exhalted ⚔︎ blade

He sets the tray back down on the table, and leans over toward Chrom's tray — still unfinished, still a work in progress. Henry jumps onto the stool next to Chrom and rests his chocolate-covered palm on his chin, feet swinging from the seat. "Really," he points at the tray, "you just need to make what your heart desires! Liiiiike...

"I brought a couple of sweet treats over from good ol' Plegia," he adds, chirping. "I heard some of those soldiers always talk about how they would be better with chocolate, so I had to give it a try! This tray is like... childhood, kinda, to me! So if you're thinking of friends," if you're thinking of me, "you have to put allll your affections into chocolate. Just like me!"

He tilts his head. "Have you started thinking about fillings yet? What would your friends here," meeee?, "like?"

   It was proper advice, and perhaps the best he could’ve received even if from the least likely of sources. It was so simple, too, how could Chrom have overlooked such a possibility? Perhaps his lacking skill in any sort of culinary art caused Chrom to miss the most obvious of possibilities? It was no matter, for Henry might’ve saved Chrom’s behind, far more than he could ever put into words.

   “Henry…” Chrom says, his voice radiant in relief as he clasps a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “thank the Gods I’ve run into you.” Chrom could all but hug Henry at this moment, but it likely was more fitting that he should thank him in more present ways. Such as… 

   “Chocolate… mmm. What do you like?” Chrom had considered Henry an irreplaceable ally, and friend in his own right, even if they hadn’t been the closest in times of war. Despite that, how could Chrom not offer chocolate to him in turn? Both as a friend of Chrom’s and as the possible savior of his little project. Plus, Chrom would rather handle this first before possibly sending Henry on a stalking mission. 

With his wings, he had been scouting for safer areas to smother alone. It would have been better to find a more efficient way to fight the fires, before it started spreading beyond the now abandoned field- but he can't trust anyone here to help him.

And that was because, despite everything- they were running about, tossing water and fanning the flames further. More than once, he’s had to quickly maneuver away from a sudden burst of heat, flying further upward to avoid any injuries. 

At last, someone comes to his aid in managing a section of the flames- smothering it through a series of makeshift blankets. Not a knight, but a professor, so as far as the job was concerned, he could be a little curt.

“Next, we keep doing this wherever we can.” A flap of the wings brings him closer down to his helper.

   “Understood, just a moment-” cupping his hands together before his mouth, Chrom takes a few steps towards the Knights, shouting. “HEY! IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR YOU, CEASE DOUSING THOSE FLAMES WITH WATER! SMOTHER IT INSTEAD!”

   His voice was booming, and it carries throughout Gronder Field as the Knights turn to face Chrom with looks of indignance and surprise. They don’t look immediately convinced, yet they still opt to lower the bucket in tow. Perhaps they were already warned one too many times? Whatever the case may be, it was clear that Chrom’s attempt was a success, if a temporary one. 

"I'll come with you tomorrow," she said. "I didn't see anything like a gold deposit in the direction I went. My pegasus can carry things for us too."

She then pulled out the berries that she had been able to collect and offered them to Chrom. A small offering, but it was what she could find. She smiled apologetically. What else could she have done though? Sighing, Hinoka hummed.

"Let's use logs instead of twigs for our fire tonight... they'll last longer," she murmured. "Cooking them up sounds good right about now."

Hinoka couldn't hide her shiver. This time it was from the chill. Any sort of warmed food sounded good right now.

"Maybe we should see about making some traps for the.... rabbits... I been seeing around."

   “I’m not the best at cooking,” an understatement to behold, but could they afford expert chefs in this time? “However, simple roasting should be within my wheelhouse. Let’s start that fire.” 

   With the logs gathered, and a few spare cuts of grass at their disposal, Chrom works to get a fire started; the roiling flame was pretty, a sole source of light in the encroaching darkness. Though he wasn’t sure why, something about this little light offered a moment of respite that eases Chrom’s mind, almost as though a lack thereof would prove horrifyingly detrimental.

