Kjelle blinked, then groggily pushed herself out of the snow. She looked about in a daze, taking in the surrounding mountains and pine trees. Her brow furrowed as she became cognizant of the biting cold that the howling wind dragged through her.

Ferox. It had had to be Ferox. The dragon woman had warned that the time travel would be "imprecise", but Kjelle hadn't taken that to mean "a crapshoot". She growled and pushed herself to her feet, now keenly aware of how ill-suited her metal plate armor was for her surroundings. She silently cursed Naga, Grima, and whatever other worthless incompetent gods happened to be involved in her current predicament.

Then she spotted a multitude of glowing red eyes. Risen shambled towards her through the nearby trees, causing her to immediately reassess the practicality of her attire.

"Ugh, you bitch!" she groaned. "You let them follow us?!"

Ordinarily, Risen were not a problem. Kjelle had been killing Risen since she was fifteen years old. They always fought predictably, always went for the same exposed spots in the same exploitable sequences. A lone Risen was laughable, but a swarm was different. Kjelle knew better than to tackle a host like this carelessly. It had taken a Deadlord to kill her mother, but her father had fallen to a rabble. Even worthless values became imposing if you multiplied them enough.

An undead fighter lunged forward, swinging its axe at her neck. Kjelle grunted as she caught the attack on her shield, then skewered the monster with her lance. She quickly twisted, dragging the still-dying creature's body to take a lancer's thrust in her stead. She shoved on her weapon, pushing it out the back of the fighter's neck and into the lancer's forehead. Out of the corner of her eye she saw an archer draw its bowstring, sights trained on her exposed face. She flung her arm up, sucking air through her teeth as the arrow clanged off her armor, the impact jolting painfully through her bones. She yanked her lance out of the disintegrating defeated, then hurled it through the archer's chest. She reached out and snatched the lancer's weapon just as it fell from its vanishing grasp, her lip curling at the inferior quality.

A flash of light caused her to reflexively bring her shield up. Kjelle screamed as an electric shock coursed through her body. She staggered, then glowered at the mage that was already readying another bolt. She shrieked a fierce warcry and charged forward.

Kjelle hated Risen. They fought without honor, without craft, and without purpose. What was the point of putting her life on the line if her opponents didn't care about doing the same? Give her a Deadlord at least. Give her an adversary that could think, that could feel. Even a Grimleal would suffice.

Give her a worthy opponent, so that when death finally came for her she could meet it with a satisfied smile.

Reflet slumped forward on her horse, caught between nausea and a horrific headache. "Wh-Why did no one warn me about hangovers?!" she whined loudly.

"We thought you would be used to them!" a voice called from the back of the column.

"Piss off, Maribelle!" she replied weakly.

"You ok?" Chrom laughed from beside her.

"Of course not," she groaned. "And how are you right as rain?! You drank like three times what I did!"

Chrom scratched his head. "Divine providence?"

"Ugh." She sat up in her saddle, swaying a bit. "Never again. Never subjecting myself to this again."

"Ah, come on! You seemed like you were having a blast last night!"

Reflet grimaced. "I can barely even remember last night. I think I fell asleep under a table."

"You passed out after loudly declaring that spot "The Reflet Room"," Chrom corrected.

She cringed. "Ew. Never again," she repeated. She pondered a moment. "...Hey. You remember that talk we were having about Marth?"

Chrom quirked an eyebrow. "Vaguely?"

"Now that I can actually think semi-straight, there really is something fishy about that guy. Why did he get so mad at me?"

Chrom rubbed his chin. "Good question. When we fought he seemed to have some familiarity with me, but I don't know what might have spurred him to act like that."

"And you're certain there's only one Falchion, right?"

Chrom nodded. "Absolutely. It was forged from the fang of Naga. There's only ever been one."

""Ever"... "Ever"..." Reflet murmured. "...Well, what if it is the one Falchion?"

"You mean a future version?" Chrom asked.

Reflet blinked, surprised. "Uh, yeah, actually. I didn't think you'd piece that together so quickly."

Chrom seemed mildly put off. "I'm not a halfwit, Reflet."

She waved her hands apologetically. "Sorry, sorry! Anyway Chrom, did Robin ever mention anything about Marth being a time traveler as well?"

"Yeah, he did."

She became somber. "...And did he mention what happens to you?"

He frowned. "Well, sort of... He was a bit incoherent for the first few moments after I found him, but the implication was pretty clear. ...So in other words, Marth somehow inherited Falchion from me."

"That's the reasonable assumption, yeah..." Reflet agreed glumly.

Chrom rubbed his chin. "Yet I know nothing of Marth. For him to wield Falchion, he must be from the Exalt's bloodline, but I have no brothers or cousins."

Reflet rested her cheek on her hand. "Presumably."

Chrom grimaced. "Presumably. I hold no illusions about my father, but... I wanted to believe that at the very least, he would never betray my mother." He sighed. "Still, the conclusion seems clear: Marth is my illegitimate half-brother."

Reflet narrowed her eyes. "Perhaps..."

Something was off about this, Reflet was certain. She thought back to Chrom's duel. If Marth had indeed received Falchion from a deceased Chrom, then it was also conceivable that he had been trained in his style. However, Marth's fighting suggested something entirely contradictory to this notion: that he had been honing his technique for his entire life. Given the age gap reminiscent between Reflet's own with her twin brother's, Marth should have had two or three years at the absolute most to learn directly from Chrom; enough time to become comfortable with his techniques, but certainly not enough time to display a mastery, an ease with the blade as simple as breathing. Furthermore, the intensity of Marth's reaction to her display of affection for Chrom was puzzling; why would Chrom's half-brother become so violently offended by something as innocuous as a hug?

Chrom seemed satisfied with his conclusion, but Reflet felt an urge to keep digging. And she knew a good place to hit paydirt. There was one person besides Chrom who had directly fought with Marth.

She looked back toward the middle of the column, where the newest addition to their retinue, the swordsman Lon'qu, rode straight-backed.

Kjelle trudged through the snow, blood seeping through the separations in her plate mail. Every step brought with it a struggle not to collapse. Her vision was blurring, and the buffeting of windborn snow exacerbated this, reducing her surroundings to a muted, dull white.

It was a black joke, really. She had come to a world where heroes and villains of old awaited her challenge, and of all things it would be natural elements that killed her. Not the Grimleal elite or their Deadlord retainers. Not the Conqueror or his right hand. Not even the Risen she had just fought. A godsdamn blizzard. It was a slap in the face.

Her footing gave out, and she collapsed. She didn't even bother trying to get up; the futility of attempting to lift up her heavy armor in this state was painfully obvious. She sullenly laid in the snow, too resigned to struggle but too bitter to succumb. All she could do was to wait see who would be the victor between hypothermia and blood loss in the competition that would bring an end to her life.

Kjelle raised her head a tad, squinting. It was likely just her imagination, but she thought she could make out a vague shadow approaching. She scoffed; it seemed the dark horse of the sordid race, a straggler Risen, would take the prize. Or maybe death actually had a personification, and this was his grim specter. Kjelle sighed in annoyance. For such a busy man, Death was irritatingly unhurried.

