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Eliwood is a Golden Deer professor of Swords and Authority
Eliwood is from post-FE7/pre-FE6 and has not yet taken the title of Marquess of Pherae. His mother holds the title while he's at the academy
General RP etiquette applies. Minor godmodding, in the form of moving characters along if they've agreed to go somewhere, is fine. If you have any questions, please feel free to DM me!
I kindly ask for no text that's colored or text that's formatted differently, like cursive. small text is fine!
I'm happy to assume A Rank was reached with all supports, but I am open to discussion.
He is from an unpaired ending currently. While I have ship preferences, I am not going to state them so that no one feels pressured. Plus, just because I ship something doesn't mean it will work out. Chemistry is first and foremost
That being said, shipping is not a priority in the sense that I have many aspects about Eliwood that I wish to explore
Please feel free to DM/message me if you have any questions~
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Six riders, three by horse and three by air. They had traveled from Garreg Mach all the way through Alliance territory to Derdriu to obtain the sought after lumenthus flowers. The problem being the flowers keep their bloom for such a short time without a botanist's skilled hand so they need to hurry. With six riders the academy hopes to raise their chances of returning with blooms in tact.
The other problem is his gear and supplies have been tampered with. A bag of soil is upturned and spread across the ground while his bridle has been cut. A quick look at the other two stabled horses show similar issues. A saddle missing, gear scattered, broken. Who could have done this? The pegasi are stabled not too far, he should check on them.
"I bet those damn fliers did this."
Eliwood stops and turns toward his fellow rider, a knight of the academy. "What do you mean?"
"Haven't you heard? Guess not since you're new and all. There's always been a bit of rivalry between us riders and those that fly. Didn't think they'd sink this low."
He's hesitant to believe him. Surely they wouldn't spook the horses and jeopardize their mission over a petty rivalry.
"Look, here comes one now. Let's see what she's got to say for herself."
When Hugh first sees the advertisement, a job hunting game wasn't so odd to him. Food has to come from somewhere, and, though he's not a seasoned hunter, he has a basic understanding when it comes to settng traps. So, without much thought to it, he applies, and his new employer hires him on to handle the background work.
But, as his group collects what their contraptions haul in, and the more accustomed hunters bring game to add to the lot, Hugh recognizes a concerning problem. The number of people they've hired on is far more than he would have considered, even for a feast meant to be shared by many. With the amount of people hunting down food, this would seriously put a dent into the ecosystem, wouldn't it? At some point, survival turns into greed.
No, this does not sit well with him at all.
Still, he has offered his services. He'd have to think how to approach this. Like, if it's counted by weight, could he sneak a rock into the shipment for every critter he catches? would they notice an Entire Box of Rocks?
They're not great ideas, but it doesn't stop him from contemplating. It's not just him stopping that's important. He needs help. Someone who's got the same idea about how insane the whole set up is.
So he tests the waters, looking to one of the others currently on break.
"Hard work, isn't it?" He asks. "I've caught a few, but the quota's steep."
Eliwood has done the math and the math is not mathing. If they keep hunting at the pace the group has been, then it won't be long before the area becomes over hunted. He had not thought much of it at first, but the more he sees brought back, the more worried he grows.
Something must be done. But what is the question.
It's understandable that the festival requires a large amount of food but he refuses to do as at the expense of the animals they're hunting. The most direct course of action would be to speak with the mayor himself but this isn't Pherae, he's not acting as a representative of the church and he doesn't wield power here in the same way.
So...what do so?
He's pulled from his contemplative thoughts by another one of the hunters that's been hired on. He has not met him before, but his hair is a very familiar shade...
"I find myself in a similar predicament. There's not much game to be hunted right now. Press the population too much and this area won't have enough for the spring, either. I wonder if we might supplement our hunt in another manner."
You’re sent to House Burgundy as part of a security unit. The viscount is extremely paranoid that he’s going to be the next victim and has been disrupting all other investigations and meetings to demand protection. This is mostly to keep him quiet. After two days, the man is found dead in his kitchen with a knife in his chest, and now YOU’RE being accused of doing it.
The grounds of the manor have been quiet all night and that worries Eliwood. Rumors of a killer have spread across the Alliance and whether or not Viscount Burgundy is right in his paranoia, this situation is all too familiar.
Doused lights and assassins that dart silently through darkened corridors. Poor, young Zephiel almost lost his life that night. Too young to fully understand the machinations of twisted men but old enough for their blades. Eliwood thinks of him now as he patrols the perimeter of the manor with his rapier at his side.
