Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.


Robin stood alone in a forest filled with dark trees. Somewhere not too far off, she could hear the sound of running water.

Sunlight made its way through a canopy that cut it into strange leafy shapes and tinted it with green. The air smelled of moss and rich earth.

She stood, frozen. Heart hammering in her chest. Fear coated her tongue with a bitter tang. And all about her was a great pressure. As if an invisible force were trying to crumple the world into a tight ball. Crushing everyone and everything within it.

And then it spoke her name on the breath of a brittle wind.

"Robin."

Fear clenched her heart. Squeezed her lungs. Time slowed, and in that moment, she watched a lifetime go past.

"Robin. Hey, Robin!"

Something latched onto her shoulder.

With a silent cry, she twisted around, her arms out to fend off the attack. As she moved, her legs got caught on something.

And she was falling.

Robin landed on hard, smooth stone. She gasped for breath, but her movements were restricted by something she couldn't quite make out.

"Are you okay, Robin?" Lissa bent next to her, peering at her with concern. She held her staff at the ready, but the green gem remained dull.

Robin nodded. She pushed herself up while Lissa helped her untangle herself from her blankets.

When she stood, her hands were shaking. She hugged herself as the nightmare faded, leaving behind only the faceless terror.

"You sure?" Lissa leaned close, checking for any sign of a concussion.

Robin nodded again. Then, to prove her point, she dropped her arms lightly to her sides and straightened the ribbons of her sleeping shift.

"Well, if you weren't awake before, you should be now." Lissa stepped back, satisfied that the only thing that had been injured that morning was Robin's pride.

It was then that Robin realized the light coming in from the open window was a soft pearly gray. She leaned against the windowsill, willing her heart to slow.

The sun wasn't even up yet, though from the faint blushing at the horizon, it wouldn't be long until it rose.

Did the Shepherds always rise this early, she wondered with a tinge of horror.

She turned to Lissa who was busy sorting through the pile of clothes she'd arranged, but had fallen asleep before she'd put them away.

Lissa held up a simple blue kirtle that laced at the sides. "Sorry. Chrom said something about a meeting and asked if I'd help you get ready for it."

Robin frowned.

Meeting? This early? Her fingers were stiff, but managed to convey the unspoken idea that people had no business rising before the sun. Sane people. Which some people clearly weren't.

"Not a morning person, huh?" Lissa laughed and handed her her clothing. "By Frederick's account, you slept in."

While Robin struggled to comprehend a thought process so foreign as to hardly be human, Lissa jerked her thumb toward the door.

"I'll wait outside for you."

Sighing, Robin gave her mattress a final look of longing before she got dressed. It took a few minutes to work the knots out of her hair, but the comb fit her hand with a familiarity that soothed her, even if she had no memory of it prior to the day before.

To her delight, her coat had been laid neatly across the chest at the foot of her bed, brushed and mended, and only faintly smelling of fire.

She slipped her boots on as she put it on, pausing before she went to meet Lissa. The weight of the coat was reassuring on its own, but she needed a little more to anchor herself.

Fortunately her coat had many pockets.

Only after she'd collected an ink bottle, the knife, one block of wood, a slightly bent quill, and a blank leather bound book, did she feel confident enough to start the day.

"Ready?" Lissa asked after she'd opened the door.

When Robin nodded, she was telling only the smallest of fibs.

"Good." Lissa started off. "We'd better hurry though. I got, uh, a little distracted on the way over. Cookie was baking her special cinnamon bread twists—I can't wait for you to try them. They're delicious!"

Robin nodded. Food sounded like a very good idea. Hopefully this meeting of Chrom's either came with breakfast or was short enough for it not to make a difference.

As they walked through a maze of corridors, Lissa would periodically wave to and greet everyone that crossed their path, servant and distinguished visitors alike. Until, at last, they stopped in front of two great doors inlaid with silver.

"Well, here we are. Don't worry. Most of them are more bark than bite." With a cheerful wave to both Robin and the footmen, Lissa went on her way.

