Emmeryn was mildly concerned when Nicola didn't leave his chambers the following day. She had been told that he had been recommended to take a day or so to relax, but she was near certain that he was not. He did not respond to any servants coming to deliver food when she was informed he hadn't left since his rather late entry the night before nor did he respond to the rather impromptu summons she sent his way. It had pertained to his experiences with the church and whether or not, beyond his known experience and the recent attack, had encountered any other direct hostility from any members of the organization. It was rather worrisome when he did not respond, she needed to know if they'd caused him any other issues directly for her upcoming meeting with the Hierarch. When a second day passed, bringing them dreadfully close to the proper audience the spearman had arranged, and he still hadn't left his chambers, Emmeryn decided it was time to act.
"Phila, clear the next hour of my schedule," the Exalt requested as noon came and went. The picturesque sky was dotted with fluffy white clouds and the sun was bright overhead, but the scent of impending rain hung in the air. That was going to make things more difficult depending on when the rain chose to fall, Emmeryn had never been particularly good at staying awake during rain storms and the like; the rhythmic pitter-patter and the distant peals of thunder put her to sleep rather quickly if she wasn't up and about.
"Only if you remember to rest properly. You've a busy week ahead and falling asleep from exhaustion will do you no favors," The blue haired woman warned.
"I've not fallen asleep in the middle of working for a rather long while, Phila. I can handle shifting things around just a little."
"If I may be candid, Lady Emmeryn, I will believe that when I see it."
The Exalt huffed. She hadn't been that bad since she'd taken reign of the nation in her father's stead, back when she hardly had a spine or any idea of what she was doing. That was over a decade ago now and she's changed a great deal since then, but Phila had a long memory. The Wing Commander had been a Pegasus Knight in her father's employ before the Crusades, though she and other members of her order had rebelled when the war with Plegia devolved into 'pointless' bloodshed. Very few people knew the truth of the conflict and even Emmeryn had a hard time believing the 'real' reports her father's tactician general had given mere hours before he vanished and his office was set ablaze mysteriously. That had terrified her at the time and had her jumping at shadows for nearly three years. Then her spine developed and she exposed those shadows when they started trying to force her hand in matters.
That had been a particularly grim day, but a necessary one in setting her on the path she now walked. The days that followed had been the most busy blurs that the young Exalt had experienced in her lifetime, then things had gotten busier still. Over the next nine years, Emmeryn had grown accustomed to being perpetually busy, perpetually needed and perpetually without a good night's rest. Being the Exalt practically required her to function on three hours of sleep and copious amounts of tea, now more than ever with the mounting tensions with Plegia and the Risen that had begun appearing all over the halidom.
Contrary to popular belief, she was aware of the growing tensions and would have liked to do more than let her brother and sister gallivant off on heroic ventures that could have cost them their lives, but her hands were tied by those same tensions. The moment she made any move that could be deemed as offensive, whether that be allowing the knights to recruit squires more actively or increasing defenses near border adjacent settlements, Plegia would ramp up its aggression and reveal the brunt of the might it had been building since the end of the last war. Of course, that was assuming that the people of the halidom didn't tear her apart first. That was the issue with being a pacifist that followed a warmonger: the people would revere and respect one for their peaceful ways, but they would always see the warmonger in the shadows. They would nearly always be waiting for the picturesque and ideal ruler to turn into a monster like the ruler before them. And then they would revolt and tear them- her- apart. That left Emmeryn with very few options for protecting her people without both inciting them and sparking the next war with Plegia. Emmeryn was uncertain Ylisse would come out of that war victorious, if the nation made it out at all.
The Exalt pushed those thoughts away as she strode past various servants and knights within the palace, each offering bows, words of reverence or salutes as she passed. She offered nods of acknowledgement in turn as she passed the walled gardens and made her way towards the guest wing. From there it was a quick series of turns and a walk down a long corridor before she arrived at her guest and friend's room. She eyed the cool tray of food lying outside the door and sighed to herself. A breakfast left uneaten, from the day before based on the smell. So he hadn't come out at all then. At the very least, very little food was wasted.
"Nicola, it is me," Emmeryn began, knocking lightly on the door. "Are you alright? We have not heard from you in two days and I wanted to be sure that you were alright."
As expected, there was no answer. Servants had tried to do the same all throughout the previous day and the result had been the same. There had been a mild hope that the rather stressed youth would respond to her, but she hadn't expected him to. Not while he was clearly troubled by his partial transformation. Was he a Manakete? He didn't have the pointed ears of one from what she'd seen, but his ears were always covered by his seaweed green mane of hair. That being said, he absolutely didn't carry a Dragonstone. She'd seen several up close and even the smallest ones were too large to be concealed by his rather plain choice of clothing. Maybe the flower petal shaped charm had something to do with it? Likely not and it was pointless to hypothesize on something like that without more information on hand.
"Nicola, please respond," Emmeryn tried a second time, knocking louder and more insistently. "If there is something wrong, allow me to help you."
