Chapter XVI: Skybound

I'd like to say things returned to some semblance of normalcy after my duel with Dergus. I'd like to say I forgot all about that unsavory affair. I'd like to say driving a sword through a man's chest, even one like Dergus, didn't affect me in the slightest.

Of course, those would be lies.

I killed someone. I will never be the same again. It's easy to be melodramatic, to go through the self-important tragedy of lost innocence. That's bullshit, though. In reality, you wake up and realize you're just glad you killed them before they killed you. The revelation of knowing you'd do it all again without hesitation is the moment you change. I decided Dergus was worth less than me, that I deserved to live more. It's hard not to feel like an animal when taking a life feels right.

Over the last week, I've tried convincing myself I did the world a favor. Dergus was a sexist, egotistical bastard, after all. Inside, however, I know Dergus was someone's son. Brother. Friend. There are people who grieve his loss. Above all, I cannot forget his eyes. I see them when I close my own. His gray irises, their protruding surprise, the tremor of comprehension, the fear—I see the end mirrored there, the descent into a sunless place where one's final moments are inescapably alone. How is it possible to regret nothing while also wishing none of it ever happened?

It doesn't help that the Shepherds are all off training for the tournament, leaving me to stew by my lonesome. They're so busy that Chrom hasn't even given me any jobs or chores. We established early on that I would not be taking part in the competition, and now that my duel is finished, the Shepherds seem content to let me recuperate in peace. Freya still teaches me in the mornings, but she joins the others immediately after, bidding simply a cordial farewell. Aside from that, I have limited communication with the Shepherds.

Sometimes, like now, I settle for watching them spar and working on carving my new wooden sword. As usual, Vaiva and Sullivan pair up and spend just as much time bickering as they do smacking each other around. Stana and Sumner square off, the former shooting brief glances at Sullivan and his brash antics, her expression mildly exasperated. Only when Sumner bops her on the head with his lance shaft does she focus her attention on practicing. Virginie fires at a target, nearly all her arrows landing within the center ring. Miro sits in a corner reading, though several balls of fire float in orbit around him. I don't see Kelda. Not that she isn't here. I'm sure she is… somewhere. Finally, Chrom and Freya trade blows, the two of them in a league of their own. Freya possesses more skill, more experience and refinement, but Chrom surpasses her in raw talent. My fingers go lax on my knife as I track Chrom's movements. She's like a lioness, confident and poised and brimming with strength. Her brows furrow in concentration, and a faint pink tints her cheeks. And those eyes, ignited with blue flame, a passion to put anyone to shame. Chrom is so… so…

I look down, my face burning. What the hell am I thinking?

"Sis sure is amazing, isn't she?" Liston plops beside me, propping his chin on his palms. "Don't worry, Mike; your secret's safe with me."

A fluttering fills my stomach. "I-I don't have… You're crazy," I splutter.

He chuckles. "I'm just joshing you, Mike!" The prince grins. "Unless, of course, you do like my sister..."

I scoff, turning away. "Yeah, right. Chrom is our leader. And Freya would kill me anyways."

"Y'know, Mike," Liston says in a lofty tone. "Marriage between commoners and royalty isn't forbidden in Ylisse."

"You're impossible." I sigh, pointing a finger at Chrom. "Does she look like someone who would fall for a guy like me? Hypothetically speaking."

Liston shrugs. "Chrom's never had much time for boys. Doesn't stop all the suitors, though… Doncha think you'll miss your chance if you wait, Mike?" He stares at me with innocent eyes that are anything but.

"Stop it," I say, glaring. "Shouldn't you be doing something useful? Not teasing me about pointless crap?

"Boo… Buzzkill." His face morphs, becoming somber. "I thought you might need some cheering up. You've been keeping to yourself, Mike."

I scowl. "Your idea of 'cheering up' is pestering me?"

"Well," he begins, "I thought you might wanna talk."

This sounds suspiciously like a roundabout segue into a therapy session. "About what? I'm fine, Liston."

He gives me a small smile. "You don't need to lie to me, Mike," he says quietly. "I know it isn't easy… The duel…"

"What do you know?" I snap, red emotion boiling up from hidden depths. "You're just a healer. All you do is wave that staff around."

Liston recoils, his hands balling on his knees. "I am just a healer, you're right," he says. "But that means I know some wounds can't be healed with a staff." His eyes flicker down. "They told me my mom was a healer, too. That she was kind and helped everyone she could. Like Emm… I want to be like them. Let me help you, Mike."