Robin faced the doors with trepidation. Who, exactly, was more bark than bite? And what was this meeting for anyway? She'd sort of quietly assumed it had something to do with the Shepherds, but Chrom wasn't just a captain. He was a prince as well.

While her stomach twisted itself into knots, her hands went cold and clammy. The footman watched her impassively until she squared her shoulders and hid her hands in her sleeves.

With a move that worked as both a nod and a bow, the footman opened one of the doors. Obeying the unspoken command, Robin walked through the doorway.

And would have turned on her heel and walked back out if the doorman hadn't closed the door behind her.

The room was lovely, if sparsely furnished. Dark green drapes hung from ceiling to floor along the windows lining the opposite wall, open wide enough to allow the pale gleam of early sunlight to pass through.

But it was the large oval table in the center of the room that drew her eye. Mostly because it was filled with people in fancy and expensive looking clothing who were watching her with pursed lips. And if that wasn't enough, every chair had at least one or two people standing behind them.

"Robin," Chrom stood and greeted her, gesturing to the lone empty chair next to him.

Her feet seemed to have forgotten how to walk, while at the same time her mind stuttered to a halt. What was she doing here? She didn't belong here. What had Chrom been thinking?

In the end, it was Frederick—stationed behind Chrom—who got her moving. He didn't move or say anything. He just looked at her.

She slipped into the seat, very much aware that all eyes, including those stationed behind most of the chairs, were on her.

"This is her?" A lady with long, dark hair swept up into an elaborate coiffure gave her a calculating look.

"Yes." Chrom gave Robin a reassuring smile, but she was too busy imagining all the ways she would be found wanting to properly attend.

She jumped when Chrom slid a piece of vellum over to her. He placed an inkwell next to the vellum, but she produced her own quill before he had a chance to offer her one.

"We just need you to write about what happened with the Risen." Chrom seated himself and shuffled through a stack of parchments in front of him.

She raised a brow.

"The name for the foul creatures we battled in the forest," Frederick murmured.

"We are seeking to find a way to protect our people from this new threat," the Exalt said. Her eyes were every bit as kind as Chrom's, but they had a serenity his lacked. "As we gather the intelligence for the full assembly, we want to make certain we have as many details as possible."

Robin nodded, thankful that no one expected her to speak.

As she uncapped the ink, Chrom leaned close enough to murmur something about vivid imaginations, grisly deaths, and to stop it already.

Taking a deep breath, she focused all of her attention on the vellum before her. She could still see the battles they'd waged in her mind's eye. What they'd asked of her wasn't difficult by any means, but as she dipped her quill, she wondered why it was so important that she do it here, in this room. Did they think she would lie? Or were they worried the information might get out before they wanted it to?

"All messengers have been dispatched," a lord with hair graying at his temples said.

"Thank you, Lord Rhys." The Exalt's sweet voice helped ease some of the tension in the room. "I know these are difficult times, but now, more than ever, duty requires we do all in our power to protect our people."

Robin bit her lip as she scratched out every detail she recalled. Soon the voices of the various lords and ladies became a pleasant background noise to offset the grim reminder of all that had transpired before.

Once she had outlined everything she remembered, she sketched out a bird's eye map of the fortress. Mapping out everyone's positions, she drew arrows to show movement and engagement patterns. Robin's cheeks burned as she purposely left the back of the fortress unguarded, just as she had at the time.

As the visual account of the battle formed, every mistake, every misstep she'd taken, became glaringly obvious.

What would she have done if Sully and Virion hadn't met up with them in time?

"If I may?" Frederick held out his hand.

Robin blew on the last bit of ink to dry it before she handed her papers over to him.

Frederick stared at them while she flexed her sore hand. His brow furrowed for a moment before he turned them over to face the wrong side up. His face cleared, and he gave her an inscrutable look before devoting his attention to her account.

Robin shifted uncomfortably. Now that she'd finished her task, did that mean she could go? Writing things down had woken her mind sufficiently that she no longer felt mostly dead. A good breakfast was the only thing left to cement the deal.

She looked to Chrom for permission to leave. He tilted his head to the side and raised a shoulder in half a shrug.

