Disclaimer - I don't own Fire Emblem. All of its properties belong to Nintendo and Intelligent Systems.
Chapter 18
Curiosity is destroying me.
I stare at the two cards in the corner of my desk where they sit mocking me. It's been a day since I discovered them and I'm dying to summon both of the heroes. There's one tiny problem in doing so however. When I activate these cards, they create a blasted magic funnel.
Apparently, these cards must draw from the magic stream around them to sustain themselves. Remember how I could feel the magic sucking into Marth when he first appeared? Well imagine how that must have felt to those even more sensitive to the pull, like Miriel and Ricken.
Those two came blasting out of the archives trying to figure out the very large disturbance in the force. The wards in the archives were a saving grace for me because it messed up their senses, making it hard to tell where the magical outburst had happened. I feigned ignorance in my own inexperience as a mage and watched them talk between themselves on the possible scenarios. Ten hypothesis and a declaration for experimentation later, the two had all sorts of explanations in mind. I was severely lucky the wards were in place or I would have had some explaining to do.
I could just wait for them to leave on their trip. But even then, another problem arises. I need to find a private place to summon them, and one that has lots of space. If these Einherjar are summoned as they are on the card, Caeda's going to appear with a pegasus at her side. Trying to call her here in my tiny hovel is going to end with a pegasus butt hanging out my window. That will require even more explaining!
My hand inches for them and I have to force myself to retract it. I am dying to talk to them! Luckily, I have this Robin's notes to keep me engaged in the mean time.
This thing is a gold mine. I've never actually stopped to read the information in my map during battles due to time restraints. Sitting back and digesting the info dump in the Roster here has made me regret it. There's some really deep stuff in here!
Other Robin has a power of observance that I could only dream of. She could just look at someone and notice the tiniest nuances. Apparently Garrick, the bandit chief we fought back in Southtown, had a minor limp on his left leg. She noticed the problem as well as the visible bandages seen through the cuts in his pant leg. She probably exploited that in past cycles to further cripple the already healing injury and give her the advantage. I suppose that explained why he wanted us to come to him in the duel. He couldn't move as fast as he liked because of the injury.
It's not just the enemies either. The Shepherds have some crazy information archived on them. Whatever they joked about in the Roster Rescue level has some merit here! Incidentally, I can't help but get a growing feeling of guilt in the back of my mind. I feel like I'm breaching privacy by reading all these intimate details.
The whole first half of this thing is just filled with entries that correspond to the map. The key players have their own pages. For general enemies, they seem to stem from a single anchor point for reference. For example, other Robin made only one page for grunt Risen. Regardless of their unique appearances, the picture box that will pop up on the map for each dot will be the generic one she sketched in the book. It makes sense given that it's only for identification purposes. You can't make a unique page for every different grunt you one-off. That'd be a waste of space and paper.
Her subsection filled with unique important figures, such as Emmeryn and Gangrel, never refer to them as allies in battle. I guess the Paralogues never happened here. That sucks, considering I abused the heck out of Aversa and Priam. Maybe I can still change that?
Pouring through these pages has been time-consuming. I started as soon as I arrived back from the library yesterday and sat straight through dinner reading page after page. Falling asleep at my desk, I woke up in the same spot and continued where I left off, barring a bathroom break and breakfast. I've been pouring through the text trying to find any clues I can. I'm afraid I might miss something so I'm checking every page. But so far I've only bulked up my information on battle strategies among my allies. That's not bad! It's just not what I intended.
I now find myself rapidly flipping through the map section. While interesting, most of these would be a waste of time given I won't be seeing them for months or even years. Maybe never if luck comes my way and I can get home. Please.
God, what I wouldn't give to be back in my own bed. I miss proper mattresses. Yesterday I remembered the cliff hanger to a favorite tv series I was watching. I can't help but wonder if I'll ever find out what happened after the big explosion. Who lived? Why blow up the hospital? It'd be a pretty shallow thing to worry about back home but here...here it's a painful reminder of nostalgia.
A nigh blank page breaks my lingering homesickness. It's a page break with a title for the next section. This is a whole new paper texture and the ink looks different from the prior section. This must have been a later edition to the original book. Huh, what's it say here?
Parent/Child Relations
Awwwwww shit. Jackpot.
My pointer finger and thumb hover on the corner of the page, my stomach filling with eager butterflies. This is crazy. Spoiler city! Turning this page is going to tell me who got down and dirty with who. And it will answer a burning question I felt too personal to ask Lucina.
Who's Chrom's baby momma?
Ah, but is it right to know? Will exposing myself to these secrets before hand cause a problem in the future? Couldn't I very well negate a relationship by unintentionally screwing it up with this foreknowledge? Perhaps I should skip this and wait for time to do its thing.
Nah.
Show me your secrets! I flip the page with mirthful glee.
My heart nearly jumps out of my chest and I jerk back in my chair. The-the hell is this?
Red ink criss-crosses both pages in jagged, bleeding lines that imitate the slash marks of a knife across skin. Words in a darker ink are barely legible underneath the maddened markings. Apart from the frantic attempts to block out the sentences, a single word appears over and over amidst the chaos.
TRAITOR TRAITOR TRAITOR TRAITOR
TRAITOR TRAITOR TRAITOR TRAITOR
TRAITOR TRAITOR TRAITOR TRAITOR
TRAITOR TRAITOR TRAITOR...
Over and over again the word is burned into the paper, glaring me in the face with its searing brand. I feel queasy looking at it. I don't know why but there's just this aura of hate emanating from the paper. Deep-rooted glaring hate. It's disturbing.
"Okay," I say to no one in particular, "Someone clearly had an issue or two."
Despite the uneasy feeling starting to settle in my chest, I try not to cringe in horror as I lean in to decipher the entry masked beneath the lines. It's really hard though. Whatever was on these pages caused Robin to fly into such a rage that she practically wiped the contents from reality. But what though?
I can make out a word here and there. Let's see. I think that's a...so that would be an 'v'? Nope, it's a 'w'. And this is...Why are there columns? Names and columns? Lots of notes too. Dammit other Robin! Why are you making this so hard?
