"Wait, so what you're saying is that the Feroxi let us in because they thought I ordered Aedan to scream profanities at the watch captain, and then they thought that I ordered the Royal Guard to prepare to storm the gates? And because they were impressed with a show of force, they could only assume that I was, in fact the Prince, because they thought no one else could get a hundred people to move in sync so well?"

"Yes, Prince," Frederick responded.

"What is wrong with these people?" Chrom asked to no one in particular. He was beginning to feel as if this entire diplomacy thing was completely stupid. Maybe it would have worked if the people they were dealing with weren't actually insane.

And they could be Ylisse's future ally. Emmeryn was going to love this.

Robin shrugged. "Well, if I remember correctly, Frederick was telling you that they respond well to force."

Chrom looked over at her and stared. Blankly. As if he had suddenly lost his brain. "But…" he stammered. "But… that still doesn't make any sense as to why…"

He moaned, and gripped his head in an overly dramatic fashion. "My poor brain," he whined.

Robin simply shrugged. "Judging from Aedan's reaction to the Feroxi in general, I feel like that's going to be a more common occurrence."

"My poor, poor brain," the moaning continued.

Robin reached over and patted the prince's head, much like a mother would her baby. . "There, there. It'll be alright."

Chrom let out a fake sob. "It's just so... stupid."

Lissa barely managed to suppress a laugh. "You sound like Aedan." Then, after tapping her chin for a second, "No wait, he would have to curse more."

Frederick frowned, suddenly reminded of Aedan' incredibly filthy language. "Much more."

The Shepherds found themselves in the capital of Regna Ferox, kind of obviously called Regna Ferox. Aedan, of course, didn't call it obviously; he used more profane adjectives that possibly compared the intelligence of the ruling party of Regna Ferox to various farm animals ("Just fucking call it Regna Ferox City or something, you bunch of stupid cows, and stop fucking confusing people!"). After their shouting match with the gate captain, the Ylisseans were herded into the capital, a day's march away from the walls. Once they arrived, they were shown the finest in Feroxi "hospitality". Meaning, of course, most of the soldiers got completely drunk once they were off duty and partied with the Feroxi warriors at their barracks. Chrom was sure there was going to be some sort of ridiculous paperwork he would have to fill out when he got back to Ylisse, probably something to do with "no, please don't steal the Feroxi's horses while drunk".

The more important people were pushed into the Feroxi castle to deal with the Khan. That just meant while the rest of the Shepherds were out partying, Chrom, Fredrick, Robin, and Lissa were stuck in the middle of a atrium, waiting for the Khan to arrive.

Robin sighed softly. They had been waiting for what felt like an hour. Robin had managed to keep herself entertained by staring at the walls, but eventually the spartan stone walls of the Grand Hall got incredibly boring. Sure, Robin had to admit, the Hall itself was rather attractive. The stone walls gave a sense of strength and stability, and the banners hanging from the rafters were impressive to say the least. She had skimmed over a few of them, and concluded that they told the story of how Regna Ferox came to be. From her readings, it was founded by a great hero who slew an ice wyrm, apparently on the exact spot she was standing.

But it was so… plain. All earthy colors and emblems and blue banners everywhere. Robin thought it needed something else. Maybe some more color. Or a potted plant or something.

"Where is this Khan?" Robin asked to no one in particular. "Shouldn't he be here by now?"

"Out training, I suppose. The Khans of Regna Ferox are proud warriors. Politics mean nothing next to nothing to them. For the Khan, battle is their form of politics," Frederick supplied.

"I can see it now," Robin said with a snicker. "A massive bear of a man, with arms the size of my head, and a waist the size of a tree trunk. His chest is more barrel than flesh, and the only reason you can tell it's human is the immense amount of hair-"

"Is that what I'm like?" an amused, and obviously female, voice came from the other end of the room.

Robin shut up immediately.

Perhaps the Khan wasn't hairy, and perhaps the Khan wasn't all that massive, and perhaps the Khan wasn't even a man.

Robin gulped. Uh oh.

From the other side of the hall, the Khan strided forward, carrying herself with an air of powerful grace. She was a tall woman, dark skinned like the rest of her people, with unnaturally blonde hair, as if she had dyed it or something. Perhaps she wasn't built like an oak tree as Robin suggested, but it was clear that she was strong. Whatever skin not covered by her armor was bulging with lean muscle. By her side rested a magnificent blade, and across her back, she carried a large battle axe, more suited for cutting down dragons than anything else.

