It's Fire Emblem like you've never seen it before... Set in a Western! ***** (As the Fire Emblem theme plays in the background, a red-hot branding iron burns the title of the story onto an aging map, which eventually dissolves into ash:) *** "Fire Emblem: The Burning Brand" by Avi Chapter 5: Across the Border The night passed in the old ghost town without incident, and by the next morning, Dorcas had rejoined Lyn's group. Then all together, they began the ride towards the border between the counties of Burnt and La Sienna. It won't be long before we cross into the next county, mused Mark, as they rode through a mountainous pass. Just as he thought that, Kent announced, "We're almost to La Sienna county, now." "Those bandits won't follow us across the border, will they?" asked Lyn, in concern. Wil shook his head. "I reckon not... The lawmen in La Sienna are pretty tough, when it comes to bandits; they won't want to mess with the law, 'round these parts." "You almost sound like you're from around here," observed Mark. Mark couldn't help notice that Wil looked uneasy at this comment, but was then distracted, as Sain rode up to them. "Ah, La Sienna... It's sure been a while!" sighed the cavalryman. "By this time tomorrow, we'll be in a real town, eatin' something other than field rations, for a change! And I've heard that there's the prettiest li'l singer, at the saloon just over the border..." Sain then shot Mark a sly wink. "Say, why don't you come along, city boy? You haven't really seen the West until you've seen our dancing girls!" Mark blushed. "Uh... I think I'll pass." Kent frowned at the other soldier. "Sain, if you're going to act that way, then I reckon we should just find another place to stay. After all, we're just passin' through." "But we've been ridin' for days, now!" protested Sain. "Don't we deserve to rest a spell?" "Staying in town will be fine, Kent," said Lyn. "Don't worry about it." Kent tipped his hat at her. "Whatever you say, ma'am." Sain gave Lyn a beatific gaze. "Truly, you're an angel from on high, Miss Lynette!" Lyn rolled her eyes. "Sain, please..." At this, the soldier looked sheepish. "Well, at least we will finally be able to sleep in a warm bed, si?" commented Florina. She glanced at Lyn as she said this, but the plainswoman wasn't paying attention... It was then that Mark noticed that Lyn seemed preoccupied, as she looked over her shoulder. "Oh dear... They just don't give up, do they?" she muttered, under her breath. Mark's eyes widened, at this. "Don't tell me... Those bandits have caught up to us again?" "Come on!" Lyn urged her horse to go faster, as the others followed her lead. "Maybe we can outrun them to the border!" "It's no use..." Wil pointed ahead of them, at a line of men blocking their path. "They've cut off our way out of the mountains... They've got us surrounded!" As Lyn's group clustered together, brandishing their weapons, the bandits began to advance on them, encircling the group. "Thought you folks could get away, did ya?" the lead bandit snarled at them. Lyn urged her horse forward. "Listen, we have no quarrel with you," she told him. "Just let us pass!" The bandit shook his head. "Uh-uh, lady. You're the folks that killed Miguel and Carija, and we just can't let that slide... Nobody messes with the Gatlin Gang and lives to tell about it!" He made a gesture, and the gang of bandits started to close in on Lyn's group, in a ominous fashion. *** Meanwhile, not far away, the gunman known as Erk Horn rode in silence, letting his horse plod slowly through the wilderness. He was a stoic man by nature, but he was even more so now, than usual... Though that might have been due to the nature of his travelling companion. "I do declare, you are the worst escort it has ever been my misfortune to encounter!" exclaimed a petulant female voice behind him. "Are we lost again?" Erk sighed heavily to himself. "Ma'am, you chose this path," he pointed out. "My dear sir, I'm sure I would've picked the correct path, and not have misled us..." The gunman found himself once again cursing the fate that had brought him to this time and place... He would still have been in Atlas Ridge, probably continuing his own studies, had not the Marshall of that county taken him aside, to have a word with him. "Listen, Erk..." the Marshall had told him, frankly. "You have a gift; that of incredible marksmanship. You can't let it go to waste around here; you've got to go out there and use it, to protect the weak and the innocent... Do you understand me?" Erk owed a lot to the Marshall and his wife, so he respected the man's words, and set off into the world... But Erk highly suspected that when the man had told him to 'protect the weak and innocent', he would not have counted on meeting Sister Serra. The aforementioned nun rode on a mule a few paces behind Erk, a choice