Fire Emblem: PoR: The All-Consuming Thunder Mage

Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance: The All-Consuming Thunder Mage



         Always having the heart of a healer, Mist panicked at the sight before her. Marcia and Mia followed shortly after, but Mist was the first to rush forward to the side of their friend: the thunder mage Ilyana, who lay on the ground inside her tent, tied up and gagged and as still as a stone. Mist ran her fingers over Ilyana's neck--and breathed a sigh of relief. A pulse. "She's alright, don't worry!" Mist said, then paused. "Well, it's only been two minutes after all..."

         "Longer since she ate our entire food supply! Again!" Marcia griped. "I'm so hungry... how many times has this happened? We're the ones who should be passing out here!"

         * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

         Five times. It had happened five times and they'd subdued her three times, but to no avail.

         Day one. Lunch time. No food. It caught everyone off-guard that a thin-looking girl like Ilyana could have eaten through the Greil Mercenaries' store of food, but they called it a freak circumstance.

         Day two. Lunch time. No food. Again. The trio of girls knew it would become a pattern if they left her alone--and they made a pact to stop that from happening.

         Day three. An hour before lunch time. The pegasus knight Marcia and the myrmidon Mia used their strength and speed to hold Ilyana while Mist looped and knotted ropes around her wrists and ankles, binding her. They believed it would be enough to keep her in her tent. She believed otherwise.

         Day three. Lunch time. No food. Again. "She must have untied her feet at least to come over here. We can't stop at tying her hands in front of her," said Mia.

         Lesson learned.

         Day four. An hour before lunch time. This time Mist secured Ilyana's wrists behind her back and used a third rope to link her wrists to her ankles. The girls left her bound on the ground, unable to stand up. This time they knew they'd done enough. Ilyana knew otherwise.

         Day four. Lunch time. No food. Again. The girls ran to Ilyana's tent and what they found shocked them: she was there, still tied up hand and foot. The only sign that anything had changed since they left her: markings in the dirt outside. She'd inchwormed her way to the food supply.

         "Did she eat everything using only her mouth?" Mist asked.

         "However she did it, we need to start watching her," said Marcia.

         Lesson learned.

         Day five. An hour before lunch time. This time Mist locked a collar around Ilyana's neck and tethered her to her tent pole. "Mist, may I?" Mia asked, pointing at her ally's scarf. Mist nodded approval and Mia untied her scarf, then stepped behind Ilyana and pulled the scarf into her mouth, wrapped it around in three layers, and tied it off, gagging her. "Perfect."

         Mia volunteered to be the first watch and remained inside her tent. As she stood guard, Ilyana began to lunge forward as best she could while restrained, her eyes fixed on the myrmidon's feet. "Oh no you don't. I haven't forgotten that time!"

         Back in Mia's own tent, a half-chewed boot sat in the corner.

         "Mia!" Mist's voice rang from outside. "Come quick!"

         Day five. Still an hour before lunch time. No food. Already. "You've been watching, right?" asked Marcia, but she knew the answer: "She must have eaten it all before we even got to her!"

         Lesson learned. Hopefully the last one. Probably not.

         * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

         "Who needs magic tomes to use thunder spells?" asked Marcia. "The real thunder is her stomach growling!"

         "And now ours," said Mist. Her voice, still chipper and slightly amused, annoyed Marcia somewhat.

         "At least she didn't eat your shoe," said Mia.

         "Hey," said Marcia, "you always talk about that fortune teller who told you about meeting your archrival in white. Maybe Ilyana's the one you've been worrying about!"

         "No," said Mia, "her cape's more like a faint pink."

         But Marcia was half-right: Mia had met her match. This battle would long continue.