Disclaimer - I don't own Fire Emblem. All of its properties belong to Nintendo and Intelligent Systems.
Warnings - This chapter contains large amounts of graphic violence, gore, and harsh language.
Chapter 2
There are only two things in the whole world I can claim to be good at. One, I can make a perfect Napoleon. Two, I am unbeatable in Trivial Pursuit.
Now unless someone needs baked goods or the distance in miles between the sun and the Earth, I have no idea why I'm here in Ylisse. The tome I carry in my hands is a heavy reminder that I'm probably setting myself up for disaster.
The two of us approach the fountain where the map last showed the myrmidon and brigand standing. Chrom ducks down behind one of wooden counters and gestures for me to settle in beside him. He takes a quick peek around the corner.
"Still there?" I whisper.
"Yes. Both of them. One of them is directly before us. The other is wandering north and west of here near the oil cart beyond the fountain. If we move fast enough we should be able to take the first one down before his friend reaches us."
"Okay. Makes sense."
"I want you to hit the swordsman first with your magic. I'll follow up behind you to finish him off."
"Yeah I'll-wait what?" I look at him incredulously, my voice rising in alarm. "Are you serious?"
"Your magic makes you a long range fighter. You'll be able to get a hit in long before I. Having that brigand already bruised by your powers will make it easier for him to be dealt with."
Well I can't fault that logic. Still, I'm apprehensive about this. I've never used the tome so I can't guarantee him a hit. I suppose being negative about it doesn't help either. If anything, that will make my chances even worse. My fingers drum absentmindedly along the spine. I'm just going to have to put my faith in instinct.
"This...shouldn't be too hard."
"Maybe I should stand back when you do this," he chuckles.
"Maybe you should," I say somberly. I clench the book tighter against my chest. I won't lie, I'm utterly frightened. My heart is hammering against my chest. I've only got one chance at this so I can't screw up.
I peer over the top of the counter and eyeball the enemy. The myrmidon isn't far. Maybe twenty feet. I think that's within my range of fire though it's hard to say having never done it before. So-
"Hey, are you going to be okay with this?"
-if magic is anything like firing a gun then I'm going to have to take into account wind, angles, and trajectory. Light guns in the arcade hardly make me a shooting expert but some of the rules still apply. I assume the same can be said for firing off one of these bolts. Now-
"Robin?"
-given that the distance isn't that long and the breeze is fairly still then I won't have much to worry about on those fronts. But I should also take into consideration this guy's moving patterns. He can jump, duck, and do a multitude of other things to dodge the magic bolts. I'll have to pay good attention to-
"Robin!"
"What?" I snap. Chrom looks startled by my sudden attitude. I sigh and sink back down to the ground feeling like an idiot for zoning out. "Sorry, I was thinking. Magic-y things." He makes a face. "Sorry," I say again.
"Maybe I should go first."
"No," I whisper insistently. "You're right. I have to do this. This will grant us the best advantage in this situation."
Chrom still looks unsure but moves aside regardless.
"I'm going to get his attention and try to hit him right away. Be ready to follow up as soon as I use my magic."
Chrom tilts his head in acknowledgement and crouches low with his hand on the hilt of Falchion. I can see how tense his whole body is. He's definitely prepared so I can't fail him on this. I take a deep breath and mentally prepare myself. Okay, I think I'm ready.
I burst out from around the corner and call out. "Hey moron!"
The myrmidon jolts to his feet. When our eyes connect I know it's time to move.
I plant myself firmly in place and decide to copy the stance from the games, shifting sideways with tome flat out in my hand. As I do so a sense of familiarity sweeps through me. This feels oddly right. My eyes flicker up from the open book to the enemy. He's closing in fast and I don't have much time. I choose to stop thinking and give into instinct.
My body automatically begins to move through a routine. I flip through the weathered pages, my hands practically a blur. I pass by so many words, pictures, chapters. Partway through I suddenly stop. This is it. This is the spell I need. My eyes skim over the text which illicit powerful images of lightning strikes and raging thunderstorms rolling in the dark of night. The more I read the more real it feels.
The buildup is extraordinary. The air crackles with static and I can feel my hair beginning to stand on end. There is a feeling that wells up at my feet and floods up through my veins in all directions. I can feel it circulating through me and I begin to focus on pushing it toward my outstretched hand. I pinpoint a spot in the very middle of my palm and feel this force begin to build up there. The magical bubble grows and grows until I feel as if it were ready to burst. My energy has built up sufficiently. I can now release it.
My palm flexes and my whole arm goes numb under the strain of some unforeseen force. A blinding light flashes and the air erupts with a crack. Tiny little sparks twist upward and I can see ruins form in a flash of gold. There is a high pitched whine, like a firecracker going off, and then more light. A bolt sizzles forward with a hiss of magical energy.
"Holy hell. I did it," I whisper in disbelief. I don't know how this happening, nor do I know why, but damn it all if isn't awesome!
The bolt arcs forward swiveling left and right erratically causing my awe to quickly turn to disappointment. Just as I fear I'll miss completely, the magic whizzes past the man's shoulder clipping him across the upper bicep. He drops his weapon and grabs at his muscle as it spasms under the electrical surge.
There is a glint of blue from the corner of my eye. I barely have time to register Chrom's departure from my side before I see him bearing down on the enemy. He moves quickly reaching the myrmidon in only seconds. The swordsman's body falls back in surprise and he just misses the tip of Falchion. His luck ends there though. Sluggish from the electric attack that seared his body, the myrmidon can't put enough distance between himself and his opponent. Chrom easily follows through with another attack that pierces cleanly through.
I flinch. This is the third time I've seen a man die in an hour and I have yet to get use to the shock of it. The myrmidon's body sags and drops without a sound. I feel my stomach curdle. I try to let it pass but I'm sure I don't have much time to recover. The ruckus has probably attracted the attention of the dead man's companion.