"I am glad to know," she started, "that I am a bear of a man. Certainly brings quite the image to the mind."

Robin stared. "...eh?"

Chrom looked taken aback. "The uh," he cleared his throat. "The Khan, I presume?"

The woman smirked. "Yes, one of them. I am Flavia, the East Khan. You are welcome in these halls, Prince Chrom. I must apologize for my soldiers' actions on the border. You have my apologies."

Chrom shook his head and smiled. "Your apology is accepted, but unneeded. I am sure we can get past such a misunderstanding. Your guard was simply being cautious-"

Robin resisted the temptation to snort here. More like they were simply crazy.

"- there is no need to apologize for vigilance."

Flavia scowled. "There would be no need for such paranoia if we were not attacked by those Plegian dogs."

"So it's true?" Frederick interjected. "There are Plegians disguising themselves in order to raid Feroxi towns?"

"Aye, we found documents that linked such an event. Besides, I know no Ylissean would fight so poorly. You may be a country of farmers, but it is a country of capable farmers. Would I be safe to assume that the Plegians are doing the same to yours as well?"

"Careless," Robin muttered. "Sensitive documents should've been hidden."

Frederick simply nodded, the expression on his face darkening. Robin could tell why. It was almost clear that this was a precursor to war. A psychological war, dedicated to making two countries with a more or less amicable relationship into outright hatred. Forcing Ylisse to fight a two front war, one against Plegia, and one against Regna Ferox. Or perhaps, have those two nations slaughter one another, and come in while they were both weak and wipe them out. Either way, it was a cunning plan. Robin felt her gut sink a little.

Chrom wasn't too pleased about it either.

"Damn them!" he hissed. "They insist on driving a wedge between our two nations! Scum!"

Suddenly regaining his tact, he addressed the Khan once more. "I- I apologize for my outburst. It was… indelicately put."

"Ha! No, it was well said!" the Khan barked. "We prefer plain speech in Ferox! Damn them, and damn their delicacy!"

"Well in that case, you should have a word with your damn gate guards."

Flavia laughed again. "Well said once more, Prince! That is Feroxi diplomacy!"

Robin suddenly put two and two together. "Hang on a second, is that why Aedan curses so much? Because he's lived in Ferox?"

Flavia only laughed again. "Ferox has caused more than one man to curse and drink!"

Chrom just looked bewildered at that statement. "You're proud of that?"

Flavia's grin grew wider. "We all have to be proud of something, no?"

Flavia made a dismissing motion with her hand. "But I have wasted enough time with pleasantries. Let us go to the meat of the situation. Prince, you wish for my troops, don't you?"

Chrom nodded. "Ylisstol has seen the clouds of war brewing. We would rather have Regna Ferox fight on our side than against us. Especially now that we have seen Plegia's treacherous actions."

"Then you will be disappointed," she said, turning away. "I can give you no men."

"What? You yourself have said that-"

Flavia cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Prince Chrom, you presume that I do not wish to fight. No, I would be the first into the battle and the last out. It is not that I do not wish to help you, it is that I lack the authority."

"But you're the Khan? I do not understand."

"I am the Khan, but I am one of the Khans of Ferox."

Robin looked confused. "Then you require a unanimous vote from both Khans to declare war? A rather… balanced political system."

Flavia turned around. "If that were the case, Ferox would do nothing but sit with thumbs in mouths. No, in Ferox, the khans of east and west hold a tournament every few years. The victor acquires total sovereignty over both kingdoms. And that means they have the final say when it comes to forging alliances. The West-Khan won the last tournament, you see, and so…"

Robin again put two and two together. "Ylisse is to receive no aid then."

Flavia laughed again. "If you have that attitude, then yes, Ylisse will receive no aid." She turned to Chrom, "Prince Chrom, I have a proposition, if you would entertain it..."


"Explain to me again, why we're here?" Aedan muttered.

Robin sighed. "Well, apparently, the Feroxi have a ridiculous political system based on fighting each other for supremacy. How that means they can effectively run a nation is completely beyond me, but for some reason, Ferox has stood for years upon years upon years."

"I know this," Aedan mumbled. "I lived here for a while. The tournament was a spectacle for the ages."

"Well apparently, we're the East Khan's champions now."

Aedan just cursed. "I thought I had heard wrong. Fuck everything."

Aedan found himself with a few other Shepherds in the middle of an arena. It was strange. One moment he was still hungover from the amount of Feroxi vodka he had managed to put in his body, and the next, he was being ushered into a tunnel by the Prince. When he was cued forward, he had found himself standing next to six other Shepherds in the middle of Arena Ferox. The sun shone above them, bathing the dusty arena with harsh light. The screams of cheers boomed through the air. Across the Shepherds stood their opponents, seven armor clad warriors and one person who Aedan swore he had seen before.

