A/N: The slow update rate is unavoidable for me right now, but I'll try to get out what I can. Thanks for the feedback so far, amigos!

There's no immediate recognition of the name. His eyes light up when I describe it, though.

"A brand in the shape of a fiery circle?" Libra asks, covering his mouth to hide a yawn. "Like the one on your back, then?"

Whoa, hold the phone. "What?"

We've stopped outside the church. We're both clearly cold and tired, but this is a priority conversation.

Libra looks a little embarrassed. "I noticed it when I was healing you."

Right, that myrmidon bandit cut me across the back.

"That was days ago," I note, surprised.

"It didn't seem like something I should pry into," Libra answers my unspoken question. "You didn't know?"

"I suspected I had it on my body, but no, I wasn't sure," I say. I take a second to think through my next words.

Libra's confused and surprised, but he's still on the fence about me as a person. I don't think I should reveal Risenfication right now. Travel through time-and-space is unbelievable, but it doesn't expressly clash with Libra's beliefs. The dead returning to life does.

Libra's still going along with me because I've been helpful and reasonable over the last several days, and now I've revealed a plot against the Exalt. I've given him something to focus on. I've got to be careful here.

"The Darksign is a brand that's significant in another story, completely separate from the tale of the Shepherds and Grima," I say eventually. "Its presence is why I believe things here won't go entirely as I've heard."

"If it's only on you, though, and you're from another world," Libra starts hesitantly, clearly still unsure if he's willing to believe me on that front, "does it really mean anything?"

I frown. "I'm not sure, but I think it's more likely yes than no. In the original stories, the Darksign affected multiple people, not just one."

I catch something, a flicker in Libra's eyes, a slight wariness.

"It doesn't spread from me, though!" I point out hastily. "In the original stories, the Darksign appeared independently of its bearers."

Best not to mention that the Undead were all corralled into prisons and asylums.

His posture relaxes a little. "But I gather it's still a bad thing to have?" Libra prompts, picking up on my tone.

I grimace. "Maybe? I'm not entirely sure. I feel like the Darksign could be advantageous for me, but on a whole, for this world? It's probably a bad thing."

I shake my head. "Anyway, my point is this: the Darksign shouldn't be in this world. Now that it is, I doubt the original stories that I've heard of the Shepherds will come to pass."

"What does it do, though?" Libra asks, and I hesitate. "If you're thinking your words over so carefully, it can't be anything good," he adds.

I sigh. I can think of one way to end this conversation. "The Darksign can be activated, though I don't know how. When it's activated… the bearer dies."

Libra's eyes widen and he backs up a step. "Oh, Ess'ai…"

"The mechanics of it aren't too important," I say. I feel a little bad for completely misleading Libra. My current phrasing implies that someone's holding a metaphorical sword to my throat, but it's not like anyone other than a bearer can trigger their own Darksign.

"How can that possibly be good?" Libra asks, shaking his head. Then he freezes. "Ess'ai, you're not-"

"Look, it's not too important," I repeat. Oh c'mon, that's the same expression he wore when he thought I was trying to go atoner on him. I'm not suicidal! "Mostly, I wanted to know if you'd heard of it, or seen it on anyone else. If you haven't…"

Libra shakes his head. "I'm so sorry, Ess'ai, but I haven't."

Well, this is sort-of the result I was going for. I've found out that Libra doesn't know about the Darksign, and while he now knows that it's bad he likely won't pry further.

If that look of sympathy is anything to go by, he probably thinks I was asking him because I was looking for someone like myself. I'm going to be a bit of a scumbag and not correct his assumptions.

Honesty is good. Complete honesty is a little too dangerous. I can't have Libra mistrust me because of my potential for becoming an Undead yet.

A really awkward silence falls over us. Libra coughs into his throat.

"Well," he says, "I think we can finalize anything else tomorrow. Would you like to return to the Church for tonight, Ess'ai?"

