Chapter 7

Echoes

"C'mon chump! Aren't you supposed to do nothin' but work your arms!?" Sully yelled out her bicep bulging and the veins popping out. She had an iron-like grip around her foe's hand.

"Ha! The Vaike ain't even goin' all out yet! Time to lay the smack down!" Vaike promptly retorted, his bicep bulging just the same as Sully's. Needless to say, he was spouting out pure bravado. There was no doubt Sully was pushing the man to his limit.

All Atris could do was look at the two, both amused and absolutely enthralled at the sight before him. Of all the weird things the Shepherds indulged in, this was something truly special. The bi-weekly arm-wrestling contest between Sully and Vaike had become one of his favorite things to watch. To him it was the greatest display of machismo theater the world over.

"Kellam, you gotta tell me how you do it? Oh, don't give me that look you know what I'm talking about." Stahl suddenly slammed his hands down on the table, catching the tactician's attention. There was a hint of desperation in the cavalier's voice. "How do you always remain so cool in the face of battle, even with Sully and the Captain around I can't help but still get scared."

"Try to actually start practicin, Stuffs!" Sully called out to Stahl who simply sighed at his recent nickname.

"Best keep your eyes front and center Sully, Teach is 'bout to give ya a lesson!" Vaike strainingly grunted as his comment was only met with by an amused snort from his opponent.

"I keep telling you Stahl, I get just as scared as you I just-"

"I call shenanigans, Kellam! You held off an entire platoon with just you, Atris, Miriel, and Virion."

"I-"

"No one else gets selected as Sully's sparring partner with such a cool look on their face!" Stahl exclaimed, suddenly covering his mouth as if a forbidden phrase slipped out.

"Oi! Whatcha say about me!?" Sully bellowed as a crash and a moan of pain soon followed. The human-shaped wreck, formally known as Vaike had been its cause. Atris winced at the sight and sound of the man's arm crashing down to the table. Vaike had nearly opened his mouth when the crimson cavalier silenced him with a look. "Anyone who messes with the bull gets the horns!" She roared and slammed her fists into her chests with a solid thump.

Atris watched the chaos that followed and tried his best not to chuckle. The Shepherds never lacked character. Last night had been rather fun even if he was rather too sore to do much. Just seeing his friends finally let loose after a resounding and successful mission gave him no small joy. That said, the fact he had played a rather big part in that success contributed a large part to that joy.

During the chaos he opted to make himself scarce and retreat back to his room. He had considered going for a walk, but after a quick look at his attire he decided against it. Lon'qu had really shredded his clothes with that damn sword. Thankfully, Sumia knew a thing or two about sewing and offered to mend and even wash his clothes. Of course, this involved parting once more with his beloved coat, a true dilemma for the ages. Even with the addition of his recently acquired fur cloak, the leisure clothes just didn't fight off the cold like his old clothes did.

Opening his "Support Log", he documented the little incident he had just witnessed and thought about what else had happened recently that caught his eye. Frederick and Miriel had been spending quite a bit of time together. The mage apparently had become curious about some of the techniques the knight performed during their spars with each other and wished to learn them. Atris had to admit he was surprised by the mage's desire to learn more martial orientated skills, but then again this was Miriel, who knew if she'd actually apply those lessons on the battlefield or not.

Atris had closed his journal when a sudden knock came at his door. As he went to get up from his bed Raimi burst through, the woman tossing a bag in the air that hit him dead center in the chest. The weight of whatever was in the accursed thing sent him sprawling on the bed. The tactician tilted his head to get a better look at the Feroxi commander, whose smile reminded him of a shark spotting a school of fish. Throwing the bag off of himself, he scrambled off of the bed to confront this latest assault.

"Raimi, just what in the-"

"Figured you'd want your earnings." She cut him off and gestured to the bag she had pelted him with. Curious, the tactician opened the bag to find it filled with Feroxi gold. His mouth hung open in confusion, the commander chuckling with immense satisfaction at the sight. "Bet on you beating Lon'qu. Turns out sudden nobodies coming in and winning against the previous champion pays out big."

"You couldn't have at least waited till I let you in to do this?" Atris grumbled at her, once again she shot that sharkish smile at him.

"This doesn't have anything to do with that Ylissian modesty I keep hearing about, does it?" It took a moment for him to get the meaning behind that statement, but once he did his face became flushed as the commander simply laughed and left him in his flustered state.

Atris really could not read that woman, thinking more on it he wondered if this was some weird flirting attempt. Looking once more into the bag, he started to count his... whatever this was supposed to be when he realized he had no idea how Feroxi currency was valued. Springing to his feet he sprinted off following the commander's laughter.

As it turned out the commander was more than a little generous with the winnings. There'd had been more if the betting pool wasn't so small, but they both made out all the better for it regardless. He had to admit it was nice to have some coin, especially since they would be stuck here for a few days. Atris' brow furrowed as a quick twinge of shame struck him. They were largely stuck here because of his injuries, with Risen and Plegian "bandits" possibly prowling the roads, Chrom wanted their tactician in tip top shape before leaving.

Normally there would've been a feast to follow the end of the tournament, but with knowledge of the Risen it was reluctantly cancelled, many of the clans being sent back to their homes to prepare to fight. While the canceling of the feast had earned a deal of ire, the notion of someone disturbing the dead and using them as weapons earned far much more. For every voice that complained about breaking tradition there were four or five more telling them to shut it.

Due to the threat of the Risen two groups of heavily armed messengers were sent out to spread word of the Ylissian-Feroxi alliance. One group would leave from the Deepfort to be reinforced in the south, while the other would leave via the Longfort. Atris wondered if it was a good idea to send messengers through the oncoming thaw. Eventually the tactician simply kept these thoughts to himself after seeing Chrom had little to any issues on the matter.

Making his way through the city, any of the shame or cold he felt dispersed at the jingling sound of his recently acquired coin pouch. The tactician hoped to find a replacement thunder tome and hopefully acquire a new one at the same time. While it was true the Feroxi weren't heavy magic users this was still the largest trading center in northern Ylisse, surely there'd be something here.