"Chrom!" Lissa cried. "Isn't that…?"

Chrom squinted, trying to get the sun out of his eyes. "...Marth?"

So they would be fighting against Marth. Aedan rolled his eyes. This would be fun. He still remembered how Marth fought against the Risen. He was a blur of limbs and steel, easily turning into a whirlwind of violence.

Aedan glanced around at the Shepherds. Led by Chrom, the Shepherds spaced themselves up in a sort of a wedge formation, with Lissa, Miriel, and Robin in the center of the wedge, and Aedan, Frederick, Sully, and Sumia along the wings. It was an interesting group of warriors, and it looked as if it were suited more for mobility than anything else. Aedan wasn't so sure about that. He would have rather opted for a more static front of knights with archers and mages behind them, especially considering the terrain. Perhaps if it were more open, with more room to maneuver, this would have been fine. Still, he hesitantly accepted the plan. Perhaps if they could move the riders quickly around and above in order to flank the enemy it would make things easier.

Aedan turned his head back toward Marth. That was the biggest issue here.

"So," he asked Robin, "how the hell are we going to deal with Marth?"

"Mop up the rest, corner and surround him," Robin replied. Then, after a quick pause, "or just let Chrom fight him."

Aedan snorted. "Let's just let Chrom fight him. In fact, let's just let Chrom fight all of them. He would win."

Honestly, he was kind of hoping that Chrom would go out and fight them all. His head still pounded from the night before, and if it weren't for Chrom yelling at him to bring his sword, he would have definitely forgotten it. After all, Feroxi vodka was potent to say the least. Before last night, the only other time he had it resulted in an interesting experience between an expensive courtesan, a group of very large and very angry mercenaries, seven pigs, and a jester named "Thomas" who was convinced he could shoot exploding suns from his hands.

Besides, Chrom could probably win singlehandedly anyway.

Aedan groaned, and massaged his temples. He wasn't actually sure which one was worse, the hangover or the collective stupidity of Regna Ferox.

"Let's just get this over with," he muttered.

From the center of the arena, a large hulking man greeted the crowd. With a mind boggling volume, he hollered at the crowd. "FEROXI!"

The reply was a loud wave of grunts.

"They act like fucking savages," Aedan mumbled.

"ARE YOU READY?!"

A wave of yelling and screaming and pounding and general hooliganism erupted from the arena.

"TODAY IS THE DAY YOU HAVE WAITED FOR! THE KHANS MEET TODAY FOR A BATTLE FOR SUPREMACY! FROM THE EAST, UNDER THE RULE OF KHAN FLAVIA!"

The hulking announcer pointed toward the Ylisseans. "WE HAVE A TREAT FOR YOU TODAY! FROM THE HALIDOM OF YLISSE! PRINCE CHROM!"

Cheers.

Aedan just massaged his temples. This was way too loud for someone who was still hungover. Maybe he should ask Lissa for some help.

"AND FROM THE WEST, UNDER YOUR REIGNING KHAN! THE POWERFUL, THE MIGHTY, THE WISE, THE SAVAGE! BASILIOOOOOOOOOO!"

The announcer held to "o" for longer than Aedan cared to acknowledge.

"What do they call these guys?" Aedan wondered aloud. "Hype men?"

"Announcers," came Robin's blunt reply.

"Sure," Aedan replied with a roll of his eyes.

From the other side of the arena emerged a hulking, brown mass. Covered in just a half chunk of fur and leather, the man bared his chest to the crowd. A ray of sunshine stabbed into Aedan's eyes as he looked over, courtesy of the man's prominent bald head. By his side was a massive ornate axe, its blade sharpened and deadly, yet nicked and worn. Slung over the oaf's shoulder was a massive bow, easily towering over any man.

"That must be Basilio," Robin muttered.

"What gave that away?" Aedan muttered back.

"FEROXI! OUR MOST GRACIOUS KHAN HAS ASSEMBLED THE GREATEST FIGHTERS IN THE REALM! TODAY, THEY STAND BEFORE YOU, READY TO DO BATTLE! AMONG THEM STANDS A WARRIOR OF PEERLESS STRENGTH! HE HAS VANQUISHED EVEN THE GREATEST OF THE OLD CHAMPIONS, LON'QU! LIKE HIS OPPONENT, HE HAILS FROM THE HALIDOM OF YLISSE! HE IS KNOWN ONLY BY THE NAME OF THE LEGENDARY HERO KING! FOR OUR RULING KHAN, MARTHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Marth raised his hand, thrusting his sword into the air. The cheering intensified.

