Chapter VII: To be a Shepherd

So, good news: Vaike is not topless. Bad news: The "top" is nothing but an armored bra. At least it's more of a plate armor sports bra and less of a Victoria's Secret lingerie piece. Still, it's revealing enough to make poor Sullivan look everywhere except at Vaike—sorry, "Vaiva." Her boisterous demeanor doesn't help either. Neither does the fact her chest is, well… huge.

"So," she says, having gone through some of the scripted dialogue, albeit changed and absent Sumia. "Who are these strangers?"

"No one's stranger than you, Vaiva. But allow me to introduce Robin, Michael, and Agatha! Robin and Michael are new Shepherds, and Agatha will be working in the palace. Chrom's decided to make Robin our new tactician. Michael is a woodworker, so he's going to be making sure all our training equipment is in tiptop shape. You know, the wooden swords and axes and training dummies. These guys are amazing!" Liston introduces us with gusto. We all wave tentatively.

Vaiva grins maniacally. "Oh yeah? Can any of them do this?" I expect a long and loud belch, but what happens is much, much worse. It's long and loud all right, but it doesn't come from her mouth. For a moment, we're stunned. Then the gagging begins. Jesus fucking Christ, woman! Did you eat a Risen? Vaiva laughs throughout the whole ordeal, pointing at Maribelle— "Marius"—who's doubled over and trying not to puke.

To my satisfaction, Robin does not compliment Vaiva. "That was seriously disgusting," they say, wrinkling their nose, "Is that how you greet all new recruits?"

Marius straightens, giving Vaiva a glare almost too severe for words. "Ugh, Vaiva! That was abhorrent! Were you born in the sewer? From some grotesque blob? Something lower than a troglodyte! You are literally a pollutant. I don't have to stand here for this savagery." He looks at Robin, Agatha, and me. "Good day to you all. May the gods protect you from this idiocy!" Marius stomps off, heading up a flight of stairs and out of sight.

Liston scowls at Vaiva. "Not cool. Way not cool."

Vaiva seems genuinely surprised her antics go unappreciated. "You mean you didn't think it was funny?"

"Is anyone laughing, Vaiva?" Liston rolls his eyes. "Please forgive this moron. I promise she doesn't represent the Shepherds as a whole."

Vaiva sulks while I shake my head. "It's fine. Every village has its idiot, right?"

"Hey, watch it, buddy," Vaiva growls.

Liston thumps her on the back. "Don't be mad because it's true, Vaiva." He pauses, looking the warrior over. "Where's your axe?"

She blinks. "Huh. It's right… AH! Where did it go?" She frets.

"See? You don't even know where your own axe went," Liston says smugly. "If the Shepherds are a village, you're definitely the idiot. But you're our idiot, Vaiva." Liston smiles warmly.

Vaiva groans, having given up on finding her axe. "Whatever."

A young man with light-brown hair comes down the stairs, looking a little anxious. His chest piece is pearl colored, etched with swirling designs. He wears riding breeches and tall boots laced tight. One hand holds a pair of reins.

"Ah, Sumner! Come meet the new guys!" Liston says upon seeing him, making a come-hither motion.

Sumner walks towards us, stopping next to Vaiva. "Marius told me you were down here," he says kindly before turning to Liston. "Er, might I ask where the captain is?"

"You've been frettin' over her all day, Sumner! Couldn't even block my attacks in practice!" Vaiva says, irritated.

Liston grins. "A little worried about Chrom, huh?"

Sumner laughs nervously. "Well, I… um. She's our captain and princess! It's only natural to worry!" he explains, tripping over the words. Yeah, this guy is definitely Sumia.

And he annoys me. I can't explain why. He seems like a nice guy.

"Chrom is in a council meeting. You'll see her soon." I say a little harshly. Wow, that came out wrong. No need to be a dick to Sumner, man.

He catches my eye as I speak, clearly bemused by my tone. "I'm sorry. I never introduced myself to you all. I'm Sumner." He shakes each of our hands, spending a little longer on mine. "Can I have your names?

