Chapter 3
Limitations
Atris leaned back and let out a long exhale and the stress that came along with it. One of first things he wanted to do with his downtime was bathe, thankfully Chrom showed him one of the many rooms in the palace to do so. It was admittedly awkward waiting on a servant to fetch the water, but he had no clue where anything in the palace was and had simply decided to let the servant do what they needed to do.
The thought of him trying to make sense of the maze that was this place had occurred to him before. It was then the realization struck him as he sat up in the tub, he had no idea how to get back to the barracks! However, as the soothing waters overtook him, he decided that was a worry for the future Atris. It really was amazing how the warm water simply melted his worries and thoughts away, if he had any vices, it would no doubt be a proper bath.
Despite the relaxing nature of the water something had caught his eye, a peculiar mark on his left hand. It was black, an odd cross of a v and a u with the bottom of the marking ending in a double diamond. It had to be a tattoo of some kind, because despite his insistence it refused to scrub off. Perhaps, this was a link to his mysterious past. In truth he didn't very much care right now, the warm water taking precedent, and so sunk his hand back underneath the soothing depths.
Rising from the bath he grabbed a towel and began to dry himself; he stopped in front of a mirror. This was the first time he had ever seen what he looked like. His skin was very pale, but this seemed to be due more to lack of sun than anything else. He sighed and shook his head, running his hands down an angular jawline and to a small and pointed chin. His nose slightly wide, pointed with a slight upturn, and lips looked like what he imagined the average set would look like. As to his body, well he definitely didn't look like Chrom, but he wasn't exactly skinny either. Another set of "normal" it seemed.
Upon further observation the most defining features he had were his golden amber eyes. It was truly like his irises were like two polished gold coins. The other was his messy, mop of hair, an unnatural and stark black. It was odd, it was like the color of onyx, and from afar made the features of his hair hard to define. Running his hand through his hair he threw on the clothes that had been laid out for him, his previous ones taken to be washed, and in the case of the shirt replaced. He almost argued with the servant to leave his coat, but the last thing he wanted was to leave a bad impression on his first day in the palace, and so endured the strange nakedness he felt without its embrace.
"You're looking a lot better," Chrom said as Atris walked out of the bathroom. Chrom was leaning on a wall and dressed in a similar manner to him, leisure wear with a primary mixture of blue and white. Quite clear what colors the royals of Ylisse favored.
"Y-you haven't been out here the entire time, have you?" The tactician was startled by the surprise appearance of the newly discovered royal, his cheeks getting a bit hot given how long he spent within the bath.
"Nope, I followed your lead on this one. Fighting bandits is one thing but Risen leaves a certain stink that needs to be washed off.
"Risen?"
"It's what we've decided to call the creatures we encountered in the forest on the outskirts of Ylisstol. Other ranging parties have encountered them though out Ylisse, so unfortunately it seems they aren't exactly localized to the area. One more thing to deal with when we journey to Regna Ferox, but for now we should eat. Aside from a bit of foraging you, and I haven't eaten since we took down that bear." Chrom waved for him to follow as the two were soon walking in lockstep.
"I know my memory isn't exactly long winded, but we, uh work pretty well together. We took that thing down handily.
"That applies to more than just the bear you know, we took down the bandit leader in Southtown the same. Truth be told I had him on the backfoot, but that's only because I caught him off guard. I don't know if I could've kept up the pressure if you hadn't charged in. It feels right to fight beside you," the prince spoke, those last words seemingly to himself more than to the tactician. Shaking their head Chrom gave him a smirk followed by a wink. "With all this said I hope you don't get distracted so easily if a certain red-headed pegasus knight joins us in battle."
"E-e-excuse me!? What are you on about!?" Atris nearly shouted as he looked away from a snickering Chrom. "I wasn't distracted by anyone... you put me on that spot! I'm... just some guy in a room with royalty, royal knights, royal everything! I... guess I just couldn't handle the pressure," Atris half-lied, it was true he had been distracted by the beauty of the red-headed knight, but damn if he was going to let Chrom know that and give him the satisfaction. Besides, as much as he didn't want to appear weak in front of Chrom he figured it was best to be at least somewhat honest.
"O-oh. I'm- I'm sorry. Hm, I can see where you're coming from. It's easy for me to forget of Emm as anything more than just my sister, or Philia as more than just a nagging aunt. Huh..." Chrom frowned and cupped his chin their gazing falling to the marbled floor.
"Chrom don't think about it too much, yea it was unnerving at first, but Exalt Emmeryn is truly your sister. I don't know if you'd rub my head to calm me down, but the general thought is the same." Atris drawing the I out in a playful manner remarked to his friend. Breaking him out of his brief thought driven stupor, the blue-haired prince flashed him a quick half-grin and nodded.
Coming to a set of doors, Chrom eagerly threw them open to reveal the dinner that lay before. It wasn't exactly what you thought a meal prepared for royalty would be, not tacky or particularly ostentatious. There was food, a lot of it and a good deal of variety, but nothing was sprinkled with flakes of gold. All the Shepherds that he had met had already gathered and began eating, he noticed three people he hadn't seen before. The most notable was a man who seemed to have dark green hair that looked like he just rolled out of bed. The other two was a woman and beside her, a boy around Lissa's age, both donning what appeared to be robes and wide brimmed pointed hats.
He sat next to Chrom who had already started piling food on his own plate, with Atris following his lead. Looking at his plate, a healthy assortment of meat, vegetables, cheese and bread, he began to ferally devour his dinner. It wouldn't be long before he felt a quick smack upside the head as Chrom muttered something about him choking again. Atris didn't really care too much though and cast a shameless smile that caused the prince to chuckle.
The amnesiac noticed that he preferred gamier meats, perhaps he came from a family of hunters or had been from an area that had a variety of game to hunt and that was a major part of his diet. However, thoughts of his identity or his homeland would fade from his mind soon. Weariness had taken him as he was simply stuffed and looked at the prince with an almost pathetic look of drowsiness.
"I think I'm actually done for the day... I'm going try and find the barracks." Atris muttered as he did his best to stifle a yawn. He had planned to get to know the other three unknown faces, but his resolve wavered from the memory of a most excellent bath, followed by a filling dinner.
"Hey, I'll think I'll join you and hit the hay. I'm always tired after a big meal." The man with dark green hair said, he had a lazy smile on his face as he stood up and soon the two left the dining room. It sounded like more people were starting to agree with them as the chatter and laughter that had once filled the room began dying down.
