Chapter VIII: The Road to Regna Ferox

I awake to the smell of… bacon. Yes, bacon. And eggs. And pancakes.

Oh my God. Bacon. Eggs. Pancakes.

I repeat the holy trinity of breakfast in my head like a mantra as I roll out of bed. All I ate yesterday was that kebab, so I'm understandably famished. Not having a mirror or another set of clothes—and not caring at present—I don't go through any morning rituals before leaving my room. Though I do vaguely wonder if I might be able to procure a toothbrush. Or some medieval equivalent. Chrom and the others have clean teeth, so they must have something.

Once in the hall, I hear commotion below, the sounds of conversation and dishes clattering about. I head downstairs, following the sounds and smells of breakfast. I end up on the ground floor, and after taking a few turns find myself in what must be the mess. All the Shepherds are gathered here, divided up among the several long tables dotting the room. In the center of each is a treasure trove, a glorious cornucopia of food. Yes, there's bacon, eggs, and pancakes, but there's also muffins, sausages, biscuits and gravy, and bread. And butter. And jam. Sweet baby Jesus.

I scan the tables, picking out the people I know and the one's I don't. Everyone I've met thus far is here plus a couple new additions. A man with glasses and a pointy wizard's hat sits very still at the end of one of the tables, closely observing a muffin. The woman beside him is also new—messy olive hair done up in a hasty ponytail and wearing a green shirt. Miriel and Stahl, I'm guessing. Or I think I remember Chrom mentioning a "Miro." I wonder what Stahl's name is? Wait, didn't Stahl miss breakfast in the game? Another minor change. I don't see Ricken either, so there's that as well.

"This muffin is exquisite! The texture is so… so ambrosial! You simply must allow me to catalog its properties, Stana," Miro says, eyes bulging at the muffin.

Stana looks at the muffin then Miro. "I didn't do anything special. It's just a muffin. Really, I just felt like eating a lot of muffins."

Miro clutches the muffin, inhaling deeply. "Balderdash! The aroma alone supplicates mastication."

"Right…" Stana nods, but her face is beyond confused.

Miro goes on and on about the muffin, and I tune out the pair out. You can only hear so many big words about muffins before you need to eat one. I settle myself at Chrom's table—one she shares with Liston, Freya, and Robin.

"Morning, Michael!" Liston says. Is he always so chipper?

"Morning," I mumble groggily, grabbing a plate and piling it high with bacon, eggs, and pancakes. I grab a muffin too for good measure. They're apparently exquisite.

"Quite an appetite you have there," Chrom says, amused. Like she has any room to talk. Her plate is stacked with food as well.

"I'm hungry," I say bluntly, punctuating the words with a forkful of egg.

"Clearly," Freya observes, picking daintily at a sausage, cutting it into pieces before taking a bite.

I'm too busy shoveling eggs and bacon into my face to respond. Holy crap. Whoever made this can cook. I take a bite of the muffin, savoring its rich flavor. Did Stana do everything, not just the muffins? "Who made all this?" I ask, drenching my pancakes in syrup.

Chrom points her fork in Stana's direction. "Stana, the woman in green over there, did most of the work. But Sumner, Kelda, and Freya helped. Or at least I think Kelda helped…" Freya, huh? I give her a glance, raising my fork in a kind of breakfast tribute.

I nod at Chrom. "I heard Stana talking to the man with the glasses about making the muffins. Miro, right?"

"Yes. He's… very intelligent," Chrom says, though she sounds as if "intelligent" doesn't cover it.

Liston sighs. "I can only understand about half of everything he says."

I get the distinct feeling a trying to speak to Miro requires a thesaurus. If he's anything like the Miriel in the game, I want to avoid him at all costs. If anyone is going to see through me, to deduce I'm not from this world, it's Miro. I'll need to be extra careful around him.

Steadfast in my determination to make myself scarce when Miro is present, I return to breakfast. These pancakes aren't going to eat themselves. Each mouthful is heaven. Sweet, sweet heaven. Seriously, Stana, please never stop being hungry. The world would be a lesser place without this breakfast.