I rest my hand against my cheek as I look at the paper. I stare so hard at it that the lines are starting to blur together. A part of me is dying to know what is hiding under this madness. Give me your secrets you dumb book! What did she want to erase?
There's a pressure in the middle of my forehead, something familiar to the countless times it happened before. My hand slides up, cradling the pressure spot as I try to withhold my whine of pain. The world blurs again and splits as if my vision just went bad. The paper tears into two illusions before me, wavering before coming together into a fuzzy picture.
Rage. Unbridled and fiercer than a wildfire.
Failure again. It doesn't matter what I do. All I feel is failure and disgust.
This isn't my fault. It was never my fault. Only his.
No. No, it is thoughts like that which allowed me to fall in the first place. I am at fault. This is my punishment for allowing myself to become some decorated puppet dancing to another's will. I traded my freedom for a painted face and the illusion of power. There is no peace in a world riddled with hypocrisy and self-preservation. Only the strongest are to survive. The favored over the weak.
I draw my quill against the paper, the rapid sound of ink scritch-scratching across the paper.
Another child lost. But I am beyond care.
Like the monsters who laughed behind their ivory smiles, I have become one of them. What is a child's life to me when it no longer bears use to the cause.
Cynthia has joined the other three in oblivion. The dear, sweet naïve creature that is her mother will never have to worry for the product of her shame any longer. Her fate sealed against Gangrel's crooked sword, she will never birth that base-born daughter of hers again.
The quill tip snaps as I realize how hard I dig into the final cut. Are these tears on my face?
Hysterical laughter bursts forth from me, startling the birds at my inn window. Is this regret?
I truly am a disgusting beast.
What is the point of this? Why record these changes any longer? How many cycles have I spun anew trying to attain the inevitable. At first these changes were amusing to watch unfold. Lovers cheating upon their spouses unknowingly with others. Children bearing the facial features of Shepherds who were once called "Aunt" or "Uncle," not "Father" or "Mother."
But now I feel the opposite. Emptiness.
I reach for a new quill and realize my hand is shaking. Names and faces swim before my vision. No. Do not think of them as people. These are no longer your friends. No longer family. Only more pawns scurrying along the board at the beck and call of the king.
The new quill dips into the ink and emerges fully coated. My vision begins to cloud into a red haze.
The king.
The damnable king.
Selfish. Manipulating. Vile. Fanatical. Shallow. Damnable. Traitor!
The last word manifests upon the paper bringing life to my thoughts. That's right. Traitor is the word.
I scrawl the word again across the paper. And again. And again. I let the word become the fuel of my passion and hatred. Destroyer of everything I hold dear. Filthy lying TRAITOR!
"FUCK!"
The memory shatters into sparks before my eyes, leaving me drained and confused. I gasp out loud, a shuttering half sob half choke. The desk is cold against my cheek and my face is wet. I raise my head and wipe across it with the back of my hand. Tears mar the surface of my skin in excess.
This page...
Robin was keeping track of the changes in the Shepherds' lives. Who married who. Who produced what child. Everything.
I saw...I saw Chrom at the top. In the next column where his wife would be is a long list of scribbles with equally violent scratches through each name. In the next column I can see the "L" of Lucina's name. The second one after that is ripped into so hard that a hole was made. Afterwards it seems like Lucina is the only name repeated again for each cycle.
Lissa is next and her name is not nearly as badly damaged as her brother's. I can still see it under the lines, though the rest of her family is lost.
Some things I saw were vastly different from the game. Sumia and Sully never had a spouse, only a child. Cordelia never married a Shepherd. Noire seemed to exist on and off until disappearing completely. Some Shepherds even changed spouses several times over. Again, most of it is indecipherable having been lost to the violent marks or words written over them. Oddly enough, none are as badly hacked as Chrom's family is.
I'm fairly alarmed at this. I don't know if this thought stems from my own guessing or is an echo of suggestion from my flashback. Something in me thinks, or more accurately knows, that all this aggression is centered on him. Other Robin's anger, the word "Traitor", the extreme attack on his entry...
"What happened to you two?" I murmur to myself.
Did I mention I feel nauseous now? I am. Mega-gut wrenching is occurring here. I'm so confused and that trippy adventure to angst-ville didn't help. I feel like a wreck. I push out of the chair and wander over to the window. With a quick flip of the lock, I push open the shutter and breath in the fresh gust of afternoon air.
The breeze rustles Bobbette's leaves, causing them to wave in greeting. I poke her leaf affectionately and pull her over into a little hug.
My mind is such a mess. This is just not helping. On top of other Robin now going aggro on her allies, I've still got to worry about Plegia banging on our door and Maribelle's possible abduction.
For the record, I could be freaking out over nothing. Maybe Maribelle won't be abducted for another month. The trio could make it back in time and all will go according to plan, no muck-ups to deal with. Or maybe Plegia is waiting to act because of how bad the roads are. Maybe they don't want to risk the Risen?
Let's be honest here. That's just wishful thinking.
Gangrel will bulldoze through anything just to get that Fire Emblem.
Nope, I think I'm going to just panic. My gut has never steered me wrong, especially when it's twisting in such a way it feels like I'm recuperating from an office burrito party. Daaaaanger!
I think all these new developments are screwing up the original pattern of things and Maribelle is in some serious trouble. What's making this all the worse is Lucina's very poignant sentence from our meeting in Regna Ferox. The one where she implied that other's Robin's altering of the timeline screwed up the births of the Shepherd children.
It's pretty obvious now from that entry that some of the original kids aren't around anymore. When their parents go kaput, they go too. So, as a tactician and resident space-time anomaly, it is my duty and responsibility to make sure that shit doesn't go down.
I thrust my hand into the air. Save all the things!
Question is, how do I do that?
And my enthusiasm deflates. My forehead thumps against the wood as it comes to a rest on the window sill. I don't have an idea yet on what to do. I feel utterly helpless. Everything seems to be spiraling more and more out of control with little I can do to stop it. You suck fate.
I turn my face to the side and stare at Bobbette's swaying leaves. I reach over and shake her pot spastically.
"What's that Bobbette?" I say, pressing my ear closer to her. "Stop being a loser and think of something. You're absolutely right. I should stop moping and start planning. I just need to find motivation."
Another shake.
