Chapter Text
The battle had started like any other before the accursed mage showed up.
Enkrid had killed sorcerers and mages before- like Ragna had said ages ago, anything alive could be killed with a sword, and so perhaps bolstered by a little too much confidence, he dashed towards them, blade ready.
Unfortunately he realized his mistake too late, as the mage grinned as soon as they made eye contact. Enkrid braced himself for a painful death and a reset, but instead there was simply a blinding flash of light and a deafening boom. His ears rang, and everything went dark.
~*~
Rem saw Enkrid bear the brunt of the mage’s spell and suddenly he was gone. Enkrid was there one moment and then just. Nothing. Empty space.
Ragna and Sachsen’s combined skills took out the mage in seconds, and Rem sprinted to where he’d last seen Enkrid only to find…
He paused and blocked an Azfen soldier’s sword without looking.
Where Enkrid had been standing lay a young child that looked exactly like him, though his usual striking features were softened by baby fat. If he was told it was Enkrid’s younger brother, he would’ve believed it. (At least if Enkrid had any siblings to speak of.)
The child was practically drowning in Enkrid’s clothing and was also out cold. Rem was soon joined by Sachsen and Ragna and they quickly reached a silent agreement. Rem scooped the child up into his arms, oversized clothing, gear, and all, and made his way back to the Naurilian base, flanked by Sachsen and Ragna as he did.
~*~
Enkrid slowly woke up to a furiously whispered conversation that immediately quieted down when he stirred. He opened his eyes to find himself not in his village home, but in an unfamiliar tent, surrounded by even more unfamiliar men. He sat up and found he wasn’t wearing his usual clothes, instead wearing a too-loose shirt that nearly slipped off his shoulders and pants rolled up several times and held together with a belt.
He stared distrustfully from his bed, eyes darting from one face to the next, and tried not to betray his fear. Maybe they were kidnappers or human traffickers, though their demeanors didn’t really seem like it. In fact, they looked even more surprised than him, meeting his gaze with a strange apprehension.
“Cap- er- Enkrid,” one of the unfamiliar men finally said. He had uneven red hair and clever hazel eyes. “Your name is Enkrid, right?”
Enkrid cautiously nodded.
“How much… do you remember?”
That was an unexpected question, Enkrid thought. And he didn’t know what answer they wanted.
“What do you mean, sir?” he hesitantly asked in reply, “Remember what?”
The pink haired stranger grimaced, looking towards the others for help. The stranger with long gray hair and a dark beard spoke up instead. “Do you remember any of us?” he asked.
Enkrid dutifully shook his head no, and the group seemed to deflate. Everything was so strange, he thought. It was like they expected him to know them. It was also curious that they somehow knew his name already. “Where am I?” he asked, clutching at the blankets on his lap instead of voicing his thoughts.
“You’re, uh, at a camp,” the stranger with blond side bangs replied, rubbing uncomfortably at the back of his neck. Enkrid idly wondered how his braids worked.
“What kind of camp?”
“A military camp,” an elf answered as she entered the tent. Enkrid’s gaze immediately snapped towards her, and his eyes widened.
“Oh.”
He’d never seen an elf in real life before, but he recognized the pointed ears immediately. The elf gave him a half smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “No worries, there are no battles coming up, so rest easy and we’ll… get you home soon enough.”
“Okay,” Enkrid replied, looking away from her disconcerting gaze. Something about her made him uncomfortable, like she could see right through him, even though he had nothing to hide. However, upon looking away, he immediately met the eyes of a panther instead. It sat at his bedside, watching him attentively with bright blue eyes, and he wondered how he hadn’t noticed it before. Automatically reaching out a hand with something like muscle memory, he patted it on the head. The panther purred, and Enkrid smiled.
~*~
Krais watched in fascination as Enkrid genuinely grinned while petting Esther. It seemed like she still recognized Enkrid as Enkrid, which further solidified the kid Enkrid was actually Enkrid. Animals had a better sense for that kind of thing, after all.
On another note, Enkrid’s adult self had seldom smiled, and when he did, it was in battle or when he was learning a new way to get stronger. This smile felt almost too innocent – untainted by the harsh experiences his adult self had gone through.
Thankfully, the young Enkrid slowly warmed up to them when he finally concluded they weren’t kidnappers of some sort. The military uniforms and flags seemed to help in that aspect.
~*~
“Sir!” Ragna heard a young voice call behind him. He ignored it. It was probably some stable hand trying to get the attention of a platoon leader or something, he thought as he casually made his way to one of his secret napping spots. However, the rapid footsteps approaching him didn’t stop, nor did they slow down.
“Sir!”
Ragna turned to see who was yelling. Surely it couldn’t be addressed to him? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been called that.
Then he recognized the black hair and blue eyes and Ragna immediately halted, letting the child catch up.
“Sir-” Enkrid panted, trying to catch his breath. “I had a question!”
“Yeah?”
“Krais said I could learn swordsmanship from you!” Enkrid looked up at him with big eyes, “Is it true? Could you teach me?”
Ragna mentally cursed Krais but looked down at the big puppy eyes and almost immediately caved. “Sure,” he said. Dammit, there went his nap. And probably all of his naps in the near future until they figured out the nature of the enchantment. But it was almost worth it with how Enkrid lit up.
