Chapter 4
A Rising Threat
Atris found himself in a land he didn't recognize. Hardly something for him to be surprised at. He observed the steep hills that dominated the landscape instead of the gentle rolling lumps of southern Ylisse. The grass appeared to be far more golden brown in color as well, perhaps he was still in Ylisse, but far more to the north. Looking in the same direction, he saw what appeared to be a fence, and perhaps the makings of what had been a recently seeded field. Walking towards the field, a village soon came into view. Atris called out and was greeted with an ill silence that unnerved him. Clenching the hilt of his blade, he slowly explored the center of the village.
"Empty..." He muttered and with even greater caution began to explore the houses in the center of the small village. They weren't abandoned, if anything they appeared to recently have been occupied. Tables had been set, stew was still cooking in some of the cauldrons, he even came across a makeshift swing still in motion as if its user had just left.
Gripping his chest, Atris took a breath and steeled himself. Backtracking to the center of the village when a series of sickening snaps and cracks came from behind him. Turning he found dozens of Risen behind him. With a panicked scream, he unleashed several bursts of thunder at them. Each spell felling a Risen, but it seemed four more appeared to replace each one fallen. He was going to be swarmed if this kept up, and to make matters worse, the stiff movements of the previous Risen were not to be found in these ones. Once they had focused on him, they moved with purpose, one which he didn't want to find out.
Sprinting from the village and into a nearby forest, the Risen pursued him with an even greater fervor. He had hoped the forest would thin their numbers and provide some form of cover to break their sight. The tactician soon found his path barred by several of them. He had put a good bit of distance between himself and the horde, using spells would only bring greater numbers, and so he charged in drawing his blade.
Engaging with the closest of the creatures, he deflected its weapon away and followed through with a swift decapitation. He felt a small whip of wind as he stepped to the side dodging an axe blow and striking back at the second Risen with an effortless dismemberment of its axe arm. It seemed confused by the loss of both its weapon and its arm, and this gave Atris enough time to run the monster through, his blade meeting where its heart was. A violet dissolution and the familiar eruption of dark miasma soon followed; it was not long before the final Risen was upon him.
He was too late with his attempted parry however, and instead of blocking the creature entirely, he felt its rotted blade bite into the flesh of his outer thigh. Gritting his teeth, he fought through the pain and refocused his attack on the monster. Ducking underneath one of its strikes his blade sliced halfway into the left leg and then he slammed his body into it knocking it prone. With a final push he plunged his sword downward into the chest of the abomination, finally ending the prolonged skirmish.
He found himself in a mixture of a run and a limp putting more and more distance between the horde and himself. Finally, he had to rest for a brief moment, the pain in his thigh burning as he fell sitting on the ground. His breath was ragged as he tried his best to attend to his wound, for some reason he didn't have a vulnerary on him.
A howl in the distance sent his blood cold, and he stood immediately to his feet pushing down any pain that came from doing so. A massive pack of wolves ripped through the forest, or at least they had been wolves at some point. Rotting beasts of decayed flesh and exposed bone circled him, the leaves on the ground whipping into vicious cyclone. He blasted the first two that attempted to leap at him, and cleaved two more near in half, before the fifth pinned him to the ground.
The beast's claws landed on top of his arms, shredding his coat and piecing his muscles. He refused to scream as a bubbling warmth flowed up and covered his arms. Gritting his teeth so hard he thought they would crack, he looked at the wolf's gaping maw and his mouth hung open at what was there. A face, a human-like face that appeared to be crafted from flesh stared back at him.
Utterly stricken by the horror he saw, The Silhouette came into view, its form gesturing at the largest wolf in the pack. It walked to him, and he braced for death, but instead the creature stood on its hind legs as if to become some hideous parody of a human. Its bones snapped into irregular shapes as the form of the beast began to change until it was no longer some nightmarish imitation.
An armored figure stood before him alongside The Silhouette. The Figure was encased in what must've been once a marvelous suit of armor, marred with blood and the marches of time and ruin. The Figure tilted its head at him as The Silhouette nodded. Atris couldn't take it any longer. He began screaming.
"Risen! Wolves! Risen Werewolves!" He screamed as his body, now free to move, flailed about and he soon found himself thrown from his chair from the panic. Finally coming to realization of where he was, he began to calm down, but still he gripped his chest as he came close to hyperventilating.
Something slowly began to grab his attention though, still looking for the wolves and the Risen he hadn't noticed it before, but he had come to now. Lissa was doing all she could to not collapse to the floor laughing. She appeared to be trying to say something, but her fits prevented her from doing anything but letting out short incomprehensible gasps. He simply stared at her in complete shock.
"Sleeping p-p-pinched your nose!" She barely wheezed out as she was close to tears despite her attempts to calm down.
"By all there is, Lissa, I was sleeping!" Atris tried his best not to yell at her, as he attempted to deescalate his anger into annoyance. The prank may have been funnier to him if the dream hadn't been so horrifying.
"I'm- sorry, I'm sorry. Just, it was too good to resist, you looked like a little tactical angel laying there. Didn't think you'd dream of Risen Werewolves though, here's hoping our enemy pick up their dating tips from Virion, eh?"
"Too good to resist? Is this how your parents raised you!? To give people sleeping heart attacks!" He scolded her, his annoyance flashing back to anger briefly, as the princess flinched from him. Atris immediately began to regret his harsh tone to her, seeing her entire demeanor change so suddenly.
"I... I never knew my parents..." Lissa looked forlornly to the wall, her tone matching her gaze.
"I-I'm so sorry, Lissa. I didn't know. I..." Atris trailed off. He stared at the young royal, he tried to think of something, anything to try and make up for this. "I... I don't know anything about my parents either! So... so..." He blurted out almost excitedly thinking it would make things better, until he realized what he said. He thought back to the moment with Exalt Emmeryn, that same hollow pain was back, but the worse part was that his words had made that pain far more material.
Lissa stared at him, her mouth slightly agape, it appeared that she also hadn't realized how similar they were in this regard. But there wasn't any comfort to be had in this fact. The two sat in an awkward silence until she took his hand in both of hers and gave him a small smile.
"It's okay, Atris. You didn't know, given how cooped up you've been in this room studying or out training with Frederick, I can't say I'm too surprised." Lissa seemed to have bounced back to her older self, if only a little. While he couldn't exactly put all the feelings that had been dredged up back in the box, he was at the very least happy to see Lissa coming back around. "That said... I do have something to apologize for, or well something else I should say."
"O-of course, Lissa! Whatever happened, its water under the bridge!"
"Thank, Naga! You see, when you woke up after my prank you kinda knocked that inkwell all over the journal you were writing in." Atris stared at her for a moment and realized two things, one he had been on the floor the entire time. Scrambling to his feet he looked over to see what the second thing was, and he couldn't help but let out a groan. His support log was ruined, he could already feel the cramp in his hand come back as Lissa was blurting out apologies in a rapid and near incomprehensible manner.
"It's fine, Lissa. I can always just do it over again." He told her, trying to keep the dread of having more work piled on him out of his voice. Suddenly he felt a warmth around him as Lissa rushed him from behind giving him a tight hug. Chuckling, Atris patted the hands that were locked around his stomach.
