Chapter 5
A Declaration Atop The Wall
He awoke groggily from his slumber, his body weighed down by some ethereal weight and he nearly threw himself off his bed roll and onto the cold ground. Mumbling, he tried to wake up properly, but the cool and oddly comfortable ground sapped the warmth from him. There was a growing agitation at the possibility of this being the fourth time he couldn't get up off the ground in the little over two weeks of his recently started life.
Eventually he rolled onto his back and did the last tactic he could think of, he used the rest of his energy to smack himself. His face hurt, but he ultimately failed to wake up. An involuntary groan escaped from him at his predicament. Suddenly a looming presence was cast over him, a familiar patch of brown and oddly neat, yet shaggy hair appeared before him.
"Tired... help please." He called out to Frederick in a pitiful voice. A groan came from his soon to be trainer, the disappointment in it was resounding. Soon after he was hoisted to his feet by the knight who looked at him critically.
"Atris, should you fall over, I will fetch a bucket of cold water." Frederick spoke in a low and threatening manner. Perhaps threatening wasn't the right term, he knew full well that Frederick would absolutely dunk not just one, but several buckets of water on the tactician if he didn't comply. Thankfully he found himself waking up and getting the feeling back in his legs.
Following Frederick out of his tent the two went through a series of quick warm-ups more for Atris' sake than anything else. Fully awake and after a quick stretch the two grabbed their blunted swords and took up positions. It was senseless to wait for Frederick to make the first move, furrowing his brow Atris rushed in.
Sweat lacing his brow and his hair soaked from the exertion, Atris got to his feet once more. No matter how many times he broke himself on the seemingly indomitable mountain that was Frederick, he always got back up. Taking up his blunted blade and wiping the dirt and sweat from his eyes he took up his stance. Strangely enough he found what he lacked in strength and skill, Frederick and he were almost matched in speed. If anything, he seemed to be just a bit quicker. Perhaps, a bit of craftiness was in order here.
Atris shot an arrogant smirk at the knight, to which his sparring partner narrowed their eyes. The two lashed out at each other, their blades clashing, deftly backstepping his way out of the knight's swing; he leapt back into the fray. He tried to hide his smile when he baited the man into a downward swing, and it worked. Catching the knight's blade, his knees bent, and his sword lowered as if the blow would smash through his guard.
With a grin, the tactician lunged forward at the optimal moment, his pommel smashing into Frederick's stomach. A small gasp came from the knight, the air getting knocked out of them as they stumbled back. Flicking away the man's sword, he brought his own up with its destination being at Frederick's neck. The thought of him finally beating Frederick filled him with such a rush.
It would only ever remain a thought though. Frederick, despite being overtaken, recovered quicker than expected and blocked the swing, albeit with less strength than he was used to. Without realization darkness came over him, and then a sudden explosion of pain. Blinking the spots from his vision he looked at Frederick who had their sword at the tactician's prone form. It took a moment to fully understand what had happened, he had just been kicked in the face.
"You kicked me!"
"As I recall you also struck me."
"You kicked me in the freaking face!" Frederick narrowed his eyes at the tactician's yelling, but ultimately his face softened and he sighed. The knight extended his hand, to which the tactician took, albeit begrudgingly and with a few grumbles.
"It was not my intention to do, if such things matter to you. You caught me... unprepared, and instinct took over." The knight stated plainly. It was the closest he would get to an apology, and while some battles were worth fighting over, this one clearly wasn't one of them. "That said you're improving exceptionally." He waited for the backhanded part of the compliment, but it never came.
"Huh, well... thanks for helping me improve. You've been as adamant as I have about improving myself. I don't know how, but I'd like to return to the favor somehow."
"Favor? No, that's- actually if you are truly willing, I do have a request."
"Okay, and that being?"
"It's... it's no secret I'm simply unable to stomach gamey foods. Rabbit, deer, or gods forbid... bear. The very thought of consuming these things fills me with dread, and more than a little nausea. Yet, I am sworn to milord, and the day may come where such things are all that there is to be. I must overcome this! I wish you to teach me to forgo my knightly palette and consume the beasts of the wild as any animal or savage, just like you, Atris."
The tactician simply stared at the knight after that last bit of his bold proclamation. He could feel the throbbing on his face grow more by the second. As hard as it was to believe there were times he liked Frederick, they were rare, but they were there. This was not one of those times.
"Atris... are you okay? Did I offend you in some manner?"
"No, not at all Frederick. Tell me, do you have any issues with more common meats?"
"Oh, no I can stomach beef and pork just fine, chicken also makes for a nice meal on occasion."
"Good... good. Here, I have some jerky. Try this and tell me what you think."
"If you so wish, then I shall do so. For milord!" Frederick near shouted as he tore into the last bits of jerky Atris had on him. The knight's vigorous chewing slowly and surely came to a stop, his face paled and began to take on a green tinge to it. Yet, he managed to swallow it as he came up gasping for air. "By all that is sacred what was that you gave me!?"
"Oh, that was just some bear jerky." Atris spoke with sweet venom, an evil smile creeping on his face as the knight flinched away from him sickened, but he still leaned in close to near whisper the rest to him. "It's actually leftovers from the bear Chrom and I killed, been saving it for a while."
A mixture of gurgling and gagging emitted from the knight as he bolted into the nearest grouping of thick foliage. He knew Frederick didn't intend to offend him with how he worded his request, but the pulsating pain he was experiencing made him rather uncaring to intentions at the moment. Reaching to the right side of his face he winced away at the touch, yep there was definitely a boot print there.
"Call me a damned savage. Still seems he was serious about being unable to tolerate gamey meat." With a pained sigh he turned to go back to bed only to be greeted by a smiling princess.
"Oh, you're definitely going to tell me what happened," Lissa spoke with a degree of perkiness he didn't expect from her so early in the morning.
The young healer's eyes had opened wide when she saw his face and dragged him off to her tent which doubled as a little infirmary. Recounting his little sparring session to the princess, who had the decency to stifle her snickering, at least until the part where he admitted Frederick kicked him in the face. At that point the pain in his face was gone, and she let it out a flurry of gleeful giggling.
"S-sorry, I've just never known, F-Frederick to lose control like that." She admitted in between giggles as she soon steadied herself. "If it makes you feel better, only Chrom usually puts him through like that. Just shows how fast you're improving!"
"I'd wager you're right. Still feels like I'm massively behind. Chrom and you took a massive risk bringing me along, I don't know, just wish I was better than I am." He admitted with a concerned tone.
