The world held its breath-

Well. For me.

I doubted it bothered any of them very much. Maybe Robin, from the way she wouldn't meet my eyes, or Chrom, who trapped my gaze with unspoken sympathy. If anything, that made it hurt more. But I was okay with that- hurt was something I knew, and knew how to deal with. It was as easy as putting on a mask for now, holding myself together until I could fall apart privately, with the help of a friend.

A bitter laugh choked itself in my throat. Sure, I could run to Tiki, but she was a Shepherd. Couldn't run to her forever, not when they're on the move.

I reached for a chair, pulling it over and sitting myself down. "Ah," I said listlessly, wondering when my voice had grown so soft, "I see."

This shouldn't hurt- I shook my head, heedless of what they might think. Of course it hurt, and of course it twisted my stomach into an aching mass of barbed rope. No, I wanted to say, You can't do this. I can help.

But I couldn't help. I'd just run away, as usual, and let someone better deal with it. Like Tiki, or Chrom, or Robin. All I'd done so far was be too little, too late. The least- gods, I can't choke up and cry here- the least I could do was, well, my best. So I reached down into my heart, heedless of the thorns, and came up with a cracked mask of... something. Someone I wasn't.

I looked up, drinking in the silence, wondering how many heartbeats had passed. Setting my shoulders square, I offered a lopsided smirk to hide how I bit my lip. "That's quite the bom-" bombshell. They wouldn't get that, would they? Covering it up with a cough into my elbow, I sighed loudly and placed my hands on the table. "Not exactly what I was hoping to hear, but, um," I hesitated, looking between Chrom, Robin, and Phila. "I can't say it surprises me. So let's talk about the other thing first- what was it?"

Hopefully that chuckle didn't sound as fake as it felt. I really had forgotten; people tend to forget things when their world comes crashing down in unexpected ways. I swept my eyes around the room, meeting everyone's eyes as I came around to look at Lucina. Her expression was a muddled mess of emotion, one that I didn't have the clarity of mind to figure out. Instead, as Phila cleared her throat, I nudged a chair out from the table, aiming it towards her with my foot.

"Item one," Phila began, furrowing her brow as she spoke, "Was to review what information you and Marth could provide us. We have discussed the knowledge already provided to us, and while I find the claimed origin to be dubious and untrustworthy-"

"Commander Phila," Frederick interjected firmly, one hand resting on the table as he drummed his fingers, "Please be seated."

I watched dully as Phila took a long, deep breath. Nodding, she slowly lowered herself down onto a chair.

Basilio crossed his arms, looking between me, Phila, and Frederick. Leaning over, he whispered something to Flavia- I couldn't quite catch it. Flavia smirked, though, rolling her eyes before cuffing Basilio in the shoulder.

Chrom met my eyes again, looking sad, sympathetic, and unyielding all at once. I knew he was just trying to be kind, but it just made it hurt more. "Andrew, Marth," he began kindly, propping his chin up with laced fingers, "Without either of you, I'm not sure we'd all be here for one reason or another. Andrew, you saved the lives of several pegasus knights. Marth, you saved me from being assassinated, and saved my sister from the Risen. On behalf of Ylisse," his lips twitched downwards for a second, blue eyes dimming, "Thank you. If there's anything else- anything- that might help us save lives, now is the time to tell us."

Basilio grunted, grinning faintly. "And don't go giving us a prophecy. Give it to us straight, no reading into it required."

"Seconded, but only because I don't think this buffoon can read to begin with! Ha!" Flavia pounded her chest loudly, shattering the tension in the room and ignoring the punch on the shoulder she received.

Frederick and Phila frowned in a roughly identical manner, crossing their arms over their chests. It seemed that the Exalted family had a preferred personality for their right hand men (or women, as the case was).

Lucina hesitated, hand resting gently on the back of the chair as she tried desperately to not make eye contact with anyone in the room. She'd had no trouble doing that for- ohhh. Right, she has the Brand in one eye. Maybe I could suggest a hairstyle change? "I-" she hesitated, glancing at me, "There is very little I can offer. The fate I foresaw has passed, even with my interference..." Lucina trailed off, her gaze unfocused.

I snorted bitterly. "We both tried, Marth. You tried your best, I did what I could-" I cut myself off. Not a great line of thought, even if I was trying to be motivating. "I don't know about Marth, but I'm an awful poet, so no prophecies from me. It's just a question of deciding what is actually worth telling you, I think."

