toon_marth
Smash Ace
Fore notes:
This story will be separated into two books, each containing ten chapters, a prologue, and an epilogue.
This story, takes place in the world of the Fire Emblem series, on the continent of Akeneia. This, of course, would not be a fanfic without a character to be a fan of. This story partly focuses on Prince Marth, referred to with his original name, Mars, in this fic. I am sure that you are familiar with Fire Emblem 1, 3, or 11, or know this character from Super Smash Bros. Melee, and Brawl.
This tale does not follow a specific character, rather, foresees the events of several heroes, fighting for the peace and freedom of all decent and common people. Now, this may seem like a bit of a cliché, overused plot, however, I assure you, you will probably never have heard a tale like it. So, without further adieu, you may commence in reading this fan fiction.
Book One
Prologue:
Ten years have past since the events of Fire Emblem: Monshou no Nazo (FE:3)……..
It was late in the evening in the land of Grust, a militant kingdom founded by the renowned General Odin. A small army was camped out behind the rocks that lie in front of Odin Fortress, an abandoned stronghold that had been reinstated as a valid operating post. They were not to be spotted by the enemy, as the enemy had recently taken the fort.
A man was sitting on the rocks that lay in front of the Odin Fortress.
“Commander, we still have no sight of the scouting troop that went to scour the perimeter.”
“How long have they been gone?” replied the man to one of his subordinates, making no effort of looking up from his downcast gaze.
“Five hours since we departed from base camp,” answered another voice, a man who was apparently from the scout troop. The two men looked up in surprise to see a man bearing light, stout armor, and a bow of silver, with an empty quiver at his side.
“Jasvar, where on Earth are the rest of the scout? When did you return?” were just a few of the questions that came pouring from the mouths of the first two men, once they had registered in their minds what the happenings were.
“We were spotted, and had no place of retreat. I alone escaped, leaving the others hiding in the nearby woods, to seek reinforcements from base camp!” replied Jasvar in aggravation.
“….Well then, reinforcements shall be sent. Who was lost?” said the commander.
“I am loath to report that Ilandraas has fallen.”
The subordinate stood in silence as the words passed from Jasvar’s lips.
“We shall have time for grievance of Ilandraas at a later time. We must send the requested reinforcement. Vincent, who is well and able to scout?” replied the commander to the melancholy words of Jasvar.
“Jaigran is ready,” replied Vincent, the subordinate.
“Jaigran? I thought Jaigran was injured in the Pelius Mines,” said Jasvar.
“He is well enough now to fight. Jasvar, why don’t you go retrieve a full lot of arrows for your quiver from the supply tent?” answered the commander.
“Good idea. Lord knows how many I will need.” Jasvar then turned and left the two alone.
“Commander Archrith…,” started Vincent, but was cut off by Archrith.
“I told you, Vincent, call me Arch. Archrith sounds too stuffy.”
“Ummm…Arch, I have a question for you.”
“Okay, what is it?”
“How did this come to be?”
“What do you mean?”
“How did I come to be under your service? When I was training as a knight, I hadn’t heard of you, and always wanted to be under the command of Sir Grash. When I graduated, I was assigned to you, of which I had never heard a word spoken of. Where did you come from?”
Arch was silent for a brief moment, then he replied:
“I was part of a secret department of the Altean military. I wasn’t always recruited by Altea, though. I was working as mercenary for a while. I thought I’d get to travel the world. My biggest hope was to go to Doluna, and to see the dragons.”
“Dragons? Why would you want to see dragons? Such evil beasts…,” retorted Vincent.
“Don’t speak that way! Dragons are majestic creatures, with their own motives, just as humans. I’m sure that dragons may think the same of humans that you do of them. There might not be any motivational differences.”
“Why do you have so much sympathy for them?”
“Sympathy? Why on this world would I have sympathy for dragons? If anything, I should say that dragons are the ones who should have sympathy upon us.”
“How do you mean that, Arch?”
“I mean that dragons are naturally physically superior to humans…. possibly mentally as well.”
“How do get around, with thinking like that?”
