Hero of Prophecy

The dragon had never held someone's hand before, never once been offered until now. It was an odd feeling, to be held so gently. Fragile. Despite it being odd, it wasn't unwelcome, maybe even something to get used to. He liked it, the reassurance. Even though Alm's hold was loose and fragile, the child only held on tighter, making sure his own hand won't slip out of the grip.

. . . He could fly away, couldn't he? But where would something that was never meant to be, unnatural to the world, even supposed to go? Who crossed the thing everyone called an "ocean"? It was a statement he hadn't thought about yet, but the other had such a lighthearted tone to it. It confused him a bit. Though, as soon as the confusion came, it was gone and replaced with happiness just as quickly. A smile, though small, grew on the dragon's features. Alm didn't want him to leave, giving the dragon the reassurance that he isn't unwanted.

“ O - Okay. . . ”

The dragon walked along with the other, amazed how the crowd was able to disperse so easily. As they walk, despite being any other hallway, the ever curious dragon let his eyes wander and observe as much as he could as they proceeded. It was all so different compared to the "ruins" he grew up in. His eyes wandered even more when they walked into the bedroom, observing every little item and detail. He vaguely recalled the big piece of furniture was; something to do with sleeping, if he remembered correctly. The rug feeling just as plush and soft as the one they were on just moments before. Confused, once again, when the man let go of his hand to only sit in a chair, claiming how nice it is. The child only stood there for a moment, a bit unsure of what he is supposed to do here. There was another chair, close to the other but only separated by a small table.

He takes a step forward, as if he's testing the waters. Then, another. A couple more. Until he's at his own chair. A glance at Alm, making sure what he is doing is right, then looks back at the chair as he climbs up into it. Getting himself situated, he lets his legs dangle as looks down at the chair.

Now that they're in full privacy, or as best as one could be with the door open for the dragon's comfort, Alm leans back on his chair and observes. It takes the dragon a little to figure out what to do, but he is a patient man when it comes to these things. Once the little guy makes himself somewhat comfortable in the chair, he makes sure to smile approvingly and nod. "Great! Some places don't have cozy floors with rugs, but they sure will have chairs. Like the boat we'll be getting on tomorrow." A pause. Right, the boat.

"You're welcome to come with us. Across the ocean, I mean." At this point, Alm isn't even sure how much the young dragon understands, but he does gesture to the map he had left haphazardly atop the small table between them. The poor guy probably has no idea where he even is, geographically, having been underground for so long. "We're here right now." He points to the location of Furia Harbor, tapping it gently with his index finger, then slowly sliding it across the waters and towards Zofia Harbor (its re-naming still being considered by the court, considering the reunification efforts). "And we'll be heading here. It's a long journey, so if that sounds a little much, you can always... stay here."

      "For what it's worth, you and Queen Celica are remembered much more fondly by history than your predecessors." He's sure that surviving accounts don't tell the scope of the mess the last king of Zofia in particular had made of the country, nor do they show how hard the two must have worked to restore people's trust in the crown. He's certain that even he himself isn't privy to the full extent of Emmeryn's efforts, never mind someone from even further outside looking in.

      Chrom sucks in a breath--he doesn't stop Alm from taking his hand, nor can he move quickly enough to stop him from bending the knee. It's...strange, and not only because Alm is a historical figure to whom he had always looked up to. He's certain the other meant for it to be assuring, and yet, the knowledge that he--well, all of them, really--are bound to Askr sits heavy upon his shoulders. True, he chose to remain as the Summoner, and yes, he gives each and every Hero he summons a chance to decide whether to stay or return to their own worlds ( and would send them home, should one of them request it and the circumstance allow ). But he cannot help but wonder, all the same, if that binding contract is little more than a curse.

      "I'm honored, that you--all of you--are willing to follow my lead. But would that power not come between myself and all of you?" He shakes his head. "I know I intend to keep you all safe, and to respect your wishes as much as possible, but--it's as you say. We're all strangers. True, given the free choice, many of you would have taken up arms for this cause. Even so..." On the other hand, he supposes the remedy to that is, in some ways, to forge those connections with the heroes he's summoned. To build the trust that currently does not exist.

      "Mercenaries, huh?" He chuckles. "You're right--in a way, we're all hired swords here. And, now that I think about it--the mercenary I knew had a way of integrating himself into a group." He scratches the back of his neck. "Not sure if I have much to pay them with for their time, but--we'll figure something out. Negotiations are part of the process."

"... Still, I'm glad. That Celica is remembered fondly, I mean." His voice goes from cheerful speculation to a far more somber tone, a soft sigh leaving him. "Though something tells me she will still think her efforts aren't enough. Not a unique struggle, I've found." With a small shake of his head, he puffs his chest and puts on a bluster of confidence instead of more vulnerability. "All the more reason to try and help folks through it, you know?" The pause is deliberate, and in that moment he locks eyes with Chrom. "And that includes you."