Eventually he broke the hold the blonde princess had over him. Cleaning up the mess from the prank, he turned to the healer who was whistling and snapping her fingers making a small upbeat tune. The question came up of why she was here to begin with. Surely, she hadn't just been here to solely prank him. Lissa went quiet, her eyes widened and lit up for a moment before she ran off, the words "dinner is getting cold" trailing behind her. His own stomach growling now, he sprinted off after her.
It was nice eating with the Shepherds for the first time in days. Stahl waved excitedly trying his best to devour a rather large piece of pork, and he appeared to be winning. Chrom turned around to see who Stahl was waving at, a large grin appearing on his face as he welcomed the resident tactician, Sumia also seemed to perk up seeing Atris. The other Shepherds also greeted him warmly, but those three were the ones who stood out to him.
The night went on as the Shepherds enjoyed the last big meal they'd have before the journey to Regna Ferox, they planned to leave to leave the day after next, and they planned to leave early. Chrom tried to persuade Atris to enjoy a bit of wine, but he declined. He had heard enough tales of Vaike's excesses to be a bit hesitant to indulge in the drink, besides he wanted to be as clear-headed as possible for the journey.
Atris tossed and turned as his eyes cracked open slightly. The small window in the barracks letting in the morning light to show how long he had slept in. Despite his best efforts he simply laid there, tossing and turning drifting back into bouts of micro-sleep. Eventually a rocking stirred him enough to fully rouse him from his slumber. Vaike was looking down at him with a cocky grin.
"Gotta get up, buddy. Geez, even Stahl is up and at em' at this point." Atris mumbled something at the man, another rocking of his body rousing him. "Heads up, if you don't get up, I'm gonna start bench pressin' you." Vaike only half joked and soon let out a bellow of laughter at the tactician leaping out of bed. He shot Vaike a rather miserable sounding thanks and was returned with a loud slap on the back that jolted the rest of the weariness out of him. With Vaike's departure he got dressed and walked out into the main room.
Sumia, and Lissa were in the former's reading corner. They appeared to be reading, but it was clear that Lissa was rather disinterested in that and was far more interested in gossiping. He tried to stifle a chuckle at Sumia's face going red from whatever they were discussing, no doubt something about Chrom. Stahl and Virion of all people were sitting together, Stahl was less than gracefully wolfing down some form of pastry much to the archers perplexment.
Stepping outside he saw Sully, and Vaike sparring fiercely with one another. Frederick observing the two of them, and Miriel taking furious notes on the match. If he had to guess who'd win, he'd put money on Sully. Vaike was no slouch in combat, but Sully lived to train and tended to throw the other Shepherds around. The winner would most likely go on to face Frederick, but all that would result in is a thrashing for the challenger.
"Sully, if you would please duplicate the maneuver you just performed," Miriel instructed as the crimson cavalier looked at the mage dumbstruck at the unexpected request. The sudden realization of her match dawned on Sully, a panicked yelp came from her as she ducked underneath Vaike's axe swing and found herself deadlocked with the man.
"Geez, Miriel! Kinda busy right now!" Sully threw off Vaike and charged in to meet him head on. Atris couldn't help but laugh at the situation as he walked away. A certain cavalier's words of "Oi, shut it, Atris!" only encouraged him to laugh even harder.
Walking the courtyard, he found himself coming to a small lake that was near the royal gardens. Standing by the shore he looked out to the water and stared at it. He didn't know why, but he suddenly grabbed a rock and threw it into the lake. He watched the ripple disrupt the surface of the water, until the surface calmed and appeared as if it had never been disturbed at all. It was a calming thought, or perhaps comforting was the better word for it. No matter how many times he threw a rock causing chaos, everything would settle back down and resume the calm before the violent disruption.
He wondered if the same would be true of him. Would he ever get back to the calm that was before his loss of memory? Lost in his thoughts he failed to hear the approach of a certain prince who grabbed his shoulder. Startled, he nearly fell into the lake, Chrom pulling him back as the two found themselves on steady ground now. After a moment to see if they were truly grounded, Chrom let out a small sigh of relief, the last thing either wanted was to get soaked.
"If you're trying to skip stones, you're going about it the wrong way," Chrom said as he grabbed a rock and zipped it across the surface of the lake causing multiple ripples as the stone skirted atop the water.
"Okay, that was amazing! How'd you do that?" Atris turned to Chrom truly excited by the small feat. The prince stared at him for a moment before letting out a small and warm chuckle.
The two spent some time at the lake skipping stones, and he picked up quite quickly due to Chrom's mentoring. Time seemed to skip by just like the stones across the water as noon was approaching and with haste. It finally dawned on the prince just how much time passed as they threw their last stone and looked at him.
"Hey, I actually meant to discuss something with you. I guess I got sidetracked. Mind following me somewhere more private?" Chrom asked, and Atris answered with a quick nod. The two departed the lake and the gardens, making their way to one of the many unused rooms in the palace. Closing the door behind them, Atris saw Chrom leaning against a desk, his arms crossed on his chest, and a pondering frown spread on his face. The two stood in silence for a bit.
"So..."
"So...?"
"Alright, I'm just going to come out and say it. Atris what exactly are your intentions with my sister?"
"Whoa! Where is this coming from, and what's that supposed to mean!? Weren't you defending me against Frederick's theory about me being a sleeper agent!?" A mix of shock, hurt, and anger vibrating in his voice, much to Chrom's apparent confusion and distress.
"W-what!? I... that... I don't mean what are your intentions with Emm, I mean what are your intentions with Lissa!?"
"Lissa? Intentions? Chrom, what are you going on about?"
"You're... you're joking right?" The prince stared at him blankly, the situation growing more awkward by the second. Pushing himself off the desk, the blue-haired royal began to get a bit red faced. "Wow... this is not how I expected this to go. Okay, so, erm. You are aware you've expressed certain actions towards her, right?" The painful silence that followed seemed to answer him, as Chrom started to get redder and grew more and more flustered. "Okay, fine! Are you trying to court my sister!? Saving her life was one thing, but then you gave her your coat in the forest, there's all the time you've been spending together, the meals she brought you while you were locked up in that room." Chrom started and continued to list things, but Atris had zoned out when asked if he was trying to court Lissa. Was he trying to do that? He thought he was just being nice, could his actions be seen as a call to romance? "Look, it's definitely sudden, but-"
"L-Lissa! Romantic!? N-n-no... I, no, it's nothing like that! I-I swear!" Atris blurted and stammered out as his brain started to cook itself from the thought of being involved with Lissa like that. He felt a hard force against his chest as he snapped out of it. Chrom smacked his chest with the back of his hand, the prince trying his best to not laugh at his friend's breakdown.
"Calm down there, lady killer. I should've known better; especially given the way you were eyeing a certain pegasus knight in the middle of the reflection chamber." Chrom snickered and looked at the tactician with a playful affection. Atris couldn't return that affection though, the constant victim of the siblings teasing he thought back to that time with Sully and resolved himself.