A shrill shriek rends the air and dies in the same second. He whips toward the sound and then breaks out into a run. Another shriek, louder this time, piercing his skull, letting him know that he draws closer. Others join him, drawn by the same siren shriek.
Through the sitting room, the hall, past the scullery, and into the kitchen. A frightened maid stands in the corner but his eyes are drawn to the spectacle laid out on the kitchen table. Viscount Burgundy. Dead. A knife embedded in his chest and blood staining his clothes. He wears his housecoat as if he had only nipped down to clear his mind or to settle his nerves. He had enough of them after the past month.
And standing above him, Raven.
"He!" The maid points at accusingly at the mercenary. Eyes wide and rattled, she yells, "He did it!"
Two more men burst in after him. A steward and the viscount's brother. "Now what's— Edwin!" The brother's eyes flash dangerously and he starts toward Raven, but before he can make it a single step Eliwood whips around and blocks his path.
Things had happened quickly, once they had arrived.
Well, no, he supposed that was not entirely true.
Like most security details, especially those to a noble’s house, things had moved at a stately and sluggish pace even before they had set foot on the premises. It was not merely enough to have been sent for, to make the journey, and to have been briefed by the butler and a series of vassals - and Raven could not begrudge the man his caution. If he had been the paranoid lord of a shuttered villa amidst a series of killings, he would not even have let strangers within the borders of his land, let alone into his home - but he supposed Fodlan was different in this regard.
However, once the tour of the grounds have been walked by butler and steward, the assignment of quarters, dinner, the sun setting - all this seemed to happen in the space of half a heartbeat, until the quiet of night settled around them, and the household had done their part to put their master to bed quietly, with assurances that the fine gentlemen sent by Garreg Mach would take it from there.
Raven had not wanted to spend overlong in the company of Lord Pherae, certainly not with conspiracy in the air - he felt no particular ill-will, but the crisp dark within his chest burned against its confines, and every breath he took felt acrid.
To walk sentry was only natural, marking the halls of the villa to memory - the movement within the kitchen, however, was not normal, and the stink of blood rang metallic in tandem with the echo of the shriek.
Raven burst in from one side at the same moment the maid did from the other, and her eyes settled heavily on him for a moment as the thunder of footsteps and the thunder of his heart mirrored one another, and he hadn’t even the time to form the shape of the word No, before he saw her make the connection in her brain.
Raven’s eyes did not leave the girl’s as he lifted his hands coolly to show bare palms, even as the viscount’s brother lunged for him.
He breathed in once, calm and slow, and flicked his gaze to the semi-circle of people, from steward, to relative, to maid, then finally, to Lord Pherae.
A beat.
“I did not see who did it,” he said, purely to Eliwood, voice bitter with spite.
“Oh, well, pardon foolish Edwin for not lining the halls with mirrors - Robert, call for the butler, and make ready a room for interrogation, we shall have him dead to rights in an hour.” The flash of rage kindled something familiar in Raven, and he forced himself not to meet it.
“That’s a waste of time. There’s someone still on the property -”
“Quiet! Lord Eliwood, strip him of his arms, if you please. Or are you in conspiracy with this brigand?”
"There is no conspiracy, Lord William." Eliwood remains steadfast between the lord and Raven. "The academy sent us to provide support. We gain nothing by betraying House Burgundy. What's more, the killer is likely still nearby—"
"He's right there!" William points at Raven, spittle flying with his accusation. "The maid said so! You heard her the same as I, Lord Eliwood."
When they turn to look, the maid seems to be trying to make herself become one with the wall. Eliwood can't say he blames her.
"Miss, if you would kindly come over here."
Addressing her directly causes her to jump but she does as he requests, slinking to stand in front of her, eyes wary on Raven standing behind him.
"Please, look at me." She jumps again and turns her gaze towards him. "Can you take a deep breath for me?"
The maid stares at him as if he's grown another head.
"We have no time for—!"
"Lord William." Eliwood's voice cuts sharply through his protest. "The maid is a key witness at this point. We need her testimony. But before that, she must be calm enough to recollect what occurred. Now," he turns his attention back to the maid. "A deep breath, if you please."
She nods shakily, takes a few short breathes, and then manages a longer, deeper breath, exhaling as her shoulders relax. She still looks jittery but not so much.
"May I have your name, miss?"
"P-Penelope."
"A lovely name, Miss Penelope. Now, could you tell me what you saw?"
She nods. "I...I came in to do my duties. I clean the kitchen, sir. After- after everyone has finished, so that it's- it's clean for the morning." She's rambling but she can't help herself. "I came in and Lord Edwin was... he was..." she nods toward where he laid now. "He was like that and he-" her eyes dart to Raven, "he was standing over him. He did not look panicked at all!"
