A/N: Bit of a delay on this chapter. The next chapter will be similarly delayed (expect maybe 1 update over ~4 weeks). After that, my update rate should normalize.
I'm trying to control chapter length and failing miserably. I'll make future chapters shorter, I swear.
As always, thanks for the feedback, favs, and follows, everyone!
When I awaken, Libra and the children are gone. There's a scrap of aged parchment at the door, with minuscule writing on it. It's a little too dark for me to read it, so I open the door to my temporary residence. Light fills the room.
Ess'ai,
I'm taking the children to see Father Bran, a priest in the service of Naga, to arrange better housing for them. I decided it would be best to let you sleep and recover from yesterday.
I'll be back before sunset. We can speak further then.
May Naga watch over you,
Libra
I walk outside and squint at the bright light. The commotion of a morning town fills the air. The sun hasn't reached its peak yet, and judging by what I've learned from the pirates, it isn't yet noon. I've got a long while before Libra returns.
I take a chug of Estus for breakfast, sighing in relief as the cool liquid soothes my quietly growling stomach. Then I take a walk outside.
My bloodied clothes don't gather too much attention as I stroll through the town, aiming for the coast. I can see the damage left in the wake of my shipmates' attack. A few houses are torched. Doors have been broken in, splotches of blood decorate the occasional wall, and sometimes I find arrows littering the streets. I'm quick to grab the few that I see, but most of them are broken.
Interestingly enough, they show up in my inventory.
Iron arrow (3): Supplementary arrows. Restores durability of an equipped "iron bow".
I guess they're worthless to me, since I can't use iron bows yet. Still, I may as well hoard them, since I'm not doing anything else with my inventory space.
I have 7 item slots instead of 5, likely to account for the fact that my Estus Flask and starting gift lock out 2 slots by default. Even with my bronze bow and these extra arrows, I still have 3 slots left over. My heal staff is nothing more than a staff of wood now. It doesn't even show up in my inventory.
I'm near the coast. I can hear the rush of water when a voice interrupts my thoughts.
"So ya came back, eh, craven?"
My head jerks up in faint recognition of the voice. Standing across from me is a villager with cloth bandages wrapped around his torso. He's holding his hands on his hips. "Thought you'd be long gone by now, pal," he continues.
"Er, do I know you?" I ask, discretely checking the man's character page under the pretense of rubbing my eyes.
Noah
Archer
LV: 12. EX: -.
HP: 20/24.
The name seems familiar. Oh, right. The kid that helped distract Garm in our fight last night shares the same name.
This Noah looks like he's in his early 30s. His eyes narrow. "Forgot already? I asked ya to help me fight with that bow of yours last night. Ya ran off like a coward."
Oh, that's right. I remember something like that happening right before I fought alongside Libra.
I shrug. "Sorry. If it makes you feel better, I ended up fighting like 10 minutes later, anyway."
Noah raises an eyebrow. "Tha' right, now?" he asks skeptically.
"Nah," I say, gesturing at my bloodied clothes. "I just decided to dunk my clothes in blood for the hell of it."
"Humph," Noah crosses his arms, but I sense his hostility decreasing. "Ya from around here?"
"No," I say. "And I've gotta say, you guys throw a hell of a welcoming party."
The man scowls. "Ain't the time fer jokes, pal. People are dead."
I raise my hands. "Sorry," I say, continuing my walk to the coastline. Noah falls in step beside me as I continue. "Didn't mean any offense."
"Where you headed now, then, stranger?" Noah probes.
I tsk as I take off my shirt. "To wash out some of the blood from these clothes."
Noah raises an eyebrow. "Gonna do that in the sea, then?"
I shrug. It's not like I have a choice. Noah looks like he's considering saying something, but then he shakes his head. "And after that?" he asks.
I shrug again. "I'm meetin' up with a monk, a… friend, I suppose. I'll probably end up followin' his lead."
Noah says nothing, waiting silently as I scrub my shirt in the cold water. Sea water is pretty bad for cleaning, and I don't have soap, but it's better than nothing.
It's hard to get blood out of clothes. I don't have too much to show for my efforts after the better part of several minutes, though I've discovered that spit helps the process along a little. Honestly, I've probably just worn down my simple white shirt.
The bloodstains seem fainter when I'm done. I think.
I sigh.
There's a sound from behind me. Noah seems to be amused with my lack of progress.
"What?" I snap, a little irritated.
"I'll tell ya what, stranger," Noah says, eyeing my abysmal work with my shirt. "Help me out a bit, and I'll ask my wife to help ya with yer clothes."
"Deal," I say instantly. I catch a brief upturn of Noah's mouth at my quick response. It could almost be called a smile. "Oh, right. My name's Ess'ai."
"Noah," the man answers. I already knew his name, but I nod anyway.
I follow Noah to his home and meet his wife, a demure, petite woman with lilac hair. Her character page identifies her as Rebecca. She doesn't blink at Noah's request to remove the bloodstains from my clothes, instead offering me some replacement clothing made of rather rough cotton.
I don it and get to helping Noah. There's plenty of work to do in light of a pirate raid, work that was neglected last night by tired townsfolk. I'm not the only man Noah recruits, either. Noah barks orders to ferry a whole bunch of products to where they're needed, from planks of wood to buckets of water to bundles of clothes. I spend a good hour helping a carpenter repair some particularly damaged doors.
The worst job of all is probably gathering and cremating the dead. I don't shy away from the work. I came with the crew that killed these townspeople. This is the least I can do.
"Here," a gruff voice interjects. A metal bowl is shoved underneath my nose, emitting a delicious aroma.