"Well that wasn't very nice. Do I have to put you in time out?"
"GAH!" I startle as my door buckles under heavy pounding. I let go of my plant and instinctively dive toward my desk for the Roster and cards. I juggle the two Einherjar, throwing them in the book before slamming it into one of my bottom drawers. Another round of banging ensues. My nerves are still frayed and in my haste to get to the door, I catch the corner of my chair and stumble. I flail all the way to the door, slamming into it.
"Shit!" I hiss as my shoulder rams awkwardly into it. "Will you hold your damn horses? Gods!"
I somehow manage to tear the door open and deliver a poisonous glare to the visitor on the other side. "What?" I snarl.
Ah geez. It's Frederick.
He glares down at me, face creased with annoyance and disapproval. "Robin," he states simply.
"Yes?" I reply back in equal annoyance as I rub my throbbing joint.
"Are you ill?
I lean back and stare angrily at him. "No."
"Dying?"
"No."
"In a state of irreconcilable bereavement?"
"No! What are getting at?" I flare under his assault of pesky questions.
He leans in close so we're staring at each other at the same level. "Then explain to me why you felt it necessary to skip over our training session today."
I was suppose to...?
He's right. I was. Yesterday was technically my day with Miriel for training, meaning today I would have swapped to Frederick. What a bust. Frederick must have been waiting all morning for me to appear.
"I'm really sorry Frederick. Today slipped away from me. It totally went over my head."
He straightens up looking no less angry. "Well now that you are aware, I will be expecting you to make up this little transgression by heading to the field post-haste. We have much to catch up on."
I reel back. "Are you serious? Right now?"
"Indeed. Ready yourself and then meet me on the training corner. Unless you fancy yourself a midnight run, I suggest you forgo thoughts of escaping and accept your lesson." And with that, he turns on his heel and stalks away before I can even protest.
"Aye aye, Captain," I drawl, voice dripping in disdain. This is not what I wanted right now.
My eyes drift to the drawer with the Roster in it. Loathe as I am to do so, I want to get back to reading. I think some of the things I may be looking for are in that section. It seems newly written as opposed to the earlier pages meaning there's a chance maybe something is in them from a newer cycle.
Alas, Frederick's right. It's better to face my fate now than draw out the pain later on. I quickly duck back into my room and change into something looser for training. Nothing like constricting material and chafing to set the mood. After prepping up and securing my door, I'm off.
I drag myself through the hall toward the common room. At midday, only a few Shepherds remain, despite the lunch spread sitting out warm and ready for the pickings. That'll probably be remedied soon as most are relieved for the noon break. Speaking of the devil, two of those stragglers are making their way in now.
Sumia looks up from the sock she's mending to deliver a welcome, but pauses when she sees Sully and Stahl's slackened forms."Are you both feeling well? You look peaked."
Sully doesn't even look at the other woman as she throws herself down into the nearest chair. She lets her weapon fall from her hanging hand and drags the other over her eyes. "General Eldaran can kiss my horse-chapped ass."
Stahl sits down next to her, immediately reaching for a plate. "It was a rough day," he adds.
Sumia puts aside her sewing, looking concerned. "I heard from Cordelia that they are really pushing the ground units harder than ever. Apparently they aren't faring well against the Risen."
"That's cause these morons can't understand a simple command. Aim for the head!" Sully snaps as she taps her noggin. "The rookies keep wanting to poke them in the torso causes it's easier to hit. That ain't gonna to do the job."
"Don't be so hard on them Sully, they're just nervous." Stahl starts to load up on more carbs than I think possible for a man to eat. "It's incredibly difficult to hit a small target when moving, let alone when unskilled."
"It's soft thinking like that which will kill these new kids in the end Stahl. Those Risen aren't going to ease up on them just because pegging 'em in the head with a stick is hard. They'll rip a hole out of them regardless."
Stahl looks off to the side sadly. "I know. But excessively pushing them to exhaustion won't help either.
"I'm sorry to hear that. Hopefully things ease up for you two soon," Sumia says.
Sully only snorts in response. "Yeah right."
"But you're the best cavaliers in the whole army. Surely the General knows that! Why work you two so hard here when you could be applying your amazing skills elsewhere?" Sumia gushes. That girl certainly has a way with bolstering the spirit, even when unintentional.
Stahl goes a tad red and grins. "A-amazing skills? I'm not that astounding Sumia. I mean, Sully definitely is. She's the best I've ever seen," he adds with a deeper shade of red forming. "But I'm just as good as the next warrior."
"Nonsense!" she exclaims. "You wouldn't be among the Shepherds if you weren't a remarkable person somehow. It needn't be just based on battle merit Stahl. You are a good fighter but you have remarkable skills in teamwork and first-aid."
"Ah ha ha, well. I suppose I can't argue with you Sumia," he says, shying away.
Sully watches the two with mild annoyance.
"What the heck is in the air nowadays? Everyone's getting all lovey-dovey around here. Next thing you know I'll be knee-deep in diapers," she says while rolling her eyes. She catches sight of me hovering near the back wall and gives me a poignant stare.
What's that fo- Oh. OH! Sully, no! I narrow my eyes in warning and dare her to say anything further. Mercifully, she doesn't.
"Enough with this emotional muckery. Stahl and I have bigger news to chat about! Get a load of this," Sully says as she leans in on her elbows. "One of the other riders has a brother who works in the church. Apparently he told her that the whole place was in an uproar today. Word came round to 'em that something went down in Valm."
Valm? Don't tell me Walhart is moving already!
Her voice drops low as if letting us in on a conspiracy. "So apparently, someone tried to assassinate Naga's kid in her own temple!"
The fork Sumia is using to refill her empty lunch plate clatters to the table, sending peas everywhere. "What?" she gasps in horror.
"What?" I echo back at the same time.
Stahl looks uneasy as he continues the story. "The rumors say it was a...a mankete."
Sumia blinks rapidly, slowly processing the words. "A genuine, real manakete? Like Lady Tiki? What happened?"
"We don't know. The details are still rather sketchy. No one seems to be able to get a straight story."
Like some shark from the deep, Kellam rises up between the two cavaliers and leans in. "Is she alright?"
