Lissa thought her day was awfully strange, but she didn't have enough time to ponder over it.
"Lady Lissa," another noblewoman walked over to her, with a package in her hand. "I baked this strawberry cake, which I learn you are fond of, so I thought I should share it with you."
Before she could respond, the noblewoman thrust the box into her hand, forcing her to take it. She mumbled a quick enjoy-it and… a greeting for Chrom? She ran away too quickly for Lissa to decipher the message properly. She didn't even get to thank her for the cake. "Er… thanks…?"
Earlier today, a noblewoman that she had never known before greeted her so warmly as if they were old friends. Then, another approached her and questioned her extensively about the Shepherds' latest expedition (the topic used to be taboo among young noblewomen).
Why… so suddenly?
"Lissa, darling!"
Lissa turned and sighed in relief for the familiar face of Maribelle—at least she knew her. Maribelle ran to her as if she was being chased by Risen. "Maribelle! Why?"
"Have you not heard, darling? Oh, you surely have not!"
"Heard what?"
"There are plans on Chrom's marriage!"
"WHAT?!" Lissa practically yelled, and Maribelle quickly covered the princess' mouth with her hand. Lissa mumbled her next sentence under the pressure of Maribelle's warm palm.
"Lower your voice, Lissa!" Maribelle warned.
Lissa nodded and Maribelle let her go. "Chrom? Marry?" Lissa asked incredulously. "To whom?"
Honestly speaking, Lissa already had a certain someone in mind when the words 'Chrom' and 'marriage' were brought together in a positive sense. She glanced at Maribelle and ten years of friendship allowed Lissa to know that Maribelle thought of the same thing as well.
Knowing the delicacy of the matter, Lissa led Maribelle back to her room in the castle—besides, she didn't want interruption from unknown noblewomen. The blonde princess locked the door behind her. "Now, spill the beans!"
"My father informed me," Maribelle began, her hands twiddling nervously with her folded parasol. "That the council decided it was the right time for Chrom to marry."
"Oookaay…"
"Apparently, the current Hierarch is envious of our Roxanne—particularly in the way Chrom trusts her."
"But she is trustworthy!"
"For the Hierarch, she is taking away his position," Maribelle noted. "Anyway, the bride would be selected from Ylissean noble breed."
"WHAT?!" Lissa shrieked.
It was then everything began to make sense to Lissa: why the noblewomen who previously gave her no more than courteous curtsies showered her with gifts and attention. Surely the same news had reached them as well.
"We have to stop this!" Lissa sprang up to her feet. "We have to tell Roxanne!"
"There is no use," Maribelle shook her head while putting a gentle hand over the princess' palm. "The Hierarch apparently consulted—I believe that was the word my father used—Roxanne over the candidates."
"You mean… she…"
"She is very much part of this scheme… in a way."
"But, but… I thought…"
Maribelle winced. "Darling, believe me, I know what you're about to tell me!" she gritted her teeth. "However, Roxanne has a very… exacting sense of duty."
"How about you?"
"Of course I do not wish to partake in such an indelicate operation!" Maribelle denied vehemently. "A noblewoman should stand loyal beside her friends! Ah—yes… I mean, after the expeditions and the war and… well, you know me."
"She is super nice," Lissa agreed.
"Anyway, do be careful… I suppose many of these ladies would try to use you to get on His Serene Grace's good graces."
Lissa sighed. It was invariably that way: most people approached her not because she was herself more than her perceived influence over her siblings. As if she always told them what happened to her, anyway.
"Frederick."
"Yes, milord?"
"Gather a search party," Chrom commanded promptly. "Find Roxanne."
Frederick, who was not aware of what had happened, furrowed his brows. "She left," Chrom explained curtly.
The furrow was promptly released. "Understood, milord. It shall be done."
"I want this to be a secret—preferably, I want the Shepherds to conduct the search," the prince continued in a low voice. "Don't let anybody else in the court knows about this."
Frederick bowed. "Yes, milord."
The general turned around and left promptly. Chrom knew he could trust Frederick. He had always been the kind who followed the instruction to the dot—sometimes could be a bit extreme, but Chrom hoped this time it would work in his favor.
With that settled, Chrom walked towards the meeting room. When he entered, as expected, everyone else was already there.
"This leaves us with Madame Roxanne," the Hierarch announced. "I wonder what has befallen our grandmaster that she dares to—"
"She has informed me of her personal leave," Chrom interjected. Earlier, he detected the caustic tone that the Hierarch employed when talking about Roxanne. Had it always been that way?