"Michael," I say, still sounding surly. Robin and Agatha say their names as well.

Sumner cocks his head at Robin, and I already know what's about to happen. "I don't mean to be rude, but I can't tell if you're a man or woman… Not in a bad way though!"

"Don't bother," I snap, cutting in. "We've all tried multiple times to find out." Robin looks crestfallen, having been denied the opportunity to mess with us again.

"Did I do something to offend you, Michael?" Sumner asks politely, nothing but concern in his voice. Stop being so nice, dude.

"No, I… I've just had a long last couple of days. Sorry," I reply, feeling guilty about my less than friendly first impression. What's gotten into me?

He smiles. "I understand. Sullivan told us what happened. It must have been awful… All those people… And those horrible things… I'm sorry the rest of us weren't there to aid you"

"Yeah, well, we made it. That's what counts, right?" I say in a slightly more placid voice. I look sideways to see Robin staring at me shrewdly.

Sumner nods. "I suppose so. I'm glad you did."

"As am I." Chrom steps through the doorway. "Apologies. I couldn't help but hear the tail end of that conversation."

"C-C-C-Captain! You've r-r-r-returned! I… W-W-W-We were so w-w-w-worried!" Sumner says, well, attempts to say. It seems that rather than faceplanting, he stumbles in a whole other manner around Chrom. Again, I feel annoyed.

"Sumner, there's that stutter again! You should really have someone try to help you with that," Chrom says, completely oblivious.

Blushing, Sumner stammers some more. "I'm t-t-t-trying!"

Chrom gives him a reassuring smile. "Hang in there! I know you'll overcome it someday," she says before adopting a pose of authority. "During the council meeting, we decided to march for Regna Ferox in the morning."

There's a collective whispering as Robin asks what Regna Ferox is.

"A kingdom to the north," Sumner answers. "They're well known for their ferocity. Some even say they're barbarians." Seems like the stutter only happens when he speaks to Chrom directly.

The princess shakes her head. "Not barbarians. Warriors. We're going to need their prowess if we hope to stem the tide of this new threat. Normally, Emmeryn would go herself, but given the circumstances we do not want to alarm the people with her sudden departure. So, it's up to us." Chrom pauses, making eye contact with each of the Shepherds present. "This mission is voluntary, so if you don't—"

"I'm in," Liston says instantly. "As if I'd let you go alone."

"Ol' Teach is comin' too! You're gonna need my axe for a mission like this," Vaiva declares, flexing her admittedly pretty solid muscles.

"You can't even find it," Liston chirps.

Vaiva rounds on him. "Details!"

"I'll go as well." I literally jump into the air at the soft voice. A tall woman wearing a massive suit of armor stands directly behind me. Despite her size, she has the most unassuming presence I've ever encountered. The rest of the group seems equally flabbergasted, save Agatha.

"Gods, Kelda! You've got to stop doing that!" Chrom yells, startled.

"Doing what?" asks Agatha.

"You know, the whole stealthy stealth thing," Liston says, miming sneaking about.

"But she's been here the whole time. You all really didn't notice? She's huge!" Agatha walks over to Kelda, using her hands to articulate difference in height. It's true; the giant knight dwarfs me as well.

"You…. can see me?" Kelda asks, looking at Agatha in wonder.

She nods. "Of course. How could I not?" Kelda's face is equal parts appreciation and disappointment. Right, Kellam in the games is secretly proud of his ability.

"Well," Chrom says with a sigh. "I guess if we need to find you, we'll just call for Agatha." Seriously. I give up if I can't spot a person this big. In fact… where is she now? Shit. How is this possible?

While I desperately search for Kelda to no avail, Sumner speaks. "Er… C-C-C-Captain. I'm not s-s-s-sure I'm r-r-r-ready for a big m-m-m-mission yet. I m-m-m-might get in the w-w-w-way."

Chrom scratches her chin. "You can stay behind the front lines and watch, if you like. You can at least study us. Though, some lessons are only learnt on the battlefield."

