Indignation is a Fire Emblem Roleplay. It takes place within the Outrealms as worlds collide and kingdoms wage an endless war. However, amongst the quarrels of men do the horrors of the Outrealm reach in to kill and destroy. Fight alone or join forces with other warriors as we create dramatic tales or wage war!
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The streets of Marcarth were quiet for thr most part. The early days traffic had begun to decline as the sun sank lower behind the stone buildings. The only noise on the streets came from the lone elf and vendor who were fighting over prices in the square.
"That's ten gold higher than it was a few days ago." The woman commented. The debate had been over the empty bottles her parents needed for their medicines. Lydia knew exactly what the sudden increase had been over.
"I have other customers you know," the man would always say. "More important customers." More important, her ass. More human was more like it. The Chants had grown to be some of Marcarth's most promising doctors. Everybody knew it, but some people couldn't see past... Lydia bit her tongue. It was a crime to keep raising the prices on her like this. But there was no other option. He knew it and so did she. The woman opened her pouch and threw the gold at the man. The greedy dastard swiped it up like a hungry wolf, examined every piece of it.
She was given twenty glass bottles which was loaded up into her hand cart. Most bottles had their imperfections. Saved the best for his more important customers, thst man. Lydia sighed and pushed the cart before her. The jars in the hand cart clattered against one another as the wheels turned into various holes in the uneven stone road. At least she had gotten them this time.
“Men, keep marching! If you don’t have a death wish, move your damn legs while you still have them!”
From somewhere in the distance, came the sounds of desperate men with their captain’s stern voice serving as an accompaniment to the whole parade of despair. Those were the soldiers of the kingdom, tired and beaten, some of them barely able to walk, and even less fortunate had to be carried by their comrades.
It was a dire picture, but sadly not uncommon. Johann, his hopes of prolonged peace crushed by the harsh mistress called reality, was thrown into the worldwide crime called war and he hated every minute of it. Not a day ago, his men got into a brief skirmish with the soldiers of the opposing kingdom, and despite the fact of their victory, his squad could hardly be called victorious.
Too good many men have fallen. He mused to himself, letting the darkness spread inside his very core. To a leader like him, even a single less felt like the direst of hits. And for what reason? Resources? Lands? Human lives are worth more than that!
And then, finally, they have reached a city nearby. Johann never was a religious man, but the visage of this place seemed like a sign of gods’ grace upon the unfortunate souls of his men. As they passed through the gates, the cries of his squad resonated through the whole city
“Medic! We need a medic here!” Johann shouted at the townsfolk. “Quickly!” Then, his eyes fell on a young woman with a cart full of vials. He practically dashed to her, looking desperate. “You!” he said, pointing at her with a shaky arm. “I’ll pay you a good coin for those! Just…” he felt his breath hitch as his bruised ribs made themselves known. “… Help them!”
The commotion in the streets was drawing many civilians out of their homes. People watched while people with vulenarys made their way out into the streets.
Her eyes shot up at the call for a medic. The man who needed her seemed to have spotted her first. The visage of the man was that of one who had been weary from battle. He spoke with much fever and desperation. Lydia felt if she hadn't said something to the man that he would practically throw himself over the cart full of glass. There was a sense of urgency in this. Lydia rushed to the man's side and placed a hand upon his shoulder. "I must apologize sir, but all of these are empty." The jars had yet to be taken home and filled with her medicines. That, however, didn't mean Lydia would be powerless to help. She stood tall and gestured to a building just up the street. "My clinic is just up the street. Those who can make it should follow me. For those who cannot, I will have help sent out to carry them there."
The cart she had been pushing was long forgotten. Lydia had already approached another of the soldiers up front and helped to support him while she led the way. Her heal staff wouldn't be enough. "You there," she addressed the man who had called the others his men. This man could only be the captain of the crew. Her commanding tone had faded away, "your men will be in good hands."
