[apt 1, room 10]
It hadn't taken too much effort to lug his belongings to his room. His physical fitness aside, Chrom had never been the prince who had been overly concerned about luxuries and embellishments. None of the siblings were. It was difficult to care about gold and glitter while their people starved on their father's account. If the Ylisseans would condemn Emmeryn with such vigor while she had worked so tirelessly on their behalf, then Chrom could hardly imagine what they would think if Emmeryn had indulged in the things that were appropriate to her station.
In a way, she had given him this freedom, hadn't she? While Emmeryn sat on the throne, Chrom was free to become his own person. He tried to help his sister in whatever way that he could, but it came with none of the nation's expectations. Here in Hajime, Chrom had even less to contend with. There is no weight in his footsteps except for what he chooses to put forward.
It's more than he needs, but it is nice that his apartment is well provided for. He is pleased to see that the room even contains a stand for his sword (he does not realize that it is actually a very stylized umbrella stand). He mounts Falchion first before unpacking everything else. The only posessions besides the sword were his clothes, the shoulder guard, and a love letter that smelled of ash. He can barely make out the faded words, but he treasures it all the same. Better to love a wife that he cannot remember than to never have loved at all.
There is a knock on the door, but Chrom had never locked it. "Come in." He rises to his feet, in case it was somebody untoward. "How can I help you?"
