As foamy waves of salt and spray slosh against the shore in the early morning darkness, a couple walks hand in hand, enjoying the moment of solitude.
Bare feet digging into the sand with each step, Zane eventually slows to a stop, Gráinne naturally doing the same alongside him.
"Zane…"
Looking down, the scarlet-haired trader begins to feel an uncomfortable sensation bubbling up in her chest, knowing that their time together is coming to an end.
Pulling her into a tight embrace, Zane buries his nose in her hair, taking deep breaths as if to remember the unique scent that is his now wife.
"We'll see each other again before we know it. A mere six months… the end of the Great Tree Moon, like we promised."
"I am knowing, husband. It's just…" She doesn't finish her thought, instead burying her face even deeper into the young man's firm chest.
Running his fingers through her short hair, Zane eventually places a loving kiss on the top of her head and pulls himself away.
"Gráinne, I have something for you."
Tilting her head, the gray-eyed teen curiously hums in response.
Taking a deep breath, Zane looks out at the blackened horizon before eventually turning back to the Brigidian with a steady gaze. Lowering himself on one knee, he reaches up to take hold of Gráinne's hand gently with his own.
"The order may not be exactly right, and I know we've already settled this but-"
Exhaling through his nose, Zane reaches into his pocket and pulls out a simple silver band.
"Gráinne, will you marry me in the eyes of the goddess and become my lawfully wedded wife?"
Joyfully laughing, the islander flashes a beautiful smile, "Of course I will!"
Slipping the ring onto her left hand, Zane rises and embraces her with a passionate kiss. After a while, the two separate and rest their foreheads against one another.
"I know it's simple fair, but I needed something to finalize our union."
Chuckling, Gráinne just raises her hand and admires the glint of metal around her finger.
"The appearance is not mattering, husband, only that we know our feelings for one another."
Softly grasping her outstretched hand, Zane forces her to look back at him.
"Nevertheless, I desire nothing but the best for you, Gráinne. To that end, I commissioned a proper ring for you with the local goldsmith. It will be ready when we reunite."
Grasping Zane's shirt even tighter, Graínne practically glues her body to his, savoring the contact.
"Six months right…?"
Once more, bringing his hand to her head, the archer strokes her hair.
"Six months," he confirms.
As the sun begins to rise above the shores of Mensa, it illuminates a young couple entangled on the beach, the two desperately inscribing the memory of each other in their minds.
***
Sitting on a barrel drumming the sides out of boredom, a man with close-cropped black hair releases an exaggerated sigh.
"The lieutenant sure is taking his sweet time, huh?"
Looking over a faded map with fraying edges, an older man laden with scars scowlingly glances over.
"Oh, let him be Klein, the lad just got hitched, let him have his moment a little longer."
Laughing, Klein jumps off the barrel and swings his arm around his pal Petchel nearby.
"Good point, ol' man. If I was in between a pair of legs like Grain's, I wouldn't be in a hurry to go either."
Beside him, Petchel flashes a crooked grin, the several missing teeth making him appear a bit foolish.
"Oi, anyone wanna bet how long it takes him to come back? I'll say ten gold he's gone for another hour."
Slamming his fist on the wooden table he was sitting over, Edick quickly stands and turns toward them, however, his expression quickly calms while a smirk forms on his face.
Brow briefly furrowing at the old man's behavior, Petchel easily forgets it as a voice behind him calls out, "I'll take you up on that!"
Grinning like a madman, the sandy-haired merc quickly whips his head around, eager to carry out the bet.
"Oh yeah, get ready to… pay up…" Going quiet, his smile becomes a bit awkward.
"Huh, what's wrong, Petch?"
Turning, Klein's face goes a shade whiter while he reaches up to scratch his head.
"H-hey there, Lieutenant, h-had a good morning?"
Standing across from him, Zane casually plays with a knife in his hand, swinging and rotating it in his palm with ease.
"Oh, you know how it is, met with the Captain, got all of our plans in order, spent time with Gráinne," he emphasized her name, "then came to rendezvous with my wonderful men here."
