Story Forging Bonds

[Tangerine]

A calm, stiff breeze weaved amidst the sea of tents within the camp. The temporary abodes of tattered cloth and linen stretched in rows, leaving narrow spine-like pathways in the space between them. The fabric whipped around, restrained only by several meager wooden stakes at the corners. A darkly attired, masked man strode along one such causeway, walking alone. The tent-backs that flanked him concealed his passage from the prying eyes of passers-by. Soldiers scuttled about on their business and duties, a fusion of anticipation and fear crossing many a face. The coming battle filled the air.

The dark clothed man knew of the coming struggle, but neither hurried his pace nor let his mind wander to places of fear or doubt. He continued on his way, seemingly unphased by the threat of war and combat.

"Gerome."

He turned backwards to face his hailer, a brown haired myrmidon who had just entered the passage between the tents.

"Fathe—" he caught himself. "Lon'qu. What do you want?"

Lon'qu's lips slanted in what Gerome could gather to be a smirk of approval. "You almost said it again."

"I told you not to get used to it. If that is your reason for stopping me, then you're wasting my time."

"I was going to prepare my equipment, and I oft use this path. It's more...solitary." Lon'qu tried to make small talk, but Gerome simply waited in grudging silence.

Lon'qu's eyes narrowed and he sighed. "The battle will be joined soon. We had best prepare."

"I am prepared." Gerome clenched his gauntlets around the shaft of his battleaxe, iron gripping iron. "Don't delay me any longer. I must prepare Minerva."

Lon'qu paused. "Very well."

Gerome turned and moved onwards, called after by the brooding swordsman. "Can I count on your blade today?"

He stopped and quickly rounded. "Live or die. My blade cannot change fate. There is no point in protecting the doomed." With that, he drove onwards towards the stables, axe in hand.

"So you've said . . . but what if the doomed are your family?"

Despite his father's protestations, his pace did not slow as he called back over his shoulder. "I fight alone."

Tightening the straps of his saddle one last time, Gerome again glanced up to survey the battlefield, squinting through his mask. Before him lay an open plain of green, occupied only by a river cutting across its center. A few sparse boulders and trees dotted the landscape. Several hundred meters away, he could make out the shambling frames of the enemy, the glow of their red, empty eyes gleaming visibly in the daylight. At the head of the Shepherds was Robin, collectedly calling out final words of instruction and encouragement to the troop before they sallied out to meet the enemy.

"Our bonds—the ties that we forge—they are our strength. These fallen creatures have none. They bring nothing but death . . . and in return, we will bring them no less. To me, Shepherds!"

Gerome said nothing as hollers and cheers issued from the soldiers surrounding him. As the fighting force jogged and trotted forward in advance, he spurred Minerva aloft. Cynthia and Sumia sped past him, lances raised, as Minerva gained altitude. They swerved to the right flank of the field.

Gerome's voice barely carried over the sound of Minerva's thrashing wings, but her sharply attentive ears caught wind of his command.

"Let's move. To the left."

Muscles rippling, Minerva roared in obedience and threw herself towards the left flank, speeding against the foes stationed there. Holding onto her saddle with one hand, Gerome leaned over her side to survey his targets. Scanning the enemy, he spotted a bow and quiver amidst the blinding glint of armor below.

"Minerva, archer! Dive!" Patting her neck, he leaned close against her as she fell into a heavy slope downwards. He opened his mouth to call out further orders, but the gale-force winds relentlessly pummeled his face as they fell, halting his words before they could emerge. He grit his teeth and continued the dive. Pressing his thighs deep into Minerva's side to avoid being thrown from her back, he used both hands to lift his axe. In position, he focused and listened. Upon hearing a faint whistling he quickly tugged on Minerva's reins, forcing the wyvern to drift sideways in her descent. As she broke her dive several feet shy of the ground, an arrow flew past her right flank.

"Now charge!"

Gerome was not sure if Risen felt fear, but he mused that this one did—internally quaking as a roaring wyvern and rider bore down upon it. He inwardly smirked. Swooping down, Minerva passed to the right of the target, giving her master an opportunity to strike. Carefully timing his blow, Gerome drew his arms back and snapped them forward again, cleaving against the rushing air. As his axe hewed the archer's light armor, he heard the sound of leather and iron disintegrating before his blow. As the pair flew past their target, Gerome tightly gripped his axe. Bone and sinew gave way to steel as he wrenched it free, a guttural, unearthly howl signifying the trueness of his blow. Ascending again, he glanced back to see the form evaporating into a cloud of purple ash and smoke. Without prompting, Minerva dove toward a pair of swordsmen below.

"Steady now."

Minerva pounded the air with her imposing wings, halting a dozen meters from her prey. As she steadied herself, one of the Risen charged forward to meet her.

"Attack the one in the rear! Destroy him!"

With a shout, Gerome spurred her forward. Waiting until Minerva passed over the first swordsman, Gerome suddenly leapt from saddle and mount to assail the charging creature. Snarls and otherworldly screams bellowed from behind him as Minerva pounced upon her quarry. Silence again fell, his axe following close behind. With supernatural agility, the decaying fiend parried his attack, glancing the full weight of his blow harmlessly to the side with its silver sword. Both blades caught rays of sunlight and sparks flew as they ricocheted apart. Using the momentum of his deflected attack, Gerome spun around, allowing the force to carry his axe into a second strike. Within a moment of the first deferred blow, his axe lay embedded in the Risen's chest. There was a short silence that followed. When no purple death issued from the creature, Gerome knew that the fight was not over. With a death-rattling groan, the creature lashed out at him with its blade. Axe still entrenched within the monster, Gerome had nothing to defend himself with. Ducking under the axe handle, he pressed against the creature's body, taking cover behind the weapon still embedded in its abdomen. As silver fell against steel, the blow glancing harmlessly off his weapon, Gerome seized the axe and lurched away with all his speed and might. The cleaver shuddered momentarily before dislodging, leaving an oozing cavity of blood and darkness in its wake. Facing about to stand guard, Gerome barely blocked the second strike of the creature with the long shaft of his war axe. The two combatants, weapons locked, pushed against each other in a contest of raw might and mettle.