   And then, he begins to roast their berries, continuing the conversation as he does. “You’re right, a few traps would prove… rather beneficial at this moment. I do not believe berries will be sustainable for us.” He laughs, before adding on, “two warriors surviving off of roasted berries… It feels like a sort of cruel joke.” When the berries finish, cooked far from perfection, but still edible, and hopefully more satiable in this state than otherwise, Chrom hands a few to Hinoka, giving her extra to account for her pegasus.

The others working for the late viscount—a chef, several maids and butlers, a gardener—merely stared down at the cobblestone ground. Chrom, who had accompanied her on this mission, stood beside her, though if he was making any expression, she could not see it. They were all gathered in a small circle outside of the mansion, by the lush garden filled with exotic Almyran plants and rare Fodlani flowers.

Yuni, despite the claims levied against her, made no noise. She was used to this. The language of accusation had long replaced her common parlance, and so when its incriminating words had finally been directed towards her, she found herself fluent in understanding it. Now, the manner of its contents was untrue, not unless she found herself briefly possessed by Shadow, and committed the heinous act without remembering it. But she knew to herself what she had been doing and why. That would not matter in a case like this, however. To absolve one of guilt, it must be transferred to another.

Sable continued.

"Now I don't want to accuse you of killing Viscount Burgundy, but—"

Before he could finish, Yuni interrupted.

"That's fine. You can accuse me. It's good practice to be wary of strangers, especially when your master had already been threatened before."

That was the very thing they set out to investigate, in fact—the mysterious letters that had been plaguing the nobleman. Though the pair had gotten nowhere near close to discovering the sender before the viscount was brutally murdered. With this new case on their hands, it seemed the previous matter was going to remain unresolved. Yuni did not particularly like that.

Everyone in the circle, by this point, was staring at her. Yuni took this time to speak up.

"I can give you all the time to interrogate me." She really did not have the intention of doing that, not before she had time for her own interrogations at least, "But let's do this one by one. We can start with…"

She raised her hand.

"Chrom." Yuni turned to him, staring up into his blue eyes, for she was much smaller than he was, "Let's go to the back gardens. But I want you to question me properly. You don't know that I haven't done it, so don't trust me just yet."

   But something tingling in Chrom’s mind tells him to disagree. 

   He’s quickly taken out of his thoughts, when Yuni calls upon him to lead the first round of interrogations. Chrom points a finger at himself with a lame expression, confused most of all. What sort of power move would this be? Perhaps one where trust takes the forefront? Whatever the case may be, the gazes from the surrounding servants and even Yuni herself felt piercing and expecting, as if prepared for Chrom to agree. 

   “Erm…” He trails, still gathering himself as he goes to clear his throat. “So be it.” He agrees, unsure if there was time to even disagree to Yuni’s demand. “In that case, I ask that everyone else here keep any prying eyes and ears away from our interrogation.” It was fair; Chrom was concerned that, had any of the other servants, Sable especially, had insights into this initial round, then dissent would grow far too quickly for anything effective to come to fruition. As such, Chrom gives a stern look to anyone in opposition to his request. 

   “If all is understood…” Chrom begins to walk towards the place of interest; the gardens, and he looks back to ensure that Yuni follows. Once that certainty is provided, he nods along and continues to move. 

         — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —  🗡 — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — 

“You can leave the table stuff to me! It’ll be a teeeeensy bit different from the usual setting since they’re so big, but I think I can make it work!” Good thing she brought a picnic blanket with her. She calls Muffin back with a click of her tongue, jogging up to meet him halfway so he can’t decide to wander off before she can get to rifling through the bag on his side. Now where did she put that thing….?

“Did you bring any treats for Silvie?” Elise calls out over her shoulder, lifting up onto her tiptoes so she can reach further down into the saddlebag, fingers just barely brushing against the soft fabric, if she can just get a liiittle closer… “I can share some of Muffin’s if not! I have… ah, here we go!”