Walking to the barracks, the man had introduced himself as Stahl. He had a pleasurable and contented demeanor about him. He seemed like a simple person, not in that he was stupid, but more that he sought after simpler things in life. Atris figured him as a guy who would be happy from one day to the next so long as he had a good meal, a good laugh, and a good night's sleep. Given the stronger personalities some of the Shepherds had, it gave him a small bit of comfort to know that there were people like Stahl around.
Eventually after a walk in which both Stahl's and his legs seemed bound and weighed down by iron, they made it to the barracks. The bunks in the building lay within the basement, a way to keep the sleeping quarters cooler during the hot southern Ylissian summers. But that didn't matter to Aris, it could've been hot enough to cook eggs on the cobblestone, because once his head hit the bed, he drifted off to sleep.
His eyes fluttered open as he tried to make sense of where he was, his grogginess made it near impossible to shift his head, but despite his bodies' complete unwillingness he made it do so. In the dim light he saw a bed next to his, a man with dark green hair. Stahl, yea that was his name. He was in the Shepherds barracks after a long (or at least to him it was) journey. Sitting up he saw the forms of Virion and Vaike snoozing, truth be told he was surprised Vaike didn't snore, given how loud the rest of his personality was. He didn't see the boy though, perhaps he bunked in a different area, after all it's not like Chrom and Lis-.
He turned to see a familiar blue-haired royal snoozing, a bit of drool leaking from their mouth as they lay sprawled out over the bed. Atris slapped his hand over his mouth as quietly as he could to suppress the giggling that threatened to boil over. The little prince looked so precious a muscled-bound angel he was. Only barely succeeding in stifling his laughter, he silently got out of bed and left the bunks to get started for the day. Lacing his boots, he stepped outside to find the sun only barely to begin its rise.
Atris frowned as he put his fingers to his temple and drummed them against it. It was far too early to really do anything. He had wanted to explore the palace or at the very least find its archives, library, whatever term they preferred to use for it and research the basics of magic. The notion he could use find himself unable to cast filled him with dread, sure he wasn't bad with a sword, but he very much liked his magic. It came so easily to him, that in a way it was hard not to enjoy it.
With a sudden realization he grabbed his head and slammed his foot on the ground in panic. He left his damn tome in his coat! He only hoped that someone noticed it, were tomes water resistant? He didn't know, so many blasted variables to consider! His mind running through the numerous possibilities, he didn't even hear the clink of armor as a gauntlet came to rest on his shoulder and the tactician leapt forward in alarm.
"Atris, do calm down. Being easily caught off guard as well as showing such visible panic is not befitting of the Shepherd's Tactician." A voice that could only be Frederick cut through the early morning darkness. "With that said I'm surprised to see you up so early, none but me or usually stirring at this time of day."
"Oh, Sir Frederick. Truth be told I didn't exactly plan to be up this early. I wish I was still sleeping though, it's too early to do what I had originally planned." Atris responded back with a still groggy tone in his voice, but even with the dim light he knew Frederick would most likely be sporting a rather questioning look about his "plans". "As for what I originally planned, I had wanted to go to the royal library to research more into the basics of magic. Rather not be caught lacking and my spells going poof, especially if it can cause me actual physical fatigue."
"Hm..." Even though he couldn't see it, he knew Frederick was staring him down intensely. The question was in what way was he staring him down. Was he staring him down like a spy ready to spring to action, or as an oddball who became a vital part of the Shepherds at the last moment? "You're at the very least aware enough that skulking about in the palace in the early mornings would be distasteful given your recent acceptance here. With that said, I know just the thing that is perfect for early morning risers." He still couldn't quite see Frederick's face, or at least he could only barely make it out, and maybe it was his imagination, but he swore there was a small smile on the knight's face.
As it turned out Frederick had taken it upon himself to instruct Atris in the manner of swordplay, while Frederick was far more masterful with a lance, he was still the one of the best swordsmen the Shepherds had to offer. The thing that was disconcerting is the knight wasn't actually teaching him anything. Spar after spar, all of which saw the prospective tactician knocked flat on his back.
Regardless, he got back up every time and challenged Frederick again, and again. Still, he never came close to beating his newly appointed "trainer". Whatever tricks he had were not enough to best the knight, although he did allow himself a small bit of pleasure every time, he threw the man off with his cunning.
Finally, Atris had to call for a break though. It had been an hour and the bruises he had gathered from the constant thrashing were beginning to take their toll on him. He had a hard time believing Frederick was doing this purely to torture him, but still he wasn't getting any advice and he needed to know what was going on.
"O-okay, what's going on, Sir Frederick? You haven't made a single comment about anything I've done since you decided to toss me around the training area." Atris sprawled out on the ground panting as the knight simply stared at him in the blue hue of the rising sun. It was as he suspected there wasn't some sadistic glee on the man's face, but one more of confusion. The knight was looking at him like he was some sort of riddle and finally with a sharp exhale Frederick decided he would at least humor him.
"You're incredibly strange to me, Atris. I've never engaged in combat with someone like you."
"Going to need a lot more clarification than that, Sir Frederick." The knight appeared to be getting frustrated as he tried to think of how best to explain it and then shook his head returning his gaze on the prone man.
"The reason I've not been correcting you or trying to teach you is... well you seem to have an odd understanding of swordsmanship. You grip the sword correctly, your footwork is proper, you actually swing a sword like you know what edge alignment is. On a technical aspect you have a thorough understanding of how to use a sword. In fact, you fight with a particularly Ylissian style of swordplay, it's rough, but it's there." Frederick paused for a moment and looked at the blunted sword that Atris had been using cast to the ground. "With that said you've never once fought with a sword, or perhaps any melee weapon at all. Your reflexes, your stamina, your general strength are utterly subpar. It's like someone dumped a treatise of swordsmanship into your head."
Oh, come on I seriously can't be that bad, can I?" he responded with a bit cheek in his voice frustrated at the situation. Frederick narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Yes, you are. The fact you nearly have died twice were if not for the intervention of others is proof of that." The knight's words were the right mix of harshness and truth to cause him to wince.
Harshness or not though, the man was on to something. In Southtown he felt his body was holding him back from what his brain was telling it to do. It was an odd battle between the two, and one he couldn't describe. Originally, he thought it was just a trick of the mind, but now Frederick was roughly of the same opinion he had earlier. Damn, so many questions and with each one he understood less and less of who he was. Right now, only one question mattered though.
