[ Despite the addition of the supplies handed out before their journey, none of it prepares Frederick for the rough landing that awaits him and the sense of helplessness that coils sickeningly in the pit of his stomach. Risen he can handle, a battlefield of Plegian soldiers is just a day's work, but this? Sailing through the air with nothing for him to do but grip his lance until his knuckles are white?

This strikes real fear into him.

They land in a haze of water and fire and debris, and as it turns out, wearing a full suit of armor is entirely the wrong preparation for crashlanding into a large body of water. For one, his entire body's now covered in bruises, and for another? Making his way back to land sure is difficult.

So there he is, a large man in an even larger suit of armor splashing around helplessly in the water. Someone please lend him a hand before he dies via drowning. ]

[ Eventually, despite the water, despite the vultures, despite the long arduous journey with not nearly enough rest (that last part, at least, is near and dearly familiar to his heart), he finds himself at the doors of the great nation of Olympia.

There's just one catch: they're not exactly letting many people in.

Frederick watches with a deep frown on his face, unhappy with the way the guards at the gate are handling the whole mess. They're obviously innocent of whatever accusations are being leveled towards them, surely with enough talk they can clear up whatever misunderstandings are in the air. ]

Are you certain we cannot simply tell them the truth?

[ IT SEEMS SO WRONG TO HAVE TO FALSIFY THEIR WAY IN..... ]

[ Somehow, he's found himself on stage, despite his most fervent protests of not having any time and of the stage being far too dirty and cluttered for any proper stage play to be held. (That's probably what got him up there in the first place. They've stuffed him into a loose shirt and vest, topped his head with a frilly hat, and immediately pushed him out forward with only a single tip: he's to be the villain, rushing in to try and take the lady away from the dashing hero, only to be challenged to a duel and die in a crushing defeat.

(Deep down, he's glad neither Lord Chrom nor Lady Lissa have yet awoken. He would never live this down if either of the two were awake.)

Clearing his throat, he stares down at the paper tucked half in one sleeve, and does his best to recite his line, with all the emotion of a withered potato. ]

I would rather die before I allow this man to take you as his wife.

[ The crowd begins to boo. ]

[ I'll be absent all of next month due to travel, hence the limit on the number of threads I'll be taking on. If we made plans on the CR meme and you aren't able to grab a spot, shoot me a message and I'll be happy to work something out with you! ]