“Hahaha…. You have a sense of humor. No, dragons may be physically and mentally superior to humans, but we have a stronger sense of right and wrong, good and evil, and lead much more emotional roles in the lives of others. In a way, we have a stronger bond with each other. Dragons don’t have that. They have one goal in mind, and once their mission is complete, they lose their sense of direction in life for a while.”
“I see. So, who is to have sympathy upon whom, exactly?”
“That is to be decided, Vincent.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You’ll see in due time, friend.”
“Having a conversation with you is trying to interpret a dream….,” muttered Vincent as he turned his head away from Commander Arch.
“Commander….,” said a voice from behind the rock on which they were sitting. Arch stood up and turned toward the direction of the voice, and looking down, he saw Jaigran, one of Jasvar’s closest friends. He wore tattered chain mail under a shoulder pad, one of which appeared to have fallen off. He had a smile on his face and an axe in hand, which he had propped over his shoulder pad.
“Jasvar told me that you need my assistance,” declared Jaigran in his deep drone-like voice.
“The scouting troop needs your assistance, to replace Ilandraas,” replied Arch.
“Ah yes, Jasvar told me of the ill fate of Ilandraas. Where is the troop at the moment?”
“We’ve marked the location on this map,” said Vincent, “Here. Take it.”
Vincent handed Jaigran a map with the current hideout place of the troop on it.
“I shall be on my way then?” inquired Jaigran.
“Be careful,” answered Arch. “I shall be there to aid you once the rest of the army is tended to and ready to move out. Please see what you can see, and find what you can find until then.”
“Will do, sir!” and with that, Jaigran sprang out of the camp. And as he ran off, the Commander and Vincent noticed the limp had left his leg, from where it had been crushed but a week and a half earlier.
“A fast healer, that one,” said Vincent to Arch, as if he knew that they were both thinking the same thing.
“A sure thing,” he answered. “I’m afraid I must be off, Vincent. I must tend the other soldiers,” and as he began to turn, Vincent saw him off with:
“Don’t pretend to think that I don’t know that you’re headed in the direction of Lady Naomi’s tent!”
“Ha! I’m not pretending anything!” shouted Arch from the bottom of the rocks after he hopped down.
“What a card,” muttered Vincent under his breath as he closed his eyes and leaned back on the rock upon which he was perched, with his arms pillowing his head as he began to daydream.
He eventually drifted into a deep sleep. And as he slept he dreamt of a boy of which had no concern to him, and the dream was distant, yet close to his own life, as if he could relate. Here is a record of the dream that Vincent wrote down the best he could remember it, after he awoke from his dream. All descriptions of this boy were revealed to him through other circumstances in the dream:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was a morning, seemingly identical to all other mornings in the village of Melonith. Though the happenings were the same as any other morning, the atmosphere was different, as the young boy Gabriel Tora noticed. Not the look, but the feeling, was changed, as when you wake up from a dream of strange happenings set in your neighborhood, the neighborhood doesn’t feel the same for a while. Now, this boy named Gabriel was nine years of age. He was a bit tall for his age, and was commonly picked on by his friends and classmates for his blue hair. But his dad just told him he was to be proud of it, for it traces back to his Altean lineage, and this would always encourage him, for he knew that he would somehow have to be related to royalty, but his parents would tell him no more. His tenth birthday was coming faster than the Tora household could keep track of.
The Tora family was that seemingly perfect family of the Village. They always had plenty of money, but weren’t rich. Mr. and Mrs. Tora never seemed to so much as even have a spat. Little Gabriel was always so well behaved.
But this day, though it could not be explained by Gabriel, was different. The air was crisp and fresh, but there was a malicious aura looming about Village. An aura only felt on days when you have something on your conscience, or you are about to do something regrettable.
Mr. Jakob Tora, Gabriel’s father, was out tending to his garden, the one sanctuary he had from the troublesome relatives and in-laws that were seemingly always coming over to visit to see just how much little Gabe had grown. Gabe was still half asleep, when he finished eating breakfast.
“Gabriel, could you give this package to your father?” asked Mrs. Tora.
“Are these the seeds dad ordered?” replied Gabriel.
