Robin gave a shout of triumph, echoed instantly by the other Shepherds. Sheathing his sword, he ran to meet Chrom, the young prince standing unsteadily on exhausted legs. "I've got you," he said reassuringly, holding Chrom's shoulder to help him balance. His friend nodded appreciatively and began to slump, leaning on the smaller tactician.

"Damn good fightin', Chrom!" Vaike roared, clapping him on the back and sending the exhausted man to the floor with a grunt. Chuckling to himself, Vaike easily threw his commander over his shoulder and brought him back to Lissa, who immediately set to work healing the small cuts and bruises he'd received. Robin hurried after, eager to leave the arena that smelled nauseatingly of sweat and the metallic tang of blood. Thankfully, soldiers were already coming in to clear the battlefield, removing bodies and washing blood with a slightly disconcerting ease. Robin watched with interest as he cleaned the blood from his own sword before sheathing it.

Stahl, who had dismounted and placed the now-sleeping Chrom in his saddle, had only gotten a foot outside when a booming voice called for them to halt. Turning on his heel, Robin took note of a dark-skinned man who was massive even for Feroxi standards slowly but surely walking to meet him. Quickly gathering as much information as he could on this potential threat, Robin could see that the man seemed to be almost entirely made of muscle, and the scar over his right eye was hidden by a matte black eye patch. The man's armor was clearly for show; a golden collar around his neck sprouted pink plumage, and he wore the same golden armor on his gauntlets and shin-high boots. Underneath was a dark blue suit that covered everything but the man's massive chest.

Despite his utterly ridiculous attire, Robin could tell from the man's voice and gait that he was very used to being in control. He carried no visible weapons, but his size alone would make him a formidable opponent. He stopped in front of Robin, his single eye sizing up the slim tactician and making him immediately uncomfortable.

"You're this army's tactician, right?" he asked, maintaining his cold stare.

"I am," Robin answered, trying his best not to sound intimidated. "And who are you?"

"I'm Basilio, the West-Khan you so rudely removed from power!"

Robin's blood ran cold. A quick glance over his shoulder told him that the other Shepherds had stopped, and Vaike's hand was straying to his axe. The audience's cheers had stopped altogether, and many were leaning over the railing to see what would become of this.

A massive hand clamped down on his shoulder, bringing Robin back to Basilio's attention. The tactician tensed, sure he was about to die, but then a booming laugh echoed throughout the arena, and Basilio's hand clapped him on the back. "Don't look so scared, kid!" he cried with a massive grin. "You beat me fair and square, and I respect that. I just wanted to give your people a little gift; think of it as West Ferox's contribution to the impending fight with Plegia." Releasing Robin, Basilio called loudly over his shoulder, "Lon'qu! Get out here!"

A dark-haired man stepped out from the other side of the arena, walking calmly toward them. He was tall, almost the same height as Robin, and very lean. The man-Lon'qu, Robin corrected himself- wore a light blue tunic over cotton trousers. His right hand hovered over the hilt of a curved sword on his hip, and the way he narrowed his eyes at Robin gave him the guise of a wolf sizing up its prey. Basilio crossed over to the swordsman and clapped him on the back with a grin. Even though he was obviously used to this, the Khan's sheer strength made him stumble.

"Lon'qu, this is Robin. He's your boss from now on."

"Erm, excuse me?" Robin asked, stumbling over his words. "What exactly are you talking about?"

"Lon'qu is my contribution to your cause. He's a fine swordsman; every bit as good as Marth, in my mind," Basilio stated proudly.

"And Lon'qu? You have no objections to this?"

The tall man shrugged and replied in a gravelly voice, "He gives orders, I stab people. I find the system works well enough."

"Works for me," Robin grinned. "Never turn down a skilled ally."

Lissa bounced up to Lon'qu and gave him a cursory once-over. Clearly not seeing him as an immediate threat, the princess smiled. "My name's Lissa," she introduced herself. "That guy on the horse is my brother, Chrom. He's in charge here." She held out her hand for him to shake.