She would do her best and her best covered a large number of things related to healing and purification. Those came easy to her, those and some potent combative magics, thanks to her bloodline, natural inclination and experience. If Nicola required her healing abilities, she would offer them. He just needed to respond and open the door. If not, she would open it in his stead.
She knocked a third time, restraining herself as to not punch knuckle sized holes in the fine wood door. She didn't have the strength her brother had, but her heritage still afforded her far greater strength than regular people. Unlike Chrom, she was rather adept in controlling her strength and not breaking things she used rather often; that would have cost a fortune in wasted ink and ruined parchment. When Nicola still did not respond, she huffed with a hint of annoyance.
"Fine, the subtle approach is out," she breathed, closing her eyes as she rubbed her temples. When she opened her eyes, they were different. Gone were the brilliant emerald eyes filled with serene light and warmth. In their place were cool lilac orbs that saw far beyond what an experienced healer would.
Emmeryn and, to a lesser degree, Lissa had the ability to see into the true nature of those they healed or touched. Lissa had started coming into the latter just before she left with Chrom, marking her rather spectacular growth as a healer. Most healers and clerics had to at least be able to cast something on par with the Recover spell before they developed such vision proper, but Lissa had just as she looked to be grasping the fundamentals of Mending. Emmeryn had been able to do so since she was a child, back when her father still lived and had been teaching her the swordsmanship of the royal family. When she'd taken to healing and throughout her education at the Ylissean Mage's College her sight had only grown more powerful, to a disconcerting degree.
Before she learned to suppress and control her gaze, her ability to see into people's souls, she'd thought she was going mad or had been cursed. It didn't help that she had the stress of ruling a nation piled on top of the stress of learning from severe professors that hated her for being a prodigy. Balancing those with teaching Chrom the way of the sword and an unpleasant awakening to what her power as a healer could really do had been less than pleasant, but she refused to crack. Instead she honed her vision and learned to see through people quite literally, people and to an extent walls and stone. What she saw when doing so weren't people, so much as what represented their souls and whether or not they were still alive.
Emmeryn did not use this often, the terrible headache that came after wasn't nearly worth the few benefits and multitude of detriments that came with doing so. For one, she was nearly certain focusing on a person for too long would kill them. She hadn't been willing to test that for obvious reasons, but she knew her eyes visibly hurt people if she made contact for prolonged periods of time. Another, worse, thing was the fact that she could not heal others while her eyes were like this; if she tried she would make them ill even as she mended what ailed them previously. Perhaps the worst thing that came from this ability was that she could not feel her connection with Naga when it was active. Instead she felt a colder, more sickly connection that reminded her of rotting hydrangeas, spoiled fruit and sickly sweet syrup. She didn't like that one bit, but she had to deal with it—if only to see if her friend was still alive.
Thankfully, he was. He was also awake, which meant he was ignoring everyone. How rude.
The exalt steeled herself, took a few steps back then took a deep breath. She'd never been one to break down doors or the like, but she would make an exception this one time and apologize afterward. She regretted not wearing a different pair of shoes as she readied herself, undoubtedly she was going to ruin her current pair once she kicked the door in.
"Lady Emmeryn, if I may," Phila spoke, appearing at her side without a sound. If she hadn't been used to her attendant doing such a thing often, Emmeryn would have whipped around in surprise and possibly lashed out at what could have been an assassin. Instead, she inclined her head and glanced back at the Wing Commander.
"Phila. Speak freely," she said, tone neutral. She didn't enjoy the way Phila flinched at the sight of her eyes and looked away as the older woman spoke.
"If you are set on forcing open the door to your guest's chambers, would it not be better to use magic instead? I imagine it would be simpler and less costly to repair than you possibly splintering the door."
...That was correct. It would also be largely more impactful, if less personal. Then again, less personal was perhaps the better choice here: she wasn't angry at Nicola in the slightest, she was deeply concerned by his sudden shift in behavior and wanted to make sure he was alright. There was that and the fact that she was certain she could blast the door open without permanently damaging it like kicking it open would have.
"You would be correct, the thought did not immediately cross my mind," Emmeryn admitted as she reverted her eyes back to their ordinary state. "I may be somewhat ti..." The Exalt rephrased her words as she caught a glimpse of Phila's raised eyebrow. There was zero possibility that she would admit that she was tired at this juncture. It hadn't even started raining. "Somewhat temperamental today. I do believe I wished to try emulating one of my brother's accidents on purpose."
It wasn't a graceful save in the slightest and she could tell Phila didn't believe her. That was an unstated part of the Wing Commander's job, acting as the Exalt's foil away from others. That and making her feel a decade younger by doting on her at certain moments and chiding her in others.
"Should I begin keeping a tally of broken objects like Frederickson does for Prince Chrom or should I add you to his tally," the blue haired woman asked, a sliver of a smile forming as Emmeryn flushed. She did not dignify that question with an answer, instead addressed Nicola.
"Nicola, I'm coming in," she stated as her eyes flared. She placed a delicate looking hand on the door and uttered a single word. "Release."