Doing her best to be discreet, she signed, May I go now?

He smiled at her, but shook his head. Before she had a chance to ask why, Frederick handed her papers off to Chrom.

He gave Frederick an odd look, and turned the papers right side up. Then his eyes widened, and he flipped them back.

Robin slumped down in her chair. She'd made a mistake somewhere, she had to have. Had she not written clearly enough? And why was Chrom giving Frederick a victorious look?

Frederick's lips tightened into a single line, but he nodded stiffly.

Hmm. Frederick wasn't happy, so that must mean they'd decided not to throw her out of the Shepherds before she'd even really started. So why had they looked at her like she'd sprouted a second head?

"Have you found something of note?" the Exalt asked, gently reminding them that they weren't the only ones in the room.

"A few details I hadn't thought to mention." Chrom passed the papers to the Exalt except for the map.

Robin waited for the Exalt to comment on whatever it was she'd done wrong, but she simply read what had been written without shuffling the papers about.

Once she had finished, the Exalt placed the papers down on the table and gave Robin a kind smile. "Thank you, Robin. If you would like some breakfast, I'm sure—"

Finally, Robin thought. This was the dismissal she'd been waiting for. She could almost taste those cinnamon twists Lissa had told her about.

Chrom cleared his throat.

"Chrom?" The Exalt clasped her hands on top of the table.

"Sorry, Emm, but now that I have a tactician, she should stay to be apprised of the situation."

Robin frowned. What did his tactician have to do with keeping her here?

"Ah."

"What's this about a tactician?" A lord dressed in green stood, leaning on the table.

To Robin's utter astonishment, Chrom gestured to her. "Robin will serve as my tactician for the Shepherds."

The uproar his simple declaration caused was immediate. It was, however, drowned out by Robin's own surprise.

What had Chrom been thinking? Had he lost his wits completely? Or had he taken a sharp blow to the head that Lissa had somehow missed?

"Now is not the time for japes," the same lord from before insisted. "The Shepherds are our first line of defense. How could she possibly lead them?"

Exactly! Robin gave Chrom a pointed look, silently urging him to listen to reason.

"Lord Daerin has a point," a girl near her own age said in something only just louder than a whisper.

Another lord, this one in red, stood. "Precisely. A tactician must be able to relay orders, and not just plan them out. Things can change rapidly on a battlefield, and your tactician must be able to issue new orders quickly."

Robin squeezed her hands into fists, but held them under the table. Even though they were only giving voice to all the objections lining up between her lips, their words stung.

"And I have full faith in Robin's ability to do so," Chrom said firmly. He was no longer smiling.

"The Shepherds are, as you say Lord Daerin, our first line of defense. A position they've earned on their own merit." The Exalt spoke as gently as she always had, but there was a slight edge to her words that was felt rather than heard. She waited as most of those assembled nodded somewhat grudgingly. "You have long trusted my brother to keep the halidom safe, have you not?"

"Yes."

Frederick stepped forward. "I admit I have reservations of my own," he said. "But even so, I cannot fail to see Robin's capabilities both on and off the field." He gestured to the map in front of Chrom.

The lord's jaw tightened, and a vein bulged near his temple. "You are asking us to also put our faith in a stranger. A nobody we have no way of properly judging. That is not the same thing as trusting Prince Chrom."

"She isn't a nobody."

"Ah, then she is an experienced tactician. Why did you not say so at the start?"

"Please," Lady Illonia said, her gaze darting bird-like between Lord Daerin and Chrom. "Perhaps if we had more information. What battles she has led and where she received her training."

All reasonable questions.

"I'm afraid we don't have access to that information." Chrom's scowl deepened as the room erupted into a chaos of voices. Some demanded explanations, others expressed shock, horror, outrage. Chrom, for his part, looked taken aback by the sudden storm he'd set off.

With every pointed comment, every withering look, the pressure pounding down on Robin increased. Despite the crushing weight, she kept her spine stiff and her gaze straight ahead. Some part of her sensed that if she cried or showed any weakness, not even Chrom could prevent her being ejected unceremoniously from the castle, if not Ylisse itself.