"Thanks," I say absently, taking the bowl. My eyes are still on the blazing pyre in the midst of town. Grieving widows watch the flames forlornly. "You didn't have to…"
"Didn't expect ya to help out for so long," Noah admits, sipping from his own bowl. It's a pretty hearty vegetable soup, with small flecks of fish. "Yer clothes have been done for a while."
I know that. It's probably been about 6 hours since I started helping Noah.
I was a vegetarian, back on Earth. I sip at the soup with only the slightest hesitation. "It's easy to work with everyone," I say honestly. "Everyone cooperates, even if they don't know me."
"We've learned," Noah says, voice low. "Ye think this is bad? Should've seen us a few years ago."
"Do these raid happen often, then?" I ask tentatively.
Noah spits. "Aye. Last night was the second one this year."
"Well, do we get any soldiers from the King to help fight off the pirates?" I ask.
Noah barks out a short laugh as an answer.
The rest of my evening is uneventful. I help out some more where I can, and return to Noah's place as the sun begins to fall. Rebecca performs some kind of miracle, as both my jeans and plain white shirt are completely restored when I get them back, with barely a mark of blood upon them.
"Verily," I say to her, completely serious, "thou art a goddess of cleanliness."
She giggles and Noah slaps me on the arm. "Alright," he growls. "Mind how ya talk to my wife."
We part amicably. I spend some time trying to find my way back to Libra's orphanage, but I don't really know my way around town too well, so I need to ask for directions.
The sun has nearly set when I find the orphanage again. Libra's standing at the entrance. His robes are blood-free, now, too.
"I hope I didn't keep you waiting long," I say as a way of greeting.
"Ah," Libra's head turns at the sound of my voice, and he waves at me. "Ess'ai. You read my note, then?"
I'd like to point out that Libra looks ridiculously pretty when the rays of the setting sun partially illuminate his face.
"I did," I confirm. "Although I'm wondering what you would've done if I couldn't read."
"I was sure you could," Libra says. His voice is gentle and confident. My eyebrow raises at his tone.
"You were sure?" I ask skeptically. A lot of people in this world can't read, from what I've seen so far. "Why's that?"
"Your accent," Libra answers.
Well, now I'm genuinely interested. "I don't follow," I admit.
"Your manner of speaking now is different than it was when we first met," Libra explains, glossing over the fact that we first met when I was fighting alongside pirates. "You're educated, and you were hiding it, right?"
I blink, and Libra smiles. That's right, Libra's canonically really sharp with details. "Or, we could just call it instinct for now and leave it be," he says.
"Right," I say. "So, what's up with the kids?"
Libra's smile turns a bit somber. "I was hoping to discuss that with you, actually. I have a favour to ask."
"So, there's no chance of them staying here?" I ask.
The sun has set. The wind blows softly, cool on my skin. Distant torches in the town provide faint light.
Libra shakes his head. "Unfortunately, the church of Naga is not well-loved here. We receive supplies intermittently from Ylisse, but with tensions rising between Ylisse and Plegia…"
It turns out that Libra came to this coastal town of Loa with another priest, Father Bran, with the intention of running an orphanage and spreading the word of Naga. Their experiment is effectively a failure. There's no lack of orphans, but almost everyone here worships or pretends to worship Grima. Without any local support in the way of donations, Libra is limited in what he can do.
"Yeah," I say. "I get it. I'm not sure where I come in, though."
"Security," Libra says simply. "Father Bran recommends – and I agree – that the best move now would be to take these children to the town of Galt, a few days due East."
"Few days walking, or by caravan?" I ask.
"By cart," Libra answers.
"Alright. Why Galt?"
"We have a single, well-established church in Galt," Libra says. "I admit it's small, but we have a stable presence there. And these children-"
"Need stability, yeah," I finish. "Um, just so that we've covered all our options, isn't there a local orphanage, perhaps one that's not affiliated with Naga, that you can leave these kids at?"
"No," Libra says, shaking his head regretfully. "That's one of the reasons we chose to try to open one up so far into Plegia. These people spend all of their efforts trying to defend themselves against pirate attacks, or recovering from raids. No one has the time to care for orphaned children."
"Fair enough," I say. "So, when do we leave?"
There's a moment of silence.
"… We'd be leaving tomorrow," Libra says eventually. "Ah, not that I'm complaining, but… well, I'm surprised you're agreeing so easily."
I shrug. It's a no-brainer to me. What better way is there to find the plot than to stick to a Shepherd? My gamer instincts are tingling, too. If the night-time raid of Loa could be considered Chapter 1 of my life here, then I'm sure this escort mission will end up being Chapter 2.
Although that brings up the question of whether or not someone or something is designing a plot for my life right now. I'm tentatively going to assume "yes". If something significant happens tomorrow, then I'll take that as more evidence that my life is being scripted.
"I'm more surprised you're willing to take my help," I retort. "What if I'm only going along with you so I can try to rob you later?"
"You wouldn't have helped me last night if that were the case," Libra points out instantly. "But I suppose it's possible. So, are you going to rob me later?"
"No," I answer honestly.
"Well, then," Libra says with finality. "I guess that takes care of that particular issue."
I laugh, and Libra joins me a second later.
"If I'm going to help you, Libra," I start. "There's something you should probably know."
Libra raises a hand. "You don't need to feel obligated to tell me anything. It's not my business why you were with those pirates to begin with-"
"Not that," I interrupt. "Although I don't mind telling you about that, either. No, I'm talking about my practical value."
Libra looks at me quizzically.
"Um, I don't know any proper way to say this," I say hesitantly. "But if we're attacked, um, I don't really think I can hurt anyone."
"A pacifist?" Libra asks, a strange expression on his face. "… Ah, so the bow is meant to scare bandits away?"
