The Journal of Renault, Bishop of Valor

Chapter 1

A new Fire Emblem fanfiction series I'm working on. The Journal of Renault focuses on the character of...well, Renault from FE7. In FE7, we don't get much explanation of Renault's backstory other than a few tidbits in his support conversations, which makes him one of the few Fire Emblem characters with a mysterious backstory (don't ask me for other examples). Now while most people have just taken Renault and accepted him as a subpar endgame recruit, I on the other hand feel like this follower of Saint Elimine could use a little more fleshing out. Thus, I decided to create a little fan series dedicated to this cause. I hope you enjoy this series and if you do, don't forget to follow and review!


Those nightmares still haunt me to this day…

I can still see his pale corpse in my dreams, shaking violently as it came back to life, the gray color in his eyes that were rolled back far into his head slowly returning, the motionless expression on his face...and all I could do was stand there and watch in great horror. I couldn't yell, turn away nor run. For some reason in that moment, my body was frozen still. I didn't feel angry, nor happy, nor bewildered...just frightened. Even now I can still hear the cackling laugh that came out of Nergal's ugly mouth. Damn him. Damn that fool for tricking me all that time ago, and damn me for falling for his honeyed words and toxic charm…

But that is not where my story starts.

My story begins instead with a mercenary job for Caelin.

Just a group of bandits, I thought to myself. They're nothing but a group of bandits. I could feel the sweat pour from my forehead and my hands tremble. Why was I so nervous? This was my living, bashing skulls in and acting reckless. I've faced worse many times before in the years I spent as a mercenary, and yet…

"Oi, Renault!" a familiar voice whispered. "Don't tell me your nervous." I turned my head to find my partner and a few other Caelin mercs crouched next to me, chuckling. I smiled and replied simply with "Never". We took one look at the situation in front of us: a makeshift base loaded with bandits inside. They were holding a group of women hostage and were prepared to kill them if we attacked, let alone found us. The Marquess of Caelin, an old man by the name of Hausen, had hired us to ensure that we returned the women safe and sound. We were getting paid extra if they returned unharmed, and one small slip could screw up the entire operation, and thus our payment. One of the mercs drew a bow and arrow and prepared to fire into the crowd, but as soon as the butt of the arrow made contact with the bowstring my friend motioned him to stand down. "If you attack now we'll risk losing the hostages, and that would never suit Marquess Hausen."

"He's right," I replied. "Save your arrows for now. After all, I have a better idea."

The man put down his bow in frustration, upset that he wasn't allowed a free kill. "Well let's hear it, Renault," he sneered. I proceeded to point at a small object in the distance, which turned out to be a keg. I explained to them how I could sneak up behind the base and slip a very powerful sedative into their wine so that eventually they would fall into a deep slumber and we could rescue the hostages without fault. When they asked me where said drug was, I produced a small white capsule from my pocket and told them that it would only take about twenty seconds for it to dissolve.

"It sounds dangerous," one said.

"It could ruin the whole mission," replied another.

"We won't know unless we try," my friend debated. "Renault, since this is your idea, I believe you should have the honor of carrying it out."

I nodded with a smirk on my face. "Watch this," I whispered, and proceeded to slink down the hillside we were perched on towards the bandit hideout. As I got closer, I could hear the faint voices of the bandits and the roar of laughter grow louder. I could hear the shrieking and sobbing of the hostages inside, and in my soul I felt a boiling hatred building. When I finally got to the keg, I pulled out the capsule once more and slowly slipped it inside. The liquor made a small fizzing noise before settling down once more. At this moment, one of the men, perhaps the leader of the bandits, yelled to another to get the wine out. I began to panic and looked around for any and all cover to hide in. As the shadowy figure of the bandit grew closer, I had no choice but to duck on the other side of the base. I watched from my makeshift cover as he heaved the keg onto his shoulder, looking around to make sure no one was watching him, and then heading back inside. I sighed in victory and snuck back to the hillside, my companions smiling at my success.

