A/N: Update rate should normalize now. I think I've almost given up on making 3k word chapters.
Shout-out to Daniel Brantt since I can't reply to guest reviews privately. Reviewers that point out what specifically works (or doesn't work) for them are appreciated.
That said, thanks for the reviews, favs, and follows to everyone so far!
I don't notice the second message until I wake up early next morning. The sun isn't visible on the horizon yet, but it must be rising, as faint light illuminates the land around us. It's a little chilly.
All support slots have been filled.
I blink rapidly and shake my head as my brain comes to life. I rise from the blanket acting as my bed, stretching my sore muscles. It looks like Father Bran is the only other person awake. He's sitting on the cart and watching the sunrise. He gives me a wave as he sees me stand, which I answer with an acknowledging nod.
There's barely a twinge from my back where I was struck yesterday.
Unbelievable. A sword sliced through my back, across my lower spine, but I'm not paralyzed or hampered at all. Either it didn't strike as deeply as I feared, or healing magic is absurdly overpowered. I'd love to discuss its limitations with Libra or Bran, but first things first.
I close my eyes and re-examine the message in my head.
All support slots have been filled.
Continue, I think. The message disappears, but there's no further explanation provided in my head. Okay… so what just happened?
The message appeared after obtaining a C-support with Libra, so Occam's razor suggests that the message is referring to a limit on support partners, as opposed to some unrelated and undiscovered support mechanic.
For my support slots to be "filled" implies that they weren't fixed. That makes sense. It's statistically improbable that I'd run into the only 2 people that I could support in this entire world, Roll and Libra, in my first few weeks here. Plus, 1 of my 2 supports is Roll, a character wholly divorced from canon. Perhaps it's egocentric bias, but why would I get such an obscure character as a pre-built support?
It's much more likely that I had two wild-card supports. And… I just depleted those supports.
Whyyyyyyyyy –
Gods damnit, if I knew how that mechanic worked beforehand I wouldn't have wasted a support on Roll. I mean, sure, I got a nifty bow out of it, but if I could support a hardcore pirate like Roll, I could probably support anyone.
Like Chrom. Or Validar.
"You're looking pretty upset, son," Bran's voice interrupts my thoughts. I open my eyes to see the elderly priest peering up at me. Before I can respond, he reaches up and raps his knuckles on my forehead. "Everything all right in there?"
"Yeah," I say, trying not to be surprised at how close he got to me without my noticing. "Don't mind me. I'm just raging."
Bran blinks once and mouths the word "raging", then tilts his head slightly. "I see, I see. At what, if I may ask?"
"Myself. The world," I say, careful to keep my voice down on account of the still-sleeping children. "Mostly the world, for being stupid and not telling me its rules when it'd really help."
Bran smiles slightly. "Hoh. You're not the first man I've heard say that, and Naga willing I'll be alive to hear others say it, too. Do you want to talk about it?"
"Nah," I say. "Just let me sulk quietly for an hour or so, and I'll get over it."
The older man nods. "Of course," he says, withdrawing from my personal space. "Ah, by the way… If you'd prefer speaking to Libra about your troubles, I'm sure he'll be willing to lend an ear."
"I know he will," I answer. He's cool like that, and we've got a C-support, too. I catch a flicker of a grin on the priest's face. "Ah, Father Bran?"
"Hmm?"
"When're we planning on leaving?" I ask.
"Not until Libra wakes up, I'd say," he replies. "Last night tired him out."
"Right, I've been meaning to ask. What happened yesterday, exactly?"
He shrugs. "I'm not sure exactly what happened on your end," he says. "But by the time I re-approached you two, the fight was already over and you were out cold."
"You came back with the children?" I ask. "Not that I'm ungrateful, but wasn't that kind of-"
He waves it off. "I was careful and ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble," he says. "Leave the worryin' to geezers like me. But anyway, we picked you up, and Libra was mother-henning over you and the children all the way to our campsite here."
"The children are all fine, right?"
"Of course," the priest says, puffing out his chest in a clear parody of a manly man. "They were with me." His smirk afterwards doesn't seem very priestly. "You know, Libra refused to rest until you woke up."
"Is that so?" Oh, that's right. He thought I'd gone all atoner on him.
"Mmhmm," he pats me on the shoulder. "Well, best of luck with that."
"Thanks," I answer automatically. "Wait, best of luck with what?"
The priest's already returned to the cart, though.