"Not exactly," I say. I think about my next words carefully. "I haven't been able to confirm it, but… well, the easiest way to think about this would be to say that there may be some kind of spell on me."
That gets Libra's attention. His eyes sharpen and his stare is suddenly evaluating.
"I suspect that against certain people, even if I shot them point-blank in the face with an arrow, I'd literally be unable to do damage," I continue. "You might've noticed something like that last night, actually."
"I was wondering," Libra said softly. "You passed me the pirate's axe-"
"Garm," I say. "His name was Garm."
Libra pauses, and there's that evaluating look again.
"… Garm's axe, then," Libra acknowledges.
I wonder if Libra thinks I was trying to make a statement. I wasn't.
"You passed me Garm's axe, but you had a perfect opportunity to use it yourself when you were behind him," Libra says. "At first, I thought you were simply afraid to attack him yourself. He was someone you knew, after all. But then you attacked him with an arrow."
"I think I wouldn't have been able to hurt him with an axe," I explain. "In fact, even with an arrow, I did no damage. That… doesn't make sense, right? I mean, jamming an arrow into someone's neck should lead to more than a passing injury."
"As you say," Libra says slowly. "But it's possible that you pulled your attack on instinct."
"I guess," I admit. "But my point is, if we're attacked by bandits, I might not be able to fight them off."
I'm just too weak. I can only hurt people with 7 defense or less, even with Roll's forged bow.
"How strange," Libra murmurs. I think he's taking my words at face-value, which goes to show you how weird the Fire Emblem world can be. "And your skill at healing? Are there any limits to who you can heal, too?"
"Don't think so. But my healing staff is dead, now," I say, gesturing to the stick of wood looped into my belt. I haven't thrown it away, just in case it has some value. "Used it up last night. I think I can use up to Mend staffs, if that's what they're called-" Libra's expression doesn't change, so I assume I'm right. "-But I don't have my own to use and I know you'd be more efficient than me with any staff we could find."
Libra's gaze alternates between me and the night sky. I let him think it over.
"Yesterday, you mentioned that you started healing a couple of days ago," he says. "Was that correct?"
"Yeah," I say.
"And you believe you can use Mend staffs already," Libra says. I wouldn't call his tone flat, but it's getting there.
I gesture helplessly with my hands. What can I say, that using a Heal staff 15 times automatically makes me eligible for all staffs that are arbitrarily decided to be D-ranked?
"It's related to the whole reason that I can't hurt certain people," I say. "Look, before you got off your first healing spell, did you have to do any preparatory training? Did you have any failed attempts?"
"Yes, to both," Libra says. "Although I was a quick learner."
"I didn't," I say. "A few days ago was the first time I ever touched a heal staff, and I just – I could just use it. I knew I could use it. And I know that right now, I'm capable of using Mend staffs."
"Is that right?" Libra says, more to himself than to me. He mulls on that for a moment, then seemingly comes to a decision.
"In that case," Libra says firmly, "I'm all the more certain I'd like you to accompany us to Galt."
"Huh?" I'm more thrown by his certainty than his decision. "You sure?"
Libra smiles. "I believe you," he says. "And… I do not think our meeting was a coincidence. Perhaps Naga brought us together for a reason."
Relief fills me at Libra's words. It's probably stupid of him to be so trusting, but it's… nice, being on the receiving end of that trust.
I don't think our meeting was coincidence, either, but it's not Naga's hand that I'm suspecting. I'll leave that conversation for another time. It's probably best to let Libra mull on what I've told him so far.
We exchange some small talk, and spend the night in the shelter where we killed Garm. The children are staying elsewhere with Father Bran. We'll meet up in the morning.
I sip the last of my Estus for dinner before lying down. Sleep comes easily during my second night in Loa.
Libra wakes me before dawn. We have very little to pack, and we're at the edge of town as the sun rises. We don't have to wait long before a clattering of hooves draws my attention. An elderly man sits at the front of a horse-drawn cart, with a group of 9 children inside.
I examine him quickly.
Bran
Priest
LV: 19. EX: -.
HP: 29/29.
Str: 8
Mag: 14
Skill: 11
Spd: 12
Lck: 17
Def: 8
Res: 12
His character description is encouraging: a cheerful priest who seeks to aid the less fortunate.
He's got a weapon rank of B in staves. Hm. This guy must've been pretty strong in his prime, but right now he can't fight. Even if his strength doubles mine, as a priest he's class-locked out of weapons. Assuming that other people are affected by RPG mechanics, and it's not just me.
"Ess'ai?" Libra voice interrupts my thoughts. I open my eyes and gesture at the approaching priest.
"So that's Father Bran, right?" I ask. Libra nods in answer.
I may as well check now. "Hey, Libra," I probe. "How good are you with weapons other than your axe?"
Libra's silent for a bit before he answers, and when he does his voice is quiet. "I could probably get by with a lance if I needed to, but I'm most comfortable with the axe."
I'd like to test his capabilities in a live situation to see if he can still deal numerical damage with other weapons, but it'll have to wait. Something in his tone tells me he doesn't want to talk about this now, so I let it go.
The ground outside of the town is beaten earth. It's not purely sand, which is what I instinctually expected considering I'm in Plegia. I guess the entire country can't be a desert.
Father Bran raises an arm in greeting as he approaches us.
"Ho, travelers!" the elderly man says. I like him already.
There's a faint smile on Libra's lips, but his tone is formal. "Greetings, Father Bran. I believe introductions are in order."
"No need," the man says, waving an arm as he looks at me. "You're Ess'ai, the guard that Libra picked up, and I'm Bran. Come on, then, let's get moving!"
Libra has a long-suffering expression on his face, and he looks like he wants to say something but he's stopping himself. I don't see the problem. Efficiency is good.