Unlike in Ylisstol, where there were three central trading districts, in the Carved City if you wanted something you had to hunt it down. As Atris waded through the numerous street vendors and stalls that were littered throughout the city the thought came to him, this was a rather Feroxi take on the concept of shopping. Suddenly a familiar voice caught his attention, albeit they were speaking way faster than he remembered them speaking. He turned his head to get a better look at the person who sounded so eerily familiar.

By Naga it was her! She was dressed largely in fur and thick leathers meant for the colder climates, but he knew that hair anywhere, it was Anna. Yet, something seemed... off about her. The Anna he remembered was overenthusiastic to the point of botching a purchase, mainly because she wanted to sell "fun or special things". This one, however, she was hustling sells left and right.

"Hey, Anna! Long time no see!" He ran up to her and called, surely, she'd have some tomes available. He just had to try and talk her down from selling him...

"Well, hello there, hand-." The merchant turned to him, her face briefly full of elation, only to be replaced by one of absolute bewilderment as she stared at him blankly. "I'm sorry... who are you?"

"We met in Ylisstol. It hasn't been that long," he answered her as she continued to stare blankly at him, the awkwardness thickening as it hung in the air. "You gave me this remember?" He went to pull out the paper when he realized it was in pants, the ones being mended by Sumia. The tactician didn't know who to curse in this situation.

"I'm gonna be honest with you, if this is an attempt to haggle, you're doing poorly."

"No, I swear we met in Ylisstol! You were trying to sell me some golden sword of legend or something. You were disappointed when I just wanted a journal...?" The merchant tilted her head and then suddenly exploded with energy as she slapped her hand on the stall.

"Oh! You must've met my sister! Really excitable, likes selling 'legendary weapons' and all other assortment of 'fun' stuff?"

"Yea, that's her! I think you're underselling her bravado though." The merchant smiled at him as her eyes shined slightly.

"Nice to see she made a friend, with that said I'm Anna, not Anna. Completely different person you see, still in a way it's a compliment she is such a sweetie, a terrible merchant though," The merchant said with a bit of a jovial tune. Despite that, he felt her eyes sizing him up. The tactician couldn't help but feel some odd practical joke was being played on him.

"So, you're not Anna, you're Anna?" He said with his brow cocked and not even bothering to distinguish the two.

"Close, I'm Anna, but the particular pronunciation sticks when you meet one of us for the first time."

"So... you're Anna?"

"Yep!" Atris simply gave up at this point. He was utterly broken by the nonsense of the situation he was in that he didn't haggle with the Anna, even when she tried to force him to. Said it was 'too easy a kill', still he did get a nice elthunder tome from her, and for lower price than he thought.

Whether that was due to him knowing her sister, the fact no Feroxi was going to buy the book, or simply because the merchant felt sorry for breaking him mentally, he would never know. He inquired about other tomes she may have had, but this Anna preferred to deal with certainties and not risk. Something about mages and the Feroxi winter, in truth he was only half paying attention at this point.

As he made his way back to the apartment, he withdrew the tome and unwrapped it. The cover was far more golden than its sister spell, several silverish lightning bolts were displayed prominently on the cover. This had been the spell he cast tomelessly back in Southtown, the spell that saved Lissa's life. There was an odd... intimate feeling he had with the spell, as if it was an old family member finally returned to him.

Stroking the cover gingerly he thought of the spell itself. Elthunder was the next step up from a simple thunder spell. Unlike the invisible crack of energy from before, the user would conjure several or more defined bolts of power and fire them from their hand. The number of bolts generated depended on how powerful the user was and how adept they were at casting thunder magic.

Finally returning to the apartment he found it devoid of any of the Shepherds. That was weird, usually Virion stayed behind at least, the man had made no effort to hide his... well snobbery when it came to the Carved City or honestly, the Feroxi in general. With the archer on his mind though he did think it would be a good time for a rematch at that tactics game. With a sigh he took a seat and drummed his fingers on the table in front of him.

With nothing else to really occupy him, his thoughts drifted to that night with Marth. He had been seeking answers, he had been all ready to get those answers too. But seeing them in that state, it felt wrong to press them. There was no small part of him that wished he could do more, but ultimately it was not his decision to make, and he had to trust the swordsman to choose for the better. Still, he couldn't quite shake something about the way he talked, it almost reminded him of how Sully would imitate Vaike when she made fun of him.

In a way he somewhat hated how much thought he was giving the swordsman, but there were things that just didn't make sense, things strange enough that they pricked at him. Pondering more on the enigmatic figure a series of thoughts came to him, the lithe and slender frame, the mask, the voice... was Marth...

"Greetings to the most aspiring of tacticians," Virion said with a spark of unusual cheer since they came north. Atris startled, jumped from his chair and nearly sent it crashing into the man behind him.

"Would you care to not skulk about, Virion!?" Atris almost hissed at the man annoyed that his train of thought had been lost. As to be expected Virion infamously took everything in stride.

"I simply wished to distract you, my friend. You appeared so deep in thought I could see the smoke billow forth, would be wise not to lose such an aspiring pupil as yourself." A glint was clear in the noble's eyes.

"Pupil?" Atris bit his lip staring down the noble, that glint in their eyes only growing. "You know, it's so incredibly clear you're baiting me, and the sad thing is it worked. Break out the board, Virion!" He issued with the same aura of command he had displayed on the battlefield, much to the archer's delight.

While Atris was setting up the game, Virion brewed them some kind of Plegian drink made up from ground beans. Needless to say, he was hesitant at first, a bean drink hardly sounded appeasing to him. Eventually though the noble did persuade him as he took a small sip. There was a creaminess to it, bitterness too, but what surprised Atris most was the sudden kick in energy he got. With a flair of great gusto, he declared himself ready to play!

