Chapter 6
The Carved City
He stared down at the abomination before him. His hands over and over again working at it as he let out a growl of utter frustration. He absolutely hated this to the point of it almost being irrational. Could this be a type of phobia he wondered? Spiders, snakes, water, and the freaking bent corner of pages! He finally gave up and shut the book with little of the gentleness he had come to take with his reading material.
Ever since they came to the north, he ran out of grass to use as bookmarks. The damnable snow soaked what grass there was, and he wasn't so desperate as to start digging holes in the snow looking for it either. Still, he couldn't help but become more and more frustrated every time he saw that stupid crease where he bent the page.
This anger at such a trivial thing might've shocked some of his fellow Shepherds, who tended to refer to his tent as a "mess", with him usually retorting back that it was an "organized mess". Besides, he took rather good care of his books, a fact he took quite a bit of pride in. His grumbling was interrupted by a knock at the door. Looking up he saw Stahl with that familiar lazy smile on his face.
"Hey, Atris it's time we hit the road, we've only one more day till we get to the Arena. Best not lose anymore daylight." Stahl exclaimed, as Atris started packing up. At the very least he was beginning to calm down, his mind thinking about their travels through Regna Ferox.
There was no doubt he was impressed with how the Feroxi organized themselves structurally around the Border Wall. The thing was so wide it could serve as a pseudo highway. Most of the major settlements were built with this premise in mind and so were straight shots from the wall allowing for smooth trade between most of the various clans and settlements, but all roads eventually lead to the infamous Arena.
Some would call it the capital of the khanate, but that wasn't exactly correct. True it was the largest city within the realm, and the two rulers the East and West-Khan respectively would often gather here, but this was because the Arena was designed to be more or less free from the influences of East and West alike. A completely neutral ground where the various powers that be could come together without getting an axe in the back.
The early days of the khanate were marked by constant warring and violence between the numerous clans, which had grown only larger with time. With the construction of the Arena however, the violence between the clans largely ceased as matters of honor and petty grievance alike would be solved within its cold stone walls. For over six hundred years this strategy had long been successful
Thankfully the Longfort had some material about Regna Ferox, with Raimi being rather surprised when he asked if he could borrow a few books about it. "Heh, just take the damn things. Not like any of the soldiers here do any reading," were her words if he remembered them correctly. Unfortunately, no records could be sourced for Grima, and asking Raimi about them earned him an uncomfortable look from the commander. Needless to say, he didn't press the woman any further.
Gathering his belongings, he walked out with Stahl who was throwing on a heavy winter cloak. The thaw season was close at hand, soon southeast Regna Ferox would be an impassible muddy slog for a month and half. The central and western parts of the realm while having their own thaws were not as terribly affected by the seasonal change. Perhaps it would be best if they left from the Deepfort located closer to the border between Ylisse and Plegia and make their way back from that route. It was a matter he'd take up with Chrom later. As of now they were leaving the small way-stop town of Gennah.
The Shepherds were still in rather high spirits, perhaps even boosted more so by their victory at the Longfort. Granted he knew very well that if Raimi had wanted to, she could've made things harder, but for some reason chose to meet them on the field. Perhaps, this was a weakness of Feroxi tactics on the field, denying them momentum and pursuing more aggressive means of attack was the way to beat them. Truth be told it was the only choice on the table at that moment, but it was certainly something to ponder on, especially if Ylisse and Regna Ferox were to work together on the field.
As they traveled, he watched his fellow Shepherds congregate into small groups. It was uncommon to find Stahl, Sully and Kellam apart during their marches. It was nice seeing such a strong trio stick together. Miriel was interrogating Frederick on something that the knight was only too happy to answer. Sumia, Chrom and Lissa marched at the front. Ever since the battle at the Longfort, Sumia had been far more forward in talking to Chrom, and it seemed Lissa was encouraging her. Atris folded his arms a bit of suspicion brewing in him given how the prince had been acting recently.
Virion snapped him from his focus on the prince, the archer inquiring on when they would have another match. Much to his surprise the noble downplayed the glee he no doubt got from thrashing the group's tactician. That said he did mention it enough to successfully bait Atris into launching a fiery declaration accepting the challenge. Some of that fire apparently leeched off onto Vaike, who gave him a hard and encouraging slap on the back that caused him to stumble. No doubt this whole song and dance left the archer very amused.
It had been late in the afternoon when they arrived at the Arena. The sprawling city before them was divided into a series of rings. The first and outer ring was known as the Banners. Reserved for kinsmen traveling to the city temporarily, it reminded him of a massive army camp dominated by innumerable banners, sigils and colors of the clans that had come to rule their own portions of Regna Ferox. Tents were the dominate dwellings of this ring, but they were not crude or simplistic things. Many of them decorated in rich colors or embroidered with great symbols of Feroxi might, valor and prestige. It was such a contrast to the drab land that the Feroxi had come to inhabit.
The second ring was where the permanent residents of the city dwelled, the Stories they were simply called. It was here that the Arena derived its second name, the Carved City, many of the structures encompassed in this ring were made of wood, and while it lacked the colorful display of Ylisstol's dwellings and structures, the district was still a sight to behold.
Many of the buildings were beautifully etched with tales of the occupants' ancestors, deeds of heroes lost to time, and even the stories of the long-forgotten home of the Feroxi, although the latter was incredibly rare, as time had worn these magically enchanted etchings down. Truly every home, every building in this district was, as the district's name implied, a collection of stories. Atris never really had the chance to appreciate the deeper aspects architecture of Ylisstol but he marveled at the woodworking skills of the Feroxi, truly they were masters of their craft.
"Hey, Chrom come look at this!" Atris called for his friend who did a quick jog back to him. "I think this moument tells of the First Exalt." The age-worn structure depicted a lone warrior flanked by six companions, a woman flying on a pegasus, a man atop a horse, a cloaked figure, an archer, a woman with a staff, and finally what appeared to be a man wielding a hammer, but his features were off. It was almost like they were depicting the man as having skin made of stone or scales.
The group had surrounded the spiked dragon, another scene depicted the warrior being breathed upon by the dragon's fire while the pegasus knight threw her lance at it, the cloaked figure casting a spell upon the creature. The entire building seemed to convey the entire final battle between the exalt and his companions.
"I never knew the Feroxi kept any records or even attempted to tell the tale of the First Exalt." The prince looked on in a mix of shock and wonder. "Still, I wonder who this is supposed to be?" Chrom pointed at the hammer wielding warrior that fought alongside them.
"It's a depiction of a Feroxi Old-Blood, specifically Enno World-Hammer." Raimi stated plainly, startling the two as they didn't hear her approach. "Supposedly it was him who led us in our pursuit against Grima, when the dragon destroyed our ancient homeland. Yet, that's a story few know, and fewer would like to tell." She took her leave, despite the clear desire for answers on the prince's face. Truth be told he had some questions too, no doubt many of them the same as his friend, but it was best they continued their mission.
The final ring consisted of only one building, the infamous Arena. A titan that stood at the center and one of the few structures built entirely of stone within the city. There was little in the way of ornamental or artistic work done on the outside. It was a blunt and austere structure which made no frivolous attempts to pretty up its appearance.
The inside was incredibly spacious, and yet it was so... empty. Where one would think to find paintings and tapestries adorning the walls, vibrant carpets and the bustle of people through the hallways in such a grand structure, there was none to be found. Here there was silence, stone and on the walls hundreds, maybe thousands, of weapons of every type imaginable.
There was an odd feeling about the place, in a way it reminded him of The Palace of The Exalt, a mix of a temple's solemness combined with the grandiose of a palace. However, there was no serenity or peace to be found here. The Arena was a temple dedicated to battle, a palace whose royalty was steel.
Of the Shepherds to meet with the East-Khan, Chrom, Frederick, and Atris stood in one of the many rooms within the Arena. Atris shouldn't have been surprised Chrom would've asked him to come along, he was supposed to be the Shepherds tactician, still he also was just some lay about found in the middle of a field. In a little under a month, he had found himself within the Royal Palace of Ylisse, and now he was within the Arena. It still was a lot to adjust to all things considered, but if this is where his journey with Chrom took him then he would see it through.