I levelled up yesterday. I was too out of it to check at the time, but I go over my stats now.
Ess'ai
Outrealmer
LV: 5. EX: 13.
HP: 20/20.
Str: 5
Mag: 0
Skill: 3
Spd: 8
Lck: 6
Def: 10
Res: 9
Looks like I got a point in strength, speed and luck. Not bad.
It takes me an hour to discover the support menu. I need to close my eyes to view my character page, focus on the "Full" button to gain additional information about myself, and then think Supports. Just thinking the word on the regular character page doesn't seem to work.
That seems rather obscure, so I'm not angry with myself for missing it. My mood is further improved when I discover that there's 3 supportable characters on my list.
Libra - C B A
Roll - C B A S
? ? ? - C B A S
Each row has a small animated icon of my partners brandishing their weapon of choice. The person in the last row is shaded out, but I can still see the outline of their body, and I'm pretty sure it's female Robin.
Aww-right!
I have confirmation that Robin exists, and I can support her. Or rather, she can support me. She's the main character, after all, so she supports everyone.
I can also S-support Roll. That's interesting. I'm going to guess that's a Companion support and not a marriage one, since I'm pretty sure I'm straight. It doesn't really matter, though. That ship has sailed with me abandoning the Raven. Puns intended.
So it looks like by default, I come with a Robin support available, and 2 wild-cards. That would've been great to know in advance – no, don't mope.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Now that I know this world is completely willing to thrust me into a system without explaining its mechanics, it'd be stupid of me not to look for more information. I spend some time trying combinations of words and phrases while navigating my character page.
Bonus box. Bonus. Renown. Renown awards. Streetpass team. Info. Information. Further information. Tutorial. Barracks. Equipment. Status. Menu.
I discover that thinking Inventory while looking anywhere on my character page adjusts my mental focus to the inventory instantaneously. It's kind of useless, since the inventory is one of the first things I see when I open my character page, but… the more you know, I guess.
I'm having trouble remembering Dark Souls commands, which is unfortunate because I'm pretty sure there's some hidden commands there. It's how I use items, after all.
Thinking Bonus Box on the Full character information page brings up a new, completely blank page. There's nothing on it, and no further permutations of words does anything. I resolve to keep on testing it with other words. The bonus box is incredibly broken in-game and would make my life a lot easier right now.
That's how I spend the next few hours. To conserve our food supplies, I take a sip of Estus for breakfast. Then Libra wakes up, and we set off on a course for Galt.
"But I've heard the term 'war monk' thrown about," I say, shifting in my seat as our cart passes over a pothole. "So does that mean you-"
"No," Libra says. "Certainly, in the past, all those called war monks had to be, well, monks. But in this day and age it's a title that goes to almost anyone associated with the Church who also knows how to fight."
The Church in this world seems largely inspired by Christianity, but there's enough variations that I can't take what little I know for granted.
"Right," I say. "So you don't normally live in isolation with other monks, then?"
"No, because I'm not a monk," Libra explains patiently. Behind him, one of the older girls is doing up his hair into a braid again.
"You're a priest, though, right? Should I be calling you Father, then?"
"I don't think so. I've been discussing this exact topic with Father Bran for some time now," Libra says. "Titles aren't standardized in the Church, and they should be-"
"Bah," Father Bran waves a hand dismissively. "Every little community seems to have a different set of rules for who calls whom what. The differences are small enough that it's just not worth the effort to fix."
"These details could matter hundreds of years down the line," Libra insists. "History has shown us that the smallest differences in opinion can lead to conflict. And it's about sending a message of unity to those with an outside perspective."
"Message of unity?" I ask, trying to connect the idea to proper use of religious titles. "Seems like a bit of a stretch."
"To those viewing our ways for the first time, the smallest inconsistencies could be off-putting," Libra says. "I'd hate for someone to miss out on Naga's kindness because of something so seemingly small, but that's human nature."
"More like your nature, you perfectionist," I say. I can almost see Libra suppressing the urge to roll his eyes.
Bran laughs. "Already noticed that about our Libra, eh?" He shakes his head. "I'm not saying it doesn't matter, but there's greater priorities."
"It's not something that'd be difficult to fix," Libra says, and from his tone I gather that this is something they've debated before. "We'd just need a very reasonable and clear system of titles."
"And a bunch of gold to hasten the minds of some stubborn men," Bran snorts.
Libra's expression has a touch of exasperation. "It can't hurt to try. Ess'ai, what do you honestly think?"
