Chrom collapsed onto his bed, gasping for breath.
He had been training as a warrior for years, under the knight that many claimed was a slave driver.
Now he was thinking that the rest of the Shepherds were right. Frederick was far too easy on him.
During the last two days, he learned what torture really was.
Robin's training began with a group run alongside Sumia. It wasn't too hard, seeing as he had to stop ever few paces to help her up, but what followed was a brutal regiment of strength and weapon exercises that left his muscles feeling like they were going to collapse in protest.
"Chrom?" He heard a knock on his door. "Are you alright?"
The prince forced himself into a sitting position, grimacing at the pain.
"Sumia? I'm fine." He replied.
The Pegasus knight pushed the door open, the concern on her face plainly showing.
"Are you sure? Did Robin push you too hard?"
"No. I'm a little sore, but I think I'll be ready for tomorrow." The prince smiled, but even that movement sent another ache through his body. "Did you need something?"
"Oh!" Sumia gasped, remembering why she came looking for the prince, holding out her hands. "I just baked you this pie."
"Oh." Chrom accepted the gift. "Thank you, Sumia. It smells great."
"Thank you." Sumia's blush intensified. "I-I better go."
"See you in the arena." Chrom smiled as Sumia left him be, stabbing into the pastry once more.
A quiet thud caught his attention.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine."
Flavia smiled cheerfully to herself as she made her way up the stairs.
The tournament was about to begin and this time, she was confidant the throne would be hers.
The Kahn's destination was the central viewing stage. Offering the best view of the arena, it was reserved for the Kahns and whomever else they allowed in.
"Ah, Flavia." A deep voice greeted as she stepped into the box. "I was almost afraid you weren't going to show."
"Basilio." Flavia greeted, grinning.
"Someone's looking hopeful today." The West Kahn chuckled. "Too bad my team's going to dash those hopes soon."
"We'll see about that." Flavia replied, taking her seat alongside her fellow Kahn at noticing that the duo were not alone.
"Oh, Olivia." Flavia greeted the shy dancer. "Didn't see you there."
"Hello, Kahn Flavia." She replied politely. "I hope you found a worthy Champion this year."
"Oh, I did." Flavia laughed. "He'll put anyone you throw at him to shame."
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" A voice boomed from below, magically augmented to reach the entire arena. "The Tournament is about to begin!"
A chorus of cheers followed from the massive crowd.
"Representing the West and our Reigning Kahn, The Masked Mercenary, Marth!"
The cheers grew even louder as Basilio's team entered from the left.
March himself was at the head, his face concealed by his butterfly mask and his sword hanging on his hip.
Basilio looked down at him with a confidant smile.
"Don't get so hopeful, oaf." Flavia's insult held no venom.
"Oh? Got a wildcard this year?" Basilio asked, taking a drink from a very large mug.
"and representing the East, returning to the arena after three years of absence, the Grandmaster himself, Robin!"
Basilio choked on his drink as his gaze flew to the right and, sure enough, Robin was leading his team into the arena, his white hair and purple cloak was unmistakeable.
"Well, that should make things more interesting, don't you think?" Flavia asked, folding his arms and shooting a satisfied look at her counterpart as he managed to clear his airway.
As the Kahns began bickering behind her, Olivia stared down at Robin as he gave orders to his team.
"So you are back." She whispered, smiling softly.
"So that's Marth?" Robin asked no one in particular as he looked over his competition, formulating his strategy.
"Recognize your associate, Grimleal?" Frederick asked with deliberate casualness.
"Just do your damn job, Knight." Robin shot back without emotion. "Alright, I have an idea."
"Orders?" Mitch asked, pulling his large shield and long lance from his back.
"Mitch covers me while I take out those knights. Chrom and Sumia take her Pegasus and deal with those mages. Lissa and the knight reinforce and heal either group as needed. Then we move on to Marth and that mercenary he has with him."
"I want to fight Marth." Chrom stated firmly. "There are I few things I need to ask him."
"Fine." Robin shrugged. "Just don't do anything stupid and yield if you have to."
The knight collapsed, his heavily armored body smoking. Robin slipped his tome back into his sleeve and survied the situation across the battlefield.
So far, his plan had been executed without a hitch.
