It had been a busy month for Robin. Over the course of a single diplomatic mission, the Shepherds had somehow found their way into far too many fights. It had started with the Feroxi border guard, who, convinced they had been bandits, attacked them. At least Sumia found her one true calling with a Pegasus. Robin sincerely hoped she wouldn't trip while flying. That was one explanation that he did not want to give to Chrom.

After the skirmish at the border, they made it to Ragna Ferox with little trouble, until he'd made an utter fool of himself in front of the Khan. It seemed a reasonable assumption to make when the vast majority of warriors he met were men, but apparently fate was not kind enough to let his erroneous statement go by without an audience.

Perhaps that slight was why he'd been part of the team fighting for the Kahn in the arena. Luckily, the fight to follow had distracted everyone from his blunder, especially when Marth had shown his face. Well, not exactly, but the masked swordsman had once again made an appearance, this time wielding Falchion. Somehow. Robin was unsure as to how the supposedly one-of-a-kind sword had made an appearance with two different fighters in the same battle, but it wasn't entirely unconventional. Many older stories and historical accounts somehow had Falchion jumping continents in the span of mere days, to be wielded by different heroes of legend. It was entirely possible that there was more than one sword made from Naga's fangs, and that none had been seen together before now. That didn't explain Marth's skill with the weapon, or his fighting style, which seemed to match Chrom's every move. Unfortunately, Robin had nowhere to turn to for answers, and so he had to let the situation drop. He suspected that the answers would come, eventually. He was sure Marth would return.

Nevertheless, they had defeated Marth and secured Ragna Ferox's assistance. Robin's troubles were far from over, however. While returning to Ylisse, they had come across a group of bandits that Chrom had set to eliminating, eventually chasing the twin leaders to the mountain fort. The prince had returned to much fanfare, but had only given the Shepherds a few days of rest. With the increase in bandit activity along the border, Chrom had set out to protect the people. A farm boy had brought their attention to his village, currently suffering under the hand of a raider. This was where Robin currently found himself, listening in to an incredibly odd conversation. Apparently, this was his life now.

"Listen, kid. If you want to be a hero, I've got just the things you need. I've got high quality weapons and armor, even something to replace that dinged-up pot on your head!"

"Ah never said that I wanted to be a hero! And I'm keepin' mah helmet!"

"Anna, stop trying to sell the kid stuff. Donnel, don't worry about it. We'll find your mother soon. We just need to wait for nightfall," Robin said. He put his hand on the young man's shoulder and walked him away from the money-crazed merchant, before kneeling down. "This isn't a nice experience for anyone to have to go through. I'm sorry. I know you're probably terrified, and that's ok. We all get nervous when it comes to a battle. I'm going to give you this spear, in case you need to defend yourself. Feel free to stay back. We can handle the situation."

"Awright, I can do that. Ah reckon that you n' Chrom will send those no-good bandits packing!"

Robin walked off, thinking. He was honestly worried for the kid, a farm boy named Donnel. His family had been imprisoned by a bunch of thugs, and though he was trying to act brave, Robin could tell that Donnel was nervous. At the same time, he saw some potential in the kid. Something about the way he carried himself suggested that he could do great things, despite his humble talents. Perhaps…

"Kellam, are you around?"

"I've been following you for the past ten minutes, waiting for orders." Gods above, it didn't make sense that such a large man could be so silent. The armor should have given him away, at the very least.

"I'm sorry, really. In any case, I need you to do me a favor. Stick with Donnel and make sure he isn't hurt," Robin glanced over at the newest Shepherd quartermaster before adding "by anyone. Ok?"

Kellam nodded before walking off. Robin followed him with his eyes. He was going to make sure that he could find that man whe- wait, where'd he go? Kellam, another great mystery of the Shepherds.

Robin started walking towards the command tent. He needed to plan tonight's strategy, especially how to get the prisoners free without the bandits harming them. As he walked, he could hear the sounds of a conversation. It sounded like Chrom and Sumia. After her daring antics at the Feroxi Border, she and Chrom had really hit it off. Robin got the sense that they had been companions in the Shepherds before, but now it seemed like they were friends. Interestingly enough, this wasn't an isolated phenomenon. Many of the shepherds seemed to be getting increasingly friendlier with each other. Robin wasn't exempt, either. He'd taken to planning tactics with Virion in his off time, and he'd started to gain Frederick's trust. Chrom was his closest friend in the group, owing to their time together, and even Vaike, despite his terrible antics, had started to rub off on the tactician. Something about their mutual hatred of Sully's horse had brought them closer together. Of course, that demon steed wouldn't be after Robin if it wasn't for Vaike, but that wasn't really Robin's concern, anymore. He just hoped he could get Vaike to stop before his habit got him trampled, or worse.

Moments before he walked into the command tent, he heard an odd screech. It sounded like a certain farm boy scared out of his wits. The only reaction to follow was a scattering of laughs behind him, so Robin could only assume Kellam had gotten the jump on Donnel. Well, it was a good way to break the ice, he supposed, even if poor Kellam didn't ever mean it.

Yes, his month had been hectic, and was probably going to be more so, if the escalating tensions in Ylisse were anything to go by. With this group of people around him, though, Robin was happy. There might be trouble ahead, but Robin wouldn't have it any other way.

Aiden was hungry. For the second night in a row, he hadn't eaten. That was something the stories never mentioned, that the heroes and villains never dealt with: if you weren't rich, you'd be hungry. He'd thrust himself into an alternate timeline with very little, and he was suffering the results. Travelling from village to village and defending them from the Risen had been satisfying, but it wasn't viable. No villager had coin to pay for his efforts, though they at least shared a hot meal and a place to sleep on occasion. He traveled on foot, often wandering at least a day or more before reaching the next settlement. Occasionally, he would come across signs of the war to come. Bandits, Risen, even ransacked homes and towns. What had been a grand adventure when he arrived had quickly descended into a nightmare.

Before this began, there had been no thought about finding food or water or a place to sleep. There had been dreams of glory, plans on counteracting the more pressing consequences of his actions, but he hadn't considered the long term. They had always said he was rash and impulsive. Maybe they were right. Maybe he should just find the others and give himself up. They could all make the journey to Mount Prism and return to their own realm.

No. He couldn't return. That would mean giving up everything he had done. He couldn't do that. He'd have to abandon all of the work that had led up to this, and everything he had planned for the future. It would mean facing judgment on his actions, and he had all too good an idea of how that would end. More importantly, it would mean giving up his ultimate goals, leaving behind everything and everyone that was counting on him. That was not going to happen. Too much was resting on his own success for him to give up now. He'd just have to find a way to survive. From there, he could work his way up. He'd said as much before, but this time, he knew what he had to do.

