Rigged from the Start

Interlude VIII

The Hunted

Laurent

If I wasn't running for my life, at the moment, I would be cataloging the myriad of emotions and feelings coursing through my thought. Most of them were quite foreign to me. Describing them would be a challenge, and it would not do to simply scribble a couple of notes. They required full paragraphs, pages of analysis, and long pondering. After all, how else can someone understand their own mental state unless they engage in meaningful self-reflection?

Being chased by Risen was not a good moment for such exercises. Although, I did attempt to reflect on recent events as I raced behind my comrades away from Sir Donnel's destroyed home.

Everything had been, to put it in terms Brady, Noire, and Yarne would comprehend, a whirlwind ever since we emerged from the portal outside of Sir Donnel's village.

We arrived alone, on the outskirts of a quiet, comfortable hamlet. I saw a sheep for the first time in many years. An actual sheep, with a full coat, and plenty of bleats to share. I even attempted communication with it, but that experiment was rudely interrupted when the portal did not close immediately and instead allowed Risen to chase after us.

Of course, they pursued me and my comrades into the village, where there were no proper defenses. However, the many structures allowed us to mount a sturdy defense for some time while Yarne focused on evacuating as many of the residents as he could. There were even moments where I thought we could win. Risen grunts were not the most intelligent foes, and all they ever did was throw themselves at my spellfire.

That all changed when the Deadlord arrived, the one that called itself The Prophet. While claiming to know the future was a ludicrous notion that I would have scoffed at, he did predict that he would raze the village to the ground. Of course, that was a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy… do those count?

That may be a topic in need of study later.

"Laurent," Severa snapped from the front of our little group, jerking me from my thoughts and making me gulp at the sharpness in her gaze. "Head out of the clouds. I need you at the ready."

At the ready? What did Severa mean by that? The phrase had many connotations on a wide variety of topics. Did she want me ready to run faster? Such a proposition was likely, but I do not think my legs can carry me much faster. My brow and torso were already soaked with salty perspiration, and my lungs ached due to strain.

"Laurent, did you hear me?" Severa hissed.

I uttered a ragged gasp in reply as my throat struggled to form a coherent response. Amazing what functions the human body chooses to prioritize in times of need. Yet another-

"Oy! Four eyes!" Brady barked. "You gonna answer or-"

"Shhhh," Noire put a finger to her lips as she loped alongside Severa. "They're still after us."

"I agree with Noire, Brady," I remarked as I clutched my mother's tome close to my chest. "Shouldn't you be more focused on carrying Samwise rather than scolding me?"

"If all ya'll don't shut your traps we'll get caught," Donnel huffed as he moved from tree to tree, sword drawn. Lady Maribelle stuck by his side, her staff gripped tight in both hands as she readied to use it as an offensive weapon at any moment. That would be a most amusing sight. Staffs are highly effective weapons in the hands of a trained combatant. Does Lady Maribelle know any sort of martial art?

Severa uttered a growl, once again shaking me from my thoughts. "If all of you don't shut up, I'll-"

A loud howl pierced the night, causing us to grind to a halt and freeze. It was close. Far too close for comfort.

A frigid breeze blew in from the desert to our northeast, which was a puzzling development. Apparently, deserts can get cold. Another curious observation.

Three more howls joined the first, coming from all around us. Sir Donnel and Lady Maribelle both backed up a step, with Lady Maribelle almost bumping into me as she trembled backward. My thumb cracked the weathered spine of my mother's old tome open. The yellowed, crinkled pages crackled between my fingertips as the magic channeling through it made my skin tingle.

My gaze flicked from one dark shadow to the next, scanning the dead woods we raced through. I was tempted to ignite a small fireball to catch a glimpse at what might be lurking within the darkness, but I cast such a terrible idea aside. Any light would only attract the enemy, and we had neither the strength of arms or mind to handle a Deadlord and his monsters right now. I think Severa realized that as well because for once, she wasn't trying to fight the Risen head-on. She voluntarily retreated, which relieved and puzzled me. I could tell it also confused Brady and Noire, but neither said anything about it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a bush that still had leaves clinging to its branches quiver. The rustling drew the attention of Noire and Severa as well. Both spun to face the bush. Severa brandished her blade, both hands gripping it tightly as she gritted her teeth and readied for a Risen Hound to burst from the darkness. Noire stared down the shaft of a black arrow, her brow furrowed and the talisman around her neck glowing with faint, purple light.

Brady adjusted Sam's position on his shoulders, sliding him over to his left shoulder as he grasped his staff in his left. That would be a meager, almost pointless defense, but Brady was not someone to acknowledge odds when he fought. He fought using that strange variable known as instinct: something my mother and father both studied extensively.

I do wish I still had those notes.

Quick mental calculations rushed through my mind. Nothing jumped out and attacked us, yet. While that was semi-relieving, it still could be a trick. The Prophet did use strategies against us in the village, which was new for any Risen or Deadlord to be doing. Perhaps he held the hounds back and instructed them to circle us, hemming us in and tightening a noose until he arrived to finish us off. The Prophet seemed to enjoy theatrics like that, judging by what he did to Samwise when they faced off.

Speaking of Samwise, he was muttering in his sleep again, which made me tense. We had to remain silent, or else the enemy would have an easier time finding us in the darkness. Not that Risen struggled to see in the dark; Mother already proved years ago, in the future, that they had impeccable night-vision. But, we needed every advantage we could get, no matter how small.

Severa slipped to Brady's side, her attention on Samwise as he muttered. I expected her to clap a hand over his mouth in a harsh attempt to silence him.

