On the southern tip of the continent, in a large barren land
untouched by the kingdom's influence...
A pair of nameless nomad mercenaries gave birth to a wide-eyed,
freckled, mischievous girl, and named her Fiona.
Her father was the leader of the mercenary group, and her
mother was a skilled warrior. Their lives were full of laughter.
One day, out of the blue, her mother handed Fiona a shield.
Mother
You must learn how to protect yourself.
You're old enough now to contribute to the group.
That very day, with a grin and a leap,
Fiona began training with the other mercenaries.
The attacked her with wooden swords,
and Fiona learned to fend them off with her shield.
Every muscle ached when the long day finally ended, but her
mother smiled, and never had Fiona felt so happy.
Mother
Remember. Your enemies will show you no mercy on the
battlefield. You must train yourself to be stronger than them.
Fiona nodded, determined never to forget her mother's words.
Fiona grew quickly in the barren lands.
She grew skilled in wielding her shield.
One day, a bear appeared, threatening a nearby town.
The mercenaries set out to take it down.
They anticipated a tense battle with a giant beast,
but when they arrived, the cave was strangely still.
They made their way inside warily...
And found Fiona, wounded but grinning,
sitting next to the corpse of the giant beast.
She'd even had time to make a fire.
Fiona
What took you so long, ya big slowpokes?
Why don't you make yourselves useful
and help me lug this thing home? I'm starving!
The other mercenaries ruffled her hair
and helped carry the giant beast back to camp.
Just like that, the others considered her their equal.
...
Father
I can't understand it... The Fomors have mobilized.
What are they trying to accomplish?
As evening fell, the mercenaries gathered for an
emergency meeting.
IMAGE - FOMORIAN ARMY MARCH
An army of Fomors was approaching the canyon where
they had made their home for the season.
The Fomors numbered a hundred strong.
IMAGE - MERCENARIES
The mercenaries numbered a modest thirty.
Mother
They've gotten bolder. They're trying to drive
humans from the south.
Once the Fomors passed through the canyon, everyone
in the town on the other side would be doomed.
If they left now, the mercenaries could save themselves...
Father
Ha! Nobody is paying us. We don't have to do this.
One by one, the mercenaries went around.
One by one, each of them chose to stay and fight.
No one had hired them.
No one would be paying them.
They were not fighting for fame or glory.
Nor were they fighting for the goddess.
But one by one, they picked up their swords and shield...
They put on their armor, and they headed to the mouth
of the canyon.
Father
Don't let a single one of those bastards pass!
That was the last order Fiona ever heard from her father.
...
When the battle ended, the Fomor bodies were stacked high.
Not a single Fomor made it through. The mercenaries had won!
But all that Fiona saw was...
Thirty graves, marked by sword and shield.
A man headed for Rocheste eventually passed by
and asked her, shocked.
What is this?! Whose graves are these?
Nobody's. Not anymore.
Her voice was soft, her expression indifferent.
Fiona's eyes were glazed over, but not a single tear fell.
She had no more tears.
Only dry wind swirled in the canyon of the barren.
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