My insides twist. Liston is so pure. What a cinnamon roll. Why am I such an asshole? "I'm sorry. I'm not fine. I don't know how I feel. But I don't think there's anything you can do. I'll get over it eventually, I guess."

His shoulders sag. "If you won't talk to me, at least talk to Chrom," he insists. "She's worried, too. And… she knows what it's like."

"She has better things to do than coddle me."

"Please talk to her. Promise me." He holds out his hand, pinky finger extended. "We're your friends."

I study his hand for a second. Is it wrong to let them help me? I don't want to be an even greater burden. But maybe I'm a burden if I don't accept. Liston's puppy eyes break me in the end. "Alright. I promise. Persistent twerp," I say, curling my pinky around Liston's.

He flashes a dazzling set of white teeth, tiny dimples creating divots in his cheeks. "Thanks, Mike. It's not good to keep everything all bottled up." The serious countenance he had just before vanishes, the mercurial glint back in his sly gaze. "You might gain some love points with Chrom, too."

Shoving him slightly, I roll my eyes at Liston. "I said to stop that," I say. "You're her brother. Aren't you supposed to hate anyone who tries to flirt with her?"

"I can think of a lot worse options," he says, standing and leaning on his staff. "You've even already kissed." Reflexively, I peer at Chrom, who's shaking hands with Freya as they wrap up.

God, this kid. "That was a special circumstance. We're just friends, Liston. Go annoy Sumner about it. He needs the confidence boost."

Liston drums his fingers on the staff's orb. "I have. He just stutters and blushes. Your reaction is a lot more fun. All the denial and grumpiness. Almost a fun as Robin and the frogs..." He juts out his chin, as if wistful about something far more meaningful than pranks.

"Why don't you focus on your own love life instead of meddling with other people's?"

A great stream of air flows from his lips. "What love life?" Smells like teen angst.

I am not giving romantic advice to a sixteen-year-old. "Just be patient," I say absently, hoping to divert the topic to something else.

He sits down again next to me, suddenly dejected. Please no. Don't do this to me. "But how long does it take? Emm and Chrom barely let me do anything. I only just got to join the Shepherds. Girls don't notice me."

Why? Why is this happening? "Er, hang in there," I offer, subtly inching away. If I can just slip away and cite some passable excuse...

"Sullivan has a fan club!" Liston throws his arms up, totally ignoring me. "A fan club! I should learn to use an axe. That's cool, right? What do girls like? I'm princely enough, aren't I? You know, right, Mike? I can't ask my sisters about this… And Marius just tells me that I'm perfect already… No way am I asking Freya either." He shudders.

I rub my eyes, cursing this turn of events. And I thought Lissa was a handful. "Listen. If you have to change who you are, then it's not worth it. You're young. Don't stress about this stuff… There are plenty of girls who would like you." No one should ever hire me as a youth counselor. Didn't Liston come here to comfort me, anyways?

"But Mike," he whines, "how do I make myself more appealing?"

Do I look like the right guy for that question? Freya kicks my ass everyday. "I already said you don't need to change. Just be yourself," I say wearily. "Liston, trust me on this. You're not the type of person who needs to reinvent himself. I would know."

Liston stares, lower lip puffed out. "Being the youngest in the family really sucks." He fiddles with his vest and pulls at the sleeves of his doublet. "Emm and Chrom are a lot to live up to. And I never knew my parents..."

It hits me that Liston has lived his whole life without a male role model. Growing up without a mother or father, no brothers either—that's rough. My dad was probably my best friend as a kid. Playing video games together, teaching me how to wall jump in Super Metroid. Encouraging me when I couldn't beat bosses in The Legend of Zelda. Hell, he even made Dr. Mario seem riveting. It wasn't just video games either. I never met anyone who knew more about Middle Earth or Star Wars. All these interests are nerdy, sure, but he gave me support as I got older. He told me to pursue my dreams. When I lost my school's geography bee to some douchebag who's favorite pastime was bragging about his IQ, Dad taught me himself to beat him the next year. And I did. He was my hero.

Liston never had any of that. I reach out and place my hand on his upper back. "I don't know if anyone's ever told you this, but you don't need to prove anything to anybody, Liston," I say, meeting his eyes. "You have more heart than any of us. Just be the man you want to be, not the one you think you should be."