The sound of boots crunching through snow met her ears, and she looked up. A well-built, middle-aged man stood before her with a bundle of logs strapped to his back. Kjelle blinked; the afterlife had odd choices in emissaries.

They surveyed each other in mutual surprise for a moment before the man wordlessly dropped his firewood. Kjelle's vision flickered as he stepped closer, and her eyelids drooped shut.

Robin prodded at the campfire with a stick, shifting the kindling so that the smoldering embers could spread their flames. He and Lucina had called an early night on account of their both having slept little and woken early before they left Arena Ferox. Robin had spent the majority of the day regaling Lucina with the stories of how he had met the Shepherds and her other self, how they had been dragged into the Plegian War, his failure to save her aunt, and how Chrom had clashed with the Mad King. He set down the stick and folded his hands.

"...And with that, Gangrel was slain, and Emmeryn was avenged," Robin concluded, eyes distant. He craned his neck toward the stars. "A ceasefire was declared, Plegia was forced to pay reparations, and Chrom was crowned Exalt of Ylisse. He married Sumia in a lovely ceremony—I was the best man, of course—and she gave birth to his daughter. Around this time all of the Shepherds started pairing off, so Libra had his hands full overseeing all of the weddings, excluding his own, which was conducted by the new hierophant." He scratched his nose. "Can't remember the guy's name off the top of my head; most of the prominent clergy were wiped out between Plegia invading the capital and the crusade to save Emmeryn. He was a decent man, but he wasn't particularly effectual and we rarely interacted, so he didn't leave much of an impression on me."

Lucina tilted her head. "Marinus was his name, I believe. Father Marinus."

Robin raised an eyebrow. "Did you know him?"

She shook her head. "No. He perished shortly after the Day of Grima, and he had no successor."

"Hmm. I suppose the church of Naga would take a bit of a hit with the Fell Dragon returning and all," Robin commented dryly.

"Furthermore, Cornelius's betrayal was far more impactful in my time than yours. A major battle was lost because of information he sold to the enemy, and the Wing Commander Phila and her entire squadron were wiped out as a result. Because of this, his name became synonymous with treason, and many lost faith in the institution he once represented."

"Damn. Was he really that bad? All I saw him manage to do was lead a bunch of Plegians to us right before Vasto had him gutted."

Lucina stretched her arms. "Well, you did say that Cornelius is the one who lets the assassins into the castle grounds."

Robin shrugged. "I mean, I'd say I'm somewhere around ninety-five percent certain there. He died like three minutes after we found out about him being a turncoat, so we never really had a chance to learn the extent of his treachery. It just fits, is all."

Lucina put her hand to her chin, pondering. "We should make haste to reveal his deceit as soon as we return to Ylisstol, then. But how do we impugn him without drawing suspicion and ire from our fellows?"

Robin scratched his neck. "...Ok, you're probably not going to like the sound of this, so I need you to promise me you won't make any objections before I'm finished explaining myself. Alright?"

"...Alright..." she hesitantly acquiesced.

Robin breathed in deeply. "...We don't. I want the assassins to make it into the castle grounds."

Lucina stared at him, eyes wide. "...It is taking a great deal of self-restraint to not go back on my word right now."

Robin shook his hands. "I know, I know. Just hear me out. Firstly, they'll be predictable. We shouldn't have any problem handling them, so taking them out in the middle of the attempt prevents them from regrouping and trying again. Like, what if they go after Emmeryn in broad daylight while she's on her rounds and we're not around because their safer plan fell through?"

Lucina put her palm to her lips, mulling this over.

"Secondly, Gaius is in the mix," Robin continued. "He's a good friend and an incredible asset to the Shepherds; no one else has his skillset. The only reason we met him in the first place is because he defected in the middle of the incident. Who knows where we would find him next, if at all? And what if he gets killed in an unlucky fluke because he happened to be on the wrong side at the wrong time?"

"Noire would be distraught at the loss of her father..." Lucina murmured.

Robin snapped his fingers. "Oh, hey! Finally, another overlap between the marriages in our timelines!" He shook his head. "Sorry, not relevant to the topic at hand." He took a deep breath. "And lastly, and most importantly... As I mentioned earlier, Validar will be heading the assassination attempt."

Lucina sat upright, eyes fixated on him. "Wait... So you intend this to be a trap for your father?"

Robin winced. "I would really prefer it if you didn't refer to him as such. He threw away the right to be called that long ago."

She frowned. "I understand." She put her finger to her chin. "Then, if we could capture Validar..."

Robin blinked, then laughed. "Capture him? No, Lucina, I'm going to kill him."

Her eyebrows shot up. "What?! Robin, I know he's a monster, but you can't kill your own father!"

Robin seemed completely unphased by the prospect. "Why not? I told you, I've done it before."

Lucina grimaced. "That's... What I mean to say is, you shouldn't have to."

He leaned back. "...I appreciate the sentiment, I really do. But Validar's a fanatic. He'll never divulge information or allow himself to be used as a hostage, and he's too dangerous to risk keeping captive for an extended period. He needs to be put down, and we won't be given a better chance to take him out of the picture than this. Besides, I consider that bastard no more kin to me than the dirt beneath my boots."

"But won't Grima just revive him?" Lucina questioned. "Or worse, won't he immediately possess Reflet?"

Robin shook his head. "Doubtful. Validar didn't possess me the first time he died, which leads me to believe that that particular ability is dependent on a conduit. In other words, Validar probably isn't powerful enough to invoke the blood curse without Grima's help." He rubbed his chin. "There was a marked difference in his strength when Validar showed up a year later as king of Plegia. Also of note is the fact that he was at no point a Risen. Which means..." Robin steepled his fingers and leaned forward. "Grima will need Validar's body in order to revive him. In other words, if I annihilate his corpse completely, he shouldn't be able to return." His eyes were hard as steel now. "I won't make the same mistake as last time. I won't leave so much as a single hair of him intact. This time, he's going to stay dead."

Lucina was fumbling, grasping for a way to express what felt so wrong about this conversation. "You're so vehement about saving Reflet; don't you at least want to try to save your father?" she asked, uneasily aware that she was playing devil's advocate.

Robin stared at the fire, his expression jaded. "No. No I do not. This is different from Reflet's case. Completely different. Believe me, I did try last time. I begged him not to use me like a weapon. I begged him to understand what Grima would inflict upon humanity. But he didn't care. I was never anything more than a tool for him, a means to the end of the world. Validar won't change. He can't change." Sorrow flooded into his eyes. "And... Though I have no proof one way or the other... My instincts tell me that he killed my mother."

Lucina had a pained expression on her face. "How terrible..." She sighed. "Personally, I have no desire to spare Validar. I believe him to be the one person I could kill without the slightest bit of remorse. But when I imagine what it would be like if I had to think the same about my own father... It just seems so cruel to you. So unfair."

Robin's expression became somber. "...You were dealt an objectively shitty hand, Lucina, but at the very least, you were granted a father who loves you. Never forget that blessing, because not everyone is as fortunate in that regard."

He became silent, lost in his thoughts. Lucina still had questions regarding Emmeryn's safety, and how Reflet might react to learning of Validar's nature, but she bit them back. She knew that Robin had answers for those issues, or at the very least, was working diligently to arrive at them. She could wait to learn the solutions. But for now, her foremost desire was to draw Robin out of his melancholy. Perhaps it was an aftereffect of her guilt over their confrontation, but Lucina found that she greatly disliked seeing him in this state. She would have to rouse him from it.