For as much as some might have thought his gesture of subservience as comforting, Alm had absolutely intended for it to be uncomfortable— if only to highlight that it is the yawning chasm Chrom must bridge to his new fellows. "That power will come between us." Alm affirms, and yet his smile does not budge. "I'd say it'll be your biggest enemy on this quest, so... it helps to be aware of it! I bet some folks don't really mind, but some might mind... a lot."

After all... he had experienced it: how much things change when the power dynamic does. From leader of the Deliverance, yet still a commoner, to the Emperor... it was a huge leap, and not everyone thought of him the same after that. It had hurt, and it still did, but Alm considered that experience his greatest asset if he was to help Chrom in any feasible way that he could.

"So... yes! Mercenaries!" Nodding, Alm grins, glad they're on the same page. Those guys knew how to integrate in a group, work with people they had never met and try to mesh into the dynamic as much as possible. They were basically the best teachers when it came to this stuff! ... At a price. "Though I gotta admit... this setup we have going on in Askr isn't exactly conventional either, right? We kind of just... show up after a ritual. Not exactly the most usual way to find a mercenary, or for a mercenary to find work."

"But hey, if anyone knows how to work with people who have lead vastly different lives and are on different 'levels', so to speak, you won't find anyone more qualified than a mercenary! I think." Alm fumbles a little, slightly bashful. "Sure, none of us have dealt with this kind of... contract before, but most mercs work under some kind of contract, too." A thoughtful look strikes the young man as he taps his chin with his right index finger. "And, well, it does help that you have briefed everyone on the kind of work we are supposed to do here, yeah? So... most people blatantly opposed to the idea have already bounced."

Seeing the need to at least plot this out like it was a tactics meeting in a war room, the setting he was most familiar with when discussing any kind of plan, he decides to lay it out like a battle plan. "As I see it, the state of the board for you is that we're all mercenaries here, but you happen to have the most power on the situation out of the rest of us. The contract." At this, Alm makes a vague gesture towards the strange relic that brings them here in the first place. "That might make things a bit bumpy for some people, so it's important we figure out how to smooth it out. Mercenaries might have good ideas about it, or at least where to start, but we might have to pay 'em in some way..." At this, he frowns, crossing his arms. "I've taken odd jobs here and there in the nearby villages, but I never took any payment... I don't know if Commander Anna would allow you near her coffers..."

      "Alm it is. I've never cared much for titles, anyhow." She makes herself comfortable in the seat he offers, lounging against its armrest as she crosses her legs. "Not saying I can't follow protocol, of course."

      But she's not here just for small talk--though she isn't opposed to it, either. There will be time for it later, anyhow. For now, though, she gets straight to the point.

      "You may be aware that Jedah was my father." Despite herself, her lips twist into a grimace at the notion. Some father Jedah had been. "To my understanding, he kept a laboratory of sorts, in Duma Tower. You might be able to tell where I'm going with this--I doubt they'd make you the leader of the Deliverance if you didn't have a decent head on those shoulders of yours." Her gaze grows serious. "I want to take a look at his research materials, to see if there's anything I can use to help those Jedah turned into witches."

Jedah... there's a name he hoped to never hear again. And, judging by the way Sonya's expression darkened ever so slightly at the claim of their family ties, she likely feels this way more so. Were this any other topic, he might have laughed at her implications at his ascension to leadership in the Deliverance... but he opts to focus his thoughts on her actual desire. A desire he finds...

To be frank, the young man looks like he's seen a ghost, ever so briefly, as memories flood his conscious of his encounters with witches; those poor victims, many of whom he never knew their name... and the few that he knew. The sorrow he feels for them can find no words to be expressed, but it absolutely finds purchase in his heart. He lets out a long exhale as he considers her request. Her goal. Her offer. Alm leans forward in clear interest.

"I want to tell you right off the bat that allowing you this is a foregone conclusion." He finally says after a long pause, having been ruminating on... several things outside of that. Of course he wanted the remaining witches saved. Of course he would let someone with far more experience in that kind of magic research it, let alone someone who would have the time to do it anyway. "There is nothing I'd want more than for no one else continues to suffer from that... curse. Permission, room, board and payment for your services, you can expect. But..."

Alm's eyes fall to the table, to the letters scattered about and the paper he had gently set down, creases and all. "I think we need to talk about this a little more. The war, well..." Alm trails off, his gaze lingering on Celica's signature in her letter, then looks back to her. "How much did Celica tell you about her time separated from you guys in Duma's Tower?" He asks, even if he really, really doesn't want to talk about it himself. If Sonya was to research witches, she might as well hear about...

      …all of that is besides the point, though. “Those fights really were silly, weren’t they?” Faye smiles, her frustration dissipating just as quickly as it had come. “And now they’re good memories. Or, well, at least they’re ones we can laugh about.” Good might be a little bit of a stretch. “You’re right. I’m worried about something that’s part of making friends–not that I’m hoping to fight with Silque.” She laughs. “You know, I’m still not sure how I feel about…everything, really. But getting a chance to meet new people…maybe it’s a good thing after all. Even if it means we end up meeting people like Fernand.”