I nod mutely. Looking at Libra's open expression, it's a little hard to shake off this stupid, vaguely guilty feeling. By the time we re-enter the church, we're the only ones awake. There's no candlelight, so Libra and I slowly stumble our way to a room shared by Jan and Bran.

Sleeping on a cot in a church reminds me of Elder Scrolls. I fall asleep with a small smile.

I wake up to a new day and the sound of heavy snores. Blinking my eyes to chase away remnants of sleep, I sit up and stretch my arms.

Libra and Bran are gone. Jan's still dead asleep, though it's well past sunrise.

I leave Jan behind and idly explore the Church for a lack of anything better to do. The Church doesn't get much traffic, so I find a few books and skim them, sitting on a pew. They're religious texts. I wouldn't normally be interested, but this is about Naga, who I might actually run into someday.

"The Divine Winds howl, and solitude shatters," I quote. Texts on Naga are rather flowery. "Huh."

"It's a mix of story-telling and poetry," Libra says.

"Gah!" I jump. "When'd you get here?"

Libra hides his grin behind a straight-face, as usual. "Good morning to you as well, Ess'ai," he says.

"Uh, morning," I say. "Wait, no! How'd you sneak up on me like that?"

"I made plenty of noise," he says frankly. "You just weren't paying attention."

"Oh," I say. "Guess I need to work on my situational awareness."

I sigh when Libra nods sagely.

"So," Libra starts, "I've been thinking about what you said last night."

I nod. "Yeah. Planning time?"

"There's a few things we need to iron out, yes," Libra agrees. "I've spoken with Father Bran – don't give me that face, I was circumspect – and we agree that we need to get word to the Grand Cathedral in Ylisstol, as well as to the Exalt."

"And tell them what, exactly?" I prompt, curious.

"You've been thinking on this more than I have," Libra says. "What was your general plan?"

"To basically tell them what I told you," I admit. "Validar's the head of the Grimleal and can't be trusted, Gangrel's going to start a war soon, and there's going to be an assassination attempt on the Exalt, so they need to be on guard. They can use that information however they want."

"I meant more along the lines of how you're going to do that," Libra says. "Are you planning on going to Ylisstol?"

I've been musing on this for a while already, so I shake my head. "Probably Ferox," I say. "I don't have enough proof to convince Exalt Emmeryn, but I know enough about Prince Chrom and the Shepherds that I might be able to convince them. I'm going to try to meet with Chrom instead of the Exalt."

Libra has a troubled expression on his face. He opens his mouth to speak, and then closes it. "I don't see how that's related to Ferox," he eventually notes. I have a feeling that's not what he was originally going to say.

"Chrom should be going to Ferox soon to request aid against Plegia," I reveal, finger raised. "The East and West Khans will be hosting a tournament to determine a ruler for Ferox, and Chrom will participate to secure the aid of one of the Khans. I'd rather look for him where I know he's going to eventually be."

I'm not going to try to get to Southtown or the earlier chapters. With my luck, I'll end up there too late, and have to follow them on a merry goose chase. Hah. Let's just circumvent that whole arc, shall we?

"I'd like to speak to Olivia soon, to see when the tournament is being held. She should know, since one of her friends will be representing the West Khan," I tack on. I'm pretty sure that Olivia's going to be there in person. I remember some canon artwork featured her watching over a match with Basilio nearby.

"Olivia? Ah, the dancer from yesterday," Libra says. "That is… not an altogether bad plan."

I frown. "What's the matter?"

"Well," Libra hesitates. "May I be honest?"

I nod firmly.

"I like you, Ess'ai. You feel almost like a kindred spirit," Libra starts. "I felt it from when we first fought together. Though I've known you only for a few days, I feel close to you."

I blink. "Um. Thanks."

"But even I'm still trying to figure out whether or not you're mad," Libra finishes. "I think I'm closer to believing you than not, but I've had time. If you go to Prince Chrom and tell him what you told me…"

"You don't think he'll believe me?"