Lon'qu reeled back like he'd just seen a poisonous spider, his hands flying up to block his face as he took an involuntary step back. "Away, woman!" he cried, his deep tone breaking into almost a squeak.

"Hey, no need to be jerk!" Lissa retorted, beginning to pout.

Basilio burst into a fresh round of laughter. "Bah, don't worry about him. Let's just say ladies tend to put Lon'qu on edge!" Robin glanced back to Lon'qu, whose face was beet-red in embarrassment.

"Basilio! Trying to threaten my champions?" Flavia shouted as she rushed to meet them.

The West-Khan rolled his eye. "Oh for crying out loud, woman! I was congratulating them! Besides, I'm lending them my best man; I'm sure he'll prove more useful than the entirety of your troops combined!"

"Ha! Anyone you trained is mediocre at best."

"Flavia, from my understanding, you told your champions that the only way they'd get help was if you won. You know that I would've agreed wholeheartedly to fight Plegia!"

"Of course I do. But then, you were on the other side of the country. And for the love of Naga, don't put on such a holier-than-thou act! You would've done the same."

"…Now that you mention it, I probably would have. Bahaha!"

"Wait a minute," Stahl chimed in, "were we just used?"

"Pretty much," Flavia admitted. She grinned, "But it was for a good cause, and it all turned out okay, so I say we celebrate!" Some of the spectators whooped and Flavia rushed off.

"Pah, any excuse for a party and Flavia jumps on it," Basilio muttered. "But who cares? I'm always up for a good drinking contest!" He gave Robin a hearty slap on the back as he turned away. "Give Chrom my regards when he wakes up!"

"Hey, Robin?" Stahl asked.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"With your permission, we'd like to attend the party," the cavalier said with a sheepish smile. "I mean, it is because of our victory…"

"Of course, Stahl," Robin laughed. "Just tell everyone not to get too drunk; we may very well be leaving tomorrow."

"Will do!"

As the Shepherds began to leave, Robin tapped Lon'qu's shoulder. The swordsman reacted instantly, spinning on the ball of his foot and partially drawing his sword before he realized who it was. "Is there something you need?" he asked, clearing his throat and sheathing his weapon.

"If you weren't too keen on going to the celebration, I was going to ask if you'd be up to spar. Being the tactician, I need to know how everyone fights, and at this point you're a bit of a wildcard."

"I wouldn't be opposed to a match, but are you not tired from your battle?"

"Hardly," Robin smirked. "If you're ready, we can begin at any time."

"No time like the present," Lon'qu muttered, drawing his sword and settling into a stance Robin hadn't seen before. His feet were positioned perpendicular to his upper body, his arms close to his head and pointing the blade out beyond his face. Robin drew his own weapon and settled into his favorite defensive stance, one hand wielding his blade while the other hung loosely behind him.

"En garde."

Lon'qu acted first, his weapon carving vicious crescents in the air as he attacked with routine, crisp movements. Robin parried every strike, trying to look as unfocused as possible while he waited for his opponent to tire.

To his dismay, Lon'qu's strikes only seemed to get faster and more brutal the more he swung, the slim man using his momentum to build up power. Robin resisted the instinct to reach for his tome, instead watching the steady pattern Lon'qu was building up. Their blades clanged more and more often as Lon'qu's blade advanced ever closer to the tactician's face and chest.

Robin took a chance, thrusting his blade exactly where he knew Lon'qu's strike would land, catching his opponent's blade in his crossguard. Before the Feroxi could react, Robin flicked his wrist and sent the man's sword clattering away on the tile and placed his own on Lon'qu's chest.

"Do you yield?" he asked calmly, trying to hide his satisfaction.

