I don't own Fire Emblem. If I owned Fire Emblem, you wouldn't need a ROM and a Japanese cartridge to play FE6 in the United States. I would have released the damn thing in English.

A Change of Heart

Mark moved silently through his deceptively tranquil encampment in the mountains of Bern. It was late, and most of Eliwood's Elite forces were out cold. Mark couldn't blame them. They had battled the Black Fang in the halls Prince Zephiel's manse through the wee hours of the morning. Now, for all their efforts and exertions, the army was just plain exhausted. In the hours before dawn only three men remained awake. One was the aforementioned tactician Mark, commander of the small army. While his soldiers slumbered, Mark made his way to the command tent where, by the waning light of his lantern, he could just make out the silhouettes of the other two men. One was muscular and heavily armored. His silhouette appeared tall and proud. The other was comparatively small and lithe. He wore no armor, only an ornamental black cape and hood. His silhouette appeared chained and broken.

Oswin tapped the butt of his lance against the ground and gave a crisp salute as his tactician entered the command tent. "Stand down Oswin," said Mark. "I would have words with our new prisoner. Alone."

"I beg your pardon milord, but I can not allow that. Lord Hector insists that the assassin remain guarded at all times."

Mark pinned Oswin with one of his no-nonsense glares. "Lord Hector does not command this army. I do," he said sternly. "Stand down. Now. That's an order."

Beneath that withering gaze, not even brave Sir Oswin dared oppose the tactician. The mighty general bowed, mumbled his apologies, and removed himself from the tent. Mark was now alone with Oswin's charge; the Angel of Death, Jaffar.

Mark turned to face the chained assassin. Jaffar had offered no resistance when Lord Hector ordered his imprisonment. He simply stated that he would not draw his blade unless ordered to do so and allowed himself to be chained down in the command tent. For a while the two men simply stared at each other, sizing each other up, taking mental notes on the other's strengths and weaknesses. Jaffar noted a confidence in the tactician's stride that belied his frail body. Mark noted a haunted look in the assassin's eyes that belied his reputation. This went on for several minutes before Mark broke the silence.

"Your fate has not yet been decided, assassin," Mark began evenhandedly. "Eliwood would forgive your sins and ask for your aid in the coming battles against Nergal. Hector would drag you back to Lycia in shackles and have you executed for crimes against the state." Mark drew closer do the Angel of Death. "However, as I believe I just demonstrated in no uncertain terms, Eliwood and Hector do not command this army. I do. Ultimately, your fate rests in my hands." Mark stopped inches in front of Jaffar's face and stared the assassin down. Jaffar met the tacticians gaze with his own. His face was expressionless, his features completely devoid of human emotion. Or so he thought. But once again, Jaffar's eyes betrayed his inner thoughts to the perceptive tactician. Mark was sure of it this time; Jaffar gazed upon him with the eyes of a haunted man.

Then, the tactician did the last thing Jaffar expected. He pulled a small key from one of the many pockets in his green cloak and freed him from his shackles. Then, he backed away and sat down at the round table in the center of his tent. "Take a seat Jaffar. We have much to discuss."

Jaffar regarded the tactician's good will with a great deal of skepticism. "You are too quick to trust the goodwill of an enemy," said the assassin. "You cast away your guards and free the Angel of Death. Do you not fear for your own life?"

Mark ignored the thinly veiled threat. "Don't kid yourself Jaffar. You won't try anything funny while Nino is in our custody, and I chose to believe I would be safe in your presence even without that little piece of insurance. Now please, be seated."

Reluctantly, the Angel of Death obeyed.

"If you wish to remain in my good graces, answer these questions truthfully and to the best of your ability. If you are to be a part of this army, I must know your heart and mind. Jaffar, why did you betray the Black Fang?"

"I didn't betray the Black Fang. I betrayed Nergal."

"Don't toy with semantics assassin, answer my question. You betrayed your master. Why?"

"I received an order I could not obey in good conscious."

"You refused a direct order from Nergal, and you still draw breath? Explain yourself."

"It wasn't a direct order. Nergal never gives direct orders to humans. He uses his morphs to deliver commands. When dealing with the Black Fang he usually sends Sonia to make his wishes known. Occasionally he'll send orders through Ephidel or Limstella."

Mark pondered Jaffar's last response. It corroborated the information he had gained through his own intelligence, which had identified Sonia as the leading figure in Nergal's ongoing efforts to manipulate the Black Fang. Ephidel's instigating role in attempts to rebel against Ostia also fit in quite nicely with the assassin's information. Jaffar appeared to be telling the truth, or at least part of the truth. It looked as though the Angel of Death would be able to provide some reliable intelligence on Nergal and his minions.

"I'm familiar with two of the figures you just mentioned, Jaffar. Sonia and Ephidel appear frequently in my intelligence briefings, although I believe Ephidel has been dead for quite some time now. Still, I have never heard of this Limstella. What role does she play in Nergal's operations?"

"Limstella is Nergal's right hand. She is his strongest morph, far stronger than any of the construct's you've encountered thus far."

"Stronger than Ephidel and Sonia?" Mark asked.