I spend the rest of the meal in relative silence, listening to Liston chatter rather than join in myself. I make the occasional small talk remark, but mostly I drift into thoughts of Regna Ferox, more specifically the Risen we're supposed to encounter on the way there. I have no way of knowing when it will happen. The game made it seem like it wasn't long after they'd left, but with all the changes… It's as good as an ambush as far as I'm concerned. This is going to be a very unpleasant journey.

"Michael." I startle at the sound of Chrom's voice. "Welcome back to the living." She laughs, grinning widely.

"What?" I ask, looking up from my long empty plate. "Did I miss something?"

"We're getting ready to head out soon. I need to take you to get properly equipped," she says, still smiling. "I hope you didn't plan on coming along unarmed."

Wielding a weapon didn't even cross my mind. Probably should have, considering I know this is a dangerous mission. I'd also asked her just last night to train me to fight. "Well, I'd rather be armed than disarmed. If you get my meaning." I make a few chopping motions.

Chrom giggles. Yes, giggles. "Ha! You're funny, aren't you?"

I feel my face heat up. "Um… Yeah, if you say so…"

She stands, waving me over with a hand. "Come on, Michael," she says with a little laugh. "Let's go get you a sword and some armor."

Most people would probably feel pretty awesome about now, right? I mean, who doesn't want a sword? I just feel tense. The ramifications of fighting in battle haven't hit me until this moment. What if I don't learn fast enough? What if I have zero talent? What if people get hurt because of me?

What if I die?

Shit, Achilles was a badass, and all it took was a poisoned arrow to the heel. I'm not Achilles. I'm not even the guy who polishes his shield. I'm maybe the dude who empties his chamber pot. Thoughts swirling, I follow Chrom to the armory.

Inside there are rows upon rows of weapons, shields, and armor pieces. Every available space is covered with war paraphernalia. Most of the armaments seem used or at least aged, but a few stand out as newly forged.

Chrom faces me, arms outstretched as if to encompass the area. "Here we are! The Shepherds' stockpile. We've more equipment here than we can use, so I believe it's safe to say you can have your pick." She hesitates, scratching her cheek. "Well, I can have your pick. I might know more about all this than you."

She'll hear no complaint from me. "Don't worry. I trust your judgement," I say, already overwhelmed by the options.

"Well, for a beginner like you, we probably want a basic sword and shield combination," she explains, browsing the various shields. "In general, it's better to have a shield than not. Especially for an inexperienced combatant."

That's a little hypocritical. "You don't use a shield," I point out.

Chrom taps Falchion at her hip. "But I wield a sword that can be used with two hands. When all else fails, I block with my pauldron."

"That makes sense," I concur, noting that Chrom is also a flashier fighter than most.

She traces the wood grain on a round shield, knocking the round metal piece in the center. Chrom makes a noise of approval. "Here, try this one," she says, walking over with the shield and handing it to me.

The first thing I notice is how light is it considering it covers most of my upper body. The second is the meticulous engraving along the shield's iron rim, a pattern of leaves and branches. Clearly, someone put a lot of love into this shield. I loop my right arm through the leather fittings on the back, lifting the shield up and down to test its stability. Feels good.

"So?" Chrom asks. "How is it?"

I raise the shield as if intercepting a strike. "It's not too heavy or big. It doesn't wobble when I move around. This is a nice shield. Or I suppose it is, since I know nothing about them."

"It is a nice shield," Chrom states, more as a fact than in agreement with me. "Now you need a nice sword. That's a lot trickier." She glides over to a sword rack, sizing them up. "A good sword is different for different people. There's are many factors to think about, but the most important is balance. A sword should feel like an extension of your arm."

"And what does that feel like, exactly?" I ask.

Chrom shrugs. "You just know. When I hold Falchion, everything feels right. No other sword is quite the same." She selects a sword, holding it out to me. "Give it a swing."

Accepting the blade, I turn away from Chrom to slash the air. Wrong. Something's off about the sword. I shake my head. "Not this one," I say, handing it back.

She nods, looking contemplative before choosing another sword. I stab with that one as well. Again, not for me. We go through several swords in this manner, though Chrom never loses her patience. Finally, she gives me an exceptionally plain sword. No frills, no designs, no carvings or markings. It's perfect. Like she said, I just know. This is my sword. My weapon.

