"Morgan, RUN!" A man screamed before the sound of steel tearing through clothing and flesh accompanied a cry of pain. Morgan didn't bother to look behind him to see who it was, all he did was run, just like the man had told him to. All around him, collapsed wood was burning to charcoal, the flames only rising higher and higher. What were once regal Ylissean banners were now only reminders of how fragile everything in the outpost truly was. The dark stone walls were scalding to the touch; he had learned that the hard way earlier when a Risen had shoved him against one, singeing the back of his cloak, and his own back with it. A nasty cut ran down his cheek, blood sliding down from it and onto his chin, where it dripped onto his already bloodstained cloak. His dark black, slightly purple hair, already quite messy normally, was now all over the place, not helped by the ash that had begun to coat and settle onto his scalp.
Morgan was out of breath, but pure adrenaline pushed him forward despite this, forcing him down the halls. Despite having walked in them extensively and memorizing them as a result (a perk of having spent the last few months there), that crucial bit of memory eluded him, much to his frustration. So, he simply decided on the fly which direction to take. Left, right, forward, down a flight of stairs, left again. He felt like he was going in circles, and for all he knew, he was. All around him he could hear the groans of Risen, the clashing of weapons, but what got to him the most were the screams of the people. They were all fighting, and he was running. He was such a coward! Suddenly, Morgan found himself at a dead end; or more specifically, a balcony three stories above the ground. If he were to jump with nothing helping break his fall, he would surely break his legs at the very least. If only he had his satchel with him; he could've used one of his wind tomes to help break his fall! His regret didn't last long however, as something else quickly drew his attention. Below him and in the distance, the town that the outpost was meant to protect was up in flames. He saw Risen swarming the streets, chasing down anyone they could find. He knew what was destined to happen to anyone who was caught by them, and found himself feeling sick as the image appeared in his head. He reacted by covering his mouth, slumping down to the wall of the archway connecting the balcony to the building proper, clutching his stomach with his other hand. He had lost. The Risen would find him in no time, and he would suffer the same fate as those in the village below. He would die here. He would never see his friends, his crush who he never could work up the damn courage to confess to...
As Morgan's attempts at deep breaths began to devolve into panicked hyperventilation, a voice began to speak to him, powerful and intimidating, yet soothing and inviting. "Morgan. Do not fear me. Do not fear my army. If you give yourself up to me, I promise you a place at my side." Morgan shook his head furiously, covering his ears in a useless attempt to silence the voice ringing through his mind. No, he wasn't going to work with that thing! He didn't care what it looked like, or what it sounded like, or the way it called his name just like she did, he wouldn't fall for it! "Come now, I know you don't wish to die. Come to my arms, accept my embrace. Your mother is waiting."
Morgan gasped loudly, sitting up from his bed, panting heavily, as if he had just run a marathon. Sweat drenched his body, reacting harshly to the cold night air around him. He moved his hand up to his forehead, running his fingers through his messy hair. For the most part, the memory of his dream had faded. All that Morgan could recall were the crackling of flames and the intense, burning heat that accompanied them. However, even that small snippet of remaining memory ensured that he would have a tough time falling back asleep. After a short while of attempting and failing to do just that, Morgan gave up and got out of bed, wearing a rather plain gray nightgown. He didn't care who said they were for girls, he found them comfortable. He blushed from embarrassment, remembering all the times that the others would playfully tease him over his choice of bedclothes.
Morgan tried to find something to read in his room for a while, but it was no use. None of his favorite books, like The Tales of Sir Tyrrian, or even his mother's old strategy book, which normally provided him with much-needed comfort in stressful situations, could help him sleep at this point. Finally, he decided to go out for a stroll in the halls. Growing up in the Ylissean royal palace afforded him the comfort of a nightly stroll without the worry of encountering a wild animal or a brigand, something he knew most of Ylisse didn't share the privilege of. Of course, that didn't mean that the halls were swarming with guards. Far from it, in fact; he had noticed the number of guards going down as he grew up, likely the result of tensions from the wars Ylisse fought before his birth fading overtime. He knew tensions with Plegia were still present, however. As unfortunate as it was, it was only natural. The two countries, as well as, and because of worshiping beings who were seen as polar opposites, had engaged in bloody conflicts that were still recent enough to bear significance.