He sniffs, rolling his staff in his hands. "You're just saying that."

"I'm not. Are you flawless? No. I don't claim to be an expert on life; we both know I barely have a clue. But I do know the Liston in front of me makes everything around him brighter. The Shepherds wouldn't be the same without you. And if some girl can't see that, then that's her loss."

"Well said."

Liston and I look up to see Chrom, a sheen of sweat coating her face. Warm, needling pinpricks bubble along my chest. How much of the pep talk did she hear?

"Michael is correct, Liston," Chrom says, adopting a maternal tone. "Why, there are plenty of court ladies who'd love to be the subject of your affection."

"Ugh… Chrom, don't." Liston attempts to hide his face while bustling away, though he does throw me a glance. "Don't forget your promise!" Teenagers. How did I ever make it through those years?

Chrom watches him go, frowning. "Did I say something wrong?" she asks, brows furrowed. "I only spoke the truth."

I shake my head. "No, I think it has more to do with the fact it came from you specifically. You're his big sister and the last person he wants to hear about his lady troubles."

"I see," she says musingly, dabbing her skin with a rag. "Anyways, you made a promise with Liston?"

I would almost rather talk Liston through the woes of adolescence again than this. But a promise is a promise. "Yeah," I grumble. "I didn't have much choice in the matter."

She laughs, her hair bouncing slightly as she does. "My brother can be rather tenacious when he wants to be." Chrom crouches in front of me, wearing an expectant expression. "Well, what was it? The promise."

Taking a deep breath, I brace for the assuredly wonderful conversation ahead. "So… You might have noticed I've been a little distant since… you know." The obligatory small talk with the dentist is less awkward.

Chrom's lips tilt upwards. "I might have, yes. Go on."

"Look, I don't wanna make a big deal out of this, OK? I've just been trying to sort my feelings. I've never… killed someone before." Saying the words aloud hurts, like I'm spitting blood.

"So," Chrom ventures. "Liston made you promise to speak with me? I cannot lie that I haven't been concerned. And I apologize for not being more available." She offers her hand. "Come. Let's go for a walk."

I let her help me up, and we set off at a meandering pace. She matches me step for step as our path takes us into the gardens of Castle Ferox. Despite the inhospitable climate, the courtyard hosts a bountiful variety of flowers and trees. Yellows, oranges, and reds decorate the walkways, and an aesthetically pleasing moss fills gaps in the cobblestone. Miro explained a few days ago that the plants are kept healthy by a heating spell encasing the area. He seemed keen on unlocking its inner mechanism for purposes he chose not to clarify. At any rate, the result is a temperate paradise in the midst of a tundra. Even if it's only a miniature Eden, the effect is no less beautiful.

Chrom pauses under the shady canopy generated by a tall elm. I've been waiting for her to speak for a while, unsure of what to say myself. The princess fixes her piercing blue eyes on me. "I was seventeen when I first took a life. That was three years ago," she says quietly. "I still remember it as if it was yesterday."

Christ. No seventeen-year-old should have to go through that. I know kids are joining the Army around that age, but that shit is fucked up. Can't even order a drink at a bar. I don't reply to Chrom, sensing she'll continue regardless.

"Emm had just given me permission to form the Shepherds. Bandits and ruffians were terrorizing our villages, and something needed to be done. Ylisse doesn't have a traditional army outside the royal guard." Chrom makes a face, somewhat strained. "I began fencing lessons as a child. Falchion has been mine almost from the time I could lift it. So, naturally, I felt ready for anything."

I'm not particularly fond of the dark look clouding her features. "What then?" I prompt, mouth dry.

Chrom adjusts her weight from one foot to the other. Her palm grinds against Falchion's pommel, a tick I've noticed of Chrom's. "Back then, the Shepherds were only Freya, Sullivan, and myself. Our first mission was investigating reports of bandits coming down from the Eastern Mountains to loot mining settlements." Her nails scrape across Falchion. "It was horrible. When we arrived, little remained. They had killed all the men, and the women and children were… were..."

There's no reason for her to relive this. "You don't need to describe it. I was in Southtown, remember?" I say coaxingly.

"No. This was different. Let me finish." A simmering anger underlies her words, coupled with profound sorrow. "What they did to those people, my people, was unspeakable. Seeing what girls hardly younger than myself had been reduced to… I couldn't control my rage. I slew the first brigand I saw. He was my age. And he died afraid, whimpering."