I am not too proud to give way...

Gerome withdrew his effort, letting the strength of the monster win out. Leaping to the side, he narrowly dodged the blade as it slipped off his axe. The sword whistled through the air and into the grassy soil below. With one swing, he beheaded the defenseless creature, the body collapsing into fibrous dust around him. All that remained was its wielderless sword, jutting out of the ground.

With no more enemies left standing in the immediate area, he took a moment to discern the progress of the battle. His comrades had just as quickly dispatched their foes, the zenith of the battle having already passed. As the Shepherds cleaned the remnant Risen from the field, he quickly retreated, his talents no longer needed. After several minutes of lonely flight, save for Minerva's company, he arrived at the empty camp. After resituating Minerva in the stables, he decided to enjoy the several minutes of solitude he had before the rest of the force returned. The typical post-battle haze that hung over him had begun to lift, and he was suddenly hungry; he glanced up at the sun and realized it was almost midday. Finding his way to the main road, he made for the mess tent. With the camp vacant, he found his walk to be just as private as his journey between the tents. After a short walk he arrived, pushing aside the tent flap and finding it empty. He stepped inside and sat down at a table in the middle of the room, quietly thinking to himself. The thunder of hooves reached his ears as the Shepherds began to return, first the fliers and horsemen, then the foot soldiers, and lastly the knights. As he expected, the first to arrive at the mess tent was Stahl, his stomach audibly growling as it often did. He walked past Gerome and made for the table closest to the food line, casting a cheerful "Hello!" towards him as he passed.

Gerome dipped his head in acknowledgment, but made no sound. He maintained his silence as the others arrived, recognizing those who bothered to greet him. It took roughly half an hour before a quorum of Shepherds had assembled and food began being served. He joined the line despite the unholy smell wafting from the kitchen area. Reminding himself that he had to eat did not help appetize him to the foul odored soup in his bowl. He returned to his seat. He sat alone for some time, aimlessly stirring the unappealing meal before him. Within his bowl was a stew-like substance, its broth black in color. Small bits of what he presumed to be meat floated in it. He glanced around distractedly, hoping to somehow delay tasting it. As he surveyed the room, he saw Stahl hastily devouring his portion, keen on getting seconds before the others were likely to have begun their firsts. Before he could hazard a bite, Gerome's attention was drawn to the entrance as Cherche and Lon'qu walked inside together. His father had a typical blank, hardened expression set upon his face, while his mother wore a contented smile, her arm locked in Lon'qu's as she nearly dragging him along. As they approached, Gerome attempted to look busy, pretending to spoon some of the stew into his mouth. The smell was horrendous. His stomach turned within moments of it entering his nostrils; he couldn't help but speculate who had concocted such a vile brew.

Kjelle must be on cooking duty today...

Gerome took a bite, cringing as he chewed through the gamey meat, his attempt to act nonchalant failing as he nearly choked—it was bear. Near the entrance of the tent, he could see Frederick dumping the contents of his bowl into Sumia's, explaining to his wife with an insistent smile that "she needed to keep up her strength.”

As his parents passed, he sensed Cherche pause. Lon'qu continued walking, getting in line to fill their bowls with stew. Painfully aware of each others’ presence, they both waited in silence for several moments before Cherche spoke. "Gerome, might I have a word?"

The option of stealth being out of the question, he replied coldly, not turning to face her. "If you must."

"May I sit?"

He grunted in response. "Do as you wish."

Circling the table, she sat in front of him. "Must you give us the cold shoulder, Gerome? Our intention is simply to get to know our son."

"I passed through time and left my world behind to make a difference, not to make friends. But as far as I have seen, we can only defy fate for a time. It will find its mark, even on you. I will not suffer that loss again."

His mother frowned. "You fear losing us again, and yet you would do nothing to avert that fate?"

Her question was met with stony silence.

Lon'qu returned presently with their bowls of stew, which they began eating without complaint. Having been lost in thought, Cherche cocked her head and questioned him again.

"Why did you join the Shepherds?"

Seeing that he could not easily extricate himself from the conversation, he answered reluctantly. "I had hoped to accomplish with others what I could not alone. But I was a fool. At our full strength, the best we can do is delay the inevitable. Even if we could make a difference, I still would have no need for friends. The fewer friends I have now, the fewer dead friends I'll have later." He paused to breathe, his voice growing in intensity. "Furthermore, any interactions I have risk altering the future. I see no advantage in what you seek."

Lon'qu interjected suddenly, his rough, low voice being barely audible amidst the noise of the mess hall.

"You said yourself that your blade will make no difference. That fate cannot be challenged. Why then do you fight?"

The question caught him off guard.

Nodding in agreement, Cherche added to her husband's thought. "Gerome, if you don't believe you can change fate intentionally, why do you worry about altering it by accident?"

Gerome quickly rose, his mask inadequately hiding his flustered anger.

"This conversation is over." While he was tempted to call Minerva to his side for a quick escape, he thought it better to leave the mess tent in tact. He stalked outside, his parents staring after him in somber silence.

Worse still, he didn’t have an answer. He was convinced that he could not change fate, while simultaneously being afraid he might do so. Even with a mask, his parents had seen straight through him, disarming him without a single blow. If a few words were enough to undercut his conviction…

It is better to stay silent, perhaps.