"I wonder where the khan is?" He said more to himself than anyone else, Raimi had left some time ago to bring their ruler to them.
"Most likely out training, the khans are warriors and commanders first. No resting on your laurels once you sit on that chair." Chrom replied to him, the prince giving their shoulders a stretch. Frederick remained as stoic as ever of course.
"So, what are we to expect? A hulking mass of meat whose chest hair makes him look more bear than man?" Atris joked as the tedium of the wait wore on him.
"Ha! If you were meeting with my insignificant other, you might have had a point. With that said he prefers to wax his chest." A voice called that drew their attention.
A woman had entered the room, near or as tall as Chrom. Her skin sun-kissed and gods the muscles on her were something. She easily put Sully's physique to shame, and Vaike would've been begging her for her workout routine. Her chiseled body was in contrast to her rather soft face. Her blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun of fluff which rested on the back of her head.
"So, you're... you're the khan than I presume? Chrom being the first one to speak.
"East-Khan and yes, I am her, Khan Flavia. Care to explain why two Ylissian royals have journeyed to Regna Ferox?" the khan asked with a cocky smile. They had not purposely kept Lissa's identity a secret, but they hadn't exactly been forthcoming about it either. Proof to not consider the Feroxi lacking in cunning or guile.
"I will, but first I would ask why your border guard would attack said Ylissian royalty." Chrom responded cooly as the khan gave him a lazy look.
"Simple, those Plegian sand-blowers have been sending in sellswords disguised as your people to stir up trouble. We've been rather busy cleaning up the mess from their rolling heads, leaving people like my fine Raimi here rather irritable. We have proof if you would wish to see."
"Plegian bastards! I... forgive my indelicacy your... ahem Khaness." Chrom shouted out in anger before resuming the more diplomatic persona he had been trying to wear. The khan could only reward his effort with a snort of both derision and amusement.
"First thing here prince, the Feroxi speak plainly, and bastards those sand-blowers be. Second your court etiquette stopped mattering the moment you entered our border."
"If etiquette is to be damned, then tell your damn border guard to be sure their throwing javelins at actual Plegians!" Chrom spoke hotly that flash of anger back as the khan looked at him with more interest than before. A grunt came from Raimi that sounded oddly approving in nature.
"Ha, that's more like it! Nothing like the freedom to bluntly tell someone to piss off. Anyway, given your earlier reaction I have a good guess as to why you're here. If you seek an alliance with the Feroxi due to the growing greed of Plegia, then I must disappoint you, it's simply not in my power to make such things." Chrom almost spoke when Atris nudged the prince slightly. He directed the prince's eyes to his right hand where two fingers were extended, and then he withdrew one.
"How would you get that power exactly?" Chrom finally said as Atris now felt eyes on him, not those of the khan, but that of Raimi who watched him carefully.
"There is a tournament to be held soon. Every four years all the Feroxi gather from around to compete in it, gain honor, settle grudges, get a damning amount of coin. You know all the good reasons to fight, but at the end of the tournament there is a match between a champion selected by both the West-Khan and East-Khan. Whichever khan's champion wins gets the title Great-Khan and rules the Feroxi till the next tournament."
"Which you wish me to join and win and for you."
"Yes, but things are a bit more complicated this year. Turns out the West-Khan has become a star-struck choirboy, he wishes to put forth two champions this year. The one who won the last tournament, and a new challenger who apparently floored said winner. So, to wrap this up I need two fighters and I need two that will win."
"Wouldn't non-Feroxi participating in this be... unconventional?" Atris finally spoke up, Chrom shooting him a slightly puzzled look at the question.
"Hardly, these fights if anything tends to be fought by non-Feroxi. After all, these matches are to submission or death, we prefer to kill as few as our kin as possible." The East-Khan flashed a grin at the three of them. "Can't say either khan has ever had royalty fight for them though. Should make things interesting. Anyway, which of your fellows is going to be my champion." Her eyes suddenly became focused on him.
"I will be." Atris answered without hesitation, Chrom's face if puzzled before was baffled now. The khan laughed heartily at the eagerness of the tactician.
"Atris, are you sure?" The prince turned to face him as the two locked eyes for a brief moment. All that needed to be said was done between the two. "I agree, Atris shall be your second champion."
"Milord! Atris has improved greatly in the time he has joined us, but this is... this is unwise. He is hardly amongst our best fighters. Please, milord, I urge you to choose either Sully or myself to fight instead. I mean nothing against you Atris, but this should not be gambled." Frederick's words were full that usual stoic demeanor of the knight's, however Atris had known the man long enough to tell he was panicking
"Atris is capable of doing this. He would hardly have jumped at the chance to do this if he wasn't."
"Milord..."
"Forgive me for my interjection, but I would second the prince's suggestion" Raimi spoke up as everyone, but the khan looked at her. "Strength and skill will only take one so far against one of the opponents you will face, I would look toward cunning, which your tactician displayed during our little scuffle when he held off my platoon with four people. Besides, bravery bordering on stupidity makes for far better fights." Atris didn't even bother to hide his scowl as the commander smirked at him, the khan letting out an amused chuckle.
"By the ancestors, aren't you supposed to be neutral Border-Commander?"
"Yes, but if I see Commander Ramos strut about with that smug look again, I'll be forced to drag him into the Arena myself."
"You and your silly rivalry" The khan shooting a knowing smirk as the commander simply scoffed in irritation. "Regardless, I accept. Prince Chrom of House Ylisse, Tactician Atris, win me the title of Great-Khan and I'll give you your alliance on a silver platter."
The audience continued for a time, as both Atris and Chrom wished to warn Khan Flavia about the threat of the Risen. She had taken the news... differently, whereas most people might have panicked she became furious at the news. Apparently the Feroxi while they didn't have more traditional religious organizations or structure, ascribed heavily to ancestor worship. To defile the dead whether they were Feroxi or not was repulsive and abominable to them. With that last bit of discussion their audience was over.
It would not be long before Frederick spoke his mind in full on the matter of Atris as champion. He didn't blame the knight, in truth perhaps a bit of his pride was making this decision for him. This tournament was how he'd prove himself as a Shepherd. He thought back to that day in Southtown, the feelings of frustration and helplessness, the near murder of Lissa. His fists clenched as these memories mixed with Frederick's words about his weakness.
Atris blinked, the sober realization of these strange thoughts finally hitting him, as Chrom, exasperatedly, was arguing his decision to Frederick. He really hadn't been paying attention to the two, and it was honestly strange to see Frederick protest his liege's decision so much, yet no matter what Chrom supported his decision, he supported Atris. Shaking away the ill thoughts from before he decided that he was going to win this not just for himself, but for Chrom, for all of Ylisse.
With the argument between the prince and the knight having finally subsided. There was only one way for them to go, Khan Flavia was already in the process of formally declaring her champions to the Feroxi clans. Chrom was off to the training area, he wished to get as much practice today as possible and then spend the rest of tomorrow relaxing and likely exploring the Stories. Atris meanwhile was keen on finding out more about their opponents. The newest champion was an enigma, mainly because he couldn't get a cohesive description of the person.
"He's a man taller than any, wielding the claws of the bear that disfigured him. Hides the scars behind a mask."
"Bear's balls, it's actually one of those southern straw things you put in the fields possessed by a spirit of battle, covers their face to hide the straw. Can't beat what doesn't bleed, only reason it beat Lon'qu."
"Nay tis Enno World-Hammer come to return the Feroxi to the Old Land."
"He don't even wield a hammer ya daft jackass!"
"Aye, I know and it's just as stupid as the rest of your answers!"
That was how Atris suddenly found himself in the middle of a tavern brawl. He was suddenly thrown into a table knocking it over and him with it. All he did was ask a question and now he was in this mess! Rolling backwards and onto his knees he dodged a stranger's fist and simultaneously launched himself at the man tackling him. Throwing the man off of him, a nearby woman smashed a chair into the man's back and dived further into the bar eager for more fighting.
