Fire Emblem: The Great Divide

"And what exactly does that entail?" Caderyn asked, turning to the black-winged warrior. "Do I simply need to protect the village whenever it's in danger, or are there other duties I must perform?"

"I will show you the place you are to guard, and I will walk you through your duties, Lord Caedryn. We can make that journey today or tomorrow. Whichever you prefer," Halcyon said.

Meanwhile, the sage was answering Cairbre's question in the simplest way (for an outsider) that he knew possible. "The Guardian protects a certain sacred ground, while the Keeper has numerous responsibilities."

"That is not for outsiders to know."

"That's understandable." Cairbre's face went blank as he said that.

 The grassy plains swished back and forth, the wind sifting through them. But a patch of grass remained untouched. A man sat cross-legged, his turquoise eyes closed. There was a beautiful sound coming from the object in his hands. The flute wailed as the man played. He was tall, and wore robes that belonged to the clergy rather than a traveler. His skin was a mocha color; he had been in the sun for years with little resting inside homes. The peculiar thing about this man was the small, orange wings fluttering every so often. His hair matched this shade of his wings, taking on a more red-orange look. Everything about him(including his hair) was feather-like. His white robes didn't quite match the red lining they had, yet it seemed to fit him perfectly, including the little hood attached. 

Then there was the red hue around his irises, yet another tale for another time. He didn't seem particularly muscular, but he was trained. Beside him, a bow fashioned of iron rested. The sound on the plains came to an end as he finally opened his eyes. "Good afternoon." He greeted pleasantly. One would have thought this strange bird man crazed if not for the sound of light footsteps mere moments after he spoke. The footsteps belonged to a woman an inch taller than him. She wore a black dress vaguely identified as a dancer's , but more conservative save a somewhat low cut. She was tan, but not too the extent of the bird man before her. Her face was wrought with brief annoyance before fading.

She wore her green hair long, tied into a ponytail. The green lining of her dress could only be matched by the expensive embroidery sewn into it. A wonderful addition. Unlike the normal, petite frame of a dancer, she had an athletic one—legs, abdomen, and all. She wore a brooch embedded with an emerald around her neck, and a golden circlet placed on her forehead. There was the faint sign of a scar on her throat, if you had beyond human eyes, which the strange man did. The amber-eyed woman held out a brown bag. The familiar swoosh of coins was heard, and the man knew it to be his pay for the month. "Mayelle thought it prudent to get you your pay as soon as possible. I wish she hadn't sent me in her stead." She stated. It was the clear disdain that made the bird man cringe.

"Have I not proven my worth among this troupe yet, Iscah? You've yet to call me by my name, no? I believe Judah is my name. Let's start there." Judah shrugged. Iscah's lips curled into a disgusted sneer. "Sub-humans don't need names." She dropped the bag of gold at her feet, turning on her heel. Once she was gone, Judah opened the bag and began counting his pay, calmly. That woman had a lot of problems. Never took a shine to him like the others and Relda did. Speaking of the latter, the aged, grandmotherly woman was probably planning their next location among the villages and fiefdoms. 

Judah chomped on the pieces. Yes, authentic. He cleaned them before placing the gold pieces in the bag. Tying it to his waist, the laguz leaned down to pick up his bow. He followed Iscah, and the two stopped at a large, forested area. A large caravan was pulled up to their east, and a campfire was being started. A little blonde girl zipped past, glomping Iscah's leg. "Iscah!" She squealed. Her blue orbs shone with clear admiration of the elder girl. Then, she looked at Judah. "Judo!" She glomped his leg next. Iscah pulled her away quickly. "Come, now, Kainé. We should get you prepared for bed." Iscah kneeled down, smiling as she brushed a strand of stray hair from the child's eyes.

She guided her along, sending Judah a look. Judah is not suppress his smiled at the beorc girl's enthusiasm. Sure, he was the odd one here; not at all like the beorc he travelled with. A woman with black  hair passed him. Fleura. The oldest and most rational one of the dancing girls, with only Iscah being second in the rational department. Well, sometimes. Fleura was accompanied by a blue-haired woman with blue apparel: Zelle. Mayelle, a few years older than Kainé, trailed at their heels. The brunette girl was the dispute settler, and she did a damn good job of it despite her youth.