"NOW LET'S SPILL SOME BLOOD!"

"Gods, you would think they would have a waiver or something," Aedan muttered.

Robin sighed, a long and loud sigh, one of complete defeat. "This whole place is backwards. Why are we trying to kill each other again?"

"Entertainment."

"Ugh," Robin moaned. "I guess I should try to make sure they're not dead? Just, unconscious? I suppose?"

"And have them wake up a few seconds later and try to murder us again? Please."

"I'm not quite understanding the point where we murder our potential ally's most effective fighters."

"Oh, I dunno... Self-preservation?"

Robin frowned. "It just... doesn't feel right."

"What, living?"

"No, not that. It's just… If we win we become allies. Who knows whether or not one of these men standing before us is going to be the next greatest hero? And besides, it's just… wrong. I don't want to kill someone just because of a stupid tournament. There's no point."

"Uh-huh. Sure. Say that again when that guy -" Aedan pointed to the incredibly large and scary looking one with a hefty battleaxe and horrible horrible scars covering his half naked body, "comes after you with his battleaxe screaming 'hulk smash pretty lady.'"

Robin sighed, and ended the conversation with a wave of her hand and a defeated shake of her head. "Let's just… focus on the fight ahead."

"Okay, but I'm still murdering whoever tries to murder me."

Robin was about to retort, but the announcer decided to start speaking.

"FIGHTERS ON BOTH SIDES!" the announcer conveniently interrupted, "ARE YOU READY FOR BATTLE!"

Chrom moved toward the front of the Shepherd formation, and unsheathed his sword. "Yes, we're ready," he said, settling into his stance.

Marth did the same with his blade. From what looked like the same scabbard, came… the exact same sword.

Chrom narrowed his eyes. "Where did you get that sword?" he asked, venom slowly lacing his words.

Marth stayed silent, simply settling into a stance.

Robin shuddered. It was eerie. The two of them had the exact same stance. Knees slightly bent, sword carried out front, hands gripped right over left… all of the basic things were there, but even the things that Robin thought were unique to Chrom. She had sparred with the prince a few times and picked up on a few of his habits, and it seemed as if Marth had the same. He prefered his left side, there was a hole in his stance on his right, as if one of his arms were weaker than the other, the subtle outward pointing of his feet so that he could move in either direction without difficulty… It was as if Chrom were fighting a doppelganger.

There was an unannounced signal, and everyone started to move. Chrom charged the center, going straight for Marth. Fredrick and Sully paired together and with their horses, became a massive battering ram of muscle and steel. Sumia grabbed Lissa and threw her behind her, and launched straight upwards, her pegasus ascending with a few great wingbeats. Miriel and Robin became a great force of nature, bringing forth the magic from their tomes, and preparing to launch a barrage of lightning and fire.

As for Aedan, he just moved to the side. He might have technically joined the Shepherds, but he wasn't a Shepherd at heart. He hadn't fought alongside them for years or anything. He just wanted a paycheck. And he wasn't Robin. Robin blended with the rest of Shepherds so well that it was almost a little scary. He wasn't a member of the Shepherd fighting squad.

And frankly, he liked it that way.

So Chrom picking him for a fight that could win him potential political allies certainly didn't make any sense.

Aedan just took a deep breath.

You know what, ambushes are fucking terrifying. I'll pick them off when I get the chance.

The two groups met with a massive clash. Swords crashed into spears. Axes crushed armor. Arrows flew into the sky. Magic rained from the heavens. Dust and sand kicked up from the stomping of feet and the clanking of armor, creating a sizable cloud, just enough to be annoying, but not enough to harm visibility.

All of the calamity of combat framed a single duel. Chrom and Marth met in the eye of the storm. Two swordmasters dueling for supremacy. Chrom swung high, and Marth met him. Marth swung low, and Chrom met that. Sparks flew in all directions, a testament to the speed and fury of the two combatants. To an outside viewer, it was a blur. Each sword could only be seen by the faint blue aura that they seemed to radiate.

Finally, there was a gap, and the two back off. Chrom took this time to charge forward and do something ridiculous.

Chrom leapt high into the sky, and with a great feat of athleticism, flipped and brought Falchion down with even greater force.