She heard the door's lock unclasp a moment before it was blown inward with a loud crash, thankfully not in a hail of splinters and metal shards. The room was dark, the lantern and lights used to illuminate it remained unlit, leaving the Exalt's bright green eyes as beacons into the dark as she stepped into the room. The room was organized and nearly flawless, the linens and furniture arranged neatly and cleanly. A small pile of clothes, the uniform the spearman had worn two days prior, lay on the ground in contrast to the neatly folded tunic and trousers resting on one of the room's dressers. In the center of the room, atop the neatly organized bedding, was Nicola. The young man blinked in surprise at the sight of the Exalt, as if he'd just woken from a trance. Then his serpentine eyes narrowed as they met hers, flashing amber for a moment before settling on a deep blue.
"Is there something requiring my attention, Lady Emmeryn?" he inquired testily, watching her warily.
"There is nothing pressing if that is what you mean," the blonde woman replied. "I came to check on you when it became clear that you were being unresponsive after two days. I was worried for your wellbeing."
"Two days?" The youth frowned, brow furrowing. "That's impossible, at most I should have been focused for eight to ten hours, not two days."
"It is not impossible. The current date is July the third, the day you were brought to your chambers was the first of the month, during the evening."
Nicola searched her face for any hint of a lie or jest, but found none. He sighed then ran his left hand through his hair. He gave the hand a look and groaned.
"Dammit, you're right," he sighed. "And you are absolutely certain today is July third?"
"Why would I not be?"
The spearman swore to himself in a tongue the Exalt was unfamiliar with. It sounded like Ylissean, but the pronunciations were all incorrect, deliberately enough to make everything sound foreign. Once he was done, he looked at Emmeryn once more and offered an apology.
"Sorry about that. I never really paid attention to the date so I didn't realize when exactly it was. Did I miss anything el- anything important at all?"
He'd corrected himself without hesitation and looked as if he would not acknowledge that. Curious.
"Aside from a summons in regard to acquiring more information in regard to your interactions with Naga's Devout and a missive from Regna Ferox stating that the Shepherds will be arriving back in the halidom by the month's end, no."
Said missive had arrived via Familiar during the dawning hours of the previous day. How Frederick managed to conjure Familiars— with his near nonexistent magical capacity— and have them deliver missives halfway across the continent, she would never know, not when the man responded to the question with "A trade secret, your excellency." every time he was asked. It was the same response Phila gave in regard to showing up exactly when she was needed, even if she wasn't wanted at that moment in time.
"I see." The dark haired youth went quiet after that. Nicola really was some sort of conundrum to her. He was fascinating to observe and to tease, but he felt older than he appeared. Not like Manaketes or Taguel, who often looked far younger than they were, but more like he'd been forced to grow up far faster than most his apparent age. By her estimate he was still in his teens, though on the latter end of them rather than towards the middle. He carried himself like he was her age most of the time and was reserved when it came to talking about himself, but was keenly interested in others. If not for the fact that her siblings, Frederick and Sully had vouched for him, she would have thought him to be some form of assassin. Instead she found him to be an awkward teenager that tried to act older than he was, but was easily flustered and embarrassed back to acting his age. The way his soul looked was where things grew odd.
Most humans had souls that resembled them to a degree, often with more fantastical features. Phila's, for example, resembled her closer to her prime and was clad in golden armor with majestic feathered wings growing from her waist, with skin that mirrored the appearance of a starry night sky. Taguel souls resembled their bestial forms, but crystalline in nature from what Emmeryn knew, though she had never been able figure out if that was exclusive to the one she knew or the near extinct race as a whole. Manaketes, she was entirely unfamiliar with, having only seen the stones they used and heard the name in the myths she'd grown up with. Nicola's soul defied convention.
His soul resembled him, like a human's would, in part. It was easier to point out the parts of it that were different from him in all honesty. The symbol on his heart, from when he'd appeared to be in critical condition, had vine-like growths snaking throughout his form. His right side appeared to be wholly human, while his left side looked fiendish in nature, covered in jet black scales that gave way to steel muscle fibers and fur made of dead grass. Stone rhomboids appeared interwoven between the scales like spikes and ridges that spiraled up from his forearm to his shoulder, while gnarled branches twisted from his forehead like horns charred by lightning. His left eye was an eerie, piercing blue with black sclera and multiple cross shaped pupils within a ring of ten irises surrounding a singular central iris, each one pointed at her. His mouth had pronounced fangs, though only the left side took that further and replaced his lips with a scaled ridge that wouldn't have looked out of place on a wyvern. The center of his chest appeared to be shattered like glass, revealing a smaller Nicola curled into a ball within a crystalline mass suspended by barbed chains that pierced into it. More barbed chains wrapped around the larger Nicola, each one staked into a larger version of the seal over his heart that spread out beneath him within a sphere of burning water coated in a thick layer of ice at the top.
Around that was a delicate hand with immaculate nails and a porcelain complexion reaching towards it, held back by draconic maws biting into its wrist as numerous bladed weapons pierced into it. Most prominently, a series of seven unfamiliar sigils further blocked the hand, forming a ring around the Brand of the Exalt in the center. That one was the most peculiar, it implied that Nicola had some form of connection to Naga, but not in what way.