My thoughts are confirmed shortly after. A pudgy brigand is waddling over to the two of us with his weapon raised. I flip open my tome and ready myself for another attack. There's so much girth on this guy that there's no way I could miss. I confidently close my eyes and focus on drawing up power like I did before. The air sizzles around me I can feel the wellspring bubble up inside. I throw my hand up and let out a blast. I wait to hear screams. And wait.
I crack open and eye and see my bolt spiraling far to the right completely missing the target. Tubby is surprisingly nimble and veers off to the side out of harm's way. My projectile slams into a stack of boxes and they explode on impact.
"You have got to be shitting me," I hiss.
The brigand resumes his charge and aims straight for me. I frantically try to focus on my energy output but my nerves are frayed. All I can hear in my head are the seconds ticking down as he gets one step closer with that axe of his. In a desperate attempt to force something out, I over push my focus and the power builds up too fast. There is a bright flare and I stumble as the magic backfires on me.
The bolt is too large and I haven't properly angled myself. It shoots out like a rocket and hits the cobblestone a few feet in front of me. The force of the blast hits me and I'm thrown back into a wall. There is a ringing in my ears and I slap my hand against my forehead trying to clear the disorientation. My legs feel like rubber as I try to stand.
Through the smoke I can see a dark blurb. It grows closer and bigger. The dust blows apart and the brigand barrels through with a mighty swing.
I push myself away from the wall just as the axe crashes into where I once stood. He takes another swing at me and I leap back. My foot catches on something and my whole self flips over. I land with an unladylike grunt.
I can feel fear in my gut so I instinctively roll to the side barely escaping getting my head cleaved in two. The axe head slams into the ground so close to my face I can see the tiny chips along its edge. My eyes widen as I roll back onto my heels. I start to scurry backward, my eyes desperately searching for my tome that got thrown during the blast. I catch sight of its off yellow cover a little to my left. I get on my knees and make a dive for it.
My fingers close over the edges of it. I turn over and make to unleash a spell when I realize how close the brigand is. Too close. He gives me a gnarly grin and hefts his axe above his head ready to slice me right down the middle.
I whip the tome above my head in a futile attempt to create a shield and brace for copious amounts of pain. And death. Lots and lots of death.
"Robin!"
A shadow falls over me and I hear a distinct metallic ring. I peek out from behind the book and reel back in surprise.
Chrom has intercepted the brigand's weapon and the two stand toe to toe. Falchion lies wedged on the underside of the axe head keeping it aloft only inches from the two of us. I can practically see sparks shooting off the metal as both weapons grind against each other. The two are seemingly deadlocked with neither sword nor axe making any ground.
"I..." Words fail as my eyes dart between the two of them. I feel stupid just standing there watching them struggle. I need to do something but I have no idea what.
My tome lies heavily in my arms reminding me how useless it is right now. There was no way I could fire it off without getting one or both of us caught in the aftershock. If only I had another weapon!
Oh. Wait.
My hand flies to my hip grasping at the scabbard I had seemingly forgotten up until this point. I fumble around and somehow manage to get a grip on the hilt of the actual blade. It pulls from its sheathe easily leaving me to hold it awkwardly in one hand. It's a little heavy but not impossible for me to maneuver.
I look over at the two men again and feel my heart sink. Chrom is bracing heavily against the other's strength. He's sunk back further under the other's weight and his arms are starting to shake under the stress. In these brief seconds the brigand has gained the advantage. Considering his leverage and extra bulk of muscle, I shouldn't be surprised.
I've got the situation on my side though. The brigand probably assumes me useless with no way to use my magic. It's also likely he has no idea I have the sword with me. Most magic users don't carry anything short of magic tomes so there's that element of surprise.
On top of that, Chrom has left the brigand's defenses compromised. With his axe caught overhead he has no physical way of protecting his torso unless he disengages from his grapple. I've got a clear shot no matter where I aim.
I struggle to my feet. Grasping the hilt with both hands, I hold the sword ahead of me and take a deep breath. Then, I charge.
My feet kick up rocks and I can hear my cloak flap against the wind. The sweat from my hands threatens to cause the sword to slide so I tighten my grip even harder. I keep my eyes locked on my target and block out everything else. The distance closes so fast that I can't even decide where to aim. I hear the sharp intake of my own breathe echo around me as I swing.
I'm not prepared for the resistance I encounter when the blade's edge cuts into skin. The short sword slices deeply into the middle of the man's torso but my momentum is not enough to carry through. It hits bone and the shock of it throws me off balance. I lose my hold on the weapon and fall to the side.
There is screaming. Lots of it. A cold shiver runs down my spine as the brigand's pained screeches hammer through my skull. The axe clatters to the ground as his body spins, arms flailing uselessly in an attempt to grab at the weapon sticking from his ribcage. Blood drips and spurts to the ground leaving a twisting pattern than compliments his spastic dance. I can't tear my eyes away from the sight.
Thankfully, the man's pain is cut short. Chrom delivers a merciful blow to his heart. It's almost instantaneous how quickly the man cuts into silence. He falls to the ground facing me and I find his now glassy void eyes staring deep into my own.
My stomach is twisting and pain throbs in my forehead. I've never felt this wrong before. I can still hear those screams. Screams that I caused. Pain I inflicted. I feel so empty and cold and numb.
I shouldn't have done this. I wasn't ready yet.
Shaking. My whole body is shaking. I hear a voice but it sounds miles away. I somehow tear my eyes away from the corpse.
It's Chrom. He's got a hold of both my shoulders and is looking at me with deep concern. I see his mouth move but the words are muffled.
My head suddenly feels like it's been split open and I feel hot. Flashes. There are flashes of something. The world fades into another and time splits into pieces. This. I can't handle this. I can't!
Something rolls in my stomach and I know what's coming. I wriggle from Chrom's grasp and roll over just as a torrent of vomit erupts forth. I heave excessively under the expulsion as my stomach unleashes wave after wave of bile.