As opposed to the more generalist match ups, they had the first time they played, they had opted for handicaps for each army this time. Atris chose a lack of cavalry and dedicated heavy infantry while Virion selected mages and aerial units for his. It was certain to make for an interesting matchup to say the least.

As to be expected, Virions ruthlessness on the board was a force to be reckoned with. Still, he managed to repel the initial assault with a clever deployment of his pegasus knights to skirmish the enemy and weaken their charge. Despite the strong start the game ended in a loss for him, as would the next three games.

Looking at the board the tactician drummed his temple and sighed realizing this was the fifth loss in the making. Moving his mages had allowed him to beat back the mounted archers, but his left flank was now vulnerable and without heavy infantry to hold the line it was doomed to fall. As he stared at the board, his focus intensifying, he saw a solution before him. It might not win the match, but it would certainly prolong his defeat.

The tactician organized a split and took the large unit and traded it for three smaller ones. While it'd give a cohesion penalty, and it would take fewer successful attacks to break the line, he'd prevent his left from being flanked while keeping the shield-to-shield bonus. The left would hold until the tactician's next turn when he could redirect his mages and put Virion for once on the defense.

"Equal parts bold and clever to split your flank like that. Sadly, this ends now, my friend," Virion proclaimed confidently. He moved in all of his cavalry forces and charged.

Atris simply gaped at him, the only way the noble would break the spear line was if they rolled a five or greater three times, this was a suicide charge. Virion sent wave after wave of his own horses through at the left until he did manage to break it, and despite the severe losses it allowed for the killing strike of Atris' commander. All Atris could do was stare, his mouth still agape.

"I'd warn you against flies, Atris, but I doubt the vile things can stand this cold."

"You just... I... that was utter..."

"I believe the words you're thinking for are, 'you just won'," Virion said far too delighted with himself. It took everything to not call the archer something particularly foul for the use of such a tactic.

"I believe this is the time to end this session," Atris said in a mechanical tone, still utterly shocked at what happened. Virion bid him to finish the rest of his drink before he left. He obliged the man drinking what remained of the room temperature liquid and tasting nothing.

Sacrificing his units like that allowed Virion to win, but the act had been disturbing to the tactician. He didn't want the possibility of their being merit to such tactics. He'd make sure to challenge Virion again sometime soon to prove just that. The tactician would spend the rest of the afternoon reading up on his warfare treatises, only briefly taking a break to join the other Shepherds for dinner that night.

Atris had been getting ready to turn in for the night when a knock came from the door of his room. Opening the door to find a blue-haired royal at the entrance, silently inviting the prince within his abode, he saw the prince becoming gradually amused by the muted song and dance he was doing. Throwing himself on the bed, he gave off a lazy yawn and stretched out, eventually resting his head on his palms. Atris cast his eyes downward to see Chrom smirking and shaking their head.

"Geez, don't you look comfortable?"

"Hey, I was told to relax and not strain myself too much, doctor's orders and she has a pretty mean looking staff."

"The 'doctor' is going whack you with her staff if you sneak off to see Marth again without her." Chrom finally gave in and emitted a soft chuckle before he took a breath and put on a more serious look. "So, he refused to join us. Did he say why?"

"No, they didn't, our conversation ranged from cordial, to awkward, to frigid to... friendly?" Atris sat up properly as he folded his arms pondering the conversation from before. "Marth reacted incredibly negative to the Shepherds." Seeing the confusion on his friend's face he sighed and continued trying to elaborate. "It was like the group stirred up bad memories. They've definitely got some kind of history with us, plus as you noticed they fight like you moreover."

Chrom's face hardened into a far more thoughtful looking one. Watching his friend pace about the room for several minutes before the two started bouncing ideas back and forth on what was going on. The fact was you couldn't just barge in "say the world is ending" and not elicit some curiosity. That said it made Atris relieved his friend saw it the same way, a small part of him worried he might be a bit obsessive.

The two continued this brainstorming session for around half an hour before Chrom finally shook his head and threw their hands up in defeat, a gesture Atris couldn't help but join them in. The fact was they had little in the way of anything to go on. Marth, and his dreams correlated with the Risen as did Lon'qu apparently. Still, it seemed almost less than nothing, honestly nothing might've been preferred. It certainly would be less frustrating than the worthless nuggets of knowledge they had now.

"Well, we're at the very least trying, hopefully time will make things clearer. "Chrom paused for a moment and cupped his chin, with Atris perking up in response. "Thinking on it more... there was a bit of weirdness during the fight with Marth. There was... an odd sense of familiarity, not simply with him knowing my style of swordplay. No, it was... it was almost like what I imagined sparring with my own father would be." The prince paused before kicking the floor in frustration. "Damn, I'm sorry that's the best way I can explain it."

"Hm, it's interesting an observation to ponder on at the very least, and to think Lissa calls you dense." The tactician joked noticing his friend growing more dispirited. Chrom simply rolled his eyes and gave a smack to the man's arm. "Hey! No smacking the wounded tactician, how will my arm ever heal at this rate!? This is my planning arm too..." He feigned a groan of pain as Chrom let out one of his own and looked at Atris clearly trying not to smirk.

"That's not even the right arm. Goodnight, Atris." He called out before he left the room, hints of a contained laughter sneaking through. Atris chuckled to himself and threw the blankets over him. Best to enjoy the last few nights of these small comforts, sooner or later it was back to bedrolls. The tactician grimaced slightly, there'd also be a lot fewer hot baths too.

The day of departure had finally arrived, with almost all the Shepherds gathered and ready to march, almost all of them. Sumia had been notably absent and while Chrom and he were willing to give her a bit of leniency, that charitability quickly dried up after around twenty or so minutes. So, it was after a quick game of Swords, Axes and Lances, Atris was sent off to fetch the wayward pegasus rider.