The sound of wood splintering, flesh colliding with flesh, people tripping over the spilled beer that littered the tavern. Gods it was absolute chaos, but chaos he managed to escape from unscathed for the most part. Finally throwing himself out through the tavern door he brushed himself off. That was incredibly unfruitful, but he got the name of at least the other champion, so it was something he guessed. Setting off deeper into the city with the name Lon'qu, he made sure to avoid asking questions in taverns this time.
His investigation came to be far more successful and with less chance of injury this time. Lon'qu was a rather renowned swordsman that came to be feared and respected for winning West-Khan his reign at the age of only fourteen. Described as the most naturally talented swordsman to ever walk the land, and that he wielded an exotic blade of deadly precision that he called the Killing-Edge.
Every tale he found of the prodigy described him as an immensely skilled and deadly swordsman, no doubt some of them were simple exaggeration. Still, much to perhaps the bafflement of the people he asked, his smirk grew wider with every story. He knew that he could beat Lon'qu, he was a puzzle with a great deal of clues, and he would solve him by the end of this.
Seeing that night had nearly consumed the sky he decided his investigation should come to a halt. He had much to write about in his journal to plan for- oh hells he had no idea where the Shepherds were staying! Chrom, Frederick and he separated from the rest of the Shepherds the moment they entered the innermost ring.
Running back to the Arena, he found himself getting lost several times. Growing frustrated at his predicament he continued to navigate the maze that was the Stories until he finally found his way back to the colossal structure. It was almost unnerving how silent it was, except for his own breathing there was nothing else. No, there was something else, a clink in the distance. Tracking the sound, he came to what he suspected to be the training area the clink had become the furious sound of steel smashing into something. Someone was here barely illuminated by the torchlight.
"Hello?" He called out to the figure as they froze in the middle of the strike. Squinting he could make out a cape, was it Chrom? No, it couldn't be even from this distance the figure was too short. Atris blinked remembering that a common identifier of the other champion had been a mask or that they covered their face. "Marth!?" He almost shouted in surprise as this time the figure turned on its heel and ran.
He almost contemplated following him, but ultimately decided against it. So, Marth was the other one. How coincidental that was, only so far in his rather short life have coincidences tended to be more than just that. No, he believed Marth was here for a reason. His head full of ideas on the current situation, he turned to have his eyes meet with Commander Raimi.
"By all that's sacred woman what's wrong with you!?" He did shout this time as he jumped back, a smirk plastered on the commander's face.
"Should be more aware of your surroundings, Tactician. Last thing you want to happen is some coward planting an axe in your back during a battle. Anyway, I came to find you. Enjoy your trip to the city? Don't actually answer that, I've come to show you where the rest of your companions are quartered. Come along." Raimi started her march as Atris begrudgingly followed her, he really couldn't get a read on that woman.
The place the Shepherds had been quartered was a large apartment with rooms for each member, as not only visiting dignitaries, but as champions of Khan Flavia they were given a rather luxurious abode for the time they stayed. Luxurious as far as Feroxi was concerned, the apartment still had an aspect of asceticism to it, still he wasn't going to deny it was nice to sleep in, especially when they had just recently been roughing it in the cold.
Waking up not too late he joined the other Shepherds for breakfast, Miriel and Virion noticeably absent. While his talents in other areas had improved, his table manners had certainly not. It was commonplace for some of the Shepherds to bet (mostly Sully and Vaike) who would finish their meal first, Stahl or him. After the group finished breakfast, they began to discuss their plans for the day. Aside from that one rest day they took, today was the first time most of them could really relax, and with the creature comforts of civilization too.
"Don't know about most of you, but the Vaike is going to check out the tavern scene. Apparently, it gets pretty wild out there." Vaike smirked at Atris, as he simply groaned in response.
"It's the Stories for me. The fact the Feroxi have recordings of the First Exalt is amazing," Chrom said with a smile, but Vaike's mock snoring elicited a growl of irritation from the prince.
"Forgive me milord, but they may just be simply stories that mixed with the Feroxi's own. There's no guarantee they are actually true."
"Perhaps so, Frederick, but the sketching Atris showed me accurately depicted the three known Saints, and someone that could possibly be the enigmatic "World Warden".
"Gonna have to agree with the captain. Feroxi aren't ones to claim false glory. That's a sure way to get your arse exiled." Sully spoke rather pointedly as she rested her face on her hand and yawned.
"You sound like you speak from experience." Atris inquired, curious of how familiar Sully was with the Feroxi.
"Yep, home was a stone's throw from the Deepfort. Runnin' into the Feroxi wasn't out of the ordinary." Sully answered with a strange annoyance.
"I know we just finished breakfast, but I can't wait to track down some of the local cuisine." Stahl spoke with a smile spreading on his face as he nudged Sully's shoulder.
"Naga help us if we ever end up on an abandoned island, take you all but an hour to consider eatin' one of us." Sully grunted out as Stahl seemed a bit taken back by the comment. Sully could get irritable at times, but this sudden shift was just weird. He went to ask her what was wrong when her cup suddenly started to rise from the table, rubbing his eyes, he saw it was just Kellam.
"Yo! Sulls your cup's floatin'!" Vaike shouted out.
"Whu?" Sully looked over to see her cup levitating in the air no doubt. "Holy crap!" she shouted as she slammed her hand down on the table in fright. Her hand grazed the edge of her plate causing it to launch into her face, a groan coming from her as she pried the dirty plate from her to reveal a face covered in syrup and bits of crumbs
"Guys calm down it's just Kellam. You think you'd all be used to this by now." Atris took a sip of water from his cup as Kellam looked down at Sully with clear worry on his face.
"No-Show!? What are you sneakin' around for!?"
"I-I-I wasn't sneaking. I was just going to wash the dishes..."
"Welp, my plans are set for the day. You, me training area. I got to wash this gunk off first, but you're helpin' me work out some stress." Sully proclaimed as she stood up to go wash her face. Kellam shot them a nervous look but sighed and relented to be the red cavalier's "sparring partner". Once the coast was clear, there was a number of snickering to be found at the table.
"Lissa, are you coming with me to the Stories? You should learn more about our history." Chrom finally asked Lissa when the group died down a bit.
"I mean you'll make it fun, right? Right?" Lissa looked at her brother who simply stared through her at the question. "Fine... I'll go learn history. Atris, what about you?"
"I think I'll actually go with you guys, but I'll eventually have to head out to train. I've got a few plans on dealing with our fight and I want to work out the kinks in them. Sumia, anything in particular for you today?"
"Oh, no just some reading... maybe checking out the Feroxi bathhouses a little outside the city. Raimi said the area is flooded with hot water that shoots from the ground. They recently found a way to siphon the stuff off. She also said the water has properties that cleanse the body of impurities, its why Khan Flavia's skin is so smooth!"
"Okay, now that sounds like fun! Better than some boring old wood carvings." Lissa said shooting a glance to her brother who simply sighed
"If you want to go with Sumia, I'm not going to stop you. Still, it might do you some good to learn more about our history."
"Pfft, you sound like Emm. You should just give in and admit you want to go too." That was Atris' cue to leave, he absolutely was not going to stick around when the ramifications of that statement hit everyone at the table. Walking with great haste he threw on his coat only to hear the commotion come from the apartment after he left.
Whistling as the commotion finally died down Chrom stepped out of the apartment looking at him with widened eyes and flushed cheeks. Atris shook his head and draped his arm around the prince's shoulders to encourage them to start walking. They did have a history lesson to attend after all.
The two explored the Stories and found very little in the way of what they sought. The occasional depiction of the First Exalt and this Enno World-Hammer who Chrom fully believed to be the enigmatic "World Warden". Still, despite not finding much in the way of written word it didn't dampen the spirits of the prince who had now begun to zealously drag Atris throughout the district.