Which was why Aiden found himself walking through a dimly lit doorway in the shadow of an alleyway at night. He had returned to Ylisstol after all. He had entered the city in the late afternoon, and hidden out until evening. If his pursuers were still in the city, he did not want to give them any help in finding himself.

The raucous noise hadn't lessened in the month that he had been gone. The stench hadn't improved; in fact, it seemed even worse than before. How long was this group of thugs planning on staying around? For a brief moment, Aiden considered those who owned the establishment. Perhaps they were still here, somewhere. Maybe they had been driven out by the barbarians at their doorstep. Perhaps this entire enterprise was a front, serving as a staging ground for Bron's thugs. Perhaps it was best not to know.

"So the brawler returns! What brings a fighter such as yourself to grace us mere peasants with your presence?" Well, he found Bron, at least. The man was walking directly towards him, arms outstretched as if to welcome him in. As usual, he had that creepy grin on his face.

"Hello, Bron. Is that job offer still open?" Aiden made sure to keep his tone level, even respectful.

"I dunno, it's been a very long time." There was a pregnant pause. "Because I like you, though, I'll let you know that it is. Are you interested?" Bron grinned. Aiden noticed when he nodded, almost imperceptibly, to a nearby lackey. They quickly returned his grin.

"That depends on what the job is. I'd like to know what I'm signing up for," Aiden responded.

"But of course! You needn't worry about a thing. Everything we are doing is endorsed by the government, if that's what you're worrying about. We've simply been hired to wait here and retrieve an incredibly important package when the time comes. It's nothing too complex, don't worry, but our employers are paying handsomely. I won't ask again, so consider wisely. Are you interested?"

Aiden's instincts were telling him that this was bad, that he had to get out of here, but he suppressed them. He needed this. Though he didn't trust Bron, the man had said this was government sanctioned, too specific a requirement to be a lie, unless Bron was incredibly bold. Oh well. No one had ever said he had to like his employer.

"I'm in. Let me know when I'm needed." Bron grinned wider than usual, if that was even possible.

"Good, because we leave soon."

Bron had been true to his word. Within an hour, the entire band had packed up and vacated he premises. Aiden was with them. With discretion Aiden hadn't thought possible of a bunch of thugs, they had left the city, following a series of roads heading southwest. The precision with which they followed their path suggested that this had been planned a long time in advance. They made good time for a small horde, and by the next night had found themselves looking upon their destination.

Apparently, Aiden had signed up for guard duty. He found himself watching over a small herd of horses, mounts for Bron and a few higher-ranking members of his crew. He, along with another man, had been told to stand guard over the animals to ensure that Bron could "quickly and easily" transport the delivery when it arrived. The other man, an incredibly shifty archer who'd refused to give his name, had decided to take up position close to the herd leaving Aiden to patrol. This worked for Aiden, as it allowed him some time to try and piece things together.

The town Aiden was able to look over upon was relatively small, with only a few houses scattered between green fields. Dominating thee view was a much larger manor, ornate in decoration and proudly displaying the Ylissean seal along with a family crest. Aiden recognized the location as Themis, a dukedom with a small town on the border between Ylisse and Plegia. In the darkness a few candles had been set in windows, marking occupied structures with a dim light. The manor was much more grandly lit, but still things seemed incredibly still. The moon was in full view, shining down upon the fields nearby. Bron and his men had somehow managed to disappear, however. Aiden knew that the ruling family here were very influential in Ylissean politics, despite Themis's small size. Beyond that information, however, there wasn't much of any interest here. Why would a bunch of brigands be picking up a package here, of all places?

Some ideas had been forming in Aiden's head to explain this. The group he was working with had suddenly assumed a very high level of coordination once their mission had arrived, despite their earlier raucousness. Of course, they could have just been very professional sellswords. It wasn't that odd. Their choice of location, however, was. Why would a group with goals in Themis have a base of operations in Ylisstol? And again, why would their main goal be something in a small town like this?

Perhaps they were more than they seemed. Aiden was starting to wonder if the whole appearance of bandits was a disguise to throw off onlookers, and that these men were something else. Bandits or spies for Plegia wouldn't have stopped here; the town was too small to provide an effective safe haven, especially with their home country just across the border. No, the company's business was definitely directed here. Perhaps they were working for the Exalt. That would explain the base in the capital and the mission to its most influential dukedom. Bron had said that they were sanctioned by the Ylissean government, after all. Aiden still didn't feel safe, though. Nothing was adding up.

"Hey, Hood, ya see anything?" That was the archer, calling out to him. His habit of keeping his cowl up, something not uncommon in this group, had nevertheless earned him the nickname of Hood from the archer. No one used their real names here, it seemed. Even Aiden's employer probably hadn't, now that he thought of it.

"No, it's pretty quiet. You mind telling me what we're doing here?" Aiden responded, keeping his voice low.

"Simple, we're picking up a delivery," was all the archer said. At least it wasn't a flat out refusal.

"Care to shed any more information?" Aiden hoped he wasn't taking too much of a risk with this question.

"It's a very important package, one that our employer wants to make sure gets to them safely," the archer said. Aiden shifted a little, repositioning his cloak. He was all too aware of his own bundle, and its importance to a select few people. "If I were you, I'd stop asking questions. Knowing too much about this sort of thing can be dangerous." With this, the archer studiously looked over an arrowhead, testing the edge. Aiden got the message.

The silence was soon interrupted by the sound of booted feet. It looked like Bron and his group were making a return. Bron made his way over to the pair, but Aiden was able to catch a quick glimpse of a large sack slung over one fighter's back.

"You two, anything to report?" Bron said, his voice low but commanding. His usual uncaring attitude had been replaced by a sense of grim professionalism. The archer responded.

"We didn't see anything. It's been a quiet night. Any trouble with the pickup?" At this, Bron grinned.

"Exactly as planned. Go help the others secure it." The archer scurried off, and Aiden made to follow. He was stopped by a large hand.

"Not you," Bron said. "Our employer values their secrecy. Which means that new guys like yourself stay away from the delivery. I got another job for you."

Aiden nodded, but was cut off by a commotion near the horses. He looked over and saw his archer aquaintance reeling back, face covered in blood. Before he'd considered it, Aiden was at his side. The man's nose had been broken, and the cloth sack was lying open nearby. Whatever was inside must have fallen and hit the man. Aiden looked over-

And froze. Lying on the ground, tied up and gagged, was a small blonde woman with a look of pure hatred in her eyes. She seemed well off from her outfit, a white frilly thing popular among younger court women. Lying next to her was a small parasol.

This wasn't happening. He had not just been accomplice to a kidnapping. All the evidence was before him though, he-

"You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?" Aiden's heart skipped a beat. It was Bron. "I'd told you not to go snooping around where you weren't wanted. You just had to go and ruin my day. I was giving you a chance, you know. Depending on how you did on your next job, you could have joined up. Otherwise, you'd be our scapegoat, but the choice was up to you. Now, you aren't leaving me any."