The duo startles, Sully nearly toppling from her spot and Stahl choking momentarily on his pork. The red-head quickly recovers and starts pounding on her partner's back to help clear his airway.
"Gods' thumbs, you gotta stop doing that Kellam."
"Doing what?"
"Nothing," she exhales. "To answer your question, we don't know. None of her attendants found a trace of her anywhere and she hasn't contacted anyone. She's up and vanished."
"Oh no! I hope she wasn't eaten," Sumia murmurs, her face ashen with distress.
"Well it'd explain why they can't find her."
Kellam frowns disapprovingly. "Sully, that's a horrible thing to say."
"It's not like I'm wishing that happened. I'm the same as you in wanting nothing bad to happen to her. That's Naga's child after all!"
The conversation continues on but I hear no more of it. Their voices fade away as I fall deeper into my thoughts.
Again. It's happened again. Something's diverged off the norm.
Of all the things to happen though. This occurs? Someone tries to murder Tiki?
Didn't...didn't Lucina say Tiki came back to the past with her. She's got foreknowledge of what's going on, just like the two of us. Perhaps not to full extent either of have, but still. And not just that either. Tiki brought Lucina to the past, meaning she has the ability to alter time in the same way Robin did. Did...did she get attacked because of those very facts?
And a manakete? Where the hell did that thing come from? Who the hell could they be? The only manaketes in the game were Nowi, Nah, and Tiki. Well, Morgan too I guess if I were a dude and shacked up with one of them. But that ain't happening anytime soon. Realistically though, I suppose there are other manaketes. They just weren't in the game. But why is there one now involved in the plot. And why kill Tiki? Tiki's a blasted manakete too! They're the same species for crying out loud!
My growing anxiety over Miriel's little side trip is reaching red alert status. Maribelle's kidnapping in the game was almost instantaneous after the Shepherds returned home. I think that was just for plot convenience in the game. They wanted to speed along events as not to bore the player. In real life, these could be, and have been so far, farther apart.
I honestly don't think in past timelines Miriel's ever taken this "side trip." Lucina has no foreknowledge of these extra Risen so they're a new time-line anomaly that could very well alter actions in their own way. And with this little assassination attempt they created on the way back from Regna Ferox, they aren't just pesky canon fodder that the military keeps a cautious eye on. As far as they're concerned, attempting to kill the royal family makes you enemy number one. Miriel, Vaike, and Ricken's departure is going to take them out of Maribelle's abduction attempt I think. And without Ricken there to secretly stealth Maribelle out of there, she's going to die when Aversa tries to shank her. Ugh, this time junk is making my head hurt.
This new development has just swayed my opinion however. I'm not waiting any longer. The number one priority now is getting Maribelle back here, safe and sound.
There's a tap on my shoulder. I see Kellam looking down at me in concern. "Are you okay Robin? You don't look to well."
"O-oh. Sorry. I just got distracted there." I look off toward the door. "I have a training session with Frederick so I should get going. Sorry to cause you worry."
"Are you sure you should go? You look a little wobbly."
I shake my head as I move around him. "I'll make it. I'll be more than wobbly after Frederick's through with me if I skip out on him."
"Okay," he says, unconvinced. "Just don't push yourself Robin."
I wave good-bye and resume a begrudging pace out of the barracks.
The sun overhead is a startling contrast to the darker confines of the castle. I'm thankful the training grounds are right by barracks cause I am seriously lacking the motivation to walk. I drag myself all the way to the corner area where I see Frederick pacing impatiently. It's odd to see him without his usual armor on as he's only in some leather training gear now. I think it's been only twice before I had the pleasure. He looks a lot smaller without it. Unlike Kellam who is big-boned and large like his suit, Frederick's more tall than broad. Doesn't mean he lacks the muscle though. My constant healing bruises can attest to that.
I get a cold glare in greeting as I mosey on up.
"Hello to you to Mr. Sourpuss," I grumble as I shuffle over to the rack holding the sparring gear.
"You certainly took your time," he chastises from behind.
"Sully and Stahl came by with news."
"Idle jabbering is more important than training?"
I ignore him and continue. "Naga's daughter was attacked and is now missing."
He looks surprised that I know this but quickly shakes it off. "That is...correct. Word reached us last night. It is a worrisome rumor, that is true. However, without proper evidence to back it, it is still a baseless rumor. Given how little we know as of yet, I see no reason for it to affect your training desire."
"It's just bothering me is all."
"See that it doesn't. Distractions are not appropriate for the fighting spirit. Now then, we have much to catch up on..."
We go through the motions but I never truly focus on his commands. My mind is lost in thoughts of worry. S-should I ask for help? Chrom did say if I needed something I should go to him or Frederick but... I'm kind of scared. Will bringing my fears to light do anything? Will they cause suspicions to arise? Gah! I feel so helpless!
Oh frick! The sword-!
"Ouch! What the crap, Frederick?" I grunt as I land on the ground for the thirteenth time today. "Aren't you being a little too harsh today?"
"No more than usual," he states as he offers a helping hand to me. I grab a hold and he hoists me once more to my feet. "You are merely lacking on concentration. Your eyes continue to wander off amidst battle. Your misfortune is of your own doing Robin."
"Hmph." I don't know why I'm pouting. He's right. I can't focus while my mind's running amuck with all these different thoughts. I'm so caught up in trying to solve my problems that I can't see that stupid practice sword flying at me.
"Start again. Focus," he orders.
I try to and for a few matches it works. But doubt weasels in and corrupts me once more. This time I make a terrible error judging the height of his swing and jump in the utterly wrong direction. His wooden blade catches me upside my head. My pained cuss rips through the air as my ear sets on fire. I throw my glove off and press a hand to it, the smell of blood alerting my nose to what I'm in for.
"Damn it, Frederick!" I wail.
"Naga's breath. Where is your head today?"
"In front of your sword apparently."
He sets down his practice weapon by the rack and beckons me over. "Come here."
I obediently follow, pulling away my hand while trying not to look at the droplets staining the bandages. Frederick reaches out and pushes my hair away, tilting his head to get a better look at my injury. I suck in air through my teeth as pain pricks the delicate area he prods around the cut.
"A superficial wound. Nothing to retrieve a healer for."