"Exactly," Libra says emphatically. "It'd probably be better if you just told him that you couldn't reveal your sources for now."

"I guess that's an option," I hedge.

"Trust me on this, Ess'ai," he says. "If you're truly not from this time, then perhaps you simply don't understand how mad your claims sound. But I can guarantee you this: if you tell almost anyone else what you told me, they will not believe you."

His tone cuts through all of my defenses and arguments.

"I'm not saying that you can't tell the… truth, eventually," he adds on gently. "But should you choose to, give it time. As you did for me," he finishes.

I nod. "Alright, fair advice. So don't reveal my story to anyone right away?"

He nods back.

"Noted," I say. "Moving on, that's the gist of my plan. What about you?"

"Ylisstol," Libra answers immediately. "If the Grimleal are planning on resurrecting Grima, then the Grand Cathedral will know what to do. At the same time, I can pass on a warning to Her Grace – if you have specifics, though, it'd be appreciated."

"Perhaps I can write a letter with all the important details for you," I say.

"Or you can come with me," Libra says. "Father Bran shouldn't be travelling as much as he has, so he'll be staying here in either case to look after the children. You'd be welcome for the trip."

I nod. "That's an idea, though I don't know how much good I'd do. I still think warning Chrom directly is a good idea."

"Prince Chrom," Libra corrects. "You might be able to see him in Ylisstol. Unless you think he's going to Ferox right away?"

"I've got no idea," I confess. "I need to speak to Olivia and the performers to figure out when to tournament is, and take it from there."

Libra nods decisively. "Leave that to me. Why not get started on your letter for the Exalt?"

I raise my eyebrows. "You sure?"

He gives me a rare smile. "Trust me."

I get started on my letter.

I lock myself away in the Church to think. I'm going to tell Emmeryn about everything, Valm included. It sacrifices some early-game credibility and makes me look crazy, but if I'm eventually proven right about Gangrel and Validar, I'm hoping they'll take me seriously about Walhart and Grima.

The rest is an exercise in phrasing. And learning how to use quills. I've ruined a perfectly good piece of parchment paper, but I'm writing in a tiny font for the practice. I want my final letter to look perfect.

Inkblots, stop it. You're making this harder than it needs to be.

My back and wrist are stiff when I'm finally done, hours later. I sigh in relief as I stretch. The letter itself is pretty short, but I wanted to make every word count. It's an art.

Then I realize I forgot to mention anything about Gaius in my letter and scowl. Bah. Time to start again. I keep the old draft as a back-up, just in case.

When I'm finally done my re-write, I find Libra getting his hair done up in a braid again. The girl behind him hums as she threads her fingers through his hair.

"How'd it go?" I ask.

"I'll be able to speak to Olivia tonight," Libra answers, eyes closed. "Though they made it clear that I'll have to attend tonight's performance, too."

His tone is casual, but there's the slightest bit of pink in his cheeks.

The child fixing up Libra's hair perks at that. "We're going again?"

"Just me tonight, I'm afraid," Libra lets her down gently. "You've got reading exercises tonight, remember?"

The girl pouts, then brightens. "Oh, but you'll see the pretty dancer, right? I wanna be as pretty as her, someday!"

Libra nods. The girl continues to chirp away as she finishes Libra's braid. "You should marry her, Uncle Libra! Then you can be our parents and we'll be the prettiest family ever!"

I choke down on my laughter for the sake of the girl. There's no mistaking it. Libra is blushing.

"I think you're on to something," I agree. "A noble priest sneaking off in the night to visit a travelling dancer? And not wanting anyone else present? There might be something there!"

"Ess'ai!" Libra opens his eyes to glare at me, but the damage is done. The girl gasps. I can't tell if she's old enough to be faking her astonishment. She's what, seven? "Ess'ai is just joking. Aren't you, Ess'ai?"

"Of course," I say sincerely.

I don't think the girl was convinced by Libra's denials. She bounces off, probably to gossip with the other orphans.