My jaw fell open when she brushed the back of her hand against his cheek, concern written on her face. For a moment, it seemed like she completely forgot we were being pursued. This was a side of Severa I had never seen before. It was as if I stepped through the portal and stepped out to meet a completely different person. She was not annoyed by Samwise's incapacitated condition in the slightest.

I should conduct an interview on what caused such a sudden-

The bushes rustled again. A flame flickered to life in my free hand as magic coursed through my veins. My throat bobbed as I eyed the bushes that moved. Severa also spun to face them, her eyes narrowed, both hands grasping her sword and pointing the tip of the blade at the noise. Brady shifted Sam on his shoulder as he readied his staff to face any Risen chasing us.

I sucked in a sharp breath when the bushes stopped moving. Then, a pair of furry heads poked out from the leaves, causing me to exhale with relief.

"Yarne!" Severa hissed. "What do you think you're-"

"D-Dogs!" Yarne yelped, his beastly head flicking to and fro as his beast form stood rigid before us, every hair on his body on end. Beside him, the other Taguel uttered a weary sigh.

"They are merely dogs," Panne huffed.

"Correction," I commented, "risen hounds are much more than just dogs. They are, in fact-"

"Save it for later," Gaius hissed. "They're right on our asses. Whiskers, how far till we clear this area?"

Panne's head swiveled to our northwest, in the opposite direction of Donnel's village. I wasn't sure how long we had been running for, but it had been for most of the night. At best, we've made it roughly seven or eight miles away from where we had arrived. Although, we did not fare well at gaining distance from the enemy. The sound of howls pierced the night again, closer this time. Gaius was not incorrect. They were, to put it in terms he would understand: right on our asses.

"Not much further until the forest clears into plains," Panne informed. She sniffed the air, head snapping southeast. "They've found us!"

Noire's bow sang with a sharp twang, sending a black arrow soaring into the thickets behind us. A loud snarl shot through the air, causing a chill to run through my blood. I spun around, my hat almost falling from my head as I launched a fireball into the darkness. The flames from my spell illuminated the area as it soared, showing the silhouettes of half a dozen Risen hounds stalking us, trying to encircle us before we could run.

"Move, now!" Severa bellowed.

The hounds charged, teeth gnashing and howls reverberating through the darkness. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end when one got too close for comfort. A quick fire spell bashed it back far enough for me to spin on my heel and break into a sprint with the others.

My lungs burned, as did my quadriceps, hamstrings, and calves. Muscles I did not realize I had ached as I forced my body forward one stride after painful stride.

In this moment of considerable physical stress, I came to the horrendous epiphany that I am in terrible physical condition. Sir Frederick always requested that I join the others in his fitness program, yet I never got around to doing so. I was always too preoccupied assisting my mother with her research on the Fire Emblem and what properties it had that might help us defeat Grima.

Neglecting my body the way I did was starting to become a major hindrance. Or, as Severa would put it: being out of shape is biting me in the ass. Quite literally in this case, as I'm pretty sure I felt the air whoosh behind my rear thanks to the sharp snap of a hound's jaws.

That terrible sensation alone was more than enough to spur me forward. Another one of Noire's arrows rocketed through the air, whizzing inches from my hat's brim and slamming into a Risen Hound's eye. The hound uttered a painful whimper. That must've been the one dogging my heels because it sounded way too close for comfort.

Flames licked at my fingertips once more as I forced more magic to course through me. The pages in my spellbook became a blur as I ran. My entire body felt drained, but I felt there was no other course of action other than to create more separation somehow. I haven't used a spell as powerful as an Arcfire before, but I believe now was a perfect time to test my skill level with one.

So, I planted a foot into the ground, twisted it, and unleashed a hellish stream of fire from my open palm. Heat blasted across my face and torso. My teeth clenched tight as the night lit up in front of me. Three hounds danced in the flames I conjured, yelping and screaming before fading to black dust.

Before I could turn around and continue chasing after my companions, a black shape moved to my right, just outside of my field of vision. I turned in time to see an ax arcing towards my head. Just before the wicked edge of that weapon could slam into my skull, a sword intercepted it. Severa shoved the ax to the side, backhanded the attacking Risen with a powerful fist, then slashed her blade through its side, hip to hip.

"The save is appreciated, Sev-"

"Run, you damn bookworm!" Severa snapped, grasping me by the collar of my robes and shoving me forward. She then spun and parried another Risen's blade before making quick work of that grunt then joining me with the others.

That is how the chase continued. We ran, sprinting through the woods until we reached the forest edge, where the thickets and dense trees finally gave way to dry, rolling plains. I wasn't sure if that was a boon for us or not. While we were further away from The Prophet, hopefully, this also meant we would have nowhere to hide. Risen do not tire. They could pursue us without end for as long as they wanted to.

But us mere humans were already gasping and slowing. Even the swiftest of our company, Panne and Yarne, had slowed from an all-out sprint to a slow gallop, their breaths leaving their lungs in harsh snorts.

The only way we could slow down the Risen and their hounds was by turning and facing them. So, we took turns doing that. I would launch a spell back, feel exhausted by the strain on my magical reserves, then will myself to continue running. Noire would then fire an arrow into the mass of Risen breaking through the treeline after us. Donnel and Severa would both fall back next and cut down several before racing to catch up with the rest of us.

However, I did not delude myself into thinking this strategy would save us. Morgan, if she were still living, would have regarded it as inefficient, taxing, and foolish. That was why she was our tactician, and I was just a scientist and a mage. Eventually, we would tire out and the enemy would catch up. Then we would have to face them, and we would be exhausted from running. On top of that, the Risen numbers continued to swell behind us. To my horror, two groups of them were also racing to flank us and cut us off, led by hounds that glared at me with vile, ruby eyes.