"So, how do we fix this exactly?"
"Training, battlefield experience." Frederick stated plainly.
"Well... I suppose we best get back to it then." Atris went to grab his practice sword but was stopped when Frederick snatched it away from him.
"No, while sparring will no doubt temper your weaknesses it will do so slowly, and it will hamper you in the long run. As of now we must seek to improve your physical fitness. All the technique in the world simply doesn't matter if you don't have the endurance to use it."
Atris stood up his arms crossed as he stared at the ground mulling over Frederick's explanation. Turning his back to his trainer, he cringed feeling the sores and bruises all over his arms, hands, one on his ribs where he got smacked with the knight's blunted sword. Firing himself up to continue training he turned back to see Frederick was... he was completely unarmored.
Staring at the knight all he could do was blink while casting a blank look at the man. In the brief time he had turned around Frederick had completely taken off his armor and all the garments underneath, folded them neatly in a pile, and had donned this odd-looking outfit which encompassed nearly his entire body. Predictably, almost like every damn article of spare clothing in the palace it was blue and white.
"S-Sir Frederick what in Naga's name are you wearing!?"
"This is called a tracksuit Atris. Favored by many knights of my order for endurance training, it's also quite stylish if I dare say so. Anyway, here's yours, be quick and put it on we have a run to get to!" Frederick ordered, throwing a bundle of clothing at the tactician. The colors were... they were black and gold. The primary colors of his coat.
"H-how did you?"
"Atris, my duties to milord are great and varied. I serve not only as his lance, but I must make sure his physical health is well outside of battle. Should his highness need a blanket, I shall ride to the nearest town to fetch him one. Should he desire fish and the closest lake is frozen then it is my duty to wrestle the scaled creature from the icy depths. Even the road will not come to endanger him, for I shall ride ahead and secure the road of loose gravel and pebbles, gods above should he trip and twist an ankle. This also extends to a certain, amnesiac tactician who, for reasons I simply can't fathom, wishes to be by his side in combat. So, with that said fitting you and obtaining this garment on short notice was hardly the hassle you expect it was."
Frederick spoke with such a sense of passion and yet nonchalance as if everything the knight did for Chrom was incredibly ordinary, and not at all beyond the drive of any sane individual. With a simple nod all Atris could do was head back to the barracks for a quick change of clothes before coming back out in the... tracksuit. It felt nice at the very least.
Feelings of niceness would soon leave him though. Frederick had decided to go easy on him and simply run twenty laps around the royal palace. Now of course one might have thought this was just around the actual palace, as in the building, but of course not! Apparently much like his devotion to Chrom, Frederick's devotion to fitness nearly matched it in madness. A lap consisted of an entire trek around the inner wall which encompassed the entire palace complex, but also a trek around the outer wall which separated the palace from the rest of the city.
There was a desperate wish for the throbbing in his arms from before to flare up again, anything to distract from the burning in his chest and the nausea he was experiencing. Around the twelfth lap he simply couldn't keep jogging anymore and was walking, his mouth and throat a cracking desert as he doubled over nearly crumbling. Body nor spirit were willing in partaking any further in this insanity.
"D-dying... can't g-go on..." He felt sick to his stomach as the world seemed to spin around him and he looked up to see Frederick running in place beside him. "Y-you're not even... how!?"
"If this was all it took to tire me out, I'd be a poor excuse for a knight Atris. Here, if you were thirsty, you should've asked earlier." The knight still jogging in place gave him a flask of water which he found himself greedily sucking down until Frederick yanked it away from him. He was too exhausted to even glare at the knight and instead looked at him pitifully. "You drink too much of that so soon and you'll regret it. So, tell me, is this where you die? Because, by all means do so here. We don't need any hinderances on the battlefield." Atris found the energy to shoot the glare he so desperately wanted to do earlier and forced his legs to keep moving.
It was not to last though, around the seventeenth lap he finally broke. Atris stumbled and collapsed near the main entrance to the palace. He felt it coming up, crawling as best he could he threw up into the grass, all the water he drank from before spilling up along with whatever remained of last night's meal. Pushing himself away from the bile and wanting to retain whatever dignity he had left he collapsed across from it his face staring into the morning sky.
His entire body was one giant heartbeat as he felt his body pulse time and again, his breathing shallow as he struggled to make sense of the world around him. Eventually a figure blocked the light from the sun and cast a shadow over him that was mercifully cool. Frederick was looking down at him and smiling, of course he was smiling. Frederick beat him and they both knew it. Still, he was too tired to give the knight the satisfaction he deserved.
"At least you had the proper sense do that on the grass. It's truly been too long since I've been in this kind of scenario. Takes me back to my times as a recruit back when I did the same thing you just did now," Frederick spoke with a personal fondness he wasn't used to hearing from the knight, at least not unless it involved the royal family. The man disappeared from his view, the sounds of a soft almost crinkling sound soon after following them.
To his surprise Frederick actually sat down next to him. "Told you drinking all that water would be bad for you but given your lack of retort I imagine you accepted the inevitable." There was a brief almost unnatural pause in the man's speech. "If you had more energy in you, you would've caught on to me saying inevitable, truth be told Atris I knew you couldn't do all twenty laps. That said you came close to defying my expectations." Frederick mused to himself.
"Why... set... failure...?" Was all the tactician could groan out in while maintaining any level of lucidity in his speech.
"Hm, I needed to see you push yourself. Granted, I've seen you do in combat, but when someone is about to cut your head off with an axe the body wills itself a lot easier. In a non-life-threatening situation, you no doubt found your body fighting you at every point. You didn't run those laps to survive, you ran them because you made it happen, no one else can take credit for it. You have proved acceptable. The real training starts tomorrow, so rest up we will be at it bright and early." Frederick stood up and started to walk away.
"Frederick... thanks for... colors." Atris wheezed out causing the knight to stop briefly, but soon resumed walking away the sound of his footsteps in the grass lulling Atris to fall asleep
When Atris woke up the sun was still high in the sky, and he felt a new wave of nausea as he coughed and came close to retching. It took a moment, but he soon steadied himself and finally rose to his feet. Shambling back to the barracks he ignored the other Shepherds who greeted him, taking only the time to wolf down a single apple before he crashed onto one of the couches in the leisure area. He didn't know how long he lay on the couch for, the world simply seemed to blur and twist around him until he heard a sharp snapping as if to get his attention. He blinked, focusing on the figure in front of him, it was Chrom wearing a rather amused expression.