"Now what?" said one of them.

"Now we wait," I replied, my eyes dead-set on the base.

A few minutes later the ruckus grew silent, and I motioned everyone to follow me down to the base silently but quickly. When we finally reached the inside we carefully tiptoed over the resting piles of brutish men towards the cage of hostages. I could see the look of joy as they began to stand up, but I quickly shushed them, pointing to the sleeping bandits strewn on the floor. They nodded in return as my friend handed me a lockpick. The lock on the cage was more than enough work, but eventually it gave way and the door swung open.

"Listen," I whispered softly. "There's an escort over on the hill to the west who will bring you back to Caelin. If you want to get to him, however, you must be absolutely silent and follow our instructions. Do you understand?" The women nodded. "Good. Now come take my hand. Quickly now."

As we led the girls out of the base, one of the bandits began to come round and saw us escorting them out. He quickly sprang to his feet and shouted, "Lads! We got ourselves some intruders!"

Damn, I thought, and we were so close too. I ushered the women to run to the escort and brandished my sword, while the other mercs followed suit. The bandits swarmed us from all sides, but we were able to fend them off well. As victory seemed close, more bandits sprung out of a hidden wine cellar and charged at us. My friend and I, fighting back to back, held off against the reinforcements. "Just like old times, eh Renault?" he guffawed. "Just like old times!" I laughed in return, slashing at the horde of bandits in front of me.

Eventually, when the dust settled we all took a moment to catch our breath and pat each other on the back. My friend turned to me with a smile on his face and said, "You know what Renault, your plan wasn't half bad as usual. Hell, Marquess Hausen should make you the Chief Strategist of Caelin. Maybe one of these days-"

His sentence was cut short as his smile turned into a look of shock. He looked down to find an arrow had penetrated his armor and into his backside towards his heart. I looked over to see one of the bandits, now completely dead, with a bow in his hand and a victorious look on his face. My friend began breathing heavily and slumped forward, though I managed to catch him before he fell to the ground. I called out for the others but he shushed me instantly. "Don't...don't bother, Renault...I've had it…" he whispered.

"No you haven't," I shivered. "We'll take you back to Caelin, get you mended, and you'll be fine. Just stay with me damn it!"

He chuckled. "Hey...remember that one job...when you told me we were...invincible together…? Good times, Renault...good...times…" As the last word escaped his mouth, he took one last breath before his eyes slowly shut. I felt his pulse stop and his breathing cease, and in that moment my anger and grief finally boiled over.

"No...NO!" I cried out. "Damn you, don't die now! Wake up!"

"Renault get off him!" called one of the others. "Face it man, he's dead!"

I believe that was the first time I ever felt great sorrow and even greater pain. From that moment forward, his death clouded my mind, haunted my dreams, made me insane…

It was in that moment that I truly understood loss.


The road back to Caelin was long and sulken. Nobody spoke a word, not even as we arrived into the kingdom. The rain fell softly and silently, and the village people, who looked joyous and carefree before, looked down glumly and began to mourn in silence as I carried my friend's corpse on my back, still shocked by his death. Even the castle guard could not say a word; they just moved aside to let us through towards the Marquess.

Marquess Hausen watched in sorrow as I lay my friend onto a guest bed, covering it in the snow white sheets of the bed. He put a hand on my shoulder, but refused eye contact with me. "Even for a mercenary," he sighed, "he was a fine man, and an even finer soldier."

"He didn't deserve to die, Marquess Hausen," I said through gritted teeth. "Why did he die? It isn't right…"

"It isn't right Renault, but perhaps this was his destiny, to die in the service. And we cannot alter destiny, as you should very well know."