of mount that the sister had not been pleased about; however, it was the only mount with an even enough temper to put up with its rider. Erk found it rather appropriate for her, actually... Though he would normally never say so aloud. However, after several seemingly-neverending days of riding in the company of the nun, the gunman's temper was wearing thin... And he now felt that he had held his tongue long enough. "Look, lady..." began Erk, behind gritted teeth, "When I took this job, they didn't tell me nothin' about you..." Serra's eyes narrowed. "What do mean by that, sir?" "I was told that I was hired to protect a sister of St. Elimine," he explained. "And I am that sister," sniffed the nun, fanning herself haughtily with her prayerbook. "And as you well know, I am nothing but a helpless Southern belle..." "Helpless? You?" Erk snorted. "Lady, you don't need no protection from me... Any outlaw who'd spend five minutes in your company would gladly turn himself in for the reward money!" The gunman's voice then softened, and turned pleading. "Listen, ma'am... We ain't that far from Austin City, now. Couldn't you just ride there the rest of the way, by yourself? I'll even give you back the money you paid me!" The nun set her jaw. "My dear sir, I'll have you know that I am a Hollingsworth... And no Hollingsworth lady would be caught dead without a male escort! Besides, you just happen to be presentable enough to be a suitable travelling companion, Mr. Horn, despite how boorish and ill-mannered you truly are..." "Hmph. I could say the same thing about you, lady," grumbled Erk, under his breath. "What was that, Mr. Horn?" asked Serra archly. "Nothin'." He heaved another sigh. "I can't believe you're making me take you all the way to Austin City..." "What are you going on about? Honestly, perhaps I could've found an escort with a sunnier disposition..." The sister then cocked her head to one side. "Hmmm? I do believe I hear something amiss... Come, Mr. Erk, we should go check it out!" She quickly clicked her heels to the side of her mount, and rode off. Erk groaned and followed her, muttering, "What a surprise, she goes looking for trouble. Sweet Elimine, I don't get paid enough to do this..." *** The gunman managed to catch up with Serra, to find her and her mule standing near the edge of a small cliff, watching as some sort of fight went on down below. "Is that a gunfight?" The nun placed a hand over her chest, as if she might swoon. "I do declare, that makes my heart go all a-flutter!" Disgusted, Erk moved his horse in front of Serra, effectively blocking the young woman's view of the fight. "How dare you, sir!" "Would you hush up, lady?" he snapped. "Do you want those bandits to hear us?" "But look at that girl fighting all those filthy outlaws!" she told him, pointing down below. The nun then placed her hands on her hips. "You aren't afraid a few li'l ol' bandits, are you, Mr. Erk? And you call yourself a hired gun... Do you even know how to use those six-shooters you wear?" The gunman was just about to make a cutting remark, when one of the outlaws happened to overhear their argument. "Hey! You two!" Erk put a hand over his eyes. "Oh, perfect..." For the first time in his life, Erk seriously considered turning his guns on a clergyman, despite the fact he was certain that St. Elimine would not appreciate him shooting one of her followers... No matter how irritating he found them. However, this was probably a bad time to be contemplating that course of action, as the bandit that had spotted them had just pointed his rifle at Serra... Causing the sister to let out a piercing shriek. Erk cringed at the noise. "Hush your mouth, gal! And get behind me, ya hear?" Quickly, the gunman dismounted his horse, pulled out his trusty six-shooters, and prepared to fight for his life. *** Meanwhile, the fight between Lyn's group and the band of outlaws had just began in earnest; Lyn herself had already slain a couple of bandits, as Mark stood nearby nervously and watched. Just then, Lyn looked up, from the bandit she had defeated. "Did you hear that?" "Hear what?" asked Mark, who was hanging back uneasily behind her. "A woman's scream... It came from over there!" said the plainswoman, pointing. Mark furrowed his brow, in uncertainty. "We'd better check it out..." The two ran over to the source of the disturbance, just in time to hear three gunshots pierce the air, and causing both of them to quicken their pace. As the pair finally reached their destination, they overheard a disgruntled female voice murmur, "Huh. I guess your reputation as a gunfighter isn't completely unfounded, Mr. Erk..." Mark and Lyn found themselves face-to-face with an odd couple indeed; a pink-haired nun dressed in white robes (that would've been pristine had she not been travelling for days) trying to look dignified as