"Is your arm still..." Emmeryn began, only for Nicola to shift uncomfortably. It still bothered him then, which was understandable. If one of her own limbs had transformed in the way his right arm had, she would have also been distressed. "May I see it? I may be able to do something."
The youth made a noncommittal sound, slowly bringing the transfigured limb out. Emmeryn noted that the arm had changed from the night of the attack. The obvious scales that flared out in all directions were gone, replaced by smooth midnight flesh marred by ethereal blue cracks that glowed faintly in the dark room. The back of Nicola's hand had a wide and jagged looking scar in its center, where the would-be assassin's dagger had pierced it then ignited shortly thereafter, while his fingers and thumb appeared to be nearly immobile claws that glowed the same blue as the cracks and scar.
"It's hideous, isn't it," Nicola breathed. He continued without giving the Exalt time to voice her thoughts. "I've always wanted to be normal, ya know? Back home, I just wanted to make sure my family was safe and ensure that we could get a fresh start when it became clear our overseers just saw us as means to an end. Turns out, that's hard to do when you're the special person that's the least expendable, but the best suited to go and take care of the stupidly dangerous things. Then stuff happens and I end up far from home, surrounded by a group of strangers in the middle of a war and learn that what little normalcy I thought I had was a sham." He gestured with the dark limb. "Then another war hits and it becomes clear that it's less that I've a few major oddities and more that I'm a monster that looks like a human and at risk of hurting everyone I care about."
Emmeryn remained quiet. There wasn't much she could say, looking at the dark haired youth before her. She didn't need to be able to read people in order to tell that a dam was close to breaking within Nicola, something the Exalt was certain he'd need support for. Even if she hadn't seen his soul, Emmeryn knew a breakdown in progress when she saw one: she had dealt with them before and knew how damaging they could be.
She chose that moment to take the transfigured hand into her own, startling Nicola. He started to withdraw the limb, but stiffened as Emmeryn offered him a reassuring smile. The hand was cool to the touch and nearly as hard as stone while the digits were warm like candlelight, giving off a faint crackling sensation.
"I'm uncertain of who called you a monster in the land you hailed from Nicola, but I can tell that is not the case. A monster would not care enough to save others or risk life and limb to protect another. Monsters are mad, driven to do terrible things out of grief or rage or the greater good without care for the consequences of their actions and their effect on others. Perhaps you nearly became such a thing in the past, but as you are now you are a human. Flawed, damaged and in severe need of belief in yourself, but not a monster."
She'd known monsters and Nicola did not meet her criteria for one. Monsters weren't always broken or monstrous in appearance and demeanor, it was often the opposite. They functioned well and bound people to them with words and charm and wit alike, but they had an intensity that Nicola did not. He had a different sort of intensity, but that was less him and more the other presence within him. Said presence was far more pronounced now compared to their first two meetings, but still subdued to a degree. Perhaps it was the monster Nicola feared becoming, so much so that he split it from himself? If so, that was ultimately going to cause him more harm than good if he never addressed it in full.
"I'd like to believe I'm a human, but..." he trailed off as he looked over the midnight colored limb. Emmeryn gave it a reassuring squeeze in turn. She wasn't expecting the clawed fingers to crack in response. The dark haired youth gave a mirthless chuckle in response to her look of surprise. "If I don't move my fingers for too long, this happens. I believe I'm venting excess mana through my fingers and the scars along that arm, but it's inefficient and causes my fingers to harden into claws. It's annoying, but I can usually fix that."
Mana? Did he mean his vitality? If so, wasn't that exceedingly dangerous?
Before she could ask, Nicola gently pulled his hand from Emmeryn's and brought his palm up, revealing the same symbol that she'd seen over his heart and within his soul. Clearly, it had some form of importance if it kept appearing, but she wasn't sure Nicola would want to talk about it. Instead, he brought his claws inward and flexed them. The cracks that covered them before expanded and widened, with large chunks of the claws falling off only to disperse into cool blue embers. The ruler was briefly concerned that too much of each claw would break off and the digits beneath them would break with them, but her fears were allayed as pointed blue fingers curled beneath the remains.
"Did that hurt?" It certainly hadn't looked pleasant.
"No. I can't actually feel much with this arm as it is now. Same as before."
"As before? Then this has happened previously."
"Yeah." Nicola paused, considering what to say next. No, that was rather incorrect. He was gathering himself to continue.
"You do not need to-"
"Two years ago. Someone I cared deeply about was burned alive in front of me. Someone who had helped guide me and grounded me when I buried myself in my fears and insecurities. I snapped then and this happened, but worse."
"Worse?"
"I... It's nothing, forget everything I just said." He immediately closed in on himself. It made sense, he looked like he wanted to bring it up in the first place.
"I see. Let's talk about something different then." Nicola nodded in response to the suggestion. "Are you ready for the official audience we will have in two days?"
"I should be. It's primarily to test my magical potential in an official capacity, no?"
"That would be correct."
