Chapter One
The Verge of History

Prince Chrom felt like a stranger as the caravan built a makeshift funeral pyre out of their destroyed wagon. He knew he was out of place as the caravan's oldest member lead the Plegian's of the group in prayer as the body, wrapped in a makeshift shroud, was laid atop to the pyre and set ablaze. He would have liked to join in on their prayer out of respect, and because it was something Emmeryn would have done, but they spoke in Plegian.

Frederick had asked him whether or not they should trust this caravan like this with recent goings-on. But if it wasn't for the caravan the village of Elrond may be in worse condition now.

The events of last night were… strange, to say the least. The brigands who did make it into Elrond simply invaded homes, used threats of violence to get the homeowners to cooperate, then move onto the next home. Nothing was stolen, and only one dead.

His sister, Lissa, cried for the deceased, though they knew next to nothing about her. Even the caravan knew little about her. She was just traveling with them for a few days, working at their camp in exchange for food and shelter until they came to the next town. But her body was found so close to where Chrom, Lissa, and Frederick were staying for the night. If they had acted sooner maybe they could have saved her. It was a thought that nagged at Chrom since Rahul found her.

Rahul, the oldest member of the caravan, dressed in a worn robe of a sage, more or less spoke for the caravan. Some members eyed Chrom and Lissa like they half-expected him to just turn his blade on them. In turn, Frederick looked like he would not hesitate to gut the first person to raise a hand at them. The children amongst the caravan, in particular, cowered behind their mother's skirts.

The children would have been born well after the fact, but no doubt they heard the stories of Calhoun's genocidal campaign. Added to Ylisse's current issues with Plegia Chrom imagined most Plegian children would be terrified of him. "I think we should go now," Chrom kept his voice in a hushed tone. "Emm will worry if we keep her waiting."

'I know when we're not wanted,' was what he wanted to say. Public speaking may not have been his strongest suit, but he knew when he needed to keep some thoughts to himself. "Quite right, Milord," Frederick agreed.

Sniffling, Lissa used her sleeve to dry her eyes. She nodded silently. Before they could head back to Elrond, Chrom opened one of the saddlebags on Frederick's mare and pulled out a small purse. "Please, accept this," Chrom offered the purse to Rahul. "Thirty-seven suns should buy you a new wagon."

"Thank you for your kindnesses, my lord." Rahul took the purse into his withered hands. "And please, do not worry yourself about her passing. She likely died happy with the present outcome."

Chrom forced a smile, though Rahul's words did not sit with him. Though the brigands last night were did not kill anyone, someone still died anyway. That bothered him so much he struggled to find the words.

He could still smell smoke as they traveled straight through Elrond, just smoke, and wood. If there was any flesh, Chrom didn't notice, for better or worse. Despite the somber start, it was a calm day. The warmth of spring melted away the remains of winter. It could have been a nice walk with the warm wind and fresh scent of glass.

"Well, I'm sorry!" Lissa ranted, cutting across Chrom's thoughts. "I'm so, so sorry if I don't understand why we even bothered to bring a horse along if we don't even ride her!"

Frederick brought up the rear of their small group, leading his mare, Cecil, by her reins. He usually rode into battle atop Cecil, but for missions like this, she essentially served as their pack mule. Of course, if anyone actually called Cecil a mule when Frederick was in earshot, there would be hell to pay.

"A little walking builds character, milady," Frederick responded lightheartedly.

Lissa stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth and blew a raspberry. Hard to believe she turned sixteen just a few short weeks ago. She had the tendencies of a nine-year-old at times. "If I wanted to build character, I would have stayed in Ylisstol and trained with Sully and Kellam," she murmured.

"That's actually not such a bad idea," Chrom pointed out with a raised brow.

"You knew it would be like this when you became a Shepherd, milady," said Frederick.

"I know," Lissa heaved a sigh, "I also knew it would give you one more excuse to worry about every little thing, Sir Allow-Me-to-Clear-Every-Tiny-Little-Pebble-and-Stick-So-You-Don't-Trip."

"Milady!" gasped Frederick.

A brief snort escaped Chrom's lips, he tried to hide his grin by covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

Lowering his hand, Chrom allowed his eyes to wander off to the field just off the dirt path. The wind billowed through the grass, making the field look like waves were crashing into one another. His gaze followed the 'waves,' until Chrom spotted something truly unexpected; a human figure, lied motionless on the ground.