The princess finally emerges from the depths of the bag, a second, smaller bag in one hand, and a large quilt folded under the arm of the other. The former of the two she jogs back over to hand off to Chrom, freeing up both hands to unfurl the latter over the ground with large sweeping arches.

   Chrom (to make up for his lack of preparedness), offers a deep bow to Elise. “It seems as though I have… forgotten any snacks for Silvie… I appreciate and accept your offer, but please allow me to repay you some time in the future.” Chrom felt awful to be taking food that would otherwise go to Muffin’s mouth. 

   Chrom’s gaze is curious, he watches Elise search deep within a bag, presumably the one containing Muffin’s (and now Silvie’s by proxy) snacks. And his presumptions are quickly confirmed, when Elise unfurls everything, revealing a myriad of different snacks. Chrom’s eyes light up, an expression somewhere between impress and overwhelm. With a nod, he kneels to pick up a carrot, then calls out to Silvie gently. 

   “Hey, hey, Silvie… I have a snack…” Evidently, he was unfamiliar with animal calls such as this one. Fortunately, the promise of food seems to work in his favor, as Silvie carefully approaches, curiously. Chrom lets loose a sigh of relief, as the pegasus sniffs the carrot before steadily chewing. “Gods… it worked!” There’s a sign of exasperation in his voice, almost as though he didn’t expect this to work well in his favor. 

Takumi sighed. “Yeah, alright. I’ll help you out. I just need to take a breather for a second.” He took a moment to stretch his neck, turning to face Chrom afterwards. “And hey, wait a minute! I may be an archer, but that doesn’t mean I can’t handle close combat, you know. I’m also trained in the sword if you want a proper spar, but it’s been a while, so I might be a bit rusty.”

Maintaining his archery skills was his top priority, of course, but the monastery had a wide array of training facilities—even for things Takumi had never heard of—and he was almost tempted to return to his roots training in the katana. 

Almost. That was a problem for him to figure out later, after all the moving business was done. At this point, Takumi was sure to be swimming in furniture in his dreams…

   It was refreshing to be able to speak with someone as comfortably as he had been, especially after only just arriving at the monastery. Frankly, part of Chrom was terrified of the prospect of being so far from home with no one he knew. Relieved he was to meet such a familiar friend, and so quickly at that. 

   “Hah, funny you say that, I’ve done a bit of helping others already… so I’ll be open to continuing.” He smiles, lightly punching Takumi in the shoulder all the while. Awkward pleasantries, but whatever; “also, it sounds like I’d be sooner teaching you how to pick up a blade again, rather than sparring with you in that case!” Heartily, Chrom lets out a laugh at the idea, “are you trying to make sure I’m in top-form to be a professor, or something? Either way, perhaps this could be a teaching moment for us both, in the future. You learn swordsmanship from me, I learn bowmanship from you. Valuable, no?”

   Plus, it was as reasonable an excuse as any that Chrom could think of on the spot to spend more time with Takumi in the future. It wasn’t as though he was all that against learning how to hold a bow and arrow, rather it was far from his expertise in every respect. It would be smart for someone so inexperienced to learn from an expert, though.

Never mind the constant calls of Professor Sanaki this and Professor Sanaki that, however. As much as it may be the point of the exercise, it's still all she can do to still the twitch of her shoulders each time the words carry through the room. Is she discomfited? Charmed? Some other sensation entirely? All she knows is that, though the title does not rest as heavily on her shoulders as her true ones, it's a responsibility all the same.

( That'll teach her not to taunt Soren with it next time she deigns to attend his lecture. She's almost feeling charitable enough to offer an apology. Almost )

But still, what to say to Professor Chrom? "...Practice of the dark arts is extremely taboo," she answers sternly, gesturing back at the board where the sketch of a dark flame still rests in a corner. "It's not taught in formal institutions, and the distribution of dark tomes is prohibited in all beorc nations---because, as far as I am aware, such magic always stems from a pact with an evil spirit."

