Fire Emblem: The Great Divide

Barabas is lead through a small alcove into the interior of an old palisade, where an office like reception room is fitted with fine looking bookshelves and hundreds of records and documents. He's shown to a velvet-cushioned bench, and told to wait for the record keeper to come with his documents. The old woman formally introduces herself to Barabas, but adds that the staff simply call her "Matron." Taking her leave to return to the central tower, Barabas is left waiting for perhaps a dozen minutes through which he abides patiently, until an old man comes hobbling out of the back room carrying a stack of papers.

Clearly no ordinary old man, this time decayed and long since past his prime crow was adorned in a fine black and gold robe, with a very tall cap similarly designed. The old man's long moustache and wiry hair were completely faded of tone, almost translucent silver, even his long wings seem tattered and gray. He breathes heavily as he approaches his desk, gently laying down the documents in his hands and taking his seat he struggles into a comfortable position. His hand extends forward and, shaking, he bids Barabas away from his bench and into a seat at the desk.

"Come, now." He says in a kindly tone. "You have already prepared everything in good order, so let's be... thorough yet brief in getting you all signed up."

The old man seems weary and eager to put things through, so Barabas does as he asks and sits down in front of him. The record keep licks his thumb, only barely wetting it, and with keen focus he opens up the folder of documents.

Leilah looks off into space for a moment.  "Caderyn...  Caderyn...  I feel like..."  Suddenly her eyes light up.  She claps her hands together, springing up off the couch.  "Caderyn!  Right, his name is Caderyn!  Haha!  I think the goddess must be watching over me!"

Leilah looks expectantly at Caderyn's door.  "Prince Caderyn!  I was sent to find you!  I'm supposed to invite you to join the rebel army!"

"Hey! Our fight is not pointless! We're fighting to bring equality back to Solgen, to make it so laguz and beorc can stand side-by-side again!" Leilah says angrily. "If you don't want to work with us, if you don't want to fight, if you just want to sit around for the rest of your life, that's fine. But don't you dare say what we're doing is pointless!"

"There you go, calling us pointless again! What gives you the right to judge us so?" Leilah snaps.

Quietly, she continues. "You think I'm just some naieve little girl... But I'm fully aware that winning a few battles won't solve anything. We've got centuries of racism and hatred to overcome. But we're going to show you all what beorc and laguz united can do...!

"...And you're wrong about our leader, too. He's no beorc. He's a branded. And he's fully aware he's not fit to be a king. I don't know what he's planning... Maybe he even wanted to offer you the job... All I know is he truly wants to reunite our homeland."

"Do we leave tonight?" Judah inquired, looking at the sky in contemplation. Still afternoon, it would most likely be dark soon. Relda followed his gaze, shaking her head.

"No. Tomorrow will be a fine time for travel. There will be a storm tonight, so let's all head in." She beckoned, shuffling to the main caravan. Even now, Judah could feel the strong wind beginning to pick up, so he set about setting up his tent somewhere where the trees wouldn't tip over, and the wind wasn't as fierce.
-----
The next morning involved moving things into the caravan, picking up quite a few things from yesterday, and even some things that had been blown away in yesterday's storm. Judah didn't mind the work. It wasn't much of a hassle to him.

Relda pointed to a map. "A little farther north of here, and we come across a small village. I set up our schedule three days in advance. This place is...beorc-friendly only, so I recommend you stay in the caravan, Judah. I sense an ill wind breezing through the world." She muttered, rolling the map back up.

Judah arched his eyebrows, yet said nothing further. "Perhaps. Between beorc and laguz, there will always be conflict. There is no other way for most. A world divided by hatred and old traditions will be harder to be rid of than a world united by equality. Such a thing is a fleeting dream that escapes the grasp of the beholder. Even then, that won't stop people from trying. I doubt we'll be called into service of anything. We're a dancing troupe, so we offer nothing valuable to the table. We'll be overlooked. But if we happen to stumble upon a skirmish, I...suppose I will handle it in the best manner I can. My debt is still due, and I do hate debt." He chuckled.

"With the recent stirrings, I'd be surprised if we didn't stumble upon a skirmish one day. But that is a tale for another time, my young bird. We will steadily move the horses through the little stream ahead. It isn't deep, and should be easy for the horses to cross. We'll probably have to transport our good and belongings by hand to avoid the carriage tipping over via stream." Relda continued, undeterred.