“Umm, no. Can I trust you with this?” retorted his mother.
“Can I open it?”
“Heavens, no! Perhaps I shall have to deliver it to him myself!”
“N-no! I can handle it!”
“Just please, Gabe, do NOT open it.”
“ I won’t! Geez. Oh, can I ride to the garden on horseback?”
“No, you know your lessons aren’t completed yet. Now scoot! Off you go!”
Without further word or inquisition, Gabriel headed out the door to deliver the mysterious package to his father at the garden. Mr. Tora’s garden was about three miles from the Tora’s home, and Gabriel was disappointed he had to walk all the way to the garden, though he tried to tell himself that he needed the exercise.
He walk very far that morning, past the Iron Key inn, old Mr. Junker’s shop, and the Hugo’s horse farm. He was half tempted to steal one of the Hugo’s horses, though he knew it was the wrong thing to do.
He could see the garden in the distance, and he began to run in anticipation. Then his eager run was stopped in its track, as Gabriel spotted Yeager, a beast of a child, renowned throughout the Melonith elementary school as the worst bully the establishment had ever seen.
Yeager was behind a fence (though Gabriel knew that wouldn’t stop him if he really wanted something…. like pork…) and he was yelling angrily at something that he was looking down at, but Gabriel could not see what (or who) it was. Then he heard a scream of pain as Yeager lobbed his fists in a downward manner. Gabriel began to race toward his father’s garden in fear. Yeager look up and saw Gabriel running. He began to yell at him:
“You better run, punk! I’ll git you NEXT!”
This only made Gabriel want to run faster; faster than his legs could carry him. He finally arrived at his father’s garden. It was a greenhouse, to be exact. Gabriel burst through the door panting harder then Mr. Tora had ever heard him pant before.
“Son! What do you mean, bursting though that door like that? You startled me half to death!”
“Yea…ger….he’s…outside…coming…to…get me,” tried Gabriel in between pants.
“What in the hell is that bully doing on family property?!” flared Mr. Tora. “Why didn’t you stand up for yourself?”
“N-no! He’s too scary!”
“Come on, son! Man up! You’re almost 10 years old. Double digits.”
“I-I’m not 10 yet!” stuttered Gabriel as he bolted to the back of the Garden, shoving the package into his father’s hands.
“Gabriel, do you know what this is?” said his father as he began to walk towards him pointing to the package wrapped in brown paper.
“No. Mom said not to open it.”
“Well I’m telling you to open it now.”
“What? Really?”
“Yes, really. Here, open it.”
“Okay….,” as he tore the paper his hands were still shaking with fear. The package was long and slim, and he was anxious to get the wrapping off. He then peeled away the paper, and it revealed a long, white box.
“Go on…,” urged his father.
Looking back down at the box he felt a great courage come over him. He seized the lid firmly in his hand and pried it from the box to reveal a beautiful, polished, wooden sword. The handle was garnered in the finest leather in Akeneia. The blade was from the same piece as the hilt and handle so it would not fall off. Pure, refined mahogany it was. Gabriel’s eyes shone with wonder as he gazed at the magnificent blade of polished cherry paint.
“Happy birthday, son,” said Mr. Tora, smiling nearly from ear to ear.
Gabriel was speechless. A pounding noise was then heard on the door to the greenhouse.
“I-it’s him! Yeager!”
“Go show him a lesson!”
“Yessir!” shouted Gabriel clutching the sword in his fist. He ran at the door and as he approached it the door was thrust open by Yeager. Gabriel Swung his sword with all his might and gave Yeager a good whack on the shoulder with the flat of his blade. Yeager withdrew with a yelp and then swung his fist blindly. At first Gabriel thought he had dodged the hit, but as he saw blood dripping from his face to the ground he knew he had been hit. He took another swing and nailed Yeager square in the leg.
“Leave me alone, you idiot!” yelled Gabriel.
“That’s no fair! You have a weapon!” Yeager began to turn but he was seized quickly my Mr. Tora. He picked him up by the shirt and dragged him out of the greenhouse.