A good teacher would make him regret asking, even if just a little. "A spirit of the dark go---the dark arts," she corrects herself, "can grant their host enormous power, in exchange for eventually devouring the host's soul, rendering them nothing but an empty husk." She meets his gaze evenly. "Most mages are not willing to make such a sacrifice... and therefore even I have only met one dark mage from Tellius."

   But, of course, as much as Chrom would otherwise drop the subject, he would be doing a disservice to this moment of practice if he didn’t continue to press with difficult questions. After all, though it was far less likely for him to be met with difficult questions such as those of dark magic as a swords instructor, Chrom still wished for Sanaki to understand what could befall her, were she to become a professor in the future. 

   Especially one of reason. 

   “You seem incredibly well learned in regard to dark magics…” Almost terrifyingly so, he silently thinks, “it is to my understanding that those who recommend against doing something have experience in that very thing themselves? Is that the case for you, Professor?” An innocent question, though prying it had been, as well. On one hand, it was a probing question; one that Sanaki was more than likely to receive from others in her cohort. “You’ve mentioned only meeting one dark mage within Tellius, however you did not mention whether you studied their craft. As a professor with as much prolific knowledge as you seem to have,” and knowledge she truly did hold, “I could only imagine that the knowledge of dark magics is… enticing, as it is taboo.”

   Of course, were Sanaki to express distinct discomfort at the probing question, Chrom would drop the subject altogether. In fact, part of him does feel rather guilty for continuing this line of thought. At the same time, it would be a valuable lesson to his student; perhaps such subtle teachings took precedence in his mind? Hopefully it wouldn’t come to bite him far later. 

"What?"  

But what he had not accounted for was the noise. When Sigurd looked up into the sky, he expected a great level of silence, of solitude, but Erinyes had never told him about the great roar of wind that came from all directions, no matter where they were. 

It would be fine. The young man assigned to scout with him seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, and though wobbly, kept his seat just fine. 

"We'll keep forward!" Sigurd had no idea if the young man could hear him, and gestured with fore and middle finger, and hoped that he would follow as his pegasus dipped downward past the cover of the clouds and into the bright open sky between the emptiness and the sea. 

Thwip! 

He shouts “Understood!” as he begins to press forward, following in the path of his comrade. And soon; Chrom’s worst fears would come to pass. First, Sigurd’s pegasus rears in response to something, though Chrom couldn’t immediately see what. Then, as Chrom tries to shift closer, his pegasus rears in response to some sort of impact; an arrow, a strike likely from the pirates, with several others that quickly follow. 

Despite his inexperience, Chrom holds on, a volley of arrows soon following suit as he does. He attempts to see out his comrade, trying to catch even a hint of blue amidst the skies, yet earnestly attempting to dodge arrows whilst looking for someone else proves harder than need be. And soon, several more arrows sink into Chrom’s pegasus, one after the other, until- 

Altitude is lost, and all Chrom could do is shout “damn, damn, damn!” as he and his pegasus came careening towards the seas, soon blacking out before impact.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — 🗡 — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — 

When he next awakens, Chrom could feel sand caress his cheek. Awashed on unfamiliar shores, he groggily stands, trying to gain his bearings. He is far too disoriented to properly get a bead on where he could be. Still, Chrom is a man who carries far more care for his comrades than himself at times. Weakly, he calls out, “Sigurd…?!” An attempt to find someone who likely wasn’t there was a fruitless one, but who would Chrom be if he just gave up flatly? 

The young man pulls his partner to her feet, and Silque can tell, with years of experience, that the hand on her back is not placed just for show. So as soon as they step off stage, the cleric rushes to greet them, pulling Ninian along in her wake.

