Personnel File

[shinon]

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Characters: Shinon, Titania, Greil Mercenaries ensemble
Word count: ~5000
Warnings: Well, Shinon's in this one, so... [handwaves] crude language, unflattering takes on every single one of the Greil Mercs (opinions herein may not represent my own), drunkenness, etc.
Notes: Scenes within are in non-chronological order. Gift for queenlua for Press Start 2022.

Early in the creation period for this exchange I had a dream that some internet rando was trying to start beef with me over the rights to use "shinon" as a screenname. They felt they had a better claim on it than I did. I woke up thinking, "all right, amigo, you wanna see my credentials? You wanna see my goddamn bona fides?"

---

MIA.

645-652

They've been back at their base for a week after the war, and Titania is running a routine morning inspection she's really come to miss, when Shinon waves her down. He is hung over.

"The purple one," he says. "When is she going home."

"Good morning to you, too," she says. He pulls a face, like he'd be rolling his eyes if his eyes didn't hurt right now; she's familiar with his tells. She says, "You're referring to Mia?"

"Whoever she is. She met me on my way back this morning and challenged me to a damn duel. When's she leaving?"

"She's not. She lives here now."

This takes a second to sink in. Then Shinon says, "Oh, fuck me, she's one of ours?"

"Greil hired her himself."

"Bullshit. When?"

There are many answers to that question, in varying levels of cutting and sarcastic. About nine hours before he died, is one. It was one of his final acts as Commander. Another: Ah, you wouldn't know, it was the same day you left.

She picks one of the milder options, all told. He did say "one of ours," which is a sort of admission. She says, "I've seen her original contract papers. I know his handwriting."

Shinon squints at her.

"Oh, fine," he says, at last. "But talk to her, would you? Tell her she can blunt her sword on Gatrie instead."

Titania feigns a very mild astonishment. "Did Gatrie make it back from the bars alive, then? I hadn't heard."

"Dunno," Shinon says, with a careless lift of one shoulder, but an expression that says Dammit I better go look for him.

Titania leaves him to it.

*

IKE.

645-663

Shinon takes against Ike almost immediately. This will seem odd in retrospect.

It's a little strange regardless, harboring some personal animus against a child ten years his junior. But when Titania gets to know him better, it makes even less sense. To the extent Shinon gets along with anyone, it tends to be people younger than him. He prefers casting himself in the role of Your All-Knowing and Impressively Cynical Older Relation, Occasionally Stirred by Some Arbitrary Whim to Bestow Upon You the Gift of his Skills and Wisdom.

If this says anything about his life before the mercenaries, Titania is careful not to speculate.

Maybe it's that Ike has no interest in Shinon's approval. Ike is an even-tempered, reasonable child, who adores his father, and speaks to everyone but his father in the same rough-and-ready way, as if they're all equals.

Shinon grumbles, "Keep that snot-nosed whelp out of my way," and Ike doesn't even mind.

It's lucky for the whole company that he has no quarrel with Mist, because she'd be much more inclined to give him one.

*

RHYS.

643-649

Shinon opens and closes his hand a few times, and gives Rhys an approving nod. "The Commander's getting his money's worth out of you, huh?" One of those bandits yesterday got a good slice in at Shinon's left elbow, and it bled a lot and trashed his grip strength and for the whole rest of the fight he couldn't hit anything worth a damn. So he had to fall back on one of his other specialties, namely talking a whole bunch of shit. If you pretend to be a sitting duck and tell your average bandit that he's got a case of crotch rot so bad you can smell it from here, that he probably picked up from fucking his sister, which is a weird thing to do because his sister's not even cute -

Well, that gets your average bandit's undivided attention. So, say, Titania, or whoever's closest to hand, can come knock 'em on the head before they notice a damn thing.

("Your rhetoric is... colorful as ever," she said, as she tossed a roll of bandages to him over the bandit's body.

"Based on a true story," he said, deadpan, quickly binding up his arm. "That shit's rampant in Begnion.")

Rhys blinks. "Pardon?"

"You fixed up Titania last week. And now you've done it for me. Maybe you haven't noticed it yet, but she and I are pretty much carrying this company. So keep it up."