Eventually the tide culls to some dry heaving and an acrid aftertaste in my mouth. There's a buzzing in my ears. I feel utterly weak. My arms give way under my weight and I nearly fall face first into my own throw up. Chrom catches me at last minute and pulls me back against the shade of a nearby stall.
I don't know what's happening but I hope it's a sign of me waking up from this nightmare. I can't believe I used to fantasize about something like this happening. None of this is what I pictured. This was no romanticized romp through magic land. This was the harsh realities of warfare and death, neither of which were pretty.
The world is still hazy but my senses seem to be recovering after that painful overload. My breathing is not as erratic and I find some courage to open my eyes. The light is sensitive on my retinas and I have to squint to avoid feeling dizzy again. I'm glad Chrom pulled me out of the direct sun.
Speaking of, boy does he look horrible. Never mind the fact that he already looks absolutely horrified thanks to my current state. I didn't notice it before but now, this close together, I can see he's clearly been taking a beating since his arrival in town. I'm not sure how many people he fought before I joined up with him and the others but there was definitely a skirmish or two involved. His hair was an utter mess and darkened with mud. There were several dried cuts on his exposed arm and dirt smudged all over his clothes. Oddly enough, he could still pass for being attractive despite looking utterly soiled. Must be one of those natural perks that comes with being royalty. I bet I look like a donkey's hindquarters.
"You back with me?" He still sounds miles away even though we're face to face.
I weakly nod. "Barely," I croak.
He sighs but I can still see the tension in his shoulders and the worry in his eyes. I shift to a more comfortable leaning position. I'm trying very hard to pull my nerves together but the dull ache in my abdominal muscles is distracting.
"I have to say," I force out, "that I am off to a lovely start."
Chrom doesn't laugh but he doesn't frown either. "Was that the first time you used a blade against another?"
"How'd you guess," I respond dryly.
I must look like such a fool. A hopeless, useless fool. Frederick was right earlier. There is a difference between thinking and doing during an actual battle. I was stupid to think I could actually handle the real deal. Playing video games and watching this on T.V. are nowhere near the actual experience of cutting into a man's flesh. On your couch you are still disjointed from the actual sensation of tearing into living tissue. Taking out an enemy A.I. is eons from actually helping to extinguish the life force of someone breathing before you. Watching the light fade from their eyes and seeing the blood flow forth...you have to be ready for the responsibility of it. I underestimated the power of taking a life. I treated the idea casually and it was now biting me in the ass.
I bring my hand to my face and rub it vigorously in an attempt to wipe away the tears forming.
"Robin, I need you to look at me."
I peer out at him from underneath my arm. He's looking at me straight on, dead serious.
"You're going to have to force these emotions down. I need you to focus solely on our objective right now. It's hard, I know. Gods do I know. This is not an easy burden to bear. If we're going to survive though I need you to be at my side wholly in body and mind. One slip up could be your last if you falter, understand?"
He's utterly and completely right of course. Why wouldn't he be? Ugh, I need to pull myself together. I just feel so stupid!
"Chrom I'm really sorry."
"I don't need apologies Robin. This isn't the time for regrets. What I need is your resolve and a steady hand. Can I count on that?"
"Yeah, I do. I just- SHIT!"
I barely catch the incoming blur over Chrom's shoulder. I lurch forward and dive into him slamming us both to the ground. I can feel the rush of air only centimeters from the tip of my head. Splinters shower over us as the wood behind us shatters under the impact of the weapon.
I can hear the brigand above us swear as he tugs on his lodged weapon. God damn it. It must be the one that had been roaming about on his own to the west. The sounds of the skirmish probably brought him over. I roll off Chrom and the two of us separate in opposite directions. He recovers faster than I and scrambles to his feet. He rises just as the other man pulls free.
Chrom moves quickly, lunging at the enemy. He catches the brigand around each of his wrists and uses his speed to propel them into the wall. The brigand grunts in pain as his arms are bashed against the solid oak. Chrom repeats the gesture slamming the other man's meaty limbs into the side until the axe loosens from his grasp.
The brigand may have lost his weapon but he still has his strength. He manages to shake an arm free and reel his elbow back into Chrom. His head snaps back under the force and he stumbles away clutching at his face.
Seeing the bandit ready to deliver another blow, I scramble over and kick out at his legs with my own. My foot catches the back of his kneecap and he buckles to the floor, tangling up our limbs in the process. I emit a noise of alarm as he snags my ankle. I twist my body onto my side and thrust my free heel into his face repeatedly. I hear a sickening crunch under the weight of my boot and I'm let go.
I scuttle away as he writhers on the ground. Blood pours freely from the pulpy mash that was once his nose.
I whip my head around and shout Chrom's name.
I see him hunched slightly to my left. When he hears my yell, his head jerks in my direction. There's blood on his face but I can't tell from where. When he sees the bandit on the ground he sprints forward. In one smooth motion he bends over and grabs the bandit by the collar. With one arm he drags the man up against the wall again and drives the other fist into his face. I wince under the brutal sight as he repeats the gesture once, twice, three times and then lets the brigand drop like a sack.
Chrom shakes his hand and then massages the area around his wrist. He glances down and nudges the body with his toe but gets no response. It would be astounding to see the man still conscious given the amount of force that was being driven behind those punches. I think it was clear he wasn't getting up anytime soon regardless if he was dead or still alive.
I quickly pat myself down in attempt to find the pocket with my map. I pull it out and activate the grid in an attempt to prevent any more surprises from coming down on us. Too my relief I see no enemies present in our vicinity. I pinch my fingers out and broaden the view to include the neighboring alleyways. All clean. We should be free of any ambushes from now on. I swipe to the right and am surprised to see Frederick and Lissa have not only cleared their area of the square but were now dispatching the mage near the bridge's entrance. Frederick was doing a good job proving his role as the game's early tank unit. I clear the scroll and roll it up. I finish returning it to the safety of my coat just as Chrom walks over.
