Lost in Ylisse: Ashigaru

by Annoying POW marine

Harvest never wanted for much, growing up. Family, friends, everything he could ever want was his, or within reach. Now, he finds himself at the center of warring feudal armies, undead, and divine forces on Ylisse. Will he realize what game hes in? Probably not, after all he never played the game. Maybe, he'll pull though, after all he is an Ashigaru. Insert, Gamer, 3rd person.

10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own fire emblem series nor do I make money from this. Seriously does anyone on this site own anything?

AN: Ok, first of all. My beta moved out of country for a bit, so assume grammar and writing errors. She'll receive this chapter after this has been posted. Please tell me of any you find in reviews or PM.

Also yes, my release schedule is abysmal but I need to study for MCAT… and need to break some bad habits. I'm sorry.

Sentence

"Talk"

'Thought'

*Sound*

-Place-

Document

-East Kahn's box, Hippodrome, Regna Ferox-

Robin was furious, the most she ever been.

…For what little memories she had to work with at least.

Things were going alright arriving at Regna Ferox, but it seemed this land had a habit of working her last nerve raw. She could forgive the issues at the border, but Vaike just had to show off. Sully had been baited into another loss. Not that she could blame the crimson equestrian currently in recovery. While she expected some back and forth in these matches, Adon's comments just rubbed salt to the wound.

…But none of these matched just much Flavia was pushing her already rising blood pressure. One could argue, Flavia had due right in calling Harvest to fight. One could also argue, Robin should lightning her to death or submission for doing so.

In retrospect who else was supposed to fight Lon'qu? Perhaps the dependable and experienced Frederick, rather than the obviously new Harvest. Something about Flavia ordering it instead of her made her boil.

The upset cauldron in her stomach churned with something vile. Resentment? Worry?

Whichever it was, it didn't settle as the West Champion made his was to the battleground. The man who walk down reached Harvest's nose in height. Like him, he sported narrow eyes except of cool dark brown. Lon'qu's hair was a ragged nest of black. His arm guards and boots were black and lined with white fur. His ensemble consisted of white trousers and a navy blue coat tied to his mid-section with a red sash. The coat had loose tails reaching to his mid shins. Only his shoulders were armored with a single pair of single rectangular black lacquered plates. One heft his weapon, a nodachi, just like Karla's.

Lon'qu's very presence spoke of experience, a calm nearly aloof demeanor, and a casual companionship with death.

Robin could see their Ashigaru tense up as his name was called, as the eyes of the elite of the entire country paid him their attention, and has his executioner paced down. Step by step of his sandals seem to toll a death knell. She wanted to hold out more hope for him, but she knew the odds stood against him.

Whatever boiled away in her, there was definite worry. Half of her accepted this was what had to be: Harvest was a Shepherd and needed to do his duty. The other half called the former a coward for not thinking a way around this, and just accepting it. It was all out of her hands with the words of the announcer.

She hated that feeling.

-Arena, Hippodrome, Regna Ferox-

"Are both combatants ready?" He prompted. Lon'qu nodded, never letting his eyes wave from his opponent.

Harvest, on the other hand, had to resign himself. "Let's do this." He gave in an unusually low tone. He relaxed and let the rifle in his hands hang by limp limbs.

"Begin!"

Lon'qu immediately rushed forward to close the distance as a blue and white blur.

Harvest leveled his rifle at the man rushing forward.

He was sick of this. Sick of Regna Ferox, the people in it, and his opponents stupid face .

When his name was called, he had wondered what it all meant. What his life would amount to.

Then he decided, they didn't deserve this. He wasn't going to let then have the satisfaction of telling him when and how to die! If his ancestors called him to join, it was going to be on his terms.

'Fuck Regna Ferox! Fuck the rules! Fuck every bastard cheering,' The leaf lined up with the trench of his sight, dead center of the Solitary Blade's center. Lon'qu's eyes widen, but he stayed the course. Harvest took a split moment to feel bad for the guy who didn't know how guns worked, before signing his to the grave.

*Click*

No bullet came out.

'…Are you serious…?'

…

Why isn't Lon'qu dead?

Lon'qu was run at him like run away freight train.

'Herehecomesherehecomesherehecomes! Plan B, Babe Ruth!' Harvest slid his hands down the barrel and gripped it like a baseball bat.

"手榴弹(shǒuliúdàn)!" He cried out as swung the gun end or end at the Chon'sin mercenary. He probably didn't know what he yelled, but the way Harvest announced his attack made the swordsman pause. He actually dove to the side, giving the spinning gun a wide margin as it passed.

Lon'qu did not know how guns worked, but Harvest gave him more than enough reason to avoid, what to him was by all rights, magic. He had seen that staff shatter a tile in front of Adon. The loud bang it announced with told of something he shouldn't make contact with.

The rifle simple slide harmlessly a few meters behind the Basilio's chosen…

Silence possessed the crowd, gripped on the edge their seats, waiting for the staff to become spectacle.

Nothing happened…

For twenty seconds… then laughter burst from one, then two, four, and kept doubling up until almost the entire crowd was roaring with it. They were making comments, but Harvest paid them no mind. He didn't want their opinions. He just needed time to slide his Yari spear off his back. Without that distraction, Lon'qu would've been upon him before he deployed his weapon.

Just in time to meet Lon'qu's renewed assault.