"Eh," I say noncommittally. "I'm not familiar enough with the Church to give any practical suggestions, but I agree that the smallest divisions could grow to form pretty large splinters if left unchecked, particularly when faith is involved."
"Of course you'd agree," Bran says, nudging me with an elbow.
"Ow." I raise an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
The conversation continues on in that vein for some time. The sun is beginning to set. We've run into a few travelers, but no one hostile. There was one person whose character description heavily implied that he was a bandit, but I brazenly kept an arrow on-string as he walked by. He eyed us speculatively, but didn't give us any trouble.
I'd like to think I was the deciding factor there, but who knows for sure?
The children are mostly entertaining each other while we adults talk away the long hours to Galt.
"I'm telling you, practically, that you're going to get a bunch of priests nodding to you, then turning around and changing nothing when you leave," Bran says, and Libra sighs.
"Hmm. Why not run it by the Exalt instead?" I ponder. "Isn't she a figure of religious significance?"
Bran laughs. "You've never been to Ylisse before, right?" I shake my head. "Well, you're already thinking like a native."
"Huh? How so?" I ask.
Libra's smiling slightly, too. "When in doubt, ask the Exalt."
Bran shakes his head. "It'd certainly work to get everyone in line, I'll give you that much. But she's got enough on her plate without us adding to it."
"But she does have weight in the Church, right?" I ask.
The answer is a resounding yes, both politically and in terms of moral support. Emmeryn has solid momentum with the people, and it's much easier for the Church to set her up as one of them instead of fighting for power over the masses with her.
Libra doesn't quite phrase it like that. Bran does. I don't think he cares about political correctness.
"So," I say. "A few words from her would probably solve this entire issue completely. While for one of you, it might take years of work."
Libra sighs. "Believe me, Ess'ai, that's how it is for everyone. Everyone thinks their problem is special, and everyone turns to Her Grace for a quick fix. I don't think I'm being prideful in looking for another way. It just doesn't sit right with me to always run to her for help."
"Always? Have you met her before?"
That gets a faint smile out of Libra. "Twice actually, though only from a distance."
From there we derail into story-time. I bring up the idea that since it wasn't Libra directly looking for her help, he's justified in asking her for help now, but he seems set against the idea. Then we start debating the appropriate intervals at which one could reasonably ask the Exalt for help. Bran has an amused look on his face as Libra and I trade opinions back and forth.
Time flies by.
"You know," Libra says off-handedly as we set up camp for the night. "When I said I wanted to teach you of Naga, I was referring to the faith aspect."
I shake my head. "I honestly have no idea how we spent a whole day talking about Church politics."
Bran laughs as he helps the children get to bed. "Welcome to religion, friend."
We run into a pair of bandits on our 3rd day, but they're not attacking us. They're attacking what appears to be a lone merchant. They've drawn their axes and – holy shit, they're actually trying to kill the man!
Flann
Barbarian
LV: 2. EX: -.
HP: 30/30.
Flynn
Barbarian
LV: 5. EX: -.
HP: 38/38
Hugh
Villager
LV: 1. EX: -.
HP: 18/18
"Libra!"
"I know," he says, quickly grabbing his axe from his pack. "Father Bran-"
"What a terrible state of affairs," Bran sighs. "I'll backtrack with the children. Be careful!"
The merchant gives a shrill cry as he tumbles in his haste to escape. That probably saved his life. The stronger barbarian, Flynn, barely misses him with a thrown hand-axe, but now he's rushing the merchant.
"Ess'ai, give a warning shot!" Libra says urgently.
"Right!" Oh wait, I don't have the skill to do warning shots without targeting someone mentally. My technique is atrocious without the game's aid. Well, whatever. I don't need to be precise.
"Stay out of my range," I warn Libra as I nock an arrow. I need to stand still in order to shoot, so Libra goes on past me as I draw back. Alright, aim vaguely for the bandit… loose!
Oh hell. The arrow barely skims by Libra and falls short of the bandit. Libra shoots me an incredulous look, but it gets the bandit's attention anyway. Success?
The bandits stop chasing the merchant, who runs past us.
"Thank you," he gasps out. "Oh gods, thank you."
"Outta the way," Flynn growls, hefting his axe. "If you don't wanna get hurt."
"Is this what it looks like?" Libra asks the villager we saved.
The man nods. "Uh, I guess so, sir. Ah mean, I don't know these folks or nothin'."