"Sounds good," I say, preparing to board the cart with Libra. Some of the children seem to recognize me from the night with Garm. They don't make eye contact with me.
With a subtle thumb jab at the kids, I speak quietly to Bran. "Is that going to be an issue?"
"It's fine," he says back, just as quietly. "I've spoken to them, and you'll do more good than harm here, I think."
I board the cart after Libra. I allow Libra to sit closer to the children, so that there's a barrier between the kids and myself. I don't have much wiggle room, but I'm not uncomfortably cramped on the cart, either.
"We're off," Father Bran announces, flicking his reins from his position at the front of the cart. The horse, a deep chestnut beauty, takes us slowly away from the town of Loa.
I can't help but look back. I didn't say goodbye to Noah, nor did I get to see the progress made on the town's recovery efforts. I didn't say goodbye to the dead townsfolk or Garm's corpse. I'm just… moving on.
The children are quiet for all of an hour before a young boy, one of the children who didn't see me with Garm, starts to speak to Libra about something inane.
It's another hour before the children seem to relax around me and ignore my presence. I guess Libra's more popular than I am intimidating.
The kids really seem to love Libra. One of the older girls, a quiet 7 year-old, insists on braiding his hair. She does a good job. Libra undergoes his make-over with patient affection.
We meet our first travelers sharing the road with us by the third hour of our trip. There are 3 men, travelling on foot towards Loa with packs on their back. I point them out as soon as I see them.
"Heads up," I say quietly, grasping my bow. The children, who were talking animatedly with Libra, fall quiet instantly.
"I see them," Father Bran says back. He nods amiably at the men as they approach, slowing down as they raise their hands in greeting. My eyes are already closed as I scout out their stats.
They're all villager class. No one is close to Libra's level of strength, the oldest among them having stats similar to Bran. I feel my shoulders relax.
I seem to be able to view character pages from quite a distance. Based on prior experimentation and today, I think I'm only limited by line-of-sight. It's good to know.
"Hail!" the foremost man says as we close with them. "Any news from Loa?"
I let Bran do the talking while I evaluate the men. The one that's speaking with Bran looks to be in his mid-30s. The others are younger. The youngest of them gives me a bad vibe. He looks plain enough, with simple brown hair and rough cotton clothes, but his eyes are constantly flickering over our cart.
The older man seems suitably shocked by news of another pirate raid. I glance around occasionally to make sure no one's approaching from another direction while we're stopped.
"-you know if Sara's safe?" I tune in as it looks like the conversation is drawing to a close. The man looks like he's in a hurry to be gone.
Father Bran shakes his head. "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with her. Sorry. You'd have to check yourself."
The man nods. "Thank you," he says simply, hoisting his pack again.
Bran nods back. "May Naga watch over you," he replies. The travelers don't respond in kind, but that's probably because they don't believe in Naga.
I turn in the cart to keep my eyes on the men even as they disappear into the distance.
"You can stop tracking them now," Libra points out, sounding amused. "They're simple travelers, not bandits."
"It's my job to be a visual deterrent and that's exactly what I'm going to do," I answer firmly, keeping my hands on my bow.
Libra smiles as if he's laughing at a private joke.
"What?" I ask. "What's with that expression?"
Libra waves it off. "Nothing," he says, his innocent tone giving me the feeling that I just failed a perception check. I lean in to him a bit.
"Seriously," I say quietly, so the kids won't overhear. "I didn't like the look of the youngest guy. He had calculating eyes. I feel like he was gauging his chances with us."
Libra's eyes flicker to the children to make sure they can't hear us. "I noticed," he murmurs. "But his companions seemed like the honourable sort. I don't think anything would have come of it."
I can see why Libra wanted me along, now. Bran's an old man, and despite his serious skill Libra looks like a woman. If we run into more unsavory folk, they'll see easy targets. It's all about perception.
"Someone's got to be the cautious one," I say. "It could've been an act. Pretending to be decent folks so they get a few seconds advantage when they attack."
"Bandits aren't that subtle," Libra says.
I have to suppress the urge to scoff. Everyone in this world is a living, thinking human being. Pretending to be harmless and then jumping someone is one of the oldest, most instinctive tricks in the book, one that I'm sure bandits use regularly. This isn't a fairy-tale world where bandits are stupid just because they're considered "bad".
As the sun begins to fall, I learn that I was wrong. Libra's been in this world for longer than me, so I should've taken his word for it.
Bandits aren't subtle. Not at all.
As we travel the beaten path to Galt, I notice a large group of men approaching us straight-on. As soon as they catch sight of us, they start dashing towards us.
They're far away, but I can check their character pages from a distance. There's an archer, two myrmidons, and two barbarians.
That's not what bothers me. I check the character description of one of the barbarians.
Glen – A fierce bandit who loathes the Valmese.
Barbarian
LV: 7. EX: -.
HP: 39/39
The others aren't much better.
"Bandits ahead, I'm 100% certain!" I hiss to Libra and Bran as I open my eyes. "Can we escape?"
Bran's eyes flick upwards in alarm, and he squints off into the distance. "You're sure? They could just be-"
"100% certain," I repeat. "Please trust me."
Libra takes one glance at my expression and immediately starts rifling through his bags, pulling out his axe. "Any ideas?" I ask him urgently.
One of the older children must understand what's happening, because he starts to cry. Some of the younger kids start crying, too, probably picking up on the sudden change in mood. Shit, maybe I should've just whispered to Bran and Libra. No, we don't have time to worry about tears now. The bandits are on foot and they'll probably reach us in a minute if we keep on travelling towards each other.
Wait a second, should I be deferring to Libra? He's the strongest out of us, but my power gives me access to more information.