"Did you see him with the dagger in his hand?"
Penelope presses her lips together but then shakes her head. "No, my lord, I did not."
"That proves nothing!" It's William who speaks now.
"On the contrary, it proves that Lord Edwin was already dead when she entered. We have one more testimony." Eliwood turns to Raven. "Raven, what happened when you entered?"
"Oh, hello!" Smiling, the cleric greets the man — Eliwood, was it? — with a slight bow of her own. "Any friend of Ninian's is a friend of mine! I'm Silque, a cleric from the continent of Valentia."
Unfortunately, as she excitedly frees a hand to shake, she forgets that her hands are still otherwise occupied. The bundle in her arms, disturbed from its rest, suddenly squirms. A tiny paw (!) sticks straight out of the blanket, and the entire package threatens to tumble to the floor—
"Oh dear!" Mildly alarmed, Silque scrambles to wrap the kitten securely once more. Tucking the fabric back into place, she offers a sheepish shake of her head. "As you can see, kind sir, I've also come to drop off a special customer, hee hee. Would you like to try holding him?"
Moving with more care this time, she peels back the hood to reveal wide amber eyes, set in the midst of an astronomical amount of unruly fur.
Valentia. He has not heard of this continent but he suspects that will be the case with many that he meets here. There is so much to the world outside of Elibe.
The bundle in her arms begins to move and out sprouts a tiny paw with ripe toe beans. He holds out his hands lest her efforts fail but she quickly regains control.
"A special customer indeed. I've heard that the cafe is taking in stray cats."
Silque reveals the kitten bundled in her arms in a mess of unruly fur and he cannot help but smile. "You would not mind?" He offers the kitten one of his fingers, to see if he will be accepted, and as soon as he draws near the kitten begins to bat playfully at his digit. His smile only widens.
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Miriel rounds the corner to find a man trying to stand up once more. A new hire, much like she had been; a fellow Golden Deer at that. How horrible it was that he would have to cope with sleepwalking merely days after arriving at the Academy. Or would he handle it well? How curious.
She approaches him, Miriel’s thumb and forefinger pressed to her own chin as she begins to closely analyze the man. It was obvious he had been out of sorts; after all, Miriel had been analyzing his sleepwalking throughout the night. Unfortunately, she only caught the tail end of this little affair.
Otherwise, she would be able to explain the blood.
Miriel mumbles to herself, “hm, the subject is in a precarious state. He’s panting, breathless. Likely due to the somnambulance…” She presses the back of her hand against the man’s forehead. “Warm, perhaps feverish?” Backing up, Miriel crosses her arms.
“Were you aware that you were paramulating throughout the night? And that you are covered in the blood of another? Good morning, by the way.”
Wonderful way to breach the topic; surely this man would be reasonable enough so as to not shout first thing in the morning.
Her appearance is so out of the blue that it startles Eliwood into an almost sense of normalcy. She scrutinizes his appearance as if he is some sort of subject to her, seemingly not surprised to find him in this state, and then begins to mumble beneath her breath. He's still when she presses the back of her hand to his forehead, too shocked to say or do much in the moment.
"I was..." He struggles through the haze of his panic and sleep, taking a moment to wrap his thoughts around what she's said. "I was walking?" He looks around and spies a faint trail of spattered blood that leads to him.
"I don't remember." He shakes his head. "I don't remember much of anything."
And then her other words catch his attention. Morning? "It's morning? I've spent all night walking?"
Eliwood leans fully against the wall again. It’s all too much to take in at once. But just as he seems resigned to settle in, he bolts to his feet.
"I need to find who I hurt." The fact that someone else's blood is on him surely means that he's hurt someone. In his panic, he considers no other alternative, and sets off without so much as a 'good morning' to his fellow professor.
As the weather gets colder with the coming of winter, a small group of Garreg Mach’s residents seek to solve an issue: housing for the stray cats that call the streets their home. Entrepreneurial as they turn out to be, one of them has brought as many of the cats as he can reasonably house into the cafe that he owns, announcing the town’s first “cat cafe”! The additional furry faces generate no shortage of work, an increasing demand for attention, and a mighty hole in the pocket—signs outside make it clear that customers and volunteers are both welcome.
It will be his first winter away from home. Fodlan already has quite the frigid grasp and it's still yet early in the season. But word has reached him of an usual cafe in town and so when he next has free time, he finds himself searching for this cat cafe.
As described, the cafe is filled with cats, and has drawn quite the crowd of patrons. How many, he wonders, are here for the food and how many to simply sit with the cats.