"Then I should be fine, so long as I have my arm fully covered or back to normal by then."
"Understandable." While she, Phila and Aquila were unphased by the transformed arm, Emmeryn could guarantee that most other people would not be. If the church got wind of it, they would absolutely go around her authority to see her guest removed from the nation, whether that be through some form of exile or more open attacks on his person. They'd already sent an assassin clad in enchanted armor and armed with an blessed blade after him, so there was no telling what lengths they would go to if they felt fully 'justified' in pursuing Nicola. Speaking of which...
"Have you had any other direct encounters with members of our church? If so, I will need you to recount each encounter in as clear a manner as you can." Thankfully, or perhaps unfortunately from another perspective, he had not. He mentioned the occasional jeer from more adherent followers and an increase in prices for items sold to him when in the town markets, but there had been no other attacks or direct encounters.
Emmeryn changed the subject again, asking if he was elated for the Shepherds' return. As it turned out, he was relieved more than anything else. He wasn't close with many of her brother's bunch—he had been unconscious or bedridden for most of the time when he could have met them—but he was glad to hear that all of them had made it back from the trek to Regna Ferox. He mentioned having a promise to keep with Lissa, explaining that she'd asked about a story from his world when pressed on the matter. The way he fidgeted and looked away was adorable, but it was a bit mean for her to push his buttons. Still, in that moment he looked his age rather than like a person trying to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"Lady Emmeryn, your hour is almost up," Phila called from outside the room after the two went back and forth between more topics, causing the ruler to blink. Of course time was nearly up, right when she was beginning to relax and unwind properly. That hadn't been her intention from the start, but being able to talk with someone and unburden herself for a moment felt nice. That being said, she had one more thing to do before she left.
"Nicola, I'd like to try something before I go."
"Try something?" He gave the Exalt a skeptical look. Ah, perhaps she had teased him a bit too much.
"I'd like to see if I can return your arm to normal, if only for a moment."
That got his interest. He clearly had some way of returning his arm to normal if this had happened before, but from the way he worded things it seemed that doing so took some time. Some form of purification magic could possibly be effective in that regard, if the transformation was related to his emotions. Emmeryn knew two spells that could possibly resolve the issue, though one would see Phila lay into her for recklessness if she attempted to cast it without her staff; it was the only spell in her repertoire that required a staff to use because the strain was far greater than any other spell she knew.
"You're welcome to try," Nicola finally said. "I'm unsure how successful you'll be, but if you can fix this I'd be grateful. I'd also owe you a favor."
"None of that talk," the Exalt tutted, taking hold of the transfigured arm once more. "I would do this for free for a friend."
"R-right." Nicola chose not to make eye contact then, leaving Emmeryn to her work.
The trick to purifying things was to start small. If one tried to expunge corruption or illness or curses from a person or animal in a single go, the target was often left burned, scarred or worse. That was the principal behind the offensive magics like Seraphim and Aura, expunging all of the taint from someone or something at once. When trying to heal with purification, one needed to be meticulous and tiny in scale at first. The idea was to look for a tiny chink or blemish in the taint and focus on that to spread cracks through the larger mass. From there, applying even and steady amounts of purifying magic over a slowly expanding area would see most magical ailments fall apart. There was far more nuance to it than that, but that was the principle of what Emmeryn attempted to do.
"Recover," she whispered, sea green magic weaving itself around her hands. With a mental command small threads of magic soon detached from her hands and wound themselves around Nicola's arm, probing it for any weakness in the affliction warping the limb. They found none, instead finding that there was no 'curse' on his arm per se, instead it was far closer to some form of innate magic from his person. Despite the alien appearance it gave his arm, the magic was more defensive in nature than anything else. It was also mutable, allowing Emmeryn to try and condense it down.
The magic stirred in response, shifting from a midnight colored limb with blue cracks and clawed fingers to a much more natural looking hand that looked as if it was covered in tattoos of swirling and curling smoke. Most appeared to be a dark grey or black in color, but a few pure white and ethereal blue strands curled within the darker mass. Then the smoky marks coiled around one another, taking the form of colorful chains that wrapped around his wrist like a winding sigil of sorts.
Ememryn hadn't done that last bit in particular, but it appeared to resolve the issue of Nicola's arm appearing unnatural. That being said, Nicola was becoming more of a person of interest the more time she spent around him. Perhaps one day he'd be willing to share more about his past, but on his own time. Unless the secrets he carried directly endangered her people or family, she would not pry into his past.
"You managed to purify it," Nicola gaped, staring at his now normal looking arm as. "How?"
"It was less purifying and more shifting and condensing the power into a more manageable form," she explained. "Whatever caused your arm to change shape as it did was not a curse. I think it may have been a defensive reaction to being stabbed by a blessed dagger."