Gasping sharply, Chrom tore off the path, straight for the figure, without really thinking. He heard Lissa call his name, then perhaps gasp herself. As fast as she could Lissa got out a bottle of vulnerary and a water skin out of Cecil's satchel and raced after her brother. Frederick called for them both, but his cries full upon deaf ears.

As soon as Chrom was at the figures side he dropped to one knee to lower himself face beside theirs. A steady stream of warm breath met his skin; relieved, Chrom leaned back as Lissa dropped to her knees. She dropped the waterskin and vulnerary at her side and started to inspect the person. "Still alive," Chrom stood back up.

Gingerly, Lissa pulled back the flap of their coat and nearly leaped back at the sheer amount of blood on their person. "Not for a lack of trying!"

She was a young woman, about eighteen or nineteen, maybe twenty if they were being generous. Her skin was a handsome shade of honey brown, white hair laid around her head, over her shoulder. She lied on her side with her hands close to her face; dried blood coated her fingers. Bloodstains took up the right side of her person, on her top, on her kilt, spots on her neck and in her hair. There was even a trail of dried blood on her upper lip starting from her nose. Were it not for the blood, she could have simply been sleeping.

"Plegian robes," Frederick said, approaching the siblings. "Be on guards, this could easily be a trap set by last night stragglers."

Once Chrom was able to look past the blood on her person, he could see the style of her clothing. A loose tunic and slacks; a style that would have come in handy in the deserts of Plegia. She would have fit right in with the caravan. But it was her coat that was particularly alarming. Thick and black with yellow-gold accents lining the sleeves and edges. But it was the three purple eyes that ran down the center of the sleeves that identified her as one of the Grimleal.

"Honestly!" Lissa huffed. Standing up she placed her hands on her waist, her crinoline making it default for her to place them on her hips. "Do you really think anyone would be this obvious?"

"Milady," Frederick said in a staged whisper, "you see that coat-"

"Yes, I see it. But that's all it is. It's not hurting anyone."

"And the mark on her hand? Does that get a pass from you?"

Chrom's brow arched in confusion before he looked back down at the woman. Had Frederick not said anything, Chrom would like likely missed it all together. Her hands were so caked with blood it was easy to miss. But now that Chrom had seen it, he couldn't tear his eyes from it.

There it was, on the back of her right hand. It was a light purple mark, strangely ethereal. It was not a sigil one would normally see in Ylisse. How many knew what it's significance was, Chrom did not know. But he did now what it was; the Mark of Grima. The sigil of the Grimleal and mark of the Fell Dragon.

Chrom knew the mark was usually worn on the clothes of the Grimleal's clergy. He also knew it was not unheard of for devout members to follow this practice. But he had never heard of anyone baring the mark on their skin. A part of a ritual amongst the devout? If so it was not one Chrom had ever heard of.

"What's your point?" Lissa asked, standing firm with her resolve.

"Milady," Frederick stressed, "it's blindingly obvious that she is one of the Grimleal."

"And? We cannot hold it against someone for the basic right to choose their religion. If we did, we'd be no better than Father."

Frederick's brow twitched in a rare moment of wavering. Chrom wasn't sure if it was simply because Lissa was speaking ill of the dead, or because she was speaking ill of their late Exalt. "Even when they come from the country that's been terrorizing our borders?" Frederick challenged. "Who's to say she hasn't already? Look at her, milady, I see no injury."

"Really?" Chrom asked without really thinking. But he quickly came to see that Frederick may have been right. If only because Lissa had done nothing for her after inspecting her person. So it was likely it was only the blood around her nose that was hers.

"For all we know she could have been trying to save someone," argued Lissa. "Besides, at this point, our hypothetical ambushers could have attacked us, yet they haven't." She proceeded to cup both hands over her mouth and shouted, "OKAY, WE TOOK THE BAIT! IF YOU'RE GOING TO ATTACK US BETTER DO IT NOW! C'MON, DON'T KEEP US WAITI-"

Chrom pinched the bridge of his nose while Frederick clapped a hand over Lissa's mouth in an attempt to silence her. She squirmed away from him, and darted to Chrom's side, as though he had any more power to stop Frederick. At this rate, it was going to be the two of them to get them into trouble more than this woman.