Atris would be lying if he said that there wasn't a little bit of annoyance at this latest fetch quest, he'd also be lying if he said most of that annoyance wasn't him simply being a sore loser. Coming to the door of their lost Shepherd, he gave it a quick knock and was met with no answer. They really didn't have time for this, frowning he opened the door and stepped into the room.

"Hey, Sumia we're ready-" He started when a mixture of a squeak and a scream came from the woman. Her hands fumbled with the book as she tried her best to hide it from sight. Confused at the situation Atris just stared at the brunette, her face taking on a more colorful pink tinge as the moments went by. "Um... Sumia?"

"Y-yes?"

"What... exactly were you reading just now?" he asked as she simply shook her head in childish defiance. He eyed her and stepped closer before she flailed and fell over the book.

"F-fine! I-I was reading 'Ribald Tales of the Faith War." The tactician stared at her blankly as he tried to recall what the word "ribald" even meant. "B-but it's based on real events that happened in the lost land of Jugdral!" She cried out when suddenly the meaning of the word came to him.

"With plenty of ribald parts in it, eh?" Atris asked and smiled sweetly, the tactician in him begging to let loose the cavalry and charge. Sumia simply nodded her head slowly as she looked at him. It was clear she was hoping that he'd simply leave the matter be, but this was just too good not to. "We, uh... wouldn't be trying to live a vicarious fantasy, would we?"

Sumia simply stared at him; her expression puzzled at his words. The moment she realized his meaning it was absolutely priceless. The woman's eyes widened, and her cheeks somehow paled and flushed at the same time, her mouth hung open in shock. With reflexes he hadn't come to expect from her, Sumia lunged for the book as Atris jumped back and slammed the door behind him. Not even a second later the sound of a heavy and dull thud struck the door shaking it.

"My book!" A muffled cry came from the room a moment later. It was at that point Atris simply lost in and laughed himself into tears. Despite what his fellow Shepherd might've thought the muffed huffs from behind the door did little to persuade him to stop.

Once he calmed down, Atris explained the situation to the wayward Shepherd. Sumia cracked the door to peak at him with a glare. Had he pushed the joke too far? There was a part of him that truly was worried he had genuinely upset the woman. In an attempt to make it up to her, he promised to carry her things for two days once they left the Deepfort. With that the woman suddenly perked up and gathered her things with an energy she lacked before. It suddenly came to Atris, he might've won their little battle, but Sumia had won the war.

With Sumia now in tow, the two had regrouped with the rest of the Shepherds, Khan Flavia there at the head of the group discussing something with Chrom. The rest of the group seemed a bit restless to depart, truth was he didn't blame them. It would be almost another two weeks before they returned to Ylisstol. Suddenly a baritone voice called out to them, Khan Basilio was approaching them, and he seemed to be more or less dragging Lon'qu with him.

"Just what do you think you're doing here, Oaf; I thought I assigned you to foot stool duty?" The East-Khan smirked at her counterpart who gave her a shameless smile in response.

"I figured this was more important, besides I'll be more than eager to defend the chosen soles once they're propped up." Khan Flavia groaned and shook her head, as the man gave out a boisterous laugh. "With that said..."

The hulking man shoved the smaller one forward as if prodding him to say something. Whatever Lon'qu had wished to say he refused, only greeting the Shepherds with a stoic look of utter indifference, except when he saw Atris, his face contorting into a light scowl upon seeing the tactician. Once more the khan shoved his champion who simply said nothing, Khan Basilio eventually arched his brow and let out a rather loud growl and folded his arms against his chest.

"Fine, since someone is being so damn delicate. You might've sided with East Ferox, but the West wants to do their part too. Hence why I'm giving command of my most valuable warrior over to you." Khan Basilio said and once again shoved Lon'qu who simply sighed and nodded at them.

"We really appreciate the offer, Khan Basilio. Lon'qu's skills are evident, his fight with Atris is proof of that, but do you really wish to join us?" Chrom asked, turning his attention to the Feroxi swordsman, but soon the khan's boisterous voice snapped their focus back to him.

"Of course, he wants this! This knucklehead should be thankful for the opportunity." The hulking man palmed the smaller swordsman's head and ruffled their hair. "Despite what he's come to think you don't learn anything from winning, it only reinforces what you believe works. Now a loss is something you can really learn from; the problem is you tend to die from that stuff!" The khan let out a bellowing laughter that came from his gut as Lon'qu looked on in agitation masked as indifference.

"Yep... I'm here to learn. So, just point out who to stab and I'll get to it." Lon'qu spoke with disinterest if a little snark. The swordsman's eye snapped to his left where Lissa was as she seemed completely drawn to him. The Feroxi grimaced as she stepped closer. "Away, woman!" he shouted and leapt backward. Baffled, Lissa turned to Chrom and threw her arms up.

"I-I didn't even do anything this time, I swear!"

"Oh yea, I almost forgot. Lon's got this weird thing involving woman. He starts acting... well like this. I'm kinda hoping you somehow knock this out of him, but hey I hardly expect mortals to work miracles!"

"So, are you coming along then Basilio?" Khan Flavia shot a strange look at the opposing khan, Atris and Chrom looking at each other puzzled by the statement.

"You think I'd miss a chance to watch you walk, woman? Never." A broad grin spread on the West-Khan's face as Khan Flavia simply shook her head smiling and gave the man a quick if playful slap across the face.

"Damn smooth talker. Just remember less lip action and more leg action or I'll leave you behind." Turning to face Chrom and Atris whose bafflement had only increased, the Great-Khan's smile became far slyer. "I couldn't throw you a feast, but the least I can do is escort you out of the city." Chrom turned to the tactician and simply shrugged and with that the order to march had been given. While things started out rather ordinary, they would soon spiral out of control.

It all started when they reached the Edda's house. A small crowd gathered there and upon seeing them several of them sprinted off shouting out words they couldn't quite make out. Seemingly out of nowhere the crowd swelled and musicians surged out from within the city. The clans that remained within the city sent forth their banner wavers as they whipped their precious sigils back and forth to the music's energetic pace.