Rhys blinks, again, like something about this confuses him. Nice guy, Rhys. Polite. Doesn't seem to have any idea what he's gotten into, or who he's dealing with. Greil must've explained to him, hey, we're in the business of killing people, your job is to make sure none of us get got so we can get more of those assholes over there. But maybe he needs it in smaller words. Maybe he's just been lucky, and hasn't had the kind of life where this stuff makes sense to him.

After a pause Rhys says, "You're very... confident."

"And water is wet."

"Well - at any rate, I'm happy you and Titania are looking out for each other. You keep that up, too."

Which seems like a strange thing to take away from this conversation. Also, not something Shinon needs to be told.

*

GATRIE.

638-

Titania is approachable, pretty, knows her way around a battlefield, and about the most normal person you'll find here. The knighthood counts against her, yeah, but she did quit being a knight, which shows she's got some sense.

So it was a matter of time. Gatrie's been with the company all of two weeks when he turns to Shinon, eyebrows raised, and says, "Soooo, Deputy Commander Titania, huh?"

"Nope. No. No way."

Gatrie frowns. "But -"

Shinon sighs and waves him over. "C'mere a second." Gatrie steps closer. Shinon says, "You were a merchant's brat, right?"

Gatrie scratches at the back of his head. "I was, yeah."

"And you grew up in a house with books in it, didn't you?"

"Well, we had to sell them all when the markets -"

"Shut up. What I'm saying is, you're an educated guy, right?"

"Sort of?"

Shinon grabs him by the ear and yanks. Gatrie stumbles over with a pained yelp. In a low voice Shinon says, "So why is it me who has to tell you not to shit where you sleep?"

Gatrie pulls away, rubbing his ear, and gives Shinon the most pitifully wounded and confused look this side of a stray dog.

"She's not being nice to you because she likes your face. She's a professional. And I don't care how hot she is, she's the boss's right hand. Trust me. I'm saving you from yourself here. You try to make a move, you'll only make shit weird."

Gatrie looks like he's thinking about this, very hard and very seriously. There may be hope for him yet. After a moment he nods, like he's got it figured out, and Shinon relaxes a little.

Gatrie says, "I got it. If you wanted first dibs on asking her out, I'll stand down."

Shinon stares at him. "Do you understand a word anyone says to you?"

Gatrie shrugs. "You said yourself she's hot."

"Well, yeah, I do have eyes. But you gotta think about the bigger picture here."

"If you really like her, I don't think you should let that stop you."

Shinon sighs again and scrubs a hand over his face. "Fuck it. If you think I'm wasting away in love with her or something, you can buy my drinks tonight."

*

OSCAR.

640-650

Part-time, 650-

Oscar makes the company a roast fowl with apricot sauce. What's more impressive is it's not even apricot season. He says he had a jar of them, dried and salted, from last year, that he was saving for a special occasion.

After dinner Shinon gives Titania a conspiratorial look: "We're keeping this one, right?"

She sighs happily. "I hope so." For the past few years they've tended to buy food from the nearby towns, on a rotating basis. They've prioritized volume, economy, and not overburdening any one neighbor over any great culinary experience. Actually - she's almost never seen Shinon take a meal with the company unless Greil specifically asks him to stick around. And actually - she cocks her head. "Can I count on you not to run him off?"

"Hey," he says, "I can be nice."

She snorts. "Forgive me if I don't believe you."

"I can be less of a dick," he says, like this is a grand concession. "If there's something in it for me." His eyes narrow speculatively. He's watching Oscar take off his apron and leave the dining hall. "I had this pork with walnuts once. D'you think...?"

"Maybe..."

In the weeks that follow, foraged local ingredients start showing up in Oscar's cooking on occasion - nuts, mushrooms, berries, the kinds of things a person could easily scoop up in the woods on the way back from patrolling, or from holding a position up a tree all day. Sometimes small game, too, even though Shinon typically maintains that hunting is beneath him.

Titania finds out later that Shinon has been making Oscar pay him for these finds, and she can't shame him into stopping.

*

GREIL.

637-645

One day Titania goes to the graveside, and he's already there. If it were anyone else, she'd probably leave and come back another day. Instead she deliberately makes some noise as she leaves the immediate cover of the trees, so Shinon can bolt if he wants, and they can pretend they never saw each other here.