He punched his friend in the arm as he stared down the prince who could only stare back bewildered. A slight frown formed on their face, and Chrom returned the punch, still the tactician did not back down and retaliated with a second punch far harder this time. The prince rubbed his shoulder as the two seemed to size each other up, and finally Chrom's arms started to fold the slightest of smiles found on their face.
"So, this is how it's going down then?" The blue-haired man's smile now became an incredibly smug smirk. It took all of two moments for Atris to come to his decision.
"Yep, that's exactly how it's going to go down." He returned the smirk and began to take off his coat, folding it neatly in the corner before the two lunged at each other. It didn't take long before the childish play fight found itself upping the ante. After only several minutes both men found themselves flung through the closed door breaking it off its hinges. Slightly dazed, Atris soon found himself thrown onto his stomach, Chrom straddling his lower back as he felt himself put into an armlock. He grunted loudly in pain as the prince leaned down
"Say uncle!"
"Naga, help me if I end up being in your family tree!" The prince was in the middle of laughing when Atris smacked the back of his head into Chrom's face. Finding the grip loosened on his arm, he flipped around so now his waist was being straddled instead and wrapped his arm around the man's neck and forced him headfirst into the ground. Chrom's frustrated and pained groans as they tried to escape the hold was sweet satisfaction to him. "How's the floor taste, 'nephew'!?" He felt a solid punch to his ribs, but it didn't stop his laughter. It was nice to finally get one over on his friend.
The two continued flipping around, exchanging the occasional punch to the side, or arm, but not to the face, it felt like an unspoken rule. Eventually, Atris found himself on top of Chrom, but was locked in a rear chokehold. Trying to put distance between his neck and his friend's bicep he noticed something in the corner of his eye. It was Sumia, and her face was such a deep red that he was worried all the blood had simply rushed to her head. Atris, trying to gasp out what was going on, finally just forced Chrom to look in the woman's direction as his grip slacked. The tactician pried himself off the man taking a deep breath and letting out a series of hacking coughs.
"S-Sumia, what-" Chrom began to ask in between his pants before the woman took out with a startling speed, not even tripping once. Both men looked at each other red faced and tired as the two started laughing. Standing up they dusted themselves off, with him helping Chrom get untangled from his cape. Despite the tactician's warnings earlier, the prince was not discouraged from parting with it, but perhaps now he was at least having second thoughts. Suddenly it hit him.
"Hey, out of curiosity does Lissa have a crush on me?"
"Huh? Oh, yea absolutely. I'm completely convinced she has a crush on you, pretty sure she's enamored with Marth too. That said, don't worry about it too much, Lissa's fancies come and go. Heck, she used to have a crush on, Frederick if that tells you anything." As much as he would've snickered at Lissa having feelings for the overbearing and stern nanny knight, he was more focused on his own feelings on the matter. He really didn't know what to feel.
The two went their separate ways, but not after a quick bump of the fist, an odd gesture Chrom showed him, but he found it endearing all the same. The day seemingly blurred before him, and frankly it was disappointing how time seemed to escape him. It was already late afternoon and there was so much he wanted to do and no time. Drumming his fingers on his temple, he finally let loose a snap of his fingers. Running off and "requisitioning" a tome he found a nice and secluded place to try something out.
He was sitting on the ground, two tomes in front of him as he studied their outward appearance. On the left was a book largely in dark brown and gold, a lightning bolt adorned the center. His trusty thunder tome, a spell that unleashed a near invisible crack of energy at an extreme speed. It had a unique quirk in that the spell could be recharged and fired off rapidly at the cost of extra energy expanded.
The other was a green book, a silver scribble meant to symbolize a breeze lay at its center. Wind was more of a support-based spell in most uses. It was capable of disrupting projectiles, breaking falls, and it was also fantastic at stopping aerial units in their tracks or disrupting enemy formations. However, unlike its fellow elemental spells, it did little in the way of direct damage. Still, a highly useful spell all the same. Atris looked at a nearby tree and grimaced at what he was about to do.
Climbing the tree until he neared the top, he took out the book and charged the spell. Looking down he gulped and flung himself from the tree as he neared the ground, he blasted the spell. His descent slowed and at some point, he had actually hovered briefly. The landing was still a bit rough, but it worked! Yet, his mind was beginning to race to a... different possibility.
"So, not only does it break one's falls, but there's also even a brief moment one hovers off the ground," he thought to himself. Continuing to wonder if his newly thought hypothesis was correct that wind magic could possibly move its caster in unconventional ways. After a moment he simply shrugged and decided the only way to find out was to try to see how far this would take him.
As his body moved free of its normal earthly burdens, he found it took him far, too far in fact! Atris had blasted himself from his training spot back into the courtyard and came crashing down into some nearby hedges. He had throttled the spell far too hard, and while the first four attempts to move his body via the spell failed, this time he had succeeded, and learned that the user's body was far more susceptible to this newfound movement the more compact they were.
Groaning, he swore he saw stars as a shadowed form came into view, two of them once he noticed. He squinted trying to focus through the latest bit of trauma he put himself through as he noticed it was Exalt Emmeryn, and alongside her was a man dressed in a mix of resplendent armor and robe alike. Scrambling to his feet from the hedges he knelt before the very amused exalt.
"I fear you're working rather too hard, good tactician. I hardly expected you to try and master flight." A mirthful chuckle coming from the ruler. He couldn't help but share that mirth alongside her, he had to admit someone quite literally flying into the hedges wasn't something to be expected. "It's times like these, I'm reminded that I'm truly the sister of my younger siblings. Despite your injury, I couldn't help but tease you. Tell me though, are you okay?"
"I must admit that little sail through the sky banged me up a bit, but it's nothing to worry about, your Exaltedness." He answered her, and felt her hand placed on top of his head, a soft and caressing energy crept inside of him. It was similar to how Lissa's healing worked, but the exalt was doing this without a staff. Was this a result of her lineage to Naga? Regardless, he found his pain from the fall and from his and Chrom's little wrestling match fading.
"I fear part of my job is to worry for people, Atris. I can't heal them all, but I can heal at least some. Truth be told, I was hoping to run into you, perhaps in a less hazardous way. I wanted to ask a favor of you, if you would be kind enough to do me this courtesy."
"Of course, your Exaltedness! Just tell me what it is you wish of me, and I will do everything I can do to make so."
"I... I wish you to look after, Chrom. We face a time of trials in our future, and I worry over my brother."
"Chrom? I mean no offense, but if anything, Chrom should be looking after me. He far exceeds me in swordplay." He joked and was rewarded by an amused grunt from the man who stood by Exalt Emmeryn. The man appeared to be in his fifties, his hair steel grey and tied back. While his hair was rather ordinary in appearance the same could not be said of his beard which was full and styled to the point of magnificence. The exalt, however, didn't share the same amusement, she opened her mouth as if to speak, but said nothing. She paused as if thinking how to word it.
"My brother is indeed skilled with a sword, but as a tactician you must be aware there are things no single sword, nor spell can solve. I ask you to protect him from these. I know not why you were brought to us, Atris, yet I trust you utterly in this regard."
"You're Exaltedness... I fear you're putting too much praise on someone you've yet to really know yet." He felt a bit flustered from the unwarranted praise.