she sat on a mule... In front of her, stood a violet-haired young man dressed in a long, brown trenchcoat, holding a pair of smoking six- shooters. At his feet, lay one of the bandits, quite obviously dead. Lyn found herself coughing politely. "Uh, excuse me..." Both strangers looked up at this; the gunman in particular twirled his guns and replaced them back in his holsters. "Yes, ma'am?" the nun replied, as she tried to compose herself. "Why were you fighting this outlaw?" enquired Lyn. "It just... Happened that way," answered the gunfighter. "It most certainly did not!" his companion protested hotly. "That... Vicious brute thought we were a part of your gang! How dare you drag us into this position, as well!" The gunman rolled his eyes. "Sister Serra," he began, in an impatient tone, "this never would've have happened in the first place, if you didn't decide to stick your nose into other people's business!" "Well, I never!" The young man tipped his hat politely to Lyn, as the sister turned away in a huff. "My apologies, ma'am... We'll be on our way, now." "But... Won't those men be after you two, as well?" asked Mark. "I can't help but feel partly responsible for what happened to you," added Lyn, with a twinge of guilt. "Why not join our group? We could use your help in getting rid of these bandits." The nun seemed to mull this over. "Yes, that does sound like a good idea..." She waved a hand airily at the gunfighter. "Erk, be a l'il darlin' and help these two out, won't you?" "What?" he protested. Then, the gunman looked resigned. "Oh, fine, then... But I ain't doing this because you're telling me to, lady." "Believe whatever you want, honeysuckle..." At this, Mark and Lyn couldn't help exchanging a uneasy glance at each other. What kind of characters had they invited to join them, now? Suddenly, the gunman winced, as he grabbed his shoulder. Lyn glanced over at him, in concern. "Oh dear... You're hurt, aren't you?" Mark's brow wrinkled with worry. "Is there anything we can do to help?" Meanwhile, Lyn was rummaging around in her pack. "I think I still have some leftover healing salve in here, somewhere..." The gunman shook his head. "I reckon I'll be fine, ma'am... I just had a bullet graze my arm; it's nothing, really." Just then, the nun stepped forward. "Not to worry, Mr. Erk..." she declared, looking smug. "I can take care of that nasty li'l cut for you; I have to look out for my bodyguard, after all." From her saddlebag, she pulled out a wooden staff, which looked relatively plain, except for a blue gem at the top. Then, holding the jewelled end over Erk's wound, she began to murmur softly under her breath. To Lyn and Mark's amazement, the jewel began to glow, bathing Erk's arm with blue light, and healing up the wound before their very eyes. It was not long after that Erk was moving his shoulder tentatively, with no sign of pain whatsoever. Meanwhile, the nun twirled her staff, with a look of satisfaction. "There. Back to full health, courtesy of Sister Serra. Consider this one on the house, Mr. Erk... This time around." She leaned forward, to smirk at the young man. "Aren't you glad to have me around?" Gritting his teeth, the gunman looked away from her smug expression. "Gee, thanks..." he muttered, his voice dripping with irony. As the nun straightened up, she turned to Lyn and Mark, who had been watching the exchange between the two with some bemusement. "Well, we'd better get going, shall we?" she told them cheerfully. "We have the rest of those nasty ol' bandits to take care of. Come along, Mr. Erk..." With a sullen expression, the gunman followed the nun, as did Lyn and Mark, who were still somewhat taken aback by their new companions. *** While the four of them headed off after the bandits, both pairs hastily introduced themselves to each other... Then they all turned to focus at the task at hand. As their combined group continued to take down the bandits, Mark noticed that the outlaws' numbers had seemed to have dwindled from their previous encounters... If that was true, then it was no wonder the Gatlin Gang was so sore at them, he thought to himself. Mark then found his attention turning to Erk, who was the first actual gunfighter that he had come across, since he had arrived in El Libre... And as such, the gunman did not disappoint. Erk Horn handled his six-shooters with cool confidence and deadly accuracy; it was almost uncanny, the way he did so. And although he didn't strike Mark as the type to be a cold-hearted killer, Erk's lack of expression when in combat, made it very hard to tell... At long last, Lyn's group finally managed to take care of the last of the bandits, as Erk finished off their leader with a well-aimed shot from one of his guns. Lyn and Mark heaved a mutual sigh of relief, when they realized the fight was over... Not long after, Serra and