After a few seconds with the sword, I look at Chrom. "This is it," I say with certainty.

Chrom doesn't question my decision. She tosses me the scabbard. "Then it's yours."

By the time we leave the armory, I'm fully outfitted with a sword and shield, boots, leather gloves, and a gambeson. It's like I stepped into a Renaissance fair and came out Aragorn. Not that I'm complaining. What is it people say? Look good, feel good? To an extent, it's true. I'm still tense, but at least now I look the part of a proper soldier.

Most of the Shepherds are gathered outside the barracks, save Marius and Ricken, the former of whom I know to be headed to Themis. Ricken is still a mystery. I assume he is now a she, but I don't know if that would affect things. Ricken's a child after all. For Marius's sake, I hope Ricken is lurking around somewhere. I can't rely on my own ability to save him from Aversa, and that's if events even play out as they do in the game. Maybe I should warn Chrom of an attack on Themis? But that makes me look suspicious, as I can't explain how I know such information. It's probably best to try and minimize my disruption of events. For all I know, my direct involvement could make matters worse. Then again, I'm already a Shepherd. Decisions, decisions. In the end, I elect to say nothing, hoping I don't regret it.

"Chrom! Michael!" Liston greets us as we exit the barracks. "The rest of the Shepherds are getting antsy. Are we ready?"

Beside me, Chrom nods. "If everyone else is prepared, then yes," she says, then raises her voice. "OK, Shepherds! Get ready to move out! We have a long road ahead to Regna Ferox."

The Shepherds mobilize immediately, Freya, Sullivan, and Stana all mounting horses while Sumner ushers his pegasus into the sky. I guess Freya and Sullivan found new horses. With a pang, I remember Sullivan's horse. Poor bastard. I see Vaiva and realize I need to do something to assuage my guilt.

"Hey, Vaiva! Forget your axe again?" I yell in a teasing manner.

"Course I got it! Ol' girl is right… DAMNIT!" she swears, sprinting into the barracks while the Shepherds around her laugh. You can thank me later, Vaiva, my friend.

While Vaiva is gone, Agatha runs across the courtyard, her face sweaty and red. "Thank the gods you haven't already left! I thought I wasn't going to get to see you off!" She stops in front of me, hands on her knees. Once she catches her breath, she holds out a small sack. "I made this for you. It's lunch."

I point at myself. "Um, just me?"

Agatha cocks her head. "Yeah, just you," she says. "I never thanked you for saving my life. I know it's not much, but…"

Slowly, I take the lunch sack. "Thanks, Agatha," I say, a little surprised but pleased.

She pokes me in the shoulder. "You better come back alive."

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine," I say, though honestly I'm not sure.

Agatha nods. "You better be. OK. I'm leaving now. Stay safe." With that, she turns to walk away.

My brows furrow. "You're not gonna say goodbye?"

Without turning around, she says, "I don't do goodbyes!"

I laugh as she makes her way back to the palace. Weirdo.

Vaiva returns, axe safely in her possession, and we hit the road. Doing some asking around, I find that the trip to Regna Ferox usually takes about a week on foot, give or take a day for favorable or unfavorable conditions. This is very disheartening, if unsurprising, news. Fortunately, there are a couple spare horses loaded with food and supplies, so at least we're well-prepared for the mission. Unfortunately, a week is a long time to be wondering when a horde of Risen will attack. Day one? Day two? Day five? I know the constant need for vigilance will drive me insane. Granted, I'm not the only one worried about Risen. Chrom and Robin both decide it's best to send Freya and Sumner ahead of the group to scout. This eases my mind slightly, but the next seven days are going to be hell in more than one way. Hey, at least I can call them Risen now that the council's named them.

On a positive note, the landscape dazzles. Mountains loom in the distance while a river—the Glavka, according to Chrom—flows from their foothills. Woodland flanks our road, much thicker than south of Ylisstol. It rises and falls with the hills, a sea of green. Occasionally, the river winds through great bluffs, their stone weathered by years of the water's relentless stream. I can say a lot of things about walking all day, but that's it ugly isn't one of them.

"So, Michael," someone beside me says. "I don't think we've been properly introduced."