Libra nods. "So," he says, addressing the bandits. "I take it you're trying to kill this man in order to steal his goods?"
"No shit," Flann says. "Last warning. Outta the way."
"No," Libra says. "Walk away now. This can end right here."
Damn, I'm impressed. I'm not worried because I know Libra's stats trump these guys, but Libra doesn't know that. He doesn't look afraid at all, only resigned. I raise my bow again, and Libra glances back at me.
"Remember what we talked about, Ess'ai," he says softly.
Oh. I put the bow back and take out Libra's mend staff, instead, stepping behind the war monk to support him.
The bandits, for their part, don't look so certain anymore. Libra's confidence is probably bothering them.
"Ah hell," Flynn says. "You asked for it, priest."
He approaches Libra cautiously and takes a probing swing, which Libra dodges. Flann follows up with another swing, forcing Libra to back-step. The two are careful in their attacks, but there's no real risk of Libra getting hit if they aren't going to commit.
Flynn changes that when he reaches into a pouch and throws an axe at Libra. Libra raises an arm instinctually in self-defense, and amazingly enough, the axe connects.
With the haft. I guess that's why throwing weapons is a stupid idea.
The distraction is enough for the bandit to get in a quick hit on Libra's upper arm, though, tearing through his robes.
"Ah, not again," Libra says, wincing.
Splat!
Libra's return attack is powerful, slicing through Flynn's chest. The bandit staggers back, even as I close my eyes and cast a mend spell on Libra. May as well be careful.
"Fuck!" When I open my eyes, Flann has stopped attacking to support his ally. "You alright, bro?"
"Fuck this," Flynn coughs out, eyes flickering between Libra and his own wounded chest. "Fuck this. We're done."
"Done?" Libra says softly. "I could kill you right now. Who says you get to decide when this is done?"
Holy shit. The bandits pale, and they're not the only ones. Libra sounds scary.
Libra approaches the pair and raises his axe. They flinch.
"I won't continue this fight," he says, and they sigh in relief. "That's not Naga's way. But if you continue on this path, you're going to run into someone who won't stop. There are better ways if you look for them. Please, heed my words."
Flynn's expression is troubled. Flann just looks like he wants to get out of there.
That's how our fight ends.
I miss the conversation between the merchant and Libra, because as soon as the bandits run off I backtrack to find Father Bran and the children. Bran waves at me as I come into sight, and I lead him back to Libra, picking up my stray arrow on the way.
The merchant is heading off in the direction of Loa.
"… a pirate raid," Libra is saying as I rejoin the pair.
"Tha' right? Probably best to get there quick-times, I reckon. Ah'll need to set-up everythin' for the others," Hugh scratches his face. "Thank you again fer everythin', sirs. I owe ya ma life. Ya sure there's nothin' I can't give ya?"
Aw, I think Libra's already turned down any possible reward. Well, he did the legwork, so it's his choice. Libra shakes his head.
"I'll be off, then," the merchant says. "Ah, name's Hugh, 'fore I forget."
"Libra," the monk says in return.
"Ess'ai."
The merchant shakes our hands, and then we go our separate ways. The ride is quieter than normal for the next hour while we try to shake off the post-battle atmosphere.
"Hugh said that there's more bandits around than normal," Libra quietly mentions to Bran and myself. "Apparently, a large group has broken up with the death of their leader. I wouldn't be surprised if we run into other small groups before we get to Galt."
"Especially as we approach the town itself, I imagine," I add.
Libra nudges me to explain when I don't elaborate.
The ideal ambush spot for a bandit should be right outside of a town. You need to be far enough from town guards, but close enough to a spot where you know there's going to be people. Plus, travelers coming into a town are weariest at the end of their journeys. I explain as much to Libra.
"Well," I conclude. "That's what seems most logical to me. Any insight?"
He gives me a wry smile. "Yes. You seem pretty familiar with how bandits think."
I swat him on the arm. As interesting as it is, I guess these kinds of conversations are more suited for someone like Robin instead of Libra, so I change the subject. The remainder of the day goes by with idle conversation between the three adults in our group.
One of the most interesting things I pick up in conversation is the relationship between healers of the church and mages. There seems to be some friction there, but I don't probe further.
Galt comes into sight on our 4th day.
The children are surprisingly energetic. I've been spending my time alternating between trying to uncover bonus box secrets, and talking with Libra.
I've had no luck with the bonus box, but Libra's a pretty good conversationalist, even when we get into some pretty heavy topics.