Chrom raised his hand for silence. "Lack of knowledge does not mean that such knowledge or training doesn't exist. We are hopeful that Robin's amnesia isn't permanent—"

"Amnesia?"

"Not only can she not talk, but she has no memories at all?"

Murmurs of "Not fit to lead!" and "This is madness!" rose in a steady crescendo.

"Assuming this is all truth, Your Grace." A dour man who looked as though he'd been on his way to a pay his respects to the recently departed stood. "You are asking we put our faith—and the welfare of those entrusted to our care—in the hands of one who is as of yet unproven among our ranks."

"Where did you find her?" a lady with dark hair and a blue gown asked. The lady arched a perfectly manicured brow. "Unless you found her by the side of the road, that may give us some information to work with."

Robin blinked quickly as her fingernails carved half moons into her palm. The lords and ladies had made it all too clear how absurd it had been for Chrom to place his faith in her. What a fool she had been to even imagine that she could belong here.

"We found Robin just outside of Southtown," Frederick spoke up unexpectedly, and Robin braced herself for when he confirmed the fear that had spoken in jest. To her surprise, he said nothing further.

The lord in red narrowed his eyes. "Where outside of Southtown?"

"A league or so away." Chrom did not look happy, but his gaze never wavered.

The lord blinked and gave a humorless laugh. "Surely you do not mean to place a guttersnipe you found on the wayside in one of the most powerful and influential posts this court has to offer."

The Exalt placed a restraining hand on Chrom's arm when he slammed his hands down on the table. "We would be remiss to so quickly rescind that trust we have placed in Chrom and the decisions he's made. Perhaps a short break and some refreshments are in order."

The moment the Exalt gave her dismissal, Robin was on her feet and through the door. She forced herself to walk until the corridor led to a corner. Once she'd turned with it, she ran.

Some distant part of her recognized the startled faces of servants as she sprinted past them. Another part heard her name shouted from behind. But everything else narrowed down to a single focus: escape.

Robin soon lost track of how many times she rounded a corner and fled down a new corridor. The condemnation the lords and ladies had voiced beat against her heart with every step she took. She didn't stop running until she burst through a half hidden door and found herself free from the confines of the castle.

Hugging herself against the bewildering array of emotions storming inside her, she followed a small path that branched into another.

Why had their words hurt so much? They were no different from many of her own thoughts.

She was a nobody, so far as she knew. What business did she have serving as a tactician for the Shepherds?

None!

That one word cut deeper than all the rest. She had been a fool to think she belonged here. That she could possibly have been one of them.

But if she didn't belong here, then where did she belong?

The thought stopped her cold in her tracks.

Robin finally looked around before stumbling over to a fancifully carved wooden bench.

She'd landed in a garden of sorts, although it mostly consisted of living green walls of hedgerows that created a cozy, isolated area. There would be no fancy nobles here, demanding a pedigree she couldn't give. A small pond in the corner glinted with sunlight, and a few potted plants lightly perfumed the air.

The feeling of unfettered peace in the garden soothed some of the knots in her stomach. She leaned against the bench and tipped her head back to stare at the sky. Why had everything gone so wrong?

Her fingers burrowed into the pockets of her coat, surfacing with a block of wood and the little knife from her pack. The shapes felt comfortable in her hands. Familiar, even. So she allowed her hands to have free rein while she grappled the storm. The sound of metal scraping across wood was almost a lullaby to her ears.

Truth shouldn't have the power to wound her as it had. The nobles had valid concerns. Concerns she had shared. Was she such a weak little thing that cracked and broke beneath the slightest touch of criticism? A tactician held the life of his troops in his hands. Her hands were simply to small for the task.

So why did it feel as though that pit of emptiness had widened until it was big enough to swallow her whole?

"Sometimes by brother's good sense outpaces his ability to express it properly."

Robin started, dropping the wooden block, as the Exalt seated herself on the bench opposite her.

She surged to her feet, face burning, head bowed with mortification.