Robin had spent the whole day talking, so perhaps now, she reasoned, he would prefer to listen instead. Seeking a subject to divert her friend with, she recalled the stories her comrades had shared around their own campfires. Her eyes lit up as a particular tale came to her. "Say, Robin, have you ever heard tell of Leif of Thracia?"

Robin raised his head, eyebrows quirked in mild surprise. "In passing, yes. I'm not particularly familiar with his story, though."

"It was a favorite of Owain's. He used to tell us about how Leif fought to reclaim his homeland and did battle with the evil Raydrik, and then against his reincarnation, the fiendish Deadlord Eins."

Robin narrowed his eyes. "Eins?" He frowned, then began silently counting on his fingers. "...Hold on, there's no Deadlord named Eins. I would definitely remember fighting a Deadlord named Eins."

Lucina smiled, pleased that she had drawn in his attention. "In some traditions, Raydrik is revived as Mus. But other accounts contend that he was so vile that he warped the very seats of the Deadlords, creating a new chair at their table that was his and his alone."

Robin grinned, resting his cheek on his knuckles. "Oh? Must have been a pretty nasty guy, then."

She nodded. "But before we get to him, I have to set the scene. The year is 776 by the Grann Calendar, and the whole of Jugdral is ruled by the emperor Arvis..."

Kjelle groggily cracked her eyes open. She slowly sat up, squinting in confusion as she took in her surroundings. Bright sunlight streamed through a small bedroom. By the looks of things, it hadn't been occupied in some time. She looked about at the meager furnishings: an empty closet and a humble writing desk that doubled as the bed's nightstand. She swung her legs over the side of the cot, gritting her teeth as her wounds flared in aching protest. She stretched a bit, taking note of the simple nightshirt and leggings she now wore. Her lip curled as she contemplated who exactly had changed her clothes, and, more importantly, what they might have done with her armor. She stooped to check under the bed, finding only a bedwarmer that was rather disappointingly not her weaponry.

Kjelle pondered. Obviously, she was not dead. That strange man was likely responsible for that. She pulled up her shirt to inspect her midriff and found it bandaged. The fact that her wounds had been tended to, and that she was not shackled in some grimy basement, probably spoke towards good intentions. Still, Kjelle didn't plan on lingering. She had a job to do, and godsdammit, she was going to do it.

She stepped toward the room's only door, stopping dead in her tracks when it abruptly swung open of another's accord. A middle-aged woman stood in the threshold, holding the doorknob in one hand and balancing a bowl of soup in another.

The woman quirked her eyebrows in surprise, bright blue eyes shining under shortcut blonde hair. "Well, aren't we a hardy one! Who'd have thought you'd be up and about so soon? When Roland dragged you in, I thought you were a goner for sure!"

Kjelle inclined her head. "I don't know who you are, but I take it you've been caring for me. Thank you."

"Whoops, forgot to introduce myself. My name is Aude. And who might you be?"

Kjelle looked at the ceiling. Lucina had made such a big deal about hiding her identity, what with taking that tacky mask from Gerome and going through all of that trouble with her hair (Why not just cut it off?), but why should Kjelle bother to do the same? It wasn't like she was royalty or anything.

"...Kjelle," she replied.

Aude walked past her to set the bowl down on the desk. "Well, Kjelle, what exactly were you doing bleeding to death in the middle of a blizzard?"

Straight to the point, something Kjelle appreciated about Feroxians. However, that particular piece of information was probably something she should keep to herself. "Run-in with some slavers," she lied.

Aude sneered. "No doubt working for that worm Cassius, I'm sure. Despicable." She turned around. "Alright missy, you sit yourself right down and eat."

"I appreciate the hospitality, but I can't stick around," Kjelle declined, trying very hard not to look at the food lest the pangs in her stomach intensify.

The housewife put her hands on her hips. "That was not a request."

Kjelle stiffened. Gods, she hadn't seen an expression like that since her mother was alive. "Al-Alright," she immediately acquiesced. She begrudgingly sat down, glancing uneasily up at Aude, who stood over her with arms folded. Kjelle raised the spoon out of the broth, then hesitantly took in a mouthful. Her eyes shot wide; it was a simple dish, with very little in way of spices or seasoning, and her standards had probably declined under her forced diet of "whatever the hell was still edible", but gods if it wasn't delicious all the same. She ravenously brought up three more spoonfuls in quick succession, but abruptly stopped when she felt a light smack on the back of her head.

"Table manners, child," Aude tutted. "I didn't make that so that you could eat it without tasting it. One mouthful at a time, and chew your meat." She smiled. "I'll go fetch you another bowl."

Kjelle would have scowled if if her mouth hadn't been otherwise occupied.

Aude was ladling out Kjelle's fourth serving when her husband opened the door.

She glanced up. "Ah! You took a while, Roland! Our guest is already awake! Spunky little firecracker, that one."

Roland silently shut the door, then wearily pulled out a chair and sat at the table, hands steepled. His green eyes were dull with fatigue.

Aude immediately became concerned. Roland always had a smile for her when he returned. "Dear? What's wrong?"

"...Oliver's dead."

Aude dropped the bowl she was holding, producing a loud shatter. There came the thumping footsteps of someone running on hardwood floor, and Kjelle burst into room. "What happened?! Are we under attack?!"

Aude cursed under her breath and immediately crouched to begin picking up the clay fragments. "Girl, fetch a rag from the linen closet and help me clean this mess up."

Kjelle scanned the dark-haired man. "Who's this?"

"My husband," she answered. "Rag. Now."

"Y-Yes, ma'am," Kjelle nodded before heading off to complete her assigned task.

Aude stood up, set the fragments on the fireplace mantle, then strode over to Roland. "What happened?!"

Roland gritted his teeth. "He was stabbed in the back, multiple times. They found him in a ditch at the highway crossroads. Must have been that bastard Cassius and his gang. Had to be."

"Damn him!" Aude spat. "If I ever get my hands on that slimy toad, I'll wring his godsdamn neck!"

"My dear, as much as I would love to see that, it has to be me. I have to be the one to put that monster down. He-" Roland put his hand to his face. "Oliver was... Oliver was my..."

Aude placed her hands on his shoulders, "I'm so sorry, dear."

He intertwined her fingers with his. "So much for retirement. I thought the villagers could handle themselves, but if those sons of bitches could get even Oliver..." He sighed.

His wife pursed her lips. "Are you sure you can do this? How long has it been since you've had to wield a sword?"

"...I'll manage."

"I can handle it for you."

Roland and Aude both jerked their heads up, staring at Kjelle. Neither had noticed her re-enter.

She looked at Roland dead-on. "You're the one who saved my life, right? I owe you. If this Cassius guy really did kill your friend, then I'll get you vengeance."

Roland narrowed his eyes. "He's out of your league, kid. Just because he's a coward doesn't mean he's not dangerous. An amateur like you wouldn't stand a chance."

Kjelle bristled. "Amateur?!"

"Amateur," Roland emphasized flatly. "I can see it at a glance."