"I mean, if it makes you feel better it's not just you who feels like that."
"Oh?
"Yea... with Chrom and Emm as older siblings, well... look at me I'm no battlefield leader like Chrom, I've not the aura or grace of Emm. They really set the bar high for me, I just wonder if I'll ever be able to reach it." Lissa spoke without any of her usual energy. The young princess glanced at the tent flap of their little makeshift infirmary, and then focused her attention back on him.
"Maybe you're reaching for the wrong bar though." Lissa tilted her head curious as Atris flicked his hand outward. "I mean unlike Chrom or, um Exalt Emmeryn you have this energy they really don't have, it's hard to describe. Besides, I personally prefer you as you are, some of your more unsavory pranks aside."
"Aw, come on! You even said you forgave me for that!" The cleric exclaimed with a bit of her usual energy back. She seemed to want to say more when unfamiliar sound came from outside. It was like the neighing of a horse, but more melodic in nature than simple grunting or snorting. Scrambling to their feet and rushing outside to a growing crowd, there sat Sumia atop the pegasus from earlier. Her smile was radiant as she stroked the animal's mane.
"Hey, guys... not going to lie, I'm a bit tired, but it was worth it to bring her back." Sumia spoke happily. A sea of grins erupted suddenly as the Shepherds let out a cry of applause, or well they did until the pegasus got spooked and started rearing. "Whoa, whoa guys! Too much energy! She... she still has a bit of a journey to go." She set about calming the pegasus down, still there was no hiding the blush on her face from the approval she garnered.
Sumia was stabling the pegasus in isolation, she feared it wasn't ready to be around the other mounts they kept, at least for the moment. They hadn't set up her tent, at his decision. The fact was none of them knew if she was even going to show up last night, combined with the low morale of the Shepherds, he figured it best to let the others rest. Worst case scenario he would've given her his own tent and slept outside if she showed up last night.
However, with everyone stirring he directed her to Chrom's tent. For one it was funny seeing her reaction to the gesture, and two, despite what people might think the prince was honestly the tidiest of everyone in the Shepherds barring maybe Virion. If anyone's tent was ready for use so early in the morning it was Chrom's. Stifling a yawn as the tactician was sprawled out over the golden-brown grass, a shadow came into view. A very princely looking shadow with their arm's crossed.
"This isn't funny." Chrom grumbled at him, who seemed oddly huffy for some reason. Atris rose from his position and stretched with a lazy yawn before giving his full attention to his friend.
"I disagree, it's very funny seeing you like this. Besides I fail to see the problem, is it the fact a girl is sleeping in your tent, or the fact she's pretty? I could call Sully over too," Atris said as Chrom suddenly seized up inciting more curiosity in the tactician.
"W-what!? Why would you do that!?"
"Fair point, Sully's honestly rather pretty too the more I think on it. I know let's try Vaike. Hey, Vaike!"
Atris soon found himself muffled as the prince threw his hands over his mouth. Vaike looked at them with his head tilted, Chrom simply trying to wave him away as the two struggled against one another. The blond axman simply laughed the two off as he went back to whatever he was doing. Finally free of Chrom's grip the prince glared at him and let out a scoff. Atris meanwhile couldn't help but chuckle and wonder at this sudden change in temperament.
"All this fun aside we should set up Sumia's tent though. I'd rather not have a sleepover if Sumia has to stay in your tent tonight." Chrom simply scoffed again and let out a series of agitated grumbling before perking up and looking at him.
"Wait, why are we setting up her tent? We'll be breaking camp here soon, or did you forget in your attempts to attain vengeance for my earlier teasing?"
"Well, for one Sumia isn't in fighting shape. I mean she could fight, but it would be far from effective. Besides it wouldn't hurt for the rest of us to blow off some steam and give her extra time with the pegasus. The addition of a flier changes things up immensely for us." The tactician explained, but his only answer was a frown as the prince pondered the thought.
"Fine, I'll send out Frederick and Virion on a scouting run. Once they get back though you're helping me set up her tent. Oh, and you're also helping me with dinner tonight."
"Excuse me?" Atris questioned as he looked up to see an anticipant Chrom staring right through him. "Erm, kitchen duty tonight was originally supposed to be Sumia and I. Correct me if I'm wrong, but she's here, isn't she?"
"Yes, and this little break we're taking, was done with her primarily in concern. I... I simply wish to give her more time to rest."
"Coming from the guy who just took a spear to the gut, that's funny. Anyway, I don't know about this. I purposely picked Sumia, because next to Stahl she's the best cook we've got, and I remember nothing about cooking at all."
"Oh, come on Atris! How hard could it possibly be? I roasted up that bear you enjoyed so much! I think I've proven my culinary skills." His friend boasted, and damn if it wasn't working. Atris' mouth was already watering to the point of overflow. Screw it, Chrom was right, how hard could it really be to cook something up? He had a fire tome they could use after all.
Atris spent most of his free time practicing his spellcasting. While the more physical aspects of his training felt painfully slow to him, he could not say the same of his more magical attributes. Spellcasting and even understanding the flow of magic came to him on such an instinctual level. There was a certain rush when the chaotic and formless energies flowed through his body. Perhaps that latter part was simply an arcanist thing, he'd be sure to ask Ricken when they returned to Ylisstol.
His meditations on these energies and the fluctuating stream that ran through him left him feeling completely energized. Biting his lip, he wondered if he would dare to attempt it. No doubt it would be stupid he had even written so in his journal, but there was something in him that drove him to simply become greater than he already was. Setting up a small practice range he took a breath and steadied himself.
It was a simple matter to draw upon the energies that resided within his body, it was another thing to control them and grant them form. Gritting his teeth as he tried to tomelessly cast a thunder spell, the energies that be lashed out as pain burned itself in his body. Struggling to keep control of the spell it finally backfired, and he was thrown onto his back from the shock.
Panting he forced himself to stand up doing his best to ignore the burning sensation underneath his left eye. Letting out a sharp and quick breath he raised his arm once more in another attempt. He didn't know why, but he felt obligated to try again as he felt the power once again swell within him. Something told him that by the end of this he was going to hate himself for doing this.
Thankfully the ground was still as comfortable as it had been this morning. This was the seventh time he had attempted to cast and failed all the same. Blood ran down his chin from a split lip caused by the backlash. He couldn't help feel something was off about this situation, sure he was in pain, but it felt... underwhelming? Still, it was more pain than he was willing to put up with. Getting to his feet he returned to camp to find a vulnerary, that and to silence the growing growls of his stomach.