Libra cradles his head in a hand. "Oh, you've done it now."

"Let the children have their stories," I say. "You two would make a pretty couple."

Hey, I ship it.

"W-why are we having this conversation?" Libra asks. "I don't know Olivia at all! I mean, she's certainly beautiful, but-"

"I know, I know," I laugh it off. "Just messing with you."

Libra's eyes narrow. "Wait. Ess'ai, I'm almost afraid to ask, but… in your story, do you know if… if I…"

"If you get married?" I finish for him.

Libra's hesitation gives him away. I've got to laugh, because come on. Fire Emblem and Shipping. I don't know where to start.

"I think we should just leave it at 'it's complex and I don't know for sure'," I say eventually. "You two could make for a decent couple, but I certainly don't know if that's how it's going to play out."

Libra just groans. Hoho, is he shy? It's surprisingly refreshing. Most of the other townsfolk are way less prudish than I'd expected for a medieval-era world.

I take mercy on him. "So, since we've got some time until tonight's performance, I had an idea…"

Libra hears me out for all of 30 seconds.

"You want to what?!"

It turns out I can't use my auto-attack on dummy targets. They don't register as viable targets to my mind's eye. Human allies, on the other hand…

"Stand still." I sigh as my arrow whizzes through the space Libra was occupying.

"I can't truthfully say that I'm sorry," the monk admits. "It's instinct to move when you're being attacked."

"Hitting you is the point of this exercise," I remind him.

"I know, I know," he says. "If this works as you say it will, Ess'ai..."

"It will," I say confidently. "Alright, let's try again?"

Libra nods. We're well outside the city walls of Galt so that no one can see what we're doing. From a distance, it'll look like we're just training.

Which we are, in a sense. Mostly, I want to figure out the mechanics of some of my powers while I'm still with an ally. To start off with, what happens when I attack someone with a defense higher than my total attack?

I breathe deeply to clear my head. It's a beautiful day out. A little warm, with the sun well overhead. Libra looks at me warily. Even with a Mend staff on hand, I'm touched that he's going along with this.

I close my eyes, and my character page appears. I take a second to examine my secondary stats.

Ess'ai
Outrealmer

Atk: 7
Hit: 107
Crit: 1
Avo: 15

It hasn't improved much since I last checked, but it's something.

I think Attack and focus my mind's eye on Libra. It's not a completely intuitive system for me, but it's still pretty fast. Within a few seconds, my combat forecast appears.

Ess'ai
HP: 20

Atk: 0
Hit: 75
Crit: 0

Libra
HP: 44

Atk: -
Hit: -
Crit: -

"Remember," I say, opening my eyes. "Suppress your instincts if you can. Don't dodge."

Libra nods quietly, but he still looks understandably tense. When I re-open the combat forecast, my hit rate has changed to 100%, though my attack remains at 0.

So, it's kind of like when you're fighting Greil in Fire Emblem 9. Stats and percentages can change if a person tries to hold back.

Attack. My body goes through the motions immediately. Eyes open. Bow up. Sight, draw, fire. Libra flinches, but is otherwise still.

Ping.

The arrow clatters harmlessly off of the leather jerkin he borrowed from the town guard. The monk lets out a shaky breath.

"It worked," he says incredulously. "You actually – it – how?"

He bends down to pick up the arrow that I fired at him. It's sitting in the dirt. Somehow, the shaft splintered when Libra blocked it.

"Did you hear that noise?" he continues. "It sounded as though metal was clashing, but this is all I'm wearing…"

We looked for that friendly guard from yesterday, to ask if we could borrow his armor for a few hours. He was agreeable enough, though he asked for Libra's killer axe as collateral.

"I honestly don't think that the armor makes a difference," I say. Libra's class still shows up as War Monk, so there's no stat changes provided by changing outfits. "I could fire this at you point-blank and I wouldn't be able to hurt you."

Libra still looks stunned, but he's more willing to experiment now that he's seen something clearly impossible happen.