"Kidnapping?" Aiden spoke, his voice barely restrained in spite of himself. "I thought you said that this was government sanctioned!" Bron just chuckled.

"I did, and it's true, too. I just didn't say which government was doing the sanctioning."

A horrible thought was forming in Aiden's mind. The figure below him looked like royalty. Even in the dim light, he could make out enough that he thought it was the duke's daughter. Bron had just confirmed an outside influence. And Aiden knew, even if no one else did, that a war was coming, soon.

He feared he had just helped start it.

He'd also managed to piss off the perpetrators.

Within a second, Aiden's blades were in his hand. For a moment, nothing happened. Suddenly, there was a deep thunk that he felt more than heard, and blinding pain roared through Aiden's mind. He couldn't focus…things were turning black. That damned weasel with a bloody nose walked past, holding a club. Aiden's blade was there, right there, he just needed to…

"You just can't trust the help these days, I suppose," Bron smirked. "Someone give me some good news." A nearby thug snapped to attention

"The guards are out cold, but not dead, like you said. We've restrained the girl more securely this time. From the look of things, we can get out of here with no trouble."

"Good. Gangrel's paying us to leave them alive. Someone has to let the Ylisseans know who it was that attacked," Bron ordered. "Don't worry, we'll have some fun with the other villages along the path, make sure the Ylisseans get the message." He looked over to the prone swordsman before him. "What are wo going to do with you?"

"Sir, lookit this!" A thief had decided to check the traitor's pockets, but had evidently found something more interesting. He was grasping a large, oblong package that had been tied to the man's back, hidden behind his cloak. Bron took the bundle and loosened the fabric. His eyes widened momentarily, and he let out a low whistle.

"What do we have here?"

The Shepherds had all made it back to Ylisstol in one piece. Robin considered that an accomplishment. Somehow, he'd started to turn a ragtag group of people with skill levels ranging from "royal knight" to "farm boy" into an effective fighting force. Given time, he figured that they could do great things.

For now, he had to figure out where to go next. The world seemed to be falling apart to Risen and bandits, and the rumors from overseas were not promising. There was no shortage of work to be done. The only problem was that there was too much, all happening at once. Robin feared that attending to a problem in one place would cause troubles somewhere else. Yet inaction due to indecision would be even worse. It seemed that the Shepherds, and by extension the tactician, never rested. At least he had good news.

"Then Regna Ferox will support Ylisse? Thank you, Chrom. I knew sending you was the right choice." The Exalt was correct. If it had been any normal diplomat, they'd have been stonewalled by Ragna Ferox's warrior culture. This was assuming they could talk their way past the murderous gate defenses. Fortunately for everyone, the Exalt apparently understood more of Feroxi culture than she let on.

The agreement had been made almost two weeks ago, now, but duty had pushed them away. Chrom had left a message to the Exalt explaining their success before heading off to save the kingdom, but Emmeryin had wanted to hear from her brother in person.

"You should see Ferox's warriors!" Chrom beamed. He was incredibly excited about the success of the mission, at least in part because of his own role in it. He'd also been happier in general, according to Vaike. The admittedly unreliable source had seen something brewing between him and Sumia that might be the cause. Robin refocused. The potential relationships of his superior officers were not his concerns. "Perhaps now our people will be safe from-"

"Your Grace! M-milord! Forgive me, but I bring alarming news!" Phila? She was shaken, an impressive feat considering the captain of the Pegasus Knights' mental fortitude. This couldn't be good.

"Phila, slow down, please! What's happened?" Emmeryn was trying to keep calm, but even she seemed shaken by Phila's sudden outburst.

"Plegian soldiers have been sighted inside our southwest border!" Damn, that wasn't good. There'd been suspicions about the bandits, but this was the first time he'd heard of the Plegians explicitly attacking. "They attacked a village in Themis and abducted the duke's daughter!" Robin was able to see the color drain from Lissa's face at this revelation. When she spoke, her voice trembled with fear.

"B-but that would be…Maribelle! Chrom, we have to do something!" Maribelle, the icy noble he'd met a month ago? How had she gotten involved in all of this? It was bad enough for Plegians to kidnap someone from Ylissean borders, but this made it personal. Somewhat. He didn't really know her, but he knew Lissa liked her.

"There's more," Phila continued, regaining some composure. "King Gangrel of Plegia claims Lady Maribelle invaded his country. He demands we pay reparations for this 'insult'." The disdain with which she spat the word was almost palpable.

The next few minutes were spent discussion options, notable for Chrom and Phila suggesting the brilliant tactic of putting a sword in the mad king's gut while the Exalt suggested diplomacy. Unfortunately, this "Mad King" didn't seem like the best diplomat. Robin stayed silent. Both ideas seemed poor, but indecision again seemed even worse.

Eventually, it was decided that Emmeryn would attempt diplomacy, while Chrom and the Shepherds would serve as guards. Robin set off to prepare. He hoped diplomacy would work, but was under no illusions. If things fell through, there could be war.

No, a Shepherd's work was never done.

"You ever think about stealing this stuff?"

"It'd be more trouble than it's worth. Are you telling me you honestly would give up your morals for some more coin?"

"Just idle chatter. I'm not honestly considering it. This job's tedious, but not that tedious."

"Good to hear hard labor hasn't corrupted a paragon of virtue. I guess this is a new experience for you, huh? Working like this."

They'd been chatting like this every day they'd been here. It made the work go faster, and the occasional battle of wits helped keep them sharp. The conversation never breached their real issues. Those were too pressing, too prominent to joke about.

For Martin, crate stacking had been a great idea. For the rest of the group, it had seemed insane. With the sort of inane prattle that usually came out of his mouth, he had fully expected the odd looks. However, this time he was serious.

In any market city like Ylisstol, there were traveling merchants. These merchants brought their wares with them, usually carrying large shipments by some sort of cart. The carts weren't allowed in city limits, but these goods needed to go somewhere; there were customers waiting to make purchases. While some of the more successful salespeople had workers to help with their tasks, many small-time merchants spent good portions of their day offloading their own wares and setting up their own stalls in preparation for the next market day. Long ago, these merchants would have been stalked by thieves, ready to steal whatever was left unattended. One day, though, some enterprising rogue had realized that there was easy cash to be made from providing help to the salespeople. Soon, a sort of barter system had sprung up: the crate-stackers would help move shipments from the carts to the market for money, and if they got cheated by a miserly merchant, well, the more unscrupulous were prepared to take off running with whatever they could find. Those traders who couldn't afford full-time employees jumped at this opportunity to free themselves of a few hours' worth of hard individual labor, and soon the business at the merchant's gates had taken off.