The group slowly dispersed and broke down their tents, preparing for the long haul. The future of the group was still yet uncertain. Relda had spoke many times of how they might have to disband if a war broke out. The threat of stumbling upon a battlefield and being taken as an enemy convoy or transporter was too great. They would have to settle down elsewhere and make a living. For the last few days things had been somber, and Judah hadn't bothered to try and ease the uncertainty with some tunes.

It would do no good. Many of them, like Fleura had useful fighting skills, so a job as a mercenary or village guard wouldn't be heard to obtain. The young like Mayelle and Kainé had little to offer the world, and thus had to be raised in some way. Judah would be fine as a traveling bard for some time. He had toyed with the idea previously, but figured he would eventually gain popularity, and that would interfere with his journey.

If there was one things phoenixes were good at, it was avoiding struggles and trouble until they had been called upon to intervene in the world's affair. Judah looked at the last member of their group, and one of the oldest: Zelle. With her cooking skills, she could probably find a job as a cook.

Judah didn't dare think about Iscah. For some reason, she probably stood along the neutral like, and would stay with Relda no doubt. Internally, he wondered if Fleura would take the alternative, and sign up with the Rebellion. Out of all of them, and being the oldest save for himself, she was the most vocal about the Rebellion's cause.

Judah had wandered into this group a few months ago, and hadn't been turned down a job or shelter despite his race. He had encountered no problems with anyone, and had gradually grew to be on their good side, replacing their cool wariness with actual acceptance. Well, except for one in the group. It befuddled him why she always singled him out, but he surmised that it had something to do with her past. Perhaps laguz had done something.

In any case, he brushed it off with little bitterness except for his bad days, and continued contributing. Iscah would come around eventually, and understand that her dislike was irrational. He contemplated leaving altogether. The group seemed to have picked up the most tension when he had come along.

As they began heading towards the little stream, Judah picked up the bow he carried, inspecting it. He was out of alternatives unless he went to Solgen and gained a position in the military, but that was a hassle, and he had no interest in this soon-to-be petty conflict that was slowly boiling beneath the surface.

Let people kill themselves over a goal no matter how noble it would be. The affairs did not concern him. War would always exist; pain would always exist, and inequality would always exist. That was his perspective on it. But, he had to admit that he would only intervene if the lives of the people in this caravan was threatened. Somehow these beorc had become a pseudo-family to him in the last few months.

Not that he would run off spouting the nonsense of friendship and bonds, of course. He chuckled at that. Utterly ridiculous. If the odds were against them, they'd fall for a retreat.
---
Iscah looked at the small harmonica in her hand. Her face was blank as she replayed Relda's words from her mind. It was hard to accept them. The Five Maidens...disbanding. No one would have ever told her that without her laughing at them.

She had been with this group for years unlike a certain pest. Her eyes trailed to her left. It was hard to not let things she had taught herself to do be held back. The reason she had told herself to hate laguz was a personal matter, but even she could not escape the reality that it was linked more to her past than she'd like. And that...it wasn't true hatred, but merely fear.

She'd never admit that to anyone except Fleura and Relda. She had no qualms about Judah, but it was easier to project a sense of hatred and tell herself that she really hated the people that had oppressed her father's people for countless years.

Yet, Judah had showed no hostility or superiority since joining their group. In another world, they might have become friends if things were different. The gap was too wide to fill in this world. She didn't regret the slurs she had used against him. In some cases, it was natural to oppress what you despised to look confident and in control, and so she gradually took on that image until it had become nothing more than a mere mask that had swallowed her normal personality up.

Apparently he noticed her staring from his peripheral vision, for the birdman glanced at her. She made an effort to scowl and fix him with a look, yet the glance turned into a stare, and before either of them knew it, they were having a staring contest. Her amber eyes against his turquoise red-rimmed eyes.

She felt a tap on her shoulder, and looked down to see Kainé pointing at one of her drawings. It was one of...Judah, oddly. "I drew Jodo!" Kainé exclaimed excitedly. Her smile was infectious, and Iscah grew one of her own.

"That's...surprisingly detailed. You forgot the wings." She pointed out warmly. Kainé frowned, then pouted. "Shoot! I don't know how to draw wings." The girl whined. Iscah took the quill and directed it towards the drawing.