Sumner nods. "If y-y-y-you t-t-t-think I s-s-s-should."

"Don't worry. If we stick together, you'll be fine." Chrom flashes a winning smile. Sumner about keels over. There's that hint of annoyance again. Damn.

Images of Sumner swooping down the save Chrom at the Longfort invade my thoughts as unwelcome visitors. I don't like it. I don't like the idea of Sumner flying through the air being all dazzling and shit. Dude can barely talk, but he gets to zip around in the sky with Chrom on the back of his pegasus? While I sit here trying to pretend I know how the hell to make a training dummy? Fuck that.

"I want to go," I say firmly.

Chrom's frown makes my confidence crumble. "This mission will likely see combat, Michael. You have no experience. I can't let you risk your life when you have no training."

I contemplate that for a moment, weighing my rebuttal. "You just told Sumner he could stay out of the fight and watch. I don't have to be in the thick of it. Listen, Chrom, I can't just sit here while everyone else goes." In truth, I don't want to risk my life. But I don't want to stay at the barracks either.

"Sumner isn't helpless," Chrom counters. OK. Ouch. "He has experience. You don't. If it comes to a fight, he can defend himself." She blows a hair out of her face, as if this argument is troublesome.

"Then train me," I say stubbornly. "I want to go."

She purses her lips. "You joined us as a woodworker, Michael. Not a fighter."

Damnit. I'm going to have to tell the truth, aren't I? Or at least some of it. I sigh. They'd have figured it out as soon as I tried to make something anyways. "I lied. I don't know how to make wooden swords or axes or training dummies. I can maybe make a shitty table or bookshelf. I just wanted to join the Shepherds. I wanted to be a part of this." I gesture around me. "In my village, I was just a… merchant. My uncle really did teach me everything I know about woodworking… I'm just not very good. So, take me or leave me, Chrom. You know the truth now."

The wounded expression on her face is like a sucker punch. I violated her trust. "Why did you lie, Michael? I trusted you."

Honesty is still the best policy, right? "I… I didn't think I'd be enough if I was just… me. I needed to be more. Would you have accepted me if I hadn't lied? Would you have told someone who's no use on the battlefield that they can tag along? You just proved you wouldn't have. I did what I had to do." I meet her gaze, challenging her. If she kicks me out., she kicks me out. I'm not going to fake it anymore. I want to be a Shepherd. Not some pretend version of me.

Chrom looks at a loss for words. The other Shepherds are silent. It becomes clear this is conversation purely between Chrom and I. Slowly, they find excuses to leave the room, and one by one they disappear until it's just the two of us. I'm thankful for that. I hardly want to bare my soul in front of all these people.

"Michael," Chrom starts, her voice soft and low. "Why would you think you weren't enough?"

I laugh, though it's mirthless. "Look at me. Do you see a warrior?"

"I see the person who put his life in jeopardy to save mine," she replies, her mouth curving upward slightly in devastating fashion.

I don't have a response to that. I simply stare, feeling limp. Chrom takes my silence as reason to go on.

"A person isn't a Shepherd because I say they are, Michael. Your actions make you a Shepherd. And that doesn't mean fighting bandits or monsters. That doesn't mean anything by itself. Shepherds are willing to sacrifice themselves for others. When you went into the fire to save me… You became a Shepherd."

"What are you saying?" I ask, not daring to look away.

"I'm saying exactly what I mean. You're a Shepherd. Yes, you broke my trust. That hurt. But I still believe in you. And I believe your heart is in the right place." Chrom takes a step closer, her eye glittering in a way they hadn't before.

"If all that is true, then take me with you to Regna Ferox," I insist.

She pauses. "No."

Anger flares up. "Why not?!" I demand. "You said it's a volunteer mission. I'm fucking volunteering."

Chrom looks away, her hair hiding her face. "I don't want you to get hurt."

I sigh. "That's a stupid reason."

Her eyes snap back to me, blazing. "No, it isn't! My heart had stopped. You brought me back. I don't have the ability to do that for you."

"So, this is about you, not me."