"I also trust you won't be responsible for breaking anymore doors. I truly would hate for you two to cause a diplomatic incident in Regna Ferox." The same mirthfulness returned to her, as the color drained from Atris' face at the thought of Lady Emmeryn knowing of the wrestling match earlier. A sweet melody of laughter came from the exalt as she shook her head at him. "Be well, Atris. I look forward to your return, I would like to know the man whom my siblings have so fondly taken too." Bowing to the paralyzed tactician, Lady Emmeryn took her leave flanked by the man who had also given a short bow to him. Atris, however, proceeded to slowly sink and disappear back into the hedges out of pure mortification.
After a time spent recovering his dignity, he emerged from the hedges properly and had a stretch, his neck somewhat stiff from how he rested there. Judging by the sun, the tactician had around an hour or so before dinner. With a deep sigh, he figured he'd start on that book he borrowed from Sumia, at the very least he'd be able to fake his way if she ever asked about it.
Heading back to the barracks and taking the book from underneath his bunk, he got comfortable on his bed and started to read from it. The book detailed the love and journey of two adolescents, one a regular human, and the other a creature likened to a Risen, but less rotting and corpse like and needing to subsist on blood.
At first, he was puzzled by the story. It was... well it was shockingly bad. Did people actually like these kinds of books, was he just a snob? Baffled he continued to read, and sometimes rereading the same page several times as he stared in a mix of bewilderment and amazement. It was like an explosion inside his head, so many years of literary knowledge flooded his head. He felt such a rush from the influx of knowledge and the borderline comical, awfulness of the story.
Atris was completely, and utterly enraptured and found himself giggling madly at certain parts, particularly scenes which focused on the shirtless nature of the male characters, it was so absolutely shameless, so absolutely gratuitous and he loved it. Daresay he loved this book, and for the worst reasons possible. He hadn't even noticed when Stahl shook his shoulder spooking him. Atris fumbled with the book hiding it behind his back, as he looked at Stahl like a child who had been caught stealing sweets.
"So... good book then?"
"No, no, no you don't understand! It's... complicated."
"Heh, regardless it's time to eat. I'll give you a chance to explain another time maybe." As if on cue Stahl's stomach growled and he gave a low chuckle. Supper was light that night, not just in food, but in conversation. There was a bit of tension in the air about journeying to Regna Ferox. Weeks away from home, the Risen, and the increasing "bandit" raids. The Shepherds were on edge and would most likely stay so until they set out in the morning.
It was a somber march in the morning. No goodbyes or farewells, as Chrom and Lissa did so with Lady Emmeryn last night, and strangely enough none of the other Shepherds were from Ylisstol. Bits of chatter could be heard amongst the Shepherds, a few times people jumped in fright not realizing that Kellam was with them. He still didn't understand how that man seemingly became like a ghost, at first, he thought it was just an elaborate joke. The tactician in him started thinking of reassigning Kellam as a scout at this rate when a grumbling next to him snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Jeez, I'm so hungry. I still don't see why we needed to skip breakfast." Stahl moaned his stomach growling in agreement with his words.
"Hey, Stahl, I got some bear jerky if you want it?" Atris snatched some of the jerky from his coat pocket and unwrapped it.
Stahl gave him a look that was like a puppy being offered a treat, and gratefully took some of the jerky chewing enthusiastically. He had never seen what Stahl's preferred armor. He, like Sully, favored a sturdy breastplate, gauntlets, and heavily armored legs. Just as with the red knight, his armor favored green, viridian if he judged correctly.
"Out of curiosity, Chrom didn't want to talk about it. What happened during Frederick's Fitness hour?" Stahl made a loud gulping sound as he washed the jerky down from his flask and sighed contently, before turning his gaze towards the amnesiac.
"Huh? Oh, yea that. Well, to make a long story short you passed out."
"That hardly sounds so bad, I passed out the first time Frederick ran me out."
"Yea, but... erm, well, you passed out, but your body was still moving and reacting to orders." Stahl half whispered and looked a bit uncomfortable. Frowning the knight realized he'd have to go into greater detail. "We didn't notice it till we had to pull you out of a lake, but somehow you were running, doing pushups, doing everything we were doing. Except, once we actually looked at you, your face was completely glazed over. It was honestly kind of scary. Even Frederick was worried about you."
Atris saw that Stahl was now trying to avoid his gaze, giving him a weak smile. He didn't blame him, in all honesty what he described was unnerving to say the least. Chrom might've had a point about him overworking himself. Still, he was easily the weakest of the Shepherds, barring Lissa, and maybe Sumia. He frowned slightly as the thought occurred to him; he had never seen Sumia fight before. Making a mental note of that, he took a standard book from his pack and started to work on the camp assignment roster. With any luck he'd have the next few days done.
They had been more than half a week into their journey, and he was already feeling a bit frustrated. The task of evenly rotating camp chores to avoid burn out was annoying to say the least, especially given some the Shepherds quirks. Stahl for instance was the best cook they had in the camp (go figure) and had a rather impressive knowledge of foraging. That said you needed to watch him; else he was likely to eat whatever he brought in or cook.
Sully while fantastic with a spear and a remarkable hunter, suffered from a culinary curse that saw pretty much any food she tried to make an inedible slop, somehow even something like smoking meat was affected by this weird affliction. Frederick was Frederick, reliable all around, Kellam was either the best night watchman or the worst depending on who was trying to see him, and so on.
The tactician was sitting in his tent cross legged, and over a makeshift table he had strewn together. Recording the various skills and talents of his companions again, when one of them walked in. Their light blue hair shining in the dying light, Virion. Closing his book and giving the mysterious noble his attention, he would be greeted with an oddly extra charming smile from said noble.
"Still hard at work as ever, good tactician?"
"Sadly, I've far too much to live up to if I want to see to the Shepherds safety." There was a glimmer in Virion's eye, but he couldn't exactly read the man. Virion was always an oddity like that, normally Atris had a good grasp on people, or well he thought he did.
"That's exactly what I wished to hear, my good man. With that said, perhaps you could humor me with a rather insignificant bit of your time." He tilted his head slightly at the man's words showing his curiosity to the archer. "I wish to engage you in a small game. Now, before you speak and rebuff my offer, it will afford you some guidance for the future."
"A most generous offer, from the 'Archest of Archers'. That said besides some fine company, what does this game offer you?" Atris half joked, but he swore he saw the shine in the noble's eye brighten.
"It will simply offer me peace of mind, Atris."
Virion's tent was among the larger ones of the group, also quite a bit "fancier" although Atris would've used the word tacky. He never knew how the archer managed to break this thing down to the point it fit in the convoy as easily as the others, but it didn't hold up the group. Looking at the grandiose embroidery that littered the walls of the tent. The tactician blushed upon seeing a rather risqué bit of art on the tent walls and was only shifted away from it when Virion brought out a rather large box.
The noble set forth a large board and started assembling numerous pieces on it. The game was broadly like chess in the sense it was a tactics-based game centered around preventing the king, or in this case the commander from being captured. That was where the similarities ended though, this game included terrain, types of movement, movement cost, different forms of attack, dice and so forth. Virion explained that his time in Ylisstol finally allowed him to complete his set, and he lamented that the game hadn't caught on in Ylisse.