He extends a hand and helps me to my feet. I look over at the body again and give a low whistle.
"Knocked him clean out."
"I'm just returning the favor."
I'm starting to feel a little loopy again so I tear my eyes away from the sight. I try to gather my thoughts and push out these ill feeling like Chrom said. It's so hard though. I mean I just crushed a man's nose. God I will be hearing that sound in my dreams for weeks. When I return my focus to my comrade I wince.
"Ooo, ouch." I don't mean to vocalize my alarm but that is one nasty cut on Chrom's cheek.
"That bad?" He raises a hand to the wound and wipes across it with his thumb. He flinches under the pressure as he traces the length of the cut. His glove tip darkens as he smears it with blood and dirt.
I narrow my eyes and bat his arm away. "Don't do that. You're getting it full of mud. Do you want it to get infected?" He goes to respond but I've already gathered up a length of my sleeve. I catch the one side of his face and hold it straight while I press the clean material on my other against the sore spot. I feel his jaw muscle twitch under my grasp as I gingerly try to wipe away the grime he managed to spread everywhere.
After a quick brush I pull my sleeve away. "There. Much better." The gash is already pooling up but at least the general area is clean again. The wound should be fine until we meet with Lissa. I shake out my clothing and try to ignore the crusty brown and red residue lining the creases.
Mid-shake I notice how uneasy he looks. He's keeps giving me funny glances I can't quite read. A heavy silence envelops the two of us. I try to ignore the weird aura as I continue to busy myself with straightening my coat.
"The area is secure," I say hastily hoping a change of topic will ease the situation. "I checked my map briefly. Frederick and your sister are already done. They're probably waiting for us at the bridge." I sneak a peek at him through my bangs but it's still hard to read his expression. "We better make our way over there before Frederick thinks I kidnapped you or something. I am not in the mood for his bad side right now."
"Right," he replies with a returned vigor. Whatever mood he was in before is gone now. He gives his wrist one more shake. "It's about time we end this."
"I agree." I'm about to follow after him when I notice my sword is missing. I swivel around and search for where it may have been and freeze when I do.
I can see it poking out from underneath the body of the brigand we fought. The hilt is barely sticking out teasing me just enough to know it's trapped there. I make an exasperated whine and shuffle over.
I try to block out the memories and the feelings that are threatening to well up inside of me. I train my eyes on the sword's handle attempting to think of nothing else. I need to keep my emotions in check. I have to prove to myself that I can do this. When I reach the body's side I promptly lean over and grasp the weapon.
I pull and feel resistance. I tug harder and it slides an inch or so. I place my other hand around the hilt and now begin to pull with most of my body weight. I lean back further and further on my heels as I try to angle the sword out. It finally gives way and I hop back trying to find my balance. The blade comes up dripping wet with bits of gristle sticking to the edges. My nose wrinkles in disgust at the sight and I curse all my luck. I step around the corpse and use the hanging edge of a shop stall's curtain to wipe off the nasty bits. Mostly cleaned, I slide it back into the scabbard.
I force my eyes forward. My pace has picked up to a brisk walk as I cross the space to Chrom's waiting form.
"You feeling alright?"
He must have been watching, waiting to see if I had another panic attack. I nod firmly and brush the handle at my side.
"I'm trying to block it out like you said. I think it's starting to work."
"Good." He motions toward the north. "We should meet up with the others. It won't take long."
"Right behind you."
We make our way to the meeting spot where we find Frederick and Lissa waiting. Before we can even get a word in Lissa plunks both of us down and begins looking over our injuries. She definitely has a few chastising words to say about our encounter after Chrom finishes recounting our side of things. I imagine she picked up a thing or two from Frederick in the lecture department after years of being on the receiving end herself. She doesn't dig into me too bad. Just some remarks about aiming my magic better. Chrom though, that was a different story. The whole time she worked on him she let loose a barrage of disapproving comments. Frederick said nothing but I could see the slightest shake of his head in approval at everything his Lady was saying.
"I still can't believe how reckless you were after that lecture you gave me earlier. You are such a hypocrite Chrom!" Lissa huffs as she applies her healing skills to the wound on his face. "You're lucky he didn't break your nose.
I blanche at her words. I can still feel the sensation of my heel cracking cartilage. I redirect my thoughts to the cuts on my arm or, should I say, the lack thereof. I rotate my right forearm and admire Lissa's handiwork. With her magic it was only seconds before the tiny scratches had mended and disappeared completely. The surface is smooth with no indication of me having been previously in a duel for my life. This healing stuff is pretty ridiculous.
Lissa sighs and lowers her staff. She takes a step back and studies her patient. "Okay, I think that does it." She leans her staff in the crook of her arm and then slaps her hands together as if wiping off some imaginary dust. "As for my bill I will require one large cream puff upon our arrival home. I will have no more than one cup of syrup on the side and five teaspoons of sugar atop it."
"Alright Lissa. Whatever you want. Just make sure you don't go dreaming about it until after the battle is over."
"Duh, of course not. I'd have to be alive to enjoy it."
"Right you are." Chrom rises to his feet and stretches his newly healed muscles. "Well, I feel ready to take down a bandit chief. How about you all?"
"I wouldn't mind ending this ordeal personally," I say.
"I believe Robin stated the chieftain resides over the bridge," Frederick says. "Now will be as good a time as any to pursue this given our refreshed status. Shall we?"
"Yeah, let's do it!" Lissa cheers.
The church looms overhead casting us in its shadow as we dash across the expanse. The building is even more regal up close. It is constructed of white marble all the way around. The roof tapers off into a single tower tipped with a belfry. The large glass window inset upon the front of the tower depicts the twisting form of a white dragon spiraled around a sword. My best guess is that it represented Naga, the divine dragon.
