Chapter VI: Ylisstol

Dawn breaks earlier than I'd like. A soft morning sun turns the hills to mounds of emerald, the dew sparkling as if every blade of grass is a precious gemstone. If it weren't for the fact I'm cold, hungry, tired, and sore beyond description, I might even pause to admire the scenery. Of course, the blackened and ash covered forest puts a bit of a damper on the sight. Looks like the fire ran its course, laying waste to the entire swathe of woods. At least it's not a large portion of forest. I remember seeing about the wildfires in Montana on the news, how they blazed for weeks. Thankfully, the Ylissean countryside seems to be more hill than tree. Still, it's sad to see a once proud piece of nature reduced to something so barren.

"Wakey, wakey, Mikey, Mikey!" a godawful high voice bleats in my ear. Liston shakes my shoulders as I lie on the ground trying to avoid moving yet.

"Jesus, I'm up!" I snap, turning my neck and feeling it crack from the stiffness. "Let me wake up in peace, you demon."

He sits back, looking unapologetic. "What's Jesus?" he asks.

I sigh. "Something you say when annoying people won't let you sleep in," I respond blandly.

Liston feigns hurt. "Me? Annoying? How could you?"

"Liston."

"What?"

"Shut up."

"Why?"

"Your voice is cancer."

"What's cancer?"

"You."

I roll over and push myself off the ground while Liston laughs, apparently enjoying my suffering. Sitting up, I see the others are already mobile and preparing to move out. Freya especially. Despite yesterday's events, her appearance is immaculate and looks as if she'd spent the night in a five-star resort and not the hard, shitty ground. Even Agatha, who I assume isn't as rough and tumble as the rest of them, seems alert and ready for the day. Guess I'm just destined to be less suited for extreme camping than my medieval peers.

"You ready to move out, Michael?" Chrom asks, extending a generous hand to help me up. I gratefully accept.

I yawn. "I suppose so. Please tell me someone has some food. I'm starving."

Chrom shakes her head. "Sorry. When patrolling we usually hunt for food," she explains as her stomach growls. "Aha… I could go for something to eat myself."

"Do we have time for that? Hunting, I mean." I will gladly eat bear if it means food.

"I'm afraid not," she says, frowning. "We need to get to the capital as soon as we can to bring word of Southtown's destruction and these monsters roaming about. But don't worry; Ylisstol will be within sight by noon. We can eat when we arrive."

"Fine," I grumble. "But we better have a damn feast."

Chrom laughs. "There'll be plenty of food, I assure you." She leans in conspiratorially. "One of the Shepherds is an excellent cook."

Stahl, perhaps? Does having an enormous appetite make one a better cook? "Brilliant," I say, smiling as I imagine a full meal.

She returns the smile and pats me on the shoulder. "Now, come on. We've got ground to cover."

The journey to Ylisstol is thankfully uneventful. No Risen. No fires. No bandits or bloodthirsty highwaymen. After the shit we've been through, we've earned a respite from tragic misfortune. I'm thankful for the road as well, appreciating the ease of travel over the difficult slog the forest offered. The only downsides are the copious walking and Virginie's insufferable play by play. With her around, you'd think every pebble and stone is worthy of an epic poem, not to forget the fact she constantly harasses Sullivan with proposals and odes to his ruggedness. Does the woman have no shame? Honestly. To Sullivan's credit, he only threatens her a couple times. Though probably because she seems to kind of like it. I attempt to distract myself by thinking about why exactly things have gone so haywire. Not the most pleasant series of thoughts, but it beats listening to Virginie.

Why is nothing playing out the way it should? Things are happening that never occurred in the games, or at least happening in ways they shouldn't. Lucina's actions trouble me the most. He seemed unsurprised by the changes, only commenting that he didn't expect to have to rescue us. That tells me most of this is how he thinks it should be, minus me. Clearly, I'm having some effect, but the big changes… That's something else. And why is everyone gender swapped? It's like I fell into the wrong version of Awakening. There must be an explanation. I haven't the faintest idea what, but something caused this.