But he doesn't react until she's standing beside him, and even then he keeps looking straight ahead. He says, "I just wanted one good shot at the bastard. Was that so much?"

She stops herself from agreeing with him too quickly. She's supposed to be the reasonable one.

Shinon says, "Fought him head-on twice. And nobody saved a piece for me."

"War doesn't work like that. You know it doesn't. You don't get to earmark individual combatants for your personal revenge. Just be satisfied that he's dead."

"Uh-huh. Sure." Shinon finally turns to her, then, and his face is almost empty of expression. "And who had this conversation with Ike? Wouldn't've been you."

Her first impulse is always to defend Ike, but - he's never really needed that from her. And he's never needed to be told, either, that life isn't a story. He does what he does, and stories happen to him. Lost heirs, ancient enemies turned allies, slumbering gods astir. A father avenged, with perfect poetic justice.

Shinon says, "You wanted it, too. The Black Knight's blood on your hands." He looks away again, at the axe planted in the grave. "It wouldn't piss me off as much if you'd gotten to kill him." He sounds tired. "That twerp gets enough already. And he trusts you. You could've -"

"Will you please stop posturing?"

His mouth snaps shut. He stares at her like she's a stranger, and like he's too startled to take offense just yet.

"There's nothing you or I can change," she says. "We never could have. We're just regular people." He starts to say something. Before she can think better of it, she cuts him off: "You just want Greil back."

His jaw works in silence. She's expecting him, any second, to say something crude and stalk off.

Instead he says, with a forced approximation of his usual scorn, "And?"

Late afternoon sunlight slants through the trees, scattering patches of light and shadow across the ground where the Commander lies. The wind stirs the leaves, and the pattern shifts.

Titania wonders if Greil would be happy with how everything turned out, and with the fate of his company. She wonders, How would I even begin to explain the past three years?

Not that she'll have that chance.

She leans over and rests her head on Shinon's shoulder. If he's surprised, he doesn't let on.

*

SHINON.

637-645

646-

Can't remember why he decided to get up and leave but - hey, here he is, leaving. He's done it before and he'll live to do it again. He can't remember, either, exactly how he slipped the perimeter. But here he is, the lights of the Crimean army getting smaller and blurrier behind him with every step. Even this drunk, what's a sentry to him? Ha! Fuckers don't even know. He says to the overcast night sky, "'S right, assholes, I'm the best at what I do."

Grass is all slippery, though. Might've rained. Be too damn funny if he fell over and broke his neck in the dark, after everything. There's people who'd tell you he's overdue for having it broken anyway. People who'd love another chance.

Well, if they wanna come out here, they can fight him for it. He nods to himself. He'll fight whoever.

And then he's -

on the ground. Huh. His wrist hurts, and the side of his knee. He guesses he must've lost his footing and done a shit job catching himself. Great work, ya drunk bastard. Maybe he'll sit here a while.

The wet grass soaks into the tails of his jacket. He tries to remember: was I going someplace? Or just getting the fuck out?

Doesn't matter. He can count on his fingers all the people he's ever actually liked, and mostly these people are dead. So it doesn't matter whether he's got anything else lined up or not. Just needs to get away from that - that giant empty place, and people acting like they don't know. Everything's worse and everything's fucked up. So who needs it.

He thinks, Crimean Liberation Army, my left nut.

"Shinon," someone's saying, in the dark behind him. "Shinon?"

"Who wants to know?"

Careful footsteps coming closer. "It's me." Titania. "I don't think you should be out here alone."

He snorts. "I don't need a damn child-minder." She sits down in the grass next to him - which is stupid. Now she's gonna get soaked too for no good reason. He says, "Maybe - all that time with pwecious widdle Ikey and Misty hanging off your apron strings got you confused. Some of us are big boys and - I can handle myself."

"Can you?" says Titania, with a tone that would probably get his back up if he were thinking clearly enough to recognize it. He considers getting pissed off anyway. Pissed off is easy. She says, "Mist saw you staggering off toward the river and asked me to find you."

"Mist. Ha. Put her on night watch, then, she did better than those other..." He waves back toward the Crimean army picket line. "Those fuckin' pricks."

"They're primarily keeping people out, not in."

"The hell do they know? I could be... on my way to sell our position to Daein."