"Hold on now." Chrom raised a hand to silence the two; he held his gaze upon Lissa. "Now, I'm just as willing to hear this woman out, but I do agree that we shouldn't just throw caution to the wind." He turned his gaze to Frederick. "And what if Lissa's right, Frederick? For all we know, someone was in trouble, and this woman was trying to find help for them. Didn't we just meet a group who tried to do the same thing?"

"You ignore the fact that no one in the caravan was covered in blood," Frederick pointed out.

"Chrom…" Lissa held her gaze on the woman, then looked back up at her brother. "We have to do something."

"What do you propose we do?"

"Uh… I don't know…"

"Mm…"

The siblings turned their attention back to the woman; slowly, she opened her eyes to reveal a set of red irises. She blinked a couple of times, sat up, the shook her head to remove any dreariness. "I see you're awake now," said Chrom.

"Hey there," Lissa greeted the woman with a kind, warm smile.

"There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know," Chrom said, hoping to put the woman at ease with a joke. He extended his hand to her. "Give me your hand."

Hesitantly, the woman slid her right hand, the very hand with the mark, into Chrom's. Effortlessly, he pulled the woman to her feet. She swayed slightly, still somewhat dazed. "Easy," Chrom said gently. He placed his free hand on her shoulder to help her steady. "You all right?"

Chrom smiled slightly, recognizing that the woman was staring at him right in the face. She blinked once as though realization was dawning on her. Lissa let out a gasp and bent down for the waterskin. She removed the cork and held it out to the woman. "Here."

Red eyes wide and almost childlike, the woman took the waterskin into both hands and brought the rim to her mouth. Water spilled out over the rim, down the sides of her mouth, under her chin down her neck, partially cleaning off the blood. She lowered the waterskin, cradling it in the palm of one hand while the other held the neck. "Better?" asked Chrom.

"Yes…" said the woman. Her voice was pleasant, soft, smooth, and clear. "Thank you, Chrom…"

"So you know me then."

The woman's brow furrowed while she thought it over. Her lips pursed together as her eyes narrowed. As the seconds ticked by she brought a fists to her mouth, her brow deepening. "N… no…" she shook her head. "I'm sorry… I don't know why I linked that name to you… It just… Came to me…?"

"I see…" Chrom said thoughtfully. He supposed it wasn't impossible, but it did raise suspicion. Even he could name Valm's current emperor. "Might I ask for your name, then?"

"Y-Yes, of course!" The woman lowered her bloodied hand and hid both with her long sleeves. "I-I'm… uh… I'm…"

She fell silent once again, her eyes widened, her brow crinkled again. The woman let out a breath of air before she suddenly hugged herself; her jaw fell open slightly. She was desperately trying to find something, anything. But there simply wasn't anything for her to grasp. "You don't know your name?" Chrom asked, furrowing his own brow.

The woman released a slight squeak, she tried to hide in her high collar. 'What's your name,' was the one question anyone should have been able to answer. But for whatever reason, she simply couldn't. The woman looked so lost and helpless at that moment, Chrom's sympathies went out to her. "But it's your own name!" Lissa's eyes widened as she spoke. "Everyone has one, right?"

There was a twitch in the woman's cheeks, her eyes looked from left to right, right to left, never simply just stopping on something. Was she about to start crying? "Wh-Where am I exactly?" she asked. "Nothing feels familiar."

"Oh! It's probably amnesia!" Lissa said in a staged whisper. "Maybe she hit her head."

"Or, it's a load of pegasus crap," Frederick announced. He held a hard glare at the woman. "You mean to tell me this woman remembers milord's name, but not her own?"

"I know how this looks…" The woman swayed from left to right while she hugged herself with one arm. "But I promise, I'm not lying."

"Forgive me, ma'am, if I find your words ring hollow. Your hole situation, and the way you present yourself, reeks of suspicion."

Lissa gasped, "Frederick!"

Without hesitation, Frederick turned his gaze towards Lissa's direction. "Milady, please take a step back and think about all of this." He gestured to the woman. "We find an unknown, blood-stained woman in Plegian garb, with the Grimleal's emblem on her hand. She claims to know milord's name, but not her own? I'm afraid we cannot simply ignore this."

"And if it's true Frederick?" Chrom countered. "We cannot leave her alone and confused. What kind of Shepherds would we be otherwise?"

Frederick glanced back at the woman for a moment. She was biting the inside of her cheek, her brow stuck in it's furrowed state. If this woman was an actress she played the part of the fool spectacularly well. "She could be from the caravan?" suggested Lissa.