"So, given the choice of attire I'm assuming Frederick?"
"Yea, but he said I 'proved acceptable' so jokes on him." Atris sat up on the couch stretching as he was still sore, but found he wasn't feeling bad, if anything he felt rather refreshed. "Then again jokes also on me, I planned to spend the day doing quiet research, but no one was up besides Frederick and I and things just spiraled from there. Er... Chrom I've got a question."
"Okay, and that being?"
"I, um was wondering what exactly the pay is for being a Shepherd. You see the whole amnesia thing has me kind of concerned about, well forgetting everything all over again. I was hoping I could buy a couple of sturdy journals to chronicle things down but..."
"You went and gave your money away like a proper knight?" Chrom only received a dirty look from the tactician and he waved his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Alright, alright I'll ease up on the gallantry jokes. Anyway, to answer your question, a Shepherds pay is technically nothing. We're a volunteer militia force, that said we do have a general fund for common supplies, replacing weapons and so forth. But if all you need is a couple of journals, then just take this." Atris soon found a number of coins thrust into his hand as he nodded to his friend. He figured it was a better idea to not argue with a prince over a few coins.
"Thanks, what time is it out of curiosity? I was hoping I could just go grab them quick today before Frederick gets his hands on me tomorrow morning."
"If I had to guess, it's close to four. Do you even remember how to get to the market?" Chrom asked and the silence that followed was all the answer needed for that question. "Alright, let's make this quick, dinner will be ready in about two or so hours. Oh, and you might want to wash up a bit, I know you look like Frederick ran you into the ground, but you also smell like it too." The prince gave a weak smile as they rubbed the back of their head. Atris shot to his feet with energy he didn't know he had and charged to the nearest bathing room he could find, Chrom's laughter trailing behind the tactician.
It might've been cold, but it was clean at the very least. It was less of a bath, and more of taking cloth, soap, water and hitting the most strategic areas. Regardless, he still felt better even if it wasn't exactly the relaxing session he had last night. Exiting the room after throwing on the leisurewear he had been wearing before his training, he stopped noticing something folded outside the door. He couldn't help but giggle excitedly to himself as he scooped up his coat and his old pants, the new shirt was a brilliant white with sleeves that came close to his elbows, it was made of a rather breathable material and quite soft. He didn't know how they got there, who tracked him down, and he didn't care. He was just happy to be reunited with his old wardrobe once again.
He found himself almost with a skip in his step as he made his way to the palace's main gate. His hands occasionally patting down his coat, worried his thunder tome would suddenly disappear. It took a moment, but then he noticed his coat still had the same smell it did when he first woke up, an odd mixture of old paper and... some fragrance he couldn't quite piece together, perhaps it was a floral smell?
More pressing concerns soon became apparent when reaching the main gate of the palace he saw no Chrom in sight. Scanning the area, he wondered what the prince was up to, was he waiting for him back at the barracks? Turning on his heel he noticed his friend walking to him, he had a brown cloak and the right arm which was normally sleeveless was now sleeved.
"What are you doing?" Atris questioned the royal as he got a blank stare in response, the man tilting his head as if it wasn't obvious.
"I'm blending in? I figured it'd be for the best if I disguised myself, otherwise we'd have to assemble an escort, and that'd just be a waste of time."
He stared at the prince. Did he really think simply sleeving his right arm and a brown cloak to replace his silver cape was a disguise? He started to laugh in jest, but the moment he saw Chrom wasn't laughing and returned his mirth with a frown. He awkwardly stopped, Chrom earnestly believed he was incognito.
Not wanting to upset his friend further he simply bit his tongue and the two left the palace making their way to the market. Incredulously, Chrom's disguise seemed to work. No one seemed to give the prince or him a second look, but Atris absolutely refused to believe such a stupid attempt in any world could actually work. It was then that his attention was captured by a woman's voice, boisterous and full of bravado.
"You two! The mysterious stranger, and the man with the gold coins for eyes! I've got just what you need!" They both turned to the woman. Her hair was a dark ruby red, pulled back in a ponytail which sprang from her crown, a tail of curled locks flanked each cheek. She was wearing simple travel-wear, boots that came to her shins and really nothing too remarkable. She ran up to the disguised prince and tactician with far too sweet of a smile. "C'mon, c'mon! Why walk all the way to the square when you can get anything you want here!" She proudly exclaimed and started pulling to the two to her humble stall, taken aback by the forceful presence of the woman neither of them fought her off.
"Let me guess. You're both in the market for some new gear! I've got just the thing weapons of legend and yore! Things wielded by great heroes and heroines alike!" She ducked behind and suddenly pulled a golden (or at least it looked golden) blade and slammed it on the counter. It was... overly done to say the least, the pommel was a long knob-like shape with two almost grasping like crescents jutting from the bottom of the hilt. the crossguard or what composed of a crossguard was the same crescent design but reaching to the blade itself. Hooked razor-like metal segments adorned the entirety of the blade. "It's called Yato, an ancient blade supposedly forged during the first wars amongst the ancient dragons! I could sell it for...hm... thirty thousand gold, and it's a steal at that!"
"Um, we were actually looking for-"
"Wait, I should've guessed! The coat, the cloak. You're both mages no wonder you didn't marvel at this glorious artifact!" She removed the sword from the counter and ducked behind it once more. Atris swore he could hear rustling back behind it, as if she was sorting through a mountain of objects. First Chrom's disguise and now this oddball merchant, was this a fever dream? Suddenly a tome was slammed onto the counter. It was a brilliant gold with a red cross ornately done on the cover. "Behold, the great tome Luce! Greatest of the schools of light magic!"
"Okay this is ridiculous, I'm no mage, and I even know the art of light magic has been lost for ages." Chrom folded his arms and began to stare intensely at the merchant who simply tilted her head.
"Yea, well maybe you guys should take care not to lose stuff then. This really is a light magic tome but given the apparent scarcity of people who can use it... twenty thousand gold ought to be enough!" The merchant cheerfully exclaimed to the pair. No doubt the idea of this all being some strange fever dream infected Chrom's thoughts too, as the intensity of his stare ceased and was replaced by simple blankness.