"Such formalities are not necessary here." The Exalt smiled at her as though the events of the morning hadn't happened and they had simply met by happy circumstance. She bent forward and picked up the lump of wood Robin had been sawing her frustrations upon. "This is lovely. My brother failed to mention your talent with carving."

Robin ducked her head. She hadn't been paying attention to what she'd been doing, so whatever she had been carving was likely an abomination. Just like herself.

"If you don't mind my asking, what sort of bird is it?" The Exalt turned the roughly hewn carving in her hand.

Robin shook her head. She hadn't had time to cut in the details and smooth away the irregularities made by uneven strokes. The thing was only barely bird-shaped, and even that was a generous assessment.

The Exalt continued to study the carving as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. "I am afraid I must apologize on behalf of the heads of the noble houses of Ylisse. Fear can sometimes rob a person of their trust and security right when they need it the most."

Robin curled the fingers of her free hand into her palm, remembering.

"And it doesn't help matters any when my brother forges a sure path through uncharted lands, certain of the vision of which he hasn't adequately laid out the groundwork." The Exalt paused until she caught Robin's eye. "But that's only part of the problem, isn't it?"

Robin's reply forged a fiery path up the back of her throat, the words coating her tongue with lightning. But no matter how many words she choked on, they would never fly free, never be heard.

"It is a hard thing to think without the release of speaking the words aloud, even if only to yourself." A depth of understanding softened the Exalt's expression, and for a moment, Robin saw her as the person she was without the title or crown. "I think perhaps these may be of some use."

Shyly, Robin took the vellum and stylus the Exalt held out. She stared at the blank page, uncertain of where she should begin.

"Chrom says you fight bravely. That even in all the chaos surrounding you, you kept your head."

Robin frowned and her fingers twitched. Did she give life to her words or the kind of words the Exalt might wish to hear?

As if following her thoughts, the Exalt gestured to the blank page. "Please, I would like to hear it in your own words."

Robin crooked her mouth to the side. She'd already made a fool of herself by running away. There wasn't much worse she could do. She tucked the knife away. Pulling the bottle of ink from her pocket, she dipped the stylus in and used the blank book to write upon.

Chrom knows less than he thinks. She nearly crossed the words out, but the Exalt had slipped in next to her and was reading over her shoulder. I was terrified, and while it might have looked like I was brave and kept my head, I was just lucky.

"Do you really believe that?"

Robin thought back to that desperate moment when she threw her sword in the brigand's general direction. Then to the missing back palisade at the fort. I know it. Chrom sees merit when it was luck that carried the day. Then, remembering who she was addressing, she hurriedly added a belated, Your Grace.

"Please, you may call me Emmeryn." She leaned closer as if sharing a secret. "It is nice to hear my own name sometimes. Hearing it reminds me that beneath the crown, I am simply myself."

The Exalt—Emmeryn—turned her attention back to what Robin had written.

"From all accounts, if luck was the deciding factor, you were exceedingly lucky."

Robin frowned and nodded. The empty part of her went a little more hollow. As if, by telling the truth, she had betrayed a part of herself somehow.

"Is it so bad to be lucky?" Emmeryn's tone was too innocent to be a simple question.

Having traveled with Emmeryn's siblings, Robin had learned enough to know where this was headed.

What Chrom asks is impossible. Luck is good until it's gone. No one is lucky every time. Once a tactician's luck runs out, people die.

"Ah."

Robin furrowed her brow in confusion.

"You are afraid of losing someone."

The words struck her heart with such force that she couldn't breathe. Time slowed until it seemed frozen. And in the spaces between the then, the now, and the yet to be, Robin thought she saw the shadow of a silver-haired woman with green eyes and a sad smile.

"Chrom may seem naively optimistic," Emmeryn said, seeming to choose her words with care. "But his instincts are sound. I could not afford to trust him otherwise, no matter how much my heart might wish to."

Robin's eyes widened as Emmeryn gestured to the crown that framed the back of her head like a halo. And here she'd been worried about what amounted to a handful of lives compared to those an Exalt was duty bound to protect.