"Now that, I highly doubt," said Chrom. "They didn't mention any other missing member."

"E-Excuse me…"

Both Chrom and Lissa turned their attention back at the woman. She must have started to realize how she looked as she kept her hands hidden and hugged her coat close to her in an attempt to hide the blood. "We'll sort this out when we get to Southtown," Chrom decided. "It's not that far from here."

The woman's eyes snapped open in a moment of panic. "Wait!" She recoiled as soon as she realized how loud she was. "Don't I have a say in all this?"

"Peace, friend," Chrom said with a brief chuckle, "I promise we'll hear all you have to say back in town."


To say she was frightened was an understatement. To say she was confused was equally an understatement. What would she do if she could not remember herself? It would have been downright foolish to expect these stranger to care for her. And that was assuming they did not have anything horrid in mind for her.

She tried to calm herself by saying that the young man with the shaggy blue hair and the blonde girl had done nothing but speak to her kindly. Likewise, she tried desperately to push the notion that it could be an act out of her thoughts. If she gave the idea any attention she may end up frozen with fright.

Observing the trio for a mere five seconds and she could tell that the three must have come from some noble house. The man she identified as Chrom whore a truly odd one-piece suit with a white, somewhat tattered, cape and a shining pauldron. She wasn't sure what was the strangest thing about his garb, the fact that it was a one-piece or the fact that it didn't have a right sleeve despite having a left. There was a mark on his exposed right shoulder. A birthmark… a tattoo? Even it's shape was odd, if she had to describe it, the words she would choose was a teardrop inside of a trident. Not accurate in the very least, but it was all she had.

The blonde had on a warm yellow clerical's dress, complete with the crinoline. While her hair was done up in a pair of pigtails that curled at the ends. She had on a white lacy headdress, kept down by a vine-like diadem that circled around the pinch of her pigtails.

The knight had on a bulky blue and silver armor, but he held himself as though he could run miles in that thing without breaking a sweat. His brown hair was styled at neatly as he could get it with its slight curl at the end, and one lock that wouldn't stay flat. His horse likewise wore armor, matching her rider in colors.

In one form or another, they came from money. She couldn't, and shouldn't, count on them to take care of her. At best, maybe she could at least hope they would point her in the right direction. At worse, the group's kindnesses really was an act and they had some horrid planned for her. The thought nagged at her no matter how many times she tried to force it out of her head.

Oh, gods what was to become of her?

Stopping in her tracks, the woman took a few breaths in. "What will you do with me?" she asked, wide eyes staring at the ground. "A-Am I do be your prisoner?"

The chuckle from Chrom did nothing to ease her anxieties and caused a blush on her cheeks. "You'll be free to go once we establish that you're no enemy of Ylisse," he explained.

"Ylisse?" she repeated. "Is that where we are?"

"Yes. This land is known as the Halidom of Ylisse. Our ruler is the Exalt Emmeryn." Chrom's brow arched curiously. "Is none of this familiar?"

The woman shook her head, a lock of hair falling over one shoulder as a result. She bit the inside of her cheek, her eyes no longer so wide, but she was staring intently at the ground. Chrom decided that the woman's whole experience had to be overwhelming. He could not begin to imagine what was going through the woman's head at that very moment. For all any of them she knew, she was doing all she could to avoid breaking down right then and there.

"I suppose proper introductions are in order," said Chrom. "My name is Chrom - but then, you already knew that. The delicate one here is my little sister, Lissa."

"I am not delicate!" Without warning, Lissa proceeded to pound her brother on the arm with her fist. Chrom flinched slightly before Lissa shoved him aside. "Ignore my brother, please. He can be a bit thick at times, you'll discover that pretty quick. The perpetually paranoid one is Frederick the Wary."

"A title I shall wear with pride," Frederick said with a clenched jaw. This sort of teasing was clearly nothing new to him. "Gods forbid one of us keeps an appropriate level of caution." He turned to face the woman with a calmer expression, at least in compared to the judgmental glares he gave her earlier. "I have every wish to trust you, stranger, but my station mandates otherwise."

The woman nodded rapidly. "I understand, sir," she said quickly, "I know how my situation looks." She paused, her brow furrowed together; she blinked. "Anali…"

"Huh?" questioned Chrom.