She says, coldly, "If I believed that, I would kill you."

"Good." He's stopped noticing the damp, so he lies back on his elbows. And then notices again. Ah, hell. Getting kinda chilly out here, too. But Titania's looking at him, so he acts like he doesn't care. "Least one person here's got a brain in their skull."

"I don't think you understood what I said just now," she says, in the same precise and unfriendly voice.

"Ooh," he sneers, "somebody's mad. I'm so scared now."

"Shinon. Listen to me." She's leaning in close, and dangerously quiet. "As much as things have changed, the company Greil built is still here. These are still people who have known you for years. I understand why you left. I was happy to have you back. But if you're only here to be a drain on morale, jerk everyone around, and storm off again, I'd prefer that you go as soon as possible. Get it over with."

"What?" He sits up - maybe too quick - the world is spinning around him. "Hang on. What?"

"Mist sent me because she was worried. She looks up to you. So does Rolf. So does Gatrie."

"And why should I care what a bunch of naive idiots -"

"I don't know," she snaps, "why should you? Let me put this in terms you might actually grasp. If you get hurt, it makes more work for our healers. Gatrie is a walking security risk without you reining him in. Without you watching our flank, our more reckless fighters might leave themselves exposed. If anything happened to you, Rolf would cry for days, which further reduces our effective fighting strength. Does any of this make sense? Can you accept the purely practical reasons anyone might be invested in you? Since the goddess forbid I try to tell you that you have friends here -"

Shinon throws his head back and laughs. A nasty, barking laugh that hurts his throat. There's a fire building in his gut, and he lurches to his feet, so furious it's almost like being sober. "You listen to me." He leans down over her. "I didn't come back here to play happy fucking family. It's a job. I shoot people, I get paid. I'm not picky. I don't remember swearing loyalty to your little pissant General Ike. Your - your whole - merry little band isn't shit to me. So don't talk like -"

Her face is a pale smear he can't read in the weak blurry moonlight. She says, "Then why are you here?"

Then why is he here? "I lost a bet."

"If you care so little, why would you make that bet in the first place?"

Shit. Fuck. Shouldn't have stood up that fast. He's losing his balance, and it's harder to stay focused on - staying this angry. "Piss off." Gonna look like a real dumbass if he falls down again. He stumbles. Catches himself. With all the venom he can muster he says, "You know perfectly goddamn well." He hiccups, and gags, and sways a little, and Titania stands up beside him with one arm out like he needs the support. He says, "You even try and say their names in the same breath, and I'll walk. Fuckin' try me."

She says, "Come on. We'll go back together."

And then he's waking up next morning in the camp, remembering not another thing.

*

ROLF.

645-

No matter how his brothers push him, Rolf insists: "I'm a genius. I'm a natural. I taught it to myself."

Boyd complains to Titania, "It's not like him! He was always such a humble little guy."

Oscar has likely figured it out already, but if Boyd is refusing to notice who their baby brother sounds like, it's not her secret to give away. "Well," she says, "children grow up."

Boyd says, "Aw, BS. Not Rolf. Not yet. Look at him, he's so - Rolf."

She's in complete agreement, but what can she do?

This mystery person who taught Rolf archery, and to expect more of a say in his own life - did he give the boy that script? Or did he only say "don't tell them it was me?" Because Shinon said much the same, years ago, about his own sharpshooting. "Nobody had to teach me. I was born knowing."

Technically it's no longer her concern if his insolence someday gets him killed. Wherever he is now.

No longer her concern, and yet...

Rolf misses a shot in training. "Damn," he says under his breath, like he's trying how it feels in his mouth. But he sees Titania there, and knows she must have heard him, and his eyes go wide and remorseful.

*

BOYD.

644-

A windstorm brings a branch down on the barracks roof. Fortunately no one's in it at the time, but after Boyd and Ike have chopped the branch into manageable pieces and thrown them down, there's a big hole. Boyd's bunk in particular is left open to the air.

"I guess we tack up some oilcloth or something?" he says. "Call a carpenter from town?"

"I'll make the arrangements," Titania says, just as Shinon says, "What, none of you fixed a roof before? Your hands too soft?"

Boyd bristles. "Oh, and you have?"

Shinon idly picks up a fragment of broken shingle. "How many of these do we need? Twenty?"