It took a bit of finesse to get through the camp. He really didn't want Lissa dragging him to the infirmary, especially considering that he knew if he told the healer why he was banged up she'd smack him with her staff. Atris winced lightly remembering the whack he got weeks ago for darting off into the woods. There was also another matter to consider, Frederick. No doubt the knight would be more than sore from his earlier prank on the man. However, he had deftly evaded all his obstacles and was breaking into the vulnerary supply.
Stripping off his coat he started to apply the salve to his body. Vulneraries were rather weird, like little bundles of standard healing magic stuffed into bottles. They weren't as effective as normal spells, but they worked wonders on treating light wounds. Atris could already feel the soothing of his pain and the magic taking effect when he turned around and ran straight into Stahl.
It had taken a bit of convincing to try and alleviate Stahl's concerns over his well-being. However, he couldn't quite shake the man's concerns, at least not until his stomach growled out. The noise cut the tension as the cavalier couldn't help but laugh and offered to get the tactician some dry rations, something he was incredibly grateful for.
The rest of his time was spent reading up on tactics and strategy used throughout the ages, the latest book being about the evolution and now dominance of heavy cavalry in the wars between Ylisse and its neighbors. It was hard to deny his interest in tactics and general warcraft, while it didn't come to him as naturally as magic did, his mind still absorbed whatever he read like a sponge greedy for water.
Occasionally between his readings some of the Shepherds would stop in to talk, Vaike wanting an arm-wrestling match to which he politely declined, Kellam coming in to make simple chit-chat, although he suspected the man was more curious if the tactician would notice him. Atris never found any of them distracting, if anything he enjoyed their presence during his studying. Eventually a red-headed knight came to him with a pleased smile on her face.
"Hey there, 'chef'. Heard you and the captain are cookin' dinner tonight, just caught some rabbits out on the hunt. Could go for a good rabbit stew, been forever."
"What couldn't they make you a decent stew back in Ylisstol?"
"Ha! No offense to the fancy cooks back in the palace, but none of them could hold a candle to my..." Sully trailed off an odd expression coming over her, it looked like she was anxious.
"Your...?" The crimson cavalier's gaze shifted to the side as a deep frown came as she simply refused to answer. It was clear that whatever was bothering the woman she had no intention on saying. "Out of curiosity what happened earlier?" Sully perked up, her face relaxing a bit.
"Oh, that? Eh, heard you ruffled up ol' Frederick, figured he might need a kick in the arse. Turns out only arse gettin' kicked was mine."
"I find it hard to believe you didn't throw him around at least a little bit." The cavalier huffed and gave a low groan at him.
"Nah, Frederick had my number. Still, good job gettin' one over on him." Sully cupped her chin pondering something when she gave out a small and perhaps slightly unnerving smile "Y'know we've never sparred before, Atris."
The tactician felt his body seize up as he dropped his book, and stared wide-eyed at Sully who could only laugh. The cavalier gave him a rough slap of the shoulder before she left. Well, one couldn't be a proper Shepherd until Sully got her hands on you. Still, he smiled at seeing the woman bounce back to her normal self.
Eventually the time had come as Chrom shook his shoulder to wrest him from his reading, the two making their way to the small mess tent. At his suggestion they decided to make that stew Sully wanted, perhaps that would shake the woman out of whatever was troubling her. Atris primarily did prep work with the vegetables, while Chrom focused more on the meat. The prince wanted to catch the dripping fat and grease and try to turn it into gravy to thicken the stew.
It seemed right to him but then again, he really didn't know much about this to begin with. It smelled good, so he hoped that was at the least a sign they were going about this the right way. Still, he couldn't help but notice his friend's anxiousness. After a moment of silence, he opted to try and take his friend's mind off whatever was so afflicting him.
"Out of curiosity can you tell me more about Marth?" Atris asked his friend, who gave him a confused look in response.
"You know as much as me, he came from the sky and-"
"No, as in the historical figure."
"Oh! That's a bit of a long story, you really want to hear it?" Chrom asked as he replied with a simple nod.
With that Chrom began the tale of Marth and The Shadow Dragon Medeus. However, the tale did not start with Marth, but with the man's ancestor simply known as The Hero. The Hero was a tragic figure, their name lost to time. However, they were the first wielder of Falchion, a blade forged from one of the fangs of Naga, back when the goddess walked the realm alongside mortals.
Blessed with this sword, The Hero led an army alongside the Holy King of Archanea to oppose Medeus and his shadow army. After years of war The Hero finally met The Shadow Dragon in the field, their fight was said to have lasted days, and culminated in a duel atop the largest mountain of the continent. It was here that Medeus was ultimately slain and sent crashing down to the earth below.
The Hero would go on to found the lost island Kingdom of Altea, as peace and prosperity soon returned to the land. However, such things would not last as Chrom detailed the second march of Dolhr, the dark empire that the Medeus created to destroy humanity. How the Alteans opposed them only to be massacred by their supposed allies, the murder of Queen Eliza by Mage-General Morzas. The cruelty and oppression Morzas and Dolhr reaped on Altea as the then Prince Marth was forced to flee his home, watching it burn all the while. It was a dark and morbid chapter of the story.
It would be two years before Marth's story picked up again, the land plunged into darkness and shadow, only a few embers of resistance to oppose the all-consuming dark. However, one of those embers was Marth whose burned brighter and brighter as the young prince formed an alliance to oppose Dolhr and banish its accursed legions.
Marth, alongside his most famous companions fought back against Dolhr defying the impossible and winning victory after victory. With each impossible triumph the embers had become fiery storms of revolution and resistance, and soon the dark empire's legions found themselves fighting on every front. Taking advantage of this disruption Marth planned a counterattack deep within the empire from his recently liberated home. However, things were far more dire than the simple reignition of the empire's imperial ambitions. Medeus resurrection was at-
"Can dragons simply just come back like that?" Atris blurted out interrupting the story as the prince shoved him.
"Calm down, I was getting to that part." Chrom shook his head laughing as he took a quick sip from his flask and cleared his throat.
Resuming the story Chrom described these things as the plots of a sorcerer known as Gharnef. A being supposedly who had transcended death and cloaked his soul within impenetrable darkness. Legends speak of how the sorcerer had created a spell which conveyed onto them total immortality, and it was only with the death of a hero that Marth managed to recover the only thing to rob Gharnef of this ability.