There was no help here, in the southern plains. The closest settlement, Southtown, was still miles upon miles away. At the rate we were going, we'd reach the town in a few days, but it was impossible for even the most athletic of creatures to maintain this torrid pace. I got the feeling Severa, Gaius, and Donnel were reaching a similar conclusion. All three were fading to the rear of our group, readying for an all-out battle; a potential final stand for all of us.

At this point, standing and fighting seemed like the only sensible solution. So, I ground to a halt with them, turning with a spell ready to fire. My vision blurred as I conjured another fire spell. Not a good sign. I was running out of energy. It would not be long before I would be useless to the others. Yet another incapacitated soldier for one of my comrades to worry about.

Using Arcfire was idiotic. Mother would have scolded me for not thinking that through.

Severa gritted her teeth beside me. "Give them hell."

"I'll happily send them there," Gaius nodded, grip tightening on his shortsword.

Donnel said nothing. He narrowed his eyes and readied for battle. At that moment, he no longer looked like the wide-eyed young man I recently met. He had morphed into the battle-hardened warrior we all knew in the future. His village falling just became the first of many scars he would receive if we children from the future failed in our mission.

We cannot die here. I shook the blurriness from my vision. I will not die here.

A line of Risen charged at us. A dozen hounds bounded ahead of the grunts. To our left and right, two smaller groups flanked us. Panne, Yarne, Noire, and Brady covered our rear while Maribelle remained in the center with Samwise's unconscious body.

How long will we last? According to the mental calculations I made, the odds were not in our favor. Probably 1,325 to one that we come out of this alive. In short, we required a miracle to make it out of this situation. In my experience, both as a scientist and mage, miracles were in short supply. The only miracle I experienced lately involved a time travel ritual. I doubted anything that spectacular was coming to our aid.

The Risen were on top of us now. I could see their rotting flesh, smell their rancid breath, hear their mournful moans and blood-curdling shrieks. The hounds howled as they moved in for the kill. Noire fired two more arrows, her face contorted with manic rage as the talisman around her neck glowed brightly.

"Severa, odds are-"

"Don't you dare tell me the odds, Laurent," Severa hissed.

"Why not?"

Severa snorted. "Because then I'll be even more determined to beat them."

I blinked. "Well then, the odds are not in our favor."

Severa uttered a dry, sardonic laugh. Her red eyes flicked back to Samwise. "Y'know what, I'll accept that."

I braced for impact, what few spells I had left in me ready to destroy as many Risen as I could before I would fall. A few more steps. Just a few more. Let them come closer so I could obliterate as many as possible. That would give my friends the best chance to defeat them.

I raised my hand to fire another Arcfire when a trumpet sounded, belting through the sky and causing me to hesitate. A war cry came next. Down from the sky, three pegasus knights slammed into the Risen line approached us, led by a knight with red hair and wearing silver armor.

Hooves hammered into the ground behind us. A group of mounted cavaliers charged past us next, led by two riders: one a male wearing green armor, and the other a short-haired female in red armor. A man wearing a long, purple, and gold coat hopped off the back of one of their horses and rushed to our side.

"R-Robin!?" Donnel exclaimed, causing my eyes to widen and Brady to utter a stunned sound. Noire looked equally shocked. Severa, meanwhile, did not look stunned as much as she looked uncomfortable.

Gaius let out a loud whoop as the Pegasus Knights came back around and slammed against the Risen again, scattering the hounds and sending the grunts into a full retreat. The mounted soldiers pursued the enemy to the forest edge, but no further.

Robin glanced around once, studying all of us for a moment before exhaling and smiling to himself.

"Perfect strategy." He closed his spellbook with a loud clop. "I didn't even have to fire a single bolt of lightning." He turned his attention to Gaius, Severa, and Donnel. "Are you all alright?"

Donnel opened his mouth to say something, but Severa spoke first.

"Does it look like we're alright?" She gasped, a small snarl on her lips. Her gaze flicked past Robin to the three Pegasus knights landing nearby. One of them looked like Lady Cordelia Kindall. I sucked in a sharp breath.

Oh, this is going to go poorly. My heart jumped to my throat. Oh Naga, we're with the parents!

"Sev?" Noire squeaked, the glow on her talisman fading as the last Risen ran away.

Severa gave Noire a sharp glare, causing her to duck her head. Then, Severa returned her attention to Robin. She folded her arms and scowled. "Did you know what we were walking into?"

Robin shook his head, not picking up the venom in Severa's tone at all if his neutral expression was anything to go by.

"Not at all," he began. "In fact, we only received relevant intelligence about the Risen activity in the area a few days ago. It was a message from surviving villagers who made their way to Southtown. I believe a certain widow made sure the message was urgently sent to her son among the Shepherds."

"Ma!?" Donnel cried, tears brimming in his eyes. "Sh-she's alright!"

Robin tilted his head. "I just said that, didn't I?"

"You did," I nodded in agreement.

Robin blinked, glancing past the three lead Shepherds to me, Noire, Brady, and Yarne. "Oh, new people."

"Robin…" Lady Cordelia said as she trotted up to us, a tired, bemused expression on her face. The Shepherds' tactician turned to face her. "Is that any way to address new friends?"

Robin's brow furrowed. "What exactly would be the proper way, in this scenario?"

Severa snorted. "Offering food and shelter would be a start. And they aren't new friends, to me and Sam at least."

Robin whipped his gaze back to Severa. His red eyes studied us again. "Are these people part of Marth's group?"