"Okay, now that's not even humanly fucking possible," Aedan muttered to himself, slipping into the battle. He had been keeping an eye out of the duel, seeing if there were a way he could just go behind Marth and stab him or something. Maybe it wasn't honorable, but it certainly would have helped. That was, of course, before he saw that there were a few guys who wanted to stab Miriel in the face.

What surprised Aedan even more was that Marth blocked the blow. Without missing a beat, he turned the blow away and started his own offensive, slashing high. Chrom ducked, and bought his own sword upwards.

Like it was choreographed, the two kept at it, trading blow for blow.

Finally, there was a break in the action, and both fighters backed away from each other. Aedan thought they were tired or something, but then he remembered how, for whatever reason, Prince Chrom never actually fucking got tired. And apparently, neither did his opponent. In the blink of an eye, the two lunged at each other, blades aimed at throats. At the last second, Chrom shifted his sword, and instead of trying to murder Marth, aimed to block the blow instead. A great clang! echoed through the arena, and Chrom tried to find his footing again. For a such a slender man, Marth's strength was absurd. The two men landed behind one another, separated by a good ten feet.

Chrom turned, and saw Marth leaping high into the sky, and with a great feat of athleticism, flipping and bringing his own Falchion down with great force.

"What the fuck," Aedan questioned no one in particular. He decided that there really was no point in continuing watching this battle because apparently, it would just make him feel inadequate. And that would make his headache even worse. He decided that the only way to make himself feel better was to utterly thrash some poor Feroxi in a swordfight.

As Aedan stomped off to make some poor guy most likely wet his pants, the fierce duel continued. The two blades clanged against each other and locked in place, each swordsman trying to push the other off with their strength. Marth may have had a slight build, but Chrom found it difficult to even upset the man's footwork with his strength. He couldn't help but asking.

"Who taught you to fight like this?"

"My father!" Marth yelled, and pushed off, separating the dueling blades.

They only backed off for a brief second before they met with another stunning clash. Chrom uttered a battle cry as he slammed his blade into Marth's. Unafraid, Marth met him with equal vigor, jerking his sword forward. The two blades met with a clash of sparks, clanging and banging as each man attempted to murder the other. The two became a storm of swords. It was beautiful, if in a hauntingly terrifying way. As if the two were locked in a dance of death.

"How the fuck are they doing that?" Aedan coughed, the sand getting to him. The tramping of feet, and Sumia's fucking flying horse, had managed to make all of the sand in the arena fly about in a terrible sandstorm. In fact, Aedan was convinced he was going to have to take a very long bath in order to remove the sand that was irritating his unmentionables. And yet, the two blue haired assholes were in the middle of a tornado of dust, going at each other without a care in the world. It was as if they had suddenly become sand proof. Still, there was no time to think about that now. Quickly wiping the sand from his eyes, he moved back toward the rest of the Shepherds.

It also didn't help that his head was still splitting in half.

"Never drinking again," he moaned. "No, wait, that's a lie," he added as an after thought.

That guy approaching Miriel was getting close now, and Miriel's focus was on trying to turn one of the knight's massive armor into an oven. He was a taller man, wearing what looked liked a traditional Chon'Sin garb, with modifications to stand to the rigors of the Feroxi climate. Tufts of fur lined the outside of his jacket, providing lovely warmth against the harsh cold. Leather lined his vitals, giving him enough protection to take a blow or two, but enough speed to simply evade everything thrown his way. His hair was a black, messy, and spiky mess. In his hands was the famed weapon of the Chon'Sin swordmasters, a curved katana as they called it.

Ambushing mages? That was a classic Chon'Sin battle strategy. They liked killing the most dangerous thing against their elite light infantry. After all, their swordmasters could dodge almost anything, including a damn hail of arrows. There were usually enough gaps between the arrows that a supernaturally deft swordmaster could slip between them and be fine. But a massive wall of flame? Impossible. It was better to kill the ones who could shoot those fireballs in the first place.

An ex-soldier then, Aedan reasoned. "Hey, fuckboy!"

Aedan darted forward, and… stabbed nothing but air. With practiced ease, the man simply sidestepped the sword. Obviously. I'm hungover, and this is a swordmaster. What am I doing, exactly?

This is a bad idea.

The extent to how bad this idea was hadn't nearly dawned on Aedan yet, as he was too busy trying to avoid getting his head chopped off by an insanely sharp sword. The sword came from up high and Aedan quickly dove to the side. Picking himself up, he barely managed to put up his sword when the katana dove at his head. The curved sword slid off of his with a clang, and Aedan quickly scooted back.