"Father Bran, can we outrun them with this cart?" Libra crouches next to Bran on the opposite side of me.
"Ah, we may be able to match their speed," Bran says. "But not for long."
We're travelling towards the bandits, and they're coming towards us. That's not good.
"Turn," I say, pointing Bran off to the right. "If they want us, they've got to chase us."
To his credit, he steers his horse away immediately. It's either that or try to run straight past them at an angle, which might be risky with an enemy archer.
I'm examining their stats as quickly as I can.
Glen
Barbarian
LV: 7. EX: -.
HP: 39/39
Str: 17
Mag: 0
Skill: 9
Spd: 13
Lck: 7
Def: 5
Res: 1
He's equipped with a steel axe, weapon rank A and the Gamble skill at level 7. What the fuck, is this Lunatic mode?
Serran
Barbarian
LV: 1. EX: -.
HP: 30/30
Str: 11
Mag: 0
Skill: 5
Spd: 9
Lck: 5
Def: 1
Res: 0
The weaker barbarian has an iron axe and weapon rank A at level 1. Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm on Lunatic. There's a hell of a level disparity between Serran and Glen, though. I quickly scan the 3 remaining bandits.
Will
Myrmidon
LV: 5. EX: -.
HP: 31/31
Str: 12
Mag: 1
Skill: 16
Spd: 17
Lck: 12
Def: 4
Res: 4
Steel sword, weapon rank A, no skills. The second myrmidon, Bill, has the exact same stats. Twins, perhaps?
Falmer
Archer
LV: 3. EX: -.
HP: 31/31
Str: 11
Mag: 0
Skill: 15
Spd: 11
Lck: 7
Def: 4
Res: 2
Steel bow, weapon rank A, prescience skill.
"Perhaps they can be reasoned with," Libra suggests half-heartedly as I open my eyes.
"I don't know…" I say. Sure, they aren't named "bandit", but that doesn't mean much to me. Everyone I've seen in this world so far has had their own name and a brief character description.
The cart starts jostling a bit as we leave the established dirt road to Galt. If we want to turn, we've got to move in a really wide arc.
The bandits veer off to try to intercept us. Yeah, there's no way they have good intentions. I grasp my bow, number-crunching furiously.
Libra's stronger than all of them, but he can't do a solo-fight. The stronger barbarian has an attack value of 29, so Libra can't fight him for too long, even with his recent level-up against Garm.
Libra
War Monk
LV: 4. EX: -.
HP: 44/44
Str: 17
Mag: 19
Skill: 15
Spd: 17
Lck: 13
Def: 14
Res: 19
How are they gaining on us? There's about 100 metres between us when the stronger barbarian, Glen, calls to us.
"Oi, stop right there if ya know what's good fer ya! We won't kill ya if ya give up quick!"
"As I mentioned before, bandits aren't subtle," Libra says dryly.
I'd be more embarrassed if we weren't at immediate risk of death. Again.
I nock an arrow in answer, glad that I've decided to keep my bow strung. Unfortunately, I have no idea how to fire a bow. My motions are clumsy as I draw and goddamn, this takes a lot more strength than I thought. No, I can do this. Breathe, aim…
Fire!
The first arrow I ever shoot in this world falls seriously short of the bandits. I think I have time for 2 more shots before they catch up with us. These guys are fast, and our cart is just unbalanced enough to make us slow.
"Yer askin' for it now!" Glen roars at us. The little girl who braided Libra's hair looks scared, but unlike most of the other children, she isn't crying. She hoists a small rock from our cart and throws it at the bandits. She misses, but I think she had better aim than I did.
Okay. Aim, draw, pull harder, aim again, fire!
The arrow goes wide. The bandits don't even flinch as they run across the hardened dirt ground of Plegia, chasing after us in our rickety cart. I hear their archer laugh as he pulls his own arrow from his quiver. He doesn't bother firing yet.
Beside me, Libra murmurs a prayer. Goddamnit, why is my aim so bad? Sure, my skill stat is atrocious and my weapon rank is only level E, but with 5 targets my arrow should make at least one of them flinch.
… Oh, fuck, I'm going about this the wrong way. I'm treating this like real life. This isn't how I'm supposed to fight. I close my eyes.
"Naga, but I'm an idiot," I murmur quietly.
I mentally vocalize a command. Attack.
My bow thrums in my hand, just like my staff does when I heal others. Bingo.
I sift through enemy character sheets quickly. It's easy for me, now. I focus on Serran, the weakest barbarian among them. May as well be cost-effective with my attacks. I've got a 91% chance to hit for 7 damage. I'll take it.
Attack.
Just like when I use Estus or a Heal staff, I'm barely conscious of my actions as my eyes snap open. The ground seems to move closer to me. Distantly, I hear yelling, but I shut it out.
My enemies suddenly seem so close. My motions are smooth. Bow up. Arrow nocked. Draw, aim, fire. Serran stares, dumbfounded, at the arrow protruding from his chest.
Then my actions catch up to me.
I'm not in the cart anymore. I'm standing on the ground, in front of a group of barbarians who've probably only stopped out of sheer surprise at my stupidity.
I don't really blame them. What archer would surrender an excellent defender's advantage just to get a clearer shot?
The adrenaline and panic kick in half a second later. Why why why why why did I just do that?
I turn around and run, heart pounding wildly in my chest.
"Wha' the fuck-"
Roars of indignation and rage erupt behind me as my enemies give chase.
Stupid Fire Emblem mechanics! Stupid 2-range bow attacks!
I should've seen this coming. I can't control my actions when I mentally vocalize game commands. Selecting a target to attack means I have to walk up to them first.