My next experiment is trying to attack him while standing adjacent to him. When I close my eyes and think to attack, my body forces me to run away to gain some distance. Then, with a smooth pivot, I bring up my bow, aim, and fire.

Ping.

This time, my arrow clatters harmlessly against Libra's hand. The monk is silent, staring alternatively at his palm and myself.

I want to try to attack from a distance next, to determine my exact attack range. Libra nods silently, so I jog back several hundred feet, keeping the monk in my line-of-sight.

Attack.

Then I'm dashing forward, barely aware of my movements as my fingers fit an arrow to my borrowed bow. Sight, draw, loose, ping.

I blink when I realize I'm breathing hard. It's no surprise. My auto-pilot mode was able to force my body to drink Estus even when I was in critical condition, back when I fought against those bandits.

I suspect that it ignores everything at the expense of completing any given command. Dangerous, but very useful.

Libra's gauging the distance between us. "Around... 20 yards, I'd say?"

"Let's check," I answer, marking the spot from where I fired with an arrow. Libra watches with amusement as I place my feet in front of each other, trying to follow a straight line to the monk.

"That's an unusual method of measuring distance," he notes as I reach him.

"It's reliable enough," I answer absently. "60 feet. So yeah, 20 yards."

How does this world have yards as a measurement of distance – wait, maybe it's a translation skill thing. In any case, it's not like I can check when I don't know the history of the word in my own world.

"Are you done testing, then?" Libra prompts. He looks like he's hoping for a yes.

"No," I say instead. "But feel free to start dodging again."

The arrows that hit Libra are all breaking. I'm still gaining weapon EXP, being over half-way to rank D, but I should gain that regardless of if I hit or miss.

Next up – if I try to fire from next to him, what distance does my body run back to before I turn around to fire? It turns out to also be 60 feet. However, 4 more arrows reveal that so long as I begin my shot with at least 30 feet of distance between us, I'll fire immediately without running backwards first. Interesting.

Libra takes off his armor and switches back into normal robes eventually. It's way too hot for leather, and it's clear my arrows can't hurt him.

Anyway, I only need a few more shots, so I ask Libra to try his hardest to avoid my next attack. My hit rate remains at 75%, but I miss. Then I get a prompt.

Bows reached rank D.

Another 20 shots should get me up to rank C and grant me the +1 bonus damage to all enemies. Is it worth the loss of my Hush arrows, though?

I think about it as Libra and I gather my stray, non-broken arrows. I find 4 of them, bringing up my supplementary bronze arrow count to 5.

"One second," I say absently to Libra.

Bronze arrow. Use item.

My body moves an arrow into my pouch. I check my inventory.

Hush 36/50 (E)

Bronze arrow (4)

Yes! It's like a make-shift armsthrift. Granted, it only works when I miss opponents, but still, I can re-used missed arrows so long as I find them again and they aren't broken.

I need to test this with arrows that I didn't get from Roll. If I can replenish uses of a forged bow with regular arrows, that'll be useful. In the meantime, I use up the remaining 4 arrows to return them to Hush, giving it 40/50 uses.

"Strange," Libra says, examining some shattered arrows. "The way in which these arrows broke upon me doesn't make any sense."

"The fact that a fully drawn arrow can't pierce your skin doesn't make any sense," I say, drawing attention to the bigger puzzle. "Though your attention to detail is as impressive as always."

We take a quick breather. "Anything else you want to try out while we're here?" Libra asks as we sit directly on the ground. He's gathered up the rest of the broken arrows. I let him keep them, since I can't do anything with them right now.

"I think I've tested out most of what I wanted to test," I say. "Although, I can get a little bit stronger and better by firing more arrows."

"Well, yes, training is important with any weapon, but perhaps for today-" Libra starts.

"No, I mean that with exactly another 20 shots I'll literally do around 15% more damage with this bow," I say, grinning when Libra just stares. "Yet another quirk."