Aedan scowled. It had been far too long since he had fought a swordmaster before, and even then, he had barely managed to defeat one with help. He wasn't nearly as polished of a swordsman as he used to be, and he was fighting one by himself.

I am dumb.

In the blink of an eye, the swordsmaster closed the distance that Aedan had painstakingly created.

"Aw fuck," Aedan cursed. He barely saw the sword blur into motion. He jerked his blade upward and was relieved to find his arms shaking from blocking the blow.

I need distance.

Aedan knew enough about fighting swordmasters, or at least, in theory. His sword was two sided, designed for hacking and stabbing. On the other hand, the katana was single sided, suitable mostly for slashing. If he could stay far away from the tip of the blade, he should be okay. He had a reach advantage, after all. All Aedan had to do was stay back and stab the bastard before he got close.

Too bad staying back was easier said than done.

Aedan ducked backwards again, and tried to make an opening. He feinted low, trying to catch the man off guard. It didn't work.

The swordmaster slid the blade away from him with a flick of his wrist. Then as if it were nothing, he twirled forward and slashed, bringing his blade frightfully close to Aedan's head. Aedan jerked back, but not quick enough. The blade just barely cut him, causing a fine trail of blood to leak from his face.

Aedan cursed again. Barely made it alive. The sword had just nicked his cheek, but that was far too close for comfort. Really, any closer and would probably be either missing a large chunk of his face or with a sword in his head.

Gods, this fucker was making a fool out of him!

Aedan pulled back again. Hang on, isn't this the definition of insanity? Why the fuck am I trying again?

This last exchange was going to be the end, Aedan decided. Either Aedan struck the man down, or he was going to find himself chilling with a bunch of deities in the afterlife.

He wasn't faster than the swordmaster, that was for certain. But maybe, he could trick him.

Or maybe he would just die horribly.

This was going to be stupid. If he were going to win this duel, he needed to catch the swordmaster off guard. Maybe if he could close in quickly, and disarm him? Wrist control, that was key. After all he couldn't win in a sword fight. Maybe he could win by just punching the shit out of him. Or maybe, he could disarm him, and end the duel quickly with a sword through the mouth. He liked the second idea much more.

That was the plan anyway. The two closed in on each other. Aedan ducked under the slash that went over his head and reached for the man's wrists.

Maybe if he weren't hungover, with the man's fucking wrists moving too fast and blurring together, it would have worked. Instead, Aedan just managed some sort of weird grope motion, grabbing the man's sleeve and ending with his forehead cracking resoundly against the swordmaster's face.

Still, he supposed it worked. After all, the headbutt managed to jar the katana from the swordmaster's fingers. The only problem was that his sword also dropped to the ground, leaving the two of them grappling like a bunch of ferocious idiots.

"Aedan, kindly lower yourself."

Deciding to heed the voice, Aedan did as he was told.

A blast of fire smashed into the man's back.

Aedan let go, ducked down, and held up his arm, trying to shield himself from the intense blast of heat.

When it was over, there was a smoking body on the ground, the smell of burning leather, and one female mage, standing a few feet away from the burning.

"Well, that was anticlimactic," Aedan muttered, picking himself off of the ground. He shook his arm a few times to try and get the lingering heat off of him.

Miriel simply pushed up her glasses. "Trivial."

Aedan rolled his eyes. "Sure, said the one without a massive headache and who can fucking throw fireballs out of her fingers."

"I do not "throw fireballs". It is a complicated process that-"

"Gods," Aedan muttered. He tuned the rest out. How the hell did that woman manage to somehow fit a magical lecture in when they were in the middle of a battlefield? Wonders, Aedan realized, never ceased.

"-relying on the concept, the metaphysical embodiment of fire-"

And she still hadn't stopped talking.

"Gods," Aedan repeated. He couldn't deal with this. There were still people to murder and listening to Miriel babble was going to make his headache worse.

"Miriel," Aedan said finally. Miriel looked at him, as if she were stunned at someone actually interrupting her lecture. "As much as I hate missing your lecture, let's wrap this thing up, shall we?"

Miriel looked a little bashful. "Ah, of course. The battle. My apologies, my mind wandered."

No fucking shit. Who the fuck else goes "my mind wandered" while there are people literally trying to kill you?

Aedan just walked away. Staying next to Miriel was going to make him lose brain cells. Luckily, him walking away was a good thing, because at that moment, he had noticed something very peculiar. That one guy he mentioned before any of the fighting actually started had been slinking toward Robin, moving incredibly stealthily for a man of his size and stature.