The princess was in the process of healing Mitch of a stab wound through his shoulder with Frederick guarding them.
Chrom and Sumia once again proved a devastating combination, the prince leaping from the back of Sumia's Pegasus and knocking one of the mage duo out as Sumia dived towards the other, taking them both out of action.
Now it was just Marth and his teammate standing between them and victory.
The Plegian turned to where they stood, his eyes cold and calculating.
The mercenary stepped towards him, drawing a curved sword and giving it a flip, catching it as it fell and thrusting the tip towards Robin.
A traditional Feroxi Challenge.
"Very well, then." Robin replied, drawing his own blade in reply, the cold steel whistling through the air in response. "Let's do this."
The mercenary leaped forwards, bringing his blade down on Robin's, sparks flying and metal screeching as they clashed.
At the other side of the arena, Marth glanced to his companion, a slightly worried frown gracing his face.
"Marth!"
The masked man snapped to attention as Chrom leaped from Sumia's Pegasus to land before him.
"One question, before we begin?" Chrom called, bringing Falchion into an offensive stance.
Marth didn't respond, instead settling into his own stance.
"Very well." Chrom muttered. "Our swords will speak for us!"
Chrom leaped as high as he could, Falchion posed to strike. At the apex of his assentation, he began to spiral down towards his opponent, the centrifugal force to increase the power of his strike.
Marth parried the strike, gritting his teeth as he felt the impact in his arms.
Chrom continued to press as hard as he could, trying to force the mercenary down.
It was at that moment that Chrom noticed something odd about Marth's sword. The fine blade was very familiar indeed.
"Where did you get that?!" He demanded as Marth forced him away. "How do you have a Falchion?!"
The holy blade of House Ylisse was considered a national treasure as well as a holy relic. It was crime to create a counterfeit blade in it's likeness.
Marth didn't respond, instead following after the prince with a series of swift slashes, forcing Chrom to parry.
Chrom cursed to himself as he avoided another strike. He didn't care how strong Marth was, or how skillfully he wielded his blade.
Chrom wanted answers and by Naga, he was going to get them.
Robin had quickly found the flaws in his opponent's attacks.
His blows were strong, for certain, but there was almost a clumsiness behind them, as if the mercenary was holding back, despite failing to land a solid hit on the tactician.
Robin was going to make him pay for that insult.
"I know you can do better than that, mercenary." Robin grunted as he deflected another blow. "At least act like you want to hit me."
The mercenary was panting heavily, sweat glistened from atop his brow. Steeling himself, he leaped forwards again.
Robin could only shake his head. If his opponent wasn't going to take this seriously, he didn't belong in the area at all.
Robin side stepped the blow with ease, spinning around and delivering a harsh kick to the mercenary's back.
The tactician rolled his shoulders as the mercenary peeled himself from the hard, stone floor.
He took a good look at the younger man for the first time. He was young, barely out of his teens, if even that. Probably some kid that bit off more than he could chew.
But it was his hair that caught Robin's attention. Snowy white, like his mother's.
The tactician shook his head, dismissing the thought. It wasn't important.
"Look, there's no point in dragging this out." The Plegian stated, settling into his stance. "You need to come at me like you want to hurt me."
"I…" The mercenary huffed, "really…don't want to hurt you…"
Robin's vision narrowed. "Then you should have never stepped into the Arena."
Those words were the only warning the Mercenary had before Robin surged forwards, his blade coming around in wide arc.
A spark of panic sprang into the mercenary's eye as he brought his weapon up, parrying the strike. He didn't have any time to rest. Robin's attacks were swift and precise, the steel blade clacking against the mercenary's Killing Edge again and again until Robin smashed the hilt of his weapon into the Mercenary's hand.
With a cry of pain, the mercenary dropped his weapon.
Seizing the opportunity, Robin gave the mercenary a swift punch to the jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor.
When the mercenary was able to see clearly once more, Robin had his boot on his chest and his sword at his throat.
"Yield." Robin commanded, a firm, if disappointed look in his eye.
The mercenary immediately showed his palms in submission, breathing a sigh of relief as Robin stepped off him.
Robin didn't spare the defeated man a second glance, turning his attention to the far end of the arena.