The woman led the ones she could into the clinic and started to order others around. Other doctors had started to address the wounds of those in the most fatal of conditions. Lydia was determined. They would save this man's crew. And this man. Things picked up in that clinic. Overwhelmed, the woman's hair had fallen out of her braids as she hopped from person to person using her staff and magic to nullify the pain these men had.
No, was all the man could think once he heard those vials were empty. It was practically a miracle when the people with vulneraries appeared, and then, he actually listened to the words the girl before him said.
Johann could barely keep himself from falling apart, but his people needed a strong leader. As he obeyed every word of the healer, he also made sure to thank you as sincerely as he could. “Thanks,” he said tiredly, carrying one of his subordinates to the clinic. “I own you so much.”
Just when all the commotion was slowly dying down as the soldiers in critical conditions were picked up and carried to the hospital, Johann could finally take a good look at the maiden he was willing to call their savior.
To him, she was akin to a goddess of mercy that fell upon the earth to soothe the woes of the people. And the fact that she was an elf didn’t bother him one bit, despite some surprised or even troubled look some of his newest recruits gave her.
Then, after the final subordinates of his were put to rest, he decided to found and thank her personally. He stood tall, even though his body was practically screaming at him to stop and rest. Despite this, he still had to finish this task. It was his pride – however small it may be – speaking.
“You have my gratitude, milady,” he started. “If it wasn’t for you and your help, my men wouldn’t have survived the night.” Johann gritted his teeth in anger. No matter what anyone said, it was his fault. “We never expected to get attacked, so it took us by surprise. For now, we’ll stay here to rest and recuperate.”
He pulled out a small bag filled with golden coins – his personal funds. “Now, allow me to reward you. I don’t know how much you charge for your services, but no matter what, that'll never be enough to show my appreciation to you fully.”
Her eyes shifted downward at his words. War was a horrible thing. A sense of worry pricked at the back of her mind. If these men had come from battle, their enemies had to have been close. The bodies of soldiers both Nohr and enemy would be scattered upon the battlefield. The nurses of Markarth wouldn't have been none the wiser. There had been no word of a battle nearby. How far had these men traveled to get here now? How long had this man walked with his injured men?
Lydia couldn't help but admire the courage these men had. They pushed through the battlefield and walked on with that will to survive. She wondered how many of these had fought on the brink of death. These men walked on, marching in a path that some didn't choose. Others fighting for pride or honor, to show that they are worth something. She knew that feeling well.
"Sir," the woman pushed the bag of gold back towards the man. There was time for payment later. The infirmary had enough resources for these men for the time being. It was a significant sized group that came in. Their supplies would last for a few days tops. She would talk then. "Has anybody tended to your wounds yet?" The man's movements were not exactly easily made. A few others in the clinic had counted him to be on the bottom of the list in severity. Lydia half wondered if people had offered to help him only to be turned away to shift the focus on one of his other men.
The woman walked over to a bed. She pat on it lightly as a signal for him to sit upon it. "An army is only as strong as their captain," she said. "I'm sure your health is just as important to your men as theirs is to you."
“And what worth is a captain without an army,” he said as he plopped on the bed with a loud crack. In an instant, all those wounds he ignored for so long made themselves known. It’s a shame to dirty such a pristine bed with my blood, he thought to himself.
“I patched myself up a bit, but nothing more,” he said and started unbuttoning his shirt. There, the bandages wrapped across his stomach were soaked with blood. “Damn!” he cursed. It seems that his first aid was as half-assed as he expected it to be.
“It’s not bad as it looks,” he tried to bluff. “Hurts only when I laugh… or breathe.” His notorious sense of humor seemed to be entirely undamaged. Of course, a number of medics already tried to take care of only to be gently rebuked in favor of someone else. He... wasn’t really worth it.
“Hoshidan archers,” explained Johann. “They snipe out healers first.” He added through the ragged breaths. “As to cripple enemy forces. I should’ve expected this. What an idiot I was.” Honestly, he wanted to laugh at his misery. Damn them! And damn this blasted war, too!