Aedan probably should have said something, because the guy decided to scream really really loudly, while preparing to turn Robin into human jelly.

"HULK SMASH PRETTY LADY!"

Robin turned quickly to see the same man that Aedan pointed out before the fight even started charging toward her with surprising speed.

"Oh crap."

With a monstrous roar, he chopped downward, hoping to make Robin nothing more than a red stain on the sand. With a mouse like yelp, Robin rolled out of the way, just barely dodging the axe that came crashing down, leaving a massive crack in the ground.

So it really sucked when Robin tried to scramble off of the ground and managed to trip on her cloak. For a momentary second, Robin felt incredibly confused as she felt a tugging, and then felt herself tumbling straight toward the ground again.

Is this real life?

Robin was incredulous. How did this happen? Yes, her cloak was long, but this had never happened. Okay, admittedly she had only had memories of the last couple of weeks, but still. She had examined her cloak, and she knew it was high quality craftwork. She knew it was thick enough to be warm during the winter months, but thin enough so it wasn't too heavy; long enough to cover her during terrible weather, short enough to fight in without tripping.

I've been betrayed by my own damn cloak!

"SMASH!" the man roared.

Robin did the only thing she could do. "Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, oh crap."

That was when she saw a blade sticking out of the man's throat. A soft gurgle came from the man, as he fell to the ground. With a vicious pull, Aedan yanked the blade out of the man's neck.

Robin took a deep breath, grateful that she was still alive. "I can't believe he actually said 'hulk smash pretty lady,'" Robin gasped, pushing herself off of the ground. Gingerly, she brushed the dirt off of her robe.

"I called it," Aedan muttered.

"Who actually says that?"

Aedan wiped his blade on "hulk's" trousers. "Him, apparently."

"Apparently," Robin repeated. "...thanks."

Aedan didn't respond, as he had already turned his attention to the, somehow, last conscious or surviving member of the other side. Somehow, Aedan wasn't surprised when he saw Chrom dueling Marth. What did surprise him was how the duel was turning out.

Chrom was struggling.

Try as he might, he couldn't make a single opening in Marth's defense. Each blow was met by a successful parry. Each lunge was blocked, and pirouetted away from.

Needless to say, Chrom was getting slightly frustrated. And even worse, he was getting tired. Marth on the other hand, was barely breathing hard. Chrom knew he had the stamina of an ox. He could train for an entire day and feel perfectly fine when it was all over. But this was absolutely ridiculous. Was Marth on super drugs or something?

So Chrom did something that no one expected.

Chrom punched him. Hard.

He pushed Marth's attack away, and without a second thought, twisted his hips and struck Marth as hard as he could. The resonant sound of fist striking cheek seemed to echo through the entire arena.

It was the first time in a long time anyone had taken Marth off guard. The blow surprised him. From what he knew, Prince Chrom was a duelist, skilled with all manners of the sword. But he was that, a duelist, not a fighter. He wasn't supposed to be punching people in the face. Stunned by the blow, Marth collapsed onto the ground. When he picked up his head, he found Falchion's tip at his neck.

"Surrender," Chrom said. Falchion's tip inched closer and closer towards Marth's throat.

A deep gulp. Chrom could see the dribbles of sweat falling down his opponent's neck. What felt like an eternity passed, and wayward thoughts ran through Chrom's head. What was this man doing? Why wasn't he surrendering? Instead, Marth was just staring at him, directly into his eyes. What the hell was he doing? Was he just going to take it? Was he one of those types? The ones who viewed defeat as the ultimate dishonor? Chrom didn't want to kill him. He really didn't. He had helped him, after all. Saved his beloved little sister from demon zombies. Fought to save Ylissean lives. Chrom liked the young man. Maybe he hadn't know him for a long time, but he had a feeling that he was a good person, with a noble heart. It would be a shame, no, a great waste, to kill the man here in an arena. He had a bright future ahead of him.

Then, finally, "I yield. You win this match, Prince Chrom."

Almost as if his arm had disappeared, the sword lowered from Marth's throat.

"THERE YOU HAVE IT FEROXI! AFTER FOUR YEARS UNDER OUR GREAT KHAN BASILIO WE MUST HAVE A NEW KHAN! ON THIS DAY, WE CROWN KHAN FLAVIA AS THE GRAND KHAN OF REGNA FEROX!"

Another wave of cheers.

The Shepherds burst out into a cheer too.

Aedan made a weak "hurray" sound and lifted his arm into the air as if it were a limp noodle.