Among the crowd he sees a familiar looking woman. She's the one who had danced with Ninian at the White Heron Cup. He makes his way over with a friendly smile and waves to get her attention.
"Hello," he bows slightly in greeting. "I saw you dance in the White Heron Cup with my friend, Ninian. It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Eliwood of Pherae. Are you also here to see this cat cafe?"
It appears to be a long wait to be seated so it's as good a time as any to make a friend.
Word gets out that the mayor of Baile’s daughter is an infamous foodie. Though the town hasn’t put in an order for her sake, various cooks in the monastery get fired up with the hope of creating a dish that will satisfy her. Informal competition between all these chefs sparks to life, each using the festival as an excuse to prove themselves the best cook in all of Garreg Mach. However, when you go to taste test for one of these chefs, you taste something horrifically wrong and your body starts to go numb. For reasons unknown, you’ve been poisoned.
Eliwood has been thoroughly enjoying himself amid the monastery's hustle and bustle that precedes Baile's festival. The monastery's chefs in particular have taken up the challenge with fervor, sparking an informal competition between them that the students and staff have been invited to participate in.
He has to walk slowly through the crowd, both to take in everything he can and because his eyes have suddenly grown wider than his stomach. Eventually, he comes to a stop near one of the competition tables, standing beside someone else who's here to see the cooking fervor.
"This is quite the event!" Seeing all of this exuberance is enough to put him in good mood. Just then, one of the chef's assistants walks by with trays of fresh food. Meats and fruits that have been roasted with a special sauce, a secret recipe of the chef's, and they are offered a taste.
Eliwood accepts without thinking. It smells delicious, so why not give it a taste test?
It's a bit chewy and... he coughs as a rancid taste fills his mouth. It's suffocating in its taste and he sways on the spot, vision swimming as his body grows numb. He can't... breathe...or speak...or... At some point, he crumbles to the floor, but he's not sure exactly when he arrives here. Weakly, he spits out the food, but the damage is already done. The noise of the crowd is now a distant echo in his head before darkness claims him.
Without hearing his former opponent's reply, Hector turns his back to the knight that he'd been trading blows with.
"We're done," Hector replies for the knight, before helping himself to a sword off the rack. He tosses the sword to Eliwood, as he hears an indignant huff from the departing knight. Good. He and Eliwood would need all the space they could get.
"A duel of wit?" Chuckling, Hector takes up his own axe again. "I know you didn't come all this way just to talk."
Though the blades have been dulled, they're still real steel and leather, not the wooden toys their students practice with. The kind they themselves used to spar with, back in those easy days, when all they had to do was compete and dream, before responsibility and tragedy had found them.
Swinging the axe in lazy circles at odds with the fizzing excitement, Hector walks backward, putting distance between them.
"Time for us to break our old tie!"
He's only just stepped back into an adequate swinging range before Hector bounds forward again, so eager to get started that that's exactly what he does. With a twist, he throws the momentum of his still-moving axe into a low horizontal swing. And if Eliwood's guard isn't up yet, Hector's sure it will be, just in time as always.
"It's good that I arrived." He deftly catches the blade Hector tosses his way. "Your manners have deteriorated more than I imagined."
It is no simple training sword he holds. The blade is dull, barely a cause for concern, but it has a bit of a weight to it all the same. It's really not for tossing around so carelessly but he supposes he should take it as a sign of Hector's faith in his ability.
And then there's the matter of the poor knight who left in a huff. Even after their time part, Hector hasn't changed one bit.
He should be upset about it all but he can only feel relief.
His moment of reminiscence lasts too long and leaves him unprepared for the ferocity of Hector's first attack. The axe comes at him from the right, fierce and fast, and even though he shifts his sword to block it's not enough. A metallic twang resounds as the axe crashes with his sword and breaks through the metal as if it's little more than paper to Hector's might.
"Agh!" Eliwood doubles over and hits the ground on his knees and would've been laid out on the ground had he not caught his palm against the ground. The other clutches his side as if it might stymie the pain. He can barely breathe the agony coursing trough him is so great. His sword, broken, clatters to the ground, but he cannot focus on anything save the intense agony swelling from his side. Spots of pain bloom in his sight.
"I'm—" he gasps for air, "—ha-happy to- to see you... t-too..."
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That's the Eliwood she knows, Nino thinks, as he bends to collect her scattered supplies. Always so kind and noble, ready to lend a hand at the slightest notion. Even in such a beautiful and exciting new place, Nino feels lonely; every old friend she bumps into at the monastery dispels any storm that threatens to form over her head.