Erk rode up to the two, to have a word with them. "I must say..." Serra told Lyn, "You were ever so brave, facing all of those dreadful bandits, like that." "Actually, I'm impressed by your abilities, as well," admitted Lyn. "Your healing powers are quite astonishing." "Well, I am in the service of St. Elimine, after all," proclaimed the nun, looking smug. "My staff has been blessed by the saint herself; only someone with my inate talent could wield such a holy relic of power." As Serra said this, she tried to sound modest, but with little success (at least, in Mark's opinion). "Um, yes..." replied Lyn, tactfully. "Well, we should be on our way now... Take care, you two." Serra and Erk politely exchanged their farewells to Lyn and Mark, in return. As Lyn rode away, Mark hung back uneasily. He was dying to have a word with Erk, who was the first real gunfighter he had come across in the Wild West, so far. But if the gunman left now, then he would never get a chance to speak with him... While Mark fretted over whether he should say something to the two before they left, he found that somebody else had already taken care of the matter for him. "Why, lookie here... Is this a mirage? Or just an oasis in the desert? 'Cause lady, your beauty is just like a clear spring to a parched traveller!" Mark found himself wincing internally at the flowery speech. There was only one person around here who would talk like that, especially to a lady... His suspicion was confirmed, as he glanced over at Serra and Erk; by this point, Sain had already bent over the nun's hand, and kissed it. Meanwhile, Serra seemed flattered by all the attention. "Oh my!" she declared, with a blush. "You must be one of Miss Lyn's companions, aren't you?" Sain nodded. "That I am, ma'am... The name is Sain Steele." "I never dreamed I'd finally meet a gentleman of such discerning taste, way out here... And a cavalryman, no less!" Sain beamed at the compliment. "I am Serra Hollingworth, a humble sister of St. Elimine." Just then, Mark caught Erk's expression... The gunman clearly looked exasperated by his companion's behaviour, as he rolled his eyes skywards. Mark couldn't blame him; even he found the flirtacious display between Sain and Serra, rather embarrassing to watch. "So, what brings you out here, Mr. Steele?" Serra asked Sain, as she fanned herself coquettishly. "I'm on a mission of great importance for the Mayor of Sierra." He leaned towards her, as if conveying a valuable secret. "We're escortin' his granddaughter back to Sierra, ya see..." Serra raised an eyebrow. "You mean... Lyn is the Mayor's granddaughter?" Sain nodded. "That's right, ma'am." "Hmmm..." A sly look appeared in Serra's eyes. Noticing this, Erk cast a suspicious glance at her. "You're up to something, ain't ya?" "Now, now, my intentions are absolutely pure and virtuous, Mr. Erk." As the gunman snorted, she continued on, in a low voice. "'Those who help others, help themselves', right? And if the 'other' in question just happens to be related to someone of power, then I'm certainly helping myself, aren't I?" Erk shook his head, in disgust. "Lady, what kind of nun are you?" "The 'going to be rich' kind!" Serra then raised her voice again. "Yoo-hoo! Mr. Sain?" she called out, as she waved the cavalryman over. "I was wonderin'... Would Miss Lyn mind if we joined her li'l ol' posse? I want to help her, out of the goodness of my own heart." Behind her, Erk covered his face with his hand. Sain tipped his hat at Serra, with a grin. "Ma'am, I'm sure she'd be delighted to have you along. I reckon we could always use a couple of extra hired guns." The nun raised an eyebrow at this. "Oh? You're not wanted men, are you?" "Not at all, ma'am!" protested Sain. "Miss Lynette just happens to be the heiress to a family fortune, and we're just protectin' her from those who are tryin' to keep her away from her rightful inheritance." "Oh, that sounds ever so excitin'!" exclaimed Serra. Erk frowned. "Sounds kind of dangerous, to me..." At this, the nun elbowed him hard in the ribs, causing the gunman to grunt and fall silent. Meanwhile, Sain had turned to Mark, who had been observing the proceedings with some curiosity. "Hey Mark, you don't mind if these folks join up with us, do ya?" Mark shook his head. "I don't see why not, Sain... They've already proven themselves in battle, as it were." And it will give me another chance to talk with an actual gunfighter, he added to himself, as he cast a glance over at Erk. "Then it's settled, then! I'll just have a word with Miss Lynette. If you folks would follow me..." Sain led the other two in the direction that Lyn had headed off to, as Mark looked on... The nun rode past with a pleased expression on her face; Erk on the other hand, looked less than happy about the situation. As the gunman rode past Mark, he just barely made