Nicola blinked at that, giving the Exalt a look that was both concerned and confused. He clearly wanted to know why that had happened and she had no answer for him. The only things that tended to react poorly to blessed and sacred arms were agents of the Fell Dragon and the Terrors of yore. Nicola did not give off the impression of the latter and Emmeryn would have immediately sensed if he was the former. He clearly wasn't an ordinary human, at least not entirely. What human had eyes that shifted colors, pronounced fangs, the strength to pierce through enchanted armor barehanded and limbs that transformed in contact with blessed weapons? Emmeryn did not know, but she did recognize that Phila would be growing cross with her soon if she did not leave.
With a faint inclination of her head, the Exalt bid Nicola farewell and returned to the hall, where her attendant awaited.
"You were able to restore his arm, I take it," Phila stated more than asked as they made their way to the ruler's study.
"In part," Emmeryn nodded.
"And you've some form of interest in him. Should I be concerned there?"
"Phila, I may be lonely on occasion, but I'm not attempting to court someone I've known for just over a month."
"I'm aware, but I must ask in any case. You were able to take some time and relax, which is rather rare."
Emmeryn hummed in response. It was true that she tended to not be able to relax very often, not during the day at least. More often than not, she was working when she should have been resting. It was mainly looking over large requests and petitions from nobles across the halidom or reports from villages on the state of things in their areas, sprinkled in with the occasional request for aid. Those were the trickiest to deal with, especially while Chrom was away. Ordinarily she would ask Chrom where he was planning to patrol and give him the details of any pressing or urgent pleas, but that was near impossible while he and his companions were away. Similarly, the Pegasus Knights were tied up often, stretched thin between monitoring the nation's border, the capital itself and a small area surrounding Ylisstol due to their limited numbers– and unlike with the army, she hadn't taken the axe to their number.
"He reminds me of Lissa in a way," the Exalt said after a long pause. "There's something gnawing away at him, preventing him from accepting himself as a person."
"But unlike your sister, there's a more obvious physical aspect to that rather than a lack of one." Emmeryn nodded. It had always bothered Lissa that the Brand of Exalt never appeared on her, despite any reassurance that it could pass over members of the royal family. She had never quite accepted that and, coupled with how their father acted towards her before his passing, often wondered if she was truly a member of the family or some bastard child.
In Nicola's case, she wasn't quite sure beyond guilt and a self-inflicted burden. He did and did not want to open up about his issues and be free of them. He also appeared to be rejecting himself, which was another issue in its own right. Beyond that, the dark haired youth was selfless to a fault, somewhat short sighted and incredibly self-deprecating. It wasn't Emmeryn's job to try and fix that, but she wanted to. Not because of some romantic interest, they hardly knew one another in the first place and she could tell such a relationship would not end well between them. It was because helping others was important to her, for all that her hands were tied on a larger scale.
"I wouldn't get too invested in him, Lady Emmeryn. I believe he plans to leave once he finds what he is after."
"Once the Shepherds are back and he upholds a promise, perhaps." A faint smile tugged at Emmeryn's face as they reached her study. The promise he made Lissa was small, almost inconsequential. A story for a conversation. And yet the young man treated it like it was a grave pact. It was cute and the Exalt hoped that once it was honored Nicola and Lissa could become great friends for the duration of his stay. She just needed to do her part and make the spearman's remaining time as peaceful as she could.
The audience with Emmeryn came and went for Nicola. Part of it was from the surprise and joy that his arm was back to normal thanks to Emmeryn's intervention. Another part was the minor bombshell that he'd missed his own birthday. Both made the days that followed blend together.
Nicola remembered being called to the Exalt's audience chamber, wherein he was tested by the owner of the magic shop, Ricken and the Exalt herself for his magical potential, all while a member of the mage's college staff watched on. Apparently, his potential was surpassed only by staff members of the school, Emmeryn, Ricken and a few alumni. That wasn't really surprising to him, given his background as a mage of sorts before he took to fighting up close.
Shortly thereafter was his training with the Anna who guarded the world's gate, where he and Cordelia sparred against the enigmatic woman apart or together. Anna was a very rough 'teacher,' in that she would call out mistakes in stances or forms or how he used his abilities, but leave him to figure out how to improve himself after giving broad advice. He wasn't sure he was picking up as much as Cordelia was, at least not directly. Whereas the red haired knight absorbed the Guardian's techniques in heartbeats, Nicola was made to refine himself further and further. By the time Anna left, Nicola was a near waterfall of sweat as he hunched over and hacked out his lungs. Cordelia fared little better, having been made to run laps around the castle until she fell over from exhaustion. Neither was reassured by Anna telling them that they did well and that she would return on the morrow to further train them.
After that, everything slowed down. For the next few weeks or so, Nicola trained with Cordelia and Anna, gradually coming more into his techniques and capabilities, though he was far from the level he needed to be for his vengeance. On occasion, Phila or Aquila—later revealed to be the Wing Commander's younger sister—would watch the trio train and spar. Phila took a rather keen interest in Nicola's fighting style and would occasionally offer advice when Anna failed to. At the very least, Nicola finally gained the ability to manifest a fourth mirage after some particularly harsh training and much needed advice.
From there, he ended up spending a few days with Ricken and a noblewoman by the name of Maribelle. The prodigal mage showed him around the mage's college and explained what the classes were like, occasionally giving demonstrations with the permission of some of the professors.