The Chon'sin swordsman came swinging from the side. The Ashigaru clocked his spear in front of him to knock it away. His stance was stationary, save a few adjusting steps. He was going to stand his ground and met every blow with every block. Lon'qu was a fury of swipes and stabs. Harvest deflected each and every one. Every attack diverted and every assault forward halted. At first glance the two seemed evenly matched, but to the experienced eyes of veterans like Frederick, they knew the real current of the duel.

'Harvest isn't attacking.' Lon'qu's blows we're being sought off because that was the ONLY thing the Ashigaru was doing. Their Hawaiian member was focusing all his energy into keeping that Chon'sin blade from ending him, save for a few token stabs to keep their distance. Harvest kept their stalemate sure, but without the strength to call them attacks, they were more like threats of retaliations. Still the scrapes were coming. Thin red lines began to erupt on his flesh.

For five straight minutes, Lon'qu and Harvest kept this seemingly stalemate. Both were huffing for more air. Only Harvest's was genuine. He had stuck to his course and kept to his purely defensive tactic. Lon'qu was trying to feint and bait his spear wielding opponent into opening himself up. The West Champion was still fresh and only mimicked fatigue to bait his opponent. In the last few exchanges, Lon'qu even pretended to spin his vulnerable back into view with some exaggerated over swings.

Harvest was having none of it, prioritizing his safety over actually retaliating that would cost him the match at best, his life at worst.

The advantages the Ashigaru's side was the length of his weapon and his size. With his initial charge exhausted by the rifle, Lon'qu could no longer close in without the spear head fending him off. Harvest swung strikes away and kept the point between the two, angling up at his face or jittering it at anywhere on his torso. Lon'qu's blade wasn't quite long enough to reach anything vital. Even the few that did scraped him, some bounced off his armor. Others didn't.

Still he was on borrowed time. He didn't know if the blood oozing from his scrapes would be debilitating.

Lon'qu was getting sloppy, but he didn't believe it for a second. There was no way a Champion of an entire country of fighters gets tired after five minutes straight of constant exertion. He was hoping a sure fire way to win this would rear it's head, but it was becoming evident, Lon'qu had energy to spare, while Harvest would be running on fumes in another five minutes if this would continue. That is to say no less of his deteriorating performance before then. The next exchange may be an all or nothing gamble.

His Fabian tactics of never engaging unless he could win was keeping him alive, but it wasn't to get the win. Almost sensing his beleaguerment, Lon'qu was upon him once again, with far more ferocity. His blows now held more power than before, ringing the joints of this arms as it came at him. He was being beaten into a corner. Lon'qu was working his way past his defense with sheer might, and now Harvest was on the ropes. Once Basilio's Champion bypassed his spear, he would be cut down. His own katana could be used, but he'd have to draw it first. Lon'qu was simply too fast and experienced to give him that window of opportunity.

He'd have to use one last trick up his sleeve.

Lon'qu finally cleared his spear as a threat. His Kodachi came down to cleave Harvest in half. Harvest's weakened grip on his spear shaft keep the blade off, but his leeched strength was failing him. Lon'qu pressed on angling the blade to enter his neck as the pressure mounted.

In the stands Robin held her palm to her mouth. Her eyes widened.

Just a few more inches, and Harvest's neck would be opened. Harvest invested his remaining strength into vice grip to stave off death. It held off Lon'qu's gripped fist as his open palm blossomed before him.

"CALL RIFLE!" He yelled as green enveloped the Chon'sin's sight. Lon'qu had not relented. He was wise to Harvest's parlor tricks now, He…

…got the back of his skull cracked by a ballistic rifle grip…

Lights exploded in Lon'qu's vision blinding him to the next blow. Harvest had taken his floating rifle and broke it over the Chon'sin's kneecap. Unfortunately the gun didn't break, so the joint did instead.

Not exactly keen on taking chances, He then dropped his gun and held Lonqu's head between his hands. Lon'qu's face, mostly his eye, kissed Harvest's knee. The force of the blow sent him reeling. As testament to his constitution, Lon'qu was still on his knees and elbows, trying to get back up. Harvest sat his knee on his lower back to pin him, drew his katana and slid the blade…

"VICTROY! To Harvest! The Silver Stars on Bloddy Skies!" Yelled the forgotten man clad in caribou. "Bout to Flavia and the East!"

The crowd didn't quite share the sentiment.

"Dear gods…"

"…Lon'qu defeated?"

"… Shepherds … Chon'sin…"

Clapping broke out even more thunderous and enveloping then the previous two rounds. His name and given title was being chanted over and over, but he took no joy in it. He'd seem just what they cheer for. Harvest wasn't a monkey in a zoo. He had more pressing things, primely a weapon to collect.

A Feroxian Cleric stopped momentarily stopped him to top him of with her healing staff, before her others arrived.

As he passed, women wearing white, rushed to collect the unconscious Chon'sin. He paused in his stride. He was ignoring the wellbeing of the man he laid down. He was stooping to their level. That… shouldn't be happen. 'It shouldn't.' Regna Ferox was truly unhealthy for him. "Call rifle." He recite. The long-arm on the floor flew into his glowy green hand. Once it was settled back into its home on his back, Harvest walked up to the clerics and offered them a helping hand. After providing a little elbow grease, to load his opponent on to the stretcher, they ferried him off to the infirmary with the others who lost.