Libra exhales sharply. "The more I see, Ess'ai… well, that's not important. Still, I think that's enough for today."

His tone catches me off guard. "Huh? You think I should conserve my arrows?"

He shakes his head and stands up, dusting off his robes. "That's not it."

I give him all of my attention. "What's bothering you?"

"Have you already forgotten our earlier conversations?" he asks plainly. I draw back with a wince.

"Libra," I say. "I'm – I'm not trying to become stronger so that I can go start fights. I want to become stronger because dangerous times are ahead for all of us, and I want to be ready."

He doesn't look happy with my answer. "I know. I'm sure that you'll only use that bow in self-defense, but seeing the nature of your strength…"

He trails off, looking disturbed. I'm feeling vaguely guilty again, though I know I haven't done anything wrong.

"C'mon. What's wrong?"

Libra seems to be unsure, himself. He thinks for a while before he comes up with an answer. "You look strange when you use that bow," he finally says.

"Can you explain a bit further?"

The monk tugs his still firm braid lightly. "It's… you know when you stood close to me, and then ran back to attack?" He continues on even before I finish nodding. "Your motions and the way you turned around to raise your bow… it felt cold. It gave me a bad feeling."

I consider it a mark of friendship that I don't discount his words immediately because of how little intuitive sense they make to me, choosing instead to think it over.

"That makes sense," I admit. Libra looks up at me, a little surprised. "What? It's true. When I tell my body to attack or heal, it's not me that's actively doing anything. My body goes through the motions on its own, so it's natural that my body language changes. I guess you're picking up on that."

I mean, it's not like I know what I look like while I'm auto-piloting.

"And since my body isn't considering anything but that last command I gave it… I'm sure it must look a little unnatural," I finish.

Libra looks relieved that I seem to have some sort of explanation. "Unnatural. Yes, that's the word I'd use to describe it."

"Still," I continue. "I'd really like to get in those 20 shots…"

Libra looks away awkwardly. Argh, what am I thinking? I've been continually shooting at him with a bow, and now I'm saying I want him to go through it again 20 more times.

This isn't a game of stats to him like it is to me. And it can't be easy to just tank arrows freely. As Libra says, it's unnatural to him.

"That said," I amend. "Forget about it, for now. Let's just enjoy the weather?"

Reluctantly, the monk sits back down. He lays down soon after, seemingly uncaring about getting dirt on his robes. I join him.

This isn't a life-or-death situation, but it's still representative of a larger moral dilemma. Given that I actually have time to think, I decide to re-orient my mind.

It's a little worrying that Logic and Humanity are two labels that I'm using to debate opposite viewpoints. I close my eyes and think.

You just made a mistake that you need to go back and correct, Logic says immediately. Having around 25 arrows and a C-rank is better than 40 arrows with a D-rank.

Nope, Humanity says. Having 40 arrows, a D-rank and a better friendship with Libra beats the C-rank.

You're understating the value of weapon rank. When will you find a willing target for 20 more arrows? You won't, and unlike real archers you can't get better by firing at nothing. You'll have to earn experience in battle, and every single shot there will be hard-earned. Libra's among the most understanding of the Shepherds and you're supported to him. Don't waste this chance.

Any more is pushing it, Humanity says. Libra's very, very clearly uncomfortable and we've already got the D-rank. Drop it.

Or what? Logic points out. We'll lose our B-support?

I give Logic some credit. So long as I don't do anything drastic, it's not like there are any objective disadvantages. I doubt that support bonuses change depending on the subtleties of relationships.

Nice. Now you're thinking of Libra as a walking support buff? Humanity's mental tone is flat. You're treating this like a game. Weren't you just thinking earlier of how you wanted to treat him like a real person, considering he's 1 of the only 2 people in this world you can viably support?

If he's going to be our friend, we should be able to actually talk to him, Logic counters. Are you going to avoid uncomfortable topics and avoid getting stronger for the sake of feelings? We want to get to C-rank for all of our sakes. Don't tip-toe around the issue out of awkwardness, you pansy.