“Let’s get you started on the fundamentals,” he sighed, hoisting his sword to rest on his shoulders, and Enkrid eagerly trotted behind him.
~*~
“What are you doing?”
Sachsen looked up from his whittling to find Enkrid’s face inches from his own.
“Whittling,” he replied, returning his attention to his mini project.
“Whittling what?”
Sachsen briefly closed his eyes, wondering how this kid and his taciturn captain managed to be the same person.
“I’m whittling-” Sachsen paused. He couldn’t exactly say he was whittling an adult Enkrid, could he-? “Someone I admire.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie.
“Woah, cool.” Enkrid replied with earnest enthusiasm, “Who is it? I think I’d whittle something of my father if I could. Is it your father?”
Sachsen hesitated again, longer this time because his memories of his father weren’t the most pleasant. He settled on avoiding the question altogether. “No, but this person- he’s a lot like you, actually.” Another technical truth.
“Really?!” Enkrid’s young face lit up with childish excitement, and Sachsen’s heart twinged with an emotion approaching sorrow. He stomped the feeling down like it was a small fire.
“Yes. I’m sure you’ll grow up to be like him one day,” Sachsen replied awkwardly, tone stilted. Gods, how did one talk to children?
~*~
“What do your tattoos mean, Mister Rem?”
“Why am I ‘mister?’” Rem complained, scratching his head with the handle of his axe. “Don’t you call everyone else ‘sir?’”
Enkrid’s expression didn’t change, and his head tilted ever so slightly in the only outward show of his confusion, a motion startlingly similar to his adult self. “It’s ‘cause you’re the oldest, Mister Rem,” he replied matter-of-factly. “You don’t look that old but you have gray hair like the village elders.”
Ragna snorted.
“My mother said to always treat elders with respect,” Enkrid continued to intone with an authoritative air, and Sachsen made an odd coughing noise that he quickly stifled behind his scarf.
Rem shot a glare at both of them, and they simply ignored the silent threat. Bastards. Enkrid, meanwhile, observed with puzzlement, and Krais, overhearing the conversation from a distance, winced. It seemed that the younger Enkrid had even less of a filter than his adult self.
~*~
“I can cook,” Enkrid declared out of the blue to Audin, who was making dinner.
“Is that so, Young Brother Enkrid?” Audin replied with an indulgent smile. “What do you know how to cook?”
“I can make bread, soup, porridge-” Enkrid counted out on his fingers. “And I was learning how to make cheeses from some traveling monks before I ended up here.”
“Traveling monks?” Audin asked.
“Mhm! They called themselves fries or something.”
“Ah, I believe you mean friars.”
“Oh, that’s what they’re called. Friars. Got it.”
Enkrid hopped onto a crate and leaned forward over the table, watching Audin chop vegetables. After some time, Audin let him help with peeling some of them.
“So.” Enkrid continued after a stretch of pleasant quiet and ingredient prep. The sun was starting to set, and the stew was slowly building to a simmer over the campfire. “Do you know any fries?”
“Friars?”
“Yeah those.” Enkrid sat back on the crate and kicked his feet in an uneven rhythm.
“I used to,” Audin replied, choosing his words carefully. “I was friends with some, but we haven’t talked in a long time.”
“I see,” Enkrid replied sleepily. “D’you think you’ll see ‘em again?”
“Perhaps, if God wills it.”
~*~
Venzens liked to think he’d seen it all. Apparently he hadn’t.
He’d been on his way to ask Enkrid about some training pointers but instead found a kid that strongly resembled him napping in Rem’s lap. The death glares he received from the madmen strongly implied that if he woke the kid he’d never walk again.
Venzens connected some (wrong) dots and very cautiously backed away. He valued his life, thank you very much, and he hurried away, mind spinning with (incorrectly) drawn conclusions.
~*~
Shinar later told the platoon that they were able to figure out the spell. Apparently it was temporary, generally lasting for a week at most.
~*~
Enkrid woke up with the worst headache of his life. He wasn’t usually one to drink, but he was pretty certain that this was what a hangover felt like.
“What the hell?” he tried to say, mouth dry as a desert. The words came out in half-syllables. The last he’d remembered was being on a battlefield and then… that was about where his memories stopped. Had he passed out from whatever spell the mage had cast? That seemed like the most logical answer.
The tent flapped open, and Rem stepped through, giving him a glance before perking up.
“Captain, you’re back!”
What a weird thing to say.
“What do you mean by that?” Enkrid asked, attempting to massage the headache away to no avail.
Rem smirked, and Enkrid really didn’t like that look on his face. Something was up, and he had the feeling he was the butt of the joke. “Your mother said to treat your elders with respect, huh?”
“What-”
“Oh, captain, you’re back!” Krais stepped into the tent.
“It is good to see you again, Brother.” Audin entered as well.
“Seriously, what’s this all about?” Enkrid asked, feeling increasingly bewildered.
Sachsen stepped into the tent then, and seemed to take pity on him, explaining what had happened in the week-long gap in his memory in his usual succinct manner.
By the time Sachsen finished talking, the rest of the platoon was in the tent, and Enkrid’s ears were flushed pink. He buried his face in his hands. “Any chance you could wipe that from your memories?”
He received a resounding no, and he accepted his fate: of being teased to hell and back about it. Oh well, he supposed it could be worse.