      "Hey! I just said that I want to know about how Celica’s doing too, you know? I’m not asking just for you.“ Okay, maybe the inclination to actually ask for news about someone else instead of waiting to hear it from someone else might be for Alm’s sake, but…she really does want to know, too. Celica was her friend, even if they weren’t as close as Celica and Alm were. "And of course I’ll tell Silque about Ram! It’s only fair, right?” Faye hadn’t really considered Ram all that interesting, to be honest–and she’d liked it that way. But it’ll be interesting to someone who has never been there–or so she hopes.

Arms dropping to his sides again, he instead puffs his chest with pride and grins. "After all, at least we can laugh and look back at the spats we had, right? And we also fixed them! Like I'll fix things with Celica." He would fix this. It'll be just like the other spats they've had, they promised. "And like how you fixed things with Silque, right?" In what he hopes is support, he places his right hand on Faye's shoulder. "Not every meeting will go well for sure, but I hope you guys turn out to be great friends! I'll support you no matter what."

Alm tries not to think of the fact that they're at war — that lives will be at stake and maybe they might not walk back home. Instead, he hopes they will, and that Faye will at least make this one new friend, and maybe even more. It's an easy thought to latch onto, listening to Faye. "I know, I know. Just saying, y'know... you don't have to tell me." ... Though the thought of casually strolling up to Silque and asking about that himself makes him feel a little like a million eyes are trained on him. Well. Alm would deal with that when he got there, if Faye decided to keep her chat with Silque to herself. Or maybe he should ask as well anyway? A problem for the Alm of later.

And...she supposes she does have some lingering questions, from encountering her....father. Knowledge is power--and better to get answers here than having to try and seek him out.

"For it to be in such a state even in your time..." Ruya trails off. "It makes me wonder just how far history runs. How much knowledge has been lost to time? How many names have been forgotten?" She shakes her head. She's getting off track, isn't she?

There's an irony, she thinks, in the making of Grima--a man-made god with a man-engineered return. She's read that dragons become full of rage after eons of keeping their draconic forms, a degeneration that can be slowed by taking on human forms. So what, then, caused Grima's rage so soon? Was He an unstable creation to begin with? Was He simply a creature full of malice? Was He influenced by his creator?

"I...I see..." There's a part of her which is quick to wander down a dangerous line of thought--if Alm had not gone to Thabes, would Grima have remained buried beneath the sand? What would her life--what would Plegia be like--if He had never emerged into the world? But she cuts that line of thinking as quickly as she can. Grima is more than powerful enough to escape on His own, a person's intervention or not--and He certainly would have had enough time to try.

"Even if you were responsible, it's something that might have happened anyway. It does us no good to speculate on what-ifs." It's a reminder to herself just as much as it is for him. "What Grima has done since then...it isn't pretty. But you are not responsible for it." Her lips curve upwards. "Just as I am not responsible for what has happened in a future past."

After all, the question remained... how did Grima go from an abandoned dragon underground to a deity of reverent worship? When did it start? Why?

"Of course— you should prioritize your studies, so... think of it as a side thing." Honestly, her offering to help despite it all was... a bit of a surprise. Alm had been bracing himself for a rejection of the endeavour at best, but he would not say no to her offer of good will. They at least both had something to gain from it, if anything. "Thank you. It means a lot to me."

Eyes fall to his hands briefly before returning to focus on the tactician. "Honestly? It's hard to say just how much we just... don't know. Anymore." With this his shoulders slump, yet he offers a tired smile. "But we can always try to find out, even if we don't get very far, right?"

Sure, there are stories he can tell her of what he has heard of Thabes, what he thinks might have happened (and, maybe, they could wring the story out of Mila. Because Gods forbid he ever ask Duma about an alleged loss in combat). Of what little he has heard about Valentia as it was before the Gods arrived, even if knowledge of that time seems to have been purged by Them. But this all leaves out so much that has been lost. Forgotten or erased. It makes him sad, so he puts it aside.

"Sorry, Robin. You've been so kind— to offer me those words." He manages to say, even as his mind fights itself that he can only say he 'didn't know' so much before it stops sounding like a reasoning and starts being an excuse. How many more mistakes will he make from his own ignorance and negligence—? Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath, pushes that away, and refocuses on Robin.

"You're right." He decides to relent. After all, he had said as such himself! He could not change what he did, simply seek to understand the consequences. The outcomes. That's a work in progress, honestly, with some recent events in his life, but he would do his best. "As hard as it can be to accept. We all have our regrets, but some stuff really is out of our hands."

A pause.

"Though it sounds like your story has taken some... winding paths." Was that time travel? That sure sounded like it. A feat he thought only feasible in stories, when even the Turnwheel could only grant him a second chance! Not that he's about to ask, it sounds like she didn't quite like what she saw. "It... must have been really hard. I'm just a stranger to you, really, but... I think you're real strong of heart, you know?" Alm's smiles have always been genuine, but he hopes it captures his feelings none the less.