Despite how complex the game seemed at first, he couldn't help but be drawn with an immense interest to it. Perhaps he had played this before, as he caught onto the rules rather quickly, the two running a practice match to see how well Atris remembered them. With the true game playing out, there was a stark difference between the two, that he simply couldn't ignore. Virion was so confident in his moves, so absolutely sure of his path to victory. It unnerved the tactician who couldn't help but see the Shepherds in each piece he moved... and each piece he lost. Their first match was a total defeat on the part of Atris, as he stared at his forces destroyed with the noble archer securing victory against him.
"Again."
"Are you qui-" Virion began to ask, but seeing the look on Atris' face was all that needed to be said. "Very well, if you so crave another thrashing about."
The next game went on far longer, the first having ended in around ten or so minutes, with this one taking closer to thirty. Yet, as the first time it had ended in defeat, even with his attempts to adapt to Virion's overly aggressive tactics. He couldn't help but feel the pit in his stomach grow with each piece lost, each Shepherd including the archer who played before him slain by the opposing force.
The two broke briefly for dinner, Atris devouring his with haste and returning to the board, Virion taking his sweet time. The two exchanged opposing looks of seriousness and amusement when they resumed the game. Yet time, and time again the only thing that lay for the failing tactician was a bitter tasting defeat. The sixth game seemed to push the archer at the very least. The normally smug and confident face being replaced with a more methodical and contemplative one. He thought he actually had a chance to beat the noble, or well he did until.
"D-damn! I need to retract that piece!" His hand hadn't slipped, he had confidently placed his heavy cavalry just in the right position that would spiral this game into defeat.
"Oh, my dear tactician, if only the fates and generals of the world were so kind. Sadly, for us all they are not." Virion stated with a strangely serious tone, and just as Atris predicted the beginning of the end started.
"Well now... I suppose that is a thorough defeat as any." The tactician looked to the board pushing the feelings of failure down. He resolved himself, just as with his bladework and his magic, tactics was simply another aspect he needed to improve. "I think I'm at that line where my frustrations are just going to get the best of me. Would you play this again with me, Virion?"
"Absolutely, my good tactician. I doubt any of our fellows would take interest in this, besides I consider it an obligation to help you improve. As should you to be schooled by a man of such talents!" Virion letting out a small and refined chuckle, and Atris only being able to return his comment with a roll of the eyes. He was thankful in some small part of his brain for the archer's "help" but still, it didn't bring any relief to the headache he suffered from for the rest of the night.
It was a week into their mission to the Regna Ferox, and they were making good time. They were drawing closer and closer to the border of Ylisse and Ferox, and Atris couldn't deny at the very least he was also experiencing some level of improvement. His swordplay had a marked improvement, to the point he could hold his own at least for a time against some of the other Shepherds.
During this time, he also had a moment to gauge Sumia's own combat abilities. She had an incredible thrust with the spear, even with a blunted tip he felt sorry for anyone on the opposing end of it. The only thing holding her back was her own self-consciousness about her abilities. Even her knocking the wind out of Vaike after a demonstration of his "muscle armor" didn't bring her up. He knew the only way she'd ever see her own ability was unfortunately on the battlefield. Something Atris feared would come sooner rather than later.
Their travels had been largely peaceful and uneventful. No raids by bandits, be they of Plegian association or not. That was until the group came across a village, dead, and deserted village that had resided in a nightmare. Atris paled at the sight of it, a cold sweat beginning to form on his brow. Chrom ordered the group to proceed with caution as the Shepherds explored the lifeless beacon of civilization in the isolated wilderness.
Atris stepped into one of the houses, his blade drawn and his heart pounding. The interior was the same as in his dream, a table set for dinner, a maggot infested stew pot that no doubt once held the family's would be last meal. The swing outside had even been there, but where it had been moving in his dream, it had long been stilled. He found himself staring at the bed of no doubt a child when his body tightened at a familiar touch.
"Are you okay? You look like your heart's about to leap from your chest." Chrom spoke in a soft tone. He turned to his friend; would he believe him? He sighed trying to get a grip on himself. The royal had placed a great deal of trust in him, and it was only right he returned it.
"I-I dreamed of this place. I thought it was just a nightmare brought on by one of Lissa's pranks, but this... this is the place from my nightmare. I think the people here were turned into Risen." He told the prince, who stared at him wide-eyed and drew closer to him, but there was no hostility in his movement.
"They were turned, are you sure?"
"I wish I wasn't..." The two sat in silence, the realization of the situation dawning on them. The threat of the Risen could spiral out of control. They could grow their numbers from the numberless hamlets and villages scattered across the continent, and to make matters even worse they were spreading like wildfire to be so far north in so little time. Chrom marched to the door with a confidence that Atris simply couldn't share. He noticed his friend stop at the door
"Atris." Chrom said as he turned to meet his gaze, the two men stared at one another. They both knew there was nothing else to say on the matter, the only road was forward no matter what. With confidence of his own surging within, he soon found himself in lockstep with the prince. The two would carve that path with steel and spell if need be, they wouldn't fail.
It would not be long before the reality of Atris' nightmare dawned upon the rest of the group. Not far from the village, a piece of land broken by a great river lay before them and littered across it were the walking corpses they had come to know. The village had been inhabited by twenty, twenty-five families? He took out an optical invention of Miriel's that he called a spyglass, a name that irritated the mage, but given the lack of names at the time she ultimately accepted it. From a distance he counted no less than forty-two Risen divided between the river. Twenty-nine to the north and thirteen to the south. Stowing the invention in a safe place for fear of it getting damaged, he looked around and noticed said mage was missing.
"Where's Miriel?"
"Oh, she ran back to the village mumbling about something." Sumia spoke up.
"Fantastic." Atris slapped his hand to his face and exhaled sharply. He noticed that the Risen began making their way to the southern side of the river. "Ah, damn it! No time to wait or we lose advantage." He spoke with the same confidence as he had earlier and began to draw a rough stretch of the future battleground into the dirt with his finger. "Alright, here's how it's going to go. Sully, Frederick you engage the Risen near the small stretch of trees to the west, Kellam, Vaike, Stahl, you'll engage the larger group to the east. Stahl make use of those javelins and your horse to draw their attention so, Vaike and."
He paused for a moment to search for the invisible man and began to grow annoyed when he finally saw a massive gauntlet waving at him. "Kellam can engage with fewer enemies surrounding them. Finally, Chrom, Sumia, Virion, and I will head to defend the bridge as the fight will bring more of the creatures to us. Virion your job will be to focus down archers and light targets, combined with my wind tome we should be safe from stray arrows. Thankfully they all seem to be concentrated to the north. Lissa will hold back near the east group healing where it's needed. Once we've secured the south, we'll make a steady march north cutting the things down."