Gerome pulled his lance from the fallen brigand in front of him, the man's eyes still agape with shock and fright. The ground was littered with barbarian corpses, their shirtless bodies scarred and bloodied by the combat. Gerome's lance was sullied with their blood; he thrust it into the ground, the grass and soil cleaning it of any stain. Quickly retrieving it, he scanned the surrounding plains for any new foes to dispatch. As far as he could tell, none still stood to oppose them. When he was about to retire from the battlefield, a deafening screech sounded from the forest at the edge of the field. Apparently attracted by the din of the previous skirmish, dozens of Risen streamed from the dark forest, leaving trails of purple cinders behind them. Panicked calls to regroup filled the air as the Shepherds hastily struggled to draw ranks again. Still more Risen poured from the forest. For the first time, Gerome counted wyverns among their numbers, three in total. Contrasting their appearance of animalistic stupidity, the Risen seemed exceptionally organized. The Shepherds' line had finally come together; it rushed forward to meet the enemy. Gerome, being strongest in the sky, targeted the wyvern riders. Nudging Minerva with his heels, they sped off towards the battlefront. Hoping to stay out of sight until the appointed time to strike, Gerome urged her upwards, achieving an uncomfortably high altitude; the clouds served as excellent camouflage, however. After a minute of flying, they found themselves directly over their three wyvern-riding foes.

"Stop," he commanded Minerva. If wyverns could smile, which Gerome of course believed they could, she grinned from horn to horn when he gave her the order. No matter how old Minerva got, she always found great thrill in a free fall. Obediently, she stopped moving her wings and dropped soundlessly towards her prey. Gerome faced his spear downwards as they dropped. Taking the first rider completely unawares, Gerome's lance completely penetrated both rider and beast, effectively skewering them together. Unable to retrieve his weapon from such a thrust, he let go to escape being pulled down with the now-dead weight. Minerva instinctively began flapping her wings again, howling in triumph at her master's kill. Drawing his axe, Gerome spotted the other two wyvern riders beginning to charge him. Daring not defend against two airborne foes with nothing but a short-axe, he commanded Minerva to dive down towards their allies with all speed. Both foes pursued. The chase quickly led to the ground where Gerome called out a command, wyverns hot on his heels.

"Turn around!"

Minerva instantly slanted upwards and whipped around with one smooth motion of her wings, giving Gerome opportunity to strike as his opponents careened past him towards the ground. As he struck at the enemy wyverns, still helpless in the midst of their dives, he caused them to recoil from his blade. Losing their balance, they wavered precariously above the ground. While they were still stunned, Minerva dashed between them. Targeting the riders, Gerome sliced twice, scrawling an "X" with his axe at their shadowy forms. The two Risen tumbled limply to the ground below. To his surprise, once their riders had fallen, their mounts seemed to have no interest in violence. The hollow darkness of their eyes suddenly brightened and their pupils turned from bloodshot to white again. Happily, the freed creatures roared before flapping away from the battleground. Gerome took a moment to watch them go, as did Minerva, before returning to check on the state of the battle. They slowly drifted down to the ground to get a better look. Heaving a sigh of exertion, Gerome scanned the horizon with his narrow vision, his gaze impeded by his mask. Near the axis of the battle, his father was locked in combat with a Risen that looked like it had been a Great Knight in its previous life. Lon'qu struck with precision and strength, his body and blade dancing around the heavily armored horseman. His attack was relentless. Though his blade made contact many times, the beast's armor held fast. It struck back with its lance, jabbing downwards at a nigh impossible target. The myrmidon dashed behind the horse, aiming to strike the creature from the rear. As he pulled back his blade to stab, the horse suddenly kicked backwards, its heavy hoof connecting with Lon'qu's chest. He was instantly tossed backwards, his guard down as he struggled to get up.

"Father!" Gerome shouted and spurred Minerva forward, speeding towards his defenseless kin. "Gods, not today . . . I won’t endure it again!"

As the Risen sprung forward, lance poised to strike, a flash of blue passed by the horseman and arrived at Lon'qu's side.

"I'll keep you safe!"

There was a grinding clash of metal against metal heard across the battlefield. Gerome searched for the source of the voice amidst the tumult. Crouched over Lon'qu's fallen form was Lucina, her drawn rapier holding back the lance from its target. Having blocked the initial strike, she continued to parry the blows of the Risen as Lon'qu rose slowly, his breath sputtering. With great effort, he stumbled to his feet and humbly backed away from danger. Gerome could see that Lucina was no better equipped to face a lance-wielder than Lon'qu had been, her rapier lacking the reach to properly attack. He urged Minerva to fly faster. Seeing Gerome's fast approach, Lucina adopted a defensive stance and kept the creature's attention on her, trying to fend it off until he arrived. He and Minerva silently drew into striking distance, making no noise to betray their presence, save for the rhythmic beating of her wings. Approaching from behind, he drew back his axe and swung a heavy blow. The hit connected, knocking the Risen from its horse. Dismounting quickly, Gerome trotted to his fallen foe and dispatched it with one strike to the head. Exhausted both physically and from panic, he took several moments to collect himself. Once he had caught his breath, he turned to Lucina, who was still standing nearby. Though she wore his mask no more in combat, she was still garbed in her outfit that was reminiscent of the hero king’s. She smiled as he approached.

"You have my thanks, Lucina. I would not have made it in time." He dipped his head in respect.

"I don't deserve your gratitude, Gerome. I count you and your father as friends. Any of us would have done the same." There was a long pause before she turned back towards Lon'qu, who was still breathing heavily and trying not to clutch his chest. "I should check on him."

Gerome nodded in response and rejoined Minerva. The skirmish was winding to a close and allies swarmed all around. A girl carrying a heavy healing staff ran past, joining Lucina by Lon'qu's side. His father tried to extricate himself from the two women, but lacked the strength to protest or recoil. He gritted his teeth and endured as his wounds were attended to.

Lucina's words rang in Gerome's head as he mounted and flew away.

Any of us would have done the same.

He hung his head, as if his mask was not adequate to conceal his shame. His mind turned back to his father’s request. He had the chance to protect a comrade, a kinsman—his father . . . and he had not. He had refused to do the same.