"Oh," she says, becoming a little shy as she gathers her brushes in hand. "It's for an assignment. Kind of. I've...never actually painted before, but it's for something important. If you have a minute, or maybe a little longer..."
Nino studies Eliwood's form for a moment, wondering how she could get the silhouette of him to look anything like a wyvern. She frames him with her hands held in front of her face, her tongue poking out as she thinks.
"Could you please," says Nino, "lift up one foot a bit? And spread out your arms? Hold your head up? If you get tired, it's okay to take a break." She beams at him, lifting up a rather large brush and pointing it toward her canvas.
An assignment? How curious. He wonders what it's for. He doesn't dare interrupt her intense train of thought, not even when she lifts frames his figure with her hands. She looks too serious to do so.
Lift his foot? And spread his arms? Eliwood's head tilts in confusion. She hasn't told him what she's doing but, well, he'll trust her process. He cannot imagine it being anything bad.
Eliwood lifts his right leg, his foot going behind him to provide better balance, and then he spreads his arms to either side.
"Like...this?" He suddenly sounds very unsure of himself.
While many are using this new technology for leisure, the church has found a more practical use: surveillance. Tired of students traipsing about the Goddess Tower in droves at the annual ball, the monastery staff have set up devices that keep watch over forbidden grounds even when no one is around to see… which you only find out once you realize you’ve accidentally broken one. Two roads lie ahead of you—the one where you come clean about what has transpired and risk an Ethereal Ball under watch, and the one where you do not and risk expulsion for lie by omission. [Grants Gauntlets +1]
As the Ethereal ball drew closer, it was all the students talked about. Sue heard the name wherever she went: her classroom, the stables, the town, and even the training grounds, where she was currently practicing with the bows. She had no interest in the event, but there was a name that kept popping up in every conversation she unwillingly overheard: The Goddess Tower.
What was so special about that tower? Why were the students so obsessed with the inside of it?
Having heard about it enough, she decided that she needed to see this place. Without any hesitation, Sue left the training grounds and began to make her way toward where she thought the tower would be. The cathedral.
She didn’t even realize that she still had her practice bow and arrows with her until she got to the gates of the cathedral.
Swiftly making a more than needed direction change due to her blunder, she made a left, following down the path toward wherever it led. Fortunately, it took her to the place she was looking for.
She was… underwhelmed with the sight of The Goddess Tower, it didn’t look like anything special to her. Dissatisfied with the place, she decided to go back to the training grounds, though as Sue took a step backwards to leave, she felt a chill go down her spine.
She didn’t need the winds to tell her she was being watched.
The doe quickly scanned the area, eyes traveling from one direction to another, until she finally spotted a box-like object placed behind her, on the high-right corner of the wall near the side entrance to the cathedral. She had never seen anything like it.
Was it magic…? More importantly, was it malicious?
She couldn’t tell. Though she saw the way it focused on her when she made eye contact with it, almost as if she was the one being hunted by the strange device. Gripping her wooden bow in her hands, she without hesitation, readied an arrow and fired right into its supposed ‘eye’.
It shattered on impact.
The device was watching. She had to shoot it.
The winds told her— no. She listened to her own voice and acted on impulse and now… she has broken something, and by the way the students were describing it, breaking something— especially in relation to The Goddess Tower, was a big deal… one that could inconvenience everyone at the Ethereal Ball.
Even if she was risking a severe punishment, she had to turn herself in. She wouldn’t be the one who ruined an event her classmates were looking forward to all year, so she quickly made her way to the only place where she knew a professor would be: The Officer's Academy. More specifically, the Golden Deer Classroom.
When she opened the doors to her classroom, her eyes immediately scanned the room for a professor. Sue wasn’t acquainted with too many teachers at the Officer’s Academy, and it looked like none of which she recognized were here.
At the front of the classroom, there was a man writing lesson plans on the blackboard. Sue could only assume he was a professor or at least some kind of assistant because he wasn’t wearing the uniform of the Academy.
He would have to do.
As Sue approached the professor to tell on herself, something about this man seemed familiar to her.
It was his fiery red hair.
Sue couldn’t see this man’s face because his back was turned, so she couldn’t confirm anything just yet, but she couldn’t help calling out to him anyways, “…Master Roy?”
Oh. This was not Master Roy.
The two had the same hair and eye color, but that’s all Sue could tell they had in common at the moment.
“I… mistook you for someone else,” Sue said as she noticed the confusion on the man’s face, “I’m sorry.”
Curses.
Sue didn’t know what to say after that, but she desperately needed to say something, anything, after that embarrassing mix up, but if she said what she came here to own up to… that would make it so much worse. But it had to be done.