“Sophia Blanche. Rupert Norden. Margaret. They were the first to fall. Good soldiers. All of them,” he added weakly. Maybe it was from all the blood he has lost, but Johann needed someone to tell this. Then, his eyes fell on the maiden, or to be more precise, her ears. He chuckled a bit, but it sounded hollow, defeated.
“She was one of yours, you know. Margaret, I mean. Enlisted once the war broke out. Said… said she wanted to show how much an elf can do. I remember looking into her big, round eyes and saying…”
“Oh, are those our new recruits?” Johann said, looking at the row of men and women in various states distress. All because of him. Well, mostly because they were ordered to show themselves in the middle of the night.
He looked at them, peering them in the eyes until he stopped next to probably the shortest girl he ever saw, her ears twitching as if telling him to bring it on. “Okay, fresh meat, listen up! In my squad, the rules are simple. Here they are: don’t die. That’s all!”
“… Don’t die. That’s all,” he said weakly. Sometimes, Johann hated his job. And sometimes, Johann really hated his damn job. “She was underage, too. Saw her transcripts. Clearly a forgery. Too young to go into battle. But we needed all healers we could get.” And then, he remembered her tiny body, lying on the ground, unmoving.
“Couldn’t even bury her body properly. Had to move… Before the others would kick the bucket,” he wanted to cry so much, but couldn’t. Not before this girl. Not before someone else. Johann hasn't cried for years now. “Damn this war…”
A hint of a smile appeared upon this woman's cheeks. Truly amazing was this man. Even soaked with his own blood, his concern had never shifted from that of his own men. “So, don't breathe,” she joked despite the circumstances, hoping the man would understand her dry sense of humor.
Lydia cut away the poorly applied bandages with her knife. The wound on his body had seeped them with blood. In the mess, she couldn't quite see the wound. “This might hurt,” she warned him before she took a wet rag to his wound in order to clean away some of the blood. Her fingers traced around the area. She saw little signs of infection, though the bones beneath didn't feel quite right. Lydia had a feeling he wouldn't be too happy with her cure for him. With a wound as severe as his, he had come all this way with his men. He had led them while he suffered in silence. A strong man indeed.
She offered him a drink to help numb the pain while she worked on the area. All the while, she had listened to him speaking. It was hard to hear. The realities of battle sunk in. Lydia had experienced battles first hand, but this was no normal battle.
There was a tightness in her chest as the man recounted his tale of the horrible ambush that he encountered on the battlefield. The woman could feel her body tense up. A sense of anger had washed over her. It was a cowardly action to take. It was an unfair fight. Soldiers would do anything it took to win. These people had names. They had friends and a family. No human was a pawn to be used in war. It was something many people forgot.
Or elf. The man's words hit her like a rushing wave. 'One of yours,' he said. The woman had died honorably upon the battlefield and he saw her as nothing more than an elf. No, Lydia shook her head at that. This man couldn't be like the rest of them. And he wasn't. Her eyes had begun to feel heavy. This man wanted to bury her. The young elven maiden named Margaret wouldn't soon be forgotten.
“How can a person put so little value on the life of another?” she asked. Her voice was quiet and her eyes had never left the man's side. Cleaned and stitched. There had been no sign that his broken rib had punctured anything. The area would be bruised for a while as the rib would mend itself.
Finally she looked up. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes at any moment. She offered the man her hand. “I'm no priestess, but would you like to pray for her with me?”
It wasn’t so bad. Johann wondered how horrible was his life if the pain he was feeling right now wasn’t the worst he experienced. He winced when the rag was brushed against his wounds. It wasn’t the first time, but he still didn’t feel that comfortable with pain, and he prayed to every god he could think of that this won’t become a habit.
“I appreciate this,” he said and took the drink offered by the girl. It helped him to dull the agony and for that, he never felt more grateful. In the past, it was always about toughing it out since the medicine was expensive and every coin was sent home to feed his sister another day.