He turns away and walks to weapon pile again.
"Really," I hiss, my already ill-tempered attitude starting to flair. I glare as hard as I can at his retreating back. "I'm still bleeding here, but never mind that. It's not as important as training, I guess. Thanks for caring. Dick."
Frederick, who had stooped down beside the training rack, stands again just as I finish my seething rant. Instead of a weapon being in his hands, he turns just as he flips the top off a vulnerary bottle. The tiny "Pop!" echoes dramatically in the awkward silence between us, sounding in tandem with the less than kind name I call him at the end of my speech. I stare between the bottle and the cloth in his hand as he slowly empties some of the contents on to it making a make-shift first-aid ointment.
Welp, who's the real dick now? This gal.
"Frederick. I-"
"Sit."
I promptly do.
"Hold still."
"Son of a biscuit!" I bite hard on my tongue and try to suppress the urge to push his hand away. My ear tingles as if snow is being rubbed against it. It's both numbing and painful. A few seconds go by before he retracts the cloth. He looks at the area of the former cut and says nothing more. I press a finger to the wound and feel smooth skin.
I silently watch him put aside the ruined contents before getting up to return the vulnerary. My voice is lost as I battle with words of apology and the urge to spew my own thoughts of self-depreciation. I make to get up but Frederick promptly points at me.
"Stay. Sitting."
"Yes sir." I drop my head in shame like some child in time-out. Appropriate, considering my outburst was all but adult-like.
Frederick finishes putting away the bottle and then returns to the log bench where I remain. He sits down beside me wearing the sternest look he's yet to tote. "You are beyond distracted." He states plainly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Then again, he is right. "Speak your mind now lest you find yourself impaled upon your own practice sword."
My head swivels to the side, eyes wide. "What?"
Not a flicker of change on his face. "I said speak your mind. Unburden yourself of your troubles. You are of no use to me nor your own self whilst these thoughts that plague you cloud your eyes."
I bite down on my lip, unsure what to say. Should I? I would like to more than anything but I can't help but hesitate. My earlier fears come back. If this were maybe Sumia or Stahl I wouldn't mind so much, but Frederick's a whole other story. I feel like he's just going to analyze everything I say and take it the wrong way. What if he starts drilling me with questions and I slip up somehow? But saying nothing isn't helping either. In fact, staying quiet may be just as suspicious, right? Yikes! This is such a mess.
"Robin." There's a hint of warning in his voice. He means business.
"I-I'm worried about something, that's all," I finally force out in a small voice.
"Oh?"
More hesitation. I'm positively shrivelling up under his gaze. In desperation, I try a last-ditch effort to get away. "It's nothing. I just need some air and then I'll come back in a few minutes."
I rise way too quickly for sounding so casual and Frederick notes this. Quick as lightning, he grabs me and pulls me firmly back down. "Do not think yourself so sly Robin. I've heard similar excuses hundreds of times before from both the prince and princess. They all end the same with the speaker running the other direction. I am not so easily fooled. Now speak lest I find a way to force it from you."
Oh God. There's that scary aura again. If Frederick marries he will have the most obedient children this side of Ylisse.
"Frederick...I don't...I mean that I can't..." My words keep twisting up in my mouth.
He regards me with a somber expression. "It is not a matter of cannot. It is one of will not. Robin, are we not past this strained apprehension? Or were your words simply hollow platitudes back in the Feroxi lands?"
"What? No! Of course not," I protest vehemently. My hands clench tightly into balls at my sides as I seethe in frustration. "I'm just...Flippin flap jacks. This is all crazy."
"Then take your time until you find the appropriate words. I am a patient man."
I groan and beat a fist lightly against my forehead. This is just peachy. He's right though. Have I really learned nothing in the time I've been here. These are my allies. I have to come to trust them. What point is there to calling myself a fellow Shepherd if I can't feel free to unburden myself upon them when I need it. They've put aside their suspicions to trust me, a complete stranger. I'm only disrespecting them by not doing the same.
Of course that doesn't stop me from still being scared out of my wits. There's always a looming fear of the what-ifs. Problem is, I don't have time to dwell on them. Maribelle is running out of time.
"Shit!" I proclaim loudly. My sudden outburst startles the knight judging from the way he straightens up. I pull up both hands and wave them up and down. "Okay, okay. I'll crack. Just...Ugh, you are a persistent bugger, you know that?"
"Indeed. I have great pride in my perseverance."
"I bet you do." I sigh in defeat. "Alright, give me a minute here."
It's now or never Robin."So, it's..uh...I know this is going to sound crazy but...but I'm worried about Maribelle." The last line comes out as one long string of syllables and I hope he understood because I don't think I can repeat it again.
"Is that right?" Frederick says with new curiosity. Good news so far. He's doesn't look ready to throw me in prison yet! "Do continue."
I make a disturbed sound in the back of my throat. "Right." Deep breath. Okay, go. You can do this. Make the case and save the girl!
"Between the Risen attacking, Plegia's constant provocations, and this story of Lady Tiki getting attacked, I started wondering. This idea popped up and got me thinking so hear me out."
God, I'm gonna vomit. Help.
"I don't know much about Maribelle other than she's a noble and a really good friend of Lissa's from what I gather." This next part is a total lie but I need the effect to drive home my point later on. "I hear from all sorts of people how close she is with the royal family. Crazy hijinks and whatnot."
Frederick gives a minimal nod. "That is accurate. But, go on."
"Right. So I've been sort of worried with the Risen sightings growing more common and the rising bandit attacks, especially since I haven't seen her since I first came here. It's be eating away at me in the back of my mind. And then when I found out about Themis being so close to Plegia's border, I couldn't help but feel even worse. After what I saw in both Southtown and on the road that night, I know there's a lot of bad things lingering around."
"Anyway, being a tactician and all, I start getting these crazy schemes running in my head about what the enemy could do." Shit! Plegia isn't the enemy yet! Back up and fix this! Pronto!
"Not that Plegia is the enemy yet! Well sort of. They are poking us with a stick constantly. You know what I mean," I say with a hopeful tone.
The knight just nods apathetically. "I believe I may be starting to gather what you are blathering circles about. Go on."