I recall the gurgling noise Dergus made as he died, that sickening rasp of failing lungs. "I'm sorry, Chrom."

"Every one of those cravens deserved their fate," she says, though her tone turns gentle. "But sometimes even when one deserves death, we are not prepared to be the arbiters of that justice."

Did Dergus deserve to die? Nothing is that black and white. "What do I do now? Chrom… it keeps replaying in my mind." Hearing the story, the thickness of her voice, I need to confide in her. "I don't understand how to feel."

She moves closer. "You keep living, Michael. That's all," Chrom says. "You won't ever forget. You wouldn't be human if you did. It gets easier to accept, though. I wish this world didn't have so much evil in it. But it does, and all we can do is try to do the right thing."

No one gives Chrom enough credit for being wise beyond her years. I guess it comes with the territory of ruling a country. Maybe it's the charisma as well. "I'm not sure I'm very good at doing the right thing."

"You're better than you think you are," she assures me. "You did what you had to. No one can fault you for that. Michael, you protected yourself."

I suppose there is no simple answer, no magic phrase that will absolve me of all negative emotion. We tend to seek out instant gratification and validation. That's why alcohol is popular, yeah? It's easier to slap a Band-Aid on something than deal with the real ramifications. Chrom is right. Keep living. Keep striving for more. I won't forget, can't bury the problem in a time capsule, but I can learn from it. I'm not OK; that's normal because one day I will be.

Chrom appraises me, her eyes tracking the thoughts written on my face. "I have an idea," she says, leaning against the elm. "You might find it intriguing."

Normally, Chrom isn't coy. And that makes me wary. "Will I like it?"

"I think so." She clears her throat as if about to give me her elevator pitch. "Freya informs me that you're making decent progress in your training. And while you got extremely lucky against Dergus, you did hold your own. As Shepherds, we deal with all sorts of dangerous situations. I'll be blunt, Michael; you need to pull your weight."

As usual, the princess doesn't waste time on tact. It's true; a couple wooden swords and nearly dying in a duel is not an achievement. I'm here because Chrom believes in me, more than I have any right to. Whatever she wants, I'll do my best to comply. "What do you have in mind?"

"When we fought Raimi at the Longfort, you rode a pegasus without prior knowledge," she explains, a glean akin to pride in her eyes. "Honestly, that's impressive. I know you said the pegasus flew itself, but not just anyone can do that. You are not a skilled fighter. Yet. But we can always use another pegasus rider. Thanks to Sumner, we happen to have an extra pegasus as well."

My mouth gapes, and I experience a surge of reluctance. Me? A pegasus rider? Surely, there are more worthy candidates. "What about the training equipment?" I protest.

The princess dismisses the objection with a casual shrug. "Nothing is stopping you from doing both. We all have multiple duties," she says, smiling wryly. "An airborne unit provides invaluable reconnaissance and assists in flanking the enemy. Pegasi are light, agile, and fast. They're suited to support roles. I can't think of a better niche for you, Michael."

I never saw this coming. Chrom seems set on the notion, however. I conjure a few gruesome images of falling to my death or being perforated by arrows before mustering the ability to nod. If this means serving a useful purpose in the Shepherds, I have no basis for complaints. "You really think I can be a pegasus rider?" The incredulity still taints my words.

"This is the best thing for you right now." She pats my shoulder. "I wouldn't recommend this if you weren't capable. I didn't come up with the idea out of nowhere. Even Freya agrees."

While I'm hesitant and anxious, I admit the thought of zipping through the sky on a mythical horse is pretty badass. Beats feeling confused and distressed about Dergus. "I'll do it," I say. "But how will I learn?"

Her smile widens into an ear-to-ear grin infectious enough to extort one from me. "Sumner has already agreed to teach you the basics. He isn't on the roster for the tournament, so that shouldn't be an issue either." Chrom, you sly fox. I bumbled right into your trap. "When we return to Ylisse, Phila's Air Corps will finish your training. In addition to your lessons with Freya of course."

Moments like this are when I curse my memory loss. Something about Phila and those pegasus knights drifts tauntingly away in wispy tendrils. There's a name too, starts with a C or K… The chiseling pain in my head hampers further digging. Important or not, I don't know. "You have it all figured out," I say, folding my arms. "I never pegged you for conniving, Chrom."