Ahead of them a warm and comforting heat drifted down the street. The sudden igniting of a great many communal ovens and fires had been their cause. The intoxicating smell of many meats and dishes wafted down the street in a display of culinary glory. Atris could already feel his mouth watering and his hopes rising that he'd get a bite of whatever was cooking before they left.

Upbeat and rowdy singing, melodies and dancing soon filled the street as they made their slow march out of the city. The crowd continued to swell as more people poured out from the depths of the city ready, a great wave of Feroxi eager to party. Great and colorful banners sporting the symbols of Ylisse and East Ferox were thrown across the roof tops canvassing their march. The roof top goers then took up large baskets and chuckled the contents high into the air.

As the contents fluttered from the sky to the ground, Atris saw they were flower petals in a variety of colors. Catching one he saw it was a most magnificent shade of purple, the tactician grinned as the music grew rowdier and nosier. He noticed with their job done, the roof top goers started drinking, dancing and waving energetically as they got further down the street a few tried to drunkenly shimmy their way across the rooftops by the very banners they hung.

As they continued their glorious departure of the city, the Feroxi would rush up to the Shepherds offering them food, drink and in Chrom's case a fine axe that left Vaike drooling in want. Several men dragged along a large pot near the size of a man on the ground, no doubt filled with alcohol. With a gluttonous grin, Khan Basilio grabbed the pot by the handles on its neck and heaved it up drinking it as they marched. The tactician could spot the mischievous energy of the West-Khan's rival, as the woman slowly began pushing up the pot until it spilled over the hulking man.

The Shepherds laughed in unison at the antics of both the khans as the two exchanged argument and witty banter. Atris wished he had seen more of this side to both the khans during their brief stay, perhaps with luck he would see more of it in the future. He looked around at the single squad parade they had become, the energy in the air was so... he simply had no words for it other than it was simply amazing.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught an incredibly beautiful woman with what appeared to be pinkish hair, a pear in her hand as she seemed to fumble around with it. Suddenly she tossed the peach at him, or perhaps pitched it at him would be the better word. However, the tactician caught it all the same and took a large bite out of it. He shot the woman a triumphant smile and a thumbs up, her gaze falling to ground bashfully and seemingly blushed. It took all of Atris' willpower to reign in his ego after that little display, still he couldn't deny the absolute rush he felt.

Unfortunately, as the Shepherds neared closer to the southern exit of the Banners, the energy and the festivities had died down. Chrom thanked Khan Flavia for throwing them such a spectacular farewell as the Shepherds saluted her. The khan simply looked to the side and smirked denying any involvement and said that word simply got out.

Meanwhile Khan Basilio had taken Lon'qu to side, the two exchanging what Atris thought must've been a solemn goodbye given the lack of hulking man's iconic laughter. As the group formed up finally ready to leave the West-Khan approached Chrom smiling.

"Oh, before I forget if you stop by Bastion tell that bullhead Sullivan to visit the Arena. I'm itching to see him fight for me, particularly before he sprouts grey hairs!" A boisterous laugh came from the man that felt contagious, with a smile Chrom promised to deliver the message and so it was the group set off the khans waving

Leaving the city proper they were once again greeted with the drab and slowly melting lands of the Feroxi. It had been decided beforehand that the Shepherds would return through the Deepfort which lay near the Sea of Galda in northwest Ylisse. A wise decision too as while central and western Regna Ferox's thaw seasons weren't as bad, the melting snows and slowly encompassing mud still proved frustrating losing them time.

Their newest companion had been rather silent all things considered, the only words aside from the occasional grunts was his assurance that his "affliction" when it came to woman didn't hinder his prowess on the battlefield. Despite the Feroxi's attempts to distance himself from the group, Vaike and Lissa had taken a shine to the man.

Vaike had been trying to recruit the swordsman as some kind of apprentice much to the Feroxi's derision. Even the muscular axman's attempts to persuade him by using the tactician's future defeat as some kind of carrot failed. Then again it could've been Atris' snickering at the idea that foiled Vaike's attempts and earned him yet another scowl from Lon'qu.

Lissa meanwhile had attempted to make a game of trying to sneak on the Feroxi and touch him. Needless to say, he didn't appreciate nor understand the point of the princess' latest game. Eventually though in this case, Atris did intervene and wrested the princess away. It might've been a trick of the light, but he swore that Lon'qu actually showed him a bit of appreciation at the gesture. At least he better have, all intervening got the tactician was being the latest target for the princess' shenanigans.

Their time at the Deepfort had been a time of cool courtesy, initially it had been warmer until Commander Ramos recognized Atris. Apparently, a sizable portion of Raimi's earnings had come from her cousin and fellow commander, while he wouldn't call the man a sore loser, they certainly displayed irritation at the loss of so much money. Thankfully though their stay would not be long.

As the Shepherds prepared their march once more, Atris knew it was only a matter of time until a rather lively looking Sumia would come into view. So it was with a defeated nod that he opted to take on her burdens and earned much to his surprise a tight hug from the woman. Even if Sumia had tricked him, at least she was a good sport about her sneaky victory. A hand gripped his shoulder and shook him roughly, an amused if somewhat confused Chrom looking at him.

"So, I hope you know I'm not paying you extra for being a pack mule."

"Pfft, you don't pay me anything remember? Something about this being community work or something?"

"Not my fault sleeping in meadows is such a heinous crime, it's only fitting you give back to the community." The two men grinned at one another as the prince shook their head. "Seriously though, why are you taking on Sumia's things?"

"Eh, I played a joke on her and she tricked me into this. Honestly, I shouldn't have fallen for it, but she's tricker than she looks."

"Heh, I'll be sure to remember that advice for later."

"Oh? You plan on getting far more acquainted with her or something?" Chrom simply narrowed his eyes and finally sighed.