"Who do you think you are, old man?! You don't know a godsdamn thing about me or what I've been through!"

"Can't say I do. Can't say I care either. But I'm still responsible if something happens to you. You're not going anywhere. You challenge him at your level, and he'll reduce you to a smear in the snow." He grimaced. "Or worse, he'll keep you alive."

Kjelle glowered at him. "...Where is my armor?"

"Woodshed. You're welcome, by the way. I had to make a return trip to collect that crap, what with having to strip it off you in order to carry you."

Kjelle threw the requested towel on the table, then turned on her heel and made for the door.

Roland rolled his eyes while Aude gave something that was a mix between a laugh and a sigh.

Kjelle was getting used to the cold. If she thought about it, it wasn't all that much worse than it had been back home. Hell, at least in this era the sun was usually out. She briefly pondered why Lissa had ever complained about not being able to see it anymore. The thing was stupidly bright. Why would she miss something she couldn't even look at for more than two seconds?

She threw open the woodshed's door, sighing deeply in relief when she found her armaments neatly organized in the corner. She stooped down to inspect her gear, pleasantly surprised to find that her savior had even gone to the trouble of giving her armor and weapons a good cleaning. This was the work of a man who understood warfare.

There was a creaking noise behind her. Kjelle guessed that this had been deliberate and for her benefit. She glanced over her shoulder to find the man leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

"You're a soldier, huh?" Kjelle asked.

"Used to be," he replied dryly. "Was pretty good at it too, until I quit."

"What made you stop? Bad leg? Bad back?"

He grinned. "Bad woman."

Kjelle smirked. "I like her. You have good taste."

"Aude is my sunshine. And she would give me unending hell if I let something happen to you." He jerked his chin. "Back in the house. Let's go."

Kjelle stood up. "I'm grateful to you and your wife. I really am. I'd feel bad if I left without doing anything for you. But I'm not about to sit around with my thumb up my ass. I have somewhere I need to be, someone I need to find. I'll cut down the rat bastard to settle up with you, and then I'm gone."

"One, you're not healed yet. Two, Cassius would kill you even if you were."

"We'll just see about that."

He stood up straight. "...Alright. How about this. A quick spar." He picked up a thin firewood segment. "I'll use this, and you get to use your lance. First contact. I win, you stay here until you're fully healed, and you leave Cassius to me. You win, you do whatever the hell you want."

Kjelle stared at him, baffled. "Are you screwing with me?"

"A concession? Wise choice."

She snatched up her lance. "Don't think I'll let you mock me like this. I'll lay you out."

He smirked. "Sure you will, kid."

She growled.

The two stood some paces from each other, each taking a stance. Kjelle wasn't the most limber of fighters given that she was used to battling under the constraints of heavy armor, but the reach of her lance would be more than adequate. She just had to strike first, and strike decisively. Besides, her opponent was certainly pushing forty years old. Not a problem.

The man had a bored look on his face. "We can start whenever you want. You don't need to bother announcing."

A vein bulged in Kjelle's brow. She sized her opponent up a moment, then swiftly jabbed.

Her adversary tilted to the right ever so slightly, allowing the lance to slip by harmlessly. He casually grabbed the shaft and gave a rough tug. Kjelle, surprised by his strength, was dragged forward, stumbling as she tried not to fall on her face. She regained her footing just in time for the man to lightly tap her on the forehead with the log.

Kjelle stepped back, completely at a loss. She had been defeated overwhelmingly. Even Lucina couldn't manage something like this. Hell, Kjelle wasn't even certain her own mother could have. She had thought that constant battle with Risen would have prepared her for anything this era could throw at her, but that belief had just been ruthlessly crushed. "How... How the hell did you do that?"

He shrugged.

Kjelle was silent a moment, then stiffened her shoulders and bowed. "My name is Kjelle."

"Mine's Roland."

"Roland?"

The man nodded proudly. "That's right, just like the hero from The Scouring."

"The hell's a Scouring?"

Roland narrowed his eyes. "Not very cultured, are you?"

"Trust me, if you had my upbringing, you wouldn't be either."

She cleared her throat, then went on her knees, bowing on all fours as she lowered her forehead to an inch off the snow. "Master Roland, I ask that you take me on as your disciple. There is much I could learn from you."

Roland quirked his eyebrows.

"Hell no."

Kjelle jerked her head up. "What?!"

"Hell. No. I'm retired. After I put Cassius down I'm going back to my nice simple life of hunting and gathering. If I wanted a brat tagging along and asking me stupid questions..." He abruptly trailed off, eyes sorrowful as he stared at a small stone marker off in the distance.

"...Master Roland?"

He snapped his head back toward her. "Don't call me that," he growled.

"Please! You have to teach me! I could get so much stronger training under you!"

Roland tilted his head. "Weren't you just going on about how you can't stay here? And now at the drop of a hat you're willing to stick around for what, months on end?"

Kjelle tightened her fists. "That was before I knew how weak I really am. What the hell good can I do if I can't even beat an old man?!"

"You say some rude things, brat. That part of your upbringing too?"

"Mother never believed in mincing words."

"Hmph. Well,-"

Roland fell short, ears perking as he heard shouting. He and Kjelle turned to see a young boy sprinting through the snow. His panic was apparent as he ran haphazardly, nearly tripping before he came to a halt before the two.

"What's the matter, kid?" Roland asked.

"Mr. Roland! Th-There's-! In the village-! Cassius's men!" he gasped.

Roland became rigid. "Girl. Give me your lance."

Kjelle looked at him. "But I-"

"Now."

Kjelle relinquished her weapon without further protest.

"Run and tell Aude what's happened," he commanded before taking off in a dash.

Kjelle bit her lips as she watched the rapidly vanishing figure. She turned toward the boy. "Hey, kid. How many of those guys were there?"

"F-Five," he wheezed, hunched over with his hands on his knees.

Kjelle cursed under her breath. She looked at Roland's house for a moment, then turned and sprinted after him.

Cassius's men stood at the village center, facing the village elder and the small crowd gathered behind him. In spite of being significantly outnumbered, the mercenaries were completely composed, confidently displaying their weaponry while the unarmed citizens shuffled restlessly.

The elder cleared his throat nervously. "My good men... While Sir Cassius's offer of... protection is most gracious, he offers it at a price we cannot pay."

"That'd be Lord Cassius," the lead mercenary corrected. "An' you'll be findin' this to be a rather agreeable deal. You can never have too much assurance. All sorts of accidents be fixin' to happen 'round these parts."

"Like what happened to Oliver, you son of a bitch?!" a man yelled from amidst the crowd.

The mercenary smirked. "Unfortunate, that. Got some bad folks roamin' the wilderness. Awful risky, travelin' alone. But we can make the roads safe."

"Only way that's happening is if you bastards all drop dead!" another shouted.

"Oh, you're hurtin' my feelings, mate! I think I'm abouta cry!" the mercenary laughed. He turned back to the elder. "Now then, we'll be takin' our down payment." He scanned the crowd, then pointed at a young woman. "...You. You'll do."

"But we have agreed to nothing!" the elder protested.

The mercenary shook his head, his hand sliding down to his sword pommel. "Mate, mate, this was never an agreement. It's an arrangement."