With the match behind him, Harvest inspected his weapon.

There was the issue. He had lit his gun during Sully's fight…

… and forgot to put it out till his, so the match had burnt all the while. Now it was too short to actually feed into the chamber. The Ashigaru bite the finger of his glove and pulled it off. He licked his finger tips and pinched the flame gone.

-East Kahn's box, Hippodrome, Regna Ferox-

Harvest's win came as a welcome surprise and relief to their troupe the box, more so the later. Harvest's walk of victory was far more subdue than the other champions. The crowd could celebrate and cheer their lungs out, he just wanted to melt into his chair. He had won, but Lon'qu had beaten the shit out of him for it. Chrom nodded with approval, as he walked in. Robin gave him a once over for serious injuries, before patting him on the back for bringing things back around. It felt better than his pain receptors were tell him. 'Aaaaaaaaaooooowwwww…'

Flavia was… he was slightly unnerved just how beaming she was. Sure, she maintained the poise and posture of a leader for the crowd, but her eyes gave off the impression she would jump for joy at first opportunity, or worst his bones…

The caribou-clad announcer called all eyes on him. "Victory to the East Kahn has earned the honor of selecting their Champion first."

There was no debate who would fight the last round, so Flavia proclaimed. "Frederick, the Azure Chevalier shall take next round."

"Fighting words." Laughed the West Kahn. "Samson Coborlwitz, the Iron Fisher will answer."

"RAAAAAAEAEGHGH!" Immediately followed. It belonged to the man hidden beneath slabs of blue metal, with only his wide eyes visible. The hulking, heaps of iron had fin like shapes, and true to his title, an angler fish helm with the looping metal lure on top like and antenna. Strange another sea motif, much like-

"Go Samson! Crush them!" Cheered Adon's annoying voice from the West's half of the box. It seemed he was loudly explaining to someone else. "Samson is the second strongest man in my whole unit, he can withstand the charge of a knight and wrestle a bear to the ground!"

"I see?" Responded an effeminate voice next to his. It sounded familiar, and he was sure it wasn't Karla…

"Victory to the Super Strong Heavy Annihilation Assault Blue Whale Knights! Samson! Samson! SAMSON!" His shrilling noise chanted on. Unfortunately, it's rather difficult to think further on it, with the Super Bowl fan chanting.

"YES, Brother!" Responded Samson hefting a spiked ball on a chain. His other hand hefted an iron round shield with a spike protruding out the center called a targe.

His opponent had made his way practically unnoticed to the two loud yelling champions. Frederick stood stoic like a terra-cotta warrior; Harvest couldn't even see him breathe.

"Are the Champions ready?" Proclaimed the man with the caribou hat. Samson Coborlwitz huffed from his angler helm and dipped his whole upper half for a moment. Frederick's was a slight nod. "BEGIN!" Man had the eyes of a hawk.

-Arena, Hippodrome, Regna Ferox-

"AROOOoOoO." Billowed out Samson has he swung his wrecking ball over his head and ran at Chrom's guardian. Frederick matched his plan, full steam ahead. Once Frederick was within the swing of his opponent's flail, Samson planted his massive frame on the spot, and focused on attacking, seeping all before him. Frederick sidestepped the first arc, before it came back around. This time he stuck his spear past the iron head and in the way of its chain. With it's momentum, the head of the spear was quickly enveloped with the length of iron links.

Samson roared once more, as the tucked in his spiked shield, and made a mad charge into the seemingly disarmed Ylissean. Frederick simply gripped Samson's stationary flail head, and waited. As soon as Samson was up against Frederick's arm length, the Azure Knight let the spike bounce harmlessly against his steel armor, twisting his waist to absorb the energy of the blow. It also gave him wind up for his next move.

*CLANG*

Frederick collided his opponent's weapon against his own helmet. The blow threw the Blue Whale knight off balanced, but he was toppled with a successive strike to the other side. Samson stumbled for a bit, before falling forward in heavy heap. His helmet echoed groans.

Frederick naturally sat his full weight to his knee on the Valmese knight's back. He reached to his shin and produced a stiletto. He gripped the underside of Samson's helm and carefully aimed the thin shiv-

"VICTORY TO THE EAST!" Interrupted the announcer. "Frederick has bested Samson!" And with that Frederick let go of his downed opponent. Cheers and ovations showered him on his walk back up, not affecting him one bit. As he made his way back up, Adon rocketed past him crying his brother's name.

"Samson! SAMSON!" He let out in desperation. Much to his relief, his younger brother was sitting up nursing his head, or rather helmet.

"Brother?" Prompted the Iron Angler. "Did I trip?"

He was enveloped with a hug "Yes you did! Absolute Klutz!" It was surprisingly brotherly jab.

"Oh… Did I win?"

"No, we are tied for the tournament."

"Oh…" once again rang out of the helmet filled with disappointment. "I'm sorry brother…"

"Sorry? PLEASE! The Coborlwitz family always wins! Why? Because you manage to survive and now you get the chance to try again! Isn't that right? How else do our secret techniques get passed down?"

It took a moment for Samson to process his brother's statement. "OH! You're right brother! I can win after the contest too!"