"To hell with destiny!" I slammed the end table so hard that it made the maiden, who was standing bedside with the Marquess, jump in fright. I quickly apologized and gathered my emotions. "Marquess Hausen, I don't know what I should do...were I to turn back time, I would have gladly taken the arrow instead of him. But now that he is gone…"

"Renault, do not burden yourself further than you already have."

"How can I not? He was one of my dearest friends. He was like a brother to me…Marquess, what should I do? I feel so...helpless."

Marquess Hausen did not answer. Instead, he thanked the maiden for her services, turned around, and walked out of the room. Even without a clear answer, I refused to leave the room, and thus I ended up falling asleep kneeling down beside my friend's deathbed.


Come morning, I decided with the Marquess that I would take my friend's body and bury him in his homeland of Edessa in Ilia. Hausen told me he had prepared a cart and a coffin for my friend, to which his knights helped me load up. It took most of the morning to prepare him for burial, and all during the process I had to hold back my anger and grief. At last, with my friend loaded onto the cart, I set off for Edessa alone. Along the way I stopped at a nearby village to get food and water at the tavern. While I was enjoying my meal, I was approached by a strange man in dark clothing. I could feel his eyes pierce my soul as I looked at him. He was just standing there...staring at me.

"Can I help you, sir?" I asked half-annoyed.

"Yes," the man purred in a deep and oily voice, his blank expression turning into a wrought smile. "Yes perhaps you can." He took a seat next to me without breaking eye contact. "I heard you had lost a dear friend recently. Tis a shame, death is...and yet so inevitable."

"How did you know...look I don't know who the hell you are but-"

"At ease, my good man. I've come to help."

"How? How can you help? He's already dead."

"Perhaps, but what if I told you I could bring life back into him using nothing but pure magic?"

"I don't believe you, nor do I believe your type. Next you'll tell me you can cure plagues with an herbal remedy." I began to get up from my barstool and was about to walk out on him when he grabbed me by the arm. "Let go of me damn it!" I tried to loosen his grasp on my arm, but no matter how hard I tried, his grip was too strong. Inhumanly strong...

He could only smile at my feeble attempt to escape. "I am unlike the fools that call themselves ghost whisperers or death callers. I am a shaman of the highest order. My power stems from knowledge of the darkest art, necromancy. While others dream of achieving great knowledge and ultimate power, I have both at my disposal. I can create life from one of the basic building blocks of life: quintessence. Ah yes...sweet, delicious quintessence. It makes us, it surrounds us, it empowers us. Without it, people such as you and I would be mere husks. Hollow, soulless, emotionless husks wishing for death."

Could I believe what I was hearing from this madman's mouth? Perhaps, perhaps not. But he spoke not just to me as a person, he spoke to my inner greed, my deepest desires, my darkest whims...and for reasons unknown, I was a changed man in that moment. I sat back down silently as he let go of my arm, his wicked smile growing in size. "What do you want of me?" I asked.

"I need your assistance for a few experiments of mine. You see, I am in the midst of creating living, thinking humans. Morphs, I call them. All I need is a test subject so that I may get on with my work. And you, with your strength, your integrity, your courage, your heart...you would make a fine base for my tests."

There was a moment of silence as I thought carefully about the choices at hand. I could refuse this creepy old man and get moving with my original plan, but at that moment his words kept feeding my inner selfish desires. Without hesitation, I replied, "Alright. I will aid you in your experiments. However, under one condition: you will bring my friend back from the dead. Is that clear?"

"It shall be done. Now come, we have much work to do…"

"Wait!" A pause. "What is your name, sorcerer?"

The old man turned his head back to face me, eyes gleaming with evil and his smile crooked. After another long pause, he replied with only one word: "Nergal."


And that's the end of Chapter 1. To be fair, this was interesting to write since I had to do quite a bit of research into Renault's character. Again, I hope you liked Chapter 1 and of course remember to follow and leave a review for more! I also am planning to write my first fantasy fiction novel in the coming days with this series as a side project, but I promise that Chapter 2 will be on its way soon!