"Only arrangements happening here are for your funerals. Not that you shitheads deserve anything of the sort."

Everyone turned as one to view the newcomer. Roland rested Kjelle's lance on his shoulder, a look of bored contempt on his face. There was a brief silence, and then the crowd began to cheer and chant his name.

"Well, well! Roland, is it? You must be that bloke Lord Cassius was talkin' about!"

"And you're his lackeys, I take it?"

"Distinguished retainers, matter o' fact."

"Mmm. You get one chance. Leave now, and live."

The mercenary grinned. "Sorry mate, this here's a collection run. Can't go back empty-handed, now can we?"

"No, I suppose you can't. Alright then... Quick question before we begin. Were any of you the ones who killed Oliver?"

"The tall bloke? Can't say we ever had the pleasure of gettin' personal with him."

Roland glared. "That so? Well then, you lot can have quick deaths."

By the time Kjelle arrived, three of Cassius's men were slain, and Roland was in the midst of dueling the remaining two simultaneously. The aged warrior was holding his own, but he hadn't escaped injury. At the current rate, he wouldn't last much longer. Keenly aware of this, Roland began retreating. His opponents, overestimating their standing, eagerly pursued. Roland drew them towards a torch, then in a deft spin swung and yanked it out of its sconce to rake it across one of the men's face. As the mercenary howled and raked his fingers over his seared flesh, Roland tossed the torch at the man's partner, forcing the second foe to shield himself and provide Roland ample opportunity to ram Kjelle's lance through the burned man's throat.

The lone surviving mercenary, the one who had lead the pack, growled and charged Roland. There was a rapid exchange before the mercenary scooped up snow in his hand and flung it in Roland's face. The ex-soldier staggered backward, and though he staved off injury, he lost his footing and fell on his back. He tried to scramble back onto his feet, but the mercenary was quickly on top of him, raining down blows that Roland could only barely keep at bay.

While the spectators were paralyzed in the face of mortal combat, Kjelle had witnessed comrades fighting off certain death more times than she cared to recount, and as such, had no problems reacting to this turn of events. She sprinted to one of the felled mercenaries, snatched up his sword, and screamed as she charged Roland's assailant. The mercenary just barely had time to turn his head before he was impaled.

It was far different from putting down a Risen. There was less yield; the death had more weight. Kjelle could feel hot blood running down her bare arms, and the flesh and blood struggling against the blade, as if the body was trying to resist this finality. Where a Risen simply faded, a human struggled to the end.

And then abruptly it all ceased. The mercenary slumped forward, then toppled over with a push from Roland. The man quietly rose to his feet.

"...So, that's what it feels like, huh?" Kjelle asked as she stared at the listless corpse.

She immediately vomited.

Roland gazed down at her. "...Thanks, kid. I thought I told you to go tell Aude what was happening, but you saved my hide, so I suppose I shouldn't get angry."

"Well, you never told me not to follow," Kjelle smiled.

Roland smirked. "True enough. But did you even do what I asked you in the first place?"

"Er... Not exactly."

Roland sighed in exasperation. "Dammit. We're in for it when we get back. Well, we'll leave this mess to the village folk. I'm in enough trouble without you catching cold."

Kjelle nodded, then stood up.

Roland had a quick discussion with the elder, then began to walk with her.

"Hey, kid. You remember that favor you were asking me?"

"Yeah?"

"...I'll think about it."

Robin finished the last few bites of his jerky as he leaned against a tree. Lucina stood close-by, observing the village nestled in the valley past the hills they stood atop. It had taken them five days of travel to reach this point, which, coincidentally, had afforded Robin just enough time to tell his tale in full.

"Do you think we'll find her here?" Lucina asked.

"Hmm... Maybe. Cassius's manor is still another three days or so from here, but Kjelle doesn't have any reason to go there if her mentor is still alive. She's probably in one of the villages in the vicinity. I'm not too familiar with this area though; we only passed through two villages on our way to the manor." He crossed his arms and raised his chin skyward. "You know, I made a very nice map that would've been really helpful right about now. Such a shame that someone had to go and shred it."

Lucina fidgeted, flushing. "I apologize once more. It was meant to be a symbolic gesture..."

Robin smirked. Lucina was surprisingly cute when she squirmed like this. He waved his hand, laughing. "I know, I know, it's fine. You're lucky it's all up here," he said, tapping his head with his finger. "My mind is a steel trap."

Lucina suddenly grinned and snapped her fingers. "So not a silver trap!"

Robin stared blankly. "...What?"

Lucina's mouth opened slightly. She was silent for a moment, and then her cheeks developed a red tinge.

Robin tilted his head. "Was that... Was that an attempt at a joke?"

She stared at the snow.

"Like... Oh, I think I get it! Like weapon quality, yeah?"

"Th-That was the intent..."

"Hahahaha! Oh man, that's bad. Well, it's the effort that counts, and at least you had a reasonable base."

Lucina scowled. "Don't patronize me." She donned her mask. "Let's get moving. The sooner we get to questioning the villagers, the sooner we can find Kjelle."

Robin quirked an eyebrow, then leaned over and plucked the mask from Lucina's face.

Lucina's hands flew to her now bare face. "Robin?! What are you-?!"

Robin waved the mask. "You don't need this. We're deep in Ferox. Even if someone notices and recognizes the brand in your eye, they're not going to care."

"That's my decision to make!"

Robin grimaced. "Alright... Cards on the table: I've never cared for the Marth persona. I'd much prefer it if you could just be you."

She blinked.

Robin looked away. They were both blushing now. "Not to mention, if Kjelle spots us first she'll have an easier time recognizing you without this on." He glanced at her, then offered her mask back.

Lucina was silent for a moment, then sighed. "...Hold onto it for now." She began walking toward the village.

Robin gave a slight smile of triumph as he tucked the mask into his coat pocket.

Kjelle was quickly becoming accustomed to life in Roland's household. Chopping firewood, milking cows, and collecting eggs had all become routine. If not for the itch caused by the man's refusal to formally acknowledge her as an apprentice, Kjelle might have even gone so far as to call it a comfortable existence.

As Kjelle had just learned, Roland apparently went to the village weekly to gather news, barter, and catch up with friends in the tavern. Given that Kjelle had no interest in these things, she found herself leaning against the well in the village center, drumming her fingers on the wooden beam as she waited for Roland to emerge.

Because of how unexpectedly ordinary her life had become, Kjelle doubted her senses when she caught a flash of cobalt. She blinked, then looked about wildly. She thought she saw that same blue hair again for another instant before it disappeared from view.

Kjelle stood upright. It was possible she was going crazy, but she wasn't just going to let this go. She sprinted through the crowd, crudely shoving her way through passerbys in her pursuit of her potential liege.

She at last burst into a clearing, and she could only stare in disbelief. Sure enough, Lucina stood in front of the very tavern Roland had gone into. A white-haired man wearing a purple coat stood next to her. They were discussing something, but that was irrelevant.

"Lucina!" Kjelle shouted.

The pair stiffened, then turned toward her at once.

"Kjelle!" Lucina beamed.

"Huh. That was way easier than I thought it would be," the man said.

Kjelle sprinted to the princess. "Lucina! What the hell are you doing here?!"

"We came to find you!" she smiled.

