Chapter Text
The wicked wizard Hugor was causing trouble in the highlands north of New Galatea. His castle, a big, blackened assembly of sharp weapons and grey stones, sputtered around the rolling hills, disturbing all the goats and sheep and cows that normally spent their lives peacefully grazing on the highland grass and blue wildflowers.
Few people lived, once they’d met Hugor in the flesh. It was said he would descend into the town late at night and challenge young men to duels and feed their souls to his blood-red blade. It was said he’d carve out the virtue of young maidens should they be outdoors after the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. It was said that his eyes glowed with burning hellfire where his heart had once been.
Dimitri did not care as much for the possessed sword bit. But mostly, he was rather perturbed for the livestock.
“My, they are getting quite large, aren’t they? All of you will become the most impressive goats in all of Faerghus, won’t you?” Dimitri asked as he leaned down to rub behind a black goat’s ear. His owner, a rather short farmer named Albert, simply glowered at the sputtering black eyesore on the horizon.
(It was true actually. New Galatea’s livestock, without fail, took home the blue ribbons in the annual Faerghus Farming Fair. Old Gertrude, a cow nearly as old as Dimitri, was the current record-holder for “Very Large Cow.”)
“They aren’t doing anything so long as that vagabond is drifting about.” Albert huffed and stared pointedly at Dimitri. “When’s your pa going to scare that ragamuffin off?”
Dimitri awkwardly brushed a strand of hair behind his ear. “Yes. Well.” He bowed. “I will see what we can do.”
Albert nodded approvingly. “Do that. Can’t have the mayors falling down on the job with no king to guide us, you know.”
The king, it was said, was on his deathbed - yet another thing that had most of Faerghus uneasy. The heir died many many years ago in a fire and the throne would inevitably fall to the king’s brother - by all accounts a lazy skirt-chaser who cared nothing for the Flame Witch to the high north or the Adrestian Empire to the south.
“I will speak to my father upon my return. Do give your wife my regards.” Dimitri bowed once more and, after a moment, made sure to scratch the goat’s ear one last time.
“Yes - it is very important indeed that we protect the cows. Or should I say - provide sheepcurity . ” Alois, Sothis bless him, made a sharp snort before shaking his head. “Really. To have all this trouble at such a time - surely the Goddess is laughing at us.”
Alois was, by all accounts, a very caring man and an effective enough mayor for a small-sized town. He was friendly and boisterous enough to handle crises and loud and physical enough to handle the vagrants that occasionally would come through and threaten the peace. He’d taken care of Dimitri ever since Dimitri’s parents met an untimely death and indeed, Dimitri had not a single complaint of his upbringing save the occasional painful pun.
“I could go up to the wizard and speak to him?” Dimitri offered. They were both sitting in the small, spartan mayor’s office as Alois parsed through letters and notes and muttered over a map of Faerghus. Dimitri didn’t miss the several little red circles that indicated Adrestian forces drifting through, supposedly under the pretense of searching for some lost princess that disappeared years ago.
Lost princesses and dead princes and wizards and witches running about. Perhaps Sothis really was playing some sort of joke upon Fodlan.
“You shouldn’t need to do anything, my boy.” Alois reached out to pat Dimitri’s shoulder. “You know, I heard Ashe did indeed receive knighthood at Gautier. Perhaps you should follow his footsteps? I hear they’re looking for young men to help with the border there and, after all, you’re quite adept with a spear. I would hate to see you spend your life looking out for this place.”
Dimitri smiled although the effect was more than a little strained. It was true - he remembered the day Ashe had set out and their last conversation where he’d reassured Ashe that he would certainly end up as a knight the second he set foot in Gautier.
And Mercedes, bless her, who went off to serve in the church. Dimitri always did speak highly of her ability to soothe troubled souls.
And Dedue, his dear childhood friend, who had opened a restaurant to great aplomb, just as Dimitri knew he would. Dedue had, Dimitri noted, never burned a meal in his life.
But Dimitri was different. He was not the son of a poor farmer who, as a general rule, found out they were related somehow to some long-lost nobility and had some great destiny to fulfill. He was not the youngest child who tended to rise to the greatest fame and fortune and he got along quite well with his little sister Hannah instead of some great sibling schism that always led to blood and tragedy. He did not have any magic beans or long-lost artifact that needed to be returned to its owner. He did not even have an evil stepmother as Alois’s wife Gertrude was quite kind and devoted to her children.
This meant that Dimitri would forever live a life of mediocrity in a medium-sized town. At some point, perhaps, he’d dreamed of more but he was happy enough. Someone had to look out for the farmers and the sheep and manage merchant disputes.
“Please don’t worry about me.” Dimitri pulled a letter from the stack. “I’m sure I’ll be quite fine.”
New Galatea was considered a quaint pass-through to most of Faerghus. Few people paid it any mind but no one spoke ill of it. The weather was quite nice, especially in comparison to northern Faerghus’s bitter cold. The inside of the town was usually bustling with activity as it had a rather well-known haberdashery and a bakery that sold the most delicious pastries made with the most impressive goat cheese around. At the center of the town was an old, creaking water wheel that had gone through so many iterations and repairs over the years that no one could remember why it was built or what it looked like to begin with.
Dimitri had memorized each route, each bridge, each door of the pathway. He smiled pleasantly and greeted each and every member of the community and inquired politely about their goings-on. Each afternoon he spent some time in a private area of the back alleys to perfect his lancework, just to spend some time gathering his thoughts together.
And yet this afternoon he felt somehow - small. There was nothing unusual, aside from the speck of Hugor’s castle whirling around somewhere past the town limits. There was no danger, no bandis, no upset merchants that he could tell.
It was just him.
Alone.