Chrom had just knocked Marth's blade from his grasp and sent the mercenary sprawling to the floor. The masked man slowly raised his palms in defeat.
"Marth has surrendered!" The announcer boomed. "The winner of this year's tournament is Robin, representing East Kahn Flavia!"
The crowd erupted into cheers of success and loud chants.
Robin smirked to himself as he marched out of the arena.
Another excellent performance.
"And the prodigal son does it again." Flavia laughed as Robin led his team out.
"Just doing my job." Robin shrugged.
"Well, you do a good job of it." The now ruling Kahn turned her attention to the prince. "You fought better than I expected, Prince."
"Thank you, Kahn Flavia." Chrom accepted the compliment, trying not to seem impatient. "Now that you have the throne, can Ylisse count on your support?"
"I'm open to negotiations." The Kahn replied. "But let's not worry about that tonight. Now, it is time to celebrate! Join me, my friends."
Without another word, Flavia marched out of the room.
"Flavia hasn't mellowed, at least." Robin chuckled.
"…She STILL wants to negotiate?!" Chrom scowled. "We won her the throne!"
"And now she's in the position to negotiate." Robin countered, folding his arms and frowning at the Prince's tone.
"Haven't we done enough?!" Chrom's frustration was mounting. "We bled for her, and she still wants more!"
"That's the way the world works, prince." Mitch chimed him, leaning against a nearby pillar. "At least she's still considering helping you. Some ruler's would've kicked you to the curb after you gave them what they wanted."
"But that's not fair!" Chrom immediately regretted the whine that almost crept into his voice.
"Neither is the world." Robin shot back with a disapproving scowl, clearly unimpressed. "Now, if we want to stay on good terms, we should head to the banquet hall. The celebration is beginning soon."
"Celebration?" Lissa asked, perking up.
"It's mostly a formality. The West Kahn will hand power over to Flavia, then he and his warriors will swear allegiance." Robin replied. "It's pretty much a 'No Hard Feelings' party."
"What are we waiting for then!" The princess almost jumped for joy. "Lets get in there!"
"I, Basillio, West Kahn of Regna Ferox, pledge my allegiance to our rightful ruler."
Flavia's smirk couldn't get any bigger as her counterpart made the pledge and took his seat on her right.
The new reigning Kahn's champions were seated like guests of honor at a long table, with Flavia herself at it's head.
Chrom took deep drink from his mug as he glanced around the hall.
A rather large band was playing on a proportionately large stage, playing a Feroxi song of some description. People were laughing and drinking as the evening progressed.
The West Kahn had handed his authority over without complained, giving Flavia a friendly warning to not get too comfortable.
Robin was seated on Chrom's right, talking with the Kahns and pointedly ignoring a group of Feroxi women staring at him with admiration.
Fredrick was on the Prince's left, trying to stop Lissa from sneaking a mug of strong Feroxi alcohol.
It was nice, to not be the center of attention at a party.
"Enjoying yourself, captain?"
Sumia had somehow made it through the room without tripping over her own feet and sank down alongside the prince.
"It's alright, I suppose." The prince shrugged. "I just wish I could tell Emm I got Ylisse the alliance it needed."
"You have." Sumia assured him. "The Kahn just wants to make sure her people benefit too."
"I guess so." Chrom sighed, taking another drink and glancing towards the rest of the room.
The moment his eyes saw her, he choked on his mead.
The woman before him could only be called a goddess. She was dressed like a dancer, but shied away from anyone who would think of approaching her. A shaking leaf during a windy day. Her rose hair cascaded down her back almost to her naval.
To the prince, she looked like perfection incarnate.
A fierce blush spread across his face as she approached the table.
"R-Robin?" She asked, in a voice that Chrom felt he would never tire of hearing.
The Plegian gave her a rare smile. "Hey, Olivia. Did you need something?"
"N-Not at all!" Olivia stammered. "I-I just wanted to s-say hello. You haven't been back in a while, a-and it's nice to see you."
Robin smiled. "I missed you too, Liv."
Olivia's face erupted in a blush that put Chrom's to shame.
"Oi, Robin!" Basillio laughed. "Trying to give Olivia a heart attack or something?"
"No, just stating the facts." Robin's reply made the dancer's blush even more visible.