"My name…" the woman said slowly. A smile formed on her face, threatening to split her face any moment. "My name… It's Anali!" Breathily she shifted a lock of hair behind her ear. "So strange… it just came to me…"

"Anali…" Chrom repeated, gripping his chin in thought. There was something pleasant about it, almost mystical. That said, it certainly was a name commonplace in Ylisse. "Sounds foreign."

"Oh!" gasped Lissa. "Maybe you're from Valm!"

Chrom couldn't help but raise a brow at his sister. For the life of him, he couldn't tell if Lissa legitimately believed it or not.

"Milord!' Frederick exclaimed abruptly.

In unison, Chrom, Lissa, and Anali turned in the direction of Southtown. A tall pillar of black smoke billowed out from the direction of the town. The scent of burnt wood was carried by the wind with the cries of the village. "Damn it!" Chrom cursed. "Brigands, no doubt. Frederick, Lissa, quick!"

"What about her?" Frederick asked gesturing to Anali.

"Unless she's on fire, she can wait!"

"Aptly put, milord."

Lissa hurried to Frederick's mare and pulled out her staff from the saddle bag. Frederick mounted the horse before he pulled the blonde girl up behind him. The mare tore off into a gallop with Chrom already ahead of them.

"B-But…" Anali said wearily. She held her hand out in a futile attempt to stop them, they were already gone.


The town was in shambles; homes and shops were either on fire or torn to bits. Civilians tried to protect themselves by blocking their doors. Some were successful, others were not. The brigands pillaged anyone they could; a few of Southtown's men and women had already taken up arms in retaliation with varying degrees of success.

A woman knelt on the ground, her pitchfork forgotten as soon as her husband hit the ground. She held her close as he bleeds out from the wound on his shoulder and abdomen. The fool tried to fight back against one of the bandits, but he was quick and brutally struck her husband down.

She cradled him close to her, unsure if she should be praising him for his bravery or condemning him for sheer stupidity. She yelled out when someone grabbed her by the shoulder and forced her dying husband out of her arms. The woman tried to struggle out of the man's grip but he had her easily outclassed.

Eventually, the man held her down in one arm, his other hand held her head, daring her to try and move less she wanted a swift end. Without warning, blood splattered across the woman's face. She stood, stunned, afraid to look at her would-be captor. The bandit's grip on her lessened, he fell over, almost taking her with him under his weight. She managed to move out of the body's path. She took a chance and half-turned to find Chrom just as he slid the Falchion into its sheath. "Are you alright?"

"Y-Yes!" The woman tried to wipe blood and tears from her eyes. "Thank you, milord."

Lissa knelt down beside the woman's husband, she muttered something under her breath as she held her heal staff over him. She looked back up at the man's wife. "Your husband will be fine," she said. "Can you please spread the word that I'm caring for the wounded. And that I could use volunteer help."

The woman nodded and went into the nearest shop, one of few that had yet to be plundered. "I've got things taken care of here, Chrom," Lissa looked up at her brother. "Be careful."

He gave her a brief nod. "You too."

Chrom did what he could to get civilians out of their burning homes and shops. Some, namely those who lived on higher floors, tended to be trapped by burning debris. With help from the men of the house, they were able to get their loved ones out safely.

The blue haired man guided the old woman into the arms of her son. The poor woman was stuck upstairs as the home burned away. Her young grandsons sobbed into the hem of her skirt, the whole experience must have been terrible for them, with or without the risk of their grandmother dying horribly. The woman ignored the burns to her hands and hugged her grandchildren close to her whispering comforting words into their ears.

The family slowly headed to one of the safe areas. The father carried his two boys while his wife leads the old woman by the shoulders. The heart of the town was near-disserted, save for the brigands.

Chrom's breath was caught in his throat when he felt something suddenly barrel into him at full force. He was blown back a couple of meters before he and his attacker landed on the cobblestone. Chrom prompted himself up by one arm and looked over his shoulder with the full intention to retaliate against his attacker. He caught himself as soon as he saw the white hair and purple eyes on their coat sleeves.

Anali pushed herself back onto her knees and raked a hand through her bangs, pushing them out of her eyes. She was panting, sweat beaded down her brow. She held something in her arm close to her chest. It was a yellow book with gold markings on the cover. A Thunder tome?"

