Authors' Notes: So I've been sitting on this hot mess since November waiting on a title for this fic. Finally, ended up going with the title of the first ending for Shamanic Princess Omoide no Mori at suspiciouspopsicle's suggestion.

Also, a delightful game of Seven Minutes in Heaven in a confessional with a nun thanks to suspiciouspopsicle.

Disclaimer: Tales of Vesperia is the property of Namco Bandai.

They called it a ghost, a shadow, a phantom. The phantom of Sherwood. The forest was already rumored to be haunted and the locals never dared set foot within its borders. Some said that all that had happened there was the work of the horned god of the forest, a relic of the days before the light of the one true God had swept the land. Flynn didn't know which of the rumors were true, if any of them, but he knew one thing for certain: he was going to find out.

Ghost or god? Flynn had his suspicions, and neither of the former were founded in reality. It was likely a man, and a sneaky one. But it was hard to ignore how spooked his horse was once they crossed the threshold of Sherwood Forest.

The forest canopy above was so lush and green this time of year that almost no sunlight filtered in. It was dark and quiet, but not silent, and it was less eerie for that. Leaves and twigs crunched beneath his horse's heavy, iron-shod steps and a breeze rustled the treetops. Birds sang out in chorus, a few at the time dotting branches that he passed below, looking at him without concern. If they had no need to be on edge, neither did he.

It had been many years since he had ventured into these woods, and the mantle of Sheriff was one that he hadn't had last time he was here. He was growing into it, and this was to be his first big accomplishment.

The men he had sent the day before had returned dumbfounded and not victorious and unable to explain what had happened. Their witnessing of the event was just as unreliable and varied. But overall, the tone was the same as the one others that had passed through the forest reported: a sense of dread and then a shadow. Within moments, their money and valuables had been absconded with, occasionally their horses or clothing, but almost no harm had ever come to anyone.

When witnesses had seen this 'phantom', they had only been able to agree on a handful of details. It was tall, dark, and fast. The similarities ended there. Some said it was the breadth of a bear, other said its head was topped with the horns of the devil, and others still that it could change its shape into that of a wolf. And Flynn only assumed their minds had been playing tricks on them. The things that had gone missing spoke of not the supernatural or spiritual, but of a flesh and blood man, of a thief, and if he was here, Flynn would find him.

Deeper into the wood he urged his horse, trying to keep calm the beast's ever growing panic. Into the heart of the forest, where the ambient sounds were muffled by the trees and where the light of day was nearly gone and the shadows of the forest drew in at him from all sides. It was little wonder that this place spooked the locals and passers-through. Flynn couldn't deny that fear wasn't clinging to his own skin, pocking his arms beneath his gauntlets.

The 'plish' of his horse's hooves in a puddle caused him to tense, and his horse bucked back in surprise.

"Easy. Easy." He ran his hand along its neck and whispered to soothe it. It snorted and paced and flicked its tail. He could feel its pulse racing through the leather of his gloves.

He must have been mistaken. There hadn't been a flash of black across the trail. It had only been his mind playing tricks on him. Fear had kept him sharp during the war and it would do the same here. They continued, in spite of the shadow following them. Or was there more than one? They were probably just animals. The forest had been the home of a pack of wolves for as long as his family had lived here, and probably longer, not to mention the sheer number of deer and other prey animals that dwelt within this realm. Flynn had fought in the Crusades and come back alive and there was no way he was going to let some 'phantom' flitting among the trees spook him further. He would uncover its truth.

The woods all around him grew stark and silent, beyond the clop of his horse's feet, and the thunder of his own pulse in his ears. The expanse of that silence was unfathomable, like there wasn't another living soul beyond himself for miles.

Snap.

He spun, tensed, hand on the grip of his sword while he held tight the reins with the other. His horse bucked again, letting out a sharp sound of fright.

"Who is there?" He said into the silence.

There was no reply.

"In the name of the King, show yourself!" Flynn squashed the panic in his voice and tried to ease the horse once more even though he was just as on edge. "By my power as the Sheriff of Nottingham, I, Flynn Scifo, demand your immediate compliance."

Still only silence filled the space between the trees, but the weight of the air lifted, less heavy and less dark. And the shadow that had been trailing them was gone.

Flynn dismounted, tethering his horse to a low hanging branch. It had calmed as well, and while it grazed, he took a moment to pace the trail. The soft ground was marred with horse tracks, his own, and faint wagon trails. Intermittently, the marks of the usual forest fauna. The strange ones were human, different from his own which were characterized by hard metal sabatons that covered his boots. These were nearly the same size but softer, with less of a rigid edge to their form. Hunters wore boots like these to minimize the sounds they made while stalking, but there was no hunter for miles that would have come this far into the heart of the forest with the current goings-on. But someone had been here, and recently. Perhaps his shadow had feet after all, which only gave credence to his theory. Why would a ghost or phantom need to walk with a man's feet, or a god need to wear man's boots? This was a man, flesh and blood.

Satisfied in that knowledge for the time being, Flynn mounted his own horse and headed out of the forest. No shadow followed and no darkness weighed on him.

As interesting as all that had been, he had places to be. The abbey on the eastern edge of the forest most notably, and the lone member of the clergy that called it home.

Being out of the forest and into the full light of day was almost shocking. He and his partner spent so much time safe within the fortress of nature, waiting for their next victim to pass through that he could easily forget the warmth of the sun on his skin. Today had been unsuccessful as far the hunt went, but days previous had been fruitful. The story of the forest was spreading fast and keeping travelers from passing through in quite the number that they used to. There were still those who saw the shortcut and weighed the danger of it before being a fool and passing through anyway.

