answered by sliding him across the bar's surface.

'Oh no those bottles are-' He wasn't sure what made him flinch more. The way the glasses shattered against his shoulder, or how many drinks were going to waste from the motion. The bar swam around him, after a bottle clunked across his forehead.

"Lady Raimi!" The tavernkeep tried to object, only to shrink from her glare. Her hands stayed snapped on Chrom, and she wound back a fist, ready to drive it into his nose-

The motion stopped short when a chair shattered over her back, and she fell slack. Chrom wrenched himself free… and found himself looking at Robin, holding a chair leg.

"Robin? That… That chair leg isn't a sword. Not anymore than a soup ladle is." He felt the need to point that out. Robin stepped up to his side, as Raimi found her breath and glared at them. Her guards flanked around her.

At just the slightest nod from Raimi, they rushed forward. The two tried to draw their swords. Chrom managed to put a stop to that, courtesy of an elbow to one man's face. The impact made the man drop his sword, and Chrom was quick to kick the weapon out of reach. In the corner of his eye, he saw Robin tossing him the chair leg, and his hand snatched it out of the air.

It wasn't quite a sword, but was sturdy enough to stop the second blade from slicing Chrom's nose off. He gripped the wooden leg tight, throwing his weight against the guard… and then let go when Robin grabbed a bottle and smashed it into the man's head.

Both guards crumbled to the floor, and Raimi found herself staring up at the two. Doubt flickered across her face, and she didn't give them the same disdainful look as before.

"Still think we're just brigands-?" He tried to ask.

Only for another squadron to charge in through the door, drawn by the noise.

"Chrom... I get the feeling that's more people than we can possibly fight. We don't have enough numbers or improvised weapons for a scuffle like this." Robin whispered.

"And they're wearing the Feroxi symbol." Chrom groaned, picking out the blue wolves sewn on the clothing. With a lurch in his gut, he realized Raimi was wearing the same. She was also stumbling back to her feet, glancing between Chrom, Robin, and the Feroxi reinforcements.

Another captain stepped forward, and addressed Raimi at arm's length as she rightened herself.

"…What sort of trouble are you getting into?" He asked in an exasperated voice. His dark eyes flickered over the scene. "Because it looks like a bar brawl, and I don't think our orders cover starting those."

"…Lon'qu." Raimi answered, leveling her gaze on the brown haired leader. "We… were trying to apprehend some strangers in the port."

"I'll grant you that they look odd…" Lon'qu answered, glancing at them. "But what were you planning to do, once you had them arrested?"

"Take them to the Khans." Raimi answered.

"Well… Maybe you should have said that from the start, instead of trying to polish the bar with my head." Chrom fought back the grumble in his voice, before continuing. "We'll go along though… if that's what it takes to convince you that we aren't pirates."

-o-o-o-

Robin's feet dragged on the cobblestones. The path lead upwards at a knee aching angle, winding over stone and slopes to a stronghold.

With how Chrom hung his head, they could have been marching for the gallows instead of a meeting room. Their pace was also slow, drawing out the trip to an agonizing wait. With the time she had, Robin studied the looming building that waited at the end of the climb.

Ferox's stronghold perched above the harbor, similar to Ylisse. Unlike Ylisse, it was built from the same gray mountain rock that the harbor had in abundance, and was draped in green mosses. The structure boasted an ancient strength and pride, with how it settled on the mountain slope.

"I'm honestly not sure who I'm more afraid of." Chrom murmured. "The Khans or Emmeryn."

One of the guards shoved Robin forward when she paused to stare at the fortress. She noticed the welt on his face, and that it was the same guard she'd struck across the head.

"Keep your feet moving." With another shove Robin was sent stumbling forward. Her legs went clumsy, her feet scrambling to keep her up. The Feroxi guard glowered at that, disgusted by her stumbling, and moved to shove her again.

"Leave her be." Chrom snarled. "Or I swear it'll be more than a bar fight I'll be sentenced to chains for." He glared at the man, meeting him eye to eye and daring him to try something.

"All of you can ease up." Raimi cut in. "Don't push the girl, and we'll get spared any outbursts from the Prince; we'll get there in our own time."

"My thanks," Robin tried, only to focus on Raimi's use of the title. She blurted out the next words. "Wait, you believe that Chrom's a prince now?"

"He certainly fights like one befitting his station." Raimi rubbed her bruises as she spoke. "Which makes this something of an escort and a safeguard. We'll hash this out, ideally with none of us ending up in prison."

With that pronouncement, she led them into the fortress. Robin tried to keep the pounding of her heartbeat down… and not think about how oppressive those walls appeared. Or how effectively they shut out the scant light.

Lon'qu took point, ready to put some distance between himself and Robin… and even Raimi from the looks of it. The knight rolled her eyes at him, allowing him to vanish down the hall.

"I suppose we could benefit from a herald." Raimi said to his receding footsteps. She guided them down a network of halls, before finally reaching a set of double doors. One of them was already pried open. Robin could make out Lon'qu's voice, drifting through the doors and explaining the situation-

Followed by a booming laugh. Robin caught echoes of Lon'qu speaking over the laugh, and reporting how a broken chair leg had parried a sword.

A few more footsteps brought them into the room; a great, circular affair dominated by a massive table. Filling the seats were Emmeryn, Lissa, Frederick, and two armored figures who Robin guessed had to be the Feroxi Khans.

Robin met their eyes, wondering at the grins on the Khans… And worrying at the way Emmeryn frowned, when she saw Robin and Chrom.

-o-o-o-

It was amazing how Emmeryn could make him feel like a boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

"Chrom..." Emmeryn gave him a exasperated look, at odds with the Khan's satisfied smiles. "I-I can't say I'm all that pleased from what I've heard. But to my surprise, it seems this is a fortunate turn of events for our alliance with Flavia and Basilio, at the very least."

He blinked at that, mouth opening and closing but unable to form the right question.

"What the young Exalt means is, we think you have some spirit in you after all!" Basilio said, a laugh barely hidden behind his words.

"Before you arrived, I was having some difficulty convincing them that an alliance would be good for us all." Emmeryn elaborated. "And yet once we had reports about you, ah, 'holding your own' in a bar fight, they've become much more favorable."

"And again, I ask for your forgiveness on that, Exalt." Flavia continued, her mood darkening for a heartbeat. "But look at it from our perspective; Ylisse has withdrawn into herself for years. And before that, the prior Exalt worked his damndest to sour relations."

"...We're all well aware of what he did." Chrom mumbled.

"Point being, we'd have our people questioning us and our alliance. Particularly when Ylisse hasn't proved her strength in too long of a time."

"But... they seem to see a way out of this." Emmeryn nodded to the two Khans. "Your report sparked an idea."

"It's the only way that convinces everyone this is a smart move." Flavia pointed out. Robin raised her head at that, curiosity making her lean forward. "We hold a ritual and have the young prince show the strength of his people,"

"That sounds a bit more of my speed." Chrom was already nodding along, and taking a little more heart.

"Two days from now,"

"I can make that work," he said.

"In armed combat." Flavia finished.

And his thoughts opted to blank, while his mouth moved.

"W-wait, what!?"