Titania mentions this to Greil. Greil is unsurprised to hear Shinon's woodworking skills extend in this direction too, and gives him a week.

For a week, Boyd pointedly complains about his temporary cloth ceiling every time Shinon is in earshot. For a week, Shinon rolls his eyes and makes rude gestures and does a little carving every evening. On the next sunny day - Greil happens to be out negotiating a new contract - Shinon asks Titania, sardonically, if she needs to supervise.

Her supervision consists of making idle chitchat from the ground and periodically handing up a skin of water while he finishes the repairs.

He says, "Had to do something like this once when I was a kid. Nine or ten, I think. I almost lost a couple fingers."

"What," she says, "even you used to be clumsy?"

"Nah, it wasn't my fault. Frostbite."

"Oh." After a moment, "Boyd said to thank you. He wasn't sure he could do it himself without starting an argument."

Shinon considers his handiwork. "Yeah, he's probably right."

*

SOREN.

645-663

"Not sorry to see the last of him," Shinon says. "Scrawny little streak of piss."

Soren's is certainly a difficult personality, and, guiltily, Titania has been looking forward to a reprieve. He left for Melior this morning to study; he'll return in a few months' time, or longer if he feels his studies are especially fruitful. Assuming his acid tongue doesn't alienate all possible tutors. "You do realize he'll be back."

"Oh, I know. He'll wanna get back to following Ike around like a moonstruck puppy. And no one else would have him anyway."

"The Commander has a lot of faith in his potential as a tactician -"

"The Commander," Shinon says loftily, "takes in the odd charity case. It's a weakness. I forgive him."

Your prospects weren't too bright when we hired you, either, Titania doesn't point out. You are also, she forbears to say, a giant pain in the ass. She's not even sure why she doesn't say it; it's not like it'd upset him. She says, "The idea is that Soren will someday be formulating our battle plans. We'll need to reconcile ourselves to listening to him, or the investment was pointless."

"Yeah, yeah. He'll run his little plans by Greil. If Greil gives the okay, I'll play along. But I'm not jumping just because Ike's little shadow says so."

"In an emergency -"

"If you signed off on it, I'd probably take that too."

"Well, goodness, thank you," she says sarcastically, and he smiles in the way he only does when he's baited her down to his level.

*

TITANIA.

637-

The stranger says, "You were offered a contract on some thieves working out of that farming village."

"Suppose we were," says Greil. "Do you have information?"

Titania watches the stranger warily. He'd be tall if he stood up straight. His eyes would be sharp if one wasn't nearly swollen shut with the florid bruising that runs down the side of his face and appears to continue under the collar of his ratty jacket. Clearly a man who makes enemies, and if he always talks the way he's been talking, and always barges into places with the assurance he showed entering Greil's base, it's not hard to see why.

He says, "They're getting money and weapons from one of the baron's shithead younger sons. Some fight he's having with one of the shithead older sons. They've built up defenses around the old grain store. Won't be easy drawing 'em out of there."

"We're professionals," Titania says flatly. "I think we'll find a way."

To her surprise Greil holds up a hand to stay her. He asks the stranger, "What is it you're proposing?"

He smirks, and nods to the heavy recurve bow Titania made him leave at the door. "I'm good for at least six of the bastards. Watch me."

"Watch you," Greil says, carefully.

"Yeah." He looks Greil dead in the eye. "And if you don't remember me yet, you will. You need a sniper. I'm the best there is. That simple."

After he's gone she says to Greil, "He's on his own and running from something. He needs us more than we need him. But he seems to know you from somewhere. Your past life, perhaps?"

Greil says, "All of that could very well be." Titania watches him closely, for any sign of recognition, or any apprehension that this mystery sniper might have information that's a threat to him. But he seems remarkably unbothered. "If he can't back all that bluster up with action, it won't matter."

"You want to give him a chance?" says Titania.

Dryly, Greil says, "What if he's right? Would you miss a chance to hire the best sniper in the world?"

Titania snorts. "Fine, I'll keep an eye on him."

Greil claps her on the shoulder. It means no more, and no less, than comradely approval. She hasn't yet reached the point of hoping it will be more. It's early days. She's happy.