Dimtiri thought of Ashe and then Dedue - perhaps one day he would venture out and visit them. One day. There was still so much that needed to be done and Alois certainly had his hands full as it was. Perhaps -
Dimitri felt eyes on him.
He turned, pausing to look up as someone drifted into his field of vision. It was a young man - perhaps his age, if not slightly younger. He wore soft blues and had dark hair and a sword tucked against his hip.
“May I help you?” Dimitri asked politely. Mercenaries and swordsmen weren’t an unusual sight but usually they stayed very close to the center of the town before going on their way. This one was rather -
Pretty -
Perhaps a knight from one of the lords then?
“Where did you learn to do that?” The stranger asked in a low, measured tone.
Dimitri awkwardly spun his lance around, more out of habit than showing off. “I taught myself.”
The swordsman raised an eyebrow. He stepped closer, slowly -
Dimitri lifted his weapon just as the stranger charged. He blocked a high blow, then a lower one, then he whirred around to counter as his opponent deftly swung his blade downwards.
On impulse, Dimitri shoved his weapon forward, catching the stranger in his sternum. He fell back to the ground and Dimitri pressed the blunt tip of his spear against the other’s stomach.
And then DImitri jerked back, flushed and embarrassed.
The stranger ‘s expression remained neutral but there was a slight upturn of his lips. “You’re good.”
“Oh. No.” Dimitri shook his head, trying to settle the solid thud of his heart. “I do apologize for my recklessness.”
The stranger stood up, casually brushing the stray dirt off his trousers. He tucked his sword back in its sheath and went back to considering Dimitri.
“You could come with me, you know.” He tilted his chin northwards. “I’m headed for Fhirdiad.”
Dimitri bowed his head apologetically. “That’s not necessary. I am quite happy here.”
“”Be that way then.” The stranger sniffed disdainfully. “Keep living as some old, stubborn bore.”
And then he turned on his heel and walked off, not sparing a moment’s glance backwards.
Dimitri gripped his lance and wondered why he felt so - disappointed.
That night he stood in his very small room and stared into his very small mirror and sighed.
“Perhaps I really am an old boar after all.”
He did not sleep very well.
Rain moved in to the highlands the next day. Dimitri did not remember the scholars predicting such but New Galatea weather was rather fickle.
Alois packed his things and announced he would set out to speak to the regional governor to try and shoo off the bothersome wizard. Dimitri smiled and promised to mind the mayor’s office,so that Gertrude and Hannah could accompany Alois on his journey.
Perhaps it was his bout yesterday but he’d noted a dull pain in his joints. If that was how one felt after a spar, he could only imagine the aches Ashe received!
Still, it was quiet. Few people would venture out in such a heavy downpour. Dimitri read through tax form after tax form and then, after that started to give him an odd case of eye strain, he turned his attention to the map of Faerghus.
The door opened.
He blinked, looking up to see a small woman in bright red silk and black furs. Her light, almost white hair was fixed in tight braids. She carried herself with a grace Dimitri rarely saw around New Galatea.
“May I help you?” Dimitri asked, trying to sit up straight. Something inside felt wary; almost hesitant under her gaze. A mouse waiting to see what a cat would do to them.
“What did he want with you?” The woman asked, crossing her arms. “The wizard?”
Dimitri’s brain stuttered. “I beg your pardon?” He hadn’t ever met a wizard - not in all the years he’d been about. Surely he’d remember such. Wizards were rare and, aside from the wicked ones, served as advisors to royalty.
“I know he found you.” She pursed her lips. “There’s no need to be coy.”
Dimitri rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I can assure you - no one found me. I have no idea who you’re - “
He stopped.
The swordsman yesterday did not have glowing eyes. He most definitely did not perform any magic. Surely it was not -
No. This woman was - was quite dangerous. He could tell. “I’m sorry. I cannot help you.”
“Very well then.” The woman took one step back. “Continue to be stubborn, if you must. I’ll find him one way or another.” She turned to head back towards the door and paused, her hand hovering against the doorknob. “By the way - you will not be able to tell a soul about that little curse of yours. Have a good day.”
And then she was gone.
Dimitri rubbed at his nose again, tired, somehow even more aching and -
He looked down, startled to see wrinkles on his skin. There was an unfamiliar age spot against his knuckle, and then another.
He tried to jump to his feet but his bones protested with each and every aching movement. He shuffled weakly to the nearest mirror and stared -
An old man with ghostly white hair stared back at him. His skin was covered in wrinkles and age spots and his nose was more snout than human. Atop his wispy hair were two pig-ears, folded over and downright absurd.
Well.
Dimitri felt strangely distant as his own hand went up to touch the wrinkly pig-man’s face. He felt skin like dry paper, hardly that of a young man.
Distantly, he went to the back area of the mayor’s office and gathered some plain cheese and dried bread, a coat and, after a moment of guilt, reached for one of Gertrude’s old light blue shawls. He tied it slowly around his face and shrugged the coat on, noting how much heavier the fabric felt.
Before he left, he wrote a short, one-paragraph letter in scrawling, shaking handwriting that he was most sorry but was going off due to an unforeseen circumstance.
The farmers would not be pleased to meet with an old man, let alone one with a pig nose and pig ears. The sheep would be put off too, surely. Best not to upset anyone, let alone Alois and Gertrude who would be most troubled about taking care of an old man.
There was no one in New Galatea that could undo curses. Perhaps no one at all aside from another witch or wizard, and Dimitri doubted he would run into one on the side of the road!
Slowly, carefully, Dimitri left the mayor’s office. He made sure to turn the sign in the window to “CLOSED” and apologized profusely for failing in his duties.
He tugged a coat tight around his shoulders and walked slowly, the rain pelting on his head, towards the highlands.
There was nothing to be done about it but leave after all.