"King Gangrel," Libra says with a hint of distaste. "It's an open secret that he hates Ylisse, but no, I don't think it'll come to war."
"Hmm," I say skeptically. "I heard some troubling rumors back in Loa."
"There are always rumors," Libra says lightly. His eyes are sharp, though. They flicker to the children and then back to me. "I wouldn't read into them too much."
"Right," I say, receiving his unspoken message. I stare back into his eyes for a bit longer than necessary, and he gives me a short nod. I'm guessing that means he acknowledges that I want to talk to him later.
We run into two small groups of bandits before we get to Galt itself. They more-or-less go the same way as yesterday's encounter. Our initial intimidation of the bandits always fails. I always hide behind – uh, support – Libra, and after a few blows they decide that we're not worth the trouble.
I'm vastly underselling how scary it is knowing that I could die in these fights, but I feel stupid focusing on myself. Libra's the one soaking up the bandits' attention and blows, and he's not complaining, so I won't either.
Interestingly enough, I get a good feel for how Libra fights by watching his back. He seems to have two modes. Passively watching the enemy, and rushing them down in a burst of violence.
Case-in-point, right now. We're facing a group of 3 bandits, and Libra's been doing nothing but dodging for the past 20 seconds. I see a shift in his posture, a tensing in his legs, and I stop back-pedaling and close my eyes to prepare a Mend spell.
There's the bandits cries of pain. And there's Libra's small gasp as he takes a hit while in his overwhelming offense mode. I cast Mend instantly.
I guess it must be unnerving for the bandits to fight someone who's healed as soon as he gets hit. They surrender soon after.
"You've got a pretty reckless fighting style when you're going all-out," I comment idly after our skirmish. Father Bran, bless his soul, has been great about keeping the children from seeing our battles. We're lucky we haven't been outright ambushed yet.
"If I know you're not going to attack with your bow, then that means you're keeping your mind on when to heal," Libra responds. "And it worked, didn't it?"
"We seem like we have decent synergy when we fight," I admit. "But that'll fall apart as soon as soon as the bandits wise up and attack me first. I go down much faster than you."
"That's what I'm here for," Libra says.
You're missing the point, Libra. If his fighting style is anything to go by, he's not the most tactically-oriented fighter. Then again, his system seems to work pretty well against bandits.
Galt is a walled town, and it has local townsfolk guarding an entrance. It's only two mid-level villagers with iron lances and no armour, but it's better than nothing. Bran raises an arm in greeting.
"Ho there!" the elderly man calls out.
One of the guards smiles. "Ho, Father! Glad to see ya made it back all safe-like, what with all the trouble brewin'."
Huh. I wasn't expecting a friendly greeting for a priest of Naga in a Plegian town. They exchange some pleasantries.
"Good timin', too," the guard remarks as we pass by. "We've got some merchants and whatnot in from Ferox!"
Libra seems happy to hear that. I nudge him and raise an eyebrow.
"Well, it'll be good for the children, I think," he says by way of explanation, and I nod. "A good first impression for Galt. I won't say trade's been restricted here for the last little while, but… it hasn't been booming, either. Especially with those bandits about."
Galt is different from Loa. It smells earthy, while Loa smelled salty, as befitting its status as a coastal town. There's a small hubbub as we traverse the town proper in our cart, passing by some interesting-looking merchant stalls. The children ooh and ahh appropriately. I keep an eye on them to make sure they don't leave the cart.
"Fresh, hot meat pies, best in Galt, better than Harry's, for sure, come and get 'em!"
"Hah, don't listen to that phony, I've got the best-"
I'm not as fascinated with medieval worlds as I was when I was a child, but this is pretty awesome. Smells a bit, though. I watch a child dash right underneath our cart, winding through the crowd.
I know Earth is objectively superior in nearly every way, but this is different. Just letting it soak in, I feel like this is the first time I've actually been able to appreciate civilization in Fire Emblem. There were pirates at the Sea King's throne, and Loa was depressing to be in post-raid, but this… it's nice.
The church in Galt is a lot more humble than I'd been expecting. It doesn't look any different than the other buildings. That is, it's made of plain brick and has open holes for windows, with curtains or sliding wood-panels for coverings. The inside is nice, if a bit quiet.
"Ah, you're back already? I wasn't expecting you for a few more days!"
A bearded, stocky man in brown robes greets Bran warmly, and gives friendly nods to the rest of us.
