Fire Emblem: Crimson Flower

Prologue) Their Early Beginning

Artist: Official artwork from the game. As such, no person can be directly credited. 

In the hallowed, murky depths of the mountains residing in Fódlan, a rich stream of wind howled across the mist. As of now, many of the bandits that had previously raided the villages nearby had found refuge in these large bumps of the landscape. To them, it was the perfect escape. With nobody to hunt for them, they could take time to distribute their earnings, before travelling to pillage their next place of interest.

The screams of kidnapped children and women could be heard far across the mountain. To them, it seemed to be in vain, as with an abandoned landscape such as this, lay lost. As for what these prisoners could be used for - there were a variety of uses. Oftentimes, they would be abused, sold as slaves, or kept as a means to increase the workforce of the bandits. Eventually, to silence their screams, they were slowly picked off with spears one by one up until the screaming had ended. Body disposal was always a pain, though, so many of the bandits had preferred to avoid this method.

With several tents scattered across the urban landscape, the tallest one was reserved for the chief of their sinister group. He was a well-built man. Carelessness had caused his hair to go bald, and he had a distinct scar across his forehead. With his brawny hands and armed weaponry, he commanded his makeshift army of bandits with great verbal strength.

On this particular night, the group had earned a larger sum of money than they usually had gotten. After ransacking for beer in the neighbouring tavern, all of them sat, grouped together in a drunken state. These men who had sacrificed all humanity had found refuge from their responsibilities via taking a life of betrayal. With each tap of their cups of beer, they had lowered the chances of detecting an enemy. They did not care. For all they knew, there would simply be hikers of mild threat around them. They all kept away from them, anyway. There was no need for concern when they were such a large group.

Some time passed. In a daze, they began to take the path of a deep slumber. Before closing their eyes, though, footsteps were heard. Finally, a singular entity emerged. Once he made his cameo, every bandit had stopped their celebrations to focus on him. Some woke up, whilst some had drawn their weapons. The large campfire they were using was quickly lit by a wooden stick, which was then thrown at him in the hopes of getting the man to run away. He had deflected it with a shield. Before any of the bandits could make an attack on the man, the stick of fire was thrown back in their direction, and into the tents. A large flame burst forth, scaring some of those nearby. Now, everyone had their full attention on the upcoming visitor.

He was finally seen in full view. In recognition of the various scars layered across his body, almost every single bandit had grown fearful now. In an instant, almost all of them had started a mad dash to escape the fight that was to start. Screams were heard, weapons were thrown, people were hurt. Panic had ensued at such a quick rate, that nobody had time to notice the two young children emerging beside the man.

The two siblings looked towards the chaos. It was normal to them. On a weekly basis, they would often see various reactions to the sight of their father.

Sighing, the sister spoke, "they never seem to be scared of us," She pouted, taking out her sword. "Why is it that you always scare them off before you even do anything, Father?"

Patting her head, the older man spoke finally, "I guess I've already left my mark here in Fódlan. Nothing I can do about it, but it is a pain, sometimes."

"Whatever the case," the brother had finally decided to speak now, "I assume it is the same as usual. Shall we start?"

He was always ready to dive straight into his work. The father smirked, finding his manner of expression funny. "You know the drill. You two scamper about and pick off the deserters. I'll go see their head honcho."