Fire Emblem: Last of the Manakete

"It doesn't take a hero to order men into battle. It takes a hero to be one of those men who goes into battle."


"You four, with me," you say, picking out the four most nervous-looking recruits with your eyes. You're confident in your ability to keep them motivated, and you can cycle them back into the group once they've gotten a taste of winning for once. "We're gonna go smash that group over there. The rest of you, hold off the other four."

"But-"

"You don't have to beat them, not yet," you interrupt smoothly: there is no room for doubt in this moment. "You just have to keep them from stabbing us in the back like the cowards they are. Your main goal is to keep them back, but don't risk your own necks to do this: at the end, I want everyone standing to celebrate. Understood?"

The recruits all glance at each other, but finally, finally you see that tiny, newly-grown shoot of hope poking from the soil of beaten despair. "If you say so," one of them says.

You slap him on the shoulder. "If we say so, buddy. I'm gonna be standing right there with you all. Now, let's go show these bullies what happens when they actually let you have even ground to stand on!"

A ragged cheer rose from your men as they took their positions: you on the left with your "battalion," the others clustered slightly off to the right.
Claire looks between the two groups, still glaring. "I will remind you all once again, this is to be an honorable spar," she says icily. "If someone goes down or yields, you let them back off, understood?" Her eyes sweep Fox and his men as she says this, and they all grudgingly nod and mutter their agreement.

With a final sigh, she steps back. "Alright, let's get this over with."

ROUND 1

As soon as she's out of the way, you lead your group forwards with a whoop: more to inspire confidence than any particular joy. Well, mostly. Okay, fine you're ecstatic you're going to get to whack some bullies: you always hated when people who were bigger or stronger than others used that power to force everyone else down. Faintly, you hear the other group of your recruits moving forwards, but you can't spare them a glance right now; they will have to hold on their own.

After all, there are four trained, experienced soldiers right in front of you, spears up, shields readied.


Thankfully, it seems that their experience has been dulled somewhat by overconfidence. They've clearly been beating up on these recruits for weeks if not months, and they're expecting everything to go just the same again. Their movements are slower, more exaggerated. If you'd been in a charitable mood, you'd think they were deliberately holding back to give their charges a chance, but you see the cruel smirks on their faces.

The frustrating thing is that it somewhat works. Your four followers stutter in their steps, and you don't even have to look to see the intimidated looks on their faces. They don't want to get beaten up again.

Well, time to give them a show to show everyone that things are gonna be different this time.

While everyone else hesitates for one reason or another, you act. Darting diagonally to your left to clear some space, you jab your spear at the man on the extreme right of the enemy formation. He moves his shield, but it's a lazy move, allowing you to easily redirect your jab into his knee, causing it to buckle. Then, while he's off-balance, you slam into him with full momentum and shield first, sending him flying back to the ground.

Then, before his buddy can even start to turn, you spin your spear around, using the haft to whack him on the back of the legs, knocking him to his knees. Then, before he can get up, you conk him on the padded helmet with your shield before giving him a "killing" stab on the side of his neck.

"Dead," you say simply, before tensing as you hear footsteps behind you. Spinning, you bring your shield up to bat away the first man's spear, since he'd gotten up far faster than you anticipated. However, his clumsy, angry charge had left him way open, and you jab him in the stomach.

"Dead in a few hours, unless you get to a healer," you say.

Despite their deceased status, both men lunge at you again. Rolling your eyes, you slide to one side, using your spear haft to smack both of them on the back of the head as they stumble past, sending them to the ground. This time, they're smart (or stunned) enough not to get up.

"Undead and re-dead."

Glancing over, you see that the other six people in this fight aren't doing much fighting. It looked like one of the soldiers and recruits had been stabbing at each other, but at the moment they're all just gawking at you.

"What? Never seen a champion fight before?" you ask, giving a savage grin to the two soldiers, who finally, finally look worried.

As you do, you spare a glance towards the other fight, to make sure the rest of your charges are doing alright.


They're doing okay. It's clear that they're retreating more than being pushed back, but so long as they're keeping the enemy busy and not getting hurt in the process, that's fine. Then, to your immense pride, as one of the soldiers gives a wide, obvious swing, one of the recruits is able to block it with his shield before retaliating with a jab that catches the opponent on his hip, causing him to give a curse.