"Gee, thanks," I grump. "Look, I'll spare you the intricate thought process I went through. Bottom line is this: if Plegia knows how much chaos we're in between Risen and bandits as well as knowing Maribelle is close to the royal family, they may try to use her as collateral. I don't know why they hate your guts so much but they sure as day are doing anything they can to provoke you all into war. And after hearing about this brazen attack on Lady Tiki, it made me more paranoid than ever that they may try to pull something along those lines. She's the perfect target being isolated as she is."
Frederick sits in a thoughtful silence after I finish speaking. It takes every ounce of restraint in my body not to fidget in place as I watch him mull over my words. The itch to run grows with each second.
Finally, he raises his head. To my surprise, he rises. "Follow after me," he commands before walking away.
I hesitate before jumping up after him. "What are you doing?"
He waves me to follow. "Trading a secret for a secret. Come."
And so I do. Frederick leads me past the fields and back into the barracks, specifically the Shepherds' quarters. He bursts through the common room and all but ignores the greetings thrown at him. I wave quickly in response, trying to block out their confused faces as we disappear into the sleeping hall. We walk down several doors and stop before Chrom's makeshift office. Frederick retracts a key and disappears inside with me trailing. As soon as I clear the doorway, he throws it shut.
It feels weird to be in someone else's quarters, let alone my own leader's. It's fitted with all the furnishings of a proper war room along with a bed shoved into the corner. Unsurprisingly, it looks a bit like a bachelor pad. Papers litter the floor and open surface space. Discarded coats litter the chairs and the bed sheets are askew from the prior evening's sleep. There's a discarded dish with a yellowed apple core and unfinished pie crust. I won't even go into the health hazard that exists with all the unsheathed weapons lying about.
Tearing my eyes away from the personal decor, I ask the question burning on my tongue. "Am I going to be told what's happening?"
Frederick moves around the desk and to a chest of drawers. He pulls open the top most one and guts the whole thing. He pauses and then turns slowly, giving me a dead serious glare.
"You do not repeat to anyone what you see happen here, understood?"
His tone is low and cold. That's a threat, not a statement.
I nod wordlessly. Turning back to the furniture piece, he reaches into the depths. His hand moves about and I hear a mechanical click. Seconds later, the bottom pops up. A secret compartment? Awesome! How super spy is that?
Frederick extracts a bundle of papers and brings them back to the desk. He flips through the sheafs before extracting a specific one. He quickly lays it out next to a large map on the table. It looks like merely a list of places with names and dates.
The large map sitting sprawled over the rest of the table is a highly detailed layout of Ylisse. Tiny pins with colored ends mark specific places of note on the sprawling landscape. Forts, strongholds, trade hubs...the map has everything. Also of note are the numerous bigger picks sticking from it with black strings attached to them. These are spread every which way over the landscape. I look questioningly to Frederick, unsure the purpose of these articles.
He flips around the small paper and presents it to me. "This is a list of the revised patrol routes we were set to follow last month. They are purposefully alternated and revised monthly to avoid predictable routes that the invading marauders in Plegia may attempt to exploit. It also allows for inspections to be made when our forts and outposts least expect it. An encouragement to keep them continually following protocol at all times."
"Okay?"
"Only eight individuals are ever aware of these plans at any time. Of the Shepherds, it is milord and myself. The others are Captain Phila and her lieutenant amongst the aerial division, General Eldaran of the ground forces, Dame Nethys of the city guard, Head Archon Idwin in the College, and the Exalt herself."
That makes sense. "So only the heads of your military have a hand at it."
"Precisely. Now read the contents of our patrol plans on this date here."
"Right-o Freddio."
"Please do not call me that," he grunts.
I snicker a little as I start to read the sheet. Let's see here. This General Eldaran was going to set up patrols following some road here and here, yada yada. He also had a planned visit on a fort on the western front. Phila was traveling back with a regiment of trainees also in the west for aerial runs. A shipment of steel weapons was coming from a blacksmith in the north to the city. Hey, Chrom and the others were patrolling Southtown this day! That would mean that's also the day they found me.
Hard to believe it's been a month and some weeks since I first landed here. To think I was attacked by bandits and Risen in the same day.
"Okay. So what's the big deal with this?"
Now Frederick points to the map, showcasing each black pin to the corresponding location. "These are all the Risen attacks that occurred that same day."
Huh, that's weird. All the pins are in the same spots.
"Now continue reading on while observing the map."
My eyes sweep from each marker and then back to the paper. At first it makes no sense. I move from dates and places to markers. Slowly, the familiarity of the names begins to increase. Every coordinate of a major military activity that happened last month is marked with a pin.
"No way."
Frederick starts to speak, moving his left hand down the list while tracing each corresponding point on the map. "The Shepherds met you and were attacked that same eve by Risen outside of Southtown. General Eldaran was forced to push back a battalion of Risen at Fort Dupont as well. As was Phila. As did the guard and their caravan. The list goes on."
"The following day, our scheduled inspection at the south borderline was attacked. Two days later another shipment exchange. All Risen. All exactly timed to our activities. Do you see the pattern?"
"I can't believe this," I say, shaking my head. "Are you saying these were coordinated attacks?"
"Precisely." He stares at the map, his eyes cold and hard. I can see he's fighting back the feelings of denial.
"You think someone leaked the plans?" I suggest.
He's struggling with the notion. "I have served alongside these men and women for years. To think that would be to dishonor the trust we've established. Yet, the coincidence between these attacks and the these outings is too improbable to ignore."
Frederick falls back against the chest. He rests one arm on the other and covers his mouth while continuing to stare at the map. I've never seen him look so conflicted before.
"Maybe someone was able to break in and copy the details?" I offer up.
He looks no less pained at the suggestion. "A possibility," he mutters weakly. Either way, a fear's been realized. Someone in Ylisse has very well betrayed the country. This is a frightening development that I wish didn't seem real. There's a spy in the castle and it sounds like they may have gone undetected for a good amount of time.
"That is not all," he says quietly from behind his hand.
"There's more?" I say in disbelief.