"Marth?" Noire questioned. I was just as puzzled. Wasn't Marth the long-dead hero-king? The man who defeated Medeus and Gharnef so many millennia ago? Who would go around arrogantly parading themselves to be-

Oh dear… Lucina…

Robin glanced at Noire. Right as he opened his mouth to address her confusion, Cordelia spoke.

"Now might not be the time for this, Robin," She said. "Severa is right. The priority right now should be getting to safety." She twisted in her saddle and glanced at the cavaliers, who were trotting towards us, led by Sirs Sully and Stahl. "I'm sure we have some room on the horses for the weariest among you, as well as Samwise."

"You better," Severa grunted. She stomped past Cordelia towards one of the cavaliers. Once she mounted up, she looked at Robin again. "Where are we going?"

"Southtown is a few days ride from here. That is a much more defensible position if the Risen pursue, though I doubt they will," Robin replied. "Maribelle, Samwise's condition?"

Maribelle gave Robin an uncertain look. "Some dark magic hit him, Robin. I'm not certain what to do right now."

"All the more reason to make haste then," Robin nodded. "Cordelia, lead the way for us."

Cordelia nodded and took to the skies with her fellow knights. The rest of us found cavaliers to join and mounted a steed as well. When my feet left the ground, the true extent of my weariness became apparent.

I would have made a mental note to study the effects of such magical exertion later, but I was much too tired to care now. As soon as the horse beneath broke into a fast trot, I fell asleep against Sir Stahl's back.

Robin

Plans are fun because plans work. Or, at least in theory, they should work; especially my plans. The concoctions of my mind have never failed me before. Sure, have I had to make tweaks to strategies in the past? Of course. That is the nature of being a tactician. If one cannot think quickly, or adapt, then they are doomed for failure. But the bones of my plans, the intent, never seemed to go astray.

That changed today. For the first time, something felt seriously askew in regards to my strategy. I sent Donnel, Gaius, Maribelle, Panne, Samwise, and Severa into an unwinnable situation. Perhaps suicidal was the proper term? Regardless, it blew my mind that they survived, let alone escaped the trap they got caught in with nary a scratch. They even managed to pick up a few new friends, whom I had yet to speak to since I decided first and foremost to speak with the leaders of the mission.

Maribelle was less than forthcoming about what happened. Well, actually, she had been quite forthcoming. If being battered by parasol counts? She was most cross with me for not having accurate intelligence. Not an incorrect reaction. I should've treaded more carefully before committing forces to an unknown situation. A squadron of Pegasus Knights along with the team I sent would have rendered the entire trap moot. Right?

I shook my head as I tromped through our hastily made camp outside of Southtown. Most of the Pegasus Knights and Cavaliers that accompanied me and Cordelia were already enjoying dinner, or even laying their heads down for the night. I couldn't blame them. A hard day of riding left even me weary. Yet, I could not lay down. Maribelle did not offer anything constructive, so I had to speak with Severa and Samwise.

For a brief second, I paused beside an old tree, its branches fanning out wide to create a green roof over my head. Some apples sprouted from the tree, red and ripe, barely visible in the twilight. A smile twitched over my lips.

I recognized this tree.

I remembered something!

Sure, was this memory the first memory I have from waking up with amnesia? Yes. But, it was nice to be able to reminisce on something for once. I believe Vaike and Sully would call such a feeling: Nostalgia. Such an innocuous moment reminded me of quieter times, with less stress, less war, less bloodshed, and fear.

My smile fell away as my eyes settled on the small tent set off away from the camp. Severa had purposely set up her tent further away from everyone else, especially Cordelia (considering Cordelia was on the other side of our camp, which was a decent walk to this point). She had also insisted that Samwise be placed in her and her new companion, Brady's, care. While reluctant at first, Brady more than proved his mettle as a healer when he relieved a splitting headache I had. Who knew a good conk on the head would help with that?

With a deep breath, I approached the tent, expecting only Severa to be awake still. That made me brace myself. I still wasn't sure how to approach her. She was, for lack of a better phrase, an emotional cactus. Everything I said seemed to irk her. The only people who could approach her and get a response other than irritation seemed to be Samwise, Marth, and Morgan. Anna as well, to a certain extent, but the merchant had a way of charming other people that I lacked.

However, Naga forbid if I sent Cordelia up here for a debriefing. I saw the glares Severa sent her way. That level of animosity shocked me and left me to wonder what exactly Cordelia did to offend Severa so. Maybe the mercenary was still furious about being captured by the pegasus knight? No, no, too simple. Such anger would be fleeting given Severa and Samwise's position among the Shepherds now.

Hmm….

No matter. Debriefing first. Untangling webs can come later.

I drew in a deep breath and raised my hand to knock on one of the tent's posts, an action Cordelia told me was appreciated, and a courtesy I learned the hard way back in Plegia; when Sumia chucked a mirror at me for interrupting her and Chrom's intimate time together. For some reason, I had a feeling if I barged in on Severa and Samwise I'd have something far sharper thrown at me than a mirror. Yes, better knock.

Right as my knuckles were about to tap on the post, I heard something that made me freeze.

Singing. Soft and quiet, but it was there, and it wasn't Severa. Samwise must be awake, but I did not realize he could carry a tune. I also did not recognize the song. Something about a red-headed stranger from a place called Blue Rock, Montana? What an interesting little diddy! A part of me was tempted to listen in a little longer, but the debriefing had to come first.

So, I knocked, and the singing came to an abrupt stop. A series of displeased mutters spilled from the tent, causing my head to tilt. There were some colorful words said in there.

I jerked back when Severa poked her head out of the tent. When she saw me, her expression softened a little, and she stepped out. Her arms folded as she leaned her weight back on one hip.

"What?" She asked, ever blunt and to the point. Heh, that's a bit oxymoronic, isn't it?