Eventually the two were directed to someone known simply as "The Edda", an elderly woman who lived in the center of the Stories and apparently served as the chief chronicler of the Feroxi. With a polite knock the two were allowed into the woman's house by the caretaker. The burning of incense and herbs abound in the air, such an odd assortment of smells that nearly made Atris' head spin.
The caretaker escorted them, taking both of them into the basement and opened a door to reveal a massive earthen chamber beyond. Human-like faces that appeared to be carved from stone adorned the walls, their eyes closed, and their mouths set in a relaxed posture. It gave the appearance that the faces had drifted off into a deep and peaceful slumber.
It was also here the smell of the herbs and incense were at their apex here and permeated the air fully. Both men couldn't help but let out a cough as the caretaker chuckled lightly and shut the door behind them. With that the Edda emerged to greet them properly, a tall woman covered entirely within the skin of a bear so only her eyes remained visible beneath the bear's maw. The two bowed before her as the woman let out a long dry cackle.
"By the ancestors, if your looks didn't make it plain, your manners surely do. You two aren't Feroxi, nor are you even from these wild lands. Tell the Edda while you've come, dear children."
"My name is Chrom, Prince of Ylisse, and descendent of the First Exalt." The woman eyed Chrom with an even greater curiosity than before. "I've come seeking the story of Enno World-Hammer. I believe him to be one of our lost Saints, the companions who fought alongside my ancestor against Grima, our only surviving records refer to him as the "World Warden"
"I see... and you the dark-haired one, your reason for coming here?" Atris blinked slightly caught off guard.
"Erm... learning history is fun?" There was a silence as the woman simply stared at him and then started cackling again as her body shook. Shaking her head and calming herself the Edda invited them both to sit. The woman took a breath and sat down; her eyes closed as she began her tale.
"Untold years ago, the Feroxi still lived in the long-lost homeland. It was a place of bestial energies and primal spirits that gave the land life. The land was no paradise, it knew prosperity just as well as poverty, it had been scarred by war and soothed by peace. Yet, it was still our ancestor's home, until the day The Great Devourer came, I believe you call this creature... Grima."
"The land had known dragons as much of the world, but Grima... the Devourer was hardly such a beast of splendor to be called a dragon, a nightmare born from the depths of only the most primordial madness could such a creature come from, and it had come to sow that madness into our lands."
"All who stood against the creature were devoured, our great warrior spirits empowering the monster to greater acts of destruction. Even the Old-Bloods, the wielders of our old magic found themselves helpless before it, as Grima warped and turned the spirits of our land into foul mockeries of what they once were. It was at this most dire moment; our doom came to fruition. In its greatest act of malice and cruelty the Devourer earned its namesake, it blanketed our skies with a foul presence that swallowed the sun robbing the land of warmth and condemning it once more to a realm of eternal ice and winter."
There was something off about the woman, he hadn't caught it till now but the voice speaking didn't seem to come from her. It was... it was like the voice was coming from the room itself. Looking around he noticed something different about the stone faces, they had appeared to take a more defined look. The faces had ceased being human-like and now seemed to be simply human. Despite his attempts to focus on these faces, Atris found his attention lulled once more back to the story.
"With the land laid to ruin and utterly destroyed a single man declared unyielding vengeance on the creature, Enno World-Hammer took forth Silvanus, a hammer forged from land's dying heart, its last sparks of life empowering the weapon. With his thousand Blood-Sworn he pledged to hunt down the monster and end the nightmare. Departing from our families with a solemn goodbye, our last sight of home was the mass of people panickily trying to escape our doomed home."
"Chasing the monster across the ocean Enno and our fellow brothers and sisters of vengeance landed upon the Land of Broken Kingdoms. It was here we first did battle with the spawn of the devourer who had grown fat since the eating of our sun, too slothful was it to face the World-Hammer. Despite great victories at first, too unrelenting and vast were these ill-spawned hordes. We had failed, the last great hope of our people, slated to such an ignoble death."
Snapping himself from his trance to the story, he finally saw it. The face's eyes had opened, and their lips were moving. Their voices spoke in unison, a mix of man and woman alike. It was also at this moment he realized the power coming from The Edda. Was this a fragment of the old Feroxi magic? Were these the spirits of Enno's companions, or perhaps something older that had witnessed these events?
"Until friends from the unknown arrived, a beautiful woman of war upon a winged and horned horse led the charge, a man who radiated majesty and wielding the sword reforged as to carry the tears of the world alongside her. It was here our armies joined together and we pledged friendship to the people of the Broken Kingdoms, and Enno found brotherhood amongst the man of majesty."
Suddenly all the voices died except for one, a deep voice that reminded him of scraping stone. Atris looked to see behind the Edda was the largest face of them all. It appeared to be a man's face, and it lacked the more human aspects of its fellow's, its appearance was cracked, weathered and crumbling.
"However, one by one my fellow brothers and sisters fell, until only I remained. It left me empty; I still remember the shallow satisfaction when I slew one of the Devourer's abominable Pseudodragons. I felt robbed of meaning with nothing but hollow vengeance to drive me forward. Until my dear friend consoled me and grieved with me. It was then I strove forward with a renewed purpose in my heart."
"I will not lie it was a cruel burden to bear to bury all those sworn to me, but to give my people hope for a better future, to give my friends the chance to see that future. I'd bear it until the world itself crumbled. So it was that during our final battle I gave my life so my dear friend and sworn brother could land the final blow upon the Devourer, and so I died in peace, my heart free."
The crumbling face turned to Chrom who was startled by the sudden movement. Its mouth moving, yet no words came from it. Eventually the ruined face simply nodded to the prince whose face had been robbed of all color. It was not long before the face closed its eyes and resumed its rest once more.
Atris felt a sense of whiplash as he was tossed back into the mundane room which still smelled strongly of incense, the faces little more than ornaments at this point. The Edda before them appeared to be on her hands and knees, her body shaking. Both men rushed to help steady her as she reached up and took each by the shoulder.
"Thank you... kindly boys... my bones are too old, and the land too... stretched to commune for long."
"I... I wish you didn't strain yourself so much Lady Edda." Chrom's lips twitched as he finally relented. "I'm so sorry to ask you this, but what was that?" The Edda looked directly into the prince's eyes.
"The land remembers a great deal, and its memory is long. Great people and great acts leave a long-lasting effect upon it. However, one should think on what 'great' means, there are great triumphs and great tragedies alike. Remember this well, dear children. Now... forgive me I must rest, please if you would take your leave."
They both nodded to her and gave her another bow in respect as the woman's humor surged up again in a coughing cackle. Exiting the Edda's home, Atris took in a gulp of fresh air to clear his head, while Chrom simply took a seat on a nearby bench. The tactician turned to the man, there was no dodging the conversation to be had.
"So, what did you make out of it? How much do you think is true?"
"I rightly don't know, that was a lot to take in. I think Enno is in fact one of the Saints." Atris gave a questioning look that Chrom smirked at. "Small details to answer your question. The woman they spoke of was Saint Illyria, and it identified her in ways only someone versed in the records would be. There are other things as well, things we thought legend that might now be true."
The satisfied and content smirk that had graced the prince's face suddenly ceased to be, the man's eyes cast low as his features became darkened and more pensive. Atris frowned at the sudden change in temperament in his friend and gave the man a light kick in the boot in jar him from his state.
Chrom, are you okay?
"I... you didn't hear Enno's last words?"
"You mean about his heart being set free?" The prince's features darkened once more as they shook their head in response.
"Atris... there's something I need to tell you, not now though. Once we return to Ylisstol, I'll tell you." The tactician extended his hand to the prince who took it and smiled, their face seeming to brighten up if only slightly as they stood.
"I understand, that said whatever is bothering you I'm here for you, you're stuck with me after all."
"I think we're stuck with each other honestly." Chrom only half joked, unfortunately, as much as he wished to spend more time with his friend, the prince had much to think about, and he had training to do. Thankfully the sun had yet to reach its zenith and so he set out to tackle what seemed even more impossible than beating Frederick.