"Unfortunately. Uncovering this strange pattern alerted us to another problem which leads into fears similar to your own. Both myself and milord have been investigating these incidents as time has gone on. As you see on this map, we have been painstakingly keeping track of every encounter to date from these vile creatures in hopes of uncovering something. Weeks passed and we began to note a rising accumulation of freestanding packs that were inconsistent with those on our plans. They are almost all appearing only a half day's trip from Plegia's borders."
Sure enough, the map confirms this. While the eastern and southern boundaries as well at the Feroxi border are speckled with black pins, a whole mass of them are stuck along the western lands. All are mostly clumped together by the thin line separating the two countries. Alarming still is when I note the province of Themis and how many pins have accumulated around it. Maribelle is boxed in with Risen encroaching on all sides.
I'm struck mute, so Frederick continues to speak. "Your fears are not unwarranted. We have had growing fears these past few days since our last letter arrived from the Duke himself. His lands are becoming overrun and refugees from the villages continue to pour into his stronghold. The roads are simply impossible to travel, especially without an armed guard. The council here has been debating how many to send in an attempt to reclaim the territory. Though that could continue to be days considering the amount of arguments ensuing."
Seriously? These morons are still fighting? How competent of them.
Frederick looks uneasy the longer he speaks. "I must admit, your voiced concerns have raised a point I had not thought to consider." He looks to the map. "Themis does have a startlingly larger populace of Risen than any other region on the western board and it continues to grow as they move in on the main capital. I have to wonder if all these connections raise credence to your theory."
"I kind of wish it didn't," I muse quietly. This is not what I wanted to hear. Why can't anything be simple around here? I worry about one thing and when the truth comes out, it's worse than before. "Has Plegia made any blatant moves to attack lately?"
The knight scoffs. "If you mean their typical poorly masked bandit heists, then yes. But nothing that could be defined as a true attack."
"Well that's a relief." I guess they haven't moved yet. That means we may still have time. That also means I'm going to have to press the issue.
The roads are overrun with Risen meaning it'll be hard to try and extract Maribelle from Themis. It'd be too risky to try and smuggle her out with a small team. The group would be easily overrun if they encounter those walking freaks. A large escort wouldn't help either. If Plegia is watching and waiting, seeing the force would only prompt them to act sooner.
But maybe there's another way.
I boldly reach out and pick up an ivory pegasus head stationed on one of the forts. I drag it lightly over to Themis and then back to Ylisstol.
"You ever think of doing an air drop, Frederick?"
"A what?"
I tap the piece down right in the middle of Themis. "Couldn't you send in a pegasus rider for extraction purposes? You'd be bypassing ground exposure and cutting travel times by half."
He looks unimpressed with my line of thought. "A pegasus cannot extract several towns worth of survivors."
"I'm not talking about numerous people. I'm talking about very specific targets."
Frederick shakes his head. "The duke and his wife would never abandon the province, nor their people. Of all our country's nobles, Themis' nobility has always been the staunchest defenders of its people. They will not leave without ensuring the safety of their common folk."
"Then at least lessen the chances for my fears to come true," I say. "This is just my tactician knowledge talking here, but I don't think Plegia is going to care about the commoners. If what you showed me today is any sign of my fears being valid, then they are going to hit for a big ransom. I don't know if they are tied to the Risen or just taking advantage of the madness but for sure, something is going to happen, especially if spies are tracking your movements and influencing the chaos out there. The less family members to be taken advantage of, the better for us. All I'm saying is that we're better off safe than sorry."
I don't mean to sound so desperate or push so hard but I have this dark, dark feeling that we may be this close to losing Maribelle. Please Frederick. Don't ask questions or get all wishy-washy on me. Just take her out of there!
Frederick returns his gaze to the map.
"I have to wonder if this is the intent behind these movements. It makes some sense. If so, the consequences will be dire. No doubt that mad despot is aiming for..." He cuts off abruptly, probably not wanting to divulge his suspicions. Too bad I already know he means the Fire Emblem itself.
"If I am to go before the council to seek aid on this, I will have you come with me."
Huh? "Woah now. Are you sure that's smart? I don't have a track record with eloquence in diplomatic relations."
"You needn't speak, just stand there," he responds. "Your presence will be enough to persuade the prince to act and force a decision from the council."
"Me? I don't know Frederick. How am I going to make that much of a difference?"
"As I stated before, milord will listen and respond best when the plan comes directly from you."
Not this again. I thought we sorted this out. "I find it hard to believe I carry more pull than you."
There's a long pause before he speaks again. "It does."
"And why's that?" I ask, genuinely curious for an answer.
"It's quite simple. Milord is enamored with you."
Full stop. My mind explodes. "Excuse me?" my voice come out in a shrill whine.
I think Frederick is reveling in the notion that's he's caught me off guard, judging from that brief flicker of self-satisfaction on his face. "Forgive me," he says with the faintest smile. "I worded that incorrectly. He is enamored with the 'idea' of you."
"I am failing to see the sense in your words Frederick," I strain out. Do you know how embarrassing the words are that you're saying? Is this revenge for all the pestering I've done to you? Ugh. You're such an ass.
"How do I word this properly?" He ponders as he starts to gather papers together. "Prince Chrom has always been a...romanctic at heart. He revels in the stories of his ancestors and has studied every heroic ballad under the sun. His dream through childhood has always been to emulate the greatest names of the past, as befitting one of his station."
Frederick walks back to the drawers and begins to deposit its contents while continuing to speak. "Even the conception of the Shepherds was based on his fantasies of creating some vigilante force of heroes that would go down in the history for its exploits. The council allowed him to do so hoping it would distract him from joining real battle. They unwisely underestimated his drive to accomplish that dream."
I'm about to pull my hood up to hide my face. "Thanks for the history lesson but that's got nothing to do with me."
"On the contrary, it has everything to do with you," he says with a hint of amusement. This guy is getting a kick out of my discomfort. He fastens the drawer bottom again and refills it with the rest of the odd knick-knacks. Even from the side, I can tell he's smirking.
"Imagine, from milord's point of view, the situation surrounding yourself. Here you are, a woman lost and alone found injured on the roadside. There is not a single memory inside your head except a name. Is it not his duty as a prince to guard and protect the weak? Yet, we found you are not as helpless as you would seem! You carry an innate ability for combat and a drive to pursue your betterment in it. Despite danger, you are willing throw yourself into the fray for the sake of his citizens as well as his cohorts."