You can wait until we meet Robin, then. I'm sure she'll appreciate stat grinding, Humanity says, before trying a different approach. But Libra's already gone out of his comfort zone to help you out. What have we done for him?

We fought together and saved each other's lives. We helped with that escort mission, Logic says. And if Libra wants something of us at any time, we'll give it. If we're friends, then we'll do each other favours at no cost. Right now, he can easily grant us a favour and there's no disadvantages for anyone. This shouldn't even be a debate.

The issue is being a good friend, Humanity says. It's not a question of optimization. Libra's uncomfortable, and this is a non-essential perk you're looking for. He doesn't want to do it, so let it go. It's as simple as that.

The wind is breezing nicely as we lay on the earth. Just enjoying the sunlight is nice. I tilt my head to look at Libra. His eyes are open, looking blankly at the sky.

How funny would it be if Libra could hear my thoughts right now?

"What're you thinking about?" I find myself asking.

"All the strange and curious ways in which Naga acts," he answers.

I hum acknowledgement.

He likely considers the matter settled, Humanity says. It'll be awkward to bring up in a new conversation. One more point for letting the rank-farming drop.

Please. Objectivity should decide our choices, not awkwardness, Logic says coolly. If getting a rank-up is the best decision, then we're bringing it up again.

"You know, none of the holy books on Naga, or even Grima that I've heard of, mention how this world was created," Libra says eventually. "Was it Naga?"

His question is rhetorical, but I answer anyway. "I doubt it, but who knows for sure?"

"… It's a nice world, though," Libra says eventually. "I wish we didn't have to deal with violence, and bandits and theft. If everyone could just get along, it'd be nice."

"Yeah," I agree. Even laying under the hot Plegian sun can be serene. "Hey, Libra?"

"Yes?"

"Are you happy right now?"

"No."

I glance at him, but he doesn't elaborate, eyes still gazing skyward. After a moment, he relents. "But looking at this sky and enjoying the quiet… I feel both happy and sad at the same time."

"So melancholic," I observe idly. Didn't Robin say the same thing about him in a support? "Yeah, that word suits you."

Libra smiles slightly. "And you? Are you happy?"

"I've got every reason to be," I answer.

"That doesn't answer my question," he notes.

I think about it. "Yeah, I'm happy."

"I see," he answers.

I'm feeling whimsical. And sentimental.

"Libra?"

"Yes?"

Logic won't rest until I ask. "Would you rather I not shoot those extra 20 arrows?"

"I'd rather you not, but if you really want to, we can do it."

I can easily convince him. It's the optimal thing to do.

"Nah, that's fine," I say.

"Thanks."

We pass the time in peace, until Libra decides we need to head back.

Libra and I both end up attending tonight's performance. It's the same routine as last night, but it's just as enchanting as it was the first time around. We hang around afterwards to speak with the troupe.

Or rather, Libra is speaking to their apparent head, an elderly woman by the name of Nerine. He's been in the caravan for nearly a half-hour now. I'm waiting outside, watching the last of the straggling crowd disappear and fighting the temptation to eavesdrop.

I shiver. Plegia's as cold at night as it is warm in the day. When another half-hour passes, I decide to approach the caravan door. I can barely hear anything – wait, is that giggling?

"Ah, Libra?" I call tentatively, knocking on the door. "Is everything alright?"

I hear a thud and a muffled exclamation and – yeah, that's definitely giggling. "Be right out, Ess'ai!"

I'm going to ignore the fact that he sounds a little harried. I dutifully step back and resume waiting for the monk.

When Libra emerges, it's with Nerine at his side. From underneath a mop of stringy white hair, her beady eyes find my own. She has a surprisingly alert and piercing gaze for such an old woman.

The woman walks up right next to me and pokes me in the chest. "Ess'ai?"

She doesn't even give me time to nod before she continues on. "We're leaving for Ferox the day after. Be outside the north entrance before sunrise. Don't be late."