"Of course, I am! That is the secret survival techniques passed down the Coborlwitz family for five hundred years!" Delightfully confirmed Adon. Harvest was watched the rather odd exchange between the two. It almost reminded him of Pinky and the Brain if Brain wasn't smart by any metric. It was… almost sweet.

The light in the Hippodrome dimmed. He had no clue how they did accomplished that, but the… spotlights? magic? pyres?... was being focused on the announcer. All paid attention to him.

"This is a true blessing this day, people of Regna Ferox! A close contest is sign of prosperous times before us! And now, the final contest! In respect to the standing Gur, Basilio shall announce his last Champion!"

"The West calls Marth, the Enigmatic Sword, to defend its right!" Basilio announced.

"The East calls Chrom, the Exalted Prince, to take it's right!" Responded Flavia in kind.

-Spectator seats, Hippodrome, Regna Ferox-

Lissa was bouncing up and down the stone seat. While the champions had to be in the Kahn's box, the rest of the Shepherds had to sit with the crowd. Still Flavia's favor got them front row seats, though there was no doubt, it was impossible to pick them out of the sea of faces.

"Oh my gosh! Brother's fight is here! And he's fighting Marth!"

Stahl asked. "Say, Lissa, who's Marth?" He could see the lithe swordsman making his way down at a slight quicker pace, than their Captain.

Virion interrupted. "Why, Marth, the dashing rogue helped Chrom and his party alongside yours truly against a Risen ambush! Even going so far to protect the young Lissa from a fiend. An inspiring action, only the likes of the Archiest archer can match!"

"Really?"

"So accredits Chrom, yes."

"Woah! He as good as the captain? Because, we still need this win for the alliance."

"That I can't tell you my friend, I only heard of Marth's skill second hand. And we are about to witness his swordplay before us."

"MARTH! Yoo-hoo! It's me, Lissa!" Tried The bouncy princess. Marth was busily occupied with Adon's pie hole instead. Virion gave a gentlemanly giggle, evidently Marth's actions had made a lasting impression. The Ylissean Shepherds cheered their leader with upmost gusto, except Miriel, who as strangely absent. The Feroxians around them yelled their support, at the Champions, and each other. A few fists went flying, but was drowned out with the superbowl of of excitment.

Sumia, only sat worried for her captain.

-East Kahn's box, Hippodrome, Regna Ferox-

"Is that Marth!?" cried Harvest. Robin nodded, as confused as he was. Frederick also cast a lifted brow.

"It would seem so." Commented the knight. The trio saw their prince face off to the masked swordsman. From such a distance they almost looked like mirrored copies. It was uncanny just how similar they were. Blue hair, blue-ish clothes, swords of the same length, all made them like clones. They even sported the same general demeanor.

"Are both combatants ready?" interrupted the announcer.

-Arena, Hippodrome, Regna Ferox-

Both Chrom and Marth drew and bare their respective blades. Though respective was relative, as both looked exactly like the other.

Chrom took notice and couldn't help but mutter "Where did you get that?"

-East Kahn's box, Hippodrome, Regna Ferox-

"IMPOSSIBLE!" yelled Frederick, right next to Harvest's ear.

Stunned, Harvest stuttered out "W-w-Wha? Frederick, what's impossible?" Robin also took interest on what had prompted the knight to burst out.

"Marth's blade! It looks exactly like Falchion!" he exclaimed.

Harvest took a look at Chrom's weapon. It was a double-edged longsword of gold with silver edges. The blade widened towards the guard and narrowed again down to the red handle and gold pommel. A teardrop shape hole was at the base of the blade. Marth's sword… looked exactly alike!

"So? It's just a sword, isn't it? Maybe it just looks like Chrom's?" theorized Harvest. At this Frederick shook his head.

"Harvest, I have served alongside that very blade for over a decade, Falchion is no mere sword." The Ylissean knight turned to his lord's opponent. "And that is no mere copy."

-Arena, Hippodrome, Regna Ferox-

Marth, it seemed, didn't feel like answering.

"Very well, let our arms speak for us!" announced Chrom.

"BEGIN!" yelled the Feroxian.

Chrom rushed forward and used his momentum to leap into the air. Falchion was brought, end over end, downward and slammed into its twin. Marth withstood the attack and began swinging into Chrom's quick block. Chrom and Marth exchanged blow and blocks in turns. One swung, and had to immediately block the counter attack. For five straight minutes it seemed the two where neck and neck. Chrom and Marth had both tried to change up their attack patterns to throw the other off. Chrom had tried to move with the masked swordsman's momentum and ride the blow into his guard. Marth, just ducked beneath and once more they fell into another furious exchange of metal.

Marth tried create some distance with fencing stabs, but Chrom responded with a similar act. Once again it devolved back to taking turns at each other.

The crowd had subsided with their cheers, and everyone held a baited breathe at the clear show of skill between the fighting champions.

Chrom tried to take advantage of his physique and simply tried to batter Marth's blade has hard as he could. The masked enigma took advantage of Chrom's simple swings and cleared the blade aside. Marth's blade shot forward, but Chrom sidestepped and tried to get a hold on Marth's thinner frame. However, Marth was limber enough to kick off his shoulder and launch into the air above.

Chrom had to stave off Marth's hammering strike. It was a carbon copy of Chrom's opening move.