"L-look this is getting out of hand, all we need are some journals. Before you even say it, no legendary journals of some king, or mage, or a god. We just need several blank journals to write in. That's it!" Atris said his voice was a mix of exasperation and capitulation.
"Journals... seriously? All you want is several journals to write in? That's hardly fun... welp give me a moment." She seemed a bit crestfallen at the mundaneness of Atris' request. Once again removing the beautiful tome she started shifting around, the same rustling sound emitting from behind the counter and not too long came back with three journals. "Here, three journals. They've got a couple of nice enchantments on them though, water proofing, the ability to seal itself off to anyone but the owner. Oh, and any damage to the pages, for example should you rip em' out, the pages will regrow over time. That said it won't retain whatever you wrote on it. For the set, let's say two hundred gold. I also accept promissory notes if you carry them."
Now, Atris knew full well that Chrom didn't even shove half that amount of gold into his hand. Pulling them out he noticed the coins weren't just gold, but white, silver, and the last one appeared to be brass. Of course, there would be different denominations of coins, but he had no idea what these were worth until Chrom took two of the white ones and placed them on the counter. Despite her earlier disappointment the merchant seemed to perk up at the sight of the coins as she pocketed them.
"Got a couple of big wigs, huh? Surprised you're carrying around these for such a mundane thing. Sure, you don't want one of my really special items?" She placed a finger on her chin and gave a small and cute smile to the two.
"Sorry, but this is all we're looking for. Didn't mean to get your hopes up though." Atris said and scratched the side of his head.
"Oh, it's nothing. Honestly, I came on far too strong, trying to follow my sisters into the trade, but I've still got a long way to go. Oh! My name is Anna by the way."
"Atris"
"Chronos"
It took everything for Atris to not stare at the prince for his chosen alias. It didn't matter anymore, as far as Atris was considered Chrom was a master of disguise and he was simply done questioning it. Concluding their business with Anna, she handed them each a small piece of paper. She told them that if they ever ran into any of her sisters to show them that, they'd cut them a good deal. Thanking the cheerful merchant, the two made their way back to the palace, where thankfully the rest of the day was normal enough. Atris finally made the proper introductions to both Miriel and Ricken as well.
Miriel was an interesting woman to say the least. She spoke with a rather detached manner of speech, as if she was an outside observer rather than part of the conversation. That said she had a brilliant mind, the kind that obsessed over understanding the world around them. But this brilliance seemed to sidetrack her, she was so caught up in understanding why things work, or how they came to be that more intuitive matters escaped her. In short, she lacked a lot when it came to social graces, but there was never a malicious nature behind it. In a way she reminded him of a female Frederick, granted Frederick could absolutely be an ass if he so desired too, it was just unlikely he would be.
Ricken was young, he was actually even younger than Lissa, the princess, having turned sixteen recently and Ricken's fifteenth birthday coming up rather soon, as he was rather prone to saying. More of a Shepherd in training than an official member of the militia, still Ricken was incredibly talented with wind magic. The youth apparently came from a long line of mages, clerics, and other wielders of magic. He claimed to be a seer, whatever that was. Ricken seemed like a good kid, a bit awkward at times. Regardless, Atris couldn't help but like the young mage.
The next several days were a slog of repetition. Starting with early morning training with Frederick, any nostalgia or fondness the man had over their first session was gone. Back was the no nonsense knight who put him through grueling training regiments alternating daily between endurance, strength and reflexes. At least this time Atris didn't throw up, he came close, but fought it back each time. He swore he saw Frederick smirk whenever the tactician fought back the desire to do so. Each morning to near the evening his body thrummed with pain, and it took whatever sort of will he had to drag himself onward to complete the day.
From the afternoon to early nights he (at Miriel's long list of suggestions) began to study magical theory. He became so preoccupied with studying that he forgot meals more than once, but Stahl and Lissa bailed him out of trouble each time. Thankfully he was quicker with his mind than he was with his body. The basics seemingly came to him easy, in fact the more he read on the more he seemed to "remember" about magic. It was like for every word he read he knew what the next twelve would be. The progress he made relearning spellcraft was leaps and bounds. Still, he had to stop, one for fear of turning his brain to soup, and two to get some sleep for the next day's training session. Tomorrow was supposed to be only an hour, but what Frederick was calling it sent shivers down his spine.
"Frederick's Fanatical Fitness Hour. I doubt Naga herself could give him the power to persevere tomorrow," he thought. Closing the latest book and marking his place with a piece of grass. The book detailed a rather interesting take on the applications of lightning magic. He had to admit he was a bit biased in enjoying what otherwise was actually pretty dry reading, lightning was his specialty, or at least it was the only thing he knew he could do.
Exiting the door, he ran and quite literally so into a familiar face. The sound of books flying all over the hallway and the weight of Sumia collapsing on him. All he could think of besides the pain in his head, was how in the hells she fell on top of him if he ran into her.
"A-Atris! I'm so sorry, I couldn't see where I was going. I uh, guess I decided to take a few too many books with me." Sumia pushed herself off him, a faint blush appearing on her face when she placed her hands on his chest.
"It's fine, I'm also at fault here. I have eyes and didn't use them." He gave her a friendly smile and started to help her gather the books up. Hoping to break the awkward tension he decided to make some simple conversation. "So, given the number of books I'm assuming you like reading quite a bit, Sumia."
"Oh yea! I really love reading! My father taught me how to read when I was little, even though he's almost on the other side of the halidom it keeps him close. You know if you want to borrow a book you can, Miriel trusts me to return everything, and well I trust you to return it to me. Besides, I know the stuff you borrowed is incredibly... studious. You should chase the days thoughts away with something simple!" Sumia cheered at the end her eyes almost twinkling. Atris couldn't help but chuckle at her energy as the two sorted the books into two separate piles.
"Sure, it sounds like a good idea. What books did you have?"
Oh, well let's see. How about, 'Raven, and the Moon-Scarred Pirates'?
"Sounds a bit... scary? It'll probably keep my mind up at night with thoughts of Risen. Sorry, Sumia maybe another time."
"Phooey, oh well. Oh, this one is great, or at least Cordelia said it was! What do you think of, 'The Light in Betwixt', it's a story of two young star-crossed lovers from different worlds!" She practically gushed at the book clutching it close to her chest. Whatever she was imagining it certainly had nothing to do with the book. Once Sumia had refocused her attention on him, his face was all she needed to know it wasn't the book for him.