Ylisse's significant power and reputation was another reason why guards were more lax than one would expect in a royal palace. After all, in their first war, whilst it ended with the death of Exalt Chrom's tyrannical father, the former leader of Ylisse, the damage to Plegia was still immense. And in the second conflict, former Plegian king Gangrel was killed and the Grimleal, the cornerstone of Plegia's religious sect, were practically wiped out after their attempt to revive the Fell Dragon Grima, their holy figure. Morgan shuddered at the thought, remembering hearing the story of how they intended on doing it. His mother, the Ylissean royal tactician, Robin, was actually a Plegian, born with the purpose of serving as a vessel to the Fell Dragon. However, it was said that her mother smuggled her out of the country and to Ylisse. What happened to her mother was unknown, as her mother was never heard from again, with Robin being found by Exalt Chrom, back then a prince, without any memory of her past. And of course, with the Grimleal gone, it was doubtful there were any alive who knew of Robin's secretive upbringing. At some point during Robin's days in the Shepherds, Ylisse's elite military force, she was kidnapped by the Grimleal in a last-ditch effort to revive Grima. However, the Shepherds were able to locate and stop the ritual, saving her from a fate worse than death. Of course, the reasons that truly made him grimace whenever recalling this story was that his father, Frederick, died in the battle, and that Robin was pregnant with Morgan at the time.
Morgan's mind was taken off the subject of the Grimleal as he passed by his mother's room, noticing light shining from the crack underneath. He approached out of curiosity, stopping in front of it as he heard voices from within. The first sounded male, likely a soldier or guard, with the second clearly belonging to Robin. Morgan couldn't resist the opportunity to snoop, and found himself holding his ear to the door, breathing quietly.
"-could be bandits, but the signs point to something far more organized. We were intending to just let the local soldiers handle it, but then we got a more disturbing report." The unknown man spoke officially, helping lend credence to Morgan's theory of him being a soldier or guard. "There was a man spotted in the local village, wearing the robes of a Plegian dark mage. An older design too, often worn by the Grimleal." Morgan found himself growing more curious by the second, though the mention of the Grimleal made him a bit wary. He had to admit, it was a tad bit hypocritical since he wore a similar cloak. However, he considered it different, due to it being a gift; his mother's old robes, passed down to him on his birthday a few years prior. To him, they were a representation of the bond he and his mother shared, not of the Fell Dragon.
The room was silent for a short moment before Robin spoke. "I see. I'll go investigate the claims." The man tried to protest, though Robin calmed his fears. "Don't worry, I'm not going alone. I already know who I'll bring with me. However, a matter like this can't be solved with a band of soldiers. It will require a more stealthy approach in order to catch this mystery man." The man didn't sound as against the idea once Robin explained it in that way. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention." Robin said, spurring Morgan to quickly and quietly leave before the man could leave and catch him. His curiosity clashed with his cautiousness as he imagined why there could be someone wearing such robes in some village, brazenly enough to be spotted and reported on. He wasn't naive, he knew the Grimleal remained in some form, but they should have been operating in the shadows. Even as he got in his bed, his head with still spinning with possibilities. However, eventually he was able to fall back asleep.
Morgan certainly didn't expect to receive another rude awakening. Not even a few hours later, with the sun barely cracking over the horizon, Morgan was woken up by the sound of his mother's voice. "Hey, Morgan, rise and shine," Robin spoke softly. She looked down at him, her snowy white hair tied into its usual style of two pigtails. She was already in her Grandmaster's uniform, the one that was gifted to her by Exalt Chrom after the defeat of Gangrel years ago. One of the perks of being the tactician was that whilst her name was well known, how she looked was not. It allowed her to wear her uniform without drawing too much attention, which gave her much better protection in fights, especially against magic. Morgan grumbled, slowly getting up from his bed as he tried to keep his heavy eyes fully open. "Time for some training!" She declared, inciting a much louder grumble from her son. Robin sprang these on Morgan every now and then; "training" missions designed to help Morgan improve in some aspect of tactics or combat. And she always made sure he was completely unaware. He never knew how she was able to consistently plan and prepare them without him discovering her plans, especially since he was usually so good at catching these types of things. His friends hadn't been able to pull off a surprise party for him since he was ten.