She pokes me once more in the chest for good measure before shuffling off back into the caravan.

"Well," I say, blinking as Libra sighs in relief. "You must be one heck of a convincing speaker."

"I did not say anything that was untrue," Libra says in answer. "Also, bless you for knocking."

"… So, I think I've got to ask at this point," I say. "What was going on in there?"

"Nothing," Libra says, a little hurriedly. "I vouched for you, and they were willing to take me at my word."

I raise my eyebrows. "And that took an hour? I figured there must've been some serious debating going on- are those flowers in your hair?"

"Yes they are, Ess'ai," Libra answers wearily. "Yes they are."

I blink at him, and then clap him on the shoulder. "Your sacrifice is acknowledged, buddy. I shall inquire no further."

I'm lying, but I can at least give him some time to recover before I prod him for details.

My last day in Galt is spent preparing for my trip to Ferox, playing with the children, talking to Libra and reviewing my plans. Libra confirmed that the tournament is in around 3 weeks' time. That means that the Plegian war is coming really, really soon.

I'm trying to make sure I'm not making any stupid mistakes. The most obvious thing I might be doing wrong is splitting the party. I'm safe with Libra, and so long as I stick to him it's probable that I'll eventually find my way to the Shepherds.

I'm probably being greedy right now, trying to get to the Shepherds as quickly as possible. That said, I don't think I'm taking much of a risk. Olivia should make it safely to Ferox, so if I stick with her, I'm safe by proxy.

Unless the Dark Souls wildcard has screwed canon. I have no way of telling as it is.

I manage to squeeze in a little bit more experimenting with Libra. It turns out I can't hurt him with blunt objects at all, even if I swing them with all of my might. That's… kind of depressing, since that means surprise attacks are out of the window. I'm hoping that changes as my strength goes up.

I also tease Libra a bit about Olivia, and I'm rewarded with a blush from the usually stoic monk. Hah! As I expected, not even he's immune to the hotness that is Awakening's dancer. He still won't tell me what went on in that caravan last night. I'd be jealous if I didn't know Libra was, well, Libra.

I give him my letter for Emmeryn on our final night together. I've made one for her to read directly, and another copy for Libra that summarizes key points. He can approach her however he wants, and use my letter at his own discretion.

In turn, he offers me a small book of poems on Naga. I turn it down. They seem to be well-written, but I don't want to take away the limited reading material available to the children. Instead, Libra and I while away the hours talking about some of his particular favourites.

It's a pleasant end to our nights together.

Dawn hasn't yet broken. Libra and I walk through the silent streets of Galt, dirt crunching underneath our boots.

"You're sure I can't convince you to join me on the road to Ylisstol?" Libra asks again.

"You probably could, actually," I say, smiling wryly. "But then your sacrifice in the caravan would be in vain."

"And we certainly can't have that," Libra agrees with a nod. I still haven't figured out how he seems to smile behind a completely straight face.

"Speaking of which-" I try.

"No," Libra replies instantly.

"I'll find out what happened someday," I warn him. "And when I do, I shall be relentless in my heckling."

"If that is what Naga wills," Libra says, no longer hiding his smile. "I'm sure we'll see each other again."

I nod. "I'm not sure what exactly my part in this story is supposed to be, but so long as I meet up with Chrom, yeah. We'll see each other again."

We walk out under the archway of Galt's entrance with impeccable timing. Libra takes a few steps ahead of me, then turns his head to face me.

"Until then, Ess'ai."

I give him a two-finger salute as he heads out. He'll be walking a few miles before he picks up a carriage to another Plegian town, and from there another town, and then he'll walk to the border.

I think Libra infected me with his melancholy before he left. I feel sad as I watch him go. It's only natural, I suppose. He was my first real friend in this world.

That doesn't stop a thrill of excitement from shooting through me when I finally hear the traveler's caravan rumble its way to the town entrance.

It's time to see what Regna Ferox has to offer.