She couldn’t— no, wouldn’t— be the one who would throw the event into turmoil for everyone.
“I… broke a device near The Goddess Tower. I felt that I was being watched, so I acted on impulse…” She bowed her head in apology, hoping to hide the embarrassment she felt from earlier and the shame that came with it, “I don’t want to ruin everyone’s time at the ball, so please don’t punish anyone else for my mistake.”
Devising lesson plans is a new and interesting use of his time. When he thinks of how to pass on his skill at swordplay, he considers the way he was taught by his father and by Marcus. His days spent in repetition of drills so that he could call upon his skill without hesitation. It is the kind of determination these young students will need in order to be prepared for any combat situation.
Because at its core, Garreg Mach teaches its students in the ways of war. And war, as much as he detests it, is a facet of life that they must all come to terms with.
Just as he must grow accustomed to all his new duties as a teacher. As a Lycian lord and future Marquees of Pherae, there are several courtesies and a certain level of decorum that he is accustomed to. All of those expectations have been shattered since arriving, but quite pleasantly so. He never cared much for all the titles and pleasantries. So it is no surprise when one of the students comes wondering into his classroom during break. Hearing their approach, he turns to find a young girl with a familiar shade of green hair and features that look most familiar to him.
Is she...from Sacae? And when she speaks, he is almost sure that she is. Not even a school uniform can hide the distinct traits of the Sacaens.
However, he does not know who this Roy is. Perhaps there is another professor here with hair like his. He has only just begun teaching here so who is he to say.
Eliwood shakes his head. "It's alright. I'm Eliwood, it's a pleasure to meet you. Miss...?" The lilt of his tone implores her to provide her name.
Ah, he sees the reason for her coming to him. The faculty had been told of these devices that would help in providing extra security for the upcoming event. Eliwood didn't quite understand them but they were important. "I see. Did you bring the device with you? If not, please take me to it."
Eliwood approaches Serra with a crinkled smile. “It was terribly rude of me to keep you all waiting, but I’m sure with you here Hector has not wanted for company.”
The pink pig-tailed healer is a bright and cheerful sort, radiant in her enthusiasm. A little too much for some but Eliwood finds her pleasant company. For the most part.
“Might I join you?” He gestures toward the seat and when he receives confirmation, he seats himself across from her. “I hope Fódlan has been treating you well. Are you working with the church here?”
"Well, after all this time, you better join me!" she cries, part-joyful and part-indignant in the way that only Serra has fully and beautifully mastered. "Yes, I am! I've been here in Fódlan for... oh... a few years, now! I had to take a break, a bit, when I got sick..." She waves that subject off, an easy pass of her hands. "But! More importantly! I'm with someone, now! Hehe... did you expect that? It's someone you know, someone from Elibe... Can you guess? Hehe..." How funny would it be if Lord Eliwood thought it was Lord Hector? She'd simply lose her mind, honestly...
He would have inquired about her health but Serra waves it off so quickly that he gathers she would rather not dwell on it. Made all the more obvious by how exuberant she is for her next topic.
"Is that so? You have my congratulations then." He crosses his arms thoughtfully. Someone he knew, which obviously meant they were from Elibe as he had only just arrived. He thinks of who she often was beside and the first and most obvious answer was Erk. The young made that was Pent's apprentice. Or rather, more like a son to him, he felt, but that was neither here nor there.
He could say the obvious answer. Or he could not.
"I have not had the opportunity to know who all from Elibe is here. I know of only, well, one in fact. And if you have been here for that many years, they must have been here for quite awhile too. Don't tell me," he grins, "you have managed to win the heart of Ostia's Marquess himself."
Somewhere, he feels Hector must be sneezing.
Eliwood continues by shaking his head. "Erk would be quite disappointed if that is the case. Last I saw you two, you could rarely be separated. Is he here as well?"
Even without looking over, Legault senses potential danger in that growling tone. One glance confirms it—down the street there is a man with the puffed-up stance of a person protecting their own ego looming over a woman in colorful performer’s clothes. She pulls a stringed instrument closer to her chest.
“I’m sorry sir, but I need to prepare for my next-”
“Don’t gimme that tripe. Life-changing, they call you. Just some pretty words to get people to throw coins at you, eh?”
There’s movement, all at once. A hand roughly grasping at the musician’s arm. A sharp gasp, a jerk away. Heads turn. Notably—alarmingly—one with fiery red hair is among them. If he’s here, there’s really no other choice but to intervene. Debts to pay, and all that. Legault falls into step behind and then beside the young man, and it’s as easy as it had ever been. Easier still is overpowering someone so distracted by their anger that they’re utterly unaware of your presence.