“I’m no true believer either,” he admitted with a small smile and took her hand, “but I’d feel honored to.” Johan admitted to himself that this woman was perhaps one of the kindest people he ever met. In his youth, praying wasn’t something he enjoyed to do. It was what he was expected to do, but once his only family left this world, he had more urgent things.
Johann fell on his knees and repeated every name of the fallen, seven in total. “May the Gods grant rest to their souls.” Margaret, he remembered, always was the religious one, often called the squad’s chaplain as a joke between them all: being raised in an orphanage probably had a part in it, too.
“And grant us the strength to stop this horrible war,” he said in the end. Looking at his knees, he added something else. “I do not believe in the Gods. Never did. Not since my family was taken away from me,” he still had this sad smile on. “But she did. All of them did. And for this, I’m willing to pray.”
The woman opened her mouth in protest as the man moved. No sound came. She had thought to pray with him there within his bed, instead she moved to the floor beside him. Her hand remained in his. The woman didn't know these men or women that were named, but the moment itself finally brought the tears that had threatened so long to finally trail down her cheeks.
Religion was something she suggested to those who were suffering. Lydia rarely would speak of it otherwise. The beliefs of others within Nohr had been well adapted at a surface level to create a face while she and her parents still held true to their beliefs from home. She grabbed the man's hand tighter and continued on his prayer with a few words of her own. "May the protectors of all welcome the spirits of the men and women who have fallen in the fields of battle. Bring peace to the families of these men and women and may, someday by your will, we all be together once again."
She stayed on her knees in silence. Offering the time for them to be remembered. Her hand slipped from his and she rose. Lydia turned away and wiped at her eyes. It was a horrible weakness to feel for others.
“It is admirable: crying over the people you never knew isn’t something many people are capable of,” said Johann to the elven girl. If only his heart didn’t grow so cynical with time, he would have shed some tears as well. Yet, none came to him.
He picked himself up with a tired grunt, more tired than he was willing to admit. “I suppose you won’t agree to leave me in favor of someone else?” he chuckled slightly. His wounds were taken care of so far, but the damn ringing in his ears was still there.
“Johann Strauss. That’s my name,” he said. “I used to be an army captain, but since I clearly don’t have enough people to form a squad, I should better find another job to do.” He would have made a little bow, but Johann was pretty sure it would make his already dire situation worse. “I never caught your name, milady?”
“Captain!” shouted a burly man with a beard as he entered the room. A bandage wrapped around his right eye and patches of silver inside his brown hair, he looked ages older than he really was. “Captain Strauss!” said the man and sighed.
“Albrecht,” Johann acknowledged the man and ordered weakly. If he was there of all places, there was only a single reason for this. “Report.” It was time, once the dust of battle has finally settled, to see how bad things really were.
“In front of the long-ear?!” said Albrecht, looking at the healer with genuine astonishment mixed disgust. His wrinkled face scrunched in a horrible grimace. “You can’t be serious, sir?!” shouted the man. “She might be a damn Hoshido sympathizer for all know! All those elves are…”
“Enough, Albrecht!” Johann rebuked his harshly. “She is staying here and that’s final!” Albrecht, he knew, was a good-natured man once you got to knew him, if a bit old-fashioned. They served together for years, but such a blatant display of racism wasn’t something he was willing to allow on his watch. “If it wasn’t for her, I would have been dead already, sprawled over this very bed. Now, apologize.”
Was it really admirable to be crying over somebody she did not know? Perhaps that was a little much for Lydia to think. In a way she did know this woman. She would never know her personally, but something in how the man described Margaret reminded Lydia a little bit of herself. The elf would have done anything in her youth to prove that she should be given the same respect as others in Nohr. If that had come down to taking a job on the battlefield, then Lydia would have done it. It was a shame that loyalty was something she had to prove just because of the shape of her ears.