Thinking about how everyone is the opposite gender makes me look at Chrom. They all have different names too. Except Chrom—and Robin of course. I have a hunch, so I bring myself up alongside her. "So, Chrom," I begin. "Chrom. That's an interesting name."

She gives me a quizzical look. "Um… sure."

I press on. "No offense, but it doesn't really feel like a woman's name… Is it short for something?"

Chrom stumbles and looks away. "Er, no. It's my name. Yeah. The whole thing."

Liston chuckles, nudging his sister. "Come on. Tell him, Chrom. He's not gonna laugh."

"Liston!" she protests, clearly miffed. "Ugh. Fine." She fixes me with a glare. "Do not laugh."

"I promise not to," I swear, hoping that it's not anything too embarrassingly bad.

"Chromaralina." She refuses to make eye contact.

I remain stone-faced. "Yeah, Chrom is way better."

She whips around, indignant. "Hey! You promised!"

"I'm not laughing," I point out. "Besides, it's not that bad."

"But it's still bad."

I shake my head. "It's not. It's unique. Does it really bother you that much?"

She sighs. "It just doesn't sound like me. That's a name for a girl who wanders around in silly dresses with ridiculous hair."

"You have a point," I agree. Chromaralina is a mouthful anyways. "Chrom it is."

"Thanks," she says. "Can we maybe not bring this up again?" She fidgets.

"You got it." I give her an overly serious salute, to which she rolls her eyes.

We relax into comfortable silence, and I catch myself smiling. This is the only time I've felt something akin to contentment since arriving. To be fair, ninety percent of my time has been spent running for my life, but still. It's encouraging to think these people, even obnoxious ones like Virginie, could give me a sense of belonging. Maybe not yet, but looking at Chrom and Liston and Robin, I feel the sensation growing. It's an infectious warmth, an ember in my core telling me not to give up hope, not to give up on happiness. I suppose the only good part about losing everything is that I now have everything to gain.

Almost enjoying the walking now, I hold a steady pace, Chrom and the others at my side. Hours pass, and finally it comes into view: Ylisstol. The games give you glimpses, snippets of what the capital looks like, but really seeing it is another experience entirely. I know everyone says that. Everyone describes seeing something you've only read about or seen pictures of like that. But it's true. Ylisstol is, to put it simply, beautiful. It's a dream from a childhood fantasy, the city we've all imagined living in—one way or another. Tan walls climb a sloping hillside, as if the Ylisstol is resting on its quest to the summit. Little buildings and houses clutter the interior, their roofs a myriad of colors, a painter's palette of a city. But the jewel of Ylisstol is the palace sitting in refined stillness at the top of the hill. To say it is the most wonderous thing I've ever seen is too base a description. Turrets and towers decorate its bulk, white stone capped with royal blue. Arches gracefully curve across its walls, massive banners with the Exalted Brand flapping in the wind. Even at this distance, I can tell designs are carved into the stone. I don't have to be near them to know they are glorious. The palace speaks through the stone, a whisper of ages past, all of which were watched over by this castle of supreme dignity.

"Wow," Robin says. Yeah, that about sums it up.

"Believe me," Chrom says, her voice affectionate. "Having seen it thousands of times, it still never fails to take my breath away or make my heart beat a little faster."

"There's a reason why this continent is called Ylisse. And you are looking at it." Freya's expression is one of admiration and pride.

Agatha sways a little beside me. "I've lived my whole life only a little over a day south of here, and I never knew it was so incredible." She looks at me. "Have you ever been to the capital before, Mike?"

"No," I say, rubbing my thumb along my index finger. "I don't feel like I've ever been anywhere right now."

Agatha looks at me a little curiously. "Where are you from, Mike? You never mentioned it. Not Southtown, obviously."

Oh, the dreaded question. Honestly, I'm not sure how Freya hasn't asked it already. I'm just glad none of them, save Agatha, saw me in my original clothes. The more questions I can avoid, the better. However, this question seems hard to dodge. I'll need to concoct a believable lie. Well, relatively believable. Except Freya, these people all believe Robin has amnesia, which—while true—is totally crazy.

"Yes, Michael. Where are you from?" Freya asks, latching onto the opportunity.