A knife to the brute’s throat is more than enough to draw his attention away from the singer. Legault forces a few steps back, then tilts his head to glance to the other new interloper.
“Lord Eliwood,” he greets, “Good, I could use your negotiating skill. See, this man seems to be stirring up some trouble with this lovely young woman. Do you think you could try talking some sense into him?”
Eliwood cannot help but be drawn to the spectacle. Rumor has spread of a traveling musician with power significant enough to divine the future. He would not lie that he's hoping to glimpse brilliant blue hair shimmering in icy reminiscence.
No such thing occurs and he reminds himself that those two are far from here and safer for that reason. This lady as well would be far better off away from this unruly group. He can see their ire from even the back of the crowd.
It takes some effort but Eliwood maneuvers his way to the front with an 'excuse me' and 'pardon me' as he slips between shoulders. He does not even notice that an extra shadow trails him.
The brute draws a short yet sharp knife, brandished in one fist as he snarls insults to the dancer. Without thinking, Eliwood places himself between him and her, and finds the knife point threatening to split his tunic and insides.
And another knife threatens to split the man's throat. He's backed away a few steps, guided by the hand of an old friend.
"Legault?" Eliwood stares in disbelief, but quickly focuses on the situation at hand. They can speak momentarily. The dancer at his back clings to his cape protectively and he offers her his hand to still her nerves.
"She's a fraud! She took my coin and gave me nothin'! I'm gettin' what's owed to me!" The brute is more bark than bite, Legault's blade keeping him in line, but his eyes are narrowed in hate.
"Here!" The dancer behind him shoves coins into his hand. "This is what he gave me! Please, leave me alone!"
Eliwood is disinclined to go with her solution after he's drawn a blade on her. Still, he holds onto the coin for now, and keeps himself positioned between her and him.
"Your actions have been reprehensible. I should say we get the guard, or even the Knights of Seiros, to step in. A day or so to cool off behind bars would do you well."
The brute gnashes his teeth and Eliwood has the distinct impression he would have already come at him if not for Legault's blade.
"What say you, my friend?" Eliwood tilts his head so that it's clear who he's talking to. "I fear this man is far beyond a peaceful resolution if he is already drawing his blade over a few coins."
Though they may have little choice in the matter. A crowd and clamor of this size is sure to draw the attention of the guard at least.
Harken immediately goes still at the physical contact, still distancing himself by his inability to meet the young lord's gaze. Eliwood, much like his father, had always been kind of heart; it was not unexpected to be given such gentleness by that knowledge alone, but that did not mean Harken was prepared to withstand it nor worthy of it.
To live a long life beside friends…
It was the sort of peaceful goal that felt right at home coming from Eliwood, and it was one he dearly wished to become true -- whether he was there to see it or not.
"If that is what you wish, my lord, then you will have all of me," Harken responds regardless, intent on clinging to whatever redemption he may yet earn by properly returning to House Pherae's service. He owed much to Lord Elbert and Pherae as a whole, and if he could return even a fraction of what he'd been gifted by renewing his oaths to Elbert's son, he would do so without hesitation. Even if it took everything he had left, even if he was never fully redeemed of his failures, he would lay it all down in House Pherae's honor.
His eyes do flick up at that statement, tentative contact as he shifts his weight.
"I…shall try, my lord. I have much to atone for, and I cannot do that if I die now." Not yet. Only after sufficient punishment or redemption has been achieved. Why else would he still be alive to have this conversation now? "Of course. Whatever questions you have, I will answer as best I am able. Fodlan is…certainly different from Elibe. It would be my honor -- though, I am sure one of the locals would be better suited to properly learning of the area, if that is your desire, Lord Eliwood."
Such kindness was often a balm on festering wounds, but it could so easily twist like a knife with no malice in a creature such as himself.
"I am sorry and-- and truly regretful to have caused your Lady mother -- and you, all of you -- to worry over me."
It is a relief merely to hear that Harken will at least strive to live. The man's every word and movement feel as if he is but a push away from death. However, sensing the way he stiffens beneath his touch, Eliwood carefully removes his hand, but his earnest, clear blue gaze does not waver.
"You have nothing to atone for, Harken. You are not responsible for what happened to my father. Please do not punish yourself further."
How much he will take those words to heart, Eliwood does not know, but he cannot let the man think that he or his mother believe that he has anything to atone for.
"No doubt I will speak to many Fodlan natives while I am here, but I would be grateful to have the opinion of a man such as yourself. Someone that I trust and that calls Pherae his home." He does not question if Harken still does despite the time he's spent away from them. There's no doubt to him that he does.