The Hierarch, slightly surprised by the reply, promptly cleared his throat. "I—I see," he stammered. "Then, shall we begin?"
The Exalt's advisor's place was on his or her right hand side. During Emmeryn's tenure, it had been filled by the same Hierarch who had guided her during the early years of her reign and betrayed her towards the end. It was where Roxanne was seated when Chrom led the meetings. The current Hierarch thought, by removing Roxanne, he could obtain the seat.
Oh, how wrong he could be?
That seat was remained empty throughout the meeting.
Naturally, Roxanne's first destination would be the grass plain where she had first met—or rather, being found by—Chrom. She took a break when she reached the spot where her life—the life that she could remember—had begun.
The young lady dismounted from the horse, but still holding on to its rein, and she looked around. There was nothing but tall grass and cloudy sky—it seemed that it would be raining soon.
These days, it often rained.
Roxanne put on her hood just as a breeze passed through, greeting her. Nothing else came after that. There was only her and Nature itself—no memory.
She should have known better.
Sighing heavily, Roxanne decided to plan her next move. The people in Southtown, the first time she visited them over a year ago, didn't seem to recognize her.
Maybe I should check the opposite town…
Mounting the calm horse again, Roxanne headed towards the town she had in mind. The map indicated the town as one of small peripheral towns in Ylisse region—Roxanne rarely heard anything about this town even during the war.
It didn't take her long to reach the town. As she passed through the town gate, she dismounted and led the horse by its rein. The town was not as lively as Ylisstol, but the marketplace was decently filled with people going about their businesses.
After taking a deep breath, Roxanne decided to approach the nearest man she spotted. Before she could do so, however, she heard a child cried out: "It's the Grandmaster!"
Before she could register what was going on, a crowd had formed around her. They greeted her cheerfully, extending their hands, which she politely shook one by one despite screaming internally for some personal space.
"Good day, Madame Roxanne!"
"Good day!"
"Are you here on the order of the Prince?"
Roxanne had never thought that her position as the Grandmaster would bring her such recognition. It just occurred to her that this 'mission' might be doomed to fail, if people now identified as easily as the Grandmaster.
It was then a soft voice interposed: "Visiting your mother's grave, Madame Roxanne?"
Roxanne immediately turned towards the voice, finding an old man with an old cane in his hand. He smiled warmly when their eyes met. "Welcome, Madame."
"My mother's… grave?"
After muttering a quick goodbye to the crowd, as well as a quick thank you to the old man, Roxanne headed towards the graveyard. Strangely, it seemed to her that her legs knew the way—perhaps she indeed came from this town. Hence, her sudden spike of popularity made more sense.
The graveyard was located across the hill that stood over the town. Still holding on to the horse, Roxanne began to walk through rows and columns of headstones. She was in a paradoxical position where she knew what she was looking for, yet she was clueless at the same time.
Why didn't I ask the old man just now…? Well… it sounded a bit weird…
Finally, her feet led her to a simple headstone made from white stone. The name carved on it read: Jachinta.
Roxanne immediately stopped on her track. She couldn't really explain why, but she felt something when she saw the name: a connection—a residue of a bygone bond, perhaps?
Without any warning whatsoever, the sky poured down merciless rain on the earth. Roxanne put on her hood, but she still stood transfixed at the simple headstone.
"Are you my mother…?" she asked, feeling rather foolish herself for doing it.
A vision—or rather, a composite of visions—suddenly appeared before her eyes. It featured a woman with rosy hair just like herself, but with a noticeably rounder face. It wasn't so clear because this woman was clearly taller than her vision. However, the moment this woman stretched out her arms, her face became nearer and clearer as well as became leveled to her eyes.
You are my treasure, my only treasure…
A pang of pain hit her head, hammering it as if it wanted to crush her into pieces. Roxanne gripped the rein tightly as she held her head with her free hand. The woman's figure gradually became clearer to her. Her long wavy hair, the way she deftly arranged it into a high ponytail, the way she turned to her and smiled at her.
The way she called her name…
Roxanne…
Losing the strength in her legs, Roxanne slowly slid down to the ground, her hand releasing the rein of Stahl's horse. Roxanne saw the headstone turned ninety degrees—from vertical to horizontal—before she heard a low thump near her ear and felt the cold ground beneath her.
Her vision blurred away as drops of rain battered her face. Roxanne struggled to keep her eyes open, but it soon proved to be futile.
Roxanne…
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