He made his way out of the city to a secluded part of the massive forest that surrounded the Carved City. Gathering some sticks, rocks and other material to use a makeshift range, he also began to clear the area of snow with a few wind spells, last thing he wanted was to be cold and soaked because the backlash knocked him into this slush. With that he started casting some spells as a type of warm-up and found his control over them effortless as ever.
However, he needed every trick under his sleeve he could get. He had done it once, and with a moderately powerful spell, and he was going to do it again. Raising his hand, he focused on the latent energies within him. That part came easily as ever, he tried to force that energy into the desired shape, the desired effect. He felt pain surge in his body as he gritted his teeth in the hopes he wouldn't bite off his tongue. Suddenly he was thrown to his back as the backlash hit him hard. It took a few moments before his body stopped feeling like it was on fire, but he stood up and prepared himself again.
"Damn... why did it hurt so badly this time?" Atris muttered stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders to work out the pain. With a shake of his head, he went back to his attempts.
Time and time again just as before he failed, his body burning as pain engraved itself into him. How many times had he failed to tomelessly cast, he had no idea. His breath came in ragged bouts, and his body trembled from the pain and energy sapped from him. In frustration he slammed his fist on the wet ground. Where was he going wrong, he felt so close for some reason, and yet so far.
Blood dripped below him from yet another split lip with a nosebleed adding to it this time. Removing his left glove, he found the skin of his palm was rough, the flesh slightly singed and raw. A pained and frustrated sigh escaped him as he squeezed his hand and tried to focus the pain away. A snap of a branch startled him as he slipped back on the glove and turned to see Stahl behind him, with what appeared to be a box in hand.
"Sorry, if I startled you. I was trying to be way noisier than I was." The cavalier gave a light chuckle and scratched his cheek.
"You didn't startle me, thankfully none of us take after Kellam." Atris joked back with a light if awkward smile to match. The green cavalier took a seat on a rather large rock near him. "Out of curiosity how come you're here? Is everything okay Stahl?" The tactician didn't want to meet the man's eyes.
"Oh, yea. Everything's okey-dokey. Figured you'd be at this again, so I tracked you down to bring you lunch. Let me tell you, these guys work game meat like it's an art! I, uh also might've brought a few vulneraries as well." Stahl said taking out a couple of sandwiches and a few bottles alongside them.
Looking to the sky he saw that the sun had long since reached its apex and was traveling to the west. How had he so badly lost track of time? Turning back to Stahl, he simply shrugged and gave a confident smile as the cavalier set about healing his wounds and dividing up their lunch. The two soon getting lost in conversation as they ate.
Atris always appreciated how Stahl had this aura of relaxation around him. It was easy to simply forget things and just let the world cradle you to rest around him. Even Sully, who was as dedicated as they come, had been found taking a nap alongside the green cavalier. The sight had been absolutely precious to see them both sprawled out, their snores competing to drown the other's out.
"I wish you wouldn't push yourself so hard, if the others knew they'd be just as worried." Stahl's words snapped him out of the recent memory. Taking a bite out of his second sandwich he noted there was some kind of vegetable paste spread on it. It had a sweet and slightly savory taste to it.
"I want to argue with you on this... but you're right," he finally said after swallowing. His hand felt his lip that had recently been healed. "Still doesn't change the fact I've got to get better."
"But you have gotten better, Atris. This though... y-you're just hurting yourself." The tactician tried his best to hide feelings on the matter. "If this is about the tournament you shouldn't worry that much. We know you can do this!"
As much as he appreciated Stahl's confidence there was a knot in his stomach, and he didn't know why. Atris finished off his sandwich and thought about it more, was this because of the tournament? That was the initial reason he had told himself, yet now, something simply didn't feel right about that reason. No, there was something else bothering him, something he couldn't quite pin down.
The tactician closed his eyes and tried to truly feel the situation out. It was hard to describe, like there was some ill charge pervading through the air. Frustration gripped him as he couldn't understand what was going on. In a way it almost reminded him of how some animals can "sense" an impending natural disaster such as an earthquake. The knot tightened again as he simply wished to distract himself from the feeling, his thoughts went to that night atop the wall.
"Stahl, what do you think of Plegia?" The cavalier turned to him, his eyes a bit wide and his mouth slightly agape.
"W-what?" It took a moment before the man frowned and cast an uneasy glance to the ground. "That's... that's an awkward subject, Atris."
"We both know I don't know why it would be." A light sigh came from Stahl, but ultimately he relented and gave his full attention to Atris. Stahl's face was... he had never seen the man with such a dire look before, it unnerved him.
"Plegia... Plegia and Ylisse have warred and fought with each other since... since forever it seems honestly. However, the last war, the one which Chrom's father started was horrible, Atris." Stahl's face slackened somewhat as he faced away from the tactician and then hardened once more. "Most of us were just born when the war started and were barely kids when it ended."
The cavalier looked to the ground his eyes narrowed as the man fidgeted with his hands. "My father and my uncle went off to fight. My uncle, he never returned and my father... whenever I think about him the first thing I think of is his eyes. All the people I knew who fought in the war had the same lack of light in their eyes. Sometimes he'd involuntary stop what he was doing and simply stare off into the distance, like the world stopped being. It was like he was walking, but not living if that makes any sense."
"I'm... sorry Stahl, I didn't know. I'm sorry..." The cavaliers's gaze still fell upon the ground before them, his face somewhat softening but their despondency never left.
"I know, but perhaps it's best you did. I'm just not the best one to tell you about it. Honestly, I don't know who could even begin to describe the horror of that war, or the misery that followed it." A pitiful chuckle fell from the viridian knight's lips. "I never even answered your question. I guess... I guess I'm scared of Plegia, I'm scared of what's around the corner."
Seeing the fear in Stahl's eye, it was more than he could take, more than he would allow. Atris reached over and took the cavalier's arm holding it up as the man looked on in gloomy curiosity. The tactician then slapped his hand into the knight's gripping it tightly, Stahl reflexively gripping back much to cavalier's surprise.
"I don't know what lies around the corner, but I'll stand by you, Stahl. We all will." The cavalier's mood finally relented as he nodded firmly.
"I'll hold you to that. Y'know all this doom and gloom isn't really for me; do you want to get out of here?" The tactician nodded to him with both men departing both the makeshift range and their bleak conversation.
Despite the aid of Stahl's salves, he still wasn't in fighting shape, which meant he needed to visit Lissa. It took a moment to calm her down when he told her why he was hurt, still she set about healing him, albeit with more than a few grumbles. Normally, Lissa would've tended to the injuries by kick starting the healing process and mostly letting nature work its course, but wounds from magic and especially backlash.
"Y'know if you weren't hurting already, I'd absolutely give you a whack with my staff. Besides it'd be irresponsible to hurt one of our champions before the fight. Pretty irresponsible to hurt one of them, yep." Lissa passively aggressively scolded him. He couldn't help but chuckle that the prankster princess was in the right on this. Her puffed out cheeks of indignation only encouraged more laughter until he felt a smack from her hand on the back side of his head.
"Sorry, sorry, just you're right. It feels odd being lectured by you. Feels like the roles should be reversed a bit."
"Heh don't worry I'll be sure to give you a reason to lecture me soon. Get some sleep Atris. We'll be rooting for you both!" He appreciated the sentiment, but not so much the actual thought of what Lissa had in store for him. His body fell onto the bed, and the worries and anxiety he had earlier in the day seemed so far away now. Soon enough they dissipated entirely, and he lost himself to sleep.
He was walking with Khan Flavia and Chrom, an energy in his step that he hadn't had before. Normally he didn't have good dreams, but he must've had a great one last night. The rest of the Shepherds were taken to the stands to watch the fights, while they were to meet the West-Khan and his two champions. The other khan was pretty much as he expected him to be, a dark-skinned mountain of a man taller than any he had ever seen, an eyepatch adorned his left eye, and he sported a neatly trimmed goatee that ended in three sharp points like a trident. Beside him were his two champions.