Jan – A pensive man trying to understand suffering.
Priest
LV: 11. EX: -.
HP: 32/32
I have no idea what to make of his character description. I can't interpret it as good or bad, but he seems normal enough. He has miracle, heal-touch, and HP + 5 as skills.
That's interesting. HP + 5 means he was originally a fighter, and now he's a priest. I wonder if there's a story behind that? Repentance for previous violence, perhaps? Or maybe I'm reading too much into it. How is gameplay and story segregation supposed to work when I'm actually living the game?
There are some wooden pews here. Does any religion aside from Christianity use pews on Earth? I'm not too sure. I notice a stone idol of what appears to be Naga, surrounded by a few candles.
The children are taking in the church and Jan with mixed reception. The younger ones seem curious, while the older ones seem wary.
The girl who was braiding Libra's hair pulls at his robes to get his attention. "Is this home?"
Something about that pulls at my heart. Libra's smile is gentle.
"Yes, it is. Welcome home, children."
Hours later, once we've helped the children get settled in and unpacked our cart, Libra takes me aside.
"You seem troubled," he notes.
"How are you planning on feeding them?" I ask bluntly.
"Don't worry about it too much. We'll get by," Libra says, and then he blinks when I frown. "Oh, we're not – we are planning on taking care of them. We get supplies from Ylisse, and-"
I pick up on some inflections in his voice that I wouldn't have noticed a few days ago.
"Hold up, I'm not even close to implying any wrongdoing," I say, waving my hands. "Although… I'm wondering now what you think I was implying."
"Ah…" Libra looks surprisingly sheepish. "I'd rather just change the subject."
"Well, that's blatant," I note.
"I think I'm picking it up from you, honestly," Libra says. "Well, Father Bran and yourself."
"Fair enough," I say, casting about for another topic. "We never really got to talk actual theology."
Libra's eyes seem to light up a bit as we take seats near each other on the wooden pews. "That's right. Was there anything in particular you wanted to discuss first? Any questions?"
I've been thinking on this for some time, actually. Libra's 1 of the only 2 people in this world that I can viably support. If I decide to join the Shepherds, I'll probably be fighting alongside him as much as I can.
More than that, I've already fought alongside him. We've saved each other's lives. So, I'm going to treat him like a real person. I'm not going to pull my questions.
I'll try not to be an asshole about it, though. More than anything, I just want to get to know him a bit better.
"Well… I do have a question, but you might construe it as offensive," I start. "It's a purely hypothetical question, and doesn't reflect my beliefs at all. Is that alright?"
A corner of his mouth quirks upwards. "I won't be offended," he says, looking interested. "Ask away."
I keep my eyes on him as I speak. "What would you say if I had – and I don't, this is just for the question's sake – absolute definitive proof that Naga didn't exist?"
Libra's brows furrow. "That's more of a question about me than the faith, but very well."
I snort. He's on-point with details. "Perfectionist."
"Not the choice of word I'd use, but since I'm a priest and not a scholar, I'll let it go," Libra answers absently as he steeples his fingers. I'm glad to see that he's actually mulling over the question and giving it some thought.
"I'm certain no such proof exists," Libra says eventually. I nod, but as I open my mouth to press the hypothetical aspect he raises his hand. "And I've got to note that considering the question makes me uncomfortable."
I wince. I've heard that you're not supposed to talk religion or politics with new friends of opposing views if you want to stay friends. And that's all I've done with Libra so far.
"Ah, he – heck," I say. Maybe I shouldn't risk a friendship so early on. "Sorry, you don't have to answer if you-"
"It's fine," Libra assures me. "I'm proud of my faith in Naga, but true faith means that I shouldn't feel uncomfortable considering these scenarios."
Then again, Libra's pretty cool.
"To answer your question, it wouldn't change anything for me."
"I thought you'd say that," I remark. "Why?"
Libra laughs. "Honestly, I just don't want to consider a world where Naga doesn't exist. I'm not a strong man. I'd rather lie to myself than live in such a world."
I blink. That's an incredibly self-aware comment. Then I laugh, too.
"That level of faith is something else, Libra," I say. I don't know if that qualifies as faith, actually. I tuck my legs in as a pair of the younger children run past us. "You're dead-wrong on the strength bit, though."
"Oh?
"Well, you were pretty incredible against Garm. I sure as heck wasn't fighting alongside a weak man then."