"Good work, Atris. The plan has been laid out, now tell me Shepherds, are you ready to charge!?" Chrom called out unsheathing his sword. It was the first time Atris actually had a chance to look at it. A silver blade, the center of it struck with lustrous gold. It bore no crossguard, but the blade and the hilt connected forming a teardrop crevice within the sword. A chorus of confirmation to Chrom's question as the Shepherds readied themselves.
"Just let Teach at em'! He's got time for a couple of free lessons!" Vaike almost roared out as he pumped his fists in the air.
"Vaike... where's your axe at?" Lissa spoke up, the entire group now turning their attention to the blond who suddenly lost all color. "Jeez, Vaike again!?"
"T-the first time don't count! I think I left it back at the village." Vaike murmured that last part as he scratched the back of his head.
"It's fine... it's fine. Slight change of plans, Sully will go in place of Vaike, and Virion will go with Frederick. Once you've helped him secure the west, regroup with us at the bridge. Vaike you'll stay behind and wait for Miriel. When she gets here tell her to go to the bridge." Atris stated trying his best to hide his exasperation.
"You have my assurances that I'll complete your task with the utmost haste." The archer declared confidently.
"I like this plan better, been achin' to see No-Show fight!" Sully exclaimed grinning at a worried Kellam.
At least Sully liked the plan more, a brief flash of a smile appearing on the tactician's face. With a cry from Chrom the Shepherds charged and struck fast. The thundering hooves of the three knights kicking up dirt, and dust. Atris grabbed his thunder tome and felt the energy charge up into his palm, he had noticed that the attention of the Risen who were crossing the bridge had been riled and more were following suit. Letting loose several cracks of energy onto the creatures, two wounded, one had been obliterated and violently erupted.
The sounds of the nearby Kellam's armor and shield tanking blows from his own enemies, a quiet roar coming from him as he smashed his large shield into one Risen and skewered another on the end of his spear. Stahl meanwhile had brought his blade down smashing through the guard of one of his foes, his horse charging and knocking aside another as he switched to his javelin to draw the larger hosts' attention. Sully meanwhile charged in and brought her bladed lance to bare impaling it through the skull of the Risen that Stahl had staggered, and then swiftly striking the one that had been knocked prone.
Their sudden attack had earned them the upper hand, but it wouldn't last for long. These Risen were far more different than the ones encountered in the woods, they were far more aware of their surroundings, and moved with a greater gait, just like in his dream. Unleashing another series of thunder spells on the creatures two more were destroyed, one of them previously wounded from his last volley. Chrom engaging his own swept his blade knocking the creature's axe aside the momentum from the strike carried him into a pirouette as the prince bisected Risen entirely.
Finally securing the southern head of the bridge, more Risen had gathered and started to swarm. Atris guessed the number to be around thirteen or so of the creatures, but more were rushing to join their dead legion. Drawing his wind tome, he jumped backward evading a strike from one of them, a spear coming from behind him and delivering a vicious blow that knocked back the creature. Throwing a thumbs up at Sumia he unleashed a blast of wind from his hand either staggering or outright knocking prone the ever-increasing swarm.
Buying them some breathing room, Atris charged up another wind spell, but held the spell for now. Drawing his blade and using his only free hand he deflected a blow and soon found himself binding with the creature, its foul breath turning his stomach when a fist from his right knocked it to the ground. Chrom grinning came into his view, another corpse solider coming from behind the prince. Suddenly, the blue-haired swordsman ducked at the same time Atris swung his blade with all his force and knocked aside the Risen's weapon. Chrom rose to his feet turning and cleaving the creature in half, Atris finishing off the one that Chrom had knocked to the ground.
A whip of wind rushed past the tactician's face, archers. Finally unleashing his wind spell into the ranks of the risen, clatters of wood hit the stone bridge. He couldn't help but gasp slightly from holding the spell for so long. Charging up a thunder spell, he aimed at one of the archers that hadn't been staggered and unleashed the spell. Sumia was being pushed back by one of the dead, until Chrom intervened, smashing his sword down on its weapon and giving her the chance to pierce its heart.
Regrouping together the three stared down the host bearing down on them. Something lit up in Atris, some fire he couldn't quite understand. He and the prince stepped forward holding their ground. The two became like a bulwark of steel, their blades flashing like lightning as they parried and cut down Risen after Risen. However, even the greatest bulwark still contains weakness perhaps inspired by the fervor in which the prince and the tactician fought, Sumia became a one-woman phalanx any of the dead legion that thought it would pass their barrier of blade and spear found itself doing otherwise.
A spear thrust from the horde pierced Chrom in his stomach, the prince grabbing the shaft at the last moment to prevent it from penetrating further. Another Risen appeared poised to end the prince's life as Atris blocked the death blow one handed, enraged he unleashed a thunder spell from his other blasting the undead spearman into miasma. His arm trembled from anger as he started to push the creature back, however another Risen sprung forth ready to take the tactician's life.
Another spear, one far more friendly thrust from behind him knocking the Risen aside. Sumia was putting everything she had into driving the horde away from them. He heard a deep growl come from Chrom as the man opened their palm and smashed it into the spear shaft. Splintering it on the second strike, the prince unwaveringly rose, a roar coming from him that vibrated Atris' chest. Chrom lunged forward and ended the deadlock, destroying the abomination entirely.
The three of them stood panting as they looked upon the insurmountable challenge that lay before them. Atris wiped the blood from his forehead from a previous injury, his teeth clenched tightly. They were tiring, but their spirits willed them on, they would end this fight and they would win! The three readied themselves for the next assault when a whip of wind past by Atris' head, but this time it was from behind and pierced through the skull of an advancing Risen. Out of the corner of his eye he saw it.
Virion smirking had already loosed another arrow striking another of the corpse soldiers in the chest, knocking it to the ground. Catching a second wind and supported by their archer, the three slowly pushed forward, the sound of galloping against the stone as three horses smashed into the sides of the swarm. A ball of fire hit the center erupting as it blasted apart the ranks. It was then they noticed a shadow covering the three, Vaike had got his axe back and leapt in the air clearing the three defenders as he smashed into the front rank with reckless abandon. A grin on his face as he cleaved a Risen in twain and then another.
"Looks like Teach just got tenure! Chrom, Atris, Sumia time for those lessons!" Vaike shouted out with a fiery joy that felt infectious and charged forth.
"I wish to apologize for my punctuality, some of us appear to be afflicted with an atrocious sense of memory in regards to their belongings" Miriel panted following suit and readying another spell. Truth be told he was just happy they were there.
The Shepherds as one combined force crashed into the ranks of the Risen, and despite the Risen's greater numbers it mattered little to the Shepherds. They had become an unbreakable force upon the battlefield. Making their way to the other head of the bridge they had all but destroyed the wandering host in its entirety. Only stragglers that had yet to join the full force remained, it was strange to observe them in the brief moments he had before they were cut down. They previously were far more coordinated in their attacks, they fought and acted more like people than the shambling slabs of meat they were now. He couldn't help but wonder if the Risen grew stronger in greater numbers.
With the battle fever wearing off, another thing made him shudder, it was the smell. They called the Risen corpses mainly due to their appearance, but gods did they smell the part too. Even with their bodies dissolving into that strange miasma it didn't stop the fact that dozens of them had gathered in close proximity, and they were all eager to leave this place. Once free of the stench of rot and decomposition they broke for a rest to treat their wounds.