With the penultimate battle at hand, Gharnef is said to have ripped open the fabrics of the world and spewed forth an army of evil incarnate. It was then an unknown mage unleashed the artifact that robbed Gharnef of much of his power and his immortality. With the advantage at hand Marth stepped forth and engaged the sorcerer ultimately slaying them and putting an end to their infernal army.
Despite the loss of nearly all his forces Medeus madness continued to grow, as the day of reckoning grew closer and closer. With one last push Marth and his army sieged Fortress Dolhr, The Shadow Dragon's last bastion. However, Medeus had ceased being a creature of the world, becoming something that blended between the material and immaterial.
Lacking the power to truly end The Shadow Dragon's evil, Naga herself was said to have graced the world living once more and breathed upon Falchion awakening the incredible powers that lay within the sword. So, it was that Marth eventually laid Medeus low and cast the dragon back to whichever of the hells it had come from.
Wrapping up the story Chrom detailed the lives of Marth's companions after the war. In particular was Princess Caeda, the childhood friend of the young hero, as well as the woman who had given him solace during the invasion of Altea. It was during these dark times that the princess helped Marth become the leader he would be. It was also during this time Marth realized that one day, he would ask Caeda to be his wife.
If there was one thing Atris came to know about himself, it was that he enjoyed a good story. Even if he wondered just how much of the story was true, he couldn't help but smile excitedly at Chrom who smiled back and looked away, no doubt trying to avoid catching his childish energy.
"Oh, come on. It was a fine story, let me have this, Chrom".
"Heh, fine, I'll let you have your fun. Still, one has to wonder how much of it is true. You'd think if anyone would know it would be me." There was an odd tone in prince's voice at the end that caused the tactician to deflate a bit.
"What do you mean?"
"You didn't know? House Ylisse descends from Hero-King Marth. There's far more to his tale you know, there's his part in the 'war of the heroes' and his eventual reign over the continent. However... those tales are lost as is much of our history..." The tone was more prominent now, and the tactician saw what it was, it was bitterness and lamentation.
Atris didn't know how to respond to the pain in Chrom's words. All he could do was think of something, anything to say or do. It was like with the pegasus earlier, he was incapable of acting. Thoughts of everything he could think of raced through his mind, yet all of them were unworthy. Blinking he thought he heard something, he was definitely hearing something, and smelling something too. Oh by Naga, they had completely forgotten!
"Oi! You're burnin' the damn rabbit I spent the afternoon catchin'!" Sully bellowed at them as they both looked to see the rabbit combusting into flames. The two panicking as the tent threatened to catch fire, Atris did the only thing he could think of. Pulling out his tome, he flung a wind spell at the ground, and it put out the fire, that it definitely did. It also ripped the tent from the ground and whipped almost the entire contents of it into the air.
Soon a rain of vegetables and utensils fell from the sky, the three of them diving under what cover they could find as the culinary-based hailstorm pelted them. As horrifying as the carnage was, Atris couldn't help but let out a childish giggle when Vaike yelped after getting hit in the face with a soup spoon.
Thankfully the actual damage he had inflicted was only superficial at best. It didn't stop just how embarrassing the entire situation was though. How did neither of them smell or see the rabbit catching on fire!? Atris made a specific note that neither of them were to work kitchen duty together. Still, with all said he was glad the only thing damaged today was his pride, something his fellow Shepherds contributed to with a bit of playful ribbing.
Despite the near disastrous events of that night, the Shepherds were in high spirits. The triumphal return of Sumia with her pegasus, and the bit of comedy from the kitchen incident was just what they needed. It wouldn't be long before they crossed the border, officially entering Regna Ferox.
The border between Regna Ferox and its southern neighbors was largely defended by a continent spanning wall. The wall's name and purpose had long since been forgotten to time being built sometime after the reign of Marth, but before the founding of Ylisse. Some parts of the wall still were known, the Longfort being the most well-known by far. The main way of entry into inner lands of the khanate from Ylisse. It was also known as being the first fort to fall during the wars between the Feroxi and the Ylissians long ago.
Regna Ferox, like most of the kingdoms and countries of the world, had been formed after an event known as The Schism. The breaking down of the old empires, kingdoms, and many of the institutions that had come to rule over the old world. The Schism was a time of violent upheaval, massive disasters and finally the thing that broke the back of the world. The awakening of the Fell Dragon, Grima.
The subject of Grima outside of the First Exalt slaying the creature was an uncomfortable notion to talk about. From what little he had gathered from his own studying about the creature, Grima was a being that ravaged the world for an unknown amount of time. The old empire of Valm was scorched and shattered by the dragon, as it devoured the last of the Imperial Family, and consigned the lands to fire and ash. The people scattered and broken, flung to the winds to war over whatever dregs were left in the dragon's wake.
The continent of Ylisse known as Archanea at the time was shown no mercy. Grima had leveled and risen mountains, burned the seas and ocean into cracked and barren wastelands. Altea, the home of Marth, was either reduced to one of these wastelands or believed to have been sentenced to a watery grave underneath the Sea of Galda. The continent was left ravaged and bleeding from the Fell Dragon, its only respite being The First Exalt's founding of the halidom.
Even the far-off land to the east, Jugdral was not spared from the dragon's destruction. To this day it is said to be impossible to travel to the continent, surrounded by dark and eternal storms that smash any ships that attempt to journey there. There are rumors that a foul and poisonous air permeates from the storms, as the only known ship to sail from Jugdral arrived with the entire crew dead. The bodies were said to be contorted into impossible shapes and their faces warped in pain and horror.
Grima had completely changed the shape of the world, not only in a political sense, but had warped the physical as well. It was hard to believe any such being could so drastically affect the world, he almost ascribed it to a creative retelling of history. Yet, the writings had an almost traumatic feeling to them. The stories he read about Grima were not like the story Chrom had told him of Marth. There was no glory or triumph, only fear and desperation. He hoped to pick up more knowledge of the event from Regna Ferox but given what little he knew about the Feroxi, books didn't seem to be a big thing among them.
An unease struck him as he delved further into the thoughts of apocalypse starting monsters, especially with the dead walking amongst the living. As he had done with many unpleasant thoughts, he stowed them away to think of them later when his mind had cleared up a bit. He needed to be as clearheaded as possible for whatever lay ahead, the border was not far off after all.
Mere hours after crossing the border the Shepherds were immediately greeted with a land covered in white, and a cold wind that cut through them as if they were hollow. Atris couldn't help himself when it came to the snow, he simply had to examine it. No doubt having fallen days ago, the snow was a grouping of loose bits of ice that rapidly melted away in his hand. Hardly the almost powdery material he had heard from Lissa. Flinging the water from his hand, he couldn't deny it was still quite the experience though, not as exciting as when he saw his first sunset though.