Next, it seemed as if Gabriel took a hit to the chest by some unknown force. Or perhaps it was Felix urging me awake. I saw no more of the dream.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was true. Felix the Cavalier had been stamping his foot firmly on his chest trying to wake him up. It was now night time.
“What’s going on? Did Gabriel get hurt?” said Vincent half asleep.
“What?! What are you talking about?”
“Huh? Oh…. Felix. What’s wrong?”
“The army is ready to storm the fortress. We’ve been looking all over the camp for you for the last half hour!”
“Ready to storm Odin Fortress?” asked Vincent, still half asleep, not knowing what he was truly asking.
“No! Ready to storm my mother’s house- of course Odin Fortress you twit!” replied Felix sarcastically. “Get up! We are ready to go and waiting on you!”
“Oh, sorry.”
Vincent and Felix hopped down the rocks on which Vincent was napping and once they reached the gathering point, all eyes were glared upon Vincent.
“I found this bum sleeping on the rocks” said Felix.
Rachel, a young mage girl about the age of seventeen, began muttering to Vincent as he took his usual post next to her:
“What were you thinking?! Sleeping on the job!” she said.
“I didn’t know we were almost ready to depart.” Vincent replied.
“It took us two hours since Arch left you there! That’s not called ‘almost ready’.”
“Sorry, mother,” said Vincent in a sarcastic tone.
“Can the fate of King Mars and Queen Shiida really depend upon such a lazy bunch?” said Rachel, turning away from Vincent.
“Mars and Shiida can hold their own. Besides, we’re on our way. However slowly that may be.” said Vincent, closing the conversation. Thus, they marched on, to meet with the scout troop, with high spirits and unexplainable understanding for Vincent's laziness.
TO BE CONTINUED
_____________________________________________________
Closing comments:
So, as the small army of Commander Archrith of the house of Crellius in Altea, Vincent begins pondering the meaning of the strange dream he had. Gaining control of the Odin Fortress would be a great aspect for the Crellius Army in their quest to find The King and Queen of Altea. Wondering how this came to be? Be checking for chapter 1 of Fire Emblem: KoLH!
COMMENTS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!!!!
This story will be separated into two books, each containing ten chapters, a prologue, and an epilogue.
This story, takes place in the world of the Fire Emblem series, on the continent of Akeneia. This, of course, would not be a fanfic without a character to be a fan of. This story partly focuses on Prince Marth, referred to with his original name, Mars, in this fic. I am sure that you are familiar with Fire Emblem 1, 3, or 11, or know this character from Super Smash Bros. Melee, and Brawl.
This tale does not follow a specific character, rather, foresees the events of several heroes, fighting for the peace and freedom of all decent and common people. Now, this may seem like a bit of a cliché, overused plot, however, I assure you, you will probably never have heard a tale like it. So, without further adieu, you may commence in reading this fan fiction.
Book One
Prologue:
Ten years have past since the events of Fire Emblem: Monshou no Nazo (FE:3)……..
It was late in the evening in the land of Grust, a militant kingdom founded by the renowned General Odin. A small army was camped out behind the rocks that lie in front of Odin Fortress, an abandoned stronghold that had been reinstated as a valid operating post. They were not to be spotted by the enemy, as the enemy had recently taken the fort.
A man was sitting on the rocks that lay in front of the Odin Fortress.
“Commander, we still have no sight of the scouting troop that went to scour the perimeter.”
“How long have they been gone?” replied the man to one of his subordinates, making no effort of looking up from his downcast gaze.
“Five hours since we departed from base camp,” answered another voice, a man who was apparently from the scout troop. The two men looked up in surprise to see a man bearing light, stout armor, and a bow of silver, with an empty quiver at his side.
“Jasvar, where on Earth are the rest of the scout? When did you return?” were just a few of the questions that came pouring from the mouths of the first two men, once they had registered in their minds what the happenings were.
“We were spotted, and had no place of retreat. I alone escaped, leaving the others hiding in the nearby woods, to seek reinforcements from base camp!” replied Jasvar in aggravation.
“….Well then, reinforcements shall be sent. Who was lost?” said the commander.
“I am loath to report that Ilandraas has fallen.”