"Not entirely. You really don't know how to fight," she says, her voice a little more baseline again.

"Like I said, teach me."

Realizing the back and forth is futile, Chrom throws her arms in the air. "Fine! You win! Fine. You can come. But you are to stay out of battle. I'll decide when you're ready."

Victory surges through me. I resist the urge to pump my fist in the air. I'm going to Regna Ferox.

Oh shit. I'm going to Regna Ferox. The full meaning of that revelation hits me. This is the real deal. And because of the timeline, I can't foresee anything. I know what should happen. But what will happen? If I try to change things, to help using my knowledge of the game, I risk breaking things even more than they already are. On top of that, I'm learning to fight too? I feel a little sick.

"Michael, are you OK?" Chrom asks. "You look pale."

"I'm fine," I say quickly. "Just tired. And convincing you… it was exhausting."

Chrom laughs, a feathery sound. "You say that as if it wasn't exhausting for me too. You're quite persistent." Her expression changes to a serious one. "But if you're tired, get some rest. We have plenty of empty rooms. The entire third floor is still unused. Pick whichever room you like."

I nod, a wave of fatigue crashing into me. "I think I'll take you up on that." I move past Chrom, my head filled with a cacophony of thoughts. "Goodnight."

She catches me by the arm as I brush past, her fingertips pressing lightly into my skin. "Michael… Don't ever feel like you aren't worth it." Chrom stares at me for several moments before letting go. "Goodnight."

All I can do is nod, looking down and walking briskly. I rush up the stairs, finding myself on the third floor in no time. I pick the first room on the left, fiddling with the old knob for a second until it finally allows me inside. The room is small but cozy. A bed vastly more appealing than the one at the inn awaits in the back-right corner. Beside it sits a small nightstand, roughly hewn from what looks like oak. A bookcase and desk round out the room on the other side, though the bookcase is empty. I flop onto the bed, a puff of dust clouding the air momentarily. I sneeze. The room needs a thorough cleaning. Regardless, I curl up on the bed, pulling the blankets over myself.

I don't remember falling asleep. Dreams of Risen and death and destruction plague me. I awake after a nightmare involving Chrom being torn apart by the rabid undead, me paralyzed on the sidelines and unable to assist. Sweat rolls down my neck, and I toss the covers off. I feel the effects of the dream still, the despair of being powerless, the cold pit in my stomach. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, feet dragging against the wood flooring. The dream felt real, and I breathe in deeply in an effort to recuperate. It doesn't work. I get up, pushing open the door, using my hand against the wall to navigate through the dark. I wander the halls of the barracks, knowing that I'm lost but not caring. I just want to go somewhere, anywhere, to escape my thoughts. Problem with that is you carry them around with you everywhere.

Finding myself at a window overlooking the training yard, I stare at the equipment, the things I was supposed to be able to build and maintain. The moonlight casts it all in an eerie glow, an off-white silver that's oddly bright. Perhaps the lack of electricity allows the stars and moon to shine at their full force. I search for a door to the outside, eventually locating it.

The night air is crisp and cuts through my thin layer of clothing. It doesn't bother me; it's a distraction from the nightmare, from the thoughts of what the journey to Regna Ferox will bring. I step on something. Looking down, I see that it's a training sword, wooden and battered with hefty use. When I pick it up, the sword feels awkward in my hand, too long and heavy. Nevertheless, I stride over to a training dummy and take a swing, a wide arc that misses entirely. Pathetic. I try again, managing only weak blows that rattle my arm. Frustrated, I grip the sword in both hands, beating it against the dummy like a baseball bat. I do this over and over at full strength, letting the anger flow. The sword busts, splintering at the hilt in my hands.

Collapsing onto the grass, I lie spread eagle, arms throbbing, palms scraped and burning. Did it feel good, battering that poor training dummy? Maybe. Did it make all the apprehension, the trepidation, the anxiety go away? No. I'm just as flustered as before.

"We don't have an unlimited supply of those," a voice says above me.