On the next day they attack the thieves' stronghold, Greil and Titania and Jovy and Arland - a couple of ex-militiamen who, Titania privately thinks, are not going to work out long-term.

When Titania does catch a glimpse of the stranger, supporting them from a position in the trees, he moves with a languid ease even though he's still visibly beaten to shit. Draw, aim, release. Is he putting on a show, or just accustomed to it? Arrows pelt down like an act of nature. But nature was never so precise.

It's quick work, and when Greil and Titania move to secure the buildings, the sniper descends to examine the dead. He takes longer over it than he would if he were only reclaiming arrows, and when she stops to watch closer she sees him transferring small objects from the corpse's pockets to his own.

Sensing her scrutiny, he looks up. "What?" he says. "I don't work for free."

"You won't," says Greil, back from examining the stable. The young man stands up quickly, eyes wide - and then tries to act like he didn't do that, and wasn't surprised. "Shinon, wasn't it? That was excellent shooting."

That smirk again. "Just like I told you."

If Greil's made his decision, Titania will back it. She asks Shinon, "Do you have any arrangements to make, or can you join us at the base today? We'll set up a contract -"

"No arrangements," he says. "Let's go."

His apparent lack of connections and haste to find a new billet aren't exactly new information, so they shouldn't arouse any new suspicions, anyway. She can't quite place his accent. He walks beside her horse on the way back; as the base comes into view between the trees she finally asks, "Anything we need to know about you?"

"If they see me in Telmu district again they're gonna try and string me up." He lifts his uninjured shoulder in a shrug. "Other than that, I'll go wherever the work is."

Ah. There it is. "On what charges?"

"Poaching."

"And were you in fact poaching?"

He looks up at her flatly. "Yup."

Telmu is the Daein name for a disputed region in the mountains south of Nox – Begnion considers it part of greater Gaddos, and imposes the Imperial levy as such. Neither nation bothers defending it from the other's tax collectors. Nothing about its material situation suggests this is sustainable.

"Well," she says, "you won't be doing anything of the kind as long as you're in Greil's employ."

"Suits me."

It's almost the only time they ever talk about his past.

But suppose the great General Gawain was in Telmu once. Suppose some talented young person needed a way out, and ran off with the army, and years later – well, it's not unthinkable. Some people do inspire that kind of loyalty.

Periodic letters arrive from the Crimean Royal Knights inviting her back to her former position; she answers each with a polite refusal. They're building something here.

*

MIST.

645-

"It's supposed to be a business, not some Ashera-be-damned noble house. Command goes to the most capable person, not whoever comes up next on the family line." As Shinon says this, though, he's gesturing with a skewer of Oscar's roasted potato wedges. So it's probably more a statement of philosophy than an intent to throw a snit and leave again. "The company's yours by rights."

"And if I don't want that?" says Titania. She munches on her own potato skewer, to which Oscar has done marvelous things with salt and celery seed. A perfect match with the cool spring twilight in the woods, and the keg of beer brought up from Caldea. "What if I'm genuinely happiest as second-in-command?"

"Then the reins go to the next toughest motherfucker here. Me, obviously."

She laughs. His eyes narrow, like it wasn't supposed to be that funny. "Shinon, I say this with all the respect in the world: that would be a disaster." He keeps frowning at her. He must see her point, but it still annoys him. "And you wouldn't even like it."

That really annoys him. For a while they keep eating in silence. Finally he says, skeptical, "But... Commander Mist?"

"She's grown up into a fine young woman. And the region is much more stable now." Ike would never have even thought of leaving if it weren't. "She'll have a different approach, but in more peaceful times I think her evenhandedness will be an asset."

Ike is leaving. Shinon is not the person to talk to about the terrible bittersweetness of it all, and for his part he's had the decency to spare her his... whatever he must be feeling. Is he happy?

He says, slowly, "It wouldn't be the worst thing. Working ourselves out of jobs."

"If not fighting, what would you do?"

"I dunno. Something else. I'm a man of many talents." He sips his beer. "Could always just sponge off Gatrie. You?"

"I don't know, either. I suppose I'd go where I was needed."

"That's a shit answer," he says. "Be more selfish."

"What's it matter?" she says. "Neither of us is really going anywhere, I hope. Not for a long time."

They clink mugs. Night settles over Greil's Retreat.