Vaike had collected a couple of deep cuts on his chest, hardly surprising given his shirtless nature. Sully had a nasty bruise to her temple and was thankfully not concussed when she took a blow from a Risen's mace, Kellam had shielded her from any further injuries. A fact most of the group became aware of it, when she yelled at him for it, much to his shock. That was mostly her pride talking, Sully was among the best fighters and getting knocked off her horse was no doubt humiliating to her.
Chrom was the one he was worried about though; the spearhead had worked itself in further from the man's fighting. Infection was a real possibility, and while there were healing spells that aided in fighting off such things while healing the person, Lissa was not powerful enough to cast them. Thankfully Sumia tended to him, while Atris tended to his own head wound, a close call with a sword clipping his forehead.
The rest of the Shepherds had their own minor wounds to attend, but overall spirits were high. They had won their first battle and had done so decisively! Finally setting out and resuming their mission, small bouts of playful camaraderie broke out amongst them. A wide smile had come over him as he joined in the rowdy behavior. Thoughts of a quick return and a mission accomplished filled his mind.
Those thoughts had been dashed barely an hour from their brief rest site. They were watching over the scene of a massacre, or what they thought to be one. Pegasai corpses littered the ground their bodies mutilated and torn in half, their wings ripped off and hung from the nearby trees as if to mark some grisly victory or celebration over the dead steeds.
However, that was all that littered the site for all the blood that streaked the fields there were no other bodies, no men, no women, nothing. All that lay before them was butchery and the red ichor that was its byproduct. Atris, as well as the rest of the Shepherds knew full well that there was no possible way that all this blood had come only from the pegasai. It was the battlefield equivalent of the village from earlier.
"I, uh, guess it goes without saying we didn't fight any knights back at the bridge." Stahl nervously stating the reality that no one wanted to accept.
So many unknown variables, did the Risen retain any knowledge or memories pre-death? Would these variables affect the intelligence or cohesion of the group as a whole. Too many disturbing thoughts coursed through the tactician's mind as he imagined numerous scenarios. This was a foe they knew nothing about, except the two surest ways to kill them was decapitation or piercing the heart. Sometimes bisecting them worked, sometimes it didn't. There were times running them through was successful and other times they shrugged it off. Atris swore under his breath, and soon the group moved on from the butcher's field.
It would not be long before something else stopped their journey north. Another field with several bodies strewn about, perhaps those that fled the previous battle, and a lone pegasus that neighed at them in panic as they approached. It kicked and stomped its feet throwing up dust and dirt as it thrashed about the closer they got. The creature had clearly been traumatized, given the number of other pegasai, it was almost certainly the only survivor of its kind from the battle. None of them could get close enough, the animal lashing out at even the most minor of movements toward it.
"Gods, the poor animal. Chrom what should we do?" Lissa looked at her brother, tears forming in her eyes at the creature's suffering.
"Lissa... I..." Chrom cast his gaze to the dirt. They all knew the answer, the animal was gone. Sumia, a former aspiring pegasus knight herself, told Atris near the start of their travel that pegasai were highly intelligent and social animals. To have seen such butchery, such savagery of their fellows would break many people, no doubt it had broken the pegasus as well. He saw Chrom grip the hilt of his sword, his sleeve buckling under his straining muscles and the tightening of his gloves breaking the cursed silence.
The amnesiac looked at the animal, even in Ylisstol he hadn't seen one of its kind before, they had been kept away in a separate part of the palace complex. It made the sight before him all the more horrific. The first live one he had ever seen, such a creature of pristine beauty and majesty and to see its eyes ladened with madness and despair, to know its final moments of life were to be in the throes of such terror and pain. What could he do, what could any of them do!? Damn it, he was a tactician, he was supposed to be smart!
The shuffling of dirt came forth as Sumia separated from the group and approached the crazed animal. The pegasus thrashed and kicked at the very movement and neighed a music of madness and agony at the woman. She would not be deterred; her movement was slow and deliberate.
"S-Sumia! It's-!"
"Captain, trust me." She silenced the prince as his eyes focused on the woman and the pegasus, clear panic laden across his face.
Still, Sumia approached it, the thrashing intensifying. He couldn't hear the words Sumia whispered to the animal. They had an almost song like quality to them. Stepping closer to it, it reared and brought down its hooves with a thunderous slam, Chrom edged forward as if to drag Sumia away.
Perhaps it was based on foolish hope, a dear wish that the pegasus could be brought back to them, but Atris stepped in front of his friend to bar him, Vaike soon following after him. He may have been agitated before with the blond muscle-head, but for now he was grateful that they had sided with him. Chrom bit his lip as Sumia finally placed a hand upon the face of the animal and stared into its eyes, still whispering the same songlike tune she had before. In time it had perhaps calmed is not the correct word to use, but it was the closest he could think of.
"Captain, you and the rest should go. I'll stay here with her." Sumia whispered and slowly stroked the face of the animal.
"Are you sure?"
"I've only been so sure of a couple of things; this is one of those. I'll be back soon, Captain."
"Then I trust you on this, Sumia." The assurance in the prince's voice was clear as he organized the group back together, and soon found their way back on the road.
Atris cast a glance back to Sumia and the pegasus, he had to believe things would work out for the better. The events of the day showed that the world could be pitiless in what it meted out to those who lived in it, but he simply wished this to be the end of the day's cruelty, especially to a creature that had deserved none of it. He put his faith in Sumia, she could do this and with his thoughts soon beginning to focus on the road ahead, the tactician reassured himself one last time of the woman's ability of what he had seen in her during that brief moment so many nights ago.
It was with a somber energy that they broke that night to make camp. Sumia still had not returned. Atris was sitting in his tent jotting down the events of the day in his personal journal. He couldn't quite take the whiplash of their hard-earned victory only to be confronted with the truth of the rising threat before them, the rest of the Shepherds seemed to be of a like mind, as much of the normal chatter was just not there for the night.
Finishing up on his recounting of the day, he cracked open the journal which detailed his knowledge of magic. He couldn't help but feel anxious over his memory, especially after the blow Sully took to her head. Besides, he needed to do something to distract himself, he needed to focus his mind away from the events of today.
'Hello, Atris just a reminder of what your name is should you, uh lose your mind again, I wrote in the other journal too. I wonder if I'll ever get over the paranoia of that happening again. Anyway, I suppose I better explain to you the differences between mages and arcanists.'
'As I said before mages draw their power from the world, where as arcanist have an inner power brought about usually by otherworldly forces, bloodlines, etc. But it goes deeper than that, the amount of power each can draw is vastly different. Mages due to borrowing their power from their surroundings can find themselves limited in the energy that be expanded, while an arcanist due to being have an innate magical bond have a greater reserve of power that can be cast.'
'This grants arcanists a greater versatility when utilizing magic, not just in terms of casting spells either. This greater reservoir of power allows arcanist to hold readied spells for longer, overcharge their spells more frequently and a variety of other things. Now, while this might seem like arcanists are superior to normal mages, there is always a cost for such power.'
