Phantom Pains

Chapter Two

Felix clutched his sword, a custom-weighted Wo Dao, and spun it in his grip. It had been his ally throughout the war, severing the heads of countless imperial soldiers, even tasting the blood of Edelgard herself when she took that monstrous form. As ridiculous as it sounds, he always thought of the thin metal as a comforting companion, a piece to his puzzle, nestled within his palm and ready to show the world his skill. After losing his hand to a shift in fate, however, it seemed foreign, forbidden; a language that he could read but not speak.

He caught his reflection in the polished steel, his unkempt hair falling around his face, blue stubble pricking up from his chin. He narrowed his eyes and jolted backward, impaling the weapon's length into the straw training dummy behind him.

He shook his head, rubbing his temples, recalling the words Byleth spoke to him yesterday: "A swordsman isn't all that you are, Felix"

But then...what? He pondered with a sigh, clearing the sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve. His ears pivoted as he heard rustling at the door of the training grounds. A tall, slender figure slunk through the edges of the room, clinging to the shadows. Felix blinked; his eyebrow raised. He reached behind him, plucking his sword from the dummy's breast.

"Hey!" he called out, his voice a formidable chill through the summer air. "What are you doing?" Shoulders squared he walked towards the intruder, the embellishments of the Wo Dao's handle cutting into his flesh as his grasp tightened.

Closing the distance added detail to the figure—a violet-haired man rummaging through weapon storage, several swords and lances sticking out of a burlap sack at his feet.

Great, another scavenger.

The Monastery was undergoing a rejuvenation effort and was quickly regaining it's prestige in post-war Fodland, but that had not stopped a consistent flow of would-be looters from sneaking in and trying to make off with supplies or valuables.

Felix kicked a short axe from the man's hand, the metal clanging loudly against the tile floor. "You can't steal from her." His cheeks flushed at his threat, not realizing that he had subconsciously assigned possession of Garreg Mach to Byleth.

"From her, huh?" the scrounger parroted, standing to face him. "That's an odd choice of words, though you usually don't have many words to say, eh swordsman?" Purple eyes leveled with his as he punctuated his observation with a shrug.

Scoffing, Felix crossed his arms, trying his best to hide a wince as he brushed the stump of his wrist. "Do we know each other?"

"I'm a friend of your lover's, Yuri Leclerc, leader of the Abyss." Yuri leaned over, snatching the bag of weapons from the ground and slinging it over his shoulder. "We haven't met formally, but I see you skulking around the place from time to time. Usually, you're too absorbed in killing something to notice me or my digressions, though I suppose times change." His gaze wandered towards Felix's wound in unspoken acknowledgement.

He felt his face turn from discomfort to anger, his voice loud enough to echo in the emptiness of the space. "If you respect her then put them back!"

"Down, boy. I have permission from her holiness. Is that what you call her? Anyway, I don't bite the hand that feeds. Abyss was all but rubble in the war, we have Byleth's help in rebuilding it. If you think the scavengers up here are intolerable you should see the creatures that wander into my little haven. Always looking for some ancient artifact to fence or the like. Hence, the weapons." He sighed, rolling his eyes.

After an uncomfortable moment of silence Yuri reached down to grab the remaining arms – two Levin Swords and a Silver Bow. He fumbled with them for a second, shifting the weight but not finding comfort. "Listen, if you're going to pester me you might as well be of use. That hand still works, yeah?"