Robin looked up finally, taking a long draw from her teacup. "Even the smallest detail could be critical," she said softly, eyes shimmering, "Like how someone's supposed to die, or how we kill a Deadlord. Or where a battle takes place, even."

There was a waver to Robin's voice that I didn't really know how to process.

What could I even say? I dug into my memory of the game, cursing once again as I found sizeable gaps and wishing I'd played it again before Three Houses like I'd promised myself. Technically, I mused, since I could never play Three Houses, I'd never actually broken my promise. Tapping my chin, I dug a bit deeper and came up mostly empty.

Maybe if I showed them enough knowledge, they'd keep me around? I dug deeper still, only to find rock bottom and my own reflection. It was a pipe dream to begin with. I could talk to Robin about her future counterpart, but I felt that topic could wait.

"Well," I drawled, drawing out the l, "I can think of a few, I guess. There's one thing I'll tell you after the war." I felt Phila's eyes boring into me, and I duly ignored it. Not out of spite, no; talking to her would probably make me cry. "Though by 'you', I mean Robin. It's just not important yet. As for the rest," I let out a long sigh, gesturing vaguely towards Lucina and the massive map spread across the table. "You defeat Gangrel at some point in the very near future, and then... I don't know."

Judging by everyone's expressions, I'd managed once again to disappoint.

Everyone was a strong word for it. It was really only Frederick, Phila, and Robin that seemed a bit upset- Basilio was thrilled, Flavia was picking her nails with a dagger, and Chrom was frankly unreadable.

What was I supposed to say? Hey, you get attacked by Valm in two years, but don't do anything with this information? "Sorry, I'm not very useful right now," I shrugged, looking to Lucina, "Marth, you're the expert on this stuff. Anything to add?"

Brow furrowed, Lucina placed one hand on the pommel of her Falchion. "The Deadlord Drych must be dealt with as swiftly as possible. He is... Not from here, nor should he be here yet. I-" she stopped abruptly, looking down at her boots with firey intensity.

"Drych," Phila mused drily, "Would that happen to be the abomination that interfered with our rescue attempt?"

"I think so. Contextually, it's the only thing that makes sense," Robin hummed, tapping a quill on her journal, "Unless there's another Deadlord."

Should I say something? I knew what Lucina wanted to say, and I figured I'd be the one to chicken out. Guess not. "There are more like Marth," I said softly.

"Miss Tiki named the Deadlord during a meeting neither of you were present for," Frederick replied, nodding curtly towards me, "I believe she was relaying information from Andrew."

Guess nobody heard me. I nodded back, placing my hands on the table and pushing myself to standing. Actor's voice, Andrew; speak loud enough for the back row to hear.

"There are more like Marth," I declared, my voice echoing through the room and yanking Flavia's gaze away from her knife, "Many more. I don't know how many, or when they'll come, ah, out of hiding. But Drych knows they exist, as does his master."

The moment it passed through my lips, my mind latched onto the thought with a vice grip. The future children- the children of the Shepherds- were in danger, weren't they? And it was the Shepherds' duty to protect them. Not my duty, and I don't think it ever was. I'd just get captured, spill every secret I had, and then die in a ditch somewhere, if Grima had his way.

It was then that I registered the deafening, deadly silence in the room. A silence I had commanded myself, and now they were waiting. Lucina watched me closely, her expression a crumbling mask of calm over a child who'd seen too much.

"His master?" Chrom broached, lips drawn into a tight line, "It's not that woman from before, then."

Frederick drummed his fingers on the table. "Regardless, we must assume the Deadlord is present whenever that woman is spotted, and plan accordingly. Robin?"

Looking up from her journal, Robin ran an ink-stained hand through her increasingly black-streaked hair. If not for the gravity of the situation, I might have found her spiteful pout adorable. I still did, but it got buried under my other emotions almost instantly. "T-there isn't a plan for him, Frederick. I'm sorry. We're still running with the idea that Tiki, Chrom, and Lon'qu are needed to stop the Deadlord, but I just don't know!" she spat out, her free hand slamming down onto her journal and clenching into a fist. The scratchy sound of tearing paper filled the room, and Robin deflated visibly. "I just don't know. I'm sorry."