"T-Thank you!" Olivia turned and dashed away, amazingly not bumping into anyone.
"I will never figure out how she does that…." Mitch muttered, shaking his head.
"Wait!" Chrom cried, whirling to stare at Robin, dumbfounded. "Robin, you know her?!"
"Yeah. She's one of Basillio's underlings." Robin shrugged, stretching his arms. "Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm exhausted."
Before Chrom could say anything else, the Plegian marched out of the room.
The Prince barely acknowledged that the Plegian had left. His mind was almost consumed by thoughts of the rose haired dancer.
He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn't notice Sumia's heartbroken expression, or the tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.
Robin flicked his fingers towards the candle and immediately the flame sparked to life, casting a faint glow around the room.
The Champion's quarters were comfortable enough, not enough to be extravagant by Ylissian standards, but more than most villagers could afford.
Robin reached into his cloak, into the secret pocked sown into it's interior and pulled out a very old and very worn leather bound book, locked with the kind of binding that would take even the most studious scholar weeks to undo.
But the most important feature was the Mark of Grima emblazoned on the cover.
Fortunately, Robin already knew the incantation to remove the bindings. With practiced ease, he recited the ancient words.
The seals released with an almost silent hiss.
Robin flipped through the pages, skim reading the familiar passages before moving on to the new content.
If the Risen were returning, then Grima couldn't be far behind.
Glancing for a moment at his gloved right hand, Robin steeled his resolve.
He would never let that happen.
Emmeryn sipped her tea, savoring taste of the steaming liquid.
It had been almost a full month since her brother had left the capital, and since then, Ylisse had taken a turn for the worse.
Risen were appearing in growing numbers, not just in the outlying villages but in a few of the larger settlements as well. The guardsmen were stretched thin trying to contain them, but lacked the numbers to eradicate the hordes.
Unfortunately, the appearance of the Risen had sparked more bandit activity as well. At least a dozen new bands had appeared, all near the Plegian border.
The Exalt frowned at the thought.
A knock at her door caught her attention.
"Come in." The Exalt called, setting her tea cup down on its saucer.
Phila quietly entered the room, making sure it closed securely behind her.
"Your Grace, I have finished my investigations into the Plegian's claim." The Falcon Knight stated in an official fashion.
"What did you find?" Emmeryn asked.
"Nothing of relevance." Phila reported. "I visited this 'Grim Quarter', as the conscript called it. However, the people in the area proved very uncooperative."
"Really?" Emmeryn paused, frowning. "Do you have any idea why?"
"I do not know, your grace." Phila shook her head with a grimace, remembering the looks of fear and disgust that had plagued her as he walked through the slum. "The few that didn't hide from me openly cursed me as an 'Over-Dressed Murderer.' When I asked where I could find this 'Jody' woman, they just slammed the door in my face."
Emmeryn's face fell. "I see."
"Milady, if I may?" Phila paused, considering her words. "Why are you so fixated on the Plegian's claims? He could very well be lying."
"Then you are accusing Lady Marribelle and Sir Stahl of lying as well." Emmeryn gently chided her knight. "They supported Robin's claims as well."
"Of course, your grace." Phila nodded, looking ashamed of herself. "That kind of thinking was unworthy of me."
"It's hard to change the way we think, when we've been raised to think that way." Emmeryn smiled gently. "Phila, what is your opinion on Robin?"
"He's a Plegian sell-sword, and not to be trusted, your grace." Phila replied honestly. "Their kind will take an innocent's life for a piece of gold."
"I see." Emmeryn took another sip of tea, pondering.
"Why are you so interested in him, your grace?" Phila asked, a serious frown spreading across her face.
"I want to understand him." Emmeryn sighed. "If I can do that, maybe I can understand Plegia."
"Your grace, Plegia has thrown every offer of peace back in your face." Phila stated, trying to reign in her temper. "If they wanted peace, all they had to do was accept."
"That's just it, Phila." Emmeryn countered. "I need to understand Plegia if I'm to prevent another war and it is my belief that Robin might be the first step to that. If a Plegian is willing work with Ylisse, to leave the past in the past, it would show that we're not a faceless enemy to be hated and feared, but just another people, as tired of war as I'm sure they are."