"That's kind of you to say Frederick."
He shrugs. "Those are words from his own mouth, not I."
Oh. That's even more embarrassing.
"The situation is entirely fantastical, is it not?" He muses. "How can one not think a meeting to be so fateful? Like a tale of yore, a tactician of dubious origins and an aspiring prince coming together as if through divine intervention. What is there to not admire about such a thought."
I blink in surprise. "Chrom really thinks that way? He thinks that me, or us rather, had some sort of-" I raise my fingers and produce a set of air quotes, "'fateful meeting'?"
Frederick gives a long nod, clearly finding the situation both hilarious and ludicrous. Judging from his attitude, it seems like Chrom pulls this sort of crap all the time. "A blessing from Naga perhaps? Either way, I think he believes you will be a key figure in leading us to victory in the future."
"Well, I never pegged Chrom as such a daydreamer. I suppose this is sort of an honor." I lean against the desk and drum my fingers against the lacquered top. "That explains a lot I guess."
"Indeed. You carry more clout than you know." Frederick closes his eyes and ponders the situation. "It is hard to not agree some days with his line of thought. The very notion does sound like something from a story book."
It kind of does when put forth like that. A woman from another world and time being saved by an idyllic prince and his band of ragtag heroes while being destined to lead them to success. What doesn't scream cliché fantasy plot? No wonder Frederick was so pissed off in Regna Ferox. I'd think Chrom a bit dense, if not enchanted as well, if he was blabbering this logic.
"I'm not special and this situation is just a freak accident. But if that's what he wants to think, more power to him," I sigh. "Regardless of the reasoning behind it, having that much sway over his decisions is rather daunting."
"How so? Are you not our tactician? I'd say it is very befitting of your role as an advisor." I half expect the sentence to be curt or sarcastic, but Frederick is speaking genuinely. He means what he's saying.
I can't help but laugh lightly, earning a puzzled look. "Last time we had a conversation like this you believed rather differently. It's odd."
Frederick mirrors my own expression of thoughtfulness. "Aye. A strong case of how unpredictable the outcomes of the future are. Look where it has led us now."
"Mm." I run a finger over the design on the sleeve of my coat, tracing the line up to the mark on the elbow. "You know, I was actually scared to bring up my concerns to you."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah, funny thing that is. Even with me approaching you first for a ceasefire on hostilities, I was the one who remained laden with doubts in my trust for you. That was not only stupid of me, but also juvenile. I was completely wrong about you and the rest of the Shepherds this whole time." I raise my eyes and give a sad smile of apology. "I regret that more than you possibly know."
Frederick regards me with silent contemplation. Then, the impossible happens. I get an actual, genuine smile! "Save yourself further grief Robin. Such thoughts are only a natural progression as people change. Regrets should be saved for the past."
I feel the urge to gush. Warm feelings of camaraderie and gratefulness take over and I can't help but feel slightly teary-eyed with my flux of emotions. "Thank you."
Frederick sort of startles when he sees me dab at the corner of my eye with my sleeve. He gets all stiff and looks unsure how to proceed with my barely-there tears. The fit passes quickly and I assure him otherwise.
Frederick expresses relief and quickly regains his composure. He clears his throat, the air of authority coming back once more. "Now then. Sentimentalities aside, I believe it's time I voiced some concerns to the council." He walks to the door and holds it open for me. "Shall we?"
Yes! Yes we shall. This is exactly what I needed. Finally, some progress and good news!
I want to breathe safely and feel relief. Really. But, a tiny part of me can't help but wonder at whether this would have some impact later on. Lucina had warned me that messing with the order of things caused stuff to go askew. Most of the time, it was for the worse. It's because of that I have this looming fear sitting at the back of my mind. Is subverting Maribelle's rescue event going to cause a problem? Or am I achieving the same outcome regardless?
Oh boy. I hope this is the right thing to do. For Maribelle's future and everyone else's.
A/N: Honestly, how does one realistically describe Chrom's sudden innate trust in the avatar that early in the game? Like, really dude? This person is lying face down on the side of the road and you're just like "Nah, they're cool. Hang with us." That's why assassins stormed the castle so easily and killed Emmeryn in the bad timeline. Silly.
And also, a question to you readers! Do you prefer I use Caeda or Shiida? I know localization changed the name but I always referred to her as Shiida. If it's too confusing though, I'll change it for consistency. Thanks.
Review Responses -
Alucard45 - Thank you! I'm of the mindset that any genre can be done well, you just have to work at it. Creativity and a good plot can take you a long way. And give your friend my thanks as well! I'm honored someone likes my story that much that they're willing to share it with others! I appreciate it that you two have stuck around so long to read. I hope I get your favorite couple in there too, though now I'm curious!
timewastin - You're welcome! Yeah, lots of info indeed! That's what libraries are for though. Research and answers, ha ha!
A Shadow's Lament - French is a gorgeous language but I should never be allowed to speak it out loud. I butcher the accent horribly. I'm good for reading and writing mostly. And speaking of accents, it's funny because I was just told by one of my coworkers how strong my city accent is. I must sound like the scariest bakery worker ever. As for Marth's accent, it's slightly different because he is speaking with an older dialect of the Akaneian language. So, the phonetics sound off to a modern speaker. Just a fun tid-bit to share.
I'm glad the chapter succeeded in the surprise aspect. That was the point of it. My favorite feeling while reading is running across that one line that makes you go "WHAT?" and then proceed to reread it several times to make sure you read it right. This chapter is basically setting up for the answers that are now about to slowly start trickling in. Hopefully I can invoke that again in the next few as well.
xShurikenx - Hello! Nice to hear from you again! This was a crazy chapter, wasn't it? I do love a good magic system so I try my best to explain when I can. Physics and magic sort of go hand in hand in a weird, twisted way. They build on a world's fundamental laws and building blocks. It's fun to get creative about how they achieve such effects. The Einherjar have their secrets, for sure. It will be interesting to see what they know as well as well as what they can do. I planned all along to have them in, it was their implementation that was the tricky part. And don't worry about Lucina. She's very close now that the stage is set.