"I-I see. That's good."
The freckled ginger flashes an award winning smile.
"And you, Klein? I hope you've been more mindful of your words as we've discussed, especially considering that we now have a lady accompanying us. We wouldn't want that tongue of yours causing trouble."
Flicking the tip of his knife, it sends a sharp metallic hum echoing through the area. Tilting his head, Zane gazes deeply at the other man.
"So… how's your tongue, any issues?"
Audibly gulping, Klein takes a step back, bumping into the stacked barrels beside him.
"J-just fine, it's just fine, Sir!"
Humming in response, Zane flatly eyes the quivering merc, then in an instant his arm shoots out, sending the blade slicing through the air. In less than a heartbeat, it digs into the barrel right behind Klein, a small cut opening on his cheek where it grazed past him.
"Oh, sorry about that. The fly there was annoying me."
Mechanically turning his head, the black-haired mercenary notes the large fly skewered on the knife and simply gulps.
Casually walking forward, Zane pulls out the blade in one easy motion and lightly pats the trembling man on the shoulder.
"Well, I have to go speak with the Captain, but I'm glad to hear you're improving. I wouldn't want to deal with you again, understood?"
Klein barely manages to stammer an affirmation as Zane walks away. "Edick, with me," he calls on his way out.
"Understood." The aged man with a large scar across the bridge of his nose offers a crisp salute before following after his younger commander, shooting Klein a disappointed look with a shake of his head as he does.
After the two of them are a ways away, the small group breaks into a loud clamour. Laughing, Petchel loudly slaps his friend on the shoulder, "He got ya good, eh, Tounger."
Knocking the hand away, Klein glares at the shorter man, "Who the fuck ya callin' Tounger?"
Still dying of laughter, Petchel can barely form a coherent sentence.
"He… He was talkin' bout rippin' out your tongue there, so Tounger it is, for the thing that constantly gets your ugly ass in trouble."
At the gambling addict's words, the surrounding men all begin to chant the name 'Tounger' in unison, Klein's face getting redder all the while.
"Argh, I'll tongue your mothers you bastards!"
***
Reclining on the roof of a building near the outskirts of Mensa, Byleth watches the orange burned sky get brighter and brighter, wondering when they'll be on their way. Absentmindedly playing with the beautiful dagger he had received for his last birthday, he tilts it this way and that, admiring the way the burgeoning light catches the metal furnishings on the pommel and sheath.
Then, he hears a voice carried up on the wind that makes him pause, an eager glint flashing in his otherwise dull eyes. Shifting around, he peers down over the edge of the roof at the gathered throng of men, cargo, and horses.
The usually rowdy men eagerly part way for a modestly dressed yet undeniably curvy young woman, her hair matching shades with the dawning firmament.
"T-the Captain will be back soon, milady. He just went to finish some things with the Lieutenant."
Walking beside her, his face sporting an easily discernible shade of red, is Hugo, one of the novice commanders. An easy six feet tall, he's currently walking next to the radiant lady with a bit of a hunch, trying not to make it seem like he was looming over her much shorter form.
As her aquamarine eyes wander across the group of sellswords, she notes how their reactions to her are much different compared to their first encounter. Whereas before they openly stared with lust and hunger, there was now a large dollop of respect, apprehension, and even a bit of fear piled on top.
A teasing grin subtly forming on her glossy lips, she unceremoniously begins to stir some magic in her palm as if in boredom, the rapidly spinning waves of green light easily discernible. Her smirk grows even more as she evokes the reaction she was looking for, many of the remaining lustful stares being overshadowed by the aforementioned ones.
Resisting the urge to laugh, she looks at the man trailing beside her, a relatively handsome mercenary with pink hair completely wracked by nervousness and unravelling in her presence.