Kjelle blinked in confusion. "What? Why would-... Hold on, who the hell is this guy anyway?"

The man scratched his head. "Umm... I'm Robin."

Kjelle squinted in suspicion, taking in his Plegian coat. "Robin as in...?"

"Robin as in that Robin, yeah," he nodded. He cringed. "Well, not that Robin per se, more like a different version of that Robin. A separate that Robin."

Kjelle looked at Lucina in bewilderment. "The hell is he on about?"

"Robin has traveled through time, like us. The main difference between our worlds, aside from his gender, is that he comes from an era where we ourselves had already come to the past."

Robin cleaned one of his ears absently. "That's how we tracked you down, by the way. I'd already found you once before, so this was basically me retracing my steps."

Kjelle looked at Lucina as if she were a fool. "And you believe this load of crap?"

"Without reservation," she nodded.

"The hell is wrong with you?! This guy could be a Grimleal for all you know!"

Robin and Lucina winced in unison.

"I assure you, Kjelle, we have gone over that concern very thoroughly," Lucina stated flatly. "Robin is a trusted friend, and he holds power and knowledge well beyond our means. We are quite fortunate to have him on our side."

Kjelle quirked an eyebrow. ""Power"? What, is he supposed to be some kind of tough guy?"

"He killed his world's Grima."

Kjelle's eyes widened, then she burst into raucous laughter.

Robin glanced at Lucina. "Played your hand out a bit fast there," he commented dryly.

"Kjelle, stop laughing!" Lucina pleaded. "I promise you, Robin is by far stronger than we are! I've seen his ability myself!"

Kjelle managed to compose herself a bit. She assessed the situation. She did not trust this man. Not in the slightest. The fact that Lucina had been baited by his bullshit story was troublesome, but that could be brushed over once she coerced him into confessing his lies. All she had to do was beat the truth out of him. And Kjelle had always been a fan of the straightforward approach.

"Alright, prove it then. I challenge you to a duel," she declared, pointing at Robin.

Robin frowned. "Absolutely not."

"Hmph. What a surprise, he's a craven."

Robin pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright, let me spell out for you how this is factually going to go: I'm going to kick your ass. It won't be close. You're going to get mad, and you're going to challenge me again tomorrow. At which point I will kick your ass again. This will repeat ten or eleven times before I get sick of it and pretend to throw a match. After this you will become insufferable until I decide to knock you down a peg again, leaving you hungering for a rematch. Rinse and repeat until you die."

"Oh? You saying I bite it in your supposed future?"

"...We all do," Lucina replied somberly. "Including our parents. Robin was the only survivor."

"Something I'm damn well going to fix this time around," he added.

"Hmph. Tell me then, Mystery Man: How do I die?"

Robin grimaced. "...Standing," he replied evenly.

"Ha! Well, can't ask for better than that. I bet you only lived because you ran and hid while everyone else was doing the real fighting."

Robin could sniff out a ploy when one presented itself. Even Kjelle wasn't this callous, not without a deliberate reason.

All the same, he involuntarily tightened his fists.

"Kjelle, it is more likely that I will spontaneously drop dead from an aneurysm than it is that you will defeat me."

"This is true," Lucina confirmed.

"Realistic odds if you're too much of a coward to accept my challenge."

Robin narrowed his eyes. "I fought Walhart. I fought Mus. I fought Grima. Do you really think I'm afraid of fighting you?"

"Well if you're not, then quit being such a godsdamn little bitch!" Kjelle shouted. "Show me what you've got already!"

Robin sneered. "Playing with children is beneath me."

A vein bulged on Kjelle's brow, and she abandoned all pretext of subtlety. "Shithead! Assface! Femboy! Shrimpdick!"

Robin rolled his eyes. "I don't have to take this." He glanced to Lucina. "I'll let you handle her. I'll be waiting at the gates." He began to walk away.

A memory of the one time she had seen the Lady Robin of the future-past truly angry sprang to Kjelle's mind, and she immediately seized onto it. "I'd wanna hide too, if I was so ugly that I had to wear that ragged-ass piece of shit trashcoat to distract everyone from my face!" she shouted.

Robin stopped in his tracks. He slowly turned his head, eyes radiating a bizarrely cold, dead fury.

"What the fuck did you just say about my coat?"

Lucina's brows shot up high. Robin hadn't taken that tone even in the midst of their heated argument in Arena Ferox. "Uh-oh. Kjelle, apologize. Now."

But Kjelle wasn't about to let this chance slip her by. She grinned. "I'd sooner trust Lucina with picking out my wardrobe!"

The princess squinted. "Now what on earth is that supposed to mean?"

Robin was silent a moment, then took a deep breath.

"Alright bitch, you wanna dance?! We'll godsdamn dance!" he shouted as he drew his sword and his Thoron tome.

In what could be described as divine intervention for the amount of harm it saved Kjelle from, a fiery explosion suddenly rocked a nearby building. The three instantly refocused, and Roland burst out of the tavern doors a moment later. Villagers screamed and ran in panic, the central area rapidly clearing out to reveal a sorcerer and his entourage.

"Cassius," Roland spat.

"And this is why I insisted on wearing my armor. So that's him? What's his deal?" Kjelle asked.

"Fancies himself a noble when Ferox hasn't operated by a feudal system in two hundred years."

"Two hundred and thirty-two years, actually," Robin corrected. He blinked. "Wait, sorry, never mind that. I mean two hundred and twenty-nine years."

Roland glanced at Robin and Lucina. "Who are they? Friends?"

Kjelle shot a glare at Robin. "One of them, at least."

Cassius strolled forward, a troupe of some twenty men comprised of mercenaries, knights, and dark mages following behind him.

Cassius gave a mock bow. "Ah! Judging by the description, you must be Roland. A pleasure. I am Cassius, lord sovereign of these lands. I'm here on rather unpleasant business, I regret to say. Roland, my friend, I'm afraid you and that girl you stand with are accused of a most heinous crime, the murder of knights of the realm."

"Those pieces of shit weren't knights!" Kjelle spat.

"Oh! She confesses! You all heard it!" he cackled to his soldiers. "Well, with guilt proven, we move on to sentencing!" He licked his lips. "It'd be a pity to put such a lovely creature to the axe, so we'll commute the death penalty to a lifetime of... servitude."

"Hold, Cassius," Roland interrupted. "I invoke the law above all others in this land: The Trial by Blade."

"On what grounds?" the sorcerer hissed.

"I claim you to be responsible for the murder of my friend Oliver. Likewise, you hold me to be responsible for the deaths of your men. Our accusations bear equal weight, so a contest of arms may be called."

"And why should I go to the trouble? I can have all of you killed this instant should I command it so."

"Perhaps. But do you really think the Khans will overlook reports of The Trial by Blade being desecrated? For anything else you would be able to pin the blame on bandits, but the Trial by Blade is an absolute right. ...Besides, how much more resistance do you think this village could possibly give you if I'm struck down in plain sight, in a fair fight?"

Cassius considered. "...Hmph. Very well. Even a lord is not above the law set by kings." He gestured broadly. "These men shall be my seconds. You have my assurance that they will not act untowardly."

"Kjelle will suffice for mine," Roland replied.