"Ylisse," I say, not missing a beat. "A small village to the west."

"Where you were a woodworker?" Freya asks dubiously.

"Yes," I reply. "My uncle taught me." Only half a lie. I worked in sales on Earth, but my uncle really did teach me everything I know about woodworking.

"And what was this village called?" Freya, folds her arms across her chest.

I hesitate. "Too small to have a name. We just called it 'the village.'"

"Hmmm."

Chrom waves a hand between us. "Freya, enough with the interrogation. You know just as well as I do most small villages don't have names."

Freya gives me one last look of skepticism. "As you wish, milady."

We may be on better terms than we originally began, but I know Freya isn't letting her guard down. Even if she thinks I'm no longer a danger to Chrom or Liston, it's in her nature to be untrusting. You don't earn a moniker like "The Wary" by being, well, Chrom.

"Don't worry," Agatha says soothingly. "I believe you."

I nod my thanks. Great, now I feel bad about lying. There's no way around it, though. The truth is not an option. When does telling everyone you got sucked into this world through a computer ever go well? Talk about making people wary of you. Crazy is hard to trust. Though maybe Chrom might still manage. He does recruit Tharja and Henry after all.

Our group continues up the road, Ylisstol becoming more detailed as we approach. Standing at the gates, it's hard not to appreciate the height of these walls. Must be easily over fifty feet tall. I catch Agatha almost fall over trying to look up at the top. She smiles sheepishly and hides her face. I try not to laugh for her sake, but fail to keep a couple chuckles out. Fortunately for her, I seem to be the only one who notices.

The guards at the gate don't even bother to check us over. We're allowed straight through. I decide to take the chance to act confused. I'm not supposed to know Chrom and Liston are royalty after all.

"Awfully lax security for a city with such huge walls," I comment, playing up a puzzled tone.

Chrom and Liston both laugh. "Let's just say the guards know we aren't a threat," Chrom says, still laughing as if it's a private joke. Which it would be, but I'm in on it too. I look to Robin, who is surprisingly nodding.

"Makes sense. The guards would be aware of a group like the Shepherds," Robin says musingly.

Oh. That's… logical. Now I just seem stupid. Sullivan gives me a hearty punch in the shoulder. Ow. "We might as well be guards ourselves! Ha!" he rumbles.

We enter the city, me feeling rather buffoonish after my attempt to enhance my act. I push the embarrassment away, focusing on the lively streets of Ylisstol. Everywhere I look, there's a shop or vendor, a merchant peddling trinkets or clothes or food. Oh God, the food. It smells amazing. My mouth waters as we pass a man selling kebabs of meat, the aroma nearly intoxicating.

Chrom sees me eyeing the kebabs greedily. To be fair, she looks just as ravenous. "I'll buy us some," she says, pulling out a fat pouch of coins. She purchases a round for everyone, distributing the kebabs. I bite into mine almost while it's still in Chrom's hand. Delicious. I have no idea what kind of meat it is, but I don't care. I finish the kebab in seconds, pleased the edge is taken off my hunger. Beside me, Chrom munches away. Robin as well. Both have practically zero manners. I guess some things don't change.

As we walk through the streets, I keep waiting for Emmeryn show up, for the scripted dialogue to kick in. It doesn't happen. Another difference. It makes me uneasy, not being able to anticipate what's next. However, it seems events still happen, just differently. Case in point, cue Robin asking why we're headed to the palace.

"If I'm not mistaken, this must be the ruler's residence, correct? It is a grand structure. But why are we here? To request an audience? Can you do that as Shepherds?" Robin says, studying the intricate, looping designs etched into a pair of marble pillars.

Liston shrugs. "We can do a lot of things, considering we live here."

"Ah, yes, it must be a very nice place to—wait. What? You… live here? Does that mean…" Robin trails off, a dawning look of horror emerging.

"Yep! Chrom and I are part of the Exalted family!" he says, smiling brightly. Robin and Agatha both freak. I do my best doubletake, throwing in a gasp for good measure. Pretty solid, if I do say so myself.

"C-Chrom… I mean, Princess Chrom! My Lady! Forgive my dreadful manners. And you too, Prince Liston!" Robin stutters. There's the dialogue. Still a bit different though.