Now with a name for this man, the woman wasted no time on using it. “You may call me Lydia.” She moved beside him. There was a hopeful look about her as she spoke. “Captain Strauss, I am almost positive that your men are better off marching along side you in the field than at the command of someone who would idly sit behind them and give them orders.” From the story that he just told her and from what she had witness when he came into the town, Lydia knew that this was an honorable man. If everyone on the battlefield was like him, perhaps one day war would fade away. She knew it was impossible, yet, as a doctor it was her greatest hope.
The other soldier shot into the room so suddenly. It caught her off guard. The woman backed away from Johann and stood. She had been ready to go check on the others. While most had been sleeping, others would be alert and in need of strength through nourishment. The woman grabbed her staff to leave when the man's words hit her. Her eyes twitched, but the expression on her face remained as hard and unreadable as a stone.
Until the moment a smile came to her lips. It was always the best way to deal with this. Don't cry. Don't get mad. She learned that at a young age. If people saw her mad or upset it would show a weakness. The nurse crossed her hands in front of her. “It is true, Captain Strauss. I do sympathize with Hoshido. I could hardly call myself a doctor if I didn't. Nohr and Hoshido, they're both human lives that are being thrown away on the battlefield. If I can save an enemy soldier from death, I will. But my loyalty does lie with my homeland of Nohr. I will take any secrets of battle you have to my death.” She nodded her head towards Albrecht. “I understand your caution.”
“I do not,” said the captain harshly, “approve such an inappropriate conduct and expect you to apologize properly.” It was a bit painful, but he managed to pick himself up with a brief grunt of pain and sit on the bed. “And miss Lydia,” he added as an afterthought, “as much as I appreciate your dedication to this noble craft, do keep those sentiments silent. It might be some less forgiving next time for all we know.”
“Elves, sir,” said the bearded man with a harrumph, only to stop as his eyes caught a certain look from his superior. “But I suppose you aren’t that bad for a long-ear. The captain here doesn’t look like a corpse anymore.” It was roundabout and beyond condensing, but Johann supposed that was the best he could get out of the man.
Even Margaret was, by Albrecht’s own words, “the best damn elf he ever knew.” It was a barbaric view from barbaric times, but the man himself was a relic of older times. “I’m still waiting that report,” he added with a sigh.
“Sir,” said Albrecht. It was if he suddenly looked smaller, more fragile. “It’s really bad. Ignatius is dead and I don’t think Rodney would make it through the night.”
“A good man lost, then,” said Johann.
“Ignatius was an ass and we both know this,” Albrecht said with a wry smile. “But even an ass like him didn’t deserve to choke on his own blood.” He kept silent for a minute, thinking about something else. “Plus, we still aren’t sure if those arrows were poisoned. Just… let’s hope for the best.”
“And what about our provisions?” said the captain, trying to change the topic. It was so painful to sit here already; no use rubbing it in. “We still have a march ahead, don’t we?”
“Those are fine. As far as things go, we have enough to go from one side of the country to another,” Albrecht reported. “But soldiers need a break first. This battle wasn’t that good for their morale.”
“Hmm,” Johann muttered, “what do you think yourself?”
“Bloody hell, captain,” said the man. “I don’t have an idea whatsoever. I’ve sent a raven to the capital, but gods know when it’ll reach them. And worse, when the brass decides what to do next."
Perhaps she had spoken too much. The woman had been so set on showing this man how little her remark had gotten to her that she had forgotten she was in the presence of a Nohr officer. A small battalion of soldiers were in these walls, beaten by the very soldiers she had said she would protect. Maybe it hadn't been the best of times. These men had gone through much. The woman backed away from the men in order to be as least invasive as possible.
The report had been as grave as Lydia thought it would be. She watched as the men fought death as she tried to assist the others who were tending to them. In the end, they had succumbed to their injuries. Ignatius. Rodney. She would remember the second man's name. If she could do anything, perhaps she could help him. Or at least stay with him in his final moments.
