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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“Always,” he admitted honestly. “I became a mercenary to support my family at first,” Johann said and went on, recalling the events from his past. “I made enough for a nice house in the capital. I wanted to settle then, but my sister decided to learn the magic and that needed money, more than we had at the time.”
“I knew she always had a knack for magic,” he said with a hint of pride in his voice. “I also knew how unwilling she was to ask me.” Johann wasn’t half as perceptive as his sister, but even he was aware when she started acting in a strange manner as if trying to say something only to stop at the last minute.
“Therefore, I joined the army.” It wasn’t the most patriotic story of all, and he admitted this much. “The salary was good and,” he slumped a bit, “I never expected for a war to start like this. At most, I’d have manhandled a bunch of brigands, bandits or stood near the border and looked threatening.”
He looked at the tiny bottle on the nightstand. “But things seldom happen the way you want them to, no? I am pretty sure none of us expected to meet each other today,” he said. “Honestly, what an unfortunate time we were born into.”
For a few minutes, he remained silent. “I’m jealous of you, to be honest,” he blurted out suddenly. “I’m a soldier. It’s a war. People on both sides seal their ears with those words and blind their eyes with hate, so we could slaughter each other like it’s the most natural thing for us to do. And the more we hurt each other, the more we hate. I really despise it.”
Johann sighed heavily. “I’m not expected to think about this, just march into battle. Because they are the enemy and that’s all. But you,” he said, “despite everything, you’re willing to save everyone. And that’s what makes you human,” he admitted honestly. And that’s why I’m not. “Crying when you’re sad. Just helping someone because you can. Staying true to yourself. This is what makes a human. Not a pair of short ears or anything like that.”
And then, he peacefully drifted to sleep. “If there were more people like you, miss Lydia,” he muttered in a daze, “the world would have been such a peaceful place. And in such a peaceful place, there would be no need for people of my kind.”
Everything about his story was heartwarming. He had done so much for the happiness of his family and his little sister. It was unfortunate that the war had come when it had. Such a fine man had been dragged into the middle of all of this.
Their lives hadn't been too different. Johann had worked young to provide for his family. The nurse had been working ever since she could hold a shovel it seemed. The years upon the plantation were long. The sun beat upon her back and her hands often blistered and cracked. Her wages hadn't been remotely close to what they had been for the other workers. Her family needed the money. Studying medicine in Marcarth was never cheap. Not for the elves.
As the man before her was getting lulled to sleep by his sleepy tales, Lydia got up and walked to the lanterns. With a delicate breath of air the candles had been blown out, concealing a majority of the room in a darkness. Johann was wrong. Lydia's life was far from peaceful. She was there to help people so they didn't end up like her. From plantation to handmaid. She could still that man's voice call her from the fields that day. The woman's expression darkened with the room. It was a promotion that many could dream of. His daughter was a wonderful young woman and to this day remained one of Lydia's closest friends.
She lit a lantern and turned the flame low, it was left near the captain in the chance light would be needed in a hurry. With little thought she pulled the covers over Johann. “You give me too much credit,” the woman whispered. She stood by the door and looked at the man who spoke in drowsy tones. “my life is nothing to be jealous of.” She was stuck here in Marcarth with her past looming behind. The clinic, her parents shop, everything bought with money from that farm. A never ending harsh reminder of her past.
The elf slipped away. With her staff in hand, she returned to the group of men. Lydia looked down at the man named Rodney who lay in the bed. There was little hope for the man. Little hope meant nothing to Lydia. She spun the staff in her hand and with what little energy she had left, tried to heal the man.
“I strongly advise you to back the hell off, long-ears,” came a gruff, masculine voice from behind the nurse, the same voice as the one she heard in the tent not so long ago. It was Albrecht, the old man that now looked somber and not quite sober.
The soldier walked to the bed where his comrade’s body laid and pointed with a shaky finger. As gently as he could, he touched the bandages over the boy’s head. “I wasn’t completely honest with the good captain back then,” he said and plopped on an unoccupied bed with a sigh.
“It doesn’t matter if you restore his body. Rodney here got an ax straight to the head. Didn’t you, Rodney?” Sadly, the body sprawled on the bed had nothing to say. “He won’t wake up. And even if he does, it won’t be him anymore.” Albrecht brushed off his forehead with a great deal of care.