It was an incredibly easy business to get into: all one had to do was wait for a harried merchant and give them a hand. As a result, Martin and Shione now found themselves waiting by the Northern gates, waiting for another shipment to come by. They'd been doing this for approximately two weeks and had made a small business out of it. The coin they earned went straight to their search for Aiden, whether it was buying supplies, food, or the occasional bribe. Cainne used her time out in the wild to supplement their meals. They'd hoped that she'd be able to find Aiden if he left the city, but after a few false starts, the trail had gone cold. Lyta had taken on the monumental task of searching the city, which left Martin and Shione to earn coin. He'd practically had to drag the haughty cavalier here.

That wasn't the only reason he'd chosen this job, though. It was near a prominent entrance to the city, so Martin would be able to watch anyone who entered or left by this path. While there had been no sign of their quarry, he had witnessed the Shepherds returning from Ragna Ferox.

Of greater interest was the chatter. Merchants often had stories to tell or experiences to share from their travels on the road, and they would speak freely if bored or interested enough. These travelers could be found anywhere, so Martin was constantly on the lookout for any information that could be linked to Aiden. There had been a few mentions of a traveler matching his description wandering the countryside and fighting against the occasional Risen party, but they were long gone even before the merchants themselves had heard about the figure.

So Martin and Shione waited. They did a lot of waiting these days, as travelers to the city became less and less frequent. Even without any knowledge of future events, many could read the situation for what it was: trouble was coming to Ylisse. If Aiden wasn't found soon, Martin and the others would find themselves in the middle of it. No soldier stayed idle for long once war arrived.

"Hey, check out that guy over there," Shione said, jostling Martin out of his thoughts. "He seems up to something, and he's trying to hide it badly." Indeed, the figure in question was sulking in a corner, studiously avoiding the gaze of everyone nearby. Their hand was constantly going in and out of their pocket, as if to make sure that something was there. Martin cast a glance over at Shione.

"You think it's a thief?" Not everyone was content to accept a merchant's payment. Some were willing to face the risks of a theft in order to make a quick payment. They were different than the kinds of people who'd steal if they felt cheated, because those people thought they were justified. These thieves were acting out of pure self-interest, and cast a bad name on everyone else. The crate handlers, interested in protecting their livelihood, often had to drive these lowlifes off.

"No, he looks more like he's waiting for something," Shione responded. "If he wanted to steal something, it isn't here yet. He's been waiting for too long."

"Too bad Lyta isn't here. She'd probably be able to pick out this guy's intentions from a mile away." Martin regretted sending her away. Lyta had training in many, many unsavory skills that were useful in a surprising number of situations. As a result, she had a keen eye for others in her trade.

"We might not need her. Shady over here is moving." True to Shione's word, the man was on the move. It was a laughable attempt at stealthy movement, but it was enough that anyone looking probably wouldn't care to notice the man.

Martin stayed back, and watched. He made a slight motion over to the other end of the road, and thankfully Shione understood. He started to make his way over to where Martin had motioned, slowly circling around the shady figure. If they tried to run, they'd find the main road blocked on both sides.

There was movement out of the corner of Martin's eye. Suddenly, a small figure sprinted out of a side street, running into the suspicious man. The smaller figure was quickly gone from the way he came, the suspicious figure was on the ground. Shione reacted first, moving towards the downed man. That meant Martin had the runner. Great.

He took off down the side street. This hadn't been part of their plan, improvised as it was. Then again, not many plans ever survived in their original form, a fact Martin knew well. You had to be able to adapt to changes on the fly. If you couldn't you'd be crushed by a more adaptable opponent. With any luck, his new prey was not one of those opponents.

The target was focusing solely on getting away, not caring what he left in his wake. As a result, Martin was able to track him by the people that had been knocked aside and crates that had been toppled. This guy was fast, and he knew things well. If he had been more careful, Martin would have lost him. As it was, he could barely keep track of the runner's figure, bobbing and weaving through the crowd. Martin kept looking for some advantage, a way to get ahead or stop the runner, but there wasn't anything to be seen. All he could do was to keep as close behind the figure as possible, ready for such a moment to arrive.

Suddenly, an arm reached out of the crowd and grabbed him by the shoulder. Its owner stopped him cold before turning him around and letting go. Martin almost had his sword out when he recognized the hooded figure.

"Lyta?"

"Hey Martin. Where's the fire?"

"I have to go. That kid's acting way too suspicious." He turned to leave, only to have Lyta hold him back.

"Easy. The kid's a pickpocket, one of the more infamous in the area." Lyta explained, before holding something out. "I'm better. He had this in his pocket. I snagged it as he passed." She had some sort of paper in her hand. Martin grabbed it.

"Lyta, what would we do without you?" His question went unanswered, as Shione quickly approached the pair. He looked worried.

"That was a setup! The man passed off something to the kid and took a fall to make it look like a theft. He tried to get away as soon as I got near." Shione was apprehensive, but calmed down once he realized that Lyta was there. "Oh. I assume you got it?" Martin held up the paper, but noticed something.

"Where's the man?"

"He got away. Threw dirt in my eyes as soon as he got a chance. At least I got out what I did. Heard him say something about others at the tavern, and how they'd kill him for this. He got away before I could ask more." Lyta perked up.

"I've been around, and I heard about a local bar in a bad part of town. Locals are saying it's been overrun with criminals. I can lead us there. Whatever's going on here, I say we stop by and take a look." Martin looked over, troubled.

"We're going to have to postpone that trip, people. We have a bigger problem." The look on his face was grim, the note open in his hands. "Listen to this: Shipment received, payment to be delivered in the steppes west of the city. Tell V. to prepare his operation. If he wants to act, now is the time. That's troubling, but then there's this: "Ran into trouble with that swordsmaster recruit. We were going to take proper action, but there's something off with this guy. I'd rather not write it here. Let V. know there might be a flaw in his plans. Once he is done with them, get our guys up here as soon as possible. We might have a fortune on our hands. It's not addressed to anyone, perhaps that courier is supposed to recite it. Signed with a B."

"Do we tell Cainne?" Shione said. "I mean, a reckless swordsmaster with "something off"? This sounds like Aiden. If he's there, we should let her know."

"I agree," Martin said, "But we don't know where she is right now, or when she'll be back. I shouldn't have sent her off, but it's too late now. Someone will have to stay behind to alert her. Plus, I want eyes on this plot and this "V" guy. We don't know enough." Lyta raised her hand.

"I'll do it. I can navigate these streets the best out of all of us, and with the least chance of being seen. I'll let Cainne know, and we'll figure out what to do from there." Martin nodded.

"I know the area west of the city pretty well, and I know how to get to the steppes," Shione spoke. "It's only a day's ride. How about we head off and see what we can find out about "B". If Aiden's there, this is the break we need."