"You've put a lot of thought into this." Phila conceded.
"I have had time." Emmeryn's gentle smile returned. "Peace is a responsibility, Phila, and it is one I will not run from."
Morning came much too quickly for Chrom. Cursing his own stupidity and trying to remember how many drinks he'd had the night before, the prince dragged himself out of bed.
"Milord." Frederick greeted as his charge pulled open the door.
"Were you waiting for me, Frederick?" Chrom yawned.
"Not for long, milord. Just a few hours." The knight replied.
Chrom sighed. He had spoken to his knight regarding his more obsessive actions before, but nothing seemed to work.
"Thank you. Gather the rest of the Shepherds. We leave for Ylisstol in an hour."
"Of course, milord." Frederick jogged of.
One by one, the Shepherds made their way to the Arena's entrance. Many were trying to shake off the effects of the previous evening's celebrations.
All but one.
Robin didn't look ready to travel in the slightest. His hair was dishevelled and he had very prominent dark circles under his eyes.
"Robin, you should have gotten more rest last night. We're not stopping until we reach Ylisstol." The Prince chided, folding his arms.
"You mean, you're not stopping." Robin replyed, yawning loudly.
Chrom froze.
"W-What do you mean?"
"I mean, I'm not going with you." Robin stated flatly. "I'm staying here."
"But you have to come with us!" Chrom said, matter of factly. "Emm's Mark won't let you disobey me."
"It would, were it not for one, tiny, detail." Robin countered. "Do you know what's so special about today?"
Chrom paused, trying to find Robin's point.
"It's the first day of Autumn, Prince." Robin removed his glove to show his featureless palm. "My sentence was over yesterday."
"Damn it…" Chrom cursed under his breath. He had completely forgotten the date.
'Well,' the prince thought, 'it's now or never.'
"Robin, I have an offer I want you to consider."
Robin folded his arms. "Go on."
"I want you to join the Shepherds. Not as a Conscript, but as a full member and our Tactician."
"No." Robin replied flatly.
"Why not?! We need you, Robin!" Chrom grabbed the Plegian's shoulders, glaring into his eyes. "Your skills could save my people!"
"I refuse to serve the exalted family!" Robin roared back, shoving the Prince's hands off him. "Ylisse stole my life once. I'm not giving it the chance to do it again."
"What are you talking about?!" Chrom demanded. "Tell me!"
"I don't owe Ylisse a damned thing, and I am NOT going to put myself into your service, Prince." Robin turned on his heel and marched away. "I've made my decision. Respect it!"
Running feet behind him caught his attention.
"Robin!"
The Plegian glanced over his shoulder. "Donny."
"How could you say that to the Prince?!" The former farmer demand, looking angrier then Robin had ever seen him. "It's not just the royals you're walking away from! Wha' about your Aunty? Or my ma? Are you just gonna abandon them, too?!"
"Of course not!" Robin snapped, silencing the villager.
Breathing out a frustrated sigh, he continued. "Donny, I know you don't understand how I think, but please, just trust me on this."
Donnel looked Robin up and down, considering before he made his decision. "Alright. I trust you Robin."
"Thank you. Now, I need you to stay with the prince. Go back to Ylisse."
"If you're sure…" Donnel nodded, uncertainly.
"Trust me, Donny. I always have a plan."
"Milord."
Chrom glanced up at the knight marching alongside him. "Yes, Frederick."
"I can't help but notice that the Plegian is not among us. What's become of him?" The knight asked suspiciously.
"Robin's sentence was finished yesterday." Chrom said bitterly. "He's staying in Regna Ferox."
Frederick had to fight back a wide smile. Finally, the Plegian wasn't near his charges. Even better, he wasn't even in Ylisse. Chrom might have been hoping he would lend Ylisse his talents, but Frederick couldn't have hoped for a better outcome. The Shepherds didn't need a Grimleal leading them to their deaths.
Frederick's fists clenched involuntarily at the thought of the cult. He was familiar with the horrors they were capable of unleashing. How many Ylissian's had already died at their hands, the knight couldn't even begin to fathom. Not a single one of them deserved forgiveness or mercy.
As far as Frederick was concerned, Robin's absence was a genuine improvement.