Cassius raised his hand. "We shall take a moment to prepare ourselves. We shall reconvene at the center of the village."

"Fine by me."

Robin glanced at Roland as the man drew and inspected his sword. "This is a setup. He's going to pull some shit."

"Obviously. I'll deal with that as it comes."

The tactician shook his head. "Don't worry. Leave it to me. You just focus on gutting him."

Roland quirked an eyebrow, then smiled. "Hmm. You've got good eyes, kid. Know your way around a fight?"

Robin smirked. "I'd be dead if I didn't."

Roland looked toward Kjelle. "Girl, if something happens to me, you're to take Aude and flee east. Her father lives two villages over. You should be safe with him."

"Nothing's going to happen to you," Kjelle replied. "Hurry up and kill this bastard or Aude will yell at us for being late to supper."

Roland grinned.

Robin folded his arms as he watched the two middle-aged men duel. Cassius's followers had blocked off all of the alleyways, leaving Roland no avenue for escape and Cassius with only a handful of "seconds". Villagers milled about nervously at the perimeter, torn between support for Roland and fear for their lives.

For the type of man he was, Cassius was surprisingly adept at combat, suggesting that he had at some point run with bandits, perhaps slavers. And to Robin's eyes Roland was, by contrast, clearly once a military man. Just as Roland knew how to press forward aggressively, Cassius knew to keep at range and create a boundary with his magic's attacks.

Suddenly Roland stiffened. "What is the meaning of this, Cassius?!"

The sorcerer glanced behind him, where one of his seconds held his sword to a little girl's throat. "Oh dear. It seems one of my men is acting of his own volition."

"I answer to no man's will but my own," said mercenary declared in a wholly unconvincing tone.

"Oh no, we dare not move against him with the child's life at risk," another mercenary said in a deadpan voice.

"How lamentable," Cassius shrugged. "That man will face justice once our business here concludes, you can be certain. Of course, the severity of his punishment will depend on whether or not the girl is still alive."

"You bastard!" Roland snarled, lunging forward with a strike that sliced open Cassius's cheek.

Cassius scowled, then chuckled. "Roland, Roland... We both know how this ends. Putting it off is only a disservice to an innocent."

Roland could now hear a woman screaming outside the ring, presumably the girl's mother. He gritted his teeth.

"A hostage?! What honorless savages!" Lucina hissed. She looked frantically to Robin. "Can you do something about this?"

He grinned deviously. "Ohoho, yeah."

She smiled from this assurance. "Would you like me to handle a few of them, then?"

"You're assuming there'll be any left." With that, he vanished.

Kjelle's eyes went wide, and she jerked her head about. "Where'd that idiot go?!"

Lucina smiled knowingly, staring straight ahead. "To work, Kjelle."

The girl in question was understandably quite distressed given her present circumstances. She should have known that any day that opened on her spilling juice on her favorite picturebook was assuredly going to go downhill. She could only sniffle as she watched Mr. Roland fight the meaniehead villain.

Out of nowhere, a man in a purple coat seemed to pop into existence in front of her. The girl's first instinct was to scream, but that faded the moment the stranger looked at her with a warm face and bright, gentle eyes. What's more, the scary men holding her seemed alarmed by his sudden presence; clearly, he wasn't a friend of theirs.

The man crouched down to address her. "Hello. My name is Robin. Would you like me to take you back to your mother?"

She gaped at him, then nodded furiously.

Robin smiled reassuringly, ignoring the mercenaries as they drew their weapons. His hand drifted down to the hilt of his own sword.

"Alright then. Sweetheart, I'll need you to close your eyes for, oh... Let's say five seconds."

Resignedly, Roland dropped his sword, his weapon clattering on cobblestone.

Cassius suppressed the urge to cackle. Always wait for the death blow before indulging in mockery.

Roland gazed past Cassius, and his eyebrows suddenly raised in surprise. He smirked, and bent down to pick his sword back up.

Cassius gave an exclamation of shock and stepped backwards. "Wh-What do you think you're doing?! Do you not care if the girl's life is forfeit?! Throw your weapon away, now, or the little brat will-"

The sorcerer's words disappeared as he registered that a man was strolling past him. Robin glanced over his shoulder and gave a cocky grin as he walked by, the young girl carried safely in one of his arms.

Kjelle could only stare slack-jawed as Lucina beamed.

Cassius's eye twitched. He looked back to Roland, who was chuckling quietly to himself as he tapped his shoulder with his sword. Cassius spun around to find that the men who had been holding the girl were sprawled in crimson-stained snow. He began chewing on his fingernails as he processed what had just happened. After a moment he bit down hard, paying no heed to the blood he drew. Never mind what trick that man had just pulled. These fools were still pathetically outnumbered. The white-haired one would pay for humiliating him like this, Roland would be disposed of, and he would take the black-haired girl as this competition's trophy.

Cassius wheeled around, glowering. "Waste!" he screamed, summoning dark magic around the tactician.

Robin shot a sharp glare over his shoulder an instant before the twin barrages converged upon him. Cassius looked on with uncomprehending horror as the tactician seemed to teleport some paces away from the attack's focal point, the dark magic coalescing fruitlessly over open snow.

He turned to face the sorcerer, the rescued girl clutching his coat tightly. "Sorry, Nelson, but I'm not your opponent here," Robin smiled.

Cassius seemed bewildered. "What? I'm not- ...Who is Nelson?!"

Robin laughed. "Oh right, that was the other guy. Sorry, you lot all tend to sort of bleed into each other." He snapped his fingers as he turned away and resumed walking back towards Lucina and Kjelle. "Speaking of bleeding!"

Cassius jumped as he realized Roland was now steadily approaching him. His mind roiled with panic; how had this laughably simple scenario gone so far south?

"C-Come now Roland, we can come to friendly terms, I'm sure!" he wheedled.

Roland cricked his neck. "Certainly. After all, I never speak ill of the dead."

Kjelle's face was locked in a state of confusion as Robin approached. "But how did you-? When did you-?"

He ignored her, setting the girl down. He smiled at the child. "You were very brave."

The girl swallowed and nodded furiously, struggling not to cry.

Robin grinned at Lucina as she walked up to him, Kjelle trailing numbly behind. "Not bad, huh?"

She smiled back. "Absolutely splendid. But let's not get too ahead of ourselves just yet."

Robin glanced over his shoulder at the outlaws. "Oh, right. You know, I'm surprised the leader hasn't-"

"Don't just stand there, you morons! Kill them!" Cassius shrieked.

Robin jerked his thumb. "That. Surprised he hadn't done that yet." He glanced at Kjelle. "If I heard right, you've already killed a man, right?"

"What of it?" Kjelle sneered.

"Alright. I'm going to take care of the majority of them. You handle the stragglers." He looked at the princess. "Lucina, if you fight, you'll have to kill. Ultimately it's your choice, but I'd like it if you'd take care of the girl and leave the messy work to those of us who already have dirty hands."

Lucina frowned. "I don't care much for the idea of sitting idly while my friends risk their lives."

"I know."

"...Very well. But only because I know you don't really need assistance here."

Robin ground his fist into his palm. "Great. You won't be kept waiting long."