"Agreed. We all know what we're doing, so let's head out. Lyta, good luck. Shione, let's get to the camp. We ride out of here as soon as possible."

Dark. It was dark. He couldn't see…no, wait, there was some light. His head hurt. Again.

Aiden really had to stop waking up like this.

Taken unawares by simple bandits. Had he really fallen this low? That shouldn't have happened, he was better than that. There had always been someone watching his back before, though. She'd always made sure that he was covered. Now she was gone, and he had to rely on himself.

That meant getting out of here, though. He was in a tent, he figured. There was no light inside, but he could see from the sunlight seeping through and under the cloth. It was intense, so it might be mid-day outside. He tried to get up, to no avail. He was tied to something on the tent's back wall. A quick look revealed post jutting out of the ground, supporting the tent. His bindings were wrapped around the post, and they'd either have to go under or over the post, neither of which was viable. Brilliant. He'd have to escape somehow, but that could wait. He wasn't going anywhere.

Currently, he was more worried about something else. His gear was gone, including his swords, cloak, armor, and most worryingly, the satchel that had been tied to his back. If those were in these bandit's hands, his situation was about to get infinitely more difficult.

The bare ground yielded no answers, and so Aiden set to work. He strained against the bonds to no avail. The rope was tough, and no amount of brute force that Aiden could summon would break it or the post. Perhaps he could use the wood post to slowly saw away at the binding, but it had been smoothed down by repeated use. Any progress would be painfully slow. Before he could start, something moved.

"…I'll go check", said a voice from outside, muffled by the fabric walls. Aiden quickly decided to act unconscious. He closed his eyes and lolled his head. Hopefully it was dark enough that they wouldn't notice.

There was a rustling sound, and heavy footsteps. Aiden felt a wave of heat as the tent flap presumably opened. They had to be somewhere warm.

"Still out?" said a quiet voice. It was Bron, somehow keeping his booming voice down. "I suppose that's for the best. Wouldn't want you hurting yourself or anyone else trying to escape. I was just going to kill you, you know. Anyone else would already be dead. Lucky for you, I checked twice, and found something interesting. You're going to be my ticket out of here. A bargaining chip, should the Mad King decide he doesn't want us anymore. I don't know your story, kid, but I know a prize when I see one. And somehow, you're it. Don't wake up. It'll be better for everyone if you just stay here and stay quiet."

A chill ran down Aiden's back. Did Bron know he was conscious? The tent flap rustled again, and Bron was gone. Aiden opened his eyes. Nothing. It was going to be a long wait.

Robin stood by the Cliffside, staring at the strangest figure he had ever met. No one who was so emaciated and frail should be so menacing, but this man exuded a sense of dread, visible even in the faces of his followers. Perhaps it was the clothing: the outfit was suited for royalty, but had been twisted and blackened, almost as if in response to the owner's emotions. An intricate crown gleamed dully on his forehead, completing the ensemble. Perhaps, though, the dread stemmed from the man's expression. It was one of twisted joy, an expression shared by children who liked too much to break things and soldiers that liked too much to break men.

Standing before him was the Mad Dog himself, King Gangrel. He was not alone, for standing by his side was a strange, ashen-skinned woman astride a black Pegasus. At the ready was a small army, easily rivaling the size of the Shepherds that had accompanied the Exalt here. Some looked like the very bandits and ruffians that had been raiding Ylisse for the past month, but others looked much more professional, dressed in well-maintained equipment that bore the multi-eyed symbol of Plegia. Robin recognized it despite having no memory of ever seeing Plegians before: it was etched onto his own hand for reasons unknown.

Gangrel did not look at him, however. His attention was focused on the figure nearby, the lady Emmeryn. The Exalt stood, seemingly unafraid of the twisted man before her. Directly to her sides stood her siblings, ready to intervene at a moment's notice. Robin and the others stood to the side, waiting. Finally, someone spoke.

"What's this, then? The Exalt herself, in all her radiance? I fear I must shield my eyes!" There were no words to accurately describe the king's voice other than infuriating. The sound he made afterwards was even more obnoxious, and Robin could barely recognize it as laughter. Emmeryn didn't flinch. She had to have prepared for this meeting, Robin thought.

"King Gangrel, I've come for the truth of this unfortunate incident between us," she declared, playing the statesman even in the face of this madman.

"The truth, I can give you the truth." Surprisingly, the speaker was the ashen-faced woman. Gangrel let her proceed, which meant that she had to have some authority.

"Perhaps milady might share her name?" Robin wouldn't have called her a lady, at least judging by her outfit, but that was why he wasn't the diplomat.

"You may call me Aversa." Something about that name was distantly familiar, like the mark on Robin's hand, but the thought was gone before he could grasp it. What was going on here? Who was this woman? What did Gangrel want? There were far too many uncertainties for Robin's taste. The more issues, the harder it was to choose an appropriate strategy. Judging by the look on Gangrel's face, he would need one.

"You see anything?"

"Looks like a campsite. No sentries. Lazy." Shione responded. Martin shifted to get a better view. The two of them were lying flat on the bare earth looking down over a cliff's edge, hiding with the help of a few scrubby bushes. Sure enough, there seemed to be an entrenched campsite down below. Some of the tent structures were in worse condition than the others, and seemed to be in worse condition. More pristine tents were clustered on the outskirts, new arrivals by the look of things. Martin could make out the Plegian seal on some.

"Maybe not lazy. They might be all gone, or maybe they already know where their enemy is." With that, Martin pointed into the distance, where two groups of soldiers, identifiable by the glint of sunlight off of armor and weapons, were barely visible.

"You think that's them? The Ylisseans, I mean," Shione asked. Martin nodded.

"We were trailing them most of the way here. There's no doubt in my mind."

"Whatever's going on over there, it doesn't look like a friendly gathering. I don't suppose we're allowed to intervene?" Shione asked. Martin shook his head.

A few minutes passed uneventfully. The camp seemed deserted, and the only movement Martin saw was the flapping of canvas in a slow breeze.

"Damn, it's hot," Shione said in a low whisper. Martin sympathized. Plate armor, even in small amounts, did not make for the best gear in high temperatures. Even this close to Ylisse, the steppes had already given way to the Plegian desert. Luckily, there wasn't too much sand here. Instead the ground was rocky, with a few scrub plants providing meager shade.

Suddenly, Shione laid a hand on his back, pushing him into the dirt. Martin looked over questioningly, but Shione was similarly hunched over. After a few seconds, he dared a look over the edge.

"Sorry, a patrol of thugs passed us by down below. Just got into the camp. There were about five or six, I'd say. Why the sudden increase in security?" He mused to himself. Then he stopped, and motioned.