It was also here he learned how deceptively warm his clothes, or well his coat at least made him. While the other Shepherds had to start wearing more cold friendly clothing, even Vaike was throwing on a heavy cloak, all he had to do was button his coat and throw a scarf around his face and he was good to go. Honestly, it was less the cold and more the wind he took issue with. There were more than a few grumbles as the wind whipped his coat along his legs like it was some exotic dancer.
The snow had impeded their travel a bit, but they were only one day away from the Longfort. Atris and Chrom were in the latter's tent, as the former had questions and concerns over the proposition for an alliance between Regna Ferox and Ylisse. After all the two had warred in the past, given the loss of the Longfort to the Feroxi. Also, from what he had seen of the Ylissian pride in their past and culture he wondered if such an alliance could work with their previous foes.
"Do you think this alliance will work out with the Feroxi?" The prince arched his brow at the tactician's question.
"Are you worried the khans won't adhere to the alliance?" That arched brow had transformed into a deep and thoughtful frown. "So, that's what you're worried about. I won't lie the wounds from before are there, but Emm has done a lot to nurture relations between the two of realms. The khans greatly respect her, maybe not for what she believes in but certainly for how strongly she believes."
"What of our side? I still remember the day Frederick spoke of Ylisstol's walls with such pride, and now we march towards another set of walls that used to be ours."
"I notice you keep saying 'our', already decided on Ylissian citizenship?" Atris covered his face in feigned annoyance trying not to smile at his friend's smirk. "In all seriousness, I don't know. I'd like to think that any on our side that would oppose are simply nothing more than a noisy minority. That said this whole thing is a bit of a gamble. We'll just have to see what lies ahead."
"Well, regardless of what lies ahead, I'll watch your back Chrom. I just hope this doesn't involve me watching it while we fall off a cliff." He chuckled and gave the prince a friendly punch in shoulder, a warm smile and a roll of the eyes being his reward from the man.
"Gee, thanks Atris." Chrom's eyes cast down for a moment, as if the prince was considering his next words. "If you don't mind me asking, how is your memory? I know you've been busy either training or studying, but has anything come back to you?" As frustrating as his amnesia could be, he took comfort not only in his friend's belief, but their concern over it.
"Unfortunately, no I've yet to remember anything. My memories retain more... physical aspects of the world. My knowledge of magic is swiftly returning, whoever I am, it must've been an important part of my life. Everything else is... well it's simply a blank slate. The only other thing that has any clue might be my sword but given its current state I very well could've just salvaged it from a battleground." Atris folded his arms in contemplation. There was a brief and uncomfortable silence in the prince's tent; he knew the next question that was to be asked.
"I can tell you already know what I plan to ask, don't you?"
"It's about the dream, isn't it?" Chrom nodded to him as Atris shook his head. "I wish I could tell you, but I don't rightly understand it myself..." he chewed on the inside of his cheek thinking. "If my presence disrupts things I-" The tactician felt a slap across his face, it wasn't enough to hurt just enough to shake him back to reality where he saw Chrom simply staring at him.
"Stop that, I don't want to hear talk of that sort. Atris, there are many things going through my mind right now, you leaving the Shepherds is not... it's not one I wish to add." His eyes cast down to the ground for a moment in shame before they returned to see Chrom looking at him with a small and warm smile "You will always have a place with us, regardless of strange dreams or memory loss."
The tactician knew his friend was trying to console him, but he fully believed him. It wasn't just Chrom either that demonstrated this, all the Shepherds had. Even that stupid incident with the vegetables had only earned him some light teasing from his friends. Perhaps it was at this moment that the past didn't matter so much, not when he had this future to look forward to.
"That means a lot to me, Chrom. Honestly, even if it has been... well a life mired in the weird and dire, you and Lissa taking me in is easily the best thing in recent memory to happen to me." He smiled at the man, who chuckled at the joke, but there was no hiding the slight tinge of pink on the prince's cheeks from the comment.
A sudden crash erupted from outside startling both men. Rushing out of the tent to investigate the noise, Atris leading the charge. As he stepped out of the tent Atris lost control of his body, his face getting intimate with the ground once more. Unlike last time he found the affair far more wet this time. Groaning, the tactician looked to see his legs sprawled over a crumbled Sumia.
"Sumia? Wait, are you both okay!?" The prince asked startled at the sudden appearance of the woman. Atris suddenly found his legs thrown to the side, a stuttering Sumia stammering out something incoherently. All he could make out was an apology as she sprinted off. Getting off the ground he started dusting the white and wet flanks from his face and body. The snow might provide some cushioning when they walked, but definitely provided nothing when he fell.
"What was her problem?" Atris asked flicking the last bits of snow from his face. Even if he was annoyed by the whole thing, his fondness for the woman trumped that.
"I've absolutely no idea." Chrom sighed, the man looked a bit dejected from her sudden and abrupt departure. Atris couldn't help but frown, if he was a more suspicious man, he might've thought she was eavesdropping. What in the world would she gain from that though? Thinking about it more Sumia tended to act a bit... off whenever he and Chrom were together.
With little else to discuss the two parted for the night, Frederick was stoking the campfire. He was curious who had the bigger fascination with fire Frederick, or Miriel. The mage had once stated 'What is the purpose manipulating ethereal energies if I cannot induce a spontaneous combustion upon our foes'. Perhaps it was the absolute nonchalance she said that statement with, but even now it still got a chuckle out of him. Soon enough he found himself inside his tent and drifted off to a pleasant sleep.
Noon rapidly approached them as they caught sight of the Longfort on the horizon. The thing was a colossus of engineering, the fact the Feroxi had managed to capture this in a full out war spoke either to the prowess of their people, or just how ill-prepared the Ylissians were to fight them, perhaps the truth was a combination of the two. Either way the structure was intimidating to behold, truly a relic of a bygone era that spoke of ancient dragons, fallen gods, and those who would challenge them to save the world.
The group proceeded to the centuries old gate that had stood the test of time, Sumia had opted to stay behind, her steed had improved in the days, but it still wasn't ready for combat. A voice called from above, deep and commanding, it was a woman with blonde hair dressed eerily like Frederick in Ylissian style plate.
"Halt, speak your names or be met with Feroxi fury." She appeared to stand upon a small balcony-like structure over the gate. Atris caught movement from the corners of his eye as Frederick muttered lowly to be ready for anything. Chrom moved forward to the head of the group as he shouted up to the woman.