Chrom's laugh, unabashed and earnest, rings throughout the garden. "I merely took initiative. It appears I was not wrong to do so." Her chuckles taper into breathy sighs, and she gazes at me with abrupt intensity. "You've only been with us a little over a month. Some accuse me of trusting too quickly and wholly, but I need just a glimpse to know. Despite your mishaps, I want you to understand how much I prize your presence. I've been angry with you, yes. But I'm alive because of you. I have faith in you, Michael. So, no matter how you think of yourself, know that I see your good heart."

I'm aware of the flaming blush on my cheeks, the electric embarrassment paralyzing me. I can't contain it. Chrom is too kind. I might implode if I stay in her vicinity any longer. "I… Um… Thank you." Coherent sentences, Mike. "I should probably look for Sumner… Start my training as soon as possible." Or spontaneously combust.

Her lips part, a perturbed amusement washing over her face. "I believe he's done sparring. He heads to the stables after that," Chrom says, cocking her head. "Are you alright?" Oh, sure. It's not like you didn't just toss me off the feels cliff.

"I'm f-fine!" I blubber. "Good talk and all that. I'll catch you on the flip side, Chrom." Really? Catch you on the flip side? Seriously? Is this 1995? Are you wearing jorts with socks and sandals, Mike? I flee past her, head down.

I hear Chrom utter a befuddled goodbye as I escape. Hopefully, her penchant for obliviousness works in my favor. Christ, who tells someone stuff like that without batting an eye? Chrom, apparently. My legs work overtime to put distance between us, as if that passionate, fervent gaze of hers cannot follow me the farther I go. In the shadowed corners of my subconscious, I know why I'm running. It isn't just the inundating warmth of Chrom's praise or the sweet melody of her words. It's because Chrom said those words. Gorgeous, lovely, brave, and noble Chrom. I swallowed these feelings for Sumner's sake. What do they matter when compared to someone who's known her much longer than I? But affection doesn't just evaporate. It grows. And when you see the subject of that affection day after day, the cloying at your heart amplifying—it hurts. How could I not fall for Chrom when she treats me as twice the man I am?

The temperature drops, and I shiver. I must have gone far enough to leave the magical barrier protecting the garden. Though Sumner is perhaps not the ideal person to take my mind off Chrom, soaring across the sky on a pegasus might. The Khan's stables are near, and it's only a few minutes until I reach them. Like everything else in Regna Ferox, the stables strike an imposing sight. Hewn from a granite bluff, they spread in a curved arc as a series of stone archways leading inside. A sculpted stampede of horses gallops across the face of the bluff, each rocky steed adorned with a shimmering ruby eye. An artificial pasture accompanies the structure, a few stallions grazing under the supervision of stablehands.

Upon entering, the pungent odor of horses and dung greets me. No matter how fancy the stable, it will always smell like shit. Aside from the stench, however, the interior boasts a handsome array of colts and fillies. Older horses occupy their own section, with studs having particularly spacious stalls. I don't see any pregnant mares, so the stablemaster must keep them sequestered elsewhere.

After several minutes of idle wandering, I spot Sumner beside a pair of stalls, each housing a white pegasus. I recognize the one I rode by her dappled neck, blotches of gray disrupting the white. Which means the other pegasus must be the one Sumner nursed along the Northroad. The pegasus I flew whinnies at my approach, and Sumner spins.

"Michael!" he calls, gesturing for me to join him. "I didn't expect to see you here today! I assume the Captain sent you?"

I rub the back of my neck. "More or less." I eye him. "So, you really agreed to teach me how to fly one of these?"

Sumner nods vigorously. "I think it's a splendid idea! You showed a natural talent back at the Longfort." He dons an innocent grin. "And it's been a while since I flew with a partner. Cornelius was so busy before we left, after all."

Should I know who Cornelius is? I really feel like I should. "Cornelius?"

"We trained together under Phila. Cornelius is… Well, he's finest pegasus knight I've ever seen. No one compares, honestly." Sumner speaks with complete admiration rather than envy.

It's futile; Cornelius sounds familiar, but I only draw a blank and a headache dwelling on him. "He seems like a good friend to you."

"The very best," he says. Sumner strokes the rescued pegasus' snout. "Now, shall I tell you the first rule of the pegasus knights?"

"Lay it on me."