Martin peeked over the edge, and immediately saw what Shione was pointing to. A large man dressed in a barbarian's armor and carrying a giant throwing axe was walking past. Martin could make out a bright red beard and blue tunic, but the rest was obscured behind the petite figure of a young woman dressed in a noble's finery. The man seemed to be carrying her over to the massing troops.

"That's the 'shipment'?" Shione asked. "Damn, kidnappers. If Aiden's down there, he's in serious trouble. Martin, promise me that if things go south, we get to kill these guys." Shione had a look of disgust on his face. He absolutely despised slavers and kidnappers such as these. Martin shared the sentiment, but he couldn't act on it, not yet.

"We go in and try to find Aiden first. Don't engage unless you absolutely have to. This is the Ylissean's fight, not ours." Shione seemed ready to protest, but nodded grudgingly.

Martin watched, looking for any sign of their target. Unfortunately, there wasn't much. He had no idea which structures belonged to who, and they didn't have time or the manpower to go searching through every single building.

There was a sudden rush of movement below. Martin watched as multiple men started moving, appearing out of tents or from just out of sight Most were headed towards the opposing forces, which now seemed to be a blur of activity. The wind carried distant sounds of clashing arms and shouting men. An unfriendly meeting had devolved into an all-out skirmish, then. Not everyone was charging into battle, though. The large man from before was back, clutching at his face, supported by two others as they walked into the largest tent.

"Whatever just happened is big. They'll be in chaos," Martin said. "If we're going to move, we do it now. I think that big tent belongs to the leader of these thugs, judging by the fact he just walked into it. If I were him, prisoners would be kept nearby. It'll be a trek, but that's our destination. " Shione nodded, and both got up. Weapons were drawn, and the two of them set off for the campsite.

Robin blocked a sword thrust with a parry, then struck at the vandal who was responsible. The man fell away, bleeding heavily. That had all happened too fast. One moment, Maribelle had shown up, captured and talking about burned villages. The next, Gangrel had accused her of being a spy and demanded reparations for a crusade against his people fifteen years ago. This reparation was in the form of the Fire Emblem, some royal treasure of apparently great power. When refused, he'd sent men after Emmeryn. Chrom had struck back, and the King had declared war. Now Robin and the others were fighting for their life, any plan Robin had long since gone. The last Robin had seen of Maribelle involved her striking her captor in the head with her parasol as an unknown mage hit the woman, Aversa, with wind magic. He had no idea where they were now, but he had to save the Exalt first.

If they survived this, Robin was about to get a lot busier. Ylisse was going to suffer if he didn't get to work. They weren't prepared for war, but the Mad King had brought it all the same.

Aiden stirred with the sound of movement outside. There were a few muffled grunts, a sound like a heavy sack dropping, and then the tent flap opened, revealing an all too familiar figure.

In the dim light stood the weasel-faced archer from before, a knife and rope in his hand. He crouched near Aiden, and held the blade to his throat. It smelled of copper.

"Don't move, or you'll pay," was the only explanation the man offered. Aiden felt a tightening around his wrists. More bindings, he supposed, but why? The answer came a moment later, when the man severed the rope tying him to the post.

Aiden was forced onto his feet. The man grabbed him from behind and pushed him forward, the knife point against his back. What was this man doing? Bron had said that he was keeping Aiden in reserve. Perhaps this man was following through with those orders and relocating him before Gangrel arrived.

He was forced outside, the sunlight blinding after his time in the dark. After blinking a few times, he was able to make out his surroundings. They were surrounded by a few rows of tents, obscuring the outsides. The ground was rocky and barren. Surprisingly, there was a body near the tent, his throat slit. That must have been why the knife smelled coppery. It was used.

The corpse was another of the thugs, though. That meant weasel-face or the other thug was no longer in Bron's employment. Judging by the fact that there hadn't been any alarm, and that weasel-face had the knife to his back, he had to assume that his captor had gone rogue.

That didn't bode well for Aiden. With a knife to his back, he couldn't do much, though. So he waited, marching forward as his captor silently commanded. Then his moment came. A throng of soldiers came running by, responding to something. Weasel-face hid in the shadows, dragging Aiden with him. The man had dropped the knife, suddenly worrying about being seen. Aiden took notice.

He rammed his head back into his captor's and heard a crunch. The man's nose still hadn't healed from the least head-butt he'd received, and Aiden had just made it worse. The man howled in pain, rearing back. Reflexively, he struck. Aiden pivoted, distinctly aware of how much this would hurt if it didn't work. The man's knife sliced right between Aiden's hands, cutting the bindings. Yes, his plan had worked for once! He ran, not willing to give the man another strike. He didn't know where his supplies were, but he had to guess they'd be in the center of the encampment, spoils of war kept in Bron's tent. If the man knew what he held, they definitely were there.

There was surprisingly little resistance on the short journey. The camp site was empty. The archer hadn't followed Aiden, whether he had lost him through the pain or the risk involved in pursuit was too great, Aiden didn't know. His own path was clear, though.

Aiden approached the main tent, only to find a surprising sight. Two men, dead. He recognized them as some of Bron's henchmen. Judging from the wounds, they had been killed by the rogue archer, most likely dead before they could even react. He'd surprised all of them. If he'd made it here, though…

It meant a fight. If he could just find his belongings, he'd be ready. Unfortunately, that meant facing Bron. If the big man was there, he'd have to be ready for a fight. That meant being prepared to duck and dodge attacks until he could find his weapons. He couldn't just leave his gear, or more importantly the package, in Bron's hands, nor could he let the man spread what he knew. He lifted the tent flap and stepped inside.

Empty. The tent was unoccupied. A few torches, hung in sconces far below the cloth roof, cast a dim glow on a scene of chaos. Tables and chairs had been overturned. Books, maps, and other assorted items lay cast on the ground. Something had happened here, but Aiden expected that the only people who could tell him were lying dead outside or were fleeing the camp with a broken nose.

There, on the table. His robes and weapons. Bron had kept them close, perhaps to sell at a later date, or because he didn't know what he was doing with Aiden yet. Aiden walked to the table and started to rearm. Robes, bracers, belt, all there. Swords, now in their sheaths. Everything seemed to be in place. Everything, that was, except the package, the thing which he had crossed dimensions for, and the tome that had been stored with it. In other words, the only things Aiden desperately needed. Apprehension growing, Aiden cast about searching for it.

A ragged cough stopped him in his tracks. Slowly, Aiden approached the source, coming from a shadowed corner of the tent. It was a man, battered, bruised, and bleeding from multiple wounds. It was a man Aiden recognized. It looked like he wouldn't have to track Bron down, not anymore.

"So you escaped…" The voice that came from Bron's mouth was weak and ragged, the voice of a man with little life left. "Good."

"Bron. I didn't think our next meeting would be like this." Aiden spoke firmly, but not harshly. He had no need to yell at a dying man.