"What song was that?" I asked.

Severa arched an eyebrow. "One from where Sam's home. Now, why are you here?"

What an evasive answer. Fascinating! Maybe if I dig- no, no, debrief Robin. Debriefing first, webs later.

"Oh, right, right." I drew in a breath and nodded. "Debriefing."

Severa's face fell to a scowl and she rolled her eyes. "Gawds, of course. Fine, come in."

She disappeared into her tent. I hesitated a moment, wondering if she was being sarcastic- that infamous tone of voice that I, for some reason, could never pin down. However, in the context of this interaction, sarcasm did not make sense. So, I entered the tent.

Spartan furnishings, but that was understandable given how hastily we set up camp. What caught my eye immediately was the two bedrolls pushed together, with Sam sitting on one, waiting for me. I made a mental note of that. Seems our two scout-mercenaries had become much closer than I anticipated.

"Evening, Robin," Samwise said, voice tired and shoulders hunched. He yawned, which puzzled me. Didn't he just spend the past twelve hours unconscious? Maybe involuntary unconsciousness wasn't as restful? That was a Miriel question I pocketed for later.

"Good evening," I nodded. Severa stood off to the side, arms still folded, and an annoyed scowl on her face. I grimaced, then continued. "I've come to debrief you on what happened in Trail."

"Trail?" Samwise questioned.

"The name of the village," Severa remarked, causing Sam's mouth to fall open in understanding. "Should be named, "off the beaten path", if you ask me."

I blinked. Was that a joke? Yes! It was.

I laughed twice, then stopped when both Sam and Severa gave me confused looks. My mouth snapped closed.

Oh sarcasm, you deceptive tone.

I cleared my throat and continued. "Yes, yes, the incident in Trail. I already went to Maribelle about it but-"

"Why the hell did you go to her?" Severa asked.

"Because she was leading the mission and-"

"Oh Naga above, he doesn't even remember putting us in charge," Severa pinched the bridge of her nose as she interrupted me again. "Gawds, sometimes I-"

"Sometimes you what, Severa?" I remarked, catching her completely flat-footed to the point where she stumbled over her words.

"I- um- you- shut up!"

I win.

"It's alright, Severa," Samwise chuckled, being far more genial than Severa. "God only knows we needed an adult for the mission, and Maribelle is one."

"So are we," Severa retorted. Samwise gave Severa a long look, causing her to purse her lips and sigh. "We're adults who don't know much."

"Yup. Anyways, ask away, Robin," Samwise finished.

"Yes, so to begin," I folded my hands in front of me, "I'm not interested in what happened en route. Clearly, that is not the crux of the events that occurred. I want to know what happened immediately upon entering Trail and leading up to myself and Cordelia coming to your aid."

Samwise's amicable look fell. He wasn't upset with me. No, I would have known if he was, I think? No, he was afraid and disturbed. His throat bobbed, his hands tensed, and he didn't look me in the eye, deciding to look through me instead. After a moment of silence, he drew in a deep breath through his nose and spoke.

"Are you familiar with Deadlords, Robin?"

I furrowed my brow, thought for a moment, then shook my head. "Can't say I am."

A haunted expression remained in Samwise's green eyes. He let out a shuddering breath and gulped. "They are Grima's lieutenants."

That made my heart lurch and my stomach flip. Grima had lieutenants that were not Grimleal? Unless Deadlord was a rank within the Grimleal. But, if that were the case, why had we not encountered them before? Why were they not present at the decisive battle at the Longfort? Wouldn't Grima want them there to ensure our defeat?

So many questions and the answers all led to even more questions. All of it a new web for me to untangle.

"Living or Risen?" I asked.

Sam's lack of an immediate reply told me the answer.

"Risen," I nodded. "Foul news indeed."

"They're capable of intelligent thought," Severa said. "Which means they're capable of commanding Risen on the battlefield."

"True underlings then." I pursed my lips. "Ones that cannot tire and I assume are enhanced physically like the Risen are?"

"Physically," Sam nodded, "and magically, apparently."

Now my blood ran cold. An undead being with enhanced magical abilities was a terrifying thought. That meant their magical stamina was theoretically infinite. They did not have living bodies that would tire out from the sheer strain using spells causes. That also meant they could possibly conjure any form of magic at will, so long as they knew the spell and the formula required to cast it.

The enemy has become much more deadly.

"We know of three," Samwise continued. "Two are from the future we ran from. I'm not sure if they're here."

"Hopefully not," Severa muttered, her eyes flicking to the floor as she rubbed her arm with her hand.

Samwise nodded in agreement before continuing. "The one we encountered in Trail was new. He called himself: The Prophet."

I quirked an eyebrow. An undead entity claiming to know the future? If I hadn't already met time travelers I would have called the idea ludicrous. Fascinating, but absurd. However, knowing literal time travelers meant that I had to consider the possibility of a living corpse possessing prophetic abilities. Most definitely an unsettling prospect.

"I assume the Prophet was a mage?"

Samwise nodded. I pursed my lips, my mind already racing to think of counter-strategies to combat such an entity. A mage-deadlord would be a terror on the battlefield, and they would require special attention to counter. Counter… Tharja and Henry!

"I'll have to inform Tharja and Henry of this. Perhaps they can come up with a counter of some sort."

Severa appeared hesitant, but Samwise gave me a weary nod. "Go for it."

"Now then," I continued, "what happened to you, specifically, upon entering the village?"

A haunted look returned to Samwise's face. He gathered himself for a moment, then spoke.