Marth's move pushed Chrom back a few meters. Still Marth stumbled on the landing and only was ready as Chrom was about to meet him again. Chrom tuck his arm in, before twisting, Falchion flew in a single hail Mary thrust. At the same time, Marth had copied the action perfectly. The two blows collided like jousting knights, and the metal of both ground as the two past each other.

-East Kahn's box, Hippodrome, Regna Ferox-

"…Holy hell…" went Harvest.

Robin cooccurred "It's as if Chrom was fighting his own shadow..."

-Arena, Hippodrome, Regna Ferox-

The two combatants fell into a lull. Chrom was smoothly letting air in and out. Marth, however was lifting and dropping his shoulders with ever breathe.

"You fight well Marth." Commented Chrom "Who taught you?"

"MY FATHER!" exclaimed Marth, as he once more charged. Chrom however had learned from their melee. While his opponent was agile, he lacked the stamina of the princeling. Once more they met, but Chrom was to end it. With a single blow, he blew aside the other Falchion. Only with quick reflexive block , was Marth spared the worst of finished move. He was sent sprawling to the ground.

In defeat, Marth said. "I *inhale*…yield." before passing out. Chrom had wanted to ask questions, he knew better than to wake him. The lad deserved it, for how well he fought.

The fanfare was all encompassing. Initial cheers of Chrom's name rang out so loud, Harvest was sure, the dead was joining in.

"CHROM! CHROM! CHROM! CHROM! CHROM! CHROM! CHROM! CHROM!" Thundered the dome.

From the Kahn's box, Flavia tapped Frederick's pauldron, and prompted the knight down the stairs. As he made his way, his name became chant.

"FREDE-RICK! FREDE-RICK! FREDE-RICK! FREDE-RICK! FREDE-RICK! FREDE-RICK! FREDE-RICK! FREDE-RICK!"

Once, he made the whole trip, he stood at attention next to his charge.

Flavia barely motioned, as Harvest followed in suit.

"HAR-VEST! HAR-VEST! HAR-VEST! HAR-VEST! HAR-VEST! HAR-VEST! HAR-VEST! HAR-VEST!"

For whatever reason, his name rang the loudest yet. The Hawaiian local kept up appearances of stoicism and regality , but inside he was twisting with unsure tides. No coherent thoughts, just an torrent just underneath his cool exterior. He didn't know how to feel about this. He had survived and should be happy for it.

He wasn't. He was worried, as a cold realization slide to the back of his head.

This was life now. His life.

Fighting for it.

He only passively tuned in to Regna Ferox's final spectacle. The coronation of Flavia, Regna Ferox's newest Gur Kahn. Flavia stood in middle of the Kahn's box. The curtain had been pulled to conceal the West Khan's side. All eyes were on her.

"Flavia, the red lioness, the East Kahn, and now Gur Kahn." Announced the caribou clad official. "Before Lady Naga, before the spirits, before every kahn preceding you, and before the hordes, you swore an oath to see Regna Ferox to renewed heights. You are Gur Kahn, our universal ruler! Know such title grants great power, as heavy burden! Remember this day, as you will live your last, and judge the ones who inherit the day after. For all eyes of the heavens and earth see you, rule well!"

Flavia drew her sword from her hip, and roared to the people. The Ferxoians didn't clap. They joined in the roaring as an animalistic symphony. It wasn't at all coherent, but damn if it wasn't impactful. His eardrums were all too sure.

It was a truly Feroxian ceremony. To the point and followed with celebration.

Flavia slide her weapon back, and waved everyone away. The day of the tournament was over. As if commanded, most of the crowd filed out, leaving wooden spits, dried tankards, and the occasion undergarment. Only the Shepherds in the crowd were left. The walls of the Hippodrome still carried on with drunken revelry and celebration.

Flavia made her way to her three victors on the arena grounds. Forget happy, she was practically skipping as much as an armor clad warlord can do. She regarded Chrom.

"Well fought, Prince Chrom! You lead true men at arms! You have earned my respect and more to the point, our alliance. Tomorrow we will hash out the details, and the day after we celebrate with a banquet, with you all as our guests of honor."

"Thank you, Flavia." She took way too much enjoyment of hearing those words. "We would be honored." Was it just Harvest, or was Chrom drooling a bit.

Frederick leaned over and whispered. "Milord enjoys Feroxian fare and ales."

'Ah, a taste of local custom…' thought The Ashigaru.

"You've all had proven yourselves worth of Feroxian merit." Concluded Flavia. "Chrom come to my office tomorrow morn, and we'll talk. Till then rest and relish victory, and remember the feast the day after." The new leader of the country took her leave, positively beaming. The other Shepherds made their own way to the three victors.

"That was spectacular! Congrats you guys!" Exclaimed Lissa "Emms gonna be so relieved, when she hears!"

"Ç'est Magnifique!" Complimented Virion. "A fantastic showing gentlemen!"

Kellam smiled at the trio. Only Harvest noticed as he tipped his hat back. Kellam's smile shone just a bit more.

"So captain, what do we do now?" Asked Stahl.

Chrom answered,"As far as our mission goes, all is done. Until the banquet, all the Shepherds have time off. Just don't get into any trouble." His order manifest a chorus of whooping and yips. As their troupe went their own directions, Chrom said. "Robin, Harvest? Can I have your time?"

The two didn't protest, and flanked Chrom as they made their way out of the Hippodrome.