Basilio sighed, leaning back in his seat and rubbing the stubble on his face. "Sounds like a plan enough to me, and I'm willing to trust your Tactician, Chrom. She's got a good head on her shoulders, maybe screwed a little tighter than anyone up past the wall."

"And we'll be there to support you, of course," Flavia added, leaning forward and planting her knife in the table with a thud. "Unless Marth here has anything to add about how to defeat Drych. She certainly looks raring to go."

Our attention turned towards Lucina, who looked decidedly uncomfortable as she ran her hand repeatedly over the pommel of her Falchion. Wavering for a moment, she turned to face Chrom and took a shuddering breath. All at once, her fears vanished behind the polished mask of the leader- features clear, lips set, and if not for her drooping shoulders I'd say she was doing fine. "Drych hunted us to the very last, Prince Chrom. If Andrew does not know the secret to defeating him, then nobody does. The only permanent solution would be to kill his master."

"And his master would be...?" Phila raised an eyebrow, wincing and bringing a hand to her side.

Lucina shook her head. "That is dangerous kn-"

The creaking of wood and two pairs of footsteps heralded two new entries into our merry little council (or really, the merry little council plus Andrew). Turning my head to the side, I managed to catch a glimpse of long green hair before Tiki sat herself down in the chair next to mine, crossing her legs and folding her hands over one knee. Not a moment later, Virion stepped into view, taking a seat between Phila and Tiki. With more poise and poshness than I suspected possible, he nodded at everyone in the room individually before resting his hands on the table. "Oh, my sincerest apologies, good friends. I was more than happy to carry out the mission the lovely Commander Phila assigned to me, but I fear I grew distracted by a fascinating conversation with Lady Tiki on the way back. Hopefully I did not overstep my bounds when I invited her to join us?"

"I would have invited myself. I always did find war councils entertaining- so much strategy I never could wrap my head around." Tiki snorted, cocking her head so one eye was fixed on me. Bringing one arm across her chest to support her other arm's elbow, she stroked her chin and winked. Softly, she said, "It has been some time, Andrew, since I last was able to speak with you. I trust you are well?"

I shrugged, which didn't fool Tiki for a second. "I've been better," I admitted, "Getting booted from the Shepherds is kinda ruining my mood, but I'm pretty sure-"

"-that it is for the best? Perhaps for your body, but not for your heart," she continued, one eyebrow raised as she turned to face the rest of the table, "I would enjoy if we caught up after the war, if we do not see each other before then. I rather like to keep in contact with my friends, and keep them informed," she stressed, looking quite pointedly at Frederick.

A bit of warmth blossomed in my heart, followed by a choked snort as Frederick's expression turned to bafflement. "I... I really appreciate that, Tiki, but I don't blame them for letting you sleep. As they say-"

Tiki rolled her eyes. "Don't wake the sleeping dragon, yes, yes. Allow me my pettiness, will you?" Pausing, she tilted her head and nodded at Chrom. "I am quite sorry for interrupting, Prince Chrom. Would it be possible to catch me up?"

"I wouldn't mind, Tiki. Oh, and Virion," Chrom added with a smile, "You did make sure they weren't pushing themselves too hard, right? I know where they're coming from, but now isn't the time for the Pegasus Knights to ride off behind enemy lines."

Phila cleared her throat, wincing as she coughed into her fist. "I told them as much yesterday, Prince Chrom. I apologise again for failing in my duties this morning."

Frederick shook his head. "We discussed this already. Sir Virion, Lady Tiki; our itinerary for today's meeting mostly discussed supply routes-"

Flavia grunted, muttering something about getting to the point. "We have enough stuff for all of you, and it gives us an excuse to break out the expensive whiskey. I still say you should let us do it."

Taking it in stride, Frederick continued, "-as well as scouting rotations, which led to the realization that no pegasus scouting patrols were sent out today. Shortly before Andrew and Marth arrived-"

"And I'm sending them a caravan from my city anyways," Basilio added smugly, "Special order. I told 'em to spare no expense, and get the best damn logistician they had, because I found your Quartermaster sleeping on a pile of inventory notes."

Absently, I wondered when Robin would realize she couldn't set her journal on fire without a fire tome. Tiki leaned over, murmuring, "So this is one of them, the woman next to you? I can smell Naga's magic all over her. Have you tried-"

"She wouldn't take stir fry when I offered," I replied just as quietly, tuning out Frederick's droning about logistics and Basilio's continually escalating interruptions, "I think she expected it to be poisoned."