"Lucina? I need to speak with you." Gerome had been restless ever since the battle that afternoon; he had finally tracked Lucina down, barely recognizing her in the growing darkness.

"What is it, Gerome?" Her smile was warm as she turned to face him, contrasting the chilly air that surrounded them.

"It's about those of us who traveled from the future. What is our purpose here?"

She paused slightly, a hint of confusion showing. "I certainly hope you knew that before you agreed to come with us." Seeing that he was clearly unsatisfied with her answer, she continued. "We all have our reasons, but I am here to avert our future from coming to pass. No one should have to endure what our world has."

Gerome shook his head. "You yourself have said that time always favors its original course. Take your efforts to save the exalt as an example."

"That is true. I don't know if I can change the past or the future, but I choose to challenge my fate. Our fate."

"Is that why you tried to save my father?"

She replied without hesitation, smiling. "I helped your father because he was a friend who needed aid, and I was there to furnish it."

Gerome nodded. "Unless I had seen it with my own eyes, I would still count you a fool for believing that fate is changeable. But I cannot deny what I have seen. I believed that nothing could alter our destiny, and did not bother trying to do so." His eyes fell downcast in remorse and he gritted his teeth. "My father—he asked me to fight with him last battle . . . to watch his back. I refused. If not for you and our journey to this time, he would have died where he lay. Perhaps fate can be averted—at least for a time. You have my thanks."

"You're most welco—," she began to respond, but was quickly cut off as he continued.

"However, while saving a life is understandable, that does not explain why you call him a friend," Gerome challenged.

She eyed him quizzically. "Is he not our friend and comrade?"

"It matters not what he is to us. This is not our time, Lucina. We have no place here. Why should we build bonds that we will have to break as soon as we are born in this time?"

She cringed at his words, turning her face away.

Gerome pressed on, too enveloped in his speech to notice her reaction. "Would you have us steal our own futures away? I expected you, among all of us, to understand that . . . this world's Lucina has already been born, and the rest of us will soon follow. The closer we become to the people of this time, the harder it will be to pull away . . . as we must." Gerome finished his rant and turned to face Lucina. To his surprise, her eyes were filled with tears.

"I—I know. It isn't our place to be here, Gerome." Her lips quivered as she spoke. "But our task is not yet done here. I would like to enjoy their company while we can."

Though taken aback by such a rare showing of emotion, he cautiously replied, his tone measured. "Surely we can protect them without building relationships and meddling with this time. Every interaction risks changing something. You know this, so why do you insis—"

Lucina tightly grabbed his wrist as he spoke, cutting his words short as he slightly recoiled.

"The bonds we have in this army are strong, Gerome. Without them, I fear we cannot win this fight. A time may come when we have to break them..." She released his hand and stepped back, her eyes distant. "...but not now." With a tear-stained smile, she briskly walked away into the night before Gerome could collect his thoughts. He was left alone in the bitter cold to stew over his thoughts.

At the eve of the next battle, Gerome found himself by Lucina's side. He flew to her as they approached the Longfort, the defenders upon the thick walls under heavy duress from Risen attackers. The ice laden air stung any exposed skin, leaving the part of his face uncovered by his mask reddened and numb. With a shout from Chrom, the procession was halted and all ears were turned toward the front of the line.

"Shepherds! Regna Ferox has come to our defense in our time of need before, and now the time has come to return the favor. Let's give these Feroxi soldiers some breathing room!" Chrom reared his horse and lifted Falchion aloft, raising a cry of vigor from the assembled force.

Gerome gazed down the snow-filled road, the Longfort looming in front of them. Risen forces were piled at its gates; the air was filled with arrows and inhuman roars as the Feroxi border guards beat back their assailants. Several days before, Ferox had called for aid. Their armies were already stretched thin from the conflict with Valm, and now they faced assault from the Risen along their southern border as well.

Lucina, who had been fixated on the enemy before them, noticed his presence. A faint smile crossed her chapped lips as she spoke.

"I thought you fought alone. Did you change your mind?"

"No. I owe you a debt, and I intend to repay it here."

Lucina sighed, trying not to sound exasperated. "You owe me nothing Gerome—though I won't object to your company. It is reward enough, if you truly insist on such unnecessary payment."

Though it was impossible to tell because of his cold-reddened cheeks, his face slightly flushed at her words; While embarrassing, they warmed his heart.

"I will be your shadow in the air. Direct me and Minerva as you will." He bowed his head in fealty. "We will strike down any who dare oppose you."

She nodded determinedly, drawing her Falchion from its sheath. "Try to keep up." Charging ahead, she joined the rest of the force in their advance. As he followed her lead, he found himself amongst the main body of the force. The presence of so many soldiers surrounding him, though they were allies, made him uncomfortable. With little room to maneuver, he followed close behind Lucina, hoping she would break away from the rest of the army. As the road opened up into a clearing, the noise of battle grew closer in his ears. Their enemies came into sight at last; the force was composed of several heavily armored generals, a few cavaliers, and a band of archers. For the first time, Gerome saw Risen wielding magic tomes. New enemies had been appearing with every encounter, and their arsenals grew in diversity and lethality. The undead valkyries, mounted on horseback, shot bolts of fire and lightning against the towering wall. As the magic struck the Fort, large chunks of stone and mortar shattered and fell to the ground; ash, dust, and stone showered the snow below. The Shepherds sized up their enemy quickly, and sent word to the convoy for weapons. Within minutes, dozens of Ylissean soldiers arrived bearing extra spears, hammers, and bows. One such soldier ran up to Gerome, handing him a hammer. He hefted it with one hand, testing its weight. It was surprisingly light for its size, at least to someone with his strength. Once the whole company was properly outfitted, it charged into battle. Despite the snow beneath her boots, Lucina dashed forward with surprising speed. As the two of them pulled ahead of the main force, the soft crunching of snow beneath her feet was all that could be heard amidst the sounds of battle ahead.