"First things first, Robin, whats your opinion of the tournament? And of our situation?" Asked Chrom.

"Ylisse is better off with an ally to depend on, but I suppose the details of our alliance will dictate by what degree." Opinionated Robin. "As for the tournament, … you and Frederick are capable fighters as it stands. Sully was at a disadvantage to Adon because of his size and reach, not to mention he played on her emotions to control her. Being on horseback litigates the former, not the latter. Vaike's issue was he got cocky and let Karla take the initiative. Harvest needs drilling and training, were it not for his trick, he would have surely fell." Robin blinked, realizing something.

The snownette exhaled "SorryHarvest! Ishouldn'ttalkaboutyouasif-"

"Robin! Its fine! Its fine!" Interrupted Harvest. "What you say doesn't offend me. In fact I need you to tell me what I need to improve. I'm no warrior." 'And I need to be one here.'

Chrom suggested. "Perhaps we could be sparing partners? If we are to entrust our lives to one another, we should train together."

"That's not a bad idea." accepted Harvest 'Has got to better than Fredericks Sky-terror wyvern at the very least.'

"Anyway. I called you two with me to discuss tomorrow. Flavia, now masters the whole of Regna Ferox. While she has us to thank for that, the Lioness will try and rob us like a bandit during the talks."

Robin asked "She'd really go so far?"

Chrom sighed. "Perhaps not, but East Kahns before her are wide renowned for their guile. Did you hear the name of the first Kahn?"

"Ragna the fox?" Remembered the Ashigaru.

Chrom nodded. "He got that moniker for his preference for their hides, and his wily ways. Flavia, if she is anything like her forerunners, will stop at nothing to improve her territory. We need to come prepared. Hence why I need you both to look over Emmeryn's notes with me."

"Why?" prompted Harvest. "Well, I mean why us? Shouldn't Frederick or someone more familiar with Ylisse be more suited to this sort of business? Or that Maribelle girl?"

The Prince explained "Maribelle would be a boon here, but other business made her unavailable. Frederick doesn't much care for politics, aside from arms. Unfortunately, we're rather short handed on anyone familiar with such talks. Everyone qualified is no longer … able, or willing."

"Chrom, you can count on me." Said Robin.

"Ok, but that doesn't answer why me?" Continued Harvest.

"You have the aura of a learned man, Harvest. Are you educated?"

"Well…" he hesitated to answer truly truthfully. He was going to college, but his expertise was in biology, not political science or macroeconomics. Granted he had a comprehensive general requirements of other classes, as well has what he dubbed Meandering Google Syndrome. He was in fact familiar with everything to do with warfare, from the Bronze age to Post Cold War, albeit it was only book learned. It was fancy and product of his obsession with understanding conflict and resources. Perhaps he did play too much Total War, and Warhammer 40k. "I've had a formal education."

"You're a Chon'sin noble Harvest, or at least Flavia thinks you are. I was thinking perhaps you could orate our points in favorable light. Any other would just be another Ylissian furthering our own agenda." Reasoned Chrom.

Harvest couldn't really say no to his employer's reasoning and just fell into line. "Alright, ready, willing, and able."

-Night, Chrom's room ,Fort Ferox-

Night had fallen as they made their way back to their guest rooms. Dinner was brought to them by the serfs. Tonights fare was a bit more substantial than usual, whole steaks, carved toothpick thin and roasted turnips and beets. Ale was offered, but none of the trio partook.

Chrom opened the paper packet Harvest recognized as the one he slapped the border guard with. The prince's finger snapped the red wax seal in half, spreading a shower of glimmer and glitter into the air before fading away. Chrom's rear drop tattoo, had briefly glowed. Harvest wasn't sure if he saw it had actually happened.

Like, a MCAT study group the three took turns over the material.

The military alliance was the obvious core of the agreement, and was a given seeing as it was within the interest of both parties.

Simply put, Emmeryn had offered the Chrom the following, as possible parts of the arrangement with the Feroxians.

One, Repealing her father's edict banning the sale of raw, unground or milled, grain to Regna ferox.

Two, Ylisse will feed each solider of Regna Ferox, a kilo of bread a day, as well as as much vegetables as they could eat.

Three, the resumption of the sale of non-grain produce to Regna Ferox.

Four, to repeal her father's tariff on the Feroxian imports on manufactured goods, like clothes, tools, and beverages.

Five, allow Feroxians to take all the spoils of the defeated Plegian forces.

Emmeryn's needed them to procure the following.

One, overall command of all armed forces were to be under Ylisse's Tactician.

Two, the removal on the Feroxian export tariffs on iron, stone, and Sternwood.

Three, Regna Ferox would allow Ylisse to hire their talented crafts and tradesmen.

Four, Regna Ferox will need to patrol, Ylisse's Eastern coast, in anti-piracy action.

Though calling them demands, was a little extreme, they were termed "mutually beneficial arrangements in the interest of both".

Emmeryn's writing was far more eloquently put. Such as her second offering went as, So swear, do the we of Ylisse, to feed each Feroxian, who takes up his steel, his daily kilo of bread and the take freely from our gardens his ...

'Thank goodness, I can read posh.' Commented Harvest. It seemed Emmeryn was well versed in the art of "do what I say, would you kindly.'

"This seems like a fair deal." Said Robin.