Liston snorts while Chrom waves a dismissive hand. "Just Chrom is fine. I've never been much for formalities."

Agatha is too busy tripping over herself trying to curtsey to hear Chrom's words. "Oh gods! I'm so embarrassed! Please, accept my apologies, your highnesses!"

I bow deeply. "Mine as well!" Jeez, this is tedious.

"Guys, it's OK. Speak to me as you have been. If I'd minded, I would have said something, no?" Chrom sighs, running her fingers through her shoulder-length hair. "Now, come on. We have to meet Emmeryn."

Emmeryn? Not Emmett or some other male version? Emmeryn is far too feminine sounding to be a unisex name. She must be the same. Why though? It makes no sense. Well, normally it would, but not when everything else is abnormal.

Agatha interrupts my thoughts. "Lady Emmeryn? The Exalt? We're meeting the Exalt?! Oh, no, no, no, no, no! I can't do that!"

Liston gives her a thumbs up. "Yes, you can. Don't worry. Emm is very kind. You'll be fine."

"I think I'm gonna faint," Agatha says, her knees wobbling. She takes a few steadying breaths, composing herself. "OK… I'm OK."

"Are you sure?" Chrom asks, her lips settled into a frown.

Agatha nods. "Y-Yes. As much as I can be."

Sullivan taps Chrom on the shoulder. "I'm going to brief the rest of the Shepherds on what happened. I'll take this knucklehead with me," he says, gesturing at Virginie, who suddenly looks quite displeased. She opens her mouth to protest, but a look from Sullivan makes her think otherwise.

Chrom gives her approval and the rest of us file into the palace. The interior is every bit as majestic as I expect it to be. The entry hall is spectacular, a great marble staircase leading up to a lofted second floor. There are more doors than I care to count, each likely leading to another section of the gargantuan castle. Suits of armor holding ceremonial weapons line the velvet carpet roll we walk on. The walls are adorned with paintings and mosaics, some depicting what I assume to be past Exalts while others show fantastic battles. If ever a room could make me feel insignificant, this one does. Robin and Agatha seem to be in similar states of shock and awe. And then I see her. Emmeryn, coming down the stairs flanked by guards and Phila, who is most definitely not male either.

Emmeryn radiates harmony, balance, and peace. That's the best way to describe her. I can talk about her beauty or long blond hair or flowing robes or whatever, but none of that makes Emmeryn who she is. To look upon her is to feel at ease. Why Gangrel wants to murder a woman like this is beyond me. She hasn't even spoken yet, and I already understand how she was able to sacrifice herself. She and I briefly make eye contact. I shiver. If regality can be felt in a sidelong glance, I feel it then. I'm so enraptured that for a moment I fail to notice Robin and Agatha kneeling. Freya as well. I hastily do the same.

"Chrom! Liston! Welcome home. Oh, and good day, Freya. How fared you all?" she asks, her voice smooth and calm. "And please, rise. You all don't need to bow to me." I get up, looking over to see the others doing the same.

Chrom answers, though not with the scripted response. "We dealt with bandits in Southtown… but something terrible has happened." Chrom pauses, as if gathering strength. "Afterwards… there was a quake and the sky opened up, pouring out these nightmarish monsters. Southtown is lost."

The pain is palpable on Emmeryn's face. "Dear Naga…" she says, closing her eyes. Phila takes a step forward.

"We had not heard of what happened to Southtown, but the monsters you speak of have been sighted all across Ylisse," she states professionally, but her tone betrays sorrow.

Emmeryn recovers slightly. "Chrom. Your new companions—are they refugees from Southtown?"

Chrom shakes her head. "I would not call them refugees. We met in Southtown, but they've all been a great help since the disaster. Michael even saved my life." She goes on to introduce us all in turn, gesturing. "Robin. Michael. Agatha. I've decided to make Robin and Michael Shepherds.

"It sounds as though Ylisse owes all of you a debt of gratitude."

"Not at all, milady!" Robin says.

It's odd to hear scripted dialogue in fragments, mostly disregarded but still intact sometimes. I suppose it would be more strange if every conversation happened exactly as it did in the game. These are people after all, not programming.

