X-X-X-Author's notes, READ THIS FIRST-X-X-X

Hey, everybody! Welcome to Gunlord's newest multi-chapter fic, The Last Red Shoulder. Before we start, though, I gotta give you some disclaimers which are very important, so please read this!

A: This is a sidestory to my main fic, Wayward Son. It takes place just after the conclusion to the main plot of the first 40 chappies, where the Big Bad (such as he was) is defeated. So, this is very important, THERE ARE HUGE SPOILERS FOR WAYWARD SON! If you've already read it, that's great, if you don't want to read it and don't care about it, you probably don't care about getting spoiled, so feel free to read this. Though if you don't like WS you almost certainly won't like this either, and indeed, this story isn't really stand-alone; it will make almost no sense if you haven't read Wayward Son. But if you haven't read WS and care about spoilers, please turn back now!

B: This story will likely be even darker than Wayward Son, which wasn't exactly fun times to begin with! It will definitely earn its M rating, so if you're too young to be reading this, pleeeeease turn back now. There'll be a lot of violence and perhaps some sex in future chapters. Please don't read if you're not old enough for that sort of thing. Also, just as a random note, virtually the entire cast is OCs. Aside from the introduction, and maybe a lil sumthin else, every character here is my own creation, since this story takes place in the early 700s, 300 years before FE7 and 6 (980 and 1000 A.S). I'll explain why that is later.

C: While I'm sure most of the folks reading this will be fans of Wayward Son or my friends, just in case I attract any unfriendly attention: This fic was designed to fill in a hole/tie up some loose ends at the conclusion of the first half of Wayward Son. Yes, yes, I know many people around here loath original characters, or at least OC centric stories, which this obviously is. I'm not writing this to anger you or any faction/group/clique (whichever word you prefer, any are accurate) you're a part of. I had a whole bunch of notes I didn't end up using and didn't want them to go to waste, so I turned them into this fic. This fic will certainly be muuuuch shorter than Wayward Son, which is coming along well. In fact, I actually don't intend to stay in the FE fandom indefinitely, there are only a few more pieces I wanna publish before moving on:

1: Wayward Son (making very good progress on this, should be done by the middle of next year, or in early 2015 AT THE LATEST)

2: Finish up "A Puppet's History." I hate leaving things undone.

3: There's a short FE4 thing I have notes for and want to finish. I can do that whenever, itll take me a week to put it out. 5 chapters at most, prolly a one shot.

4: The Last Red Shoulder, which you're reading now and will hopefully stop reading by the end of this disclaimer.

5: A followup to The Last Red Shoulder featuring one of the side characters, which will also be shorter.

6: MAYBE a fun Archanea multi-chapter fic, but that's only for me to blow off steam if I want it.

7: Any small assorted requests and one-shots I have to do for Secret Santa or what have you.

There you have it. The only really big thing in this list is Wayward Son, I should be able to finish everything else within a year and a half AT MOST. It ought to be very easy for you to just ignore those fics and leave me in peace. Additionally, any of my (self-proclaimed, since this sort of stuff isn't fit for me to take seriously) e-nemies who want me to GTFO Fire Emblem can take solace in knowing I'll be outta here in no more than 2 years, probably less. I leave you alone, please leave me alone.

4: Phew! Sorry for that weird-ass disclaimer, brothers and sisters. I'll probably be putting it up on all the fics I publish from here on out. But yeah, it's true, these are pretty much the last few stories I'm gonna put up in the Fire Emblem section. Again, aside from requests, I think they encapsulate pretty much everything I want to say and do as a Fire Emblem writer. But enough about that, lemme tell you about TLRS! First off, the name (and the image) comes from an Armored Trooper VOTOMS OVA xD More importantly, and spoilers for those who haven't finished Wayward Son, in chapter 38 Paptimus mentions his defeated rebel forces, most notably his elite Red Shoulders, are fleeing to the Western Isles. Originally, there was supposed to be a whole nother plot arc where Renault and his comrades pursued Paptimus all through the Western Isles, and Braddock would actually die at chapter 60, during a battle at Mount Ebrakhm. I thought the fic was going on too long so I cut out a LOT of stuff to have the 'finale' of book I be at chapter 40 instead. But as I said above, I still had a lot of notes for those 20 cut chapters, and more importantly, I'm sure my readers were all wondering what happened to those Red Shoulders anyway. After all, as we know, the Isles are solidly in Etrurian hands by the time of FE6. How'd they get there? Well, now you'll finally get to hear of a tale which has been too long untold. Read on, my friends, read on…

The Last Red Shoulder

Chapter 1: Beginning of a Tale Untold

1001 years after the Scouring…

The courtyard of Castle Pherae was truly a lovely place, especially on a summer afternoon such as this. While the strong stone walls overhead would ward off invaders quite well in times of war, the interior itself was unmistakably possessed of a beauty to be enjoyed in peace. Tall, healthy oaks provided shade when necessary and nesting places for birds constantly, providing an avian symphony which made music far superior to the songs of even the greatest Bards. The soft green grass below them was dotted with patches of blue, purple, and gold—many different species of flower which had been permitted to seed where the wind took them, providing an effect which exceeded any design a human gardener could have come up with. A series of stone benches had been installed all around this scenic courtyard specifically so the lords of the castle (and their visitors) could enjoy the delights Lycia's climate afforded. And indeed, this was precisely what two young men sitting on the easternmost bench were doing right now.