"I'll show you. Here. First, you make an outline...you know what an outline is, right Kai?"Iscah checked. She waited for a response.

Kainé made a face. "I'm not stupid." She protested, and took the quill, making an outline.

"I know. You learn fast, but even I wasn't sure." Iscah smiled. She poked her forehead, and the two continued the drawing lesson. Somewhere along the lines, Judah had been watching. An amused smirk found itself on his lips as the duo drew a picture that was almost exactly like him. Right down to the wings.

"Good job on the wings. They're accurate." He congratulated. Iscah stopped, raising her gaze. Right...

"I'm just teaching her how to draw. Nothing important." She said with an edge. Judah raised his hands in defense.

"Aye. I'll leave you two alone then." And so the Phoenix returned to his corner, slightly put off by her tone. He let out a small sigh. Eventually, he told himself. Eventually she would come around and be friendly.

"My husband's a bit of a hermit," Rena answers for him, giggling a bit.

Caderyn scoffs as he walks into the kitchen. He quickly warmed up a couple biscuits on the stove, and brought them over to Leilah on a small plate, with a chunk of warm butter. "Eat, little Leilah. You will need your strength for the return trip."

After giving her the plate, he pulled up a chair across from her and answered honestly. "I'm old, Leilah, even for a Laguz. I was travelling this land and seeing the world when your ancestors were still a twinkle in the eyes of the gods. My more... Adventurous days are long behind me. Up here, I don't have to worry about dealing with other people. I can live quietly with my wife, and that's all I desire."

"It's also because of my amnesia," Rena adds. "Caderyn and I... We spent many years apart. For decades, he searched for me. I disappeared one morning, and neither of us know why... The first thing I remember is waking up in the village at the base of the mountains, in the care of a Heron living there. He brought me up here, so I could be close to the Heron Village. They've taken care of me since then. Caderyn and I were only reunited a few months ago. Since then, I've recovered some of my memories, but..."

"It's been difficult," Caderyn admits. "And I believe the stress and noise of a normal town would be more harmful than beneficial."

Realizing her slip, Rena shot her husband a quick panicked glance, but Caderyn merely shook his head. "It's fine, Remy. The girl is trustworthy."

He turns to Leilah to explain. "A tribe of reclusive Heron have called this mountain home for centuries. They are watchers and historians only, and remain neutral in the affairs of the world below. I serve as the tribe's Guardian. I protect both the village inhabitants, and the tribe's privacy. As such, I must ask you to keep this information to yourself."

"As for my memories," Rena chimes in, "We've thought of doing that, but decided against it. The world isn't as safe or stable as it used to be. And, well... Maybe one day, after the world has calmed down, we'll go on a journey together, to recover my memories. But I'm in no rush. I have enough of my memories to get by, and I'm content with that."

Rocangus bristles as two knocks knock him off his game. He looks down at the liquid he was straining some ground vegetation into, then up at the strainer.

263? 264? ...246? Ugh...

He sighs and pours the strainer's contents back into a larger pail, and the liquid into a waste bucket.

"Excuse me" he hears a voice say.

"Aye, hold on there." Roc says, coming around a shelf that divides the front and back of shop. He scoops up a still smouldering roll of herbs, and jams it in his mouth. A cloaked figure stood in the entry way, and he made a concerted effort not to count how many steps he was taking towards the front desk. 13th customer of the day, which is just another number. He wasn't superstitious and he's seen stranger here before.

"How can I help ya?" Roc said through a puff of smoke. He tried to sound friendlier than his attitude of restrained nuisance would permit.

A hawk.  Great.  The beorc carefully pulls the cloak to cover the left half of his face as best he can, hoping to hide the scar.

As he speaks, he occasionally pauses to clear his throat.  "I'm looking for a potion... er, obviously, or I wouldn't be in a potion shop.  What an inefficient statement.  Right.  As I was saying.  Specifically, a potion capable of reducing fatigue, increasing focus, improving energy, or, preferably, some combination of the other three.  Ideally, said potion should have as few negative side effects as possible.  Additionally, the potion needs to be easily administered to a large number of people - not carefully measured in precise doses.  As you can guess, I'll need a large quantity of said potion.  And if the test batch is successful, I'll be back regularly for the next few weeks, at least.  My budget is... large, but not limitless, shall we say?  I'd rather not show my hand until I hear the expert's offer.  Can you you provide such a potion at an acceptable price?"