After a brief argument with his mother on whether he really had to go to whatever place she intended to drag him off to (he did), Morgan dressed into his cloak, brushing it off just in case any dust had settled on it overnight. Some might have called the way he treated his cloak "obsessive", however he simply liked to think that he took extra good care of it in comparison to most people. As a result, whilst the armor and clothing of many of his friends had worn and torn over the years, resulting in repairs and even new outfits on rare occasion, Morgan had worn the same cloak with minimal repairs needed for years. When repairs and fixes were needed, he made sure he only went to the best, so the original look remained intact. "So, where are we going this time?" Morgan asked grumpily, grabbing his satchel from a wooden table in the corner of his room, containing a few spell tomes as well as the book of strategies that his mother had gifted him.
"While you're talented in strategy and combat Morgan, one thing I've found you've struggled in is subterfuge. The art of deception, manipulation, and most importantly, stealth. You're bad at all three." Robin bluntly stated. As much as Morgan wanted to argue against that, he knew she was right. Aside from being able to walk fairly softly and keep his breathing quiet, Morgan was as stealthy as a Risen in most situations. "So, I'll be taking you on a mission with me. It'll be just the two of us. Your job will be to monitor a small town and keep an eye and ear out for anything suspicious and report it back to me." Robin informed. Morgan asked what he should keep an eye out for. "Activity that may belong to brigands in disguise, as well as other unsavory parties." Morgan tried to hide his surprise as he pieced together what was going on. This was the village he had heard his mother discussing. She likely was intending to also teach him how to deal with surprise, since he normally would never expect to encounter someone in the outfit he had heard about. "Pack some clothes; you'll need an outfit that you can use to blend in more easily." Morgan sighed upon hearing that, knowing his mother was right yet again. His normal cloak wouldn't do him much good in terms of reconnaissance. Robin left the room after letting Morgan know she expected him to be ready in a half an hour.
Once Morgan had changed out of his cloak and into a standard tunic, packing the cloak into a bag along with a few backup tomes just in case, he headed out of the palace, where his mother waited, alone. "We won't be using horses?" Morgan asked, confused as to why there were no steeds nearby they could ride on. He wasn't anywhere near good enough on a horse to be a cavalier like others, but he was competent enough to prefer them for long-distance travel.
"The village isn't far," Robin explained to Morgan. "We'll make it there in a few days' time if we don't stop for distractions. Plus, it'll help exercise the legs. I remember when I was first with the Shepherds, why we needed to walk everywhere, all the time…" Robin began to reminisce, something with Morgan had always loved to hear from her, until a few years ago where it had finally started to grate on him. Maybe it was just puberty having done its worst to his outlook on things he enjoyed as a child, or maybe it was just that she didn't have very many stories that she hadn't already told him numerous times before. Morgan quickly changed the subject to the weather as they set off, knowing how long Robin could end up making these stories last.
It was a rather annoying three days of trudging through the Ylissean wilderness during some of the worst summer heats. Morgan had to admit however that the heat did make him glad he wasn't wearing his cloak at the time, as he could only imagine how much he'd be suffering if he had been. Robin seemed to be perfectly fine, even in her similarly dark robes. He never could figure out how his mother was so good at withstanding that sort of stuff, aside from natural experience gained from being a Shepherd for almost two decades. As much as he would gripe whenever his mother brought him on one of these training missions, Morgan greatly admired her nonetheless. He was always rather shy about admitting it, but he had dreamed of becoming a great tactician, just like her. One of the downsides to a dream like that, however, was that there wasn't nearly as much of a need for a great tactician during peacetime. Even Robin herself mainly oversaw taking care of groups of brigands like the ones nearby the town they were visiting. Morgan was by no means hoping for a large-scale conflict to give him the opportunity to shine, but he'd be lying if he didn't at least wish for some kind of opportunity to present itself.
Robin and Morgan arrived at the village of Grei during the early morning, after a rather short night's rest. Morgan would've much rather rested the entire day and started the mission the day after, but Robin would not have it. She ordered Morgan to get started immediately while she would check in at a local inn, taking their packed items with her. Once he found something important, he would go to their room, relay the information, and wait for further instructions. As exhausted as Morgan was, the idea of undercover work was admittedly thrilling for him. He felt like he was some secretive rogue, one step behind danger at every turn. Of course, that fantasy quickly dissolved as he realized the real reason why spy novels were always so exciting, that being how they always got rid of all the boring parts of the job. Morgan spent hours simply wandering around the village, listening to random, meaningless conversation from the locals. Nobody there looked out of place whatsoever, and every time Morgan thought to ask around about the dark cloaked mystery man, he realized that all he would get was weird looks and the chance to be found by his own target. By lunchtime, Morgan was no better off in terms of finding someone, and even worse, he was rather hungry. He had given his satchel to his mother, which rather unfortunately contained all of his money. He couldn't believe he had forgotten to take some out to take with him! As he was walking through the city streets, he stopped in front of a small bakery, unable to help himself from walking up to the front of the store and looking in through the window. All of those sandwiches and pastries looked absolutely delicious, making his stomach grumble and growl.