"If you must know- Atris, behind you!" He shouldn't have fallen for it; those were his thoughts the moment he even began to tilt his head. Yet, his trust in Chrom was too great and he was rewarded for it with a swift smack upside the head. "Phew, you had one of those notoriously dangerous Feroxi bugs on you. I managed to swat it away, you're good now."

Grumbling out a sarcastic thanks, he heard Chrom order their march. Adjusting himself so as to better support the additional weight, he started thinking of their next destination to distract himself. The City of Unyielding, Bastion the seat of power within the County of Gran. It was here the Feroxi messengers would be supplied and reinforced by the ruling lord, Count Sullivan.

The city of Bastion and Gran itself had been extensively mentioned in the book he had read about Ylissian cavalry as well as numerous warfare treatises. The city's and even the county's roots started some three hundred years ago during the Triadic Wars, a time when the three great nations of the continent engaged in open war with one another for over thirty years. It was also during this time that a schism within the Order of the Great Knights occurred.

This new movement accused their fellow Ylissians of "growing fat under the greens" while north and west Ylisse were constantly besieged by both Regna Ferox and Plegia alike. Calling themselves the Order of the Stampede or more informally the bull Knights, this new order broke conventions by enlisting commoners both men and women alike within its ranks. With an army swelling with new recruits the Order of the Stampede commenced its march to the northwest.

Northwest Ylisse saw intense fighting and bloodshed for decades, so much so it earned the moniker "The Last March" during the war. After the order's first victory in the region, Bastion was established and founded within ancient ruins from the days of Archanea. Bastion would serve as both the headquarters of the order and its frontline; the city having been sieged thirteen times in the remaining twenty-four years of the war. However, the besiegers would find themselves mercilessly broken by the bull knights time after time.

As the Triadic wars came to an end, the cost of these vast and bloody campaigns was made evident. Plegia's founding royal line was extinguished at the end of the war. A sweeping illness having claimed most of the royal line except for one, Prince Rodrigo, "The Wyvern Prince". Prince Rodrigo would die during the final siege of Bastion, his wyvern shot down by a ballistae bolt and crashing into the city.

Despite his wounds though, the prince emerged from his dead mount and rampaged throughout Bastion, killing at least twenty knights and dozens of regular soldiers. It was only until the Wyvern Prince clashed with the future grandmaster of the order Sir Rory, "The Red Bull", that the prince would finally be slain. Under the knight's future leadership, the colors of the order were changed to reflect the fallen prince. Some say this memorialization was due to shared words the two had before the prince's death. With the last in the royal line dead, Plegia would ultimately remain leadership and divided amongst quarreling factions for the next sixty-seven years.

Regna Ferox would lose two Great-Khans during these wars with the final one maimed and crippled. For years after the wars increasingly brutal winters struck Regna Ferox, combined with the innumerable dead it should've driven the Feroxi people into near extinction. Yet, while the reigning Great-Khan Alessia was broken in body, they remained ever-strong in mind and refused to allow her people to succumb to their fate of ice and snow. While the khan would guide her people through these great trials, she unwittingly put the Feroxi on a path of isolationism from the rest of the continent. Something that would only cause greater troubles in the future.

The halidom would soon find itself a unique scenario. While the Order of the Stampede had come to achieve victory in the northwest and even managed to stabilize the long war-torn region, who did their loyalties belong to? As far as most of the halidom was concerned the bull knights were a rouge militant organization that had split from the country. It was not long before the brewing of a future civil war loomed over the horizon. However, one individual would step forth to finally end the long cycle of bloodshed.

With the untimely death of the previous grandmaster of the bull knights, Sir Rory was elected in his place to lead the order. After a series of talks the Order of the Stampede was recognized as an official knightly order and would be allowed greater autonomy in their rule over the lands so long as they swore allegiance to the exalt. With a greater majority in agreement amongst the order, Sir Rory was given the title of count and swore fealty to the throne. After decades of war and even the threat of civil war, the County of Gran was finally born. The descendants of Sir Rory still serving as both rulers of the county and leaders of the order.

Thankfully, thinking of Bastion's origins as well as the tactics and events of the Triadic Wars had successfully driven his thoughts elsewhere. It was only when he heard Chrom's order to halt the march and set up camp that he could finally relieve himself of Sumia's burdens. Giving his shoulders a stretch, Atris set about to the menial tasks ahead.

Despite his best efforts he couldn't quite ignore the pain in his shoulder from the march, Sumia even offering to take her belongings back. However, a deal was a deal and he rather enjoyed how energetic she was with less weighing her down during their march. Sometimes it was hard to believe that the shy and timid woman he had met so long ago seemed so different, her new temperament had even improved their art sessions of late.

Absentmindedly posting up the camp chore list for the day, Atris saw he had assigned Vaike and Miriel to kitchen duty today. That was a... interesting choice, had that peach been laced with something? Shaking his head with a small smile he opted to take a small walk and enjoy the open scenery; it wouldn't be long before they hit the mountains of northwest Ylisse where Bastion lay.

There had also been another reason Atris had wanted to take his small walk. The tactician didn't want to disturb the other Shepherds while he tested out his latest tome, while not a true lightning bolt, elthunder still generated an extreme amount of light and noise. Stopping in his tracks the tactician surveyed his surroundings and nodded to himself, this would be a perfect practice area.

Setting up a makeshift targeting range, Atris let off several wind spells directly into the sky. Feeling the magic flowing through his body he found himself almost giddy with excitement to finally try out this newest spell. Withdrawing the tome, he raised his hand and felt the power gather to him as the spell became fully charged.

Atris would've blinked if he had the ability to, he would've moved or done anything if his body had allowed such a thing. The tactician found himself suddenly standing not within the open plains of Ylisse just outside Regna Ferox, but within some kind of courtyard. His arm was raised as before, but no spell was readied. Yet, there was an intense feeling of strange smugness and satisfaction that ran through his mind. It was then a flood of alien feelings and thoughts flooded his being, threatening to wash him away entirely.