"I do not ask you to go against the dictates of your own heart. I ask only that you consider what choice you would make if, perchance, my brother's perceptions are correct. That, if so, you might trust in him as he trusts in you."

Trust Chrom.

The words, so softly spoken, sounded loudest of all.

Emmeryn plucked the stylus from her fingers. She placed something in Robin's hands and wrapped her suddenly nerveless fingers around it.

"We are all very much like this bird of yours. Rough and unfinished in the moment, but every line bursting with potential."

"Emm. Emm, are you—" Chrom stopped short as he came into view. Or, rather, when they did.

Robin couldn't seem to remember how to breathe, let alone move. She could only watch, helpless, as Emmeryn gathered her skirts and stood.

"I am afraid I have some unfinished business with the court. If you will excuse me . . ."

Before either of them could collect themselves well enough to protest, Emmeryn had gone.

Chrom rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find the words, any words, that might salvage the situation. "I'm sorry." He cleared his throat, wincing. "It was brought to my attention rather . . . firmly . . . that I made a mess of things."

Robin crossed her arms, not yet certain whether she was ready to forgive him quite yet.

"I ought to have asked you before announcing it to the most powerful people in the kingdom. For that, I'm sorry."

Now it was Robin's turn to grimace. She had known everyone seated at that table was important, but she hadn't connected that with Emmeryn's words well enough to understand how important. Until now.

Lovely. Just . . . lovely.

"Why do I get the feeling that my apology only made things worse?" Chrom sat on the edge of the bench farthest from her.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Giving her carving one last look, Robin tucked it away. Now, to deal with one bafflingly stubborn prince and then maybe, just maybe, she could beg some food from that Cookie of Lissa's.

"Robin?"

Her fingers were moving before she'd finished her thought. You heard what they said.

Chrom's jaw tightened. "They'll come around. They weren't there. They didn't see what Frederick, Lissa, and I saw."

They spoke the truth. Those words were burning embers to her heart.

His scowl vanished. "Is that really what you think? That you're a nothing? A nobody?"

Robin sighed, and her shoulders slumped. I don't know who I am, nor do you. In their place, I would have raised the same objections.

"You're wrong." Chrom spoke with an intensity that surprised her. "And so are they. With time, they will see. It is my hope that you will as well."

What makes you so certain? Her melancholy was starting to give way to temper. Why couldn't he just listen to reason and let her be?

He stared at her for a moment, a look of indecision crossing his face before his expression settled into pinched brows and a frown. "This is something you're going to have to trust me on."

Robin gaped at him. How could he have . . .

Sensing he had somehow gained an advantage, Chrom pressed forward. "Trust is integral to the Shepherds. You haven't been one long enough to see it in action, but that trust is what enables us to do what we do. It's what keeps us alive on the field."

And if . . . Robin's mouth went dry. The echo Emmeryn's observation had stirred wasn't something she was ready to face yet. Besides, the moment she lost her memory was the point in time she lost everyone she had ever known.

If I fail, what of all that trust then?

Chrom's brow furrowed. "If you fail, you just get back up and try again. The Shepherds are always there to lend a hand."

Robin ducked her head. Everything he'd said about the Shepherds sounded almost too good to be true. But the specter of the missing back palisade wasn't so easy to dismiss. Nor words of truth barbed with thorns.

Chrom . . .

You're placing all their lives in my hands. What if I make a mistake? What if someone

"Dies?" The bleak look in his eyes told her he wasn't drawing on hypotheticals.

She nodded, hating a part of herself for dredging up old pain.

"Robin, every time we set foot onto the battlefield, we do it with the knowledge that this might be the day when we slip or miss or fall. We couldn't be effective if we didn't believe we were going to come home after. Yet every soldier must also accept that this might be their last battle. There is madness in war, and we all carry on as best we can. Together."

She searched his face for even the slightest hint of deception, for even the smallest sign that his ideals and his reality diverged. But all she saw was open honesty. When it came to Chrom, she suspected that what you saw was what you got.

He laughed softly. "That you even have these reservations is proof enough that I made the right call."

You could always be wrong, you know.