"Are either of you badly hurt?" White magic flickers in her hands as she worries, crouching to examine the girl's injury. "Goodness, that's red. It's sure to bruise, unless we---"

With those murmured words, Silque presses her palm firmly to the girl's shoulders, closing her eyes on the exhale. The earth mother's grace drains from her fingers, stitching the tissue whole once more.

Before she has a chance to answer, though, there's a warmth and a soothing feeling that spreads throughout sore muscles; it coaxes Alear to look up and glance over her shoulder in search of the redness that she knew would bruise... only to find nothing. Impressive healing magic, and done so quickly, too. "I'm okay now, thanks to you." Alear flashes a smile, albeit a sheepish one. "I'm Alear, and this is Chrom- it's nice to meet you, um...?" She certainly doesn't recognize this woman, and she knows for sure she'd recall someone as beautiful as her. A lovely pair, was it? She does giggle at that, her hand resting lightly against Chrom's shoulder. "Well, you may be the only one who thinks that after THAT display. But I appreciate it! The two of you paint a gorgeous picture of a couple- your dresses are stunning! And I think it's very cute that your blues complement each other." They seem happy, and if they had to lose in such a humiliating way, at least it was to a couple that embodied the romance of everything the ball offered.

"Congratulations on this round. I'll be rooting for you both on the next one, okay?"

   Yet his embarrassment doesn’t dwindle, especially when the Cleric refers to he and Alear as a ‘lovely pair’. It is a genuine compliment, yet one that feeds into Chrom’s bashfulness at the moment. So much so that he is left unable to speak; lucky is it that Alear handled introductions on their shared behalf. He nods along when he is introduced, and offers a light bow. 

   As Alear goes to compliment the two dancers, he nods in agreement. “She is correct, you both were in wondrous sync. I still have much to learn yet,” Chrom smiles, a warmth radiant as he does. “And I believe that I still need to work on my memorization of Ylisse’s waltz as well…” As the ruling exalt, Chrom is embarrassed that he still has not mastered the dance of his countrymen, yet he was never as strong of a dancer as he would wish to be. “All the same, I too will continue to wish for your victory in the rounds to come. It would be nice to see as dashing of a couple as the two of you claim victory, after all.”

   And, following their own incident, Chrom can’t help but nervously laugh in turn as he gives warning to the two ladies in tow. “Please, though, be careful. Neither Alear nor myself are capable healers… but I’m sure I speak correctly for the both of us in saying that we will jump to your aid if the situation permits.”

also, this isn't about her.

"hehe." she giggles, placing her hands back on her hips. it feels nice to give others some confidence in themselves. (did her sister feel like this when she helped her keep going? she wonders briefly. ) "you uh.. you got this, yeah!" then she pauses and looks around for a familiar face.

it's not hard to spot red and blue hair at all— she sees alear talking to someone she doesn't know pretty quickly.

   But he can admit, it felt nice, seeing someone so similar to his own little sister seem almost proud of herself. Despite the embarrassment of the present situation, it was almost worth having his feelings dredged up through his gritted teeth. “Understood, I’ll… wait. Though perhaps I will wander, a bit? I must admit, staying still is a lot…” Especially when so much was riding on an interaction that he wouldn’t even be present for. 

   So he bows, with that in mind. Of course, it is painfully likely that he would run into Veyle again after this; for how large this Ball is, it is rather easy to stumble into people you know without question. Especially if they sought you out with purpose. Chrom knows that it wouldn’t be hard to find him, and vice versa, and something about that is as comforting as it is terrifying. 

   “Thank you once again and… perhaps, regardless of what happens, we could chat once more? I would love to be able to speak of my own little sister, I believe she would be endeared by you.” And she likely would be standing at Veyle’s side, woefully trying to push Chrom towards his feelings just as she had in this moment. 

   “Best of luck. Or should I be the one trying to channel in luck?”

It all makes Silque feel a little silly. Still, now, in her mind, the stakes are set. She hardly minds looking the fool, not if it settles Ninian's shoulders, brings that alluring, sharp focus to the girl's gaze --- and there is a power to it, is there not, for Ninian? A joy that frees her.