"Did you try soup?" Tiki shot back, abruptly raising her voice again, "You should have asked me, Sir Frederick. I happen to have significant experience with refugees, though I fail to understand why they were discussed in this particular war council." Lowering her voice again, she smirked, "Admit it, she'd take the soup."

Lucina jerked her head towards us, frowning adorably. "Sir Frederick is speaking! And I did not take the soup, Andrew knocked on my door at the stroke of midnight and-"

She stopped mid-sentence, which seemed to be a theme for her day, and blushed profusely. "Oh, forgive me, Lady Tiki. I overstepped my bounds, please continue."

"It was good soup," I sighed, sitting up straight, "Stahl thought so, at least. Anyways! When Frederick stopped talking a moment ago," I winked at Tiki, who smirked back, "He missed the bit where they're kicking me out. And here I was hoping I'd get to rack up a few m-more life-" I paused, wiping my eyes and taking a short breath. "A few more life-altering injuries and well-timed fainting episodes before the end, you know?"

THUD.

Slamming her hand down on the table, Flavia threw the room into a dead silence. For a moment, she glared at us, lips twitching but her aura intimidating. "Ha!" Flavia barked, her head thrown back as she devolved into surprisingly soft giggles, "You are like children when the caretaker leaves. Now this is good fun... but we should get back to the subject. Marth, you were about to tell us who Drych's master was."

Basilio, uncharacteristically quiet, smirked. "I think she was about to say something like 'It is not my-"

"It is not my place to say," Lucina sighed, shaking her head. Pausing, she blinked and looked at Basilio. "Pardon, Khan Basilio?"

"Drych's master?" Tiki hummed, leaning back in her chair and stretching, "Oh, that'd be Grima."

Chrom laced his fingers together, lips set in a tight line. Phila aged a decade in the space of a heartbeat, timeworn lines creasing her features. Frederick's grimace turned into a frown, and the whole room was brought to a dead silence.

Robin's head hit the table with a resonant thud, and that quiet was broken by her long, pained groan. "The Fell Dragon," she said, voice muffled by the pages of her journal, "The ancient enemy, the dragon worshipped by the Grimleal. The dead dragon, whose ribcage we saw earlier."

"It just so happens that he is only mostly dead," Tiki said sadly, "And quite unfortunately, that means he is alive in some sense."

I was utterly torn between laughing and crying. This was fantastic- I'd just watched a round robin of banter with Robin in it, and it was better than I could have dreamed. But it was the Shepherds, who I was no longer a part of. I went with pained chuckle, because Tiki had quoted a favorite movie of mine.

"As opposed to all dead, of course. With all dead, well, with all dead there's only one thing to do," I continued, wiping the tears off my face and massaging my throat.

Phila, looking a little pale, leaned forwards in her seat. "And what is that, Andrew?"

I may want to cry a little more when I look at her, but Phila had come through where it counted (without even realizing it). Holding my voice as steady as it could manage, I rolled my eyes and flourished my hands out in a small well, obviously sort of shrug. "Go through his clothes and look for loose change, of course."

It earned me a few chuckles- Tiki, Basilio, Flavia, and Virion, at least. Everyone else was looking at me like I'd grown a second head. Frankly, I don't know if I could put up with two of me either, so I hoped I hadn't done any growing today.

Chrom looked at me dead-on, lips twitching. "That's one way to do it," he chuckled, nodding to Frederick, "But... Grima. The Dragon my family is charged with slaying. Lady Tiki, you claim he's returned?"

Taking the hint, Frederick started writing down his own notes (Robin still hadn't lifted up her head).

Tiki clasped her hands and tilted her head. "Not entirely, as I said," she began, "There is certainly something claiming to be the Fell Dragon that smells like he did when we last spoke a thousand years ago. Without a way to bring back his true, draconic form, he is barely strong enough to maintain a single Deadlord. I fought him shortly before I encountered the Shepherds, and in his current state I would dub him 'manageable'."

"So long as he has Drych, though," I muttered, "He's more than two handfuls of unmanageable."

"And what do we-" Phila broke down coughing, making the whole room wince with every shudder wracking her frame. "Frederick?" She forced out, wiping her mouth with a handkerchief.