I turn to see Stana, her horse trotting alongside me. She's holding out her hand, which I shake. "No, we haven't," I reply. "I heard you cooked breakfast this morning. It was delicious."

"Oh, I only learned to cook because I'm always hungry. But I figure I need to do everything I can to earn my keep, you know? So, I make most of the meals. Though I do have lots of help. Usually from Freya and Sumner. Never Sullivan." Her placid expression falters momentarily, as if recalling a disastrous cooking session.

I laugh, imagining Sullivan in an apron, doing his darnedest to whip up a quality dish. "Well, all I'm saying is that if you ever hang it up as a Shepherd, you've got a future as a chef."

Stana waves her hands in front of herself. "Oh, no, I could never. And, besides I'm pretty content where I am. Even though I'm only average at all this."

"You're definitely way above average at cooking," I assure her.

She smiles, a bright one that reaches her eyes. "If my cooking makes people happy, then that's all that matters. So, thank you. Do you like to cook, Michael?"

Saturday afternoons as a kid with my mom and dad, grilling up hotdogs and burgers, come to mind. "Yeah, I do," I say wistfully.

"Is something the matter?" Stana asks.

"No… I just… Your question reminded me of some people I used to have in my life." I don't want to cry in front of Stana. Or anyone, really. So, I lock up the emotions before they drift too far.

Stana hums lightly. "You miss them." It's not a question. "You know, Michael, the Shepherds are like a family. We all look out for one another. Nobody gets left behind."

I attempt to turn my feelings off, but it's not working. "I never said anything about family."

"You didn't have to." Goddamn perceptive people.

"Look, can we talk about something else?"

She blinks and suddenly looks very concerned. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to upset you. I could just tell you were a bit down, and I wanted to help. It's probably not my place, though…"

I give her a forced smile. "You're fine. This is just something I have to deal with on my own."

Stana doesn't say anything, though I know she wants to. The ensuing silence is awkward, and we slowly let the distance between increase until we're no longer side by side. I don't want to think about it, but what Stana said is true. I miss them. I miss my family so much. I'm barely keeping myself together. Fuck this. It's my own fault I'm here. I don't have the right to miss them.

Sumner appears in the sky, racing towards us at high speed.

Interrupting Catastrophe?

"Risen!" he shouts. "Risen along the road to the north!"

Yep. Interrupting Catastrophe.

Looks like the Risen are a day one problem. Bile rises in my throat. How many are there? How long do we have until they're on us? Forest frames the road, so much so that I cannot see past the curve up ahead. Doesn't give us much time to prepare once we see them. I wonder what Robin's plan is? Freya comes riding into view, skidding to a halt before Chrom.

"Milady, we've only minutes before the Risen engage us. They outnumber us at least four to one." There are twelve Shepherds, myself included, so probably about fifty Risen. Fantastic.

Chrom acknowledges Freya before turning to the rest of the Shepherds. "Battle formation, everyone! Melee in front, ranged in back. Sumner and Michael, stay out of the fight!"

Robin runs to Chrom's side. "Wait! There's a better way! If we make a plain stand against so many, we're going to be overrun! We don't have long so listen carefully," Robin glances at Chrom for approval to take command, which she gives. "OK. We're going to ambush them. These woods are dense. We can easily hide on either side. Half our number will move to one side and half to the other. When the Risen appear, we attack from both sides at once, crushing them. Now, we don't have the manpower for sustained combat, so hit and run. These things aren't very smart. At least half will go down in our initial strike. The rest we will pick off after retreating back into the forest. Chrom, Liston, Freya, Vaiva, Michael, and myself will make up one team. Sullivan, Stana, Virginie, Miro, Kelda, and Sumner will comprise the other. Yes, I'm sorry Michael and Sumner, but I need you both for this to bolster our shock force. Are we clear?"

It takes a moment to digest Robin's speech, but Chrom is objecting only seconds later. "No way. Michael can't fight, and Sumner isn't confident in battle yet."

"Chrom, they won't have to have to do much. We just need them to slash and dash. Nothing lengthy. And Sumner can attack from the sky, the principle is the same. There's no other way this works for certain. Michael may be a novice, but he can swing a sword." Yeah, barely, Robin.