His fingers brush the pegasus in soothing lines. "First, I must ask you a question." He looks about as stern as a person like Sumner can manage. "What is a pegasus to you?"

Other than a fantasy creature? "A winged horse?"

Sumner's eye twitches. "Pegasi are not horses, Michael. They only look like them. Pegasi are much more intelligent and intuitive animals. They can even sense their rider's emotions." He glides over to the other one. "A pegasus is their rider's ally, friend, and companion. They are more than mounts."

I glare at the pegasus. "So, what you mean is she knew I was about to shit myself and still dive-bombed Virginie and me into the ground?" The pegasus shakes her mane. Ornery little…

"Each pegasus has their own personality. She's spunkier than most," Sumner says warmly. "Phila lent her to me for practice. She and I get on well, but I don't have my own pegasus. Or, at least I didn't." He turns to the second pegasus.

"Then whose is she?" I point at my animal nemesis.

Sumner sighs. "No one's. Pegasi without riders usually get passed around between cadets until they graduate. She doesn't even have a name. When a rider meets their match, they name the pegasus. The partnership is for life."

How… sad. Even an obnoxious pegasus like her probably feels lonely. "Nobody claimed her? What did you name the one you saved? If that's your pegasus now."

"Esther, after the queen of legend." As in Bible Esther? Another biblical reference? What the fuck? I wish I remembered what Esther did exactly.

Maybe I can pry it out of Sumner. "Why Esther?" I ask.

Sumner smiles pensively at her. "I aided her when she was wounded. Esther in the tale saved her people when they were in need. It felt appropriate."

That's vague. I can't outright ask about a story I'm supposed to know. But I think Esther married some Persian dude? And then for some reason the Jews were going to be exterminated? There was definitely an asshole adviser in there somewhere too. For once, I'm regretting not being religious.

"You should name her." Sumner interrupts my troubled thoughts.

I blink a few times. "Huh?"

He's inclining his head towards the pegasus I flew. "You have a connection with her."

"Woah, slow down there, bud. Isn't that premature?" It's as if I'm rushing into a marriage.

"Not at all! She wouldn't have let you ride her so quickly if you didn't share an innate bond. Look at her eyes. You'll feel it," he insists.

"I'm pretty sure she just wanted to help me warn everyone," I say doubtfully. Sumner is unfazed, so I humor him. The pegasus stares back, big brown eyes boring into mine. Something stirs within me, and I can't tear my gaze away. Magic? Pegasus magic? She presses her muzzle to my forehead. Damn. I guess you do like me, you crazy beast.

"See?" Sumner says. "A rider and their pegasus always know."

Well, shit, Sumner. I can't ignore that. "What… What do I call her?"

"Her name is for you alone to decide."

For several minutes, I attempt to choose a fitting name. Most are awful, like Wanda or Pearl. Eventually, I elect to just continue the staring contest we had before, praying to discover the answer in her eyes. A name rises to the forefront, and I know it's the one. There's a familiarity I can't place.

"Fury," I say decisively. "That's her name. Fury."

The newly anointed "Fury" neighs and headbutts me, more of a soft bunt in actuality. I'll take that as approval. Sumner excitedly encroaches into my vision. "What a wonderful name!" he exclaims. "Have you read The Ribald Tales of the Faith War as well, Michael? I assumed you did know how… Erm, that is… Ah, anyways, Lady Fury was an exemplary pegasus knight! Oh, but you that know already. Look at me, blathering on like an old fool." He scratches his cheek sheepishly.

I am supposed to be a villager from bumfuck nowhere, aren't I? Of course, I have no idea what the hell this book is, but Fury is a character, I presume. And a pegasus knight, too? That kind of coincidence doesn't just happen. My memory loss… it's fucking with me again. Is this Faith War thing another Fire Emblem game? Yesterday, I might have known. At any rate, I have to respond.

"No… There weren't any books in my village," I say. "I just heard someone talk about Fury once. You're right, by the way… I can't read, Sumner."

The lie becomes especially difficult to bear seeing his crestfallen expression. "That's a shame… I love to read. Though, I am more privileged than many. Perhaps I can school you on your letters?" He taps his heel on the ground. "There's no shame it, you know. We cannot help the circumstances of our birth."

"Why don't we deal with flying pegasi for now?" I suggest, diverting the topic. "That's a bit more pressing." Not to mention I likely enjoy books just as much as you, Sumner.