Jaffar nodded. "Definitely. I've never actually seen any of them in combat situations, but I can tell by the way Nergal addresses them. Nergal believes power is all that matters. He treats his strongest construct as though she is a work of perfection. His other creations are but shadows."

"Interesting," Mark mused. "What else can you tell me about her?"

Jaffar thought for a moment, then told Mark every relevant piece of information that came to mind. "For starters, she's a sage. Her weapons of choice are Fimulvetr and Bolting, but she also has the ability to slay her foes by stealing their quintessence."

"Do all morphs have that ability?"

"No. To the best of my knowledge, Limstella is the only one. Nergal gives his creations abilities to match their function. Sonia was designed for seduction. Ephidel was designed for corruption. Limstella was designed for harvesting quintessence.

Mark scribbled down a few notes as Jaffar spoke. When he was done, he rose from the table and filed his latest piece of intelligence in the command center's main war chest. Then he returned to his seat and steered his interrogation towards a new topic. "Very good Jaffar, but you still haven't answered my original question. Why did you betray Nergal?"

"I told you, I received an order I could not obey in good conscious."

"If our positions were reversed and you were interrogating me, would you find that answer acceptable?"

Jaffar said nothing.

"You're being evasive. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were trying to hide something."

"…I really don't want to talk about this."

"Jaffar, please understand. I'm not doing this to pry. I need to know where you true loyalties lie. If I can not trust you, I will be forced to side with Lord Hector in this dispute. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Again, Jaffar said nothing.

"Would you?" Mark prodded.

Jaffar looked Mark straight in the eye. For the third time that night, Mark saw the haunted gaze that had first convinced him to trust the assassin's goodwill and free him from his bindings.

"…Very well. I will tell you what you want to know. The prince of Bern wasn't my only target tonight. Sonia made it known in no uncertain terms we would need a scapegoat."

Jaffar didn't need to finish his explanation. Mark put the pieces together right then and there. It made sense; why else would the girl have been sent on such an important mission. If he had been a Black Fang tactician, he probably would have given the same command. "Sonia ordered you to kill Nino."

Jaffar nodded grimly. "I couldn't bring myself to do it. Nergal trained me to be nothing more than a killing machine. I had no emotions. I had no free will. I heard, I obeyed, I killed. That was all. I never questioned an order in my entire life. Nergal raised me to believe that he was a deity. To question his will was to question the will of the Gods. When I was killing faceless targets, I believed his lies. But Nino…she was so young, so innocent. She didn't deserve death. She didn't deserve any of this."

"I could say the same about many of your victims, Jaffar." Mark's words were laced with venom. "Leila was young and innocent. She didn't deserve death, but you stole her life anyway, didn't you?"

Jaffar hung his head in shame. "Back then, I knew not what I did. I believed the lie. Nergal was God. Whatever he ordained must come to pass. When Sonia ordered me to kill Nino and told me the orders came from Lord Nergal himself, the illusion was dispelled. For the first time, I saw Nergal for what he truly was. He's no deity. He's a demon from hell, a monster who takes the lives of others so that he can prolong his own wretched existence. I…I can't live like that anymore. Now that I've seen his true colors, I can never serve that madman again."

Mark was satisfied with that answer, but he wasn't quite done with the Angel of Death. Not yet, not until the tactician had spoken his mind.

"Tell me Jaffar, when you killed Leila, what was it that ended her life; the weapon that slit her throat or the assassin who wielded it?"

Jaffar thought about it, and then answered "the assassin."

"Why?"

"…because the dagger does not move on its own. It is an impotent weapon but for the hand that wields it."

"Very good," said Mark. "Now ask yourself, who was the blade and who was the hand? You claim you had no freewill. By your own logic, you were nothing more than an extension of your blade. Who was the hand who wielded that wielded that blade?"

"Nergal," Jaffar whispered with a trace of bitterness and regret in his voice. He made no attempt to hide his emotion this time. Mark had broken that barrier.

"A few moment's ago I would have disagreed. I would have placed the blame squarely at your feet. Now I'm not so sure. You see Jaffar, I always trust my gut. And right now my gut is telling me that you are a good man. As a child you were raised by a madman and robbed of your freewill, thus I can not hold you accountable for your past actions. However, now that Nergal's hold is broken and your freewill is restored, I can charge you with the responsibility of atoning for your past sins. Jaffar, I would have you join our ranks."

"Forget it; the others would never accept me. I would be a drain on your army's morale."

"I command this army Jaffar. They will accept you because I will order them to do so. No one disobeys me. I even have the perfect partner for you. You ever heard of a swordsman named Karel?"

"…the Sword Demon?"

"Yep, that's the one. How'd you like to fight beside him?

"Karel would be an interesting partner. But what about Lord Hector? I believe he still wants my head on a pike outside castle Ostia."

"Leave Hector to me, I'll straighten him out. For now, you just worry about getting to know your new partner."

Jaffar nodded in agreement.

"Oh, and Jaffar. One more thing."

"Yes?"

"Don't beat yourself up over what you did when you were Nergal's puppet. What's done is done. Focus now on making a better life for yourself and for Nino. Remember Jaffar, as long as the good you can do in the future exceeds the crimes you have committed in the past, there is hope for redemption."

R&R Please.