She listened to them go on about moving out once again and their provisions. It was then that the woman decided to speak up. “Captain Strauss, sir. If I may, you and your men are not in the condition to move out. The blow to your ribs caused some nasty damage. It will take a few weeks for it to heal completely. And...” her face dropped at the other bit of grave news she had to remind the man of. “You have no healers. Should you your forces move now as is, you may as well be marching them to their death.”
The woman had no knowledge of how the military operated but there was one thing she did know. Marcarth. Her face lit up. Of course! “Spend some time here in Marcarth. We're known throughout the country for our medical prowess. Talk to the doctors. You might be able to recruit a few apprentices who would be willing to help out on the front lines.”
“I don’t think the army has any use for a bunch of civilians,” muttered Albrecht under his nose. If he really thought so or simply didn’t want to agree with the girl, Johann didn’t know for sure. It could be both with this man. “No matter how knowledgeable they are, all of them turn into a bunch of headless chickens the moment the battle breaks out.”
“It’s not like we all started out as soldiers, though.” Johann felt the bitterness spread over his body. It was never his choice to live his life like this, but things rarely went as he wanted them to. In fact, he was sure that most of the people under his care were conscripts or felt desperate enough to fight for food.
And those are dead now, he thought sadly. In the real battle, untrained and barely fed soldiers were the first to fall and only the most experienced ones remained – those used to the sight blood as if it was something ordinary.
“I appreciate your output, miss Lydia.” Johann said with a weak smile. “And I believe we all deserve some rest.” He started at the ceiling above with the look of wistfulness on his face, lost in thoughts. “A few weeks should be enough.”
“Like hell it is,” said Albrecht with a dry chuckle. “I may not be a healer, but the last time I saw you, you were barely able to stand, didn’t you?” Johann had nothing to say at this. I am that obvious, aren’t I? “Rest, captain. Unlike me and the old gang out there, you still have someone waiting for you back home.”
And then, he left. “This man will be the death of me,” Johann said and closed his eyes. “Marcarth, huh?” he added as an afterthought. “I suppose once I’ll be able to stand on my own, you’ll show me where the souvenir shop is? I’m not asking as a soldier, though.” The cushion, he admitted, felt incredibly soft. “Just as an older brother.”
Albrecht's words were something Lydia couldn't quite understand. The people in this city were practiced healers. They weren't going to run away at the first sight of blood. Most had seen the cruel causalities of battle. Her mouth opened as she was going to speak up in their defense, but it seemed Johann had already been sharing similar thoughts. Some of the greatest soldiers and strongest of men could start out as nothing but a farm hand - a normal civilian who got called off to war. Perhaps in the future she would try bringing it up again.
While the others conversed, Lydia had taken to cleaning the mess around the room. The instruments she used were wiped down then tossed into a bucket for a more in depth cleaning once she left the man. The two continued to converse with talk of rest and time away from the fight. Her eyes glanced towards the captain as the other spoke of his weakness. Albrecht was perceptive. Either that or he knew the man too well. It made the woman a tad curious of how long the two had traveled together. Lydia's short estimate had been to instill hope within the man. A hope that should exist within the man. The older man's words resonated within Lydia. Someone waiting back at home. A man with a woman had the world to fight for. It explained why the captain was so noble, so caring of his fellow officers. He understood what it was to love.
She had been going through the cabinets as the other man left. A small bottle of liquid was pulled out for the man. Lydia offered a nod to the older man as he departed from the room, and turned back to the captain with the item in hand. “I think the only souvenirs that you might find worthy here are salves and potions. Here take this. You might be numb from the pain now, but when it comes back, I suggest drinking it.” The small bottle was placed upon a nightstand beside him.
For that moment it had been quiet. Lydia took a seat upon the neighboring cot. “I can show you around town at least. The king does take up residence here occasionally. I don't get near his palace normally, but I'll walk you by it. You'll have something to tell your... younger sibling about when you get back to them.” It was probably wonderful to have somebody interested in hearing all about where you've been or what you've been doing. “Do you miss them?”
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