Unfortunately, this, along with the glances they're giving you and your team, make you think that they're going to start taking this fight seriously now.

You consider trying to switch some members between your battalion and the other group, to make sure every recruit gets the full experience, but you decide against it. The few moments of shuffling would weaken your positions too much. While this was officially a training spar, you wanted your recruits to win, and you wanted them to be able to fully appreciate it. Best to keep things as they are for now; find a better moment to shuffle people around.

You also notice both Fox and Claire staring at you. Fox with a calculating expression, Claire with an oddly blank one. You consider trying to figure that out, but the moment of seemingly frozen time ends and your back in the battle.

ROUND 2


The remaining two soldiers lunge forward, both going for you. However, as you start to move defensively, your four recruits charge forwards with far more savage cries than before, forcing one of the soldiers to reel back and away from you, pursued by the furious recruits.

One on one, this isn't even a real fight. However trained these men are, it's clear they lack the combat instinct that had let you survive the battles you'd fought with the bandits around Miau. The battles that had claimed too many lives, including your father's, had made you strong, made you fast, made you skilled.

The enemy's stab glances off your shield, your own more accurate stab causing him to stumble back. Stepping to his unshielded side, you give three quick jabs, forcing him further back step by step. Then, as his foot caught on one of the slightly uneven flagstones, you shorten your grip and step in, past the "point" of his spear and jab yours into his armpit before kneeing him between the legs.

Hey, girls aren't the only ones who can do that, and in a fight, almost anything goes.

As the man falls, groaning, you look over to see how your troop is doing. In this case, it seems numbers were the deciding factor, as the last soldier from this group is on the ground, his spear rolling away as the four recruits surround him and keep stabbing and whacking, long after the man had curled up in a ball and started trying to cover his head with his shield, weakly crying that he yielded.

"Enough!" you snap, striding over and grabbing the haft of the spear one recruit was raising over his head like a club. "He's down, let's move!"

The four recruits turn to you, and you almost flinch at the furious, near murderous looks in their eyes. "He'd have done it to us!" one of them snarls. "Has done it to us! Micha couldn't walk for a week after-"

"It was wrong when they did it to you, and it's wrong when you do it to them!" you shoot back, pushing yourself to stand over the downed soldier. "You're training to be soldiers, not thugs. That means more than just knowing how to fight, it means having the discipline to stop fighting. Don't sink to their level!" You nod past the recruits. "Besides, our teammates need us, let's move!"


It's clear that, despite their courage in standing and fighting even after the countless batterings they'd taken, these six men had nearly given all they could give. One was limping slightly, being covered by two of his compatriots as the soldiers advanced with purpose. Any attempts to jab at them were batted aside, and only the newly-acquired shields were keeping them somewhat uninjured. They were not going to win this fight.

Thankfully, they'd never had too. All they'd had to do was hold, and they'd held long enough.

"You did great, guys," you call as you push past your own battalion, not saying another word to them. However, you hold your breath for an instant… one, two, three, four sets of footsteps follow a moment later. You let out a soft sigh of relief: you know firsthand how easy it is to fall into battle-rage so deeply that you can't get back out. These recruits, no matter how angry, had passed that test.

Now, to focus on winning this once and for all and showing these castle-folk what real training could accomplish!

ROUND 3: INTERRUPT!

"Wait!"

Everyone freezes as Fox's voice cuts in. You and your four had just joined with the six recruits that had valiantly held off four trained soldiers, but you realize that you hadn't noticed Fox moving to join the fight as well. Eleven men glare at five, with Claire in the background, chaperoning the defeated members of the first group as she continues to study you with that strange, blank expression.

"You've made your point, boy," Fox says, glaring at you. "You've shown that even mice can beat cats if they have the numbers. Why don't we settle this the way we should have before: you and me, one on one?" His eyes sweep the recruits. "Don't think I haven't noticed you trying to keep them from getting hurt. Are you willing to take the hits without a mob to back you up?"

Your eyes narrow as you open your mouth and-

[] Accept his challenge: "I'm not afraid of you, Fox. Face me!"
[] Refuse his challenge "Here I thought this was a training exercise. These guys are doing well, are you gonna steal the win they've earned from them?"

AN: System seems to be working so far. It certainly gives me some ideas when writing by showing who specifically is doing well in a fight and who's not.