"It was waiting for us. We entered the village, meeting no resistance. There's a bridge that leads from the main road to a church. The Prophet emerged from there. I moved to confront it; buy the others time to rescue Brady, Noire, Yarne, and Laurent. When I did it… it…" His face drained of color. "It entered my mind, I think? I don't know how, but it took control of my entire reality. It tried to trick me into submitting by presenting me various scenarios that looked so vivid and real." A shudder ran through Samwise while Severa looked worried for him. He ran a hand over his face, a long breath leaving his lips. "I only managed to get out of the trance because Severa smacked me hard."

An involuntary laugh scoffed from my lips. "Amazing what a good hit to the head can do, right?"

"Well," A dry laugh left Samwise's lips. "It wasn't my head, thankfully. But it did the trick. Um… what else do you want to know?"

I shrugged. "I think I can pick up the rest later. You look tired. I should leave you to rest. That's what I've been told is the proper thing to do, at least." I moved to the tent door then paused. "By the way, your new friends-"

"Are not new," Severa remarked.

"Ah right, more time travelers," My mind cheered. "More strings in the web."

"Huh?" Both Severa and Sam said.

I smiled at them. "Nothing. Just thinking about a little side-project of mine. If you're hungry, there's some food in the main camp. Cordelia made it, so I'm sure it'll be good."

With that, I exited their tent. I would have made a hasty retreat back to my own tent when I overhead something that made me freeze.

"Gawds, he sounded like Morgan," Severa's muffled voice whispered.

"Did he?" Samwise chuckled quietly. "I guess he did. Bouncing from one topic to the next."

"I can see where she gets it from now, and I don't know whether I should be proud or irritated."

My mouth fell open as I lingered under the boughs of the apple tree I woke up beneath so long ago. Morgan had been, other than Samwise, the strangest thread in my hypothesis regarding the time travelers from a ruined future. What I just heard implied that Morgan was…

I shook my head as I absently walked back to my tent. When I reached my tent and stepped inside, I glanced at the thick volume of notes I had regarding tactics, as well as my own personal journal, which I kept to help me remember things. Inside of that journal were my notes about my hypothesis, or conspiracy theory, as Cordelia often called it with great amusement.

I opened my journal and looked at the small web I had created within. Marth's name was connected to Sumia and Chrom. That connection was obvious. Owain to Lissa, and if social conventions were anything to go by, then my dotted line to Lon'qu was accurate. Nowi had a squiggly line to Nah, which I'm sure the bubbly manakete would appreciate.

After grabbing a quill and dipping it in ink, I jotted down the other names. Laurent, Noire, Yarne, and Brady. Yarne's parentage seemed obvious. I linked him to Panne right away. Figuring out his father would be more difficult because so much of his physical traits were Taguel, not human. Laurent… he would be Miriel. That hat was a dead giveaway. Noire was a puzzle. She'd warrant further observations. Brady as well. I needed to keep an eye on those two.

My quill then drifted to Severa, Samwise, and Morgan. There, over those three names, it hovered. A tentative dashed line connected Severa to Cordelia. Another dashed light, lighter in tone, also connected Morgan to Cordelia, since she and Severa were apparently siblings. However, I wasn't sure about that due to how different Morgan was from Cordelia. Sure, Morgan had been sweet and energetic, immensely intelligent too, but she did not possess Cordelia's discipline or diligence.

It made more sense for Morgan to be connected to me. And… if Morgan is connected to me, and she and Severa are indeed blood siblings, then… then…

A fireball puffed from my fingertip, igniting the page and consuming the paper within seconds. I sent a quick gust of wind from my other hand, snuffing out the smoldering embers before it could burn my entire journal. Bits of charred paper puffed from the journal, smattering over my desk in black flakes.

At that moment, I realized something quite peculiar. I was breathing hard. My chest rose and fell in heavy heaves, and my hands were trembling on my desk. My throat bobbed as I swallowed hard, trying to calm my racing heart. This was a new emotion for me. Today seemed to be full of them. Was it fear? I wasn't sure. If this was fear, then it must be a sub-category.

… Was Morgan my child? Were she and Severa mine and Cordelia's children?

I ran a hand through my white hair, letting out a long exhale. That's when a knock sounded on my door.

"Enter," I muttered.

"Robin?"

I jumped in my seat, spun around, and saw Cordelia standing in the doorway, two bowls of steaming soup in hand. Her brow furrowed as she gave me a concerned look.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

"Hm? Oh, um, yeah, just… tired," I breathed, lying through my teeth and wondering if Cordelia could tell. Although, it wasn't a complete lie. I did feel tired. That's been my constant state of existence since the start of the Plegian War. Even though that war is technically over, there was still so much to do.

Cordelia gave me an uncertain look. I couldn't help but feel she saw right through my lie. But, she didn't question me. Instead, she took a seat in the other open chair I had in my tent, handed me my bowl of soup, then set hers in her lap.

"So, how's Samwise and Severa?" She asked.

I blinked, stirred my soup, then bobbed my head. "It's a good thing I knocked."

Cordelia furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

I paused mid-bite, recalling the two bedrolls pushed together in Severa's small tent. "Oh, they're definitely sleeping together now."

Poor Cordelia dropped her bowl of soup in shock. It's a good thing I wasn't feeling hungry because I was more than happy to share my portion. As we ate, I studied Cordelia's movements, her facial expressions, and her speech patterns. With each passing second, the pit in my gut yawned wider.

Severa and Morgan are hers… and they may be mine too.

Aversa

Light spilled in through the palace's vast windows, allowing the desert sun to both illuminate and warm the innards of the Doluna Royal Palace. The marble tiles beneath my feet sandblasted smooth first with magic, then with time, clicked beneath my feet as I strolled into the main hall, expecting to find my new Master, my lord, upon his throne.