"It's pretty simple," the younger teen explained, conjuring a ball of wind in the center of one of the academy's training yards. "You see those targets at random intervals throughout the field? Your goal would be to hit as many as you can while casting your first spell as quickly as possible as an initiate. As you get better and better at casting, more conditions are applied, like having to move and cast or avoid spellfire from other mages while aiming for the targets."
"And I take it accuracy is important," Nicola mused, watching the younger man fire off blades of wind from the ball he created as he ducked and weaved through invisible attacks.
"Yup," Ricken nodded as he struck the final target. "It's not the most important thing at first, but as you get further along in your studies, it matters a tonne more. For example, when I'm using anything but wind, I'm expected to clear this field with less than two missed targets or I'm forced to restart from the beginning. You won't need to deal with that until you're nearly at my skill level as a mage, so once they determine your affinity and you make it through all of your lessons over two, maybe three, years."
Two to three years? If his affinity was light related as he expected, it would likely take him a few months. He knew his way around slinging spells, but he'd need to adapt to the restrictions this world had on casting before he was anywhere near his skill on Zenith. The same would be true if he had an affinity for fire or lightning magic as well, those were pretty close to light and he had some experience with them.
As for Maribelle, she accompanied Nicola begrudgingly. The noblewoman had a quick temper and the moment she and Nicola met tension formed between them. It didn't help that she claimed he reminded her of a dastard she knew or that he tuned her out when she went off on angry tangents. That in turn led to angrier tangents and arguments that often had to be broken up. Neither was sure why Emmeryn requested she be put in his care, not when he was the least qualified person to watch over a noble. Surely Cordelia would have been a better choice or any of the other Pegasus Knights not currently suspected or suspended for the attack on the red haired woman.
"Lady Emmeryn, could you not find me a better escort," Maribelle asked one day, just three days before the Shepherd's expected arrival. "This ruffian is adequate at his job, but I would much prefer a knight or my own entourage over him."
"This 'ruffian' has ears and has kept you safe for the duration of your visit," Nicola drawled in turn, amber orbs meeting wine red orbs as they glared at one another. "Or will you ignore the stall that nearly collapsed on top of you and the runaway carriage that nearly hit us both?"
"Only if you plan on forgetting the wall that nearly collapsed on the both of us or those other ruffians attempting to rob us in broad daylight," she huffed in return.
Emmeryn watched them bicker with a strained smile. She'd chosen to pair Nicola up with Maribelle because she knew the noble could easily land herself in a spot of trouble with her sharp tongue and quick temper. That was made worse by her independent streak that had her venture off unaccompanied for the most part. She was also one of the better healers in the halidom and could hold her own in a fight against other mages if needed. Nicola, conversely, was very good with spears according to Phila and most others who had seen him fight and had a rather cool disposition when not unbalanced. He could also punch through enchanted armor meant to withstand blows from men thrice his size, though he disliked that a great deal.
They were supposed to get along with one another in theory, but that was further from the truth in reality. They'd hardly been together for five days and they had been at each other's throats from the very first. Judging from the dirt that smudged both of their clothing, they'd recently gotten out of a scrap with one another or some other party. The ruffians Maribelle mentioned came to mind. Perhaps they were bad luck charms when together. It made sense from the number of incidents they reported each day.
At the very least they were good at looking out for one another regardless of their differences.
"Lady Maribelle, if you can bear with Ser Apollonia accompanying you for two more days, all will be well. Princess Lissa and Prince Chrom will be returning by sunrise on the third day, so please bear with him for just a little longer," Phila breathed in Ememryn's place and the Exalt fought back a headache. "Nicola, please treat Lady Maribelle with the utmost respect. She is a noblewoman and that should be taken into consideration as you speak with her."
"I will once she ceases to refer to me as 'ruffian,' Phila. I call her by her name and title, not 'pink lady' or 'Pinky' or anything like that."
Maribelle bristled in reply, but reined in her temper. Two days. Two days and then her dealings with the ruffian before her would end and she would be reunited with her darling Lissa. Hopefully the next two days passed quickly, before she tried braining the disrespectful youth with her parasol again. It would be entirely worth it.
On Nicola's part, he didn't mind Maribelle, but he had half a mind to run her up to the tallest point in the halidom and leave her there. It was a mean thought, perhaps even a cruel one because the other voice agreed with doing so, but he wouldn't do it without a fair reason. Sadly, her nagging at him or popping him with her parasol when displeased were not fair reasons. At least he only had to deal with her for two more days, then she could bother Frederick or Chrom or even Virion for all he cared. They just needed to make it two more days. It was unfortunate that both of them were unlucky.