It took all of his will to simply remain amongst this sudden and overwhelming surge of information. A seemingly infinite number of what was like mirrors blitzed past him like, their contents being reflections of smeared and unfocused knowledge. Yet, what his eyes couldn't make out his ears could hear, an ensemble of unending and senseless pandemonium that rung ceaseless within his immaterial skull. Despite his best efforts nothing made sense to him, and more and more he was on the edge of losing himself.

Suddenly it appeared, a giant or perhaps a beacon amongst the sea of knowledge. His attention focused on the massive mirror-like object almost against his own will. Still though he could not understand what was before him. Willing himself further into the object and looking upon what was stored inside and with clarity saw what lay within. However, as he stared within the object his essence was ripped away and thrust into it. Panicking and looking for escape only to find none, these thoughts would soon cease much like he would. As the last of his thoughts dissipated, Atris had lost himself entirely.

He was waiting for her by the lake, it had been their meeting spot for some time before the war took such simple pleasures from them. Their late-night walks had been something he had always looked forward to, truth be told it was being around her at all that brought him so much peace. As time quickly marched on, he feared she wouldn't show, at least until he felt two soft hands grip his own, giving him such a freight that he nearly leapt into the lake.

Perhaps he should've been annoyed, but her mirthful and elegant laughter had smothered those feelings. The two soon began their walk, conversing about many different things. Eventually, talk turned to the war that had kept them apart and soon to the burdens and fears that it had brought to them. Gripping the woman's hand tightly as she tried to soothe those feelings within him, yet it wasn't the war that had turned him so craven. No, there was another fear, one he would never tell.

Guilt brewed within his heart, and it threatened to match the fear that had spawned it. How could he continue to lie to this woman he so adored? Someone that had stirred such feelings of infatuation in him from the moment their eyes had met. The man did all he could to not bite his lip and let slip his feelings, how long had it ceased to be just that? How long had it been since he... since he began to feel more. Perhaps it was the day he fell... yes, that was the day he realized he loved her.

Love, there was another one he loved. It was also another person he lied to, and so it was that the guilt dug in deeper and rooted itself within his heart. He deserved neither the woman nor the man who had given him so much. Especially when he returned their gifts of love and loyalty with lies and treachery. The woman asked if he was okay, and it jarred him from his thoughts as he simply stared at her and nodded awkwardly unable to look into her eyes. Smiling and looking up to him she confronted him about his deception so casually.

His eyes widened and the guilt had been uprooted stem and whole as desperation and panic replaced it. Looking for an escape he almost ran when he felt palms on his face, the woman forced their gazes to meet as they stared into each other' eyes. It was then she closed the distance and their lips met, he embraced her as the two for the first time reciprocated their love for one another. They were creatures of opposing natures, yet she loved him all the same. He held her tighter, afraid for the spell to end and finding this all a dream.

Eventually the two broke the kiss and looked deep within each other. He asked how she could ever love him given what he was, given his deception. Her hand stroked his face despite the roughness of his stubble, his body shivering from her enchanting touch. The response was simple, "Because the man I fell in love with wasn't a deception. I know your heart, even as turbulent as it is now,". Biting his lip, he revealed the truth of his nature, yet she simply smiled and nodded in response. It would not be long before the two once more shared that warm and passion-filled kiss, his heart partially unshackled from the lie.

"Oh, you're here. I was hoping to run into you." Atris was flung from the memory at the sound of these words. The stream of thoughts and memories had ceased, thankfully his thoughts and feelings were now mostly his own. The body had since turned as he saw what appeared to be a human-shaped blur.

"..."

"You're hardly as sneaky as you think you are, maybe in other ways you are. I still think that was all one big practical joke though by the way." The tactician internally cringed at the sound he heard. It was as if someone had stuffed cotton in his ears and was constantly adjusting it inside. Still, he tried to focus more on the blur to define any sort of speech.

"..."

"Fine, fine I'll let you have your 'glorious' triumph at making me look like an ass." Atris noted the warmth in the words that were being spoken against his will. Who was he talking to? "Anyway, I've something I want to show you."

The body raised its hand and assumed a limber position allowing a loose and flowing form. Suddenly a spell began to form in his hand, he could tell from the energies that gathered it was an elthunder spell. As the spell reached its charged state, the body did something he couldn't quite understand. Atris felt the streaming points of power that were to be the bolts of the spell converge into a single point. It was then the body unleashed the spell.

The light was almost blinding in the dark as the power ripped forth in the form of a massive bolt that tore the earth apart. The bolt had left a deep gouge within the ground that trailed on some fifteen to twenty feet away from the casting. The body winced at the destruction left behind in the wake up the spell. Atris would've winced along with it, yet something told him there was largely nothing in that direction.

"I, uh... appear to have overdone it a bit. That poor gardener..."

"..."

"I am not a showoff! Especially coming from you with that... that little sky twirl you do!" The body couldn't help but laugh and what Atris thought was distorted laughter that came from the blur. Eventually though the humor ceased as the body folded its arms contently.

"..."

"W-what? W-why are you asking me about that!? I don't go on asking you about-!" The body's arms dropped to the side as he felt something, he felt fear beginning to bubble forth. It wasn't the same fear as before, something was different about this.

"..."

"I didn't even say her name, and yet here you are stumbling over your words." The body's eye cast a quick glance to the ground before refocusing on the blur. "If you must know though... she asked me to call her that. I-if it makes you uncomfortable I can-."

"..."

"You... you're okay with it?" The body paused as fear began to give way to a guilt similar to the memory. "I can tell from your eyes you truly mean it. I... I don't know what to say." The blur approached him, it felt like the blur was hugging him. Tears were forming within the eyes of the body as it chewed on its lip.

"..."

"I... I never thought I'd hear you say that. You both mean everything to me, to know you not only approve, but you... I'm sorry it's just a lot to take in." There was an awkward bit of laughter from the body, but the guilt did not go away, it only grew. "With all this said, I... must confess something to you, something I'm afraid will change everything about us. I'm scared, I've kept it hidden so long..."