The subordinate stood in silence as the words passed from Jasvar’s lips.
“We shall have time for grievance of Ilandraas at a later time. We must send the requested reinforcement. Vincent, who is well and able to scout?” replied the commander to the melancholy words of Jasvar.
“Jaigran is ready,” replied Vincent, the subordinate.
“Jaigran? I thought Jaigran was injured in the Pelius Mines,” said Jasvar.
“He is well enough now to fight. Jasvar, why don’t you go retrieve a full lot of arrows for your quiver from the supply tent?” answered the commander.
“Good idea. Lord knows how many I will need.” Jasvar then turned and left the two alone.
“Commander Archrith…,” started Vincent, but was cut off by Archrith.
“I told you, Vincent, call me Arch. Archrith sounds too stuffy.”
“Ummm…Arch, I have a question for you.”
“Okay, what is it?”
“How did this come to be?”
“What do you mean?”
“How did I come to be under your service? When I was training as a knight, I hadn’t heard of you, and always wanted to be under the command of Sir Grash. When I graduated, I was assigned to you, of which I had never heard a word spoken of. Where did you come from?”
Arch was silent for a brief moment, then he replied:
“I was part of a secret department of the Altean military. I wasn’t always recruited by Altea, though. I was working as mercenary for a while. I thought I’d get to travel the world. My biggest hope was to go to Doluna, and to see the dragons.”
“Dragons? Why would you want to see dragons? Such evil beasts…,” retorted Vincent.
“Don’t speak that way! Dragons are majestic creatures, with their own motives, just as humans. I’m sure that dragons may think the same of humans that you do of them. There might not be any motivational differences.”
“Why do you have so much sympathy for them?”
“Sympathy? Why on this world would I have sympathy for dragons? If anything, I should say that dragons are the ones who should have sympathy upon us.”
“How do you mean that, Arch?”
“I mean that dragons are naturally physically superior to humans…. possibly mentally as well.”
“How do get around, with thinking like that?”
“Hahaha…. You have a sense of humor. No, dragons may be physically and mentally superior to humans, but we have a stronger sense of right and wrong, good and evil, and lead much more emotional roles in the lives of others. In a way, we have a stronger bond with each other. Dragons don’t have that. They have one goal in mind, and once their mission is complete, they lose their sense of direction in life for a while.”
“I see. So, who is to have sympathy upon whom, exactly?”
“That is to be decided, Vincent.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You’ll see in due time, friend.”
“Having a conversation with you is trying to interpret a dream….,” muttered Vincent as he turned his head away from Commander Arch.
“Commander….,” said a voice from behind the rock on which they were sitting. Arch stood up and turned toward the direction of the voice, and looking down, he saw Jaigran, one of Jasvar’s closest friends. He wore tattered chain mail under a shoulder pad, one of which appeared to have fallen off. He had a smile on his face and an axe in hand, which he had propped over his shoulder pad.
“Jasvar told me that you need my assistance,” declared Jaigran in his deep drone-like voice.
“The scouting troop needs your assistance, to replace Ilandraas,” replied Arch.
“Ah yes, Jasvar told me of the ill fate of Ilandraas. Where is the troop at the moment?”
“We’ve marked the location on this map,” said Vincent, “Here. Take it.”
Vincent handed Jaigran a map with the current hideout place of the troop on it.
“I shall be on my way then?” inquired Jaigran.
“Be careful,” answered Arch. “I shall be there to aid you once the rest of the army is tended to and ready to move out. Please see what you can see, and find what you can find until then.”
“Will do, sir!” and with that, Jaigran sprang out of the camp. And as he ran off, the Commander and Vincent noticed the limp had left his leg, from where it had been crushed but a week and a half earlier.
“A fast healer, that one,” said Vincent to Arch, as if he knew that they were both thinking the same thing.
“A sure thing,” he answered. “I’m afraid I must be off, Vincent. I must tend the other soldiers,” and as he began to turn, Vincent saw him off with:
“Don’t pretend to think that I don’t know that you’re headed in the direction of Lady Naomi’s tent!”