The Risen were unaware of them.

Before Lucina and Gerome, a pair of generals were heaving lances at the Feroxi defenders upon the wall. They turned upon hearing Minerva in flight. They were too late.

Lucina's sword glowed with blue, fiery moonlight as she approached her target. Before the armor-encumbered foe could react, she had impaled it through the abdomen. It let out a screech, which was suddenly cut off as it crumbled into dust.

Gerome and the second general's emotionless gazes met. Neither moved for a moment, as Minerva was hovering just out of range. Gerome grunted in contempt and raised his weapon.

"This is farewell!"

Minerva dove, shooting forward at a dizzying pace. Gerome's hammer fell. Making contact with the helmet of the Risen, the hammer evoked a sickening noise as metal crunched and folded beneath its mighty blow. Seconds later, no trace of his foe remained, a heap of blackened snow and a fallen lance being the only evidence to its existence.

Gerome scanned his surroundings, trying to gauge the battlefield with his limited vision. He wished he could simply rip off his mask, but he quickly pushed away the thought. No longer distracted by combat, he suddenly realized that Lucina was no longer at his side. Looking around, he saw her engaged with a swordmaster a dozen yards away. She was no doubt holding her own, but the scuffle had attracted the attention of several nearby Valkyries. Gerome could see their tomes glowing as they chanted broken words; spectral glyphs began to hover around them as they prepared their magic.

"Minerva! It's time to repay our debt."

She dove towards Lucina without any further prompting.

Gerome didn't bother calling out a warning—there was no time for that. As the reached Lucina, a crackling bolt of lightning was already in midair. Leaping from Minerva's back, he kicked her away to safety, prompting a roar of despair as she attempted to right herself and return to her master. Gerome fell in-between Lucina and the bolt. He raised his hammer, though he doubted it would absorb much of the attack, and braced himself.

Electricity coursed through his body, paralyzing him with shock and pain. He fell into the snow, his onyx armor sizzling against the cold ground. As his vision faded in and out, he saw Lucina's lips form his name, though he heard nothing. With renewed vigor, she sliced off the sword hand of her opponent and ran him through. Not bothering to make sure her foe was dead, she dashed towards him and slid to her knees by Gerome’s side.

He winced as his hearing slowly began to return, his ears ringing violently. Lucina was still mouthing his name as she leaned above him; it sounded far away as she repeated it. He vaguely felt her grab his shoulders, trying to shake him, but she quickly recoiled as his armor singed her hands. Too exhausted to keep his head up, it fell sideways into the snow. A distant roar echoed in his ears as he perceived Minerva charging his attackers, ignoring the bolts that whizzed by her as she ripped them apart.

His lips parted as the world began to fade.

"My debt . . . is repaid." He coughed and sputtered. "You have to live . . . you have to change things. Don't let my parents join me . . . this time . . ."

With that, his senses faded. The last thing he heard was a promise.

"I will, Gerome. I'll change fate for you . . . for us all."

Edited February 2, 2016 by Tangerine

[Freohr Datia]

w-wow.... that ending though :c

But I liked this story on Gerome's development~!

[Meldorn]

Thank you! Gerome gets called undeveloped a lot, but it's been awesome to delve into his supports and see how deep his character really is. Edgy, yes--but not shallow :P. And Gerome x Lucina was too good to pass up as well.

Edited February 4, 2016 by Meldorn

[Shadows Interceptor]

I can't say I was ever a huge fan of Gerome, but I love the way you represented him here. Very well done!

[Jotari]

*reset game, reload last chapter* Best way to change fate.

[Meldorn]

Alas, real life is an Iron-man run. Someone tell the developers to add casual mode. ;_;


Edit: If you're thinking about leaving constructive feedback or criticism, please do. I'm always looking to improve, and it also gives me a chance to get to know some of you guys. I shant be offended :P.

Edited February 6, 2016 by Meldorn

[Balcerzak]

There's honestly not a whole lot to criticize here, nothing stood out as objectively wrong, and the few things I noticed were all subjective preference that I didn't feel strongly enough to raise. When you do enough things right, it usually convinces me to leave well enough alone.

Edited February 6, 2016 by Balcerzak

[Meldorn]

It's fine if any of the feedback you might have is nitpicky :P. It's nice to see how people perceive and react to your work, even if it is subjective. And from the awesome critiques you've left on the other works, I'm sure it would be helpful.

Edited February 7, 2016 by Meldorn

[Balcerzak]

It's fine if any of the feedback you might have is nitpicky :P. It's nice to see how people perceive and react to your work, even if it is subjective. And from the awesome critiques you've left on the other works, I'm sure it would be helpful.

I had to dig deep for some of these, and I honestly feel kind of bad I couldn't find anything better to give you...

[spoiler=very minor, much nitpick, wow]

"I am prepared." Gerome clenched his gauntlets around the shaft of his battleaxe, iron gripping iron. "Don't delay me any longer. I must prepare Minerva."

"I am prepared. Now let me go prepare." It's a little comical, really. Not necessarily a mistake or anything, could be entirely just Gerome's character shining through.

Gerome turned and moved onwards, called after by the brooding swordsman. "Can I count on your blade today?"

The first time I read this piece I missed the crucial implications revolving around this line. I'm sure it was mostly my fault, I don't know if I was hurrying myself along or not, but this is specifically the part that Gerome refers back to when he's later discussing with Lucina how he could have better protected his father, and the impact of that later scene is heavily dependent on the reader fully appreciating this first one, either as it happens or in a big enough way that they page back and go over it again. I'm not sure why, either, but the way it's written I was slightly confused at first as to who the speaker was (though context does clear it up). I don't honestly have any good suggestions to offer here, but you're begging for crit, so I'm digging for even things I can't readily suggest a fix for.