"Neither did I. That damned archer, Vanir, made it so," Bron said, before a fit of coughing cut him off. It sounded painful. If this man hadn't wanted to kill him earlier, Aiden would have pitied the man. "He…betrayed us, once he found out about you, your secret. Cut me open and left me to die, said I deserved it."

"He knows? How many others?" Aiden said, with more force than he intended. This was not good. Bron was bad enough, but now that man, Vanir, knew about him, and he'd dissapeared. At least he know why the archer had tried to take him. Apparently, he was perceived as valuable.

"Don't worry, everyone else that knew is dead, put down by his blade. He was…thorough," Bron said, before coughing. This bout lasted longer, and blood appeared on the man's lips. "He won't tell anyone your secret, not after the trouble he went through to hide it."

"What of the bundle I had with me?"

"Taken by the rat…I suppose you'll want it, and him, before he makes a mess…We may not have gotten along, swordsman…but that traitor needs to pay… you're the only one who can make him." The man was chuckling, smiling in the face of death, but he was obviously in pain. "I respect you, you know. I suppose you, agree with Vanir, think I deserve this. Perhaps you're right. You should know the truth, though… my men wouldn't have let your failure go unpunished, so I took you captive. Wouldn't have killed you, though… no, you reminded me of myself when I first started. A bit reckless and stupid, but with promise… I started out like you, dreaming of glory. I went down dark roads, made some bad choices, now I'm here… I don't regret my life, swordsman. I do wish it could have been different." His smile faded, and he looked directly at Aiden. "Remember the people like us, kid. We didn't all start out rotten, and a few, like you, still have some humanity in 'em… don't lose that, kid. Don't make the same mistakes I did. Perhaps, if things had been different…" His thought went unfinished as his eyes slowly closed. Any strength left in the man faded, and he collapsed. Aiden knew he was gone.

Undoubtedly, Vanir was gone as well. He'd be headed for Plegia, a haven for criminals such as himself. From there, it was anyone's guess where he would go. It was something, though.

Bron's tent was well provisioned, befitting the bandit leader of a mercenary faction. After today, though, he was the dead leader of a defunct mercenary faction, so anything not bolted down was sure to be gone by sunset, once the others realized what had happened. Aiden had no use for any of the fineries in the tent, but he could use the coin and travel supplies he found. He packed as much as he could carry.

Before leaving, though, he had one thing left to do. He grabbed one of the torches off the wall and hurled it at the side of the tent. He hadn't liked Bron in life, but after what the man had said… he wasn't going to let the corpse be picked clean by vultures or bandits. He grabbed another and started to methodically light pieces of canvas that he could reach. Soon, the smoke was overbearing, and he was forced to leave, tossing the torch behind him. He stepped back and looked. The tent was now an inferno, or more appropriately a pyre. Grabbing his newly acquired supplies, he walked off, towards Plegia.

He would find Vanir. He would take back what had been stolen from him. It had been his theft in the first place, after all.

This was the third group Martin had seen in the camp. He was pressed against a tent wall, completely silent. Shione was similarly hidden across the gap between structures. On the other side of the wall was a small group of mercenaries and bandits, four or five by the sounds of things. Martin couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could make out the sounds of smashing and breaking. It sounded like they were looting their own men.

Just like the last two groups, interestingly. Deciding to infiltrate the camp and actually doing it had been separate matters entirely. Their progress down the Cliffside, and then to the camp's outskirts, had been painfully slow. Since then, they had been ever so slowly and carefully making their way into the small encampment, ensuring that they weren't seen. There was almost no reason for the caution: everyone was gone, most likely taking part in the skirmish. From this distance, the fighting seemed over. There was very little movement anymore, and the Plegian forces been decimated, with the exception of a few men let here and those that had left at the start of battle. Those that remained on the field were Ylissean forces by their appearance, Shepherds under the service of the Exalt. They seemed ready to leave, so whatever purpose they had come here for, perhaps relating to the captured noblewoman from earlier, had been achieved.

And yet, despite the scarcity of the remaining mercenaries, Martin had managed to run into what had to be the majority. Three groups, all around four to six men each, had crossed their paths since they arrived. Each had been sacking what was left in the encampment, taking whatever was available. He'd overheard a rumor that the group's leader was dead, and so everyone that remained was trying to loot what they could and leave. The only thing that had prevented the various groups from interacting with each other in the small camp was a sort of professional courtesy: each group seemed content to stick to their own territory, not interfering with the others. Shine and Martin most likely would have no such forgiveness.

Unfortunately, everyone seemed to be converging on their target: the command tent. It was most likely to hold information about Aiden if he was here, but it was also going to be the best target for the raiders. He wasn't sure why no one had sacked it already, in fact.

Eventually the looters moved on, as they usually did. Martin took a few hesitant steps out, and then motioned when the coast was clear. Shione followed, and the two kept moving. Suddenly, Shione stopped.

"Is that smoke?" Sure enough, a billowing plume of grey and black smoke was blowing over the horizon. That hadn't been there when they were scouting out the campsite.

"It might be looters. We should check."

There were no more interruptions, and soon the two found themselves outside what had to be the company's defunct command tent. Martin had been wrong, it seemed. A few enterprising souls had attempted to loot the tent, with no success. They had been struck down, tough what was interesting to Martin were the wounds. With the exception of two corpses, the wounds were fresh and precise. They were the work of someone skilled with a sword, or perhaps with two.

"Looks like Aiden's work," was all he said.

"Yep. He was here, all right," Shione responded. "Think he did this?" He was referring to the inferno that had engulfed the central tent in the complex, the very one they had hoped to search.

"I wouldn't be surprised. But I think the fire came first, these corpses look fresh. He must still be out there." Shione nodded, and grimaced.

"Now he's gone, and we're no better off. There's no signs of anything. He could be in Plegia or on his way to Ragna Ferox by now, and we wouldn't know." Shione hung his head, and walked away.

Martin scanned for other clues, but found nothing. There could have been anything here to allow Aiden to travel, including gear and supplies. If he had found a horse, he could be well beyond their reach, and he'd be able to carry enough supplies to keep him in stock for weeks.

"Martin! Watch out!"

There was the hitch, right on time. Shione pointing to the main path in the camp, where the gang of looters from before were approaching quickly. Apparently, they had decided any spoils left over were worth the risk. Or, judging by the snarl from one of them, they didn't like the encroaching adventurers. Martin drew his blade.

In fact, it was just Martin who drew his weapon. Shione seemed content to stand there, perfectly at ease. Even as the bandits drew closer, he stood quite nonchalantly, seemingly at ease with the whole situation.

"Shione, wake up! What in Grima's name are you doing?" Shione merely grinned.