“Ha! I’m not pretending anything!” shouted Arch from the bottom of the rocks after he hopped down.
“What a card,” muttered Vincent under his breath as he closed his eyes and leaned back on the rock upon which he was perched, with his arms pillowing his head as he began to daydream.
He eventually drifted into a deep sleep. And as he slept he dreamt of a boy of which had no concern to him, and the dream was distant, yet close to his own life, as if he could relate. Here is a record of the dream that Vincent wrote down the best he could remember it, after he awoke from his dream. All descriptions of this boy were revealed to him through other circumstances in the dream:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was a morning, seemingly identical to all other mornings in the village of Melonith. Though the happenings were the same as any other morning, the atmosphere was different, as the young boy Gabriel Tora noticed. Not the look, but the feeling, was changed, as when you wake up from a dream of strange happenings set in your neighborhood, the neighborhood doesn’t feel the same for a while. Now, this boy named Gabriel was nine years of age. He was a bit tall for his age, and was commonly picked on by his friends and classmates for his blue hair. But his dad just told him he was to be proud of it, for it traces back to his Altean lineage, and this would always encourage him, for he knew that he would somehow have to be related to royalty, but his parents would tell him no more. His tenth birthday was coming faster than the Tora household could keep track of.
The Tora family was that seemingly perfect family of the Village. They always had plenty of money, but weren’t rich. Mr. and Mrs. Tora never seemed to so much as even have a spat. Little Gabriel was always so well behaved.
But this day, though it could not be explained by Gabriel, was different. The air was crisp and fresh, but there was a malicious aura looming about Village. An aura only felt on days when you have something on your conscience, or you are about to do something regrettable.
Mr. Jakob Tora, Gabriel’s father, was out tending to his garden, the one sanctuary he had from the troublesome relatives and in-laws that were seemingly always coming over to visit to see just how much little Gabe had grown. Gabe was still half asleep, when he finished eating breakfast.
“Gabriel, could you give this package to your father?” asked Mrs. Tora.
“Are these the seeds dad ordered?” replied Gabriel.
“Umm, no. Can I trust you with this?” retorted his mother.
“Can I open it?”
“Heavens, no! Perhaps I shall have to deliver it to him myself!”
“N-no! I can handle it!”
“Just please, Gabe, do NOT open it.”
“ I won’t! Geez. Oh, can I ride to the garden on horseback?”
“No, you know your lessons aren’t completed yet. Now scoot! Off you go!”
Without further word or inquisition, Gabriel headed out the door to deliver the mysterious package to his father at the garden. Mr. Tora’s garden was about three miles from the Tora’s home, and Gabriel was disappointed he had to walk all the way to the garden, though he tried to tell himself that he needed the exercise.
He walk very far that morning, past the Iron Key inn, old Mr. Junker’s shop, and the Hugo’s horse farm. He was half tempted to steal one of the Hugo’s horses, though he knew it was the wrong thing to do.
He could see the garden in the distance, and he began to run in anticipation. Then his eager run was stopped in its track, as Gabriel spotted Yeager, a beast of a child, renowned throughout the Melonith elementary school as the worst bully the establishment had ever seen.
Yeager was behind a fence (though Gabriel knew that wouldn’t stop him if he really wanted something…. like pork…) and he was yelling angrily at something that he was looking down at, but Gabriel could not see what (or who) it was. Then he heard a scream of pain as Yeager lobbed his fists in a downward manner. Gabriel began to race toward his father’s garden in fear. Yeager look up and saw Gabriel running. He began to yell at him:
“You better run, punk! I’ll git you NEXT!”
This only made Gabriel want to run faster; faster than his legs could carry him. He finally arrived at his father’s garden. It was a greenhouse, to be exact. Gabriel burst through the door panting harder then Mr. Tora had ever heard him pant before.
“Son! What do you mean, bursting though that door like that? You startled me half to death!”
“Yea…ger….he’s…outside…coming…to…get me,” tried Gabriel in between pants.
“What in the hell is that bully doing on family property?!” flared Mr. Tora. “Why didn’t you stand up for yourself?”
“N-no! He’s too scary!”