"Over there, look! It's him! He's by the entrance!" Lissa shouts.
Standing in broad view outside of the church's entrance is, by far, the most foul looking of the bandits yet. The bandit chief stands a good six and a half feet tall packed to the gills with muscle. A downwind drafts carries the sting of his stench with it and I wrinkle my nose in disgust. His oily hair and grimy skin didn't help the image.
Garrick, if I remember his name right, is surrounded on all sides with goods from the church. Boxes of gold, shining effigies, and priceless art line the stairwell. He leans casually against the banister and surveys a hand painted vase with little enthusiasm. He turns it in his hands and spits out of the corner of his mouth.
Our approaching footsteps grab his attention from his little artshow.
"Well, well. What do we got here?"
Garrick lets the pottery drop to his feet causing it to smash apart in all directions. He reaches over to the axe leaning up against the wall and hefts it over his shoulder. His gaze roves over each of us stopping in particular on Chrom. He puts on a lop-sided grin and beckons us with his free hand.
"So the Shepherds have finally come back to wrangle their sheep. It's a shame the wolves got to them first. Their hides will bring in a pretty penny."
"Flaming dastard..." Chrom hisses. His grip on Falchion tightens and he slide it out with one smooth motion.
"I can think of a far better name than that," I reply as I adjust my own handle on the tome in my hands.
"So what's the plan guys?" Lissa whispers.
"Try pinning him into the corner where the church wall meets the stone fence," I say as I subtly point out the junction to them. "Frederick and Chrom can box him in from the sides and I can come up the front. He won't have anywhere to run and we'll have him surrounded on all sides." The plan is actually reminiscent of what happened earlier to myself back at the square. Alone and without backup, we'll have a numbers advantage on him.
"Sounds fair. Are you all ready?" Chrom asks. The rest of us give a collective nod. Time to move.
I break first from our group and charge ahead whipping out my spell book. I can feel the air surge to life around me as I focus on the charge building in my hand.
Up ahead Garrick lets out a wild howl. His stance shifts and he readies his axe. "It's about damn time! Come on over and join the slaughter!"
The air explodes as energy surges up through the tips of my fingers. I see Garrick's frame start to sway left and I alter the flick of my wrist at the last second. My angle shifts just enough to change the bolt's path and I'm pleased to see it veer right into him.
Garrick skids on his heels and throws his arms back. The magic is almost on him when he swings downward in a wide arc. The axe connects with the bolt and slices right through it. There is a loud pop as my attack is dissolved midair.
A gust of wind blows to my right and a bright blur speeds past. Garrick has little time to gloat over his success as two hundred pounds of steel and horsepower bare down on him. Frederick changes course and rounds to the left of the bandit. His spear flashes in the light as the tip just misses its target. Our enemy stumbles back in the other direction away from the knight's planned feint. He takes a wild swing to put space between the two of them. Not aware of his surroundings, he backs further and further into the wall.
"Let's go!" I hear Chrom shout.
He runs in a broad circle aiming to cover bandit chief's other side while I make a rush up the center. Garrick doesn't even know his mistake as he attempts to retreat. Frustration reflects on his face as he finds Falchion's point to his right and my tome blocking his path up front. It's when he spins around and finds the six foot wall to his back that he finally realizes what's been done.
He snarls like some rapid dog and shifts his axe between both hands. "Alright. Which one of you all is first?" His bloodshot eyes sweep over us. They settle on Chrom and he points. "How about you boy? Let's see if you're as cracked up as the stories say you are."
"It'd be a pleasure."
Chrom rushes the man without another word. The legendary sword cuts downward aiming for Garrick's legs. The other man twirls the axe and blocks the blade with its side. Falchion rebounds and Chrom twists sideways to regain his footing. He follows through with a straight-up thrust to his opponent's torso.
Garrick hops to the side letting out a grunt as he raises his axe. He pivots on his heel and swings in a wide horizontal arc. Chrom ducks at the last second and rolls under it. He scrambles to his feet and attempts an overhead blow directed at the other man's back. Garrick is too quick, however. He draws his weapon up and over his head catching the tip of Falchion on its underside. His whole body spins forward as Chrom disengages and attempts another attack from the lower left. Garrick parries the blow and the two separate to regain their footing.
This time Garrick makes the first move. He charges forward and takes a chop down and to the side. As Chrom meets the blow with a parry I see his mistake in doing so. He's extending his reach too far leaving his whole torso open and unguarded.
Before I can even shout out in warning Garrick lashes out with his free arm. He drives his fist into Chrom's gut causing him to double over. The brigand catches the stumbling prince by the collar and lifts him into the air.
"That the best ya got, boy?"
"Milord!" Frederick cries out as he spurs his horse forward. He readjusts his weapon and points it straight for the bandit's lower torso.
Garrick's body bends sideways as the lance point pierces the air where he once stood. Faster than I thought him possible, he drops his weapon and reaches out grasping the wooden pole. Frederick lets out a surprised yell as he is nearly ripped from his saddle. I watch on dumbfounded as the knight fights to pull back his weapon. Garrick's arm muscles bulge as he keeps a solid hold on the base. He lets out a bawdy laugh as Frederick struggles in one arm and Chrom does on the other.
I hear a female shriek and realize it's Lissa.
"Robin! We have to help them!"
"I can't! If I use the tome I'll end up hitting them too!"
"Not magic! Use your other weapon!" She starts slapping her left hip.
My other...? Frederick's sword!
I draw the weapon forth and instantly feel queasy. Dried blood is caked along the edges of the sword. My mind flashes back to the bandit in the square and instantly my body feels hollow.
"Hurry!"
"Gaaaah," I moan pathetically. I can't do this now. I have to find my focus just like I was told. Just don't think about what you're doing. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think.
I run at the bandit with the sword held high.