It was enough to make me feel awful, honestly. Good but awful- she was alive because of me, but she was hurting because I just wasn't enough. Maybe she'd have to step out, and they'd wait on firing me? I shook my head; that was a nasty thing to wish.

"How do we deal with this?" Robin barked, jerking upright and brushing ink-stained hair out of her firey-red eyes, "There is a Deadlord that can appear anywhere at any time, and we can't kill it. His master is Grima. And they're both looking for a bunch of people with intel we can't afford to lose. Oh, and there's a war going on, which I also have to plan, and I'm obviously not qualified for because I can't even save my best friend's sister." Every word slammed down on her shoulders like a hammer blow, rippling through her thoughts and resonating with my own.

In the silence that followed, I looked to Lucina- she'd shrunk back into her seat, making herself as small as possible. Pity I didn't have much breakable heart left.

Chrom lay a hand across Robin's back, rubbing gently. "You're more than qualified, Robin," he said quietly, "It's okay. We're all going to do this together."

I think that's when I started crying, but it was silent, so I doubt anybody noticed. Except Tiki- she could probably smell it or something.

"Together," Virion echoed, letting out a long sigh. "Please, pardon my rudeness, friends. The lovely Commander Phila is looking quite out of sorts, and we have left Andrew in the gallows with a noose on his neck. Perhaps we could hurry this along?"

Chrom winced as Frederick sputtered. Still rubbing Robin's back gently, Chrom gave me the saddest smile I'd ever seen. "We really have, haven't we? I'm sorry, Andrew. This can't be easy on you- I promise we won't toss you out onto the streets."

"Aye, let's get a move on," Basilio thumped the table, "It's getting too much like those sappy plays Flavia says she doesn't watch."

"And you only know because you were also watching it," Flavia grumbled, crossing her arms. Pushing a loose bit of blonde hair out of her face, she waggled a finger at me. "You there. Andrew. You want it simple, or do you want someone to ramble at you about politics and paperwork for half an hour?"

Sniffling, I pulled together what little mask I had left, calling upon the Duke. "Apology accepted, Chrom. Let's get it over with," I declared waveringly, "And then you can get to important things, like helping Marth's friends and winning this war."

"This never happened," Lucina whispered, entirely to herself, "He never left them, not this early."

Great. That was encouraging. At least I wasn't homeless.

Phila pushed herself to her feet, her knuckles white against the armrests. "Andrew, last name unknown, by-" She broke into coughs again, only staying up because Frederick rushed over to support her. Virion came in close second, but backed away when Phila glared.

"Commander, I can continue. I insist you visit the healers as soon as possible," Frederick said curtly, "Your current condition needs regular treatment."

"No, Frederick. If I'm-" Phila waved him off, coughing, "I was the one who pushed this. I can cope for the few minutes it takes to finish what I start."

I could respect that, at least. My hand wandered under the table- I needed something to hold. I found Tiki's hand, which squeezed mine comfortingly. Gods, I owed this woman too much, and she knew it. I'd have to make her so much soup.

With newfound strength, Phila squared her shoulders and gestured to me. "Andrew. If you are able, please rise."

Releasing Tiki's hand- "I owe you, Tiki," I murmured- it was easier than expected to pull myself up and level my gaze with Phila.

"Oh, he's taller than I thought," Flavia grinned, raising an eyebrow, "You said he was tall, Chrom, but I didn't realize how tall."

"Thanks?" I shrugged, "Lay it on me, Ph- Commander Phila." Lay it on me before I break down, I'd rather not be the second emotional breakdown in a war council. Not nearly as fashionable as the first or as dramatic as the third.

"Andrew, of the Shepherds. By consensus of present commanding officers, we have found you unfit for service," Phila declared, each word tightening the barbed rope around my heart. It was like an anchor had been lashed to my thoughts- dragged deeper and deeper into a dull, aching darkness.

"Until such a time as your magecraft or martial prowess has reached acceptable standards," she continued, her words strangely distant, "Or your skills are required by the Shepherds..."

Please, gods, no. This has to be a nightmare. I thought I'd be able to stand up to this, be able to at least lose everything with dignity. I could feel the world dimming as it all came crashing down, sharp-edged glass trickling through frayed spiderwebs of hope and willpower.

"I hereby remove you from active duty."

And the world went dark-

No.

I refused. Every damn time I'd lost, I'd fainted and left other people to put the pieces back together. I kept running away, and at long last, just like Drych had said, they'd gotten tired of it.