I sit up and turn around to see Freya, dressed plainly in a tunic and pants, standing with her arms folded across her chest. "Milady informed me of what you said. Appears I was not wrong to think you were lying."

"If you're here to gloat, you can fuck off," I say sharply, hauling myself from the ground.

"On the contrary, I'm here to thank you," she says. "Or I should say I'm taking the opportunity after being awoken by someone beating a training mannequin senseless."

I give her a questioning look. "Thank me? For what?"

She leans down to collect the broken pieces of the sword. "For your honesty," Freya says, adjusting the pieces of wood under her arm. "I can't trust anyone who isn't telling the truth."

"Are you saying you trust me now?" I snort.

Freya lets out a restrained laugh. "Hardly. But it's a start." She walks past me to inspect the damage I've done to the dummy. "You must have thought milady was going to remove you from the Shepherds."

I scowl. "It may have crossed my mind."

"I would not have been sad to see you go," Freya says, looking up at me.

I roll my eyes. "No shit." I blow out a long sigh. "Look, is there a point to this, or are you just gonna insult me?"

Freya runs her finger along a deep gouge in the mannequin. "You swing a sword quite hard." She straightens, using her free hand to point at the shards under her arm. "These aren't meant to break."

I laugh derisively. "It wouldn't have broken if it wasn't so shitty and old. Who the hell makes those things?"

"I made it," Freya says, sounding a marginally peeved.

"Well, you're shit. What kind of wood is this?" I ask, knowing the answer but wanting to be sure.

"Pine from the forest outside the city." She sounds pleased with herself.

I shake my head. "Why the hell would you use a softwood like pine for a sword? You literally beat this against things all day. You want a hardwood. Oak, cherry, or birch. Something like that."

Freya turns red. "Milady said you lied about your knowledge of woodworking."

"I did," I say flatly. "But this is the basic of the basic. Even amateurs can select the right kind of wood. Pine breaks easily. You didn't help yourself by making the part where the blade joins the hilt too thin either."

She looks personally offended. "I've made dozens of those. How many have you made?"

"Zero. Which is better than you, because I haven't made a bunch of shitty ones."

"If you're so confident in your opinion, maybe you should make them." Freya wears a smug expression.

Shit. I'm not getting roped into this. "I don't know how," I say, which is now a lie, having observed one.

"But obviously you know how so much better than me," she says tauntingly. I know what's happening, but I'm powerless to resist. Damn this woman.

"You know what? I will make these swords, and they'll be the best damn training swords you've ever seen." Fuck it. If she wants to bait me into doing what I said I'd do in the first place, fine. She can bait me.

Freya dons a holier-than-thou expression. "Then it's settled. You'll make all our practice swords." She promptly turns and goes back inside without another word. I can guarantee she was smiling the whole way.

I stand in the training yard feeling foolish for a long time. Sighing, I head into the barracks as well. The sun will probably rise soon, and I need as much sleep as possible to be ready for the march tomorrow. And to forget being outwitted by Freya.

Stupid wooden swords.

Author's Note: And there you have it, Mike is going on an adventure. Where it will lead him, who knows? But I suppose if you've read this far, you're interested in finding out! So, thank you for supporting my story in all its wackiness. It's been quite a ride so far, writing so much in so little time. But as I said last time, I love it! Anywho, review responses!

Serendipitous- Your reviews are so encouraging! I look forward to them now. Thanks for the catch with the "Frederick" slip; it's been fixed. Since you brought up recruiting Emmeryn, this is as good a time as any to say that the SpotPass chapters are not canon in this story. There is an actual reason for this that will be explained, but you'll have to read to find out! Suffice to say, Mike is going to start wondering about it too. And yes, I'm glad Agatha's sticking around too!

Hammerschlag- Your reviews as well are also very encouraging. I like knowing that at least one person as been there since the beginning (all of two weeks ago lol). But thank you for your praise! I actually think pretty hard about the words I use. Sometimes I just stare at a word for a long time, wondering if it's fine to use.

Guest- I'm so glad you find it interesting! I'm certainly going to keep it up!