Morgan tensed up as he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. "Let me guess; you're starving, but your pockets are empty?" A feminine voice asked. Morgan turned around to face the woman and froze up. In front of him was a girl that must've been around his age. Soft, friendly purple eyes and dark, purple-tinted hair matched her pale, soft complexion to create a face that Morgan could find himself easily trusting. And he would've trusted someone like her, had she not been wearing a dark black cloak with a hood covering most of her head. A cloak with an all-too-familiar pattern running across it. Morgan wasn't sure what scared him more; that the girl's cloak was almost certainly the one worn by the mystery man, or that it looked identical to his own. The girl noticed the fear present on his face and tilted her head. "You okay there? You look like you've seen a ghost. Don't worry, I don't bite." She innocently giggled, fishing around in her cloak's pockets until she pulled out a sack of coins. "You remind me of someone I know…I think." She seemed to pause for a second, lost in thought, before she tossed the sack of coins at him. Morgan clumsily caught the sack, looking down at it, then back up at the girl. "My treat." She gave a grin that only served to instill Morgan with worry, whether that was the intent or not. She turned around and began walking off, only to stop and turn her head, still smiling under her hood. "My name's Morgan, by the way. It was a pleasure to meet you! Maybe we'll meet again. I certainly wouldn't mind." She giggled, facing back in front of her and walking off, leaving Morgan standing there, trying to process what had just happened.
After a few seconds, Morgan took off in the opposite direction, heading to the inn to tell Robin about what he had just witnessed. He still couldn't believe it! The very person he was looking for walked right up to him and had a conversation with him! Nevermind that he didn't even say a word back, that was irrelevant. What mattered is that he got a face and a name. Morgan. What a strange coincidence that they had the same name. And the same cloak. Come to think of it, their eye and hair colors were eerily similar as well. He shook his head; he couldn't dwell on that, not until he told Robin. He arrived at the inn, rushing inside without even looking back. Maybe if he had, he might've spotted that same girl standing across the street, watching him as he ran in. He hurriedly asked the innkeeper where Robin was staying, explaining he was her son. "Second floor, very last door at the end of the hall." The gruff-looking man answered. Morgan thanked him before running up the flight of stairs in the hallway, sprinting down to the end of the hall and knocking on the door to the room rather loudly. After a few seconds of knocking, Robin answered the door, still in her Grandmaster's outfit.
"Morgan, what's wrong? You look like you just ran a marathon, what happened?" Robin asked in concern as Morgan panted, catching his breath. Robin took a few steps back, allowing Morgan to walk in. He wasted no time beginning to explain, though he found trouble figuring out where to even start, leading to the stream of information getting rather mixed up.
"Mom, I found the man in the cloak!" Morgan began, forgetting in the moment that Robin had never actually told him about the cloak, and that he only knew as a result of his snooping. "Well, he actually found me, and he is actually a she, but the point is—" Morgan began to explain to Robin, who was giving him her complete, undivided attention. Unfortunately, that just meant neither of them noticed the person standing in the doorway.
"There you are." Morgan recognized that voice. A chill ran down his spine as he and his mother looked over at the doorway. Sure enough, there was the same hooded girl from earlier. Morgan had led her right to Robin. How could he have been so stupid!? The girl moved her hands up, grabbing her hood and pulling it down, revealing the entirety of her rather messy hair, as well as further illuminating her face. While a bit longer, her hair was remarkably similar to Morgan's, even covering the part of her forehead just above her nose, similar to his own. Morgan didn't have time to contemplate on this however, as he realized the girl wasn't talking to him. She was talking to Robin. "I hoped I'd be able to find you." She was smiling, though it didn't seem to carry any malice behind it. Her happiness looked completely genuine. What surprised Morgan the most, however, was when the girl began to tear up, sniffing as she only looked even more glad.
"I missed you so much…I'm so happy to see you again!" Suddenly, the girl ran forward, pushing past Morgan and wrapping her arms tight around the tactician. Morgan could only stand there in shocked silence as the girl spoke one last word before bursting into tears, sobbing into Robin's cloak.
"…Mom…"