Upon hearing a faint whistling he quickly tugged on Minerva's reins, forcing the wyvern to drift sideways in her descent.

I don't like the word "drift" here, and I'm not exactly sure why, I might have used "shift", "swerve", or some other word. I think perhaps it is because I associate "drift" with a loss of control (spinning out on a snowing road or something, idk), whereas here you're indicating a very deliberate action. Then again, I'm sure "drift" has some sort of technical meaning in the racing world that perhaps this is being applied to without me recognizing it.

Bone and sinew gave way to steel as he wrenched it free

The first time I read this I mistakenly thought you were trying to say there was steel inside the Risen. (Mentally pictured it like cutting through layers of cake or something, got through the bone layer, then the sinew layer, next is the steel layer.) On second read it's obvious what the correct reading is, so I'm sure I was just tired originally, because it's really a fine phrase, but little things like this might have been coloring my initial critique, and why I really didn't want to call anything out when you do so much right, because I should be (rightly) second-guessing myself in most instances. But you asked nicely, so I'll gladly embarrass myself a little here and there. It's probably because my brain is already racing to paint the scene, and then by the time it gets to the half of the phrase ("as he wrenched it free" indicating he's pulling it out, rather than continuing to swing it in a follow-through) that indicates I need to adjust my initial conception, there's a bit of resistance.

Facing about to stand guard, Gerome barely blocked the second strike of the creature with the long shaft of his war axe.

I can appreciate that "facing about" is actually a term, and fits the situation, but for some reason my brain sees "about to stand guard" and insists that this is the lumping of words I should be reading the sentence with instead, making it a real struggle. Again, you've done nothing really wrong but at least one reader is going to double-take here, and that's the sort of thing I think you'd hope to avoid.

Maybe you could try: "Facing about, in order to stand guard," with a little extra punctuation and some unnecessary words, to help make a crystal clear delineation? I don't honestly know. It could be the comma lover in me trying to shoehorn in one where it doesn't belong, after all.

With the camp vacant, he found his walk to be just as private as his journey between the tents. After a short walk he arrived, pushing aside the tent flap and finding it empty.

Not huge, but you use "walk" twice in somewhat near proximity. Maybe consider a synonym?

He stepped inside and sat down at a table in the middle of the room, quietly thinking to himself.

When you have a phrase like "quietly thinking to himself" it almost feels like a transition that should lead into describing that thought, but it never comes in this case. Maybe something like "engaging in a little quiet contemplation" would convey the same thing without as direct a build up?

He returned to his seat. He sat alone for some time, aimlessly stirring the unappealing meal before him.

The first sentence is one of your shortest, most basic, and it stands out a little from the crowd because of it. Unlike some others, it doesn't really seem to be that way deliberately, for emphasis (as the upcoming "The smell was horrendous" clearly is.) It feels like you could easily blend it into the second: "He returned to his seat, sitting alone for some time, aimlessly stirring..."

while his mother wore a contented smile, her arm locked in Lon'qu's as she nearly dragging him along.

Finally, an actual objective error. This should be, "as she nearly dragged him along".

Nodding in agreement, Cherche added to her husband's thought. "Gerome, if you don't believe you can change fate intentionally, why do you worry about altering it by accident?"

Gerome quickly rose, his mask inadequately hiding his flustered anger.

Possibly a spacing thing here? It looked like these two lines were part of the same paragraph, with only the indenting (and well, common sense) giving away your intentions.

he thought it better to leave the mess tent in tact.

Pretty sure you mean "intact" here. Though, I guess with a bit of a stretch your original also works. Huzzah for dual meanings, amiright?

As he pulled back his blade to stab, the horse suddenly kicked backwards, its heavy hoof connecting with Lon'qu's chest. He was instantly tossed backwards, his guard down as he struggled to get up.

Backwards and backwards, close together.

Though she wore his mask no more in combat, she was still garbed in her outfit that was reminiscent of the hero kings.

Though she no longer wore her mask in combat,

Fixed the pronoun, and even though I like the construstion "wore her mask no more" when you continue to follow that with "in combat" it feels like it's starting to get a little too messy for my liking.

His eyes fell downcast in remorse and he gritted his teeth. "My fatherhe asked me to fight with him last battle . . . to watch his back.

This might be a remnant from a previous draft, or perhaps Gerome simply isn't letting himself be bothered by specifics. The question actually came at the beginning of the day, and this is the second battle, the two having been separated by the bear stew lunch (RIP Frederick's stomach).

the harder it will be to pull away . . . as we must."

A time may come when we have to break them..."

Your ellipsis spacing is inconsistent. Arguments can be made for either, but choose one and stick to it.

she briskly walked away into the night before Gerome could collect his thoughts. He was left alone in the bitter cold to stew over his thoughts.

his thoughts, his thoughts (could have easily been "collect his wits" or "get his wits about him" something)

The ice laden air stung[...]

I admit not being 100% on this, but I feel like this is one of the times where you'd need a hyphen in that adjective "ice-laden". Correct me please, if my intuition misses its mark.

"Shepherds! Regna Ferox has come to our defense in our time of need before, and now the time has come to return the favor.

I don't like present perfect here, though I admit the timeline of your tale is somewhat ambiguous to me. I'd still think "Regna Ferox came to our defense" a better choice, but it's not an unassailable position.

As the magic struck the Fort,

If you're using a direct article, it's almost certainly not a proper noun. Exceptions exist, but I think in that case you'd be capitalizing "The" as well...

Making contact with the helmet of the Risen, the hammer evoked a sickening noise as metal crunched and folded beneath its mighty blow.

I don't think "evoke" is the right word to be using here, it's primarily a mental thing, isn't it? I'm trying to come up with similarly flavorful vocabulary that actually works, but struggling a little. "Brought about" feels to plain, maybe "elicited"?

but the scuffle had attracted the attention of several nearby Valkyries.

The undead valkyries, mounted on horseback, shot bolts of fire and lightning against the towering wall.