"What the-?!" Garrick's laughter is cut short when he seems me sprinting at him. He quickly dislodges from Frederick's spear and twists his whole body around launching Chrom at the knight. Gertie panics at the sudden impact and the knight frantically pulls at the reins to calm her before she tramples the younger man beneath them.
I'm nearly on the chief so I begin to swing my blade down from over my head. To my surprise, he has wheeled all the way around and brought both of his massive arms up. They clap together and catch the sword mid strike. I blink in surprise. Did he seriously just do that? Motherf-
Garrick's head jerks forward and his grip slackens allowing me to slip free. I hop back a good ways and see his head snap to the side as something smashes into it from behind.
"Stop."
THWACK.
"Hurting."
THWACK.
"My."
THWACK.
"FRIENDS!"
Garrick stumbles with his hands grasping at his head. Behind his hunched form I can see Lissa. She takes another crack as his head with her staff. The chieftain reaches out and catches it causing her to squeak. Distracted by Lissa, I decide to charge him while I have the chance.
This time my sword makes contact. I swing sideways and the tip digs deep into his forearm. Blood immediately flows from the cut and the metallic smell burns my nose. I pull back and dance around him toward Lissa. I place myself between the two of them intent to protect her however I could.
"You little whore," he snarls. His bad arm hangs limply at his side and his torn sleeve is dyed red from the streams leaking down it. He reaches toward his axe with his good one and grabs a hold of it. I can feel myself start to panic. There is no way I would be able to hold back the weight of that axe if it came down on me, even with the sword.
I hear Lissa's sharp intake of breath behind me. I back up half a step and get ready to move. I have no idea what I can do but I'll just have to improvise.
Before I can start to strategize Garrick goes crazy. It starts with the axe going slack in his raised arm. His face switches from confusion, to shock, and then contorts into pain. A tremor runs through his whole body as he lets out a piercing scream of pain. I push Lissa and myself out of the way as he tries to spin around. It's then that I notice red spurting from his shoulder and the heavy shaft poking out of it.
"Now milord!"
Garrick let's out another agonized wail as he is impaled all the way up Falchion's blade. I quickly turn my head away and cover my mouth. Lissa lets out a tiny "Ew" behind me.
The sound of tearing flesh fills the air and the man's screams finally stop. My eyes flicker to the side and I see his monstrous body slide down the divine sword's edge. Chrom shoves the body off the rest of the way with his heel and Garrick hits the ground unmoving.
Lissa darts around me and throws herself at her brother. "Chrom! You're okay!"
He catches her with one arm and wraps her up in a hug. "Of course I am. It'll take more than one wretched bandit to knock me down." He pulls back and holds her at length. "How are you though?"
"I'm fine. You got him before he was able to do anything."
"That's a relief." He smiles at her fondly and ruffles her hair. "Nice staff work by the way."
She giggles. "Told you I was no delicate flower."
"So you did. Let's try to keep the heroics to a minimum though, okay? I don't need to make our beloved older sister anymore anxious than she already is about your safety."
"She would not be the only one," I hear Frederick say under his breath as he pulls his lance from the arm of the dead man. To my surprise, he actually glances in my direction. "You are whole and able as well I presume?"
"For the most part," I wave weakly. I feel shaky and will probably end up vomiting again at some point given the state of my stomach. Otherwise, all my body parts are intact. A solid win I would say.
I hear a shout and turn. On the other side of the bridge two men are standing with their arms full of bags. From the ragged wear on their clothing, I could easily guess who they were affiliated with. Before I can react, they turn and bolt the other way.
"Did you see something?" Chrom questions me.
"Yeah, a couple of bandits. But they ran off pretty quick when they saw us."
"Running off after seeing their fallen leader no doubt," Frederick comments. "The rest of these brigands should follow soon after once word reaches them. How easily their sense of camaraderie falls once the leader is slain."
Out of curiosity, I snatch up my tactician map from the inner pocket of my coat and unfurl it. I touch the surface and watch the layout appear. I drag two fingers apart as if to zoom out. The area expands and I can see the town's entirety. Most of the remaining red dots are located in the lower left near one of the exits. I see two lone dots moving through the streets toward the rest and can easily assume those are the men I just saw. I curl the map back up and tuck it away once more.
"Frederick's probably right. Most of them are already on the outskirts of town. If they weren't already on their way out now, they will be soon."
Chrom leans down and uses part of Garrick's shirt to wipe off the blood from his sword. "Just to make sure, we'll make a sweep of the town. The militia was also out but scattered. We'll need to gather them together along with any survivors."
"A sound plan."
"Okay by me Chrom."
"Right."
Our leader sheathes Falchion and gestures toward the church. We climb the stairs and begin to search through for any folks who may have been inside. A quick run through reveals several clergy and healers who had barricaded themselves into the living quarters. When they hear the bandits have dispersed, they quickly come out and offer their aid. Now with a larger group we can cover more ground. We split into teams of two with the siblings on one end and Frederick and I in another to provide support if we run into a lone straggler looking for more goods. I check my map every so often but by the next hour the red dots have all dispersed.
Time goes by in a blur as I go house to house calling out survivors. I run into more than my share of grisly scenes. These bandits were merciless in some cases. I have the misfortune of stumbling upon one unfortunate family in a broken abode, children included. Suffice to say, whatever I may have had left in my stomach was gone after that. I'm not sure how long I hid behind those barrels heaving in my own waste. When I emerged sometime later no one said a word.
The good tended to outweigh the bad though. Many of the villagers were successful in finding hiding places or barring their doors. A good number on the east side were still out in the fields and managed to escape to the woods until we found them there. We gathered who we could together and sorted them out for the healers by severity of injury. Between that and reuniting the broken fragments of families, I barely notice that the sun had journeyed almost all the way across the sky. It was late afternoon when Frederick and I reunite with our other half of the group.
Chrom and Lissa are joined by the village's mayor. He greets Frederick and I with a thorough hand shake and numerous words of gratitude. When he finally lets go my wrist feels like jelly.