out the words that Erk uttered under his breath. "What have I gotten myself into...?" *** With their two new companions in tow, Lyn's group passed into La Sienna county without incident. As they crossed the border, the bandits that were after them finally seemed to have stopped their pursuit, as well... Perhaps Wil was right about the law being tougher around here, thought Mark. Alas, Sain's hopes that they would reach a 'real town' before nightfall were soon dashed, and the group was forced to camp out in the wilderness again... Although the cavalryman didn't seem too disappointed by this, as he had found something else to occupy his time. Sain had had little luck in 'getting to know' the ladies in the group, so far... Lyn was just exasperated by any advances he made towards her (as was Kent, Mark couldn't help noticing), and Florina simply avoided the rest of the men, as much as possible... Sister Serra, on the other hand, seemed starved for any sort of attention, and lapped up any compliments that the soldier was willing to lavish upon her. Mark was kind of uncomfortable with this; she was a nun after all, and had vows of celibacy, and such... Still, perhaps he was just misinterpreting good old 'Southern hospitality', for something else entirely. Also, the nun had been travelling in the company of Erk, who was indifferent enough to cast gloom over the entire group... The exchanges between Sain and Serra were amusing at first, but did get tedious after a while... And by the time camp had been set up and dinner had been eaten, most of the group had opted to hastily retreat to their bedrolls and turn in for the night, as the couple continued their playful banter, by the campfire. As Mark excused himself and edged away from the fire, he then realized that not all of the group had turned in for night; Erk was sitting outside of the firelight, leaning against a log. Somehow, he had found a piece of straw somewhere and was chewing on it idly, shifting it from one side of his mouth, to the other. Mark swallowed nervously. At last, here was his chance to speak with a real gunfighter; he just hoped that it would work out better than the last time he talked to someone from the group, in private... He had previously been trying to have a word with Florina (with little success, as the Wind Rider kept on avoiding him). So finally, Mark had begged Lyn to talk to Florina, so that he could have a closer look at her horse (despite the El Rhean horses' legendary dislike of men). That didn't go quite as well as Mark had hoped... "I am so sorry, senor!" apologized Florina, as she fought to keep her horse's head steady, by gripping its bridle. "Javier must really like you, to want your hat so very much..." "That's quite all right, Florina," panted Mark, as he tried to grab his hat back from Javier's teeth. The horse just managed to keep it out of his reach; he seemed to think it was a game, of some sort. "I guess I should be flattered, then...." Mark glanced at the indentations now embedded in the brim of his bowler hat. Well, at least I can now say there are the teethmarks of a genuine El Rhean horse on my hat, he thought, with a wry smile. After taking a deep breath, Mark cautiously approached Erk. He didn't like invading the gunfighter's personal space, but his fascination with all things Western had got the better of him, again... Although Erk's aloofness was a bit intimidating, Mark didn't think the gunman would be the type to be offended, when questioned... Or so he hoped. "Excuse me, sir.." Mark asked Erk hesistantly. "You mind if I sit here?" The gunman paused in chewing his length of straw, for a moment. "Go right ahead," he answered. "Um, thanks." Mark sat down, hugging his knees, keeping careful to stay a respectful distance from Erk. There was an uncomfortable silence. Mark glanced sideways at Erk, and couldn't help noticing that underneath the all the trail dust, the gunfighter's clothing was actually quite fine; under his long trenchcoat, he wore a blue vest, and a red bandana; he was also wearing tan leather chaps and spurs, as well. "You from back East?" Erk asked Mark suddenly, startling the latter from his observation. Mark nodded wordlessly. "Thought so," replied the gunman, then fell silent again. Mark saw this as an opening, and cleared his throat, nervously. "So... I hope you don't mind me asking, but... What's it like, to be a hired gun?" Erk finally turned to look at him, and Mark tried not to flinch from his gaze... But there was only a continued lack of expression on the gunman's face. When Erk turned back to stare into the distance, Mark felt relieved. "To be quite frank, Mr. Alexander," replied Erk suddenly, managing to catch Mark off guard again, "I'd rather be back home, studyin'." Mark raised an eyebrow, at this. "Oh? So you're a scholar, then?" Erk nodded. "A-yup." As