Observing the nervous wringing of his hands and the blazing blush on his cheeks, she can't help but reflexively compare him to another tall mercenary she became recently acquainted with, finding this young man's anxious demeanour entirely unsuitable compared to the calm commanding presence of his Captain…
Pursing her lips, she prevents her mind from wandering down yet another fruitless spiral of unladylike thoughts. After all, it wouldn't be proper of her to unnecessarily dwell on others' failings and others'… gifts.
"Do you know where Byleth is? I'm not seeing him here."
"The Captain's son? He should be 'round here somewhere…"
Eager to please, the pink-haired merc rises to his full height and scans the area, eventually spotting the boy peering over the roof above them.
"Th-there he is, milady. Above us."
"Above…?" Questioningly tilting her head upward, Cornelia's aquamarine eyes go wide as she sees Byleth offering her an easy wave high above her.
"Byleth!" she practically yells in fright.
"How did you get up there? J-Just don't move. I'll come get you."
Face paling, she desperately looks around for a way to climb up. "Please help me Hugo, we need to get him down before he gets hurt."
"A little late for that milady," he calmly replies, pointing back toward the building.
Whipping her head around in a panic, she watches with a shocked gaze as the lad nimbly climbs down the side of the building in record time, making use of holds and protrusions in the wall she can barely see.
In a mere matter of moments, the boy hops lightly on the ground and immediately runs over, stopping right in front of her.
"Good Morning, Cornelia," he says with more warmth in his voice than practically any of the gathered men have ever heard from him.
"Byleth-" she starts before lunging forward and wrapping him in a tight hug, pressing his face to her chest.
"Are you okay? That was dangerous, you foolish boy, you can't go around climbing things like that. What if you-"
As the young woman goes on to unleash an avalanche of worry and questions atop the youth, Hugo just watches awkwardly. Automatically, his eyes drift to the way her immense chest deforms and presses into the boy, before averting his eyes and turning around with warm cheeks. Letting out a sigh, he walks away to leave the two alone, having enough tact to know that he is no longer needed.
After Cornelia is done assessing the boy for injuries, she lets go of his cheeks while the rest of her mind returns to its proper function. Fully taking him in, her brow slightly raises as she observes him.
Looking rather cute and well put together, he's fully dressed in black leather armor interspersed with metal over several vulnerable areas, similarly colored black. Additionally, strapped at his waist are a few pouches, as well as a large and ornate blue and gold dagger.
"Well now, is this how you normally dress?"
Nodding, Byleth minutely tilts his head, an almost indiscernible motion. "Yes. I'm a mercenary after all," he states matter-of-factly.
"Right… I suppose you are…" she softly replies.
Blinking, her voice regains its usual energy as she leans forward, gazing at the boy with a beautiful smile.
"Anyhow, how about we go have some fun while we wait for your father?"
He silently nods.
Chuckling, Cornelia can't help but reach over and gently ruffle his hair.
"Perfect, so what would you like to do? And please choose a game this time. We can talk more about magic later on."
Pausing as he was about to request exactly that, the boy swiftly decides on something else that they came to frequently do aboard Gráinne's boat.
"How about more Nine Men's Morris?"
For a brief moment, Cornelia's hand twitches while playing with his hair, but she just smiles and reaches out for his hand.
"You really like that game, huh? Sure thing, let's go get it from my things."
Easily slipping his palm into her much softer one, the two head towards the carriage loaded with all of her luggage.
A few tens of minutes later, Cornelia stares at the wooden board between them in consternation, her brows knitted together in frustrated thought. 'How is he so good already? I've been playing for years!' she thinks.
The young woman prided herself on being particularly good at strategy games of this kind but the boy in front of her picked it up like a fish to water after only a few games and is now at the point where she doesn't even know if it's possible for her to beat him anymore. Nevertheless, she doesn't want to quit simply because of that, Byleth finding enjoyment in it being enough for her to not get upset by the development.
Sighing, she reaches over and pinches his cheek. "You win again, you little rascal."
Humming, the quietly satisfied victor nods and begins dutifully picking up all the pieces.
"Again?" he asks simply.