"Aw... well, I mean third time has to be it, right?" She sifted books and stopped a dark blush coming across her face before she snatched that one from the pile and placed it off to the side. She muttered something along the lines of 'definitely not that one...' and continued to sort through before her face lit up and presented the final book. 'Roland, The Duelist at High Noon'!"
"Sounds like a pretty fun book, how's the ending to it?" Atris' smile soon disappeared when Sumia began making a few awkward noises. The woman finally let out disconcerted huff dropping the book gingerly to the ground.
"Jeez, Sumia... all you had to do was pick him out a stupid book he'd like. Can't even do this right... so much for getting stronger together." She murmured as she looked about to cry.
"Y-you know that second b-book, 'The Light in Betwixt' sounds like a wonderful book to try! I'm sure if both you and um, Cordelia liked it, it must be good!"
"Really!? I didn't think you were a romantic at heart! I'm so happy we share a similar taste in books." The excitement that lit up her eyes was amazing, and it transferred to an equally radiant smile. It was for a moment, like a flash of lightning, he saw something. Something he couldn't quite understand, but he knew there was far more to her than he had initially expected.
Returning her smile, together they carried the books to the barracks, placing them in a neat pile at the corner Sumia had made her own little reading spot. Wishing each other goodnight, Atris retired to his bed, but not before placing his borrowed book underneath it. At the very least it would be better than tomorrow's exercise.
Another night of deep sleep, but Atris woke up less refreshed and more restless. He felt something was off, some forgotten dream or thought had plagued him, but all he could feel was frustration at trying to remember it. Shaking his head and exhaling sharply he got up and got prepared for the day. Dressing up in that ridiculous tracksuit, Atris headed out to the usual meeting spot for, but it wasn't Frederick who was waiting for him.
Staring at the newcomer the man looked oddly familiar. He was dressed in plate even more so than Frederick; he was like a man encased in steel. Physically he seemed... ordinary, as strange as it was to describe someone like that. A roundish face, black hair that curled slightly at the tips, and his face seemed to be fixed in a concerned frown. Finally blinking and breaking his focus on the stranger he couldn't help but blurt it out, he had seen this man before.
"Y-you're real!"
"I'm sorry?"
"I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, but I've seen you before! You were at the barracks the first day I arrived!"
"Oh, you noticed me, that's unusual. Normally I have to really put myself out there for people to see me. Name's Kellam by the way." Kellam extended his hand to Atris with the former giving him a firm and friendly shake.
"Yea um... nice to meet you too. Sorry, but you don't really seem phased by what I said. What do you mean people don't notice you exactly?"
"It's hard to explain, but it's more or less what I said. For some reason people just don't seem to notice me. I started wearing heavier armor thinking the noise would alert people, but so far, the outcome has been less than desired." Kellam lamented lightly. He couldn't help but be confused at the man's words, how exactly could man like Kellam dressed up like a mountain of metal simply go unnoticed. "Don't worry, you'll understand what I mean eventually. Oh, and there's a spare suit of armor in the barracks for you." Kellam spoke as if he was answering Atris' inner thoughts, until the last bit dawned on him.
"Wait, what?"
"Yea, for Frederick's Fanatical Fitness Hour we don't use the normal tracksuit. We or well I should say Frederick opts for us exercising kitted out."
"K-Kellam you're joking right?" Before he could answer another man swaggered forward and it was a sight that despite knowing them for a limited time, he thought he would never see.
"Oh! Hey, Atris. You joinin' in on Frederick's workout too? Nice, shouldn't just be Teach who's doin' work on the lady killers" Vaike grinned energetically and normally would've flexed to emphasize the point, but that would've been pointless. He was wearing armor similar to Kellam's.
Now so long as Atris had known Vaike, the man absolutely refused to wear a shirt, when Atris asked him why, he had simply stated that it would be a crime to hide muscles like his from the world. Absolutely refusing to believe this, he later went to Chrom about Vaike's refusal to wear anything covering his chest. The prince in exasperation confirmed that whether it was during downtime or in battle, Vaike under no circumstances wore anything that covered his chest. Today would not be a good day.
"Guys... I have no idea how to put on a suit of armor." Atris looked to the two whose expressions deepened with disconcert. The three of them rushing back to the barracks, they or well mostly Kellam began to outfit him. Returning in the same rushed manner, the clanking of metal trailing them.
Arriving back where the group had originally gathered, he noticed two more figures waiting. Getting closer he saw it was Sully and Chrom and just like everyone else was armored up. The prince greeted his friend with a grin, while the red-haired knight simply lifted her hand up in a lazy wave.
It would not be much longer before Frederick marched to them as if he was in part of a formation. Everyone immediately fell into line as he looked side to side. The near constant frown that he sported growing deeper. Eventually the sounds of huffing and panting came from behind them as Stahl fell into line alongside everyone else, a breathless apology coming from him. With a sigh and a shake of his head, Frederick simply went about and set the group forth on the exorcise.
It had originally been around five or so in the morning, Atris had been looking forward to having the rest of the day to study, or just to relax and you know enjoy his life. This would not be one of those days. Frederick's Fanatical Fitness Hour was a damn dirty lie, at least in the sense of it being only an hour long.
The group had started with a cross city jog, with Frederick constantly jogging up and down the lines giving "inspirational" speeches to motivate his trainees. Chrom and Sully were easily the fittest of the group, leading them with little if any trouble. Vaike followed behind Chrom, but it was clear he was a guy who enjoyed using his biceps more than his legs, but damn if he didn't try. Kellam was... where was he? Atris thought on the man's earlier words of people not noticing him, and pondered how in the name of everything a man in full armor could simply disappear, they were in a line for Naga's sake! Trailing behind at the end was Stahl and him, although the tactician even if he was hitting the wall was observant enough to know Stahl purposely was lagging to stay in step with him.
This was an odd feeling, one moment Atris had been jogging through the city in the morning and now it was close to afternoon, and just like the first day of training his body was like a heartbeat. Frowning he realized this was in fact the exact same spot he passed out that day. Looking to the side he cringed and saw that this was exactly like that day. His body was soaked, but not in sweat, it was water. Why was he soaked in water, and when did he change back into the tracksuit!? He needed answers, but try as he might he simply could not will himself to rise to his feet and remained prone to the ground. Three times this has happened to him so far, and it became incredibly more frustrating every time it did. Squinting he saw a figure approaching him hidden in the sun's rays.