"Worrying is natural when you care for someone's wellbeing. If you wish to write my mother a letter, I have no doubt she would be thrilled to receive it." He smile turns lighter for a moment as he thinks of his mother. "I will be writing to her myself later in the week. There is much for her to hear."
There is one last thing he wishes to address. "I do not know what has brought you here, if you no longer wish to be part of Pherae's knights, and if so I will support you in any endeavor you choose. But rest assured that you will always have a home in Pherae and be welcomed there."
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It would be rude, Fiora feels, to turn down the handkerchief offered to her. Completely impolite. So though she has no plan to cry before him, she takes the soft fabric in her hands, and stares at it, stares at the bits of assistance he's offering up, he's surrendering before her.
He needn't do this -- any of this. Encourage her, stand here before her, attempt to be there for her. She doesn't deserve it. After all the things she has done... all the people she has failed...
(In her mind's eye, she can see her; Lyra, standing tall before her, blood streaming down her face from her scalp, smile fixed on her lips...)
"Do you remember, Lord Eliwood? How you found me?" The longer she looks at the handkerchief, the more bloodstained it becomes. "I had just lost my Wing... my failure." A stone solidifies in her throat, as the ground swallows her whole. Untethered, she forces words out. "After we departed... I created my own company. And I lost them all again. I couldn't face them... Ilia... My sisters... So I ran." Her fingers tighten on the cloth, molars grit. "I'm not sure a person like me has the right to be happy..."
Eliwood will never forget that fog-enshrouded island. Even if he wanted to, it's burned into his mind, and now years later he can still smell the sunken earth and feel the chill of its grip on his spine. An ominous place best left in only the memories of fables.
"You have a gentle heart, Fiora. I am sorry that you went through all of that. Loss is not easy to deal with, least of all alone. If I had not had my friends with me after losing my father I am not sure how I would have recovered."
He continues, his tone soft and his clear blue eyes imploring her consideration. "The world is already harsh enough. You need not make it more so for yourself, nor deny those that care for you the opportunity to be there. If nothing else, please remember that."
This plotting call is mostly for Eliwood as he still doesn't have a lot. also, none of my muses are unaffiliated, so I will need unaffiliated muses for the mission board prompts
Mission Board (needs unaffiliated muse!)
Eliwood: secret tunnel secret tunnel! - I think it'd be fun to a deep roads-esque plot with this, where they get trapped and find a tunnel that leads them further underground and they come across some weird monsters or something and then finally make their way out. alternatively, atla inspired where they have to 'trust in love' and relinquish their dependence on torches and any other light source to then follow the crystals out. either way, come get trapped in a cave with Eliwood! he might need some time to rest and breath along the way
Eliwood: poison - he has a weak constitution, though since he's in his prime it usually isn't that bad for him. unless he were to get poisoned. perhaps they also have to work to suss out whoever is trying to assassinate the mayor's daughter while also making sure Eliwood doesn't, you know, die Taken: Serra
Ephraim: weapon prep [axe] - this man loves his weapons. come discuss the weapon triangle with him and why lances are the best (ignore the axe point). or, you know, tell him he's being weird idk Taken: Wolf
Non-Mission Board
Ephraim: cleaning duty [heavy armor] - I'm partly on the heavy armor grind and partly Ephraim is being punished for dueling during the ball. This also isn't his first rodeo being punished for something he did. it's very reminiscent of his days in Grado. Perhaps...someone with the right disposition and words could get him to open up? (taken: nina)
Eirika: Zenith orb [Any] - 1 prompt I think could be fun for either of them (or both, me writing them in the same post rather than with both blogs) is a sort of, pre-TOA interaction with them as emblems in Elyos. for my muses, it would be them third pov'ing their emblem's life in Elyos, getting a glimpse of a past convo or interaction with an Elyos muse before that Elyos muse came to the academy. so it could also inform a bit of how the Elyos muse sees the current, real life version of the character (if that all makes sense) taken: mauvier
Eliwood: Zenith orb [Any] - For this prompt, I think it'd be fun to do more of a prompt where he gets one of the clothes of his feh alts (groom or valentines) where he's taken over by the spirit of the alt, so to speak. so for valentines he's handing out flowers or groom he's looking for his partner (he's not married currently lol) but cant remember anything about them, and so he needs someone to help get him back to normal (maybe just find the orb again?)
Eliwood/Eirika: Cats! - Either as visitors or volunteers. Maybe they are also catching stray cats for the cafe to take in or maybe they just want to visit over a cup of tea with kitties present (eirika: taken with marianne; eliwood: taken with silque)