"How are we?" Chrom asked, as he approached Robin and Aedan. He wiped the sweat from his face and burst out into a dumb grin.

"Battered, bleeding, and bruised. But alive," Robin replied, a small grin stretching on her lips. "Nice job taking on Marth. I don't think anyone of us could have dueled him to a standstill."

Chrom smiled a little and looked away. "Thanks, I suppose."

Robin's eyes lit up. Awww, is that a blush? That's adorable!

"You suppose?" She asked, clearly amused.

"Um. Was I not supposed to say that?"

"No, not really."

"Well, uh, I mean, you would have thought of something! Right? I mean, there were eight of us. And you're really smart. And tactical and... And... I think I'll stop talking now."

Robin laughed a little and shook her head. "Right. Might want to add 'learn to talk to women who I'm not related to' on your list of princely duties," she teased.

"I think I had that course when I was a child," Chrom replied, all too serious.

Robin did a double take. "Wait, seriously?"

"Prince Chrom has indeed," Frederick said, joining the conversation with a wry grin on his face. "He needed to take it after-"

Chrom cut the knight off. "Frederick. Not another word. That's an order from your prince."

"Oooohhh," Robin said with a bit of a giggle. "Pulling rank. Scary. Makes you wonder what he did."

Aedan snorted. "Something sexual, I'd bet."

Chrom's distinct lack of words told everyone that, yes, it was something sexual.

Lucky for him, before everyone could start interrogating him, he was rescued by Marth. The man limped gingerly towards them, his arms and legs still quaking from the exertion.

"I commend you on an excellent duel, Lord Chrom," he said. "It seems the stories of your fighting prowess are not exaggerated."

Chrom nodded in acknowledgement, and held out his hand. "You as well. Your fighting style is Ylissean, might I ask where you are from?"

Marth took the offered hand and shook. A ghost of a smile flashed upon his lips. "From the capital, milord. Although, it has been many years since I have been."

"Ah, I see. Then -"

Marth cut the Prince off. "I apologize, Prince Chrom, but I must be departing." Without another word, the man turned on his heel and marched away.

Lissa sighed, batting her eyelashes at Marth's retreating figure. "He's so dark and mysterious…"

Aedan snorted. "He's also probably a woman," he muttered. Seriously, no man was that slender… right?

Robin laughed. "Looks like he's got at least one fan."

Fredrick maintained his ever present smile. "Now Prince, if this conversation is over, I suggest we hurry back to Ylisse. I'm sure the Exalt would like to hear of our success."

Chrom just smiled back. "Please, Fredrick. We can rest for the night. Let our men rest tonight and we will march back tomorrow. We should celebrate! We just won a great alliance!"

It seemed as if the people trickling to meet with the Prince and his posse was never ending, as right after they finished discussing Marth, they were met with another man. This time, it was the West Khan, and now former Khan of Regna Ferox, Basilio. Not that Chrom knew that of course. Aedan and Robin had already deduced his identity, but Chrom was a little more… thick headed.

The man moaned. "You just had to come by, didn't you?"

"The only thing I'm getting out of this is that we're finally going to war with those damn Plegians," he said. "Couldn't damn well do what I please with Flavia breathing down my neck and trying to take over my seat as Khan," he added under his breath.

Chrom was a little baffled. After all, here was a massive hulk of a man that just came over to him and complained. "Uhhh…" Chrom started smartly. "Have we met?"

Aedan rolled his eyes. He's the fucking Khan, dumbass.

"Have we met, he asks," the man said with a shake of his head. "Have we met? I'm Basilio. I'm the damn Khan you just took out of power! Well, you're damn handy with a sword, I'll give you that. Could have sworn I picked the better man."

"Ah, the West Khan! Forgive me for not recognizing you."

Basilio brushed off the comment. "Look, I already know that Flavia is going to throw our support to you, and let me say that I serve my country proudly. If Flavia marches to war under your banner, I march to war under your banner."

Chrom nodded, a determined look in his eye. "Good. We will need all the help we can get. We are grateful for your aid, Khan Basilio."

The man grunted. "Good." Then, he turned and left.

Aedan just stared after him. "What the hell is with people just leaving? At least say goodbye."


I'm not dead, I swear. I just have these things called writer's block and procrastination. Which is probably why this chapter kind of sucks. This chapter bounced around a bunch, so I apologize for anyone being confused.

So... yeah. Things. We've been building for a few chapters. Next chapter is already half way written and shit gets real in it. I think. GET HYPE(?).

Hope you enjoyed.