"Hey, you. You're finally awake. I know I told you there are better places to take a nap, but I didn't mean on the palace grounds." Chrom looked down at the tactician in a rather critical manner he was not used to. Was his friend judging him? The thought caused his body to shiver.
It was followed by another thought, to simply give up, to quit the Shepherds. Suddenly a fire hot enough to turn sand into glass blazed through his chest. He would not give up, thoughts of doing so were simply unacceptable! Shooting up to his feet with energy he didn't think possible he grinned at Chrom who seemed surprised.
He noticed Chrom getting closer to him for some reason, dangerously close. The prince was really invading his personal space, until he realized Chrom wasn't coming towards him. The strength in his legs gave way and soon enough Atris was sent crashing and tumbling into his friend. The two men laying on the grass a combined wreck.
"Sorry about that..." Atris mumbled embarrassed as the two untangled themselves from the fall and saw Sumia not too far away. She seemed to be almost stuck, her hand reached out as if to call out to them. She was wearing a peculiar expression on her face, but soon after she walked hastily away from them. Atris frowned wondering what the heck that was about.
"Nothing to be sorry about, I should've known better. Frederick's little 'hour' workout is brutal the first time. But you're in luck, he said when you regained some semblance of consciousness, to tell you tomorrow's a free day try to rest up."
"That's generous, but-"
"Atris, don't take this wrong way, but no you are going to take Frederick's offer. You've done nothing but train or study since you got here. Trust me, we appreciate how seriously you're taking things, but you need to understand your limits if you want to surpass them." Atris simply stared at his friend; their words had more than just concern to them. What had he done to evoke this type of reaction, and was he really pushing himself too far? "Oh, and Miriel wanted to talk to you, or if I'm being honest run some tests on you."
"Tests?"
"Yes, apparently, she and Lissa were discussing you some time ago, and you are unfortunate enough to be her latest 'magical inquiry', her words not mine." Chrom had a slight amusement in his tone at that last bit. Although he couldn't help but shutter at the poking and prodding Miriel was going to do but given her obsessive nature, he knew it was best to just get this over with instead of having the mage track him down.
The tests or "experiments" as Miriel referred to them was not as intrusive as he thought. She admitted that Lissa had told her of some of the strange magical feats he had performed. One of which was casting an elthunder spell back in Southtown without a tome, the second of course was the enchanting of his weapon, and finally and much to his surprise the length of his fatigue due to mana exhaustion. He understood enough about why the first two things were... unusual, but was having a particularly bad case of mana exhaustion an odd thing?
The final test had been weird, even Miriel admitted what she was about to do wasn't conventional and had a personal distaste for how archaic it was. However, it was the only way to prove her hypothesis correct. A draught was brewed during her examination of him, it was meant to induce a special kind of sleep. When he asked how he'd know if the draught affected him, Miriel gave a small smile and said simply, "You'll know". With that he drank deep of the brew and found that the world collapsed on itself dragging him with it.
How could he even begin to describe where he found himself? A realm dominated by a swirling vortex of chaos and energy that battered the edges of this reality ceaselessly. It almost appeared that the energy was attempting to escape from the confines of its imprisonment. With a force he was unable to battle, his body was ripped from the solid ground he had found himself on and thrust deep within the very being of this violent and churning discharge of power.
Arriving deep within the heart of the vortex his body began to be compressed and stretched as he was flung back and forth within the borders of the storm. Fearing for his life he did everything he could to fight against the latest sensation that had gripped him. His struggles lasted for seconds, minutes, hours, years, perhaps he had always been struggling against the constraints of this hell.
Until he realized something. There was no pain to be felt from his body's gruesome contortions. To make matters stranger he could see himself, as if his own eyes had departed from his skull and turned around to view him. His mind was an outside observer that had shed its mortal shell. As this shell was continuously contorted it became an infinitesimal speck, and then it became nothing, he had become nothing, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say he became something. He had become the very vortex of power itself.
Using the powers now lauded to him he reconstructed himself within the heart of this place of power once more. The energies that be came under his control. This was his realm, this was to be his power, or so he thought. The vortex whipped itself even more violently than before, smashing and crashing harder than it had previously against its confines. Try as he might he could not bring the unbridled power to be. He scanned the realm he had previously controlled a cold sweat running down his forehead. Something was in here with him.
Atris awoke from the slumber drenched in sweat he found his shoulders pinned down by Miriel who was studying him intensely. Her red hair cast a curtain of shadow over his face as he stared up into her bespectacled eyes. Slowly she took a cloth and wiped the sweat from his brow frowning down at him.
It was then he realized what was happening to him, his heart was assaulting his chest with a feral and crazed beat. His body tremored as the experience of that alien realm returned to his mind. What had happened to him, what was that place, and what was that presence he felt at the very end? Questions raced through his mind distracting him until a light tap to the cheek from the mage focused him once more.
"Your heart rate has increased exponentially; I need you to reduce it. Please proceed to inhale deeply and then exhale. Repeat until said heart rate has reduced to a more manageable level." Miriel instructed him as he simply gawked at the mage. However, he did as was instructed of him and after some time he felt the effects that had gripped him lessen.
"W-what-?"
"If it's in regard to the experiment, I was seeing if you could produce effects similar to a seer. You'll be pleased to know you are in fact one, I suppose a congratulations are in order."
"What was that place? I... just what exactly happened?" Atris asked, his body finally starting to relax as he took comfort in the fact he no longer was stuck in that otherworldly realm of energy. Miriel didn't answer him, not immediately at least. She walked with a hurried gait scanning through various books on a nearby shelf. The mage hummed and withdrew one of the books and began writing furiously in it. The silence continued for some time before she shot him a brief glance.
"I don't know where you went or if even 'where' is the appropriate term to the location. Seers can be connected to many different nexuses of power, many of which make little if any sense to human observation. What I did find fascinating however, is your magical attunement." She briefly stopped writing and gave him another glance. "You're attuned to all forms of elemental magic as well as dark magic. I presume you comprehend the peculiarity of your predicament." She resumed her previous writing with the same fervor as before. Atris watched her in silence for a time before getting to his feet and having a quick stretch.
To anyone else they might've taken pride in that fact, jumped for joy, felt something positive about such a thing. The ability to wield nearly all forms of magic naturally was unheard of. Perhaps it was his own lack of past, or the lingering panic from that realm he found himself in, but he felt unnerved by this revelation. Especially that he could wield dark magic, a thing not many Ylissian's looked on with favor.