Consistency please, and given that you're not capitalizing Archers and Generals, you might infer that I have a strong preference for one of the options.

As the reached Lucina, a crackling bolt of lightning was already in midair.

As they

simple typo

[eclipse]

Can't let Bal show me up here~!

Mine's going to be a little different. . .

First off, consistency. First, you have this:

As she broke her dive several feet shy of the ground, an arrow flew past her right flank.

Hmm, nothing wrong so far. A bit further down, I saw this:

Minerva pounded the air with her imposing wings, halting a dozen meters from her prey.

Feet and meters usually don't play well together.

The other consistency issue is how you handle your spoken lines. They seem to follow a set pattern of "double-spaced, spoken lines more-or-less separate unless the reader needs some info regarding the speaker", which is fine. However, stuff like this detracts from it:

"Minerva, archer! Dive!" Patting her neck, he leaned close against her as she fell into a heavy slope downwards. He opened his mouth to call out further orders, but the gale-force winds relentlessly pummeled his face as they fell, halting his words before they could emerge. He grit his teeth and continued the dive. Pressing his thighs deep into Minerva's side to avoid being thrown from her back, he used both hands to lift his axe. In position, he focused and listened. Upon hearing a faint whistling he quickly tugged on Minerva's reins, forcing the wyvern to drift sideways in her descent. As she broke her dive several feet shy of the ground, an arrow flew past her right flank.

Really minor, and I'm quite guilty of this in my own writing, but it's something to consider.

As for the wording issues (which Bal covered nicely), try this thought: If you were telling this story to someone, how would you describe it?

[Meldorn]

Spoiler

 

Thank you so much! Exactly what I was looking for--anything to make the story less awkward.

Several quick responses to just a few of your suggestions, Balcerzak:

"Gerome turned and moved onwards, called after by the brooding swordsman. "Can I count on your blade today?"

The first time I read this piece I missed the crucial implications revolving around this line. I'm sure it was mostly my fault, I don't know if I was hurrying myself along or not, but this is specifically the part that Gerome refers back to when he's later discussing with Lucina how he could have better protected his father, and the impact of that later scene is heavily dependent on the reader fully appreciating this first one, either as it happens or in a big enough way that they page back and go over it again. I'm not sure why, either, but the way it's written I was slightly confused at first as to who the speaker was (though context does clear it up). I don't honestly have any good suggestions to offer here, but you're begging for crit, so I'm digging for even things I can't readily suggest a fix for."

Seeing that that scene is the crux of the story, I'm glad you let me know. I'll try to make that conversation more pronounced in future edits. Hopefully I can be more clear as to who is speaking as well.

"Upon hearing a faint whistling he quickly tugged on Minerva's reins, forcing the wyvern to drift sideways in her descent.

I don't like the word "drift" here, and I'm not exactly sure why, I might have used "shift", "swerve", or some other word. I think perhaps it is because I associate "drift" with a loss of control (spinning out on a snowing road or something, idk), whereas here you're indicating a very deliberate action. Then again, I'm sure "drift" has some sort of technical meaning in the racing world that perhaps this is being applied to without me recognizing it."

What I was going for there was that Gerome was, in fact, making a very deliberate and strong action--and yet him at his strongest has very little effect on such a large beast. Gerome's best "tug" could never force Minerva to "swerve" suddenly. I do like your suggestion of "shift," however, as it still contrasts their strength. Thanks!



"he thought it better to leave the mess tent in tact.

Pretty sure you mean "intact" here. Though, I guess with a bit of a stretch your original also works. Huzzah for dual meanings, amiright?"

 

Yes, I did mean "intact." But if I hadn't screwed it up, I wouldn't get to die laughing about the double meaning now xD. Thanks for pointing that out.

"Though she wore his mask no more in combat, she was still garbed in her outfit that was reminiscent of the hero kings.

Though she no longer wore her mask in combat,

Fixed the pronoun, and even though I like the construstion "wore her mask no more" when you continue to follow that with "in combat" it feels like it's starting to get a little too messy for my liking."



Fun fact: the pronoun is actually right, though I may change it because I didn't provide any context to suggest it is. In Gerome and Lucina's supports, it's revealed that Lucina's mask was actually lent to her by Gerome. He gave it to her right before they traveled back in time, just in case she had need to hide her identity. I totally ship Gerome x Lucina so I just had to throw that in there :P.



"As the magic struck the Fort,

If you're using a direct article, it's almost certainly not a proper noun. Exceptions exist, but I think in that case you'd be capitalizing "The" as well..."

I'm not sure if this is correct (it probably isn't), but I capitalized it intentionally because the "Longfort" is the actual name of the fortress, making it a proper noun. I wanted to vary the name by using its shorter variant, while still making it clear that I was referring to the "Fort", not just a "fort." Does that work, or is it too much of a stretch? If it comes across as an error, I'll change it so it doesn't distract anyone.




Again, I really appreciate the feedback. It's nice to see where my writing style conflicts with how the audience views my work. Even if there's a reason for me to do something a certain way, I don't want to do something that I know will distract readers, and you've shown a lot of points where things could be clearer. Thanks!

 

 

Edited May 6, 2017 by Meldorn

[Balcerzak]

[spoiler=Thank you so much! Exactly what I was looking for--anything to make the story less awkward.]

Fun fact: the pronoun is actually right, though I may change it because I didn't provide any context to suggest it is. In Gerome and Lucina's supports, it's revealed that Lucina's mask was actually lent to her by Gerome. He gave it to her right before they traveled back in time, just in case she had need to hide her identity. I totally ship Gerome x Lucina so I just had to throw that in there :P.

"As the magic struck the Fort,

If you're using a direct article, it's almost certainly not a proper noun. Exceptions exist, but I think in that case you'd be capitalizing "The" as well..."