"Fair doesn't exist in politics." Said Harvest. "Especially with money involved."

"Flavia's going to love our offerings, but she might fight tooth and nail for each demand." Chrom laid the foundation. "Likely she'll fight us on demands, one, three and four. Most iron and stone comes from West Ferox, but as Gur Kahn, she's likely wants us to buy her raw materials."

"Much this has to do with food." Noticed Robin.

Harvest remembered something. "Didn't Maribelle mention something about Regna Ferox needing Ylisse's crops to subsist?"

"That's right." Confirmed Chrom. "Regna Ferox only has a little fertile soil, called the Green Quarter. Believe it or not, we passed though a small corner of it on the way here. Regna Ferox usually buys their produce from Ylisse. In exchange, we buy their iron, stone, and crafts. Most of our weapons and armor or the material to make them originate from Regna Ferox, Basilio's holdings primarily ."

"Take in mind, we also need them to be effective in battles." Said Robin. "Although having our allies starve would counterproductive."

"An army marches on it's stomach, Napoleon Bonaparte." Quoted Harvest.

Robin was oddly intrigued of the wisdom of those words.

"So, are we are planning of giving them offerings one and three?" Threw out the Ashigaru. "Wait. Why does one specify unprocessed grain?"

Chrom began to explain. "Regna Ferox is widely regarded for their talent in brewing. Fire-Belly Whisky, Roza's Triple X Brew, Winter Tanglo Feroxa, are among many brews that command quite the coin. Ylisseans would sell Feroxians their grain for food. What excess was turned to spirits and sold back to Ylisse for profit. The previous Exalt banned the sale on raw grain, to keep as much food home to feed his armies. Our Feroxian allies wouldn't starve, since they could receive bread but the Kahns didn't take well to their income being stymied. This matters to Flavia, as the East offers their own resources such as wood, furs, and game, but their biggest source of income is trade and traffic."

"So we're planning on giving her the trade concessions, what about offerings two and five seem… a bit much." Opinionated Harvest. "Does Ylisse really have the food to support them?"

"We do, nonetheless it's a rather heavy burden for our flock. Really, I'm hoping we wouldn't need to. Robin your opinion?"

Robin took a moment. "I agree, even if we could logistically support both armies. It'll be a heavy burden that might destabilize logistics. Chrom, what forces can Ylisse muster right now?"

"Not much I'm afraid. Sister's Pegasus Knights number five hundred strong, but their spread thin patrolling our borders. Emmeryn has at least thirty with her at all times, and seventy more in reserve in Ylisstol. As for an "army", Ylisstol can draft ten thousand men-at-arms. Arming and training them however is a wholly different beast. We once had veterans of the previous war, but many refuse to serve again. Truly, we can assemble a few hundred knights and perhaps one or two thousand reasonably trained soldiers."

"Plegia's capablities?" She requested.

"I don't know for sure, but the Shepherds have been dealing with Plegian sponsored raiding parties of dozens to even a hundred once. Plegia has no lack of fighting men, if they can stage such large raiding campaigns in Ylisse and Regna Ferox. Plegia's dragon rider orders double the number of our pegasus riders at least. And their veterans are likely climbing over each other to attack Ylisse."

Robin thought deeply on Chrom's assessment. "In other words, Ylisse direly needs these troops. At the same time, we'll need that food and money to build a future Ylissean force." Robin turned from their conversation and paced back and forth. She muttered to herself. "…Then the initial campaign will be defensive. If Ylisse is to stand, we'll need all the resources ourselves to build an army from scratch…"

"Would Ferox be unable to field if they don't have that support?" Harvest asked Chrom.

He shook his head. "Feroxians are well versed in life on campaign. Really, their only weakness is their lack of sustenance. They could subsist on what they buy from us."

"…Ylisse will need to pull its own weight. Ferox will provide the numbers and buy us time to start our own mustering…" Robin continued on before, snapped back to her fellows. "Chrom! How does Regna Ferox plan to execute the war?"

'If my hours in lessons haven't failed me… Basilio's lot are renowned for seafaring, and raiding. A sea campaign is't likely, his fleet is small and needed to see off Plegian, Valmnese, AND pirate raids. The bulk of West Feroxian's force is infantry. They're mostly loosely commanded war-bands of barbarians and drafted militia hillmen. West Ferox and the northern Plegia have always took from each other ad nauseam. Likely his hordes might open raiding campaigns into north Plegia. Otherwise, he'll just join Flavia in marching across Ylisse. Flavia has far less men than Basilio, but they are regimented. Likely she'll provide spearmen militias, bands of hunters, and a hand full of light cavalry. Though I hear, Flaivia's favored are the Hoursecarlz, and the Wyhlanders. The first is her elite bodyguard who wield two handed axes in full-plate, and the latter are huntsmen who live in the Green quarter."

"How soon can Flavia march them?"

"She was just placed in charge… perhaps a few weeks of message and muster… A month and a half for the full army, maybe a few weeks for a few thousand."

Robin went back to her pondering. It was a rather interesting site to Harvest, she was mouthing silent words, making motions with her hands. You'd think you could read her, but she was like a mime who sucked at charades.

"I got it." She concluded." We'll offer all but two and five. We can't go though with it if we plan on making a force of our own, we'll need that food ,as well has any spoils to cover our own costs, when we establish our own force."