A metallic clang caught Chrom's attention. By Anali's feet, an ax landed on the ground; Chrom would have been it's intended target had Anali not acted. Immediately after Anali cradled her tome in one and tossed her free hand in the direction of the ax-wielding brigand. Orange-yellow runes circled around her hand as the page began to burn away. Before the bandit could act, volts of electricity struck the man in the chest, hurling him to the ground.

Anali snapped her tome closed; she glanced back at Chrom. "Sorry," she murmured, "there wasn't really any time for tact…"

"Given what could have been, I won't complain much," Chrom said, getting back up. Helping Anali to her feet he eyed the yellow book she held close to her chest. "You can use magic?"

"Apparently," said Anali. She lifted her cloak, revealing a sword and coin purse secured at her side. "Guess this thing has a few surprises in it."

Chrom grinned, tempted to correct Anali; it certainly wasn't her cloak that had a few surprises.

He grabbed Anali by the arm and pulled her into his chest. She was about to shout in protest until Chrom held Falchion out in front of them. The advancing swordsman brought his blade down upon them but remained blocked thanks to Chrom's quick thinking.

The sword ricocheted off Falchion. Fluidly Chrom retracted the sword and sprinted to the brigand, Anali followed close behind him, still holding her tome close to her. The blue haired man slashed his word against the ruffian who was promptly thrown back by Anali's Thunder spell. "They're not that strong," Anali said, holding the tome close to her. "Their armor looks fairly weak, so, really, they should go down with one good hit in the back or midsection."

Furrowing his brow, Chrom looked at Anali as though she had grown a twin out from her stomach. "You got all that with one look?" he asked.

Sheepishly, the white-haired girl shrugged. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Not to me."

Anali hugged her tome tighter and tried to hide in her collar again. She did not understand why Chrom was so intrigued by this information. It was not as though Anali did something that was so spectacular. Anyone could have figured it out if they paid close attention.

Chrom soon found that it was as Anali had said. The brigands were not well armed, nor did they have the strength to match Chrom, and most certainly not Frederick. What's more is that there were actually so few of them. Whether or not they had started out as such, or if the villagers actually succeeded in slaying a few was unknown. "These men look like their armatures," Anali said, eyeing one of the fallen brigands. "If we can find their leader and take him out, the others will probably surrender or flee for their lives. But with that said, I'd be willing to bet their leader is the strongest."

"If that's true then we ought to find Frederick," said Chrom. "He's our strongest and likely our best chance."

Finding Frederick was surprisingly easy, just follow the trail of bodies. When they finally found Frederick he had found him hiding in the shadows of an alleyway that lead to the church courtyard. Approaching him, Chrom explained Anali's observations to him, though the knight was a tad hesitant to take her advice straight off.

Sure enough, in the church courtyard, the bandit's leader set up a sort of base there. Vender's booths had been uprooted from their usual spots, creating a barricade of sorts as the brigand's leader took uphold by the church. There was evidence of the townsfolk making it this far and putting a fight. Pitchforks, shovels, and lances threw askew. But those who made it this far were clearly people of inexperience. Needless to say, they were struck down like tall grass.

There was a man, one whom Anali had to presume was the groups lead, had a muscular build to him, with a large ax in his possession to boot. There were four others close to him, two bore swords, one carried an ax, and the last held a green tome. Anali motioned at herself and at Chrom, then she pointed out the sword and tome wielding underlings. She gestured to Frederick, then to the ax-wielding underling and the band's leader, silently asking him if he could handle the last two.

When both Frederick and Chrom gave Anali a sign of approval the white-haired woman tried to motion for them to hid them all at once. But her way to convey this was to have the tips of her fingers meet with the open palm of her opposite hand. This ended up looking more like a wave crashing into shore.

Seeing the men's confusion Anali tried a different method by mouthing, 'All at once.' She pointed at Frederic, then held up five figure. 'Give us five seconds.'

Taking a deep breath, Anali opened her tome, once again cradling the spine in one hand. Chrom took the lead, running out into the open, to which she followed close behind. He clashed blades with one of the bruits. The second blade-welding man swung at Chrom, he was thrown back by Anali's Thunder spell. She, herself, was suddenly tossed off her feet. The brigand's mage had cast his Wind spell straight at her.

A shrill whinny echoed around the area as Frederick road out into the open atop Cecil. The leader started shouting for his subordinates to counter-attack immediately. The brigand's mage prepared another spell. Gritting her teeth, Anali quickly got to her feet and held her open tome close to her. Electricity formed in her free hand. She bolted forward, driving the volt into the mage's side. The man gasped out before he fell over, bleeding out on the cobblestone.