"Forgive me, Your Grace, but I must speak. Robin claims to have lost their memory, but it is only that: a claim. We cannot rule out the possibility that they have some hand in all this," Freya says. She doesn't mention me. Maybe because I saved Chrom's life?

"Freya!" Chrom objects.

Emmeryn fixes Chrom with an even gaze. "Yet you allowed them into the castle, Chrom. Do they have your trust?" I can't help but think Emmeryn is trying to figure out Robin's gender as well.

Chrom does not hesitate in her answer. "Yes. Robin risked their life to deal with the brigands and those creatures. That's all I need."

Emmeryn smiles. "Well then, Robin… It seems you've earned Chrom's faith, and as such you have mine as well." Her lips twitch slightly. "Though I must ask, Robin… Are you a man or a woman? Forgive me if I intrude."

Oh no. Here we go again. "Can you not tell, milady?" Robin says glibly.

The Exalt tries not to frown. "No, Robin, I cannot."

"Does it really matter?" Robin asks, wagging their eyebrows.

Emmeryn sighs. "I suppose… it does not." She turns to Chrom. "We are about to hold council. I hope you can join us."

"Of course," Chrom says, motioning for Freya to accompany her.

Liston looks at Robin, Agatha, and me. "That's our cue, guys. Come on, let's go. You're gonna meet the rest of the Shepherds."

Agatha seems a little anxious. "Chrom mentioned he knew someone who could get me a job and a place to stay? Do you know who that is?"

Liston laughs. "Emm of course. I'm sure Chrom meant you'd be working in the palace. We can always use more help!"

"The palace!" Agatha exclaims. "But I'm just a plain old innkeeper's assistant… Was an innkeeper's assistant." She stares at the floor.

"Agatha," Liston says, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry about it. We've got you covered. Now, we've got Shepherds to see!"

Satisfied that Agatha is reassured, Liston practically pushes us out the door. We walk across the palace grounds towards a modest barracks. Well, "modest" is a bit kind. The building is old and in desperate need of a renovation. Stones no longer line up evenly, the window glass is weathered and foggy, and ugly vines claim substantial portions of the walls. Disgustingly rustic is a better term for this place, especially considering its proximity to the castle.

"Here we are!" Liston says proudly.

"This is where the Shepherds live?" I ask incredulously.

"Don't let the looks fool you. The inside is what counts," Liston says, still beaming with zeal.

We shall see. I don't actually mind the building much. After the past two days, anything with a roof will do. I'm more concerned about the Shepherds I haven't met yet. I assume they'll all be opposite genders too. Which is fine except….

For the sake of all that is holy, please be wearing a shirt, Vaike.

Author's Note: You all continue to amaze me with your support! The story has now been viewed 1600 times. Maybe that's not actually a lot, but it is to me. As I've said before, you all are the reason I write. I want to make you smile and laugh and enjoy reading my fic. I'm glad so many people seem to be reading it (or at least clicking), because I have big plans! Michael and the gang are in for a lot in the coming chapters. Now, review responses!

Clutchvm- Trust me, it's not easy pumping these chapters out, but I love it! It's awesome to hear you're liking the changes! Yeah, I plan to have Michael and Freya's interaction be a large part of the story, so hopefully they start getting along, right?

DatGuyAlucard- I think for the purposes of this fic, classes do not exist. People are better or worse at certain styles of fighting or weapons, but since reality vs. fantasy is a theme in this story, all "video game" elements are gone.

Hammerschlag- Haha no way I have the stones to kill off Chrom. And believe me, to write this fic I needed to fully envision and plan out Chrom as a woman for it to work. Of course, this is all assuming MichaelxF!Chrom is the ship. ;)

Serendipidous/ Serendipitous- It's ok; sometimes I can't spell mine either. I actually updated my bio after reading your review. It was a year old, and I've since graduated. Plus, the fic I mentioned there is not this one. That particular fic was an FE9 AU SI. But I'm really happy you're enjoying this one so much! And an FE7 fic… Hmm, maybe. Blazing Sword is one of my very favorites.