The following day saw the two of them surrounded by an angry group of organized nerdowells as Nicola looked for a shop with a sketch pad and pencils or similar for sale. That surprised the blonde noblewoman, who expected that Nicola's hobby was simply training or snooping around the royal archives. No shop sold what he was looking for, not to the specifications he was looking for at least, so it was time to contact an Anna. An hour of haggling and arguing later, Maribelle helped Nicola get a fair deal on the supplies he wanted. She then denied his thanks, stating it was her duty as noble to ensure that commoners, foreigners and the like were given fair treatment. Nicola didn't quite believe her with the embarrassed look she had, but let the topic drop. He did pay for the supplies himself, surprising Maribelle with the sheer amount of wealth he had on his person. Her and every thief and cutthroat within six hundred or so feet.
"I believe I am beginning to think keeping you around is more trouble than it is worth, Nicola," Maribelle said blithely, looking over the group of near two dozen people. She wasn't going to be able to cast spells here due to the chance of harming a civilian, just like the last time they'd been attacked in the town. That was a shame, she was easily annoyed when having to clean any blood and dirt out of her parasol.
"Oh? But then you'd be handling these lugs on your own, Lady Maribelle, and that would be a rather dirty affair," Nicola shot back. The noblewoman rolled her eyes at him in response. "I'll take the bunch on the left and you take the bunch on the right?"
"That will suffice, assuming you can remotely keep pace with one such as myself," Maribelle retorted as she pointed her parasol outwards.
"Don't eat those wor-"
"Oi, stop letting them flirt and mug 'em already," a thief called. The others grumbled in agreement and began to advance as both Nicola and Maribelle's eyes narrowed. They shared a look and nodded. Insinuating that they were flirting was a line not to be crossed. They'd save that particular thief for last.
"Such impudence," the noblewoman hissed, pressing her back to Nicola's
"Yeah, they're in for it now," the barehanded spearman nodded, raising his fists. Him and Maribelle may not have liked each other in the slightest, but they weren't about to let some fools get the better of them. They'd worry about reporting everything after the fact.
Thirty minutes later, a group of Pegasus Knights arrived at the scene of what could have been a bloodbath. Over a dozen broken, groaning forms were scattered across an alleyway and partially into the streets on either side of it. Half looked as if they'd been hit with a small and blunt object numerous times, covered in large welts and ugly bruises that ranged from black to a sickly green. The other half looked like they'd taken single, heavier blows that left them curled into balls or hunched over in pain. In the center of the fallen group sat a duo of roughed up, but victorious troublemakers.
"Ow! That stings, you oaf," growled Maribelle as Nicola dabbled a wet cloth across a thin cut on her cheek. The two of them were covered in bandages and small scraps. Nicola looked like he bore the brunt of injuries, his entire right arm covered in bandages, while angry red lines that had been recently healed and small cuts decorated his plain tunic. Maribelle had more scrapes and dirt on her than he did, though most of those appeared to fade just before or just after Nicola reached them with the cloth.
"Perhaps you won't try blocking a knife with a piece of plain fabric next time," the bandaged youth returned. "You'll need steel threaded fibers at the very least, you fool."
"Says the one who nearly got stabbed!"
"Coming from the person who would have been stabbed if I hadn't stepped in!"
"I had that one right where I wanted him, thank you very much!"
"Behind your guard and in your face?"
"Within perfect throwing range of you."
"Is that why I had to stop him from stabbing you in the ribs?"
"Yes, you were quite helpful," Maribelle nodded, brushing herself off. She gave Nicola a sideways look. "Be quicker next time. The less blood on my clothes, the better."
"I'll try to remember that the next time you stumble in the middle of a thrust and leave yourself open."
"Oh, you little-"
The Pegasus Knights watched in dumbfounded silence as the noblewoman and spearmaster squabbled back and forth, completely oblivious to their presence. At least they were both fine for the most part. Probably. They probably needed to be broken up before they killed one another trying to flirt after a fight. As much as they caused a fair bit of trouble in the past few days, the Wing Commander would burn them alive with her disappointment if they killed each other. It being a potential scandal in the making was second to that.
The knights involved later learned that the pair was not in fact flirting, they simply got along like two angry wyverns stuck in a pit with one another. That was fair enough. At least the day before and the day of the Shepherds' arrival was peaceful.
A/N: So, I had this chapter done a long while ago, but never had the time to actually get it fully on paper and edited. As it turns out, not getting more than three hours of sleep a night at best then passing out in the middle of the day drastically reduces one's ability and will to write and edit. With that in mind, I'm going to give the next chapter an extra week to buffer so that I can see about getting some proper rest and be fully ready to write productively. Still, sorry about the delay in that regard, I should have done better.
The first part of this chapter was also much longer than I thought it would be, so I ended up having to split the chapter before the Shepherds fully return, with some additions. That will happen next chapter, plus the start of the next major event.
With that said, if you do like this story and want to find more stories by other authors for Fire Emblem and other fandoms alike(many more talented than myself by a decent margin), swing by the Fanfiction Treehouse Discord Server (Code: 9XG3U7a). There are plenty of brilliant writers there in the process of telling their own stories or having already told their stories. It's a pretty nice place and there are plenty of chill people willing to talk about writing, gaming and a tonne of other things. They also have a Podcast on Spotify called the Fanfiction Treehouse Podcast and a YouTube channel by the same name (Fanfiction Treehouse) if either interests you.