Invisible Ties | Fire Emblem Awakening (Novelization)

Chapter 9: Two Falchions

Robin

When Flavia had said the next tournament was nigh, she'd meant in a few hours' time.

That evening, I found myself standing at the edge of Arena Ferox, sword in hand. We certainly would not gain our alliance by breaking the rules of the tournament and rushing in to save our prince, but none of us cared. We would sooner lose the support of Regna Ferox than have Chrom be hacked to bloody pieces.

Granted, when I had asked, it was not mandatory to fight to the death. But it was not outlawed.

The other Shepherds were standing behind us, their weapons also drawn, but they were much more interested in trying to yell themselves hoarse over the deafening roar of the crowd that was seated above.

I was glad that the people were contained behind a large, golden wall that ran all the way around the arena. It had been a nightmare to hold our positions when they'd been shoving their way through the arches and up the sets of stairs beyond them, and I could not imagine the chaos if they'd been on the floor with us. The turnout was so incredible that it was almost impossible to see the very back rows. The Feroxi certainly liked their tournaments, and this would be the biggest one for years to come.

No pressure, Chrom.

Our captain was standing at the fringes of the elaborate mosaic that adorned the centre of the arena's floor. He was smiling at the Shepherds, but I could tell that his mind was far from us. His eyes kept darting to the opposite end of the arena, where his opponent would be waiting in the shadows.

The more I watched him fade away from us and focus on the upcoming fight, the more anxious I became. Looking away and catching sight of the crowd again made me feel no better. If the Feroxi army was anywhere near as big as the people who came here for entertainment, I imagined that they would be unstoppable.

Clang.

The crowd instantly fell silent; a hurricane of sound abruptly dropping to even less than a gentle breeze.

Chrom walked towards the centre of the arena. My heart thundered in my ears.

The shadows rippled, and Chrom's opponent started to mirror his movements. The tension from the Shepherds was palpable as they all snapped to attention. I felt it settle on my shoulders like a heavy set of weights and tighten around my neck.

Chrom came to a halt on the golden rays of an intricate sun. One second passed. Two.

Then another set of feet was finally visible on the opposite side of the painted ball of light. I followed them all the way up to a navy cloak, a golden headband, electric blue hair.

Marth.

There was a collective gasp from all of us, and a growl from Chrom. It was impossible to tell if Marth was surprised. Neither side was allowed to know who their opponent was until they met at this moment, but it still felt like a stab to the heart. We had last seen Marth in Ylisse, and that was where Ylisseans – even travellers – usually stayed. What was he doing in Regna Ferox now, helping the West-Khan to maintain his power?

Chrom's eyes narrowed, and he reached for his sword. Marth drew his at the same moment. Two blades suddenly appeared in the middle of the arena with a flourish, the silver glinting in the light of the flaming lamps that hung from the walls. Chrom and Marth's hands were both wrapped around red leather hilts that ended in golden pommels. They both had a hollowed-out tear shape at their base and a fat strip of gold on each side.

They both wielded Falchions, yet there was only supposed to be one divine blade in existence.

The knife of betrayal dove deeper. Marth must have known we would be here – but how could he have known? We hadn't even been aware of this tournament until a few hours ago. Yet here he was, wielding a model of Falchion in mockery, and it seemed to match Chrom's blade right down to the finest detail. It would have taken incredible craftsmanship and a lot of time to make it. More time than Marth had known us for.