The red-haired youth smiled at his taller, slightly older, and much paler blond-haired companion sitting to his left. "That's a very nice song, Elphin. Did you compose it yourself?"

Elphin smiled back. "You flatter me, Roy. I may be a good singer, but my skills as a composer leave something to be desired. No, that song has been very popular in my country for nearly three hundred years now. I'm not sure who first sang it—Liam of Caerleon, likely—but there's a reason it's survived for so long."

"Definitely. What a catchy tune! Just the sort of thing I needed today." Roy was not exaggerating. Though he was well-suited to the duties expected of an heir to a Lycian canton (and the great hero of an entire continent), even he couldn't deal with affairs of state indefinitely. Thus, he had decided to take the afternoon off. When he'd heard that a certain Etrurian Bard was visiting his hometown for a short while, he knew that he'd be able to have an even easier time relaxing with the musician's company, especially since they could finally enjoy a bit of friendly conversation together. They'd never had a chance for that while the war was going on. "Elphin—er, Mildain, do you think you could play it again?"

His friend laughed. "I'd be happy to—under one condition."

"What is it?"

"Call me Elphin. My father and the people of Etruria know I'm alive, and setting their hearts at ease is good enough for me. At the moment, though, I think I prefer being a Bard to a Prince."

"Alright, I understand…Elphin."

The Bard smiled…then fulfilled his friend's request. He picked up the small but exquisitely-crafted harp he had set on the bench next to him and began to play it with a master's skill. The tune of the song was quick, hearty, and upbeat, well suited to the tale of heroic deeds his sweet, lilting voice proceeded to recount:

"There once was a man of spirit unmatched

His heart, brave and bold

The betrayers plotted, the sorcerers cursed,

But ever did his courage hold.

From Caerleon he hailed, to Great Galahad he bowed,

For crushing the shadows he could be forever proud.

But good is ever allowed little rest-

The shadow still lived, fled to the West.

On the Isles would Khyron remain

'till Peace and Justice began their reign."

With a deep breath, Elphin laid down his harp and again smiled at Roy, who was clapping cheerfully with an equally pleased expression on his face.

"Great singing, Elphin. Boy, if I had a voice half as good as yours, Lilina would be a much happier woman…"

The Bard couldn't help but laugh at this. "Well, Lord Roy, I'm sure your other qualities keep her very satisfied."

"You could say that." The two of them shared a good-natured chuckle. "Still," Roy continued, his smile turning to a more pensive expression, "Lord Khyron was a great man, wasn't he? If he had only been allowed to accomplish more in the Western Isles while he had the chance, I wonder if you and I might have been spared all the trouble we went through over there."

"Indeed," replied Elphin, unable to hide his slight surprise. "You are familiar with Khyron's exploits?"

"Yes. General Cecilia briefed me on the history of Etruria and the Western Isles before our expedition began."

"Really? Well then, what can you tell me about the subject? Show me you've taken my Mage General's lessons to heart!"

"Hey, I thought I was supposed to be relaxing! But alright, I'll humor you. Consider it your payment for those songs, Mr. Wandering Minstrel!

"Just about three hundred years ago, during the reign of Galahad the Weak, there was a great uprising in Etruria. Galahad's prime minister, a man named Paptimus of Scirocco, managed to amass a "Revolutionary Army" of hired mercenaries and dark magic users right under the King's nose, then led about a third of Etruria's people, especially those in the north, in open rebellion. He slew the Mage General, Exedol of Caerleon, in single combat and managed to capture almost all of Etruria before being stopped at the very gates of the Holy Royal Palace in Aquleia.

"The King's forces had been saved by the timely intervention of a foreigner—a Lycian—with an almost superhuman aptitude for tactics and strategy. This man, Henken, was titled "Great General" and won victory after victory against the Rebel forces, managing to push them back almost all the way to where they had started. But at the very height of his success, Paptimus assassinated him.

"It seemed as if all was lost for the King's men—but three heroes rose up to take the Lycian's place. The first was an old Cavalier named Gafgarion, unequalled in his command of mounted troops. The second was a steel-hearted Knight named Jerid, who had been Henken's right hand. And the last was Exedol's younger brother—Khyron of Caerleon. These three men became the Knight General, Great General, and Mage General of Aquleia, thus setting the foundation for Etruria's military and political structure which lasted until the Great Movement of Bern. Never again would so much power be concentrated in a single Prime Minister—his voice would always be weighed against those of the Three Generals." Roy's face grew somber. "At least, that was how it was supposed to work. It didn't stop Arcard and Roartz, though."

"Indeed," said Elphin quietly.