“Come on, son! Man up! You’re almost 10 years old. Double digits.”
“I-I’m not 10 yet!” stuttered Gabriel as he bolted to the back of the Garden, shoving the package into his father’s hands.
“Gabriel, do you know what this is?” said his father as he began to walk towards him pointing to the package wrapped in brown paper.
“No. Mom said not to open it.”
“Well I’m telling you to open it now.”
“What? Really?”
“Yes, really. Here, open it.”
“Okay….,” as he tore the paper his hands were still shaking with fear. The package was long and slim, and he was anxious to get the wrapping off. He then peeled away the paper, and it revealed a long, white box.
“Go on…,” urged his father.
Looking back down at the box he felt a great courage come over him. He seized the lid firmly in his hand and pried it from the box to reveal a beautiful, polished, wooden sword. The handle was garnered in the finest leather in Akeneia. The blade was from the same piece as the hilt and handle so it would not fall off. Pure, refined mahogany it was. Gabriel’s eyes shone with wonder as he gazed at the magnificent blade of polished cherry paint.
“Happy birthday, son,” said Mr. Tora, smiling nearly from ear to ear.
Gabriel was speechless. A pounding noise was then heard on the door to the greenhouse.
“I-it’s him! Yeager!”
“Go show him a lesson!”
“Yessir!” shouted Gabriel clutching the sword in his fist. He ran at the door and as he approached it the door was thrust open by Yeager. Gabriel Swung his sword with all his might and gave Yeager a good whack on the shoulder with the flat of his blade. Yeager withdrew with a yelp and then swung his fist blindly. At first Gabriel thought he had dodged the hit, but as he saw blood dripping from his face to the ground he knew he had been hit. He took another swing and nailed Yeager square in the leg.
“Leave me alone, you idiot!” yelled Gabriel.
“That’s no fair! You have a weapon!” Yeager began to turn but he was seized quickly my Mr. Tora. He picked him up by the shirt and dragged him out of the greenhouse.
Next, it seemed as if Gabriel took a hit to the chest by some unknown force. Or perhaps it was Felix urging me awake. I saw no more of the dream.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was true. Felix the Cavalier had been stamping his foot firmly on his chest trying to wake him up. It was now night time.
“What’s going on? Did Gabriel get hurt?” said Vincent half asleep.
“What?! What are you talking about?”
“Huh? Oh…. Felix. What’s wrong?”
“The army is ready to storm the fortress. We’ve been looking all over the camp for you for the last half hour!”
“Ready to storm Odin Fortress?” asked Vincent, still half asleep, not knowing what he was truly asking.
“No! Ready to storm my mother’s house- of course Odin Fortress you twit!” replied Felix sarcastically. “Get up! We are ready to go and waiting on you!”
“Oh, sorry.”
Vincent and Felix hopped down the rocks on which Vincent was napping and once they reached the gathering point, all eyes were glared upon Vincent.
“I found this bum sleeping on the rocks” said Felix.
Rachel, a young mage girl about the age of seventeen, began muttering to Vincent as he took his usual post next to her:
“What were you thinking?! Sleeping on the job!” she said.
“I didn’t know we were almost ready to depart.” Vincent replied.
“It took us two hours since Arch left you there! That’s not called ‘almost ready’.”
“Sorry, mother,” said Vincent in a sarcastic tone.
“Can the fate of King Mars and Queen Shiida really depend upon such a lazy bunch?” said Rachel, turning away from Vincent.
“Mars and Shiida can hold their own. Besides, we’re on our way. However slowly that may be.” said Vincent, closing the conversation. Thus, they marched on, to meet with the scout troop, with high spirits and unexplainable understanding for Vincent's laziness.
TO BE CONTINUED
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Closing comments:
So, as the small army of Commander Archrith of the house of Crellius in Altea, Vincent begins pondering the meaning of the strange dream he had. Gaining control of the Odin Fortress would be a great aspect for the Crellius Army in their quest to find The King and Queen of Altea. Wondering how this came to be? Be checking for chapter 1 of Fire Emblem: KoLH!
COMMENTS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!!!!