"You truly are our saviors! Who knows what else may have happened had that foul man lived any longer! More of us may have been lost without your timely intervention."
"I only wish we could have avoided this entirely," Chrom frowned.
"As do we all milord. Such events grow more frequent now. It is hard not to go a day without hearing some sort of skirmish associated with a Plegian group," Frederick comments.
"Aye. They don't even try to hide the accent anymore. They've wholly given up on the subtler tactics they've once used," the mayor agrees somberly.
"Accents?" I whisper to myself in confusion. They didn't sound all that different to me personally. Stupider maybe, but not different.
I suppose it's because I'm now aware of it as opposed to before, but as I pay closer attention to those speaking around me I can detect just the slightest of differences in the speech patterns. There's a broader range of intonation in their pronunciation and I catch harsher stresses on syllables than what I am used to. It's not obvious but it's there.
Lissa's indignant whine breaks me from my thoughts. I'm pretty sure Frederick just told her we're leaving without those generous portions of steak she wanted.
"He's a real stick in the mud," I snicker to the other girl.
"That's one way of putting it," Lissa grumps.
"I can hear you," Frederick states throwing us a dark look.
The two of us duck behind Chrom using him as a human shield. "He's scary too," I add.
"He's at his best when his enemies cower before him."
"Milord please. Do not encourage them."
"I have no idea what you mean Frederick," Chrom says innocently. Lissa and I laugh in unison.
Frederick's eyes narrow. "Amusing as this may be for you all, we should get going. Darkness will befall us soon."
"You're right. The faster we can get to capital, the faster we can get supplies to the villagers here."
Frederick takes the lead and the three of us follow. I feel a little guilty about leaving the town while it was still recuperating but more good would come out of getting relief from the capital than by working here ourselves.
As we leave the square many people call out and wave to us. There are many shouts of thanks and equal amounts of praise. It follows us through the town and to the outskirts where more villagers continue to trickle in. I wonder how it will be in the capital. Surely the Shepherds are even more known there. I bet they get this attention in tenfold.
"Miss! Miss, please wait!"
The whole group stops and turns toward the cries. A stout woman in a healer's garb hustles up and, to my surprise, stops before me. She quickly readjusts the hat slipping down her forehead.
"Praise be to the gods that I was able to catch you. I'm afraid these old legs can't run like they used to," she adds with a chuckle.
"Uh huh." I blink in confusion. "Did you need me?"
She clasps her hands and bows her head. "Indeed I do. One of my patients has been asking for you. She wanted to thank you for your help."
"Thank me?"
She grasps my left arm and begins to drag me toward the field. Despite her size she has a very strong grip and I find myself unable to shake her off. I look over my shoulder at my companions and give them a pleading look. Lissa appears utterly bemused at the situation and her brother offers little help as well in the form of a half-shouldered shrug. Frederick, as always, glares on in apathy. Thanks guys.
I'm lead toward a grouping of survivors from the village. Various members of the church work about on the injured. Some of the village folk are better off than others and do what they can to help. It's astounding to see how much they've bounced back in the aftermath of such a horrific event. It's rather inspiring. It goes to show you just how strong human will can be in the face of survival.
The woman's pace begins to slow near the middle of the makeshift camp. We come to a halt before a fire pit surrounded by cots. She gestures toward a specific one on the left with her hand.
"Ginette, darling, I've brought the young lady for you."
She pats my arm reassuringly and then wanders off to another patient on the other side of the circle. There's a rustle of cloth and blankets fold back to reveal the person underneath. My eyes widen when I see the familiar face staring back at me.
Ginette is the woman I encountered when I first got to town!
"Hello there," she murmurs weakly.
"Hi," I respond quietly.
She tries to smile but it disappears quickly as she strains to sit upright. I can see lots of bandages underneath the neckline of her thin dress and what's not covered is bruised purple. On the bright side, the swelling on her eye has all but disappeared and I can see a multitude of her cuts have been healed in some degree.
"I'm sorry for pulling you away from your companions so quickly. I was just so relieved to see you unharmed. I was afraid of what may have happened after you were chased off by that wretched man."
"Nah, it's good. I got some back up from the Shepherds there," I say as I gesture behind me. "You won't have to worry about that bastard either. He won't be hurting anyone ever again. They made sure of it."
She presses her hand to her lips as she chuckles lightly. "The Shepherds? Then we were truly blessed today. They are a good people. You are lucky to have such friends."
I shift awkwardly under the praises. I'm not use to such positive feedback from another person. It's really embarrassing. I quickly attempt to change the topic before my whole face goes red.
"That boy that was with you, he's your son right? Is he okay?"
Her eyes brighten and she smiles a little broader. "Yes, yes he is. That's my Tomas over there." She gestures to a young lad bundled in white blankets and being tended to by a male healer. It's hard to tell with him wrapped up so thoroughly but I see movements under the folds. It's good to see him conscious after having seen what he endured earlier.
"Would you look at that," I muse. "Up already. He's a strong one."
"Yes he is. He's just like his father in that way."
A heavy silence settles between us. Ginette's hands grasp at the sheets and twist them about. I see her bite down at the corner of her mouth as her gaze turns elsewhere. My heart breaks because I know she's thinking about her husband. I wonder if his body is still in their home.
I hesitantly reach out and place my hand on her shoulder, giving a comforting squeeze. It's really all I can do. Words can't do much when you are faced with a loss so close to your heart. The condolences only ring hollow in the void left behind. Losing a loved one is a traumatic wound and there will always be a scar. Time is truly the only thing that will heal it. So I know it's useless to waste words on Ginette. The best I can do if offer my silent support.
She gives a large sniff and then pats my hand gently. When she looks at me I can see her blink back tears that hang at the corner of her eyes.
"Thank you. It will be hard but I will manage. I have my boy still, thanks to you. That is all I could hope for at this point. I must simply be strong for us both now."