Lon'qu was around the same height he was, rather lithe and having a very athletic build, with hair that was a bedraggled mess of dark brown locks that ended in rather sharp tips to match their eyes. The Feroxi wore a long blue coat that ended in three tails, the rather short sleeves of the coat trimmed with white fur. A deep red sash was tied around his mid-section kept the coat bound together. At their side was a single sword, its hilt rather large compared to the blade. The crossguard was a small circle-like design, definitely a sword that favored more aggressive thinking.
To the right of the West-Khan it was just as he thought, Marth. Their ally from the forest now stood opposed to them, or so it seemed anyway. Marth for a brief moment seemed taken aback to see him as one of Khan Flavia's champions. A man who took the persona of an ancient hero to the people of Ylisse would now stand against their prince. It'd be poetic if Chrom was a lesser man.
"So, we've got the Prince of Ylisse, nice Flavia. Who's the other one though?" The opposing khan spoke with a deep voice the seemed to crackle with amusement.
"Don't know, calls himself a tactician. Beyond that its none of my business." Khan Flavia retorted with a bit of bite in her words.
"Ha, someone seems a bit overeager this year! Let's get this over with, my chair is missing me fiercely. Let the first to fight step forward." The khan ordered as Lon'qu stepped forward first, just as Atris predicted the man would. He stepped forth as the two of them started to size the other up.
"Looks like its Lon'qu vs Atris. Come now, champions. We've got time to kill and matches where people could be killed!" West-Khan bellowed out a laugh and departed as Lon'qu took several more moments to stare down Atris, a condescending scoff escaping from the swordsman as he left to join with his khan. Naturally all Atris could do was smile; his opponent was exactly how he envisioned him.
"Pretty brave stepping up like that. I was almost thinking you'd hide behind the prince and go second," Khan Flavia taunted lightly as Atris didn't even respond, but simply glared at her presumption of him, out of the corner of his eye he caught Chrom giving her the same glare. A bark of laughter came from the woman. "I'm beginning to like the look of defiance on both your faces more and more. At least I chose well in spirit!" It was hard to tell if she was genuinely testing them at times, or if this was like an extreme version of how the Shepherds teased each other at times.
They were seated on a balcony overlooking the Arena's field of battle, directly across from them was the West-Khan and his champions. The actual combat area and the stands that accompanied it was... it was massive on a scale he had never seen. The field was large enough that entire hosts of cavalry could engage in battle freely. Hundreds if not thousands of Feroxi cheered or jeered from the stands, their sounds deafening the clash of metal that came from below.
Team battles, grand melees where the last standing was declared the winner, entire clans facing off against one another in matters of honor and vengeance. It was quite the sight to take in, and just as important he witnessed how the Feroxi fought. If only he had the foresight to bring some writing material. Suddenly a horn blared, the deep rumble vibrating his body as it hung in the air for almost a minute. Looking at Khan Flavia, she sat there smirking.
"I am Khan Basilio, Khan of the West. My chosen of battle, Lon'qu!" A voice cut through the Arena and filled the massive void of silence that had been left behind by the horn. He could see Lon'qu descend a set of stairs that were carved into the balcony and connected directly to the field.
The silence had been smothered underneath the explosion of cheers that burst from the stands as Lon'qu took his position. Another blowing of the horn deafened the chaotic roars of the crowd, repeating until the noise died down. Slowly Khan Flavia stood and suddenly her voice ripped through the air the same way Basilio's did.
"I am Khan Flavia, Khan of the East. My chosen of battle, Atris!" She turned to him and nodded at him. Atris rose and walked down the stairs, unlike before the Arena was completely silent, except for the Shepherds who were doing their best to make a rowdy ruckus for him. He had to suppress the urge to chuckle at how contrasting it was to the utter silence that engulfed the rest of the Arena.
Taking his position, he stood around ten or so feet from Lon'qu, the swordman's hand resting on the hilt. He drew his own sword and exhaled, steadying himself. The two stared each other down just as before. There was an itch in his hand, but his breath remained steady, he wouldn't lose here. Finally, the silence once more died as the horn sounded for the match to begin.
Lon'qu rushed him drawing his blade with a quick and efficient movement that caught him off guard. Atris brought his own just barely deflecting the blow as the two clashed, he hadn't expected this kind of speed from the swordsman. The two exchanging blows as Lon'qu evaded to the side dodging his slash and retaliating with one of their own. Once again, Atris only barely managed to deflect the blow. The Feroxi narrowed his eyes as the two circled one another.
It was his turn to go on the offense, charging in Atris brought his blade down on Lon'qu's as the two collided again and again, sparks flying off their blades. Lon'qu leapt backward dodging his slash and then lunged forward in one smooth and quick movement. The blade cut shallowly into Atris' thigh, the warm liquid trickling down his leg. The crowd's cheers were back and pounding in his head. Once more the two circled each other, without a doubt he was outmatched when it came to skill. Time to end that little disadvantage.
"Wow, so that's the bite of the infamous Killing-Edge? How about we do this again?" He said dropping his stance with a confident smile, a contrast to his opponent's scowl as the latter charged. Once more they clashed several more times, until he caught the sword on his crossguard. "Yep, the bite of a child, I shouldn't be surprised though given the stupid name."
A flash of fury spread across the swordsman's face as they pressed him back, but as he predicted the proud warrior's anger hampered his more precise movements. He slashed at the man's legs as the swordsman leapt forward over the blade and lashed out wildly cutting into cloth of his shirt, and barely missing him. The Feroxi was absolutely dedicated to trying to push the offensive no matter his position. The tactician in him could only grin as they saw what the swordsman's downfall would ultimately be.
"Did I say child, I meant a toothless infant with that last attack." He taunted once more as the two locked their blades, despite the Feroxi's anger, the tactician for once had the advantage in strength. Pushing the swordman's blade down, he slammed his body into Lon'qu's sending the swordsman back. The crowd's noise was dying down as the favorite in the match gave him ground.
"Jeez, must be infuriating to get your ass kicked by two strangers, what was the point of your training again?" His voice radiating smugness in his attempts to goad his opponent. The swordsman charged in with a speed that once more almost caught him off guard, but the man's anger had affected his precision. The Feroxi attempted to smash through his defense with a wild strike, a harsh and guttural growl emitting from them.
Atris saw the moment and seized it and caught his foe's sword, as he performed the same trick that caught Frederick off guard. His pommel connected with the gut of the Feroxi, a large gasp of air evacuating them. There was no hiding his satisfaction as the blow connected, unlike Frederick, Lon'qu didn't have the same bulk to shrug off this attack. Breaking through his opponent's guard, his sword struck at the man.
He caught sight of it at the last moment, the glint of steel coming his way as Lon'qu instinctually leapt back with a last-minute retaliatory slash. Both swords had found their mark. Atris had left the Feroxi with diagonal slash across chest, while he felt Killing-Edge cleanly slice across the right side of his forehead.
The two stared at each other, as he felt the blood start to run from the wound and flow towards his eye. Lon'qu's own cut had started to bleed through into his clothes. The Arena was silent as the two continued their duel through their eyes. Rising to his feet and resuming his stance, his grip tightened around his sword at what he saw. The swordsman was smiling ever so slightly at him.
"Perhaps your words have some merit. To fall to such an asinine ploy." The swordsman's eyes narrowed and the scowled returned. "I guarantee it won't work again!" Lon'qu declared with an air of viciousness.
The swordsman charged him down holding their blade parallel to their body. An opening thrust followed by a relentless series of slashes that drove Atris back. Gritting his teeth, he simply couldn't handle the whirlwind of steel the Feroxi was throwing at him. It wasn't long before he felt an all too familiar rush of pain.
The Feroxi's blade had slashed him across his chest, the same spot that they missed earlier in their anger. Damn it, he had to win back some form of ground! The tactician lunged forward tangling his blade with his opponent's. After a brief bout, he allowed himself to be disarmed and feigned a fall to the ground. Atris let his foe smell blood in the water, not even doubting if they'd go for the kill.