To my relief, he relents. "Then let us saddle them and begin. We'll return to your letters another day." Or not, Sumner. You really don't have to.

Trips to my grandparents' farm pay off—Sumner notes his satisfaction with how well I saddle Fury, though he guides me through the special alterations required for pegasi. A rider on a pegasus sits directly between the wings, their legs fitting into the stirrups in front of the wingbone. The saddle accommodates the wings by separating along the side and refastening underneath. But due to the wings, the rider's natural position is lurched forward, almost like a competitive jockey. To protect the rider during flight, they wear a harness to avoid plummeting should they be unseated. The overall skill threshold far exceeds riding a normal horse, even while grounded.

As such, Sumner and I trot along outside in the pasture for some time so I can adjust to the anatomy of a pegasus. Fury proves obedient for the most part—she likes unfurling her wings to slap my face with the feathers. I pull on the reins when she does, but Fury nickers in what must be a pegasus' version of a mocking laugh. Nevertheless, once in the air, albeit at a low altitude canter, she reverts to all business. Sumner instructs that the key to balanced flight is sustaining a ninety degree angle with the ground, meaning the pegasus' hooves are level. Various maneuvers that involve banking or swooping disregard this rule, but a novice like myself should prioritize stability.

We're about ten feet up, and it's still astounding. Flying in an airplane is one thing; Fury is another. Speed and height don't matter. The exhilarating awe and fear of riding a gravity defying creature like Fury supersedes all else. Physiologically speaking, Fury shouldn't be able to fly. I ask Sumner how it's possible. He runs his hand on the underside of Esther's wing, stating pegasi have a gland that ejects a propellant of some kind that isn't fully researched. All I do is marvel at Fury. No animal on Earth, past or present, can challenge the majesty of a pegasus.

For the next week leading up to the tournament, I develop a routine of Freya's lessons in the mornings and Sumner's in the afternoons. Chrom and I exchange words on a couple occasions during that period. Neither of us brings up my awkward departure. With Ylisse's alliance to Regna Ferox hanging overhead, Chrom's temperament dampens on the hour. We all feel the pressure but none so much as Chrom. At breakfast the day of the tournament, she doesn't eat, instead glaring into space with Falchion flat on her lap.

The Shepherds travel to the Arena Ferox as a group, Khan Flavius' retinue leading the way. From over a mile out, the roaring of the crowd within drowns even my own footsteps. Mobs of people flood the streets, the scent of beer and spiced meat heavy on the breeze. Pulsating energy infiltrates my bones, the spirit of a people defined by battle and blade and glory. Gongs blare. Dirges and war hymns vibrate the stone. Regna Ferox lusts for spectacle, for the ascendancy of East or West.

We enter the Arena and descend a staircase into the bowels of this behemoth. After a certain point, only our designated fighters—Chrom, Freya, Sullivan, Vaiva, and Robin—are allowed deeper. The tournament is a five versus five clash that goes on until one side is entirely defeated or yields. Killing opponents is permitted, though executing one who surrenders automatically forfeits the tournament.

One of Khan Flavius' men escorts the rest of us to the Khan's personal viewing area. It borders the West Khan's seating, with the thrones of each almost touching. The multi-layered tiers of regular audience members divide evenly from our location, Khan Flavius' supporters a sea of maroon and white, the West Khan's gold and black. The Khans themselves greet each other with a brisk handshake and fiery scowls. The West Khan stands roughly a head taller than Flavius, her frame robust for a woman. Dark skin complements her milky fur cape and golden armor. She's shaved her head as well and wears an eyepatch not unlike a pirate. Judging from the chants on her side, her name seems to be Basilia. Like Flavius, she looks like someone not to fuck with.

The prelude to the main event presents as a hush just before a wizened elder lifts his arms high in the center of the arena floor, its spiraling sun insignia fanning around him.

"Men and women of Regna Ferox," he booms, the baritone of his voice echoing throughout the hollow amphitheater. "Today is our most sacred of days. Today, we honor the founders of our nation, who tilled the soil and tamed the wilderness. Today, we honor our ancestors, who fought and bled for the Feroxi way of life. Today, we honor the Khans, one of whom will reign supreme as the sun sets below the western sea. Today, brothers and sisters, we fight!"

I'm forced to plug my ears at the decibel shattering cheer. "Behold, the champions!" Chrom and the others emerge from a tunnel opposite us. The West Khan's warriors do the same, coming from directly below instead. My gut knots. This is it.