"Yes, damn it," the swordsman replied taking Robin's outstretched hand and getting to his feet. "There are only three people I've fought who have been able to disarm me: Marth, Basilio, and you. Where did you learn your technique?" he asked, picking up his sword.

"Would you believe me if I said I don't know?" Robin asked with a smile.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I have amnesia. I can't remember anything to waking up in an open field with Chrom and Lissa standing over me."

"I see," Lon'qu said skeptically. He nodded to Robin's arms. "Why do you cover your hands? An archer's bracers will provide no defense against a blade."

"I have a slight… skin condition. Nothing to be worried about. What about you? Where were you trained?"

"Here in Ferox. Basilio taught me much of what I know, though his skill far surpasses my own."

"Basilio taught you to use a sword? Flavia said he knew nothing of them."

"That would be incorrect. Basilio uses an axe, true, but a disciplined warrior must know how to defend against a different weapon. He knows much about swords because they pose the greatest threat to him."

"Makes sense, I suppose. Are you ready for round two?"

"Always," Lon'qu smirked.

….

By the next evening, once Chrom had had time to rest and Vaike and Sully had had time to get over their hangovers, the Shepherds were ready to move again. They left the morning after, once Frederick had gathered ample supplies for the trip and Robin had planned their long course back to Ylisstol. The Feroxi soldiers were to follow them and specific platoons were to be placed at key defensive positions, where they could back up the Ylissean pegasus knights who patrolled the border between Ylisse and Plegia.

However, when the Shepherds had seen to the placement of slightly more than half the Feroxi troops, they received a message from the Exalt.

….

Robin woke in his tent earlier than usual when Chrom's angry shout burst from the tent next to his. Quickly wrapping his cloak around his shoulders and dusting himself off, he rushed outside to see Chrom fuming over an envelope he held in his hand.

"The bastard…" he muttered angrily, his iron grip crushing the letter.

"What's wrong?" Robin asked. Chrom's head snapped around to look at him, squinting through the early morning sunlight.

"Gangrel," he spat. "He's invaded Ylisse and burned a village in Themis. The Plegians murdered nearly everyone there, and captured the duke's daughter, Maribelle. Then they had the gods-damned nerve to say that she crossed their border and attacked their troops!"

"What?" Robin asked incredulously. "She's a healer, for crying out loud! What's she gonna do, hit them with her staff?!"

"Exactly! And there's nothing we can do about it unless we want an all-out war!" Chrom struck the ground in frustration. Breathing heavily, he spoke again. "Emm wants us to try and negotiate. But if she goes to meet Gangrel on her own, he'll cut her down without a second thought."

"So we go with her," Robin replied. "He'll be less likely to attack if she has armed guards around her."

"Or he'll claim that bringing armed troops into his country was an act of war, and pin the blame on us. We're stuck between a rock and a hard place."

Robin put a hand to his chin in thought, then slowly smiled. "Unless he doesn't know about the troops."

"What?"

"You'll go with Emmeryn and Lissa to try to negotiate. Gangrel can't say that the prince isn't allowed a say in this matter. However, if Gangrel's as mad and arrogant as you say, he won't have people patrolling once the negotiation starts. We can use that arrogance to hide a small group of the Shepherds. If all goes well, he'll leave and we'll wait till he's gone before we retreat. But if the negotiations go sour, we'll be ready to close in on them like a steel trap."

"Your plan depends on whether we can negotiate the correct spot for the parley."

"Got a better plan?"

"…I suppose not. Let's get everyone ready to move. I'll have Frederick send Emmeryn a message that we're coming."

….

Jesus, this took waaaaaayyy too long. I really meant for this to be out like 2 months ago, but I have practically no time to write anymore. But we're finally getting the ball rolling on this story!

I just want to thank all of you guys for reading this and especially the ones who followed or favorited this story. I hope to update soon, but I can't guarantee anything. That said, if you guys see something I could do better, PLEASE tell me. I really appreciate it. Anyway, thanks for reading!