"It's possible," he said, laughter edging his tone. The smile he gave her was a playful one. "While I don't want you to prove me wrong, the only way you'll get to say 'I told you so' is if you accept your commission to serve as the tactician to the Shepherds."

Robin dropped her gaze to where her hands were worrying the edge of her coat. She could say no and walk away, only having lost what might be in some distant future. Or she could say yes. Yes to that faraway voice in her mind urging her to put all her trust and faith in a man who was a perfect stranger. Yes to an uncertain future and all the joys and sorrows that entailed.

Yes to embracing, not shunning, all her deepest fears.

You must promise me one thing.

"Name it, and it's yours." Chrom's relief was nearly palpable.

Robin arched a brow in surprise. You ought to be more careful in giving open-ended promises. What if I had asked for the halidom?

"But you aren't."

I could have.

"You didn't though."

She frowned at him. Chrom . . .

He caught her hands in his. "You're missing the point, Robin. I trust in your discretion to never ask for something you shouldn't."

It was incredible the way Chrom could trust so freely. No reservations. Just simple faith.

Of course, that same trust could be the end of him one day. And likely it would be.

"I've seen that look too often," he said, releasing her hands and leaning back against the bench. He idly picked up a loose piece of vellum that had fallen against the flagstones. "I am who I am, Robin. I can't change that, and I wouldn't want to."

If I ever . . . If I ever give you cause to lose faith in me or my ability to keep all of you safe, you must cut me loose.

He flipped the page over. "Not going to happen."

Chrom.

He lifted his gaze to meet hers. "You are who you are, Robin. And that person is someone I have faith in."

But if

He shifted impatiently. "How about this—if ever you lead us all to a terrible, grisly end, you shall be relieved of your duties as tactician forthwith."

I'm serious, Chrom.

He folded the vellum and tucked it away into a pouch on his belt before crossing his arms. "That's the best offer you're going to get, so I'd advise you to take it."

Her refusal was on the tip of her tongue, and she would have set it free but for one thing. If there was something she had learned today, it was how many people trusted Chrom to a bewildering degree. Now that she was away from the whispers and glares, she could see that there had been hurt beneath the court's incredulity. Even then, it hadn't been him they'd rejected, but her.

"My word is final when it comes to the Shepherds, so you needn't fear on that count. The court has no say as we are not technically the Ylissian army."

Robin highly doubted the court would have nothing to say about the matter. Which meant, she realized, that she was not only going to have to prove herself to the other Shepherds, but to the court as well. She could not allow that trust to be broken on her account.

You trust me despite everything?

"I do."

I—fine. But remember, you promised. And this was the sort of promise she'd remind him of, daily if necessary. She'd even enlist Frederick's assistance if that's what it took to save Chrom from his own good intentions.

"Right. Now that that's settled, what are your plans?"

Robin frowned, thinking. If she was going to assume the duty of keeping everyone alive, then she had a lot to do. She needed to—

Chrom tapped her on the shoulder, reminding her he was still there. Robin sighed. Her fingers would fall off before she'd finish spelling everything out. Lifting the bottle of ink, she opened her book to the first page and drew her quill out of her pocket. Shifting so he could see, she began her list.

assess each Shepherd—fighting abilities, strengths, weaknesses, favored weapon, any other useful skills and trades

catalogue all available resources—food, weapons, equipment

study maps of topography of surrounding areas most likely to see an incursion of foreign troops

study Ylissian history, culture, geography

study past and present military strategies of Ylisse and all surrounding countries

Robin paused, suddenly self-conscious. The next few were of a more personal nature, and she didn't like how vulnerable she felt by not only committing them to ink, but allowing anyone else to see them. Especially when that someone else was her superior.

"That's . . . quite a list."

Well, she had warned him. And how could she expect the others to allow her to do what she was afraid of doing for herself? Lips pressed together, she forced herself to go on.

purchase a new sword and learn how to use it

research magic, magical recoil, possible causes and potential solutions

create a language using hand motions for words rather than just letters; brainstorm communication methods that may be used quickly and effectively on the battlefield

Robin glanced up then. Chrom's eyes were narrowed and a line had formed between his eyes as he focused on what she'd written. Part of her cringed away from the condemnation that was surely coming her way. The rest of her was determined to see this through. Chrom couldn't lead effectively if he wasn't aware of potential problems that could interfere with their future engagements.