"..."

The body nodded, a small font of bravery welling up within at the blurred figure's unknown words. As the body went to speak once more an explosion sounded off in the background. The sound of weapons being drawn and soon spells being unleashed. Everything was dissolving into a whirlpool of incomprehensible chaos as Atris let out a silent scream and was cast from whatever temporal hell he had found himself within.

Falling to his knees, Atris wheezed dryly, his body sickened from the sudden expulsion. Pain suddenly exploded forth from his arm and then his chest, a stray arc of energy striking him. Looking at his hand he could see the rebelling energies surging forth, if he didn't release the spell the backlash was likely to take his arm! Standing up, Atris cast the spell as a familiar blinding light accompanied it. Panting, the tactician stared at an equally familiar maiming of the earth, his breathing growing more and more shallow and his body growing increasingly weaker.

The amnesiac fell back to his knees and retched the memory of whatever he experienced surging back into his mind. A cold sweat had overcome him as again he retched violently, and it became harder to breathe from how ill he was. What was going on with him, what had just happened to him!? Striving to get back to his feet, he struggled to swallow back the excess spit. It was like his body was trying to rid itself of whatever memory or vision he had experienced.

It had taken him some time to struggle back to camp, no matter how long ago it seemed his body seemed determined to slow him down. Several times he stumbled, falling to the ground, how he managed to get up he still wasn't sure. Making his way into camp and sneaking into his tent, he collapsed onto his bedroll and found himself incapable of getting up as once more the dry heaving was back. The only thing to snap him from the sickening that had overcome him was the sudden and forceful sound of his tent flap being flung to the side.

"Supper's ready." Atris forced his gaze to see the gruff response had come from Lon'qu. The Feroxi was studying him like some hawk spotting wounded prey. To his surprise the man's face softened slightly. "I'll tell them you're busy, see about bringing you your portion so they don't worry."

"Thank... you..."

"Don't expect me to do this again." With that the swordsman left as Atris was left on the ground writhing wishing this would just end already.

Hours had passed since the incident; the tactician wagered it was nearing midnight. The sickening had mostly left him by this point, but in its wake there was this ill energy and even iller thoughts coursing through him. Raising from his bedroll he took up the uneaten portion Lon'qu had brought him and disposed of it in secret. Despite his best-efforts sleep refused to come to him as this restless coursed through him. Looking into the distance he simply nodded to himself and left the camp hoping to find what he doubted would be there.

Backtracking his way to the ruined and annihilated training site from before. Seeing the tear in the earth confirmed the reality that unnerved him. What was that spell he had cast? What had happened earlier? The tactician's thoughts went back to the spell that had ripped apart his training area. It was like he had altered an elthunder and from that created something new, how could he even do such a thing?

Withdrawing his tome he channeled the power to cast an elthunder spell and fired it off as normal. Five bolts of light shot forth from his hand and into the darkness leaving an echo of illumination in their path. Drawing his hand back slightly, he let out a deep breath and jutted it forward. Once he charged the spell until it was ready to fire, but simply held the readied spell within his hand.

Atris focused on the five separate points of power within his hand. Gritting his teeth, he felt the flow of energy start to rebel against him. Squeezing his hand tighter as if to reign in the energy that resided within it. Slowly through the force of his own will the points converged into the familiar singularity of destruction from the memory. As the spell threatened to backlash, he fired it off into the darkness.

It was far more deafening than he remembered, a bolt truly worthy of being called lightning had been unleashed from his palm. Looking upon the spell's wake there was a twin ravaging of the earth before him. His breathing grew faster as he doubled over and grabbed his knees to steady himself. Casting that... whatever it was had taken a toll on him.

As the amnesiac recovered so many questions with no answers sprinted through his mind. Taking off his left glove he looked upon the black tattoo that marked the back of his hand. Shaking his head, he couldn't help wondering who he was, had that been some form of memory or perhaps even a premonition of the future? If it was latter, was that him in the courtyard, who was that blur, or the woman? What... what lie was he telling his friends? None of it made sense to him.

Slipping back on the glove he looked out into the darkness, the light of his castings had long since been consumed by it. Something else was stirring in him, another familiar feeling that filled him with an unknown and quiet dread. There was that ill charge in the air once more, and it almost seemed to saturate it this time. His breathing no longer came in those rapid and labored exhilarations but had since shallowed and now quivered at the feelings flowing through him.

Staring out into the distance, Atris tried to uncover what lay hidden in the darkness that surrounded him. Yet whatever ominous presence laid out there made no such attempt to reveal itself to him. His eyes glanced down once more to his left hand and then to the ruin of the earth he had wrought with it. With no other recourse, the tactician would return to camp his thoughts clouded and the unknown dread trailing close behind.

Author's Note

Meant to upload this Thursday, but my nitpicking got in the way. I like the chapter, but damn could I not stop tweaking certain aspects of it and I just need to upload it and focus on other things.

So, for this chapter I really want to thank Temporal King for inspiring a chunk of this chapter. When I originally wrote the rough draft for this chapter back in August, I didn't want to do a feast. I felt it would bog down the story and perhaps such a thing was a bit overplayed, but I didn't know what to do and long story short the draft was just bad. But when you left that small note about Chrom being a bit more shaken about the Risen, it got me thinking about how the world at large would react to such a thing. Would Flavia really hold an extravagant feast while the dead walk and possibly turn her kin? No, I don't think she would, but it did give me an idea for the improvised parade march which was far better than the initial thing I wrote and showed off a bit of the Feroxi's character.

All this said the point is, and I'm sorry if this sounds tacky. But, I really do welcome any feedback. It can help me think of things I didn't really consider before, or perhaps expand on things in a certain way for a fuller story. That said you don't need to leave a review, even a pm detailing things you liked, didn't like, etc, it's all useful in some way or another.

Anyway, sorry if I babbled on there. With all that said I'll see you all in the next chapter!