The knots around my heart throbbed, drinking deeply of my blood. It hurt, but rather than ignoring it- rather than running away- I could at least feel it. Use it to keep me standing.

Deep breaths, Andrew. Breathe in, pause, breathe out. Breathe in, pause, breathe out, and wait until the shuddering stops.

When I opened my eyes, the Duke was in my hands- pointed down and sheathed, supporting my weight like a cane. My masks, all weak glue and flimsy paper thoughts, were more than enough. All eyes were on me, but somehow I knew they weren't the ones holding me accountable right now. I could faint, I could run away, and nobody would judge me for it.

"I understand," I said softly, my voice cracking. "I'll do better."

Virion leaned over, lips pursed in a frown. "Andrew? Are you alright?"

"I-I think he's fainted again," Robin suggested, "I wouldn't blame him. I think his only friends are Shepherds."

"I understand," I declared, loudly this time. My voice filled the room, filled it with a presence I couldn't hope to match with any real strength. But I could try. "I'll do better. I promise. But until then, the least I can do is help Commander Phila get to the healers."

I heard Phila's acceptance and the council's platitudes dully, like the cheerful banter of someone else's friends heard through a wall. Meaningless, enviable, and distracting.

Hooking The Duke back onto my belt, I trudged over to the one who'd taken everything away from me. I looked her straight in the eyes, nodded silently, and said, "How do you want to do this?"

Phila grimaced. "Just stand next to me. I'm not an invalid."

"Fair enough," I forced a chuckle, looking back over the table and those sitting around it. "Hey, Tiki. Maybe we can chat over dinner?"

"Of course," Tiki smiled, "I do enjoy a good meal with friends."

And that would have to be enough, I supposed.

[][][][][][][][]

I spent the next few hours in a strange fog, lost halfway between heart-wrenching sadness and grim acceptance. Once I'd helped Phila walk to the healers, exchanging a few words with Maribelle along the way, ("It was the right decision, but to make it so tactlessly offends my sensibilities!") , I found myself sinking into a fur-trimmed chair back in the common room. Not my common room anymore, but I doubted anybody would care.

Andrew, the cowardly actor? Removed from active duty? Perish the thought. It'd be ridiculous for me to cry over something so obvious, but feelings don't care much for reason. So I cried a lot, and it felt pretty good. Gave me some time to work out my feelings, and I did my best to not worry about what came next.

I was terrible at that, too, so I figured desk work for Ylisse wouldn't be too bad.

Sitting and thinking wasn't doing me any good, clearly. I found the tea set from the morning and started steeping myself a new batch: something herbal with a touch of citrus, though I couldn't place what herbs or citrus fruits were involved. It was pleasantly cathartic, and it was a way to get water back in my system after crying (and not drinking water) for the better part of the day.

Closing my eyes, I took a long, calming sip of tea. Yes, that was much better. I could feel it working its way through my system, teasing tension from my aching muscles and allowing me to sink further into the chair. A fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, dancing and frolicking in serpentine curls that drew me ever inward.

"I'm exhausted," I murmured to an open room, "Completely out of it."

It was the sort of tired where feeling is numbed, rather than muscles- like watching the world through a screen. Distantly, it reminded me of how it felt to play Fire Emblem: Awakening; how it felt to stay up late and watch numbers go up before marrying off soldiers that were all far better people than I (Except Henry and Tharja, probably).

I laughed at the thought, pausing to take another sip of tea.

My heart skipped several beats when two pegasus knights bolted through the common room, the clatter of metal lancing straight through the fog of my thoughts. What were they up to? Was something wrong?

Never mind that. Slumping back down into the chair, I smiled waveringly. "It doesn't involve me, not any more. So I can just sit here and- and-" I failed utterly to stifle a yawn, eyes drooping. It would be so easy to just... fall asleep.

And I did, I think.

[][][][][][][][]

When I next opened my eyes, it was to the subtle, calming sound of tea being poured into a cup.

"Ahh," a familiar voice sighed, content and ethereal, "A pleasant surprise. Bergamot, dried mint, and black tea leaves."

Sitting up in my chair, I kept my eyes trained on the fire, dancing teasingly over a pile of white stones. A loose pile of scrolls and books sat next to it, spread out over a plush red carpet and situated neatly by a mound of prismatic green pillows.