She knew when he got to the last few items, because his lips quirked into a grin he made no effort to hide. When he was finished, he leaned back.

"How long do you think it will take you to do all this?"

A month for most. Longer for a few.

Chrom nodded and stood. "We have six days."

Robin resisted the urge to Thunder some sense into him. It was surprisingly easy, given her Thunder tome was in her room.

Why?

Chrom rested his hand lightly on the hilt of his sword. "The Shepherds have been working to form and train militias in every village in Ylisse. It's one of the reasons we've been trekking all over the halidom.

"But while some of the villages may be able to face bandits and the like successfully, none of them have been prepared to fight the Risen."

He looked firm and resolute, the very image of the captain giving his report, but his eyes pleaded with her to understand.

And she did. She had seen those things up close, and she wouldn't have wished them on her worst enemy—whoever that might have been. And certainly not on innocent villages.

"I know I'm asking for the impossible, but remember you don't have to do that all by yourself. Any and all of us will be at your disposal."

All right.

She gave him an unhappy look before capping her ink and making sure the it had dried properly before closing her book. Robin stowed everything in her pockets and got to her feet. She was going to be very busy, so she might as well get started.

"Frederick will probably use this as an excuse to reinstate his Fanatical Fitness Hour," Chrom said with a rueful laugh as they followed the path back to the barracks. She gave him a questioning look, but he shook his head. "Don't ask. You'll sleep better not knowing what's about to be unleashed upon us all."

She sighed, and her stomach let out a grumble that was distinctly dragon-like.

"Ha. Yes, I think we'll start in the kitchens." Chrom led them in a slightly different direction.

But I—

"A veritable mountain of work, yes, I know. One of the first things you'll learn as a Shepherd is that you can't do your job very well if you're swaying on your feet and faint from hunger."

Chrom's jaw was set in that particular way of his whenever he was about to be intractably stubborn. Much as she wanted to argue, he had a point. She'd be able to work faster and more efficiently without her stomach distracting her. Besides, she could always have her revenge upon him later—when he least expected and wasn't looking for it.

Robin tugged on his arm to slow him down. How do I arrange an assessment for each Shepherd?

"I'll see to it first thing after you eat," Chrom promised. "I meant what I said earlier. Every Shepherd will lend a hand—two, if need be. You're not in this alone anymore."

Robin nodded in acknowledgment of what he'd said, but the idea still sat rather uncomfortably in her heart. It was large, unwieldy, and she had no idea what to make of it.

But to her surprise, she wanted to plant it and see what it looked like in full bloom. And so, for the moment, she allowed herself to bask in the unexpected friendships she'd found.

And those that were yet to be.


A/N: So Robin may or may not be a bit of a pack rat. She's also in the process of discovering talents she's forgotten she had. When I first wrote this, I was as surprised as Robin was when Emmeryn saw a bird in a block of roughly carved wood. It fit the arc her carving is going to take, so I left it in.

Robin's introduction to Ylisse was always going to be bumpy. I couldn't imagine everyone going along with Chrom's plan to have her serve as his tactician without a few reservations. The court, it turned out, had more than a few. It was lucky that Emmeryn got to Robin first.

The next few chapters will focus on Robin prepping for the upcoming journey to Regna Ferox. She's going to get a sense of who the Shepherds are, but it will take her a little longer to get the bigger picture. And they of her.

Chrom managed to be subtle once in this chapter, so I'm counting that as a win. It may be a while before that happens again. .

Ahnah: Thank you. :) I'm kind of partial to Robin's inner sassiness too.

qwq qweqq: No worries. The first thing I did once I realized Robin wasn't going to be able to talk is brainstorm her try-fail cycle to address this issue. Luckily she's paranoid enough that her contingency plans have contingency plans.