That's where he usually was during the day. Playing king, never once hinting to the foolish peasantry or nobility that he was actually their god given flesh. A bit humble, which was more than a little surprising to me, until I realized that Grima was putting on airs. Behind closed doors, when no one but me saw him, he was as I imagined him: cold, ruthless, unforgiving, and unforgettable. Wrath and power wrapped in a fragile human shell. I was amazed his body could contain the breadth of his essence.

When I stepped into the main hall, no one was there. No peasants groveling before the onyx throne, making their pleas known. No guards standing vigil by the doors or the dais. More importantly, no Grima.

Puzzled, a frown creased my lips. Where would he have run off to at this hour?

If he is his father's son, then I know where he'll be.

A scowl twitched over my face, and I made my way outdoors to the private gardens. In these gardens rested one of the few patches of greenery in all of Plegia's vast wastes. A lovely pond, crystal clear and rippling from a natural spring, sat in the center. Reeds and grasses sprouted around the edges of the pond, all of them flowering, all of them carefully manicured by the servants. A few sparse trees dotted the area, along with more than a few cacti, but I also noticed something peculiar.

A couple of small trees, ones that shouldn't be able to survive the Sun, sat in terracotta pots. Grima sat beside those pots, sheers in hand, as he snipped the little trees one leaf at a time. Seeing him do something so mundane caused my steps to grind to a complete halt.

I thought I caught him by surprise. But, he is god, and god is never taken off guard. Without even turning his hooded head, he spoke.

"Bonsai trees," he said, voice devoid of the raw strength I knew he could exude. "They're quite popular across the sea in Chon'sin. An old friend introduced them to me." He snipped a leaf, eyed the branch carefully, then nodded. "Good morning, Aversa."

I exhaled. Yes, he knew it was me. Who else would it be, after all? I seemed to be the only person in the kingdom besides Nefertiti Raad who did not fear approaching him. Although, I did wonder to what extend Lady Raad knew who our new King was. I would not put it past the old crone to be completely aware of his real identity, but a part of me reveled in the belief that I, and I alone, knew the truth. A part of me enjoyed knowing that I had finally pulled the wool over the eyes of that old bat.

Would she be proud of me? I wonder…

"Good morning, my lord," I replied, bowing my head even though Grima could not see me.

Grima sniffed, brought his sheers to one of the small trees' branches again, and snipped. He did not reply. He simply waited like a snake in the sand, biding his time. Even at the mundane, he was ever the tactician.

"I have received word from Ylisstol." His hooded head tilted a little as I spoke. "Exalt Emmeryn is delighted that we have agreed to terms."

"Of course she would be," Grima remarked, his back still to me. Another snip and another leaf fell. "For all her pious ideals, she fails to realize her sensibilities are what caused the war, and they will fail her again when the next one comes."

I furrowed my brow. What did he mean by that?

A soft chuckle emanated from the hooded figure in front of me, making the hairs on my arm stand on end. I sucked in a breath. Did he know what I was thinking?"

"Your silence speaks volumes, Aversa. Do you not study the enemy, or am I the only one?"

"I-I have studied Ylissean warfare, their tactics, their armies- what little they possess."

"That was not my question," He growled in reply. His head turned just enough for me to catch a glimpse of one of his red eyes narrowed on me. "Have you studied the enemy?"

I swallowed hard. "I'm not sure what you mean?"

Grima stared at me hard, making me feel like nothing more than a small child he was disappointed in. He scoffed and returned his attention to his bonsai trees.

"It's no wonder my avatar ran circles around you during the war." Fury burst to life within me when he spoke. "You cannot think beyond the most basic of information."

"I can think perfectly fine-"

"No, you cannot. If you could, you would have understood what I was asking you." Grima's voice was cold like Feroxi ice, silencing me. "Do I need to explain it to you, or can you figure it out for yourself?"

My lips thinned. What did he mean? What did I have to figure out? Have I studied the enemy? That was a ridiculous question. I was the chief tactician of Gangrel's war effort. Of course, I studied the enemy. I studied them extensively. Why, if it was anyone else, I would have annihilated them with my magic for daring to question my intellect.

"Aversa," Grima exhaled, cutting off my enraged thoughts. "How do you care for bonsai trees?"

I blinked. Why the change in topic? "I don't know what you mean?"

"You must know the tree, Aversa," Grima continued. "You cannot just know the weather patterns, or the temperature outside, or how acidic the soil may be. No, you need to get to know the tree. You need to know what it likes, what it does not like, how it will react to fair or harsh treatment. Will it wilt in the sun, or, if tended to, will it thrive?" He snipped another leaf as I listened in silence. "Bonsai trees are quite particular, and for the most part, almost entirely useless. There's a reason the Chon'sin enjoy cultivating them, though. If taken care of properly, they can be quite beautiful."

Grima calling something of this world beautiful? Who is this god, and where is mine? Where is my lord of destruction ready to end this world in order to bring about the next? What is this nonsense about bonsai trees, and what did it have to do with knowing the enemy?

A heavy, annoyed sigh slipped from Grima's lips. "Humans… try to cultivate one and it will stubbornly refuse to understand what you're doing. Aversa, if I must be so blunt, knowing your enemy involves more than surface-level tactics and armies. It involves knowing how they think."

"Isn't that their tactics?" I questioned, before quickly slapping a hand over my mouth. Fear shot through me like a bolt of lightning. I dared question Grima! I am a fool!

Grima did not lash out. Instead, he chuckled, like a parent hearing a toddler's naive question about the world.