Chrom fought off against the swordsmen with fluid motions, let it be blocking with his own blade or dodging an oncoming sword. However, with the three of them attacking him at once, it was difficult for Chrom to land a blow on either of them. Anali yanked the Wind tome out of the fallen mage's grasp and opened it. Blue-green runes circled around her hand as the spell knocked one of the ruffians off their feet, his sword fell a few yards away upon landing.

Stealing the opportunity Chrom used the confusion to stab the second swordsmen. The swordsman managed to get a hit in before he fell over dead, slashing Chrom on the brow enough to draw blood. The swordsman's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he slumped over, his sword fell from his hand with a clank-clang.

Another dull thud was heard as the barbarian fell over dead, the tip of Frederick's lance dripping with blood. "Damn you!" roared the band leader.

Brandishing his ax he sprinted up towards Frederick, likely with the intent to kill. As though it were his second nature, Frederick repositioned his lance. His heel nudged Cecil in her ribs, signaling her to rear back. As the horse came down, Frederick drove the lance into the ruffian's shoulder. Frederick drove it in pretty deep, almost up to his fist.

Frederick had to use both hands to get his lance out, he blanched at the amount of blood on his lance. Swiping it through the air a couple of times only succeeded in removing the substance mildly.


It took a bit of time, by they were able to successfully put out the fires across town. There were several homes that had minor damage, but some were not so lucky. However, the townsfolk had already gathered together to devise their restoration plans. The injured were cared for by the medical team Lissa had originally formed, but lead by the local apothecary.

When they found Lissa the first thing she noticed was the cut on Chrom's brow. Getting a couple cuts of cloth and a bottle of vulnerary she forced Chrom to sit down. She dabbed at the cut, causing her brother to flinch several times until the vulnerary was dabbed. Lissa demanded to know what happened, and when Anali even showed up. "Holy wow, Anali!" Lissa gushed when Chrom finished recounting events. "Sounds like you were really on top of things!"

"You're certainly no helpless victim, that much is for sure," Chrom agreed. "The Shepherds could use someone like you."

"Oh, yeah! Anali would fit in perfectly!"

"'Shepherds?'" Anali repeated, holding one arm close to her. "You tend sheep?"

As soon as the words left her lips, Lissa slapped a hand over her mouth, snorting in the process. "Something like that," Chrom said with a hint of mirth.

Anali started to fiddle with her fingers. She didn't want to belittle Southtown's tragedy, but she concerned about what would happen to her. Chrom initially said that they would sort this out when they arrived, did that still apply? "S-So…" Anali spoke up. "What… What happens now?"

"The sun's setting," Frederick said, causing Anali to jump. She whipped around to find Frederick standing behind her. "We won't be able to cover much ground before it gets dark. I suggest we stay the night at the inn and get an early start tomorrow."

Lissa punched the air with both fists. "Yes! Yes-yes-yes-yes-yes!"

Instantly, Anali's hands went to the purse on her belt. Upon opening, she spilled the content onto her opposite hand. Seven stars, three moons, and a single sun. "I-I-I…"

Chrom close Anali's hand and gently pushed it to her chest. "Don't worry about the cost," he said. "We have it covered."

"But…"

"You actually understand currency?" Lissa asked.

"Lissa!" scolded Chrom.

"I… think so," said Anali. "Seventeen moons in a sun, twenty-nine stars make a moon…"

"Huh." Lissa tilted her head to the side. "What'd ya know."

"At least take what I have," Anali offered.

"Keep it for yourself," Chrom said firmly. "Trust me one extra bed won't be that much of a dent."

Anali bit her lower lip, another argument on her tongue. But a sudden growl from her stomach prevented anything from coming out. A blush formed on Anali's cheeks. "We'll ask the innkeeper if you can wash up before dinner," Chrom assured her.


Authors Note: Right off the bat you can see a few differences between Anali and Robin. I've always described her as 'shy, but not to Olivia's levels.' This will become clearer later on when she's had a chance to know herself. A few notes;

Yes, Cecil was named for the character from FE3/12. Whether or not it was a deliberate thing on Frederick's part I don't know.

And the currency is pretty much the same currency from Harry Potter. So a sun is worth about six US dollars.