"I am Chrom of House Ylisse, younger brother of Exalt Emmeryn and Prince of Ylisse. I've come to seek audience with the khans!" A tense moment of silence before a loud snorting sound was heard.
"Truly now this is quite the jest you put forth, "boy"! You scum seek to impersonate Ylissian royalty now!?"
"Our messengers-."
"We've received no messengers of late, best try again, 'boy'. I give you one chance to return to whatever hole in the sand you crawled out of for you own sake." The heat was clear in her voice as she barked her threat down to them, he could hear the gnashing of the prince's teeth. No doubt he was becoming infuriated by the woman. They should've expected after the battle site the possibly of their messenger being lost in the carnage.
"I mean you no harm milady but threaten the prince once more and I will be forced to seek satisfaction!" Frederick stated loudly and plainly, the grip on his lance getting tighter. The situation was becoming more and more tense, but what could he do? Atris was at best a decent battlefield tactician, not a diplomat.
"Again, with the impersonating of royalty. At least you're speaking more like a Feroxi, Powdered One! You wish an audience with the khans, then take it with steel!"
"Damn... Emm is going to be furious over this. Good lady we simply wish-"
"I care little for wishes, only for what one can be take. You wish for an audience, prove yourself 'princeling'. Chrom of House Ylisse is supposedly a talented swordsman, I look forward to this greatly. Here's your first test!" The woman raised her hand as five men appeared next to her, javelins in hand. He took out his wind tome and rushed, but he was too late when they threw their weapons at the prince. He was screaming in his head for his friend, as the javelins came closer to their target.
It had happened so fast; the prince had disappeared in a blur of movement with only a smattering of feathers left behind that reflected the light in the form of a soft rainbow. He looked to the sky to see a pegasus and Sumia atop it, as Chrom struggled to climb onto it behind her. He couldn't help but grin at the magnificent sight as the Shepherds regrouped.
Hidden behind two small stretches of forest were entrances that led to the top where the woman commander lay waiting for them. He saw the movements of two groups of soldiers ushering forth from the smaller. Archers, swordsmen and the famed Feroxi berserkers were mustering into positions. Too many to fight all at once, but if they were fast and aggressive, they could overcome at least one of them.
"Shepherds! We need to strike hard and fast. The majority of us will strike the right side, while a smaller group attempts to stall the other side. I'll be leading the smaller group which will be composed of Virion, Miriel, and finally Kellam. The rest of you will be led by Chrom. There's unfortunately no real finesse in this scenario, we just need to kick the crap out of them and do it fast!" He garnered a hoot from Sully. He rolled his eyes, that woman was happy anytime she was pointed into a direction and told to smash.
"You heard him Shepherds, with that said we're supposed to be here for diplomatic reasons. I want as little bloodshed as possible. Now, let's show them our strength, let's show them the pride of Ylisse! For the Exalt!" The beating of wings as the prince and the pegasus knight took off, the pounding of hooves following them. Motioning towards the Shepherds who would join him he positioned them as a shield against their advancing enemy.
"Miriel, I want a fire spell on that small stretch of trees, smoke out any archer looking for cover. Kellam act as a shield for Miriel, keep her safe from enemy archers and draw any enemies away from her. Virion, focus on those berserkers try to aim for the knee or disable them in other ways." He commanded as a flash of fire passed by him, and soon the welcome sound of a thrum came behind him as well. The opposing archers he could see gathered to volley, reaching into his coat he had to time this right.
The sounds of combat ignited and soon exploded behind him; the first charge appeared to be going well. The volley was coming, unleashing his wind spell, he battered away the arrows from his squad. Withdrawing his thunder tome, he began to fire off the spell focusing down archers. Atris felt the internal strain from his reserves draining as he utilized the spell's unique recharge quirk.
A large shield struck out in front of him as the thudding of several arrows dug into it. Another explosion from the front as Miriel really must've throttled the spell. Gods, he really hoped she didn't kill anyone with that. Still the sound of disarray and panic sounded from the stretch of forest as it was lit ablaze, leaning out of the cover of Kellam's shield he unleashed another spell striking a berserker in the chest, but his momentum kept coming.
Kellam thrust his spear forward, the injured berserker dodging left only to get clocked by the man's massive shield. A soft thud followed as Atris drew his sword and parried a strike from a Feroxi swordswoman, the two engaging in a brief duel until the tactician's blade bit into the woman's thigh, and then landed his foot full force into her gut sending her sprawling to the snow. A weakened thunder spell was cast to make sure she stayed down.
The main bulk of the opposing force was charging them down, in only a few moments they were going to be swarmed. Looking at the snow he grinned knowing they'd be just fine. Atris focused and unleashed an overcharged wind spell, staggering and disrupting the charging formation. Seizing the opportunity, he ordered Miriel to cast a fire spell dead center into the ranks of the disrupted platoon.
With a nod and smile she did just that, an explosion rocking and scattering troops as they tried to reorganize. However, a scalding and blinding blanket of steam erupted from the spell's detonation point and made such a thing nearly impossible, while protecting them from any further volleys. Cries of panic and pain could be heard from the steam, as Atris ordered another salvo of fireballs while he recovered from the last spell. Miriel was only too happy to oblige him.
Despite their best efforts some of the Feroxi charged through the scalding cloud and were upon them. Kellam soon became engaged with another berserker, the two standing on more equal ground. As the berserker started gaining the upper hand an arrow whistling past struck the Feroxi in the knee. Seizing the moment, Kellam smashed the metal butt of his spear into the man's gut and finally brought his shield down on him.
The small group continued their fighting retreat backwards, Atris bringing down another Feroxi swordsman and noticed a berserker charging down Virion. Despite the archer putting three arrows in the man's leg, they continued their murderous advance unimpeded. A memory of the two's tactics game flashed through his mind, the thought of losing the archer on the field during their match. He wouldn't allow it, not again.
Rushing forward he lunged and blocked the strike leading its momentum to him and catching the axe on his crossguard. Even if the berserker was more than willing to continue his attack pain was slowly catching up to them. In an act all too similar to what Chrom would do, Atris launched himself upward and headbutted the Feroxi square in the face. He felt the splash of warm blood on his face and hair from breaking the man's nose.