Mark took a closer look at the gunman's face, he then realized that Erk must only be in his mid-teens; he was even younger than Mark himself was. It must've been the gunman's cool competence that fooled him into thinking that Erk was older than he actually was. Something then occurred to Mark. "Hold on... If you'd rather be studying, then what are you doing way out here?" "I made a promise to my mentor," replied Erk slowly. "He said I couldn't just stay cooped up at home, readin' books; I had to go out into the world and learn something, as well." "Wise words," observed Mark. Erk shrugged. "I guess... But I have an obligation to the Marshall, and I ain't one to go back on my word." Mark's brow wrinkled, at this. "Marshall?" he repeated. "Oh, I'm sorry," apologized Erk. "I reckon I should explain... My mentor is the Marshall of Atlas Ridge, Pent Wrigley." It took a few moments for Erk's words to sink in, but when they did, Mark's jaw dropped in shock. "You're telling me... Your mentor is Marshall Pent Wrigley?" "Yep. Have you heard of him?" "Have I heard of him? Are you kidding me? Why, he's the most famous lawman in the West today! I've heard that he's the best gunslinger in all of El Libre... With the help of his wife and deputy, they've put dozens, maybe hundreds of outlaws behind bars... And he's only been the Marshall of Atlas Ridge for three years!" Erk looked amused at Mark's reaction. "So, you have heard of him, then." Mark coughed, as he got a hold of himself. "I'm so sorry... I'm getting carried away again, aren't I...?" "It's all right. I never realized the Marshall was so famous, even back East." Mark nodded. "I've read stories about him in the newspapers." And cut them out, he added mentally, though he didn't say so aloud. Erk continued to speak, in a preoccupied tone. "The Marshall's done a lot for me, and I appreciate his advice, but... Like I said before, I'd much rather be back in Atlas Ridge, with my nose in a book, than out here, as a hired gun." At this, Mark couldn't help chuckling to himself, causing Erk to glare at him. "What's so funny?" Mark cleared his throat, apologetically. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound rude... But it's funny you should say that." He then leaned back, and started to explain. "Like you, I was a scholar back East; but I felt trapped being cooped up inside the university, studying all the time." Mark then turned, to look at Erk. "That's why I came out West, you see. I wanted to experience everything I had been reading about, not just read it in a history book." As Erk stared back at him, Mark gazed thoughtfully in the distance. "It's odd, isn't it? You'd rather be home studying, and I'd rather be here, out West... Strange how that all works out." Erk nodded slowly. "I reckon so..." Mark glanced sideways, at the gunman again. "Listen," began Mark. "I know people from the university I went to, back East... If you're ever interested in studying over there, let me know, all right? I'm sure I could arrange something." Erk blinked in surprise. "Why, that's a mighty fine offer, Mark... Thank you." The gunman then tipped his hat at him. "And if you're ever in Atlas Ridge, feel free to stop by the Marshall's office... I'm sure Marshall Wrigley would be more than happy to meet with you, once I have a word with him." "Really?" asked Mark, his eyes lighting up with delight. As Erk gazed at him with amusement, Mark managed to compose himself. "Um, I mean... That's very kind of you, Erk. Thanks." The two then sat in a companionable silence, still wondering how two such different people could be so strangely alike. TO BE CONTINUED... ***** I know I use the less common spelling of Pent's last name here (Wrigley rather than Reglay, both of which are used in the script; go inconsistancy!) but I used that one because it's a more common name in itself, in fitting with the Western-style names. References: Serra Hollingsworth - To make a long story short, it's a reference to a southern lady. (BTW, Serra's mannerisms in the story are heavily inspired by Scarlett O'Hara; maybe a bit of Blanche DuBois, as well.) Erk Horn - Let me put it this way... Erk was originally translated as "Elk"; hence, "Elk Horn". (Please, don't kill me.) Oh, and Erk's outfit is sort of inspired by Brisco County Jr.'s, from which I got a lot of inspiration when writing this story. Also, I've been considering writing a couple of side stories in the Burning Brand universe... One about Erk's past, and the other about the guys having a night out at a saloon. If anyone is interested, I may start working on these ideas on the side (although, I'm not sure I'd release the second one before Chapter 8 of this story, for various reasons). *** Copyright, Aviatrix8, 2007. Fire Emblem and all related characters are property of Nintendo et al., and are used without permission.