'Being intertwined with the essence of magic on such an intimate level is very much a double-edged sword. Due to where the power is drawn from arcanists are more susceptible to the conditions of mana exhaustion and mana shock. I suppose a way to think about it is that for arcanist their very life and their magic are nearly singular. Imagine two threads of twine or wire laced around one another. There's resistance if I should pull up or down on them, but I can do so without causing too much disruption, but if I start yanking them well you get the point.'
'There's other benefits mages have over arcanist in addition to generally safer casting. For instance, because mage's gather their power from the world they can "recharge" their reserves faster staving off fatigue and exhaustion more readily. But in my opinion the biggest difference between the two is how they approach the nature of magic. For a mage magic is to understand the world, for an arcanist it is to understand the self.'
'With the philosophical babble out of the way I should talk about both mana exhaustion and mana shock, mainly to make sure the former doesn't happen to you again. Mana exhaustion is in simple terms when a mage or arcanist has drawn on the majority of the power they can channel. This can leave the caster exhausted, incapable of movement, or they can full on blackout from the stress. I can attest that this state of being utterly sucks, and to avoid it, if possible, because you will feel the effects of it. Know your limits and you'll avoid it just fine though.'
'Now, mana shock is a vastly different beast, and tends to go hand in hand with magical backlash. Basically, this is what happens when you try to channel more power than your body can safely handle, for instance trying to cast a spell above your ability can lead to mana shock. Side effects are far more various than the previous, but all of them are incredibly nasty. Permanant loss of feeling in limbs, blindness, coma, and death are just a few side effects of mana shock, thankfully it like the next thing I'm going to talk about can be avoided by not being an idiot.'
'Magical backlash as the name bluntly states it's basically when a spell backfires. While it's prone to happen from mana shock, this condition is mostly associated with tomeless casting, the body and mind unable to bend the chaotic energies suffer a grievous backlash from the spell being used. Side effects depend on the spell being used, but none of them are pretty. I initially wrote this to distract myself, but all this talk of grisly injury or death...'
The ruffling of his tent flap caught his attention as a lone knight stood there, Frederick. Closing his journal and giving the knight his attention, a thud sounded off as a plain red book with a symbol on the cover hit the ground in front of him. Atris could feel the magic coming from the book without even focusing on it.
"I found this on one of the Risen, Miriel's suggestion was for you to have it... given your uniqueness with magic." The knight spoke plainly, albeit with an edge of wariness in his voice.
Looking at the book closer it was deep red in color, a small flame decorating the center, a fire tome. Remembering back to his studies, it was a spell in which the user conjures a ball of flame and projects it to a certain area, an explosion usually following shortly after. However, the fire could be manipulated in a way to produce a blanket of smoke to obscure at the cost of greater damage. A tricky spell for the crafty, and a hammer for the blunt. Taking it, he placed it on top of his folded coat.
"Thanks, I'm sure it will come in handy." The tactician responded back, hiding his disappointment that Frederick still held a level of distrust in him.
"I... saw your fight briefly on the bridge next to milord. Your fighting was admirable." He eyed Frederick cautiously at the piece of praise he gave him, the man had only given him one genuine compliment in the time he had known him. He knew there would no doubt be more to this. "Yet, milord was still injured under your watch." There it was. "Tomorrow morning you and I will engage in a sparring match, if you are to be in the company of milord, you will not fail to protect him. Understood?" Frederick stared down the tactician, he wondered what was going through the knight's mind, but sometimes it was best not to poke the bear and simply acknowledge its presence.
"Yes, I'll see you in the morning then, Sir Frederick." Atris answered him, as the two continued to stare each other down. He didn't sense the knight as being overly hostile. Was... was Frederick in his own way actually giving him some leeway of trust? He couldn't help but smirk at him, as the knight simply shook their head and left the tent. He yawned and stretched his arms when his eyes fell upon the sword he had suddenly discovered on his person before charging into Southtown.
The thought occurred to him, he never really examined it before, so much had happened that finding anything about himself had taken a lesser priority. He took the sheath blade still within and ran his fingers upon it. The texture was rough, it felt as if the ages itself had taken their wrath upon it, yet there was a resilience he couldn't describe to it. It was primarily colored a faded red, the tip of it bore a single angular stripe that ran along near the tip, above it covering the entire tip was a rough spade shape, a small almost teardrop like hole in the center of it. Both were an age-worn white. Closer to the opposite end of the sheath was a shield-like shape, if any sigil had decorated the shield, it was long weathered and lost to time.
Unsheathing the blade, his eyes trailed along it examining every detail he could. A hand-and-a-half sword, designed with the intent to grasp with both hands, but remained easy enough to wield with one. The pommel was of a rather elegant design, it was in the shape of a diamond separated into eight faces and appeared to be gilded with gold that had not faded to time.
The grip meanwhile was less impressive, long and solid, it filled his hands easily. Coming to the crossguard, it was simple just as the hilt, a solid piece of metal. They were colored gold, but it appeared to be some alloy or different metal altogether as it like the rest of the sword was tarnished.
His eyes turned and focused on the blade itself, by far the most unique feature of the sword. It was as if two different metals had been forged together and combined to form a single blade, the left side being of the same tarnished alloy as the crossguard, while the right was a pale silver spotted with marks of damage.
Was he perhaps of a noble linage, this sword no doubt in its prime had been a thing of glory. Then again who's to say he didn't just scavenge this thing from some gods-forsaken battlefield? Surely if he were of that kind of linage the weapon would've never fallen to such a degree of wear. Yet, the blade itself was still sharp, incredibly so despite its outward appearance. Such an oddity the thing was, it felt like there was a deception going on.
He closed his eyes and focused on the weapon. The world seemed to fade away, first in sound and soon the rest of his perceptions drifted away until only it was him and the sword. Intuition guided him as his energies drifted into the object, he could feel some form of light and warmth from the depths of it. Something was clearly there, but his reach was limited, and he snapped back to the material world heavy with breath. He sheathed the sword and put it near his bedroll and tucked himself next to it. The amnesiac stroked the sheath slowly, and softly, he hoped tomorrow's light would banish the darkness today had brought.
Author's note
Phew, this chapter was longer than I wanted it to be. Let's hope we can get back to something reasonable. *starts screaming internally at chapter 6*
To answer a few questions to ever-steady friend of the story Temporal King. The support log is one way to keep track of the Shepherds and the supports between them, but sometimes Atris will see them, sometimes it will be mentioned in the background, in at least one particular cheeky case he is partially responsible for causing one.
Concerning the vortex of power, that is something very unique to Atris and the entire experience wasn't just a LSD trip, one could say Atris became very familiar with himself.
As to Lissa's age, yea I know she's canonically 15, but I aged her up a bit just to make myself feel a bit more comfortable. That said I did take liberties with some character's particularly Ricken and his parents, the former having a larger part in the story because of it. Same with a certain Plegian down the road.
So, as of right now chapters will be released every other Friday with... some exceptions here soon, but I'll get more into that when chapter 5 rolls in.
Anyway as always to anyone who reads or engages with the story in anyway, thank you. I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter, and see you when the next chapter rolls out!