As the Feroxi took the bait and jumped forward, their blade poised to end the match, Atris reached into his coat mid-fall. He was curious which came first, his grin or Lon'qu's sudden realization they had fallen into his trap. Jutting his hand forward, the energy tore forth and emitted a crack loud enough to be worthy of the spell's name. The swordsman was struck and sent crashing to the ground as Atris swiftly recovered from his false fall.
Drawing his thunder tome out he spotted the Feroxi on the ground some ten or so feet away a small trail of smoke coming from their chest. Gods, he hoped he hadn't killed the guy. Atris stepped forward as Lon'qu suddenly brought their knees to their chest and kipped-up, holding Killing-Edge parallel to the ground. The man swayed as they tried to steady themselves, at the very least the swordsman was definitely hurting.
"Y-you can cast spells!?" He wheezed out as Atris grinned at him. Once again, a spark of anger flashed across the man's face as he charged down the tactician. Atris unleashed another thunder spell, his eyes widening in panic as the Feroxi ducked mid-charge and seemingly dodged the spell. How in the hells did he dodge it!?
Before he could fire off another spell Lon'qu was on him, as Atris dodged the leaping slash and then the thrust that followed it, but the second slash, there wasn't enough time. He did the only thing he could think of. Atris used his tome to catch Lon'qu's blade, the sword slicing half-way into the tome before it finally came to a halt. With little other options left to him, the tactician sprung forth tackling the swordsman to the ground, Killing-Edge clattering to the ground.
"I liked that tome, damn it!" Atris shouted as he grabbed Lon'qu by the cuff and smashed his fist into their face several times. As he went to vent the loss of his tome once more, the Feroxi brought up their elbow to block the strike. Staggered slightly he felt the man seize his shirt as they brought their head up and crashed it into him.
"Then join it, fool!" The swordman roared back throwing the tactician off of him. The two scrambled for their chosen weapons, Lon'qu his sword, and Atris his wind tome. As he got to his knee the spell charged in his hand, the swordsman was already on him, the blade even closer. Atris unleashed his wind spell blasting the Feroxi back mid-slash.
So close, the color of steel had come so close, the edge of a razor was all that separated them. Atris forced himself to blink several times out of his left eye as he trembled. Lon'qu had nearly cut the damn thing out. Rising to both feet now, he tried to steady himself as he focused both eyes on the swordsman. There was no hiding both men were reaching their limit.
"Well, I guess you got your answer about spells. There's no denying we're both hurting really bad right now, so let's end this knowing who beat who." The Feroxi eyed him with suspicion as Atris could only smirk at his opponent. "My spell vs your sword, one final charge to end this all!"
The two stood in silence, Atris charging his wind spell, he already knew what his next attack would be. As much as he didn't want to admit it, perhaps there was some truth to Raimi's comment about him. What he was about to do definitely bordered on bravery into stupidity. Still, if Lon'qu could dodge a thunder spell, there was no doubt he could dodge a fire one as well. This had to be an attack certain to hit. The swordsman finally replied to his challenge with a simple nod and rushed forward.
He stood there defiantly, before the charging Feroxi. His thoughts were of his opponent, prideful, aggressive, always needing to be on the offense, probably to prove himself. Guess they had that last bit in common. It didn't change the fact he had been studying the Feroxi the entire time, the position of their sword, the way they moved, the swordsman's next strike would be a horizontal slash. As Lon'qu was on him ready to deliver the blow, Atris' breath hitched, and he ducked unleashing the wind spell beneath him and launched himself into his opponent.
However, his timing was just slightly off, and his opponent just too fast. Ducking just a bit too early, Lon'qu had the briefest chance to follow up his attack as the two crashed into one another. Atris felt his head smash into the Feroxi's underjaw an audible crack sounding out, however his right shoulder ran straight into the man's blade cutting into the tissue and muscle alike. Lon'qu was catapulted to the ground almost skidding on the floor, as Atris fell prone barely a foot away from where he launched himself.
The pain was blinding as the tactician had to blink away the tears and focus his vision back to normal. He slammed his fist onto the stone floor, anything to distract him from the pulsating and violating pain that had ripped through his shoulder. Struggling to get up his breath came in ragged bouts, the flowing warmth slowly engulfing his shoulder.
At least he won, there was no way the Feroxi that was getting up was in any way capable of-. Atris blinked to make sure he was seeing things correctly. Lon'qu was getting up, he was actually getting up! As the tactician gaped at the struggling swordsman the only thing he could think was-.
"The hells is you deal!? Are you insane!?" the swordsman tried to say through his no doubt broken jaw. The swordsman swayed almost drunkenly as they tried to steady themselves.
Atris stared blankly at the man shouting his own thoughts at him, but he didn't bother responding and charged the shocked Feroxi. The tactician had to end this before he either passed out or bled out. Charging up a fire spell, he blanketed both of them in a cloud of smoke. With his good arm he conjured a wind spell and held it. One last gambit, one last chance to end this. Atris coughed and not long after a whip of wind sliced downward knicking his knee.
Dodging the next blow as an outline barely visible in the smoke became known to him. He had to goad him into doing what he wanted, he had to end this now. Using his injured arm and fighting through pain as tears came back to his eyes, he summoned up a fire spell and flung it at the Feroxi's legs. Lon'qu leapt forward clearing the sluggish attack, no doubt seeking an end to this fight once and for all.
Atris wondered what Lon'qu thought when they felt no heat from the attack, the attack had been a second smoke screen. It didn't matter this was over now. Catching his opponent mid-air, he unleashed his wind spell with everything left he had in him. The savage gale swept up Lon'qu and launched them across the arena, the cloud of smoke nearly dispersing from the spell. The tactician watched the swordsman crash once more into the ground, Killing-Edge liberated from their grasp and clattered away.
Clutching his bleeding shoulder, Atris struggled to walk to the prone swordsman who was failing to get up, though not due to lack of effort. He approached the swordsman and held his left hand out with a charged fire spell. Lon'qu started to finally get up and almost grabbed his blade when Atris kicked it away. The swordsman was well aware of the spell, ready to fire off at a moment's notice. Both men panted heavily as they engaged one last staring contest.
"Just... end this already." He breathed out shallowly, the swordsman's answer was a defiant scowl. Atris bit his lip hard, the fire danced and lashed about savagely within his palm as if begging to be released. Finally, Lon'qu's eyes closed, and his face slackened.
"I... I submit." Lon'qu rasped out. With a sigh of relief Atris dismissed the spell and tried to help the Feroxi up. They looked at him with a mixture of confusion and disdain. "I'll be fine... your shoulder, get it taken care of." He almost spat at him as the swordsman attempted to rebuke him physically.
Lon'qu struggled until he finally got ahold of his sword. There was a relief on the swordsman's face, and he rose slowly and shakingly to his feet and departed to no doubt tend to his own wounds. Atris' awareness of the world outside of their duel had finally awakened as he noticed the crowd was roaring like some otherworldly creature. Had they always been cheering so fiercely? Pain came over him again, his hand returning to his shoulder, he made his way back to the stairs and stumbled a bit when he felt a pair of hands hold him firmly.
"Go easy, Tactician. That was quite the fight, let's get you to a healer." It was Raimi's voice albeit a bit softer than he remembered. He simply nodded and allowed her to walk him to behind the stands where the Shepherds were waiting for him.
Lissa was at the front of the group; the healer ushered him into the room across from her and simply looked at him with a sigh. She got to work on him starting with his shoulder. Lissa needed absolute concentration as the cut was deep, and his loss of blood made the healing process trickier for her to do. He didn't know how long he lay there while Lissa tended to him. Eventually, he felt the patting of a small hand on his head as he turned his head to see the princess smiling at him.
"You're all done, that said your body is going to be feeling this for a bit. I'd recommend nothing too physically strenuous for a bit. In other words, cool it with the gladiator fights." She spoke with a faux authoritarian voice. Atris sat up and immediately felt the dull ache in his body that thrummed alongside his heart.
"Thanks Lissa, The Shepherds are definitely lucky to have you around if you can fix up the mess I was." Atris said through half a pained groaned and got up from the bed with her help.