“For an elf, you did admirable work, but there’s no cure for the dead,” said the man. “The captain needed to rest, so I decided to sugar-coat it for him. As for poor Rodney,” he said and pulled one of the pillows, bringing it closer to the boy’s head. “The poor lad suffered quite enough, don’t you think? Or do elves consider mercy a sin, too?”
The voice behind her was the last she wanted to hear at that moment. Lydia turned around. On guard, her heart beat wildly in her chest. The captain wasn't here with his kind words to ease over the older soldier. She was fearful of Albrecht.
This man was right. The nurse glanced towards the boy who lay so still upon the bed. He really was just a breath away from his last. There was no guarantee that Rodney could be restored to his former self. With a blow to the head like that he could wake up as nothing more than a vegetable. It would be a life that he would never have asked for. Alive but not quite living. His body would simply exist in the world. At the sound of shuffling she watched the man pull the pillow from a bed. Mercy was what he called it. It made sense to put the man out of his misery. Lydia hadn't been without sin.
It nagged at the back of her mind even then. She couldn't let him do it. “It's not whether I am elf or human,” she said. The nurse made a grab for the pillow in the man's hand. At the moment, Rodney showed no signs of suffering. If he wasn't going to make it through the night then that would be on him. Lydia knew spells and words could only get her so far. It would take a miracle. “I will not allow you to kill this man. Sir Albrecht, you've had a long day. Please allow the rest of the staff here to watch over Sir Rodney.” She wondered if this man could feel guilt over the death of the younger officer, or if this was just another part of being in a war.
“I didn’t live my life so a filthy elf could tell me what to do,” said the man with an angry scowl. Then, his eyes moved from the girl back to the body of his fallen comrade. He carefully swept the boy’s bangs away with a trembling hand and sighed heavily. “But I see your point.”
He let the girl take the pillow without any noise and sat down on the bed. “And don’t you ever call me sir, elf,” Albrecht muttered. He hated being called that more than anything in this world. To him, “sirs” were the people that sat somewhere above the common men and ordered them around with a care.
“This boy,” he said suddenly, “was a simple villager. And his village was assaulted by bandits. Every month they would visit and take away their food or worse. And every time something like that happened, people died.” The man looked somewhere in the distance as if trying to discern a mirage. “Not because the bandits killed them, though. That would’ve been too merciful.”
“Have you ever been hungry, elf? The winters in Nohr aren’t merciful, and our lands are barely fertile enough to grow crops to survive. Quite a bleak picture, don’t you think?” he smiled at that and chuckled. It wasn’t a joyful sound at all. “I traded my pitchfork for a sword long time ago, though.”
“Me and the good old Strauss. The dastard decided to organize some kind of a neighborhood watch to ward off the brigands. At first, we were farmers with weapons. “When the danger goes down, we’ll go back to our peaceful lives.” That’s all of us thought at the time. Heh. What a bunch of fools we were.”
He turned his head to the girl and said sadly. “The captain never talks about his Pops. Probably because he doesn’t know what to say. Never got to meet the man himself. You know, hard to visit all those birthday parties when you’re dead,” he chuckled again as if trying to mask a sob. “But I did. That damn Strauss was the one to start the whole shebang. And he asked me to keep an eye on his first. So he won’t turn out like,” the old man gestured at himself, “us. Heh. Some kind of an oath keeper I am.”
There was a sigh of relief. The man seemed to calm down and perhaps was a little bit enlightened to Lydia's way of thinking about this situation. The woman took the pillow and returned it to the previous bed where it used to reside. Her hands ran over it as a way of distraction, keeping her from paying full attention to the man that spoke with her now.
Occasionally she would take a glance towards the boy who lay still in the bed. His past was a hard one. It was filled with difficulties that many and Nohr had come to know. She hadn't been certain whether Albrecht was looking for a reply from her or not. The odds were that he wasn't. Something told her that he wouldn't be interested in any sob story an elf had to say.
“You were a friend of his father's then?” she asked. She had gathered that they were from the same town, or at least close to it. The age difference was there. From the way it sounded they picked up their swords at the same time, even knew each other. A farmer, huh. She finally glanced over at the man and then thought back to the captain. It was hard to see the two as anything but a battle ready soldier. “I'm sure he really appreciates you being there to help. I may not know him too well, but even the brief time I have spoken with him, I really get the sense that Captain Strauss is a kind man.”
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