Oh god, I'm like those stupid green NPC allies that just charges in at strong enemies and die, aren't I? And Libra –
My heart nearly stops as I glance up and see Libra, almost on top of me. In the distance, our cart is steadily moving away. At least the kids are safe with Bran.
"Get down!" Libra cries, shoving me to push us in opposite directions.
My breath catches as an arrow whizzes past the space I was just occupying. If Libra hadn't moved me…
Did he just dual guard?
Panting hard even though we've barely begun fighting, I whirl around and back-step. The bandits are close enough to try to surround us, but Libra and I are back-pedalling quickly. I keep my eyes on the archer.
"Ach," Glen spits. "Wanted the cart. Ya could've just run, idiots."
"Got somethin' just as good, though, eh?" Falmer grins, leering at Libra and his braided hair.
"I'm not -" Libra starts.
"- going with any of you," I finish hastily, shooting him a look. It's better if they think he's a woman. It's more likely that they'll try to keep him alive if they think he can be used as a trophy.
"There's no point to fighting further," Libra says, twirling Garm's killer axe in his hand. "We have nothing for you to steal."
"Tha's where yer wrong, lass," Glen grunts. "Y'ell fetch a pretty sum, methinks."
Ohhh-kay. So it's not better if they think Libra's a woman.
"He's a man," I point out.
Every bandit blinks in surprise.
"Bullshit," Falmer says, twirling an arrow.
"Yer a man?" Serran asks incredulously, forgetting about the arrow lodged in his chest for a second.
"Yes," Libra says wearily. "As I was going to point out before someone interrupted me."
I shrug.
"There you have it," I say. "So, do we want a pointless fight, or are we all gonna be smart about this?"
"You think you can beat us with skills like that?" one of the myrmidons scoffs. "Just give up and we'll make it quick. There's no way for you to beat us all."
Oh, come on. He deserves to get struck down for blatantly invoking the laws of dramatic irony. If only I were stronger to make it so.
The 4 melee bandits form a half-circle around us, while their archer stays back. Libra stands a bit ahead of me, to my right.
"Are you sure you wish to fight?" Libra asks the bandits.
"Ya cost us that cart," Glen says. "We'll make do with those nice weapons of yers, since ya don't know how to use em."
Yeah, pretty sure they're going to kill us. I grip my bow and think fast. Libra thinks faster.
"Ess'ai, catch!"
I barely have time to catch a staff of wood before I see the war monk dashing off to his right, straight for a myrmidon. His attack is telegraphed, but it's fast. The myrmidon can't get his guard up in time, and he takes a direct hit to the chest. Even as he staggers back, he slashes at Libra and hits him through his robes. I hear Libra give out a gasp of pain.
The sound sparks something within me, and before I know it, my hands are moving. I dash to the right, trying to stay behind Libra, and drop my staff while I close my eyes.
Attack. The myrmidon has 6 HP left. Attack.
The motion is as smooth as it was last time. Raise, draw, aim, fire. A clean hit. The myrmidon drops, not dead, but no longer a threat.
The problem with my attacking method is that I can't react to anything that happens while I'm attacking. I regain my focus a second too late, and scream as Serran's axe suddenly bites into my chest.
"Eye-fer-an-eye, bud," the weaker barbarian grunts. An adrenaline-fueled shove lets me push him back from me, and the pain brings clarity to my mind.
What am I doing? It's not time-efficient for me to attack. I need to focus on staying alive above all, and healing Libra when I can. A quick glance to my side reveals that Libra's fight isn't going well. He has to stay close to the remaining myrmidon and Glen. If he gets too far away, he'll be open to Falmer, the archer.
Falmer's clearly identified Libra as the priority, which gives me some breathing room.
This is bad. I doubt I can even take Serran, their weakest member, in a 1-on-1, and Libra's in a worse spot than I am, if his gasps are anything to go by.
Serran charges me again. Think! Fight smart!
"Fuckin' hell, Serran," I blurt as I backpedal, clutching my wound. "Would ya take it easy?"
The weaker barbarian stops.
"… How the hell do ya know my name?" he demands.
Yes, breathing room! Okay, keep it vague.
"Didn't recognize yer ugly mug 'til after I stuck ya with that," I say, gesturing to the arrow in his chest. I take a calculated risk and close my eyes, pantomiming wiping my face as I check on the status of Libra's fight.
Holy shit, he's at 14/44 HP. No time to hesitate. I'm at 11/20 HP, so I should be able to tank another hit from Serran.
I had to drop the staff that Libra tossed me in order to attack with my bow. I pick it up now.
Staff – Mend.
My focus on the world around me disappears. I raise Libra's staff, and the gem at its tip glows green. My focus is on the war monk. I see his head jerk in surprise as he glances at me.
The burst of health must've done him some good, because he manages to deftly dodge an attack from Glen. Then, for some reason, he turns his back on his opponents and starts dashing towards me.
Why is he –
"AHHHHH!"
Pain rips through my side again, and I fall to my knees.
"I asked you how you know that name!" Serran snarls, pulling back his axe viciously. I don't have the strength to shove him back this time.
I miscalculated. Sure, I could tank another hit from Serran, but I'm not an actual RPG character. If my HP is at 2, then that means pain.
No, no, I'm still alive. It hurts, but I open my mouth, as if I'm answering Serran's question. My eyes drift close. It's not voluntary, but that's fine.
Estus Flask 2/5: Use item.
The pain is still there, but it doesn't matter. My body ignores it and I find myself standing.
My Estus Flask is in my hand, and my arm is steady as I bring it to my lips. I sigh in pure relief as the Estus flows through me. It's beautiful. The burning in my sides becomes a faint stinging.
Then I blink.
Serran's head is no longer attached to his body. His corpse is lying in front of me. Libra is panting next to me, his robes flecked in blood again.