"So we'll won't sponsor their rations, and expect them to buy it?" Harvest desired finality. "How are we going to expect them to let us take the lead then? Actually, why do we need to take overall command? And why does offering five matter?" He asked.

"It gives more autonomy to Ylisse." Simply put Chrom. "Flavia said, Regna Ferox only lends their steel to those worthy. If we don't take initiative of our own lands, how could we be entrusted with the lives of their soldiers. More-so, why no simply hand over all our holdings for them to steward. Flavia herself, doesn't doubt our mettle, but future generations will remember and might see it as weakness. Which is why we can not allow the Feroxians a share of the spoils. That would mean any Ylissean goods taken back will be domain of Regna Ferox." He explained further.

"Makes sense." Concluded Harvest.

"So in conclusion, we will be able to offer all but points two and five." Said Robin. The two men nodded.

"What of our demands then?" Prompted Harvest. "Demand one is needed, and two benefits both parties. What of three and four?"

"I don't think we need to worry over much on three." Chrom answered. "Plegia has a sizable navy, but most are occupied seeing off Valmese pirates. The most we'd need to worry for is a single raiding vessel at a time."

"Can Ylisse handle the issue?" Asked Robin.

"Yes and no. We can't stop the actually ship, Ylisse only has fishing boats and no ports. We do have militias and of course the Shepherds to defeat them on land."

"Then, while not necessary, we should at least bring it up to Flavia." Stated Robin. "That leaves demand three."

"Perhaps the hardest one." Chimed Chrom. "Robin, you'll need to convince her to trust Ylisse with the lives of her countrymen. Harvest, you and I will need to make our case. We'll just work with the stratagem of the council."

"What's their plan?" Asked Harvest.

"Its as how you said earlier Robin. Initially, Ylisse will hold the west. Failing that, Ylisstol itself, maybe our anvil. Regna Ferox will provide the hammer to see off any Plegian army."

Robin took a moment then said. "Then everything, but overall command is settled… It's sound to have both armies were on the same page of the campaign. If she does resist the idea, how will we convince her?"

"We could always trade Harvest." Joked Chrom. He found no amusement from his Shepherds. He coughed out "I think you'd have to convince her, that we know what we're doing. I had hope you could impress her."

Robin looked unsure, but nonetheless nodded. It seemed all too much to ask of a person with less than a week of memories, but something in her noggin told her she could do what Chrom asked.

Harvest had yawned loudly, before rubbing his eye a bit.

"Harvest is right. We should head to bed, it's late." Noted Chrom. "Good night you two. If there's anything more, we can talk after breakfast."

The three parted ways to rest for the night.

-Hallway, Fort Ferox-

Harvest walked at brisk pace. A few more doors and he could turn in for the moonlight. Just a stride and he could cosy in a warm burrito in the brisk air.

It just so happen though, he spotted an orange mass. It was Kellam?… leaving a room, holding a silver tray?

Using his inside voice, the Ashigaru prompted. "Hey, Kellam. What are you doing?"

The Ylisse knight motioned into the room. "This is Stahl's. He ate in his room today, and the serfs asked me to get his plates. I guess he forgot and fell asleep."

"They… asked you?" Questioned the Hawaiian grown.

Kellam squirmed a-bit. "Well… I overheard them. They didn't want to disturb him, and I thought, I should help them out."

"Oh, how thoughtful." Complimented Harvest. The knight of orange couldn't see, but Harvest adopted a wicked Grinchy grin underneath his mask. "Say, maybe we should… teach Stahl to clean up after himself."

Unsettled by the Ashigaru's sudden turn in tone, the unnoticeable man asked. "What do you mean?"

"Got a blanket, broom and a bucket of water?"

-Stahl's room, Fort Ferox-

The green equestrian was tucked up, all warm, and belly full of roast.

He was in bliss.

There was just a slight… tingling? Itching? Right on his chin.

He swatted away the sensation.

It just came back. He swiped even harder.

Once again it returned.

Stahl had enough, he slapped it with both hands and sat up.

Though his groggy sight was a white mass.

'Wha-what is that?"

Sudden a blaze made clear what it was!

It was a wight!

A pale person covered in etherial wisp! It floated well off the ground!

It held aloft a great burning torch!

"HRRRRIIIGGGGGHHHH" it hissed.

"Gh- gH GHOST!" He panicked. The Ylissean horsemen threw over his covers and scrambled for the moonlight doorway.

"RururoGHHh!" It groaned behind him! "Ruogogohahahhahaha!"

Stahl made tracks to the other side of the fortress.

"HA HA HA." The "wright" gave off. "What? He didn't say nightmarch- oh, right, he was asleep for the story. Ah well. So how was that?" He asked below him.

"That was" Kellam managed between chuckles. " kindaaa."

"Dastardly of us." Finished Harvest though a loop sided grin. He pulled their costume off. " There's a lesson in all this."

"Really? What?"

"No clue. Riot of a laugh though." Judged Harvest. He jumped off Kellam's shoulders and dipped his burning broom into the waiting bucket water. "Come on, we should get back to our rooms before anyone finds out."

The two Shepherds would share this moment for the rest of their lives. Perhaps they should do the same with Stahl.

Every. Single. Day.

AN: Thank you for taking the time to read this chapter. Remember to review! I live for feedback, because feed is part of the word.