"Su-" As she goes to reply, a sudden shout interrupts her.
"Alright men, start forming up, we're leaving in five minutes!"
Looking over, Jeralt, Zane, and Edick stand side by side while calling out to the gathered mercenaries, having finally finished whatever preparations they were making.
"Well, we can play more later. Let's clean up for now."
Saying so, Cornelia begins to stand, watching as Byleth dutifully nods and swiftly packs up the board and pieces. Putting the pieces in a hollowed section of the wood, he folds the board in half along the hinges and secures it closed with a small metal latch before handing it over.
Gratefully taking it, Cornelia steps up onto the nearby wagon and places it back with her other belongings and closes the bag. Then, taking Byleth's outstretched hand for support, she lowers herself back onto the dirt path.
Repositioning her hand in his, she looks down at him with an easy and ready smile that always seems to bloom with him.
"Shall we go speak with your father, Lord Byleth?"
"By all means, Lady Cornelia."
Hand in hand, the two make their way around the mustering formations.
As they approach, Jeralt glances in their direction and gives a brief nod before turning his attention back to the lines of men.
Pausing a bit away so as not to disturb them, they observe how the trio takes count of the men as well as of their belongings, then going on to question the squad leaders and ensure that everything is squared away. It takes a while, but eventually everything is deemed okay and the men are sent off to prepare for departure.
Clapping Zane on the shoulder, Jeralt sends him and Edick off to handle matters while he begins a walk over to the observing duo.
At his approach, Byleth feels Cornelia's grasp on his hand tighten, causing him to briefly glance up at her, but the deep bass of his father's voice disrupts any wandering thoughts.
"I take it you're prepared for our journey, Lady Cornelia?"
Slipping her hand out of the boy's, the fashioned noble performs an impeccable curtsy. "But of course, Sir Jeralt. I am actually quite eager to be on our way."
"Good, we'll be leaving shortly," he replies, nodding.
Turning his gaze to his child, the flaxen-haired captain grins.
"And you son? You'll have the most important task after all."
Brow briefly furrowing, Byleth ever so slightly tilts his head in response. Chuckling, Jeralt places his large palm atop the boy's head.
"I'm assigning you to be our client's personal bodyguard. Think you can handle that kid?"
Nodding seriously, the fledgling mercenary responds immediately. "Yes, father."
Laughing aloud now, Jeralt simply ruffles his son's hair. "Good lad."
Clearing her throat, the father and son duo look over at the young mage gazing at them with a gentle smile.
"Well then, I suppose I'll be in your care from here on out. Please take care of me, sirs."
Blinking her eyes prettily, Cornelia maintains eye contact with Jeralt as she does another curtsy, her dark green dress fluttering in a sudden breeze. Laughing, the older warrior's hard face softens as an easy smile plays on his lips in the early morning light.
As dawn rises over Mensa, a new journey is set to begin.
*****
And that's that, folks! This chapter was actually pretty much done almost 2 weeks ago, but I got totally sidetracked by a lot of the gaming reveals announced. I've been making edits for YouTube and TikTok for over a year now and was super hype to make some on some of the new games, so I kind of no lifed that for a while. For those interested, my name on both platforms is: 'Pupido McMuffin'. There may or may not be an underscore instead of a space, depending on the platform. There are also plenty of Fire Emblem edits on there too! (If you look at my YouTube page, they're all under the shorts tab.)
Anyway, this was another shorter and simpler chapter, meant to usher in a new arc! From now on, we'll be on the road (kinda) and stopping in various spots. There will also be more canon characters introduced, some of which are quite popular!
Before I forget, what do you guys think of Fortune's Weave? I know it was revealed several months ago but I never talked about it on here. Personally, I'm still hoping it's a prequel, as that honestly makes way more sense to me, but we'll see what happens. Either way, I'm not too sure how much of it will change what I plan to do. Probably I'll have already played the game by the time any of its elements could become relevant to my story (in case there are any things from it I would want to include in here), but time will tell. See you in the next one!