I'm not sure if this is correct (it probably isn't), but I capitalized it intentionally because the "Longfort" is the actual name of the fortress, making it a proper noun. I wanted to vary the name by using its shorter variant, while still making it clear that I was referring to the "Fort", not just a "fort." Does that work, or is it too much of a stretch? If it comes across as an error, I'll change it so it doesn't distract anyone.

Again, I really appreciate the feedback. It's nice to see where my writing style conflicts with how the audience views my work. Even if there's a reason for me to do something a certain way, I don't want to do something that I know will distract readers, and you've shown a lot of points where things could be clearer. Thanks!

[spoiler=Lucina x Gerome and other issues]

Oh wow, I had no idea. I have to admit, my first and only playthrough of Awakening stalled out when all I had available were Gerome's Paralogue, Tiki's Paralogue, and the vs Walhart chapter, and I didn't want to resort to grinding. I have next to zero knowledge on most of the children characters aside from MU's daughter with Chrom, so I do apologize for mixing that up in my suggestions.

As far as shortening Longfort to Fort, I guess it could maybe be done, but it's not going to be the first assumption most people would make, I don't think. ...Maybe with an apostrophe?

It is such a relief every time I come across someone so genuinely receptive to criticism as yourself. It makes that extra time I spent going back through it a second time all worth it.

Edited February 7, 2016 by Balcerzak

[Jotari]

[spoiler=Thank you so much! Exactly what I was looking for--anything to make the story less awkward.]

Several quick responses to just a few of your suggestions, Balcerzak:

"Gerome turned and moved onwards, called after by the brooding swordsman. "Can I count on your blade today?"

The first time I read this piece I missed the crucial implications revolving around this line. I'm sure it was mostly my fault, I don't know if I was hurrying myself along or not, but this is specifically the part that Gerome refers back to when he's later discussing with Lucina how he could have better protected his father, and the impact of that later scene is heavily dependent on the reader fully appreciating this first one, either as it happens or in a big enough way that they page back and go over it again. I'm not sure why, either, but the way it's written I was slightly confused at first as to who the speaker was (though context does clear it up). I don't honestly have any good suggestions to offer here, but you're begging for crit, so I'm digging for even things I can't readily suggest a fix for."

Seeing that that scene is the crux of the story, I'm glad you let me know. I'll try to make that conversation more pronounced in future edits. Hopefully I can be more clear as to who is speaking as well.

"Upon hearing a faint whistling he quickly tugged on Minerva's reins, forcing the wyvern to drift sideways in her descent.

I don't like the word "drift" here, and I'm not exactly sure why, I might have used "shift", "swerve", or some other word. I think perhaps it is because I associate "drift" with a loss of control (spinning out on a snowing road or something, idk), whereas here you're indicating a very deliberate action. Then again, I'm sure "drift" has some sort of technical meaning in the racing world that perhaps this is being applied to without me recognizing it."

What I was going for there was that Gerome was, in fact, making a very deliberate and strong action--and yet him at his strongest has very little effect on such a large beast. Gerome's best "tug" could never force Minerva to "swerve" suddenly. I do like your suggestion of "shift," however, as it still contrasts their strength. Thanks!

"he thought it better to leave the mess tent in tact.

Pretty sure you mean "intact" here. Though, I guess with a bit of a stretch your original also works. Huzzah for dual meanings, amiright?"

Yes, I did mean "intact." But if I hadn't screwed it up, I wouldn't get to die laughing about the double meaning now xD. Thanks for pointing that out.

"Though she wore his mask no more in combat, she was still garbed in her outfit that was reminiscent of the hero kings.

Though she no longer wore her mask in combat,

Fixed the pronoun, and even though I like the construstion "wore her mask no more" when you continue to follow that with "in combat" it feels like it's starting to get a little too messy for my liking."

Fun fact: the pronoun is actually right, though I may change it because I didn't provide any context to suggest it is. In Gerome and Lucina's supports, it's revealed that Lucina's mask was actually lent to her by Gerome. He gave it to her right before they traveled back in time, just in case she had need to hide her identity. I totally ship Gerome x Lucina so I just had to throw that in there :P.

"As the magic struck the Fort,

If you're using a direct article, it's almost certainly not a proper noun. Exceptions exist, but I think in that case you'd be capitalizing "The" as well..."

I'm not sure if this is correct (it probably isn't), but I capitalized it intentionally because the "Longfort" is the actual name of the fortress, making it a proper noun. I wanted to vary the name by using its shorter variant, while still making it clear that I was referring to the "Fort", not just a "fort." Does that work, or is it too much of a stretch? If it comes across as an error, I'll change it so it doesn't distract anyone.

Again, I really appreciate the feedback. It's nice to see where my writing style conflicts with how the audience views my work. Even if there's a reason for me to do something a certain way, I don't want to do something that I know will distract readers, and you've shown a lot of points where things could be clearer. Thanks!

I think the fort idea would work a lot better in dialogue. Even if it's quasi internal monologue it does come across as a little clunky.

[Hakuramen]

I thoroughly enjoyed reading this piece! Quite the nice balance of tense action scenes and measured character interactions and introspective moments. You have a way with words, and I could vividly see those scenes of the battlefield as massive, tense, bloodshed but with a strong and sympathetic core to help anchor the reader into caring for Gerome!

It all feels very cinematic. Nice work!

[Meldorn]

Thank you, Hakuramen! That's really encouraging to hear. When I write, I usually have a movie of what's happening in my head--that's why writing excites me so much. The hard part is describing what I'm seeing in such a way that other people can get excited about it too. I'm glad you had that experience. To me, the thought of moving a creative idea from one mind to another is a lot more satisfying than getting a few votes in a contest :P. Thanks for letting me know!

[Guren808]

I like Gerome as a unit, I found no problems with him. Best part he's a wyvern rider, my favorite class in the game! This was great to read! It makes me want to up my writing game!!! So jelly and I like it!