"Just following orders. I believe you said something about me not fighting these guys unless you told me to?" For a brief moment, all Martin could do was stare in disbelief. Then he nodded, defeated.

"Fine, permission granted. And to think, everyone thinks I'm the childish one!"

Several things happened all at once. Shione drew his axe. Two of the bandits charged in. Martin blocked the downward swing of one's axe, while the other found his mark simply gone. Then the second was hit from behind, and he fell.

The others were momentarily taken aback by Shione's incredible reaction time. Then the fight began in earnest, two thugs surrounding each of the adventurers. Martin grinned. It wasn't a fair fight, to be sure, but the thugs didn't realize just how heavily the odds were tilted against them. He wouldn't even need his magic.

The first, the one that had tried the flanking attack, went in for a sideways strike. Judging by the angle of attack, he really meant to throw Martin's guard off, providing an opening for the other one. Martin didn't oblige, instead deflecting the strike in the same direction as the man's forward momentum, stepping back as the man tumbled into his comrade. It wouldn't have been hard to pick them off, but Martin believed in second chances. As they got off, Martin motioned into the distance.

"You've still got a chance to leave."

The swing of an axe was answer enough for that question. Martin jumped to the side, watching the axe cleave dirt. These men were untrained, and had let their emotions get the best of them. The one who swung had exposed his side. He swung out at the vulnerable man, striking him down. His friend thought he had an opening and swung. Martin continued forward down the arc of his own swing, sliding under the arc of the bandit's sword. As he came back up, he pivoted and thrust upward. The bandit, unprepared, met his friend's fate. They never had any chance.

Martin was exceptional at reading his enemy's movements and manipulating those actions so they favored him. It was a skill equally as useful in close combat as it was looking over the entire battlefield.

While Martin read his opponents and chose the proper counter move, Shione was just never there. Every attack his assailants made found only empty air, while they found themselves under attack from the opposite direction. Shione wouldn't allow himself to be pinned down or stopped in his relentless assault. If the bandits tried to defend themselves, they found the attacks coming from an entirely different angle. The two couldn't keep up, and soon fell under a hail of blows.

"Well, that was easy," Martin said, looking over to Shione.

"If only finding Aiden was so simple." Shione replied, before casting his head down. "This all seems so insane. How are we supposed to find Aiden in the middle of a war?"

The situation did seem hopeless. There were just too many places to search, and it'd get a lot harder with a war brewing. Martin was a strategist, but there wasn't any strategy for finding one man who could be anywhere on the continent. Aiden always seemed one step ahead of them. Foot travel or even horses just weren't quick enough to catch someone who was already so far ahead of them.

Those weren't the only methods of travel available, though. Martin had an idea.

"Shione, we're going to need your help for this," Martin said. Shione looked up, a questioning look on his face. "We can't hope to find Aiden, let alone catch him, on foot. You don't like foot travel, though. We're close to the border, so maybe-"

"I was thinking the same thing," Shione responded. "The border guards will make it difficult, but I can handle them. With the leftover supplies we have, I should be able to make the ride. Just make sure to tell Cainne where I am, alright? I'd hate to worry her."

"Cainne, worry about you? Ha!" Martin couldn't contain himself. The idea was ridiculous. "She'll be glad you're gone. Something about your casual disrespect just gets at her, I think. I'll tell them though, don't worry."

They walked off in the direction of their horses, which had been left some distance away to graze on the sparse grass. Martin was aware that he had just separated Shione from the rest of the group, but it wouldn't be for long. He had faith in his companion's abilities. They shook hands before parting ways. Shione headed west, while Martin headed back to the capital. Shione wasn't something to worry about, not while so many other issues were presenting themselves. For example, he needed to figure out how to explain to the others what they had ust missed.

Somehow, they'd made it all back alive. As much as Robin would have liked to credit his tactical skill, there had been too much confusion from the sudden assault to formulate a real strategy. No, they'd all made it because the enemy had underestimated. Just because Ylisse was a peaceful country didn't mean its forces weren't prepared for a fight. Gangrel himself had seen to their preparations with his constant raids.

That didn't mean Robin was enthralled with the idea of the war they were now entangled it, however. Neither were any of the Shepherds, by the sound of things.

"Forgive me, Emm. I acted rashly." Yes, Chrom had. Unfortunately, rashness was the only option available at the time. Gangrel had forced it upon them. Now the country was going to suffer for his madness, and Chrom was going to blame himself.

"It's all right, Chrom. King Gangrel is the one at fault here. You were only protecting me." Apparently Emmeryn was thinking the same thing. Robin was coming to understand just how effective a leader she was, considering her age. He hoped she was as good at convincing her brother as she was with the people. Frederick approached the gathering.

"The Mad King will be rallying his forces, if they have not mobilized already. I suggest we make haste back to Ylisstol and discuss our strategy." That was his cue, he supposed. Robin was going to get a lot busier. And then there were the Risen to consider, wherever they had come from…

"Of course, Frederick. It seems war is upon us. We must protect the Ylissean people at all costs." Emmeryn really was a saint, it seemed. A war starts and her first thoughts are of her people. The world needed more leaders like her. Unfortunately, people like Gangrel would always be around to prevent that.

Robin caught up to Chrom as they departed the meeting.

"You know it isn't your fault. If anyone here is to blame, it's me. I should have predicted this," Robin said. It was true, too. Anyone with more sense would have prepared thoroughly for an attack by the infamous Mad King.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but it's no use assigning blame anymore," Chrom responded. "I understand that, and I know you aren't at fault either. I don't envy you, though. You're going to be busy in the next few days. We all are, I suppose, but I know youll pull through." If only Robin had that much faith in himself. He was new to this, even with his natural talent, and he was still troubled by his vision. He couldn't say that, though.

"I'll do my best," he said. Chrom nodded.

"When do you think we'll be back in Ylisstol?" he asked.

"I'd estimate that starting now will get us back to the capital by daybreak. It looks like no one will be resting tonight," Robin added ruefully.

"Well, we'd better not keep them waiting," Chrom finished. "Let's go." He paused for a second, though, before turning to Robin. "We'll make it through this, my friend. Gangrel doesn't know what a mistake he's made today."

Don't worry, guys, I'm not dead. Well, I mean, if anyone was actually worried. I'm fine!

However, I will admit that I am extremely late with this, as it has been far over a month. I believe I set myself an optimistic 10 days to create this chapter. As it easily matches the length of the rest of the story so far, this was foolish. Combined with two weeks of complete and utter busyness from a series of massive projects in class, and this took some time to make.

I'll try to keep to some form of schedule, don't worry. IF the other chapters are like this, though, I'll probably update more sparingly than I did at the beginning. Is this really only chapter 4? Dang.

As always, please review, and check my bio for a (mostly spoiler free) look into my decision process for the chapter.