Drinking in the scent once again, I flicked myself on the nose. Bergamot. I always forgot about that one. "Bergamot," I paused, "Is that the orange-shaped lime or the lime-shaped orange? I could never get them straight."

The voice hummed. "An excellent question. I have no confidence or certainty on the truth, I fear; you must seek this answer yourself."

I'd given it about 50/50 on Naga or Tiki, but that sealed it. "So I'm back here again," I mused, "Orange-shaped lime sounds more right to me, but don't take my word for it. Why am I here, actually?"

"You were never here, nor will you leave here. To the dreamer, there is little difference," Naga replied helpfully, "Now that it is found, the path may be walked without guidance."

Either I had been way more out of it than I thought, or Naga was speaking nonsense again. Taking several minutes to digest her words, I took another sip of tea. "I see." I didn't see.

The silence stretched into eternity, as dreams sometimes do; bending in on itself as the fire faded and ignited itself for the first time, all in the span of a heartbeat.

"So there's got to be a reason I'm here," I concluded, watching Naga drink her fourth cup of tea. "It's not for you to comment on my life choices, or tell me I need to beg my way back into the Shepherds? I figured after that screw-up I wouldn't be worth your time."

"There are no words of comfort I can offer or words of penance I can extract, Andrew." Naga mused, turning languidly to face the fireplace. "No, you are here for your own reasons, and here with my blessing."

Would it make me feel better to be told I'd screwed up? Would it make me feel better to be told it's all okay? Or would either of those make me feel worse, maybe even afraid? I didn't know. "What do I do next, Naga? I'm not a Shepherd. I'm going to learn how to fight," I paused, running a hand along my left side, "Assuming my injuries let me. But that won't be enough. I need... something more."

Naga set down her teacup, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Her hair shimmered and swirled, curling against her dress and trailing into glimmering embers of blue-green flame. Placing her hands on her thighs, she offered me a faint smile. "I believe you know the answer, Andrew. I cannot offer power without exacting a great cost, not in this state, and you do not truly seek it."

The answer was 'lots of hard work and feeling somewhat miserable,' but I'd been hoping for something else. "Yeah, you're right," I admitted hesitantly, "There are worse places to think about this, I suppose. These chairs are pretty comfy."

Tilting her head, Naga frowned. "It appears you are about to wake up."

"Pardon?" I blinked, "What do you-"

[][][][][][][][]

"-mean?" I finished, blinking blearily. The carpet was gone, the fire was... well, a pile of charcoal, but more importantly not made of rocks, and the chair was not quite as comfortable. I could hear some shouting in the distance, probably some evening drills for the soldiers. Maybe I should see if Frederick's fitness program was as good and as terrifying as everyone said it was- that could help me train, right?

"Ah. So I was," I shrugged, taking a sip of my real bergamot tea, "Ah, damn, the tea's cold."

It was then that I realized the shouting was getting louder. Much louder.

I had the distinct feeling I'd missed something important. Probably had to do with the pegasus knights who'd... run past me. Right. Hadn't Virion sent out some pegasus knights as scouts? I should probably go find someone to ask about that.

My halfhearted attempt to get out of the chair ended when I heard armored footsteps echoing out from one of the entrances to the room. If I remembered right, that side connected to the stairs, which in turn led to the battlements (which had an amazing view of the sunrise). Excellent, they'd explain what was-

"You know the drill, Hirsch," a gruff voice grunted, "Go in quiet-like, pick off any stragglers you can find, and get rid of those archers."

Well technically that did count as an explanation. I'd best be on my way, before they popped into the room and decided that 'as good as dead' wasn't enough for me. Carefully and quietly, I stood up, picking up the Duke and hooking it back onto my belt.

It was time to run away.

Walking up towards the door, knowing full well they could burst out of it at any moment, I closed my eyes and shifted my stance. Square shoulders, posture loose, right side pointed towards the enemy.

The door rattled, muffled cursing drifting through it. I drew the Duke from its sheathe, testing its weight as the world faded away around me. This was my last chance to run away.

When my eyes opened again, it was too late for any of that.

Good.

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Author's Note:

Bergamot are lime-colored citrus fruits that are roughly the size and shape of an orange, but with a little tapering on one end. It's actually what gives Earl Grey that distinct smell and taste! I don't really suggest eating them raw.

Cheers,

Narwhal Lord