Seriously, way too much is happening in the few seconds it takes for me to use items.
"Are you o-" Libra starts. My eyes widen as I catch a figure closing in on us.
"Back off, pal!" I roar, ramming a myrmidon with my shoulder as he tries to gut Libra. I'm seriously lucky. My upper arm hits the flat of the myrmidon's blade, so I'm not injured for my trouble. I immediately retreat behind Libra.
Okay. There's one healthy and one critically injured myrmidon. Serran is dead, Glen seems to have taken a hit from Libra, and Falmer is uninjured. Libra's at 29 HP.
An arrow whizzes through the air and strikes Libra just as I heal him again. Some mental pinging tells me I've levelled up, but I don't have time to check it now. The remaining myrmidon and Glen attack together, and everything is chaos.
I don't have time to heal Libra a 3rd time. I'm moving left and right, trying to keep Libra between the bandits and myself. Libra barely has a chance to get in a hit. After a few hectic seconds, he manages to pull away. I see a determined expression cross his face.
Sshing!
Libra lets out a deep exhale, then breathes in. "Gods, forgive me," he says. I can barely track what he does next.
Glen charges Libra with a wild swing, trusting his ally to cover him. Libra darts towards Glen and grabs his hand, pushing it away. With a violent upwards swing, the war monk tears Glen's chest open, before immediately pushing Glen's corpse at the myrmidon to cover his retreat.
Holy hell. Pre-promotes.
The myrmidon stops attacking. Falmer drops his bow.
"That's enough," Libra says, breathing heavily. "Please, this is enough."
"Ya… ya killed him," the myrmidon says uncertainly. "Ya killed Glen."
"I didn't want to," Libra says, face tight. "But-"
Something snaps in the myrmidon's face. "Go to hell!" he roars, charging.
"Don't-!" Libra brings his axe back up, but the swordsman darts past Libra, surprising him. Oh shit, he's aiming for me.
I don't have time to think. I try to roll away on instinct, but the myrmidon's follow-up is too good. His steel sword cuts into my back, and I close my eyes as I cry out in pain.
4 HP left, and he doubles me, I think blankly. I'm screwed.
Estus Flask 1/5: Use item.
The sword cuts into me again even as I taste Estus on my lips. The pain is too much. The world disappears.
Dark Awakening – Now Loading
Death God's Price: A penalty born of the Outrealm Skill "Eyes of Death." Permanently halves HP.
A young woman struck a bargain with a God of Death in order to support the man she loved. In exchange for much of her mortal lifespan, she gained the power to kill all those who stood before her.
The man she loved did not return her feelings, though. When he died, the woman was left alone in the world, her fatal powers now worthless. She could not reclaim her lost years.
Be wary when grasping for power. The flames that burn brightest are often the quickest to burn away.
The darkness and silence is like fuzzy cotton around my head.
"… In Naga's name…"
Rumble rumble rumble.
"... Holy breath…"
I fade out.
It's night-time when I wake up. Familiar-looking stars shine brightly above me. I'm sleeping on a small, rough blanket.
"Libra…?" I call out groggily.
"I'm here," his voice answers. I tilt my head to the side as he approaches and kneels next to me. It's strange seeing him without his priest's robes. He's wearing simple cotton clothing.
"What… what happened?"
"Don't worry about that," the war monk answers. He looks tired. "Just rest."
I close my eyes. My HP is 20/20.
"Don't think I need it," I say, sitting up. "You healed me?"
"Yes."
"… What about the others?"
Libra gestures to the side with a weary smile. Father Bran and the orphans are sleeping nearby. Some of them are piled onto the wooden cart, while others are asleep on the floor. Did they come back for us?
I shake my head. "That's great, Libra, but I meant the bandits."
Maybe I shouldn't have said that. Libra's smile disappears. "Don't worry about that, for now," he repeats, more firmly this time. "How are you feeling?"
"Perfectly fine," I answer. I reassure him when he doesn't seem convinced.
"If you insist," he says reluctantly.
"I do," I say. "And… thanks, Libra. You saved my life. Again."
Libra shakes his head. "You accompanied me on this trip at my request. If I hadn't-"
"Oh no, you don't," I interrupt him smoothly. "You might not've gotten involved in that fight at all, if I hadn't jumped off and-"
I have to avert my eyes, because I can't finish the statement. God, I was a green NPC to Libra. How embarrassing.
Libra's face becomes serious. His voice is gentle when he speaks, though. "I've been meaning to talk to you about that, actually," he says hesitantly. "I was going to leave it until morning, but now that you bring it up…"
I gesture at him to continue when he trails off.
"Ess'ai, please hear me out," he says. "I don't know or care about what might've happened in the past. I believe that you're a good person."
His hand hovers for a second, before he puts it on my shoulder and looks me in the eye. I'm not sure what's happening.
"Um, okay," I say eventually.
"You are!" he says forcefully, before he checks his voice with a wince, glancing at the sleeping children. "You fought against that pirate, Garm, when you could've run. And what you did today… you deserve to live, too!"
He sounds so passionate that I raise my arms in defense. "Wait, wait wait wait," I say. "Where is this coming from?"
"You tried to sacrifice yourself today, didn't you?" he says.
What? What part of…? Oh, wait a second. I try to imagine things from his perspective.
"Libra-" I start.
"Don't," he says, raising an arm to forestall what he probably thinks will be an excuse. "I heard you say out Naga's name when your eyes were closed. You were praying, weren't you? And then you jumped off the cart and tried to become a distraction so we could get away."
"No," I say flatly. "No, that's not what happened at all."
Libra's look of sympathy doesn't help matters at all. I wonder what kind of tragic backstory he's come up with to justify the idea that I might actually try to go out in a blaze of glory.