So the pilgrim who has walked a thousand steps will dance a thousand more, to bring that joy to where everyone can see. Silque's feet do not tire; it is no burden at all.

Even when her partner's confidence begins to waver again, carmine gaze fluttering to and fro their competitors, Silque only squeezes the girl's hand tighter. See that girl over there with the two-toned hair, perfectly mirrored in her partner's vest?

But we match, too, Silque thinks, as she presses shoulder to shoulder and waits for the starting notes to sweep through the hall. As you are looking at me, and I am smiling back at you.

In the end, it's a perfect ten for style, because love is given so freely it was never merely a portrayal; a surprising seven in technique, because all of Ninian's critiques still amounted to something; and, well, a meagre two for choreography, because even Silque knows, for the middle set of steps, she had completely forgotten to let go of Ninian's hand.

   It only teased out further nervousness within Chrom’s heart. 

   And perhaps such thoughts influenced Chrom as he brought Alear into the dance to follow. His steps were focused, though each step taken failed to stand out. His technique was practiced, indicative of someone who spent time, and time again, yet they are middling still. While their opponents garnered rapturous cheer, hardly a peep could be heard among those watching Chrom and Alear’s each step.

   And… perhaps those thoughts were infectious still. Alear had been stiff their entire way through, perhaps the nervousness of performance in tandem with the many eyes that had been on her far longer than just this moment alone were consuming her. And perhaps that, by proxy, began to consume Chrom in tow. 

   For all it took was a singular misstep,

   And everything, like a house of cards, came crashing before all those unwitting souls who bear witness. 

   Chrom is unable to catch himself, though his partner cushions his fall as she pulls them both to the ground. Thus, nary physical pain stems from the collision. Yet, when he is able to sit up, and able to realize how he had fallen. 

   “Oh in Naga’s name- I AM SO SORRY! Are you okay?!” He shoots upright, face flushed brilliant crimson from embarrassment. He scrambles to help Alear to her feet, though perhaps the present humiliation added to his fumbling. 

   And the scores teased by the judges hardly helped either. As Chrom so awkwardly helps Alear to her feet, he is graded; a six for his technique, clear as day of someone practiced in a noble waltz, a five for his style, for it left much to be desired, though the skill he possessed was clear as day regardless.

   And a measly one for his choreography, fitting, as two bumbling idiots tumbling to the ground following a sort of romantic display was hardly something to be considered as choreography at all. 

   “Fuck,” he quietly curses under his breath, opting to take his partner's hand once they both are finally standing upright. 

   His face shines that of brilliant crimson as he looks away; their loss was embarrassing, sure, but the way in said loss came to be was far more embarrassing to Chrom than he could put to words. Even now, as they steadily dance together, all he can muster is a quiet “I’m sorry…”

   As he is pulled closer, Chrom’s eyes train to the ground, admiring the grass they stood on. One deep breath followed by another, before he can find the confidence to properly focus on Alear. “We… yeah. I did have fun, I’m sorry I was not of much use as a partner.” He laughs awkwardly at his self-deprecating comment. 

   Yet, as much as Chrom felt the heat of embarrassment lingering through his body, it was hard for him to deny how happy he was to have been close with Alear in this present moment. To that, a smile forms on his blushed face, and consideration crosses the mind. Perhaps she was right, and what they needed to perform well was to be alone. “In that case,”

   “Shall we dance, partner?” 

   Without waiting for a response, Chrom begins to guide the two in a waltz; and as he does he chastises himself mentally once more. ‘Where was this when we needed it for the competition?’ 

   “Hah…” Perhaps the intimacy of the moment causes Chrom to show a more vulnerable part of himself. “I’m really glad I am not merely an Emblem attached to a ring, or bracelet.” He muses, words reminiscent of the ones Alear had spoken to him many times before, “after all, how could-!” but he quickly shuts up, uncertain if what he wishes to say is right to say.