Suddenly he felt a force smash into his stomach as he grunted out in pain, the man had kneed him gleefully and then shoved him to the freezing snow. The berserker raised his axe, but briefly paused when he saw the tactician grinning at him. An arrow pierced through the berserkers left leg as the man was staggered by this newfound pain. Grabbing the blade of his sword in his hands, Atris struck the man with hilt and pommel of his sword knocking him out.
Getting to his feet he saw Sumia above them as she swooped past them telling them to regroup. Calling Miriel to his side, the two of them unleashed a pair of fire spells to kick up more steam, Kellam dealing with the last of the Feroxi that had made it to them. The opposing platoon was in absolute chaos and any further attempts to organize would be rendered futile.
Regrouping with the rest of the Shepherds who were scuffed, but no worse than they were. Apparently the Feroxi wanted to make it easy for them, one of their soldiers had a key that would open the heavy metal door that barred them from entering the Longfort. Perhaps it was a good thing the Feroxi had taken the wall, as such a thing would only exist on the Ylissian side. Then again, if it hadn't maybe they would've thrown down ladders for them to climb instead. The Shepherds made their way into the fort, Atris leading from the front and holding a readied wind spell in his hand.
A rush of movement and he unleashed it as several men were blasted into the wall, still alive if their shallow breathing was any indication. Reaching the level in which the commander awaited them. She was flanked by her own retinue of guards; fires were leaping from the west of the fort. Atris cringed, apparently the burning of the trees near the fort and that overcharged wind spell had flicked the flames and caught a part of the Longfort on fire. The woman was smirking at the Shepherds, wielding a large bardiche she pointed it at them.
"So, the 'princeling' has fought his way up here. A cunning tactic to distract my forces by setting fire to parts of my fort. Let us settle this one on one, should you defeat me I'll take you straight to the audience you so demand. I don't think I need to explain what'll happen if you lose."
"Fine, I was hoping to personally shut you up!" Chrom shouted through his gritted teeth and charged the woman.
The Commander readied her weapon and blocked his strike throwing him back, but the prince simply rebounded and struck again with the same ferocity. The two engaged in an intense bout of swings, the sound of metal clashing against metal overcoming all, except the fires that licked the skies in the background. The commander was a natural warrior, in a way she reminded him of Frederick. Chrom suddenly smashed her guard down as his fist collided with her face, he went to raise his blade when suddenly he jumped back. The commander had gripped the very end of her bardiche and retaliated with a savage upswing nicking the prince's right arm.
Chrom was hardly deterred, he could swear the prince had let out a small bit of smug laughter at the commander's retaliation. Both of them had resumed their readied stances when once again the blue-haired swordsman when on the offense dashing forward and striking at the commander, again the blows rained down, but unlike before there a strange surge of momentum coming from the prince as his blows seemed to flow effortlessly from one strike to the next, increasing in both power and speed.
Eventually the prince once again parried aside the woman's strike and battered away her guard, again she attempted to drive him back with another upswing. However, the prince's momentum carried him forth and he brought his blade down on the shaft of her bardiche smashing right through it. Chrom stepped right into her guard, his blade raised and poised to end this.
Fear and shock gripped the woman's face as the blow never came. Chrom instead slammed his foot into her sternum and knocked her to the ground. The prince held his blade at point to the commander, and the duel was over. A tense bout of silence followed, the Feroxi soldiers were awe-struck that their leader had lost in a one-on-one duel.
"We've done our best not to kill your soldiers, still if they don't get treatment soon some of them might die. Besides that, you also have a fire to put out." Chrom extended his hand to her, the woman baffled as she stared at him.
"Y-you're really..." Chrom helped her to her feet as she continued to stare for a moment and then shook it off. "What are you idiots waiting for!? We've a fire and injured soldiers to tend to! Move now!" The remaining Feroxi stood stiff at attention before running off to tend to the tasks she had ordered them to do.
"Would you like some assistance? We have a healer amongst us. Besides I was hoping to get off on the right foot with the Feroxi." Chrom asked the commander. She stood silent for a while before letting out a sigh and gave him a silent nod.
They split into two groups, one going to fight the fires and the other gathering the wounded back to the fort. Thankfully their own group fared far better than their opponents, the usual chest cuts on Vaike. Kellam caught several blows to his chest, but his armor absorbed most of it, mostly just tender and darkening bruises. The Worse was Stahl who took a nasty blow to his ribs from an axe, they'd have to see to repairing his armor. Thankfully his ribs were more likely bruised than broken if his breathing was any indication.
When the group had settled down, Sumia finally noticed all the dried blood on his forehead and in his hair. With a panicked yelp she called over for Lissa, both women fretting and combing his scalp for some kind of head injury. After a while he managed to calm them both down and explain what happened, as to be expected the notion of Atris headbutting a man nearly half a head taller than him got a laugh out of Chrom, Sully and Vaike.
With night having fallen he was more or less carrying Lissa to a small room assigned to the princess. Healing magic was incredibly taxing on the body, the constant flow of magic and controlling it wore at both the physical and mental. Exiting the room after putting her to bed, he was greeted by the commander still garbed in her armor.
"The prince must trust you greatly to lead such a small squad against greater numbers." The Commander said with more curiosity than anything else.
"Well, it comes with the job description. I'm the Tactician of the Shepherds, he puts the lives of the group into my hands," Atris responded politely and plainly as he tried to gauge the woman's intentions.
"I'll admit you do the job well. Setting fire to my fort, and then using the steam to blind and throw my troops into disarray was clever."
"Yea... sorry about the fire," he said rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment, but not correcting her about the fire being completely accidental. "I never got your name, given we're on... well better terms now."
"Raimi, my name is Raimi, and you've naught to apologize for. You were simply doing your job and keeping your people alive." She smiled at him, but it was somewhat predatory in nature. "Have a goodnight, Tactician." A simple statement that would make sure he had anything but.
The night was restless for him, perhaps it was the odd smile Raimi flashed him, or the fact that they were sleeping in a previous hostile fort, or perhaps it was how damn cold he was. Getting dressed he noted there was something off, some foul presence in the air yet he smelled nothing. Shaking his head, he headed out hoping to freeze the paranoia out of him and make his bed more inviting to sleep.
Stepping out of the barracks quietly he made his way to the upper part of the structure where Raimi and Chrom had dueled. He had to admit it offered a beautiful view of the surrounding area, well it did until he saw the burned down stretch of trees. Honestly, he was surprised how much of a battleground the front of the Longfort had been transformed into from not even an afternoon's worth of fighting. It was then he spotted a lone figure only barely illuminated by the moonlight.