But seriously, I'm not an atoner. I'm not having any of that, even if it's kind of funny.
"Remember that spell I was telling you about?" I say before Libra can get carried away. "The one that let me cast Mend? It affects how I fight, too."
Libra pauses.
"This is what actually happened…"
"So yeah, I'm not suicidal. Just stupid," I finish.
"Oh," Libra says. "Well… I guess that could explain it. I've never heard of such an unusual spell being bound to a person before, though."
I shrug. "I'm grateful for it. It's pretty convenient to be able to use a staff without training. Or to be able to fire a bow, even if I can't really hurt anyone with it."
Stupid low strength stat.
"No," Libra says slowly. "If anything, Ess'ai, I believe that your inability to hurt others is a blessing."
I stop myself from disagreeing, because Libra looks pretty serious right now. His eyes are on the children, and he speaks quietly.
"Ess'ai… I apologize if it seems like I'm prying, but have you seen much combat, before?"
I shake my head. "Until about a week ago, no."
"Is that so?" Libra says. "That's good. Killing another human being is a terrible thing. The memories of violence and blood don't easily fade."
There's an air of melancholy around him. I don't like it.
"Libra," I say. "You know you weren't at fault for today, right?"
He doesn't answer.
"Seriously, Libra," I say. "If you hadn't-"
"I know, Ess'ai," he answers, closing his eyes with a sigh. "It doesn't make things any easier."
He opens his eyes and shifts his gaze from the children to me. "The spell on you allows you to use both staves and bows," he says. "But you're the one who decides which of the two to wield, right?"
"Right," I say uncertainly.
Libra smiles, and the dark of night seems to withdraw a little from around us.
"My axe may be notched, but your quiver is full," Libra says. "I'm glad." He thinks for a moment, then nods. "Give me a moment."
He walks off to the cart, quietly, so as to not wake the children. When he comes back, he's holding the staff he lent me earlier today. He offers it to me.
"Libra?"
"Take it," he says. "As a reminder. You've come far with the staff, and barely touched your bow. I think you should try to keep it that way, if you can."
"I don't know if I'll be able to," I admit, taking it into my hands. "But I'll try."
"That's all I ask," Libra says.
There's a lull in the conversation. "You're good at this priestly stuff," I note, mostly to break the silence.
"My words aren't those of a priest," Libra says with a sad smile. "But those of a man who always seems to end up, for one reason or another, wielding the axe instead of the staff."
There's not much I can say to that.
"Sorry," Libra says. "Am I being too gloomy?"
"Nah," I respond. "It's cool."
"Would you mind indulging me for a moment longer, then?" Libra asks. I nod. "It's just a bit of advice. Don't tell others of the spell that affects you, unless you trust them completely."
"Wasn't really planning on it," I say, frowning. "But alright. Any particular reason?"
"People fear things they don't understand," Libra says. "And frightened people do foolish things. This morning, when you said that you had a spell on you… that's not something you should've told a stranger."
"You're not a stranger, though," I point out.
"Now? Perhaps not," Libra notes with a laugh. "But this morning, we were close to it. I'm glad you trusted me with that kind of information, but it was risky on your end."
"Hmm," I answer vaguely. "I figured it was okay. I mean, unexplained things happen all the time. And in a town like Loa, I'm sure people have run into mages, so they shouldn't be completely unfamiliar with magic."
Of course, the real reason I trusted Libra is because he's Libra. I can't say that, though.
Libra shakes his head. "Mages are not the kindest of people," he says. "People fear mages and magic for good reason."
"You didn't," I say. "Seem afraid, I mean."
"Ah," Libra says. "Well, I understand what it's like-"
He cuts himself off.
"… What it's like?" I prompt, when Libra fails to follow-up.
"No, it's nothing," Libra says, shaking his head. "I could tell you were a good person when you helped me. And the church doesn't turn anyone away, no matter what unwilling magics they're involved in, if they have a good heart."
His voice is filled with that gentle, determined passion that's unique to him.
"Wow," I say with a chuckle, "you might make a believer out of me, yet."
"Huh?" That seems to throw Libra for a loop. "You… don't believe in the Gods?"
Oh, hell. I don't think I need to guard my words around Libra, but I should definitely be a bit more careful about religious talk in a medieval setting.
"I'm sure that there's powers out there higher than humans," I say cautiously, referring to Grima and Naga. "But I don't think they're the perfect beings that we humans make them out to be."
Libra frowns. "Perfect beings?" he asks quizzically. "I certainly revere Naga, as do near all Ylisseans, but we don't claim that she's perfect."
"Oh," I say, momentarily stumped. I think I'm conflating Fire Emblem's religion with most modern Earth religions. "Ah, sorry. My upbringing didn't really expose me to much about Naga."
"You're in the right company to get that oversight corrected, young heathen," Libra says with a smile. "Well, now I'm certain that Naga brought us together for a reason. So that I could show you the beauty of faith!"
"Where I come from, people are pretty cynical about faith," I say. "But… I'll admit I'm a little curious. Just be warned that I'm not really religious."
"That's fine," Libra says, moving to his own blanket on the ground nearby. "We can talk about whatever you're interested in tomorrow. Naga willing, we'll have an uneventful day for once."
I think about the series of unusual events that my life has become since I've entered this world. "I'm not holding my breath."
"Naga has blessed me with a powerful set of lungs to preach with. I'll hold enough breath for the two of us," Libra says. "Sleep well."
I smile at that. "Sleep well, Libra," I say, laying back down on my makeshift bed.
I am feeling kind of drowsy. I wearily dismiss the half-expected message that pops up as I close my eyes.
Ess'ai and Libra attained support level C.