She wipes an eye with her palm. "I'm sorry for keeping you here. I just really had to thank you. I only wish there was something else I could offer in return besides my gratitude."
I feel my face flush again and I try my best to brush it off. "Really, don't worry about it. I just did what any person would do."
"Then I can only pray there are more people like you in the world."
I'm about to answer when I hear my name called. I turn and see Lissa waving her hands over her head.
"It seems I've kept you too long. I will let you get back to your companions."
"Guess so. I'm glad you and Tomas are alright though. You'll pull through just fine." I give a little wave of my hand and begin to depart.
"Oh!" I stop mid-turn when she catches my attention. "I never even asked your name!"
"Robin."
Ginette repeats my name to herself and then gives a final smile. "Thank you for everything Robin. Truly. Know that you are always welcome in my home should you need a place to rest."
"Good luck Ginette."
As I walk back to the group I feel calmer than I've been since this whole ordeal began. For all the hell I've been through these last hours, this somehow made up for it.
"So what was that about?" Lissa inquires as I finally converge upon the group.
"Nothing really."
"That seemed like a long time for nothing," Chrom states as we all begin walking down the road.
"Indeed," Frederick sniffs.
I shoot the knight an annoyed look. "She was thanking me for helping her earlier."
"Oh? What'd you end up doing?" Lissa asks beside me.
I summarize to them what happened during my time before we joined up. They listen patiently as I go through getting lost, finding the bandit, and then getting saved in the marketplace.
"Wow Robin," Lissa exclaims as I end my recounting, "that was really awesome of you!"
"I would think it more of a reckless act. You are incredibly lucky to have escaped unscathed after such a rash decision."
"Come on Frederick, don't be like that. She saved them. I would think that makes her a hero, just like us!"
Lissa has the strongest soul I have ever seen because I would have positively withered under the look Frederick was giving her right now.
"Whether it was foolish or heroic," Chrom finally chimes in, "matters little now. What remains is the fact that Robin saved two lives today. I find that of better merit to focus on."
"Not really," I interject. "It's probably nothing compared to what you all do every day."
"Ha! No need to be bashful about it. It's no small feat what you accomplished today. I'd say you have as much right to boast as any of us here."
"Yeah! If I didn't know better, I would think you were a Shepherd just like us," Lissa grins.
"I hardly think that makes me qualify as one of you Lissa."
"Actually, that just might." Chrom folds his arms over his chest and tilts his head in contemplation.
"Whatcha thinking about Brother?"
"What you said right now Lis, about Robin and looking like a Shepherd."
This catches both Frederick's and my attention. We both look at him startled.
"Milord, you cannot seriously mean to...!"
"Considering her current state of being and what I've seen today, I think it's fair to make the offer." Chrom wheels around and I stop abruptly to prevent slamming into him. I can already tell from the look on his face what he's about to say.
"How would you feel about joining the Shepherds? It need not be a permanent arrangement mind you. You would be free to retire whenever. I simply believe that it would be a beneficial arrangement for all of us while you are still recovering your memories."
"Um." I'm shocked into an utter loss for words. He really thinks I have enough worth to be a Shepherd?
I feel a tug at my shoulder sleeve and see Lissa looking up eagerly at me. "Come on Robin. You should! You were the total package today. Brains, bravery, AND big magical booms! You'd be a perfect fit," she adds with a wink.
"May I interject in the name of logic for a moment," Frederick exclaims. "While I respect your opinions and acknowledge Robin's bravado, may I remind you of how little we truly know of her. We have known her not even a day and are utterly clueless as to her origin or motives. All we have is her word on such matters. Is that enough for you?"
Chrom nods. "I trust her story and her word. My heart believes so and that is enough for my decision."
I'm taken back by how sure he sounds. When our eyes meet I can see that he believes what he says wholeheartedly. I suddenly feel really shy and wish my hood was up so I could bury my face in it.
"How can I say no after an admission like that," I laugh nervously. "Why not?"
Chrom extends a hand and I meet his with my own. He grasps it firmly and gives it a good shake. "Welcome to the Shepherds Robin."
Lissa lets out a little cheer and pumps a fist in the air. Frederick looks less thrilled than the siblings. He mutters something and reins in his horse.
"If you are at all willing to listen to any common sense today than let it be now. Night is fast approaching and I advise we break camp before the sun fully sets. We may yet find a decent grove to camp in if we hurry."
He gives his steed a kick and it begins to trot down the road.
"Tch. He gets so sour when nobody listens to him. What a baby," Lissa mutters. She knocks a rock into the grass with her boot and then follows after him. "Come on guys."
"That's Frederick the Wary for you," Chrom sighs. He makes after his sister with me right behind.
"I'm glad you agreed Robin," he calls back to me. "I have a feeling that with a tactician like you in the Shepherds we'll be able to do great things."
I smile and silently follow his lead. I reeling from the whole encounter. I'm happy and nerved and determined all at once. So much has happened in this first day but I somehow survived. There's a lot I'm going to have to learn both physically and psychologically. The battles will only get worse from here out and I'm going to have to adapt with it. This is real life, I know this now. However it happened, my reality has reversed but the rules are still the same. Death is game over. There is no going back. Mistakes will be permanent and I can't afford that.
I'm going to have become a true tactician or die trying. That's all there is to it.
A/N Hello to all my stealthy readers. Thank you for taking the time to peek in on this. I would also like to thank the followers who have shown interest in this. And to my four reviewers, I would like to give a special shout-out to you. Thank you for taking the time to review! I'm glad all four of you have enjoyed the content so far. It means I'm doing something right and that's all I could wish for.
As for the chapter, let me just say that the fight scenes were hard (but fun!) to write. I hope they came across well. Robin is coming into this utterly unprepared so I wanted to portray just how much of an amateur she was. Her reliance on the other Shepherds and how they teach her is going to be a fundamental part of her character arc.