"No, no, get past the surface, Aversa. What informs the enemy's tactics? What makes them strategize the way they do? Hm?" He waited, but I couldn't find an answer. Another heavy breath left his lips. "I miss my Morgan," he mumbled before continuing. "Aversa, how the enemy views their friends will determine their strategy in battle. How the enemy perceives the value of life will inform how much of it they are willing to lose... or take."

Another individual leaf fell, settling on top of a small pile of others the same shape and size.

"What they love, what they cherish, what they hate, what they fear, what they ate for breakfast, and if it upset their stomach at all; this all determines your enemy's thoughts. Humans are quite easy to predict like that. Figure out the most important thing to them, and you have them pegged." Grima glanced back at me again. "Do you understand now?"

I pursed my lips. "You must know even the most mundane thing about the enemy in order to effectively battle them."

"Not just battle them." Grima raised a finger. "Defeat them. Important distinction there. Always aim for the outcome to be in your favor. Never leave anything to chance, or to unknown variables. Unknown variables can kill a bonsai tree."

I gulped. Why did my mouth feel so dry? Why did I feel so angry at my lord? Did I despise correction so much? Perhaps. Beratement never sat well with me, even if it was a constant thing in the Grimleal.

Grima drew in a breath, snipped one more leaf, then nodded and set his sheers to the side. "There, a perfect little tree. In a week, I'll have to prune it again. But for now, it can enjoy the sun." He rose to his feet, stretched his thin arms out, then turned to look at me. "Anything else, Aversa?"

I blinked. Anything else? "Oh, yes." I fumbled with the reports I had in my arms, one of them detailing some disturbing news in our kingdom's southeast. "Gra is still in turmoil. They are demanding independence from the crown."

Grima's lips turned to a deep frown. "Demanding?"

I nodded. "Apparently, those little peasants and slaves in our southeast have already found a name for themselves: the New Alteans."

"Ha!" Grima uttered one, lonely laugh. "If they think they can be the Hero King then they are sorely mistaken." He paced a couple of steps, thinking hard. "Do we know who leads them?"

I shook my head. "Nothing more than baseless rumors."

"Rumors are never baseless, Aversa. You've been in the royal court for how many years now? I thought you would know that."

I grimaced. "Rumor has it, General Mustafa has returned and is rallying the rebels in the southern savannah."

A dark look came over Grima's features. His lips twitched into a nigh imperceptible snarl at the mention of the traitorous General. His hands folded behind his back as he nodded, drinking in the information and mulling it over for a moment.

"A formidable opponent," He mumbled. "I… did not see that coming."

I arched an eyebrow. "My lord?"

"Wildcard," he exhaled, turning away to look at the pond. "What meddling have you been doing while I wasn't looking?"

What was he talking about? Who was Wildcard? It was as if Grima wasn't talking to me anymore, but rather to himself. Did he always think out loud like this?

Then, a quiet snicker slipped from his lips. Did he sound thrilled? Why? Subjects in his kingdom were in open rebellion, and he laughed?

"Oh what fun," he whispered before spinning around. "Do we still have a captured Pegasus Knight?"

I blinked. "We do. Why?"

An evil smile curled onto his lips. Vile glee entered his scarlet eyes. One that made my skin crawl. A shiver ran up my spine. There was the god of destruction I worshipped.

"Her name?" He asked.

I tilted my head, confused. "Bridgett, I believe? We captured her when our armies assailed Fort Pike in northern Ylisse during the war."

"Even better," Grima chuckled. "One my dear knew well."

My dear?

"Bring her to me. I may have use of her." Grima bobbed his head. "Well… I have use of her corpse, but I prefer to do the fun part myself in this case."

I drew back. Why would he want to kill then use a dead Pegasus Knight? A gasp shot from my lips as the wealth of knowledge I had on my lord burst to the surface.

"Do you have the strength?" I asked. "The others have not been to your complete liking, after all."

"One may have escaped my will, but the Prarok will grow with me, rest assured," Grima replied. "And I will find the one that I let slip away. When I do, my deadlords will be unstoppable. Besides, the one I'm about to raise is much closer to me than most. She will answer my call." He drew in a deep breath, a broad grin still on his lips. "Go now. I think Bridgett will want to enjoy her last moments alive. They may as well be in my presence."

With that casual dismissal, I bowed my head, turned, and left my lord in the garden. As I walked away, a shudder ran through me.

Some sympathy welled within my heart for the poor Pegasus Knight Bridgett languishing in the Grimleal dungeons. I have witnessed the birth of one Deadlord before. Just recalling it sent my heart racing. My breathing turned shallow. A thin layer of sweat built upon my brow as my hands trembled. I had to stop walking in to take a breath.

Prarok's birth involved so much blood and screaming, and that was from a willing subject in a Grimleal mage. I could not begin to imagine the horrors that awaited the Pegasus Knight once Grima sank his claws into her.

Quell your sympathy! I gritted my teeth, drew in a sharp breath, and marched back to the Temple.

I could not have sympathy for a Ylissean dog. Besides, the process may be horrific, but Bridgett will emerge from it more powerful than ever. She will be a demi-god amongst us. No doubt, Grima will use her to extinguish the rebellion growing in the south.

What an honor.

And chapter! I love doing these interludes. Looking at this story from different perspectives is always so much fun! We've got some more future kids finally arriving to the present timeline, and they seem more than a little puzzled by Severa's behaviors (a lot can change in a year or so, huh?). Then there's Robin. Looks like he's a little freaked out by the prospect of being a father. Finally, Grima is doing his thing. Being bone chillingly evil (he is a very fun villain to write). In case you haven't guessed yet, we're heading back to Plegia next what with unrest in Gra continuing. Should be fun! Anyways, let me know what you all think of this chapter! As always, I hope you all enjoyed it! Have a nice day!

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