"Hello, whose there?" He called out to the startled figure as they turned to look at him, it was Chrom who waved to join him.
"Seems I'm not the only one who couldn't sleep." Chrom spoke as Atris joined him, the two overlooking the star-filled horizon. The prince seemed to be radiating with an energy he had never seen before. Whatever was going on, it wasn't anxiety or simple restlessness that kept Chrom from sleep.
"Sorry just everything happening so fast. I simply couldn't let myself rest." The two stood in silence for a while, the only sound being their breathing which frosted in the air. "Hey, mind if I ask you something?"
"I think you just already did." The prince answered with a smirk and snickered at the tactician's groan from the joke. "Sorry, go ahead and ask what's on your mind."
"You said a lot of Ylisse's history was lost. What did you mean by that?" he asked, the silence returned but with a smothering presence that only ended when Chrom let out a sharp sigh.
"I know you've read a bit about Grima. The Fell Dragon destroyed much of the old world's records and history in its rampage. Take the wall we stand on now, its original purpose lost to the ravages of the beast. However, it's been more than simply Grima who has taken such things from us." Chrom started to bite down on his lip as Atris looked at him. There were embers of anger on the man's face.
"Chrom... we don't have to talk about this if it bothers you so much."
"No, it's best if you know... I shouldn't let these things eat at me like they do. A group came about called the Grimleal, a glorified death cult that took to worshipping Grima. As you can imagine they don't exactly look upon Ylisse with favor, given our relation to Naga. For centuries the Grimleal have done everything in their power to secret away any knowledge of Grima. They've destroyed hundreds of years of our history, so many things my family, my people have fought and died for... and for what?"
The embers of anger which had only smoldered before began to burn far more brightly on Chrom's face. Atris shifted his gaze to the man's hand that trembled if ever so slightly, he couldn't help but feel he made a mistake bringing this up. His attention was snapped back to Chrom as the man had resumed speaking.
"For what... for what reason is all this for!? To protect some foul creature that sought to end the world!? The same creature that would devour them! Who but the most selfish and vile of peoples could worship a thing!? The same people who have worked so hard to destroy our culture and history, to destroy the peace so much has been sacrificed for! Gods damn the Grimleal and Plegians!
It was a tense moment between the two. Atris watched his friend's posture tighten; he thought back on the words of Lady Emmeryn of how she asked him to protect Chrom. Was it not normal to feel this way? The truth was he had no context to compare or understand any of this, still there was something that unnerved him about what he saw in his friend.
Suddenly and violently the prince unsheathed his sword, the blade glimmering beautifully, almost melancholic in the moonlight. Yet more evident than the sword's beauty was the ever-increasing trembling of its wielder. Atris saw more than just the embers of anger; he saw rage building in the prince as their breath trembled in the ever-growing cold air.
"Falchion... one of the two great treasures of Ylisse, wielded by The Hero, Marth, The First Exalt. How many heroes have wielded this sword, have fought and died alongside this sword, only for the Grimleal and the Plegians to destroy their legacy! Their sacrifices rendered meaningless! How many heroes has this sword chosen-!?"
Chrom gripped Falchion tightly the fury in his words hung in the air, yet there was something else in the prince. As Chrom stared at Falchion wide-eyed, he saw the very barest slivers of fear on the man's face. What was the prince afraid of? Atris did the only thing he could think of, he reached out and gently laid his hand on his friend's back. The anger slowly ebbed away as Chrom sheathed falchion and cast his gaze to the ground, his head hung low and unable to meet the tactician's eyes.
"Atris... I'm sorry..."
"I don't understand, what could you possibly be sorry for?"
"I'm sitting here talking about my lost history to a man with no past, a man I... might have played a terrible joke on back in Ylisstol." It took him a moment before he realized Chrom was talking about the whole prince thing. Atris took a breath and did the only thing he knew that would snap Chrom out of this. He returned the prince's slap from earlier.
The prince looked at him bewildered at the sudden smack only for their face to soften at the small and warm smile Atris gave him. The tactician didn't need to say another word to the prince, they both knew there was no harm done from the joke. Turning back to the land of ice and snow that lay before them, it was funny he no longer felt cold.
"You know... to say that the history has been lost or destroyed may not be accurate." Chrom looked at him with a puzzled curiosity as Atris turned back to the prince, a glowing and assured smile on his face. "Perhaps it's more like my own memories, simply misplaced and waiting to be returned. Between the two of us, I believe we can do just that."
"What if we can't?" Apprehension and uncertainty in the tactician's declaration was clear on his friend's face. Atris wondered if this failure was what scared the prince, but for some reason it didn't seem right.
"The two of us have taken on bandits, bears, Risen and now the Feroxi, how could we not? Besides, even should we fail we still have the future ahead of us, don't we? We have the Shepherds. That is the offer you made me, right? I hope so, because you're stuck with me." Atris saw Chrom's eyes close slightly, a content smile forming as the prince rested their hand on his shoulder.
"Thank you, my friend. I didn't think anything would give me peace over this." Atris smiled back at the prince, an abundant warmth in the air. Eventually though Chrom took their hand off his shoulder and let out a slightly awkward chuckle as they folded their arms. "I'm starting to think sleep has come for me."
"Alright, I think I'm going to stay out here a bit longer. I'm still feeling restless." Noticing Chrom's frown he began pushing the man off to bed with shooing sounds much to the man's amusement.
With a warm parting the two separated as Atris stood at the edge of the wall and looked towards the moon. He had never really had a chance to take in the glowing circle before him. He stood there for perhaps an hour, his mind cycling through numerous things before soon weariness came for him too. Retreating to the warm and noticeably more cozy barracks, he found comfort underneath the blanket and drifted off to a dreamless and peaceful slumber.
Author's note
Welp, here we are finally releasing this latest chapter. Won't lie I'm somewhat anxious about the Marth story, that said it does have a purpose other than to to show how time and disaster has warped the facts of the past.
To dear friend of the story, Temporal King. I should've cooked the Risen revelation another paragraph thinking on it. In regards to the pegasai, this is a m rated story and it, well you'll see when we get there. As to why the pegasai were brutalized like that neither the art answer or the attempt to scare the Shepherds is right. The actual reason is hinted at in the next chapter.
Speaking of the next chapter, next week will feature the release of a... let's call it side chapter for now, one in which I'm immensely proud of. Chapter six will still be released on schedule.
With that said as usual to everyone who reads or interacts with the story in anyway, thank you. It really does drive me on to see people interested enough to enjoy what I write. Till the next chapter, friends and readers!