Leaning over the railing, I gain a clearer view of our enemies. An austere woman with East Asian features spearheads them in V formation. Long, dark brown, almost black hair frames almond eyes. She fingers her katana.

I cannot explain it, but something is terribly wrong.

Author's Note: Before anything else, here's another reminder to please vote in the poll on my profile. I will try to commission some art for the winner of "best gurl." There will be more polls in the future as the cast is expanded. However, after this poll, we'll do the first "best boi" voting.

Also, please check out the new FE fanfiction subbreddit at r/FireEmblemFanfiction!

Alrighty. We're finally to the tournament! Next chapter will be filled with lots of action and drama! This one, however, was necessary for buildup and to introduce some more interesting developments (pegasus knight Mike anyone?). Michael can't just sit around and be a useless potato anymore. Hopefully, he doesn't fall off his pegasus and die… Oh, wait, there's a harness!

A note about Mike's pegasus: Some of you may know that "Fury" is the transliteration into English from Japanese of a playable pegasus knight featured in Genealogy of the Holy War, the fourth FE game. She's a major character and the canonical wife of Lewyn. There is, however, some debate over her name. The most recent fan translation refers to her as "Erin," which is a shortened form of Erinys, which is the singular form of the Greek goddesses of vengeance, also know as the "Furies," which is where the Japanese name of the character comes from. The fan translation decided to give her a name like Erin because it still holds the same connotations but sounds more like a reasonable name. The Japanese katakana for her name is フュリー which romanized looks like Fyurii. That is essentially the word "Fury" in English. So, that's why I'm using this name. It's also badass. Nintendo of Japan did transliterate her name into English as "Ferry" for the trading card game, but that is actually erroneous due to the team not speaking English.

I apologize for that ridiculously long explanation, but hopefully that made sense. As always, thank you all so much for reading my story! We surpassed 100 in favorites, follows, and reviews last chapter. I cannot express my gratitude enough. It means the world to me that you support this fic. And again, huge thanks to ThreeDollarBratwurst for betaing. These chapters are better because of you!

Review responses!

Yexius- Thank you for all the reviews you've given me. And I do hope Chrom's screen time here was to your liking!

Geust- I appreciate all the praise. Honestly, I never thought anyone would even read this thing.

Aaronperla- Indeed. Dergus is d-e-d. RIP

Caellach Tiger Eye- Once again, you've left me speechless with a thorough and detailed review. I'm very glad this story continues to impress and deliver. The last two chapters were perhaps the most difficult to write (the Freya POV was extremely tough) in the entire story so far. It puts a smile on my face to know that I succeeded in presenting a complicated and engaging relationship between Michael and Freya. This story is about the characters, and those two chapters were meant to bring them just a little more to life. I sent you a PM a while back and hope you're well!

ThreeDollarBratwusrt- Is there anything I can say that I haven't said before? You've definitely made this whole process more enjoyable than it would have been without you.

Serendipitous- Happy accidents are always a welcome surprise. If my story can be one for you, then that's wonderful. I hope this chapter offered some of the character interactions you'd been craving? Of course, Kelda still hasn't had much limelight, but someday she'll get to shine. I have plans for all the Shepherds to have time in the sun. It made TDB and myself very happy to see you list our stories as part of your "triumvirate." And here I am still amazed people like this thing.

Shizu23- It's great the chapter kept you on pins and needles! There's more to come for sure!

AscendedHumanity- As is my policy, I can neither confirm or deny. :)

Mixed Valence- The POV change was risk I felt like I needed to take in order to achieve something that Michael's viewpoint couldn't; I'm overjoyed that it apparently worked! Freya is one of my favorite characters in this story, and writing her is a delight. Knowing she's well-received is good for my soul. Also, I'm working on reviewing Earthborne, so keep an eye out!

RequiemAnon- If I'm being completely honest, Freya's words to Michael after training is my favorite scene in the entire story. I'm genuinely proud of it. And yeah, I'm a girl lol. Surprise?

Rileva- Don't feel awkward! I really loved your review. Ironically, you ended up praising me for all those things in a roundabout way. Reading that this is one of your all time favorites just floors me. I'm seriously thankful for that. Never did I ever expect this story to be considered in that light. Thank you so much. And yeah, Freya is probably the most complex character in the story. I love her!