I don't know how Libra makes it seem like he's rolling his eyes while keeping a straight face. "I was referring to moral and psychological strength, not physical strength."
"Still applies. You were putting yourself in harm's way for children you didn't really know. That's strength."
"Perhaps," Libra says.
"Not perhaps. It is."
"Hmm," Libra rests his face on a palm, eyes fixed on the floor. "I realize the irony of my asking, but may I confess something to you, Ess'ai?"
"Absolutely."
"A few nights ago, you said I was good at 'priestly stuff'," Libra says. "And yet more and more often, I find myself thinking that I'm merely good at playing the role of a priest. That others see what they expect to see in me, and that my ruse is simply good enough to convince them."
Well, that's interesting. I don't remember how to do proper motivational interviewing, but I want Libra to explore his own thoughts more, so: "And does that bother you?"
Libra sighs. "I… yes? I'm unsatisfied. Ess'ai, there's something wrong about a man with hands as bloody as my own giving moral guidance to everyone else. A man such as Father Bran is suited for this vocation. I don't think I am."
This isn't the first time Libra's implied that he's fought a lot of people. At first, I dismissed it, but now I'm getting a bit concerned. I can be circumspect, or I can call out the elephant in the room. And when I phrase it like that, the choice becomes obvious to me.
"Libra," I say. Then I lose my nerve and sigh. I can't think of a good way to ask "how many people have you killed?"
Silence between us is usually comfortable. Now, it feels a little stifling.
"Why did you help those children?" I ask eventually.
"We helped those children," Libra says. I'm glad to see a small smile on his face. "Thank you for that, by the way."
"Anytime," I say, gesturing at a pair of children running through a side room of the church. They look happy and excited. "Kind of its own reward, eh?"
Ah damn, don't prime Libra's mind with your own opinions, stupid.
But Libra nods. "Indeed. These children have lost so much. I want to give them something that can't be stolen from them. I want to give these children hope, Ess'ai. Hope and faith."
Something in his tone is tickling my mind. Belatedly, I remember his supports with Tharja. That's right, didn't he have a difficult childhood?
"And that's important for orphans, isn't it?" I say cautiously. "To have something that can't be stolen from them."
"Yes," he says heavily. "Yes, it's… very important."
"Libra…"
"You're perceptive," Libra says. "You can tell, can't you? Why I'm helping these children."
I sigh. "So you see yourself in them. What's wrong with that?"
Libra doesn't bat an eye at my guessing his back-story. "I'm being selfish. There are other issues I'm ignoring. Addicts. Bandits."
"You probably scared those bandits yesterday off a life of crime forever," I say in a half-hearted attempt to lighten the mood.
Libra's not having it. "I deal with bandit attacks, but I don't put my heart into convincing them to change their ways. It's just lip-service. 'We don't need to continue fighting. Please stop.' What's that supposed to accomplish?"
I shrug. "Sometimes words can't solve everything."
"That's what a priest's job is, though. To solve issues with words. I don't think Father Bran has seriously fought once in his entire life."
"So you're not the perfect picture of a priest," I say. "Big deal. You're a war monk instead, then. Who cares about the labels? I think you're doing what you should be doing."
"High praise from a pirate turned defender-of-children," Libra says, but the tilt of his mouth hints that he's joking.
"It sounds to me like you're worried that you're being selfish," I say. "That you're only concerned about issues that pertain to you, somehow."
I keep an eye on Libra's body language to see if he agrees. He nods, looking thoughtful. "I suppose that is bothering me, yes."
"So how do you explain defending me when I ran off to fight those bandits yesterday?" I ask. "You were almost right behind me, despite how stupid it was of me to fight. Most men would've hesitated."
"I…" Libra pauses. "You called out Naga's name. I thought you were a repentant criminal trying to do good at the end of his life. I couldn't let your story end like that."
"Doesn't sound like it relates to you, but you stepped in to help anyway. Therefore, you're inherently good."
"Perhaps," Libra says again. I give him some time to mull over that.
"You don't look convinced," I note eventually. "So either we didn't address the concern of your selfishness properly, or there's another issue bothering you."
Libra smiles. "If you're going to press the issue, then I'll gladly share. Though I don't know how our roles have gotten so thoroughly reversed."
"Screw convention," I say. "Spill."
"I'm good at combat," Libra says. "I hate it, hate fighting or killing other people, but it comes easily to me. That scares me."
I'm not sure what to say, so I'm silent. Fortunately, Libra takes that as a cue to continue.