Kjelle glanced suspiciously between the two, trying to gauge the undertone of that exchange. Before she could field any questions, though, Robin had already disappeared. Kjelle growled, then focused on a mercenary charging them. She dashed forward, pulling her lance off of her back and forcing the man to use his blade to defend himself. The mercenary was fleet-footed, requiring Kjelle to step to the side in an attempt to keep a sufficient distance for optimal range. Frustrated by the mercenary's constant incursions into her territory, Kjelle adopted a more Feroxian tactic and slugged the man in the face. He staggered backward, and Kjelle ran him through, gritting her teeth as she once more felt that repulsive resistance. She kicked the dying man off her lance, then brought it up to guard a second mercenary's strike. She heaved against him, struggling to repel his attack. She managed to force some breathing room, but the swordsman's assault was relentless, and Kjelle was having far too many close calls for comfort.

The mercenary stabbed at her once more. Kjelle yelled and instinctively replicated the move that had humbled her: She grabbed the man's wrist and dragged him forward, tripping him on her foot to send him sprawling. The mercenary hurried to get back on his feet, but was too slow to stop Kjelle from driving her lance through his chest. She panted heavily as she watched his death throes. She had no time to rest though; a third one was running at her from her left. She yanked out her lance, preparing to defend herself, when suddenly Robin materialized out of nowhere. He nonchalantly jammed his sword through the mercenary's heart, then withdrew it with a spurt of blood. The man collapsed as Robin flicked his blade clean, then resheathed it and dusted off his hands. "Well, that's that," he declared.

Kjelle didn't comprehend his meaning. She scanned the village square, finding only Cassius's dead men and the sorcerer very obviously losing to Roland. The mercenaries and dark mages had all been cut down, and the armor knights had holes from where lightning bolts had sheared through their breastplates.

"Did... No, you couldn't have..." Kjelle muttered.

"Nice work," Robin nodded. "That grab was a neat trick. Did the old guy teach you it?"

"Wha-... What the hell are you?!"

Robin grinned. "Just your run-of-the-mill human being."

Cassius teetered on his feet, breathing raggedly as he clutched his chest. Blood spattered on the ground. "You... You worthless peon!" he shrieked.

Roland glared at him mercilessly. "You shouldn't be so upset over something like this, Cassius. This is just the beginning. Once you reach the afterlife, you'll find that Oliver is a much less forgiving man than I am."

Cassius reared back. "Go to hell! Was-"

Roland sliced the sorcerer's chest open. Cassius gurgled, backpedaling for a moment before collapsing and lying still.

"Mommy!" the little girl cried as she ran into her mother's embrace.

"Oh thank you, thank you! Gods bless you, strangers!" the woman sobbed.

Lucina smiled, then looked toward Robin. "That was quite a showing. I'm starting to feel a bit invalidated, with how little difficulty such a situation gave you."

Robin chuckled. "Well, I did overdo it a tad. Pass gets pretty tiring if you use it too much in sequence."

"Oh? Showing off to impress me?" she teased.

Robin put his hands on his hips and feigned offense. "I'll have you know that I am naturally an impressive person."

"I'll say. Well done, kid," a voice agreed. Robin turned toward Roland. "Thanks for helping out. This could've gotten pretty nasty if you hadn't pitched in."

Robin put his hands behind his head. "Hey, you're pretty tough in your own right. I'm sure if you were younger you'd give me a hell of a fight."

"Hmph. Can't say the body works like it used to. Can't even use Pass right anymore." He shrugged. "Ah well. I'm retired anyway. Hey kid, you ever thought about throwing down at Arena Ferox?"

Robin and Lucina shared a knowing glance and a smile. "It's crossed my mind."

Roland scratched his chin. "Could probably make a name for yourself. Never got yours, by the way."

"Robin. And this is..." He glanced at Lucina. She stared back at him, the deliberate nature of his pause not lost on her.

"...Lucina. I'm Lucina."

Robin grinned.

"Name's Roland. And I take it you're already acquainted with Kjelle here."

Lucina nodded. "That's right."

"Haha! Great, now someone can take the brat off my hands!"

Kjelle's jaw dropped. "But I need you to train me!" she shouted in protest.

Roland jerked his thumb at Robin. "The kid can probably teach you more than I ever could."

Robin shrugged. "That was kind of the plan."

"Besides, as you are wont to ignore, I am retired."

She bit her lip. "But..."

Roland looked at her solemnly. "Kjelle, you said you have something important to do, didn't you? People are counting on you, right?"

"...Yes."

"Then go take care of business. And after all's said and done, well, I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing if you dropped by and paid Aude and me a visit."

Kjelle blinked, then bowed waist-deep. "Thank you, Roland. I won't forget you."

Roland smiled. "Nor I you. Take care Kjelle. Now get going. I'll relay your farewells to Aude. It's probably best if you leave without meeting her again; I'm positive she would stop at nothing to keep you around."

"You take care of that woman. She's better than you deserve," Kjelle laughed.

"Ha! That's something I tell myself every day!" He rustled her hair. "Don't you dare die on me, kid."

Kjelle smiled. "How could I? Aude would never let you hear the end of it."

The trio were past the village outskirts when Kjelle broke an uneasy silence.

"Hey, Femboy... Er, I mean, Robin... Why'd you get so angry when I badmouthed your coat?"

Robin glanced back at her. "Same reason Lucina would get upset if you insulted Falchion."

"Family heirloom?"

"More like "only-part-of-my-family-that's-worth-mentioning-in-a-positive-light" heirloom."

"...Well, I'm sorry for what I said about it. And all that other crap. So please, this time, will you accept my challenge?"

Robin now turned to face her. "Are you legitimately an idiot? Did you actually miss the part where I leveled like twenty guys back there?"

"Of course not."

Robin noted that Kjelle wasn't scowling. She wasn't angry, or irritated. If anything, she was deferential.

...Ah.

"...Fine. I accept. First contact?"

"Works for me."

The two took a distance of ten paces apart. Lucina, officiating, raised her hand in the air.

"Begin!" she declared.

Robin walked towards Kjelle. The black-haired woman swallowed dryly, then lunged forward with her lance as soon as Robin was within range. The tactician nudged the lance's shaft to divert the strike, and continued walking. Kjelle withdrew, then struck again. Once more, Robin subverted her attack. Kjelle gritted her teeth and attacked a third time. This time Robin knocked the lance downward, then stepped down on it hard, jarring it from Kjelle's grasp. He continuted his walk up to Kjelle, then lightly touched his index finger to her forehead.

"Match," Lucina announced.

"What? How is he going to kill me with a finger?" Kjelle questioned.

Robin slipped a Thoron tome out of the sleeve of his free hand.

"...Oh."

He withdrew. "Satisfied?"

"...Not at all. But that's good. A teacher who couldn't leave me craving more would be worthless." Kjelle bent down on one knee. "Robin, I ask that you take me as your apprentice."

Robin scratched his chin. "Hmm... Will you call me Master Robin?"

Kjelle gritted her teeth. "...Yes," she managed to force out.

"Hahahaha! Relax, I'm just messing with you. Friends don't need to bother with titles like that." He stuck his hand out. "Alright, from this day forth, I'll be training you alongside Lucina. Welcome to class, Kjelle."

Kjelle scanned him a moment, then took his hand.

"Thank you for having me, Teacher."