"But where was I? Anyways, these three men managed to rally their troops and finish what Henken had started. Fighting with all their strength, they managed to capture the last Rebel stronghold and kill Paptimus by the end of the year 703. And so the First Civil War came to an end, and Etruria knew lasting peace and prosperity until its Second Civil War just a few years ago, during Bern's war of aggression."

"Exactly right, Roy. Paptimus and his dark magicians were the "betrayers" and "sorcerers" the song mentioned. But it mentions the Western Isles, too. What do you know of that history?"

"Well…from what Cecilia told me, and from what I've read, it seems that even though the rebellion was over, not all the rebels were dead. Before he died, Paptimus had his most elite and loyal soldiers, called the Red Shoulders for their black armor and red pauldrons, flee from Etruria to the Western Isles so they could continue the fight. The Three Generals knew that they couldn't allow those villains to simply do as they pleased—but they also had to deal with rebuilding their own country; much of Etruria had been demolished by the war. So Great General Jerid stayed on the mainland to oversee reconstruction, while Khyron and Gafgarion's successor, a brave and spirited young knight named Wayland, were sent to the Western Isles in order to bring the remaining rebels to justice.

"There…" Roy's face scrunched up in a bit of confusion. "Well, Cecilia didn't really go into much detail. She just told me the basics. The Red Shoulders were commanded by two men named Oldnar and Trunicht, and allied with Bern, who wanted to colonize the Western Isles and take their mineral resources before Etruria could. However, Oldnar and Trunicht betrayed the Red Shoulders and revealed all of their hiding places and battle plans to Khyron, allowing him to sunder their alliance with Bern, liberate the clans of the Isles from their grasp, and exterminate them down to the very last man. That last Red Shoulder tried to unleash a horrible curse which would have ended all life on Elibe, but Khyron, wielding the Forblaze tome and assisted by Wayland and the Church of Elimine, managed to stop him at Mount Ebrakhm. This was how the Isles came under Etrurian control, and why Khyron and Wayland are known as heroes all over Elibe."

Elphin nodded. "Very good, Lord Roy. You are a most astute student. I'll be sure to tell Cecilia of this the next time I see her. She'll be very pleased."

"Really? I'm glad to hear that."

"Yes indeed. You've learned what the history books teach very well." Strangely enough, however, his expression became dark rather than cheerful. "You also know, of course, that what's written in the books isn't necessarily the whole truth…"

"Huh?"

"What you read…and what Cecilia told you…isn't entirely accurate."

"Elphin, what do you mean? Why would Cecilia…"

"It wasn't due to malice, Roy. She believed everything she taught you. Back during the war, I would have told you the same thing. None of us knew any better. Here, let me ask you a question. How do we know what we do about the struggle for the Western Isles…the War in the Mist, as they called it?"

"That…that's a good question. I know that Khyron and Wayland never published any memoirs about their experiences there, even though that's how they earned their fame. The best history of that era was written by a wandering preacher…I think his name was Serapino. I picked it up last year, actually—I wanted to learn more about the land I'd fought so hard to free. I remember it had a very strange dedication. "For the people of Etruria, for the people of the Western Isles, and for all the heroes and victims with whom this truth is buried." That's what it said."

"I never knew what those words meant until last year," said the prince. "But now…now I think I understand."

"I want to understand them too, Elphin."

"The Holy Royal Palace of Etruria has a great library, Lord Roy. You can find almost any book which has ever been published anywhere on Elibe in there. But there's a small room in the lowest floor—very easy to miss. The guards there won't let anyone in unless they're a member of the Royal Family. Not even the Three Generals are allowed to enter.

"Before I revealed myself to the public three months after the war, I visited that library on a whim, in secret. And there I found four interesting books.

"The first was Khyron Caerleon's personal deposition of everything that had happened on the Western Isles—eight hundred pages long, all hand-written.

"The second was an old journal taken from Lord Murdock's personal library when our forces ransacked Castle Bern. It was the three-hundred-year old personal journal of one of his predecessors—the Wyvern General Zedal Gustav, who took the position in 703 and served till he died in the Isles.

"The third was the journal of one of the most influential holy men who ever lived—Archbishop Gosterro, who was the head of the Supreme Church and leader of Eliminism during the First Civil War.

"And lastly…the forth book was the personal journal of a man named Kain."

"Kain? I remember that name…" A spark of recognition lit in Roy's eyes. "That was the name of the last Red Shoulder Khyron fought!"

"You are correct."

Elphin turned to look at Roy face-to-face, his eyes wide open for the first time the Pheraen could remember. "Let me tell you what that journal contained, Roy. Let me tell you what truly happened in the Western Isles, three hundred years ago. And then…then you'll finally understand the true depth of my country's sins."

Roy definitely wasn't expecting this. But he didn't back down from Elphin's challenge, either. With the same determination in his blue eyes he'd shown all throughout the Great Movement of Bern, he simply nodded for Elphin to begin his tale.

And so he did.

::Linear Notes::

Hope this gotcha imterested, my friends! Just as a note, Kain is completely unrelated to the Archanean character, I just like the name. You'll learn more about him, Gustav, and Oldnar in future chapters :D