I'm scared shitless. But if Robin needs me, Robin needs me. Either I swing my sword like a madman, or I sit back and watch my friends possibly die. The choice is easy. "I'll do it."

"Me too!" Sumner says, having landed a while ago. Seeing the determination, the bravery in his eyes, I feel a pang of shame. I really was a dick to him yesterday. He deserves an apology. A proper one. I don't believe I realized it until just now, but know why I acted so poorly: jealousy. Stupid, petty jealousy. His affection for Chrom forced me to notice by own burgeoning feelings. However, it's not the time for this.

"But—" Chrom begins.

Robin cuts her off. "No buts! We're running out of time. We need to set up the ambush now! Or we will die."

Chrom clenches her fists. "Gods, I hate ultimatums! Fine! Everyone, get into your positions as Robin said!"

We run to the forest, each group to their own side. Not seconds later, the Risen appear, ambling down the road. It's strange to see them when they're not attacking something. They move in an unsettling manner, hobbling but clearly dexterous enough to be threatening. Their eyes are soulless red pits, glowing with something that isn't life but isn't death either. It's a catatonic limbo, an existence in name alone, their purpose to sow destruction without remorse or thought—cruel apathy, puppets of Grima.

Someone taps my shoulder. I jump slightly. Fucking nerves. "Michael," Robin says, their voice low. "Under no circumstance do I want you dueling out there. Just try to land a solid blow and then bolt. You can't help anyone if you're dead. Don't try to do more than you're capable of. If something goes wrong, just run. This plan doesn't work if we end up needing to save you." Their face is beyond serious. Robin is under no illusion that I can hold my own. I'm here to be a warm body in the fray—anything else is a liability. I nod in understanding. Robin smiles grimly, focusing on the incoming Risen.

My breath hitches as the Risen cross between our two groups. Robin gives the signal, a spark from their thunder tome. I raise my sword, ready to charge.

Please don't die, Mike.

Author's Note: Wow, it's been a while, everyone. First, I'd like to apologize for disappearing and making it look like I'd abandoned this story. I love this story too much to leave it unfinished. But the last few months have been especially difficult for me on a personal level. Physically and mentally. I suppose this is as good a time as any to mention that I have cancer. Had it for a while now, since before I even started this fic. It's been a really tough battle that's put me in the hospital multiple times. But I'm still kicking. According to the doctors, the cancer is in remission (for real this time). I'm feeling stronger every day. So enough of this mopey crap! I have reviews to respond to!

Hammerschlag- Hope you haven't forgotten about this story! I appreciate your reviews greatly, and am quite pleased you like the developments with Freya and Mike. Really hope you read and enjoy this chapter!

Ultimate Black Ace- I'm glad you mention Mike's failings here. I wanted him to lose some points, as you say. So far, Mike hasn't really had to face true consequences. Perhaps in the future he'll suffer a bit…

OriksGaming- Well, thank you so much for risking it and reading! The gender-bender element was the only idea I had when I first starting writing the story, since FE seriously doesn't like any GB fics. Or at least popular ones. But I knew I'd need to produce more reasons to read than just that. So, I'm happy you seem to have found them!

Guest- Yeah, the CPR might have been a tad dramatic. Though, I just felt there needed to be a catalytic moment.

Tiberiuas- As I said to Ultimate Black Ace, you're right about Mike. The way he acted around Sumner was annoying. But don't worry—he's got some growing up in store!

Clutchvm- Mike may or may not want a slice of Chrom pie.

Caellach Tiger Eye- Woah, huge thank you for the detailed review! And sorry to leave you hanging this long! About the SpotPass chapters… It's more like I'm ignoring them as playable characters, not the backstories provided (though the events, like the surviving of deaths, are non-canon for me). The gender-bending does have a reason, but it won't be revealed just yet. Now, as for the way I name the characters, it's probably obviously that they all begin with the same first three letters of their original name. But the names also reflect what I believe suits them best as a character. And funny you should mention Lucina's name… it might break the trend a bit when we finally hear it. Again, thanks so much for your awesome review!

Serendipitous- Your reviews have been a blessing! But since you've been reviewing as a guest, I do really hope you manage to find this story again. I'd hate to lose you as a reader.