The Shepherds waiting outside were a mix of ecstatic and concerned for him, they shuffled about afraid to crowd their wounded tactician, that was until he shot them a cocky grin. Sully and Vaike both gave him congratulatory slaps on his left shoulder, much to the annoyance of the princess who shooed them. Still, the approval never left their faces. Miriel commended him on his use of magic, meanwhile Virion was giving a gentlemanly applause. Kellam was trying his best to be noticed by cupping his mouth and making a commotion, Stahl next to him trying to make the man more visible.
Atris chuckled at the two and waved at them with what energy he had, twin smiles brightened up the men's faces. Sumia looked over sheepishly to Lissa, who looked at her before sighing and telling her not to squeeze too hard. He felt the pegasus knight's gentle embrace as she cheered loudly, his chuckling now evolving to laughter that spread to the rest of the Shepherds. He even saw Frederick give him a simple approving nod, the high he felt from battle was nothing compared to how he felt now.
Sumia released her grasp as he saw both Chrom and Khan Flavia waiting for their own turn at him. He had to admit he was a bit surprised the khan was willing to be so patient. She stepped up to him with a grin and ruffled his hair. He couldn't help but feel like a child to the woman. As quick as she was to show her approval she was gone, and then Chrom came into sight. The blue-haired prince rested his hand gingerly for a moment on Atris' injured shoulder, almost as if examining it. With a sigh of relief and a small smile forming on the man's face.
"You had me worried, Lon'qu from what I saw is an incredibly talented swordsman. One of the best I've ever seen, but you outplayed him at every turn. I'm proud of you, Atris." He tried his best to fight down the rising heat to his cheeks from his friend's words.
"Thanks, Chrom. I... I uh was hoping to really show what I could do out there. Anyway, when's your match against, Marth?" Atris replied quickly switching the subject. Perhaps it should've been strange how much Chrom's words meant to him, but the feelings that flooded him banished the thoughts away.
"Perhaps in an hour or so, I'll be honest I'm glad you're not trying to convince me to let you fight in my place."
"Pfft, nope! After my fight with Lon'qu he's all yours! My shoulder is seriously killing me right now. I'd say not to lose, but I believe Sumia's the one who once said, 'no one can beat our, captain', after you beat Raimi." The two men grinned at each other as no doubt Sumia looked on in mortification at the comment.
"Damn straight, there'll be an alliance between Regna Ferox and Ylisse before supper!" Chrom proclaimed boldly as Atris held out his fist and the prince bumped it.
The fanfare of their victory finally dying down, Chrom and Atris made their way back to the balcony despite him not participating in the next fight, he was still a champion and if the worst possible happened the alliance between the two countries rested on a fight between Marth and him. By Naga he hoped that wouldn't happen. He was in no condition to fight, besides Lissa would flip if he undid all that work she put into him.
Still, he spent the time during the free matches devising up ways he could fight against Marth, he frowned when he found himself lacking in any plans. He'd be thinking on his feet the entire time. The horn blared as the time had come. Khan Basilio announced his champion, and Marth walked down the stairs that connected the balcony. Halfway down the stairs he unsheathed his sword, even from how far away they were. It couldn't be, could it?
"Chrom, are you seeing Marth's sword?"
"I-I am... it... it looks exactly like Falchion. But it simply can't be, there can't be more than one." The prince stammered out as the sword was made far more visible to them.
"A replica perhaps?" Atris proposed to his friend, as the prince simply frowned at the suggestion.
"A rather costly replica if so, especially for a man with origins like Marth."
"Are you two done? You're both reminding me of the oaf across from us." Khan Flavia growled out. "Two fancy swords, one fancy sword it doesn't matter. You'll kick his ass all the same, Chrom." The prince looked to the khan who gave him a confident smirk. "So, can I call for my champion now?"
With that Khan Flavia stood and announced her champion, the Prince of Ylisse himself as there was an outburst of mummering at the fact a royal had chosen to fight for one of the khans. Chrom descended to the field drawing Falchion. With a better view there was no doubt that Marth's "Falchion" looked identical to Chrom's. Marth seemed obsessed with the history of the Ylissian royal family, taking the name Marth, dressing like the modern-day equivalent of the ancient hero, all while donning colors common with the house and even wielding a replica sword. He couldn't help but wonder about the mysterious swordsman, just who were they exactly?
His attention was snapped back not by the second sounding of the horn, but by the clashing of the two combatants down below. Chrom knocked back Marth pushing on the offense as he charged in, yet Marth retaliated lunging forth with his own strike. Neither of them was willing to cede ground to the other. The way their blades whirled and sparked against one another; it was almost as if two Chroms were on the field. Yes, he was almost sure of it, somehow Marth's fighting style was a complete mirror of Chrom's. He stood there awe-struck his mind rushing to come up with some, any conclusion to what he was seeing here.
Chrom leapt forth and rotating his body brought his blade down full force on Marth's, but Marth simply allowed the momentum to carry him and pirouetted with their own strike that sent Chrom backwards. It was a perfect counter to the attack, even Frederick had difficulty with that when the prince pulled it off. Watching the smaller swordsman lunge forward again the two clashed furiously.
Atris gritted his teeth, he doubted there was a chance he could beat Marth if Chrom couldn't pull this out. Long'qu had surprised him several times with his speed and skill, but Marth really fought as someone worthy of their namesake, except... the tactician observed the smaller swordsman far more closely. There was something off about the way they carried themselves, something that no swordsman should be doing.
The tactician thought more about the fighters below and narrowed his eyes examining every movement between the two. Chrom was attempting the same technique he had performed on Raimi back at the Longfort, but the smaller swordsman struck back at the right moment every time denying the prince his momentum. Marth surged forward deadlocking Chrom, it was here he saw it.
Marth's fighting style wasn't a mirror, it was an intimation of the prince's. Marth was neglecting his own natural advantages in their pursuit to fight exactly like the larger swordsman. Leaning back in his seat he saw it, for as incredibly talented as Marth was all they could do was reenact Chrom's swordplay. They displayed knowledge of how to fight, but not necessarily an understanding of why the prince's style of fighting worked specifically for him. Then there was also an odd desperation in Marth's swings, at times they almost lashed out like a cornered animal.
Chrom stood there, his body seemingly relaxed itself, Marth meanwhile circled cautiously and slowly inching his way forward. With a sudden burst of speed Chrom dashed forth and struck at the opposing man's sword, once again the two engaged in a furious duel. Except he believed that the prince had seen the answer just as he did. Chrom tangled their blades and knocked back Marth, a thrust following suit as the smaller swordsman attempted to deflect the blade, Chrom had trapped him.
The tip of Chrom's Falchion had slid into the teardrop crevice that adorned the replica blade. The prince, using his strength forced the blade up and pulled it ripping it from their grasp as it clattered to the ground. The mysterious swordsman's mouth hung open stunned at their loss, before finally holding up their hands in surrender. Atris saw the Shepherds piling onto the field to celebrate with their captain. He couldn't help but grin, as he stood up and began to leave the balcony.
"Not going to celebrate with your friends? You and the prince just won an alliance." Khan Flavia looked at him with the same smirk she constantly been wearing since they met. A part of him enjoyed and hated how unreadable the woman was.
"I'd love to, but I'm too curious for my own good. I've got to make sure Khan Basilio's latest favorite doesn't run away too soon."
"Ha, then go get'em, kid. I'll make sure your friends are directed back to the apartment." She said and waved him off lazily. Nodding his appreciation to her he ran off. Knowing how wily the mysterious swordsman was, he knew just the place to look.
It took some time, but he found the exit farthest out of the way of not just the Shepherds, but other people entirely. He leaned against the wall and rapped on it lightly making a small nonsensical beat to kill time. He heard the sound of steps as they came to a stop, the crunching on the stone sounded as if someone was sitting on the stairs just around the corner. Pushing himself off the wall he almost stepped forward when he heard something. Was... that a sniffle? was Marth crying?