Of all of them, Fleura reminded him of his sister the most, with a few key differences. Judah closed his eyes as he took a seat near the roots of a tree. Once in awhile he got homesick, and this was one of those times. Questions muddled his brain, and each was for  his mother and sister in some form or fashion, and how they fared. No, he could not return yet. Things had to be done. 

Next came an elderly woman with grey hair(Although, she fervently insisted it was silver). Dressed in red and navy robes, the official leader of the Five Maidens inspected him, tossing a look at camp. "We need to move. Things are getting dangerous between the newly founded rebellion and Solgen. I will explain on the way." She frowned, making a face. 

"No, but we do have temporary dwelling structures that can quickly be assembled. They are nicer than the average tent. You are welcome to use one of them if you would like."

The sage sat still, composed, and gave no hint of his slight irritation with Cairbre. "They're for anyone to use. No strings attacheced. Just ask one of the men in the town about them and they'll help you set one up."

Leilah spent the rest of the day riding on Oika, scanning the mountains for any signs of a dragon. Or any signs of intelligent life, really. Nothing but a couple of deer and some birds. And a fox.  Despite the dark clouds and Oika's warning, no storms ever came.  The winds are a bit stronger than normal, but nothing Leilah couldn't handle.

She sought refuge in a small grove of trees that night.  "Three more days' worth of supplies," she reminded herself.

The next morning, Leilah wakes up with the sun and jumps back on Oika.  The sky is still covered in dark clouds, but it didn't rain yesterday...  Leilah ignores the risk and gets back to her mission.

After a few hours of flying, a sudden gust of wind nearly rips Leilah off of her mount.  She struggles to stay in the saddle as another gust hits, then another.  Rain suddenly starts to flood from above, and lightning isn't far behind.

"Bad, bad, bad...!" Leilah mutters, fighting to regain control.  Oika's being shoved every which way but down.  "C'mon, Oika, dive!"

Oika battles against against the wind, but doesn't seem to be making much progress.  In the end, the best the pair can do is try to stay level and avoid crashing into the ground.  After several minutes of having no control, Leilah finally sees a clear patch of ground with a lake nearby. Perfect.

Oika loses control just as she dives below the treeline, clear of the worst of the roaring wind.  Leilah's thrown from her back, dropping to the ground below.  She lands in the mud, bouncing, rolling, and finally skidding to a halt just beside the lake.  Oika manages a slightly more graceful landing before collapsing from fatigue.

Leilah staggers to her feet, coughing from the impact.  She forces herself to start staggering towards the shelter of the nearest tree before noticing the cabin on the lakeside. Dazed and confused, she walks over and knocks on the door as hard as she can. Given her condition, it's not very loud.

---

"Let's move," Hartmann orders.  "Bad weather or no, we've got to make it to Verrist on schedule to rendezvous with the others.  I just hope the messengers all made it to the other camps..."

The rebel army finally sets out.

The suited man arrives at the gates of an imposing structure, its stone walls standing high above the trees surrounding it. Where once there had been a great, swinging wooden door the worgen owners seem to have taken it down, opting instead for the more naturalistic open gateway. Although any Beorc or Laguz would hesitate to scale this work of stunning ingenuity, the wildlife was not so in awe, and precisely even trimmed vine and brush scales up the side to give the castle its mournful, if very much intended, look of ancient greatness and modern decay.

As he walks through the portal and into the courtyard, the man takes in each flower and plant in the garden. Neatly patterned flowers stretch in eight closed of rows lining the path to the inner entrance and lining around shrubs and bushes of all shapes and sizes. Aesthetically pleasing though it was, the man could tell that this garden was not merely some vainglorious show of wealth, but instead a very useful stock of herbs, spices and most importantly medicine. He reaches the inner gate, not dwelling on the sights, sounds and smells behind him as he takes the ring offered by the small copper wolf guarding the door, gently banging on the wooden planks with it.

He doesn't budge as the door makes it first creak, and it opens inwardly as he expected. The first to greet him is an old maid, a Beorc woman who still carries an air about her of superior practice and seniority. She curtsies at the man and bids him to enter.

"You must be Barabas." She says. "Come, we shall sort out your paperwork first. Then we might discuss any questions you have."

Barabas nods and makes his way inside, feeling oddly calm as usual.