"I guess it comes together with that feeling of being a fake. I can play the role of a priest very well, but I'm great at fighting. You noticed my combat style, right? I wait and watch my opponents. When the time is right, I attack. The amount of time I need to wait depends on the enemy, but I can see it. I can see when they don't expect me to attack, and I use that to fight." He hesitates. "I'm a priest, but… am I meant to be a priest, I wonder?"
"Hellllll yes," I say emphatically. Libra blinks. "So you're good at fighting. So what? There's no rule that says priests can't excel at combat. If anything, it lets you do what other priests can't do."
"You can't control your natural skills, but you can choose what you do with them," I continue. "If you're skilled at fighting, then embrace that, and use it for the greater good."
Libra doesn't look like he knows what to make of that. "Embrace… fighting?"
Right, the whole trope of "accept your dark side as a part of you" is a modern idea. Medieval worlds are probably all about repressing inner darkness.
I nod. "And in the meantime, if you're worried that you're simply playing the role of a priest, well, don't be, because there's nothing wrong with that, either. As far as I'm concerned, if you're playing a role well enough that you've convinced everyone, and it reflects completely in your actions, then there's no difference between you and the real thing."
Libra doesn't say anything for a long time. When he does speak, his voice is heavy. "Naga would know the difference."
Argh. "I admit I know far less of Naga's ways than you," I try, "but from what I've heard she's entirely fair. You're a good person. Naga'll accept you. And if she doesn't, then she's not good enough for you."
Libra's eyes widen. Maybe it's not a good idea to blatantly blaspheme in front of a devout man.
The war monk puts his head in his hands. Is he… shaking?
"Libra-"
Wait, he's laughing. I feel a wave of relief when he looks up with a smile.
"I don't know what I was expecting with this conversation, Ess'ai," he says. "But it certainly wasn't this."
Something about his smile is different. It's not that Libra's been disingenuous before, but something about it seems more… soulful, I suppose. I feel a warmth in my chest.
"… Thanks, though," he adds. "You've given me a lot to think about."
"Anytime," I say, closing my eyes.
Ess'ai and Libra attained support level B.
I had a feeling that's what was happening -
A window with a familiar-looking black icon pops up in my mind's eye.
Humanity (1).
"Ess'ai? Is everything alright? You've gone still."
"Uh, it's nothing," I say, opening my eyes.
Libra clearly knows something's up, but with a stroke of convenient timing one of the children approaches Libra to ask him something. With a sharp look to indicate our conversation isn't over, he heads off. I close my eyes to investigate.
Inventory.
Hush 45/50 (E): Inexpensive, but low in power.
Rank: E, Mt: 4, Hit: 100, Crit: 0, Rng: 2, Eff: Pegasi.
Kara: A steel bracelet. No effect, but offers memories of a past life. Your starting gift.
Estus Flask 2/5: A Risen favourite. Recovers HP. Restored upon a full night's rest.
Mend 12/20: Greatly restores an adjacent ally's HP.
Rank: D, Rng: 1
Iron arrow (3): Supplementary arrows. Restores durability of an equipped "iron bow".
Bronze arrow (1): Supplementary arrow. Restores durability of an equipped "bronze bow".
Humanity (1): A mysterious black sprite. Effects depend on context of use.
As I thought, I gained a humanity from that conversation. But why? And what's the role of humanity in a world that seems to be largely Fire Emblem based?
This can only be a good thing, but for some reason I feel nervous. Like I'm missing something.
"Ess'ai, is everything alright?" Libra voice interrupts my thoughts as he returns.
"Yeah, I think so. I may badger you for some insight on the nature of humanity soon, though."
Libra raises an eyebrow. "I'll be glad to return the favour. Ah, but I wanted to ask you something."
"What's up?"
"The children have heard that there's going to be a performance tonight," Libra says. "And, well, they haven't asked, but I think they'd enjoy going. Bran agrees that it'd make for a great first impression on them."
"Performance?" I ask quizzically. "That happen often here? And what kind?"
"Only when we get travelling performers," Libra answers. "And I think it's going to be song and dance. Supposedly, one of their dancers is renowned for her grace and beauty across all of Ferox."
Well, isn't that interesting.
"Would you like to join us?"
"Yeah, I think I would."
A/N: RNGesus has come to bless Ess'ai's STR level-ups. Incidentally, there were no rolls for any of the bandit encounters this chapter because of Libra's presence.