"It's unheard of to say the least, but Miriel are you sure about this? Including the bit about... dark magic?"
"Positive." The mage stated with a slight curtness, her nose wrinkling no doubt at the prospect of her being wrong on this. There wasn't too much more to say. Miriel was lost in her own world at this time, and it was quite clear that dragging her out of it would only annoy her. With a quick goodbye, which she returned with an even quicker nod, Atris left her lab. He had a lot to think about, and even more to write down.
The amnesiac entered the room he had long been studying in, or perhaps long was only relative given how long his life had been so far. Taking the three journals he had bought from Anna, he laid them on the desk before him, but not before clearing some space. One of them was to be more a personal journal, writing important things that had happened to him, it had remained blank for now. Perhaps on the journey to Regna Ferox he'd jot down something. The second was a recording of his fellow Shepherds, their personalities, strengths, weaknesses, and the relations he had with them and they with each other.
Finally, the last journal was to be a more lay-man's explanation of magic, and what things he should avoid, things he should do, experiments he had performed and their success or lack of. If it involved magic it was going in this final journal. Opening it for the first time he dipped his quill pen and gave it a light tap to make sure the ink wouldn't smudge. Taking the quill to his journal he began to write.
'This is the journal of Atris... last name pending, but for now I'll just go by Atris of Ylisse. Which if you're reading this and lost your memory, then that's most likely you. This journal specifically will be related to magical abilities and generally anything in the category. Long story short, this is to prevent you from making mistakes and ending up a massive jackass, because you dropped dead in the middle of a fight due to mana exhaustion. So, let's start with the very basics.'
'Magic, mana, the essence, many names describe the feature attributed to the natural energies that our world emits. Notice I said emits, magic comes from everything. People, trees, the sea, everything radiates some form of energy, and everyone at least in theory can harvest this energy, albeit it takes many years of training to do so. Most young mages are trained to have a kind of sixth sense about this energy, at a certain point it becomes as innate as breathing. From this another technique is trained and this is the ability to absorb the arcane powers that saturate the world, effectively most mages act as sponges soaking up this power until they simply discharge whatever excess is leftover. Normally, this is how the vast majority of mages accumulate magic, but there is another way that one can harvest or perhaps utilize is a better word.'
'Just as mana can be drawn from the world, it also can be drawn from within. Some people have a form of inner connection they can harvest from and use to perform magic. These people are called a number of things, seers, mystics, arcanists, and this is the old way of casting magic. There are two ways such people come about in the world.'
'The first way is by far the most common, after so many generations of magic users engaging in relations, intermingling, HAVING children, the bloodline becomes ever more saturated from the continual use and exposure of these energies. Eventually a child is born with the inherent gift of being able to cast magic naturally. However, despite being the most common way it can take hundreds of years for a seer to be born this way and it might take hundreds more for another.'
'I'm sure at some point you've heard stories of people who have bargained with higher or otherworldly beings for greater power. I do hope so, because this is the second way a seer might be born. Blood pacts with greater powers can not only turn the person who made the deal into a seer, but the future generations that follow them. As opposed to the former way these linages have a far greater chance of producing such people, but to be favored by gods and supernatural forces. Well, amnesia or not I better not have to explain how rare that is to you or well me.'
'As to the nature of your own being you are also a seer, although I prefer arcanist, sounds a lot cooler in my opinion. That said I know not what or where our power derives from. All I can say is that I think something lurks there for lack of a better word, and it would be best to leave it undisturbed.'
'Now when it comes to casting spells, mage or arcanist they both must contend with the chaotic and formless energies that power magic. While for more mundane things such as generating light or heat the user must simply focus and project the energy to the palm or wherever, for more advanced castings an object called a tome is required. Tomes act as a guide of sorts, aiding the body in giving these energies order and form. A good analogy would be like starting a fire. Kindling represents energy, the flint and striker would be likened to the person, and the spark from the striker finally would be equivalent to the tome.'
'The typical way it works is you channel the energy, and then hold the tome while the body becomes intertwined with the words of order written inside and then simply release the energy gathered. Of course, the more experienced a mage or arcanist becomes the less they must follow this formula. Advanced mages or particularly talented ones simply need to touch the tome to "generate the spark", and finally there is the possibility of casting without a tome altogether. That said it's an immensely straining (possibly deadly) process for anything higher than low level spells, and the only ones capable of that are incredibly powerful individuals.'
Atris placed the quill down gently and shook his hand feeling a light numbness overtaking it, he liked writing, but he hated how often he had to dip that stupid feather. Rereading the entries, he nodded and just as he did with the quill gently closed the journal. The sunshine from the nearby window felt wonderful on his face, from the weird incident during training this morning, and the even more bizarre place he found himself in during Miriel's test, he was feeling as if something had sapped his strength.
With a firm and quick shake of the head he tossed down the feeling of weariness and opened the journal he planned to call "The Support Log", which detailed his fellow Shepherds. Setting about he began to write about his fellow allies and... friends. He smiled down at each word he wrote; despite the little time he had known them each of them was indeed a friend.
With the final entry on Stahl done the log was up to date. He had more studying to do, and not just in the applications of magic, he still was not well versed in the matter of healing, but he was the group's tactician after all so it could wait. That same supposed tactician of said group had yet to really dip his toes into any of the warfare treatises he had borrowed from the archives.
Yet, he couldn't help but let out a large yawn, the numbness in his hand had returned but something greater was overtaking him. Slowly his arms stretched out onto the desk, slightly moving the mess he had so fondly organized. Next his head drifted closer and closer to his forearms as he couldn't help but get comfortable, nestling into his coat and warmed by the still so comforting sunlight. Slowly, but surely it had come for the tactician and with a light mumble he fell asleep.
Author's Notes
Welp, here it is chapter 3 (or 4 if you count the prologue). I really don't know what to say about this chapter, except writing the Anna part was easily the most fun I had with this chapter. Also, I'm somewhat nervous on the journal section, I didn't want it to be boring expository so I tried having some fun explaining things. Just to answer a question to friend of the story the good Temporal king that we didn't discuss earlier. I do intend to do something special with Morgan.
Next Chapter will be released not this upcoming Friday, but the one after that. I might start staggering releases just to give myself some room to breathing room.
As always thanks to anyone who decides to spend any time engaged with the story, till next time!