The treeline gave way to the edges of a field, and just before it, a tall stone wall that he and his partner scaled with ease. Well, Yuri scaled it. Being a dog, Repede had far less aptitude with climbing, and wriggled through a hole at the bottom of the wall. Either way, they were granted access to the abbey. He still had to watch his back here and sneak around in spite of being in friendly territory. The unfriendly visited here as well, saying their prayers and lightening their purses a coin or two in the name of the Lord before passing through the forest. By the time Yuri was done with them, their greedy fingers were empty.

It was quiet, but not unnervingly so. It was a calm quiet, not like the forest, but pious and it made him feel a fraction less a sinner while he walked this hollowed ground.

Repede padded ahead, dropping his head in a trough meant for horses to drink from. Safe in the knowledge that they were largely alone, Yuri stopped for a drink from the well. If there was need to be worried, Repede would have let him know without a doubt.

The chapel was their destination, a stone and log and thatched roof building with a single stained glass window beyond the altar. Images of the Lord decorated the sides above the modest and empty pews, and the ever burning candles filled the hall with a thin haze of smoke. He stopped at the collection box and emptied his pocket of the few coins there and strode into the chapel.

"Rita?"

A pair of muffled voices and the rustle of fabric turned his head to the wooden confessional box behind him. He waited patiently, watching as the latch on the first of the two doors rattled and finally gave, sending a russet cloaked female friar tumbling out. She caught her step and spotted him in an instant, and tried not to make a show of the flush in her face as she straightened her brown hair.

"What do you want?" Rita spat, only momentarily drawing his attention away from the exit of another young woman from the same confessional. Her wool cloak hid slightly the splendor of her soft blue dress that stood in contrast to her blossom pink hair. The blush of her face was just as bright, only a tinge redder.

"Yuri!" She rushed to him and threw her arms around him in a grip tight enough to crush bones.

"Hey, take it easy, Estelle." He laughed and kissed the crown of her head and pulled back from her a little. "They haven't caught me yet."

The smack she gave him was tender handed and her hands sagged to take hold of the front of his dark leather jerkin. "I worry for you every day."

"You shouldn't." He gave her a crooked smile. "I'm more at home in those trees than nearly anywhere else. You, on the other hand..."

She blushed harder this time and her eyes darted over to Rita for just a second.

Still smiling, he teased, "How many Hail Marys do you owe for that?"

Estelle fumbled for words, but Rita had them ready.

"As if I bother with all that." There was a slight nervousness under the contempt in her voice.

"Too busy offering up a different sort of prayer?" A sly and feminine voice replied before Yuri could. With a strum of her lute, the purple haired woman leaning in the doorway announced her presence.

Judith was voluptuous and fair, her curves accentuated by the bodice she wore perhaps a size too small. But far beyond her lovely figure, she was strong and cunning and among Yuri's most trusted. And she had a particular knack for flustering the abbey's lone attendant.

"T-That's none of your business!" Rita stuttered and tensed, but Judith only smiled as per usual. Rita turned her embarrassed venom back on Yuri. "What are you doing out in the open anyway?!"

"I have a right to come and see how Estelle is. Besides, I'm here on business as well." From within his jerkin, he produced a silk coin purse embroidered with some silly script initial of the nobleman he had taken it from. The weight of the coins within drew the strings of the pouch taut between his fingers. "I hope that you and Judith will see this safely turned to the hands of those who need it."

Rita snatched it from his hand, cupping it in her own and jiggling the coins around. "Is this it?"

Yuri shrugged. "Pickings have been slim today."

"You can blame the new sheriff for that," Judith said. "He is made of much stronger stuff than his predecessor. Pretty handsome, too, I must say."

"What do you know about him?" Estelle asked curiously.

"Not much, I'm afraid, although our beloved Raven will have better luck gathering that information."

"He came into the forest earlier. It looks like he doesn't believe the common rumors of what's happening," Yuri added.

"I shall work harder to spread the tale then, of the black phantom that is the denizen of the wood, an ancient god wreaking his vengeance on those who disturb his forest. Not too hard, of course. We do still want some people passing through. Especially if they're only the wealthy type who wouldn't deign to believe such hogwash."

"I think he's pretty sure that I'm wholly human."

"Hush now." She twisted one of the pegs on the neck of her lute and plucked a string, listening for the sound it made. "The tale worked well enough against his lackeys. Give it time."

She didn't know yet, but it probably wouldn't take long for her to realize that once the truth came out, once he was exposed as an outlaw robbing nobles passing through, things would only get more difficult. It was easier to hunt a man than it was a phantom. And the new sheriff would be the start of that.

"They'll find out eventually and I have no intention of making trouble for you." He squeezed Estelle's hand. "I'll use a false name at that time, because once they realize that I'm no phantom, they'll seek out my truth."

"Robin," Estelle said. "Call yourself 'Robin'."

"Like the bird?" Rita scoffed.

"Yes, but most importantly, like an old spirit of the forest. Robin Goodfellow is a trickster and a merrymaker."

"Too obvious."

"Hmm..." Judith hummed, her fingers dancing over the strings of her lute. "Hm. Robin Goodfellow. Robin Wolfshead. Robin Hood." She smirked. "I rather like it. It'll make a good song."

"It'll do," Yuri said. "I'll hold up the phantom act as long as possible. Until the sheriff gets wise."

Repede padded into the chapel, letting out a sharp, gruff wuff as a warning of unwelcome company approaching.

Yuri pulled back from Estelle, leaving another soft kiss on her head. "Stay safe."

"And you, Robin." Estelle's smile lingered with him even as he left, scaling the back wall and returning to the safety of the forest as the thunder of hoof beats approached.

Their plan was perfect, except for the sheriff already being wise. Yuri had no doubts about that.